localkiss

[localkiss]

OH MY GOD EM!! this was actually too good. like i genuinely am smiling rn. He deserves ittt 😫!! And more ofc, ofc.

I enjoyed the lil peek into the past and how Leon actually like found the readers mom! The whole like um you are what you eat kinda thing ?? Or maybe like you are who you surround yourself with kinda thingy? That made me go 😧😧!! Damn. It was so good, I was biting my knuckle 😭. He's so gross and like ugh. It's too good.

also kinda felt bad for him (he deserves to feel guilty 2) when he got it back and more. like dude omfg wish she would've actually pulled the trigger but then... no ! 😔

And it's sooo real when it comes to being a victim and then being grossed out by SA but then also kinda getting off to it? I wish I could be "normal" and not be sort of bleh w/ sex !!

SHOULD’VE BEEN A SON, finale!

MDNI, corrupt cop/dad!leon kennedy x fem! reader

word count. 6.5k

cws. daddy-daughter incest, noncon (m receiving), discussions of past noncon, p in v, unprotected, gunplay, death threats, coercion, slapping/hitting, degradation, allusions to death, intoxication, references to suicide

note. happy sbas sunday!! i did not mean to make this so long, honestly — illness kicked my ass for a second but we’re back!! a million thank-yous to all of my readers — your input and attention means more than i can express. love y’all!!

tags. @bunnyclaire , @leonseyeliner , @sqiim , @xoxostarlet , @d10nyx , @ressespearlz , @shiawaseorii , @wherenymphsroam , @arminsbf , @localkiss , @admirxation , @bonnibuckets , @lilyberrythoughtss , @boredmantaray , @argreion , @mrswint3rs , @fairry1 , @valslullaby

index. [pt. 1] [pt. 2] [pt. 3] [pt. 4] [pt. 5] [Bonus.]

Chatter rang strong from the RPD’s West Office. Hums of the upcoming day off. There’d been an influx of rookies, some strange rekindling of justice’s allure. Leon paid it little mind. Rookies were rightfully understood as wet behind the ears. Gifted with the sort of optimism you couldn’t put a tax on. If anything, he was thankful to be rid of the label. Didn’t suit him well since he’d drawn Irons’s attention.

Amongst the buzz, Leon slipped into the hall overlooking the dark room — nodding to his superior as he approached.

“Lieutenant Branagh? You wanted to see me?”

Marvin looked up, gaze stern. Brow furrowed in a sort of exasperated disappointment. “Yeah, I did,” he sighed, unsure how to begin. He cleared his throat, gaze slowly trailing to Leon’s. “I’m leaving the RPD. Just cleaned out my desk.”

Leon shifted his weight to the heel, lips parting in bewilderment. “Lieutenant, you…” he started, unsure where to continue. He gave up rather quickly, shaking his head in disbelief as he spoke again: “Why?”

He sighed, letting the motion muffle itself behind closed lips. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” he asked, nodding briefly to the chief’s quarters. Leon noticed him keeping the motion subtle — not that he didn’t understand. Irons prompted a sense of unease within just about anyone with an amygdala, and the RPD seemed to relearn it daily. “Bastard’s got this place in a chokehold. He’s getting older every day, y’know?”

Leon chewed on his bottom lip. Had he been spending too much time with Irons as of late? Being old wasn’t much of a crime. It should be, he’d declared to friends over gas station beer. They’d dreamt of champagne, but come Leon’s first day, they’d not saved enough for it — even in a celebratory context. Long was his second day’s hangover, but before then, he’d decided that the geriatric fools handling the finances of higher education ought to be stopped. Escorted back to their nursing homes. Wasn’t fair for him to bear the fruits of incompetence — until the tree itself was displaced. Rather, until he was displaced. The rookies fell beneath Irons, now — he got to reap what bubbled at the top.

Marvin gave him a minute to respond, but he didn’t. He didn’t know quite what to say. A year ago, he would’ve agreed — but that was before he garnered favoritism from the geriatric fools. Now, he profited from the system. Wasn’t worth criticizing anymore. Marvin only seemed to get it when Leon averted his gaze.

“I’m saying this is wrong, Kennedy,” he said, slowing the sentence. “I’m saying that Irons isn’t retiring. You know what that means? I’ll be covering up patchwork taxidermy till I retire if I stay here.”

“It’s a hobby,” Leon defended — the sentence coming out a little harsher than he’d aimed for. Nothing Marvin hadn’t already suspected. “Keeps his mind sharp.”

“Verbatim,” Marvin chuckled, low and humorless in his chest. “Christ, son… you’ve gotta get away from that man.”

“He’s not hurting anyone,” Leon argued, glancing down at his badge like it was going to defend him. “I don’t see why this matters, Lieutenant. The station’s fine, the city’s fine, we’re fine. A stuffed tiger’s not gonna take your job.”

“You know it’s more than that,” Marvin said, voice intensifying with his gaze. “You were in the office when she came in to file.”

Leon’s eyes darted instinctively to the woman in question — a rookie behind the glass that Irons had taken abrupt interest in. Not the sort he took in Leon after noticing that he was a strong boy who knew when to keep quiet. She’d garnered the immediate sort. The sort Leon’s mother had discouraged exhibiting before her demise.

And, shit, Marvin made sense for a moment. She’d looked scared that day — Leon hadn’t gotten the report directly, but he’d heard the way her voice ebbed and rasped. He’d seen the way the whites of her eyes made themselves more prominent than her pupils. Her hands trembled a little when they had something to hold onto. They trembled a lot when she couldn’t even grasp her own. And he’d known what happened, in time — managed to catch ‘Irons’ from behind the door. They spoke quietly; the word was just repeated often.

“What did you tell her?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly. Marvin glanced at the girl, avoiding eye contact for a moment as he cleared his throat.

“I told her to get the hell away from here,” he admitted, shaking his head. “In any other instance, I could’ve arrested the bastard. Made sure he didn’t get the chance to make good on those threats. But I knew I wasn’t gonna have any power here…” he sighed, eyes suddenly downcast. “Only way I’ll get the power needed for this job is to defend him. That’s why I’ve decided to leave.”

Leon clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, unsure what to say. Marvin was right. That girl wasn’t safe. It’d be better if she sought alternative employment. He’d never have to see that report — he could go back to sifting through the cases of sexual assault that he’d managed to detach himself from.

But he didn’t want to lose Lieutenant Branagh. When Irons ran him dry during that first week, Marvin took over the patrols he personally deemed excessive. Coached him when he froze. His friendship with Irons, while it was good to feel important, was political.

Marvin sighed again, seeming to recognize that Leon had drifted a little too deep into the role. “You’re not a bad man, Kennedy. You just can’t expect it to stay that way if you keep eating straight from his hand.”

That was the last time the two spoke, but in Leon’s mind, the conversation looped. Leon found himself muttering the first sentence under his breath often. The one he wanted to remember. The one he still wanted to be true.

“You’re not a bad man, Kennedy,” rang through his head as he helped Irons forge the third incident report of the week as faulty. He’d gotten a little better at it — Irons was going senile, surely. You couldn’t go overboard when trying to make a victim seem malicious or insane. A little did it when you worked at the RPD.

“You’re not a bad man, Kennedy,” hummed with the cars as he decided which of Irons’s enemies to fine excessively for fictional speeding. It felt stupid, carrying around that notepad, but at least it helped him keep his false charges straight.

“You’re not a bad man, Kennedy,” carried itself with the wind as he stumbled across the same girl that had fled with Marvin one night. Speeding down a backroad after a particularly bad shift. Leon had been having a rough week — hell, a rough month. Being Irons’s lapdog was increasingly developing into a burden, rather than a privilege. Still, her features softened in relief when the shadows cast away from his face. Unaware that Irons had instilled a little bit of himself in Leon’s brain. A parasite, slowly eating away at his frontal lobe. Leaving bits of his brain in shambles. The bits one would need most to be a good cop.

Leon had liked Psychology enough in school. The Academy had required its students to be well-versed in the brain’s mechanisms — after all, how was one supposed to police what they couldn’t understand? Not that Leon understood well enough to avoid a criminal’s psyche. As much as he’d generally forgotten, one lesson still stuck out to him, perhaps at random — the phenomenon of cognitive dissonance. The lecture that rang through his ears as he stared into the former rookie’s eyes.

On one hand, he knew his strength. He knew that this woman, albeit strong in her own right, had the sort of frame he could splay across the hood of a car. Or a tree. Or the asphalt. He knew that he was pent. The still-hard-post-masturbation sort of pent. And he knew that the woman before him was pretty enough to get the job done.

But on the other hand, wasn’t he supposed to be a cop? Wasn’t he supposed to cuff the men with these sorts of thoughts and interrogate them till they cried? Leon wasn’t supposed to be a rapist — he was supposed to be some sort of savior. But he’d failed to be one in the face of the police chief’s harassment, and now, he had to decide if he wanted to fail this woman again.

The thing about cognitive dissonance is, he realized, that it’s impossible for it to last long. Sometimes it’s a gradual process — sometimes it’s an instantaneous switch. Either way, the contradiction demanded to be eased. He either apologized to that woman and kept his dick far away from where it wasn’t wanted, or somehow justified it to himself. Turn rape into a mistake, rather than a felony. Hardly anyone wants to be a bad person, him included.

“You’re not a bad man, Kennedy,” buzzed with the hospital’s ventilation as he looked newborn you in the eyes for the first time — seeing enough of your mother in them to make him sick. He hardly had an excuse for that. Hell, she had all the reason in the world to shove you off into his arms and

It should’ve stopped with that gathering at the RPD, but it didn’t. He’d seen her again on the side of the road. And again at his front door. And again at the hospital, you in tow. And again in his bed. And again, and again, and again. He let her haunt him for awhile. It was the least he could do. Regurgitating the same quote wasn’t enough, sometimes, so he kept a log of his charity — until guilt became an afterthought.

It didn’t feel like anything, you realized abruptly. Having sex didn’t feel like anything.

Your friends had conveniently remembered you tonight. The bar they often occupied had a deal each Saturday — the Night Out special. If you came with a group of five or more, you’d get one round of free drinks per person. Their fifth had gotten into a particularly nasty fight recently — and while you’d typically argue that alcohol could numb the ache, you weren’t one to deny long-forsaken socialization. So you tugged on a coat, shook the dust off of your car keys, and drove out to meet them — fully prepared to be cast as their designated driver.

You didn’t care for this bar much. They liked it because the staff were relaxed to a nearly absurd degree — hell, you’d never even caught sight of an ID being retrieved here. But the music was shitty and the social scene was shittier. The room reeked of alcohol poisoning and sexual desperation. Your friends, as expected, largely cast you aside in favor of discussing their own affairs, leaving you to soak up the atmosphere. And soak it up you did. Every last drop of shoddy service and grime.

“Whatcha drinking?” a deep voice resonated behind you — suddenly enough to make you flinch. Everything seemed to make you flinch nowadays, sure, but this was a little more justified. You put a hand over your heart to steady it. He laughed. You found yourself laughing with him.

“Uh… Coke,” you’d said when the breathiness subsided. Took a second for you to remember — you’d hardly consumed any of it. He glanced over to your friends, seeming to connect the dots.

“Mmh. You’re designated driver. Mind if I have a seat?”

You shook your head, gesturing that the stool to your left was open. Truthfully, the one to your right was, too, but you hoped one of your friends would move back into it. Disclusion could be a memory, if they let it die, but they seemed to shift one space away from you anytime you inclined yourself toward them.

He inhaled, taking a long drink from his glass. You hadn’t encountered polite attention from men in a long time, now. You hadn’t met a man who looked at you like you meant something in months. And hell, if he was buttering you up by coaxing you into talking about the hobbies you used to enjoy, you accepted it, because that felt like normalcy — and lord knows you needed more of that as of late.

So when he asked to fuck you, you said yes.

He was conventionally attractive. Roughly your age — perhaps a couple years your senior. Let you work out a little arrangement to fuck, drive your wasted friends home, come back to his apartment, and fuck again. Held the door open for you on the way out of the bar. Laughed at your jokes about your friends ditching you. Bare minimum shit. But ‘bare minimum’ seldom described men today, you’d come to find. Courtesy had shriveled, paused to dig its own grave, climbed in, and silently died before the body could be found. Thank God, you thought, legs crossed in the passenger side of his car.

Problem was, you’d never really had consensual sex. That occurred to you as you shifted on the mattress beneath him, watching his brows furrow as he spoke: “Are you comfortable?” And you were. For once in your goddamn life, you were. His body felt big in the way a weighted stuffed animal did, not a hydraulic press.

And you liked kissing him. Aesthetically, anyway. You liked the way his stubble grazed your cheek and the his tongue slowly integrated itself instead of forcing itself down your throat. You liked the way his finger dipped beneath the elastic of your panties tentatively, the way he locked eyes with you to make sure nothing he did was too fast or too harsh.

But you didn’t want this.

Not in the sense that you were being taken by force. No, that probably would’ve gotten you wet, you realized. When he paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate why you weren’t, you lied and said that you were on antidepressants. Antidepressants would probably do you good, even if they didn’t reverse this. The disconnect. You wanted to revel in the fact that his cock was big and his hands were strong, but unless one of those hands wrapped itself around your throat, you couldn’t. Your father was a sick bastard who’d had the audacity to pass on the sickness.

And you knew that was it. Sex and your father had become entwined in your brain, and by further association, rape had wrapped itself in the guise of pleasure. You didn’t know if it was a coping mechanism or a disorder. A mix of both, probably. But rape was inherently greedy. For now, it wasn’t a matter of having a kink. It wasn’t a porn category you’d pray the network didn’t pick up on. To your mind, rape was sex, and consent wasn’t anything meaningful. Consent wasn’t what was supposed to get you off, anymore. Consent made you zone out, somehow, and when you came to, a man other than your father was pulling out of you.

