#KNEE PADS LEON

[irregularm4ngo]

re:di jill slight redesign cuz they basically copy and pasted her re3r look

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

ANYTIME YOU WANT (JUMP BACK TO ME ANYTIME)

husband!leon kennedy x reader

tags: established relationship. you guys are beefing ngl. masturbation (brief reference, m receiving). leon loves his wife a lot. title from eve 6 anytime.

Your therapist takes in the way you both sit on her couch over the rims of her glasses. Your legs and arms are crossed and you don’t dare look in his direction, lest he thinks he’s not in the doghouse. The first fifteen minutes of this session have been an awkward, stilted silence.

Leon’s legs are spread, his arms folded as he sneaks glances at you from the corners of his eyes. His mouth is downturned at the corners, contrasting the thin line yours is pressed into.

Not to stereotype or anything, but she can definitely see which one dragged the other to marriage therapy. She’s just surprised it’s the man wanting to fix something.

Okay. Since neither of you want to speak, she’ll go first. “Would either of you like to tell me why we’re here this week?” She asks, writing the date in the top left corner of the legal pad’s page.

11 - 18 - 17

She watches you scoff and shift where you sit, balancing your temple on two fingers. “You’re a marriage counselor, aren’t you?” You don’t even look at her as you speak, words ground out from your teeth. “Why else does a couple come to you?”

Alright, not a good start. She watches Leon reach over before he stops himself, a hand returning to his lap. Instead, he says your name softly, begging you to look over at him with those big blue eyes.

You don’t look over.

He changes tactics, head lifting. “Be nice.” He says softly, body shifting to face you as he looks over, drinking you in.

You don’t respond, staring angrily into a space over the therapist’s shoulder.

Leon sucks in a breath through his teeth as he leans back, his hand midway between you two on the ugly upholstery.

Your therapist clears her throat, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Why are you two here?”

Leon takes the lead, his eyes sliding over to you. “We’re having… problems.”

You scoff immediately. “Understatement.” You mutter under your breath, arms folding tightly again.

Leon’s mouth presses into a line as he restrains himself from giving into your baiting before he says, “I’ll lay my cards out on the table.”

You bristle, eyes flicking over at him. Your face is stonily neutral, the slight knot of your brows betraying your frustration.

Wife and husband in habit of needling one another.

“I drank. A lot.” Leon leans back, crossing an ankle over his opposite knee. “And she did a lot to try and keep our marriage afloat before I got my head out of my ass.”

Your therapist notes this on her legal pad. “How long ago was this?”

“Three-ish years.” Leon offers, lacing his fingers together. His wedding band glints in the light—yours is conspicuously absent. His eyes land on you, the second time he’s spoken directly to you. “And I’m forever grateful.”

“Mhm.” Therapist writes that husband is apologetic and open, attempting to bridge the gap. Wife is unreceptive. “And how long have you both been married?”

Shit. That’s a better question for you, you have the dates straight, somehow. Your first time, the date you two got married, the day you two met, your first daughter’s birthday, your first son’s birthday, your second daughter and son’s birthday.

He used to tease you about your calendar brain early on. You’d look a little sheepish and he’d kiss it right off you.

Leon sneaks a glance at you like a drowning man looks at a float. “Um…” He can feel his face warming up, a pretty flush spreading across his cheeks.

You shift, sighing through your nose and picking at the seam of your jeans. “Sixteen years.”

Right. Wife seems to defrost when asked how long they’ve been together—sixteen years.

“And how did you meet?” Just so she has the dates straight.

“College.” Your face heats the longer Leon stares holes into your cheek. Wife seems nostalgic of the early days of relationship. “I worked at the campus dining hall.”

A small, helpless smile spreads across Leon’s face. “I came over to the sandwich and pasta stations as much as I could.”

Husband holds affection for wife still.

You don’t look up at him and your therapist can watch the heartache bloom in his eyes before he looks away.

“What’s your perspective, Mrs. Kennedy?” The therapist asks you, crossing her legs.

You stay silent for so long that the therapist wonders whether you heard her before you say emotionlessly, “He did drink.” Your eyes fall to your fingers. “And mope, and feel bad for himself.”

“I went through a lot of things.” Leon says quietly. Your therapist opens her mouth to hush him, but you beat him to the punch.

“Nobody’s saying you didn’t.” You look up at him for the first time. “If you’d let me finish, you’d understand what I’m saying.”

Your therapist holds up her hands before this can devolve into a full-on argument. “Excuse me.” Two pairs of eyes settle on her. “Let’s not interrupt one another, please. And let’s keep the hostility to the minimum.”

“I’m not being hostile.” You retort, brows furrowing in the middle.

“You’re not exactly being gentle, either.” Leon mutters, raising a brow when you look at him with a frown on your face.

Husband and wife have habit of speaking over one another. “Please.” Your therapist says a little louder. “Mrs. Kennedy, continue.” Wife is on defense.

You take a steadying breath and let it out slowly. Wife employs self-soothing mechanisms. “I was going to say that the previous drinking isn’t the issue to me.” You uncross and recross your legs, bouncing the one on top. “The drinking, frankly, wasn’t a surprise.”

“Can you elaborate?”

Your lips part, eyes flicking over to Leon as you attempt to figure out the best way to talk without breaking his confidentiality.

Leon doesn’t look at you, head balanced on two fingers.

“I…” You take another deep breath. “It’s his job. It’s… it’s a tedious and stressful job. And he’d—“ you cut yourself off, glancing at him again.

“You can say it, it’s fine.” Leon says, sounding particularly weary.

You look particularly conflicted when he says that, mouth turning down at the corners. “He’d got the job from a big incident in ninety-eight. He wasn’t supposed to have this job.”

Wife employing vagaries to protect husband.

“Mhm.” Your therapist looks vaguely uneasy at the omission, but lets you go on.

“He hadn’t started drinking heavily until he was working for the President.” You chew on your cheek, eyes on your husband. “Then after that, he tried to go away to Colorado for a week, leaving me pregnant with three kids.”

Leon’s mouth pulls into a line. “So that’s what this is about.”

Husband and wife hold vague resentment for husband’s job.

Your therapist refrains from rolling her eyes, clearing her throat and waiting for you to go on.

“And then,” you say pointedly, eyebrows raising, “you didn’t have a vacation at all because your job called you in. That’s what I was getting at.”

“More like it found me, but close enough.” Leon replies flippantly, crossing his legs.

You squeeze your eyes shut, measuring your breaths. Your therapist is almost tempted to write that husband has a bad attitude, but holds back.

You look away, one hand moving to twiddle your wedding band out of habit before you register that your finger is empty. You pull your hand away. “He sobered up after the Colorado thing.” You say quietly.

Husband’s work takes him away from the wife and kids fairly often.

Your therapist nods, looking between you two. Wife was angry at beginning of session, now looks downcast, switching role with husband who was earlier downcast, now is irritated. “And how many children do you share with one another?”

“Four.” Leon fills in, hand twitching for his phone as if to show pictures. “Two boys, two girls.”

Four children, two boys and two girls.

“And how has this break—“ When she asks, Leon flinches and you look guilty. “in your relationship impacted your children?”

You glance at one another in tandem. Wife and husband still look for support in one another when asked questions pertaining to them as a family unit. Leon looks away first, cheeks turning red.

You sigh, reaching up and rubbing the back of your neck. “Our eldest girl started acting out in school. She’s defiant, she’s antisocial. She…”

Leon waits as you trail off, then picks up. “She’s an extrovert, like her mom. Which is why it raised alarm bells when her teachers told us that she’d been angry about having to do group work because she wanted to be left alone. She had to be taken home one day because she got in a physical fight with some kids who just wanted to play with her.”

“And your other children?” Her eyes flick between the two of you.

“Our youngest two aren’t in school yet.” You inform her, shifting a little and fiddling with your nails. “Our eldest boy—he’s six—had begun isolating himself from everyone. He wouldn’t even sit at his desk, he just wanted to sit in the library area and do his work—which is completely fine and I don’t see why the teacher threw a fit about it, frankly—but he’d also refused to play with other children. He would just watch other kids at recess—and he’s a very energetic kid.”

Your therapist nods slowly. “I see.”

Leon’s mouth pulls into a small smile at all the information you throw at the therapist. That’s his girl, always motormouthing and talking about anything and everything. Though, you could start an argument with your echo, so maybe there’s a drawback to your ability to talk about anything.

Parental relationship affecting children in household.

“Our youngest two don’t really understand why mommy and daddy are fighting.” Leon muses, watching you play with your fingers. He has half a mind to reach over and hold your hand so you stop fidgeting, but refrains.

“How old are your children?”

“Eight, six, four, and two.” You sneakily reference a tattoo on your forearm of the kid’s birthdates with their initials—he knew you were cheating when it came to remembering their birthdates.

Your therapist glances at her watch, jotting down a few more notes before she closes the legal pad, marking it as Mr. & Mrs. Kennedy. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have this week. If you both are willing to come back, my receptionist out front will schedule you for another session next week.”

Leon watches his cum swirl down the drain miserably, leaning his forehead against the shower tile. What a waste.

That session last week could’ve gone worse, admittedly. It could’ve had you two throwing shit at one another and both of you getting arrested.

The silence during the drive home was excruciating. In the early days, you could fill up the whole fucking car just talking about anything: your coursework, which kid in your class you think is autistic, this new show you watched, anything.

Leon’s a quiet guy, he doesn’t have the capacity to talk about nothing and everything for an hour and you’re his favorite little chatterbox in the world.

He turns off the faucet and shakes his hair out like a dog, raking the curtain aside and grabbing his towel, mopping his face and hair before he dries off his body.

He wraps the towel around himself and steps out of the shower, slicking his hair back and wiping a streak in the foggy mirror so he can somewhat see where he needs to shave.

For good measure, he opens the window and leans forward to the mirror, inspecting his face.

You knock on the door thrice. “Can I come in?”

He turns around, one hand on the knot holding his towel up and the other unlocking the door and pulling it open. You step inside without so much as a glance at him, pausing when you see the streak on the mirror. “I hate when you do that.” you mutter, pulling open the cabinet and rooting around for some disinfectant.

“You hate when I do anything.” Leon mutters back, retrieving the trimmer from the cabinet and being careful not to whack you in the head with it. He jams the plug in the wall, undoing his towel both to dab his cheeks and jaw dry with a corner of it, but also to see if he can get a reaction from you.

You give none, coming back with some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads from the cabinet. Somebody must’ve scraped their knee. You bonk the back of your head on the way out. “Motherfucker!”

Leon puts down the trimmer with a stifled laugh, leaning down and stroking the back of your head gently. “Jesus. You okay?”

You swat at his covered thigh, sitting down on the tile. “It’s not funny.”

“Did you hear me laugh?” Maybe you did. His bad, he should’ve been quieter. He strokes the back of your head one last time before pulling his hand away.

“No, but I know you want to.” You grouse, getting up from the floor and picking up the rubbing alcohol and the cotton pads. Safe, just like a guy stealing a base at the last second.

You walk away without anything further and Leon feels stupidly self-conscious as he watches your ass. Is it the hair? No, you said you liked the body hair. Is it the body? Is he out of shape? Well, he’s not far outside the realm of dad bod. Besides, you told him a couple years ago that you liked seeing the give to his tummy, means he’s eating well.

He shakes his head, leaning into the mirror and picking up the trimmer as he buzzes his stubble down a little more. Your four year old runs into the bathroom with a smile and he pauses, face half-shaven to give some love to one of his three girls, plopping her on the counter as she talks his ear off and he continues shaving.

After a while, he helps her down so she can go run around with her siblings and so he can get changed, hanging his towel up when she’s gone and changing into a pair of boxers. He comes into his bedroom and heads over to his dresser, pulling out a shirt and some sweatpants.

He comes downstairs fully dressed to utter chaos.

Your kids are too busy running around the living room and body slamming one another to listen to you. You stand there frustratedly as you try to configure a game plan, one temple aching. You don’t like raising your voice at them, your voice goes too high and at a certain point, kids tune it out.

“Hey!” Leon, on the other hand, has no qualms about raising his voice. He doesn’t have to do much, he has a lot of diaphragm support.

The kids pause, immediately looking guilty.

Wordlessly, he points out to the back door and they scramble away, shouting and ordering each other around and back to playing with one another.

Leon goes over and shuts the door with a sigh. “They get that energy from you, you know.” He muses, heading over to the kitchen to get himself a snack.

“I know.” You sit down on your humongous couch, rubbing a temple. In the corner is your pillow, your blanket hung over the back of the couch. Leon’s heart dully aches when he sees that setup, he’s not sure it ever won’t. God, he misses cuddling you and his babies.

Your therapist holds up a hand in the last ten minutes of your session after having found a good place to cut you off. “So.” She says after letting out a quiet sigh, looking over her notes.

11 - 25 - 17

Making some headway in conversations about the other’s intentions. Husband and wife very similar: hardheaded, hate to lose, want their voices to be heard. Neither want their children to be in a broken home.

Wife sleeps on couch, lacks wedding ring for second session in a row. Husband longing for connection with her but wants her to give the signal that she’s ready.

She looks up. “I’m going to give you both some homework.” She watches your eyebrow raise and Leon smirk. “First, no matter what either of you is doing, when you first see each other for the day, I want you to hug for at least twenty seconds.”

