Fouyumixuri - Fouyumixuri

princess of daydreams

knight!megumi x princess!reader

Warning: heavy pining, masturbation, corruption kink, implied virginity loss, implied unprotected sex (pull out method used).

An: this was only supposed to be a drabble ._. got carried away.

minors do not interact/ 18+ only

He’s always been stoic. A true rule follower to his core. He luckily hasn’t had to go out and risk his life for a pointless war that brings nothing but death for months only for the two kingdoms to come to a stupid truce. That’s the one thing he doesn’t see himself doing. Fighting to keep up with a king’s inflated ego. That’s why he was happy to be assigned under the royal guard. But that wasn’t the only reason he was content with his position.

Sapphire orbs drink up layers of ribbon and silks every time he sees you. He hated those huge puffy dresses on you, obscuring him from seeing your true frame. Makes him feel perverted when he thinks any of those thoughts and they’re so often. He sits up straighter every time you pass him. When your eyes meet he feels his throat dry and his hands clam up. Then there’s that sweet smile you always greet him with.

That moment always feels like sunshine beaming on his face. Like the air was sucked from his lungs and he has to take a gulp of fresh air. It gets to him so bad. That smile replays in his daydreams when his mind isn’t occupied with anything else. It’s even worse at night when his imagination really takes over.

Alone in his own chambers, he imagines what you look like in your night clothes or maybe even nothing at all. He feels so ashamed when he becomes aroused from the thought. Megumi always imagines what you would whisper to him if he had you here with him. He wonders if you would be hesitant in the case of keeping your innocence because of your status.

He thinks about corrupting you, convincing you to give him your first time under the idea that he’s helping you, showing you how to please your future husband. And you, so sweet and naive, give it to him willingly so you can be a good future wife.

Megumi shudders thinking about your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, instructing you not to use your teeth. Your mouth would be so warm and he wants to cum in it so bad and tell you to swallow it. He feels sick for thinking about kissing you afterwards.

Then he gets you under him, preps you so sweetly since it’s your first time and you need lubrication. Instead he just wanted to taste you. He thinks about how good you probably taste and how you would squirm from his tongue. He would make sure you finish on his mouth before trying out his fingers. He starts with one and soothes you when you cry, kissing away your tears. He would admire your beauty here and silently wish you were his. Then the second finger. By then you’re moving your hips in tandem with his fingers and you come undone again.

It’s so warm, with your bodies pressed together and nothing but the moonlight illuminating your guys’ features. With a couple sloppy kisses shared Megumi lines himself up with your purity. This is the part of the imagination where Megumi starts to touch himself.

Rough, calloused hands, used to holding a sword, grasps his hard cock. He sighs out, jaw slacking a bit and sapphire eyes closing. He smears the pre dribbling from his slit onto his cock. His hips rock to fuck up into his fist and he moans softly from the slight relief. He knows you would feel so much better wrapped around him.

His imagination runs wild with the thought of finally easing himself into you. He would shush you when you cry out to him that it hurts. “You want to be a noble wife, right? Then we can’t get caught. Quiet my lady.” He gets halfway before pulling out and pushing back in even farther. It starts to get easier for you to take him, your cunt opening up for him with every slight push of his hips.

Your nails dig into his strong forearms as you whine and keen for him. His lips mold with yours to shush you and he changes the position slightly to spread you even more open for him. The back of your knees rest in the crooks of his elbows and the pain returns again as he digs himself deeper into you. He wants to curse aloud and moan out your name so you know what you do to him.

“S- sir it’s deep,” you whisper to him as he keeps his pace slow.

“That’s the point,” he speaks in the dark. “Your husband is going to want to impregnate you the first night of your marriage. He needs to be close to your womb. Therefore this position is very common.” You don’t even question him because Megumi makes you feel safe. He’s supposed to. He’s a knight of the royal guard.

His hand speeds up and a hiss sounds from his lips as he imagines his balls clapping against against your ass every time he thrusts back in. He thinks about how well you would take it despite being a sweet little virgin. And all because you want to please your future husband, whoever he shall be. But in that moment you’re Megumi’s and Megumi’s alone.

You two try to stay quiet but it feels too good. Each other’s names whispered against your lips as you shared sweet kisses. A groan and a curse from Megumi and a shaky moan and whimpers from you. The bed creaks a bit from all the movement and Megumi can feel himself getting close. “I’m almost there,” he moans softly. You pull him in for another kiss, this one a bit messier and needier than the others.

It has him flinging to the edge and it disappoints him that he has to pull out. But he does, stroking his pretty cock over your body, cumming with a low, “fuck”.

He spills into his hand, some of it getting onto his lower abdomen. In his daydream though, he finishes on your bosom that he still wishes he could see with his own eyes.

Here comes the shame that approaches with these nightly thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about even doing that to you. But he always wonders if you would take him up on the offer if he ever asked. With a sigh he cleans himself up and takes himself back to bed, absolutely angry at himself for wanting to corrupt the princess.

Meanwhile he doesn’t know that you think of him, the pretty knight that fights with the fierceness of fire, when playing in your pretty cunt. Your nightly routine also included a made up scenario of him accompanying you to his chamber and filling you to the brim. Maybe one day you’ll order him to your room so you can enact your fantasy. But for now you two rely on your imagination to get you through these lonely nights.

______

tags: @luxekeyah @chosovixen @noritopia

SPIRITED AWAY 2001 | dir. Hayao Miyazaki

Dainsleif and Kaeya sketch I did yesterday that I forgot to post 👍🏽

“Still like my scars?” His tone was a harsh pant, hips still moving back and forth with ease as he looked down at you. “Y-yeah… fuck.” You whined loudly, nails digging into his shoulders as your legs began to go numb with the effort of keeping them around his waist. “Do…” you started, mind feeling like mush as his cock stretched your walls over and over again. “...Do you still like my eyes…” Your head fell back, eyes nearly closing until his hand shot out to grab your chin and force them back on him. “Yeah, course I do… I think they look even prettier than before.” Slightly red from tears, glossy and dazed “Yeah…definitely look even prettier now.”

Did I say fluff... I meant smut

As much as I sexualize and objectify him, I just know Sanemi would be so incredibly difficult to get into bed with. For good reason.

CW/ SEVERE Angst/ am.... am i depressed? Maybe, lol/ Discussion of CA / DV / Men's Mental Health / Sanemi is afraid of his dead dad / MANGA SPOILERS/ Panic Attack / ANXIETY / SH - Just general no good times as a result of Sanemi intentionally isolating.

This isn't headcanons or anything, I've just had my fair share of Sanemi run ins in my life, and I know He'd be afraid of you.

