#kennedy u are so real!

[wexhappyxfew]

hey shannon!!!! from prompt list 3 & the action category - “intervene” with kennedy and bucky, but kennedy is the one doing the intervening/defending him????!!! HELP - @softspeirs

KATIEEEE!!!!!! @softspeirs i am *here* i am *back* and we are here with a kennedy x bucky prompt that had me lowkey losing my mind w/this piece half-written months ago and me now just finally having the time to finish it up. the pure EXCITEMENT of this prompt with kennedy and bucky, kennedy's reactions, bucky's reactions and their dialogue....oh i was absolutely losing it. definitely one of my longer ones i think, but it came out just as i was hoping (and probably better). also the scene inspo for this hit me even before your prompt and when you sent this in - oh i was SO EXCITED. so i sincerely hope you enjoy!!! :D

flak-happy

(a/n): kennedy x bucky (pre-stalag, pre-anything-that-happened-in-the-stalag lmao). i fear we enter bucky: the definition of yearning, and kennedy: the definition of miss-repressed-emotions and oh boy does it make for the absolutely perfect combination, especially in a moment of time where things are turning rather dark and dreary and sad. oh kennedy farley you are so seen!!!! please enjoy my-return installment in the silver bullets universe!!! <3333 (he'll make it up to her, he swears)

"5-0," Kennedy said quietly, the tiny bit of newspaper in her hands something she was half-way between scorning, ripping into a million pieces, and lighting on fire, "they're trying to kill me."

"It's a baseball team, Kenny," Margie said from beside her, "the only thing actually trying to kill you are the Germans."

"But I have a helluva lot more emotional involvement to this team than the Krauts, Margie, that's the difference." Kennedy said, flipping the paper over and grumbling under her breath, "Fucking Danny Doyle - at this point, just say he's in left field 24/7, even when he's actually in left field. Can't even hit the goddamn ball."

"Okay," Vivian Ratcliff said quietly from beside Kennedy, plucking the newspaper clipping that Lieutenant Montez had gotten for her this morning from her fingers and neatly folding it up, "you need a drink. A stiff one at that." Kennedy sighed and crossed her arms between the two as they continued walking forward towards the flying club and bit back her lip.

"And I'm going to have to hear all about how the Yankees won their game," Kennedy mumbled, "please say we can open a tab?"

"Or!" Margie butted in, "Better yet, someone will already have a tab started for us." Kennedy glanced at Margie, gaze burning into the side of Vivian's head, who was currently running a hand through her short, dark curls in the hand-held mirror she was carrying with her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kennedy asked her and Margie chuckled.

"Ev Blakely." Margie offered with a grin, "He's always putting his ViVi on his tab."

"Oh, screw off, Margie." murmured Vivian, brushing her bangs that lay wilted against her forehead, back a bit - the entirely noticeable blush that had sprung across the waist gunners cheeks and the smile poking at her lips evidently hard to ignore.

"I am not, and I repeat, not his 'ViVi', he's just a sweet thing, a gentleman," Vivian offered with a shrug of her shoulders, wiping at a smudge of her red lipstick at the corner of her mouth gently, "honestly." Margie chuckled as Kennedy sent her a glance.

"Whatever you say, Viv, but he's a real charmer that Ev Blakely," Margie said, grinning, "especially that you're ViVi to him, hm?" A small smile quirked onto Vivian's lips as she snapped the hand-held mirror shut and slid it into her pocket and offered them a slight smile.

"Shall we head in?" she asked them with a smile and a nod before stepping inside, cheeks still flaming, "It seems like we're all in need of a stiff drink." Kennedy watched as Vivian then stepped inside, nodding and smiling to a few pilots that had stepped passed her. Slowly, Kennedy glanced towards Margie who simply smiled.

"What?" Margie said with a chuckle, "It's clear Blakely's sweet on her."

Heading inside the flying club, the atmosphere was alive with both a gentle, slow song by Ella Fitzgerald, the quiet chatter of voices still about the place and the mixture of smells which combined two of the finest things on Thorpe Abbotts - cologne and alcohol.

"Beer?" Vivian offered glancing back at both Kennedy and Margie stood in the small opening between the bar area and the dance floor.

"Yeah." Kennedy said quietly, following behind Vivian with a sparing glance towards the dance floor where Judy was, more probable, to be forcing Carrie to dance than anything it seemed.

A large group of some of the pilots had gathered in front of the wooden bar, a few backs turned their way, with a few pairs of wandering eyes meeting her own. At the moment, she made rather quick and inherent eye contact with Bucky Egan. Who was staring down Colonel Harding in front of him.

Kennedy glanced at Margie and Vivian, who sent her sparing looks as she stepped closer, curious to both listen in and figure out why the look in Bucky's eyes made her stomach twist.

"Now-now who's flak happy?' Bucky asked, leaned up against the bar, a morose look drawn on to his features, eyes peering into Colonel Harding's persistent and demanding. Kennedy stepped closer, her eyes looking to Colonel Harding's face - it was a mixture of sadness, grief and evidently being somewhat drunk, but it was somewhat a sorry sight.

"Who?" Colonel Harding seemed to challenge.

"You are." Bucky said with a nod, his eyes frozen on the Colonel's gaze. There was something slightly unsettling in that split second of time - this almost far-too-large group surrounding a somewhat bitter conversation. Flak-happy; what a word. Enough to stir thoughts of death in all of them. How much it surrounded them, consumed them. Buck's half-crescent glance towards Bucky was enough for Kennedy to catch Buck's gaze and see the unfurling repent growing.

"You are." the Colonel said firmly back.

"No, you are," Bucky said, before giving a quick tap of the back of his hand on the Colonel's front pocket, "sir."

For a moment, the low drone of the music seemed to dim to a distant hum as they all stood there, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to see the reaction of the Colonel, to someone like Bucky. Notorious for his outbursts at this point, it seemed.

Kennedy watched for a moment longer, before she bit the bullet and stepped forward, directly placing herself in front of Bucky and looking right up at the Colonel, hands placed behind her back, heart pounding in her ears, praying to God above that she didn't look a fool in this moment. Whatever conversation it had been, friendly or foe or whatever other words could've been tossed around - she was having none of it.

This was for Captain Dye, to celebrate 25 missions, for people to relax a bit. Not to think about what tomorrow or the coming days could bring.

Then, the Colonel began to laugh, eyes not fully connected to the bright laughter from his lips, reaching up to place his cigar to his alcohol-laced lips. Kennedy mimicked her best impression of a laugh that she could muster in this moment without feeling in-genuine and watched as the Colonel's eyes brightened a bit.

"Good to see you, Sergeant Farley." he said and she nodded, saluting as well.

"And you, Colonel." she said and he grinned, before turning away and pointing to the guys - 'Single fillies!' he began to yell and point, people clambering and murmuring amongst one another as the rather large group began to slowly disperse.

She watched, predictable as it was, Blakely saunter up to Viv and Margie seemed to drop to her knees immediately at the sight of a tail-wagging Meatball.

In the midst of this all, Kennedy seemed to only just remember now that she had stepped between the Colonel and Bucky in this very moment and that very same Bucky Egan was now stood just behind her.

And if anything, she knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face and would poke fun at her little heroic moment of relief. She really didn't know what had compelled her to do such a thing - to step in between people that had far higher ranking than she probably ever would. But there was something on his face, that look in his eyes. Like he was distant, in a completely different time zone and realm than where he actually was.

And she couldn't remember a time when Bucky had ever looked like that.

Kennedy found that she was bracing herself as she turned around, but by that moment, as she was turning, Bucky was already watching her. It looked like a mixture between an attempt to smile on his face, and the struggle of an onboarding cold front. And her heart sunk a bit.

Maybe she was a bit stupid for that.

They barely knew each other past their Yankees and Red Sox feud and those few times they'd had conversations together - about what, she wasn't sure - she had spent the greater part of the time noticing every bit about how his eyes lit when he laughed, the crinkle of his grin, the pure sound of his voice.

For what reason she was stockpiling those images and feelings in her brain, she'd never know.

But, standing here now, it felt completely different.

Bucky was different.

"Hi, Farley." he said, voice more exhausted sounding than intended it seemed.

"Hi." she said back, noticing their closeness to each other and the eager smell of his cologne, taking the opportunity to step back.

Then she stared at him - she had no clue what to say.

For the first time in months, she didn't have a clue what to say to him - to explain whatever that had been, to try and chalk it up.

Yeah, she had no clue.

"You alright?" she said him, before scratching the back of her neck.

"Doing the best I can, yourself?" He was bored of this conversation already, he was done with it - say something, say something. But when she took the chance to actually go to open her mouth, she noticed his eyes were far-off, looking past her shoulder.

Slowly, she took a glance and noticed all he was staring at were the people - the couples, the duos - dancing with each other. Kennedy looked back towards Bucky again and found his eyes trained on her again.

"You dance at all, Farley?" he asked her, leaning back up against the bar, the broad stretch of his shoulders enough to fill her entire birds-eye view, enough to make her cheeks tint to annoying pink.

"I regret to inform you that it is quite possibly the last thing you want me to do."

"Really?" Bucky asked with a wry chuckle, smirking at her, "Well, isn't this new. Thought Kennedy Farley was good at damn-near everything." Kennedy looked at him an tilted her head.

"Well, I don't know whether to take that as an insult or compliment, but I'm afraid that growing up my mother put me in ballet and in turned into a complete mess of me on stage - so no, I don't." she said, crossing her arms, suddenly wanting to get herself out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

"I'm intrigued," Bucky said, tilting his head slightly and nodding to her, "tell me more. Ballet, huh?"

"It was like a chicken on a balance beam, alright? I'm sure you could've done better than me-" Bucky chuckled at her mid-sentence.

"Were you really that bad?" he asked her, "I don't believe you."

"Wouldn't be the first time." she murmured and he raised a brow, "This typically would be the time where I ask the same question back, but I've seen you dance and well….clearly know you dance so…." Bucky let out a barking laugh and hung his head for a moment before looking back up at her.

"Well, Kennedy Farley, dancing is a whole lot more than just some stupid ballet classes your Mom put you in when you were a kid, alright?" he said, pushing off from the bar counter and stepping forward. Kennedy look up at him as he stepped closer and equally stepped back.

"What are you doing?" she asked him as he stepped in front of her, managing a small smile.

"Dancing." he said, "With you."

"You can't be serious-"

"Oh, I'm serious!" he said, reaching forward to take her right hand in his, adjusting his other hand to her waist. It was honestly a mixture of feelings, intoxication and his cologne that suddenly made her feel slightly insane.

"Bucky-"

"Nah, nah, you're fine, look at you," he said as they slowly started to sway back and forth, "you're a natural." Kennedy looked up at him, feeling every inch of her hand pressed into his, his other hand on her waist.

"Well, if we're doing this, then you oughta tell me what Colonel Harding was talking about when I came up to you all." she said, watching as his eyes darted to hers and his grip tightened.

"Maybe another time." he said tilting his head to the side, to which she raised a brow.

"Oh, no, no, no, I saw that look on your face-"

"Farley-"

"Major Egan." she said, pausing and looking up at him expectantly. It seemed to work. Bucky watched her, his grip tight on her hand and pouted his lips a bit.

"The war. In the air." Bucky said quietly, tilting his head to the side, "Guess you can say it's making people go crazy."

"Quite the observation." Kennedy murmured and Bucky let out a huff, "Well, why was he addressing you. I mean….sorta front and center there-"

"He thinks it's starting to get to me." Bucky said quickly, pausing as she peered up at him again, watching his eyes under the dimmed yellow lights of the flying club.

Kennedy felt her heart stammer for a moment as she looked up at Bucky - there was still that distant look in his eye, but something else that craved and yearned for touch and connection and possibly something else she couldn't quite decipher. She believed that was all anyone in this war wanted - when the battle was done, when the flight crews were back at base, sweat and grease-stained faces, eyes hazy and glazed. All people wanted was someone else to get it, to understand them and hold them and tell them that maybe things were going to be okay.

But, with Bucky, with their separation of rank and about a million other things, she quite honestly, was at a loss for words.

"You?" she instead asked quietly. Bucky watched her, face unchanged.

"Yeah." he said quietly, almost ashamed, "A trip to London would probably do me some good, don't you think?" Kennedy watched him - he wanted this. He agreed with the Colonel. Bucky wanted this.

"If that's what you want-"

"I think the Colonel was really onto something, Farley." Bucky said, stopping her mid-sentence, "Doing those missions. Over and over. I feel like I'm going crazy." Kennedy felt like she couldn't even hear the music anymore, she didn't even realize how close they were into each other's hands and arms, she didn't even realize the tick of desperation in Bucky's voice. Like he was alone in the dark, trying to grasp onto something.

"Bucky." Kennedy said quietly, watching as he sighed and shook his head, dropping her hand, removing his, rather warm, hand from her waist and stepping back.

"Sorry." Bucky said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before turning back to the bar and finishing what was left of his drink, before looking at her again, "I shouldn't have said a damn thing. Freak you out when you're trying to relax. I'll…" Bucky watched her and sighed, before stepping around her, "I'll see you around."

Kennedy stood there, the flash of his body disappearing from in front of her, the hint of sweat, beer and cologne trailing as she turned to look over her shoulder and found him moving right out of the room.

Kennedy's heart was in her throat - a mixture of feelings of not knowing what Bucky would do next, especially being alone and if this was making her suddenly want to do anything she could to help him.

So, she did the only thing a Farley would do. She hurried after him. She kept her eye on his form as he hurried out and into the cool night air.

Stepping outside she looked over and found him stood at the edge of the road, against the lick of grass that spread between the barracks and looked towards the dark airfield.

"You know, it really isn't the nicest thing to leave a girl hanging on the dance floor," Kennedy started, walking towards him, a slight smile on her face, "especially if she just told you how much she really didn't like dancing." She tried to joke about it, but she just watched Bucky's shoulders drop the slightest bit instead as he ran his hand again over his hair to hang on his neck.

"Sorry, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "I just, I don't want to rope you into this, right now." Bucky said, motioning to himself. Kennedy raised a brow.

"Rope into what, Bucky, I'm right here." Kennedy said watching his back and crossing her arms, "Quite frankly, you just told me you think you're going crazy from it all and downed the rest of your drink. And probably are slightly buzzed. So. I will rope myself into this." Kennedy eyed the few newer airmen walking by them. "Sir." Bucky glanced over his shoulder at her and she simply stared back.

If he wanted her to be scared of this side of him, it would have to take a whole lot more for her to disappear, for her to run.

This Bucky she almost liked. Where he wasn't putting up the facade, the mask, the strong-front that showed he was fine.

Because no one was fine when their job was trying to just beat the odds and survive.

"Farley-"

"Bucky." she said and she watched as he stared at her. He grew quiet.

Slowly, she stepped closer and moved to stand there beside him. Glancing upwards, she found him, looking far off again towards the darkened tarmacs with B-17s.

There was something about standing there in damn-near total silence with him. It was so unlike any other version of the Bucky Egan she'd met, but in this moment, she hoped that this was exactly what he needed.

Someone to be there, but to stand in this silence with him.

Away from the music and the drinks and the B-17s and the bullets.

Away from it all.

All to simply realize he was alive, and on the ground and standing on his own two feet.

"To get in one of those planes again," Bucky started quietly, "I can't….it's hard. To do that. Again and again." Kennedy looked up at him, her face drawn into one of concern and worry.

"I know." she said quietly, watching his eyes as he glanced at her, "It scares me. Every time without fail. After what had happened with Birdie and then Margie those few months ago. The thought? Jesus, I didn't want to have to leave solid ground." Bucky watched her for a moment.

"You don't give off the impression that you're scared, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "always thought you were one of the strongest we got." Kennedy managed a genuine smile up at him.

"Thanks, Bucky." she said - genuinely - she figured people didn't see that often, so she could appreciate when someone like Bucky told her that. He managed a slight smile at her words.

"Would you go to London?" he asked her and she felt her face change into one of slight surprise and near-joking. She offered him a look, one where she almost burst out laughing.

"Me?" she asked him and he nodded, "No, no….probably not." She looked at him again and almost nervously laughed.

"Silver Bullets needs me. And for the moment, despite everything, I'd rather let that trip go to someone else, who needs it more." Like you, she thought quietly. She looked at him and found his face saddened a bit and offered a shoulder bump.

"Go to London. Take the trip." she said softly, "Take some time to relax." Bucky looked at her, his eyes aching to watch hers it felt as she stared at him.

In another world, she would've said she'd loved to go to London - she always heard about London as a kid; Buckingham Palace, the guards in their uniforms, the city streets, all of it. But for now, she didn't need it. She was fine.

"Well….I only asked because…" Bucky cleared his throat, "Buck sorta denied my offer and I figured, well, since you and just about everyone else also need a break, figured I'd offer to come. With me." Kennedy looked up at him, her cheeks flamed in the darkness and she hoped the fact the moon was covered by clouds, covered her obvious shyness.

"Oh." Kennedy said quietly, her eyes wanting to leave Bucky's but whole-heartedly refusing. In her mind, she told herself that he could tell something was most definitely wrong with her, with her blubbering and lack of words and shock and nervousness. But instead he offered a slight smile her way.

"I mean," she started, a small laugh escaping her lips, "you're….you're a Major, Bucky, and I'm just, I'm a Sergeant. And we're from different planes. And it'd be…I don't know, people, they'd say stuff-"

"Farley," Bucky said, "we're…..friends, ya know, it'd just be us two. As….friends." And even she wasn't convinced of his words in that moment and suddenly she felt hot all over and the thoughts in her mind were enough to force her to look away from Bucky in an instant. She looked forward again over the field of B-17s in the darkness and swallowed her shaky breaths.

"Farley, I…" Bucky started, before clearing his throat, "I just…I think I'm drunk. Just, ignore me-"

"Okay." Kennedy said quickly, looking over at him and nervously meeting his gaze with a nod, swallowing sheepishly as she looked up again to his eyes, "I-"

She really couldn't get herself to speak properly at the thought. Of Bucky. Her head felt light, her cheeks hot, her body hot, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

He was drunk, she told herself, he was drunk and wouldn't remember this and she could go back to being brazen and bold and stubborn with him.

Not this mushy, genuine and sweet part of herself that she rarely showed a soul.

Looking at Bucky, suddenly her mind went into a frenzy at the thought of the two of them, in a room together, in London - how awkward it would be!

She'd take the bed closest to the window, he'd take the one closest to the door and she'd have to hear his every breath as he fell asleep and his snores through the night.

And she'd have to wake up and he'd see her exhausted and barely awake and exceptionally grumpy.

And then he'd say something about how she reminds him of the pigeons on the streets in the city and she'd launch her shoe at him.

And then she'd feel embarrassed having to get ready and knowing he's right in the other room.

And - no, it was too much. Because what if they just happened to ignore it all and she allowed herself to feel these feelings that made her feel sick to her stomach - no. She looked away from him and suddenly wanted to be alone.

No, let him go to London - get the drinks, get the girls, and she'll keep her mouth shut.

Because he was right - they were just two people, barely even friends, who happened to know each other and have strong opinions about baseball. No, she wasn't going to say a thing.

"I'll make it up to you then someday, Farley - the dancing," Bucky said before patting her shoulder gently and letting out a low whistle, "I'm off to barracks. Figured I need to shut up before I keep letting my mouth yap, ya know?" Kennedy slowly looked over at him, sticking his hands in his pockets and giving her a wide smile - one between a forced and slightly buzzed grin and a genuine one.

"I'll let you know how London is, okay?" he said and she nodded, tying herself directly to where she was standing so she wouldn't convince herself to follow him again.

"Okay." she said and he smiled wider and then mock-saluted to her before turning away.

"I'll be seeing you, Farley." he said and as he staggered down the path, her own heart thumping inside her chest she shut her eyes and let out a breath before crossing her arms tighter across her chest.

She couldn't have said anything better? Come up with better words? A better send-off and good-bye? Should she have taken the offer?

No, no, no, no. Nope.

