muse [scene i] ☆ leon s. kennedy

✮ synopsis: leon's a very patient man. he lets you have your fun teasing him, but he knows where you'll be by the end of the night. he's confident in a way that goes without saying, and it doesn't take him long before he's got you wrapped around his thumb.

✮ warnings: fem. reader, heavy objectification, use of pet names, power dynamics/pwr. struggle, manhandling, hair pulling, language, explicit content, dirty talk, m. masturbation + facial, dumbification, pwp

✮ word count: 7k

truth be told, leon wasn't bothered by your sly little comments that were meant to rouse his temper. no, he was perfectly fine with you running your pretty little mouth, a few old mans here and there never bothered him much. he'd let you have your fun, give him that shit-eating little grin and teasing eye roll that never failed to make his mouth twitch up in a smile.

leon's quite patient and he humors you more than he probably should, but beneath his calm and composed exterior lies a man who's very aware of himself. perhaps when he was younger he might've felt a little dejected and maybe even taken comments like that to heart, but now that he's older— and more experienced (in more ways than one) he'd half a mind to start cracking jokes with you.

as much as leon loves to see how amused you seem to be teasing him like this, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting to wipe that smug little grin off your face. luckily for you, leon's a good sport and doesn't take any of what you say to heart, mainly because he knows where you'll be by the end of the night.

leon isn't particularly cocky, but he's certainly not oblivious. he knows your true objective isn't to make him feel bad, but it's also not to tease him, either— no, he knows what you really want. leon sees that little sparkle in your eyes whenever he scoffs or groans at your teasing comments, or the way you smirk before pondering what to say next. your calculated, premeditative train of thought is something he is no stranger to, but he'll humor you— for now.

and so, he'll intentionally let those little comments accumulate right up until he decides he's had enough of you and your chatting.

"hey leon, don'cha think you should go see a chiropractor? your posture is... well," you chirp, eyes glazing over his figure sitting hunched over at the dining table, practically devouring the food you'd prepared for him after a long day of monotonous paper filing at the dso. leon has to hold back a snort at that, his mouth twitching up at the corners as he cuts the last bit of chicken breast into a bite-sized piece.

leon gulps down the small piece he'd been chewing, humming in satisfaction at the rather delicious meal you'd provided for him. it's a pity you couldn't hold your tongue while he enthusiastically cleaned his plate. at the very least you were entertaining him, so it's not as annoying as you hoped it'd be. "chicken's good," he says plainly, setting his knife and fork down atop the now clean plate before pushing up from the table. he stands with a low grunt, bones popping as he rolls his shoulders back slightly, making his way over to the sink to clean his dish. well damn, maybe he did need to see a chiro...

you pout slightly at his disregard for your earlier comment, eyes narrowing slightly as he walks past you to clean his dish. you scoff to yourself, hands crossing against your chest in disbelief. is he really ignoring you...? you shake your head in denial before turning on your heel, watching how his muscles flex as he rinses his plate. before you can even attempt to force out a retort, leon’s deep voice is already rumbling through your ears.

"what were you saying?" he starts, clearing his throat as he begins lathering soap in his hands. you raise a brow at his back in question, rolling your eyes in defiance at his flippant tone.

"are you that hard of hearing?" you replied sarcastically, a scoff escaping you as you lean your hip against the table behind you. you chuckle quietly, lips curling up into a smirk when he pauses his movements. leon exhales softly, resuming his actions as he realizes this will be yet another night of you playing with him. usually leon could handle your snide little comments and playful teasing, but he’d had a long fucking day in the office. despite this, leon is still a very patient, merciful man. he’ll give you the chance to stop while you’re ahead.

leon turns the faucet off slowly, twisting the handle with ease and reaching for the dish towel to dry his hands. he’s still for a moment, simply holding the towel in his hands before neatly folding it and setting it down. it’s a little eery just how composed he is; you almost feel nervous. leon was always very calm under pressure—not that you were much pressure to him, but you certainly knew how to push him. you bite your lip, tension filling the air around you with each passing second.

when leon finally turns to you, his gaze feels borderline oppressive. he’s not reactive, but his piercing blue eyes hold such a powerful weight that it’s like he’s already got you pinned in place. leon’s not a man of many words. he prefers to assert himself through his actions, and it’s surprising just how little he has to do to have you complacent for him. despite this, he knows it’s not that easy with you. it usually never is, but he certainly doesn’t mind it.

"no, i heard you," he starts softly, almost endearing, mirroring your stance and leaning against the counter with his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he watched you. "but i'll give you a chance to correct yourself." he warns, tilting his head slightly as he waits for your response. of course, leon knows you won't behave, he's already got you figured out. but what kind of partner would he be if he didn't at least offer you a chance at redemption?

like clockwork, you let out a tiny scoff at his peace offering, rolling your eyes so hard you're almost scared they might get stuck like that. leon raises a brow at you, adjusting himself on the counter while monitoring your every move.

"correct myself?" you repeat, your tone amused, almost in disbelief that he'd ask you such a question. leon's lips curve into a smirk, the kind of smirk that exudes confidence and promises consequences. he's actually quite glad you choose the hard way out every time, it was always satisfying to watch it all crumble down once he gets you to stop running that mouth of yours.

"need me to spell it out for you?" he says firmly, jaw tightening slightly as he observes the cocky smirk that graces your pretty features. he tilts his head slightly, biceps bulging deliciously against his chest where they're crossed. of course you're enjoying this, of course you want him to spell it out for you. leon's a patient man, but he's more than willing to dish out consequences for someone like you who insists on pushing his limits.

"dunno," you drawl, dragging the word out with that same teasing, amused lilt, "maybe you do," you tease, a quiet giggle escaping from your throat as you stare him down, biting your lip in anticipation when you see him exhale slowly. god, did you love riling him up. it did something sinful to you to see him go from composed to bothered by you.

unbeknowst to you, however, leon's not too keen on giving you that satisfaction; he'll do what he has to to keep you in order, but he'll stay just as composed as he was prior to all this.

"you’re a fuckin’ brat." he grits out, uncrossing his arms slowly to make his way over to you. you watch as he walks over with controlled, practiced steps, your eyes shamelessly raking over his broad form. you trail them down slowly, taking your time as he nears closer, scanning over the obvious bulge in his tactical pants, the strain of his too-shirt against his beefy biceps, and finally flitting back up to meet his intense gaze.

he's close, almost too close, hands on either side of the kitchen table as he towers over your frame. it's almost intimidating how big he is, how easy it is for him to overpower you, and perhaps that's what makes this game of cat and mouse all the more fun. your breath hitches with the way he's staring at you, his icy eyes tracking every one of your actions like you were his prey.

