Take It All

𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖙𝖜𝖔: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗

↳ cw: minors dni, dark content. proceed at your own risk. pentrative sex x2, riding, doggy, nothing really crazy here tbh, pregnancy, soft sukuna, human!sukuna, good husband fr. ↳ series masterlist ↳ jjk masterlist

you wake up the next morning enveloped in a warmth of an embrace you’ve never known. the sun was filtered red through the sheer curtain hanging over the window; the air a peaceful kind of quiet. you smile in remembrance, at the ache in your muscles and the realization of your new husband’s hard chest beneath you. he snores, you discover, every gentle breath bringing a little growl from his lips. you stifle a giggle to avoid waking him up. you have to smother out a hiss as you adjust yourself on him for the same reason—two more discoveries coming in tow–well three. you were still naked and impaled by a hard cock. now, you had heard stories of this. the old women of your village spoke of the differences between the male and female anatomy and this was one of the biggest inconveniences of being a man–so you’ve been told. men wake up nearly every morning with erections—simply a blood flow effect. however different from most men, it seems not even your husband could avoid such a problem. 

only, it’s creating a problem for you. he’s so big your hips are sore from keeping them in this position for so long–a sweet ache you know you’ll learn to live with. but besides that, you’re having flashbacks to last night, the glorious feeling of being fucked for the first time. you were so meek and unsure, but now…you feel a bit bolstered. it’s like your hips have a mind of their own, whispering to you that the only way to soothe the pain is by using the muscles. he’s asleep, your conquering king of a man. and surely, if being his wife meant being readily available for him to make use of—then the same would also be true in reverse, right? so you lick your lips, blinking the bleariness of sleep out of your eyes, and then push yourself up to lean back on him; his snoring hitches immediately. your eyes dart to study his face, to see if he’s caught you in your sneaky act. but he doesn’t move, his eyes remain closed and still. you’re safe. you set your brow in determination, getting your knees under you properly. 

your heart thumps loudly in your chest. you swear that will wake him before your movements do. but you can’t deny it’s exhilarating. you know you have nothing to fear even if you do wake him after all; except maybe him taking control for himself and ruining your ability to stand for another day. you’re awkward and unsure with your movements like a newborn fawn, slowly rocking back and forth with your head tossed back. you were still naked from the previous nights’ marriage festivities, as was he. so feeling him raw and bare was no issue, a hand sneaking up to fondle your own chest. little satisfied sighs and breathy moans roll freely, a gorgeous melody for anyone’s ears. 

sukuna, of course, has been awake for nearly an hour at this point. he woke up before even you, still soaking in the reality that he has a beautiful little wife tucked away on his cock. that this wasn’t all some realistic dream or cruel technique of an enemy. he spent every second admiring the way your body inhaled and exhaled; the part of your lips and flutter of your lashes as you slept against his heartbeat. he got to spend forever like this, with mornings like these, your supple body tangled up in his own firm one, your soft breasts resting like pillows beneath you. this was too good to be true. 

when you started to rouse, he quickly feigned sleep. part of him wanted to see if you would admire him in the same way he did you—but you were doing one better. it was growing more and more difficult to fake his slumber, your perfect little body bouncing up and down on him, his eyes cracked just wide enough to see your pouty lips purse with the need to shower him in their kisses; cock twitching inside you with the way your tits bounced with every slam down on his monstrous cock. you lean forward, stifling little whimpers as your pussy hugs and squeezes the very life out of him. your lips find his, and he struggles to stay limp and unresponsive. you whine with need, your dainty fingers tracing the calcified mask on his face. he can’t pretend anymore, kissing you back with the unbridled passion you always get from him. you squeal with a mix of surprise and happiness upon realizing that he’s awake, leaning back with a giggle. 

“good morning, husband.” you greet, a lazy smile with lidded eyes, panting with pleasure. 

“what a good morning indeed, my little wife.” he purrs, his voice sending quivers to your pussy. the deep rasp of it was intoxicating, it almost embarrasses you how responsive your body is to it. his massive hands stabilize the width of your hips, a lazy smirk donning his own features. “go on, my queen. make yourself cum with your husband’s cock.” he insists, fire blazing in those already crimson eyes. 

he has such a way with words. your pussy clamps around him again, fits of spasms causing you to flutter as well as rock your hips. he was sensitive from sheathing himself inside of your cozy cunt all night, and the way you look and sound doesn’t help matters. he knows he only has minute before you both cum, and these are minutes he’ll cherish until he gets to do it again tonight. 

“ryo–men!” you whimper brokenly, the sound of it like a chant to his ears—a name he used to despise hearing upon the lips of others was a treasure coming from you. sukuna was too formal for his wife to use with him, he certainly used your name enough. your head bobs quickly, brows pinching in sheer pleasure. it’s the telltale sign, he’s discovered, that you’re close to cumming beautifully. 

“yes, my precious little lamb, cum for me…” he demands in a tone that declared nothing but his fondness for you. your body shudders forward, jumping to obey his command, everything tightens up; your cunt around his cock, your legs on either side of his thick torso, even your pretty nipples harden up again. then he feels the gush of fluid coat his stiff length before that erupts inside you too. you slump against the comfort of his tattooed chest, purring happily at the feeling of his seed. you are trying to turn that into an heir for him after all. his hearty chuckles bring you back to the present moment, where his hands brace your hips. “what a pleasant way to start my day, little lamb.”

you smile, sitting up to meet his smitten red eyes. “i hope we spend most of our mornings this way.” you nod, just the silky sheet wrapped around your little frame. he arches a brow at that, a lazy grin that still clearly came from this softened morning state of him. 

“most? not all~” he teases, sitting up to pepper kisses to your face; his arms tighten around your back, biceps flexing to hold you taut to his body. this was a version of him that was only for you, you decided, the morning time has nothing to do with it. 

“i think my legs may fall off if i try to do that every morning–” you giggle, the sound so beautifully relaxing to his mind he can do nothing but laugh with you. that’s so foreign, laughing from a place of genuine joy instead of malice or brutal teasing. but it feels good. it feels like something he could get used to in your presence, a delight he could only indulge in with you. you were warm and kind and soft, the antithesis of everything he was. but you were also bold, and fiery, and honest—other traits he values just as much as waking up body on body. you complete him, a total monster, with your good humor and even temper–there is no doubt about it, you are the love of his life. 

and he would do anything to protect you. 

when a knock sounds at the door, he finds himself tucking you behind him with his left arms, staring at the heavy wood to register the energy behind it. he grunts his relief, covering you properly with the other fur blankets of the mattress. 

“you may enter, uraume.” his deep voice thundered , giving you a nod of reassurance as the knob clicks to open. in struts someone in long robes and white hair styled in a bob, red streaks around the center. 

“sukuna-sama,” they bow deeply, tucking their hands inside their sleeves. “good morning. i hope you had a good rest.” you feel something akin to jealousy bubbling in your gut. they bow again. “my queen, i am honored to meet you. i am your humble servant, please send for me should you need anything.” they hum. 

“good, good. get us breakfast.” sukuna smirks, fond of the unsure smile on your face. not only do you love him, but you’ll get jealous over him? and that fact fills him with such pride he doesn’t know what else to do but smirk. oh the surprises you’re showing him daily…

uraume bows once more and exits the room on a mission to get their boss and his new wife something to eat. 

“uraume is an outcast like i was. i have cared for them as my servant since we came across each other. they are loyal–but i can promise there is nothing to worry about, my love.” he says tenderly. you don’t doubt him, you would never doubt him. but his words put you at ease. you nod a few times, twisting to give him another kiss before slipping out of bed to freshen up before the faithful servant returns to see you so disheveled. 

he grabs your cheek before you can escape him completely, “you trust me.” 

your eyes bounce between the mask and his plain eye. “of course i do.” you grin, “i’m just going to get dressed for the day!” you hum, leaning into the warmth that takes up your entire head and face. he smiles softly.

“good, we have a big day ahead of us.” he says, admiring the glow to your skin, the happiness crinkling your eyes. “we’ll have an official coronation by the end of the week. the people from the lands i have conquered will recognize their rulers or die.” he hums, a pleasant lilt to his voice even when he’s saying something vicious like that. “then we’ll focus on the renovations to the castle and building our family.” 

your heart thumps. he has such big plans, all of which include you. he wants to create a life with you, for you. the strongest man on the planet wants you to be the mother of his children and rightful queen in ruling alongside him—something he wants to share with you. he has all the power in the world to make you completely and utterly subservient to him—to take what he wants and not waste his time on anything else. marrying at all spoke volumes, but the genuine love he handles you with is enamoring in and of itself. 

“i can’t wait. planning will be fun. i love to host.” you wiggle your hips, opening your closet to find some robes for the day. he lays on his side and lovingly watches you comb through your hair and wash your face clean. your body is littered with lovebites from the night before, some only reddened from his added attention this morning. you’re so radiant to a point he almost doesn’t want anyone to look at you. but alas, you’re a natural born leader and a queen too perfect to hide away. even if that will manifest his own jealousy. your happiness is his primary goal—something he never thought he would say. 

uraume returns with omurice for the two of you, and eagerly discusses plans about the coronation with you. they will spread the word immediately so that the subjects from far and wide may travel in for the event. and uraume will contact the finest architects to start bringing sukuna’s designs to life. your excitement is palpable by the time you finish breakfast. 

the rest of the week ticks by without much fanfare. the two of you have settled in your makeshift palace—or castle as sukuna has taken to calling it. your life as a married woman is lavish. someone brings you your food and runs your bath water for you, braids your hair as soon as it’s combed through—which your husband insists on doing himself. he dotes on you in all of his spare time, working tirelessly to “welcome” all the travelers into the growing city he was proud to call home. this was his wife’s birthplace, of course he would erect your lives here. 

the night before the coronation, he comes to bed later than usual. “some of these nasty little gremlins talk incessantly–” he complains, finding you in a tight silken nightgown laying atop the sheets. you seemingly know what you do to him. it’s already hard not to destroy your little body, and then you have to go and provoke him–

“i missed you.” you purr, crawling on your knees to the end of the bed. oh the desire burning through his veins is ominous for you. you may have to be crowned seated tomorrow. “i know you were so busy today…let’s unwind?” you sit back on your haunches. he would move mountains to keep you here like this forever. 

his eyes siren in on you, merely a wolf preying on his lamb. “i missed you too, tiny queen.” he stalks forward, pawing at the breadth of your hips, the swells of your breast. “you know just how to make a bothersome day better.” he mutters, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin—raising goosebumps in its wake. the simple touch of his hands mixed with the feeling of his voice rumbling against your veins had your eyes shutting to try and tame the yearning stinging in your pussy. “i want to put my children in you.”

a small moan slips past your lips. your black widow technique is suited for it, just an added ability to be fertile since it’s related to animals and mother earth. his promises to breed you only activated a very deep seeded part of you that only he can satisfy. he eases you back, turning you to a position on your knees. you brace yourself, the chill of excitement racing down your spine. his large hand smoothes against the soft pudge of your belly, prompting you to sink in against it in the most perfect arch. 

