kyougan

His interjection prompts you to look up from the pages you’re not reading, 

“Really, it’s nothing.” 

“Put that book down and tell me what you just read.” 

That’s the beautiful thing about being married to a super secret agent-spy-man. Nothing falls under his radar, and he knows exactly how to make you open up…in more ways than one. 

“Fine, you got me,” you relent finally, setting the book down, too wanton to care about marking the page you turned to without even reading the one before it. “I can’t focus because I’m too distracted thinking about how you’d look tied to that chair.” The words pour out in a frantic spill, like oil in the ocean, before you can keep them at bay. Too destructive, too sticky. Too much of a mess to bother cleaning. 

Shit. 

Leon’s eyes grow wide, wider than you’ve ever seen them before, and you’ve watched all three Insidious movies with him. They can get real big. 

And then he chuckles. 

“You beast,” you choke, throwing your book at him with as much might as you can muster. It barely makes a dent in the barrel of his chest, the one that’s heaving up and down as another rumble of laughter rolls through him. “Don’t laugh.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he amends, conjuring up enough strength to fix his face back to its usual serious mug. Sucking in a deep breath, he pinches his brows, leaning forward. “You want to tie me up?” 

“Yes,” you mumble, too bashful to meet his gaze. 

“And do what?” A smirk returns to his face, reigniting your zeal. 

“I don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” 

He huffs an amused puff of air through his nostrils, and leans back, crossing his arms. There’s still a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. You want to kiss it off, or slap it off, or both. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m down.” 

I’m down. Famous last words.

He revisits them in his head, on his tongue, as he sits in one of the breakfast table chairs, with his hands cuffed behind the rigid wooden spindles flush to his back. 

When he came home from work this evening, he thought you would have forgotten. Hell, he almost did after the day he had. Stacks and stacks of intel to review, of reports to write. His hand ached from taking notes, the grip of his pen still indented into the skin of his fingers. 

But you hadn’t forgotten. 

In fact, you had gone out and bought the damned things, and they aren’t flimsy. 

He squirms against the icy metal cuffs clamped down onto his wrists, his shoulders rolled against the ledge of his chair, his arms awkwardly pulled back. You’ve been teasing him for what feels like an hour, and his limbs have long gone numb. His dick started screaming for release five minutes into your little tirade, and hasn’t stopped since. 

“Just put me out of my misery,” he groans, tilting his head back. 

You’re dressed in a black silk slip, little triangles of lace webbed between the slits cut on either side of your thighs. It’s simple enough to titillate, but doesn’t eclipse your beauty, the one enhanced, not hidden by the way you’re wearing your hair, and the makeup glittering your face. What a sight to see, he thinks. If only you were the one standing above him every time he found himself in this position out in the field. At least you brush your teeth. And you’re pretty. 

“So pretty.” 

“What was that?” You ask innocently as you open your legs to straddle his lap. His hips buck beneath you, grinding his erection against your bare pussy, chasing that relief like it’s a kite swept up by the sky, its tail dangling just beyond his reach. He can feel your arousal soaking the crotch of his cargo pants, dampening the fabric right above the length of him. The cool sensation against his skin elicits a gasping moan from his throat. 

“You’re so pretty,” he coos under his breath, looking up at your face above him. Flushed cheeks and plump lips. He’d like to kiss those. But you have other plans. 

You trace the width of his mouth with the pointed tip of your tongue, sliding your pink muscle back and forth across his lips. “Is that your way of buttering me up? Think I’m gonna stop just because you gave me a compliment?” 

He shakes his head adamantly, the heads of his brows knitting together as he closes his eyes. “Would never.” The words come out weak and lifeless. 

“Good boy. Didn’t think so.” 

You stand up, removing yourself from his lap and his eyes shoot open. “Wait, no,” he whimpers, straining against the cuffs behind him as he attempts to reach up and catch you with his lips. “Come back. Need more.” 

“Oh, I bet you do.” 

His head hangs in defeat. 

“Please, baby,” he begs. “Enough of this.” 

An hour. You’ve been torturing him for an hour. The on-and-off touches, this never-ending cycle of you riding him, licking him, pumping him in your hand, luring him to the cusp of his climax, then retreating altogether and zipping his pants back up so all he can do is grow against the rigid fabric. 

You giggle, the twinkling sound enough to remind him what he’s working toward here. The sound of your breathy gasps in his ear as he pleasures you over and over. It’s normal and sweet. Nothing like this grotesque display of cruelty. Maybe he’s being dramatic. And maybe he likes it. He sure as hell isn’t gonna tell you if he does, lest you get the idea in your head to do this again.

His poor heart can’t take it.

“Not yet,” you say, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. “I’m having too much fun.” 

“Well I’m in pain,” he spits out in a deep roar, bringing his face back up so your eyes can meet his. They’re tucked in a nest of fine lines and purple half-moons, whites mottled with thin, red veins. The poor man looks so tired, the sight tugging at your heart strings. Oh how you’d love to heal him with your body like you always do, bring some life back into those beautiful eyes of his. “You’re hurtin’ your old man.” 

He’s surprised he can still get it up after an eternity of this tug-of-war. But alas, he’s hard once more. You salivate at the sight of his cock as you unzip his pants again, and free it from his briefs, soaked with your juices and the anticipation that has been leaking from his head. He nearly whines at the feeling of the cool air conditioning on his hot skin. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans as you straddle him once more, grinding yourself down onto his lap. You don’t let him see or hear the way you hiss at the sensation of his throbbing cock gliding against your wet cunt, hiding yourself in the crook of his neck, planting a few kisses on the pebbled skin there. 

He curses as you tip-toe your fingers down his chest, the line of his abdomen, to grab him in your fist and slide the tip of his cock past your entrance. His girth stretches your hole to its limits, the gush of arousal dripping from you doing nothing to sate the burn.

You pull back just enough to give him a long, languorous kiss on the lips, luring his tongue into a waltz. The two of you continue to kiss as you sit down on his full length, and he moans into your mouth, the vibration tickling your lips.

“You gonna let me finish this time?” He asks, pulling back to look up at you. There’s nothing but pure, unadulterated need contorting the features of his face. Such a big, commanding man as he is and yet he’s nothing but putty melting in your hand. So pathetic. 

“If you beg.” 

And it's not as though you're blind to what he does for a living, and you're not so obtuse as to not know why he refuses to rough house with you. Still, you thought he'd make an exception for the sake of your sex life. 

"Please?"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm not comfortable with it." 

And you let it go, willing yourself to be content with 'making love', the Leon way. 

Needless to say, you're surprised when, one night, as the two of you are tangled in the sheets, glued together by sweet sweat and saliva, Leon asks you to choke him. 

"What?" You beg for confirmation, sure you must have misheard him--certain that his words were insincere, just something shouted out among the throws of ecstasy, not to be heeded. 

"Choke me," he commands, gasping for air as pleasure rolls through his body like thunder. When you hesitate, your hips stalling on top of him, he grabs your wrist, manually placing your hand around his neck, pressing your thumb and pointer fingers into his throat until the skin around it turns white. “Keep riding me.” 

“Uh, okay,” you mumble, hips resuming. It doesn’t take you long to catch up to the rising heat of your interrupted pleasure, and once you find it, your hand almost instinctively tightens around Leon’s neck. Your fingers dig into the sinew beneath his skin as you grind against him, your clit catching on his pelvis. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he says in a strangled breath. “Tighter.” 

“Tighter?” You ask meekly, the question punctuated by an uncertain gasp. 

“Tighter,” he groans, and you obey, hardening your grip. His eyes screw shut and his hips jolt beneath you, thigh shaking. The tendons in his neck tense beneath your fingers. “Hit me.”

You don’t dare ask him to repeat himself, and it’s not like you have a chance to before your arm raises and your palm comes down across his face. Once the red mark on his cheek starts to wane, he glances up at you from beneath cinched brows, his eyes wide. You can’t quite decipher the expression on his face, whether he’s wounded by the fact you actually hit him, or desperation for you to do it again. 

“Keep choking me. I’m–fuck–I’m so close.”

Typically, Leon waits for you to finish before he finally lets himself chase his own release. 

Not tonight though. Not when your hand is around his throat, applying an amount of pressure of which you never imagined yourself to be capable. Not when the sharp sting across his cheek bleeds into sweet pleasure. 

Thanks to many long conversations with friends and too many sleepless nights contemplating it, you finally made the decision to do it. Were you going to regret it? No, absolutely not. In fact, you’ve been wanting to do this, everyone has been trying to convince you, and you kept daydreaming about what it would look like if you did. This was not the year for what-if’s. This was the year of do’s.

You finally made an appointment to get a tattoo.

It was certainly not worth all this hype and only probably a fraction of the struggle, but there was always an apprehension when doing something new, especially something like this, that was putting you in a totally different environment than what you were used to. Along with their pushing you to finally book something, your friends were as helpful as they could be:

“I swear it only hurts while you’re sitting there. It’s also not even that bad! It’s like a long scratch.”

“It only seems scary because it's sterile there. It’s clean for a reason! They are there to tattoo you, don’t be afraid of them.”

“Just ignore all the noises, you can ask them to put your headphones in, they won’t care. Whatever you are comfortable with.”

And sure, it helped, but as you sat in front of the tattoo shop, windows blacked out with a one-way privacy screen, American Traditional art peppering the windows and shop sign, you couldn’t fight that tiny pit of worry that was starting to knot tighter and tighter.

The shop was nearby and was recommended by a friend who was among the many trying to get you to bite the bullet. They had been there many times and had nothing but great things to say about those running it and the artists they employed. And you had seen the work on their body, too; you knew they weren’t lying about quality. They had to practically force you to DM the Instagram account to book by opening it themselves on your phone and hitting the ‘message’ button. Sometimes, handholding is the only way to do nerve wracking things.

The artist whose DM’s you now reviewed in the car before you finally worked up the courage to go inside was named Leon. They were one of the many accounts affiliated with the shop and the one you had been directed to the most, and, again, quality doesn’t lie. Leon’s art was incredible, his range of styles was mindblowing, you wondered why they even had any other artists working there at all. 

When you had (overly politely) inquired about booking with Leon, his answers were curt but not unkind. He asked what you wanted (you had scrolled through endless files of his flash sheets and available art he could do), he asked you where you wanted it (you had been convinced the thigh wouldn’t hurt as bad as some of the other spots you had considered), and told you a time and a date. It only happened to be three weeks out, which was shocking to even you, for someone as talented and probably booked as Leon was. Nonetheless, you snagged it, and now here you were, those last three weeks having flown by as if it had only been one night away.

Taking that final leap and swallowing all the nerves simmering just under the surface, you pushed your car door open and walked up to the shop.

Pulling the door open, you were affronted by two things immediately: one, the sterility was no joke. You could smell the saline and cleaning products in the air, and though the walls were dotted with the work of the artists and a glowing neon sign of the shop’s name, the decor was very minimal, and it almost felt like a hospital waiting room. Two, looking at the people that were scattered about either tattooing or receiving the tattoo, you stood out. 

You knew it wasn’t odd for someone like you to be in a tattoo shop, but it obviously turned heads nonetheless. The small area of waiting chairs and the reception booth to check in created a divide in the room, but past that, there were a smattering of artists stations in a big open room, some closed with folding dividers, some open and empty. 

At a station closest to the door, there was a man lying on his stomach getting a back tattoo observing you, arms already littered with dark ink. The artist looked the same, both sleeves and a pant leg of tattoos on him, bald head with tribal swirls etched into the skin. At a station in the middle of the room, another man was getting something done on his bicep, silver hoops in his ears glittering under the LEDs and jingling when he turned his head to the artist. A soft soundtrack of metal played over the speakers, mixing with the buzz of the tattoo machines going back and forth over their canvas.

You looked down and fidgeted with your hands in your lap, trying to keep your wandering eyes away, overly self-conscious that it was going to make you look inexperienced (which, you were, of course, but they didn’t need to know).

“Hey, I’ll be with you in a couple minutes.”

You looked up toward the voice coming from behind the reception desk. A man stood there looking down at the computer, but no doubt talking to you, the only patron waiting.

Your mouth spoke before your brain could catch up, making you stumble over the simplest of responses. “Uh, okay.”

You hoped to every higher power in existence that this man was not Leon.

He stood somewhere around six feet; broad, muscular shoulders pulling taught the cotton long sleeve he had on, rolled up to the elbows, forearms surprisingly bare, yet veins ran down long lengths of muscle. His hair was parted to the side, wisps falling into his face, a dusty brown interwoven with occasional grays. His stubble matched the same color scheme. Though he was not looking at you, you could just barely make out the sharp, unmuddled bone structure, a man touched by the gods in his design, surely.

This could not be your artist, it couldn’t be. How were you supposed to keep your calm when that man would have his hands on you? Your adrenaline was already peaking, the last thing you needed was a handsome artist to take care of you and have your mind wandering while in his chair.

You sighed and looked down again, wondering why you needed that tattoo just so damn bad.

You heard your name ring out, loud and firm. You looked up at the man who was now looking back at you.

Keep it fucking together.

“Oh, yes, that’s me.” You shifted sideways, unsure if you should stand or not.

“Cool. I’m Leon.” Fuck. “I’m just printing a couple sizes of the design you had liked, so, just hang out another minute and then I’ll have you come back with me.”

You nodded, unable to stop your fists clenching out of nervousness, now for more than one reason.

You wished your friend could have warned you about how handsome Leon was. There were no photos of him to be seen on his Instagram page, only his art being showcased. You supposed it didn’t really matter much to those being tattooed as they weren’t there to be wooed by him, but rather… to be tattooed.

And, in any other normal circumstance, you probably would not have been weak in the knees so easily by him, but the combination of doing something so intimate with the particular dry streak you were running with… well, it didn’t exactly make for the most ideal of situations.

You snuck a sly glance over at Leon as you heard the printer at the front spit out multiple pieces of paper and watched as he walked over and gathered them, leaning over to the computer once more, then leaving the desk entirely, standing between you and the large room with the taunting tattoo equipment.

“Alright, come on back with me and we can get you started.”

You stood up on unstable legs and crossed the threshold, following Leon to a station all the way to the back.

It was quite simple compared to the others in here; the chair sat in front of a set of plain black cabinets, no art or stickers on any of the doors, the counter was clean, the rolling tray was neat with new plastic wrap secured tight on its surface. Leon sat down in a small rolling chair and gestured for you to sit behind him. You hopped up onto it, watching his back as he cut out the designs.

“I’ve got three different sizes here, but if any of them still aren’t good I can either tweak the design manually or I can go and print another one, but we’ll see what works first.” He turned back towards you holding them out in his hands. “Looks like a small difference, but you’ll be able to tell when it's on you.” He stood again now, towering over you in your sitting position. He placed the designs on the chair next to you before circling your seat, pulling closed the slatted dividers for privacy.

“And with a lack of decorum I promise I usually do have, go ahead and take your pants off and we can get started.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this, and despite how often he probably used that line with the smooth delivery, you couldn’t help the twist that formed in your gut at hearing it. When a handsome man tells you to take your pants off, your body works quickly to obey. 

Bringing himself back onto the swivel stool in front of you, you remained standing and he diverted his attention to holding the stencils up on the blank canvas of your skin. Despite seeing it coming, you couldn't help but slightly jump at the contact of his gloved hand and your skin. You hoped he didn’t notice, but you doubted it with how intently he was studying his designs against your thigh.

Throughout the few minutes of figuring out which stencil fit best, he had you face the mirror and held up different ones so you were able to decide which one suited you. To be honest, you thought they all looked the same, but you went with the biggest one, liking the way it filled up your blank skin, hoping it would give you the courage needed in the future to continue returning for more ink.

The buildup was finally coming to a close and the purple outline was delicately marking your prepped skin, you were scared to even move in fear of smudging it. Per Leon’s instruction, you sat back onto the chair and reclined so he had full access to where he would be working.

Panic was creeping back in a bit now; it had subsided temporarily with having to deal with your unfairly gorgeous tattoo artist, but now that he was about to begin his craft, you could feel your muscles start to lock in anticipation.

Leon’s hand made it back over to your thigh, one resting right atop, the other fumbling around doing god knows what on the tray he had rolled closer to work off of. A quick glance over earlier informed you of a cap full of ink, the machine wrapped with grip tape, and a popsicle stick of what looked like a petroleum jelly of sorts, but it did nothing to quell the fear. In fact, knowing probably made it worse.

“Nervous?”

Leon’s deep voice scared you out of your reverie for a quick moment, and you lolled your head over to the side to look over at him. Big mistake–he was peeking over at you from under his fringe, sporting a small smirk, undoubtedly due to your innocence in this situation.

“Uh… a bit.”

“I can tell.” He squeezed your thigh with his hand, and you were all too aware of the size and heat radiating even through the glove. This was going to be a long session. “Try your best to loosen up your muscles. I promise it doesn’t hurt as bad as you are expecting.”

You took a deep breath in, trying as hard as you could to do as Leon said and to ignore the way the buzzing was louder than ever in your ear as he fired it up. His other hand stayed firmly on your leg, and you were almost glad he did that, with his touch aiding as a distraction to avert focus from your main stressor.

“Just breathe.” 

You closed your eyes and waited for the impact, expecting some mind-blowing levels of pain that you had never experienced before. At least, that’s all you had to go on with the way your family spoke about tattoos growing up at their best attempt to ever dissuade you from getting one by instilling a deep fear of pain. You swore you heart was about to jump out of your chest, you felt movement from Leon as he leaned closer, resting his arm against the edge of the chair, brought the tattoo machine closer and closer—

Oh. That’s it.

You exhaled all you were holding when the sensation you began to feel was nothing more than thousands of miniscule pricks along your skin. The buzzing was basically the worst part of it, it was masking out any other sounds happening around you, but paired with the dull pokes you were receiving, it was oddly… relaxing.

“Not that bad, right?” Leon looked over at you for a second as he turned back to the tray to refill for another pass.

You shook your head, steadying yourself once more with a deep breath. “No, I was expecting a lot worse. I mean… I’ve heard it was way worse but my friends were telling me otherwise. I guess I should listen to people who have actually been tattooed before…” 

Leon was silent but not in a rude way as he listened and went back to tattooing. You knew you shouldn’t distract him, but your brain was wandering now with the rhythm of the needles punching your skin and the buzz from the machine being almost meditative. You couldn’t see too much of anything; Leon’s plain booth was in front of you, so there was no art for you to explore while you laid there. The dividers he had set for privacy blocked your view of the rest of the shop, unable to see what other artists there had to offer. Leon had his head down, hair blocking his side profile as he was deep in work, giving all his attention to putting the best art possible on your body. You zoned out for a while, deciding to let your body rest rather than engage in more screen time.

Eventually, Leon spoke up again, actually startling you while you became zen.

“Try and shift your leg to the left a bit here…” He gently guided you in the direction he needed you to face. You followed suit, and tapped you once to signal you were in position. “I’m going to be doing this part of the design that goes a bit closer to your inner thigh here, so it might hurt just a bit more than the top.”

