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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months

Note

Hear me out: Bucky finding out that y/n is pregnant (again, after their first kid) with twins/triplets. After he calms down about it (for the time being), he starts calling her matryoshka (like the Russian nesting dolls)

More Than One » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom/Pregnant!Reader with son James Jr

Summary: You and Bucky find out you’re pregnant with more than one baby which makes Bucky a little more nervous.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, nicknames/pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

“Are you excited?” You asked Bucky.

“Of course I am.” Bucky smiles, putting his hand in yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’m more than excited to have another baby with the love of my life.” He says.

You smile widely and lean over to kiss his lips sweetly. The kiss is short lived when the nurse called your name. You and Bucky stood up from the chairs and walked hand and hand to the exam room.

“Is this your first pregnancy?” The OB doctor asks, trying to make conversation.

“No.” You answered. “We have a son who’s almost 2 years old.” You tell her.

The doctor smiles at you and Bucky as before she started the ultrasound.

“Let’s hear your baby’s heartbeat.” She says with a smile.

Bucky held your hand while the doctor did the ultrasound. A smile grew on your faces when you two heard the heartbeat for the first time.

“There’s our baby.” You tell Bucky.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile and kiss you.

“This is interesting.” The doctor starts. “There’s more than one heartbeat.” She informs you and Bucky.

“More than one? Meaning twins?” You asked.

“More than one as in 3 babies.” She tells you guys. “Congratulations! You’re having triplets.” She says.

“Triplets? That means 3, right?” Bucky asks, making sure he heard her right.

“Yes.” She confirms, handing you the ultrasound pictures.

Bucky’s mind was blown. He didn’t know what to think. His mind is running a million miles an hour. What he did know is that he’s beyond happy and he’s never been this nervous in his life.

“Are you ok, babe?” You asked as the two of you got in the car.

“Y-Yea.” Bucky answers without noticing his nervous stutter.

You smile and leaned over to kiss his stubbly cheek and made the drive to the Avengers Compound to pick up yours and Bucky’s 2 year old son James Jr. when you two got to the compound, you two were greeted by your son running up to you guys and Bucky picked him up. He was followed by Steve.

“How was the doctor?” Steve asks.

“Great!” You answered. “Bucky and I found out that we’re having triplets.” You tell him.

“That’s amazing! I’m happy for you guys.” He says, giving you two a hug.

Bucky said a quiet thank you. He was weirdly quiet for the rest of the day, but you didn’t question it. He was just trying to process the fact that you two are having triplets. While he was trying to process it, he decided to play with his son to help ease his nerves. At the moment Bucky and James Jr are sitting on the bedroom floor in James Jr’s room playing with blocks.

“Do you like the idea of being a big brother?” Bucky asks his son.

“Me big brother.” James Jr confirms.

“That’s right, bud. You are.” He smiles. “Do you want a little brother or little sister?” He asks.

“Brother.” He simply answers.

“You want mama to have a boy?” He asks.

James Jr nodded with a huge smile on his face. What Bucky didn’t know was that you were standing in the doorway of James Jr’s room, listening to their conversation with a smile on your face. You gave them a couple more minutes of guy time before entering the room and sat down on the rocking chair in the corner of his bedroom.

“You two sound like you’re having a nice conversation.” You say to them.

James Jr nodded and continued to play with his blocks.

“Did daddy tell you the good news?” You asked James Jr.

“Mama has a baby.” James Jr said.

“Yes I am, but there’s more than one baby in mama’s belly.” You tell him.

“More?” He asks, giving you his undivided attention.

“Yes, mama is having more than one baby. I’m having triplets.” You tell him with a smile on your face.

“Triplets?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion at the new word.

“That means there’s 3 babies in mama’s belly.” You explained.

James Jr stared at you like you just said the most interesting thing in the world. He stood up from the floor and waddled over to you.

“Babies.” James Jr says, poking your baby bump.

You and Bucky smile at his cuteness. You leaned over and kissed the top of his head. You glanced at Bucky and noticed something was off, which concerned you. You pushed it to the back of your mind and reminded yourself to ask Bucky about it later.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, soldier.” You say.

“I’ll do it.” Bucky speaks up.

You said a silent ok and allowed Bucky to do his fatherly duties of getting his son ready for bed. While Bucky was tucking James Jr in bed, he felt himself more calm down compared to how he felt earlier today, but he will admit that he’s still nervous about having triplets. Bucky said goodnight to his son and gave him a kiss on the top of his head before leaving his bedroom to go to yours and his shared bedroom and went to bed with his arms wrapped around you protectively.

The next morning, Bucky still seemed off to you. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions, but you also want to know what’s going through his head.

“Bucky?” You say softly.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Are you ok?” You asked. “You’ve been quiet most of yesterday after our doctors appointment.” You say.

“I- I’m just a little nervous is all.” He admits. “I thought we were just going to have 1 baby, but it turns out that we’re having 3 babies, which I’m thrilled about.” He says.

“To be honest…” You start. “I’m a little nervous too.” You tell him.

Bucky’s facial expressions softened when you told him that you’re nervous too.

“It’s ok to be nervous, matryoshka.” He cups your cheek. “I’m sure it’ll pass soon.” He says.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when Bucky called you matryoshka.

“Matryoshka?” You asked curiously.

“It’s Russian.” He puts his right hand on your baby bump. “You are carrying my babies after all.” He says.

“Oh ok. That makes more sense.” You say.

“Get used to it. I’m going to be calling you that throughout your pregnancy.” He says.

Bucky leaned in and kisses you sweetly. The kiss was short lived when James Jr woke up from his nap and called for Bucky from his bedroom.

“I’ll get him.” Bucky says.

Bucky stood up from the couch and went to James Jr’s room to see him sitting upright on his bed.

“Is my little man awake?” He coos as he picked him up.

James Jr giggles loudly as Bucky gave him soft kisses. Bucky smiles at the sound of his son’s giggles. He walked to the living room where you are and sat down next to you.

“There’s my baby boy.” You cooed.

James Jr happily crawled onto your lap and hugged you.

“Babies.” James Jr curiously said, pointing at your baby bump.

“That’s right.” You smile. “There’s babies in mama’s belly.” You say.

Bucky put his arm around your shoulder and moved closer to you. James Jr quickly got interested in his daddy’s vibranium arm and moved over to his lap to play with it.

“How are you feeling, matryoshka?” Bucky asks.

“Hungry.” You answered. “I have to feed 4 people now.” You say.