“i’ll be nestled in so nicely my little lamb,” he promises, the deep silken baritone of his voice has you clenching, the familiar wetness drooling down your thighs. you’re so easily worked up. but he can’t bring himself to just take from you, his inability to say how much he loves you easily replaced by his need to show it. his hand angles lower, calloused middle finger petting back the hood of your precious clit, your breath catching in your throat. “so deep i’ll cum straight into your womb.” 

just his presence makes your head woozy. that’s before the gentle circles to your swollen bundle, before his strong body pressed against your back had your knees wobbling against the mattress. he found it adorable that your hips moved on their own, grinding into his hand to seek your own pleasure. he loved watching it, loved listening to your little whimpers as you processed just how good a few of his digits could make you feel. “so much cum, drown your poor insides,” he sighs in faux boredom, grinning as you fling your head back with a gasp. “do it, go ahead.” 

and how could you not? the perfect combination of touch and taunts to get you to the precipice. your orgasm shatters your insides, eyes widening at the intensity. that’s a feeling you’ll never entirely get used to no matter how many times sukuna gives it to you. he chuckles fondly, tapping your swelling cunt. you hear the shuffle of fabric and then you feel it; his weighty cockhead dripping against your entrance. “that’s a good little wife, let’s see how many you can handle on my cock…” 

your hands fist the sheets, body going rigid to accommodate his size in this position. it hurts so blisteringly good, lightning sparkling in your vision as he, as promised, prods at your poor cervix, in for a long ride tonight. his hands position themselves on your hips, drawing the fat of your ass along the fat length of him, eliciting wanton moan after wanton moan from you. you stretch your arms out in front of you like a cat, grunting and whining from the way his hips collide with your asscheeks. it’s all you can hear though, even drowning out the sounds of your own moans. he’s drilling you; cramming inches of dick in such a small space he can’t believe you’re real. no wonder he’s so taken with you. he goes impossibly harder–faster, your arms giving out beneath you–face collapsing into the bed. 

“ryo—” your voice is muffled from the sheets, body crumpled up beneath him. oh it’s so hard not to break you entirely—only out of his utter love for you is he able to keep a clear mind, be thankful that you have enamored him so. your hands brace against the headboard, nails scratching at the wood in front of you, vision completely blacked out–the only thing you can think of is how fuzzy you feel all over. 

“cum, i’ll turn you over and keep going.” he growls against your shoulder, looping an arm around your neck to put you in a secured headlock. it’s not choking, but it’s suffocating all the same. the cushion of his strapping bicep makes you drool from both ends, spasming around your husband’s cock for the nth time since you’ve been married. his voice commands such obedience, so domineering in the way that he orders you cum for him. your body physically cannot disobey. 

his grin is devilish once he feels the warm rush, and he stays good on his promise, flipping you to a more comfortable position on your back. “that’s one…” he hums softly, picking up your legs at their bend, pinning them to his hips as he slides back in. you scream out at the added pressure, the stimulation so much to endure at the hands of your passionate husband.

instantly, he’s rocking slowly. you know there’s a plan, a secret bite. he’s hitting you so deep, smacking into your breeding spot each and every time, warming it up to the idea of taking every drop of him. your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, lips swollen and pink from all the chewing on them to quiet yourself. your gorgeous tits bounce to punctuate every thrust–he can’t get enough of you. he puts your legs on his shoulders with a little snarl, nipping at the skin on your neck. 

you’re drifting blissfully in waves of pleasure, barely conscious already. “so beautiful, fucked out, making cream on my dick..” he chuckles into your ear, licking the shell and nipping the lobe before giving you a hungry kiss. it demonstrates his true passion, his genuine worship of his wife. his hips snap a little faster, mouth angled over yours to swallow up all your moans. “so good for her husband. taking me so very well..” 

he ends up drawing four orgasms out of you total. tomorrow he’ll try five—in the name of celebration of course! you’ll officially be king and queen tomorrow. and he intends to keep such festivities going for as long as he can. for once, sukuna has a lot to celebrate. 

the next day, uraume is stretched thin trying to attend to you both. you require the most attention, as your hair and robes are rather intricate and need assistance to put together. but sukuna is impatient and doesn’t like to be separated from you for any length of time, so he insists on changing in the room with you and sitting with you as your hair is braided and weaved. no one would have pegged him as the clingy type—but it does make sense when you think on it past his brute surface. you are the only person he has ever cherished. putting you in danger was something he just simply wasn’t willing to do. problem is, he considers anywhere out of his immediate sight as danger. 

eventually though, you’re dressed like the queen you’re soon to become. sukuna wore simply ravishing black robes, allowing all the color and decor for his beautiful bride. he smiles at you as you step off of the stool in all your glory. 

“you look beautiful in that…you always do.” he says with a nearly dopey expression on his face. he reaches for your hand and tucks it around his bicep, leading you out on the terrace overlooking the crowd. a raucous roar greets the two of you a you come into the scene, red and black flowing fabric swaying with the gentle breeze; highlighting the complexion of your skin and the warmth of your smile. 

a town shaman performs the crowning rite. it’s short and simple, your crowns anything but. while the general consensus of the crowd seems pleasant, you can pick out a few less than satisfied faces out amongst the rest of your new congregation–a hubbub of your old one. sukuna takes your hand once again, standing before everyone on an elevated platform, leaving without another word. no grand speech, no slaughtering to strike fear into their hearts. just the faint smile as he leads you back to the quarters you’ve come to love so much.

you almost expect him to get straight to it, fiddling with the tie on your dress robes, but he helps you with a gentle hand. he’s still in disbelief, honestly. these are dreams he hadn’t even dared to dream before. you make everything better. it’s…shocking. he helps you into your regular nightgown, disrobing on his own. “how does it feel..? to officially be queen–my queen?” he asks as he peels back the covers for you. he seems eager to pick your brain, and you know it’s his way of figuring out how he feels exactly too.

“i feel good. i feel like we have a lot to do, and we have a lot of support and ability to make this a really successful reign, my love.” you smile. laying on your side to look at him. he’s mirroring your posture, reaching out to paw at your hips, bringing you closer, wrapping his frame around yours in a tight hug. “i feel like we’ve already accomplished so much in bringing all these people together!” 

your answer brings a smile to his face. he should have known it would be some optimistic cute utterance like that, you’re genuinely too sweet sometimes. “how about you? how do you feel?” 

“i feel…like i am dreaming.” he replies, nuzzling his nose against yours. the gesture makes your heart swell and heat up. you just spend a few moments gazing at each other. 

“you’re not dreaming.” you whisper between you, fluttering lashes just flirting with him. a grin spreads his cheeks. 

“come here and prove it.” 

he gives you the promised five orgasms that night, and your body is so spent you sleep through most of the next day, spending those remaining daylight hours out in the flower field on a picnic date with your husband. 

the next week was spent hosting the contractors and architects, sitting in on the meetings with your king husband to weigh in on your own designs and choices. it’s fun to see everything laid out so simply, every image and description the two of you have was brought to life. the cobblestone kitchen idea, the long hallways, the wrapping stairs and canopy bed. all of it. 

the week after that, they start construction. it’s been about two and a half months into your marriage–two months have passed already? how could that be?

“m’lady? lunch.” uraume’s voice rips you from your own head. you had yet to drag yourself out of bed this morning. you hadn’t been feeling very well at all the past few days, and the idea of eating whatever that awful smell was had your stomach bubbling. uraume hadn’t even fully entered the room yet, seeing you sneer at your food, they sigh heavily. “what is it, do you not like my cooking all of a sudden?”

your husband got up on schedule to oversee some of the work being done today and was no doubt sending his most loyal servant in to check on you. you really were feeling horrible, if it weren’t for their usefulness you’d have half a mind to be annoyed with sukuna for sending them. you shake your head fervently. 

“no–i dunno, there must be some flu going around, i’m sure it will pass.” you sigh, snuggling the blankets up to your face. 

“let me bring the healer. perhaps she has a tonic to ease your nausea. or perhaps it’s the news you’ve been waiting for, my queen.” they say with a giddy little grin. their reminder has you gasping. 

“yes, please fetch her. do not tell the king until we know for certain, please?” you ask hopefully. it’s always a touch sell to have uraume keep anything away from sukuna. but to your surprise, they nod. this is news that you should break yourself. 

sure enough, uraume returns with the village healer nearly an hour later. sukuna is still tied up with the building plans—you can hear him yelling orders from your bedroom—but you’re actually grateful to be without him for now. you lay down for her and answer her questions about your marriage dates and your last bleeding. 

she feels your stomach, listening with a tool you’ve never seen before. 

“ahh~ seems your servant had the right idea. it seems the queen is pregnant. congratulations.” she bows her head deeply, your eyes filling with tears as you exchange a sweet look with uraume, how special for them to be a part of this moment. 

“thank you–” you manage with a gasp, absolutely over the moon, needing desperately to see your husband. this was news you’d never be able to keep to yourself for long. uraume seems to know exactly what you’re thinking; offering to fetch him instantly. 

you stand at the foot of your bed, pacing in wait. you have no idea what uraume said to draw him in your direction, and you’re hurrying to think of a good way to share the news. you didn’t have very long, your husband bursting into the room with panicked eyes searching over you. 

