#just pathetically in love Leon <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[melancholyhigh]

CRUSH CULTURE.

ft. college au!leon x reader

synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.

tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).

note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)

masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3

You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.

You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.

You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.

It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.

You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.

Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.

You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.

Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.

You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.

That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.

–-

“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.

“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.

You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.

“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.

“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.

“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.

“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”

“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.

He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.

“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.

“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.

He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”

You shake your head no in response.

“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.

“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.

He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.

You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.

Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.

“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.

He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.

Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.

“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.

You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.

You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.

You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.

His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.

Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.

When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.

Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.

You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.

You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.

You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.

He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.

“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.

“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.

“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.

“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.

“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.

“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.

Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.

“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.

“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.

Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.

“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”

It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.

“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.

“It took fucking me to find that out?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[killuintense]

share Leon links idc audio and porn GIRL WE STARVING.

KSJFJSKFKSKDK MAAAAAN i always end up spoiling y'all with what u want!!

but well, i leave my favorite videos when i want to think about Leon... yk 🤨

TW: explicit sexual content, links of p0rn videos, sorry leon i love you but never is enough ‹𝟹

LINK 1 — this video IS SO Leon re2r coded, so kind and gentle kissing you all the time, sometimes the rhythm of his thrusts stumbles a little because he is holding back the urge to sink into you because he loves the warmth you give him when you squeeze around him. He kisses you, he adores you, he LOVES kissing you on the mouth, it doesn't matter if it's messy, he just wants your hot little mouth to contain him. However, in the end it is almost impossible for him and he ends up speeding up the penetrations because he just wants to cum and he can't stand another second without the feeling of your heat enveloping him while he cums in your tight pussy.

It's really my favorite video because physically the boy also looks a lot like Leon uwu !

LINK 2 LINK 3— only Leon eating pussy 🤨 we already know that he is a fan of doing it, he can't help it and when he is too fond of you and wants to push you away, he grabs you by the waist and makes you lean all your weight on his face because he LOVES IT, and not always It has to be when you are lying down, sometimes he just takes advantage of any moment to bury himself between your legs and eat you anywhere. he is so desperate.

LINK 4 — for some reason this reminds me of Leon re4r, he would be the quite vocal guy and always when it came time to cum he would moan like this. An interesting point is that he loves to fill you, fill you enough so that your pussy is not capable enough to contain it so that it escapes from the sides, staining you even more with his cum. He loves it and giggles mischievously about it. He's really a very stamina boy and even though he came, he keeps pushing inside you.

anyway, those are all the videos. i genuinely only like videos of this style if they remind me of Leon lmao, but if that's the case i go crazy and many of the one shots i write are probably inspired by one of these.

LINK 5— i kept this one because it gave me a lot of Leon vibes from death island, he looks big and i always had the fantasy of doing it with that version of him in doggy style, especially because i see this version of Leon as gentle but at the end of the situation he gets carried away by the desire to want to take you at his pace so he fucks you harder. Another detail is that i love how similar the video's hand is with Leon, did you see that scene in death island where we can see it well? His hands are... fuck, you know, the amount of things those fingers could do, and the video reminded me of it all the time!!

LINK 6 — no matter the version, we all know that Leon is a needy and desperate boy. i loved the detail of him asking to stop in that way so as not to cum yet, Leon would have that consideration but it's obvious that you wouldn't, pushing him to the limit so that he can cum and your baby can release all the tension he has on him. you laugh at him for being so pathetic, but you kiss him and while he tries to recover, your hands don't stop touching his cock because, let's be honest, we all know that it is only yours and you control it how you want.

if i find more videos, i will do another part, of courseeeee, as long as it is well received uwu

thanks for your message anon, ily'all ♡♡♡♡

[sweeterthanficstion]

— twelve dates 'til christmas || l.s.k ⋆⁺₊❅.

christmas party / fake relationship / re2r leon! ❆ for @leonsecretsanta event! ❆ gift for @calbloodypigeon ! <3

tags: no outbreak au, rookie leon, journalist reader, gn reader but if i've accidentally missed something please let me know so i can fix it up! --- lots of stupid hallmark christmas cliches, heavily inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days.

summary: when the leads you're chasing for your feature article for the local paper have gone ice cold, and you've just about given up hope, the rpd's newest rookie shows up like a christmas miracle and proposes a deal that might just save you. or blow up in your face.

word count: 6.1k --- i know i went over the word count IM SO SORRY 😭

a/n: CAL! HI! i'm SO beyond sorry this is late, i fucked up the timings so bad and stupidly miscalculated how much time i had left to finalise this and then i got roped into my own christmas fiasco so i was RACING against the clock to try get this out asap. BUT i hope you like it regardless!! i saw re2r leon as your wild card and my eyes LIT UP!! this was such a pleasure to write, i absolutely love writing rookie leon! (also yes i know the twelve days of christmas technically come after christmas day but shhhh) anyway, hope you have a wonderful christmas!! lots of love, amber xx

masterlist⭑AO3

It starts with a faulty office printer and a burnt cup of coffee.

You stare pitifully at the cup of coffee in your hand—if you can even call it that anymore. Half empty and completely unsalvageable, the acrid smell lingers in the break room like some unwelcome ghost of Christmas caffeine. If only you hadn’t slept through your alarm this morning, you could’ve avoided the morning rush (since it seems that nobody in Raccoon City knows how to drive through snow), and made a good cup of coffee to accompany you for the day instead of having to fight the shitty office coffee machine instead.

With a half-hearted sigh you turn the mug over and dump its contents into the bin, watching forlornly as the liquid soaks through shredded paper and old protein bar wrappers instead.

“Bad morning?” One of your coworkers, Claire, quips from across the way. A perfectly fine cup of coffee sits on her desk in a mug that reads Journalists do It With Integrity! 

You shoot her a withering glare, but before you can deliver any sort of witty remark, the printer across the room coughs out a single sheet of crumpled paper, and promptly dies. 

“Bad week,” you mutter, running a hand down your face before stalking towards the offending machine. 

The office, already buzzing with the chaos of holiday deadlines, feels like it’s working entirely against you. The case you’ve been chasing—a string of thefts tied to the Raccoon City holiday markets—has gone ice cold. Your editor is breathing down your neck for a feature piece that you can’t write without new leads. You’ve got twelve days left, twelve days until your editor wants that final copy on her desk.

And now the printer has decided to stage a mutiny. Just your luck.

You try to print out the documents again, but when the printer does nothing but splutter, and kicking it doesn’t seem to work, you decide maybe it just needs new ink.

You’re about halfway through jamming your hand into its guts when a voice, sweet yet awkward, startles you. You hit your head on the way up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of warm blue eyes beneath a mop of golden hair. 

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a navy button-down, his badge clipped to his belt. He looks familiar, like someone you might’ve run into at the bullpen when you’re down at the RPD.

“Uh, need a hand?” he tilts his head, same awkward smile unfaltering.

“I’ve got it,” you say, though you clearly don’t. The printer lets out a final, pathetic whine before dying completely. Well, now you just look stupid.

He grins, the kind of lopsided, sheepish smile that makes him look younger than he probably is. “Guess that’s a no.”

You sigh, looking over your shoulder to catch Claire hiding a smile behind her mug. You fold your arms. “Sorry, can I help you?”

“Names Leon,” He introduces himself, and it all clicks into place for you. This is the RPD’s newest rookie. The guy Claire’s been yapping your ear off about Chris yapping her ear off about. “I’m just dropping off some paperwork. But, uh… I overheard you talking to your editor earlier. You’re working on the market thefts, right?”

Your eyes narrow. “And what’s it to you?”

Leon raises his hands in mock surrender at your scathing tone, the picture of good-natured defensiveness. “Nothing! Just thought you might want some… unofficial insight. Off the record, of course.”

Your skepticism doesn’t waver. “Why would a rookie like you have anything I can’t get from public records?”

Leon hesitates for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. “I’ve been helping out on the case. They’ve got me running reports, talking to market vendors, stuff like that. Not exactly glamorous work, but I’ve been hearing things that don’t make it into the official write-ups.”

Now you’re interested. RPD isn’t exactly known for transparency, you know that much. You also know better than most that a lot can slip through the cracks of “official” documentation.

“What’s the catch?” you ask, suspicious.

Leon shifts, “Well, uh… There’s this Christmas party at the precinct. And I might have mentioned to my coworkers that I was bringing a date.”

You blink. “You’re blackmailing me with case information to play your fake-datw at a cop Christmas party?”

“It’s not blackmail!” Leon protests, his ears turning red. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. You get your story, and I… avoid being the precinct punchline for another year.”

You’re still sceptical, but the desperation in his voice softens your resolve. Saying no to him right now would be like kicking a poor puppy.

You stare at him for a moment, weighing your options. It’s ridiculous, sure, but then again, so is everything else in your life right now.

“Fine,” you say finally, sticking out your hand. “Twelve days. You give me what I need, and I’ll be the best fake date you’ve ever had.”

Leon shakes your hand with a grin, relief written all over his face. “Deal.”

And just like that, the countdown begins.

On the second day of Christmas, Leon sends you flowers.

Big ones. Loud ones. The kind of bouquet you’d expect to see at a wedding reception or an apology press conference. They’re wrapped in glittering gold paper—Poinsettias, as Claire so graciously points out.

“Looks like someone’s got an admirer,” she singsongs, loud enough for half the floor to hear.

Your stomach drops. There, sitting right in the middle of your disaster zone of a desk, is the offending bouquet. It’s massive, covered in festive bells and ribbon, and the card sticking out of it reads:

“To my Christmas angel. – L.”

You mutter a silent prayer to whatever God might be listening, snatching the card up like it might explode before anyone else might see. Your coworkers are already murmuring around you, though, so that seems like a bit of a lost cause.

Claire leans back in her chair, still grinning. “So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating someone?”

“Firstly, that is none of your business,” you snap, grabbing the entire bouquet in a desperate attempt to get it out of sight. The glitter gets everywhere, including your coat, your desk, and, somehow, your coffee. “And secondly—” You start, but backtrack when you remember that the deal you struck with Leon may require some confidentiality. Damn you for not figuring out boundaries sooner. “—that is also none of your business.”

You turn on your heel and you don’t stop moving until you’re outside the building, your fingers already dialing a number you swore to yourself you wouldn’t use unless absolutely necessary.

Leon picks up on the third ring. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me,” you hiss, pacing in the cold December air. “What the hell were you thinking sending me flowers? To my office?”

Leon hesitates for a second, and you can almost hear him cringing through the phone. “Uh, I thought it’d make things more… believable?”

You stop in your tracks. “Believable?”

“Yeah! You know, if people saw that you’re, like, dating someone, it might help sell the whole… thing.” His voice trails off, and there’s a pause before he adds, quieter, “Was it too much?”

“Too much?” you echo, your own voice rising in disbelief. “It’s not even lunchtime and I’ve already been asked twice if I’m engaged. At least take me to dinner first!”

There’s a beat of silence on his end before he says, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

You stop in your tracks. “Do what?”

“Dinner,” Leon says, like it’s obvious. “Tomorrow. You said I should take you to dinner, so… I’ll take you to dinner.”

You blink, your annoyance faltering for a second, only to give way to mild confusion. “Are you asking me out, or are you making this part of the deal?”

“Can’t it be both?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the cold or the sheer absurdity of the situation that makes you smile, but you sigh and say, “Fine. Dinner. But you’re picking the place, and it better not be one of those sad 24-hour diners cops hang out in.”

Leon laughs, the sound warm enough to cut through the winter chill. “Deal.”

On the third day of Christmas, Leon takes you to dinner.

And yes, it is a sad diner.

It’s the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t updated its decor since the 70s, with faded garlands drooping from the light fixtures and a suspiciously sticky Rudolph figurine parked on the counter. Which is fine, in honesty. It’s perfect for this not-date, because that’s what this is. Not a date. Absolutely nothing about this screams romance.

Well, except maybe the crooked twig of mistletoe hanging over the entrance, but even that you’d pointedly avoided much to Leon’s amusement.

“So, remind me what I’m doing here,” you hum, pushing around your leftover pancakes on your plate. Leave it to Leon to convince you pancakes for dinner is an entirely acceptable meal choice.

“Well, we’re on a date,” Leon states matter-of-factly.

Across from you, he looks all too comfortable. You, on the other hand, feel like you’ve just agreed to help pull Santa’s sleigh blindfolded.

“Yeah, well, a date’s pushing it, rookie,” You all but scoff, setting your fork down before meeting his gaze properly. “Look, if we’re gonna do this, we probably need to set some ground rules.”

Leon raises a brow, lips curving into a half-smile, “You’re serious? This isn’t Fight Club.”

“Can’t believe you just broke the first rule of Fight Club,” you shoot back, matching his half-smile with your own self-satisfied one. “Okay, first off, who gets to know?”

“That this is fake? No one,” Leon says all too firmly, “I don’t need this blowing up in my face.”

“Likewise,” you hum. “Okay, next, how often are we gonna see each other outside of office hours? Are we really trying to sell this?”

“Well a coffee or two wouldn’t hurt,” Leon suggest. “And, uh… Physical stuff?” He asks, a generous blush dusting his cheeks.

You can’t hide your smile. “Afraid to hold my hand or something?”

“No! No— just… Don’t want to make this any more awkward than it has to be.”

“Alright, so no kissing unless absolutely necessary. And I’m talking someone-shoves-us-under-mistletoe-and-starts-chanting levels of necessary.”

He lets out a laugh, soft and boyish, and you can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth tug upwards.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas Leon takes you ice-skating. Well… Sort of.

You’d come to pick up some paperwork about the Christmas Market case Leon had promised you—an errand you figured would be quick and painless. No mingling, no unnecessary chit-chat, and absolutely no run-ins with anyone who might make this fake-dating charade any harder than it has to be.

The first hiccup comes the second you step into the precinct. You immediately spot him, leaning against the reception desk with an easy grin, chatting with some colleagues. You only recognise one of them, from the photo sitting on Claire’s desk no-less. Chris Redfield. The woman beside him, who’s donning a festive antler headband, looks oddly familiar as well, though you can’t quite place it.

Fantastic. Just what you needed.

“Leon!” you call, keeping your tone as casual as possible. You walk briskly, plastering on a tight-lipped smile, trying your best not to look like a deer caught in the headlights and to very pointedly avoid any eye-contact with Chris.

Leon turns at the sound of your voice, his expression brightening instantly. “Oh, hey! What’re you doing here?”

“Paperwork,” you reply, holding up the empty manila folder in your hand like it’s your golden ticket out of this situation. “You said you’d have it ready for me?”

Before Leon can answer, the woman next to Chris perks up—it’s then you recognise her as none other than Jill Valentine. You chalk it up to the antlers making it hard to recognise her.

“Paperwork? Wait, is this who you were talking about?” She elbows Leon in the ribs, earning a flustered yelp from him.