Afraid of himself and being just like his dad. He looks just like the bastard. If he didn't have the white hair, it'd be identical. He has those thousand yard stare eyes, and that big, imposing frame. After his mothers death, I just know he starred at that thing for days. Watching it fester and scar... it was easier before that one came in, to separate his face from his fathers- What an ugly gash.

And he was just like his dad, to Genya, at least. He wanted more than anything for Genya to just be happy, and he knew the stupid boy was doing it all for him. To earn his big brother's love that Sanemi had been intentionally depriving him of. And it sickened Sanemi.

He had to make it painfully clear to Genya every step of the way that nothing he did, no matter the triumph, no matter how proud Sanemi was- was ever going to make Sanemi snap and just say it.

Genya was too good to be good enough. Sanemi thanked his father, briefly, for that trait about himself. Sanemi turned everything off the day his mother died. Everything except for his dad.

Genya did not deserve a tie to the woeful underbelly of the world. Those silly things Genya said after Sanemi killed their mother were Sanemi's saving grace. He never would've been brave enough to start removing himself from Genya's life if Genya hadn't believed he opened the door.

It's why he tried to take his eyes when he found out Genya had been eating demons- Genya was a man he just couldn't protect anymore, because Sanemi kept tabs and he hadn't known that about Genya for a while, now.

It was all so... scary, Sanemi struggled to even think about it sometimes. Anytime he would a pit would grow in his stomach. Anytime he thought about snapping and reconciling with his brother, telling him how proud he was- that pit would be right back. It was like he was starving.

And God, when he meets someone he loves it stings. It stings because Sanemi was always the one walking the others out of the house when dad got bad. It stings because he knows exactly what that bastard did to his mom- he knew the movements intrinsically, and that's all he knew how to do to those fly away demons he'd been slaughtering for months as a teenager.

Back when he could still resceitate a smidge of his empathy for the things. He just started imagining them as his dad.

Because the pathetic piece of shit died before Sanemi could get penance. Kyogo should've been alive for Sanemi to kill, to get big and strong, and beat his father down into submission like Kyogo had been beating him, his mother, and his siblings down for years...

He should've been alive to do the bare minimum and protect his wife- to have fallen to slaughter in her stead. Because there should've been a bigger man in the house- To not only protect Shizu, but to protect Sanemi... but there just wasn't.

The love stings because every time he's reminded of how weak he is.

He loved Kumeno. With everything in his body, he knew he loved Kumeno. He wouldn't dare say a word. He had such a soft smile, Sanemi felt yet another drop of color fade from his vision as he watched Kumeno's smile fade away.

God, he loved Kanae more than he hated the world. He knew it radiated off of him when she entered a room- Because she treated him so softly. The news had shaken him for weeks. He doesn't even quite recall where he went or what he did.

He was greedy to want anything when he wore that uniform and wielded that blade. The first time in a long time he bothered to try and love, the world reminded Sanemi of his place.

And good for it, too, He'd figure. He would've beat Kanae, he bet. Would've reduced such a kind and caring woman to a sniveling dog beneath his fists.

It was better, that God took her away. She was safer from him dead.

His thoughts are never this formulated. They're thicker with self-bashing and the like. He can't bare to look at his face, only his torso- He crafted that himself, his dad was never this strong.

I know if he likes you, you'd just never know. It'd be like pulling teeth, but somehow worse. He doesn't sleep with anyone because that's disrespectful. No woman is an object to be used once, maybe seven times, and then cast off to deal with the brunt of it.

I'm sure beating up the Kakushi that made Mitsuri's uniform was more than cathartic for him.

I'm sure, if you manage to get through to him inspite all of this, he'd be afraid to touch you. He yanks his hand away, and never initiates kissing, even though it's all he wants to do.

He cries when he loses his virginity because fuck, god is going to yank you away. and he knows he can't do anything about it because he messed up and weak. He got so close to you, and god is going to smite you for it.

He's never the one that bares the runt of his sins.

He can't finish. He has a panic attack, it's visceral, and terrifying, he cant even manage to cry. It takes every bone in his body not to lash out screaming, breaking, and destroying while you cradle him against your chest, because God, fuck, he's a mess.

It would take him months to even consider it again. He begs you to leave him and find a man that can treat you better, because it just isn't him-

And it hurts because you see how strong he is to just be alive everyday. Sanemi has never been strong, though. And he doubts he will ever be strong enough to love you correctly-

It's not like him to quit, though.

God I might part 2 this, he's such a little fucker lmao.

I love sanemi so much

Sanemi holding his newborn child. Cradling a small bundle wrapped tightly in warm blankets so they can sleep comfortably, little chunky cheek pressing to his chest as he cradles them. You’re fast asleep beside him, exhausted from all your new mother duties while Sanemi has the night shift. Being a slayer for so many years has practically turned him nocturnal, he can easily stay up all night on daddy duty while you get your much needed rest.

Sanemi whispering softly to his baby as they sleep, quiet little praises and affirmations of his love. He didn’t think it was possible to love something this much. To love so hard it makes his chest tight at the very thought of it. He would do anything to protect the sleeping baby in his arms, so innocent, completely untouched by the evil in the world. He’d do anything for the both of you, anything that meant you two living long happy lives.

Sanemi humming the lullaby his mother would sing him and his siblings. The same lullaby he’d hum to Genya on nights where he couldn’t fall asleep even after their mother did. It was a familiar tune, one you knew well because he’d hum it for you on nights where you couldn’t sleep either. Sanemi unable to pull his eyes away from their little face. Noting that they had your lips and his nose, soft little tufts of white hair and long lashes. The chubbiest cheeks he’d ever seen, ten perfect fingers and toes with the littlest nails.

Sanemi memorizing your baby’s face in the same way he had memorized yours, wanting to engrave every single part of you two into his brain. Sanemi quietly settling down with his baby still tucked snuggly in his arms, their little head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. Sanemi sighing softly, heart aching and full of love. His twenty fifth birthday was just a few months away, it almost felt surreal as he whispered softly to his sleeping baby…

“I wish I could be here to watch you grow up.”

maybe in another universe

just can't get enough

part 2/series masterlist

Pairing; Rookie!Virgin!Leon S Kennedy x fem reader

Summary; Leon's fresh out of the academy and into the Raccoon City police department-and he's still a virgin. Not only that, but he has almost no idea what what sex even is. Then he meets you, and his body starts wanting things. Or, the first 3 stages of Leon Kennedy learning about his body.

Warnings; 18+ minors dni or I'll set nemesis on u! there's dirty thoughts, lottttttta boners, a wet dream, male masturbation, fantasies, porn watching kinda, cold showers, can't remember what else so!

