#rookie leon kennedy x reader

[fortune-fool02]

In Her Grasp

Leon Kennedy x Serial killer female reader

Summary: The rookie policeman finds himself in the claws of a notorious serial killer. 

Warning: Angst. Blood. Kidnapping. Dark themes. Torture. Serial killer themes. 

Word count: 2,373

Thank you for reading this. I've been planning this for a bit now and wanted to write something angsty for this baby boy. Please leave feedback and reblog as it really helps and is very appreciated. Thank you. 

Please enjoy. 

The door opened and [Name] stepped into the house, softly humming as she closed the door behind her and took her shoes and jacket off, setting them aside. She carried the bags into the kitchen, setting them aside and pulling out the contents she had purchased. A visit to the D.I.Y shop had given her some rope, thick, black cloth and some other bits and pieces. 

After putting away her shopping, she gathered the rope and cloth, heading towards the cellar door. Darkness completely encased the cellar, making the steps leading down to it appear to vanish beyond the first two. Unfazed, she continued down them, flicking a light switch at the base of them. A weak flicker sparked, casting a small pale yellow light out, doing little to brighten the room. Her guest remained secured to his seat. The man was stripped of his clothing, rope tied securely around his ankles and wrists, binding them together to prevent any attempt of escape. Noise-cancelling headphones over his ears with thick cloth around his eyes, blocking out his vision and hearing. 

He was no one. Someone she picked up a few days ago and had been keeping him here since. Walking over, she stood in front of him and looked at him. Black and blue blotches covered his skin, the hard strike of a bat or metal pole leaving their mark. The rope burns gnawing away at his wrists and ankles, an ugly red raw against his skin. She had her fun with him before, hearing him cry out and beg for forgiveness for something he hadn’t even done. Hell, she didn’t even know the man’s name. There was truly nothing personal about this. He was just there at the wrong time. 

Moving around the other side of the chair, she held up the piece of rope in one hand and used another to drag a stool over, securing the rope to a hook in the ceiling. Giving it a firm tug, she was satisfied with its security before using the other side of it to wrap around the man’s neck, feeling him whimpering behind the gag in his mouth. Once it was on, she tied the other side of the rope to a heavy weight on the table before pushing it off, letting it fall to the floor. The man was lifted up into the air and held there, pained gasps and cries were cut off by the rope. [Name] just stood there and watched his legs try and kick around for a few minutes before his body went still. Pulling on some disposable gloves, she walked over and pulled the cloth off his eyes to confirm he was dead, a small smile tugging her lips at the sight of his hollow, empty eyes. 

A sense of fulfilment flooded her body, a comforting sensation that made the smile on her lips grow more. She savoured it for a bit longer, looking into those empty eyes, imagining how they must have looked in their final moments of light as the life slowly faded from them. Regardless, she turned herself away, her attention now on a new prey, a new target. A photograph was pinned on the wall, those sweet, baby blue eyes staring at the camera with such vibrant light with the shadows casting due to his hair. The policeman uniform peaking just above the bottom edge. The rookie policeman at R.C.P.D. At the bottom of the picture was a name: 

‘Leon. S. Kennedy’ 

Her latest target. It had been chance that they had crossed paths, a man had tried to mug her in the street and he swooped in to her aid. Something about him had made her whole world freeze in place, like the frozen film of a camera. A streak of vibrant colour in her bleak, bland world. From that moment on, Leon was the only thing in her mind, haunting her thoughts like a siren’s song. Any other target was nothing to her anymore, very little enjoyment pulled from their time together. None of them had that look in their eyes like Leon did. That sweet little glimmer, a twinkling star in his eyes. 

There was something about him being a policeman that made the whole ordeal that more enticing. A man in uniform, ready to serve and protect innocents from people like her, and yet, he was oblivious to the threat that stood in front of him. The fly gazing at the spider, falling deeper and deeper into her web.

[Name] disposed of the body, wiping everything down and scrubbing it clean to ensure there was nothing left behind. Nothing of that boring thing's presence as even an indication he even existed. Once done, she picked up her phone and dialled the number Leon had given her.

Her voice soft and sweet as honey as she spoke to him, wishing to speak to him in person to discuss something of importance before hanging up the phone. Grabbing her bag, she headed out. 

- 

Leon sat in his car, looking down at his phone, reading over the text messages. This was the spot [Name] told him to meet her at. The street was quiet, especially at this time of night. A knot of worry irritated his stomach, [Name] wouldn’t say what was wrong, just that they needed to meet in person and it was important. He was off duty so he made his way over as soon as he could. 

His window was rolled down, allowing the night’s cool breeze to brush through his hair, past his cheeks with a gentle touch as his eyes scanned around again for the [Hair colour] woman. He brought his phone back up, his fingers moving along the screen as he sent her a text message and sent it off. A ping behind him drew his attention, the sudden feeling of cloth shoved in his face brought a pang of concern and worry. The grip held the cloth firmly in place while the other hand latched onto his arm, keeping it down as the chemicals entered his system. 

Muffled cries and yells soon grew quieter, his attempts at fighting slowing as his muscles grew heavy, his vision swimming a little before encasing in darkness. 

When he awoke, his head ached. A pounding in rhythm of his heartbeat that made the back of his eyes hurt. He turned his head, trying to bring his hand up to his eyes but found it held firmly in place. The rough texture of rope chewing into his wrists, panic shot through him, forcing the drowsiness away as he took in his surroundings. Darkness filled every corner, making it difficult to make anything out. His clothing had been stripped away, leaving nothing but his underwear, as was his handgun he kept on him at all times. The coldness seeped into his skin, raising goosebumps along his skin. 

He couldn’t panic now. He had to think and try to figure out how to escape. The rope was secured tightly, restricting movement. Faint, light taps could be heard above his head, settled in a steady rhythm. Footsteps. Followed by a click of a lock before the door opened, the footsteps making their way downstairs. A light was turned on, casting a weak light around him. 

“...[Name]?” Confusion was thick on his voice, his eyes locked on the woman. What was going on? 

“Oh, I thought you’d still be asleep.” Her voice held that sweetness to it, the same sweetness that Leon has ever known from her since the moment he met her. She passed by him, setting a bag down somewhere behind him. Leon tried to follow her but he couldn’t turn his head far enough. 

“What’s going on, [Name]? Let me go!” He demanded, trying to keep his voice firm but those little cracks in it gave him away. He felt vulnerable. Weak. He couldn't escape these binds, he couldn't defend himself. Left at the mercy of the woman with the sweet smile.

"I can't do that, even if I wanted to, Leon." She moved around, settling back in his line of sight. A chair scrapped across the floor and she seated herself directly across from him. Their knees touching. There was something unsettling in those pretty eyes of hers, as if he was gazing into the eyes of a viper ready to strike. Dread coiled in his stomach.

"You see, for a policeman, I was kinda expecting you to put up a little more of a fight. Or at least have been more alert, especially when there's a serial killer on the loose." [Name] lightly scolded, as if talking to a child who was misbehaving and being reckless. "But I can't blame you. You're the new rookie. Things like this don't happen to the rookies, eh?"

Leon tried to keep his breathing steady, gripping his bindings a little as he tried to assess the situation and tore his eyes away from her, tried to think of an escape. Something metal flashed in the low light, and he felt the cold kiss of a steel blade under his chin, tilting his head up lightly. "Don't look away from me, Kennedy." Her voice, just like her eyes, held a venom to them that was sharper than this knife under his chin.

"[Name], please. You need help-" The tip of the knife pressed itself into his skin, just enough to draw a single droplet of blood, a stinging sensation followed.

"I've been told I've needed help my entire life." She slowly pulled the knife away from him, her eyes not once moving off of him, "This, all of this, helps me." Her other hand rested on his knee and she leaned close to him. He could feel her warm breath against his lips. She brought the blade to her open lips, gently smearing the droplet of blood on her lips like it was lip-gloss before grabbing a fist full of his hair, yanking his head closer and pressing her lips onto his.

A surprised sound spilled his lips, the taste of his blood on her soft lips, lips he had dreamed about kissing time and time before, but not like this. [Name] held him there for a few seconds, savouring his lips before pulling away with a smile.

"If you behave, like a good boy, then this won't be as unpleasant as I can make it." Beneath that soft, honey-laced tone, beneath those twinkling eyes, there was a threat there. A promise of danger if he doesn't listen to her. A mouse trapped in the claws of a cat.