And with that, Kennedy turned and moved right back into the flying club and ordered as strong a drink she could get at this time of night.

[ab-horror]

hmmm what if i start kennedy posting on here

[slasheru]

i know it's like picking a favourite child

but by any chance do you have one particular favourite character from the dateables?

oh nooooooo this is hard as hell haha

I have an extra extra extra soft spot for Tate because we're very alike, and he IS a sweet perfect angel baby, but I thiiiiiiiiiiiiink (don't tell the others) I would personally date Hex the most because he's a big happy beefcake softie and so good and sweet and kind and I love him and I want to pet him and have him on a little leash and tell him he's a good boy forever

ahem

[jellyfishjuliet]

i’ve read action comics three times back to back since Tuesday and im still processing it 💀

[plutotheplum]

Blurred Lines

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you’ve decided to get intimate for the first time with your boyfriend, and who better to ask for advice than his best friend?

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, kissing, oral sex, vaginal fingering, masturbation, p in v, possessive sex, praise kink, cheating/infidelity

wc: 4.4k

a/n: i don't support cheating at all, this idea just would not leave me so erm... i just had to write it

also on ao3!

You might be a little in over your head.

Sure, the entire thing had been your idea, but now that you’re standing outside of Leon’s apartment, duffle bag clutched in hand, you think you might’ve made the wrong decision.

But… you did really like your boyfriend.

It was why you were doing all of this after all. You wanted the first time with your new boyfriend to be perfect, especially after your last relationship had practically turned out to be a disaster. The sex hadn’t been enjoyable and the heated conversations between you and your ex even more so.

So, who better to ask for advice than your boyfriend’s best friend?

Eyes squeezing shut, you mutter a few words of self-encouragement. The doorbell looks oddly ominous when you open your eyes again. 

You weren’t even sure why Leon had agreed to this entire thing. He’d always just been there, barely acknowledging your presence at all. All in all, you were convinced Leon hated you. It didn’t matter though, you didn’t particularly like the man either. Leon was just an unfortunate addition to things you had to endure. 

An irritated huff of air leaves you and your hand jerks out, your own body having grown tired of your indecisiveness. The doorbell rings promptly and you shift on your feet, biting your lip nervously.

When the door creaks open, you have half the mind to run away. Leon’s gaze keeps you pinned in place however, his bored eyes dipping over you, brows raising slightly when he sees the duffle bag you were holding. 

“You were serious about this, huh?” Leon asks, crossing his arms over his chest, peering down at you.

“Uh- well,” you begin, tongue feeling heavy, “I- I can just leave,” you laugh awkwardly, “you’re probably busy and I don’t want to bother you and-”

“Stop rambling,” he interrupts, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, “just get inside.”

You’re grateful for his timely intervention, nodding rapidly and stepping inside. Taking off your shoes, you place them by the door neatly, not wanting to annoy Leon even more. He motions with his fingers and you follow him in, letting him guide you into his bedroom.

“What’s the bag for?”

“Oh, I packed a couple of outfits,” you shrug, watching as he sits down on his chair, “thought you might be able to tell me which one would work the best.”

Leon stares at you blankly, his lips pursing. 

“You’re fucking weird.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, your eyes narrowing as you glare at the man in front of you. “You agreed to help me!”

“I didn’t think you were being serious,” Leon retorts. 

You glare at him a little more and he lets out an exasperated sigh, motioning for you to sit down on the edge of his bed. You do as he says, although your movements are begrudging, feeling miffed.

“So?” He asks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “what do you want to know?”

“Se- sex stuff,” you reply casually, although your posture betrays you. It’s difficult to feel comfortable around Leon, his gaze uncomfortably intense and probing. You don’t think you’ve ever sat with your back this straight for so long before. 

“Watching porn would’ve solved that problem for you,” Leon says drily. 

“You’re a real asshole, Leon.”

He rolls his eyes at your jab, slouching a little further in his chair, thighs spreading as he gets comfortable. Leon’s fingers tap against the arm-rest, seemingly lost in thought. You couldn’t feel anymore awkward, agitatedly playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Can’t you just tell me what he likes?” you blurt out, growing desperate, “you guys talk about that stuff, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Leon says, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Just do what feels natural. Sex isn’t supposed to be something you spend weeks worrying about.”

It’s surprisingly solid advice…but Leon could’ve told you all of this over text. You cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly.

“But what if he doesn’t like it?” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Then he’ll tell you,” he says, hands clasping together. Leon gives you another once-over, tilting his head. “Go get changed, let’s see those outfits.”

You nod, tugging your bag into his bathroom and pull on your first outfit. It’s a pretty dress, flowy and a little short, but you’d figured it’d be a good pick.

“What do you think?”

Leon’s eyes flick up to meet yours, silently evaluating the dress. His brows furrow for a moment, something imperceptible passing through his eyes before he shakes his head. A sigh escapes you, but you disappear back into his bathroom obediently to pull on your next outfit.

Leon doesn’t like that one. He doesn’t like the one after either. Your patience is running thin by the time you’ve changed into your fourth outfit, a nice top and skirt. You tuck your hair behind your ears, staring at yourself in the mirror. You look cute, at least from your perspective. You don’t understand what he finds so unappealing about your sense of style. Leon’s eyes barely drift over you before he’s shaking his head again. 

“Pass,” Leon drawls, looking bored out of his mind as he slouches in his chair. Irritation festers inside of you, teeth gritting together as Leon simply ignores you, scrolling through his phone.

“This is cute!” you protest, looking down at the outfit you put together, “I look cute!”

“If that makes you feel better, then keep telling yourself that,” he replies, not sparing you a second glance. 

“You’re the worst!” you snap, stomping back into the bathroom.

Your temper gets the best of you when you scrutinize your irritated reflection, cheeks flushed with anger, the stress of being here with Leon bubbling past your own breaking point. You tug your top off, along with your bra, bathroom door slamming open as you move to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“How about now, asshole?”

Leon’s eyes widen when he sees your bare chest, surprise making his grip on his phone falter, the device falling towards the carpeted floor as he stares at your tits. His jaw seems to go slack, a sharp breath of air getting sucked in as he stares for a bit longer. You glare at him, chest rising and falling, watching as his gaze dips over the curve of your waist. 

“They’re just tits,” he says nonchalantly.

Leon’s expressions betray his true emotions, however. You catch the bob of his throat as he swallows, the subtle clench of his jaw as he stares at your tits. Your eyes dip down between his thighs and a small smile spreads across your face when you spot the bulge forming in his shorts.

“Do you like ‘em?” you ask, tilting your head.

“What?” Leon sputters, his cheeks flushing lightly.

“Do you like ‘em?” you repeat, taking a step closer, “my tits, Leon.”

He swallows again, trying and failing to look away from your tits. “They’re fine,” he manages out after a moment, “normal, or whatever.”

That makes a frown pull at your lips. Your head tips down, taking in your own breasts. They weren’t anything special, but you thought they looked nice, at least. Embarrassment has your skin crawling, cheeks heating up when you realize how stupidly you’ve been acting. 

You move to turn on your heel, but Leon stops you, his hand curling around your wrist. He tugs you forward, your feet stumbling slightly as he pulls you until you're standing between his spread legs.

“Maybe I should feel them,” Leon offers, peering up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “might- might help me judge a bit better.”

Surprise flits across your face, heat shooting through your body. You really shouldn’t let him do this, you shouldn’t even have your tits out in the first place but when Leon’s hand lands on your waist, all rational thought seems to leave you.

“Okay,” you whisper, “you can touch.”

Both of Leon’s hands are on your waist now, sliding upwards. You bite your lip to stifle a whine, back arching to push your chest into his touch when his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts.

Leon lets out a low hum, stroking his thumb over the same place again, staring intently at your hardened nipples. His fingers reach for them, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger as he tugs lightly before letting go, watching as your breasts move at the sensation.

“Gonna let me taste ‘em too?,” he asks, pinching your nipples again before rubbing his thumbs over your areolas. 

“T- taste?” you echo, feeling your breath catch in your throat when Leon leans forward, his touch growing greedier as he grasps at your tits, squeezing the fat roughly. Your legs shake slightly, little twitches running up through your body and Leon notices, pulling you closer, his hands on the backs of your thighs as he helps you climb up onto his lap.

You can feel how hard he is when your cunt presses up against his clothed cock, a low whine slipping out of you at the feeling. Leon grins, squeezing your breasts a few more times, seemingly taken with tugging your nipples and watching your breasts bounce back into place. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “just let me put my mouth on you, hm?”

A single nod leaves you and Leon takes it as permission to kiss the space between your breasts. He’s surprisingly gentle with you, peppering soft kisses around your breast and over your nipples. Leon’s tongue lolls out before long, a groan emanating from him as he pulls you flush against him, his hips bucking up into your clothed cunt.

You gasp, fingers settling in his hair, pulling his head closer. Leon’s mouth opens wider, sucking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking across your nipple harshly as he silently urges your hips to move against him. You do as he wants, grinding against his lap, mewling when he sinks his teeth into the fat of your tit. He switches his attention to your other tit, sucking it into his mouth, pressing his hand into your back to make your chest jut out so that he can get more of you into his mouth.

“Do oh- do you like my tits now, Leon?” you ask breathily.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, yeah,” he mumbles out drunkenly, “love your tits, baby.”

A light flush covers your cheeks when Leon pulls away, both of your chests rising and falling. He stares up at you, perched on his lap prettily, his hands squeezing at your waist soothingly. Your hazy eyes dip down to his lips, fingers tightening into his shirt as you imagine his lips on yours.

That would make everything all the more real however, so you refrain, simply peering down at him. Leon can see the uncertainty that makes you squirm, the flash of guilt that seems to dim down the spark in your eyes. He doesn’t exactly like the situation either, what the two of you are doing, but when your lower lip juts out into a cute, little pout, Leon wonders what might’ve been if he’d gotten to you first. 

“We should stop,” he says after a while, fingers tapping the sides of your thighs. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, humiliation flitting across your face, “we should.”

Leon helps you get off his lap, smoothing his hand over the ruffles in your skirt. It’s a weirdly considerate action and too out of place for him. You disappear into the bathroom, pulling your top back on. Leon waits for you, his eyes dipping to the bulge in his shorts. It’s uncomfortable, his half-hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

A heavy sigh leaves him, his hand reaching down to adjust himself before you come out. 

“Thank you for letting me come over,” you mumble as he walks you over to his door.

“Don’t mention it,” Leon murmurs, his voice low.

Don’t mention it. You know deep down you won’t be mentioning anything to your boyfriend. 

You go to open the door, but before you can, Leon’s stepping up behind you, his chest pressing into your back as he cages you in against the door. A soft whine spills out of you when he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing into the crook of your neck.

“You’re making things difficult,” he says, voice muffled with how closely he’s pressed his face into your neck.

“I- I’m leaving,” you retort weakly, managing to get your hand on the doorknob. 

He hums, pressing one of his hands against the door, keeping it shut.

“Leon,” you sigh exasperatedly, “we can’t. You’re the one who said we should stop.”

“If I hadn’t said that, would you have stayed?”

The question hangs in the air. Your silence is answer enough. Leon’s mouth on your tits had been more than enough to convince you to stay, the memory of his clothed cock pressed up against your panties making you bite back another whine. His hand has begun to slide to your leg, smoothing up over your skin and under your skirt.

“Tell me,” Leon coaxes, his fingers grazing your panties, “would you have stayed?”

A strangled gasp is your response as he presses the pads of his fingers up against your panties. Leon lets out a low laugh, landing a soft kiss to your neck, his fingers rubbing at your cunt through the fabric of your panties.

Your head tips forward, forehead pressing against the door and mouth opening in a silent moan when Leon rubs faster. He trails kisses down your neck before nuzzling into the crook of it, pressing you against the door harder to grind his cock into your ass.

“C’mon, baby,” he urges again, “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I- I hate you,” you grit out but you rock your hips across his hand anyways, wanting more friction against your pussy.

Leon clicks his tongue, drawing his fingers away.

“Ngh- nooo,” you whine, trying to get his hand back to where you want him to touch you, “Leon!”

It’s too late though, Leon’s already unlatched himself, taking a few steps back to put some space between you two. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts, pursing his lips as he stares down at you.

“You’re a piece of shit, Leon.”

“You know, that makes me less inclined to want to touch you.”

“Fine,” you say, throwing your hands up, “I’ll just do it myself.”

“W- what?” Leon blurts out, gaze fixated on the sway of your hips as you push past him. He watches as you settle down onto his couch, your head tipping back as your hand disappears under your skirt and slips past the band of your panties.

A soft sigh escapes you when you touch yourself, eyes fluttering shut. You’re wet thanks to Leon, body squirming as your fingers circle your swollen clit to find some relief. 

“Fuck,” Leon hisses, watching as you masturbate on his couch without a care in the world. His cock throbs painfully and he’s dropping to knees before he can stop himself, hands grabbing at your legs.

“No,” you glare at him when he tries to pull your panties down, swatting his hand away.

“Please?” he pleads, eyes darkened with lust, “baby, please? I- I just wanna see.”

“‘m not your baby,” you grouse, trying to shove his face away as your fingers slide through your slick folds.

“You could’ve been,” Leon mutters.

He looks a little bitter and you raise your brows in question. “You hate me.”

“No I don’t,” he replies, nuzzling into your knee, lips pressing against your skin in a gentle kiss, “I want you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you murmur, rolling your eyes when he manages to capture your wrist in his hand, stopping you from pushing him away. A soft gasp escapes you when he curls his arms over your thighs, spreading you open for him.

“Been wanting to fuck you ever since he brought you ‘round,” Leon whispers, peppering kisses to your inner thighs, “you’re so pretty.”

You mewl, hips bucking as he pulls your panties down your legs. Leon’s eyes darken as your fingers move, spreading apart the folds of your pussy so he can get a good look.

“Fuck,” he groans, “pussy’s so fucking wet, baby.”

Your fingers run through his soft hair, pulling his head closer. Leon goes more than willingly, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up your pussy. He lets out a guttural moan, arms tightening around your thighs, hands disappearing up your top to squeeze at your tits as he all but shoves his face into your cunt.

“You- oh- you should apologize, Leon,” you whisper, pushing his head away when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth. “You didn’t like any of my outfits and you were mean.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, trying to nuzzle back into your pussy.

You nod, and he groans, half-lidded eyes never straying from your leaking cunt. 

“‘m sorry,” he breathes out, inching closer and managing to land a soft kiss to your aching clit, “‘m sorry, okay? I was an asshole and fuck-” Leon shudders, nudging past your hand to kiss your clit again as his eyes meet yours, “I didn’t him to want to see you like that, all pretty and dolled up.”

There’s a strange fluttering sensation in your chest, heart skipping a beat at his confession. You stare down at him, letting him kiss your clit one more time before you rub your fingers through your folds, pressing your slick fingers against his mouth. Leon moans, mouth opening, sucking your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them.

“Don’t stop,” you mumble when Leon licks your pussy again.

He hums, squeezing at your tits, fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples as he eats you out. Soft mewls spill from your mouth, hips rocking to meet his mouth, back arching to press more of yourself against him.

You jerk in his grasp, an involuntary twitch running through your body when he strokes the pad of his thumb over your clit gently, his tongue burying itself inside of you. 

“Leon,” you whine, tugging at his hair while your head tips back, “‘m close.”

He doubles his efforts when you say that, pinching your nipples roughly as he slurps and sucks at the wetness of your pussy. The sounds are lewd, the soft smack of his lips around your slick folds and aching cunt making you flush.

“Taking my fingers so good,” he whispers, pushing two of his fingers inside of your cunt and cooking them so that they brush against your sensitive spot.

You fist his hair tighter, moans growing louder as he fucks his fingers in and out of you, his mouth latching onto your clit, tongue flicking and stroking across the swollen bud before sucking hard.

“Ah!” you squeak out, shoving his face further into your cunt, thighs trapping his face and squeezing tight as you cum, body shuddering and toes digging into his back, “Leon!”

Leon groans into your cunt, taking your orgasm eagerly, sucking and licking at your wetness, drinking it down. He huffs a breath when you try to push his head away, moving your hand away to lick over your pussy despite your twitching thighs and the painful grip you have on his hair.

He pulls away finally with a kiss to your clit, grinning up at you, his eyes hazy with lust. The lower half of his face is wet and Leon licks his lips before leaning towards you, his nose nudging against yours.

“Kiss me, sweetheart.”

You whine, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He stares up at you, lips parted and you lower your head, hesitation and guilt forgotten as you press your lips against his. Leon lets out a contented sigh, his arms wrapping around your waist, lips moving against yours eagerly.

He gets off of his knees and crawls on top of you instead, hips slotting between your thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist, kissing him languidly and gasping into his mouth when he grinds his clothed cock against your bare cunt.

“Want it?” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck, “want my cock, baby?”

“We- we shouldn’t,” you whisper weakly, watching as he sits back to pull his shirt up over his head.

You gulp nervously when you see his bare upper half, cunt clenching at the sight of his muscled abdomen and thick biceps. Leon ignores you, his lips slotting over yours again, hand caressing your waist soothingly.

A sigh leaves you, hands smoothing over his shoulders to pull him closer. He stares down at you, panting softly, his face pressing into the crook of your neck.

“You’re right,” he murmurs.

Neither of you make any moves to detach from each other however, Leon’s hand stroking over your hair as he grunts and rocks his hips against your cunt again.

“Just- shit- just the tip,” Leon offers, groaning when he feels your hands on his chest, “just the tip, baby.”

You whimper into his mouth when he kisses you again, fingers creeping down to pull at his shorts impatiently. 

“D- doesn’t count if it’s just the tip,” you agree breathlessly, hand wrapping around his fat cock.

“Yeah,” Leon says, his voice shaky, “yeah, doesn’t hah- doesn’t count if it's just the tip.”

Leon mutters out a curse when your thumb swipes over the sensitive head of his cock, kissing you roughly as he grasps his cock, pumping it a few times. You watch, flushed and eager as he presses his cock against your folds, rubbing it against you.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he snarls, moving his cock and slapping it the tip of it against your swollen clit, smearing pre-cum across your folds. “‘m gonna make you forget about him,” Leon slurs, “gonna make you mine, sweetheart.”

He presses the tip of his cock into you and you whine, clawing at his biceps, feeling the initial stretch of his cock. Leon grunts, his face pressing back into the crook of you neck, fucking you shallowly.

“Bet my entire cock would feel good,” he mumbles, kissing your neck, “wouldn’t that be nice, baby? My fat cock filling you up?”

“But- but we can’t,” you babble, gasping when he pushes his cock in a little more, “Leon- oh fuck-”

Your words die on your tongue when Leon drives his hips into you, cock filling you up completely. A strangled moan leaves you, head tipping back as you cry out, Leon groaning as he pounds his hips into you.

“Take it, sweetheart,” he grunts, hand smoothing over your hair as he kisses your cheek messily, “doing so good, made to take my cock, my sweet girl.”

The praise is making your eyes roll to the back of your head, legs tightening around his hips as your nails claw down his back.

“Kiss,” you whine, lips parting for Leon, “kiss me.”

Leon lets out a low growl, his lips crashing onto yours, cock dragging in and out of your clenching walls rapidly. The sounds of your skin clapping together fills his apartment, but you’re too cockdrunk, too utterly gone to have any care in the world. All you can think about is his weight on top of your body, his lips dragging across your skin, his cock pounding into you.

“Squeezing me so tight,” Leon moans, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You nod rapidly, cunt clenching around him as the coil of pleasure in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

“Leon!” you wail, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, body twitching.

“Cum,” he grunts, squeezing your hips tightly, “c’mon baby, cum on my cock. Be a good girl and cream my fucking cock.”

His lips slot over yours and you whimper, kissing him back needily as you shake in his grasp, orgasm racking through you as you cum. 

“Fuck-” Leon whispers, feeling the clench of your cunt around his cock, “baby, baby, baby.”