You nodded, anticipation returning as you braced yourself. He didn’t lie–it was a bit more painful than the top of your thigh, but you could handle it now that you had sat through at least an hour of the feeling. It pinched slightly harder at the tender skin on the inside, making you wince, but steady breathing and listening to the repeated motion of the machine brought you back down.

By the time the session was over, you had lost track of time and were surprised to see the sun had set already, making you wonder if you had actually fallen asleep in the chair and Leon was too kind to wake you up.

He finished you off by gently rubbing a paper towel dampened with solution along the design, wiping off any leftover ink that hadn’t been embedded in your skin and applying a saniderm on top of it. Thorough care instructions were both spoken and written down on a sheet he handed to you on the way out.

Stapling a care sheet together with a business card on top, he handed it to you over the counter. “Care is super easy, but if you forget what I told you, just refer to what's in here.” You took it from him, leafing through it. “But, if you have any issues, reach out. Don’t be afraid to. You can get to me through where we set the appointment up.” You nodded, ready to thank him and leave, but he kept going. “Seriously, I stress that part because if there’s something that pops up like blowout or an infection, I’d like to know as soon as possible. If I do the work I’ll do my best to remedy the situation.”

You nodded and smiled at him again. “I really appreciate that. I can’t imagine any artist not wanting to take that approach.”

He quirked another smile, leaning forward on the counter, bulging muscles in his biceps on display. You couldn’t help but dash a quick look, and you felt the heat rising to your face when you knew for sure Leon had seen you look. “You’d be surprised.”

You stood silent for another second, brain lagging behind your normal thought process speed. God, this reaction was so pathetic, had the dry streak really been that long that the mere sight of Leon’s huge arms threw you off balance?

Your cheeks were burning and you could sense now you were about to start stumbling on your words, and the last thing you needed after sitting through a three hour long tattoo session with an insanely hot artist was to embarrass yourself any more in front of him.

“Well, I–um, I’m glad you are prepared enough to handle that if it happens. Which I hope it won’t. But, happy that you would help.” Leave already. “Well, thank you again, I love it so much. I’ll probably put it on my Instagram or something if you need more art to showcase, I’m always down to model it.” What?! “Thanks again!”

You backed out of the shop door, the mental image of Leon’s grin just widening the more you rambled on, face flaming hot and lungs deprived of fresh air. You heard him shout ‘have a good night’ as you walked as fast as possible without breaking into a sprint to your car, and you had a feeling he was watching you the whole time.

All you could do was sit slumped over onto the steering wheel, contemplating the last 30 seconds and wishing to anyone listening to rewind and do it one more time.

It was one thing to get a tattoo, which you did. It was another thing to have it done by a very attractive, older tattoo artist who had so much muscle on him you weren’t entirely unconvinced he couldn’t choke someone out using only his thumb and forefinger alone. It was a complete other third thing to then go on and make a fool of yourself because you got too flustered by his appearance after sitting there, pants down in front of him, doing the closest thing to sex in terms of intimacy, and leaving a bumbling mess.

Yeah, he surely wouldn’t forget you now.

Luck happened to be in your favor for the next few days of the healing journey as no signs of blowout appeared nor did anything feel off in the process. It was tender, of course, and the skin was red for the first day afterwards, but when you peeled off the second skin on the third day and watched the ink mixed with plasma flow down the drain, you couldn’t stop staring at your new body modification that you knew you needed more of.

Unable to keep the excitement at bay and needing others to know you had finally braved the needle, you had posted a picture of it on your social media, captioned with your enthusiasm about it, and graciously tagging Leon’s account, hoping to give him more traffic via your friends.

The usual influx of your friends flooded into your DMs complimenting the art, complimenting you for finally doing it, and even those you hadn’t spoken to in forever chiming in, boosting your ego existentially.

One message, however, caught your eye when the notification flashed on screen.

leonsk.ink: Healing wonderfully. I was worried when I hadn’t heard from you, but I suppose that’s a good sign.

Just when you managed to shuck the feeling that Leon had left you with in his presence, the mere notification that he had responded to your tag had your stomach in knots again as if you were going to unclothe yourself for him once more.

You stared at the notification, scared to even open it, knowing you would feel the pressure of crafting the perfect response once he could see that you have viewed it. Your blood started racing through your veins at the mere thought of him going out of his way to add to the pool of compliments you were receiving, and it was on his own art, no less.

He could possibly just be following up, maybe he does this to everyone. Maybe it is just his common courtesy to make sure that his clients are as satisfied as possible. It could be nothing more than that. But yet…

The way he worded it. I was worried when I hadn’t heard from you. So, he had been looking forward to a message from you? Even if it was about something going wrong in the healing process? The thought made you both amused and thrilled that, in one way or another, he had been wanting to speak with you again.

You opened the message, and replied.

You: All due to you, of course! Although, I can’t help but assume that sounds like you wanted something to go wrong just so I’d message you?!

You wondered what he could be doing right now. It was almost 3PM on a Tuesday and you had just finished up your own remote work assignments, but Leon probably didn’t have a client if he was able to be on his phone and message you, or in between two. The thought that Leon was booked and busy was no surprise to you. With art that phenomenal, he had to be.

leonsk.ink: Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad. But, here you are anyways, so something went right I guess.

You bit your lip, unable to fight the smile making its way onto your face. It was much easier to talk to Leon without being in front of him, so you decided to get bold.

You: Something did go right. Now that I have proof of your mastery, I’m waiting for some more from you!

You felt like a high schooler again, flirting with your crush over the phone, knowing inevitably you would clam up and not make a move in real life. The screen gave you a sense of confidence in the craft, letting you say what you couldn’t even get out without stumbling over every word in front of him.

leonsk.ink: I’m waiting for more as well. I’d love to see where else you can offer up for me to draw on.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying? This was obviously blatant flirting, yes, and you had to be thankful he was doing it now and not while he was tattooing you, giving him a distraction. Plus, if he did try to flirt in person, you knew it would be a repeat of what happened on your way out of the shop, unable to form a coherent sentence because his massive biceps had hit the hard reset button in your brain.

You wanted to respond with just as much banter as he was throwing at you, but on the chance he was actually trying to see you again… it would be much harder to live up to your words.

You: Lucky for you I’ve got plenty more. I’ll let you decide what’s the perfect spot.

Leon went quiet for a few minutes this time, not reading the message either. Completely reasonable from a working adult, but it did not help the rapid pace of your heartbeat and the anticipation of seeing a message from him pop up again.

The longest hour (20 minutes) of your life later, another message, but this one was a bit more direct than the last few.

leonsk.ink: Why don’t you come by this weekend and I’d love to let you know where I want to put one.

Fuck a somersault, your stomach did an entire gymnastics routine reading that. So he really did mean what he said, and he’s now inviting you over to his house. You weren’t an idiot, obviously you knew what he was insinuating by his words, and no part of you wanted to run away from this, but you couldn't help those nerves that crept up again, just like you were about to get another tattoo.

Perhaps it wasn’t even the tattoo in the first place. Maybe it was just Leon, and you had some third eye that knew what the interaction at the shop would bring.

You were going to agree, of course, in what world wouldn’t you? You could not pass up the opportunity to fuck your incredibly hot, older tattoo artist if he was showing just as much interest in you as you were in him. Sure, maybe your interest was much more shameful than you’d like to admit, but thank god Leon was able to pick through the mess you left with and see right through your poor disguise of normalcy. You almost couldn’t even believe he was interested in you to begin with… Out of all the clients he probably sees, he picked the first timer who couldn’t spit out one sentence?!

You: I think I can make that work.

Now you had the whole rest of the week to sit through knowing there was the promise of seeing Leon again at the end. Maybe it was in your best interest to be waiting that long, you’d have enough time to get yourself together to avoid another one-sided incident.

Leon sent back an address and the simple instruction to just park next to him in the driveway. You weren’t normal about this (naturally), so putting the address into Google Earth gave you the image of a small, one-story house on a quiet road, barely littered with other houses and what looked to be dense acreage behind it. Despite the fact this house probably didn’t offer much more than two bedrooms and maybe two bathrooms at most, you assumed it had to have cost him a pretty penny. There’s no way only tattooing provided that for him, even if he had been doing it for a long time. There had to have been something else, and that only intrigued you further.

There was nothing else to do besides wait for the time to come. Literally and metaphorically.

Once it did roll around, however, you were standing in front of your mirror obsessively checking your appearance. You kept having to remind yourself that if Leon was still flirting with you and making advances towards you after the state he saw you in, then he probably wouldn’t care, especially not if you put in more effort than just comfortable clothes to get tattooed in. 

It really was the tattoo nerves all over again, but there was no mystery of pain on the other side, quite frankly, it was the complete opposite, and yet you were overcome by the adrenaline of it. Putting Leon aside for a second, this made sense, considering you hadn’t prioritized trying to get laid in recent times, but who were you to deny the chance now that it was here?

There was no denial here, and certainly less of a chance now that you were pulling up to the driveway you had studied on Google Earth. It looked exactly the same as it did on your screen–the house was a deep blue, crisp white frame and fence to match, neatly manicured lawn and garden; you smiled at the thought that Leon took such care to make sure the presentation of his home was neat and tidy. 

You pulled in next to a black SUV parked closest to the walkway, a Porsche Cayenne, sparkling under the streetlight (yes, singular, it was rather difficult keeping track of the road with just your headlights), clean as if it hadn’t been driven since it rolled off the lot. A GT Turbo, too, upon closer inspection. This raised more eyebrows to your more-money-than-just-tattoo-artist theory.

The street was so quiet when you stepped out of the car. You had expected as much given the nearest neighbor that you passed on the way in wasn’t even visible from where you were standing. It was oddly peaceful. It helped to alleviate the stress of the current situation.

The cool night air settled around you as you stood atop the porch, knocking twice, stepping back, and waiting. You heard noise from behind the door, using these last seconds to stabilize. It swung open, and you nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Glad you could make it. I thought for a second you’d go off and find another artist.” You giggled at his remark, and stepped in when he gestured for you to enter. He kept talking while you looked around and followed him into the kitchen. “I know my invitation was kind of sudden but… you were a fun subject. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t interested. I don’t think it was too one sided by the impression you left with.” You didn’t need to turn around to hear the smile in his voice. You shook your head and laughed along with him.

“Oh, god… don’t even bring it up.” You turned finally, having sat down at the chair he offered you at the island counter. “I couldn’t help it. I was already nervous about getting my first tattoo, which did turn out fine, but on top of it I had…” You let the sentence taper off, gesturing in front of you at Leon, the unspoken words very understandable. 

Leon leaned forward toward you across the counter. “Sorry to be so distracting. I hope it at least relieved the pain.” His smirk was killer. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his face, especially in this low lighting, every shadow and highlight contrasting perfectly to paint a picture of this unreal man standing before you.

You put your chin on a hand, propping your elbow on top of the counter’s surface. “It definitely helped, but then I just had to worry about making a mess of myself in front of you, which I did anyway. But we aren’t talking about that.” Leon quirked an eyebrow, signaling he did in fact think it was very funny. At least your embarrassment amused him. “You know… thinking about it, when I was recommended to book with you, my friend had said you fill up pretty fast, but you got me in in less than a month.”

Leon lifted himself off of his elbows and rested on the heels of his palms now, flexing every muscle in his arm. You tried not to stare, but considering the environment and the reason you had been brought here… you stared.

“Originally, when I saw someone was trying to get in with me–you, obviously–I didn’t have an opening until about 5 months from now. There was a lull in booking when you messaged me, and there just coincidentally happened to be a cancellation on the time and date that you came in. If it weren’t for that… you’d still be waiting.”

This wasn’t surprising to hear, knowing how good Leon was and how strongly recommended he was from your friends, you had expected even longer. You were glad that person had to cancel. Imagine if you were still waiting for only a tattoo right now? Instead you were in Leon’s house because he invited you. All because of that appointment.

“Sounds about right. So many people want you. You have people there all day every day and you are still booking out months in advance.” You looked up at him and made eye contact, finally drawing your gaze away from his arms. He stared down at you, half-lidded eyes crested in the shadow of his brow bone. Your breath stuttered.

“Well, not exactly. I only tattoo two days a week.”

“Oh?” You straightened at this. “What else do you do?” Finally you will get your answer. “That’s a real nice car outside.” No point in being subtle now.

His grin held steady. “Government stuff.”

You hummed at this. “Interesting. Like?”

“Like government stuff.” His voice was so low and raspy it was almost a growl. You said nothing to this, simply captivated by his aura. “They can reach me whenever they want, as long as it's not the two days I’m busy at the shop.” He tilted his head, taking you in from another angle. You took a second to just stare at him, now that you finally had the chance. You still couldn’t believe you were even here right now.

“For a side hustle you do an awfully good job at it. How come you don’t expand? Or have you thought about it?” You kept your eyes locked onto his, already feeling yourself going weak, anticipating the moment he finally got his hands on you.

“You said it yourself,” He broke eye contact for just a second to gesture his gaze upwards towards the front door. “That’s a real nice car outside.”

You smiled at this, having your suspicions about another job confirmed, even if he was being picky about the details. You supposed you had to respect this, there was probably only so much he could say if it was a government job. You couldn’t deny that you were kind of into that, though. There was something about the secret that made it more enticing.

Leon spoke again before you could conjure anything else, too enveloped in the promise of the physical touch to come.

“And anyway, how is your’s doing? It looked like it was healing well.” 

Your hand instinctively went to your thigh under the counter's surface, fingers teasing with the hem of the skirt you had on. 

Why waste time with pants?

“I think it’s doing pretty well, it feels and looks fine, but, I don’t know, you’re the professional. You should probably see for yourself.” 

You watched as a devilish smile slowly bloomed on his face. He lifted himself off the counter and circled around to you, standing right in front of where you sat, looking down.

“Good call.” Leon moved quickly–he gathered both of your wrists together in one hand and put them around his neck, and in the same motion, he dropped his hands once yours were steady and planted them under your thighs. He lifted you off of the counter stool, and you couldn’t help the excited squeak that came out of you when you were suddenly detached from the seat. 

Your arms tightened around his neck, your thighs squeezing his ridiculously toned torso. You were caught in the flurry of the sudden movement that you didn’t even catch any scenery of the home flying by, you could only anticipate where Leon was taking you and when you would get there. 

After he turned a corner, you watched his foot kick a door shut, and a second later you were being lowered onto a soft surface. It didn’t take you long to figure out this was his bedroom.

You laid back after Leon let you go, propping yourself up on your elbows, head tilted sideways, simply just watching him. He looked even bigger when he stood before you like this; every muscle bulging, chest rising and falling. 

“Let’s see it.” 

You almost forgot the whole talking point that brought you here, hesitating a second before your hand drifted down to the hem of your skirt once again. You slid it up your thigh, purposefully letting the fabric pull itself taut along your other leg, revealing more underneath than intended. But you were prepared for that. You knew what you were about to get into. 

Leon’s head fell to the side slowly as he let his eyes roam over his work, but you saw them drift. They spent more time examining the color of underwear you picked out for the night rather than actually inspecting the art.

(Not like you could blame him. You knew he wasn’t interested in double checking what he knew he was already good at.)

“You took good care of it. Now I know you’re ready for more.”

You dropped your hand from holding your skirt up, letting it stay hitched. You held eye contact, surprised at your ability despite feeling like you could fumble this at any second.

You took a deep breath in, forcing your nerves down. “Where would you recommend?”

Leon looked away from you and down at your legs again. One hand was braced on the same knee of the leg you were showcasing his art on, while the other hovered over the opposite thigh.

“Well, legs are always a great place to start…” His voice lowered even more if it were possible. His hand finally made contact, skirting along over the skin of the inner thigh, tracing lines with his fingertip, sending a chill up your body. He palmed your hip as he moved upwards, letting his thumb whisper over the thin material of the panty, making you want to buck up into his touch.

His fingers pushed the hem of your shirt up to your ribcage, gliding his thumb across the smooth expanse of skin on your stomach. Your eyes followed the path it made. “Anywhere on the torso is good for once you’ve done multiple and want to step it up. If you can handle the pain.”

Leon barely lifted his hand anymore as he moved higher again, letting any and all contact happen with your breast over your shirt. You took another deep breath in, feeling how unstable it was.

When his fingers reached your neck, he pushed your chin upward using his thumb, forcing you to look up at him again. There was no mistaking the lustful look in his eye, like he was ready to devour you. His hand left your neck and snaked its way through your hair, balling together at the scalp, and you softly hissed at the tension as he pulled your head back even further. 

“And maybe even that pretty neck of yours could make any tattoo look appealing.”

You fought your best against the whimper that was threatening to release itself, but you ultimately lost. Just Leon’s touch alone had your body weak for him, no longer having the rhythmic sting of the tattoo machine there to distract you. He brought himself down to your face, nowhere else to look except for into his eyes. 

“Basically… whatever parts of yourself you’re willing to put on display.”

You could barely even form words, your attention being caught between the lethal stare from Leon and the numbing pull of his fist in your hair. He stood with your legs in between his, and you couldn’t ignore his stiff dick pressing into your leg. You needed this badly. You needed him.

You swallowed, thick and heavy, mouth salivating with arousal. You looked into his eyes, pupils blown, feeling any last sense of courage drain from your limbs.

You could only manage a whisper, your body already too overstimulated, senses being pulled in every direction. “What do you want to do with me?”

Leon hummed in return, something closer to a growl. 

“I’d rather just show you.”

You gasped as the force pulling your head back by the hair suddenly vanished, leaving you reeling in the spot. Leon backed up from you with speed, ordering, “Take your clothes off,” while his eyes never left your body.

Despite yourself, and the overflow of emotion you were feeling during this, you couldn’t help but breath out a laugh at his words.

“Is this the decorum you promised me before the tattoo?”

You watched his face as you slowly shed your shirt and bra, his eyes not meeting yours, simply glued to your body.

“I didn't bring you in here immediately. That was the decorum.”

You bit your tongue to keep in any more nervous laughter and continued to undress under his scrutinizing gaze. When you pulled the skirt down to show off the less-than-discreet thong you chose to adorn, he took a step towards you and ordered you to stop your movement and get back onto the bed.

Spreading your legs using a hand on your knee and his own body, he wedged himself between you, his hard dick tenting in his pants, begging to break free. You could practically feel how wet you were, the cool air on your exposed body parts making the wetness evident, no confirmation needed.

Leon didn’t move for a full second. All he did was stare down at you, making you writhe under his gaze, your nipples tightening, needing friction on them, on everywhere. He seemed to take joy in just watching you squirm while he did nothing except look at you, wanting to see how long you could wait before pleading with him to touch you. You weren’t above begging in this situation if he wanted it, clearly he did, and the wave of lust crashing over you rewired any normal function you could have otherwise offered him.

You choked out, “Leon… please.”

His eyes snapped up to yours and you saw his true mood reflected in them; he was completely overtaken by pure passion. His hands were attached to your thighs a second later, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him. He had you spread open, standing in between your legs, your own core flush to his straining waistband. 

Your stare was attached to his movements as he let his eyes roam even more over your bare body, his hands sliding upwards along your thighs and fingers hooking underneath the thin straps of the thong. 