So, of course you didn’t cum.

“You’re satisfied?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion as you fixed yourself up in the bathroom. Clean, you noted, hurrying to clip your bra and ensure the neckline of your dress was even. It felt wrong, lying to such a gentleman, but you’d been coerced into burying the truth next to the grave you were digging for yourself. It’s not like you could tell him what really got you off, so you settled for a ‘mhm!’

He gave you a look. Like he didn’t really believe you. Probably thought you were following customs you’d inherited from some patriarchal nightmare. “The female orgasm is a myth” sort of bullshit. You offered him another smile, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you, I had a nice time…” you said quietly. You meant it, for once. He seemed to believe that much.

“Yeah, uh… of course. You leaving?” he asked, nodded briefly to the hand you’d sneaked to his doorknob. You bit your lip, shifting your weight awkwardly between each foot. Exposed in half a second.

“Yeah…” you chuckled, unable to convert the awkwardness into anything more palatable — leaving it to uncomfortably marinate in the air. “I don’t want my friends to try and go home without me. They’re probably already pissed.” (That wasn’t a lie. They were probably pissed.)

He didn’t ask if you planned to come back after — the door didn’t lock behind you as you closed it. It was open, should you choose to come back and rejoin him, but there was a mutual understanding that you wouldn’t. That this sort of connection wasn’t for you, as much as it could’ve been.

As you drove back, drunken friend group crammed into the backseat, you thought of him and the way he seemed to regard you. Sheer guilt concealed his name, but he was warmer than you remembered men could be. The kind of man that Mama would probably want you to marry, if she was still around. And you could hear him, too, laughing over the table that had only seemed to get colder with every year that she was gone.

You could’ve married that man, maybe. If not him, someone like him. If your father hadn’t done something unforgivable to you, that would’ve been your first time. It could’ve been soft and slow. Could’ve been something beautiful. You’d understand why they called it ‘making love’ instead of failing to understand why your father would rip your body to shreds. If your father hadn’t ruined your perception of intimacy, you could still be capable of it.

You clenched the wheel, anger bubbling up in the way your pillow usually stifled. You weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself. Maybe you should’ve been getting out more. Tried to find new ways to diffuse your anger before it pooled like this.

You ended up slamming the car door a little too hard once you pulled in, disappointed that you’d forced yourself to go home. Disappointed that you’d forced yourself to be realistic, after all — even when reality incessantly oscillated between drab and horrific.

You waved to your dad out of courtesy as you stepped in, somewhat disturbed by his presence — he wasn’t one to sit up and wait for you. Although, you weren’t exactly one to go out much anymore.

“Where the hell were you?” he slurred, trying to lift his chin enough to get a good look at you. Didn’t work — the muscles in his neck refused to stiffen accordingly, slumping him back over. Heavy lids drooped over his blue eyes — you couldn’t tell if his gaze was meant to convey lust or sluggishness. The latter, you rationalized, even as your gut pleaded you to reconsider.

“I was out with friends,” you muttered, tossing your bag onto the table. He winced in the dark as your keys came into contact with the wood, shoulders flitting upward — as if that would do anything to block the sound. Thankfully, he’d rendered himself pathetic while you were gone.

He thought on it for a moment, taking longer than he usually did to produce a sentence. Hopefully, you thought, his mind was starting to go, just like that police chief’s had when you were young. Unfortunately, you found the true culprit of his mugginess before the fantasy could blossom to fruition — a half-downed bottle of vodka. You’d been wondering when he was gonna drink that. Pondered drinking it yourself more than you’d like to admit, but your father wasn’t the sort to show you kindness.

“You’ve got friends?” he chuckled, the sound rasping a bit in his throat. “Figured you would’ve gone off with one of ‘em when things got bad around here.”

“I tried,” you narrowed your eyes in the dark, unsure why you were mentioning this in the first place. “I reached out. Then you decided to record yourself fucking me in my sleep.”

His face seemed to still in shock for a moment, like he’d genuinely forgotten — before his expression relaxed again. “Mhm…” he mumbled, the corners of his mouth upturning slightly. “You still keep that Polaroid?”

“I don’t want you to disperse it while I’m gone,” you admitted, suddenly very aware of the photo’s presence in your wallet. Your eyes darted to it on the table, and he laughed — mental acuity suddenly regained, in part.

“You keep it in there,” he realized, glancing from your own wallet to his on the coffee table. “I’ve got one of my own. If I wanted to show your tits off to my friends, I would’ve done it already.”

Something about that made your blood boil. Scalded your veins a bit too much to feign indifference. You’d almost gotten used to the way he talked down to you while raping you — but for him to brush off the event with such casualty outside of it had always chipped at your patience. You couldn’t respond to him, mouth suddenly dryer than it’d been in a few days.

“Were you looking to get hammered?” he asked, seemingly unable to compute that his daughter had a life (ish) and friends (ish) outside of him. “You look fine. Saw your car pull in straight.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you spat back, starting toward your room — too infuriated to be around him at all. He straightened a little, registering that you were leaving.

“Hey, no, not done talkin’ to you…” he slurred, as if you two were somehow acquaintances. Drinking buddies, if he still thought you’d had anything to drink. You turned around with a scoff, eyes catching his hastily-discarded equipment in the corner. Bastard probably planned to get shitfaced the moment he changed. The moment his pistol was reasonably far from him. You wished, for the split second before you snapped, that you hadn’t caught sight of the grip — that the gun had remained forever obscured from your thoughts. But it didn’t. Before you could stifle your anger, the same way you’d done a thousand times before, the gun was in your hand.

“Don’t move,” you spat, voice shaky as you stalked toward him. And he stopped when you asked, for once — watching your every move with wide eyes. Only thing he’d dared to do was flinch. You wouldn’t have pulled the trigger over a flinch — surely. That narrative was more comforting than the reverse. And you needed comfort. For his sake, too, you needed to breathe. In half a second, you’d crossed the living room’s rug, pressing the gun flush to his adam’s apple for support as you straddled him. He wheezed, airflow restricted for a moment, stilling once more when your thighs settled themselves over his hips.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill you,” you muttered, pressing the service pistol to his temple and tapping a manicured nail to the trigger. He flinched, ever-so-slightly, each time the tip of your index made contact with the safety — as much as he willed himself to stop. Like a button wired straight to his nervous system. You found it amusing, briefly — but not in the way that could satiate you. Your head was racing too fast for real thoughts to complete themselves, but you’d let one concept cloud your brain — an eye for an eye.

As many times as you’d been raped by this man, you hadn’t quite made a guide on how to rape him back. Consciously. Whatever devil in the opposite hemisphere of your brain was doing just fine while you went on autopilot. Semi-autopilot. You trailed the gun from his temple to the hard line of his mouth, tapping the muzzle between his lips. “Open,” you hummed, letting your hand trail to the button of his jeans. “Nice and easy.”

He parted his lips, letting the barrel slide flat along his tongue — lowering his jaw with a grunt to accommodate the weapon. Seemed like it would taste bitter. Perfect. You silently thanked your friends for getting too drunk to stay out longer — otherwise, you’d have to deal with one of the insufferable belts he’d pair with his uniform, rather than a pair of jeans. Those belts provided a rape alibi by themselves — they were nigh impossible to remove in an efficient manner. Horrid. It disturbed you, for a minute, how easy it was to think of belts while prying your father’s cock from his boxers, wetting your fingers with your own saliva — but only for a moment. You were past rationality. Past being kind to the man who had ruined you.

He grimaced as you forced the gun back further, prompting another wheeze. You held his cock to your palm for a moment, briefly smiling to yourself — sick bastard was getting hard to you doing this. You abruptly shoved the gun back again, feeling him twitch in your hand, precum uselessly drooling against your wrist. At least he knew how to make this easy.

“You’re getting off to this?” you laughed — but you paused for a moment. The voice didn’t quite sound like you. You kept speaking, trying to shove away the dissonance. “You’re getting off to getting raped?”

“No,” he gasped out as you withdrew the gun, airflow suddenly restored. A string of saliva snapped from his tongue to the muzzle. “No, fuck—“

The way he looked at you — all pale and wide-eyed — made you feel sick. Guilt, probably. Satisfaction was a greedy emotion, though, so rather than stopping, you backhanded him as hard as you could muster — pumping his cock as his hips involuntarily bucked into it. Fucker was just like you, at the end of the day. Getting raped got him hard enough to fuck your fist like a fleshlight. Getting hit made precum drip down to the base, as hurt as he looked by it. Maybe it was shame. He was long overdue to feel shame, somehow.

“You’re pathetic,” you hissed, striking him again as you adjusted your panties to the side — tugging them by the gusset. “Real fuckin’ pathetic, asking me to stop—“ you gripped his cock a little harder than necessary, sandwiching the tip between your folds. Shit almost made your legs shake — forcing your father like this to begin with had gotten you wet enough to make your head fuzzy.

“Baby… baby, you don’t have to do this…” he groaned, words slurred a little more heavily than you remembered. You rocked your hips gently, grazing the tip inside for less than a second. His eyelids fluttered, another grunt rising from his throat.

“Your cock doesn’t want me to stop,” you retaliated, dragging the tip up to your throbbing clit — thighs trembling slightly at the tentative nudge. You found yourself tempted, for a moment, to get yourself off with that — but you felt that would spare him a fraction of his dignity. That would defeat the purpose. You wanted him, for once in his fucking life, to crumble as low as you had.

You straightened yourself, sliding yourself down onto his dick — letting him bottom out faster than his mind could take. You were fine, for once. You’d gotten fucked earlier. You could take it. All that mattered was that he couldn’t. His breath staggered, eyes wide as his head fell back — chest rising and falling in a sort of hushed panic. Oddly reminiscent of the way animals go still when they’re scared and hopeless. That didn’t phase you as you slid your hips up to the tip, letting your cunt clench around every overstimulated part of him.

“You happy?” you taunted, breath going a little ragged as you fucked him into the couch. Slick had started to make the motion audible — you’d be embarrassed if you were the victim. “What’s wrong, dad? Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He opened his mouth, closing it when the pistol was guided back to his temple. As if he would’ve been able to coherently respond to begin with. Tears beaded across his waterline — but you weren’t sure if they were reflexive or emotional. You’d never seen dad cry. Not at mama’s missing reports, not when you moved out, never. Crying solely because he was forced to take what he inflicted was enough to piss you off further, somehow — pussy spasming at the mere sight of humbling him. Your free hand found its way to his throat, gripping around it as you felt yourself throb around him.

That’s all it took for you to cum, ultimately — the sight of his face, somehow more broken than you could’ve fantasized of. You dug your fingernails into his throat, gasping out as your thighs trembled, riding him till your cunt twitched and sex started to hurt. That was your cue. This was for you, not him. If he wanted to jerk off and cry to the bruises you’d left, good on him — that wasn’t why you’d raped him. You eased yourself off of him, dressing yourself before you had to look him in the eye. The orgasm high took most of the anger with it as it faded.

You curled up in bed that night, thoroughly exhausted, leaving him to rot in the living room. Metaphorically, for now.

That sort of post-rape uncleanliness you’d grown so accustomed to typically hit in the mornings — and this case was no exception.

You took the same scalding shower. Scrubbed the same skin raw. Unfortunately, most of the distress came from sheer confusion. You’d been the perpetrator, for once — why were you disgusted with yourself? Didn’t he deserve it?

Confusion gave way to guilt. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process how you’d live for a moment — realizing what you’d done to your father. Wouldn’t this make you two even? Couldn’t you go, finally? Couldn’t you find a therapist in the outskirts of Raccoon and grant shelter to a couple cats?

In the early hours of the morning, that seemed like a wonderful plan. Getting away in general, anyway. You didn’t know if you could bear to face him as you stepped back into the living room to retrieve your bag, heart lurching at the sight of him still there. You capitalized on the prospect of him being out cold for your plan — though, predictably, it was rather short-lived.

You crept by, breath hitching with his as he woke up — chest releasing with his as he cracked his neck. You reached for your bag, dragging it halfway across the table when he finally spoke up.

“Thought you’d be more eager to stay,” he slurred, groaning as he rubbed his temples. “Seemed like you wanted to rub it in my face a little.”

You bit your bottom lip, not anticipating how blunt he’d be about it — regret flaring up in your chest when you noticed the dark bruises strewn across his skin. Like you’d left a bit of yourself into his face when you hit him. Deserved, you reminded yourself, and you knew that you were right, but it didn’t sit well that you’d fallen into this. That you’d resorted to this sort of thoughtless brutality, like he had. You weren’t supposed to be capable of what he was.

It became apparent that you weren’t going to respond, so he made do — he filled in the gaps where conversation should’ve gone by himself. “I realized something, last night…” he mused, looking up at the TV. It’d stayed off for longer than you could remember; the remote’s absence had rendered it more useful as a mirror. He squinted as he spoke, peering into it more deeply. “I look old.”

Your face remained stoic — but you permitted the slightest bit of confusion to downturn your expression. Stepping forward, part of you couldn’t help but agree — between the white hairs sprouting across his scalp and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, he looked older than your mind’s eye had conjured up. Wasn’t anything you’d take much note of, personally — but he seemed nothing short of bewildered.

“I mean, you look… forty-whatever,” you shrugged it off — as if you didn’t remember exactly how old your father was. Of course you did. You hand-made cards for him for every birthday he had, till you turned fifteen and realized it wasn’t reciprocated. You wondered where those cards had found themselves, nowadays — perhaps there was a second box of Playboys you hadn’t encountered. As if you’d go hunting after the first.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, expression tensing in irritation. “I’m saying that I didn’t get it till last night. Knew I was getting older, didn’t know I was looking the part.”