His hips stutter, his head falling between your breasts, soft pants filling the air as he cums. Leon’s hot cum floods your pussy, another whimper escaping you as you feel his cock twitch. 

You both lay there, chests heaving.

“I hate you,” you whisper, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Yeah,” Leon rasps, “I know.”

He kisses you anyways. 

-

Your boyfriend’s been promoted.

It’s how you find yourself here, latched onto his arm as he talks with his colleagues with a tight smile on your face. Unfortunately for you, Leon happens to work at the same place which is why you spend most of your time trying to avoid him.

You’d tried to get out of attending the anniversary dinner, too ashamed and sick to your stomach, but your boyfriend had pleaded with you, which had only made you feel guiltier.

You can’t escape Leon’s gaze either. His eyes bore into you no matter where you go in the spacious venue and it gets to the point where you’re telling your boyfriend that you need to get some fresh air. There’s a fire escape and you take your chance, pushing past the heavy door to suck in a deep breath of the cool night air. The expanse of the city lies out before you, buildings lit up and roads bustling with traffic. You rub your aching temples, eyes squeezing shut. 

Unfortunately, you don’t get to cool down for long, not when Leon’s joining you. He looks as handsome as ever, especially in a suit, his hair combed back neatly.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Go fuck yourself, Leon,” you hiss out, pointing your finger at him accusingly.

A lazy grins spreads across his face, his arm curling around your waist to pull you flush against him. Your hands land against his chest, breath hitching when he lowers his head, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

“Fuck me yourself, hm?”

You end up bent over the railing with Leon’s fat cock stuffed inside of you. He grips your hips roughly, groans as you cry out into the night, peppers kisses over your shoulder and shoves his fingers into your mouth while he whispers sweet nothings to you. 

“You’re my girl.”

[pervertwhore]

Saw you were taking requests and decided to drop on in! I’ve been really trying to push the “Leon loves goths” agenda and just wanted to see if you had an ideas for cute rookie!Leon having the hots for a goth. You can make it as sfw or nsfw as you want. I just can’t stop thinking about smothering him in black lipstick kiss marks ahh.

ROOKIE! LEON KENNEDY & GOTH CHICK

∿ warn . nsfw under cut, riding, tit sucking, leon calls you mommy!

this is a drabble! so the quality isn’t very good :(( vaguely proof read too so WAAA BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY! 3k words :33 when i tell you i CHEERED when i saw this in my inbox, i’m being so fr! i’m a proud goth so seeing the goth chick agenda being spread.. UGH! the dream don’t play. goth girl x leon is so real.. WRITING RULES | PINNED

when leon first saw you, he couldn’t look away. he really did try to tear away his gaze from you, but he physically couldn’t help but ogle at your outfit and overall disposition. he’s never seen someone with that sense of style you had outside of media — he vaguely knows what goths are, he’s seen goths displayed in movies and shows, like nancy downs in the craft, or late at night when mtv played the cure.

it was surprising to see you in raccoon city, with clothing that made it seem like you had just stepped out of a funeral and heavy eyeliner that made you resemble the dead.

in a midwestern small town, you don’t often see people with alternative fashion, and seeing you in full gothic attire was like finding a needle in a haystack.

it was almost funny how mundane setting was, leon had just stepped inside the local coffee shop near the police station to grab some coffee before his shift, and here you were, tucked away in the corner of the shop idly reading a book. he would’ve expected to see you at the local hot topic or the morgue, but no, you were just.. reading.

your nose was stuck inside a stephen king novel, carrie, leon thinks — he couldn’t make out the cover words as he stood by the cashier counter.

you were listening to music too, leon saw the cassette resting on the table and the headphones that covered your ears, he wondered what were you listening to. the cure? honestly, that’s the only gothic band he knows, he mainly focuses on listening to grunge, maybe the NSYNC when he needs a change of pace. would you hate that? frown down at him because he likes the occasional boy band? he hopes not.

leon was snapped out of his thoughts when the barista called out to him, “sir, can i help you?” she asked sweetly, tensing in surprise, leon looked back at the woman and cleared his throat. “oh, uh, yeah!” he said quickly.

after giving the barista his order, he paused, glancing back at you. you still read, blissfully unaware of his glances, “hey, does she come here often?” leon whispered as he turned to face the barista, subtly gesturing over to you. the barista raised her eyebrow as she looked over leon’s shoulders to you. “occasionally, but only at night.. some of my workers are convinced she’s like a vampire or something.” the woman laughed, mocking you as she looked back at leon. “what? is she scaring you, officer?” she teased, a small grin coming up to her lips.

leon shook his head, “no, no—“ he paused, “..what did she order?” he asked, realizing how stupid he might look.

the barista’s grin faltered, not expecting that response.

“uh.. vanilla coffee, why?” she questioned.

“can i add that to my order?” leon asked, he wanted to talk to you, and he wanted to seem as natural as possible to not seem like some creep.

the barista paused as she glanced back at you, “oh, yeah! yeah, of course, is that all?” she asked as she took her notepad out again. leon nodded his head, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck, “uh..yeah, ma’am, thank you.” he said quietly, nodding his head at her once more to show his gratitude before he took out his wallet.

after paying, leon stood by the counter, stealing glances over at you. once the coffees were ready, leon perked up and took them, walking over to your table.

once he reached your table, leon cleared his throat, holding the two steaming cups of coffee as he thought about what to say.

“excuse me?” he called out, hoping to get your attention from the book without having to stand there awkwardly. he had one mission tonight: to get your number.

while you read, you noticed how a figure had come up to you by your peripheral vision. taking your attention away from your reading, you looked up to see who was bothering you. you weren’t expecting to lock eyes with a police officer, it was the last thing you expected. tensing, you were startled, why was there a police man looking down at you? you hadn’t been a disturbance to the shop.

furrowing your eyebrows, you put your book down and took off your headphones before pausing your cassette.

“can i help you?” you asked, distaste clear in your features.

leon just stared, baby blue eyes taking in how pretty your makeup was. it wasn’t full traditional gothic glam, yet the detail in your eyeliner and perfectly coated black lipstick was impressive. leon bit the inside of his cheek before he took in a deep breath and shifted, “uh,” what was he supposed to say? “sorry, i was watching you earlier—“ horrible start, leon! “— and i just think you’re pretty, i like your..makeup and clothes.” he stammered. god, get it together, kennedy!

you paused, the tension in your shoulders releasing, that’s not what you expected at all.

as someone with alternative fashion, you’ve had your fair share of problems with people of authority. the world seems to love assuming that you’re satanic and plan to burn down churches, you’re nothing more than a girl that enjoys indulging in gothic media. from songs, to books, to movies, and make up. it’s just who you are.

nonetheless, having a cop, out of all people, compliment you was endearing.

you eyed the chubby cheeked cop, noticing the two cups of coffee in his hands. he was cute, with those bright blue eyes and preppy look, “aw, thanks.” you began, a small smile curling on your lips.

“what are the two coffees for?” you mused, your eyebrows raising in interest as you looked at the cups.

leon pursed his lips and glanced away, damn, why was he was acting bashful? looking back at you quickly, he let out a breathless chuckle, “i got one for you,” he said, offering you the cup. “thought it could help break the ice.”

you reached out and took the cup off his hands, a small laugh leaving your lips, this guy was charming.

“it’s working,” you mused before putting the carton cup to your lips, you took a small sip, a hum of delight leaving your lips as the warm liquid touched your tongue. vanilla, your favorite. “how did you know i liked vanilla?” you questioned.

leon shifted, “lucky guess?” he said, deciding not to mention he asked the cashier.

squinting, you nodded before putting the cup down. “so.. what do you want officer?” you asked, wanting to know the motive behind his actions, leon moved his hand up to scratch behind his neck. “i was hoping to get your number?” he said, looking at you like a hopeful puppy.

“you want my number?”

“yeah, i wanna get to know you better.”

a small smirk curled on your lips, “alright, officer.” you said, reaching into your bag, you slipped out a pen before reached for the table napkins.

leon watched intently, you swore his eyes seemed to be sparkling.

“i don’t know your name.” you pointed out while scribbling your number down onto the napkin, leon straightened up, “oh, right.. leon kennedy.” he introduced himself, glancing over at his digital watch. leon mentally winced as he realized he was already late to work.

nodding, you finished writing your number before standing up. “alright, leon, i’ll wait for your call.” you hummed, glancing at him with a small smirk before grabbing your bag and coffee. handing him the napkin, you walked away, leaving him staring at you like a lost puppy.

you were so pretty and confident, an air of mystery followed you that made leon want more.

taking the napkin in his hand, he read it.

xxx-xxx-xxxx — call me ;)

just then he realized, he didn’t know your name.

your room was chilly, closer by nine inch nails playing in the background, the song was muffled and quiet, leon’s focus was completely on you.

his lips were pressed against yours, making out with you sloppily, a moan slipped past his lips as the two of you kissed. his hands were wrapped around your body while you straddled his lap. leon’s body was hot, you were taking the lead with this and he didn’t mind — your body pressed against his while your arms were wrapped around his neck.

the kiss was eager and messy, leon’s hands resting against your back as they clutched the back of your lacy black bra, shaky hands trying to work on taking off your bra.

once oxygen began to come between the two of you, you pulled back with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips before you pulled back, your hands moving to cup his face as you looked down at him. panting, leon’s eyes locked with yours, your black lipstick smeared, coating his bruised lips.

a small smile curled on your lips before you aided him with unclasping your bra, quickly tossing it to the side, your tits perking in full display. “like ‘em?” you hummed, moving your hands to cup your breasts and push them up, leon’s eyes widened when he noticed two barbells adorning your perky nipples — your nipples were pierced and his cock was aching.

nodding like an idiot, leon shuddered, “y-yeah.” he confirmed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, greedy hands squeezing the mounds of fat, watching as the fat poked through the gaps between his fingers. he groped them like a hormonal teenage boy that’s never had a face full of tits before.

“they’re soft..” leon mumbled, squeezing and fondling.

letting out a huffing laugh, you plucked his greedy hands away from your perky tits and reached down to his pants, his denim jeans pressing tightly against his clothed cock.

shuddering, leon glanced down with wide eyes as your smaller hands palmed his cock.

a soft moan left leon’s lips, his hips twitching upward against your touch, eager for more. you moved your hand up to the zipper of his pants and expertly undid the button and zipper, leon wondered how many people you’ve been with before him. your movements were eager and precise, you had experience — it made leon’s heart tumble as he realized he didn’t match your level, yet a blossoming excitement filled his tummy.

you were going to make him putty in your hands and he was excited.

hooking your fingers on the elastic band of his pants and underwear, you tugged down the fabrics, a shaky gasp leaving leon’s lips as he felt his cock spring up from the restraints.

his throbbing cock stood proudly, the tip sticky with pre-cum while the tip blushed a rosy color.

your hand wrapped around his cock, giving him slow pumps before your gaze locked with his, “you have a pretty dick,” you mumbled, your lips curling up in a playful smile.

leon trembled, his hands moving back to clutch the black comforter of your bed. leon’s cheeks burned red as he looked down at your hand as you stroked his cock. looking up at you, he shuddered, “b-baby,“ he mumbled, “m’need you.” leon babbled.

“yeah, baby?” you mused, slipping your hand away from his cock to nestle yourself properly on his lap.

“you need me?” you repeated.

leon nodded his head, baby blue eyes lidded as he stared at you.

“s’much, please.”

you bit your bottom lip and hummed, moving to grasp his cock again before moving your hand down to your panties and pushing the fabric aside, quickly adjusting yourself above his aching cock, you lowered yourself, his tip kissing your folds.

leon was a pretty sight, he already looked fucked out and you haven’t even put his cock in, there was something about your boyfriend looking so shaky and needy under your touch that made your cunt throb. your pussy was wet and sticky, eager to feel him around your warm walls.

leon’s hands moved to your hips, his large hands squeezing the fat of your hips eagerly.

“c’mon, please, baby— please.” he pleaded, trying to roll his hips up to try and slip his cock inside your pussy.

“aw,” you smirked, tilting your head to the side, “relax, i’ve got you.” you teased, babying him.

in one swift movement, you slipped down onto his cock, a small moan of relief leaving your lips as your cunt sucked leon’s shaft eagerly. you’ve a handful of dicks inside you before, so it wasn’t uncomfortable, but leon’s body trembled.

feeling your warm walls hug his girth snugly made leon see stars.

he threw his head back as a choked moan left his lips, his eyes shutting tightly as he got accustomed to the feeling. holy shit.

panting, he squeezed your hips tightly, leaving crescent shaped marks on your skin as he dug his nails into your flesh.

“f-fuck—“ leon stammered, his eyes fluttering open and meeting your gaze. his breathing was shaky and you haven’t even moved yet — he really didn’t have much experience. leon has fucked before, he slept with his ex-girlfriend every now and then but her libido was low and leon was hormonal, the most solace he got was a hefty amount of lotion and his fist, but this? this was fucking brain altering.

slowly, you began to roll your hips again his, a soft breath leaving your lips as you felt his girthy cock push against your walls, savoring the feeling.

letting your hands rest against leon’s chest, you dug your black manicured nails against his pale skin. leon wasn’t shy about his pleasure, the moans leaving his lips were needy, whiny, and loud.

“like that?” you moaned, glancing down at him as your hips bounced against his, his cock slipping in and out of your pretty pussy, the tip pressing flush against your cervix, giving it kisses with each roll of your hips.

“y-yes,“ he gasped.

each roll of your hips felt like a surge of electricity slipping through leon’s veins, “s’good—“ he slurred, clenching his jaw as he let out a heavy breath. his grip on your hips remained tight and firm, his hips rolling up against your own, desperately trying to match your pace, but it was sloppy.

you let out a soft sigh, moving up to cup his face in your hands, leon’s gaze moved up to your face, big blue puppy dog eyes meeting yours.

smirking, you moved your chest to his face, moving his head against your plush tits.

getting the message, leon eagerly popped one of your pierced nipples into his mouth, his warm tongue pressing and flicking your bud like a baby. he moved his hands up to your waist, holding you close while he suckled eagerly.

shuddering, you let out a moan as leon sucked on your tits.

continuing to bounce on his fat cock, leon was seeing stars. being able to suck on your fat tits while your cunt actively sucked his cock back inside was making his brain fuzzy while a tight coil began to form inside his tummy.

he moaned against your skin, his balls beginning to tighten while his cock throbbed.

“gonna cum, m’gonna cum, mommy—“ he moaned, his cheek pressed against your tit while his saliva coated his skin.

he was too pussydrunk to realize he called you that, but you heard him. your eyebrows raised in surprise, “mommy?” you mused, a small smirk curling in your lips, “gonna cum for mommy?” you teased, moving your hand to the back of his head, your finger tangling between the locks of his hair. you pulled on his hair, pushing him away from your tits to look into his eyes.

leon nodded eagerly, his hips rolling against your hips.

“yes, mommy.” he gasped.

a small laugh left your lips before you let of of his hair and continued to bounce on his cock, “go ahead then, cum for mommy.” you babied, pressing your lips against his forehead, your black lipstick staining his skin.

leon moaned, his eyes rolling back as his lips parted, his lips were glossy with his saliva as his hands moved down to your hips. he gripped your body tightly as he began to maneuver you, guiding your hips against his as he fucked his hips upward.

his movements were sloppy, leon’s brain zeroing in on chasing his high.

the coil in his tummy began to tighten, he was desperate, forcing you up and down his cock like you were nothing but a pocket pussy.

you were surprised by the sudden change of pace, sometimes you forget that leon is much stronger than he seems. gasping, you felt your cunt get fucked with each thrust upward, your tits bouncing at the force while the sound of your pussy squelching around his cock got louder.

whimpering, leon bit his bottom lip harshly, he was right at his peak, and with one final thrust, he pulled you down onto his cock before his cum spurted out.

his tip nuzzled right against your battered cervix, his cum filling your pretty pussy up. thick, sticky, and milky.

leon’s back arched, his toes curling while his body trembled. he gasped and panted, a deep groan leaving his lips. he hasn’t cum that hard in forever, actually— he doesn’t think he’s ever cum that hard, his head was swirling while his body shook with the aftershock of his climax.

you let out a small moan when leon slammed you down onto his cock, your breathing steadying as he filled your cunt up with his cum.

after a few seconds, you felt leon’s cock slowly getting soft inside you, but you didn’t make any attempts to move. “leon?” you mused, feeling leon nuzzle against your chest again.

“yeah?”

you hummed, slowly moving to roll your hips against his again, his body immediately tensing as his sensitive cock got rubbed against. he squeezed you and gasped out a choked breath, wanting to stop you, needing a break to get down from his high, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“you’re getting me a plan b later.” you moaned, smirking as you felt him tremble.

tags 〜 @rigorwhoring @nilpill @cubedkennedy @ottermarbles @dollivication @dilfmaagnet @v0lturiaq @maes-mind555 @antagonize-me-motherfucker @luvrgreyy @arminsbf @sprawberry @xxfritzz @flutterylust @angelstargel @cockiiess @ghosty-the-doll @crystaksack

[moneymartin]

kate hcs? like what u did w nika plsss

・❥・- gf!kate hcs

warnings: harddd smut under the divider at the end and suggestive content :p

afab!r

a/n: i genuinely love doing hcs more than writing full on fics cause my lord i cannot write a whole story without going off track and ruining the entire thing… got carried away like always. also this is longgg overdue as well. i’ve been procrastinating everything and i feel bad for not releasing anything sooner like i promised. thank you for being patient w me lolz

i’m glad that we all agree… kate is theeee golden retriever girlfriend

i mean who wouldn’t say that

blonde masc that gives off happy vibes and literally has a tattoo that says ‘sunshine’

treats you like a real fuckin’ princess like she knows what she’s doing

okay kate lovesssss the kids

her and carson are so adorbs 💔

when someone asks her what her profession is she is not gonna say a pro hooper

shes gonna say that shes carson’s aunt 😭

def takes you over to kennedy’s house when she’s gone and makes you babysit carson w her 🥹

loves when they hold her fingers she thinks its the cutest thing in the world and you photograph the whole thing

spoils you fosho!!!!

mention one lil thing and shes buying it for you

new clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry, accessories. ANYTHING YOU WANNTTT!!!

yk how she likes tswift…

takes you to a concert for your bday if you do too

and wears that stupid cowboy hat 😒

but you guys would be matching soooo

DEFINITELY loves physical touch

hands hands handssss

they’re all over you in public like she is not afraid to show people you’re hers 😩

on your waist or hips. her fingers are always on you somehow

also does it romantically like she’ll intertwine pinkies with you and always holds your hand no matter the situation

the thumb thing is her favorite

loves pda foshooooo

i don’t think she’d be possessive but i feel like shes the jealous type

sees you w a girl at the bar or sumn and starts to FREAK!

she’ll sit next to you immediately and is touching you all over so that the girl goes away 😭

or shes burying her face into your neck and kissing your skin in front of her

WHEW!!!

everyone can disagree w me on this but i see her as lil spoon when you guys cuddle…

FIGHT ME ALL YOU WANT BUT THIS GIRL LOVEEESSSS WHEN YOU PLAY W HER HAIR WHILE SHE SLEEPS

kisses your neck or your collar while shes half asleep 😣

back rubs are her fav thing too

shes the one getting them tho cause she’s always so tense after practice and she believes that if you do it she’ll feel better already

we all know shes a passenger princess.

she probably has a car but refuses to drive it alone when you’re there cause she thinks she’ll crash it or something

lets you wear her clothes

if she was taller (most likely) she’d have you in all her shirts and stuff cause they look bigger on you

you think you shouldn’t wear anything under cause it hides everything anyways and kate agrees

in reality she just loves the easy access…

total baby when she’s drunk

and super clingy :(

arguments don’t happen often but when they do it ends real fast cause she knows how to calm you down 🥹🥹🥹

if anything though the arguments start cause its about something real stupid

teaches you how to play basketball if it isn’t your sport

can’t cook for SHIET!!!! burns eggs easily or somethin like that cause she can’t bring herself to learn

knows how to bake tho 100%

super adventurous

have you guys seen the pic of her zip lining… like she’s fearless when it comes to that stuff

hits the gym and weight room every fuckin day w you so she can build those arms 🤫

spots you when you think its too hard

KATE IS A MUNCH

ik y’all have seen that pussy eater jaw…

kisses are her thing as well

making out w you is the highlight of her night week day whatever!

initiates it all the time cause she knows you love it too

whines during it too me thinks…

when she needs you to shut up during it i firmly believe that she’ll kiss you to muffle the noises 😩

she isn’t straightforward but when she wants to she’ll make it obvious.

