Thinking About Leon Kennedy And How He Talks You Through Another Orgasm And How He's Just The Softest

thinking about leon kennedy and how he talks you through another orgasm and how he's just the softest dom - 🐀

i love love love gentle dom leon so much <3

“c’mon, sweetheart, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

his voice is gentle against your ear, evading your senses in such a way it has you feeling just the slightest bit overwhelmed by the sensation of it all. it was a stark contrast to the way his fingers pistoned in and out of your drooling cunt. it had been difficult to keep still after the second orgasm, and the third one had left leon with no choice but to keep your legs pried apart with his own. confusion plagued your mind, only managing to seep in passing waves amidst the rampant pleasure.

“leon, can’t,” your words were slurred as your body trembled, thighs trying their absolute hardest to clamp shut around his incessant hand. “too much, too much, please-!”

the soft coos and gentle shushing had you keening, eyes rolling back at the curl of skilled fingers, thumb unwavering against your swollen clit.

“you’re so good for me, so pretty,” leon grinned as he watched your back bow for the umpteenth time that night. your cries of ecstasy reverberated in the otherwise quiet room. as you came, body shuddering and writhing about in the comfort of his arms, leon eased you through the aftermath of your climax. chest heaving, your eyes finally slipped shut. your thoughts had finally cleared, coherency beginning to front itself once again.

“one more time?” leon’s hand went to rub at your thighs, taking pleasure in the way you canted into his touch. “let me see you cum on my cock, baby.”

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 obsession

Pairing: ID!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Training the rookies was a pain until he met her. His sweetest new obsession, he wouln't stop till he was buried deep inside her.

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap (not too much! i imagined leon being 37 and the reader being 23-25, so everyone is legal and consenting! Its not his age in ID but i use it only bc of the character background), p in v, eating out, riding, breeding kink, leon is obsessed!, a small housewife kink.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ on repeat: exo - obsession

Notes: Got too excited and posted without proofreading it! If i missed anything, please let me know so i can correct it! Also, when will tumblr make a pastel pink theme for the dashboard? I hate that everything we have is either a sad/gloomy hipster or raging gothic theme.

From all his years working at the D.S.O, Leon was stressed pretty much all the time, never catching a break, too exhausted. That showed on the increasing wrinkles forming from his frowns, and the occasional white hair that appeared on top of his head. In his non-existent breaks, he had another thing on his belt: training the new agents.

At first, it was a pain in the ass, watching those morons do the same mistake over and over, it really made Leon think it was getting too easy to be a D.S.O agent. Some repeated the same mistakes over and over again, and because of it, Leon frequently lost his patience, soon getting known as a hardass.

As time went by, he began losing hope for the future of the department, until she came through. Pretty body, voice as soothing as a canary and delicious lips that called for him. And the best thing was that she was better than all of these morons, throwing down even the experienced rookies.

Since Ada, Leon didn’t know what it was like to be this obsessed with a woman. He wanted to know her next step, have her by his side all the time, know how her soft skin feels underneath his rough fingertips. He dreamed of her, and caught himself checking her out more than he should. Chris always teased him in private, telling him “his star student is making him turn back to his twenties”. God, they had a small age gap, but thinking about it only made his cock throb. Maybe dealing with rookies made his mind turn him back to his twenties.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

As their “graduation” got closer in time, all the new agents began training more, but none were like her. She came in first and left after all of them, always using the training gym by herself the most she could. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Leon offered private training, becoming a private tutor to her.

Instead of making things easy, it just caused him to become even more addicted to her - he now knew her thoughts, her quirks and her perspectives. As they spent more and more time together, it was clear that she found him attractive too - he knew he was still successful with women, after all (even if he was more dumped than anything). Leon had cemented in his mind that he needed her, and now he just needed to find a way to approach her.

She will be all his.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

One of the nights, he had to spend in his office reading and filing boring documents, Leon heard a gentle knock on his door. “Come in” he simply answered, and to his surprise - and excitement, it was his little star. She entered his office, and her usual sparkly eyes were dull, the poor thing was too tired, working herself too much.

“What happened, rookie? You look exhausted. Working too much to bring me down?” Leon said with a smirk

“Ha, you wish, sir.” Oh, how that term made his pants tighten. “I just came for help, I don’t know. I’ve been focusing on sharpening my skills for the admission test, but I don’t know…” she said unsure

“Hey, don’t tell the rest, but you’re the only one that I would bet on getting in” he reassured her, standing up and taking a seat beside her in his couch “You’re too much in your head, agent”

“I know, I just can’t turn it off…” she whined, making Leon think how she would sound if he made her cum around his cock

That 's it. That was Leon’s chance to get his favorite student. He put a hand on her thigh, not too close to her precious cunt and said quietly to her “It’s alright, sweetheart… I can help you, if you want”

She knew where this was going, and it turned her on more than she thought. Feigning innocence, she pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, nodding “But… How, sir?” and looked at his lips

Leon smiled, caressing her jaw “let me fill your mind, rookie. Why don’t you sit at my desk, hm?”

She stood up and slowly went to his desk, sitting on it and letting her head fall to the side, as if to question him “what’s next?” with her body language. Leon follows her, standing between her legs and letting his hands caress the outer side of her thighs. His face lowers to her neck, his kisses and his stubble causing a warm sensation to run through her skin. A soft gasp left her lips, her hands caressing the back of his head.

Feeling him smirk against her skin, he kept placing slow and gentle kisses, adding some nibbles on the mix “That’s what my best student needs, right? A real man to touch her”

He lays her on his desk, pushing his papers aside, pulling her hips into his - his cock adding a nice weight to her sensitive wetness. He slowly pushed her shirt up, watching her beauty for a moment “You’re perfect, baby”. As he whispered the praise, her cheeks blushed more, a soft giggle leaving her lips. He finally kissed her lips and both were hungry for each other, to quench the thirst they had been accumulating after months.

Leon swiftly undoes her bra, not wasting any time and circling his tongue around her nipples, sucking and lightly nibbling it. Underneath him, her breath quickens, as she whines freely as he teased her. Trying to ease their ache, Leon grinds their centers together, his cock so hard that his zipper presses against his member.

Soon, he removed her pants, kissing as her skin showed - inch by inch. Again, his stubble creates goosebumps in her legs, as he worshiped her body - she deserved it, after all, he wanted to make her addicted to him and his taste. Watching her panties so drenched as they were glued to her pussy, he couldn't help but nuzzle into her bundle of nerves, causing a gentle jump on her. He kissed and licked the wet spot, as if trying to eat her up.

“F-fuck, please take them off, sir” she whined, not even realizing that she kept the term. Leon, deciding that he wasn’t in a teasing mood, guided the clothing down, letting his pretty star all spread on his desk - his to take, to tease, to fuck, to breed.

“Shit, baby girl, you are so wet for your teacher… you wanted me to take you, right? You wanted me to go crazy and drench my face with you. huh?” He teased her as he got on his knees, aligning his face against her cunt. She was so red, puffy and wet, not even the most delicious candy could compare to her.