He was taking painfully long to pull them down. You needed his contact desperately, you could feel the throbbing of your heat as you were aching for him to touch you, be inside you. You wished he would just move quicker and rip the underwear off of you, not only wanting to be free in front of him but needing the uncomfortable choice of lingerie to be laying on the floor already.

You couldn’t help but continue to squirm, gently lifting your hips off of the bed trying to signal to him you wanted him to move. It took far too long for your liking but he finally dragged the small piece of fabric down your legs and dropped it on the floor beside him. 

Your breath hitched when Leon bent down, leveling himself with your dripping cunt and you wanted nothing more than for his mouth to press itself against you. Your head fell back, already anticipating the sensation, but you only gasped when what you actually felt was unexpected.

His mouth was on you, that was for sure, but he planted his lips along the soft, tender skin of your inner thigh, leaving you untouched where you needed it most. 

Your hand found his wrist that still had a hold of your legs and you squeezed it, looking for leverage as you felt his teeth nipping at your flesh, sensations jumping between soft bites and warm, wet licks of his tongue as he marked your skin.

When he was done with the first one, he moved down, even closer now, but continued in his mission to pepper you with bruises from his mouth. It was only causing the strain in your core to tighten, every touch of his lips and swipe of his tongue had you dying for more, needing him like air.

With the third one, he was so terribly close to your center, and his bites were getting erratic and harder, your gasps sharpening, his hands clenching more bruises into your thighs, you were sure he was also desperate for contact on his dick and yet he continued to tend to you, marking you up. Marking you as his.

When he let go, you exhaled shakily, waiting for the beginning of the fourth hickey, but instead you jumped in surprise when he delivered a stiff slap to the side of your ass, and instantly, his mouth was on you, warm and wet, tongue gliding smoothly from entrance to clit.

You choked on a gasp at the sudden contact, mouth open but no sound heard. With one hand still stationed on his wrist, the other threaded through his long hair, keeping stability as he worked you open.

His tongue lapped at your clit, breaking up the softness with the occasional sting of a bite, making your nerves spike, but increasing your arousal. He held your thighs open as you twitched in response to his pleasure, keeping you peeled so he was unobstructed.

Your inhales and moans mixed with the slick suckling and occasional spanks from Leon, head thrown back on the soft comforter as he brought you closer to the edge, the heat building not only within you, but also on the surface, his mouth becoming a furnace attached to your cunt. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling nothing but pleasure as he continued his attack on your clit, nearly going lightheaded.

He moved downward, finally giving the sensitive bud a rest and prodding his tongue at your entrance, giving you just a fraction of relief, but it was nowhere near enough. You knew that he knew this too, as he did this, deliberately teasing you by poking inward, and retracting his tongue before you could make your best attempt at grinding yourself onto his face. 

Without warning, he pulled away, and the ice cold air that filled in the space where his mouth was made you shiver. He pulled your thigh open again, examining his work (of his mouth, not his ink), and grunting in satisfaction before he leaned over you, looking into your lidded eyes, clouded over and hazy.

He held his hand out for you, and with your own shaky hand, you took it, and he gently lifted you into a sitting position, cold air making your skin break out in goosebumps. 

“Turn around.”

You did as you were told and positioned yourself to face the bed, back towards him. He guided you to where he wanted you with hands on your hips, pulling you closer, planting one on the center of your shoulder blades and pushing you downward, ass in the air for him.

One of his hands remained palming a cheek and you reveled in the warmth it brought you as you waited for him to make another move. You could only hope he wasn't going to keep you like this as long as he had before.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper was heard from behind you, followed by the rustle of clothing. You couldn’t wait, yet you wanted a vantage point to be able to still watch Leon at the same time.

His hands grabbed both sides of your hips once more and lifted you into the air, shoving a pillow you weren’t sure when he grabbed underneath your pelvis, giving him more leverage for his angle. Your legs were basically off the bed, but the height of the mattress and the pillow proved to be the ideal height for this purpose.

With one hand still firmly gripping your cheek, he used a finger from the other to drag a long, slow stripe up your cunt, from clit to entrance, making you whine in need. He wouldn’t go further, he simply kept you on the edge until he decided it was enough.

You felt a hand snake through your hair once again, and when he tugged you backwards, his mouth was next to your ear. You arched into his touch, pushing your ass into his crotch.

“You can tell me when it’s too much,” You only whimpered in response, not having enough brain power to conjure words, but taking in what he was saying. “I just know you’ll be addictive.” 

Breathing was the only answer he got, besides a pathetic nod of your head while he had you captive in his grip. Using said grip, he tilted your head sideways, baring your neck out, to which he planted a mix of small kisses and bites along the length. You balled your hands into fists, taking the comforter with you, the tickle of his mouth and the chill of the air and the weight of his cock that came to lay directly between your ass cheeks as he hovered over you proving to be nearly the point of overstimulation.

Leon let you go, lowering your head before releasing your hair. The hand that was on your cheek remained firm, spreading you open as you felt the kiss of the head of his dick pressing into your entrance. You dropped your head forward onto the sheets, giving up on making any attempt to look over your shoulder at him. Your mouth hung open in silent screams as he made his way further in, pushing in a little more then pulling out, coating himself in your slick so you could take him deeper. He must have squirted a small amount of lube along his length as you could feel the frictionless glide of something much smoother (and colder) than skin alone. How he worked quick enough to get that done was beyond you, but it could have been multiple minutes that you were laying there, a dizzy mess. Not that it mattered, whatever made the process quicker.

You felt the delicious, burning stretch kick in as he kept going, the pressure of his pelvis and balls pushing into the delicate skin around your heat. Once he bottomed out, he groaned from behind you, making you melt even further, heightening the arousal and dampening any lingering pain from the stretch. One of his hands returned to your back, forcing you down into the bed. His other hand lifted off of your ass only to come back down rapidly, the slap ringing out, followed quickly by a broken moan from you. 

Leon dragged himself out of you, taking his time, reveling in the way you sucked him in. You reached a hand down to grip his arm, needing something studier than the fabric of the sheets to secure yourself too while he pulled nearly all the way out, and took his sweet time pushing right back in. 

Leon groaned again once he was all the way in, breathing heavily through his nose as he tightened his grip on you. 

“Fuck,” He rasped, and the next in and out movement was not as slow as you were loathe to imagine he would be pacing himself the whole time. He jerked his hips outward only halfway and pushed himself in, the clap of skin pairing well with the fullness you were experiencing. With every one of these movements, your body was ricocheted forward, your nipples creating friction from the bedsheets, somehow feeling Leon go deeper with every thrust.

The hand on your back moved up to the nape of your neck, thumb and fingers squeezing just enough to apply a choking-like pressure. He continued at his pace, providing quick snaps of the hips and a cacophony of sounds happening in the room.

This continued for another undefined amount of time–Leon holding you steady by the hip and pistoning into you, your moans and whimpers mixing with the slaps of skin from both his hands and his thrusts. You buried your face into the comforter as if it could go any deeper, but it served to dampen the moans that had enough velocity to come out nearly as screams.

Leon felt excruciatingly good, the rapid fire of his dick bringing relief to your core like you were desperate for the minute you stepped into his house, into his bedroom, the minute you undressed for him. The way he handled you had you like putty, your arms like jelly, using any left strength you had left to keep the arch for him, and to keep the angle at its prime spot.

Leon was heavenly to listen to; hearing this grown man do nothing but grunt and pant at the feeling you were leaving him with did more to stimulate you than you would have thought. It was a sound you were drinking up. You knew you would need more as soon as they ended.

Suddenly, you could feel Leon pressing deeper into you than he was before, making you choke out a whine at the burn. He was leaning himself over you, chest flush with your back, hand removed from your neck to support him next to your head. His forehead dropped down and crashed into your hair, mouth next to your ear. 

You heard nothing but his deep breaths for a second, but then he spoke. “Can you take it?”

His voice was so low, you swore you felt the vibrations in your guts. Turning your head to the side, you caught his eye. You were sure you looked a mess, hair everywhere and makeup probably smeared across your eyes. Nonetheless, you still saw him quirk a smile, satisfied at the way he had you undone. 

You opened your mouth to reply, knowing the sound coming out would be nothing over a whisper.

“I can take it…”

He hummed at your response, smiling wider, wickeder.

“Good girl.”

He lifted himself from you, but the depth of his dick didn’t relent. The hand that was beside your head lifted from the bed and was now back for the third time at the base of your scalp, hoisting you upwards, intensifying the angle of your arch. 

Holding you steady by both the hip and the head, he drew himself out of your wetness and plummeted back in, harder and heavier than he had been doing before. It elicited wanton moans from you, most of them turning to voiceless whimpers as the force of your head being held back cut off most sound from escaping.

If your eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they were wandering aimlessly, not being able to focus on anything except the sweet sting of every slap of his balls to your dripping cunt. His breathing picked up, as did his groans, it was music to your ears.

“Fuck,” Leon cursed again, hips stuttering their pace. “This pussy is taking me so well,” You wanted so badly to go limp in his arms and just let him have his way with you, but the burn of your hair being pulled kept you upright. “I knew you’d be a problem for me.”

As much as you wanted to process what he was saying, you were too enraptured with the way he was thrusting into you, every muscle in your body burning and tightening with the imminent release that was coming.

Instead, you said nothing, breathing unsteadily and feeling every hit of the head of his dick in you, everything pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

The hand that had remained on your hip this whole time finally moved positions, slithering up your back, feeling every flex and ripple of your skin. He trailed it over your ribcage and around the front, grasping a tit in his hand, softly squeezing and pinching the nipple.

You were approaching the peak, you could feel it. Between taking him to the brim and the caressing of your chest and the sound of his pleasure mixing with your own, it was all too much to handle. 

If Leon was also getting closer to his limit, you were barely able to tell. His hips lost rhythm here and there, but the pace was quickly regained, and his stamina was everlasting. If he kept going, it would be far past the point of pleasure for you, but you had to reach that first. It was so, so close.

Putting in all the effort you could to make sound, you hoped he would be able to hear it over his own sounds.

“Leon…”

He didn’t need any clarification to know that you were warning him. He slowed down his pace only for a second to reposition your hips, bringing your ass higher in the air for him. The hand not in your hair was by your side now, holding himself up above you. He continued, but not before responding to your plea. “Come for me, baby.”

This angle provided only more stimulation than not. It was somehow even deeper than before, and Leon had an endless reserve of energy to borrow from as his speed never slowed down, not even if his own orgasm was right on the brink along with yours. 

You were whining to the point of crying now, the sensation bringing a tear to your eye as you heightened all too fast, overstimulation quickly taking its place, but hanging on to chase the sweet relief just out of sight.

“Oh, god… Leon!” 

Your hand flew out to stabilize yourself on his wrist as flashes of white shone underneath your scrunched eyelids. Your body shuddered, still taking him as he fucked you through your orgasm. You felt the amount of slickness between you two increase. Leon gently lowered your head to the bed, finally slowing down his pace as he watched the wave of pleasure come and go from your body. 

He pulled out of you, the emptiness making you wince, making you miss the fullness, yet knowing it would only end in disaster if you kept going.

Between heavy breaths, Leon spoke from behind you, “Turn over.”

With weak arms and assistance from Leon, he helped to roll you over onto your back, legs hoisted up onto his thighs as he kneeled on the mattress in front of you. 

He had no shirt on. Again, you weren’t sure when this happened, but anything could have been happening behind you while your eyes were shut and you were facing away. His chest glistened with sweat. His torso was littered with patches of hair, only contouring all of his muscles further. Sweat glued strands of hair onto his forehead as well, painting a picture of a blissed-out man.

He held his wet cock in his hand, stroking himself the last of the way to his own climax. He used the other arm to prop himself up once more, bringing his forehead to rest on yours as you watched him bring himself to orgasm. 

There was little friction to slow him down from all the fluids mixing between the both of you, and his grunts sped up as he stroked himself faster and he got closer and closer. 

With a hitch of his breath and a twitch of his abdomen, he was shooting his ropes all over your stomach and chest, the warm, white liquid coating your glistening skin, dripping down the curves of your tits and down the side of your body, into the sheets that absorbed every other liquid from this exchange. 

You felt his body convulse slightly with every spurt, and with his cum now emptied out of him, breathing heavy, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck while he came down.

With a pained groan, he pushed himself upwards after a minute. 

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Once you had been wiped down with nothing left to drip anywhere else, Leon gently lifted you upwards to a standing position, letting you use him as leverage on your shaky feet. If it weren’t for him, you’re sure you would be in a heap on the floor by now.

If you had organically run into someone like Leon, the stereotypes about someone like him would be drastically different from the man he turned out to be. Someone as tall, broad, and handsome had to have been at least a little stuck up somewhere in his life, but Leon showed you none of that. 

He cared for you afterwards, cleaned you and let you stay the night considering he only had the free time to have you over when it was already bordering the time most of the world was falling asleep. Even though he was the one who said it first, you couldn’t help but to agree. 

You knew he’d be a problem for you. 

The sun crept in without urgency, and your eyes were heavy as they fought against whatever light did make its way into the room. You sighed, reveling in the comfort, knowing it had to end at some point.

Leon had stayed glued to you all night, another unexpected trait from him. Despite the fact that he had only tattooed you once and had barely any small talk before blowing your back out, he was tender in the moments when he needed to be. You two ended up staying awake much later than anticipated, finally doing all that talking that didn’t happen hours ago. 

You were already getting used to his company. You knew you would want to see him again, but if it was for another tattoo or to be under him again, that was really up in the air.

You weren’t sure what Leon’s schedule this morning was like. He hadn’t said he was working, and it wasn’t one of the days he said he was only at the tattoo parlor. Despite this, you were still confused when you finally stretched your body out in bed and he wasn’t next to you.

It looked as if he had left hours ago, but you had no recollection of being woken up at any time that he left. The sheets and pillow were both already chilled, his side being tucked up neatly, only yours being mussed, only yours looking actually slept in. 

You sat up further, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and finally catching sight of something on the pillow.

You pulled the note off the fabric, reading the delicate handwriting.

I wouldn’t have left if I could have helped it. That other fancy government job called, and I’ve always got to answer. Sorry to leave you. I’ll be in touch with you again soon.

You lowered the note and stared out the window. The sky was bright, and the sunshine helped lift your mood even the slightest, feeling thrown off balance now from the sudden absence of your bedside partner. You laid back down, resolving to get up in another five minutes, because even after all this, Leon’s bed was the best thing you had ever felt.

(And no, it wasn’t only because you had been manhandled the night before and were now very sore.)

Movement at the end of the bed made you sit upright suddenly, having been startled from the silent moment you were enjoying. A medium sized, fluffy, black cat had hopped up and was now walking towards you.

“Oh… hi.”

You stared at it, not remembering Leon saying anything about a cat. Regardless, it was a pleasant surprise, and even more so now discovering it was friendly, rubbing its head on your outstretched hand for it.

“I didn’t know Leon had a roommate.”

How a cat this sociable had managed to stay hidden all night was a mystery, but now that it had crawled out of the woodwork and was making quick work of befriending you, you couldn’t complain.

Once you were on the way out, you pat the friendly creature on top of the head and made your exit. Even though he said he would be in touch, it wouldn’t hurt to beat him to it, right?

You opened your DMs.

You: Thanks for everything. It was unforgettable.

You attached a picture of the cat standing on top of you in the bed that you had quickly snapped.

You: Also, I’m taking this little guy home.

By the time you pulled back up to your house, mentally prepared to start another mundane week, Leon had replied.

leonsk.ink: He’s always been good at picking out the right people. Guess I’ll need to have you back over sooner than I thought.

Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.

He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.

He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).

The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.

You offered your name, he offered his (Leon—was it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.

You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.

Hook, line, sinker.

Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.

Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. He’s handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.

What does surprise you is how you’ve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.

Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.

Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that you’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s wrung you out on these expensive sheets.

Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.

Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. You’re sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.

He does it again and again and again until you’re basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.

This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.

There’s a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. He’s actually entertained.

You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."

The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. “You’re shaking so much. It’s cute.”

So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.

“You okay?”

You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. “Have you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?”

He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.

"Are you ever going to?"

His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. “Why, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."

“I’m having a great time.”

“Then what’s with the rush?”

“Maybe we should take a break,” you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. “I-I need to pee.”

He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. “Is that right?”

“Fuck—Leon—” You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. “You’re not helping.”

“I actually am,” he argues.

“What—”

“Let's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?”

You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what he’s asking.

“I’m pretty sure I need to pee,” you reason quietly. “I’m not a squirter.”

He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve never done that before?”

“I have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.”

He looks genuinely offended by your answer. “Do you want to try?”

Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. He’s simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.

Even with the fragments of scars you’ve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.

And you’re very much aware you’re one of the few he’s taken to bed.

But is he always this attentive? This generous?

Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?

You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. He’s just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.

If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?

“You really think I’m about to squirt?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

You frown. “What if it’s just pee?”

He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. “Make a mess then, I don’t mind.”

Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.

“Then make me squirt, Leon.”

He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.

Not enough, apparently, because he’s already moving his hips in rapid rhythms—not too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.

“Fucking beautiful,” he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. “Just lying there looking all pretty."

“H-harder,” you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.

“Yeah?” He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. “You like it when I go hard on you?”

Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when he’s practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.

“I know, baby, I know,” he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ngh—h—”

“That’s it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.”

The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattles—and you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. “Leon—”

He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.

“Don't fight it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Your groan is feral. “I can’t—”

“Come on, baby, you’ve got to trust me,” he croons softly. “Do you trust me?”

Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. “Yes.”

“Good. Then let it happen.”

Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.

“Breathe through your nose.”

He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh, fuck—”

“That’s it.” He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. “Let it go.”

You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.

It’s like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame—only for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.

Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.

You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself getting drenched, but you’ve never experienced anything as wild as this.

Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.

He pushes his palm against your clit.

“Oh fuck! fuckfuckfuck—”

A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie there—crying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.

“Should’ve met you sooner,” he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.

Maybe it’s the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.

“Can we meet again?” You pant. “Like—after tonight?”

He withdraws his hips with a smug grin.

“I would,” thrust, “very much,” thrust, “like that.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

You’re somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.

To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.

You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.

Tonight’s as good a night as ever, Eren thinks. His roommate, Armin, insists on hosting a game night every other week-ish to ‘get the gang together.’ But game nights are hard. No one can listen long enough to learn the rules. So game nights soon devolved into movie nights, which turned into drinking nights after no one could ever agree on a movie. 

That’s the plan for the evening: to have a couple of beers or seltzers or whatever his friends planned on bringing, and to spend some time with you. Alone.

You walked into the apartment huffing and puffing, unsurprisingly pissed about whatever your boyfriend did or didn’t do this time. You’ve spent most of the night wallowing in your displeasure, trying to hide it but failing miserably. Eren can tell you’re furiously texting Sasha every little detail despite sitting across from one another.  

If you were to ask any of your friends, they’d probably say they used to think you and Eren would date. You had that energy about you. Still do. But then you met your boyfriend, things progressed, and you’ve been seeing each other ever since. On and off, of course. 

