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sum; being inexperienced meant you didn't know your true limits. being with Leon meant you wanted to push those limits.
content; size kink, unprotected sex, overconfident!reader, sort of bratty!reader, inexperienced!reader, there's a hint of Leon being pushy/mean, but in a consensual way (idk how to tag that LMAO), squirting, a little degrading, no specific leon era for this one, this is really just pure filth because I drove myself insane last week LMFAO
wc; 3.5k
a/n; GOD, this choice was hard, guys... im so sorry to those who chose chris for my poll, but I hope this & my last chris post made up for it!!
Leon knew you were a bit of a special case from the moment he met you. Where people would usually be shy, nervous, not confident enough to approach someone, you were... quite the opposite. You approached with a fire in your eyes and a buzz rushing through you and into him, and you weren't even drinking. The moment you approached him at that club, he knew you'd be a problem. And a problem you were. A good one. A problem he was lucky to have.
Until it came to things like intimacy. You'd managed to score a few dates, and eventually, you two ended up dating. The only problem? Once it was official, you became a little insistent on intimacy. Not forcing, but definitely making moves more often. Leon wanted to, he really did, but given the talks you'd had in the past about your lack of experience and how you didn't know what you could and couldn't take because you had never even felt the need for a sex toy on your own, Leon worried that it'd stunt your intimate moments as a couple.
Eventually, of course, Leon gave in, but only to an extent. He'd eaten you out, finger fucked you like his life depended on it, fucked your thighs, and yet, he refused to let you even suck him off, let alone take him into your impossibly achey and needy pussy. He always told you he was too big. He worried it'd hurt you, whether it was your mouth or your pussy. You knew he was big, and you still insisted.
You crawled into bed with him, just like normal, snuggling into his side as he read the book you'd recently recommended to him. He tugged you closer, leaning down to kiss your temple as he closed the book, seemingly ready for bed. It was approaching 9 o'clock, and he had an early meeting, you knew. The early meeting didn't stop you from snuggling up closer until you shuffled into his lap, straddling his hips and looking down at him with a grin. His hands rested at your hips.
"Really? We're doing this again?" He mused, low and laced with exhaustion.
"For real this time, because I'm tired of you giving me excuses." You huffed, hips already beginning to move in slow, easy motions back and forth.
"They're not excuses, they're honesty and protection. You think I haven't wanted so badly to bend you over and take you? Of course I have." He scoffed, hands soothing up your sides as he exhaled slowly.
"So why haven't you?"
"Because I'm too big for you. We'd need to take a lot of time to get you ready. You can barely take three of my fingers before you tell me it's too much." He explained simply, like it was a choice between what deal to go for in a grocery store.
"So what? The shapes are entirely different! How do we even know if I could take it if we don't try?" You frowned, hips wriggling incessantly.
"No, honey. I'm not gonna let your confidence get the better of you." He moved to lift you off his lap, but you grabbed his hands and pinned them beside his head. He raised a brow at you.
"Just the tip. That's all I wanna try." You insisted.
"You know, you holding me down has no change on my answer. It's sexy, but no." He laid his head back and hummed idly.
"Leeooon!" You pouted, hips grinding harder. You could feel his cock stiffening in his sweats. "Please, Lee, just the tip, and if it doesn't fit first try, we can stop."
"Usually, the guy begs for 'just the tip'," he chuckled. "Poor thing, I've really ruined you, haven't I?" He clicked his tongue, feigning guilt.
"Not yet 'cause you won't fuck me right." You grumbled.
"Oh, is that so? I don't fuck you right? Then how come I've got you cumming on my fingers and my mouth and my fucking thighs every other night? Huh? Care to explain that, if I don't fuck you right?" He took his hands from your grasp, one hand grabbing your chin and making you whine, brows furrowing.
"You won't fuck me the right way 'cause you think I can't take it."
"I really don't think you can." He agreed.
"Please, baby!" You shifted, only for him to stop you. "Please, I promise, if it doesn't work, I won't ask again, not until you can prep me right."
"You," he exhaled, grabbing you by the waist, sitting up. "Are such a fucking brat." He cursed, rolling over so that you were flat on your back with his body pinning you down.
You looked up at him, biting at your lower lip. He watched you for a moment, squinting. "Please?" You barely whispered.
"Fine. But don't think you're not gonna get something in return for your behavior. I'm only stalling because I don't have time to fuck around."
"But you have time to fuck me? Good, I wasn't sure I'd be able to wait much longer." You grinned, giggling like a kid who'd just been told they won a million dollars.
"Fuckin' brat." He chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. You met eagerly, lips pressing into his while your arms came to wrap around his neck. Despite his rough words, his hand came to tenderly cup your cheek, deepening the kiss. His other hand worked its way downward to the hem of your night gown, pushing it upward to expose what he expected would be a lace pair of panties—tonight it was bare in two different ways. How did he not feel that through his sweats? Jesus, you knew he'd give in.
He didn't bother trailing his hands up and down, teasing, instead going straight in to press his hand against your mound. You shivered slightly, mouth falling agape at the feeling of his cold fingers pressing between your folds. Of course, he didn't take any time to prep you with his fingers, just simply using two fingers to spread your arousal and massage your clit to accumulate more to act as lube. He knew it probably wouldn't work too well at first, but it'd have to do.
Your hands reached down, pushing lazily at the waistband of his sweats. "It's unfair." You pouted.
"Unfair? Honey, you came to me like this. You came to me all shaven, no panties, not even shorts." He took your complaint, shifting to push down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. He shimmied out of the clothes and kicked them aside before settling his cock against your lower belly, letting you see the size properly. You swallowed, biting your lip as you looked up at him. He had a cocky look, like he expected you to change your mind.
"What? I didn't say stop. Keep going." You huffed, but Leon could hear the faint waiver of your voice as you spread your legs wider.
"God, you really are a needy little brat." He pulled his hips back, sliding his cock between your folds to gather some of your wetness along his length, focusing on coating his tip thoroughly. "You can still back out." He looked back up at you as he lined up with your entrance, using two fingers to carefully hold your folds open for him.
"No. Now hurry up and put your dick in me before I fall asleep." You huffed up at him, hips wriggling eagerly.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
With that, he made the first move, careful as he pushed in, his tip nudging into you. His tip didn't even get inside before you gave a whimper, thighs shaking unexpectedly as your pussy twitched against his tip. He looked down at you, brow raised.
"Shut up. Try again." You demanded, teeth gritted slightly.
Despite that not being the original arrangement, he tried again, hissing as he nearly notched the tip inside, only for your hips to twitch away, overwhelmed at the way his tip tried to intrude so suddenly.
"What did I tell you?" He deadpanned down at you. "Come on, honey, let's just do it the normal way."
"Noo! No, this is the normal way!" You insisted. "'S not my fucking fault you've got a fucking monster cock."
"Mmh, you flatter me, sweetheart." He chuckled, leaning in to shut you up with a kiss. You expected him to pull away and call it a night, but his hand crept down again, thumb pressing to your clit and getting your walls to ease up ever so slightly, a soft mewl leaving you. With you melting into the pleasure, he took a selfish opportunity to push again. You gasped, a choked sound leaving you as his tip notched inside of you finally. You gave a stifled cry, hands flying to claw at his shoulders as your eyes squeezed shut.
"Fuck—okay, I-i don't know if I can do it anymore." You admitted, huffing with uneven breaths as you looked down where you two met. It really was just the tip, and you were already backing out.
"Oh, no," he pulled back, faux pity on his face. "Poor thing, you bit off too much, and now you can't chew? What a shocker." He watched you shiver and twitch, breath shaky as his tip stayed barely notched inside your impossibly tight, unadjusted cunt. "You told me I didn't fuck you right, so now I'm gonna show you just how well I can fuck."
"'M sorry, I thought I—"
"You thought you could take it? Yeah. And you didn't listen to my warning? Of course not. You never listen." You felt him push forward again, and another squeak left your lips, followed by a gasp. He didn't even push in another inch and you were pushing at his hips to get him to pull out.
"Fuck! I'm—haah—I'm sorry!" You looked up at him, brows furrowing.
"Admit it." He demanded, cock pushing its way in ever so slightly, but the burn was far from slight. You choked on something akin to a cry, and he swatted your thigh. "Admit that you've been nothing but a bratty little bitch and now you're whiney because you can't fucking take it."
Tears brimmed your lash line, lower lip falling and letting a small whine fall from your throat. "I-i can't take it, and I.." you paused with a gasp, walls squeezing around the first inch and a half of his length. Your head fell back, nails dragging down his front as your thighs trembled. "Fuck!"
"It's too late. If I stop now, all your progress will be lost. You don't want that, do you, honey?" He teased. You shook your head desperately. The stretch burned, his cock insistent as he felt you twitching and trying desperately to make room for him inside of you.
"Please," you whispered, eyes fluttering closed.
"Please, what?" He prodded for more from you. "I can't do what you want if you don't tell me. You were so eager earlier, now you can't talk? Typical." He scoffed.
"Please, just fuck me already!" You cried, breath hitching as his hips nudged back and pushed forward, allowing another inch to fit. He went through that cycle for a while—pulling back, pushing deeper, every push forcing a gasp or a stifled moan from you—until he was fully sheathed inside of you, your pussy impossibly stretched past every limit you didn't know about. His cockhead was snug against your cervix, barely fitting him all the way in. It was a good thing Leon knew how to properly get you going, or he'd be struggling to fit more than he already was.
By the time he was snug, fully pushed inside of you, your head had fallen limp, eyes closed, lips open with heavy breaths falling. He found it amusing, given he hadn't even tried to fuck you yet, and you were already beyond spent and shaky. He chuckled, watching you finally lift your head to look down where your bodies met.
"Holy fuck." You breathed. You could see a small bulge in your lower belly where he had somehow miraculously managed to fit inside of you, now bulging with his massive he was. Not only that, but you had never felt this full. Even when he was using his fingers to fuck you and you complained that his fingers were too thick and you felt 'sooo full'.
"You happy now? Now that you've got a proper cock inside of you?" He taunted quietly, bringing a hand to grasp your chin and tilt your head back and forth, he fingers lightly squishing your cheeks together.
"Uh-huh." You tried to nod in his grasp, dazed and, although embarrassingly, cock-drunk without even being properly fucked. He wasn't even grinding his hips, making no attempt to move, and he relished in the way your body responded to him. He thought it was the best thing ever when you'd cry and squirm, and this made things a whole lot better. He leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of you stretched out around his cock.
He dropped one hand, thumb finding your clit. You twitched, whining slightly as your walls clamped down around him. "What, you're already that fucking close? You're getting all twitchy and whiney so soon." He purred, hips pulling backward slowly, cock dragging out of you until his tip was all that was left. You looked down and watched, brows furrowed with need.
It burned with both pain and pleasure as he pushed back in faster than before. You moaned louder this time, back arching as your hands flew to grab his shoulders for support. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape as he fucked his cock into you at a pace that overwhelmed your senses. Pain burned away and morphed into a new kind of pleasure that you didn't know you could achieve.
He angled his hips lower, his leaky cockhead pushing up against your g-spot as he thrusted into you, his thumb still focused on your clit. He meant it as a tease originally, but with how twitchy and shaky you'd become in just a minute or two of slow, rough, deep thrusts, he could feel that you were already close. His tease ended up being right. He growled slightly at the thought, brows knitted and nose scrunched in a focused manner as he looked down where your bodies met. You became oversensitive quick, your orgasm building. You tried to reach down to get his hand to slow down its abuse against your puffy clit, but he simply pushed your hand away and swatted at the throbbing bundle of nerves.
