If you asked Chris Redfield what his favorite position was, he probably would tell you some sappy shit about how he likes any position where he can see your pretty face. He’d tell you he just loves making love to you, and you’d roll your eyes at his goofy grin.
The truth is, he’s tied between two. On one hand, he’s not lying when he says he likes to see your face. But he loves the positions that give him total control over your pleasure. If he thought about it, it probably has something to do with his job. Everything and everyone is out of his control at all times, but you, soft and supple and oh-so-fucking sweet, are on your back, pinned beneath him, taking every thrust he gives you. He loves watching you take what he gives you, unable to do anything but moan and gush around his thick member.
He likes you on your back, legs pressed as far back as he can get them, in a downright mean mating press. His hands are tangled in yours, trapped against the backs of your knees to keep you absolutely helpless. Chris can see your tits bounce with every heavy thrust, he can see your lids low, eyes blown with lust and pleasure and desire, and it's all for him. You get wet in this position, evidenced by the obscene noises coming from where the two of you are joined. He likes to shuffle closer on his knees, getting just that much deeper and forcing those delicate, high-pitched noises from your pretty lips. It makes his chest swell, watching you stutter out gibberish, attempting to tell him how good he feels. He likes knowing he can fuck you into mindless pleasure; it fills him with masculine pride.
When the need gets too much, when he feels his balls tighten as pleasure threatens to overtake his whole body, he reaches a thumb past those pretty lips. On instinct, your mouth closes around his digit, suckling softly. He can feel the vibrations of your moans on his thumb, inadvertently sending a rumble of approval through his chest. He rips the finger out of your mouth to press on your aching clit, ready to force you over the edge with him. In these moments, Chris doesn’t care if he’s overwhelming you. He doesn’t care if you think you can’t take it; you will. In fact, he hopes he is. He hopes the only thought passing through that pretty head is how good his big dick feels deep inside of you. The pretty look of helplessness on your face as you give in to him just makes him thrust harder.
It's only when he feels your tell-tale clench, when he sees the shaking of your thighs and hears that soft whimper on your sigh that he lets go, lets himself cum with you. His hands fall to either side of your head, and he leans forward, letting his body cage you in from the outside world. He won't tell you (for a while at least) that every time he fills you up like this, he’s thinking about knocking you up, keeping you his for good.
On the other hand, he likes to be pressed fully against you. His other favorite position is prone, fully on top of you, with his arms wrapped protectively around your shoulders. He can hear every fucking noise you make like this, feel every twitch and sigh and shudder. He likes the way your nails dig into his biceps like this, as you need him impossibly closer somehow. He can press his mouth right against your neck and bite as much as he wants. He can whisper filthy things in your ear, tell you just how good your hot, wet cunt feels wrapped around him. It's this position where he starts muttering things that make you blush, as if he wasnt buried deep in your body.
“This fuckin’ pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”
“This is what you needed, huh? Needed to get fucked like a good girl?”
“You like this? Being stuffed full of this dick?
Your orgasms always come out of nowhere when he talks like this, taking you by surprise as you gush around his hard length. When he cums, he’ll let a little more of his weight crush down on you. Still afraid of actually hurting you, most of his body weight is balanced on his knees and elbows. But after months and months of you begging to lay his whole weight on you, he gives in a bit and crushes you when he cums. It makes you feel safe, trapped beneath his hard chest, wrapped in his strong arms. He presses a long kiss to the side of your forehead, resting his there as you both catch your breath.
No matter what position you end up in, it always ends the same. Chris on his back, his arms around you, with your head on his chest. That's probably his true favorite position, listening to your slow, steady breathing as you fall asleep.
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TW: Gore, Death (NOT of main character/ you), Cunnilingus, P in V, Smut, Blood, Porn w/ lots of plot
Word Count ~ 4.7
You wake up to a sensation in your lower stomach. Thinking, at first, it’s because you need to pee, you get up but when you do move your hips, they are pinned to the bed. Once your mind fully catches up to your body, the sensation is replaced with pleasure—and you have a clear hunch on who it is before you look down.
But before you can move anything else, all you can do is moan, grabbing onto the nearest thing–which is difficult as you fist the black silk sheets under you.
You wonder where your pillows are until you remember what transpired last night–the house filled with moans and heavy breaths as he had you folded in every position in almost every location on nearly every surface in your shared home only to end up in the most basic position of them all: missionary. But missionary was so intimate and on a more personal level. After all those intimate and downright sinful degrading words were spoken to you, you’re glad your husband always—or has, starting three weeks ago–makes sure you end off the night full of reassurance of both his love for you and your lovely plump body he so craves. His arms caged you in, his forehead pressed against yours to keep your eyes on his–it's not like you wanted to look anywhere but him– as he pistoned in and out of your swollen pussy.
With such a delicious sight in front of you, however, it's not like you wanted to look away either. It was moments like these when you could see his lovesick expression amongst other things like the sweat trickling down his arm. How his eyes ping ponged between where you and him connected and everywhere else, licking his lips seeing you jiggle like jello–the same state your legs were in.
Soon, sight becomes an overwhelming sense, so you shut your eyes in response, your arms fully wrapping the best they could around his back and your ankles doing the same, locking together as you pull him further into your embrace–something he relishes in every single time, another recurrence since three weeks ago.
You are pulled out of your thoughts when he sucks harshly again, hearing a buzz until you feel the cold sensation of a familiar vibrating dildo insert into your already abused hole, the rhythm slow until it catches up to his sucking.
Afterawhile, the question as to where your pillows are pop up in your mind once more up until you buck your hips against the mouth and toy on you. Coming to the realization that you feel your hips are elevated, you remember when he put a pillow under your hips to “help with the breeding” —his words not yours.
You peer down the best you can, getting a good look at your assailant as you pull the covers off of you to reveal none other than your husband, still nude as he humps the sheets in the same rhythym as he fucks the dildo in and out of you to help you reach your peak while simultaneously getting rid of his morning wood the best you can.
“Good morning, my love.” your husband smiles goofily, sight locked onto your pretty flower as if one look somewhere else would mean missing even a millisecond of your orgasm so close to bay or another one of your pretty little fucked out expression.
“I just needed you a bit more before you left for work so I thought,” he pauses to turn up the vibrator, “why not… early breakfast in bed?” You can see hearts in his eyes through your teary vision—but like most times you chalk it up to the lighting despite the room cast in pure darkness with the exception of rising dawn spilling through the curtains.
You giggle, but it morphs into a horse gasp, breathing harshly as you can feel your peak close. He stops talking, going straight back to sucking your clit in tune with the toy thrusting into you. Now it's your silly himbo of a husband's turn to focus–something else that he has started since three weeks ago—where he doesnt let up on the vibrator, his face stone cold as he watched you slowly reach your peak. He is quick to move your hands out of the way as you try to get it to stop but he only grabs it, locking your fingers together with his before pinning it to your thigh to keep them open before going back to eating his meal—you.
Your toes curl in ecstasy when your clit is harshly sucked, your little mewls only serving as proof-although little–to your husband that you are somewhat satisfied.
You inhale and exhale harshly, coming down slowly from your high when the toy inside of you is turned up to the max, your husband leaning down to whisper in your ear as you spasm, too overstimulated to neither speak nor talk.
“Was that one real? Or fake like the others?” He says coldly. You suck a breath in harshly through your teeth, scared out of your mind, scared that your husband has once again finally turned back to his old ways. You tense up, too scared--and too stimulated to move. He keeps your hand locked with his as his gaze is pointed, his eyes having that soulless look to them—however, you remember them being more black then blue.
As he waits for an answer, his smile turned into a frown, he speeds up the pace of the dildo, watching you. You can't seem to hold it as your hand shoots up to cover your face but he pins it to the bed quickly. You close your eyes but they shoot open, surprised when he kisses you, his pace speeding up to an inhumane speed. Then, you cum harshly, spazzing as it trickles out of you. His eyes never leave yours, his face mere centimeters away from yours as he removed his hand quickly to rub your clit fast until you squirt once again on the sheet and his arm.
You laugh on the bed, coming back from your high as you twitch. He tosses the dildo somewhere, his expression turning cold to sweet in an instance as he gets up to clean you, taking you aback once again with how well he seems to do it.
He returns, with a towel loosely around his hips and a washcloth. The cold water feels good as he wipes your legs down, leaving your pussy last.
He laps up as much as he can for himself before wiping you down with a rag, the cool sensation against your overheated cunt feels soothing as you feel yourself drift back into sleep.
You feel him lift the towel and sheets from under you, leaving once more but returning quickly, as if he had never left in the first place. He slotted his chiseled muscular body behind yours, wrapping his arms tight around your midsection, only letting up just a smidge when he felt you shift as you turned around to face his chiseled pecs and abs. Your hand against his chest traveled down, wanting to return the favor---wondering why he wasn't so pissy---but he quickly grabbed your hand and guiding it back to lay on his chest. He fanned his hand on top of yours, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.
He pecks your cheek.
“You don't need to do that,” His voice barely above whisper, trying to preserve what little time you guys have left before it's time for y'all to fully get up.
“I’ve told you this before.”
“And I’ve told you numerous times before,” you say interrupting him, “I. Don't. Mind.”
Past you would have never gone out of your way to return the favor. He usually would expect you to after a halfassed attempt at eating you out.
I pleased you so why can’t you return the favor and be a good wife?
Just remembering those words make you shudder. However, he continues to surprise you.
“And I said, no thank you. I don’t need anything in return for doing something I enjoy.” He kisses your knuckles before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist one more, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder and murmuring ‘I love you’ in between kisses.
“Stop before you get riled up again.”
“Just being in your presence is enough to get anyone riled up, honey.”
And like a whore desperate for another man’s attention you seem to love when I mention another man, huh? You cheating on me, slut–
You're brought back from your thoughts once again when he kisses you on the lips. It turns passionate to rough quickly, your tongues fighting for dominance. When you pull away, a string of saliva still connects your lips.
Your husband is ready to dive back in, eyes hooded and quick but you push him away cheekily.
“Ron–”
“Namuh.”
“Huh?” you question.
“Namuh. I don’t want you to call me Ron or whatever it was before. Can you do that, my love?”
Ron Mest! Ron Mest the third and I’ll proudly die knowing you shall never bare the heirs to the Mest line, you fat—
“Honey?” You are brought back again. “Yes, dear?” You forgot his question.
“I’m fine if you don’t want me to change my name?” You can visibly see him sulk a bit.
“W-what? Wait, no, honey–I mean—you can change your name—I just—you always were such a snob–”
“A snob?” He interrupts. Your mind begins to rattle, you think the worst, thinking he really hasn’t changed, this is just a ruse, but he laughs.
“Honey, you really think so horrible about me.”
“No. I think horribly about Ron, not Namuh.” You smile cheekily, watching the gears turn in his mind until a huge smile breaks out onto his face. He squeezes you in a huge, suffocating—in a good way— hug.
You laugh, punching him jokingly to let go. As soon as he does, you give him a kiss, before getting up.
He’s sad at first. He hates when you go,deciding to stay in bed more. He lounges in the bed, watching you move as he rubs sleep out of his eyes, cuddling a pillow, but oh how he loves to watch you leave from his angled view, looking like a giant goddess.
The silk sheets fall off you like water, revealing your hips and breasts with his little marks–he smiles a bit when he sees them. You trip a bit, legs a bit wobbly but he is at your side in lightening speed–something else you have never witnessed until three weeks ago.
Your routine is normal: brushing your teeth, maybe taking a quick shower, doing your makeup, all while a huge koala hangs off of you at your beck and call. When he hears the shower, he begrudgingly walks to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.
When you're done, you come out dressed. You sit down and eat, having enough time to do that before taking the keys, giving him one more kiss goodbye.
While in the car, you find yourself drifting into thought. It hadn’t surprised you when he said he wanted to change his name—what startled you was how long it took for him to finally admit it.
After all, who would want to keep the name of the man they murdered? You doubt he thinks you’re oblivious, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize the truth: the person sitting beside you, wearing your husband’s face and speaking in his voice, isn’t the one you married.
??? POV (Flashback)
I wanted to kill her at first. That was my plan all along, getting two meals for the price of one when I found out the man I had just killed was married. The lack of ring on his supposed ring finger was a tell-tale sign he didn't love his wife—the added fact the woman he had just met and paid in the hotel was just further proof.
However, it didn't matter whom I ate—the girl, the unfaithful husband, or his wife—as long as I got my nutrients to keep my body from turning back. I wanted—no, needed—- more so I set out to go kill her, copying his form based on whatever I could see—as that was a limit to being whatever you may classify me as—before heading to their address.
The walk was slow as I prepared for what was to come next along with what I should do. Should I continue this act as her husband? Open the door with the stolen keys, shouting “I’m home!” before seeking her out, ready to embrace her with a big smile before I devour her whole as she screams? Should I break the door down and just consume her? Possibilities shot through my head the closer I got to the address until I was in front of the door.
I opened the door, only to reveal the most beautiful creature I have ever seen—which is saying a lot. She was not only the prettiest human I has seen but the prettiest creature—person, whatever she was—in the entire galaxy. I assumed she couldn’t be human but a goddess, having no other explanation to how someone like her is a mere human. Her natural smell is covered by the artificiality of cherry blossoms.
She broke me out of my trance.
“What’s wrong, honey?” She said looking up at me with those beautiful with those eyes of hers.
“N-nothing,” I manage to stammer out. “Just… starving my love.” I give a fake chuckle at the end.
I quickly go over where the steaming pot on the oven sits. She doesn’t stop me. I dip my finger into the boiling hot food and lick it off.
“How is it?” She says, her expression cold.
“Good, a bit spicy though.”
She only stares dumbfounded at me after a few minutes go by. However, as soon as her expression is confused it quickly changes back to neutral, giving me a smile.
“Spicy, indeed.” She mutters.
I go to sit down, eating but all she does is put the food up and clean dishes.
“You’re not eating?”
“You want me to?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” I was dumbfounded once again.
Once we got done eating, I wash the dishes as she goes up to take a shower. It’s quick by using my powers freely with no one watching.
Being as curious as can be, I walk to where I think the shower is, going in the same direction as she did. I knock on the door before entering.
Knock! Knock!
No answer.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
I jiggle the handle, expecting it to be locked but it’s not. With a click, I open up the door, immediately hit with her natural scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Then, my ears pick up on something.
Moaning.
It’s hard to see in the fogged up room with the fogged up glass shower but I can see her silhouette.
She moans, her back against the glass as I can see her beautiful ass cheeks and thighs. Seeing the handshower disconnected from the holder, I can conclude she must be using the showerhead as a makeshift vibrator, judging from the hose going from the hose connection to where her crotch is.
I shed the clothes off of me, disappearing off of me for a little bit before reappearing on the floor so as to not make her suspicious as to where my clothes went.