"say another word." he dares, getting in your face, leaning in as close as he could. you let out a shaky breath, a tiny smile pulling at your lips as you stare into his eyes with a hint of mischief present in their midst.

"another word," you challenge, raising a brow and pursing your lips teasingly while batting your lashes enticingly at him. he nods sardonically, almost pleased at your decision, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets out a breathy chuckle. he moves down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, humming lowly as he inhales sharply, sending a shiver up your spine.

his head dips lower, lips ghosting over your neck as he presses more tiny, open-mouth kisses to the heated skin. you squeal a little bit, the sensation slightly tickling the skin of your neck as your hands slowly reach to grip the table behind you. something about leon's calmness was deeply unsettling, like he was a stick of dynamite that had just been lit and was slowly inching closer to exploding. you breathe out raggedly, heart thumping wildly in your chest as he pulls back to meet your gaze once more.

"mm. good one, baby," he starts, voice deceptively soft, almost affectionate. his hand comes up slowly, knuckles grazing the soft skin of your cheeks as he stares into your eyes like he's already got your fate mapped out for tonight. "but you should've held your tongue." he finishes, voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always sends heat straight through you.

in an instant, leon's pushing you to the side, hand on your chest shoving you down on the floor. you stumble slightly, hand reaching out to steady yourself as his hands roughly grab ahold of your shoulders before adjusting you to his liking. it rips a surprised yelp from you, leaving you scrambling for a bit before you gather your bearings. despite the struggle, he finally has you on your knees before him, a steady hand on your shoulder as he stares down at you. you stare back defiantly, eyes shooting daggers at him for handling you so roughly. before you can even fix your lips to spit out another sassy remark, leon is quick to quiet you.

his large hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back roughly so that you have no choice but to fucking listen to him. he tuts, shaking his head at your insistent need to defy him, his eyes piercing into your wide ones below him. "shhh, let's be smart here, baby. you're a smart girl, aren't you?" he asks, his voice tender, almost affectionate, but you know deep down he means the exact opposite. your brows pull together, mouth wide in shock just from how quickly the tables turned on you. literally. you blink dumbly, eyes glossy from the hold he has on your hair.

his grip on your hair tightens at your silence, making you wince at the strain on your scalp. you whimper slightly, nodding in his grasp as best you could. he hums, hand leaving your hair in favor of grasping your jaw, rubbing soft circles into the heated skin. he doesn't bother asking for a verbal response, he already knows you're so fucked out for him that the only thing he needs you to focus on right now is shutting the hell up.

you're still dumbfounded, eyes hazy as you stare up at him in awe, lips parted and chest heaving at his change in demeanor. leon's thumb travels, the digit dragging across your bottom lip before slipping inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. you quickly obey him, wrapping your lips around the digit, eyes never leaving his as you suckle his thumb into your mouth.

leon’s gaze burns down at you, his gaze intimidatingly tender, the blue of his eyes almost completely swallowed by his dark pupils.

"'s a shame the only time you're quiet is when i put you on your fuckin' knees," he murmurs, voice thick with lust. he lets you keep sucking for a few more seconds, thumb pressing down on your tongue, before he finally pulls it free with a wet pop.

your breathing comes out a little more ragged, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you wait eagerly for his next move. leon just stares down at you, analyzing every little movement and micro expression on your face before he finally concludes that you love this. you're practically shaking with anticipation, you're giddy like your efforts have finally paid off from all those snide comments and teasing little smirks, and he finds it utterly infuriating. no, he won't give you what you want this easily, not without making you suffer a little bit.

"i see what's going on here," he starts, tilting his head as he observes you beneath him. your brows furrow, a small pout making its way onto your lips at his sudden change. it was starting to make you a little frustrated with how hot and cold he was being. "you're not nearly as smart as you think you are, baby," he declares, hands moving to unbuckle his belt. his eyes never leave yours, although yours are now transfixed on the way his deft hands easily guide the belt out of the loop.

your eyes trail back up to his, his piercing orbs already staring you down as he unbuttons his pants. "leon..." you murmur quietly, needy eyes silently pleading for him to get a move on. you shift impatiently on your heels, letting out a few exasperated breaths every now and then with how slow he was moving things along.

leon grunts in annoyance, hand reaching out to grasp your cheeks before leaning down to your level to whisper harshly, "behave." he commands, squishing your cheeks in his grip before giving you a long, stern glare that almost dares you to disobey him. you still, gulping slightly at how fucking intimidating he is. he's incredibly calm, too calm, but his movements are sharp and rough— a dizzying contrast that nearly gives you whiplash from how confusing it all is.

he huffs, hand leaving your jaw before rising to his feet once more. his hands return to the task at hand, finally shoving his pants down his thighs along with his boxers. his cock springs free, heavy and flushed dark at the tip, and your mouth actually waters at the sight. you instinctively reach for him, hand just short of gripping the base before leon grips your wrist tightly. you pause, eyes flitting up to his in confusion.

"uh-uh." he tsks, voice low and disapproving, pushing your hand back down to your side. "you don't get to touch. you lost that privilege right when you opened that pretty little mouth." he says, his own hand gripping his cock at the base before giving it a slow upward stroke. he exhales lowly, squeezing himself once his hand strokes over the sensitive part just below his aching tip. his hips buck slightly, hand twisting around his cock as he passes over the sticky head, smearing the precum that had collected there all over his shaft.

he groans shamelessly, eyes flitting back to yours that only stare up at him in utter disbelief of the situation right now. you look painfully needy, eyebrows threaded together and mouth deeply frowned from his complete disregard of you. your eyes are glassy as they stare into his, hands gripping the bottom of your shirt tightly in your grip as you try to calm yourself. his eyes light up briefly, a breathy chuckle leaving him as a new idea crosses his mind.

"leon—" you start, biting your lip in frustration when he interrupts you.

"i don't wanna hear it, sweetheart," he interrupts, voice dropping into that dangerous register that makes your stomach flip. "had your chance, didn't you?" he grips your jaw, thumb pressing against your lower lip, spreading your mouth open for him. he holds you like that, inspecting you, while his other hand gives a slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip. he groans lowly, gripping himself tighter as filthy, depraved thoughts begin to cloud his mind. god, he can't wait to see you crying for him.

