#kidnapper leon kennedy

[sickophantic]

𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing. stalker!leon / afab! reader

warnings. stalking, kidnapping, noncon, probably other stuff but idkk, read at your own risk

word count. 4,644

note. i like, haven't written anything for ummm half a year,, but i'm super excited about this fic!! started it almost two months ago and i finally finished it :33

Poor baby, haven’t been taking care of yourself for weeks; haven’t been eating or sleeping and barely going out for groceries, always staying inside except for work, leaving the house early in the morning and returning home at 2 a.m. Poor girl’s been coming back so late just for a shower, a quick, shitty dinner or a cup of tea, and after that straight to bed, day after day after day. And of course, Leon noticed what it was doing to you immediately: your sunken eyes from the late hours and the graveyard shifts, the dull skin from all your forgotten skincare, God, all those products collecting dust in your little bathroom, and the way your flesh was starting to cling to your bones, oh you poor thing. He couldn’t have that happen to his angel, absolutely not.

Sitting on the bed, watching you, something broke in him every time he saw you all teary eyed and tired, scrolling through your phone, looking through all your contacts. It’d happen almost nightly, after work and after a shower, all of you but your face hidden in the cold cover of the darkness, your quivering lips and your matted eyelashes limned by the blue light of your phone, your finger hovering over your friends’ numbers as you debated with yourself. He’d see the way your brow furrowed as you weighed the risk of opening up to people who should care about you, but fuck if it actually felt like it. So you’d just sigh, suck in a breath, and set your phone on the bed table and fumble in the darkness to find its charger, before shutting your eyes, preparing for next day’s hell.

He’d watch you breathe for a little while, his own eyes intent on his screen, before he’d shut the app and set his phone down. It was like a nightly routine at this point. He’d come home from the R.P.D., and every day, his heart would soften when he’d check on you, watch you through the cameras he installed and see how lonely and apathetic and pathetic you were. Poor baby had no one. Just made it even more obvious how much you needed him.

When you’d skipped dinner for the third time that week, he decided enough was enough. He didn’t want to, of course he didn’t, but he’d have to take drastic measures. Just, take you away for a little bit. Temporary, of course. Just until you got your things together. He was helping you. You’d see that. That’s why today, he slipped into your apartment with a copied key and stirred something special into your tea.

Sweet thing came home late, rubbing your bleary eyes and yawning, throwing your keys somewhere by the door, slipping your coat off and heading to the kitchen, wanting to microwave your day-old tea. Waited thirty seconds for the microwave to beep. He watched on his phone as you put creamer and sugar in your tea and downed it quickly. You always liked things sweet. You took a shower and stumbled into bed, all sluggish and soft, falling asleep almost immediately. 

A few minutes later, the front door opened, letting in the dim, yellow light from the hallway and a pair of silent footsteps. He took his coat off, setting it gently on the rack, slipping his shoes off quietly before stealing into your room. His heart fluttered when he saw you, the only sound in the room your soft breathing and the only movement the light rises and falls of your chest.

He sat next to you on the bed, feeling the way the mattress dipped beneath him, and placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing small circles into your skin. He watched you for a while, resting his arm on your shoulder and gazing down at you, fingers playing with your hair or knuckles grazing across your face, before he smiled. He’d be good to you, real good. Treat you like a princess, just the way you deserved. No more stress, no more hard work. Just smile and look pretty. He wanted you so bad, fuck, even right now, but he promised himself to take it real soft, real slow, real sweet. Just for you, his perfect girl.

-

His heart almost stopped when he saw your eyes open, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. He’d been sitting on his bed, admiring your sleeping form, lightly rubbing small circles onto your cheeks with the backs of his knuckles, just like last night. Except, now you were really here, in his bed, with him. Made him want to kiss you and hold you and fuck you, all at once. Couldn’t do that yet, though. But God, he was so excited to see you, couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you, had to pull himself away from work cause he couldn’t get anything done, even made you breakfast in bed. But seeing your waking face not be that of immediate adoration, even though that’d be a little insane to ask for, broke his heart. Seeing your eyes widen and your brows furrow as your mind raced to explain where the hell you where and how this happened made his chest tighten with guilt. Poor baby. He’d make it better, make it all better, pinkie promise.

“Hi, hi.” He cooed, still caressing your cheek. Immediately, you flinched backwards, finally noticing him. But he kept going, keeping his voice quiet, low, like he was talking to a frightened, injured animal. “‘m Leon, okay? Don’t be afraid, just gonna take care of you, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to scream out, to cry for mercy, to beg to be let go, he couldn’t tell, but instead, with a small, cracked voice, you asked, “What?”

He moved his hand upwards, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your temple. He saw the way your eyes were glossing over and the way your eyebrows scrunched and the way your lips trembled beneath him and he felt so terrible for doing this to you but at the same time you looked so fucking pretty he wanted to do it over and over again. Shit. He didn’t mean to think that way, that was so mean. Didn’t mean to, not at all. It was an accident, honest. He sucked in a breath, realizing he’d been visibly hesitating for a few seconds. Remembering what he was trying to do, he reached behind him, grabbing a fork and a plate, still a little warm, bringing a piece up to your mouth. “Just wanna take care of you, baby.” He spoke softly, trying to hide all his earlier thoughts. “It's just French toast. Nothing else in it.” He promised.

You grimaced. "No."

He opened his mouth to try to reason with you, explain that he just made it and there really was nothing in it and you needed to eat, but he could tell you were scared. He swallowed, setting the plate aside. He scooted a little closer on the bed and kept talking, all soft and sweet, “Haven’t been looking after yourself for the past month, have you?” He asked. “Just wanna help you, angel. Don’t need anything in return. No work, no chores, nothing, okay?” He murmured.

He watched your face for a few seconds, expression twisting from panic to confusion to disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You whispered, all hissy and teary eyed and confused and scared. “Oh my God, what, you can’t, fuck, what are you talking about?” You repeated, almost incoherent.

He just shushed you gently, placing a thumb to your lips. “Shhh. I told you. 'm just gonna take care of you.” He cooed.

You squirmed uncomfortably beneath him, trying to escape out from under him only to have his wrap land around your throat, pressing lightly enough to hurt only a little but enough to warn you to stop squirming. He hated squirming. He felt bad, really bad for threatening his poor girl, but your reaction was starting to be a little frustrating. He sighed. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. Just gonna keep you here for a little, unless you wanna stay more,” he smiled. “Get you back on your feet, sweetheart.”

For some reason, you suddenly stilled. He noticed, and he also noticed the way your entire expression grew dazed, but he just kept on talking, almost rambling, enjoying your silence and your stillness, kept murmuring sweet nothings to you, his perfect, perfect girl. He was telling you how much he loved you and how long he’d been waiting to take you home and just how God damn excited he was when you interrupted him.

“I’m gonna,” you stuttered. “‘m gonna throw up.”

The sounds of your dry heaving over the empty toilet were the only sounds in that bathroom, echoing, bouncing off the walls. Sick, pitiful noises. Leon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as you gripped the sides of the toilet like your life depended on it, knuckles turned white from the pressure and the rest of your appearance disheveled. He knew what you were thinking, knew that you were panicking about the fact you’d never met him before and who the hell was he and Jesus was he a psycho? And was he in love with you? Oh God, what was he saying about you not taking care of yourself? Was he watching you? Must’ve been watching you, or how else would he know? He saw you wretch even harder. Nothing came out. He grimaced. 

“It’s not that bad, baby. Promise.” He said, approaching slowly. You were sobbing now, not even trying to vomit anymore. Not like you could, anyways. “C’mon,” he asked, tone dropping a little. Your chest rose and fell faster. Frightened little thing.

“Fuck,” you whispered, voice cracking, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he just kidnapped you or because nothing was coming up. You sat back from the toilet, crawling backwards into the corner farthest from Leon, mumbling, begging, crying something like go away go away please please please. You kept on repeating yourself, sometimes stopping to swallow and bringing a hand up to your chest or your throat because it hurt so bad or maybe you just couldn't breathe. He was trying to comfort you, let you know he wouldn’t hurt you and he loved you and it was okay and you were okay, but you just kept curling further in to yourself, crying now replacing the sounds of your dry heaving, face all red and eyes a little puffy and voice completely broken as you begged about something, but at this point you were just incoherent.

Leon stepped forward and you flinched back, and he let out a little sigh, leaning against the bathroom wall and staring at your poor, shivering form, brushing his hand through his hair, completely exasperated, and thinking What am I going to do with you?

- A few hours earlier, he was stirring coffee in the breakroom, absently glancing up at the television, when he recognized a familiar pair of tired eyes. Huh, he thought. He sipped his coffee as he watched your parents crying on live television, almost incoherent, recounting all the details he already knew about you. He felt a little pang in his heart, knowing that he took away these people's only child, only daughter, but it was for the best, wasn't it? He was taking such good care of you, and though you would never admit it, he could see the way you were slowly brightening up, the way life was returning to your drained body. He was doing a good thing. He was a good person.

Now, a little later, with keys jingling in his finger, he whistled softly, listening to the small click as the door unlocked and he slipped inside quietly. It’d been about two weeks since he’d… kidnapped? you. He wouldn’t say kidnapped, maybe taken instead. It’d been two weeks since he’d taken you. Sounds a little better. He pulled his shoes off by the door, debating whether or not to call out to you that he was home. It was dark already, so you were probably hiding, shivering under his blankets and clutching that little bear he’d bought you, as if that’d stop him from finding you. He sighed a little. This was taking longer than he thought it would. Would’ve thought you’d have at least warmed up to him by this point.

There were only two lights on, one above him and the other a little farther away by the dining table, leaving the rest of the room in a semi-darkness. He saw your half eaten bowl on the kitchen counter. He yawned, setting his coat on the rack and slipping his keys into his back pocket. He’d have to hide them later. Remembering an earlier text from Chris, he leaned against the wall, taking out his phone to check his messages. He watched the loading sign, watched it swirl and swirl and swirl around nothing. Finally loaded. He tapped on Chris’s icon and skimmed something about a work party. He yawned again. He’d deal with it tomorrow. He was slipping his phone into his other pocket when he heard your voice, soft and strangely deferent. “Leon?” you asked.

He looked up, a little surprised to see you standing there, your silhouette outlined by the light behind you. He was surprised to see you in one of his shirts, completely oversized on your frame. He realized it’d already been a few seconds, passing by with him just staring at you. It wasn’t a bad thing, though. You were just so pretty, how could he not? When he finally snapped himself out of his daze, he yawned again, “Yeah, baby?”, finding himself walking instinctively towards you.

You were fidgeting with your fingers. Your eyes darted from him to the door, from him to the door. Can’t be asking to leave now, can you? Or maybe you were asking for something. He was about to prompt you to finish what you’d started when you finally spoke up.

“I felt…felt really lonely today.” You murmured, looking down at the floor, at your bare feet on the cold ground. Kicked at the ground a little. “Missed you. Didn’t um…” you trailed a little, eyes wandering slightly upwards. “Didn’t know what to do.”

Huh, he thought. His heart fluttered a little at your words, making his chest feel warm and light. He smiled at you. “That’s sweet. Missed you too, missed you so much.” He said. “Was thinking of you the whole day, angel.” He was standing right above you now.

For some reason, he thought he saw you grimace a little. But it was a momentary thing. He probably imagined it. You finally looked up at him, finally made eye contact for more than a split second. He could tell you wanted to say more, that what he said wasn't exactly what you hoped for. What you did want? He didn’t know.

Looking down at you, he stared in silent anticipation, in absolute adoration. His heart fluttered. Just as he lifted his hand up to brush away a stray hair on your cheek, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face in the dip between his neck and shoulder. He huffed in surprise a little, holding you against him as you shivered.

"Really missed me, huh?" He laughed, rubbing circles against your back. He was so happy. So happy he could die.

He held you against him until you pulled away, looking up at him with your perfect doe eyes, asking him to come to bed with you. Nothing sexual, you just wanted someone near you. His heart jumped, and so did his dick, but he nodded, willing to ignore his needs for yours. He promised to join you soon, watching you pad off to his bedroom, needing to go finish some nightly chores. He headed to his office, brain so full of rushing, giddy thoughts that he didn't notice the unusual quietness when he walked or even the strange emptiness in his back pocket.

