Lifes Fucked.. So Find Things That Make It Better

Yo, V, Johnny called with too much forced nonchalance to make you expect something truly witty. Whatever he was about to say, he came prepared, which was an even worse sign. It was Johnny fucking ‘Nonchalance’ Silverhand.

What? You asked indifferently, checking the location sent to you by a client.

Damn Northside again, it was making you feel sick already. But Johnny couldn’t care less. He was in his own world currently, and no force could break him out of it.

You have a favorite fixer?

“Why?” It broke out of your throat out loud, not like you would usually talk to him.

It could be the exhaustion you felt or simply how ridiculous that question was, coming from him.

Just like that, he muttered, but you could tell he already didn’t like your reaction. And shut up. We don’t want you talkin’ to yourself out loud, especially when you’re infiltrating a building, do we?

Here he was, the flashy bastard.

I guess… Reyes’ fine, you answered and checked your rifle for the final time, scanning the place.

San Domo's first lunatic?

Not that you cared about his mocking tone, he knew that. You, on the other hand, knew that he would complain no matter what you would say.

If you insist on calling him that way.

The silence, the fucking lovely silence that dragged on, told you he wanted to hear more but wouldn’t admit it.

I like the way he speaks to me. Could fool me that he respects me, you explained.

Or he's just trying very hard to make it into your pants, Johnny answered like he was only waiting to bring that up.

Maybe, you agreed without unnecessary banter. If so, I'd say he's like… halfway there.

The disgusted groan you could hear made you crack a smile. All while climbing up the nearest window to avoid the guards at the building’s entrance.

What the fuck, V…

You really wanted to laugh.

He'd be closer to it if not the haircut.

That wasn’t enough for Johnny that day. He didn’t make it an hour even before he started rambling again, so much out of his usual behavior. He didn’t even call you a gonk this week, which was weird as fuck to say the least.

What about Hands?

You frowned, and you were no longer sure if it came from his irritating voice in your mind or the bullet that rang next to your ear. Mr. Hands the fixer?

It took him a moment to answer, or he was simply waiting for you to finish up with the guy hiding behind a vending machine. There was something metallic in the gurgling scream he let out. One more Maelstrom bastard down.

Him, Johnny said. You’re into that kind of… secret, faceless shit?

Not really, you murmured and switched the rifle to a simple knife.

How abo–

You let out a sight.

How about not now, Johnny? I have this guy's brain on my boots and a customer to save.

Silverhand, though, decided to have no damn mercy over you. It only got worse, honestly.

You were sitting in your car peacefully, somewhere near Ebunike docks, trying to catch a silent moment in a city that never stopped screaming and howling right into your ear. Johnny, apparently, teamed up with it on the task of disturbing your moment of meditation.

Remember about Claire?

Normally you would roll your eyes, but he managed to pique your interest. 

What Claire, Johnny?

Jesus V, you’re an awful friend. She called yesterday, and you didn't pick up ‘cause you were busy.

That made sense.

Oh, Claire! Right. It's probably about the next race, and you know we don’t have time for that now.

He did know, and certainly there was a reason why he brought that up. After a few moments, he spoke up again, sounding like there was even more irritation filling his nonexistent body than ever.

… And do you like her?

Okay, Johnny, that's enough, you decided. You're starting to sound as if you're my younger sister, and the next step is asking if you can go on my date with me.

“Hey, I know you!”

On some days you were so used to the voice in your head that hearing someone actually speak was giving you creeps. Yeah, you were certainly going mad. Real voices made you shiver, especially when they weren’t screams of dying enemies but something casual, simple in its regularity.

Johnny tended to keep reminding you that he only sees what you see, but now you’d say he was full of shit. You didn’t even budge your head up at the friendly greeting, and here Johnny was, whining in your mind in irritation as if he could see the man in front of you already.

Nah, tell him that he doesn’t know you, V. Make it sound like a warning, he advised in that voice of his that made everything sound like an order you would do wrong anyway.

What’d you care? You snapped back. Afraid to be the less famous one of us?

“Shit, I didn’t expect to see the Legend herself sitting in the hall next door from me,” said the man  in front of you.

Judging from his voice, he was nice enough. To your ear, it wasn’t  a pickup line exactly, not a threat of any kind. Not that you let your guard down easily.

What I care, Johnny kept going, is that I don’t want a welcome party in our flat just because your neighbor is a snitch.

Our flat, Johnny? Our? You asked teasingly.

Yours, he agreed after a moment of silence. Fuck, same thing, V.

It ain’t.

Shut up.

“I don’t mean to bother you, ma’am, just—” the man spoke again, interrupting your rather unwanted bickering with your holographic paradise.

“The Legend, huh?” You questioned and looked up from your work. Dirty work, in fact, but rather a domestic one for a merc like you. Boring, too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” He smiled, seeing your grin anyway. “Well, alright then… I must have mistaken you for someone, right? You don’t happen to be V, do you?”

You shrugged and looked around the corridor, just in case Johnny was right. He could be, sure, but… he usually wasn't. Or that was how you would prefer it.

“I am, but just… neighbor V right now, not Legend V,” you remarked firmly.

“I get it. You, uhm—” Clearly he forgot what he wanted to say when he nodded to your current occupation.

Suddenly you got a little cautious about the situation. A bucket of semi-clean water, sunk in blood. You, crouched over between the thing, your pair of combat boots, and a huge stain of water near you, trying not to get more wet than you already were. The man took in the sight deeply, you could tell, and you almost moved the bucket behind you to hide it.

What the hell, V? Just tell him to piss off instead of going shy all of a sudden.

Fuck. At least you kicked the door to your apartment closed so he wouldn’t see the mess inside with the crown view of your bra displayed in the middle of it.

You don’t hide your bras from me, so don’t shy out now, Johnny teased.

How the fuck would I hide them from you? You asked sarcastically.

You girls always find ways, I don't know…

The man spotted your unpleased expression and looked at the remaining gore on the spike of your boots. “Not the nicest work, huh?” He suggested.

“How did you know?” You scoffed, making him smile a bit.

“Hey, I could… Maybe do it for you next time, perhaps? Save you a bother?” He offered, moving his hands too much for your liking when he talked.

“Because I’m the hero V? No thanks.”

He shook his head immediately.

“Nah, not what I meant. I'd do mine anyway, so…” He shrugged, nodding to his own door then making you look left. “See, there’s this old lady living over there. She’s a kind one, delicate. I don't want her passing out from the sight of blood and all.”

Oh, so he likes grandmas too, what a guy, Johnny hissed. Ask him if he's an animal shelter volunteer while you’re at it already. For fuck's sake…

“Yeah, whatever…” you muttered to your neighbour, unconvinced about his intentions at all.

“I mean, I get why you do it here. The flats are rather small and… Yeah, I wouldn't want blood all over my place either.”

Actually, if he was insisting… What, he would steal your old boots? Then so be it, you could have another pair.

“Yeah. You know what? Hell, yeah, you can clean my boots if you want so badly,” you decided while clasping your palms together in your lap. With a merciful smile, you looked at him again. “Who am I to turn you down?”

“Great,” he laughed. “I mean not great in a … I’m not some sort of weirdo, I mean.”

“Oh no, you certainly are,” you joked and stood up.

He rolled his eyes and offered you his hand.

“Was just trying to be nice. I’m Matt.”

After a longer conversation it turned out that Matt was, in fact, rather nice and he indeed lived next door. Not talkative enough to consider him irritating but not quiet to make the talk boring. Not that Johnny agreed with any of that, obviously. He mocked the man every chance he got but he started his true vendetta against him (and you too, to be precise) only when you entered your flat again.

Well, at least your bloodied boots were clean now, right?

God, you’re stupid, V. You could feel the growl even somewhere in the depth of your skull.

Sometimes he could be really infuriating.