You frown, Leon’s expression lightening. Amateur advice, or so you think.

“Second, I want you both to start keeping journals of your fights.”

Nevermind.

“Journals of our fights?” You repeat, crossing your legs at the ankle.

“I’m not finished.” The therapist reprimands gently, watching you frown. Wife has issues with authority. “These journals should take place over a week’s time. I want you to write down what the fight was about, what was said, how you both reacted. At the end of every week—Sunday, we’ll say—you’ll exchange the journals and read from the other’s point of view.”

Damn, that’s actually really good.

“Third,” The therapist pins you in place with a look. “I want you to wear your wedding band again.“

She watches the embarrassment cross your face, eyes cutting over to Leon when he looks too smug. “Don’t look so smug, Mr. Kennedy. I want you to recite five things you like about her—“

“That’s easy.” Leon says, meaning every word.

She gives him a look. “When you’re in an argument. Mentally, not out loud. Speaking of, you both need a code word for when the argument is getting to be too much and you need to walk away from it.”

She stands up, putting the legal pad in the folder in the Kennedy file. “I’ll see you both next week.”

After the third session, you move right back into the bedroom, after waking up to Leon laying on top of you on the couch.

Leon’s brushing his teeth as you change into pajamas, leaning over and spitting into the sink before he brushes his tongue. He rinses the bristles and puts the brush back in the holder, coming out and helping you ready the bed before your six year old son comes in, saying his tummy’s upset.

“I’ve got it.” Leon comes over and presses a hand to his son’s forehead. Warm. Five out of the six of the Kennedys tend to run warm, which isn’t a worry. “Let’s get you some Pepto, buddy.”

He takes his son’s hand and leads him downstairs, giving him a dose and taking him back up, laying him back in his bed. “Goodnight. Mommy and daddy love you.” He whispers, going over and kissing his three other children goodnight.

He comes back to your room to find you in bed reading, lights dimmed. Instinctively, he comes over to your side and adjusts the lamp so you’re not straining your eyes to read. He comes back around to his side and turns off his light, lying on his right side and facing you.

When you decide it’s time to sleep, you lean over and turn off the light, putting your book on your nightstand and slipping beneath the covers.

It’s silent for a while before Leon whispers, “Sometimes, I wonder if we should have another baby.”

Your head snaps over to his. “What?”

“Not—“ He scoots a little closer, almost reaching out to take your hand. “not, like, a bandage baby or anything. I don’t think a baby can fix this.” A pause before he gestures in the dark. “Us, I mean.”

You snort despite yourself. “I hope not.”

Leon scoffs, coming a little closer. “You know me. That’s not fair to a little baby. And you said four’s your limit.”

Your heart warms. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised he remembered.

“I love you, you know.” Leon murmurs, hesitantly and loosely taking your hand. Even in the dark, you can see him coming.

Your chest aches. “I know.”

Another long pause.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” When your head turns, he’s there, inches from your face.

“That it took me so long to pull my head from my ass. You are… my anchor in this crazy-ass world.” He squeezes your hand, hoping you’ll let him hold it for a while longer. “And I hurt you. You’re the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, and I love you, and I hurt you.”

Your burning eyes scrunch shut as you press your forehead to his.

“I just hope you forgive me—I hope one day, that I’m good enough for you to forgive me.” He whispers, voice wavering. “I want this to work. I want you. God, I miss you.”

Maybe that’s what you needed, you needed to hear him render his heart open.

You come closer, pressing your front to his.

“And even my job—“ He curses, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then the spot between your eyebrows. “I’ll quit.” When you giggle, he huffs. “I’m serious. Give me the word and I’ll quit.”

The tension in his chest eases when you tuck your head beneath his chin. “God, no, don’t do that. At least one of us needs an income.” You mutter, throwing an arm around his waist.

Forgiveness never felt so sweet.

[dollfacefantasy]

hiii i’m not sure if you particularly like writing hybrid!reader but can i pls request something with leon where he tries to feel out his bunny/dog hybrid gf’s kinks by seeing how her tail moves in response to them. like something she really likes she’ll wag her tail real fast and he finds it adorable

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader

summary: leon plays with his precious puppy girl by watching her tail

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, humping his boot, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, scent kink, dacryphilia, and size kink

word count: 2.6k

a/n: no because i love this idea so much. it's been in my head since i got it. i hope i did it justice because i think it's so cute. thank you for sending it and i hope you enjoy <3

Leon’s eyes rested upon his favorite sight in the whole world. His precious puppy girl kneeling at his feet. If he had to guess, he’d say it was your favorite place to be too. All signs pointed to that conclusion. Your eyes were wide and locked onto his face. Your body vibrated and squirmed with the urge to jump into his lap. And of course, the way your tail wagged back and forth.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The fluffy appendage moves in a lazy rhythm right now. You were excited Leon was home and wanted to play, but you weren’t thrilled enough for it to turn to a blur. He chuckles and reaches a hand forward to rub your head. That gets it to speed up a little bit.

“You have a good day, pup?” he asks.

You scoot the slightest bit closer while nodding. You tilt your head to the side, squishing the flesh of your cheek against his knee.

“Yeah? What’d you do today?” he says.

“Took a nap. Watched the tv,” you answer, “You look tired, daddy.”

He smiles at your observation and scratches at the base of one of your ears. Those ears, which were perked up at the moment, were so sensitive to everything. The wind knocking something over outside, his car pulling up on the driveway, and of course, small changes in his inflection. 

Though he sometimes wondered if that’s all it was. He sees the way your tail picks up a notch when his lips curl upwards with that smile. He wondered, if not hoped, that it was something more than just your heightened physical capabilities. If maybe, there was something within you, something deeper, some instinctive emotional connection that bound you to him. That was probably wishful thinking. Someone who understood him implicitly. Still that was how he felt sometimes, and it was always lingering in the back of his mind when he watched your cute little ass wiggle back and forth with the movement of your tail.

“A little. Had a long day at work,” he tells you, continuing the conversation.

“Oh. Was it boring?” you inquire.

“You could say that,” he says.

“I get bored sometimes when you’re not here too,” you say.

The short, curt way you speak drives him up the wall. His hand on top of your head trails down to your cheek and gives it a little pinch before his thumb lands on your lips. Your tongue darts out to give the pad a small lick.

“Cute,” he murmurs as his fingers descend to your jawline and then your throat, “Why were you so bored, puppy? You have the whole house to yourself. You have enough toys to fill a room.”

“But I was missing my favorite toy,” you say, nuzzling against his leg.

“Oh, your favorite toy, huh?” he says. 

His fingers tease the edge of the smooth material that was wrapped around your neck. In place of a collar, you wore a pink satin ribbon. It bunched around to the front of your neck where it was tied in a pretty bow. Leon’s own handiwork. He never saw a reason to collar you. You were the most loyal little thing on the face of this Earth. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably just take up residence on the mat at the front door. He’d rather you look like the spoiled princess that you were and dress you in the pink ribbon to match the other pink items you wore, your camisole and panties.

You nod at the question he asked, the ends of your bow swaying with your motion.

“Yeah? Well, tell daddy. What’s your favorite toy?” he prompts you.

Your hand snakes up to the front of his jeans and paws at the area where you would soon feel the outline of his hardening dick.

“That’s your favorite?” he asks, feigning ignorance, “Wow. If I'd known that, I wouldn’t have bought you all those stuffies. Coulda saved me a ton of money. Just let you sit on my cock most of the time, and you’d be satisfied.”

You shrug, not caring to roll that proposition around in your head for actual consideration. Sure you loved your toys, but they didn’t come close to one tucked away inside daddy’s jeans.

He grins not only because you’re so fucking cute, but also because he can see your tail starting to go faster. As much as he wants to pull you onto his lap and breed you till you’re a mess of drool and tears, he wants more tonight. You were nothing if not eager, and while he loved that, it meant that it didn’t take much effort from you to get him to cum in minutes. You’d just get so tight, you never suppressed any of your moans or whines, your face always scrunched up into needy expressions of euphoria…

Anyways. He just wanted to tease it out tonight.

“You have been a good girl today. I think you deserve some time with your favorite toy,” he says, watching the specific twitch when he said the two words of praise, “You wanna play with it right now?”

You nod almost as quickly as your tail wags. A sonorous laugh echoes from him. His eyes hold that glint that lets you know there’s more.

“What’s your favorite way to play with it, baby? You like bouncing on it?” he asks, his voice gaining an amused lilt.

You don’t respond with words. He knows your nodding, but his focus is on your backside where he’s getting the only response he needs.

Swish.

“Maybe you like taking it face down, whining into the pillow?” he continues.

Swish Swish.

“Or maybe you like being on your back, legs over daddy’s shoulders?”

Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish.

“I think that’s the winner,” he chuckles, “Why is that your favorite, pup?”

“It gets deeper,” you say. He watches as you try to be subtle about scooching closer. He wasn’t going to stop you though.

“Oh I see,” he says, nodding his head in mock realization, “You want it as deep as possible, right? And to do that, I have to pin you down, keep you underneath me where I can just fill that pussy up over and over. You like being helpless, princess?”

As his tone becomes more husky, you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Your hips fight the urge to squirm, but your tail can’t stop flinging itself back and forth. A tingling flame had been lit inside your belly, one you desperately wanted him to put out.

“Yeah. You love when I’m in charge. You love when all you have to do is take it like a good girl, and you can just let that little brain melt away,” he taunts. With each swish of your tail, it’s like he can hear a game show buzzer ringing in his points.

You wrap your arms around his leg that was nearest to you and pathetically whimper out “daddy.”

“What is it, puppy?” he coos.

You look up at him and give him the definition of puppy eyes. “I want it. No more teasing,” you whine. Despite your demanding words, you stay put. You were a good girl after all, and good girls wait for permission.

“What? You want it?” he mocks, “What’s the rush, baby? You don’t like daddy’s voice anymore? You sure were liking it last night when you were all sleepy. Just whining and clinging onto me, begging me not to pull out.”

The movements of your tail start to become blurry as you remember the previous night. He’d fucked you so good and talked you through it the whole time. The main difference between now and then was that then you had his cock stuffed inside you while he spoke.

“I do like it,” you defend with a pout, “But I just want it, daddy. Please. Wanna be full of you.”

“Full,” he repeats, “Does daddy stretch you out? Make you feel like there’s no room for anything else?”

You nod again, but you can’t take it anymore. You scoot forward more so your knees rest on either side of his boot. His knee kisses the space beneath your chin while the rest of his leg is flush up against your tummy, going straight between your breasts. He knows what you’re about to do, but he’s fine with it. Tilting the tip of his boot upwards, he gives you silent permission to start rocking your hips.

That was all you needed to close the gap between the top of his shoe and your clothed cunt. Lowering yourself slightly, your puffy clit brushes the leather. You let out a tiny mewl. Your face was already starting to scrunch up into a cute little look from such a simple touch.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he teases.

“Yeah, daddy. Thank you,” you whimper.

Your hips move back and forth as if on a pendulum. The rhythm is consistent like the pacing of your tail. Back and forth, back and forth.

“I think you soaked through your panties, pretty baby. You gonna get daddy’s shoe all nice and shiny? Make it smell like you?” he says with a smug grin.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. 

But when Leon mentions scenting his boot, your tail starts going crazy. Absolutely buck wild. He wouldn’t be shocked if you sprained something from how hard it was moving. God, he was getting hard. A solid tent had formed in the center of his lap from watching you. So precious, so adorable. Those pants and whines of pure lust. The way your fingers were digging into the leg you held onto like you needed it to survive. The nonstop rutting of your hips matching up with the wag of your tail.

“Woah woah. Think my girl might be a little possessive,” he says as he watches you. He keeps his tone light. He wanted this to play out before he let himself have any. To stave off his desires, he palms himself over the rough denim.

Your eyes catch that, and it’s almost comical how you nearly drool. “I just want everyone to know you’re mine. You're my daddy. They can’t have you,” you say, nestling your face against his legs.

Your own pleasure builds in the pit of your belly. You’d found the perfect amount of pressure on his boot. You just had to keep grinding your aching cunt into the leather.

“Poor baby. No one’s gonna take me from you,” he croons and strokes your head. His hand moves so much slower than any of your body parts and the contrast intensifies the pleasure further.

“Good,” you say.

“Mhm. Trust me, you keep my hands full as is,” he jokes.

He watches as you keep whining and humping his boot. Your hips move like you’re on the clock. He can feel drool starting to drip on his jeans and dampen the fabric. If only he could see your eyes. He knows they’re getting glossy, hazy with the bliss coming from between your legs. Lucky for him, a particular jolt of ecstasy pulls your head back and ends with your face looking up at him.

“You’re getting to daddy’s favorite part, honey. Keep going, Keep being a good girl,” he says. Again, your tail jerks when it registers the magic words. You snap your hips with renewed fervor, chasing the elusive high. His fingers press down harder against his cock as he sees the gleam of saliva coating your chin and lips.

“When do we get to my favorite part?” you babble. Your voice was starting to give as the warmth of carnal pleasure encroaches on your mind.

“And what is your favorite part?” he asks, knowing what your answer would be.

“The part when I actually get your cock,” you whimper.

He shakes his head. “Look at you. Trying to be smart while you’re going dumb,” he teases, “Quit complaining. You’re still getting to feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” you whine instantly.

“Oh really? It looks pretty similar to me,” he says.