“What?” you echo, narrowing your eyes. Great, so he's already started mentioning you to colleagues.

Chris leans forward, “Wait, you’re Leon’s partner?”

You feel your stomach drop, the word partner ricocheting around your brain like a pinball. 

Leon is already mid-spiral, his cheeks flushed red as he stammers out a reply. “Well, I didn’t say that— I mean, I said some of that, but not like that!”

Jill crosses her arms, smirking. “Well, now we have to meet you! What are you two doing tonight?”

“Nothing!” you and Leon blurt at the same time, a little too loudly.

Chris raises an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Jill before grinning even wider. “Perfect. You guys should come ice skating with us tonight, most of the Precinct will be there.”

Your mouth opens, ready to reject the idea outright, but Leon beats you to it.

“That sounds great!” he says, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If you could hit him over the head with this manilla folder right now, you would.

“Great,” Jill says, clapping her hands together. “Meet us at the rink at around seven tonight.”

“What the hell was that?” you hiss once both Chris and Jill have had enough teasing and they’re out of earshot.

“I panicked!” Leon whispers back, looking genuinely apologetic.

“You just signed us up for the least romantic fake date activity imaginable.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You owe me so much for this, rookie.”

“I’ll buy you hot chocolate?” Leon tries, sweet boyish smile and all. You hate how you feel your resolve begin to soften already.

 “You better make it with extra marshmallows.”

He nods, his expression softening as his smile melts into something tentative yet determined. “Deal.”

You’ve decided you don’t like ice skating. Chalk that up to the fact you haven’t been to the rink since you were eight and using a push-along penguin to keep you upright.

“This is fine,” you mutter under your breath, wobbling precariously as you step onto the ice. “Totally fine. Nothing humiliating about face-planting on ice.”

“You’ve got this!” Leon cheers from a few feet away, his enthusiasm wildly misplaced considering he’s not doing much better. He looks like a newborn deer, legs flailing every time he tries to take a step.

“Don’t patronize me,” you hiss back, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

Behind you, Jill glides past with all the effortless grace of an Olympic figure skater, followed closely by Chris—who despite a few wobbles—isn’t much worse. They’re laughing at something—probably you and Leon—but you’re too busy trying to avoid an embarrassing collision with the ice to care.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Leon says, inching toward you with the kind of determination usually reserved for hostage negotiations. “You let go of the rail, and I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He looks just about as stupid as he sounds, you decide. “That’s assuming you don’t fall first.”

He grins, cheeks ruddy from the cold. “Have a little faith, would you?”

Against your better judgment, you release your grip on the rail, immediately flailing as your skates slide out from under you.

Leon lunges to catch you—a valiant effort, truly—which would be heroic if it didn’t result in both of you landing in a tangled heap on the ice.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” Leon groans, pushing himself to his knees and wincing.

“You think?” you say, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh as you roll onto your side. Your knees are sore, your pride is bruised, but when you look over at Leon—cheeks flushed, smile sheepish— it all feels a little less mortifying.

“Here,” he says, extending a hand to help you up, and there’s something strangely endearing about the gesture. You hesitate for a moment before taking it, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t let go right away, steadying you as you find your balance.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” you reply, surprised to find that you actually mean it.

And somewhere between all of this chaos a group of kids barrels past, laughing as they race each other in a blur of neon jackets and mis-matched scarves. You and Leon instinctively jump out of their way, your skates sliding in all the wrong directions. You nearly crash into him again, grabbing his arm for balance as he steadies both of you.

And suddenly, you’re close. Closer than you’ve been all night.

His face is just inches from yours, his breath visible in soft clouds in the frigid air. His cheeks are bitten by the cold, his boyish grin tugging at his lips, and his eyes—God, his eyes—are the kind of blue that could rival a frosted winter’s lake.

You swallow hard, heart giving a little flutter you’d rather not think about. Brushing it off with a laugh, you take a step back, releasing his arm. “Okay, new rule: avoid the speed demons at all costs.”

“Agreed,” Leon says, but his voice a little softer now, his gaze a little firmer.

The rest of the night is chaos, as expected, and by the time you stumble off the ice, breathless and pink-cheeked, you’re smiling so wide and genuine that your cheeks hurt from it all.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Leon comes over for a very professional movie night. 

The plan was simple enough: a low-key night to sort through leads and discuss the finer details of the article. Nothing more than that. Just two friends (are you even really friends?) mocking bad Hallmark movie tropes and terrible one-liners. But—as fate would have it—somewhere between the half-hearted scribbles in your notebook and the opening credits of the first movie, the evening takes a sharp left turn.

Popcorn crumbs litter the coffee table, and the air hums with laughter as you and Leon pick apart every ridiculous trope on the screen.

“New rule,” you declare, pointing at the screen with a handful of popcorn. “No more movies where the leads magically fall in love because of forced proximity. It's lazy writing.”

Leon raises a brow, smiling at you over his mug of cocoa. “Do you just... make up rules for everything?”

You shoot him a look, though your lips twitch in betrayal. “Rules are important. They keep things from going off the rails.”

“Sure they do,” he says, grinning. “But I think you might have a thing for them. Maybe it’s your love language”

You toss a kernel of popcorn at him, which he catches with an annoyingly quick reflex. The movie continues, but your attention drifts, his sweet smile lingering in your thoughts longer than you’d care to admit, and all at once you want to suffocate yourself with a pillow.

By the time the credits have rolled, the conversation has veered wildly away from work and movies. You find yourself talking about everything and nothing between here and there, the space separating you both narrowing in a way that feels very not-professional. Your leg brushes against his and his hand brushes against yours.

You didn’t make a new rule about that. Maybe you should have.

On the eighth day of Christmas, you finally chase down some of those leads for your article. 

Or at least, you try to.

The holiday market is bustling with lights, laughter, and the scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts. It’s picturesque enough to be a postcard: striped tents draped in garlands, vendors bundled in scarves, and the faint hum of Christmas carols floating through the crisp evening air.

You’re here for work. This is professional business. Totally, totally.

“Professional” is exactly why you’re letting Leon lead you to a vendor handing out roasted chestnuts in steaming paper cones.

You raise a brow at him. “Seriously?”

“You’ve gotta try them. It’s tradition.” He says as if it’d be crazy to deny him.

And before you can even think about protesting, he’s already handing you a cone, the warmth seeping through your gloves as you eye the chestnuts—then him—warily. You pop a few in your mouth, only to find yourself pleasantly surprised.

“Good, right?” he asks, smug as anything. You scrunch your nose in response.

Next is funnel cake. Leon orders one to share, dusting himself in powdered sugar as he pulls off a piece and offers it to you.

“I could’ve got my own,” you reason, but take what he offers you anyway.

“Well that wouldn’t make me a very good date.”

“Fake-date,” you correct.

“Uhuh,” Leon hums, but he’s not even looking at you when you glance back up at him, already dragging you towards the next stall, and the next. 

“I’m serious!” You call after him, trying to keep up as he weaves through the crowd like he’s trained to do this. Well, he probably is.

You don’t even realise how long it’s been until you're walking past empty market stalls, every other vendor packing up for the night. Leon leads you out into the street, strings of warm white lights swaying gently in the winter breeze.

Leon’s hands are stuffed into his coat pockets as the two of you walk side by side, your boots crunching softly against the thin dusting of snow on the pavement.

The streets are mostly empty now, save for a few stragglers heading home, but Leon leads you straight into the middle of the road without a second thought. You hesitate for half a second, glancing both ways like a habit.

“There’s no one out here,” he says over his shoulder, that lazy grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not scared of breaking the rules, are you?”

“Isn’t it your job to enforce rules?” You argue, but follow after him anyway.

When you tilt your head up, you feel the breath escape your lungs all at once. “You can actually see the stars tonight,” you murmur softly in awe, your breath clouding in the cold.

Leon doesn’t say anything right away, but when you glance over, you catch him watching you instead of the sky, his gaze softer than you’re used to. He quickly looks up, clearing his throat as if he hadn’t just been caught.

You don’t know what’s worse: the way his cheeks flush from something other than the cold or the fact that your stomach flutters in response.

And you don’t know what to do with the quiet that stretches between you, either, the sound of your steps filling it up like placeholders. You hadn’t meant for the day to linger this long—hadn’t meant to still be here, walking home with him.

Leon breaks the silence first. “You know, I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I am.”

He laughs then, genuine and bright. “Oh thank God, I’d hate for this to actually be enjoyable for either of us.” Sarcasm laces his words in a way that makes you laugh in kind.

He’s grinning like he’s got all the time in the world as he turns to walk backward in front of you, and suddenly all at once this feels like something out of one of those Hallmark Christmas movies you swore to yourself you’d never recreate. 

“You still haven’t thanked me for helping you today.” He says.

“Helping me?” you snort. “All you did was get funnel cake powder on my coat and in my cocoa.”

“Hey,  I got you a quote from the candy vendor, didn’t I?” he defends, arms spreading wide.

“You mean the guy who told us about his grandma’s cookie recipe?”

“Hard-hitting stuff,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, but you’re smiling, and you hate that he notices. He spins back around to face the road ahead, walking a little slower now, like he’s dragging his feet.

“So,” you say after a moment, picking up your pace to fall back into step with him. “Why do you care so much about this Christmas party, anyway?”

Leon doesn’t answer right away. You glance over, and the grin that’s usually on his face has faded into something smaller, quieter.

“Guess I just… don’t want to look like a total loser,” he says eventually, his voice low but even. “It’s been a long first year. People talk.”

You frown at that. “They don’t have anything better to do at the RPD?”

“Apparently not.” He shrugs like it doesn’t bother him, but you can tell it does, at least a little.

The two of you walk in silence for another block, and when you speak again, your tone is softer. “You know, you could’ve asked someone who actually likes you to be your date.”

Leon glances over, and for some reason, his answer catches you off guard. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “but then it wouldn’t have been you.”

You look away too quickly, your chest tightening in a way you can’t explain. He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t push him for more.

Instead, you both keep walking, the street stretching out ahead of you, the night colder and clearer than it’s been in weeks. The faint glow of your building comes into view up ahead, and for a moment, you wish it was just a little farther away.

On the tenth day of Christmas, Leon does something so absurd you briefly consider chucking him—and his ridiculous ideas—into a snowbank.

Leon shows up at your door, determined and annoyingly cheerful, with a Christmas tree strapped to the roof of his car and a twinkle in his eye that should’ve been your first warning. You don’t have the heart to turn him away or give him a lecture about how this is breaking at least three of your fake-dating rules.

Dragging the tree up the stairs is a disaster, his optimism only barely keeping the whole endeavor from collapsing. Decorating it? Worse. Leon’s enthusiasm for tinsel is unmatched, his ornament selection downright offensive. A plastic Rudolph here, a lopsided snowman there—it’s a full-scale disaster in red, green, and glitter.

By the end of the night, the tree looks more like a festive crime scene, fairy lights as police-tape and all, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The two of you collapse as you both watch the twinkling lights. A ribbon is tangled in your hair; Leon has tinsel stuck to his sleeve. The quiet settles in like freshly fallen snow, and for a moment, you forget this isn’t supposed to feel real.

You spent the eleventh night at Leon’s place. It was his idea to go over the finalities of this agreement, set your story straight in case anybody at the party asks too many questions. Make sure you're both on the same page.

But when you rocked up at his little studio apartment, it felt like he’d compensated for much more than a quick flashcard night.

Cinnamon scented candles burned and flicker, accompanied by a plate of cookies on the counter. Your half-crumpled notes quickly joined, as well as two cups of cocoa that have long-since gone cold.

“Alright, one more time, how’d we meet?”

Leon props his head up on his palm, looking like he’s had more than enough of your pointless flashcard game. “Coffee shop. You spilled hot chocolate on me, laughed, then walked away.”

“I offered to buy you a replacement!” You shoot back, hitting him atop the head with your stack of cards.

He winces dramatically, swatting our hand away. “Well I think it’s more believable if I pretend you didn’t and you bicker back. Y’know, like an old married couple or something.”

You reach for your cold cocoa to hide the way you splutter. “Woah, rookie, I only signed up for a fake-date, not a fake-wedding too.”

Leon grins, but something about him still looks oddly distant.

He kicks his feet off the barstool, takes your cup of cocoa and his to clean them away. “Have you finished your article at least?”

“Nearly,” You hum, but you’re more lying through your teeth. You’ve barely worked on it despite all the extra input Leon’s given you. Something, something, a very distracting Christmas fiasco got in your way. “I should be done by the end of the week.”

“And what happens once it’s done?” He asks, and you know in your right mind he means what happens to you. Promotion? New story? Next assignment? But instead your mind stupidly jumps to the idea that he’s asking about the both of you. What happens to us? written between the lines in invisible ink.

“Well, I suppose I find a new story to chase.” You clear your throat, “and you?”

“Go back to handing out speeding tickets,” Leon smiles through a sigh, “and I guess we drop this whole fake-dating thing, huh?” He asks, and you refuse to let yourself believe there’s any hope in his voice.

“Don’t see a reason to keep it going,” you shrug, to which Leon simply nods.

“Anyway, don’t try changing the subject on me,” you clear your throat, shuffling back through your pile of cards. “Next question: what’s my favourite holiday tradition?”

Leon shelves the now clean and dried mugs, “stealing Christmas cookies when no one’s looking.” He hums smugly over his shoulder.

You blink, “I never told you that.”

“Don’t need to, I pay attention.” He grins, pointedly flicking his gaze to the now empty plate of cookies. But you’re still hung on his words, the casual admission throws you entirely off kilter, and it seems by the twelfth day he still has you feeling that way.

You feel entirely out of place standing in the RPD. The precinct is sparkling with every Hallmark Christmas cliche imaginable—oversized tinsel, plastic mistletoe (that you’re still doing your best to avoid), and a garishly large tree that stands off to the side, completed by a shining white angel on top. 

Leon, of course, has dressed the part. And damn him for looking so good in a navy suit and deep red tie to match your own attire. His presence is steady when you feel out of depth—it’s funny how he does that, despite usually being the one who requires an anchor.

“Are you alright?” He asks, leaning closer to be heard over the obnoxiously loud Christmas music. His voice is low, warm, entirely too distracting. 

“Fine,” you lie with a sickly sweet smile, downing the last of your punch, “totally fine.”

Leon doesn’t buy it, and you’re starting to think he’s getting too good at reading you (which is your job, not his), but before he can press any further, your worst nightmare seems to come to fruition.

You're pulled then pushed, and before you can register what’s even happened you're colliding with Leon’s chest.

“Mistletoe,” he mutters, and when you finally lift your gaze you catch the offending sprig. Jesus Christ.

Honestly, this is your fault. You should’ve accounted for something like this. Nothing like a good bit of rookie hazing at a work party, right? Dammit. The rest of the precinct seems to cheer and chant, and you’d foolishly thought you’d left this behaviour behind in high school. 