"fuck... pretty thing," he says, tilting your head in his grip, eyes raking over your fucked-out face as he languidly strokes himself to you. leon doesn't rush, he takes his time savoring your pretty face, eyes traveling down your body as his grip tightens around his cock. his breathing stays even and controlled as he works himself with unhurried strokes.

he's studying you— examining you like you're an exhibit, like a work of art curated solely for his enjoyment. his thumb drags along your lower lip, dipping inside your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. you tried to suck his thumb again, but he just pulls it back out to smear your spit over your lips, watching the way it shines under the light.

your breath hitches at how dirty the situation feels, how he's using you as an object of his pleasure, like a muse to fulfill his own filthy desires. you almost feel like you should feel offended, but you can't help the way your cunt clenches at how little he cares for your pleasure right now. it's borderline sadistic, enjoying the way he ogles you so shamelessly, inspecting you like you're his personal form of pornography.

"why don't you pull that shirt up for me, baby?" he coaxes, voice soft yet firm, the question more a command than a request. he works himself a little faster now, thumb brushing over the slit of his leaking tip, moaning deeply at the sensation.

you hesitate, hands trembling at your sides, and he slows his strokes just enough to make you feel like you weren't doing it for him, humiliating you in a way that has you regretting every decision you'd made that led up to this. you hate that you want to please him, to be the object of his desire, but you quite literally have no choice but to do as he says. he's got you cornered, you'll admit it. even if you don't get anything out of it, you'll be equally as satisfied knowing leon used you as a visual for his own pleasure.

"leon, i— can we—" you try, nervously twiddling your fingers as you begin to feel a little embarrassed at his shamelessness. he's quick to shut you down, further breaking down your defenses as his deep, gravelly voice cuts through your small, shaky one.

"uh-uh, be quiet. come on, sweetheart," he murmurs, gentle and consistently patient despite your pushback. "let's see those tits," he commands casually, like he's simply asking you to do the most mundane task in the world. his thumb strokes your cheek, tender, doting— a stark contrast to how clipped his tone is with you. you know he's not asking, he's telling, almost daring you to defy him lest you drag this out any longer.

you gulp thickly, hands finally moving to raise your shirt up slowly, staring into his eyes that watch every movement of yours meticulously. he raises a brow when you pause, giving you a knowing glare that practically forces you to continue. with that, you finally pull your shirt up and over your chest, your tits bouncing softly when they're exposed from the thin material of your shirt.

leon's eyes immediately flicker down, his grip on your jaw loosening slightly while his hand closes around his cock tighter. he strokes your cheek softly, groaning deep in his throat when your nipples pebble from the cool air in the kitchen.

"fuck, that's better," he hums in approval, resuming his previous steady pace, his eyes drinking you in with something like wonder. "look at these tits..." he groans, eyes raking over your chest shamelessly as he tugs on his cock. his eyes flicker back up to your face, that same needy expression present on your features along with something that almost looks like... embarrassment? leon's cock twitches slightly in his grip, thumb working its way back to the corner of your mouth as he begins to stroke himself faster.

"my pretty thing," he sighs, voice warm despite the way he was so clearly talking down to you, "always did know how to make yourself useful when you want to," he hums, now steadily stroking his cock and twisting his wrist with every downstroke. his thumb returns to your mouth yet again, dipping inside and coaxing you to suck once more.

you oblige, humming around the digit as you swirl your tongue obscenely. leon groans deep in his chest, forcing his finger further into your mouth, making you gag slightly. he tsks lowly, pulling his thumb from your mouth once more. this time, leon’s gaze falls back to your chest where you’re still obediently holding your shirt up for him.

"fuck... just take it off, won't you, baby?" he asks sweetly, eyes fixated on your pretty tits that rise and fall with every short breath you take. you nod slowly, fingers trembling just a little as you tug the shirt the rest of the way up and off, letting it drop somewhere behind you on the kitchen floor.

the cool air kisses your top half, making your nipples tighten even more under his heavy gaze. leon’s eyes darken, pupils blown wide as he drinks in the sight of you bare from the waist up, kneeling obediently at his feet. your hands settle on the outside on your thighs, fingernails digging crescents into the soft skin as you stare up at him pleadingly.

"pretty fuckin' picture," he sucks in a breath at the sight, trailing his hand down to your left nipple that’s practically begging to be pinched. with the thumb that was previously in your mouth, he rubs small circles over your areola, the wetness of your own saliva coating the bud. you gasp sharply, the stimulation sending sparks straight to your core.

"god, sweetheart, if you could see yourself right now. shit, you're cute." he groans, continuing his ministrations on the sensitive flesh, smearing your spit across your nipple until the bud stiffens to a sharp peak beneath the wet pad of his finger. he tugs on the sensitive bud firmly, trapping it between his thumb and forefinger while pinching softly.

your back arches instinctively, pushing your chest closer to his hand like you can’t help it, and that only makes his cock twitch hard in his fist. you mewl, eyebrows threading together in pleasure from the electric feeling of his hands on your skin. you feel so pathetic under him, squirming from something as little as this.

you shift on your heels, the floor cold and unforgiving against your poor kneecaps, and the ghost of leon's thumb circling your nipple has you whimpering before you can stop yourself. your eyes flutter shut for a bit, trying to ground yourself despite how unforgiving he's toying with you right now. he tsks quietly, shaking his head in disappointment.

"eyes on me, baby," he commands softly. you open your eyes, your gaze settling back to his face. your lips part on a shaky exhale, and he coos at you softly when you obey him, finger still working your nipple slowly. suddenly, his thumb pinches your nipple harshly and you yelp, hips jerking forward involuntarily at the pleasurable, yet painful sensation.

"mmh-mh." he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you in disapproval. "stay still for me." he finishes, soothing your bud with slow, languid strokes that only make the situation worse. you were nearly about to cry, you were so frustrated. you feel your slick soaking through your panties, the wet heat of it almost unbearable, and you'd give anything— literally, anything— to just touch him. you don't even care about your own pleasure anymore, all that was on your mind was leon and his cock. just as he had planned.

"leon, please—" you beg, eyes watering and bottom lip quivering slightly at his dismissal of your pleas. he tuts, stilling his movements for a brief second.