Eren dated other people, too. And sure, he liked them, but that’s as far as it would get. Finding happiness is difficult when he constantly sees the greener grass on the other side. 

He thought it might be a timing thing, the reason the two of you never hooked up. It made sense back then. But now, Eren knows it’s not a timing thing because he’s single, and you can dump your boyfriend any time you want—if that’s what you want. 

Eren could pry. He could be forthright and ask what you’re texting Sasha about. But that would get him nowhere, with a coordinated response of ‘girl stuff,’ and the subject would inevitably die there. 

You never talk about your boyfriend problems when Eren is around. Not that he expected you to; he would have written it off a long time ago if he hadn’t overheard you confiding in Armin. Jean, too. Anyone who would listen, it sure seemed like, besides Eren. You know, the one person who really, really wanted to know. After all, he’s certain he could show you how much better things could be, with him.

So he’ll do just that. He catches you at the right moment, once the two of you are alone—sort of. Armin had gone to bed. Sasha had left and taken Jean and Connie with her. The only guests remaining are you and Mikasa—and she’s been sitting heavy-eyed on the couch for the last twenty minutes. 

Then there’s you, all squirmy beside him.

“Are you cold?” Eren asks. He knows that’s not the reason, and he also knows you’d never ask the more direct question, ‘Are you all right?’

“I’m fine,” you whisper, cautious of disturbing Mikasa as she drifts off. “I’m just—”

“Having a long night?” Eren guesses. 

You sigh, and it’s weighty enough to sound like you’ve held it in for a while.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

It’s vague, yet you still feel you said too much. 

Hands in your lap, you mess with your fingers. You focus on that rather than try to look Eren in the eye. You can’t bring yourself to do that right now; it makes your insides burn uncomfortably hot. 

There’s no denying how Eren makes you feel. Hell, there’s no denying you came over here tonight with him on your mind. After what transpired with your boyfriend (or was it your ex-boyfriend now? You left unsure of where you stood), how could you not? 

“Is there anything I can do,” Eren slides closer to you on the couch, “to make your night better?”

Yes, you think. Yes, yes, yes.

You shake your head, gaze low, fixed on his leg pressing against yours. 

“It’s not your problem to fix,” you assure, but it lacks any sureness and almost sounds like a dare.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try,” Eren says, always up for a challenge, especially if you’re the prize at the end. 

You are better than this, you tell yourself. You are above this. 

Still, you can’t help but think: what would your boyfriend do if the roles were reversed? You argued about his fidelity before—you even argued about it a few hours ago—and you have no more clarity than you did at the start.

Maybe you haven’t been perfect, either. Maybe there were times you should’ve told Eren to cut the flirting, and even times you shouldn’t have reciprocated. You thought it was harmless, that you’d never end up exactly where you are now.

You also never imagined how invigorating, how right, it would feel.

Eren places a hand on your thigh, tentatively at first, light despite the guilt weighing down on you. When you don’t stop him, he grows confident; his hand slides higher and squeezes gently. It’s chaste, something that could still pass as friendly if not for how it made you feel.

I am absolutely not above this. 

That’s how you wound up in his bedroom. Eren whispered for Mikasa, and when she didn’t respond, he took it as the go-ahead to lead you somewhere more private. Down the hall, with the door shut and locked behind you, Eren had you to himself for the first time. 

Your heart thrums in your ears. It’s adrenaline, anticipation, a rush you never want to end. You hardly hear him when he asks, “How can I make your night better?” He nears you in a single step. “What would you like me to do?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you murmur, too shy to say what he wants to hear: that you want him. You want his mouth on yours, maybe on your neck, too. His hands on your chest, smoothing down your hips and between your legs. 

Instead of saying it, you lean into Eren wordlessly. You tilt your chin high to meet him, and he catches it between his fingers. He guides you to him gently. Your noses brush, your lips don’t. It’s close. So close. Enough for your lashes to flutter softly against his cheek, for you to feel every one of his warm breaths as they break over your lips. It’s intoxicating; it’s not enough. But you can’t bring yourself to seal that fateful gap between you. 

“I can’t,” you stammer. Shamefully, you found it hurt to say the words. 

Eren is silent as he pulls away from you. Before he’s too far, you snatched his wrist in your hand. You don’t know why or what you’re thinking besides that you want to keep him there. He remains frozen except for the flicker of his eyes from your hand to your face. He lets you decide where this would or wouldn’t go. 

“I don’t—fuck, I don’t know what to do,” you complain. Your head is a spinny, screwed-up disaster. Full of forbidden fantasies and raging hormones and pools of warmth spreading from your stomach to your fingertips—all because of him. 

“What do you want to do?” Eren asks in a low voice. It’s coaxing, cloying, but needful at the same time. You’ve never heard him like this before, yet he sounds familiar. Reminiscent of the same need burning inside you, so hot you think it might burn a hole through you, one only he can fill. 

You lick your bottom lip only to find your mouth has gone dry.

Eren closes in on you. His presence looming, nose nudging the side of your face as he whispers in your ear, “I can tell you what I want to do, if that would help.”

He nuzzles lower, beneath your jawline. He doesn’t kiss you there—no, he would never do that. What he does is worse, somehow. It’s teasing. His breath fans over your ear and sends shockwaves down your spine. He needs you to not only hear but to feel every word, every dirty thing he’s imagined doing with you.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he breathes against the side of your face, warming you from the inside out. His hand clasps over yours and guides it to your belly, then lower. “And I want to watch.”

You could feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes, like there was a fire lit within you. 

“Can you do that for me?” he asks, smooth and soothing. “I’ll only look. I won’t touch, I promise.” 

It’s a lousy excuse for a loophole. Actually, it doesn’t even qualify as a loophole. But the thought had you beyond dizzy. Absolutely head-to-toe flustered.

Eren leans back, holding you by the shoulders. He looks you in the eyes and again insists, “No touching.”

Loophole or not, you can’t find it within you to care. You trust him, you think. Either that, or your brain had short-circuited because you can only repeat back, “No touching,” as you bob your pretty little head. 

Eren smiles down at you, running his knuckles down the side of your face. It’s gentle, it’s praising, and it brings—no, it yanks you back to him. 

“Lie on the bed,” he says. 

You do as told, resting back on your forearms. He tugs your bottoms off with ease and reveals a pair of pale blue panties. An unforgiving color. When you spread your legs for him, he can see how you soaked through them after some innocent teasing. 

You touch yourself without him having to ask again. You trace over the damp patch and play with your clit through the fabric. Eren sees how easily your panties slip between you, how wet you already are, and he has to stifle a curse. 

Eren drops to his knees, nestling between your legs at the foot of the bed. He has a hand on either side of you. Not touching, of course. 

“Look at that.” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “You like it when I talk to you, huh? When I tell you what to do?”

You whine at his words, rub faster. You want to come. 

“So needy. What’s the rush?” Eren tuts. He climbs onto the bed, propping his back against the headboard. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he says it, his hand travels lower. Dangerously low. He palms over his crotch and draws your attention to how hard he is. His insistent cock tents his sweatpants, and he grips himself through the fabric.

You stare with too much interest. The corner of Eren’s lip curls into a smirk when you have to close your hungry mouth. He’s just as greedy, though, just as riled up as you. Even the touch of his own hand has his muscles tightening and twitching. 

You crawl over to his side and try to relax into the pillows as best you can. Your shoulders droop, your knees fall to either side, but there’s a tremble to your hand as it returns between your legs. Your touch remains feather-light as you dance your fingers along the hem of your underwear. You watch unabashedly, with your head lolled to one side as Eren mirrors you. His thumb dips below his waistband.

This still counts as ‘no touching,’ right? 

Eren shoves his hands down his sweatpants. You don’t see it when he takes his cock into his hand, but the outline of him working over his length beneath the fabric was as plain as day.

Your eyes ask the question your lips wouldn’t dare to ask. Eren responds, “You first,” as he looks down at your underwear. 

Your fingers stutter and pause. You’ve already dipped your toes into the corrupted waters, so you might as well take the full plunge. 

You tuck your underwear to the side, pinching them between the crease of your thigh. Your fingers feel almost cold against your feverish skin, and you shiver in response, letting the feeling wreck though every nerve. You clench around nothing. 

“Fuck,” Eren breathes, an incidental hiss. 

He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, and his cock slaps his front. He aches for anything more than his own hand, but it’s all he has right now. It’s agonizing to have what he needs so damn close, yet just out of reach. 

He pumps himself faster, tightening his grip around his tip to mimic your cunt. 

He can only catch glimpses; your panties keep getting in his way, and you have to keep adjusting them. Eren goes to take them off but stops himself short. 

“Take them off,” he tells you, somewhere between a request and a demand. If this was his one chance to be with you, to see you, then he’s going to see all of you. 

You listen. A sticky string connecting your fingers to your cunt snaps, and you can only hope Eren didn’t see it. You’re sure he did, based on the impatient sound that comes from the back of his throat.

You lift your hips off the bed and shimmy your underwear down your legs before kicking them to the floor. 

You don’t settle back into the bed before Eren says, “I want to see more of you,” because this still isn’t enough. “C’mere.”

He adjusts you to his liking until you’re in front of him. You’re lying back on your elbows, spread, with your feet caging his hips. It’s a vulnerable position, you admit. One where you’re completely bare and on display with no shying away. You might have even found it embarrassing, if not for how turned on you are. The urge to come is nagging, simmering for so long that you feel you may boil over and do something you’ll regret. 

“Shit.” Eren’s in awe of the sight before him: your glistening cunt, swollen and practically begging to come, paired with the dreamy expression on your face. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever looked, and he’s not even sure it’s intentional. Your eyes are as alert as they are moony, as confident as they are flustered; a doe locked in his headlights, willing to eat out of his palm despite her better judgment. 

“Spread yourself for me,” he murmurs. You do so with two fingers. “God, look at you.”

So pretty. What a shame that such a pretty pussy would go unfucked tonight. 

Eren leans back again, this time with a complacent hand tucked behind his head. He spits into his other and slathers it over his cock, unblushing at how your eyes follow every fluid movement.

“Go ahead,” he says, still calmly fisting his cock. “For real this time. Make yourself come for me.”

The encouragement travels straight to your core. You sink your middle finger in first, then add another. You curve them, drag them in and out, until you find a pace that has your thighs threatening to snap shut. You pull out of yourself one last time and, with wetted fingers, you return to your neglected clit. It only takes a few slick circles before your breath quickens.

“Yeah, just like that—fuck.” Eren feels his cock throb against his palm. He slows, pulling and tightening his grip, still pretending his hand is anywhere near as soft as your pussy. “You’ve listened so well. You deserve to come, don’t you think?”

You moan something incoherent. 

“Tell me,” Eren says, smug and urgent, somehow at once. “Tell me what a good girl you’ve been. That you deserve to come.”

Slippery, unforgiving sounds fill the room from both of you, but you’ve already shed and shred of decency you had left. You dipped your toes in first, and then you took a fateful dive. But now you’ve found the current has stripped away any semblance of control you had—or thought you had. 

You’ve become a passenger inside your own body. Every motion feels wild and unpredictable, yet intimately inevitable. It’s strange and exhilarating, this raw, primal surrender to what’s physical and nothing more. 

Flowery language aside, you know one thing for sure: as much as you enjoy hearing him talk filth to you, he enjoys hearing you just as much, if not more. 

“I’m a—ah, I’m your good girl,” you moaned. Your fingers struggle to keep up with your own neediness. “I deserve to come.”

His good girl. 

Eren’s stomach lurches, abdominals tightening. He nearly comes.

What a fucking gift you are. How lucky Eren feels to witness how you get yourself off when no one’s around. 

You bring a hand to your chest, caressing along your nipple gently poking through your shirt.

“Can I see your tits?” Eren blurts, unable to help himself.

“You first.” You giggle a little, then restate, “Take off your shirt.”

Eren grins before stripping, revealing a cute flush creeping up his chest. You stick to the deal and peel your shirt over your head. You skipped putting on a bra this evening because it was supposed to be a quiet night-in with friends, but it works for this scenario, too. 

You graze your fingers over the peaks of your breasts, bouncing just so with every rub, rub, rub of your hand. You bite back a harsh gasp, but little hums escape past your teeth anyway. 

Eren’s thighs twitch. He fights back the instinct to buck his hips and fuck up into nothing. His pants turn strained and exasperated. He thinks he might be numb to his hand at this point. He could use his spit again, but why should he have to when you’re right there, as desperate as he is?

Your name is a raspy plea on his tongue. His hand smooths up your leg as he coos, “I need to feel you, baby.” His thumb strokes your inner thigh, growing extremely close to the apex between them. “Need you to help me come. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Eren’s hands wrap around your ankles, tearing a yelp from you as he drags you toward him.

“I won’t put it in,” he promises. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your cunt against the underside of his cock. His hand somehow looks small in comparison as he holds himself at his base. He angles his cock until it’s about as close as it can be without touching you. “Please.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but even more frantically, it pulses between your legs. Loud and demanding, it’s as impossible to ignore as the man in front of you. Hot and horny, with messy hair and pretty pink cheeks and an even prettier cock leaking at the mere thought of touching you, staring at you like he wishes to devour you whole. 

You nod, and Eren doesn’t hesitate to push his cock between your folds. You watch as he does it, perched higher on your elbows. Even with the faintest amount of pressure, your jaw slackens. 

He rocks his hips, gliding his cock through you, up and down, with the ridge of his head nudging your clit. Your skin prickles despite the thin layer of sweat you’ve accumulated. 

You raise your lower half, dragging your pussy over him, then bring yourself back down to the bed. His cock jolts; you feel it. You repeat the undulating motion again and again, effortlessly, because you can’t recall a time you’ve ever been wetter. So wet that he slips out a time or two and uses the breaks to tap the tip of his cock to your clit.

Eren gives a low chuckle when your head falls back between your shoulder blades. “What a pretty little mess you are.” 

You angle your hips so he’s in the right spot, hitting your clit deliciously. It doesn’t take long for your legs to quiver, swaying as if they might give out. Eren steadies you with a hand resting on the divot of your hip.

“Oh, God, Eren.” Your voice pitches on a broken moan. “I think I’m gonna come.”

His large hand curves around your side, his fingers digging into the fat of your ass. He keeps you moving with his grip, guiding you through it even as your legs begin to falter. Barreling down the hill toward your release, you can’t stifle a single cry as they spill from you.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let it all out, baby,” Eren encourages, saccharine as always but airless. Though his own release is imminent, he refuses to let go until you’ve had yours. 

He flattens his fingers against his cock, pressing deeper, adding more pressure. He proves how heavy and hard he is for you—how much better he’d feel inside you. The mere thought makes you groan. You push back against him instinctively, arching your back as you teeter on the edge of your undoing.

“So fucking hot,” Eren groans, thrusting as if he were truly fucking you. He meets you each time you bear down on him, his pelvis slapping against you as his hips rise from the bed. “So fucking hot.”

That familiar feeling fizzes in your stomach, swarming and radiating through you. It sparks in the tips of your fingers, even in your toes, before your orgasm consumes you entirely. Your entire being tenses, fists knotting themselves in the sheet and eyes screwing shut. The pleasure is white hot and leaves you with stars behind your eyelids.

“Keep ‘em on me while you come,” Eren urges.

You try to open your eyes as tears well in the corners. The sight before him is pornographic. You looked ruined. Eyebrows pinched and pulled together, mouth open as if you wanted to scream out your orgasm. Your soaked thighs, his thighs you soaked—and not to mention the mess you’ve surely made on the bed. As you curse and cry his name, Eren can’t help but imagine how wrecked you’d look, how much better you’d feel, if you were coming with him inside of you.

Your knees snap together, thighs sealing shut around his cock. He continues to fuck between them, against your pulsing, oversensitive pussy. Your body is spent and shaking, and he’s right there with you. The sinewy muscles of his chest flex as he builds toward his climax. 

“God, fuck,” Eren pants. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna come all over this pussy.”

When he does, it’s with his head thrown back and a beautiful groan. His cock spills across your belly, dribbling down the creases of your thighs and smearing with the last few thrusts as he draws out every drop. He can’t believe he could feel so good from something as pathetic as grinding.

Your body lies limp, sprawling across the bed with your legs still draped over him. You wait for some post-horny clarity to smack you across the face, but the only slap you feel is the truth: you deserve better. You aren’t going back.

You stay there, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle. One moment you’re staring at the ceiling, then blink, Eren is above you, taking your cheek in his hand. His fingers curl around the side of your face before he places his mouth on yours. He’s soft, both in how he feels and how he kisses you, with lips slotted perfectly against yours, coaxing them open with his tongue.

You finally let him touch you this way; you kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you wish for the moment to stay, just for a little longer.

"Why, though?" You decided to focus on cleaning your weapon, the sharp smell of isopropyl alcohol filling the room.

"Because," Dante groaned, snatching the bottle of liquid from you, causing you to glare daggers at him, "I'm touch starved."

You blinked once, twice, trying your hardest to process both his honesty, and the logistics of his request.

"Why not ask for a hug, then? Or, I don't know, go to therapy?"

"Hah! I'm sure my therapist is gonna have a field day with me! So, my dad, a demon, disappeared without a trace, then my mother and twin brother died, but actually my brother is alive somewhere. My therapist is gonna need a therapist."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Still, you could just rephrase it. Maybe leave out the demon bit." You wiped the barrel clean before setting it aside.

"I'd rather get punched. Now, please."

"Dante, a punch isn’t gonna solve it. Are you sure you don’t want a hug? I could cook you something. Or we could grab a few beers and watch a movie, or talk about your feelings." You shrugged.

Both of you had done this before — went out for drinks, danced, cooked together, fell asleep together — it was so intimate, almost like you were a couple. But the reality was that you weren’t. Not by a long shot. Unfortunately for you, Dante was protective of you in the way an older brother was. You thought that, perhaps, he missed Vergil so much that you were the closest thing he had to a sibling in years.

"A punch would be less time consuming. Cooome on, babe, just hit me!"

You hated when he called you babe. He called other girls babe, girls that were hot, pretty, girls that were his type, and it was the nickname that made you clench your jaw and purse your lips.

"Ugh, fine!" You sat up, rotated your wrist and flexed your fingers. "Are you sure this is going to help in any way?"

"Positive. Right here." Dante pointed at his cheek.

"What, in your face?"

"You're stalling."

Without a single ounce of hesitation you swung your arm, hitting the demon hunter square in his face, but it caused you more pain than it did him, and you stumbled back, holding your fist in your other hand.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" You cried out in pain, knowing damn well that would happen. Still, you couldn't say no to him. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Dante was visibly concerned — a rare sight since he was always cool and edgy, even when his own life was in danger.

"Fuck no! Feels like I punched a brick wall!" You practically growled at him, gaze quickly softening when you saw the pure look of terror in his eyes. "But hey, nothing a little ice can't fix, right?"

"Right." He nodded and got up, making a beeline for the freezer.

