#but I’m only here for Leon tonight

[colesabi]

I know it’s par for the course for RE, but the dialogue is so cheesy omg. Like Chris and Claire’s back and forth after the first outbreak at Alcatraz is so stilted and awkward, I’m literally laughing so loudly at it.

[tojicide]

SNIPER, SNIPER! ☆ LEON KENNEDY

summary. in leon’s line of work as a contract killer, weaknesses weren’t an option. luckily, he’d eliminated his… all except for one.

warnings. fem!reader. au. nsfw, smut, fluff. hitman!leon, ex!leon, jealous!leon, re4!leon intended. discussion of murder, guns, bullets, etc. a loooot of blissful ignorance. porn with some plot. pet names. argument. oral sex (f!receiving), face sitting, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie. wc. 5.3k

note. i tend to fuck up a nice “ex who is a raging munch” fic or two saurrrr this is basically my staple now :3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Leon isn’t sure why he’s here.

He hasn’t ever bid on a target as sought after as the one that he has now acquired. The target was only described as someone who simply ‘knows too much’ about something they shouldn’t. Vague, he thinks, especially because they remained nameless, genderless, and description-less otherwise. It was odd, for sure, but it was the highest contract that he had ever come by.

As a matter of fact, he’s positive that it’s the highest contract that anyone in his position has ever seen, let alone signed. He’s sure that he’s ruffled a bit of feathers by taking on the job, especially considering that he was still considered fresh meat among the other hitmen that he was distantly familiar with.

Leon preferred to stay out of the unusual politics that came with the underground world, and that meant taking on the jobs that no one deemed urgent enough to complete.

(Plenty of drug dealers, a few sketchy nightclub owners, and an awful bunch of politicians who he is 99% sure put the bounty on their own heads to avoid the scandal that was unearthed about each of them no less than two weeks after they were found with bullets in their heads. He preferred those hits. All men, all guilty of something.)

Nevertheless, he finds himself here, perched on the rooftop of an upscale bar with his sniper rifle angled over the ledge. His scope was perfectly aligned with the entrance of the night club across the street, his right eye narrowed while the other was completely shut.

He sighs, tapping onto his earpiece to communicate with his teammate that was a few buildings over. Alexander.

(Alexander was a tech-nut. He was responsible for ensuring that the coast was clear, that there weren’t an abundance of cops in the area, and that security cameras of the establishment were looped continually in order to ensure that no one could suspect anything more than someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.)

“Reread the target description that was left for me,” Leon quietly commands.

“Aaand what’s the magic word?”

He heavily sighs. For a job like this, he figured that working alone would be the best option, but with the more he learned, the more experience he gained, the people he met—he was proven wrong. A team works more efficiently than a single person, even if the other half of his current team was a bit… annoying.

“Don’t piss me off,” he huffs, shaking his head as he closes one eye to look through the scope again.

Leon can practically hear Alexander’s grin on the other end of the line as he speaks. “Alright, man, jeez. Your g-string must be a bit too tight tonight, but that’s alright, I’m in no place to judge you.”

Before the blonde can even react to that unsettling quip, Alexander continues speaking, only this time, he does what Leon asks of him. “Bounty, bounty, bounty… where is the darn thing? Oh yes, here it is. Okay, it says that the target will be wearing a blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks tonight…. and that’s it.”

Leon hums, mulling over the very few words that were left for him by the person who had posted the contract in the first place. He’d never killed someone based on the description of an outfit alone,  but then again, he’s never gotten paid this much for sending a bullet through a random guy’s brain. He’ll take it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, turning off his ear piece to drown out the voice of the male on the other end.

It feels like hours pass by in which all he does is stare at the entrance, watching as each attendee leaves the establishment periodically. Each time he saw the color red, he’d perk up, only to find that they were wearing jeans, or they were wearing a white blazer, which only left him feeling more annoyed as time went on.

And then, the door opens. He can practically feel the air flee his lungs as he taps onto his earpiece out of instinct. A blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks.

“Ooh. Pretty. We guessed wrong, didn’t we?” Alexander speaks through the earpiece, which causes Leon to raise a brow.

“What’re you…” his voice trails. His blood runs cold, his palms begin to sweat, and his eyes blow wide. “Holy… fuck.”

“I know right? Not only is she a woman, but she’s miiiighty fine,” his teammate speaks, his voice oddly humorous for the given situation. A moment of silence passes, and Alexander continues to talk, but he can’t hear a damn word.

Leon freezes like a deer in headlights as he watches you emerge from the dim nightclub with a man’s arm slung around your shoulder, though that hardly taints how angelic you look tonight.

Your hair frames your face so beautifully, so soft and feminine. The tip of your nose was flushed given the crisp night air that you’ve just stepped into, your smile was side and toothy as you walked beside a man that he didn’t recognize.

You’re gorgeous, is all he can think right now. It’s the first time he’s seen you since the moment the two of you broke up six months ago, and you look even prettier than when he pictured you each night to fall asleep. He dreamt of you often, but his lovesick mind was no match for imagining the beauty that you possess.

Suddenly, Alexander’s voice pierced through his haze, bringing him back to the current scene. “Earth to Leon? I get it man, she’s pretty, very much so. I’d hit that too if she wasn’t gonna die in like… two secs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he hisses, his voice sounding just as venomous as he’d intended it to. “You aren’t going to lay a damn finger on her.”

“Woah, buddy. Big talk from the guy with a sniper aimed at her head.”

That is the moment in which everything clicks in the worst way imaginable.

It’s you. His target, the person who knows too much, the one who is supposed to die tonight—it’s you.

And then, he becomes acutely aware of the lines that are obstructing his view of you. His scope. The red dot in the center placed strategically on your temple, the bullet meant just for you waiting for a simple pull of a trigger.

Leon shudders, picking his head up. No. Absolutely not. Completing his task was not even a thought in his mind anymore, not if the target was you. His beautiful, sweet girl.

But he couldn’t leave the scene unscathed. It would raise suspicion, possibly even tie him to you in a way that you didn’t need. If he didn’t fulfill the obligation in some way, someone else would. He’d broken up with you to save you from all of this, and now, he’d unknowingly come here to make you familiar with his lifestyle in the worst way possible.

You were walking away, and it’s then that his trained eyes fall onto the man who has his arm draped over your shoulder in the way he used to all those months ago. His heart aches at the mere sight of you looking so happy in the company of another, but it gives him an idea.

Leon looks through the scope again, and within seconds, a loud gunshot rings through the air in the form of a thundering pop.

His jaw tenses as he hears screaming. They aren’t your screams though, because you’re not hit. They’re coming from the man you were with, because Leon has just lightly grazed his arm with a bullet.

He wasn’t insane. He wasn’t going to be killing anyone tonight, even if he desperately wanted to kick the living shit out of the man who is so close to you.

Well… was close to you. He isn’t anymore. Your date is writing on the ground all because of a flesh wound, and you’re standing above him with the most confused and concerned look on your face.

Leon can’t help but think that the man has no regard for you and your safety. For all this mystery man knows, more shots could be coming, and instead of trying to protect you, he’s rolling around on the concrete like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Such a man baby.

“What’re you waiting for? Holy fuck, uh… you still have the shot. Take the shot—”

Leon pulls the earpiece away, turning it off before she shoves it into his back pocket. He didn’t need to be scolded by anyone, let alone someone as useless as his teammate. He’d beat him bloody for how he had spoken about you if he weren’t already packing up his equipment to head over to your place.

He needs to check on you, first and foremost. He also needs to explain himself which was… going to be no easy feat, he supposes.

You don’t find your way home until about an hour later, keys jumbling about as you push it into the slot, twisting it with a tired hand.

To be shot at was not on your agenda for tonight, but being berated by your date for not reacting quick enough to help him evade a bullet you had no knowledge of was certainly not how you wanted to end your night either.

Annoyed, exhausted, and frustrated, you step into your apartment. When you begin to shrug off your coat, your body tenses. No. Fucking. Way.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, your voice rising in octave.

Leon stands from your couch, approaching you with his hands in the air, attempting to show you that he hadn’t come with malice. You knew he hadn't, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him.

“Baby, it’s just me,” he says without thinking, the pet name slipping out before he could have a say in the matter.

“Yeah, I know it’s just you, that’s the problem!” you continue, hanging your coat up on the rack along with your purse. “Are you out of your damn mind? I—”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “I am out of my mind, and you must be out of yours for still keeping your spare key under your doormat. I told you to move it years ago.”

Your brows knit together. “You little— you know what? I’m not even going to entertain that. How about this? You leave, and we forget this happened, yeah?”

“Can’t do that,” he tells you with a shrug, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I need to talk to you.”

“Don’t do this, Leon, not tonight,” you huff, pinching your nose bridge. “I’m not in the mood, alright? I was—”

“Shot at?” he finishes your sentence. He immediately regrets it, pressing his lips into a line to keep himself from saying anything else.

Your demeanor falters at that. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing as you look at him from where he stands across the room. “How do you know that?”

He takes a moment to answer, his mouth opening without any words coming out. It spikes your frustration, so you speak again. “Damn it, Leon, how do you know that?”

Leon holds his hands up again, pleading his defense before he criminalizes himself entirely. “I was the one behind the gun, but it’s not what you think—”

Your jaw drops. “Not what I think? Not what I think? You tried to kill me!”

He shakes his head, his expression falling. “I didn’t, baby. I swear. Just let me explain, and—”

“You tried to shoot me in the damn neck!” you continue, your hand dramatically clasping into the side of your throat.

Leon closes his eyes for a moment, internally bracing himself for your outburst that he absolutely deserves. He opens them again, simply watching as you spew insults his way. He takes them without any hint of irritation.

“What the hell, Leon? Is that what you do now? You stalk your ex-girlfriend and try to kill her? Not only that, you missed. You missed! That’s almost fucking humorous, because how can you try to do something like that and then miss!”

Leon sighs, waiting for a moment to see if you try to continue, and when you don’t, he speaks instead. “I aimed for his arm, not your neck, or anywhere else that would endanger you—”

“Yeah, and you almost blew his arm off!” You’re more than aware that the statement was dramatic, but you don’t need to have any sense right now.

“It was a flesh wound, he’ll be just fine,” he tells you before he continues with what he was saying before. “And I wasn’t stalking you. Not knowingly, anyway. I would never hurt you. Not ever. Your date was just… collateral. I had no choice.”

He hopes that you don’t ask any more questions about that, because he won’t have any answers for you. It was for the better. All you knew was that his job wasn’t legal. It couldn’t have been, not with the copious amounts of money that rolled in while he hardly worked for half of the month.

The less you knew about what his line of work entailed, the safer you were. The further away you were from him, the safer you were. However, those last words now ring hollow.

“Look…” he whispers, taking a step towards you despite his brain screaming at him to leave. He couldn’t. Not when he was the only one who knew of your compromised position. “I know that much has changed between us. It’s my fault, I know it, but I can’t tell you anything more about my job, I just need you to—”

You need answers that you won’t be getting, and that sentiment alone makes you furious. When he gets too close, your hand moves to the leather harness that he has strapped around his broad chest, pulling a sharp-bladed knife from its sleeve. His eyes widen as you hold the blade up to him, his hands shooting up into the air yet again.

“You remember where I put my spare key, I remember where you keep your spare knife,” you taunt, the two of you standing so close now that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Guess we haven’t changed as much as you think.”

He huffs as the cool blade grazes his clothed chest, the metal so close that it nearly pierces his skin. Even then, you ensure that it doesn’t. It’s almost touching how you press such a sharp object to his heart of all places, he thinks.

Your situation is far more complicated than the both of you can handle right now. You have unresolved issues with each other, and that alone must be addressed before you can even begin to scratch the surface of the threats that now face the two of you.

“I still think you’re sexy when you’re mean to me,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. “That hasn’t changed either.”

Was it the time for his flirtatious performance? Certainly not, but you were putting on a little performance of your own just the same.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

Leon shakes his head, his eyes narrowing just as yours did. “Disgusting? Oh, don’t romance me.”

“I’m not romancing you,” you huff with an eye roll. Your grip on the knife only tightens, but you have no real intention of using it. “I’m threatening you.”

He hardly finds you to be threatening. He’d liken you to an angry cat, but he wouldn’t dare voice that out loud. He’s letting you have your moment, truth be told. “Mm, even better.”

His calloused hand moves to shadow yours, slowly lowering the knife that begged to pierce his pale skin. You let him, which only gives him more incentive to pull it away from your grasp entirely.

He tucks the knife back into his sheath, moving to unbuckle the harness entirely. “Now. Tell me, who was that guy?”

A random guy you met on Tinder. “My future husband.”

You’re just trying to get under his skin now, and judging by the look on his face, it’s working. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, taking note of that smug grin that stretches over your lips.

He really just wants to fuck it right off you, but he doesn’t make that known. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah?” he asks, tilting his head. “You gonna let him put a ring on that pretty finger of yours?”

No, you absolutely were not, but you’re enjoying this game. It’s what he deserves after scaring the shit out of you tonight. “Yeah, I am. Thinking about some baby names too, just for safekeeping.”

Leon doesn’t like the thought that you’ve just put in his head, not one bit. His hand finds your left one, bringing it up to his lips as he presses a kiss on your ring finger. “Huh. That’s what you want?”

You tilt your head, noticing how his lips linger on your hand for a moment too long. “You know what I don’t want? To be shot at.”

He hums, giving you a mocking frown. Of course he feels bad about that, but… you both know he hadn’t truly shot at you. Around you, yes, but not at you. His large hands find your waist, his fingers grasping onto the fabric of your shirt and slowly but surely, you find yourself being backed towards your couch.

“Answer my question,” he whispers, his voice now possessing a rasp that it didn’t have before.

You huff, willingly sitting on your couch, even though you’re doing your best to front as though you’re totally disinterested. “Why should I?”

He shrugs, his lips tugging down as he tilts his head. You watch with blown eyes as he kneels in front of you, his palms gliding over your thighs.

“‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him quite intently as his fingers move to the button of your slacks. You shouldn’t be turned on, but you absolutely are, and the damp fabric of your panties that he’s about to see conveys that pretty well.

“Give me what?” you ask, grinning slightly.

“A ring, a baby… both, neither,” he replies, his fingers hooking beneath your waistband. “Lift your hips for me.”

When you do just that, his eyes raise to find yours. He has a crazed look in his eye, one that you’re all too familiar with. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you,” he whispers, leaning in until his soft lips just barely brush against yours.

Your eyes close, and you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you. But he doesn’t. When you open your eyes, you find him grinning. The same shit-eating grin that you love and hate to no avail.

“You just have to say the words,” he whispers against your lips.

You roll your eyes, your hand reaching out to rest on the back of his neck. He was already impossibly close, so all you truly did was hold him there. “I want to kiss you.”

Leon smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “Mm, like I said. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.”

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his calloused hands smoothing over the soft, exposed skin of your thighs. Your lips move together in a gentle manner at first, as though you were allowing yourselves to get familiar all over again, but you were both quick to realize that gentleness was the last thing you needed.

Your breathing grows ragged as one of his hands cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough so that his tongue could easily slip into your mouth. The kiss was sloppier, messier, much more desperate. It was perfect, in your humble opinion.

His trails kisses down your cheek, jaw, neck… just about anywhere he could as he begins his gradual descent. His hands palm at your breasts through your shirt, and without hesitation, his hands grasp onto the fabric and yank it open. Buttons go flying about your living room, but Leon doesn’t seem to care with the way his face pressed into your cleavage.

One of his hands snaked behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, and the moment he saw a nipple, his mouth was already distracted once again.

“Leon, that was my favorite shirt!” you scold, glancing down at him.

He looks up at you with hazed eyes, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth before he releases it to reply to you. “Was it?” he asks, his reply lacking any care in the slightest.

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him, but your front doesn’t last long when his tongue swirls around your areola. He reaches into his back pocket, tossing his wallet beside you.

“Buy a new one, shit, buy anything you want,” he whispers against your skin, his hands grasping onto your waist. “Tits are so pretty, baby. I missed you.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” you ask, a huff of laughter leaving your lips while his trail down your stomach.

“Absolutely not, no,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your panties. He looks at you as he pulls them down your legs, and he presses his warm lips to your inner calves and thighs as he makes his way towards you again. “Missed everything about you.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s corny—”

“Sh,” he tells you, holding one finger up while he uses his other hand to slip one into your sopping entrance. Your walls clench around him, which only forces a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Let her talk for a bit, yeah?”

He hardly gives you a moment to reply before his head dips, his tongue curling up to stimulate your clit before he sucks on it entirely. He unabashedly moans into your cunt, introducing another finger into your entrance simultaneously.

Your head falls back, your hand delving into his hair to hold him impossibly closer to you, even though he seriously would get closer if he could.

“Sweetest pussy,” he murmurs into your heat, his voice rumbling against your wet cunt that he continued to eat like he would die if he didn’t. “Do somethin’ for me?”

You pick your head up to look down at him, nodding without question. He opens his eyes to look at you in return, pressing a kiss onto your mound before he turns around so that his back is now pressed against the front of your couch, still sitting on the ground.

“Sit on my face,” he suggests, tipping his head back onto the couch cushion.

He reaches for your hand to pull you forward, and you pivot on your knee, your front facing the back of the couch. He lays a light smack on your ass before he pulls you down the rest of the way to make you sit on his face.

Your hand reaches down, clutching onto his hair yet again while you cry out in genuine bliss. His tongue softens as he gives you long, deep licks into your pussy, wanting to taste every inch of you on his tongue.

And when your hips start to rock, he seems to be even happier. Much more incentivized too. He lulls his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it to let you ride his face as you so pleased. You made a mess of his chin, his mouth, his nose���he hardly cares.

(In fact, he doesn’t care. Not one bit. You might even have to pay him to care.)

“Y-You know,” you whine, grasping a bit firmer onto his hair while your hips continue to roll on his tongue, “I’m still mad at you.”

He nods his head, which only stimulates your cunt even more. “Mm, yeah?”

It felt so good. Everything about this was absolutely ecstasy, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears from how stimulated you’re growing.

“Yeah,” you choke out, resting your palms on the back of the couch to brace yourself. “I’m really fucking mad.”

Leon can’t help but grin, his hands brushing along the plush of your thighs. “I’m not too sure, sweetheart. Not with you riding my face like you love me ‘n all.”

“Shut… shut the hell up,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your movements begin to grow even more crazed the closer you get to your release. He was right, but that didn’t mean you had to admit that.

“Okay,” he complies, his eyes fluttering shut while he starts to greedily make out with your pussy, feeling the way you pulsate on his tongue. “Shuttin’ me up real nice with this pretty little pussy. Cum on my face too while you’re at it, pretty girl.”

Not nice enough, but you cry out anyway, your head falling while your legs tremble on either side of his head. “I… Leon, ‘m cumming,” you say through an airy moan.

His movements slow as yours do, his tongue eagerly reaping the benefits of its labor in the form of your sweet release. He lets out a content sigh, pressing a few sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

You slowly rise up from his face, and he turns around to face you again, licking his lips, not caring about the rest of your thin slick that coats his face. You chuckle, running your hand over his face to wipe it away.

“So…” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re still mad at me? Tell me more.”

“Later,” you reply, hooking your finger into the loophole of his pants to pull him closer to you.

With a chuckle, Leon pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly on the floor of your living room. He gently nudges you until you’re laying back on your couch, his hands then moving to undo his belt.

“Ah, I see,” he teases, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion. He kicks them away before he settles in between your parted legs, his hand pumping his cock.

You raise your eyes from his cock to his eyes, and you give him the most weary expression alive. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you say.

It’s been too long, you were certainly not used to his size anymore. Leon knew it just as well as you did, but he didn’t want to make you nervous by saying that.

His brows knit together as he leans down to kiss you, his fingers moving a bit lower to prod your entrance. “You flatter me,” he says against your lips, his head dipping a bit lower to kiss your neck. “No need to worry your pretty little head, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

You nod your head, one of your hands cupping the back of his head while the other rests on his strong shoulder. “Okay… yeah, okay.”

He nods too, moving one of his hands to meet the one that you have resting on his shoulder. He intertwines your fingers, pushing your hand back onto the couch while he uses his other one to slide his tip along your folds.

“I promise,” he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

He always has. Even after the events of tonight, you know that he always will.

“I love you,” you say without thinking. A flush rushes across your face, and you close your eyes in utter embarrassment. (Seriously? A confession of your undying love while he’s actively entering you? Time and place.) “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he whispers, pushing his cock further inside of you until he bottoms out. “Mm… I love you so much,” he replies without a care in the world. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Your eyes soften at that, and a small chuckle leaves your lips. “Well… that’s good, isn’t it…?”

His eyebrows knit together, laughing softly at your awkward reply. “You’re such a dork, baby,” he whispers, dipping his head to plant a kiss on your lips while he rolls his hips into yours. “A pretty one, though.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss on your lips, and they stay shut, even when he opts to just rest his forehead on yours. “Your dork,” you say, a bit breathlessly with a smile on your face.

“Mhm,” he nods in agreement, a toothy smile stretching across his face. “My dork.”

Such a lovely interaction that you nearly forgot that he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, because the moment he falls silent, your eyes widen. “Oh, God…”

He smiles, kissing your cheek while he continues to thrust inside of you, his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy in a way that made him feel like he was finally home.

“See?” he whispers in your ear, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re taking me so well, pretty. So well.”

That makes you chuckle, but your laugh doesn’t last for long when the head of his cock rams into you even harder. Your hand smooths out along the expanse of his back, dragging your nails back up.

“You’re crazy,” you gasp out.

Leon smiles. “Crazy about you, sure.”

You laugh through an airy moan, tilting your head to the side as your eyes flutter shut. “Soooo corny,” you whisper.

He shakes his head with his same toothy grin, using his free hand to tilt your chin towards him again. His thumb brushes along your bottom lip before he kisses you, and it is just about the sweetest kiss that you could have ever asked for.

“You love it,” he murmurs in reply, a bit breathless as an overwhelming heat pools in his lower stomach.

You shake your head. “I love you.”

Leon clicks his tongue at that, giving your hand a squeeze. “And I’m the corny one?”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh. He loves hearing you like this, so happy yet so utterly ruined by the way he feels inside of you. He knows that the feeling is mutual, which only amplifies how much he’s enjoying this. Having you again.

He softly moans in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Pussy was made for me,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

After a few more strokes, he truly begins to lose himself. His cock twitches inside of you, and he dips his head into your shoulder. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” he rasps.

He pulls back, but you only pull him closer. It’s been so long, he hadn’t truly thought that you’d be okay with that. But here you were, his favorite girl. Always surprising him. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, wrapping your free arm around his neck while the other gives his hand another squeeze. “I love you more.”

He grunts when your walls clench around his length, his lips pressing a longing kiss to your shoulder. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon. I need it, honey, please.”

You’re in no position to deny him or yourself. Your body trembles beneath him, a gorgeous moan ripping through the air while he buries himself deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum while you find your own release on his cock.

The two of you lay there for a moment, out of breath and entirely engulfed by one another. He slowly pulls out of you, pressing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, until he eventually kisses your lips.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him. You chase his lips once more, giving him a tender kiss before you lay your head back down.