-

Despite his best efforts to keep track of time, it was hard to do so in this cellar. [Name] had set this little routine of sorts. Whenever she would leave him, she would cover his eyes with a blindfold, and cover his ears with headphones that played different music, music that he loved, all of his favourite songs, at a comfortable audio. All the times they had hung out together, all those moments they shared, she had been learning about him, studying him, picking out information to use in her favour.

But this time, [Name] had something else in mind for him. Leon had attempted to try and escape while she had been "gone". He had gotten free of his restraints, he had made it up the stairs and out the front door, only to find the woman herself sitting on her porch right outside the front door. She had been waiting for him to try and escape. She knew he would try to escape. And the second her eyes met his, and he saw that disappointed look in them, he felt his blood run cold.

Now, Leon was back in the cellar, his body secured so he was laid bare before her on the cold, stone floor. His wrists and ankles tied to prevent any form of movement, any form of resistance was impossible.

"You know, I really didn't want to do this to you, Leon." [Name] spoke, her back facing him as she set something up on the desk across from him. In her hand, she held an old leather belt with a large, metal buckle at the end. Her hand motioned to the clock she had set up. An old pendulum clock. Confusion chewed at him at the sight of the clock.

"Every sixth tick from the pendulum, I am going to hit you with this belt. Every seventh tick, I am going to kiss you." She explained calmly to him, her fingers gently brushing strands of his hair from his face, she wanted to see his expression as she did this.

With that, she pressed the key on the back of the clock and allowed the pendulum to begin swinging.

"Wait, [Name], I-I didn't-" Before Leon could finish his sentence, a piercing snap of leather filled the room, followed by a burning, biting pain in his side from the belt buckle. A pained cry ripped from his throat as his body tensed, the pain throbbing in his side. But not a moment later, her lips were on his cheek in a gentle, almost loving kiss. The two opposite interactions conflicted with one another. Her loving kiss on his cheek was warm compared to the cold bite of the belt buckle. Each time it struck his flesh, her lips were on his skin without fail.

Six strikes. Six kisses passed before the pendulum's dreaded ticking finally fell silent. [Name] setting the belt down beside the clock and moving over to Leon's side, her hands gently on his skin as she stroked his cheek, smiling at him.

"See? If you behave, I won't have to do this. I don't want to hurt you, Leon. So please don't make me, baby." [Name] leaned down and kissed his lips, humming softly as he tried to pull away from her. He only looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixed concoction of fear and unease at her.

She loved that look, but she wanted to see something else in those pretty eyes of his.

"Don't worry, baby." She smiled at him, "You'll learn to come around. Then we can be happy together."

[fill3dwithvitriol]

i cannot breathe oml

[gnawingonleonsbicep]

Thinking about kissing and smooching and treating rookie Leon like a big old baby.

And I just know he’d be taken aback and get a little bashful. Or even just get a little pouty and grumpy as you squish and pinch his cheeks, but you can’t help it !! He’s just so cute !!

He’s just so pretty princess babygirl cutie patootie pumpkin pie angel baby snookums honeybun apple of your eye. (You’ve called him all of those at once, and he looked at you like you had grown a second head. While he isn’t opposed to your expression of affection, he wasn’t expecting the word vomit while you had his face in your hands.)

Oh, and not to mention the cuteness aggression. You have to mentally restrain yourself from jumping him the moment he gets home, pinching at his cheeks, peppering his stupid face with kisses. Oh, how you wish you could bite down on him and shake him around like a chew toy. Or put him in a jar and shake him around until he’s all dizzy and has cartoon birds flying around his head. Or pick him up and put him in your pocket so you can take him with you everywhere.

You’re practically bouncing off the walls while you count down the minutes until your stupidly handsome boyfriend gets home. So you can shower him with your love and affection, even if it’s a bit excessive or shown in unusual ways. (Like gnawing on his arm cause he’s just too adorable, and it drives you crazy.)

[localkiss]

(pic creds: bluwleon)

cw: public sex w/o protection :3 + lil fluff!

i want re2 leon to go on a walk with me. Need him to nerd out on me. Like yess babe, I want to hear all about the rpd!

Let me hear about all the people you've arrested! Oh no, someone tried flirting their way out of a ticket and you thought of me? 🫣 Should've knocked her ass out leon!

Need to see his eyes light up and his cute lil smile.

But also.... I need him to pin me down and to feed me through his mouth. Needd him to whisper dirty things in my ear. And to try and arouse me in public! (Whilst making himself harder than a rock, having to readjust himself every couple of minutes).

Imagine doing cute lil things with him while you're on a date, like lets say, at the beach; and then he just loves you too much he gets horny just from being so affectionate with you. It becomes harder for him to control himself. So he just decides to pull you into a secluded spot and pleads with you to help him out.

"Please baby, let me put it inside for a little bit. Promise I'll buy you an ice cream afterwards." His defined arms wrap around your waist as he whispers to you. Bulge pressing against your lower back.

"Fine. You better buy me a waffle cone ice cream," you sigh, trying to hold back a smile. "And let me get two scoops."

"Deal." He peppers your neck with kisses, while he pulls up the sundress you're wearing. Lazily pulling your panties to the side and pulling his cock out through the hole in his briefs. Gently rubbing the tip against your folds, spreading your juices to ensure it's not dry as he pushes it in.

You brace yourself on the rock that's shielding you both from the rest of the beach. Angling your hips to try and make it easier on you both. Slowly breathing in and out, you feel the tip stretching out your hole as it pushes into your wetness.

Leon stops halfway and groans, "Babe, you're so fucking tight," he noses his way up to your cheek and presses a sloppy kiss there. "Relax, princess. Relax for me, okay?"

"Mm.. 'kay," you whine softly. His hands gripping the fat of your hips, which are soon to be bruised, as he pushes it all the way in. Pelvis flushed against your backside.

Moving his hands to gently rubbing your stomach before dipping down between your thighs. Finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, making you flutter around his length.

"Atta girl," he moans, pulling out and gently thrusting it back in. Finding a slow rhythm for now as he tries to focus on you and making sure you feel good too.

"Leon," you groan, pushing yourself back on his length. "Faster."

His thrusts speed up at the last breath of your sentence. Sloppy and fast. Especially since you're trying to meet his pace, bouncing back on him.

Soft plap, plap, plap's can be heard above the waves of the ocean and the people talking. His mouth attaches itself on your neck, biting into the delicacy that is your skin.

Hands moving to grip onto your waist, molding into the shape of his fingers.

"Baby, it feels s'good." He pants, before letting one of his hands grab onto your jaw. His chapped lips landing on yours in a messy kiss. Moaning and groaning into your mouth as he swaps spit with you. "Just know your pussy missed me. Know she missed my creampies."

Leon's once baby blue eyes meet yours, now dark with lust and love for you.

:3 me wants to consume him okay!!!

[geneviveleocardius]

rookie leon kennedy romantic headcanons

but he's in love with you, his superior, and older than him

leon can’t help but stumble over his words when he talks to you, looking at you with wide, admiring eyes, stammering, “yes, ma’am—uh, sir—I mean, yes!”

he goes above and beyond with every task you give him, eagerly saying, “i’ll take care of it!” even if it’s something as mundane as organizing files.

leon often catches himself staring at you during meetings, quickly looking away when you glance his way, his face turning bright red.

whenever you speak, he’s laser-focused, nodding along and memorizing every instruction, not just because you’re his superior, but because he admires you so much.

he tries to compliment you casually but ends up blurting things like, “you’re really good at… everything, actually,” before wanting to crawl into a hole.

when you acknowledge his hard work, leon looks down, rubbing the back of his neck as he mumbles, “just doing my job,” even though your approval makes his heart race.

leon sometimes gets lost in thought imagining what it would be like to spend time with you outside of work, only to snap back to reality when you call his name.

he’s extra formal with you, addressing you as “ma’am” or “sir” in every sentence, but his voice softens when he adds, “is there anything else i can do for you?”

even though you’re more experienced, leon’s rookie instincts make him overly protective, saying, “i’ll take point,” and nervously glancing back to check on you.

leon constantly asks for your advice, saying, “how would you handle this?” not just to improve as a cop, but to understand your perspective better.

he feels a pang of jealousy whenever someone else gets your attention, but he hides it by pretending to focus on his work, stealing quick glances to see if you notice him.

leon tries to help you in small ways, like bringing you coffee or fixing a squeaky chair, brushing it off with, “it’s no big deal,” but secretly hoping you’ll smile at him.

when you’re close to him, leon stiffens, trying to act professional, but his heart races so loudly he’s sure you can hear it.

he tries to joke with you, saying things like, “so… do all great leaders drink black coffee, or is that just your thing?” only to panic when you raise an eyebrow.

leon works extra hard on missions, desperate to show you he’s capable, saying, “i’ve got your back,” even when he’s clearly nervous.

he listens intently whenever you talk about your past cases, leaning forward and saying, “that’s incredible. i hope i can be half as good as you someday.”

he once tried to leave a thank-you note on your desk but panicked halfway through writing it, crumpling it up and throwing it away when he couldn’t get the words right.

leon can’t help but admire how confident you look in action, quickly looking away when you catch him staring and stammering, “uh—nice work!”

he’s terrible at expressing his feelings, but every action—from holding the door open to going out of his way to help—is his way of showing how much he admires you.

when you show concern for him after a tough mission, leon’s cheeks turn pink as he mutters, “you don’t have to worry about me,” even though your care means everything to him.