(a/n) uh basically everyone is ooc v sorry bout that, idek what chris is doing in this, leon is 21 and reader is like 20/21? idk lets say everyone is in their 20's yeah? leon is like. utterly clueless in this. like he knows NOTHING! lets also ignore all the biological stuff and how he would have learned abt this beforehand and that he would prosb have more wet dreams in general if he wasn't doing anything like stfu this is just what happened to fall out of my mind- title is Just Can't Get Enough by Depeche Mode

Word Count; just under 8.7k

stage 1

The moment Leon steps into the station, his eyes land on you. Sitting behind the front desk, chatting to a man and laughing as you play with a pen. It’s like something in him locks onto you just then, like his mind fixates on you and suddenly he can’t see anyone else. 

The man showing him around doesn’t notice Leon’s distraction. Simply talks to him about the water coolers and the break room while Leon nods along, humming in agreement at all the right times as he stares across at you now typing away at your computer. 

He can see you’re not a cop, evidenced by the white blouse, silky satin fabric molding over your skin, and the black pencil skirt hugging your figure. He’s never been one to let himself get distracted by a pretty face or fall at a woman’s feet-there’s a reason he excelled at his training while other students became preoccupied after all, but he finds himself distracted nonetheless. 

It makes something in his gut stir, makes it drop strangely and he suddenly needs to be near you. His fingers twitch ever so slightly, envisioning his grip on your waist, before he blinks and realises you’re staring back at him, amused curiosity painted all over your features. 

His cheeks flush instantly, blooming with heat as he bites his bottom lip embarrassedly and fidgets with his gun holster in nervousness. 

His guide sees him not paying the slightest bit of attention and follows his gaze, but instead (thankfully) assumes Leon must be focused on the cop standing a few feet in front of your desk. He’s the classically handsome type, and Leon realises that this is the cop you were talking to only a couple of minutes ago. 

“Oh Chris? He’s accomplished alright, more arrests than anyone here and the highest records for pretty much anything you can name-best in the shooting range as well, until you showed up I guess-”

Leon feels a burst of pride, still partly feeling like he’s in the academy and trying to be the best, accomplish the most. The pride is quickly replaced with embarrassment when he realises that he also selfishly somehow wants you to see that he’s better than this man. That he’s beaten Chris’ record, and that Leon could be the one standing by your desk as you laugh and smile instead of this big burly officer. 

His cheeks flush even more, glowing red as he tries to figure out what the heck is going on with his body and his mind. He’s never been this enamoured by a pretty face before-he appreciated the beauty of some of his fellow cadets, recognised his vague attraction to some classmates, but he can’t remember a time he was ever struck dumb by the sheer presence of someone. An after effect of being raised in a fairly religious and abstinent environment, he supposes. It still makes him feel odd though, makes him wonder why he feels so hot and nervous all of a sudden. What’s even more baffling is why his stomach keeps flipping when you adjust your bra strap, why his gut feels tight when your skirt rides up ever so slightly as you cross your legs. 

Leon’s guide is still talking about Chris, saying what a man he is and how he treats everyone the same, what a perfect officer and all round good friend and coworker he is. Again, Leon questions himself. Why so bothered?? Why suddenly so annoyed about a man I’ve never met and by all accounts seems to be an upstanding citizen?

His brows furrow confusedly when you smile at Chris and wave as he walks past, and his stomach suddenly doesn’t feel so good. The feeling is baffling, he doesn’t even know you. He hasn’t even met you yet, has only stared at you from across the room-and yet you’ve done something to him. You’ve made something happen to his body, given him an odd feeling that he doesn’t know how to get rid of. One that makes his uniform feel two sizes too small and the station feel humid.

As his guide moves on to the bullpen next door he tries to bury the feeling and ignore whatever is happening with his body. It’s more difficult than he anticipates, especially since he doesn’t actually know what’s happening. 

The heat and the tension eases slightly when you’re out of view, but there’s still that tugging feeling within him where his pulse is oddly loud and present and he just craves your presence. How weird. 

The rest of his day is spent meeting his fellow officers and superiors, eating the cake they bought to welcome him and setting up his things at his new desk. The heaviness within him fades after a little while, and you don’t appear again for a few hours so he relaxes again. Focuses on making some friends and familiarising himself with the computer systems instead of what you did to him. 

Chris and a few guys insist on taking him out at the end of the day, want to take him to the bar down the street and get him drunk and get him laid. 

Leon flushes brightly yet again at their words and wonders if you’ll be joining them. Then he immediately scolds himself for thinking so boldly about a woman he wasn’t even introduced to-he doesn’t even know why he has this urge to meet you so badly, doesn’t even know what the feeling in his lower belly was and why he kept thinking about the colour of your bra strap. Inappropriate, Leon. Get a grip and start being respectful, be good, like you were taught. 

He manages to stick with just a couple of beers when they get to the bar-you didn’t join them and he felt something that he couldn’t tell if it was relief or annoyance-and pretend he’s getting tipsy as the other men get drunk. 

With devoted religious parents, he can truthfully say he never really rebelled or experimented. Many kids would go the opposite way and act out, drink and smoke and steal and fuck-Leon often wonders if he should be proud or possibly ashamed that he didn’t particularly go either way. Simply figured out his parents life wasn’t for him and slowly stopped going to church, focused a little more on the end of his high school days and on getting into the academy. 

The only part that bothers him is his lack of…knowledge. 

It pains him that there’s many facets of regular life that he’s almost completely unaware of. Things most people were taught about in school or by their parents just passed him by, weren’t deemed important or were considered sinful by his church and his parents. He’s somewhat made his peace with drinking, though for a few long years he struggled with the onset of shame that would floor him whenever he picked up a drink. 

He’s never gotten drunk. Only slowly works his way through pints as his companions go hell for leather. He’s never had any desire to smoke or steal either, never had any desire to cloud his mind or dull his senses and committing any kind of crime seems outrageous if you’re trying to become an accomplished member of the police force. 

One thing that still baffles him though? 

Sex. 

Even purely just the logistics of it. 

By the time his parents passed and he’d stopped going to church, he was way past the point where most teens learn about sex. And being raised in an abstinent, premarital-sex-is-a-sin, masturbation-is-a-sin household, well, there weren’t many opportunities to learn about such things. 

Other students weren’t exactly telling him in detail what happens when you have sex either, after all why wouldn’t he know?? 

By the time he got to the academy it seemed odd and embarrassing to ask. 

What would he even say?

What’s sex? How do you have sex? How do you get laid? What happens when you have sex???

No, it ended up being easier to just smile and laugh when his fellow cadets joked about ‘hitting it from the back’ and pretend he was just a little more shy than the rest of them, rather than admitting that he has no fucking clue what they meant.