“I’ll get you something to eat from your favorite restaurant.” Bucky says.

He stood up and gently placed James Jr on the couch next to you.

“Keep an eye on mama for me, soldier.” He says.

“Me watch mama.” James Jr confirms, making you and Bucky smile.

Bucky gave you two kisses before leaving to get you guys something to eat. You put cartoons on the TV to entertain him. He quickly got occupied with the toys he has in a container next to the TV. He grabbed a few and got back on the couch next to you. He handed you one of his toys, wanting you to play with him. You maneuvered yourself so you can face your son.

“Are you going to play with your little brothers or sisters when they’re born?” You asked him.

James Jr nodded his head yes with a smile on his face. He then put a stuffed animal on your lap in front of your baby bump.

“Play.” James Jr says, referring to his triplet siblings in your belly.

“That can’t play yet, sweetie. They have to be born first and they’re not ready to play just yet.” You tell him.

James Jr sat there with a pout on his face.

“Mama and daddy will play with you until then.” You say.

You and James Jr played until Bucky got home with the food. He put the food on the kitchen counter and went to the living room to see his two favorite people playing and watching cartoons.

“What’re you two playing?” Bucky asks, taking a seat behind you.

“Superheroes.” James Jr answers. “Like daddy.” He says.

Bucky smiles widely when his son basically called him a superhero.

“I hate to interrupt playtime, but it’s time to eat, buddy.” You say to him.

James Jr listened and put his toys down and patiently waited for you or Bucky to get him his food. Bucky stood up and helped you stand up.

“I love you, matryoshka.” Bucky says, pecking your lips.

“I love you too, Buck.” You say, kissing him back.

“I wuv mama and daddy!” James Jr chimes in, making you two smile at his cuteness.

“We love you too, little soldier.” You and Bucky say in unison and gave him kisses.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

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formula-nyoom · 3 months

Text

Grid Dads

Summary: The Grid Dads, their Grid Kids, and their first F1 win

Sequel to Grid Kids

A/N: So originally the plan was for this fic to be told in the perspectives of the Grid Dads, but then I mainly focused on the section of Logan winning his first race and this just ended up turning into the Grid Kids winning their first F1 races and their Grid Dads being there to support them. Tried to keep the reader gender neutral for this one, though I apologize if a “she” or “her” slipped in. Logan’s is the longest because it’s the first one I wrote and I wanted to avoid repetition so Oscar’s and (Y/N)’s sections are a bit shorter. If you want to read just (Y/N)'s section, it's the last one.

Oscar

Triple header race weekends were never easy. The constant back to back of race weekends where there never seemed to be a time to breathe always hit heavy on the drivers.

And yet in the middle of it, Oscar was driving like it was the best race weekend of his life. Topping all three Free Practice Sessions, Oscar felt like Austria was going to be the best race this season.

And then he gets pole in qualifying for the first time.

Now, getting pole should be another good thing to add to Oscar’s already phenomenal weekend. But as the race drew closer and closer, Oscar felt like expectations were getting higher and higher. Everyone is expecting him to win, and while that is always Oscar’s goal during races, the high expectations were not helping his nerves.

“Are you nervous?” Mark asked him as Oscar was getting ready in his driver’s room.

“Yea…I’m starting on pole for the first time, why wouldn’t I be nervous?” Oscar said as he tied his shoes.

“I didn’t say you had to be. It’s ok to be nervous.” Mark said. “You’ve got a real shot at winning this race.”

“Unless someone passes me. Which is inevitable.” Oscar said. Mark stood up and placed his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, getting the younger driver to look at him.

“Then don’t let them pass you.” Mark said. Oscar scoffed.

“Is that the only advice you have for me?”

“It’s the only advice you need.” Mark said, patting Oscar’s shoulder before leaving the driver’s room. Oscar watched him go with confusion. He did expect Mark to give him a bit more advice, but then again Mark was always confident in Oscar’s abilities when he was on track.

Rolling into the P1 spot after the formation lap, Oscar took a breath and glanced to his right to see the scarlet Ferrari of Charles in P2. While McLaren have been able to keep pace with Ferrari throughout the season, it was unsure of who could be quickest on the start. Oscar didn’t need to be told that it had to be him, Oscar knew that. He also knew that if Charles passed him at the beginning, he had the potential of overtaking him later in the race as long as he kept pace.

“Don’t let them pass you.”

Oscar wasn’t going to let Charles get the upper hand.

Lights out and Oscar’s foot was on the pedal at lighting speed. He was able to pull ahead of Charles, but the Monagas driver stayed close to Oscar all the way into the first turn. Charles almost pulled ahead of him in turn 4 and 5, but Oscar was able to defend against him and when the first lap was finally over, Oscar managed to build a one second gap between him and Charles.

Oscar stayed in first for about 20 laps but his tires were starting to wear down and Oscar knew that if he pitted now with only a 6 second gap between him and Charles, he would lose the lead. Oscar would either need to build up a big enough gap on his wearing tires for him to be able to pitstop without losing P1…or a red flag needed to happen so his tires could get changed with no consequence of a time loss. But a red flag seemed almost impossible. Oscar started discussing with his engineer the possibilities of even a yellow flag happening so the time loss wouldn’t be significant, when his engineer’s voice came over the radio with exactly what Oscar needed to hear.

“Red Flag! Red Flag!” His engineer said. “Come to the pits. There is a car turned over in the middle of the track.”

“Are they ok?” Oscar asked. While the red flag was exactly what Oscar needed to keep his P1, it wasn’t something Oscar was wishing or hoping for, as red flagged crashes are serious matters. All Oscar was grateful for was that he was able to pit and change tires without losing his position, and he hoped that whoever was involved with the crash was ok.

But the race was going to have to be restarted. Which means it would give others the chance to pass Oscar going into the restart.

“You’re driving great out there.” Mark told him while everyone was waiting for the track to be cleared.

“Yea, but now I have to do it all over again.” Oscar said.

“You know what to do.” Mark said, patting Oscar’s shoulder.

‘Don’t let them pass.’

Oscar could do that.

A sense of deja vu hit Oscar as he watched Charles pull into the P2 spot next to him. The Ferrari driver somehow was able to maintain his position like Oscar had, and Oscar was going to have to do everything to make sure Charles stayed in P2.

The lights went on again

And then they were off. And so was Oscar and Charles.

Charles managed to get a bit of a jump on Oscar at the restart, with the two going side by side into turn one. But Charles ended up breaking late and Oscar was able to pull ahead, still in the lead.