God, you wish the ground would part beneath your feet and swallow you whole right now—

“Well, this doesn’t break any of your rules, does it?” Leon asks then, and you can hear the smile in his voice, something about the way he says it makes it sound like he knows the answer.

And he does. Because if Leon’s good at one thing it’s remembering the finer details. No kissing unless absolutely necessary, you’d said. Like someone-shoves-us-under-mistletoe-and-starts-chanting levels of necessary, you’d said.

Okay, now you really want the ground to swallow you up.

Leon seems to pick up on your unease, and ever the gentleman drowns out the obnoxious chanting of his colleagues to focus on you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he offers.

You shake your head. “It’s part of the deal.” You say firmly. You’re not going to back down now, you’re a stickler for rules, deals, and contracts. Totally not because you’ve been wondering what Leon’s lips might taste like for the past five minutes. Totally.

He counts you down, which feels stupid, but does actually help quell your nerves. What doesn’t help, though, is the way his hand slides to your jaw and his lips slot against yours so effortlessly. You forget the world exists, heart beating out of your chest before you let yourself melt into it, your own arms looping around his neck just before he pulls away.

He’s got blush on his cheeks, his eyes bright, smiling widely like he’s just one the powerball. And suddenly, all at once, your brain catches up to your heart and you realise how none of this seems to feel fake anymore.

Three days later, and your article had gone live that morning. Your editor had been quick to praise it, Claire more than proud when she’d shown up with a mini Christmas gift basket for you. But still, as the day wore on, the victory felt hollow. The article might have just been your best work, but now that the dust—or snow, rather—has settled, all you can think about is Leon and the strange ache left in his absence.

You glance out the window of your tiny office, the skyline glittering with holiday lights. It’s quiet, save for the distant hum of the city and the rhythmic tapping of your pen against your desk.

“You know, I expected a little more Christmas cheer from the person who just saved Christmas,” a familiar voice says.

You jump, spinning around in your squeaky office chair to find Leon leaning casually in your doorway. He’s dressed down from the last time you saw him after the party, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder, but the sight of him is enough to send your heart racing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he shrugs, pushing himself off the cubicle wall and stepping inside.

You raise a brow. “The precinct is five blocks away.”

“Exactly,” he says with a grin. “Neighborhood.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. He steps closer still, and you feel the air shift.

“Look,” he starrs, running a hand through his hair like he’s still trying to work up the courage. “The other night, you said that after this was over, we wouldn’t have to see each other again.”

You swallow hard, your heart already knowing where this is going but your mind refusing to believe it. You remember how casually you’d thrown that out there, as if the thought hadn’t stung more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Well, I don’t want that,” he says simply.

Your breath hitches, but he keeps on going.

“I don’t want to go back to pretending this was all fake,” he continues, his voice steady but his eyes searching yours. “Because it might’ve started that way, but it didn’t end that way—not for me.”

The words hang in the air like softly drifting snowflakes, fragile and perfect, waiting for you to catch them.

“Leon…” you try, but your voice falters.

“I know,” he cuts in quickly. “I know this wasn’t the plan. But plans change, right? Rules get broken—and I know you hate that but hear me out—if there’s one thing I’ve learned these past twelve days, it’s that maybe breaking a rule or two isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

You laugh softly then despite yourself, a mix of nerves and something lighter. “You do realize you’re ruining my perfectly crafted narrative, right? Fake dating, falling in love…” you click your tongue, “this is all so cliché.”

He grins, stepping closer until there is almost no space left between you. “Then let’s give it a good ending.”

Before you can even give what he’s said a minute of thought, his hand is on your jaw again, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s unhurried and undeniably real.

When he finally pulls back, he stays close, his forehead resting against yours. “So,” he hums, his voice soft and teasing, “how’s that for a rewrite?”

You can’t help but laugh, your chest light for the first time in days. “It’s a start.”

The city sparkles outside as you stand there, snowflakes fall, the faint hum of Christmas carols from the office speakers bleed with the quiet rhythm of his breathing. Whatever comes next, you know one thing is for sure: this story isn’t over yet.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[stoopidpigeonxx]

I love your mouthwashing hcs! Could you do how loud they are in bed?

OOOH! good question, anonnie !! :3

The least loud would probably be Swansea. He thinks it's overrated to be all moany-groany during the act, because he feels like it's distracting. Of course, he can't help it from time to time when he lets a soft groan or sigh slip, but it's nothing much. He's not against you being loud though. :-) Jimmy comes next. He's a little louder then Swansea, and LOOOOVES hearing you moan. You begging him for more? Adores it. Asking to go faster/harder? As you please. Moaning his name? Good God he's broke. Can get off to the sound of your moans only (and secretly records you moaning sometimes because he's... Jimmy.) Third is Curly! He's not super loud, but he IS a whiner. Those soft, pathetic mewly whines. Like, instant he slides in he's whining like a dog. My wife is a certified whimper boy. Like, you know the sound Leon Kennedy makes when he's hurt in DBD? Those. Second loudest, believe it or not, is Anya. She's pretty vocal in the sense that the poor girl just can't help it. She has really pretty sounding moans though, so it's worth it! She worries that she's being too loud sometimes, so she'll grab a pillow (or nearby soft object) and bury her face in it. It's so fucking cute. Our victor is my boy Daisuke. He is the loudest fucking man in the entire world. Moans, whines, grunts, all of it. It's super difficult to have sex on the down low with him because he's just too damn loud. So he offers for you to sit on his face to shut him up!! And it usually works, so now the only way you can get him to be quieter is if he has his face buried in your cunt.

[cweampier]

i have nasty thoughts about leon’s arms. like sex from behind, holding your back against his hard chest, his big hand is around your throat and the other is around your waist and all you can do is grab at it pathetically bc he’s hitting it so good.

i’m sorry i had to share it w someone bc it’s driving me insane

EATS YOUR BRAIN WHOLE.. like a zombie. cause you’re so right? especially in the remake i’ve been squelching at the sight of them. re4 leon, he’s a bit of a meanie pants here.. he loves you i prommy </3

cw for dubcon (?) per request

leon listened intently as you whined about how you couldn’t take it, of course you couldn’t, you could never take shit you fucking ask for. he gritted his teeth, adjusting the grip he had on your throat as he kept slamming into you relentlessly. you couldn’t do anything, you were practically melded into him, ass pressed against his pelvis so perfectly as he looked down to enjoy the view of the way it recoiled with each threatening, almost possessive thrust. you couldn’t control the way your hips convulsed in his hold, the way your mouth remained agape as your nails dug crescent shaped imprints into his toned forearm that was wrapped securely around your waist.

he wasn’t gonna let you run, fuck no he wasn’t. “you sit there n’ fuckin’ take me like you were begging to do so. don’t get cold feet on me now, hon.” he tuts, mischief laced in his tone as the tip of his cock kissed up against your cervix deliciously, causing you to cry out in mind-numbing ecstasy. you babbled incoherently and he scoffed at your attempts to vocalize how you felt. he knew he was doing a good job, he just knew it. the only thing he could make out was his name in mantra. his breaths became more ragged as a shit-eating-grin stretched across his face.

he felt your cunt squeeze around the base of his dick for dear life, almost for mercy as he continued to abuse it. it was his pussy anyway. he fucking owned it and you knew he did, like a good girl. “gonna cum on my cock, baby? yeah, i fucking want you to.. fuuuck yes,” he cursed under his breath as he released his hold on you, shoving you on all fours before pressing a firm hard down on your lower back, arching your ass towards him.

you gripped at the sheets pathetically, eyes rolling back in searing pleasure as your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. you heaved as leon tightened his grip on your hips, somehow delving deeper inside your aching pussy as it noisily responded to his efficacy. “hoh’fuck, leon.. fucking—feels s’good..” you stammered, grinding your hips against his own to give him leverage to meet you halfway. he tossed his head back in tandem, filling the room with those pretty whines of satisfaction.

“‘m gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, sweetheart..” he rasped, leaning over to capture your lips into a sloppy kiss, coating his lips with your drool as they glistened in the weak lighting of the room. “pussy feels so good.. ‘t’s all mine too..” ૮꒰ ⸝⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ა

[dollfacefantasy]

Would you ever write a prequel to Sharing is Caring? Like when Leon says to Chris, “Trust me, she’ll be into it. I can’t even tell you how wet she gets just from talking about shit like this,” or when he’s just talking to reader about how wet she gets when thinking about someone else watching her with Leon, would you ever write a small drabble or something based on that scenario that obviously took place before the threesome with Chris? I hope you understand what I mean! 😭

yeah bb i got you <3

leon kennedy x fem!reader

prequel to this fic

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, guided masturbation, daddy kink, mentions of spanking, exhibitionism, threesome w/ chris, p in v, blowjobs, and cum

so when i wrote that part, i was thinking it happened on multiple occasions between reader and leon. this is how i believe one of those times would go *dream harp music and dissolve transition*

Today had been a lazy day for you and Leon since the two of you woke up that morning. The bedroom was dim from the overcast sky outside, and music played softly in the background as you and your boyfriend cuddled in bed and talked about nothing. It was your personal heaven on earth. The prettiest slice of paradise you could imagine.

You laughed at his corny jokes while he entertained random questions you’d asked him. Eventually the conversation reached a lull, and in the brief pause, you remembered something you’d been meaning to ask him.

“We’re still going to that work dinner for you on Friday, right?” you ask, glancing over at him.

“Mhm,” he responds, “Why?”

“Gotta get my nails done,” you answer.

He can’t help smiling at that. The effort you put in for him was adorable.

“Yeah? What color you gonna do this time?” he asks.

“Red.”

“Why red?” he says, reaching over to stroke your cheek.

“Cause aren’t guys supposed to like red the most?” you say as if it’s the most obvious fact in the world.

“You know I like what you like, baby,” he chuckles and leans in to kiss your neck.

“Yeah, but it’s a dinner full of guys. I gotta impress them for you. Can’t have your work people thinking your girlfriend is less than the best,” you say.

He exhales sharply at your attitude, finding it funny. 

“So you’re painting your nails for other men?” he teases, “Be careful or I might get jealous.”

A smile rises to your lips, and you squirm a little from the way he’s kissing your neck. In truth, Leon loved showing you off. It drove him up the wall when guys’ stares would linger on your cleavage or cast down to your backside. They could look all they wanted, but you were all his. And you knew he felt that way, which is why it drove you a special type of crazy when he’d play with you like this.

“No, I'm painting them for you. So your work guys will be impressed and jealous of you,” you say.

“Ahh, I see,” he says, feigning realization, “You want them all to see that you’re such a good girl, right?”

His voice drops and it hits you straight between your legs. You fidget a little, masking your desire with a laugh. Nodding playfully, you act as if it’s a joke rather than your honest motivation.

“That’s why I gotta wear a pretty dress too,” you tease back.

“I see. It better not show off too much though, else I might have to take you over my knee right then and there. They rent out a private dining room, y’know. I could do it. Show them all how I keep my good girl in line,” he whispers.

He nips at your throat, and now you’re officially turned on. The heat in your cheeks and neck migrate south to fester between your hips. Your thighs rub against one another in a pathetic attempt to sate yourself for the time being. He notices of course, and that only means he’s not stopping any time soon.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he breathes, “You’d like getting to whine and pout while everyone watches you get put in your place, hm?”

Tingles spread throughout your chest through your tummy. His hand slips beneath your shirt and rubs up and down your side. The painfully slow pace of his palm brings chills over you.

“Answer me,” he whispers.

“Yeah, I’d like it,” you say. Your voice was short and quiet as it often was in moments like these.

He chuckles and moves his hand up to your breast. Your nipples had stiffened into little peaks against the cloth of your top. He pinches one as he licks a stripe up your neck.

Shuddering, you whine for him, “Leon.”

“If you said that in front of them, that’d earn you a couple more smacks. What are you supposed to call me?” he prompts.

“Daddy…” you correct yourself with a whimper.

“That’s my girl,” he croons.

His hand continues to fondle your breast for a few moments more before his hand leaves your chest and grabs your jaw. He tilts your head in his direction, so you have to look in his eyes.

“That’s what you’d cry out in front of all of daddy’s friends. That’d really show ‘em you’re a good girl. It’d show ‘em more than any dress or color on your nails,” he says before connecting his lips with yours.

He kisses you deeply, slipping some tongue into your mouth and holding the back of your head to keep you close. His movements lead yours, luring you further into the lustful exchange with him. When he pulls back, you’re breathless with puffy, wet lips. His eyes have clouded with the desire to toy with you.

Now his hand slides down to your panties. The pretty garment had already started to dampen and cling to your cunt. He pets you over the barrier, teasing you with the anticipation of what’s to come.

“You’d be perfect, spread across my lap, ass out in these cute little things. Which pair would you wear?” he teases, nuzzling you as his fingers start to increase the pressure.

“The ones you bought me for my birthday,” you answer.

“Good choice,” he grins, “You’d look so precious in those, even more with your skirt bunched up over the top of them.”

You squirm a bit, wanting more from him, but he keeps up the same light caresses to your center.

“I know you’d love it, babydoll. I can just see it,” he whispers, “You’d love being the center of attention, having all those eyes on you. You know they’d all talk about you too. They’d talk like you weren’t even there. They’d talk about how pretty and cute you are, how sweet you look while taking your spanking, how much they want a girl like you all to themselves.”

All you can respond with is a soft whine. Your heels slide against the mattress as you fight to maintain some sliver of composure. And he continues running his mouth.

“They’d all get so hard for you, princess. Especially Chris. He’s gonna be there on Friday. He’s got a little crush on you,” he teases.

That snaps you out of your lustful daze. You’d met Chris a few times before this. He was nice enough. The two of you didn’t really have anything in common except Leon.

“He does not,” you say softly, rolling your eyes.

His eyebrows raise with amusement. “Does too,” he insists.

“He does not. You just want someone to tease me with,” you say before his mouth is back on yours, silencing your words with a kiss.

“Trust me, baby. He does. Bet he strokes it to you every night,” he murmurs against your lips.

You don’t want to admit the spark of heat that strikes in your belly at the thought of that. You’d be lying if you told Leon you didn’t find Chris attractive. He fits right in with your type. He was older, big and muscular, and condescendingly affectionate. All you can muster in response is a muffled “no he doesn’t.”

“Mhm, I can tell by the way he looks about you. And he’s always asking about you too. He’s got a thing for you, sweetheart. Wishes he could be your daddy instead of me,” he says. His voice comes out husky from the close proximity to you.

A little moan slips from your lips just as his hand slides into your panties to play with your clit. The pad of his middle finger finds it with ease. With the amount of times he’s made you cum, he’s sure he could find it while he’s sleeping. He presses down on the swollen bud and swirls his digit lightly.