I slowly open the glass door, watching her a bit more until I decide to take matters into my own hands. When I grab the hose, she gasps, her grip as firm as mine on it. She looks…scared which makes me all the more sad and angry assuming the worse of what her horrible husband was like, what she is probably thinking how fucked she is.
“Let me… help you.” I put the hose back on the holder, caging her in my arms.
“Would you..want me to?” She’s slow to answer, obviously too overwhelmed to answer.
However, as I am about to leave the shower, knowing I am probably making her very confused, she grabs me by the wrist.
“Don't go.” She makes cautious steps forward until she is pressed against me. Her lips are inches away from mine whispering“Please” with hooded eyes.
Her arms wrap around my neck when she pulls me in, lips locked into mine.
I never understood nor liked the act of kissing. It seemed odd when watching humans do it and participating in it on the rare occasions I would get kissed in a desperate attempt to sway me from eating whoever was on the menu. However, her lips on mine felt akin to bliss, heaven on earth. I think I could grow very fond of this kissing–and even more intimate acts.
Careful not to put my full body weight on her, I picked her up, wrapped her legs around my hips, and pressed her back against the glass door. My hands find purchase anywhere I can grab, but I am quite fond of her plumper parts–her boobs, hips, thighs–like I’m hypnotized.
“Put it in,” she says between kisses. I oblige happily, hoping my cock is able to “pass” as a human one although it very much doesn't look like one.
When I thrust the first few inches inside of her, she gasps.
“What’s wrong?” I’m scared shitless thinking she must know now.
“Y-you’re…a lot bigger than before.”
I chuckle, but don’t pay it any mind, thrusting the last of the inches inside of her. The pudge on her stomach folds over and all I want to do is grab it like a piece of dough–maybe give it a nibble. She keels, holding onto me even harder, biting my shoulder as her head rests in the crook of my neck. The water has long gone cold as I feel it trickle down one of my shoulders and cascade between whatever space is between our bodies—less than centimeters.
“Move,” She whispers. I piston in and out of her at a steady pace as she holds onto me, leaving just the tip in before thrusting back into her harshly. Her nails rake down my back, leaving marks that would otherwise quickly vanish if I didn’t slow down regeneration by a lot. The quick sting from the air and water hitting the wound felt…nice. I couldn’t pinprick what felt better–being inside of her, her moans, or the marks she left behind. I just knew it felt different–a good type of different.
Her hands slap my cheeks, pulling my face down to lock lips with her again–something else I could get used to. She bites my bottom lip as her pussy squeezes my cock simultaneously. She tilts her head, a smirk on her glossy eyed expression.
“You’re not with me.”
“I-I don’t–nghh— understand.”
“Your mind is somewhere else, daydreaming.” Her smirk falls and her eyes look at the wall. Small bubbles of liquid I’m too familiar with bubbles at the corner of her eyes.
“I was just thinking about all the different positions I’m going to fold you into.”
She blushes, a choked gasp falling out of her mouth when my thrusts speed up at inhuman speed.
“S-slow down. I-I’m gonna—” She cums on my cock, a ring of cum forming around my cock, too full for the majority of it to leak out. Her legs jiggle and shake as my hand reaches down to touch that spot she focused so much on when pleasing herself. Small drops of that eye liquid slid down her cheeks as she pleaded for me to stop but I couldn't–I didn't want to.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as her back arches off the glass, further pressing her breasts into me. Her arms lock around my neck, bringing me flush against her as liquid comes out in streams, soaking my hand and chest as it pools under us. It continues until her grip on my neck becomes loose.
I hold up the best I can–which is barely an effort only needing to use less than half my actual power–as I feel her go limp, my cock still very hard inside her.
“S-sorry.” She whispers out, her face with now dried streams of water on it.
I’m used to them by now, thinking about it while giving her a nice shower, making sure to get all the cum and stuff off her. I reluctantly remove my cock out of her, thinking I’ll deal with it later.
People screaming, pleading for mercy that shall not come. Hoping for me to spare them in a last ditch effort as they helplessly writhe on the floor before a quick wave of my fake hand turns to a claw, to slit their throat or impale them, making sure their death is quick–or painless depending on who they were--as their blood flows into my mouth. I hate messes, but I’m learning to love hers.
After drying her off, I put her in some underwear and a shirt I found after looking through the drawers. I lay her on the bed while I grab some underwear that the dead man must’ve worn before slotting next to her, wrapping my arms around her body.
“That man was foolish to love another,” I lick a long stripe up her cheek, tasting her sweet sweat off of her which tastes just how she smells—bliss and heaven.
“But don’t worry,” I stroke her cheek with my hand as gently as possible. “Another man’s trash…is someone else’s treasure.” My mind remembers what she said before she passed out.
Sorry.
Why should she apologize for divulging in pleasure, something common, as simple as being a part of human nature? I try to keep my claws from coming out in order to not hurt her, feeling the rage bubble and overflow the harder I think about how torrid he must have been to her.
“Don’t worry, my darling,” I brush a few strands out of her face so I can get a better look at her. “I’ll make sure you never experience that again. Never again.”
End of Flashback
(??? POV)
We sat happily at the table as a lot of different food lay on the table. I wanted to prepare this big feast for her, to show her just how much she meant to me. She was quick to shrug off her blazer and take a quick shower to change into something more comfortable. She marvels at everything I have made–a baked chicken, a side of mashed potatoes, three cheese sliced potatoes, screamed spinach, a few mocktails, nice apple pie, homemade ice cream, and banana pudding.
The silence was deafening but for me it felt nice, like she was saying a silent thank you even after kissing me more times then I can count and remember, jumping with joy and thanking me profusely.
With forks and silverware clinking on the plates, she broke the silence first.
“You know, Namu…this is exquisite, much better than Ron could ever do.”
She looks up from her plate, smiling as the lightbulb in my head is slowly turned on.
“Y-you knew?” I’ve never felt fear in my life. Never when facing off opponents akin to literal gods nor when massacring nearly millions of alien species with more technology, powers, and intelligence to rival even the smartest human. But, sitting in front of this human woman, for the very first time I felt my heart skip a beat.
She only shrugs, going back to eating like we are having a normal conversation.
“Since you walked in,” she begins.
“I was impressed. You managed to get the tiniest details. His small freckles on his cheeks, the dimple on his right side, even the way his eyebrows are in a permanent scowl, always furrowed.”
She stops playing with her food, pointing the fork at me, looking me straight in my eyes.
“But you missed such an obvious detail,” her eyes furrow. “The eyes. His soulless black fucking eyes that only a psychopath would have. You must be questioning just how dumb I can be for you to think I would miss that when all my life I have spent pleading with them to look at me with something besides hatred.”
I’m rooted to my seat, too scared to look away from her. Her chair scrapes harshly against the wood floors as she gets up and slowly saunters towards me.
“Whether or not you or someone else killed him, his fate was sealed. He was destined to die that night either by my hands or someone else’s.”
“H-how?” I have a question. She grabs the knife that we used to cut the turkey, turning it over numerous times in her hand like it was a toy.
“Pepper. He’s deathly allergic to it, not even a bunch of it, barely a sprinkle. So–- my suspicions already high—whne you don’t drop dead, something tugs at my heart. My husband is dead, that is a fact, when you show up wearing his skin I assume. But knowing I couldn’t get that sweet bliss of killing him, seeing him convulse on the floor and writhe. Those few seconds of suffering would never amount to years of his abuse,” she looks mournfully at the knife before sitting on my lap, the knife at my throat.
“But it would amount to something–just a little bit.” She presses the tip of it harder. “You took that from me.”
She looks at my eyes as if searching for something before she puts the knife down and out of reach for the both of us.
“But I’m grateful. These three weeks have felt like heaven compared to the six years with him ever could. I wouldn’t change anything for the world.” She grabs at my hair, pulling my head back as she licks a stripe up my neck.
“And the sex is just…wonderful. That first night was ” She giggles before letting go.
“You could kill me right now and I would die—”
“I won’t. Never.” It’s my turn to look at her now, cradling her face in my hands.
“If my hands were to ever bring harm to you, even a scratch, I would never forgive myself.”
“Ron said the same thing.” Her eyes furrow once again. “What makes you think I should trust you just because you decided not to kill me for these past three weeks?”
I have nothing to say. For the first time in my life, I have no words, no rebuttals, nothing. So I speak truthfully, no lies, no barriers, just the truth.
“I-I can’t lie to you. I planned to kill you but…that was before I saw you. I did plan to tell you eventually–truely I did. But when you would look at me, wake up with that bright smile of yours, kiss me before you left for work, or even say ‘maybe another round’ after a long night I didn’t want to ruin this moment. I didn’t want to lose this-this-this life I have sought out since the beginning. I didn’t want to lose you, lose whatever we could have had, the start of whatever happened no matter what. No more running, no more hunting for my next meal, just a simple life with you.”
I don’t notice how hard my hands are gripping hers.
“Wow,” her legs now straddling my lap. “I like this side of you.” She reaches up and touches something on my head. I think it’s my hair but somehow the real me, the alien side, has slowly come out.
I try to resist the urge to purr while she touches the small horns on my head before running the tips of her fingers along the long bones that are hidden beneath a soft layer of jello-like skin, only revealed when in use. They protrude and run along my side from the very top of my head to the tip of my tail—I hope my tail wasn’t out, probably wagging like a tornado.
She hums as I bury my face in her boobs, embarrassed a little bit.
“Oh, how cute.” She leans into my ear to whisper closer. “How about we move this to the bedroom?”
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ hi everyone!! I’ve been hyper fixated on re9 Leon these past couple of weeks so i decided to write something shorter but just as sweet as my longer oneshots !! this is smutty… yet again, happy birthday Leon !!
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ contains: explicit content, oral sex, afab reader, the reader is chubby, assistant reader, younger reader, age gap (Leon is 49 and reader is 28 ish), mentions of injuries, established relationship, argument, make up sex, Leon is a munch, and probably some other stuff but i can’t remember (╥﹏╥)
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ disclaimer: english isn't my first language so i apologise in advance if there are any spelling mistakes..
₊˚⊹ ᰔ Summary: After pushing away the only person who still worries whether he comes home alive, Leon Kennedy spends a week regretting words he can't take back. Sometimes an apology entails something more than just words.
.✦ ݁˖ word count: 2.315k words (excluding symbols)
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ enjoy !! •ᴗ•
The institutional lighting of the DSO hummed a low, bleak tune, molding shadows across the shelves in Leon's office. The room felt suffocating.
You cling onto the medical file before throwing it onto the desk, the heavy paper hitting the wood of his desk with a sharp smack.
“You skipped your imperative post-op clearance again, Leon,” You said, your voice tight with a week’s worth of built-up anxiety. “Three cracked ribs and a stress fracture in your wrist, and you just signed yourself right back onto active duty. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Leon didn't even look up from the mission file on his desk, letting out a slow exhale through his nose. His older, rugged face looked entirely detached, the deep lines around his dusk coloured eyes hardened by the years of looking at the worst the world had to offer.
“I’m fine,” He stated, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that barely carried across the tense room. “Ribs heal. The job doesn’t wait.”
“The job isn't going to have an agent left if you keep treating your body like it's expendable!” You stepped closer, your soft frame trembling with a combination of anger and genuine fear for him. You wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, to make him understand that his life actually mattered to someone.
“You’re not thirty anymore, Leon. You can’t just keep taking these ridiculous tasks and throwing yourself into the meat grinder without a second thought. You need to start caring for yourself. I care about you.”
An odd mist of vulnerability shrouded your quiet, final words.
Leon’s hand stopped moving. The pen pausing against the seemingly never ending forms. Slowly, he lifted his head, his dirty blonde bangs falling over his eyes, blurring a gaze that had suddenly gone cold and defensive. He was exhausted, and the weight of his own mortality was a pressure he didn't like being reminded of.
He stood up, his tall, broad frame instantly imposing over you, casting a heavy shadow across your face.
“I’ve been dealing with this shit since Raccoon City,” Leon grumbled, his tone sharp, cutting through the air like a combat knife. “I didn't ask for you to care, and I certainly don't need some assistant constantly trying to manage my life. Mind your own business.”
The words hit you like a tidal wave. You bit the inside of your cheek, attempting to prevent the slight tremble in your lip. Breath hitching in your throat as the sheer dismissal of his tone sank in.
Silent realisation had inundated Leon’s expression. His hand slowly reaching toward you, but before a single apologetic sound could leave his lips, the static filled electronic chirp of his radio shattered the silence.
“Agent Kennedy. Active quarantine breach reported at the primary facility. you’re needed on site immediately.”
Leon’s jaw tightened. Averting his regretful gaze and reaching down. He grabbed his heavy tactical belt from the chair, clasping it around his lower torso with mechanical efficiency. He turned his back toward you and strode out into the dark hallway without a lingering backward glance, the heavy office door clicking shut behind him.
The resonating void of his presence had left a week long, haunting silence in the room.
A rigid seven days had passed in an agitating blur. Seven days of fixating on blank post mission files, organising useless documents and listening to the rain palpitate relentlessly against the building's windows.
It was nearly midnight when you heard the leaden handle of your small office door finally click.
You didn't look up immediately, forcing your eyes to stay focused on the paperwork in front of you, but the familiar, heavy tread of combat boots instantly gave him away.
Leon stepped into the warm, muted glow of your desk lamp. He looked completely spent. His hefty jacket was gone, leaving him in a tight, navy compression shirt that clung to the rugged contours of his chest. His hair was damp from the downpour outside, sticking to his forehead in messy patterns. But what made your heart swell with a dull ache was the fresh, livid purple bruise blossoming across his jaw.
You stare into the files on your desk like they’re a personal threat, your voice shifting into a flat, professional monotone. “Welcome back, Agent Kennedy. Your post mission reports are on the left.”
Leon stopped, the permanent furrow in his brows deepening, the formal title cutting deeper than any blade. He let out a low, rough sigh. “Agent Kennedy? Right. Guess I earned that one.”
He stood there by the door for a moment, just studying you. When you stubbornly refused to acknowledge him properly, he let out a deep exhale through his nose and leaned himself against the edge of a filing cabinet. You kept your head down, expertly shifting a stack of papers, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a response.
Leon diverted closer to your ignorant presence, his boots thudding softly against the carpet until he stopped just a few feet from your desk. He looked down at his own bruised, bandaged knuckles, the facade draining out of him all at once.
“I shouldn't have said that shit to you last week. I was tired, but that's no excuse. You're one of the only people left who actually gives a shit if I make it back alive. I'm sorry.”
Tentatively, you let the documents drop from your hands and onto your desk. You finally stood up from your chair, softly stepping out into the open space between the desk and his remorseful figure.
The anger you had shouldered for seven days dissipated into a thin fog, leaving only an actively dispersing ache. Your eyes welled with tears as you looked up at him, looking profoundly hurt by the dismissal of his parting words and the blistering week of wondering if he would even come back alive. You looked so vulnerable, your soft curves completely yielding under the strain of the silence.
