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#resident evil fanfic
naturesapphic · 2 days
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Can you please do alcina having to punish her bratty little but Like her little was very overstimulated please and it's a comfort ending!! THANK YOUUUU
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Punishment
Mommy!lady dimitrescu x fem!little!reader
Warnings: spanking, hurt/comfort, soft mommy alcina
“No no no! I don wan baf!” You shouted as you stomped your feet down harshly. You’ve been acting bratty all day and alcina just had about enough of your attitude. She doesn’t understand why you’ve been acting like this but she needs to know why. “Come on princess. Be mommy’s good girl and take a bath. It won’t be long princess I promise.” She said softly as to help you calm down from your tantrum, but that didn’t seem to work. You got one of your rubber duckies and threw one at her chest.
Alcina was surprised at your actions and she didn’t want to be the bad guy but something must be done about your behavior. “That’s it little one.” She snarled and stood up and grabbed you by the arm, leading you to the bedroom the both of you shared. “Over my lap. Now.” She demanded and you shook your head no. “N-no please mommy! I-I’ll be a good girl please!” You begged her and she felt her heart break but you needed to be taught a lesson. “Don’t make me count to three.” She warned and you whimpered as you walked over to her and she bent you over her knee and started spanking you.
She spanked you ten times and made you count each of them. By the end of it you were crying and trying to get off her lap. She laid you on your stomach and went to get a cold washcloth to put on your reddened cheeks. “I’m sorry I had to punish you draga but you have been a very bratty girl today and I had to teach you a lesson. Now please tell mommy what’s going on. Mommy can’t help you if she doesn’t know what’s making you feel this way.” She said softly as she caressed your butt gently in a non sexual way. You couldn’t exactly explain why you were so ill today but you felt like this all day and you didn’t want to be a bratty girl but you just couldn’t help it.
“N-Nu feel good…u-up heres…”. You try to explain to your mommy and she’s trying to understand you. “Do you feel sad or mad?” She asked you and you said both. She thought for a moment more and said “do you feel irritated and feels like nothing is going right?”. You nodded your head and Alcina understood what was going on. You were overstimulated. That’s why you were irritated and restless today. “I understand now baby. It’s okay. Mommy is here. Why don’t we give you a bath right quick and put on our matching pjs on and I can read you some of your favorite books. How about that my little bat?” She asked you and you gently nodded, wanting to do those things and you wanted to be your mommy’s good girl again.
“Good girl.” Alcina said as she put you in the bath and let you play for a while before getting you out and drying you with your favorite fluffy towel. She put you in a little bat onesie and alcina put on her big bat onesie. You giggled happily and hugged her legs indicating that you wanted her to pick you up. She lifted you up in her strong arms and went back into the bedroom and went over to y’all’s book shelf’s to let you pick out your favorite books. Once you selected them, she laid you down on the bed and she got in next to you, letting you lay on top of her breast as she read to you until you fell into a deep sleep. She kissed your forehead gently and covered the both of you up. “Sleep well my little bat. Mommy loves you and she always will.”
A/n: I hope @yourcoolistjennifertillyfan enjoys this and I hope the rest of y’all enjoy it too! Requests are still open for all of my characters including of course Rhea ripley/Demi Bennett. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!
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cocomeshosho · 3 days
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slay ✨✨✨
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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year
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‘So…are you and Leon like, a thing?’ Ashley asked from beside you.
‘No. Just business partners.’ You replied shortly.
‘Could’ve fooled me.’ Luis said from your other side as you, him, Ashley followed after Leon’s lead through the harsh rainfall.
You cursed yourself for not wearing weather appropriate clothes and cursed yourself even more so when you felt a tickle within your nose that came out as a harsh sneeze.
‘Achoo!’
Leon stilled in his footfalls as he looked at you, Ashley and Luis from over his shoulder, eyes scanning between the three of you as though determining which one of you three has sneezed but stopped the internal deductions when his grey/blue hues halted on you.
Wordlessly, Leon removed his jacket and walked over to you where he then placed it over your shoulders, his hands lingering a little longer on your arms afterwards. ‘What’re you doing?’ You asked. ‘You were cold,’ he stated rather mater of factly, ‘so until you feel better, keep the jacket on.’
With that being said, Leon then returned to leading the journey fourth as Ashley and Luis both looked at you with teasing smiles and raised brows. ‘Oh shut up, it’s just a jacket.’ You muttered, tugging the article of clothing closer to your being as you walked on ahead of them and after Leon.
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ovaryacted · 6 months
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Rookie Mistakes
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Pairing: RE2!Leon x Sergeant fem!Reader
Summary: When Leon seems distracted and makes a mistake during a call, you ensure your rookie gets his head together as his sergeant.
Content/Warnings: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn with plot. Dom/sub elements. Femdom/msub. Praise kink. Slight degradation. Needy/subby Leon. Oral sex. Fingering. Handjob. Office Sex. Slight age gap (reader is older at around 25, Leon is 21).
WC: 4.7k
Notes: Finally this is out. I know I know, I'm a liar! But, I had fun with this one, so I hope you like it. Shoutout to the babe @cinnarette for beta reading this and giving me her approval lolz. Anyways, reblogs & comments are always appreciated!
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Leon had always been one to find the good in a shitty situation. Someone with a warm heart that matched the moral compass he developed despite the constant bullshit he experienced daily.
From his hectic childhood to his experiences in the police academy, he had to overcome many trials and tribulations on his own with nobody in his corner. All of those struggles to get the pure sense of relief once he felt his diploma in his hand made all the stress worth it.
When he first arrived at the R.P.D., he didn’t know what to expect. The anxiety of starting fresh in a new city with a new career clouded his mind with a paranoia he seemed to carry in his youth. Walking into the police department he’d call his new home, Leon was fairly surprised to be greeted with a welcome party.
Balloons and confetti filled the common room as he moved around the crowd, bombarded with introductions and greetings as he tried to memorize the names that were thrown his way. Still, the small games and blue cake he indulged in brought a smile to his face, topped off with the polka-dotted party hat he was forced to wear and the words Welcome Leon hung up on the ceiling for him to see.
What Leon didn’t expect was to be assigned to your personal detail the next day. A police sergeant on the force, a bit older, no more than 25 he first assumed, more refined and seasoned with one hell of a glare. First impressions? He was terrified, nervous as hell to fuck anything up seeing how you ran a tight ship, taking your job too seriously for comfort. Of course, you had to. You were working in a male-dominated field, forcing yourself into a mold so you could be taken seriously by those around you.
He took his hand out when being introduced to you, unstable grip and a nervous smile to match as he looked directly into your intimidating gaze. You shook his hand firmly, the strength of your grasp parallel with the small grin you offered him almost made a shiver roll down his spine.
“So you’re the new rookie huh? Well, it’s nice to see a fresh face in here. We have some serious work to do. Let’s get started.”
-
You were particular about how you wanted things done, very precise in your words and your delivery. A harsh leader, one who easily reprimanded the other rookie officers but was particularly picky with Leon. In a way, he started to feel like you were targeting him, pressuring him so he would crack and leave the force. He knew he couldn’t leave, that this was the career path he chose, and he was too anxious to say anything so he’d let it slide.
You didn’t let up on his training either, always making sure your rookie was on top of what was expected of him. The slight fear Leon had when first meeting you quickly turned into admiration. His stress-induced feelings morphed into respect, now wanting to learn everything you had to show him.
That was when it started. Leon now tried any little thing to get in your good graces, to see even the slightest sign of a smile or to hear you laugh. He started coming to work earlier to help with the case filings you had piled on your desk, organizing them the way you taught him whenever you assigned him grunt work. He wanted you to take a breather and start your day with a clear head, maybe even enjoy your coffee for a bit longer.
When you saw how tidy your work environment was, you went up to Leon who you saw was typing away at his desk diligently. His head lifted up to look at you, blue eyes glancing over your face to read your expression.
“Morning. By any chance, did you fix all the files on my desk?”, you asked curiously, making the blonde rub the back of his neck shyly.
“Yeah, I did. Wanted to help you out a bit and give you an early start to the day” he responded, silently hoping you wouldn’t be upset at him for entering your workspace. Instead, he was met with your look of genuine surprise, followed by a twinkle of gratitude.
“Thank you for that, I appreciate it. Keep up the good work Leon”, you praised him, offering a small smile, one that he made sure to burn into his memory.
“Yes ma’am”, his face was practically beaming at your words as he watched you walk back towards your office, trying to hide the sudden warmth flooding his cheeks.
Your words kept repeating in his head nonstop throughout the entire day. Not only did you acknowledge him in a positive light, you also addressed him by name, which was rare. He was more present at work, his posture straighter, and more eager to help. From that point on, he made it his mission to make sure his sergeant was stress-free, doing anything to see you smile at him again.
Working with Leon, you quickly learned that he was perceptive. A smart cookie, and probably the smartest one out of the current bunch of recruits. Despite the tough love you gave him, especially because he was your professional responsibility, he was the only one truly receptive to your teachings. Like a sponge, he took in everything you gave with a certain wonder you hadn’t seen in anyone else. It was cute really, how he was so ambitious and doing his best to get your approval.
What you liked the most about working with Leon was how he addressed you. He took your authority seriously, seeing someone in charge instead of your appearance. He didn’t say your name, not your first or last out of respect, but rather he always addressed you as Ma’am. You never had someone say that to you directly, thinking it makes you sound older than you actually are. But with the way his eyes warmed up when he’d say it with full confidence, you didn’t have it in you to tell him to stop.
-
Over the next few weeks, Leon became part of your daily routine, integral to the start of your day. He’d walk in a few minutes early as expected, with two coffee cups in his hands as he waited for you outside your office. Spotting the top of your head coming from speaking to the chief, you were heading his way. You had the same soft smile reserved just for him, one that he always looked forward to seeing when you worked together.
“Got you your usual”, he offered one of the cups to you, your fingers lightly grazing his when taking the warm concoction into your hand.
“Extra caramel?”
“With oat milk, vanilla and cinnamon. I triple checked”, he said enthusiastically, observing you as you sipped the drink. A soft hum escaped you while you closed your eyes in satisfaction.
“You know how to spoil me”, you gave him a wider smile now, seeing how his cheeks blushed the slightest bit at your expression. His reaction made you chuckle, a sound he’s come to enjoy the more time you two spent together. 
“Now come on, we need to work on this case before we patrol at 12. The chief’s on my ass again so let’s get this over with before lunch yeah?”, and without fail, he’d give you the same ending response every time.
“Yes ma’am”
The more you invested in Leon’s skills, the more you realized small things about him that were fairly telling. You weren’t stupid. Anyone with a brain could see that the respect and admiration he had for you was turning into something else entirely. You could tell with every passing moment you had with him, noticing how the tension between the two of you would get thicker after every interaction. You didn’t comment on it. Instead, you enjoyed toying with him, a part of your ego feeding off on how he’d say yes ma’am in such a way that would make you want to hear it more often.