“Now, as for why I’m still mad at you…”

note. yeahhh i need him bad in a way that’s concerning to feminism. anywhoooo interact if you enjoyed i rly like writing for him :D thank you so much for reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[dunnerlars]

always attract - matthew tkachuk

pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader summary: matthew mistakenly tells your brother that you're his date to his wedding. word count: 5.7k warnings: none? i don't think a/n: this is my fic for @sc0tters for the #the summer fic exchange 2k24 hosted by the wonderful @wyattjohnston! i haven't written in forever so this was fun to dive into- and it's not beta'd because i'm terrified to ask someone to look it over so all mistakes are my own 😅

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Matthew 🐀: I know its 5am for you but i think fucked up

Matthew 🐀: Will you be my date to your brothers wedding

The text has you blinking rapidly as you check the time, your phone bright in the dark of the room. Why the fuck is he up right now? Squinting, you see it’s just past 5am and groan, falling back into bed and wondering what the fuck Matthew’s even talking about. It takes a second for you to put everything together, mind failing to keep up with the words date, wedding, and brother.

Me: Sorry what??? What are you talking about

Matthew 🐀: we’re at connor’s bach party and leon asked if i had a date yet and i might’ve told connor you were going to be my date

Me: It’s 5AM 

Matthew 🐀: i know we’re heading back to the hotel now but Please b my date

Me: What did connor say?

You huff and roll over, sitting up to turn the light on your nightstand on. Matthew hadn’t responded back yet and you quick to type:

Me: Is he pissed??

Matthew 🐀: its hard to tell w him you know? So what do you say? Date? To the wedding? pleaseeeeeeee

Suddenly a knot forms in your stomach at the thought and despite it not being your fault you feel guilty for Connor thinking you were hiding something from him. Matthew is your friend….He wouldn’t be the worst date. Might as well get something out of it.

Me: What’s in it for me?

Matthew 🐀: literally whatever

Having a favor from Matthew could come in handy at some point, you think. And it could be worth all of this fucking nonsense he’s putting you through at now 5:22am. 

Me: Fine, but you owe me a no-barred favor. I can ask for whatever, whenever I want no matter what.

You pause-

Me: How did this even happen?

Matthew 🐀: i’ll explain tomorrow and we can figure out details!!! Thnks babe 😘

Rolling your eyes, you set your phone back down on the nightstand and sigh. It’s almost too much to think about how quickly Connor and Matthew had become close over the last couple of weeks. You’d thought for sure there would be some residual hate from the Panthers Cup win but then Matthew had invited Connor out to his day with the Cup and it was love at first bro hug or whatever excuse they used. And despite the invites going out months ago, Connor had finagled an invite for Matthew and now here you were.

Ever since your move to southern Florida last year, your growing friendship with Matthew had always bugged Connor so it was funny to you now, seeing the tables turned. 

The vibration of your phone breaks you from your thoughts and you prepare yourself for another text from Matthew only to be surprised to see it’s a text from your brother.

Connor 👼🏻: So Tkachuk huh?

Deciding it was far too early to deal with this anymore, you turn the phone over and will yourself back to sleep.

—

It’s the next day when Matthew requests to FaceTime you, your phone ringing with a video call as you step outside to your backyard and get settled on a patio chair.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Matthew greets, his grin the most endearingly annoying thing about him.

“You don’t have to use lines on me, Matthew. I’ve already said yes,” you remind him, eyebrows raised as you try your best to glare at him. You take stock of his surroundings and frown. “Are you back in St. Louis already?”

“Yeah, I had a charity thing scheduled with my dad for tonight so I flew back late yesterday.”

“Oh.. Hope you’re not too hungover.” 

He shrugs and regroups, sliding his sunglasses up into his curls. “I’m alright. So-,” he starts but you cut him off.

“I need you to explain to me what happened last night before we figure out everything else.” It’s something you’ve tried to piece together and you still haven’t texted Connor back, afraid you might break Matthew’s cover.

“Alright, that’s fair,” he nods, “We were walking back from a bar and Leon asked if I had a date to the wedding, since it was short notice that I was going. And the way he asked- it just really bugged me. Like his tone? I dunno. It just rubbed me wrong. And the guys were making shitty comments. Whatever.”

You know the tone Matthew’s referring to, grateful you’ve never been on the receiving end. Leon was a hard one to crack and it’d taken you at least a year to wear him down. Nodding at him to continue, he shifts his eyes and you can tell he’s embarrassed. 

“So obviously I told them I had a date and they stopped and it was fine- until your brother pulled me back from the group and asked who I was bringing, so he could tell Lauren, and I panicked and said you,” he mumbles the next part, your ears straining to pick up the words, “And I might've mentioned we’ve been dating.”

You pause, wondering if Matthew just said what you think he did and yeah- he did. He at least has the nerve to look sheepish, apologetic. “Dating? Are you… What? Matthew!”

“Look, I was on the spot okay! And drunk! And it’s not like it’s out of the question. You’re one of my best friends. My mom loves you, I swear you talk to my sister more than I do. I can go on,” he shoots you a pleading look.

“Well when you put it that way, sure. I guess.”

“You guess? You know I’m right.”

Sighing, you nod. “Fine. Whatever. Did you give him any details? I can’t imagine Connor didn’t have a million questions, I tell him everything.”

“What do you mean everything?”

“Matthew, that’s not the point. Did he question you at all?” 

“No. Just patted me on the shoulder and we caught up with everyone else.”

“Huh.”

That’s…. Weird. And out of character for your brother, who’s nosy as fuck when it comes to your personal life. Maybe he already thinks it’s all a lie. Or is just actually super pissed, which isn’t any better. Would this even be worth it? How often would a favor from Mattew come in handy? Okay, actually pretty handy. He’s got money, connections. Could be good to have for things you don’t wanna ask Connor for… Ugh.

Glancing up, you catch Matthew waiting for you to say something and his curls catch the back light of the St. Louis sun from behind him, casting an almost halo glow around his head. His eyes are bright, sunglasses still tucked up on the top of his head. Two front teeth catching his bottom lip and biting and God, he’s pretty. 

Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea. What could go wrong? 

“Alright, let’s figure this out…”

—

It’s hours later when you finally work up the nerve to call Connor, lying in bed after a long day. Since he hadn’t questioned Matthew for details, it was easy enough to make up a backstory for you and Matthew: it’s only been a couple of months, things aren’t serious but they’re fun and easy and you both like each other enough that it’s exclusive. Which was all real except that when you hung out, it just wasn’t a date. Because you weren’t dating. Nope.

The call finally connects, sure you were almost going to get his voicemail, and Connor greets you with, “Thanks for letting me know you’re alive.”

It’s easy to tell by the tone of his voice, short, quick and void of any emotion, that he’s disappointed because it’s the voice you know he uses when he loses a game he felt they should’ve won.

“You’re mad.”

“And why am I mad?”

“Because-”

“Because I found out you’ve been secretly dating Tkachuk behind my back, from him? Why did I have to find out from him and not you, my own sister? Was this going on throughout our entire Cup series? Or has it been longer?”

Fuck.

“Matthew lying to me is- It’s whatever. You’re my sister. Why didn’t you tell me? What about telling me made you straight up lie when I’ve asked you about your trips up to wherever the fuck the Panthers play? Or when he’s down there with you?”

Fort Lauderdale your mind supplies but you know it won’t do any good to say so.

“You always made it seem like it was just buddies when you told me you were meeting with him for lunch or whatever, someone that reminded you of home, but I guess that’s what made it so easy, huh?” The heat in Connor’s voice has petered out, like he’s figuring it all out and he sighs. “Fuck. I’m sorry. This is probably why you didn’t want to say anything to me.”

“It really was just friends, Con. I promise,” you tell him. “Then… I dunno. Things just got more real. I didn’t want to see anyone else and he didn’t either. It’s only been a couple of months, I swear.”

“So, through the series, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Connor lets out a long breath, like he’s deciding his next words carefully. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I get it. It wasn’t the best reaction.”

“No shit,” you laugh.

“But you’re coming to the wedding together?” You hear someone shout in the background and grin when you recognize Lauren’s voice. “Lauren wants to know if she should switch your escort down the aisle to Chucky.”

“I mean,” you pause, thinking. It would be nice to know who was walking down with you, one of Lauren’s second cousins or something was supposed to be your escort but having Matthew on your arm would be nice. “Yeah, sure. As long as it doesn’t fuck anything up on her end.”

Connor grunts, “As if Lauren would let anything fuck that day up. It’s fine. Let Chucky know for us, yeah? She’s making the calls already.”

“Alright. Thanks, Con. And tell Lauren thank you too.”

“Will do. Love ya, kiddo. Sorry I freaked out.”

You roll your eyes. Brothers. 

“Love you too. I’ll text you once I talk to him.”

Lauren and Connor both shouted their goodbyes as you hung up.

Me: So you’re gonna be my escort down the aisle next week in the wedding 🙂

Matthew 🐀: Fuck you

Me: You wish

Matthew 🐀: well yeah

Of course he didn’t mean it like that- Matthew always down for a joke, and you calm your racing heart, gulping down some water.

So now you not only have a fake boyfriend but also said (fake) boyfriend was going to walk you down the aisle at your brother’s wedding. In a week. Great.

—

You fly into St. Louis. The plan was to meet up with Matthew on the Saturday before the wedding and then you’d fly up to Toronto and drive up to Muskoka together on Wednesday. Trying to keep up appearances, Matthew had said. Thankfully the flight from Miami to Missouri wasn’t too terrible, even if the lady that was sat next to you had a perfume on that made you nauseous. 

Matthew had texted you that he was idling on the curb, waiting, and once you had your bags, you headed outside into the muggy heat. The loud honk of a horn coming from a giant black SUV startles you and Matthew rolls down the window with a laugh, “Come on, they’re gonna make me move again.”

It was tempting to make him squirm but you caught the eye of one of the traffic guards and scurry forward, dumping your bags into the backseat before jumping into the passenger’s side. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” he grins, turning on his blinker before merging onto the road. “Seatbelt please.”

The quietness of the truck surprises you as you buckle your seatbelt, having expected some kind of rap music or sports podcast to be playing through the speakers. Or at least that’s what he normally was listening to when you’d meet up in Miami, and he’d pick you up at your apartment. The silence was comfortable though, the quiet hum of the AC and the tapping of Matthew’s fingers against the steering wheel filling the cab. His posture was relaxed, slouched in the driver’s seat.

Matthew swats lightly at your thigh, pulling your attention away from the window, “You should let Connor know you’re here.”

Digging through your bag, you search for your phone and fire off a quick text to the group chat with your brother and parents that you’d made it safely to St. Louis and were with Matthew, heading back to his house.

“So, how was the flight?”

Well it was fine in the sense that nothing went wrong and there weren’t any screaming babies and you managed to fall asleep since you’d been up at the ass crack of dawn to make sure you got to the airport in time but- Well. Your dreams had been filled with flashes of Matthew’s smile and his laugh and how he always managed to make you feel better after a bad day at work and he’d called just to say he was bored and was wondering what you were doing and, and and-. 

Where was this even coming from?

You obviously couldn’t say all of that so you shrug, “It was okay. The lady next to me must’ve bathed in perfume because I almost gagged but I pulled a mask on and managed to fall asleep against the window.”

Matthew whistles in sympathy, “God that’s always the worst.”

Nodding, you chew on your bottom lip and turn to face him in your seat and get a good look at him. “You look nice.”

And he did. There was something different about him and you weren’t sure if it was the glowing tan that covered his neck and arms, the blonde that was starting to weave its way into the curls that sat neatly on his head, or just the ease at which he was holding himself but he looked different. Maybe part of it was the fact that the last time you’d seen Matthew in person was right after the Panthers victory and he’d been dog tired and worn out, bushy beard and clothes hanging off his frame. This Matthew was refreshed and had a Stanley Cup under his belt, carefree and like nothing could bring him down. 

Matthew glances at you quickly, a sly smile overtaking his face. “Yeah? Well, gotta look good for my girlfriend ya know? Figured I’d shower, at the very least.”

Wait.

“Your parents don’t think we’re dating, right?”

Matthew’s quick to shake his head with a honking laugh, “Nah, I explained to them what happened. My mom’s excited to see you again though. And Taryn.”

“Not your dad?”

Pulling off the highway, he chuckles and shrugs. “Big Walt’s not home. He’s on some golf trip for the week.”

It’s hard not to let your relief show. Keith wasn’t your favorite person and taking him out of the equation of this short trip was a small victory you were willing to celebrate. To yourself.

“Cool cool cool.”

“It’s okay that you don’t like him,” Matthew assures you as he pulls up to what you can only assume is his parents home. It wasn’t familiar to you in the way Matthew’s St. Louis home was becoming from all of the play-by-play videos he’s sent during his off time, describing the day he’s had while grabbing his mail, or going for a walk around the neighborhood while telling you about the latest update on Brady’s incoming baby or what he was going to have for dinner.

“I don’t like how he treats you,” you remind him, voice quiet.

It was no secret to Matthew how you felt about his father. You couldn’t even begin to count how many times you’d heard Keith put him down through solo interviews or in passing comments from Matthew or even Tayrn, when she’d call to tell you about another argument the two of them had that she’d overheard.

Matthew nods, grimacing. “Well, we don’t have to deal with him while we’re here. Come on, let’s head in before my mom wonders why we’re sitting out here instead.”

The rest of the day was uneventful. You and Taryn hang out in the backyard with White Claws while she tells you horror stories from her last semester at college and Matthew flits in and out, helping his mom with dinner while also trying to get the juicy gossip. It was comfortable, even if the St. Louis air was sticky with humidity and dinner went by quickly and soon enough, you were back in Matthew’s car heading to his place.

“Well this is nice. Not as nice as the one in Florida but- nice,” you whistle, taking in the coziness of Matthew’s home. There was an overstuffed couch in the center of the living room, a coffee table littered with sports magazines, and further back you could see the kitchen with deep brown cabinets and hardwood floors to match. “Very cozy.”

“Yeah, my mom took care of most of it during the season. I just sent a bunch of pictures of things for her to copy,” Matthew shrugs, nodding up the stairs. “Uh, guest rooms are up there. You tired?”

“Really fucking tired.”

“Come on then, up we go.”

Matthew led the way up the stairs, carrying your suitcase. The temptation to smack his ass was a hard one to quell but you just barely managed when you hit the landing. 

“So,” he points to the left. “That room I use as an office but it’s got an en suite. Bed’s kinda small though.” Pointing to the right, he glances at you before speaking. “That one’s closest to my room. Bigger bed. No bathroom though.”

“Well obviously I’m taking the bigger bed.” You nudge his arm with yours, taking the suitcase and heading towards the room. “So, plans for tomorrow: Taryn said something about getting lunch? I don’t know if you’re invited. Also you’ve gotta take me to that bakery here you’ve been talking about for months so I can judge the almond croissant you’ve deemed better than the ones from True Loaf. Which are the best. Obviously.”

As you dig through your suitcase in search of pajamas, you glance up to see Matthew leaning against the doorway with a weird smile on his face as he looks at you. “You good?”

“Yeah, just-,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “Glad to have you here. It’s been a while.”

“Happy to be here. Boyfriend.” You shoot him a wide grin, hoping it covers up the clear nervousness you’re feeling now that you’re settling in. Sleeping in his house.

Matthew snorts, shaking his head. “See you in the morning.”

—

The rest of your time in St. Louis was kind of great, all things considered. Matthew was an attentive host and Taryn and Chantal were eager to fill your time- from gossiping about the league, to things you needed to check out the next time you were in town. And Chantal had made you promise that you would- come back, that is, on your last night in St. Louis with the four of you crowded around the table in the backyard of Matthew’s house, sharing a bottle of wine and embarrassing stories.

You’d had to double, and triple check, with Matthew to make sure his mom or sister didn’t think the two of you were actually dating, especially when promises were being made to come back.

He’d just shrugged and said, “They just like you. I like you. Jeez, do people not tell you they like you?”

You were kind of bummed to be leaving as you packed your bag the morning of the flight up to Toronto, Matthew’s obnoxious singing ringing loudly throughout the house. After combing through the room a third time, you deemed it free and clear of your belongings and headed down the stairs, rolling your suitcase next to Matthew’s and chuckled at the sight before you as you turned towards the kitchen.

Singing horribly out of tune with Dancing Queen blasting on his phone’s speaker, was Matthew dancing like an idiot around the island in the center of his kitchen, eyes closed and belting the lyrics.

“Matthew.”

The live concert comes to an end, Matthew scrambling to pause the music. “Sorry,” he replies, ears tinged red in embarrassment. 

“Hey no complaints from me, but Taryn’s gonna be here in a minute,” you remind him, the fond smile on your face giving away far too much.

Matthew pockets his phone, nodding. He holds your gaze for a second before asking, “Come here?”

As soon as you’re a couple of steps away, Matthew pulls you into his chest and you go with a surprised oof.

“Thank you. For doing this.”

You turn your head into his chest, ear pressed against where his heart was and find comfort in the timed beating while you nod. “You’re welcome,” you mumble, turning your chin up and glancing at him.

Your gazes lock, his blue eyes searching yours. For what, you’re unsure but he seems to find the answers he’s looking for a short minute later, because he gives you another squeeze and steps back, letting out a breath. 

“I’ll grab the bags if you can shut the lights off?”

You’re already on it as Matthew walks away, flipping the switch in the kitchen and checking the backdoor to make sure it’s locked. The living room lights are next, and you meet him at the front door, catching Taryn’s car parked on the curb waiting. 

The drive to the airport is short, the early morning hours more forgiving with traffic and after giving Taryn a quick hug and a promise to text her when you both landed, you stepped away to give her and Matthew some privacy while dropping your bags at the kiosk outside. 

“Ready?” He asks, as you both wave goodbye to Taryn as she pulls away from the curb. 

“Let’s do this.”

The flight is smooth for how short it is, 2 hours passing by quickly. Arriving in Toronto is a nightmare, as usual, and Matthew spends over 30 minutes at the rental car desk trying to figure out where your reservation went. Eventually it gets sorted out and you’re on the road, tucked into the passenger seat of a sports car that you didn’t ask for. 

“If I fall asleep, don’t get mad at me please,” you yawn, pulling your feet up under you to get comfortable and leaning on the center console.

“Want me to turn the radio down?” Matthew doesn’t wait for your answer, his hand going for the volume knob but you stop him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“No, it’s good. I know it helps keep you awake.” Pulling your hand away from his slowly you tuck it underneath your head and nudge your forehead against his arm. “Thank you for driving, by the way.”

“Happy to, honestly. Driving helps me clear my head,” he tells you, glancing down and shooting you a grin.

You’re tempted to ask what’s going on with him- he’s been acting a little out of character since this morning but sense that he’s not ready to talk about it, so you just hum in acknowledgement and turn into your arms, willing for sleep to find you.

Thankfully you manage to fall asleep on the ride up, a small 2 hour nap doing the trick because you wake up feeling rested.

The cottages were set on the lake in Muskoka where everyone would be staying for the wedding and you and Matthew were set to share one with your parents with Connor and Lauren next door in the one they own and spend his off season in. 

Your mom and dad are sat on the front porch in a set of rocking chairs as Matthew pulls up and  you’re quick to jump out of the car once it stops, calling out to them as they wave to you in greeting while he grabs the bags out of the trunk, “Long time, no see!”

Once hellos and introductions are done, with your dad and Matthew bonding what feels like instantly and your mom hugs you so hard you almost can’t breathe, the four of you make the small trek over to Connor and Lauren’s for dinner after dropping your bags off.

Dinner is comfortable, Matthew sat on your right with his arm draped across the back of your chair the whole time. Connor doesn’t give you two any weird looks and you count it as a win as you settle down for the night, avoiding talking about the fact that there’s only one bed in the room while you both brush your teeth. 

“I forget how involved these things are,” Matthew says, leaning against the counter watching while you finish washing your face.

“Weddings? Yeah, I mean. I think this is a little different, though,” you laugh, pat drying your face. “Lauren’s dialed everything up to a thousand for it.”

Matthew nods, thinking about it. “I’ve noticed,” he finally answers with, nudging you out of the bathroom. 

“And there was one bed,” you dramatically announce, sweeping your arms around the room and Matthew honest to god giggles which causes you to start giggling, both of you falling into a heap on the bed, trying to catch your breath.

Clearing his throat, Matthew grunts, “We’re adults, we can share a bed. Right?” His head turns towards yours and you swallow, realizing how close the two of you are. 

If you scooted an inch closer, you’d be able to tilt your head up and press your lips to his and- No.

“Right,” you finally manage to mumble out.

The air is stilted while you both turn down the bed, shuffling under the covers once the light is out and you make sure to stay tucked to your side of the bed, legs curled under you and knees almost hanging off the bed.

This was going to be a long weekend.

—

From morning yoga to late night barbecues, swimming and then rehearsals, you were exhausted. Not to mention keeping up appearances with Matthew: hand holding, arms wrapped around waists, and too many forehead kisses to count were wearing on you. It was starting to feel real and thinking about what was to come when the weekend was over and you’d go your separate ways was overwhelming.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, which was hard enough, was that the last week or so with Matthew had been nothing short of amazing. You didn’t date, really ever. It was hard enough being Connor McDavid’s sister and trying to figure out if someone actually wanted to be with you vs. wanting to know your brother and the perks it comes with but, with Matthew that didn’t exist. You didn’t have to question why he wanted to be around, and while yes, you know each other because of Connor, you were friends in your own right.

The morning of the wedding came quickly, finally managing to get a solid amount of sleep and it was easy to figure out why when you accounted for the fact Matthew’s chest was beneath your cheek when you woke up. So far you’d both managed to keep separate throughout the night, at least as far as you could tell since he was up before you most mornings so this was surprising. 

Matthew shifts beneath you and you peer up as he blinks his eyes open, gaze catching yours. “Sorry,” you mumble, about to roll away when he catches you by the waist to hold you tight to him.

He groans deep in his chest as he stretches out and settles back against the pillows, content with a smile. “Mmm, don’t apologize. This is nice,” he tells you, thumb rubbing against the bare skin of your arm.

You hum in agreement before catching the time on the alarm clock opposite of you and sigh. “It is, but I’ve gotta get up. Bridesmaids duties call and if I’m late, Lauren will murder me and I’ve been having a nice time so I’d like to not ruin that.”

“I have too,” Matthew agrees, “I was nervous at first but it’s been kind of- fun? And having you around hasn’t been too terrible either.”

You pinch him in the side at that and he squawks, shuffling away. “Alright, alright. Damn,” he laughs, jumping out of bed. “I ruined the mood, I get it.”

A knock sounds on the door, your mother’s voice ringing out on the other side. “Sweetie, Lauren just called to make sure you’re awake. We’ve gotta head over soon.”

“I’ll be down in five,” you call back, throwing the covers off and shooting Matthew a glare. 

His hands come up in surrender and you laugh, closing the bathroom door behind you.

You don’t have to do much before leaving, since the ladies are getting ready over at Connor and Lauren’s cottage and the guys are coming here. Washing up and grabbing your bag, you blow a sarcastic kiss to Matthew on your way out and he rolls his eyes and catches it before you leave and your mother just laughs, teasing you for how cute the both of you are. 

The wedding is beautiful, as expected. The guest list is full of people who you’ve known most of your life, who have supported Connor throughout his career, and you’re immensely proud of the person he’s become.