You make a small sound that’s halfway between a whine and a growl. Even with your frustration though, your hips don’t stop.

“I’m just teasing you, pup,” he says, stroking your jaw with his free hand, “I guess it is different. I don’t see you crying like you do when I’m buried inside. I don’t get to see those pretty eyelashes all wet from tears.”

Your eyes roll back at the mention of being so fucked out you cry. It was one of your favorites, and Leon knew it. Being reduced to a crumpled mess of sobs against the heat of his chest got you like almost nothing else.

The reactions etched across your facial features are cute, but he can’t tear his focus away from your ass moving against its will through the force of your tail.

“But that’s not the big difference, is it?” he continues, “No. The real reason you want my cock is cause you want daddy to breed you, huh?”

As soon as it leaves his mouth, it’s like his mental buzzer is letting him know he’s won the grand prize. Everything about you goes haywire. You lock around his leg while your hips rut like you’re in heat. Your tail whips around so fast he thinks it could create a breeze.

“Uh huh, daddy- ah! Mm… just wanna be bred. Need it,” you ramble.

He feels his cock twitching in his pants. He’s sure when he actually does get it in you, he’s not gonna last too long. It’s straining against the zipper as is, and he can’t stop rubbing it. He’s almost as bad as you on the boot.

“I know you do. Silly little puppy. That’s always what you need,” he coos, “Just need to be pumped full of cum. My sweet girl.”

Your tongue is half lolled out of your mouth by this point. You’re past going dumb. Your head is swimming around in absolute thoughtlessness. Not a care in the world besides getting yourself to cum all over daddy’s boot.

He nearly groans out loud from the sight of it. He can feel the warmth of your pussy all over his shoe, the plush of your thighs clamped near the sides.

“You’re doing perfect, baby,” he mutters, “You’re gonna get your treat, I promise. Just let daddy watch you cum, and I’ll make sure you get your fill.”

You want to whimper “ok, daddy,” but your mind is too far gone for words. All that comes out is a strangled amalgamation of sounds accompanied by your head wobbling up and down. And the whole time swish swish swish.

Your swollen little clit had more than enough stimulation to get you to burst. Pants turn to gasps and fluid movements sharpen. You mumble against his leg, your lips squishing all over his pants and wetting them even more with your spit.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs, which is enough to get another loud moan out of you. He chuckles and continues watching with his half-lidded, lustful eyes.

As the movement of your hips slow, your tail’s swings weaken. He still strokes your head as you catch your breath. Your chest puffs in and out while you feel your skin cooling down. It was hard not to get sleepy after you came, but before you have to worry about falling asleep at his feet, Leon scoops you up and holds you on his lap.

Rubbing your back, he presses some kisses to your forehead and temple. “There’s my girl. How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Good, daddy,” you mutter against his shirt.

“Yeah? You think you’re up for daddy breeding you for real now?” he whispers.

And suddenly, you’re not so sleepy. You sit up straight in time with your ears perking up. You nod and give him a lazy smile. He can’t see it, but he can feel that tail already starting to wag again.

[blvdheart]

TIARAS AND TEACUPS

→ just some fluffy drabbles and headcanons on leon being a girl dad

NOTE: listen i don’t even want kids in the future but for this man?? if he was real and mine then trust i would change my mind real quick ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

this is pretty short, less than 1k words hehe

i.

Leon would never hear the end of it from his coworkers if they saw him like this. There was a plastic tiara with fake pink jewels resting atop his hair. He was sitting criss cross applesauce, for he was a little too big to sit on the tiny chairs his daughter had placed her plushies on.

“Daddy, here’s your cup!” She chimed happily, placing a small toy teacup right in front of him.

“Thank you princess, it’s a pretty set.” His hand could easily cover the entire cup, but to be graceful, he held the handle with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s on the menu?”

“Brownies and…and cookies.” She had a small container of them, having gotten some from the batch you baked the other night. “I’m gonna go get mommy, make sure Mrs. Teddy doesn’t drop her tea!”

Leon looked so out of place, but he was happy, watching with a smile as his daughter ran out of the room to go get you. And surely enough, you joined the tea party a couple minutes later, a matching headpiece on your head and your daughter giggling as she tugged you by the hand and took you to where she wanted you to sit.

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh when you saw Leon, and he seemed to catch on, grinning at you. “Look who’s late.”

“Fashionably late.” You corrected him as you pointed at your crown, taking a seat on the floor.

“Yay all my guests are here! I’ll hand out the food but don’t eat without me, okay?”

Leon was always emotional when he was in the same room as the two people he treasured the most.

He could still remember when his daughter was just a newborn baby. He almost broke down that day as soon as he heard her first cries, he never thought he’d get the blessing of parenthood.

ii.

If there’s one thing about Leon as a dad, it’s that he really has no backbone when it comes to his adorable daughter. Lecturing wasn’t his strong suit, he just wanted to spoil her. Thankfully, she didn’t have a knack for finding trouble so he didn’t have to worry all that much.

Here Leon was opening the letter he had gotten from his daughter’s elementary school, skimming through it only to see all the positive commentary the homeroom teacher had left. He was a proud father, and he took her on a trip to the store so she could pick out something nice.

“Don’t worry your little head about the price, okay? You deserve something special, you’re doing so well at school.” He gave her head a gentle pat, staying close behind her energetic form as she scanned the aisle for toys.

Toys. Great. Leon was sure he would sob when his little girl started asking for electronics and cosmetics. God, how he wished these years didn’t fly by so quickly. He had to make the most of them.

“Anything? Even a scooter?”

“Uh huh, even a scooter. Want one?”

“Yeah they’re awesome! Can we go look at them? I wanted to ask for one last Christmas but it was really cold so I wouldn’t have even been able to play outside much to use it. But it’s almost summer now so it would be nice and…”

She continued rambling on and on while Leon smiled happily. He held her hand and walked her over to where the scooters and bikes were.

Though he was a little concerned. What if she fell one day and scraped her knee? Or what if she hit her ankle with the scooter? Worst pain ever. Either way, he’d have to buy her a helmet and some knee pads.

Being a dad was kinda stressful.

iii.

Leon would try to be there for major milestones as much as possible. Yeah, sometimes he couldn’t be there because of the spontaneity of his demanding job, but he made sure to make everything worthwhile when he was present.

Whenever her birthday came up, he’d let Sherry babysit her for a few hours so she wouldn’t be at the house while you and him were decorating the place.

“Our little girl is growing up so fast. She’s already wanting to sit in the passenger seat, can you believe that?”

“You big ol’ softie.” You laughed a bit at his sulking, but you felt the same way, going over to hug him and comfort him. He held your hips, nuzzling against the crook of you neck. He loved you so much, he’d know nothing about happiness without you.

“I think I finally understand what the adults in my life would say when I was younger.”

“And what’s that?”

“That when you’re a parent, your children don’t really get older in your eyes. Yeah she’s about to turn ten but…she’s still our baby girl. I feel like she’s still three.”

HEADCANONS

𐙚 Leon would definitely be the type to look up some tutorials on YouTube so he could learn how to do his daughter’s hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, wavy, or really curly. He’ll get all the products and get as much practice as possible

𐙚 For bedtime stories he’d just make up child friendly versions of his missions. B.O.W’s would become dragons, he’d be some sort of knight, and the setting would be a magical forest instead of some isolated and creepy location. And of course there’d be a happily ever after. In a way, this also helps him cope with his experiences

𐙚 Even in a modern world where cards are used more than cash (much to his dismay), he carries around lots of quarters just in case his daughter wants to get something out of a sticker or candy vending machine

[writingwisterias]

Day 3: Cock Warming

RE4R! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Cock Warming, Desk Sex, Dom Leon, Sub Reader, Unprotected Sex, Oral (M Receiving), Slight Dd/Lg Dynamic Masterlist

You could hear his footsteps going between the office and bathroom as Leon tackled his never-ending stream of paperwork and emails. Never mind the fact that you had partly been the reason it was taking him so long but ever since he's been back from Spain he seemed so distant. He wasn’t ignoring you but trying to get through the reports he had to type so he could spend time with you, but after you made too much noise or fidgeted on his lap constantly distracting him, he kicked you out of the office with a stern look. You could have accepted defeat and waited until he was ready to shower you with love, but that wasn’t fun. With the growing arousal from your thoughts and plan you waited until you heard his footsteps pad towards the bathroom again. 

Once you heard the soft thuds of his feet leave the room you dashed as quietly as you could. Sneaking your way under the desk making sure you were tucked away hidden until he returned. You could hear him groan slightly as he stretched out his muscles, his joints clicking audible from how long he had spent at his desk. The chair scraped across the floor as he pulled it out ready to sit on it for another few hours only to smirk and let out a low chuckle when he saw you curled into the space with an innocent smile. “And how may I help you?” He joked when he sat in the chair, watching you uncurl yourself slightly so you were sat obediently on your knees. You rested your chin against his knee looking up at him with doe eyes. “Well?” He added, his voice slightly lower. His eyebrow quirked up as he waited for a response. “I just missed you” You whined. He almost caved, he could feel his chest ache at your words; at the display of your devotion to him despite what he did for work. His hand ran through the strands of your hair, petting you like some dog. You didn't care he was showing you a slither of attention. Leon smirked at your effort not to move, to keep still as you received the affection he was offering to you. “How about you keep me company under here and I’ll treat you afterwards?” He said. 

You thought about it, you had no idea how much work he had left or how long it was going to take him. However, all doubts left your mind as he freed himself from his sweats. His cock was always such a pretty colour to you, a long vein running up the length becoming more prominent the longer to look at him. “Don’t be shy” he teased as tapped the tip against your lips, the pre cum smearing like it was a lip gloss. You welcomed him in, your tongue flattening on the underside of his length. You adjusted your breathing through your nose, resting your head against his thigh as you settled in between his legs. Your pussy throbbed in excitement the walls clenching over nothing as you tasted the saltness of him. Leon grunted slightly, the only sign he gave off that you were affecting him. However, after he composed himself he adjusted himself in the chair ‘accidentally’ thrusting himself further into the back of your throat, a small smirk grew on his face as you choked slightly. 

Your jaw began to ache, you had made a mess of the grey sweat as your drool dribbled around his length and down your chin. He was now painfully hard inside your mouth, his cock twitched every time you attempted to swallow. Leon was now leaning forward as he proofread his document, his hand playing with the ends of your hair in a comforting manner. You were almost ready to fall asleep, completely content with being in his space. That was until he jolted again forcing his cock further into his mouth. Leon’s control was loosening the more he looked down. His balls were soaked with dribble, the fabric now cooling as the evening temperature began to settle in. He watched you smile around his cock, your mouth stretched so perfectly and willingly for him. “Doing so well, I’m almost done” he spoke looking down at you with a smirk. You whined around his cock, whimpering at his tip twitching at the back of your throat. His fingers slowly gripped the back of your head, helping you move your head up and down his length as he read the last paragraph. Making sure he was well-prepped for what he was about to do. 

Leon tapped your cheek, and your eyes flicked up to his widening at the darkened stare he was giving you. His eyes were blown out with lust. You heard the laptop shut, the draw beside your head opening as he slid the device inside. He tidied the papers, each time he stretched or moved his cock jolted inside you. Your whimpers vibrated around the length; making sure to gather every inch that slipped from your lips as he moved. He gripped your head again, slowly dragging you off his cock with a pop. He grinned at the line of saliva that connected your lips to him, your jaw aching now it was no longer filled. Leon helped you stand up, holding you as you stretched out your knees. Once he was satisfied you were loosened up he pulled you in for a kiss, his body backing you up towards the desk. You gasped as you tripped, your back hitting the cold wood. Leon smirked at you his teeth instantly grazing your neck as his fingers searched for your drenched underwear. The pads of his fingers swiped at the drenched fabric admiring the way it looked in the light as he pulled away with a smirk. “I promised I would reward you didn’t I if you were a good girl?” He spoke against your ear, his hands looping inside the waistbands of your underwear as he began to tug them down your leg. “Do you think you were a good girl, keeping my cock warm like that?” 

You nodded smiling at the attention he was finally giving you after days. “Such an attention whore” He grunted, his cock entering in a fluid motion. You were both more than ready, the wet sounds of your activities filling his office, the wood beneath becoming damp as your arousal dribbled out. Leon’s hands gripped at your waist, admiring the way your breasts bounced with every movement. His hips drove into you with such force you were propelling up the desk. Your eyes were hazy as they met his, babbling nonsense at him as you smiled. White hot pleasure thumped throughout your system, and your clit twitched as the cold air breezed passed it. Your eyes took in Leon’s muscles clenching, watching as his mouth opened letting out deep primal groans as his release drew near rapidly.

You threw your head back, breathless moans leaving your lips as you arched yourself into him. Your body went limp as your orgasm finally shattered throughout you. Leon took advantage and moulded you into the position he needed, your legs thrown over his arms as he took a deeper angle dragging your body across the desk to meet his thrusts. Soon enough he buried himself deep inside of you, his seed coating your walls and spilling out into the mess you had already made. You could feel the bruises already forming on your hips from his iron grip, your eyes finally met his. Though he held such lust that you knew you were in a round two as he scooped you up in his arms- his cock still snugly inside you as he carried you through to the bedroom. The door slams shut behind you both with one kick.