There was no ice in it, but there was a pack of frozen peas somewhere at the bottom of a drawer, which Dante picked up and brought to you. When you reached for it, he, instead, took your sore hand in his, gently pressing the cold legumes onto your knuckles. You winced, instinctively trying to retract your hand, but he held it in place, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you from backing away.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was becoming bearable, and a relieved murmur escaped past your lips, one that sounded closer to a moan than a sigh. Dante's cheeks burned, tinted red with embarrassment and arousal because you were yet another girl in his life who just didn't want to be involved romantically with him. Not that he tried anything with you, because he always thought you deserved better. Sure, he was cocky and flirtatious, but he wasn't a dick. If no one reciprocated the flirting, he didn't push his luck. It was simple. And he wasn’t the type who did one-night stands, despite the rumours. Dante enjoyed having a connection to the people he took to bed, he became sexually attracted to those he knew on a deeper emotional level. But sometimes, when he was really, truly desperate, he would download Tinder and hook up with random girls.

And he reeked of desperation.

"Dante, you can let go of my hand now."  You told him, part of you hoping he wouldn't.

Who could blame you? He was an objectively attractive man, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Why would he ever want to get involved with you? Dante was your opposite — he talked, he sang, he danced, he was obnoxious. You were quiet, most of the time, and shy. In fact, when he first met you, he thought you had some form of speech impediment, with your nose in Boccaccio’s The Decameron, a book you stole from the public library because you were much too young to read. That’s when knew you were trouble, just like him.

"Yeah, of course." Dante stepped back. "How's your hand?"

"Better. How are you feeling?"

"Me? Why are you asking?"

"Hello?" You scrunched your nose and frowned. "You wanted me to punch you because you were touch-starved. Did it help?"

"I'll be honest, it felt more like a tickle than anything." He shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't pull your punch?"

There it was, the one thing that turned you from an introvert to a bat-shit crazy bitch — his stupid little mouth that he opened without ever thinking.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me I risked breaking my bones so you could feel better, only for you to not feel anything? I swear to fucking God, Dante, this is the last time I'm doing anything nice for you."

"Nice? You punched me!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, while your blood boiled inside of you, sending you into a blind rage.

"You asked me to punch you, you maniac! You should've fucked me instead!"

Your eyes widened at the sentence that came out of your mouth without a single thought, mortified at your own stupidity.

"Hugged. I meant hugged. Shit."

"No, no, hold up, you didn't say hugged." Dante tilted his head, one hand rubbing his chin. "Isn't that called a Freudian slip?"

"I- well- how the fuck do you even know what a Freudian slip is?" You tried changing the subject but he didn't bite.

"Google." He closed the gap between the two of you, and for the first time you felt intimidated by him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

The bluntness of his question, coupled with the sudden change in the pitch of his voice made you feel like a cornered prey. There was no possible way he was serious. But he wasn't wrong — the nature of your jobs made it impossible for either of you to have partners, and besides, you've known each other for years. It was only natural that some form of physical attraction would have developed between you two, right? But why you? Why now? And the worst of all your questions, why not?

You didn’t want to think about how this would ruin almost a decade of friendship. All you could think about was the look of pure lust in his eyes as he held your gaze, and how months upon months of sexual frustrations accumulated inside of you, bubbling and boiling and exploding when you dropped the pack of peas on the floor.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

Without a sliver of hesitation, you felt him pick you up with ease, hands roaming up and down his back as he slammed you down onto the table, desperately pushing away all the guns and knives. How thoughtful of him. Your hands slithered under his blood red coat while he tugged at your t-shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bare breasts to him.

"No bra? Kinky." Dante stopped to take a better look at you.

"Stop talking." You firmly told him, but the chuckle that erupted from your throat betrayed you.

He was the one person you felt most comfortable around, so much so that you didn't feel weirded out by him pressing his lips onto your neck, or his fingertips bruising the plush of your hips, or his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. No, it felt natural, too natural, like your skin was made to be touched by him.

With his coat on the floor, you tackled his shirt, effectively tearing it off of him because you were just as desperate as he was, and Dante pulled your body closer to his, your clothed cunt accidentally rubbing against the bulge in his trousers. You were aching from the lack of sex, and you uncontrollably moaned at the tiny bit of friction before mumbling a weak 'sorry.'

"Fuck, don't be. That's actually kind of hot." He shamelessly admitted, and you rose a brow.

"Yeah? Then you wouldn't mind me doing it again?" You chewed on your lower lip, but he could see past the fake innocence when you rolled your hips, frantically and feverishly rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. "Shit, I could come just from this."

For a split second, Dante wondered if this was all real. What happened to your shyness? How was it possible that his best friend, the quiet, nerdy girl he'd known for such a long time, was worse than any demon he'd ever encountered? Not that he was a saint. Far from it, because when you threw your head back, desperate to climax, his is eyes darkened, black seeping into his sclera. It should've made you afraid, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that he could activate his Devil Trigger and quite literally snap you like a twig turned you on.

"Do it, then." Dante's hand snaked behind the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. "Show me just how needy you are."

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you fucked yourself on the half-demon, fog settling in your brain with each breath, each movement, each beating of your heart. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

"Oh-" Any sentence you tried to utter stopped in your throat, replaced by a string of whimpers and curses. Whatever you were trying to babble was reduced to incoherent words.

"Well shit, I didn't know you were such a filthy little slut."

"Just- oh- shut up-"

"Hmm, I don't think you really want me to shut up." Dante sneered when you picked up the pace. "I think you like it when I talk like this."

"N-not true!" You yelped as he pinched your nipple, barely doing anything and yet you were a mess already.

"So, you don't want me to call you a fucktoy, then? Bet you're dripping right now. Bet you want me balls deep inside of you."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come!" You proved his point when your entire body quivered under his, mind blank and vision blurry.

"There, there." Dante pressed his lips onto your forehead. "I got you."

The noise of his belt unbuckling made you snap your eyes open, filling you with newfound desire and guilt — poor Dante, his cock was probably aching by now while you had the time of your life. He stepped back, letting his trousers pool at his feet, and you lifted your skirt to peel your panties off. You caught him staring at you, taking the sight in, and what a sight it was — locks of hair fell out of your bun, sticking to your sweaty temples, your legs still shaking from the orgasm, and your cunt dripping wet.

"I'd love to eat you out, babe, but my balls are genuinely gonna explode." He confessed, earning a giggle from you. Even with his eyes pitch black and his Devil Trigger on the verge of activating, Dante was still Dante. And you loved that about him.

"Hurry up and fuck me, then."

"Are you that desperate that you forgot your manners?" He dug his fingertips into the plush of your hips, violently pulling you closer to him.

"Please hurry up and fuck me?" You pouted.

"Good girl, that's better." Dante pushed your leg to the side with his elbow, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

You didn't get the chance to take a look at it, but the tip felt huge, so much so that you gasped, propping yourself on your elbows to see better, and you were not disappointed. In fact, you were concerned. You could not take it.

"Dante, it's not gonna fit."

He shook his head with a half-smile, finding your concern quite cute.

"I'll make it fit."

It was both a promise and a threat, but you trusted him. God, you trusted him with your life. He slowly and gently pushed the tip, your slick more than enough to lubricate his cock, but he stopped every time you looked uncomfortable to make sure you were okay.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"No, you can- it's fine, keep going." You closed your eyes, the discomfort causing you to clench around him instead of relaxing, which made Dande forget how to breathe or think.

But the worst came to a halt when he was fully in, stopping briefly to allow you to accommodate to the size. Your breathing went back to normal soon enough, and the last ounce of pain in your body was swiftly replaced by a surge of electricity when Dante moved, slowly and softly rolling his hips, unable to abstain any longer. And you didn't want him to when his cock filled you up so good, reaching places you didn't even know existed inside of your body. Your fingernails dug into his back, clawing at his skin with desperation and impatience, like you needed more than what he was already giving you.

"See? I told you I’ll make it fit. And you take me so well." Dante said, dragging his mouth over your neck, your scent overloading his senses.

But it just wasn't enough. No matter how painful, you wanted it-

"Harder."

Assertive, demanding, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled back to look at you, as if not believing your request.

"A minute ago, you were wriggling in pain, now you want it harder?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "I want it harder, faster, please-"

You were shushed by two digits forcing open your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking obediently.

"You talk too much." He gave you a taste of your own medicine. "Should've known you were just a dumb little cocksleeve."

The degrading words caused you to moan and drool around his fingers, tears welling up in your eyes. Each thrust had you clench tighter, the tip of his ridiculously large cock punishing your cervix. Pain and pleasure bubbled inside of you, sparking through your body as Dante practically ripped his fingers from your mouth, only to wrap them around your throat. He was a hungry man, and you were dinner — arching your back to get closer, deeper, you fucked yourself on his cock with his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, and he revelled in your worship.

"Shit, you like it when it hurts, don't you?" He whispered, squeezing harder while you nodded eagerly. "Of course you do."

Of course you did. How could you not when he fucked you so good that your dignity and modesty were long forgotten? When Dante stripped you of your decency to bring out the worst in you? You felt your second orgasm build up, causing you to twitch under him, eyes rolling back as you slipped your hands under his arms, holding on for dear life.

"Again- gonna come again, Dante! Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He held your quivering body, his own hips stuttering, brutally thrusting into you with raw, animalistic passion.

You came undone on his cock, fingers carding through his hair, pushing away white locks to look at his pretty eyes while his arm slithered under your lower back to both support you and bring you closer to him. Dante was close, his throbbing cock still stretching your sore cunt out. He bucked his hips, splitting you open while you latched your arms around his neck, tits pressed against his chest and your lips ghosting over his earlobe.

"Almost there, babe." Dante promised. "You're doing so well." He pulled back, nearly on edge, but you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Don't pull out." You demanded, and that was enough to help him reach enlightenment.

He filled you up, and when he did pull out, watching his cum slowly leak out of you, you could've sworn he whispered 'marry me' under his breath. Surely it was just the brain fog, or the post-orgasm high. Your whole body was numb, and you stumbled into Dante's arms when you tried to get down from the table, muscles sore and aching.

"You wanna get pizza?" He nonchalantly asked, as if he didn't just fuck his best friend.

"I- shouldn't we talk about this?" You avoided looking into his eyes, opting to stare at the floor instead.

"About what?"

God, he was either insufferably oblivious or remarkably good at pretending.

"Us." You sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" Dante's fingers found your chin, and he gently lifted it up, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't make this harder for me, please. You know things won’t be the same now. We’re not in a relationship and-"

"I don't follow." Confusion was written all over his face. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend?"

"Girl- I- hold up, what? Do you want me to be your girlfriend?" You tilted your head, baffled by his question, because of course you wanted to. You just never had the guts to admit that you like him. It was even more shocking that he liked you back. Wasn’t this all just a one-time thing?

"I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious when I fucked you. What, you thought I nut and dip? That I shoot a load and go back on the road? That I cum n go?"

"Wow, please never use those euphemisms ever again." You cringed at his words, trying your best to hide the smile that crept on your lips.

"Christ, babe, you know I don't do one-night stands unless I’m really desperate. And here I thought you were my best friend. Guess I was wrong." Dante gasped, dramatically feigning offence by placing a hand on his chest.

"I’m not your best friend anymore." You said, voice serious and cold, and his charade was quickly replaced by actual worry and offence. "I'm your girlfriend now. And your best friend."

"Okay, I was genuinely concerned. Fuck you." He flipped you off and you sneered.

"You already did."

"Wait, that's my line!"

The Way He Loves | @multific

Leon does not deliver grand speeches about love. Instead, he shows it through action.

The Scar Count | @/multific

You like to trace and kiss the scars that mark Leon’s body, wanting to know and love every part of him.

Birthday Boy | @bumblebeesfromvenus

Your need to spoil your boyfriend on his birthday with an elaborate celebration results in a misunderstanding with hurt feelings on both sides. But the pure love the both of you hold for eachother finds a way to mend all tears in the end.

PERSISTENT | @angelicsoka

three times leon has asked you out and the one time you said yes.

HADESTOWN | @/angelicsoka

leon kennedy didn’t believe in love at first sight. he couldn’t, not with his line of work. that is, until he met you. you were everything he was not. you looked for the light in the dark, so innocently positive. you hadn’t seen the horrors he has. maybe that’s why he fell so hard. it was nice coming home to someone who saw past the brooding, moody persona he held. everything about you was perfect and he selfishly wanted you all to himself. he married you quickly, he knew from the moment he met you that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. about a year into your marriage, leon comes home to find you gone and the house trashed, as if you fought like hell. desperate to find you and bring you back to him, leon is more than willing to travel to the ends of the earth to find you. he is willing to risk it all, for you.

Sunshine in the DSO | @deathbyapril

Leon Kennedy, the hard and stern DSO gets a visit from his sunshine and rainbows wife who brings him lunch and many are surprised to see him soften.

Leon Kennedy x wife!reader | @/deathbyapril

You interrupt another woman flirting with your husband Leon Kennedy at a bar.

Hope | @/deathbyapril

Leon Kennedy takes Grace back to his safe house, which just so happens to be where his wife lives.

Undercover Heat | @/deathbyapril

Leon Kennedy and his wife go under cover at a fancy party and she must pretend to flirt with someone else to get information and Leon gets very jealous.

re9! Leon | @cummingprincess

re9 leon as a husband  | @lilacgrayskies

making out with rookie!leon | @/lilacgrayskies

once a mom, always a mom | @aurorak28

you became a mother back in 2006, having three attached, clingy, and young children along with a husband that cannot leave you alone— does not give you much space.

THIRTY YEARS LATE | @viktateapot

Thirty years after the fall of Raccoon City, you and Leon return to the ruins of the police station. While searching through the debris of your past, you find something you thought was lost forever—a gift you had prepared for a rookie officer named Leon Kennedy on his first day. A gift he never received. Now, in the place where your nightmare began, you finally get to give it to him. Better late than never.

CERTIFIED GIRL DAD | @rednnedy

Having a daughter who's 4 means being asked questions all the time and all type of them... including when are you going to give her a baby sister

FIRST MORNING HOME | @/rednnedy

You and Leon just had your first baby, and while all you want to do is cuddling with your little girl after a very bad first night at home, you end up finding out she's cuddling with Leon... who says "skin to skin" is very important during the first days of life

THE WEDDING CHRONICLES Series | @/rednnedy

After leaving Raccoon City for a second time and, finally, having some time for himself, Leon has definitely his ideas in order, and one thing he wants to do with you as soon as he can is getting married

Get in line | @frogglezzz

the tutor in dorm 24B | @sweets3rial

you have no choice but to go to your math professor for help in the class. unfortunately, he can't help you. but he knows a certain blonde that can, top of his class, perfect scores on everything, just the tutor for you.

drabble | @xoxomaeby

“happy first day, officer kennedy” | @/xoxomaeby

Talk To Me | @forgetminot

You have been trying your best to avoid Leon; Ignoring his questions and running off into danger. What happens when he confronts you about it and you have nowhere to go?

i keep crawling back home. | @old6urgundy

Leon vs. Superglued jar Challenge | @breathings-of-the-heart

A Place that Stays, part two, part three | @/breathings-of-the-heart

you've recently joined the force as a forensic analyst, with the same bright-eyed enthusiasm that reminds Leon of his own rookey days. Unfortunately, your fast-moving, efficient brain tends to falter when faced with a work crush-- and you're not as invisible to him as you think.

Imagine | @saintlea

Leon, who immediately after being cured of the T-Virus, showed up to his ex-wife’s house.

Voicemails | @messenger-of-babel

When complications arise on his mission, all he has is one phone call back to you. 

That fucking quarter-zip shirt | @girlwithadragonheart

Two Ghosts | @tearsof-scarlet

Rural Spain was the last place you expected to see Leon Kennedy. He isn’t the rookie you left in Raccoon City, he’s colder, sharper, and harder to walk away from a second time.

Stay Close, Rookie | @/tearsof-scarlet

You’re the no-nonsense top officer at Raccon Police Department who swore off training rookies, right up until Leon Scott “golden retriever” Kennedy gets assigned to your hip.

Tactical Restraint | @/tearsof-scarlet

After surviving the horrors of Raccoon City, Leon S. Kennedy is recruited by the U.S. government to begin training as a special agent. The program is brutal, relentless, built to break even the toughest. You're one of the elite agents assigned to oversee his development. He reports to you, follows your orders but he can’t seem to stop his interest towards you.

Re9 Leon Kennedy x DSO agent | @leavemealoneplzs

Re9 retired Leon Kennedy | @/leavemealoneplzs

welcome leon | @heartyluv

re2!leon boyfriend hcs | @lac3angel

Masterlist | @leonsleatherjacket

salt & pepper, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 | @/leonsleatherjacket

you had worked in the dso for almost a year now doing logistics and communications. you preferred the quiet and being behind a screen. however, sherry believed that working as an assistant for leon would benefit not only you, but him too.  so you were now assigned as leon s. kennedy's assistant. both of you had your own problems, and it was only a matter of time until either one of you was going to crash.

there she is | @/leonsleatherjacket

recently, things have gotten worse and you struggle to leave the bed. your husband, leon s. kennedy, worries about you.

waiting for you | @/leonsleatherjacket

you have been leon's partner for 15 years, and your love for him never grows old. after so many years of breaking down those stubborn walls around him, he still finds it hard to understand that someone wants to take care of him- instead of vice versa.

wife! reader x husband! RE9! Leon | @/leonsleatherjacket

you have been leon's partner for 15 years, and your love for him never grows old. after so many years of breaking down those stubborn walls around him, he still finds it hard to understand that someone wants to take care of him- instead of vice versa.

A Soft Spot for You | @leonw4nter

Leon Kennedy Headcannons, Pt 2 | @cherryredstarz

Sleepy Mornings | @/cherryredstarz

Masterlist | @millimeraki

BRINGING HOME HOPE | @/millimeraki

You’re waiting for the call that will make you a widow. And then the front door opens.

Training Center | @/millimeraki

Within government service, you transfer to the DSO. The training is brutal, but the new job definitely has its advantages.

his eyes all over me | @familyvideostevie

I’m home, baby | @prsleysbabe

Leon comes back home after being away dealing with Victor Gideon and having to revisit his past… Raccoon city. With Leon’s infection, he thought he that was it for him, that he would never see you again. Luckily, Grace found the cure for Leon and now he’s better than ever and all he wants is you.

Take All My Love | @plutotheplum

to your chagrin, you get partnered with an irritating DSO agent who happens to take an interest in the case you’re working on.

You still married me. | @khonsus-heart

Chris’s team found Leon and the missing FBI agent he went looking for, so when you get the call that they’re alright. Nothing's stopping you from seeing for yourself.

You’re stuck with me | @/khonsus-heart

Leon has spent a lifetime saying goodbyes at doorways, in passing, and over distance, always promising he’d come back. But when the life he’s built finally stands on the edge of being taken from him, he’s forced to confront a truth he’s avoided for too long. Some goodbyes don’t wait for you to be ready.

You said you’d fix it. | @/khonsus-heart

When the memory of his former wife comes to haunt him and a long-buried infection resurfaces, Leon is forced to confront the one thing he’s always avoided...his own problems. As his daughter begins to show the same signs that took her mother, Leon races against time to fix what he couldn’t before. Because this time, he’s not just fighting to survive. He’s fighting to come back.