You stand at the altar among Lauren’s best friends and watch your brother get married, near tears, seeing how happy he is. How happy they both are- you’re gaining a sister in her and it’s all kinds of crazy magical, how everything’s come together and that includes having Matthew as your date because he’s been kind of the best. 

Once dinner is done, the cake is cut and the happy couple has come through and been announced and their first dance out of the way, the dance floor opens up and everyone lets loose. The DJ is fun and plays throwback after throwback and Matthew keeps close to you, offering to refill your drink or ask if you need a break when slow songs come on. Eventually you do, toeing off your shoes and hiding them under your chair before slumping into the table. 

“I am pooped,” you whine, blowing your hair out of your face and groaning into your arms. 

“It’s a little early to be tapping out, babe,” Matthew chuckles, finishing off his beer. 

“God, I know. Lauren will kill me if I leave early,” you glance around the dance floor for her and see Celeste behind her, arms wrapped around each other's necks and you smile. “Are you having fun? I’m not keeping you from anything? I know the guys are around here somewhere.”

Matthew’s quick to shake his head, nudging his knee with yours. “Nope, nowhere else I wanna be.” He licks his lips and you track the movement, mesmerized. “And yeah, lots of fun. You’re not too bad of a date.”

You snort, “Thanks. Really appreciate that.”

A few songs later and a discussion of the rest of your summer plans gone, you both join the dance floor again when a slow song hits. Matthew’s hands slide low on your waist and your hands clasp behind his neck, swaying to the beat. The music is soft and you can hear the nighttime noises from the woods behind you, the lapping of the lake against the dock that’s not too far away. It’s calming and Matthew pulls you a little closer, your head just close enough to rest against his chest.

“Have you thought about the favor you want when this is all done?” He wonders, keeping his voice low so only you can hear.

Honestly you’d forgotten all about the deal you’d made- it wasn’t exactly a hardship to play fake girlfriend to Matthew because it wasn’t all that different to how you normally interacted with him. But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe there was something you wanted. More time.

You tell him honestly, “Yeah. Later though,” and tuck your face back into his chest and will for the moment to never end.

—

It does come to an end. The wedding dies down a couple of hours later, Connor and Lauren waving everyone off and thanking the guests for coming. You and Matthew are both sober enough to make the small trek back to the cottage next door and he holds your hand the entire way back, using the excuse of not wanting to lose you in the dark. It’s tempting to call him on it but you don’t want him to let go either.

Your parents are already settled in bed when you both tiptoe up the stairs and you sigh in relief when you’re finally back in the bedroom, closing the door and immediately chucking your heels across the room.

Settling in for the last night, you turn over and feel brave, scooting closer to Matthew in the dark. 

“I don’t think I wanna fly back to Miami tomorrow,” you whisper, heart hammering. “I’ve still got the next week off and I was going to use it to catch up on some things around my apartment but I just. Don’t want to. You’re going back to St. Louis right?”

Matthew turns on his side to face you and you feel warmth spreading through your chest at the way he’s taking you in- like you’re something special, something to be taken care of. 

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” he tells you. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m ready to cash in my favor.”

“Alright, hit me. What’ve you got?”

The look Matthew’s giving you is encouraging and you suddenly feel brave and steadily say, “Go somewhere with me.”

Matthew reaches across the short distance and his hand catches yours, twining your fingers together and asks, “Where are we going?”

[drabblesandimagines]

Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

--

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

--

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

--

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

--

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

--

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

--

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

--

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.” 

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

[lipglossanon]

Day 9

Kink: Anal

Pairing: Priest!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slight religious themes, sex in a cemetery, rimming, dirty talk, ass eating, pussy play, anal sex, unprotected sex, anal creampie

not proofread

It’s late evening when Leon offers to take you for a stroll around the small cemetery behind his chapel. October being your favorite month of the year, it always elicits the need for spooky pastimes—and a graveyard stroll falls perfectly in that category. 

No one is ever at the chapel, especially on the days you visit. Father Kennedy prefers the isolation and quiet; you being one of his few exceptions. The clouds overhead loom heavy and gray, hints at a cold rain later tonight. The rows of tombstones stretch out a good ways with a small gravel path winding through the cemetery. 

Leon’s like a silent shadow next to you; a warm, steady presence at your back as you slowly make your way through the headstones. For some reason, it has your heart pumping, arousal slowly pooling in your stomach. It’s not a foreign feeling by any means, but you can’t say you’ve ever wanted to have sex in a graveyard before. But with Leon here with you now, dressed down in a simple long sleeve button up and dark slacks, the thought won’t leave your brain. 

Dusk has settled beyond the trees, bathing everything in purples and blues. Biting your lip, you turn, chest brushing against Father Kennedy’s and it makes you inhale a little more breathily. 

“Hi,” you smile up at him, running your fingers up along his buttons before smoothing out across his shoulders. 

He doesn’t crack a smile but he angles his head toward you, “Hi.”

Running a tongue along your bottom lip, you watch as his eyes track the movement.  

“You’re totally free to say no—“

“Yes.”

His reply startles a laugh from you. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I doubt I’ll be unhappy with agreeing with you.”

His deadpan delivery makes your chest flutter. 

“Do you wanna fuck me? Right here?” You gesture to a patch of dead grass underneath a tree, right off the side of the little path you’re both standing on. 

“Yes,” he rasps, hands greedily grasping your hips. 

Grinning, you begin to walk backwards, letting him steer you in the right direction, “Not worried about scaring the locals?”

He shakes his head, “No one visits this time of day.”

Once you’ve made it to the designated spot, you pull away and slip off your jacket. Kneeling, you bend over to spread it across the ground—knowing it’s not much, but still better than nothing. Before you can sit back up, Leon’s boxing your body in, grinding his bulge against your ass, lips kissing and nipping at your neck. 

His hands make quick work of your jeans, yanking them and your panties down to our thighs. A low groan comes from behind you before his hot hands grope your ass, kneading the soft skin. 

“Let me fuck you.. here,” his thumb brushes against your asshole, making you clench around nothing. 

“B-but we don’t have any lube,” you gasp, dizzy from the sudden rush of blood at his offer. 

“We’ll go slow,” his low smoky tenor has your clit pulsing with your heartbeat. “I’ll lick you open, get you nice and loose.”

His fingers swipe from your swollen clit, across your soaked hole to tap his wet fingers against your asshole. A gust of air is your only warning before Leon’s tongue laps at the same spot, groaning at the taste of your slick coated rim. 

Using his hands, Father Kennedy spreads your cheeks and gropes each one in his palms. He pulls back and spits on your hole, dipping back down to flick his tongue around the opening. Your pussy leaks slick down your thighs and you bite down on your forearm, but it doesn’t do much to dampen your moans. 

It grows dark in the cemetery as Leon licks you open, tongue slipping into your ass while he teases your clit at the same time. You’re so turned on, you feel dizzy with it—face feeling hot in the cool autumn air. Leon’s own groans and sighs against your rim makes your cunt flutter around nothing. He eats your ass eagerly, like he’s afraid you’ll tell him to stop. It’s making your toes curl in your shoes. 

Another rough swipe of his fingers across your clit makes you keen loudly. 

“‘M gonna cum soon,” you pant, nails digging into the grass. 

He pulls away from your spit soaked asshole, the fingers on your clit stilling their movement. 

“Let’s see if you can come on my cock then, little sinner.”

His words burn hot in your pelvis, clit pulsing against his digits. You feel as he notches the head of his dick against your pussy. 

“Need to get my dick wet first,” he murmurs, right before he presses inside your clenching heat, sinking all the way until he bottoms out in your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, eyes nearly rolling back. “God, this feels so good.”

A sharp slap to your ass makes you cry out. 

“It’s rude to take the lords name in vain. How many times must I tell you?”

Your walls pulse and clench down on his cock. 

“S-sorry, Father,” your whimpering turns to moaning when he pulls his dick completely out of your snug pussy. 

“As much as I love filling this sweet hole,” he slaps your pussy lips. “Think it’s time I stuff this one.”

He grinds the tip of his dick against your rim before using his thumb to keep the head from slipping out, pushing in until he sinks in the first inch. 

“Oh my—ohhh,” you whine, body tensing at the dull sting of his cock stretching your ass. 

“Shhh, just be quiet and take it. Be a good girl,” he soothes. 

Both holes clench and flutter, pussy feeling left out as your ass squeezes down on Father Kennedy’s cock. He steadily rocks his hips forward until he buries his entire dick into your tight ass. You’ve been unable to stop the sounds escaping your mouth, drool seeping past your lips as you bury your face in your arms. 

“Perfect slut,” he rumbles, hands petting down your back to grope your hips before sweeping across your ass to hold your cheeks open, watching as he pulls out. 

Your body’s on fire, arousal pooling in your stomach from the sheer stretch of Leon’s cock. He fucks back in slowly, fingers reaching down to gather your slick to smear against your rim and his dick to keep it smooth. A burning ache settles in your body, but it’s not unpleasant. You like that it hurts a little—that Leon is giving you this experience. 

The push and pull of his cock is slow and steady, fingers circling your clit help keep that sweet band of arousal winding tighter and tighter. The thickness of his dick hollows out your body in a way that’s extremely satisfying, awakening a new hunger in you that is only satisfied with having Father Kennedy stuff your ass. 

“Fuck, Father—Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you hiccup a moan. “I’m g’nna cum.”

“Good girl,” he praises, voice soft. “Squeeze that tight little hole around my cock. Show me where you want me to fill you up.”

Shuddering, your heart pounds in your chest, breaths gusting from your mouth so hard dirt swirls up from the ground. His fingers strum your slippery clit and your orgasm rips through your body like a supernova. You think you shout out his name, maybe it’s just gibberish, but your body tries to curl in on itself. Thighs jumping and shaking, you push your ass back, hole clamping down on his cock like a vice. 

You hear him curse under his breath before groaning, followed by heat as he cums in you. Aftershocks ravage your body, everything feels sensitive as he slowly pulls out, jizz dribbling from your rim to drip onto the grass. 

His thumb brushes against your hole and you hiss.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He tugs your clothes back into place and shuffles to his feet, then helps you to stand on unsteady legs. His unzipped slacks are the only hint to any impropriety aside from your own disheveled state. 

You grin up at him. 

“Sure thing, Father.”

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

lips of an angel

pairing: married! leon x marriage counselor! reader

cw: infidelity, p in v, oral, over-usage of 'good girl', regret, leon is an asshole (like, he's really a dick), reader is also not a good person (so, hopefully it's ooc for u lol), not proofread enough

summary: leon is married to ashley (she deserves better) and he cheats on her with reader who is the marriage counselor

a/n: based on a reddit post lol. also, it's time for us to admit that lips of an angel is such a fucking good song and leon would listen to it. (imagining this is id! leon and that song came out around that time so actually it's perfect. anyway, bye)

wc: 2.7k

[edit] taglist

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It starts like many horror stories do: with a knock at the door. He's tall, dark, and handsome, standing in the doorframe. Except not that dark, not very tall at all, but incredibly handsome and you've come to find over the sessions you've spent together that his looks are your weakness. His weakness is you. And many other women. Including his wife, who usually attends these sessions, but tonight, he comes alone. Maybe it's the rain that's beating down on the windows - thought it should sound like a warning - that makes you feel sympathetic enough to let him in when you know you shouldn't.

You let him sit on your couch, but make him hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack so he doesn't ruin the furniture. So you can see his biceps better. And his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The first two buttons are already undone, but that's how he always dresses. You know this because you spend too much time looking at him. What does his wife wear? Skirts? Dresses? Pantsuits? She could wear a goddamn clown costume to every session and you'd be none the wiser because you're staring at her husband like he's a piece of meat.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here?" you ask him. "Your appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"I'm having marriage troubles. I thought you might be able to help."

It's in the job title: marriage counselor.

"Where's Ashley?" It's a loaded question, and the gun is pointed at your entire fucking career.

"She couldn't come. Plus, I don't think she'd like to know about these problems I'm having."

You take a deep breath, contemplating absolutely nothing because you've already made your choice. You made your choice months ago when you had your first appointment with the Kennedys.

“Remember when I said I had a history of cheating?”

“I do. Has this become a problem again?”

“Not exactly,” he says with a slight chuckle that you later find is ironic in nature. “But I’ve been having thoughts…”

“Are these thoughts sexual?”

“Very.”

“Have you tried taking care of it yourself?” You make a hand gesture to signal ‘if you know what I mean’ and pray he knows what you mean so you don’t have to say the words ‘jerk off’ explicitly.

“Yes, but it hasn’t worked.” He looks directly into your eyes when he says it.

"Are these thoughts about a specific person?"

"Yes." 

His answers, which are limited to only a few words at a time, make you feel like you're shaking up a magic 8 ball, and the blue goop reveals a die that has little to say beyond 'It is certain', 'My sources say no', and 'Try again later'. 

“Is there a way you could distance yourself from this person so you don’t have any potential ‘slip ups’?” you ask.

“Sure, but I’d have to stop counseling if I did.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon.”

“Right. Leon, I’m not trying to be presumptuous, but are you insinuating that these thoughts are about me?”

“That they are.” His smile gives you a golden star-shaped sticker for guessing correctly.

You give him a scowl. "I'll set you up with a new therapist, then."

“Let me ask you something,” he says, leaning forward, staring right into your soul. “Are you attracted to me too?”

“I’m not comfortable answering-”

“That’s not a ‘no’. Is it?”

You try to wipe the look of shock arousal off your face.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I remember you asking a lot of questions about my sex life, especially the parts that don’t involve my wife, and getting visibly flustered when I answered them.”

“Of course I asked questions like that. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. I’m sorry if you-” 

You should ask him to leave, separate yourself before you explode in frustration. Getting defensive is not a healthy way to argue. You know this. You've told him this.

“If I remember correctly you asked me about how I touch myself, when I do it, if I watch anything.” He doesn't wait for a response from you, but it wouldn't have come anyway. “And, the whole time you were sitting there chewing on your pen, pretending not to imagine it. And then writing it down in a hurry, making sure you got down every little detail.” He taps on your pad of paper.

“Can I see this for a moment?” He snags it from the table beside you and flips through the pages. Without thinking, you leap forward and try to snatch it from him, falling into his lap.

The embarrassing part is when he lifts you off of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s highly confidential!”

“Mr and Mrs. Kennedy,” he begins to read imitating your voice.

“Enough.” You use your sternest voice with him - which is far from stern.

“It says right here that Mr. Kennedy is 'a total dick’ but ‘totally fuckable’.”

“It does not!”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?” He looks up with a smile on his face that’s both charming and cruel.

"I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to play with me right now, Leon."

It's the devil's edition of 20 questions, it seems.

He flips the pad closed, and says, “I’ll leave right now if you answer one question truthfully.”

“Fine," you huff, snatching the pad of paper and stashing it out of his reach.

“Did you go home and touch yourself while thinking about me?”

You shake your head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not."

“You couldn’t even make it home, huh? You did it right here, didn’t you?”

You don't have to answer - the look on your face gives it away.

“Was it on the couch? Right where I was sitting? Where I'm sitting right now."

“Fine. You win, you got it right. Are you happy now?” You concede because you want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, so you can go hide your face and die. 

You want him to fuck you within an inch of your life and then you'll die happily. La petite mort? That's what they call it, right? You want that.

Leon just hums in response, giving you no insight into his thoughts. Though it doesn't take a therapist to guess that he's mentally fucking you. To your surprise, he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

When he gets to the door, you say, “Wait-”

“What?” He asks, nonchalant to such a degree that one might believe the events of the previous few minutes never transpired at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Like I said I would.”

“You’re just gonna leave? Do you get off on embarrassing people? Is that it?”

“No. I get off to you, and you know that." He's oddly defensive despite having the upper hand. "I also know that a large part of you despises me, but it’s because there’s a part of you that wants to fuck me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the therapist, not me.”

“I’m telling your wife.”

“You’re going to tattle on me?" He laughs. “That wouldn’t be very HIPAA-compliant of you, would it?”

“Why are you doing this?" It feels like a nightmare that you can't escape where a terrifying shadowy figure is chasing you while you're screaming out for help and no one's listening. Except, this is more horrific due to the fact that you like it. Your thoughts about the man in front of you are downright depraved. You are both the monster, mirrors of each other. 

"I thought you wanted to fix your marriage," you say.

“My wife wants to fix our marriage. You and I both know it’s doomed. But you’re not allowed to say that, are you?”

You shouldn't be saying half the things you are right now, but it's too late to turn back now. You are the sunk cost. And the ship that was the concept of 'fixing Leon's marriage' has already sailed.

“You want the truth? I’ve known since the moment you opened your mouth that your marriage was done.”

“Then why did you keep having sessions? Was it for the money?” He pauses. “I doubt it. You’re a good therapist. You could get other clients. There was another reason. And, we both know what that reason is, but I won’t make you say it. I’m not that mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And that’s what you like most about me.”

“It is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you want to? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Convince me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking me to convince you instead of telling me to fuck off? You just want me to come up with a reason that doesn’t make you feel bad about doing it.”

“And there isn’t one.”

“No, there isn’t," he says with a bit of pity, knowing he's dragging you down into the second circle of Hell with him.

“You have to swear to tell your wife.”

“Is that a yes?”

He did not swear to tell his wife, but Leon is a cheater and a liar already. If he swore to tell his wife, you'd only be an idiot to believe him. 

“Lock the door.”

He turns around and flicks the lock. “Done.”

You stand up and his mouth is on yours. He’s the best kisser. Silver-tongued, you should've known it. You can fucking taste it too. Metallic. No, that's blood. You bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

You’re the one who starts undressing him first but he doesn’t make fun of you. He helps you out of your top instead.

“Goddamn you have perfect tits. It’s a shame you always keep ‘em hidden.”

“It’s a professional environment.”

“Yeah, it’s so professional that you fuck your clients in it.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

"Don't worry. You’re not the first therapist I’ve fucked. I’ll lead.” Leon lays you down on the couch  - roughly, but cradling your head so you don’t knock it on anything. 

You gasp. "Leon, the couch is damp from your wet clothes," you whine.

"I promise it'll be soaked by the time I leave."

Before you can open your mouth, he’s kissing down your chest, making his way to your panties. His tongue is good at more than just talking. He has you unraveling within minutes, moaning obscenely.

“As much as love your pretty moans, baby, we’ve gotta be quiet. Don’t want you to get fired.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a good therapist, and a good girl.”

“You think I’m a good girl?”

“So good. And you taste amazing.” He places a kiss on your clit and you nearly cry, having forgotten the feeling of his tongue in the mere seconds you spent without it. “I want you to come in my mouth.” He sucks on your clit until you do.

Leon's lips are dark and puffy when they meet yours - the ones on your face. He asks, “How did you imagine us doing it?”.

“Mostly me on top of you.”

“It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he says, placing featherlight kisses from your jaw down your neck.

You shake your head. “None of this is.”

“I know. You've got morals. You’re a good girl.” He pauses before whispering into the shell of your ear, “That’s why you deserve to have me however you want me.”

His right hand is busy holding you steady so he fingers you with his left. You watch as his wedding band slips in and out of your pussy along with his middle finger, giving a double fuck you to his wife with each movement.

He seems fascinated by the squelching sounds, no longer focused on getting his dick inside you. The heavy rain outside covers up some of the noise but not enough to save you the embarrassment.

"Jesus. Just fuck me already." You try desperately to avoid sounding desperate, praying he takes your irritation at face value.

But you're too obvious, you wear your sick, sick heart on your sleeve. 

"You want my dick that bad and you haven't even seen it yet."

"I hope it's as big as your ego."

"No you don't. That'd be painful, medically concerning probably."

You want to laugh because he manages to be funny and charming as hell despite being an absolute dick, but that fact makes you hate him more. And the blood that courses through you has nowhere to go but south.

All the while, his fingers refuse to leave your aching center. "Leon," you whine, pushing his hand away, "you're gonna make me cum again."

"I know," he purrs. "I wanna make up for all the months you've spent here by yourself, with your fingers inside you instead of mine."

"I was pretending they were yours." There's no point in saving the confession anymore.

"I'm sure you were, but I've got somethin' better for you, baby."

And, abruptly, he removes his fingers. You watch him unbuckle his belt, and despite this being your fantasy, you look at him like he's betrayed you.

"What?" he says, coyly, "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, but I was about to cum, and you just took your fingers away. You're such an asshole!" You pout like a bratty child.

"Yeah, I know I am," he says - his words are muffled by the square packet he tears with his teeth. He slides on the rubber barrier before he picks you up and sits you down on his cock, disregarding the obscene noises you make as he shoves himself inside you all at once.

You're wet but there's a stretch. His dick is big, maybe not as big as his ego, but bigger than any you've taken before. This is how he gets away with it, you think.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. His hands have an iron grip on your hips. "You've gotta learn to loosen up and relax. You're too high strung. This is probably good for you."

It's not, you'll find when the orgasm wears off, but right now it feels really fucking good.

His thumb circles your clit while you bounce up and down, working well in tandem. Ironic, as you've made so little progress in your weekly sessions. As expected, the dual stimulation makes you slick with arousal, opening you up for him.

His voice sounds distant, droned out by your own moans which get even louder as his words get filthier. "Bet all your advice didn't work 'cause your brain was all fuzzy thinking about what my cock would feel like inside you. Or maybe you did it on purpose 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

"No… n-no-" you say, voice trembling just as your thighs do.

"S'okay, baby. Girls with messy pussies like you can't help it. Just need to get some dick in you and then you can go back to being a good girl."

Can you? Maybe you can a 'good girl' in the bedroom, but a morally-upstanding woman? Even in your own eyes, he's corrupted you.

Still, you call out for him, "Leon," you cry, the singular syllable drawn out. You are lucky that the thunder from the storm is louder than your voice could ever be.

"I know," he says, "I'm close too."

The way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. 

You are oddly dissatisfied at the fact that he spills into the condom, not into you. It feels so impersonal. Because it is. It doesn't escape you that he didn't say your name - not even a pet name - just a simple 'fuck' when he came.

You point him in the direction of the trashcan where he can throw away the physical evidence of the mess you've made.

His pants are back on in a second while you remain naked on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he says. "Ashley's making dinner. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

"You're gonna go home to her?" you say, more disappointed than surprised.

"Yeah. What did you think I was going to do?"

Truly, you weren't thinking. If you were, you would not have had sex with Leon. 

"I'm surprised you're not happy. I'm gonna go spend some quality time with my wife. That was your advice - wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You're our marriage counselor. I'm just trying to fix my marriage."

"You're doing an awful job."

"I know," he says, with his hand on the doorknob. "See you on Wednesday."

[messylustt]

Jzhxjsh if can I make another request, I REALLY LOVE TOOOO MUCH YOUR WRITING AND i need jealous like i need oxygen

“ if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous ” & “ you look really pretty right now ”

only free to me — leon kennedy. ughhhh i need jealous hobie too like bdjskjdks

hobie’s gaze was locked onto the spider variant talking to you. you and hobie were seated, your gaze looking up at the arrival of someone hobie now easily can say he dislikes. hobie found himself slowly reaching out for you, his leg bent up on the long bench. and by subtly tugging at your suit you were forced to slide towards him, his legs now open around you.

his gaze never shifted from the spider variant who was earning a few too many smiles from you. and it almost felt like a relief when the spider finally got called away. you wave him off, before shifting your gaze to hobie, your smile having fallen. “what was that?”

“what was what?” hobie “innocently” asks, his fingers still not having let up their grip on your suit. you look down at his connected hand. “that.”

he looks down too, a small lazy smile edging his lips, as he rubs the material by your hip between his fingertips. “you look really pretty right now…you know that?”

you give hobie a look. you were used to this. this flirting and smirking attitude. “ha ha.” you mockingly say, turning away to continue eating.

“you think i’m joking?” he raises his brows as you glance at him again. his leg around you seems to be more prominent the closer he shifts towards you.

“you’re always joking.” you remark. hobie shakes his head “don’t believe in comedy.”

“oh, that’s right.” you chuckle, unconvinced, looking back to your food. before you can place a forkful in your mouth, hobie redirects it to his as he leans close by you. you smack his hand away, but it’s too late, your foods gone.

“really? i was looking forward to that.” you mutter, frowning. hobie makes a point to eat it slowly, savouring the taste with small sounds, resulting in you elbowing his stomach.

he slightly doubles over, laughing. and just as you go to scold him, the spider variant from before taps your shoulder. “hey, sorry i didn’t get to ask before — mission report run. but uh, are you free tonight?”

you pause, eyes slightly widening. “oh, uh…yea—“

“nah.” hobie instantly cuts in, looping his arm around your shoulder so that you press more into him. “she’s busy, sorry mate.”

you shift your gaze to hobie eyes narrowing sharply in question. “aren’t you?” he asks you raising his brows pointedly.

“no, I’m sorry, I don’t know what he’s talking about — ” you begin to say to the spider variant but hobie swiftly placed his hand over your mouth, your back now having shifted to his front, his stance now straddling the bench.

“she doesn’t wanna admit it, poor thing, but she’s sick. she’s a lil embarrassed.” hobie states, looking to the spider who is eyeing the interaction with a mixture of a nod and a confused expression. you slightly struggle against his grip, but hobie just rests his chin on your shoulder, you now practically flush against him.

“I’ve told her there’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, but ya know. she likes to keep up appearances.”

“maybe another time…then.” the spider variant suggests.

“hm.” hobie just hums, silently saying ‘no’ in his head, while he fake smiles at the poor spider until he leaves.

that’s when hobie finally let’s up his grip on your mouth, as you spin to face him. “what the hell was that?”

hobie shrugs. “no, no don’t just shrug at me.” you say pointedly. “you’ve done this before. the last time that guy asked me out. I was not sick then, and i’m not sick now.” you pause, eyes narrowing. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous.”

hobie scoffs. “jealous?”

“then explain that.” you gesture in general to the interaction before.

“he’s a dick.” hobie says. “no he’s not.” you answer easily. “he may be thick headed sometimes, but everyone here knows how nice he is. so, come on, what’s your next excuse.”

hobie’s eyes narrow as you cross your arms. you raise your brows waiting. “if you aren’t gonna say anything, then imma go apologise to him and explain that i’m free — ”

this time hobie cuts you off by tugging you closer and grabbing your chin, his lips smashing against yours. you gasp into his mouth, as you’re tipped back, your back forcing to arch as he holds you against him. his seating position made it easier to control the movements.

your seating position made it hard. hobie used that to his advantage as his hands found your waist, his lips wrapping around your lower and sucking. he then begins to slightly shake his head his lips brushing yours. “but you aren’t free…ya wouldnt wanna lie now would ya?”

you’re shocked, and all that comes out of your mouth is “but i don’t have plans tonight.”

hobie chuckles, licking at your lower lip slowly as he makes sure you stay close. “i don’t mean ‘schedule’ wise, love…” his mouth opens against your own, panting breathes mixing. “i mean you aren’t free to anyone but me…”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[vampiricgf]

Home Is Where the Heart Is

stepdad leon kennedy x stepdaughter reader

wc: 2k+

warnings: stepcest, masturbation, fingering, intoxication, creampie, hickies, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl), reader is in their twenties but he's older

I need him so bad somebody has to step up and shoot me with a tranquilizer dart or something before I become completely delusional

You sigh as the door clicks behind you, the final death kneel of yet another failed, miserable date. The sound of low, canned tv voices drifts from the living room and you feel yourself deflate even further, not wanting to have to go through the motions of telling your stepfather about yet another boring, unfulfilling date. 

Maybe I should just throw my phone in a fucking river and become a crazy hermit-

“Hey, you just get in from the date?” His voice reaches you from around the corner in the foyer and there's no avoiding it. Time to tell him yet again that his step child has basically zero prospects and is doomed to be living here until she’s an ancient crone. Surely he’ll be thrilled about the idea of having to support you forever. 

“Yeah, it was fine.” You shrug, leaning against the wooden open frame of the archway as he meets your gaze and your bag drops from your loose grasp to rest against the wood flooring. He's unfocused, a little disheveled. 

Looks like we’ve both had shit nights if hes already drinking. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he gives you a sympathetic expression, “but plenty of fish in the sea, right?” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You sigh, turning to make way for the stairs, for the refuge of your bedroom and a few solid hours of unconsciousness where you could pretend you weren’t an embarrassing, lonely burden. “Good night, dad.” 

“Night hon,” you hear from behind you as you ascend to the second floor, debating on if you should wash your face or if you could get away with skipping it for at least tonight. 

Plenty of fish in the sea, yeah easy for him to say. Even if it had always felt weird you knew your stepfather was attractive, good looking and a little mysterious with the whole government agent thing. Not even you really knew the specifics, weren’t sure if even your own mother had known at all before her passing. The sudden thought of her makes your throat tighten up and you decide that yes, you can skip the stupid skincare tonight because sometimes you just have to lay in bed miserable for a bit. 

Maybe masturbating will help, at the very least it’ll get you closer to being exhausted enough to pass out and if Leon is downstairs you don’t have to be as paranoid about noise like you are most nights. 

As you flop against the plush surface of your bed once the door shuts behind you your hand fumbles blindly at the nightstand on your right, searching for the drawer handle. With a huff you prop up on your elbow, yanking it open to reveal the sight of a sleek, glass dildo. It had been a treat purchase, something to reliably cheer you up on nights like this, of which there had been more than you cared to admit to yourself. The only thing you were really sad about, as you peeled off your shirt and slid down your jeans, was that you wasted a nice matching underwear set on no one. 

Eyes closed you let your mind drift as your hands run over your own skin, touching and teasing in just the way you enjoy, already biting your lip at the prospect of wearing yourself out on the little glass toy. But as your fingers brush over the dampness of your underwear, legs spread, you can’t help the way your mind drifts back to him. Your stepfather, all dirty blonde hair and eyes like the tides. It wasn’t fair. If you weren’t related by marriage he would be the type you’d be salivating over, desperate to drag into bed just to let him-

You failed to hear his footsteps on the stairs, failed to hear the doorknob being gripped and the heavy wood being swung open until it was too late. With a strangled cry you scramble back, hands pressed uselessly to your heaving chest, legs squeezed together and eyes wild as you stare at him in the doorway, holding your bag you’d left sitting in the open archway. 

“Oh my god dad-”

“I’m sorry, sorry, you left this and I, I figured you’d want it.” his voice trails weakly, lame, as his eyes look everywhere but at you and your skin burns with embarrassment and something else that makes your ribs feel like they’re being crushed. The secret shame of the fact that you’d been about to finger yourself to the thought of him and now here he is, in the flesh.

“Thanks but can you get out, like right now?” 

Despite your attempt at firmness the words fall flat somehow, betrayed by your still present desire and you can feel it. Feel the way his eyes now stick to you like your body is made of gummy taffy and he’s helplessly caught in the trap of it. The silence extends, growing heavy on the strange tension now gathering in the air like storm clouds. Your nerves are alight in a way that you can only describe as primal, high strung and waiting for some sign, some movement to indicate where this is going because suddenly you’re aware that you’re not the only one in control of it. 

“You’re too good for any of those guys anyway,” he speaks like a man deprived of water for hours, slightly hoarse and you can’t help the little shiver that quakes down your spine at the compliment. 

“Thanks, but… I didn’t mean for you to, you know, see.” 

“I’m sorry,” and hes stepping across the threshold and you know, you know this is descending into dangerous territory. The sort of thing you can’t come back from once it’s started. You feel your lip wobble, feel the familiar sting of tears about to gather in your waterline though from the humiliation or not is unclear. What is clear is that your stepfather at least has a semi at the moment, the slight bulge in his pants stroking your ego. “I could help you, if you want?”

You can hear it, naked desperation, and not for the first time you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You know it’s been hard, lonely, after all this time and not just for you and it’s like your body is suddenly attached to marionette strings, shyly nodding your head and uncurling from yourself. It’s strange, being so conscious now of the underwear you have on and the fact that you’d used a little of that sparkling dust stuff that makes skin look just an extra bit more tempting when it’s on display. 

You wonder if he’s ever thought of you before now, in this way. 

He lifts one knee, moving slowly, pressing down on the mattress next to your trembling legs, and his eyes don’t stop wandering your face, searching for any sign you’ve changed your mind before completely kneeling between your legs that have practically spread themselves. As one of his palms meets the blazing flesh of your thigh you can’t help the gasp that escape you, the way you reflexively move your arms to hug yourself, hide yourself again. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he says it like he’s soothing an anxiety ridden animal but it helps, the familiar affection of his voice immediately making your muscles relax minisculely. “It’s just you and me.”

And those words, just you and me, speak to the now overblown need pooling in your belly and you can’t help the way you unfurl for him, like some night blooming flower with all of it’s most tender parts exposed. The air feels balmy and thick against your skin as his hands, both now grasping your legs, run up and down your thighs in a relaxing rhythm. 

You watch as his eyes flick down to your underwear, you can feel how damp they are and you bite your lip as you see his posture shift as he takes in the sight of your barely clothed pussy, needy and already soaking the thin material. 

“What were you thinking about?” he asks as one index finger starts tracing the hemmed edge of them, barely touching where you ache for him to put his fingers. Your hips squirm in response, trying to move so that his touch will land where you need it. But he can see what you’re doing and evades your attempts, making you whine. 

“If you want me to touch you, you gotta answer.”

“Was thinking about you,” you trail off, hesitant, “I wondered if you think about me.”

Finally he gives you what you want, running his finger over your slit , pressing down right on your throbbing clit just hard enough to make you gasp, your back arching ever so slightly against the mattress. “Shit, you’re so wet.”

He doesn’t answer you and you don’t need him to, already knowing the answer would be that he has and it makes smug satisfaction practically ooze from your body as you preen under his touch. Those calloused, thick fingers slipping past the barrier of your panties, making your mouth drop open and loosely you can recognize that the situation is beyond fucked, getting fingered by your stepfather isn’t something you can just come back from when daylight breaks as if it had never occurred but for now, none of that really matters. 

All that matters is the way his fingers slip inside you so easily, curling just right against your slick walls before pumping in and out, a steady pace as his other hand rubs circles against your hip to calm your twitchy muscles. The sounds of your harsh breathing and the faintly wet squelching of your pussy makes you lightheaded, delirium dripping down the back of your throat and acting like lighter fluid for the kindling of lust inside your gut. 

It feels like you’re being scorched, branded, from the inside out as the pace of his fingers gets more rapid, his thumb pressing against your clit to make you see stars behind your squeezed shut eyes. 

You can hear yourself babbling but it feels distant, far away and dreamlike as the tether between brain and body gets yanked tighter and tighter with each pass of his fingers, unrelenting even as you writhe and gasp against the sheets. 

“Kiss me,” you manage to squeeze the demand from your lungs and he’s quick to oblige, not leave his little girl begging. As your lips pressed together in a mess of rushed teeth clicking and spit slicked movement you feel him pull his fingers from you, hurriedly pulling down his waistband just enough for his cock to spring free. 

And you’re so eager for him, hand snaking down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his shaft and the moment you do he buries his face against the side of your neck with a groan, hips jerking as your thumb smears the fat beads of precum over the tip that you’re sure must be all flushed, a pretty shade of pink. His other hand is pulling your panties to the side and you know what he’s asking for without a word, rubbing the tip through your wetness as he shudders against you, teeth scraping the delicate skin of your throat. 

Feeling bold you angle your hips upward at just the moment when he moves his hips to push through your folds, but the motion makes his tip push deliciously against your entrance, the slide made effortless by the way he’d worked your pussy just moments ago. 

The feeling of it, being so completely full of him, the way he crowded every sense from sight to sound to touch was transendant. Rapturous, like being made whole after not even realizing you’d been incomplete, not realizing there was an entire missing piece. 

And suddenly any remaining guilt you felt for this vanished, dissipated like a wisp of smoke being blown away from a freshly extinguished candle. All that mattered in the world was the present moment, the two of you in this bed and your eyes rolling back as your spine arched at the feeling of him bottoming out inside you, the way he sucked at your neck in between little nips from his incisors. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gasped against you, moving from yout neck to your lips as his hips began to move, caging your head with his forearms. 

You can’t make your mouth form words, tongue feeling heavy and useless as a wad of cotton in your mouth as you moan in response, fingers twisting into the material of his shirt as you urge him on and the edges of your mind fray with every hit of his tip against the spot you can usually only reach with the dildo in your bedside drawer. 

His rhythm is sloppy, nonsensical, but you don’t mind, not when your own fingers are circling your clit just the way you like and you can feel yourself tightening around him, feel the way your bodys pulling him back in voraciously. This was what you needed, not some random asshole from an app that wouldn’t be able to fuck you half as well, no. A part of you always knew your stepfather would take better care of you, he always has. 

“Want you to come inside, please,” you whine out and hear his little oh fuck muffled against your mouth as you swallowed down his groans like they were the finest vintage as your own orgasm rushed in, like high tide when you least expect it, flooding the shoreline in a relentless barrage. It’s not hard to tell he’s particularly powerless against the way your pussy squeezes around him, growing ever tighter like you’re trying to wring every drop from his body and gives it to you readily, eagerly, with one last harsh thrust before his balls rest heavily against your ass and hes panting, struggling for breath against you as you feel warmth spreading, flooding hot and sticky inside as you two stay locked together. 

When the sun comes up, maybe you’ll feel a modicum of shame for what happened but in this moment all you can feel is a boneless type of bliss as his arms slide underneath you, hold you tight against him in a perverse pantomime of a hug with his cock still inside you as he mumbles into your hair. 

“You’re such a good girl, always been my good girl.”

[syluscore]

Every Version of You

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

An average day, nothing noteworthy. Until someone intercepts you and your partner a week before you’re gearing up to head out for an assignment. Now there’s nothing average about today, nothing is normal anymore. You’ll never understand. Is it time travel? Is his soul broken apart and now manifesting different versions of himself? All you know is that an older version of Leon is here, insisting he had to come back to save your life with the help of a trusted few. And for some reason his younger self from when you two first met and survived Racoon City together is also here. When your Leon is swept away on a mission to rescue the president’s daughter from a cult in Spain, you’re left to try and prevent your coming death with his past and future self. When he returns, how do you confront everything that has come to the surface with the other two? Will you be able to prevent your ultimate demise? It’s going to take every version of him in order to save yourself.

~ Masterlist ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SONGS: Always - Bon Jovi and Work Song - Hozier

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART ONE: drunkenness, pining, repressed romantic feelings, death, depression, anxiety, tension, kidnapping, violence, drugging, water submersion, self-depreciation, thoughts of dying, desire to die, heartache, angst, hurt with no comfort

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS POST AND BLOG ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" ONE:

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You belt out the lyrics to the last song you remember playing in the bar before the alcohol completely took over. Despite your words slurring, you did your best to mimic the sultry rock tone of Bon Jovi.

“God, you’re so drunk,” Leon laughs as he tries to keep you up right as you make your way down the dark, city streets. 

The only other patrons on this road are other drunks. All of the businesses beyond the bar are closed up and dark. You can still hear the music from the bar thumping in the distance.The late night air is chilly, but you’re too obliterated to take much notice of the goosebumps littering your exposed skin.

“Nooooooo,” you whine at Leon. “You’re supposed to sing the next part. This is a duet, Leon, come on!”

He stares down at you with an amused look on his face. “I’m not doing a Bon Jovi duet with you at 3 am in the middle of the street.”

You pout at him, stopping in your tracks in defiance. He tries to continue pulling you along, but you hold the heels of your feet firmly in place on the cobblestone. The rough texture of the restored downtown district usually pissed you off. You were always tripping over yourself on the uneven terrain, but tonight it’s helping ground you in place. You subconsciously apologize to the ground for all the times you’ve cursed it.

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You sing the same lyric as earlier loudly, your tone absolutely atrocious. 

Leon sighs before finally giving in, replying with the next line. “Well, I guess I’m not good anymore, but baby, that’s just me.”

You squeal joyfully at his rock ballad impression before clinging to his arm again, allowing him to continue guiding you down the road.

You’re practically screaming at this point, “And I will love you, baby, always. And I’ll be there forever and a day, always.” 

Leon knows he’s lost the battle. Your drunken mind knows no ration, so he sings along with you quietly. He fights the smile threatening to overtake his face, not wanting to encourage you further.

But it’s too late. When he gave in during your small fit, that was all the motivation you needed to give the city street the performance of your life. 

As you continued singing, your hazy mind couldn’t keep track of the lyrics. Leon just shakes his head as you get the words completely wrong. 

He stuffs the warm feeling in his chest down, locking it away as he always does. He doesn’t like how endearing he finds you. The way you carry yourself so carefreely. You’re boldly and unapologetically yourself. It’s everything Leon wishes he could be. He never allows himself to think any deeper on the feelings inside of him. Nothing good ever comes from him expressing the intricacies of the branches growing and entwining deeply in his chest. 

You’ve got your claws deeply embedded into his person. He has killed for you before, many times, and he will do it again without a second thought. You’re his best friend, his partner, his twin flame, but he refuses to vocalize what you mean to him. 

The world is a shitshow filled with unspeakable horrors and ill intent. Boldly caring for anything makes you vulnerable. If you have nothing, then there isn’t anything for the world to steal from you. His life is already overly complicated. He’s merely a prop for the US government. Nothing but a tool, or more accurately a weapon. He’s the weapon they use against bioweapons. A machine that serves its intended purpose and is expected to maintain itself as it sits idly by before it’s needed again.

He finds comfort in this fact somehow. An object doesn’t need to feel or process emotions. It enables him to push down his trauma and function day to day without breaking apart at the seams. If he detaches himself from the physical world enough, going through the motions is a piece of cake. Maybe he’s not living, maybe he’s merely existing, but when he’s with you… he feels everything. He wants to stay in the secureness of being numb, safe and sound within his own walls.

He shouldn’t have agreed to hit up the bar with you tonight. But after being briefed on your next assignment, you needed to be plastered to cope with the new horrors you’d be dealing with. And the truth was Leon cared about you extensively, so he could get through tonight. He’ll drop your drunk ass off at home and then seclude himself from you until it’s time to go on your assignment together. 

“Oh fuck,” you holler as you trip over your own feet, exposed knees crashing into the ground beneath you. You hiss at the stinging of new scrapes on your skin. 

Leon crouches down and attempts to help you up, but you’re super unsteady as your legs shake underneath you. 

“We need to get your drunk ass home before you completely self-destruct.”

You giggle up at him before your eyes connect with his. Your mind goes completely blank as you soften beneath his gaze. This is what it means to get lost in someone’s eyes, it must be. The alcohol running through your system is making it hard to ignore all the pesky feelings you’re able to brush off–to stuff deep down when you’re sober.

What if he leaned down and kissed you right now? What if he finally closed the gap between the two of you? What if he completed those broken pieces of yourself and made you whole again? Finally giving into six long years worth of tension? Your eyes fall down to his plump, wet lips before rising back up to meet his stare. You subconsciously lick your lips in anticipation. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as the pace of your breathing picks up. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you want nothing more than to extinguish the flames, but in the back of your mind you know you want to ignite them further.

Neither one of you break the stare down raging between you two somewhere in the middle of this forgotten street. You could be literally anywhere and it wouldn’t make a goddamn difference. Wouldn’t change a fucking thing. But you know that’s just the loneliness and liquor talking. He’s your Leon, it’s not like that. He’s not like that. You’re not like that. Right?

You’re so lost in one another that you don’t notice the sounds and shifting air around you until it’s too late. While you were lost in your own bubble, you left yourself vulnerable and exposed to the world around you. And it seems the world took advantage of that fact.

Suddenly arms are wrapped around your cowering frame. A hand comes up and covers your mouth, muffling the startled scream tumbling from your throat.

Leon darts forward to pull the person off of you when two men you don’t recognize grab either of his arms and pull him back away from you. His elbows are flying into their sides, his nails digging into their skin. His knees and legs kicking out as he fights to break from their holds on him.

“Don’t make me do this, Leon,” a deep voice speaks to him, but it doesn’t change anything. Leon keeps fighting against them. The man lets out a heavy sigh before swinging his free arm and punching Leon hard in the face, his body instantly going limp at the impact.

You realize you’re crying and whimpering as you shake in the man’s arms. His tight grip on you hasn’t faltered for even a second. You’re powerless, a helpless feeling taking over your entire being. You have no fight in you tonight. You’re too drunk and you immediately regret allowing yourself to be in such a state.

“I’m so sorry.” The man holding you removes his hand from your mouth, but before you can say anything, there’s a stabbing pain in the side of your throat. Your eyes shoot in the direction of his arm, seeing him pulling a now empty syringe away from you. You’ve been drugged. You want to panic, but a fuzzy feeling seeps its way into your muscles and bones. Before you’ve even processed the sudden turn of events, darkness wraps around you like a blanket.

You have no choice but to allow yourself to fall into it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Waking up feels like you’re trapped underwater. The world is so far away, the only sound surrounding you being your own heart beat thrumming in your ears and the movement of the water flowing around you. Your limbs feel limp, your body weightless. The only thing you can do is allow yourself to sink into it, to embrace the sensations.

But then you begin to open your eyes.

Everything is out of focus, distorted as if looking through someone else’s glasses. You have to force yourself to blink, taking all of your energy to lift your heavy eyelids. 

You can’t help it. You let them fall shut again. Even with your eyes closed, it feels like the world is spinning around you, but at least the ache behind your eyelids stops.

You almost give yourself back over to sleep. Almost. 

You feel hands gripping your arms, shaking you. You assume the person is trying to wake you up and you try to force yourself up, but your blood feels thick in your veins. That under water feeling growing inside your body as well. The feeling is almost peaceful so you cling to it.

The memories start to trickle into your brain that feels like it’s vibrating inside of your skull.

You shoot your eyes open and look down, attempting to focus your eyes as you force yourself to blink rapidly. You feel so fucking high and there’s nothing you can do other then beg yourself to please come down. Even as your eyes start to focus, your brain feels trapped behind a barrier and you still can’t get any appendage attached to this useless body to just move.

This isn’t working. You close your eyes again, instead focusing on your breathing. In, hold, then out. In, hold, then out. Rinse, lather, repeat. You can feel your lungs expanding and retracting over and over in your chest; the feeling has your anxiety rising.

But it’s finally working. Somehow, some way, the anxiety is awakening your nerves and pushing the drugged out feeling away. 

It probably takes twenty or thirty minutes to come back to yourself enough to comprehend what’s happening around you, but it finally does. And what you see has you feeling even more high.

You’re laying on some dingy, old couch. The room around you is dark and dank. It’s somewhere between a basement and a dungeon. The more you look around, the more you think it’s more dungeon leaning. 

You slowly manage to sit yourself up, using every ounce of strength you have to achieve it. You take more deep breaths before pushing yourself up, barely managing to steady yourself as you stand and your knees threaten to give out beneath you. More deep breaths and your head stops spinning, allowing you to open your eyes again. 

The room is small;  just the couch, a lamp, and a door. 

A few shaky paces forward and you’re at the door. Up close, you can see that the old door isn’t closed all the way. Placing one hand on the door frame for balance, you reach forward with the other slowly pushing the door open. And what you see has your head reeling more than the drugs.

This room is much larger than the previous one, the high ceilings nearly three times higher than the previous. Two men stand at a control panel surrounding a large tank of… water? It looks like bubbly, murky, thickened water. Another man stands away from the others, looking lost and out of place in a shadowy corner of the room.

But those are the least concerning elements. What has you screaming out in shock is the man up on the metal platform above the tank holding an unconscious Leon in his arms. It looks like he’s moments from dropping Leon into the mysterious vat of liquid and it has panic overtaking your system.

Every man in the room's attention darts to you at your sudden outburst.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a man with a thick accent speaks from the control panel.

“What are you doing to him? What the fuck is going on?” You wheeze out. The room grows silent except for your heavy breathing and the weird humming noises coming from inside the tank.

Adrenaline takes over, your survival instincts kicking in as you rush towards the tank, ready to do anything to get Leon away from this death trap.

You throw yourself at the ladder attached to the platform above the tank, ready to do whatever it takes to save him. But large muscular arms wrap around you, trapping your arms at your side.

You kick and scream, anything to break free of his grasp, but to no avail. He’s so much larger than you. Even without the drugs lingering in your system, you’re still not sure you’d stand a chance against him. You’re the damsel in distress, nothing but a sitting duck waiting for your hero to come rescue you.

But the ever dependable hero is in immediate danger, mere feet above his ultimate demise. 

“You ready?” The accented man speaks to the man above the tank.

“Whenever you are.” A gruff voice responds from above. 

The accented man starts counting backwards from ten as the other man starts to move Leon towards the edge, ready to toss him in like nothing but a rag doll.

You’re screaming, pleading, begging them to stop. You’re in hysterics and all of the men ignore you. No one even bothers to spare you a second glance.

You’re completely helpless. You can’t save him. You’ve failed him as you always do. You know if it was you in his position, he’d have saved you effortlessly. He’d never allow you to die like this. He’d never allow you to die at all, but you can’t return that simple fucking favor. 

Please let me be next. Throw me in after him. I could never live knowing I allowed him to die as if he was nothing. He’s everything. If I can’t save him, take me with him. I’ll follow him even in death. What’s a world without Leon Kennedy? I don’t want to know, please don’t make me know.

Your heart shatters as you watch Leon’s limp body fall into the vat of liquid. The man at the control panel flips a giant lever and the liquid glows. The light from the tank is blinding as the man holding you releases you to cover his own eyes. 

You’ve always been a coward and you refuse to be as your best friend dies in front of you. You force your eyes to stay open through the excruciating pain burning in them. 

But then as quickly as it appeared, the light disappears. The man on the platform has collapsed, unconscious above the tank. And weirdly enough, the man lingering in the shadows has collapsed as well. 

You can’t stop the tears as they fall down your face, a sob breaking through your lips as the realization sets in. The tank is empty. Leon is no longer inside.

Did they fucking incinerate him?

You fall to your knees as you shake, your entire body crumbling as the situation truly sets in.

I’m so sorry, Leon. I’m sorry for being such a useless piece of fucking shit. Wherever you are, reach through to me and smite me dead with you. Drag me to the other side with you. Don’t make me stay in a world where you don’t exist. 

I’ll never let you down again. I’ll remind you every day how much you fucking mean to me. You can’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. There’s no me without you. 

You’ve always been larger than this world, Leon, but it’s nothing without you. The world was never worthy of you, and neither was I. But don’t fucking leave me. There’s so many things I haven’t said, too many things I haven’t said. And I’ll forever hate myself for it. 

If your heart isn’t beating, then mine doesn’t deserve to beat either. I’ll rip the fucking thing from my chest to follow you wherever you are now. It beats for you and I think it always has, since the day I fucking met you. 

If not this life then I’ll be yours in the next. I won’t be stupid anymore, I fucking swear it Leon.

I love you Leon Scott Kennedy. I fucking love you. 

And the afterlife can’t fucking have you. I know you and I know that you can look God in the face and fight, kicking and screaming, your way back to me. It’s not your time. All the time in the world would never be enough time to spend with you.

So you bring your ass straight back here and I’ll fall to my knees, devote my life to you. I’ll pray to you if it’s what you ask of me. You are my purpose and there is no meaning to this bullshit life without you in it.

I never got the chance to properly and loudly love you. Never got the chance to show you I love you. You left this world not knowing how much you were loved. And none of it is right. I’ll burn this world down for you, Leon. I don’t care if you want me to or not. This place will not go on without you. I promise, my love. 

If you don’t come back to this world, there will be no world for any mother fucker to ever come back to. No one is more worthy than you and I’ll never allow them to feel as if they are. As if any mortal soul could ever begin to compare.

You’re supposed to stay with me to the end. This can’t be the end. Is this the end? I refuse to accept this ending. I’ll rewrite the whole fucking book until it’s structured around nothing but your happy ending, Leon.

Leon. Not my Leon. I’ve lost you before you were even mine to lose. You left without knowing I’m yours.

[dollfacefantasy]

And If the Sun Comes Up

pairing: vampire!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon knows that you and him are meant to be. if the only way to show you that is to sneak in during the night, then that's just what he'll have to do.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, somnophilia, non-con, biting, blood, reader is tied up, spitting in mouth, overstimulation

word count: 4k

a/n: hey everyone. when he fucks u so good, u think u love him, am i right? i wanted to get one more done for halloween and i'm kinda late, but it's still halloween here so idgaf. i hope everyone enjoys. also i'm trying a new style with the header image so yeah. as always i really appreciate reblogs and comments <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz

i made a playlist of songs i listened to while writing here.

It’s the middle of the night with moonlight shining down through the slits in your blinds. You’re sleeping off a stressful week tonight. You lay between your soft blankets with your head resting on your cool pillow. You had been in a peaceful, dreamless slumber, but now whimpers erupted from your unconscious form as you felt a persistent sensation between your legs.

You still aren’t fully awake. Your eyes briefly flutter, and your hips shift, trying to alleviate the disturbance that was disrupting your rest. A long whine escapes your throat as cold hands wrap around the tops of your thighs and keep you in position.

You gasp softly as your mind struggles to differentiate dream from reality. When you try to close your legs, you’re met with resistance. You start to come to as your limbs tug more forcefully on whatever was keeping them spread. You could vaguely feel the sensation of restraints around your ankles. It’s difficult to see in the darkness of your bedroom, but you can hear something unfamiliar. Soft grunts and groans emanate from the bottom of your bed.

You weakly lift your head to figure out what was happening. Your eyes were still sleepy, and your mind was still fogged from returning to lucidity, but you could still recognize the sensation of someone lapping at your cunt like it was their final meal.

Looking down between your thighs, you see a mop of blonde hair. At first, the sight brings you mere confusion. It didn’t make sense, and you struggled to process it. But as the gears in your brain began sliding into place, terror coursed through your veins.

A strangled cry leaves your lips, and you thrash harder to get away. You realize your arms are bound too, connected together by your wrists that were secured at the level of your navel. The adrenaline in your system makes you much more alert. You could now see the long, toned body of this stranger. He wore tight, black clothing that allowed you to see his definition. His strength was obvious from that alone if you couldn’t already feel it from how he held you in place so easily.

Once he notices you’re awake, his head pops up. Your eyes widen as they connect with his piercing irises through the dark. Fear moves through you in sickening waves. Every cell in your body yearns for him to just get away.

“Shhh, sweet one. It’s alright,” he whispers. He rubs his fingertips on your inner thigh in an attempt to soothe you. His voice is husky yet familiar, and his eyes are glazed over with arousal. From what it looked like, he had been doing this for a while.

You don’t stop squirming. Your heart pounds so erratically that it feels like at any moment you’ll go into cardiac arrest. As your breathing picks up and becomes shallow, your cries become breathless. 

His brows furrow momentarily at your response, but then his expression softens. You felt like you recognized him, but you couldn’t be sure.

“My darling, there’s no reason to be afraid,” he says and presses a few small kisses to your thigh, “Calm yourself. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You’re still so freaked out by the fact that this is even happening that your brain fails to formulate a response. You stare at him in horror as your squirming becomes weaker and your muscles begin to freeze out of fright.

“Good girl,” he whispers and caresses your hip, “This is for your pleasure, angel. Just relax. I know I may have startled you, but there’s no need to carry on.”

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your clit causing you to softly yelp in both protest and pleasure. He chuckles and pulls his face back. His thumb begins lazily swiping through your folds, up and down. As soon as he cracks that smile, you’re able to place him.

“Leon?” you ask, your voice still raspy from sleep. Your drowsy mind couldn’t figure out why the man you’d seen only in passing at your job as a waitress was eating you out in your bedroom in the dead of night.

“Yes, beloved?” he answers, looking up at you with genuine curiosity as if nothing was off.

Now that you know the identity of your mysterious trespasser, your fear fades, and anger takes its place.

“Leon, what the fuck? What are you doing? And what are you doing here?” you say, your voice wavering. You try to stay focused and not let yourself be distracted by his thumb sliding around your slick. He doesn’t seem too fazed by your reaction.

“What does it look like I’m doing, pretty baby?” he whispers, “Making you feel good. You had a hard week, little doll. Let me make it better. Then I’ll explain.”

With that, he returns his head to the junction of your thighs. He parts his lips and begins making out with your pussy. Your eyes widen at his words, but the feeling of his tongue on your most intimate spot pushes your protests back down your esophagus. Instead, you whimper and take your lip between your teeth.

Erotic, wet noises from his lips and tongue working on your cunt spill out into the bedroom. Your cheeks heat with the shame of how good it felt, but there was really nothing you could do but take it. His tongue circles and laves at your clit with intense dedication before gliding down and fucking into your dripping hole.

His fingertips trace soothing circles onto the soft skin of your thighs while his mouth continues working you to the edge. He starts grunting again like he had been doing when you were sleeping. From the sounds alone, it seemed like he was getting as much pleasure from this as you. His breathing was heavy. You could feel it fanning across your pelvis.

You whine, your physical resistance dying down as release gets closer. You can feel his smug grin against your skin.

“L-Leon…” you stammer out through moans.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Let it feel good. Your body knows it’s right. It knows what you need.”

He flicks his tongue on your swollen bud a few more times before you come undone. You jerk and spasm against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. Broken whimpers fall from your lips as your head fogs with the euphoria of release.

He watches from below with wonder. “There you go, pretty girl,” he breathes while thumbing your clit, “Give it all to me. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You ride out your release on his tongue. When you finish up, you look down at him with half-lidded eyes. He continues to gaze up at you with a look of love, his pupils dilated and his chin covered with your arousal.

“Leon. Explain,” you say, trying to sound firm, but your voice was hazy from your release.

“Why so many questions, little one? Did that not feel good?” he asks, “Did that not feel like everything you needed?”

“Leon. What are you doing in my house at three in the fucking morning… touching me like that?” you say, your voice picking up some of the intensity you initially intended.

He sighs and shakes his head, but still sports that smug smile. “You’ll see in time, my love. I know you’ll feel it too,” he says.

My love. Those two words struck you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. All these weird pet names. You barely knew him. He was always nice to you, but in a cordial kind of way, remembering your name and little things you’d told him about your day when you gave him his order. You weren’t even friends. You definitely didn’t consider yourself to be his love.

“Feel what? What are you talking about? You sound crazy,” you say.

“You’re my mate, sweet one,” he responds. He looks at you as if it’s a fact and speaks as if this was the most normal conversation, like you weren’t tied up and nude from the waist down.

You blink at him in disbelief. The words ring through your mind.

“Your mate?” you repeat incredulously, the only response you could think of.

“My mate,” he confirms, “I know you can’t understand it now. But you will. I’ll-”

“I barely know you!” you raise your voice, “Just cause I smile at you and can remember your order that doesn’t mean I want to fuck you! And it sure as Hell doesn’t mean we’re mates.”

He remains calm as he continues to speak. “You may not know me, but I know you, sweetheart. I love you, but you aren’t the most observant. I’ve been watching, and I know we’re meant to be. I know it’s right for you.”

The thought of him watching you while you went about your life, clueless as ever, disturbed you to the pit of your stomach, but you tried not to let that show. 

“Oh my God, you’re delusional. Fucking delusional. You think we’re soulmates? Like what? Like we’re written in the stars or something?” you mock.

“No, darling. Not written in the stars. It’s written in our DNA, something tying us together. I can sense it. You have the sweetest smelling blood I’ve ever come across.”

Your eyes widen at his explanation.

“What… What are you talking about? You can’t smell my blood, Leon,” you say.

“If only I couldn’t, maybe then I wouldn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice growing more hushed, “But I can. You have to understand, little love. I’m not a man of normal appetites.”

The way he spoke freaked you out. Various horrific ideas ran through your head about what he meant by unusual appetites. Your anger was slowly exiting, and your fear was seeping back in. Your limbs tremble as you try again to pull yourself out of your bindings.

“Sweetheart, all throwing a tantrum will do is tire you out,” he chides, "And while it’s not required, I would prefer if you were conscious to see how good I can make you feel.”

“You’re fucking insane!” you exclaim with a shaky voice, tears of terror pricking at your eyes, “I don’t know what gave you this sick fantasy that we’re true love and meant to be or whatever. But that’s all it is. Leon, I-”

“Enough,” he says, his voice dropping to a more commanding tone, “If you’re not willing to understand, I’ll just have to make you more agreeable.”

With that, his mouth returns to your cunt. He sucks your clit between his lips and flicks his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. One hand holds your thigh like it was before while the other comes between your legs and prods at your entrance.

You’re whimpering in no time, still being tender from your previous release. Your hips squirm and writhe as he pumps two fingers in and out of you.

“Quit moving,” he growls and tightens his grip on your thigh.

The gravelly harsh tone lights the pool of arousal in your belly like a match falling into gasoline. You clamp around his fingers and mewl softly. A sharp exhale leaves his nose and smirks.

“Good baby, deep down you know you want this. You’ve only had my fingers so far, and she already knows to get nice and tight for me,” he breathes before returning his attention to your pussy.

His fingers continue working you open, scissoring inside your hole as they move back and forth. The whole time he relentlessly plays with your clit, flicking, sucking, circling. Short, strained cries come from you as your back arches off the bed.

“There we go, pretty baby. Cum again for me,” he purrs, “I doubt you’ve been with a guy who could make you cum even once.”

You didn’t even fully register his words because you were so wrapped up in the throes of ecstasy. Your body convulses as release washes over you again. You shiver in waves, whining and babbling as he continues pleasuring you through the high.

As you come down, he doesn’t ease up on you. His fingers tease you a bit before applying enough pressure to overstimulate you. He adds a third finger into you and continues maneuvering them skillfully, hitting all the right spots.

His mouth doesn’t stop either. He spits onto your pussy and dives back in, licking up your slick and flattening his tongue to massage you into bliss.

He brings you at least two more peaks, eating you out until your mind is nearly melted and you’re a whining, drooling, nonsensical mess.

When he finally feels that you’ve had enough, he moves up, coming face to face with you in a blur. You flinch at the quick movement, and draw a chuckle from him. His hand wraps around your throat while his eyes give you a predatory scan. He lowers his head to the crook of your neck and inhales deep.

“Smells like cherries,” he mutters before laying a few soft kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

You shiver at the gentle contact and a quiet whine escapes you. Your nipples are hard beneath your top from the countless highs he brought you and the fluttering of his lips against your skin. It’s not long before his other hand is sliding up your body to squeeze and fondle your breasts, his thumb teasingly swiping across the hardened buds a few times.

“I don’t need you to understand this, my love. I don’t expect you to. It’s a little out of your depth anyways,” he whispers and nips at your earlobe, “What I expect is for you to take it like a good girl and let me show you what you need. I think you can already see that you’ll be begging for more by the end of the night whether you understand it or not.”

Your thoughts are too muddled to formulate an actual response. Instead, you just watch him with your blissed out stare. He leans back and pulls off his shirt, exposing his muscular torso and chest to you. The moonlight coming through the blinds illuminates him just enough for you to feel more desire building in your abdomen. He smiles at your impressed reaction, and that’s when you see it.

He has fangs.

It’s only a glimpse, but you would swear on your life that it was the truth. His canines are clearly sharper than normal, it can’t be your imagination. And with all his talk about blood… You felt like you were losing it. There was no way he made you cum so hard that you’d believe in vampires.

“What is it, precious?” he asks softly as he undoes his belt and starts lowering his pants. His tone projects innocence, but the look on his face makes you think he knows exactly what you’re fixated on.

“Nothing, I- I- it’s-” you stutter. Your jaw almost drops as his hard cock springs free from his boxers. It was long and thick and you weren’t even sure that it would fit.

He climbs on top of you again, his strong, thick arms boxing you in on your bed.

“What’s the matter? Like what you see? Or is it that you don’t think I have a pretty smile?” he asks, flashing his teeth again. The fangs are in clear view now. Their existence is undeniable.

He can hear your heartbeat speeding up and your breathing getting shallow. It brings him a twisted sense of pleasure that he doesn’t dwell on. He lazily strokes himself in preparation to enter you.

“What are you? You… you can’t be…” you say, your voice dropping to nearly a whisper.

“A vampire?” he asks, “That’s probably the term easiest for you to understand, so yes, my little doll. I am a vampire.”

Your eyes widen. Your fearful gaze locks onto him.

“It’s not like a movie, baby. I can eat garlic and clearly I don’t need to be invited into your house,” he explains, almost as if he’s trying to lighten the mood, “But I have a bloodlust.”

You’re stunned. This couldn’t be real. “So what? I’m like your personal blood bank or something? Is that what being your mate is?”

“No,” he scoffs, “Being my mate is what it sounds like, angel. In all my years, I’ve never met another who makes me feel like you do. You’re my love, the light in the darkness I’ve been existing in. My personal heaven and hell wrapped into one perfect vessel.”

Your head is spinning with everything you’re hearing. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before leaning back onto his knees and positioning himself at your entrance. He stares at you with his eyes, glossed over with lust. He reaches for your confined hands and brings them to his lips.

“It will all make sense soon, darling,” he says, “Soon enough we’ll be together in this.”

He takes one of your fingers into his mouth, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. One of his fangs presses into the pad of your finger, and draws a small drop of blood. You wince at the pain, but you’re quickly distracted by the guttural groan Leon emits as he smooths his tongue against the warm liquid.

He pushes inside you and tilts his head back. Your finger slips out of his mouth and smears some blood on his lips.

“Tastes so fucking sweet too, Christ,” he grunts as he begins thrusting.

Despite the circumstances, he felt good. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it was the best you ever had. He filled you up perfectly. A string of whines and whimpers expel from your mouth into a long moan.

“That’s right. You know it’s perfect,” he mutters, “Soon, it will be just me and you. For all of eternity. No one else. The entire world could burn, and you and I could fuck on top of the ashes.”

Your own head falls back, and he sucks your finger back into his mouth to taste more of your blood. He moans around your digit, his hips beginning to piston with more intensity. His hands lock onto your hips, so he has a firm grip to slam into you with.

You felt a mix of shame and fear, but you started to believe him. You felt something inside you that told you this was right. This was what you longed for. What you needed.

He starts leaning over you more. He had to see you, had to see your mind changing about him, the look in your eyes shifting from fear to lust. One of his hands rises to hold your jaw and direct you to look at him.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, eyes boring into you.

You do it with no hesitation. Your lips part and your tongue lolls out obediently. He smirks, still rolling his hips as he slowly spits into your open mouth. His saliva leaks from his lips, lands on your tongue, and starts sliding to your throat. The feeling combined with that look in his eyes almost made you cum on its own.

He feels the same. Watching your pretty eyes become unfocused as you accept what’s happening had him digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheeks in order to hold on. Once he felt you had enough he pats your cheek.

“Swallow,” he grunts and reverts his primary focus to fucking you into the mattress.

And you do this too. You swallow it all. A garbled moan erupts from you afterwards, and your eyes roll back as he strokes all the sweet spots inside of you.

“Good girl,” he coos with a low tone, “Taking it perfectly. Just like you’re meant to do.”

You lift your arms and loop your bound wrists over his head to pull him closer. He follows your guidance, but his face looks almost pained. He keeps his face further than you want. You whimper and try to pull him down to the crook of your neck more.

“Sweet baby, you have to be careful. I can’t… I have to make sure you’re safe my love. I don’t know if I can control myself if I’m that close,” he breathes.

“What? Control how?” you babble, still not really focused because of how his cock is battering your insides at the moment.

“Your blood, baby. It’s too strong. I won’t be able to hold back. I could hurt you,” he says.

That almost snaps you back to reality for a moment. “Like what? You wanna bite me?” you ask with a curious expression.

For a change, this time he has no words. He nods, still maintaining eye contact.

It wasn’t your smartest moment, but you don’t hesitate as the words leave you.

“Do it.”

His eyes flash with a look you can’t read in your state.

“Sweetheart, I… I want to, but it’s not safe,” he whispers, but you can hear the desire in his voice.

“If we’re really mates then you should be able to stop yourself. Prove it to me. Prove that I’m yours and you’re mine,” you say, your voice taking on a whiny quality from how close you were getting.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist when you were asking for it like this. He slowly lowers himself to be level with your neck. His thrusts become slower but deeper. He takes another deep breath of that scent before baring his teeth and sinking them into your flesh.

You gasp and pull your arms around him as you feel the punctures. At first it hurts, but then he begins to softly suck, coaxing your blood into his mouth. You both let out simultaneous moans. His eyes flutter now and his grip on your hips tighten.

He’s getting lost in his own world of euphoria now as he feeds off of you, gulping down that sweet, hot liquid. You tremble as pleasure courses through you too. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It was light and airy while being grounding and all consuming. You couldn’t hold on for any longer.

He growls as you cum, the feeling of your cunt latching onto him is almost too much. He manages to hold it together for a handful more thrusts. His breathing is rough as he cums and his thrusts are sporadic. You feel his muscles tensing as he groans into your neck. He spills rope after rope of cum into you.

When you’re both done, both of your bodies are trembling. Your sweaty skin is pressed to his which is still ice cold. He goes limp on top of you, breathing deep as he comes down from the high. You could feel blood trickling down your neck as his mouth disconnects from your throat.

You didn’t know what to say. The fog of lust was clearing and while you didn’t regret your decisions, this was still weird. You remove your arms from him, and he takes that as a signal to pull out and roll off of you.

He pushes his disheveled hair out of his face and gives you a crooked smile. His mouth was still red with your blood. He reaches over and starts untying the restraints around your hands. You watch him quietly.

“So you said soon… we’ll be in this together?” you ask awkwardly.

He lets out a short laugh as he gets the bindings off and drops them to the side. He runs his fingers through your hair and kisses your forehead before getting out of your bed.

“Soon, sweet one, I’ll change you to be like me. A vampire,” he says, using a teasing tone for the last word, “But not yet. I know you’re not ready, and my goal isn’t to scare you. I truly love you.”

You just nod because you honestly didn’t know what to say to that. Even if you felt something for him, you wouldn’t say it was love. Yet. 

You watch him put on his clothes as you reach down to start untying your ankles.

“So… you’re just leaving?” you say, almost sounding disappointed.

“Yes but don’t be too sad, my love. You’ll see me as soon as the sun sets again tonight,” he says.

He finishes putting on his clothes and leans in to give you one more passionate kiss before he leaves. You could still taste your blood on him.

[drabblesandimagines]

Traditions

Leon Kennedy x reader Established relationship, fluff, one lil' swear

You look forlornly at the box of Christmas decorations you’d brought out of the top of the cupboard in anticipation of tomorrow, sat prominently in the middle of the living room, and back down at the text you’d received a few moments ago from Leon.

LSK, 3:28pm: Been held up, sweetheart. Trying to get this wrapped up ASAP but I’m not going to be back tonight. Forgive me? x

It’s silly to be upset, you know that, especially Leon’ll be frustrated enough as it is that they’re making him stay there longer. You flop back on the sofa, take a breath and type out a reply.

No forgiveness necessary, silly. I know it’s not your fault. Be safe x

It was going to be your first Christmas in the new, shared apartment that you’d picked out together for the next big stage of your relationship. Leon hadn’t come with a huge amount of personal effects – a shoebox of letters and photographs had been the sum of anything sentimental amongst the usual boxes of clothes, shoes, bedsheets and towels. You, on the other hand, had come in with a fair bit more, including one solely filled with Christmas decorations.

You'd been sat on the living room floor nearly ten months ago now, unpacking one of your several boxes, a few of them set aside to be deposited in different rooms to tackle, which Leon had graciously been working his way through.

“Where do you want this one, sweetheart?”

You looked up, deciphering the initials you’d hastily written in permanent marker in the corner. “Oh, can you put that one in the top of the hall cupboard, please?”

He nodded, bending with his back rather than lifting from his knees and grunted, not expecting it to be as heavy as it was.

“What’s in here – weights?”

You smiled, sheepishly, getting up to your feet. “Christmas decorations. We don’t have to use all of them, I thought we could combine, you know? Decorations and traditions.”

He looked down at the sealed box, seeming embarrassed as you walked over to him. “That’s okay. Never really did much for Christmas myself, so I'm happy with whatever you wanna do for both, sweetpea."

You stood up on your tip-toes, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Well, we can get some new ones too – together.”

That had been the plan for tomorrow on the rare, overlapping day off for the two of you in a busy December. You had a whole itinerary in mind, jam-packed with your favourite festive activities that you were excited to share with Leon, see which ones he was taken with so you could start making your own joint traditions going forward. You move the box to the place you’d cleared for the tree, before sitting down on the sofa. You check your phone – no response – and lean forward for the remote control instead, switching on a tacky Christmas movie as a distraction.

--

You didn’t hear from Leon again that night, which wasn’t unusual if he was in the thick of things, and there was no text or missed call when you awoke in the morning. You’d showered, dressed and were in the kitchen, making a coffee to warm you up on the chilly morning – a very picturesque dusting of snow had fell overnight - when you heard the jangle of keys in the front door. In walked Leon, his suit crinkled, looking tired but smiling immediately at the surprised look on your face.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

“Leon!” You walked over to him as he dropped his duffel bag on the floor with a thud, opening his arms wide to greet you, only for you to yank him forward by his jacket to kiss him.

He slips his arms around your waist, kissing you back in return, though there’s a smirk on his lips when you pull back, “That welcome home makes the red-eye I caught entirely worth it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way back?”

He shrugs, swallowing down a yawn. “Didn’t wanna wake you – knew you’d got the whole day planned." He knew you'd been itching to decorate for Christmas with him, letting it slip that you usually had everything up by the evening of December 1st. "Lemme grab a shower, change out of this suit and then you can tell me what’s first on the agenda, hm?”

“Oh. No,” you shake your head, feeling foolish. “You must be exhausted after everything, as well as travelling through the night. We can just relax today, don’t worry about that stuff – it was a silly idea, really.”

“Uh-uh, I’ve been looking forward to it. Hell, it’s the reason why I got the red-eye.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He presses a kiss against your forehead before picking his bag back up. “Save me some coffee?”

“Okay.” You can’t help the smile that breaks across your face as he heads through to the bedroom. “Oh, be sure to dress warm!”

--

“A Christmas tree farm, huh?” Leon reads the sign with a grin, pulling the Jeep into the parking lot. You’d wanted to drive but he was a little nervous of you behind the wheel on the snowy roads. He’d been a good sport though, following the directions you’d programmed into the sat nav dutifully and not questioned where you were going, as you were adamant it remained a surprise.

“Yeah.” You nod, enthusiastically. Leon swears you’ve been bouncing your leg in excitement the whole drive. “We walk through, choose our perfect tree, cut it down and then we take it home.”

“How do we know which one is our perfect tree?”

“We’ll just know when we see it.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and jump out the Jeep, ready to sprint right down to the entrance when Leon grabs hold of your arm, spinning you around to face him.

“Hold on, sweetpea.” He fussed, tugging your hat further down around your ears with gloved fingers. “There. Don’t want you getting sick for your favourite holiday.”

“Thank you.” You smile, lacing your fingers with his and pulling him down the slope towards the tree farm. There’s a wheelbarrow of saws as you enter which you leave Leon to choose his preference – you know he’ll want to do the grand honours – as you grab a sledge to aid with tree retrieval before heading out the forest itself.

“Okay, so as a total tree novice, what are we looking for in particular?”

“Something that’s not too small but not too big, nice shape to it, isn’t already half-dead, has a good smell to it…” You trail off, stopping in front of one that seemed a good size. This first area is a little sparse, only a handful of trees left in the ground but there’s a good acre to explore.

“Smell?”

“That’s half the fun of having a real one – the smell.” You give the tree a gentle shake to find it loses quite a few needles, and turn away to find Leon watching you, intently, resting the saw on his shoulder.

“Like the car air freshener?”

“Kinda, but ten times better when it’s not artificial.” You loop your arm through his. “Come on, plenty more trees to see.”

You enter the next area where it’s more of a thicket, trees of various heights and widths and Leon feels a little overwhelmed at the choice. He hangs back, watching you in your element – slowly walking past each tree to first check if it meets your height criteria and if it does, then looking at it from various angles, hands on your hips, tilt your head before giving a branch or two an experimental shake.

He begins to take note of ones you linger on, getting an idea of what you’re looking for in particular. It’s part of his job after all – observing targets, memorizing certain details. He walks on a little further, scrutinizing each tree in turn before, shaking the branch to see how many needles cast off. After a half a dozen, he stops in front of one, mimicking your head tilt from before, giving a few of the branches a shake and steps back.

“Sweetheart, whatcha think of this one?”

“Hm?” You turn in the direction of his voice, locating him amidst the green before trudging over, looking at the tree in question. He watches, silently, as you go through the motions before turning back to him with a smile so bright he swears it makes his heart skip a beat.

“It’s perfect! You’re a natural.”

“Had a good teacher.”

--

Tree secured safely to the top of the Jeep, you’d pushed Leon into the tree farm’s shop next, a treasure trove of Christmas decorations both classic and tacky and told him to pick up whatever he liked the look of. He’d been quite taken with the rustic wooden decorations – trees, sleighs, woodland animals – and a tin one of a motorcycle, and you’d chosen a standard box of baubles together in colours you’d liked. From there, it was back to the apartment, thankfully the two of you plus tree fit in the elevator, before Leon nipped back down to the Jeep for the new pot and bag of Christmas decorations.

You’d pulled him into the bedroom upon his return, presenting him with plaid pyjama bottoms, a black t-shirt and a Santa hat.

He’d held it between two fingers. “Seriously, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hm.” You nodded, pulling out a pair of reindeer antlers on a headband from behind your back. “Or this.”

He pulled the hat over his head without further complaint.

Between the two of you, now both donned in your pyjamas and festive headgear, and another made-for-TV Christmas film playing in the background on the widescreen, you managed to get the tree situated in its new home for the season before you dived into your box, pulling out a ball of tangled fairy lights and dropping it in his lap.

“Another Christmas tradition you need to experience is untangling the lights.”

He balances it in his palm, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “How about just putting them away properly?”

“I do – always end up like that.” You shrug, getting to your feet.

“Right, and whilst I’m doing this, what will you be doing?”

You lean over the back of the sofa, press a kiss to his crown. “Making you a hot cocoa with all the trimmings. Good luck!”

--

You watch as Leon stretches up and places the star atop the tree – it’s a smidge crooked, but you love it all the same. You’d spent the last hour wrapping it in lights and tinsel, before nestling new and old decorations upon the branches.

You bend down and switch the lights on, illuminating the tree in all its glory. “Perfect,” you declare, before you close your eyes for a moment, bite your lip in thought as Leon watches on with interest.

“What was that about?” He pulls you into his side, wrapping an arm tight around your waist.

“What was what?”

“Closed your eyes there, looked like you were deep in thought.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “It’s silly – my grandfather said to make a wish after you put the star on top of the tree and switch on the lights and then, with some Christmas magic, it would come true.”

“Really?”

“Mm. Give it a go.” You elbow him in the side, teasingly.

“Nah, it won’t work.” He shakes his head.

“Well, not with that attitude.”

“No,” he twirls you round in front of him then, cups your cheek and kisses you, softly. “It won’t work because my Christmas wish has already come true.”

“Okay, I need to dial back on your exposure to Hallmark Christmas movies cos that was cheesy as heck.”

He shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your cheek with a smug look on his face. “You love it.”

“I love you.” You correct, placing your hands on his chest. “Thank you for indulging me all day.”

“Love you more, sweetheart. However, there is one tradition I do have for this time of year that I’d like to share with you.”

“Really? You said you didn’t have any.”

“Mm.” He pulls you back with him onto the sofa, nestling you into his lap and presses a button on the remote control – the DVD player whirring into action.

“Leon Scott Kennedy,” you start with fake indignation, “are you telling me you have a favourite Christmas movie?”

Leon presses a kiss to your temple before he moves his lips to your ear to whisper with a smirk.

“Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker.”

--

Silly, festive nonsense. Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[lipglossanon]

Day 28

Kink: Blood

Pairing: Ghostface!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blood, killer!Leon, stalking, noncon, humiliation, dirty talk, blood, violence, bodily harm (Leon takes a knife to readers body in a very unsexy way), unprotected sex, creampie; Leon is not a nice guy in this 👌

not proofread

Your mom calls you up and talks you into taking your cousin out trick or treating.

It’d be so nice and little Lucy would be over the moon to see you! No one’s able due to other commitments, and wouldn’t it be nice to come home and visit for a while? 

Rolling your eyes, you pull into the driveway of your childhood home and out of your own reverie. There’s only a few plastic pumpkins sitting on the porch near the front door. 

“Way to get into the spirit,” you mutter, boot nudging a grinning gourd until it nearly tips over. 

“Oh, you’re here!”

The front door swings open and your mom pulls you into a hug. 

“Told you I would be,” you pat her back before stepping away. 

“I know,” she wrings her hands, eyes darting around nervously. “Let’s get inside.”

She tugs your bicep and once you’ve stepped over the threshold, she locks the door. 

“Can’t be too careful,” she gives you a wan smile. “Let’s talk in the living room.”

Her nervous energy carries over with her, leg bouncing after she sits on the couch with the tv playing low in the background. She points at the screen with the remote as you sit down, the volume blaring to life. 

“As reported by RCLN, the police have confirmed the death of four citizens. Sources say this could be the work of a killer much like authorities saw in Woodbridge years prior. Local county officials have issued a city wide curfew beginning at 10:00 PM—“

The blonde news reporter goes mute as your mom silences the TV. 

“There’s been a lot of worry, so if you don’t feel comfortable taking Lucy out, we would all understand,” she says, eyes serious. 

“She has to be dropped off by eight tonight, right? That’s plenty of time for me to take her and then be back home before curfew,” you assure her. “Besides, I’ll stick to the streets closest to the police station.”

Relief and worry flitter over her features, “If you’re sure.”

“I am. And I’ll turn my phone tracking on as well as share my location,” you wiggle your phone at her. “And I’ll text you as soon as I’m home.”

Sighing, she looks like she ages ten years before wiping her face and reverting back to her usual self. 

“Right, okay,” she claps her hands. “Well, I need to head off, got the late shift tonight.”

As she stands, she glances down at her watch, “You should probably head over and pick up Lucy. Get an early start.”

“Alright, mom,” you follow her back outside, parting ways once you climb into your car. 

You guys wave goodbye to each other and you back out of the drive, heading to your aunt’s house. It’s pleasant and extremely nostalgic, being able to see all the usual faces out and about—although, when you look closer, you can tell everyone seems to be on edge. 

You’re going to keep your head on a swivel, especially when out later with Lucy, but you feel fairly confident you’ll be safe. You’ll stick to heavily populated areas near the sheriffs office and make sure to lock up once you’re back home. Honestly, it should be a pretty chill night. 

Tapping your phone to double check the time, you park on the last street of the night—the one right across from the RPD. There’s dozens of people out with their families, all dressed up for the holiday. A group of kids rush past you as you open your door, shrieking and laughing, costumes streaming behind them. Smiling, you open your backseat and help Lucy out. 

“This is our last call, little miss,” you take her hand in yours. “But this street has the full sized candy bars, so I don’t think you’ll be too disappointed.”

She smiles up at you, a couple of baby teeth missing, “Okay!”

“Okay!” You parrot back, smile breaking out a cross your face. 

She swings your clasped hands together until you reach the first house; she then drops it in favor of skipping up to the door and pressing the doorbell. 

Rinse and repeat. 

By the time you’ve circled the block and started heading back up to your car, you’re carrying her little pumpkin bucket filled to the brim with sweets. Your attention is on her, listening as your cousin tells you why she hates circus peanuts (which she’s completely correct about) when you bump into someone in front of you. 

Her plastic jack-o-lantern spills out a few pieces of candy as you rock back on your heels. 

“Oh, shi—I mean, shoot,” you cringe at the near slip up. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“It’s okay,” the policeman you ran into smiles. 

Your first thought is he’s a walking cliche: a blonde hair, blue eyed cop. Even if he is cute. The blue of his uniform looks so bright in the waning twilight, you kinda feel like a dumbass for running into him. He adjusts his walkie where it’s clasped onto his belt. 

“And where are you two lovely ladies headed to this evening?”

Your cousin giggles, “Home. We went trick or treating!” 

“You did?” He crouches down to be more at eye level with her. “And you’re dressed up like a princess?”

Lucy shakes her head no, “Uh uh.”

She points to the tiara on her head, “I’m the queen of hearts. See? Oh! And this too!”

She brings up her plastic scepter with a little pink heart on the end. 

“Ahh, of course!” He smiles and it makes your chest flutter.

“Are you a real police officer?” She frowns at him. 

“Yep, I’m Officer Kennedy, but you can call me Leon,” he stands back up, hand fishing out a couple of caramels from his pocket. “Sorry I don’t have any of the good stuff.”

“Thank you!” Lucy chirps, holding out her palm face up. 

Officer Kennedy drops the candy into her hand then offers the second out to you. 

“Oh,” you feel flustered, “uh, sure. Thanks, Officer.”

“Leon,” he affirms, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “You must be new in town?”

You laugh awkwardly, “Um, not really. I mean, I grew up here but moved away. I’m back to help take her trick or treating.” You face Lucy and gently squeeze her hand with a smile, “Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

“Yep!” She smiles back. 

“Okay, well I’ll let you two get back to it,” he steps away to let you both pass on the sidewalk. “There’s a curfew so don’t be out too late.”

“Thanks, but we’re just going straight home,” you nod. “Goodnight, officer—Leon.”

He grins at your slip, “Goodnight.” He nods his head at Lucy, “Your majesty.”

She giggles and tugs your hand forward, shouting goodnight back to him. You let her lead you back to your car, helping her buckle in and placing her candy in the floorboard. She pouts and tries to grab for it. 

“But—“

“This way, if something happens, we don’t spill it everywhere.”

“Oh, okay,” she sighs.

Smiling to yourself, you raise up and make your way over into the driver’s seat. Pulling away from the curb, you head back to your aunt’s house to drop Lucy off. Being occupied with making sure she’s comfortable, you miss the police car tailing your vehicle. 

It follows you as you drop off Lucy with your Uncle, who just got off work. He tries to convince you to stay, but you beg off, telling him you promised your mom you’d stay home. Waving goodbye to them, you drive back to your mom’s place, still totally oblivious to the cruiser following you. You park in the same spot you did earlier in the evening, humming when you get out of the car. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your keys, chapstick, and a caramel candy. You stick the key in the lock and pocket the chapstick, but grin down at the candy in your hand. Unwrapping it, you pop the treat into your mouth and finish unlocking the door. 

Stepping into the house, you shut and lock the door behind you. Pulling up your phone, you shoot your mom a quick text to let her know you’ve made it back safe and sound. The police car sits idling across the street before pulling away, slowly driving down the rest of the block before turning onto a separate lane. 

You’ve changed into a comfy shirt three times too big and opted out of pajama pants, so you can curl up and watch horror movies. Finishing off your drink, you climb out of bed and head downstairs to get more. 

As you’re passing through the dark living room, you hear the front door rattle. Freezing in place, you stay stock still, ears straining for any other sound. You hear the door knob rattle again and creep closer to peer around the wall. Watching the handle, you see it jiggle but it doesn’t turn. You curse under your breath, having forgotten your phone upstairs. 

A heavy tread walks across your porch, steps creaking as whoever it is walks away from the front door. You stay in place—having seen enough movies that you know better than to go to the door. Your legs are stiff when you finally pull yourself away from the wall, slowly walking to the kitchen. Maybe it was some trick or treaters? Although it’s way too late. 

Could be the killer…

That intrusive thought buzzes in your ears like an annoying gnat, even as you try to squish it down. Grabbing a water and a soda, you begin to make your way back upstairs to your room. As soon as your foot touches the bottom step, the doorbell rings loud as hell in the quiet. 

“Fucking shit,” you gasp, nearly dropping everything in your hands. 

Copying your earlier steps, you peek around the wall to check the door. You catch the top of a police cap through the small window and breathe a sigh of relief. Hurrying over, you unlock your door and pull it open. 

“Apologies for the—oh, hello, again,” Officer Kennedy shifts on his feet, hand coming up to push his cap back. 

“Hi,” you grip your drinks a little tighter, surprised to see him again. 

“Do you always answer the door in such undress?” He cocks his head at you, lips pulling up into a grin. 

Glancing down to see your shirt just reaches your thighs, your blood rushes hot, embarrassment making your heart race, “Oh, no! I-I didn’t mean to—look, some weirdo was testing my door earlier and I was headed upstairs when you came by and—“

He holds his hands up placatingly, “Whoa, whoa there. I was only teasing. You said someone tried to get in?”

Nodding, you continue, “I think. I mean the door handle jiggled a little before they walked off. It could just be a late trick or treater?”

“Maybe,” he looks off the porch to the side of the house. “I’ll take a quick look around.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that so much, Leon,” you effuse.

Giving you a little salute, he ducks off the porch and pulls out his flashlight, carefully checking the area. You watch him disappear around the side of the house and anxiety makes your scalp prickle. It feels like forever before his flashlight bobs back into view. He comes back to stand in front of you. 

“I didn’t see anything, so maybe it was just some kids,” his eyes glance down at your bare legs before flicking back up to your face. “I’ll let you get back to your mom.”

“Oh, she’s not home,” the words spill from your mouth before you can think better of it. “And thanks for checking.”

“Not a problem,” he smiles slowly and it gives you an odd feeling of nerves. “Have a good night now, ma’am.”

He walks off down the block, presumably to the next house, as you step back inside to re-lock your door. It’s not until you’re in your room, sitting the drinks down onto your dresser when you realize he never said why he stopped by in the first place. 

Well, it’s not like there isn’t some maniac on the loose. Probably just out checking on people, keeping the town secure. You push it from your mind and pick up your phone, texting your mom to let her know everything. Can never be too safe. Since she’s working, you don’t expect to hear from her so put your phone on charge and crawl back into bed. 

Hours pass and you finish up a couple of movies before deciding on actually going to sleep. Not able to shake off the feeling, you decide to double check the door locks before passing out. Grabbing your phone this time, you creep downstairs and check on the front door. Passing the lock check, you then head into the kitchen to the backdoor. 

Luckily, you didn’t cut on the light, but it doesn’t help the fear crawling up your throat like bile. The backdoor’s open. Not thrown open—just a sliver, just enough to have you pulling your phone up to dial 911. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a strangely robotic voice yanks the phone from your hand from behind your shoulder. 

Crying out, you nearly trip over your feet trying to move towards the open door and away from the psycho in your house. However, a strong grip around your neck stops you in your tracks. 

“Ah ah ah,” the weird intonation chides. “You’ve been such a good girl so far, let’s not ruin it now.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, tears clogging your throat. 

Your hands hesitate at your sides, fists clenching, nails biting your palms. The person behind you shifts until they’re standing in front of you. A black robe and hood cover their body while a white screaming ghost mask hides their face. They bring a knife up to tap against your sternum. 

“If you’re really good,” their odd voice sounds amused. “You’ll get to live.”

Nodding, tears drip down your cheeks, “O-okay.”

“Good girl,” they purr, trailing the knife down to your shirt hem. Lifting the material with the blade, they laugh when they see your plain cotton panties. 

“So good, aren’t you? Bet this cunt is just ripe for the taking,” they reach their gloved hand out to smack your mound. 

Flinching, you bite your lip to keep from crying out. Everything inside you clenches, body breaking out in a cold sweat as nausea roils in your gut. Your legs shake so hard, you think you’re gonna collapse. 

“I n-need to sit d-down, pl-please,” you stutter out.

“Poor thing,” the robotic reply instills no comfort. “Let’s go to your room, shall we?”

The psycho grabs your arm and forcibly leads you through your house and up the stairs; they shove you out in front of them and gesture forward with a wave of their knife. 

“Your room. Now.”

You move forward, stumbling into your bedroom with the masked killer right behind you. Sitting heavily down on the edge of your mattress, they move in front of you to zip tie your wrists together. You feel yourself going numb—there’s no more room for fear. 

“I think I can trust you,” the voice distorts as they start to adjust the mask. “So I’m going to leave your legs alone.”

You nod and they shake the knife at you playfully, “But, if you do anything stupid, I’ll gut you like fish and leave your pretty insides on the outside for mommy to find.”

Fresh tears spill from your eyes, “O-kuh-kay.”

They hum happily, “Good. Let’s see what we’re working with then.”

Grabbing your thighs, they shove them up and open, making you fall back against your bed. Using the knife, they slice through your panties and toss them onto the floor. 

“Oh, what a pretty girl,” they laugh. “Damn. Just knew this pussy was gonna be good.”

Shivering, you twitch and squeak as they run their gloved fingers across your slit to tap the hood of your clit.  Kneeling in front of you, they undo the bottom half of their mask and set it on the floor. Glancing down at it, you can see the hinged jaw holds a small voice changer over the mouth.

“Let’s have a taste of that sweet cunt,” his voice sounds familiar, but you’re unable to place it and your mind skitters away from thinking any thoughts. 

He hungrily licks at your pussy lips, tongue parting your folds to lap at your hole. 

You try to fight against the rising tide of arousal, but it’s a losing battle. With every press of his disgusting tongue, more slick drips from your pussy into his smug mouth. You grit your teeth, swallowing down every sound that he wrenches from you. It shouldn’t feel so good. 

He moves his mouth up to your swollen clit, suckling the bud between his lips to slowly circle his tongue around it. Your hips jump up, pressing your pelvis against his mouth and he chuckles. The vibration makes you whine and the dam bursts for him—he eats you out voraciously. Holding your hips down to the bed, he sucks and lathes your sensitive bundle of nerves until he pulls an orgasm from you. 

Moving his head back, slick glistens across his lips and chin. 

“Taste so good, can’t wait to stuff this pussy with my cock,” he grins and you hiccup a sob. 

“Please, don’t,” you sniffle, hips squirming under his palms. 

Grabbing his knife from where he placed it, he uses it to push your shirt up to pool underneath your breasts. 

“Time to give you something to cry about,” he murmurs before his lips tick up into a mean smile. “This will hurt.”

The tip of his blade dips down to your stomach and he makes a firm cut into your skin. When you yell in pain, he clicks his tongue and slaps his palm down over your parted lips. He continues to carve words into your stomach as you scream, sound muffled by his hand over your mouth. 

By the time he finishes, you feel faint from the pain and having your mouth and nose obstructed.  

“There’s my good girl,” he coos condescendingly. “Keep quiet for me, we’re almost through.”

Your head lolls to the side, silently crying as the killer ducks down to run his tongue through the cuts he made. When he raises his head, blood’s smeared across his entire lower face. 

“Almost as good as that soft juicy cunt,” he makes a show of licking it off his lips. “Think I’m ready for the main course.”

You can’t see, but you can hear as he undoes his pants, the zipper extra loud amidst your harsh gasping. He shifts between your thighs and the head of his dick parts your slick pussy lips. With one snap of his hips, he’s burying his cock halfway into your cunt, walls gripping and squeezing him tightly. 

“Oh, fuck,” he drops his head to watch as his cock spears you open. “Fat wet pussy’s swallowing me up. Good girl, good fucking girl.”

The breath rushes from your body with every thrust into your clenching heat. The skin of your stomach burns with the movement, blood sluggishly seeping from the cuts into your flesh. His fingers slip down to rub and pinch your clit. Writhing in place and despite the pain, you can’t stop from feeling full and so, so good. 

“Nooo,” you whimper. 

“Yes,” he pants, humping your pussy even faster. “God, gonna cream this chubby pussy—shoot it nice and deep.”

You hate that his words make you wet, clit throbbing under his rough fingers as he pounds away at your hole. He adjusts his angle and you nearly scream, the head of his dick knocking against your cervix. Your brain blanks out, the pain between your legs meshing with the pain of your tummy until it’s all white noise.

The only thing you can do is cling onto the feeble pleasure he’s giving you.  

“That’s it, want you to feel it tomorrow, feel how deep I fucked this pretty pussy,” he grunts, sweat beading in his upper lip.

“Please,” you whimper, “oh, please, please, please.”

“Shhh, I’ll make you cum again, don’t worry,” he laughs and you notice flecks of blood on his teeth.

He reaches up to the blood pooling in your belly button and brings his fingers back down to your clit, rubbing it into your pudgy bud. You whine continuously, sickeningly grateful for the reprieve of pain when your arousal pushes through that fog of misery. 

Snapping his hips harder into you, he growls and moans, cock pistoning in and out of your cunt at a dizzying pace. His fingers continue to circle and rub your clit until you’re clenching and whimpering, pussy walls milking his cock, as he stays true to his word, bringing you to climax once more. 

“Good girl, fuck, gonna nut in this soft pussy, leave you with a Halloween treat,” he snarls down at you. “Say thank you.”

“T-thank you,” you weep, sinuses clogged. 

“God damn,” he hisses under his breath and slams his hips into you one last time. 

Disgust fills you just like his seed, warm and potent, settling deep in your body in a way that you’ll never forget. Your body feels like a limp dish rag when he pulls out, cum leaking from your pussy to stain your sheets. 

“This shit is so hot sometimes,” his mouth twists in a grimace and right before your eyes, he slips off the hood before taking off the rest of his mask. 

You’re too weak for anything more than a wounded sound from your throat as the officer from earlier in the night sits before you. 

“Surprise,” he grins at you, blonde fringe ruffled and sweaty. “Or should I say Happy Halloween.”

[eveningepiphany]

far from sober | H.S

my masterlist

part II

summary: you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.

warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk people (including close family members), fluff, sexual tension, brothers best friend, drunk crying lol

a/n: sorry I haven’t posted properly in a while! here’s a shorter piece while I work on some more stuff <3 plenty to come x

———

Saying you were a bit drunk was a drastic understatement.

You were stumbling all over the place, heels becoming impractical now you were so intoxicated.

Harry, who knew you were going out with some of your family and friends tonight at the bar, had no idea what he was coming back to.

You don’t remember actually intending to get this drunk, but your Aunty had been egging the group on to do some shots, and before you know it you’re well past tipsy. Even your mum was getting drunker than you’d seen in years.

So all the other boys who’d gone out— including Harry— walk into the hotel bar. It was as chic as the lobby, just adorning some more neon signs and rustic bar stools.

Harry had gone out with them to look at a heap of shit that you and your female family members had little interest in. They’d insisted you all stay and just have a couple cocktails, since it was a holiday after all.

It was to their surprise when your same eager aunt bounded up to them when they popped through the door to the bar. They had expected tipsy, but not hammered.

“Oh my god!! You guys will not believe how good the cocktails are here!” She swooned, and they all glanced at each other with an amused chuckle.

“I think I just might believe it.” One of the boys piped up.

Most of them dispersed to find their significant others, family or friends amidst the bar, and see how much chaos was being caused.

But you’d b-lined straight for Harry, regardless of whether he was seeking you out.

His brows shot up when you collided with his side, “Harry!”

Your arms wrap around his middle and you end up latching onto him, practically using him to keep yourself upright.

“Oh!” He speaks in surprise, hands jumping up to brace around your lower back.

“Are you absolutely hammered too, love?” He chuckles and you bury your face into his chest.

“Yeaaaaa…” you drawl, a smile spreading onto your face.

“Everyone else is rounding up their partners. Suppose I’m in charge of you, yea?” He suggests, rubbing your back.

“Wanna—“ you hiccup, “have a drink with me?”

He shakes his head with amusement, “I think you’ve had plenty, sweetheart. We should get you back to your room.”

Most of your drunk family were getting escorted out by their respective people, being taken up to their hotel room before they can drink themselves any sillier.

This included your brother, Leon, who had his longtime girlfriend pulled into his side, holding her half up and laughing a little at her drunken slur.

He came to a stop when he seen both of you, eyes flitting between your two figures. A small twitch of his brows suggested he wasn’t sure of how he felt about the sight.

“You got her?” He asks, a protective edge to his voice. One that drunken you missed easily as you stayed plastered against him— which is something sober you would not do in general, let alone in front of your brother.

Harry nodded straight away, understanding his defensiveness over you since he feels the same about Gemma. He said softly, “Of course, I’ve got her mate. I’ll take her up to her room.”

Leon glanced at you again. Harry and him met when they were 9, and they’ve been best friends since then. He trusts Harry with his own life, and knows he’d never ever do anything that would hurt you, but his protective side is still flaring up.

Only when his girlfriend, Brie, complains of feeling nauseous he curtly nods, and continues heading for the door.

You are again, oblivious to all this, running your fingers along the tattoos exposed on his forearm— his sleeves rolled up to his elbows— putting his gorgeous skin out on display for you.

“I loveee your arms.” You slur, and his eyes shoot from the door back down to you.

He rarely sees you this drunk, and you’re suddenly very close— making comments that for many reasons are bringing a flush to his face.

“Y/N, Jesus you’re hammered.” He shakes his head, still smiling.

He slowly starts walking, “Cmon, let’s go. Y’brother is expecting me to get you back to your room in one piece.”

“You definitely won’t have a drink with me?” You whine, taking a few steps backwards trying to tug him in the direction of the bar instead of the door.

“Nope. Maybe tomorrow if you can even stomach alcohol.” He pushes the doors from the dimly lit bar open, and leads you into the back of the lobby that it’s connected to.

You squint at the dramatic change in lighting, which is hardly helping your sense of perception, or lack thereof, from the alcohol.

Harry’s hand has taken yours though, leading you to an elevator.

You noticed how warm it was, smooth against yours, aside from the rougher pads of his fingers from the years of playing guitar.

Being so off it, you could not keep that thought to yourself.

“Your hands are so soft, H. Like silk.” You say as you walk into the first elevator to open, squeezing his hand.

“First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered.” He smiles, squeezing back.

“what floor are y’on, by the way? D’ya even remember— or are we a bit too wasted for numbers?” A teasing lilt is in his voice.

You half-laugh half-hiccup, “it’s… 7…?”

“You hardly sound certain about that.” He nudges you with a laugh, “It’s 12, we’re on the same one, remember.”

You laugh much harder than any sober person would, which makes it funnier to him. Since it was a mediocre joke at best.

You’re still laughing as you touch his chest with your palm, “you’re not funny.”

His gaze travels down to it, and he’s shocked at how touchy you are. You never do shit like this when you’re sober. His own amusement quickly takes the back seat, even though you’re still giggling.

However your face falls shortly after, laced with a curious gaze as you slide the neck of his long sleeve to the side, in search for the swallows inked onto his collar bones.

He watches as your eyes wander the small expanse of skin there, and how your fingers brush the tattoos.

“Having fun?” He asks, trying to joke again, but really he’s undeniably a little worked up.

“Yah, heaps.” You snap your gaze back up to him as you enthusiastically nod.

He hates the fact he’s blushing so hard right now over this, since you’re drunk and not completely in control, but he at the end of the day is a man with a very pretty girl— which happened to be you— pulling at his top like she wants it off him.

You hum to yourself, “Have such a pretty neck.” And you trail your hand up it, running a finger over his adams apple.

The elevator door opens like a blessing, and he quickly moves to make distance between the two of you.

“Can you remember your room number, darling? That’s one thing I actually don’t know.” He looks to you as you follow him out with clumsy moments.

“Uh… I dunno— wait I think the keycard is in my purse.”

He laughs at this— wondering if it will come to you in time once you sober up.

“Fuckkk.” You groan. “My purse is in Molly’s big handbag.”

The groan soon turns into a whine, because drunk and being slightly inconvenienced is not a good pair.

“It’s ok!” He amends quickly, trying to keep from having a drunken meltdown on his hands, “We’ll just got back to mine, only if you’re comfortable?”

He quickly prepares for you to not want that, “otherwise— I’ll call her, she didn’t seem too wasted, I’m sure she can—“

He’s interrupted by you, “I don’t mind going back with you.”

You say it with a confused look on you face, a tiny pout on your lips.

“Why would I be uncomfortable going with you?”

“Because… well— I’m not sure. I just wanted to leave you with other options.”

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone together before— you’ve actually spent plenty, but just never with you drunk.

And so touchy.

“No. It’s ok. I love being with you!” You chuckle.

He leads you down the hall, pulling the keycard from his back pocket once he reaches his room, 3313.

The door clicks open, and he holds it open for you, following you in shortly after.

You’re still unstable on your feet, and one look at those heels, he’s surprised you haven’t ended up on the floor in the last ten minutes

They’re practically a health and safety issue. He can not imagine you getting them off right now— which is exactly what you’re about to bend over and attempt.

Before you can throw off your centre of gravity, he quickly says, “Go sit on the bed.”

You glance back over your shoulder, face only lit by the light from the lamp in the corner of the room.

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think, Harry?”

He toes off his own shoes, shaking his head immediately at your drunken misconception of what he asked.

“So I can take your shoes off.”

You make the few steps left to the bed safely, and you sit at the edge of it, still giggling as you say, “just my shoes, huh?”

“Yes.” He walks over, kneeling down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto the strength of his thigh.

He fiddles momentarily with the laced up string, warm hands splayed on your calf, and choosing to ignore the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Christ. This is harder than he thought.

“I forget how hot you are sometimes.” You deadpan, and his jaw goes a little lax.

You’re usually playful, yes, but never do you breach into territory like this.

It was only others, like those at a family gathering, or your close friends, that would push to get stuff like that out of you like they were matchmakers.

There were many times that barbecues or some kind of event held at yours, Leon would invite Harry over. And if the two of you even interacted for just a second, someone in your family circle would tease you. Especially your own damn brother— it was a constant streamline of snarky comments from him.

“You are so drunk.” He mumble while pulling up your other foot.

You ignore his statement, thinking back to when he was a boy to now. He was cute— always was— but the way he looks now is just unmatchable.

“Have you always looked so… like… this?”

He chuckles, almost nervous, “what does question that even mean?”

“So pretty.” You clarify after a moment of trying to find the word.

“Ah, you’re only saying that because you’re plastered up the walls.” He laughs, and a dimple popped on his cheek, and your hand jumped into action before you could even think about it.

“Noooo, sober me thinks that too. She thinks you’re more than pretty.” You say, cupping his jaw, gently tracing the dimple that popped up.

He doesn’t know how to interpret any of this. His heart is jumping in his chest, and he’s trying to reason its genuinely just the alcohol in your system.

He holds eye contact as he slips off your other shoe, placing in neatly next to the other.

He stays there for a moment, unprepared for your next question.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s drunk, she’s drunk, she’s drunk…

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.” He says, and it’s painful— because he wants to, so fucking bad, but you’re not in a state to consent to literally anything at the moment.

And especially not in the mind frame to be making decisions like this.

You lean forward anyway, before he has a chance to avoid it, managing to meet his lips on your own terms.

He caved for a brief flash of time, and allows a second for himself to feel it, no longer than that though. Just a mere moment to take in the warm, soft feeling of your lips on his. It takes so much strength for him to not kiss you back, he has to focus on the task at hand— sobering you up and getting you safely asleep.

He pulls back after that single moment, leaving his forehead against yours, “baby, I know, I really…” he cuts himself off.

A deep inhale and he stands up, “Not tonight. Cmon, let’s get you out of your dress. You can wear something of mine.”

He walks over to his suitcase, anything to remove you from his sight for a moment, to reset his thought process. He pulls out a tshirt and pair of gym shorts, hoping they won’t be too big on you.

Turning back around, he convinces himself he’s fine. Placing the clothes from his bag on the bed beside you, his hands come under your arms, helping you stand up on flat feet for the first time in hours.

You lean into the touch, turning around so he can undo the back of your dress.

The feeling of his fingers brushing your back have you going wild, and the way they gently slide the zipper of your dress down.

His eyes lock with the back of your lacy bralette and he chooses not to follow your skin any further down.

You use your hands to slip the straps off your shoulders— and very quickly the dress is pooling at your feet.

A shaky inhale passes through his nose as now you stand in just your underwear and a seemingly very pretty bralette.

He reaches and picks up his shirt from the foot of the bed.

“Do you want to… take this off before…?” He gestures to your bralette when he catches your eyes.

You nod, reaching behind you to undo the clasp and allowing it to slip from your shoulders to the floor.

Harry puts all his focus on getting the tshirt over your head to cover you up.

Once it’s over your whole frame, you can’t help but smile.

He’s so nervy and cute around you.

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile, suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of adoration for him hit you.

It inflated up in your chest, and bubbled deep into the pit of your stomach.

It killed Harry to watch it happen, and although he had no idea what kind of thoughts were going on in your head, just seeing you light up like that…

You wrapped your arms around his middle again, just like you did when you ran up to him in the bar.

He placed his hands in your hair this time, taking in your scent— which was mixing with his own now that your were in his shirt.

“Love, if you were sober right now. God.” He confesses.

“Im sober enough.” You beg, even though it’s such a lie.

He still shakes his head against you, “‘M not gonna be that guy, Y/N. I have waited years just to have you. I can wait another night. Or week. Or a whole ‘nother year if that’s what it takes.”

This hits you hard.

And it felt like your 15 year old self could hear it up in the confines of your head it rung through you that loudly.

She loved him then, more than she’d ever admit. And sure, you’ve grown up from 15, but yet never once did you grow out of him.

As noted earlier, being drunk and inconvenienced is not a good pair. But being drunk and having someone say or do something sentimental like that is another level.

Tears immediately start to fall from your eyes, and he feels your chest shake at the sudden outburst of emotion.

He pulls back, thinking he’s done something wrong, or said the wrong thing, and an apology was immediately on the tip of his tongue.

But relief thrums through him as you tug him right back into the hug, “that’s— that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“The nicest thing a boys ever told me.”

“Sweetheart.” He coos as you cry, his own voice wobbly with emotion.

He feels like he’s on a roller coaster. 5 minutes ago it seemed all he could think about was the unspeakable things wanted to do to you, and now he just wants to lay you down and hold you until you fall asleep.

He forgets the shorts on the foot of the bed, shuffling the two of you up to where the head of it is— which was still unmade from last night when he’d slept in it.

He tugs you into it, pulling you tightly too his chest as your heads hit the pillows.

And he just hugs you.

Eventually, your crying subsides off, and you enter an indescribably calm state.

“I love you. I don’t even know if you’re going to remember this in the morning.” He sighs, “but fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You whisper, before your eyes begin to fall heavy, and those words were the last to leave your lips before you fell asleep.

———

PART II, found here

a/n pt2:

back again guys, hello!

this is like an extended a/n, but I have a lil update. I saw harry for the very first time live 3 weeks ago. it was so so incredible, and the experience was by far the best time of my life. I miss harry so much i just feel sick ugh. he is perfect. auslot was amazing, he absolutely gave us his all.

that’s why I’ve been so absent on here, literally coping with my pcd a day at a time. I’ve written heaps but nothing I’m 100% happy with haha.

but anyways I just thought I’d share, thank you so much for your continued support and know there is plenty in the works x

all my love, <3

[scar-crossedlvrs]

Imagine.. (smut)

Chris or anyone basically forcing leon to go get loose at a Club and then he end up getting a hot dance with reader... Leon decides to ask her number and they meet up pne or two times. From there on, maybe their friendship starts forming.

Please dont feel obliged to do it ofc!

Leon S Kennedy - Won't You Follow My Body Rhythm ?

I immediately thought of re2 / rookie!leon when i read this, so i hope you don’t mind being my first try at rookie!leon. please try to enjoy my 2nd public attempt at smut and my longest piece of writing as of late.

i 100% didn't listen to this song like half the time i was writing this so honorary title.

cw for: smut, f / afab!reader, alcohol consumption, oral ( f receiving ), public-ish?, leon's real awkward, s.t.a.r.s chris redfield

18+ minors do not interact. gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

The inbox is open for requests.

“Dude, just try and relax.”

Chris’s voice was muted by the sounds of the crowded club, despite his proximity.

“When you said we were going out for drinks, this isn’t what I expected.” Leon shouts over the music, raising his drink to his lips. “I thought we were going to the usual spot.”

There’s a laugh from the other man. “It won’t kill you to try something new every once in a while, rookie.” Chris claps a hand to the blonde’s shoulder. “Besides, this isn’t so bad. Pretty sure the girl at the bar’s been eyeing you since we walked in.”

“I doubt it.” Leon rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his drink. Despite his words, his eyes move to scan the direction Chris had indicated, unable to see much in the dim lighting. “I don’t see anyone even glancing in my direction.”

“Fine, don’t trust me.” Chris rolls his eyes in turn and shrugs. “I’m not sulking in the corner all night with you though. Jill should be here any minute, just try and do something fun while I’m gone.”

Before Leon could protest, the other man disappeared into the crowd with a casual wave.

He was going to need another drink.

At least one.

—

Elbows propped against the bar, you bring your drink to your lips as someone pulls out the stool next to you.

“I hope you don’t mind if I sit here?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance over to him. “ It’s the only spot open.”

He had caught your attention earlier, your eyes glued to him since he had walked into the club. Up close, you had a better look at his handsome features, pretty blue eyes framed by a fringe of dirty blonde hair and a jawline you couldn’t help but want to run your fingers along. He’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting to look anywhere but directly at you.

Cute.

“Go ahead.” red painted lips curl upwards as you gesture to the seat. “I won’t bite you.”

A relieved smile blooms across his face and his shuffling stops as he slides into the seat, doing his best to catch the attention of the busy bartender so that he could order.

“First time here, no?” you break the quiet between you after his drink is placed in front of him, curious.

His brows raise as he sips at the overpriced old fashioned. “Is it that obvious?”

“Has been since you walked in the door.”

There’s a sudden look of realization at your words, and his face is suddenly tinged pink. You let out a stifled laugh at the reaction, only causing the blush to spread a little bit further down his neck.

“Don’t worry, you just need to relax a bit.” you reassure him with a smile.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that tonight.” he chuckles slightly, letting some of the tension in his shoulders drop. “Chris wouldn’t stop saying the same thing.”

“And he’s right. You should.” your eyes glimmer in the dim lights as you lean a little closer to him. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few ideas to help you out.”

He’s flustered again, thanks to the mixture of your proximity and the suggestion in your tone. Sputtering into his drink, his eyes widening in shock. “I…” his voice trails off as he glances away from you once more.

“Oh, calm down.” you straighten back up with a laugh, easing some of the closeness between the two of you. “Just teasing a little.”

The words do little to lessen the blush on his face as he stares into his drink. “Right. I knew that.”

“Sure, I’ll believe you this time.”

He falls quiet for a moment, sipping on his drink as the flush ebbs from his face slowly. “The name’s Leon by the way. Leon Kennedy.”

His eyes finally find yours again as he speaks and you nod, offering both your name and your hand to him in turn. Leon hesitated for a moment, before taking your hand in his firm grasp. Your lips curl upwards, hand lingering in his as your eyes glitter mischievously.

“Well, Leon.” Your words are slow and deliberate. “I think I’ve got the perfect way for you to let loose a little bit. C’mon.”

You quickly down the rest of your drink with your free hand as your fingers tighten around his. Slipping off of your barstool, you tug at his hand. Confused, he reluctantly finished his own drink before following you as you led him towards the dance floor.

“Oh, no. No, no, nope.” Leon blurted out the moment he realized. “Not happening.”

“Yes it is, I promise it’ll be fun.” you stop somewhere in the mass of already dancing bodies, pulling him closer and guiding his hands to your waist.

“I can’t dance, I’ll just embarrass myself and you.”

“Nobody’s paying attention. It’s easy. Besides, I’ll do all the work. Just follow my rhythm okay?”

Despite his protests, Leon’s hands remained on your waist albeit rather stiff. Taking this as a good sign, you drape your arms over his shoulders and inch a little closer. “Just move with me and try to have a little fun. It’ll come to you.”

Hips move, and you ignore the fast pace of the pulsating music to instead ease him into the movements. It didn’t take very long for his tense shoulders to relax under your touch, the hands on your waist slipping lower to grip at your hips. Satisfied with this reaction, you pick up the tempo, matching that of whatever was blaring over the speakers. He has to take a moment to adjust but quickly corrects, tugging you closer to him.

Before long you’re pressed close to his body, his chest against your back as your hips grind into his. Fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place and you bring a hand to his neck, pulling his face a little closer as a smile blossoms across your lips.