You cried out, hips bucking. "Lee—oh, fuck, please!" Your body locked for a moment, eyes rolling back as you bit your lip and fell into stifled whimpers and sobs, your orgasm quiet but intense, rippling through your body so fast you didn't even warn him. He fucked you through it, hips speeding up as your cunt clenched around him. Once your vision cleared, you looked up at him, dazed and mushy.
"And you think I cum too fast?" He chuckled. "Look at you—damn near squirting on my cock just because it's so, so big, and your poor little pussy can't take it." He purred deeply and reached with his other hand to your face, holding your head still by your chin so you couldn't look away as he pumped his cock back and forth, fucking you into overstimulation without even offering a breather. "I wonder—" He paused with a grunt, examining your face with a devilish look you didn't recognize. "You think I could make you squirt just from using my cock?"
Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening with tears that had spilled already. "Wait, n-no, no, 's too much, Lee!" You gasped, hands pushing at his lower torso, another sob ripping from your throat. "No—ooh!"
"C'mon, pretty girl, didn't you say I couldn't fuck you right? Isn't that what you wanted? To be fucked dumb on a fat cock?" He let go of your chin and brought a hand down just a little to wrap around your throat. You squeaked, pussy fluttering around him at the threat of him constricting your airway. He didn't, though. You got more than enough excitement from just the threat alone.
You couldn't be bothered with answering him. You simply laid there and took it—relishing in the sensitivity and the way he was absolutely ruining your pussy. Leon knew he was ruining you for anyone else, and that alone drove him crazy. He could feel his own orgasm building, cock twitching and balls drawing tight to his body. He denied himself the release, persisting in order to make sure he proved just how good he could make you feel.
He had a point to prove. His thumb resumed the previous ministrations on your clit, two fingers rapidly strumming with a firm pressure. You twitched, gasping as your eyes rolled back and fluttered. Your hands grabbed tightly at his forearm of the hand that was around your neck, looking up at him with an abrupt sob leaving your lips.
"Lee, please," you choked out, brows furrowing as you quivered beneath him, abdomen clenching as your body built up to the peak of the coil in your belly.
"Go on, take it. Take what you asked for and I'll make sure you're satisfied for fucking weeks." He slammed his hips harder, the skin slapping lewdly with the added sounds of your arousal coating his balls as they smacked against your ass. You tried to stifle it, but a scream of pleasure ripped from you as he subconsciously tightened his hand around your throat. Still not constricting, but it was enough to make you dizzy.
"Leon! Fuuuuck, fuckfuckfuck—'m cumming!" You sobbed, legs jolting outward as your hips tried to pull away, your orgasm rushing through you like never before. What you didn't process yet was the stream of clear liquid spurting from your sopping cunt, making an absolute mess out of his lower abdomen, your own abdomen, and the sheets below. He fucked you through it, both hands finally coming to grab your hips and properly use you like some kind of cock sleeve as he chased his high. Tears stained your cheeks, your moans becoming higher and longer as you squirmed and tried to run away from the pleasure.
"Stop fucking moving." He dug his nails into your hips. His demand was quickly followed by a growl, hips slamming and his thrusts becoming uneven as his balls twitched and his cock pulsed, his heavy load finally spilling into you. He had you so full that his cum seeped out around him as he bottomed out and let your pussy twitch and pulse, milking him of every last drop. Both of you were shaking. He stayed buried inside of you as he leaned down and mouthed as your neck. He lazily ground his hips, and you cried quietly, thighs squeezing around his hips.
"Lee," you sniffled, shaky hands searching desperately for his.
"Shh," he soothed, slowly pulling out of you as he grabbed your hands. You felt so empty, but so unbelievably satisfied. "Breathe, honey. I've got you." He mused softly, kissing along your collarbone until he found his way up to look at your face and assess the final product.
You were a mess. Tears down your cheeks, drool spilling down the right side of your face, hair messy and sticking to the sides of your face, lips kiss swollen and still wet. If he didn't know better, he'd try to start up round three, but given your sniffles and the way you shook your head, he didn't even try. He got more than what he thought.
He took his hands away only for a moment so he could brush your hair out of your face and gently wipe the tears and drool from your cheeks. When he sat back and guided you to follow into his lap, you curled into his hold, his arms wrapping around you delicately.
"You took me so well." He whispered, kissing the side of your head. "I know I got a little mean," he sighed, prepared to apologize for not listening to your cries.
"Can we do that more?" You asked, looking up at him as you shifted shakily in his lap. "The.. the whole.."
"Baby, we just did a lot." He chuckled. "But we'll talk more tomorrow." He scooted away from the mess and hoisted you into his hold, standing from the bed. "How about a shower?"
You nodded, falling into his hold as you closed your eyes. He really fucked the energy out of you. "Told you I could handle it. Might not be very experienced, but I can take what's given to me." You mumbled quietly.
Clearly, he didn't fuck the attitude out of your system yet.
"Brat." He lazily swatted your butt, only to lean in and kiss your nose with the utmost care.
"You like it."
"Only when it results in you shutting your mouth."
"Jerk."
He chuckled, setting you on the bathroom sink counter to start the shower.
Simon is impossibly deep inside of your warm, wet pussy, thrusting so hard you scoot up the bed as he knocks the air from the lungs while the headboard bangs against the wall. A pillow is strategically placed under your hips so every time he slams inside of you it hits your sweet spot, and your clit catches on the wet material without fail. Your nipples drag across the soft fabric beneath you, your hands clutching at the pillows in front of you, all while you’re being fucked dumb.
“Fuckin’ slut. Wish you could see the way your pussy sucks me in,” he growls, his grip on you turning punishing, his face never faltering as he continues to drill into you from behind.
His fingers are tangled in your hair, yanking on it hard and keeping your head in place so your moans aren’t muffled against the mattress. His other hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make it more pleasurable as your choked sobs ring out around the room.
His thick, long cock slides through your walls as he molds your pussy to be perfect for him. The veins and ridges leave imprints the faster he thrusts, the deeper he reaches, the harder he grinds. Every knock to your cervix leaves you breathless, every brush against your sweet spot has pleasure shooting through your body, and the longer he abuses your poor pussy, the more you beg for it.
“P-please Si, please,” you manage to say, gripping onto the sheets for dear life, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust but trying to run from it all at the same time.
Simon fucks you harder, the sound of your sweet voice begging for him enough to bring him to the brink of his orgasm, but not until you unravel on him for the umpteenth time tonight. His hand smacks down against your ass, your skin burning raw immediately, and he yanks your hair so hard that stars burst behind your eyelids.
“Please what? Be a good girl and use your fuckin’ words,” he says through gritted teeth, biting back an obscene moan that wishes to fall from his swollen lips.
His fingers press into the delicate skin of your neck, your pulse fluttering around his thumb, and the adrenaline of knowing that you’re at his mercy makes your walls clamp down tight around him, earning you a hiss from the man behind you. When you don’t respond in what he deems as a timely manner, his hand strikes your ass again, harder this time, but somewhere in this moment he still feels guilty for it when his thumb brushes over the scorching skin to soothe you.
“More, p-please Si,” you continue to beg, completely consumed by the feeling of his cock inside you, bullying your insides with no pity.
His hand moves from your throat to the pillow in front of you as he steadies himself. Leaning over your back, his cock pressed against your cervix with the utmost amount of pressure, he positions himself to watch your face while he fucks into you like a rabid animal as if he has no compassion or love for the woman under him what-so-ever.
You know he would apologize after. Apologize for being rough, apologize for saying mean things, apologize for acting as if he has no respect for you, but it makes your pussy so fucking wet all you can do is beg for him to be meaner.
“Yeah? Beg for it. Look at me and beg me to make you cum, beg me to make you feel good slut.”
Your gaze lifts to his, and the way his pupils dilate from the sight of you so undone solely because of him has a groan rumbling out from the depths of his chest. Drool drips from your chin while your mouth hangs open ever so slightly. Your eyes are half-lidded and dazed with tears staining your cheeks, your lips swollen and pigmented, and he watches how every single time his cock thrusts until there’s no more space inside you the air from your lungs comes in short, ragged gasps that sound like music to his ears.
“Make me c-cum Si- f-fuck- make me f-feel good, p-please,” you stutter, tripping over every other word, trying your hardest to form sentences coherent enough to beg for it like he asked.
He growls, deep and low, animalist almost, and he shoves your face into the pillow while spreading your cheeks with his other hand to watch your pussy swallow him whole. He fucks you, deep and hard and fast, it is almost too much. Your juices leak out around his cock, coating his length of your arousal, and he watches how tight you get the closer your orgasm gets.
“Do it,” he says, the words coming out strained, “cum on my fucking dick then since you beg so pretty.”
Every movement of his hips is hitting a spot inside of you that bursts into pleasure. Your cervix, your sweet spot, your nipples drag against the sheets until they’re hard and sore, your clit grinding against the pillow beneath you until it all pushes you over the edge. Your body becomes rigid, your muscles draw taut, and your screaming sobs fill the room, and no other sounds can be heard.
“I’m c-cumming-“
“Who makes you feel this good? Who do you belong to,” he asks, fucking you harder, fucking you through your orgasm, fucking you into overstimulation, waiting for the words to fall from your pretty, swollen lips before he allows himself the same release.
“You! F-fuck it’s always you Si,” you whimper, your body twitching from your walls being rubbed raw, from your clit grinding against every last nerve, from your nipples peaking beyond belief.
With a few more thrusts and a guttural groan ripping from his throat, Simon buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed into the deepest parts of you. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, spurting out against your cervix with every twitch of his cock, coating your walls in all he has to give as the man behind you stills while he fills you to the brim. When nothing else will fit it leaks out around him, your cum mixing with his, making a mess between your thighs and spreading against the sheets.
“Fuck,” he groans, collapsing on top of you, trying his hardest to catch his breath.
His face is buried between your shoulder blades, his warm breath hitting your skin and sending shivers down your spine, his hands moving from their previous positions to caress up your sides as if asking for forgiveness through touch before asking verbally. He kisses against your spine, all the way down to your ass where he licks the raw handprint burning against your skin, and when he reaches your pussy, he licks up the mess before flipping you over with ease.
He hovers above you, wiping a stray tear before placing a feather light kiss to your lips. Admiring you, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way you give him the softest yet brightest smile he has ever seen, and he can’t help but cover your face in the same kisses.
“You’re not a slut, and you never have to beg for me…,” he mumbles in between kisses, and before he can keep rambling on you pull him down until your forehead is pressed against his.
“If you say sorry… I swear Simon.”
He laughs softly, “I know, I know. I’m sorry- shit- sorry. Fuck. I’ll just stop talking now, yeah?”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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summary : doing your makeup while sitting on leon's lap
notes : really self indulgent tbh
credits to the owner of the divider!
leon was feeling incredibly clingy today and you'd love to indulge him at his antics but sadly, you have work.
as soon as you woke up earlier, leon was trying to get you back to bed while mumbling incoherently and making some grabby hands at you. your boyfriend is so cute to be honest, but you cant miss work today cause you have an important meeting with some heads so with a kiss on his forehead, you immediately went to get ready and made some quick breakfast.
you ate and drank your coffee at the kitchen alone, thinking that leon will probably wake up later but after finishing up, you decided that you'll bring some cup of coffee for him if he wants to spend his morning in the bedroom.