“uraume says the healer was here—are you alright?” he says, his lower set of hands reaching for yours. your grin blossoms, betraying every intention you had of playing coy. 

“i’m fine, my love. i’m more than fine. i’m pregnant!” you squeal, the news like someone sucked the air out of his lungs. you squeeze his hands, beautifully happy—contagiously happy. it’s finally real, you’re going to grow the family. you’re making all his dream reality. he blinks at you, wondering if that was just his active imagination. 

“what?” he blinks, bringing you closer, holding your hips, “say it again.” 

“i’m pregnant, sukuna. we’re going to have a baby. a little heir!!” you grin from ear to ear, being scooped up in his strong arms a second later. you’re spinning around the room in a fit of giggles, his touch secure and tight. 

if you thought your husband was clingy before, good luck getting him to leave your side now.

tags: @neon-crow @skypperlegacy @gis4greenandgreenisgre4t @secondos-slut @alltimenogoaway-blog @tragedyofabrokensoul @eiaaasamantha asukahiriko2 @t4naiis @thejujvtsupost @mymelx @maskedpacific @berranurates @enchantingartisanwitch @alastors-radio @gojosukuna2268 @hannas16 @alwaysfreakingout @thepurpleempath

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

♡ thigh riding with kakashi - kinktober 2023 ♡

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨ 18+ | minors dni ୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary: you and kakashi are helping obito move. when his van is too full, you have to sit on kakashi's lap on the drive to obito's new place. too bad obito is a horrible driver, and the road to the apartment is much rougher than you remembered. kakashi x reader. college au.

word count: 2452

content warnings: thigh riding, slight exhibitionism, cumming in pants, sexual acts in a van, embarrassment and humiliation mentioned in reader's thoughts, afab!reader (pronouns not mentioned)

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨ nsfw below the cut ୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

“Obito, there’s no room for me to sit.” 

He craned his neck around from his position in the driver's seat to examine your dilemma. You were right: there really wasn’t any room for you in the van. Kakashi was already squeezed into the only empty seat, and every other seat was occupied by whatever the fuck Obito insisted on moving from his dorm to his apartment. 

“Just sit on Bakashi’s lap,” he shrugged, already annoyed and tired from packing all day. He could barely see Kakashi’s hair over the TV that took up most of the middle row of seats, so Obito didn’t notice Kakashi flipping him off as he rolled his eyes. Despite your sour mood and sore muscles, you still managed to giggle at the sight of Kakashi being annoyed enough to give Obito any sort of reaction.

 You also giggled to hide your nerves, because the thought of sitting on Kakashi’s lap made you shiver with excitement, which was not what you needed right now. 

Mind over matter, you told yourself as you climbed into the beat-up van. Kakashi did his best to help guide you into the most comfortable, least intimate seating position for you both, which was you straddling one of his thighs and leaning forward against the seat in front of you. Was it comfortable? Fuck no; your back was already hurting from carrying boxes to the van all day. But any excuse to be this close to Kakashi was nothing to complain about, so you made yourself as comfortable as you could while Obito pulled out of the parking lot. 

“Sorry for squishing you,” you offered to him, turning your head just barely enough so you could speak to him. You caught a glimpse of him, and he looked uncomfortable, which made you feel even worse. “Just let me know if I need to move and I’ll do my best.” 

“Maa, you’re not squishing me,” he assured, adjusting his leg beneath you. The pressure against your core was noticeable and a tingle worked its way up your spine, causing you to blush. 

God, it had been far too long since you’d gotten off. Casual hookups weren’t your thing, and the last friend with benefits you had ended things because he caught feelings, so you’d been self-reliant for at least a year now. Your toys always did the job, but you wished a certain white-haired best friend of yours would do the job for you. 

Too bad he’d never be interested in someone like you. 

You lost yourself in thought, ignoring the feeling of Kakashi’s thigh between your legs, and focused intently on the song playing from the vans’ speakers. 

That is, until Obito hit the giant fucking pothole he always hit, despite it being in the same spot for months, causing Kakashi’s thigh to put some delicious friction directly against your clit. 

The noise you let out was definitely a moan. There was no doubt about it to you. Thank god it sounded more like a yelp of surprise and pain to Kakashi, but that didn’t stop you from blushing profusely.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning forward and gently brushing your thigh with his fingertips. There was concern laced in his words, which would have melted you at literally any other point in time; now, it was just making your current predicament worse, because you were imagining his fingertips doing something completely different.

You gripped the seat in front of you hard, nodding your head while refusing to look at him. 

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” you stuttered, your voice a pitch higher than normal. “The bump just startled me.” You knew he could tell you were lying, but this was not the time to discuss it. Not when you were straddling his thigh and so close to his cock. 

“Well if it gets too uncomfortable, please let me know so we can switch positions,” Kakashi offered as he squeezed your hip before letting it go. 

Your pussy was determined to betray you. His kind words, the double meaning of “switching positions” that had you thinking of riding him until you collapsed from exhaustion, and the tickle of his fingers squeezing the soft flesh of your hips had you clenching around nothing. 

You nodded again and leaned your head against the seat in front of you, willing your body to stop reacting to Kakashi’s body being so close to yours. The very back row of Obito’s van was the least smooth area to sit, so the vibrations were amplified, which had you white-knuckling the headrest in front of you and gritting your teeth. And of course, Obito was not a good driver, so the amount of bumps and jolts the van made only made you wetter and more horny and the most mortified you’ve ever been in your life.

“How you holding up back there?”

Obito’s words brought you back to reality. You’d been dissociating to forget about your current predicament, so you didn’t know how long you’d been on the road. 

“How much longer?” you groaned, craning your neck to see over the TV that blocked you from Obito’s view. 

He glanced at you in the rear view mirror and wiggled his eyebrows at you, which only meant one thing: he did this on purpose. That fucker. He knew you had a crush on Kakashi that you’d never do anything about, and he was always trying some stupidly concocted plan to get you two together. 

“Only about fifteen more minutes,” he sighed, winking at you before fixing his eyes back on the road. 

You groaned and let your head fall forward against the seat in front of you again. This was the horniest you had ever felt in your life. Your clit craved stimulation. The ache between your thighs had moved from annoying to downright uncomfortable. You were going to kill Obito after this. 

“You look uncomfortable. You can scoot back a little if that would help,” Kakashi offered, placing his hand on your hip again. His voice had a husky undertone to it, and for a brief, delusional moment, you wondered if he was as flustered as you, but quickly shooed the thought from your mind before you responded. 

“Yeah, I think that might help,” you admitted. Your back really was hurting from sitting like a cooked shrimp to avoid leaning back against Kakashi.  You were already in this situation and still had to help Obito unload everything, so there was no sense in making yourself suffer any more. 

Kakashi placed his other hand on your other hip and guided you further back on his thigh, closer to his body, and that’s when you felt it. Your arousal had soaked through your panties and your thin leggings, and the cold air hitting the wet spot sent a chill up your spine. 

Fuck. 

“Is that better?” he asked. Your voice was going to give you away, so instead of responding verbally, you just nodded without facing him. 

“Are you sure?” he pressed, tightening his grip ever so slightly on your hips. God damn it, you were going to have to answer out loud anyways. 

“Ye-“ you started to say, but Kakashi shifted under you to make himself more comfortable, and you whined. His muscular thigh pressed against your clit when he shifted and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped. 

His grip on your hips tightened, and you could’ve sworn you heard a groan rumble in his chest as he breathed. 

“Sorry, yeah. I’m sure,” you said shakily, absolutely mortified. You really considered asking Obito to just pull over so you could walk back to your apartment and scream into your pillow. Up until now, you were just suffering in silence, but Kakashi, the boy you’d been in love with for the last four years of college, heard you whimper when his thigh pressed against your pussy. There was no coming back from that. 

Kakashi let go of your hips and didn’t say anything, only leaned back against the seat and breathed deeply. 

Great. He was upset with you for being horny. You’d ruined any sort of chance of ever being with him at this point. 

As you were mentally chastising yourself, Obito hit yet another bump in the road. You were clenching your jaw so hard you thankfully didn’t react, but you weren’t prepared to hear Kakashi whisper “fuck” under his breath as you involuntarily slid backwards just slightly. You knew what caused the reaction too: your ass was now pressing against his semi-hard cock. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, grimacing to yourself. This was now the worst case scenario and you felt horrible for putting him in this position. “Help me scoot back up.” 

But his hands found their way back to your hips again, keeping you from moving away from him. 

“Please don’t.” 

You thought he was messing with you. There was no way he just said that. Was this a part of Obito’s sick plan? Did he convince Kakashi to go along with this, to make you think Kakashi liked you? This was a new low for Obito. You’d always joked around with each other, but never like this, and never with Kakashi. 

You turned around to tell him not to joke like that, but you’re met with an unexpected sight: Kakashi, cheeks flushed, breath labored, looking like he’s seconds away from cumming in his pants. 

“W-what?” you asked, completely caught off guard by his demeanor. He was always collected, so seeing him begging you to keep your ass pressed against his crotch couldn’t compute in your brain. 

“I’m so s-sorry. Just pl-“ he was cut off by another bump in the road, causing him to curse and squeeze your hips so tight you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow. “Shit. Just please keep pressing against me like that. God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

His pathetic pleading went straight to your core, and you couldn’t help but roll your hips to chase the feeling you’d been fighting this whole drive. You gripped his knee for stability and paused, your heart racing and brain foggy from your lust-fueled haze. 

After several deep breaths and a sliver of mental clarity, you whipped your head back around to check in the rearview mirror, making sure Obito couldn’t see you when you lowered your head. The music was loud enough that he couldn’t hear you two, and the TV was shielding you and the lewd acts you were about to commit. After your thorough examination of the situation and making sure you had whatever sad excuse for privacy you could call this, you slowly ground your pussy into his thigh again, causing you both to gasp. 