Still in P1.

‘Don’t let them pass.’

And that’s what Oscar did. Everytime Charles tried to overtake, Oscar defended like his life depended on it while maintaining his speed. How he was able to stay calm and keep the Ferrari at bay, Oscar may not fully know. But Oscar was eventually able to see the checkered flag waving. And as he blocked Charles from overtaking him as they made it to the last corner, Oscar’s foot didn’t leave the pedal till he crossed that finish line.

“FROM POLE TO P1! OSCAR PIASTRI HAS WON THE AUSTRIAN GRAND PRIX!”

“You, Oscar Piastri, are a race winner! Congratulations!” Oscar’s race engineer said to him over the radio.

“Woooooo! What a race. That was a tough one, keeping pole the whole race. Wow.” Oscar said as he did his cool down lap and waved to the crowds as he passed by.

He pulled into the P1 spot and took his time undoing his steering wheel before he stood up and climbed on to the nose of his car. The McLaren crew at the barriers cheered as Oscar raised his fist in the air. Oscar jumped down from the car and was met with the sight of Charles who raised his hand up for a high five.

“Another Leclerc 1-2! You fought me hard for that win.” Charles said, bringing Oscar in for a brief hug.

“I was so worried about messing up. I couldn’t let you get by.” Oscar said. Charles laughed.

Oscar then turned his attention to the McLaren team at the barriers. Oscar ran over and jumped into their arms, receiving various pats and high fives. As Oscar pulled away, he saw Mark there, standing at the barriers with the McLaren team. Oscar went over and Mark pulled him in for a hug.

“What did I tell you?” Mark said as he hugged Oscar.

“Don’t let them pass.”

“And what did you do?”

“I didn’t let them pass.” Oscar said as he smiled.

“It was good advice if I do say so myself.” Mark said. Oscar rolled his eyes.

“I’ll make sure to come to you for more advice the next time I’m on pole.”

Logan

“Welcome back to Sky Sports. I’m Jenson Button, joined by one of my co-hosts Bernie Collins, and a welcome surprise: Nico Rosberg, who I usually don’t get to do this with.”

“Yes, it's very rare that Jenson and I get to host together.” Nico said. “But since I’m commentating the race this Sunday, I thought I’d fill in for one of your other co-hosts and spice things up.”

“I’m sure things will get spiced up this weekend as it is the United States Grand Prix!” Bernie said.

“Now there’s been an interesting development in the standings from the last couple races.” Nico said.

“Yea. There’s still a championship fight between Redbull, Ferrari, and McLaren. But the bottom field has had a sudden shift with Williams seeming to be closer points wise to Aston Martin and RB than they are to Alpine and KickSauber.” Bernie said.

“It will be interesting to see what the teams…” Jenson’s sentence trailed off as his attention was drawn to what was going on behind him. 10 feet away and in view of the cameras, the young F1 drivers, Logan and (Y/N) were making funny faces or giving Jenson bunny ears. Jenson chuckled.

“Well it seems we’ve got a couple of trouble makers standing behind us. Sargent and (L/N) are photo bombing us.” Jenson said. Logan and (Y/N) burst out laughing at the act of them being caught. Jenson smiled, seeing the two young drivers finding amusement. He waved them over and their expressions morphed into partial guilt.

“Since the two of you are so keen to be on camera, do you two have any thoughts about the upcoming race? It’s a home race for you, Logan. Are you feeling confident?” Jenson asked, leaning his microphone towards Logan.

“Yea I’m feeling confident. I got my first point in Formula One here last year, though it was due to the disqualification of other drivers. I’m hoping that I can earn points properly this time and doing so at a home race would make it even better.” Logan said.

“I think he actually has a chance of getting a podium this weekend but he doesn’t believe me.” (Y/N) said. Nico scoffed

“You discount yourself too early, Logan.” Nico said. “Before we went on air, Jenson informed me of all the progress you’ve made throughout the season.”

“Really?” Logan asked, looking at Jenson with a bit of disbelief.

“I told him nothing but the truth.” Jenson said. “You’ve been making steady progress throughout the season, You scored your first points this season in Silverstone, and have been matching Alex’s pace with both of you scoring points for Williams in the last couple races. You’ve really been growing as a driver.”

Logan smiled. Sure, the Williams team has told him stuff like this, but it coming from Jenson felt sincere and genuine.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you guys have confidence in me. I’m gonna try my best this weekend. Maybe keep my elbows out, sorry (Y/N).” Logan said. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Keep your elbows away from me, I’m gonna have to fight you for that podium.” (Y/N) said.

“Well we look forward to hopefully seeing that podium fight.” Bernie said. “We won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure your teams are waiting for you.”

“Sorry for interrupting your very important business of photo bombing us.” Jenson said.

“It was Logan’s idea.” (Y/N) said before she and Logan waved goodbye to Jenson, Nico, and Bernie before heading off.

“I’d like to see Logan on a podium. I think he could do it.” Jenson said.

