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Pinterest is my villain origin story, wdym it’s showing me middle aged men with thick thighs

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i realized i’m never gonna get to fuck that old man. 32 injured 15 dead.

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di leon… yeah 💗

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Coming back into the room to find Re2r/RE4R Leon napping on the couch with his hand in the popcorn bowl

I imagine Leon passes out after a long day of training for the police academy! Before he was so traumatized.

Oml he probably fell asleep watching a zombie film too like Dawn of the Dead, or 28 Days Later!

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you’re coming back (and it’s the end of the world) — leon kennedy x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

cws: daddy-daughter incest, p in v, unprotected, leon is a deadbeat freak… virginity loss, angst, fingering, alcoholism

note: SUPER late bday drabble for the lovely @vefjadrep I ♡ YOU!! omg work schedule fucked up my posting but. wtv!! proofread but still a lil choppy… tagging @kcolrom :3

Birthdays have never felt quite right to you.

It’s not that your dad’s a total deadbeat. Honest. From cradle to college, he paid up your child support just fine. If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have heard the end of it from mama — she’d kept you up more nights than you could remember ranting about him over the phone. You’d kept yourself up, sometimes — ear pressed to the door in some desperate attempt to learn more about him. And you learned plenty. Dad’s name was Leon, dad’s job was something you couldn’t spell yet, and dad’s favorite things to do were drink and hide. Like a dog. One of the stray types around your neighborhood that went around knocking up everything that ought to stay chaste. Dad never missed a child support payment but somehow managed to miss every single one of your birthdays. There was always an excuse. When you were little, it was something vague about his job scribbled in the corner of the occasional postcard he’d send. When the postcards stopped coming, it was something about liquor mumbled over the table during your birthday dinner. There’s still an empty chair in the back of your mind where dad should be, waiting for you to blow out the candles.

You didn’t like to dwell on the fact that other girls your age were watching their fathers grow old and cliché, so you tried to forget about your birthdays as soon as they passed. It got easier as you got older. With each passing year, your birthday became a little more unremarkable, so dad not showing up got a little easier to get over each time. This year, it’d taken three days to convince yourself that you were over it. Record time. Shit should’ve gotten you into the Olympics.

Until he decided to show up.

“Uh… happy birthday,” he said, clearing his throat and trailing your name a moment later like he was worried about pronouncing it wrong.

It’d been a month since your birthday, and dad had hungover written right between the eyes, but he was here. Right on your welcome mat, he was here. Realer than Jesus to a southerner. Close enough to count the lashes on his lids. You’d been tempted to, just because you could, but you didn’t — there were a million things that photograph on the mantle didn’t get quite right, and a million more it couldn’t begin to fathom. You’d forgotten to respond for a moment, transfixed on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, before he cleared his throat again.

“My birthday was a month ago,” you admitted with that slow tone parents use to tell their kids the truth about Santa Claus. Didn’t work. The effect was immediate. He blinked, scratched the back of his neck, and looked around your doorstep for a moment like someone was coming to save him.

“Shit, really? Swear, I had it pulled up,” he muttered, fishing his phone from his pocket and clumsily swiping through his camera roll. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, heel tapping benignly against the step. His brow furrowed when he scrolled to a blurry image of your birth certificate — bringing the screen to his face and zooming in on your date of birth. You would’ve laughed at the way he scowled, if he hadn’t been your dad who just forgot your birthday.

“My bad, sweetheart… my memory must be going,” he said, grimacing as the clouds overhead parted — spilling sunshine at your feet. Leon looked out of place within it. Like a child’s scribble in the background of a landscape painting.

You nodded when he didn’t continue the sentence, clasping and unclasping your hands. “Well… it’s the thought that counts, right?” Stupid fucking sentence. You didn’t want to think about what mama would’ve done if she’d heard you make that excuse for him. You knew better, he knew better, and you’d both be better off closing the door and keeping it locked.

He agreed before you’d managed to picture her frown entirely, face lighting up like you’d offered to put him down. Maybe it was relieving to him, seeing a fraction of your mother extend the olive branch. Maybe reading into it too deeply was your way of coping. You nodded toward the open doorway before you could think twice about it, and when he stepped into your apartment, you swore you could hear mama sigh somewhere in the wind.