“Is this what you want?” you breathed before you ground your hips down over and over in the same spot, pressing your ass against his cock every time you did. “Fuck, Kashi. This feels so good.” 

The shame you felt was immeasurable. Here you were, rubbing your clit on your best friend's thigh in the back of a car. Your face felt hot from embarrassment and arousal. Stopping this would probably save you at least some fraction of dignity, but you didn't care. Your body was in control now, and it was chasing a high you'd been craving for years.

“D-don’t say things like that,” he begged, digging his fingers into your plush hips. His voice sounded so ruined, a stark contrast to his usual controlled manner of speech. You desperately wished you were facing him so you could stare at his beautiful face and watch the whimpers fall from his mouth. “We shouldn’t even be doing this.”

You knew the letdown would happen sooner or later. It was just inevitable. You also knew he was right: you shouldn't be doing this. But with your body acting as the driving force behind the determined roll of your hips, rational thought was currently taking a back seat.

“I know, but I’m so close,” you whispered, your voice sounding so pathetic as you held back your moans. “If you never want to talk to me a- ah fuck - again after this, I understand.” 

Kakashi pulled you back towards him, your back now flush against his chest, as you continued to ride his thigh from your new position. His heart was hammering in his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear how its rhythm increased when he dragged you closer.

“That’s n-not what I meant,” he groaned quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist. You could feel him slightly thrusting against your ass, his hard length pressing into your soft flesh. “I meant we shouldn’t do this because I don’t think I’ll be able to ever look at you again without imagining how your ass feels against my cock.” 

“Fuck,” you whined, your high quickly approaching. His filthy words were making you feel even more humiliated by what you two were doing, but they also made you so much wetter. Your head fell back against his shoulder and you drank in the beautiful sight of him looking so desperate to cum, and that’s what sent you over the edge. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stay quiet as you came, your thighs trembling around his leg from your orgasm. 

“God, you look so beautiful when you cum,” Kakashi whispered, his thrusts against you becoming more erratic. “I never thought - f-fuck - I’d get to see you like that.” His arms tightened around your waist, pulling your body closer to his. “I just wish I could’ve heard the s-sounds you make.” 

“Maybe we’ll just have to do this again sometime so you can hear me,” you teased, rolling your hips one more time against his cock. Your sultry words were his breaking point. He covered his own mouth with his hand, whispering curses into his palm as he rode out his high beneath you. 

“Do you really mean that?” Kakashi panted after a minute of trying to calm down enough to speak. His fingers absentmindedly traced in various patterns on your leggings, the sensation bringing both of you back down to earth. 

“I think this conversation is best to have after we help Obito finish moving and we're not limited to the backseat of a shitty van," you said with an amused smirk as you felt the van slow to a stop and park. Kakashi nodded in agreement, placing a kiss on your temple before you two had to exit the van. 

You sat up and peered over the TV, only to be met with Obito’s piercing gaze in the rearview mirror. He didn’t say anything, only raised his eyebrows at you before getting out of the van. 

He definitely heard you two.

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

read part 2 here!

what if, hypothetically, sanemi needs you to jack himself off????

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

YOU.

a/n: coming back w my sanemi content w esha's ask cuz shes my gorgeous, gorgeous girl whos jst a sweetie pie

c/w: smut, handjobs, sanemi is obsessed w u lol

He can't do it.

 His palm is so rough. 

He craves the soft, warmth of your hand. How your fingertips slide and caress his delicate veins. The way your thumb wandered over his bulbous tip, as pre-gathered, and traveled across his shaft. 

He became desperate thinking about it.

It was late in the night. He felt himself stir awake, as his shaft abruptly jerked within the thin material of his boxers. Pulsing. His erection heavy and needy. His body became immensely eager. 

He glances at your sleeping physique, his cheeks heated. His chest heaved, flowing unevenly 

You looked delectable, he thought, sinking his teeth to his lower lip. Vile thoughts swiftly clouded his mind. He pondered the supple feel of your body, the sounds you'd emit as he traveled his hands over the delicate regions of your body. 

He shouldn't wake you, he reasoned. He shouldn't be so selfish. 

So he attempted to relieve himself, gently palming his hand against the rigid bulge of his boxers. He tried to recite it precisely, the way you would. 

Nevertheless, it wasn't the same. 

And he knew he couldn't bring himself back to sleep. 

So, he acted selfishly. 

Climbing himself on top of you, he gently kisses at your neck, striving to stir you awake. Heavy rushes of his breath rolled from his lips, gliding across your flesh.. 

You shortly awoke. Slowly adjusting your sight, you could feel his body's desperation. The stiff swell of his arousal pressing against you. 

He soon excuses himself as he whispers lovingly into your ear.

“I’m sorry baby– fuck.. I didn't mean to wake ya’ i’m just...”, His breath came forward shakily. “I just really need you, sweet thing.. please?”

You gaze at him wistfully. His pleas awakened you slightly. You nod subtly, as you watch Sanemi pull his eager cock from the tight confines of his briefs. It stood upright, as pearly beads of pre trailed.

You wrap your fingers around the base, prompting a desperate gasp from Sanemi's lips. You could feel him quiver and throb keenly. 

You begin to pump, your fingertips caressing the prominent veins. Your thumb skimmed along the underside of his dick. 

He shouldn't be that excited. So eager. Yet he couldn't help it. 

He struggled to contain his eager whines and groans as his body was overcome with ecstasy. He felt like a hound in heat. 

He bit his lower lip, grasping the sheets and watched your fingers glide over his tender cock. 

He loved how you caressed him. Nobody could have made him feel the way you do. 

He couldn’t pleasure himself. He could only truly feel good beneath your hands. But he didn’t care.

All he could think of was your touch, as he eagerly rocked his hips against your hand. He was driven to reach the height of pleasure. The thrill of bliss. 

“That’s it– That’s it. Fuck– I need it. I n–need it.”, He babbled, his hips ruthlessly striking against your fingertips. 

He saw stars. The Sacred Gates of Nirvana. And it was all you. 

Your touch.

Your caress. 

Your body. 

He was feeling phenomenal, his thoughts obscured with you. His body tightened, and his thighs trembled humbly. 

You were exceptional at providing him pleasure. He couldn't be more thrilled. 

soft sex with leon kennedy ♡

ahhh i love this man. comfort character fr.

anyway no warnings. fem!reader and lots of love praise and aftercare :3 smut below the cut! probably the longest fic i ever wrote so pls tell me if it’s actually decent. i’m not used to writing long fics

a reminder rqs are open btw :3

Leon struggles with telling you how much he loves you. He’s always been a man of few words since you knew him. does that mean he doesn’t love you? no way in hell. he loves you more than you’ll ever know.

It’s visible with the way he’s so gentle with you. When holding you, when talking to you, sleeping with you, making love with you.

Because Leon doesn’t fuck; he’s making love.

he’s so gentle, putting you on a pedestal, treating you like a queen you are. his eyes are on you as he kneels down in front of you, hands already on thighs and gently squeezing them. you swear you can see little hearts in his eyes with how in love he is with you.

“That’s it baby, so good for me. Always so pretty, the prettiest girl in the entire world.” and he’s saying this so lovingly as he takes his time with you. first, he places loving kisses all over your thighs, mumbling how much he loves you after each kiss. he finally tugs off your panties and lifts your thighs up, letting out a soft moan at the sight in front of him.

“Good girl. Love you so much, princess, can’t believe you’re mine.” with those words, he places your thighs on his shoulders, burying his face in your puffy cunt. he loves it there, loves when you close your thighs around his head. he presses light kisses on your clit, going down to finally dive in and eat you out like a starved man he is. truth be told, when he’s between your legs, he always loses himself, always in his own world with how good it feels for him. always praising you, even when it’s barely audible.

“Mm, fuck, you’re just perfect aren’t you? Sweet girl. Just sit there and let me take care of you.” he loves your taste. always spends so much time on your pussy, making you come at least two times before he even thinks of himself.

when you start trembling, he knows you’re close. he speeds up his movements, clumsily reaching out to hold your hand as his hand rests on your thigh. and then you cum — and he feels like heaven’s greeting him right now. you’re squirming, because you’re sensitive and yet he never stops eating you out; quite the opposite. he makes it a challenge to make you cum faster than the orgasm before the next one. with how sensitive you are it’s not hard — he starts fingering you, gently curling his fingers to reach your sweet spot that makes you spread and lift your legs higher.

“Could spend forever between your legs, love. Fuck, you taste too good for your own good. How can I not grow drunk on you?” all he thinks about in this moment is you, you, you — your face, your pussy, your hand tugging on his hair. he loves when you do that, loves when you use him for your pleasure.

“That’s it, angel. Jus’ use me all you want, ‘m all yours, my cock is yours, everything I own is yours. ‘m here to please you, baby, please,” he actually starts to get whiny at his own words — cock so hard it’s throbbing against his stomach but he just doesn’t want to stop until you cum again. he has to see you cum again — it’s like a blessing to him.

when you finally cum, he has this big, proud grin on his face, eyes hazy but full of love for you. you can notice just how hard he is — and yet he doesn’t care until you ask him to slide in. of course he’ll oblige, anything for his princess.

he reaches out to take your hand in his again, guiding his cock inside with the other. both of you moan at the same time, you because you feel him snug so well inside, him because he feels your gummy, warm walls already wrapping around him like a blanket. he feels like he’s about to cum right there and now, but he holds back, wanting to make you cum again.

“Fuck, you’re made for me. You’re so perfect, I love you so much. You feel so damn good.”

Leon’s not rushing it. his pace is actually pretty balanced, not wanting to overwhelm you. he peppers your neck with gentle love bites and hickeys, all the way to your chest where he sucks your nipples like his life depended on it. fondles your breast with one hand, sucking on the other one while still holding your hand. he’s searching for that spot you love so well — and when he finds it, he’s so proud of himself.