"what'd i say about you runnin' that mouth?" his hand abandons your breast to grip your chin again, tilting your face up at a sharper angle so you have no choice but to watch him. his other hand resumes its movements, slick sounds filling the quiet kitchen obscenely as you gaze up at him, eyes watery. "you just sit there and look pretty. that's all you gotta do. can you do that for me, sweetheart?" he asks, waiting for your pretty lips to form a response for him, if you even can. you feel so helpless, so small under him that all you can do is sigh in frustration.

you bite the inside of your cheek, hands clammy and panties uncomfortably wet, but you nod anyways despite the growing agitation in your veins. god only knows how long he'd drag this out if you dared to talk back to him now. he hums his approval, thumb stroking along your jaw like he's comforting a kicked puppy.

it feels as if you're just an object now—a little plaything for his pleasure, something whose sole purpose is to just get him off while you sit there and take it. despite your frustration, you couldn't deny how much it was turning you on, but you hate how much you're enjoying it— the way he shamelessly ogles you for his viewing pleasure, tilting your head as if he were inspecting a rare artifact. annoyed as you are, you almost feel like you were made for this. and perhaps that's exactly what leon wants you to feel right now.

leon's pace picks up a fraction, hand working his cock faster as he watches you struggle to stay still beneath him. stubborn as you are, leon's confident in you. he knows you'll do as he says, you've got no choice at this point. he chuckles lowly as you ogle his cock, almost looking dazed as he thumbs at the globs of precum glistening on his tip.

"yeah? you like watching me, baby? like seein' what your pretty mouth coulda earned if you knew how to fuckin' use it?" he says, his tone deceptively tender and sweet despite his harsh, teasing words that have your heart working overtime at how filthy he was being. a whine claws its way up your throat before you can stop it, and leon's mouth twitches into a satisfied smirk that has you cursing him out silently in your head.

"pretty little mess," he sighs, and the sigh is appreciative, almost reverent, like he's admiring his work—and technically, this was his doing. he's broken down all those layers of defiance and has reduced you to nothing but those tiny little whimpers and whines that show just how well he has you under his control. it's poetic, really— how easily he can strip away every ounce of resistance from you and leave you embarrassingly pathetic beneath him. he'd call this his favorite performance art.

"wanna know what i was thinking about all day?" he asks, conversational, like he's discussing something as simple as the weather, even as his voice has gotten a little ragged around the edges. his hand settles at the nape of your neck, fingers gingerly scratching against your scalp, a breathy exhale escaping you at his gentle touch. "sitting in that office, filing the same goddamn report for the third time 'cause sherry kept kicking it back, and you know what i kept thinkin' about?" he grits out, voice strained while he works his cock faster, the wet sound of it making your mouth water shamefully.

you shake your head, eyes wide and curious as you maintain heavy eye contact with him. you shift slightly, biting your lip at how fast he’s stroking himself now.

"i kept thinking about how badly you need somethin' to shut you up." his voice drops to almost a whisper, lips parting as a soft groan interrupts him. "kept thinking about coming home and finding some reason to get you down on your fuckin' knees for me," he admits shamelessly, and you can just feel how hot your cheeks are. it’s embarrassing to think about, knowing that his thoughts about you aren’t the sweet, lovey-dovey ones—but instead they’re filthy, almost degrading—and your stomach swirls uncomfortably at the realization.

"mm, but you, sweet thing?" he says condescendingly, a breathy laugh escaping him. "you handed it right to me on a goddamn silver platter." he goads, and ironic as it is, after literally preparing his dinner and handing him a plate, that wasn’t the first or last thing you handed to him. your dignity was the second tonight.

he pushes his hips forward slightly, just enough that the tip of his cock is nearly grazing your cheek, the heat of him radiating against your skin. you can feel the wetness leaking from him, almost but not quite smearing against the corner of your mouth, and your tongue darts out instinctively to chase it.

leon catches the movement and tsks, pulling his hips back just out of reach. your whine is immediate, pathetic, your hands fisting at your sides where they're balled against your thighs. "uh-uh." he shakes his head, the corners of his lips curling up in a cruel smirk. "you didn't earn that, baby." he chides, massaging your scalp with soft little scratches that have your thoughts all muddled and conflicted. he's driving you insane, and yet you still find yourself seeking his validation, yearning for his approval. the mind-numbingly addictive mix of him doting on you while degrading you in the same sentence is enough to drive you up a fucking wall.

"please—" the word rips out of you before you can stop it, hoarse and wrecked and humiliating in how needy it sounds. "leon, please, i—i'll be good, i swear—" you plead, tears welling in your eyes from his cruelty. leon's stare is intense, overbearing as he ogles your pathetic form beneath him.

his hand tightens in your hair at your mindless begging, tugging at the strands harshly and forcing a soft whimper from you. that gets a reaction—his jaw clenches, his fist falters around himself for the briefest second, and his cock visibly twitches in his grip, leaking another fat pearl that rolls slow down the underside.

"oh, now you want to be good," his voice is wrecked, lower, gravelly, the calm fraying at the seams. he's close, each tug on his cock pushing him further towards the edge and slowly breaking away at his composure. "now that i've got my cock out and you're crying on my kitchen floor. now you want to be good for me?" he asks, brows raised as if he was offended you even dared to beg him for forgiveness.

you nod frantically, tears finally spilling over and rolling hot down your cheeks. "i'll be good, leon, i—i'll be so good, please, please just—" you beg, eyes glossy and voice raspy from how tight your throat feels. you're crying, actually crying from how frustrated you are, biting your lip painfully hard to stop any more tears from escaping.

"shhh," he shushes, cooing at you softly as he takes in the look of desperation on your face. his thumb catches one of the tears, wiping away the salty stream and smearing it over your cheekbone, almost as if he was marking you. "i know, baby. i know you will. you always do, once we get to this part." his fist resumes its pace, his wrist working faster and in tight little twists at the head that have his breath catching audibly.

his stomach muscles tense where you can see the sliver of skin through the bottom of his shirt, the dark trail of hair leading down from his abdomen slick with sweat. his thighs flex, the veins corded along the beefy flesh bulging beneath the bunched fabric of his pants where they've fallen mid-thigh. he's right on the edge, his breaths coming out sharp and groans growing more frequent with each passing second.

"open." he commands, voice ragged. "mouth open, tongue out. and don't you fuckin' move." leon’s hand moves faster along his slick cock, the wet, filthy sound of it filling the kitchen. his other hand stays buried in your hair, holding you perfectly still exactly where he wants you.

you obey instantly, jaw dropping wide, tongue lolling out enthusiastically. a fresh wave of humiliation washes over you at how eager you must look, at how shamelessly you're offering yourself up, but the moment your tongue is out his groan is guttural, deep in his chest, and you feel your aching cunt clench at the heavenly sound. any humiliation you felt was quickly replaced with determination, the need to please, and ultimately, the desire to taste his cum on your tongue.