The faint touches between the two of you got more frequent. Your fingers would brush his during the exchange of files, you saw how he’d always be within a hair’s distance when standing near you. Moments spent training in the shooting range were where the intimacy seemed to skyrocket, putting your hands on Leon’s arms to keep his form up as he shot towards his target.
You didn’t need to do that. Leon was a good shot, accurate too. But you enjoyed the way he released a shaky breath whenever you were close to him or touched him, how the tips of his ears reddened when you praised him for hitting the bullseye.
In one certain instance when the R.P.D. was extra busy, you were being hammered with files and administrative work. The coffee sitting on your desk was no longer doing its job of waking you up, and the constant bombardment of having to organize new information was starting to make your head pulse. You stood up from your seat to give your back a break, bending backward until you felt a satisfying crack in your spine. Hearing a knock at your door that brought your attention, you noticed Leon on the opposite end.
“Hey, my bad if I caught you at a bad time. The investigators wanted to review those files on that drug bust we did yesterday, something about missing information”
“Oh yeah yeah, it’s right behind me. Hell, I don’t even know where I put it”, you turned to face the mess behind you, lamenting at the stack of files you have yet to sort through today.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll look for it. You stay focused on what you’re doing”
Just like that, Leon came over behind you, going through the files while you stayed reading over the papers in your hand. The both of you made quick conversation, commenting on how busy it became. The increase of instances flooding the department only added more to your workload. Leon kept digging through the pile, turning his body to go to the other side of you.
In the process, he put a hand on your hip and muttered an apology, slightly making you jump and walking behind you to go to your left side. You tried to pay no mind to the gentle touch, going back to refocusing on the case at hand. He found the document folders he needed, suddenly too close to your body when the second he turned, you moved backward into him. Leon’s hips pressed against your rear, his hands reaching toward your hips instinctively despite the hitch in his breath at the contact.
“S-shit, I’m sorry…”, he mumbled, cheeks flushed red as he walked out of your office. You didn’t get a word in, but his reaction was enough to tell you about what you already knew.
The ghost of his touch filled your mind for the rest of the day, and it was worse for Leon. He tried so hard not to think about it. Not to fantasize about how your hips would feel bouncing against his with force, what you’d sound like when you’re aroused. It was practically impossible for him. His imagination went haywire the second he got home, jerking himself off to relieve the hard-on he’s been managing since earlier this afternoon.
He couldn’t get the image out of his head. He thought about how you’d praise him, call him a good boy for making you feel good. Deep down, he wondered if you were equally as authoritative in the bedroom as you were outside of it. As he released all over his hands with a whine, he sighed to himself, fully aware that he had reached the point of no return with his own thoughts about you. 
-
It was a Tuesday afternoon when both of you were assigned to handle two suspects committing a robbery. Called to the scene, you trailed them down to a nearby commercial street. They were careless too, throwing their guns halfway into the chase and the items they stole slipping from their grasp onto the concrete floor. Catching them felt easy, handcuffing one to the ground and throwing him to the backseat of your cop car. Leon seemed to be distracted, with what you didn’t know. When the second thief seemed to slip from his grasp and started to make a run for it, you knew he needed to get his act together.
“Get your head out of your ass Kennedy! Before I put my foot up there instead. Now move!”, you ordered him to get back into the patrol car. Turning on the police siren, you drove to track down the next suspect and apprehended them with quickness.
The drive to the station was quiet besides the two handcuffed men grumbling behind you. Leon kept his mouth shut, refusing to look your way, and focused on listening to the chatter on the radio. He knew you were pissed, and he didn’t know what had gotten into him today but he couldn’t focus for the life of him. The nagging voice in the back of his mind was telling him to be prepared for the worst, because he fucked up, and worse yet, he fucked up with you.
After bringing the two robbers down to the precinct, you couldn’t erase the irritation from your face. You couldn’t even look at Leon, upset that someone like him after so much training made such a rookie mistake. You only offered a glare, knowing for a fact you’d have to talk to him later on when your temper wasn’t so flared up. For now, you made Leon sit at his desk to do filing work, deciding not to berate him in front of the other officers and saving him the embarrassment.
Knowing you were giving him the silent treatment, he avoided you for the rest of the day, staying late at the R.P.D. in hopes of being able to talk to you. Leon drummed his fingers on his desk absentmindedly, until you came up behind him and got his attention.
“Kennedy, to my office. Now”, your tone of voice was harsh, making the hairs on Leon’s neck rise as he got up to follow you back to your workspace.
You locked the door once the both of you were inside, leaning back against your desk with your tactical belt off so your hips pressed against the wooden edge. Arms crossed over your chest, your head raised at the cop before you, watching his feet anxiously moving as he looked at the floor with slight shame.
“I want to know what happened out there. You messed up, and that’s not like you. You don’t make rookie mistakes anymore, we’re passed that”, you started to speak. Leon’s gaze was pinned on you, trying to hide his humiliation but it was clear as day.
“I know. I know I fucked up, it was a stupid mistake. I’m sorry”
“Yeah, it was. I didn’t invest all this time in training you personally for you to let things like this slip. You’re better than this, you know that”, your tone changed from irritation to concern, trying to get him to see the bigger picture.
“You’re my responsibility, Leon. I’m this harsh and this strict for a reason, and it’s because I care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t give a shit what happened to you, but I do. This reflects back on me, so just get your head together alright?”, you saw how his brows furrowed a bit in slight confusion at your confession.
You cared about him.
“Yes ma'am. It won’t happen again, I really am sorry”, his hands started to fumble with his tactical belt.
“I know you are, but sorry’s not gonna cut it. I can’t have you distracted like this. Not on my watch”, you said, now walking from the desk until you stood in front of him. He didn’t move a muscle, not knowing what else to do besides stand there.
“If you’re really sorry you’re going to have to prove it. You’re not getting off that easy. You got that rookie?”, your eyes held that intimidating stare that made Leon tense, you could practically hear him gulp. 
“I-I understand ma’am. Whatever it takes I’ll do it.”, he was still oblivious, having no idea what he just got himself into but he wasn’t complaining, not when you were this close to him. Your hand went up towards his belt, a singular finger curving into one of the loops to yank his body forward. Now standing chest to chest he shivered at the close contact, holding his breath and waiting for your next words.
“You’re gonna use your pretty mouth to prove that you won’t mess up like that again. Maybe if you’re good enough, I’ll think about being nice and rewarding you. That okay?”, your words were laced with pure temptation, making Leon nod, too scared to speak up. He didn’t know what to expect, but lord if he wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t enjoying it. 
“Use your words baby”
“Yeah, f-fuck it’s okay”, he was shaking in front of you, a blush on his cheeks so intense you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin.
“Can I kiss you?”, you tilted your head up towards him, his warm breath against your lips as the ends of your noses touched.
“Please do…”
You didn’t waste another second, lips colliding against his as Leon finally released the breath he was holding. He let you take control, his mind turning to complete mush at just the feel of your mouth against his. Tongues dancing together, you ran your fingers through his hair, his own hands going to paw at your hips. He released needy faint moans, holding on to you as if you were going to leave him any second now. When you pulled away from him and bit his bottom lip he whimpered, a sound you didn’t expect him to make. You fucking loved it.
You walked backward while he followed you on jittery legs. With your back now pressed against the desk again, Leon’s face dug into your neck, leaving a path of kisses in a way that made you chuckle. His hands were everywhere, overwhelmed with what to do or where to touch. You brought your fingers into his hair again, giving him a soft yank as he groaned out from the action. Pupils already dilated, you eyed him closely, how he seemed so far gone when you haven’t even started.
“You want to be good for me Leon?”, your voice was soft, almost patronizing and it only made Leon’s dick pulse in his pants.
“Yes, I wanna be good for you. Don’t want you mad at me”, Leon pouted, and you fought the urge to kiss him again.
“Then get on your knees and start working on your apology”, you commanded, watching how he bit his lip and nodded.
“Yes ma’am”, he was already shifting down to the ground, diligent fingers on the button of your cargos and undoing them, while you threw your shoes off.
Pulling the zipper down, he started to drag the fabric to your knees until it hit your ankles, pants discarded to the side and leaving you in your panties. Sitting on top of the desk, his eyes looked up at yours, coming face to face with where you wanted him most.
His large hands moved from your shin to your knee, then towards your thigh and hip to hook his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, noting the wet patch that was already staining the cotton material. He dragged them down with ease until they hung at your ankle, lifting one of your thighs onto his shoulders to admire all of you with a soft moan.
“Can I taste you? Please?”, he mumbled against your thigh with a soft kiss. He was already playing the part so well, offering him a smirk as you drank in the way he begged you for more. You didn’t even have you train him.
“Yeah baby, you can”
Without hesitation, his mouth made contact with your body, the taste of your wetness filling his tongue and making his chest rumble. It was better than he imagined, moving his tongue up and down against your slit to collect the developing slick. You released a low hum from your lips, already pent up from the stress of your job and your day, now having your favorite rookie tending to you on your orders.
Leon was anything if not keen, tongue lavishing against your throbbing clit and his lips circling around it as he began to suck. You threw your head back at that, hand holding his head in place and hips moving towards him shamelessly. He was grunting under his breath, growing obsessed with the way your body twitched anytime he touched you just right. 
“You’re doing so good Leon, so damn good for me”, you praised him again, feeling the sounds he’d release when you did talk to him. It was debauched, how his senses were filled with just you with no end in sight.
This was how you wanted to see him. On his knees and eager to please.
His attention went back to your opening, feeling it flex around nothing with every flick he gave you. Inserting his tongue into your cunt, your hips arched towards him again, moaning louder than you anticipated.
You were silently thankful your office was a bit farther away from the rest of the department, and being it was later at night, you didn’t have to hide much of anything. You moved Leon’s face closer to your body with a pull of his head, clit pressed against his nose as he sucked at your essence greedily, taking in everything he could get. 
A warmth started to develop in your gut, pleasure like liquid fire making your body twitch. The high you so desperately craved was in near sight, grinding yourself against Leon’s face and using him to get off. He didn’t object, moving his mouth to suck at your clit again, two fingers teasing your entrance before inserting them inside. You cursed under your breath, the dual sensation of Leon’s fingers curling against your g-spot and his consistent sucking brought you closer to your much-needed climax.
“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum”, you could almost taste your release right at the edge of your tongue, could imagine the way it would feel to finally let go.
You looked down to watch Leon at work, how he’d pump his fingers at just the right pace, how his eyes grew hazy with pleasure when they looked up at you.
With one soft nip at your clit your release hit you full force, a small squeal leaving your lips as your gummy walls clenched around his fingers. Your grip on the desk and his hair were both tight, knuckles turned white as stars filled your vision. Leon kept moving his fingers and mouth the whole way through your orgasm, groaning loudly against you and refusing to stop. He couldn’t get enough of you or your taste, forcing you to pull his head away before the overstimulation made it too much to handle.
