#leon i can’t escape you can i

[savolicious]

last night I had a dream where it was the first trial in danganronpa one except leon wasn’t be charged for murder but instead they were calling him the imposter and when the voted him out he transformed into lucifer from hazbin hotel. he actually looked like a biblically accurate angel mixed in with lucifer though. everyone was so angry for some reason. then leon, (lucifer) hifumi, and makoto went to that one public bathroom roblox game and just kinda walked around. best dream I had in awhile.

[thedeadestartist]

To escape a time loop, the witch demands virgin blood. And well, everyone thinks they know who the virgin of the group is. And they're wrong – or are they?

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“Are you completely sure they are to be trusted, Merlin? What if the witch goes back on their word!” Arthur exclaimed.

He was frustrated. But so too were the knights and Merlin. They had been wandering a neverending woodland path for what had felt like hours. After all, why would they give in to a witch’s demands before exhausting every option?

“No, Arthur!” Merlin snapped. “I am not sure we can trust them at all, but what other option do we have at this point?”

Merlin was the first to notice that they’d been looping the same path several times over, before any of the knights. This sort of magic was something he had seen before, and he knew it was the type of curse that was near impossible to break from inside the incantation area. In his mind, the witch’s words repeated endlessly.

When the knights had come across the witch, they were simply sitting by a humble campfire, watching a pot of water with herbs and leaves boil over. Of course, Gwaine had been desperate enough to accept a drink from this total stranger. And after just one sip, the witch had risen to their feet and laughed – a sound so shrill and chilling.

“And thus, thou, King of Camelot and thyne beloved knights of the round table are cursed to wander these woods for the rest of time. The world shall continue on without thee as thy kingdom crumbles. But do not despair, men of the sword. Lest you bring me 9 drops of a virgin’s blood, I shall grant thee freedom once more.”

“Alright, bickering will get us nowhere!” Leon interrupted. “Even if we were to do what the witch asks, where are we going to find a virgin in these woods if it simply keeps repeating itself?”

Percival quickly quipped, “Well, what about one of us?”

An abrupt silence descended upon the men as they exchanged glances.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve never seen a woman within five feet of Merlin,” Elyan spoke.

The rest of the knights turned their faces towards Merlin.

Arthur smirked.

“Well go on then, Merlin. If you really think we can trust the witch, then go ahead. 8 drops of blood is barely much of a sacrifice.”

Merlin grit his teeth. It was true that he had never been… intimate with any of the ladies he had admired. But he had a feeling deep down that something was wrong. Was it because he had the blood of a sorcerer? Would it potentially backfire – put them in danger?

As he racked his brain, he heard the familiar metallic rush of a sword being drawn.

“Gwaine, what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur said firmly, as Gwaine drew his sword.

“What, he needs a blade if he’s gonna bleed, right?”

“And you think a sword is a good idea? What if he accidentally impaled himself?” Arthur barked.

The king quickly drew his dagger and handed it very carefully into the hands of his servant. Gwaine rolled his eyes and put his sword away.

“Here, Merlin,” Arthur spoke. His words were ever so slightly more gentle than his usual biting tone.

Merlin raced through his thoughts to try and come up with an excuse. The creeping feeling that this was wrong refused to subside.

Finally he blurted, “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Oh come on, Merlin,” scoffed Gwaine. “It’s not like we’re asking you to cut off your entire arm.”

Before Merlin could think of a good excuse, the words slipped from his lips:

“I can’t be the one to do it… because I’m not a virgin.”

There was a beat.

Then, before anyone could react, Gwaine had swiftly taken Arthur’s dagger and lightly swiped Merlin’s arm.

“Ow, Gwaine!” Merlin huffed, but it was too late.

Small red beads of blood dripped quickly from the sorcerer's arm to the forest floor. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Nine. The sky above them whirled and hissed, darkening in only a few seconds.

And then, the witch’s voice boomed from all sides.

“This is not the virgin blood I seek. Do not deceive me again, lest thou art willing to suffer the consequence.”

“Huh, guess he wasn’t lying,” Gwaine shrugged.

If anyone had seen Arthur’s face as the witch had spoken, they may have noticed the slight snarl of his lips, the quick flush of his face. But it soon was gone and replaced with raging concern. Tearing some cloth from his cape, the King skillfully wrapped the wound on Merlin’s arm.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly. A little too quickly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Merlin quivered.

Perhaps if it were any other situation, he may have had his suspicions about Arthur’s tender touches. The way his king so swiftly and gently cleaned up the wound as best he could. But his mind was worrying about something else.

He was close to connecting the dots, he was sure. Virgin blood. He was a virgin, but obviously it hadn't worked. What did the witch mean by virgin if not a person who had not had sex? Virgin - what did that word mean? Pure? Untainted?

As Merlin fretted in silence and Arthur tended to him, Leon had quietly taken the dagger. And without warning—

“Ow! Okay, that actually really hurt!” Gwaine yelped.

The others turned quickly to him and watched as blood rolled down his palm and rolled off onto the forest floor.

And then, for Merlin, it clicked. Virgin blood – he had read about it before. Dark magic required ritual blood. And the most powerful of spells required blood that had never been used in magic before. And after so many escapades with numerous magic users, of course, Merlin’s blood had been used in magic before!

Once more, the sky hissed and darkened and the witch’s voice filled the forest.

“The deal is fulfilled, oh King of Camelot. Thou and thy company may leave this place freely.”

“Holy shit, Gwaine’s a vir–”

But before Elyan could finish his exclamation, the forest fell away and the men found themselves stirring awake by the witch’s camp fire.

Arthur was the first to scramble to his feet and brandish his sword at the woods surrounding them, his knights quick behind.

“Show yourself!” he demanded.

“It's too late,” Merlin said, simply, checking his arm – still wrapped up in Arthur's makeshift cloth bandage. “The witch would be long gone by now. That sort of spell is one you cast to get as far as you can from the people you're trapping. I've read about these spells plenty of times.”

Tired, Arthur resheathed his sword and collapsed onto the floor next to Merlin. The knights also sat themselves down, exhausted.

“Does it hurt?” Arthur whispered quickly.

“Not anymore,” Merlin answered, also in a hurried, hushed tone. “Thanks for the bandage.”

Arthur felt the words claw at his throat. He so desperately wanted to know. Who was it that Merlin had let into his heart to share a bed with? Who had this servant boy met that he did not know about? Merlin told him everything. Or at least, Merlin was such an open book that Arthur knew it all. Or at least he thought he did.

His heart beat heavy in his chest. And the question never made it into the air.

Finally, Leon broke the solemn silence that hung above all their heads.

“Look, Gwaine, you really don't need to lie about being a lady-killer. We'll love you either way.”

The knights burst into a much needed uproarious laughter and even a chuckle escaped from Merlin and Arthur.

“But I've been with loads of women!” Gwaine protested. “The witch was mistaken!”

“Sure, sure,” Percival spoke dismissively. “We definitely believe you and not some super scary witchy curse, Gwaine.”

And with that the knights rose to their feet and continued on with their journey. Arthur’s eyes lingering on Merlin's arm just a fraction of a second too long.

[cakelitter]

Apple Of My Eye

Older! Leon x Fem! Reader (oneshot)

warnings: angst, fingering, oral (f recieve), p in v, daddy kink, makeup sex

summary: Leon and reader get into their first argument, but Leon apologizes in his own way.

words: 3.1k

a/n: i'm writing so much older Leon fics but this man lives in my head rent fucking free omg

Everything is going to shit.

Words were said, things were done, that all cut through you like a knife. This is your first actual argument, not just a simple misunderstanding or a silly disagreement. But a full-on fight.

To rewind, you and Leon were supposed to have a nice dinner date, romantic and sweet. Something the two of you haven’t had the chance to do since he’s busy all the time. You got ready, all dolled up and looking the best you’ve ever looked. You wore his favorite dress, painted your nails his favorite color, put on the kind of make up he likes. You wanted this to be special, a night to remember.

But he forgot, leaving you sitting at that table in the restaurant for an hour and 37 minutes to be exact, like an idiot. No text explaining why he was late, and wouldn’t pick up his phone either. By the time he arrived you had already downed most of the bottle of wine the two of you were supposed to share, and was feeling full from the sympathetic stares the waiter and other guests were giving you.

Worst part, he didn’t even apologize. No “Sorry baby, I had something come up at work” no nothing, just sat down, looking at you like what he did was normal. You decided to suck it up and continue on with the night. Trying to be the bigger person even though he’s twice your age and your size. Sure, you still had a bit of an attitude, some short answers, and not clawing to get closer to him like usual, but you have the right to.

Apparently not, cause he decides to get all pissy with you. Giving you glares from across the table, and in general being petty. It was clear to you, and to everyone around, that your nights wasn’t going great. You both end up leaving the restaurant after 30 minutes of his arrival, neither of you finishing the meals you ordered.

The car ride back to you shared apartment was quiet, but the tension was no joke. Instead of the normal sexual tension you both experience after these usual dates, or even just being around each other in general. There was the tension that made your heart sink and your throat tight. His eyes fixated on the road, both hands on the wheel gripping it firmly till his knuckles turned white, instead of having one in between your thighs like usual. You can’t tell who’s ignoring who, or who is more pissed at the other person more. Your mouth didn’t utter a peep, when shaky breaths and pleading words should be escaping it at this point. You hoped that once you get home, the two of you would have cooled down a bit and would talk it out like you always do.

Yet again you were wrong. As soon as you arrived back home, he slams the door behind the two of you. And starts to speak through gritted teeth.

“What he fuck was that whole fuss about?”

Turning around, you don’t know if you’re more shocked at the tone he is addressing you with or the fact that he genuinely doesn’t see what he did wrong.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you left me there for almost two hours without explaining even why?!”

He scoffs, fucking scoffs. “What, am I supposed to give you reports on everything I do now? What I’m doing and who I’m with?”

“Leon, you can not be serious right now. All I wanted was for you to simply give me a heads up telling me that you were gonna be late.”

“Well, I was clearly busy. I’m sorry that I have a real job and responsibilities that I have to deal with.” Why is he acting like you don’t know that? like this is new information to you? In the past 2 years of your relationship, you have understood how demanding Leon’s job is, and have always been patient.

Going on missions for days and not being able to contact you. You get it, he should focus on his mission and getting home safe. Canceling plans with you last minute cause he was needed at his work. That’s fine, he can’t control it anyways.

But he always made it up for you. Taking the next day off to spend time with you, consoling you, spoiling you with gifts if he couldn’t be there physically with you. He has never gotten angry at you or talked to you in this tone before. He has never refused to apologize, and always tried to reach a solution. But now he is choosing to argue with you.

“You know how much I respect your job and how patient I am when it comes to this topic. But I can’t always brush off the feeling of neglect sometimes.”

“Well maybe you need to stop being so fucking needy.”

Ouch.

He always had loved it when you were needy though, loving the way you’d sit on his lap and shower him with kisses as he worked, loving how you needed to be close to him on the couch while watching a movie, loving the pout you do when he leaves for another mission.

You compose yourself, and start thinking of why he’s acting this way. Is he having a bad day? Did he get bad news before he came to see you?... Is he done dealing with you?

The last possibility makes your heart drop as you try to shoo that evil thought away, but it sticks like cigarette smoke on clothes.

“Are you having a bad day? Is there something bothering you?” your voice is gentle and understanding, trying to deescalate the situation. But he replies with the same harsh tone.

“Yeah, I’m tired of constantly dealing with your bullshit.”

…

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair and looking away from your face. You stand there, not knowing what to do. Feeling so stupid, just staring at him, praying he tells you that he didn’t mean that, that this was all a mistake. To pull you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear like he always does when you’re upset.

He was always so gentle with you, from his actions to his words. Scared to be too rough with you while play fighting as if you’re going to break. He constantly reminded you of how much you meant to him, how much he missed you on missions, and how much he couldn’t wait to be with you again. His sacred treasure, the apple of his eye, the love of his life.

But now, it all came crashing down with the venomous words he’s saying. Dropping your glass welded heart from what feels like a 13-story building, then proceeding to run over whatever survived. The burning sensation in your throat is starting to get hard to ignore, you try fight it off but to no use.

“What, are you gonna cry now like you always do?”

And that’s all it takes for tears that have been brimming in your eyes to finally break free dropping down to your cheek as your lip quivers. Yes, you are crying like you always do. Feeling so humiliated, tears blur your vision as you turn around and walk to your room shutting the door behind you.

You’re so upset. Sadness mixing with anger creating a disastrous cocktail causing your throat to burn like hell. And to make things worse, you can’t even go to the person that knows how to comfort you best, cause they are the reason why you feel like this in the same place.

Laying down on your side of the bed, tears are practically soaking your pillow. You’ve been crying for what feels like hours now and you’re sure your eyes are going to be swollen as fuck the next day. Multiple sobs, tears, and sniffles later, you fall asleep. Pass out is a better word for it actually. Only to be awaken by a knock on the bedroom door. You ignore it, and close your eyes again.

“Baby, please, let’s talk.”

You ignore again, hoping he takes the hint and leaves you alone. But he doesn’t. He opens the door slowly and looks over to your huddled figure laying on the bed. You’re clearly cold, legs tucked close to your chest, and your face nuzzled into your pillow as much as possible. He sighs, walking over to the bed, and lays down next to you with you back facing him. He stares at you for a bit, knowing that you’re not asleep, he knows your breathing a little too well. He scooches over placing an arm around you, and places a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“I’m sorry baby, I was being an asshole.” He whispers, planting another kiss.

You don’t reply, but you do open your eyes. Noticing that, he continues.

“I was just stressed from all the bullshit going on at work and… took it out on you. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have done that.”

…

“Those hurtful things, I don’t mean them. God, I don’t mean a single word I said.”

That last sentence was all it took for you to start crying again. But this time, those arms are around to pull you in. He turns you around and places you against his chest as you let it out. An arm is behind your back rubbing up and down soothingly, while the other helps getting your hair out of your face.

“Shhh it’s okay.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Are words he repeats in a tone juxtaposing the one he was using a couple of hours ago. This is the Leon you’re used to. Calm, and feels like home. The warmth of his body helps warm you up and the arm rubbing your back, helps ease your breathing back to normal. After a few minutes you calm down, and look up at him. He smiles kissing your forehead.

“Was Daddy mean to you earlier?” he asks and you nod.

“Want him to kiss it better?” you nod again.

He smiles softly and starts tenderly kissing your lips, your forehead, cheeks, and jaw.  Each kiss was full of affection and pure sincerity. You started sensing that warm feeling in your chest, heart beat regulating, and lips curling up into a smile as he kissed every single inch on your face. You’re not sure you quiet understand the science behind this technique and how he can manage to lift up your mood with a few kisses and his heart-warming voice. But it somehow always works.

However, can’t tell if it was the sudden change in your mood or his hot breath and soft lips on your face, but the wholesome warm feeling in your heart switched at one point, to heat pooling between your thighs. And soon enough you started being needy again.

“Daddy. Want more.” You muttered, making him stop momentarily to respond.

“Want what baby, you need to tell daddy what to do so he can help you.”

You start feeing a little shy to word it out for him. Normally he would keep you being a needy squirmy mess till you say it yourself. But he was already mean to you today, so it’s only fair to help his girl out.

“Want Daddy to kiss you somewhere else?”