GROANER AND GRUNTERRRRR FOR SURE

cusses all the time

hard breather too

she’ll breathe out a bunch of words that you can barely hear cause of your own noises 💀 but you love hearing them cause you know she’s engaged

her strap game is crazy though i can tell…

feel like she’d sometimes just wear it for fun

she’ll wear it just for the looks and not to use it on you 😭😭

she doesn’t wanna have sex w you for her pleasure b/c during it, everything is about YOUUU

your pleasure >>>>> anything else

soft dom 100% but will also switch sometimes if thats what you’re feeling

especially after games like she loves having sex after cause she knows you’ll do everything for her

FUCKIN LOVES WHEN YOU RIDE HER ITS HER FAVORITE THING EVER

always grabbing your hips really tight when you do and theres always marks afterwards on them

and she likes seeing your face when you’re on top

missionary is her thing

eye contact during sex is important

to her at least

LOVES DIRTY TALKING

degrades you but only when you’re being cocky about something while she fucks the shit outta you

i don’t think she’d be aggressive but she’d be a lil rough when she’s upset

hickeys.

leaves marks EVERYWHEREEE

in the most visible spots so that people can see them when you two are in public

only happens during makeout seshes or when you guys are havin your own time tho

she so talks you through it.

always reassuring and asking if you feel good or not

“is this okay?” “does that hurt?” “it’s okay, baby. i’m right here, i promise” “take your time” lil things like that

praises you hella too

call me cringe or whatever

but she’ll call you a good girl if she has to…

when she eats you out she’s SOOO FOCUSED

quiet the wholeeee time but you can feel her getting all breathy against you

kisses your thighs after you cum so you know she’s still there 😞❤️

aftercare queen

she’s already cleaning you up and getting you a new pair of clothes or running a warm bath for the both of you 🥸

[localkiss]

Screaming for attention!

manipulative brothers best friend re4!leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!! Mentions of past grooming by leon, age gap(~8 yrs), manipulation, guilt, dirty talk, p in v, afab reader, noncon creampie, slight anal/talks of anal, codependency, slapping, daddy kink, pet names, depressed thoughts in the beginning, chubby/thicker reader, manhandling, praise kink, degradation kink, talks of pregnancy (just a bit), oral (f receiving), virginity talk, controlling leon, obsessed leon, slight size kink if u squint!

note: hhh... read the warning lol before you comment. I was going to put more of leon being so fucking weird but erm, decided not to. not proof read btw!! but i do want to say i am a victim of SA and i used to heavily think about him and wished that he went further. lol idc what people say, i still struggle thinking like that, but ik it's wrong. so yes that's what this fic is loosely based on -_-

wc: 3.1k! tags: @rigorwhoring, @argreion, @xoxostarlet, @fairry1 bc I love u all :33!

Maybe it's for the best. No more surprises. This is nothing new. All you can hear is deafening silence, swallowing you up in a warm cocoon, suffocating you like a million years of guilt and thousands of weights on your throat and chest. 

You can't help but wish he had done more. Maybe he would've if he could see your thoughts. Maybe he would've stayed.

But those sleeping pills really did a number on your body. You tried to overdose on everything you could, even your antidepressants. Yeah, it was dumb. But it was all just killing you from the inside anyway. 

All you can do now is just sob violently into your pillows. Claw at the sheets and at your scalp, so pathetically. No wonder he chose you. So fucking easy to manipulate, to knead into someone he can use. No wonder he said he only loved you like a friend after he finally got caught in the act.

Whatever it was that he said, you can't remember exactly. You just tuned him out. White noise oozing into your eardrums like water does when you stand underneath the showerhead. He didn't apologize. Didn't explain. Didn't even try to. All you did was cry and plead for him to stay. 

"Please don't leave me, Leon. Please, I can't live without you! I love you! Please!" You sobbed into the phone because, yeah, he broke up with you over text. It's not like you guys were even in a relationship. The age gap was too big and illegal to even be considered a real relationship. 

You knew he was so much older than you. Liked it. Knew it was wrong, yet went forward with it. He should've stopped it. Should've. But he didn't, though. 

You still love him deep down in your heart. He was your first love. First 'boyfriend'. First person to grope your body. You asked for a kiss, and he pressed his chapped lips against your forehead. He asked you for ass pictures, and you gladly sent them. Giggling happily whenever he complimented you and your body.

He's still your ideal type. A cuddly, tall, muscular brunette. 

You wish you could stop yourself from comparing every guy to him or hoping they won't end up like him. Using you and throwing you away as soon as they got what they wanted. 

But, now that you're legal, he reached out to you. Said some nonsense to try and get back into your heart. You didn't even care what he said. Just wanted to feel alive, to feel loved, and to be loved again. Even if it meant being loved by your abuser, you would let him drag you through hell and back if it meant he would love you like he did in the past. If it meant you could feel happy, free, and weightless again, you would march into hell with him.  

As messed up as you are, you would do anything to make him stay. So that you can feel full again. Happy again.

"Wish you would've taken all of my firsts," you pouted as he pulled away from your lips. Swollen and red, so pretty.  

Leon grinned and raised an eyebrow at your statement. "Really, baby girl? Damn," he bites on his lower lip, and his thumb brushes across the apples of your cheeks. 

Taking in the way you look different but still the same as you were years ago, just a bit fuller in your hips, thighs, and stomach, he remembers when he gripped your thigh with both of his hands. Couldn't even manage to grab ahold of all of the fat. A few inches away from completely grabbing your thigh with both hands. 

Now, he probably couldn't even make it so that there were a few inches between his hands; it would be a bit of a distance. That's how much you've grown width-wise. Length wise, you haven't really grown much. 

"Yeah, daddy," you preen under his attention, shifting your weight from your heels to your toes, and back down flat on the floor. "I mean it." 

He lets out a soft chuckle, and his calloused hands softly grab onto your shoulders, rubbing small circles into the fabric of your shirt. "Wish I could've taken all of your first too, baby. I know I would've made it all special for you. For my special girl." Leon coos, his head dipping down to lick into your mouth.

Hot spit trickles down the back of your throat and onto your chin. Making you squeeze your doughy thighs together, moaning as his hands squeeze down to your ass. Pressing you up against his built body. His hard-on throbbing against the confines of his skinny jeans, onto your soft, pudgy tummy.

He groans as you tug at the hair on the back of his head. Pulling back and squishing your cheeks together, and then tapping your face as you try to press your lips on his. His blue eyes darken as you moan when his hand makes contact with your face. 

"Fuck," he grips onto your chin, forcing your mouth open to let a wad of spit hit the edge of your tongue, letting it slide down into your tummy. "Daddy knew you'd like that. I've got a slutty little princess, huh?" 

It's a rhetorical question, but you answer with a few quick nods.

"Yeah, daddy, I'm your slutty little princess." Always so quick to repeat what he said. What he drilled into your brain years ago obviously holds up. You still want to make him happy, even if he ruined you for anyone else. Ruined you for life.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards, his hands giving your ass a quick squeeze before he pushes you down into the bed. He climbs on top of you like a hungry animal, licking his lips at the sight of his prey.

A whine escapes from your throat at the sight. He's gotten even more attractive and bigger, and it's making your brain all mushy. Shooting directly down to your core, feeling it gush out slick onto the gussets of your panties. 

You lick your lips and wrap your legs around his hips. "Please, Leon." 

He lets out a low growl, his veiny forearms coming up by the sides of your head. Firmly planting them on the mattress as he rocks his hips into yours. His bangs fall into your face as he teasingly grazes his lips against yours. Panting hotly against your lips. 

"Relax, baby," is all he says before he moves his mouth, making a wet trail from the corner of your lips down to your jawline. 

"Let me love you." Leon murmurs into your skin as he sucks a hickey underneath your ear, making you gasp and squirm beneath him. 

You become pliable, easy to bend, and easy to please. Brain too foggy to clearly think straight. Leon's marking up your neck like you'll try to run away from him. It's like you're his property now. God, you've always been his, ever since that fateful day, right?

Just a few words, and he can do whatever he wants with your body. Maybe one day you'll let him take your first time with your other hole. Who knows. 

"So pretty, fuck," his tongue dips between the valley of your breasts, hands grasping at your shirt to push it up, exposing you to his hungry eyes. His knee slots between your thighs, making you squeak and squeeze his leg involuntarily. Pressing your tits together to swipe his tongue across your perky nipples. 

Bathing your tits in his spit, he suckles on them like a madman. Enjoying the way you mewl and gasp, using his teeth to draw out more noises from you. Obsessed with every single part of you, even the not-so-pretty parts. He has you mapped out in his mind, his sweet, supple princess. 

"Has anyone ever eaten you out?" Kissing your areolas, soothing the small bite marks he left. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, brows furrowed in concentration. He's doting on you like it's the last time he'll ever see you again. 

"No," you say, pressing your lips together in a flat line. Feeling your stomach tighten up with butterflies and hints of nausea. 

Leon likes that. So much so that he smiles into your stomach, softly gnawing on the pudge around your belly button, earning some soft squeals and pats to try and push him away. He wants to make you crumble under him, submit to him, and never leave. Never want another man. Always comparing someone to him, wishing they did it like him. He wants to plague your mind and control you from the inside out. 

He wants to tie you up in his bedroom and never let you leave. Live your own life? No. Leon wants to drill it into your brain and body that he owns you, no thoughts about anything else but him and his body. 

He pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, watching the string of your arousal stick to the gussets of your panties. His large hands pry open your legs, pushing them up to your chest and holding them down with his weight. 

"Remember this," he spits onto your pussy, watching it swim down to your holes. Squeezing your legs when you squirm a little too much for his taste, deciding to spit once more to make sure you'll have his DNA in you for the next couple of days. 

Pressing chaste kisses on your clit because he knows it'll make your mind go all fuzzy and only think of Leon, Leon, Leon. And how good he's making you feel. Nobody else but him.

He dips his tongue between your folds and begins to languidly make out with it. Thrusting his tongue and swirling it upwards as his upper lip continues to make contact with your clit. Drawing out all sorts of pathetically cute noises from you. 

Wishing he was recording this so he could show it to his friends and brag about how he has molded you to be his perfect girl. You're not a woman until he fucks a baby into you. 

"You like that?" He suckles on your clit and gently bites down on it. Watching the way your face crinkles up and how you squeeze your eyes shut. Everything you do amuses him. 

"Daddy, mmh... god, yes!" You grasp the sheets as you feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in your lower abdomen. Toes curling as Leon fucks his tongue into your drippy hole. 

He shakes his head, pressing his nose into your sensitive bundle of nerves, trying to get you to cum quickly. 

Your hands desperately try to reach for Leon for comfort as you stumble into an orgasm. "Daddy... Mmphh—fuck!" 

Legs kicking out and vibrating as he coaxes you through your orgasm. Slowly swiping his tongue through your folds to slurp up all of your cum, he presses soft kisses all around your pussy. "Such a good girl," he sighs. 

Leon spreads your legs, kissing his way up to your face. He licks his way into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue and gulp down some of his saliva. "So easy." He puts his hand on your neck, lightly applying pressure as he goes back in for more kisses. Make sure you never leave this cloudy state of mind, so he can do whatever he pleases with you. 

"Maybe I can even eat you out here," he says, letting his hand wander down to your asshole and lightly tracing the rim of it. Feeling you tense up brings a sly smile to his face. "No? Okay. Maybe next time." He chuckles and pulls back to unbuckle his jeans. 

Slowly undoing his belt and putting it next to you on the bed. Unzipping his fly as he makes direct eye contact with you the entire time. He makes you gulp nervously as he finally pushes his jeans down his muscular thighs.

Your eyes immediately jump to his hard-on. How does he even keep that thing in there? It's begging to be freed, and quite frankly, you want to run away out of nerves, not believing his cock can even fit inside of you! What the fuck did Leon even eat for it to even have grown that big and thick?

Leon sees the cogwheels turning in your head as he steps out of his pants. With each step he takes, it bounces against the slightly stained, striped fabric. "Baby, don't be so nervous. It'll be alright." His voice is soothing and convincing, almost hypnotic in the way it makes your body buzz and your mind go blank. 

It is a bit terrifying to think about the effect he honestly has on you, your mind, body, and soul. 

"Are you on the pill?" He asks, although he already knows the answer. 

"No, I'm not." You mumble shyly. Embarrassed to not be on some sort of birth control.

Leon reaches down for his wallet and pulls out a condom. "Good thing I always come prepared, huh?" Chuckles as he pulls down his briefs, stepping out of them as he tears open the condom packaging. He slipped it on his drippy and flushed tip, sliding all the way down to the base. 

Slowly kneeling on the bed to lead his dick to your hole. Sliding through your folds to gather more fluids to make the first push easier on you. 

"Ready?" He grunts as he teases you by tapping himself on your swollen clit. 

"Uhuh, 'm ready," you whine as he slowly eases himself into your pussy. 

Moaning as you helplessly flutter and tighten around his shaft. Watching your face carefully as you scrunch and tense up. Stopping halfway and grabbing ahold of your hand, his other one grips the fat of your hip so tight it'll leave a bruise the next day. 

"Almost there, baby girl, doing so well for me," he presses a soft kiss to your forehead as he drives more of himself deep inside of you.

You look down at your stomach and tighten around him as you notice the bulge from his cock being so big and deep inside of you. His tip is brushing against the opening of your womb.

"Nnh, Leon, too big," you gasp as he rolls his hips against yours. Legs squeezing against his waist as he slowly starts to thrust shallowly.

"Baby, relax. Can barely pull out of you," Leon rasps in your ear, sending chills down your spine as you try to force yourself to relax around him. 

"Mnmph, sorry, Daddy. Please—" you pout, squeezing his hand tightly. Trying to signal for him to start pounding your needy cunt already.

He nibbles on your earlobe, slowly shifting his hips to thrust in and out of you properly. Soft plap, plap, plap, of his body hitting yours, making sure that he hits your g-spot. 

You swallow a whine as he lets go of your hip to lazily rub his thumb on your swollen little button. Hearing the way your breath hitches and seeing the slight curve in your spine makes all his administrations worth it. Slowly speeding up his movements as he squeezes your hand, groaning low in his throat when you clench around him tightly like a vice. 

"Tight cunt all f'me," he thrusts harder and harder, making it difficult to keep quiet. Soft punched-out cries leave your lips alongside Daddy, Daddy, Daddy's. "Fuck, daddy's gonna make you cum so hard around his cock, might even make you scream." 

Leon slowly pushes your legs up, putting you into a mating press as he drives himself deeper into you. Fucking into your womb, which craves his thick cum. Ecstatic with the idea of 'accidentally' slipping the condom off and cumming deep in your womb. Get you pregnant and finally be his woman. 

"God, wanna get you pregnant so bad, baby," he pants, bangs falling into your face with each harsh thrust. "Would take care of you and the baby. Mmhh shit—would suck the milk outta your fat leaky tits." 

Drools into your mouth as he kisses you with fervor, teeth clashing as his dick continues to fill up your sloppy pussy. 

"Leon, please, 'm so close," you hiccup as he vigorously rubs your clit in tight circles. Your legs brush up against his head as you feel that familiar warm coil in your stomach. 

"Cum for me princess." Leon's eyes darken; pupil's swallowing up his iris as he watches you unfold before him. Because of him. 

Your body tenses up and convulses with each swipe of his thumb on your sensitive nerves. Letting out a silent scream, your eyes close tightly as you try to hold onto Leon as best as you can, feeling his hot breath on your kissed, swollen lips. His fat cock is hitting all the right spots, almost painfully good as he fucks you deeply. Constantly pressing up against your womb, making your toes curl. 

Slowly rutting through your orgasm, he feels his own start to creep up on him. "Fuck, hold on, baby. Gonna pull out for a sec," he pants, pulls out of your heat, and discreetly pulls off the condom, letting it fall on his jeans. 

He quickly puts it back in before you can notice, giving you a spine-chilling smile. Giving you a few pecks on your lips and on your forehead as he uses you like a fleshlight now. 

Letting out soft whimpers and moans, he puts his head on your shoulder. The sounds of sex are his favorite sounds. Your crying is his favorite sound in the entire world. Nothing can top you crying out for him while moaning like a total slut. 

"So fucking hot, Jesus Christ," he groans, hips rabbiting into your pussy. Your insides are so warm and so wet, he feels like it's the first time he's going raw ever. Orgasm on the fence with each thrust. That and you're making all these noises, it's hard for him to concentrate on not cumming so fast. 

"G'nna cum, babe, holy fuck—" He lifts his head off of your shoulder and kisses you feverishly, spitting deep into your throat. Putting his forehead on yours, his nose touches yours as he grunts, pumping his cum into your pussy. Sticky white ropes straight into your womb. 

Panting and whimpering as his cock slowly ruts into your messy cunt. "Fuck... So good," he chuckles lightheartedly. 

Your pussy quivers around his shaft as it softens up. It feels so hot and sticky, and your mind is too fuzzy to even process that he came inside. A dumbfounded smile plastered on your flushed pink face makes his heart swell up. 

"Such a good girl. My good girl, right?" Leon nuzzles his nose against yours. Driving the fact that you'll always be his. Even if you move across the country, he'll always follow. Always in your shadow. 

"Uhuh," you respond shyly, giggling at the affection he's giving you. His eyes soften up, and you take in his face. The light stubble, small acne scars, and the way his hair is fading from dirty blonde to brown. "always, daddy." 

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙a slut for being in love | DR3 CL16˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: daniel ricciardo x y/n fem reader (she/her) x charles leclerc x your bff y/bff/n fem (she/her)

genre: social media au, polyamory

warnings: polyamory, fourple

summary: in which your highly unconventional relationship is finally out to the world 🌍

a/n: interesting mixture HAHA sorry if it's chaotic tbh but i really will just write anything im asked for 🙂

request!!!: hi bff can i req y/n x daniel x y/bff/n x charles fanfic pls pls plsssssss 😊

fc: gracie abrams, kennedy walsh

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by yourbff, danielricciardo, and 121,852 others

yourusername who's afraid of little old me

view all 3,726 comments

user1 daniel?!

user2 yea apparently they're dating

user3 cute

yourbff my pretty and perfect girl

yourusername ilysm

yourbff ilym

user4 danny on the facetime🥹

danielricciardo missing you

yourusername !!!! miss you unreal amnts

user5 wait if she isnt with daniel who is in the last pic?

user6 interesting

yourbff

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 88,174 others

yourbff a slut for being in love, if you will

view all 2,173 comments

user7 so much to unpack here

user8 is that y/n?

user9 yea nd pretty sure the guy is charles??

yourusername caption so real

charles_leclerc agree

danielricciardo yup

yourbff knew you guys would get it

user10 the cogs are turning ngl

user11 waiting for the poly theory threads on twt

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

yourbff posted a story

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 101,263 others

user16 this gay shi

user17 hello???

danielricciardo oh so we're doing this

yourbff oh yes 👀

user18 scream

charles_leclerc miss you guys

yourbff ofc u do 💋

user19 another one for the fourple truthers

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 417,927 others

danielricciardo reunited x

tagged: yourusername, yourbff, charles_leclerc

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landonorris and i cant even get one girlfriend

danielricciardo skill issue

yourbff you can have me if u want lando

yourusername NO

charles_leclerc no wtf

danielricciardo 🤡

landonorris oh

user20 wtf?????

user21 LOLLLLLL the craziest soft launch of a fourple in the world

user22 y/n and y/bff/n are so gorgeous

user23 charles is so 🥵

yourusername ur telling me

charles_leclerc stop

yourbff no let her speak

yourbff posted a story

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 152,837 others

user24 so who's he looking at

user25 omg cute

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user27 can't believe this is real life

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liked by yourbff

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

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yourusername 100% sober w my babies

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user28 her babies 🥺

user29 the last pic AHHH Y/BFF/N AND CHARLES

yourbff pints pints pints

liked by yourusername

user30 i can't believe the fourple is real

user31 im still in shock

user32 they are just best friends who kiss

charles_leclerc i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you

yourusername chat, do you think he loves me?