“I know he’d love to see you get spanked like a little brat. But his favorite part would be the ending. The part where all those smacks have knocked some sense into you and you’re back to being a good girl. I think he’d jizz his pants if he saw your puppy eyes while you begged me to stop,” he whispers.

More arousal drips from you as you picture the scene your boyfriend is setting. You still weren’t fully convinced Chris was into you, but fuck, it was hot to imagine he was. Your mind conjures visions of his eyes locked on you. In your fantasy, he’s flushed, lip between his teeth as he wishes he could have a turn. He palms himself over his pants lazily, not putting in enough effort to distract him from the sight before his eyes. Your voice would be begging for Leon to stop, but your eyes would be begging for him.

Leon can see how into the idea you are so he continues. Simultaneously, his finger down below increases its pace on your bundle of nerves.

“You like thinking about that?” he coos mockingly, “But that’d be kind of cruel, wouldn’t it? Dangling you in front of him like that. Maybe I’d have to give the poor guy a break, let Chris come along with us after all the others had gone their own way. Let him see just how good you are for your daddy in private.”

Your eyes are starting to gloss with desire as he draws you further into this dream.

“Would you like that, honey? Letting Chris see this beautiful body, letting him see how well you can behave when you want to. If you were really really good, maybe I’d even let him play with you too,” he purrs.

Internally, your heart jolts. You had never brought up your interest in threesomes to Leon. He knew you had a bit of an affinity for being watched, but the potential conversation about being shared scared you. It was something that turned you on like damn near nothing else, but in reality, you weren’t certain of it. Plus, if he wasn’t into it, it’d be something you could never come back from.

The relief you felt from him bringing it up on his own was immeasurable.

You nod to answer his question.

“Use your words, babydoll,” he says.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he praises. 

His hand slides down to cup your pussy before he pushes two fingers into your cunt. You whine at the intrusion, but your hole was used to the sensation. He had your breath hitching and your eyes fluttering within a couple of pumps.

“You could sit in my lap while he fucked you. I’d hold you the whole time like the sweet thing you are while he stretched you out,” he says, “Or we could take turns with you, one after the other, fucking you till you were seeing stars.”

You nod again and arch your back slightly. “Please daddy. Want that,” you whimper.

“I know you do, sweet girl. I wouldn’t want you getting overwhelmed though. Your mind has less stamina than that pretty pussy does,” he teases.

Your lip juts out into a pout at his taunt, but it’s quickly wiped away by a mewl that erupts from you when he curls his fingers inside you.

“I think it might be better to let Chris fuck you and get you all warmed up for me. Then I could take over, and you could suck him off. I’d make that cute cunt cry on my cock for a while, and you could get a taste of him. I know you love having something in your mouth.”

“Yeah daddy,” you whine. 

He rubs his palm against your clit as his fingers fly back and forth, working you closer towards the edge. In the same rhythm he was grinding his bulge on your hip. He was rock hard beneath his boxers. The hypothetical situation was clearly getting to him just as much as it was getting to you.

“I’d be the one fucking your pussy full of cum just like you needed. And if you’d shown Chris what a perfect angel you are, I’d let you choose if he came in your mouth or all over your gorgeous face,” he says.

His eyes close as he rolls his hips with a little more force. He throbs in his boxers. Your head tilts back, allowing him to kiss your neck a few times before speaking again.

“I know you’d probably pick swallow, but I think all of us would love to see your face painted with his cum. Maybe let him pretend for a second that you belong to him,” he grunts.

“I’d pick on my face cause I know you’d wanna see it,” you whimper. And it was true. The most pleasurable thing in the world was Leon’s approval. It brought you more satisfaction than any orgasm or cum shot ever could.

“Such a good girl,” he moans, “That’s my baby. Another guy’s cum on your face, but all you can think to do is please your daddy.”

Both of you hit your highs almost in time with each other. You’re a little quicker than Leon which is fortunate since he loses precision when he cums. You feel like you burn into a blaze of euphoria when it hits, your body rapidly heating up. It’s like you’re light as a feather and floating through a blissful abyss of comfort. He cums in a more intense burst. His hips buck against the plush flesh of your hip. He locks his free hand on you to keep you close so he can thrust against your warmth till he’s empty.

The two of you lay there for a few moments after, taking a second to calm down. You feel like you could fall asleep at any second. You barely register Leon stumbling out of bed to clean himself up and change. He hits the fan on the way back to bed,which you’re grateful for.

As soon as he’s back in bed, you roll over and drape your limbs across him. He nuzzles the side of your head with a few kisses.

“You need a nap now, baby?” he asks softly.

“Mhm,” you mumble back.

“Close your eyes for me then, pretty girl. Get some rest,” he says before smirking and whispering in your ear, “Just promise me you’re not gonna dream about Chris now.”

You whine and lightly jab your knee against his ribs.

“Shut up, Leon.”

[frogchiro]

have u seen the photos of leon wearing a sleeveless hoodie? cos when i saw them i instantly thought of ur fratboy au like he just exudes douchey fratboy vibes (i’m in love with him and ur writing😭)

YES OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO RIGHT and I'm very sorry for the late reply :((

But yes, this is peak douchey fratboy Leon!! He is definitely the guy who will wear them and flex his muscles bc he knows it makes girls wet and swoon over him; he may be cringe and pathetic in private but in public he is still very much the overconfident, loud, douchebag fratboy from your nightmares </3

He is the type of guy who goes to the gym 40% to work out and 60% to take 'hot' pics and thirst traps for his instagram; will definitely send you a shirtless pic, his muscles flexed, his happy trail on show with a 'you like what you see baby?' and will deflate like a balloon when your only reply is :/ yes he is cringe like that.

And before anyone asks yes, if by some miracle you will agree to be his gf he will still wear that sleeveless hoodie around you to show off and then end up squealing and whimpering like a little bitch when you're riding him and milking his cock, will definitely cum himself stupid in less than a minute ://

[angelcakegirl]

ʚ she's not me ! ɞ

re2!leon kennedy x fem!reader

wc; 1.3k

cw; smut (mdni!), p in v, unprotected, no use of y/n, mentions of cheating, bestie!leon!!!

note; hiii!!! this is my first tumblr post so im kinda new to this hehee, so sorry if my english isnt the greatest but hope u enjoyy<3 (ps, let me know if i missed any cw!!)

the night was all too relaxing. just the typing at your keyboard and sipping at your coffee, while raindrops painted the glass windows. accompanied by that sweet tapping sound, this was the life.

what you weren't expecting was a wild leon knocking at your window, hair all soaked and dark from the rain. "leon, what the fuck?" you ran over to the window and opened it up. he's lucky you live on the first floor of your apartment.

once you're actually close to him is when you realize he's in tears. "she cheated on me!" he exclaimed, followed by a few sad cries.

honestly, you warned him this would happen. everyone did! his ex girlfriend was a whore, to put it nicely. yet you decided to hold back all your i told you so's, and let him in kindly.

so here he was. on your couch, with your towel slung around his shoulders, and even finishing your coffee. unsolicited. seriously, who does that?

but he's your best friend. he's sweetheart, really. you love him... as a friend. so of course you'll console him.

"she didn't deserve you, lee. you're too good for her." in all honesty, you wanted to just say that she's notorious for cheating on all her men, but that's not what he needed to hear right now.

he stopped his crying a while ago, yet you could still hear the strain in his voice. like he was ready to get the waterworks running any second now. "i just don't understand– you say i'm a good guy yet she still cheated. am i not worthy of love or something?"

oh, now you wanted this bitch dead. cheat on leon? that's one thing but he'll get over it. however, she had to ruin his self worth too? now you've got a problem.

you gently placed your hand on top his which was resting on his knee. looking into those sweet blue eyes, as the damp tips of his hair kissed his eyelashes. "you're worthy, leon. i think you're worthy of love."

leon was ashamed to admit it, but your hand on his, paired with your sweet words and probably even sweeter lips? yeah, you had him shivering under his skin. seriously, he just got cheated on not even thirty minutes ago and here he was blushing from his best friend. even worse; his blood ran south.

he gulped in response, that pretty adams apple bobbing in his throat. "uh– if you say so. thanks." your hand lingered for a moment, yet you quickly let go of him and cleared your throat. getting up off the couch. "want more coffee? i'll go make some." you offered. "yeah, sure." what he really wanted now was you.

you returned with the coffees, letting him sip at it for a moment before placing them both down on the coffee table. of course you had to bend over in those little things you called shorts. right in his face. he had to bite back a groan, even shift a bit in his seat pathetically.

poor guy, the smallest things turned him on. "you look pretty today." he complimented, more so thinking with his dick than anything. which earned a small chuckle from you. "oh, really?" you were just wearing whatever shorts and tee you found that day. so what on earth was that about?

you took your seat back down next to him, looking at him for a good awkward thirty seconds before he lunged forwards into a hug. "thank you so much... seriously, i wouldn't know what i'd do without you." he mumbled into your shoulder.

you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and letting your fingers run through the back of his hair in a soothing motion. "it's all good, lee, don't worry about it."

suddenly, you felt it. his erection pressed against you. "um?" and he immediately pulled back a bit panicked. beginning to ramble an apology on. "shit– i'm sorry! i didn't mean to or anything just, fuck, i'm sorry–"

someone had to shut him up! you just did it the more convenient way. lips pressed against his, and it didn't help that they were so soft too. like little pillows. you pulled back, and his jaw was to the floor. "holy shit."

in an instant, he laid his head on your shoulder. face buried into the crook of your neck. "i need this." he whined a little. "i need you." okay, no one warned you this man was so whiny. whiny, and convincing.

and that's how you got here. sitting pretty on his lap, in a full make-out sesh with your best friend. to be fair, best friends kissed all the time.. you think! so yeah, you were wrong before. this was really the life!

your lips moved in sequence, until he pulled back panting for air. "may i?" as he tugged at your t-shirt. "you may." met with the plush of your tits, immediately kneading them in his hands with a soft groan.

after that, the rest of your clothes were quick to go. his too. you pressed your lips to his with a few more quick kisses, taking his length in hand. to say your best friends cock was pretty was an understatement. with a slight curve upward, and a flushed tip, you knew this thing was gonna feel pretty damn good.

"haah–" he immediately gasped as your hand up and down his width. you were nearly in shock to see your friend mindlessly bucking into your hand. holy, he was effortlessly sexy.

to be honest, he could finish like this alone. but where's the fun in that? "i'mma need more, baby, please." and just like that he had you kissing his swollen lips as you aligned your entrance with him.

once you sunk your hips onto him, he immediately took hold of them. being met with your velvety walls all tight around him had put him in a trance. not that he didn't have a similar affect on you. the initial burn and stretch was a lot but after a few small minutes it all subsided for pleasure.

"holy fuck!" leon threw his head back for a split second, before picking it back up to look at you. eyes half-lidded and dewy with pleasure. "you like that, baby?" you had to tease with a smirk. "fuckin' love it."

lewd squelching and skin slapping filled the room. that, paired with you and leon's moans and whimpers in sync was a godsend. he tried to hold himself back, he really did. but not even seconds later he found himself bucking into your cunt, balls deep. his pretty tip kissing your cervix with each hit.

you gasped out as your nails dug into his muscular shoulders. which painted some red scratches along his skin for him to admire later. both of your hips moving in sync. you immediately began to sing out your pleasure, all just for him to hear. "fuck– lee, just like that!"

of course leon took that as his cue to mess with you back. "oh yeah? you like that, baby?" typical. you could tell he was close by the way he began to grit his teeth. luckily for you, the sight alone was enough to cause that knot to form in your stomach.

one of his hands let go of your hip. bringing the rough pad of his thumb down to your puffy clit to rub in a few figure eight's. earner even louder sounds from you. "you gonna cum, hm?" he spoke through grunts, feeling your walls inclose on him. "fuck, cum for me, baby." cause' a true gentleman never finishes first!

your release quickly washed over you after those five magic words, going momentarily dumb on his cock. the second you came, he followed right behind. shutting himself up by pushing his lips onto yours. entangling his tongue with yours as his hot seed began to fill you. all while he just continued to thrust it up into you.

as you both came down from your highs, you slipped off leon. before crashing down to lay against his shoulder as you caught your breath. leon watched his remnants spill out you, biting his bottom lip in a smirk. he had a split reminder of his ex, but not one that did her any justice at all. "should've known she had nothing on you."

[sicbaby]

i need DI!Leon to treat me like absolute shit but also showers me with praises and coos bc im just his dumb little fuck <3

LITERALLY working on a fic with some of this in it bc like…. yes.

di leon is such a daddy like i picture him being so sweet most of the time bc ur just his dumb little baby, but sometimes he’ll get frustrated. either with you, or with work. whatever it was, ohhh baby u bet it’s getting taken out on you.

i just imagine him coming home one day already on edge bc of a mission or what not. he’s trying to be sweet but u say some dumb shit and he roughly grabs u, throwing u to ur knees. “suck it, you dumb little bitch. that’s all you’re good for. pleasing me, taking my cock down your throat.”

he’s being so rough with you, you can’t help but cry and apologize for being so dumb.

“that’s right, you should be sorry. you’re just a dumb little baby, aren’t you? a helpless little slut who needs me to show her what to do. you’re lucky you have me to take care of you, princess. to guide you through this big, scary world.”

yeah, he’s rough with you, but you sit there and take it. let him use you like you’re nothing but a cute little sex doll. and he can’t help but soften up a bit.

“aww, look at you. crying already. you’re so cute, baby. so innocent and helpless.” he has a condescending baby voice that makes your pussy clench around his cock.

“that’s it, baby. you take it so well, don’t you? such a good little whore, knowing your place beneath me.”

“such a fucking slut, just for me. you were made for this, made just for me. such a perfect little fuck toy.”

and then maybe right after those praises he slaps u around a bit, your tongue lolling and drool spilling out of your mouth from how hard he’s fucking you.

“you love being treated like this, huh? it’s what gets you off, isn’t it? dirty bitch.”

“but it’s okay, baby. i love it. makes me so fucking hard. my dumb little bunny.”

he’ll end up using u as his own personal cum dump, not letting u cum even once until he decides when. n u don’t even complain, u can’t anyway. all that comes out of your mouth are pathetic little whines and moans.

because u know he’s right. you are his little fuck toy, getting off on being treated like shit by him. and u always come crawling back, love being degraded and objectified and being used.

and he loves you so much because you just can’t help it, your brain is so small and he takes up about 90% of your thoughts. but that’s totally okay because he does all the thinking for you. <3 so cute.