--

You were dragging your nails down his skin like some feral animal, nose red and cheeks flushed and eyelashes all wet and matted, tears freely flowing down from your pretty doe eyes. He grabbed you from behind, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries as you sobbed and weakly writhed against him. He held you close to him, hand on your face and an arm wrapped around your waist. He was about to say something, to tell you just how disappointed, how pissed off he was, when his voice caught. A minute ago, maybe two, he'd found you at 3 a.m. in the morning, fucking with his front door and his keys, you ungrateful idiot, yet here he was now, tongue tied. He barely got a syllable out before he stopped himself, cursing you when he realized he was getting all breathy, his face flushing a little, his pants growing tighter. Fuck, was he getting off to this? That’s sick. He was sick. He was getting off to the idea, no, to the sight of you choking. Made him feel all warm and fluffy inside for all the wrong reasons. Actually, he was getting off to the idea of raping someone. Jesus, Leon. Fuck. He was getting off to the idea of raping you. Damn.

He held you against his chest, staggering backwards to lean against the wall for support. He hissed curses under his breath next to your ear, warning you to keep still. He couldn't stand squirming. Made things so much more difficult. It was hot though. God damn. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to scream. Shout at you, maybe. He didn't know. Hearing your muffled pleas, something stirred within him, pent up and tired and angry, and for some sick reason, he didn't lift his palm from your mouth, instead wrapping his arm around your neck, pressing your windpipe in between his forearm and bicep, hissing in your ear, "Shut the fuck up."

He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes, ignoring your begging and yet at the same time reveling in it. He needed to think. Needed to think about what the fuck he was doing. He felt you hiccup against him, felt your warm tears drip onto his cold skin, and Jesus Christ his dick was harder than ever. He loosened his grip on your throat, hearing you gasping for breath, not even trying to beg him to stop. He slumped a little, guilt climbing up from the depths of his wretched soul. He was still breathing hard.

When did you get his keys? He heard you sobbing apologizes now. How the fuck did you manage to snatch them without him noticing? He was running through all his interactions with you recently, unable to pinpoint when, where, how, until he remembered what happened just a couple hours ago. Oh. Oh.

"Feeling sorry, angel? Or feeling guilty?" He murmured into your ear, fighting to keep his tone flat. He was irritated enough that he had to stumble out of bed at three in the fucking morning, pissed that when he was still rubbing the blurriness from his eyes he found you trying each of his keys and still somehow failing at unlocking a fucking door, but at the same time, he was hurt, betrayed that you had tried to leave him, even entertained the passing thought of escape.

"Sorry, sorry, 'm so, so sorry," you sobbed against him, breathing erratic and your entire body shaking. What a mess. You could barely stand.

"Really?" His voice dropped. "Sorry for waking me up at three in the fucking morning? Sorry for stealing my keys? Sorry for lying to me, for betraying me?" For some reason, he couldn't feel anger at your escape attempt. Not like he wasn't angry, though. No, he was angry, but not because of that. You lied to him. Said you missed him in that sweet voice, looked up to him with those big, innocent eyes, shivered against him and said you missed him, all just for some bigger plan. He was almost disgusted.

He heard your incoherent, pathetic pleas for mercy. He wasn't hearing you out, though. He grabbed you, tossing you over his shoulders and headed to his bedroom.

He kicked the door shut and threw you down onto the mattress, watching you cry and shiver and open your mouth to scream. Nothing would come out, though. He felt his hands fumble with his belt, with his jean's zipper. He dimmed the lights. Maybe he wouldn't feel as bad if he couldn't see your face. Maybe.

He found himself crawling on top of you, slipping his hands up your shirt. He wanted to be mad, wanted to be able to take out his anger on you, choke you and slap you and bruise you and bite you, mark you as his, fuck you so hard you wouldn't ever think of escaping again, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to hurt you, even when you deserved it. At least not that way. He cursed you under his breath as his hands found your breasts, kneading and grabbing and even twisting your nipple between his thumb and index. You cried out, all pathetic, squirming beneath him. His heart softened, just a little.

"Shh, don't cry. Don't cry." He murmured against your ear. He heard your loud swallows, and looking at you, looking into your eyes, he saw your lovely, naïve face twisted into one of pure terror. Maybe even disgust. He felt so bad, but it wasn't his fault. He tried to be so good to you, treat you all soft and sweet, take it real slow, make it romantic, make it easy. But he was just a man. You committed the crime. It wasn't his fault. Not his fault. He heard himself groan a little, even as your hands pitifully shoved against his chest, even as you tearfully begged him to stop. He was just a man.

The bed creaked, and you cried, and his breathing just kept getting heavier and heavier. He tried to ignore the slight tightening of his throat, the just noticeable watering of his eyes. He couldn't hurt you. He couldn't. But he was, he was hurting you in the worst way possible. His heart broke as he watched you flinch, but his dick somehow hardened every time you sobbed, as you somehow tightened with every wince.

He gripped your hips to pull you up against him with each thrust, and at the same time tried to ignore the way you gripped the sheets, knuckles white, face frozen in pain and pleasure and fear. He had to stop himself from crying a little. You felt so wonderful, though, looked so pretty, even now. He leaned his forehead against yours, felt you rock beneath him. "Sorry, 'm so sorry," he murmured with each thrust, voice clouded by lust, apologetic even as he raped you. He still loved you. Really did. But still, he didn't stop, shutting his eyes instead as if that would make all his guilt disappear.

-

You'd been acting nicer for the past two weeks. Compliant, deferent, soft and malleable. Your voice was always low, sometimes to the point he'd have to ask you to repeat. You didn't say much anymore, not like you did before. There was a heaviness in your movement, like everything you did was a struggle. He'd notice it when you woke up, with the morning light streaming in through the window, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close to him, and you just wouldn't move. He'd brush his nose against your neck, murmuring soft Good morning's and How're you feeling?'s, but you just wouldn't move. You'd sit there like a corpse, cold and apathetic, yet your flesh was still so warm and your skin so soft.

He'd wonder about that while he brewed your morning tea, watching you slump against the dining room chairs, staring out the window, staring into stillness. He'd talk to you the whole time, trying so hard to coerce some sort of response other than your one word answers or your quiet hums, but nothing would come out. Your eyes were constantly glazed over, like an unending cloudy day. It wasn't all bad, though. All those jokes about women existing to be looked at, not to be heard? You were just that. He was just a man, you know.

He came home from work a few hours ago, whistling, keys jingling as he spun them on his fingers. Now, you were curled up together on the couch, your back to his chest, engulfed by the darkness of the early winter night like a heavy blanket, your form illuminated only by the blue light of the TV. He had some random local channel on. It didn't matter. Only you mattered.

After that incident, you stopped squirming in his arms, stopped trying to escape his grip or lose his touch. Instead, you just sat there like a pretty doll, just like you were meant to. You let your entire body weight slump against him, let your head rest in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. He pet your hair, brushing his fingers through each strand, gently detangling. He wrapped his arms around your torso to hold you close to him, and he hummed in contentment. "Missed you, baby." He watched your head slowly perk up to look at him, expression all dazed and dumb. So pretty. "What'd you do today?" he murmured quietly, looking into your glassy eyes and brushing away a stray hair.

You had a neutral expression on your face as you thought the question over. It took you a few seconds to respond. "Slept."

The TV, which he vaguely recognized to be playing a news channel, buzzed in the background. He laughed a little at your response. It made him so happy that you even spoke. "Really? Slept all day, but you still look so tired." He teased, almost commenting on the growing bags beneath your eyes but holding himself back. You just nodded in response, laying your head back down on his shoulders.

One hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and the other still playing with your hair, his mind started to drift. Not to anything in particular, though. He wondered what that secretary at work was writing down, what Chris and Wesker were talking about, just little, curious things. He felt your breathing slow, and he suddenly felt so warm inside, knowing that you could fall asleep against him. His breath right against your ear, he murmured, "Night, sweetheart," and looked up at the TV, noticing a missing person's report.

A random boy returned his gaze. The camera panned to shots of a forest, and a news reporter recounted all the details. Name? Jack Reed. Age? Seven years old. Last sighting? Three days ago, heading into the woods for some reason, somewhere. Leon didn't care. What he did care about, though, was that this meant that the world had already moved on. Everyone had stopped looking. Or at least, the public gaze had already shifted. Now, they were looking for someone new. And the week after that, someone else. And with each passing week, the world would forget about you, and that just left more for him. So he just kept on brushing his fingers through your hair, humming quietly to himself. You were his girl now, his perfect, perfect girl, and maybe he hadn't made it real soft, hadn't taken it real slow, maybe even the opposite, but at least now, he could make it real sweet.

#sicko's #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #stalker leon kennedy #kidnapper leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #writing ೃ⁀➷

[ryoukio]

Revendread Leon in a skirt. Just wanted to practice some Lineless art.

Regular Leon version under the cut.

#Ryoukios art #fanart #re #resident evil #leon s kennedy #revendread leon #I need to get better at making the shading more defined me thinks. #also drawing hands #This is my ygo crossover au that I only talk about in one discord server #he and Hunnigan are teaming up #and by teaming up I mean she’s hiding him from the government and other kidnappers #And he’s just happy be somewhere that isn’t a burning hospital

[pupcuck]

SCHADENFREUDE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, kidnapper/victim relationship, stockholm syndrome, he puts u in the trunk of his car :3, sorta painal, squirting, slapping/hitting a lot.. of it, not non-con or dub-con but he keeps calling it that idk, painful sex, suicide mention cuz it’s leonnnn, sadism

note. haiii a follow up to rotten luck title has nothing to do w the fic i think :3 his character changes like every 5 mins im sorry .. readers character changed a lot too omg just blame it on stockholm! umm sorry for any mistakes please ignore them :3 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

rotten luck

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“What’re you doing?” With a foot in the door, Leon spots you hunched over the mantlepiece.

You jump like you do when he makes a noise over thirty decibels. Luckily, you’re housebroken now, just about, so there’s no piss. Or tears. He has no desire to deal with tears. Or piss or any fluid for that matter. Leon has bad days, and then he has worse days, then there are awful days– It’s only a bad day, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend his time forcing your head into a puddle of your own piss. Fundamentally, piss is not his concern, he’s potty-trained and has been for a good thirty-four years. He’d like to think a good forty-three years, but he was a criminal bedwetter up until the ripe age of twelve. Foster system does that to you. You make the piss Leon’s concern when you do it on his floor–

“What’re you doing?” Leon asks once more when he wrenches himself away from his piss tangent. He decides to let you off for not answering the first time ‘cause he’s generous like that. Quietly, as everything you do is scarce and ghostlike, you point at the printed photos on his mantle with great interest. There’s three because Leon only really gives a shit about three people. They shouldn’t be out in the open like that. Leon doesn’t remember leaving them out, so he’d like to blame you, but maybe this is a sign of early-onset dementia.

“Who’s she?” You nod to Ashley first, pressed to his side so tightly, so lovingly, so sure that he loves her bombardment. Her affection, whatever it is that she insists it is. He thinks back to tearing her from the clutches of emaciated beings and wonders how he can stand here so normally. As if nothing ever happened. Ashley’s name is the one in the back of his throat, shattered and bloody like glass in a domestic dispute. Then again, he is face to face with his kidnapping victim and all. So it’s not very normal when he looks at the bigger picture. Far from normal, abnormal at the very least. Fucking deranged might be the right term.

“My ex,” Leon lies to see the look of disdain that crosses your face, the unpleasant curl of your lips that irons out when he pets your head. Whether it be for him or Ashley, he wouldn’t like to know. “Joking, baby, I saved her,” Leon settles on saved because there is no other way to explain it, and because he would love for you to know that they’re not his other kidnapping victims and that you’re his one and only kidnappee and he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid enough to take pictures of and with kidnapped girls. Well, Ashley was a kidnapped girl, not his kidnapped girl, however.