Excuse me? You say something, rockerboy?

He showed up to sprawl all over your sofa. He shook his head and supported it with his hands, laying on his back.

You’re so dead, dude… With the shit you do? I'm surprised you're still breathing.

Bastard. How dare he, after all you’ve been through because of him?

You let out a grim chuckle, making even the never caring Silverhand look up, shooting you a glare from under his shades.

Oh, so it's ‘our’ flat, but ‘I’m’ dead. Yeah, nice, you scoffed.

Followin’ the religious path I’d say a man can’t die twice, so–, he tried to argue.

And when the hell did you step on the religious path, huh, Johnny Silverhand?

Never. I’m making it fit my delusions, just like they do.

All you could do was sigh and sit next to him, resting your weary bones.

What got you so mad anyway? The guy? I mean what, you don’t like guys being nice to me?

You would swear that the look on his face betrayed nothing but vicious intentions. Ones like that if he could, he would push you to the ground right now.

Not just a guy and he wasn't being nice. He ‘saka scum, are you blind? He ‘explained’ like it was obvious.

What?

The implants, you gonk?

There he was, putting an end to this week’s niceness.

Jesus. Many people have ‘saka implants. Maybe he’s an ex corp or bought it secondhand, you reasoned.

Yeah, tell this to yourself. Feed you fucking innocence, V. Or do you like that, huh? Does it turn you on? He wouldn’t be the first Arasaka bastard you do heart eyes at.

Now he made you sit up straighter and tighten your fist on one of the pillows.

What the fuck, Johnny?

He dared to grin, smile right into your face at the same time looking like he would throw up.

Takemura?

You felt like laughing, the wave of terror going away as fast as it washed over you.

Takemura, you repeated. Seriously? You are the big Johnny Silverhand, king of retorts, and you pull the ‘Goro Takemura’s nice eyes’ thing at me?

It ain’t a lie though.

You really wanted to mess with him and ask which part exactly wasn’t a lie, because you’d bet he didn’t mean the man’s eyes.

Yeah, fine, you admitted, guessing it would annoy him even more. He’s alright, so what?

So what? If he could he would choke on his own breath and you would pay to see that. Jump off the nearest roof, it’d be easier and you’d spare me humiliation.

You decided to ignore him, so you turned on the TV and made yourself more comfortable.

You are SO jealous, Johnny, you teased. But I mean like sooo jealous.

You’re outta your mind, V.

Good thing you’re in it then. Do the thinking for the both of us. Because that’s what you imagine you do, no?

No. I know it.

“I might ask him to go out with me,” you admitted to Misty one day, mentioning your newly met neighbour.

She was glad to hear it, nodded all enthusiastically and wished you luck.

Still, the silence in your head felt heavy. Quiet enough to give you a headache, since you were so used to constant noise.

Or agree if he asks first, you added only for Johnny to hear.

It made him speak up against his better judgement, but he felt like he had to.

Do what you want about the first, but the second… It’ll be a trap, V. If I had money I'd bet a nice sum on it.

So you say I should be quick with asking myself, then. Nice, I'll do that.

So here you were, led to this situation only because you wanted to mock Johnny a bit and make him admit a few things. You didn’t really like it. Not at all, to be honest, so you kept your revolver close. You forced yourself into calmness to not give him any satisfaction.

The man you were supposed to meet for a date stood in front of his car that was too fancy to think he wasn’t showing off and too pathetic to actually be impressed. He had that look about him, that fucking grin Johnny knew well. Hell, he wore it himself many times. A damn animal on a hunt.

You stared at him from your window, still contemplating if it was worth it.

Nice car, you muttered to Johnny. Lots of space in the back.

Oh, V.

Fine, if he wasn’t in the mood for talking then no. You reached out for your stuff and marched to the door, but Johnny managed to stop you.

Take the blockers, he almost ordered. I don’t want to see any of that.

No, I don't think I will.

What the hell, V? Take them.

He let the thought about your doomed intentions sink. It all scared him much more than he would care to admit.

What are you doing, huh? Why?

You brushed the doorknob a few times, almost playfully.

You know why.

He turned mute again, but even though you couldn’t sense his thoughts or feelings for a while, you felt a sharp tug somewhere in your chest.

Admit it, you dared him.

Admit what? Johnny snarled.

God, you’re so stubborn… Are lead vocalists always this bossy and stubborn?

Shut up.

I can do that but you’d have to speak up. Say you’re jealous.

Of you? He mocked.

Maybe it should sting but it didn’t. It was fucking Johnny, he said worse things just minutes after saying he’d offer his life for yours if he had something left to give.

Of me. Say that it’s making you go crazy.

You know what an overread is, V? Means you’re seeing things.

Fine. then I guess I'll be going, you declared and fixed the cleavage of your shirt, before gripping the door again. Matt surely can take care of a woman like you’d never—

I am fucking jealous. It almost sounded painful. Like words of someone who said the truth and was genuinely petrified by that. Alright? It’s the last time I’m saying that and I do it only because I don't want to see that bastard without his clothes.

What was that? I didn’t quite catch it, you muttered, opening the door.

Fffuck, V, he groaned. I’m jealous. I don’t want to see him touch you. I don’t want to see anyone but him especially.

What about Goro if you already mentioned him?

Fuck Goro. He’ll send us to an early grave, that I know, but if he lays his fucking hands on you that way I’ll–

You will what? There’s nothing you can do, Johnny.

You think I don’t fucking know that? I don’t like how all of this pleases you, V. You’re being a bitch right now.

I guess. You can live with it. It's nice hearing you not bullshiting once a while.

He must have set keeping you here and away from Matt his true goal, because he didn’t talk back, didn’t curse, not even joke.

So will you go see him? He asked.

No. No, I guess you just pleased me enough. Don't need more entertainment…

You’re fucking cruel.

So what if you were? He wasn’t a saint either.

It was fun when you asked me about people, you admitted, realizing your upper hand over him now. Do it again.

He obeyed in a pathetic manner. As if he was using his only chance to finish a task.

Reed? He offered.

What about him?

You like that soldierish patheticness?

Oh, he's fine.

Johnny grunted without further comment.

What, you don't like that he's all that you are not? Chill, he’s not interested in me.

He showed up right in front of you, making you step back even though you really didn’t have to.

And who the fuck was there for you when you were barely alive? He rasped all of a sudden. Who talked to you when you were choking on your own vomit? Sure as hell not any of ‘em!

You would laugh into his face if you weren’t busy clenching your jaw.

You had no other choice, you pointed out.

I did have a fucking choice. I could just leave you to yourself, pretend I don't exist and still I bothered to make it easier for you.

Then promise me, Johnny! You screamed. Promise me that you will be here for me when I need you. That you won’t leave, fuck me when I’m at my lowest. Won’t let Alt eat me alive. Can you say that and mean it?

I promise, fuck.

You were in a true state of mess right now.

You should have gotten to that damn date, only if it could save you from another night of work. This occupation was addictive. The adrenaline, closeness of death, chrome and always lingering psychos… It was awful, yes, but it could also get you in its embrace and never let go.

The job went well, but it didn’t matter.

Not right now, when just minutes ago a kid was literally run over by a truck in front of you. They tried to flee, get away before a stray bullet would catch them and you tried to reach the small body to cover it with yours for a while. Offer the child a chance to let go.

The bleak reality washed over you when everything silenced. The sight was brutal but finally calm. You could steady your breath, hide your weapons and let go of any masks you wore. All you wanted was someone to talk to.

You needed a holo to a friend who would listen that life sucks and this town will drain your blood like a vamp. But there was no Jackie anymore. No nobody, because you wouldn’t be able to look yourself in the mirror if you bothered poor Vik with more of your problems.

And where are you now, huh? You promised to be there for me when I needed you, you muttered to the man you were tied to.