“Mhm”

“Where?”

“My pussy.”

How could he say no to that face. Lips puffy, eyes glossy, and lashes wet from your tears. Humming in agreement, he places one final kiss on your lips and moves down between your thighs, spreading them open for him. You were still wearing your dress, so he was immediately greeted with the lace panties you wore for him. Running his finger up your cunt, he can already feel the dampness through the thin fabric.

“Damn baby, you wore all of this for me? God, I don’t deserve you.”

He says planting an opened mouth kiss on your clothed clit making you whine. Bunching up your dress, he grabs the hem of your panties sliding them down and shoving them in his pocket. He runs his tongue up your slit, and it feels warm as he tastes you. Spreading your cunt open with his fingers, his mouth starts sucking on your clit as shaky heavy breaths escape your mouth.

His blue eyes meet yours as he continues guzzle your pussy up while occasionally fucking his tongue into you. He laps up every single fluid that comes out, appreciating every drop. Eventually, he rewards you with one of his fingers penetrating inside of you and fucking into you at a slow pace as he pulls the hood of your clit back and continues sucking on your bundle of nerves.

Moments later he removes his mouth off of you, wanting to watch your expression as he sticks another finger into you. Your mouth opens slightly as a broken sound leaves your throat. His fingers were thick, much thicker than yours. The rough skin on them making your back arch at the sensation.

“So fucking pretty.”

You can’t tell if he’s addressing you or your dripping pussy as your eyes flutter shut when his palm makes contact with your cunt. He starts moving his digits in and out of you, mouth finding it’s way back to your clit once more. Your hips start squirming in place as he uses his other hand to hold you down in place. His digits then begin scissoring you open while his tongue flicks your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Amidst the intense feeling of pleasure, you grab his hair pulling his face towards your dripping cunt even more. Grabbing Daddy’s hair and not being gentle with it is against some of the rules the two of you have established. Leon is going above and beyond to make sure he doesn’t go bald, avoiding it like it’s the plague. Hence, pulling it, is something he would normally spank you for, fuck you roughly while pulling yours to make sure you always remember. But he’ll let it pass this time.

You start babbling, the pleasure fogging up your field of vision, and the ability to form a coherent sentence, but he knows your having a good time.

“Daddy, can I please cum?”

“Do whatever you wanna do sweetheart.” As soon as you get his permission, you reach your peak with a squeal, letting go of his hair and clutch instead on the white sheets beneath you. His fingers continue moving, easing your way back down from your high. And he eventually removes his fingers out of you, placing a final kiss on your clit before looking up at your blissed out expression.

He gets up, ready to run you a nice bath to relax, but you refuse.

“Want you.”

You say looking up at him. He smiles and replies.

“I don’t know baby. Don’t think it’s fair that you get punished for not behaving and I don’t.” You whine, a pout forming on your lips. Even though you just came, you fear that you’ll never satisfied till he’s deep inside you.

 You tug on his shirt, eyes pleading, batting your lashes at him the way you do, decreasing is chances of saying no to zero.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. Plus, that boner of yours looks pretty painful.” You retort, pointing at the way his dick is begging to be released out of his jeans.

“You sure?” You eagerly nod, and before you know it, your hands are already undoing his belt. He helps you out, taking his pants and shirt off while you strip out of your dress as well.

“How do you want me?” he asks as the two of you sit naked on the bed.

You put your finger on your chin, squinting your eyes as you think.

“On your back.”

He complies, resting his head against the pillow as you crawl over you him, placing a gentle peck on his mouth. Your legs straddle him, grabbing his dick and rubbing it up and down your leaky slit. He grits his teeth, eyes fixated at your motion before you start nudging it as your entrance.

You drop down on his length, making the two of you moan in unison as you bottom out on his dick, his hands involuntarily reaching over to grab the fat on the side of your hips. You don’t take too long to adjust thanks to his fingers warming you up earlier, and soon enough you start bouncing.

Placing a hand on his chest to balance yourself as you increase the pace while occasionally grinding your hips on his skin to get more friction on your clit. One of his hands leave your hips, making its way to your lips as you take two of his fingers into your mouth. He groans at the view in front of him.

“Fuckkk, such a good fucking girl.”

Moments later however, you start getting tired. Poor thing, doing all the work by yourself. You were always destined for princess treatment anyways.

“Getting tired?” he asks through heavy breaths, and you mindlessly nod.

Grabbing your hips once more, he plants his feet on the bed and grabs you pulling your body closer as he starts drilling into you. Your head falls back, all of that sadness you experienced before disappearing with each thrust of his hips. His dick feels amazing inside of you, hitting all of the sweet spots with each move.

The familiar sense of release starts approaching. The sound of skin slapping fills the room as you start chanting “daddy” over and over. You don’t even need anything from him, but he’s all your mind can think about.

“I’m right here, cum for me.” And you do. Your body convulses as sweet release takes over you. Leon moans from how tight your walls are gipping him. Dick throbbing inside of you as he fucks you through your release and starts chasing his. Picking up the pace even more, he feels himself getting closer and closer to his own climax.

“Where do you want it baby?” he asks through greeted teeth. You mind is complete mush at this point, completely and utterly cock drunk. “Inside please.”  Look at you, still using words like please and thank you even in this state.

He was hoping you would say that, he doubts he’ll make it in time to pull out anyways. Leon’s releases washes over his as he spurts his cum all over your walls, while crashing his lips into yours. You kiss him back, moaning as you feel so full and warm from the inside. His hips slow down and eventually reach a stop, and both of your bodies relax. Lips separating, you stare into each other’s eyes for a bit, one of his hands runs through your hair delicately, before cupping your cheek. You tilt your head, resting its weight on his palm as he strokes your face with his thumb.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

banner by @/anitalenia

[lacybunie]

him.

“you’ll never feel this pretty again.”

pairing: afab!reader x leon kennedy

warnings: smut, slight intoxication, choking, rough leon, one night stand, strength kink, squirting, reader does NOT know leon (or even his name), consensual, mentions of breakup, small blood mention, praising, comparison central, heavy mentions of an ex, oral mention (fem receiving), fluff at the end.

there’s a fever creeping its way through your body with each thrust he makes into your sobbing cunt. every moan that slips pass your blood-bitten lips has his jaw clenched. his hips never faulting, only picking up the pace if it was even possible. his fingers are burning their imprint into your hips, the irritated reds contrast with the dark blues in his eyes. the only reminders of him you’ll ever have after tonight. you cannot recall a time where you felt this much, your body never experiencing a high such as this. let alone, experience being fucked like this. he grabs at your throat, squeezing just enough for the air you take in to be rough against your lungs. “i could fall for you, you know.” he chuckles.

your eyes squeeze shut to hide your hopeful gaze. the lack of oxygen has your cunt squeezing his cock. the muffled sounds of your own erratic heartbeat and weak whimpers are all you can manage to hear. the grip around your throat loosens for just a moment when he lifts your hips at an angle that gives himself more leverage to fuck his cock deeper in your cunt. the fuzzy feeling left by the alcohol in your head is being numbed by the overwhelming feeling of burning lust. the sight of his muscles contracting with each breath, each thrust, makes your cunt tighten. a moan escapes his lips. you think you just died at the sound. he’s so fucking hot. hotter than your ex, better, stronger, bigger.

“you feel so good.” he says, roughly grasping at your wrists. “never had a pussy this tight.” your wrists are sore in his hands but you’d be damned if you made him stop, to make him go easy on you. you want him to throw you around like you’re nothing, to feel how strong he really is. you smile through a moan, “never had a cock like yours.” he smirks, releasing your wrists from his hold to rest his fingers against your clit. dry tears well up in your eyes as he rubs your clit, taking his cock out momentarily to slap the tip against the puffy nerve. you thrash around pathetically at the oversensitivity, he lets out a chuckle. he shoves his cock back into your cunt, pressing your legs down on the plush mattress, spreading you open. he knows your body well enough already as if he’s studied you his entire life.

the moans and whimpers leaving with the air in your lungs are echoing throughout the room. “sound so sexy.” he groans with his hands digging into your thighs. his cock pumps sweetly in and out of you, the veins wrapped around the base are etched into your throbbing walls. he fucks you better. his hips snap against yours with more purpose, passion, like getting you off is all he wants. your nails scratch at the hands bruising your thighs when his thrusts become painfully sharp but you can’t stop the high you’re getting from it. “want you to cum in me.” you hiccup. your eyes meet his, the blue-black piercing right through you. “want me to knock you up?” he scoffs with a smirk on his lips, you could cum at the proposition.

“i’ll give you anything you want, baby.” he says through gritted teeth while his nails break through the skin of your thighs, crimson droplets paint his fingers. there’s a pang in your chest at the pet name, like your heart is eating itself. why couldn’t your ex ever treat you like this? why did you have to find the admiration you craved from a guy you met at the bar? you can’t stop yourself from crying out in pleasure when he presses his hand down on your lower abdomen, pulling you back to reality. there’s no time to even think with the way he’s fucking you. his cock pounds your abused cervix so sweetly, like your cunt was made for him.

“please.” you don’t know what you’re pleading for, you can’t even feel your face at this point. so fucked out on cock that you don’t remember how you felt before. his hand roughly grabs at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. the blues swirling in his eyes are hypnotic, you feel your orgasm getting closer as you get lost in his gaze. “say it, tell me what you want.” his face is closer to yours, you want to mesh your lips with his, to be completely tangled in his body. but you’re too weak to do anything but moan like a pornstar. his cock is so deep in you that he’d split you open if he bottomed out. “c’mon, use this pretty mouth of yours.” he says against your lips, depriving you of a kiss.

you can see a faint scar below his cheek through your foggy vision. you could die at the way he’s looking at you, with lust and adoration. a look your ex never held. his heavy breathing mixes with the gasping moans you’re letting out, “kiss me, please.” the feeling of his lips colliding with yours sends you over the edge, he kisses you so well as if your lips are a medicine he’s been dying to taste. his tongue collides with yours, feeling you out like he had done with your cunt moments ago. your head spins as your cunt tightens up, pulsating for a sweet release. “can i cum?” you breathe out against his mouth. “you don’t gotta ask, baby. cum on my cock all you want.”

your hazy eyes hit the back of your head as you reach seventh heaven. your sore legs are numb, your nails are piercing into his shoulders which only makes him pound your cunt harder. “there you go. good girl.” the praise is a symphony to your ears, you pathetically cum around his cock hard. the rush is too much for your intoxicated brain, hitting you stronger than when he ate you out like a feast. your moans are broken, strained. you see colors dancing behind your eyelids as you snap them shut. you’re heaving for air that seems like it’ll never come. you feel warm and so wet. “fuck.” he moans, his cock leaves your hole, making you feel empty. yet your thighs and ass feel drenched.

your blurry vision makes you see double as you watch him stroke his cock. he lets out a sweet moan when warm ropes of cum lay atop your stomach, his free hand grips at your waist. you sigh deeply as you finally catch your breath, like you just finished a marathon. his eyes divert down to your cunt, a smug smirk spreads across his lips. “never had a squirter before either.” your eyebrows furrow before sitting up and seeing the soaked sheets underneath you, your thighs covered in your own wet essence. “oh my god, this is so embarrassing.” you huff as you lay back down, hiding your face behind your hands. “i think it’s hot.” he hums, rubbing your sides. you peak behind your fingers to see him smiling softly.

“i can help you clean up.” his voice is hoarse, like he’s drained. his tired eyes blink slowly as he watches you. you almost feel guilty for making such a mess of yourself. “that’ll be nice, thanks.” your fingers lightly soothe over the scratches you left on his hands. “sorry for doing this, um…” your head pounds as you try to remember his name, the lust and faded alcohol still linger. what a terrible person you’ll be if you can’t even remember his name. “leon.” he finishes for you, stifling a laugh. “did i really fuck your brains out?” leon teases, grinning as you roll your eyes.

[luverine]

Crybaby ˖ ࣪ 𓂃

MDNI // no proof read // sub! Fav x gn! Reader // infantilization? // dacryphilia // overstim

“I’ve barely done anything and you're already crying, so pathetic…”

A whimpery sob escaped his lips. You’ve been jerking his dick for what feels like a lifetime. He’s extremely sensitive as he feels his third orgasm draw near.

“Please,” he whines, his cock is a blushing red that travels up his happy trail. His chest is on fire, he can’t think, he’s being so tortured by your smooth hands.

He turns to putty the moment you give him any sort of attention. Trail your eyes over his body? Hard. Kiss his cheek? Coming. Place your hands on his hips? Destroyed.

“I need-!” He’s gone, arching his back, teary eyes rolling back, come coating your hand once more.

“Can my crybaby handle another?” You ask a smirk spreading over your face as you pet his hair, cooing at his ruined form.

A/N: likes, comments, reblogs appreciated ˖ ࣪ 𓂃Love you all ‹𝟹

I’m hoping to write more (longer) subby works! I had Peeta, Cloud, Zack, Armin, Jean, Connie, Reiner, Shiggy, Bakugou, Midoriya, Kiri, Victor, Gale, and Leon in mind for this one •_•

[melancholyhigh]

SUNRISE.

ft. brother's best friend!leon x reader

synopsis. even though leon's supposed to be having a sleepover with your brother, he can't help but miss you, sneaking behind your brother's back to fulfil his desires.

content. 2.4k words. smut. subby!leon, handjob, fingering, quiet & sneaky sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), come eating, praise kink.

note. i'm finally active and the first thing i do is write for sub leon. old habits die hard.

masterlist. i love reblogs & validation !!

You stare blankly at your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. It’s currently 5 AM, and you’ve spent the entire night twisting and turning, trying to succumb to the sweet escape of slumber.

You believe it’s your body betraying you. Your brain understands his presence near you, but not close enough. It yearns for him and his touch, unable to function without it. He’s in the room across from yours, lying on the grimy couch in your brother’s room as he peacefully sleeps.

Your eyes begin to droop, and you allow yourself to give into the sense of vulnerability. Breaths coming out evenly, your chest rising and falling in sync. 

All sense of tranquillity disappears at the firm knock on your door. What could your parents possibly want?

You let out a groan in frustration. In all honesty, you’re about to burst into tears. The comforting rest you’ve been anticipating since Monday swept away because you couldn’t handle your feelings correctly, up late at night just thinking about what could’ve been.

The quicker you get it over with, the faster you’ll be able to get some sleep. You highly doubt that, though.

A few minutes pass, and you rip the smothering blanket off you, shuffling to the door. Gripping the cool metal of the doorknob, you stall before turning it.

The door opens to reveal him. Leon. The source of your nighttime dilemmas. His lips curved into a shy smile, and his eyelids drooped with similar exhaustion to yours. Your anger and frustration dissipate when you meet his tired gaze. It’s astonishing how much control he has over your emotions, over you.

“Can I come in?” he asks sheepishly, his voice hoarse from sleep. You stumble to the side, silently allowing him to enter the confines of your room. It’s second nature to him when he falls not so gracefully onto your bed, snuggling your sheets.

Closing the door, you lock it before joining him on your bed. It wasn’t unusual for Leon to find comfort in your twin-sized bed despite barely being able to fit in it with you, his limbs dangling off the ledge. It was odd of him to entertain the idea while your brother was nearby. 