Dad sat rigid on your couch as the sun dipped beneath your windowsill. He’d been lax enough, at first — but after he’d asked you about school and your apartment and your grades and how mama was holding up, the air got a little too thick for talking. You’d switched on the television when the conversation slowed; he’d pretended to be invested. You could’ve called bullshit standing a mile away — nobody’s eyes glaze over like that when the subtitles are on. Nobody frowns like that to a fucking romcom. Dad probably thought you were stupid, if he cared enough to think of you at all. Fuck, awkward as he was, you wanted him to stay. You wanted him to sit pretty and tense on your couch forever. His eyes haphazardly darted to yours, flitting back to the television when you made eye contact. The way his face drained made you wonder if he’d learned to read minds while working for the government. You don’t believe in that sort of thing, but you still crossed your fingers when the thought crossed your mind.

But you knew he liked liquor. More than anything, you knew he liked liquor. Maybe he was fresh out — maybe you were his last resort. That should’ve sickened you. It didn’t. You reveled in the thought of dad needing you like you’d needed him, so you stood up after ten minutes of silence, digging out an unopened six-pack from the depths of your fridge and presenting him with the case.

“I’m alright. You don’t have to get anything for me. Thanks, sweetheart,” dad said, blinking for the first time in minutes. You sighed, arm still extended as you stepped back over.

“It’s not just for you,” you said. “I’m drinking, too.”

His brow furrowed for a moment — like he was trying to recall if you could legally follow through on that — but it raised again, soon enough, and he took the beer with a muttered thank-you.

Your hands stung as you pried the cap off, face crinkling as you took a sip. Shit was acidic. You wondered if it took effort to get addicted to this sort of thing. It’d take you more time than you’d care to spend just to tolerate the taste.

“Why’d you come to see me?”

He froze, dipping back the bottle to avoid your question for a second more. “Thought it was your birthday.”

“Yeah, but you’ve not… y’know,” you trailed off, hesitant to present him with his own mistakes. “You’ve not come to any of my other ones.”

“Fair enough.”

You waited for dad to say anything else. He didn’t. The insurance commercial humming in the background somehow became more captivating than anything you had to say. You huffed like your heart wasn’t sinking and shifted to face the wall. He didn’t react. You turned back.

“I just don’t get it,” you said, biting your tongue before what you really wanted to ask had a chance to fall out of your mouth. Wouldn’t have mattered either way. Dad had that look in his eyes again. Like he’d called up someone to come and save him, and they weren’t quite here yet.

“When you have a job like mine,” he started, tracing his index around the rim of the bottle, “You don’t get time off to come and eat cake. Just wanted to meet you at… some point.”

You nodded, feigning interest in the drink you’d taken two sips from. You didn’t ask him why he didn’t come and visit during all those times he’d wound up at the bar, but he seemed to hear it anyway — standing up and settling the bottle on the carpet. You straightened up, too, mouth opening before you knew quite what to say: “Where are you going?”

Dad pretended to smooth out the front of his shirt, clearing his throat. “Got an early assignment tomorrow.” Bullshit. You’d heard enough about his coworkers prying him from the bottle during office hours to know that he couldn’t have cared less about punctuality or assignments or whatever the hell else they did over there. You weren’t as stupid as he must’ve thought you were. A stupid girl would’ve confronted him right there and hoped the guilt was enough to glue him back to the couch — you knew better than that.

“Can I have a hug?”

You doubted that any amount of rehearsal could’ve made that sound natural. But something in your face must’ve looked natural enough, because his shoulders slumped a little by the time the words left your mouth. He paused for a moment, swallowing thickly and kneeling slightly before you. His arms opened in the same breath as yours. Felt like something you’d dream.

It really was supposed to be a kiss on the cheek. Honest. Hand over his daddy’s Bible. You had the same puppy eyes as your mama, same eyes that convinced him to forget the condom two decades ago. Least he could do was pretend to be the daddy you’d deserved for half a second. But you’d straightened up a little too far when he’d stood to leave, bumped the corner of your mouth right up against his lips when he went to peck your cheek. Turned into the sort of kiss he’d leave a one-night stand with before he left their line dead forever. Real romantic shit. His dick was a real romantic too, apparently, because he didn’t pull away, turning his head till your lips pressed up against his. His thoughts had gone cloddish with whatever incestuous curse you’d fermented in that beer can, because in that instant, you were the stranger you’d been two hours ago — he didn’t know you, you didn’t know him, and every curtain in the world was drawn.