His tongue tasted her at first with kitten licks, causing a loud moan to rip from her mouth. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t want anyone coming here and seeing you spread out like a needy slut, right?” at his comment, and as if teasing her, he finally sucked and rolled his tongue around her clit, letting his index finger circle her wet entrance. Almost as if she was distressed, she cupped her mouth with her hand, rolling her eyes back at the pleasure.

Pushing his finger forward, slowly, until he's entirely inside her, he kept eating her out with gusto, as if he was a starved man. Soon, what was one finger turned into two, her juices were flowing through his palm as he began to be more desperate for her - but he wouldn’t stop till she let him taste her entirely. “It feels good, doesn’t it, my doll? I’m the only man and only one for you, gonna make sure to keep this pussy satisfied till I die”.

His fingers and mouth worked more ferociously, pussy drunk wasn’t even close to describe how he was feeling.On the other end, she had tears in her eyes as one hand didn’t leave her mouth as the other one tugged his hair hard, making him moan against her drenched cunt. “S-sir, o-oh g-god…need to c-cum!” she pleased, looking down at him with glazed eyes.

“Do it, baby girl, give it to me” he ushered her, maintaining the pace till she finally coated his fingers, tongue and mouth with her essence. As her ‘little death’ came, she felt as if fireworks erupted inside her mind - none of her exams daring to creep up on her mind.

He praised and marked her thighs as she came down from her high. The girl pulled Leon into a passionate kiss, smiling in contentment, reaching cloud 9000. Pulling away, she whispered against his lips “Let me repay you, Leon. Wanna make you feel just as good”

“Not today, doll.” He whispered, sitting back in his chair and pulling his pants and underwear down, patting his lap “I know how to help you even further”, he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Like an excited bunny, she hopped off his desk and jumped into his lap, resuming her kisses on his mouth - casually descending into his jaw and neck, enjoying the pleased hums that he lets out. He palmed her ass and firmly grabbed it, giving some gentle smacks as she had his fun with him. To Leon, in all of his life, that was his happiest moment: having his pretty princess on his lap, all naked, hypnotized in kissing and feeling him up.

“Go ahead, baby, let me finally empty your mind and use you” he calmly ordered her, caressing her cheeks adoringly. Soon, she positioned herself and slowly sat down on his cock, rolling her eyes back and holding into his chair behind him.

“S-so b-big…” she moaned, her head falling into his shoulders as the girl swallowed all of him. She was so tight, wet and perfect, Leon almost came deep in her cunt just by her inserting him. His head got dizzy for a moment, his hold on her ass tightening, as he grunted and pressed his eyes closed.

Dedicatedly, she began jumping up and down on his cock, their skin slapping as the woman looked directly into his eyes. If anyone saw them at that moment, they would attest that both had heart in their eyes. her tits jumped up and down in front of him, making his tongue and fingers play with them as the couple lost their minds in pleasure.

“Good job, doll… jumping on my cock like the good girl you are… it’s all for you, always for you” he said rambling in pleasure, busying his mouth to tell her praises and roll her sensitive nipples on his tongue, as her cunt drenched his cock, causing a white ring at the base.

Holding tightly into the back of his chair, her hips worked even faster on him, making Leon moan more frequently in pleasure, slapping her ass, leaving behind his handprints on her pretty skin. His head falls back as he watches the goddess in front of him taking what's hers and milking his cock into her hungry pussy. He would make sure that she passed her admission check, so every end of shift he would breed her cunt, till she is finally all of his - the mother of his children, his pretty wife. But that’s a talk for later.

After some minutes pass, Leon takes over and thrusts from below, making her body turn into his own ragdoll, her moans flowing freely into his mouth. Some minutes passed, and both were on the brink of their orgasm, so close to reaching their true paradise “Will you let me fill you, doll? Make your womb so full of me, gonna make you get home with me drenching on your legs” he taunted her.

Not handling much more teasing, and his words serving as a catalyst to her peak, she nods and coats his cock with her sweet arousal, biting down on his shoulder to drown out her sounds. Her roughness and the new tight hold on his cock makes him spill into her gummy walls, emptying himself. Finally, he marked her as his. His doll, his love, his property.

Both were coming down from their highs, trying to control their breathing, letting their heartbeat slow down. He caressed her hair, kissing her cheeks and nuzzling their noses together, all smiles. “So, did I help?” he asked jokingly.

“Didn’t even know why I came here” she answers teasingly.

From now on, Leon would never be exhausted for the wrong reasons ever again.

815 notes View Post

fouyumixuri

10 months ago

hii 💕 i have a leon oneshot request!

basically leon has been gone on a mission for much longer than expected and reader is soso worried it is eating them alive. and then one night in the middle of the night reader hears the door open so theyre scared because god knows who it could be so they go to check and its leon! theres then crying from the reader and lots of love and comfort that eventually leads to sweet comfort sex 💓

idk if you take requests on specific versions of leon but og re4 is my favorite version 😋 if you dont thats fine <3

Of course I take requests for specific versions of Leon!

I haven't written for OG RE4 Leon before but I tried my best to capture his sass/surliness. So here's what I think comfort sex would look like for him :)

Lmk if you want anything changed! I'm super happy to edit it as much as you'd like so it better suits your vision~

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

OG RE 4 Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Synopsis: Leon comes home after a prolonged mission.

Tags: 18+ (smut), MDNI, hurt/comfort, established relationship, re4!Leon, AFAB reader, oral (m receiving), p in v, cowgirl position, missionary position, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, mutual comfort sex (Leon has feelings, too!)

WC: 6,270

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You’d tried everything to quell your roiling stomach: chamomile tea, peppermint tea, shots of apple cider vinegar, a whole bottle of Tums consumed over the course of three days (which, now that you think about it, could have actually worsened your condition). You’d gone on walks to distract yourself. You’d taken a yoga class with a close friend. You’d taken pilates with a not-so-close friend. And in an act of utter desperation, you’d called your mom to make small talk about the weather and her current hobbies just so you wouldn’t have to stew in your own thoughts.

But your anxiety hadn’t been assuaged, not even remotely. In fact, it festered, kept alive and well-fed by your incessant tears and the late nights spent hunched over the porcelain bowel of a toilet. Like black mold clinging to the back of your kitchen cabinet, it thrived on your misery, on the dampness of your cheeks, on the way your breathy screams humidified the gelid, sterile air of your bedroom when you had yet another gruesome nightmare.

Leon had been gone for almost two months now and he hadn’t called. Not once. Not a singular call wherein he’d sit silently on the line just so you could hear him breathe. Not a singular email or text or goddamn smoke signal to indicate that he was still alive.

He’s a callous man, though, not one to share his emotions so openly. He’d improved with you; he’d developed a heart when you’d sobbed and half-heartedly beat his stupidly toned chest with the sides of your fists the last time he’d been gone for a while. He’d developed a habit of calling you at least once a week. Sometimes he’d speak, but most of the time he’d just let you do all the talking. That was enough, usually, and he never complained — well, not after you’d given him a proper tongue lashing for his total lack of sympathy.

Leon’s apology had been sincere. He’d gotten you flowers, taken you to a lavish dinner, and showered you with expressions of deep remorse. He’d made up for it in the bedroom, too, and how could you really stay mad at him after that?

Easily, you think now. You can easily stay mad at him. He’ll have to do a lot more than bring you to climax a couple of times to make up for this — if he’s alive, that is.