You pursed your lips, unsure if false sympathy would be an adequate apology for sexual assault. He seemed to imply that — but you didn’t particularly want to make amends with your father. You’d been raped more times awake than you could recall off the top of your head, and more times asleep than you could begin to process. So, you settled on: “Oh.”

“Time stopped after I joined the RPD,” he said, glancing back at the uniform, still draped over one of the kitchen chairs. “After about a year in, or so. Maybe two. Around the time I met your mother.”

You paused, suddenly intrigued — sure, it’d been easy to guess what had happened between your parents, but he’d never outright said it. Didn’t mention your mom unless it was to compare you to her. You straightened up a little, arms folding as you implored him to continue. He looked at you for a long moment and sighed, realizing you expected for him to elaborate.

“She was, uh… the first girl I… y’know,” he said, shifting his gaze in discomfort. Only drew discontent from you.

“Raped?” you said, words laced with a bit more venom than anticipated. Not that it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve assaulted your own daughter more times than you can count, but you’re scared of the word rape?”

“No,” he scoffed back. “No, I can say it. I’d rather not, now. Doesn’t feel good to recall.”

You wanted to scream back something at him — about how he was sick, how he was the worst hypocrite you’d had the displeasure of knowing. But the words lodged themselves in your throat. You knew he didn’t deserve your sympathy, but something within you still saw dad in that man. The stupidest fucking part of you, sure — the part that you wanted to cut off and roast over a spit, absolutely, but nonetheless, a part of you. Fuck, you’d hurt dad — you’d done something unforgivable to dad. It wasn’t enough to prompt an apology, but it was enough to cease the will to scream.

“Of course it doesn’t,” you settled on, rationalizing the response. “You don’t think mama felt the same way? You don’t think I feel the same way?”

“I didn’t think at all,” he chuckled. Sounded hollow. “You can’t think after you’ve done that to someone. I wasn’t thinking much at all when I met your mother — just thought about how I could still consider myself a good man after that.”

“First step’s probably not raping another girl,” you muttered, voice bitter as you heard out his attempts to save face. If that’s what this was. Didn’t seem organized enough to have much of an intent at all, once you thought about it.

“You can’t stop,” he responded. “Stopping means thinking about all of the shit you’ve done, instead of the ways you’ll get away with it. Thinking about all of the people you’ve hurt. I can’t do that, sweetheart — the guilt… it’s gonna kill me.”

“So die,” you said flatly. To your benefit, nothing much at all seemed to shock him anymore. He laughed off the remark, gesturing to the service pistol you’d discarded last night.

“Do the honors.”

Your mouth curled into a frown. Admittedly, you considered it. Really considered it. But you were far from dumb. “The RPD practically worships the ground you walk on,” you sighed in disinterest. “I’d rather not get convicted of your murder.”

“Well,” he sat up, groaning as he re-positioned his head. “You’re not leaving ‘cause I’ve still got that video, and I’m not leaving ‘cause you’d go straight to the station,” he shrugged. “What do you propose we do from here?”

You didn’t bother to think on it. “I’m gonna kill you someday,” you said, “You ruined me like you let the force ruin you, and I’m gonna kill you for it.”

He chuckled, amused by the threat. “I’ll be looking forward to it. Shame nobody’ll be there to pull the trigger when you can’t forget that you’re a rapist.”

The retaliation didn’t hit correctly. You stood there, lips still pursed, acting as if you felt neutral to the fact that you’d raped your father in an act of revenge. Logically, you knew — blaming yourself for the act was futile. When you trap an animal, it bites. Living within one’s childhood home in the context of captivity was enough to make anyone go stir-crazy. What you did was a natural response. What you did was realistic. You’re not a bad person — you knew it.

The opening of a cardboard case stirred you from your thoughts. Your father extended a cigarette to you, eyes still a little dull from the previous night’s intoxication. That didn’t do his presentation any favors.

“No, thanks. I’m saving my lungs,” you said, wrinkling your nose in exaggerated disgust.

“Smoke half of one, then. You’re gonna need it,” he insisted, pressing the cigarette to your palm before you could object and nodding to the lighter on the coffee table. You lit your own with a sigh, absentmindedly tossing the lighter to your father.

“Thought you drank.”

He shrugged, taking a drag. “Got too reliant on it. Tried to wean myself off with cigarettes. Now they’re both my vices.”

Mentally chastising him, you pressed your lips around the cigarette, taking the sort of drag you’d seen in the movies — immediately coughing as your lungs singed in protest. You groaned, nearly dropping the thing — feeling your dad’s hand steady yours till the fit subsided.

He made the motion of holding a breath before you let it go, so you tried that — you still coughed, sure, but your head started to go a little fuzzy. Your own actions started to root themselves out of your excuses. You were sick, your father was sick, and this whole house ought to be burned to the ground — but the revelation only prompted acceptance. Neutrality. Long-forsaken calm.

So you breathed in again. Cough. Let the dread stifle itself. Good people make mistakes. Rape, in this case, was a mistake. You made a mistake. You are good.

Your father laughed at the cough, again. You phased him out. Another drag, another breath, another beat.

You’re not a bad woman, Kennedy.

#leon kennedy #dead dove fic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut

[localkiss]

[localkiss]

LAWDDD HE CAN GET IT. 🤭if I were about to marry somebody and saw HIS FINE ASS nauuuuyhh... I would run away with him so fast 😭likeee psych you thought!

“Yes many do,” he took the invitation to have his hand place on your exposed thigh, roaming it up and down and slightly lifting your silky dress, so close it exposed your lack of underwear; Leon looked at your cunt with hunger as he felt his cock grow with looks and fantasies building from just imagining to fill that pretty pussy of yours, to give you everything he wanted to over the years. You sat there for a moment, wanting him to just take you, to smash your body against the table and feel him fuck you hard — but you were a wife. I am HIS WIFE NOW. Forget about the son 🧎🏻‍♀️

“You would have made a great wife for me,” he uttered as he slowly pressed his length inside you, releasing a laboured and long breath as he felt your wet walls surround him, feeling you clasp around him and beg to make you his. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he hissed. I'm his wife. He is mine. Like c'mon, I would let this man do all sorts of nasty things 😫!! Father in law no more!

He raised an eyebrow out of interest: “Oh, I thought this was a one time thing,” he slowly released as he continued to thrust himself in your aching pussy, his fingers pressed into your hips as he forced himself inside. Yes yes yes. Omfg I need another part of this!!! Waitt, it would go hard if they fucked right next to the son 😭😭 and like they wear matching rings n stuff. I mean she already has his last name, nobody would know any better 😈. This is gonna be a million time thing Leon, trust me.

i shall read this again later 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Marriage is just a piece of paper ~ Leon Kennedy oneshot

father-in-law!leon kennedy x daughter-in-law!afab!reader

summary - Leon has had his eyes on you ever since his son introduced you to him, and after the honeymoon he decides he won’t let your union come in the way of what he wants.

cw - this fic contains pseudo-incest and heavy smut; actions in this fic are not condoned; I do not condone everything I write; this is just fiction where real people cannot get hurt, continue at your own discretion // 18+ heavy smut (mdni), description of disappointing sex with partner, pseudo-incest, injury, slight hurt/comfort, touching, tit play, unprotected sex (p in v), back scratching, dirty talk, and coming inside. (word count: 2.4k)

Honeymoon. A period of harmony following marriage. The word is known and experienced by many, whether it is a short getaway, a dream vacation, everyone has the notion that the honeymoon entails a dream like state of beauty. You, like many others, dreamt of sharing a honeymoon with a lover for so long, expecting it to be one of the best moment of your life, next to the actual marriage ceremony. After all, it’s in the name with the connotations it provides. Honey implies sweetness, and the moon casts an imagery of beauty and romance.

But expectations tend not to be fulfilled.

You and your partner had everything planned: going to your dream destination, it was a smooth journey, didn’t forget anything, surrounded by wonderful people, culture, many things to do and plenty of time to complete them and rest… But those weeks were the worst weeks of your whole relationship.

The first night was okay, nothing exciting. You got to your place and had some spontaneous sex, but it didn’t quite hit the spot, you felt like you had to perform every moan, every whine, and every movement — but you just ignored that, thinking you were just tired from all the travelling. Then, you tried a second time, you felt zoned out and faked another orgasm, it wasn’t one of your proudest moments. The third time, you two just stopped in the middle of everything because neither of you “felt it”, cleaning yourselves up and rolling over to go to sleep. You two were newly weds, but it felt like being trapped in a loveless marriage of 30 years.

The sex just stopped altogether on that journey. You did most things separately, him going on retreats and you staying at the beach; the only times you were together was just before bed watching whatever show the hotel allowed on and dinner time. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be, but communication was a terrifying thing.

You two came back and were greeted with your house needing to have some renervations to be completed; you were lucky your partners father, Mr. Kennedy opened his home to you with no questions asked.

Mr. Kennedy was always lovely to you. You were terrified of meeting your partners father, but the moment you saw him all those fears melted away; he accepted you, supported and never made you feel unwelcome, he would even allow you to call him by his first name but you always felt uneasy and disrespectful.

You were now in a sea of thoughts about the honeymoon, analysing every moment and every bit of shared speech — but there was little speech to be focused on. Standing in the kitchen in a silky night dress that came to the midway of your thighs, distracting yourself with the coldest glass of water, the wet surrounding the glassy outlayer dampening your fingers as you stared out into the garden, surrounded by nothing but darkness and street lamps.

You were a wife. It was difficult to let that settle in, especially when the happiness of that wasn’t even short lived, it was non existent. It seemed like god was playing a cruel joke on you, punishing you for maybe picking the wrong person, or not trying hard enough. Whatever it was, you wanted it to stop.

As you kicked your head back to finish the last drops, feeling the cold wave pass down your throat you turned around to put the glass away, startled at your sight of Mr. Kennedy standing in the doorway.

Smash.

The sound of glass hitting the tiled floor filled the room, leaving you to hurriedly trying to pick everything up in a panic, Mr. Kennedy coming to your aid.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to, you know I wouldn’t do this on purp… Ahh!” you felt a piece of sharp glass slide against your gentle and soft skin of your index finger, automatically shoving the tip of your finger into your mouth, feeling the metallic thick taste of blood coat your tastebuds.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay dear, go sit down I’ll clean this up,” you hesitated at first just followed suit with sitting at the dinning room table just a few steps away from him; guilt eating at you as you heard the clatter of glass as he swept it all up.

The moment all the glass was swept away and collected in the bin, he came over to you with those kind eyes, motioning with his hands to come take a look at your finger.

“Ooo, seems like a nasty cut,” he said with sympathy, reaching out to a box in the middle of the table and grabbing a band aid, before gently wrapping it around your finger, gently shushing you as you winced in pain.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you smiled.

“You know it’s okay to call me Leon sweetheart,” you quickly apologised and rephrased your previous statement with the replacement of his last to his first name, “Why are you here, shouldn’t you be asleep, it’s quite late.”

“I could say the same thing to you… Leon.”

“Stop avoiding the question. What’s wrong? My son hasn’t hurt you has he?” a streak of protectiveness was shown.

“No. No. He’s been wonderful. Just… Just kinda getting used to the whole… being a wife thing,” the tone of your voice dropped in the last few words, you still couldn’t comprehend that you were a wife, especially with the lack of opportunity to feel like one.

“Trouble in paradise? You shouldn’t be having those thoughts, it’s too early for that.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“The honeymoon wasn’t exactly a honeymoon. We barely spent time together.” you felt him look at you differently, just then, feeling like his gaze was never going to sway and feeling like it was glued to your form, “anyways… thank you for helping me, I best get some sleep.”

As you were walking to your room, you were stopped with a rough hand grab your wrist. You never experienced this before with him. He never touched you like this; the only times he touched you was to hug you.

“Why don’t you stay… I could keep you company… Besides I can’t sleep anyways, I’m sure my son wouldn’t appreciate being awoken to you coming back to bed,” there was a small moment of feeling alarmed, just then, but that was easily and quickly diluted to how much trust you had in him.

You sat back down in your seat, feeling his gaze get stronger as the thin strap of your nightdress elegantly fell to the side; you didn’t think much of it and went to put it back in place, but Leon bet you to it. He leaned in and let his fingers tuck onto the band, placing it back on your shoulder and letting it linger there for a few moments before gliding down the soft skin of your arm — all you could do was blush at how close he was, and how touchy he was starting to become.

You should have turned him down right then; but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like him taking the freedom to get closer to you. All you could do was let out a soft giggle to ease the tension of unspoken words and exchanging glances between you two.

“I don’t know why he didn’t spend that much time with you. I wouldn’t leave your side,” your blush was getting intense, feeling how warm your face was and how your body was beginning to tremble with slight tremors due to his gaze.

“Thank you… I appreciate that… But I guess that’s what I have to get used to… besides married couples do tend to spent more time apart… or so I’ve heard.”

“Yes many do,” he took the invitation to have his hand place on your exposed thigh, roaming it up and down and slightly lifting your silky dress, so close it exposed your lack of underwear; Leon looked at your cunt with hunger as he felt his cock grow with looks and fantasies building from just imagining to fill that pretty pussy of yours, to give you everything he wanted to over the years. You sat there for a moment, wanting him to just take you, to smash your body against the table and feel him fuck you hard — but you were a wife.

You slowly pulled down the hem of your dress, looking away and not wanting to greet that blue eyed gaze that was already undressing you with suggesting staring.