[owliellder]

taking a moment to appreciate re2r leon with long hair cause i did that with re4r leon already

my soft spot is for re2r leon anyways, he's so baby girl and perfect and god i just want to hold him in my arms and tell him everything is gonna be okay

[coff33notforme]

Healing!Re2 Leon

A/n: So so sorry I haven't posted anything in so long, I genuinely lost my love for writing for I think its been officially been a year since I last wrote something for fun. Don't fact check me on that, but I'm back! I'm trying to let myself just have fun with writing and not take myself so seriously so please be patient with me! Expect a lot of Resident Evil content from me! And don't be afraid to request! I'll be sure to update my request chart!

Summary: Takes place between re2 and re4! Basically just what happened to him after Raccoon city.

Notes: Headcannons, fluff mostly, themes of depression, alcoholism, body issues, gender neutral reader as usual!

Nothing could've prepared you for the look on his face when he arrived home. Opening your door for him at 11:00 at night, his face silhouetted by the gentle light of your porch lamp. His pale eyes seemed to be looking through you, his face tight with the unconscious clenching of his jaw, his adams apple bobbing faintly. The hum of your porch light filling your head.

Well, that was before you were cupping his face, you couldn't even remember the movement forward, all you could take in was the impact of his embrace. His arms wrapped tightly around you, and if it wasn't for the fact it was twenty degrees out, you'd say he was shaking.

Safe to say he'd move in with you after everything that happened, he needed that sense of security, that familiarity that he'd swear was almost entirely lost on him. He was wordlessly welcomed back into your life.

Though it wasn't all the same, he'd hope it would be, God he really wished. It was weird, having him back around, he was quiet, not in an awkward kind of way, he just didn't feel the need to make his presence known. This isn't to say he doesn't engage in conversation with you, he'll just need more of an obvious cue that you'd like to spark a conversation with him.

Leon won't exactly know what to do with himself, he tried giving himself a week to adjust, then back to the drawing board, that's what he told you. You assured him there was no pressure to jump right back into employment, he'd been through something truly life changing, I mean, it took you two whole months to just get over your dog running away in highshcool.

He'd brush it off of course, he wasn't devastated, at least, not in the way you described, it wouldn't even be anything hard, just something simple. Like retail.

That lasted about two weeks, the first week itself just being job searching, but once he got into the flow and rhythm of stacking supplies in the back of some chain line grocery store, he'd have to quit. That kind of meaningless repetitive work only fed into his existential crisis that had been put on the back burner for far too long.

He'd call you crying during his shift, you'd have to pick him up, parking somewhere close so you could calm him down, he'd spill everything out to you. Rambling on and on about not wanting to spend the prime of his life stacking cans and rearranging produce.

Well at least that's how far he got before embarrassment came crawling up his back, digging its nails into his throat until it felt so tight he couldn't speak.

The drive home would be quiet, not the comfortable kind.

He'd spend a lot of time at home, long enough to where you not its not a phase, and that he's not not getting out of bed without an intervention of some kind.

He admits after weeks of obvious reluctance that he's not ready to work again, he just needs time. You assure him that its completely fine, though you're not entirely sure how much that statement holds true you don't mind picking up some extra shifts if it means comfortably supporting you both.

But that isn't to say he doesn't contribute at all, he's the one preparing all the meals every week. He's the one taking trips to the store, jotting down meal ideas on the pen pad you'd gotten him after the silent acceptance that he'd taken to doing all the cooking.

This goes for chores too, though he wouldn't take to that immediately, he's not used to viewing the house as more then somewhere he eats and sleeps, its only after a comment from you about the disarray of the living room would spark him into action.

After that you haven't seen a speck of dust grace your living room floors since. It's the least he could do since you're funding his identity crisis, well that's what he thinks.

Leon struggles with healthy attachment, he's still not used to the idea that he won't wake up and you'll be gone. Though this doesn't mean he's completely distant.

He does little things to show how much he cares. Like waking up early to prepare your breakfast with a warm cup of coffee, or how he always asks you first what you'd like for dinner.

Though he won't admit it, most days are a struggle. Not every day, but those are the ones where he gets to spend some quality time with you, or he washes it off with a can of beer or two.

He'd hate himself to admit it to you, but he's developed a bit of a drinking problem with all that time at home.

Though once you notice the amount of cans piling up in the recycling he'd guiltily admit that he's been using it to cope, though he doesn't say exactly with what.

You'd encourage him to take up therapy, though he'd hastily deny, you offered him to at least think about it, though the very idea of opening up to a stranger about his problems seemed absolutely absurd.

After a bit of time though, especially when you express your concern with his drinking, he yields. 

Of course with the excessive eating of comfort foods and now only occasional drinking, he’d developed a bit of a dad bod. He didn’t seem to notice at first, but one morning it seems to hit him all at once when he inspects himself in the mirror.

He’ll fiddle and prod at the soft pudge dripping from his sides, like the melted wax of a candle. His doughy thighs pressed together. He’s not really sure how to react, all he feels is this sort of disconnection from himself, like the person in the mirror isn’t really him. 

He’ll avoid it for months, but the changes are clear to you whether he knows or not. But it doesn’t fail to hit you that he hasn’t walked around without a shirt in weeks, not just a shirt, but the kind that completely engulfs his figure, until he’s practically swimming in material. 

You’ll have to intervene at some point, he’ll feel the weight of guilt pressing down onto his shoulders until he humbly admits, yeah, he doesn’t like the way his body looks anymore. You’ll need to have a conversation with him, assure him that it’s okay to gain weight, you don’t love him less just because he’s a little more soft around the middle. 

He’ll need you to gently coax him into being more comfortable with showing his body around you. Gently holding his hips when he's making his coffee in the morning, leaning into him when he hugs you, telling him when you think he looks nice. Just little things that really do boost his confidence. 

After months of unwavering support from you, he’ll notice the lack of disdain he feels when glancing at his reflection on passing surfaces. He'll be comfortable enough to let his belly breathe from time to time when walking around the house, maybe even offering to shower with you when given the chance. 

Of course, progress isn’t linear, he’ll have his days where he wishes more than anything the fat clinging to his frame would melt, like snow dripping from a rooftop against the breath of the morning sun. 

But at least now he feels comfortable admitting to you he isn’t always happy being in his own skin, and he knows you won’t try to correct his thoughts, rather then simply reassure him. He’s far from perfect, but more then anything you’re just glad he’s here.

©️ coff33notforme 2025 please don’t feed into any ai chatbot, or repost my content.Please reblog is you enjoyed! It means a lot!

[c0smoshit]

Afternoon cuddles ˚₊﹅

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Leon/Reader

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕝𝕠𝕥 ≫ Leon is jealous of your books

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ fluff, cuddly Leon, him crushing you into the bed, not proofread!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ Lil drabble for my fav rookie🤧

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 560

Dawn was starting to form in the horizon, it's warm hues of sunlight soon fading out and creating a colder ambience inside your shared room.

You were the coziest you could had ever been inside your soft blankets, your back resting on your pillows as a cute plushie accompanied you in this pleasant afternoon.

You were totally immersed in your lecture, the dim tangerine beams of your night lamp lighting up the words of the book placed on your lap.