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @drawboo22 @luvlouiee @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo

[glorysbox]

breeding w di Leon ??????????😩😩

leon x afab!reader

wc: 1.8k

tags: explicitly 18+, breeding obvs, pregnancy mention, reader has breasts

“I’m getting old.” Leon mutters, pausing momentarily to sip at his mug full of coffee that you’d brewed for him a few moments earlier. You raise an eyebrow at this; head turning ever so slightly to meet his gaze. It’s been a few weeks since he’d been on the mission to Alcatraz. There’s been a personality shift that’s come over him in this time—at first, you just chalked it up to self-reflection from a near death experience.

Maybe there’s something else to it.

“You keep saying that,” you note, attention back on the kitchen counter as you prepare breakfast for the both of you. “You’re not.”

“I am. You can’t deny it. And you know, well…” he sighs, setting the mug down. “I’ve been thinking about some things. About us.”

This gets your attention. You turn fully to face him now.

He stands, advancing towards you, trapping you in between his body and the counter behind you. Leon’s lips are on yours nearly immediately—and while you appreciate the gesture and the taste of hazelnut coffee creamer that lingers in his mouth, you’re feeling a bit…

Nervous.

Your nerves quickly shift into a feeling of something else, the sensation of Leon’s hands squeezing on your waist quickening your heartbeat—that familiar aching between your thighs reddening your face at his touch. His eyes are on you as you part, examining the pretty slopes and curves of your face—but your nerves quickly shift back to that feeling of uncertainty.

“I love you,” he starts, hands furthering up your torso. One hand runs over the curve of your stomach, shifting back to the fat of your hip. “And I’ve been thinking about just how good you’d look pregnant.”

Your breath comes out in slight pants at the feeling of his hands tracing over the contour of your body. Leon leans in, placing feather-light kisses over the soft skin of your neck—the feeling of his lips and the prickle of his stubble admittedly making your knees weak. He smells good, like home; like aftershave and cologne from the night before when he’d fallen asleep with his arms around you.

His hands snake up the long shirt that you’re wearing—one of his that you’d fished from his dresser ages ago—traveling from your waist up to cup your breasts. His tongue runs over the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning over the sensitive feel of your skin. You shudder.

“Think about it. Me, you, a family…” Leon’s tone is hushed as he speaks in your ear, thumb toying at the sensitive peaks of your nipple. You feel him smile as he places a kiss on your temple, something you can hardly focus on from the feel of his hand caressing your breasts. “Don’t you want that?”

“I—” Your breath hitches at the feeling of deft fingertips running along the now sodden cotton of your panties, thighs shifting and molding around the shape of his hand between your thighs. “I… yes, of course. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but…”

“But?” He questions, tugging the wet fabric aside enough for his fingers to drag along your sticky folds. Leon’s breath fans on your neck, his cock stiff against the inside of your thigh. It’s thick and hard and throbbing and has your walls clenching around nothing—needy from just the idea of him being inside of you.

“But…” Your voice is low, teetering out pathetically at the feeling of the pad of his thumb toying with your clit. His movements are slow and methodical, circling—almost too much while simultaneously being not enough. “Your job, and…”

The way your bottom lip catches in your teeth makes him want to kiss you—and fill you with his cum—all the more. It’s been plaguing his thoughts ever since Alcatraz.

“We can work that out,” he mumbles, finger hovering around your entrance, collecting the arousal that seeps from you in anticipation. Your nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, head hanging low at the feeling of the digit threatening to breach inside of you. It’s too much. But not enough. “Work’s been slowing down. Doubt that they’d want to keep an old man like me out on the field too long anyway.”

You go to speak—you want to scold him for calling himself old, even though it’s undeniably true—but you’re cut off by the sound of your own whine at the feeling of his finger pushing its way inside of you.

He only goes as far as the first knuckle… but the gasp that falls from your lips coupled with a low moan has him a bit too eager to hear more from you. Leon inserts a second finger, the pad of his thumb pressing a fleeting amount of pressure on the sensitive bud of your clit. He’s patient as he finger-fucks you, scissoring you open with methodical movements that have your knees weak and your face hot.

You’re too busy whining his name to realize the way he’s looking at you.

Too needy to notice the way his cock throbs at the feeling of your wetness around his fingers; too drunk on his touch to see the way that his blue eyes are trained so intently on the sight of his fingers slipping out of you and pushing their way back inside. He slides his fingers out of you, marveling at the strings of sticky arousal that cling to them.

“So,” he pauses momentarily—brings his fingers to his tongue—and wraps his lips around them. “Did I convince you?”

You nod.

It’s not long before you feel the coldness of his fingers—wet from you and from his own mouth—hooking along the lace hem of your underwear to tug them down. The cotton pools at your ankles.

“You’re fucking me on the counter?” The question falls from your lips breathlessly; the feeling of his hand squeezing at the fat of your ass eliciting more noise from you than you’d be willing to admit.

“Sure am,” he mutters, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he pulls the fabric of his pants down just enough to free his cock. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to make up for this. I intend on—“

He hoists you up properly, arm keeping you suspended in the air, eyes on the slick sticky mess that’s littered your thighs. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist. The head of his cock prods at your entrance—leaking precum enough to leave you wondering if he’d left a sticky stain on the cotton of his gray boxers.

“—stuffing you full of cum everyday until I see a positive test.”

Something tells you that he plans to make good on his promise.

He slides into you slowly; the pace agonizing as his cock stretches and splits you open—your walls shaping around his size, nails digging further into the skin of his arm. You shudder at the sound of his voice in your ear; low and needy and whiny for the feeling of the warmth of your walls instinctively gripping around his shaft.

“Leon,” he audibly groans at the sound of his name from your lips—how breathless and pretty and needy you sound for him. “Please, I—“

His fingers leave indents in the skin of your ass, his hips pressing into you so agonizingly slow to the point where you’re beginning to ache from the feeling of needing him so desperately.

“Come on,” Leon buries himself to the hilt—reveling at the feeling of the softness of your body against his. The granite edge of the counter digs at your back; a non-issue considering the fact that you’re struggling to keep your composure at the feeling of Leon balls deep inside of you. “You can take it.”

You nod.

Crescent moon shaped indentations are left on the muscle of his back, red and angry—unnoticed by the feeling of him plunging into you; his hips flush against yours with each slip of his cock inside of you. Sticky strings of arousal begin to line down his thighs—the creamy ring pooling at the base of his cock fueling the pathetic whimpers that slip from your and his lips.

Leon roughly fucks into you, pace unforgiving as your insides uncontrollably quiver and squeeze around him. You pray that no one can hear the both of you through the opened window of your kitchen—the sound of his balls slapping against your skin entirely too loud—coupled with the noisy moans that seep from your lips and the low grunts that seep from his. You can hardly tell the color of his eyes; his pupils blown so wide that you’d mistake them for brown if you weren’t aware they were blue.

He leans forward—hips still snapping against your own—and presses his lips against your own. It’s uncoordinated. It’s needy. It’s wet and sloppy as he struggles to focus on the fact that he’s supposed to be kissing you when you feel so good and tight and wet and warm around him.

He greedily tongues at your lips and greedily ruts into your pussy, movements bordering on feral at the feeling of you and the thought of stuffing you with his cum. The pretty noises that fall from your mouth drive him forward, lips still on your own as he swallows every semblance of a mewl that you make from the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

Leon pulls away for a moment—lips reattaching to your neck, trailing to your throat, savoring the taste of your skin. He’s losing himself. Losing himself to the overwhelming urge to put a baby in you; to the idea of your body softening and breasts swelling and hips widening—to the idea of just how perfect you’d look with his kid in you.

You squeal at the feeling of the pad of his thumb on your clit, thighs clenching and trembling and shaking around his waist—nails digging further into the meat of his back as his relentless pace falters and rhythm stutters towards sloppiness. Leon coaxes you further towards your orgasm, motion of his thumbs pulling an orgasm from your swollen, throbbing clit; the pulsating of your walls pulling him deeper into you and effectively milking his cock.

The sight of you—back arching, legs trembling, jaw slack, body spasming—it’s too much. His cock twitches, his hips sputter; his grip on you borders on pain—and you can’t do anything but take it. You feel it before you realize it. You feel the slight quiver of his body against yours. You feel his lips on your throat, tongue pressing on the rapid pulsing of the vein on your neck. You feel the warm, sticky ropes of his cum that he’d stuffed in you with no shame.

He places slow kisses along your jawline—cock still stuffed in you, plugging his cum inside—and again, you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Mm.” Leon’s voice is barely audible as he mutters in your ear. “S’ not enough. Let me give you some more.”

[bwskj]

for all the artists who drew leon tied up with a pink ribbon UGHHHHHH thank u here’s a short (re4??) x reader <3

———

“what the hell is this for?” he softly grumbles as your fingers work to loop the dainty pink ribbon around and around until it forms a pretty bow over his two wrists. though sounding annoyed, you can tell he’s curious with the way his head is gently bowed as he watches you work.

you stay silent because you’re not entirely sure what to say. to make him pretty? well he already is pretty. just cause you wanna? yea, just cause.

your eyes enjoy the sight of his big (clearly overworked) hands clasped together as you tweak and pull at the ribbon to make it look extra neat. when you still don’t answer, he starts to raise up a hand, pulling the other along with it.

you place your own over his to stop his movement, and leon brings his gaze up to look at you, subtle puzzlement strewn across his face.

“you know this isn’t going to restrain me right,” he says.

“doesn’t matter,” you breathe out, pushing your knees into the couch and properly seating yourself on his lap.

“what’s the point then?” he huffs a slightly annoyed sigh, face following yours as you fall a little bit shorter now that you’ve settled yourself all comfy on him.

grabbing his face in your hands, you hold it still, though you know he isn’t even planning to look anywhere else. “you ask too many questions.” your chest shudders with an amused scoff.

his faded blue eyes both so piercing and soft stare deep into your own pair. your strong baby boy, all tied and cozied up in your palms… is what you think, and as the seconds stretch, you notice his expression growing so enamored with you that he’s practically melting in your grasp; it’s absolutely not the flimsy ribbon keeping him in place.

you surprise him by taking his bottom lip between your own pair, sucking gently and extending purposely over to the side of his warming cheek. when you pull away, his eyes have dropped to your lips. he moves to chase after it but your hand pushing lightly on his chest holds himself back.

“what does it matter when you just listen to me anyways?” you say softly with a pleased smile on your face, fingertips scratching below his ear.

“of course,” he mumbles, eyes still locked and staring. hands held by the tied ribbon find a fragile grip on the fabric of your blouse. “you know i’ll do anything if it keeps the princess happy.”

“the princess?”

the corner of his lip twitches and he leans his head back a little as your fingertips caress over his soft jaw and down his adams apple. “…my princess.” you can feel his throat swallow over the pad of your thumb. butterflies flutter awake in your stomach.

moments later, you must’ve fallen into a trance, fixated on playing with his freshly-shaved stubble. you’re blinking quick when you feel leon’s tiny pinch of a hold tug at your shirt. “princess…” you look up into his lidded eyes and you notice that he’s subtly drawing closer, “kiss me again… please.”

———

a/n: bruh i can’t i need him so bad i miss him i need to write some more but this is all i can pump out rn please take this offering my loves. i will come back with longer ones <33

if yall know more “leon tied up with pink ribbon” art, pls send them to me… xoxo

[ninibeingdelulu]

Seeing you comforting a child…

ft. leon kennedy, cloud strife

Leon Kennedy would never dare admit it openly, but the stoic, badass exterior melted away ever so slightly at the sight of you tenderly comforting a lost child.

That time in the ransacked village, when the haunting wails of a youngster pierced the air amidst the carnage - Leon instinctively tensed, jaw setting grimly as his grip tightened on his rifle.

But then he spotted you already racing ahead unhesitatingly. Dropping to one knee, arms outstretched in a gentle beckoning posture as the little one startled then sprinted straight into your protective embrace.

Your soothing tones murmured comforting assurances while cradling their trembling form close against you. Fingers carding soothingly through tangled hair with the utmost tender care.

And Leon couldn't tear his widened eyes away from the tenderhearted display. Throat constricting over the unexpected lump suddenly materializing there.

That million-watt smile radiating from your features as you rocked them patiently until whimpering quieted was like the first vibrant blossom peeking through the ash after a nuclear winter.

An oasis of affectionate nurturing shining through the oppressive bleakness suffocating them both for far too painfully long.

Leon found his calloused finger-pads unconsciously drifting up to caress his own chapped lips as if wishing to physically absorb the tranquil serenity you effortlessly exuded.

Eyelids momentarily fluttering closed while permitting himself to just bask in the warmth emanating from your very presence like a soothing balm against all the harrowing darkness poisoning them both.

A tremulous sigh escaped between those parted lips as the barest ghost of a smile tugged at their corners for the first time in...Christ, had it really been years since he last felt anything even remotely resembling that fleeting glimmer of unguarded optimism blossoming in his chest?

The peaceful tableau you presented with the now-placid child tucked securely in your arms struck Leon deeper than any physical combat wound ever could.

Worming past every steel-plated layer of defenses, countermeasures and failsafes, straight down into the most vulnerable core of his humanity he'd sworn died an agonizing death ages ago.

It terrified yet entranced him in equal measure just drinking in the serene display. Eventually those narrowed steel-blue irises regained some of their piercing guardedness while surreptitiously cataloging every nuance etched upon your expressions and ministrations.