Dad kissed you like he’d been starved of it — shit, he probably was. That blonde in your baby album was well-fucked. You could tell — dad used to be all bright eyes and baby fat. Time threw him through the gutter. You’d like to think that you wouldn’t have given him a second glance if you’d caught sight of him wasting alive in some dive. Mama always told you to stay away from the sort that can’t help themselves — everyone’s mama ought to, you thought. But she couldn’t, and you couldn’t either. You kissed dad back like oxygen was an afterthought. Like making love would make him love you. His fingers twitched when you tried to lace them with yours, hand flinching to retract as he broke it.

“Please stay,” you mumbled against his lips, breaths tangling with his in some subconscious effort to tie him down. The words are ripped from your throat before they feel natural to you, before your voice sounds like your own. “Stay here, this time.”

“Baby…” dad sighed, voice clipped. Restrained in a way you never wanted to hear from him again. “You know we can’t do this. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Nobody has to know, dad,” you started, reaching for his hand again. You’d said the line a little more seductively in your head, but somehow your voice fucked up in your throat and came out breathy and frantic instead. Dad probably thought you were something out of a Freudian case study. But if there was one thing you knew about men, it was that the quickest way to one’s head was his cock. Head, not heart — but you weren’t picky. You couldn’t afford to be picky when dad had one foot out the door. “The front door’s locked.”

You made sense of exactly what sort of man dad was when he turned his head to check — men who don’t want to fuck their daughters don’t have any reason to keep the door locked. Maybe it’d been on his mind since he’d stepped in. Maybe that’d been the real reason he’d stopped by. The thought wasn’t as revolting to you as it should’ve been. The least he could do for you now was think you were pretty.

Dad’s lips were on yours again before you had time to think of an answer. You made a note to ask him for another kiss after this — one of those soft ones on the forehead you’d grown up watching your friends get. No tongue. No erection against your thigh. No hands fumbling to bunch up your skirt and no fingers hooking under your panties and tugging them to the side.

You crossed your fingers out of his line of sight when he spread your thighs, praying that he couldn’t tell you were a virgin. God frowned upon you. You took his index just fine, but the second his middle finger shifted to scissor your hole open, your eyes scrunched closed and your breath trailed off into a hiss. Shit stung. Dad’s fingers weren’t thick, exactly, but they were thicker than yours. Thick enough to hurt. Thick enough to make you act on reflex.

“You alright, baby?”

Fuck, you hated that tone. Hated how often you heard it in your dreams. He was supposed to talk like that when you fell off your bike and scraped your knee. He was supposed to say that after you’d broken up with your first boyfriend in seventh grade. Stupid fucking thought. Maybe dad cock turned everyone into a sap. You straightened up against the cushions a little, nodding. “Yeah. M’fine.”

You tried not to react when his thumb trailed from your labia to your clit, circling languidly enough to piss you off. He must’ve read you then, too, because he laughed under his breath when your brow furrowed, rolling the tip of his thumb over the pearl.

“Been a while, sweetheart… go easy on me.”

And suddenly, you’re wetter than you’ve ever been in your goddamn life. Wet enough to see it on dad’s knuckles when he withdrew his hand, popping open the button of his jeans. God, at least he was hard. You would’ve killed yourself right there otherwise. All that just for his dick to go limp — but it wasn’t. It nudged his palm when he tugged down the fabric, pre beading at the tip. First dick you’d ever seen up close, attached to the first man you were never supposed to fuck.

You heard his breath hitch when you pulled the fabric of your top over your tits, cock visibly twitching in his hand. Spoke for itself. Dad was still dressed above you, fumbling through his jacket pocket for his wallet. Your eyes darted to the blanket folded over the couch cushion.

“Shit,” he muttered, thumbing through the contents of his wallet. “You got a condom?”

You shook your head fast enough to scramble your thoughts. “We don’t need one. It’ll be fine.” Sorry, mama.

“I don’t know about that, baby…” dad started, memories of your own conception rolling around to the forefront of his mind — until you huffed, unclipping your bra and sliding the straps down your shoulders. Fuck, you had nice tits. He’d gotten a lot better at pulling out, hadn’t he? Sure he had. You didn’t have any siblings scattered around that motel he’d spent half his thirties in. That he knew of. But you weren’t like those girls he’d slept with — you were his girl, and his girl was smart enough to manage her own apartment and pick up Plan B at the drugstore. Yeah, you’d be alright.