So when Chris asks if he has his eye on any of the women sitting at the bar, he flounders for a second. Buys some time looking around carefully and smiling while he thinks about how much Chris has drunk, whether he’ll remember much of this in the morning. 

Leon furrows his brow and chuckles a little, placates Chris by drinking some more of his pint and then shaking his head a little. 

Shrugs and says, “Too tired for that Redfield, can’t be bothered with that fuss when I’ve got a nice pint here-”

Knows from experience that he’s most likely to be left alone if he makes a demeaning comment about women rather than dodging the question. It settles uncomfortably in him whenever he does it, but is vastly preferable to telling a bunch of grown men that he’s out of the police academy and has still never had sex. That he doesn’t even really know what it is, only pecked a girl on the lips once when he was about six, that he’s never watched any kind of pornographic content and that he doesn’t even know how to go about touching himself. No, much easier to make a little uncomfortable comment and leave it to the other guys to change the subject. 

The evening doesn’t go on for much longer and before many more drinks are consumed Leon finds himself supporting Chris as they all stumble out of the bar. Leon manages to pour him into a cab and shut the door on him as he rolls around in the backseat and scrabbles drunkenly at the car window. 

With a lot of effort, Chris manages to roll it down and hangs his head out, beckoning Leon closer and wearing a wide grin. 

“Dude-dude you should-you gotta go back in there-you see the-that blonde chick at the-at the bar? Yeah-yeah man you gotta-dudeee you gotta check that shit out! First day at the station man! Gotta-gotta go-gotta get your dick wet, rookie!”

Leon holds back a laugh when the cab starts driving away and ‘rookie’ is dragged out as Chris’s head gets pulled backward, leaving a ‘rookieeeeeeeeee’ echoing around the busy street. 

His walk home is relatively uneventful, just thinking over the events of the day and his new colleagues. It’s an odd feeling, knowing he’s just met men who will depend on him to save their lives at some point, and that he might rely on to save his one day. At least they’re amiable, he thinks, at least they seem like fun and he’s gotten along with them so far. And at least no one realised how naive he is. 

The only spanner in the works was you. 

He still doesn’t know what exactly happened to his body when he saw you, it wasn’t like when he saw criminals or perps and instinctively knew they were no good, and it wasn’t like when he saw men like Chris and thought they’d make suitable friends. It was just…something else. 

-

Leon’s sober again by the time he reaches his apartment, the limited two pints and cold night breeze working fast. 

He methodically goes about his routine, dropping keys into the bowl by the door, towing his shoes into the rack, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, walking to his room and slowly stripping his watch, holster and badge off onto the dresser. 

And still, he thinks of you.

First day at his new job, fresh out the academy, new friends, new apartment-and you’re on his mind. 

He starts his shower and lets it run for a few minutes, holding his hand under it briefly before turning the temperature dial to his preferred. Loosening his tie, his mind wanders back to the way you leaned back in your chair. How he’d seen you stretch your arms a little around the back of your chair as you’d frowned at your computer screen. It makes him frown, the memory making his heart beat a fraction faster just like it had when he’d seen it. 

As he unbuttons his shirt he thinks of yours. The white fabric, sleek satin flowing over your figure and shifting with every slight movement. It occurs to him with a jolt that he took in much more about you than he thought he did at the time. He hadn't realised he’d paid so much attention to the way the sleeves were rolled up and sitting comfortably above your elbows. But now, his gut feels tight again as he remembers the colour of your bra ghosting through your blouse, just barely there but apparently visible enough to do something to him. 

His shirt is thrown into the corner of his bathroom with a little more force than usual, frustration pawing at him as he tries to decipher what he’s feeling. When his fly is undone he pulls his socks off and shucks his trousers and underwear down in one, wincing as the material brushes past his cock. It slaps up against his stomach, obscenely red and sensitive as the tip brushes his abdomen-Leon sucks in a sharp breath and scrapes his hand through his hair at the feeling. 

Breathing out slowly, he steps into his shower and winces again when the water hits him and makes his cock twitch. He ignores it though, just picks up his shampoo and tips his head into the stream of water to rinse his hair thoroughly. 

Unsurprisingly, his mind drifts again. 

He absentmindedly spreads body wash over his torso and under his arms as he thinks about your smile. How you’d appeared as though you were trying to hide it while Chris talked, like you were trying not to let on how amusing he was being. It was a sweet sight, he remembers. Knuckles resting against your jaw as you pressed your lips together and spun a little to each side in your chair. 

Consumed by his memories, Leon doesn’t notice he’s been washing his bicep for a full minute. He just stares at the tiles opposite as his hand scrubs back and forth methodically, yet in his mind his eyes are drifting over your hidden smile and down to your crossed legs. 

The image of your supple skin below the hem of your skirt is crystal clear in his mind, and his cock jumps again as he relives the moment the material rode up when you moved. 

He sucks in another breath at the sensation and his hands drift down his stomach to his lower belly, scratching gently along his happy trail. Leon thinks back to the one and only time he was ever remotely educated about…relations, and turns in the shower to rinse away the suds from his body. 

It was a short affair, an encounter which pretty much consisted of being told that he’d meet a nice young woman, marry, and conceive beautiful babies. He was told that he and his wife would have sex the night they married, that that would be his first time unless he wished to commit a great sin. There was a brief comment-more an allusion than anything-about using his…privates, before they laughed and said “Well, you’ll know what to do when it happens!” 

The sentiment hasn’t been particularly helpful, Leon thinks as he remembers the countless comments he’s just had to smile and laugh at, nod and brush off because he doesn’t know what people are talking about. All the times he’s opted out from drinking games, trivial ‘never have I ever’ rounds because he’s done nothing. He’d chosen to stay away from encounters like that after he’d sat through a game where he’d just looked confusedly around at people putting fingers down for things like ‘choking’ and ‘bareback’. 

What the hell either of those things had to do with sex, he’d never found out. 

Leon had only survived that evening by bowing out early, excusing himself with the lie of too much alcohol and the pretence of ‘don’t kiss and tell’. Which is how he survived most of his academy years, actually-sadly. 

Leon blinks and pulls out of his memories. Tipping his head down, he tries to focus on the rivulets of water streaming over his cheeks and running off his jaw, rather than the pulse he feels in his member. His hands lift momentarily and pause a few inches away from his stomach, trembling ever so slightly as he debates what to do. 

The urge to put his hands on himself has never been very strong with him, his body has never ached this much before-it’s always been slightly bothersome when this happens but relatively easy to ignore. Besides, he didn’t even know what to do; much simpler to just wait out whatever the feeling was in his gut. 

Tonight though, he can just feel so much. It feels as though he’s on fire, like his heart is beating in every part of his body and like something is going to happen. 