Seeing that shattered look on your face broke whatever wall Leon had orchestrated. In one swift, desperate stride, Leon concluded the distance between you. His large, calloused hands came up to frame your face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. The contrast of his rough, combat tested palms against your soft skin made your breath hitch faintly.
“Hey, i’m okay” He murmured, his voice dropping all its buffers, turning dense and desperate. “Don’t ruin those pretty eyes over me. I’m right here” Leon whispered, pulling your soft frame an inch closer to his chest.
The tension that had simmered for a long, torturous week dissolved completely.
Leon didn't just lean down, he seemed to collapse into you, his broad shoulders dropping all their stiff tactical weight as he captured your lips in a resonant, bruising kiss. It was the desperate act of a man who had been starving for seven days, heavy with ardent deprivation.
You whimpered against his mouth, a soft, feeble sound that was irrevocably swallowed by the domineering hunger of his lips. Your hands flew up to grip his biceps, your fingers digging into the solid, adamant muscle beneath his compression shirt. You pressed closer, your soft frame yielding against him seamlessly, your plush stomach flattening against his rigid torso. He groaned into the kiss, his hands shifting down your back to grip your thick hips, pulling you so tightly against him that you could feel the hardening ridge of his desire through his trousers.
Without breaking the kiss, Leon softly guided you backward until the backs of your thighs hit the sturdy oak of your office desk. With a solitary, sweeping motion of his arm, he wantonly knocked the stack of folders onto the floor. The papers scattered across the carpet with a loud rustle.
There goes your weeks worth of agonising work…
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Leon muttered against your lips, his voice entwined with a sudden, sharp urgency before he kissed you again.
He lifted you by your hips, hoisting your soft weight onto the edge of the desk. Stepping between your thighs, his broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the dimly lit room. His movements slowed down altogether, the initial frantic rush relenting into a dense, deliberate focus.
His large, calloused hands slid methodically under the hem of your pencil skirt. His rough palms scraped deliciously over your thick, smooth thighs, his thumb tracing slow, warm circles into your soft skin. He leaned down, embedding his face gently into the crook of your neck, taking a long, ragged breath to inhale the alluringly sweet scent of you that he had been starving for all week.
“You’re beautiful.” His teeth gently nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, making you arch your back and leave out a hushed whisper of his name. “I don't think I breathed a single clear breath all week until now.” Leon muttered softly, his blue eyes hazy with pure affection as his palms shaped your full hips.
Leon broke away from your neck, his breathing still uneven, but his movements became incredibly careful. His dusk clouded eyes searched yours with an intense, quiet vulnerability.
“Sweetheart,” His words rolled out like thick velvet, vibrating right against your chest. “Let me make it up to you.”
Your breath hitched at the raw desperation in his eyes. Fraying your fingers gently into his dirty blonde strands, you allow yourself to nod softly. “Leon. Please.”
He slid his hands to your full hips, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh with a gentle squeeze. Leisurely, Leon sank down to his knees on the carpeted office floor, settling himself directly between your trembling, parted legs.
Reaching up, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties. He didn't tear them away, just carefully slid them down your thick thighs with a quiet reverence, tossing them onto a patch of carpet nearby. Under the faint, warm light of the desk lamp, your inner thighs quivered mildly. Leon studied the soft curve of your hips, your rounded stomach, and the aching heat of your warmth waiting for him.
“Leon...” You whimpered quietly, his name echoing in the quiet atmosphere of your office.
Leon pressed a feathery kiss against the inside of your thigh, his hands smoothing over the trembling muscle.
“Shh, I've got you,” He murmured, his gravelly voice dropping even lower, vibrating against your skin. “Just relax for me, sweetheart.”
His large hands gripped the undersides of your plush thighs, lifting your legs and draping them gently over his broad shoulders. The position exposing you completely to him.
As your breathing finally began to smoothen out, the cloying, defensive tension that had held your body stiff for a week dissipated into your entanglement. Your hips sunk into the oak of your desk, your trembling legs mellowing where they were adorned over his strong shoulders as you let go of a long, shaky exhale.
Leon felt the soft, pliant change in your posture instantly. A low, deeply satisfied hum vibrated in his chest.
“There you go,” Leon murmured into the suppleness of your inner thigh, his plangent voice dripping with heavy devotion. He gave your plush hips a gentle, claiming squeeze, his thumb tracing a comforting circle into your skin. “Good girl. Just like that for me.”
Leon inched closer, his warm breath faltering as he felt the radiant heat emanating from you. When his tongue made contact, a deep, slick swipe right against your aching center, your faintly quivering hips bucked off the desk. A soft, shameless mewl echoed through the dim space.
“Leon..oh fuck-” A simmering plea leaves your blossoming lips.
A verbal answer had decided to remain in Leon’s throat, instead he buried his face entirely between your soft thighs. His tongue working in long, resolute, achingly languid strokes, using his lips and tongue to swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves until you were dewy and painting his mouth with your juices.
Over the deliciously lingering friction of his tongue against your skin, his hands remained tethered on your hips, his fingers gently squeezing your soft flesh, holding you steady as your body began to writhe beneath his unyielding touch. Amid the deep, wet sounds of his tongue devouring you, Leon began to mumble into your warmth, his voice vibrating against your splintering pleasure.
“Mmm... I’m sorry,” He mumbled, his hot breath humming against your wet flesh. “So sorry, sweetheart... hated myself the second I walked out that door.” He took a deep, voracious lap, tasting the sweet nectar of your climax as it began to build. “Missed you... fuck, I missed you so much. Missed this. Every single day.”
The desperation in his muffled confessions, combined with the relentless, expert friction of his tongue had quiet moans of his name leaving your lips. He didn't pause, his rhythm growing deeper and more ravenous as he felt the tight, delirious fluttering of your muscles foreshadowing your release.
Your fingers tightened desperately in his damp hair, pulling him impossibly closer, pressing his face even further into your heat. Letting your head tilt back, the ceiling bleared out of focus as a vehement, trembling orgasm ripped through your body.
You clamped your thighs constrictively around his head, eliciting a desperate grunt from Leon’s throat. Your soft flesh trembling as an influx of pleasure collided over you.
Leon clung onto you, holding your hips firm, consuming every drop of your saccharine release, his tongue continuing to trace soothing, gentle strokes against your warmth until your panting breaths finally began to slow.
Slowly, he pulled away from your core, looking up at you with wet lips and a dark, completely satisfied smirk splitting his bruised face.
“Now,” Leon whispered, his voice dripping with absolute devotion as he stood up and began to unbuckle his belt, “Let's see if I can remember how the rest of this protocol goes.”
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ hi everyone!! I’ve been hyper fixated on re9 Leon these past couple of weeks so i decided to write something shorter but just as sweet as my longer oneshots !! this is smutty… yet again, happy birthday Leon !!
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ contains: explicit content, oral sex, afab reader, the reader is chubby, assistant reader, younger reader, age gap (Leon is 49 and reader is 28 ish), mentions of injuries, established relationship, argument, make up sex, Leon is a munch, and probably some other stuff but i can’t remember (╥﹏╥)
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ disclaimer: english isn't my first language so i apologise in advance if there are any spelling mistakes..
₊˚⊹ ᰔ Summary: After pushing away the only person who still worries whether he comes home alive, Leon Kennedy spends a week regretting words he can't take back. Sometimes an apology entails something more than just words.
.✦ ݁˖ word count: 2.315k words (excluding symbols)
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ➜ enjoy !! •ᴗ•
The institutional lighting of the DSO hummed a low, bleak tune, molding shadows across the shelves in Leon's office. The room felt suffocating.
You cling onto the medical file before throwing it onto the desk, the heavy paper hitting the wood of his desk with a sharp smack.
“You skipped your imperative post-op clearance again, Leon,” You said, your voice tight with a week’s worth of built-up anxiety. “Three cracked ribs and a stress fracture in your wrist, and you just signed yourself right back onto active duty. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Leon didn't even look up from the mission file on his desk, letting out a slow exhale through his nose. His older, rugged face looked entirely detached, the deep lines around his dusk coloured eyes hardened by the years of looking at the worst the world had to offer.
“I’m fine,” He stated, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that barely carried across the tense room. “Ribs heal. The job doesn’t wait.”
“The job isn't going to have an agent left if you keep treating your body like it's expendable!” You stepped closer, your soft frame trembling with a combination of anger and genuine fear for him. You wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, to make him understand that his life actually mattered to someone.
“You’re not thirty anymore, Leon. You can’t just keep taking these ridiculous tasks and throwing yourself into the meat grinder without a second thought. You need to start caring for yourself. I care about you.”
An odd mist of vulnerability shrouded your quiet, final words.
Leon’s hand stopped moving. The pen pausing against the seemingly never ending forms. Slowly, he lifted his head, his dirty blonde bangs falling over his eyes, blurring a gaze that had suddenly gone cold and defensive. He was exhausted, and the weight of his own mortality was a pressure he didn't like being reminded of.
He stood up, his tall, broad frame instantly imposing over you, casting a heavy shadow across your face.
“I’ve been dealing with this shit since Raccoon City,” Leon grumbled, his tone sharp, cutting through the air like a combat knife. “I didn't ask for you to care, and I certainly don't need some assistant constantly trying to manage my life. Mind your own business.”
The words hit you like a tidal wave. You bit the inside of your cheek, attempting to prevent the slight tremble in your lip. Breath hitching in your throat as the sheer dismissal of his tone sank in.
Silent realisation had inundated Leon’s expression. His hand slowly reaching toward you, but before a single apologetic sound could leave his lips, the static filled electronic chirp of his radio shattered the silence.
“Agent Kennedy. Active quarantine breach reported at the primary facility. you’re needed on site immediately.”
Leon’s jaw tightened. Averting his regretful gaze and reaching down. He grabbed his heavy tactical belt from the chair, clasping it around his lower torso with mechanical efficiency. He turned his back toward you and strode out into the dark hallway without a lingering backward glance, the heavy office door clicking shut behind him.
The resonating void of his presence had left a week long, haunting silence in the room.
A rigid seven days had passed in an agitating blur. Seven days of fixating on blank post mission files, organising useless documents and listening to the rain palpitate relentlessly against the building's windows.
It was nearly midnight when you heard the leaden handle of your small office door finally click.
You didn't look up immediately, forcing your eyes to stay focused on the paperwork in front of you, but the familiar, heavy tread of combat boots instantly gave him away.
Leon stepped into the warm, muted glow of your desk lamp. He looked completely spent. His hefty jacket was gone, leaving him in a tight, navy compression shirt that clung to the rugged contours of his chest. His hair was damp from the downpour outside, sticking to his forehead in messy patterns. But what made your heart swell with a dull ache was the fresh, livid purple bruise blossoming across his jaw.
You stare into the files on your desk like they’re a personal threat, your voice shifting into a flat, professional monotone. “Welcome back, Agent Kennedy. Your post mission reports are on the left.”
Leon stopped, the permanent furrow in his brows deepening, the formal title cutting deeper than any blade. He let out a low, rough sigh. “Agent Kennedy? Right. Guess I earned that one.”
He stood there by the door for a moment, just studying you. When you stubbornly refused to acknowledge him properly, he let out a deep exhale through his nose and leaned himself against the edge of a filing cabinet. You kept your head down, expertly shifting a stack of papers, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a response.
Leon diverted closer to your ignorant presence, his boots thudding softly against the carpet until he stopped just a few feet from your desk. He looked down at his own bruised, bandaged knuckles, the facade draining out of him all at once.
“I shouldn't have said that shit to you last week. I was tired, but that's no excuse. You're one of the only people left who actually gives a shit if I make it back alive. I'm sorry.”
Tentatively, you let the documents drop from your hands and onto your desk. You finally stood up from your chair, softly stepping out into the open space between the desk and his remorseful figure.
The anger you had shouldered for seven days dissipated into a thin fog, leaving only an actively dispersing ache. Your eyes welled with tears as you looked up at him, looking profoundly hurt by the dismissal of his parting words and the blistering week of wondering if he would even come back alive. You looked so vulnerable, your soft curves completely yielding under the strain of the silence.
Seeing that shattered look on your face broke whatever wall Leon had orchestrated. In one swift, desperate stride, Leon concluded the distance between you. His large, calloused hands came up to frame your face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. The contrast of his rough, combat tested palms against your soft skin made your breath hitch faintly.
“Hey, i’m okay” He murmured, his voice dropping all its buffers, turning dense and desperate. “Don’t ruin those pretty eyes over me. I’m right here” Leon whispered, pulling your soft frame an inch closer to his chest.
The tension that had simmered for a long, torturous week dissolved completely.
Leon didn't just lean down, he seemed to collapse into you, his broad shoulders dropping all their stiff tactical weight as he captured your lips in a resonant, bruising kiss. It was the desperate act of a man who had been starving for seven days, heavy with ardent deprivation.
You whimpered against his mouth, a soft, feeble sound that was irrevocably swallowed by the domineering hunger of his lips. Your hands flew up to grip his biceps, your fingers digging into the solid, adamant muscle beneath his compression shirt. You pressed closer, your soft frame yielding against him seamlessly, your plush stomach flattening against his rigid torso. He groaned into the kiss, his hands shifting down your back to grip your thick hips, pulling you so tightly against him that you could feel the hardening ridge of his desire through his trousers.
Without breaking the kiss, Leon softly guided you backward until the backs of your thighs hit the sturdy oak of your office desk. With a solitary, sweeping motion of his arm, he wantonly knocked the stack of folders onto the floor. The papers scattered across the carpet with a loud rustle.
There goes your weeks worth of agonising work…
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Leon muttered against your lips, his voice entwined with a sudden, sharp urgency before he kissed you again.
He lifted you by your hips, hoisting your soft weight onto the edge of the desk. Stepping between your thighs, his broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the dimly lit room. His movements slowed down altogether, the initial frantic rush relenting into a dense, deliberate focus.
His large, calloused hands slid methodically under the hem of your pencil skirt. His rough palms scraped deliciously over your thick, smooth thighs, his thumb tracing slow, warm circles into your soft skin. He leaned down, embedding his face gently into the crook of your neck, taking a long, ragged breath to inhale the alluringly sweet scent of you that he had been starving for all week.
“You’re beautiful.” His teeth gently nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, making you arch your back and leave out a hushed whisper of his name. “I don't think I breathed a single clear breath all week until now.” Leon muttered softly, his blue eyes hazy with pure affection as his palms shaped your full hips.
Leon broke away from your neck, his breathing still uneven, but his movements became incredibly careful. His dusk clouded eyes searched yours with an intense, quiet vulnerability.
“Sweetheart,” His words rolled out like thick velvet, vibrating right against your chest. “Let me make it up to you.”
Your breath hitched at the raw desperation in his eyes. Fraying your fingers gently into his dirty blonde strands, you allow yourself to nod softly. “Leon. Please.”