"fuck. fuckin' look at you." his eyes are locked on your open mouth, his fist a blur with how fast he's stroking himself now, the wet sound of it filthy in the quiet kitchen. "mm-hm, knew you needed to be used like this. knew it the second you opened that fuckin’ mouth. should've done this ages ago." he spits, hand tugging at your hair slightly, angling your head back so that he's got the perfect angle when he shoots his load all over your pretty face.

he steps closer, the tip of his cock now hovering just above your tongue, close enough that you can literally almost taste him if you moved forward even an inch. your jaw aches from holding it open, drool pooling at the corners of your lips, but you don't dare close it, forcing yourself to keep your mouth open and ready for his load.

"fuck, gonna give you somethin'—shit—real nice, baby," he pants, hand fisting tight at the crown of your skull. "fuck, baby—gonna paint that pretty fuckin' face. you want that? want my cum all over you?" he asks, hips bucking into his hand with each fast, slick stroke.

a desperate, garbled sound leaves your open mouth, as close as you can get it to a 'yes' without closing your mouth. tears are streaming freely down your cheeks now, your nipples are aching, your cunt is throbbing, and you have never, ever, wanted anything as badly as you want leon to cum on your face right now.

leon's hips stutter, a sharp, ragged groan punching out of him. "yeah— fuck, yeah… that's it, mm-hm, just like that—stick that fuckin' tongue out for me—" his fist works frantically now, the head of his cock a deep, angry red, his balls drawing up tight. you watch his abs clench, watch the veins in his neck strain, watch his eyes go almost black with lust as he stares down at you with the kind of hunger that makes you feel utterly devoured.

"shit— shit, baby, fuck,—" he moans, head lolling back as the first few knots in his lower abdomen begin to uncoil.

he comes with a low, broken groan that he doesn't even try to muffle, and the first thick rope of it landing hot across your cheek and the bridge of your nose. you flinch instinctively but his hand in your hair holds you steady, his hips jerking, his fist milking himself through it as the second spurt paints your lips and tongue, the third striping down your chin and dripping warm onto your collarbone.

his cock pulses in his fist, his cum thick, heavy, and hot as it drips down your face, painting you in stripes that he watches with hooded, hungry eyes. some of it catches on your eyelashes, some pools in the crevice of your collarbone, and the rest drips slowly down the swell of your breasts—his cum glistening on your skin like a signature across his newly finished masterpiece.

"fuck. fuck, look at that. look at you," he breathes, his voice almost reverent now, nearly broken from the intensity of his orgasm. his fist slows, milking the last few drops out onto your tongue, and you instinctively close your lips around the head when he presses it against your lips, suckling soft and obedient just like he taught you to.

he hisses through his teeth, hips twitching at the oversensitivity, but he lets you. lets you suck him clean, your tongue gently lapping at the slit until there's nothing left, until he's finally softening against your tongue. when he finally pulls free, the head of his cock leaves a wet, glistening smear across your bottom lip. his thumb is there immediately, dragging through the mess on your chin, gathering it up, and pressing it back between your lips for you to take.

"swallow it. all of it. don't you waste a fuckin' drop, sweetheart." he commands, forcing his finger into your mouth, humming in satisfaction when you eagerly take the cum-covered digit. you swallow around his thumb, eyes locked on his and tears drying on your cheeks. you feel his cum drying on your chest, feel it sticky on your face, and you have never felt more claimed than you do right now.

leon's chest is heaving, his hair stuck damp to his forehead, jaw slack, eyes blown wide, and soft, satisfied hums leave his as lips as he watches you swallow his load. god, it's something you want to commit to your memory for the rest of your life.

"good fuckin' girl," he praises, his breathing steadying out as he finally catches his breath from his orgasm. his thumb drags out of your mouth, slides through the cum on your cheek, and presses it back between your lips one more time just to watch you suck it clean. "my fucking girl. there she is." he says, affectionate, and you hum appreciatively around the digit, something warm swelling in your chest from how sweetly he was praising you.

his hand smooths down from your hair to cup your cheek, and his eyes finally soften, thumb stroking soft little circles into the skin despite the now dried cum that rests there like a brand. "you with me, baby?" he murmurs, thumb stroking through the mess on your cheek almost tenderly. "you okay?" he asks sincerely, eyes searching yours for any form of discomfort that could've been present.

you nod, dazed, blinking up at him through wet lashes. your voice, albeit tiny and ragged, finally manages a small, "i'm okay," and leon exhales in relief, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair tenderly.

"yeah?" the smile he gives you is fond, caring, the kind that makes your heart swell with adoration. you nod in response, leaning into his touch instinctively. "yeah, you did so good for me. so good, baby," he leans down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead despite the mess, lingering there for a moment. "let's get you cleaned up, sweet girl. c'mon."

he straightens up, tucks himself back into his boxers and lazily zips his pants up as he turns to the sink. you sit there, eyes red and puffy as you stare into nowhere for a bit, hands folded in your lap as you replay the scene in your head. you hear water running, the soft tear of a paper towel, and a moment later he's crouching back down in front of you, the warm, damp towel in his hand.

he cleans your face with slow, careful strokes. the cum on your cheek, the streak across your nose, the sticky mess on your chin, lips, and collarbone. he's so gentle now, so patient, the same hands that pulled your hair roughly when you wouldn't listen, now delicately smoothing the cloth across your skin like you're something precious.

you stare at him in awe as he continues, mouth gaped open dumbly as you absentmindedly palm your poor knees. he pulls back when he's finished, scanning your form meticulously as if he were searching for any injuries. "knees hurt, baby?" he asks when he sees you soothing them, hand blanketing yours as he strokes the skin softly.

you nod, eyes glossy as you meet his gaze, his stare softening as he reflects on his rough handling in the beginning. he grasps your hand, pressing a firm, sweet kiss to the skin apologetically.

"c'mere." he tosses the cloth into the trash, then bends and scoops you up under your knees and back in one easy motion, lifting you off the floor like you weigh nothing. your arms loop around his neck instinctively, face tucking into the warm crook between his jaw and shoulder, and you feel him exhale into your hair.