[onlyyvette]

★ DAY 3 - puppy play | leon s. kennedy

kinktober 2023 - masterlist.

warnings: top/dom reader + sub/bottom leon + gn reader + reader uses the title "sir" + petplay + collars and leashes + cockstepping + "loving" degradation + humiliation + overstimulation + boot-licking + leon is often called "dumb mutt" + and he adores it

a/n: this takes place in a "no-outbreak" au because why not

Leon S. Kennedy considered himself to be your average young, up and coming police officer. Always making sure he isn't two minutes late to work, having your coworkers tease you relentlessly for being the newest recruit, and for months being known as a simple rookie...yeah it it wasn't that great but hey, it made him happy to serve his city in the best way he thought possible.

But his relationship with you is anything but average.

"You'll be a good boy for me, right, Kennedy?" Your voice was sickeningly sweet despite Leon knowing the true implication behind your words. Behave and maybe you'll be able to cum tonight. "I will..." You look at him expectantly. "I-I will Sir." He immediately corrects himself. He didn't want to be punished so early into the night. "That's a good mutt," you say mockingly, leaning down to pat his head. You then take a seat on your plush bed and motion him closer. He obeys, crawling a bit closer to you on his hands and knees.

As he sits on his knees before you, he keeps his hands to his sides and tries his best to ignore his already hard cock. He tried to bring less attention to it but covering it would only make it obvious that he's hiding an erection. He might as well be open with his shame. "Aww, you're already hard? Hard from me telling you to strip and and putting a collar on you? You're so adorably pathetic." Even so, Leon wasn't safe from your torment. He whines as he now attempts to cover up his dick, only for his hands to be kicked away.

"Hey. Who said you could cover up? You don't deserve to hide anything from me, mutt," you emphasize your cruel words with a harsh tug on the leash attached to his collar. He stumbles forward a bit before regaining his balance and putting his hands behind his back. Leon's visibly trembling now, and you can tell your words have had an effect on him. "Fuck, it's almost like you're even harder than before. Then again I could barely tell. Your dick is so small and cute, you know that?" You give him a wicked smile before tugging on his leash even harder.

Finally, Leon begins to crack. He pulls on the collar as you're nearly chocking him with it and you can see the tears start to well up in his eyes, despite his best efforts to hide them. He wasn't even that small! He was a reasonable six inches! Though that didn't mean anything to you, you were hellbent on pointing out everything you saw unfit about him. But despite that, his pretty dick began to drip pre-cum, twitching a bit.

"And you're still getting off on this shit, no touch anywhere. You're really making me think you're just another pervert, mutt." While you sounded disgusted on the outside, you were truly thrilled. You were drinking up your mutt's pathetic reactions like it was all you needed to survive. You eye him hungrily as he shakes his head, muttering a few "not a pervert" and some other stuff that you didn't bother to listen to.

"I'm real fucking tired of seeing your pathetic cocklet, so hurry up and get off," you say, pressing the heel of your boot against Leon's weeping cock. "HhhnNGH! S-Sir!" Leon whimpers as you press your shoe harshly onto his dick, the rough stimulation making him let go of the tears collecting in his eyes, letting them fall freely. He sobs openly as he humps your shoe, leaning into the cruel treatment your were giving him, the flush from his face reaching his chest and shoulders a bit.

He continues to let out adorable moans as the rough texture of your boot rub on his aching length and he can't help but think about how mean you are to him. The crude marks you make towards him and his body, that sadistic gleam in your eyes when you looked at him...but he was ashamed of himself for being the slut that enjoyed the humiliation he received from you. He embraced it all, getting pleasure out of your twisted interactions that always left his sobbing and trembling. And he would always coming back from more, like a lost puppy.

"...Hey. Mutt." your cold voice jerks him out of his dreamy state. "Hurry the fuck up. The quicker you finish, the quicker you can put your sad excuse of a dick away." Those last words of yours were all Leon needed to cum. He covered his mouth as he came all over your boot, covering it with his cum as he trembled from the strength of his orgasm. Despite his hand covering his mouth, it didn't hide the slutty moans coming out of him. While Leon is clinging onto your leg still coming down from his orgasm, you shake him off. "You're not done yet," you say and motion to the cum on your shoe. "Clean."

With that single word order, Leon wordlessly obeys, bending down to reach your shoe. As he sticks his togue out, you add salt to the wound, pushing the tip of your shoe into his mouth. It immediately makes him recoil, tears jumping to his eyes. Still, he dutifully licks his cum off of your shoe, his tears falling down his face the whole time. God, you make him feel so fucking pathetic. He whines as he laps up the last drops of cum. You yank on his collar again and he comes back up to face you. The moment he gets back up, you step on his dick again, grinding your shoe into his oversensitive dick.

"GhHK! N-no-- uhnn!" Leon sobs as you stimulate his poor dick once again. You really weren't going to give up your relentless bullying. "You're done when I say you're done," you state simply as you continue to crush his dick underneath your shoe. Leon doesn't know how beautiful he looks right now. His eyes are glazed over while fresh tears fall from them and roll down his pink cheeks. A thin line of drool escapes from his open mouth, perfecting the lewd image. You were never going to get enough of tormenting your mutt. And Leon was never going to get tired of being the outlet for your sadistic desires.

[mo0nfairy]

Omg thoughts (in my brain) what if the reader just tweaked out and attacked them. I feel like ada would be the first to react in the sense of shes not surprised you fought back and it would take her about maybe a minute to have reader out cold (it took her so long bcs she just went into a light neck hold so reader passes out) I think Jill would recover from shock quickly but wouldn’t wanna actively “stop” the reader (violently at lest), I mean cmon we all saw the rail gun that was like 3 times her hight that she was using in re3, she KNOWS she’s strong (and that the reader isn’t) so she would just try and lightly restrain the reader. LEON AND CARLOS ON THE OTHER HAND?! Spend the whole time confused,why are you throwing a knife at them? And crying cmon, your favourite show is about to start? Stoppp? And they would just let the reader tire themselves out, they just block any and all attacks, not wanting to hurt you and knowing you’ll get tired soon only to pull reader into a suffocating hug and cooing at the reader saying they forgive them (did this make sense?)

based on the shit they have to endure, idk how reader hasn't lost their minds and thrown hands yet.

ada would find it hilarious and adorable. ofc, she will easily defend herself. but, she has to restrain from cooing over how cute the pathetic attempt was. like a child, you'll be put into 'time-out' to think about your actions. after some time (literally like 5 minutes at most), ada will return and forgive you . most likely, you will never do it again, as you have learned there is no chance at overpowering her.

leon would assume you were play-fighting and join you in the effort, returning your attempted punches and stabs with kisses. easily, you'd be overpowered and then forced to endure the weight of his embrace. any physical touch from you, no matter the intent, is seen as an ask for cuddles, of which leon will happily oblige.

jill, unsurprisingly, would make it sexual. i actually intended to write her smut scene in chapter four as reader attempting to escape and jill punishing them for such, but i ended up scraping it (i liked the motorcycle headcanon too much). so, if you were to tackle her in some feeble attempt at violence, she would easily defend herself and fuck out all that energy from your body.

and carlos? poor carlos would just sob the whole time. he would not defend himself, terrified of the prospect of hurting you. so, you can beat and strike him all you want, all while he cries and pleads for you to stop and to just love him again. in the end, you'll feel guilty for ever trying to hurt someone so weak. you should pick on someone you're own size, as they say.

[chiisdiary]

missed calls ⋆ ˚｡⋆

leon s kennedy x fem! reader, mentioned carlos oliveira fem! reader summary: After an argument with your boyfriend, you found yourself at a familiar nightclub meeting a familiar face. tags: smut, dom!leon, cheating, mild angst ?, semi-public, against the wall, toxic relationship, possessive! leon, +18 ! word count: 3.8k ? a/n: i originally posted this a while back for ao3, thought why not tumblr too ! mind the tags, mdni ! pls enjoy, feedback is much appreciated ily all !

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[ You have 3 missed calls ]

You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be here. But one dumb argument with Carlos (about God knows what) had sent you crawling back here. In this loud and obnoxious club, sitting by yourself at the bar half way through your fourth rum coke of the night. The mixture was smooth, giving your head a temporary floaty feeling that you loved so much. 

The bass of the music vibrated through your body as your eyes slowly averted to the gray flip phone you had turned off just before you arrived. How many times has Carlos called and texted you since you left the apartment? He didn’t have a clue where you were right now. He knew to give you space after a fight like this anyway but he was probably still so worried about you. Carlos was too good for you. You knew that. You loved him a lot. He took such good care of you. He would always stop by your apartment after a long night shift or surprise you at work during one of his breaks. He was always there for you. 

You hated how much he cared because you knew deep down you didn’t really deserve it. Didn’t deserve him.

You sighed as you finished the last few sips of the coconut concoction as a fifth drink slid in your direction. The bartender, Bret, along with the other employees at Heaven’s Night, knew you very well. 

You couldn’t count how many times you spent hours a night here before you met Carlos. How many times you’ve been here with him . You remembered the times he would lead you to the dance floor, how his strong dry callused hands would find your hips to guide you to match the rhythm of the music’s beat. He would always have to lean down to your ear to tease you about how you could never find the beat before his hands would pull you back to him.

“C’mon baby..” His voice would start. “You must’ve forgotten how to use those hips how I like. Here let me remind you.. Uh huh.. Just like that. That’s my girl.”

You couldn’t remember the last time the two of you were last together. You’ve tried texting him. Calling him, desperately hoping and wishing he would reply. He never did. 

It was so pathetic. You were so pathetic. 

You should go back home. Call Carlos back, tell him you’re sorry for how you acted.

Leave. Apologize. Leave. Apologize. Leave. Apologize. 

Your conscience repeated the words over and over as you finished your fourth and last drink, slipping Bret the cash to close out your tab for the night and muttering a low embarrassed ‘Thank you.’ Grabbing your purse and flipping open your phone, you started towards the exit. Thanking the voice in your head for nagging you to leave as a new wave of people began to pour into the nightclub. You kept your eyes to the screen of your phone, powering it on so you could call a cab or Carlos or both. 

Your body squeezed and pushed past the excited crowd going in the opposite direction of you. Almost as if you were fighting the strong waves of an ocean. You were annoyed, bumping shoulders hard enough you thought you would bruise. Your fingers clenched tightly around your phone, trying to press the numbers for a ride when someone bumps into you extra hard. Fed up, your head snapped back.

“Hey! Watch it, asshole!”

“Woah, woah. Easy sweetheart.” An all too familiar voice from beside you said with a light chuckle. 

Your body froze. The blaring music drowned out in your ears. You felt breathless, like you were drowning. Your head and your heart ached. (Maybe four drinks tonight pushed it just a tad bit.) 

“I… Leon?” was all your mouth could muster out. A few more people had pushed past you. You two were kind of in the way now staring at each other like past lovers from a shitty romance movie.

This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t real. You were drunk. You were seeing things. You were desperate to believe anything because there was no way he, Leon S. Kennedy, was standing right next to you at Heaven’s Night. Your special place.

“It’s been a while, huh? Were you headed out? Think you have some time to talk ?”

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‘Time to talk’ has never meant just talk to Leon. He knew that. You knew that. But there you were following behind him to the club’s back exit, staring at the back of his slightly wrinkled navy blue dress shirt. He was always shit at ironing his shirts properly. You smirk to yourself, recalling one morning where you had to help him iron out his shirt and pants because he was running late for work and thought just throwing on clothes would look just as nice. It didn’t. 

You hugged yourself as the two of you stepped outside. The night air was so chilly against your skin. The one time you forget to bring a jacket or sweater with you.

Small puddles were spread across the dark soaked pavement, reflecting the dim yellow outdoor lights. You figured it must have rained earlier, being inside a club drowned out most of the sounds from the outside world. God forbid a zombie outbreak happened, club goers wouldn’t have a clue what horrors would await them.

With his foot, Leon slid a rock to prop the back door open just a crack. Your eyes scanned over him carefully. He, for the most part, still looked the same. His arms looked more muscular than you remembered. His jaw seemed more defined than before as well. Did he grow out his hair a bit too? Your mind couldn’t remember it too well as every meet up with Leon resulted in your face pressed into his sheets or his couch or the wall turning your mind into mush ,unable to think or form coherent words.

You kept staring at him as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. You began to open your mouth to ask why exactly he had loose cigarettes just hanging in his pocket like that but then his blue eyes looked over at you.

“Still smoking, Kennedy?” You questioned him with a slight frown on your face, leaning back against the brick wall. 

“Hm.” He shrugged, the cigarette hanging from his between lips as he tried to light it before putting the lighter back into his pocket. Leon knew how much you hated the smell, how much you hated smoking in general. Even if he did look hot as hell blowing a cloud of smoke away from you. Leon started to walk towards you but you quickly stopped him with your words.

“I’ve met someone,y’know? Dating someone.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You expected that nonchalant response from him. You nearly wished he reacted differently. Maybe showed some hint of jealousy. It’s not like the two of you ever dated. You fucked a lot but never had a relationship past fuck friends. You did like him you guess. You were sure he liked you too, but you both agreed it wouldn’t work because of Leon’s work.  He disappeared a lot (for work as he would tell you). For days, weeks and even months. Never this long though. You were sure he was dead or relocated to who fucking knows where. He never told you what he did for work specifically. Some vague shit about the government or something. You even joked to yourself one time he was the President’s lapdog and he was off to rescue his daughter in some country far away.

“His name is Carlos.” you told him.

“Hm.”

“He’s a cop.”

“I was a cop.”

“Leon.” You huffed, “You said you wanted to talk. I’m trying to talk. I haven’t seen you.. I haven’t heard from you in two  fucking years. I thought.. Fuck, I thought you were fucking dead or something. You never answer my calls or texts. And now that I’ve finally moved on, you’re suddenly back? I.. I don’t get you.”

“I’ve been busy with work. You know how it is.”

“Yeah. Right. Work .” You scoffed, looking down to your phone again. “You still could’ve texted back. A simple ‘Hey! I’m not dead btw.’ woulda been nice.” You checked the call history in your phone, searching for the number of the taxi service.

[ You have 7 missed calls. ]

Great. Now you were a hypocrite.

“So where’s this cop boyfriend of yours? He know where you are?” Leon’s voice nearly sounded mocking.

“No.” You didn’t mean to answer that, especially not that quickly. “Got into an argument. I’m probably in the wrong.”

“Huh.” Now it was Leon’s turn to scoff. “Must’ve been real bad if you crawled to this hellhole. Our hellhole.” 

You cracked a small smile, relieved your face was mostly hidden from him. You didn’t want to not give him the satisfaction. 

You shook your head. 

“Still corny as ever, Kennedy. Nice knowing you’re the same guy from all those years ago.” 

You lifted your head to watch Leon getting closer to you again. This time you didn’t say anything to stop him as he had you completely backed against the brick wall. The strong scent of his cologne was almost enough to mask the smell of cigarettes. 

Almost.

“I missed you, y’know?” His voice was low, breathy. A toned arm over your head as the other kept the lit cigarette away from you. 