"why are you awake already?". you asked in confusion when you finally went back in your room with a steaming mug of coffee to do your make up and you saw leon getting out of the bathroom.
"cant sleep without you". he grumbled as he scratches his tummy while walking towards you.
you just shook your head in amusement at him while you went to your closet to finally change into some work clothes. just a simple black pencil skirt, paired with some brown silky long sleeve top. then after adjusting everything, you went to your vanity but you found leon sitting on your plush chair.
"baby, go back to sleep". you softly said as you ran a hand through his hair. you know he's still tired considering he actually just got back from a long week mission yesterday night.
a week of being away from each other, only texts and phone calls are keeping you both sane.
leon hummed against your touch before he wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you gently on to his lap. he squeezed you tight causing you to smile and give him a kiss on his head again.
guess youre doing your make up on his lap today.
with that, both of you just let the silence fill the room while you started putting on your makeup and he's just feeling you up and observing you. from time to time, he takes the mug of warm coffee from the table that you brought with you earlier and takes a sip.
the warmth of the coffee and your weight on him makes him sigh in delight, he missed this. it was only a week but he missed this.
"whats that?". he mumbled as he watched you put something thin on your eyelids.
"eyeliner, its a new brand too". you told him as you finished up putting it before closing your eyes and turned your head towards him. "blow, please".
obediently, he carefully blows on your eyes to make the eyeliner dry. he did it for a few more seconds while his thumb on your thigh caressed the skin.
so soft and warm.
you smiled at him when you finally opened your eyes and leon swore he fell in love again. he watched you put down the eyeliner down on the table and you took another small pink bottle with a circle top on it. you opened it gingerly and tapped the applicator lightly on your hand before closing it back up.
leon kissed your shoulder as you spread the blush on your hand with a finger before patting it on your cheeks and blending it while looking through the mirror infront of you. when you blended everything, you figured its time to put some powder on your face before layering it with a powder blush soon.
"looks so beautiful". he hummed as he watches you through the mirror. he loves the way your blush highlights your apple cheeks.
he watched you put more stuffs on your cheeks and dusting it with some small dab of highlighter. you smiled at him through the mirror before your hands rummaged through your pouch of lippies.
"should i put some lip liner on today?". you asked as you glanced down at the pouch and eyed the different colors.
"sure, hun". he honestly dont know whats a lip liner but he's sure its going to go on your lips, your kissable lips.
you beamed and you took a neutral color one before you leaned more forward towards the mirror with leon holding your hips tightly to not let you fall. you spread the liner with a finger along the bows and ends of your lips after putting it on then you picked a lip gloss.
"wanna kiss you". leon said as he watched you glide the lip gloss on your lips before smacking it together.
you laughed softly at him as you closed the product before you moved closer and wrapped your arms around his neck. he looked at you with heavy lidded eyes but the love in it is so present that you cant help but blush a little.
your hand found the hairs on his nape and you played with it softly as you gazed upon his soft eyes too. sleepy and clingy leon is such a sight for you. he's just so cute and lovely.
"pick me up later?". you asked softly.
"of course, hun". he gave you a sleepy smile and you leaned down to press your forehead against his. "i missed you so much".
"i missed you more, baby". you whispered before pressing your glossy lips on his causing him to hum.
Soooooooo…. Here recently I’ve been thinking a lot about Chris as I usually do. But moreso I was thinking about how maybe he’d crave just a little bit of normalcy in his life. He sees his colleagues and their families, and hears about them all the time. Sure, he’s got a wife that he loves, but there’s just one thing he’s missing…
A kid to call his own.
I’d imagine Chris has always been good with kids. With having to take Claire under his wing after their mother died and seeing how he treated Rose so tenderly, I can see a piece of him wanting to have a baby.
So one night he comes home after a mission, and he just cannot keep his hands off of his precious, beautiful wife. She asks him, “what’s gotten into you?” Between gasps and giggles. Chris can’t help but pull back and start talking about how badly he wants to have a baby with her. And… Breeding kink ensues! Mating press, dirty talk, you know… All that fun stuff!!
Sorry this isn’t as fleshed out as my past requests. I have been thinking about this for waaaaaay too long. 🥹✌️
a/n; SISTINENENENEEEE you absolute angel of genius. Your requests are like a breath of fresh air 😫 this actually fits so well because I can use this as a starting point for the other requests I have, which will be found out as I release them :3 mayhaps ill just make a dad!chris collection cuz lots of people wanna see him as a dad
content; breeding kink, pregnancy talk, mating press, creampies, a little bit of cum play??? I don't know if it counts but Chris is a little gross with the cum at the end
wc; 3.6k
Chris never paid much thought to his future since joining the BSAA. He had such a risky job, he learned quickly he had to just go day by day, careful, and hope to make it past another mission. That changed just a little bit when he met you. It was a cliché meeting—you were a new analyst for the lab with the BSAA, and you ran into Chris on your way in for an early morning start to the day. You literally ran into him. You weren't paying attention as you flicked through a folder in your hands, only for it to be knocked out of your hands and for you to fall back. Only for the brick wall of a man in front of you to catch you by the wrist and pull you up so you didn't fall. He steadied you easily, eyes wide. He uttered apologies as he kneeled to pick up your papers, handing them back in a messy pile. Then on, he was obsessed. He knew. He finally had the feeling of an immediate click.
Anyways. Fast forward a few years, and you're fast approaching your third marriage anniversary after getting married two years into your relationship. Everything was perfect. You had gotten a different job that kept you busy, but less stressed, he moved you into his house when you two got engaged, and now, he had you and Buddy to come home to. His loyal rescue dog and his beautiful, loving, caring wife. His world was finally all together. That's what he thought until recently.
Recently, when seeing families in public, his heart aches. Not because he's unhappy. Not because he'd ever leave you for another. But because he wants a baby. He wants to truly, 110% complete his life. Maybe two babies. Twins? One girl, one boy. Just to even out the household. But he had yet to talk to you about it. The day he planned on discussing it with you, he was called short notice for a mission.
During breakfast on his day off.
He cursed the gods and the fates, pissed off that they couldn't even wait for tomorrow. But no. He had to leave. So he went and packed with a lack of energy, already prematurely exhausted. On his way out, you stopped him with a bag of food for him.
"Here. Take this. It's not much, definitely not anything great, but it'll get you some nutrients while you're gone." You insisted.
"I'll be gone for a day, two if things don't go right." He stared at you.
"Yeah. Take the damn bag." You grabbed his hand and made him take the little bag of fruit and granola bars that would help him.
"Honey—"
"Just because you can go days without eating doesn't mean you need to. You know this." You frowned deeply.
"I know." He sighed, setting the bag down and leaning in to wrap you in his arms. You accepted the hug, letting him squeeze you and lift you off the ground, holding tight.
"Come home to me." You murmured, inhaling the smell of his bodywash and cologne as you tucked your nose against his neck.
"I always will." He breathed, closing his eyes as he set you back down, pulling away just enough to kiss you, gentle and slow. He felt terrible as he pulled away.
"If things go wrong, have someone call me. You know the drill."
"Of course. But nothing is gonna go wrong. I'll be home in a day, and I'll be back to love on my pretty lady some more." He reassured, smiling softly as he made an effort to soothe you with his cheesy flirting skills.
"Go on. You'll be late." You sighed, leaning in for one more kiss before he retracted, lifting your hand to kiss your ring finger and middle finger—where the two most important rings he ever bought laid. Your wedding ring, and the promise ring he bought you for your first year anniversary.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
The parting was always bittersweet. You knew he'd come back. The shorter missions weren't as scary for either of you. You'd always fear, but he promised. He never breaks his promises, you reminded yourself.
Two days later, Chris trudged through the door of your shared house, exhausted and dirty. He dropped his bag, kicked off his boots that had been untied since he got into his car, and made his way to find you after Buddy had come to say hello. He circled the corner of the kitchen, looked into the dark bathroom, and finally, he found you in your shared bedroom, just getting home from work, he assumed.
You turned at the sound of him, smiling widely and meeting him halfway as he opened his arms and engulfed you. You had to bite back a groan because he always smelled a little gross after missions, but he knew not to linger too long when he did.
"I missed you, I love you, but I know I need a shower, so wait for me?" He asked softly.
"I need a shower, too."
"Care to join?" He grinned.
"If I ever say no to that, I want you to take me out back and shoot me, because that ain't me."
He chuckled at your words, watching you giggle at your own joke. "Then let's go." He urged, reaching out to pat your butt before he went to undress so he could drop his dirty clothes in the hamper, stepping into the bathroom that connected to the bedroom.
You followed shortly after, joining him once he had the shower warmed well enough. Given the circumstances, Chris washed his body before anything, ensuring that he was fully clean and scrubbed before he finally moved to lather his hair with shampoo. While he did that, you went to wash your own hair. Chris didn't take very long to clean himself, so by the time you were letting your conditioner soak, he was pretty much done. So he waited patiently. He watched, admiring the way you moved like he wasn't even there. It used to get him a little hot and bothered, but now it just makes him all kinds of emotional when he thinks about the fact that you trust him so goddamn much that you can go about everything, even washing your body, like he wasn't even there. It used to be awkward for you, back when you two first started getting intimate, but not anymore.
Oh, Chris was doomed. By the end of the shared shower, Chris was plagued with all kinds of arguments in his head for why he needed to have a baby with you. Marriage, immense trust, love, etc. He had every argument in the book. Of course, if you said you didn't want to, or you weren't ready, or you'd rather adopt, he'd never force anything.
But fuck, it was getting really hard not to mention it. Later, you were preparing dinner. It was later than usual, so the sun was long gone behind the horizon, kitchen and living room curtains closed so people couldn't look in and see things. Lucky that was the routine because Chris came up behind you, hands grabbing at your hips, his own hips pressing into your backside from behind. You paid no mind, humming at the warmth as he leaned down to start mouthing softly at your neck, hands working their way under your shirt.
"Hey!" You giggled as his hands tickled your sides unintentionally, swatting his forearms.
"What? I told you I'd be back to love on my wife." He chuckled, pulling you back in—tighter this time.
"Yeah, but you don't usually.. feel so impatient." You observed, only half bothered by the behavior. "Most of the time, you'll wait til I'm not at a hot stove."
"Yeah.." he murmured. "I just couldn't wait tonight. I wanted to show you how much I missed you. Especially since our day off got interrupted." His hands squeezed, moving down to your thighs as his back pressed into you, his body bending slightly as he moved to gently nudge your legs apart. You gasped slightly, feeling him straighten up and press his hips into you from behind once more.
"Chris—" You turned your head to look up at him, but he hid his face in your neck. "What's gotten into you tonight?"
"I'm sorry." He murmured. "I know it's so sudden. I don't usually do this. I just really, really, really missed you. And I... may have recently wanted to propose an idea.." he barely mumbled, kissing against your neck as he slowly, shamelessly bucked his hips against you.
"What—mmh—what idea?" You murmured, reaching forward with a shaky hand to turn off the burner so you didn't burn the food.
"I wanna have a baby." He finally admitted.
"What?" You tensed slightly.
"I want a family. You are my family, I know, I just... I've been really wanting a kid. With you. And it's gotten really bad because that was all I could think about during my mission—coming home and making sure you'd give me a baby of our own. A kid to raise together." He soothed his hands down your back, kissing to the nape of your neck.