The both of you were panting, eyes widening when Leon pulled his digits away and inserted them into his mouth to lick off what remained of you. You pulled him up towards his feet, dragging him down to kiss you again and chasing your own taste that flooded his tongue. If you weren’t on a time crunch, you would’ve gladly let him go down on you again.
“Did I do good ma'am? Do you feel good?”, Leon asked, thumbs rubbing your trembling thighs as you came down from your high, flushed face waiting for your approval.
“Yes, you were so fucking good for me. You ate my pussy so well”, your words made him smile then, a dopey lopsided grin that seemed to ease his doubts from earlier.
“I think you deserve a little reward now. You want some help with that pretty boy?”, your eyes gestured to the tent in Leon’s pants, looking up at him from your long lashes.
“God, please touch me”, he begged then, blue eyes engulfed in pure lust.
You didn’t want to tease him any longer, undoing his pants and slipping your hand inside. With a gasp he felt your fingers wrapping around his cock that pulsated with need, knowing it wouldn’t take him long to cum either. He had been on the edge for too long, imagining you like this for what seemed like months. You pumped him, twisting your wrist and pressing your thumb against his slit, feeling the precum that was already making a mess in his briefs. 
“You get hard when you have your superior’s pussy in your face huh? You like being used like that baby?”
“Y-yes, yes I do. God I fucking love it”, he nodded dumbly. “Love the way you taste, the way you feel…”, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, mind so blurred with just you that he was losing track of time and himself.
You smirked, kissing his neck and pressing your lips against the mole on his throat. Leon swallowed, hands pressing into your thighs for stability but he was so close to losing it. He thrusts his hips up into your hand, chasing his own high and you gladly let him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and biting at the lobe. The sounds Leon released were downright pornographic, whines and lewd wet sounds filling your office. 
“S-shit I’m gonna cum. Can I cum? Please ma'am, I’m so close”, he begged again, his cock throbbing and hot in your hand as he spoke. He bucked his hips more into your squeezing fingers, your pace picking up as you jerked him off more persistently. He felt like he could barely breathe, the prickly feeling in his lower spine getting more prominent the closer he got to his orgasm.
“Be a good boy and cum for me Leon. I want to see you cum baby”, it was your final order, and those words alone were his undoing.
His body shook above you when he fell over the edge, his lower stomach flexing hard as he came all over your fingers. He cursed and whimpered, an array of thank yous were said against your neck, hands pressed into your thighs hard enough to bruise your skin. His cum dribbled out of him as his body jerked, still pumping him to the point of sensitivity. He clutched your wrist to signal you to stop, half-lidded eyes looking at yours that filled with mischief.
You took your hand off of him and licked the remaining fluids, purring at the taste of him filling your mouth. Leon bit his lip when watching you, already starting to feel his dick twitch again for more.
He leaned down towards you, kissing you hard and chasing his taste, just like how you did with him. The eroticness of it all overwhelmed him, rasping against you as you pulled away. You looked over his face, cheeks flushed pink and lips plump from their usage. You burn that image into your mind, saving it for later when it would be more helpful. 
“No more distractions or mistakes from here on out Leon. You come to me if you need to clear your head. Understood?”, he released a dry chuckle, placing another kiss against your lips, much softer than before. The intimacy made your chest warm, your smile matching his own.
“Yes ma’am”
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brickmvster · 1 month
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new look [leon kennedy x gn!reader]
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(fanart in the middle from tanya.gavva on instagram)
synopsis: leon kennedy grows out his hair for the first time in a long time... and you cherish every moment of it.
word count: 1,190
tags: long haired re4r leon, established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff and cute domestic stuff, slice of life, short and sweet
author's note: ya'll know those long hair leon kennedy mods. yeah. yeah those. thank the modders for inspiring me to write this. 😭😭😭 (seriously he is so beautiful with long hair i am Crying)
as per usual, this was posted at a time when i should be sleeping lol. this has been proofread but some grammatical errors may have still slipped by me. apologies in advance, any and all mistakes are mine!
please enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated.
(this has been crossposted on ao3)
Sometimes, Leon goes quite some time without hearing from the government. On the rare occasion he gets extended breaks, he gets a little lazy when it comes to keeping his hair short. Short hair stays out of Leon's face, and prevents any evil residents from grabbing it when he's on missions, but when he doesn't have any hostile enemies to fight and he spends most of his time with you, he likes to let it grow just a little bit – after all, it's nice to save some money on haircuts and it gets some pretty entertaining reactions out of you.
When you first noticed Leon's longer hair, you didn't comment on it; you assumed that he'd cut it fairly quickly. But several days had passed, and his hair only grew longer, much to your surprise (and delight). You brought it up to him one night while he was helping you cook dinner, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes.
"Are you growing out your hair?" You had asked him. Leon looked away, almost in a shy manner that you found absolutely adorable.
"Yeah… I know it's unusual of me to keep it this long but it's been a while since my last mission and I haven't really felt like going to the barbershop, so…" he trailed off, running his fingers through the locks in a way that made your heart skip a beat.
There was a bit of silence before Leon spoke again. "Do you like it?" He asked you, to which you could only chuckle in response, walking over to him and running your own fingers through the strands before letting your arms rest on his shoulders, playing with the hairs on his nape.
"Leon Kennedy. Is that even a question?" You replied incredulously. Leon just smiled, chuckling softly as he placed his large hands on your waist. The two of you leaned in and shared a sweet kiss, momentarily forgetting about dinner altogether.
Leon eventually pulled away first, but his face remained close enough to yours that you could still feel his breath on your lips. Your fingers were still playing with his hair tenderly as your eyes admired the gorgeous sight directly in front of you.
Leon had always been handsome – that was just a known fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Leon Kennedy is attractive as all hell. But with the way his long hair was framing his face, you were falling in love all over again.
"Somehow you've gotten even more beautiful. I didn't even think that was possible." You teased, tucking some hair behind his ear.
"You're really loving this, aren't you?" Leon playfully asked, grinning warmly at you.
"To say that I'm loving this is a massive understatement – I am obsessed." you said with a smirk, saying the words against Leon's lips before pressing yours against his once more, this kiss a bit more passionate than the first one and making you feel light-headed in the best way possible, butterflies viciously attacking your stomach as Leon still somehow managed to sweep you off your feet years into the relationship.
Leon tried to pull away again after several minutes of lazily making out in the middle of the kitchen, but every time he tried you would chase his lips, never keeping your mouths separated for longer than a second.
"Baby," Leon whispered against your lips, and eventually you leaned back, but not without great reluctance.
Leon just kissed your cheek. "We should probably get back to preparing dinner, yeah?" He asked. With a pout, you nodded.
"Right." You said, remembering the poor vegetables that still needed cutting.
Before you turned your attention back on cutting vegetables though, you stepped back and took in Leon's now messy hair after your fingers had run through the strands a million times, giggling to yourself quietly. It looked like a cute little bird's nest.
"God, I am going to be all over you." You muttered under your breath. But your boyfriend's trained government agent ears picked up on your words.
"Aren't you always all over me already?" He replied, teasingly.
You added the chopped vegetables into a boiling pot as you responded. "Well, yes. But even more now. Watch out." You threw a wink his way, and Leon just rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight the fond smile from taking over his lips.
Eventually, the two of you got back into the tranquility of cooking, moving around each other almost as if dancing in harmony, a comfortable quietness filling the kitchen. At some point, though, when the food was simmering and you began cleaning up the kitchen, Leon had left for a moment. You didn't think anything of it, assuming he just needed to be off of his feet for a bit.
But then he came back, his silky blonde hair pulled into a small ponytail, some of the more disobedient strands framing his face in the most endearing way. You were wiping the counter when you suddenly froze, your face feeling as warm as the pot of stew on the stove as you shamelessly ogled at your boyfriend's good looks.
Leon sensed your staring, quickly meeting your gaze. "Something on your mind?" He asked playfully.
You wanted to throw your wash cloth at his ridiculously charming face. "Leon. You look so adorable right now. I'm going to explode."
Leon chuckled. "Please, don't. The counter will get dirty again."
You walked over to him, hitting him gently with the washcloth still in your hand before surprising him with a chaste kiss against his lips.
Eventually, dinner was served, and after the two of you ate, it was about time for bed. You both did your usual nightly routines before jumping into your shared bed, holding each other close. Leon was usually the big spoon, as per your request on most nights, but you weren't passing up the opportunity to hold his head close to your chest and to run your fingers through his soft strands.
Leon hummed contentedly, and it was so quiet you almost didn't catch it; but you did, and the sound instantly brought a smile to your face.
"That feels nice, sweetheart." He said lazily, as he was very obviously trying to fight sleep.
This man will be the death of me, you thought.
"It does?" You asked. Leon nodded.
"Mhmm." Was all he replied with, melting into your touch once more.
Some silence passed, the two of you on the very edge of being pulled into the embrace of a deep slumber, but not for long as you expressed one more thought that had entered your mind.
"You know, with your hair this length, I got some style ideas…"
"Oh yeah?" Leon replied groggily.
"Yeah. I have to see you in pigtails."
Leon's half open eyes were now fully open at your comment. A sharp laugh escaped you immediately.
"Leon, please. Do it for me?"
He shook his head, laughing along with you. But the next morning, he let you put his hair into two cute pigtails with a couple of your hairties. And of course, you took photos.
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cloooudmilk · 1 month
Text
a night to remember, leon s kennedy
one shot
summary: a familiar face, someone you’d never expected to see ever again, is now standing before you, conversing with the president.
extra: slightly suggestive, but everything’s implicit; heavily based off of laufey and beabadobee’s song of the same title; post re4 but there’s no major spoilers; also there are jumps going from present to past and vise versa i hope that isn’t too confusing ^^
reboots and interactions are appreciated!
wc: 1008
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Standing beside President Graham, your face nearly dropped when you saw Ashley Graham walk in with her savior. You knew him. In the most intimate of ways.
Those familiar blue eyes and blonde hair, longer than when you met him. And his arms, god, the way his biceps moved beneath his tailored suit as he walked into the office behind Ashley. He was someone you thought you’d forgotten after that night.
Leon Kennedy. The man who saved Ashley Graham, and the man who you would’ve never expected to see again.
You knew you’d recognized that name. At first, you thought you’d simply just heard that name in passing during work, seeing as he works in STRATCOM, only a few departments from your own directly under the President. But seeing him now, you knew you knew his name from something more than that. That night. That stupid night that you tried so hard to bury into the deepest parts of your memory. But how could you force yourself to forget a night that was oh so memorable and good?
-
You followed this stranger to his home, preparing yourself for what was to come. You wanted to blame your drunken stupor, but you were only slightly buzzed and he was more than handsome. You were too excited to get into bed with this man, who’d given you the pleasure of getting to know him at the bar on the opposite side of town. Really, all you wanted was to wind down, even if it was just for a little bit. And he was more than willing to give you that short time you needed.