“Right there baby? Yeah? Good girl, taking me so well, this pussy was made for me.” he’s adjusting his position, arching his hips to just hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly until he feels you squirming.

he loves being drunk on you, he loves drowning himself in you, your embrace, your scent. he loves everything about you. the way you scratch his back, dig your fingers in when you’re close — he moans so loudly at that you’re almost surprised if it wasn’t for him thrusting in you so well. you two are so close, but he cums right after you do — he wouldn’t dare cum before you.

he stays inside you for a moment, just staring into you lovingly. he presses a sweet kiss to your head, before slowly pulling out and picking you up.

“Cmon, babygirl. Did so well for me, time to take care of you.”

he carries you to the bathroom, cleans you up, makes sure you’re hydrated, well fed and clean before actually tucking you in bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest so you feel his heartbeat as you come down from your high.

hii 💕 i have a leon oneshot request!

basically leon has been gone on a mission for much longer than expected and reader is soso worried it is eating them alive. and then one night in the middle of the night reader hears the door open so theyre scared because god knows who it could be so they go to check and its leon! theres then crying from the reader and lots of love and comfort that eventually leads to sweet comfort sex 💓

idk if you take requests on specific versions of leon but og re4 is my favorite version 😋 if you dont thats fine <3

Of course I take requests for specific versions of Leon!

I haven't written for OG RE4 Leon before but I tried my best to capture his sass/surliness. So here's what I think comfort sex would look like for him :)

Lmk if you want anything changed! I'm super happy to edit it as much as you'd like so it better suits your vision~

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

OG RE 4 Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Synopsis: Leon comes home after a prolonged mission.

Tags: 18+ (smut), MDNI, hurt/comfort, established relationship, re4!Leon, AFAB reader, oral (m receiving), p in v, cowgirl position, missionary position, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, mutual comfort sex (Leon has feelings, too!)

WC: 6,270

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You’d tried everything to quell your roiling stomach: chamomile tea, peppermint tea, shots of apple cider vinegar, a whole bottle of Tums consumed over the course of three days (which, now that you think about it, could have actually worsened your condition). You’d gone on walks to distract yourself. You’d taken a yoga class with a close friend. You’d taken pilates with a not-so-close friend. And in an act of utter desperation, you’d called your mom to make small talk about the weather and her current hobbies just so you wouldn’t have to stew in your own thoughts. 

But your anxiety hadn’t been assuaged, not even remotely. In fact, it festered, kept alive and well-fed by your incessant tears and the late nights spent hunched over the porcelain bowel of a toilet. Like black mold clinging to the back of your kitchen cabinet, it thrived on your misery, on the dampness of your cheeks, on the way your breathy screams humidified the gelid, sterile air of your bedroom when you had yet another gruesome nightmare. 

Leon had been gone for almost two months now and he hadn’t called. Not once. Not a singular call wherein he’d sit silently on the line just so you could hear him breathe. Not a singular email or text or goddamn smoke signal to indicate that he was still alive. 

He’s a callous man, though, not one to share his emotions so openly. He’d improved with you; he’d developed a heart when you’d sobbed and half-heartedly beat his stupidly toned chest with the sides of your fists the last time he’d been gone for a while. He’d developed a habit of calling you at least once a week. Sometimes he’d speak, but most of the time he’d just let you do all the talking. That was enough, usually, and he never complained — well, not after you’d given him a proper tongue lashing for his total lack of sympathy. 

Leon’s apology had been sincere. He’d gotten you flowers, taken you to a lavish dinner, and showered you with expressions of deep remorse. He’d made up for it in the bedroom, too, and how could you really stay mad at him after that? 

Easily, you think now. You can easily stay mad at him. He’ll have to do a lot more than bring you to climax a couple of times to make up for this — if he’s alive, that is. 

You let out a small sob. He could very well be dead now. He could very well be dead and you’ll have no way of knowing. It’s not like you two are married — you’d been dating for a while, but nowhere near that level of commitment. You wonder if the U.S. government paid courtesy visits to girlfriends. He didn’t have family, and all of his friends were also government employees, so they’d certainly know well before you did if he’d made it out alive. 

You remove the heating pad sitting on your stomach, roll out of bed, and pad over to Leon’s dresser. You’re close to exhausting his supply of t-shirts, so you’d taken to rationing them like some kind of doomsday prepper. They’re now reserved for nights you’ll predictably get little to no sleep, but when was the last time you’d slept through the night, anyway? No wonder you’re down to his last three shirts. 

It still smells like him, like leather and whiskey and cedar wood. You take off the shirt you’re currently wearing—it’s also his but his scent isn’t as pungent—and slip the new one on over your aching body. You bring the collar to your nose, inhaling deeply. Tears prick your lids. God, how are you not out of tears yet? But a muffled jingling of keys and the distinguishable sound of the front door unlocking breaches the silence that had befallen your apartment these past two months. 

Your blood turns to ice as you hear the door creak. It’s shut with painstaking care. You tiptoe across the room, and extract a baseball bat from underneath your side of the bed. You return to Leon’s dresser, reach into the drawer, and silently sheath the length of the bat within one of Leon’s socks. 

There’s shuffling coming from the other room. Heavy boots on hardwood make minimal noise as they creep into—are they in the kitchen? You want to laugh; you’ve never before had a hungry burglar. Cabinets creak open and shut. The fridge door, sticky and always more difficult to open than one would assume because Leon had fucked with its hinges when he was trying to be “helpful”, opens a second later. Its dim yellow light is visible through the crack in the bedroom doorframe. You can faintly see a broad silhouette standing before it. 

Leon’s apartment isn’t large. The bedroom feeds directly into an open plan living room and kitchen. You could use this opportunity to sneak up on the intruder. Judging by their stature, they can’t be too much taller or stronger than you but you’d be foolish to assume you could beat anyone in hand-to-hand. And what if they have a gun? 

You resolve to stay put, to stay hidden. They’re likely to come into the bedroom anyway. You’ll get the jump on them as they enter. You take a deep breath, bat clutched tightly between two hands, and ready yourself behind the door. You’ve never killed anyone before; you hope you won’t have to do so tonight, especially with a bat. That just sounds preposterously messy. 

The fridge door is closed. A plate is dropped in the sink. A stream of curse words are emitted in hushed tones. Your breath hitches at the familiarity of the voice but you shake your head and chalk the resemblance up to your own pathetic optimism. Leon would’ve called. Leon would’ve given you a heads up. Leon would’ve—

The footsteps grow closer. Your heart is practically in your throat. Shit, you curse to yourself, shit shit shit shit shit. You press your back against the wall, bat clutched tightly between white-knuckled fists. You try to make yourself as small as possible, to shrink to the point of imperceptibility, and as the door opens, you hold your breath. 

Your draw blood as you bite the inside of your cheek; its metallic tang inspires waves of nausea. The door slowly closes. You clench your teeth, and flex your taut fingers along the handle of the bat. Your heart is in your throat. The intruder pauses after closing the door, glancing curiously around the room. And just before they’re about to turn around, you bring the bat down over their head. They somehow manage to catch the it before it makes contact. 

“—Wait, stop,” they shout. 

You can hardly hear them over the roaring of blood in your ears. You pull the bat toward you, subsequently unsheathing it and leaving the intruder holding only the makeshift scabbard. You swing it horizontally with as much strength as you can muster. It makes a sickening whack as it collides with the person’s stomach. They stumble backward, one arm wrapped tightly around their abdomen. The other arm is outstretched, in search of something along the wall next to the door. 

And before you’re able to ready a third swing, the lights turn on in the bedroom, and you come to the realization that the intruder isn’t an intruder at all — it’s Leon. 

You gasp and bring your hands to cup your mouth. The bat falls to the ground with a resounding thud. 

“LEON?!” 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he manages to choke out in between retches. He’s heaving; the collision had winded him entirely. He slumps against the wall and slides down to sit on the hardwood flooring. “That was a—that was a good swing.” 

“Leon, oh my god,” you shout, rage replacing your initial shock. “Leon, what the fuck are you doing here?!” 

“It’s my apartment.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, asshole. How are you alive?” 

Leon lets out a labored chuckle and rests his head back on the wall, “Believe it or not, I’m good at my job.” 

“Clearly,” you spit. “Clearly you’re so fucking good at your job that you managed to stay under the radar for two months. I haven’t heard from you in two months, Leon. I thought you were fucking dead.” 

“Which is why I expected a warmer welcome. Fuck me, I guess.” 

The anger flaring in your chest abates as you finally take him in — bruised, battered, bloody, and filthy. His clothes are ripped, his lip is swollen. He must have come straight home, you realize. He hadn’t stopped to so much as sign his name on a report. He won’t look at you—can’t look at you—when your irises hold such ire. You take a few steps toward him, fists curled tightly at your sides. “Yeah, fuck you,” you spit. 

“Fuck you, Leon,” you repeat, voice cracking slightly. 

Tears cascade down your cheeks in fat rivulets now. “Fuck you.”

You collapse to your knees at his feet. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Leon Kennedy.” 

But your tone lacks conviction; syllables spill from your chapped lips in an unprotected free-fall. Your words are slurred, garbled by the tightness in your throat. You grab fistfuls of his shirt, and bury your face in his chest. It’s quickly soaked through, but Leon doesn’t dare move except to gently cradle the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

“You s-should be,” you hiccup. “I thought you were dead.” 

“I know.” 

“I was fucking worried sick.” 

“I know.” 

“I called my mom, Leon. I called my mom, and spoke to her for an hour because I hadn’t heard from you in weeks.” 

“Shit,” Leon chuckles, “that bad, huh?” 

A wet giggle escapes your throat, “Yeah, asshole. That bad.” 

He holds you tightly, sore arms coiled around your shoulders. You want to squirm out of his hold, to recoil at the feel of his calloused hands through the thin t-shirt. You want to revile his absenteeism, his negligence, his indifference. A scream bubbles in your chest, a simultaneous cry of apostasy and piety now that he’s home. The acrid sting of bile kisses the back of your tongue. You choke it back; you choke back your anger, too, because it’s irrelevant now. It’s petulant. It’s ungrateful. 

He’s home. He’s home and he’s holding you. He’s home and he’s holding you and you’re holding him. 