That’s my little missus, she’s my number one | @simping-for-joe

Leon isn’t shocked to see you demanded to see him. The other people around you are shocked to see his sweet soft wife suddenly on a rampage.

slice of life | @myfckintruckwontstart

short windows into your life with leon.

He's Safe | @softkammi

WELCOME HOME, MR. KENNEDY?, Part 2 | @konalis

Leon Kennedy's always survived everything. But being a dad? That's what really scares him. Twelve years of trying, a daughter on the way, and the T-virus threatening to steal the future you spent so long building.

Leon kennedy (re9) x fem!reader | @whohurtyouxoxo

A oneshot where Leon Kennedy (re9) comes home to his darling wife after a long struggling mission, however his wife has struggles of her own …

Day in the Life as Leon’s Wife | @coralreefqueen-ao3

snippets of what it is like to be the wife of the legendary Leon S. Kennedy. 

Come back to me | @midnightcrw

Leon calls you before returning to Raccoon City.

Thoughts of You | @glader13

Masterlist | @belovedcloud

One Bed | @/belovedcloud

who knew saving the president's daughter was so tiring? only you and leon knew the treacherous steps towards the hotel room that was supposed to rejuvenate you both. only for him to open the door and to see one bed.

“Re9 Leon Headcanons” | @danytar

PEACE WAS A LIE | @/danytar

Better Than Ever | @f41ryb0nes

comes home feeling better than he has in ages, and he knows just how to show you.

sad beautiful tragic | @totallynotmina

re4r!leon x fem!reader | @your-s-truly

re4r!leon x president’s daughter!reader | @/your-s-truly

YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH | @ceceisdownbad

it's been a long time since you've heard from Leon, all you could do was wait

his first and best | @kyougan

you feel that? | @/kyougan

you’ve earned it | @/kyougan

Just one more minute... | @shycloudkitty

Your husband has to leave for yet another mission but he's not quite ready to let you go yet… So he just savors…each… moment…

leon kennedy… as your husband. | @duckewrites

Eyes on You, Part 2 | @vickyminajj

A skilled intelligence agent is assigned as the partner of Leon S. Kennedy for a series of bioweapons investigations, and their partnership starts off tense as both expect the other to be difficult to work with. After several missions together, their constant banter at the agency slowly shifts into obvious flirting. As Leon begins finding excuses to stop by her desk and spend time with her, the growing tension between them finally leads to him asking her out for dinner, outside of a mission for the first time.

Let Him Go, Give Him Back | @monomyth-scribbles

Leon can tend to his own injuries. Sometimes, he prefers not to. After all, nothing compares to his wife's touch.

husband leon  | @harpsinfinity

You really like them a lot, don't you ? | @ninibeingdelulu

You just love your boyfriend’s arms

NOT EVEN THE GODS ABOVE CAN SEPARATE THE TWO OF US | @niki-phoria

leon can't bare the thought of losing you for a second. so what happens when you disappear for four hours in a haunted, monster-filled castle?

MORNING HAZE | @/millimeraki

Watching your husband sleep so peacefully gives you an idea. Just how deeply is he really sleeping?

shy assistant! reader | @/leonsleatherjacket

you had worked in the dso for almost a year now doing logistics and communications. you preferred the quiet and being behind a screen. however, sherry believed that working as an assistant for leon would benefit not only you, but him too.

You had just gotten home at least thirty minutes before Leon arrived from the RPD.  

Leon brought home some takeout from your favorite restaurant and even a tart of your favorite flavor for dinner, which you heartily share with him. It endears you how he’s so easily attuned to all the things you like, whether from dishes to dessert, to colors and hues that fit to your liking. That’s just how Leon is—the man you fell in love with ever since you knew him. But the debate remains between who fell first and who fell harder.

He’s more determined to claim that he is both. After all, what’s not to love about you? What is it about you that drew him in the first time you’ve met? Leon believes it’s just one thing, even though there are other factors that had him falling head over heels for you the second he discovered that heart of yours.

You’re kind. The type of person who would open doors for others in cafes, or let an elderly woman take your spot at a grocery line even when you have a cart full of stuff. You were always so understanding of others, and because of your multitude of sympathy, Leon makes it his goal to make sure you have someone in your corner who understands you too. 

Maybe it’s also how sweet you are to him. He used to think he’d be on the verge of a soul-crushing devotion towards you, and he feared all of it would be unrequited, one-sided. He gave you his entire heart on a silver platter, and at first, he half expected you’d turn him down because he knew he could be a bit overwhelming with how he showed you his affection and interest.

But much to Leon’s surprise, you returned his love and affections tenfold, and without second thought. You showed him how devoted you are too—through small or big gestures that brighten up his day, especially his life. 

Just like now. 

The two of you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom. Though the space was slightly cramped, you didn’t think ill of it because that just meant you’d be closer to Leon with your shoulders and arms brushing as you do your business. He looks at you through the mirror and smiles; you look rather endearing wearing your little headband after doing your skincare routine. 

After he spits and gurgles, he wipes his mouth with a nearby bath towel, before you do the same. It’s the simple domesticity of this life you share together that makes your heart ache in a good way—you realize early on in your relationship how much you enjoy living life with Leon. Doing the little things together. Experiencing milestones with each other. The list could go on. 

Like a little puppy, Leon follows you to the kitchen when you grab a glass of water to soothe your throat before going to bed. When you set it down on the sink, Leon decides to wrap his arms around your waist, before burying his face into your hair. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. “I like it a lot.”

You smile at his gentle musings. “Yeah? I tried this new face cream and body wash. It’s supposed to smell like something sweet.” You answer him, your hand drifting down to settle on his arm.

Leon tightens his arms around you, before he spins you around and then lifts you to the counter without breaking a sweat. Standing between your legs, he watches fondly as you giggle, your lips curving into a smile which has him falling in love with you over again. He looks at you like all he wants to do is kiss you until he can no longer breathe and think about anything else.

You beat him to it though. Cupping his face with both hands, Leon’s hands settle on your waist, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s just a soft brushing of your lips against his, and he practically melts against you. 

It lasts for a couple of seconds, maybe two, three—who’s counting? Definitely not Leon who feels like he’s on cloud nine just from kissing you. But then you’re pulling away, and he nearly groans from missing your mouth on his again.

Then, you’re pecking his lips a few times, eliciting a surprised grunt from him, and a spectacle of giggles from you. You shower his face with soft smooches and quick pecks, from the tip of his nose, to either of his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and then his jaw. 

You hear him giggle before you kiss his lips again. 

Leon giggling? 

That’s something new. 

You’ve never heard him giggle like that—like the sound is soft and carefree and almost… delicate as it echoes in the kitchen. He’s only laughed before, chuckled when he found something funny and wanted to share it with you immediately. But a giggle? A soft burst of happiness coming from his throat? Never; at least, not yet.

But now that you’ve heard it, you want to hear it again. You like hearing him happy, and if a ton of kisses on his face and a few quick smooches on his lips is what it takes, then you’ll gladly give him more.

“You like that, huh?” You say, almost playful.

A slow blush creeps along Leon’s cheeks. He avoids your gaze for a second before looking at you with an almost shy expression. 

“Well you’re kissing me. I mean, my beautiful girlfriend is kissing me. What more could I ever want?” He replies, trying to hide his mildly embarrassed face from you.

That endears you even more. You can’t help yourself; you cup his cheeks and squeeze them just a bit, until Leon’s lips are puckered in front of you, which makes you chuckle just a bit. Instead of being annoyed, though, Leon just lets you do what you want, because you seem so happy like this. If you find him adorable, then who is he to refuse whatever title you have for him? 

Afterwards, you lean in and kiss him again on the mouth, slow and steady this time, savoring the feel of his sweet lips against your own. Your hands circle around his neck, and you pull him closer as he stands between your legs. Leon kisses you back just as much, with his hands tightening just a fraction on your hips, his scent wafting over your senses.

Without thinking, you pull away, and Leon chases after your lips. But you’re pressing your mouth against his jaw, sweet and sensual, lathering his skin with a few soft pecks, until he’s tilting his head back to give you more access to his neck.

You oblige immediately, pressing more and more kisses underneath his jaw, until you reach the side of his neck. Leon groaned, the sound ragged and breathy, especially when you start sucking a sweet spot over it and down the column of his throat, littering his skin with small, reddish marks. 

By the time you’re pulling away, Leon’s breath is hot and heavy, puffing out in short rasps. The effect you have on him is indescribable, especially when you take the lead just like this. It’s not often that you do, but when you take control even just for a moment, Leon absolutely loses his mind over it. Over you.

“Gosh, Y/N…” he mumbles, almost dazed. “Did you just leave hickeys on me?”

You giggle as you watch him touch his neck, fingers brushing over the reddish marks you’ve left on his throat. “Maybe,” you answer coyly. “You don’t like it?”

Leon exhales a ragged breath. “Quite the opposite actually.” He muttered under his breath, but you heard him almost immediately. “The things you do to me…”

He trails off, avoiding your gaze as he clears his throat, almost awkwardly. When you follow his gaze, your eyes widen, seeing the obvious outline of his arousal straining against his gray sweatpants. You exhale a soft, breathless chuckle.

“Oh… I see,” you say, smirking. “Aren’t you sweet?”

Leon groans, burying his face onto your shoulder as you continue teasing him. You reach down, trailing your hand south, touching his bare chest and his abs, before Leon stops you, his hand wrapping around your own before you can even reach uncharted territory.

“Y/N…” He whines and the sound makes you shiver. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I have no intention of finishing this with you?”

As if a switch flipped in his mind, Leon grunted against your neck, before he’s collecting you between his arms. He urges you to wrap your legs around his waist, his strong arms supporting your weight while you hold onto him. Then, Leon carries you to your bedroom, kicking the door behind him as he walks toward your cozy, unmade bed.

He lays you down gently before climbing on top of you, his hands on either side of your neck. You see his dog tag dangling down his neck, and the sight makes you blush. You can’t deny it—Leon is absolutely, mindblowingly attractive. 

You stare into his eyes, those oceanic blues that stare right back at you. His pupils are dilated—so much so that nearly most of it covered his irises. He looks at you like he’s looking at something he loves so much—reverently and adoringly so. Then, slowly, he dips his head, before capturing your lips with his own. 

You hold him close, wrapping your hands around his neck as you make out, and all the while, you focus your attention on him and him alone, just as Leon gives you his undivided attention. He reaches underneath your oversized shirt (it’s his), and cups your waist with his large, calloused palm.

“This is what you get for kissing me like that,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, a low rasp that sends sparks flying around you. 

You smile, exhaling a soft breath. “I don’t mind. Are you about to punish me for it?” 

Leon shakes his head. “I’m about to love you.”

“But you already do.”

“Not enough,” Leon murmurs, before nuzzling into your neck. “After tonight, I’ll make sure you know and feel it until you lose your breath, until you will never, ever question just how much I do.”

⤷ a/n: hi! sorry it's taking me a while to post fics lately. i'm at the last leg of my internship so i intend on finishing it (i have 3 days left) before i post some more! for now, please have this little blurb i wrote impulsively, because i love re2 leon and he's absolutely one of my favorite leons ever!

by the way, my taglist is open if you want to be a part of it! also, i'm putting requests on hold for now since i want to finish the ones i have first before writing and accepting more, i hope you understand! 🫶

anyway that's that for me, expect another fic coming soon (and potentially a series i'm working on for RE9 leon!) have a wonderful day! 🤍

🔖 taglist: @rednnedy @eu4rialy @jqsjournal @ce98ne @itimisu @danigirls-missions

note: dividers are from @/cursed-carmine.

you sat in your driveway, engine still running, staring through your window at the heavy sheets of rain hammering down on the pavement in a powerful crescendo. the short walk up your driveway suddenly felt like a trudge through a fierce snowstorm. you glance at your backseat, nearly a dozen flimsy brown paper bags overflowing with groceries. you groan, already imagining the bags disintegrating the moment you step out of your car. just as your hand reached for the door handle, bright, almost blinding headlights swept across your yard.

it was none other than leon, your stoic yet snarky neighbor, a well-rounded man who just couldn't seem to leave you be. the loud roar of his engine silenced as you watched him step out from his car without hesitation, rain soaking his hair and clothes immediately.

the fabric of his shirt stuck to his frame, emphasizing every muscle on his chest and protruding vein along his biceps. leon was pretty tall— not overbearingly tall, but certainly an ideal height. his solid, well-built frame came from years of physically straining work, a career that put more stress on his body than any gym ever could. his dark blond hair, usually carefully styled, was now plastered to his forehead, water droplets dripping from the ends and running down the sharp line of his jaw.

his eyes caught yours through the window, a small smile on his face even in the pouring rain. leon was usually quite stoic— quiet, observant, and to himself most days— but with you he was different. open, flirty, and a little too persistent. he just could not seem to leave you alone, and as embarrassing as it is to admit it, he was actually pretty helpful... especially in times like these. god, you wished you weren't so helpless around him.

he jogged over to your car, boots splashing through unsuspectingly deep puddles as he made it over to you, a playful smirk gracing his features. he tapped lightly on the glass with two knuckles, brow raised in a mildly teasing way that you'd quickly become accustomed to over the past few months living here.

you rolled the window down, allowing him to rest his elbow on the side of your car to speak to you. "stuck in the rain, huh, sweetheart?" he smiles, voice low and warm, carrying that familiar teasing lilt that made your skin raise with goosebumps. "or are you just here admiring the lovely weather while the rest of us get soaked?" you couldn't help the small smile that graced your face at his sly comment, shaking your head before explaining the predicament you were facing.

leon chuckles heartily as you explain, hands pushing off your car and glancing towards the back as he notices the plethora of groceries. "unlock the back for me, beautiful. couldn't stand to see you get drenched like this." he smirks, winking at you as you unlock your car door for him. you can just feel the warmth creep up your neck at his words, your mind automatically associating the comment with something dirty. he knows exactly what he's doing, you think, swallowing your spit as you stare at him through your side mirror.

he worked quickly and efficiently— the way he always did when he was helping you with something. in no time, he had rounded up most of the heavy paper bags of food and other essentials in his arms. the sight of his biceps flexing under the soaked fabric of his shirt and the way his veins bulged against his forearms from the effort truly felt sinful. you could hardly draw your attention back to the task at hand as you ogled him. pushing your distracting thoughts away, you mentally prepare yourself to step out into the endless onslaught of rain.

grabbing the two lightest bags, you hurriedly jumped out of your car and dashed the short distance to your covered porch. by the time you reached it, you and leon were both thoroughly drenched, the earthy notes of petrichor sticking to your bodies. your clothes clung uncomfortably to your skin, and leon's grey t-shirt was practically glued to his torso, outlining every firm ridge and muscle across his chest, abdomen, and arms.

he set the bags down carefully against the brick so the contents inside wouldn't spill out, then ran a rough hand through his hair, squeezing the water out with his fist. leon turned to you, a soft, endearing smile on his face as water continued to drip down from his hair and down his face despite his efforts.

"see, told 'ya i'd save the day," he says, voice raspy and warm with that same teasing tone he always took with you. "can't have my favorite neighbor spilling all her groceries everywhere, right?" he chuckles, the deep sound sending shock waves up your spine as you smiled shyly up at him, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your face in your pursuit to the front door.

"thank you, leon... you really didn't have to come running over in the rain like that for me. i would've figured something out." you tell him, eyes locked onto his as you assess his expression. he waved you off and leaned against the porch post casually, arms crossing over his broad chest, causing his shirt to pull even tighter— if it could get any tighter, that is— across his shoulders and pectorals.

"i know you would've," he replied, smiling down at you, head tilted to the side. "you're stubborn like that, sweetheart. i'd know, you never want me to help you. ‘s‘cause you can do it yourself, right?" he nods towards you, an amused expression gracing his features. you felt a small, knowing smile tug at your lips despite the way your cheeks were warming at his accusation. he wasn't wrong. you had turned down his help more than once, insisting you could handle your own. i mean, that's what you were used to growing up in the city— every man for himself. asking for help had always felt like a weakness.

but standing here on your porch, soaked to the bone with leon looking at you like that, it was getting harder for you to keep denying him.

water continued to drip steadily from his hair down to the rest of his body. you sucked in a sharp breath as you averted your gaze from his distracting frame and met his eyes once more. the longer you stood there, the more you noticed his eyes skimming over your rain-soaked form. your thin t-shirt was completely drenched, clinging uncomfortably to your curves and leaving very little to the imagination under his heavy gaze. to make matters worse, the black bra you'd chosen that morning with a delicate lace trim you now deeply regretted wearing— was clearly visible through the wet fabric.

leon's eyes lingered there for a moment, just long enough for you to look around awkwardly as you felt heat traveling up your neck and spreading across your cheeks. when his gaze finally lifted back to your face, there was a new darkness in those icy blue eyes, pupils blown wide and gaze intense under your faltering one. he pushed off the porch post and took a slow step closer, closing some of the distance between the two of you. rain continued to hammer down just beyond the overhang; the once loud pattering of raindrops reduced to white noise as you stared up at him.

"besides," he murmured, voice dropping lower as he stood mere inches away from you, "i don't mind getting a little wet, sweetheart. long as i get to help you out, yeah?" he whispered, tilting his head as he peered down at you. your breath catches at that, his suggestive tone making you inhale sharply. you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the way your nipples had hardened from the cold rain and the intensity of his stare, but it only seemed to amuse him more.

leon's expression softens into something warmer, though the desire in his eyes was apparent. he reached out slowly, brushing his hand across your cheekbone to push a stray strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. his calloused thumb lingered on your face for a moment, brushing against the swell of your cheek before pulling away.

"you're shivering, sweetheart," he said softly, a hint of concern in his voice mixed with slight amusement as his dark eyes assessed your form. "c'mon, let's get you inside. wouldn't want you to get a cold. i'll help you put everything away, yeah?" you blink dumbly, still a little dazed from the physical contact before nodding absentmindedly. you fiddle with your keys briefly, hands shaking slightly as you struggle to put the key in place. once you finally unlock the door, you hold it open for leon as he gathers the heavy bags again effortlessly, setting them down carefully on the island in your kitchen.

the sound of rain becomes muffled as you shut the door behind you with your foot, kicking your shoes off while carrying the two remaining bags into the kitchen before placing them next to the others. the air around you and leon feels charged, the only sounds present in the room were your soft breaths and the steady drip of the water from both of your clothes onto the tile floor. you quickly find something to do with your hands, reaching into the bags to start putting your groceries away. you couldn't take the quiet atmosphere, never once gotten used to the quaint silence of suburbia.

leon didn't move to leave, instead, he leaned his hip against the counter and watched you with that calm, observant gaze that always made you nervous. his soaked shirt was still clinging to his skin sinfully, and you had to force yourself to not stare at the man.

after a long, quiet moment of you unpacking the goods, he spoke again, his voice lower and rougher around the edges.