He slid his hands to your full hips, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh with a gentle squeeze. Leisurely, Leon sank down to his knees on the carpeted office floor, settling himself directly between your trembling, parted legs.
Reaching up, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties. He didn't tear them away, just carefully slid them down your thick thighs with a quiet reverence, tossing them onto a patch of carpet nearby. Under the faint, warm light of the desk lamp, your inner thighs quivered mildly. Leon studied the soft curve of your hips, your rounded stomach, and the aching heat of your warmth waiting for him.
“Leon...” You whimpered quietly, his name echoing in the quiet atmosphere of your office.
Leon pressed a feathery kiss against the inside of your thigh, his hands smoothing over the trembling muscle.
“Shh, I've got you,” He murmured, his gravelly voice dropping even lower, vibrating against your skin. “Just relax for me, sweetheart.”
His large hands gripped the undersides of your plush thighs, lifting your legs and draping them gently over his broad shoulders. The position exposing you completely to him.
As your breathing finally began to smoothen out, the cloying, defensive tension that had held your body stiff for a week dissipated into your entanglement. Your hips sunk into the oak of your desk, your trembling legs mellowing where they were adorned over his strong shoulders as you let go of a long, shaky exhale.
Leon felt the soft, pliant change in your posture instantly. A low, deeply satisfied hum vibrated in his chest.
“There you go,” Leon murmured into the suppleness of your inner thigh, his plangent voice dripping with heavy devotion. He gave your plush hips a gentle, claiming squeeze, his thumb tracing a comforting circle into your skin. “Good girl. Just like that for me.”
Leon inched closer, his warm breath faltering as he felt the radiant heat emanating from you. When his tongue made contact, a deep, slick swipe right against your aching center, your faintly quivering hips bucked off the desk. A soft, shameless mewl echoed through the dim space.
“Leon..oh fuck-” A simmering plea leaves your blossoming lips.
A verbal answer had decided to remain in Leon’s throat, instead he buried his face entirely between your soft thighs. His tongue working in long, resolute, achingly languid strokes, using his lips and tongue to swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves until you were dewy and painting his mouth with your juices.
Over the deliciously lingering friction of his tongue against your skin, his hands remained tethered on your hips, his fingers gently squeezing your soft flesh, holding you steady as your body began to writhe beneath his unyielding touch. Amid the deep, wet sounds of his tongue devouring you, Leon began to mumble into your warmth, his voice vibrating against your splintering pleasure.
“Mmm... I’m sorry,” He mumbled, his hot breath humming against your wet flesh. “So sorry, sweetheart... hated myself the second I walked out that door.” He took a deep, voracious lap, tasting the sweet nectar of your climax as it began to build. “Missed you... fuck, I missed you so much. Missed this. Every single day.”
The desperation in his muffled confessions, combined with the relentless, expert friction of his tongue had quiet moans of his name leaving your lips. He didn't pause, his rhythm growing deeper and more ravenous as he felt the tight, delirious fluttering of your muscles foreshadowing your release.
Your fingers tightened desperately in his damp hair, pulling him impossibly closer, pressing his face even further into your heat. Letting your head tilt back, the ceiling bleared out of focus as a vehement, trembling orgasm ripped through your body.
You clamped your thighs constrictively around his head, eliciting a desperate grunt from Leon’s throat. Your soft flesh trembling as an influx of pleasure collided over you.
Leon clung onto you, holding your hips firm, consuming every drop of your saccharine release, his tongue continuing to trace soothing, gentle strokes against your warmth until your panting breaths finally began to slow.
Slowly, he pulled away from your core, looking up at you with wet lips and a dark, completely satisfied smirk splitting his bruised face.
“Now,” Leon whispered, his voice dripping with absolute devotion as he stood up and began to unbuckle his belt, “Let's see if I can remember how the rest of this protocol goes.”
Your request had been one with (mostly) joking intentions. The adult content you posted was decent, but you needed something to wow the people that paid good money to see you undressed through a screen.
When you asked Reiner if he would have sex with you for different content, you expected him to say no and then, despite being close friends for years, block you.
However, he happily said yes to your ask with a little too much enthusiasm for someone who swore was just a friend.
The camera was long forgotten, running up your storage as the video grew longer and longer. But you didn't care about that - you were too focused on taking Reiner as deep as you could.
"Ngh- Rei, harder please!" You moaned out, fingernails digging into the skin of his back. Reiner grunted, giving a hard thrust forward, even though he was as deep into your pussy as he could get.
Reiner was huge, much bigger than you were expecting. It took your all to not look shocked in front of the camera.
"Fuck, baby..." Reiner muttered into your ear, losing himself in the feeling of your cunt swallowing him up. "I'm gonna cum if you keep squeezing my cock like that."
You murmur something unintelligible into Reiner's ear, closing your eyes in pure bliss as his thrusts sped up, fat tip hitting your g-spot with every rigid motion.
"God, Reiner! I'm gonna cum!" Clenching hard around his thick length, your orgasm crashes over you, your cum frothing at the base of his cock.
Reiner's hips stutter forwards and he's filling you up seconds later, painting your walls white with his cum.
You hiss as he pulls out, leaving you empty. Glancing over to the camera, he smirks before returning his gaze to you.
"Let's keep that video for ourselves and make one more to post, okay?"
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TW: Gore, Death (NOT of main character/ you), Cunnilingus, P in V, Smut, Blood, Porn w/ lots of plot
Word Count ~ 4.7
You wake up to a sensation in your lower stomach. Thinking, at first, it’s because you need to pee, you get up but when you do move your hips, they are pinned to the bed. Once your mind fully catches up to your body, the sensation is replaced with pleasure—and you have a clear hunch on who it is before you look down.
But before you can move anything else, all you can do is moan, grabbing onto the nearest thing–which is difficult as you fist the black silk sheets under you.
You wonder where your pillows are until you remember what transpired last night–the house filled with moans and heavy breaths as he had you folded in every position in almost every location on nearly every surface in your shared home only to end up in the most basic position of them all: missionary. But missionary was so intimate and on a more personal level. After all those intimate and downright sinful degrading words were spoken to you, you’re glad your husband always—or has, starting three weeks ago–makes sure you end off the night full of reassurance of both his love for you and your lovely plump body he so craves. His arms caged you in, his forehead pressed against yours to keep your eyes on his–it's not like you wanted to look anywhere but him– as he pistoned in and out of your swollen pussy.
With such a delicious sight in front of you, however, it's not like you wanted to look away either. It was moments like these when you could see his lovesick expression amongst other things like the sweat trickling down his arm. How his eyes ping ponged between where you and him connected and everywhere else, licking his lips seeing you jiggle like jello–the same state your legs were in.
Soon, sight becomes an overwhelming sense, so you shut your eyes in response, your arms fully wrapping the best they could around his back and your ankles doing the same, locking together as you pull him further into your embrace–something he relishes in every single time, another recurrence since three weeks ago.
You are pulled out of your thoughts when he sucks harshly again, hearing a buzz until you feel the cold sensation of a familiar vibrating dildo insert into your already abused hole, the rhythm slow until it catches up to his sucking.
Afterawhile, the question as to where your pillows are pop up in your mind once more up until you buck your hips against the mouth and toy on you. Coming to the realization that you feel your hips are elevated, you remember when he put a pillow under your hips to “help with the breeding” —his words not yours.
You peer down the best you can, getting a good look at your assailant as you pull the covers off of you to reveal none other than your husband, still nude as he humps the sheets in the same rhythym as he fucks the dildo in and out of you to help you reach your peak while simultaneously getting rid of his morning wood the best you can.
“Good morning, my love.” your husband smiles goofily, sight locked onto your pretty flower as if one look somewhere else would mean missing even a millisecond of your orgasm so close to bay or another one of your pretty little fucked out expression.
“I just needed you a bit more before you left for work so I thought,” he pauses to turn up the vibrator, “why not… early breakfast in bed?” You can see hearts in his eyes through your teary vision—but like most times you chalk it up to the lighting despite the room cast in pure darkness with the exception of rising dawn spilling through the curtains.
You giggle, but it morphs into a horse gasp, breathing harshly as you can feel your peak close. He stops talking, going straight back to sucking your clit in tune with the toy thrusting into you. Now it's your silly himbo of a husband's turn to focus–something else that he has started since three weeks ago—where he doesnt let up on the vibrator, his face stone cold as he watched you slowly reach your peak. He is quick to move your hands out of the way as you try to get it to stop but he only grabs it, locking your fingers together with his before pinning it to your thigh to keep them open before going back to eating his meal—you.
Your toes curl in ecstasy when your clit is harshly sucked, your little mewls only serving as proof-although little–to your husband that you are somewhat satisfied.
You inhale and exhale harshly, coming down slowly from your high when the toy inside of you is turned up to the max, your husband leaning down to whisper in your ear as you spasm, too overstimulated to neither speak nor talk.
“Was that one real? Or fake like the others?” He says coldly. You suck a breath in harshly through your teeth, scared out of your mind, scared that your husband has once again finally turned back to his old ways. You tense up, too scared--and too stimulated to move. He keeps your hand locked with his as his gaze is pointed, his eyes having that soulless look to them—however, you remember them being more black then blue.
As he waits for an answer, his smile turned into a frown, he speeds up the pace of the dildo, watching you. You can't seem to hold it as your hand shoots up to cover your face but he pins it to the bed quickly. You close your eyes but they shoot open, surprised when he kisses you, his pace speeding up to an inhumane speed. Then, you cum harshly, spazzing as it trickles out of you. His eyes never leave yours, his face mere centimeters away from yours as he removed his hand quickly to rub your clit fast until you squirt once again on the sheet and his arm.
You laugh on the bed, coming back from your high as you twitch. He tosses the dildo somewhere, his expression turning cold to sweet in an instance as he gets up to clean you, taking you aback once again with how well he seems to do it.
He returns, with a towel loosely around his hips and a washcloth. The cold water feels good as he wipes your legs down, leaving your pussy last.
He laps up as much as he can for himself before wiping you down with a rag, the cool sensation against your overheated cunt feels soothing as you feel yourself drift back into sleep.
You feel him lift the towel and sheets from under you, leaving once more but returning quickly, as if he had never left in the first place. He slotted his chiseled muscular body behind yours, wrapping his arms tight around your midsection, only letting up just a smidge when he felt you shift as you turned around to face his chiseled pecs and abs. Your hand against his chest traveled down, wanting to return the favor---wondering why he wasn't so pissy---but he quickly grabbed your hand and guiding it back to lay on his chest. He fanned his hand on top of yours, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.
He pecks your cheek.
“You don't need to do that,” His voice barely above whisper, trying to preserve what little time you guys have left before it's time for y'all to fully get up.
“I’ve told you this before.”
“And I’ve told you numerous times before,” you say interrupting him, “I. Don't. Mind.”
Past you would have never gone out of your way to return the favor. He usually would expect you to after a halfassed attempt at eating you out.
I pleased you so why can’t you return the favor and be a good wife?
Just remembering those words make you shudder. However, he continues to surprise you.
“And I said, no thank you. I don’t need anything in return for doing something I enjoy.” He kisses your knuckles before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist one more, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder and murmuring ‘I love you’ in between kisses.
“Stop before you get riled up again.”
“Just being in your presence is enough to get anyone riled up, honey.”
And like a whore desperate for another man’s attention you seem to love when I mention another man, huh? You cheating on me, slut–
You're brought back from your thoughts once again when he kisses you on the lips. It turns passionate to rough quickly, your tongues fighting for dominance. When you pull away, a string of saliva still connects your lips.
Your husband is ready to dive back in, eyes hooded and quick but you push him away cheekily.
“Ron–”
“Namuh.”
“Huh?” you question.
“Namuh. I don’t want you to call me Ron or whatever it was before. Can you do that, my love?”
Ron Mest! Ron Mest the third and I’ll proudly die knowing you shall never bare the heirs to the Mest line, you fat—
“Honey?” You are brought back again. “Yes, dear?” You forgot his question.
“I’m fine if you don’t want me to change my name?” You can visibly see him sulk a bit.
“W-what? Wait, no, honey–I mean—you can change your name—I just—you always were such a snob–”
“A snob?” He interrupts. Your mind begins to rattle, you think the worst, thinking he really hasn’t changed, this is just a ruse, but he laughs.
“Honey, you really think so horrible about me.”
“No. I think horribly about Ron, not Namuh.” You smile cheekily, watching the gears turn in his mind until a huge smile breaks out onto his face. He squeezes you in a huge, suffocating—in a good way— hug.
You laugh, punching him jokingly to let go. As soon as he does, you give him a kiss, before getting up.
He’s sad at first. He hates when you go,deciding to stay in bed more. He lounges in the bed, watching you move as he rubs sleep out of his eyes, cuddling a pillow, but oh how he loves to watch you leave from his angled view, looking like a giant goddess.
The silk sheets fall off you like water, revealing your hips and breasts with his little marks–he smiles a bit when he sees them. You trip a bit, legs a bit wobbly but he is at your side in lightening speed–something else you have never witnessed until three weeks ago.
Your routine is normal: brushing your teeth, maybe taking a quick shower, doing your makeup, all while a huge koala hangs off of you at your beck and call. When he hears the shower, he begrudgingly walks to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.
When you're done, you come out dressed. You sit down and eat, having enough time to do that before taking the keys, giving him one more kiss goodbye.
While in the car, you find yourself drifting into thought. It hadn’t surprised you when he said he wanted to change his name—what startled you was how long it took for him to finally admit it.
After all, who would want to keep the name of the man they murdered? You doubt he thinks you’re oblivious, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize the truth: the person sitting beside you, wearing your husband’s face and speaking in his voice, isn’t the one you married.
??? POV (Flashback)
I wanted to kill her at first. That was my plan all along, getting two meals for the price of one when I found out the man I had just killed was married. The lack of ring on his supposed ring finger was a tell-tale sign he didn't love his wife—the added fact the woman he had just met and paid in the hotel was just further proof.
However, it didn't matter whom I ate—the girl, the unfaithful husband, or his wife—as long as I got my nutrients to keep my body from turning back. I wanted—no, needed—- more so I set out to go kill her, copying his form based on whatever I could see—as that was a limit to being whatever you may classify me as—before heading to their address.
The walk was slow as I prepared for what was to come next along with what I should do. Should I continue this act as her husband? Open the door with the stolen keys, shouting “I’m home!” before seeking her out, ready to embrace her with a big smile before I devour her whole as she screams? Should I break the door down and just consume her? Possibilities shot through my head the closer I got to the address until I was in front of the door.
I opened the door, only to reveal the most beautiful creature I have ever seen—which is saying a lot. She was not only the prettiest human I has seen but the prettiest creature—person, whatever she was—in the entire galaxy. I assumed she couldn’t be human but a goddess, having no other explanation to how someone like her is a mere human. Her natural smell is covered by the artificiality of cherry blossoms.