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danielricciardo free my guy

charles_leclerc 😓😓😓

user33 LOL

charles_leclerc

liked by yourbff, yourusername, and 638,194 others

charles_leclerc heyy

tagged: danielricciardo, yourbff, yourusername

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user34 AHHH CUTIES

user35 i stil cant believe this

user36 f1 is changed forever

yourbff heyy

yourusername heyy

danielricciardo heyy

charles_leclerc everyone loves to laugh at me

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THE END 🫶

[pasukiyo]

TAKE YOU LIKE A DRUG

bodyguard!leon x f!popstar!reader word count; 1,576 warnings; smut, oral (f receiving) summary; he's tried time and time again to push you away, to make you understand that you don't know what it means to want him. but how can he resist the temptation when you come barreling into his hotel room in the late hours of the night?

 Three knocks against Leon’s hotel room door woke him. 

 With a grumble, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his knuckles digging the sleep away from his eyes. He blinked through the blurriness of his vision down at the phone resting on the nightstand, ‘2:30’ in big, bold white letters across the top of the screen. 

 Three more knocks on the door made him rise from the bed and pull a loose t-shirt over his head, muscles aching with each step he took. 

 Frustration laced his weary bones— for fuck’s sake, it was his night off. For just once, he’d like to get some real sleep.  

 The knocking began again and Leon swung open the door before the count could reach three. He blinked, his brow dipping as he took in the figure before him. Her name tumbled from his lips and it was as if his voice was what made her snap, surging forward into him, her lips sealing his in a kiss. 

 Leon nearly stumbled backwards when she threw herself on him, an arm wrapped around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek. He steadied himself with either of his hands on her hips, attempting to pull himself away but the desperation in her kiss dragged him right back in, as if the ocean’s waves had crashed over his head. 

 Leon had kissed her many times before, too many times to count. They’d kissed in secret, in many storage closets, in dressing rooms, behind many backs. They’d kissed in hotel rooms, rental homes, even in each other’s own bedrooms. They’d kissed slowly, they’d kissed hard, they’d taken their time, and they'd kissed until they had to force themselves away to make schedules on time. 

 She kissed him now with a desperation he’d never tasted, never felt from her before. Her kiss was mind-numbing, nearly enough to turn his brain to mush and make his knees feel weak. But the slick, oily voice somewhere in the back of his head reminded him that he couldn’t do this, that he knew this was wrong. The voice’s whispers infected his brain like a parasite and twisted like vines around his ears, its breath hot as it curled around his cheeks. 

 Leon peeled open his eyelids and pushed her away by the grip he had on her hips, either of their chests heaving. She blinked up at him, a furrow in her brow and a look so devastating in her eyes that he had to turn away, wiping her spit from his lips. 

 “I told you we can’t do this anymore,” Leon managed to say over his panting. 

 She shook her head, “I don’t care.”

 Leon, still with his back turned, closed his eyes, willing his heart to ease in his chest. This was the last thing he needed— temptation. Because that was all he saw whenever he looked at her. Temptation. A lust from deep within the pit of his belly for risk, a dark, twisted desire to corrupt her, to ruin her like he already was. There were many secrets he’d kept— from her, from others. Secrets he’d buried long ago and vowed he’d never let resurface— secrets he was too tempted to dig up from the grave he’d abandoned long ago the closer he let himself be drawn to her. 

 There was a whole life’s worth of baggage he knew he shouldn’t burden her with, knew she didn’t deserve to have to deal with. Leon Kennedy was wrong for her in every single sense— why couldn’t it just be simple to get her to understand that?

 Leon sighed her name again, “you should,” he shook his head. “You should also be asleep right now. You just played a two hour show and you have a photoshoot in seven—“

 “I don’t care, Leon.”

 His muscles tensed when her hand slithered around his elbow, casting a glare to the ground beneath their feet as she coiled like a snake around his body until she stood before him. She dipped her chin, leaning down until their eyes could meet. 

 “Why are you always depriving yourself?” She asked, her temper short and rising to the gleam in her eyes. “You always push me away but I know you better than you think, Leon.”

 Leon’s jaw clenched and his gaze sharpened, shaking his head. Her bottom lip quivered at the intensity of his stare but still, she wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t let go. 

 “You don’t know the first thing about me,” he muttered. “And trust me, if you did, you wouldn’t want me.”

 She huffed, pressing her lips together to tame her temper. “You don’t know that,” she shook her head and he scoffed, slipping his arm away from her grip. She followed when he turned to move away, like a leech in his skin he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. “Will you stop walking away from me for one goddamn second and just listen to me?”

 Leon turned, towering over her very suddenly, eclipsing whatever little light still remained in the room. She nearly stumbled back when he hovered over her, her lips parting in a gasp when her back hit the wall. Even still, Leon leaned closer, sleep a distant memory on his bones. 

 “When will it get through your thick fucking skull that I’m not good for you?” He practically hissed with a venom she felt straight in the chest. She blinked, and he continued, “you don’t know what it means to want me. You don’t know what kind of baggage you’re asking for.”

 There was a lump at the base of her throat that visibly bobbed when she swallowed and what might have been mistaken for fear began to show for what it really was— curiosity, desire, lust. 

 “I think I can discern what’s good or bad for me on my own,” she murmured, “I don’t need you to make decisions for me.”

 Leon blinked— was it even possible to get this girl to realize she was making a mistake?

 She balled the front of his t-shirt in a fist and tugged him into her, their breaths two ghosts in a waltz, the tips of their noses nearly touching. 

 “When will that get through your thick fucking skull?” She asked in a whisper, gaze flickering down to his lips and back. Leon’s heart thundered in his chest, the oily voice growing louder, barking its warnings. But the longer they stared at one another, the fainter the voice seemed to be until it drowned altogether. 

 Leon’s breath shuddered when he sucked it in, “you’re making a mistake.”

 She leaned further in until their lips were a mere wisp away from each other, “I’ll think I’ll live.”

 Their lips became one again and this time, Leon had no intention of pulling away. His hands were on her hips, woven in her hair, hers on his face, on his shoulder. They kissed with a fervor neither had ever felt before, their kiss was electric, and with a simple spark, they were both set aflame. 

 Leon’s hands carried her to bed and caressed the soft stomach beneath her t-shirt, his fingers curling around the hem of her shorts and tugging until they, along with her underwear, were discarded in a pile on the floor. 

 There they were again, making the same mistake they made time and time again. Her hands were in the dark blonde hair atop his head, still messy with sleep and his arms were hooked around her thighs, face burrowed into the sopping cunt between her legs, breathing her in like a vapor. His tongue swirled around her clit at an agonizing pace, one that had her throwing her head back into the pillows, her back arching up off the mattress. 

 “Mmm…” she mewled, squirming where she laid. “Fffuck Leon.”

 Leon hummed against her aching bud, taking her in as if she were a drug, for that’s exactly what she was. 

 A drug— one he couldn’t get enough of. One he always pushed away from but still clawed his way back to over and over again. She was a beautiful vice tied with a ribbon of glamor and fame, the physical embodiment of everything Leon didn’t and would never deserve. She was something too grand, too perfect, too good for him. 

 Leon greedily lapped up everything she had to offer with his tongue to her center, staring up at her through heavy, hooded lids as she writhed and mewled his name. She sang for him like the pretty little songbird she was, his tongue’s ministrations her muse, the ink to the pen she used to write her lyrics. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if this moment would be turned into a song, music thousands of her fans would scream the lyrics to and he’d be the only one to understand it for what it truly meant. 

 “Fuck! More… Leon, please! Feels so… shit! Feels so fucking good!”

 Like the selfish bastard he knew he was deep down, Leon buried his tongue further into the heat of her cunt, stealing her siren’s song straight from her lips. She was like a siren, enchanting him with her song, with each pretty little note he dug from her with every stroke of his tongue. And just like the selfish, undeserving bastard he was, Leon drank everything she had to offer up like an expensive brand of wine. 

a/n; another one in the books for these two! thank you all so much for all the love you gave i can see you, it makes me so happy to see so many of you enjoying this little au! (also to see fellow resident evil fans/swifties 🤭

🎀 if you enjoyed this one, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@corruptcoder

@chaoticevilbakugo

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@luckypurins

[wexhappyxfew]

‘judy was right — and she usually was’

about time someone said it!!!!! kennedy is so real for this

RIGHT?!?!?? kennedy is by far one of the most ultimate (in my opinion) Girl’s Girl™️. she will defend you with her life, always has her girls’ backs, will hype them up and support them and do anything to give them the credit and love they deserve. kennedy is really just That Girl™️.

PLUS — with judy being the youngest of the group, she’s already overlooked by others more often than she should be and when in doubt - kennedy’s always giving her the credibility she deserves. because usually - judy will ALWAYS be right about things; mostly because of her positivity and general incline to look at things with hope and glass-half-full energy. and kennedy loves that about people because she doesn’t feel she’s entirely like that - so being around people who look at the world like that (mainly margie and judy) she always respects the hell out of people like that (namely the entire Silver Bullets crew lmfao, she’d defend the crew for her LIFE!). kennedy was in fact the realest for a statement like that :’)

JUDY RYBINSKI SUPREMACY!!!!!! <33333

[explorevenus]

birthday girl ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom

word count - 3.1k

description - after months on end in captivity, your special day arrives. leon plans to make it your best birthday ever.

tags/warnings - yandere!leon kennedy, reader is in captivity (it's loosely based in the universe of my fic something permanent), no use of Y/N, pet names (puppy, princess, etc.), daddy kink, dubcon, reader gets put on a collar and leash, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink

a/n - a birthday gift for my chaos puppy wife @nexysworld ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

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

-venus ♡

"Do you know what day it is, princess?"

You were a little bit shocked that those were the first words out of Leon's mouth when he came home from work that day. He didn't ask you about your day, he didn't implore you to ask about his, he simply asked you if you knew what day it was, and of course you didn't. You had no way of knowing. It almost made you nervous that this was a test.

Warily, you shook your head. "I don't know. What day is it?"

His smile widened, more than reaching his eerily warm blue eyes as answered you, "It's your birthday."

You hadn't really thought about it. By now you'd sort of forgotten that time was even real. "It's my birthday?" You tilted your head.

Leon nodded sweetly, tipping you up by your chin so he could gift you with a barrage of soft kisses. "It is, and if I have anything to say about it, it's gonna be your best birthday."

Eyeing him curiously, you said nothing, and he didn't either. He just took your hand and brought you down to the kitchen, where you were mildly surprised to find quite the spread waiting for you. Laid out on the kitchen island was a beautiful cake decorated in your favorite colors, a takeout bag from what was once your favorite restaurant when you weren't being held captive and two small boxes wrapped in pink paper. You couldn't help but wonder when he found the time to do all of this.

"What do you think, angel?" He asked, a hand at the small of your back as he watched your face closely for your reaction.

You approached the island slowly, inspecting the cake like a piece of fine art. Based on the intricacy of the decorations alone, it was obviously not inexpensive, and now you were extra curious about what could possibly be in those boxes.

"Thank you," You responded, turning around to face him, and despite how much you hated throwing him a bone, your next words weren't entirely ingenuine, "This was really thoughtful."

You never imagined something as simple as a spontaneous birthday party would be enough to make you feel a little bit normal again, to remind you that time is still real. 

Leon drew your body in close so he could plant a kiss at the crown of your head. "It's my pleasure, really. The day my princess was brought into this world is one worth celebrating."

What you weren't expecting was for dinner to feel even more normal somehow. You didn't feel like a captive as you and Leon sat across from each other in the low light, sharing casual conversation over your favorite meal from a takeout box like it was just another day. By some stroke of luck he even poured you a glass of wine. 

Out of extreme caution for your safety, of course, Leon didn't light any candles on your cake before he cut you a slice, but he did prompt you to make a wish anyway. For the first time in a long while, it didn't even occur to you to wish for your freedom. You silently wished that treatment like this wouldn't be saved solely for your birthday going forward.

When it came time to open your presents, you were intensely curious. It was long since evident by now that Leon had studied your life and your interests long before he ever took you in, so there was no telling what he might have thought up for you. As you carefully untied the ribbon on the smaller of the two boxes, your heart began to race a little bit. Leon's gaze was practically burning holes into you as you opened the box.

Inside was an immaculate ring, and you didn't even want to imagine how much it must have cost. The band was lined with small glittering diamonds that came together in the middle to wind around a specimen of your favorite stone.

"Leon..." You gasped softly, plucking the ring from the satin it was perched in, and before you had a chance to, he gently took it from your hand and slipped it on to your ring finger. Of course, it was a perfect fit. "It's beautiful... thank you."

Brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, Leon kissed your forehead and smiled, admiring the way the stones glittered in the low light. "You deserve it, sweet girl. You've been such a little angel for me lately."

You were a bit shocked by how good it felt to hear him say that. The more you thought about it, the more you realized how hard you'd been trying lately, and as dark as it might have been, it was absurdly validating to have him acknowledge that.

Entirely of your own volition, you drew him in for a hug, pretending for just one moment that this was all completely normal, that Leon was just your boyfriend who was being sweet by treating you to a private birthday celebration. 

He granted you another kiss before pulling away, gesturing toward the second box on the table. "One more, sweetheart. Go ahead and open it."

Your eyes were mostly drawn to the shimmering ring on your finger as you pulled apart the ribbon and took off the top-- your attention, however, was quickly pulled back in to the contents of the box as soon as the lid was off. Nestled safely in a bed of tissue paper was a collar and leash, baby pink in color and noticeably high quality, possibly even custom made. Dangling from the collar was a heart shaped tag, Princess engraved in the middle. Suddenly your face began to burn and all those sweet feelings from just moments before melted away into that familiar sense of horror you'd gotten so used to.

But you knew he was waiting for an answer. Hesitantly, you looked up at him with a forced smile and said, "It's beautiful, daddy."

Leon pulled you into his lap, peppering your cheek and jaw with a barrage of kisses as he gathered your hair at the base of your neck in preparation to put the collar on you. "I'm glad you like it, pretty baby," He spoke into your ear, nibbling softly at the shell. "Gotta make sure you know you're all mine."

Your breath hitched as you felt the piece clasp into place around your neck, and only seconds later he was clipping the leash to the loop in the front and giving it a quick little tug just to test it out. Whimpering softly, you leaned back into his broad chest and rested your head on his shoulder, trying so hard now to forget about the ring on your finger.

For your birthday, he got you two presents that really only benefitted him by symbolizing your commitment. You were about to find out that he intended to make that three. 

"Now, let's see how well you train on that leash, baby."

He tugged at it again, stepping around you to begin leading you toward the stairs, and it didn't exactly take a stroke of genius to discern where he might be taking you. Your throat tightened and your face burned as you were left with no choice but to fall in line behind him. You wanted to dig your heels into the floor and resist, but you also wanted to bask in how nice he was being to you, relatively speaking anyway.

At least for your birthday, you chose peace.

Leon was impressed with your behavior as he led you into the bedroom. He honestly expected a healthy amount of resistance, and to be met with none felt euphoric. Maybe you really had come around, he thought to himself, and he couldn't help but smirk.

Walking you over to the end of the bed, Leon looped some of the excess leash around his knuckles and caressed your cheek with his other hand, guiding you forward until you were standing in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. He gave you a kiss to the crown of your head before stooping down to whisper in your ear, "Get on the bed, on your hands and knees."

His tone was gentle but his words made you frown to yourself. Still, you obeyed without question, shaking limbs wobbling to steady yourself on the plush bed. You felt especially vulnerable like this, unable to see what he was doing without making a show of craning your neck, without showing your fear. He played with your hair for a moment before tracing his fingers down your spine, cresting at your tailbone where he began to greedily tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head and off the leash before finally discarding it to the floor.

He leaned in over your back to smooth his hand up and down the curves of your waist, dipping forward to cup one of your breasts and tease your pebbled nipple. You could already feel his cock against your lower back, distinctly hardening in his jeans. He gave the leash another gentle pull, as if just to remind you that it was there.

"Look at the birthday girl, behaving so well on her new leash," He mused, pressing a wet kiss to the base of your neck. "So sweet for me, letting daddy play with you and make you feel good, huh?"

You nodded, melting at his touch and praises despite your better judgment. Without having to face him, it was easier than you expected to pretend this was normal. And maybe you did deserve a treat for your birthday, to be made to feel good for no other reason than as a celebration of your life.

Your life. Lately you didn't feel there was much to celebrate, but that was neither here nor there. If you closed your eyes, it was just another day. If you closed your eyes, you were back in your apartment. If you closed your eyes, Leon was only your well-meaning boyfriend who just so happened to be into kinky shit.

Now it was your shorts and panties being yanked down in one swift movement, bunching at your bent knees, but he didn't bother to fully remove them. He didn't need to. His clothed cock rutted impatiently against your exposed sex, sparking up that familiar wet heat of pleasure to begin building between your thighs. Suddenly you were the impatient one.

Lucky enough for you, you didn't even get a chance to complain before he was lowering to his knees at the end of the bed, burying his face between your legs to lap at your slick folds from behind. You let out a quiet whine and attempted to wiggle your hips closer to his affection-- he thought about yanking at your leash to tell you 'no,' but, hey... it was your birthday. So he let it slide.

His skilled tongue lapped at every drop of you, swirling and sucking at your clit and routinely wandering back to trace over your fluttering hole, determined not to let any of your arousal go to waste. Every little gasp and whine that fell from your lips served to spur him on, and now he was tugging at your leash just for fun, amused by the way you would choke a little bit and gasp for breath every time.

"Tastes so fucking good," He groaned into your cunt, the vibrations making you squirm and want for more. "Like candy. My own little puppy girl lollipop."

Eager as he was to fuck you right then and there, he couldn't stop himself from drinking you in like ice water on a hot day. You deserved it, after all, his sweet little puppy princess. So, in spite of himself, he took his time with you.

His free hand ghosted up the inside of your thigh to tease at your dripping hole, watching in awe as his own digit sank into you, and then another. He observed with stars in his eyes as your needy cunt seemed to suck him in deeper, only solidifying to him just how badly you really wanted it. More often than not, you would shy away whenever he initiated, but not today. Not on your birthday.

Leon curled his fingers up in search of that familiar spongy spot that made you cry out and go weak, your knees wobbling on the mattress as you readjusted your arms in an attempt to hold yourself up. It was cute, he thought, just how easy it was to make you fall apart at the seams.

"Daddy," You gasped out, slippery walls clenching tightly around his fingers. "Please, please..."

And again, typically he would make you verbalize what you wanted, if it were any other day. You could have asked him for practically anything right now and he would have given it to you, so he did.

"Alright, alright, sweetheart," He said, withdrawing his fingers from you to rise back up on his feet and discard his own clothing. "Can't keep the birthday girl waiting. That wouldn't be very nice, would it?"

"Mm-mm," You shook your head in agreement, trembling and wiggling your hips without even really realizing it.

He couldn't help but chuckle lowly at this, a smirk tugging at his face as his cock sprung free from his boxers with a quiet, wet slap against his navel. Giving himself a few gentle strokes just to ease the pressure, Leon pulled you up by your leash just a little bit to surprise you and ensure your attention before lining himself up at your entrance, fucking into you with an uncommon gentleness.