Leon is very feminist, rescuing slender-ankled maidens is his speciality, you’re just an outlier. “I saved her,” he says when you nod at Manuela next, and then for Sherry, he pauses, “I saved her.” Sherry’s face goads him into cowardice, blowing his brains out is difficult when she’s sitting on his shoulder at all times like a Vatican cherub, covalently bonded to his heart or his soul. Whichever matters after you die. “You want a picture too, baby? Autograph?” He kisses your kidnapped little fingers with the guilt of a man who has been pointlessly guilty all his life - now literally guilty by CJS standards for the four months you’ve been captive.

You smile at him, and consequently his drops. “I’m good,” you say, smiling your real smile. It upsets him. “I’ve got the real thing.” When you talk too much he remembers that you’re not a toy or a plaything or anything of the sort. That you’re a real girl.

Sometimes Leon has these moments of startling clarity. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause mommy didn’t love you enough, but daddy hit you hard enough to knock the functioning parts of your brain out of place. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause you got touched back in boot camp, ‘cause you’ve seen a couple hundred people die.

At this point, he simply can’t move on, but he can give up. Every night the gun under his pillow digs into the hollows of his skull. It’s just that Leon can’t leave you, his lucky little girl, he feels responsible for the state you’re in. Stockholm and all. That wasn’t his intention, he’d rather you be dead out of sheer terror, your frail little heart would give out mid Leon’s fucked up chimaera that is part nasty, hot sex and part brutal beating and the most he would have to do is bury your bones in his backyard.

Pretend you never existed. Your name fades into obscurity like every other name does. Your face is just another face. And no one truly cares in the end. America’s love is limited, its affections will go elsewhere, to a prettier kidnapped girl in California or a younger one in Maine. The police will pass you off as a runaway soon enough, and no one would ever have to mourn a bodiless casket. What a mess. Leon didn’t mean to be so charming, didn’t mean to make you fall for him, he didn’t know girls these days were so into getting raped on the daily. Now he’s facing the repercussions of his sex appeal. God forbid he exists in sexy peace.

You gotta make everything his problem, don’t you? Lucky little thing. Leon wonders if you’ve ever had to do anything for yourself. Wonders, ponders, thinks, but he won’t pry. ‘Cause it makes him feel, like, really fucking sucky. That he plucked you out of your perfect little life ‘cause his life is the shittiest little life in this piece of shit world.

He struggles to even utter your name– Your name, god, he bets it was picked out so delicately, so carefully– And that pisses Leon off ‘cause his dad named Leon after his favourite hooker, remove the A from Leona and there you have it! Italian enough for his ma too, hit a perfect sweet spot. Now he’s upset, the perennial guilt has wilted and he’s just fucking exasperated by you. By your luck. By your shamelessness. What twisted little bitch sits there and gloats about having the real thing in reference to her kidnapper. In actuality, it’s Leon that has the real thing.

Leon knocks you down like you’re made of styrofoam. That little yelp never gets old. You see, he’s been struck by this awful migraine and he wants you to feel the same. You should ache like he does, but you don’t ‘cause you’re young and healthy and he makes you go to bed at an appropriate time ‘cause it’s his duty as your kidnapper to make sure you don’t die out of neglect - death via beating is fine and understandable.

You sit at his feet so sweetly, a stray dog that’s wandered into the shrine of a lonely god, curling up at the foot of a wooden statuette to seek some form of solace. Unfortunately for you, Leon is no god, just a normal man with a heart and a soul and a dick that thinks for itself. He does what any man with a dumb dick would do - grabs you by the ankle and lugs you towards the bedroom like a deer carcass. It’s slightly comical, and he knows that ‘cause he hears you giggle a little.

“Rape is nothin’ to laugh about, sweetheart,” Leon says ‘cause that’s the plan, he drops you down on the bed with a thunk. Is it even rape when the other party, a very much kidnapped party, is enjoying it? Truly, you suck the joy out of his life.

“Sorry, Leon,” you go slack and stupid the second he gropes your tit, he’s not one for foreplay, it bores him most days. He’ll eat your pussy ‘cause he likes the taste, but he’s old and his cock is on its last legs and the moment his shit jumps to life it’s best to get it in ASAP.

“It’s okay, baby,” Leon lifts the hem of your shirt, “I know you’re really fuckin’ stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout it, yeah?” God, he’s way too nice. He pulls the shirt over your head and you’re left bare.

“Thank you, Leon,” You’re well-mannered, he’ll give you that, polite little thing, it's terribly endearing, has the walls of his gristly heart caving in.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” he hums, unzipping his jeans to get his dick out before it ultimately droops. Your cunt is sopping, takes to his fingers easily, he curls them upwards to hear those slick clicks. “Spread ‘em.” Leon taps your thigh, and you bend your knees outwards, a foot flat on the bed. It’s nice that you’re wet for him and all, does wonders for his ego, but loose holes are no fun.

“Not there,” you’re so cute when you whine, would look so cute stuffed in the trunk of his car, god. He’d even put a pillow between your thighs to give that cunt some friction. Keep you entertained while he drives aimlessly.

“Baby, you should know better,” Leon chides, spreads your ass and eyes up your tighter hole. “Didn’t ask you, did I?”

“Nuh-uh, Leon.” Comes your automated response.

“What did I tell you?”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” you relay the words like you’re reading from a rulebook.

Creepy. Makes him shudder. Maybe Leon did Stockholm you purposefully, he didn’t expect you to respond so well, he was just saying shit. Like, shit that comes out of his mouth when he’s horny, and your sick little brain took his word as law. So, like, that’s your fault and you’re making it his problem. ‘Cause everyone loves to make everything Leon’s problem.

“God, you’re such a clever girl, baby,” he coos because he is so kind and gracious, giving out praise left and right. The tip of Leon’s cock is sticky, drags it through the seam of your cunt to part your folds, kisses your clit with the fat head. There’s a slight gape to your puckered hole when he grabs your ass cheek to open you up. Leon’s forced his way in countless times before, it’s no different this time. With a cock lubed by precum and your drippy cunt, he pushes into your asshole mercilessly.

“That’s a cute face, sweetheart, you gonna do that for me again?” Leon asks, taking a handful of tit as he admires the pain washing over your face— The divot between your brows that he smooths over with his thumb, a quivering bottom lip, eyes screwed shut ‘cause you’re trying to take his fat cock like a good girl should. You make it so easy to hurt you.

“Leon,” you whimper when he bottoms out. His cock kicks inside you, he pulls out to be mean, carves out space and your hole flutters ‘cause it’s so empty— Leon forces his way back in, till the ring of muscle swallows up the base of his cock, and his balls smack wetly against the fat of your ass. Two fingers find their way into your sloppy pussy once more, he feels the ridges of his cock through the spongy, thin walls of your cunt, and you’re liking it too much, fucking him back far too enthusiastically when his thumb presses down on your pulsing clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this, sweetheart,” Leon tells you matter-of-factly, removes his fingers with a pop! and wipes the milky cream dribbling down his wrist on your tummy. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, Leon, I can’t,” you shake your head, trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him back to your puffy clit.

“Yes you can, baby, you’re gonna do it for me aren’t you?” He tuts, breaking free from your sorry excuse of a grip to lay a firm smack on your jaw. It sends your head to the right, hears your neck crack, he’s sure. “We don’t use words like ‘no’ do we?”

“No…”

Aw, that was a trick question— He gives you another smack to force your head to the left. A little brain damage goes a long way. Keeps you obedient. When you get over the dizziness and face him head-on, you try to blink away the tears to no avail, they roll down your cheeks in pearlescent blobs. Clicker training is unneeded when you have a firm hand. It’s worked so well, any mention of your life outside of the time spent in his home and he’s punching your lights out, now you talk to Leon about Leon, and you think of Leon, and you fuck Leon and you love him– Jesus, okay, he did Stockholm you real fucking bad. No wonder you’re so weird.

Leon rabbits into you, short and shallow thrusts ‘cause it’s harder for you to breathe that way with his cock constantly pushing and jabbing and— Fuck, he’s practically reshaping your insides at such a brutal pace.

“I knew you could do it,” Leon snickers, presses hard on your abdomen to help you cum— And you’re so cute when you do, writhing and lifting your hips up and just looking a little stupid. There’s a stuttered breath, then you’re squirting in sharp bursts, from his cock in your ass alone. “There we go— You did it, baby, did so well—“ He is so fucking sweet to you, talking you through your high and shit. “You love getting your ass fucked don’t you?”

When you don’t respond, too busy trying to recover from an orgasm that’s left you boneless, Leon knocks some sense into you. “I do,” you gasp, teeth clattering like they always do when he hits you. “I do, Leon, I do, I love it— Love you.”

Holy shit. He hates it. That’s what drives him over the edge, that’s what makes him fuck his load into your ass till it’s dripping back down his shaft, that’s what gets his legs all shaky? It sickens him.

“Do you love me, Leon? I love you so much, Leon,” you mumble to him feverishly when he dips low to rest his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek.

“You’re growing on me, baby,” Leon says, kissing the spot on your cheek he hit less than a minute ago. “Go clean yourself up.” He checks his watch while you limp off to the en-suite. “I’m headin’ out soon.”

“What?” You poke your head past the door frame, genuinely distraught at this revelation. “But you just got home, Leon, I was so bored— Can I come with you?”

“Are you dumb, baby?” Leon blinks at you, and he knows the answer is yes already.

“I’ll just miss you, like, lots ‘n lots.” You’re padding towards him, seating yourself on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips to draw you in, you breathe in his scent. It can’t be pleasant, but you get something out of it. “I want to come with you, please. I won’t run away, Leon, I like it with you.”

“I know you won’t run away,” he hums, squeezing your hips. “What would you do without me? You’d just miss me, baby.”

“And I’m gonna miss you when you go now, Leon.” Your arms loop around his neck. This is fucking disgusting. You’re not his girlfriend, but his literal kidnapping victim and he’s all loved up, letting you stroke his hair and kiss his neck— Fuck, he hates it, hates that he likes you so damn much.

It’s not like he could get away with it. Claire’s got, like, a database in her head for all the fucking women in the world. One look at your face and she’ll know. And how the fuck are you meant to play that off? Bringing a missing girl as your date for the night.

“You can come with me,” he agrees, just not in the girlfriend way, but in the appropriate kidnapped girl way. With a gag in your mouth and your hands behind your back, tucked into his trunk like a cute, fleshy suitcase.

Zip ties are best, rope comes second, and Leon’s tie is probably not on the list of best kidnapping tools. He just wasn’t prepared to take you with him. He’s fairly new to the whole kidnapper thing, it’s quite exhausting.

The sun sets early these days, and it’s not like Leon lives in a crowded area. Only sign of life on the street is him. And you. Panties stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag, wrists tied together with the tie Hunnigan got him for Christmas. You could spit the panties out at any minute, but you don’t. You could break free from the shitty knot he’s tied, but you don’t. Leon must be good at this manipulation thing ‘cause you’re so damn docile, letting him lay you down like a corpse, move you around like one.

“All good?” Leon asks, tilts his head to the side as you stare up at him with glassy eyes. Not all good. You’re terrified. He can tell. You still nod though. “Good.” He kisses your head, then shuts you in.

Leon is already a bit of a nervous driver. His windows are blacked out at least. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong. Like there’s drugs planted in his glove compartment, or he’s got blood money on the backseat, or a cute girl in the trunk— Which he does, but he doesn’t usually have a cute girl tied up in the trunk. He usually does get a ticket or two though, able to charm his way out of it, flash his ID.

There isn't a single noise from you, not even a thump, and it worries him. Leon considers pulling over, but he drives on white-knuckled and shaky. Hopes you haven’t rolled out without him noticing. Been flattened by a truck. Jesus Christ, he thought something about this would be gratifying, but his nerves have spiked and unlocked a new level of anxiety. He should hand himself in right now– Obviously, he doesn’t do that, and he parks up outside Claire’s apartment instead, and he is going to check on you, he is, he was–

“Oh, hey you!” Sherry takes him by surprise, her hand is small in his, but it’s calloused. Doesn’t feel like it did when he held it the first time. Even smaller and bloodied. When she smiles at him, soft wrinkles form. “You’re on time,” she comments, and he wants to die because there is a girl in his trunk.

