#First Aid at Work (Level 3) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 1 year ago

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❝ 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌) ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS YOU TAKE CARE OF NANAMI ALL YOUR LIFE -- AND HE DOES THE SAME FOR YOU ? ❞

✧ pairing: nanami kento x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, hurt / comfort w/ a happy ending, domesticity, jjk canon compliant au (because nanami is alive) reader is the same age as nanami, set during through the events of star plasma vessel to end of jjk, nanami getting hurt and reader taking care of him, reader gets a cold and nanami takes care of her, jealous! nanami, kitchen counter sex, soft dom! nanami, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing

✧ wc: 7,657

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 3 has been sold to two anons!

“Show me,” Nanami furrows his brow in reply, jaw set as he glares, but he knew no amount of staring would get you to let this go. You stood in the doorway of his dorm room — your room was clear across on the other side where the girls resided, so he wondered for a split second how you knew he returned when it had barely been an hour, but answered his own question without having to utter a word (Haibara).

“It’s not bad. It’ll heal by itself—“ and you’re shaking your head, and his lips purse, “it really isn’t worth speaking to Ieiri about — it’s not a wound, just a bruise—“

But still you stood, as immovable as ever — and he finally relented, unbuttoning his jacket, as he shrugged it off, unable to hide his wince as he revealed the large bruise that colored his skin in red, his skin peeling and angry, and surely would turn into a lovely mish-mash of purple and blue.

You brush past him into the dorm room, as you brought a first aid kit in, setting it on the bed, turning your head before tilting it as if to say, “well?”

He repents, as he always did with you — he knew a battle of wills with you was as unwinnable as a battle of jujutsu with Gojo — not to mention needlessly frustrating. He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed to the floor, as you grabbed a washcloth from the kit, heading for his bathroom. He hears the sounds of water running, and the squeak of the faucet closing.

You return as you lift his arm slightly, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to his shoulder.

Your touch is gentle — Nanami was always surprised at how gentle you always were. With the line of work you all did, it was easy to be rough, to find smooth edges corroded and jagged, but no, you remained as smooth and soft as you always were.

He flinches when you bring the wet washcloth to raw skin, and you’re careful even as you seemingly pick out pieces of gravel and dirt stuck in his flesh. And you frown at the sight of it, doing your best to clean every bit.

“So what happened?” you ask, and he gives a terse chuckle.

“Didn’t Haibara tell you?” And you shrug, “I know he told you we’re back,” and your lips curl ever so slightly as your eyes meet him, a small amount of mirth returning.

“Maybe I’m just a stalker,” and he can’t bite back the small smile on his lips, “Haibara told me you didn’t go to Ieiri, and that you got hurt protecting him on your mission,”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head, “Ieiri was busy dealing with Haibara, he got it worse than I did—“

“Even if your injury is less serious, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look after yourself,” and he sighs, as his eyes slide to you, “you need to learn to care about yourself, Nanami,”

And he knew you were right on some level — he didn’t have a delusion of invincibility and he also didn’t have a strong enough desire to strive to be stronger, but — his fingers grasp at his sheets —that didn’t mean he wanted to see his friends die. “You don’t have to do this,” he says again, and you don’t meet his gaze when he looks over at you, your brow set in concentration, “it’s not important—“

“Nanami, you don’t ever seem to value yourself properly,” you finish cleaning his arm, before grabbing bandages and tape from the kit, “you are important — even if you don’t think you are,”

And he opens and shuts his mouth — before a smile pulls at his lips — you were far too kind, especially for a jujutsu sorcerer.

And then you add, “and if you don’t get your wounds tended to, I’m going to tell Gojo you want to take a sweets tour of Tokyo,”

…maybe he spoke too soon.

~~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself so badly during training?” You offer Nanami a makeshift ice pack, a small cloth wrapped up with ice from his freezer, and his lips pursed in disgust as his reply, “ah, Gojo,” the mattress shifted under his weight as he sat,

“That arrogant idiot,” Nanami grumbled, as he pressed the ice pack to the back of his head, “his excuse was that he didn’t know his own strength — he’s lucky that he had infinity or I would have—“

You chuckle, “You know he’s just messing with you, it’s just because you react,” and he scowls at his floor of his room, as if his carpet was the six eyes sorcerer itself, “he’s not so bad—“

He raises an eyebrow, his mouth parted in disbelief, “Are you defending him right now?” And you chuckle, as you lean back against the side of his bed, your head leaning back against the soft comforter that you had bought him and guaranteed would help him sleep better (it only guaranteed that you would be asleep underneath it half the time they spent in his dorm relaxing).

You wave him off, “Lower your blood pressure. I’m not defending him, I’m just saying, it can’t be easy being the strongest — all those eyes on you, the way people treat you, the—”

“The weight of your overinflated ego that you have to carry around—” and you roll your eyes, and the action bites at his last nerve, because he thought if anyone would have his back, it would be you — the next words spit like venom out of his mouth, “I thought you were better than those girls that moon over Gojo,”

And he regrets the words as they leave his lips, as you stare at him wordlessly — not with anger, but frustration — which hurts all the more, “If I was so in love with Gojo, then why am I with you instead of him?” He doesn’t have a reply as you rise to your feet and make your way out the door, the click of the door far too deafening, leaving him with a throbbing in his head — but not just from being hurt.

His fingers curled tighter around the ice pack. Because why—why did the thought of you liking Gojo make his chest ache—the idea of your care and time spent on someone else, not even Gojo, but anyone else, made his stomach churn at the idea.

He had told himself when he decided to become a sorcerer, he would do anything to avoid relationships — even friendships if he could do so. When you work a job like this, it can only end in disaster. but— his eyes slide to the closed door you had just left through.

Why did this feel so much worse?”

~~~

“You can’t stay here all night,” your voice cuts through the silence of the morgue — the only life left in the room. Because he too had died along with Haibara.

Or rather he should have.

He kept the towel over his eyes, unmoving from his chair, head resting back against the cold metal — as if it would protect him — from seeing Haibara sliced half over and over, last words dying on his lips said in pure chaos but somehow Nanami could still hear them ring in his ears— just as the sick crumple of his torso hitting the ground after being ripped from his body. The words leaving his lips as the last vestiges of life left his body, fingers twitching as his lips moved—

You got it from here.

The hopeful optimism from a person seconds before death did little to comfort him. Not when that person should have been the one who lived. He had the one thing that was so rare in his shit world of jujutsu — kindness—

The very thing that left half his body lying against a metal slab.

“I can’t leave until…” he trails off, he didn’t wish to leave until his body was inspected and then taken to be…disposed of. He knew it was for the best that his body is turned to ash, but it made it no easier to consider the person that he knew to be his best friend would be nothing but ash in a few hours time, “I won’t leave him alone,”

You nod, and the silence makes him wonder if you’re leaving, but instead he hears footsteps and the slight scraping of a metal chair against the floor. And he feels the slight brush of you beside him as you sit.

And you don’t say a thing. The only thing is that your fingers brush his tentatively and when he doesn’t pull away you intertwine them. And that’s enough—for now.

Until they take his body away.

A sorcerer glances at the two of you, “Do either of you have contact with next of kin? We need to notify—“

“I’ll handle it,” Nanami says, the towel pulled away from his gaze, hoping his dark bags and red tinged eyes aren’t noticeable to you, but he sees the purse of your lips and knows they are.

The sorcerer shifts, “Have you considered asking his family for—“

“That’s not an option,” Nanami cuts him off with a stare, and the sorcerer parts his mouth before shutting it again with a nod, “okay, please allow us to take his body,”

And they do, pulling the sheet down ever so slightly that Nanami sees a flash of his face — no hint of that smile he always unfailingly had on his lips — it too was gone, just like he was. And they carefully wheel his body away — assumedly to be burned. And the door swings shut behind them — leaving only him and you. Silence hangs over the room, the finality of the moment leaves nothing in its wake but regret.

And regret only felt hollow — just as his heart did.

You choose to break the silence, a shaky sigh leaving your throat, as you quickly scrub tears away from your face, clearing your throat, “Come on, let’s go—”

“You can go ahead, I’m going to stay here for a while,” and your eyes try to find his own, but he still stares at the spot where Haibara’s body had laid for hours. The essence of cursed energy was almost too easy to understand compared to the concept of death — a person can be living, breathing, and talking one day to be nothing but a husk the next. And now, he knew it would be a lifetime of feeling as if something is missing — as if something was wrong — and moments where it felt fine would be overcome by only guilt and anger.

What was the point of all of this? His fingers formed into fists, nails digging into his palms — were they nothing but pawns to be used in an unending game that forced sorcerers to not only to put their lives on the line, but their colleagues as well. A twisted game that only ended in a pile of corpses.

“Nanami, you can’t stay here all night—”

“I’m fine,” he rubs at his temples — and how long would it be until he’s staring at your body on that slab? Or maybe you’d be staring at his own—crying over his body just as he had done for Haibara, “you can go—”

“I’m not leaving you, and you shouldn’t stay here — you need sleep—”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he snaps, his gaze meets yours, “I’m not injured, I didn’t even get hurt— ”

“Yes you did,” you say quietly, as you step closer to him, but his eyes refuse to meet your own.

“No—” and your hand finds his chest.

“This pain is worse than any physical pain you could put in — and I wouldn't leave you to deal with a bruise by yourself, so what makes you think I’d leave you now?” you say softly, and tears burn at his eyes, as your hands gently pull him into your arms, his head buried against your chest, “I’m not leaving you, Nanami,” you murmur quietly, as your fingers slowly run through his hair.

And you didn’t — he was the one who left you.

~~~~

You never get sick. That’s what you loved to brag about — especially yesterday when you got home from spending an entire two days in the rain soaking wet and ice cold without a hint of cold symptoms.

You supposed your bragging was a curse in and of itself because now you were buried under your comforter. You barely manage to text Shoko that you’re sick and you won’t be able to make it to class today. And now you had to wonder if it was worth the effort to get out of bed to take your medication or to simply sleep it off.

But your body made the choice for you as your eyes fluttered shut and you slipped into a fitful sleep, body burning from the inside out.

Consciousness faded in and out, as you felt something brush against your forehead, your eyes heavy as they open ever so slightly, a flash of blue and blond, before you fall back into sleep.

Your head aches, muscles heavy, and the smell of spices wafted through the apartment, “Are you finally awake?” a voice said, as your eyes flutter open, still burning at the corners as your head turns.

“Nanami?” You croak out, throat raw and dry, as if your flesh was raked across coals, “what are you—“

He turns his head from your kitchenette — a ladle in hand, before he sets it down, wiping his hand with a dishcloth. And he steps over to your bed, pulling the washcloth from your forehead, before placing a cold washcloth, “your fever went down a little,” he said, “but I brought cold medicine and I made some soup for you,”

“You didn’t—“

“Have to?” his lips quirked up, “I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to,”

“How did you know I was—“ and his eyes find yours, “Shoko,” and he nods, you relax back into your bed, “how long have you been here?”

He turns back around to finish cooking the soup for you, stirring, the metal of the ladle slightly clinking against the sides of the pot, his eyes flicker to your clock, “About an hour and half, hasn’t been too long,”

“Why are you taking care of me?” you mumble, glancing at his back, as he lifted the ladle to pour into a small bowl to taste the seasoning of the soup, “you don’t owe me anything—“

“I owe you a lot,” he cuts you off, the clatter of the bowl against the counter as he sets it down, the click of the stovetop as he shut it off, “but that’s not the reason I did it,” and your brow is furrowing under the washcloth, as he walks over to you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Then why?”

And he raises an eyebrow, “Why do you think?” And his fingers brush your cheek, “you’re the only reason I’ve stayed here as long as I have, otherwise I would have left, a long time ago,” and you don’t know how it’s possible for your face to grow warmer but it does from his words and his touch that lingers against your cheek.

And he’s gone as quickly as he came, going over to the stove to take out a bowl of soup for you to drink, “can you stay after I finish eating? Until I fall asleep?” You ask, as he brings the bowl over, as you sit up slowly, head spinning as you do still.

“Of course,” and he does, staying by your side after you eat and take your medicine, hearing your quiet murmur, “thank you, Kento,”