She broke me out of my trance.
“What’s wrong, honey?” She said looking up at me with those beautiful with those eyes of hers.
“N-nothing,” I manage to stammer out. “Just… starving my love.” I give a fake chuckle at the end.
I quickly go over where the steaming pot on the oven sits. She doesn’t stop me. I dip my finger into the boiling hot food and lick it off.
“How is it?” She says, her expression cold.
“Good, a bit spicy though.”
She only stares dumbfounded at me after a few minutes go by. However, as soon as her expression is confused it quickly changes back to neutral, giving me a smile.
“Spicy, indeed.” She mutters.
I go to sit down, eating but all she does is put the food up and clean dishes.
“You’re not eating?”
“You want me to?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” I was dumbfounded once again.
Once we got done eating, I wash the dishes as she goes up to take a shower. It’s quick by using my powers freely with no one watching.
Being as curious as can be, I walk to where I think the shower is, going in the same direction as she did. I knock on the door before entering.
Knock! Knock!
No answer.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
I jiggle the handle, expecting it to be locked but it’s not. With a click, I open up the door, immediately hit with her natural scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Then, my ears pick up on something.
Moaning.
It’s hard to see in the fogged up room with the fogged up glass shower but I can see her silhouette.
She moans, her back against the glass as I can see her beautiful ass cheeks and thighs. Seeing the handshower disconnected from the holder, I can conclude she must be using the showerhead as a makeshift vibrator, judging from the hose going from the hose connection to where her crotch is.
I shed the clothes off of me, disappearing off of me for a little bit before reappearing on the floor so as to not make her suspicious as to where my clothes went.
I slowly open the glass door, watching her a bit more until I decide to take matters into my own hands. When I grab the hose, she gasps, her grip as firm as mine on it. She looks…scared which makes me all the more sad and angry assuming the worse of what her horrible husband was like, what she is probably thinking how fucked she is.
“Let me… help you.” I put the hose back on the holder, caging her in my arms.
“Would you..want me to?” She’s slow to answer, obviously too overwhelmed to answer.
However, as I am about to leave the shower, knowing I am probably making her very confused, she grabs me by the wrist.
“Don't go.” She makes cautious steps forward until she is pressed against me. Her lips are inches away from mine whispering“Please” with hooded eyes.
Her arms wrap around my neck when she pulls me in, lips locked into mine.
I never understood nor liked the act of kissing. It seemed odd when watching humans do it and participating in it on the rare occasions I would get kissed in a desperate attempt to sway me from eating whoever was on the menu. However, her lips on mine felt akin to bliss, heaven on earth. I think I could grow very fond of this kissing–and even more intimate acts.
Careful not to put my full body weight on her, I picked her up, wrapped her legs around my hips, and pressed her back against the glass door. My hands find purchase anywhere I can grab, but I am quite fond of her plumper parts–her boobs, hips, thighs–like I’m hypnotized.
“Put it in,” she says between kisses. I oblige happily, hoping my cock is able to “pass” as a human one although it very much doesn't look like one.
When I thrust the first few inches inside of her, she gasps.
“What’s wrong?” I’m scared shitless thinking she must know now.
“Y-you’re…a lot bigger than before.”
I chuckle, but don’t pay it any mind, thrusting the last of the inches inside of her. The pudge on her stomach folds over and all I want to do is grab it like a piece of dough–maybe give it a nibble. She keels, holding onto me even harder, biting my shoulder as her head rests in the crook of my neck. The water has long gone cold as I feel it trickle down one of my shoulders and cascade between whatever space is between our bodies—less than centimeters.
“Move,” She whispers. I piston in and out of her at a steady pace as she holds onto me, leaving just the tip in before thrusting back into her harshly. Her nails rake down my back, leaving marks that would otherwise quickly vanish if I didn’t slow down regeneration by a lot. The quick sting from the air and water hitting the wound felt…nice. I couldn’t pinprick what felt better–being inside of her, her moans, or the marks she left behind. I just knew it felt different–a good type of different.
Her hands slap my cheeks, pulling my face down to lock lips with her again–something else I could get used to. She bites my bottom lip as her pussy squeezes my cock simultaneously. She tilts her head, a smirk on her glossy eyed expression.
“You’re not with me.”
“I-I don’t–nghh— understand.”
“Your mind is somewhere else, daydreaming.” Her smirk falls and her eyes look at the wall. Small bubbles of liquid I’m too familiar with bubbles at the corner of her eyes.
“I was just thinking about all the different positions I’m going to fold you into.”
She blushes, a choked gasp falling out of her mouth when my thrusts speed up at inhuman speed.
“S-slow down. I-I’m gonna—” She cums on my cock, a ring of cum forming around my cock, too full for the majority of it to leak out. Her legs jiggle and shake as my hand reaches down to touch that spot she focused so much on when pleasing herself. Small drops of that eye liquid slid down her cheeks as she pleaded for me to stop but I couldn't–I didn't want to.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as her back arches off the glass, further pressing her breasts into me. Her arms lock around my neck, bringing me flush against her as liquid comes out in streams, soaking my hand and chest as it pools under us. It continues until her grip on my neck becomes loose.
I hold up the best I can–which is barely an effort only needing to use less than half my actual power–as I feel her go limp, my cock still very hard inside her.
“S-sorry.” She whispers out, her face with now dried streams of water on it.
I’m used to them by now, thinking about it while giving her a nice shower, making sure to get all the cum and stuff off her. I reluctantly remove my cock out of her, thinking I’ll deal with it later.
People screaming, pleading for mercy that shall not come. Hoping for me to spare them in a last ditch effort as they helplessly writhe on the floor before a quick wave of my fake hand turns to a claw, to slit their throat or impale them, making sure their death is quick–or painless depending on who they were--as their blood flows into my mouth. I hate messes, but I’m learning to love hers.
After drying her off, I put her in some underwear and a shirt I found after looking through the drawers. I lay her on the bed while I grab some underwear that the dead man must’ve worn before slotting next to her, wrapping my arms around her body.
“That man was foolish to love another,” I lick a long stripe up her cheek, tasting her sweet sweat off of her which tastes just how she smells—bliss and heaven.
“But don’t worry,” I stroke her cheek with my hand as gently as possible. “Another man’s trash…is someone else’s treasure.” My mind remembers what she said before she passed out.
Sorry.
Why should she apologize for divulging in pleasure, something common, as simple as being a part of human nature? I try to keep my claws from coming out in order to not hurt her, feeling the rage bubble and overflow the harder I think about how torrid he must have been to her.
“Don’t worry, my darling,” I brush a few strands out of her face so I can get a better look at her. “I’ll make sure you never experience that again. Never again.”
End of Flashback
(??? POV)
We sat happily at the table as a lot of different food lay on the table. I wanted to prepare this big feast for her, to show her just how much she meant to me. She was quick to shrug off her blazer and take a quick shower to change into something more comfortable. She marvels at everything I have made–a baked chicken, a side of mashed potatoes, three cheese sliced potatoes, screamed spinach, a few mocktails, nice apple pie, homemade ice cream, and banana pudding.
The silence was deafening but for me it felt nice, like she was saying a silent thank you even after kissing me more times then I can count and remember, jumping with joy and thanking me profusely.
With forks and silverware clinking on the plates, she broke the silence first.
“You know, Namu…this is exquisite, much better than Ron could ever do.”
She looks up from her plate, smiling as the lightbulb in my head is slowly turned on.
“Y-you knew?” I’ve never felt fear in my life. Never when facing off opponents akin to literal gods nor when massacring nearly millions of alien species with more technology, powers, and intelligence to rival even the smartest human. But, sitting in front of this human woman, for the very first time I felt my heart skip a beat.
She only shrugs, going back to eating like we are having a normal conversation.
“Since you walked in,” she begins.
“I was impressed. You managed to get the tiniest details. His small freckles on his cheeks, the dimple on his right side, even the way his eyebrows are in a permanent scowl, always furrowed.”
She stops playing with her food, pointing the fork at me, looking me straight in my eyes.
“But you missed such an obvious detail,” her eyes furrow. “The eyes. His soulless black fucking eyes that only a psychopath would have. You must be questioning just how dumb I can be for you to think I would miss that when all my life I have spent pleading with them to look at me with something besides hatred.”
I’m rooted to my seat, too scared to look away from her. Her chair scrapes harshly against the wood floors as she gets up and slowly saunters towards me.
“Whether or not you or someone else killed him, his fate was sealed. He was destined to die that night either by my hands or someone else’s.”
“H-how?” I have a question. She grabs the knife that we used to cut the turkey, turning it over numerous times in her hand like it was a toy.
“Pepper. He’s deathly allergic to it, not even a bunch of it, barely a sprinkle. So–- my suspicions already high—whne you don’t drop dead, something tugs at my heart. My husband is dead, that is a fact, when you show up wearing his skin I assume. But knowing I couldn’t get that sweet bliss of killing him, seeing him convulse on the floor and writhe. Those few seconds of suffering would never amount to years of his abuse,” she looks mournfully at the knife before sitting on my lap, the knife at my throat.
“But it would amount to something–just a little bit.” She presses the tip of it harder. “You took that from me.”
She looks at my eyes as if searching for something before she puts the knife down and out of reach for the both of us.
“But I’m grateful. These three weeks have felt like heaven compared to the six years with him ever could. I wouldn’t change anything for the world.” She grabs at my hair, pulling my head back as she licks a stripe up my neck.
“And the sex is just…wonderful. That first night was ” She giggles before letting go.
“You could kill me right now and I would die—”
“I won’t. Never.” It’s my turn to look at her now, cradling her face in my hands.
“If my hands were to ever bring harm to you, even a scratch, I would never forgive myself.”
“Ron said the same thing.” Her eyes furrow once again. “What makes you think I should trust you just because you decided not to kill me for these past three weeks?”
I have nothing to say. For the first time in my life, I have no words, no rebuttals, nothing. So I speak truthfully, no lies, no barriers, just the truth.
“I-I can’t lie to you. I planned to kill you but…that was before I saw you. I did plan to tell you eventually–truely I did. But when you would look at me, wake up with that bright smile of yours, kiss me before you left for work, or even say ‘maybe another round’ after a long night I didn’t want to ruin this moment. I didn’t want to lose this-this-this life I have sought out since the beginning. I didn’t want to lose you, lose whatever we could have had, the start of whatever happened no matter what. No more running, no more hunting for my next meal, just a simple life with you.”
I don’t notice how hard my hands are gripping hers.
“Wow,” her legs now straddling my lap. “I like this side of you.” She reaches up and touches something on my head. I think it’s my hair but somehow the real me, the alien side, has slowly come out.
I try to resist the urge to purr while she touches the small horns on my head before running the tips of her fingers along the long bones that are hidden beneath a soft layer of jello-like skin, only revealed when in use. They protrude and run along my side from the very top of my head to the tip of my tail—I hope my tail wasn’t out, probably wagging like a tornado.
She hums as I bury my face in her boobs, embarrassed a little bit.
“Oh, how cute.” She leans into my ear to whisper closer. “How about we move this to the bedroom?”
Toji was a big man, he knew this, so it makes perfect sense that he would have a girl that was thick in all the right places, especially the stomach. He adores you, dotes on you, he can never seem to get enough of you. He loves everything about you. Your smile, how you don’t take anyone’s bullshit even his, and how you love him with all your heart even after all of the horrible, fucked up shit he’s done. So he makes sure to show you alllllll his love at the end of the night.
He’s got you bent over the couch, holding onto your ankles as he fucks the living daylights out of you. Your ass jiggling in waves with every harsh thrust he delivers. Fingers gripping the couch you mewl for Toji, back arching just like a cat. Letting him feel all the right spots. Your walls tighten around him, pulling him deeper.
“Ah–baby ya’ gotta stop squeezing me like that.” Toji could have sworn he was in heaven, “Cuz y’know I can’t control myself when you get like this….” He palms the globes of your bottom, spreading them apart so he can see his length hammer into you. He moans watching your cunny flutter and pull him in every time he leaves.
“Give it t’me Toji!!!” You moan circling your wide hips back and he felt like he was gonna bust a nut right then and there. But, he holds out, the final straw in his synapse breaking. He cruelly pushing down on your back, making your arch deeper. “You want me to give it ta’ ya’?”He grunts angling his cock upwards, he sinks in with one mean push.
“Then I’ll give it to ya’.” He started at an irregular rate, balls slapping against your wet skin making the most obscene ‘flap’ ‘flap’ ‘flap’ noises you’ve ever heard. Your body jiggled from the sheer force at which he pummeled your pussy with.
God, you are so hot, sexy, beautiful. Every single thing ran through Tojis’ mind watching you come undone underneath him. So as you can around his cock, core warping around him, milking him clean, he knew that he couldn’t ever live without you<33
didn’t feel like doing work so i came up with smth instead of doing an assignment
lovestruck!incubus who really has nothing better to do so he stalks the night, looking for someone to feed on when he encounters you in a bar, a beautiful girl who’s looking far too sad.
normally he goes after people who are uncomplicated and are good with a one night stand but lovestruck!incubus is so instantly drawn to you that he ignores his own rule.
you look absolutely stunning despite the despondent look on your face, tears running down your chubby cheeks like raindrops. you had come to go on a date with an acquaintance whom you were crushing on just to be stood up maliciously. now despite the gorgeous formfitting dress you put on, you feel so utterly… unattractive.
you’re stuck in a spiral of sadness when lovestruck!incubus hands you a tissue and softly asks if he can buy you a drink. the two of you get to talking and he eventually cheers you up, getting a giggle out of you during your conversation. his heart flutters at the sight of your smile, at first shy and small grow so beautifully.
lovestruck!incubus (probably) can handle a few more days without feeding; right now, he just really wants to make you smile like that again.
Toji loved thicker girls, for someone who is built like a tank, filled with muscle; he enjoyed when his big hands couldn’t hold all the flesh that filled your ass. He wasn’t really into cardio bunnies, he liked women who were plump; with a juicy ass, big breasts, and a tummy that would jiggle with every thrust of his hips.
Toji loved chubby girls for their fat pussy. The way your cunt could barely be contained in your cute thong? He was ripping that little lace right off. He’d have you tighten your thighs around his head, feeling the warmth of your skin all over as he lathered his tongue all of your tight pussy. Toji’s balls would squeeze whenever your fat pussylips would suck in his cock— making that nice squeak of pleasure!
He worshiped your body like no other man could. Toji reveled the way his abs glided against your soft stomach, or how you’d moan at the way his strong arms held you. He never made you second guess if he could take you while you were topping him—- he even made you slam harder into his cock without any hesitation.
If he had trouble holding one boob with one of his palms—- get on his dick right now.
A/N: I fucking love chubby women, Jenni Rivera in a tight skirt… I’m folding.