Your back touched the bed, and you found yourself between the softness of the sheets and the warmth from his body. He was delicate in the way he touched you, from bringing you to his apartment to getting you in his bed. The both of you stared into each others’ eyes, steadfast. You grew impatient, reaching a hand out to his cheek. He was faster than you, though, since he took your hand into his. A firm grasp.
-
Leon Kennedy went around the room, shaking the hands of everyone until he reached you. If he recognized you, he made no show of it. Instead, he took your hand into his just as he did with everyone before and shook it before finally doing the same with President Graham. The feeling of his hand on yours surged a familiar feeling, traveling your body. You did your best to remain as composed as possible.
A conversation went on between the President and Leon. You remained at your spot to the left of the President with your hands behind your back. Your eyes wandered to Leon every once in a while for only a split second, ensuring he wouldn’t notice your stare. As the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his voice reverberated from his chest. It was so wrong of you. He gave extensive details of what went on in Spain, and here you were, recalling what went on in his bed.
-
You shivered as his fingers lingered on your skin. His body was electrifying to the touch. All you could feel and think was him.
A sigh escaped your lips when he reached the deepest parts of you. Your eyes stung with tears, but he took the time to soothe you. It nearly felt like an intimate moment between lovers. But it was anything but. This was a man you’d met mere hours ago, only in his bed because of his charms.
Your arms circled his back until it reached his soft locks of hair. You pushed his head towards you and took his lips in yours. A string of saliva connected the both of you before you grasped him harder, pushing his head in between your shoulder and neck. His breath was hot against your skin.
-
You let out an almost inaudible gasp when you heard the reports from Leon. A village of cult murderers, all overtaken by a parasite, one that Leon and Ashley themselves had to go through; unimaginable horrors. It was good to hear that they were safe and that Leon was able to put an end to the cult before it became the world’s, mostly the US’s, problem.
Way too inappropriately, your eyes continued to wander to Leon. Rather in remembrance of that night, you thought about what could’ve been. In just one night, he’d treated you better than any of your actual lovers had. He’d given you a night to remember, and you’d simply walked away from it. You wondered, did he think about that, too? Maybe you were simply deluding yourself because of it.
-
When you awoke, far too naked in a stranger’s bed, you recalled the events the night prior. You felt embarrassed for the pleasure you took in it.
Behind you, the stranger remained asleep. He looked so peaceful. So beautiful.
You shook your head, you had to leave. You hurriedly threw on your discarded clothes and grabbed your other belongings.
Just as you reached for the door, the stranger stirred awake. Against your own will, you turned back. He looked at you,sleep still evident on his face, and asked if you planned on staying. Throat dry, you simply shook your head ‘no.’ He said nothing else in response, waving to you and letting out a yawn. You waved back before practically running out of his home, never planning on seeing him again.
-
As the meeting came to an end, everyone began to file out of the room. Both President and Ashley Graham walked out, with you and Leon behind them respectively. Ashley looked over her shoulder at the both of you before sending an almost mischievous smile towards Leon. You paid no mind to it, ready to head home for the day.
Before you could go through the door, Leon whispered into your ear, “I hope you don’t think I forgot that night.”
He walked out before you, leaving you alone and stunned.
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qvrcll · 9 months
Note
Hello :) I saw you are tking requests and I have something on my mind for a quite some time...If you maybe could write Leon Kennedy ID x younger (like in her early 20s) girlfriend reader where they are making love and chris walk on them. But if you dont want to write it you dont need to so feel no pressure. have a nice day :)
rosemary
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summary: whilst you and leon share skin to skin contact in the fervent heat of your bedroom, a gentle intrusion seems to knocks things out of prospect. still, does it have to be so complicated?
warnings: female reader, ID ! leon, nsfw under the cut, getting walked in on EL OH EL, fluff if you squint i swear
a/n: hi lovely thank u for the request!! i had a great time writing this and i hope you enjoy :-)
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Leon was 180 centimetres of hard, breathing flesh — that, put up against you in such a compromising position as this, made things all too complicated. Brooding, in a sense that make things sweat, heave with pounding release.
Of course, he never played the fair game, however many times he swore he would.
He’s got you folded in half already, quivering cunt spurting a heat so delicious, it sinks him in like a vice when he gives into it. His hands, dangerous aviaries that hold every part of you in place, scavenge across your body like he has never seen you like this before. Never had you quite this deep, this desperate and thrashing before.
But he has, and he knows it all too fucking well.
“Like it when I do that, hm?” he spits out, throat abused by the abundant swell of groans and other string of pathetic noises that leave him. Still, he’s zeroed in on you only — the way you croon against him like a helpless little thing, bundled up beneath him in a mess of nerves, an assortment of pleas, pitching high from “r-right there!” and “m-mhm… just—like that…”
He’s learnt it all — your noises, twitches. The sensitive grip of skin underneath your thigh that leaves you breathless and moaning. Two, three, four slick fingers intruding your cunt, leaving you sore and satisfied the next day. He’s made love to you, and this only seems it, that familiar beckoning gush of your walls pressing against his cock like it had so many other times before.
And it’s barely coordinated, when your hand sinks lower, between the fervent slaps of either of your bodies in a distorted rhythm, seeking to pay attention to the awful throb of your clit and you mewl when his own hands quickly supersede yours in quick fashion. They’re larger, cover more space and bear more weight beneath the flesh, when he grants you some mercy by slathering any wetness against your clit and doing the work for you.
Aw, how sweet of you, Kennedy.
Is what you would have uttered. Smirked with a superlative sense of ungratefulness, if he wasn’t aiming to drill another hole into you.
“Fuck—“ he curses above you, and it all falls out of rhythm. A delicious combination of all your senses. A sign of your impending release.
You remember the gruelling trip back in his car.
You remember the awful coldness of the elevator as he pressed you against the familiar glint of it, mouth all full of the taste you and a raging sense of impatience.
You remember tripping into his room, already bare. Already responding to his cut-throat presses and licks in seconds.
“You close, sweetheart?” He calls you. But for you, it’s a reminder, that you are still here, underneath him. Writhing, thrashing, but with him nonetheless. Heated and throbbing, but fingers interlocked with his in ceremonious fashion. And the thought makes you smile, sloppy and twitching, through the lewdness of the thick air.
And you can do nothing except claw at him, use him as a living, breathing grounding machine. Can do nothing but hold him so desperately as you break, count the wrinkles against his forehead as he pushes into you again. Await the swift hit of release as you choke out, “Y-Yeah… I—I’m… close… mnng—“
“Leon? You in here?”
The additional voice is distant, airy almost. You almost wonder if you’d imagined it, sorted it out of nothing from your deeply calibrated mess of a brain.
The sex must’ve driven me mad, you think. Almost laugh, but don’t, as light hits your eyes.
And that familiar coil in your tummy dampens, aches, is reduced to ashes as Leon scrambles for the blanket with a large scoff, wraps you gently with it and shields your body against his — the heat of your sweat and the lathering material from the blanket does more to irritate you, but it would do, when Chris himself was standing calcified and struck dumb with confusion in the arch of your doorway.
So much for locking the door.
“Chris, get out!” Leon yells, sifts for his shirt. Cards the floor for his pants and undergarments. He’s almost fully dressed as Chris grumbles out an apology, staggering out of the room with a limp you didn’t recognise he had ever worn before.
And you’re moth-eaten, hot, underneath the covers. Some part of you is mortified, but the larger part is aching for relief. Your legs are tense with the course of your muscles and sweat coats you in a messy sheen. But the ache between your legs is stagnant, mulling in sick waters like a beaten soldier.
“Sweetheart?”
It takes you a few counted minutes to realise your current predicament — Chris had seen the two of you in bed by pure accident, and with the last shred of consciousness you possess, you burst with colour. Still, Leon’s voice is molten. Electric. It sends sparks flying and frothing at your skin, as his arm skirts over yours in that familiar fashion — a silent kiss inked into your skin by touch alone, a low voice muttering ‘It’s alright. It’s okay.’
And he smiles, wide and large, smile lines soothing the ache and bringing you to be. You’re almost relieved, almost rid of that throe in you, sex nearly forgotten until he speaks again,
“Don’t touch yourself until I’m back. You can do that, can’t you? Hm?”
And as he leaves, smirking, you swiftly melt into the suffocating creases of your shared bed, charged up all over again.
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© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.
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comatosebunny09 · 9 months
Text
kindle [ pt. 2 ] | leon k.
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genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au
warning(s): language, pining, terms of endearment (doll, sweetheart)
part 2 to this. hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading! ❤️
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It’s a date. Or at least, you assume it is. 
Given the way Leon had sauntered up to your desk, all smirking and sheepish, it was only fair to surmise he had asked you out on one. 
Took him long enough.
He came to you through the dull murmur of the office. When the sun crept towards the horizon, bathing your cubicle in an ethereal orange. You were elbow deep in SIR reports, gnawing on the cap of your pen. Irritation rested between your brows. If you glared any harder, the information sprawled before you would surely combust.
Paperwork was the bane of your existence. Dodging chainsaws, claws, and teeth seemed more appealing. You’d gladly take the cool steel of a beretta biting into your palm over that of a ballpoint. 
Thick, work-worn fingers splayed on your desk, drawing your attention northward. You couldn’t help the slight quirk of your lips. Couldn’t parry that pleasant, fluttery feeling in your gut at the sight of him—your partner, that is. 
Leon’s hair was ruffled with errant strands sticking this way and that. Irises glimmered like sea glass, dancing over your features with boyish fascination. His smile was dimpled, and crow’s feet hung to the corners of his eyes. Dark stubble dappled his chin. His tie was loosened around his neck, while his dress shirt lay slightly untucked and wrinkled. It seemed the day had been as kind to him as it was to you.   
You found yourself resting your cheek in your palm as warmth flooded your innards. Fell under his spell, submerged beneath its shadowy depths, unable to resurface. Not that you wanted to. He held your heart in a vice. You cautioned a “Sup?” wincing at how your voice crackled. How you sounded prepubescent, and you cleared your throat to ward off your nerves.
Leon’s replying chuckle was like velveteen. You felt it in your stomach. Felt it play up your spine like a xylophone. You always found his voice endearing, the low gravel of it sticky and dulcet to your ears. 
As if magnetically drawn to them, you watched his lips, soft and rose-petal red, form around words. Your own tingled as you recalled kissing that very mouth a few nights ago. Committed their texture to memory, quelling the urge to touch your lips. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed and the tendons in his neck flexed. You instinctively swallowed, readjusting yourself in your chair.