Your head was spinning, mouth falling open with a slow, pleasured mewl at the feeling of him splitting you open like that, every inch of him dragging deliciously against your inner workings until the head of him bumped against your cervix, giving you a little jolt. You were already panting for breath, your hair falling in front of your face and you couldn't even care enough to move it as he stilled inside you for a moment, reveling in the warm, tight cavern of you.

Then, with a soft groan, he began to rock into you. The bedroom was blooming with the scent of sex as your arousal only continued to grow, slicking his length with your juices.

"F-Fuck," You whined, head falling forward to rest lazily on the mattress and as a result, your legs spread just a little wider to accommodate the new position, allowing him to drive even deeper into you than you were expecting. Your face went red hot and you barely realized you were drooling a little bit as he gripped you by your hip and drove into you with ardor.

"That's right, pretty baby," Leon cooed, looping your leash around his knuckles a few more times just so he could see the fucked-out look on your face. "Feels so good, doesn't it?"

You nodded dumbly in place of a more proper response, knowing you could get away with it tonight. 

"Mhm, I know it does. Just look at you," He mused.

And in that moment, he decided he really wanted to just look at you. So he yanked at your leash harder than ever before, drawing you upright until your back was flush against his chest, his mouth right in your ear so he could kiss you and taunt you. The pace of his hips picked up speed as he continued to lose himself to the feeling of your plush walls and the sounds of your incoherent whining, your chest heaving for breath as the leash pressed on your throat just enough to make you feel a little tingly and weak.

His warm hand closed around your breast, kneading and playing and tugging at your nipple just to make you squirm. You were such a perfect little plaything.

“So cute… Just so fucking cute,” The words were growled out right into your ear and you clenched around him in response, face burning. “Maybe for my birthday this year, you can really make me a daddy. Give me a little baby just like you to fawn over and spoil.”

And sure, you knew it would be a terrible idea to agree to that, but… you weren’t exactly in the clearest state of mind right now. So you nodded, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder while he drove into you with a measured pace, his hand roaming down to rest on your stomach.

“Yeah? Gonna let me fuck a baby into you, sweet thing? You want daddy’s baby for your birthday?”

It was evident that he’d learned by now you could be especially pliant while otherwise distracted. You were crying out yes and please without even really thinking about it– or whole-heartedly agreeing with it, which he knew, but didn’t really care so long as it benefitted him in the end.

Your climax was fast approaching and he knew it, judging by the way you were pulsing around him and squirming in his tight hold, your breaths short and quick and your skin burning hot. With a knowing grin that you couldn’t see, he lowered his hand once more until the tips of his fingers found your engorged bud like muscle memory, rubbing tight circles with just the right amount of pressure that he knew would be enough to send you over the edge.

“There you go baby, c’mon,” He grunted into your ear, “Let go for me…”

The added stimulation had you twitching and shaking, your eyes screwed shut as you clawed at his arms for any sort of purchase. A string of curses and whines crested from your pouting lips until you began to convulse around him, a rush of arousal spilling out around his cock. The warm, wet feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over into his own end, and you were graced with the distinct feeling of his cock erupting into your waiting womb.

He rutted into you a few more gentle times, pressing a languid kiss to your cheek before dropping the leash, forcing you back down to the mattress by the back of your head. You whimpered and squirmed uncomfortably as you felt the gravity drive his load deeper into you, and it didn’t take a stroke of genius to discern he had done it on purpose.

“Better sit still like that, pup, let nature take its course,” Leon said as though it was obvious, taking a few steps back to admire the image of you. “Did you have a good birthday?”

You felt quite gross, sure, but all things considered… “Yeah, I-I did. Thank you, daddy…”

[grilde1chesse]

⇢ RESiDENT EViL HEAD CANONS

- jack krauser, leon kennedy, luis serra, ada wong, chris redfield, albert wesker, jill valentine, claire redfield, ethan winters

✧ jack krauser

transman & mlm he doesn’t listen to music often, but when he does it's metal grew up on the countryside with traditional home values (stay at home mom, "man of the house", etc. etc.) as the youngest sibling to 3 brothers. his parent's marriage wasn't one out of love, but rather convenience & societal expectations/pressure. because of this were constantly fighting & physically abusive towards Jack and his siblings. acted and presented masculine from a young age in order to prove he can be a "real" man. ran away from home to join the military at 18. he's spent most of his life away from civilian life, and because of this, he doesn't know how to function in society outside combat. ( "During his days off, Krauser often participated in mercenary work, as he felt that he could not function within society and believed that his service and the thrill of combat were what gave his life meaning." ) extremely insecure about being transgender & uses his power/rank to "make up" for it. resents his homosexuality as he sees it as the remaining "female side" of him he's unable to get rid of. because of this internalized homo/transphobia, he's extremely violent towards anyone he falls for and takes that involuntary attraction as a direct insult to his masculinity. this also ties into his childhood & how he grew up without an example of what healthy affection looks like. his hyper masculinity and borderline (if not outright) misogyny stems from his own dysphoria and insecurities. wears a packer religiously. fighting tooth and nail to not turn this into a ship brainrot ramble BUT this is why i think Krauser's so overly harsh on Leon while also favoriting him to a degree. ("Either way, this is definitely not a 'training room,' this is something Krauser, presumably, put together specifically to train Leon away from the others. There's too much clutter and nothing that would indicate that it's any sort of training area.") ALSO LOOK AT THIS EDIT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

✧ leon s. kennedy

transman & bisexual (realistically it wouldn't be likely/possible that he'd been on testosterone long enough for his voice to change to the degree it has in re2r, as it was the 80s... BUT theres no fun in that :-) plus it explains the voice change from re2r to re4r) honorary dad & country rock lover. (canon confirmed?) listens to Nickelback, Saving Abel, Nine Inch Nails, Hinder, Breaking Benjamin, Failure, Nirvana, Avenged Sevenfold, Seether, some MCR (denies it), Shinedown & similar bands :-)!! autistic, has sensitive skin & eczema. a chronic gum chewer. it’s a comforting, absent minded movement that keeps him grounded on the job. spearmint hurts his mouth so he prefers bubble gum or less cold mint flavors. (i'm not projecting u r.) named after his father and introduces himself as Leon S. Kennedy to separate himself from him. went by Scott/Scottie in his teenage years. total mama's boy. Leon Senior was a heavy alcoholic and is where he got his drinking problems from, something Leon's incredibly insecure about as he's afraid of turning into his dad. grew up resenting his father and blames him for his mom's death. had a bit of chub before becoming an agent & grew into a dad bod/beer belly as he got older :-)!!! was extremely insecure as a teenager & child, having facial and body dysphoria both of which remained untreated & linger in his adult life somewhat. was a very light blonde when he was younger, but his hair gradually got darker as he grew up until he was a light brown/dirty blonde (cue identity crisis "am i blonde or a brunette???"). eventually, he started bleaching it. lost motivation and stopped dying it as he got older. movie buff (canon) ( "He makes a lot of references to films such as the "go medieval on your ass" line from RE4R, which is a quote from Pulp Fiction or comparing the China mission to Black Hawk Down. He also quotes a whole scene from Casablanca from memory in Vendetta (the "I never make plans that far ahead" part), so he seems to watch quite a variety of films." ) in the nicest most affectionate way possible... he is so annoying about movies actually, will not shut up with his trivia the whole time it plays. hates horror movies but will never admit it. played hockey as a kid. grew up somewhere cold & is adapted to cold temperatures (he can't stand the heat though). had a dog as a kid and used to absolutely love them (specifically bloodhounds) but he developed a phobia of them after Raccoon City (can you blame him?). no matter how badly he wants a normal domestic life (to settle down, start a family, and give his kids the childhood he never had) he’s secretly terrified of the idea. he doesn’t know how to function outside of work, even when on vacation he can’t seem to relax. (he'd probably name his kids some stupid shit like "Hunter" though, so maybe that's for the best...)

✧ luis serra

cisgender & bisexual or mlm the closest we have to a canon music taste 4 him is Barbie Girl by Aqua (hehe), BUT i'd imagine he'd be a fan of musicians like Queen, Elton John, Michael Jackson, Madonna, ABBA, Billy Joel, Dolly Parton and other artists known to be popular in queer communities!! Grew up Catholic & still holds onto some core ideologies, though in a more superstitious way than religious. while he doesn't consider himself Catholic, he still carries around a cross necklace from his childhood & prays occasionally. Valdelobos was (in canon) devoutly Catholic prior to Saddler's reign, so it makes sense for him to hold on to some of that guilt. (him signing the cross in game.) his jacket is custom-tailored. going on a biiiit of a ramble/history lesson here... but if you look up Western saddles you'll find some with floral patterns similar to Luis' jacket. it's a kind of leather carving that was APPARENTLY inspired by medieval Spanish saddles. not really relevant but a fun fact nonetheless! :-) he picked up smoking from his grandfather. extremely picky when it comes to what cigarettes he smokes. he prefers Marlboro Reds (i don't smoke (except for when i'm missing you) so idrk what i'm talking about) very sentimental & holds on to little trinkets & gifts & pictures, etc. (this is somewhat canon confirmed, seen with him holding onto the Umbrella Dream Team photo, along with the lighter.)

✧ ada wong

transwoman & arospec lesbian likes 80s pop music & typical girly ego boost stuff. stuff like Kate Bush, Lady Gaga & ABBA (she loves Babooshka by Kate Bush & Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking). not sure if she'd actually listen to any of her stuff, but K. Flay's music reminds me of her, specifically The President Has A Sex Tape. mommy issues queen. was in and out of foster care her entire childhood, only to end up back with her mom every time. she's extremely self-sufficient and refuses to rely or depend on anyone due to her childhood history of neglect. essentially raised herself. picked up smoking from her mother and absolutely hates it. she only falls back on nicotine when doing horribly. she carries cigarettes around with her on missions, just in case. has cherry blossom lip gloss and re-applies it religiously. has drop foot (i genuinely can’t think of any other sensible reason she’d always been wearing heels </3). used to like true crime when she was younger. she has issues identifying her feelings and honestly doesn’t care enough to work through them. she isn’t sure if she even likes some people at all. she can’t tell apart affection and finding someone useful. either way, she wants certain people around/safe and she isn’t sure why (Leon for example).

✧ chris redfield

cisgender & mlm canonically listens to Queen and is generally just a big music fan!! (him and Claire's "Made in Heaven" jackets + the Gibson Les Paul at his desk in the S.T.A.R.S. office :-)) listens to Queen, The Smashing Pumpkins, Fleetwood Mac, the Foo Fighters, (some) Nirvana, AC/DC, KISS, Van Halen, Iron Maden, Black Sabeth, The Fray, Failure, Kings of Leon & similar bands ^_^!! likely disabled after that TBI in Edonia (i'd imagine there'd be some long-term consequences from hitting ur head so hard u get amnesia for 6 months). total adrenaline junkie with a savior complex. has an extremely high pain tolerance. he cannot fucking hear oh my god... please get him a hearing aid its so bad. was the stereotypical overprotective brother when he and Claire were younger, always scaring the shit out of anyone she brought home. used to take her to junk yards for shooting practice (she shot herself in the leg once... oopsies!). probably smells like a dog & uses 4 in 1 shampoo. stinky vermin. can’t cook for the life of him; lives off microwaveable meals. surprisingly organized, considering how messy he used to be in his younger years. plays the guitar (canon) & has a Gibson. Shy about his singing voice, so it's rare to hear, but i'd imagine it sounds similar to Isaac Slade's (lead singer of The Fray), just a bit deeper/gruffier. extremely good with dogs - actually considered being a dog trainer when he was younger. has a German Shepherd & a Bernese Mountain Dog, both are extremely well trained. canonically hates the rich, and is anti-capitalist lol. it's likely he was discharged from the Air Force for talking back to his superiors. would be an amazing dad but is terrified of the idea of settling down. no matter how badly he wants to have a domestic life he doesn’t know how to adapt to it. has a matching tattoo with Claire!! ^_^

✧ albert wesker

aro/ase spec & pan has autism, ASPD, NPD & a god complex (he has no idea what most of those labels mean & sees any attempts at people diagnosing him as useless and a waste of time). sensory issues & sensitive eyes because of Uroboros (leads to overstimulation sometimes, which makes him even more of a grumpy bitch). has an insane skincare routine. listens to classical music & 80s crap. while he originally got with ms. Muller with the goal of having a child, Wesker was unaware of Jake's birth. he deemed her as suitable as she had desirable traits that he wanted to carry on but never knew she actually got pregnant. suppresses/ignores any sexual thoughts/urges he has, as he views sexual impulses as a weakness and looks down on it. he sees himself as better than the average person because of his ability to control this. walked on his toes as a kid. most lights are too bright for him (hence the sunglasses wearing indoors). gets extremely frustrated if his plants or routine get interrupted or even slightly changed. sits in a dark room to de stimulate when needed, sometimes he reads, other times he just zones out. weird about how he treats Neurotypical ppl lol (treats them as they would Neurodivergents; like his experiences are the social norm & any other way of living is alien and outlandish). doesn’t smoke often but when he does he prefers Camels or Marlboro Blues (again, i don’t smoke so idrk). speaks some German & Latin (Latin from virus names and yada yada sciencey stuff)

✧ jill valentine

cisgender & lesbian listens to riot grrrl music (bikini kill), Come, Deftones, System of a Down, Paramore, Drowning Pool, Slipknot, Depeche Mode, TOOL, Soundgarden, Papa Roach, Breaking Benjamin & similar bands while the S.D. Perry novels aren't canon i rlly like how they depicted her childhood (along with it being the only "official" backstory for her we have). the idea of her dad being a crime boss explains her knowledge of lock picking & ability to keep a level head. she definitely had a few run-ins with the law as a kid. she has a little sister. has a Russian Blue cat & her favorite fruit are pears. can speak some french, though not too well due to lack of use. she has fairly thick hair and an undercut that she refuses to have shaved professionally. she likes cutting her hair herself, and refuses to pay to have it done. normally she has a friend or whoever's available cut it for her in exchange for a couple bucks. still has blonde hair from re5, but dyes it (Wesker absolutely killed the melanin in her skin and hair). she has blonde streaks & roots due to lack of free time to re-dye. has heightened abilities from lingering effects of the P30 drug (strength, perception time, speed, etc.). has a permanent scar on her chest from the P30 device.

✧ claire redfield

cisgender & bisexual/lesbian listens to Queen (canon), Stevie Nicks, Heart, Led Zeppelin, the Runaways, KISS, Fleetwood Mac, AC/DC, Nirvana, Bon Jovi, No Doubt, Petal, The Killers, Jack Off Jill, The Smiths, Smashing Pumpkins & similar bands. Chris used to take her out to junkyards to practice shooting together (accidentally shot herself in the leg once after shooting at metal... oopsies :-)!!) dyes her hair auburn & hates wearing it down. has a crazy high pain tolerance (runs in the family) and used to get hurt a lot on accident as a kid (doing stupid shit like messing around with fire or blades). Autumn is her favorite season. messy, brash & assertive, & i’m sick of pretending she isn't </3. she was raised by Chris, no way is her room organized. has probably punched at least one person for saying some stupid bigoted shit. would be a great mom tbh. loves cherry-flavored stuff. has a matching tattoo with Chris!! ^_^

✧ ethan winters

transgender & bisexual autistic. has small nervous tics that come and go seemingly at random. not big on music. he just likes it as background noise. prefers instrumental music, like classical and jazz (somewhat canon), maybe a bit of dad rock. i think he'd like Earth Angel (Will You Be Mine) by The Penguins & Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? by She & Him! used to collect trading cards as a kid. he didn't exactly know how to play, he just liked how they look and feel. "standard" childhood, married middle-class parents with stable jobs yada yada yada. grew up in Texas (where he eventually met Mia) and spent a good portion of his life completely oblivious to the concept of being trans. once finding out he was trans he and Mia moved to California and he started T. talks to himself. could probably grow his limbs back starfish-style if he gave them enough time/didn't cover his fingers up with bandages (like Lucas did when Jack cut his arm off). has a favorite dinosaur. hates horror movies. so many movie & pop culture references... the dad jokes never end. 100% a reddit user. absolute sucker for compliments.

[moonrisecoeur]

compliance (how to brainwash your boyfriend) — leon kennedy

author’s note: this was written with re4r!leon in mind bc that’s my boyfriend! angel said so!! i have… so many hypno ideas, some considerably more palatable and some that are Much Worse, so pls let me know if you want more! also this is based off of an audio i listened to once by everdistant-utopia on reddit! the headset concept is kind of (extremely) goofy but i was into it idk. again, i'm aware that mind control isn't real and this is a silly ass concept. i had fun doing it anyway. no leons were hurt in the making of this fic. sorry for not posting it sooner even tho it was done i was extremely embarrassed lol. pls ignore any typos. love you!! thank u!!

wc: 5k

content: sub!leon x fem!reader, afab reader, oral reader receiving, orgasm control, mention of feet for like two seconds

warning: this is dark content. please do not read if the following topics are sensitive to you: noncon, hypnosis, mind control. i dont endorse or encourage this type of behavior irl, its just a fantasy!

—

as you walk down the street, you walk by a flier that’s sitting on the sidewalk. you don’t stop to read it, but one word caught your eye. mind control. it was probably something stupid, something completely made up by some lunatic who thinks mind control is real. mind control is maybe, technically real, in the ‘just relax and close your eyes, breathe deeply and let yourself be at peace’ kind of way. definitely not the ‘put on this headset and let me rewire your brain to make you my pet’ kind of way.

but… would it really hurt to look at the flier? you turn around to see it’s still there, and, against all your better judgment, you decide to walk up to it and pick it up.

it’s dirty, wet because of the rain from last night. even still, you can read the description of the advertised product clearly, along with some more info like a website and contact info for the designers. you take a brief moment to wonder who in the hell comes up with that stuff.

introducing you to the ultra brainwasher headset 3000! perfect for all of your mind control needs! simply place the device over the subjected head and choose what you’d like to do with them. need an obedient housewife? in search of a new pet? want them to be madly in love and obsessed with you? all of that and more is possible with the ultra brainwasher headset 3000! visit our website and order the headset today!

you blink. this is insane. who would do this? who would make this? why would anyone want to make someone do any of this against their will? you feel sick to your stomach as you crumple up the flier and toss it in the nearest trash can.

because that’s… that’s not consensual. that’s wrong in every possible way. unless they gave consent to be, what, turned into an ‘obedient housewife’? that’s really what it said? there’s just no way that’s right. how is that legal to sell? what even was that flier doing?

this feels like the kind of thing that would be sold on the black market, not openly advertised to people on the street. what if some lunatic saw it and just started brainwashing people? no one could stop them, it’s not exactly a crime in and of itself, and any crimes committed would be a little difficult to report if the ‘subject’ was too mindless to notice or to say anything.

whatever. you threw the flier away, you did your job as a good samaritan by tossing it so someone much much worse than you wouldn’t get a chance to look at it, and thus, you can forget all about the headset. pretend you never saw the flier or knew it existed and carry on with your life.

except, you can’t really. it permeates your thoughts, seeps inside of your subconscious until you begin to hypothesize that the headset wasn’t the real hypnosis, it was seeing that flier. you know you must be delusional. it’s not real, you’re not really mind controlled from just reading the flier, but… would it really hurt it buy it? you had the money for it and it’s not too expensive at all.

you hate yourself for it but you look on the website, just as hypnotic as the flier was, and you see multiple variations of the headset. some more suited towards different outcomes for ‘subjects’ and some just different stylistically.

you find the one you were looking at earlier. the ultra brainwasher 3000. it’s a stupid name, you’re aware. it just doesn’t really matter because who’s gonna know that you own this? you’ll keep it, maybe try it out on yourself to see what it’s like. you won’t do anything crazy, maybe like, hypnotize yourself to not be able to sit down until all your household chores are done, just for the day. the ultra brainwasher 3000 claims to have this functionality, and you’re… more or less, curious.

you order it and spend two weeks in absolute hell, making sure your boyfriend is never home alone when the package could arrive. you’re not worried he’d open it and see the device. he doesn’t look through your stuff, but the packing sticker ‘brainmelting industrial company’ would…. catch his eye for sure. try explaining that to your boyfriend, especially because even if you’re a good liar, you’re not to leon.

but, you get it, and it’s perfect because leon isn’t home right now, and you get to play with your new toy for a little bit. the box is smaller than you expected, only including the headset, a charging cord, and a set of instructions.

as you’re reading, the thought only just now hits you. it’s surprising that it’s taken you this long to have this idea, given how it would be someone else’s first instinct.