“You know, the couples that do stray away from one another do it for a reason,” his hand ventured further and you could feel his fingers just hoovering around your pulsating heat, “sometimes that distance helps people find the one they need. It starts with just one night, then another, and then they find the right person.”

He wanted you. God he fucking needed to feel you, to hold you, to hear you, he wanted that for years and now he was taking the chance.

“… I’m not a bad person… This is wrong,” morality and sexual wanting was fighting in your brain, you needed a sweet release but knew betraying your husband was despicable, how would you feel if he laid with another ?

“You can’t deny that you want me… Is it so bad to indulge in a natural instinct, after all marriage for love is a new conception… The human body knows what it wants,” his voice was thick and smooth like honey, it enticed you with temptation running its course through each and every word and action Leon gave to you.

“And we live in a world where the conception is practiced. I married your son… I made vows that man, I signed the papers,” you tried to argue.

“Marriage is just a piece of paper, sweetheart… And right now, you can’t deny we both want to rip that paper up as much as I want to rip that dress from off of you,” he was leaning even closer.

“Will you… Will you keep it a secret?” if you were going to indulge in immorality you needed to cover your tracks.

“I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t tell anything you don’t say first. Now let me see if my fantasies come close to reality.”

Just then you felt a heat pool in every corner inside your body, feeling that urge and letting it make you lunge right into his arms, and letting him kiss you has hard as he wanted, feeling your lips collide with each interlock as your tongues glided against one another’s as he roamed his hands along your body as if he was your actual husband. You quietly moaned as his grabbed the fat of your ass, leaving an imprint of his hand the harder he squeezed it.

“Mmm,” you moaned continuously within that deepening kiss that made your core get hotter and needier, you felt Leon grow against you as he finally pulled the straps of your dress and tugged the material harshly, leaving the straps to snap off, and leaving you fully exposed under his scrutiny and the cold bite of the air surrounding you both.

“Fuck. You look even better than I imagined,” he cooed in your ear as he let his large and calloused hand grab your prominent breast, making you yelp at his touch, having him grab harder and with purpose the more he kissed you, and left bites on your lower lip.

“Oh god,” you groaned as you tossed your head back the moment he let his thumb and index finger trap your pebbled nipple and pinch it, rolling the bud along his fingers as he left you panting. “L-Leon,” you let out a whispered hush, just before he pushed his lower half into you and made you collapse on the table, leaving you to sit and wait for his next move.

You watched as he stripped himself and exposed his strong phsique, getting you even wetter as he frayed his hands by his waist and pulled down his pants, exposing his large and erect member that was tinted with a blush of red and wet with precum, waiting to come inside your entrance. You bit your lip as he started to stroke along the shaft, pumping himself before meeting the tip of his cock in your wet folds; you whimpered with just his slight touch, you wanted needed him. You felt yourself grow more impatient the more he slid along the folds that left a slick on his cock, leaving him to play at smirk at the corner of his lips to himself.

He finally had you.

“Do you want me?” he whispered in your ear.

“Of course I do.”

“You would have made a great wife for me,” he uttered as he slowly pressed his length inside you, releasing a laboured and long breath as he felt your wet walls surround him, feeling you clasp around him and beg to make you his. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he hissed.

You let your body go and feel every single thrust Leon pumped into you, hearing his gutteral groans and dirty whispers in your ear everytime he pushed his large, throbbing cock inside and hit that perfect spot just right. You press your mouth against his shoulder, trying so hard not to let out your moans and wake your real husband up.

“God, all I want is to hear that pretty mouth scream my name,” he uttered.

“He’s g-gone tomorrow.”

He raised an eyebrow out of interest: “Oh, I thought this was a one time thing,” he slowly released as he continued to thrust himself in your aching pussy, his fingers pressed into your hips as he forced himself inside.

“I need you so much more.”

You saw a glimmer cross his blue eyes, a darkening clouding his vision just before he smashed his lips against yours, groaning into your mouth as he rocks his hips back and forth, picking up the pace to fuck that pretty pussy of yours.

He thumbs your puffy clit as he continues to fuck and drill into your cunt, jabbing that sweet spot over and over again.

“I want you to cum on me, I want to see your face as you do it,” he moans as he continues to maintain the pace with bucking his hips forward and circling your sensitive bud, making your breathing depending and elongating every time he messes with you.

You reach your peak with his masterful movements, letting out pants as you cover his cock with your release; shuddering, you not long after feel his nails dig into your back, lightly scratching and making you wince, as he releases streams of hot cum inside you, making your eyes roll back to your head as you feel him pump his seed further into you and make you his.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.”

a/n: when i posted this on my wips post (in pinned post) i saw excitement to the father in law leon so i just had to post it. i will say ik it’s a little rushed but i wanted to get it out a bit quicker, i might also write some more father in law stuff, we’ll see. i hope you lot like this and all engagement is appreciated *kiss kiss*

#leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #death island leon #leon scott kennedy

[localkiss]

good god 🙏🏻😫 this is MY rookie!! Like on god, this is how I picture himmmmm. His cockiness is like chef's kiss Omfgggg.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. You heard ‘em out there. I get things done fast and efficiently,” he teases as his lips unlatch from your neck. HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOH

He grins with a mocking look in his eyes, but he obliges you. He slips it in and lets out a deep breath, savoring the way you squeeze around him.“Think you should’ve won most desperate,” he teases, “Or maybe neediest little slut.” That's it. He's getting it 😫I'm throwing hands with him!!! ...With my lips 😝

“Yeah? You gonna cum already, baby? That’s pretty fast. Maybe that’s another award you should win,” he pants. Gnawing. On. My bed!

Like Lovers Do

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: Bored with the RPD's fundraising banquet, you pull Leon away to have some fun in a storage closet.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, friends with benefits

word count: 2.1k

a/n: the chris and leon drabble is next i swear. i just change my mind like every five seconds lmao. i hope everyone enjoys :) as always, i appreciate all the reblogs and comments <3

Applause sounds throughout the banquet hall as Leon flashes his awkward smile. He holds up the small, cheap trophy he’d won, the words Rookie of the Year displayed on the plaque at the base. He’s quick to walk away from the microphone and exit the stage, returning to his seat next to you. Your boss takes his place, but your attention is consumed by him.

“Wow. I see how it is. Don’t even mention me in your speech for your prestigious award,” you say in a hushed voice, a grin spreading across your features.

His cheeks tinge pink as his own smile graces your vision. “I did mention you. I said my partner,” he responds, “Plus, don’t act like you really care about these things.”

You roll your eyes playfully. It was true. You didn’t care about the little superlatives the department gave out for entertainment at the annual fundraising banquet. But that wouldn’t stop you from complaining about your loss to Leon and his perceived lack of appreciation for you.

“I do care actually. And I guess that’s true, but it wasn’t very specific,” you say, “If I’d won, I would have mentioned you.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he shakes his head. “My sincerest apologies,” he says, connecting his eyes with yours.

Just seeing him like this was getting you all worked up. He looked as handsome as you’d ever seen him in his suit. You’d also been wanting to ditch this thing for a while now. You’d shown up and said hi to everyone as you were expected to do. Now you’d grown tired of watching your colleagues galavant around with their dates and swap stories from the job.

“Hmmm… well you know. I think I have a way you could make it up to me,” you say, keeping your voice quiet to not catch the attention of anyone sitting near you.

Leon raises an eyebrow, but of course, he knew exactly what you meant. You both were insatiable for one another. That small lilt in your voice alone clued him in. You’d almost conditioned him to pop a boner when he heard it.

“Do you?” he teases back.

“Mhm,” you nod, rubbing your hand up and down his thigh beneath the table, “Follow me in a couple minutes.”

You rise from your seat. You make sure to be quiet and not draw any attention to yourself, but your hands still rest on your stomach, giving the appearance that you’re suffering some sort of sudden illness. You walk away from the tables and over to the hallway doors, the points of your heels softly clicking against the ground as you go.

Once you’re out, you turn back and watch Leon through the little slit of a window in the door. You see him wait for a few minutes and then look around as if he’s concerned for where you’ve gone. Then he rises in the same way you did and makes his way to the same set of doors.

As he opens them, a giggle bursts from your lips and you pull his body against your own. The two of you lean in for a few kisses. “Nice work, superstar. I’m sure the next thing you’ll be winning is an oscar,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as that blush grows a little stronger. He nips at your bottom lip and deepens the kiss before you pull away to walk further down the hall.

The RPD held this event at this place every single year. It was the first for both you and Leon, both freshly graduated. You look around curiously at your surroundings as you head to another door near the ones you’d entered from. You notice the hallway lined with academy graduation photos. Upon closer examination, you spot yourself in the one hanging next to the new door 

“Aww, we look so young here,” you coo, looking at the framed picture of your and Leon’s class. 

A chuckle comes from over your shoulder before you feel him kissing up your neck. “It was only a year ago,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, but you have such a baby face here,” you tease.

“What can I say? A year of working with you has really worn me down,” he replies.

He cracks open the door, and you see inside is just a storage closet. You pull him by the collar of his suit into the small space. He follows eagerly and pushes you up against the wall.

“I’m so sure, Mr. Rookie of the Year,” you taunt, catching him in another kiss.

Your hand slides into his hair, threading through the blonde locks as your lips move with his. Meanwhile, his palms coast up your side, feeling the smooth fabric of your party dress beneath his fingers. His foot knocks into your ankle, a small signal for you to spread your legs.

“Well it’s not so shocking when you consider that I only won because half the time I’m on the job, I’m cleaning up your messes,” he jokes between kisses.

“I think between the two of us, you’re the messy one,” you say back and turn around to deepen the kiss.

His left hand rises to your breast on the same side, squeezing the mound and drawing a tender sigh from you. His right slides down your thigh and lifts your leg by the crux of your knee. He grinds his growing bulge against your panties, a soft moan falling from his lips at the familiar sensation.

This was far from the first time the two of you had done this. It was far from the first time you’d done this with other people only a few rooms away. At work, you’d done it in the bathrooms, the locker room, the dark room, the storage room in the other wing of offices. You’d even done it in Leon’s cruiser once on a boring night. Sometimes it felt surprising you even managed to make it to a secluded place.

You weren’t even fully sure of what you and Leon were to each other. Neither of you had ever put a title on this dance you did. You both let yourselves run on pure lust without much care for fine details. If you were being honest, you were pretty sure you were in love with him. You’d had a crush on him since your first day in the academy. He’d had you hooked on him since the first time you slept together on the night of your graduation in a drunken hurricane of unfiltered desire.

In your heart, not much had changed since that night. The two of you are still wrapped up in a flurry of kisses as he slowly rocks against you, grunting quietly. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the feeling of your body around his. Lowering his head, he starts kissing your neck again. Your noises are the same volume as his, just a bit whinier.

“We gotta be quick,” you mumble against the side of his head. You drag your nose against his soft tendrils of hair. A shaky breath blows against the side of his head.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. You heard ‘em out there. I get things done fast and efficiently,” he teases as his lips unlatch from your neck.

The cocky expression on his face only got you hotter. You pull him into a more aggressive kiss, your noses mashing against one another. His breaths fan over your face as his hands tug your panties down to your knees. He then cups both of your legs behind the knees, folding you in half against the wall.

He pins you there with his own weight as he pulls himself out of his pants. His fingers fish a condom out of his pocket and tear the foil quickly before tossing it aside, leaving it for some poor person to find at a later date. You don’t think of that in the moment though. You’re more enraptured with how you can feel the heat of his tip nudging at the wetness between your legs even with the latex barrier between you.

“Put it in,” you whimper and squirm in his grasp. The teasing side of you was fading fast as need took over.

He grins with a mocking look in his eyes, but he obliges you. He slips it in and lets out a deep breath, savoring the way you squeeze around him.

“Think you should’ve won most desperate,” he teases, “Or maybe neediest little slut.”

You go to defend yourself, but all that comes out is a whine. The confident side of him rears its head. It was kind of funny to you how your dynamic would shift once he got you craving his cock. Another mewl escapes you as his hips retract and push forward again.

“What was that? You know I’m right. You couldn’t even wait to get back to your apartment,” he continues.

He begins pumping his hips for real, and all you can get out for a moment are broken whimpers. He fucked you just right, always did. He was blessed with a thick cock that rubbed up against your insides in a way that felt like heaven. Your legs clamp against his sides as your head tilts back against the wall. The thrum of the bass starts vibrating through the cement again, letting you know they had turned on the music again in the other room.

“Fuck Leon…” you breathe before crying out sharply as he rotates his hips to hit your sweet spot.

Your own hand flies to your mouth to cover it and muffle any other noises. He smiles at the sight and kisses your cheek, resting his forehead against your temple.

“That’s right, gotta keep quiet. If anyone walked by and heard, we’d both be getting fucked,” he says and continues rocking the both of your bodies as he thrusts into you.

You nod. Your other arm wraps around him tight to keep yourself supported. You’re starting to sweat, but you can feel that he is too. Fucking fully clothed probably wasn’t the smartest idea either of you had indulged in, but it felt too good for you too honestly care. Your hand slips down of your face as the pleasure takes over a bit more.

“Leon… fuck, I can’t…” you moan softly.

He guides your hand back to your lips before returning his own to your knee to keep you up. His fingers dig into your legs with a bruising grip and he thrusts quicker.

“Yeah? You gonna cum already, baby? That’s pretty fast. Maybe that’s another award you should win,” he pants.

“Shut up,” you mumble against your hand as your hips start involuntarily rolling against his.

Your breasts push up against his chest as your body writhes against the wall. He just keeps going, wanting to work you to the edge you were fast approaching. His shaft slides in and out over and over. You smile as your head spins with the pleasure.