Your breath hitched as you inhaled attempting to calm the rapid rhythm that ached in your chest.

“Hm.. You sure don’t act like it.”

“Could always make it up to you. In that way that you like.”

You couldn’t shouldn’t do that to Carlos.

“Leon…”

“Yeah, yeah. Cop boyfriend whatever guy. He’s probably a good guy. Better than me anyway. Mostly.” He snickered, tossing the cigarette to the soaked pavement and extinguishing it under his foot. 

“I should go..” You told him.

“You probably should but that’s not what you want, is it, baby?” 

You bit down on your tongue. You didn’t answer his assumptions but the both of you knew he was right. 

Two years. It took you two years to finally let go of any thoughts of Leon. At the thought there was a possibility you two would be something more. 

It took you two years to stop laying in bed curled up in an old t-shirt of his that no matter how many times you washed, his scent continued to linger. 

It took you two years to get over Leon S. Kennedy and in the matter of 10 minutes, he unraveled all of that. 

“I hate you.” You quietly told him, eyes burning from the tears that threatened to leave them.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He apologized. 

His free hand lifted your chin to make you look up at him. His thumb traced along your glossy lips that instinctively parted with a quiet inhale. He chuckled at how quickly you submitted to his actions. 

You were always such a good girl for him. 

Slowly your eyes closed. A calloused hand had slowly traced down your curves to rest possessively on your hip, yanking you close to him to fill the gap between you. His fingers gripped you tightly as if he wouldn't allow you to get away. Not when he finally had you again after all these years. 

Hungrily, Leon’s lips found yours. You always hated when he would kiss you after he smoked. You wished he would quit but you know that he wouldn’t and it was stupid of you to think that. 

Not nearly as stupid thinking you could move on with sweet, kind Carlos knowing that if he ever did return, Leon would always find his way back to you. Back into your mind, your heart. The part of you that you had sworn was missing for so long has now sewn its way back into you. You weren’t sure if you would be able to let him go again.

Rough fingers began to slip under your blouse. You shivered. His fingertips were fucking freezing against your warm belly.

“Fuck, Kennedy… Fingers cold..” You grumbled on his lips. You tried to pry his hand off, wiggling uncomfortably in his grip, but of course he was much stronger than you. Stronger than he was before he left. You felt him breathe out a chuckle.

“Hmm.. Sorry, baby. Warm me up, okay? Like you always do.” His fingers continued to tip toe up your smooth stomach, popping a couple buttons from underneath just careful enough to keep them intact.

“Le-on !” 

Leon took advantage of your parting lips to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Your cheeks flushed, your hands moving from his wrist to slide up his arm and shoulder to his neck. The tips of your fingers grabbed a small bit of his hair, dirty blonde strands wrapping around them loosely. You felt him smirk cockily in the kiss which only slightly annoyed you.

His hand cupped your right tit, giving it a quick squeeze to make you hum. Fingers traced the lacy outline of your bra. Leon slightly growled. It’s been two years but he remembered that when you wore that bra, it meant you were also wearing that black lacy thong to match. 

You always knew how to drive Leon crazy even when you weren’t trying to. He couldn’t count on fingers how many nights he tore those same panties from your perfect legs. The times the fabric would be shoved into your pretty little mouth if you moaned too loudly in the hallway of your apartment building or his or the bathroom of this club. Those afternoons his fingers were pressed so hard against your cunt, you would hide the soaked thong in your purse after lunch breaks. Hoping, praying you wouldn’t have to make too many trips to the printer for your boss and colleagues.

The hand that once caressed your hip began to graze down between your plush thighs, a thumb lightly brushing against your sensitive aching mound. You tried to gasp but Leon kept your lips busy with his own. He barely touched you and you were already a mess. Your thighs closed around his hand but another light touch caused them to open just enough for Leon to palm your heat.

You were so fucking wet . Fuck !

Leon groaned. Oh fuck - he just wanted to take you right there and then. Bury his throbbing length so deep inside of you that you would croak out his name and forget that good cop (whatever the fuck his name was). 

But Leon couldn’t, not yet anyway. He had to take care of his good girl first. Make up for those two lousy years he was forced to spend from you. 

His palm pressed up against your clothed pussy. The pressure alone made your eyes flutter. You gripped his hair a bit tighter, the other hand pressed firmly on the wall behind you. Your hips rocked forward then pushed back then back forward again and back once more. You could hardly hear the friction of your fabric over your small pants and whimpers. Your head was fuck spinning, an intoxicating blend of your lust and tipsyness clouding your better judgement. 

At some point, you were looking up at Leon who was watching you with hooded eyes and a satisfied smirk. You flushed with embarrassment. Stupid cocky asshole.

Your hips slowed down for just a moment. Leon frowned for a moment. He slid his hand from your breast to press firmly against your belly, making you lean against the wall even more than you were before. Quickly, his palm rubbed your pussy hard enough that your vision dimmed and you cried out so beautifully. Like a fucking siren trying to lure him into your trap. 

“Fu..fu..” You tried so desperately to say the word. The heat in your stomach grew with each harsh rub. Your lips puckered. Curled up. Teeth biting down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan which displeased Leon. And his hand would pull back just to come back up with an unforgiving slap!  You would whine, he’d smile and right back on your cunt his hand would go to rub as he brought you closer and closer and closer to that sweet release you oh so desperately were chasing after.

You barely noticed how bunched up your skirt was up on your hips. The cold air of the city blew against your exposed thighs and you trembled again. You squeezed your eyes shut, moans croaking from your throat. Right there. Right there.

“Oh my God, Leon! I’m-”

Leon pulled his hand away at your announcement and you nearly fell to the pavement but Leon still had you trapped between him and the wall like some sort of fucked up sandwich. 

You looked up at him with eyes wet from tears, lips agape. Shocked. Disappointed. Confused. Angry.

“L-Leon, why would you-”

His lips were back on yours. You tilted your head back to melt in the possessive kiss. A finger hooked on your panties, yanking them down as much as he could get them. He let you wiggle your hips so they could drop to your ankles, now bounding your legs from moving too much. 

You were so fucking cute and sexy. Leon was going to devour you.

“...’round…” He muttered, barely allowing your lips to be apart more than a half inch.

“Huh?”

His hands were holding your hips now, squeezing so hard you were sure would leave marks to hide from Carlos.

“Fucking turn around.”

You whined. Leon gave you little time to react before he was turning you around away from him. Your cheek gently pressed on the cold brick wall. His eyes looked over you, savoring the curves of your frame with hunger. His thumbs pressed into the dips of your back for just a moment. 

You could hardly see what he was doing between the poorly lit alley and the fact your head movements were limited at the moment. He pressed himself into you, his head craning so his lips could pepper small pecks on your ear and side of your head.

“Le-” 

“I know, baby, fuck. I need you. I fucking need you.” He muttered in your ear. Your heart fluttered at the sound of his belt loosening, his zipper being pulled down.

“Need to be inside of you. Need to feel you fucking cum all over my cock.” The head of his cock was already coated in pre-cum. He swiped a thumb over the tip, making him let out a feral growl. He teased it against your waiting heat a few times, your legs trembling with anticipation. 

He wanted to tease you until you were begging for him to be inside but Leon couldn’t stand another second not being inside his baby girl.

Holding your hips with both of his hands, Leon lined his cock up with your entrance and slid it inside of you groaning your name and forcing you to cry his out in return. Leon didn’t let you settle or adjust to the girth of his cock. With how much he’s fucked you back then, it wasn’t necessary. 

Your eyes, again, rolled back. The velvety warm walls of your cunt clenched immediately around Leon, the warmth you felt in your lower abdomen flared up once more and when your eyes shut tightly, you swore you saw speckles of stars. Any lick of sense or morals you had before were fucked out your mind, leaving you just to focus on your messy orgasm.

“Fuuuuck.. Fucking good girl.. Mmf.. That’s a good fucking girl. Now make me feel good, baby. Fuck, fuck, just like that. Oh fuck.” Leon moaned through gritted teeth. 

His hand snaked from your hips, up your soft tummy, to your neck where he gripped just tight enough that you gasped. He held you so tightly but lovingly, pounding into your cunt faster and faster. 

The plaps of your bodies meeting each other in the alley were drowned out by the sounds of the city, cars honking, and the muffled music and chatter from inside. Your mind wondered what would happen if someone were to walk across this alley or an employee leaving from the back to take out the garbage and you tightened once more around Leon. He groaned.

“Naughty girl, thinking about if someone were to catch you getting fucked by me, huh?” You hated how well he read your mind. You couldn’t say anything, just a moan in response and he chuckled. 

“Ha.. Mmm.. What would your good guy cop boyfriend think, huh? Seeing his girl being reclaimed by the asshole that abandoned her. Tsk.. Tsk..” There goes that mocking tone that you were sure was followed by a cocky grin. 

Fuck Leon.

But you couldn’t protest with his hand gripping your neck. Your painted nails clawed at the wall. Leon was showing no signs of letting go or slowing down. Not when he was getting so close. His cock pulsed inside of you, brushing just shy from your g-spot that you whined.

Harder, Leon. Just a little bit harder.

“Gonna fucking.. Fill you up with my cum.. F-fucking breed my girl.. Oh fuck, tighten just a little bit more, baby girl.”

An arm found itself wrapped around your thigh, Leon’s rough fingers working your sensitive clit so you would tighten more just like he wanted. He grunted into your ear, thrusting one, two, three, four more times. 

“..th.. me.. Cum with me, baby. Come on. Give it to me.”

It was just enough to send you over the edge once more. A second orgasm that not even you knew you had in you. A sudden heat shoots right into you, one final thrust that filled your cunt with so much of Leon’s seed that it overflowed and trickled down the sides of your thighs.

“God, Leon.. Fuck!” You shouted when his grasp left your throat. He held onto your hips, kissed your ear, your cheek, the top of your head. He begrudgingly pulled out of you, smacking a hand across your ass to make you yelp. You looked behind to glare at him but he shrugged like the asshole he is.

Leon held you as you shamefully pulled your underwear back up, readjusted your skirt and blouse and bent over to pick up the flip phone you had apparently dropped at some point. You wiped the built up sweat from your forehead, turning back around to watch Leon tuck his dick back into his dark jeans. He looked over to catch you staring and he smiled but you looked away with a dark blush across your cheeks.

“I’m going to have to clean up now, no thanks to you.” You grumbled, shifting on your feet. Leon laughed at your complaint.

“Could always help you with that, y'know. Take you back to my place to ‘clean each other up.’” He winked. You groaned but Leon kept that damn smirk on his face while he watched you, digging back into his pocket to fetch another cigarette.

You flipped your phone open, navigating back to the phone history to call that cab. You felt a pit in your stomach.

“Oh fuck.”

[ You have 13 missed calls ]

[nyxiswrites1200]

💚𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔💚

Sam Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Early seasons Sam (spoilers S1-3), Romantic, Mentions nightmares, Mentions of sex, fingering, This is my opinion based on Sam's character and what I've watched so far

An: I'm so insane guys, I just had to dump out all my Sammy thoughts <3 I'm working on the Leon thing but I hated it and started over :( anyhow, enjoy my insanity.

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Sam is a gentle lover, his nature alone is naturally gentle. He doesn't see the world in black and white but rather shades of gray. He doesn't like lying or doing things he considers unnecessary.

I feel like Sam doing things irrationally comes from being pushed to the edge. He gets put under so much stress or such a drive to save someone that he does stuff that isn't like him. Even then, he tends to have a plan of what he's gonna do.

I personally think Sam has nightmares. Between the psychic visions he would have and all the tragedies he's witnessed. I especially feel like his mom, Jessica, and Madison are recurring ones. I would say he takes sleeping pills but I also think maybe he's too on edge to make himself that vulnerable.

It would be hard to get Sam into another relationship. With all the tragedies of the other girls he fell for, he'd be worried to indulge in someone else..

Sam smells like pine trees, very earthy I can imagine. If you've ever walked into a motel room, it's freshly cleaned, that kind of smell is something I also associate with him.

When thinking of products he uses specifically. He definitely has some good smelling shampoo and conditioner for that hair. Also thinking of maybe old spice products such as deodorant (not sure why, it just feels right.) Maybe it's something Jessica introduced him to and he's always stuck with it now, not wanting the trouble of changing it. That is if he has the option of choice, free motel products are probably the norm for him.

Imagining a sleeping Sam in those plaid pajama pants and a gray T-shirt, or no shirt preferably.

But if he did allow himself to be with someone again...

Sam is a gentleman. We see him opening doors and comforting people all the time in the show. He would open any door for you, hold you, comfort you, whatever you needed.

Sam is a big baby at times! Sometimes he is so pathetic and I mean that in the most loving way ever. He definitely loves cuddles and not having to sleep alone, especially if he has nightmares or visions. It helps having you there to comfort him, just knowing he isn't alone.

Imagine giving Sam a bracelet or anything he can wear honestly, he'd wear it all the time. My first thought being just some simple bracelet you think would suit him, he'd never take it off. Pulling his jacket sleeve over it during hunts to make sure it doesn't get damaged.

If Sam was worried about your safety in a situation, he'd keep you so close. If he could, he'd hold your hand or keep his arm around you. Beforehand, he'd definitely try to make you stay at the motel and wait.

Sam seems like he'd hold his jacket over you if it suddenly started raining. He never cared if he got soaked by the rain. But you? He'd go the extra mile, or he'd just give you his jacket if you looked cold.

But also kissing in the rain?? Stupidly cliche but maybe after a day of researching with him you get caught out in the rain. However, you don't mind as you drag him into a kiss, tangling a hand into his wet hair. Who is he to deny you?

After stressful hunts, you and Sam will curl up in the motel room together. Sam laying face down between your legs, his head resting on your stomach or chest. His arms wrapped around your waist or rubbing your hips/thighs.

---NSFW---

You love to mess with his hair and he loves when you do. Just running your fingers through it brings him a sense of calm.

Pet names he would call you would consist of baby, sweetheart, sweetie, lovely. He'd love calling you affectionate names but wouldn't overuse them.

Sam is definitely a dominant person in bed. He likes the sense of control he can have in this situation when he loses control of everything else in his life.

He's a soft dom though. Lots of praise and making sure you're okay with everything. He wouldn't wanna push you too far or hurt you. He prefers it to be an intimate moment with mutual pleasure and care.

His favorite positions are anything where he can look into your eyes or see your face. He likes holding you in his lap, facing each other, while you ride him. Just so he can lean in and kiss you when he wants or just press his forehead against yours. A good old missionary is also fine by him! Just being able to hold your hips and see himself thrusting in you, it makes his cock twitch.

I have this image of Sam lazily fingering you. Sam's arms and hands are so attractive (the veins!!). He's got you stretched out on two fingers as he slowly pumps them in and out. He's holding you, back pressed into his chest, and his free arm around your mid-section.