He’s the cautious one despite asking you out first. He’s reluctant to face the consequences of your brother finding him intertwined with you in your sheets. You’re not mad at him for keeping your relationship private, but it’s not like you hate the idea of him showing you off or you, him.

You don’t care if your brother finds out. He’d get over it, but your brother’s a bitch when he wants to be. Though you’ve dealt with him for most of your life, it would be nothing new.

So, it confuses you why he’d want to doze off on your bed, risking facing your brother, and your silence doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I couldn’t sleep without you,” Leon mentions, words slurring from his drowsiness. If you were unable to sleep before, now you’re wide awake. He could’ve lied, saying that shitty recliner your brother got on a ‘deal’ was terrible support for his back. But no, he needed you just as much as you needed him. 

“I missed you too,” you reply, nose almost touching his as you rest your head on his pillow. Every moment shared between you two, you can’t help but admire him. He’s so pretty, even like this. Blonde hair draped messily onto your pillow, his cheeks rosy, and his half-lidded eyes shine brighter than any of the stars you’ve gazed at.

A grin graces his usual pouty lips. Leaning over, he presses his mouth to yours — it’s less lust and more intimate, reminding you of the first kiss you shared. You had never been more grateful for your dumbass brother getting locked in the theatre’s bathroom stall.

Your mom had forced you to pick up your little brother and his friend from the movie theatre, and you hadn’t anticipated his cute friend, whom you may have liked, sitting in the passenger seat as you both waited begrudgingly for your brother.

You had seen him around, playing fighter games with your brother on his PS1 in the living room. He was your favourite of his friends. Not only was he handsome, but he was also a good influence on your troublesome brother. And you may have developed a teensy crush on him. You didn’t take it seriously because you’re his best friend’s sibling — why would he even consider you an option?

Until that evening when he proved you wrong, your brother was gone for 20 minutes, and you had no other option but to talk to the boy. He was a bit awkward, you were too, but you both began talking and surprisingly hit it off. 

After mindless chatter, he confessed, which confused you til no end. He really wanted you? Your silence startled the poor boy, ultimately leading you to return his feelings with a simple kiss to end the night.

But it's different now as you entangle your fingers into his hair, tugging softly, a soft whimper falls from his parted lips — why was everything about him so pretty?

“Don’t be so loud, baby. Do you want him to hear you?” you whispered teasingly against his lips. His warm hands trail under your sleep shirt and grip your hips roughly.

“Fuck off,” he huffs quietly. The walls are thin, incredibly so. You’ve heard the movies Leon and your brother were watching during the night, and you’re sure they’ve heard you listening to music, so it was plausible that he might hear Leon’s moans and whines, but your brother slept like a rock.

And, even though the prospect of people knowing how good you please Leon was hot. The mortification of your brother, let alone your mother catching you, certainly was not.

Taking your hand in his, he guides it to his crotch, his erection straining his plaid pyjama pants. He lets you feel how badly he wants you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and leaving kisses down the column of your throat. 

The sun slips into your room through the gap in your curtains, and you ponder how long you’ve been making out to get him so aroused. 

“Let me feel you, baby,” Leon breathed into the crook of your neck. Your hand slips into his pants, fingers teasing the head of his sensitive cock, stringy precum sticking to them. Your own arousal pools in your underwear, clinging to your drenched cunt. 

Deft fingers encircle his shaft, lazily stroking the base of his dick. Between shared kisses, Leon sneaks his hand into your shorts and underwear, rubbing your needy clit, and a sharp whimper falls from your lips. He tantalizingly glides his fingers through your slicked folds, teasing your sensitive nub with each pass of his digits.

The movements of your hand on his cock become messy and frantic, precum continuing to spill onto the material of his pants with each buck of his hip. 

You’re not faring better when he plunges his fingers into your tight hole, thrusting, resulting in your cunt producing slick and embarrassing noises. Your combined gasps and whines fill the room despite being quelled by each other’s lips. 

You melt away in each other's arms, forgetting about the conflict that would arise if anyone found you and him in such a predicament.

Drawing away from your swollen lips, Leon stills his fingers in your pussy, pulling them out, and you cease your hand on his dick. He groans at the loss of pleasure from your hands and the slick accumulated on his digits, unaware he made you so wet for him. 

“Can I cum inside you, angel?” he whispers breathlessly into your ear. He’s thoroughly lost in pleasure, uncaring if your brother finds him knuckles deep into your cunt. His cheeks are flushed pink, the blush leading to his chest under his black graphic tee. Chest heaving up and down with each breath as he admires your equally fucked out expression.  

“Mhm, okay,” you hummed, and Leon shifted his back flat on the mattress, allowing you to straddle him with shaky thighs when you rid yourself of your shorts and underwear. Leon’s palms instinctively went to your waist, gripping the flesh as he stabilised you, your ass sitting flushed to his clad thighs.

His shirt rides up, exposing his v-line dipping into his pants. Gasping softly when the fabric of his pants grazed his sensitive head, your hands eagerly dragged them down, revealing his pretty dick, flushed red to the tip oozing with precum. 

Hovering over him, you guide his cock through your glistening folds with your hand's help. You collectively groan when you slide down his cock, taking every inch of him into your tight hole. As you adjust to his size and girth, you lean down, kissing him as he encircles his arms around your waist.

You rock your hips gently, and Leon groans into your parted lips. He trails his lips to your collarbone, biting on the exposed flesh. A sudden moan escapes you when he thrusts his hips upwards into your pussy. His needy and feverish behaviour reminds you of your first time together. 

The squeaky opening of the door opposing your room results in you halting your movement on top of Leon, and he whines in protest. You clasp your hand over his mouth, glaring at him. With the tightening hold of your waist and the muffled moans, Leon is acting careless. He doesn’t give a fuck about your brother right now, too focused on the constricting grasp your velvety walls have on his throbbing cock.

The footsteps pad down the hallway, and you assume your brother is making his way down the stairs. 

“Be a good boy f’me, Leon,” you whisper, moving your hand away from his face. You don’t know what overcame him for him to be acting so recklessly. Cupping his blotchy red cheeks, you note how dazed he looks, his blue irises hidden in his dilated pupils.

“Ah, don’t stop fucking me,” he breathed in response, his hips continuing to rut into your warm cunt. The intimacy of it all makes it even more challenging to delay his release, you moving up and down his cock, riding him slowly and passionately in the morning, beams of sun sprinkling into the room, setting the euphoric scene. 

It almost makes him forget the absurdity of it. Letting his best friend’s sibling fuck him into an incoherent mess at 6 in the morning, yet he regrets nothing. He can’t help but grip your soft thighs encompassing him as he thrusts half-haphazardly into your hole, dripping down and sticking to his skin. 

He spills into you with a soft moan, staining your walls with his cum at the combination of your teasing words and soft lips on his.

“Good boy, Leon. You did so good,” you coo at him, and Leon whimpers at your praises and your tightening cunt around his overstimulated cock.

Slipping his softening dick out your hole, you collapse next to him, chest heaving as his cum trickles out of you, staining your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut, and drowsiness finally takes over your overworked body. 

Though, next to you, Leon brews in self-thought. He came after you did all the work, leaving you high and dry. What kind of boyfriend was he?

“You didn’t cum.”

“S’fine, Leon. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you grumbled, blinking your eyes open to glimpse at him. He’s pouting, and despite how endearing you found it when he couldn’t control himself around you, cumming prematurely like some bumbling virgin (he was), Leon still feels like a selfish lover.

“I can still make you cum. Please? You deserve it.” Before you can disagree with him, your brother is awake downstairs, probably looking for him — Leon quickly situates himself between your thighs, eager to satisfy you.

“Y- Yeah, okay, sure,” you stammered, because how could you deny your pretty boy, peering up at you through his long lashes between your thighs?

Spreading your thighs open, hooking them over his shoulders, Leon admires his cum leaking out your hole, stretched out due to his fat cock. You feel bashful as he marvels at your stuffed cunt, moaning in surprise when a glob of his spit falls onto your messy folds mixing with his release.

Hungrily he laps at your cunt, his skilful tongue nudging your overly responsive clit. Leon loves to make you cum with his mouth. He loves to make you feel good, and it’s dirty the way he grinds his once again hardening cock against your sheets, chasing the friction while he messily eats you out, your cunt dripping with arousal mixing with his cum.

You entangle your fingers into his hair, shoving his pretty face further into your cunt, your back arching. Biting your lip, you nearly draw blood, trying to conceal your groans.

He enjoys your pussy like it’s the main course after an appetiser, tasting his salty cum and your contrasting sweet juices as he delves his tongue into your hole. His fingers rub your throbbing clit, and your thighs shake around his head. Leon’s muffled moans and whines reverberate throughout your body, adding heat to the coiling in your tummy. 

“Am I doin’ a good job?” he questions, desperate to be good enough for you before he returns to your cunt, dragging his tongue flat against you.

“You’re amazing, baby. ‘M so close.” His nails dig into the fat of your thighs, leaving indents. You roughly pull at his hair as you climax, your body trembling when Leon moans into you. 

He continues to sloppily make out with your pussy even after your high. When he pulls away from you, a gloss of your combined cum stains his plush lips. He kisses you softly, allowing you to taste both him and you on his lips. 

He helps you into your shorts, pulling his pants up, attempting to look presentable, which is unlikely with the dried cum that stains the fabric of his PJs. He lays in your bed with you, cosying up to you with him in your arms, face in your chest. Caught up in his fantasies, he fails to face reality.

“I think you should leave. My brother might be looking for you,” you mumbled into his hair. Leon huffs in annoyance before untwining with your limbs. He wants to ask since when do you care so much about such trivial things, but he complies. He knows you’re just looking out for him.

[inkonparchment]

there's a man in the woods | Leon Kennedy

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

summary: everything changes when you find a man beaten, bruised and bleeding half to death in the woods.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: horror imagery. unsettling themes. mentions/description of blood, decaying flesh, organs, guns. mention of plagas. canon-typical violence. injuries. slow burn. eventual romance. hurt/comfort. plot armour goes crazy. language.

a/n: i have no idea what i am doing so please bare with me hehe. i would like to apologize for the lack of dialogue in this.

series masterlist

¤

Chapter 1

It starts the same way it always does.

A room so bare it may as well have never existed, a room so claustrophobic it may as well not have any oxygen, a room so untouched by light it may as well have been forgotten in time. And you; always in the centre.

Agitated by the slow sound of dripping water. Drip, drip, drip. You can never figure out where the noise comes from; above, below or one of the sides? You can’t tell because you cannot see, blinking rapidly pleading that some stray beam of light enters. But no, nothing is coming, no one is coming.

Breaths become shallow, chest constricting in pain as you fall to your knees, hands pressing over your heart as bile washes up in your mouth, tasting bitter. Then it’s the walls, they close in at a pace that you still can’t figure out. Helpless to its whim. And it almost does feel like a predator playing with its prey.

But just before it can crush you, embed your being in its rotten surface, soaking in your crimson colours as you lie awake, powerless to fight against your fate, tears wetting your cheeks as your screams of terror are heard by no one.

No one is coming. No one is ever coming.

A flicker of light, the gentlest hue of gold, and that’s all it ever takes for you to plant your feet, nails scraping against the stone, and run. You don’t dare to blink, terrified that it will vanish and leave you stranded. The light is like a distant star, always out of reach, mocking your efforts to escape the darkness.

It’s frustrating, legs feeling like they’ve seeped in molasses as you grunt and heave and fight to not sink. But it is fruitless as you feel a stabbing sensation in your chest, air exiting your lungs, watching in horror as your veins turn black, desperately clawing against your skin to stop it.

Repent and seek penance.

And then you awake in your bed.

Your eyes flutter open, the sound of your heart prominent in your ears as you lay in your pool of sweat, trying to control your breathing. You see nothing and neither do you sense anything, flaring the sense of panic in your chest.

Your fingers splay against the material of your bedsheets, inhaling the familiar scent of your pillowcase to pull yourself back into reality. Three deep breaths. The sound of a whine grabs your attention, brown eyes staring into yours, ears standing up in alert and the usual wag of her tail was nowhere to be seen.  She must have heard you in your sleep.

You manage a smile, reaching out to pat her between the ears, “Sorry, Luna. Did I worry you, girl?”  

The sound of the alarm startles you, groaning as you shut it off before it reaches the third sound. You peel the covers off of you, a layer of sweat stuck on your skin, cringing at the dampness that you found beneath you. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you wait for your eyes to adjust to the light. The ache in your shoulder returns, fingers moving deftly against your skin to ease the pain, hand slipping momentarily due to the slickness in your palms.   

It’s a bit suffocating still, your clothes sticking to your body, the vague dampness on your sheets and the duvet twisted between your legs, almost locking you in. You kick it away from you, the material falling onto the floor with a gentle thump as you finally stand up from the bed, giving Luna one more pat on the head which finally has her tail wagging again.

It’s still dark out, you note. A soft breeze blows in through the cracks of your window, gently jostling the cotton curtains. You peer out for a while, the first story window giving you a view of the woods, the trees standing still despite the obvious wind. But over the top of the thick foliage, in the far off distance, painting the pale heavens is a flock of birds, flying about in agitation.

Crossing your room to enter the bathroom, you close the door behind you with a soft click and hear the gentle thump of Luna taking her spot on the other side. You stand still. Hands clutching the marble of the sink, letting the coolness engulf your burning palms and you stare in the mirror only to find exhaustion looking back at you. Bloodshot eyes, the dark circles and lifeless cheeks.

A hollowed out version of the person you used to be, knowing it’s you but still being unable to recognize yourself in any reflection. You clutch the heart pendant that rests against your neck, its edges digging into your skin. What would your mother say if she saw you now?

Cold water splashes against your skin as you turn away from the mirror, shutting the sink off as you entered the shower. You don’t wait for it to heat up, finding this a better method to wake up, to ground you, to ensure that you’re in your own home.

And you scrub, almost desperately, against your skin, hoping that this would be enough to wash away the rot you feel festering in the depths of your stomach. Your hands move faster, fear beginning to slowly creep up on your back, long bony fingers tightening around your neck, waiting for the black veins to appear.

But they don’t.

The water is shut off, a towel wrapped around you and you’re out before the steam suffocates you. It’s gotten brighter outside, the first few rays of the sun peeking out over the horizon.

Luna follows you diligently as you dress yourself, earning herself scratches on her black-brown coat, patiently waiting for you to go downstairs for her breakfast. You undo the lock on your door and make headway for the kitchen, ordering to Luna to ‘stay’ as you fill her bowl up, take a few steps back, pause and then give her the green light.

It’s your usual routine, nothing out of the ordinary. Your isolation forced your hand to establish a routine for without you would feel yourself slowly descend towards insanity. You needed a purpose, no matter how small. After one decidedly panicked evening, you had brought back a handful of chicks to raise with nothing but your sheer will and a short guide book to help you.

Your need for a purpose was fulfilled and the chicks grew into beautiful hens.

Breakfast. Tend to the hens. Hunt for meat. Lunch. Take a walk. Stare at the landline hanging idly on your kitchen wall. Read. Dinner. Play with Luna. Sleep. Repeat.

But something feels wrong today, off, almost as though the world had tilted on its axis and you’re the only one who notices.

An egg falls and cracks on the floor as you fetch it from the fridge. The toast comes out burnt on the edges. Your tea doesn’t seep well.