“We’ve seen that when given the right car, he can really bring the points home. Everytime he gets an upgrade, his pace improves and luckily for him, Williams has brought the upgrades for this weekend.” Nico said.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see when the cars get going on the track.” Bernie said.

~~~

Logan took a deep breath as he slotted his car into the P9 spot and waited for the lights to go out. To say he was nervous was an understatement. This had been his best weekend overall this season with Logan being in the top ten for all three practice sessions and making it to Q3. But Logan’s done this dance before and he expects the other shoe to drop at any moment to ruin his so far amazing weekend.

“Radio check, Logan.” The voice of Gaten, his race engineer, resonates through his ear and brings him back into focus.

“Do you think Nico or Jenson are going to conduct the post race interviews?” Logan asked.

“Let’s get you on the podium to find out. I believe you can make it Logan.” Gaten told him. Logan didn’t smile but he felt his nerves lessen a bit knowing at least someone believed in him.

*Blink* *Blink* *Blink* *Blink* *Blink*

Logan breathed.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

He wasn’t quick enough on the pedal and fell down to 11th in the first corner. Logan went into defensive mode to try and keep that position but on lap 12, his team gave him a crucial call.

“Box Box.”

“Sargent is the first to pit. Is there an issue with the car or is this Williams trying to strategize with their tires?” Crofty said from the commentary box.

“Pitting now puts Logan at the back of the grid. Seems Williams may be favoring Albon in this race.”

“Actually, if Logan is putting on the hard tires then Williams must think that he can go to the end because pitting now would give Sargent a massive advantage for when the other teams pit.” Nico said.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see if this gamble will work in the American’s favor.”

The pitstop did put Logan into last place. There was no time to doubt or think about how many overtakes he needed to make to get back into point scoring position as Logan focused on going forward and keeping the car on track.

He managed two overtakes before a collision happened.

“MAGNUSSEN AND ALBON MAKE CONTACT! BOTH OF THEM SPIN OUT AND INTO THE BARRIERS! ”

“His tyres locked up and he just couldn’t keep it together. That’s gonna be a safety car for sure.”

“Here we can see William’s strategy of pitting Sargent first and putting him on the hard was a good move. We can see that most of the other drivers are heading into the pit under the safety car, and this shoots Logan up from P18 to P10.” Nico commentated

“Safety Car. Magnussen and Alex made contact. Alex is out of the race. You are currently P10 with other drivers making pit stops now.” Gaten said over the radio.

“Is Alex ok?” Logan asked as he slowed his speed for the safety car.

“Alex is ok. We need to focus on the race. You are in the points now with some of the drivers in front having yet to pit and are on old tires.” Gaten told him.

The drivers who had yet to pit, did move into the pitlane, moving Logan up to P6. After a couple more laps, the safety car was called in and the flags switched from yellow to green.

“Let’s do some overtaking.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice as he started gaining on the car in front of him.

“Stroll .05 seconds in front. You have DRS. Go push.” Gaten told him.

“As we follow the Williams of Logan Sargent into Sector 2, he’s gaining on Lance Stroll. He goes for the outside AND OVERTAKES HIM AS SARGENT MOVES UP INTO P5!” Crofty exclaimed.

“That was a clean overtake. Lance didn’t even have the time to fight him.” Nico said.

“Good job. Let’s do that again at least two more times.” Gaten told Logan.

“Understood.” Logan knew that Gaten was intentionally not telling him what position he was in to not stress him out. But Logan could guess where he was in terms of current placement.

A couple laps later he was able to overtake Hamilton going into Turn 1, something Logan couldn’t help but smile at. He had just overtaken a 7 Time World Champion. That alone could have made Logan’s whole race. But now the question was, could he overtake another World Champion?

“Verstappen .08 seconds ahead. Push.”

Logan had never found himself in this position. The only time he saw Max’s rear wing was when he was letting him by to lap him.

But now…now he had an attempt at a genuine overtake on the man everyone always says wins.

“Sargent’s behind Verstappen! He’s within DRS range! Is he going to overtake the championship leader? Sargent goes to the outside, Verstappen follows and as they get into turn six, is the Williams going to make it past?”

Logan tried to go from the outside to the inside of the turn but he wasn’t quick enough as he pulled behind Max again. But as both of them turned into Sector 2, Logan knew he would have another chance.

“They’re going down the straight! Sargent’s again within DRS range! Is he going to be successful this time? He dives to the outside!”

Logan’s foot felt like it was glued to the gas pedal as his car drove right next to the Red Bull. engaging the DRS, Logan used that extra boost as his car sped past Max.

“SARGENT OVERTAKES VERSTAPPEN! I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Crofty exclaimed.

“Logan really treated Max like he was just another car to overtake, but I’m sure that boy is celebrating at the fact he just overtook both Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton.” Nico said, a smile on his face.

“Excellent job Logan. You are currently P3 with (L/N) in front of you. The margin between you two is 1.5 seconds. Let’s close that gap.” Gaten said.

“Copy. I did tell them I would keep my elbows out.” Logan said, a smile ghosting over his face for a brief moment.

“I’m glad to hear that Logan is enjoying this race. This really has been one of his best races.” Nico said.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Nico.”

Logan was soon able to close the gap and got within DRS range of (Y/N). (Y/N) seemed more focused on making it past the corner, they didn’t see Logan until he was already past and speeding away.

“You’re doing amazing Logan. Piastri’s ahead with a 5 second gap. Let’s start trying to gain on him. 15 laps to go.” Gaten told him.

Though Logan didn’t need to wait long to try and catch up to Oscar.

“There’s a yellow flag in Turn 12 and we can see that Ocon has hit the wall. He’s not in a good spot and that will surely bring out another safety car.”

Logan had never been more thankful for a Safety Car as his and Oscar’s cars slowed down and Logan could see his best friend's rear wing clearly. He knew that a restart was imminent, this race wasn’t going to be finished under a safety car.

Logan actually had a chance at winning this race.

“Safety Car is coming in this lap. You will have the chance to attempt an overtake on Piastri, with (L/N) behind you.”

“Copy.” Was all Logan said. He couldn’t tell if his hands were shaking from nerves or the vibrations from the car. This was the highest he had ever gone during a Formula One race. Throughout the season, Logan was starting to believe that a win for him wasn’t possible. Yet as he stared at the rear wing of the Mclaren in front of him, Logan could almost feel the glory of a first place finish in his hands.

“The Safety Car comes in as the cars on track make their way to the start line…”

Oscar hits the gas.

Logan hits it faster.

Suddenly the Williams and the Mclaren are right next to each other–two best friends fighting for first place. Logan dives to the outside of Oscar’s car as they approach the turn…

“SARGENT OVERTAKES PIASTRI AND IS NOW IN THE LEAD!” Crofty exclaimed. A smile formed on Nico’s face as he watched the Williams car driven by Logan speed away from the Mclaren. The cheers from the crowd even reach the commentary box.

“What a brilliant overtake from Sargent. He made sure to really hit the gas on the restart so that he could bring himself close enough to Piastri for that overtake.” Nico said.