The stretch wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Dad paused when he’d sheathed the tip in your cunt, shifting his hold on your hips. You were still in one piece. Fucked in the name of God, fucked in the eyes of the law, fucked in the record of any therapist worth their license — but his dick hadn’t managed to split you in half yet. Good enough. Your insides went syrupy when he groaned, sheathing his cock to the base before he could stop himself.

“Fuck… sorry, sweetheart,” he muttered, breathy and low enough to make your heart swell. You didn’t say anything — wide-eyed and breathless and full enough to make your head go fuzzy. Dad’s cock felt bigger than it looked, felt better than his hand, stuffed you nicer than your own fingers ever could. Christ, he’d forgotten what virgin cunt felt like — the way it clenched around his dick hard enough to cut circulation and throbbed for attention the second he pulled back.

“More,” you mumbled, head tilting forward as his fingernails left little divots down your waist, clit twitching each time it bumped up against dad’s abdomen. He’d softened up in the years since he’d sent you a picture with his postcards, padded around his stomach in that domestic way that makes dads look like dads. Fuck, you could be domestic with him. You’d fuck him all the time if he came home every day. “Please— fuck, more—“

He smiled when your thighs twitched, hips stuttering as he guided them, breaths rattling along your ribcage. “Feels good, huh?” dad chuckled, circling your clit with his thumb. “Didn’t think you’d like getting fucked this much.”

You nodded, eyes squeezing shut when he bottomed out again, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Only by you, dad, really— only by you,” you babbled like a broken alarm, slick shiny around the base of his dick. “Come back and fuck me again, won’t fuck anyone else, promise—“

Dad went rigid at that, balls tightening as he inhaled, coil snapping in the pit of his belly. Shit, that’s what made him cum now? Monogamy with his flesh and blood? Exclusive access to his daughter’s cunt? He pulled out fast enough to hurt your feelings, cumming down your lower tummy, eyes glassy and pupils blown as he gripped the fat of your hip. You smiled when he eased up, eyes darting around the living room for a tissue. Felt good to do something right. Felt better than sex to be taken care of.

“I love you…” you mumbled, eyelids drooping and cheek smushed against his shoulder. And you mean it. You think you do, at least. You’ve wanted to love dad since you found out you had one.

Dad patted your shoulder, suddenly tense in a way he prayed you couldn’t pick up on. (You did. Anyone could’ve.) “Love you, too.” It’s hollow and restrained in a way that nobody who really loves somebody is capable of producing.

If you could be who he wanted, you would. You’d change yourself in half a second. Turn your skin to glass and your blood to whiskey just to feel him kiss you for a second. But you stay yourself, and that’s enough to make him keep the door quiet on the way out.

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sometimes i read the things i post and i’m like … u need to get laid or get back on meds because your horny posting is making it everyone else’s problem 😭😭😭

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lmao How do you think Leon's eras would react to a reader who is ovulating and she simply wants to be with him all the time? 😔😔

Oh he loves a challenge of his stamina...

Warnings: Smut,MDNI, Creampies, Soft Dom!Leon, Breeding Kink, Cockwarming, Overstimulation, Ovulation, Drinking, Teasing, Cow-Girl, Slight Subby Leon (implied once...Re2 ofc)

AFAB!Fem!Reader

RE2:

At first he's already tired with the whiplash of your emotions he's gone through throughout the week.

You've been pushing him away, wanting his touch to then back to pushing him away

So when he's sat on the couch and you come in dressed in his shirt and underwear, his attention is immediately taken

After all you've only been wearing bag clothes and sweats so the sudden change...is interesting

You sit on his lap and he's already twitching, he's getting real excited and you haven't even done anything

It goes the same way it always does, a heated make out sessions that then gets dragged to the bedroom where he'll spend at least an hour edging himself into your pussy because he doesn't want it to end

When it finally does and you are full with his cum, he collapses on the bed only to have you swing your leg over and drench him in the mixture of the two of you..

Leon's nervous, a more Subby headspace coming closer as you rock your hips against his sensitive cock begging yourself for another round

Who is he to refuse

RE4R:

You are normally all over him when get gets back from things but today...it was different

Its only when he catches you looking at your app that he realizes what week it is

And he delivers...