But you don’t have time to linger on it, don’t have the energy too, already drained by your hellish subconscious. You need to check on your hens. You whistle for Luna at your front door, shrugging on your jacket and tightening the laces of your boots; always a good sense to dress for the terrain.

And then you reach into the small closet by the door, wrapping your fingers around the cool metal of your rifle. You check the cartridge, reload, slip a few extra ammos in your pocket, pull the strap on your shoulder and step outside on the porch.

The dew is glistening in the morning sun, shaking itself off the blades of grass as Luna bounds through them excitedly, not venturing far into the tall woods. You smile, watching her stretch her legs, descending down the stairs and looking up to the sky, frowning at the lack of yellows and oranges painting the blue canvas.

The sun has seemingly vanished, snuffed out like a cigarette bud on the pavement by the heavy rolls of dark clouds encapsulating the sky. The air smells different, charged and almost expecting to see sparks fly if you run your hand through the air fast enough.

Frowning, you stare hard at the trees, watching as far as your eyes take you through the rough foliage, the twisted roots overlaying on the ground. You wait, ears perked for any sounds of a howl, a break in the branch or a low growl, grip tightening around the leather strap of your rifle.

But nothing comes and you ease, although still unable to shake off the feeling of something amiss. Maybe you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

You twist on your heels, beginning the march to your little coop when you feel your feet falter, freezing at the sound of a loud crow echoing so loudly, it felt like a gunshot in the stilled air. You twist your head to your right, heart loud in your ears as you're met with beady, black eyes and a pitch black bird perched on your railing. A raven.

It bobs its head, twisting and hopping on the railing until it’s looking at you dead in the eye. You hold in your breath. It waits a beat before suddenly brandishing its wings to their full span and lunging at you, making you stagger backwards as it flies past your head, talons scratching your coated arm that you use to cover your face.

Loud, urgent barks fill the air. It drains the colour from your face, hand flying instinctively to your rifle as your panicked eyes dart around you in search. “Luna!?” And you don’t see her, finally registering the sound coming from the side of your house, near the chicken coop.

You run, stumbling on the uneven ground, the rocks poking out of the soil hindering your speed. The little coop comes into view, Luna barking maddeningly in its direction, teeth bared and hind legs charged up. You don’t see the obvious danger, taking a quick scan of your surroundings as you jog up to Luna, hand darting out to her collar as you try to soothe her, “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s-”

And your mouth runs dry.

The metal screen that you so dedicatedly had fixed a few weeks back, making the treacherous journey of two hours to and back from the nearest town, to keep out the predators from reaching your beloved hens was torn open from the side, the carcass of one of your chicken flung on the ground, its pristine white coat now drenched in maroon, organs exposed to the sky.

You feel a burn in the back of your throat, contents of your stomach churning viciously as you find a symphony of insects nestled inside, eating away at the decaying flesh.

You bite back the burn, shutting your eyes momentarily and exhaling a shaky breath. You need to get rid of this, and fast before it attracts all the unwanted predators in the area.

You do a quick count on the remaining hens, kick the metal screen back in place as best you can, gritting your teeth and rush back in your home to fetch a plastic bag, making sure to take Luna with you. You don’t want her engaging in any foolhardy duels with the coyotes. Your hands shake as you rip out a trash bag, making sure to knock on the wood for good measure.

The sharp noise of distaste from your mother runs through your mind. She never liked your belief in superstitions.

You shove the rotting carcass in the bag as best you can, making sure to leave no entrails behind. No visits by any wolves or bears would be appreciated right now. The sky above you begins to rumble, sneaking a nervous glance as you walk through the woods, weaving through the branches and roots, holding the bag at a distance as Luna carefully carves out a path in front of you. You need to be quick to avoid the rain, wanting to not get caught up in the storm.

You shake the bag as best you can when you’re satisfied with how far away the distance is from your home, emptying the carcass. Your heart falls when you notice there isn’t a single speckle of white left, all of it tainted. “Okay, girl. Let’s head back and enjoy a day of snuggling on the couch.” You scratch her chin, the eager wave of her tail easing the tension in your shoulders.

You make your way back, slightly different to the one you took in case you had left behind any scent. It’s quiet in the trees today. No rustling of the leaves, no chirping of the birds and no scampering of little feet on the muddy ground. There was a deafening silence today, an eerie atmosphere, only the sounds of branches snapping under your boots in the air.

And then you sense the shift.

You sense it long before Luna stills, ears perked up fully and taking her stance to lunge. The hair on the back of your neck rises. You feel your heart drumming in your chest, senses heightened as adrenaline slowly pumps into your system. The stench of despair; you know it all so well.

Your hand once again reaches for the rifle, shrugging it off your shoulder as you bring it up, finger lined up next to the trigger, breath slowing down as your steps become feather-like, gliding forward. There is barely any light out now, despite the morning hour, whatever left of it seeping in through the thick foliage like spotlights following the heroine on stage.

You suck in a sharp breath.

Lying there on the forest floor is a man. His limbs are sprawled, hands outstretched away from his body, head turned to the side, propped up on the roots. His blond hair is scattered on his forehead, sticking to the skin underneath, skin so pale and ghostly that he may as well be made of porcelain, decorated prettily with shades of black and blue.

His lips are parted, a gash rushing through them and a stream of blood dripping along its side. He lays in a pool of red, oozing out from underneath and extending as though in the shape of battered wings, his body marred in cuts and bruises, some deep and some shallow, leaving no part of him untainted. His shirt is ripped, holes in his pants. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, a faint wheeze accompanying each exhale.

But that’s not what’s jarring you, tipping off every alarm in your system, the rot returning in your stomach.

It’s the guns. The gear. The holsters. The grenades. The knives.

Who the fuck was this guy? And how the fuck did he find you?

No one was supposed to be able find you, no one.

You were promised.

if u see this pop up on ao3 in the next few weeks or something, don't worry, that'll be my evil twin. thank you for reading<33

[glorysbox]

leon x gn!reader

summary: re2r leon fucks you in his jeep... that's it. 1.5k

warnings: explicitly 18+, one pump chump leon LOL

“Fuck—“ Leon shifts under you, his grip on you tightening momentarily. The pads of his fingers dig into the skin of your thighs… a very, very desperate attempt to ground himself. “I can’t… slow down, please.”

Leon’s head thumps against the leather backseat of his Jeep. His eyes are screwed shut as he lets out a shaky breath, the calloused pads of his fingertips releasing and gripping you—squishing you. You can feel him throbbing inside of you. You can feel each and every twitch and motion of his hips as he’s desperate to keep his cool and not cum inside of you after just two minutes. It’s cute.

Leon is cute.

“You’re so sensitive,” You coo at him, your hands reaching to feel the muscles of his chest through his shirt. He’s clothed still—as are you, save for the way his pants and boxers are haphazardly bunched at his ankles and how yours have been thrown somewhere else. “I just started. You already can't take it?.”

It’s dark. You can barely see your boyfriend’s face, but you’re almost certain that there’s some semblance of a pout on his face as you tease him. It’s always like this when you’re on top. He can’t focus on anything but you. How you make him feel good. How pretty you look on top of him, even if he can’t fully see your face.

“Just… just give me a few seconds, okay?” Leon’s tone is shaky as he speaks, hushed as his hands start to roam further from your thighs and up towards your torso. They rise, higher and higher, the palms of his hands dipping under your shirt and exploring every inch of skin that he can reach. His cock throbs inside of you again. “Don't make fun of me. I can't... can't help it when I'm with you.”

You can practically *feel* the heat radiating from his face as you hold back a smile, squinting to see him from the darkness that surrounds the both of you in his Jeep. The tinted windows and the fact that it's the middle of the night do nothing to help... but Leon really couldn't wait any longer. He needed you now.

"I'm not making fun of you..." You reassure, cupping his face with your hands and making him look at you. It does nothing to stop the borderline possessive way that his hands caress your body. The feeling of his hands on your body isn't unfamiliar—it's welcomed. He seems to know all the places to touch that make you whine and press further down on his cock. "It's cute. Does that make you feel better?"

"No." He leans forward, his lips brushing against your own in a chaste kiss—before his hand escapes from under your shirt and cups your cheek, bringing you closer to him. The kiss is sweet—just like he is. He’s always sweet. Wetness pools between his thighs, staining the leather seat of the Jeep as he shifts under you again. Leon’s hands travel downward again, anchoring themselves on your hips as he pulls away from your lips.

“You’re so…” He trails off as he slowly brings you up, temporarily releasing himself of the vice you have around his cock. His breath is warm as you feel him let out a deep exhale—less shaky and more anticipating than before. “So good to me.”

With slow, deliberate motions, he sinks you back down onto his cock. Savoring the way you feel around him. Mindful to not be too rough with you. He can barely make out the features of your face in the darkness, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Doesn't stop him from imagining the way your eyebrows are probably drawn together and how your mouth is probably slightly ajar.

“I love you… fuck. I can’t…” Strings of praise and you feel so goods slip from his lips as he begins to guide you up and down, soft gasps accompanying them as the slick sounds begin to fill the air of the Jeep once more. It's only been a few moments, but he already feels himself obsessing over the way you clench around him once more. His eyes are trained on the junction where the two of you meet; his breaths quickening to match the pace that he's beginning to set.

Unsurprisingly, Leon’s hips are starting to press up into yours as he guides you down onto him. He wanted to be more gentle. But he never really was good at controlling himself. Especially when it comes to you.

“L—Leon—“ Your words come out in hushed gasps, cut off by the sounds of your own moans as you grip desperately at his shirt. He’s handsy as he fucks up into you: gripping your shirt, his free hand reaching up to grab onto your hair, his fingers pinching at the meat of your thigh, hand trailing along the curve of your stomach—desperate to feel all of you.

The slapping of your skin onto his gets louder and louder, his hands pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts up into you to meet halfway—his moans in your ear as all of his inhibitions seemingly leave him at just the feeling of you. You can’t help it, at this point. Can't help the sticky mess you’re making on his lap. The way your face is buried into his neck only seems to spur him on more.

You can feel the SUV rocking in tandem with his movements. His hips tilt ever so slightly, desperate to meet that spot inside of you—to pull those noises out of you that he’s come to crave every single time. Leon always gets what he wants, too. The sound of your whine, pathetic and wavering in his ear makes him smile—his own sighs and groans as he slips in and out of you not much better.

“So good—you’re so good to me. Fuck. You feel so—“ He fucks you like he means it. He kisses you like he loves you. And it’s too much. Leon is quick to kiss you. His soft lips latch onto your own, splitting from you only to place more kisses on the side of your mouth and pressing more onto the skin of your neck. “So good. Come on, you can take it.”

The words are meant to be more encouraging than anything else… yet, he can feel the way you tighten and clench around him—can feel the way drool slips from the corner of your mouth and leaves wet spots on his shirt—can hear the muffled moans that you can’t hold back in his chest.

He wishes he could see your face. See the way your eyes are lidded and how they roll toward the back of your head when he hits the spots he knows you like... but from the way his thighs are flexing and twitching under you, he's not doing much better. Just the image of it in his head is enough to make him squirm.

Broken strings of praise and groans fall from his lips, the pads of his fingers digging into your hips nearly painfully as he shifts under you.

"Can't... can't, Leon. Please, I'm gonna..." You sigh out, barely managing to piece together the sentence from his nearly punishing pace as he fucks into you like it'll be the last time you'll ever be together. You feel his fingernails digging into the skin of your ass.

Even in the darkness from the tinted windows of the Jeep, you can see how his head lolls from side to side as he's so desperate to hold on to his control. To get you to cum first. Leon is a gentleman like that.

Well... he tries to be.

But the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him... the way you paw at his shirt... the way your skin ripples each time it meets his own from his brutal pace.

To think that he'd even lasted this long truly was a miracle.

It’s not hard to tell when Leon’s about to cum. His hips tremble, he grips you with really no regard for his strength—he whines and whines and his hips stutter and lose their pace quicker than he was able to gain it.

“Fuck. Fuck. You feel so good—you feel too good—“ His tone is higher, his body taut and thighs flexing as his hips twitch and jolt under you. Leon pulls you down onto him, keeping you in one place as his hips uncontrollably rut into you. Thick ropes of his cum sputter inside of you as he cants his hips on you, grinding and pulling you as close as possible until he’s whining more because it’s making him feel too good.

It's silent for a few minutes after. Really, the only thing that can be heard are Leon's shaky and rapid breaths and the long forgotten music from the radio playing in the background. He trembles beneath you, hands loosening on the nearly punishing grip that they held on you only a few moments ago.

Leon's hands rub along your hips, his thumb pressing gentle circles into the spots he was just tugging on. You can't see his expression... but something just tells you that he's flashing you that toothy grin that he always does whenever he wants to charm you. "That was—"

"You lasted longer this time."

"Stop… are you making fun of me again?"

[luvrgreyy]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

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

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

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

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

the divorce.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

"no, wait, hear me out,”

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

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

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it’s not really easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

click.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“leon!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“love you, love you, fuck—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[bwskj]

tags: re2 leon & reader, comfort fic, sfw, slight dissociation, reader is lowk pathetic here wth

synopsis: you were going to die… you were so sure of it, until you opened your eyes and met bright white and blue…

trapped. how long have you been trapped shivering in the shadows of broken metal? the floor you’re sitting on is cold. is it cold? you’re not even sure anymore. how many hours has it been since you cemented yourself to this spot? you can’t feel your legs, and when your blurry eyes fall upon your paling fingers, you wonder if those are really yours to begin with.

you pick at the edge of your long knitted sleeves to keep you busy—to keep you from losing the rest of your sanity. maybe if you focus hard enough, you’ll be able to block out the noises echoing in all directions. you can probably describe where it comes from if only it didn’t keep bouncing around the chambers of your skull.

your heart almost stops when you finally allow yourself another one of your bigger exhales. your breathing has turned conserved and irregular, afraid to slip out because it sounds too loud. but, of course, your lungs fight for the right to function and you frighten yourself again and again with every louder breath you take.

this isn’t real. this isn’t real.

you try to tell yourself that. but there’s a persistent beat shaking through you from the left side of your chest and a foreign burning sensation on your side that argues otherwise. it’s your terrified heart reminding you that you’re alive and the nasty tear in your thigh you had the misfortune of getting while trying to run away. you’ve almost forgotten about it—that you’re alive and bleeding.

you squeeze your eyes close as a trembling breath escapes once again. you’re not trapped. you can get out of here if you want to. how long will you stay frozen like this. wait, are you even still here?

you think you can hear something aside from the wails of monsters and delirious chanting in your head. a creak and bang in the wind. how is that possible? there’s no wind here. you manage to move your knees an inch closer to your body, wrapping your arms around yourself. your eyes stare blankly at the tiled ground now. there’s a triangle of shallow light. it looks so near yet still out of reach.

you twitch as the still color of white introduces a value of shadow. it’s faint at first—barely even there—but it grows and it gets bigger and darker until it’s consumed it whole.