“I feel it coming,” he whispers, “I feel you getting all tight. Just cum for me. Let it out.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You let the coil inside you snap and moan into the palm of your hand. You buck and bury your head in the crook of his neck. His eyes close, focusing everything he has on his own release. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s attempting to silence his groans against your flesh. His hips jump and his knees quiver for a moment.

He holds inside you for a moment longer, letting the both of you come down before you attempt acting normal again. When that time comes though, he carefully pulls out of you and helps you back onto your feet. Your legs are kind of wobbly, but you maintain your balance. You work on fixing your dress and hair as Leon gets rid of the condom and puts himself back together.

You reach down to pull your panties up, but he stops you, shaking his head and smiling at you.

“Give ‘em to me,” he says.

You stare at him for a moment, in some form of disbelief, but you go with it. You liked the idea just as much as he did. Letting them fall to the floor, you step out of them and then pick them up and place them in his hand. He shoves them into his pocket, smug smirk on his face the whole time.

He then pulls you by your waist for one more kiss. “C’mon, we should go back now. Don’t want anybody thinking we ran off.”

You laugh a little and nod. “We should just run off though,” you say.

“Only a couple more hours and we can. My place or yours, we can go back and replay that all night long,” he says before giving you a smack on the ass and following you back to the hall to return to the party of unknowing guests.

#resident evil smut #re2 leon #leon scott kennedy #cocky Leon is the best... Me thinks!

[localkiss]

hhhhrrrmmmmnmmnn.... I feel like starting over w this hybrid fic bro ☹️it feels so ... Stupid 💀

#rambling xd #but maybe I should just keep writing and see how it goes lmaooo

[localkiss]

*gulp* the second pic. The second pic the second pic ... I'm itching to draw puppy Leon and to finish my fic of him omfg 😭🥺lawd save me!!!

pet POV (pt 12): ch0king the puppy

Uncensored version (free)

#leon kennedy #puppy!leon kennedy #i need him #yummy asf #will be working on fics ok .. and maybe art to go w it . ...... .

[localkiss]

STAR THIS IS SO GOODDD !!!! 🥺I need to hold him and kiss him and make all his worries go away!! This made me giggle a lil and it just felt so natural, so right. Felt so in character and sooo relatable.

Probably gonna read it again n again!

now playing: <the scars we bear> 00:00/43:00

starring: older!Leon x hooker!reader

MDNI + tw: brothel, inaccurate depictions of erectile dysfunction (?), fluff, suggestive (ish), thoughts of death, alcoholism, nsfw

playing next: <pieces of a whole> 00:00/55:00

☆ star's note: special thanks to @cherubify for beta reading and @abadtzmaru for editing!

☆ starlets: @mrswint3rs @ghostsghoul @elihii @iixtsmee @admirxation @ressespearlz @shiawaseorii @rigorwhoring @sqiim @localkiss @d10nyx @porcelainseashore

Leon sat alone in the living room with his head leaned back against the back rest of the couch. the glass of whiskey had long been forgotten when he now had the bottle by the neck. he should be outside, celebrating. it was what he had been slaving his life away for after all. the eradication of bio terror. regulations had been set, talks about it are going about, black markets have been cleared, and it was going good. no more back to back missions.

he let out a weighted sigh, wishing and praying that on top of the miracle that was occurring, god would pay him cheese tax for having busted his ass for ages and allow him to get drunk again. he wanted to not think for a while. just wake up the next day with a banging headache threatening to split his skull and covered in hurl of almost entirely bile and that one protein bar Hunnigan made him eat before he went home. or rather the empty coldness of the apartment he happened to have a bed in. he took another swig, feeling it burn his gums as it sloshed past his teeth. he wondered if his health insurance would cover dentures as well. he can lump it on top of all the other aches he had. his back, knees, neck, and shoulders, you name it.

at the age of 47, he found himself wondering what could have been had he ran that day with Claire and Sherry. maybe they could have staked out in motels for a while, get new identities, be a family? September 30th 1998. will it ever be a day he can forget? and if he did miraculously manage to forget, will everything fix itself? filled in cracks and duct tape around holes where the shards were too powdered to fit. Claire. he missed her. not in a weird way. in a way that survivors with a trauma bond, a close friendship, and a sort of shared guardianship custody of a now fully grown girl who would forever be little in your eyes would. but there were just some things that you learn to let go. because if you keep holding on to the what ifs, it'll only hurt worse.

sure they did see each other at events, gatherings, all of those things. but he missed that feeling of relief and connection they shared as the three of them walked out of Raccoon City's carnage. the calmest time he had ever experienced. his eyes stung. did the dribbles of whiskey on his fingers get in? he wiped his eyes at his sleeve. he must be getting old. too old and too tired. a double whammy.

and so that was how he found himself at the doors of a neon lighted establishment. the type that mothers would take a longer detour to avoid explaining things to their kids. the kind where drunk losers (not so different from him), unfaithful husbands, and sketchy people hung around. the modern day brothel. he wondered how this place was still up and running. he rubbed the stiff in the back of his neck and stepped in.

the counter was a sleazy bald man with a gold tooth. Leon blinked blankly at the sight. did he step through a time portal? was this man a typical sleazebag incarnate who escaped from the television world? he took a deep breath which made his ribs hurt and gave the man a half smile.

"any preference for ya?"

his voice was nasally and his eyes were beady as they stared at Leon. Leon found himself shaking his head.

"no. i'll take whatever you have."

Leon says. that was practically his life motto wasn't it? the government throws shit in his face because it's whatever they have and he takes it. day after day. year after year. a quick cheap lay would make things better. it had to. sex was the only thing he hadn't had in a while. must be what was missing. men have needs. they don't need to go for therapy continuously because the first and only session they had ever attended did not help whatsoever. and besides, wasn't it called...a placebo? if he thinks sex will solve all his problems, it will.

and so he took the keycard from the counter's sweaty palms and began trudging down to room 17-C. the room where 'the sweetest lay you'll ever get' resided. he fiddled with the keycard as he waited for the rickety lift to bring him up. if he was lucky, the cords holding it together would snap at the level he was supposed to alight and send him plunging to his death. but if god couldn't even pay him a miniscule cheese tax of getting inebriated in an attempt to regain control over his life, why would he be granted such mercy?

before he knew it, he was at the door. he knocked on it and waited. it felt wrong to just use the keycard and barge in like the sleazebag counter implied. and he would also rather not accidentally stumble upon another client. the shame of being here was gnawing at his barely addled whiskey brain; seeing dick and balls would just remind him of the military, and he would rather not remember that at all.

"come in, sweetheart. use the keycard."

the voice was soft and sultry as it called out to him, muffled by the wood of the door. he did as he was told and entered the room. his eyes shifted to the floor awkwardly. he did not know where to look or where to stand or what to do entirely. he was out of his element which felt funny to even consider because he had been constantly put in situations throughout his life. there was a soft rustling sound and he finally looked up.

"is this your first time, handsome?"

you asked him, head tilted to the side curiously. you were positively the sweetest looking girl he had seen in a while. usually the ones he saw were either friends, mysterious hook ups, the president's daughter, or downright rotting and falling apart. his heart raced.

"yeah and uh...the name's Leon Kennedy. but a doll like you can call me, Leon."

he says, face stretching into a grin that looked more like a grimace. he watched your face wrinkle subconsciously as you tried to stifle either a giggle or blatant disgust. the curse of being trained for observance has graced him once more and he felt his face warm. he finally processed how awkward it all sounded and mentally groaned. was it too late for him to induce that lift accident himself?

"okay, Leon Kennedy, what did you have in mind today? to preface, anything is fine unless i use the safeword and we can begin whenever you're ready."

you tell him, leaning closer and putting on your client facing seductive smile. your hands trailed to his shoulder and took off his gunmetal blue leather jacket. he gulped softly and nodded.

"what's the safe word, doll?"

he asks, looking at you as you held onto his jacket with the tips of your fingers. your smile turned teasing and the rouge of your lips brushed against his ear as you spoke.

"why? you've got something really messed up in mind, huh?"

you asked him, tracing the prickle of his stubble gently. he couldn't help but notice how your whole persona was arousing but at the same time almost...haunting. he scanned the room, your fingers, and then your eyes. he froze. it was like staring down the crystalline amber at the bottom of his whiskey glass. your eyes were his.

his silence made your fingers still and you found yourself searching into his blue gaze. the type that looked as if they hold too much of the world and nothing at the same time. your brows furrow slightly and you felt your heart tighten just a little in your chest. so you did what you did best. you kissed him. the taste of lingered whiskey and the feel of plush lips against your own. his hands traveled to the back of your neck as he pulled you in closer.

he wasn't a bad snog. his tongue parted your lips and he further deepened it. not forcefully or disgustingly slobbery like most of the other men before. it felt just right. down to the way his scruff tickled the soft skin of your face. he tasted dizzyingly good too. this was going to be the easiest lay of your day. he was stunning, relatively gentle, and not a creep. it was a major win in your books considering you had to deal with a balding sixty year old who probably brushed his teeth with cigars and ass.

he was pressing you against the cheap motel bed which creaked beneath the weight. his calloused fingers fumbled with his belt and you snuck a glance by pulling away to pepper kisses down his throat and shoulder. there was no bulge. tough crowd? your hands began to palm at his boxers which made his teeth grit. he was breathing heavily but it only twitched.

"hun, hold up..."

you say as he kissed you almost feverishly. he pulled away with flushed lips and half lidded eyes, pupils blown. you bit the inside of your cheek. this was gonna be a hard talk.

"hun you're not...forgetting anything?"

you ask gently, holding his face in your hands. he was breathing a little heavier eyes–dazed. he shook his head.

"no."

he breathed out before leaning in to kiss you, hands roaming to hold you close. you pressed a hand to his lips.

"you...sure, hun? you're not..."

you trailed off looking him in the eyes and praying that he got the hint.

"not what, doll?"

he says, eyes still trained on your lips as he wet his a little with the tip of his tongue. when you don't respond, his eyes meet yours. there was a desperation in it. not the type of desperation when a man needed a good fuck. it was more a desperation for something else entirely. like he was reaching for something to hold on to. anything at all. your heart tightened again. it felt all too familiar. you took a deep breath.

"not...hard, hun."

you tell him, your voice shaking a little.

"it works just fine, doll. trust me."

he says. although it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself. that he was in need of a good fuck and nothing else. definitely nothing else that was more important to his wellbeing. he leaned in once more to kiss you and this time you let him. he began taking off his shirt and you did the same to your skimpy top, unclasping your bra. he looked at you and smiled softly.

"so pretty for me, doll. guess the counter was right, huh?"

he says. if it were anyone else you'd be grossed out but the way he said it made it seem like a genuine compliment. again, you read his eyes instead of his lips. you couldn't help the tenderness that began to rise from within the depthly caverns of your chest. a feeling you had long forgotten.

"hey...Leon? we can take it slow you know. you're my last customer anyway..."

you tell him and his smile faltered. you laid down beneath his hovering form and patted the empty space of the mattress next to you. he seemed to scan your face to figure out exactly what was happening but he didn't seem to get it. and yet, he still laid next to you anyways. both of you laid in your underwear, staring at the ceiling.

the mould spots, the dust, and the dirt that layered the ceiling and the lights were an all too familiar sight. you see it first thing in the morning, when a customer fucks you and you do the thing where you zone out and then pretend to cum when they do, before you sleep, and even now. in a way, it was a little memoir of your humble abode. the sound of him clearing his throat next to you made you turn to face him. his brown hair was splayed on the pillow case and he was studying the ceiling too.

"i'm sorry."

he says, his voice softer and deeper. you smiled. despite everything, his apology brought out a genuine smile from you.

"what for, hun? you didn't do anything wrong."

you say, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of his chest. his skin was littered in scars of every kind. you ran the pad if your index finger over each one, watching him shiver at your cold touch. almost as if he was holding himself from recoiling away.

"i can uh...eat you out. make up for it."

he suggests in a joking tone which trembled at the end of it. you exhaled softly. not an entirely bad offer but not right now. not when he's clearly going through it and is attempting to brush it all of with a cheap fuck.

"do you trust me, Leon?"

you asked him gently as you tucked away his hair. he pursed his lips and shut his eyes for a little before nodding. he found himself stunned at the fact that he was willing to trust this woman whom he had just met at most an hour ago. he couldn't even trust anymore, having been betrayed over and over again by strangers and acquaintances alike. so why...? what made this special? what made her special? his thoughts screeched to a standstill as she gently turned him and wrapped her arms around him snugly.

his breath hitched in his throat. he laid there awkwardly, unable to think. he felt his chest stricken and his breaths grew heavy.

"turn for me, sweetheart. let me hold you."

your voice filled his being with a sense of something he hadn't felt in a long time. he turned, his silver scars and chiselled back pressed against the soft of your bare chest. if this had been any other situation, his dick would have hardened, they would have had sex, and his problems would have been solved–who was he kidding? you heard him sniffle. once. twice. and then a choked sob. you held on tighter, pressing your face against the crook of his neck. you rubbed his sides soothingly. you teared up. it felt like you were being entrusted with something so raw and vulnerable. something that not many people would put in the hands of someone like you.

the both of you laid there in a gentle silence. it felt like a respite from the constant shit that life threw at you. he was now facing you, forehead pressed against yours, and eyes red from having cried so much. you held onto him, fingers tracing against each and every scar as if to memorise the missing shards of him, and put him back together. his own muscular arms had made it's home around your waist, pressing you so close to him. the bareness of your skin was bathed in silver moonlight and everything felt right. even if it was just for a moment.

even if at the end of the day you were two strangers, a broken man and a hooker, laying in the soiled sheets of a sleazy brothel.

and against the rules of your job, you let him sleep in your room. it felt nice to be held so intimately in somebody's arms without the need to provide sex for them. it almost made you believe that sex isn't all you were good for. that you deserved this borderline loving treatment and intimacy. if you closed your eyes and deluded yourself enough, maybe it'll come true.