"let me make it up to you baby," he says, voice deep and sultry against your temple, and your heart pounds at the suggestion. finally, he's going to give you something, you think. you felt like you could've exploded down there on your knees, at his mercy and with no ground to stand on. "you still owe me for that mouth, though, baby. i haven't forgotten that easily." he muses, turning to press a firm kiss to your forehead as he walks in the direction of the stairs.

he carries you toward the stairs, the soft pad of his feet on the hardwood the only sound now besides your soft breaths against his neck. the light from the kitchen spills into the hallway, casting dark shadows up the stairwell, and his arms tighten around you as he guides you both to the bedroom.

© cametoile ♡ + ↻

⊱ ۫ ׅ✧ m.list

Toji observes how you shift uncomfortably next to him on the couch, occasionally letting out a soft whimper. 

“The hell’s the matter with ‘ya?” he says, putting his arm around you and moving you closer to him. It didn’t take a genius to see that you were in pain — and besides, Toji knows you better than anyone.  

“M’sore again,” you complain, resting your head against his broad chest. “You were the one askin’ me to fuck ya’ harder last night, cryin’ on my cock like you couldn’t get enough,” he teases, watching you pout in response. 

Toji lets out a low grumble, similar to an irritated old man, (he isn’t far off), pulling you onto his lap as carefully as he knows how. He positions you with your back to his chest, coaxing your legs apart and draping them over his thick thighs. 

It’s times like this you forget just how big he is compared to you, manhandling you onto his lap like you weigh nothing. He wastes no time in traiing his hand down your shorts, “Tell me where it hurts, sweetheart.” 

You hiss sharply as one thick finger circles your poor little hole, still recovering from Toji stretching it wide with his impressive size. “Mph — hurts,” you whine, leaning your head back against his chest. 

He hums in aknowledgement, sliding his hand further up and gently circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. “And here?” he asks, pressing a firm kiss to your neck. You moan softly, bucking your hips against his hand slowly, chasing relief from the ache inside of you. 

“Use ya’ words, baby — speak up,” he purrs, circling your clit faster, his other hand rubbing the inside of your thigh. “Feels good there,” you pant softly, safe in his arms. 

You melt against him, moans becoming shakier. Toji gathers your slick, coating it over your sensitive bud, continuing his steady rhythm. “Silly little girl, asking for it harder n’ complaining when I give it to ‘ya,” he rasps, nipping gently at your ear, his stubble brushing your cheek.  

Affectionate words weren’t Toji’s thing, but if anyone had taught him how to be softer, gentler — it was you. 

Maybe not all the time, but enough for you to know that he wasn’t entirely just this gruff, mean older man. He cared in his own way. 

He works you until the soreness faded, your mind and body distracted by pleasure as he brings you to orgasm. “Atta girl,” he praises, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Mm, thank you, ji,” you mumble, now limp against him.  

You are drunk and pissed all because Simon decided it was time to leave the bar. He threw you over his shoulder, patted your ass, told you that you have had way too much to drink and walked out like nothing was unusual about the scene. On the way home, you sat angled towards the window, giving him the silent treatment, and every time he tried to touch your thigh you dramatically pushed his hand away and huffed in annoyance.

Such a brat.

Simon knows exactly how to take care of his bratty lady, which is why the second the two of you walk into your shared apartment, he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the bedroom.

What he doesn’t see is the sly smile spreading across your face when you think of the best way to fuck with him.

You’re face down, cheek smooshed against the pillow, ass up, pussy bare to him behind you, and ready to get on with your evil plan. His hands find your hips, and he nudges his cock at your entrance. Your folds are soaking, glistening under the soft glow of your bedside lamp, and the second his tip pushes through your entrance, you’re biting your bottom lip and shoving your face even further into the pillow.

This will be harder than you thought.

A meeting is about to start when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s around 12pm. So it must be a picture of what you’re eating for lunch.

maybe a sandwich with crisps? or maybe an açaí bowl from that new place you were talking about this morning.

He opened the notification.

Ghost slammed his phone face down on the table. Price and Soap looked at eachother confused, as did others in the room. The silence was awkward.

Maybe you had sent him in angry text ??

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

Simon Riley who was trained to read battlefields, not people. He catches the shift of a rifle barrel before anyone else notices, can hear danger in the quietest room— but put him in an ordinary conversation and suddenly he’s operating without a map.

He misses all the hints, someone flirting? They’re just being polite. Someone going quiet because they’re upset? He just simply thinks they want space. Someone trying to politely end conversations through body language? He keeps talking because he’s focused on the topic.

Simon who takes sarcasm literally, answers questions too bluntly, and never realizes when someone wants comfort instead of solutions.

It isn’t cruelty..it’s just that social rules feel like a language everyone else learned naturally while he had other things to survive. Around people he trusts, the cracks show most— long silences, awkward attempts at reassurance.. he’s trying his best to connect, he just doesn’t know how.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

if there’s one thing you’ve learned from being BRUCE WAYNE’S girlfriend— it’s that older men do it right.

bruce worships you like you’re his religion. lips dancing across your skin with the reverence of a thousand suns, bruce’s affections are never of grandiose stature (because if bruce’s specialty is anything when it comes to things he truly cares about, it’s subtlety); but his love is never to be doubted.

he makes a point to wake you up every morning with his lips pressed to yours; goes out of his way to help you dress for a gala, and never turns down the opportunity to just talk— because loving you, for all its glory, should best be demonstrated through mundanity.

his hands find your waist easily in public events; clinging, holding, consoling.

sturdy fingers thread through your hair or down your spine, tracing veins and beauty marks like a painfully tender game of connect the dots.

and god— the way he makes love to you? it’s as if the stars have aligned and everything has allowed for your souls to intertwine so tightly, bruce would have to traverse the seven seas should he find someone that could even begin to rival the love he feels for you. every thrust, every gasp, every furrow of his brows as he drives in and out and in again of you— done with purpose, done with such devotion, it almost scares him. because bruce has never loved someone this tenderly before— his entire world has shifted on its head because of you—! and that is something so impossibly foreign to gotham’s most important, it is horrifying.

but bruce welcomes the scare, so long as he gets to hold you in his arms as his cock plunges further into your soaked cunt; so long as he gets to spill into you, burying himself and his cum into your womb; so long as you’re rendered speechless by time he’s finished with you, peppering kisses along your hairline and jaw as if to seal the deal.

bruce wayne has taught you that, while older men do it right— only one older man will complete you; through his mind, body, and soul.

© PLUVOiA - masterlist.

He tells you as much when you comment about starting a diet, brow furrowed under the mask "yer a civilian, love. No reason to torture yerself."

You try to explain that it's for your looks, that you noticed how your upper arms sag and your gut is always sticking out over jeans when you sit. To which ghost grunts "...jerk off to the thought o' you and yer body everyday. If it helps."