You let out a small sob. He could very well be dead now. He could very well be dead and you’ll have no way of knowing. It’s not like you two are married — you’d been dating for a while, but nowhere near that level of commitment. You wonder if the U.S. government paid courtesy visits to girlfriends. He didn’t have family, and all of his friends were also government employees, so they’d certainly know well before you did if he’d made it out alive.

You remove the heating pad sitting on your stomach, roll out of bed, and pad over to Leon’s dresser. You’re close to exhausting his supply of t-shirts, so you’d taken to rationing them like some kind of doomsday prepper. They’re now reserved for nights you’ll predictably get little to no sleep, but when was the last time you’d slept through the night, anyway? No wonder you’re down to his last three shirts.

It still smells like him, like leather and whiskey and cedar wood. You take off the shirt you’re currently wearing—it’s also his but his scent isn’t as pungent—and slip the new one on over your aching body. You bring the collar to your nose, inhaling deeply. Tears prick your lids. God, how are you not out of tears yet? But a muffled jingling of keys and the distinguishable sound of the front door unlocking breaches the silence that had befallen your apartment these past two months.

Your blood turns to ice as you hear the door creak. It’s shut with painstaking care. You tiptoe across the room, and extract a baseball bat from underneath your side of the bed. You return to Leon’s dresser, reach into the drawer, and silently sheath the length of the bat within one of Leon’s socks.

There’s shuffling coming from the other room. Heavy boots on hardwood make minimal noise as they creep into—are they in the kitchen? You want to laugh; you’ve never before had a hungry burglar. Cabinets creak open and shut. The fridge door, sticky and always more difficult to open than one would assume because Leon had fucked with its hinges when he was trying to be “helpful”, opens a second later. Its dim yellow light is visible through the crack in the bedroom doorframe. You can faintly see a broad silhouette standing before it.

Leon’s apartment isn’t large. The bedroom feeds directly into an open plan living room and kitchen. You could use this opportunity to sneak up on the intruder. Judging by their stature, they can’t be too much taller or stronger than you but you’d be foolish to assume you could beat anyone in hand-to-hand. And what if they have a gun?

You resolve to stay put, to stay hidden. They’re likely to come into the bedroom anyway. You’ll get the jump on them as they enter. You take a deep breath, bat clutched tightly between two hands, and ready yourself behind the door. You’ve never killed anyone before; you hope you won’t have to do so tonight, especially with a bat. That just sounds preposterously messy.

The fridge door is closed. A plate is dropped in the sink. A stream of curse words are emitted in hushed tones. Your breath hitches at the familiarity of the voice but you shake your head and chalk the resemblance up to your own pathetic optimism. Leon would’ve called. Leon would’ve given you a heads up. Leon would’ve—

The footsteps grow closer. Your heart is practically in your throat. Shit, you curse to yourself, shit shit shit shit shit. You press your back against the wall, bat clutched tightly between white-knuckled fists. You try to make yourself as small as possible, to shrink to the point of imperceptibility, and as the door opens, you hold your breath.

Your draw blood as you bite the inside of your cheek; its metallic tang inspires waves of nausea. The door slowly closes. You clench your teeth, and flex your taut fingers along the handle of the bat. Your heart is in your throat. The intruder pauses after closing the door, glancing curiously around the room. And just before they’re about to turn around, you bring the bat down over their head. They somehow manage to catch the it before it makes contact.

“—Wait, stop,” they shout.

You can hardly hear them over the roaring of blood in your ears. You pull the bat toward you, subsequently unsheathing it and leaving the intruder holding only the makeshift scabbard. You swing it horizontally with as much strength as you can muster. It makes a sickening whack as it collides with the person’s stomach. They stumble backward, one arm wrapped tightly around their abdomen. The other arm is outstretched, in search of something along the wall next to the door.

And before you’re able to ready a third swing, the lights turn on in the bedroom, and you come to the realization that the intruder isn’t an intruder at all — it’s Leon.

You gasp and bring your hands to cup your mouth. The bat falls to the ground with a resounding thud.

“LEON?!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he manages to choke out in between retches. He’s heaving; the collision had winded him entirely. He slumps against the wall and slides down to sit on the hardwood flooring. “That was a—that was a good swing.”

“Leon, oh my god,” you shout, rage replacing your initial shock. “Leon, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

“It’s my apartment.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, asshole. How are you alive?”

Leon lets out a labored chuckle and rests his head back on the wall, “Believe it or not, I’m good at my job.”

“Clearly,” you spit. “Clearly you’re so fucking good at your job that you managed to stay under the radar for two months. I haven’t heard from you in two months, Leon. I thought you were fucking dead.”

“Which is why I expected a warmer welcome. Fuck me, I guess.”

The anger flaring in your chest abates as you finally take him in — bruised, battered, bloody, and filthy. His clothes are ripped, his lip is swollen. He must have come straight home, you realize. He hadn’t stopped to so much as sign his name on a report. He won’t look at you—can’t look at you—when your irises hold such ire. You take a few steps toward him, fists curled tightly at your sides. “Yeah, fuck you,” you spit.

“Fuck you, Leon,” you repeat, voice cracking slightly.

Tears cascade down your cheeks in fat rivulets now. “Fuck you.”

You collapse to your knees at his feet. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Leon Kennedy.”

But your tone lacks conviction; syllables spill from your chapped lips in an unprotected free-fall. Your words are slurred, garbled by the tightness in your throat. You grab fistfuls of his shirt, and bury your face in his chest. It’s quickly soaked through, but Leon doesn’t dare move except to gently cradle the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“You s-should be,” you hiccup. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know.”

“I was fucking worried sick.”

“I know.”

“I called my mom, Leon. I called my mom, and spoke to her for an hour because I hadn’t heard from you in weeks.”

“Shit,” Leon chuckles, “that bad, huh?”

A wet giggle escapes your throat, “Yeah, asshole. That bad.”

He holds you tightly, sore arms coiled around your shoulders. You want to squirm out of his hold, to recoil at the feel of his calloused hands through the thin t-shirt. You want to revile his absenteeism, his negligence, his indifference. A scream bubbles in your chest, a simultaneous cry of apostasy and piety now that he’s home. The acrid sting of bile kisses the back of your tongue. You choke it back; you choke back your anger, too, because it’s irrelevant now. It’s petulant. It’s ungrateful.

He’s home. He’s home and he’s holding you. He’s home and he’s holding you and you’re holding him.

You pull away to look at him more fully, as if in disbelief that this isn’t yet another nightmare. But then the scent from his soiled clothing wafts in your direction as if affirming his existence.

Your nose crinkles as you say, “You smell awful.”

“Two months in the middle of nowhere will do that to you,” Leon chuckles.

You inspect his shredded knuckles and the healing gashes along his forearm. “Middle of nowhere do this to you, too?”

He catches a stray tear with a hooked finger, “Classified, sweetheart. You know that.”

All you can do is nod. You bite the inside of your cheek. He cups the side of your face, and brings your forehead to meet his.

“I missed you,” he whispers. “I thought of you every night, if that helps.”

“It does… and it doesn’t.”

“You’re fickle.”

“You’re unreliable.”

Leon exhales humorously through his nose. “I’m trying my best not to be.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know it’s not your fault, too.”