He'll make you cum multiple times, at least two if you're willing. Whether he's got you stretched on his fingers or his cock, he knows exactly what you like.

"Does that feel good?" He coos into your ear, his fingers moving faster inside of you. "Doing such a good job..." He praises into your ear before kissing your temple. "Can you finish for me, sweetheart?"

Aftercare is a must! Sam always does aftercare. Whether that's just praising you and making sure you are okay before you both fall asleep or giving you a nice shower/bath. He always makes sure you're taken care of, even if it was only a one night kind of deal, he wouldn't just up and leave.

Anyhow, I just think Sammy is amazing and he'd be such a good boyfriend <3

[cweampier]

leon loves it when you cry, your face covered in tears as he coos at you and licks them away <3 (i know from first hand experience)

god what he’d give. what he’d fucking give to have a cute girl crying in front of him IDK if i stuck with what you asked for sorry if i went off the rails a bit.. hehe

fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you pouted, the way you mewled as leon fucked himself between your thighs, chasing only for his release. he was so mean for that, and he knew it. but he couldn’t help it, seeing you so desperate for his dick enough to shed tears for it really ignited something inside him. an insatiable appetite presented itself to him.. and fuck did he love a good chase every once in awhile.

“l-leon.. please, want you so bad..” you hiccuped, trying to angle your hips to potentially get the head of his cock to penetrate your aching cunt to no avail. he couldn’t help but feel amused by your unrelenting pleads, so oblivious to how greedy you sounded. “poor baby.. so dumb and needy, what am i gonna do with you, mn?” he cooed as he leaned in closer to your face, swiping his tongue over your glistening cheek, tasting the saltiness of your tears. he felt almost guilty for enjoying this as much as he was. he decided to continue to chip away at your patience, making sure to calculate his thrusts tactically enough to make contact with your neglected clit, bumping the tip of his pretty cock against it teasingly.

you were so confused, it was like you weren’t being heard. usually he spoiled you rotten, what’s with the sudden change? you stared back at him glossy eyed, in which he responded with a cocky grin before frowning mockingly. “you’re.. g’na finish what you started,” you responded, pathetic. he raised a brow, slowing his hips as he pressed them against the plumpness of your ass, cock slotted snuggly between your folds as he pressed his chest against your back. it earned a groan from the both of you, feeling his breath tickle your neck.

“it’s a good try but i don’t exactly take orders from desperate little brats,” he began, watching another tear roll down your disheveled face in awe, you really were something. “look at you all snotty face just cause you didn’t get it your way. want my cock bottoming out inside that greedily little pussy of yours so badly, don’t’cha? need me to pay extra attention to that clit’a yours? so cute..” he continued to egg you on with a filthy mouth, trying to get you to admit defeat. your lips pursed flatly together, feeling them tremble as more tears threatened to fall. you shut your eyes tightly before giving into his attempts to pester you further.

“inside,” you cry out dumbly, on the verge of tears once more to no one’s surprise. “wan’ your cock inside, leon, please-!” your head spun, leon fucking kennedy. only a man like him could ever hold the capabilities of having a pretty girl wailing for him to fuck her. “fuck me, leon, want it s’bad. promise, i’ll be good for you.. so good.” leon sat there, admiring his work, reducing you into nothing but a beseeching mess before him.

he sneered lightheartedly before parting your thighs swiftly with his hand, positioning himself in front of your sobbing pussy as the cool air brushed against it, sending shivers down your spine. “atta girl, that’s all i wanted to hear. see what happens when you use your words?” he lectured softly before unsheathing himself inside you, relishing in your plush walls as they welcomed him with earnest.. <333 ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[hheaven-sentt]

blood and bone III

summary: vulnerability leads to injury. sometimes, injuries can heal with minimal scarring | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 4.8k

warnings: mentions of violence and gore, alcohol consumption, language, two idiots in love, angst for a bit, mentions of regrets and a bit of self loathing, reveal about reader (i have been planting the seeds of it omg i'm so excited)

notes: part 3 as promised omg i feel unstoppable | ao3

blood and bone ml

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It feels like there’s a hole in your chest. You go through the motions, not paying attention to much else. It feels good to throw yourself into your work. There’s nothing else keeping you steady anymore. The sting of rejection hangs heavy on your skin, it’s all you can think about. Does Leon know? Does he know that you want to know him as intimately as you know guts and sinew? Does he know how bad it hurts to know that he won’t let you?

“You’re being dramatic,” Rebecca says. You look at her through your lashes over the files you’re examining. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,”

You sigh. No, perhaps it wasn’t. “I don’t know,”

Rebecca frowns, contorting her soft features into some kind of sympathy, and leaves you to your sorrow.

Your apartment is so empty when you return to it. It’s always been this way, but it somehow feels worse now. Before your trip to New York, you’d had something to hope for. You felt a bit brighter. Now, you feel as empty as the living room of your place. It’s too cold here.

You collect your forgotten glass from last night. There’s a bit of liquor still loose in the bottom. You wash it out in the sink and place the glass on the counter. You feel like crying.

Everything is too much. The case that is no longer yours lives in your brain, Leon’s rejection weighs down your bones, and you feel more alone than you have in months.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the salty taste runs over your lips. Tears claw at your throat, feeling like barbed wire scratching at your insides. You try to blink them away, but it just makes their assault worse. With a sigh, you sink to the floor. You feel pathetic, crying on your kitchen linoleum. There's nothing worse than crying alone in a place not meant for tears. You breathe in deeply, feeling empty with each intake. You put your head in your hands.

It’s then that your phone rings. With a groan, you stand, snagging the phone from where it rests on the counter. You flip it open with one hand.

“Hello?” you ask, sniffing aggressively in order to maintain some sort of composure.

“You okay?” Rebecca’s voice, soft and delicate, drifts into your ear from the speaker.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Place is real dusty, made the mistake of kicking it all up,”

With a small laugh, Rebecca continues. “I just wanted to remind you of the gala tomorrow night. The whole team is going, which includes you, so wear something nice,”

You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll sit this one out. Those places make me anxious anyway,”

“No way,” Rebecca says. “You have to come. You’re, like, the guest of honor,”

You frown deeply, scrunching your features together in what looks like a wince. A gala is the last thing you need right now. It really sounds like your worst nightmare.

“He’ll be there,” Rebecca says. You frown more.

“Is that supposed to convince me to come?” you ask, picking at a piece of the counter that’s peeling up.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Probably a month ago,” you say, pursing your lips. “Haven’t seen him since we got back from New York,”

“Yikes,” Rebecca says. You roll your eyes. She doesn’t know the half of it. “Just wear something nice, okay? I expect to see you decked out in all your best jewels,”

“Right, because I’m known for those,” you joke.

She bids you goodbye, and you stare at the shadows on your floor cast by your body in the light of the rangehood. You don’t even know what you would say to Leon. An apology doesn’t seem quite right, neither does pretending nothing ever happened. If anything, you’re sort of hoping he ignores you completely. That would be much easier than pretending to enjoy small talk.

With a groan, you take yourself to bed. This is something you can think about in the morning.

The sunlight does not shed any new perspective on the situation. You’re hopelessly staring at your closest, running through your options of what to wear.

“This is childish,” you mumble to no one in particular, and thread through your clothes to find a simple button down and pleated pants. They will have to do.

You dress quickly. You’re stuffing your shirt into your pants when a button pops off. It lands with a clang against your mirror. You groan, a long, drawn out sound that releases some of your tension. Why can’t anything go right for you on days like this? You reach down to pick up the fallen button, choosing to discard it on your nightstand. Maybe you could figure out how to sew it back on. It can’t be much different than sewing up a wound, right?

The taxi ride to the banquet hall is silent, save for the staticky noise of the radio. The cabbie doesn’t speak, and you prefer it that way. There’s not much for you to say anyway, at least in terms of small talk. You’re not exactly keen on sharing your pathetic situation either. So you remain silent until you pull up to the building. Checking your pockets for your necessities, you push out of the cab. It’s starting to drizzle, so you hurry inside.

You find Rebecca quickly, wearing a beautiful tan dress that hugs her figure well. You suddenly feel frumpy. The cuffs of your sleeves are fraying, your shoes are a size too small, and your pants barely brush the tops of your feet. Maybe you should’ve just stayed home.

“You made it!” Rebecca cheers, shoving a glass of champagne into your hand. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would,”

You force a smile, and say, “Me neither,”

She grins at you, threading her arm through yours. She drags you amongst the other guests, greeting the ones she knows and introducing herself to the ones she doesn’t. You admire her ability to fit into any space. There’s no evidence to suggest that she has ever seen horror, no clues that point to sorrow running in her veins. You cannot say the same for yourself. You’re fidgety, uncomfortable, and try your best not to speak to others. Your eyes shift across the ballroom, looking at the hundreds of heads that are crammed into the space. It makes you frown.

“Doing okay?” Rebecca asks. You nod. “We can find somewhere to sit?”

“You keep mingling,” you say, pulling your arm free from her. “Come find me when it gets boring,”

She flashes you a smile that has lingering worry, and lets you drift into the crowd. This is the last place you want to be, and she knows it. You find an empty table near a big window. The curtains are drawn back, and you can see the rain beginning to pelt down onto the courtyard outside. You’re not sure how long you watch the rain fall, casually sipping your champagne. The screech of a chair being pulled out beside you draws you back to reality.

Leon looks handsome, albeit uncomfortable, in his pressed suit. He fidgets with the cuffs of his jacket as he sits, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You swallow hard.

“You looked lonely,” he says, adjusting in his chair. “Figured you could use some company,”

“I appreciate the kindness,” you say, setting your glass onto the table. He finally levels his gaze on you, and a chill snakes down your spine. “I’m alright, though,”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get away from the crowd,” he says, half smiling. 

You’re not sure what to say, so you don’t say anything. You turn your gaze back to the throng of people casually conversing like nothing bad has ever happened. The thought makes you frown. Of all the horrors and devastation you’ve seen, this has got to be the worst. People mingling and drinking like others aren’t dying a few states away.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Leon’s voice pulls you back to him. It��s a bit gruff and worn, like he’s been talking all night. Maybe he has. “Seeing people dance and laugh and be so care free?”

You nod. “They have no idea what’s out there,”

“No, they don’t,” he says, trailing his eyes over your crossed legs. “Maybe it’s better that way,”

“Maybe,” you muse, reaching for your glass again. It was half full before Leon sat down; it’s now almost completely empty. Your mouth feels dry.

“How’ve you been?” Leon asks, leaning forward, forearms on his knees. You watch him carefully, like he’s hiding something.

“Fine,” you say. You’re not sure why the words come out so clipped. You can’t find it in yourself to be sorry, though. He wants arm’s length? That’s what you’ll give him. “You?”

He frowns. “I’m alright. Just haven’t heard from you,”

“Didn’t know you wanted to,” you say. The lines around his mouth deepen, and you want to kiss them away.

“Are we back to this, then?” he asks. You feel his gaze on every inch of your skin. You feel suddenly exposed, raw. You frown.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you ask, swallowing. “Easier that way,”

You’re not sure why you throw the words back in his face, but you don’t exactly regret it. He watches you like he’s studying you.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice low and delicate, like he’s treading uncharted waters. You suppose that’s exactly what he’s doing.

You frown. “You said it. Not me,”

“But is that what you want?”

You don’t know. You want him to give you more than surface level. You want him to be open with you. You want him to laugh at your jokes, and sit on your couch, and help you cook dinner. You want him to know you.

“I don’t know, Leon,” you say. Something sparks in his eyes, an emotion you can’t quite place.

He’s silent for a while before asking, “What’s your sister’s name?”

You gape at him. “Angela,”

“Did you like having a sibling growing up?” he asks, scooting his chair a few inches closer.

You smile a bit. “Sometimes. Other times, I wanted her to disappear. Y’know, sibling quarrel and all that,”

“I don’t, actually,” he says. You furrow your brow. “I didn’t have any siblings,”

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much else you can say. “You’re welcome to have mine, if you like,”

He laughs then, bright and wide. “I think I’m alright. I’ve learned to like being alone,”

“What did you do?” you ask. “Before everything, I mean,”

He contemplates your question for a moment, like he’s deciding if he wants to share pieces of himself with you. “I was a cop,”

“Noble,” you say, smiling. “That tracks,”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you say, sighing. “Was training to be an EMT, but…things got in the way, and now I’m here,”

“So you’ve always been interested in medicine?” he asks. You nod. “Did you ever want to be a doctor?”

“No,” you say. “Wanted to be in the thick of it. Saving lives, and all that,”

He grins. “Bet you regret that a bit now,”

You shrug. “Sometimes. I like my job,”

“Even when it’s hard?”

“Even when it’s hard,”

He’s silent then. You watch him watch you. Something shifts in the tension between you, and you relax into your chair a bit more. There’s no one else in the room, no music playing, nothing. Just you and Leon, trying your hands at getting to know someone. You’re not sure you know how to be vulnerable like this anymore, not after everything. Visions of blood caked under your fingernails and memories of the screams of the damned make knowing another person challenging.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask. He grins at you like a child.

“Green,” he says. You nod. “Yours?”

“I like a good burgundy,” you say. He rolls his eyes playfully. “Or maroon,”

“Are those not the same thing?”

You laugh. “Not even close. Burgundy is more brown, maroon is more of a reddish purple,”

“Right, my bad,” he says, smiling.

The hole in your chest begins to close. This feels like an olive branch. You want to pull him into your orbit, feel him on every inch of your skin. You want him to consume you. You’re almost positive that he would.

“Come dance with me,” he says. You almost drop your jaw at the suggestion.

“Who are you and what have you done with Leon?” you tease, wringing your hands together. You want to take him up on the offer, more than you think you know, but it doesn’t seem like something he would do. You’re almost worried that this is some cruel ploy.

He laughs. “We can do something normal for once. No harm in it,”

You nod, standing to follow him into the crowd of other couples. His hand is steadfast on your waist, the other gently clasping one of your own. You feel stiff as he leads.

“Loosen up,” he says, leaning further into you. Your throat feels like it closes up.

“I’m loose,” you lie. He grins at you, perfectly soft lips pulling around his stupidly white teeth. God, you want to kiss him.

You decide then that you don’t want easy. You don’t want to keep him at an arm’s length, and you’ll do anything to convince him he doesn’t want it either. You want him, wholly and vulnerable, completely. You want him to look out for you. You want to do mundane, domestic things with him. You want to cut his hair because the barber never gets it right. You want to walk into the kitchen and see him doing the dishes, not because you asked but because he wanted to clean up your conjoined space. You want to fold laundry with him.

You’ve never wanted this way, or this much. Before, you’d been so content to let him be cold and detached, to throw yourself into your work and live alone. Now, you’re not happy with that. And you think he knows that too.

“You look nice tonight,” he says, voice low and gentle. It washes over you in a wave, settling your bones and warming your blood.