You pull away to look at him more fully, as if in disbelief that this isn’t yet another nightmare. But then the scent from his soiled clothing wafts in your direction as if affirming his existence.

Your nose crinkles as you say, “You smell awful.” 

“Two months in the middle of nowhere will do that to you,” Leon chuckles. 

You inspect his shredded knuckles and the healing gashes along his forearm. “Middle of nowhere do this to you, too?” 

He catches a stray tear with a hooked finger, “Classified, sweetheart. You know that.” 

All you can do is nod. You bite the inside of your cheek. He cups the side of your face, and brings your forehead to meet his. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. “I thought of you every night, if that helps.” 

“It does… and it doesn’t.” 

“You’re fickle.” 

“You’re unreliable.” 

Leon exhales humorously through his nose. “I’m trying my best not to be.” 

“I know,” you whisper. “I know it’s not your fault, too.” 

Leon’s shoulders drop. He swallows thickly, frustration scrabbling for dominance in his aching chest. It doesn’t win out, though, and he clenches his jaw as the tear he’d been suppressing for the better part of his conversation splashes onto his scabbed hand. You kiss away the subsequent tears. He notices the dryness of your lips, but doesn’t mind. You’d been through it — he’d put you through it. His stomach flips at the thought of you writhing in bed at night, at the thought of you weeping into his pillow, utterly alone. 

You stop kissing his tears when they become overwhelming, when he starts sobbing into your shoulder and uses your shirt as a catchall instead. 

“Leon,” you sigh, “Leon, it’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe.” 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he manages to choke out. “I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart.” 

“I know you are. It’s okay. Don’t cry; I’m here.” 

It takes a few minute for Leon to regain his composure but you don’t mind. You’d gladly spend the rest of the night pulling him into your chest, coiling around him like a snake just to ensure that he never left again. You run your fingers through his matted hair, gently untangling the knots riddling his chestnut tresses with each pass. You lightly scratch the nape of his neck. He hugs you more tightly when you do; it’s his favorite. He kisses your neck as a show of gratitude. You refrain from kissing his cheek — it’s coated in a thin layer of dirt. You’ll need to bathe again. Leon’s the first to pull away. 

“You know,” he sniffles, “that’s not what this sock is for.” 

He holds up the sock you’d used to sheath the bat with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“No shit, it’s a sock.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Your brows furrow first in confusion, then in disgust. “God, Leon,” you grimace, pushing at his shoulders.

He wraps his arms around your waist, and works to keep you locked in his embrace. 

“Let me go!” You shout. 

“Were you not just crying because you missed me, sweetheart?” 

“I changed—my mind. Go away—forever,” you giggle between pathetic tries at freedom.

“So fickle,” he laughs. You shriek with laughter as he blows a raspberry into your neck, and tickles your sides. You fall onto your back in your forlorn attempt to escape; he follows suit but he’s unrelenting in his assault. He kneels between your legs, swatting away your taloned hands with ease. His laugh is rich albeit hoarse and gravelly from weeks of overuse; yours is similar in tone. 

Panic rises in your chest as his tickles continue. Your ribs are growing sore, your lungs are screaming for air. In desperation, you prod his stomach with your foot. Thankfully, he takes the hint, and stops. Leon places his hands on your knees. You sit up on your elbows, melting beneath the warmth of his gaze. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you sigh, nodding toward the bathroom with a small smile. 

He reciprocates your smile then helps you onto your feet. His hands don’t leave yours as you walk to the bathroom, or as you start the shower. He lets you undress him, lets you lower yourself onto your knees and make quick work of the laces on his boots. He watches as your fingers furl around the tattered fabric of his compression shirt, gingerly remove his belt, and undo the buttons on his fatigues. You don’t make eyes contact. You don’t think you’d be able to finish without crying if you did. 

Leon’s thankful, of course. He wouldn’t have made it through without crying either. He wasn’t lying when he told you he’d dreamt of you every night. He hadn’t been trying to placate you with empty platitudes — you’d occupied his every thought. 

It had been his most strenuous mission thus far, the most physically and emotionally taxing. Only his horrific sense of humor—your words, not his; he thinks he’s hilarious—and the prospect of coming home to you had kept him alive. Maybe he’d tell you about it someday. Unlikely, but he so desperately wants to share this part of himself with you. He’s sick of walking through the world feeling unknown, like a fraction of a human or wandering specter whose soul is tethered to both realms. 

His fingers find the hem of your—his—t-shirt, and pulls it over your head with aching, uncharacteristic geniality. You step out of your panties, eyes fixed on the extensive bruising along his torso. You run a tentative finger along the length of a particularly deep wound. He suppresses a wince, terrified of worrying you further. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he croaks. “You’re not that strong.” 

You snort. “I should focus upper body next time I’m at the gym then. That way I can give you what you actually deserve.” 

He gives you a soft smile, cupping the nape of your neck. “You wouldn’t prefer that I train you instead?” 

“So I can hear quip after quip about how weak I am? Absolutely not.” 

“Ouch,” he rasps, “you have no faith in me.” 

“None at all.” 

His lips ghost over yours. “Then why is it my name you always scream when we’re having—?” 

“They’re curses, Leon, not prayers,” you sigh.

The nails on Leon’s free hand dig into the plush of your hips. “Right,” he affirms, voice low and gravelly, “they’re curses when you’re on your back, but prayers when you’re on your knees.” 

He walks you back into the glass door of his standing shower. You gasp as your fevered skin makes contact with the cooled glass. He nips your earlobe, and presses gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Then what’ll it be tonight, sweetheart: curses or prayers?” 

“Neither if you don’t get in the shower,” you gasp. “You smell like a fucking sewer.” 

He tosses his head back in laughter. “I’d’ve preferred the sewers in all honesty. But fine,” he kisses your cheek, “I’ll be good and listen.” 

“For once.” 

“Only once,” he confirms, stepping into the steady stream of hot water. His hands find yours once more as you step in after him. His voice soften when he asks, “Don’t let go of me, yeah?” 

“I won’t.” 

Leon hums in approval, his hold on your hands tightening as he closes his eyes. When he’s confirmed that you’re here, you’re present, you’re real and with him, he allows his head to loll back and the water to drench his neglected scalp. 

Your fingers trail up his torso, his chest, his neck, and weave into his hair once more. Your lower lip tucked nervously between your teeth as you usher him out from beneath the shower head. You let go of his hand. His chest rises as a breath gets caught in his throat, and falls once he realizes what you’re doing. 

“I’m going to let go, but just to get the shampoo,” you say. “Ready?” 

He clenches his jaw then nods. It devastates you, how tense he grows in the absence of your touch. You lather the eucalyptus shampoo in your hands. It’s his favorite scent, the only one that soothes him when he returns from missions. You delicately work it into his hair, paying particular attention to the nape of his neck, and his temples. His deft thumbs mirror your ministrations, tracing circles along your pelvic bones. 

“Okay, rinse,” you instruct softly. 

He listens, leaning back into the water. And you repeat this process, not once compromising the fragility with which you slough off the dirt and grime from his tired body. It melts off him like second skin, collecting in muddy puddles around your feet. Once he’s clean, he returns the favor: he lathers minty smelling soap along your arms, your legs, the valley of your breasts. His unoccupied hand trails after the fluffy loofah, kneading your soft skin in grounding, almost as if he’s committing your body to memory. 

You’re cleansed from the pain of the past two months, scrubbed raw and vulnerable and anew by the same hands that had caused it. His marred body tells the most unholy of tales, but you’d done your best to dispel the horrors it had endured. He appreciates it—appreciates you— and the effort you expel to wash away as much of his sins as possible. They’ll never go away, the scars. He wishes they would, wishes he could flush them away as easily as you had scoured the debris and filth from his wounds. They serve as a constant reminder of his culpability, of his part in your misery.

But then you kiss the winding scar tissue bisecting his chest. It had healed improperly, leaving the skin gnarled and warped and puckered at its pink seams. He’d sustained the injury shortly after deployment. He’d worried endlessly about the way you’d react. He’d ruminated on the possibility that you’d reject him, that you’d find him utterly repugnant. He’d mulled over every possibility except this. 

And it nearly does him in. 

His chest collapses the closer your lips come to his heart, and once he feels your gentle kisses settle over the muscle with stinging finality, it collapses, too. He grips your wrists; your hands flex in surprise. 

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“I love you,” he returns, peppering the insides of your wrists with warm kisses. You watch him intently, curiously. He winces as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. Your eyes widen; he strokes the sensitive flesh of your wrist with a calloused thumb in dismissal. 

“Did you hear me,” he asks with a chuckle. “I said I love you.” 

“I know,” you giggle. “I was just making up my mind if I’ll be cursing or praying to you.” 

“Oh? What have you decided?” 

“Wouldn’t you rather me show you?” 

“Absolutely,” he grins. He flinches harshly as he reaches behind him to shut off the water. You grab his waist reflexively, worry grappling at your chest. Leon gives you a sheepish smile. You give him a pointed look in reciprocation before stretching your arm past him, and turning the knob. 

You usher him out of the shower, push past him, and retrieve one of the plush white towels hanging from behind the bathroom door. You dry each other off, unhurried touches taking on different meaning as the towel and curious hands graze over sensitive skin. You let out a small whimper as he cups your breast and his lips leave slow, fevered kisses along the column of your neck. 

“Bed,” you gasp. He hums in approval.

You stumble backward through the bathroom door, body still warm and damp from the shower, but before collapsing onto the bed, you flatten your hand against Leon’s chest. 

“Curses,” you breathe. “But they won’t be mine tonight.” 

He arches an eyebrow in question, so you guide him onto his back in wordless explanation. His eyes soften as realization dawns. 

“Sweetheart—“

“Please let me, Leon. Please.” 

And how could he say no? He can’t very well argue, not when your eyes glitter in supplication and excitement. But he can’t acquiesce to your desires right away. That would be wholly uncharacteristic.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he says with a facsimile of a pout. He places his hands neatly behind his head, and gives you an expectant smile, eyes flicking from your mouth to his half-hardened cock. Your immediate frown dissolves into a warm smile as his breath stutters, shattering the facade. 