“Not much,” Leon said, shifting his weight onto one foot. Still propped up on your desk in an easy slouch, swaddling you in the aroma of gun oil and teakwood. Of course, his sleeves were cuffed, baring his sinewy forearms. How badly you wanted to touch them. Drag your fingertips down the forked veins beneath, conjuring the prettiest sounds from his throat. “Just checkin’ on my favorite partner.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m your only partner, dickhead.”
“I dunno,” he taunted, standing tall with folded arms. From this angle, it was easy to make out the power of his body. His clothes did little to disguise it. Your throat grew dry, and your voice caught in the bowels of your chest. “Marie over in HR is gunnin’ for your spot.” 
It��always surprised you how quickly you could move. How swiftly you could retrieve your stapler and chuck it at him. Leon snorted as he ducked, the damned thing striking a far-off window. He threw his hands up in mock surrender, a youthful crinkle to his eye. 
“Relax, doll. I’m just messin’.” 
You countered with a hmph, clearly over his shit.  
Leon replaced his palms on your desk once the dust settled. Broke the heavy silence by asking, “How’s the admin stuff comin’?” Feigning interest in the documents littering your cubicle, he retrieved a packet, skimming through it with disinterest. Like he wasn’t using you to procrastinate, a pile of pristine, white paper leering at you through his office window. 
With a weighted sigh, you answered, “It’s coming.” A quiet snicker garnered another eye-roll. “Oh, grow the hell up, Kennedy.” 
“Never. You like me like this.”
You cut your eyes at him mid-scribble. Sat your pen down with a definitive clack. These childish games you played made you feel giddy. Like two grade-schoolers in the sandbox, clearly taken by each other. Alright. You’d bite. 
“Says who?” 
It was as if you initiated a challenge. As if you’d stuck out your tongue and said make me. Leon took the bait, inching towards you, huffing out a chuckle. He crept over your desk with the finesse of a jaguar quietly stalking through the bush. Poured himself into your personal bubble, the heat of his body rolling off him in waves, staining your neck, a shiver sifting through your bones. His breath was hot against the shell of your ear. Dizzying as he deliberately exhaled against your skin.
His timbre was dark with mischief as he finally crooned, “Says that dumb little look on your face, sweetheart.”
You’d never punched him harder. 
Leon drew back, gulping down air between a peal of laughter. It became customary for him to torment you like that. To play on the attraction swimming between you, dismantling your resolve and leaking through the fissures of your heart. When the moment became too serious, he often sprinkled in a quip or two to keep you at arm’s length. It was frustrating. How he could act so cool despite the noticeable change in your relationship. 
“What do you even want, Kennedy? I’ve got shit to do,” you sighed, exasperation wading in your tone. Your forehead collided against the cherrywood with a soft thunk. A migraine bloomed on the horizon. Leon’s teasing only served to exacerbate it.
His tone was muffled. Hesitant, rivaled by the idle chatter of your coworkers. “Well, if you must know, I … wanted to see if you had dinner plans?” 
Magma filled your belly. Your eyes shot to him, a sheet of paper comically glued to your forehead. You were acutely aware of yourself, sitting up straighter, smoothing out the wrinkles of your attire, fretting over your hair. “Dinner? Uh, m-me? N-no. Well—”
“Cool. Now you do have plans. Seven sound good?” 
Your expression was awestruck. Well, now, this was certainly a new development. You blinked away your confusion, nodding dumbly. Caught a glimpse of a smirk canting Leon’s lips before he stepped out. Before he tapped your desk with finality, maneuvering out of your office space. 
“Wait! Wait, is … is this a date?” you called to his retreating back.
“Take it however you want,” Leon supplied, a hand raised in farewell. 
You sank into your chair once he disappeared within the maze of cubicle walls. Left at the mercy of your thundering heart and flaring nerves. The goofiest of grins lay claim to your countenance. You felt reinvigorated, taking up your pen. Scrawled away like an enamored fool, scanning through the catalog of your mind for what you would wear.             
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<< part 1
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delphi-shield · 3 months
Text
OLD FOLKS HOME ↪ age gap hcs
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the people you love & the shit they do that reminds you of the dreaded Gap (tm). characters included: leon kennedy, chris redfield, jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers no warnings to speak of. remember kids, if you're gonna date people in their 30s and 40s, you're gonna have different cultural contexts and, most likely, different senses of humor.
Leon is eight levels of irony deep. He started doing Old Guy Shit just to mess with you, and now it's all come full circle. 
It turns out he actually likes watching the weather channel. He’s monitoring storms that are miles and miles away from you, pointing out the feeder bands like it’s some kind of sporting event. 
He's genuinely invested in Ice Road Truckers. He asks you to TiVo it for him when he's gone. You do not have TiVo. In fact, you're pretty sure no one still has TiVo. 
Or you were, until Leon once again committed to the bit and got TiVo.
Really, genuinely annoying about old movies, actors, and directors.
”What do you mean you don’t know who Robert Redford is? The Candidate? Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? C’mon. He was even in an episode of The Twilight Zone. You’ll know him when you see him.”
At least you get movie dates out of it.
Movie dates that he will pepper with trivia about the film, by the way. You don't need the commentary track. He is the commentary.
I'm so, so sorry about this. 🤪 is his favorite emoji. I know. I'm sorry.
Chris cannot fucking hear. To be honest, I think most of them have some degree of hearing loss - but Chris in particular seems to have very subjective hearing loss.
Yes, you were just having a full-fledged conversation. No, he didn’t hear you ask him to take out the trash. He didn’t forget, he just didn’t hear you. Sorry, you were standing on his right - come on, you know that’s his bad side.
Explains basic technology to you because he’s not sure if you know what it is. Then, in the same breath, crams in so many military acronyms he may as well be reciting the alphabet. Does not explain the acronyms.
Like, yeah, Chris. I know what a landline is. Dial-up internet, too. Now, what the fuck is an ORE?
Have you ever gotten ‘ok’ in response to a nude? You’re about to. Completely demoralizing, by the way.
He didn't know you wanted him to compose a poem dedicated to your beauty, okay? He tries to get better, but winds up sending shit like 'wow 👍'
Does the dad thing where he insists he's not interested in watching what's on TV and then stands with his hands on his hips in the middle of the living room, enthralled by the show.
Jill does not understand your music. She will not make an attempt to understand your music. If you see her tapping her foot to the beat, no you do not. She is not interested in expanding her musical horizons.
She only bought you tickets to that concert because she knew you would love it. She only went with you because you’re cute when you’re so into this stuff. She only bought that t-shirt because it would be a good souvenir, and eventually, a good grease rag.
Generalized distrust of social media. Do not show her a tiktok. She will ignore the video and lecture you about data safety. Jill, please. Just watch the fucking cat video.
And then she turns around and opts in to literally everything on the McDonald's app.
If there’s a rewards program, she’s in. Already sold. Didn’t even read the fine print. All that shit she was telling you about how you need to be more careful is right out the window for some free fries.
Anything for the thrill of a good deal. If she had more time on her hands, she would be couponing.
Buys in bulk. No, it doesn't matter if the two of you could not physically eat that much rice. It's cheaper to buy it like this. It's fine. It's good for you.
Gotta stock up on non-perishables, too. You gotta be prepared in case something happens. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."
Claire cannot stop shopping from QVC. She's in the kitchen with David. It Takes Two with Mary and Sandra? Wrong. It actually takes three. Mary, Sandra, and Claire.
Infomercials have got her by the throat. You have so many gadgets and gizmos around your home that are just collecting dust.
Gets wine drunk and goes online shopping. Legitimately does not remember what she’s bought.
Absolutely will not let you open the packages. (“Some of this stuff could be for you, you know.” “Claire, last time it was a 10,000 count package of googly eyes.” “And I used all 10,000. You still haven’t found them all.”)
Uses every piece of technology until it’s about to fall apart. Absolutely not interested in having the latest and greatest. She’s one of those people who insists that as long as her phone can make calls and send texts, she doesn’t need a new one.
Speaking of texts. Somehow, she got it into her head that a read receipt is equivalent to a reply. She doesn't get what the problem is. You know she saw your text. Why does she have to reply?
Genuinely doesn't mean anything malicious by it - but also, if you did that to her, you would never hear the end of it.
Rebecca legitimately has facebook humor. They all have some degree of facebook humor, but she's got it the worst. 
Will blow up your notifications tagging you in shit that is just straight up not funny. I’m talking full on tagging you with “😂😂😂”
Unironically sent you a minion meme once.
It's not that she's disconnected. She teaches undergrads. She knows what’s in, even if it’s only from the periphery. It’s just that she doesn’t care. She has no interest in keeping up with trends just for the sake of it. She’s so used to being the youngest person in the room and having to keep up expectations that she just absolutely does not care anymore. She's glad she's not one of the kids anymore.
If it made her laugh it made her laugh, her enjoyment isn’t shackled by feelings of shame!!
If you have a group chat on any platform with your friends please invite her. She's just happy to be included. She'll make a discord if she has to, and she'll brag about it to her students.
Yeah, she says pupper and doggo. She does. Look at her.
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niki-phoria · 6 months
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pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: angst word count: 729
includes: implied re4 leon, leon cries, so much angst
a/n: inspired by this prompt list by @urfriendlywriter and this post by @rishiguro !! i'm debating making a part 02 of this where reader survives if anyone's interested
warnings: lots of blood, mentions of death
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“no, no, no,” leon whispers. he all but falls to his knees beside you, desperately pressing his hands against your torso. “come on, stay with me.” 
“leon?” your voice is raspy and strained as you force the words to leave your lips. squinting up at him, you can just barely make out his blurry figure hovering just over you. “lee-” you choke. 
“shh, don’t try to talk,” he whispers. “it’s okay. i’m here. just… keep your eyes open for me, okay?”
blood seeps through the thick fabric of leon’s gloves, staining his fingers a deep red. he moves without thinking; his heart beating violently in his chest reminds him of his own mortality as he rips his shirt and harness off.
leon’s hands tremble as he balls up the fabric of his t-shirt before pressing it against your wound. a low groan of pain escapes you at the contact. your hand instinctively reaches up to wrap around his wrist, though you don’t make any real efforts to pull away from him. 
“i’m sorry,” he whispers. his eyebrows furrow as he racks his brain in an attempt to remember his first aid training. tears blur his vision before he blinks them away to focus on the task at hand. “i know it hurts. just look at me. just keep looking at me.”
your eyes flutter shut for a second before you force them back open. the world around you spins. you can feel your own heart beating violently against your chest walls - desperate to keep you alive. “leon,” you choke out once again. blood pools in your mouth with each strained movement you make. your chest shakes as you cough uncontrollably. 
“don’t speak,” he whispers. his eyes flicker from your chest to your face. “it’s okay. don’t try to talk.”
you squint up at him. a shaky breath leaves your lips before you do your best to softly smile at leon. “i- i love you.”
the words sound more like a choked groan when they leave your lips, but you hope the message comes across nonetheless. you shudder as another, shallower breath escapes you. black spots begin to appear in your vision. 
leon presses down on your chest even harder. a hiss of pain escapes your clenched teeth. “stay with me,” he whispers. “y/n, please stay with me.”
your breath hitches in your throat. the black spots spread until they all but overtake your entire field of vision. before you know it, the world slowly begins to fade away. 