“should i…” you murmur to yourself, looking around nervously to see if anyone is in earshot, “… should i use this on leon..?”

i don’t know, should you use a mind control headset on your poor boyfriend that was just sent on a mission to save the fucking president’s daughter? maybe not.

you don’t know how it took you this long to come up with the concept. i mean, the flier did mention making someone your obedient housewife, but… they never said that someone had to be a girl…

it’s gross or actually more disgusting, honestly, how excited you get at the prospect of doing this to leon, but you decide that yeah, fuck it, you might as well brainwash your boyfriend. truthfully, what are the consequences? besides… ruining your relationship, betraying his trust, destroying him as a person… eh, it’s only temporary, right? there’s ways to make it only temporary.. and there’s no way he’d remember..

you fiddle with it, curious of all the different things you could do to him. the headset didn’t have presets, you could make up literally anything you wanted him to believe. you could make him the obedient housewife, but you could also make him a servant, maybe even dress him up all pretty as a maid. you could make sure of his loyalty and commitment, make him be so in love with you that even the thought of being with another woman makes him physically ill.

he gets home later that night, worn down and tired and exhausted in every possible way. and you know you’re going to have to put on your best acting skills. you’re not sure if you’re ready to do this, but you’re gonna have to be, so you press a sweet kiss to his lips, one he lingers on for just a moment too long. his lips chase after yours as his eyes open back up slowly, looking at you through his pretty lashes, an eyebrow raised, “what?”

you can’t help but adore him, his bluntness and gruff attitude, yet how soft he touches your waist as he pulls you closer. leon is nothing if not gentle and sweet, and you love that about him, “nothing, i just… i just wanted to look at you,” you say, and it reminds you just how easy leon is. just a couple of words and his eyes get a little glassy, his heart leaping out of his chest just a bit.

it sometimes helps that your boyfriend has been through every form of hell since that day in raccoon city, so sometimes just sweet words and little gestures get a bigger reaction than you’d expect. he’s traumatized and broken down, so the love you give him matters so much more.

in short, he’s easy. he gives in quickly and doesn’t like to fight, not with you. gives you everything you want, doesn’t protest, doesn’t ask for much besides your attention and love.

“you always stare at me,” he says awkwardly. god he’s so not charming that it makes him effortlessly likable.

that’s what’s so sucky about the idea of hypnosis. do you lose the person he used to be? sure, a mindless househusband would be great, helplessly obedient and passive and hardworking, but does this override his actual personality? that’s a bit too scary.

you make an effort to soak in these parts of his personality, enjoying every inch of his pretty little mind. you decide that no matter what you do to him, you can’t ruin him completely. you’d miss his heart, rough and guarded but nonetheless yours.

“i wanna try something,” you murmur to him, your heart pounding a little more than it should, “do you trust me?”

“of course i do,” he says. your heart almost aches, he trusts you so implicitly.

“close your eyes,” you say, and he complies easily.

you step away to grab the headset, and he’s so sweet and good that he doesn’t even peek. you take a deep breath, and commit to it.

you place it on his head, and he grumbles, but doesn’t object. poor thing. doesn’t even realize what’s happening to him.

—

the setting on the headset that you chose wasn’t anything flashy but it was labeled ‘semi-permanent’ and it stated that the subject would not remember anything from the moment of hypnosis to the moment they wake up next. so, all and all, even if you felt horrible, the damage wouldn’t be permanent, and leon wouldn’t even remember what happened.

truthfully, it felt like nothing could go wrong. it wouldn’t alter him too much, just… make him helplessly obedient for a couple hours. you could turn up the intensity if you wanted to, if it wasn’t quite enough to satisfy your curiosity.

you decide that it’s now or never, especially since being lost in your head while your boyfriend is cluelessly wearing what looks like a vr headset is kind of… odd.

you start the application, waiting for it to begin on his end.

“what are you up to?” he asks innocently, probably still not seeing anything while it loads. the question sounds like an accusation, but it’s really not. leon genuinely just wants to know what’s going on. it’s hard not to, but you don’t answer.

you notice the exact moment that it starts because grunts out of nowhere and his whole body tenses, and he clutches onto the fabric of the couch cushions, using that sense as a way to ground himself during an overload of audio and visual stimulation.

you reach to grab his hand, and his grasps yours tightly, desperately, as if physically pleading with you to make it stop.

you whisper to him, “shhh, nice and easy,” you’re not even sure if he can hear you, but you still feel the need to speak. you’re not sure if it’s your voice or your touch but he relaxes just slightly, his breath raggedy and tense. he’s trying like hell to keep himself together, but it’s so overwhelming that it’s hard for him to think, “hey… it’s okay. you’re okay, just… let it happen.”

a pathetic little whimper escapes his throat as his body goes slack, jaw hanging open and arms hanging limply by his sides, “wha… why?” his voice sounds small, weak, and if you weren’t so cruel, you’d immediately take it all back and apologize and just face the consequences.

but you’re too far deep to back out now, even if leon’s pitiful demeanor is almost swaying you to stop, you know you can’t. not now.

“i… i thought you…” he whines, body tensing and spasming as he tries to put some form of coherent thought together, “wha… why..?” he whimpers again, pathetically broken down in just a matter of minutes.

you sit there with him, holding his hand, waiting for the process to be done, and once it is, you take the headset off.

he seems agitated, but doesn’t seem to know what at. his muscles are tense, but he doesn’t make any sudden movements.

“hey,” you mutter gently, and he almost flinches at the sound, looking at you with those wide deer eyes again, scared. you reach out to touch his face, fingers caressing his cheek.

the cogs in his brain turn as he processes what’s happening, and the agitation seems to evaporate and become replaced by a sense of calm and relaxation. he looks into your eyes, and it seems like he’s deciding something.

“leon?”

“yes? how… can i serve you?” he asks, jaw dropping at his own words. he’s so stunned at what he’s saying and how he’s acting yet he can’t help it.

“…address me as… ma’am,” you say, and he shivers, eyes closing tensely as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on, “and go get me something. how about… a cup of coffee? yeah, let’s start there.”

it makes sense that he’s fading in and out, the programming would probably need more time to settle in before it was done and his personality obviously wouldn’t just disappear, but it was still a little bit heartbreaking to watch him fight the voice in his head that is desperate to obey you.

as he disappears into the kitchen, you sit where he was sitting on the couch to take a moment to think it all over.

leon has never been the most… dominant man. he has his moments of aggression and tension that turn into a roughness that his soul seems to often carry, but it’s never controlling. he’s not demanding, he asks nothing of you besides gracing him with your presence.

but due to his past, submission also doesn’t come easy to him. he likes to think he would lean more sub, just because he’s so malleable to your will, so easy to convince. anything you want is yours, and if you want his dignity laid out in the palm of your hand, then it’s yours to keep for eternity. he just struggles to fully give up control, especially since you know he’s not really had much of that in his life.

you kept his personality intact for the most part, but… he just seems so different. he responds pretty much the same, talks the same, acts the same. something just doesn’t seem right.

“here’s the coffee you asked for,” he mutters when he returns, his voice gruff but soft at the same time. he’s… definitely conflicted. the implanted urge to obey you mindlessly and the natural urge to protect his self-respect are fighting in his head. you watch curiously to see which will win.

leon has been through hell, and you can always see it when you look into his eyes. he’s been controlled by the government, a puppet on their strings, since he survived that night in raccoon city. he must be used to a lack of control in his life. but now he’s your puppet, and you have no interest in using him as a killing machine. you have… different plans for him.

“thanks,” you whisper, and he nods, quiet but obedient. just how you wanted him. he stands there beside you, not really knowing what to do with himself as you take a sip, “rub my feet now.”

“..what?”

“you heard me,” you say. and he did.

something in his stomach sinks at the command, a feeling of urgency to do as you say fills his entire being, but it just feels so wrong to him. you’re never this brazen, this demanding.

“come on, leon,” you say, almost condescendingly, pointing to the floor right in front of the couch, “on… your… knees.”

he breathes shakily, but kneels down in front of you, avoiding eye contact as he gives you your damn foot massage. there’s turmoil in his head, easily seen by that deer-like look in his eyes as he stares wide-eyed at the ground. despite his roughness, he’s always had these soft, fragile eyes, reminding you of who he really is. it would be truly heartbreaking to watch him go through this if it also wasn’t incredibly attractive to put him on his knees and order him around.

leon has always been relatively compliant, but now it’s on a whole other level. anything you ask for, despite some inner conflict, he’ll do. you wonder just how far you could push him, but… you don’t decide to test that just yet.

for a few minutes, or however long it takes for you to finish your coffee, you sit there with him. his touch is good but not very skilled. he gets the tension and soreness out though, and you’re sure you could train that into him over time.

“take off your shirt,” you say, and his throws off his t-shirt easily. it lands in the corner unimportantly, and your smirk radiates confidence and something else much more sinister, “stand up, bend over in front of me.”

he closes his eyes tightly, clearly fighting that inner battle but the part of him desperate to get away and to not obey you is losing. he slowly rises to his feet and does as you ask. he places his hands on the coffee table, legs spread slightly like he already knows what’s about to happen. funny, because he doesn’t seem to know much of anything right now.

you stand up, hands touching all over him but particularly grasping at his ass, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers and enjoying the way his muscles flex, tightening and hardening when you grab him, “you never let me spank you,” you muse, almost annoyed, “i get it. you get nervous with power play and letting me dom you or whatever, but i always wanted to hit it just once. just to satisfy the curiosity of what it would be like.”

your hand pulls back and slams against his butt with a loud smacking noise. he gasps, breathing out shakily after the hit, “i… i’m sorry, ma’am.”

“but now that we’re here… and i’ve already got a taste, i don’t think i ever want to stop. so, from now on, no more of that. if i want to slap your ass, i’m going to,” you murmur, “and you will not try to stop me or convince me not to.”

“i.. i…” he whimpers, and for a second you pause, nervously that the real leon, somehow deep down, heard that, “… yes, ma’am.”

“good,” you mutter, slapping it again, feeling the hit in your hand as you pull away, and if you can feel it so clearly then you’re sure he can, “now, be polite and say ‘thank you’. thank me for teaching you how to correctly behave.”

“tha… thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, eyes shutting slowly as his deep inner need to resist is weakening.

“i own you now,” you groan, grasping at his hips posessively, mouth pressing open kisses to his bare shoulder, “no, i… have always owned you. owned your body, you just didn’t realize it.”

he nods, incredibly turned on. his body aches to be claimed, to be made yours.

sure, leon has always been yours, but his body has been purely his. he’s… cautious with it. he’s been more or less just too busy for romantic partners, but somehow you snuck your way into his life and he happily lets you stay. he just… is slowly learning to trust you with himself.

he can do easy, comfortable, casual sex. what he can’t do is hand himself over to you like this, helplessly obedient, submissive in every possible way. as much as leon doesn’t have the energy to fight, tired and worn down, fighting is all he know.

your nails drag against the skin of his torso and back, leaving pretty red lines wherever they go, “no more fighting. no more stressing about it. all you have to do is be mine, unequivocally.”

“i… i am..” he mumbles, and you tilt your head, eyeing him curiously. he notices, shying away, “i… i am yours. unequivocally. you can… you can have me.”

manhandling has always been a little difficult, considering leon is all muscle and he’s a sturdy guy, but you spin him at the hips to face you, and he’s effortlessly moved, “can i… have your body just as much as i have your heart?”

“yes, i… yes, ma’am, it’s yours. do whatever you want with it, ma’am,” he says, a slight daze in his eyes, clearly he’s not all the way there. he's trying. he’s still so soft, so tender and malleable, so leon.

you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, and he melts into your touch, hands grasping him roughly, in a way that might hurt anyone else, but leon is strong. sure, your touch is bruising him, but… he doesn’t have enough

of his mind left to be bothered.

lips trail down his neck and shoulder, but move back up to his ear, sucking on his skin in a vampiric manner. you whisper to him, “you’re gonna only focus on my pleasure.”

“i… i am? i… i am…” he stutters, god it’s so damn cute.

“of course you are. you’d rather eat me out than have an orgasm yourself, wouldn’t you? if i was a crueler person, i would find a way to mind control your orgasms away completely. that way you could… focus on my pleasure, but i’m not that mean.”

he shudders, your lips pressing to the sensitive spot underneath his ear, teeth dragging down his skin, teasing him, taunting him.

“you wanna eat now?” you ask, lips pressed to his collarbone now, and he moans out an affirmative. you suck a hickey against the skin right atop of the bone, admiring the redness, the way you get to watch it turn a disgusting shade of purple. one that should make you nervous to have done to him, only turns you on.

instead of ordering him into his knees this time, you just push him, easily putting his head between your legs. his hands come up to hold your thighs, steadying himself as you half-stand half-sit on the counter. he pulls your pants down enough , but can’t even be bothered to take off your panties, just pushing them to the side.

“can.. i, ma’am?”

you chuckle, not really expecting him to be so polite, “go for it, sweet thing.”

he leans in, pressing a teasing kiss to your clit, just once, before his tongue meets your folds and he licks and sucks like tomorrow won’t come but he’ll make sure you will. he groans into your pussy like he’s the one being pleasured, and that honestly seems like a fair comparison. sure, he was physically pleasing you, but even just the act of giving oral is making his head spin with a satisfaction he has never felt before. he could get high off of this.

leon has always been good at giving head. much better than just good. he’s incredible. it’s the one thing where he can fully just zone out. if you’re too lost in your own pleasure, then you can’t focus on him and how he’s feeling, and there’s something oddly safe about the feeling of being, for all intents and purposes, alone with his thoughts. eating your pussy just comes so natural that it’s second nature.

but now? he can’t get lost in his thoughts if he doesn’t have any. doesn’t mean he’s enjoying it any less. he’s enjoying anything you ask him to do. you could tell him to go fold your laundry and then clean your bathroom and do your dishes and he’s do everything diligently and he’d be satisfied the whole time. god, maybe you do really want a househusband. besides, leon could use the emotional break from his job. he’s content enough serving you.

he makes you cum sooner than you expected, but it’s literally just because he’s that good with his tongue, and when he moved one his hands from your thigh to press two fingers into your cunt, fingering you in thick circular motions as he sucked on your clit, you were gone.

he continues, wet fingers gushing in a fast rhythm as you orgasm, grinding against his mouth, using him completely for your own pleasure. it was always a secret fantasy of his, and now it’s reality, even if his mind isn’t all the way there and the only thoughts running through his head are is she pleased with me? did i do a good job? do i deserve her praise? i should do better next time. i should serve her better. i only want to serve her.

and now that he’s completely helpless, servitude being the only concept he can comprehend, and you come down from a high so intense it took you a second to remember that leon was waiting patiently for your next command, next order.

“put… put me on the couch…” you gasp out in heavy breaths.

he’s strong, and he helps to guide you to the couch, body still part paralyzed from such an intense pleasure. you lay there, still breathing a little heavy.

“go get dressed and cleaned up…” you mutter to him, “and then come back out here and cuddle up next to me.”

he does as you ask, finding his clothes and getting dressed again, and then when he approaches the couch again, you reach out your arms for him. the smile he gives you is almost too real. too… really leon. you still feel that twinge of nervousness in your gut, but then he lays against you, head tucked into the crook of your neck, and you know he doesn’t know. for all that he’s good at, leon’s not a great actor.

you reach your hand up to run your fingers through his hair repeatedly, soft and soothing motions to lull him into a state of compliance.

“you’re mine,” you whisper, hoping he’ll confirm it back.

of course he does, softly, no longer feeling conflicted, “yours, ma’am.”

“you’ll be obedient and submissive from now on,” your voice is soft but carries a dominance he doesn’t quite think he could ever escape nor would he ever want to.

“i’ll be.. obedient and submissive.”

“you’ll only focus on my pleasure,” you say, knowing he’ll repeat it back obediently just like the ones previous, but you feel his rock hard cock against your leg and as much as you want to shove his cock inside of you in an instant, you can’t help but want to control him like that. keep his orgasms just out of reach until he goes mad from the teasing and edging you plan to do to him. keep him nice and horny and desperate, just how you like him. if he wasn’t submissive enough for you before, he is now.

“only yours, only ever yours, please…” his voice is soft and meek and god if you wanted to you could find a mind control that was permanent and just… leave him like this forever. let him take care of your home and future kids and do your household chores and tasks. keep him completely obedient, god it would be…

“you can’t resist,” you whisper, leaning into his hair,

resting your head against his in a soft intimate moment, “i can’t resist, ma’am.”

you nod gently, and after a moment, you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “i’m.. i love you, leon. sorry about all of this..”

“… why are you apologizing, ma’am?” he asks, tilting his head slightly even in your grasp to show confusion. he really is just like a little puppy sometimes.

“you know.. about the mind control.”

he shrugs, the most unbothered happy smile on his face, “oh, that’s.. that’s okay, i’m fine with it. i.. already belonged to you.”

“but that was in a more… romantic way. an ‘i belong with you’ kind of way. not the kind i did to you,” you say, just a tinge of guilt holding you back, but you push it aside, “it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. i just.. just know i love you. even when i’m ordering you around.”

“i’ll remember that, ma’am,” he smiles up at you just a little softer, just a little more like his true self, just a little more leon. that heavy feeling of guilt in your gut will never quite go away, will it?

you fall asleep on the couch together, knowing or maybe just hoping you’ll wake up to leon not remembering anything. hopefully he doesn’t piece together that he has no memory of you giving him that hickey and those bruises on his hips were definitely not his job's doing.

—

you wake up to a fond smell of breakfast and a bright morning, sitting up off the couch as you look at your phone. leon’s not laying there next to you, which is odd but not completely uncommon. sometimes he goes out in the morning to work out or disappears in the middle of the night when he’s needed somewhere, but most of the time, and today included, he’s just in the kitchen.

you find him there, standing in front of the coffee pot, and you walk up to him to wrap your arms around his midsection, softly burying your face into his back to shyly hide from his gaze.

“awh, morning lovebug,” his sweet raspy morning voice says to you, a hand on your arms, holding you tight so there’s not even a chance you could let go, “missed ya yesterday. did you sleep alright?”

“...mhm,” you hum, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder blade.

it’s a sweet moment, full of love and warmth and tenderness and you could have almost forgotten what you did to leon last night had the smell of coffee not been hanging in the air. but hey, at least he doesn’t remember what really happened, though he’s kind of confused just how he forgot how he got all of these bruises and scratches.

[doctorofmagic]

Upcoming confirmed appearances: April solicitations + next books

We're eating good!!

Doctor Strange of Asgard #2 (of 5)

Derek Landy (W) • Carlos Magno (A) • COVER BY GEOFF SHAW

VARIANT COVER BY GODTAIL • VARIANT COVER BY DAN PANOSIAN

MARVEL UNIVERSE CONNECTING VARIANT COVER D BY CHRIS GIARRUSSO

MARVEL UNIVERSE CONNECTING BLUE LINE SKETCH VARIANT COVER D BY CHRIS GIARRUSSO

• Doctor Strange went to Asgard to become its Sorcerer Supreme. But now he’s covering up a murder – one that Thor would be furious to hear about. And as if that isn’t enough, it turns out Asgardian landlords also charge rent.