You noticed the creaking sound of the door and the heavy footsteps of someone coming in, you turned the page.

"Hey"

Your eyes didn't require the necessity of peeking over from your book to know who had entered. You heard him say something to you but you were too invested reading to process his words.

Your mouth didn't even have the proper time to open up and complain about him taking away the book from your hands as the sudden "plof! " of a big body falling on top of both you and the mattress cut you off.

His arms caged you bellow him, his hair trickling the side of your cheek as his weight crushed you to the bed. His shoulder was just bellow your chin and your arms were trapped by his bare chest.

"Why are you reading so late?"

You could feel the clench his stomach made when he spoke, slightly irritated words followed by the huskiness of his voice.

"You don't want me to?"

His head shook, and you couldn't figure out if it was his hair that moved and trickled your neck or his out of nowhere cuteness that made you chuckle.

"Let me move Leon"

"No"

Then he continued to draw you closer to him, you squirmed but it was always useless, he was a complete rock on top of you. Your cheeks started to redden, the warmth of your personal heater enveloping you.

"I hate those stupid books"

A few more grunts left your mouth before you gave up, your head falling on top of the mattress tiredly.

"Okay fine, you win"

You sighed out exaggeratedly and you noticed a smirk burning into his face.

He had just returned from work, tiredly discarding everything but some shorts. He wasn't usually this clingy with you, he must've had a bad day or something, you thought.

"Bad day at work?"

His body finally moved a bit, freeing your hands that almost immediatly wrapped behind his neck, massaging softly the spots that made him groan out. He leant into your sweet touch, he loved your massages, the only incentive he had when he went to work was your afterwards touch.

"It's okay babe, relax for me"

He sighed out, automatically doing what he was told and as a result, you sinked deeper into the mattress.

You, not so secretly, loved when he came home like this. He acted like a lost puppy, demanding the love he hadn't got at work.

You stayed silent, drawing soothing circles on his shoulders, movements growing longer and firmer. His cheek rested on your shoulder while his arms slowly wrapped around your waist, pressing you further into his body.

"I missed you"

You smiled, of course he had missed you even though he was only gone for a few hours.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Incorrect Quotes

(Y/n) - My tits are awfully heavy, mind holding them for me for a while? 😏

Leon - Oh my god yes, PLEASE! 🥺

[stuckinthesun]

You watch the cuffs click into place, the cool metal against your skin making you shiver a little, “You’re serious?”

“The possession of marijuana is illegal, Ma’am.” The officer said, gently leading you away from your car and toward his vehicle.

“It’s an old joint from when I was in high school!” You cried, turning to look at him. The man was very handsome, bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that looked soft.

Suddenly you got an idea.

“Wait wait, I can explain okay? If you can just let me explain officer…” You let the sentence hang, hoping he goes for the bait.

The man stops walking and sighs, “Kennedy, Officer Kennedy.”

If you could smirk without giving yourself away, you would.

“Officer Kennedy,” You repeat with a nod and give him a small smile, “I have an idea that I think will benefit both of us.”

“Oh really?” Kennedy asks, raising an eyebrow at you. He let’s go of your arm now, turning you to face him properly, “And what’s that?”

“Well,” You hummed and grabbed the hem of your skirt, pulling it up a little.

The officers eyes instantly track your movement, widening at the sight. Suddenly he’s standing in front of you, pushing you back a against the squad car a little, a looking around frantically like he’s scared someone will see.

“What are you doing?!” Kennedy hisses, pointedly not looking down and that only makes you smirk, “Someone could see!”

“Yeah, you.” You say, lifting your skirt higher.

He grabs the chain connecting your wrist and pushes it down, forcing your hands and skirt along with it, “Stop, I’m serious. I’m not going to do anything like that with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

With a smirk you tilt one of your hands up, brushing your finger along the obvious bulge forming in his uniform pants. Kennedy let’s out a surprised gasp, closing his eyes and involuntarily bucking his hips against you.

Again, you ask, “You sure?”

[xmorguekittyx]

Chapter 1 : 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 & 𝘽𝙡𝙪𝙚

master list

Pattering, the sound of the rain pelting the windshield and the whooshing of wind kissing her windows had her heart feeling like it was in her throat. The pulsing of her heartbeat, she could almost taste it. "The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning in these following counties-", shit. It never sees to fail that while she was the most nervous, things would continue to get worse and worse. Strikes of lightening lit up the soaked pavement, there was at least 30 more miles before she hit Raccoon City outskirts. She should've postponed heading out of town, but Desmond needed some Blood BeGone soap, which she had been sent to go deliver. The storm seemed to put everyone out of commission. It was a crying shame, honestly. "-IMPACTS... Flying debris will be dangerous to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be damaged or destroyed. Damage to roofs, windows, and vehicles will occur. Tree damage is likely.  You are in a life-threatening situation. Flying debris may be deadly to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be destroyed. Considerable damage to homes...businesses...and vehicles is likely and complete destruction is possible.", Jesus, could things get worse? 

    They could; the storm seemed to be a little bit before schedule, her headlights illuminating branches and twigs laid over the pavement. The rain blurring the image as she leaned forwards, praying that the branches would grant her mercy and not wreak havoc on her tires. Surely, one thing had to go right, right? Maybe the gods could pass on a little favoritism. The road had to be cleared, but she would have to make it across, her eyes squint to try and find some distinguishable marker for her calling the sheriff's office once she gets back to the morgue. They should be able to stop traffic at least for the night, hopefully nobody has had to come through- a small gasp part her lips. Between the trees sat a blue Honda, the car having the trunk popped and, absolutely, nobody around. A sick feeling of unease crept up her throat as she eyed the car, analyzing, again, anything she could remember to tell police. Part of her wanted to jump out and make sure everything was okay, but the lights were shut off, she could only see it as her head lights shinned past it. It was just unfortunate timing; she could feel the gusts of wind trying to sway her car. Hopefully they had been picked up and just forgot the trunk, as much as that would suck; that was the best outcome. Especially with how bodies had been piling up at her job. 

   The anxiety she felt from the storm and car hit an all-time high as she heard the beginning of Nobody by Avenged Sevenfold start to play from her cupholder, jarring her already frazzled mind. The photo of Leon Kennedy flickering in her screen, it was from when her father had still been alive, working at the same police station Leon did. He passed right when Leon joined, but that had been a few years ago. No matter how much it felt like it was yesterday, time was moving fast, but she felt like she was being left behind. Her eyes glanced up at the road before she slammed on the breaks, a doe running across the street as her tires locked up, squealing as her phone fell into the floorboards. Hands fighting the steering wheel as she tried to steady the car and her heart. "I'll have a damn heart attack before I even make it back.", she sighed, her chest expanding to take in all the air she could. Nobody playing once more, had her nearly jumping out of her skin as she scrambled with the phone, scooping it from the floor. "Hello?", she held the phone to her ear, sitting in the car, she couldn't bare driving right now. Afraid was an understatement, it appears the gods found no favor for her, this night. "Where are you?  Harvy has been blowing up my office phone demanding I start up a missing person's report.", his airy and slow voice drawled over the receiver. "Well...", her eyes went back through the droplet covered window. "The roads are getting worse, I've been having some trouble returning to the morgue.", she felt the air build up on her lungs before letting it out in a huff. "Hey- Leon?", she figured now was better than never to tell him all the shit that had gone on tonight. "There's a car up here on mile marker 37, trunk's open and lights are off. It's parked in the woods a little off the shoulder. You think you guys could come check it out and clear the road?", if they would tonight, would be the real question. "I'll head out first thing in the morning, it's unsafe to be out there right now. You said mile marker 37? There's a motel just a few roads south of you. If I were you, I'd stop in for the night, Kitty.", his voice sounded like honey poured on pancakes in the golden hour of sunrise. Hot coffee laying in the windowsill as the day started early on. Saying Katerina Visage had a crush on Leon Kennedy would've resulted in pink cheeks and embarrassed groans. Now, it left her wondering; what if? 