Which...he does, actually. Ghost isn't dressing up his words to make you feel nice, he simply can't get enough of your plush body. Practically begs you for photos all the time, not just nudes but silly ones of your outfits or selfies on a day out. He's so horribly in love he jerks off to the half–asleep barely illuminated selfies you take when you wake up in the middle of the night.

Had you better stamina, you're sure your boyfriend would keep you bent over near constantly if the mess between your thighs from his midnight desire is anything to go by.

Any thoughts of cutting calories or opting for a salad are always dashed when ghosts groggy "mornin' lovie...." is accompanied by two large hands kneading the fat of your chest and sides.

Ghost loves his fat partner, and he makes sure you know it.

18+ mdni.

AN IMPOSSIBLE REQUEST PART TWO 💕🩰 part one ♡ part three

you’re waddling to your room, feeling like you just rode a freaking horse, the pressure of him being inside of you still lingering.

he doesn't waste a second not chasing you. he's so scared of what you'll think of him, but he's even more scared of not doing everything he can to keep you as his forever.

you're grabbing your stuffie, feeling so vulnerable, slipping on a mini pink lace babydoll lingerie set, and crawling into bed.

he's looking at you with the most broken gaze you've ever seen, and all you want to do is hug him and kiss him better.

he swallows, mouth suddenly so dry, voice more grave than it’s ever been. 'i'm scared to lose you, love,' he offers, stepping closer to you. you sit up, stunned by what's occuring right now.

you’re watching as his trembling hand is reaching for the mask, your eyes widening and jaw softly dropping. he’s tugging it off, horrified, looking down, expecting you to run out of the room after becoming appalled by the sight of him.

instead, he hears you giggle, and then he feels arms wrapping around his neck and hears you gasping as you touch the scars on his softly marred face and the dark circles beneath his eyes. 'oh my gosh, si! you're even sexier without the mask!’ you gush.

he smiles so big, almost feeling shy as you drown his face in kisses, hugging his head. telling him how much you love him.

You’re still at your desk at 7:30 because Price hasn’t sent you home yet.

That’s the truth of it, no matter what you say to yourself about emails or the brief. The door to his office is open enough that you can see the yellow light from the lamp inside across the linoleum. You can hear the rasp of his voice coming through when he leans back in his chair — low and rough, the rumble of it cutting off at intervals when whoever’s on the other end speaks. You’ve long since stopped pretending to type anything.

He’s been in there for hours. You brought him coffee at six and his hand brushed yours when he took the cup, and he didn’t say thank you like he usually does, just held your gaze over the rim until you turned around and walked out with hot ears.

You haven’t been able to focus since.

the man is literally drooling when you bend over to place your bar of soap back where it belongs, breasts bouncing, glistening in the lights of the bathroom when you straighten. residual soap drifts down your arms, legs, the top of your chest, down the planes of your round tummy.

and it’s when you turn that simon realizes you’ll be the death of him.

he knew this from the beginning of course, honeyed eyes watching the curl of your lips when you first graced him with your smile, the sun peaking out from behind the darkest of clouds.

but it’s now, you standing here swollen with his child, that he feels those rain clouds disperse. the final puzzle piece sliding into place.

you turned, eyebrows raised in question as simon looks down at you, his eyes mimicking that of a man starved.

“si? is everything alright?”

he was sure he looked like an idiot, smirking down at you in such a boyish way while he placed his hands at the dip of your hips, one hand snaking down to squeeze the plump of your ass. he was met with a squeak and a playful smack to his arm as you leaned into him, breasts flattening against his chest.

he didn’t mean for his voice to sound so full of hunger, but it was hard when you looked up at him under those fluttering lashes of yours.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

Simon was a big guy.. and he loved to eat.

Your thighs trembled under his iron grip, his hands splayed wide to hold you open so he could enjoy his “feast” without resistance.

The moment he buried his face between your legs, it was over—no mercy, no reprieve.

He ate like a starving dog. tongue plunging deep into your fluttering walls, lapping at your essence with a growl that vibrated straight to your core. "Fuckin' divine lovie.. " he muttered against your slick folds, voice muffled but rough, before diving back in without taking a single breath.

Real men don't need air when they've got heaven on their tongue.

Simon lived and breathed that motto.

You whined—hips bucking against his mouth, overstimulated already from the first orgasm ripping through you, but he didn't stop—couldn't, wouldn't.

His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard and relentless, tongue flicking in merciless circles until tears streamed down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. Your walls clenched around nothing now, desperate and fluttering as he thrust his tongue back inside, devouring every drop like it was his lifeline. "S-Si—please, too much!" you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, but he only hummed in response, eyes dark and feral peering up from between your legs.

He feasted until you were a sobbing, quivering mess, and even then, he licked you clean with slow, possessive strokes, savoring the way you shattered for him again and again.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

if there was one thing you loved about your husband, it was his hair. there had been countless nights where the two of you curled up together on your bed while you ran his hands through his soft golden locks. it was an unspoken ritual that existed between the two of you.

it didn’t matter if he came home late, shoulders heavy and quiet, or if the night had been easy and light — somehow, you always ended up there. your fingers in his hair, slow and gentle, and him slowly melting beneath your touch.

after he had been sent on a week mission, the door barely had time to close before you were already there. only one other person had a key to your house, which was him, simon.

“simon—”

you stopped mid-step.boots stepped inside, heavy but familiar. a duffel bag dropped by the door. and then you shrieked:

“what happened to your hair?!”

─── ⋆ aftercare

CALL OF DUTY - MWII - SIMON RILEY

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 SUMMARY: in your last relationship aftercare wasn’t even a concept, but with Simon Riley it’s so much more than that.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: just Simon giving you aftercare for the first time because what the hell I have free will ALSO 18+ puhlease!! Mdni I’ll boot kick you out.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff so rotten your teeth will fall out.

Pairings: bf!Simon x gf!Reader

The next best thing to sex with Simon Riley was the aftercare - you thought as your gaze followed him into the bathroom, his frame disappearing behind the doorframe. You were sore, heart hammering and skin slick with sweat as you basked in the aftermath of it all, but a soft smile stretched across your lips.

You felt like you were positively glowing.

It shocked you the first time you both had sex. Not that you expected him to discard you with his back turned. But considering your past relationship, the lack of love after making it was normal for you.

Didn’t make it suck any less though.