As if desperately searing the moment into his consciousness to be revisited and clung onto later through whatever hell awaited them next.

Thank Christ for your influence and the inexplicable balm it provided against the miasma of torment clouding Leon's withered soul more with every passing abyss they navigated together...

The uncompromising mask remained solidly affixed in place by the time you finally lifted your eyes to meet his guarded gaze, the child nestled peacefully into the crook of your neck.

Not a single flicker of that momentary softness penetrated the hauntingly chiseled granite of his features now.

Yet behind that shuttered and fortified thousand-yard stare, the barest ember pulsed with renewed tenacity suffusing Leon's frigid disposition with almost undetectable glimmers of warmth.

All because of your natural radiance and selfless compassion reminding him why they fought on through each grueling gauntlet.

Sure he'd never verbalize sentiments that unbearably raw and guileless aloud. But that infinitesimal spark continuing to miraculously smolder despite all efforts to smother it was enough to propel them onward through any escalating onslaught yet to come.

This time with a renewed fervor steeling Leon's adamantine determination from the inside out.

The desolate, mako-tainted wastes proved no place for a child's cries. Yet the haunting echoes still pierced straight through Cloud's calloused defenses when tiny lungs unleashed their heartrending wails upon the barren landscape.

His gloved grip instinctively clenched tighter around the battered Buster Sword's hilt, jaw tensing as those predatory ice-blue irises immediately snapped towards the source of the disturbance.

Fully prepared for whatever fresh horror emerged after the merc caught fleeting movement through his peripherals.

But the cautious sweep revealed only your slender form already hastening ahead. Moving with fluid grace directly towards the sobbing bundle tucked against a crumbling wall.

His firm chapped lips tightened into a grim line witnessing you unhesitatingly drop to one knee before the distressed child without any apparent armaments at the ready.

From this distance, Cloud glimpsed your gentle features soften with bottomless compassion wholly separate from the usual battlefield ferocity.

Small hands unfurled in placating gestures exuding profound warmth and sincerity instantly easing some of the fractures riddling his own battered soul simply by proximity.

While you deftly coaxed the tiny thing into your embrace with susurrant tones and infinitely patient ministrations, Cloud suddenly found himself robbed of breath altogether.

Those glacial spheres wide and stunned at the exquisitely tender vision you presented cradling their fragility so reverently. A profound ache lodged behind his breastbone at the maternal aura emanating from your whole being.

He swallowed convulsively over the sandpaper abrasions rasping along his windpipe.

Gloved fingers betraying the slightest tremor disturbing his usual uncompromising stoicism while still drinking in every indelible detail of the intimate scene unraveling.

From the tender flickering caresses smoothed across tangled russet locks to your honeyed vocals humming soothing melodies of consolation.

All suffusing the stale, mako-saturated atmosphere with vibrant healing essences Cloud found himself instinctively gravitating closer towards.

Feather-light brushes scritched lovingly along the whimpering child's back forming hypnotic ellipses mirroring your unguarded smile radiating all-encompassing warmth across those cherubic cheeks now drenched in tear tracks.

Until finally after an eternity, the miniature form stilled in your arms. Body unlocking from its terrified rigor mortis into the very picture of youthful tranquility tucked securely against your heartbeat.

Cloud hadn't even realized he'd been holding his own respiration captive until the soft sigh expelled in a shuddering rush between lax lips.

A full-bodied flinch rattled his broad shoulders at its sudden harsh volume intruding upon the sacred tableau before him.

But thankfully, your features remained beautifully serene, wholly undisturbed while continuing to rock the now-quieted bundle in gentle rhythms.

Only then did molten sapphire pools drift up to lock with his widened stare burning with intensity across the slender lacuna separating you. A tremor not wholly attributable to anxiety skittered down his whip-cord musculature watching your radiant smile intensify directed solely towards Cloud.

As if silently communicating your infinite gratitude for him bearing witness to such an intimate and precious moment blossoming in this scorched hellscape...

Whatever parched recesses comprising the haunted mercenary's core still retained the capacity for absorbing nurturing warmth - it suddenly flooded within the confines of his barrel chest when those infinitely compassionate irises shone their benediction upon him.

Unknotting every rigid sinew and ligament hardened into a battle-tempered carapace purely through the power of your tender, life-affirming essence.

Almost imperceptibly, Cloud's chapped lips softened around the faintest half-curved suggestions budding there.

Posture unconsciously opening to welcome your pure light into his long-shadowed world while holding your loving gaze in mesmerized thrall.

As if determined to thoroughly archive this oasis of serenity and unconditional love in his consciousness so it may fortify whatever grueling battles destiny demanded they wage next.

Then in a single blink and a slight dip of your chin, the spell abruptly dissolved back into hyper-vigilance.

Yet even with the mercenary's legendary ice reformed across those exquisite Nordic features, perpetually braced for the next onslaught - a spark continued flickering in the hooded caverns of his stare.

A faint ember of something intangible yet transcendent now eternally kindled behind his armored exterior.

All because you'd reminded Cloud one of his most precious intangible dreams had been manifested into cherished reality...even under the most desolate conditions.

[finalresidentevilfantasy]

Re4 Leon who’s had a long day at the office. Briefing for his next mission. He feels like he’s only just returned to her after Spain and now they want him to leave again.

Re4 Leon who throws his keys into the cute little bowl his lover bought last year. He loves things like that, it’s the small details that matter to him, making their house feel like a home, she’s good at that.

Re4 Leon who’s mood lifts slightly as he smells what she’s cooking, his favourite. He swears she just knows when he’s in a foul mood or had a particularly rough day.

Re4 Leon who pads into the kitchen to find her, seeking her warmth and comfort. There she is, beautiful as ever, wiping her forearm across her forehead, no doubt she’s gotten hot. The heating in the house on high mixed with her cooking over a hot stove.

Re4 Leon who slides his arms around her waist, making her jump slightly before she relaxes back into his embrace, his head resting on top of her own. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Re4 Leon who just hums in response, pressing a kiss into her hair. Letting her scent fill his senses and her warmth seep into his own body. It wasn’t often Leon could say he felt content but when he was with her? Yeah, he was content, happy, relaxed.

Re4 Leon who stays like that for a while before she turns in his arms, her hands finding his cheeks as she rises on her tiptoes to give him a proper kiss. One Leon savours and is in no rush to stop.

Re4 Leon who slides his own hand up and into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he deepens the kiss. Tongue running over her bottom lip, seeking entry, her giggle making his heart flutter as she pushes him away slightly. “I need to put this in the oven.”

Re4 Leon who lets her do what she needs to do, heading into the living room after grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She was encouraging him to swap the alcohol for water, he appreciated how much she cared, it wasn’t often he was on the top of someone’s priority list.

Re4 Leon who smiles and instantly opens his arms in invitation as she seeks him out. Dinner now tended to. She grins back at him as she accepts his invitation, sliding into his lap, knees either side of his thighs as his hands rest on her own, stroking his thumb on the smooth surface.

Re4 Leon who has that feeling in his chest again, one he’s never really been used to but she makes it happen. He sometimes thinks his heart might just burst with how much he loves and adores the woman in his lap. “When are you next leaving?” She asked and he didn’t miss the sadness she tried to hide.

Re4 Leon who lifts a hand to her cheek, thumb stroking her face as he sighed, “next week” and he didn’t miss the flash of sadness in her eyes before she rested her forehead against his own. They always missed each other when he was away, she hated that he couldn’t check in, all she knew was when he leaves and when he’s due back. No information in between.

Re4 Leon who hates what his job does to her, how it makes her worry about him. He’ll never get used to the look of pure relief when he walks through the door after a mission, never misses that her finger nails are shorter due to her anxious biting. He’d tried to call it off once for those reasons but they couldn’t stay away from one another.

Re4 Leon who captures her lips with his own, sucking on her bottom lip slightly, he’d distract her for now. Leave the worry for tomorrow. He knew she was willing to take the distraction when she melted into him, reciprocating his kiss, soft and gentle to start off with.

Re4 Leon who’s so in love with this woman that his main goal of every mission now was to get home to her, as fast as he possibly can. Return home to the sanctuary she’s created for him. He’d vowed to himself a while ago that he’d always keep her safe, fight for a better world for her to live in. He needed her more than anyone could possibly try to understand, he really will do anything for that glimpse of a normal life with her.

[lipglossanon]

Crossing the Frame

Infected!Leon S. Kennedy and fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, one shot, horror, body horror, unwanted insemination, OC, mentions of blood/death/bodily harm, vomiting, reader called chief

not proofread; inspired by the Alien series; something before October—might add more later idk

title from Crossing the Frame by Coheed and Cambria

It’s sudden. One moment you’re empty, a void unto yourself. The next, your eyes are open, unseeing as your brain begins to think again, thoughts filling the crevices of your mind. 

You cough violently, curling onto your side, an homage to your fetal beginnings. Pressing a hand to your abdomen, a skittering fear runs down your spine like spider legs. 

Something isn’t right. 

Closing your eyes, you struggle to remember why you’re here. You were to help an agent… one who had been infected by the Plagas strain. Kennedy, you think. The president’s lapdog. 

Pain radiates through your pelvis and you gasp wetly. It needs out, you think. Followed immediately by, what needs out? What’s inside you? Bile rises in your throat. 

Weak as a newborn kitten, you raise up onto your knees. Turning your face away, you gag and cough, a mix of stringy bile and saliva spilling from your mouth. 

A headache throbs behind your right eye; slipping your glasses off, you cup the socket and gently rub your eyelid. It doesn’t ease the pain—but it doesn’t make it worse—so you give up and put your glasses back on. 

Finally looking around, you take in the mess of what was once the lab. Beakers and burners are overturned, unknown liquid spilling off the surface and onto the floor; papers are scattered about like someone just tossed them before leaving. Another searing cramp makes you double over even further, breasts pressing against the tops of your thighs, hands hugging your stomach as you cry out painfully. 

Once you can breathe without wanting to die, you ease back up, slowly climbing to your feet so you can find help. There’s no one left in the lab and the door’s opened halfway, showcasing an empty hallway as far as you can see. 

Shuffling steps outside halt your own progress—hip digging into a counter as you freeze in place. 

“Hello?” Your voice cracks and you have to clear your throat—the dry heaving from earlier making it sting. “Hello?!”

A rattling breath makes you duck behind the counter—unable to see—only able to hear the door being pressed fully open while those same footsteps shuffle inside. 

“Hello,” a voice whispers, “are you in here, Chief?”

You slowly arch your neck up to peek over the counter. An intern, Andy you recall, looks around the room, hand cupping his side where blood has stained through his lab coat. Pushing yourself up, you use the counter as a crutch in order to stand in place. 

“Thank god! You’re alive!” He smiles, hazel eyes tired and strained. 

“What happened?” You rasp, swallowing to smooth your vocal cords. “I think I have a concussion.”

“The subject escaped. Leon Kennedy,” the intern steps closer, wincing with the movement. “He was infected with—“

“Plagas, I remember that,” you gesture to his side. “What about this? Or why’s the room trashed? I think I’m—“

Infected. The word curdles on your tongue like spoiled milk. 

“I woke up already bleeding,” he moves his coat and shirt aside, showing off the padded gauze and tape keeping it bandaged. “I think I got cut from the window overlooking the observation room. It shattered when he broke out.”

You nod, short flashes of memories coming back to you.  It was early morning when they brought Kennedy in for observation. Dressed in only a hospital gown, his skin looked sallow and washed out. The bags under his eyes made the blue that much darker. His hair seemed to be the only thing that defied his poor health, looking sleek and shiny under the fluorescent lights. 

The examiner had the agent remove the upper half of his gown, letting everyone see the raw and irritated scar from the machine that supposedly destroyed the embryo in his chest. X-rays proved there were remnants clinging to his chest wall—the reason why he had been called in to your lab. 

Being the chief medical officer in charge, you had sat quietly in the audience chamber above the room—watching as the scientists and doctors argued and questioned Kennedy, who only had the scattered notes from his mission to really backup any of his claims. 

They injected him, you remember suddenly. He had reacted negatively, body jerking and twitching before he began to scream incoherently, voice raising in pitch until your vision wavered. The glass splintered and rained down on the room, slicing anything in its path.

The alarm began to blare and you locked eyes with what used to be Agent Kennedy, black washing out his sclera and dark veins overtaking his skin like twisting vines. 

“Are you okay?”

Shoulders jerking upward, you shake your head before looking back up into Andy’s drawn face. 

“Yeah, just trying to make it all make sense.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, clenching his teeth suddenly. “Fuck, I fixed myself up as well as I could, but I definitely need to get help.”

“Of course. Are we still under lockdown?”

“Uh huh,” he sucks in his top lip. “It’s why I came this way. I was hoping to find your keycard.”

In case you were dead rings as loud in the room as if he had spoken it. Reaching down, you hold up your lanyard. 

“Lucky for you, I didn’t lose it.”

You both smile even if it’s an empty consolation. 

“Do you need help walking?” You point to his side. 

“I’ll be alright as long as we don’t have to run.”

Both of you know if it comes to that, neither of you would be making it out alive. 

Slowly making your way out of the specimen room—why were you even in this room?!—the intern follows behind you, quiet and careful. The two offices you pass by are empty, not a pencil out of place. The hallway itself doesn’t look like anything is off. A blaring light by the exit’s the only thing to signify anything is awry. 