     "Yeah, I'll stop there for the night. I'll have to book it on foot, during this but-", her voice trailed off. "It's better than getting kidnapped or taken in a tornado in your car.", sometimes, he sounded like her dad. "It's... rough out here.", her voice was full of exhaustion. It felt like today had lasted the week, "You mind stopping by in the morning on your way to check things out? It would make me feel a little better just seeing you.", in all honesty, she was spooked. The storm, the car, the deer, the motel she'd never even heard of before. "Yeah, don't worry about that. First thing in the morning I'll be at that motel, waiting to take you back home. I'll get your car towed; Chief Iron's wouldn't want you paying for that.", he sounded like he was stretching, she was sure that it must've been a slow night for the men. The rain probably the only mischief Raccoon City had going on tonight. "Thank you, Leon. I don't know what I'd do without you.", her teeth sunk into the dead skin around her nails. "I guess I'm about to start walking, I'll message you once I get there, okay?", her voice was full of dread. The walk was not super familiar, especially in the dark with a nearly dead road. "Stay safe, Kit. Don't be afraid to call me if anything happens.", he had a soft tone with those words, Kitty remembered Leon being the rookie. She was 17 when she first saw the 21 year old, fresh from the academy walk into RPD. Her dad being one of the first to welcome him.

     "My daughter put up a banner for you, we've all been excited to have you join.", he waved to the circle banner that read. 'Welcome Leon', the 'e' in Leon was twisted but she was so proud of hanging it. Her smile wide as she also introduced herself to the man, starting a friendship that grew over a mutual shared space. 

     Her father's passing brought them closer together, her father was always close with Leon. He had been the one to train him on the job. "Just get there and pray there's a room.", she sighed, before grabbing her charger, her phone, wallet and keys. Her body had to tense as she placed her hand on the handle, taking a deep breath of warm air and dryness. She had to just hurry, it was just a coincidence the car was abandoned, right?

[fill3dwithvitriol]

blflfbfnfllflfffffblllllffrrrfffffrrfffrfrf

[ellieslaces]

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. one

presenting: Umbrella’s Hunger Games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: the Hunger Games, an annual show of brutal control the Capitol has over each of the twelve Districts. the Games’ number one sponsor: Umbrella Corporation, the creator of the Games’ most horrific torture strategies and nightmare inducing deaths. these games have always been cautionary, always a far away but constant threat — until you find yourself Reaped and thrown into an area full of your worst fears with 23 other Tributes, all out for blood.

content warnings: harsh language; violence; gore; class discrimination; usual hunger games/resident evil warnings

notes: please note this series will contain heavy themes of violence, gore, class discrimination, and torture. if these subjects trigger you, skip this series or proceed with caution; all the chapters will be super long, just be prepared

word count: 4.26k

now playing: enemy ; imagine dragons with JID

can’t catch me now playlist

the districts ; prologue

Spring had a poetic, two sided story. One of beauty and rebirth, flowers blooming in meadows, rain showers that brought rainbows to the end of a long day. But one also of death and destruction. Spring may as well be a double edged sword, one edge cutting away the dead to make room for the new. The other side a dangerous weapon to cut down upon that year’s newest crop of children unlucky enough to be Reaped.

Spring was a cautionary season, tales and preparations were made during the final months of long winter. Mothers being sure to hold their child close, fathers staying home from whatever jobs they were mandated a little longer in the mornings to get a glimpse at their children’s face before they went away for the day.

Though nothing could ever really prepare anyone for the possibility of their child’s name being called in the Reaping. No soothing words of how much they were loved and how strong they were would ever calm a child scared in their bones of dying — of killing. This was the reality of the Reaping Ceremony. A reality you’d been prepared for, thoroughly.

Since you were able to understand what the Hunger Games were, you’d been trained to survive them. Chris Redfield instructed you to hone your skills in combat, in knife throwing, in handheld weapons, in archery. You were skilled in just about every form of combat, of nearly any possibly thrown your way.

His sister, Claire, trained you to be smart. Not to fall for the similarity of berries, of mixing up plants, of mistaking the signs of infection, to fall into another Tribute’s trap. You were as prepared to survive any surrounding territory as you were to fight someone to the death.

Despite not really being allowed to train you as you weren’t a Tribute, the siblings did it anyway. They had no family save for each other. No parents, no other siblings. Just each other — and you.

Your crumbled, soaked form had been found by the pair when you were a mere eight. A ruthless school bully had taken your pack, jacket, and shoes. Leaving you in the rain on your way home from school.

They’d taken you home, cleaned you up and sent you on your way. It wasn’t until a few days later they realized you had no home. Not really, you were an orphan too, living in the local orphanage. So, they took you in. Despite not really being allowed to, they did. They loved you as their own family. And one of the ways they showed their love, was by teaching you how to survive.

Today was your final Reaping ceremony. Eight years of terror, eight years of worry for your life every time Spring rolled around. This was the final time you had to worry — if you were lucky. If you were lucky, you’d make it out alive, without being subjected to the horrors of the Games that the Umbrella Corporation were so proud of.

You’d heard the tales of what people witnessed — of what Claire and Chris had witnessed. Though they didn’t outright speak of their times in the arena, you’d watched clips of their Games. You’d heard rumors from the people who had seen their Games on broadcast.

The Mutts Chris had to take down by hand and sword to survive and become Victor. The horrors that chased Claire through the woods to push her and the final three Tributes into a cutthroat fight.

These were things you hadn’t experienced yourself, things you hoped you’d never have to experience. Things Chris and Claire prepared you for nonetheless. But even they knew — no amount of preparation could save you from the lingering fear of what you could see. The nightmares you’d have for the remainder of your life. The fact that every year, you’d be dragged out and forced to relive the past for the Capitol’s entertainment. And today was the final day they could ever even try to prepare you.

Your morning was spent as it usually was — an early breakfast and training. Chris had worked with you on your hand to hand combat, while Claire worked with you on your survival skills. Once training had come to a close, you were taken home to be prepared for your final Reaping.

There was no need for Tessarae, you didn’t need to put your name in more than the eight times it would be in the bowl. Chris and Claire provided for you, they never let you starve, never let you go without the things you needed. And it seemed comfort was one of those things.

“Don’t worry, your chances are low.” Claire soothed you as she and Chris walked you toward the square in District One. “And even if you are Reaped, you’re prepared.”

“I know,” you mumbled, nodding. This was the eighth time you’d heard this pre-Reaping speech from Claire. She said this every year.

“You’re strong, you’ll be fine.” And Chris said that every year too.

You appreciated their support, really. It was just hard to think about anything other than the possibility your life could come to a quick and brutal end in a matter of weeks if things took a turn for the worse today.

“I know.” You mumbled, again. And you did know. You were prepared, you were strong. You were all the things the Redfield siblings proclaimed you to be. Despite being the mere age of nineteen, you were a ruthless person, you had a human understanding of mercy, yes. But you also knew how to survive, no matter the circumstances. And anyone would be stupid to forget that.

Although you weren’t the only person who was given the opportunity to prepare for the Games longer before they were even Reaped. It was common in Districts One and Two for the children to be familiar with combat, with survival skills. Most Tributes ended up volunteering for the ability to compete in the Games. Many a sour face had come from the stage over the years a someone stole the Reaped’s chance to fight.

You’d decided long ago that if someone wanted to take your place and volunteer, you’d be happy to let them have your spot. Anything, anything to stay away from the Capitol. Or as far as you could, being from District One. But, being a part of the Redfield family — even if it was unofficial — you weren’t too far out of the Capitol’s reach. It would be the Games or your connection to the Redfield’s that would catch their attention eventually.

“We’ll see you after?” Claire’s voice brought you back to the present, her ever soothing tone causing you to look up at her. She smiled at you, patting your arms with gentle affection. “You’ll be fine.”

You nodded as Chris gave your bicep a small punch before brushing his knuckles along your cheek with playful affection. “We’ll break out that apple crumble tonight, yeah?”

His suggestion made you smile — even though you had luxuries being the family of District One Victors, they still tried to teach you some humility. They taught you to be human, to have compassion and sense and a heart.

“Okay,” you nodded, smiling a little as the pair left you in the lines to sign in for the Reaping. You watched them walk to the stage, greeting the representative from the Capitol who was sent to preform the Reaping — a short man with half shaved hair that was dyed a shocking orange.

The line moved quickly, it always did. The woman at the table pricked your finger, taking blood and registering your name to be entered eight times. Probably one of the least amount of times in the group of children here. You were ushered by the crowd to the section of fellow nineteen year olds, craning your neck for so much as a glimpse of Chris or Claire to soothe your nerves.