And he realizes, as his lips curl into a smile, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, just how much he liked hearing his name on your lips.

~~~

“How did you manage to hurt yourself on our last mission together as students?” you sigh, the worry in your voice making his lips curl — as the two of you had just found yourselves in his dorm room, as you rifle through his bathroom to pull out the first aid kit you had given him (after you had learned he didn’t own one).

You return to him sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand up in such a way that he didn’t drip blood all over his sheets. Your fingers brush his own, and he’s still surprised at how soft your hands are. His hands had grown rough from the years of jujutsu, calloused from the grip of his fingers around his blade handle, but somehow, yours were always as soft as he remembered them.

Your fingers found his, warmth blooming as your brow wrinkled as you scruntized the cut on his hand, “Maybe we should ask Shoko to look at it—”

“There wasn’t any cursed energy that cut me — it was just—”

“Debris, I know,” and this seemingly did little to soothe your worries, had gotten when pushing you out of the way of the curse, “I had it handled — you shouldn’t have dove in—”

“It’s fine, it’s not that bad—” but your glare cuts off his sentence, as you begin to clean the wound.

You shake your head, “What am I going to do with you? Every time you go on a mission, I’m going to be worrying about what trouble you’re going to get yourself into,”

He’s silent, his eyes unable to meet yours — he can’t keep hiding this from you. He had made the decision months ago — and it was only a matter of time before someone else slipped up and told you (most likely Gojo).

“I’m leaving after graduation,” he says the words like ripping off the bandage, but it hurts him all the more when your fingers are still for a moment, your eyes finding his own, as you stare at him.

“You’re—” you cut off, and you don’t protest, you don’t argue — you only ask one question — “Why?”

And that one question was more difficult to answer than any other you could have asked, a sigh stuck in his throat, as he shook his head.

“I can’t do this anymore — I haven’t wanted to since—” he cuts off, mouth impossibly dry — it was easy to tell Yaga he wasn’t going to continue, even easier to take care of half a dozen grade 2 curses at once — but this was— “I can’t stand by and watch my colleagues die one by one beside me — I don’t want to live like this. I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Kento,” his heart squeezes at the sound of your voice wrapped around his name — what you had taken to calling him recently — “as long it’s what you want. I know it’s been difficult—I was surprised you hadn’t left when—” and your voice falters, neither of you could bear to bring up his name, refusing to even utter it around the other — as if it would summon every horrible memory from that time—and your voice is soft, “I just want you to be happy,”

And there’s nothing more than he wanted to be the one to make you happy — nothing more than he wanted to ask you to be by his side, let him be the one to take care of you, and nothing more he wanted than to ask you to leave with him—

But that was the one thing he could never ask you to do.

Just as you would never ask him to stay for you.

“I want you to be happy too,” he murmurs, as you continue to clean his cut, before your fingers are moving to grab the bandages, slowly beginning to wrap them around his palm, “more than even myself,”

“What’s new?” he wrinkled his brow, and you chuckle, “I mean, you never put yourself first, and I’m glad you are now. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not….here,” and you finish bandaging his hand, but his fingers curl around yours, “Ken—“

He squeezes your hand softly and his words are just as soft, “You would be the only one who could ever make me happy,” and he hears your breath catch, and it only makes him want to steal it from your lips with his own, “because I know that being by your side would be only thing that could satisfy me,”

Your fingers brush against his cheek, “Too bad I’m apparently in love with Gojo—“ you tease, all too pretty smile as you do, and his lips draw even closer, “Kento—“

“And if you’re so in love with Gojo, why are you here with me?” And he waits, waits for you to pull away, to stop him, to show any indication you didn’t want this—

But you close the gap instead, lips barely brushing his, so chaste, and yet it’s a spark to kindling — a fire neither of you should have lit. And yet, his lips find yours, insistent, his fingers cup your cheek, featherlight touch drawing a shiver down your body that he relishes in.

“Kento—“

“Why is it my name on your lips?” And he kisses you again and again, your noses brushing each other’s, he’s murmuring your name like a prayer, and if it was, he would worship at your altar each day, “Why it is that you’re kissing me?”

And your lips curl against his, as they find his again, “You kissed me first,” and he can taste the sweetness of the melon bread you had shared with him that morning, but something even sweeter that only be you, “so why did you do that?”

But you knew why — especially from the smile gracing your features, one that he wished he could have etched in the inside of his mind, “Isn’t it obvious?” and your lips part to answer, but he cuts you off with another brush of your lips, “I love you,”

And your eyes widen only slightly, but you’re kissing him again, arms curling around his neck, fingers sliding behind his neck — “Figured that out when you got jealous of Gojo, but I’m glad you admitted it,” and your forehead finds his, “and that I love you too,”

You loved him — you loved him — he had to tell himself again and again, but he still couldn’t fathom it. Was it a dream? You were always a dream to him — something he could nearly grasp with his fingers, but always remained just out of reach.

And now he held you in his hands and he never wanted to let go. But he had to — he knew he had to.

So he would — even if it would hurt — hurt that no bandage would fix.

He kissed you again, unless you were the one to place it.

“Why is it that I always find you like this?” Nanami’s eyes slowly met yours — he sat in Ieiri’s office, waiting to be seen, only find you there in the doorway instead, “it’s as if you’re asking to be patched up by me, Kento,”

How long had it been? And somehow he knows the answer before even thinking about it — it had been nearly a decade. A decade since the two of you had graduated — you moving to Kyoto to help run the campus there, while he had moved onto a regular college and then a corporate job — one that had nearly sucked his soul dry of any life he had to begin with. And it was only when he had received gratitude for the first time in a long time — that he remembered the reason he had stayed a jujutsu sorcerer after Haibara…

And now, here was the other.

He murmurs your name, nearly sounding foreign on his lips, “How did you—”

“I ran into your student, Nanamin,” and he furrows his brow at the nickname — Itadori’s little name for him after he had refused to be his sensei. Because he wasn’t one — Gojo may have taken up the mantle of teacher for his own personal ego trip — but he wasn’t ready to form relationships like that. And yet…his lips curl, there you were, “didn’t think you wanted to be a teacher,”

“I don’t, but how can I refuse that white haired idiot?” he half grumbled with a sigh, eyes still slowly grazing over you, “but I don’t want to talk about him right now,”

You draw a step closer, shutting the door behind you, a lilt in your voice as lovely as your grin, “Then what do you want to talk about?” and you stop right in front of him, as your fingers reach out, and he’s nearly leaning into your touch, but he’s wincing, as your fingers press against his bruised body, “because I want to talk about how you ended up in such rough shape,”

A sigh stuck in his throat, his next words nearly along with it, “It could have been much, much worse,” he murmurs, “if Itadori wasn’t there, I—” he breaks off, “that special grade — he could touch my soul and it had caught me in its domain—”

And your arms are pulling you into a tight hug, your fingers running through his hair, “But you’re here, you’re okay,” you murmur softly, your palm pressed against his chest, you can feel his heart pump under your fingers, “you made it,”

“But—”

“But nothing, Kento, you’ll make it back every time,” your fingers cup his cheek, pressing your forehead against his, “right?”

Your touch was the only thing that could truly make him feel whole again — as if every crack in his soul had been mended with gold, “how do you know?”

And your lips curl into a soft smile, your head tilting ever so slightly, “Because you love me, right?”

The chuckle on his lips is nearly enough to bite back his nerves as the words leave his lips, “I’ve loved you for years, sweetheart, that’s nothing new,”

You’re shaking your head, “And all these years, we always found our way back to the other, right?” your hand finds purchase on his shoulder now, the other against his cheek, “so we just have to keep doing that,”

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmurs, and your lips find his — and it makes him wonder how he had spent so much time without your touch, because right now it was the only thing keeping him whole — stealing the doubts from his head and the aches from his body — leaving only heat filling the empty gaps left behind.

“It is simple,” your hand interlaces with his, “if we let be.”

~~~

“I’m starting to think you hurt yourself on purpose around me more now that we’ve moved in together,” you examine the small cut on his finger, a nick from the knife that the ratio sorcerer had been using to slice his freshly baked loaf of bread. Scarlet slipped from the small cut, and his soft murmur of ‘ouch’ unfortunately had not gone unheard by you. He swore you must have selective hearing — you wouldn’t listen when he told you to go to bed, but you’d hear him hiss in pain under his breath even when half asleep on

“It’s not too deep, I think just a bandage should be fine,“ Your brow knit together as you purse your lips, and he bit back his smile, knowing it would only serve for him to get scolded for not being more careful.

“It’s nothing, love, I can take care of it—“ and his breath catches when your lips find their way around his finger, sucking slightly to ease the bleeding, your tongue flicking over the cut, “sweetheart—“ he swears under his breath, a distinct flush burning at the crown of his cheeks, “what—“

“They say saliva can help a cut heal faster,” you smile, before pulling a bandage out of the first aid kit you had pulled out, and your lips press a sweet kiss to his cut again, a smirk as you meet his gaze, “Ken—”

And he’s kissing you, your body tenses a moment only to melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck — he can taste his blood on your lips, raking your fingers through his hair. He can only think about getting closer, closer, closer — he needs you. His hands slide down your back, until they find your hips, squeezing, as he presses himself to you.

“Baby,” you murmur breathlessly, as your lips part his, a gasp that turns to a soft moan when his lips press heated kisses down your jaw. His nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, as he presses you against the counter of his apartment, his hands slide down, large palms grasping your ass, “I need—”

“What do you need?” his fingers sneaking up and down the sides of your body. His teeth graze your pulse, your head falls back, exposing more of your neck to him, as his tongue soothes the mark he left behind, “because you know I’ll give you anything you ask for, sweetheart,”

And his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter, calloused palms pressing your legs apart — but he barely has to, your thighs already spreading for him. And he finds your shorts nearly soaked through — your drenched cunt visible even through the two layers of fabric stuck together from your arousal.

But you don’t need to ask for him to know what you want — it’s second nature, it’s instinct for his fingers to dip inside the waistband of your shorts and underwear alike, tugging them both down, until you were kicking them off.

“Is all this for me?” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your inner thigh, as two fingers graze down your slit, gathering your pre on his fingertips, before he meets your gaze only to lick his fingers clean, “I was never one for sweets — except when it came to you. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,”

Your head lolls back, as his thick fingers circle your clit with practiced ease, pulling back only to drag his tongue up the length of your needy cunt. And your eyes find his again, heady gaze heavy with need and his pretty lips and chin already glossy with your juices.

“Kento—fuck,” your fingers thread through his blonde locks. First, one finger sinks in and then another —

his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue stretches your walls in tandem with your fingers, grinding against his face, “s’good, I can’t—“

But he’s relentless, the wet squelch of your messy walls and your choked out moans ring in his ears and are nearly enough to make him cum right in his pants — already far too tight, blood rushing downwards far too quick.

Another

“Such a good girl,” Kento murmurs, and you are, so perfect — “just let me take care of you,”

“Kento, please, more, need—“ and his lips find your clit, tongue flicking against the hardened bud, before sucking long and hard, while a third finger joins the other two. Your back arches, the coil in your stomach grows tighter and hotter — your slick dripping from your messy hole onto the counter.

His fingers squeeze at your flesh, and he could live between your legs forever — it could be his meal morning, noon, and night — he could spend hours lapping at you until you fell apart over and over. His fingers stretch you out far too deliciously, and your walls are giving that telltale flutter.

“Kento—g’nna cum—I—“ and his fingers are fucking you harder and his lips close around your clit, sucking hard, until you’re moaning his name, muscles growing tight as you fall apart. You’re a mess, your fingers trying to press his head impossibly closer as you grind against him, riding out your orgasm, as your juices gush over his face — and he’s lapping up every drop, as you fall limp against the counter, his arm slipping around your back to support you.

Your eyes flutter open to watch him pulling away with a pop, strings spit and cum connecting you to your cunt. His gaze drags over you, watching your juices drip against the counter, as he murmurs quiet praises, licking his lips clean of your release.

And your fingers find his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips, the filthiness of it all enough for his cock to grow even harder against your thigh. And it’s a matter of moments, before your fingers are tugging at his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his erection, his pretty cock all but ready for you — lovely ruddy head dripping with pearly white beads of precum.

“Look at what you do to me, love,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his, gaze blown out in lust.

“Kento, please,” and his lips curl, his fingers raking through your hair, as he pulls you even closer, his erection bumping against your sopping pussy, “I want—“

He drags his cock over your slit, watching his pre mix with your release, the two of you groaning when his tip catches on your clit, “what do you want sweetheart? Tell me, tell me what you need,” his arms are hooked around your knees, pressing them to your chest.

You keen when his tip teases your sopping hole, “I need you to fuck me—“ and you’re whining as his cock pressed into you, splitting you open on his length — and god you could never get used to how big he was — you could feel very pretty vein and delicious curve—

Fuck, he could bust just looking down at you, at the way your lips parted for him as he had sunk into you, the way he could see how your pussy stretched around his dick — like you were made for him. Pleasure ripped up his spine at the sight — his fingernails digging crescents into your hips.

And he knew that he was certainly made for you.

“S’good, s’full — please,” you’re nearly mewling, begging for him to move, “Kento—“ and he obliges, unable to hold back any longer, as he begins to slowly rock his hips against you, each stroke getting longer and deeper. His balls slap against your hips, as he picks up the pace — your walls squeezing around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, didn’t think you could get any tighter,” he grunts, his cock stuffed inside your walls, and he’s gritting his teeth, your soft moans and the noises of your pretty pussy becoming too much for him. White ring of release formed around his base — his balls growing tight as he inches closer and closer to blow his load, “you always can f’me, can’t you?”

And he gives a particularly hard thrust, right as his lips find yours in a messy, sloppy kiss — all tongue and teeth, your head falls back when his tip finds your g-spot again and again. You squirt all over his length, soaking him and the counter with your release, as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again. Your toes curl when he finally comes, his release painting your walls with his thick, hot release — fucking it deeper and deeper, and he’s notching himself inside.

You’re slumping against him, your eyes shut, as he pulls you closer into his arms, pressing sweet kisses all over your face until he finds your lips again.

“I love you,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open as he cups your chin, a soft smile on his lips.

“I love you more,” and he’s slowly lifting you, carrying you over to your shared bed, and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“But what about your cut?” You mumble, and a chuckle on his lips, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, as he sets you down on the bed, grabbing a damp washcloth to clean you up.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ve done plenty,” he murmurs, as he finishes cleaning you up, only to slip into bed beside you — “let me take care of you.”

~~~

It was over.

That’s what Nanami had thought when Mahito had stopped him in his tracks, his hand pressed against his chest, but more importantly, against his soul.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami said, his eyes unable to tear away from the curse’s.

He could barely feel anything anymore — the stinging had dulled somewhere between his trek down the winding tunnels of Shibuya station. Instead, he could only hear the echo of his footsteps, as he had forced himself to take one step forward over and over and over — and that’s when he had seen them.

The congregation of curses or mutated humans — he didn’t know which they were, but did it really matter at this point? It didn’t. He dispatched them all the same — all while his thoughts were only filled of you — you, you, you and you.

And a beach in Malaysia.

“Yeah, Kuantan would have been nice,” and it would have been — it was only a few months away. The vacation the two of you had meticulously planned out. The days spent out walking the beach, lounging by the water with the books neither of you had never read, and nights falling asleep by each other’s side to the metronome of the waves crashing.

And now, he had found himself, staring death in the face — an echo of his near death from only a few months ago. How had it come to this already? He had always felt he was running out of time — constantly watching the clock, trying to run it out for his retirement, only for it to run out before he could make it to those sandy shores he had dreamed of.

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips in an easy smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”

Nanami’s eyes fall to the floor, the dirtied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t feel like spilling his guts to a curse.

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.

And then he sees Haibara, appearing in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—

“Itadori,” Mahito says.

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — horror painted on his face, already so helpless — what else had he seen and now he had to see this too? He shouldn’t have had to see this. He should have been a normal kid — worrying about normal things — not fighting monsters in some damned subway tunnel.

But what could he do about what now? What could he do but stop?

Could he finally stop?

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.

But he couldn’t regret it now.

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from—“

And then there’s a crash — screaming, the sound of blood splattering. It takes him a minute to realize it wasn’t him.

It was you.

You had crashed between the two of them, sending the curse flying with your cursed energy, the impact drawing blood from you and Mahito alike. Your arm was around his body — and Nanami is whispering your name.

“I told you, Kento, we’re always going to come home — even if I have to drag you there,” you say, your eyes still flickering between Itadori and Mahito, “Itadori, tske Nanami—“

“No, this is my fight,” he shakes his head, his fingers clenched into fists, “I almost let Nanamin die — I have to do this—“

“Yuji—“ you say, but he’s already barreling towards Mahito, and you’re whispering fuck, as you take Nanami in the opposite direction.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” and his eyes are barely able to stay open, as you help carry his weight alone the deserted subway, “I’m sorry—“

“Why are you sorry—“ but he’s barely awake along enough to hear your question, until it’s all black.

It takes him several months to recover. Cursed energy healing could only do so much, especially since Ieiri was spread thin enough with everything between Shibuya, the Culling Games, and everything else that came after.

Most of the brunt of his care had fallen on you — you changed his bandages, tended to his wounds, dealt with any signs of infection with help from Ieiri, and handled everything else around the house.

“Why do you do all of this for me?” He asks quietly, one day while he sits, your back turned while you washed the dishes from lunch — the clinking of plates and the sound of water running that squeaks shut when he asks.

You turn, lips in a frown, “what do you mean, Kento?”

His fingernails dig into his knee, biting back a sigh, as you walk over after wiping your hands off, “it’s been months of you just…taking care of me. I don’t get it — I didn’t understand when we were students when you insisted on caring for me, and now…” he swallows, his throat still impossibly dry—even after all treatment, nothing still tasted the same, “I’ve just become a burden—“

You cup his cheeks, “Kento, you are never a burden to me—“

“But—“

“But nothing — wouldn’t you do the same for me if I was in your position?” But he’s shaking his head.

“It’s not—“

“Kento, do you remember our first mission together?” he blinks, his brow furrowing, but you only smooth it with your fingers, “it was my first mission — I had barely gotten the hang of using cursed energy — I hadn’t even exorcised a curse before, but as always, jujutsu society had left children to bear the burden of survival amongst themselves,” and your fingers find his, “but you never left me alone. I froze in front of the curse. I didn’t know what to do with myself — even while you dealt with two others on your own — you still managed to save me, even though you managed to hurt yourself in the process,” your voice was soft, your hand finding his, lacing your fingers with his, squeezing his hand — but he’s not sure whether it’s to remind him you’re here or to remind yourself that he’s still here, “and you don’t remember it do you?” his lips purse, as his eyes can’t find yours, gaze cast downwards, but he hears you give a soft chuckle.

“I look at you and I see all the ways a soul can bruise — because you’ve taken hits that weren’t yours to take — you’ve taken challenges that shouldn’t have been yours to bear,” your fingers skim over his cheeks, “even in what you thought were your last moments,” your voice breaks, swallowing back tears, “your thoughts were of others — of helping your students, of Itadori, of me—” you shake your head, “and you think I’m doing too much for you? I think you deserve so much more than me—“

“All I need is you,” his voice is breaking, swallowing thickly, “that’s all I ever wanted,”

“Then just stay here with me — that would be enough for me,” you lean close and press your lips to his — and even still, the taste of your kiss was never any less sweet, “all I want is to come home to you, you think you can handle that?”

His lips find yours again, as they always would, “I’ll show you.”