"you know, i keep finding reasons to come over here," he said, pushing off the counter to step closer to your frame which had visibly stiffened at his words. "fixing your porch light, mowing that little strip of grass between our lawn, carrying your groceries..." he continued, voice dropping to a low, sultry drawl. "maybe i should stop pretending it's all just me being a good neighbor, huh, sweetheart?" you freeze at his boldness, intrigued at what he meant by "pretending." you'd figured leon was just lonely and liked your company, you'd been there, but you wouldn't have imagined this. perhaps you were much too oblivious to catch on.

leon was now just a foot away, looking down at you with a sultry expression that made your whole body feel hot. he leans down to your ear, deft hands twirling a damp strand of your hair between his pointer finger and thumb, the gesture surprisingly tender.

leon reached down with his other hand and gently took the eggs that you'd been holding dumbly from your hands, setting them down on the counter so he'd have your full attention. he then moved to place both of his large hands on the edge of the counter, caging you in. leon's head dipped lower, lips hovering just beside your ear so you could hear him clearly. you shuddered, breath catching in your throat at the close proximity. god, you think you might explode.

"i've been real patient, sweetheart," he purred lowly in your ear, breath fanning against your skin. "coming over with tools, fixing whatever you need, telling myself i'm just being helpful..." he confesses, and you swallow at his bluntness. you couldn't believe this was your life right now. you knew he was flirty, which was never an issue, but you didn't expect to like it as much as you did. you reveled in the closeness, exhaling softly as he continued.

"but if i'm being honest, darling," he pauses, hands gripping the counter tightly behind you, voice rough as he continues, "i'm not thinking about the fucking porch light or the leaky faucet. i'm thinking about you." he pulls back from your ear slowly, gaze flicking down to your chest again, where your wet t-shirt and black lace bra were still clearly visible. your chest was rising and falling faster than earlier, nipples visibly hardened from the cold rain and the heat of his attention. he curses under his breath, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes settle back on your face.

"but i'm no dummy, either, baby. don't act like you don't know what you're doin’ to me." he says, almost condescendingly, voice low and rough with barely restrained hunger. he leans in even closer, one hand leaving the counter behind you to slide boldly up your hip, thumb caressing the small of your waist through the soaked fabric. your breath hitches, eyes tracking his hand as you subconsciously lean into his touch.

"so tell me, you gonna keep playing dumb or are you finally gonna let me have you, huh?" the question hangs heavily in the air between you. leon doesn't move any closer, he just studies your expression closely with slow, deliberate circles of his thumb over the wet material of your shirt. his gaze is intense, unapologetic, almost daring you to look away from him. you stood, frozen in space, staring dumbly up at leon as you try and gather your thoughts. your mind felt foggy, the only thing you could truly focus on was leon's slow movements on your waist.

your lips are parted slightly and your heart thumps against your ribcage, your wide eyes staring into leon's half-lidded ones, the atmosphere in the room thick. you were at a loss for words. this was leon— your neighbor, the man who fixed your porch light without being asked, who carried your groceries in the rain, who always had that easy, soft smile for you. you'd caught yourself thinking about him more than you wanted to admit— the way his veiny arms flexed when he worked, the low timbre of his voice whenever he called you “sweetheart,” the way he'd wave at you every time you'd head inside from a long day at work.

and now he was right here, caging you against your own kitchen counter, telling you exactly what he wanted.

the chilly sensation the rain left on your body had long since subsided and your whole body now felt hot, burning under his stare as you struggled to form a coherent sentence. your mouth opened and closed embarrassingly, settling on shutting it as you melted under the intensity of his stare.

leon's thumb moved in those slow, maddening circles, occasionally brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, teasing the bare skin of your waist. your skin was hot against his touch, goosebumps forming in wake of his cold thumb caressing the skin softly. he waited for your response, a brow raised in question as he smiled down at you softly.

after a few seconds of silence, he lets out a low, rough chuckle.

"aww, baby," he cooed, voice dripping with dark amusement. "too flustered to say anything? you're real cute, baby." he says, tilting his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours. his stare was dangerous, predatory, hungry with desire as he all but devoured your frame with his eyes. his thumb dips just a little higher under your shirt each time, brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ribs. you twitch a little at the touch, his cold hands tickling the skin of your abdomen. his hands felt hypnotizing on you, as if every small circle he traced was pulling you in deeper into his trance.

"you don't have to be brave with words right now, baby." he continued, voice low and confident as he expertly assessed your nervous frame staring up at him. "i can see how fast your heart's racing." he says, breath fanning over your lips in a hushed whisper, "and i can definitely see how hard your nipples are pressing against that pretty black lace." he observes, eyes glancing down to your chest to punctuate his words before looking back up to your flushed face.

your spit caught in your throat in at his boldness. the rain had long since been forgotten, and you were no longer shivering. in fact, your whole body felt feverish under leon's intense, brooding stare. you wanted to say something, anything to not seem like a total ditz, but all you could do was stare up at him in a haze.

leon hums, offering you a sympathetic smile at your shyness. despite his soft expression, the heat behind his eyes never faltered.

"you've been driving me crazy for months, sweetheart," he confessed, letting out a soft exhale as his other hand reaches up to play with a loose strand of your hair again. "every time you smile at me all shy when i help you, when you bend over to tend to your flowers in those little shorts... i've had to walk away and tell myself to behave."

he leans in further, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice dropped to a rough whisper. you shudder, thighs pressing together as he presses a chaste kiss to the outside of your ear.

"but i'm done behaving, sweetheart. i won't play these games with you anymore." he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes again, bold and unapologetic. "so i'm only gonna ask once more," he said, thumb dipping higher, brushing under the curve of your breast where the wire of your bra sits. "you gonna keep playing shy... or are you gonna let me have you, baby?" he repeats, eyes piercing into yours with a gaze so intense you think you might explode.

the kitchen felt impossibly small. the rain was still pouring outside, but you had hardly noticed with the way leon's body was pressed so close to yours. the air was almost suffocating with how hot his hand felt on your skin, looking at you like he was ready to devour you the second you said yes.

your mouth opened and closed again almost embarrassingly. you finally managed one shaky breath before the words slipped out, soft and breathless: "...i want you, leon." a slow, satisfied smirk spreads across leon's face, expression dark as he finally hears the words he'd been waiting to hear fall from your pretty lips for what felt like eons.

"that's my girl." he coos, the hand that was absentmindedly twirling your hair around his finger fervently pushes the strand behind your ear. without another second of hesitation, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss. his lips are slightly chapped, slotting against yours perfectly as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

the kiss was anything but gentle— it was demanding, full of all the months of tension he'd been holding back. his hand traveled up the nape of your neck and into your hair, fingers threading through the wet strands as he tilted your head just the way he wanted, deepening the kiss with a low groan that vibrated against your mouth.

you melted into it, hands instinctively coming up to clutch at his soaked shirt, feeling his chest muscles flex under your touch. leon presses you back against the counter, one thick thigh sliding between your legs to keep you steady as he devoured your mouth. you gasped at the stimulation to your core, eyebrows furrowing as his tongue sweeps past your lips, brushing against your own wet muscle. you moan at the contact, the feeling of his tongue against yours so incredibly delicious as you feel a pit begin to settle in your stomach.

he finally pulls back for air, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard. a thin string of saliva connected your lips for a moment before it broke, your lips glossy and hot from making out. leon's eyes were dark, half-lidded, and burning as he stared at you intensely.

"fuck..." he breathed, voice strained and low as he catches his breath. "been dying to hear you moan like that for months." his thigh presses a little firmer between your legs, giving you just enough pressure to make your hips twitch. you whine, tilting your head slightly, staring into leon's eyes with a desperate expression painted on your pretty face.

"so needy," he murmured, lips brushing against yours teasingly. you chase his lips, only to have him pull away at the last second, leaving you whining. he chuckles lowly, hand coming up from your waist to brush against your cheek. "i haven't even touched you properly yet, baby. you needed me that badly, huh, sweetheart?" you nod, desperate, biting your lips briefly before leon leans back in.

he kisses you once more— slower this time, savoring the soft moans and whimpers that leave your mouth as he moves his thigh subtly against your heat to give you some more friction. your mouth falls open slightly more, a whiny moan leaving your mouth as leon pulls away to ogle at your frame under him.

his hand delves under your shirt again, moving higher to cup your breast through the soaked lace of your bra. his thumb cascades over your pebbled nipple, making you arch into his touch with a soft, needy sound. he curses, looking down at you to gauge your reactions. he circles his thumb experimentally around your small, erect nub, a tightness forming in his damp pants as he watches you writhe under his touch.

"please, leon, more..." you whine, staring up at him with a needy expression on your face.

"god, you're so responsive," he groans, voice heavy with desire as he watched your brows furrow at his touch. "look at you, arching into my hand like you were made for it. damn thing's been teasing me for far too long, baby. shame it's gonna to have to come off, isn't it, sweetheart?" he says sarcastically, raising a brow teasingly before reaching under your shirt to undo the clasp of your damp bra.

leon's hands tug at the ends of your shirt, pulling the useless fabric up and over your head while you shrug out of it. he tosses the flimsy material on the island, eyes fixated on the one article of clothing he'd been dying to snatch off the whole night. hurriedly, leon's deft hands race to pull the bra off you in one smooth motion, setting it next to the shirt he'd just rid you of.

you couldn't stop the soft, breathy moan that escaped you as leon reached out to cup each of your breasts in his hands. "got such pretty tits, baby," he says, staring into your dazed eyes as he fondles them. "so fuckin' perfect." he squeezed them gently, pushing them together in his large palms before letting them settle again. he leans down, pressing hot, open mouth kisses down the column of your neck, sucking occasionally at the flesh until he reached your chest.

leon's tongue darts out to lick a thin, teasing stripe up your left nipple, his saliva coating the hardened bud. he blows ever so slightly, causing you to shiver at the cool sensation. you can't help but let out a strangled moan as his other hand works your right nipple, rolling it between his thumb and pointer finger. your core clenches as he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, mouth sucking the nub fervently.

"fuck, leon... feels good..." you trail, hips subtly grinding down into the thick muscle of his thigh that was still pressed between your soaked core, desperate for more friction. leon groans deeply at the sound of your sweet voice, the low vibration traveling straight through your nipple he has trapped between his lips. his eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and burning with desire, while his thumb continues its slow, relentless assault on your right nipple.

"yeah, baby? feels so good, right?" he breathes out, pulling off your nipple with a wet pop, lips shiny with saliva. a thin string of spit connects his mouth to the swollen peak before it breaks. you nod with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm, tears nearly pricking at your eyes just from how horny you are. your hips grind down on his meaty thigh harder this time, tiny, desperate moans slipping from your mouth as you stare at him, eyes practically begging him to give you more.

leon's eyes flare with dark satisfaction as he watches you nod so eagerly, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, hips grinding down desperately against his thigh. "feels that good, huh?" he breathes, thumb giving your right nipple one last slow roll before his hands slide down to grip your waist. "fuck, sweetheart…" he leans in, pressing a small kiss to your collarbone, then trails lower, running his lips over your chest while his hands slide down to pop the button on your pants, pulling the zipper down in one smooth motion.

the damp fabric clings stubbornly to your skin as he tugs at it, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants and panties together. you lift your hips to help him, elbow rested atop the counter behind you to balance yourself. he tugs the soaked layers down your legs in one steady pull, tossing them aside on the kitchen floor with a damp slap. the cool air kisses your overheated, dripping cunt and you shiver, a soft whimper escaping your lips under leon's quiet, intense stare. you're now completely bare in front of him, eyes gazing up at him needily as you gauge his expression.

leon is practically hypontized, his gaze dropping between your thighs, eyes darkening with raw, unrestrained hunger. he wets his lips slowly with his tongue, as if he's already imagining how good you're going to taste. he steps closer, right hand traveling down your abdomen and in between your thighs. his palm is warm against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. he slides two fingers between your thighs, running his middle finger through your slick slit, parting your folds and gathering your wetness.

a low, appreciative hum escapes him when he feels how incredibly soaked you are. he pulls his hand back and holds his glistening fingers up between you, the dim light catching on the shine coating the digits. his eyes pierce into yours as he brings his fingers closer to your face, offering them to you.

"open." he commands, his voice rough and assertive as he presses his middle and ring finger to your lips. when your lips part obediently, he slides his fingers into your mouth, letting your taste yourself. his thumb brushes your bottom lip and you suck gently, eyes locked onto his.

"that's it, sweetheart. taste how fuckin’ wet you are for me," he drawls, watching your tongue swirl around his finger with hooded eyes. "shit… such a dirty fucking girl.” pulling his fingers free with a soft pop, he brings it to his own mouth, sucking it clean with a deep groan. the sight makes your core clench uncontrollably, begging to be stuffed with something, anything at this point.

and with that, leon drops to his knees in front of you, slinging one leg over his shoulder to open you up to him. you grip the counter behind you tightly, balancing yourself as leon grips the soft plush of your thigh. he leans in, hot breath fanning over your dripping cunt, and presses a soft, short kiss to your clit. you whine, eyes looking into his pleadingly.

he only smiles up at you from between your thighs, that dark, knowing smile that makes your stomach flip. he leans in again, dipping his head lower and licking a slow, thick stripe up your folds from your entrance to your clit. when he reaches the swollen bud, he flicks the wet muscle against it with the perfect pressure.

you twitch hard, a soft, needy moan slipping from your lips as sparks of pleasure rush through you.

watching your reactions, leon hums lowly before taking your sensitive clit in between his lips, suckling the bundle of nerves while flicking his tongue. his tongue draws small, deliberate circles over the trapped bud, forcing out louder, higher pitched moans from you. the sensation is almost overwhelming. your hips jerk, a hand flying to his damp hair as he works you with his mouth. you fingers grip at his strands tighter than you mean to, earning a low groan from leon. the sound vibrates straight through your clit, head falling back ever so slightly as he continues his assault.

leon presses a single digit to your folds, running his finger up and down before pushing it past your slit. you're so wet that it slides in easily, but still he takes his time, curling it gently at first before pressing an additional finger to your clenching pussy. he pumps his fingers slowly, angling his fingers upwards in a hook to press against your g-spot.

"fuck, listen to those pretty sounds, sweetheart," he mumbles against your pussy, voice muffled and rough. "grippin' my fingers so tight... my pretty girl’s just been waiting for me to split her open, huh, baby?" his words vibrate through you as he continues to suck at your clit with such vigor that you feel tears prick at your eyes from how fucking good it feels. you let out a sob, eyebrows knitted together as you begin to feel a pressure begin to tug at your lower abdomen.

his fingers begin to speed up, hooking upwards inside you as he feels for the spongy bump of your g-spot. every stroke making wet, obscene sounds echo in the kitchen, mixing with your high pitched, breathy moans and the steady thrum of the rain outside.

you're trembling, hips jerking uncontrollably as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter with every curl of his fingers and every suck on your clit. your grip on his hair tightens even more, tugging hard enough to pull another groan from his throat. only when your thighs begin to shake violently around his head and your moans turn into desperate, broken cries does he finally pull his mouth off your clit with a wet pop. he looks up at you, lips and chin glistening with your arousal, eyes dark and burning.

"leon, w-what the fuck?" you sob out, a single tear rolling down your heated cheeks as you stare at him in desperation, eyebrows knitted together in confusion at your ruined orgasm. he chuckles darkly, fingers pulling out of your core as he rises to his feet to press a chaste kiss to your forehead to console you. he wipes the tear that rolls down your cheek and pushes your hair behind your ear while cooing at your frustrated form.

"not yet, sweetheart." he rasps, holding your chin in place with his thumb as he forces you to look at him. "gotta bury my cock in this tight little cunt first," he whispers, pressing a brief kiss to your pouty lips as he stares down at you. reaching his strong arms under your thighs, he scoops you up in one smooth motion. your legs wrap around his waist automatically, your dripping cunt pressed hot and slick against his abdomen as he carries you up the stairs without any effort.

he walks down the hallway to your bedroom, having already known its location from when he came over to change your window’s film which had desperately needed replacing.

kicking open your bedroom door, he walks you over to the bed and sets you down in the middle, your form sprawling out as you prop yourself up on your elbows. leon stands at the end of the bed, pulling the tight shirt off his body as you watch in delight. he makes quick work of his jeans and boxers as well, tossing the articles of clothing aside as he descends onto the bed.

your mouth is open in awe as you ogle at his thick cock, the tip leaking with small dribbles of precum. he was big, the base thick and heavy, the shaft curving slightly upward with prominent veins running along its length. it twitched under your hungry gaze, another bead of precum sliding down the flushed head.

leon's lips curl into a smug, knowing smirk as he catches you staring. "you want this, sweetheart?" he purrs, voice low and rough with arousal. he wraps his large hand around the base, giving himself a slow, lazy stroke from root to tip, spreading the slick precum over the head. his eyes never leave yours, thick with lust.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch him stroke his thick cock right in front of you, the wet sound of his hand gliding over slick skin making your empty pussy clench desperately around nothing. the ruined orgasm still has your nerves buzzing, every inch of you hypersensitive and aching for relief.

leon's smirk deepens at your obvious hunger. "yeah... you do," he answers for you, voice a raspy, filthy rumble. he leans in close, releasing his cock and letting it slap heavy and wet against his abs. his hands slide up your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he spreads you wider, exposing every inch of you to his hungry gaze. "look at that. so fuckin' desperate for me. dirty girl, dripping all over the sheets just from watching me stroke it." one thick finger drags through your folds, collecting your slick before he brings it to his mouth and sucks it clean. his eyes flutter shut for a second, like he's savoring the taste of you, then snap back open again, his gaze more intense than before.

he shifts up the bed slowly, every muscle in his torso flexing as the mattress dips under his weight. his cock drags a scorching, sticky trail up your stomach, leaving a shiny smear of precum across your skin. when he settles between your thighs, the blunt, leaking head nudges right against your swollen clit, making your hips jerk up involuntarily. you let out a whine, your patience nearly spent as you glare at him, annoyed.

"easy, sweetheart," he chuckles darkly, pinning your hips down with one big hand. "you'll get it when i say so."

he rocks his hips forward, sliding the entire length of his cock along your pussy up and down, coating himself in your arousal until the wet, obscene sound of it fills the room. every pass bumping the head against your clit, then dragging back down to tease your entrance, never quite pushing inside. your hands fist the sheets, back arching, broken little whimpers spilling from your lips as the teasing from downstairs makes every nerve ending scream for more.

“leon… please—” you gasp, voice cracking. you were nearly about to give up.

“please what, sweetheart?” he taunts, leaning down to bite at your jaw, your throat, sucking a fresh mark into the skin just below your ear. “use your words, yeah? tell me exactly what you want me to do to this pretty pussy.”

you’re shaking, thighs trembling around his waist, but the words tumble out anyway, much different from your bashful slurry of words from before. you beg, lip quivering desperately as you nearly cry out of sheer frustration. “fuck me… god, leon, i need your cock inside me right now. please, i can’t, i need it—”

he groans against your neck, the sound vibrating through you. “that’s my girl.” in one smooth motion he flips you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up so you’re on your knees, ass high in the air. you barely have time to catch your breath before he’s gripping your hair and tugging your head back, angling it to look towards the mirror on the right side of your bedroom.