Your request had been one with (mostly) joking intentions. The adult content you posted was decent, but you needed something to wow the people that paid good money to see you undressed through a screen.
When you asked Reiner if he would have sex with you for different content, you expected him to say no and then, despite being close friends for years, block you.
However, he happily said yes to your ask with a little too much enthusiasm for someone who swore was just a friend.
The camera was long forgotten, running up your storage as the video grew longer and longer. But you didn't care about that - you were too focused on taking Reiner as deep as you could.
"Ngh- Rei, harder please!" You moaned out, fingernails digging into the skin of his back. Reiner grunted, giving a hard thrust forward, even though he was as deep into your pussy as he could get.
Reiner was huge, much bigger than you were expecting. It took your all to not look shocked in front of the camera.
"Fuck, baby..." Reiner muttered into your ear, losing himself in the feeling of your cunt swallowing him up. "I'm gonna cum if you keep squeezing my cock like that."
You murmur something unintelligible into Reiner's ear, closing your eyes in pure bliss as his thrusts sped up, fat tip hitting your g-spot with every rigid motion.
"God, Reiner! I'm gonna cum!" Clenching hard around his thick length, your orgasm crashes over you, your cum frothing at the base of his cock.
Reiner's hips stutter forwards and he's filling you up seconds later, painting your walls white with his cum.
You hiss as he pulls out, leaving you empty. Glancing over to the camera, he smirks before returning his gaze to you.
"Let's keep that video for ourselves and make one more to post, okay?"
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frat!kuna wants to hear your pretty noises (shy!reader)
even though sukuna wasn’t very vocal, that didn’t mean he didn’t want you to be. when you randomly went quiet underneath him, he wasn’t pleased. his thick cock split you open, causing your gummy walls to flutter around his length. you were squirming underneath him with your pupils blown wide as you took him. sukuna was in awe—you looked beautiful under him just as always—but something was missing. aside from the sound of skin on skin, it was quiet. too quiet.
“don’t go silent on me,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “i need to hear you.”
you were flustered. you turned your head away in embarrassment and shook your head. he snapped his hips again, tip nudging your cervix. you bit your lip to suppress the moan threatening to escape from you.
“are you embarrassed?” sukuna asked. “there’s no need to be, i promise.”
you hesitated, moved by his reassurance. he felt good and you wanted to show him that. but, you were shy. plus, it wasn’t like he made any noise other than his praise and a few low grunts here and there. you didn’t want to do it alone.
“taking me so well,” sukuna groaned. “so fucking tight you’d think i didn’t take good care of you.”
you let out a quiet moan, back arching. it was so hard to keep quiet, especially with the way he buried you to the hilt. you were so full of him you couldn’t think straight. heat pooled in your stomach as he fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.
sukuna was close too, how could he not be? your warm walls hugged his length tightly, practically sucking him into your tight cunt. the sight of you under him was enough to get him off. but without the sound of your broken cries, he wasn’t sure if he could finish just yet.
sukuna decided instead of telling you you weren’t alone, he’d show you. the groan he let out snapped you out of it. you clenched around him immediately at the sound.
“‘kuna,” you whined without even realizing it. “feels s’good.”
“there she is. my pretty girl, don’t hide from me. let me hear how good it feels, yeah?”
you nodded and spread your legs even wider. sukuna angled his hips slightly to where his cock reached your sweet spot with each thrust. the delicious stretch was blinding. you cried out his name as you took all of him. his balls slapped against your ass, the lewd sound filling the room and egging him on even more. sukuna groaned into your ear and whispered to you.
“you’re close? come for me, need to hear it and feel it.”
you weren’t as quiet when you came. your orgasm shattered over you at his words. you cried out his name and gripped his bicep. as you came down from the high, you panted, lip quivering as you caught your breath. sukuna followed you right after. he buried you to the hilt with his cock, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your pussy. he groaned softly before collapsing on the bed beside you. his arms found yours, pulling you close to his chest. you put your ear to his chest and listened. his heart was pounding so hard like it was about to burst. you looked up at him with a small smile. he mirrored it and pressed his lips to your forehead.
“to be honest, i don’t think i can go again without hearing you,” he admitted. “don’t be afraid, i got you. always.”
summery: Wooyoung has barely had any time for himself before he could even think about you, the past few weeks he has been working like a maniac due to his firm's new investment deal. Getting home either extremely exhausted or late everyday had gotten out of hand for him. All he wanted needed was you.
warnings: Bf wooyoung, fluff, sweet, tension, suggestive, lovey to nasty wooyoung, flirting, pet names, no use of y/n, drooling, spit, fingering, p in v, cream pie, sloppy makeouts, desperate wooyoung, (woo owning a black girl cat mentioned!!).
track list: fever is this real? kinky love
As Wooyoung lazily strolled through the front door of your shared apartment he instantly caught the scent of warm musky vanilla had dispersed around the warmly lit apartment from all the candles you love. Spotting the dark fluffy feline sat by the window in a haze he lightly cursed under his breath with a small smile, shrugging off his blazer walking over to the window nuzzling his face against Onyx's fur letting out a soft hum.
"Nyxie girl I missed you." Wooyoung murmurs against the purring cat scarcting her behind her ears and neck. Wooyoung had been out of the house since 5 in the morning every day for the past 2 weeks due to his big meeting today, where he was meant to present on his company's behalf.
Fortunately it went great even though it was now 11pm and he was utterly exhausted only looking foward for spend the weekend in bed with you. Hearing the muffled sounds of the tv from the bedroom, walking in his gaze immediately lands on you sprawled across the bed cuddled up with your stuffed bunny immersed in whatever show you're binging currently. Turning at the noise you meet his gaze, a soft smile lacing over your face.
"Hi baby." You looked up at him slowly sitting up from the bed as Wooyoung lets out a exhausted sigh flopping onto the bed. "You're late again... long day?" You ask running your fingers through his raven hair. He nods leaning into your touch. "Yeah, I'm not going to leave this bed the entire weekend angel." He huffs keeping his eyes closed causing you to chuckle. Finally he looks up at you taking in a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly leave his body.
"Baby..." His voice softened as he reached up tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear cupping your face, grazing your cheek with his thumb as her admired you. "Missed you all day baby." he grazes his fingers down your neck running over your collarbones, down the middle of your chest stopping at your waist. "Coming home to you makes everything better."
You sigh leaning into him with a teasing smile as your hand trailed down resting against the back of his neck softly caressing it. "Yeah..?" you ask causing a hazy smile to appear on his face. "Yeah, c'mere." He whispers with an amused look tugging you down from your waist, peppering soft kisses against your jaw down to your neck feeling your heightening pulse. He hums as your head falls back giving him more access to your neck.
Wooyoung smiles pulling away for a split second before pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, grabbing the bottom of your thighs he pulls you on top of him making you let out a gasp. Feeling your skin now burn with need and cheeks flaming, your legs on either sides of his hips as his own hands tighten around your waist. "God you taste so good.." He pants against your lips, his hands keep a grip on your hips keeping you down as you feel him harden against your heat. You let out a needy moan, arms wrapped around his shoulder tugging at his hair.
Wooyoung groaned using your parted lips to push his tongue in, loving the way you almost melt against his him. His rhythm never frantic, always controlled but still filled with want. He explores your mouth like he's lost in it, hands now slipping under your tee caressing your back as if he was afraid to miss a single part of your body that hadn't felt his touch.
"Woo.." You let out a small whine against his lips as you feel your hips move instinctively. Wooyoung grunts breaking the kiss, panting softly as he looks up into your dazed eyes, filled with lust, pupils dilated. "Patience angel." he grinned at your frazzled state, "Gonna take good care of you, baby." His voice husky as he trails his hands back down your body firmly gripping your ass making you grind harder against him, you squirm when he lips closing on your skin under your ear sucking as nipping at it before using his tongue to soothe the area. "Mmm been thinking about you all day..." He whispered against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "Fuckin' aching to have you."
"You have me baby... Always." You moaned arching into him. Wooyoung grinned, his fingers rested on you inner thighs dancing on your skin teasing you, before his fingers slipped under the fabric of your little shorts as your fingers tug at his roots. He groans tipping his head feeling your heat through her panties, making his dick throb his face flushed blown out in pleasure. "Fuuuck, you're soaked through your panties already, baby." His fingers brushing against your clit through the thin wet fabric of your panties. "The things that you do to me..." He bunched up your panties against you slowly tugging at them as the fabric rubs up against your clit, you squeal whimpering against his ear.
"Woo fuck- stop fucking teasing!" You pant while he chuckles pushing your panties to the side, dipping his fingers into your slick folds, stroking your sensitive clit making you let out a long moan. "Like this baby?" He purrs slipping two fingers into your pussy slowly pumping them in and out, pressing and messaging your walls. You nod, your brows furrowing in pleasure. "S-so good..." He hums his eyes fluttering enjoying your state. Increasing his pace, his fingers curling into you hitting all the right spots, his thumb finding your clit circling it. "Yes! Just like that oh my god Woo!"
Shameless moans spilled out of you between broken breaths, Wooyoung grinning up at you. Your grip in his hair tightening, tugging harder as a familiar warmth blooms in your stomach making you grind against his palm. "Yes. Use me baby..." He pants pumping his fingers faster into you feeling your walls clenching around his fingers.
"Wooyoung!- I'm g-gonna- ah!" All your muscles contract as euphoria looms over your body, your fingernails dig into Wooyoung's neck. "Give it to me angel yes... So good for me." He whispered against your ear nipping at it, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit sending you over the edge gushing all over his hand. Collapsing onto him you panted softly against him. he lets you come down slowly, slipping his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean.
"You taste so fucking good, baby," His lips curling into a satisfied grin. "But I'm not done with you yet." Your breath hitches when he swiftly flipps you over pinning you down against the bed as he hoveres over you, hastily he unbuttoned his shirt as you helped him unbuckle his pants. In no time your clothes scattered the floor, pulling him down to your level kissing him roughly, Wooyoung groaned lifting your tank top over your tits wasting no time having his hands roam over them as he squeezed and messaged them. "Woo... P-please.." You arched into him as his thumb flicked your nipple pinching at it before his mouth landed on your other one sucking and swirling his tongue around it moaning into your skin before pulling away with a soft pop.
Gazing down at you with a drunken look, you take in his now plump red lips and the area around his mouth wet and glistening, running your hand down his body teasingly as heat spreads through your body once again. "Need to be inside you, baby." He rasped, discarding his boxers his voice thick with desire as his length springs free. His burning pink tip glistening with a bit of his release oozing out. Your mouth waters at the sight. He smirks, "You want me to fuck you baby?" You nod breathlessly, "God- fuck please.." Legs wrapping around his waist pressing yourself closer to him as he positions his cock at soaking cunt, teasing you with his tip gently spreading you folds and nudging at your clit making you squirm.
"Need you so fuckin bad..." he groans against your lips, you bite his bottom lip looking up at him silently begging. Keeping forehead against yours, eyes heavy and pants spilling from his mouth, he slips is pulsing cock in inch by inch as you breathe out spreading your legs further letting him fill you up. You mouth falls open against his, he pushes in completely settling inside you nipping at your bottom lip while your walls adjust to him.
"Always taking me so well, angel, such a needy pussy, not letting me go." He pulls his hips back slowly, making you feel every inch, vein and bump before sliding his dick back in with a grunt, burying his cock deep inside your fluttering cunt. You whine wrapping your legs around him tightly as he pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being one with you.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he moans, sliding his cock in and out of you slowly, starting down at you with a hazy smile, making your body tingle. Your nails drag down his back causing him to wince halting his pace as he accidentally thrusts into you hard. "Yes! Mhmm.." You slur, he groans shaking his head. "I'm trying to be nice here baby... You want it rough?" He grumbles snapping his hips against yours in another hard thrust, you gasp biting your lip arching into him. "Nasty girl, wanna get treated like a slut? Hm?" Wooyoung pants pulling out before sinking in with a renewed pace, fucking you hard and deep into the mattress as his hands curl underneath your knees spreading you open like you're paper, hitting all the right places.
Moaning weakly has he stares down at your flushed face twisting in bliss, he lets out a small scoff. Almost like he was bullying you, mocking your pathetic state. "Oh my baby... You like that?" His thumb tugs at your bottom lip, sinking into your mouth pressing down on the back of your tongue. "Like feeling full of my cock?"
Not being able to nod you try mumble out a yes that ends up sounding like a cry. Wooyoung feels almost electric at the sight snapping his hips in hard sharp thrusts kissing at your gspot making your eyes roll back. He lets out a jarring moan himself nodding as he heaves above you.
"Take it baby... I know you can, look at you... Feels good right?" Wooyoung replaced his thumb in your mouth with his lips in a short wet kiss, you whimper against him. "Right...?" He repeats, voice dropping dangerously low as he pulls back, a string of saliva disconnecting from both of your lips.
"Yes! F-fuck so good.. hah!" You cry against his lips, he growls hands gripping your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds you. "That's it, yeah... Taking me like your pussy was made for me- fuck!"
He shutters when you clench around him, dropping his head into your neck, whimpering as he gently bites your earlobe. "Woo- ah! too much!" You mewled legs shaking, Wooyoungs pace not slowing down one bit. "Fuckin' take it." He rasps directing his gaze down at the filthy sight, now slowing the pace of his cock sliding in and out of your glistening cunt.
Mesmerised by the it moaning loudly before wrapping your legs around his waist fucking you at a feverishly fast pace. "You have no idea how insane you make me feel angel- Fuck such a tight little pussy." His breathing staggers as he mumbles out incoherent sentences whilst he sits up rutting his cock into you. The slick around your thighs and tits as sweat drips down Wooyoungs chest and abs. He looked down at the drool spilling out the corner of your mouth, bending down to lick it clean. "Mhmm.. Baby's completely cock drunk eh?" He pants against your lips making you lay out a small gasp.
"Woo-" With a gasp you clench around him again, feeling lightheaded. "M close.." Wooyoung drags out a hum throwing his head back, "Cum for me again angel, need you to coat my cock baby c'mon! Not gonna stop till you cum." He begs, gaze running down your body admiring your slick and sweat covered skin. He dips down consuming your lips in a messy kiss as you cry into it tugging at his hair
He adjusts his hips angling them a little upward making your gasp, nails digging into his neck. "Here baby?" He moans starting to hit that spot in a merciless pace. "F-fuck! Gonna c-cum.." You squeal as your whole body jerks melting, the heat in you blending into a coolness. Coating Wooyoung in your release is your creame around him. "Fuuuccckk, such a good girl... M right there with you baby- mmph!"