~~~

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” and Nanami chuckles, his hands hooked around your knees and thighs, as your arms wrapped around his neck, your head resting on one of his shoulders, “Kentoooo, you don’t have to—“

“I want to, and I’m not going to risk it getting any worse by letting you walk on the sand — the sunset was painting the water in hues of gold, pinks, and purples — and the beauty of this beach was only made better by your presence, “just let me do this for you, love,” and you sigh, relenting, as you bury your face in the side of his neck.

“My husband is so doting, just a small cut on sea glass makes you this crazy?” and he shivers slightly, but it’s not from the slight sea breeze tickling his nose, but from your nose brushing against your neck, “are we headed back already?”

“How else will we treat your foot?” your hands slide over his bare skin — the skin still scarred as it always would be, an eye tucked away under an eyepatch — unable to be saved — but your husband was saved all the same, “unless Ieiri taught you how to used reversed cursed technique before our vacation,”

“It’s really not that bad—”

“Is this your first time being a patient?” and you pout, as he chuckles, vibration of his sweet laugh against your chest as you press yourself impossibly closer, especially when you see the looks of others as the two of you walk by.

“It’s embarrassing to be carried like this,” you murmur, “come on baby, I can walk the rest of the way,” but he only hums, casting a small glance over his shoulder.

“I like carrying you like this,” his lips curled in a smirk, “everyone knows you’re mine this way,” and your cheeks burn, and you kiss his cheek, pouting as you do, “we’ll be back on the beach soon enough — we have all the time in the world sweetheart,”

And you did — you bury your face in the side of his neck again — with him—

Always.

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming!! i feel like with every one of these fics i'm never happy with them, but then they end up being better than i remember. apparently i just don't like my writing very much haha. i hope you guys enjoy <3 it's been so long since i wrote nanamin, so i hope it came out good <3

✧ taglist: @1angel-digits1, @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone, @freaky-show, @strangehuman101, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy, @chosobeee, @luneriaa, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @forest-fruits-jam, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @kenmei, @somrou, @spider-fan72, @missukiyo

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami x you #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader

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teaboot · 1 year ago

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OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

#I wanna be a PI someday but here I be for now #There are a few PIs that check in on child welfare and I like the idea of that #Like scoping out foster homes #Supervising parental visits #I might like that #Teablart

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artemisia-musings · 3 months ago

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A Broken Man Can Love Again

Minors DNI! 18+ only

Summary: Leon is tasked with training a new agent. He vows to protect her, but doesn't expect to fall for her.

Tags/Warnings: Fem reader, no use of Y/N, suicidal thoughts, violence, protective Leon, smut, trauma dumping lol.

Note: I've been super depressed lately so this fic has been kinda therapeutic to write. Protective Leon makes my heart flutter. Also this is my first time writing smut! Hope you like it <3

Leon Scott Kennedy worked best alone. It was easier that way, safer. He found it was often easier to work if he didn’t have some soft-hearted inexperienced rookie trailing along after him. He couldn’t stand to get attached to them, only for them to perish. He had seen far too many good men and women die at the hands of evil. The weight of every death hung heavy on him, a reminder of his failures to do what he had long ago promised to do. Save everyone. If he can’t even save his goddamn team, how is he expected to save the world?

Seven years since Racoon City, seven years since his autonomy was stripped away. He supposed it was for the best, although Leon couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who had to choose what to do with their lives. Claire was never given the choice between death or service, no, she got to run off and play humanitarian. He gritted his teeth, knowing he was being unfair. Of course, if Claire had known leaving him and Sherry would have resulted in them being kidnapped she would have helped. He tried not to hold it against her. He tried to remind himself that at the very least, he was still helping the world, saving it from those who would seek to destroy it. But as he walked down the halls of whatever government agency he was aiding that day, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hatred for those who had been given a choice to be there.

Most people he came into contact with at work didn’t even believe in B.O.W’s. And why should they? The government wiped the slate clean every time, burying the events so that the world wouldn’t panic. Very few government agents knew the horrors of the bio-weapons, and even fewer were properly trained on how to deal with them. The survival rate for agents like himself was low, to say the least. Hell, Leon felt like he had seen most of them die himself. Ripped apart, crushed like a bug, necks bitten and torn. He had become so desensitized to gore and violence over the years that it hardly even phased him anymore. Leon worked best alone, so his annoyance when it was announced he would be training a new rookie was astronomical.

“Hunnigan, you have to be joking right? I’m the last guy they want training someone,” he argued, pacing the office of perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend in the government.

Ingrid Hunnigan, ever the level-headed individual, merely shrugged. “They thought your experience with B.O.Ws, along with the recent success of your Spain mission, made you the best candidate to train her.” Hannigan paused from clacking at her keyboard.

“If things go well, they will most likely make her your new partner.” She said it so casually as if this wasn’t a tremendous update.

Their relationship was one built off of duty. Ever since his mission in Spain last year, he had taken a liking to the no-nonsense woman. She let him complain and whine about his job; about his loneliness. And while she couldn’t do anything to help him, she was able to provide him with a small amount of validation and comfort. The field support agent was perhaps the only person aside from his higher-ups who knew of his forced involvement in the agencies.

“If she lasts that long,” Leon grumbled under his breath. Hannigan cast him a sour look but Leon shrugged it off, knowing he didn’t get a say in the situation- he never did. Choice wasn’t something in his job description, if he had a choice he wouldn’t be here at all. Or would he? For the past seven years, he had been trained to be an agent, trained to be the perfect weapon against eldritch abominations created by capitalistic psychopaths, and before that he had spent years at the police academy, training to serve. All his adult life he had been taught to serve and obey, and he was pretty damn good at it too. An obedient little soldier, ready to die for his masters. If Leon had a choice would he still be here? He couldn’t fathom the possibility of a normal life anymore, not with the knowledge that the world was so corrupted and ugly, ready to implode at any moment. Leon never had the option to choose this career, why anyone would be beyond him?

Mumbling a goodbye, he left his friend before returning to his own office. He slumped down in the chair, booting up his computer. Might as well figure out who his partner is anyway. Leon knew it was a bad idea to get attached, but curiosity killed the cat. Pulling up her file, he was surprised to see how young she was, not even past her early twenties yet. Most recruits tended to be older, and more experienced in military combat and whatnot. An unease washed over him as he read her file closely, a pang of anger sparking in his chest. The girl was in a similar boat as him. Wrong place, wrong time. Welcome to the club, kid. She had been present during an isolated virus outbreak at a University football game and had the unfortunate accolade of being one of the few survivors. Anyone with the capability to stand up to an infected tended to capture the attention of the government. Leon gritted his teeth, trying to calm the rage that brewed inside him. Had they blackmailed her into agreeing to join? Threatening her family, her own life, if she didn’t comply? He hadn’t even met her yet and he was already miserating over her.

Leon looked closer at her photo, taking in the saddened but hopeful spark in her eyes. Was she trying to see the bright side of the situation? Did she think she would get to be a hero? Leon let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he tried not to dwell on the potential of losing another person, another partner, another friend; the heart can only handle so much. “I’ll try and keep you safe” he murmured to himself, glancing back up at the photo on his screen. This time it would be different. It had to be.

_______

It was a sunny day when he met his new partner. Leon stood in the training room, rays of light beaming through the windows as a suit-clad man escorted the young woman in, no doubt her handler. Leon sucked in a breath, remaining stoic as they approached, trying to calm his racing nerves. Despite what he might tell others, Leon wasn’t exactly well-versed in talking to women. He used to consider himself a smooth talker in college, but ever since he left the academy, his exposure to flirting opportunities had been limited, to say the least. The closest he had gotten to flirting was with Ada last year in Spain. Can it be called flirting when you have a knife to their throat? However, one night in seven years was still a losing streak in his eyes.

The nameless suit briefly introduced the woman, whom upon hearing her name called, hesitantly reached out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Kennedy,” she greeted awkwardly.

Leon huffed a chuckle, an eyebrow quivering in amusement as he slowly reached for her hand. “Please, just call me Leon,” he insisted, shaking her hand. It was soft, not yet hardened by callouses, and her grip was weak. Hands that had not seen battle. They shouldn’t see battle at all. She shouldn’t be here to begin with.

As the agent departed, Leon took in the sight of his new trainee. He had been told she had been put through basic military training, but it would be up to him to prepare her for the unpredictability of bio-weapons. Without hesitation, he unsheathed his knife, slashing it toward her and she yelped in surprise, arching backward to avoid the blade.

“What the hell?!” she protested, dodging yet another attack from him. Her movements were clumsy, but fast- he could work with that.

“You think a bio-weapon is gonna give you a heads up when it’s about to kill you?” He retorted, his knife nicking her cheek. “You think a corpse is gonna ask permission to bite you? That a mutated beast is gonna wait for your turn?” The girl grits her teeth, dodging and weaving his slashes. “You have to be ready for anything because these things will not hesitate to kill you.” His blade came into contact with her arm as he knocked her down and she fell with a grunt, glaring up at him. Leon bit back his tongue, ignoring the way her frustrated look pained him. It was for her good, he couldn’t let her training be easy, not if she expected to live through the next few years. As much as Krauser was a psychotic sadist, Leon couldn’t help but admit that his brutal training methods had been useful. He reached out his hand, the young woman hesitating before taking it.

“ That’s one hell of a hello,” she grumbled, and a smirk formed on Leon’s mouth. He pulled her up to her feet, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” he chuckled softly. “Now, let’s go get you bandaged up.”

____________

The seasons start to change and Leon starts to dread going to work less. Despite the colder nip in the air, he feels warm, and eager at the prospect of seeing his rookie. She has acclimated well to her new role, and while Leon wishes he could punch the son of a bitch who forced her to enlist, he can’t help but feel a spark of gratitude that she was here.

The rookie isn’t overtly chatty, and Leon can tell she still doesn’t fully trust him. He can see it in her eyes, like a deer eyeing a wolf. She’s polite and respectful, dutifully calling him honorifics and obeying commands, but Leon isn’t fooled.

There is snow in the air as he makes her run through an obstacle course. After all, not every mission she’s sent on is going to have pristine weather. She’s miserable, he can tell even from afar. She trudges through the snow, hauling herself over wooden walls, leaping over logs, and swinging from a rope. By the time she practically collapses over the finish line, her ears and nose are tinged red from the cold, and he can see her breath in the cold winter air.

“You took too long,” he said plainly, checking his stopwatch. “You took nearly five minutes, you can’t pass unless you do it in under two.”

The girl is panting, trying to regain her breath. She glances at Leon, a look of annoyance plastered clear on her face. “Fuck off” she wheezes, and a bead of sweat rolls down her forehead.

Leon can’t help but laugh at her crass words. He remembers how difficult it is, trudging through the snow or mud through the finish line. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done this over the years, how many times Krauser pushed him until he was at wit's end. Leon doesn’t want to be a cruel footnote in the history of her life. He doesn’t want her to look back on this chapter of her life with disdain as she remembers him. Leon isn’t sure of what he wants, or what he needs to give up to admit what he suspects deep down. He shakes his head, trying to push any conflicting feelings down deep inside him, burying this fleeting hesitation along with the rest of his hopes, dreams, and suppressed emotions. Leon isn’t here to get sentimental, he’s here to make sure this rookie doesn’t get murdered on her first mission.

“One more time” he orders, looking away from her and back over to the snow-covered course. “After that, you can take a break,” Leon adds, almost hesitantly. He shouldn’t be soft with her, but as her face lights up at the prospect of being able to rest, he can’t help but feel his heart flutter with a palpitation of happiness. He watches as she takes off once more, a newfound sense of energy overtaking her as she maneuvers the course. Leon can’t help but feel mesmerized as he watches her in a trance-like state, a surge of pride washing over him as she sprints over the last obstacle, gasping for breath as she crosses the finish line.

“One minute and forty-six seconds,” he said, stopping the timer as she smiled triumphantly.

“Nice to know your reward motivated, perhaps from here on out I’ll carry a little bag of treats for you,” he snarks, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips as she rolls her eyes at him.

“Woof” she responds dryly, “Now I believe I was promised a break?”

Leon nods, smiling to himself as he leads her towards the concrete building. “Let’s go rookie, I’m pretty sure the dining hall made hot chocolate,” he says.

“Is it good?” she asks, trailing after him.