Leon’s shoulders drop. He swallows thickly, frustration scrabbling for dominance in his aching chest. It doesn’t win out, though, and he clenches his jaw as the tear he’d been suppressing for the better part of his conversation splashes onto his scabbed hand. You kiss away the subsequent tears. He notices the dryness of your lips, but doesn’t mind. You’d been through it — he’d put you through it. His stomach flips at the thought of you writhing in bed at night, at the thought of you weeping into his pillow, utterly alone.

You stop kissing his tears when they become overwhelming, when he starts sobbing into your shoulder and uses your shirt as a catchall instead.

“Leon,” you sigh, “Leon, it’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he manages to choke out. “I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart.”

“I know you are. It’s okay. Don’t cry; I’m here.”

It takes a few minute for Leon to regain his composure but you don’t mind. You’d gladly spend the rest of the night pulling him into your chest, coiling around him like a snake just to ensure that he never left again. You run your fingers through his matted hair, gently untangling the knots riddling his chestnut tresses with each pass. You lightly scratch the nape of his neck. He hugs you more tightly when you do; it’s his favorite. He kisses your neck as a show of gratitude. You refrain from kissing his cheek — it’s coated in a thin layer of dirt. You’ll need to bathe again. Leon’s the first to pull away.

“You know,” he sniffles, “that’s not what this sock is for.”

He holds up the sock you’d used to sheath the bat with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No shit, it’s a sock.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Your brows furrow first in confusion, then in disgust. “God, Leon,” you grimace, pushing at his shoulders.

He wraps his arms around your waist, and works to keep you locked in his embrace.

“Let me go!” You shout.

“Were you not just crying because you missed me, sweetheart?”

“I changed—my mind. Go away—forever,” you giggle between pathetic tries at freedom.

“So fickle,” he laughs. You shriek with laughter as he blows a raspberry into your neck, and tickles your sides. You fall onto your back in your forlorn attempt to escape; he follows suit but he’s unrelenting in his assault. He kneels between your legs, swatting away your taloned hands with ease. His laugh is rich albeit hoarse and gravelly from weeks of overuse; yours is similar in tone.

Panic rises in your chest as his tickles continue. Your ribs are growing sore, your lungs are screaming for air. In desperation, you prod his stomach with your foot. Thankfully, he takes the hint, and stops. Leon places his hands on your knees. You sit up on your elbows, melting beneath the warmth of his gaze.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you sigh, nodding toward the bathroom with a small smile.

He reciprocates your smile then helps you onto your feet. His hands don’t leave yours as you walk to the bathroom, or as you start the shower. He lets you undress him, lets you lower yourself onto your knees and make quick work of the laces on his boots. He watches as your fingers furl around the tattered fabric of his compression shirt, gingerly remove his belt, and undo the buttons on his fatigues. You don’t make eyes contact. You don’t think you’d be able to finish without crying if you did.

Leon’s thankful, of course. He wouldn’t have made it through without crying either. He wasn’t lying when he told you he’d dreamt of you every night. He hadn’t been trying to placate you with empty platitudes — you’d occupied his every thought.

It had been his most strenuous mission thus far, the most physically and emotionally taxing. Only his horrific sense of humor—your words, not his; he thinks he’s hilarious—and the prospect of coming home to you had kept him alive. Maybe he’d tell you about it someday. Unlikely, but he so desperately wants to share this part of himself with you. He’s sick of walking through the world feeling unknown, like a fraction of a human or wandering specter whose soul is tethered to both realms.

His fingers find the hem of your—his—t-shirt, and pulls it over your head with aching, uncharacteristic geniality. You step out of your panties, eyes fixed on the extensive bruising along his torso. You run a tentative finger along the length of a particularly deep wound. He suppresses a wince, terrified of worrying you further.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he croaks. “You’re not that strong.”

You snort. “I should focus upper body next time I’m at the gym then. That way I can give you what you actually deserve.”

He gives you a soft smile, cupping the nape of your neck. “You wouldn’t prefer that I train you instead?”

“So I can hear quip after quip about how weak I am? Absolutely not.”

“Ouch,” he rasps, “you have no faith in me.”

“None at all.”

His lips ghost over yours. “Then why is it my name you always scream when we’re having—?”

“They’re curses, Leon, not prayers,” you sigh.

The nails on Leon’s free hand dig into the plush of your hips. “Right,” he affirms, voice low and gravelly, “they’re curses when you’re on your back, but prayers when you’re on your knees.”

He walks you back into the glass door of his standing shower. You gasp as your fevered skin makes contact with the cooled glass. He nips your earlobe, and presses gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Then what’ll it be tonight, sweetheart: curses or prayers?”

“Neither if you don’t get in the shower,” you gasp. “You smell like a fucking sewer.”

He tosses his head back in laughter. “I’d’ve preferred the sewers in all honesty. But fine,” he kisses your cheek, “I’ll be good and listen.”

“For once.”

“Only once,” he confirms, stepping into the steady stream of hot water. His hands find yours once more as you step in after him. His voice soften when he asks, “Don’t let go of me, yeah?”

“I won’t.”

Leon hums in approval, his hold on your hands tightening as he closes his eyes. When he’s confirmed that you’re here, you’re present, you’re real and with him, he allows his head to loll back and the water to drench his neglected scalp.

Your fingers trail up his torso, his chest, his neck, and weave into his hair once more. Your lower lip tucked nervously between your teeth as you usher him out from beneath the shower head. You let go of his hand. His chest rises as a breath gets caught in his throat, and falls once he realizes what you’re doing.

“I’m going to let go, but just to get the shampoo,” you say. “Ready?”

He clenches his jaw then nods. It devastates you, how tense he grows in the absence of your touch. You lather the eucalyptus shampoo in your hands. It’s his favorite scent, the only one that soothes him when he returns from missions. You delicately work it into his hair, paying particular attention to the nape of his neck, and his temples. His deft thumbs mirror your ministrations, tracing circles along your pelvic bones.

“Okay, rinse,” you instruct softly.

He listens, leaning back into the water. And you repeat this process, not once compromising the fragility with which you slough off the dirt and grime from his tired body. It melts off him like second skin, collecting in muddy puddles around your feet. Once he’s clean, he returns the favor: he lathers minty smelling soap along your arms, your legs, the valley of your breasts. His unoccupied hand trails after the fluffy loofah, kneading your soft skin in grounding, almost as if he’s committing your body to memory.

You’re cleansed from the pain of the past two months, scrubbed raw and vulnerable and anew by the same hands that had caused it. His marred body tells the most unholy of tales, but you’d done your best to dispel the horrors it had endured. He appreciates it—appreciates you— and the effort you expel to wash away as much of his sins as possible. They’ll never go away, the scars. He wishes they would, wishes he could flush them away as easily as you had scoured the debris and filth from his wounds. They serve as a constant reminder of his culpability, of his part in your misery.

But then you kiss the winding scar tissue bisecting his chest. It had healed improperly, leaving the skin gnarled and warped and puckered at its pink seams. He’d sustained the injury shortly after deployment. He’d worried endlessly about the way you’d react. He’d ruminated on the possibility that you’d reject him, that you’d find him utterly repugnant. He’d mulled over every possibility except this.