“y/n, come on,” leon mumbles. bloody hands reach up to cradle your face. his name leaves your lips like a prayer. like if he hopes enough he’ll be able to save you. 
tears roll down his cheeks in waves before he realizes. it feels like it’s been years since he’s cried. at least not like this. his throat burns as choked sobs escape his lips. the world seemingly falls apart around him. 
“please don’t leave me,” leon whimpers. his voice cracks as much as his heart does. each beat of his heart is more painful than the last. “please… i need you. i need you here with me.” 
you don’t move. your hands don’t shake from fear. your eyes aren’t squeezed shut in pain. leon sobs. you look so peaceful. death is peaceful, he supposes. in the golden haze of light and heaven or the dark nothingness of the empty there’s nothing else than can hurt you. no more monsters to jump out from behind corners and litter your body with even more scars. no more sleepless nights spent desperately trying to fight off any new nightmares. no more worry. no more agony.
guilt racks through leon’s body. you look so peaceful, but a selfish part of him wants you back. wants to keep you alive despite the suffering of life. wants to feel your heart beating when he falls asleep on your chest or your fingers tangled in his hair after a tough day or the warmth of your fingers as they gently massage the tension from out of his back and shoulder blades.
leon’s entire body shakes in anguish. leaning down, he presses his head against your chest, desperate to feel your heartbeat. a breath. anything.
“please…” he repeats. kneeling down on the cold concrete ground, crading your limp body in his arms, leon’s prayers go unanswered.
844 notes · View notes
konigbabe · 11 months
Text
like real people do
Pairing: ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!teacher!reader | single dad AU
Word count: 5.8k
Tags/warnings: no y/n; fluff; eventual smut; p-in-v; slice of life; gendered female reader; gendered female anatomy; original kid Kennedy character
Summary: He's the sun, and you're the earth, drawn into his orbit; yet, he's your student's father. Handsome. Confident. Alluring. But off limits–at least he should be.
a/n: Inspired by @yeyinde’s ask. Also, canon ID!Leon is around 29 but Leon in this '"universe" is aged up to be in his 30s (age won't be specified but I imagine him to be in his mid-to-late 30s).
divider by @benkeibear [source]
series masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi
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The voice in your head keeps telling you to be professional, the thought of spending an evening with this man hard to resist; his confident, easy-going demeanor, the way he doesn’t give up easily– “So? It’s just dinner.”
The innocence of children always manages to brighten up even the darkest of days, their smiles and eagerness to learn contagious; filling your heart with positivity. It's a feeling that's hard to come by as an adult; life's challenges tend to chip away at your soul and slowly rob you of that childhood magic.
As the clock strikes five and your shift comes to an end, the school falls into an eerie silence. A lingering sense of relief washes over you when leaving the building; you've done your part in shaping young minds.
Walking out the front door, the warmth of the sun caresses your skin, its rays sliding around your bare arms like silk.
Twisting the key in the lock, your eyes catch a glimpse of slight movement from the corner of your vision. Turning your head, you see a little girl perched on the concrete steps below, her delicate features illuminated by the warm glow of the sun.
Her hair, a cascade of light brown waves, frames her chubby cheeks and the crown of her head is adorned with blonde highlights that shimmer like golden threads.
She turns to you when you address her, slowly stepping down to her level.
"What are you still doing here," you sit down, her small backpack creating a wall between your bodies.
As you sit side by side with the little girl, basking in the comforting embrace of the sunlight, she kicks her legs up; eyes up front, both of you watch the cars pass by on the street.
The Washington Spring air’s filled with the sweet scent of blooming cherry blossoms, carried on a gentle breeze that rustles through the trees. The distant sounds of children playing in a nearby park mingle with the honking of cars and the chirping of birds, creating a symphony of noise that signifies the arrival of spring in the bustling city.
"Waiting for daddy," she says with a hint of excitement in her voice.
The little girl looks up at you, her eyes full of wonder and innocence. You can't help but wonder about the mysterious Mr Kennedy and his absence; an enigma surrounding his name.
Like a forgotten toy left on the shelf, the girl's father remains absent from any involvement in her education. Despite several months passing since her admission to your class, there has been no sign of him. No parent-teacher meetings, no Father's Day celebration, nothing.
An enigma.
"Speaking of," your voice trails off for a moment, "How’s your daddy doing?" you question her. You shouldn’t; it goes beyond your job description to put a kid in situations like these. But still–
Her eyes, a vivid shade of cerulean, sparkle like sunlit water as she gazes at you; smile wide upon the mention of her father, the young kid toys with the straps on her bag.
"He’s busy."
A pang of understanding pinches your heart.
–his presence (or rather the absurd lack of it) keeps gnawing at your brain.
"He fights monsters," the girl adds after a moment of silence; her tone more serious. It's as if she's describing a mythical hero, fighting off beasts in some far-off land.
"He seems to be busy quite a lot," you smile to ease the topic; well aware that the girl, as bright as she is, surely catches on as you keep asking the same question every week, "is your mom coming to the parent–teacher meeting?"
The girl shakes her head before she speaks, "I don’t know my mom."
Oh.
You know you shouldn’t push more; well aware of the unprofessionalism you’re displaying.
"The woman who picks you up–"
"–aunt Claire," the kid corrects you, "I’m sorry for interrupting, miss teacher."
You smile, trying to put her at ease. It's clear that she's been brought up with good manners.
Lost in how to answer her, you almost don't hear the sound of a car approaching. The girl jumps up, her face alight with excitement. A low rumble reverberates through the air as a sleek black SUV glides up to the curb, its shiny exterior reflecting the warm rays of the sun.
The tinted windows obscure the view inside the car, adding an air of mystery to the vehicle. As the car comes to a stop, the quiet hum of the engine fades to a gentle purr, and the driver's door swings open.
The girl grabs her backpack at the same time a man steps out of the car; you’re able to only see the light brown hair decorating his head.
"Daddy," the girl yelps in excitement. You stand up, dusting the invisible dust from your jeans.
He stands tall, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of the crisp white shirt, tucked tightly into the blue dress pants. A single button undone on his collar, revealing the curve of his clavicles. The sun glints off his aviator sunglasses, hiding his eyes from view. He approaches the little girl with a warm smile as she runs into her father, you presume; standing still, watching the situation unfold before your eyes.
Lowering himself to her level, he extends his arms, inviting her in. She eagerly accepts, wrapping her little arms around his neck in a welcoming embrace.
"Hey there, pup," you manage to hear his voice; low and soft. Gentle. "Sorry I’m late; got held up by paperwork. Y’know the drill."
The kid chuckles before pulling away, a sound so pure and innocent it brings a smile to your face.
Standing back up, his face turns towards you. You're struck by his imposing presence, the way he commands attention without even trying. His chiseled jawline is dusted with a light stubble, giving him an air of ruggedness. He moves with confidence towards you, one hand enclosed with his daughter’s.
The girl tugs at the sleeve of his shirt, introducing you before he even reaches your standing point–to which he smiles gently.
"Well, nice to meet you," his hand extended in greeting, "I’m Leon Kennedy. Her dad," he nods towards the girl.
"Mr Kennedy," you murmur, taking his hand in yours; noting the callouses on his palm.
As your eyes travel up his arm, they catch sight of a fresh bandage peeking out from under his slightly rolled up sleeve. But it's not until you look up at his face that you see the true extent of his weariness. Small scratches mark his jaw, subtle hues of purple and yellow decorate his cheekbone like a watercolor painting.
It’s clear that he's been through a rough patch. Makes you wander back to the girl’s words–
("He fights monsters.")
–and maybe he does. In some twisted sense.
"I actually wanted to speak with you," you release his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin lingering on your fingertips., "are you free next Tuesday? Around one PM?"
"Am I in trouble," he chuckles; the stretch of his lips exposing a slight scar on his lower lip.
The girl tilts her head, eyes studying you intently. You can't help but notice the slight beauty marks across her neck, the softness of her features, the way she looks up at her father with curiosity.
"Not really; I just need to discuss some matters with you."
"Okay," he responds, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, yet he remains stoic. Posed. "Sure."
"I’ll see you then," you nod and take your leave, but not before stealing a few glances at his back as he turns away from you. It’s impossible not to notice how his broad shoulders strain against the fabric, or how his hair cascades over his forehead; tousled yet somehow perfectly in place.
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The weekend flies by, the days blurring together until suddenly it's Tuesday.
Despite his daughter's reassurances from yesterday that he'll be here, the uncertainty of whether he'll actually show up still grips you tightly.
A knock on the open door disturbs your grading.
"Mr Kennedy," you remark upon his arrival. The pen falls onto the desk with a clunk; back straighten, you invite him to sit on the chair prepared for him beforehand.
He’s dressed more casual–the black, expensive looking leather jacket squeaks against the wooden chair as he sits down after a simple "Hello". The faint but distinct aroma of sharp, citrusy notes wafts from his collar; the refreshing and invigorating aroma that catches your attention before your eyes trail to the bandage on his wrist.
Clearly seeing the way your eyes subconsciously linger on the piece of medical tape, Leon puts his other hand over it, shielding your view. Silently focusing your attention back on his eyes; the same blue hues as his daughter’s.
Sitting before you, legs spread apart, the undeniable similarities between him and his daughter are glaringly apparent. The way he holds himself commands respect, his posture erect and confident.
"Mr Kennedy, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you in person."
Fingers interlocking as you lean on your elbows, his gaze following your every movement like a predator stalking its prey; almost as if he’s sizing you up. His eyes watchful.
"Okay," he responds casually, a hint of question behind the simple word.
You clear your throat before continuing. "Your daughter is a remarkable child," a small smile accompanying your words. "She's well-behaved, intelligent, and often surpasses her peers."
Leon nods, lips pressed together.
"Got that from her mother, probably," he remarks. Almost bites back. Jaw tightening.
Leaning back, your fingers drum a quick rhythm against your desk.
"But we’re not here to evaluate your daughter; but you, actually, Mr Kennedy."
Leon’s brows arch up, highlighting the soft surprise that flashes across his face. The subtle shift in his expression does not go unnoticed by you.
"Didn’t know I was being evaluated," his voice trails off.
You nod in acknowledgement, sensing the man's confusion.
"You’re aware of our school assemblies, right?"
His face remains stoic, so you continue.
"Father's Day, parent-teacher meetings, career days, sports day," you list a few, hoping to spark the idea in the man’s mind.
"So," he leans back against the chair, arms folded on his chest.
With an exhale, upon your failed attempt to make him take the hint, you resolve to explaining the school rules to him.