Leaving the safety of the hallway, you hold the door open for Andy, letting it fall shut once he’s past the threshold. 

“Do you know why I was in this section?” You turn to him, keeping pace instead of walking out in front. 

He shrugs, “Everyone kinda went their own way once he got out. I think someone said you needed to grab the data on the latest test batch?”

You pat your pockets and find a small thumb drive in your overcoat. 

“Okay…” 

You frown down at it, mind still entirely blank. 

“He—“ Andy cut himself off. 

“He what?”

“The subject followed after you. I don’t know if they stopped him or anything like that. I kinda passed out,” he gave you a bitter smile. “I guess at least I wasn’t outright killed.”

“So he killed people?”

Andy nodded, “We’ll pass a few colleagues. Rose and Dr. Kline. Others are too bad to guess.”

You feel a pang of sadness, “That’s awful.”

The intern doesn’t say anything, eyes cast down to the floor. You let the conversation go, splitting your attention between your surroundings and the young man walking next to you. Surprisingly, it’s an uneventful walk out of the research and development area. But once you meet the intersection between it and medical, everything changes. 

The door slides open with a low hiss and you freeze, the salty tang of copper wafting out. The stench of blood and god knows what dogs your footsteps as you guide Andy through the carnage littering the floor. 

“It’s so much worse than before,” he whispers. “It’s like he came back.”

Fear makes your legs weak but you press on, eyes darting around for any movement, ears straining for any odd sounds. The alarm system wails in the distance, amber emergency lights pulsing in time with the sound. You eventually pass by Dr. Kline and his assistant Rose, mutilated in ways that turn your stomach. Andy touches your arm and you push past the bodies, eyes eagerly seeking out the red EXIT sign attached to the stairwell door. 

You touch the handle and a searing bolt of agony rips through your abdomen, like something with a mouthful of teeth is shredding your uterus. It hurts so much you can’t even make any noise, collapsing onto your knees, hands wrapped around your middle like it will stave off the pain. 

“Chief?!”

Andy tries to kneel but groans, legs shaking as he rights himself, hand grasping your shoulder. 

“I can’t,” his voice breaks, “I can’t lift you, Chief. Please, stand up. We’re almost out.”

You open your mouth to reply and puke, bile rushing up from your stomach to stain the floor. Eyes watering, you dry heave for far longer than last time until your body has nothing left to give. 

“Please,” the young man whimpers, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

A shaky hand reaches up to pat the one he has in your shoulder, “I-I’m okay. I think.. I think I’m sick. I don’t know if it’s safe to even be around me.”

Standing up, he doesn’t pull away. 

“We both probably are,” he mumbles, eyes drifting to the door. “But we gotta try.”

You press a hand to your abdomen, “No, Andy. I think I’m—“

“A host.”

A new voice cuts in—low, humorous. You both turn, the young man beside you grabbing your bicep with an iron grip. It takes a second to spot who spoke. Eyes partially concealed by blood soaked fringe peek from around the corner, an off shoot hallway in the opposite direction of the emergency exit.

One hand with abnormally long fingers, creeps over the edge like a deformed spider. The nails look like sharp little talons, and what skin you can see is dark, dry and scaly. 

“He’s, he’s not—oh god, what is he?” Andy whispers, and you shake your head. 

“I don’t know.”

Kennedy laughs and it floods your body with chills. 

“I’ve evolved,” he speaks, voice normal in complete opposition to his looks. “She will be, too.”

Andy subtly tugs your arm and you both take a step back, eyes never wavering from the eerie stare from the creature in front of you. A chittering noise comes from Kennedy and his other hand joins the first, splaying wide against the wall. 

“It was so easy to make you a host,” he laughs again, eyes glittering. “And you didn’t even lose any blood.”

The pair of you make another shuffling step back before those dark eyes narrow. You snap your CAC off of your lanyard clasp and press it against the hand Andy’s using to grip your arm. 

“Take it,” you hiss under your breath. “Go first, get to the containment ward. If everything’s gone to shit, activate the evacuation code and seal yourself off from here.”

“What about—“

Tears drip from your eyes, “I’m contaminated. Please, Andy, just get out of here. I’ll try my best to buy you time.”

“Okay,” he lets out a wet sounding breath. “Okay, Chief. I-I’ll do what I can. Thank you.”

You nod and he finally lets go of you, the heat at your side slipping away. Listening to his shuffling steps, you hear the security pad beep, followed by the stairwell door swinging open. It closes with a soft snick, but you don’t turn away from the pair of eyes in front of you.  

“You knooow you can’t stop me,” that chittering noise again making you realize that’s his laugh. “But it’s sweet of you to give him a head start.”

The cramping in your abdomen is beginning to flair up again but you grit your teeth and take a half step back. You continue walking backwards until your back bumps the door. Hating having to lose sight of him, you turn your sights on the security pad. You make quick work of it, you pull the lab ID card from your pocket, slide it into the slot, and snap off the bottom. The pad blares red—ERROR repeating itself across the small screen. 

“Do you think that’ll stop me?”

He murmurs directly behind you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. 

You’re too scared to turn around. 

“Probably not, but it invokes a building wide security warning and shutdown,” voice trembling, you reply. “It also alerts the Agency that there’s been a breach.”

He hums, “Clever. Not that it matters.”

Those hands of his, basically scaly claws at this point, wrap their disjointed fingers across your waist and interlock—trapping you in place. The parasite in your body trashes wildly, cramps perforating your abdomen until you become only pain; your legs tremble, weight now held up by the monster’s hands—fear overriding the incessant will to live. 

“It needs out,” he croons, a strange clicking echoing behind you—like mandibles, you think almost deliriously. “Doesn’t it?”

Glancing down, you catch a segmented tail slipping away, tipped with a hardened exoskeleton that looks sharp enough to pierce. Gray begins to creep into your vision as your legs fully give out, Kennedy’s odd hands catching you underneath your breasts, pressing on your ribs so hard you feel the muscles shift.

You’re able to catch sight of his mutated face before passing out; too horrified to scream, you welcome the reprieve of inky darkness. 

[dollfacefantasy]

help okay i hope this isn't too soon but im back and i have a thirst. So basically ive been thinking about like di leon and where hes been gone on a mission for a week and when he finally comes home he has like paper work or like something on the computer and reader is just like sitting at his feet with her head in his lap while he works and she starts getting super impatient while hes on a work call and starts to act bratty and whine and stuff and then starts to suck him off and so when he hangs up he pulls her over his knee and punishes her and then they fuck. I was hoping you could put like daddy kink cuz you write it so good i love it and you can add whatever else you think fits. Hope this wasn't too much im sorry if it was.

heyyy :) so i have a fic with a kind of similar premise for leon and thirsts are usually just little blurbs to me, so i'm just gonna write part of this but thank you for the ask. i do love the idea of doing it while on the flip phone <3

leon kennedy x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, blowjob, daddy kink, sort of exhibitionism

The entire desk shakes as Leon's phone chimes with the notification that someone is trying to reach him. For such a small device, it sure had a lot of vibration power.

Normally, he'd just reach over and grab it. Flip open the small cellphone, scan the caller ID, and hold it to his ear with his obligatory "Kennedy speaking."

But right now, he hesitates. He hesitates because you're beneath his desk. You'd managed to tug his pants loose and worm your fingers around his length. Your hand strokes him slowly, moving up and down as you look up at him with those alluring eyes of yours.

He'd been away on a mission for a few weeks, and as expected, your ache for him had grown strong. It would be easy to just brush your hands off and send you away till he finished working at his desk, but he had missed you too. He found it sweet, your need to be attached to him after some time apart. The only thing worse than having to leave you for so long would watching those pretty eyes fill with the sting of rejection.

"Be good while daddy's on the phone," he says quietly, as if he already had the other person on the line, "If you get me in trouble, I promise you your ass is gonna get it tenfold."

You nod in a display of your obedience, as if he was a fool to question you at all.

With your small reassurance, he grabs his phone and whips it open. Chris Redfield. Ok, so at least there was a chance it wouldn't be something too serious.

"Hey, man," he says as he brings it to his ear.

From your place on the ground, you can hear the muffled sound of his friend's voice. It's of no concern to you though. You rest your cheek on his thigh while your eyes stay locked on his cock held between your digits. You stroke it up and down, watching the flushed appendage with adoration.

Above you, he mumbles "mhm's" and "oh yeah, for sure's.” You don’t pay much attention beyond those brief affirmations. All you can think is how bad you want it in your mouth. It just looks so good, and it's been too long since you've had it.

But you shouldn't, right? He told you to be good. But this would feel so good for both of you. It seems like a win-win from your perspective.

"Yeah, that's bullshit. I don't blame you I would've done the- fuck," Leon says, getting cut off by his own hissed expletive as your lips engulf the tip of his dick.

You hear a muffled response on the other end, but you don't look up to see your boyfriend's reaction. Instead, you work his shaft deeper into your mouth.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. Got a cramp in my leg. I get 'em bad after assignments," he mutters.

His hand comes to rest on the back of your head, so clearly, he wasn't too displeased with what you were doing down there.

You brace yourself on his thighs, pads of your fingers digging into the meat of his legs. Rising and falling, your head bobs. You coat the flushed skin with your saliva, letting it dribble from your mouth down to his balls.

His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he wrestles with the desire to moan. Poor Chris on the other side of this call. Not a word he said was taking root in Leon's brain. The short responses were even more half-hearted than before.

"I'm listening. Sorry, I was just... preoccupied when you called, y'know?" you hear him mumble.

You swirl your tongue over the ridge and pull off to lap at more of him. Your hand strokes what your mouth can't cover. You know all his favorite tricks, and you're putting each one to use right now.

Leon runs a hand through his hair, a bit of sweat beginning to break out across his forehead. His eyes flutter, and he closes them as if that would make it easier to stave off the impending explosion of ecstasy. A soft grunt comes from him, one he's hoping isn't loud enough to raise suspicion.

"What? Yeah, she's home right now... I don't know where she is. She's... doing something around here," he responds to Chris asking about you.

A laugh rumbles through the phone. Chris says something along the lines of "you're something else."

"What?" Leon defends, "I swear I'm listening I just-"

He has to stop talking then and there. If he kept going, his words would've morphed into one of the most humiliating whines heard by him, you, and Chris. He couldn't have that. When he recovers, his next words come rushing out.

"I just gotta call you back. Give me about an hour," he says, not waiting for a reply before clapping the phone shut.

His hips buck upwards, and both of his hands land on your head, making you take all of it. You gag a little, but he doesn't lighten up.

"No, no, baby. You wanted daddy so bad. You're gonna take all of me now. No whining," he chides through a clenched jaw.

Your eyes water. You tough it out though and let him fuck your throat till you feel that familiar pulse on your tongue. He lets go down your throat, spilling himself into the warmth of your mouth with a groan. His body slumps into the chair as he rides it out. Only when he's done does he finally let you go.

You pull back and recede onto your haunches, catching your breath. As air refills your lungs, things seem clearer. The moment of relief only lasts a short while though. Seconds later your being pulled up and slung across his lap.

A pout graces your lips as you look up at him.

"Ah ah. Don't look at me like that. What'd I tell you?" he says, already rubbing your ass in preparation for the spanking you're about to get.

"But you didn't get in trouble!" you protest.

"You didn't know that when you pulled that stunt though, so you still are," he teases before landing a firm swat on your ass.

The first of many to come.

[woso-story]

Pregnancy

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

Ingrid's pregnancy was a revelation that brought unparalleled joy to her and Mapi. From the moment they found out Ingrid was pregnant, their lives were awash with excitement, nervousness, and love. Mapi, in her typical fashion, vowed to take care of every single detail to make the pregnancy as smooth as possible.

---

It started with Ingrid’s cravings. At 2 a.m., she'd wake up craving churros and hot chocolate. Mapi, bleary-eyed but unwavering in her determination to keep Ingrid happy, would slip into sweats and head to their favorite late-night spot. “You know,” Ingrid said one night, watching Mapi bundle up, “I don’t need this churro. I just want it.”

“And I want to make sure you get it,” Mapi replied with a wink, planting a kiss on Ingrid's forehead before heading out.

Their fridge became a chaotic mix of pickles, mangoes, and other odd combinations. The team teased Ingrid mercilessly when she brought a jar of peanut butter and cucumbers to practice one day.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Ingrid said with a shrug as she munched contentedly.

---

Despite her growing belly, Ingrid insisted on attending training sessions. She scaled back to light workouts, sticking to stretches, yoga, and some ball drills. It gave her a sense of normalcy, a way to stay connected to the team and the sport she loved.

Mapi, however, was a different story. She hovered constantly, adjusting water bottles, fetching towels, and shooting glares at anyone who came too close during drills. “She’s pregnant, not made of glass,” Alexia teased one day, only to be met with Mapi’s signature scowl.

When Ingrid bent over to tie her shoelaces during practice, Mapi sprinted across the pitch. “You shouldn’t bend like that! Let me do it,” she insisted, dropping to her knees to tie Ingrid’s shoes.

“Maria, I’m fine!” Ingrid protested, half amused, half exasperated. “You’re making me feel like I’m 80.”

“You’re pregnant. That’s basically a license for me to spoil you,” Mapi countered, grinning up at her.

---

The rest of the team found endless entertainment in Mapi’s overprotectiveness.