You were much different than many of the other around you. Some thrummed with energy, for the chance to swoop in and volunteer if they weren’t lucky enough to be Reaped. You didn’t want to be like them. You didn’t want to be a killer. You didn’t want to be another one of the Capitol’s playthings.

The video of Panem history began to play on the screens flanking the stage, the anthem ringing through the speakers. The sound of President Spencer’s voice echoed through the square with his grand speech of the relationship between the Capitol and the Districts. Peace, he called it. Compliance, he called it. No, it was control. But really, what was the difference at this point?

Once the film came to a close, the Capitol representative stepped forward toward the mic, his smile startlingly white and far too wide to be genuine. He tapped the microphone few times before clearing his throat and speaking.

“Good afternoon, District One, and happy 98th Hunger Games!” His voice matched his face — eccentric, high pitched, grating on the ears.

“Before you all claw up the stage to get your chance, I’ll start with the gentlemen’s names.” The man — whom you remembered was named Allium Copperhead — giggled at his own stupid joke before removing the mic from its stand as he shuffled over toward the bowl containing the boys’ names.

All you could think was how dumb Allium Copperhead looked trotting over toward the bowl. This was another example of the difference between the lesser Districts versus the Careers. Girls always went first, except in the richer Districts. Possibly an advantage, but not really. Boys were the most likely to try to volunteer, most likely to start a fight in the square to get their chance of glory and fame.

This particular part didn’t concern you — your name wasn’t in the boys’ bowl. And it wasn’t as if you had anyone to worry over. Allium reached his hand into the large glass bowl, his citrus orange nails grazing over the slips of paper before plucking one out and shuffling over to the mic stand once more.

“Our District One male Tribute is,” he purposely drew out the suspense, the square collectively holding its breath. This was his thing, suspense. Attention grabber — that’s what Claire called him. “Piers Nivans.”

A collective groan fell from each older boy’s lips as Allium announced who was the male Tribute. Piers Nivans was a bit of a prodigy amongst the District One boys. He was strong and level headed and ruthless as he was kind. Chris had trained him alongside you.

Piers didn’t seem all too happy though as he walked toward the stage. Chris’ eyes followed the boy, face set in an unreadable expression. But you could tell — he wasn’t ecstatic about this. No one dared to volunteer. Not because Piers wanted to be in the games. But because they knew Piers stood a better chance the any of them.

Once Piers had reached the stage and Allium shook his hand a little too excitedly, he took his stand on the right side of the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd. As if he were waiting for someone — anyone — to volunteer. To save him from this fresh new hell. No luck.

“Now, for the ladies.” Allium announced in the microphone with a giggled smile, practically skipping over to the girls’ bowl. If you hadn’t been so worried about your fate, you would have rolled your eyes at how childish this grown-ass man was.

But you couldn’t focus on anything other than the thousands of slips of paper in the bowl as he reached in and snatched one up. The square was dead quiet. You heard a girl to your right let out a sigh of anticipation.

The air was thick, the energy unbearable. Your heart raced in your ears, blood thrumming through your veins as Allium stood in front of the mic once more, unfolding the paper.

You almost didn’t hear him call out your name. Almost thought you were hallucinating. It wasn’t until he called out your name once more, all the people in the square turning to your direction that you realized you hadn’t dreamt it. You wanted to cry, throw up, beat up Allium Copperhead and claw the ridiculous make up from his face.

But you did none of those things as you braced yourself, walking up toward the stage. An entire desert ecosystem was born in your mouth as you walked up the steps to the stage. Claire and Chris’ sad gazes caught your eye. God, why’d they have to look at you like that?

You waited, prayed as Allium shook your hand — the feeling of his clammy hands against your own made you even more nauseated than before — for someone to volunteer. No one did. Not even that girl you’d seen before who seemed so eager for her name to be drawn.

No one would volunteer. Because while Piers was the boy prodigy of the District, you were his counterpart. You were the strongest girl in the District, the most capable of winning. Maybe even over Piers. No one dared to take the chance of winning the Games away from the Redfield’s top student.

You stood on the left side of the stage, looking out upon the crowd of children — some relieved not to be Reaped, others irked. How you wished you were able to go home, to not be sent away to the Capitol to kill and possibly die. Maybe, you wouldn’t even try. But you had to, you couldn’t leave Chris and Claire.

“Our District One Tributes, ladies and gentlemen!” Allium announced with a sickeningly cheerful smile. He waved a dramatic hand toward where you and Piers stood at opposite ends of the stage. “Oh, go on now! Shake hands.”

You turned toward Piers, ignoring the way Allium bounced on his heels — you wanted to rip his fucking vocal cords out so you’d never have to hear his agitating voice again. Piers held out his hand, and you took it. Being a good sport you offered a small, sympathetic yet understanding smile.

The irony, two of the strongest and most capable possible Tributes in the District didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to kill and hurt and fight to survive. Despite being molded to do just that. Despite being the only ones with a fighting chance.

You let go of Piers’ hand, turning back toward the crowd as Allium Copperhead made his final goodbyes. Thank God, he would finally leave you the fuck alone. Maybe dying in the arena wouldn’t be so bad if it meant never having to see this crack job ever again. The orange-headed man placed the mic back on its stand before gently guiding you and Piers toward the back of the stage.

Peacekeepers took you from there, offering you a chance to say goodbye to anyone you wished to see one last time. But you had no one, other than Chris and Claire who were coming with you. So, you denied the opportunity, saying you just wanted to go to the train.

Piers took his chance, bidding a sad goodbye to his family. They were proud of him to taking it in such stride, you could see that. And you could also see how they knew that this wasn’t something to be cheering for. These Games were ruthless and they knew that their son would either return a murderer or not return at all.

Peacekeepers guided you and Piers toward the train, standing at the doors as you both walked in one after the other. The train shook as it started up, before lurching forward smoothly. You wandered into one of the cars and took in your surroundings.

Yes, you’d been raised with a certain modem of luxury. But it was District level luxury. This was true richness. Velvet chairs, patterned textured wallpapers, smooth carpet, rich wood furniture. God, it was like they were flaunting it in your face. Which they were.

“Oh my God,” you heard Claire’s voice echo through the train car and before you could even look over your shoulder, she was rushing toward you and enveloping you into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” her voice was muffled by her face pressed into your hair.

“Jesus kid, you got the Redfield bad luck, huh?” Chris grumbled as he walked in, shaking his head.

Piers’ eyes ticked between you and the Redfield sister that held you, and Chris with recognition. It seemed he hadn’t recognized you until just now.

“Chris,” Claire frowned, scolding her brother as she loosened her grip on you to hold you at arms length. Her attention turned back on you, hands smoothing down the fabric of your blouse. “You’ll be fine, we’re going to do our best to prepare you. Both of you.”

“I know you will,” you nodded, offering your best attempt at a smile. Like you even felt like smiling right now. You looked over to Piers. “At least we’ve got the best of the best.”

“Maybe we’ll have an actual chance.” Piers mumbled as Chris walked over to him, clapping the boy on the shoulder roughly.

“We’ll make sure you have a chance. Both of you.” Chris nodded as he crossed his large arms over his chest. He gave an eye roll as a cheery voice was heard distantly from behind one of the close train doors. He let out a grumble. “Brace yourselves, here comes traffic cone.”

“Chris,” Claire scolded as she narrowed her eyes toward her brother. But before he could even think of defending himself, the automatic train door opened and Allium Copperhead skipped into the train car.

“My tributes!” The man cried with a grin, clapping his hands beneath his chin — which you just noticed had a patch of bright orange hair to match the half curtain of hair on his head — and paced over to you and Piers. “I am so proud of you two!”

You wanted to move away, but the man was deceptively quick as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and his other around Piers’ shoulders. He hugged you close, and you could see Piers physically cringe out of the corner of your eye. “I am going to be sure that your time in the Capitol is as enjoyable as it is productive!”

“All right, Allium, they’re overwhelmed right now,” Claire said with a gentle tone that held a bit of authority behind it as she raised her brows.

“Right, right! Of course,” Allium agreed cheerfully as he let go of the both of you. Which lead to you and Piers to let out a simultaneous exhale of relief. You watched the man’s eyes land on a television and he walked towards it. “We should watch the Reaping broadcast! It should be all uploaded by now.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Claire and Chris, silently begging for them to put a stop to it. The last thing you wanted was to watch your own Reaping ceremony. Chris gave an apologetic grimace as Allium flicked on the television with a small remote. It seemed to be preset to the Capitol broadcast channels.