He whines fucking you through your orgasm nearing his own as you whimper at him slowing down his pace. "Where do you want it baby- ah!" He groans slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, reaching his hand up to cup your flushed cheek, you pant biting your lip whining. "Inside, want you to fill me up- please baby..." Brushing your lips against his is a soft whimper. "Wanna feel you spill out of me, Woo..." Wooyoungs eyes roll back as he juts his hips into you in a deep harsh thrusts letting go. "Shiiittt." He pants painting your walls spilling into you, slowly he pulls out watching the white slick leak out of your cunt. "God you look so beautiful like this." He breathes out, staring down at you for a good few minutes, face flushed with a lazy smile lacing his lips.
"Shut up." You giggle shaking your head pulling him down cuddling into him. He wraps his arms around you as your nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck. "You need to to do something about your work Woo, It's taking a toll on you.." You frown looking up at him, he barely has any time anymore, not just for you but when for himself, you see it's affecting him a lot. "They keep putting you down this, it's gonna suck the life out of you." Your voice laced with concern as he lets out a defeated sigh.
"I just needed to get it over with this presentation, next week I'm gonna talk to them about it." He looks down at you running his thumb over your jaw in with a lovesick look on his face which still makes your heart leap out of your chest. Leaning down he presses a chaste kissing against your lips. "I promise okay? I hate being away from your for this long too baby." He murmurs caressing your arm with his thumb gently, leaning his head against yours. You sigh against him closing your eyes, "Good."
Letting each other's soft breathing lull you both to sleep, Onyx walks in the room with a small meow hopping on the bed between the both of you, cozing up falling asleep herself.
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; Headcanons on how I think San would be as a stalker.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; Stalker!San x Fem!Reader.
☆ — 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 416. ☆ — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Smut — DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. ☆ — 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Brother’s best friend trope, sneaking into y/n’s bedroom, perfume sniffing, stealing, san plays the hero act, love letters, shampoo sniffing, masturbation (m!rec), whiny!san, san keeps your picture in his wallet, sex doll, fantasizing, jealous!san, kissing, lying, and a foot fetish.
♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @eunseoksgirl @threepointstogrifendor @mingkisdoll @groovyravenagain @matznana @smuttaburger @barbtiny @yeosangholic1 @maliabobea15 @pyuddings @mourninglizzy @joonginism @m4rs-m00ni3 @sangieholic send a ask to be added or removed!
A/N — I’m finally back from my break after like six days 😭. And I still am in a slump, so if it’s bad. I fully apologize. I just don’t have it in me to write it how I want to.
Stalker!san who started out as your brother’s friend. Having only met you once before he was hooked on you.
Stalker!san who always keeps finding an excuse to be near you whenever he’s over. Saying ‘oh, your brother needs this.’ But never grabbing what was needed, simply standing a little too close for your own comfort.
Stalker!san who sneaks off to your bedroom whenever you leave the house, going through your perfumes to see which one you wore the first time he met you.
Stalker!san who found your lucky charm bracelet hanging on the head post of your bed, pocketing it so you go insane when you’re searching for it, just give it back to you a day later to play hero.
Stalker!san who always writes you love letters, placing them under your door. But his name is never marked, so you can’t ever tell who they’re from.
Stalker!san who remembers the name of your shampoo, simply so he can buy one for his own house. Not to use, but to smell whenever he misses you and isn’t able to see you.
— “There’s my pretty girl.” “I’m not your girl, San.” “I’m the man for you. You just don’t see it yet, babydoll.”
Stalker!san who goes to the bathroom in your house, finding your bathing suit hanging over the shower curtain to dry. And before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed your bathing suit bottoms to masturbate with. Whining your name quietly as he cums.
Stalker!san who always has a picture of you in his wallet, so whenever another girl flirts with him. He can show you to them with the excuse of ‘this is my wife’ even though you’re not even having sex with him.
Stalker!san who buys a sex doll that looks just like you, fantasizing about hearing you moan and writhe underneath him whenever he fucks the doll.
Stalker!san who always gets jealous whenever he sees you out clubbing with a man. To the point he’ll walk right up to you and kiss you. Simply because he can’t control himself anymore around you.
Stalker!san who tells you ‘you were drunk, your mind is toying with you.’ Whenever you asked him on why he kissed you.
Stalker!san who steals your favorite pair of high heels, just to rub them against his bulge to tease himself to the point he breaks, imaging how soft and delicate your feet look in them.
𝐂𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐖: Married couple, wife!Reader, teasing, water fights, SMUTTT, vaginal fingering, PiV sex, cock drunk, soreness after sex. Minors DNI 🔞
𝐀/𝐍: This is just an extension to this little blurb lol. Had Megan playing in my head while writing this 😩
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: An unfinished sink of dishes. A forgotten basket of laundry. A husband who refuses to leave his wife alone for more than five minutes. Living with Carlos means accepting that chores rarely stay chores for very long.
The kitchen had settled into a comfortable quiet as the evening sank deeper into the night. The only sounds left were the steady rush of running water and the gentle clink of porcelain as you rinsed another plate and set it beside the sink to drain.
You heard your husband’s footsteps before you felt him. Broad arms slipped around your waist, drawing you back against his firm chest. A warmth settled between your shoulder blades as his lips brushed the side of your neck before planting a soft kiss.
Carlos never had to move quietly around you. Years ago, he would move with stealth whenever he went. Every step had been measured and every corner was approached with caution.
Home was different. It meant he could announce himself with heavy footsteps, wrap himself around you without a second thought and know that the only thing waiting for him was your quiet laugh instead of danger.
You caught the familiar lingering scent of soap and clean cotton from him. It was a simple smell, yet you had grown to love it. Long gone were the days when gun oil, ammunition and smoke seemed woven into every thread of his clothes that refused to wash away no matter how many times they were scrubbed.
This felt like a breath of fresh air and suited him far better.
“Are the dishes done yet?” he murmured against your neck, his beard tickling your bare skin with every word.
“Barely half done.”
By now, you were used to Carlos’ habit of seeking you out whenever the two of you were home, especially when you were in the middle of chores. The pleading tone no longer worked quite well as he hoped.
Carlos sighed dramatically before planting another kiss.
“Can’t you take a break?”
He was aware it was a pointless question to ask… You hated leaving dishes until morning. Waking up to a sink full of dirty dishes from last night's dinner was enough to sour the start of your day. So you’d always rather finish them before bed, no matter how full or tired you were.
Tonight’s dinner had left more behind than usual. Pots, trays and serving bowls. It would take a little longer to get it all done.
“You know,” you said, handing him a wet plate, “you could help, and we’d be done in half the time.”
Carlos laughed softly against your shoulder, already calling defeat.
“Alright, alright. I’ll help.”
He stepped away, moving to the side of the sink and reaching automatically for a tea towel. Even while drying dishes, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself.
You would feel a gentle bump of his shoulder against your side or his fingers brushing yours as you hand him another plate to dry.
Small touches that said exactly what words didn’t. Almost like he was making sure you wouldn’t forget his presence.
The rhythm of washing and drying settled in once more. Water ran steadily from the tap. Plates and glasses clinking against one another before disappearing into Carlos’ waiting hands.
Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence. It was the kind that came with regular routines.
Maybe that was exactly why the thought hatched in your head.
As you passed him another plate, your fingers hovered beneath the running tap for just a second longer. Without warning, you flicked a spray of water in his direction.
You smiled deviously when a few droplets landed across his cheek.
Carlos halted, turning to look at you, eyes widening in exaggerated disbelief as a hand drifted dramatically to his chest.
“… You wound me.”
You bit back a laugh. “It was barely a splash.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, his plan mulling in his head.
“So…” he said, setting the plate and towel aside with suspicious calm. “That’s how it’s gonna be now?”
Before you could respond, he scooped up a handful of water and flicked it towards you. Cold droplets splashed across your face.
You flinched as you felt the water hit you instantly.
“Hey—”
Water trickled down your cheek and beneath your collar as Carlos laughed without any remorse.
“You started this.”
“I literally sprinkled water on you,” you protested. “You summoned a whole tsunami!”
He tilted his head, pretending to consider that.
“Do you want to see a real tsunami?”
The mischievous look in his eyes was a warning.
You were too afraid to ask what he meant and before you could get a word out, his hand disappeared beneath the stream again.
You barely had time to process before another splash of water hit you full force, soaking the front of your shirt.
“Carlos-!” you gasped before letting out a shocked laugh.
“No take-backs,” he declared, entirely too pleased with himself.
Closing the distance in two easy strides, he backed you gently against the counter, wearing the unmistakable grin of a man who believed he already won.
“Can’t escape now…”
You blink up at him, amused.
“Is that right?”
He nodded. “Mm-hmm”
“And you’ve considered every possible outcome?”
“Every single one.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too hard.
Unfortunately for him, he’d forgotten the sink was directly behind you. Keeping your expression carefully innocent, you reached behind your back until your fingers found the sponge.
The whole time, Carlos didn’t notice. Not until you brought the sponge in front of you and squeezed. A stream of warm, soapy water poured straight in front of his shirt.
Carlos took a few steps back, his eyes darting between his shirt and the sponge in your hand.
“… Fuck.”
His soaked t-shirt was clinging to his skin now, the outline of his muscles across his abdomen more defined beneath the damp fabric. The wet cotton accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders.
You barely had the chance to appreciate your husband’s physique before he scooped you up effortlessly and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, laughing all the while.
“Carlos!”
Despite your protest, he carried you out of the kitchen, leaving damp footprints across the floor. Both of you were still soaking from your water fight.
“You wanna play dirty? Fine. But now you’re stuck with me,” he declared triumphantly as he marched toward the couch.
“Wait—”
You squirmed in his arms but it was futile. He paid no mind to your protest, continuing his victory march into the living room.
With an exaggerated flop, he threw himself onto the couch with a soft thud before carefully settling you onto his lap, your legs naturally falling on either side of him.
You could already tell from the look on his face and the unmistakable glint in his eyes that Carlos was planning something. The couch wasn’t a punishment here, it was simply the beginning of the next round.
Not only was the soapy sponge that set something in him, but seeing the smug smile you wore afterwards made him feel obliged to get even with you.
Carlos knew he was stronger than you, and in moments like these he’d deliberately hold back just enough to make it a challenge. Winning wasn’t nearly as satisfying if you never stood a fighting chance. Besides, the competition was half the fun.
You’d always admired the way his face lit up during your little play fights, the teasing grin that replaced the hardened expression he’d once worn almost every day.
It felt like eons ago you’ve been introduced to the mercenary side to him who lived by discipline, instinct and survival. Now, you had the privilege of knowing the man beneath it all. The one who could laugh until his stomach hurt over something as ridiculous as a kitchen water fight.
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.
Carlos looked entirely unapologetic, far too pleased with himself.
He leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss, warm and lingering. When he finally pulls back just an inch, his thumb brushes over your bottom lip tenderly.
“Unbelievable yours,” he corrected.
You gave a lighthearted scoff at his words, even though you weren’t about to admit that his terrible jokes were adorable. Especially after he kissed you like that.
He pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, the warmth of his lips almost enough to draw a sigh from you. Then he continued, leaving trails of gentle kisses from your cheek to your jaw. His beard grazed your skin, leaving behind a pleasant tingle, a contrast to the tenderness behind each kiss.
Finally, he found his way to your neck, navigating to your most sensitive spot he knew always made you shiver. But you still had your senses and you put two and two together when you figured out where this was heading.
“The dishes aren’t done…” The weakness in your voice overshadowed your conviction.
Carlos only chuckled softly against your neck.
“The dishes can wait,” he whispered. “You’re the only thing I’m interested in now.”
Normally you would argue back and put your foot down. You were always strict about finishing chores before winding down. But with his hands resting at your sides and his kisses, you found you didn’t quite have the willpower to protest.
His hands trailed lower until they reached the hem of your shirt. You felt them slip beneath the damp fabric, his rough hands gliding over your skin before carefully lifting the shirt over your head.
Since you were already bra-less, the water from earlier had seeped through the fabric, leaving your skin cool and damp. Exposed to the open air, a faint chill came over you.
“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Carlos husked, his gaze sweeping from your bare chest to your eyes.
You bit your lower lip, suddenly finding it much harder to hold his gaze. Compliments from Carlos still had a way of unravelling you, no matter how many times he’d said them.
One hand enclosed around your breast, kneading it in his palm. His thumb brushed over the hardened peak of your nipple, sending a shiver through you.
Before long, he positioned himself until he was on top of you, with your back against the couch. His shirt was also still damp from earlier, clinging slightly from where it never had the chance to dry.
He was closer and the position you were in made it impossible to steer his attention away from you. That thought made you self-conscious for a moment, though it quickly faded when you met his gaze. There was still familiarity and warmth in there, softened now beneath the cockiness moments before.
Back when you were still pining for each other, Carlos would look at you like you were the golden rays of sunlight peaking through the windows. A light out of place in a world that’s ruined by chaos and biohazards.
Even now, years later and married, he would still look at you with the same admiration and smile. Now there was something different in it too. Like he finally had you where he was always meant to.
“You know… I still think I won.”
Of course he would drag that in the middle of a steamy moment together.
You titled your head, deliberately acting evasive.
“Won what?”
“The water fight.”
“You literally walked away soaked from the sponge.”
“Details.”
He reached lower until his fingertips reached the waistband of your shorts. They were removed swiftly, leaving you in just your underwear now. He then toyed with your arousal.
The wetness from your cunt soaked through your undies, making it slick under his touch. A moment later, he hooked his fingers to the waistband of your undies and tugged them down.
You looked down, watching the strands of your wetness stretched and thinned between the candied fabric and your dewy folds. Your undies were dragged past your knees, the elastic of the waistband relaxed as it passed your calf until they were fully removed and discarded to the side.
Now, the bare sight of you belonged to nobody but him tonight. The open air brushed over your wetness, exposing how much this was having an effect on your libido.
“So wet for me, baby,” he murmured, though it sounded more like a taunt.
His fingers brush feather-light against your petal folds, gathering your wetness on the pad of his fingers before easing the lips apart with a slick sound.
Sinking one finger in, your walls pulled him in eagerly. His thick digits stretching out your core was enough to leave you gasping, momentarily forgetting about the dishes from earlier.
You were so wet already, much to your embarrassment, that he dragged his finger in and out with fluidity.
Carlos chuckled, a smug smirk on his face as he added a second finger into your slick heat. His thumb found your clit, rubbing against it with dexterity.
You couldn’t keep your mouth shut now, breathless moans and prayers of his name left your lips as your head fell back onto the couch.
“My wife is so, so responsive,” he gloated.
“Shut up…”
Despite your defiance, you found yourself gripping the cushion beside you, a wave of pleasure washing over you and making your body sing.
Then, as you absentmindedly lolled your head, your eyes landed on the laundry basket sitting at the other end of the living room.
A pile of clothes staring back at you. The moment snapped abruptly.
“Did you not do the laundry this morning?” you asked suddenly.
He halted, fingers still halfway inside you. For a second, he glanced back at the laundry basket like it betrayed him before his eyes landed back on you.
“Uh…” He cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t get around to do the laundry.