The one who could stay quiet and let you handle your sorrows yourself, but he was much too impatient to do that.

I am here, V. Always.

He was, even if it sometimes didn’t feel enough.

You sighed, wiping your hands over your shirt.

Do you want to have a crazy night with me, Johnny? Forget everything for a while?

Just not too crazy this time. I don’t want you whining and complaining in the morning.

You know what? Maybe we do fit together, after all…

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

“Really, it’s nothing.” 

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

And then he chuckles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m down.” 

I’m down. Famous last words.

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

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

But you hadn’t forgotten. 

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

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

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

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

“So pretty.” 

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

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

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

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

“Good boy. Didn’t think so.” 

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

“Oh, I bet you do.” 

His head hangs in defeat. 

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

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

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

His poor heart can’t take it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you beg.” 

He huffed a breath. “…yes. Better.”

Your hand slid between you again, already knowing exactly what you were looking for.

He was still half-hard.

Still recovering.

Still completely willing.

“Round two?” you whispered.

James glanced at you, something dark and amused flickering in his eyes. “You don’t give a man much time to recover.”

You shifted your hips as he inhaled sharply.

“…apparently not.”

You freed his cock again, stroking him slowly just to watch his composure crack all over again.

“Darling—” he warned.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You said you wouldn’t stop me.”

“That was before we relocated.”

You smiled. “Too late.”You lifted yourself, positioning over him again.

The angle was tighter now.

More cramped.

More intense.

“Careful,” he muttered.

You sank down anyway as both of you groaned.

“Oh—”

James’s head hit the seat behind him, one hand gripping your hip hard as you adjusted to the angle.

“…that’s....different.”

You laughed softly, already moving. “Say thank you.”

He exhaled sharply. “Thank you.”

Your hips started a slow rhythm, the movement tighter now, the space forcing every motion to be deeper, more deliberate.

James’s hands slid up your sides, gripping firmly as he watched you. “…you’re enjoying this far too much.”

You leaned down, kissing him again, tongue gliding against his for a moment. “Obviously.”

His restraint didn’t last, it never did with you. His hands took over, guiding your hips into a sharper rhythm, helping you move faster despite the cramped seat pressing against your back.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low now. “Keep going...”

Your breath broke. “James..”

The movement grew messier, more desperate as your thighs burned slightly from the awkward angle, but neither of you cared, not when every movement dragged another reaction from him.

He groaned your name, his composure unraveling faster this time.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” he muttered.

You laughed breathlessly. “You’ll survive.”

“Debatable.”

His grip tightened as he started thrusting up into you now, matching your pace, the rhythm turning sharp and chaotic in the confined space.

“Oh—!”

Your hands braced against the roof of the car, your body bouncing slightly with each movement as the pressure built again, faster than before.

“James!! I’m...”

“I know.” His voice dropped, rough, controlled in that way that meant he was barely holding it together. “You don’t stop now.”

Your orgasm hit suddenly, your body tightening around him as you gasped against his mouth.

James followed immediately.

His head tipped back, a low groan escaping as he came, his grip locking you in place as his control finally shattered again.

For a moment neither of you said a thing, just heavy breathing, heat trapped in the backseat.

You slumped forward against him, laughing softly as you gave the scar on his cheek a kiss. "...so worth it again."

James let out a long breath. “…the upholstery will never forgive us.”

You grinned against his shoulder. “You love me.”

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer despite everything. “…unfortunately.”

You laughed.

He kissed your temple. “…and yes, I absolutely do.”

Round three started differently.

Too quiet.

You had barely caught your breath when James moved.

Not rushed.

Not desperate.

Deliberate.

“Alright,” he said calmly, voice lower now, steadier in a way that made your stomach flip.

You blinked up at him, still half-laughing. “…what?”

His hand slid to your waist.

Firm, gripping your waist.

“This has gone on long enough.”

Before you could respond, he flipped you.

Fast.

Efficient.

Now you were the one pressed into the backseat, your back against the leather, your breath catching as James shifted over you, broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from outside.

Your eyes widened.

“Oh—”

James adjusted his cuffs slightly.

Like he hadn’t just been wrecked twice. “…my turn.”

You swallowed. “…you recovered fast.”

He gave you a faint, knowing look. “You’ve had your fun.” His hand slid up your thigh, pushing it aside, opening you up again with slow, undeniable control as his thumb rubbed your clit. “Now I’m going to have mine.”

Your breath hitched. “James—”

“Shh.” His voice softened but the command in it didn’t. He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours, not rushed this time. His hand moved again, between you, fingers sliding through your still-sensitive heat.

You gasped.

“Still sensitive,” he murmured.

You glared weakly. “That’s your fault.”

“Good.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hand steady as he lined himself up again.

“No more rushing,” he said quietly. “No more distractions.”

Your stomach tightened. “…you’re serious.”

“Very.”

Then he pushed inside you.

Slow.

Painfully slow.

You sucked in a breath, your hands gripping his shoulders as he filled you inch by inch, forcing you to feel everything. “James—”

“Patience.” His forehead rested against yours as he settled fully inside you, holding still for a moment.

Letting you adjust, then he moved, with one slow thrust.

“Oh....”

“That’s better,” he murmured.

Another.

Same pace.

Same control.

No frantic movement this time.

Just steady, deliberate rhythm that made your body react even harder than before.

“James—” you whispered, already unraveling.

He smiled faintly. “You’re not in charge anymore.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders. “I noticed.”

His hand slid up your body, cupping your breast, squeezing gently as his hips kept that same slow, devastating pace. “You’re still trying to keep up,” he observed quietly.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Another slow thrust.

You gasped. “…no.”.

He kept you right there, on the edge, never speeding up, never letting you rush it, forcing you to feel every inch, every movement, every shift of his body against yours.

“Say my name,” he murmured.

“James—”

“Again.”

“James!!”

His hand tightened at your hip.

“Good.”

Your body trembled beneath him, the slow pace somehow worse than the frantic earlier rounds, the tension building and building with no release.

“Please....” you breathed.

He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “What do you want?”

Your breath stuttered. “You....faster—”

"I'm afraid I cannot do that darling." James didn’t rush it.

Even now, after everything, you could feel the difference in him. The way he held you down against the backseat, one hand firm at your hip, the other braced beside your head as his cock moved inside your pussy in slow, deliberate strokes.

Each one deeper than the last. Each one making your breath break all over again.

“James!!” you gasped, fingers tightening in his shirt, your heart pounding in your chest.

He didn’t answer immediately.He was watching you.Studying every reaction like he was committing it to memory.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low. “Take it.”

Your body trembled beneath him, still sensitive, still warm, still completely at his mercy as he kept that steady rhythm.

Not fast.

Not frantic.

Just deep.

Your nails dragged down his back of his shirt as your hips tried to move with him, he stopped you immediately, grip tightening.

“No,” he said softly. “You stay right there.”

Your breath hitched. “…you’re not playing fair.”

He leaned closer, lips brushing yours. “I’m not playing at all.”

That sent a sharp twist of heat through your stomach.

His pace didn’t change.

Every slow thrust dragged against that same spot, building pressure in a way that made it impossible to think straight.

“James....I’m—”

"I know love." His voice was steady. “You’ll come for me.”

Your body tightened around him at the way he said it. Like a fact, not a question.

His hand slid down between you, thumb brushing over your clit in time with his movements.

That did it.

Your back arched hard against the seat, your breath breaking as your orgasm hit, your pussy clenching tight around his cock.

“James!!!” His name broke into a sob as your hips arched off the seat.

He groaned quietly at the feeling, his composure finally cracking just slightly as his hips drove deeper, holding you right there as you came.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “That’s my girl—”

The praise alone made you tighten again and that is what pushed him over.

His rhythm faltered for the first time, his breath hitching as he buried himself deep inside you, his grip tightening at your waist.