So when it came to Simon. A man who practically intimidated every neighbour of yours within a block, muscle and tattoo ridden and who killed for a living - aftercare seemed … overly emotionally strenuous for him. Like it would make things too real? You thought.

But when it came and he held you as though you could crack like strained glass, gently wiping your skin with a lukewarm towel, you couldn’t hide how enamoured you felt.

How did so much care and love come from the same hands that drew blood.

“What’s tha’ look for?” Simon pointed bluntly as he butterflied your hips open to clean your core “nothing just-“ you swallowed thickly, blinking “didn’t expect all this” you breathe. Simon’s brows furrowed in confusion, gaze still tethered to wiping you clean “Christ dove, what kind of men have you been havin’ sex with” his abrasive tone made you huff a laugh “shitty ones” you retorted.

“Fuckin’ clearly” he said, guiding the rough towel over your stomach.

Seconds passed and you were still unable to wipe the adoration off your face, something Simon noticed with a huff of a laugh “ya lookin’ at me like I’ve just bought you a fuckin’ puppy” mirth dripped off of his tone.

You gently pushed him “shut up”

“What kinda man do ya’ take me for” Simon questioned while he moved to soothe the inside of your thighs. You let his words hang in the air before you responded “not a shitty one” he hummed in amusement, his belief of your words wavered thin.

Simon tended to the hickeys and bruises, apologising gruffly for getting carried away. To which you said that you didn’t mind “Good” he said, throwing the towel into the dirty clothes basket before lying down next to you “C’mere” he graveled, arms outstretched.

You complied, draping your arm across his scarred chest. A new found sense of relief flooded through you at the feeling of being so tenderly cared for. Simon heaved a sigh, coiling his arm around your waist to pull you closer “M’fuckin’ girl” he murmured before kissing the crown of your head.

This was how it was supposed to be.

"toji. Im gonna lose weight."

you say it like its nothing, like its just another thought passing, but it lands heavy anyway, and he stills beside you.

he doesnt respond in a gruff way, doesnt look at you and say 'you fuckin' crazy?'. no, instead his hand shifts where it rests at your side, a little firmer, thumb pressing slow into the soft flesh there like hes making sure its still real.

he doesnt even say anything, just slumps back, sighs, and looks off to the side with a small frown on his face like it isnt fair.

It doesnt sit right with him.

"what you sayin that for?." he mutters, voice low.

his jaw shifts, eyes dragging over you, like hes taking you in piece by piece, like hes already noticing things that havent even changed yet. his hand moves, spreading a little wider at your waist, thumb dragging once along your side before pressing in again.

"…dont gotta do all that." he says.

you dont answer right away, just lean back into him slightly, still casual.

"I want to," you murmur.

he exhales through his nose, something in it off.

"dont make sense." he mutters after a second. you blink, glancing at him.

"what does?"

he doesnt look at you when he answers, just keeps his gaze low, hand still warm and heavy where it rests on you.

"this," he says. "you. youre already sittin right. dont gotta do that."

Its blunt, and his fingers press in again, like hes thinking, like he doesnt know how to say what he means without saying too much.

"dont see what you see," he adds, quieter. "nothin' wrong with you."

you pause, watching him now, but he still doesnt meet your eyes, just keeps his hand there, thumb moving absent over your side like he always does, only slower this time.

"just leave it, yeah?" he mutters, quieter, like hes trying to convince you.

"Im just kidding." you say.

his hand stops completely, thumb freezing against your side before his head turns toward you slow, eyes narrowing.

"that aint funny," he says, low and flat.

theres a beat where he just looks at you, frown still there, something a little too real sitting under it, like he actually thought you were being forreal, like he didnt like it at all.

his hand slides up from your side to your waist, grip tightening as he pulls you in closer, not rough, but firm. you giggle a little, almost sorry that you made him worry like that.

you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, to which he only grumbles in response.

"aint funny." he repeats.

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tears spring to your eyes from the smoke curling into the air, hazy mountains of gas filling the room in wispy waves. the pungent scent hits your nose, poor thing twitching like a bunny's.

john's eyes are low and red, pupils dilated and erratic.

one hand gripping your ass for all it's worth, the other barely holding onto his cigar, it's an understatement to say he's high out of his mind.

sprawled out on the couch, he's sinking into the plush cushions, thick thighs pulsing from exertion as he fucks up into you.

"fuuck! feels s' good!" you slur, unable to decide if you want to meet his thrusts or crawl and run away.

"yeeah, i know it feels good, baby." his hands twitch as he debates taking another drag or gripping your other ass cheek; he decides on taking your cheeks first.

flicking it onto the desk in front of him, his cigar rolls on the dark wood surface. thick, calloused fingers are groping your ass, spreading them wide so his balls can slap against your asshole while he fucks you.

your eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy. head lolled to the side, whimpering and grinding, john wouldn't have you any other way.

just as you're about to succumb to the pleasure, a beefy hand grabs your face.

forcing your lips into a pout, a gentle sting spreads across your face. more tears well up, cascading down your cheeks freely now.

"c'mon, look at me," he whispers, right into your ear. his voice is still thick with smoke, rough at the edges and tickling your skin.

your pretty eyes lock with his. suddenly your climax is hurdling faster, nerves alight. maybe it's the eye contact, john's sudden rise in dominance, or maybe it's the secondhand smoke getting to you.

whatever it is, it doesn't matter. orgasm upon you, your walls clench so hard he groans a curse, toes curling in his steel toed boots.

his hands scramble for your hips to keep you in place. "shit, i'm cumming!" you sob between moans, as if he can't feel the delicious grip of your pussy like muscle memory. if it weren't for him being so high, you'd surely be in trouble for cumming without permission,

"i know, i know. ride it out for me, doll." and you do, agonizingly so.

he loves seeing you like this, so shaky and blissed out. you wish you could say your surprised at how quickly he cums, wide hips digging into yours, but you're not.

"j-john, too much! too much!" he shushes you softly.

"it's- fuck- not too much," he grunts. of course he'd say that. he's the one that still has stamina, still fucking you no matter how hard you cum. "take it f'me, c'mon."

you obey, high off bliss and god knows what is in that cigar.

it takes another few minutes for his motions to stop, for his senses to come back. his eyes are still red, the smoke is still hot on his breath, but his usual tenderness has returned.

"you did amazing, sweetcheeks." he says it staring right into your eyes, tears only now starting to dry. you nuzzle into him as words are a bit hard to find right now.

"i love you," he whispers, graying beard tickling your cheeks.

"i'll always love ya'."

masterlist | @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred