#dark!leon kennedy x reader

[explorevenus]

baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5k

description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting

a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33

hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.

And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.

You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.

It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.

No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.

Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything. 

With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.

For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.

Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.

You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.

It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.

And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.

He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.

Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.

Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.

But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.

He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”

Silence. He felt like he had been shot.

“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership. 

Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.

He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.

A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you. 

Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration. 

You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.

Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.

On his side, of course.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.

But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.

You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.

“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.

But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.

“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.

His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.

Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.

“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”

You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine. 

“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”

Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.

You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.

He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless. 

“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”

A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…

“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”

You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.

He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up. 

He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.

Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.

“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.

His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”

You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.

“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”

Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.

Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.

That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.

Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”

His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.

You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.

Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.

“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.

You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.

He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take. 

In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?

In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.

Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.

Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.

“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”

He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance. 

After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.

You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.

Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.

You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.

“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.

You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.

You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.

“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”

And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.

His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.

“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”

Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.

It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.

[reidentevilleon]

"N-no...no" Leon whispers as he softly cries

He's spread. Eagle style naked on the bed

"No..."

A slight fart slips out of Leon

*farts*

*Leon cries*

[gigabyte-flare]

Oh my God I'm glad I stumbled onto this, time to binge read all five parts 👀

Hello, You (Part One) || Dark Leon Kennedy x Reader

(I KNOW I'M DOING REQUESTS BUT THIS IDEA HIT ME LIKE A BUS AND I WROTE IT ALL OUT IN A FEW HOURS SO TAKE IT)

MASTERLIST HERE!

You're something special, something Leon's never noticed before. And he's willing to do anything to make you his. You're connected, don't you know that?

Warnings/content: I WOULD CLASSIFY THIS AS A SEMI DARK FIC, suggestive language and allusions so NO MINORS THANK YOU KINDLY, fem reader, Y/N used, from Leon's perspective, mention of violence, OOC RE6 Leon, very stalker vibes.

This is inspired by the Netflix series 'You'.

Word count in full: 3K estimate

So here’s a face I’ve never seen before. In all of my years working here I’ve never once seen anyone like you. Everyone else in every other division either looks miserable or hungover from celebrations after assignments came to a close. But you don’t look the type. So, who are you?

No, you’re different. You’re not here for the cheap coffee and bland conversations between checking records, you’re here for the job. I can see it in the way you scan over every file individually on that screen. You’re an intelligent creature, aren’t you? Investigative, a sleuth if you will.

You don’t look upset about your position even though you clearly deserve better, you look at peace with it. Something’s stressing you outside of your work and you want, no, need, an easy occupation to work through.

You’re not like anyone I’ve seen before, and for some reason I’m drawn to you. More than I’ve ever been to anyone. I’ve only just seen you and now I want to know more.

You’re not trying to look good while you’re here, but you also don’t want to look unkept. Your hair’s just slightly messed up, you’ve been working hard today. There’s pen ink staining your pointer finger so you clearly proofread your notes too much. An overthinker. You take pride in your work. No you’re not looking for attention, but you’d like a bit. I can tell from your choice of jewellery, the little decisions you made on smaller details.

A single silver chain necklace with a lily hanging from it. Just like that ring on your middle finger, that delicate one with a band filled with the phases of the moon. Environmentally attracted. Not enough to weigh down your outfit, but enough to catch the eye of someone looking a little closer. Someone like me.

From your foot out to the side I can see your favour in self expression. You’re not wearing some tacky skirt up at your thighs hoping some braindead dickhead will try to sneak a look at your panties and ask you out on a date. You’re in jeans that fit you snug enough to be comfortable, but also just enough to let the imagination wander if someone really wanted it to.

And I think I want it to. Plus you’re pairing it off with some fun socks that you clearly wear just for yourself. You still want it to be you under the faded green screen light of the monitor.

The best part in all of this is you’re not twirling your hair and staring at me like I owe you something. Like I’m nothing but meat to you. I mean you haven’t even realised I’m here yet. And then you’re looking at me, through me.

Hello, you.

“Hey, you need anything?” Only for you to keep looking at me like that. I think I could actually die happy if I were looking at that face as it all came to an end. I’d get pummelled by monsters all over again if it were to save you. “Yeah, uh, Brooks sent me down here to grab some intel we got.” And you give me a smirk. Not out of snark or cruelty, but because you’re now hooked on my works. You want to know what I need. You’re a giver. I can tell. “You gonna tell me who on or do you want to search the database yourself for the next three hours?” You’re funny. You’re genuinely funny and that smirk seems to grow into a proper grin when you see my own smile form. I told you, you’re a giver. I know you already and we’ve barely said a word to each other.

It’s a clear sign there’s something here.

“As fun as that sounds, I think that’s more your specialty. Mikaela Reid, if it hopefully doesn’t take three hours.” Now your smirk is cocky. Brighter, a touch of mischief. You're mischievious. You know I know you love your work and you’re not even questioning. Because thanks to the years of training you instantly know I’m good at reading people. What you don’t know is I’m reading deeper into you than I ever have with anything else. Your fingernails are cut clean, and you type like you’ve been doing this for years. You’re so focused, those teeth biting into your lips as you scan through file after file. It must be a habit, because now I’m noticing a crease in those lips from how often you’ve done it. “Looks like we got a report in a day ago, is this who you’re looking for?” You give me this look. One that’s an invite, an invite for me to walk between your cluttered desk and the empty one next to you stacked with files people obviously expect you to get done for them to slide up behind you. And I will gladly take that invitation.

I wonder just how obvious it is that I’m not looking at this bioterrorist too closely when I lean over your shoulder, I’m too busy looking at you. You know you’re amazing from afar but up close like this you’re nothing short of breathtaking. Just the way you exist takes my breath away. “Yep, that’s her. Recognize that scar over the neck.” “Says she got taken into custody a few hours ago, I can send this through to your personal database if you want to look into it further. Maybe do your own detective work?” Your voice is so soft. Just the way you talk has me enthralled. How every syllable seems to fall so perfectly into place, how you pace out your nouns and adjectives. You make me love English. You make me love words.

“I’d appreciate it.” “Well if the Leon Kennedy appreciates it, it must be worth it.” Don’t say my name like that. Like it means something. Like you have to please me or praise me to get something.

You already have me and I don’t even know your name. “Well it’s definitely worth it if it means I get to talk to the…” It’s a subtlety, a hint I’m dropping that I really really hope you’ll catch. Either that or I sound like an idiot. “The Y/N L/N, hidden treasure of the DSO.” And you’re sarcastic too. Funny, smart, sarcastic, drop dead gorgeous.

Even if you said it as if it were a lie you really are a hidden treasure, Y/N. I’m already ready to drop down onto one knee. I’ve got your name now, and looking at your face it really does suit you. I mean sure I knew it already from your name badge, but some people just use the spare ones from the old break room to avoid the board breathing down their neck. But you didn’t do that, you were sincere. I’m sure your face will suit our kids, too.

“You must be, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here.” I hope that was the right thing to say. Maybe I was too forward, or rude. God, how long have you worked here? Did I just fuck this up? But you laugh at it, just a touch. Enough to make your chest bounce, and as perverted as that may seem it wasn’t because I was staring at it. I’m just staring at all of you in hopes of not getting caught. “Yeah well people like you don’t usually come down here. It’s usually Helena, or- or some intern Hunnigan shoots over.”

Christ, people like me? Is that how you see me? Some stuck up broad who only focuses on the missions, who works just to get more work done? Someone whose status is more than them as a person? You’re killing me over here, Y/N. Let me take you out to dinner, show you who I am behind the jobline. Treat you how you should be treated. And you’re talking again. “But no, I’ve only been working here a few months.”

Long enough to hear about me, though. And to make me feel better about not recognising you. That won’t happen again. I’m studying every feature like it’s notes before my next mission. You’re my next mission. You're something special. You've got the DSO's pride and joy eating right out of the palm of your dainty little hand.

And frankly I'm loving every second of it. “You seem to pick up the slack well for someone so new.” “Well, I’m flattered.”

Of course you are. Because no one has taken the time to appreciate you and the work you put in despite being hidden in a dark corner of the workplace. I could do that for you. “And for good reason. Well, hidden treasure, I’ll let you get back to your work." "Thank you kindly." Even more sass, god you're a catch. "I look forward to your contribution to my detective work.” You give me that smile one last time and I’m already signing the court papers. I would marry you in a shitty community church if it meant seeing that smile daily.

You’re smart, I know that. I can tell by how you keep eye contact with me before I turn to leave the room. But not that smart. Not smart enough to hear your phone hit the carpet as you exit the building, listening to some type of music over an old mp3 player through cheap earbuds. Maybe you like it classic. I’ll get you better ones soon, I swear. It’s even better that you’re distracted and you leave late, later than everyone else so you can’t see me follow in your steps a few seconds later to take your phone. I’ll return it, trust me I will.

Just once I know what I need to know.

Smart, but not smart enough to password protect your phone. God, after working through encrypted files and protected records for months how can you not password protect your phone, Y/N? What if some creep had found it? Some animal who’d use this information to find you? To hurt you? I mean if anything it’s lucky I’m the one who has it.

There’s the usual things in here. Photos with a friend group, nights out where you’re obviously forcing a smile. You want to enjoy yourself, hell you’re trying to, but that crease next to your lips is giving it all away. I’m not just some guy, you know. I’ve worked with this type of evidence before, I know how to connect the dots. I can tell when something’s forced. A few photos of sales you’ve been looking at, mostly clothes. Don’t get me wrong I love your style but you shouldn’t be trying to bankrupt yourself like this. I could get these for you, y’know. It’s hardly any cash out of my wallet. Which is why I can’t understand why you won’t take a better paying division. I know it’s for the peace of mind, but you look like you’re living meal to meal on frozen food. They’re taking advantage of you, the DSO always does that to the ones with a good heart. You’re just too much of a giver to say anything.

Don’t worry, Y/N. When we’re together you can stay in your cozy corner of the office without worrying about money problems. I’ll take care of you.

No dating apps in sight but you do have social media, nothing too serious though. A few posts of mental motivation or maybe a photo or two where you felt pretty. Pretty enough to post, anyway. Enough to milk a few likes from some a-holes scrolling through their feed who get hard when a girl in makeup shows off their bare shoulder in a certain way.

C’mon, we both know you’re better than that. At least you do it in a beautiful, artistic way. One where your makeup is natural or you’re wearing none at all, you on veranda chairs as a silhouette against a sunset or standing in the rain. There’s a genuine smile in that one. You looked like you liked the rain, I should’ve trusted my instinct.

Then there’s your messages app, which almost has me cringing. Especially your messages between your friends, that groupchat is the worst of it. You just constantly seem on the edge of throwing yourself into the abyss. I can’t say I blame you. Just reading their responses is ready to give me a migraine.

But then there’s a guy. This person that’s sending you updates on his day and photos of him shirtless in bed. And the worst part is you’re responding to him with your own messages. With your own pictures. More tasteful, of course. A big comfy shirt, it suits you. But you’re being nice to him. Too nice to be just friends.

Who the fuck is this, Y/N?

[dailyleonkennedy]

Story of my life

[squazmine]

TWITTER LINKS 18+ mdni

giving re2 leon an assjob until he cums in his underwear

using your wand with re2 leon

riding re4 leon when he comes back from a mission

re4 leon making out with your tits

needy for re6 leons cock and taking it all

breakfast with re6 leon

riding id leons boot when he's mad

di leon finger fucking you in front of the mirror

[ashiemochi]

🌱 request for Kira 💕

[melankkholy]

mission accomplished

✎ Leon's a certified manwhore, really. You know that, but you can be worse than him. So what's the most that can happen in a hotel room with a reputedly flirtatious womanizer like Leon after an onerous mission? ID LEON SUPREMACY.

cw: getting it in a hotel room, cunnilingus, d in p aka mating press yay, creampie, size kink size kink size kink, protection? forgotten. fem! reader, he's just silly therefore beware of the corny lines, biting, MDNI

“You wanna get dinner when this is all over?” 

You couldn’t say if it was worth nipping in the bud at that juncture, but this whole little odyssey with Leon definitely starts with that very query. It wasn’t a figure of speech; you really got him down on his knees in a random hotel room.  

The lavender air of the hotel room, the gunpowdery whiff, notes of old spice emanating from the tender curve of Leon’s neck, is still wreaking havoc on your brain after the shared kisses. Your legs buckle, and you’re in sackcloth and ashes, all thanks to wearing those mean machines, Jimmy Choos. But you feel sexy when you’re close to his reach, and you adore the vamp of your stilettos—the panorama of him sinking between your legs as he nudges you down on the edge of the mattress. 

“Panties off, pretty.” His singsong cadence is cajoling; of course, you get the gist of it.  

“Demanding, are we?” You flout, pixilated and all mawkish. Lifting your hips only slightly, you hitch up your legs and pull down the panties that have been eclipsing your love-starved pussy for hours, and with a sloppy thud, the only piece separating Leon from your lovely cunt thumps down on the linoleum floor.  

“Well, now you know why I said nay to dessert at dinner.”  

Such corny, coquettish platitudes only serve to draw a slumberish smile to your lips. You have no idea how men with such beautiful faces can be saddled with a palate full of sophomoric slapstick. But a dick is a dick, and something tells you that Leon won’t let you go empty-handed on this one. 

“Fuck...” You tilt your head, tracing a moony arc, and your chin is high, all the while splaying your hands over the fluffy, freshly laundered sheets.  

How you got here and his current vanishing in the viscosity of the caudle in your pussy is a great mystery (well, not really, except that it’s a story about two horny agents renting a hotel room on the condition that they make it safely back from their mission in China), yet you love the tender lips pressed to the plush of your juicy slit.  

Leon couldn’t leave you untasted, albeit the foreplay feels superfluous. Skipping the foreplay would be a felony. It’s a rule not to skip it in cadaver: A manwhore has got to know how to eat his girl out. This is precisely why Leon Kennedy is a well-known and beloved whore in the DSO and the femdom.  

He puts you in his mouth and eats you ‘til his teeth rot.

He loves it when you pull his hair—what a slut—sometimes even honoring you with groans that sizzle your ears ambrosially. In this case, Leon’s priority is to gorge on you and perhaps make you cum more than once during the course of the night. But what about himself?  

Of course, by the time he pulls down the indigo jeans he’s wearing, he will already be drenched in thick globs of precum.  

He has a couple of minutes to spare to reflect on that issue, as all he does in those enchanted split seconds is to lap at the dripping amrita from your hole that exudes for his benefit.

“Too fucking sweet.”  

His mouth, which has been yapping non-stop since he was assigned to the assignment alongside you, is apparently very well trained at the eating-pussy phenomenon, and he can’t help himself, clawing at your thighs and pulling you into his mouth; you’re half too thunderstruck to even buck your hips closer.

His tongue is sugar-coated. Even more delish as he drifts on and on, on your pussy, maybe even romantic, no matter how many times he says he’s a typical man for your average overnight, the lies are unfolded, and he gets all the more addicted.

“Leon. I’m—’m fuck.” 

You’re so out of it that you’re babbling whatever pops into your head and out of your mouth. Insidious blues lock on you when you push your eyes open, expecting to see that he’s got it, that you’ve grasped the notion of his generosity. Of course, he has to make it all about himself.  

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Comes between each of his licks, and you can’t muster the strength to even hold your own fucking head. His mouth heats up a beatific pulsation within you when he rises up to your face, and he puts his business on your lips. Kissing on a first date (if fucking can be excused as a reason for a first date) is idiotically discouraged, but this man isn’t going to listen to such absurd dictates when he’s drunk on your essence.

To which you are more than up for, so you sweetly reciprocate his kisses.

Thwip. Thwip.  

It grates on your ears, and you know what it is. Leon hastily tugs at his belt, wary of missing a second. Free yet? Ha, it’s not in the cards. His boxer briefs are still in the way for both of you.  

“I wish men wore panties too,” you bitch up, purpling your pouting lip. Leon almost lurks still. Is the absurdity of your words, the functioning of your brain catching up with his, or is Leon high on scotch and pussy? 

Or are you already the pot calling the kettle black?

The possibility of the former, however, is an assumption that is fraught with misconception when you pull down Leon’s boxer ‘cause he’s already in the same boat, but with a hole in it. If the room had been bathed in those bludgeoning fluorescents, instead of the hazy dim lights, you would have seen that his boxers were more profusely soaked than your panties. Viva the dim lights... or the fact that you don’t even care how wet he is.

“What?”

The anticipatory look he gives you can only signal that he would like you to soar onto the covers.

“Legs up, roll over.”

“Nope. Missionary is for sore losers.” You mumble it in a faux, patronizing tone, and you’re a fucking liar. As nice as it sounds to track his face in missionary and stab your fingernails on his back—despite the fact that you broke two of them in the line of duty—you want to ride him more than anything else.

“Losers, huh?” Leon grabs your wrists nicely and stamps you on the bed. “Sleep with losers, you’re as good as a loser, gorgeous. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, yeah?”

Your head, sunken into the pillow, floats slowly on lint clouds. To watch him from below is like setting foot for the first time on an unearthed planet made of exploded blues. Fuck. You’re so high that the man has turned you into a slam poet.

He hoists each calf of yours and hooks your legs over the frame of his shoulders, leaving your pussy bared, and the December cold seeping in makes your insides flutter. If it weren’t for his pelvis pressing against you on the corner of the bed, you could very well trip on your ass and break a pretty serious bone.

“Keep your legs like this.” He prelects you, very laconic.

You feel so giddy when the raw head of his cock, which he rubs in the palm of his hand, slithers and mellows at your entrance as he works himself in with assiduous thrusts.

“Tight as hell,” you hear him croak, but you aren’t quite in the zone enough to pay it any mind. Your bleary eyelids are only half-lidded, if at all, not fully opaque—so that you can catch a glimpse of him over the nebula blurs on his visage under your batting eyelashes.

“Shit, baby, you can’t even take the fucking tip.” Leon’s whispers are eulogies of the lovely cunt he first got drunk on the tang of and now will drool on the tightness of. He gives a roll of his hips, but never the thing you so need—he harrows you so blatantly.

Barely you lift your hips, humble and tentative, and meet his impish prodding, but his splayed hand on your ribcage forbids you from venturing and fucking yourself on his cock any deeper. The loss of levity on your face and the line of your eyebrows knitted in frustration is absolutely delicious to behold for an asshole cheeky fuck like Leon.

“Stop trying to fuck yourself and use your words, would you?”

For no apparent reason, his voice haunts you as if you’ve heard the last announcement of your fleeing plane.

“Come on, girl. Get it out.” Leon whispers again and layers all the clouds of discord in your head one by one. Those humiliating clouds of thoughts in your head poof, pan, flake, and evaporate from your slightly ajar lips in a single cry.

“Leon. Please. Gulp. Please. Fuck me.”

Ouch. These words will always conjure up visions of shooting yourself with your own gun when the alcohol drains out of your veins in the morning, especially after these foul entreaties.

This chain of events, in which Leon has pulled a rabbit out of the hat on a night that was already in his favor, is capped off with your fuck-me-please beggary. (Propaganda even.)

“You got it, beautiful.” He nuzzles you—metaphorically speaking—with a cloying coo, albeit with an ardent clench on your hips. The purple shadows that will mark your skin for a few weeks are right in his wheelhouse.

The normal you go like, “Oh no, I can’t be such a slut overnight, and for a man? Humor me, bitch,” you’d be taking the mickey out of yourself.

Leon’s dick, however, is just divine. He’s inside you, and he’s hard, a diamond in the rough, balls buried deeply recessed.

The kisses you share are sporadic, wet, and perhaps absurdly romantic for such a ‘trivial’ night. In Leon’s mind, the blinking light bulb recalls a blaring alarm; the realization that something so good is manipulating a distorted reality comes to him in the seconds when he’s already hammering away at your cervix, but without violence.

“Fuck.” The kiss breaks abruptly, like a tape rewinding inside both your collective heads.

“The condoms.” Hits Leon square in the head, but what’s the big deal? Your legs are up, in the air, bless the yoga gods, just like the image of that chick in her heels getting knocked up by Patrick Bateman in that movie, but the guy twitching inside you is preaching condoms to you.

“Leon.”

You’re on the last rung, and his lips are saliva-lidden mess, melded with the cherry tinge of your lipstick. You really should’ve dabbed it off.

He blinks at you, and he owes it to you to correct his mistake immediately, filling you to the hilt with a lingered and deep-seated thrust.

“Leon!”

Your cry strikes him rapt, and he savors that familiar, sinful tightness around himself. So needy, he relishes the feel of you squeezing his cock. You sharply suck in the breath upon the touch of his teeth as he bites a bruise under the delicate flesh under your throat, where it smells deliciously dulcet. He’s drunk on you, drunk on the saccharine moans and whimpers that spring from your lips, and to be honest, he’s been dreaming about this the whole time.

Men grow wiser as they get older, but as Leon grew older, he indulged in one-night stands where he devoted himself to pretty, pretty women making love to him.

It’s bitter that you’re one of those women, but you still want him to use you, use you so badly and carelessly.

You don’t know how much longer your fuck-drunk head can keep up, but he knows very well that you’re getting close. He pulls back slightly, releasing your ankles and reaching between your legs with his gun-wielding hand to work his thumb on your clit. You’re so desperate for his affection, and tonight, he feels too lavish not to deprive you of that dazzling bliss.

Your moans echo in the hotel room like complaints with a hissy pitch, as this painful overstimulation will drive you mad if he persists for even one single minute longer.

“’s okay, let yourself go, cum for me, pretty.” Leon’s gruff sighs ebb and flow as he brings you back from the abyss; his pace slows and the he so randomly brushes that spongy spot inside you.

And you listen dully, your eyes almost rolling out of your sockets, but you give him what he wants.

Everything is hectic, wet, warm, extravagant, and that’s the humble reason why he keeps going. Forehead to forehead, you both wind up panting, but Leon still gets an A+ for looking good when he fucks you. Your glazed eyes are riveted on his night-blue shades of pupils in the darkness. You both know what that lock of eyes signifies.

Before you can say a word, Leon pulls his cock out of your slickly coated pussy with the most obscenely slick sound.

Something inside you frantically pleads that he should be still inside you, what a loss, but Leon takes your hand in his. He’s in need, after all.

“You’ve got this. Go on. Make me cum.”  

Give his cock three or five sloppy strokes, and he cums on your stomach. Easy.  

You slide your legs down; there’s no way you can hold them up any longer, and he groans when you let go of his softening cock by memory, as if you are discarding an object that is no longer of use to you. Your legs dangle over the edges of the bed, and Leon closes his eyes, if only fleetingly, to soak in the moment, his cheek buried in the crook of your neck.

Too long or too short; you don’t know how much time stretches by; you’re so wired that your brain feels like it’s melted and fucked as though the chunks of it are oozing out of your ears. It’s almost cozy. Disgustingly.

But all good things come to an end.  

So at the end of the night, still lying in the topsy-turvy bed like it’s your own vaulted coffin, you watch Leon slip his jeans on with the rolls of your restless eyes. He’s sitting next to you.  

When he’s done, he turns and flashes you the cheesiest wink in the world before rolling out of bed. It’s always shocking you that how corny he can be. Just in the past few minutes, he was fucking you into this very mattress. Spread your legs kinda shit, fucked your brains out kinda shit.

“Man, this room stinks of sex.” Leon makes a wry face and cups the tip of his nose.

“Get your ass up and take a bath, or I’ll never set foot in here again.”  

You can hardly raise your hand and shoo him away. Mentally you can no longer shield yourself from these crank antics. He knows it all and snorts a long sigh.

“You’re a total goner, beautiful. Well, you’re a big girl. You’ll be fine.” 

Before he closes the suite door, he takes a quick glance at the digits of your phone number that he had you write on the palm of his hand; he has to verify that it’s still written there.

“I’ll give you a weekend wake-up call.” Leon swears up and down and closes the door behind him.

Whump.

Mercifully, the next date is a shoo-in, but it only means that you will have to slog through another evening of seconds, minutes, and hours of listening to his blathering and off-color in-jokes. 

Is it really worth it? 

The answer to that, given that you still can’t bring yourself to get up and wash the drying cum off your stomach, can only be one simple answer. You might as well call Hunnigan and let her know you can’t make it into work for tomorrow.

[murderofravens]

finally got this leon with some hairy arms but now i can't stop having insane thoughts about him with chest hair... mmffgghnnnhhh

dilfy old man leon makes brain go brrrrrr...

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

[part two]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.

[gor3-hound]

CRY FOR ABSOLUTION - LEON S. KENNEDY

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

a/n: heyyy :3 had to make the priest collar edit on picsart so don't look at it too close... um... title from 'absolution' by ghost. thank you @ottermarbles for beta reading !! been working on this slowly while writing commissions... finally here !! rbs and feedback appreciated as always <3

cw: 18+ content, priest!leon, non-religious!reader, dead dove, non-con to dub-con to non-con, victim turned perpetrator, forced breeding, mentions of forcing marriage, religious themes, p in v, creampie, degradation, name calling, breath play

word count: 1.6k words

Leon can sense your presence in the church before he sees you. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his whole body going rigid. He starts murmuring under his breath, eyes shut as he recites the prayer. He’d tried countless times to pray to the Virgin Mary, to strengthen his faith in God so he may resist your advances. To Saint Mary Magdalene, to guide you away from your life of sin. To God Himself to plead that you would leave him alone.

He was sure you were the Devil. Almost certain that you were some cruel test that God had bestowed on him.

He grips the rosary dangling around his neck as your footsteps get closer, whispering one final prayer to God, a desperate plea to give him strength before he faces you, hands trembling as his eyes open to meet yours. Leon couldn’t quite understand how you always managed to avoid the crowds, to worm your way into the Church between services, narrowly avoiding the other priests. You did not care for them, for your faith. You had your eyes set on Leon, a succubus in the flesh that had targeted him so callously.

”While I appreciate your dedication to the Church, I’m afraid the service has already drawn to a close, and there is a lot of work for me to get through before tonight’s service. Perhaps if you return later with the other parishioners, we can s-“

”Father, I hoped to speak to you before the service.” You say as you stalk closer, your heated gaze trailing him. He almost doesn’t hear you speak, the ringing in his ears dampening the sound around him, making your voice nothing more than a faint echo. He’s looking at you, but he’s not seeing you. His gaze is far away as he tries to think of something, anything else. A lump forms in his throat that he cannot dislodge no matter how hard he tries, swallowing to attempt to clear the passage enough so that he felt he could breathe, but with no success. His vision blurs, and he vaguely registers the tears forming in his eyes as you coo, cupping his cheek to wipe the few that fall.

”Please,” he whispers, voice cracking as he gazes at you fully, your face slowly coming into focus. What did he do to deserve this? He was a good man, wasn’t he? He’d tried his best to help the less fortunate, to be kind to everyone he spoke with. Had he committed some sin without realising it? Some blight against God that meant he deserved this? "Please, I don’t want this. You’re misguided, that's all. I can help you. You don’t have to do this.”

As always, his protests fall on deaf ears. He feels the steady stream of tears running down his face, brows pinching together as you back him up into the confessional. His chest continues to grow tighter and tighter until his lungs constrict painfully with each breath. The air gets caught in his throat and makes him choke, his brain shutting down as he just lets you free him from his vestments and tug down his trousers. He's glad to be rid of the collar, at the very least. It feels less like God was bearing down on his throat to drag him to Hell for letting this happen.

The first sob forces its way from his chest as your lips wrap around his cock. He wishes that he could hate the way it felt. It makes him nauseous - makes his head spin, but it feels good. He's at war with himself as to what this means, if enjoying the wet warmth wrapped around him means he's no better than you. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists as he tries to distance himself from your touch.

You pull yourself off of his cock with a pop, rustling around for something in your pocket. The crinkle of a packet has his eyes snapping open again, his eyes honing in on the foil you're holding up between two fingers. Panic seeps into his very core, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. “Thought we could try something new.” You say with a giggle, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

No. No, this couldn't happen to him. He's a priest - he's meant to stay far, far away from the pleasures of the flesh. He had to do something, anything to stop you. He swallows hard, eyes flickering around the confessional, trying to figure a way out of this before you lead him down a path of sin.

Leon isn't sure what happened. One minute, you were tearing open the condom with your teeth, and the next minute, he pounced. His hand gripped your throat to pin you down in the confessional, squeezing tight. His eyes are wide, almost feral as they meet yours, his free hand yanking your underwear down. His movements are clumsy as he prods as your cunt, trying to push his way in. After a few attempts, he manages to hook the tip on your entrance, and he slides home in one thrust.

“Oh.” He breathes out, eyes squeezing shut again. Maybe God wasn't testing him. Maybe this was his reward for being a good follower - all he had to do was breed this pussy full and wed you, and he'd be able to do this as many times as he pleased.

No. This was a test. He must have passed. He succeeded, and this was his reward. A pretty housewife for him to keep bred and safe in his grasp. A woman to cure his cold, lonely nights. He could finally have the family he always wanted. He was angry at you now, yes, but he would forgive you when you accepted his proposal and his seed.

“Temptress.” He hisses between gritted teeth, the hand on your throat tightening. The pressure against your windpipe is bruising, leaving you desperately trying to gasp in breaths through too tight of a passage. “Indecent whore. This is what you wanted, wasn't it? You didn't care when I told you ‘no’, did you? No? Then take it.”

He scoffs as you plead for him to stop again, his brows narrowing in frustration. He didn't want to do this. Leon was a good man. He was a holy man. He couldn't let you ruin him. What if the word of this got out?

“You wanted to ruin me, didn't you? You thought you couldn't take what you wanted from me without consequences? That… fuck… that God wouldn't punish your sins? I'm going to make you take my seed. You're going to be my pretty little wife, and no one will hear about this.”

He thrusts forward particularly violently after his words, his grip on your throat tightening enough that you start thrashing, cunt clenching around his cock enough that he has to halt his movements to stop himself from cumming too soon.

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will drag you down into the deepest depths of Hell with me. I swear it on the Lord Himself.” He grits out, finally releasing his hold on your throat.

He ignores your protests, a muddy mix of guilt and anger swirling in his chest with each plea that falls from your lips. You had shown him no mercy, and yet you expect him to spare you? You were nothing more than a Godless nymph. He would show you the light.

“Do you know your prayers, hmm?” He coos, gripping your chin. The pads of his fingers dig into your cheeks harshly, drawing a pained moan from you. He starts fucking into you again now that his orgasm has fully subsided, letting out a shaky breath at the drag of his length against your gummy walls. “No, of course. You have no respect for the house of the Lord - you just wish to defile it.”

He lets go of your face to hitch your legs over his waist, breaths coming out in heavy pants as he pistons his hips into you, sweat beading against his skin from exertion, bangs stuck flat against his forehead. “Repeat after me.”

‘Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me:’

The words fall past your lips in a daze as you repeat them, his hand reaching up to your throat again, but not squeezing. A warning to continue as he speaks the next line.

‘Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt.’

He's close now, barely able to hold back as he ruts into you helplessly, reduced to nothing more than a dog in heat as you clench around his cock.

‘Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.’

His hips stutter as you repeat the last words of Contrition back to him, his head dropping to the crook of your shoulder as he gasps out sharp breaths. His cock jumps as he orgasms, stuffing you full of his cum with a noise more akin to a whimper than a moan.

He leans back, eyes taking in your appearance. There was some kind of sick satisfaction seeing you broken like this, knowing God had allowed him to take back the part of him you had aimed to destroy.

You would be his. He would keep you as his wife, his prize. He was given a chance to relinquish the sins you had bestowed upon him.

He would not let the opportunity pass.

[melanchol1cs]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[grnherbs]

eigteen plus, mdni

hybrid!leon in a particularly brutal heat, who can't stop his hips from rocking into you time and time again, no matter how hard he tries to escape your scent he can't get enough of it and he buries his nose deeper still into your collar.

he thrusts sloppily over and over, willing himself to somehow get deeper each time and whining when he finds he couldn't physically get closer if he tried. his veined hands gripping the pillow behind your head, whining and fucking up into you, tip reaching the very head of your cervix.

"mph. fuck baby, you feel so fucking tight, this pussy is fucking gripping my cock so good, gonna fill you up till you're dripping with my cum," he leans by your ear and with a sharp thrust he says "and then I'm gonna fuck it back into you."

the feeling of his rough shirt pressed against your sensitive nipples, chaffing them in the best way possible, you were whimpering now, shaking from your third orgasm of the evening. Leon becoming more and more relentless as time grew on. his cock still painfully hard for him.

"you smell so good baby, i don't, you gotta be fucking ovulating, your hormones are fucking insane, can smell you half way down the street sweet girl" his head was warm, a ball of sweat washing down his cheek as he reached his high for the second time.

he shakes through his orgasm, overstimulated but somehow it wasn't enough, as he began to rutt again and again against you "I'm sorry baby,, i can't, i just can't stop, it hurts so bad to not be in you, I'm sorry sweet girl, I'm sorry I'm not myself" he shakes again and again and you stroke your hand against his warm, tear stained cheeks as he chokes out a moan when your legs lock around him. "it's okay lee, just, just use me"

and he sobs at this, relief, hips faltering into you and you swear you can feel his cum slipping out, too full to hold anymore, his wet lips capturing your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the tip. when pulling away he ushers "need to fuc- need to fuck you full of my babies, please, wanna see that stomach so fucking big and swollen, need you to be a pretty momma for me"

[fawnsflowerbed]

Hello, You (Part Four) || Dark Leon Kennedy x Reader

MASTERLIST HERE!

Like a valiant knight, Leon’s preparing to see you to return what’s rightfully yours. But not without a few rules and inner thoughts, of course.

Warnings/content: I WOULD CLASSIFY THIS AS A SEMI DARK FIC, suggestive language and allusions so NO MINORS THANK YOU KINDLY, fem reader, Y/N used, from Leon's perspective, mention of violence, OOC RE6 Leon, very stalker vibes.

This is inspired by the Netflix series ‘You’.

Word count: 1,144

The carpet leading to your home feels like walking on cloud 9, like I’m about to step through the pearly gates into the closest thing to heaven.

Three steady knocks at your door, your voice an angelic calling from further into the house. It’s almost like a siren’s call. And I’d gladly be pulled in.

“Just a minute!”

Y/N I’d wait outside your door for months if it meant eventually getting to see you. And then in a few seconds there you are.

Christ I could drop dead right now and I’d be the happiest soul in hell.

Messy, but not to the point where it’s not intriguing. It makes me want to know what you were up to before you answered the door, and part of me thinks you know that. You look comfortable, too. One of those bigger shirts like the ones you wore in those photos online where your bra strap is showing. The only difference is right now you don’t seem to be wearing one. God, you’re gonna give me a heart attack Y/N. You leave very little to the imagination.

But that also means you don’t have that little matching number on, and as much as that disappoints me I could never be more thankful to see you in one of your most vulnerable states. I can’t help but smile because that’s the kind of effect you have on me. You make me smile without realising it.

“Hey, you look comfy.”

“Yeah well I figured since you’d be half an hour I might as well.”

You shrug as you speak. You should stop taking your words for granted, sweetheart. You have such a way with them. Hell, you have me hanging on your every vowel.

And you seem to answer my prayer for you to speak again.

“You clean up pretty nice without your usual work attire, too.”

You’re lucky if I don’t scoop you up in my arms, pin you against the wall and kiss you until you’re breathless right this second. And that’s the most PG that thought could be.

Your compliment doesn’t feel forced or like you’re hoping it will get you laid so you can spare a few more minutes with me. It’s genuine, as plain to see as the sweet look you’re giving me as you lean against your doorway.

I give you a bashful chuckle with a head shake. You make me feel good. You make me believe in what you say, Y/N. If you could tell me the sky is purple and I’d gladly agree with you.

“Guess I had the same idea as you. Don’t want you thinking I’m a stiff obsessed with work despite what some people might say.”

“Oh I’d never make an assumption like that, Leon. Not when I haven’t gotten to know you yet.”

You want to get to know me too.

You’re likely the sweetest human being I’ve ever met. I’d rip my beating heart out of my chest and hand it to you right on your doorstep at this very moment if it meant you could see just how much I want you. But I need to play this strategically. I can’t scare you off.

Not like I did with her.

“Well that’s sweet of you. Here.”

And just like that I lose all connection I have to your life. Or at least that’s what I’m hoping you’ll think if you had any suspicion that I went through your phone. Which would be the truth, but still.

“Thank you, really. You’re a lifesaver.”

You’re grateful. Genuinely grateful, not just saying it to be nice. I’m happy that you’re so open with me, but also worried. You need to watch your back, love. Some people might take advantage of that. People like Benji.

“It was nothing. You, on the other hand, are the real lifesaver. That intel you gave us? Absolute gold. Despite what you might think you really are the hidden treasure of the DSO.”

Mental note: stop fucking talking right now, Leon. Do not pour your heart out to a woman you’ve only interacted with twice. That is a major red flag and you’re now lucky if she so much as acknowledges you from this point forward.

But no, you’re not freaked out. Not scared or uncomfortable, in fact you look like you’re blushing. And its the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re timid, unable to process the fact that you’re getting praise for your work.

You are too good to be true, Y/N.

“It wasn’t a problem, really.”

“Yeah but you still saved our asses. C’mon, take a little credit Y/N. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Leon.”

You don’t have to thank me for anything ever. If you wanted to make it up to me in any way you just have to exist. Keep existing. Keep looking at me that way.

“Well, I should probably get going.”

Yeah before I blurt out on a whim how I attempted to murder your hook up and now he’s unconscious in my house.

“Wait.”

Or not. That deep darkest part of me is hoping you’ll miraculously invite me inside but we both know that’s not happening. Not yet anyway. Or maybe you’re about to ask me something about the phone I just handed away. Ask if it’d been hacked. Who am I kidding you work around this stuff all the time, I’m sure you can practically smell it on there.

“It’s uh, it’s only fair you take my number after taking care of my phone, right?”

Well I’ll be damned.

Hesitating, unaware of if you’re overstepping my boundary. You are such a saint, Y/N. Thinking of everyone before yourself.

“Seems only fair to me.”

I’m teasing and you can tell, because you’re smiling that cheeky smile you gave me back at the office.

“Just give me a second.”

I’m watching you so intently as you walk through your house to the dining table, taking a pen. From what I can see your place is pretty well put together. It’s not much, and I could definitely buy you much better in the future, but it certainly seems very you. You’ve still got what looks like work papers spread out on said dining table. You really do love your work.

Then you’re back at the door handing off a scrap of paper.

“I um, I hope you need more intel soon.”

An attempt at a smooth response. You’re adorable, Y/N. Cute. Maybe a little too innocent.

“You never know. See you around, Y/N.”

“See ya.”

A little wave, just enough to acknowledge I’m leaving. Still so timid. Waiting until I take a backwards step to make my departure before you close the door.

I just hope when you open your phone up it’s not obvious I’ve synced it up to my laptop back home.

For safety reasons, of course.

[penyroyaletea]

i miss when resident evil was blowing up and my fyp would be filled with leon edits :(

[explosiongamora]

Being mostly unloved your whole life with out much attention from people around you 🤝 loving obsessive yandere characters

[ashiemochi]

happy new years!! <3

(im not ignoring my inbox!! im not in a good place mentally when it comes to art lately ((or anything really)) but here's to hoping 2025 would be better!!)