After what feels like a painfully prolonged amount of time-though is only a few seconds-his hands fall to his hips, rubbing nervously over bone and still shaking as he thinks of your fingers sliding under the strap of your bra. 

When he’d seen it you’d been pulling it back up your shoulder, but before Leon knows it his mind conjures up the image of you pulling it down, down over your arm and slipping your hand from it. 

With a gasp he jerks his hands away and grabs the temperature dial, wrenching it to the coldest it can manage. He immediately flinches at the freezing water before closing his eyes and letting it wash over him, knowing this always helps him feel normal again. Gets rid of the strange throbbing that pulses through his body when he wakes up like this sometimes. 

When he steps out of the shower and towels himself off, there’s an oddly bereft feeling in him as though his body is craving something. Leon swallows down the uncomfortable feeling and tugs some briefs on before going about his nightly routine and sliding under his covers. 

He doesn’t sleep for hours, tossing and turning under the covers while his skin feels sensitive and uncomfortable, like he’s not wearing it right, like his body can’t sort itself out. He slips into unconsciousness in the early hours of the morning, mind exhausted and body strung out-you still manage to throw a wrench into his mind yet again, making him think of your hidden smile right before he falls under the blanket of sleep. 

-

stage 2

Leon wakes up with a moan on his lips, spilling out as his thighs flex and his hands fist in his sheets. 

His eyes shoot open immediately and he gasps at the onslaught of sensations he can feel. Abdomen tight, gut twisting, hips jerking and toes curling. The most prominent thing he feels, however, is the tip of his cock caught between his stomach and the waistband of his briefs. It’s red and angry, swollen with need and almost weeping onto his abdomen. 

Leon plunges a hand into his hair and uses the other to rip the covers off of his body-they’re soaked in sweat anyway. His briefs are grey and he suddenly wishes he’d put on black ones so he couldn’t see the small wet patch of something growing by the top. His hands tremble like they did in the shower the night before, and as he goes to move his leg he whimpers, feeling the material chafe along his sensitive shaft. 

It hits him a little just then, makes his eyes well up as he tries to reconcile with the fact that he doesn’t even know what’s happening to his own body, the fact that he’s never felt so much, how it’s too much and not enough and his body craves more but he’s so scared of what will happen if he moves again. The sensation borders on painful, body so strung out every movement feels a thousand times more. 

With a muffled sob he pushes his head back into his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stay as still as he can until it all just goes away-until his body stops throbbing. 

It’s a painful few minutes, hiccups escaping every so often as his hips reflexively move and he has to bite his lip to stop more sobs spilling out, but eventually his body calms somewhat, he softens a little and can manage to slide off his bed and stumble to his bathroom. He turns on his shower and sets it to freezing immediately before leaning on the counter and braving a look at himself in the mirror above his sink. 

The reflection makes him flinch a little. There’s a splotchy red flush spreading across his chest and up his neck, painting his cheeks alarmingly. Eyes red as well, pink rimmed and slightly bloodshot with heavy waterlines still-some of his hair sticks up in odd directions but Leon’s gaze is stuck to his abdomen. 

It floors him for a minute as he stares at himself, lips parted in surprise at his own appearance. 

There’s a dark splotch on the waistband of his grey briefs, uncomfortably wet against the tip of his cock. His eyes are glued to the space just above though. A dribble of something decorates his skin, pearly white and slipping slowly down to seep into his briefs. 

He swallows uncomfortably as he thinks back to his teenage years, back to the few rare mornings where he woke up almost like this-skin painted with something he doesn’t know and mind hazy with some sort of endorphin rush. 

He’d never asked anyone about what it was, never googled and tried never to think about it again. 

Was it meant to happen? Was it normal? Should it happen more often? Never? Did all guys do it? Was it needed? Did it happen during sex? 

Questions he figured he’d never get the answer to. 

His cock is still half hard and pressing weightily against the fabric of his underwear, but he ignores it in favour of slowly lifting his hand toward his stomach. Involuntarily his eyes narrow a little, squinting so he doesn’t have to watch clearly what he’s doing. Tentatively, he presses one fingertip into the puddle on his skin and instantly retracts it. 

His gaze hesitantly drops down, as though he thinks his reflection is lying to him somehow. Vaguely, his mind registers that his hand is trembling yet again, but he can’t see anything apart from the liquid collected on his index finger. 

Pressing his lips together, he turns the tap on and runs the water over his finger, washing away the evidence of his morning. 

He peels his briefs off delicately, wincing all the while at his sensitivity and throwing them in his hamper before stepping into his cold shower. He starts shivering as soon as the water hits him, and briefly wonders if this is how it’ll be from now on. If something happened when he met you and now he won’t be able to control his body. It seems as though that’s the way it’s going. 

It’s a somewhat pitiful couple of minutes, just standing there in the freezing water as he waits for his body to relax fully. After a short while he turns the temperature up-but still just stands there. Eyes closed, head hanging down and hands resting on the tiles in front of him. 

-

He doesn’t see you today.

A wave of relief washes over him when you’re not on the front desk as he walks in, followed immediately by a wave of curiosity and anxiousness. 

Are you just not at your desk? Are you not in the building at all? Are you sick? Weirded out by Leon staring at you yesterday?? Oh god what if it was him-

He does his best to banish all thoughts about you as he sits down at his desk and grins at Chris-who’s slumped back in his chair, sunglasses propped crookedly onto his face and snoring lightly. Hiding his smile, Leon opens and slams a desk drawer shut, watching Chris bolt upright and wince as his glasses topple off his nose and clatter to the floor. 

“Rough night?”

For a second all he receives is a groan in response before Chris looks his way, frowning and squinting at him. 

“How-you’re not dead. Why aren’t you dead like the rest of us rookie? Traitor-” 

His smile falters for a split second as he remembers last night and this morning's showers, before shrugging at him and grinning again. 

“First day on the job? Thought it might be best not to kill myself with alcohol poisoning. You do you though, it was pretty impressive to be fair Redfield-”

Chris just groans again, takes a full minute to reach down and pick up his sunglasses before sighing and slipping them back on-upside down. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever rookie-might have liver failure but I got a girls number so ain’t it worth it-”

He falls back asleep in his chair almost immediately after he finished speaking and Leon finds himself glad, relieved that he doesn’t get asked about any women or numbers or getting laid or more things he doesn’t have the first clue about. 

An uneventful few hours go by, but he meets Jill and gets given a shit ton of paperwork so he can ‘get used to the computers’. The man who gives him the stacks of files looks disappointedly at the evidently hungover officers dotted around the room before he tells Leon this, who he takes one more look at Chris (who’s elbow slips off the arm of his chair and makes his head thwack down onto the wood, before he gives up and falls asleep there instead) and chooses to just take the papers. 