And it nearly does him in.

His chest collapses the closer your lips come to his heart, and once he feels your gentle kisses settle over the muscle with stinging finality, it collapses, too. He grips your wrists; your hands flex in surprise.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“I love you,” he returns, peppering the insides of your wrists with warm kisses. You watch him intently, curiously. He winces as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. Your eyes widen; he strokes the sensitive flesh of your wrist with a calloused thumb in dismissal.

“Did you hear me,” he asks with a chuckle. “I said I love you.”

“I know,” you giggle. “I was just making up my mind if I’ll be cursing or praying to you.”

“Oh? What have you decided?”

“Wouldn’t you rather me show you?”

“Absolutely,” he grins. He flinches harshly as he reaches behind him to shut off the water. You grab his waist reflexively, worry grappling at your chest. Leon gives you a sheepish smile. You give him a pointed look in reciprocation before stretching your arm past him, and turning the knob.

You usher him out of the shower, push past him, and retrieve one of the plush white towels hanging from behind the bathroom door. You dry each other off, unhurried touches taking on different meaning as the towel and curious hands graze over sensitive skin. You let out a small whimper as he cups your breast and his lips leave slow, fevered kisses along the column of your neck.

“Bed,” you gasp. He hums in approval.

You stumble backward through the bathroom door, body still warm and damp from the shower, but before collapsing onto the bed, you flatten your hand against Leon’s chest.

“Curses,” you breathe. “But they won’t be mine tonight.”

He arches an eyebrow in question, so you guide him onto his back in wordless explanation. His eyes soften as realization dawns.

“Sweetheart—“

“Please let me, Leon. Please.”

And how could he say no? He can’t very well argue, not when your eyes glitter in supplication and excitement. But he can’t acquiesce to your desires right away. That would be wholly uncharacteristic.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he says with a facsimile of a pout. He places his hands neatly behind his head, and gives you an expectant smile, eyes flicking from your mouth to his half-hardened cock. Your immediate frown dissolves into a warm smile as his breath stutters, shattering the facade.

You take his length in one hand, and with agonizing care, stroke him from base to tip. He swallows thickly, cock twitching in anticipation. God he’d missed this. He’d missed the feel of your soft hands working him into submission. His eyes flutter shut, breath hitching as your lips find the gruesome scar defacing his muscular chest once again.

“I’ve missed you so much, Leon,” you whine, hand quickening in its ministrations. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He hardens in your hands, a sharp juxtaposition to the way his muscles relax the closer your mouth comes to his throat. You suck on the delicate flesh, nip it until it flushes red, then lavish it with apologetic kisses. The love marks you leave behind are meant to compensate for the violence shown to the rest of his body — it desperately needs reminding of how deeply you cherish it.

You capture his lips with your own, slip your tongue into his mouth and pour as much affection, as much frustration and relief and adoration into it as possible. He returns the action in kind, hands leaving the base of his neck to cup your face. He pulls you closer, kisses you more deeply, and litters your neck with bruises of his own.

Arousal spreads like spilled sunshine in your lower abdomen, warming you from within. You feel yourself grow damp as he palms your breasts, as he rolls a pert nipple between two fingers. He cups your cunt with his free hand; you can’t help but keen at the contact.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he rasps. “Did you touch yourself at all while I was gone?”

“No,” you admit, heat rising to your cheeks. You whimper as he parts your lips, and coats his finger in your essence. “No, it doesn’t compare.”

“Damn right it doesn’t,” he groans as you swipe your thumb across the tip of his cock. “Am I going to get to taste you tonight?”

“Later,” you keen. “For now, just lay back, okay?”

He doesn’t listen immediately, too reluctant to retract his hand from between your legs. You have to pry him from you, beg for him to let you make your longing known. Smiles spread across both of your faces at the playful struggle that ensues: Leon pinches your nipple, you squeeze his cock, and urge him to lay back by threatening to cease all ministrations until he obliges. He chuckles sweetly as your expression softens, as you resume pumping his length, and trail wet kisses down his torso.

You bat your eyelashes at him coquettishly as you reach his pelvis, fingernails sinking into the flesh of his thighs. He emits a small grunt of approval, hips bucking in anticipation. His eyes grow glassy, unfocused in his lust for you. He tries to close his eyes but the attempt is met with a sharp nip to his upper thigh.

“Eyes on me, Leon.”

He opens his mouth to protest, retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s drowned out by a guttural growl. You drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, eye contact unwavering. You take him in your mouth slowly, inch by inch, the salty tang of his precum sending waves of desire through your system.

Your pace is slow at first, hesitant more than self-assured. It grows quicker as you acclimate to his size. You hadn’t forgotten how large he is — in fact, you’d been looking forward to the day when he’d mold you to himself once again, to the day he’d stretch you so thin you’d see sparks behind your fluttering lids. But your lungs can’t keep up with the pace with which you take him and soon enough, you see the blackened wisps of asphyxiation enter your periphery. You slip a hand between your legs, and rub tight concentric circles along your clit. You use your free hand to compensate for what your mouth can’t reach.

You moan around him as your orgasm builds; he moans in return, savoring the way the sound reverberates through his system. He cradles the back of your head, strokes it lovingly as you take him deeper, deeper, deeper. The coil in his stomach tightens — he’s so close. He can tell you’re close, too, based on the arrhythmic tempo with which you take him.

An overwhelming need to take you, to hold you, to make you his once again grapples at his chest. It had been so long since he’d had you, so long since he’d showered you with praise and affection. He feels his consciousness slipping, mind growing fuzzy as his arousal reaches a fever pitch. He wants to tell you to keep going; he need to tell you to stop. But his words come out as garbled nonsense the more you tighten your lips around his length and the more you hollow out your cheeks.

Unable to control himself much longer, he thrusts up into you. You’re taken aback, gagged as the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You give him a warning glare, pausing halfway down his cock, tears pricking the inner corners of your eyes. He could come from the heat of your scowl alone.

“S-sorry,” he chuckles as the fog slowly lifts, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.

He sits up to caress the back of your head. You mirror his posture, removing his cock from your mouth to press your forehead to his. He’s mesmerized by the way your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath.

“I just… didn’t think we’d get the chance to do this again,” he whispers through a choked sob.

And you heart shatters. You take his face in your hands. Tears threaten to spill forth, threaten to snuff out the heat building between your legs, but the gentility with which he holds you, the heaviness of his breathing, the ease with which he sweeps you onto his lap, stokes the fire nonetheless.

“I need you,” he whispers, “I need to feel you. Please.”

“You have me, Leon,” you keen, softly rolling your hips along his length. “You have me. I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

You readjust to straddle him more wholly, knees caging in his eager hips. You roll your hips gently along his length, coating him in your essence. His head slumps forward into your breasts. You stroke his hair.

“I love you, Leon. I love you so much.”

“God,” he rasps, “God, I fucking love you, too, sweetheart.”

He admires the way the plush skin along your hips bubbles beneath his grip. You’re so soft, so sweet, so lush and comforting. His chapped lips latch onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, stifling a lascivious moan. Leon urges you to keep moving, keep gyrating along his aching cock. You’re happy to oblige, meeting the steady pace he’s setting with his hands.