“mirror,” he growls against your ear. “eyes on the mirror the whole time, baby." he drawls, hands caressing the fat of your ass with his other hand as he presses himself against you.

your gaze shifts. the tall standing mirror reflects every filthy detail back at you. your flushed face, lips parted and swollen, eyes glossy and desperate. and behind you, leon, shoulders broad and muscles bulging, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping the base of his thick cock as he lines himself up.

he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until the stretch burns so good your mouth falls open on a silent cry. you watch in the mirror as your pussy stretches obscenely around him, lips parting wide to take every thick vein, every ridge. the slight upward curve of his cock drags perfectly against that spot deep inside, making your walls flutter and squeeze. you feel as if you're on cloud nine right now, finally feeling satisfied as his thick cock stretches your cunt deliciously. you could cry right now, the fullness of his cock buried inside you so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix.

“fuck, look at that, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice wrecked. his eyes are locked on the where your sexes connect in the mirror, watching himself disappear inside you. "so fuckin' tight. swallowing me like you were made for it." he bottoms out with a sharp snap of his hips, pelvis flush against your ass, balls heavy against your clit.

the sight his cock buried to the hilt inside your pussy makes you moan loud enough to echo off the walls. he doesn’t wait. he pulls back until only the flushed head remains inside, then slams forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that makes your whole body jolt. a creamy white ring coats his cock with every slow, rough drag inside your cunt as his hand grips the fat of your ass.

every thrust is on full display in the mirror. the way your back arches deeper, the way your tits bounce with every impact, the way your ass ripples when his hips slap against it. his cock glistens with your slick each time he drags it out before he drives back in.

leon’s hand slides around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit again. he rubs tight, fast circles in time with his thrusts, never letting up. he leans over your body to your ear to and whispers, “watch yourself,” he orders, tugging your hair harder so you can’t look away. “watch how pretty you look getting fucked like this, taking my cock like such a good fucking girl.” he purrs, making eye contact with you in the mirror before letting up to set an even quicker pace.

you're already so close, so fucking close to cumming, the teasing from earlier making you hypersensitive to every rough thrust of his cock in your wet pussy. you feel that familiar knot curling again in your stomach, and you swear you could cry from how good his cock feels dragging against your walls— the slight upward curve that presses against your g-spot, the thick veins that adorn it from the base to the shaft—

“leon, fuck, i’m gonna—” your voice cracks, breaking into a sob.

“yeah? you gonna cum already?” he groans, hips snapping harder as your walls tighten up around him, the headboard starting to knock against the wall. “cum on my cock, sweetheart. watch yourself get fucked stupid by your favorite neighbor.” the words are shameless as they leave his mouth, and you can’t help the way your pussy clenches involuntarily at his words. he groans, dragging his cock faster along your aching cunt as he watches you intently in the mirror.

his fingers press harder on your clit, rubbing perfect figure-eights into the swollen bud in a way that feels so delicious with his cock splitting you open. with a last firm circle on your clit, you find yourself coming apart in no time.

the orgasm rips through you like lightning, violent and blinding. your pussy clamps down around his cock like a vice, pulsing and gushing around him as you scream his name. in the mirror you watch yourself come undone, your eyes rolling back and mouth open in a broken cry, whole body shaking while he fucks you through it. leon's pace never slows as he drags your orgasm out until you’re sobbing and twitching.

“good fucking girl... shit, just like that,” he groans, voice raw. his hips keep snapping forward in that same brutal rhythm, cock slamming deep into your spasming pussy even as you’re still coming apart, walls clamping and fluttering wildly around him. the wet, filthy squelch of your arousal mixes with the relentless slap of skin on skin, louder now that the headboard is hammering the wall in time with every thrust.

“fuck, sweetheart,” leon growls, voice wrecked and dark. his fingers never leave your clit, in fact— they press harder, rubbing those perfect, merciless circles even faster, dragging the orgasm out until it twists into something sharper, almost painful. your scream melts into a broken sob as the pleasure flips straight into overstimulation, every nerve screaming while your pussy keeps pulsing and gushing around his thick cock.

“leon, please, no— too much—” you choke out, but the words dissolve into another helpless cry when he grinds deep and circles your clit just right. in the mirror you’re forced to watch it all as your eyes roll back, and tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

“too much?” he laughs low and cruel against your ear, never missing a stroke. “look at who’s ruining you right now, sweetheart. look at that pretty face getting fucking wrecked,” he groans, yanking your head up higher by the hair so you can’t hide from the reflection. his other hand snakes around your front, large hands finding purchase around your neck as he pulls your frame flush to his.

your thighs start shaking violently, legs threatening to give out, but leon just presses you closer to him, hand squeezing your neck possessively. he fucks into you harder, deeper, cock dragging relentlessly over that oversensitive spot inside you with every thrust. his other hand leaves your tangled hair to rub tight, firm circles into your clit, and you almost cry from the hot pleasure building in your stomach.

“gonna give me another one already, baby?” he taunts, voice rough with lust. your cunt flutters wildly around him at his seductive, almost condescending tone, moans getting higher-pitched as you feel your orgasm approaching. “that’s my girl. cum for me, sweetheart. know you want to," his pace never once falters, strong hand holding you up as he presses a small kiss behind your ear while encouraging you to cum on his cock.

the second orgasm hits you harder, sharper, almost too intense to bear. your whole body seizes, as you gush around him for the second time, fresh slick squirting out around his cock and dripping messily down your thighs onto the sheets. you scream his name until your voice cracks, eyes screwed shut in the mirror before they snap open again. back arched impossibly, mouth open in a broken sob, tears pouring freely while your body jerks and twitches uncontrollably in his grip.

but leon still doesn’t let up.

he fucks you straight through it, hips pistoning faster, the wet slap of skin turning obscene and constant. his fingers keep torturing your swollen, oversensitive clit— pinching, rubbing, and flicking it until the pleasure flips into pure fire, every stroke making you sob and thrash against him. you collapse forward onto your elbows, face buried in the bed, ass still high and presented for him as he follows you down, blanketing your body completely.

“leon… i can’t— please, i can’t take it—” you’re babbling, drooling into the bed, legs kicking weakly as a third orgasm builds right on the heels of the last one, vicious and unstoppable.

“uh-uh,” he rasps, lips brushing your ear, voice dark and filthy. “i waited months for this perfect little cunt,” he rasps, voice heavy with everything he’s held back for so long. "so you can give me one more, sweetheart." leon purrs, his nails digging into your hips as he continues his relentless abuse to your cunt.

he yanks your head back again so you have no choice but to see your tear-streaked, ruined face. you’re practically limp in his arms as hot streams run down your face from the sheer amount of pleasure. the way your pussy is stretched obscenely around his thick cock as it pounds into you without mercy, and the way your whole body trembles and jolts with every brutal thrust is enough for another pit in your stomach to build.

the orgasm that’s been building finally crests, and it feels almost painful, every contraction sending tiny shocks up your spine. it drags through you in long, shuddering waves, your walls clamping down around him in tight, fluttering pulses while fresh slick gushes out around his cock. you watch it all in the mirror, your eyes glossy and unfocused, mouth open in a hoarse, broken cry, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks as your thighs shake violently.

“fuck… that’s it,” leon groans against your ear, voice raw and satisfied, his hips stuttering as he chases his orgasm. “such a good fucking girl, taking me so well,” leon grunts out, voice rough and ragged as he chases his own release. your cunt flutters around his thick length, hands scrambling for purchase on the bed as hot tears run down your cheeks.

you’re still twitching, still trying to catch your breath, when the overstimulation really sets in— sharp and electric, too much all at once. your hips jerk away on instinct, a wrecked sob tearing from your throat as the pleasure flips into something almost painful.

"shhh, i've got you," he murmurs softly against your neck, his voice losing its rough edge as his own release builds. "just one more thing, baby…" leon's breathing is ragged, his hips stuttering as he nears his release.

with a final, deep thrust, leon buries himself to the hilt and stills. he groans deeply, hips bucking as you milk him for all he's got. you feel him pulse inside you, hot, thick ropes of his cum filling you completely as he groans your name against your shoulder blade. his body trembles slightly, muscles tensing and then relaxing as he empties himself into you. it's a satisfying release that seems to go on forever, each pulse of his cock accompanied by a low, guttural sound of pure satisfaction.

leon stays buried deep for a long moment afterward, both of you breathing heavily in the quiet room. the rain has softened outside, now just a gentle patter against the windows. his weight is comforting on your back, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as he presses soft kisses along your spine.

when he finally pulls out, you collapse completely onto the bed, boneless and satisfied. he shifts beside you, gathering you into his arms and snuggling you into his side. you rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as his fingers gently stroke your hair.

"you okay?" he asks after a few moments of comfortable silence, his voice soft, a stark contrast to his rough, lust-ridden voice from a few minutes ago.

"mhm... so good." you mumble into his firm chest, and he lets out a breathy laugh at your reply. he strokes your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he watches you catch your breath.

"yeah, baby?" he teases, settling into your arms as he thinks of what he wants to say. you're drifting off when he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. "i've wanted this for so long." although your eyes are heavy, you can't help the way your heart skips a beat at his words.

your eyes flutter open at his confession. "how long?" you ask curiously, mouth parted as you listen to the calm thrum of his heart against his chest.

"since the day you moved in," he admits, his thumb tracing circles on your shoulder. "that's why i kept coming up with excuses to see you. the porch light, the fence… none of it... really needed fixing." he says, and it's a little endearing to see leon so honest... it was cute. the sleepiness wore off a bit, your lips curving into a smile as you think about all the times he's offered his help to you in the name of "being a good neighbor."

"what about the leaky faucet?" you ask, propping yourself up on an elbow to look at him better. "that one was actually dripping." you inquire, wriggling your eyebrows at him playfully.

leon grins wolfishly. "okay, that one was real. but i may have exaggerated how bad it was so i could come back a few times." he admits, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes into the small of your back.

you shake your head, unable to stop smiling. "you're ridiculous." you huff out, mirroring his mannerisms by tracing hearts into his firm chest with your fingers, eyes focused on your movements.

"i tried to be subtle, sweetheart," he admits. "but i was losing my goddamn mind trying to tell you. tonight, when i saw you stuck in the rain... i knew i couldn't pretend anymore." your fingers still on his chest, biting back a smile as you take in his words. you had to admit, it felt nice to finally hear him be honest about how he felt, the flirting a precursor to his true feelings.

"i'm glad you didn't," you say, leaning up a bit to press a soft kiss to his lips. he responds immediately, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. when you pull away, he's smiling.

"so," he says, a boyish smile gracing his features, "what happens now?" he asks, genuine curiosity behind his playful eyes.

"well," you say thoughtfully, "you could start by not pretending things are broken just to talk to me." you giggle, staring at him in amusement as a wider smile breaks out on his features.

leon laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "deal." he says, trapping you tightly into his arms. you giggle, smacking at his biceps for him to release you. once he does, you look at him with a smirk plastered on your face.

"hey, leon?" you ask, staring into his eyes with a hint of mischief.

"yeah, sweetheart?" he asks, brows raised as he stares at you trying not to laugh.

"i think my kitchen sink might be making a weird noise." you say, biting your lips to stop the laugh that eventually does escape, burying your face in his bare chest.

he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. "i'll be over first thing in the morning to check it out."

© cametoile ♡ + ↻

the rain hammered down like it had a personal grudge against the city, turning the streets into slick mirrors that reflected the neon haze. leon stood there on the doorstep at midnight, water streaming off his jacket, plastering his shirt to the broad slabs of muscle he'd built up over years of missions that never let up. his hair clung to his forehead, and he could feel the chill seeping into his bones, but it was nothing compared to the ache that had driven him here.

'routine check-in,' leon muttered when the door opened, his voice rough from the storm and the lie he couldn't shake. you didn't call him on it—didn't need to. your eyes said you knew exactly what this was, or at least what it wasn't. leon just... stood there, his massive frame filling the doorway like some drenched stray, waiting for you to decide if you'd let him in.

you stepped aside without a word, and relief hit Leon harder than any bullet ever had. he toed off his boots in the entryway, leaving puddles on the mat, and followed you inside. the warmth of the place wrapped around him, chasing away the wet cold, but it did nothing for the tension coiling in his gut. you both ended up on the couch, you curling up on one end with a blanket draped over your lap, leon sinking into the cushions opposite, still dripping a bit despite his efforts. he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to find words that wouldn't come.

'rough night out there,' leon said finally, glancing at you sidelong. it was true, but not the whole truth. work had him locked down all day—dominant, in control, barking orders to keep the chaos at bay. but here, with you, he felt like that old wet dog again, tail between his legs, hoping for a scrap of kindness.

you shifted closer, your hand brushing his arm, and something in leon cracked. 'leon,' you said softly, no judgment, just that quiet understanding that always undid him. he turned to you, his blue eyes locking onto yours, and before he could overthink it, leon leaned in.

the kiss started slow, tentative, his lips pressing against yours with a gentleness he rarely allowed himself. you tasted like chamomile tea, cinnamon and home, something he'd been chasing for too damn long. his hand cupped the back of your neck, thumb stroking the soft skin there as he deepened it just a fraction, savouring the way you sighed into his mouth, all soft and dreamy. it wasn't rushed, wasn't the frantic release he craved after a mission—this was deliberate, like he was memorising every second.

you weren't his girlfriend. hell, you didn't have labels for whatever this was, but you were the closest thing leon had had to real connection in years; someone who saw through the agent bullshit without making him spell it out. that made this feel even more vital, like if he let go now, he'd lose the one steady thing in his life. leon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling. 'i shouldn't keep showing up like this,' he murmured, voice low and gravelly, but his body betrayed him, shifting closer until he was half over you.

your hand on his chest didn't push him away; it just rested there, feeling the steady thump of his rotten heart. that was all the invitation leon needed. he kissed you again, slower this time, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you parted for him. a soft hum escaped you, and it shot straight to his cock, already thickening in his damp pants.

leon climbed between your legs carefully, mindful of his size—his massive shoulders bracketing your thighs, muscles flexing as he settled over you without crushing. the couch dipped under his weight, but you opened up for him, legs parting to let him nestle against your heat.

his hands roamed gently, one sliding up your side to cup your breast through your shirt, thumb circling the hardening nipple. the other braced beside your head, holding him up as he trailed kisses down your jaw, your neck, nipping lightly at the pulse point that fluttered under his lips.

'you feel so good,' leon whispered against your skin, the words rough with need. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your lacy underwear in one smooth motion. you lifted your hips to help, and there you were—bare, glistening, your cunt already slick and inviting.

leon groaned low in his throat, settling lower, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs wider. the scent of you hit him, sweet and arousing, making his mouth water. he kissed the inside of your thigh first, soft and reverent, working his way inward with open-mouthed presses that left wet trails on your skin. you shivered, fingers threading into his still-damp hair, and leon looked up at you, eyes dark with hunger.

'let me take care of you,' he said, voice a rumble. it wasn't a command—not here, not with you. more like a plea from the man who spent his days being unbreakable.

his tongue flicked out, tracing your folds slowly, tasting the salt and sweetness of your arousal. you gasped, hips bucking slightly, and leon pressed a hand to your abdomen to steady you, holding you open. he lapped at your cunt deliberately, flat strokes from entrance to clit, savouring every twitch and moan you gave him. circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, he sucked gently, feeling it swell under the attention. 'fuck, you taste incredible,' leon murmured against you, the vibration making you whine. his free hand gripped your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles as he delved deeper, tongue thrusting inside you, curling to hit that sensitive, gooey spot.

you were the closest thing to peace leon had known in forever, and right now, with your thighs trembling around his head and your breaths coming in soft pants, he poured everything into making you feel it. he alternated between broad licks and focused sucks on your clit, building the pressure slow and steady, drawing out every reaction. when your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, leon groaned in approval, doubling down until your body arched, cunt clenching around nothing as you teetered on the edge.

'leon... please,' you breathed, and that was it—the sound of his name like that undid him. he sucked harder, tongue flicking relentlessly, until you shattered, flooding his mouth with your release. leon didn't stop, lapping it all up, prolonging the waves until you tugged him up, spent and glowing. he crawled back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. his cock strained against his pants, aching, but this wasn't about him—not yet. it was about you, about this fragile space you'd carved out.

'stay,' you whispered, and leon nodded, collapsing beside you, pulling you into his chest like the lifeline you were.

the rain kept pounding against the windows like it was trying to drown out the world outside, but inside, everything felt hushed, intimate. leon held you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. his cock still throbbed in his pants, hard and insistent from the taste of you lingering on his tongue, but he didn't push. not yet. instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin—warm, faintly floral, grounding him in a way nothing else could. 'god, i needed this,' leon murmured against you, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. 'you have no idea what it's like out there, pretending i'm unbreakable all day.'

he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you, his blue eyes searching your face in the dim light. water from his hair dripped onto the cushion, but he ignored it, too focused on the way your lips were still swollen from his kisses. 'at work, i'm the one calling the shots, keeping everyone alive, but here... fuck, here i just want to let go. with you.' leon's hand slid up your side, cupping your breast again, thumb brushing over the nipple until it pebbled under his touch. he leaned down, capturing it in his mouth through the thin fabric of your shirt, sucking gently while his other hand worked at his belt.

the buckle clinked open, and leon pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your skin. 'tell me you want this too. i don't want to assume—' but you nodded, your hand covering his, urging him on. that was enough. leon shoved his pants down, freeing his cock—thick, veined, the head already leaking pre-cum. he stroked himself once, twice, groaning at the relief, before positioning himself between your legs again. 'you're so wet still,' he said, voice husky as he rubbed the tip along your slit, coating himself in your arousal. 'makes me want to slide right in, feel you clench around me.'

he pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. his massive frame loomed over you, muscles taut as he held back, letting you adjust to his size. 'that's it, take me,' leon whispered, hips rocking gently once he was fully sheathed. the stretch was intense, your cunt gripping him like a vice, and he had to pause, forehead pressed to yours. 'feels like heaven. tight and warm.' he started moving then, shallow thrusts that built into a steady rhythm, his cock dragging against your walls with each pass.

leon's mouth found yours again, kissing you deep and messy, tongues tangling as he fucked you slower than he wanted, savoring the connection. 'i think about this all the time,' he confessed between kisses, his voice breaking on a groan when you clenched around him. 'after missions, when i'm alone in some shitty hotel, it's your face i see. your body under mine like this.' his hand gripped your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist to angle deeper, hitting that spot inside you that made you gasp his name, all high and needy.

'fuck, right there baby?' leon panted, picking up the pace, his hips snapping forward harder now. the couch creaked under the force, but he didn't care—nothing mattered but the slick sounds of your bodies joining, the way your nails dug into his shoulders. sweat beaded on his skin, mixing with the remnants of rain, and he chased the building pressure in his gut. 'come with me,' he urged, thumb finding your clit, circling it firmly. 'let me feel you milk my cock.' his words were rough, needy, a far cry from the controlled agent he played at work.