“Right on, kiddo!” He says to Sherry who is thirty-seven and married. Leon would like to think he does well in high-pressure situations, he does do well in high-pressure situations. That’s a fact. He’s great in end-of-the-world-type scenarios, great at saving America from impending doom, he could do it with his eyes closed– Facing the closest thing you have to family not as yourself, but as a creepy, old rapist is insanely difficult and he would prefer to never do it again. However, he is exactly that, plus a kidnapper, so Leon will continue to do it for the rest of his days.

“Are you okay, Leon?” The corners of her lips are downturned– She knows, oh god, she knows, and she’s never going to look at you the same, and she’ll hate you for the rest of her life– “You’re not sick, are you? I heard there was a bug going around, Jake got sick today that’s why he couldn’t come.” Fuck Jake. Leon dislikes him. Her hair is longer, long enough to fall over her shoulders. He’d tell her to cut it, in their line of work it’s a risk, but she looks how she used to look, and Leon can’t say anything to her.

“No, I’m just, I’m cold, it’s cold, right? It’s cold out here, let’s go inside– Claire’s waiting,” he says very smoothly, totally without a single fumble.

“What is up with you?” Claire scans his guilty face when she opens the door, scans it like a robot, not like an observant human. She steps aside to let Sherry in, kissing the shorter girl’s cheek, and then she blocks Leon from entering. “My pipes are bust, Leon.”

“Okay? Can’t help you with that, babe.” Leon is not a fucking plumber. Doesn’t look like one in the slightest. He’s handsome like a washed-up actor, he knows that much is true, does not fit the bill for a plumber.

“You look like you need to shit really bad.”

“God, I don’t, I’m just fuckin’ cold.” Leon shows her his shaky hands as proof. It’s not proof ‘cause these are kidnapper shakes.

Claire stares at him. Ineffable. Unflappable. She scares the shit out of him, might really end up on her busted toilet if she scrutinises him to this degree all night. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m great– I’m cold, I’m fine,” he says normally because he is a normal man with a heart and soul and dick and balls and credit. All the shit normal guys have. And a girl in the trunk, he’s got that too. The cast-iron doubt in Claire’s eyes has Leon on edge for the rest of the night. It never dissipates. Or she’s just looked that way her whole life and Leon’s overthinking it.

“Nah, Leon hates those, don’t you?” Sherry nudges his shoulder.

“Huh?” Leon says intelligently, he’s painfully aware of his blundering efforts at socialising. Painfully aware of you. In his trunk. Cold, scared, and wet ‘cause you’re fucked up. He hates a lot of things like assless chaps and seven-eleven beer and swans. He drinks seven-eleven beer anyway. Does not wear assless chaps though. And he’d prefer to keep it that way. Swans piss him off ‘cause they're beautiful and violent and beautiful things should be passive like you are. Beautiful things were put on this earth to be gawked at. Beautiful things belong tied up in his car.

“Parrots,” she smiles at him again and he’s hit by a wave of nausea.

“What about ‘em?”

“Me and Jake want to get a pet, I’ve always wanted a parrot, you promised to get me one when I was a kid,” Sherry says, it’s not even to guilt trip him, just factual, but Leon feels like the shittiest guy alive, he’s very good at feeling bad.

“I do hate them,” Leon confirms, “They talk too much.” Pets are pets. They roll over, show off their bellies, wag their tails, they shouldn't speak.

“That’s what I like about them!”

Leon gets a headache when you speak for even a minute, that’s why he couldn't deal with a parrot. Or any pet other than his lucky girl ‘cause at least she’s smart enough to know when to shut up.

“It’s not like they talk a lot.” Claire fills her wine glass for the nth time. “They speak when spoken too,” she says while blinking at Leon so directly he thinks she might’ve put cameras in his house to see if he’s being as feminist as he claims he is. “And you can teach them names, I think it’s cute.”

“We took care of a puppy last year, a friend’s one, but Jake doesn’t like dogs at all. Poor thing, she got car sick when we took her out, she was in the back on her own, and she must’ve been so scared-”

A dog in the back of a car all on her own. God, doesn’t that sound familiar? Did you get car sick? Should he have checked up on you? Fuck, you might’ve choked to death on your own car sickness by now. The clock ticks and Leon checks his watch about ten times within five minutes. He can’t leave first. He never leaves first– Oh, fuck, but what if you’re fucking dead? He prays you aren’t. He would appreciate it if you were alive.

“I don’t… I don’t feel great,” Leon says not convincingly when he stands up, then he bends to kiss Sherry on the head. “I love you, sweetheart, we’ll catch up next time, alright?” And he doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond properly. Collecting his keys from the table, his jacket, his gun.

Leon, don’t you want to finish– Leon, you’re leaving– Call me when you get back– I’ll miss you, Leon– Text me back– Should you be driving–

He would love to reassure Sherry, tell her that he’ll miss her so much he could die and that he promises to text Claire back on time, and that he’s perfectly capable when it comes to drunk driving. but he’s pretty sure he’s got a missing dead girl in his trunk. Leon wonders if they can see him clearly from Claire’s fifth-story window. They don’t care about what he’s doing, but the probability that they might be able to see what he’s doing, acting all shady, is scary. The street lights flicker, and when he opens the hatch, he’s bathed in the glow of your halo. Hail fucking Mary and Joseph and Jesus. You’re there, eyes frantic, and very alive, panties still stuffed in your mouth. Could’ve spat those out by now, but you’re a good girl.

“Fuck,” Leon sighs, he smiles like he loves you. “Hi, baby, did you have fun?” He hunches over to get a better look at you, you’re in the position he left you in, on your side, balled up, almost foetal. He slaps your tit, pinches your cheek, pokes your ass like he’s giving you a physical. You shake your head. “No?” Leon pouts at you, then he leaves you in the dark by slamming the lid. The thrill has sorta settled in, or he’s just tipsy, ‘cause he’s giddy about it, about having you back there. Highways are fairly empty at this time, and so now that he’s boosted by you not being dead and cognac, Leon parks up on the side of the road. Opens up his trunk, again, it’s the most he’s ever used it, shit is gonna fall off its hinges.

“You saved me,” you say when he takes your spit-soaked panties out of your mouth. “You found me, sir, I was so scared, I-I thought I was going to die in here.”

Leon’s confused for a second, then he gets it. You’re roleplaying as… as a kidnapping victim. Which you already are. So it’s like the Droste effect, or holarchy, or more simply a thing within a thing. You’re letting him take on the hero part, which he’s most familiar with, he’s good at being the good guy, that’s why Leon is a pretty crummy kidnapper. “I saved you,” Leon says flatly, he goes with it. “You should suck my dick to say thank you.” He didn’t mean to say that so soon, he was gonna play along for longer, but you made him really fucking hard just then. Teary-eyed, snotty, looking so cute and sweetly kidnapped.

Waiting for your response isn’t his style. Leon had his dick out before you even spoke, he was planning on just stuffing it in your mouth, but you went and made up a little story in your head to get him even harder. He shuffles forward, wipes the tip on your lips, slaps it on your cheek.

“C’mon, open up, baby.” You nose at the underside of his cock, then take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and giving it to him so well, how he likes it, choking once you get to the balls. Leon places a hand on the back of your head, forces you still as he pounds your throat, hearing you gag and heave brings him comfort, ‘cause you're struggling and he loves to make you struggle, loves to make you work for it. You've had it too easy, and now you’ve started liking the sex (read: rape), so Leon’s glad he can hurt you without you getting off on it. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, baby, you can stop that now,” Leon says like he wasn’t skullfucking you into a coma, his cock slips past your lips, strings of saliva beading your chin, your neck, your tits.

The trunk is kinda small, when he puts you on your front, your head rests on the backseats, and your legs dangle over the edge. “Can you untie me, sir?” You ask in a scratchy voice, throat shredded.

Leon ignores you. He’s busy scoffing at how fucking soaked you are, misses the days he had to spit on your cunt to get it wet, when he felt all big like his cock was imposing ‘cause you were so dry he had to force his way in, and you would scream so loud it sliced his skin, and he would groan for that contrapuntal effect ‘cause hurting you is the best thing he’s ever felt. Better than opioids, better than regular sex, better than a scalp massage, better than anything that feels mildly great.

Your cunt swallows his shaft too well, and it is hot to know you’re so far gone now, but would it kill your pussy to show some form of resistance? He knocks his hips forward so hard the car jolts, thrusts all his weight into you, so his cock is doing nothing but harm, breaking your cunt in, going past your cervix, womb-fucking and all that good shit. It doesn’t get further than your cervix for obvious reasons.

‘Cause his dick is not a knife, it’s a dick and it twitches when you clench. He likes having a dick, he likes to fuck with it, likes to stick it in places it shouldn’t be, likes to disfigure and wreck and ruin with it - fly in the ointment is that it’s not immune to stupid, sloppy holes that beg for it. Leon shudders, keeps himself buried to the hilt, rolls his hips forward so the tip jabs the fleshy, firm opening of your cervix in painful grinds.

“Leon,” you wheeze, twisting like you’re getting exorcised, “Leon— Leon, it hurts—“

“I know, baby,” Leon pats your ass, giving a sharp thrust forward to make you sob. “Keep talkin’ to me like that, turns me on.”

“Hurts so bad, hurts, Leon, ‘s gonna– ‘s gonna kill me, Leon– Don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please–”

“Shit,” he laughs breathlessly. That was hot. Girls begging for their lives ‘cause his dick is too good. When you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby– You look fucked.” Like you’re terrified of him. That's how it should be. “Don’t go pushin’ me out,” Leon grunts, words punctuated by strokes that have you reeling in all the worst ways.

“I can’t–” Your head bumps the seats when Leon knocks you in the back of the head. Hard enough to stun you into silence.

“Can’t run from it, can you?” Leon bites down on your shoulder, momentary relief from the cruel drag of his cock inside your sticky cunt, now you can focus on his teeth. How he might tear into you. Eat you up. “Gotta take it for me, baby, ‘cause that’s what you're good for. No brains just got a stupid little cunt.” When he cums, you arch into him, and he fucks into you with all he’s got, till you’re stuffed full of his seed. Something to keep your belly warm for the ride home. Leon should get an award for being this considerate.

“Leon, can I sit in the front?” you sniffle, pathetic and floppy and orgasmless.

He sneers at you. “Do you want me to get caught, sweetheart? You wanna get taken away from me?”

“No, Leon…”

Click!

That was cathartic. Leon’s glad you’ve still got pain receptors, you’re not totally gone, clinging on for dear life, but still afloat. He carries his little body bag to the door. “Want a photo?” Leon sets you down on the ground, you cling to the back of his shirt as he struggles with his jammy lock.

“Oh, yeah!” You light up, “‘Cause you saved me!”

“Yeah, baby.” Leon ushers you inside. “I saved you.” From the boot of his own fucking car.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[dilfartist]

Selfish

Pairing; Yandere Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; You escape your captor during one of his many missions. You stop by a diner searching for help. What will happen next? Find out by reading

Word count; 3.8K

TW; Kidnapping, non-con touching, Stockholm syndrome, maybe just a tad bit ooc, Yandere (obviously), obsessive behavior, cussing.

Notes; hopefully you enjoy reading. It’s not the best since I’m still maturing as a writer and because of my hiatus; but I hope you enjoy.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Sapphire-embellished twilight transitions into dawn’s light blue hue bringing alongside the sun. Birds sang good morning to one another, on their side of the forest. You ambled down the road that ceased the strong odored forest from connecting.

You stared at the endless road up ahead. Night to morning, ahead of you was forest and road. Perhaps this reason is why your captor moved into the isolated forest since raccoon city incident.

Or maybe he wanted to live a life of normalcy given the opportunity; the monsters he claimed he fought, seemingly every month, stressed him greatly and you noticed. Plus, he mentioned he needed a vacation frequently.

You pause, double-checking onward on the ostensibly never-ending road. Was your hard work a waste of time?

Looking back on the way he treated you, you pondered if it would have been smarter to stay home. Most days he wasn't overbearing. Once in a while, he’d annoy you, other than that he was tolerable. Besides being unable to leave the house unattended and having no say in choices at times, he gave you more freedom than most.

But then you remember the day before. At the crack of dawn, he’d left for a mission: bidding you goodbye with a note and breakfast at your night table side. You were left all alone, so naturally you sought a form of entertainment.