“Mapi, can I breathe near Ingrid, or is that off-limits too?” Patri joked one day during a team lunch.

“You can breathe,” Mapi shot back, “just don’t breathe too hard.”

But beneath the jokes was an undercurrent of admiration. The team adored how Mapi doted on Ingrid and often stepped in to help. Aitana once surprised Ingrid with a homemade lasagna when she heard about her sudden aversion to cooking smells. And when Ingrid mentioned how her back was sore, Alexia gifted her a plush heating pad that quickly became her favorite.

The entire team had taken to calling Ingrid "Mama Engen" and frequently joked about how the baby was already part of the squad. Alexia even gifted the baby its first tiny Barça jersey with "Baby Engen-León" on the back. Ingrid teared up at the gesture, and Mapi made a vow to frame it when the baby outgrew it.

---

At home, Mapi was unstoppable. She installed baby-proof locks on cupboards, "Maria, the baby isn’t even here yet!” Ingrid laughed, researched prenatal massages, and even downloaded meditation apps to help Ingrid relax.

“It’s sweet, really,” Ingrid told Alexia during one of their chats. “But sometimes I just want to remind her that I’m pregnant, not dying.”

---

One evening, Ingrid came home to find Mapi assembling a crib in their living room. Tools were scattered everywhere, and she looked frazzled but determined.

“Babe, the baby won’t need a crib for months,” Ingrid said, sitting on the couch with a bemused smile.

“I know,” Mapi muttered, tightening a screw. “But I want everything to be perfect.”

Ingrid walked over, wrapping her arms around Mapi from behind. “It’s already perfect because it’s ours.”

---

The first ultrasound was a moment of pure magic. As they saw the tiny flutter of their baby’s heartbeat on the screen, Mapi’s eyes filled with tears.

“Can you believe it?” she whispered, clutching Ingrid’s hand.

Ingrid squeezed back, her own emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “We’re really doing this.”

---

Though the journey had its overwhelming moments, Ingrid wouldn’t have had it any other way. Mapi’s protectiveness, while occasionally exasperating, was a constant reminder of how much she was loved. And as they lay in bed one night, Mapi’s hand resting gently on Ingrid’s belly, Ingrid couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re going to be such a good mom,” she whispered.

“You too,” Mapi replied, pressing a kiss to Ingrid’s temple. “But for now, my job is to take care of both of you.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes affectionately. “You already do. And you’re pretty good at it. Just don’t drive me too crazy in the meantime.”

Mapi laughed, “Deal.”

And as they drifted off to sleep, dreams of their growing family filled the room, wrapping them in warmth and hope for the future.

[barleyo]

Love Machine. (Part Two)

Android! Leon Kennedy X Fem! Reader

A/N: Sorry for the wait! It took me a while to brainstorm ideas for this. Plus, I’ve been super busy lately! However, I have been trying to keep myself out of another hiatus, so, here I am with another fic! Hope you all enjoy, I love you all a whole bunch :)

Wordcount: 1.6K

Tags: Oral (m receiving), face fucking, rough sex, p in v, spit play, hair pulling, sex doll/android, slight degradation, kinda some objectification (?)

Leon became a permanent fixture in (Y/N)’s sex life. She had practically disregarded every other toy she had; none of the cute, little vibrators in her top drawer could do the job for her anymore. She needed something real– well, sort of real.

The longer she owned him, the more attached she got to him, and the less ashamed she became of having him in her possession. She even started to see him as more of a boyfriend, going as far as to keep him almost always on, allowing him to walk around her home freely. 

“Can I? I mean, I don’t know if it’ll do anything for you, but….” (Y/N) was already on her knees, sitting right between Leon’s legs while he sat on the plush couch’s cushion.

“Everything you do does something for me,” he quickly interrupted, running his hand over the cold metal of his belt buckle, a shining addition to the pants she had found for him soon after bringing him home. “Everything.”

Her hands flew up to replace his own. Using the pad of her thumb, she forked the belt open and unzipped his pants. His cock was already stiff and unconstrained, with no boxers to cover the length.

“Ah,” her lips parted slightly at the sight and her tongue darted out quickly to wet them. 

Leon wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it lazy strokes, watching as her eyes focused on the leaking head. “Hm? Look, it’s ready for you,” he said, a huff escaping his nose as he held back a chuckle.

She tried to lean forward to place a lick over the top, but he stopped her. His hand gripped her hair gently and forced her to look up at him. 

“Hey, I’ll guide you, yeah?”

(Y/N) nodded and felt him loosen his grip, but still keep her in place with his hand. Taking the other hand, he smeared the head of his cock over her lips, coating them in a thin sheen of his pre. Her tongue slipped out again, tasting the glossy saltiness, and keeping her tongue out for him.

“Oh, that’s cute, baby. Keep that tongue out for me.”

Leon tapped his heavy tip on her tongue, smiling inwardly at how she tried to curve her tongue to coerce the full length into her mouth. He complied and pushed her head down quickly. Her throat constricted around his cock for a moment before she adjusted. 

She looked at him through her eyelashes as her spit started to dribble down his length and down her chin. Her jaw already ached at how wide her mouth had been split to fit him, but she powered through, eyebrows drawing together and eyes pricking with tears. Pressing her head down one more time before letting her go, he groaned at the tight, warm, wet fluttering of her throat, desperate for air.

“Christ, Leon,” she said with a choked gasp, “didn’t know it’d be that rough.”

“Rough? (Y/N), you don’t even know what rough feels like, you big baby,” Leon said with a dry laugh, clearly trying to get a reaction out of her.

“Yes, I do, and that was it.” She rose up and sat over one of his thighs, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Couldn’t even breathe.”

“Well, if you really wanna have the air knocked outta you,” he teased, slightly moving his head and turning to show his dial the best he could. 

“Oh, hell no, you already wear me out enough as it is, Leon.”

“Aw, c’mon, I bet you’ll like it, if you try it.” He tilted his head to the side and offered her the dial again.

(Y/N) pursed her lips for a second while she thought and hovered her fingers over the dial. “Okay, but you have to at least try to be easy with me.” She bit the bullet and switched the dial to rough mode. 

“No promises.”

Leon’s eyes blanked out for a split second, and a red light flashed out from them as he rebooted. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and he only acted when she tried to call out to him.

“Leon–?”

“Been too easy on you, baby.” He pushed her off of his lap and onto the couch, trapping her under his weight. “You getting soft on me? Can’t handle it when ‘m a lil mean?”

“N–no, Leon,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes averted from his. His gaze felt stronger now, she could feel him piercing through her with every look.

“Don’t lie to me. You can’t even look me in my eyes, can you? Hey,” he called, gripping her chin and making him look at him again. “Look at me when I talk to you, you know better, hon.”

She tried to respond, but she couldn’t force herself to. Her mouth and eyes went dry. Leon sighed, his breath short and warm as he pulled her body down to the other end of the couch.

“If you won’t talk, I’ll use your mouth ‘til you have somethin’ to say.” He hovered over her face with his thighs on either side of her head. Without any hesitation, Leon bottomed out in her throat, feeling the back of it. It was smooth and warm against his shaft, and the squeezing of (Y/N)’s choked gurgling only prompted him to fuck it harder. “Oh,” he chuckled darkly, “there, sweet girl. Got such a nice mouth, feels so good wrapped around me. Could use you like this forever.”

She reached up and grabbed onto the thick muscle of one of his thighs, bracing herself for his pace. He pulled out after a moment, moving down so that he had her trapped still, legs caging around her hips. She whined and coughed a bit, grimacing at Leon’s smirking face. 

“All that cryin’ n’ moaning needs to stop, baby. Are y’ready to be a big, tough girl f’me?”

(Y/N)’s voice was croaking and wheezy as she spoke. “Yes, I can do it– can be good for you,” she said.

“Good.” Leon was already pulling her pants off of her, tossing them far over his shoulder. He placed her legs over his waist and slotted himself between them. He let his thumb trail over her clit, just barely touching it. His other hand gripped and held her hips down while she tried to inch them up into his whispering touches. “No, stop all that. I’ll give you what I think you need.” He added a bit more pressure, enough to have the full pad of his thumb pressed against the little bud.

“Please, I need more. Can you fuck me, please?” She impatiently wrapped her legs closely around him, forcing his hand away from her cunt, but pressing his cock right against it. 

“You’re so needy, baby,” he cooed, giving into her and rutting his tip through her slick. “How bad do you want it, huh? How bad?”

“S–so bad, fuck, c’mon, don’t tease me.”

He pressed his lips against hers roughly, gnashing their teeth together and slipping his tongue over hers. There was no softness in the exchange, only rough, red-hot pleasure. Leon finally pushed inside of her. She gasped at the intrusion, despite her begging, the feeling of him pushing into her cunt was unexpected. He fucked into her mouth with his tongue while he started to burry himself deep inside of her. 

Pulling away from the kiss, Leon was slowly pulling in and out of (Y/N)’s pussy, observing how her face contorted. “Open, (Y/N).” 

Her eyebrows were furrowed a bit, a reaction to the sudden sharp thrust from him. She parted her lips and let a moan bubble in her chest when she felt his spit hit her tongue. 

“Swallow. Swallow, dirty girl,” he urged, eyes glued to her mouth as he watched her hold it in her mouth greedily. She swallowed it and opened her mouth again to him, showing him the proof. “Good girl, you listen to me so well when you want to,” he said, caressing her face softly. 

She nodded and bit down on her bottom lip. A soft, content sigh left her. Leon was being relatively gentle with her, until he felt a sharp squeeze from her walls.

“How’re you already close? I haven’t hardly done anything to you,” Leon said, trailing his hands down to her waist. He held onto her sides, hard enough to bruise later, and moved her body down on his cock, sliding her up and down like a toy. “If you’re gonna cum, you might as well cum nice n’ hard, yeah?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, and instead scooped her into his arms briefly while he laid on his back. She sat, straddling him, waiting for him to move her body. She took possession of his shoulder, digging her nails into the skin while he brought her hips up and down, bringing her to the very tip of his cock, and slamming her back to the base with brutal strokes. 

She couldn’t last very long, soon throwing her head over his shoulder and gripping his blonde hair in her fingers, pulling at his scalp tightly with a deep, guttural moan. Thin globs of her arousal dripped down his cock and onto the couch, leaving wet spots over the fabric. 

“Oh, that was a good one,” he said, feeling his cock kick in her, prodding at her g-spot and overstimulating her. He shifted his hips upward in a ruthless strike against her tender, abused pussy. 

“Fuck, Leon, too much,” she mewled, leaning back to look at him again. Her face was flushed and sweaty, eyes heavy and lidded from her orgasm. 

“No such thing,” he said, pushing her down on the couch again, holding her weak arms above her head and rutting into her. “This time, I wanna see your cute lil’ face when you cum. Can you do that for me? Hm, baby?”

[vampsickle]

never sated. ☆ ( re4 ) leon s. kennedy

☆ tags - absolutely no plot !! just filth! rough rough sex, leon can’t get enough :(, petnames, dirty talk, reader is afab but no use of gendered prns, he cums inside!

☆ wc - 731.

☆ a/n - omg hii i’m so so sorry for taking like 10 years! school is awful and so busy, but i keep seeing trailers n leaks of the remake and i rly rly wanted to write something for him. re4 leon is forever&lt;3

You feel absolutely full. Leon’s cock had sunk deep inside you, impossibly deep, cockhead kissing your cervix. It’s amazing how he manages to get pussy drunk off of you, especially before he has to go away, desperately chasing his own pleasure through you. You writhe underneath him, loud cries, pleas for him to slow down, but they fall on deaf ears.

“Oh— Fuck, you’re gonna fucking — make me cum, shit—!” He’s stumbling over his words, his pace becoming erratic, instead of loud sighs and soft grunts, he’s now whining, moaning at how you milk him. His desperation for you just spurs you on as well, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Baby blue eyes shoot open when you happen to release all over him, that opaque substance staining his stomach, and he feels a surge of pride coursing through him. Leon cums shortly after, balls pressed right up against your ass, making sure all of it spills deep inside you.

You hardly get a moment of reprieve before his hips slowly move once more, and you cry weakly, attempting to push him away. Grabbing ahold of your wrists, he practically falls forward, but he keeps himself upright. His hands are planted firmly next to your head and his kisses are sloppy and rough.

“Baby.. Want you to make me cum, one more time, okay..? Just one more time..” What a bold-faced lie. He always promises that it’s just one more time, but he won’t stop until you’re on the verge of unconsciousness, and you thanked your past self for taking birth control; as you were positive he would’ve fucked a baby into you by now.

His muscles tremble with sensitivity, cock twitching sporadically inside you, kissed raw lips fall open as he begins to thrust once more.

“Fuuuuck … God, this fuckin’ pussy.. Mm…” he’s talking to himself now, well, your pussy as well, coarse pad of his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. It’s electrifying, and your hips buck upwards, a sharp cry being pulled out of you. In no time at all his thrusts are once again rough and fast, jackhammering into you, the tip of his cock brutalizing your cervix.

Leon whispers sweet praise into your mouth, anxious to fill you up again, the sloshing and slapping causes his ears to twitch and redden. You can feel all the veins on his cock, how they drag against your warm walls, and you can’t help the way you tighten around him.