"Our school mandates that the child’s parent or legal guardian be present at at least three of those assemblies per school year. You haven’t been present on any of them, not even last year."
He lifts his chin slightly and raises his eyebrows, eyes fixed on you with a look that suggests he's waiting for more information or an explanation.
"There’s actually a policy within out school that allows teachers to prohibit the child from participating in certain activities or events if a parent is not present–"
"–you’re kidding," Leon interjects, his tone laced with disbelief.
Raising your hand, you stop him from continuing, "and your daughter is a great student, so I don't expect that to happen to her. But with your continuous absence, she's at risk of being excluded from certain activities."
"My job keeps me busy. And I don’t really have a say in it," Leon retorts.
Arms still folded across his chest, his brows furrow in frustration. Defence sets inside his flesh; jaw slightly twitching, his eyes bore into yours.
"Maybe her mother could–"
"–not an option," he stops you before you manage to finish the sentence.
You nod in understanding. Leaving forward, you hope to appeal to Leon’s sense of responsibility a little more.
"In that case; we’re having a sports day this Friday. If you could just show up to support your daughter, I could mark it as you being present."
Leon chuckles, his voice smooth. Looking out the nearby window, he stares into the field right next to the school for a moment, deep in thought. The sunlight filtering through the window casts a warm glow on his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.
Silence passes before he speaks up, "Wouldn't a dinner suffice instead?"
You clear your throat and try to compose yourself, feeling your heartbeat pick up at the unexpected request. "That's not very appropriate, Mr Kennedy, " you say softly, attempting to hide the fluttering in your chest. "Let's see each other at the soccer match."
"Sure. I’ll see what I can do; is that all?" he asks, head turned to the side. You gaze upon the now exposed wound on his jawline, vaguely resembling a cat’s claw scratch. The bruise colors on his cheek faded over the past few days.
"Yes," you assure him.
"Y’know, this whole thing could’ve been an email."
You smile wryly, "Would you react to that email?"
Looking back at you, there’s a flicker of mischievous dancing in his eyes. Leon's gaze holds yours for a moment longer, and you find yourself drawn to the subtle crinkles at the corners of his eyes, evidence of his amusement.
"You got me there."
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The sun blankets the field in gold, casting elongated shadows of the children as they scamper around in pursuit of the ball. It’s still quite early. The air’s crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and; sound of excited cheers and shouts echo throughout the surrounding area.
It’s comforting. Soothing in a way.
With a group of teachers, you watch the little girl darting across the field, her movements resembling that of a graceful gazelle as she expertly maneuvers the ball. She weaves in and out of the other players, a look of determination etched on her youthful face.
A chorus of her name echoes across the field, drifting like a wispy trail of smoke. The other kids cheer her on as she makes her way towards the goal, her tiny frame seemingly defying the laws of physics with her quick and nimble movements.
A round of applause erupts when the ball meets the back of the net. You watch as the little girl’s teammates rush to congratulate her.
"And who is that," a woman’s voice tears your gaze away from the cheerful moment, hands stopping mid-clasp.
Curious, you look at her. The other teachers already gazing to your right. To the parking lot.
Leaning against the sleek car, its design demanding attention; even from further away, he exudes an air of quiet confidence that's impossible to ignore. Eyes covered by another set of sunglasses, the same leather jacket strains against his folded arms.
Mr Kennedy.
Leon Kennedy.
Something about him always seems to draw attention; to captivate anyone who catches a glimpse of him.
It’s odd. Uncanny–
You should know better than to think in such a way about your student’s father.
–and you wonder if it’s just you who feels that way.
As the group of teachers chatter, a voice pipes up, "Is he someone's father?"
"He has to be," the conversation carries on, "or he wouldn’t be here–"
"–or he’s a creep."
Turning to face the person who said it, you scoff at the teacher before speaking up.
"He’s her dad," You nod in the direction of the girl with a beaming smile on your face, as she energetically waves at Leon. His response, though polite, is less enthusiastic, evident by the restrained movement of his hand.
Escaping the gossip, you follow the white boundary lines of the field towards your target, the soft grass crunching beneath your feet. Leon's eyes are fixed on the field, his sharp features softened by the spring glow.
But he's quick to notice your approach, turning his head ever so slightly to the left. It makes you feel naked as he shamelessly watches you coming closer.
"Mr Kennedy," you greet him.
As you approach, the warm spring breeze ruffles your hair, the sweet scent of blooming flowers mixing with his heady aroma. Posture relaxed, his broad shoulders almost blend with the darkness of the car behind him.
"Just call me Leon."
Eyes back on the field, a tinge of carelessness in his voice, a small tug on his lips. Hesitating momentarily, you put your hands in your pockets.
"I’d rather stick to being professional."
It makes him chuckle; voice rumbling with amusement–
"You’re making me feel old," he teases.
–making your chest tighten. His words brush against your ears like the gentle rustling of leaves on a cool autumn breeze.
The lightness in his tone, the hint of playfulness, stirs something deep within you.
It’s your turn to return the light laugh. The sound mingling with the chirping of birds in the distance.
"It’s good that you’re here. Your daughter seems to appreciate it as well."
Leon's eyes flicker to his daughter, still surrounded by her teammates; a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
"Yeah," he says, the warmth in his voice evident, "she’s been talking about this game for a week."
"She’s really talented in sports."
A cool breeze brushes against your skin as he removes his sunglasses. Eyes reminiscent of the clear waters of a mountain lake–the color seems to deepen and intensify as he looks at you, drawing you in.
"That she got from me," the corners of his mouth curve up into a charming smile. His voice deep and smooth, like a glass of well-aged whiskey. You can sense his confidence, the way he carries himself with ease, and it's hard not to be drawn in.
It's alluring. The way he exudes a sense of self-assurance.
Smiling lightly, hand resting on the cool hood of his car, you both watch the children race each other. Cheers fill the soccer fields.
Even in momentarily silence, it’s comfortable–
"Well, she certainly inherited some good genes, Mr Kennedy."
–there’s no awkward cluster around the two of you. It’s natural.
It draws Leon’s attention back to you. Arms folded, his fingers sneak around his bicep, gripping gently as he shamelessly looks at you. His face a canvas of chiseled features and sharp lines. reminiscent of a Greek statue carved out of marble. A faint scent of musk and cologne lingers around him, blending with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers in the air.
"Just so you know, miss teacher," his voice soft melody that lingers in your mind, "the dinner invitation still stands."
It’s tempting.
The words hang in the air, tantalizingly close.
A whistle cuts through the sounds of the soccer field, interrupting the moment. Leon’s attention briefly flickers towards his daughter, checking as the little girl sprints towards the two of you, before returning to your face.
"And I should remind you, Mr Kennedy, that it’s not very appropriate to ask your daughter’s teacher out."
The voice in your head keeps telling you to be professional, the thought of spending an evening with this man is hard to resist though. His confident, easy-going demeanor, the way he doesn’t give up easily–
"So? It’s just dinner," his tone is almost conspiratorial, as if he's sharing a secret with you.
–it makes you feel alive.
(Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not strictly forbidden.
Only frown upon. Harshly.)
It's like he's the sun, and you're the earth, drawn into his orbit.
"Daddy," his daughter doesn’t hesitate, jumping straight into her father’s arm; yet Leon isn’t phased at all, hoisting her into his arms, "Did you see my goal?"
"I did, pup," arm sneaking underneath her knees, you notice the bandage gone, "you killed it."
"Miss teacher," the kid addresses you, hand sneaking into her dad’s hair to hold him tightly while looking up at you with bright, curious eyes, "Did you see me? Did you see my goal?"
"Of course," you answer with a warm smile, "you did great. Seems like you got good genes for it."
The little girl beams with pride, hugging her father even tighter. Leon chuckles, the sound low and rich, and nods his head in agreement.
"I’ll see you on Monday then; pleasure seeing you, Mr Kennedy," as you turn to leave, you can't help but feel a twinge of regret.
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The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by occasional laughter and the clink of glasses. The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the wooden booths and bar, giving the place a cozy feel. The smell of fried food and beer lingers in the air, adding to the ambiance of the traditional American pub.
From a corner, a live band plays classic rock tunes, and the patrons nod along to the rhythm, singing softly under their breaths. It's a perfect spot to unwind after a long workday, catch up with friends. Or even make new connections.
Your little freedom.
Away from responsibilities. From the stress of daily life.
This is your escape, your sanctuary, where you can let loose and just be yourself.
Coming to the bartender, you order another round for the group you’re with, only to be taken back by a familiar voice saying your name.
Turning to look at the man by your right, the white stripes on his jacket contrast against the dim, warm ambiance of the room. Fingers tapping on the rim of the glass of whiskey, he takes a sip, his gaze fixed on you; the amber liquid catching the light, casting a glow across his features.
"Mr Kennedy," you exhale, almost in disbelief by the sudden situation.
Mind whirling with surprise and curiosity; the bar is chill against your exposed arm as you lean onto it, turning to look at the man by your side.
"Wouldn’t expect a teacher to be in a bar on Friday night," he smirks, the corner of his lips curving up in amusement.
"We’re not as frigid as people have us to be," you replied, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips.
Voice like a smoldering flame, waiting to be ignited, he tilts the glass towards you, "Oh, really."
The allure of his presence tangible.
A gravitational pull.
"Well, Mr Kennedy," the words roll off your tongue smoothly, "I suppose we all have our ways of letting loose after a hard week."
He chuckles, the sound deep and throaty; making your pulse quicken, heartbeat pick up. "I couldn't agree more," he says, taking another sip of his drink.
You study him for a moment; taking in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, how his hair fal across his forehead in a disheveled yet stylish way. There’s something undeniably attractive about him, something that draws you in against all odds–
–like a moth to a flame.
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Life has a funny way of working out.
You should stop.
But ‘should’ doesn’t exist in the moment of impulse. In the realm of desire. Pure, unblistered passion. The temptation to follow desire is too strong–
The world falls away.
–and all thought of 'should' dissipates.
Leon's hands slide around your thighs, gripping the flesh firmly as his body pushes against yours. Pinned to the wall; his lips trail the pulse of your neck. The tip of his tongue leaving wet patches on the heated skin.
The sudden intrusion of reality makes you gasp,"What about—".
It’s Leon’s hand on your breast; squeezing, teasing the clothed flesh through the thin material, thumbing at the erect nipple, that earns him a moan. His daughter’s name spilling over into a sound so soft. Inviting.
Like a hummingbird.
A content hum echoes in his chest; pressed tightly against yours. Feeling the muscles contract beneath you, respond to your movement; to the way your hips press against the growing bulge in his pants.
"—she’s stayin’ at my friend’s," he mumbles against the curve of your collarbones, teeth grazing the firm area.
With a strong grip, your fingers entangle in his hair. The texture soft and silky, like running your hands through fine threads of spun gold.
"Isn’t she young for sleepovers?"