“Come here, come here. Get comfortable. I’ll have some food sent in, you two must be famished.” Allium waved you and Piers over with a cheek splittingly wide grin.

Of course, you much be absolutely famished because you lived in one of the Districts. He had no tactfulness. But with Claire’s nod of approval, you slowly paced over toward the small semi-circle of armchairs and a sofa that proved betrayingly comfortable. You took a seat on the sofa, Piers beside you. And much to your disgust and discomfort, Allium took his seat on your other side.

Chris and Claire sat on the armchairs on either side of the sofa. “I know you don’t really want to watch this, but it’ll be a good way to get an idea of who you’ll be up against in the arena.”

Chris was already in mentor mode. He was leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees as the Capitol anthem played and the Umbrella Corporation logo flashed across the screen. The Reaping ceremony of District One played first, your own Reaping.

God, did you really look like that? Like a deer in headlights on that stage? Piers on the other hand looked great. Strong and intimidating. But you looked weak, like you were about to throw up and pass out. Which you’d almost done both.

As your Reaping came to a close, Allium gave a swift — and what was supposed to be an affectionate — pat on your knee. He grinned at you, nodding as you gave a weary smile back and looked back at the huge television.

District Two’s Reaping played next, a girl with long blonde hair and bangs that covered one eye stood on the stage as she was Reaped — Rachel Foley, that was her name. She was eighteen and had a menacing look on her face. The boy that was called up was Brad Vickers, a nineteen year old with a stocky build who looked a bit too relaxed on the stage.

Chris had previously informed you of the Victor for District Two, Jill Valentine. He had warned you not to underestimate her as most people did. And despite having won her games years ago and fought to prove herself in the Capitol, people believed she was weak for the way she’d won her games. However, with the glimpse you saw of her on the screen during her District’s Reaping, you decided maybe it was best to heed Chris’s warning.

District Three’s Reaping was as equally uneventful as the previous two. Though you suspected the girl tribute — Cindy Lennox — to be an immediate target for violence. She seemed too soft, too sweet to be on that stage. The male Tribute, however, looked up to the task. Steve Burnside was tall and seemed confident enough to be able to get through the arena alive.

Their mentor and Three’s most recent Victor was Ada Wong, someone that you didn’t want to mess with, as Claire warned you. She was ruthless and clever and cutthroat as she was deceiving and alluring. There were rumors around the Capitol she had ways of getting information, secrets. It wasn’t ever clear if those methods were ones of violence or sexual advances. Though no one ever questioned much. She was too beautiful to want to question.

All you could think as you watched the District Four Reaping was how fucking unlucky these Tributes were. Ashely Graham was what was called a ‘sympathy win’ in the Capitol. Meaning someone had the means to send her enough sponsor gifts that she managed to outlive the other Tributes in her games. Though her two — Jessica Sherawat and Kevin Ryman — seemed strong enough to handle themselves, so maybe they had a chance. No matter how small. Because if Chris and Claire taught you one thing, it was never to underestimate anyone.

District Five was where things got a bit dramatic. There was a volunteer for the girl tribute, Caroline Floyd taking the place of a girl who seemed to be blind. Which, in your mind, was a brave and selfless thing to do. Until you remembered there was so such thing as selflessness in the games. Her male counterpart was Billy Coen, whom Claire later told you was suspected to be close to his now mentor, Rebecca Chambers.

District Six was boring, as usual. Tyrell Patrick — a tall man with kind eyes — towered over the female Tribute, Christine Yamata who seemed entirely unemotional. Their Mentor was praised to be somewhat of a genius, despite Chris promising he wasn’t. Carlos Olivera was as cocky and unthinking as the next Yribute who wanted to stay alive.

Things were quiet in Seven, Josh Stone and Sienna Fowler being the Tributes. Chris praised their Mentor though. Sheva Alomar, he said, was trustworthy and dependable. He liked her, you could tell. Other than Jill, she seemed to be the only one he favored.

District Eight produced the Tributes nineteen year old Karen LesProux — who was rumored to have married extremely young at seventeen and then killed her husband after he’d hit one of their children, but those rumors were quickly shut down — and sixteen year old Richard Aiken who looked to be young, but strong enough to hopefully carry his own.

Their Mentors — Sherry Birkin and Jake Muller — were rumored to be cutthroat and did whatever it took to make their Tributes survive. Despite knowing that Claire had an obvious soft spot for Sherry when she’d made a connection with her a few years ago, Chris warned you it was wise not to trust the Tributes from Eight. And something about the way they looked made you believe him.

District Nine’s Reaping was quiet and uneventful as Moira Burton — a fifteen year old girl who was scrawny as she was fearful — and nineteen year old David King — who refused to speak at all — were chosen. Their Mentors, however, were the topic of conversation. Ethan and Mia Winters. Many rumors circulated around the Capitol concerning the now-married couple. Apparently, Ethan Winters had pulled many strings to get Mia — previously Mia Jensen — out of her games alive. Most of the other Mentors had been bitter and they weren’t the most popular amongst the current pool of Victors. Except for Chris, who had a soft spot for the pair.

The Tributes for District Ten were named Bruce McGivern — a charismatic looking seventeen year old boy — and Fong Ling, who looked extremely intimidating for a fifteen year old girl. Their Mentor was somewhat of a flirt around the Capitol, Luis Serra. He was rumored to be similar to Ada Wong in terms of how he survived his life in the spotlight as a Victor. Sexual favors and the payment of secrets. He wasn’t bad to look at, you had to give him that.

The Reaping broadcast was close to an end as District Eleven brought forth an increasingly devastating Tribute. Twelve year old Natalia Korda was picked from the bowl and stood on the stage, trying her hardest not to cry. She seemed to have at least some last sliver of hope though as her male counterpart, Parker Luciani, seemed to want to try and take care of her.

Their Mentors were a mix, that’s for sure. Zoe Baker who seemed determined to get Natalia out alive, and Lucas Baker who was rumored to have lost his mind after his games. Another batch of siblings — God, the Capitol loved that.

Finally — and much to your relief — the District Twelve Reaping began. Chris and Claire had told you before of the Victor for Twelve. Jack Krauser. He was cutthroat and viscous and had a bad run in his games. He’d been chased through the jungle by Mutts, Mutts that no one knew looked like but were rumored to resemble his fellow deceased Tribute. So, ever since then, he’d been hellbent on making live a living hell for all of his Tributes. Somehow a twisted revenge on the Capitol.

His Tributes, however, caught your eye. Helena Harper, seventeen years old and volunteered for her younger sister. Noble, very noble of her. But it wasn’t Helena who caught your interest. Rather, it was the male Tribute.

Leon Kennedy — nineteen years old with golden hair and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. He looked mortified as his name was called, like he was wanted to drop dead then and there. You couldn’t blame him. Twelve had the least advantage. There were only around five Victors to come from Twelve in the history of the Games.

But there was something about him. Some innocent yet driven nature he had that made you lean forward in your seat, eyes glued to the screen. This did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Chris and Claire exchanged a look, Allium thought close to nothing of it. But Piers, he knew what it was. Fascination, the way your eyes widened and your focus never unwavering from the boy your age on the screen. The way he composed himself and took his fate with stride.

Something in you — all the survival instincts that Chris and Claire had put into you — it all vanished. And it was replaced by a lingering sense of fascination for this boy. And the need to make sure he made it out alive.

Even as the screen shut off and Allium mentioned something about having dinner served, you didn’t move. Not as Piers started up a conversation with Chris about what the arena may be this year. Not as Claire decided to come and sit beside you. You knew what was coming.

“What’re you thinking about?” She asked, looking at you as you sat on the sofa, eyes still trained on the blank television screen. She knew full well what you were thinking about. She wasn’t born yesterday. She just needed you to say it.

You sat in silence for a moment, pictures of Leon Kennedy running through your mind. He was from Twelve, you were from One. You weren’t supposed to mix. It was like oil and water. But, something about that boy drew you in. Maybe the kindness in his eyes that made it so obvious he wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe the way he’d quickly recovered and took his Reaping with stride. But no, there was just something about him. He wasn’t supposed to be subjected to this.

With this on your mind, you turned your head, looking at Claire as she awaited your answer. You knew this confession would damn you, you knew it could be the reason you may die in that arena. But consequences be damned. You knew that you had to do it.