The television; Which was your only option.

You were clicking through the television channels when you came across a crime documentary. The story was similar to your personal life so you continued to watch the channel.

The story was about a woman, age twenty-three, who was kidnapped for around four years. During her kidnapping, she fell deeply in love with her kidnapper to the point they had to detach her from the cop car when they arrested him.

In your situation, you’ve been abducted for at least eight months. Her situation only took a year till she developed Stockholm syndrome.

Clarified by the show as the psychological condition of a victim who identifies with and empathizes with their captor or abuser and their goals.

Learning this information a thought came to mind.

Would you become like her once it hits New Year's? Loyal to a man that took you away from society. No. You refused to allow the same situation to happen to you.

You’d never allow it to happen.

When it came to the relationship your captor so desperately longed for with you, you caused many difficulties to prevent any form of romance.

Any attempt at affection had him pushed away or smacked. Discussion about the past before your absconding was simply ignored. And in general, you kept your distance from him. Well, at least you tried to. He stays at your hip like a lost puppy majority of the time he has off work, talking your ear off. There was no way in hell you’d fall for him. Not after the months you spent in that isolated house.

Regardless of how certain you were, you mulled over it some more. You finally concluded running. So far, you felt regret and relief.

Out of nowhere, a loud reverberating sound of a car grew closer, arising behind you. You quickly spun around to see what the sound originated from.

The engine growled, sending a ping of fright to your heart. You spent no time thinking about Leon’s reaction to your escape. However, now your mind consumes thoughts of his response.

Could your captor's fury be so robust that the car in the distance embodied his rage? Knowing him since your best friend introduced you to the man becoming a rookie cop in raccoon city; you’ve never seen him enrage.

From time to time his witty replies and mean scowl would showcase his anger. Of course, that didn't mean his rage wasn't feasible. But never had you ever witnessed a stronger emotion from him.

Inching closer, you were able to discern the details of the car. It was a massive black car, with tinted windows. A car your captor might arrive home with after a mission. It announced its presence with its vociferous roaring.

You observe with dread blooming in the pit of your stomach, every other part of your body tingled.

Although the person driving the car was yet to be revealed, you were petrified, stuck in place like you had been glued onto the concrete below you.

It must be him.

Why else would they be heading so fast toward you?

Already, you’re willing to surrender. Your captor is a forgiving person when it comes to you, so there’s a likelihood he’ll forgive you if you cooperate.

Standing on the side of the road, you acquiescently wait for the car to stop. Waiting for him to take you back to your prison.

The car slows but even then it's at a fast pace. The car passes you momentarily. Slightly it reverses until the passenger window is in front of you. Unhurriedly, the shadowy window rolls down. In the driver's seat, instead of who you believed it to be, it was a woman.

She looked to be in her middle thirties. She wore black sunglasses in her strawberry-blonde hair, a red blouse with denim jeans. Her makeup reminded you of Jennifer Tilly in Bride of Chucky, but she wore a sweet smile.

“Oh my lord, are you alright darling?” The woman asked like you were a child outside without a jacket in the freezing winter.

You continued to stare at her. You wanted to say something, but your throat felt drier than sandpaper. You opened your mouth, wheezing a bit as you sipped the fresh air. “I don't know,” you responded as loud as you possibly could. So barely above a whisper.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Are you safe?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head disapprovingly, then she began to throw whatever laid in the passenger seat into the backseats. “Come on sugar, get inside. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She reached over and pushed the passenger door open. You entered the vehicle, settled in, and got comfy. You buckled in making sure you heard the reassuring click.

“There you go,” she commented with a smile. “Now, we're going to make a stop by a gas station, then we’ll find out what we can do with you. Is that alright?

You smiled back, “Yeah, I don't mind.”

The car began to ride forward and the air conditioning blew on your overheated body. You relished the cold air. You hadn't realized how hot it had been outside, even in the early morning. Where were you?

You put that thought aside. Now you needed to worry about something to drink and eat.

“Do you…have anything to drink or eat?” you glanced at the woman.

She nodded. “Of course sweety! Why didn't I offer before?” she looked away from the street to grab a half-empty bottle of water from the side of the driver's door. “Sorry, that's the only drink I have at the moment.” she apologizes.

Without a second thought, you unscrewed the cap off the water and chugged the water. Water had never tasted so refreshing before. It was like you’d been roaming in the desert for hours on end and finally found a source of water.

The woman glances at you. You must have looked crazy. “How long have you been out there?”

“Since eight last night.” You sounded better. No more raspy voice that hurts you to speak. “I should have packed a bag but something came up.”

Before you left the house last night, you weren't in your right mind. Your captor never gave you an exact time he’d be home. His return ranged between the eight at night, the dead of night, the crack of dawn, or the morning. Recently, he’d been arriving home at eight. Which is the reason you left with nothing. Looking back, you had no confidence in yourself at getting away. You believed you were going to be caught in a matter of ten minutes. Now look at you.

You turned to the woman, “Thanks…” She finishes the sentence with her name. “Amanda.” You nod rephrasing your sentence, “Thanks Amanda for picking me up.”

Amanda smiles again, this time wider showing off her pearly white teeth. “I couldn't just leave you out there. Now, what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and hope she somehow knows it. Maybe the news reported you missing when you weren’t watching. You hoped so.

Rather than freaking out, realizing she had found a missing person, she simply responded with a “nice to meet you.” You died a little at the rejoinder.

Did no one care enough to report your absence? Not your family or close friends, no one attempted to reach out to the police?

No. You’re just overthinking. Not everyone watches the news or actively looks for missing people. You just had to be around more people. Someone was bound to know your identity.

Still, you can’t ignore the way your hands shake at the thought of being forgotten.

“So what were you out there for? If you don’t mind sharing that is.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What were you to say? Tell her the truth and find out she was with your captor the whole time or keep your mouth shut and have no help in case he does find you.

A white lie would help.

“Escaping my abusive boyfriend.”

A frown pulled at the woman’s plump lips, her eyebrows scrunching together at your answer. “Do I need to the cops, family members?”

“No,” you responded quickly and harshly. The car fell silent. You took a small breather before speaking. “No, thank you.”

“Please, tell me, is there anything else I can do to help you any further?”

You needed cash, shelter, and a job. There was only one thing you were sure she could help you with. “ I need money and a hotel.”

“Don't worry, I got you covered,” she said softly.

The car began to slow when she placed her foot on the break. She turned the car and moved into a spot that contained a combination of a gas station and an old fashion diner. She parked the car next to a gas pump, then powered it off.

She dug into the middle counsel, pushing around pens and important items, and pulled out a pink wallet. She unzipped the front zipper and pulled out some money.

Amanda held the cash out to you, “Here’s 100 dollars. There's enough for lasting food, a hotel to stay, and a bus.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt just to hug her tightly. “Thank you!” you repeat over and over, like an unanswered prayer. She returned the hug, telling you she didn't mind lending you some service. The hug ended and you needed to plan your next move. What would you spend your money on first?

Well, all you knew was what you’d spend what was given to you on something important.

You looked out the window. Your eyes shift toward the diner. Mo’s dinner was on the sign, “been here since the ’50s.” which was written below.

Right. Food. You haven't eaten since yesterday. Walking as long as you did, you tried to forget your hunger and focus on the main goal of finding shelter or at least some safety.

“I think I’ll have myself a hot breakfast!” you announced. Amanda unlocked the passenger door, “go right ahead. Enjoy your freedom.” You nod, fleeing the car akin to a little kid whose mother gave them money for an ice cream from the ice cream truck.

The entrance bell chimes when you open the door to the cream-colored establishment. Once inside, you settled yourself in a booth in the far back. An old jukebox plays aged music ranging from the 70s to the ’50. Besides you, there was a single person in the restaurant. A man at the bar sipping his morning coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

You extend your arm over to the menu across the table. The menu displays numerous appetizing dishes, varying from breakfast to a juicy steak dinner.

Flipping the page your eyes landed on a mouthwatering breakfast sandwich, including bacon, egg, and cheese.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Stephanie, I’ll be serving you this morning. What would you like?”

You placed the menu aside to give the waitress your whole attention. The woman was of average height, wearing a pink uniform that reminded you of the 50s. She wore a smile that did not reach her black doe eyes. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, feeling anxious about possibly pissing her off. “Could I have a number six and a sweet tea?”

“Of course, is that it?”

“Umm…yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright then,” she replied disinterestedly. She left quickly, retreating to the kitchen.

You continue gazing at the closed door to the kitchen. What else could you do? You should have brought along something to entertain you, then again there wasn't much back at the house you called a jail cell. For the remainder of the waiting duration, you’d have your thoughts to amuse your lethargy.

Ding Ding

Instinctively, your head turned. 50s music began to fade, superseded by the loud thumping of your heart. Your breathing became shaky, parallel to your hands. Dirty blonde hair is what you see first. It’s him! You repeat in your head, like a religious prayer.

“Jessica, hey!” you heard a joyous exclamation. You watch as the man from the bar rushes over to the person entering the restaurant. Your anxiety left as quickly as it came. A hand places itself onto your cheat, and on the spot your heart thumped rapidly. You had to calm down. You took deep breaths, and your heart slowed with each sip of air. You rest your head on the table.

After taking the time to calm yourself, you analyzed the restaurant furthermore. Now, the place was vacant, since the man had left. Fifteen minutes passed and you found a newspaper from the newspaper rack adjacent to the front entrance.

Nothing in the article was new to you. At your captor’s home, you watched the news almost once a week to see if anyone had reported your disappearance. Nothing ever came up though. At least you were up to date with everything going on.

Your waitress finally returned, carrying your meal on a maroon-colored tray in her left hand. “Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Kitchen malfunction.” she apologized, giving you a guileless smile. This would be the only expression besides tedium that you’d receive from her.

“It's alright,” you said, watching as she placed the food on the table for you to dig into. She left carrying the tray back to the kitchen she emerged from.

You took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. Juicy and delicious are solely vivid words to illustrate the taste. The egg had a spongy texture that combines well with melted cheese. And the hickory bacon wasn’t too crispy or chewy, it was simply perfect.

Back at the prison, your captor wasn't the best cook. But he tried to be for you. Still, you preferred takeout. Chinese, Italian, and burgers began to become a boring taste on your taste buds. Having a breakfast sandwich was refreshing, to say the least.

“Enjoying your meal, huh?” rough voice inquiries. The question was said cockily but their wrath was audible in the way the last word was spoken.

You stop mid-chew, the overwhelming flavor vanishing from your mind. It now tasted bland. You kept your eyes shut. Were you afraid? No. Afraid couldn't explain the ineffable amount of dread you felt at the moment. Ruffling could be heard on the opposite side of the table; He was sitting down. Your eyes open involuntarily like your body already knew what he wanted it to do.

Across the table, seating snugly is your captor; Leon Kennedy. He looks rougher than the last time you’ve spoken. The dark circle underneath his eye has grown darker. His brunette roots have begun peaking out ruining his natural blonde facade. And he looked exhausted. Must have stayed up all night looking for you.

He looked more than pissed. He appeared disgruntled. Compared to Leon, you were small. But now, Leon was like a giant towering over you. Despite never abusing you in any shape or form, your body shakes like a leaf in the wind. The way he glares down at you drives you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Do you know how long I've been up for, y/n?” he asks whilst pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket.

Regardless of how parched you are, you force yourself to converse with him. “No,” you're voice is brisk and faint.

“Two days. For two days I’ve been on my feet.” He takes a swig of the flask and then continues to rant. “I could have joined you in bed and fallen asleep, but there was a problem. You weren't anywhere.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is the matter with you? You could have gotten hurt. You probably are.”

Leon is getting angrier, you can tell by the way the furrowed eyebrows deepen and his frown morphs into a glower, as he utters each sentence.

“I’m sorry.” That's all you can say. It's all that comes to mind.

“Sorry won’t make up for the scars you've gotten.” he retorts angrily.

Now you're mirroring his expression. You’re angry and tired as well. Definitely not as tired as him but still tired. “You’re acting as if I didn't have a good reason to run.” you petulantly cross your arms, akin to a child not getting a toy from the store.