He trailed off, realising he’s not making any excuses for himself. But he refused to let a pile of clothes cockblock him right when he knew you were so close to the height of your peak.
His fingers began moving again, as if trying to make up for his lack of domestic duty.
“Carlos-”
You felt them curl inside you, knuckles-deep. Just the way you liked, the perfect pace and angle, reaching the sweet spot that made you see stars.
Fuck.
You began to squirm beneath him, clinging stubbornly to the last thread of resolve. You were determined to stay annoyed with him for skipping the laundry that morning.
But it was becoming increasingly difficult, especially when Carlos changed the pace of his fingers inside you.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I’ll get it done first thing tomorrow. For now, can we… focus on this?”
Your frustration began to unravel little by little, and Carlos seemed to notice. The faintly guilty look he had worn moments ago gave way to the tiniest bit of satisfaction when you trembled again, as though he knew exactly how close you were to giving in.
“Don’t— hah—” you managed, your voice betraying you far more than you liked. "Don't try and make me forget about it—ah…”
He leaned up to plant a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he murmured against your mouth.
His fingers continued to move, pushing into your silky walls like he was trying to make amends. He didn’t forget to give your clit attention too, giving it gentle circles with his thumb.
You still tried to stand your ground, however. Even though his touch was sending you up the walls. The frustration seemed to mount to that.
“Hmph.”
Your little huff didn’t go unnoticed by Carlos. With his free hand, he reached up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing tenderly along your jaw.
“Please, meu amor,” he murmured. “Let me make it up to you.”
The sudden Portuguese pet name felt like a new dangerous territory that Carlos was willing to step into.
It wasn’t anything new, you’ve heard Carlos slip into Portuguese countless times before. Whether he was muttering to himself or speaking without thinking. Every now and then he would call you pet names in his mother tongue. But never often.
It was never his default. He reserved those words for the moments that truly mattered, when he was comforting you, reassuring you, or reminding you just how much you mean to him.
The fact that he was using it with you now really shows how sincere he was. You pretended to consider his offer for a moment longer before finally speaking.
“Show me how sorry you are,” you said.
Relief melted the tension in Carlos’ expression the instant the words left your mouth. Without another word, he gently pulled his fingers from your cunt, your walls fluttering from the withdrawal.
He rose from the couch and effortlessly scooped you into his arms before carrying you toward the bedroom.
You suddenly became hyperaware that you were the only one without clothes on, the open air brushing lightly against your skin. It was only a short walk, and before you knew it he set you down on the bed with a gentleness that surprised you, as though you were something precious.
His hand found your cheek one more, brushing it with the same tenderness as before. There was an unmistakable fiery glint in his eyes, the same ones you would always notice before he would make you forget about everything but him.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t even remember that I forgot about the laundry.”
A laugh nearly escaped you at that. Trust Carlos to say something so filthy while touching you with a softness that felt like silk.
“That’ll take a lot of work,” you joked.
Carlos only grinned, suddenly looking determined.
“Oh, trust me, baby,” he said lowly. “I’m up for the challenge.”
And you were going to take his word for it.
You watched as he hooked a hand beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.
Even after leaving his mercenary life behind, he still maintained his physique. His strength had simply become a part of who he was.
It made carrying heavy shopping bags effortless, moving furniture a one-person job, and more often than not, he would insist on doing the heavier tasks before you even had the chance to ask.
His body spoke endurance more than vanity.
You’ve seen him shirtless many times throughout your marriage. Your fingertips had traced the familiar contours of his frame, your nails scratched over the surface so often that you could map them out even with your eyes closed.
He looked no less beautiful than the first time you’ve seen him.
Dark hair dusted the centre of his chest before tapering naturally down his torso, a feature you’ve absentmindedly ran your fingers through more time than you could count. It was another part of him you’ve come to know by heart.
He pushed his pants down his legs, kicking them off to the side. His thighs were another impressive feature that you couldn’t get enough of. You could see the lines of each muscle, the way they naturally defined the shape of his legs.
It made his thighs look broad and strong.
You remembered the first time you sat on his lap, feeling how firm the muscles beneath you were and how secure you felt sitting so close to him.
His boxers do nothing to conceal his throbbing erection, the outline straining against the fabric. They were the final article of clothing to come off.
His cock was released and twitched slightly from the lack of attention. It hung out half-mast with veins lined mapping the skin. The broad head was starting to leak from pent up precum. He climbed onto the bed from the foot, his frame carrying a quiet confidence.
A thought suddenly occurred to you when you recalled Carlos’ Portuguese nickname from earlier.
“I’ve always wondered…" you began.
Carlos was still near your legs at the end of the bed. He glanced back at you, pausing.
“Wondered what?”
“How many languages can you speak?” you asked softly.
Carlos looked pleasantly surprised by the unexpected question, tilting his head ever so slightly.
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“You did just speak Portuguese just a minute ago,”
He let out a laugh, subconsciously running a hand along your thigh.
“Okay, okay fair enough.” He smiled. “I grew up speaking English and Portuguese. I speak fluent Spanish too. And during my training, I picked up a few words of French, German and Russian.”
You imagined what that would sound like, Carlos speaking in different languages, slipping effortlessly between accents. He’d always been a quick learner. If anyone could pick up another language with ease, it would be him.
“Ok, Mr Worldwide,” you teased.
“Yeah, yeah, okay smart ass,” he replied with mock offence, failing to hide his amusement in his voice.
His hands trailed upward until they rested at your hips, his hold settling a little more firmly.
“It comes with the territory.”
He paused before moving closer.
“But…” He climbed further onto the bed until he was hovering above you.
Two broad arms braced either side of you against the mattress. What really made you shiver was that you felt his hard cock sandwiched between the both of you.
“Out of all the languages I speak there’s only one I care about.”
“If you say your love language I will spank you,” you warned.
Carlos barked out a laugh, clearly finding your threat amusing, completely unaware that you were being serious.
“Oh really?” he mused, a glimmer of a challenge in his voice. “I’d love to see you try.”
Without another word, you reached behind him. One hand found the curve of his ass and gave it an unapologetic squeeze.
“Don’t test me.”
Carlos jolted, clearly not expecting you to actually follow through with your words.
“Jesus—” he spluttered. “You’re really full of surprises.”
His grip on your sides tightened as he leaned closer, until barely an inch separated the two of you. Then he closed the remaining distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue slided into your mouth, tangling with yours, as his hands continued to explore your body.
Your hands naturally found their way up his arms, fingers curling around his biceps before loosely wrapping around his neck.
“You’re so corny…” you murmured with a smile as he finally pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.
“You know you love it.” He gives your sides a squeeze in return. “Can’t resist my charms.”
As much as you wanted to argue, you couldn’t. Carlos always had a way with words. Somehow, his easy confidence paired with that unmistakable softness never failed to chip away at your resolve until whatever annoyance you’d been holding onto simply melted away.
His tip dragged across your abdomen as he pulled away from you, positioning himself between your knees.
He pressed you closer, sliding his cock up and down between your folds and coating himself in your slick. After some readjusting, a roll of his hips found purchase and the blunt head of his cock pushed into your soaked cunt.
Carlos cleaved deeper. Dark brows furrowed and his face screwed up in bliss. Above you, his muscles flexed, his abs clenching and biceps bulging, as he drove further into you.
He filled you so well and deep that your eyes almost rolled back. Once he bottomed out, he paused, giving you a moment to feel his cock twitch inside you before he finally let out a slow breath.
Carlos then dragged himself back, slow enough for you to feel every ridge and contour against your walls. When he rolled his hips again, his dick filled you with a lewd slap this time. Each penetration was more pleasurable than the last.
Your clit throbbed with each deliberate press of his pelvic bone. Once your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, he increased his pace. Ripples of heat crawled up your spine from the familiarity of him.
“Fuck— you’re incredible,” you moaned helplessly.
Your words seemed to get straight into his head when you saw a feral grin spreading across his flushed face.
“Damn right I am,” he growled. Cocky, even mid-fuck. He slammed into you especially hard to emphasise his point.
“Ah— don’t— don’t get cocky now.”
Carlos laughed while still pounding into you, because of course your sass was still amusing in the midst of things.
“Too late,” he teased, sucking your lower lips.
His next thrust was deliberately slow and deep, a filthy grind that made sure every inch of him rubbed against that sweet spot inside you. He gave you a few more slow strokes with his dick.
And then, he paused to angle your legs higher. He braced one arm on the bed, while the other slid under your lower back so your hips met every push.
Suddenly he piston his hips into your cunt at a relentless pace, the bed creaking in protest from his thrusts. You could’ve sworn you felt him hitting your gut.
Everything he was giving you was mind-numbing. All you could vocalise out were messy moans and broken fragments of his name.
The bedspring creaked and the headboard began rhythmically banging against the wall.
You grew limp beneath him, digging your nails into his back before dragging them down. You were sure it would leave marks on there later.
“Look at you,” he murmured, completely satisfied by his own doing. “So fucking gone for me.”
Sweat dripped down from his brow and his chest. He watched your face unravel with every thrust from his cock, and it was the most delightful sight he’d ever seen.
Your lips were parted, heavy with your moans.
Cock drunk.
It fueled him.
“You want it? You want me to fill you up, baby?” His pace stuttered for a moment before you felt another harsh snap of his hips. “Don’t lie. I can feel you clenching around me.”
You didn’t get to answer, your body did it for you.
Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, sharp and overwhelming and you cried out in pure ecstasy, raw and unfiltered. An explosion of colours unravelled beneath your eyelids. Your walls squeezed around him hard enough to make him spew out profanities and curses.
Yet he still fucked you through it, his control wavering as he chased his own release. Your eyes fluttered as you tried to recollect yourself from your fresh orgasm.
“So…. Fuck… so close. Take it—”
He pressed inside you so deep you swore he was in your ribs spilling with a broken groan, holding you down while his hips jerked against yours.
His cum was almost scorching, a flood that you could feel in every crevice of your womb. It wasn’t long until you felt his dick soften inside you before he eased off you. You could feel your combined releases dripping out of you, between your thighs down onto the sheets.
For a moment, you were both boneless and basking in the afterglow. Carlos' cheek rested on the mattress, right beside your neck. His body twitched and flexed, lost in the post-coital bliss.
With the remaining strength you had, you pressed a hand to his sweat-slick back, your palm slowly tracing over warm skin. Carlos answered by smothering a few kisses on your neck, his beard grazing against your skin.
Eventually, he raised himself on his elbows and eased some of his weight off you. You were still out of it, floating between exhaustion and ecstasy, your mind fogged up from your rapture as you stared blankly into space.
You barely registered Carlos’ hand stroking your face, admiring how spent you looked.
“You still with me?”
Your mind was going in and out of focus, still struggling to keep up with the present. But you managed to pick up on Carlos’ words.
“What… I don’t even know what planet I’m on,” you droned.
Carlos laughed softly, the sound warm enough to coax you back.
“Welcome back to earth… whenever,” he teased softly.
He shifted just enough to roll on his side while keeping an arm securely around you. Your head naturally found its place against his chest, the coarse hair tickling your cheek. The familiar scent of dish soap still lingered on his skin, now mixed with sweat after a long evening.
Once you found your footing again, you looked up at him.
“Where the hell did you learn to do that?”
After all these years together, you didn’t think he could still surprise you.
Carlos lips curled into a bashful smile, rare for someone who was smug about pulling your release so effortlessly just moments ago.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, though the corner of his mouth hinted he already knew.
“The way you lifted my legs like that,” you said. “I didn’t think I was gonna make it to tomorrow.”
“I aim to exceed expectations.”
You gave him a flat look.
“Congratulations. You’re insufferable.”
“But impressive.”
“Okay, okay I’m gonna stop now before your ego ends up somewhere in the clouds.”
Carlos grinned, too pleased with himself now. “I’m just stating facts, baby.”
He pulled you closer anyway, tucking your head under his chin and pressing a gentle kiss on your crown. Whatever cockiness he’d worn moments ago quietly melted away, leaving only the quiet affection that always followed.
The room settled into silence once more, filled only by the steady rhythm of your breathing, the occasional rustle of the sheets, and the comforting beat of his heart beneath your ear.
However, the peaceful moment didn’t last long when you glanced past the bedroom door toward the hallway.
“I hate to ruin the mood, but…”
Carlos tensed slightly at your words, then shifted just enough to look down at you, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he gave you all his attention.
“What up?” he asked gently.
“The dishes still need to be finished.”
He blinked.
He had completely forgotten about the dishes in the heat of the moment.
“Shit… you’re right,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
With a sigh and one last longing glanced at you, he reluctantly started to untangle himself from you and got up, quickly slipping on his shirt and boxers. A man mentally preparing himself for dish duty after a very successful apology sex session.
It was amusing to watch.
You shifted, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. But the moment you stood, a throbbing ache bloomed between your legs, making your wobble slightly.
It took you a second to find your balance before you managed to make your way toward the hallway. The whole time, Carlos watched you, zeroing in on your unsteady step.
“Easy—”
He was beside you in an instant, catching your elbow gently to steady you. His expression shifted immediately into concern.
“You okay?” He didn’t let go until he was sure you weren’t going to topple over.
“You really did a number on me,” you said with a soft, amused smile.
He looked properly chastised now, though there was still a hint of pride beneath it.
“Sorry about that.”
He guided you onto the kitchen stool before pressing a soft kiss to your knuckle, a sweet gesture after such a passionate moment.
Then he rolled up his sleeves and got to work on the remaining dishes. The domesticity was almost funny after how wild things had been an hour ago. Every so often, he glanced back at you to make sure you were alright.
“We’re taking a long shower after this,” you said.
Carlos huffed a laugh.
“Good,” he said. “Because I wasn’t done with you yet.”
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @shypervydolly @alextheripper1985 @def-not-daria @kate-writes @millabela (lmk if you wanna be tagged for Carlos stuff)
Guys, I don’t want to sound like a beg but if you do like my stuff I would really really appreciate it it if you reblogged too 🥹🥹 that’s what keeps this blog running
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I had a hard time with the pose and the position of the arms and gun. After several attempts, I gave up. This is the result. I guess I need more practice. 😉
And Leon Kennedy would want a fat woman to come home to.
At the end of the day that man needs some softness in his life, tender and gentle affection from his beautiful fat wife.
Oh the things he would do to you, how he’d hold onto your thighs, squeezing them with his strong hands.
Your leg thrown over his shoulder so he can fuck deeper into your fat pussy.
Speaking of pussy, he yearns to feel the soft flesh of your thighs squish his face as he indulges in the sweetness of your warm cunt.
And god, grabbing hold of your hips and growling against your clit when you whine about sitting on his face… girl he’s not afraid. If he dies he dies, and quite frankly being suffocated by your pussy is a far better way to go than being eaten by a zombie.
Anyways…
Sorry watching a playthrough and he’s doing things to me…
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