“Inside me, baby,” you gasp, “I want you inside me.”

Leon lifts your hips just long enough to align the head of his cock with your entrance. Your hold on his hair tightens as you feel him push the tip inside, You clench your teeth, and shut your eyes in anticipation, only to receive a sharp, playful slap to you ass. You glare down at him, eyes alight with indignation, mouth agape.

“I need your eyes open, sweetheart,” he growls, tightening his hold on your hips. “I want you to look at me while you fuck me. And I promise—,” he bucks his hip up into yours, “that I”ll return the favor.”

You let out a filthy moan as Leon thrusts his cock into you. Your cunt is so tight, so wet after two months of neglect. He slips right in, from tip to base, without much struggle. But the dampness of your cunt and the depths of your arousal don’t negate the blinding pleasure you feel from being stretched to your breaking point. You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, you pull at his hair, you try to cling to something—to anything—in a desperate attempt to stay grounded. But through it all, you don’t dare break eye contact. You don’t dare look away from his darkening irises — once a startling blue, now a deep, sensual indigo. You don’t dare deny him the opportunity to watch you come undone.

“Leon,” you keen. “Fuck, Leon, it’s s-so much.”

You press your forehead to his again, and work to match his bruising pace. He takes one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and lapping at your pert nipple while he watches your pupils widen.

You’re so stunning like this, he thinks, so sweet when your lips have turned a startling crimson, swollen from his kisses. And he can’t help the elation rising in his chest when you moan his name or when your pussy, dripping with arousal, tightens around his cock. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, the only one who could bring this out of you, and that knowledge nearly sends him over the edge.

White spots blossom in your vision the head of his cock kisses your cervix. You grind on him. You gyrate and bounce and roll your hips in your frantic search for release. His cock twitches within you. His grip becomes bruising. His thrusts sputter.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “Fuck your pussy feels so good. God, I’ve fucking missed this pussy so much.”

It’s all so much messier than usual, so much less rehearsed. You’d both fallen out of practice, and it’d be dishonest for you to say that you aren’t the smallest bit relieved. The way he fucks you feels primal, carnal, like a deep-seated hunger that has long demanded satiation. It’d been a while since you’d both felt this desperate for release.

He sucks at your neck. You toss your head back to grant him further access.

“Leon—fuck— Leon, I’m going to—“

“Do it, baby, come on my cock. Please fucking come on my cock.”

And you’re swathed in rolling waves of euphoria. Realty splinters, your consciousness is swallowed in brilliant pyrotechnics as your orgasm crashes down around you. Leon wraps his arms around you instinctively, allowing you go to limp in his embrace. He fucks you through your climax, relishes the way his name spills from your lips in fragmented syllables. Before you’re able to come to, Leon flips you onto your back.

You coil your legs around his waist, and your fingers find purchase on the slats of your headboard before he drives his cock into you. You let out a sinful moan on impact. Leon reaches between your legs. He pressurizes your clit, rubs tight circles with a calloused finger, and the friction in tandem with the unrelenting bucking of his hips catapults you straight into another shattering orgasm.

Leon’s not too far behind. It takes a few more strokes, long and deep, for him to come undone and when he does, he swears he’s never felt pleasure quite like it. An immeasurable sense of peace washes over him as he feels your cunt tighten around him, as he feels you pull him to your chest and pepper his cheeks with loving kisses. The feel of your hands, of your lips, of your heartbeat pounding against the thin walls of your chest is akin to heaven.

“Leon,” you cry, “Leon, Leon, Leon.”

An incantation. A promise. A psalm recited at his altar. A hymn sung between a smattering of kisses.

His name is symphonic as it leave your mouth, grounding as it tethers him back to this plane, this apartment, this bed. He’s so underserving of your love. He’s so undeserving of your patience and kindness — he’s learned that long ago— but he’d be damned if he ever gave it up for anything.

Leon manages to regain lucidity long enough to remove himself from between your thighs, and lay on the empty side of the bed—his side of the bed. It’s cold, he realizes, colder than he’d ever remembered it being. But before sadness can burrow into his bones once more, you envelope him in a disarmingly warm embrace.

He hugs you to him, kisses your temple, your cheeks, your lips, and audibly laments over all of the nights you’d spent apart.

“It’s okay,” you placate. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“I know,” he whispers between kisses, “I know.”

He kisses away the tears that fall from your tired eyes. You manage to say, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” he croaks, choking back tears of his own.

Silence befalls the bedroom once more, but for the first time in a long time, it does’t unsettle you. You take comfort in the slowness of Leon’s breathing, in the slowed beating his heart. You nuzzle into his neck. He lightly scratches your back, and traces hearts and stars with dull nails.

“So,” he says after a period of comfortable silence, “those didn’t sound like curses to me.”

Your snort in amusement. “They sure as hell weren’t prayers.”

“Weren’t you on your knees for most of them, though?”

You smack his shoulder playfully, and giggle as he pulls you closer to his chest.

“Fine, they’re prayers” you acquiesce. “Though I don’t know what I’d be praying for now you’re home.”

“I didn’t know you prayed at all.”

“I don’t,” you state flatly, “But I… I’d’ve done anything if it meant you coming home safe.”

He clenches his jaw, and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m home now. And I don’t think I’ll be leaving again any time soon.”

You sit up at that, “Really?”

Leon melts at the optimism in your tone. He guides you back onto his lap gently, delicately as though you were made of glass. The kiss he places on your lips is sweet, docile, genial, so unlike the hunger with which he’d ravished you before.

“Really,” he affirms, smiling into another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling exuberantly at the possibility of having Leon to yourself for an indiscriminate amount of time You start to make a mental checklist of the new restaurants that you’d discovered in the past two months, the pop ups and farmers markets that had taken root in his absence. But your planning is disrupted as Leon’s half-hardened cock grinds up into your cunt. You gasp as its head grazes against your swollen clit.

“Have I told you how much I missed you?” He whispers in a voice so husky, so rough that it shoots arousal straight through your core.

God, you’ve missed him, too.

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fouyumixuri

11 months ago

1K notes View Post

fouyumixuri

1 year ago

husband!kakashi headcanons

cw: includes nsfw, violent themes, alluded dv, obsessive!kaka, yandere!kaka, dad!kakashi(🥺), p in v unprotected, creampie, self harm!!, pregnancy, pregnancy sex

its no big surprise that kakashi can be a bit controlling.

especially when he feels as though he owns something, and, since you were his wife, you were his.

at first that’s okay. you didn’t really know any better; never having a date before kakashi hatake came along with all his charm and good looks, you couldn’t help but ogle!! (little did you know, kakashi was absolutely certain nobody would have a chance to take a second look at you))

and i mean, come on, he’s intimidating, but at first, you were swooned by it. so big and scary but oh so gentle with you, his little princess!

he’s so sweet and supportive, a little insecure at times but that was totally normal, all the way up until you said that you would be honored to be his wife.

it wasn’t long until he had cameras installed in every. single. room. you caught him setting one up in the bedroom, facing directly towards the bedframe. he brushed it off — not that you would understand as a non-shinobi, but these cameras were for your safety, silly girl. how can he rest on missions when he has no idea what you’re doing? if you’re okay? don’t you want him to be able to think straight out there??

fails to inform you that not only are they surveillance cameras for himself to see, but they also record every moment,, intimate, private, lonesome moments…

he wanted to start a family, and you should, too! all he wants is to give you a baby, just because he loves you so much! not to mention, the little one would be able to keep you company while he’s away!