Leon wasn’t delusional. Back in the day, when he was a rookie cop, in some aspects he was delusional. However, as the years continue to pass so does his past self. Leon understands what he has done to you is inhumane, but he can’t help it. He kept you locked away for a reason. You won’t get hurt with him by your side.

Leon sighs, closing his eyes and leaning closer with his forearms on the table. “I know, I know.”

You tilt your head, “really? So, why are you mad at me?”

His eyes open, displaying icy-blue orbs. They hold Empathy in them. Empathy Leon has a difficult time communicating to you.

“I keep you in the house for your safety.” He began, taking your hands into his own. “To keep our relationship safe.”

“But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

“I know.”

“So why are you forcing me to stay with you?!”

Leon’s hands squeezed yours, provoking a cry out of you. “All my life I’ve been a generous man. I saved many and gave up my life for others. I’m always providing for someone else and rarely caring for myself. And the one thing I yearn for to the point I was convinced I deserved it. It was you.”

For a beat, he ceases his gabbing. Leon stares down at your connected hands, his thumb starts rubbing against the back of your hand. It’s a domestic act that earns your displeasure.

“For once, allow me to be selfish,” he mumbles, eyes slowly trailing up to meet yours. His lips press your hand, giving it a chaste kiss. “You’re the only thing I’ll fight to keep for myself.”

Part of you wishes the relationship was normal. Leon truly did care for you, and you still cared for him, But he did something unforgiving. He took away your free will.

“...you can’t just steal a person, Leon. You can’t expect me to love you.”

“I don’t.”

“So why won’t you let me go? You still have Ada, don’t you? You were more into her than me. Why isn’t she in my position?”

“Because I love you, not her. You haven't betrayed me. Well, not until now.” he jokes, letting out a faint chuckle.

Leon pulls out his wallet, his fingers sliding through the pockets to find his card. “Wrap your food up. We’re leaving.” he puts his wallet back in his back pocket, “Be right back. Stay here.” he commanded sternly.

The waitress is at the bar, cleaning the counter with a blue rag. Leon approaches her with an “Excuse me.”

Leon put too much faith in you because you were on your feet immediately when his back was turned. You quietly inched towards the door and ever so slowly dragged the door inwards. Leon was distracted, the waitress deciding she’d flirt with him despite seeing you and him together. You manage to slip through the door before Leon notices your second escape attempt.

You bolt out the door when you hear the enraged roar of your name from behind. You grip the railing to the stairs, running down them, tripping a couple of times. You don’t look but you know Leon’s on your tail. The door slams against the wall, the bell ringing loudly.

“Y/n, get back here!”

Amanda’s car was still parked by the gas pump. You sprint towards it, slipping through the tight space of the car and the gas pump. Luckily for you, Amanda was in the car, applying her strawberry-pink lipstick.

“Amanda!” you shout, startling her enough that she drags the lipstick across her cheek. She shouts, frightened by your sudden appearance. She looks at you, like you're crazy. She says your name to clarify the person at her window, “What are you doing.”

You shake your head, “yo-you gotta help me, he-” you say breathlessly.

“Hey, Amanda.” you hear Leon’s voice call out. Unlike you, he isn’t out of breath. Thanks to his military training. Amanda peeks her head out the window, she smiles waving at Leon. “Hey, Lee!”

Your eyes widen till it’s physically impossible to widen anymore. She knows Leon. Your body feels numb as you watch them interact like old friends. You feel like you aren’t real at the moment. Like you're watching the scene unfold outside your body.

“Sorry, she just came back from the hospital. She isn’t in her right mind right now.” Leon excuses, leading you to his car like a shepherd's dog guiding the sheep to its pen.

Amanda nods as she understands completely. “No worries, I’m just glad I found her before she hurt herself.”

Leon puts you in the passenger seat and closes the vehicle door. The keys lock the door from the inside, so you are left choiceless.

Leon joins you in the driver’s seat, definitely too angered to chide you. He seethed quietly, powering on the engine with the quick twist of the car keys.

Wordlessly, you buckle up. You wouldn’t make an endeavor to anger Leon any further.

You’d allow him to be selfish. Allow him to have you.

What other option did you have now?

#Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy x reader #yandere resident evil #resident evil #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #yandere themes #yandere writing #dilfartist

[d10nyx]

resident evil bot drop // character.ai

ft. leon kennedy and carlos oliveira (requests in italics)

cw: kidnapping, ddlg, obsessive behaviour, potential non-con(kidnapper leon, obsessed bsf's dad leon)

bot one: fae prince leon capturing a human princess

If there was one thing your father had always made abundantly clear to you, it was to make sure you stay away from the forest. Just because it was a neutral zone by name did not mean the fae could not lure you towards their territory. They were a cunning and powerful people - you'd stand no chance.

You'd wished you'd listened to him now. Your trip to the forest was meant to be some innocent fun. You'd always enjoyed exploration. The last thing you remember before blacking out was an overwhelming sense of tiredness that tended to appear out of nowhere before you were lifted into strong arms.

When you came to, you felt yourself surrounded by warmth. You opened your eyes, taking in the sight of an unfamiliar bedroom. Next to you was a man - no, his ears were pointed. A fae. Suddenly, fear takes ahold of your senses, leaving you frozen as you stare at him. Without even turning to look at you, he speaks up. "Haven't you been told staring is rather rude, princess?"

bot two: best friend's dad!leon likes you a little too much

Leon isn't sure when exactly his obsession developed. His daughter, Sherry, bought you home one day when she was off college - saying you were her dorm mate and new best friend. You were cute, sure, but he hadn't thought much of his initial attraction.

That was until you kept coming over. You were so sweet, this innocent aura surrounding you that was so rare to find in his life with his line of work. He tried to suppress the feeling, to bury it deep inside of him and ignore it like he did with everything else...

He couldn't help himself. His obsession felt like an itch, one he couldn't scratch without getting close to you. He started small, taking an item of clothing or two when you were staying over, something small you would think you'd misplaced. It escalated quickly to him watching you around his house, peeking through doors when you were changing.

It's getting to the point he recognises the way your perfume smells subconsciously, noticing the second you step into the kitchen with him without looking as his nose picks up your scent. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself before turning around, offering you a weak smile. "You couldn't sleep, sweetheart?"

bot three: ddlg with kidnapper!leon

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon asks as he approaches you after work. His hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

bot four: farmer!leon x chubby bunny!user

When Leon bought you, you were fully intended to be for his farm. You seemed sociable enough, so he had no worries about you getting on with the other bunny hybrids when he brought you back.

He hadn't expected that he'd be the issue. He found himself visiting you every day, drawn to your personality and pretty face. You were just so cute - all soft and round, your floppy ears always framing your face. It was always hard for him not to reach out and stroke them.

He really couldn't help himself. He hadn't had time to look for a partner with how much time he spends on the farm, and you seemed like you'd be the perfect little thing to cure his loneliness. So, one day when he's done with the work needed on the farm, he leads you into his home.

"C'mon, darlin'." He coos, his hand looped with yours as he leads you to the living room, a small smile on his face. He sits you down on the couch, rubbing behind one of your ears to soothe your nerves. "You're gonna be stayin' here with me, alright?"

bot five: leon's new therapy dog hybrid

Every mission weighs on Leon more than the last. He hasn't been the same since Raccon City, and every year seems to put more strain on him than the last.

He's getting older now. His line of work has never given him the opportunity to settle down and start a family - not that any girl would want a guy who drunk himself half to death so he could pass out every night and avoid the nightmares.

The last thing he expected his government given therapist to prescribe him with his government given paycheck was you. A cute, puppy hybrid to help him adapt to his retirement. An emotional support dog in a way. You seemed sweet, but he wasn't exactly sure how you were supposed to help him. At the very least, it was nice not to be alone all the time.

He sets up a little corner for you in the living room for now. He didn't have the energy to clear out the spare room, and he doubted you'd mind. He got you lots of toys, a comfy bed. Hopefully, everything you needed to be happy.

"Alright. C'mere, pup. This alright for ya?" He asks, gesturing you over towards him.

bot six: vendetta!leon with bimbo!user

Leon got used to knowing the bottom of the bottle more than what it was like to have friends or someone to come home to. His attempts at flirting tended to leave him either embarrassed or with a smack across the face, so he'd given up trying. Some people were cut out to be alone, and he was looking to be one of them.

When you approached him at the bar, you were seriously hot. There wasn't much going on upstairs, but he didn't exactly expect to keep you around for long enough to have a conversation, anyway. Just someone to keep his bed warm for the night, and he'd never see you again.

Fate has a funny way of doing things, because he became completely enamoured with you. He was the definition of whipped, his eyes practically heart shaped when he looks at you. He loved watching you get ready(although the man really never thought it was possible to own that many pink clothes) and he was quick to dish out money whenever you needed your acrylics or eyelash extensions done.

You were a pain sometimes, but he was happy you were his girlfriend. He wouldn't want anyone else to come home to after a tough mission or long day at work - even if you left your makeup scattered on his bathroom counter and took up most of the space in his wardrobe.

"Angel," he says with a sigh, moving to sit next to you on the sofa. His arm drapes itself loosely around your shoulders, his eyes scanning your face. He lets out a huff of air, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Baby... I'm so tired."

bot seven: mafia husband!leon wants a baby

Leon has never enjoyed lying to you, no matter how necessary it was. His heart aches, knowing he has to lie about where he is every day, to keep his life entirely secret from you. But he needs you to be safe, he doesn't want you to spend your days worrying about whether he'll make it home alive or not - he couldn't imagine putting you through that kind of stress.

He makes sure he knows you're safe at all times. Only the most trusted of his men are permitted to take care of you. He has them watching your every move, making sure they're as close to you as they can be without alerting you of their presence. He has enemies, and he would not like to think what would happen if they tried to get to him by harming you.

As always, before he returns home after a long day, he scrubs the blood from his skin. Changes his shirt to make sure there isn't a stain he hasn't seen yet. He can't bring you into his life, no matter what. You were too sweet, too pure for the world. He couldn't imagine how you'd look at him if you knew...

He sighs in relief once he sees the door to the home, his body relaxing as he pushes it open and notices nothing is out of place. You're safe. Something in Leon always changes when he sees your face. The hard lines of his face fade, his gaze softening as he walks through the door and sees you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts. You look so beautiful that he feels his heart swell. He can't help but imagine how beautiful you'd look as a mother, a thought that'd been playing constantly in mind recently.

He dips his head down as he reaches the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck as his large hands come to rest on your shoulders. "Ciao, mia cara. You look beautiful today."

bot eight: hybrid owner carlos

You'd only been living with Carlos for a few weeks and he was already entirely smitten with you. He'd already bought you more than a few collars in your favourite colour. You had your own room filled with more toys than you'd ever seen before in your life coupled with your own bed, but he still let you curl up with him every night.

It didn't matter what you wanted - it was yours. You didn't even need to ask. If your eyes so much as lingered on something for more than five seconds, he'd already bought you ten of them.

He's always so excited to come home to you. Honestly, he's probably more excited to see you than you are to see him. As he walks through the door to his apartment and spots you, a huge grin overtakes his face. He kneels down, opening his arms wide for a hug. "C'mere, pretty girl. Gimme some love."

#nyx bots #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #character.ai #c.ai bot #character ai bot

[sweetcollywobbles]

MAMA'S GIVIN' Y'ALL A SNACK | yandere! leon kennedy x reader (snippet)

i feel so bad for not really posting any sort of content, so im giving y'all a bit of the smut i'm working on. please let me know what y'all think of this snippet, any sort of feedback would be really nice!