…there’s something coming.

air gets stuck in your throat. the beat inside you doubles its pace, pounding through your head. footsteps? hurried. desperate. looking for something to kill. horrid screams fill your ears and your arms drop to the floor, fingertips pressed tight and almost digging into the flat ground.

no no no no, no… no, you can hear yourself muttering though you don’t think your lips even care to budge. you’re going to die. you’re going to die. if you were not dead yet, you’re going to die. this is it. all because you couldn’t move, you couldn’t THINK.

but that’s probably the way it should be. you know you can’t survive this terrible world. your heart would instead burst in fear if not eaten by a monster. you close your eyes again as you try to control the quivering of your body. it’s just right that you—

?

bright white crosses your eyelids.

you wait, bracing yourself for what’s to come. but nothing? or are you already dead?

you can still feel your eyes roll from side to side and so you slowly open them. you squint, warily searching for what’s in front of you.

bright white and… bright… blue… eyes ?

“a survivor,” the man shining the bright light says under his breath. you can see his mouth move, but you can’t hear anything. his eyes are wide and full of shock. you can’t even begin to imagine what your own pair looks like.

“a-am i dead,” your voice almost scares you when it comes out in a broken whisper.

the man lowers his light and aims it over parts of your body. he spots the wound on your thigh but concludes there isn’t anything else life-threatening. “no,” he meets your eyes again, “you’re alive. i’m leon. im a police officer. i can get you out of here.”

a police officer… it takes a moment for you to process the phrase but when you finally do, your stomach sinks, and your body unfreezes itself causing you to double over and almost fall to the ground.

leon is quick to catch you as you gasp up air you’ve been needing. your guarded system suddenly turning off awakens your body into experiencing your exhausted and weak state. “hey, it’s okay,” he says as he tries to steady you with a hold on your arm, “you’re okay.”

leon watches painfully at the terrified girl in front of him. her skin is pale and blotting in fear. her clothes are ripped and ragged, obvious that she had been running away from something. her thigh beneath her pant leg is sliced and caked with blood. dried tears glisten on her puffy cheeks.

a survivor after days of exploration in these lifeless areas. how is that possible? and a girl like you at that. how long have you been hiding in here? a thousand questions buzzed in leon’s mind, none of which had answers. he doesn’t plan to get any answers anytime soon though. all that matters right now is that he has to get you somewhere safe.

he’s not losing an innocent again. not this time.

leon picks up the gargling sound of monsters from the outside hallway. his head is pulled toward it, and he knows he’s got to act fast. with a hand still holding onto you, he puts up his flashlight and surveys the room you’re in. his eyes stop at a closet standing by the wall.

“come on, can you stand?” he says urgently. your world is sort of spinning but you hear him clearly. you stammer out an “i don’t know” but leon’s already hurrying to carefully pull you up on your feet. you let out a weak cry as painful needles shoot through your leg. you make a face of disgust as you come to terms with the embarrassingly pathetic state you’re in. still you manage to stiffly bring yourself to stand with leon’s help.

leon is frowning in concern, wondering if he should’ve just carried you off the ground. there’s not much time left to think, and since he’s unsure if you can even walk properly, he says, “don’t overthink this. i need to get you in the closet.”

he stashes his flashlight into his pocket before he loops his arms behind your back and legs and picks you up, slinging your arm around his neck. you gasp as you plummet into his strong grasp. He quickly brings you over to the closet by the wall.

with a kick of his leg, he triggers the wooden doors to open and, just as he thought, it’s big enough for a person to fit. carefully, he sets you down on the musty platform and when he pulls away, a sense of panic instantly washes over you. your hand reacts to reach for his arm, “don’t—“

he knows what you want to say. “don’t worry. i’ll be back.” there’s a determined look on his face. “just stay put, okay. i’ll deal with the monsters so we can get out of here.”

your grip on the sleeve of his blue uniform tightens and he places a gentle hand on your icy knuckles. “i promise,” his gaze, as warm and reassuring as his palm, looks straight into you and your once again petrified nerves start to calm.

you force yourself to nod. “okay,” you whisper. you expect leon to linger a little bit longer but he’s suddenly looking in another direction and before you know it, he’s stuffed your hand near to your chest and closed the doors on you.

you are once again engulfed in darkness, puffs of air running into the dead ends that surround you. your body jolts with the first bang of leon’s gun. apparently, that was the far-away sound you heard earlier.

some more gunshots and screeching from the monsters ring through the boards your enclosed in. it’s the one thing you can truly focus on. you’ve got nothing to see; you can only smell dust and feel the old and textured wood of the closet.

you try to picture what’s going on outside. with every bang, every thud, every stab of a knife. you can hear leon grunting as he fights.

what would happen if he… lost?

your body runs cold for the nth time as the chaos outside continues to drag on. what would you do if he doesn’t come back.

but he promised.

you sit there in what feels like an empty void, hugging yourself again. you recite prayers to some god you’re not even sure you still believe in. you pray that he comes back to get you… you pray that he is safe.

a couple more minutes pass before everything falls silent. you’re frozen, afraid to let out another breath.

the wait stretches and the lack of sound stabs pins into your head. your hands roll into fists and you grit your teeth. the more seconds of nothing passes, the more your eyes begin to burn with fresh tears. but just as they were about to fall, the closet doors swing open and a soft pool of light floods into your vision. your teary gaze snaps up, meeting the same blue ones that greeted you earlier. leon stands there, in his police uniform now darkly stained with what you could only think is blood, gripping on the edge of the wooden doors as his chest softly heaves up and down.

your lip quivers as you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you feel yourself come undone. there’s a soft whimper out of you and a stray tear slips out your unblinking stare.

“it’s over,” leon is softly panting, and though he sounds confident, there’s a bit of rattle in his voice, “don’t worry. you can come out now.”

leon magically appearing in front of you when you were just beginning to think he was never going to come back is enough to break down the rest of your walls. suddenly, your lungs are asking for more air than it needs and more tears start slipping out. you bow your head in embarassment while you attempt to wipe at your cheeks with the back of your trembling hands. leon’s quietly staring as you cry, fully knowing and understanding why you would do so.

“hey…” he cautiously crouches down so he could try to meet you in the eye. he raises his hand, letting it hesitantly hang in the air for a bit, before placing it on your quaking shoulder. he breathes out, “you’re gonna be okay.”

your hands stick to cover your crinkled face as his words cause you to fall apart even harder. you wish that you would stop. this guy had just fought off monsters and now he has to deal with a breakdown. did you not cry all your tears out earlier?

“s-sorry,” you stutter into the skin of your palm and in between heavy sniffles. “so-sorry i c-can’t stop.”

leon gently uses his thumb to caress your shoulder. he softly sighs, “shh… don’t be sorry. i know.”

a few more seconds pass of you uncontrollaby crying and shaking. leon silently rubs your arm in a shy attempt to soothe you. soon, you’re sniffling calms down, though your hands stay planted on your face.

leon’s consoling action slows to a stop and he lifts his hand away from your shoulder. he stares at your fingers grayed with dust before using his own to pry between the two parts. his fingertips feel warm and tingly on your skin and so you don’t fight him when he tries to break through your makeshift shield. he picks up your left hand first, then your right, and all of a sudden you’re looking at him again with tear-stained and reddened eyes.

“don’t cover your face. your hands are dirty,” leon puts effort into giving you a warm smile. he’s holding both of your wrists in one grasp so his other hand reaches to wipe down your wet and dust-stained cheeks. the genuine tug of his lips make your own twitch into a grateful one. you nod, eyelids feeling sore and drained from crying.

“you think you can get up?” he asks you, hand still busy trying to clean up your face.

when his arm falls away, you actually try to, wanting nothing more but to get out of his hair and start looking out for yourself for once. you slip your wrists out of leon’s gentle hold, pushing one palm down against the floorboard. you can sense the police officer watching you attentively, hand still out in midair in case you need him. you think you’re able to do it until you try to carry your weight with the use of your legs, you feel your knees buckle and you almost stumble forward if leon didn’t catch your hand to balance yourself. he slides his fingers to interlock with yours for a more stable grip, and your wreck of a heart that almost stopped once more is comforted with the familiar warmth you’re starting to get attached to.

“easy,” the word slips like butter out his lips. with his support, you gain new motivation to help yourself get to your feet. your palm squeezes against his when you apply the right amount of pressure to lift yourself. your legs wobble and feel like static the further they stick into the wood, but with leon’s help, you manage to straighten your knees and stand up.

you’re almost fully upright, hunching a bit over leon as you’re standing on higher ground. you’re eyes that are stuck to your shoes look towards leon’s face. you notice his expression is that of worry again, obviously eyeing the state of your body. “i can walk,” the words leave your mouth before you can even think about it.

his gaze snaps up to look at you. “i don’t think…” he trails off and though you look at him expectantly, he trashes that and starts another sentence. “we can rest a bit. let’s leave after a while. i made sure there are no monsters around so we don’t have to hurry.”

“a-are you sure,” your voice, trying to sound brave betrays itself with a slight stutter at the mention of the monsters. not only did you want to get out of here but you feel like you’ve troubled leon for way too long already. it might be better if you both try to get away as soon as possible.

“trust me. you’re going to want to have the energy later. now, you want to rest in there or out here?”

you know he’s going to be right. he’s a police officer. he knows his stuff. you say an ‘okay’ under your breath before telling him, “out. the closet is so dusty.”

leon nods and he carefully helps you step down from the platform. when you look up again, leon’s way taller than you now (as he should be). with a more sane mind, you realize that he’s handsome, especially with his piercing blue eyes and chiseled jaw. you quickly look away.

“i’d bring you to a motel if I could,” leon announces as he lets go of your hand and closes the closet doors. your head whips to look at him with obvious alarm.

leon meets your look and there’s a pause before his eyes widen in realization. ”n-no.” if there was a bit more light, you’d probably see the blush forming on his face, “i meant—because… there’s no bed here…”

he cringes, realizing he made it sound even worse. “f-for you to rest on.”

you knew that he didn’t mean for it to sound wrong and so a soft snicker accidentally bubbles up your throat. your stomach churns slightly at your own unexpected reaction. how can you be amused in this situation?

leon lets out a sigh, thankful that you don’t seem offended from what he said. you wrap an arm around your twisting stomach and go to sit on the floor below you. you lean your back on the closed closet door and leon follows beside you.

you wait for the uneasiness in your stomach to die down before you allow yourself to think. you’re staring at your knees, just like earlier, though this time there’s a color of navy blue beside you. you breathe a big sigh, feeling more present in the now then earlier. sitting in silence leaves room for you to properly acknowledge once more the drying gash on your thigh. yes, it’s still there… and you’re still alive.

“let yourself rest. i’ll stay awake to keep watch,” leon’s subtly reassuring you again.

you close your eyes which sting in weariness. your head leans back on the wooden doors and it isn’t long before you feel the sleepiness dawn upon you.

leon turns his head to look at your face. it’s peaceful now. there’s still a slight crease in your brow but otherwise, you’re calm. he watches, feeling his nerves relax as well just by confirming that you’re okay. he notices the way your head is softly starting to sway as you’re probably starting to feel the weight of it.

leon doesn’t wait for your head to fall to the side. he gently places a hand over to your farthest shoulder, pushing lightly so you fall and lean onto him. your eyes flicker open for a second but instantly close again when you feel the comfort of the shoulder you’re laying on. though your mind wishes to stay awake, your tired body can no longer wait. you’re lulled into sleep by leon’s guarding presence and soft breathing.

as you rest, leon stays awake as he said he would. he prioritizes being alert but also tries to keep still to prevent stirring you from your sleep. occassionally, his eyes fall and stare blankly at the same triangle of light still laying flat on the floor, all the while thinking up a plan on how to get the both of you out of here.

there has to be a way. he’s sure of it. he’s going to get you of here.

——

a/n: hey guys, fluff comfort moment?? not sure how to feel abt this one, i felt like it flowed better in my head and the writing is kinda wonky HWKHSSJ but i need more comfort leon fics so i made one. reader kinda embarassingly weak here but… hey she got traumatized okay.

hope yall still enjoy this kind of stuff and aren’t just sex obsessed maniacs 🥰 love yall

[lipglossanon]

Day 10

Kink: Double Penetration

Pairing: Shape Shifter/Wendigo!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, monsterfucking, monster Leon, teasing, dirty talk, double penetration, anal penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, anal creampie

not proofread

Leon sits there giggling like a loon at his phone before his night shine eyes flick over to you. 

“What?” 

You can’t, nor do you want to, stop the smile breaking out across your face as he gestures for you to look at his screen. As you get closer, you see the double jointed hands and a hint of skull around his jawline. You hope one day he’ll understand that you really don’t care how monstrous he looks. 

“Chris sent this to me,” he laughs harder as you take the phone away. 

A huff of laughter escapes as you read the text. 

“Was he referring to you or himself?”

“Oh, me, definitely,” he sighs, taking his phone back before locking it and sliding it into his pocket, “he’s too much of a goody two shoes to do anything to humans.”

“Aren’t I the lucky one,” you roll your eyes before a shout’s wrenched from you when Leon’s hands snag around your waist and pull you down into his lap.

“You are, aren’t you?” He coos, all sugary sweet even as his teeth sharpen in front of you. “So lucky to have me, little mate.”

Leaning forward, he kisses you, softly at first before his tongue licks into your mouth greedily. He rears back suddenly and you stiffen with nerves. 

“Did you drink hot chocolate without me?” His oddly colored eyes level at you in accusation. 

You suck on your teeth and smile awkwardly. 

“Yes?”

He growls and nips at your neck before sinking his sharp teeth into the meat of your shoulder. 

“Fuck!” You hiss out, squirming in his lap with slick filling your panties—pussy pavloved into getting wet at the first hint of teeth. 

“Naughty girl,” he croons, tongue lapping at the bloody marks. “Now, I get to punish you.”

“It’s only h-hot chocolate, Leon,” you gasp out, hips rocking down on his bulge. 

“I know,” he pouts, “but I wanted some. You were supposed to tell me.”

“You were busy,” another gasp pulled from your throat as he roughly sucks on the bite mark he left. “P-promise to tell you next time.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that,” he laughs wickedly, claws digging into your skin through your shirt. 

Standing up, he lifts you easily, monstrous traits bleeding over his human ones. His horns protrude while his tail whips around to slap across your ass, making you squeal. Entering his room, he splays you out across his bed and shreds the clothes off your body. 

“Leon, I really liked those,” you gripe, eyeing the jeans in tatters on the floor. 

“Whoops,” he smirks. “Guess I got a little carried away.”

His body towers over yours when he joins you on the bed, after—you note sourly—he takes his own clothes off and sets them aside. 

“Gonna stuff both your little holes tonight,” he murmurs, eyes glittering in the low light of the room. 

Keening, you arch your body off the mattress, enticing Leon to grip your ass and pull you down until you’re draped over the tops of his thighs. 

“Can smell how wet you are, little mate,” he rumbles, face slowly morphing into a skull. “Gonna breed you nice and deep, like you deserve.”

“Please, Leon,” you reach out to grab onto his forearms. “Want you so bad.”

“Roll over,” he directs, hands helping you flip over on your tummy. “Think you’re ready?”

You moan and arch your back, “Yes, you’ve been fucking me in the ass for weeks. I’m ready.”

“It’s going to be a lot,” he muses. “But if it’s what the lady wants.”

His lilting voice trails off and you feel wetness dribble across your rim. Mewling, your fingers grip the sheets as he smears lube across your asshole and slides in two fingers to the knuckle. 

“Yeah, you can take it, can’t you, little mate?”