#death island leon #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #need to comfort him.... gawdd let me comfort leon pls🥺🙏🏻!!

[localkiss]

inspired by boop day, reblog this post if its ok for people to send you random asks and interact on your posts with no judgement. i want to talk to people.

[localkiss]

YOU’VE JUST BEEN BUNNIED!!

omf hai bonnie 😭!!

:3 tyy for the bunny pic! this is gonna b me n you btw!

#asks ! #bunny pics #:3 #localkiss

[localkiss]

mariaaaa 👏👏 read screaming for attention during a lecture. SOO worth it💕

omfg 😭😭you read it during a lecture!!? I'm sooo glad you liked it cecilia!! 🫶🏻

#i just 🥺🥺🥺🥺 #ty for reading #asks ! #localkiss

[localkiss]

Screaming for attention!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil smut #leon smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #leon resident evil #re4 leon #re4r leon #leon scott kennedy #localkiss

[localkiss]

cleon cleon cleon cleon

#cleon #both at the same time..

[localkiss]

*gulp* he's so smooth ... Let me lick his stomach 🙏🏻😔lord

Damn.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy resident evil #wow...

[localkiss]

omg star ty for the tag!! 😘

I made myself :P !

ermm idk who to tag 😭 @bunnyclaire @ovaryacted @leonkennedygvrl

Tag game!!!

Do this quiz

And this picrew

And tag people(obviously)

@anartistwithamask @gummy-axolotl @shadowthegay @auseryoumayknow @copper-ichor @moonysfavoritetoast @alexthescaredenby @invaderxeya @fungal-boy-witch-yay @artists-void @hazbin-hotel-lucifer-simp @ka1-the-pr0ot @theautumnalcat

#moots #tag game #:3

[localkiss]

ehhe thank u for reading aftr dark maria :3 glad u likey!!

xoxo, ina <3

omg hi ina !!! I LOVEEE all your work like I wish I could write like you 🤭🫶🏻

#localkiss #asks !

[localkiss]

IM SWEATING... MY MOUTH IS DRY. IM KICKING MY FEET RN 🧎🏻‍♀️wheeewwww. I need step bro Leon so bad it's not funny 🥺

AFTER DARK / LEON KENNEDY

6.6k words

cw: stepsister! reader, re4r cop leon, pseudo-incest, noncon, dubcon, soft somnophilia, sleep paralysis, fingering, unprotected p-in-v, cunnilingus, choking, slight breeding, super slight anal, dumbification, shower scene, virginity, dead dove do not eat / minors dni

a/n: reqqy by lovely @xoxostarlet <3 tysm!! hope it lives up to ur expectations teehee.. also first time writing some of the content pls show mercy ack.. leon's rlly delulu here n he thinks he knows the solulu (he doesn't). thx for reading!!

After what happened to your father, mother would always warn you about the dangers that lurked in the shadows after dark. It was an archaic but relevant truth that girls shouldn’t be out and about once the sun set, as wolves prowled the streets for any unsuspecting sheep they could sink their fangs into. Especially for blossoming young ladies, who shone the brightest in the night, like stars in a lonely sky. So you took it upon yourself to return home before dinner, when the sun still hung high in the sky and you could see your feet in front of you. While your college mates partied till the crack of dawn, you took pride in returning home for a warm meal with your mother before sunset.

However, your efforts were for naught. All because your mother never told you about the dangers in your own home after dark.

Your sleeping issues began when your mother remarried. Two strangers moved into your childhood home one day, turning it from a quiet home into a rowdier one. Your stepfather, whose name was always on the tip of your tongue, had a son older than you. Leon– a name befitting the pride he carried and his commanding presence. He served in the Raccoon City Police Department, and beneath his police cap was a head of dirty blonde hair and a pair of strikingly cold blue eyes, like he had seen it all. A man in his late twenties, he possessed a slow temper and a mild demeanour. Though he had a bit of a mouth on him, especially when he missed breakfast.

Another thing you learnt about your br- stepbrother, was that he was quite a background character. Slipped in and out of the house without so much of a peep and returned when it was way past midnight. It was no wonder he had eyebags, you thought, since he crawled into bed at one or two. The two of you barely exchanged greetings, but it was always you who reached out first with a demure ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’ when you bumped into him in the hallways. Even then he’d barely grunt in acknowledgement.

It must have been awkward for him to have a little sister at this age, you often pondered. The feeling was mutual; you had never felt this awkward in your own home before. Your new family members were more like legal housemates, dozens of signed papers changed little about the fact that none of you were related by blood. This fact left an unpleasant taste in your mouth. However, your worries turned out to be for naught as your stepfather was deeply enamoured with your mother to look your way. And for your stepbrother… It was clear that he was avoiding you at all costs.

Things started to look up after an awkward encounter in the kitchen. That day you camped inside, determined to get your work done. Along with a heap of textbooks and research papers, you had a plate of sandwiches on the table. Your eyes fell on your paper and you tapped it with your pencil. You found yourself wondering about your relationship with your new sibling. Mama would be happy if you got along with him, but even she was having a hard time getting him to open up.

You prodded at the tiny fonts on the papers. Leon was almost a decade older… and really attractive. Totally your type, if only you weren’t bound by the same family name. You held your head in your hands and groaned outwardly. Oh boy, you were sure to be punished for your sinful thoughts. Like it or not, you were a Kennedy now. And that meant no room for entertaining nonsensical daydreams.

“I’m home,” a voice called out. Speak of the devil. You looked up as he shuffled into the kitchen, a single gloved hand making quick work of loosening his tie. His sky blue uniform hugged his wide chest whilst his sleeves clung desperately to his broad shoulders. Meanwhile his slacks… let’s just say his imprint could tempt even the most modest of church goers. The golden badge pinned at his breast glinted in as he sauntered past you.

The cop took you in from his peripheral. You sat cross legged on a chair in an oversized shirt, the hem of the baggy tee draped over your mid thighs. He narrowed his eyes. Where were your shorts? But he brushed away that thought when you cleared your throat.

You held out a sandwich, eyes struggling to meet his. In this moment you resembled a petrified hamster. “Um, welcome home. Want one?”

When he kept his silence, you showed him the insides between the slices of bread. “It’s just ham and cheese. You’re not allergic, are you?”

The blonde stared at you incredulously. What was with the nauseating domesticity of the situation? Leon exhaled a breath. He had half the mind to leave but your hopeful eyes demanded a response. Why were you so desperate to talk to him? He already felt bad for ignoring you during your random encounters, but now that you gave him no choice…

He raised his brows. You should be feeling as awkward as he was, if not more. He was a complete stranger who started legally living next door with only a thin wall to separate the two of you at night. But he forced a half-smile as he took your peace offering.

“Thanks,” he took a bite while you watched attentively. He held your gaze for an entire second before you shyly lowered your head. Were you expecting a compliment or something? Maybe you were more interesting than he’d thought.

Amused, he walked out of the kitchen whilst you watched owlishly. His footsteps thudded up the stairs and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You smiled to yourself, slumping in your seat. That went well. With your spirits boosted, you continued studying.

For your brother, he had a hard time coming to terms with his father’s remarriage. It had been years since the death of his mother, and he figured he’d more or less come to terms with her departure. As a child, he had long known his father would remarry, and now the time had finally come. However, now that he was an adult, he questioned his father’s decisions to remarry. Why now? He wished he knew. It would’ve been easier on Leon if his new siblings were little kids, in fact he expected it until he was faced with the reality of your existence.

You were pretty, really pretty and cute and all lovely things. Like an angelic cherub, a gift from the heavens that deserved nothing but love and joy. Unlike a brother like him, who often imagined what it’d be like to feel your lips against his. A brother that imagined what your touch felt, and if you’d be so kind to let him explore your body with wandering hands and an eager tongue.

He was sure to burn in the lake of fire for this. He acknowledged that but failed to curb his fantasies that he’d always circle back to whenever he caught a whiff of your shampoo in the hallways when you passed him. Or the lingering scent of your skincare in the bathroom when he returned home from work. And the faint humming he heard from his window in the mornings.

Maybe if he’d have a taste. Just once– maybe he could finally detach himself from you. Better yet, move out and you’d never have to see him again. (He never wanted to live with his old man and new family to begin with after all.) But he knew it was all a pipe dream; you’d never let him push his luck. Not when you were so clueless in his presence, wearing only oversized shirts and panties, as if he couldn’t catch a glimpse whenever you reached for a cup in the cupboards or when you pranced up the stairs. It was worrisome. Did you not see him as a man? Was he really just a brother figure to you? He was relieved but conflicted. If only you were much younger, then he wouldn't have to waste braincells foaming over this predicament.

A knock on his door yanked him out of his thoughts. He lifted his brows. There was only one person who bothered to knock in this household. The door creaked open to reveal you, standing at the doorway. In your hand was a plate with sandwiches piled onto one another, much like the one on the kitchen table. You scratched your ankle with a foot awkwardly.

“Erm,” you started. A sheepish grin settled on your face. “Peace offering?”

He managed a chuckle and prompted you into the room. You set the plate on the table as he patted your head fondly. You peered up at him with one eye as he mussed up your hair.

“There’s no beef between us, silly.” He smiled gently. You swallowed nervously and smiled back. Then you left as quickly as you came, a metaphorical tail between your legs as you hurriedly closed the door behind you.

Yup, he had to be mature. A mature older brother figure. He mused to himself as he sat on his bed, a sandwich in hand.

. . .

Overtime, your sleeping habits worsened. Despite your growing relationship with Leon, there was no improvement in your sleeping patterns. You still came home early and followed through with your usual bedtime routine. Nothing was amiss, but you still struggled to sleep properly.

Perhaps it had to do with how you constantly awoke at the sound of Leon’s boots thudding on the stairs. At the creaking of his door and the hushed volume he spoke in when he bumped into your parents in the hallway. Your heart always thumped at the thought of the blonde being one wall away from you. Months had passed and it was still awkward. A man was on the other side of a single wall. So you took matters into your own hands.

“Sleeping pills? What for?” Your mother peered at you curiously. Everyone, including your step family, sat in the living room watching the telly. Remote in hand, she was searching for a show when she stopped on a psychologist’s podcast.

Something about incestual relationships and how it was connected to trauma. Something something a cycle of brokenness. She switched it to a sports commentary instead.

“Um, recent stuff has disrupted my sleep a little.” It wasn’t a little and it wasn’t that recent, but you weren’t exactly lying. “I’ve tried candles and white noise, but it doesn’t help. So I was wondering if you could get me some.”

Your mother worked at a pharmacy, so it should have been easy enough. She scratched the bottom of her chin and scrunched her brows thoughtfully. Uh oh. You sighed knowingly as she shook her head.

“Pills should be a last resort. Try meditation, maybe.”

She returned her attention to the screen, and you shook your head in disappointment. As you begrudgingly scaled up the stairs, you were stopped by your step brother. He stood at the base of the stairs as he called out to you.

“Hey. I overheard about your sleeping problems. I have some extra pills I can share if you’d like.” He leaned against the railing, arms crossed.

His eyes were focused on yours, but when you hopped down the stairs, they shifted to the bouncing of your chest. You smiled as you stood at eye level with him, unknowing of this as you placed your arms behind your back.

“Really? That’ll be great help,” your relief was palpable in your tone. But then you raised a single eyebrow, “Um- but you’re not gonna tell mom, are you?”

He chuckled, “No way. It’s our little secret.”

You giggled and followed him into his room, where he passed you a little bottle, half full of pills. What you didn’t know was just how strong they were.

You clutched your comforter in your hand and swallowed nervously. The eye bags around your eyes had gotten worse lately, but not to worry. You glanced at the bottle on your bedside table. With these, everything would be fine. Right? Besides, it was comforting to know that somebody cared enough to help. And now your step brother was in on the secret with you.

As your lashes fluttered close, your bedroom door creaked open painfully slow. A pair of blue eyes watched you curiously as your consciousness faded.

Leon knew he was the worst. Knew he shouldn’t be here in his little sister’s room, shouldn’t be kneeling over her body, arms caging her unconscious body on either side. The mattress dipped further into the bedframe no thanks to his added weight. Under other circumstances, you would have awoken from the gentle bouncing if you weren’t so deep in sleep.

The tips of his silky blonde hair brushed against your cheeks as he hovered over your lips. Your chest rose slowly as you exhaled through slightly parted lips, tickling his face as he pressed a thumb on your bottom lip to part them further. You exhaled softly. Pretty. So soft and pink. His padded thumb stroked your lips as his mind wandered.

How oblivious could you be in your sleep? How much could he push?

As he ruminated over his options, you shifted in your sleep with a low groan. You murmured incoherently with a grip on your comforter. With a huff, you tried to pull it over your chest. When it refused to budge– thanks to the weight of his body– you groaned and pulled harder. As quietly as possible, he hopped off your bed and you yanked the comforter over you. A contented sigh of relief followed as you snuggled under the weight of your comforter.

Guilt sizzled his flesh and his face was hot with shame. What did he just try to pull? As a law abiding citizen and police officer, he shouldn’t be–

“...eon.” He stiffened at your sleep talk. His blue eyes shifted to your curled up form. Your face was mushed against your pillow, face scrunched up.

“Not there… Stop… Mmf,” you groaned as you buried your face deeper into your pillow. A steady snore ensued, and he almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he had just witnessed.