About an hour later he’s made some decent progress, but gets jerked out of his focused trance when he hears a yelled ‘MORNING CHRIS!’ come from the opposite end of the room. 

The pen he’s using jerks up out of his hand onto the floor and his face takes less than two seconds to flush bright red again. 

You. 

You again. 

You making his cheeks flare with heat, heart stutter and gut tighten. What have you done to me?

He can’t help staring as you stroll into the room, evidently stifling a laugh at Chris’ dishevelled state and holding a stack of files in your arms. You’re wearing the skirt and the blouse again, but the bra Leon can ever so slightly see behind the white fabric is a different colour to yesterday. 

He wishes he hadn’t seen that because his pulse picks up the instant that registers in his mind. It gets worse still when you stop to talk to Chris and rest the files on your hip gently, leaning to one side slightly and accentuating your figure. 

Leon swallows before looking back down at his papers. But the outline of your body is printed on his eyes like he’s looked at a light bulb for too long and he can’t resist looking back up at you. 

His heartbeat quickens dangerously and his uniform feels hot all of a sudden when you look up, catching his eye and smiling as you make your way to his desk. With a thump, you drop your files onto the stack next to him. 

Leon hesitates when lifting his face to yours because he just knows how bright his cheeks are, he can feel the heat and is sure you’re about to be set alight from it. After a few seconds he does so-and finds himself struck dumb yet again by the sight of you smiling. Except this time his jaw goes a little slack because you’re smiling at him. Not at Chris, not at Jill, not anyone else. You’re smiling directly at him, just for him. Not a polite society smile either-a genuine warm expression that makes him realise how dry his lips are. His tongue darts out to wet them as he tries to think of what to say to you, but then you’re bending and picking up the pen he’d accidentally thrown into the air when you walked in. 

Still silent, he reaches to take it when you hold it out to him-smiling all the while god help him-and his fingers brush yours. Unexpectedly, his cock twitches behind his zipper and he has to work quickly to school his features. 

And then you offer him a soft ‘nice to meet you, Leon, let me know if you need anything-’ before walking back the way you came and leaving him sweating with a dry throat, red cheeks and uncomfortable tightness in his uniform trousers. 

“Pretty ain’t she?”

Chris’ words shock him out of his trance and make him splutter a little as he tries to think of an answer. 

He struggles somewhat, because his mind is distracted by the fact that yes, that’s what it is-he thinks you’re pretty. Really pretty, some kind of pretty he hasn’t seen before. 

With the other cadets and students he’d spent the last few years with, he appreciated their looks sometimes, could recognise their beauty but was never exactly attracted to them per se. Never really had a desire to act on anything or try something new-and now, for what he thinks is the first time in memory, he finds you really pretty and wants to do something about it. What that something is, he’s unsure. Unfortunate, yet not surprising. Sadly. 

He gives Chris a vague ‘mhm’ in response as he looks back down at his desk, attempting to focus back on his paperwork but failing.

“Don’t give me that rookie, know you were thinking it. We’ve all tried-”

That makes his head shoot up again, eyes widening as he looks at Chris (unsuccessfully) holding back a smirk. His heart speeds up slightly and he thinks quickly-does that mean you’re with someone? Is another officer appreciating your pretty smiles and seeing them more than Leon ever will?

“Everyone’s-what? You’ve all what?”

Chris laughs at that, bold and loud as he slips his sunglasses up onto the top of his head.

“Oh don’t look all innocent and wide eyed like you weren’t thinking of it mate-but yeah everyone has-”

He sighs as he finishes speaking before turning his head and muttering a little, “Everyone says that dude on the desk over there got closest but it was me I’m tellin ya-”

It makes Leon’s stomach flip uncomfortably, the thought of you and Chris together. He suddenly feels a little sick, when he imagines you sending sweet smiles to him, perching on Chris’ desk and letting him see more than just ghost of your bra through your shirt-

Leon blinks himself out of his spiral, gasping quietly with his second unsettling realisation of the morning. That he wants to see more of you, see what others haven’t. 

He curses himself when he sees that his hands are trembling again, overwhelmed by the connections his mind makes-that he knows you need to be attracted to someone to have sex with them, and you need to be somewhat nude. That he is attracted to you and wants to see more of your body. His leg jogs under his desk a little, bumping against the wood every so often.

He’s felt pent up before, felt like he was about to burst with energy and like he just had to do something-but he’s never felt like this before. It confuses him somewhat, the heady mix between that and of the overwhelming need he felt this morning. Shakily, he picks up his pen again and prays he won’t see you for the rest of the day, in case he loses the rest of his sanity at one glimpse of your smile.

-

Days pass almost the same way.

He wakes up sweating and gasping, unable to move because he doesn’t know what will happen. He takes a cold shower, finds himself unable to look at his own reflection. He goes to work and can’t decide whether he wants to watch you work all day or if he hopes he won’t see you at all. 

And each day ends with him going back to his apartment and wishing he spent more time with you, that he talked to you and saw your smile and the blouse you wear and the face you make when Chris tells a bad joke. You’ve consumed so much of him, make him think of you when he sees certain characters on TV, make him picture the way you frown at your computer when he picks up his laptop.

After a couple of weeks of this, of feeling his entire body pulse and heat with the smallest comment from you, he wakes in the middle of the night.

A quick look to his left tells him it’s just gone three in the morning and he wonders why he even woke at all. His neighbours aren’t playing loud music as they have an annoying habit of doing, there’s no motorbikes outside, not an intruder or even something falling over in his flat. He furrows his brow and moves to slide out from under his covers.

He barely makes it a centimetre before a whimper is forced out of him though, suddenly all too aware of the sticky mess saturating his briefs. His head is thrown back against his pillows as he gasps, letting his hips jerk up instinctively before forcing them back down to the bed.

Leon snakes a hand under the covers and over his stomach, but he hesitates when he reaches his abdomen. His skin is wet and coated in something, much like the morning after he met you-but it’s everywhere, covering his toned muscle and soaking his underwear. He pulls the sheets back and winces at the sight, wet patch covering the front of his briefs and stomach painted with a glistening sheen of something, smeared ropes all over his skin.

Absentmindedly, he registers the cloud of pleasure that hangs over his thoughts, the immense satisfaction flowing through his body. The fabric of his underwear is plastered wetly to the outline of his shaft and he reaches down again to brush his fingers over it. He accidentally traces the thick vein on the underside of his member and whimpers again, thighs trembling at the slightest bit of stimulation. 

He remembers his teen years and the few times this happened to him. He’d just brushed it off back then, taken a shower and forgotten all about it. But now he can’t. 