His low voice makes you clench down on his fingers as he scissors open your ass. Slipping in a third finger makes you groan and clench, pussy dripping slick all over the bed. 

“I think that’s enough. You like it a little rough,” he teases, free hand slapping across your cheeks as he fingers your ass. 

Moaning, you miss his fingers as soon as he pulls them out, hole twitching under the digits when he smears more lube across your rim. You both gasp out when he notches one of his cocks at your pussy while the other brushes your asshole. 

“At the same time?” You whine, toes curling. 

“How else?” He snickers, tail slithering between your thighs to pet across your clit. 

Eyes rolling back at the featherlight sensation, you relax enough for him to press each head past the openings of your holes. A guttural sound is pulled from deep in your chest as Leon works each cock into your body. Inch by inch he sinks until his pelvis is flush with your ass. 

“So tight,” his voice sounds strained and disjointed. “Taking me like such a good girl.”

Pussy rippling and pulsing around one cock while your ass clenches and squeezes around the other, Leon doesn’t move to give you a little bit of time to adjust to the simultaneous stretch. 

“Full, so full,” you slur out, “fuck, s’too much, can’t—can’t take it, Leon.”

“Aww, yes you can,” his tail swirls and circles your clit sending electric shocks of pleasure through your cunt.

“Nooo, I can’t,” you mewl, holes greedily clamping down on his dicks. 

“But your sweet pussy is telling me she needs it, just as bad as your cute little asshole,” he simpers mockingly. “I’m just giving them what they want.”

A keening moan makes its way past your lips when he slowly pulls out and rocks back in, the wet sounds between your bodies loud in his room. 

You lose complete track of time; the only thing you’re aware of is the give and take of his cocks in your cunt and ass—the absolutely overwhelming sensation of pleasure running through your body until your incoherent with it. Leon speaks to you, but you’re deaf to his words. All your senses are keyed up and locked on the thick drag of his dicks against your walls. His soft tail keeps strumming across your swollen clit, but never with enough pressure to make you climax. 

It’s dizzying and heady to have Leon taking you apart like this; his grunts and growls wind you higher and higher, walls tightening around him with every exhalation. 

“Cum for me my little mate,” he purrs above your head. “And I’ll fill you so full, you’ll be dripping.”

“L-Leon, p-puh-please,” you stutter, voice wrecked.

“Good girl,” his words drip with sweet derision, pushing you that much closer to your orgasm. 

His tail begins to slap across you pudgy clit over and over—again and again—the short stinging spanks snapping that thread of arousal pooling in your stomach and making you see stars, climax wiping out your brain. 

“That’s it,” he praises, claws digging into your hips as he fucks you through your orgasm. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum in you, breed your holes full.”

Shuddering, your body tremors and shakes, holes milking his cocks until he’s burying himself balls deep inside you—hot cum stuffing you so full it feels like it’s going to come out of your throat. Crying out weakly, you can’t move as Leon ruts against your ass, cocks emptying rope after rope of his thick jizz. 

“So good, little mate, so perfect,” he sighs, pulling you up until your back is flushed with his chest and then easing you both onto your sides. 

His strangely jointed hands stroke along your sweaty skin, leaving chill bumps in their wake. 

“‘m tired,” you mumble, eyes squinting before slipping shut. 

“Rest,” he pats your thigh. “I’ll clean you up.”

“You better.”

You feel him press a kiss to your temple before you drift off. 

[kennedyalike]

hi pookie!!! i love ur writing <3 i would literally die if you wrote dom! leon x fem!reader smut with degrading and bondage and breeding 🤭

Where do you think you’re going?

dom!toxic!boyfriend!leon x fem!reader

tags: possesive behaviour, smut, sex, p in v sex, fingering, bsdm bondage, ropes, breeding kink, toxic bf leon, mentions of breaking up, oral sex (both f and m receiving) degrading, toxic behaviour

word count: 1.7k

hi anon! i would LOVE to.. leon w breeding kink is the best<3 enjoy

You’ve finally mustered up enough confidence to leave him. Yes. You were going to do it finally. Leave your boyfriend of 2 years. There were many reasons to be honest but the main reason is that you feel trapped. He’s just so overprotective, controlling, possessive and….toxic.

Always trying to control your life and then he only defends it with ”But I know what’s best for you baby.” He’s manipulative and tries convincing you he just loves you so much. In all honesty, you love him way too much and deep inside you, you know you belong to him and you want to stay forever. But this is a desperate facade of an attempt to save yourself.

”Leon…Can we talk?” You shyly request while he undresses his jacket. He just came home from work. ”About?” He mumbles quietly while walking towards you. You look away for a second to brace yourself for what’s to come. ”Uhh…Well I wanted to talk a little about what I’ve been feeling like for a while.” You explain.

He stops right before you and his hands curl around your waist, pulling you a little closer to his muscular torso. Even though you’re breaking up with him, you can’t lie, he’s hot as fuck. Compression shirt on and the muscles looking so delicious under it. Veins on his arms and a muscly chest right in front of you. He stands taller and his soft ash blonde locks fluffle as he looks down at you. ”Talk.”

You hesitate for a second again before speaking up. ”I’ve kinda felt t-trapped and like…I don’t think this is working for me anymore.” You explain slowly while looking away. You wait a second for him to say something but he only looks at you straight in the eyes without his expression even quivering. ”Continue.” He demands and you start rambling again.

”W-well what I mean is..we need to break up. I-I can’t handle you controlling my life like this.” You finally finish. A slight smirk grows on his face as he leans towards you and whispers into your ear. ”We are not breaking up, sweetheart.” He says while his other hand leaves your waist to grab at your neck. The other still gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurts. ”Leon.. I’m serious…” You say while he slightly starts squeezing your neck, you paw at his hand and squeeze your thighs together.

”What? You thought I’d just take that from you? Sweet baby, you’re such a dumb slut. I know you want me so stop fighting it and be a good girl.” He’s not asking. A small whimper escapes your mouth and your lips part slightly. ”Leon…’need you.” You hear him chuckle under his breath before he withdraws his hand from your neck and grabs at your hips, turning your body around and pinning you face down to the wall.

”You really thought that would work, you’re such a little cutie, saying that while in this nightgown, you planned this didn’t you?” He groans into your ear as his hand squeezes at your ass and tits roughly, making you moan his name. ”Here’s what's gonna happen, baby. You’re gonna get on your knees and suck me off, if you do good enough I won’t tie you up.” He pushed your head down as you nodded and dropped to your knees.

The light coming from the kitchen made him look so sexy that you even wanted him to tie you up. You look up at him with puppy dog eyes as you unbuckle his belt and start pulling his pants down. He looks at you without a word. You wrap your hand around his hard cock and gently pump it up and down. His tip is pink and leaking and you feel your mouth watering as you bring your face closer to it. Your tongue lolls out and you start giving him little kitten licks. ”You’re begging for it, huh?” He growls and you start messily kissing all over his tip, slowly pumping his shaft while looking up at him.

Your mouth wraps around his tip fully and you suck a little, teasing him even further as he starts pushing your head down more. ”Faster..” He sighs as he grabs at your hair. You start going deeper, taking more of him in when his thrusts start getting sloppy. You almost gag when you push him deeper and deeper. ”Good girl…gonna cum.” He swears under his breath and suddenly you pull away from him, ripping his orgasm from him.

He hisses and looks at you, down on your knees with a smirk on your face. He roughly grabs at your hair and yanks you forward, his cock hitting your face messily. ”You wanna be a brat?” You just moan as he lifts you up, pushing you towards the bedroom. ”Leon…Don’t have to get so mad…” You giggle.

He pins you to the bed and starts rummaging through the closet, getting ropes. You know what’s coming and you can’t help but to press your thighs together when you feel that erotic feeling between your legs. ”You gon’ tie me up, Leon?”

”Yes. You’re gonna be begging for me to stop.” He says as he lifts your arms up and ties your wrists together tightly, then ties them up to the bed frame. He looks at your body while moving down to tie your ankles the same way. You squirm a little and pout at him. ”Too tight, Lee…” You tease him.

”You can take it.” He cooed as he hovered above you, taking in your appearance. Silky nightgown with no panties under and hardened nipples peeking through the fabric. ”So gorgeous, all for me to use.”

You whine and nod as his cold fingers sneak under the hem of your dress, landing on your clit. You buck your hips up for a little sensation and he holds them down. Starting to rub circles on your clit with his cold thumb. ”Ah- Leon..” You moan as he pushes two fingers inside your wet hole. He pumps them up and down with a steady pace, pleasuring you as his thumb still rubs your clit. He studied your expression and nibbled small kisses to your neck.

”Leon! Fuck.” You whimpered as you tugged the ropes and squirmed around, the pleasure fogging your mind and your body feels so at mercy under him, tied up like this. Fuck, every little touch he gives you makes you squirm and moan.

He pulls back to leave you wanting for more, slowly he unzips your dress and reveals your naked body to him.

You squirm a little when he’s dressed and you’re naked and tied. ”Leon-hhh… please.” You whine again when you tug at the ropes. ”No baby. You have to be a good girl, got it?” He asks while lifting his shirt off of his body and hovering over you again. ”You can do that for me, can’t you, bunny? Don’t be a brat.” He says as he pecks you on your lips before they latch on to your neck again. Slowly your eyes close as his kisses reach all the most sensitive spots, wet sloppy kisses behind your ear, on your neck, collarbones, tits, the soft skin of your stomach too as you writhed under him. ”Please..touch me.” You begged. His lips kissed your hips and inner thighs, slowly moving more and more towards your pussy. ”Leon…”

”I’m gonna make you feel so good, you never have those stupid thoughts again.” He mumbles as his mouth latches on your pussy, tongue lapping at your delicious slick as he squeezed your thighs and ass. He sucked on your clit and chuckled when he heard your desperate moans. ”Ah! Oh my god! Feels so good…Leon!”

He pulls back from your heat and lifts himself up, kissing you roughly. You almost taste yourself in his kiss but that didn’t matter. His hands start untying you and you think he’s finally had enough of this punishment and is going to gently fuck you. No. He retracts from the kiss and unties your hands. ”Leon…Want your cock.” You yelp as he suddenly turns your body around, grabs your wrists and ties you down again. Now you’re on your stomach. He grabs a pillow and pushes it under your stomach and hips so that your ass is lifting up.

”Leon…hhh” You wince when his palm hits your ass, he spanked you. Your body jolts forward and your breath hitches. ”Just a hole for me, good for nothing else, you slut.” He grabs at your neck from the back and slightly chokes you while his other hand gropes your ass.

”Yes…just….your little fuck toy.” You whimper as your tongue lolls out. You feel his hard cock prod at your entrance from the back when his hands move to grip at your waist. You arch your back for him as you feel him pushing in.

”Such a tight little pussy…fucking whore. My whore.” He groans and he fully bottoms out. He starts fucking into you at full speed and your tits bounce, face in the pillow as you moan, almost screaming. ”Ah fuck! Leon! Too much…” He continues his speed and his other hand grabs your hair, pulling your head backwards while he bullies his cock inside you. ”Take it all. I’m gonna fuck you stupid so you don’t say stupid shit like that.” He says unamusedly while continuing.

”Gonna cum into you so hard.”

”I’m sorry! M’ sorry, Leon! I won’t say it again, ever. I love you…” You mewl when he starts rubbing your clit while still continuing at a fast pace. Your moans, muffled by the pillows, almost sound like crying at this point. Leon’s rhythm seems to not have stopped when his hips still rut into you, hearing sweet moans and low grunts from your boyfriend. ”Gonna breed this fucking pussy. Gonna cum so deep in you, you’ll be pregnant.”

”Ah fuck! Yes, Leon!” You moan as he starts thrusting deeper. ”That way you’ll never leave me, all filled with my cum and babies.”

”Yes! I wan’ it, Lee…”

”I love you, baby.”

Your knees feel like giving out as your arms shake and the uncontrollable wave of your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy walls clench around his dick as he holds your hips down, pushing himself so deep in you as he released a spur of hot cum in you, filling you so deep. ”Such a good girl…”

[leonw4nter]

Holding Our Dreams As You Lie To Rest

Dad!RE4R!Leon x F!Reader

“Time of birth, 2:31 AM.”

“Time of death, 2:31 AM.”

The nurse lays his newborn daughter on her mother’s still chest, the first and final time his daughter would ever get to feel her mother. Her unbroken cries drowned out the beeping of the heart monitor, a stark contrast to the state of eternal peace her mom will forever be in. They kept their daughter on her chest for a few more moments before lifting her back up, her cries growing louder as her tiny hands stretched out to try and hold on to her mom as if she knew she would never see, feel, hear or be with her again. Leon felt as if he’d been killed twice, losing a life in the same moment he gained a new one; he wanted to cry, to scream, and gently rock your body back and forth but he can’t– he has to be a father. He has to. He bends down, taking her cold hand in his trembling ones and presses kisses as he looks up at you. Eyelids curtained your eyes that once held a brightness greater than a million suns, pale lips fixed into a straight line; lips that would never smile again. He moves over to your face; you’re still beautiful, even when death stole the color and life from your features. He hugs you tight and buries his face in the nook of her neck, softly sobbing and whispering apologies as he strokes your hair one last time; you always loved it when he did that. Doctors come in and unplug her from the machines, fixing her before draping white linen over her body and taking that bed out of the hospital room. A nurse approaches Leon with a small voice, her own eyes slightly glossy as she extends her arms and gently moves the baby to Leon. He takes her in his arms, a flurry of overwhelming emotions overriding his ability to process this moment.

“I’m sorry, my dearest daughter.” he whispers. “I’m sorry for robbing you of the chance to have a mother.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s growing so fast, honey. She’s a strong girl just like her dad,” you softly say as you pat your growing belly. Leon is splayed out right on top of you, situating himself on your legs and nuzzling his cheek into the side of your belly.

“Yeah. 3 months more and I’ll have two girls in my life,” he softly says with a smile.

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“Have you thought of names for her?”

“Hm… no. Not yet. I want you to be the one to name her. I mean– you’ll know her best. You’re going to be carrying her for nine months, it’s only right that you’ll get to name her.”

“Don’t you have any ideas for names?”

“I have some in mind.”

“Like what?”

“Araminta, but we can call her ‘Minty’ for short. It sounds cute, right? What about ‘Cassandra’? I was asking Hunnigan for some ideas and she offered that and I think it’s nice too. ‘Jewel’ sounds great too. Oh– what about ‘Stella’? I think it’s a very pretty name.”

A twinkling laughter escapes your lips as Leon lists out all the names he finds pretty, musing about possible combinations that sound prettiest. Another hand moves to the top of his head, gently ruffling white spun-sun strands in between your fingers, a pleased hum reverberating throughout Leon’s chest. The laughter stays short-lived when you feel a kick to your rib, causing you to jerk and yelp.

“You alright, Y/N?” Leon asks as he sits up, eyebrows creasing in concern.

“Yeah. The baby just kicked,” she says with a small smile. “Nothing too serious.”

Leon bends down as he places a kiss on the top of your bump, his hands resting on your waist as he draws small circle patterns with the rough pads of his fingers.

“My precious daughter, don’t kick your mom too much, okay? Don’t keep her up at night and give her some time to rest. Daddy’s going to be here for you, don’t worry. We can’t wait to meet you too.”