So it wasn’t just him. He was glad to know you shared the same sentiments as him. Be it small or large, a little shared sentiment was all he needed. Now he could dispose of the guilt eating him away for the past months. He slipped out of your room quietly, closing the door behind him as softly as when he entered.

The pills helped you get much needed sleep. In fact, you felt better than usual. You could focus better in class, your feet carried you further than usual, and besides the strange aching and marks on your body parts from time to time, you were feeling better than ever. You had to thank your step brother for it. Despite his presence being the reason for your sleep depravity, the pills he gave you worked wonders. Soon you would run out, and that meant you'd have to ask him for more. You considered taking some tonight, but you had a long day at school and the exhaustion led you to crawl into bed without reaching for the familiar bottle on your bedside.

Things were going swimmingly with your new family. And sure, even though you were still coming to terms with the eye candy on the other side of the wall– and how you had to calm your heart when you stood in the same room– everything was just peachy. Your lashes fluttered close as a smile settled on your face. Your heart was full, and there was nothing you could wish for to be happier.

Creaking floorboards prompted you to crack open your eyes. Your vision swirled in the darkness and you saw a silhouette of a man. Broad shoulders, big arms… Wait, was that Leon? You tried to speak, but your body was paralysed with exhaustion. Something about how he was steadily approaching you was odd. And wait– why was he in your room? What time was it even?

It was night, you knew that from the moonlight’s hues that your room was bathed in. But how long did you sleep? It felt like you had only closed your eyes for a mere second. Your step brother stopped at the foot of your bed, and through your hazy vision, you stared at him.

The cop’s pupils dilated in the darkness, enough to see your unmoving form on bed. But he failed to notice your half lidded gaze. He sat on the edge of your bed, facing you as he stared. Stared at you for a long, quiet minute. There were no words to describe the awkward tension hanging in the air, a thick cloud that threatened to suffocate you as you inhaled shallowly.

He got up and you managed a quiet exhale. He was going to leave you in peace. That’s what you thought, but when he sidled up closer as your comforter crumpled under him, you held your breath. Now you really had to play dead, hoping that he’d leave the moment he made sure you were really asleep. Just like when in the face of a bear, except unlike one, he was intent to follow through with his plans.

The cop’s hand traced over the outline of your figure, snaking down from your shoulder to the dip in your side, and eventually resting atop of your hip. You prayed that he would neither feel your body trembling nor hear the shaky breaths racking your frame. His hand pulled over the comforter, and cold air swept across your body. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on the back of your neck, and the pillow felt wet under your head.

Your body remained unresponsive as his deft fingers traced the swell of your chest through your tee. A whimper threatened to escape your throat as he stroked the soft curves of your breasts. His thumb found your nipple and he stroked it languidly. He chuckled softly, almost fondly, as it hardened from his ministrations. The lump in your throat grew with each second as he fiddled with your body.

Strangely enough you felt nothing. No fear or anger for him. Your mind was blank, struggling to process the implications of his actions. However your body was honest, and your nipple hardened painfully from each flick and twist he teased it with.

Then you could finally move. But as if you were possessed, your body twitched and one leg kicked out by reflex. It nailed him in the side, and he cursed quietly at your outburst. He stared expectantly, waiting for you to scream for help. But no sound escaped you, and you remained motionless in bed once again. He chalked it up to you freaking out in a dream, and he retreated after carefully covering you with your comforter. You watched with fully lidded eyes as he closed the door behind him. When it shut, you inhaled a painful gulp of air.

. . .

You couldn’t sleep properly again after that night. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots and figure out the blonde was probably paying you visits after dark, which perfectly explained the uncharacteristic body aches and marks you’d find the next day. The fear of your brother entering your room again and staring at you in the dark compelled you to flush the remaining pills down the toilet. He caught you tossing the bottle away and when confronted about it, you forced out a lie. Lying was always a last resort because it made you feel filthy. And now your childhood home– your safe place– was tainted too.

Mother deserved to know the truth about her husband’s son. But she was happy with her new family, especially pleased that things were going well between her two children. You lacked the heart to break the news to her. She was finally happy after grieving over her loss. So you ran away from home, leaving behind everything except your school materials and some clothes. With a note for your mom, you left your family behind.

A silly note that was detached from reality. Something about how you wanted to chase your dreams like everybody else. That you were sorry for abandoning her. Pitiful lies, but you hoped your mother cared enough to let you do as you wished. And she did despite her concerns.

An entire month passed in a flash. Bunking in with a friend of yours, you took on a part time job to sustain you. Life was easier when you weren’t juggling work, school and the fear of being found by your family. You had everyone blocked on your phone the moment you ran away, and you managed to evade the police car waiting outside campus everyday. Until one unfortunate night.

Working at a bar meant two things. One: you reeked of deathly concoctions from booze. The smell emanating from you was enough to knock out even the hardiest of drinkers. And two: travelling alone after dark. You still held your mother’s words close to your heart, but if it weren’t for your cursed step brother you wouldn’t have to traverse dark streets in the quiet of night. Your friend’s neighbourhood was far from the bus stop on the main road, so you had to grope in the dark for at least ten minutes before reaching their place. If only you had a bike, or something. A worthy investment you could use right now.

Tires screeched behind you and you whipped around to see a car rapidly approaching. A pair of lights blinded you and you shielded your eyes with your arms before the car halted to a stop. The heavy slam of a door encouraged you to pry your eyes open, vision twinkling with coloured orbs as you tried to focus on the approaching figure.

“I’ve been looking all over for you–” your blood curdled at the sound of a low voice. The sound of your step brother’s voice. “–I was worried sick.”

It felt like cotton was shoved down your throat and you swallowed painfully. When your vision cleared, you made out a man in a familiar blue uniform. Blonde hair and a pair of piercingly cold blue eyes. It was certainly Leon– and your bottom lip trembled.

Your brother’s eyes were wide like yours, but while anger blazed in his eyes, yours were wide with fear and anticipation. It was clear you were going to go home. With your stepbrother. The thought lit your body with a feverish heat, and you willed your feet to move– to run and escape even if it was futile. But your feet disobeyed and you stood frozen like a stone statue. The man stood sickeningly close, hands clutching either side of your arms.

He was in your face, warm breath fanning your sweat drenched face. His thick brows knitted as he frowned. “Why’d you run away? Mom may have bought your story, but I didn’t.”

So he wanted to know the truth? You maintained your silence with pursed lips. With your face illuminated by the light from his police car, he scrutinised your features. You looked like hell, with deeply set eyebags and a sickly complexion. Goodness, what has happened to you the past month? And why did you look so frightened of him? The blonde wasn’t stupid, he could piece things faster than most. He had long suspected you found him out, that you somehow knew about his nightly visits, or maybe he was right about your suspicions and you were awake that night.

But he had to hear it from you yourself. Why? Because he never succeeded in throwing away that guilt he claimed he would. It had festered like a flesh wound, and his innocent memories with you served as maggots that ate him away as he fought against his carnal desires and his growing affection for you. He knew it was all his fault– he started this mess and maybe your open disapproval would finally put an end to his twisted desires.

So he needed you to tell him off. To scream and shout, let it all out in his face. Leon was selfish, he wanted you to get mad at him. He clenched his jaw and shook you. The force rattled your entire figure and you bit back a sob. He practically repelled back, like oil on water, the moment fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

You buried your face in your hands and he watched in horror. An uncomfortable itch ran down his side– he didn’t know what to do. Endlessly bawling on the streets would not resolve anything. So he yanked you into the passenger seat of the car and drove off.

He parked the car on the side of a quiet road, hands on the steering wheel as he gazed at you from his peripheral. The engine was on, a quiet whirr as the aircon nipped at your tear stained face. You shook like a newborn fawn, and you hung your head and faced your body towards the door. He couldn’t read your facial expression, but it was clear that you wanted out. If only the doors weren’t locked, huh?

Leon drummed his fingers on the wheel. A rhythmic beat that led to nowhere, a consistent tempo that was interrupted by a sneeze or so from you. He planned to bring you home, but maybe the next day, when you were in a better state. So he drove and drove until he found a roadside motel in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for the two of you to work things out. He ordered you to wait in the car as he filled out the paperwork, and after securing a room, he escorted you into your lodging for the night.

Besides practically manhandling you into the place, he was gentle as he stripped you of your clothes. You let him because your head was too muddled with exhaustion to retaliate. Even when his eyes hovered over your naked body, you paid no mind to it. The two of you stood in the shower, underneath a steady stream of warm water. The blonde’s arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in the space between your neck and the curve of your collarbone. He pressed a tender kiss onto your skin, and he gently tilted your head for more excess. Leon’s canines dragged across your flushed skin in an open mouthed kiss, his hand snaked down your navel and-

You snapped out of your daze and pushed him off you. Your feet splashed water onto the walls as your back hit the corner of the shower. Hair was matted against your face as your chest heaved. Vapour swirled in the small cubicle, twirling around the both of you as water pattered onto the bathroom tiles. With your arms wrapped around your body, you squeezed yourself into the corner– hoping to disappear.

You remembered who you were, where you were, and who it was that stood across you. The reason why you had trouble sleeping, and the reason why you ran away from home. Like a kicked puppy, you stared wearily at your nightmare incarnate. Your step brother, who you should be in neither a shower nor motel with. Far from home and far from anyone who would save you.

“You’re scared-” he whispered the obvious. You flinched as he took a step forward. There was a curious brokenness in his tone, like he was hurting as much as you were. “I get it, really. But there’s something you should know.”

His slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, a bruising grip as he forcefully placed your hand onto his muscular chest. An irregular rhythm thumped behind its confines, pulsing against your soaked fingertips. You met his eyes, which carried an uncharacteristic warmth behind them.

“I’m scared too.”

Leon wasn’t lying, he was truly afraid. Afraid that you would run away again and leave him behind. It took him an entire month to finally find you, he risked his job stationing his department’s car on campus everyday just for you. His job meant little to him compared to you, whom he’d grown to desperately care for. Even with his twisted desires, he didn’t want you to be afraid of him. Not like this, at least.

He closed the distance slowly, and you shut your eyes as a pair of lips slotted againsts yours. His lips glided against yours, lubricated from the stream descending upon you two. His hand found purchase on your waist and he pulled you closer, and you shivered– despite the nauseating warmth in the shower– when he ghosted his fingers on the small of your back. Your legs wobbled, weak from his melting kisses and searing touch, and you placed your hands on his chest for stability.

The fight in your body sizzled away, conjoining with the droplets that cascaded down the tips of your hair to fall onto the tiles. They slithered into the drain, never to return. Your lips swelled with anticipation as he smothered you with kiss after kiss, and your cheeks tingled with warmth from the lack of air when your tongues danced in an unruly tango. He was taking your breath away, and your fingers dug into his chest, nails branding red crescents into the flesh of his pecs.

When you broke away for air, strings of saliva hung from your lips to his. His gaze mirrored yours; pupils dilated and clouded with need. His hand dipped south, padded fingers dragging down your navel again when you clutched his wrist. He knitted his brows, confused.

“We shouldn’t do this…” you rasped, uncertainty laced in your voice. “We’re siblings.”

With a weak push, you tried to push his hand away. But he snatched your wrists and pinned them above your head as you gasped. In your tunnel vision, all you could see was the lopsided smirk on his handsome face.

“Siblings?” You jumped when he spread your folds with his digits. His thumb found your clit and he prodded at it with a blunt nail. “We may be siblings on paper, but we both know that we share no blood.”

Leon was right, in reality you were just a woman and he was a man. Strangers who shared nothing but a legal last name. A digit pressed against your tight entrance, and he watched you with a hooded gaze as he slowly slid it in. Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, lashes fluttering and brows knitted. The stretch was intruding, and he had only the first segment of his finger in when you whimpered painfully. He massaged your pearl with his thumb and shushed you with his lips. He soothed the bundle of your nerves in a circular motion as he pushed his finger further into you. Your entire body trembled when he added another finger.

You were falling apart before him, and he was enjoying every second of it. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he watched your expression contort whilst he scissored and fondled your insides with his digits. Your knees were bowed, thighs trembling like a newborn lamb. You bit your lip to quieten your moans. Leon knew how to use his fingers better than you did, and the loud squelching of your wetness was proof of his expertise.

A familiar ache throbbed in you, and you squirmed against his hold while arching your back. Your stepbrother chuckled lowly, hints of pearly white showing as he smiled.

“See? Even if we were actually siblings, your body would still beg for me to make you cum. Just like this.”

His thumb applied just the right amount of pressure onto your clit and you squealed with pleasure. Your thighs pressed together, squeezing the hand between them as your walls fluttered around him. The man released your wrists so that you could cling onto him as you came hard, face buried in his chest as your body jolted against his. When you calmed down, he retrieved his fingers, eliciting a whine from the new emptiness.. He showed you his hand, where an embarrassing amount of cum dribbled down his fingers and knuckles.

“Say ‘ahh’,” he ordered, fingers hovering above your lips. You could smell it before you tasted it; a salty scent clung to your translucent fluid dripping down his appendages. Lips parted, you took his fingers in and suckled on them. With your eyes fixated on him, you blushed from his hum of approval.

“Good girl. C’mon,” he withdrew his fingers and you stared blankly. “Turn around and spread that ass for me.”

You did as you were told, leaning forward and placing a hand on the wall. With condensation smushed against that palm, you used your other hand to hold one cheek to spread yourself open. He swallowed thickly as he pumped himself weakly. His length stood at full height, curving upwards with all his veins popping angrily. His balls throbbed from the sight. You knew how to rile him up without even trying.