You take his length in one hand, and with agonizing care, stroke him from base to tip. He swallows thickly, cock twitching in anticipation. God he’d missed this. He’d missed the feel of your soft hands working him into submission. His eyes flutter shut, breath hitching as your lips find the gruesome scar defacing his muscular chest once again. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Leon,” you whine, hand quickening in its ministrations. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

He hardens in your hands, a sharp juxtaposition to the way his muscles relax the closer your mouth comes to his throat. You suck on the delicate flesh, nip it until it flushes red, then lavish it with apologetic kisses. The love marks you leave behind are meant to compensate for the violence shown to the rest of his body — it desperately needs reminding of how deeply you cherish it. 

You capture his lips with your own, slip your tongue into his mouth and pour as much affection, as much frustration and relief and adoration into it as possible. He returns the action in kind, hands leaving the base of his neck to cup your face. He pulls you closer, kisses you more deeply, and litters your neck with bruises of his own. 

Arousal spreads like spilled sunshine in your lower abdomen, warming you from within. You feel yourself grow damp as he palms your breasts, as he rolls a pert nipple between two fingers. He cups your cunt with his free hand; you can’t help but keen at the contact. 

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he rasps. “Did you touch yourself at all while I was gone?” 

“No,” you admit, heat rising to your cheeks. You whimper as he parts your lips, and coats his finger in your essence. “No, it doesn’t compare.” 

“Damn right it doesn’t,” he groans as you swipe your thumb across the tip of his cock. “Am I going to get to taste you tonight?” 

“Later,” you keen. “For now, just lay back, okay?” 

He doesn’t listen immediately, too reluctant to retract his hand from between your legs. You have to pry him from you, beg for him to let you make your longing known. Smiles spread across both of your faces at the playful struggle that ensues: Leon pinches your nipple, you squeeze his cock, and urge him to lay back by threatening to cease all ministrations until he obliges. He chuckles sweetly as your expression softens, as you resume pumping his length, and trail wet kisses down his torso. 

You bat your eyelashes at him coquettishly as you reach his pelvis, fingernails sinking into the flesh of his thighs. He emits a small grunt of approval, hips bucking in anticipation. His eyes grow glassy, unfocused in his lust for you. He tries to close his eyes but the attempt is met with a sharp nip to his upper thigh. 

“Eyes on me, Leon.” 

He opens his mouth to protest, retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s drowned out by a guttural growl. You drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, eye contact unwavering. You take him in your mouth slowly, inch by inch, the salty tang of his precum sending waves of desire through your system.

Your pace is slow at first, hesitant more than self-assured. It grows quicker as you acclimate to his size. You hadn’t forgotten how large he is — in fact, you’d been looking forward to the day when he’d mold you to himself once again, to the day he’d stretch you so thin you’d see sparks behind your fluttering lids. But your lungs can’t keep up with the pace with which you take him and soon enough, you see the blackened wisps of asphyxiation enter your periphery. You slip a hand between your legs, and rub tight concentric circles along your clit. You use your free hand to compensate for what your mouth can’t reach.

You moan around him as your orgasm builds; he moans in return, savoring the way the sound reverberates through his system. He cradles the back of your head, strokes it lovingly as you take him deeper, deeper, deeper. The coil in his stomach tightens — he’s so close. He can tell you’re close, too, based on the arrhythmic tempo with which you take him.

An overwhelming need to take you, to hold you, to make you his once again grapples at his chest. It had been so long since he’d had you, so long since he’d showered you with praise and affection. He feels his consciousness slipping, mind growing fuzzy as his arousal reaches a fever pitch. He wants to tell you to keep going; he need to tell you to stop. But his words come out as garbled nonsense the more you tighten your lips around his length and the more you hollow out your cheeks.

Unable to control himself much longer, he thrusts up into you. You’re taken aback, gagged as the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You give him a warning glare, pausing halfway down his cock, tears pricking the inner corners of your eyes. He could come from the heat of your scowl alone. 

“S-sorry,” he chuckles as the fog slowly lifts, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.

He sits up to caress the back of your head. You mirror his posture, removing his cock from your mouth to press your forehead to his. He’s mesmerized by the way your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath. 

“I just… didn’t think we’d get the chance to do this again,” he whispers through a choked sob.

And you heart shatters. You take his face in your hands. Tears threaten to spill forth, threaten to snuff out the heat building between your legs, but the gentility with which he holds you, the heaviness of his breathing, the ease with which he sweeps you onto his lap, stokes the fire nonetheless. 

“I need you,” he whispers, “I need to feel you. Please.”

“You have me, Leon,” you keen, softly rolling your hips along his length. “You have me. I’m here. Let me take care of you.” 

You readjust to straddle him more wholly, knees caging in his eager hips. You roll your hips gently along his length, coating him in your essence. His head slumps forward into your breasts. You stroke his hair. 

“I love you, Leon. I love you so much.” 

“God,” he rasps, “God, I fucking love you, too, sweetheart.” 

He admires the way the plush skin along your hips bubbles beneath his grip. You’re so soft, so sweet, so lush and comforting. His chapped lips latch onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, stifling a lascivious moan. Leon urges you to keep moving, keep gyrating along his aching cock. You’re happy to oblige, meeting the steady pace he’s setting with his hands. 

“Inside me, baby,” you gasp, “I want you inside me.” 

Leon lifts your hips just long enough to align the head of his cock with your entrance. Your hold on his hair tightens as you feel him push the tip inside, You clench your teeth, and shut your eyes in anticipation, only to receive a sharp, playful slap to you ass. You glare down at him, eyes alight with indignation, mouth agape. 

“I need your eyes open, sweetheart,” he growls, tightening his hold on your hips. “I want you to look at me while you fuck me. And I promise—,” he bucks his hip up into yours, “that I”ll return the favor.” 

You let out a filthy moan as Leon thrusts his cock into you. Your cunt is so tight, so wet after two months of neglect. He slips right in, from tip to base, without much struggle. But the dampness of your cunt and the depths of your arousal don’t negate the blinding pleasure you feel from being stretched to your breaking point. You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, you pull at his hair, you try to cling to something—to anything—in a desperate attempt to stay grounded. But through it all, you don’t dare break eye contact. You don’t dare look away from his darkening irises — once a startling blue, now a deep, sensual indigo. You don’t dare deny him the opportunity to watch you come undone.

“Leon,” you keen. “Fuck, Leon, it’s s-so much.” 

You press your forehead to his again, and work to match his bruising pace. He takes one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and lapping at your pert nipple while he watches your pupils widen. 

You’re so stunning like this, he thinks, so sweet when your lips have turned a startling crimson, swollen from his kisses. And he can’t help the elation rising in his chest when you moan his name or when your pussy, dripping with arousal, tightens around his cock. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, the only one who could bring this out of you, and that knowledge nearly sends him over the edge. 

White spots blossom in your vision the head of his cock kisses your cervix. You grind on him. You gyrate and bounce and roll your hips in your frantic search for release. His cock twitches within you. His grip becomes bruising. His thrusts sputter. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “Fuck your pussy feels so good. God, I’ve fucking missed this pussy so much.” 

It’s all so much messier than usual, so much less rehearsed. You’d both fallen out of practice, and it’d be dishonest for you to say that you aren’t the smallest bit relieved. The way he fucks you feels primal, carnal, like a deep-seated hunger that has long demanded satiation. It’d been a while since you’d both felt this desperate for release. 

He sucks at your neck. You toss your head back to grant him further access. 

“Leon—fuck— Leon, I’m going to—“ 

“Do it, baby, come on my cock. Please fucking come on my cock.” 

And you’re swathed in rolling waves of euphoria. Realty splinters, your consciousness is swallowed in brilliant pyrotechnics as your orgasm crashes down around you. Leon wraps his arms around you instinctively, allowing you go to limp in his embrace. He fucks you through your climax, relishes the way his name spills from your lips in fragmented syllables. Before you’re able to come to, Leon flips you onto your back. 

You coil your legs around his waist, and your fingers find purchase on the slats of your headboard before he drives his cock into you. You let out a sinful moan on impact. Leon reaches between your legs. He pressurizes your clit, rubs tight circles with a calloused finger, and the friction in tandem with the unrelenting bucking of his hips catapults you straight into another shattering orgasm. 

Leon’s not too far behind. It takes a few more strokes, long and deep, for him to come undone and when he does, he swears he’s never felt pleasure quite like it. An immeasurable sense of peace washes over him as he feels your cunt tighten around him, as he feels you pull him to your chest and pepper his cheeks with loving kisses. The feel of your hands, of your lips, of your heartbeat pounding against the thin walls of your chest is akin to heaven. 

“Leon,” you cry, “Leon, Leon, Leon.”

An incantation. A promise. A psalm recited at his altar. A hymn sung between a smattering of kisses.

His name is symphonic as it leave your mouth, grounding as it tethers him back to this plane, this apartment, this bed. He’s so underserving of your love. He’s so undeserving of your patience and kindness — he’s learned that long ago— but he’d be damned if he ever gave it up for anything.

Leon manages to regain lucidity long enough to remove himself from between your thighs, and lay on the empty side of the bed—his side of the bed. It’s cold, he realizes, colder than he’d ever remembered it being. But before sadness can burrow into his bones once more, you envelope him in a disarmingly warm embrace. 

He hugs you to him, kisses your temple, your cheeks, your lips, and audibly laments over all of the nights you’d spent apart. 

“It’s okay,” you placate. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” 

“I know,” he whispers between kisses, “I know.” 

He kisses away the tears that fall from your tired eyes. You manage to say, “I love you so much.” 

“I love you more,” he croaks, choking back tears of his own.

Silence befalls the bedroom once more, but for the first time in a long time, it does’t unsettle you. You take comfort in the slowness of Leon’s breathing, in the slowed beating his heart. You nuzzle into his neck. He lightly scratches your back, and traces hearts and stars with dull nails. 

“So,” he says after a period of comfortable silence, “those didn’t sound like curses to me.” 

Your snort in amusement. “They sure as hell weren’t prayers.” 