Leon would give up anything and everything if it means keeping his girls safe and sound. He’d hold the sky up if it meant providing a secure sense of safety and happiness for his wife and daughter.

“Oh? She stopped kicking.” you softly say with an amused lilt to your voice. “Guess all I needed was for you to speak for her.”

“She’s a smart girl, just like her mother. God, I’m too lucky to have you both in my life.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Claire, can… can you come over? She won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do…” Leon hoarse at the other end of the line as he holds his daughter with one arm and his phone in the other. His daughter has been crying endlessly, depriving them both of sleep. He’s tried everything– soft singing, rocking her back and forth, feeding, checking her diapers, burping, readjusting the swaddling of her cloth but none would calm her down.

Oh, Y/N. I don’t know what to do. She needs you. I need you too. Can you come back to us? Please?

“Have you tried laying her near some of Y/N’s sweaters?” Claire suggests. “God you’re so stupid for not considering that. She might be missing her mom,” Leon thinks to himself. Placing the phone down, he rushes to his and Y/N’s room to find her favorite sweater. He lays the pastel lime-green sweater on her crib before placing her down, gently patting her belly and pressing kisses to her puffy cheeks.

“C’mon honey. Please… please stop crying. I-I don’t know what to do, I’m sorry that mom’s not here right now- Dad’s really sorry, sweetie.” Leon quietly says as he feels some of his own tears stream down his cheek.

Eventually, she stops crying and falls asleep. Leon looms over her, her tiny hand holding on to his thumb. He feels pity for her; he broke the promise of making sure she grows up in a perfect family. He feels as if he doesn’t deserve his daughter, he couldn’t even grant Y/N the dream of becoming a mother. She had long wished for a child of her own, to be able to be a mother and he couldn’t give her that. She carried his child for nine months, enduring morning sickness, swelling ankles, and every single bodily hysteric and he didn’t even give her a chance to see your daughter.

The faint noise of the doorbell from downstairs shakes Leon from his thoughts, putting on a shirt and going downstairs to pick up the door.

“Claire?”

“You just suddenly dropped the call after I suggested the sweater thing so I came down and went here. How’s she? Is she asleep?”

“Yeah. The sweater did just the trick.” he bitterly says. A silence lingers between the two for a bit before he speaks up. “I miss her, Claire. I miss Y/N. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know if–” his voice cracks. “I don’t know if I’m up for this without her.”

Claire moves to Leon and engulfs him in a tight hug, tears of her own flowing down her freckled cheeks. Y/N’s death was not easy for everyone who gracefully waltzed into her life– Chris, Claire, Rebecca, and Jill all hurting in their own way but not as profoundly deep and scarring as Leon.

“I know you do. We all miss her, Leon.”

Leon sobs into her shoulder, his body shaking as choked sobs leave him. Truly, he felt like the worst person in the world.

“Claire, look at me. Look at her– I took Y/N away from my own daughter. I stole her own mother away and she’s never fucking coming back! I’m lost and nothing without her, I don’t even know how to stop my daughter from crying. My daughter needs Y/N and I can’t give her that. All I can provide for her are pictures and her clothes because there’s no mother to sing and hold her.”

Claire holds him tighter, her hands gently patting Leon’s back as she stays silent and lets Leon spill all of his feelings.

“She wouldn’t be fucking dead had I brought her to the hospital two hours earlier. If only I listened to her and took her there when she started bleeding instead of choosing to mow the damn lawn I wouldn’t have ruined my daughter’s life from the start. Her heart would not have failed her– I wouldn’t have failed her if I was actually a decent man, Claire.”

“Leon, you’re more than decent. You’re doing everything you can for your daughter and that’s what matters–”

“But I’ll never fill in the Y/N shaped hole in her tiny heart. No one and nothing ever could, no matter how hard I try.”

Leon’s fought all kinds of monsters and abominations, barely making it back each time but it was worth it to see his Y/N’s brilliant face beaming at him everytime he stumbled home. If he could save someone from the horrors of bioterrorism, why couldn’t he save his own wife by simply sending her to the hospital two hours earlier than he should’ve?

Claire couldn’t say anything. It’s not that she agreed with whatever self depreciating fact Leon said but whatever words she would say won’t make anything feel better. Y/N shaped Leon into who he is now– changing and transforming him into a person no one knew Leon could be capable of becoming and her death simply left Leon a shattered and broken person; a shell of his former self. Leon would go through that fateful night in Raccoon City a hundred times again if it meant having her back– even if Y/N would fall out of love with him or be destined with someone else, as long as she was happy and alive. Happiness is the last thing Leon deserves right now. Standing at the doorway of his home, Claire held the shattered pieces of the blond and offered him a shoulder to cry his broken heart on.

Later that night, Leon laid down on his side of the bed whilst he moved his daughter to Y/N’s side so that she would be around her scent. He enjoyed silent nights with you, just laying in the same bed and smiling at the fact that he married the maker of all his dreams but now the silence was a painful reminder that a half of him perished forever. He left her things as they were before the two headed to the hospital, not wanting to wash the clothes she wore just to have some form of her around for just a little longer. He left the mug she drank from untouched as well and he didn’t bother to hide the bath products Y/N left behind in the shower. Her makeup products were still neatly lined up on the counter and he often wore her hair ties on his wrist but he avoided looking at the wedding band she took off. Y/N’s fingers have started swelling and on doctor’s advice, she took it off but kept it around her neck with a chain. The funeral was especially difficult, seeing her lie so stiffly with her features looking a little different. He didn’t have time to grieve because her parting gift needed him the most. Speaking of parting gift, he finds himself thinking that she left him a tiny version of herself to keep him company. She’d absolutely berate him if he gave up now so he hanged on with what little might he had left in him, giving his all for their daughter. He goes to sleep with the prayer that he’ll see Y/N, even for just a quick moment. Even if it’s just in his distant dreams.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

6 years later.

“Do you want more sandwiches or is that enough already?” Leon asks his now 6 year old daughter.

“Nuh-uh. I’m full already.” she responds. Leon moves from his place and inches towards his daughter, a wet wipe in hand to wipe some crumbs from the corner of her lips before pulling out another wipe to wipe her greasy fingers.

“Wanna know something, daddy?” she suddenly asks.

“Hm? What is it?” he responds.

“Auntie Claire told me that our loved ones in heaven send us signs sometimes. She says her own mom sends her and she says she feels a lot better when her mom does. Has mommy ever sent us a sign?”

The question takes Leon off-guard, his gaze drifting to your marble headstone before returning back to his daughter. With a pained grin, he responds to her question.

“Yeah. Mommy likes simple things that make us happy, so to me, she appears as a warm drink on a cold day. Sometimes she’s a particularly nice ray of sunlight. Sometimes, she’s the rain that waters plants. I guess those are signs she sends us.” and I hope you send some more, Y/N. I still miss you.

“So does that mean Mommy’s sign can be a good bedtime story?”

“Yeah.”

She thinks a little more, getting up and giving her mom’s headstone a small pat. With a tiny finger, she traces her name and date of birth.

“We saw a tiny kitten with blue eyes on the way here, right daddy?”

“Mhm. Why? Do you want a kitten?”

“Maybe. But Uncle Chris told me that mommy’s favorite color was blue. I found it weird at first because blue is a boy’s color but Aunt Jill said that it’s a color for anyone. She also said that blue is mommy’s favorite color because it’s the color of your eyes.”

Leon fights back tears, a surprised laugh making its way through his throat despite a lump forming. He nods, his heart fluttering at the fact.

“Yeah, it was, though a lot of her things weren’t blue. Mommy’s an interesting person that way.” he fondly remembers.

Y/N’s death anniversary doesn’t get easier any year, the unbearable pain of remembering her longer than he’s known her weighing on his tattered heart. His daughter finally comes back to him and sits beside him on the picnic blanket, a tiny hand reaching out to hold Leon’s. He can’t believe his own daughter would want to hold the same hand that gets dirty with the blood and muck of biological hellions.

“Auntie Ashley told me you also used to have a friend named Luis when you were in Spain. She said he was funny and smart and nice. Do you think Mommy and Luis are best friends in heaven? She needs someone there too because we’re both still here.”

“Yeah. I hope they’re friends.” Leon had to respond in a more hushed voice to keep his voice from cracking and his tears from spilling, his daughter’s innocence both warming and shattering his heart. “You have her eyes and her lips. Your eyes wrinkle the same way as hers when something makes her smile bright and you scrunch your nose when something makes you laugh. In your face, she is alive.”

NOTE - First angst on this blog!! Woooo!!!! I blasted Mitski while writing this and luckily I did NAWT cry (-> cried in the shower instead). If you're feeling a little sad now that I wrote this, feel free to check out my other fics that are NOT angst (shameless self-advertisement /j). That's all and thanks for reading!!!!! :) UPDATE: Leon photocards haven't arrived yet.

The wave dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[moonrisecoeur]

Ur the best sub Leon writer soooo… idk if you seen these but ppl treat las plagas parasite as sex pollen 😭 and I’m so here for it. Concept : re4 leon infected by the parasite OK but he starts out very agressive but ofc he’s a sub so he does whatever reader wants in order to yk… achieve the goal of the parasite (breeding 😔 who said that? Not me) And pls make the reader mean, I love mean femdoms sm, they are chefs kiss. If you need more clarification post it I’ll send another one idk but I’m just seeing what YOU come up with. LOVE UR WRITING btw I love how it’s pretty in character tbh cuz I read ur bully Leon one and I was like “yeah fr like he’s too caring to be a bully 💀”

OMG WAIT MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO ADD: you said smth so mean to him that he came too early. He was so sorry for coming early and the mess he made in you But then he continued to keep going trying to pump more- OK SORRY

the BEST?? idk about that but i shall take ur compliment and deliver to you only my best work so thank u bestie i appreciate it sm !! ^-^

las plagas is crazy cuz like the black veins, the loss of control with your physical body, the pain it causes… that’s literally so hot. leon was so fuckable all of re4 but especially in the scenes where his body is being controlled that man is SCRUMPTIOUS

also just so you know. the veins on his dick are black as well ♡

no pronouns mentioned, afab parts mentioned, plaga leon has to be a top im sorry (technically in straight relationships men are always topping unless u count pegging BUT in this context i mean he’s a top more like ‘he’s a sub but he’ll fuck u stupid’ like that’s the vibe)

you spot his blonde hair from across the hall, running over to him excitedly. thank god you found him.

“leon!” you call out, grabbing the attention of the man in question, as you catch up to him. finally finding him in this nightmarish place after getting separated was the best thing possible, “holy crap, i’m so- i’m so glad you’re okay— woah, what… what happened to you?”

he takes a cautious step back, still seemingly holding a little bit of control over his body, “they said it was a gift in my…. my blood… don’t know what the fuck that was about..”

you take a step forward, reaching out your hand to touch his face, fingers tracing the black lines that were once veins invisible to the naked eye. but he stops you, his hand roughly grabbing your wrist, “don’t.”

“don’t… what?” you ask nervously, shoulders slumped.

“you need to… stay away from me,” he groans from pain, and you’re too worried to listen to his words, “stop, get away from me, you— i could hurt you! i don’t want to hurt you…”

but you don’t listen to him, betraying his wishes by shaking off his grip and reaching your hand out again. he can’t try to stop you this time. he moans, actually moans, when your fingertips touch his face, caressing him softly.

“really? it’s that good?” you ask with a small smirk on your face. leon thinks he could die.

“f-fuck…” he mumbles, finally coming closer to you. his hands wrap around your waist as he leans in for a kiss that you’re not ready for, and you both stumble backwards while you try to ground yourself.

he’s getting rough, aggressive, and you need to push back a little or else he’ll consume you entirely. not that you’d mind.

“leon, ease up,” you whisper, pushing him back slightly, and when a growl escapes his throat, you know he’s clearly not in any state to listen, “leon.”

he annoyedly makes eye contact with you, trying his best to listen to what you’re about to say. he is trying, and that’s the worst part. this is him at his most gentle, most restrained.

“you need to listen to me, okay? can you do that?” you ask softly, hand against his chest to keep him from diving too deep into you, and pressing a kiss to his lips. it’s softer. he moans into your mouth needily, but you don’t let him get rough. instead you sweetly get the taste of him. sure, it’s not a delicious taste, but he’s a delicious experience.

you enjoy the way he’s trying so intensely to control and contain himself, for your sake. he knows what you want from him is not his full fledged desires out in the open, completely unchecked.

when you pull away, he looks wrecked already, “please, you can’t do this to me, not if you’re just going to walk away and leave me desperate.”

part of you wants to reassure him. i’m not going to leave you. i would never abandon you when you need me most. but the other part just wants to ravage him, take all of him for yourself, leave nothing of him left but the perfection you’ve created. perfection in your eyes. maybe he’s not the only one infected with some kind of tainted desire.

instead, to accomplish both, you kiss him again, letting your own intensity and desire take over, potentially overpowering his. he whimpers, his shaky hands holding your hips for stability. he’s not being grossly possessive and rough like before. he’s softer now, pliable.

when you pull away, you whisper, “we need to get somewhere safe.”

“wha… what?”

“i need to take my time with you, and we’re not safe out in the open like this…” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to that sweet spot right below his ear. it’s so cute how truly weak leon is right now. sure, that’s always been his weakness, but it’s elevated multiple times over by this parasite in his blood. you have half the mind to thank that weird cult.

when you find a safe room, you’re immediately back on him, pushing him against the wall, enjoying the way he whimpers as you kiss him, his need for you multiplying by the minute.

“please, please, i need you, i need you so fucking bad, please, i need to take you, need to make you mine, need to—”

“shut up,” you groan, fingers roughly grabbing his jaw, pushing his head back and away from you, “you’re going to be good, or you won’t get what you want. i don’t care how badly you fucking need me, you’re going to be patient. you’re going to be nice and obedient or you’ll get nothing from me. and that little parasite inside of you is horrified at the idea that you won’t get to fuck my pretty pussy, hm?”

he looks pathetic, moaning like a whore at just some words, but it’s the way you say them, the way you say them, that kills him. he eventually calms himself down enough to nod with his eyes shut tightly, “i’ll do whatever you say. you know that.”

“lay down on the floor,” you command, almost growling back at him, and he opens his eyes in surprise.

“what?”

“you heard me. on the ground, beneath me, right now, leon,” your eyes narrow at him, enjoying the way he weakly sinks to his knees before sitting down completely and laying back.

“like this..?” he asks, confused. he doesn’t know what’s about to happen, and that excites him immensely.

you take off your belt with all your utility tools and your jeans along with it. then finally, your underwear. he looks up at you with wide, delicious eyes.

he asks so sweetly, even though he knows the answer, “are you… are you gonna make me..?”