"Fuck, Chris, I—.." your words melted into a low moan as he sucked a faint bruise into your skin.
"Please tell me you'll give me a baby. Lemme make you a mama." He breathed.
"You just wanna have sex raw." You teased quietly.
"No. No. I want a baby. With you. I've wanted kids for so long now." Chris pulled back and flipped you around, making you look up at him. "Can we try?" He paused, watching your face. "Please?" He whispered.
"Fine. But only becau—" He cut you off with a deep kiss, making you squeal into his mouth as he hoisted you onto the counter beside the stove. You gasped when he pulled away, kissing down your neck and slowly kneeling down as he pushed your shirt up to kiss his way down, stopping to kiss at your lower belly.
"I promise you won't regret it." He muttered.
"At least take me to the bedroom, you dog." You pushed his head back to stop him from advancing. "There's food on the stove, dummy."
"Sorry." He frowned, a little embarrassed at his own lack of awareness, but listened within seconds. In the blink of an eye, you're in the bedroom, being laid delicately on the bed and Chris is already discarding your sweats, throwing them to the end of the bed as he settled his head between your legs to kiss softly at your thighs.
"Chris," you breathed, a hand reaching down to lay on his head as he worked his way up and stopped just short of your core. He looked up at you, ensuring you were still on board. You nodded, a little desperate given his proximity. He pulled your panties aside and kissed your clit, taking the little nub into his mouth, suckling softly.
You mewled, brows furrowing as your thighs twitched. Two fingers prodded at your entrance, inserting slowly as he worked you up with his mouth. His tongue lapped at your clit, forming a point and flicking back and forth before sucking harshly. He pumped two fingers back and forth, curling upward to press deliciously into your g-spot. You moaned louder, back arching. Your hips ground upward into his touch, body already shaking. He looked up at you, eyes glassy from not blinking. Your head fell back, a longer, louder moan leaving you.
"Chris, fuck—fuck!" You gasped, grasping at his short hair as he worked desperately to get you as close as possible, while also working you open with his fingers so you could take his cock. Soon, he added a third finger, just barely stretching you enough.
"Chris, please, don't stop," you panted, brows knitting tighter together.
He stopped. Well, came to a gradual stop. His fingers eased, his mouth became gentle. You gave a low whine when his fingers pulled back, and he lifted his head. "Don't worry, I'll give you more than enough tonight." He mumbled, kissing his way back up to you, pushing your shirt up to let your breasts free. He was so glad you never wore a bra at home. Made it much easier to grab and squeeze, like he was doing now. He palmed both breasts roughly, kneading the flesh as his lips found yours, slow and rough.
He shuffled himself around slightly before his hips pressed against yours, making you squeak slightly as his clothed length pressed against your sopping pussy. His hands came down to spread your legs wider, pushing them upward to where your knees pressed to either side of your chest. You felt so exposed—he had never put you in such a vulnerable position in bed. You looked up at him as he pulled back to breath, huffing softly as he pressed his forehead to yours.
Once your legs remained in position for the time being, he reached down, undoing his pants and pushing them down with his boxers. He shifted until he could kick the fabric away, pressing in closer. He was practically suffocating you in the best, most attractive way you'd ever thought of. He lined himself up and brought both hands back to the underside of your knees, keeping you in place as his tip nudged its way in, eliciting a soft whimper from you and a shaky moan from him.
"Fuck. God, you feel so good." He hissed slightly, letting your walls relax before he pressed in further. A choked sound left you, back arching slightly.
"S-slow, Chris.." you whined. "'S too big." You looked up at him, and he chuckled softly.
"It's okay. I know, sweetheart, but it gets really hard to control myself when I know I'm about to fuck you full 'til I can't anymore." His dirty words made your walls flutter, and he relished in the sensation, head falling forward. You relaxed once more, and he pressed firmly into you, bottoming out deliciously with a deep, guttural growl, mingling nicely with your cry of pleasure.
"Oh, god," your voice shook, eyes closing as your walls fluttered around his girth.
"You're already taking me so perfectly." He purred, head dipping to nudge against your neck, kissing softly at your shoulder. "Made for me, to take my cock." His lips trailed down, finding your collarbone. "You ready, sweetheart?" He nipped at your skin, making you groan faintly.
"Uh-huh." You exhaled, eyes blinking at him as he pushed himself up a little, only to drop more weight into you from his upper body. His hips lifted, heavy cock dragging out until it was just his tip, the weight of his hips dropping back in. A loud moan fell from your lips, head falling back as your hands came to clutch tightly at Chris' shoulders.
He started slow, his heavy breathing and groans muffled by your neck as he nipped and kissed and kept his noises as minimal as possible so he could hear you and the messy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass, the lewd squlech of his cock bottoming out inside of you with every thrust. Your moans only got louder as his thrusts more insistent—insistent in the way that he felt desperate to make himself finish. Selfishly, he knew it, but he just had to give you enough. He had to make sure it took the first time, knowing how impossibly impatient he is.
Gradually, he increased the roughness first, giving slow, impossibly deep thrusts, each kiss of his tip to your cervix eliciting a squeak from you as you bit your lip, clinging onto him with your nails digging into his back over the fabric of his shirt. His own eyes rolled back, visible to no one thanks to his position of his head tucked away. Chris halted only momentarily, his knees pushing upward to hold a position so you, nor him, could shift away or squirm. Once his knees were set, he resumed, faster.
"Oh—hoo-oh fuck!" You cried out, eyes rolling back and chest heaving with heavy breaths as you felt him bring one hand down, hovering between your thighs before his thumb found your clit. You twitched, body stuck between choosing melting and tensing, just a little overwhelmed by the intense fucking combined with the precise, rough circles of his thumb massaging your clit.
"Come on, sweetheart, 'm right there with you." He huffed, lifting his head just enough to find your lips in a messy, hardly coordinated kiss. "Cum on my cock for me. Give it to me." He barely mumbled, holding onto your thigh with his other hand tightly before he felt your body lock up momentarily, mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. The silence from you fell into a series of squeaks and moans as he fucked you through your high, chasing his own easily. He truly was right there because just as yours eased, his was already filling you, thick spurts of his load spilling right up against your cervix as he stayed buried balls deep inside of you. Much to your surprise, he pushed through his own oversensitivity, and he was already moving to start up another round.
You gasped, hands coming to his front. One hand pressed to his chest, the other falling downward to grab his wrist as he resumed the movement of his thumb. You stifled a cry, brows furrowing as he strummed roughly against the puffy bundle of nerves.
"Ha-aah! God, wait, l-let me—"
"Mm-mm." He shook his head, looking down at you. "'M not done. Gotta make sure it takes tonight."
"Can't you—ah! Chris!" Your back arched, nails digging in at his wrist and chest where your hands clutched tightly, eyes rolling back as his hips rolled into you, your thighs trembling.
"'S okay," he leaned down to mouth at your jawline. "You can take it. You know you want to. I can—mmh—I can feel you, sweetheart. Feel you squeezin' my cock like you'll die without it." He mumbled roughly against your skin, thrusts adjusting to where his hips lifted fully out, slamming all the way back in. You cried out with every thrust, his fingers still working tirelessly at your clit.
Your thoughts turned to mush, ears filled with the filthy sounds of skin slapping, grunts and groans, moans and mewls, lewd squelching, and sounds of wetness from your mixing fluids. "Chris," you whimpered, eyes rolling and then falling shut, moans being pushed out of you with every smack of his pelvis against yours.
"You're so good for me." He panted, breath hot against your neck and collarbone as he lazily kissed and licked all along your exposed skin like it would help the cause. "So sweet. So willing. So fuckin perfect." His groan melted into a whimper, a vulnerable sound that made you melt. Your pussy squeezed, and he gasped slightly. "Fuck, you gonna cum again? You like it when I say that stuff?" He gave a raspy chuckle, looking down at you as you nodded, lips squeezing shut to try and muffle your own sounds. "Say it, sweetheart. Tell me what you like."
"Fuck, you kn-know I like it." You stammered, breath catching as he pinched your clit lightly, just a tease for you to spill what he wanted to hear. "Yes, yes! Yes, I love i-it, Chris. Love it when you praise me." You whimpered, hands coming up again to find his shoulders, tugging him down so you could hold onto him. With his arms hooking under your knees, he wrapped his arms around you from above, lifted your hips a little, and doubled his pace.
"Good God, how'd I get so fucking lucky?" He panted, arms squeezing around you. You cried out, head falling back. "Cum for me. Please. Just one more time. 'S all I need, baby." He pleaded softly, hips angling a touch lower so he could properly hit your g-spot every time his hips thrusted back and forth.
"C-cumm—inngh!"
You fell apart within seconds, body locking and twitching in his hold as his own load spilled into you again, weaker than the last, but lasting longer as he worked desperately to get every last drop out. He didn't stop until your walls stopped their quivering, until he felt your breathing become more even.
When he finally did pull out, his body pulling away and letting yours fall limp on the mattress, he pulled all the way back and watched the cum seep out. The sight alone could've triggered a third round, but he settled for now. He could see you were too tired, too sensitive. He reached out, two finger scooping the cum upward and pushing it back in with a lewd squelching sound, making you stifle a cry of embarrassment as you moved to hide your face and close your legs. You felt him use his fingers to try and push it all as high as possible. He knew it wasn't necessary—he wasn't stupid—but the sight and sensation of his cum, finally, being deep inside his gorgeous wife, it just made him feel a new kind of satisfaction. When you reached down to push his hand away, he listened, using his mouth to clean his fingers before he pulled you to sit up in his lap. He held you gently, playing with your hair and rubbing your hips as he kissed your neck and shoulders.
"Mmh," he exhaled slowly. "Can't wait to make you a mama." He squeezed tighter, inhaling your scent and relaxing.
You gave a sleepy giggle, leaning all the way into him, eyes closed. "I think we'll make good parents."
"Long as you stay, it'll be okay." He whispered. "I just need you."
Soooooooo…. Here recently I’ve been thinking a lot about Chris as I usually do. But moreso I was thinking about how maybe he’d crave just a little bit of normalcy in his life. He sees his colleagues and their families, and hears about them all the time. Sure, he’s got a wife that he loves, but there’s just one thing he’s missing…
A kid to call his own.
I’d imagine Chris has always been good with kids. With having to take Claire under his wing after their mother died and seeing how he treated Rose so tenderly, I can see a piece of him wanting to have a baby.
So one night he comes home after a mission, and he just cannot keep his hands off of his precious, beautiful wife. She asks him, “what’s gotten into you?” Between gasps and giggles. Chris can’t help but pull back and start talking about how badly he wants to have a baby with her. And… Breeding kink ensues! Mating press, dirty talk, you know… All that fun stuff!!
Sorry this isn’t as fleshed out as my past requests. I have been thinking about this for waaaaaay too long. 🥹✌️
a/n; SISTINENENENEEEE you absolute angel of genius. Your requests are like a breath of fresh air 😫 this actually fits so well because I can use this as a starting point for the other requests I have, which will be found out as I release them :3 mayhaps ill just make a dad!chris collection cuz lots of people wanna see him as a dad
content; breeding kink, pregnancy talk, mating press, creampies, a little bit of cum play??? I don't know if it counts but Chris is a little gross with the cum at the end
wc; 3.6k
Chris never paid much thought to his future since joining the BSAA. He had such a risky job, he learned quickly he had to just go day by day, careful, and hope to make it past another mission. That changed just a little bit when he met you. It was a cliché meeting—you were a new analyst for the lab with the BSAA, and you ran into Chris on your way in for an early morning start to the day. You literally ran into him. You weren't paying attention as you flicked through a folder in your hands, only for it to be knocked out of your hands and for you to fall back. Only for the brick wall of a man in front of you to catch you by the wrist and pull you up so you didn't fall. He steadied you easily, eyes wide. He uttered apologies as he kneeled to pick up your papers, handing them back in a messy pile. Then on, he was obsessed. He knew. He finally had the feeling of an immediate click.