“Christ...”

He came hard, a low groan escaping him as he filled you, his cock pulsing inside your pussy as he held you down, not letting you move, not letting the moment break.

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. The windows were fogged, breathes slowly evening out with James still inside you.

Then slowly…James exhaled.His forehead rested against yours. “…there’s your answer.”

You blinked up at him, still dazed. “…to what?” Your leg slowly sliding off his hip.

He gave you a faint, smug look. “Why I didn’t want to rush this one.”

You laughed weakly. “…show off.”

He huffed a quiet breath, but didn’t pull away as he instead kept you there, still filled with him, his hand sliding up your side in a slower, softer touch now.

“…you’re not walking for a bit,” he added calmly.

You smiled lazily. “Worth it.”

He shook his head slightly. “…you’re going to be the death of me.”

Failing.

They settled on your hips.

Firm.

Warm.

Grounding.

“You realize,” he murmured, voice dropping, “if we start this, I won’t be able to stop.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his.“Good.”

That was all it took.

James kissed you.

Hard.

Controlled at first but the second you rolled your hips again, pressing down onto him, that control cracked.

“Christ—” he breathed against your mouth.

Your hand slid between you, freeing his cock from his trousers. It sprang up, already hard, brushing against your inner thigh.

You smiled. “Missed me?”

He huffed a quiet, strained laugh. “You have no idea.”

You lifted slightly, guiding him between your thighs.

The angle was awkward.

The space was tight.

You didn’t care.

Neither did he.

“Careful—” he started.

You sank down onto him.

Both of you groaned.

“—too late,” he finished weakly.

You stilled for a second, adjusting to the fullness, your hands gripping his shoulders as the cramped position forced you closer than usual.

“Oh—”

James’s head fell back against the seat. “Bloody hell…”

You laughed breathlessly. “Language, Mr. Bond.”

He opened his eyes, looking up at you with something dark and entirely undone. “You’re going to ruin this car.”

You rolled your hips. “Worth it.”

His hands tightened on your waist immediately as you started to move, slow at first, finding a rhythm despite the tight space, the console pressing awkwardly against your thigh.

“Careful,” he muttered, voice strained, though he made no move to stop you.

You didn’t listen but then again you never did. Your pace picked up, your body rising and falling over him, your breath soft and uneven as the friction built quickly in the confined space.

James groaned, his head tipping back again, hands still holding your hips. “This is...this is a terrible idea—”

You leaned down, lips brushing his ear then gave it a nip. “You love it."

His hands slid higher, gripping your hips harder.

“I do,” he admitted.

His composure was slipping fast.Every small movement of your body made it worse, the way you shifted, the way your thighs tightened around him, the way your breath broke right against his neck.

“Look at you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Can’t even wait until we get home—”

You kissed him again, cutting him off.Your hips moved faster.

His restraint shattered.“Alright..” he breathed, “alright, you asked for this—”

His hands took control, guiding your hips now, helping you move in a sharper rhythm despite the cramped seat, the steering wheel pressing into your side.

“Oh....James—” Your lips parted.

He groaned at the sound of his name.“That’s it...keep going—”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as the pressure built too quickly, the angle hitting deeper with every movement. “James....I’m—”

“I know.”

His voice was low now.

Focused.

“You’re not stopping, darling.”

Neither was he.

Your orgasm hit first, your body tightening around him as you gasped against his mouth.

That was all it took.

James groaned your name, his grip tightening as he thrust up into you once, twice, then held you down as he came, completely undone beneath you.

Just breathing.

Just heat.

Just the faint ticking of the cooling engine.

You leaned your forehead against his. “…worth it.”

James let out a breathless laugh. “…absolutely not.”

You grinned. “You’re lying.”

He looked up at you, still holding your waist. “…I am.”

daring and pretty much unbothered over the fact that you've stolen one of james' shirt from his closet, which absolutely looks quite baggy on you yet comfortably fitting at the same time.

cressida and monroe aren't home at the moment as well, and james is probably bonding himself with some other wherever he is. they probably will return late, which leaves you at home all by yourself.

except it doesn't even last longer after you have such a thought. james ended up returning home first while the two are nowhere to be seen yet.

he appears to be a little too smug over the fact that you're wearing his shirt.

"well, what do we have here..." what a sight for his eyes only.

"what." you attempted to retain your newly deadpanned demeanor and response, narrowing your eyes sassily. "don't blame me now. it's your fault for having such comfy shirts to wear during these hellish weather."

his eyes lowered momentarily upon your form, before returning back upwards as to where your face is; remaining there as long as he's able to.

"i can see that."

you wanted to retort something back, but settled with a brief silence instead. his usual magnetic smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes were all too evident— sauntering closer towards where you stood.

it causes your face to instinctively grew warmer, holding out a random broom stick that you managed to grab from wherever it is from; holding it in front of you and him. perhaps as a way of threatening him away or wanting to beat his ass with it, just because you can.

nonetheless, james didn't seem to be bothered by it. in fact, he finds it utterly comical at this point.

"darling, is that supposed to scare me?"

"perhaps. your pick." you casually shrugged, pretending not to be all giddy upon hearing the pet name, which seemed to naturally roll off his tongue so easily. how unfair.

before he got the chance to reply or speak anything at all, you literally throw the broom stick at his direction— trying to do some mini distraction before running around the house so that he doesn't get to you.

how wrong you were.

of course, james is clearly known to be able to handle anything that's being thrown his way, which includes this. he flawlessly dodges the 'attack', refusing to waste any more time before chasing you, much to your short-lived excitement and sudden dismay at the same time.

the chase lasted for a solid few minutes before james ultimately managed to corner you against the kitchen wall. you flailed helplessly as he lifted you with effortless ease afterwards, casually throwing you over his shoulder.

"okay, jokes over put me down—!"

"i don't think that's going to happen soon, love."

he stated smugly with such confidence, not intending to let you down anytime soon as a payback. oh, how you hated his ass for this. it only took you a few moments before realizing he wouldn't want to set you down— not yet anyways, so you eventually, and reluctantly complied.

"good girl."

james basically carried you to his room, just because he finds your behavior amusing (and whatever he intends to do with you since cress and monroe aren't home yet either). why not use this given opportunity, right?

"try anything and i'll kick your balls so hard it'll fly off through this apartment's window."

when he finally turns his head to properly look at you from the side, he looks a bit baffled, mixing together with a challenging yet amused look.

"i like to see you try, sweetheart."

though he doesnt give it any thought, instead his one hand pinned your waist down on the mattress, while your legs remained wide and inviting, and his other free hand grips his requiem as he teases your cum-soaked hole with his gun, then with a smirk slyly before he collects his leaking seed from your cunt onto the sight nuzzle of his gun then slowly, he slides it over your folds, in a deliberate slowness, he moves it slowly up and down onto your slick folds; which makes you suck in a sharp breath, and just then after seeing your reaction, he slides and presses the gun, onto your puffy and sensitive clit, and you scream loudly, which quickly turns into a cry of pleasure, without thinking your trembling hands guide themselves onto his arms as you dig your nails, deep into his forearm skin which you were sure were bleeding now.

but leon didnt wince neither he complained instead his cock throbbed as precome starts to leak from his tip again, "Le--, f--fuck, its so--," you sobbed, he groans at that, and slaps his gun onto your clit, which makes you roll your eyes onto the back of your head, and your mouth hangs open and you, drool a little and feel it drip down onto your chin. "Something tells me, you want it.", he drawls out his word with deliberate teasing manner.

"Though anyways, you haven't answered me.. darling.." Leon says patiently, not doing anything, just pressing the cold barrel of his gun onto your cunt again, "if you trust me.." making you shudder uncontrollably in pleasure.