“yeah, you are. i’m going to sit down on your pretty, pretty face and you’re going to enjoy every second of being beneath me, where you belong, servicing me, and making me cum.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of belonging beneath you, “yeah, fuck, okay—”

“—and you’re not going to fucking talk until i cum, got it?”

he nods, and once you sit down upon your throne, he gets right to work. he laps up the fluids of your cunt like a dog, working tirelessly, sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you. this is his place. he deserves nothing more than to be here with you, caving to your every desire even if all of his thoughts include breeding you and getting you pregnant with his babies. he’d do anything you asked if he could just have that.

he’d be at your service, at your mercy, until you chose to give him what he wanted.

but he makes you cum so fucking hard that it’s impossible to not give him what he wants, especially when rough hands grab onto your thighs as you’re cumming and he’s still giving you the head of your life through your orgasm. he grabs you just to stabilize you, but also to be possessive.

he can’t help how bad he’s gotten about jealousy and possessiveness with this parasite. he’s never been the jealous boyfriend, knowing you could hold your own and you’re loyal and stuff, but something about the way he looks at you now is different. it’s deep and primal. he looks at you like he needs to have you, and no one else can.

it’s insanely hot, but it’s also inconceivable how uncontrollable those urges are. leon has good self control, and you notice it in how he’s acting. again, this is him at his most restrained. he’s trying to keep himself from pouncing on you, taking everything he wants from you because he knows you don’t want that.

somewhere deep inside of him, he’s still himself, still that awkward and dorky guy that just wants to love you and give you everything you want. you wouldn’t want that.

when you roll off of him, laying down next to him to give yourself a moment to recover, you press a kiss to his shoulder, a sign that it’s an act, your harshness isn’t real. he returns the gesture by kissing the top of your head. a sign that he acknowledges your motives.

“please,” he whimpers suddenly, startling you out of your daze as his hand caresses your back softly, “i’ll let you control everything, you can do whatever you want with me, but fucking please, i’m so desperate to put my cock inside of your pussy, baby. i can’t think straight, and i’m trying so damn hard to control myself but i won’t be able to much longer…”

“yeah? you wanna put your cock inside of me? feel it throb inside the wetness and warmth of my cunt, fill me up with—”

he cuts you off with a loud moan, his hands grasping onto you and his eyes shutting tightly at the thought of such pleasure. he looks wrecked at the mere mention of cumming inside of you. you obviously have to capitalize on this fact.

“oh? so it’s the filling me up part, isn’t it? the ‘gift’ you have makes you really want to cum inside me, hm?” you say, smirking cruelly at him, watching his resolve crumble as he moans shamelessly, “do you want… breed me, leon?”

he gasps, breathing heavily. he’s incredibly wound up, and now you know the real reason he’s insatiable and uncontrollable, “f-fuck, i— it’s not that i want to, it’s that i need to… i need to fuck you and breed you so damn bad, i—”

you cover his mouth with the palm of your hand, enjoying the way he groan in pleasure when you straddle him. god, he’s not even inside of you, but he looks fucked out. he looks he’s about to burst already.

“god, you’re so fucking desperate,” you mumble to him, leaning in closer to whisper to him despite having him muzzled with your hand. not that he’d ever hurt you, he would never even imagine it, “you’re going to fuck me stupid, okay? you’re going to fuck me until my legs go numb and i can’t feel anything but you… and only when i tell you you can, you’ll breed me, fuck your cum even deeper into me and not let any of it escape. understood?”

he breathes shakily, not responding. obviously you forgot you have your hand over his mouth. when you take it off, he nervously says, “got it. i’ll… i’ll be good. i’ll make you feel so good.”

your voice is dark, cruel, full of malicious intent, “you fucking better, or i won’t let you cum. you’ll get to fuck me, sure, but i won’t ever give you the satisfying orgasm your body is desperately aching for. you won’t get to fill me up, and all you’ll have left to fuck for your little orgasm is your hand.”

his heart aches. the idea of disappointing you makes him feel a physical pit of nervousness in his stomach, the same ones he felt when he was more like himself. he just wants to feel like himself again.

“g-got it,” he whimpers. you get off of him, and he’s got you pinned immediately, gently resting you against the ground he was previously laying on. the image of you beneath him has him breathless. he feels like he’s worshipping a god with every move he makes.

he slides his cock into you, groaning at how easy it is, how wet you are. he bottoms out almost immediately, enjoying the way your body wraps around him in almost every sense. he silently adores you. he loves that you want him, crave him just like he craves you. that underneath all of your dominance, you’re his lover too.

fuck, he’s starting to feel possessive again. he beings to thrust into you, his body moving faster than either of you can handle, but you keep your cool better than he does.

“don’t let yourself start to think you’re in control,” you murmur, leaning up to press your lips to his shoulder, baring your teeth but not hard enough to draw blood. just enough to remind him of his place, “you belong to me. not the other way around, got it?” you growl into his ear.

he can’t even respond, too enraptured by your body and the feeling of your control over him leaving him a shuddering mess.

and you can’t even deny it. he’s putting in the work, thumb playing your with your clit just like how he knows you like, and clearly he’s getting the results he’s looking for. his body comes closer to the edge sooner than he’d like, but he tries to stave it off, for your sake.

still leaning into him, you whisper in your darkest voice, “maybe i should leave you like this, so you can stay this desperate… for me. i would try and cure you, but… not sure if i really care anymore.”

he shudders, voice giving out on him as he tries to plead with you. he cums without warning, obviously his body did it without the consent and go-ahead of his conscious mind. he already looks embarrassed at cumming without your permission. you don’t really have the mind to care right now, but you remember it for.. later.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck, leon, give it to me, give in to your cravings, your desires, your needs,” you moan in his ear, desperate for him, only him, and he’s yours, he’s all yours, it’s all he’s ever been and all he’ll ever be. he keep fucking you even after cumming, keeping you filled up, pushing it deeper, “make me yours.”

and he has no choice but to comply.

[shadesoflsk]

      LULLABY FOR A BROKEN HEART

pairing: Leon Kennedy x Gn reader.

summary: After a mission, Leon musters up the courage to ask for one thing he's always wanted.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, fluff, Leon is touch starved, no consumption of alcohol but there are mentions of it, injuries, mentions of trauma.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: Hello! So... I had prepared some dad leon headcanons but after reading DI manga latest chapter... I knew I had to write something about it. I wrote this with a platonic relationship in mind but you can also see it as an established relationship! I just wanted an excuse to write about Leon because he is literally an angel ueueueue. He deserves the world.

      masterlist

With heavy and wobbly steps, Leon’s blurry vision—from the lack of sleep— could make out the frame of your door, your apartment’s door. A part of him knows that he may be a burden—or that’s what he believes. Fatality, sorrow, and overall bad outcomes are the only things his mind can register.

He doesn’t want to bother you. Hell, he doesn’t want to speak to anyone right now. The fact that he somehow made it safely to your front door was enough for him to know that you would be so angry at him. You shouldn’t drive after a mission. You shouldn’t—... let yourself die. He knows all those phrases by heart. 

He’s getting better. He’s a lot better, to be honest. He no longer drinks, but he may as well look drunk right now. His head was hurting like hell, but he blamed it on his mission. He’s getting too old for that shit. But, a healthy improvement doesn’t mean that he can’t fall. 

Recovery isn’t a straight line of betterment. There are nights when he can sleep like a baby. But then again, some days, he goes to sleep knowing that a nightmare may attack his dreams. 

His fist bangs against your door, at first trying to be quiet. But after a few seconds, some desperation came within his knocking, and a louder sound filled the already silent night. 

The melancholic feeling of being alone lasts a couple of seconds before he hears some steps inside your home, those get even closer until he sees the door opening. The sight he admires before him is far from comforting. The eyebags under your eyes, your disheveled hair, and the quiet yawn that escapes your lips say it all, you were sleeping. 

At first, you don’t say anything, letting the silence in the air fill the lack of response from both parts. Yours and Leon’s, two souls that are aching right now but for different reasons.

Leon, who is hurting because he doesn’t want you to see him like this. And yours because you’d give him the world just for him to stop blaming himself. Ironic, but in reality you’re two sides of the same coin.

Amidst the countless things you want to tell Leon, you step aside allowing him to enter your apartment. The one he knows as his cozy getaway. His second home. The first one is your mere existence. 

Physical things last no more than a few weeks, months, or years. Everything is doomed to cease existing. He has witnessed it through the years he has worked as an agent. Those gigantic and marvelous houses politicians love to brag about? A bomb would destroy them. That motorcycle he loves? Yeah, that one…. No more than a few pieces remained.

But the simple fact that you were alive and breathing meant so much. He wasn’t a stranger to death. He knows that he has become desensitized to those topics as much as he denies it. But even if someone were to die, their proof that they belonged to this world would live in those who loved them, those who were close to them. 

And that’s why you’re his home. The kind of home that served as a refuge when life got too much, when life stopped basking him with its sunlights but rather sent him a blizzard. Your presence was enough for him because you granted him the affection he has long forgotten he could have.

As he enters your apartment, the normalcy and everydayness of the living room embrace him like a thick and warm blanket. The usual smell of your scented candlelight also brings him back to the reality where he could feel safe.

He’s alone for a while, you let him sit on your couch even though he might stain it with the dirt on his pants and whole body. You don’t exactly care, you can clean it after. 

His eyes are unfocused as he waits for you to come back. At that moment, the memories of his last mission came to his mind. They don’t haunt him like they used to do in the past, where he decided to stop the voices from getting louder by drowning in alcohol.

Now, they replay in his mind like a Deja Vu, like a movie he was the main star in. However, it doesn’t mean they stop stabbing his heart knowing that he had taken lives. 

He used to be a religious person. Right now if someone asks him if he follows a certain God, he would respond with a simple no. But when he sees the bodies of those whom he had to kill, he would offer a silent prayer, asking whoever hears him that their souls could rest in peace.

Leon kills, but he’s also a lover of life. He loves the world and its people. He wants to believe that he'd be reminded as the one who fought for those who couldn’t, even if he didn’t want to be associated with that type of job.

In his mind, it may sound corny but he has started appreciating the simple things in life. The way someone would smile at him in the supermarket, the way a random stranger would greet him even though they don’t know him. It was a nice reminder that he was, in fact, alive.

Your steps break the silence—once again. In your hands, there’s a first aid kit. 

There’s a certain urgency in the way you sit next to him to treat his wounds. Your eyes never leave him as you try to make sure that nothing is hurting him. Even when he has awoken you from your sweet dreams, you’re the same caring and compassionate person as always.

An alcohol swab touches one cut he had on his temple, a bruise already forming on the skin. Proof that his head was literally slammed against a metal tube. Not his proudest moment, if he had to be honest.

“I’m not going to break, you know…” Leon finally speaks as your hand seems to slightly shake out of fear of bringing more pain to him.

You manage to let out a chuckle at his words. “I know. But I’m not taking risks.”

His eyes continue to remain fixated on your face, like a puppy who is looking at a treat. But rather, he’s like a homeless man admiring one of the prettiest houses he has ever seen.

There are no questions asked, nor complaints about anything related to his late-night visit. He appreciates the fact that he’s welcomed no matter what. Nonetheless, he can’t help but thank you for your hospitality.

“Thank you.” He murmurs as you clean another injury that was just above his eyebrow. “You’re too good for me.” Leon's words show a moment of raw sincerity.

Leon’s humanity is palpable, even when he doesn’t notice it. There’s a childlike glimmer in his eyes when he watches his favorite movies, a hint of regret when he talks about his missions, and a big sense of empathy when he speaks about the victims who died at his hands.

Leon’s kindness knows no limits. And you wish everyone could observe what an amazing human he is.

“Why is that?” You asked, scooting closer to hear him better. To pay full attention to what he’s about to say. There’s nothing Leon loves more than knowing he can really talk with someone about his feelings since he has mastered the art of closing off.

“For this…” He admits as his hands gesture your first aid kit, to your apartment as a whole. “I’m not used to being… pampered like this. I get hurt and I fix myself up.” His expression darkens slightly.

“Well… I’m here, aren’t I?” You give Leon a warm smile before pinching one of his cheeks making sure not to touch any of his cuts. “You don’t have to be alone all the time, Leon. You can rely on me.”

Leon’s lips turn into a shy smile as you pinch his cheek. “Yeah, I know.” He’s grateful for your hospitality and overall care. But it’s hard for someone who has always been in solitude to think that it’s okay to rely on someone, that it’s okay to need a person. 

He’s silent for a moment before asking a question that’s been nagging him for a while now. “But… Don’t you get tired of it? Of taking care of me?”

You instantly shake your head, responding with a blunt “Nope, never.” In fact, you would be awake all night long just to make sure he was alright. 

“You’re a God’s sent… I swear.” He chuckles as his gaze moves towards his own hands which are fidgeting. As if he was looking for something to grab, to hold onto. 

He hesitates for a few seconds, he doesn’t want to overstep boundaries but then again… He’s not used to being touched let alone hugged. But right now… he craves feeling the tender and intimate affection that a hug brings.

When was the last time he was touched? He doesn’t remember. The sole thought of admitting it’s been months if not years that he hasn’t been hugged brings embarrassment to his already troubled mind. 

You notice, you know Leon a little too well. You recognize every little quirk he has, from the way he sometimes sticks out his tongue when he’s focused on something to the way he looks at everyone before delivering a punchline.

But you wait for him, you want him to be comfortable. 

As a sigh leaves his lips, he finally speaks. “Can you hug me?” His words come out hushed, as if ashamed of himself for asking something so… banal, so simple. “I really need it.”

The way he speaks, the way his voice suddenly cracks and the way his fingers twitch even more tell you enough.

“Come here.” You encourage him, opening your arms. He wastes no time getting himself closer and wrapping his arms around you. The kindness that you’re showing him could bring him to tears, but he doesn’t let them fall. Right now, he just wants to be embraced.

He was bigger than you, being an agent built his body to be ready to fight, to kill. Of course his muscles would basically bury your frame as he curls himself into the hug. But funnily enough, he feels like a kitten that found solace on a rainy day. He feels getting even smaller and almost disappearing from the catastrophes of this world.

He could easily rest his head on your shoulder. But instead, he decides to bury his face in the crook of your neck, feeling even more at ease in this peaceful moment. Closing his eyes, he lets the warmth of your body soothe his aching soul.

He always takes care of everyone, his mind and soul are connected to people he may as well never see again. He feels too much, he feels everything. Nevertheless, there are times when he wants to be the one being doted on, to feel safe.

And right now… he is safe.

“You may think I’m stupid…” His words are muffled as his face is pressed into your neck, his stubble ever so slightly brushing against your skin.

“I sometimes think you’re stupid.” You tease him, trying to bring some humor to the situation as you sense that Leon is starting to doubt himself. Your arms hug him closer, tighter. Letting him know that you aren’t going anywhere. “But right now… I think you’re the most amazing person ever.”

Leon doesn’t say anything for the moment. His breathing is steady and calm, drowning in your so familiar scent. His fingers caress the back of your head, touching your hair reminding himself that you were there, as if the hug wasn’t enough.

“You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever known.” You murmur, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “You fight so much, you’re so important to many people. You don’t even know how much I thank life for having a Leon Kennedy next to me.”

Your words break his heart a little. Not because you said something wrong, not at all. But rather… he can’t imagine how his existence could bring happiness to someone. Chris, Rebecca, hell everyone has helped him a lot. But you are like an anchor which he clings to.

“Don’t feed a stray dog…” He tries joking, but his voice is barely a whisper. You’re used to his jokes. Most of the time, they are harmless and light-hearted. However, sometimes they served to hide what he was truly feeling. “They’ll always come back.”

“I don’t want you to come back…”  You respond. letting your hand rub his back. “I want you to stay.”

And Leon is definitely going to stay, he’s going to stay with you and with everyone else. He will fight off every bioweapon, he will succeed in every mission. Just to come back to his home and to his life. A life he’s learning to love and enjoy.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”