Anyways. Fast forward a few years, and you're fast approaching your third marriage anniversary after getting married two years into your relationship. Everything was perfect. You had gotten a different job that kept you busy, but less stressed, he moved you into his house when you two got engaged, and now, he had you and Buddy to come home to. His loyal rescue dog and his beautiful, loving, caring wife. His world was finally all together. That's what he thought until recently.
Recently, when seeing families in public, his heart aches. Not because he's unhappy. Not because he'd ever leave you for another. But because he wants a baby. He wants to truly, 110% complete his life. Maybe two babies. Twins? One girl, one boy. Just to even out the household. But he had yet to talk to you about it. The day he planned on discussing it with you, he was called short notice for a mission.
During breakfast on his day off.
He cursed the gods and the fates, pissed off that they couldn't even wait for tomorrow. But no. He had to leave. So he went and packed with a lack of energy, already prematurely exhausted. On his way out, you stopped him with a bag of food for him.
"Here. Take this. It's not much, definitely not anything great, but it'll get you some nutrients while you're gone." You insisted.
"I'll be gone for a day, two if things don't go right." He stared at you.
"Yeah. Take the damn bag." You grabbed his hand and made him take the little bag of fruit and granola bars that would help him.
"Honey—"
"Just because you can go days without eating doesn't mean you need to. You know this." You frowned deeply.
"I know." He sighed, setting the bag down and leaning in to wrap you in his arms. You accepted the hug, letting him squeeze you and lift you off the ground, holding tight.
"Come home to me." You murmured, inhaling the smell of his bodywash and cologne as you tucked your nose against his neck.
"I always will." He breathed, closing his eyes as he set you back down, pulling away just enough to kiss you, gentle and slow. He felt terrible as he pulled away.
"If things go wrong, have someone call me. You know the drill."
"Of course. But nothing is gonna go wrong. I'll be home in a day, and I'll be back to love on my pretty lady some more." He reassured, smiling softly as he made an effort to soothe you with his cheesy flirting skills.
"Go on. You'll be late." You sighed, leaning in for one more kiss before he retracted, lifting your hand to kiss your ring finger and middle finger—where the two most important rings he ever bought laid. Your wedding ring, and the promise ring he bought you for your first year anniversary.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
The parting was always bittersweet. You knew he'd come back. The shorter missions weren't as scary for either of you. You'd always fear, but he promised. He never breaks his promises, you reminded yourself.
Two days later, Chris trudged through the door of your shared house, exhausted and dirty. He dropped his bag, kicked off his boots that had been untied since he got into his car, and made his way to find you after Buddy had come to say hello. He circled the corner of the kitchen, looked into the dark bathroom, and finally, he found you in your shared bedroom, just getting home from work, he assumed.
You turned at the sound of him, smiling widely and meeting him halfway as he opened his arms and engulfed you. You had to bite back a groan because he always smelled a little gross after missions, but he knew not to linger too long when he did.
"I missed you, I love you, but I know I need a shower, so wait for me?" He asked softly.
"I need a shower, too."
"Care to join?" He grinned.
"If I ever say no to that, I want you to take me out back and shoot me, because that ain't me."
He chuckled at your words, watching you giggle at your own joke. "Then let's go." He urged, reaching out to pat your butt before he went to undress so he could drop his dirty clothes in the hamper, stepping into the bathroom that connected to the bedroom.
You followed shortly after, joining him once he had the shower warmed well enough. Given the circumstances, Chris washed his body before anything, ensuring that he was fully clean and scrubbed before he finally moved to lather his hair with shampoo. While he did that, you went to wash your own hair. Chris didn't take very long to clean himself, so by the time you were letting your conditioner soak, he was pretty much done. So he waited patiently. He watched, admiring the way you moved like he wasn't even there. It used to get him a little hot and bothered, but now it just makes him all kinds of emotional when he thinks about the fact that you trust him so goddamn much that you can go about everything, even washing your body, like he wasn't even there. It used to be awkward for you, back when you two first started getting intimate, but not anymore.
Oh, Chris was doomed. By the end of the shared shower, Chris was plagued with all kinds of arguments in his head for why he needed to have a baby with you. Marriage, immense trust, love, etc. He had every argument in the book. Of course, if you said you didn't want to, or you weren't ready, or you'd rather adopt, he'd never force anything.
But fuck, it was getting really hard not to mention it. Later, you were preparing dinner. It was later than usual, so the sun was long gone behind the horizon, kitchen and living room curtains closed so people couldn't look in and see things. Lucky that was the routine because Chris came up behind you, hands grabbing at your hips, his own hips pressing into your backside from behind. You paid no mind, humming at the warmth as he leaned down to start mouthing softly at your neck, hands working their way under your shirt.
"Hey!" You giggled as his hands tickled your sides unintentionally, swatting his forearms.
"What? I told you I'd be back to love on my wife." He chuckled, pulling you back in—tighter this time.
"Yeah, but you don't usually.. feel so impatient." You observed, only half bothered by the behavior. "Most of the time, you'll wait til I'm not at a hot stove."
"Yeah.." he murmured. "I just couldn't wait tonight. I wanted to show you how much I missed you. Especially since our day off got interrupted." His hands squeezed, moving down to your thighs as his back pressed into you, his body bending slightly as he moved to gently nudge your legs apart. You gasped slightly, feeling him straighten up and press his hips into you from behind once more.
"Chris—" You turned your head to look up at him, but he hid his face in your neck. "What's gotten into you tonight?"
"I'm sorry." He murmured. "I know it's so sudden. I don't usually do this. I just really, really, really missed you. And I... may have recently wanted to propose an idea.." he barely mumbled, kissing against your neck as he slowly, shamelessly bucked his hips against you.
"What—mmh—what idea?" You murmured, reaching forward with a shaky hand to turn off the burner so you didn't burn the food.
"I wanna have a baby." He finally admitted.
"What?" You tensed slightly.
"I want a family. You are my family, I know, I just... I've been really wanting a kid. With you. And it's gotten really bad because that was all I could think about during my mission—coming home and making sure you'd give me a baby of our own. A kid to raise together." He soothed his hands down your back, kissing to the nape of your neck.
"Fuck, Chris, I—.." your words melted into a low moan as he sucked a faint bruise into your skin.
"Please tell me you'll give me a baby. Lemme make you a mama." He breathed.
"You just wanna have sex raw." You teased quietly.
"No. No. I want a baby. With you. I've wanted kids for so long now." Chris pulled back and flipped you around, making you look up at him. "Can we try?" He paused, watching your face. "Please?" He whispered.
"Fine. But only becau—" He cut you off with a deep kiss, making you squeal into his mouth as he hoisted you onto the counter beside the stove. You gasped when he pulled away, kissing down your neck and slowly kneeling down as he pushed your shirt up to kiss his way down, stopping to kiss at your lower belly.
"I promise you won't regret it." He muttered.
"At least take me to the bedroom, you dog." You pushed his head back to stop him from advancing. "There's food on the stove, dummy."
"Sorry." He frowned, a little embarrassed at his own lack of awareness, but listened within seconds. In the blink of an eye, you're in the bedroom, being laid delicately on the bed and Chris is already discarding your sweats, throwing them to the end of the bed as he settled his head between your legs to kiss softly at your thighs.
"Chris," you breathed, a hand reaching down to lay on his head as he worked his way up and stopped just short of your core. He looked up at you, ensuring you were still on board. You nodded, a little desperate given his proximity. He pulled your panties aside and kissed your clit, taking the little nub into his mouth, suckling softly.
You mewled, brows furrowing as your thighs twitched. Two fingers prodded at your entrance, inserting slowly as he worked you up with his mouth. His tongue lapped at your clit, forming a point and flicking back and forth before sucking harshly. He pumped two fingers back and forth, curling upward to press deliciously into your g-spot. You moaned louder, back arching. Your hips ground upward into his touch, body already shaking. He looked up at you, eyes glassy from not blinking. Your head fell back, a longer, louder moan leaving you.
"Chris, fuck—fuck!" You gasped, grasping at his short hair as he worked desperately to get you as close as possible, while also working you open with his fingers so you could take his cock. Soon, he added a third finger, just barely stretching you enough.
"Chris, please, don't stop," you panted, brows knitting tighter together.
He stopped. Well, came to a gradual stop. His fingers eased, his mouth became gentle. You gave a low whine when his fingers pulled back, and he lifted his head. "Don't worry, I'll give you more than enough tonight." He mumbled, kissing his way back up to you, pushing your shirt up to let your breasts free. He was so glad you never wore a bra at home. Made it much easier to grab and squeeze, like he was doing now. He palmed both breasts roughly, kneading the flesh as his lips found yours, slow and rough.
He shuffled himself around slightly before his hips pressed against yours, making you squeak slightly as his clothed length pressed against your sopping pussy. His hands came down to spread your legs wider, pushing them upward to where your knees pressed to either side of your chest. You felt so exposed—he had never put you in such a vulnerable position in bed. You looked up at him as he pulled back to breath, huffing softly as he pressed his forehead to yours.
Once your legs remained in position for the time being, he reached down, undoing his pants and pushing them down with his boxers. He shifted until he could kick the fabric away, pressing in closer. He was practically suffocating you in the best, most attractive way you'd ever thought of. He lined himself up and brought both hands back to the underside of your knees, keeping you in place as his tip nudged its way in, eliciting a soft whimper from you and a shaky moan from him.
"Fuck. God, you feel so good." He hissed slightly, letting your walls relax before he pressed in further. A choked sound left you, back arching slightly.
"S-slow, Chris.." you whined. "'S too big." You looked up at him, and he chuckled softly.
"It's okay. I know, sweetheart, but it gets really hard to control myself when I know I'm about to fuck you full 'til I can't anymore." His dirty words made your walls flutter, and he relished in the sensation, head falling forward. You relaxed once more, and he pressed firmly into you, bottoming out deliciously with a deep, guttural growl, mingling nicely with your cry of pleasure.
"Oh, god," your voice shook, eyes closing as your walls fluttered around his girth.
"You're already taking me so perfectly." He purred, head dipping to nudge against your neck, kissing softly at your shoulder. "Made for me, to take my cock." His lips trailed down, finding your collarbone. "You ready, sweetheart?" He nipped at your skin, making you groan faintly.
"Uh-huh." You exhaled, eyes blinking at him as he pushed himself up a little, only to drop more weight into you from his upper body. His hips lifted, heavy cock dragging out until it was just his tip, the weight of his hips dropping back in. A loud moan fell from your lips, head falling back as your hands came to clutch tightly at Chris' shoulders.
He started slow, his heavy breathing and groans muffled by your neck as he nipped and kissed and kept his noises as minimal as possible so he could hear you and the messy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass, the lewd squlech of his cock bottoming out inside of you with every thrust. Your moans only got louder as his thrusts more insistent—insistent in the way that he felt desperate to make himself finish. Selfishly, he knew it, but he just had to give you enough. He had to make sure it took the first time, knowing how impossibly impatient he is.