His tongue plunges inside your mouth, nearly reaching the back of your throat, rubbing the flat of it against your muscle as well. Leon’s delirious, he has to be, and his stamina is incredible. You can already feel the soreness creeping it’s way into your poor muscles.

Leon suddenly stills his movement, sitting up and now your knees are kissing your ears, eyes widening in utter shock. He can’t help but stop and stare at your puffy pussy, so swollen, all because of him. Moaning at the sight, he maneuvers himself so his elbows are now digging deep into the mattress right alongside your head, and his cock sinks back inside you. You scream, tears cascading down flushed cheeks, and he swells with pride.

“‘M gonna fuck you until you’re full, baby.. So good.. So fucking good…” The bulge on your stomach is apparent, your tummy flexes, and Leon chokes on a groan. A satisfied moan falls from his mouth, throwing his head back, and his balls tighten again.

You’re spasming around his length again as he cums deep, deep, deep inside you. It’s a sensual mix of both your fluids, and Leon keeps himself inside you as long as possible.

His cum is so thick, and so warm. It almost feels comforting. He finally finds the strength to pull out, and you both cry softly at the loss of contact, but he cleans you up and makes sure to get you water.

Moonlight floods the bedroom, and Leon gently caresses your thigh, pressing feather light kisses to the back of your neck. It’s been about two hours now, and you startle at the sudden hardness pressing up against your behind.

“Sorry, baby… Can we go one more time? Please?” You should say no, you need to sleep, and so does he — but … You’re prepared for this night to be long and restless.

[comatosebunny09]

firestarter [ pt. 2 ] | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, erotica, mild angst warning(s): mutual pining, explicit language, female reader, pet names summary: “you’re a shitty liar, you know that?” leon rasps against your lips. etches a sluggish triangle between your mouth and eyes, his breath fanning across your cheeks, turning your brain into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. the hand at your throat doesn’t help matters, squeezing with enough pressure to turn your lungs to cinder. music inspo: champagne cool - jackson wang spin bout u - drake & 21 savage notes: part 2 to this. thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️

It’s a rhythmic tapping that draws you from your catnap.

Knocking that hauls you from the softness of your couch, the news channel droning in the background as you blink away the fog. The floor is icy beneath your feet while you pad over to your front door to answer it. Not really thinking, forgoing the peephole to throw it open.

Sunlight filters in, blinding like a flashbang. You squint against its brilliance, your vision slowly wading through shapes and colors. And if you weren’t already awake before …

“Hey, stranger,” Leon Kennedy drawls from the threshold, tone brassy as if he’s just awoken himself. You feel it in your chest. Curling around you like smoke, weakening your knees.

He bears a youthful smile while he leans against the doorframe in an easy slouch, gazing down at you with such fondness. Clad in grey joggers and a black tee that does little to disguise the power of his body, a slither of abdomen peeking from beneath.

Your lids flutter, dispelling the final vestiges of sleep. Mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, throat growing dry. Your arms fall listlessly at your sides, your voice turning to ash.

He takes your silence as a welcome. Wears a somewhat guilty expression as he holds up a small, white bag, condensation beading inside. “Brought Chinese,” Leon offers, shaking it for good measure. A peace offering more than a greeting. Surprisingly good-natured, considering you’ve dodged him since you returned from your mission a week ago.

You step aside, completely on autopilot. Still dumbfounded as your partner maneuvers past you into your apartment, carrying the scent of ocean waves and teakwood with him. You flinch at the chaste kiss he presses to your cheek. At the graze of a callused palm on your hip, searing you through the fabric of your sweats.

Gaze fixated on the rail in front of your apartment, your lips twitch into a sardonic smile. Least he has food, you inwardly snort, slowly closing the door. Wait for a few beats with your head bowed and your hands frozen on the lock, preparing yourself for the unavoidable.

You square your shoulders with a sigh, trailing after his shadow towards your living room.

But, it’s surprisingly easy to fall back into tempo with him.

With you both sinking into the couch, your legs stretched across his lap. Large hands rubbing your feet, a ghostly smile rounding his lips when you giggle and squeal as he tickles them every so often. Feel at ease when he kneads the muscles of your calves. A softness to his ministrations like he’s missed this—missed you. And you catch him watching you in your peripheral as if he wants to say something. Yet, neither of you wants to break up the monotony of the moment.  

Takeout lies partially eaten on your coffee table. Drinks half full. The T.V. flickers mindlessly over your bodies, the only source of light permeating the darkness of your home. Your attention is elsewhere, dispersed amongst the clouds as you chew on your lip.

Sure, you’re still a little rigid. Still guarded after you bared your thoughts. The dreams haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve grown in intensity. More vivid, painted across the walls of your hallway, floors, bedroom, the fucking bathroom …

Warmth inhabits your cheeks at the memory. You slap a hand over your face, a muted groan burbling from your throat. You’ve had nothing but time to relive your fantasies, having taken a week off following your reconnaissance mission. Sparingly spoke to the object of your desires, your texts and phone calls brief. Made room for good mornings and good nights, fearing anything longer would result in your partner breaking off whatever this is.   

His hand sears your wrist, slowly drawing it away from your mouth. “You alright?” Leon cautions, wariness dwelling in his timbre.

You nod with your stomach in knots and your heart on your sleeves. Try to ignore how his grip on you lingers and his thumb skates placatingly over the veins of your hand.

“Hey,” he husks. Insistent as ever, tugging you closer toward the safety of his body. An arm slings around your shoulders, nimble fingers creeping under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. “Hey, talk to me.” His proximity makes your head spin. The calmness of his voice squeezes something in your chest. You’re finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. And you’re looking at his mouth without thinking, entranced by how the delicate flesh trembles and parts with each breath. “What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head dismissively, averting your gaze to the side. “N-nothing.” A lie as obvious as the palpable tension between you, and he fucking knows it. He seizes your jaw again, leveling his steely blues with you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” No. Not really. Because all you’ve wanted to do since he walked through your door was peel his shirt from his shoulders and sit on his—

His chuckle, husky and rich like chocolate, breaks through the swell of lustful thoughts. “You’re a shitty liar, you know that?” Leon says, etching a sluggish triangle between your mouth and hooded lids.

[reve-writes]

—if i'm dead to you [1]; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 1,5k words. ʚ chapter two. | you betrayed him before, resulting in a failed mission and a preventable death. years later, you cross paths. ʚ angst. profanity; violence; non-canon lore; reader murdered someone; very loosely set in re4. ʚ a/n this will have a second part! i don't write for leon a lot so he may be ooc, sorry for that. i just wanted to write some lovers-to-enemies angst while being knee-deep in leon brainrot.

"I should kill you," he theeatens. You feel the hard muzzle of his pistol on the small of your back, almost feel the coldness of the metal against your skin despite the jacket you're clad in.

God, you missed him.

"Leon," you greet casually, even as you put your hands up in a surrendering manner. He presses the gun harder—a warning. One you're choosing to ignore. "Come on, puppy. We both know you're not going to shoot."

His voice is cold when he responds, venom lacing every syllable. "Do we?"

Your heart clenches, but then again you deserve every bit of anger he throws your way. His icy tone feels so much worse than any wound you've ever had in your line of work. Each words lodging deep inside you, like a bullet without an exit wound.

“Leon,” you try again. His name flows smoothly out of your lips as if you've been saying it your whole life. Even now, as he's threatening you, your body seems to remember him anyway—gravitate towards the pads of his fingers, the warmth of his torso. You thrum with the yearning to feel his skin on yours again as much as you don't deserve to. “We can talk like civilised people.”

“We're past civilised for a while now,” he retorts, but the pressure loosens. You take your chances and slowly spin on your heels to face him. A mistake on your part. Your heart swells at the sight of him. His blond hair, sweeping over his ears. The blue in his eyes, hardened from years of experience as an agent. The set of his jaw. Your hand twitches with the desire to touch him, feel his lips against yours once more.

What do you even say?

Apologising seems like a callous move. You didn't bother to apologise five years ago. It changes nothing even if you do apologise now, because you'll do it all over again. Instead of spinning more lies or desperately trying to bury the elephant in the room, you opt for the truth.

“I'm glad you're well, Leon.” You swallow, trying to clear the scratchiness of your voice from the lump forming in your throat.

His brows furrow. His gun is still aimed towards you, but his hand is trembling ever-so-slightly. “Don't do that.”

Your head tilts to the side. “Do what?”

“Try and act as if you're not the biggest fucking liar I've ever met,” he snarls. “Fuck this. Fuck you.”

It stings. Every word acts like lacerations on the fickle little thing beating inside your chest. Your hand shakes, but you flash him a tight-lipped smile instead.

“I suppose I deserve that.”

“And a whole lot more.”

A beat passes, and then two. It doesn't seem like he's going to serve you your retribution.

You're taking in his appearance and he looks at you, so many thoughts racing in his head. Too many to pick out just one. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the roiling anger in his veins—to keep the red at the edge of his vision instead of blinding him.

“What are you doing here?”

“You know I can't answer that.”

“The least you can do is answer my questions.” He grits his teeth. “Then again, whatever you say is most likely a lie.”

“I'll take my leave, then.” I'm glad I get to see you.

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Goddammit, ___. Are you really not going to say anything?”

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. “We don't need to do this. I'll stay out of your way.”

“What about Tracy?”

The name brings up a clear picture. Pig-tailed brunette. Fifteen years old. Freckles dusting her cheeks. The gap between her front teeth when she smiled.

Tracy Miller.

That was the name printed on your mission file five years ago. Your mission partner was Leon Kennedy. Both of you were newbies in the field, recently recruited after what went down in Raccoon City. It was supposed to be an easy mission, anyway. You were starry-eyed, excited to spend a little more time with him, giddy for experience in this godforsaken field.

Your mission was simple. The fifteen-year-old prodigy created a strain of virus. You were supposed to bring her in for questioning. They were planning to confiscate the research.

Until you were approached by your current employer—a group of self-righteous assholes whom you've caught the attention of. You were presented with an offer, but it was never much of a choice. Kill Tracy, get rid of the possibility that the virus could ever soread. You would never say yes. Never in a million years would you have aimed your gun at a helpless child.

Until they mentioned him.

It didn't take much for you to throw your morals to the backburner when it came to Leon. He was their leverage. If you didn't work for them and dispose of Tracy, then he would die. Their words over the static of your phone are the start of this nightmare.

How sure are you that you can protect him from us?

The name Tracy brings up an image. A loud ringing in your ears. The thud of her body hitting the ground. The click of your gun as it fell to the floor, a bullet missing from its magazine, lodged in the girl's skull.

You steel yourself, echoing empty words you don't quite believe in. “I did what needed to be done.”

You walked away from him. Your shoes knocking against the docks of the lake. As soon as he's out of sight, your knees buckle and you fall. Blinking your eyes, you realise that you're crying.

You don't have time for this.

Not in the middle of an infected village where its residents can appear anytime, hurling an axe at your skull or brandishing a pitchfork, fully intending to kill. There's a mission to accomplish.

Dammit.

You're filled with contradictions. Even as you curse to yourself, standing in front of him like a deer caught in the headlights, there's a part of you that lights up when you bump into him again. It overshadows the rational part—the one that dreads another confrontation, risking the exchange of words as sharp as daggers into each other's hearts.

He immediately levels his handgun at your chest. You drop yours.

“Shit. I didn't know you were here, Leon.” This is one truth that you can offer to him.

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

You sigh, spotting a hostile in your periphery ready to lob a machete at you. “Duck.”

Even if you're the one who cried wolf, the one who once served a lie so grave on a platter without batting an eye, his body responds, immediately falling to a crouch before he can even think about it. It's how the two of you operate in Raccoon City and the countless missions that follow after that. Complete trust. That's why your betrayal feels like a thousand cuts to him.

You curse under your breath, side-stepping the machete. You swoop down for your dropped gun, shooting the infected resident three times before he falls to the ground. Your gunshot is loud, drawing everyone and their mothers out of their houses.

“Great,” Leon complains under his breath.

It's a dance you remember. The way your body so naturally presses up against him to cover each other's backs. The familiar little commands the two of you exchange as you take down enemy after enemy.

“She's just eating my bullets!” He quips, dropping an empty magazine out with one hand, the other already pulling out a new one out to reload. “Shit.”

You chuckle. Suddenly, you're back in Raccoon City again. Two naive twenty-something-year-olds keeping each other alive. Leon and his quirky comments. You and your light-hearted laughs.

The last shot rings and the two of you let out a relieved sigh.

“Great work,” he says before he can stop himself, falling into old habits.

You smile—that million dollar smile that does unhealthy things to his heart. Do it again. A voice in his head says. He frowns, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to shake off the stupor that remains after the fight.

Tracy Miller. He'll never forget the day he failed the young girl. The day you broke his trust. He swears he hates you. He wants you dead for what you did.

“You're not half bad yourself, Kennedy,” you answer.

He turns around, going to sow his rewards after all the shooting. “Stay out of my way. I won't hesitate the next time.”

The coldness returns to him. You tighten your jacket as if it can help shield you from the chill, but this is a small price you have to pay for his life. You prefer to have him absolutely loathe you than buried dead six feet underground.

You wince, walking away. “Take care, puppy.”

The nickname slips out of you and his step falters for a second. You notice—you notice every fucking thing he does bevause his presence alone heightens all your senses.

It gives you hope, a small one—one you don't deserve. Maybe. Just maybe. He'll forgive you someday.

[ ]