You did want to answer, or maybe just nod your head, that yes you did trust him, more than you trusted yourself, and it wasnt that you were intentionally ignoring him, but god your words got stuck onto mid way of your throat and all you could get out was choked out moans, as you feel the adrenaline rush into your chest and coiling them tightly with your heart.

Fuck. How could he still have that much stamina in him? After pounding into you for a solid hour, after fucking you senseless until you were trembling and spent — there he was, still hungry, like he hadn't even started.

Damn it.

And you knew. That look of his, that predatory gaze, him pressing his barrel onto your clit, that he wanted to fuck you with his requiem, hard and fast. But instead of feeling fear, you were fucking dripping, and you could your arousal leaking over his fingers, onto that absurdly expensive gun, and somehow that crazy part of you wanted him to pull the trigger on both.

With everything you had, every scrap of breath, every trembling nerve, you forced the words out of your throat, 'Y-yes!' You yelped and it came out cracked and desperate, just like your cunt.

'Fuckin' beautiful,' he cooed almost softly, as if he didnt just spent an hour fucking you: as if he isnt just going to fuck you with his gun.

Pulling you out of your thoughts he finally leaned in, and kissed your lips slow and deep like he was tasting your surrender, then finally with deep groan he pulled back. When he straightened, you saw his balls heavy, and his cock shaking with the need of your cunt coiled tight in his body to fuck you, but he doesnt make any move to put it inside you.

"Do you know," he murmurs pausing a second before continuing, 'this gun has one bullet in it?' Then he slides the barrel down from your clit making your thighs convulse but you dont close them, feeling the anticipation instead, then he slide it lower and presses it sharply against your entrance, the steel of it kisses of your cunt, and you nod furiously your head bobbing like a puppet with cut strings, god--you were actually losing it because god knows you trust him. And you know he would never hurt you, and you could hear the desperate chant in your skull: "Please, Leon. Fuck me with it. Please."

"Need you to speak up, darling," Leon chuckles, the sound was low and cruel in the best way possible as it vibrates in your chest, and he still withholds what your body is screaming for. The barrel of his gun rests heavy against your hole, like a promise.

You swallow hard, and you feel your throat dry again in an instant your heart hammering so loud you're sure he can hear it. "Leon, please," you manage, again between sobs. "Let your requiem inside me. I trust you." The admission slips out of you as easily, like you werent just inviting danger inside you, "Please don't leave me like this, let my walls touch your gun." The moment the last word leaves your lips, he finally gives you what you want.

The slick, polished steel of his gun pushes against your cunt, then, fuck — the barrel slides inside you with the loudest, filthiest squelch you've ever heard in your life, it was way too obscene, the loud sound echoes in the quiet room, the undeniable proof of exactly how much you wanted this.

And your back arches violently off the mattress, your spine bending like a bow, your hips bucking upward chasing more, and more, but he doesn't let you move, instead he lets out a frustrated growl, "dont move"-- fuck the audacity of this man, you think to yourself , asking you of something you have no control over, then without waiting for your response, or letting you speak his free hand that rested on your waist and it slids down on your thighs, pinning you hard to the bed, holding you exactly where he wants you, you felt your flesh feel more sensitive by each passing second and you moan at every touch he makes to your body, and every contact of his to yours.

And instead of letting you chase your pleasure, he takes control completely. He pulls the gun back out of your begging cunt, and then with a pause as you whine, he drives it inside you again, finding a rhythm that's shameless and pleasurable for you.

You feel the metal is way too cool inside your heat, a contrast and that makes you gasp, no it made you sob his name like a orison, making your toes curl on to the sheets, while your vision blur at the edges, and whiteness starts to flood behind your lids. "Leon," you choke out, syllables breaking apart, "Leon, f-fuck—"

"Yes, darling?", he teases, though the rhythm of his gun doesn't falter. If anything, he fucks you harder with it, and then he slides it deeper inside you, the wet sounds growing filthier and your arousal starts to coat the barrel of his gun and his finger in same obscene way, and you feel your walls contracting against the gun cool barrel, "For lord's sake," you whimper, and then words fail completely as he finally hits the perfect spongy spot inside your urethra, the devastating angle so perfect, that it makes everything inside you tingle as it hits the right spot, "Fuck--Right there!" You mewl and your head falls back again the pillow, and your mouth opens widely and the silent scream of his name freezes, on your tongue as he works you open with the deadly precision.

"There?" he asks, his eyes darkening to a deeper shade of blue as he devours your convulsing body, your frame starts to soaked with sweat then he pulls the gun out of you, making you whine in disappointment he chuckles deeply but he doesn't give you time to protest before pushing it inside again. Your walls spasm around it, your thighs beginning to shake as you clutch his forearm tightly again, so tight that blood trickles down from his arm to your thighs. "Ye—" you start, but the words that slipped out of your throat dissolved directly into the air, "Oh fuck, Leon, I feel—"

Though he doesn't give you another moment to recover. Instead, he drags the barrel from your thighs, to your lips , while pressing the warm gun soaked from your arousal between them, and your eyes widen in shock, as he orders in a firm deep voice, "Suck it clean."

He doesnt let you finish: instead he presses the barrel against your G-spot again, and your body shakes heavily. Then he removes his hand from your thighs, and instead guide it over your sensitive numb then slowly he rubs your clit instead, pinching it between his finger and thumb, and you sob again, as tears start to form and spill from your eyes onto the sheet below, the sweat pooling on your body despite the air-conditioned room. "I'm gonna cum," you gasp, and as you say it, he commands, "Do it, darling. Cum on my gun." As soon as he says it you feel your orgasm coiling deep in your lower belly, your thighs shaking violently.

The aftershocks build and build until finally — finally, he rubs your clit and presses the gun hard against your spot one last time, then you cum with a loud shriek, your thighs closing instinctively around his hand for a moment , and your hips buck, as your walls spasm endlessly, for a long stretched out second he lets you ride the high of your orgasm, when you finally feel yourself settle, he slides the gun out of your pulsing cunt with a loud wet pop and let it settle onto your inner thighs, then he removes his fingers from your clit altogether, and your limb falls loosely on either side of you as you tremble from the after shocks, feeling your nerves metling as if they are coiled in a furnace.

You do as he says, lifting your head a little from the pillow and your heart starts beating loudly in your ears, and you slowly stick out your tongues and trace the barrel of the gun, tasting your own wetness and the iron taste of the metal on it, after a few seconds, you suck it clean completely and fall back onto the pillow.

He grins at you, "good girl", he whispers, then he pulls the gun, closer across his own lips, wrapping his soft mouth around the barrel to mirror your movement. His eyes flutter close as he savour the taste of your arousal and his own cum on the metal, murmuring as he finally removes it from his mouth, "This Requiem is now my lucky charm."

And with a loud groan, he throws it on the far end of the bed and climbs onto the mattress, hovering over you, grabbing your thighs and spreading them wider for the easy access of his cock, for a second, he holds it there breathing heavily and savouring your naked body like a treasure deep inside his mind , before throwing them over his shoulders as you feel yourself getting high again on his cock, and you moan his name again, sobbing, and you feel yourself ready for another round of this, then with the loudest grunt, he speaks, putting the swollen head of his cock against your dripping entrance.

"One last round, darling, open your cunt wide."

Then he slams his cock into you, and the world narrows to this: another hour of tangled limbs, ragged breaths, and the sound of skin on skin, and feeling of love spreading inside your skin.

Jesus, he can’t wait to return to you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

LEON S. KENNEDY DISLIKES NOISY MORNINGS. He likes to keep things quiet. Peaceful. Alone. Moping around and wagging his imaginary tail to see you—wait, what?

“Sweets! I bought sweets.” Leon nuzzled at your peacefully sleeping form after carefully putting the boxes on your dining table and shoving the lattes into your fridge. His arms automatically hooked into your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest, greedily taking your warmth for himself. He felt you moving, settling quite nicely, and making yourself comfortable in his hold.