He basically becomes a doll for you that you can command to do what you need

You need to be fucked from behind? He's already thinking of the pace hes gunna use

You wanna ride him? He's in position

Its like it rubs off onto him because his cock is constantly leaking throughout the day even if you aren't doing anything

His sweats will have wet patches in the front when he thinks about how needy you are

Infinite Darkness:

Considers it a rewards for how moody you are the week before

But fucking loves trying to sedate the need

Spends the entire week trying not to cave into your advances

Watching you struggle and become a little needier everyday

Sometimes he genuinely can't help it since he's not around but he's a smug bastard and loves when your brattier side comes out

When it does he's punishing you but giving you exactly what you asked for and then some

Your pussy is spent by the end of it, a constant stream of cum leaking out of your puffy lips

He loves he extra affection after, loves it even more if you give him the extra affection when he's still plugged inside you

Damnation:

Smug bastard like ID Leon and sees how long you can go before you are practically begging to sedate your needs

Instead he finds you wrapped up in his shirt trying to use the toy you have when hes away

That just won't do

He's immediately on you helping you, plugging you with his cock and his cum

Afterwards if you are still clingy he's holding you in his lap as he drinks or watches the TV

Helping you get as close to his body as you can hopefully giving you the comfort you seek

Loves it if you are little bit shy about it, like you aren't normally this horny when it happens he smug and just treats it

Also teases you because of your embarrassment

RE6:

Vendetta:

Knows somethings up when you start wearing his favorite shirts

He'll come back from work to just you prancing around his shirts cooking his favorite meal

Its when he hugs you from behind and your nipples already start to pebble through the material as his aftershave hits you, that he realizes

Waits for you to finish dinner, waits for you to admit you want it

He can feel himself getting harder as you snuggle in closer on his lap, squirming your ass against his cock to try and rile him up

When you feel it's hard and twitching you become feral for it

He lets you, opening his legs and lifting his hips so you can take it off

Welcomes the warmth and clenches of you pussy as you sink down on him

And absolutely adores the sight of you riding him in his shirt

Your breast poking through as your back arches

Nipples staying perfectly perked up as the fabric moves over them

Willingly gives you creampies, helping you empty his balls of everything's hes got for you

Death Island:

He can see that you are hesitant to invade his space with your needs

Spying you sitting across from him on the couch, wrapped up in a black with your hand drawing lazy circles on your clit

He's drinking again, lost in thought with everything in his mind but your horiness this week is a welcomed distraction

He makes you work for it though, making you use your fingers to give yourself an orgasm before you can have his cock

Reassures you the entire time that you aren't bothering him and it's a welcomed distraction

As he gets lost in through each thrust he makes gets harder and harder

Completely gets lost in you and you get lost in him

His brain filled with the image of his fluids leaking out around him as he pulls out

Takes a break and a few more sips until you are begging for another round

To which he just smirks and drags you to the bedroom

He knew the day was coming

After all you had your most fertile day circled on the calender every month

It was his favorite day of course...a night filled with endless creampies in hopes he can finally get you pregnant

Because of that you are both like bunnies that day, he doesn't even notice you are clingier than normal

Doesn't care that there's scratches down his back where you are blissfully getting cock drunk

He loves that the breaks in-between each round gets shorter

the fact that his age is even keeping up with this amazes him

It makes him feel wanted and important with how clingy you get

Where you just need him in your space and it doesn't matter if its for sex

He always make sure to wear the all black outfits and your favorite aftershave of his just so it really gets you going

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Omg em this was the first notification I saw on my phone today, made my day💕 hope you too have a lovely day

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Please observe one of my favourite comment chains on YouTube dot com

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giggling and kicking my feet over this interview

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my friends r so talented. rb if ur friends are talented

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if you take dead dove fanfiction existing as a personal attack you need to get off the internet

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Sooooo I know I promise soft Leon on Saturday…. And now it’s Thursday… BUT IVE BEEN WORKING ON IT!!

But please enjoy my boy Leon with multiple different pets! Also, just a spoof drawing of him with a bunch of alley cats that love him.

PS: The cat is named Wonton

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Stooop mads you’re the sweetest. This is us fr

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me maladaptive daydreaming about the most recent ff i've read (i need psychological attention not an iphone)

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