He can’t because all he can think of is that he’s pretty sure he was dreaming of you just before he woke up.

In his mind is the vague image of you without your blouse, lying back on his bed and teasing the cups of your bra with your fingertips. The thought makes his cock twitch and his breath hitches as the tip brushes the sodden material. His mouth drops open as he gently pulls the material away and tugs it down to his thighs, and he thinks of the pleasure he felt when he woke, unable to stop lowering his hand and rubbing his thumb over the sensitive head of his dick.

Something in his gut tightens and he lets out a broken moan when his member twitches at his touch, the tip leaking onto his skin again and adding to the mess he’s already made. 

He stumbles into his bathroom and almost falls into a cold shower, not knowing what to do apart from this. 

It feels a little like the only respite he has these days, the only thing that has managed to return his body to normal over the past couple of weeks. 

He doesn’t sleep very well for the next few hours, wondering what the next day will bring when he sees you.

-

stage 3

Leon feels his heart beat faster the moment he steps inside the station, but you’re not behind your desk. 

He reluctantly acknowledges the pang of disappointment he feels and shakes his head lightly as he walks to his desk, trying to rid himself of the distraction you inevitably cause. When he sits down he must have a frown on his face because Chris takes one look at him and tells him you had to accompany the captain somewhere-Leon feigns disinterest as he clears his throat and logs into his computer for the morning, but his fellow officer just raises his eyebrows and turns back to his own files. 

Given that you’re not there, Leon makes it through the rest of the work day without any trouble. Except for one incident. 

Unsurprisingly, it involves sex. 

It happens when he’s in the break room, using the battered coffee machine and soon wishing it worked a whole lot quicker. But it refuses to listen to his silent pleas and churns slowly, makes Leon wait for his drink while he listens to an officer-he might have been called Dave?-talk about what he did on his weekend. 

Well, more like who he did. 

Leon opens the cupboard above him, hiding his head from the officers, but his hand hesitates when he goes to grab a coffee cup. 

“Man you should’ve seen this girl-pornstar tits I’m tellin’ you-”

His eyes widen as he slowly grabs a mug. 

“No fuckin way don’t believe you-you’re always makin shit up like this-”

“I’m serious this time, god it was insane-coulda stared at those tits all day and I’d die a happy man-”

“You just stared at her? Little guy fall short did he?”

Leon closes the cupboard and sees the first guy whacking his friend on the bicep, and turns the words over in his mind, trying to figure out what they mean. 

“Course I fucked her, man-can’t see a mouth and an ass like that and be expected to not stick my dick in one of ‘em-”

Her mouth?!? Why would that happen what does her mouth have to do with it?

The other officer throws his head back, laughing loudly. 

“Aight aight, she fuck like a pornstar too then?”

Maybe this would be easier to follow if I’d seen porn. Should I? Oh god am I going to watch porn?!?

“Fuck man you bet your ass she did-you ever back shot a girl? When I pul-” 

“Oh gross man I don’t need to know about your jizz get the fuck outta here-”

They both walk out of the break room laughing and muttering to each other while Leon stands at the counter, slowly stirring his coffee. 

As he walks back to his desk, he feels a little as though he’s in some sort of daze. His mind keeps overturning what he heard, just confusedly cycling through ‘backshot’ ‘pornstar tits’ ‘little guy fall short’ and ‘jizz’. He didn’t think he’d heard so many things he was unaware the meaning of since he’d been in school. 

And it’s not like he has a teacher to ask about why he’d put his dick in someone’s mouth.

But. 

There is porn. 

His cheeks heat a little as thinks about it, and he realises he’s been staring at the wall for a few minutes. Blinking, he comes back to himself and tries to carry on with his paperwork. 

The rest of the day isn’t very productive though, as he spends it all distracted by the thought that he’s made up his mind. He’s going to watch porn, for the first time ever, tonight. 

-

When he gets home he’s jittery, like he drank too much coffee-even though he only made the one cup and then was so distracted he forgot to drink it. 

He’s torn by the urge to grab his laptop and finally learn what he should have years ago, or to try and relax first. Make dinner, have a shower, watch some tv and then…experiment. 

Leon makes dinner first and settles onto his couch to watch some tv, but unsurprisingly finds himself unable to focus for very long. His eyes keep darting to the side, flicking to where his laptop lays on the sofa beside him. A few minutes after he finishes eating, he swears quietly and gives in, grabs his laptop and tugs it onto his lap. 

He watches the tv for a few seconds before steeling himself and opening up the browser. 

Slowly, he types,

porn

And presses enter. 

He squints at his screen slightly to dampen whatever he’s about to see, and hesitantly scrolls through the page of search results. Sighing and going back to the top, he settles further into his sofa as he reads. 

pornhub

The mouse hovers over the first result. 

That’s what guys use, right?? I swear I’ve heard people mention pornhub?

With a click, he’s suddenly taken to a black background and dozens of thumbnails for various videos. 

As soon as he looks at the first one, he jerks his hands away from the keyboard and feels his eyes widen, cheeks flushing once again as he takes in the image of a woman with her mouth wide open, tongue hanging out and just the tip of a man’s cock in view, laying on the flat of it. Leon’s cock throbs painfully in his sweats, aching and pulsing as he stares at his screen. 

Clearing his throat, he tentatively looks along to the next thumbnail-an image of a woman lying back on a bed, legs spread open and exposing herself. His cock twitches as he looks at the space between her thighs, hardening rapidly as he realises that whatever coated his stomach that morning is…leaking out of her. 

A pop up flashes up on the screen, asking if he wants like minded singles in his area (anna is only 3 miles away and wants to do sex with you!) and it jerks Leon out of his trance. With a start, he shuts his laptop and shoves it onto the coffee table in front of him, leaning back and breathing heavily. His sweatpants are tented, bulge showing prominently and a small patch is dark grey, as though a droplet of something has landed on it-or soaked into it. 

He reaches a hand down, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. As expected, the moment his fingers brush over his bulge, his hips buck up and he tries to stifle the whimper that crawls up his throat. 

Dropping his hand back to the couch, he grabs his laptop again and opens it, keeping his gaze squarely focused on the top of the screen where he presses the back arrow to return to the search bar-and away from the images that make him tremble and throb. 

He decides it might be easier to take it a little slower, to actually learn some things before plunging into the deep end. Which is why he finds himself typing ‘how to touch-’. He quickly backspaces and deletes it though, scoffing at the idea that he’d have to look at some sort of sex-ed for kids/teenagers. 

Then he frowns, and realises he probably actually knows less than the average teenager. Sighing again, he types. 

how to touch myself

Wincing at his ignorance and the phrasing of his search, he presses enter and tucks a leg under himself to scroll comfortably. 