“You’re noisy.” He heard you mumble in his chest, but he couldn’t care less. Hooking his chin at the top of your head, he breathes in your scent, inhaling the fragrance of your shampoo and your detergent, utterly content with being suffocated by—well—you.

“You act as if I care.” He hummed, taming your messy bedhead with soft pats, gently weaving his fingers through your hair as if patting an incredibly sleepy chinchilla.

Christ, he could melt just by looking at you. You looked adorable. Your naturally pouty lips jutted as your eyes remained closed, looking utterly at peace. Blissfully unaware of your effect on him. He thinks it’s unfair. How you just breathe, and he’s already at your beck and call. How the sun peeks through your windows perfectly frames your figure, making you look utterly devastating. How your hair just cascades perfectly on your shoulders, looking like messy waves that just fit.

How he thinks he wanted to be a little more than just a best friend.

“Mhm, stay.” He felt arms slowly snaking around his body, and he swore his heart rate sped up. He’s sure you heard it, too—with how your face was pressed into his chest. And he would’ve been embarrassed if he hadn’t felt you nuzzle—burying your nose in between his soft pectorals. Each puff of breath was hot, rendering his brain pathetically useless—a putty in your embrace.

“F-for breakfast?” Yeah, real smooth, Leon. What a stuttering sweet-talker you are. Proud of you, son.

“Forever.”

Then you were awake, staring at those huge cerulean eyes that reminded you of the vast seas. Gods, he was beautiful. Would it be too greedy to wish to wake up every morning with this sight? With Leon’s flushed cheeks and soft eyes that scream longing and affection?

Oh wait, maybe you’re projecting.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

LEON S. KENNEDY HATES BEING TIED DOWN. He despises commitments with passion. Almost pukes at the mere mention of it, actually. He doesn’t do all that lovey-dovey shit. He isn’t clingy—hates to be that person, in fact. He likes being alone, surrounded by his thoughts. That’s his favorite pastime, actually. He—okay, what the fuck. Who wrote this? This script is wrong. Someone is getting fired.

The air in the dining room feels light. Comfortable. The rays of the sun softly peeking through, the birds by the windows singing their hearty tune, and Leon taking care of you, just as usual. You like this routine: drinking coffee while chatting with your favorite person, just as the sun rises like a beautiful backdrop.

“Let’s make us official.”

You almost spat your coffee, heart suddenly—*violently—*hammering inside your ribcage, begging to be let out. You think it’s palpitations. The iced Spanish latte does its job at roughhousing your nervous system to the point that you think you’re hallucinating shit at like 7:46 am in the morning. You’re not equipped with the right knowledge for this conversation. It feels like your cells just burst.

“W-what?” You replied, with all the neurons and brain cells working overtime. They’re like three combined, so it’s not really that hard of a job when all you could think about was Katseye’s Gnarly chorus on loop. And maybe your hot-fucking-childhood-best-friend-that-acts-more-like-a-boyfriend-than-best-friend-but-you-digress.

“I mean, we’re not blind. As much as we’d like to deny it, we can’t run away from this conversation forever.” If there was hesitation in Leon’s voice, you couldn’t pinpoint it. And if his hands were mildly trembling beneath the surface of the table, you couldn’t see it. But you’d be damned if you couldn’t feel the tension rapidly resurfacing while the conversation continued.

“I can run away right now.”

“Sweets.”

“Lee.”

Leon sighed, as if he could already feel a headache coming. “I can catch you.”

“I’ll run even faster.” See, your tongue is your greatest enemy here.

“You talk too much.”

“You can shut me up.”

You knew someday that your sharp tongue would be the death of you. You got into so much trouble as a child because of it. Your aunties and uncles often get offended by your blunt words, while your little cousins seem to enjoy it. Your parents often scolded you, urging you to school your sharp tongue and witty replies, specifying it’ll bite you in the ass in the future. You didn’t give a fuck. Little you know who you were from a very young age.

You knew, and you were well-aware.

You just didn’t expect to be bitten right now.

Not that you would complain—oh god, no. You’d die happily.

“What?”

“What?”

Leon was staring at you as if he’d like to do exactly that. You don’t blame him—you’d like to do exactly that, too. You’re just… scared.

Scared to lose him.

Scared to lose the sacred friendship you built since you were in literal diapers.

Scared to mess it up so bad, you’d break up.

Scared to fuck it up, he’d end up lea—

“Whatever you’re thinking of, stop. It won’t happen.” Leon suddenly spoke up, looking at you, even if you avoided it. You hate how he knows you like the back of his hand.

Then, he sighed. Leaning closer towards you, hovering his hand over yours. He doesn’t touch, no. He waits. Patiently. “I won’t let it.” He said, barely a breath louder.

Oh, how you hate how easily he makes your resolve crumble.

You’d pity yourself if only you weren’t exactly where you want to be.

You took a deep breath, looking at his eyes after, letting your fears swirl in your irises and baring your emotions in front of him. It’s just… you weren’t used to being vulnerable, okay? Not when you’ve forced yourself into accepting whatever the fuck life throws in your way, simply choosing to laugh it off rather than to mope somewhere all day.

But this? This sudden vulnerability? This sudden confession—no, it never really was sudden. It had been subtle, yes, but you really shouldn’t have been surprised. You’ve been tiptoeing around—crossed, even—the friendship boundary roughly about a few years ago, after that incident in damned Raccoon City.

Now for the record, choosing to go with Leon to venture to that place was on you. You knew he’d be fucked up, being blacked out drunk the night prior—you would know, you were with him at the bar. You get it, the night he just wanted to forget being dumped by his asshole ex. And well, maybe you just wanted to go to RC because you were curious about his workplace, okay? Sue you for being nosy.

You just haven’t expected it to be, for lack of better terms, infested with rotting undead corpses who wanted you for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.

That definitely wasn’t how you wanted to start your Monday.

“Leon, I…” You felt your nails digging through your palm, leaving crescent indents. It grounded you. “I want to, I really fucking do. I don’t think I have to confess when I’ve always been obvious.” Something dripped, maybe it was crimson from your hands or clear from your eyes. “I’m just scared. So fucking scared.”

You couldn’t face him, swallowed by your cowardly brain, and yet, you couldn’t stop your mouth from speaking every unsaid thought that plagued you. It has a mind of its own.

“I’m scared. What if you wake up one day and realize that I wasn’t the one you’d like to spend your future with? What if you realize that you just settled for the safest option? Because I’m not her, I will never be her—god, fuck! I wanted to be her, but fuck my life, I’m not. I could never do the things she could—I’m basically useless without you. What if I fuck this up? Fuck it up so bad, I’d lose you?”

You were spiraling. Your mind was clouded, as if the dam had been broken and every word was just falling out uncontrollably.

“I like you. No, fucking hell, that’s lackluster. I’m fucking in love with you, and I hate that my stupid brain keeps spewing nonsense and my mouth couldn’t fucking shut up and it’s exposing me!”

And finally, god, finally. Your eyes finally darted at him.

He didn’t look surprised. God, no. It’s so much worse.

He looked soft. As if something unbelievable finally happened. As if he were just waiting for those words to come out of your damn mouth.

“You’re in love with… me?” Leon uttered—no, it was barely a whisper. It was disbelief and relief, all at once. Packaged like a buy-one-get-me-free sale. His soft cerulean eyes were shining with something suspiciously akin to unshed tears. It was apparent, even if he was looking far from you, staring at his now-empty cup and leftover ice.

“Was that all you’ve heard?” While you, you were puzzled. You knew he was a little fucked up, but damn, all those ramblings and that’s all he registered?

As if finally collected his bearings, Leon looked at you, fighting that watery smile that didn’t seem to get off, no matter how hard he tried. “It was all that mattered.” He choked out, biting his lip as a tear finally dropped.