“With ten laps to go, let’s see if he can keep that lead.”

Logan tries his hardest to keep it together and keep the car on track. Anything can happen in a Formula One race. Knowing his luck, Logan is constantly expecting his tires to lock up, or for him to lose control of the steering and spin out as the laps tick down.

“Last Lap. Bring it home Logan.”

But reality sets in.

He just needs to make it past the finish line.

“If you don’t mind Crofty, I'd like to do the victory narration.” Nico said, his eyes glued to the Williams car he had been following throughout the whole race. The whole reason his smile has stayed on his face.

“Go right ahead Nico.” Crofty said. Nico took a breath.

“As he starts his final lap, we see the Williams car of Logan Sargent speeding by. After his car was taken away in Australia, he has been trying to prove himself to the team, to everyone, who said he had no place in Formula One. And I can say for certain that throughout this race, Logan has proven himself. He has shown Williams and everyone that he has gotten what it takes to be in Formula One, as he comes around the last corner. He got one point at this track last year and now he’s going for the win. The young man from Florida, the first American in Formula One in 8 years, has fought his way from the bottom, all the way to the top as LOGAN SARGENT WINS THE UNITED STATES GRAND PRIX!”

Nico’s smile grows as wide as it can go, as he watches the blue number 2 car cross the finish line. He sees Logan wave his fist in the air, celebrating his victory and Nico can practically hear the scream that the American driver must be letting out right now. He puts his microphone down, not caring that there’s still commentary that he needs to do as he leaves the commentary box. Nico wants to be there for Logan and see him stand on the top step of the podium.

“You did it mate! You won!” Gaten says over the radio. Logan can barely hear it over the sound of him screaming and the cheers from the audience.

“YESSSSSSS! COME ON! OH MY GOD!” Logan yells. He can feel tears start to well up in his eyes but blinks them away as he makes his way to Parc Ferme so he can park his car in the #1 spot.

Getting there, Logan sat in the car for a moment, taking in the moment that he had just won his first Formula 1 race. He closes his eyes and breathes.

“I did it.” He says to himself, before standing up.

He stands on the nose of his car, tucking his arms into him before spreading them out, like an eagle spreading his wings. He hadn’t been able to do this since F2. God did he miss this feeling.

As soon as he steps down from the car, he’s getting tackled from both sides. Oscar to his right, and (Y/N) to his left. This winning feeling felt even better at the fact that he got to share the podium with his two best friends.

“Congrats mate! That was a hard earned win.” Oscar says, patting his back.

“I told you you’d get a podium.” (Y/N) says, putting both hands on the side of Logan’s helmet and shaking him a bit. Logan laughs before batting his friend’s arms away.

He dives into the waiting arms of the William’s team, who hold him and pat his helmet like he just won the World Championship. In a way, Logan feels like he has.

There’s a couple more pats and shakes before a steward is directing him to a spot for the post interview and Logan’s smile grows wider as he sees Jenson’s the one to do it. Jenson wraps Logan in a big hug, one hand cradling his head close to his own and Logan can’t help but let a tear roll down his face.

“You were flying out their champ.” Jenson whispers into his ear before he has to pull away and Logan is handed a microphone.

“Logan…take it all in. You’ve just won your first Formula One race. How are you feeling?”

“It’s unreal, Jenson. That was a very nerve wracking race with the amount of overtakes I had to do. Throughout the week, I honestly didn’t expect that I would be winning this one.”

“I was on the edge of my seat the whole race. I felt like a proud dad watching you overtake both Hamilton and Verstappen.”

“You did say that you had hoped to see me on the podium. Glad I could live up to your expectations.” Logan said.

“You’ve done more than that, Logan. You’ve truly proven yourself as a Formula One driver. Soak it in, champ. You’re a Formula One race winner.” Jenson said. Logan can only nod and laugh as he takes it all in.

Yea, he’s a Formula One race winner.

Jenson knows that he shouldn’t, considering they’re on live television, but he can’t help but pull Logan in for one more hug before the next interview starts. Logan seems to hold on for a bit longer and Jenson would have given him all the time in the world to stay in this hug. But they have to pull away as Logan heads to the cool down room and Oscar takes Logan’s place to be interviewed.

Logan can still feel the adrenaline and he doesn’t think it’s going to calm down anytime soon. He jumps as someone’s hands land on his shoulders and Alex is suddenly behind him, shaking his shoulders before coming around to the front and giving him a big hug.

“You just needed to prove yourself and you did! That’s my teammate!” Alex said. Logan laughs. As soon as Alex breaks the hug and steps away, George is right in front of him, pulling him into his own hug before lifting him up into the air. Logan can’t help but hold on tighter as his feet leave the ground.

“I knew you could do it, Logs.” He says. Logan lets out a laugh as he’s placed back down on the ground.

“Thanks guys. I truly don’t know how I made it to the end.” Logan said.

“Rubbish. You made it to the end because you are a phenomenal driver.” George said, pointing a finger at Logan before patting his shoulder.

Before he walks out to the podium, someone hands him an American flag that he drapes across his shoulders. When he first joined Formula One, to Logan the American flag felt heavy, like he was carrying the country on his shoulders.

Now, Logan felt like he was flying.

“In 1st Place…Williams Driver: Logan Sargent!”

He takes his place on the top step of the podium and looks out into the crowd. Amongst the sea of Blue, White, and Orange, Logan’s eyes land on Jenson with Nico standing right next to him. They’re smiling at him with nothing but proudness in their eyes at the fact that their grid kid won his first race.

And to Logan, their smiles are the only ones that matter.

(Y/N)

It was the weekend of the Belgium Grand Prix and instead of being in the team garage, (Y/N) was standing at the VIP entrance, watching everyone that entered. Were there countless rumors going around that Sebastian Vettel would attend this race? Yes. Were they confirmed? Not really. Did (Y/N) believe them? If it meant the young driver could see their grid dad, then yes. That was the whole reason (Y/N) was at the VIP entrance, looking for any sight of the German World Champion. But it was getting too close to Free Practice for (Y/N) to stay, and thinking the rumors were false, (Y/N) turned around to head to their team’s garage.

“Off to go racing, honey bee?”

(Y/N) turned back around so quickly, they almost got whiplash. Standing there was Sebastian with a VIP badge around his neck.

“Seb!” (Y/N) exclaimed as they ran to the retired German driver and engulfed him in a hug. Seb chuckled as he returned the hug.

“I was starting to think that you weren’t coming.” (Y/N) said as they broke away from the hug.

“And miss you racing? That’s ridiculous.” Seb said. Someone next to Seb cleared their throat and (Y/N)’s eyes widened.

“Kimi!” (Y/N) immediately wrapped the Finnish driver in a hug, like they did with Seb. Kimi stumbled a bit but did return the hug.

To others, having two former world champions at a Formula One race is a welcoming sight with not much meaning. But to (Y/N), having their former mentor and grid dad here to watch them race meant the whole world.

“You came…” (Y/N) said to the two, voice wavering a bit still in disbelief.

“You called.” Kimi said. (Y/N) smiled.

“Why don’t you show us around the paddock. I’m sure it’s changed since we’ve last been here.” Seb said. (Y/N)’s face lit up as they eagerly grabbed both Seb and Kimi’s hand to start showing them around the paddock