Leon’s fingers rested on your puckered hole, making you shiver. You cast him a glance over your shoulder, a begging look– did you not want it there? Shame, maybe next time. You audibly sighed when he lined himself up against your sticky slit, and you placed both hands on the wall to steady yourself, standing on tippy toes as he slowly sheathed himself into you. He drove himself into you slowly, and you unconsciously bent your knees as you were pushed forward.

A low moan filled the bathroom whilst Leon hissed as he clutched your waist. Something trickled down his length and gathered at his base. Something red. A small blob fell and landed on the wet floor before being swept away. He raised his brows.

“Fuck- I’m your first?” He laughed in disbelief as the thin streak of blood split into two. Another droplet fell and you looked down at the tiles too, head still cottony to process anything.

“Don’t worry,” he took your arms and pulled them back. As the blonde forcefully arched your back, he leaned in and smirked against your ear. “Your step bro will show you the ropes in pleasing a man.”

Leon thrusted into you and you gasped from the fullness. Your belly swelled from the depth of his intrusion, and you whimpered as he pounded into you at a steady yet unforgiving pace. His pelvis smashed against your plush rear, and you moaned from the incessant slapping of his balls against your puffy lips. Your eyes were almost lidded, a string of drool snaked down your chin as your insides stroked his dick with a vice grip.

You couldn’t think of anything but the intoxicating fullness within you. Feeling it all was overwhelming; the ridges of his cock, his throbbing veins as they rubbed against your gumminess, and the hot tip of his cock as it kissed your cervix. Your eyes rolled back when he jammed into a particular spot. This was surely heaven– and you mewled against his hold, upper body squirming.

The blonde clenched his jaw, eyes hyper fixated on the pretty jiggle of your ass. He was so close, just a bit more and he’d pour everything out into you. You milked him better than any woman did, and the urge to empty all his worth into you clouded his head despite the blaring of sirens in his cotton filled head. With a grunt, he wrapped his arm around your neck in a chokehold, pulling you back towards him. His chest was flushed against your back as you arched deliciously, the bottom of your spine throbbed in protest as he snapped his hips harder. Gurgled moans were choked out from you as he pistoned into you with the reckless desire to breed.

“‘M gunna cum. Hff- Say you need it. Tell me you want it..!” He babbled as his forearm contracted, tightening his hold on your delicate neck. You feebly clawed at it, broken noises fell from your lips whilst your lips faded from pink blue. When he finally came, he pressed his pelvis flushed against your ass as you leaned into the bathroom wall.

He slathered you with thick ropes of cum, and you whimpered at the strange warmth flooding you. When he pulled out, his cock hung limply between his legs as a streak of white oozed out of you. A bead of cum oozed on his tip, and you weakly clutched the wall with shivering hands.

Your laboured breaths were muted noises in the presence of the incessant hissing of the shower. He turned the damn thing off and after toweling the both of you dry, he led you to bed. Goosebumps crawled along your skin from the cold air, but the warmth from his body pressing you into the mattress comforted you. His arms caged you in on either side while your hands wandered along his muscular chest. Scars littered across body, and each time your fingers traced them, he’d flinch. Your nails ghosted over an aged bullet wound when he pulled away from your face. More strings bridged your lips together.

“So pretty,” he muttered. He nuzzled his face into your chest, voice rumbling against your skin. “All mine.”

“Yeah,” you carded your fingers through his damp hair. Your lashes fluttered sleepily, the strange warmth within you growing as you smiled.

“All yours.”

(BONUS)

“I’m so glad Leon found you.” Mom’s voice echoed in the motel room. It was a voicemail, and if it were a live call, you wouldn’t have your trembling legs over your step brother's broad shoulders. Well, you wouldn’t but he would.

“I was worried sick, my dear. When you return today, I’ll have your favourite meal waiting on the table. Like before-”

You bit the back of your hand, hard enough to draw blood as your toes curled. Your other hand was in the sea of his tousled blonde tresses, fingers gripping his locks as you ground yourself against his face. The tip of his nose bumped against your swollen clit, eliciting a muffled whine.

“Leon,” you panted against your hand, lashes fluttering. “Stop teasing and just put it in already!”

Your thighs squeezed his head together, and he clamped his hands on them to pry your legs further open. The blonde buried his tongue deeper into your weeping cunt, languidly swirling his and your essence together into one. A cry rang in the motel room as your mother’s voice was overlaid by the static buzzing in your ears and his voice.

“Patience is a virtue. Didn’t your mom teach you that?” He chuckled as your thighs twitched in his grasp. He licked a teasing stripe against your slit.

“Don’t bring mom into this,” you frowned, but another lick elicited another squeal. The familiar haze in your head was waiting to consume you, and you let yourself fall victim to it as you gripped his hair again.

When he pulled away, you whimpered pathetically and gazed at him through heavy lashes. Your eyes were clouded with need, and he stroked your cheek with his knuckles with an amused chuckle. He kissed you– and you tasted your stickiness while soothing his swollen lips with your tongue.

“-Anyway, I’ll see you later. I’m so happy you’re finally coming home. See you tonight!” The voice call ended with a beep and you breathed a huge sigh of relief. Your eyes fluttered close, when the mattress dipped as he pushed you onto your back. You opened them blearily to meet his blue eyes, where desire and passion swirled deeply.

“Feeling sleepy? Don’t fall asleep on me now… Cause your step bro is gonna take good care of you.”

all content written by @cherubify ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open. previously known as @puppyina.

#lord have merthy #leon kennedy #re4 leon #leon smut

[localkiss]

😧

*gulp* HELLOOOOO IM !! AH!! 😵‍💫THIS IS WHAT I WANT AND NEED IN LIFEEE 😔🙏🏻 di leon... hmu...i need u so baddd baba gurl...

Little Problem

(cw: dark content mdni, dubcon, ddlg, forced kinks, use of petnames, no use of y/n, di!leon, reader is over the age of 20, p in v, use of profanity, leon with a daddy kink, afab reader, possessive behavior, degrading, slapping, size kink if you squint, mentions of baby-trapping)

“Do you need help with that, baby?” The juice box you were struggling with is suddenly snatched from your hands, a loving kiss pressed to your hair as Leon sets it back onto the pink wooden table. You can only grit your teeth and smile as you thank him, biting the plastic straw as you sip the sweet drink.

It was only meant to be an experiment, explore new horizons with each other. Now it’s become a part of your daily life, and you fucking hate it. What went from wearing simple dresses and having Leon help you out with mundane tasks turned into him baby-proofing your entire house. He packed all of your old clothes into boxes and buried them deep in the basement, turning your wardrobe into some sick dress up game. He doesn’t even let you bathe on your own anymore. ‘What if the water is too hot? What if you drown?’

You unfortunately can’t do anything but cooperate; you see how happy it makes him—how it gives him a sense of control again after everything he’s been through. You would feel like an asshole if you took the one thing that makes him happy away from him. But what about your needs? You would give anything to not have to sleep on those itchy pink sheets again, to take a real shower and not a bubble bath filled with an excessive amount of bubblegum-scented bathbombs.

“Do you need anything from Daddy before he leaves?” He coos, caressing your hair and twirling one of your pigtails around his thick fingers. Your scalp aches from the tight hairstyle, the clips and bows digging into your tender skin. You shake your head no, the yellow crayon in your fist threatening to snap with your tight grip, the wax shavings resting on top of the sun drawing in the corner.

“Use your words, princess.” Leon repeats, kneeling down to observe the picture you’ve been coloring. A soft chuckle vibrates his chest as he slides it over to himself, his eyes scanning the messy job with amusement.

“No, daddy.” You sigh softly, hoping it goes unnoticed by him as you slide the crayon back into the box. To think you were just earning your master’s degree in psychology a year ago, now reduced to playing dollhouse.

“Good girl. Your lunch is in your cubby. Daddy loves you.” He turns your head to plant a kiss on your lips. If one thing hasn’t changed, it’s the way he still loves you like a partner.

“I love you too, daddy.” You mumble, gritting your teeth as you turn back to the coloring book, beginning on the large unicorn in the middle of the page. As soon as you hear the door shut, it’s like you can breathe again. The sound of the cable cartoons play faintly on the television, Leon had cancelled every other channel that could potentially be ‘inappropriate for his baby’.

You can’t take it anymore—the coloring, the frilly clothes, the tasteless food cut into pieces worthy of a hamster. You want your life back. You need your life back.

You absentmindedly pick at the lifting Powerpuff Girl sticker stuck to the leg of the table. The corners are worn, the pink paint beginning to chip from the constant use. Hundreds of thoughts circle your head as you weigh out your options. You can either stay here and wait for Leon to come home… Or go down to the basement.

You get up from the small pink table, walking past the miniature play kitchen, the set of pastel-colored cubbies filled with toys, and your supposed ‘lunch.’ As you approach the basement door, it’s almost like you can hear his voice. “Behave while Daddy’s gone, Pumpkin.”

The thoughts are quickly shaken as you imagine what it’s going to feel like once you finally get out of this dress, finally feeling like yourself again.

You had to dig to find the box, the top of which was covered with a layer of paper dust and sealed with tape. The feeling was terrifying—the constant reminder in the back of your mind that you would be fucked if you got caught.

The feeling of jeans is completely foreign to you now, almost like a newborn touching grass. Your old jeans, sweaters, and even your socks. Every old picture, every pair of shoes, everything. The first thing you try on is a pair of jeans, which are much looser than you remember them to be. No surprise there; you’ve been living off of juice and animal crackers for a year.

You must have lost track of time with how many boxes of your things you had gone through; the sound of heavy thuds echo from above. You look around the basement in a panic, countless articles of clothing and shoes scattered across the floor. With Leon home, there’s no way you can pack all of this up again without getting caught.

“Where are you, babydoll?” You can hear his footsteps getting closer to the basement door, his tone growing more concerned as you’re nowhere to be seen. A shadow is cast upon the stairs as Leon’s voice grows in volume and the steps leading down to the basement begin to creak.

“You down here, baby? I told you, you can’t come down here when Daddy isn’t home–” He stops in his tracks at the sight of you, his brows furrowing at the sight of your dress on the floor. You were scrambling to put the boxes back, nearly falling off the ladder as Leon came into view.

As you slowly descend from the stepladder, Leon’s eyes follow your every move. There’s a mix of confusion and disbelief written on his face; his forehead lines more apparent as he crouches down to pick up the dress. The satin had snagged on a rusty nail protruding from the floor, the lace trim having grey smudges from gathering the soot and dust.

“Can you put this back on for Daddy, sweetie?” He holds it out for you to take, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with each second you stand still. The silence is deafening, the only audible noise being the dim light bulb buzzing and flickering above you. He nudges it at you once more, his gaze almost growing darker as he takes a step forward.

Your body is rigid; his brooding presence renders you unable to move. You’re scared to even breathe wrong. But you can’t pussy out now, not after knowing what it’s like to be in control of yourself again. Shaking your head, you swear you can almost hear a cracking noise with how stiff you are.

“I’m going to count to three.” He grunts, his teeth gritting and grinding against each other. After a year of constantly micromanaging you, tending to your ‘needs’ at every second of every day, seeing you be independent was almost disturbing. His eyes are pleading, as if telling you not to do this, as he desperately holds onto the small power he may still have over you.

“One.”

You stay unmoving, your heart beating in your ears as your eyes flick from the dress in his hand to his face.

“Two.”

Leon pauses, as if giving you a chance to turn back. To go back to how things were, go back to watching those cartoons. Drawing him a picture worthy of putting on the fridge and eating out of that tin lunchbox.

“Three.”

He sighs, his eyes never leaving you as he tosses the dress onto the table. Your lips part, breathing through your mouth as if trying to take more oxygen into your lungs. The atmosphere is suffocating, neither moving nor speaking.

Leon’s eyes flicker with bewilderment as his hand kneads, and feels his cock bulging from your stomach, rutting into you as his fingers squeeze your throat. How long has it been? Thirty minutes? An hour? Who knows. But your mind has long been scrambled into mush.

Shit, he’s got you counting the sheep on the television, a nursery rhyme playing faintly as it accompanies the grotesque squelching of his cock burrowing into you. Your nails claw at his biceps, scratching at the fabric of his suit from the mixed stinging and satisfaction that accompanies his cock.

“…Harder– Fuck, please..” You groan, your eyes rolling back as your jaw goes slack. His hand leaves your stomach to smack your tits, his thrusts growing rougher while simultaneously stinging even more.

“No swearing, princess.” Leon huffs, a certain sarcasm in his tone. His fingers dig into your sides, grabbing at the fat greedily as he admires how pliable your flesh is. A snarky grin forms on his face as his tip hits your cervix, your face contorting in discomfort as you squirm.

“Damn brat… You don’t deserve all the shit I do for you. Been takin’ care of you, and this is how you treat me? Huh?” He grunts, shuddering, as you flutter around him. He grimaces as he looks at your face, hating the way it makes him feel. Hating how much it makes him want to shove his cock between those pretty little lips of yours. He grips your jaw in his hand, squeezing until your lips pucker and you have a stupid expression on your face.

He lets go after a minute, a low groan resonating in his throat as he buries himself deep into your sopping cunt, painting your insides with his seed. You’re never leaving. He’ll get you pregnant a hundred times over until you’re too loose to even take him anymore.

Your back arches off the floor, your fingers ripping up the carpet as you begin to pant. A surge of bliss wracks your body as your legs tremble and shake, another painful slap delivered to your chest. Your tits jiggling as they spill out of the wrinkled dress.

“Dirty fucking slut, cummin’ all over me like this..” He stares down at your face, resentment cursing his features before he softens. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Now go get in the bath. Daddy’ll put extra bubbles in there for you.”

#he's so daddy #can I.... #*gulp* #di leon #death island leon #leon smut