And another.

Then another.

Until it flowed freely like a beautiful waterfall.

“I couldn’t care less. Shit, I just wanted you.” Leon rasped, “Fucking hell, all I’ve ever wanted—no, needed was you.” Trembling, his hands grasped yours, engulfing them whole. He traced little shaky hearts, his fingers still absentmindedly trembling as he stared at your skin, shying away from your gaze.

“All you, Sweets. Always you.” He lifted your hand, prompting it to cup his cheek. With his eyes closed, he melted into your warmth, exhaling a stuttered breath before looking into your eyes. “Always had been, always will be.”

It was whispered.

The promise.

Barely above a whisper.

But the devotion was loud.

Too fucking loud, it echoed through your heart, silencing your stupid brain’s unnecessary provocations.

“You dumb fuck.” You croaked. Before swiftly crossing the table to suffocate in his embrace. You hugged him like he was your lifeline, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his stupefying scent.

Leon did the same, nosing your hair and pulling you to his lap. His head was filled with nothing but you, his arms wrapped in you like a warm cocoon. Peppering light kisses, while his hands fiddled with the ends of your hair, tracing feather-light patterns on your clothed skin. “Your dumb fuck, I suppose?”

“Mine.” You replied, cheekily pecking his neck, feeling the goosebumps run through his spine. “You learn fast.”

“Mhm, shut up.”

Then suddenly, his hand was on your cheek, guiding you towards his plush lips. And damn, you fucking melted, your lips moved as if you were already accustomed to his, moving in sync, like a mad rhythm waiting to be played. The kiss was tender, full of longing and secret devotion shared. It felt like whiskey, something strong, harsh yet addicting. It was heavy with regret—regret of why you haven’t done this much sooner, how you’ve lasted this long without each other’s constant touch, when you’ve realized all you needed was each other, and what’s stopping you from fully destroying the quote-unquote bounder-less boundaries you’ve been too afraid to fully cross.

And was quickly replaced by need—full hunger that aches to restore time that was lost. There was heat when he parted your mouth with his tongue, curling around yours like a waltz that seeks to devour you whole. Your throat bubbles with whines you don’t even bother suppressing, because he drank it with vigor. He kisses you like he was starved, tongue fondling with yours, curling and stroking until your head was fucked and air was a foreign concept for losers.

You felt his large hands grope your ass, snaking down to grab a hold of your thighs, manhandling you so you’re straddling him, clothed drenched cunt to clothed hard cock. It made you whimper, embarrassing sounds escaping your lips while he rolled his hips, catching your clit. Writhing in his hold, your mouth left his as you tugged his shirt, signaling that you want it gone.

He obliged with a husky chuckle, “Impatient, aren’t you? My needy baby.” Leon’s voice dropped an octave lower, swiftly pulling his shirt off to reveal his muscular build. Before your head could catch a fraction of what you were doing, your hands were already tracing his sculptured lines. Nimble hands flying from the sides of his neck, lightly circling his pebbled nipples (which made him stutter a breathless gasp), dropping lower to his chiseled abs, feeling the deep ridges and subtly grinding on his hard cock.

“F-fuck, sweets. Like what you see?”

“Very.”

Oh, maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

Because suddenly, you’re very afraid of what will happen next.

Maybe your legs would cease to work.

Maybe your voice would refuse to come out.

Maybe his cock would be wrung dry.

And maybe you’d like that.

Leon groaned in response, hauling you up with one arm while his other arm busied itself gripping the back of your scalp, under your soft hair, pulling you closer as his tongue bullied yours yet again. Your arms flew to his neck, inching yourself even closer as you felt him move—walking to what you would assume to be your bedroom.

Plopping you down on your bed, you bounced twice—twice too long for Leon, apparently, as he found himself in between your thighs, rip, rip, ripping your clothes to shreds. His hand found purchase in your bra, swiftly unhooking it with a snap. It would’ve been impressive if not for his tongue immediately lapping your pebbled nipple, calloused hand playing and massaging the other one.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, sucking lazy kisses that would for sure bruise. “Y’taste too sweet. Shit, you really are my sweets.” Then, you felt a hazy, sharp pain, looking down to see a bite mark right before your areola—all red and new as he stares at you with hooded eyes. Cerulean eyes that seemed to deepen with each passing second, pupils all blown out and dilated as if you were the only drug he’s willing to indulge in.

Then, he switched to your other nipple, slobbering and giving it the same attention as the other one. Little zigzags as his tongue traced your areola to your hardened nipple. Fuck, it was a mess of spit and bites as he sucked wet kisses down your stomach, fiddling the strings of your sleep shorts and tugging them down with the patience of a saint—well, if the saint was being chased by a rather aggressive wolf in a two-by-two world build.

“Fuckin’ look amazing, gorgeous.” Leon huffed, kissing the side seams of your panties and lifting your thigh, placing it on his broad shoulder, his face lightly pressing your inner thighs as he scattered wet kisses—his light stubble scratching you involuntarily, arching your back with light whines.

His warm puffs of breath tickled you, moaning as your fingers travel to his scalp. “S-stop teasing m—” You stuttered, before a sharp whine catches on the back of your throat.

Fuck, it was hot. His warm tongue lapped the gusset of your drenched panties, tasting you just from the fabric. Desperate licks as he sucked, blunt nails digging through your thighs as your arousal seeps through the ruined cloth. Then, his lips found purchase on your clothed (almost transparent) clit, sucking and sucking with the scratchy—wet—fabric adding the stupefying sensations.

The room was filled with your ah-ah-ah!’s while Leon was having the time of his life in between your legs. It wasn’t until you heard a small rip-rip-rip until ypu realized that oh! you’re fucked.

Leon groaned, immediately devouring your fucking pussy. “Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. Y’ve been keeping t’is from me?” He slurred, tracing your folds with his tongue, fucking you with zigzags that ranged from lazy to vigorous spurts of energy. He eats you out like he was starved and you were the only meal he needed to survive. He flicked his tongue on your clit, swirlin’ and sucking, then going back to your drippy hole where he collects your sweet fuckin’ sap. “Shit—haah—so fuckin’ wet for me—juuuust for me, sweets?”

“C’mon, baby. Gimme more, yeah? Fuuuuuck, y’can gimme more.” Leon rasped, greedily sucking your twitchy, engorged clit, then switching to tongue-fuck your drippy hole, curling and stroking your stretchy walls. While you? You were (s)creaming, throat scratchy with strings of curses, with drool collecting on the corner of your lips—precisely why you barely registered his thick finger entering you, stretching your poor pussy out while his tongue continued to abuse your poor clit. “P-please.”

The burn was insane—insanely fucking delicious, your head was swarming with dizzying pleasure. “F—s-shit, m-more—mhmn—a-aah!” You don't even remember what you were doing, barely even remembering your name. All you could think about was Leon, Leon, Leon.

You felt another finger, scissoring, curling inside your gummy walls. Reaching into the depths of your spongy weakness—making you scream, thrashing into his hold to the point that he has no choice but to wrap his strong arm around your abdomen to halt your involuntary actions.

And then another.

Three fingers, knuckles deep, assaulting your insides—hammering into your fucking g-spot, while his tongue continues to suck the living soul out of your poor hypersensitive nub.

“S-shit, ‘m close—fuuuuuck—‘m close!” You rasped, tugging Leon’s soft locks as your body convulsed—unravelling, coming undone. Eyes rolling back to the back of your skull until all you could see was white, and the coil on your abdomen violently snapping as liquids flew like a damn waterfall.

And Leon? Yeah, he wasn’t done. Still lapping your juices as you spill it all out. Even after your high was released, his mouth was still moving, still making out with your oversensitive pussy, still greedily sucking your juices, even if you tried to pull away, running from his strong embrace. God, no. He just pulls you back even closer, burying his nose in your clit while his tongue circles your hole.