~~~

Seb enjoyed being back at a Formula One race. Being surrounded by the same chaos he once knew gave him a sort of comforting feeling that stayed all the way to race day. And while Kimi wanted to stay in the VIP room to avoid all the crowds and cameras, Seb was down on the grid with all the other celebrities and reporters, walking along the starting grid before the race officially started. He was only able to speak with (Y/N) briefly before their engineer pulled them into a last minute strategy talk. So Seb walked the grid, saying hello to other drivers and previous colleagues as he walked past.

“Look it’s It's former World Champion, Sebastian Vettel.” Sky Sports Reporter Martin Brundle approached Seb during his pre-race grid walk. “How are you Sebastian?”

“I'm doing great Martin. How are you?” Seb asked.

“I’m doing well. It’s good to see you back at a race.” Martin said. “Are you rooting for any team in particular?”

“I'm here to support my grid kid.” Seb said with a smile.

“I’m sure the Ferrari garage is happy to have you back.” Martin said. Seb let out a chuckle and shook his head.

“I’m here to support my other grid kid, (Y/N).”

“Do you think they’ll do well today?” Martin asked. Seb smiled.

“I don’t doubt it. No matter what happens I’ll be rooting for them all the way.” Seb said.

After the national anthem was played, Seb was able to pull (Y/N) aside for a brief moment.

“Good luck. Be safe. Kimi and I will be watching from the VIP room.” Seb said before (Y/N) had to get in the car. He clipped the straps of their helmet, “Remember: Fight like a bull.”

“And sting like a bee!” (Y/N) said with a smile Seb could see peak out from the visor.

“That’s right!” The two high fived and Seb ruffled (Y/N)’s helmet as if ruffling the driver’s hair, before leaving to join Kimi in the VIP room.

Watching the race seemed more stressful to Seb than if he was the one driving it. He tenses anytime (Y/N) gets close to making contact with other cars or anytime they experience oversteering. But he cheers alongside Kimi after every successful overtake.

“(L/N) goes to the outside of Alonso into turn six! Are they going to make it past the Aston Martin? Going into the straight, (L/N)’s within DRS, they pull ahead and (L/N) speeds past as the younger generation leaves the older one in the dust!” Crofty narrates and Seb and Kimi cheer.

“(Y/N)’s got the pace to make it to first.” Seb said. Kimi only nodded as two mens’ eyes stayed glued to the screen. And Seb was right. Soon enough (Y/N)’s car was in P2 with only a 1 second gap between her and Carlos, who was P1. Seb and Kimi watched as the gap got smaller and smaller till (Y/N) was right behind the Ferrari.

“Come on (Y/N)...” Kimi mumbled. The sound in the VIP room seemed to deafen as (Y/N) attempted an overtake on Carlos. The two cars go into the turn right next to each other, wheels centimeters from touching.

(Y/N) pulls out of the turn ahead of Carlos and speeds off to take the lead.

“(Y/N) (L/N) is the new race leader!” Seb and Kimi erupted into applause as their grid kid took the P1 spot. But that didn’t make the stress go away, as there were still a couple more laps to go.

“Come on honey bee, bring it home.” Seb said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. And that’s what (Y/N) did. The gap they had built was enough that no car could catch up to them in the final lap. And as they crossed the finish line, Seb and Kimi cheered and applauded so loud, they were sure (Y/N) would be able to hear it from the track.

“(Y/N) (L/N) WINS THE BELGIUM GRAND PRIX!”

“P1! You are P1, (Y/N)! Congratulations.” (Y/N)’s race engineer said in their ear as (Y/N) almost burst into tears.

“YEEEEESSSSS! LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO!” They yelled. They waved to the fans in the grandstands as they slowly did their cool down lap while trying to wipe tears from their eyes.

They eventually pulled their car into parc ferme and parked their car in front of the #1 board. Getting out of the car, (Y/N) beat their chest twice in celebration as they stood on the nose of the car before jumping down and running to their team, who gave congratulatory pats on the head and shoulders.

After the post race interview, (Y/N) started to make her way to the cool down room, passing other drivers along the way who gave their own congratulations to the driver.

“Congratulations, niño/a.” Fernando said as he pulled (Y/N) into a side hug. “I almost had you on that overtake.”

“Sorry that I had to pass you to be able to win.”

“Don’t apologize. Though if you keep winning, I may have to retire.” Fernando said. (Y/N) laughed and shook their head.

“Everyone knows that you’re going to be racing well into 2046 ‘Nando’.” (Y/N) said. Fernando chuckled and patted their shoulder one more time before leaving to meet with his team.

The race winning high was something (Y/N) didn’t want to come down from. As they kept making their way to the cool down room, (Y/N)’s smile continued to grow as their win felt more and more real.

And then there’s Seb and Kimi, waiting for them at the end. (Y/N) didn’t waste any time as they threw themselves into Seb’s arms and gave him a big hug.

“Congratulations, honeybee.” Seb whispered into their ear. “You’re a Formula One race winner.”

“I feel like I’m dreaming.” (Y/N) said as they pulled away from Seb and turned to Kimi.

Kimi didn’t say anything as he patted (Y/N)’s shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. That was ok. (Y/N) didn’t need him to say anything as she turned the side hug into a full one.

“Does this prove that you have to come to more than one race every season? I’m always close to winning when you’re here, Seb.” (Y/N) said.

“Actually, I think this proves that Kimi has to come to your races more often, as you always win when Kimi’s here.” Seb said, patting his friend on the shoulder. Kimi only smiled.

#formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #sebastian vettel x reader #kimi raikkonen x reader #logan sargeant #oscar piastri

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takes1 · 4 months

Text

p.2 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this is gonna get so fucking good ya'll i love thisss!! it's fun writing this sweet guy be a little dirty lmao

warnings. nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / build-up to more smut / phone sex / mutual masturbation / blue balls / suggestive conversation / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / long-mid distance issues / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 2.3k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part three here. final part here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

Your pencil twirled, tap-tap-tapping against your half-filled page of notes as you searched for the next header to copy for this dreadful, draining history class.

Anything to distract you from the fact that he hadn't called you.

The game was Tuesday- now it was Friday evening, and still, no word from him. Maybe you had something in your teeth when you spoke to him, or you smelled bad, or he just didn't like your hair. You had dedicated hours trying to figure it out.

A phone call was hard evidence he was interested in you. Practically a 'yes' to your fantasies, which had only gotten more unhinged with the hurt of this perceived rejection.