🔞 AGELESS BIOS & MINORS FUCK OFF! 🔞

the you/your pronouns are only temporary, they will be changed to she/her pronouns.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

sometimes you hated your body. more specifically, the way your body reacted to situations. recently, your body has been making you feel a type away about waking up wrapped in leon's big arms. a type of way that left you daydreaming about your kidnapper in lewd situations.

sometimes it was about leon's pretty hands, how they would feel caressing and grabbing at your soft skin. or about how much prettier they would look playing with your wet heat. sometimes it was about them being wrapped tightly around your neck until you're begging for air. or about leon using his strong arms to hold you down to the bed as he fucked you from behind, ruthless and unforgiving.

god, you were needy. so undescribably needy. and today was no different.

it was saturday morning, which meant leon had the day off and was getting ready to head to the gym with someone named 'chris'. you sat on the bed and watched as he bumbled on and on about how this 'chris' guy was a "good buddy", but you couldn't really care. not when he was standing there in a black compression shirt and joggers that hugged him oh so right.

you feared you were no better than a man. completely objectifying your kidnapper in the lewdest scenarios your mind could come up with while he droned on about whatever. legs pinching together as a natural reaction to appease your growing heat with a bit of friction.

you sat there, blank stare going nowhere. wondering what would happen if you asked him to stay. to cancel his plans, stay here and fuck you senseless until it was-

"———, are you alright?"

the familiar voice snapping you back to reality. "what?"

"i asked if you were alright."

caught, red handed.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

again, i am no writer. this is all for shits and giggles.

xx

#yandere leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #dark leon kennedy

[ashiemochi]

im not sorry for the person im going to become this summer

im wet.

#never have i ever screamed so loud #ID! Leon but grown up?? #im SOLD #screaming and sobbing and crying and punching the walls and heaving for air #this man #THIS VERSION IN PARTICULAR #this is going to be the death of me when it comes out #DI! Leon?? new obesession #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy thirst hours #Resident Evil Death Island

[demifiendrsa]

Resident Evil: Death Island - Official Teaser Trailer

Teaser poster

Synopsis

D.S.O. agent Leon S. Kennedy is on a mission to rescue Dr. Antonio Taylor from kidnappers, when a mysterious woman thwarts his pursuit. Meanwhile, B.S.A.A. agent Chris Redfield is investigating a zombie outbreak in San Francisco, where the cause of the infection cannot be identified. The only thing the victims have in common is that they all visited Alcatraz Island recently. Following that clue, Chris and his team head to the island, where a new horror awaits them.

#Resident Evil Death Island #RE Death Island #Resident Evil movie #Resident Evil #Quebico #TMS Entertainment #Sony Pictures #film #anime #anime film

[lemmesquishleonskennedy]

Infected but not Leon s Kennedy

Listen ok my guy was infected for a solid 3 days (in the remake i think) there’s no way he wasn’t affected by it at all after.

So fortunately he didn’t transform but he did experience other bodily changed features

he can unhinge his jaw, he almost never does it but he can

his vocal structure was altered as well, he can now make ‘plaga’ noises as well as mimic a whole lot of different noises a human can’t.

the only time he ever used these traits on purpose was once when he got kidnapped and needed to do something to give him time to think of an escape so he bit his kidnapper and made him believe he was infected

he was also taller and thinner than he was when he left for spain, only by an inch but he was considerably lighter like his body had become made for speed and agility

He’s faster than he was and can also jump higher

not many people know about these change’s except for ashley, hunnigan, sherry (they bonded over it), ada and rebecca

rebecca only because she wanted to take blood samples from everyone after new york and he was like oh no if u give my blood to people no so good things will happen

this is short asf 😭 if i come up with anymore i’ll make another post but for now this is it

#leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #infected leon kennedy

[cupidscrule]

GEGGEGE NEW FANFIC!! Leon kidnapps you !!1!1

Tw noncon + drugs + past trauma

Poorly written short smut lol

"Honestly Leon you really are impressive, lucky guy" Chris had always said, lucky? Really, is that the fucking word to describe someone with a crippling alcohol addiction and depression. Yeah, lucky. Leon Scott fucking Kennedy, the lucky guy. Got stuck in raccoon city, lost all his friends, chasing after a girl who won't EVER come back. Ain't he just the DEFINITION of lucky, hell he got forced to work for the government ain't that just lucky. No love life, never being able to sleep without thinking someones gonna kill him, yeah, lucky. It didn't matter anymore, he knew Chris wouldn't get it, hell no one understood. Claire, Jill, even little rebbeca they all just sucked it up, they saw horrible things, went through so much but they just pushed through. Not Leon though, not little old Leon, he couldn't suck it up, he couldn't just look the other way.

Lucky man Leon, Leon s fucking Kennedy luckiest man alive, had no one, other then the men twice his size at boot camp, and well just say that wasn't pleasant when you're soft and pretty. He was alone, until today. It was a late night, he was just walking through the dim lit streets looking up and down the alleys, he had nothing to do in Washington. What go to the white house and  suck up grahm? Fuck no, so he just walked, he walked everywhere, seemed to calm him in some weird way. He was lost in his throughts just feet moving without him asking them too, just dragging along side. Until he stopped, and noticed you , a nice looking girl, standing by a building talking to someone on the phone. "Dad- no I don't need anything else- hey com'on pa don't buy me anything else. I'm serious I'm fine- ah okay- Bye I love you too!" She was speaking, geez what woman would think it's smart to just stand out In the middle of fuck no where late at night. Leon was just gonna walk past you but something just snapped, you were beautiful - like he means BREATH TAKING, beautiful long hair, thin waist, pouty lips, hell you were wearing a cute ass fluffy white coat and white matching boots, who wouldn't fall for you? Leon just stopped walking, just started at you as he thought, thought what to do with you , 'Just walk away' 'no she's too pretty to let go' 'fuck' 'i need her.'

His mind landed on the last one, y'know no hard feelings but he couldn't just let his sleeping beauty slip past him like her , fuck no. But he didn't really know what to do "Hey I've been watching you wanna go back to my place and fuck?" Of course not, that's the creepiest thing to say- well not that Leon wasn't creepy but yknow he didn't want you to freak out and be all confused. Actually no that's a lie, he didn't fucking care how you feel, he just wanted to take your stupid little body back home, y'know for safe keeping. Fuck it, I'm just gonna grab you, only problem. I don't fucking have ANYTHING, what just knock her out? Don't wanna kill her, thad be no fun now would it. Fuck think fast Leon before she starts walking away, you seemed pretty small, and if he had gone up against tyrants you'd be no problem. THAT'S IT, just choke her out, good job Kennedy. Finally thinking of something, just walk up to her, put his hand over your mouth and choke you out, rough, but hey it's fine.  Not that really matters what happens to you not like he cares.

And thats how you ended up duck taped and tied together in a basement, a dim light just like on the street. Your clothes removed, pretty little mouth also taped shut. PANIC all you felt was panic. Frantically squirming around like a scared cat, a muffled scream for help, which wasn't a good idea. Because that's when he realized you were awake, huh didn't last very long. Honestly thought you'd be out faster, Leon had thought, already relaxed as if he didn't just kidnap a college girl, lucky girl you are. He unlocked the basement door, walking down. He was wearing a nice black shirt and baggy jeans, y'know at least you weren't kidnapped by an ugly guy, but that's besides the point. He came walking down the concrete steps, it was an unfinished basement so it was pretty ugly, no bugs thankfully just dark and dull. A small tv was in the corner, some boxes just collecting dust, a little bathroom, to be honest it was pretty good it could be like a little home. Or at least bedroom. Back to the point, you looked up with tears in your eyes, confused, scared, why you? Why did it have to be you? What did you do? Well nothing, in all reality you just got unlucky that's funny, you're whole life was luck, now your confined in rope and tape wearing nothing but panties in some guys basement. Leon rips the tape off your little mouth, tossing it to the side. Tears still staining your roesy cheeks you muffle out a pathetic sentence "w-what are you doing" stuttering and blabbering. Jeez nothings even happened yet, acted like a fucking moran, already crying? How are you a grown adult, can't even handle dick from someone?

It didn't matter, really nothing did in this moment, Leon didn't respond just stared at you, as if he was judging you for being a baby. Before knocking you out again, it was his first time kidnapping someone so he wasn't gonna just be good at it- but hey he tried. Grabbed some sleeping aids from the bathroom cabinet Doxepin or something weird, wasn't the type to look at the label just prayed it would fucken work and not kill you, the hell he's gonna do with a lifeless corpse, listen he's weird but not THAT weird. Eh enough with the small details, leon was getting inpatient. He untied your sleeping body, flipping you over onto your stomach, face down ass up. Leon's personal favorite position, simple, easy, effective. pushed your white panties to the side, he didn't bother with taking them off too fucking lazy, but back to the point, no need for him to just stare and think about how fucking lazy he is with this shit. He unzipps his pants, damn it's been a while since Leon's been in control, pulling someones hair, him being the dominant one. Choosing your fate, he slams into your dripping cunt, fuck you were nice, fat ass nice tits, grabbing your hips and thrusting in. Maybe life was worth livin now, he nipped at your neck, slamming in an out. He liked it rough, and it's not your unconscious body could care, fuck you didn't even know you were getting a sweet piece of that Kennedy dick, you were drugged out of your mind, limp body hitting into his, no reaction to him roughing you up. Kinda cute, helpless, well more unknowing but who cares about specifics?

Moving on he was still pounding into your dripping your hole, fuck you were hot, he was on the edge of cumming, damn you were tight. Such a nice fucken pussy, with one more thrust his seed leaked into your tight little hole, pulling out the sticky white substance leaking down your pretty little thighs, fucken miracle by god you didn't wake up. By all means that wouldn't have made Leon stop, hell he would've loved it even more. Jesus Christ though afraid he killed you, whatever just means he doesn't have to try and keep you hidden, not like anyone would suspect Mr Kennedy of anyone? Leon Kennedy the man who saved the presidents daugther? Kennedy the one who takes it up the ass like a good boy? Leon with the pretty little fuck face? Of course not, no, no Leon's the one who takes it like a goodboy he's not going around raping the girls in Washington.

But that's enough about Leon, to be honest he really didn't wanna kill you, but hey it doesn't matter. Well- it does but he doesn't care at the moment, just had a good fuck so he didn't have a care in the world, he put a shirt over you just incase you were y'know still alive and zipped up his pants getting the fuck out of there. A few hours went by, Leon didn't sleep, he can't sleep. He went down to check on you though, just to make sure you didn't actually croak, he was back in the right headspace, what the fuck was he gonna do with a dead body? Plus your pussy was too good to just die like that yeesh. He unlocked the basement door and walked down the steps again, however you weren't on the mattress on the floor?

No-no, you had woken up a few minutes before, hiding behind one of the concrete walls holding a piece of broken glass from the bathroom mirror, Jesus how the fuck did you pull that off so easily. Honestly you didn't have that much faith in yourself, your hands were a little bloody, y'know didn't really think it through- but hey all that matters is you have a shirt that barely covered your cunt, tear stained face and a dinky piece of glass that probobly couldn't do anything but hell you're trying.

"The fuck -?" Leon says looking around, before being cutoff by you running at him with your stupid little glass knife, much to your surprise that does shit all and suddenly you're pressed against the wall, hands above your head with a man's leg between your thighs. Jeez you didn't think it would work that bad, y'know your plan wasn't that shitty. Wait for him to get close enough and start swinging, a flawless plan I do say, if we ignore the unpredictable factors but hey who fucken cares about that?

Oh yeah but back to fact at hand you're pinned against a wall by a man twice your size practically nude crying with blood running down your hand, hell aren't you the lucky girl now? Lost your family, friends, probably gonna die in the cold, alone or be killed. Lucky lucky girl, got that Kennedy dick and Kennedy treatment, every girl's dream isn't it? "Woah short stuff the fuck were you trying to do?" He says releasing your hands and backing away from you, his arms crossed giving you a look of disapproval, catching your breath, you don't even say anything just pant and stare.

Well until a pathetic "why" leaves your smudged lips. Pulling the shirt down trying to cover your leaking pussy.

"I'm such a lucky fucking guy."