He’s determined to fuck your brains out so good, you’d stop thinking of pointless possibilities that would never fucking happen as long as he’s alive. Why would he think about other women when he’s got you splayed out for him like a fucking five-course meal, just his for taking? Why would he think about the irrelevant fucking future when his past and present were spent with you? All you, baby. All fucking you.

“Oh, fuck—Leon—!!”

Did he say that out loud? Because by the look of it, he did. Your glassy, heart eyes say it so.

“Like that, sweets? That I’m aaaaaall yours? Yeah?” Leon grunts, standing up so he could hover over you, kissing you, all spit, come, and tongue. His tongue—god, his tongue, you love his fucking tongue—coiled around yours. Fucking your mouth while his hand unbuckled his belt, tugging off his pants in a swift motion. You caught sight of his drenched boxers, spurts of wetness visible through the grey fabric. It made you whine on his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you basked in the sensation.

“Bet you fuckin’ loved that, didn’t you, sweetheart? Loved the fact that I came untouched by eating you out, mhm?” He whispered on your lips, slightly pulling away as his lips reattached to your neck, sucking and kissing deep reds and purples once more. “Didn't even need to grind, fuck, y’r cunt’s allll I need, baby. Drives me fuckin’ insane.”

Just as quickly, you felt something hard and hot pulsing on your fluttering cunt. Blinking—willing your eyes to open, you saw his massive cock—long, pretty, veiny and fucking girthy as you swallowed dry. Shivers traveled down your spine, suddenly very fuckin’ afraid if it’ll even fit.

Leon chuckled, as if sensing your hesitation. His hand moved to cup your cheek while his other traced circles in your hips, grounding you. “It’ll fit, baby. I’ll make it fit.” His tone was soft, his thumb caressing your cheek as he wills you to look at his eyes—but damn, his words were nasty. “Gonna make sure y’r head’s full of my cock, my pretty baby. Y’like that?”

See, you would’ve responded. All sweet and high-pitchy. Instead, moans were the only thing that left your lips when you felt his cock nudge your outer lips, teasing your cunt as you felt Leon spreading your legs further, bullying your cunt until his tip finally fuckin’ entered your stretchy hole.

“F-fuhck! Mhmnn—!!” You stuttered, already feelin’ fucking full. Still too hypersensitive from your earlier release. “S’jus the t-tip?”

It made Leon puff out a breathy chuckle, moving his hips little by little, small thrusts to fit snugly inside you. “Y-yeah, baby. Still jus’ the tip. ‘m sure y’can fit more inches here, yeah?” He drawled out, his fingers tracing to what he would assume to be where his dick would fit. “J-jus’ tell me if y’need a break, ‘kay?”

Then he thrusts, parting your gummy walls, impaling you with his thick, veiny cock fully. And you did nothing but take it, enjoying every second of being fucked dumb by Leon and hearing his damn cute whines. He wasn't afraid to be vocal, oh god no. He was loud. Groaning with each mean thrust on your cunt—whining as he repeatedly pounds your g-spot, making you drool on your sheets.

“Y-yeah? L-like that, baby? Oh fuuck—” Cutting himself off with a groan, he felt you clench—squeezing his damn cock so tight, he had to will himself not to cum that fast. “Sweet girl, you're—ngh—y’r fuckin’ suffocatin’ me.”

You did nothin’ but whimper, and he did nothin’ but take you to pound town.

Leon’s stamina was more than fucking impressive; his unrelenting thrusts were constant and damn consistent, roughly loving and disrespecting you all at the same time. You felt stuffed to the brim with his thick shaft, his calloused thumb traveling to rub mean circles on your clit as you moaned for mercy. The repeated plap-plap-plap of his skin slapping yours was nasty, and his erratic ministrations of your body felt like heaven. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Yeah, b-baby? Fuuuuuuckin’ think you could stay like t’is for—nghh!—forever?” He groaned at the shell of your ear, darting his tongue to flick at the sensitive lobe. “Think ‘m doin’ somethin’ wrong, y’shouldn’t be thinkin’ at alllll.” He croons, tone deep and mocking, manhandling your thighs, folding you in half.

“Wha—Lee!! Oh fuck, Leoooooon—!!” All you could do was squeak, your voice going an octave higher—something you didn’t even know you were capable of, as he jackhammers into your cunt. Fucking you senseless and so utterly stupid, abusing your spongy g-spot with precise thrusts. And you could only retaliate by fucking up his back, scratching while your back gives out.

You swore you heard him whimper in delight.

Your five senses consist of staring at Leon’s fucked out face, smelling Leon’s heady scent, tasting your cum and Leon’s saliva still on your lips, hearing Leon’s sharp grunts and gasps—occasionally his small whimpers as he hits a rather deep spot, and—fuck—feeling Leon’s thick cock spearheading your tight cunt, feeling him twitch as his veins tickled your insides.

Yeah, you won’t be walking, alright.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

LEON S. KENNEDY IS ALL OF THOSE THINGS, BUT MAYBE THERE MIGHT BE EXCEPTIONS (YOU).

“Fuck you, Kennedy. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!” You groaned, the feeling of your legs still not returning after a day and a half of full bed rest.

The person charged guilty was found chuckling, eating ice cream, and faaaaaar away from where your wrath could grasp him in the neck (he’d like that). “Ouch, babe. Kennedy? Seriously? Who’s that?”

Aaaaaand then ducking, as if he could already feel the pillow heading toward his head without directly looking at it.

“Fuck you and your stupid fucking stamina and your stupid fucking words—ugh! I am never sleeping with you ever again!”

“You kiss your boyfie with that potty mouth?” He whistled, “Damn.”

“Oh, you dick!” You threw him your plushy, the same thing he gave a few years ago—all purpley and stupid. Cute, but stupid.

“Nine inches, baby. And a grower—hey! Not my child.” Leon pouted, catching the plushy with both hands, then patting in the head as if it truly had feelings.

“Fuckin’ suffocate!”

“In those thighs? Bet.”

“Asshole—!!”

“We could try that, too.”

“Urgh!” You threw your hands up, huffing, as you slumped back in your (thank god wasn’t broken) bed.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

imsorryimsorryimsorryiwantmore holy fuck i don't know what i wrote and in my defense, my hands started typing shit before i even realized what i was doing okay okay. (did u enjoy it tho? teehee) rbs and comms are greatly appreciated! i work well with praise wink wink wink

── sub!leon who has a fixation on your breasts; he can’t stop kneading and clawing at them, they’re so soft

his tongue brushes against your nipple, up and down, and around in a circle. his hand squeezes at pulls at your other breast, gently with warm hands. he hums and moans against your skin, taking pleasure in tasting your skin.

── sub!leon who begs for you to stop overstimulating him, but still never uses his safe word

“please, please. i can’t take it,” he whines. his eyes are screwed shut, his mouth hung open, and his limbs twitching. “go on, then, say the magic word,” you tease. your thumb circles his sopping tip in an agonizing pace. he sobs, his back arching as he shakes his head, “no, please!”

── sub!leon who worships your body

his hands softly graze down your body, his eyes wide in awe. “you’re so beautiful, holy shit,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to your torso.

── sub!leon who grows weak at praise

“such a good boy,” you mumble, your nails lightly scratching his scalp. he hums, burying his face into your neck. “so pretty, such a sweet boy,” you continue. he whines, bucking his hips into your stomach. “god,” he whispers.

── sub!leon who comes in his pants

your hips grind on his, harsh and quick. “oh, f-fuck,” he moans, head thrown back. his hands squeeze your clothed hips, surely to leave bruises. the rough friction of his jeans against him causes him to shudder and whine, a mix of pleasure and discomfort. his back arches as he feels himself growing close, “i’m gon—i’m coming!“

── sub!leon who sometimes calls you mommy