“Not at all,” he admits. She laughs, throwing her head back as she does so. Leon can’t help but stop in his tracks, admiring her beauty as the snow falls around them.

__________________

It’s a quiet night, far too quiet for Leon’s liking. It’s the kind of silence that puts him on edge, reminiscent of a calm before the storm. He knows deep down he’s safe in this military facility, that there is no monster lurking in the dark shadows of his room, but he can’t bring himself to fully believe it. He tosses and turns in a light slumber, waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing and mouth agape. Nights like these aren’t uncommon; he's used to waking up in a panic. Not even in sleep can he escape the ghosts of his past, the terror that has plagued him for years. The line between nightmare and reality doesn’t exist for him, and he dreads the prospect of sleeping again. He pushes himself out of bed, his body aching from the thin mattress as he throws on a random t-shirt. He ran out of his hidden liquor supply a few weeks ago, but perhaps the kitchen has something that could calm his nerves. Leon feels weak admitting that alcohol is one of the few things that allows him to temporarily forget his trauma. He’s a man on a mission as he slinks through the halls of the base, careful to be quiet. He’d hate to have to explain to a commanding officer why he was out at this time. Sorry about that General, I was just looking for some spare booze cause I had a nightmare! That’d go over well. The kitchen is unlocked and seemingly abandoned as he peeks his head in, making a beeline to the cupboards. Lady Luck is on his side as he finds a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Bingo. The sound of sniffling startles him, shooting his head up to see the rookie curled up by a window, moonlight pouring down over her as she meets his gaze.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Leon asked, trying to keep a fragment of authority in his voice. It comes out cracking, his voice still husky from sleep and raw with emotions.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “You?”

“Tried to sleep, didn’t go over well,” he mumbled, grabbing two glasses. “Care for a glass?” he asks, already pouring one for her. He knows the answer.

“Please” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. Leon knows this look all too well. He pours them both a hefty shot, placing a glass in front of her as he takes the opposing seat to her. The rookie grabs the glass, swirling its contents around as she drinks deeply.

“I can tell you want to say something, might as well get it off your chest,” he offers, drinking from his cup. When he was in the academy Leon used to hate straight liquor. It burned his throat and made his eyes water, stinging on the way down. Now, Leon enjoyed the burn, it reminded him he could still feel. He didn’t even flinch any more as he drank it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” the rookie sighs. Leon can see that her eyes are glassy and bloodshot, with heavy bags under her eyes.

“I might be the only one who does,” he countered.

The rookie doesn’t say anything at first, just looking at him with a haunted expression. “I had to shoot my friend,” she said, turning her gaze to the window. The moonlight shines down on her, casting her in an ethereal glow. “One of those infected bit her, tore a chunk right out of her arm. She swore up and down that she was fine, but after a little bit she had to sit down,” she paused, pursing her lips as she got lost in the memory. “I was holding her hand when she died, was with her to the end. But then she came back, thought maybe I was going crazy, that maybe God was looking out for me. Then she looked at me with those pale dead eyes and lunged at me. Had to put a bullet in her head.” The girl tensed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“You did the right thing,” Leon assured her. The rookie doesn’t look very convinced, just shaking her head. “I had to shoot my boss,” he murmured in exchange. “First day on the force back in ‘98, I was wandering the halls of the Racoon City police department when I found him. Never even got a proper chance to meet him, everything had gone to shit by the time I had arrived,” he paused to chuckle dryly. “His name was Marvin, only knew him for a few hours, but he died saving me. I wouldn’t be here without him.” Leon paused, feeling a lump in his throat. He quickly took a sip of his whiskey, not wanting to cry in front of her. “He turned too and came back as one of those creatures. Had to shoot him, right in the head,” he sighed, feeling his eyes dampen with tears.

“Sometimes I think about all the ways I could have helped him, how maybe if I had just done something differently he would still be alive. God, maybe if I had gotten there sooner I could have saved more people..” he trailed off, realizing he was rambling.

He clears his throat as he notices she is staring at him, a pitiful look on his face. No, it wasn't pity. Leon was far too familiar with pity, he faces it damn near every day. He can hear their hushed whispers in the office as they huddle around the water cooler, casting glances at him as he passes by. His story is infamous in the agencies he visits. Leon isn’t some fabled hero or even a person. He’s a tragedy that people love to revisit. He can’t let the past die, not when it’s become so woven into his sense of self. The girl doesn’t regard him in pity, but rather a look of mutual sorrow and misery. She doesn’t try to dab at her tears as they begin to fall more freely.

“It was my fault my friend died,” she said, her voice thick with choked-back sobs. “I was the one who had dragged her to that game, where they released the virus,” she sniffles. “It was chaos, the stampede to leave the arena must have been worse than the infected. All you could hear was screaming, an endless roar of it. All I could focus on was her hand, gripping it to make sure she didn’t get lost in the sea of people. We were both so hopped up on adrenaline we didn’t even notice she had gotten bit,” she had to pause to take a deep breath, and regain her composure.

“Swat team had come, every police officer in the county too,” she shakes her head as if trying to get rid of the memory. “Not that it made much of a difference, pretty sure most of them perished in the end. I grabbed a gun off of a fallen cop, and the two of us managed to get away from the crowd.” Her face scrunches up as she recounts the night. “If I hadn’t made her go, she’d maybe still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault she died,” Leon said softly, hesitating before reaching his hand out to grasp hers. “We can’t ponder on the what-ifs, at least that’s what I read in one of those psychology magazines.” This makes her chuckle, her lips curling into a small smile as their eyes meet. It’s a strange way to bond, trauma dumping in the middle of the night, but it feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, making it a little easier to breathe. Moonlight drapes over them and Leon wishes he could freeze time.

______

Gunshots cut through the silence as Leon observes the rookie shoot. Her brow is furrowed with determination, a scowl on her lips as attempts to shoot the targets in the head. Body shots at best might stun an infected, and probably won’t do jackshit against a larger mutated beast. Headshots guarantee damage to some extent at least. Her posture is perfect—confident, determined—but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes, something that catches his attention. Anger, maybe? Or frustration? The gunshot rings out again. Another headshot. The cluster of bullets digs deep into the skull of her target, her scowl morphing into a satisfied smirk at the small victory.

“Not bad,” Leon said, a strange sense of pride welling in his chest. “You know your way around a gun.” She pauses, lowering the weapon as she turns to look at him. Her expression shifts into something he can’t quite place.

“Thanks, the only thing my dad ever taught me,” she said, huffing a dry laugh. “Hated it at the moment, but I suppose I’m thankful now.” Her words are flippant although her body has tensed up.

“Didn’t get along so well I take it?” Leon questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall. He can feel a familiar pang in his chest, the tug of commissary.

“That would be an understatement,” she rolls her eyes, Leon watches her carefully as she clicks the safety on and places the pistol on the table, her fingers lingering on the cool metal for just a fraction of a second too long.

“He was better than some fathers... but looks like I got served a helping of daddy issues anyway. He died a few years back, sometimes I’m almost thankful he passed before..” she trails off, gesturing to the room. Her words hang in the air between them, far more intimate than she probably intended. Leon stays silent for a moment longer than usual, not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because he’s unsure if he should say anything. There's a softness in her voice he didn’t expect. He struggles to remember his father, his family was taken from him when he was little. Sometimes if he tries hard enough he can see flashes of his face and feel the warmth of his embrace. But that’s all they are. Flashes of his past.

“I get it. Doesn’t always go the way we want, does it?” Her gaze flickers over to him, catching his eyes for just a moment, and that’s when Leon feels the change in the air. The weight of the conversation lingers, and the quiet moments stretch longer between them than either of them is comfortable with.

“It never does,” she says at last, sighing as she combed her fingers through her hair. “What about you? You close with your old man?”

“Old man died along with the rest of my family when I was a kid,” Leon says with a shake of his head. He pauses, searching through the distant memories as he tries to recall what his father was like. “I don’t have any bad memories of him, but don’t have many good ones either. He’s more of a feeling that haunts me.” The rookie just looks at him with an unreadable expression, as if she’s scanning his face.

“I guess we’re both haunted,” she says at last, breaking the silence between them. Leon can’t help but feel his lips tug into a smile. Vulnerability is not something that comes easily to him these days. It’s a weakness, something that can be used against him. Open yourself up too much and people are bound to steal bits and pieces from you. However, around the rookie, Leon can’t help but feel his walls weakening, baring his scars to her. He knows he should feel terrified to let anyone see the broken pieces of him, but all he can feel is relief that someone can see the real him.

_________

Leon can feel his heart in his throat as he sits down in Hunnigan’s office. It’s like a lump he can’t swallow, his esophagus tightening as if he’s about to choke. He knows why he was called here and it’s a moment he has been dreading since the rookie was assigned to him. He watches silently as his friend and colleague flips through the reports that he has provided on her, updates on her training and progress. The decision to send her into the field. To risk her life, to trust her on missions that could end in bloodshed or worse. He watches, almost disassociated, as Hunnigan flips through the reports on her progress.

“Everything looks good. Excellent, even,” she says, her voice smooth, confident. She adjusts her glasses, casting a rare smile in his direction. “You must feel proud.”

He just shrugs, unable to calm the nervousness swelling in his stomach. “I’m ecstatic,” he grumbles gruffly. He knows he’s being rude, she’s congratulating him on doing his job. He trained her and turned her from a survivor to an agent deemed worthy of missions. But Leon hates the idea of her out there in the field, risking her life. Too many what-ifs float through his mind, the unpredictability of their line of work fueling doomsday scenarios in his head.

Hunnigan doesn’t miss the bite in his tone. She glances up, her brow furrowing in mild concern, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she returns her focus to the papers in front of her, her fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

“I’m sure she’s ready,” he mutters under his breath, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to himself. Leon’s hands twitch, itching to grab something—anything—to release the frustration building inside him. He can feel his stomach twisting into knots, and the air feels too thick to breathe.

“Leon, you did everything you could,” she says, her tone more measured now. “You trained her. You gave her the tools. Now, it’s up to her.”

Leon huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His jaw clenches. “Yeah? And what happens when it’s not enough? When the situation’s too much for her? You know how unpredictable this job is. I know how unpredictable this job is.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing in front of her desk, every step fueled by the tight knot of anger and fear in his gut. His voice rises, rough with emotion. “ I didn’t sign up to watch her get torn apart, to watch everyone I fucking care about die!” hd snaps. “I did it…to protect people, to save lives. How many lives have been lost because of me? Because of my failures?” His voice trails off, the anger morphing into bitter sorrow. Finally, he grits his teeth and mutters, “I’m not letting her get killed out there.”

Hannigan smiles faintly, but it’s not one of triumph. More like understanding. “Then trust her, Leon. She’s ready. And she’ll prove it to you.”

He opens his mouth, ready to argue again, but something in her expression stops him. With a sharp exhale, he takes a seat again, tension still coiled in every muscle. It will be different this time.

________

It’s a quiet night, one of those rare peaceful moments that Leon always savors. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, a recognition of the hard work and training that had earned her a spot among the rest of them. She had passed, she was ready for missions, ready for the chaos and carnage that came with this job. And yet, all Leon could think about was the heavy weight of what that meant: ready to die. He takes another gulp of whiskey, the burn settling somewhere in his chest. He had taken her to a nearby bar, and it by no means was an elegant establishment. The decor was dated and dusty with the patrons even more so. Leon couldn’t help but find it charming, however.

She’s sitting across from him, smiling, talking about the future, trying to hide her quelling nerves. The dim lights of the bar cast shadows over her face, her body swaying slightly as she tapped her finger along to the beat of the old jazz music that permeated from the dusty jukebox in the corner. She sips at her beer, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes as she notices him staring at her.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious as her hand rises to dab at her lips.

He shakes his head, his lips tugging into an easy smile. “Do you want to dance?” he asks suddenly, his voice low and steady, almost like he wasn’t giving himself the chance to second-guess it. Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise. He hadn’t been one to make impulsive moves, especially with her. Still, there’s something in the way she holds her gaze that makes his stomach flutter. A chuckle escapes her, and she leans back slightly in her chair, putting on a dramatic sigh.

“Smooth,” she teases, but she doesn’t hesitate. She slides her palm into his, letting him pull her up with a small, amused shake of her head. “But I guess I’ll accept.”

“I’m hurt,” Leon says, gasping in mock offense as he pulls her gently toward the dance floor.

“And here I thought we had something special!” He spins her around as he pulls her close to him, hands resting on her waist as they sway to the beat. A soft laugh bubbles out of her, warm and light, before she looks up at him, the playfulness in her eyes softening for just a moment.

“We do,” she says quietly, her voice taking on an almost shy edge. “I don’t think I’ve been able to properly thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

The words hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Leon pauses, his heart skipping a beat. “Don’t mention it,” he says with a smile. His hand tightens slightly around hers, but he doesn’t let go. “You’re a damn good agent. You’ve earned everything.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes are focused on his face now, as if in a trance. His breath catches in his chest, and for a moment, the music around them seems to fade into a dull hum. It’s just the two of them now, dancing slowly, the rhythm of their steps matching the thudding pulse in his own heart.

Her hands slide up his arms, fingers brushing the edges of his shoulders as she pulls him into an embrace, He can feel the warmth of her body, the soft thumping of her heart against him. Leon’s own heart picks up speed, not used to such physical displays of genuine affection.

The distance between them feels like it’s finally being bridged. Something unspoken lingers in the air, a fragile tension that neither of them can ignore anymore. His hands find her waist, and he pulls her just a little closer, feeling the slight hitch in her breath as she melts into him.

She stays quiet for a moment, her body moving gently with his, the music guiding their movements.

“Leon,” she whispers, her voice low but sincere, “I don’t think I ever said it, but… I trust you. More than anyone.” A lump forms in his throat, and he closes his eyes for a second, steadying himself. He pulls back just a bit, enough to look into her eyes.

“You don’t have to say it,” he says, his voice soft. “I know.” The space between them, once filled with the unspoken tension of their roles, seems to vanish. And in that moment, Leon realizes that it’s not just trust they share—it’s something deeper, something neither of them had been willing to acknowledge until now. Her hand rises to his chest, pressing against his heart as their faces draw nearer. The soft glow of the bar lights paints everything in shades of amber, casting them in a haze of fleeting warmth.

“Leon,” she murmurs again, her voice barely a breath against his lips. He doesn’t need her to finish the sentence. He can feel it in the way her body trembles just slightly as she leans in, her lips so close to his that he can almost taste the moment. Without thinking, he closes the distance between them, the kiss soft and gentle, all things Leon isn’t used to. It’s a slow realization, a gradual unfolding of something neither of them had anticipated—but something that feels right. The world outside this quiet moment fades away. All that’s left is the warmth that Leon has been seeking for so long.

_________________

Everything has gone to hell. It started decently enough, a typical case of a B.O.W that had been released into the public, stirring up terror. It all went wrong so fast. An explosion rattles through the air, and Leon can feel the heat from the flames, the force pushing him back, falling onto the pavement. The pain from the impact is forgotten as he hears her scream. His heart stops beating as he forces himself up, finding a new sense of adrenaline as he races to where the creature has her cornered. It's one hell of a genetic fuck-up, a big hulking beast with withered skin that looks like it’s been burnt. Elongated limbs drag on the ground as it skulks toward her, bony claws decorating the tips. Its gnashing teeth are aimed at ripping into her throat, the beast's mouth is already stained with blood. Leon can’t think straight, the only thing in his mind is her. He races as fast as his strained legs can carry him, a wild frantic look in his eyes as he raises his gun to aim. The creature has her in its grip, its mutated hand grabbing her by the throat, threatening to crush her windpipe as it dangles her above the pavement.

“No!” Leon cries out, feeling as though his entire world might shatter. Her legs are twitching and kicking, eyes bulging out of her skull as she opens her mouth in a vain attempt to suck in even a breath of air. Leon aims and sends a cluster of bullets towards its skull. The beast roars in pain, flinging the girl against the pavement as it lumbers towards him. Leon grits his teeth as he sends more bullets flying toward it, and by some sheer luck, one manages to go right through its eye. He breathes out a sigh of relief as it finally stumbles forward, succumbing to the fatal blow. His victory is short-lived though, his eyes falling on the rookie. She still hasn’t moved, remaining limp on the cold cement. Leon kneels beside her, ignoring the pain from his own aching body as he gently cradles her in his arms. She is pliable and unmoving, like a ragdoll in his arms as he brings her to his chest. Her lips are tinged blue from lack of oxygen and her neck is inflamed from the strangulation, but Leon breathes out a sigh of relief as his fingers find her pulse, a steady thump emanating from her. As the chaos fades away, reinforcements finally arrive at the scene, Leon holds her in his arms, unwilling to let go. A medic approaches, trailed by a pair of agents.

"Please," he bemoans, trying to quell the fear in his heart as the medic kneels down beside him, gently taking the girl from his arms. He watches intently, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his chest. She was hurt. He hadn't been enough to protect her and she had gotten hurt. He feels tears prick in the corners of his eyes and he has to remind himself that he is being watched and judged right now. Leon forces himself to remain stoic, however on the inside, he can't help but lament that he failed her.

____________

The days following the mission were quiet. Leon had invited her to rest in his apartment, not trusting those bastards to give her the proper time to recover. It was strange having another person in his space, hell, he wasn’t used to having his own space. The apartment was a place he felt he hardly spent time in, being shipped around at the government's whim. It was nice to have something in his name though, and even nicer to have someone share it with him. The rookie made his sterile apartment feel more like a home than it ever had before. Leon fell into the role of caretaker quickly, letting her rest in his bed as he brought her tea for her throat and helped bandage her wounds. She would lament, saying she wasn’t dead yet and could care for herself, rolling her eyes playfully whenever he poked his head in to check on her. He couldn’t help himself though, part of him was still in shock that she was alive, that she had come out of that mission with her heart still beating. Leon knew his feelings weren’t strictly platonic, not after the kiss they had shared at the bar, not after the soul-sucking fear he had felt after cradling her limp body amidst the aftermath of the chaos. Feelings were a luxury he hadn’t let himself indulge in in years. This isn't lust, he knows that much. Lust is like a quelling fire that burns in his gut, one that’s hot and heavy and must be put out lest he be driven mad. No, how he feels is not a burning passion, but a steady flame, like laying by a crackling hearth and letting the warmth wash over him. As he looks into her eyes, he feels as if he is home. Leon isn’t sure if he has ever experienced love, but he imagines that this is what it feels like.

One evening as they are sitting on the edge of his bed, only half paying attention to a movie he had rented, he turns to look at her, feeling his chest swell with that warm fuzzy emotion again. He doesn’t have to put up a facade of strength and bravery, a performance of a loyal government agent. With her, she sees him for what he is. A scared broken man. Leon can’t afford to be vulnerable very often, neither of them could, but perhaps for now they could both step out of their protective shells and be who they are.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, mesmerized by her. She turns to meet his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. She doesn’t say anything at first, the silence deafening as Leon starts to wonder if perhaps this was a mistake.

“I love you too,” she finally admits, her hand reaching for his as he meets her halfway, tenderly holding hands as if they were a pair of schoolchildren in the playground. Leon can feel his heart swell, his mind growing fuzzy as he tries to wrap his head around this feeling. Relationships are impractical in this line of work, and he can’t be certain of his future, much less one he could have with her. To calm the flood of emotions that are coursing through him he does the only thing he knows that can calm him. He lurches forward like a man possessed, crashing his lips to hers as his hand comes up to clasp his face, her palm gently grasping his cheek as if he was a piece of treasure that might slip through her fingers less she is too rough. It’s an odd feeling, to be cherished Leon thinks to himself as he kisses her. He doesn’t think of himself as worthy enough to be cherished, to be loved at all. In his mind, he is unworthy, just a broken man who isn’t sure of what exactly he is doing, not used to making his own choices in life. But as the kiss grows more heated, Leon can only think of one thing he wants to do. To worship the woman he loves.

Leon falls to his knees before her. He doesn’t believe in God, not anymore at least. But as he looks up at her angelic face, he imagines this is what God’s love must feel like; warm and comforting, ever-present as he feels the adoration inside of him, seeping into his bone marrow. She spreads open her thighs and Leon doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between them. His tongue is pressed flat against her core, licking a steady stripe up her slit. He can’t tell if it's her musky sweet scent that makes him feel as though he has been electrocuted or the way she parts her lips and moans, but the feeling shoots straight to his groin.

“Don’t hold back angel, I want to hear you sing” he murmurs into her folds, pressing kisses to her clit as she arches her back as he wraps his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He buries his face into her core, her legs twitching as they wrap around his head, pulling him in closer. She’s whimpering and moaning as Leon has his mouth around her clit, tongue swirling around it as he slowly sinks a finger into her. The tightness is warm and wet and Leon can’t help but groan at the feeling. He sinks his finger into the knuckle before pulling out, slowly easing another one into her. He pauses as she adjusts to the feeling, holding still to simply bask in the way she looks. Mouth open, frozen in wanton pleasure as she starts to squirm, a silent plea for him to continue. Leon happily obliged, building up a steady pace with fingers, the room echoing with a mixture of her moans and the squelching of her arousal. His fingers thrust into her at an angle, finding that special spongy spot as her breaths came out in pants. Leon couldn’t help but feel a smirk tug at his lips as he began to repeat his motions, watching in awe as her chest heaved and her stomach tightened. A few quick kitten licks to her clit had her throwing back her head, her fingers entangling themselves in his hair. As she comes undone, he continues to work her through her orgasm, fingers finally slipping out as he pulls his face back, his chin glossy with her arousal. He crawls up her body, running a hand along the curves of her face as he presses his lips to hers and he can’t help but melt into her. She is everything he is not, and he feels as though he has found a missing piece of his soul.

“I love you,” Leon murmurs, breaking away to gaze into her eyes. He can’t bring himself to care about the ramifications of his actions, the potential discourse of his admission of affection. At this moment, he is not an agent, he’s just a man in love.

“I love you too,” the rookie whispers back, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Leon groans softly, feeling all too aware of his growing desire. The rookie reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulls him back to her.

“I’m ready if you are,” she says, her lips ghosting over his ear. Leon suppresses a shudder as meets her lips in a kiss, his free hand grasping the base of his cock as he runs in through her slick folds. With a groan he slowly sinks into her, the warmth enveloping him as he loses himself to her. He stills for a moment, the pair basking in the feeling of becoming one before Leon slowly starts to thrust, pulling out before gently thrusting back up into her. A whine leaves his mouth before he can stop it, the pleasure is all-consuming as he keeps up a gentle thrust. Her arms cling to him, a hand trailing down his back. Leon can’t tell where he ends and where she begins, all he can feel is the tightening of his stomach, his pace becoming more erratic as the coil inside him grows taut. He raises her thigh, pulling back slightly to worm a hand between the two of them, his calloused finger on her clit as he massages it, building up the pace until he can feel her clench around him, her whines and moans growing to a high pitch. Leon watches as her body begins to shake against him, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he waits for her to finish. It’s a beautiful sight to watch her come undone against him, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. With a final grunt, he pulls out, his hip bucking upward into his hand as cums on her stomach, his body shaking from the feeling.

He falls beside her, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving from exertion. His arms wrap around her, pulling her close to him as he closes his eyes and presses a kiss to her temple. There are no words to be said. The night will soon end and it will be a new day. Leon isn’t sure what the future holds for them as their lives are not theirs to control. If he could freeze time he would spend an eternity like this, pressed up against her, frozen in a kiss until the end of time. Leon couldn’t think of a more beautiful existence.

Note: I hope you've enjoyed this! Posting makes me nauseous lol. If there are any errors I apologize!

Tag:@tarantulasnot

#Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #Resident Evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #resident evil x reader

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hellishjoel · 1 year ago

Text

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air.

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets. You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M.

Joel Miller.

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes.

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over.

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension.

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist.

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor.

Virgin.

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings.

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind.

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit.

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs.

You shakily exhale as he warms you.

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job.

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck.

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk.

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it.

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity.

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity.

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings.

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur.

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed.

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless.

“I think so.”

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it.

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time.

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you.

But thinking about him wasn’t enough.

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin.

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment.

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him.

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.”

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care.

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office.

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office.

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him.

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice.

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning.

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office.

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you.

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.”

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline.

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.”

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper.

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear.

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence.

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips.

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing.

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip.

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.”

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong.

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight.

You’ve never seen a man so hungry.

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils.

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point.

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind.

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush.

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words.

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows.

“You- what?”

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk.

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop.

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine.

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak.

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin.

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk.

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along.

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his.

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs.

“No, definitely not.”

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.”

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.”

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk.

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke.

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties.

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn.

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it.

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.”

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look.

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile.

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does.

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine.

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking.

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.”

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back.

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him.

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again.

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps.

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs.

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze.

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are.

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.”

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it.

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk.

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants.

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.”

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes.

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him.

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one.

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes.

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him.

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well.

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards.

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger.

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey.

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk.

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.”

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk, dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him.

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions.

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you.

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this.

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss.

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey.

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.”

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers.

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance.

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure.

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously.

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too.

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head.

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him.

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge.

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.”

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please.

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth.

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows.

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth.

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor.

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw.

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish.

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you.

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps.

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth.

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight.

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy.

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine.

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.”

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does.

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth.

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm.

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided.

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like.

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp.

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights?

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more.

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good.

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment.

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently.

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second.

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him.

Now you’re really aching for him, wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria.

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now.

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips.

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it.

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside.

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?”

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him.

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach.

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips.

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot.

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared.

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin.

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern.

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.”

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit.

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously.

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him.

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds.

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine.

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time.

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing.

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile.

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.”

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.”

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution.

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.”

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls.

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper.

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you.

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features.

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body.

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt.

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full.

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal.

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you.

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.”

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions.

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear.

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep.

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to.

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.”

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off.

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands.

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction.

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt.

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more.

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own.

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions.

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you.

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest.

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond.

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison.

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you?

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name.

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm.

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.”

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you.

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light.

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers.

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven.

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths.

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves.

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his.

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp.

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp.

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you.

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm.

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom.

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze.

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any.

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy.

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces.

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet.

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head.

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile.

“Or your tongue?”

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug.

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.”

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers.

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin.

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already.

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-”

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water.

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops.

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk.

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens.

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle.

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo.

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.”

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.”

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients.

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins.

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.”

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard.

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.”

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.”

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.”

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution.

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back.

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process.

Joel sighs.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this.

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him?

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him.

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back.

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.”

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused.

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.”

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.”

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller.

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title.

The Obsidian Gallery

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller.

next chapter ->

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local-diavolo-anon · 10 months ago

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i'm back!

ok so 2/3 days ago i found this youtube video where op turned Springtrap (or well, William Afton) into a fully build DnD character, and if i say so myself: things got out of hand fast

so here is my take on DnD Springtrap and specifically on that build (adding more infos under the cut for who is interested, i suggest to watch the video first)

starting with saying that unless you're playing in a scifi setting, this build is either not for you or to be modified, since in later levels spells are heavily centered around technomagic and electronic devices; personally when i will play him i will probably tinker around with the chosen spells and cantrips to make him less violently niche and/or more versatile

which kinda saddens me because it takes away not little of the characterization but, given most dnd stories take place in a medieval fantasy or high fantasy setting, a cantrip like On/Off or a spell like Remote Access are NOT particularly useful; so i will go for more psychic damage or necromancy oriented abilities, maybe i might take more than just 4 levels in artificier as well (especially given that again, all of those warlock spells at later levels are all technology oriented) but i need to see what those offer

however it is a kinda tank-y build given that with a shield on you can get up to a 27 of Ac, so even with low damage and not much hp you would not struggle too much to stay alive, and i like that!

as for the character himself, i put too much effort into my interpretation not to share it, so if anyone wants to play this guy as well, i fabricated a possible backstory that might come useful:

The character goes by the name "Dave Miller" (or whatever variant you want to use), and was originally a human artificier who created constructs for a living, mainly with the goal of offering aid to who needed it for whatever reason.

There however he ran into an issue, that being that a robot need a power source, and his own heart and lungs could not sustain a whole robot by themselves.

After losing part of his family to some kind of accident he became terrified of death, so with age he started replacing his own body parts with machinery to delay his last days (which made him a cyborg), until the point where he was very very close to become just a robot.

(This part may or may not involve a pact with a deity of death, this entirely depends on how you want to play him but it would make sense since the build is an artificier/warlock hybrid)

Through particular and very much not illegal experiments tied to necromancy he discovered that the life force of a living being could be shared, and used as a form of fuel. (possibly: age lived of the creature used= amount of extra months you get)

Here comes the second problem: this only worked with intelligent creatures, and more specifically, it worked best with creatures of your own race, which meant that he either went around murdering people or he found another solution. Non same-race creatures worked as well but not as good and there were not easy to find in the middle of a city and with a shop tied to your name.

And here is where and WHY he'd join a party of adventurers: after some time, his reserves or fuel were running VERY thin, and running into a group of adventurers was a god sent because by joining their party he essentially got a free pass to kill whoever he wanted, and reduce them to a dried raisin after sucking some life force out of them. Doing so you learn that the mowe powerful the creature is, the more energy it produces as well.

Your goal, that you as the player are following, when role-ing your character? essentially slay whatever powerful BBEG your Dm throws at you and suck all of that juicy fuel out of them, so that you can return to your little shop in the middle of the capital and return to create and sell whatever weird construct, doll, or robot comes to your mind for another few decades undisturbed.

And this is it. I think this might be a good backstory that could fit pretty much any setting you want to play this guy into, be it classic dnd or some scifi futuristic thing.

of course you don't NEED to use this one line per line, make up your own without looking back if you don't like it lol, dnd is the "make up shit and have fun" game after all!

Edit: also no his outfit makes no sense, i just went with vibes and decided a tanktop dress shirt, a twin tailed gilet and suspenders OVER said gilet was a good choice.

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roseyrenegade · 1 month ago

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Relaxing (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

description: You're secretly married to Bucky Barnes, you've just moved to NYC and he's been gone for his longest mission in a while. You have a nice, relaxing reunion in your home.

this is my first fic in a while pls be nice ily

Post Thunderbolts, fem!Reader

warnings: smut MDNI, mentions of blood and injuries

You let out a deep sigh, content in all of your senses. The earthy, fresh scent of body wash filled your lungs. You were the most comfortable you’d been in a while, laying with Bucky on the couch in your shared home. He sat upright, slightly slouched so your head can rest on his stomach. You lay longways, a hand resting on his sweatpants-clad thigh. His heart beat softly against your cheek, the well-worn t-shirt on your lover acting as a pillow. Warmth spread on your hip, Bucky’s flesh hand resting on the edge of his shirt you wore.

This was the first night you’d had together in weeks. Your days had been the normal level of busy, it’s Bucky who was suddenly everywhere but here. His responsibilities with being back in the field taking up an absurd amount of time and energy. While you could see how happy it made him to be on a team, you couldn’t help but feel sad about having less of him to yourself.

His time working in DC was time consuming, but at least he could attempt to read the long packets while sitting near you at home. This new role didn’t include as many emails that could be answered laying in bed, or at the counter while you cooked dinner. The time it took for him to freshen up after his day tripled, and sometimes included you administering first-aid. It killed you to see him walk in with bruises on his face, the way a ghost of a wince would go across his face as you dabbed antiseptic to the cuts he’d collected.

He’d sit on the edge of the tub, watching you patiently take care of him every time. Telling you about his day, he’d complain about something sarcastic Yelena said or a theatric idea from Alexei, but you could sense the fondness in his tone. He wasn’t really talking about it to complain, he seemed proud to remind himself, and you, that he had companions. Ones that brought a smile to his face, even on missions that felt more performative than helpful. He now had friends to talk about with you, instead of needing to vent about the boring politicians he had to play nice to.

Once the “New Avengers” were announced, he’d swiftly relocated the both of you to Brooklyn from DC. While it was sudden, you welcomed the change in scenery. You’d been able to find a cozy apartment, and Bucky was happy to be back in a semi-familiar area. The year since the move has flown by somehow, time now passing only in the context of how long until he’d be home from missions.

The most recent one was the longest yet, keeping him on the other side of the continent for the better part of a month. You’d done your best to keep busy. Communication from Bucky was minimal due to his work, you knew he was busy, but that didn’t totally keep worry from seeping in. The apartment was the cleanest it had ever been, you’d finally read the stack of books by your bed, you’d even attempted to throw yourself into learning a new language in hopes of distraction.

You had been starting to cook dinner when your phone buzzed against the counter, briefly pausing the music playing from it. Snatching it up, you saw your husband’s contact glow on your screen for the first time in 2 weeks.

I’ll be home in 20 minutes

The text made your heart race, you quickly sent a response with shaking fingers.

See you soon <3

After that, it had been a flurry of freshening up and making dinner. Your hunger had disappeared with the excitement, but you wanted something to be ready in case Bucky needed to eat. The only thing you had been wearing was panties and one of his shirts, however you took a few minutes to put on perfume and fuss over your hair. As if the tidiness of your bangs would be anywhere near on your husband’s mind when he finally got home.

The familiar hum of Bucky’s motorcycle broke through the music. You were lighting the last of a few candles when you heard his keys knock against the door. He stepped in, and you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. The man looked exhausted, which only made his own grin that much more endearing. Kicking the door shut behind him, he dropped his helmet and bags to the floor. He bent down and scooped you up, both of his solid arms wrapping tightly around your waist. Your feet dangled above the floor as you put your arms around his neck, neither of you saying a word. He put his face down into your shoulder, taking a deep breath like he hadn’t been able to fully breathe since he left.

When he exhaled, his shoulders fell slightly. You could tell that he was drained, not only from his tired eyes, or the exhausted fashion in which he let his belongings fall to the floor. He usually had at least a few things to say, some quip about how tired he was, even. You pull back slightly, enough to get a better look at him without breaking the embrace. His dark blue eyes found yours, lids heavy. You rest your forehead against his, bringing a hand up to cup his face. His unkept beard was soft despite the rugged condition of the rest of him.

“Hey” you whispered, not wanting to totally break the peace of your home.

His lips quirked up into a soft smile at your voice, pieces of his hair falling forward to curtain both of you.

“Hey, Doll.” he whispered back, tired but still playfully mimicking your volume. You lean in and give him a gentle kiss, restraining yourself from fully expressing just how much you missed him. He lets you down from the hold after you pull away, letting his vibranium hand run up your arm to not break contact. Bucky takes another deep breath, slowly relaxing as his body realizes he doesn’t need to be in fight mode anymore.

You walk with him towards the bathroom, helping him unbuckle his combat belt and jacket, turning on the shower to start heating up. He keeps his eyes on you as you check his body for cuts, he knows that he’s fine but he lets you do it anyways, it makes you feel better. His work makes you feel out of control, being secure in his safety once he’s home becomes a much stronger comfort than before. He kissed you again, in a way to say I’m okay, I’m right here.

Bucky showers quickly, throwing on the t-shirt and sweatpants you’d put out for him. When he walks out, he finds you laying on your side on the couch rewatching one of your favorite shows. You turn when he appears in your peripheral vision, smiling at his presence. He politely declined your offer of dinner, preferring to take the place of the cushion you had your head on.

He gently stroked the skin of your hip as you gave him updates, telling him about what you’d been up to. You felt the vibrations against your cheek as he replied. He asked about your projects and your friends, then told you about his month. He explained as much about the mission as he could, casually mentioning injuries that would be major for anyone other than a super soldier. He tensed when you told him you’d sprained your ankle a couple weeks ago in the park, but you were able to assure him that it wasn’t serious by lifting your leg and wiggling your foot around. He relaxed again, laughing softly with you at the contrast and running his metal fingers through your hair.

You fell into a comfortable silence, both watching The Twilight Zone and relaxing into each other. Bucky’s right hand had traveled from the peak of your hip down to the fabric of your panties, lazily dragging his fingers close to your warmth. You shifted on the couch, bending your knee up to give him more access. Your heart rate picked up, anticipating the touch you’d been deprived of for too long. The wetness between your legs had been growing since his name appeared on your phone, body being much less patient in his homecoming than your mind.

The cool air hitting your damp center was quickly replaced by your husband’s large hand, more purposefully pressing into you where you need him. A light gasp leaves you, absently grabbing his thigh where your hand had been resting. You see him growing hard under his pants, just inches between where your head still lays and where your hand is holding on. He runs his hand across your swollen lips above the fabric, causing you to rhythmically rock your hips against the couch cushion, trying to get more friction than he’s chosen to give you.

Bucky’s breathing has gotten heavier, not pretending or trying to watch the television anymore. His metal hand was stalled in your hair, his focus having entirely shifted to the damned piece of fabric separating him from his wife’s pussy. You had begun to palm his hardness, feeling him throb through the sweatpants into your hand.

“Bucky, please, just take them off” you pleaded as he continued stroking your clit far too softly for your liking.

He chuckled at your frustrated tone, making your head lightly bounce on his hard stomach.

“Yes, ma’am.” He muttered in a faux exacerbated manner, like you’d told him to do a chore.

While he leaned over to pull the panties down your legs, he didn’t notice you pulling his pants down just enough to let his cock out. Though you couldn’t see him from the way you lay, the slightly smug grin left his face. Not only was he feeling truly how wet you’d become, but also the warmth of your mouth and hand on his straining erection. You both let out moans, yours muffled by his length as you slowly warmed yourself up to take all of him. The sight beneath him was blissful, his hand massaging your swollen clit. He switched between rubbing patterns into it and letting two of his fingers penetrate you. You rocked yourself onto his fingers, the pressure in you building while simultaneously pushing you on and off of his cock. Your eyes watered from the back of your throat finally being nudged, adding to the blissful sensory overload. His balls felt heavy in your cupped hand, his groans urging you to continue your motions.

The sensation of your warm, loving mouth, and the fluttering of your walls around his fingers was bringing Bucky to the edge, fast. He knew he wouldn’t last long after their time apart, but every time with you was somehow even better than the last, and he was never prepared. The cool metal offered you comfort as he pushed your hair back, he got a glimpse of your flushed face and stroked your cheek with his thumb. You hummed at the erotic contrast of lewd to loving.

The vibrations went right to his core, “Doll, I’m gonna finish quick if you keep that up” He said like a reprimand, as if it wouldn’t encourage you. He kept his pace with his fingers, adding a third when he started penetrating you again. You had to pull back off of his cock, almost choking on the moan he drew from you. You kept his sensitive length in your grasp, subconsciously continuing to stroke him as you whimpered into his shirt. Your husband found that angle, the one that caused you to curse at him before gushing onto his hand.

“Fuck, Bucky, don’t stop,” you panted while he worked you, praising you as your orgasm washed over your body. “I wouldn’t dream of it, gorgeous” He tried not to focus on the need to lift his hips further into your grip, holding himself back from his own release to make sure yours lasted as long as possible. Taking care of you was always his priority, no matter how desperate he was to come.

“God, I missed you.” Bucky said, almost to himself as he watched your body start to relax, the shirt you wore sticking to your skin in places from sweat. Small moans continued to fall from your lips as he eased his fingers out of you, stroking your sensitive clit as gently as he could.

“I missed you more” you breathed against his skin before taking him back into your mouth. The sight of you coming kept him on the brink, so it only took a few short strokes before you felt him pulsate on your tongue. He moaned under you, his hips jerking at the overwhelming sensation. Bucky emptied himself into your throat, the slightly salty liquid filling your mouth for a moment before you happily swallowed around him. Every time you made your husband orgasm, it felt like an achievement, you were always happy to help relieve his stress.

You let his cock rest in your mouth as he softened, not wanting to let go of the intimacy just yet. You’d only had your own hand for a month, so you were taking every second of Bucky you could get. His hands traveled over your body, under your (his) shirt to caress your breasts, taking his time to re-memorize you and appreciate every inch of skin.

The candle closest to you flickered as you let him fall from your lips, pressing a light kiss to his skin before tucking his mostly soft cock back into his sweatpants. You rolled over and scooted to lay on your back, head now on his thighs, able to make eye contact for the first time since he sat down.

Bucky gazed down at you, your hair was tousled and there was drool going down your cheek still, the warm candlelight highlighting it intermittently. You’d forgotten how exhausted he looked when he first arrived home, a soft relaxed expression now on his face. He raised a hand to wipe the moisture from your cheek, eyes giving you another once over checking for anything he could do to make you more comfortable. You smiled at his caring motion, “I’m glad you’re home, Buck.”

“Me too, Doll,” he leaned forward to catch your lips gently, the warm light hitting the side of his face. Bucky reluctantly stood up, replacing himself with a pillow so you didn’t have to move. You watched as he went around blowing out the candles and turning off lamps, he slipped around the corner to the kitchen and you heard him putting the dinner you’d left out in the fridge. A smile stayed on your face, feeling loved in knowing he was making sure you could relax and go to bed now.

Bucky reappeared in the dark living room and stood over you for a moment before scooping you up bridal-style.

“I told you my ankle is fine, I can walk down the hall myself,” you told him, not physically resisting at all. “I know you can,” he replied. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, placing a kiss on his now freshly groomed face as he walked you both down the hall to your bedroom. He put you down at the attached bathroom, you cleaned up and brushed your teeth together, silently relishing in the familiarity you’d both missed.

Finally climbing into bed, you immediately placed yourself at Bucky’s side under the covers. The queen mattress had felt empty the last few weeks, you had taken your husband’s large presence for granted. Now, you clung to him even more than before, making him smile above you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and kissed the top of your head. He could tell that you’d fallen asleep after a few minutes, your breaths having slowed and your grip around him slacked. He fell asleep soon after, brainstorming excuses for why he wasn’t showing up at work tomorrow.

#bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #marvel smut #thunderbolts #james buchanan barnes

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aphroditesmoon · 4 months ago

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smoke signals (part ii)

lighthouse keeper!sevika x selkie!reader

summary: sevika is content with her life, the loneliness that comes with her job is inevitable. but then one day, as she reaches the peak of mundanity, almost turning into insanity, you appeared. cold, quiet, clueless, sea-sent you, like a wish fulfilment for her.

warnings: selkie!reader, reader has selective mutism in beginning.

a/n: thank you for the love on part 1!!! i love selkies and seals! and i think we all meed some softness and love in this trying times.

taglist: @lilredbird101 , @djstinkyfartz

wc: 2.4k

PART1 PART 3

---

To find simple kindness in life isn't as easy as people make it out to be. To give out kindness after receiving none of it is even harder.

You know what it was like to have your innocence ripped off from your hands since you were young. To have to force yourself to stand up tall against the fragile sand breaking in between your toes and keep walking anyways, despite knowing that there's nothing waiting for you at the other end of the world.

Losing your mother at a young age meant having to be comfortable in your own presence. All selkies were seals, but not all seals are selkies. And on nights where you're swimming under the moonlight with your friends, crossing borders after borders, it felt like everything is going as it's meant to be. Even if the feeling never lasted.

You're a runner, or swimmer, technically. You needed to constantly be moving to fill that emptiness in you. You'd find a place with new kinds of entertainment to satiate the deep curiosity you have for the man-folk, and then leave before you can get attached, that was your game.

But lately the thrill was disappearing. There was this feeling you just couldn't shake, the feeling that you were truly and completely alone even in a room full of people.

There was a longing for true connection, but no one to connect to. No one made sense to you. Except her.

You've been hanging around her for months now, even when she doesn't notice you, while shes doing work, getting on and off the boats with the big man and hia daughters, when she's enjoying the cold wind under moonlight while the sea is calm.

She confuses you, a woman with so much freedom, and yet she chooses to stay here instead, all alone. Why deprive yourself from real connections when you can easily obtain it? Do the other humans not satisfy her?

And so maybe your new curiosity is taking shape in this weirdly lonely and awkward woman.

You don't really know what you want, self discovery as half sea creature /half man isn't easy. But all you knew that for some reason, the waves of your heart is insistent in going her way, and so you follow in hopes that it would help you feel any other other than aching desperation to be understood.

When she picked you up and carried you inside last night, you had managed to acknowledge a few things about her. The first thing is, she's a man of action. If plan A doesn't work, she's going straight to Plan B. She didn't force you out of your silence and instead worked through it.

The second thing you learned was that she's less scarier than she looks. And the third is that you were wrong about her purposely depriving herself of human connection.

With how quickly she went for aiding you is one thing, but you could see the same kind of craving for another person in her eyes, when she caught you out of bed and rummaging through her belongings, there was more of confusion than irritation, but most importantly, there was a need to comprehend your existence.

You couldn't find your coat. It's a few hours before dawn, and she's somehow managed to fall asleep by the rocking chair downstairs. You had used the extra time you had before its time for her to wake up to quietly tiptoe around the tall tower, exploring every level and getting yourself familiar with the place.

This place is as old as it looks. The paint is peeling off the walls, and the lights flicker every few seconds, giving the tower a sense of melancholy and nostalgia.

It was just the kind of place you liked, historic but also monotonous.

Once you reached the level she was at, you silently watched over her, observing her sleeping manner as she remained unconscious. You didn't want to accidentally wake her up, so you only looked around from wher eyou stood to see if you could find your coat, but when you couldn't, you decided to go back to bed, all out of options.

What was your motive, truly? You weren't sure. You've decided that you're staying, but what angle are you going with?

You've had your fair share of experiences around humans, and in each time, you made sure to have a certain role or goal you're going in with, it saves time, and it's necessary for your own safety. The last thing you needed was some dirty sailor or pirate, locking you up against your will.

But this time, nothing is clear, not even your intentions. You see this situation as a process of trying to understand yourself through understanding her. So the end goal, should probably be some feeling of clarity, right?

It sounds silly, trying to find pieces of yourself in another woman's puzzle, but sometimes, things fit even in places they dont belong in.

—

Sevika woke up 5 minutes later than usual with a sense of urgency in her chest, which technically meant that she was still early, but that wasn't the point. Something was different today, compared to all the other repetitive and mundane days she's had.

Usually, she'd berate herself for the clumsiness as she'd have nothing else to do. But today, as soon as she woke up, you were the first thing that crossed her mind.

The peculiar girl that somehow survived the antagonising waves of the sea.

She pulled herself out of her chair and was about to make her way up to the bedroom until she saw you standing outside from the window, leaning against the railing, basking in the calm air as the sun slowly rose up.

You were checked out if reality, enjoying the morning glow as the wind blew through your hair, turning your cool skin even colder. It was a sight to behold, Sevika thought. There was no one who seemed more in her element than you at this moment.

As you seemed blind to her presence, she decided to take advantage of it and get started on breakfast. omelettes would do, at least for now. She even added an extra effort by drawing a smily face on it using soy sauce.

You entered back in while she was still preparing the food and went up to her from behind, taking a peek at Sevika's neck twisted to meet your face. "Good morning.” Sevika greeted as she placed the plates on the table.

She then beckons you to take a seat with her, and you don't hesitate to do so.

How did you sleep? She wanted to ask, but she doubted that you would answer. The speaking barrier is stressing her out. There are still some things she actually needed to figure out, were you mute or foreign. Because if you were simply unable to speak, at least she'd be relieved to know that you could understand her.

She sits opposite you and watches you ravage the omelette without a single care for her and the world, not that she'd blame you, if you've been up earlier than her. you must be starving.

You appreciate each bite like it's be your last, and Sevika views you with both awe and frustration, not knowing what to do in this situation.

It's quite a silly thought process actually, she already knew that there was nothing she could do and that you'd be stuck with her for a while, but how does she tell you that? Or do you already know and that's why you're weirdly chill? Why are you so chill? Were you still in shock?

And why is she having more trouble processing this than you were? Sure its jarring to spend months alone and then suddenly be having breakfast with a stranger who steals her bed, but Sevika has always been a rational and calculated person, so what was the issue now?

Sevika groaned, wiping a hand over her face, causing you to look up from your plate.

She caught your eye and straightened her back. "I- we need to talk." She forced the words out, not breaking eye contact.

Your eyes never strayed from hers as you feed a spoonful into your mouth. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" She asks slowly. No response.

Sevika didn't want to show her disappointment, so she decided to start with something easier. Pointing her finger to herself, she repeated her own name in a show of introducing herself. "Sevika." She repeated, still pointing to her chest.

You nodded then, shyly but surely. Sevika couldn't help but beam at you, smiling ear to ear. "Yeah? You understand me?" You nodded again.

"And you?" She asks. "Your name?" You're unresponsive again, simply staring blankly at her. Sevika tries again, pointing to herself and saying her own name. "I am Sevika." She says, then begins pointing towards herself, "You?"

She thought that you must be completely lost in your head again as your eyes squint in confusion, but then after a minute or two passed, you shook your head at her.

"No?" What does that mean? The imaginary brick wall between the two of you that she thought had been removed, has just returned.

"I'm Sevika." She repeated herself for the fourth time. "And your name is?" You shook your head at her again.

"No name?" Sevika is grasping at the end of the straws here. "You have no name, or you can't remember your name?" You went static again. Sevika sighed.

"Well, I need to call you something." She muttered under her breath. "How about this, I'll say a few names, and you nod your head at which one you like, how bout that?" Unresponsive, of course.

Here goes nothing, she thought. "Lily, Kate, Alia, Nadia, Tella, Belle-" Sevika went over a bunch of names in her head until she paused at a particular one when she saw something flashed in your eyes.

She said the name aloud and noticed your eyes widening slightly. "Is that your name?" You didn't quite agree, but you tilted your head to you and gave her a look that said "It'll do." And so for now, It'll do.

---

The phone isn't working, she had known it wouldn't. The line here have always been problematic. Sevika anxiously paces back and fourth after hanging it up, rubbing her temples in a manner that distinctly shows her frustrations.

"Well there's no safe way to send you out." She says, turning to look at you, who's comfortably on her rocking chair, playing with a strand of your hair.

"But that isn't something we don't already know." She finishes her sentence.

She halts all of her movement all of the sudden, reminded of something she'd almost forgotten to bring up. Sevika reaches further into the backroom by the kitchen and comes up with a familiar piece of clothing.

You all but jumped out of the chair, striding towards her. This was the first time you've ever reacted this strongly towards anything for all the time you've been here.

"I guess this is yours?" She asks, waving your white coat up. You nodded and extended your hand to take it from her, but just before she could, you pulled your hand back and frowned.

"What?" Sevika asks. "You don't want it?"

She watches you open your mouth briefly, as if about to say something, but the. closing it back and taking a step back.

"I'll admit, " Sevika starts. "It is quite a useless coat, very inefficient." She teases as she walks forward, taking note of how you keep moving backwards.

"What's wrong?" She asks again, genuinely worried. "You're not suddenly gaining consciousness about the realities of your condition and stranger danger, are you?"

You laughed at that, a choked, short laugh. But a laugh nonetheless. Sevika smiled despite herself.

"So you do understand me."

You sat back down at the rocking chair, leaning back and closing your eyes, completely ignoring her and the coat. Sevika confusedly hung the coat on the chair by the window, and dragged it infront of you before taking a seat.

"In all seriousness, you did understand what I've been telling you, yes?" You opened your eyes, and stared into her dark orbs.

"You're going to be stuck with me for a while, until I can find someone to help me get you back to where you came from." You responded with a single nod.

"And you do know where you come from?" You gave it a moment before nodding again. Sevika's eyes brightened. "That's good. Great, even. " She reached for a long folded paper that's pushed to the side by the closet on your right and rolled it open in front of you.

It's a map. "This is a map." She stated. You raised a brow at her, an expression that translated; "I know what a map is."

"It would give me instant relief if you could just circle where you're from, just so we can get some things clear.

She passed you a pencil and moved to give you some space, patiently waiting for you to point towards your home.

You looked through the foreign words you've somehow mastered as you travelled and found yourself in a state of hesitancy for the first time in your life.

You never knew where you were born. From the first time you opened your eyes, you had found yourself in dry land, an infant who had stuck by her mother's side, and before your mother had passed, the both of you returned into the deep blue sea, swimming through unnamed waters.

You can feel her expectancy as you raised the pencil in your arm, drawing it closer to the map. And so in the end, you dotted a big circle over the whole map, and passed it back to her in satisfaction.

"You gotta be fuckin with me." Sevika groaned, making you smile.

"You are..." A pain in the ass, you thought she'd say, "-an enigma."

Sevika rolled and dropped the map to where she got it and began walking upstairs, leaving you behind. "I got some checking to do on the lights, call me if you need me. Or don't."

Your eyes stays on her back until she disappears before they turn to your coat that's already dried up and safely hanging over the chair.

You're gonna leave it there for now, you decided. After all, you'll be here for quite some time.

#sevika x reader #sevika #arcane #arcane x reader

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tamil1984 · 2 years ago

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luveline · 2 years ago

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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬? | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you have a bad habit and miguel finds a solution —a begrudgingly in love miguel deals with his gf’s oral fixation. 1k. requested here

cw mildly mature themes/love bites. mdni

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel knew when he passed you his hand that you'd start some weird shit like this. You withhold for a while, but eventually his fingertips end up by your mouth. You brush them against your lips absent-mindedly. He knows you like the feeling, knows you draw an unconscious comfort from being able to chew on something, and he's not interested in demonising you for something you can't help.

What he can't abide is your using him like a dollar store chew toy. The second he feels your breath against his fingers, he pulls your joined hands down into the gap between your thighs on the workbench and warns, "Don't."

"Sorry, Miguel," you say, blinking back to attention.

"Can't you chew on a pencil like a normal person?"

"Sorry," you say again, not really sorry. Miguel's not really mad. "I forget that it's you."

He likes the sound of that, even if he's still disapproving. It's hard to be mad when the level of trust you have for him extends so far, the comfort he gets from your mere presence reflected in you and your lack of shame surrounding a bad habit. Miguel sighs and goes back to his sketching. You squeeze his hand twice and do the same.

If you can't bite him, you'll bite yourself. It starts with your nails and stretches to your cuticles. You've hurt yourself doing it before, and Miguel doesn't want to see you do it again. He winces at way you nibble your skin.

"Could you cut it out?" he asks.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're trying to start the next apocalypse."

"It's not hurting anyone," you insist.

"It's hurting you."

You let go of his hand to take the computer mouse, dragging and dropping a file from the first monitor onto his. He doesn't bother opening it. It's some flirtatious drivel or tech he doesn't want to deal with, undoubtedly.

"It's okay," you sing-song quietly. "You're such a worrier."

He thinks, Fine. Leaves you to your work, gets on with his own, and tries not to worry about your poor fingertips. Ten minutes become an hour, and he forgets what you'd been squabbling about, distracted by work. You drop file after file onto his screen until he gives in and opens one, finds a note drawing done with a jagged cursor of him, he assumes, frowny-faced with a bright red heart drawn around himself. The majority are the same, though the first one you sent him is Miguel with a smile, his cartoon version captioned, "secret softie :3". He puts a couple in his files and the rest in the recycling basket.

He's retrieving the ones he deleted guiltily when you hiss. He checks on you from the corner of his eye, and notices the little red line of blood building in your cuticle.

"There's actually something wrong with you."

"Ouch," you murmur, waving your finger around. "Stings."

"I told you."

"D'you have a bandaid?"

Miguel doesn't have a bandaid in the workshop. His first aid kit is half nano tech, half traditional wrap around bandages, all overkill for your surface wound. He takes pit on you and your crinkled face and pulls your hand toward eye level to inspect the damage. You've pulled the cuticle skin up toward the bed and torn skin that should be left alone, blood quick to congeal in the air. He should've just let you bite him.

"Idiot," he says, and kisses the side of your hand. "Don't do it again."

You grumble at his name calling but seem otherwise appeased. It's not long before your hand is going back to your mouth, but you must remember his demand, choosing to tuck your hands between your thighs. You squirm in your seat and can't focus on your work.

Miguel thinks, Fuck it.

"Alright, come here."

You wheel your chair closer.

"What, I have to do all the work?" he asks, holding out his arms. "Come here."

You stand and slide between the desk and his legs. His thighs are big, and your own press to the top of the desk from the lack of space. You put a hand on his arm curiously.

"Kiss me," he says.

You lean in quickly and kiss him. A tentative thing where you're usually confident laying one on him.

"What was that?" he asks.

"A kiss?"

"Kiss me properly," he says. He bracelets your elbow in a big hand, a soft touch to reassure you. "You've wanted to all day."

You have the decency to pretend (albeit weakly) that he's wrong. "Whaaaat? Who told you that?"

Miguel sighs and takes your face into his hands instead. He takes in your expression slowly, your eyes, your pupils like black dimes, lashes kissing in the outer corners as you look down to his mouth. You bite the inside of your lip and he loses it —Miguel tugs you against his chest and kisses you firmly, hand at the small of your back and pulling urgently upward in an attempt to bring you closer.

He can feel the little line from your own biting on your lips as he presses against the seam of them, and he doesn't know what he's going to do with you besides kiss you: he won't let you chew on him, no matter how nice your mouth is. He'll just have to kiss you until you can cope.

Or you could always bite him in other places.

"Wait, wait, I can't breathe," you say, pulling away.

Miguel works his fingertips under the back of your shirt, feeling the slope of bare skin there absentmindedly. "My bad. How's your compulsion?"

"Wanna play vampires?" you ask.

He laughs and leans away from you, a feigned disapproval. "Wanna play get a grip?"

"Grip on your neck?" you ask.

"How about I bite you? See how you like it."

You pull your knee up, socked foot digging into his thigh as you lay your cheek on his collar, straining up every time you want to kiss his neck. You press sweet, chaste kisses into his skin, seemingly unbothered by the pretzel-like position you've twisted yourself into.

"You act like I'm a chair."

"You told me," —kiss, kiss— "to sit here, Miguel, I don't know what you want from me." Third kiss, then a fourth.

He tamps down goosebumps and gives up. "Can you chill out while I work?"

"... I can keep kissing you?"

"Do what you like. I need to finish this net."