(because you will not be leaving the house, nor will anyone be allowed to visit)

sure, he’s overprotective, sometimes a little overbearing, but he’s a good man! his trauma makes him wanna have full control over his family, keeping their safety is his top priority, always.

after a rather tedious, long, and dangerous mission, kakashi was granted a two week break, which ended up being perfect! he’d breed you every single night, whispering dark things to you in your lust-hazed state

“gonna give me a baby, huh? take my cum so good — my little cum dump… want everyone to know who’s cock you’re on.”

when on all fours, back arched and screaming moans as he pounds harshly into your poor cunt, he smacks your ass with a firm hand until your repeating his name like a trained animal.

clips every single moment of those nights — they’re all recorded, of course — and often watches them while he’s away to get himself off.

you inevitably turn up pregnant, finding out after his next mission and being pleasantly surprised by kakashi’s joyful reaction, continuously expressing how happy he is that you are the mother of his children!

be prepared for a plethora of gentle hands and even more gentle words; kakashi treats you the best when you’re pregnant. not that he didn’t give you top tier treatment before, of course.

he even fucks you gently, holding your hand and telling you how beautiful you are, your belly swollen with his lineage and your pussy still so tight and wet, all for him.

promises that he’ll always come home after missions, because of course you get more worried about him now, being the father of your child! sometimes, he requests particularly longer or more dangerous missions just because he thrives under your needy touches after coming home from them. he forgets all about the people he kills, only focusing on his welcome home from you.

you ride him for hours, whining and crying about how happy you are that he’s okay, and that you wouldn’t know what to do without him. that he means everything to you, and he tells you how much of a needy slut you are, and makes you tell him that you’re his needy little cum slut, too attached to his cock to function without him.

but that it’s all okay that you are nothing without him, because he would keep fucking up into you and reminding you how much he loves you, his precious wife and family.

& now that you’re pregnant, despite not getting out much often, everyone in konoha knows, and, unfortunately for kakashi, word travels fast in the shinobi world…

ripped out a man’s spine for asking kakashi if he wonders who’s dick his pretty wife sits on while he’s away, driving the copy nin mad.

he returns from that particular mission with demands. obviously, a surprise inspection on the house, including your panties. he’s able to smell his own scent on those sometimes, so he makes certain that he doesn’t smell any other person.

inspects your cute little pussy before he takes it that night, ensuring it’s usual tightness after not being stuffed for several days.

has gentle conversation with you as he fucks into you for the first time upon his return that night in missionary. asks little questions about your week as though you aren’t a moaning mess beneath him.

that quickly turns into a hard fucking, pounding into you painfully deep and fast as he forces words out of your pretty mouth.

“you fuck someone else while i’m gone, huh?!”

“n—no, kakashi! ngh — just you, just you!”

becomes more obsessed with the surveillance cameras, spectating your every move when he has a moment.

one night in particular, he flicks on the bedroom camera to see you sprawled across the bed, your feminine hands touching your pretty pussy on display for him, crying his name and shoving your face into his pillow.

he fucks his fist at the sight, having his pretty, pregnant wife so pathetic for him. when he returns home, he tells you how much he enjoyed the show and wishes you would do more for him; that it was certainly something to keep his head straight. you blush wildly, you nearly forgot about the cameras!

when you finally have your baby, kakashi is strict when it comes to the delivery. only sakura is allowed in the room with him and obviously you, his wife’s pretty pussy needing it’s dignity intact.

immediately falls in love again when he looks into the eyes of his first born daughter, his babygirl. her hair and eyes were too similar to his own, he was certain this child was his.

becomes extremely insecure and jealous while he’s away after his daughter is born. you coo at him, tell him that he’s the only man, but it’s not enough to hold him over when he’s gone for weeks on end.

his daughter is not allowed to have any contact with another man. not that it was a problem at all to begin with, but he certainly couldn’t sleep wondering if somebody else was playing house with his precious family.

when she gets older, he’s a bit more lenient. he allows her enrollment to school, and becomes hyper obsessed with raising another cold blooded hatake that the world should be terrified of. who better than his own daughter, so that she can protect herself? kakashi knows he won’t be around forever, anyways.

returns home without a scratch most of the time. sometimes he’ll give himself some bruises or a new scar to keep you on your toes, eagerly kissing all over his tendered skin.

he’s unpleasantly surprised to return home, riddled in bruises he gave himself, to find that his precious wife is becoming more close to iruka, his daughter’s teacher.

you tell him that it’s just because he takes care of your daughter while he’s away, at school. kakashi doesn’t like the answer very well, promising to fuck another baby into his wife that very night.

“you want iruka to be their daddy? want him to take care of you?” while he fucks into you, eyes rolling back from pleasure as you assure him that he has it all wrong. just for a little scare tactic, he likes to tell you all he did while he was away,,

“i fucking kill people — fuck, baby — to come back home to you. want me to kill him for you?”

when you tell him no, to please leave iruka alone, he says he will, under the condition that you become pregnant again with his child, making you beg for his seed to spill inside your gummy walls that squeeze him so good.

of course, you end up pregnant again, missing kakashi while he’s away and eagerly tending to him when he’s home. forced to show off your swollen belly everyday as you walk your daughter to school, and everyone knows it’s kakashi hatake’s baby.

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fouyumixuri

1 year ago

✧ 16th October ✧

Sanemi Shinazugawa // Gentle Is Overrated (f! tsuguko reader)

warnings : rough sex

you panted, the dummy in front of you as well the katana in your hand was spent. "that's enough" the voice from behind you stopped you from swinging "what are you doing?" he growled "can't you see you've done damage to your katana?" he warned, pointing at how chapped your weapon is. "do you think a demon's head would be easy to slice through?" his stern voice made you lower your head. "retrieve another katana, i'm not training someone with a weak weapon" he said and you nodded. "yes, shinazugawa-san"

sanemi was the wind hashira who no one dared to go near. he was brash, rough and difficult for his foul mouth and attitude. despite all of that, you have been chasing him down and begging him to take you as his tsuguko. although you weren't as strong as he is, you admired him. watched him with respect as he lifted himself with pride.

your favorite part of him has to be his scars. his scars that you see as pretty was displayed on his chest due to his lack of coverage on his haori.

you have trained with him for a week now and despite how tough his trainings was (and how you shamefully cried over his harsh words) you stayed with him and became stronger everyday. you have returned with another katana and came back to him as you were sweaty and your demon slayer corps uniform clung to your body. "shinazugawa-san! i have retrieved a katana!" you announced "what are you waiting then, dumbass?" he said, sitting on the porch nearby.

you took it a s sign and swung the dummy again. sanemi sighed "oi! can't you do it properly?!" he yelled as you flinched "i-i'm sorry-"

"cut the crap! if you want to be my tsuguko so bad, then act like one! if you don't, then scram!" he said at your face "y-yes. i apologize, shinazugawa-san.." you said, not daring to look at him at the eyes.