Most articles he finds are for people with vaginas and he attempts to ignore the constant ache in his member every time he reads something about a woman pleasuring herself. After a few minutes of browsing, he finds an article that seems to have what he needs. 

It’s rather clinical to begin with, but he supposes it’s what he needs, given that he barely even knows what happened this morning let alone how to touch himself when he’s conscious. 

From the first few paragraphs, he learns about orgasms and that he ‘came’ while he was asleep-also called a wet dream! He learns that it happens to teenagers a decent amount and ‘is nothing to be ashamed of!’ which immediately tells him that most people are embarrassed, and therefore makes him feel ashamed anyway. 

He learns all the clinical technical words for things, feeling slightly overwhelmed by all of it-and he also finds out about some slang and more casual words for things. He finally reads what the word ‘jizz’ means, and thinks back to earlier in the day, trying to figure out what the men were talking about. 

Clearing his mind once more, he looks back to his screen and keeps reading-next the article details how different people find different things erotic, how he might like to be touched in different places, he might not like to be touched at all, he might like someone else to touch him. It’s rather impressive, the way his mind only takes a split second to picture you. He thinks of when you handed him his pen and your fingers brushed his, the brief sensation of your skin against his and he decides just then, thinks firmly that yes, yes he does want to be touched by someone else. He really wants to be touched by someone, and he really wants it to be you. 

His mind drifts for a minute, eyes almost glazed over as he wonders what it would be like. It’s so fucking intense already when he wakes up already hard, or when he trails his fingers over himself, and he can barely even imagine what it might be like with your hands instead of his. Your smile directed at him as your fingers trace over the sensitive veins on his cock. With a quick glance down, he sees the wet patch on his sweatpants has grown slightly bigger, and he turns back to his laptop. 

After a few more minutes reading, he also learns that it will likely feel better lubricated with…something. The article suggests lube, spit, lotion-or, if he’s with a partner, their bodily fluids. Leon grimaces at that, before thinking back to the first articles he flicked through and remembering what will happen if he’s with a woman and, somehow, manages to arouse them. Even though he’s alone, he lets out a small ‘oh’ and hunches further over his laptop, still attempting to ignore how hard he is. 

Reading on, he learns a little about how to use his hands on himself, how sensitive his balls can be, that he can play with his nipples if he likes-by the time he reaches the part about trying anal his head is swimming from the overload of knowledge and he closes the tab, leaning back into the cushions and staring across at the tv. It’s playing some cooking show, but he wouldn’t be able to focus on the chef chopping spring onions if he had a gun to his head. 

By now, the way his cock is throbbing is almost unbearable, constantly jumping behind the material of his sweats and leaking obscenely from the tip-something he now knows is called precum, as a matter of fact. 

Slowly, but with a racing heart, he places his laptop on the table and leans back once more, fisting one hand in a cushion next to him. His left hand tugs at the strings on his sweats and he undoes the bow, slipping his fingertips into the waistband before pausing and thinking it’ll feel better with his right hand. 

He swaps the cushion over to have something to grip, and pushes his right hand into his trousers. 

The second he touches his member he lets out a moan, long and loud and he trails off into a gasp. Slightly clumsily, he wraps his hand around his shaft and whimpers out a quiet ‘fuck’ at the intense feeling-hastily, his hips buck up to fuck himself into his grip. 

The wave of pleasure he felt this morning rushes up at him again and he pulls his hand from his sweatpants, panting and looking down to where the flushed head of his cock peeks out under the waistband. Precum beads at the tip and he watches intently as it drips onto his abdomen, gradually sliding into the v of his hips. He briefly thinks back to the article, to how it said it might feel better with something to help him along, and he raises his right hand a little, spits in his palm and pushes it back into his sweats. 

The feeling makes him whimper and jerk again, thighs trembling and eyes squeezing shut as he spreads his spit along his cock. He flattens his hand out and slides his palm along the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins against his skin and how the heel of his thumb brushes against his weeping tip every so often. 

It barely takes twenty seconds before he’s letting out a stream of moans, whiny ‘oh oh oh’s echoing around his apartment, accompanied by the lewd squelchy noise of his spit and precum mixing. 

It almost hurts, how much he feels right now, the onslaught of pleasure that’s suddenly hitting him after all this time-and the fact that he knows now, he knows what to do and what’s going to happen, he knows he’s trying to make himself come, that god willing one day someone will do this to him, that he might be able to come inside someone-

Fleetingly, his mind pictures the woman from the second thumbnail with her legs open and come dripping out of her-but it’s you suddenly. Your face contorted in pleasure and your legs he’s seen peeking out from under your skirt, and it’s his come, his warm seed spilling from you because he’s just fucked you, just had his cock inside you and it just happens, his eyes fly open and his lips part as he moans obscenely loud. It echoes off his walls, high pitched and whiny again as he feels his cock throb, ropes of come splattering across his stomach and over his fingers. 

Without thinking he moves his hand again, sliding his palm wetly over his length once more before gasping and pulling it away, unused to the stimulation. 

Leon lays there, panting, for a few long minutes before he can even bring himself to lift his head up. What he sees makes his eyes widen-his abdomen and his hand and the top of his sweats coated in his own come, just like this morning but he made it happen this time. He touched himself for the first time, touched his dick and and knew what he was doing and knew what he was making happen, and to the thought of you no less. 

A burst of shame fills him as he remembers how he thought of you, before he tries to banish it and take things one at a time. First-a shower is in order. 

He stumbles when he pushes himself off the sofa, stabilising himself on the arm of it as he winces at the material chafing his length. With slow steps he manages to get to his bathroom and into the shower, smiling a little when he realises he won’t have to have cold showers every morning and evening now-he can just…touch himself. He knows how to now, and, quite frankly, he already feels a little desperate for the rush of pleasure it gave him again. 

When he gets out and towels himself off a few minutes later he’s still smiling somewhat, until he remembers he’ll see you tomorrow. He’s going to have to work in the same space as you for hours and hours, all while knowing the pleasure he can so easily give himself to the thought of you. 

It’s gonna be a long day, that’s for sure.

part 2

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heart to heart // sanemi shinazugawa

something about seeing you pregnant & all dressed up gets sanemi feral, he just can’t keep his hands off you, even if you have plans.

click here to be tagged in my next work :)

content warnings: ageless blogs/minors dni - fem!reader - pregnancy mentions & pregnancy sex - reader in a dress - unprotected sex - sweet/intimate sex - handjob - slight praise - a bit of teasing - nicknames - not beta read its 4am lol

note: happy late mothers day, i spent more time on the banner than i did on the fic (/j) because i had a specific idea and now its no longer mothers day but hey, fuck it we ball

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