He still remained just a few minutes worth of your real energy on some ordinary day. But God, how you mourned for what could've been. How he would've filled you up, wrecking you with the satisfaction and excitement you yearned for.

buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz.

The sound initially deepened your already lackluster mood, because you learned to be disappointed with every call that wasn't from a Miyagi area code.

You were grateful that your eyes happened to glaze over the screen before you completed the swipe to ignore it.

A piercing scream of delight filled your entire house through a cracked bedroom door.

Tetsuro's unwanted, grating voice across the hall shattered your elevated state of bliss:

"SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!"

You took a deep breath on the fifth ring and, shaking off the nerves by standing up out of your swivel chair, you swiped across the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this (Y/n)?" A deep, rumbly voice made your knees weak.

"Y-es," Your voice cracked, tummy tingly, "Is this- Asahi?"

His name left your lips so well. You fell onto your back on your bed, pressing your thighs together at the sound of his reply.

"Yeah, that's me."

You hadn't heard his voice before, thinking hard about it now, because he didn't say anything to you in person.

"I thought you wouldn't call," You bit your lip in restraint, but kept the tension in your belly, "Why'd you keep me waiting for so long?"

A grumbly sigh on the other end gave you a full-body shiver. You crossed your legs.

"I was nervous," He admitted.

The giant did have a heart, after all. Curious, you smiled and looked up.

Your face fell.

"Get out of my room!" You shouted at Tetsuro, who was lingering in the doorway.

"How long have you been in here?!"

"I'm not in your room," He tested you by putting a foot inside, and didn't answer your question, instead pressing his own, "Who the hell are you talking to?"

It reminded you: A quick 'Hold on' and what you thought was the mute button--

You scrambled across your bed to the doorway to close it, but he dove out of the way and you ended up shutting him in. You flung it open again.

"Get out!!"

The demon-spawn was making for your phone, so you leaped onto his back and weighed him down to the floor instead.

"It better not be--," He grunted with effort as he shoved you off by the face, "Some country-bumpkin prick!"

There was no contact on the screen, so he couldn't be sure who you were talking to even with your phone in his hand.

"Who is this?" He interrogated, his torso leaning on your bed, his knee on your chest to keep you down.

You punched his leg over, over, and over again. He swatted at you while looking at your phone to figure out why nobody was responding to him.

It gave you the opportunity to push him off while his balance was uneven. You slapped your phone out of his hand and it clattered to the floor.

There was a violent hush over the two of you.

Tetsuro rose of his own accord, dodging a slap, and kicked your phone far under your bed with a grumble.

"Like I'm gonna just let that happen."

The door slammed behind him. You skittered up, opened it, then called after him, "Stay out!!"

You made sure to lock and barricade it this time.

When you leaned down to find your phone, it was impossible to reach with your hands or legs from either side of the bed. That asshole had made sure to kick it just far enough to make you get creative.

You had to tie together a ruler and a clothing hanger to retrieve it, then use your foot to leverage it out.

To your relief, the call was still active. But it wasn't muted.

Heart sunk halfway down your ribcage, you asked a grim question, "How much of that did you hear?"

His chuckle lifted your spirits instantly.

Almost as a conditioned response, you glanced to the door. It was still secure.

"I'm so sorry, my brother is the worst." You grumbled, climbing back into your bed with a sore face, hand, and knee.

Asahi's tone was clear and smooth.

"It sounds like he just wants to keep you out of trouble."

Your body jumpstarted again at that word. You wanted all the trouble he had to offer. You couldn't help but giggle, since his response sounded as if he was referring to himself.

"I know how to handle myself," You grinned, "I'm only a year younger than him."

"He's a senior, isn't he?"

"Mhm."

"So you're a second-year."

"Mhmm," You could listen to him talk all day. Your hand rubbed over your prickled chest, savoring his voice against your ear.

"Good. I feel like less of a creep, now."

In his admission you could hear his lips curl into a smile- your covered your mouth and kicked your legs in the air.

"Don't tell me you thought I was a first-year," You teased with false surprise.

"I-," He sighed, a little labored, and something shifted against the receiver, "Knew it was a possibility."

His standards aside, your interest moved to the extra sound on his end of the line. You prayed it was something risque.

"What else do you wanna know about me?" You stretched your legs up and watched your blank ceiling, biting your lip in wait for his response.

The way he towered over you- his frame was perfect for your fantasies. You imagined him leaning over you now, legs draped over his massive shoulders.

"What made you want to give me your number?"

Another shift, a heavy sigh. You couldn't raise the volume any higher, nor could you hold the phone any closer to your ear to try to hear what he was doing.

In the hopes that he was dirtier than he wanted to let on, you smiled at the freedom to paint his imagination.

"Hmm..." You drawled.

An eager hand dipped between your legs, with one last glance to the door, and you palmed yourself through your shorts while you spoke.

"Your serve really did it for me," As you recalled that last hit, you heard him shift again, "I like your look- y'know, the whole samurai vibe--,"

Asahi laughed a little, making you grin.

"-I think it's really hot."

A pause. "Wait- really?"

"Yeah!" You giggled, "You're a good mix of cute and scary, that's a huge turn-on."

"Wow."

Maybe it was a bit forward of you to say, but so was everything else until this point. Your breath stalled, hoping that was a good wow. It felt so quiet for so long. Everything was still on both sides.

You sat up after a few moments, pulse quickening, and you bit your finger to keep from blurting out another stupid claim. It must've been too much- you were just about to hang up when you heard a quiet, different tone through the speaker.

"What are you wearing right now?"

Mouth open, you made sure to click mute before squealing into your pillow-- when you came up, teary-eyed from the pressure and excitement, you had to catch your breath.

Your voice was slightly hoarse when you unmuted yourself and asked, calmly, "Do you want me to lie to you?"

Thrown in a dumbing whirl of arousal, you went to reach for a vibrator, but realized the sound would probably be too much. You opted for your own fingers instead and tried hard to visualize his heavy hand over yours.

"Shit-," He huffed an uneven sigh, "Go for it."

Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? You hoped he did- you hoped he knew exactly how to touch you, pleasure you, break you, then put you back together.

Your raised, flirty tone didn't match your answer, "Nothing."

The rumble of his laugh guided your hand to swirl small, soft circles around your clit. Your chest rose and fell a little faster, chasing the budding tightness that was finally coming back to you.

"What are you doing right now?" You couldn't help but ask. It was too tempting to wait around for him to tell you.

"Mm, I'm talkin' to you," He evaded. His smirk was audible through the phone.

His slight regional accent was so perfect. To Hell with city boys, you wanted this big, gruff countryside boy.

He laughed at your whine.

"I wish you weren't so far away," His tone lowered to a bare mutter- it was dripping in lust, but he covered it with a thin veil of wariness.

Your fingers felt so good, but his reminder only made you more sensitive to how you could never fulfill the ache deep inside without him right here, in Tokyo.

You could appreciate how he still kept his cards close. You weren't as patient as him- but upon your inevitable frustration that he wasn't as candid as you, the realization that it was the safer outcome dawned on you. If he wasn't so careful, he might hurt you.

Still, you were riding gentle, pleasant waves while you daydreamed through your response.

"How long would a train ride be?"

He didn't have to tell you how pretty you sounded for you to know. The little raise at the end of your sentence, the tiny waiver in your voice, you knew he liked it.

The quiet seethe on his end confirmed this. He told you without having to look it up, "Hour and a half."

Your pussy practically shut down.

"I could do that," You lied. Your brother would explode if he found out you hopped on a bullet train by yourself to go see some Karasuno boy- and he would. He always did.

Another low laugh. It fixed everything. You threw your head back again, fingers in your mouth so your fingers could slide a little better.

"Don't sound so disappointed," He cooed, "Me and the guys are gonna be in town for the weekend- and I was just thinkin'--,"

"Oh my god, yes. Whatever you're about to say, yes."

His distant 'Damn' away from the phone made you blush. You stopped touching yourself, just for the time being.

"There's just one problem."

You waited for the reveal without responding, then realized he wanted you to ask him.

"What?" You giggled at the weird pause.

His laugh was faint through the rest of his point, "Your brother."

You squinted at your ceiling again with a grumpy sigh. He was right. In fact, you were sure he didn't know the extent of how right he was. Your family was on Life360, and he had your location at all times.

If you turned your phone off, or deleted the app, or put it on 'battery saving-mode' he'd know, and it would be more ground to question you on.

It wasn't the tattling that bothered you, it was his nosiness in the first place.

The last time you snuck out to go see a boy further in the city, he followed you and ruined your movie date by kicking the back of his chair for half of the film. He drove you home and grilled you the entire way back.

"Fuck," You sighed, sitting up with a bit of a tummy-ache from your abandoned orgasm, "Yeah."

It sounded like he was moving again, but he was less flirty, and it made you think he maybe put his dick back up to think better.

"He actually called our team captain, Daichi. We were uh, still on the way back from the game. On the bus. And he put it on speaker."

Your jaw dropped again.

"Said he'd- ha-ha, he said he'd castrate anyone who touched you."

An annoyed sound left you.

"Don't tell me you believe that," You laughed pitifully.

Part of you believed it, so you wouldn't blame him if he did. That same days-long disappointment was creeping back.

Asahi considered his answer. He landed on, "I think... ah, I don't know. I think being cautious is smart."

You nodded slowly, but he couldn't see.

"I still wanna see ya," He added.

You grinned, relieved, and a little aroused again at his drawl, "Good."

It still left the obvious problem. You deliberated on what you could do. A glance to the locked door gave you one idea. Another glance to the window elaborated on it.

How could you see him, not leave the house, and have your brother not know at the same time?

Your question was slow as you slid off of your mattress and started to test the reliability of your window frame.

"How good are you at climbing?"

taglist.

thank ya'll for supporting this!!! i love this series it's so fun to write so i'm glad other people do too!! reply to be added to existing list :)

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere @kreishin

masterlist.

requests. (including what you might want to see in the next 2 parts)

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mandalhoerian · 2 years

Text

moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.

word count: 9K

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me

notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth

🌀 read on ao3!

📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!

📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!

In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.”

So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.

He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.

The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.

He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”

How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this.

You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.

You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap.

The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go.

What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance.

The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.

It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place.

Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded.

You accept him as such, love him all the same.

You’re not sure if he loves you just as much.

Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest.

What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list?

The insecurity surely is a small part of the ‘Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his.

This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all.

Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.

You take pity on him.

“I see. Alright.”

His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”

“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”

“No—wait—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying okay, Leon.”

He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”

You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?”

He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.

Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

That was the problem?

“I’m not, Leon.”

“How can you not be?”

“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”

He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me.

You don’t.

The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.

Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.

“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?”

“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.”

“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”

“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.”

You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”

You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”

“So you are angry.”

“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?”

He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face.

You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”

“Mourn?”

His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”

“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”

“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”

“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”

“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”

You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well.

The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end.

“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”

“Ah, c’mon…”

“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”

Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second.

“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”

“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”

You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.

“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”

Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it.

You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching.

“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”

“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.

“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”

He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain.

He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers.

That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing.

Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”

“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking.

He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this.

“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”

He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”

“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—”

“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”

You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”

“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…”

You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting?

“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body.

He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“

Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“

“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“

Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.

“What do you want me to say?“

“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.”

Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway.

But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”

Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“

“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”

A beat passes.

“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”

Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”

“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust.

“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”

“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless.

You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”

“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”

You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”

Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”

“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.

Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”

You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.”

It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”

“Huh?”

His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”

You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex.

He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”

You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”

The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him.

This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation.

Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly.

He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”

Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”

You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission.

Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.”

The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”

“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”

With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth.

“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”

His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.”

He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat.

The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”

“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”

It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.

More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after.

Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next.

Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked knees. “Open up for me.”

It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already.

Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.”

“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”

“It’s not that, I…”

He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?”

It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor.

Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”

“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder.

“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”

He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wanted to have you, remember?”

There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”

“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”

You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin.

“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?”

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”

“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”

Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”

“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”

It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”

Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going.

You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue.

As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening?

“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants.

You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again.

You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least.

His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”

“You want the other ear?”

His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”

“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”

“I could if you actually did something already.”

You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…

You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god.

And you’ve really barely even done anything to him.

You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general.

How further can you push?

“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will.

You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more.

He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.

You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence.

“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”

“You aren’t asking nicely enough.”

His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all.

You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…”

You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it.

“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?”

“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”

His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.

“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight.

“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.”

You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you.

Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously.

He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—

He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you.

His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this.

You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”

The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”

“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace.

“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!”

You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”

Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating.

“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”

You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark.

You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”

“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away.

And with that, you’re out like a light.

When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it.

It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.

You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming.

Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life.

You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon s. kennedy headcanons #resident evil 4 #re4 remake

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