“I told you it was easy.”

—

“Oh fuck.”

The words spill from your parted lips, back pressed against the car door uncomfortably as his tongue drew messy circles around your clit as fingers pressed into your thighs.

This was becoming a familiar sight, the two of you sprawled in the ever so slightly too small backseat of Leon’s beat up Jeep after one too many drinks. You had slipped him your number that night, before he could be swept away by his original companion. Since then, he had been calling at least weekly to meet up.

You never declined.

And it usually ended with your dress hiked up to your waist and his face buried between your thighs.

Who knew the awkward guy you met at the club, the one that swore he couldn’t dance, was a natural when it came to eating pussy?

“You look so pretty like this.” eager, icy eyes stare up at you as Leon pulls away from your dripping cunt for only a moment before diving back in with a soft groan. “ ‘n you taste so sweet.”

Manicured fingers weave their way into his hair as lewd mewls escape you. The tug on his scalp only acts to encourage him, lips closing around the bundle of nerves as he inches you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Lee ‘so good.” breathless, you manage to whine “ ‘m gonna cum.”

He hums against your clit, his grip leaving one of your thighs in order to slip two of his fingers into your slick, clenching cunt only adding to the already overwhelming sensation of his tongue.

“You can do it, pretty. Jus’ let go.” he urges, fingers moving, curling to find just the right spot causing you to buck your hips upwards.

Fingers tighten against his scalp as you feel the tightly wound knot within you snap, vision blurred as your orgasm washes over you in waves. Teeth sink hard into your lower lip, barely able to hold back the stream of whiny swears that spilled from your lips as you came undone around his fingers.

Leon stayed buried in your pussy as you rode out your high, eagerly lapping at the mess you made until you released your grip on his hair. There’s a dorky smile plastered on his lips as he finally raises up, wiping the mess of slick and saliva from his face with an arm as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

“You know, one of these days I’m gonna have to take you out on a real date, right?”

[cheesesoda]

I wish I was your boyfriend too.

rookie!leon x detective!reader

not my gif obvs^^^

genre: fluff fluff fluff

cw: drinking? not in a violent way or anything tho

summary: leon’s got a crush he is convinced is unrequited but after a night of drinking, he’s led to believe otherwise.

part 2 is out!! linked here

“alright rookie, and here is your desk.” chris sighs as he finishes the tour of the station. “thanks, officer redfield.” leon smiles. “just chris.” he replies. “chris.” leon echoes. “you’ll be partnered with an officer for the rest of the week so you can get into the groove of things. lucky you, you’re partnered with our head detective.” chris smirks. “ah, speak of the devil.” a woman with h/l h/c hair and deep e/c eyes approaches the two men. “l/n!” chris calls to her. oh fuck. please no. leon thinks to himself. she was so pretty, he wouldn’t be able to think or focus around her. please don’t let her be my guide. “hey chris,” she grins at the officer. “is this the new guy i’m showing around?” please don’t say yes please don’t say yes please don’t sa- “he sure is!” fuck. “i’m y/n l/n, head detective. nice to meet you…?” y/n trails off. “oh- uh- leon kennedy. nice to meet you too, miss l/n- i mean, detective l/n-“ he stammers but she just laughs. “y/n.” she says and he repeats her name again. the way it rolled off his tongue satisfied him.

a year later…

leon had been working at the RPD for a year now and it didn’t get much easier being around y/n. she was kind, brave, nurturing, and intelligent, but she made him so nervous. he liked her. he liked her a LOT. his heart fluttered when he’d think about her and the unlikely event that she felt the same for him. why would she though? he knew it was stupid to think she could ever like a dork like him. “hey, leon!” y/n called over to his desk. “wanna come get drinks tonight?” she asked. “oh- i probably shouldn’t-“ he said. “please?~ it’ll be fun!” she begs. how could he say no to that? “fine.” he grumbled. “yay! thanks, leon!” she cheered, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, accidentally rubbing his face in her boobs in the process (not that he minded).

later that night…

“shut up, chriz!” y/n slurred, giggling to herself. “another round, pleazeee!” she calls to the bartender. “i think you’ve had enough, y/n.” chris slurs, chuckling as well. “shh shh shhhhhhh!” she puts her fingers to her lips lazily. “how many have you had, y/n?” leon asks. “juzt a *hic* feeewwww!” she giggles. “try 7” jill retorts. “holy shit, you’re wasted.” leon says, shock evident on his face. the drinks arrive and before y/n can reach it, leon pushes it out of her reach. “leonnnnnn!” she pouts. “no, we should get you home.” he says. “ughhh! fiiine! bye guyzzzz!” she calls to the rest of the team as leon holds her up.

he hails a taxi and they both get in. they remain silent and he suddenly feels a weight on his shoulder. he looks over to see the detective taking a nap on his shoulder. he blushes but doesn’t move her.

when they finally reach her apartment complex, he helps her up to her apartment. he helps her open her front door and sits her down on her bed. as he’s taking off her heels for her, she lays down. he gets out some shorts and a shirt for her and lays them next to her. “change into these, y/n.” he says softly. “hehe okay, officer~” she sighs and begins to unzip her dress, letting it slink down her shoulders. he immediately turns around. “after i leave!” he stutters. she stands up and walks in front of him, now only left in her bra and underwear. “don’t you wanna see me naked though?” she pouts. he swears he is on the verge of exploding right there. “no!” he exclaims, covering his eyes. “you don’t wanna see me naked?” she says, her voice sounding betrayed. “n-no, i do!” he stammers. “oh~ you do?” her flirtatious voice rings. “no! i- i mean yes- i mean- fuck! i-“ he stutters and she laughs before walking away to put on the clothes. it takes her a while due to her drunken state. “done?” leon asks. “mmmhmm.” she confirms sleepily. he turns around and she’s still sitting on the bed, now in the shorts and shirt. “good night, y/n.” he says after he tucks her into bed. “thank you, leon.” she yawns. she looks so cute like this, he thinks to himself. “you’re so good to me.” she whispers, closing her eyes. his stomach flutters. “wish you were my boyfriend…” she sighs. oh. his face bursts into flames. when he doesn’t respond, she opens her eyes again and looks at him. “y’so sweet.” she caresses her hand against his cheek. “so respectful. so cute, with your fluffy hair and your cute lips.” she giggles and strokes her fingers on his lips. “i always wanna kiss ‘em.” she smiles. he cannot take this anymore. “you’re drunk.” he says. “no, m’not” she mumbles. “good night, y/n.” he says again, walking to the door. “g’night, leon. love you.” she mutters against her pillow. he closes her door when he leaves her room and sighs against it. that’s when he hears the thunder. he looks out the window to see pouring rain. fuck. surely she wouldn’t mind if he just crashed on her couch, right?

he lays on the couch and listens to the thunder and rain outside. a million thoughts roam his mind—all of them y/n. what the fuck was she saying? did she mean it? no, surely it was just the alcohol talking. but they do say drunk words are sober thoughts. all this thinking was hurting his head. he didn’t sleep much that night.

the next morning…

“leon?” y/n’s raspy morning voice fills his ears. what does he say to her now?

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the second act (not old enough ch.2)

pairing: leon kennedy/reader

cw: smut, age gap, mild daddy kink, oral f!receiving

summary: reader and Leon have a another little rendezvous a few months after their first. You're both sober this time and the ambiance is nicer, but is it enough for you two to become something more?

word count: 3.5k

ao3 link

Leon’s in a ballroom, mingling with government officials and other people whose names he won’t remember the next day. He’s dead sober, and all it gives him is hyper awareness of the fact that everyone who shakes his hand would throw him to the wolves and watch like a spectator sport. He knows that by now. He’s not the baby-faced rookie he once was, not so trusting, not like you. He’s knows he’s the best agent, not the best friend.

When he sees you, you’re wearing an elegant dress, something he’d never imagined you in. You look gorgeous, too - that was the one thing about you that hadn’t changed. You were always beautiful, no matter what you chose to wear. It wasn’t Leon’s opinion, it was a fact. He was sure of it.

You were chatting with other attendees, with a smile as fake as his. It takes one to know one, he thought, she’s a great liar. You’re playfully touching some older douchebag who looks familiar to Leon, but he can’t quite place him when every person here has their suits tailored by the same guy.

You catch his eye while he’s staring at you, not even gawking, but thinking, you can see he’s confused. Leon’s got his elbow on the table, pretending to drink, but it’s only seltzer in the glass. That secret’s between him and the bartender.

You make an excuse to leave the men you’re with for a moment, jogging excitedly towards Leon in a way that forces a smile from his stubborn mouth. It’s not even about him, you’re just cute in a way that’s so foreign to him. He learned cynicism so early, he’s been sucked dry of that type of sweetness, the kind you radiate.

He was probably the same at 18, but his memory is foggy for about a million reasons, none of them being alcohol anymore. Sobriety is still something he’s working on getting used to.

He stops you before you hug him with a gentle interrogation.

“Why are you here?” He’s neither happy, nor angry. It’s mostly confusion, maybe awe at how you can mold yourself so well to this atmosphere, too.

“Same reason anyone is, I guess,” You say with your typical nonchalance.

“What reason might that be?”

“To jerk each other off in the hopes of favors in the form of cash, status, or maybe even literal jerk off sessions.”

“Thought you’d say something different, but you’re smarter than I expected. How’d you get here? What age did you tell the bartender you were?” He points to the glass in your hand, half-empty.

“My date got it for me.”

“Your date, huh?”

“Yeah,” you can’t hide a sour face when you mention him.

“Not a match?”

“Never thought it would be.”

“So you’re here for cash or status? Since you clearly don’t wanna fuck that dude.”

“Cash,” you say, in a whisper, “I hate saying that. I don’t wanna be this ‘sugar baby’ or whatever. I just -”

“Hey, I get it. No judgment from me. You gotta do what you can to get by.”

You change the subject because your life isn’t the most comfortable or interesting topic for you.

“You seem very sober tonight?” You ask.

“I am.” Leon’s small smile is a proud one. “You seem more sober than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah,” you say, heat rising to your cheeks, remembering things you did when you were drunk, “Thanks for making me take a cab home. I don’t wanna think about what else I would’ve done.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m thinking about calling you one now.”

“I’m not leaving, though.”

“You should be.”

“I bet you used to drink at my age, too. Can’t you just get off my back about it?”

“I don’t care about that. Listen, a lot of the men here are not good guys. I don’t want something bad to happen to you.”

“You’re not my dad.”

“Thank god. I’d be doing a shitty job if I were. Letting you go out and have sex with a stranger in a bathroom stall.”

“Hey! You did it, too. And you liked it.”

“You didn’t?”

You took a large swig of your champagne.

“That’s what I thought.” Leon gave you a smug smile. “Had you practically screaming.”

“Maybe I’m just easy,” you shrug and pause before saying, “or maybe I was faking it.”

“Yeah, you are easy, but you weren’t faking it, sweetheart. I have enough experience in that department to know the difference.”

“Oh? So you’ve had girls fake it with you?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t always good at it.”

Even though the sex you’d had with him was dirty, literally and figuratively, you loved it. It would’ve been better if there'd been a romantic ambiance. It would’ve been better if Leon was sober like he was right then, standing in front of you. He was so much hotter this way. Irresistible.

With a few more drinks, you’d get on your knees and beg him to take you into the nearest bathroom and do it all again, but you could maintain composure after only one glass.

You weren’t going to drink more anyway, not because you cared what Leon said, but because you wanted to remember the way he looked in that suit.

He gave you a knowing smile. “Whatcha thinkin' about?”

“Nothin’,” You said, turning to face the other way, hiding your embarrassment.

“Mhm.”

Leon was going to keep teasing you because the faces you made were so cute, but he wasn’t going to give into your charms this time. He would make sure you got home safe and that would be all.

Everything would be different if you were a little older. Sure, his sobriety would still give him the rationale he needed not to fuck you senseless in an adjacent room, but maybe you’d come over to his place after a real date. He’d take you out to dinner first because that’s what you deserve. You don’t deserve whatever this is, especially when you don’t understand how bad it is.

Your conversation alone feels precarious to him. You both have to lean in close to speak like every word is gossip, and in a way, it is, or it would be if it got passed around, and that’s the problem with the game you’re playing. Leon isn’t sure whether he’d get high fives or a stern talking to at the office if anyone found out about you, and he didn’t want either.

He didn’t want to take you home, not in that way, but he saw the way that other men looked at you, and it didn’t feel like an act of jealousy, it was protection. They’d hurt you, they’d use you. But what was he doing?

You were an enigma in Leon’s mind and maybe that’s what excited him. He couldn’t fit you into any box. You weren’t his girlfriend, you weren’t his friend, you weren’t his fuck-buddy - it was something entirely different.

The moment he first spoke to you the line had been crossed. He was already on the other side of it. Every move he made was wrong. Any choice was a bad one. Leaving you alone, telling you to fuck off, was just sending you to another man, one who’d treat you much worse. Yet, allowing you to stay, linger there beside him, even worse, allow himself to enjoy your presence - wasn’t he the same as the old creep across the room?

Later that night, Leon has you in a hotel room he hadn’t planned on booking. The employee at the front desk knew what you were going upstairs to do. You were both clearly antsy, unprepared to stay, and coming from a social gathering. She stared right through you and saw the future you hadn’t yet.

Leon gets you both a nice room because he’s too old to skimp on things like a nice bed to sleep in - he’ll wake up with back pain if he tries. He told you at the gala that you were getting separate beds, but ended up in a king sized bed with you. He couldn’t even be mad.

You were eager to get your hands on him the moment the door shut, but Leon stopped you, gently grabbing your wrists.

“If we’re doing this again, we’re doing it right this time,” he said, holding your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He looks like he’s not sure whether to lecture you or kiss you.

“Did we mess it up last time? I thought you were experienced.”

“Yeah, we fucked up big time.”

“It’s a good thing we’re doing it again then.”

“No, it’s not,” he whispers into your mouth, kissing you softly.

You knew what it was like to have him so deep inside you that you could feel him hitting your cervix, but this was the first time you’d felt the way he could tease you with only the tip of his tongue.

He would brush his tongue gently over yours and pull back when you tried to reciprocate. It was agonizing, yet tantalizing. If your hands weren’t fiddling with his belt buckle, you’d grab his face and force his lips against yours.

When he caught you trying to unbuckle his belt, he gently took your hands away, and whispered into your ear, “Don’t get greedy.”

You felt the tickle of his stubble against your cheek and then his teeth grazing your neck, threatening to leave marks on your skin, but that would risk the secret rendezvous becoming local news.

His hands were wrapped around your waist, and he guided you backwards to the bed. It took only a few steps backward for the backs of your legs to hit the bed frame, making you topple onto your back on the plush duvet. You expected Leon’s figure looming over you, so when he tried to stand, you took him by the lapels. He let you pull him in for one kiss, giving you only an ounce of the passion he had for you.

“Mm-mm,” he shook his head, pulling back from your lips, making you pout.

He laughed lightly at you, “Patience. You’re gonna like this.”

You wanted to say something snarky back, tell him he didn’t know what you liked yet, tell him you liked his lips on yours, but then he sank to his knees in front of you, next to the bed. He watched your expression shift from irritation to awe, relief, gratitude.

“Spread your legs,” he said, giving you the opportunity to comply before he pushed them apart himself.

Leon took off your heels for you, unbuckling them gently and placing them on the floor with such care. You already felt spoiled before his mouth was placing wet kisses up your ankles to your thighs all the way to the lace trim of your panties. You groaned at the first press of his lips against your clit through the fabric. You couldn’t even blame it on the drunkenness.

He wanted to laugh at how delicate you were, how quickly he could get you to break.

Sliding your panties down your legs, he asked, “Did you wear these for me?”

“Do you like them?”

“Love them,” he said, slipping them into his pocket.

Leon stood up and watched betrayal wash over your face.

“Hold on,” he chuckled, “Don’t get mad yet.”

He took off his jacket and tie, while you watched.

“Just don’t want anyone ruining my best suit,” he mumbled.

Your cheeks were burning, knowing that you were already soaking wet and could very well have left a stain on his suit.

He paid no mind to your embarrassment, though. His gaze was fixed between your thighs, only coming up to meet your eyes when he was on his knees again, so he could watch you melt. He kissed everywhere except for where you really wanted it. His lips and tongue trailed along your thighs and hips, and you thought his teasing would be endless.

“Please, Mr. Kennedy,” you begged.

“Just wanted to see how long it would take for you to say it.”

The noise you made when his tongue made contact with your clit was obscene. You felt him laugh into your core, making you even more embarrassed. Nothing mattered, though, once he dedicated himself to going down on you. He kissed you with a kind of reverence not even your lips had felt. Normally, you’d find the sounds of your wetness embarrassing, but hearing the way he savored the taste of you was sexy.

He didn’t have any further remarks to make you hot and bothered. He needed nothing to push your buttons because you were giving him every reaction he wanted. Leon let you tug on his hair, despite the fact that he would rarely let anyone near it. You didn’t need to force him to do anything though because he was giving you exactly what you wanted, a determination, a devotion to this like no other man before.

For once you were trying not to come because it felt so good you couldn’t stand the idea of losing the feeling. You only ended up lasting five minutes at maximum, but neither of you were counting.

You tried to warn him that you were close, but all that came out was incoherent babbling, which quickly turned to sobs of relief. You were on the verge of tears while your arousal was soaking his face. He led you through your orgasm with his soft lips, and then stood up and leaned over you, meeting you face to face. You weren’t sure whether you should feel gratitude or embarrassment when you saw his messy hair and plump red lips, but he smiled and kissed you on the cheek, giving you the “my pleasure” to the “thank you” on the tip of your tongue.

Leon stepping back to take off his belt felt like a cue for you to get on your knees, but watching you get up off the bed, Leon said, “Leaving already?”

He wouldn’t have been mad if you were, as long as you got home safe.

“No, I was gonna return the favor.”

“It wasn’t a favor. I enjoyed myself, too.”

“Letting me down easy? I promise I’ll do a good job.”

“I’m not doubting your abilities, but that’s not what I want right now.”

Truthfully, he would feel wrong doing it. It wouldn’t be sexy to see the innocence in your eyes. It would feel criminal, like he was corrupting you in an irreversible manner.

“What do you want right now?”

You wanted to make him unfold in front of you, so you could level the playing field.

“You know what I want. Unless, you’re tired.”

The dazed look in your eyes lingered, and ever the worrier, Leon needed to know that you were still fully into this.

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t need a break?”

“It’s been like five minutes,” you whined, “That’s a long enough break.”

“I thought an orgasm would satisfy you, at least for a bit, but you’re still so impatient.”

“You can’t just stand there almost naked and expect me not to want you.”

“You don’t need to flatter me. You already have me.”

Desperation coursed through your veins, causing you to whine, “Oh my god, Leon, just fuck me already!”

Leon looked at you wide-eyed, a smirk of amusement barely concealed by a stern expression on his face. You weren’t on a last name basis, but he hadn’t expected the first time you’d say his first name would be in a sentence so demanding and naughty. It felt like insubordination, even though it wasn’t.

“I didn’t expect you to have such a dirty mouth,” he said, stepping towards you slowly.

Your nerves were high but your arousal was higher.

When he didn’t get a response from you, he said, “You’re going all quiet on me now, huh? Pretending to be a good girl again?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kennedy…”

There was something inside of you that needed him to be proud of you, but the apology was still mostly in the hopes of gaining what you wanted.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, pretty girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You looked at him through dewy, yet grateful eyes.

“You can’t help it when you’re like this, right?”

His fingers started playing with your pussy again, feeling your evident arousal, which hadn’t subsided post-orgasm.

You nodded, giving him a pitiful, yet adorable look.

“Please…” you said, after a beat of silence, minus the sounds of your wetness.

“Please what?”

“Please, Mr. Kennedy…”

He smiled and laughed lightly, realizing you assumed he wanted respect rather than clarification.

“No, baby, I want you to ask for what you want,” he said, brushing your hair out of your face and rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“I want you,” you said, barely being able to think with his hands still touching you.

“Okay, I wanna go slow, though, yeah?”

You nodded, wanting it now, in whatever fashion he would give it to you.

You thought slow sex was boring sex until Leon came into your life. He brought a heightened passion to every encounter regardless of the speed of his thrusts. His lips were on yours, capturing every breath until he couldn’t stand the thought of not hearing your pretty noises.

His kisses trailed down your cheek to your jaw to your neck all delicate. His breath in your ear telling you how beautiful you looked and how good you were being. His words made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but his fingers brushing your nipples made your back arch off the mattress. Not to mention the slow strokes of his dick, coaxing needy moans from your mouth.

You thought you’d be begging for it harder and faster, but every thrust inside you felt deeper and that was beyond satisfying. Soon, your legs were pressed up against your chest and he was so deep inside you that you could see his dick in your abdomen with every thrust. The feeling of him hitting that sensitive spot inside you was bringing you closer to the edge, but the sight was what was making your eyes roll back into your head.

Leon saw how close you were and he whispered to you, sweet and sexy all in one, “I can feel you squeezing around me, baby. You gonna come for me?”

You wanted to say, “Uh-huh”, but it came out as a strangled moan and then, “Daddy!” as you came.

He ignored the slight pang of guilt that came with the word for a moment to let himself drink in the overpowering feeling of pleasure. His orgasm following yours quickly.

Lying next to you, after you both came back from oblivion, he asked the dreaded question, “Did you call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to. It just came out. Did it make you feel weird?”

“A little, but it was hot. I think you could’ve said anything coming out of your mouth would be hot, though.”

Leon holds you while you sleep and tries to forget about any lingering guilt he feels after you call him daddy. Your warm body pressed against his and the feeling of your steady heartbeat and soft breathing seem to do the trick. 

The next morning he calls you a cab back to your apartment. You both have busy schedules.

You ask him on your way out, “My 19th birthday is coming up and I’m having a party. Do you wanna come?”

You’re hoping he’ll say ‘yes’, sort of expecting him to based on the night before.

But he doesn’t. He says, “No offense, but I think a 37 year old man hanging out with a bunch of teenagers would be kind of weird. Don’t you think?”

There’s a twinge of embarrassment inside you, realizing that he was right and you probably shouldn’t have even asked. Then again, you really want more time with him, so you say, “But you hang out with me and it’s not weird.”

You thought that was the truth, but when he doesn’t meet your gaze, you continue, “Is it?”

Leon sighs before speaking. “We really shouldn’t be doing this.”

It’s the nicest way he can say it, but it hurts.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too young for me.”

“I wasn’t too young for you last night.”

The statement hits him hard, even if you didn’t mean for it to - it’s just true.

“Yeah,” he says, not knowing if he means that you weren’t too young for him to have sex with or that you were. Neither answer feels good.

With tears in your eyes, you ask, “Did you use me for sex? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No,” he says, “I actually care about you believe it or not, but that’s why we can’t keep doing this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You deserve someone who can give you more than this.”

Leon wipes the tears off your cheeks and you ask, “Why can’t you give me more? You could be that person.”

“No, I can’t.”

The unsaid apology fills his blue eyes, and you accept it, reluctantly, when you stare into them.

He kisses your forehead as a final goodbye and says, “If you need anything, you can always call me.”

You hug him tightly, holding something that will never be yours, just borrowing time. He allows you to, rubbing your back. This is all he can give you…