Gradually, he increased the roughness first, giving slow, impossibly deep thrusts, each kiss of his tip to your cervix eliciting a squeak from you as you bit your lip, clinging onto him with your nails digging into his back over the fabric of his shirt. His own eyes rolled back, visible to no one thanks to his position of his head tucked away. Chris halted only momentarily, his knees pushing upward to hold a position so you, nor him, could shift away or squirm. Once his knees were set, he resumed, faster.
"Oh—hoo-oh fuck!" You cried out, eyes rolling back and chest heaving with heavy breaths as you felt him bring one hand down, hovering between your thighs before his thumb found your clit. You twitched, body stuck between choosing melting and tensing, just a little overwhelmed by the intense fucking combined with the precise, rough circles of his thumb massaging your clit.
"Come on, sweetheart, 'm right there with you." He huffed, lifting his head just enough to find your lips in a messy, hardly coordinated kiss. "Cum on my cock for me. Give it to me." He barely mumbled, holding onto your thigh with his other hand tightly before he felt your body lock up momentarily, mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. The silence from you fell into a series of squeaks and moans as he fucked you through your high, chasing his own easily. He truly was right there because just as yours eased, his was already filling you, thick spurts of his load spilling right up against your cervix as he stayed buried balls deep inside of you. Much to your surprise, he pushed through his own oversensitivity, and he was already moving to start up another round.
You gasped, hands coming to his front. One hand pressed to his chest, the other falling downward to grab his wrist as he resumed the movement of his thumb. You stifled a cry, brows furrowing as he strummed roughly against the puffy bundle of nerves.
"Ha-aah! God, wait, l-let me—"
"Mm-mm." He shook his head, looking down at you. "'M not done. Gotta make sure it takes tonight."
"Can't you—ah! Chris!" Your back arched, nails digging in at his wrist and chest where your hands clutched tightly, eyes rolling back as his hips rolled into you, your thighs trembling.
"'S okay," he leaned down to mouth at your jawline. "You can take it. You know you want to. I can—mmh—I can feel you, sweetheart. Feel you squeezin' my cock like you'll die without it." He mumbled roughly against your skin, thrusts adjusting to where his hips lifted fully out, slamming all the way back in. You cried out with every thrust, his fingers still working tirelessly at your clit.
Your thoughts turned to mush, ears filled with the filthy sounds of skin slapping, grunts and groans, moans and mewls, lewd squelching, and sounds of wetness from your mixing fluids. "Chris," you whimpered, eyes rolling and then falling shut, moans being pushed out of you with every smack of his pelvis against yours.
"You're so good for me." He panted, breath hot against your neck and collarbone as he lazily kissed and licked all along your exposed skin like it would help the cause. "So sweet. So willing. So fuckin perfect." His groan melted into a whimper, a vulnerable sound that made you melt. Your pussy squeezed, and he gasped slightly. "Fuck, you gonna cum again? You like it when I say that stuff?" He gave a raspy chuckle, looking down at you as you nodded, lips squeezing shut to try and muffle your own sounds. "Say it, sweetheart. Tell me what you like."
"Fuck, you kn-know I like it." You stammered, breath catching as he pinched your clit lightly, just a tease for you to spill what he wanted to hear. "Yes, yes! Yes, I love i-it, Chris. Love it when you praise me." You whimpered, hands coming up again to find his shoulders, tugging him down so you could hold onto him. With his arms hooking under your knees, he wrapped his arms around you from above, lifted your hips a little, and doubled his pace.
"Good God, how'd I get so fucking lucky?" He panted, arms squeezing around you. You cried out, head falling back. "Cum for me. Please. Just one more time. 'S all I need, baby." He pleaded softly, hips angling a touch lower so he could properly hit your g-spot every time his hips thrusted back and forth.
"C-cumm—inngh!"
You fell apart within seconds, body locking and twitching in his hold as his own load spilled into you again, weaker than the last, but lasting longer as he worked desperately to get every last drop out. He didn't stop until your walls stopped their quivering, until he felt your breathing become more even.
When he finally did pull out, his body pulling away and letting yours fall limp on the mattress, he pulled all the way back and watched the cum seep out. The sight alone could've triggered a third round, but he settled for now. He could see you were too tired, too sensitive. He reached out, two finger scooping the cum upward and pushing it back in with a lewd squelching sound, making you stifle a cry of embarrassment as you moved to hide your face and close your legs. You felt him use his fingers to try and push it all as high as possible. He knew it wasn't necessary—he wasn't stupid—but the sight and sensation of his cum, finally, being deep inside his gorgeous wife, it just made him feel a new kind of satisfaction. When you reached down to push his hand away, he listened, using his mouth to clean his fingers before he pulled you to sit up in his lap. He held you gently, playing with your hair and rubbing your hips as he kissed your neck and shoulders.
"Mmh," he exhaled slowly. "Can't wait to make you a mama." He squeezed tighter, inhaling your scent and relaxing.
You gave a sleepy giggle, leaning all the way into him, eyes closed. "I think we'll make good parents."
"Long as you stay, it'll be okay." He whispered. "I just need you."
simon riley who discovered a new passion for coffee lately. curious because he always preferred tea, it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that the bartender is really cute, right ?
it started few weeks ago when he came back from deployment, he was on his way to the gym when he noticed this new coffee shop, that he believes opened when he was away.
simon always had a sweet tooth, he naturally stopped to admire the numerous pastries in front of him, all of them seeming as delicious as the others. he spent a few minutes in front of the display, wondering which one he should get.
that’s when he saw you, as sweet as the pastries, you were wearing the coffee shop’s uniform and chatting with a client.
he entered the shop, standing in the line and repeating his order in his head to not mess it up. when the client before him noticed a giant man waiting behind them, they excused themselves and as they left your eyes landed on him.
"hello sir, what can i get for you ?" simon gulped at the charming sound of your voice.
"coffee."
"iced or hot?"
he sized you up quickly. "hot."
he mentally cursed himself as you went to prepare his order, cringing at his own behavior. he didn’t only messed up what he wanted, he also managed to act like a prick, not even saying please or thank you.
he watched you intently make his coffee, humming to yourself with a lazy smile, simon shamelessely observed.
his heart was beating fast as he left the shop, his eyes landing on the hot cup in his hands. now what was he thinking ordering a hot coffee in summer ? he reluctantly sipped it, wincing at the bitterness. this reminded simon why he didn’t like coffee in the first place.
When you are ovulating, Simon’s cock weeps from overstimulation, but he never complains.
You’ve been riding him for who knows how long, and he’s on his… actually he can’t even remember how many times he’s cum. You’re feral, truly feral, bouncing up and down his length, sitting down fully until his tip is pressed against your cervix and leaking precum. Grinding down on him, your hands fall to his chest, digging your nails into his skin to steady yourself as he writhes beneath you.
He’s a whimpering, whining mess, cursing under his breath, with his eyes rolling to the back of his head when your pussy clenches down on his length. Every time your ass slaps against his thighs a breath of air is knocked from his lungs, leaving him gasping and clutching the bunched-up sheets around his limp body.
“C-can’t take anymore l-lovie,” he stutters, placing both hands on your hips, but instead of moving you away, his own hips buck up just to feel more of your warm, wet walls around his aching cock.
His mouth hangs open as drool drips from his chin, his eyes half-lidded while he watches your breasts bounce directly in front of his face, and he can’t help but suck one nipple into his mouth to bite down and relieve some of the unbearable pleasure. You moan out, your fingers moving to tangle in the hair at his nape, pulling harshly on the strands before pushing your chest out for him by arching your back.
“One more Si, p-please… need it, need your c-cum,” you beg, gazing down at him with fucked out eyes, obscene moans flooding his ears each time his cock knocks against your cervix.
Your knees dig into the mattress on either side of him, caging his body underneath yours while you ride him as if your life depends on it. Skin slaps against skin, the sounds sharp and loud, the headboard bangs against the wall, sure to leave a dent or scrape the paint, not that either of you care. The smell of sex hangs in the air so thick you can taste it, musky from the salty sweat beading across the two bodies that move together in tandem.
“So g-good,” you praise, bouncing harder, faster, pushing him deeper inside of you while your walls suck him in, and clench down as if your pussy never wants him to leave.
The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up to the brim, leaving no parts of you empty for too long. He sucks, bites, licks on your nipple, letting it peak between his lips before moving off with a pop and focusing on the other. One of his hands slides from your hip, finding your clit with ease to rub tight, quick circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves instead.
You cry out in pleasure, sinking down fast to grind against his fingers before lifting up once more. With the added stimulation, your body grows weaker the closer and closer you reach your climax, and you beg him to help you.
“C’mon lovie… I g-got you,” he says, planting both feet on the bed behind you, and steadying you on top of him before he begins to pound into you from below.
His balls clap against your ass, sensitive and empty, and he whimpers every time. You slump against his chest, your nipples dragging across his rough skin, his fingers still working your clit, and you’re walking the edge of your orgasm faster than you would like.
“C-close… I’m so…”
He thrusts in deep and hard, knocking the air from your lungs, cutting off your words as a sharp gasp rips from your throat when his tip nudges against your sweet spot. Stars burst behind your eyelids, the sheer ecstasy rushing through your body is enough to have you cumming on his long, thick cock.
“That’s it. Cum on m-me,” he encourages, eager to feel you come undone, his cock crying out for him as it bullies your insides and bruises your cervix.
Your muscles draw taut, your body becoming rigid as pleasure consumes your entire being. Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out around his length for the umpteenth time tonight, dripping from his skin and pooling onto the already wet sheets below. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight and pulses rhythmically around him.
He fucks you through your high, drawing it out as long as possible before giving himself the same release, his fingers only letting up on your swollen clit when your body begins to jerk and twitch from his overstimulating touch.
“Shit- gonna f-fill you up again lovie.”
With a few more thrusts he’s burying himself to the hilt and releases his seed deep inside of you. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, leaking out from his tip against your cervix, coating your walls and dripping out when there is no more room left inside of your raw walls. Your belly tingles from the sensation, your skin burning from his touch, your body weak on top of his as his thrusts slow and he collapses onto the pillows again.
Simon’s chest heaves against yours while he tries to catch his breath, his heart pounding in your ear as he comes down from his intense high. You do your best to recover too, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps, the sound of your blood whooshing past your ears louder than any of the lingering whimpers and whines from stimulated sensitive body parts, your legs and arms trembling from the prolonged activity, it is all too much and not enough at the same time.
His cock continues to twitch inside of you, the mess continues to pool underneath you, and knowing you, you still would want more.
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Notes: Thought of Vendetta Leon, but could fit any older Leon really.
Warnings: I'm sorry if this isn't very accurate or really hits home for some people. Seriously, if you're not comfortable with this topic, feel free to scroll. I don't wanna make anyone feel bad. I don't have any first-hand experience with this subject. I just did some research and focused on what we've seen of Leon struggling.
Warnings 2: alcohol, drunkenness, angst, implied suicidal thoughts, suggestive sexual things (nothing explicit),
You love Leon. You really do. And that's what is breaking your heart ten times over. When you married Leon, you knew he drank, but at the time, it wasn't his vice. It wasn't for hours on end to cope with his missions.
Maybe you romanticized it. 'Give me the broken man. I'll love and fix him. He's just misunderstood and needs a woman's touch.' Maybe you're the problem. Maybe you're just as much at fault.