You lounge. Miguel struggles to keep it together, but at least you aren't biting your nails anymore.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!! if you did and you have the time, please think about reblogging <3

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afeelgoodblog · 2 years ago

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The Best News of Last Week - November 28, 2023

🐑 - Why did Fiona the sheep become a mountaineer? She was tired of the "baa-d" jokes at sea level!

1. Pope Francis dines with transgender women for Vatican luncheon

Pope Francis hosted a group of transgender women — many of whom are sex workers or migrants from Latin America — to a Vatican luncheon for the Catholic Church's "World Day of the Poor" last week.

The pontiff and the transgender women have formed a close relationship since the pope came to their aid during the COVID-19 pandemic, when they were unable to work. Now, they meet monthly for VIP visits with the pope and receive medicine, money and shampoo any day, according to The Associated Press.

2. New York just installed its first offshore wind turbine

The first wind turbine installation at South Fork Wind, New York State’s first offshore wind farm, is complete.

The 130-megawatt (MW) South Fork Wind will be the US’s first completed utility-scale wind farm in federal waters.

3. Anonymous businessman donates $800k to struggling food bank

But this Thanksgiving, a longtime prayer of food bank leaders was finally answered: an anonymous benefactor donated the full $800,000 they needed to move out of a facility they've long outgrown. That benefactor, however, preferred to stay anonymous.

"Very private company, really don't want attention," said Debbie Christian, executive director of the Auburn Food Bank. "It's a goodhearted person that just wants to see the work here continue, wants to see it expand."

4. Empowering woman saving hopes and mental health of suffering Ukrainian kids

Kenza Hadij-Brahim is at the forefront of promoting Circle of Toys

Hadj-Brahim is helping to launch the Circle of Toys initiative. A project that provides Ukrainian children in need of some normality with preloved toys. This new initiative connects people with old toys they might otherwise throw away, with Ukrainian families in need who want to provide some comfort to their children in this distressing time.

Find Refuge said : “The endeavour is driven by a sincere purpose: spark joy, foster play, and bring a hint of normalcy back to the young lives in Ukraine.”

5. TWO LOST CITIES HIDDEN FOR CENTURIES WERE JUST DISCOVERED IN BOLIVIA

Researchers have found these areas not only housed structures and pyramids but it has been uncovered that there were advanced irrigation systems, earthworks, large towns, causeways, and canals that cover miles.

Dr. Heiko Prümers from the German Archaeological Institute, who was also involved in the study comments that “this indicated a relatively dense settlement in pre-Hispanic times. Our goal was to conduct basic research and trace the settlements and life there. The research sheds light on the sheer magnitude and magnificence of the civic-ceremonial centers found buried in the forest”.

6. Sheep dubbed Fiona rescued from cliff in Scotland where she was stuck for more than 2 years

youtube

And at last, some positive climate news:

7. Three positive climate developments

Heating

When the Paris Agreement was adopted, the global reliance on fossil fuels placed the world on a path towards a 3.5C rise in temperature by 2100. Eight years on, country commitments to reduce their carbon footprints have pulled that down slightly, putting the world on a path for a 2.5C to 2.9C by the end of the century.

Peak emissions

Annual greenhouse gas emissions responsible for climate change have risen roughly nine percent since COP21, according to UN data. But the rate of the increase has slowed significantly. Recent estimates by the Climate Analytics institute find global emissions could peak by 2024

Rising renewables

Three technologies—solar, wind and electric vehicles—are largely behind the improved global warming estimates since 2015.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

#best news of last week #Youtube

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petite-anni · 29 days ago

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🌸🌿skinny lifestyle - balanced mind🌿🌸

~Being skinny is a lifestyle, not a challenge. It won’t come naturally and working hard is essential, so here are daily habits to build and to stay disciplined~

Your motivation WILL fade at some point. That’s when discipline and habits come in and you keep you in line.

1. 10k steps a day

It’s such a peaceful and efficient habit to start your day.

It helps you to stay lean, tone your body and burn some calories. Walking is low-stress, aids digestion and reduces bloating.

I love getting my steps in first thing in the morning. If that’s not possible just break it into chunks - morning, lunch break, evening walks or just whenever fits you💗

2. portion control > restriction

Labeling food as good and bad is so exhausting. The more you restrict yourself the more you tend to break your set up rules and binge.

Eat what you enjoy, just not excessively. Stay within your calories. Plan your meals.

You can use smaller plates, chew slowly, drink inbetween/before/after and avoid mindless eating in front of screens.

3. Gut Health Basic

I will die on this hill. Your gut health affects everything. Your whole body. Digestion, skin, energy and mood.

Healing your gut is essential and can you help drop weight.

Include probiotic foods: yogurt, kefir, kimchi, sauerkraut

Add prebiotics: oats, bananas, garlic, onions

Stay hydrated and reduce ultra-processed food, track what causes bloating or discomfort - everyone’s gut is different.

4. extra secret - blood sugar

Keeping my blood sugar level balanced helped me loose the last few pounds.

Eating high-sugar or fast-digesting carbs spikes your blood glucose and your insulin rushes in. Your blood sugar crashes and you will be hit with cravings, fatigue and irritability.

Stable blood sugar = fewer cravings, more energy.

When you eat balanced meals and and glucose enters your bloodstream slowly, your insulin stays in check.

= you stay full longer, crave less and burn fat more efficiently

Eating in the right order can help achieve that (first fiber, then protein/fat, then carbs)

~~Also, my recommendation would be Berberine !!

It’s a supplement working as a natural insulin-sensitizer and helps with glucose control. You’ll feel more energetic and can loose weight easily by burning fat more efficiently

~ You don’t need to cut carbs — you need to control how your body processes them.

It’s not “eat less” — it’s eat smarter ~

💗💗💗💗

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0798f · 21 days ago

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🎇 — Vacation.

RELATIONSHIP: Levi Ackerman x Reader (Modern AU)

SUMMARY: You are committed to giving Levi a stress-free vacation. Even if it puts all the stress on you, instead!

A/N: Day 3 of the Natsumeku event! Of all the fics for this event, I think I am the most proud of this one. I hope it's enjoyable!

Levi didn’t know the meaning of the word vacation.

The confusing part was that it wasn’t solely because he was too integral of an employee, nor was it because he was too dedicated to his work. Erwin and Hange had offered (the latter on their knees begging) to take on some of his responsibilities so he could take a few days off, but Levi always refused. Then he would bitch about work to their faces the next day as if he didn’t create a problem for himself.

Levi just never saw a point before. He did his job best and didn’t really have anything else he would want to do with his free time.

“Sleeping? Eating? Enjoying a nice walk in nature?” Hange had pointed these out the last time they tried begging Levi to take a break.

Levi rolled his eyes back then. “Don’t be stupid,” was all he said.

But things changed when he entered a relationship with someone who lived life a bit more normally than him. Someone who maintained their human needs a bit better than Levi.

“Four hours of sleep at most?! That’s insane! You can’t live like that!” (Name) was horrified to learn the information Levi so casually dropped in conversation as they ate a dinner together.

He didn’t think it was such a big deal. But he had to start considering that when (Name) started sleeping in his bed. Levi finally had a reason to be in bed by a reasonable time, and an even more reliable sleep aid than the melatonin gummies that he had grown immune to a thousand years ago. It was easier to fall asleep with (Name) in his bed and he didn’t know why— they didn’t even cuddle most of the time. Their simple presence next to him was more than enough, apparently.

So Levi started reeling in his more inhumane habits so (Name) could comfortably fit into his life. Hange immediately pointed out how much brighter (whatever that meant) he looked once he started getting more sleep and eating more regular meals, all at the behest of (Name) keeping him in check. Meanwhile, (Name)’s own work started to be completed with a new level of organization and efficiency with Levi’s help.

In the spirit of bettering each other’s lives, (Name) had one goal in mind as the weather warmed with the arrival of summer: get Levi to go on a vacation where he could relax to the fullest.

It wasn’t enough to just go on a vacation. It had to be a trip free of any worry or hassle, (Name) decided— and that meant keeping Levi out of the planning as much as possible.

Not entirely, of course; (Name) wanted to make a vacation he would enjoy first and foremost, and that required his opinions and choices.

“… What do you think about visiting Marley or Hizuru for a vacation?” (Name) shyly put the idea out there as Levi finished brushing his teeth. They sat against the headboard of Levi’s bed, their legs under the blanket only as far as their knees. He wiped his face off and looked at (Name) with a raised brow.

After dating for over two years, (Name) would like to think that they knew Levi as well as anyone could. But his initial silence permeated the room as they awaited an answer, and (Name) found themself growing nervous.

Levi shrugged, “sounds nice.”

Their barely concealed excitement at the positive response did not go unnoticed by Levi. (Name) grinned, “do you have a preference? I’ve heard they’re both beautiful in summer.”

They had actually been to Marley a few times on business, but those business trips always went to shit because The Warriors inc. had an irrational hatred for The Scouts. Any sightseeing was interrupted by the reveal that a few of their underlings had been feeding The Warriors insider secrets for the last few years.

For some reason, Levi had to be part of the excruciating conversations and meetings that happened afterwards. He sneered at the memory. “Hizuru.”

(Name)’s eyes sparkled. “Good choice. It just so happens that Erwin is giving us a week of PTO after we complete this project! And, Petra just expedited some of the progress, so we should definitely be done by the weekend.”

Levi had the feeling something was up when (Name) had left Erwin’s office in the morning with a smile they refused to explain to Levi. “Don’t worry about it,” (Name) said.

He had never taken a vacation (willingly) in his life, and if he was going to do it for the first time, Levi was glad that it would be with (Name). He climbed into bed next to them, leaning forwards to bump foreheads.

“‘It just so happens,’ huh?” Levi repeated, breath warm and minty against (Name)’s lips. “You’re claiming no influence?”

“I’m hardly the only person in the office who wants to see you take a break. I’m just the only person who can get you to do it!”

When (Name) started at the company, they were a shy intern who couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Now, they were smirking in Levi’s face over a silly trick made possible by all their connections. Levi was happy to see them come so far.

“When did you get so smug?” Levi guided them to lay down so that he could hover over them.

(Name) reached up to hold Levi’s face with both hands. “When I realized how much it made you smile.”

Levi smiled into the kiss.

(Name) took over the rest of the planning by that point— with some input from Hange (professional tourist) and underling Mikasa (Hizuran person who knows the local spots). As the planning progressed, it became quite an elaborate itinerary that covered all the vacation staples of sightseeing, activities, and relaxation.

Their plans were down to the minute, which, in the moment, felt like a proud success of all their hard work spent researching so Levi could relax. It also proved to be their downfall.

The first of many tragedies in their comedy of errors was their flight being delayed for two hours due to poor weather. The second was their luggage getting lost and having to spend over an hour arguing with unhelpful airport staff to get it found. The third was their taxi driver borderline kidnapping them by taking the longest possible route to their hotel to rack up the meter. At least that one was partially solved by Levi threatening to gut the driver like a fish if he took one more wrong turn.

Their hotel room had a beautiful view of the ocean, but instead of admiring it, (Name) was glued to their laminated (courtesy of improper use of company tools) itinerary, trying to make sense of it.

“Ok, we missed lunch reservations at the sushi place Hange recommended… and they’re fully booked. Fuck!” The paper trembled in (Name)’s frustrated hands as they lamented their loss. There had been more openings just a week ago— how could they all disappear?!

Levi put a hand on their back. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“I know…” But it really felt like it. Especially with how much Hange hyped it up. “It’s fine! We can go to a more local place that Mikasa recommended! … Shit, but we’re gonna miss the fireworks show if we eat now! Maybe we can do it tomorrow night instead… but, we run into the same issue with dinner reservations! If I keep pushing things back, they’ll keep causing problems!”

(Name) felt their brain fill with fog as they tried to fix the perfectly manicured plan that was quickly falling apart at the seams. It was supposed to be the perfect plan to let Levi relax, but now (Name) couldn’t even figure out what they were supposed to do next!

A firm hand grasped their chin and forced them to look up. (Name) startled at the sudden contact, meeting Levi’s resting serious expression. “Oi.”

He must have been annoyed that (Name) ruined everything by not preparing a plan B. Apologies left their lips in an instant, but Levi lifted their head higher to interrupt them. “This is a vacation and you’re losing your damn mind right now.“

“Because my plans are falling apart… I had everything figured out, but now I don’t even know what to do right now—“

Again, Levi interrupted them before they could spiral further. “Hotel’s on the beach. Let’s go.”

(Name) blinked. “Huh..?”

“Change your clothes since it’s hot out. Let’s go.”

They sniffled, reluctantly letting the itinerary fall to the wayside so they could change into a more an outfit more suited to Hizuru’s summer weather. Levi did the same, and even while (Name) was still mourning the loss of a meticulously planned vacation, they were amused to see Levi in shorts and a T-shirt. If they took a picture, the office would never let him live it down.

By the time they made it down to the beach in front of their hotel, it was late into a sunset and well after most of the crowds left. The beach was quiet outside of the crashing waves and ambient noise from the nearby bar. Levi had guided (Name) all the way to the white sands with his hand on their lower back, occasionally pulling them closer to his side when strangers passed by.

(Name) looked at the last glimmer of the sunset for the first time that day as it disappeared behind the horizon, leaving an dark orange to fade into purples and blues. They let out a deep sigh, closing their eyes and focusing on the sounds of the beach.

“First time today you don’t look so tense. The flight delay sent you on a downward spiral.” Levi’s words sounded a bit harsh, but that was just how he talked. His hand rubbing (Name)’s back let them know he was saying it out of care and affection.

Their shoulders slumped. “Can you blame me? I was trying to make a worry free vacation for you.”

“Worry free,” Levi scoffed. “You think I’m worry free when you’re on the brink of an anxiety attack every two seconds?”

(Name) whined, “see, I really messed things up! If I had just been more prepared…”

They weren’t getting his point. Levi grabbed their shoulders, forcing them to focus on him rather than their worries. “My idea of a worry free vacation, or whatever, is spending time with you, idiot. So, if you stop fixating on your itinerary for right now, then we can both relax.”

It was like a light switched on in (Name)’s head, finally understanding that they missed the forest for the trees. They cracked a weary smile. “… Are you sure? That’s really sweet…”

“It’s not sweet, it’s just the truth.”

Contrary to his word, the kiss they shared in that moment was sweet, saccharine, and full of a love and affection between them that only they understood. While (Name) occasionally referred back to the dreaded itinerary for ideas, the vacation became a lot more relaxing once they slowed down and started playing it by ear.

A relaxed Levi was much more affectionate. (Name) would have to ask for more frequent breaks.

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#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #f.snk #🎋 — fuji's work.#natsumeku.2025

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