“Weren’t you on your knees for most of them, though?” 

You smack his shoulder playfully, and giggle as he pulls you closer to his chest. 

“Fine, they’re prayers” you acquiesce. “Though I don’t know what I’d be praying for now you’re home.” 

“I didn’t know you prayed at all.” 

“I don’t,” you state flatly, “But I… I’d’ve done anything if it meant you coming home safe.” 

He clenches his jaw, and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m home now. And I don’t think I’ll be leaving again any time soon.” 

You sit up at that, “Really?” 

Leon melts at the optimism in your tone. He guides you back onto his lap gently, delicately as though you were made of glass. The kiss he places on your lips is sweet, docile, genial, so unlike the hunger with which he’d ravished you before. 

“Really,” he affirms, smiling into another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling exuberantly at the possibility of having Leon to yourself for an indiscriminate amount of time You start to make a mental checklist of the new restaurants that you’d discovered in the past two months, the pop ups and farmers markets that had taken root in his absence. But your planning is disrupted as Leon’s half-hardened cock grinds up into your cunt. You gasp as its head grazes against your swollen clit. 

“Have I told you how much I missed you?” He whispers in a voice so husky, so rough that it shoots arousal straight through your core. 

God, you’ve missed him, too. 

Yandere Kakashi impregnating ophaned female student so they drop put of the ninja program and become his cute little house wife

tw: dub/noncon, age difference, manipulation, power imbalance, breeding, impregnation, domestication

All characters depicted are 18+

Kakashi usually doesn't get too invested in his students, seeing it as dangerous to become too close with someone who could die in battle anyday, but when Kakashi gets a student that is not only adorable, but has no parents or family to depend on for guidance, Kakashi becomes very invested in this cute little student of his.

He wants to take advantage of her almost right away, and worming his way into the life of someone as vulnerable as an orphaned young adult isn't very difficult, not to mention he's able to use his position as her teacher to get her alone without drawing much suspicion.

Kakashi will start off slow, taking her to his home under the guise of a private training lesson, eventually sitting her down on his bed and beginning to touch her body over her clothes while complimenting her curves and her cute face.

She's obviously uncomfortable with his advances towards her, but Kakashi is easily able to talk her into things, using the lack of affection she's had throughout her life to manipulate her into allowing what he's doing. But regardless of her answer, he's taking what he wants anyway.

"Don't worry, this is a normal thing for teachers to do... now be a good little student and let me give you a nice, long anatomy lesson..."

Once he eases himself inside of her, he'll start moving, thrusting his cock in and out of her virgin cunt while she squirms and writhes underneath his bigger body, occasionally whispering words of comfort and encouragement when she's struggling too much to take him fully.

He's definitely going to cum inside of her, and multiple times at that. Kakashi wants to make sure that she belongs to him forever, and the best way to ensure that is to fill her up and make her carry his babies.

It'll take him hours before he's finally done with her, tucking her fucked out and barely conscious form into his bed and letting her rest before making the arrangements to have her removed from the Shinobi program, there's no place for a pregnant woman in such a dangerous profession after all.

Once she's broken settled into her new life as his submissive housewife, he'll keep giving her "lessons", since he wants to ensure that she'll stay happy and obedient, and he'll be able to get off whenever he wants by using her as a means to do so.

"Good girl! See? I told you this would be an easy lesson. I'm sure you'll make a good little mommy for our children, won't you..?"

Kakashi enjoys his new life with his adorable little housewife, he finds it troublesome to do cooking and chores after missions, so luckily he can rely on her for all those girly things from now on.

fav concubine trying to top but sukuna is... sukuna so he fucks her full nelson <3

𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. trying to show lord sukuna that you can indeed top him in bed ends up backfiring almost immediately & results in you nearly passing out.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. size difference. full nelson position. degredation. objectification. mention of (almost) passing out. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl, woman.’ beta read? nope

“i can do it, my lord,” you huff stubbornly. you don’t know where you got the courage from to be so assertive tonight. maybe it’s because of sukuna’s earlier words—those mocking words that he uttered to get a rise out of you. or to see you scared, perhaps.

‘y’re gonna need to do a lot more to keep me entertained, doll. gonna get bored of ya if y’ don’t.’

the sentences repeat in your head like a never ending chant. on one hand, you know sukuna was simply trying to play with your emotions, but on the other hand, you’re afraid that there might be some truth to his words. so, you take up the challenge.

“y’ can’t do shit, little girl,” sukuna rolls his eyes as he sees you climb onto his lap. his thick thighs are spread, his broad back against the headboard of the bed.

he doesn’t even try helping you like he usually does, with his hands guiding your hips. if you’re stubborn enough to try and top the king of curses out of all people, you’re going to get minimal help.

“yes i can,” you mumble with a sense of uncertainty in your voice. you’ve never really done any of this. you’re usually on the receiving end, having sukuna easily move and bend your body however he sees fit. you’ve never imagined being in his place, “just watch me, my lord.”

you’re desperate to please him. you’re scared to lose your position as his favorite. you let the words get to your head—just like sukuna expected. the fact that you’re so gullible makes him stifle a condescending laugh.

“all ‘m seeing is you struggling to ride me,” the tall man clicks his tongue and his eyes lazily watch your attempts to sink down on his two, hard and dripping cocks. the contact his leaking tips makes with your cunt is enough to make sukuna grunt.

he’s trying hard to not slam you down on him fully. he’s used to take control—too used to it. seeing you struggle to even start is making him impatient.

“i-i’ll get it eventually, my lord,” you hiccup, nervous because of the fact that you’re topping such a huge man. he’s staring at you menacingly, all his arms crossed over his chest. your hips tremble as you slide one of his cocks into your warm pussy, both of you hissing at the direct contact.

you try to fit the other in the same hole, but you simply cannot handle it at the moment. his upper dick slips right out and bumps against your clit instead. you clumsily fumble with the same one, trying to make place for it in your cunt.

sukuna can’t hold it in anymore. having you clamping down on one of his massive cocks, his girth stretching your small canal to fit all of it to the base and your face contorting in both discomfort and pleasure is making him lose it. “this isn’t gonna work. need to fuck you properly, doll.”

you’re not even one minute in and he’s yanked your small body off his lap, forcefully turning you around until your back is pressed against his chest and your head is rolled back to rest near his shoulder. sukuna’s upper hands hold your legs up by the back of your knees. his bottom set of hands wrap around his cocks and pushes one through your sensitive cunt whilst he fists the other.

“fff— mhhh! my lord! nonono,” you tear up. partially because the sudden intrusion hurts your insides and the stretch is unexpected, but mainly because you’re scared that sukuna’s angry with you. you don’t wish to lose his interest in you, “i’m sorry, let me try again.”

the king of curses slaps your clitoris harshly after that comment of yours. “that a demand? foolish woman,” he scoffs and his hips thrust upwards against the fat of your ass. squelchy noises fill the chambers and spill outside of the room—it’s loud. the bed creaking is unmissable as well with how fast he’s pounding you.

sukuna bites into your shoulder and holds back his grunts like that. he’s relentless, drilling into your cunt so hard that you’re getting numb. your body is limp in his beefy arms and your rationality leaves your mind. you’re more than overwhelmed.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you whine and try to babble about something, but it’s all incoherent. you’re feeling lightheaded due to how much you’re taking of him. it feels amazing, soul ascending, but your emotions are in the way. even when you try not to show any attachment to the man you swore not to like.

sukuna ignores your pleas. his focus is on your slutty cunt swallowing every inch of his lower dick like its nothing. you’re used to it—he’s made you used to it—and somehow you’re still as tight as the first time. that and your submission to him is exciting. your adorable noises. the form of your body as it fits perfectly against his like you’re made for him.

you are made for him. your purpose is to please him, submit to him and give him what he deserves. that’s why he keeps you around.

“stop y’r whining,” sukuna grumbles. your knees are forced up against your ears and your tits are bouncing with each harsh thrust. “y’r a dumb fucking thing,” the king of curses presses down on the bottom of your stomach, increasing the pleasure for you, whilst also pleasing himself by knowing how deep you’re taking him, “do you think ‘m actually going to let you go?”

your eyes widen as sukuna picks up on your internal worries. you know there’s no hiding your feelings from him, even if you don’t talk about them to him. it’s like he can sense them. or see right through you with those piercing red eyes that leave you shivering for days.

“y’re too delicious to let go of. i don’t intend on letting anyone else get a taste of this pussy,” sukuna smirks and his tongue rolls out to lick your left ear. you gasp at the feeling and moan right after. you don’t try being quiet. you don’t care if anyone hears you. the reassurance was all you needed.

everyone around the estate knows you’re getting your guts rearranged by the same lord they serve. it’s the same routine every day.

“y’re mine,” sukuna grumbles and speeds up his thrusts until you’re seeing stars. you’re not sure if you can hold out for much longer. you can already feel your orgasm building up—and judging by sukuna’s tight grip on your thighs—he’s close to emptying himself deep inside you as well.

you try your best to keep up with everything, but your human mind can only focus on so much at once. you mumble some words in agreement as your head tilts to the side, your vision turning blurry and fuzzy, “all yours, m’lord.”

sukuna grins mischievously. he’s completely won you over. he’s got you wrapped around his finger. you’re easy, even if you think you’re the complete opposite. the skilled curse knows just what to say to make you all putty in his hands.

you’re gullible. easily manipulated. a perfect target for his mockery and teasing. that’s why he always has fun with you—whether it’d be in bed or not. his comment earlier was just to mess with you.

and expected, you walked right into his trap. you’re his favorite. his favorite to play around with. his favorite human.

“all mine. only mine.”

The Perfect Date

Gamer!Tomioka x Fem!Reader

Happy Birthday Giyu!

10k Words

Sfw Warnings: Gamers in love, you meet at a Cafe, strangers to friends to lovers, cat loving, Shinobu is a wingman

Nsfw Warnings: Suggestive comments, sexual pining, sexual tension, seduction, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, cockwarming

Not many people got to befriend their idol streamer, but you supposed you were lucky. Even if you wanted to be so much more.

Keep reading