You'd let it slide in the beginning because you were scared, and truthfully, you couldn't blame him. You'd seen the empty stares, bloody cuts, and bruised skin. He'd experienced indescribable physical pain and emotional turmoil. Though he'd never say it, you had a feeling he was drinking because his heart was shattered.
Your husband has a big, bleeding heart. Always has. Leon loves people and constantly puts them before himself. He's a hero in your eyes even if he'll never believe it. But he's tired and worn.
You didn't know how to help him. You couldn't be his ride when he was drunk or drag him to the nearest toilet when he had to puke for the rest of your life. It was a bandaid on a bullet wound.
A part of you loved taking care of him. Loved being his crutch, especially when he'd snuggle into you, laying kisses and praises on your skin. But this can't go on forever. You were becoming so tired.
So, you did the research. Instead of searching for hangover remedies, you looked up when to seek out rehab, or is Alcoholics Anonymous a good choice? It was stressful and on top of that you were doing it by yourself. You were still too afraid to mention it to Leon.
You didn't want to become the enemy. You saw how much he loved the alcohol and you weren't addicted to it like him, but you know how addictions go. It's a coping mechanism, and most people will defend it with their lives because its the only thing getting them by, at least in their eyes, or maybe they just become so great at lying to themselves.
For once, he seemed pretty sober. A bit hungover but more himself than he has been in ages. Your heart beat out of your chest, ached so horrendously, you caught yourself rubbing over it as if that'd soothe it. This was the best time to have the conversation.
You sat down across from him at the kitchen table. Its wooden surface is covered with a floral cover and a black runner. It was your attempt at being fancy, and you weren't sure if it was working. But that's neither here nor there. You grip your coffee mug tight and watch your husband eat his cereal.
His thick hair is a mess, strands of it poking up at odd angles. He's wearing a band tee you bought him when you two went to a music festival a few years back. It's all wrinkly, and you're sure he's wearing his jet-black sweatpants under the table. You watch in silence for a good while because apparently you're a procrastinator now.
But he's just so cute and the love of your life. And you don't wanna ruin anything or make him mad. Plus, is his drinking really that bad? I mean, at least he's high functioning. Maybe less of a filter on his mouth and a little more attitude. But still himself, for the most part and non-violent, unlike most drunks. You worry your bottom lip while excuses fill your head.
"You okay?" Your husband is looking up at you, dreamy blue eyes blinking. Voice raspy and holding a spoon with sugary cereal on it halfway to his mouth.
"What?" You stutter, confused by the concern shining in his baby blues.
"You're crying," he explains before dropping his spoon back in the cereal bowl. His shoulders widen, and he sits up. It looks like he's ready to go to war at your say-so. It's so dang endearing that it hurts.
"Oh." You laugh it off, swiping at your eyes. "I didn't even realize." Can't even start an uncomfortable conversation without crying. Wow, that's just great and totally not embarrassing.
Leon sighs before pushing his chair back and coming around to you. There's a screeching noise. Then, bare feet hitting the hardwood floor. A hand cups your cheek, and a calloused thumb wipes away another tear. "You didn't answer my question." His voice is soft and low. "Are you okay?"
"No," you pout, chin wobbling. Your hands fidget in your lap, turning to face him completely and abandoning your mug to the table. You can't meet his eyes, not with the way his are burrowing into you. "I wanna help you and don't know how."
His hand slips away, maybe he already knows where this is going. "What do you mean?" Leon clears his throat and crosses his muscular arms. Suddenly, he looks very uncomfortable, and his brows are furrowed.
"I - I mean that I love you." You awkwardly fumble, even gesturing subtly with your hands. "I just wanna help." Here it goes. "You've just been drinking a lot, and I thought maybe you didn't want to anymore. And if that's the case, I can help. We could get professional help."
You ramble as the mood in the room shifts. His shoulders are tense, and his nails are digging into his arms. You try to look at anything but him and yet still catch it. "There's so many options really, and we have the money. The right insurance. There's AA or rehab. Really nice private rehab facilities or a professional that can stick with you and . . ."
"Stop, stop, stop." He waves his hands at you, still standing over you while you sink into the kitchen chair. You just feel like a child that was scolded because you stepped out of a line or a puppy that was chastised for peeing on the carpet. "You think I need help? Some kind of intervention?"
He doesn't sound like an enraged, violent drunk or anything. But he does sound disbelieving and irritated. "Well," you flop your hands uselessly. "It's been a lot lately, Leon. Almost always drunk when not on a mission, and it gets old cleaning up vomit." You laugh lightly, hoping he'll agree, and things won't escalate.
"Oh, so this is about you and your comfort." He nearly growls, now having an excuse to be angry with you.
Your eyes widen, and your jaw hangs open. "That isn't what I said."
He shrugs, making you feel like a child again. That you apparently don't know what you're talking about. "It sure sounded like it to me. You don't wanna clean up after me. And I'm becoming too much." He puts 'too much' in air quotes. Ever a flair for the dramatic.
"Well, you don't have to clean up after me anymore. I'll deal with it myself." He turns away and starts walking. Abandoning this conversation, you, and his cereal bowl.
"Wait, Leon." You call out, rushing out of your seat and grabbing his arm. You know Leon would never hit you, but in that moment, you begin to doubt it. Because your teary eyes meet his, and all you see is red. His eyes are red-rimmed, and rage boils beneath the surface.
This is exactly what you were afraid of, and you so desperately didn't wanna lose him. "Let. Go." He grits through his teeth, glancing down at your hand clasped around his forearm. Your lips tremble, and tears run down your cheeks as you let Leon go.
You stand there, gazing helplessly as he grabs his keys and wallet before walking out the door. The front door shuts and leaves you all alone.
~☆~☆~☆~☆~
He comes back late in the night. You're already curled up in bed, hidden under blankets, holding onto a pillow, and staring at the alarm clock. You hear the front door shut and stumbling footsteps. You close your eyes, expecting your husband to come into the bedroom.
You lay still, heart beat rapid like a frightened animal. Minutes tick by, and you hear nothing. Little by little, you blink open your eyes, and fear fades into confusion. The comforter rustles as you throw your pillow to his side of the bed and set your feet on the ground.
You keep quiet and walk down the hallway to the main room, living room and kitchen connected seamlessly. All the lights are out, and you hear slight mumbling from the couch. You peek over it to find Leon laying face first, making incoherent noises in his sleep.
You frown, stomach dropping to your feet. He reeks of alcohol once more, and that conversation rings in your head for the hundredth time. He said not to clean up after him anymore. But you're already playing it out in your head.
Throw a blanket over him. Place a water and some crackers out on the coffee table for when he wakes. Make him a chicken noodle soup tomorrow and maybe force medicine into his system. It's hard to walk away. To tell yourself you didn't marry Leon to become his caretaker. Not like this anyway.
With a heavy heart and even heavier footsteps, you turn away. You leave him sleeping on the couch, no blanket, and no water for when he wakes. You leave him with nothing, and yet you leave with a guilty conscience. And you receive no sleep that night.
~☆~☆~☆~☆~
Memories hold tremendous power. They can hurt you or comfort you. Bring joy or even anger. Sometimes, one memory manifests contradictory emotions, happiness, and sadness at the same time. One day, a memory can cause you to smile, and then two years later, it'll make you cry.
Leon's given you many of those memories. Your wedding day still makes you smile. The way his eyes were brimming with tears and his hands shook. You remember that night being filled with laughter and indescribable love. Every touch was worship.
One memory is haunting you with a lot more strength than before.
It was a quiet night. You laid in bed, dressed in Leon's shirt and short shorts. A book open before you and headphones on your head. Your favorite songs kept you company, and a golden glow from the lamp gave a warm atmosphere.
Leon was away on a mission, and you didn't have many details as per usual. But I guess the universe decided it was time. Because you felt a presence in the doorway. The headphones come off in a slight panic.
Your man looks like he just returned from war. Broken, haunted, and terrified. In an instant, your book is closed, and you're walking towards him. "Leon, what's wrong? What do you need?" You keep your voice low and gentle. Your brows are furrowed in obvious concern. He's your number one priority. All that matters now is making sure he's okay.
He takes one step forward and collapses in your arms. You gasp at the sudden weight bearing down on you, arms stretched out to hold him up. "Leon!" You cry out in shock and worry. You don't receive a reply, so you stumble towards the bed.
You fall back onto the mattress with a muted "oof." You cup Leon's cheeks and pull his head back to look into your eyes. For all you know, he could be passed out. But you realize soon enough that it isn't the case.
There's tears flowing down his cheeks reminiscent of an endless waterfall. There's so much pain in his face that it's hard to look at him. What the hell happened on that mission? Who did this to your baby?
"Oh, Leon." You whisper, thumbs wiping away the salty tears. Your heart throbs, and tears build up in your own eyes. He says your name, voice cracking with unimaginable pain and desperation.
Leon falls to pieces in your arms, and you do your best to stick them back together. He cries and cries. His arms tight around you, his body heavy on you, and his face buried in your neck. You rub his back, up and down, or in circles.
"You're okay. It's okay. I'm here. You're safe now." All the comforting things you can think of are whispered in his ear. You don't know how long you hold him, listening to his sobs and trying to silence your own.
You still don't know why he was crying that night, and that's what has been bothering you. Why has he never let you in? Why won't he just trust you? Was it alcohol even back then? Did whatever happen on that mission catapult him further into the bottle? Maybe you'll never have the answers.
Arguments come to mind, born from things you can't remember clearly anymore. Just pure rage about something that doesn't even matter and the way it tore your heart to shreds. One of you would always come back apologizing, and there'd be tears shed.
You're not sure this one will end the same way.
~☆~☆~☆~☆~
Nothing is solved in the morning. There's a tension between you two now. It's challenging because it's obvious you've taken a step back, and he won't apologize. There's lingering looks when the other is preoccupied. Neither of you mentions the fact that he's been sleeping on the couch.
No conversations are shared, only necessary ones for dinner or whatever. You just don't know how, and you're not eager to repeat your failure from last time. He always has a flask on him, though he's been out drinking more than home.
Not even his job as a government agent has been keeping him busy. Your husband is stagnant and doesn't care. Stuck as the waters around him grow ill and pungent with the smell of filth.
This house isn't a home anymore, and it's killing you. You turn away from the window in your bedroom. Then, walk out to the living room. You find Leon staring at a gun in his calloused hand.
You inhale sharply, shoulders locking up as you approach him slowly. "What are you doing, Leon?" It's a struggle to keep your voice even, but you manage.
He shrugs as if there's no need for concern like it means nothing to be weighing a handgun in your palm. "You ever think about how easy it would be? Here, one moment. Gone the next."
Immediately, you choke on a sob, and your hand goes flying to your mouth. He can't be. This isn't happening. How can the man you love be seriously contemplating this? "Leon." Your voice cracks, and you reach out. Nice and slow, you take the gun from Leon.
"It's not loaded." Another lift of his shoulders, and he gives it up easily. You hold the weapon close to your chest as he folds into himself. Back hunched, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands.
You cry, standing over him. The weighted gun is placed out of reach before you return to his side. His name falls from your lips again as you wrap him in your arms. He nuzzles into your stomach, sighing deeply while his arms embrace you.
Your body curves around him as if you can hide him away from this life-sucking world. Your lips brush over the top of his head. "I think I need help." He mumbles, your brave, beautiful man finally reaching his limit.
You hug him closer, placing a lingering kiss on him. "Okay."