"swing like this!" he pulled out his sword, swiftly chopping the dummy in two. "like that! use your energy and strength! be tough for once" he snarled. you nodded and went for another swung but he stopped you "you're a dumb one aren't you? even your footing is wrong!" he got behind you "one feet at the front, one at the back. stable yourself so you won't fall. when beheading a demon, use the strength of your feet too" he advised as you followed.

"one slash, do it" he gestured to the dummy. you didn't chop right through it and sanemi lost his patience "use your energy damn it! how many times do i have to repeat that?!"

"i'm sorry! let me try again-" sanemi hold up his hand "you know what? you've came here, basically begging me to teach you. you're doing this on purpose aren't you?" you flinched. the wind hashira easily see through you as warmth went through your cheeks. "n-no! i wasn't-"

"don't lie to me." his voice was deep as you looked up to him "tell me truthfully, did you came here for the training or for me?"

you flinched again, putting your head low. "i.. have.. a tiny crush on you.." you whispered that it was almost inaudible but sanemi caught it. with that, he chuckled. "there we go, wasn't too difficult to confess wasn't it?" he smiled. "now i know what your intentions are, i can motivate you more to train harder." he said and you frowned.

"motivate?"

he smiled. he patted his crotch. "you want a taste of this?" he raised his brow as your turned away, aroused and excited. "w-what?"

"i'll tell you what, if you can cut that dummy into two. this cock?" he palmed through his pants "you can have a piece of it" he smiled "you have your motivation yet? now, do it again" you were almost dazed as you gripped your katana. you could see his dick bulging from behind his pants as you puffed a breath. you bit your lips, feeling your center already pulsating with need.

you took the stance he taught you and successfully sliced the dummy in one go as he clapped his hands. "that was nice. i believe you want your reward, eh?" he pulled out his cock from his pants and you sighed in content at how big it was. everything was forgotten at that moment, your pride and dignity was thrown out of the window as you kneeled down in front of him. he tapped his cock on your face as you mewled "may i suck it, shinazugawa-san? p-please, i'll make it feel really good.." sanemi wasn't a man of patience as he pushed your head on his awaiting cock and sighed in relief as you bobbed your head, using your tongue to swirl around it.

he grunted, one hand on his hip as he pushed himself down to your throat as you gagged. he pulled out for a moment, a string of precum and saliva coated his dick. "such a good tsuguko. lay down, i'll teach you more" he taunted and you gladly laid on the porch, discarding every fabric that you had on your body. it was wrong to act like a cheap person but for sanemi, you'd gladly spread your legs any day for him.

he chuckled seeing your eagerness as he shrugged his clothings off "tell me, girl. did you wanted this?" he rubbed his hard dick on your pussy up and down, teasing the entrance. "y-yes.. i have.. i.. imagined it.. a lot of times.." you mewled. "and how bad do you want it?"

"so bad.. please.." you looked up and your eyes locked together with him for a second before his dick made his way through your insides. the air in your lungs were knocked out as you felt his big cock entering you and could hear his groans. "s-shit.." he hold on your hip, thrusting inside and not even giving you time to adjust to his size. "shinazugawa-san!!" you whimpered, hands clawing the wooden porch behind you.

he panted, the sounds of rough slaps of skin could be heard as he drilled inside you needy pussy. it sucked him in and it was difficult for sanemi to have control for such a tight, cute cunt of yours. "fuck, you're gonna be the best tsuguko i have.." he said along the hazy moments as you spread your legs more. his pace was feral as his dick scraped your walls as your moans rang into his ear.

"shinazugawa-san..! i'm gonna! gonna!" he shushed you "it's sanemi.. call me.. mmh, sanemi.." he grunted, feeling your pussy tighten when he said so.

"sanemi." it's the way you moaned his name so prettily and almost sounded like a prayer. "say it again, say my name!" he thrusted deep, leaving no space for you to run. "sanemi..! i'm cumming!" he started to go faster as the wooden behind you started to screech at how rough he was going. you were holding on to it so you wouldn't scoot away. sanemi closed his eyes and opened to see how you're writhing in pleasure, a choked moan escaping your mouth as his cock thrusted inside you with lack of mercy.

you creamed over his dick as he also came inside, dumping his cum into your pussy. he made sure to kiss your stiff clit before pulling out, huffing in relief.

"good job. next time, swing your katana harder and i'll show you more than what you just had experienced" he whispered.

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fouyumixuri

1 year ago

There’s Something About Seeing Big, Strong, Scary Copy Nin Kakashi On His Knees, Lapping Desperately

there’s something about seeing big, strong, scary copy nin kakashi on his knees, lapping desperately at your cunt that drives me crazy.

you weren’t expecting him to drop to his knees practically the second you both walked through your front door. one of his hands coming up to pull his mask down, the other pushing your dress up until it was pooling around your stomach, giving him the perfect view of the black thong you had on underneath.

he’s in so much of a hurry that he doesn’t even bother pulling them down your legs, instead, he takes one of your legs and lets it rest on his shoulder, two of his fingers pushing the thin material off to the side.

kakashi whines when your bare cunt is finally exposed, its high pitched and desperate, a sound that he’ll only ever allow you to hear slip past his lips. he pushes his face into your pussy, and takes a deep breathe, inhaling your intoxicating scent before his tongue is poking out from between his lips and he's licking a long stripe from your tight entrance all the way up to your puffy clit.

“mmm kashi—” you gasp when he places a soft kiss to your swollen nub, hands instantly tangling in his silver strands and giving an experimental tug. he’s hard as a rock, his thick cock remains ignored, straining against the fabric of his underwear, kakashi’s too busy trying to push his face deeper into your cunt to worry about himself right now.

"fuck baby, you taste so fucking good." he has to force his face away from your heat, gasping for air before he's diving right back in, tongue lapping at your clit over and over, warm and wet, and just the right amount of pressure that has the one leg your standing buckling under the pleasure that surges through your body.

he licks his way back down to your fluttering entrance, tentatively pushing his tongue into the tight hole.

"fuckkk kakashi— feels s'fucking good" you moan as you begin grinding your cunt harder against his face.

he lets the hand that’s not holding your panties to the side slip down to find his aching cock, palming himself over his pants to try and relieve some of the pressure from being ignored for so long.

kakashi lets his eyes flutter shut as he loses himself to the pleasure. he lets you guide your messy cunt back and forth against his tongue, lets you use him to chase the orgasm he knows is approaching.

long fingers fumble with the button on his pants, quickly undoing it and pushing them down enough to allow his cock to spring free, his long, fat dick slapping against his stomach.

he wraps his hand around the base, stroking himself slowly, trying not to cum to quickly, but the feeling of your clit against his tongue has him close already.

"gonna cum" you warn him. all he can do is moan in response, the ironclad grip you have on his hair preventing him from doing anything else.

it doesn't take long, seconds later your crying out, cumming on kakashi's tongue, coating his pretty face in your essence.

kakashi cums seconds later, fisting his cock hard and fast as he paints the floor beneath you white with his seed.

kakashi doesn't bother to warn you before he's picking you up bridal style and carrying you towards your bedroom, tossing you down gently on the bed.

"i'll clean that up later" he says as he crawls between your legs.

878 notes View Post

fouyumixuri

11 months ago