• Strange will have to find a killer – and a job – while gaining mastery over Asgardian magic, dodging Thor’s mounting suspicions and evading mysterious assassins. Maybe moving to the Land of the Gods wasn’t such a good idea…

32 PGS./Rated T+ …$4.99

Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur #1 - 10th Anniversary Special

BRANDON MONTCLARE & JUSTINA IRELAND (W) • NATACHA BUSTOS & LUCA CLARETTI (A)

Cover by NICK BRADSHAW • Variant Cover by NATACHA BUSTOS

VARIANT COVER BY Anand Ramcheron

HAPPY 10th BIRTHDAY, LUNELLA!

• It’s a birthday celebration a decade in the making, and the whole MARVEL UNIVERSE is invited!

• But MOON GIRL is bringing her own agenda to the party – what could her secret plans be?

• The mischievous IMPOSSIBLE MAN threatens to upend the festivities – unless LUNELLA can rally her guests the way only the SMARTEST PERSON IN THE MARVEL U can!

• PLUS: Who is DEVIL GIRL AND MOON DINO?!

32 PGS./ONE-SHOT/Rated T …$4.99

Hulk & Dr. Strange #1 (one-shot)

Coming next May!

BONUS

Incredible Hulk #24

PHILLIP KENNEDY JOHNSON (W) • NIC KLEIN (A/C) • VARIANT COVER BY TBA

MARVEL VS. CAPCOM VARIANT COVER BY BENGUS

MARVEL UNIVERSE CONNECTING VARIANT COVER E BY CHRIS GIARRUSSO

MARVEL UNIVERSE CONNECTING BLUE LINE SKETCH VARIANT COVER E BY CHRIS GIARRUSSO

VARIANT COVER BY DOALY

MUSCLE VS. MAGIC!

The newly returned Bruce Banner leads Charlie to New York City to seek an audience with DOCTOR STRANGE…but are met instead by someone they don’t expect! When a magic rite goes horribly wrong, can Banner put aside his terror of Hulk…and will Hulk put aside his hatred of Banner in order to save them? Leads straight into Incredible Hulk #25, featuring a fan-requested “Hulk Vs.” rematch for the ages!

32 PGS./Rated T+ …$3.99

----

There's also a mention in Kid Juggernaut's reprint series but (SPOILER) that's not the real Stephen so I'm skipping this one.

[qvrcll]

Hi! So I love your blog and I have a request if you're up for it!

So imagine Vendetta!Leon or ID!Leon with a younger, Rookie D.S.O agent. So the reader is learning about what it takes to be an agent and they are skilled but a little reckless. The reader and Leon end up going on a mission together and something happens to where the reader does something risky/reckless to save Leon and afterwards while Leon is patching them up he's also scolding them for putting themselves into a dangerous situation...

I just thought it was a cute idea and I adore your blog so obviously no pressure and thank you regardless! :)

change

summary: training to be a d.s.o agent has its perks and its fair share of dangers, and who would know that best other than the acclaimed leon s. kennedy? former rookie cop turned myth, you’re troubled as you try to not question your worth to your duty — to him.

warnings: intense violent imagery, d.s.o. agent reader, talk of death / loss, talk of wounds / stabbing, weapons mentioned, angst (comfort i swear!!!!!!!), written with infinite darkness ! leon in mind

a/n: bam stop using deftones songs as titles FAILED. and hello??? ur mind??? revolutionary. but thank u so much for the request!! i did make it more angsty than intended 😭 but happy ending i swear !! this is just a general disclaimer, but i’m trying my best to get as many requests done as possible, but finding myself easily burnt out, so please bare with me if i take some time to get these pieces out!! enjoy :-)

word count: 3.5k+ (help)

You’re well put together — inundated at the seams and bursting in the areas that made you an excelling recruit, something of a common place practice when one gets appointed to a station as alpine as the D.S.O.

It’s gruelling at first. The training, not the people — the people here offer you awkward but veritable grins, cloying pats on the head when you’d surpassed a notable fix in your inculcation, maybe even conversation in places you’d expect hard worn expressions, bumps of the shoulders, a lack of acquiescence for a new comer such as you.

“Turns out, there’s a new donut place opening in the city” someone speaks through a mouthful of food, grinning when admonished by their peer. They look at you with tired yet cordial won eyes, something like a respite in comparison to the gruelling training and pains you endure in staple hours.

You laugh, craning backwards, replying “Really? Wanna go sometime?”

And they teem, sheen with surety as you set a date. The date passes and you’ve got your fridge brimmed with donuts — pastel, sugar coated and chockfull of profuse fillings.

You’re home. You’re staring at your laptop. The device whirrs with effort, the screen fulgent with simulated light as block words stare back at you — MULTIPLE KILLED IN GOVERNMENT ORDAINED PROJECT. SEVERAL INJURED.

The next day, you press your lips together and wait for the space ahead to be filled with a familiar face, some day old blistering talk about donut shops and parties and mandated leaves.

No one comes. You chew your bread in wanton silence.

And your days blur as usual — your attitude is unparalleled. You give yourself the credit for coarsening against such losses, of confidants who offered you their time and remaining nuance of sentience. You don’t, however, congeal like they do. You do not die or recoup.

You move senselessly and so do the days.

It’s several months later, when you’ve gathered yourself in the training room, greased with sweat and vigour, when you meet him.

Leon S. Kennedy, in the flesh.

There’s talk of him in the corridors, rumours of his barely capricious resolve and even more so of his loyalty to the D.S.O. Of his habitual reclusiveness, ordained leaves and near blank appearances.

He’s almost a myth.

Still, you’re real and working and need to cavort around your training till your muscles bleed and chalk up with pain that marks enough effort for the night — you do not want to stay a rookie forever. There’s a insecurity underscored in your brain somewhere, in bright red lines and despite the sweat of your skill in your hands, but you decide to delineate it for tonight. Try to focus on the knotty feel of the compress against your knuckles as you strengthen your feet, begin to get into a stance most up to par, a gracing thought of ‘please don’t break my bones’ pressed into the bean bag before—

“Hello?”

The addition of another voice, besides the earsplitting one in your mind, makes you falter. Makes you lose your footing and touch the target in front of you, rather than skirting it with a hard worn touch — the sight would’ve made you chuckle on a normal day. But today was not normal, it was marked with a accent of irresolutions. So you swivel on your feet, baring your teeth like the caitiff the D.S.O had disillusioned everyone into being. The pretence doesn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, but you give it a try.

And maybe you give yourself some credit, for stoking it up to the myth, the caricature of duty himself, Leon Kennedy. In the flesh, complexion enervated in his well earned stack of muscle, that seemed to be garbed with a leather jacket. Jeans.

How… normal.

You lose tension in your muscles. Ditch the shout in your brows. Abandon the faux, heavy lined bellicosity in your belly for curiosity. Some guilt and embarrassment, too.

“Leon S. Kennedy?” you gasp, feel the air hit your tongue. The room grows a faltering few degrees hotter, and some part of you is convinced you’ll sink into the floor in a matter of minutes.

But Leon offers you one of his complimentary smiles that scream business. His hands are discarded in the wide sinews of his jeans, where they are distracted and nonplussed with the goal of hurting the material with diverted fingers. Yet you linger ahead of him, visibly sweaty and awkward, and it blunders his heart with some peace that you’re biding that same level of awkwardness.

“In the flesh,” he jokes, but the room is too small, too dark to determine tone. To determine the weight of his words or his presence. You still find sentience in you to laugh, snort even, and it makes the air between a lot more genuine, “I’ve come to discuss something here with you.”

“With me?” you croak, not wanting to sound delirious but inevitably falling for the trap — what did the Leon Kennedy want to do with a single recruit that is you? Skilled, yes, but sharing the innumerable roster of missions as him? Not a chance. Still, you grab a towel and a bottle of water, finding rhythm in your step as you talk alongside him to the exit.

Slogging be damned.

He offers a small nod, resigned in a way that made sense to the both of you, “We’re to be assigned in a collaborative project. A mission, if you will,” he opens the door, allows you to step past the threshold first and doesn’t miss the way you flesh out with a terrible blush as you skitter ahead, “Nothing too out of the ordinary for agents like you and me. Just a simple clear up.”

But we are nothing alike, you want to ink the air with the words. And some part of you stiffens as you hear the intractable comparison. Still, you’re curious above all things else and hear him out — not that I can refuse, you add mentally. Scribble out with imaginable red ink.

“When will it be?” you ask, feet jittery and muscles still sheening.

“A month from now” he confirmes. You work to notice the exigent lines of wear and tear on his face, the follow of a stubble beginning to thread against his chin and jaw. The sharpness giving way to kindness in his eyes as he looks at you.

Oh god, he’s looking at you.

“I see,” you say, gaze falling to the gravel and spit of stone as you corner the exit. As the wind hits your skin, you’re pathetically assuming a shiver. You hope Leon isn’t as perceptive as the rumours pin him to be, but you never truly get anywhere with that wish — he places a warm, kind hand on your shoulder, “You’re freezing.”

“Yeah I should probably—“

“Get back?”

“Home, yeah.”

And an awkward, painfully annoying silence courses the space between you two — between you and this acclaimed proxy you barely knew prior to these graceless seconds. The better part of you ushers the thought away and the worse part of you is antsy to prove something — anything.

“Get home safe…” he offers some semblance of a tight lipped smile, again as reclusive as he can get. His back is turned to you, departing, and you’re pulled in the other direction by your feet, when you suddenly turn around.

He’s gone already.

The month beneath his guidance is as you expect it — resilient and tough on the flesh. He manoeuvres you in ways you’d never have begun to correct yourself (“Lift the end of your arms here, instead of down here.”)

He presses feeling and rigour to his praise (“That’s it — you got it. Good job — now give me 20 more.”)

He holds you back from splintering push forwards, from the bridge between you and your apex. Holds a hand against your wet shoulder to shoulder your eagerness (“Woah, woah — don’t get too ahead of yourself.”)

You make it known of your gratefulness. You buy takeout and share it on the stairs. You communicate your worries and walk out free of them.

You also hate him for rubbing raw of your potential. You hate him for the wounded look in his eyes when you falter. You hate him for the itch in his fingers when you push yourself some more.

But you keep that one for the shadows. Don’t make it known. Hide it behind falsity.

You share takeout on the stairs again.

The night before the assignment couldn’t be more gruelling.

You’re welcome by the sheets, yet find no recluse in them, as you twist and turn as the hours come. Your feet are stretched and throbbing with hurt from the range of pushing exercises from the day before, your fingers curling with effort only.

And your head is plagued. Swimming, bathed, with those reticent thoughts. Those same block letters that spoke back to you, flagged the death of thousands you knew from passing glances to remembered conversations.

You turn on your side, try to flush the thought away. But they come back with vigour, with spit.

You knew them.

You’d eaten with them.

You’ll die just the same.

Fuck this.

Your feet find the cold, hard-wood floors immediately. They’re a ridged comparison to the heat of the sheets, but a blistering reminder of what’s to come tomorrow. You pace your apartment, crowd your brain with tasks, busy your hands, till the sun flits past the clouds like routine.

And with your heart in your throat, you ready yourself to the chin, gripping yourself with the promise of doing what you must to euchre death on its own doorstep — both for you and Leon.

The day arrives with a quick start. You’re deployed in a vehicular that is smaller than anticipated, holding your fears in your hands with cupped palms. Leon sits beside you, eyes vacant of anything palpable. You’d talked once, but that’s all of what either of you offered each other up till now — now, it’s you and your fears, cut-throat and fusty, ahead of you.

A thought of your friend passes your mind.

A thought of the donut shop.

A thought of the bottom of your coffee cup.

A thought of the post-mortem images. Of the flesh. The blood. The time. The place.

“Remember,” Leon cards you out of your worst, thoughts crumbling against themselves as you swivel to glance at him, “on me at all times. No sudden moves. Got it?”

He is far more profound here, the spitting image of the rumours materialised into the skin of a battle worn agent — his tone is pebbly, no semblance of that night’s patience in it anymore.

He’s in it for good. And you should be too.

“Got it,” you reply when the seconds flow too far. He nods back, curt and sharp and you want to talk him up. Want to offer your share of strategies. Want to card through the wounds on your arm and how to avoid the bloody things. Want to loop your fingers through half of his experience and not want to set him back.

But it was never that simple. And the ride is just as silent.

Two hours in and you’re stationed against crumbling brick, jagged stone, MK-45 gripped tightly in your hands. The smell of rot, mycelium, abused your lungs. Makes you stagger forward and hold yourself by the seams like flesh on plying bone.

But when you look at Leon, he’s everything but as discomposed as you — his eyebrows are tightly drawn, a shadow to his eyes that wasn’t there prior. There’s a bite in his step, in the way he holds his weapon, in the way he surveys the area.

Get yourself together, you think.

Within minutes, you force yourself to straighten your back, swallow back the burdensome bile stretching against your mouth and prime yourself to the futile smell of the dead at every carrefour you cross.

“Ahead,” Leon speaks and clings to your attention.

You look ahead, noticing an array of groaning zombies clawing at a car that seemed to have initiated its alarm. The smell is amplified by the rub of petrol curdling out of the car (from the repeated clash of the zombies, you’re sure) and you frustrate yourself into not gagging — think ‘fucking hell, I really hate these things.’

“You go to the left, I’ll take the right,” Leon whispers and you realise his motive.

Mutual accomplishment built on the precipice of trust.

Still, he looks at you like he’ll splinter without a response.

Like he relies on this circulation, no matter how damning, how short. His eyes scream ‘don’t you dare do anything stupid’ and you choose to blur it into something nonsensical, a thought of ‘it’s common procedure, a set of instructions he needs to hand feed me’, choosing to ignore the obvious side of things, the bleeding flush of his words, the trepidation nailing every withering seam of his body.

He’d grown to interpret you as more than just a rookie, someone capable of vigour and strength of the winning.

He needed you alive.

You needed him to look at you other than a wounded animal.

You offer him some little nod, feet hurrying up to the fluster of zombies against the few cars gathered there — as you get close, you can see the vegetation cram against the side walk, the stink of flesh against the windshield.

But you’re skilled, not stupid.

Your weapon purrs with warmth in your hand as you pin down the first vier, working your second round of bullets with the other five you’ve attracted— their fractured groans are animalistic, orotund where human capability shouldn’t be.

But you’re twice the work than they ever are.

“Fuck,” you whisper, realising close proximity doesn’t hold up with your choice of weapon — so, working against better judgement, you retrieve your knife by the hilt, scoring it against the reeking flesh of the first two. You quickly gain footing and stab the other two point black in the skull, feeling the vibrating collusion fill the blade.

And you’re close — you feel it. With another plow, the last of them falters to the floor with a wet thump. Blood pools at your feet, curdles against the material of your boot as you curl a hand against your hip in weariness.

And yet, you have half the nerve to concern yourself with Leon.

As you turn, you quickly see that he is struggling. He’s cornered, stuck between a stretch of the building that allows a swift gateway of those creatures to buckle within arm’s reach. And there’s little solace as you learn the fact, as you ready your weapon — you’re aiming before you can think, firing before you can feel.

Leon spots you, as his jaw goes slack.

His voice is swollen with disbelief and you’re sure you catch the words “get out of here!” but you’re moving on the pure pump of your blood, of the stretch of muscle and skill in your body. Two, three, four enemies crumble at the bite of your bullet and your fingers sink against the sting of gunmetal.

Memorise the step of their movements.

Formulate an opening.

Ignore Leon’s snare and his warnings and the way his arms curl around his weapon and the look in his eye and the fickle hope in them and the way they look at you like you’re something wounded.

Ignore the way a grunt sounds in your ear, a pale and cleft palm clinching your shoulder like an orifice — and finally, you realise, Leon had been right.

The zombie is quick to remind you of your mortality — it swings you to the side with it’s astounding asperity, frightens you with the dexterity of its bones as it makes quick work of the distance between you. It’s teeth stitch against cold bone, blood and meat between the gaps.

You gasp out a hoarse cry — your weapon is out of reach and your arm stings with a burn, a swelter. Your leg feels numb and you’re sure you’ve caught it on something, and you’re convinced you’ll be half mauled to death, when suddenly,

“Shit!”

Leon rattles through the zombie towering you, sears it with a knife — it falls atop you like meat and you shove it off with awfully numb hands. You’re barely catching respite as Leon hauls you above his shoulder as he runs to some place else, and the world quickly melts beneath your eyelids.

The next time you’re conscious, it’s much quieter.

There’s a dripping noise from your right — you try to play with that recurring sound till you’ve figured your bearings, but the throb in your head is searing. Your leg jumps with a pain so awful you choke a cry when you’re all opened eyed and slack jaw, and you catch sight of Leon in front of you, balancing your leg atop his lap for inspection.

“L-Leon?” you gasp, feel the burn of your throat. You’ve said nothing but he quickly hands you a water bottle, and you allow yourself the contents almost immediately — “Where are we…?”

“A few ways off the target location. Recuperating,” he answers, too quick, too harsh. You wince, both from his demeanour and the growing image of your maimed leg — the skin is dented with much blood, the flesh peeling apart with ease and the pain hits you like a train. His fingers are trembling and spat with your blood, moseying around the quiver of the wound.

And you can’t figure out where your pain ends and where his anger begins.

For one, there’s some grip to his movement, in the way he bandages the broken flesh of your leg. The way he swats your hand away when you go to dictate the amount of hurt it would bring.

Only then does he look up and your breath hitches — his eyes are red rimmed, mouth set like hard stone in a frown and his jaw sharp, blistering to a furious degree.

“I’m sorry—“

“Are you? Because you would’ve been dead without me having been there” he spits out, lashing against your apologetic words. You press your lips together, a bitter feeling fermenting in every space your framework can produce.

“I said I’m sorry Leon.”

“Will that fix your wound?” He grates and his voice sounds like a threat. It worries you. It angers you. Its rends you like glass, cuts you like a skiver.

“Maybe if you didn’t look at me like a fucking wounded animal, I would quit taking my chances at dying” you force out, tone through clattering teeth when his fingers pause over that delicate and awfully repulsive spot on your leg.

“What?”

“Oh, please don’t play pretend with me Leon,” it’s your turn to hit the brakes, “It’s that look you give me — like I’m some backwater D.S.O rookie here to drag you through glass. Like—Like I’m here to get myself killed.”

You pause, breath cut short with an unsatisfactory cry as you throw your head back from the gushing pain from the wound. You crack open a weary eye to spot his movements have resumed, but his jaw is quivering, jagged, his eyes unfocused and his hair in his face.

Shit, shit, shit — I’ve really done it now.

“Wait, Leon—“

“Is that what you think this is?”

You blink — his fingers are on the ground beside your hips, his eyes flooded with disbelief. Much like earlier, only this time, it’s counterpart being woe instead of anger of disappointment. He lifts his head, cradles the anguish in his eyes with a tattered sigh and you realise, oh. You had it all wrong.

“That you’re just some agent I don’t care about?” he’s close, somehow, “that—that I care for you out of duty?” closer, now, with his breath on your neck, on your face, in your ear, “That I don’t want you gone so soon because I only tolerate you? Not because—I like you?”

Your anger drops its futile act.

“What?” you whisper, because you’re so beguiled that it’s a trick. A trick from the pump of adrenaline in you, from the fear. The sweat. But he’s looking into you, at you, and his stare is not sympathetic. It stinks of love and admiration and truth and some close call of fear.

“I’m saying that I like you.”

There’s a few moments of clouded breath. You’ve never done this before — never held this song and dance of emotion between another and certainly not at a time like this, but god, Leon looks at you like you’re something to be worshipped, not admonished like the wounded thing that you are.

He looks at you like hope.

Like love and love and love.

And you’ve never appreciated the stench of rot on you or another, and you’ve never appreciated distractions. But the burn of his lips against yours is delicious and swirling with something addictive when you meet him with nothing but rigour — he kisses you back like he’s meant to, like he’s going to run out of you if he doesn’t.

And when you pull away, groaning as your leg spasms with hurt, you smile at him gently, curve a laugh from your overworked lungs.

“Buy me dinner first, Kennedy.”

“Kennedy?”

“Would you prefer Scott?”

“God, you’re awful.”

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