~☆~☆~☆~☆~
Leon and you decide on rehab, though saying goodbye for a month absolutely destroys you. You won't be there to help him through his withdrawals. You won't get to see his progress in person and hold him. To make things worse, you know it's hurting him, too.
The night before he left was unforgettable. You made love for the first time in ages. Not one thing was said with words, only your bodies. He held you as close as humanly possible. His eyes watered and declared his love for you. Your hips rolled like waves under him.
Your nails left marks on his scarred back. Your eyes locked on his, open and vulnerable like never before. You came as one, and your name was a whispered promise. After that, you were tangled together and began crying.
He had to go, but that never meant it'd be easy.
It was the longest month of your life. Letters and limited phone calls weren't nearly enough. He was suffering through withdrawals, and you couldn't be there. You know it's probably for the best you messed all the ugliness of it. The aggressive mood swings, confusion, and his body working to dispell the poison.
But that was your man. You promised 'in sickness and in health.' He was your responsibility, and this was his most vulnerable moment. You told him how you felt on one of the short calls you were allowed.
"Baby, there's certain things I have to face on my own. You don't need to bear the weight of this anymore. You already did. Just treat this as a vacation, and I'll be back home with you soon." You don't see it, but you can picture the soft smile he has on his face right now. So, achingly familiar.
"I just miss you." You confess, choking up as you swallow down the urge to cry.
His warm chuckle caresses you through the phone, "I miss you too." You curl further in on yourself, laying on your side. Your eyes are staring at the wall while you imagine your husband there instead. To see him without those eye bags and a little more meat on his bones would be such a relief. To see his skin warm and glowing with life once more.
You hear some shuffling on his end of the phone, footsteps, and muffled voices. Your stomach drops as you know this will be another goodbye. "Hey, honey. I gotta go, alright? I love you."
You smile, hoping he'll hear some semblance of happiness in your voice. "I love you too, Leon." The call goes dead, and you drop the phone on the bed. You hug his pillow and fight off tears for as long as you can.
The day you get him back is like your wedding, oddly enough. Extremely happy and yet has your nerves fried. You stand outside the fancy rehab center, fidgeting with your wedding ring. It's a beautiful day, and a cool breeze has your dress rippling around your thighs.
Leon walks out with his bags, and someone else may be a counselor, but you don't care. You drink him in like a tall glass of water. He looks healthy. Weight back on his bones, skin glowing, and overall clean. Even his posture had changed for the better. You break out in laughter, joy bursting out of you.
And that's when he drops his baggage and runs to you. His laughter joins yours in the fullest expression of life. His arms lock around you, and he spins you. When he sets you back down, you cup his cheeks and press your forehead to his.
"Oh, how I love you." You whisper without a care for who sees. He's here. He's on the road to recovery. You haven't heard him laugh so fully like that in years. For the first time in forever, your whole body melts, and a sense of rightness covers you.
~☆~☆~☆~☆~
The story doesn't end here, or at least there's no perfect ending. Leon has his good and bad days. But he's been sober for months now. Some things linger like his insomnia. But he's getting help.
He has a therapist, counselors on speed dial, and he's intending AA meetings. Plus, he's got you to keep him busy. Both of you picked up quite a few hobbies and go outside more. Actually enjoying nature and being active together. Though he claims his favorite physical activity is spent in the sheets with you.
Yeah, your husband is smiling more, and you can't seem to stop.
He was nervous at the first AA meeting. But it was an open meeting, and you walked in with him, hands clasped tight together. He clung to you but offered up bits of himself to these people who suffered like he did.
He told you that sharing his story was one of the most difficult things he's ever done. But sharing it in small bits helped. Maybe the others hadn't faced Raccoon City, but they all had nightmares that led to alcohol. Yet they've all chosen to break free. To grab a hold of their stories once again.
Tonight, though, he's all yours. You sit up, perched on pillows, and look down at his disheveled appearance. His calm breaths, chest rising and falling. Soft strands of hair, threatening to cover his eyes. His broad back peeked out from under the covers.
You caress his face, delicate fingers following the line of his jaw and the curve of his cheek. Your heart is full of light and affection.
It wasn't easy, and there was plenty of pain along the way. But you'd do it all over again to gain a moment like this. To see him sleeping, completely at peace and blissfully sober.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woooooaaaaa! This was a lot, but thank you for reading!!!!!!
ི ✉️ ֦ છ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐓 ˗ˏ 𝓕𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. . . simon riley x 𝒻𝑒𝓂!reader drabble ꒰ mdni `` 18+ content ꒱ ۪ ݁ 848 words
。 🧷ׄ ⠀ ❛ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧. . . riding. he's a little condescending. language.
“ride me like you mean it, luvie,” simon grunts from beneath you, his words somewhat muffled from the cigarette dangling between his lips. one of his hands planted on your hip, a guiding yet firm gesture. your tits pressed up in front of his face, mouth sometimes pressing a biting kiss to the heated skin.
“‘m trying,” you huff at him, continuing the up and down movements. your thighs tremble under your weight, aches shooting through you, not letting up. your right hand tight on the back of his neck, the other on his bicep. the powerful muscles flexing under your grip like the peacock he is. “you’re too big.”
“nah, you just don’t wanna do all the work,” he states bluntly; he’s getting a kick out of watching you struggle. it’s not like he’s not aware of how big he is, but he knows you can take him—that you can take that burning stretch. this is what you do, always so eager for his cock when he’s doing the work, but when it’s time for you to step up to the plate? suddenly it’s all: “‘s too big,” or “si, can’t take anymore.” it would bother another, but simon loves it—you being difficult makes something ignite deep in his core.
“not true!" you protest weakly, not bothering to defend yourself because it is true. your thighs feel like giving out under you, hips rolling in a pathetic attempt for stimulation. one glance at simon’s amused face tells you he isn’t gonna make this easy on you, no matter how much you beg. he wants you to do the work, to show him you can take control of your pleasure. yet you still offer a sweet “please” to see if it’ll work.
“if you can take doggy like a pro, then you can fuck yourself on my cock, beautiful.” his head tilting to catch a better view of your scrunched-up face. his hand on your hip pinches lightly, urging you to speed up. you take the silent hint and pick up the pace, switching from slow grinds to up and down. you’re moving quicker now, but still refusing to sink down entirely on his length—not even halfway. “quit bein’ stubborn, you know how to take cock.”
your grumblings and whines fall on deaf ears; you realize you aren’t gonna get what you want until you do it his way. so you do, settling down entirely on his dick—ass flush with his thighs. he lets out a rough grunt, eyes slipping closed as he takes in your slick walls swallowing around him. “atta girl,” he praised, a quick pat to your ass letting you know he’s satisfied.
when simon’s eyes open again, they drag over every satisfied feature on your face. your mouth opened in the shape of a little ‘o’ and eyes glassy from unshed tears. the stretch burns deliciously, your arousal pooling at the base of his cock. he jerks his hips up roughly when you slow again, burying himself deeper. “keep goin’, you’re so close.”
you do, your movements relaying your desperation to cum. simon’s finally helping you, the cigarette burning forgotten in the tray as both hands aid your bouncing. he prevents you from stopping or slowing, determined to stop you from messing up his release again. he continues rutting up into you, the tip of his cock never missing the sweet spot that makes your toes curl.
“i’m close, si,” you moan out, nails leaving half crescents into the nape of his neck. you’re relentlessly bouncing on his cock, your moans and the sound of skin colliding fill the air. he’s not much better; breath hitching anytime he jerks up into you against his will. you can feel his fingers clench, like he’s resisting the urge to flip you on your back and fuck you properly. his patience running thin—the tightness in his jaw and the slight shifts under you giving it away. yet he still lets you continue, waiting to see if you can get off yourself.
“c’mon, you can do it,” he says gruffly, his gaze lidded as they rake over your tits moving in front of his face. the praise sending heat blossoming through your gut, walls clamping down on his cock. he’s taking over before you can process it, fucking up into you with vigor.
your cunt clings to him tighter as you near that edge, he shifts a hand to rub tight circles on your neglected clit. a cry rips through your chest as the stimulation tears your release right out of you, vision blurring as he helps you ride out the peak. your pussy milking him sends him spiralling, his thick length pulsing in you as he dumps warm ropes of cum into you.
you’ve gone slack against him, chests pressed together as the both of you take ragged breaths. he smooths a rough hand over your back, trying to help ground the both of you. “fuckin’ difficult,” he murmurs roughly, but it’s hard to miss the undeniable hint of affection in each word. “we’ll work on it.”
The moment his daughter’s born and the nurse lets him hold her, it was like a weight lifted off of his shoulders. All of the death and monsters he’d seen, the tragedies he’d faced, seemed to melt away when Leon gazed down at the sleeping baby in his arms, her chubby cheek pressed next to his heart.
He never wants to let her go. When she comes home from the hospital, Leon can always be seen roaming around the house, his daughter in his arms as he shows her around the place, his soft, deep voice easily putting her to sleep. Even as she grows and can be carried on a hip without needing head support, Leon has her and learns to do his chores with one hand just to keep her with him.
The fluttering in his chest he’d felt the moment she was born returns when her first word was “dada.” Leon had been playing with her, using her rattles and stuffed animals like action figures with a smile when she bounced excitedly and waved her arms around before saying it as she reached for him. His smile grows and he abandons the toys to pick up his little girl, cooing to her. “Yeah sweetheart, it’s dada. You love dada, huh?”
The baby raised her chubby hand to his cheek (although Leon could tell she thought about grabbing his hair instead) and said the word again.
Leon kissed her forehead. “Dada loves you so much, sweetheart.”
He would kill for his daughter if he needed to. In an instant, she became his greatest achievement and his will to live.
( ʕ·ᴥ·ʔっᢉ𐭩 ₊˚⊹) 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈ℯ𝓈 ─ leon kisses you like he’s a man starved. it’s always messy and driven by desperation. it’s natural to him. he knows how to drag kisses out to make you breathless and when to nip at your bottom lip to make you gasp, letting him lick into your mouth so that you’ll pant and whimper into him. he gets lost in kissing you and it never fails to make you feel dizzy 𑣲
( ʕ·ᴥ·ʔっᢉ𐭩 ₊˚⊹) 𝓃ℯ𝒸𝓀 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈ℯ𝓈 ─ leon is obsessed with kissing the sensitive spots on your neck. he loves being able to feel your soft whines and gasps catching in your throat, right under his lips, as he starts to graze his teeth against your skin. it drives him crazy, spurs him on and he can’t ever get enough before you’re hissing with the sting of his beard bringing your skin out in a pink rash 𑣲
( ʕ·ᴥ·ʔっᢉ𐭩 ₊˚⊹) 𝓉𝒽𝒾ℊ𝒽 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈ℯ𝓈 ─ the soft skin of your thighs gets kissed, bitten and littered with bruises that bloom slowly as leon takes breaks from making you come. his stubble damp with your slick and his eyes half lidded whilst he watches your cunt clench with every kiss that eventually turns into a deep, throbbing, suck that makes you choke out a little sob before you beg for more 𑣲
( ʕ·ᴥ·ʔっᢉ𐭩 ₊˚⊹) 𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓃ℯ 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈ℯ𝓈 ─ any time that leon has you bent over with your back arched while he fucks into you slowly but so deeply, he dots kisses down the length of your spine. all the way from the very top, by your neck, to the bottom. mumbling praise in between each soft kiss, telling you how good you are and how well you’re taking him, leaving you whimpering into the sheets 𑣲
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