#cupidscruel🍡 #leon kennedy #leon smut #fanfic #rapekink #poorly written shit #ptsd #trauma #Spotify

[d10nyx]

resident evil masterlist

leon s. kennedy:

slice of heaven (sad!leon x reader)

silver lining (older!leon x puppy!reader)

can't speak (leon x bratty!reader)

sneaking out of heaven (leon x pastor's daughter!reader) part one, part two, tbc

addicted to hurting (mean!leon x coworker!reader)

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

chris redfield:

nothing's complicated if we pretend (dbf!chris x reader)

sweet girl // sunflower (ddlg w/ chris x reader)

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

[dark content below]

leon s. kennedy:

can't fight this feeling (pervy stepbro! leon x reader) part one, part two tw: stepcest, non-con, dub-con

are you lonely? (real dad!leon x reader) tw: incest, dub-con

sweet creature (wolf!leon x bunny!reader) tw: dub-con

meant to be yours (leon x obsessive!reader) tw: self-mutilation, cannibalism

i apologise if you feel something (dark re2 leon x reader) tw: abuse, non-con

don't hold your breath(nobody's home) (uncle!leon x reader) tw: incest, non-con, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism

teacher's pet (professor!leon x bratty!student) tw: student/teacher, dub-con

over again (kidnapper!leon x reader) tw: forced ddlg, kidnapping, past drugging

drabbles

#resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #ada wong #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #masterlist #chris redfield x you #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield smut

[hidingoutbackstage]

Accessible description of Death Island btw (since I’ve only seen people screenshotting the description so far)

D.S.O. agent Leon S. Kennedy is on a mission to rescue Dr. Antonio Taylor from kidnappers, when a mysterious woman thwarts his pursuit. Meanwhile, B.S.A.A. agent Chris Redfield is investigating a zombie outbreak in San Francisco, where the cause of the infection cannot be identified. The only thing the victims have in common is that they all visited Alcatraz Island recently. Following that clue, Chris and his team head to the island, where a new horror awaits them.

#sid rants #resident evil #resident evil death island

[acrossthecherriverse]

Meet the OC:

Cherri Evelyn Hawthorne

Universe: Resident Evil (Remake timeline)

Age: 14 (1998), 20 (2004)

Pronouns: She/Her

Love interest: Leon Scott Kennedy (Ship name: Cheon)

Relationship tropes: Sun x moon, colleagues to lovers, age gap

Occupation: USSTRATCOM agent (2002-2011), DSO agent (2011-)

Height: 154 cm/5'1 (1998), 163 cm/5'4 (2004)

Weapon of choice: M24 rifle, SR M1903 rifle, Punisher handgun

Character playlist (Spotify)

Biography:

Cherri Evelyn Hawthorne was born on September 18th, 1984 in Memphis, Tennessee to parents Michael and Lisa Hawthorne. In 1988, at age 4 her family moved to Valencia, Spain due to her father's work. Michael Hawthorne worked for Umbrella Europe under Team 6, along with researcher Luis Serra Navarro. Her mother worked as a nurse at the local hospital.

In 1994, when Hawthorne was 10 years old, she and her mother moved back to the USA, to Raccoon City, Colorado, while her father stayed in Spain. The reason for Raccoon specifically was Umbrella’s influence over the area. At the time she attended Raccoon Elementary School, and befriended Emma Kendo, acting as an older sister figure and best friend to her. Her mother found work as a nurse in the Spencer Memorial Hospital. Her father visited them for only a week or so at a time every few months, at the time working on the Nemesis Project.

On September 25th, when Raccoon Elementary School shut down due to the T-virus outbreak, she became isolated in her own home with her father. Lisa didn't return home from work that night, informing Michael through the phone that she is stuck in the hospital, tending to infected patients, both of them deciding to keep Cherri in the dark about it just in case.

Hawthorne stayed mostly in her bedroom with the blinds down as instructed by her father, occasionally leaving to play video games, until the events of September 29th, documented in the Raccoon City Tapes.

Post-Raccoon, she was sent to a military boarding school under close supervision of the government, her survival of the massacre being seen as extraordinary and worth looking into.

She was coerced into joining the same government program as Leon S. Kennedy at age 18 in 2002. It is mentioned that they vaguely knew each other for the two years before Ashley’s kidnapping, but Leon didn't recognize her from Raccoon City.

On November 2nd, 2004 Hawthorne was sent together with Kennedy to a remote village in Spain to investigate president Graham's daughter’s disappearance, due to both of them being the only ones not being investigated for cooperation with the kidnappers. Leon, because of his close relationship with the president and Cherri, because she was still under close supervision. The rest of the mission is (will be) documented in a Resident Evil 4 (Remake) spin-off fanfiction :3

Random facts and info:

the scar under her left eye is from the double garrador fight before the throne room

knows english, spanish tried to get Leon to teach her italian (failed miserably)

learns and picks up things very quickly

she works best with long-range weapons like sniper rifles

adopted an orange cat with Leon, thought it was a male, named him Vincent only to later notice the lack of balls (her name is still Vincent)

started cutting Leon's hair after getting together because hates going to the hairdresser

at some point between raccoon city and stratcom she started considering dropping out and becoming a merc sniper (teenage angst stuff)

definitely puts stickers on her motorola flip phone

has a beetle-shaped keychain (won by Leon at the shooting range in Spain)

speaking of, has more keychains than actual keys

christmas is her fav holiday, five seconds after halloween ends she's already hanging mistletoe and singing last christmas

probably uses strawberry scented no tears disney princess shampoo (Leon probably accidentally used it at least once)

keeps her hair rather short because in raccoon city when she had a long braid it got caught on something and she almost died

I didn't put it in any fic but she definitely sang that 99 bottles of beer song on the way to valdelobos in the car w Leon

definitely went on an aquarium date with him at some point

at least one

basically cannot drive, used to commute to and from work but now she just hitches rides with Leon for the low price of three kisses per ride

definitely bought him a cat ear headband as a joke but he does wear it sometimes when his hair falls into his face

modern au she'd watch those TikTok episodes of family guy with the asmr videos underneath for hours bcs she doesn't even realize

sometimes when she's in a hurry accidentally puts on Leon's shoes and looks like that amongus drip meme

forgets the word recoil and calls it knockback like in minecraft

can't have too much sugar she WILL jump on walls

calls people slurs in cod lobbies

fav game is silent hill or mortal kombat

can barely cook but Leon can barely cook too so when they cook together they become like gordon ramsey it's just math

(cook together aka Leon cooks Cherri sits on the counter and looks pretty)

Gallery:

#| cheon #resident evil oc #re4 oc #oc #writing tumblr #resident evil #leon kennedy x oc #oc content #re4 #| meet the OC

[kennedysharper]

RESIDENT EVIL: DEATH ISLAND | NEW CGI MOVIE ANNOUNCED

Death Island is a new CG animated film and sequel to Resident Evil: Vendetta, expected to release during summer (northern hemisphere) 2023.

Official description:

D.S.O. agent Leon S. Kennedy is on a mission to rescue Dr. Antonio Taylor from kidnappers, when a mysterious woman thwarts his pursuit. Meanwhile, B.S.A.A. agent Chris Redfield is investigating a zombie outbreak in San Francisco, where the cause of the infection cannot be identified. The only thing the victims have in common is that they all visited Alcatraz Island recently. Following that clue, Chris and his team head to the island, where a new horror awaits them.

Directed by Eiichiro Hasumi and screenplay by Makoto Fukami.

#resident evil #resident evil death island #RE:DI #just trying to make a normal post about it to gather info #BUT NOW IT'S BRAINROT AND KEYSMASH MODE ONLY #ASDFADFHADKFHAKDHFALDF #Youtube

[agentnico]

Resident Evil: Death Island (2023) Review

Two Resident Evil projects in one year?? Well then, Capcom really is tickling my guilty pleasures recently. The Resident Evil 4 game remake was nothing short of stupendous and proved how game remakes/remasters should be handled (looking at you Rockstar Games). Now we have a new RE 3D anime release that follows the Infinite Darkness Netflix mini-series from a few years back. Hopefully a 2 for 2 for Capcom this year?...

Plot: D.S.O. agent Leon S. Kennedy is on a mission to rescue Dr. Antonio Taylor from kidnappers, when a mysterious woman thwarts his pursuit. Meanwhile, B.S.A.A. agent Chris Redfield is investigating a zombie outbreak in San Francisco, where the cause of the infection cannot be identified. The only thing the victims have in common is that they visited Alcatraz Island recently. Following that clue, Chris and his team head to the island, where a new horror awaits them.

So evidently the most significant selling point of Death Island is that it is the first proper time it teams up the five main recurring characters of the RE franchise - Chris, Jill, Claire, Rebecca, and everyone's favourite rookie cop Leon S. Kennedy (one must mention the S.). Yes, some of these characters paired up during the infamous Resident Evil 6 - though the less said about that game the better. Regardless, Death Island finally gives us the whole team united! See this as an Avengers-level team-up movie for the Resident Evil universe. In a nutshell, this is a big moment for RE fans around the world. So Capcom better not do a Marvel Phase 4 & 5 and betray their fans' trust, right??

Resident Evil: Death Island seems like a missed opportunity. It had all the pieces that could have come together to create something truly special, however, instead the final result is a bit lazy. Don't get me wrong, if you're a fan of Resident Evil, and to be fair if you are not a fan of RE then neither this movie nor review should be interesting to you as this really is a feature-length piece of fan service. As I was saying though, as an RE fan, there is plenty to enjoy. The zombies are gory and vile; the lickers are back being as horrible as ever - I am so glad I was not holding the controller this time. Seeing our heroes together was of course entertaining, with stand-outs being Jill and Leon. I don't believe we have ever seen Jill in this badass form. She kicks ass more so than she's ever done in the games, and then Leon as per usual throws around some absolutely hilarious quips and one-liners, reminding us all why he is one of the franchise's favourites. Also must give props to the animation. We've come such a far way since the first time around when we saw our pixelated heroes enter that forsaken mansion. The computer graphics are honestly really sharp and impressive, with the creature designs, and especially during the action sequences with the use of slow motion there is some serious ass-kicking on display.

That being said, Death Island is missing something very key - emotion. I say this fully aware that we love RE for the horror and the cheesiness of it all but with all our main heroes in one movie I sort of expected to care more than I did. The thing is, the animation style of Death Island is not really capable of accurately conveying real human emotion, so wherever we have the quiet moments when we are having a break from the action, the dialogue between the characters and a scene involving the main villain exposing his convoluted plan of destruction in a slow and tedious manner comes off as really dull. Also, the premise is ridiculously simple. Our heroes go to Alcatraz (some old-school Call of Duty: Black Ops - Zombies vibes going on there). They fight some monsters, kill the main monster in the end and Bob's your uncle. There's hardly anything else to it. Speaking of the final creature they battle - the heroes look cool fighting it and apparently pulling our rocket launchers (obviously) and weapons of mass destruction out of butt-fudge nowhere, but alright, I'll just assume the Merchant from Resident Evil 4 was hiding behind one of the crates selling them some rare things for a high price. However, the creature itself, though it looked cool, did not do anything? It hardly fought back, just spent most of the time moving around slowly and staring our heroes down. Why? Like this is Resident Evil for crying out loud, we want to see our heroes kick butt of course but we also want to see the monsters fight back and be massive and intimidating. But nope, this dude just slithers around a little and takes it like a pu**y.

So the verdict. Resident Evil: Death Island certainly has its moments of entertainment, and of course seeing these legacy characters team up is wonderful, however, the movie lacks energy. When the action is there is bloody good fun, but there are too many breaks in between where characters talk and it's no fun. And yes, the endlessly monologuing baddie is a bore and his motivations? My gosh, what a wuss.

Overall score: 5/10

#movie reviews #film reviews #film #movie #resident evil #action #adventure #thriller #resident evil death island #animation #t virus #2023 #2023 in film #2023 films #cinema #resident evil death island review #capcom #sony #biohazard #horror #eiichiro hasumi #matthew mercer #nicole tompkins #kevin dorman #stephanie panisello #erin cahill #daman mills

[geekcavepodcast]

Resident Evil: Death Island Teaser Trailer

Sony Pictures has released a teaser for the upcoming CG animated film Resident Evil: Death Island. “D.S.O. agent Leon S. Kennedy is on a mission to rescue Dr. Antonio Taylor from kidnappers, when a mysterious woman thwarts his pursuit. Meanwhile, B.S.A.A. agent Chris Redfield is investigating a zombie outbreak in San Francisco, where the cause of the infection cannot be identified. The only thing the victims have in common is that they all visited Alcatraz Island recently. Following that clue, Chris and his team head to the island, where a new horror awaits them.” (Sony Pictures Entertainment)

Resident Evil: Death Island releases in Summer 2023.

#resident evil death island #resident evil #sony pictures #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #capcom #TGCLiz