“I’m thinking about how I can get that boy out alive.”

How you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸 | daily click!

2023 ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

[glass-staein]

I see two puppies in this photo 🤭

[rookieleonskennedy]

break the bed

fem!readerxre2!leon

tags/warnings: MDNI, nsfw, sub!leon, no use of y/n, mommy kink adjacent?, leon calls reader momma, choking kink, creampie, light bondage

A/N: took a break from my hunterxprey fic to write this bad boy. not too pleased with the last little bit, but i’ll probably go over it and edit it in the next day or so. enjoy!

“C’mon pretty boy, tell me what you want.” 

Your eyes blaze a trail down Leon’s naked form, his toned body supine on the bed before you. His arms stretched above him, his wrists tied to the headboard with pretty pink silk rope. Your fingers dance across his skin, a ballet of sensation that has his muscles tightening with each caress.

You move, circling the bed, continuing your feather-light touches to his body with a sly grin pointed in his direction. Leon trembles upon the white sheets, desperate whimpers spilling from his plush mouth as you taunt him. Stopping at the head of the bed, you stroke his face adoringly. 

“Speak, baby boy. I want to hear you.”

Leon keens, his arm muscles bulging and flexing as they struggle against the restraints. A thin sheen of sweat covers his lean figure, his hardened cock drooling a puddle of precum on his stomach. His back bows in frustration, and he lets out a frustrated whine as he nuzzles his face into your palm. 

“Please momma–want you to t-touch me.”

You would never get over the way Leon’s begging sent a shot of arousal straight to your core. He was always so needy, so pretty. Ocean blue eyes boring into yours, a glimmer of desperation clouding their depths. His lips swollen from the sharp tug of his own teeth, and the bottom one quivers slightly as he pushes it out in a pout.

You hum in response to his request, your thumb trailing gently across the sharp jut of his cheekbone. With a delicate tap to the side of his face, you remove your hand and sit yourself next to him on the bed.

“Good boy,” You purr, smiling down at him knowingly.

A high-pitched moan bursts from Leon’s mouth, your praise sending a shockwave of arousal straight to his cock. His cheeks are a ruddy shade of red, and his breathing is rapid and shallow. His eyelids drooped slightly, his iris heady with his lust for you. His gaze, however cloudy, is still intense as it follows the motion of your hand down toward where he wants you the most.

You lower it down, gently wrapping your delicate fingers around his scorching-hot flesh, causing his hips to rise off the bed, the headboard groaning beneath the strength of his arms as they pull against the rope once more. You chuckle down at him softly, pumping your hand up and down his shaft ever-so-slowly, your thumb purposefully pressing into his frenulum on each upward stroke.

You know what makes Leon tick, what spots to press and tease to make him mindless–drunk with pleasure. With the skillful and practiced ministrations of your hand, it doesn’t take long for you to have him turned into a begging, whining, mess of a man beneath you.

“M-momma, needa–fuck–need t’cum–feels so fucking good–love it when you touch me momma–your hand is so soft–shit–right th-there–hand feels so good on my cock–squeezing me jus’ right–such a perfect momma f’me–oh god–gon’ come–m’gonna come momma–ah!”

You remove your hand suddenly, denying Leon the release for which he was on the precipice for the umpteenth time that night. A sob escapes him, his body thrashing petulantly on the bed. You had teased him within an inch of his life, edging him over and over. He was absolutely dumb with want for you. The sight of his exasperation almost makes you feel remorseful.

“Shh,” you coo at him soothingly. “Don’t you wanna cum in your momma’s pussy, pretty boy?”

Leon sobs again, hot tears now spilling from his cerulean eyes and running in rivulets down his blushing cheeks. He nods his head vigorously, still writhing against his restraints. 

“Yes momma, wan’ it. Want it so bad.”

Pleased at the state of mindlessness, you move to straddle his waist, your bare body hovering mere inches above his. His hips buck, his thick cock fighting to meet the warm, wet, and plush mound of your pussy. You pull your hips away from him in a silent warning, giving him a stern look.

“I need you to be a good boy for me Lee, and stay still while I ride you, you got it?”

He bites his lip at your words, his eyelids fluttering with anticipation. He pushes his hips back down onto the bed at your command, and he moans loudly when you press the wet folds of your cunt against the side of his twitching cock.

You can feel the amount of effort that he’s putting into holding himself still for you, his desire to please you, his desire to be a good boy for you overriding his need to thrust up against you. 

You place your hands across the expanse of his chest, your nails slightly digging into his soft skin as you begin to rut against him. His breathing stutters beneath your fingertips, and his eyes roll back into his head as he whimpers.

“Please momma–please put my cock inside you–w-wanna cum in you–fuck–wan’ you to bounce on me–want you to cum on my cock–oh shit–wanna be a good boy f’you–wanna fill my momma full of my cum.”

You keen at Leon’s filthy words, throwing your head back in bliss as you continue rubbing your pussy against Leon’s dick.

“Yeah, Lee? You wanna stretch out my pussy with your fat cock–fill me up with your hot cum?”

“Yes, please momma!  I’ll make you feel so good–fill you up–make you cum f’me–be your good boy.”

You reached down to grab Leon’s shaft as he spoke, lining his tip up with your entrance. Your eyes connected with his as you began to slide your eager cunt down his length, both of your mouths dropping open in ecstasy.

 The bed frame creaks loudly, and your eyes snap up to watch as Leon’s arms pull relentlessly against the ropes. He seems to be putting all his energy into his arms rather than his hips, an effort to remain a still, good boy for you. When you’ve fully sheathed him inside your walls, you let out a shaky breath. 

Leon’s dick was big. Not too big, but big enough that you always had to take a moment and allow yourself to accommodate to the stretch of it. Once you had, you began to bounce. Attempting to find a rhythm that hits your sweet spot on every drop down. One of your hands moved to rest on Leon’s chest, while the other wrapped tenderly around his throat.

“You feel so good inside me, pretty boy. I can’t wait to cum around you.”

Leon’s whimpers and whines grew impossibly louder at your words, his desperation to finish inside you reaching its peak. With a strangled sob, he begins to plead with you.

“Momma! Please let me move–I’ll be such a good boy for you–wanna move–wanna fuck you momma–please just let me–please–fuck–I’ll do anything f’you–just lemme move.”

You giggle down at him, your hand tightening around his neck briefly. 

“Okay, baby boy. You can move.”

Leon wastes no time in beginning to move his hips once you have given him the all-clear, and he begins to thrust up into your pussy with reckless abandon. The suddenness of the motion causes you to have to use the hand you have on his throat for balance, squeezing his airway off even more. 

This only spurs Leon on, a garbled groan leaving him as he pistons his hips into you harder and faster. A strangled gasp leaves you as a resounding crack echoes throughout the room. The world tilts, and suddenly you are on your back, Leon’s still tied hands resting on your chest as he continues fucking into your squelching pussy. 

“Fuck momma–gonna fuck you so deep–bury my cock in you–such a pretty momma–pussy’s gripping my cock like a vice–gonna make you cum–shit–gonna make you scream f’me momma–just wait.”

Leon had broken the headboard from all his tugging and thrashing, leaving his hands tied but allowing him to flip you over and take control of the situation. Your pussy throbbed at this, the sheer strength of the man above you hurtling you towards your orgasm. 

With a loud yelp of his name, you spasm around Leon’s cock, your orgasm hitting you in full-force. Leon continues thrusting into you, muttering dirty words of praise in your ear as he chases his own high. His thrusts begin to get sloppy and erratic, and with a final push deep into you, he comes with a cry.

Leon collapses on top of you for a moment before rolling off and laughing.

“Guess I gotta buy us a new headboard, huh?”

You roll over on your side to meet his eyes with a smile, your hands moving to untie his bound wrists.

“Yeah. You do.”

[chubbunnyy]

Leons chubby girl sexual awakening, I headcannon he never gave that much thought to what his type is since he was too focused on the academy and what not but when he sees chubby Y/N he just goes absolutely feral

oh yes yes yes leon in general would love fat girls but ROOKIE LEON?!?!?! THAT MAN WOULD NOT GET ENOUGH.

he’d stare so often just watching her do things. genuinely just super mundane things but he’s entranced

don’t even get me started when he catches her doing her makeup or when she chews on her pen. that man is hard. it doesn’t take much for him