“Careful,” you tease, smiling. “I might think you’ve gone soft on me,”

“I think you knew that already,” he says. “This is the part where you tell me that I look nice too,”

He does look nice. You knew that already. His suit is almost all black, save for the cuff links that shine against the lights of the ballroom. He looks more than nice. He looks perfect, collected.

“Well, now you’ve gone too far,” you say, grinning so wide that your cheeks hurt. He rolls his eyes. “You do look nice, though,”

When the music fades out, he doesn’t let go. You don’t want him to anyway. You want to stay here, like this, forever. You want him to keep holding you until you’re both no more than dust. He drums a rhythm on your side with his fingers, and a shiver runs through you.

“Take a walk with me,” he says, almost bumping his nose with yours when he leans in to look at you. He’s a hair’s width away, and if you leaned in a touch, you’d be kissing him. You wonder what would happen if you did.

“Okay,” you say.

He leads you out of the crowd by your hand, which you can feel the beads of sweat beginning to form upon. You catch Rebecca’s eye as you move through the crowd. She gives you a wide smile and a subtle thumbs up, which you scowl at. It’s raining hard when you exit the ballroom. You can barely see the cars on the street ahead of you through the thick sheet of water coming down.

“Still want to take that walk?” you ask, looking up at Leon. He’s still holding your hand. He grins at you.

“Afraid you’ll melt?” he returns. You laugh. He gives your hand a squeeze. “Just for a bit,”

You’re soaked to the bone two minutes after you step into the shower. Your clothes stick to every inch of your skin and a cold wind blows, threatening to freeze the very marrow within your body. You won’t let it, not when Leon is looking at you the way he is, cheeks tinged pink from laughter and smiling so wide that you can see your reflection in his teeth.

He never once lets go of your hand as he leads you down the sidewalk. You’re silent, but it’s not uncomfortable. A car whizzes by, nearly splashing you, but Leon pulls you into him and covers your body with his. You catch a whiff of whatever fancy cologne he’s wearing, and you almost feel drunk on it. Maybe it’s the champagne you’d been sipping, but you’re not sure. He keeps you within reach, just in case another car attempts to sour your evening, he says.

“Why do you never call me by my name?” he asks suddenly, looking at you through stringy and soaked hair.

You shrug. “Everyone calls you by your name,” you say. “That’s also not entirely true. I only call you ‘Kennedy’ sometimes,”

“Only when you’re mad at me,” he says, grinning. “Which is often,”

“Well,” you say, returning the wattage of his smile. “There’s your answer,”

You stare at him for a moment, taking in the sheer beauty of his person. Before, you’d thought he was all hard edges and crisp lines. That he would cut you if you got too close. Now, though, in this moment and this lighting, he is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. Round cheekbones, soft lips, gentle features that are perfectly symmetrical. He has a few freckles dotted across his cheeks, smile lines that make his eyes crinkle. A hairline scar that extends across his right cheek. Without thinking, you reach out, smoothing your fingertips over it. It’s not that deep, barely snagging on the ridges of your fingerprints. You hear a breath hitch in his throat at the movement.

“Sorry,” you say, retracting your hand. “I didn’t mean to do that,”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes scan your face, lashes fluttering against the assault of the rain. He returns the gentle gesture by pushing a few wet strands of hair out of your eyes. His touch is ghostly, barely there.

“I never thanked you,” you say. He furrows his brows. “For staying with me that night. It…it really helped me,”

“You needed me,” he says. “Did you know that you snore?”

You bark a laugh that you can’t stop from bubbling over the surface. “I do not,”

He grins. “You totally do. It’s almost scary. I didn’t know a person could make that kind of noise,”

“You’re so mean,” you say, frowning. “You really know how to flatter someone,”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go. I need out of these clothes,”

He leads you down a few winding streets, making turns that seem random. It dawns on you then that he’s bringing you back to his apartment. Your heart leaps into your throat, clogging up your breath and your functioning. Your brain is swimming. You’re going to see how he lives, what his life looks like outside of work. He’s letting you.

He only drops your hand to get the door open. The lock jams, which you can’t help but laugh at, and then he’s finally letting you into his space.

His apartment is almost bare, similar to yours. White walls wrap the space, a few items dotted around on tables. He doesn’t own a television, you note. There’s a wall of shelves, though, filled pretty decently with books. You didn’t take him for a reader, but you suppose it makes sense. You toe your shoes off near the door, soaked clothes dripping onto the hardwood floor beneath you.

“Sorry about the mess,” you say, looking up at him. He shrugs.

“Better rain water than something else,” he says. You smile.

You follow him to his room, watching the way he begins to loosen in the space. Regardless of the lack of personality, this place is his home. It’s where he feels most comfortable, most him. And he let you into it. He digs through a tattered dresser that has likely seen many homes, turning only to haphazardly chuck an old shirt at you. You barely catch it, letting out a huff of air at the impact. He follows it with a pair of shorts.

“You’re welcome to shower,” he says, tugging off his sopping suit jacket. He begins working on the buttons of his shirt next, and you almost let your jaw drop.

“I think I’m done with water for a few hours,” you say, cheeks growing warm. He’s halfway to his navel when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You guess on which door it is and push into it, closing it behind you. You catch your breath.

You feel giddy. You can’t help the childish smile that creeps onto your lips.You change quickly, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You look frumpy, but very comfortable. You wonder what you’ll do next. Maybe he’ll just call you a cab and send you home. You pray to whoever is listening that that isn’t the case. With a heavy exhale, you leave the bathroom.

“Just leave your clothes in there,” Leon hollers from his bedroom. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow,”

You nod, following his voice. He’s clad in a sweatshirt that is a bit too big on him and a pair of sweatpants. He looks so human. You take a moment to look around the room. Where he didn’t have a television in his living room, he does have one in here. You think that’s odd. There’s a VHS player balanced precariously on top of a few books, wires running across the floor to connect to the television on a table. You wonder if this is where he spends most of his time. He leans over the VHS player, popping a tape into its mouth. Then, he settles into his bed.

You’re standing in the doorway, wearing his clothes, watching him get comfortable in his bed. You feel like some weird stalker or voyeur. It makes the tips of your ears burn.

“You can come sit, y’know,” Leon says, grinning at you. Something shifts in his gaze; he must see the turmoil on your face. “Or I can call you a cab,”

You shake your head, moving to join him. He leaves plenty of space between you–always the gentleman. You don’t recognize the movie playing on the screen, but you watch it anyway, focus so trained on it to prevent you from staring at Leon. The film drones on even though you’re not really paying attention. Leon shifts beside you, arm brushing against yours. You almost stop breathing. You feel silly for feeling this way; childish, weak, vulnerable. You wish you could be more nonchalant, more like your peers. But you don’t know how to be like that anymore. You only know quick action and timidness. You only know how to hide vulnerability for the sake of keeping people from asking if you know what you’re doing. You only know how to be closed off in the hopes that people won’t ask you how you are.

Because you know the answer. You know that if someone asks, you might unload on them. You might tell them how much you miss your family, how hard it is to dig through bodies and pull out their most valuable pieces. You might tell them how much you miss home, how much you regret taking a job in Raccoon City, how much you wish you’d stayed in school, how much you wish you could hold your nieces. 

As you think about it, you begin to cry. You’re not even sure why. It’s after a particularly unbecoming sniffle that Leon shifts his focus to you. You feel very embarrassed, trying in earnest to not let him see you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you say, wiping at your eyes with your wrinkled palms. “Sometimes I get lost in my brain, and it makes me cry,”

He shifts a bit closer to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. His fingers move in circular motions, and you can’t deny how much calmer it makes you feel.

“Talk to me,” he says, almost whispering. You look him in the eye then, and you see the sincerity in his gaze. “I want to listen,”

You sniffle again. “I thought it was easier to be mean to me,”

“I don’t want easy,” he says. You gnaw on your lower lip. “I’m sorry I said that,”

“I don’t want easy, either,” you say. He grins at you then, full and wide, and bright enough to blind you. You wonder if this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. You wonder if he’s finally going to kiss you and get it over with.

“Can I be honest?” he asks. His voice is so soft, so calming, you wonder how you never noticed it before. You nod. “I thought, for a while at least, that if I was just rude enough to you, you would stop following me on missions. I thought that if you couldn’t stand to be around me, you wouldn’t, and you wouldn’t follow me into the jaws of death. Obviously, that didn’t work. That day that you stitched me up? It all hit me. I just…don’t know how to be the man you deserve yet,”

You smile, face warm and light, insides gooey and sticky. “I saw you as a challenge. I would continue to work with you out of spite,”

He rolls his eyes. “I know that now,”

“My turn for honesty,” you say, voice shaking a bit. “I was…in Raccoon City. When everything happened, I mean. I saw it first hand. It’s the reason I am where I am. I was training to be an EMT there, had some friends I’d been staying with. That’s why I get so…weird when I have to do my job. It’s why everything is so hard,”

He nods as he listens. “That must have been hard,” he says. You nod.

“It was devastating,” you say, breathless. “If I was shy before–which I was, mind you–I was a recluse after. It’s why I don’t go out, why I don’t like groups of people, why I have such a hard time being vulnerable,”

“I know what that’s like,” he says. You feel like your heart cracks open, beckoning him inside.

“You make me want to learn how,” you say, trying your hardest not to look away from him. “You make me want to learn how to be vulnerable, how to be open. I’ve told you things even Rebecca doesn’t know about me. I just…struggle with it sometimes,”

He’s silent as he watches you, and you worry that you’ve said the wrong thing. Maybe he just wants to be friends, have an extra shoulder around for when things get to be too much. Maybe you’ve read every situation, every interaction completely wrong. You don’t really know what you’re doing, after all. Maybe your naivety clouded your judgment.

It’s then that he does kiss you. It’s soft and pliant, warming you to your very core. Your hands shift to hold him better, fingers curling around the collar of his sweatshirt to pull him impossibly closer. You melt into him, letting him set little fires across every inch of skin he consumes. You want him to devour you whole. One of his hands finds the back of your head, tilting you ever so slightly to give him better access to you. You give it up without a second thought, a small gasp escaping you as your tongue meets his. In this moment, nothing else exists. The movie playing on the television is drowned out by your bliss, the deafening roar of blood in your ears settles to a beautiful hum. It feels like the crest of a wave splashing back down into the ocean, like a symphony crescendoing. You could die here, wrapped in his warmth and his kisses, and be happy.

When he pulls away, breathless and kiss swollen and reddened, you want to sink back into him. You find it cruel that he would pull away from you, leave you cold where you were so warm before.

“Keep being vulnerable with me,” he says, breath uneven and stuttering. “Please don’t ever stop,”

If he keeps looking at you like this and kissing you, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. You’re more than willing to be whatever he needs, reading to be molded like clay into his desires. You want it. You want him. Your heart flutters at the thought that he wants you too.

[crosby-interesting]

I used to think I don’t about love & infidelity as long as there is money & a desirable lifestyle. Now at 25, seeing the dynamic of the stay at home girlfriend relationships something in my brain switched. At that glitters truly isn’t gold. After a few yrs of being with a rich man, don’t you they realize the riches start to become ordinary? At age 40, will curated instagram posts of ur “relationship goals” & designer goods still distract from the blandness of the relationship in the same way it did in ur 20s-30s? If the relationship is transactional; ur youth & beauty, exchanged for his money & fame, don’t u realize this dynamic does not lean towards ur benefit as a woman? Don’t they realize superficial relationships such as these once ur youth fades his gaze will wander? Selling ur youth to a man who isn’t sure of u is a betrayal to urself. He can divorce at 55, still be rich, create a new family with a 25 yr old version of u while ur now age 55 depending on monthly checks from him, with a few of his kids & a old house he left u. Will u, a woman, start over as easily as he did at age 55 getting a 25 yr old to marry & play step parent ? Good luck with that. Youth for women is what money is for men. The difference is, one is fleeting & majority of wags fail to realize that. The man can find a way to earn more money, the woman, (despite surgeries & creams) can not find a way to earn more youth. This is why it’s crucial to marry a man that is boastful of u, respects, & through his actions has proven commitment. Connor Mcdavid cheated on Lauren Kyle in the peak of her youth, so what’s stopping him from cheating when she’s 50 & he, a man of status & wealth, can still attract 20 yr olds with no effort? They dated 9 YEARS, yet he magically proposes 1 yr after being caught on video cheating? Connor publicly humiliated Lauren & didn’t respect her enough to publicly apologize. Kobe Bryant who had cheating allegations admitted at a press conference to his infidelity & publicly apologized for the shame he brought to his wife. Connor didn’t just have allegations he was on VIDEO cheating, yet didn’t bother to to post even a pathetic generic IG story apologizing in Lauren’s honor,he rather let his fans call Lauren a gold digger & doormat under her IG pictures still to this day. But his sudden urge to propose 1yr after cheating makes it better, right? Coincidently 1 yr after Connor conveniently proposed, his other lap dog Leon Drasaital magically felt the same urge as Connor & proposes after 7 YEARS of dating Celeste Desjardins & oddly 2 weeks before Connor’s wedding. 7 yrs dating a man whose trying to finish school, or work up to financially provide is understandable. But 7 yrs of dating is a lifetime when the man has nothing to worry about besides being paid millions to literally play a game while u wait tending to his home playing house keeper & dog watcher. Did Leon know Celeste was the one? No. But he did know he wants to keep up with the one he prioritizes, captain Mcdavid (who by the way didn’t bother to claim Leon as a best man…) So Lauren with a man who publicly cheated, doesn’t respect respect or protect her, looks as “excited” with her as he does when doing post game media. And Celeste, with a man who kept her as a placeholder for 7 years, until out of pressure finally decided he was ready to commit to marriage despite the fact she’s been committed to centering her world around him, so much that for the past 5 yrs she been publicly online making imaginary wedding Pinterest boards & uploading pictures with him on Pinterest with the tags #couplegoals #wag #Nhlwag #model #hockeyWags and also started following engagement ring accounts and various accounts about “tips advice to getting a man to commit” on IG 3 days after her bestie got engaged. A fairytale manufactured inside of a misogynistic nightmare is the only way to describe these 2 relationships. This is all my meaningless observation of course. Time will tell. Actions will speak for themselves, as they always do. I’ve seen this story before.

-🇲🇽

#WillYouStillLoveMeWhenImNoLongerYoungAndBeautiful #LaurenDesjardins sorry i meant #LaurenKyle and #CelesteDesjardins #LeonMcdavid sorry I meant #LeonDraisaitl and #ConnorMcCheater aka #ConnorMcdavid

That was brilliant! I'm sure many here will unconditionally agree with you! Thank you

The girls from Edmonton still have time to have children and provide for themselves based on this fact. But those who did not receive a ring or a child and lost decades on an unequal union - they are in complete ass