It makes him look at you. Eyes glazed over; hungry. Primal–
He pulls you into an embrace, arm wrapping around your back, his palm cupping your ass. The heat of his body seeps through your clothing, searing your skin with its intensity, his breath ghosting over your lips as he whispers, "I really don’t wanna talk about my kid right now."
It’s a command rather than anything else.
Followed by your clothes.
He has you bare before you make up your mind.
–causing your skin to crawl.
With every touch, every whisper, every breath, he leaves you feeling more exposed, more vulnerable.
Limbs tangled together, lips pressed against each other; there’s no beginning and no end. When one begins, the other follows, like an unbroken circle of passion and desire.
Utter consumption by the fire inside you.
Leon’s hands feel scorching. Each stroke branding your skin.
He splits your apart, fills you to the brim. The head of his cock kisses the innermost parts of you as you stay seated on top of him. Nails scratching the firm muscle of his breastplate; he grips your sides. Digs his fingers into the soft, plump flesh there.
Teeth nip at your chin. Gently nibbles accompanied by your hips circling on top of him.
Cascade of groans, grunts and moans echo throughout Leon’s bedroom; each sound building on the other to create a crescendo of pleasure. The mattress beneath you creaks and strains under your knees.
Lost in the feeling.
His words a salacious melody; sung in a sultry whisper followed by his teeth, nibling at your earlobe; securing your grip on his shoulders feeling the strength of his muscles as he guides your moves.
Up and down. Up and down.
Circle your hips when your pelvis meets his. When your ass touches his thighs; when his fingers dig into the round flesh.
The rhythm builds, the tension mounting with every breath. The ache of desire deep inside, a longing that can only be sated by him. With each movement, you feel closer to the edge, your body aching for release.
Leon whispers encouragement, his voice like a caress against your skin. Head buried in the crook of your neck, your arms tighten around his shoulder. Face buried in the top of his head, the scent of him fills your senses; a heady, intoxicating aroma that envelops you in its warmth.
You breathe him in, savoring the subtle notes of bergamot and spice, the rich undertones of musk and earthiness.
Leon’s name leaves your lips in a soft, breathless moan, a prayer to the god of pleasure.
His lips brush against your collarbone, lingering there for a moment before trailing lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Skin erupting in goosebumps as his breath tickles your chest, your body bows like a taut bowstring, a supplication to his touch. Offering yourself up to him completely.
Hands roam over your body, tracing the curves and planes of your skin with reverent fingers. As if he knows just where to touch you.
With a strong pull and push, your back meets the hard mattress. His hands move over you like a painter's brush, each stroke bringing out a new hue of pleasure. Hips grinding against yours.
Pressing your body closer to his, chest to chest, he rocks against you. The intensity of his movements leaves you gasping for air, a low moan escaping your lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he continues to rut into you.
Long lost is the slow motion–
Your pelvis meets his in a harsh, demanding thrust.
–now he’s chasing his own high. His own release.
His hand slides to cup your jaw, grip your shoulder, eyes boring into yours; intense and unwavering, as if he’s trying to read your thoughts through the depth of your eyes. Consumed by the heat of you.
Head thrown back, you close your eyes; unable to match the fire in his as he grinds against you; his breaths ragged gasps, the only sound in the room the soft rustling of sheets and the slapping of skin against skin.
Leon knows he won’t last long. Not with the way your mouth remains agape, nails digging into the firm tendons of his biceps; heels digging into the flesh of his ass, pushing him deeper. Demanding him to go harder.
You just look so pretty underneath him.
Fingertips trace the warm flesh of your curves. They move slowly, mapping the supple contours of your body with precision; each touch deliberate, a way of committing the curves of your form to memory.
The sensation is electric, every nerve ending on high alert.
His thumb finds your clit, circling it with teasing precision, a feather-light touch. Pushing your hips into his, he obliges your silent demand – adding a bit more pressure with each pass. The slow, steady rhythm of his touch in bright contrast to the sharp thrusts.
Building the tension inside you, until you feel like you might burst. But he doesn't let up, not yet. He's savoring every moment, enjoying the way you writhe beneath him.
Your breath hitches, body tensing as he works you with an almost clinical precision. The ache between your legs grows, spreading through your entire body. He watches you, gauging your reactions, and adjusts his touch accordingly.
The way he focuses on you, with a singular, unwavering intensity, is both thrilling and terrifying.
As for Leon, every movement, every sound, is calculated. He wants to make this last. He wants to make you lose control.
His muscles tense as he drives into you, each thrust bringing him closer to the edge. His breaths come in short gasps, matching the rhythm of your moans. The heat between you intensifies, a physical force that binds you together.
With one final push, final flick of a thumb, he takes you over the edge, his name on your lips.
Clenching around him, walls fluttering, his thrusts grow slow. Leisurely.
As if he’s tantalizing himself. Savoring the feel before he lets go with a groan; a guttural sound that echoes through the bedroom; body spasming. The two of you entwined in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.
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There should be some sort of regret.
Standing by the foot of Leon’s bed, still searching for your clothes amid the scattered chaos of the apartment, covered by a random shirt you’ve found on the ground (that’s definitely not the one you’ve come with), you can’t help but be drawn to the sleeping man lying before you.
The sheets barely cover the curve of his lower back, and even in slumber, the muscles of his back remain visible; the outline of his physique remains defined and sharp, even in relaxation. The memory of his back muscles beneath your palms lingers on your skin, as if he were still present with you in that moment.
There’s no regret.
Exiting the bedroom, you walk past the kitchen into the hallway. The emptiness of the space is palpable, with nothing adorning the plain white walls; no family photos or decorations to add personality. Only the essential pieces of furniture remain. The floor creaks beneath your bare feet as you open the door closer to you–
(It’s almost like he doesn’t have anyone.
A sense of desolation creeps in you.)
–and are met with a blinding contrast to the rest of the apartment. Rainbow colored sheets neatly tucked into the small bed, pillows in shape of various animals. Light furniture covered in school supplies; and a photo decorating the nightstand.
You pick it up, immediately recognized the two people. It might be the first time you’re seeing Leon actually smile, wide and bright. Happy; with his daughter tightly wrapped in his arms. Faces pressed together, smiling at the camera.
"I hope you're not trying to steal anything," Leon's voice interrupts your reverie; low and husky, still laced by the morning sleep, "I don't have much, y’know."
As you pivot to face him, you can't resist noticing how his bare feet stand out against his fully-clothed form. Hair tousled and messy, only adding to his rugged appeal.
An irresistible wave of attraction washes over you as you scrutinize his appearance, and his playful tone only adds fuel to the fire.
"Don't worry, I'm not after your prized possessions," you reply with a smirk, feeling emboldened by his proximity.
Leon's eyes twinkle mischievously as he steps closer to you, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. "Well, in that case, what’re you after?"
"I was just looking for a bathroom."
Leon's gaze lingers on you, lips curled up in a half-smile. "The bathroom’s down the hall to the right," he points with a nod of his head.
You nod back, trying to ignore the electric sensation that courses through you at his proximity. "Thanks," you say, stepping past him towards the direction he indicated.
As you walk down the hallway, you can't shake off the feeling of emptiness that you felt earlier. It's clear that Leon lives a minimalist lifestyle, but the lack of personal touches leaves you with a sense of melancholy.
Entering the bathroom, you take a moment to splash water on your face, trying to compose yourself before facing Leon again.
His voice echoes through the small apartment as you make your way towards his voice, entering the kitchen; you're struck by how immaculate it is. Everything’s in its place, and there isn't a single dish out of place. The countertop is spotless, the sink free of any debris, the stainless-steel appliances gleam in the light.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air with the morning sun streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room.
"I’ll pick her up in an hour," Leon stands in front of the refrigerator, two mugs in one hand, bare feet making a soft thumping sound against the linoleum floor. His hair’s still tousled from sleep, his t-shirt is wrinkled, clinging to his muscles as he holds the phone to his ear.
There’s a certain charm to his disheveled appearance that you find appealing.
Looking at you, he makes no effort to stop the call, instead a playful undertones his voice as he hands you a mug and motions towards the coffee machine, "yeah, just woke up. Had a long night."
Shaking your head at his words; he watches you with a small, amused smile, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.
"See you then. Bye, Claire,” he ends the call, turning his full attention to you.
"Y’know, miss teacher," he pours himself a glass of water, "if you just wanted to skip the whole dinner thing, you should’ve just said."
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emilzke · 9 months
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505
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‘𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 / 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞’
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem!Reader
Summary: Leon returns home to you unexpectedly but has to leave you once again, making you confront all the feelings on his dangerous job and the pain of your love for him.
Warnings: angst, mentions of: alcoholism, sex, death.
Word count: 3.0k (wow) | Read on AO3
A/N: My first of hopefully many fics inspired by a song! I thought the lyrics fit very well. I feel at home writing angst lol, this might be one of my favourites of mine so I really hope you like it :’) (I left it unfinished for a month but we don’t need to talk about that lmao)
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It was two in the morning. You stood there in your nightgown, holding the door open to your apartment but standing in front of it–so the man in question, who had awoken you with a knock on the door that had you wanting, needing him there to protect you against whoever was knocking on your door at this ridiculous time–wouldn’t come in just yet. You deserved an explanation. 
An explanation for why Leon was standing at your door like a lost puppy and a dying man simultaneously when he was supposed to be away, working–as usual. But you couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of him even though he looked terrible; dark under eyes, messy hair, and hunched over with fatigue that made you frown ever so slightly again. You didn’t know how long you could bear seeing him like this again. It came with the job, came with the man you wanted to marry but you love him. How can someone who loves him stand by when he was tearing himself to pieces? 
“Surprise…” Leon said, forcing a small smile as his eyes looked up from the floor to you, making you feel the urge to feel his body against yours again. You practically threw yourself at him. The silk of your nightgown pressed against the cotton of his button-up shirt and you felt his warmth radiating off him as you pulled him into your arms and those strong arms of his pulled you into an equally desperate hug, both seeking comfort from one another. “I…” Leon started but sighed deeply and that pit in your stomach formed again. You felt yourself drown in it, the air from his deep and telling sigh pushing you so deep you felt you couldn’t get out, making you grip his shirt and screw your eyes shut–already knowing what was to come. 
“I… can’t stay for long, I’m on my way to another mission in the next state tomorrow–” he paused, stroking your hair and pulling you closer as if he feared you would run away. You would never. But you understood why he thought so. “Was in the area, thought I’d stop by–especially after… how we left off” Leon said and although your face was pressed against his chest and therefore unable to see anything, you could hear the grimace in his voice and it made you screw your eyes shut again. You focused on his breathing chest beneath your ear–rhythmic and calm, a heartbeat that was growing faster but stable–that once always lulled you to sleep but now filled you with a sense of dread. 
It was happening again. He was being taken from you. Again. Your greetings to him nowadays seemed more like goodbyes than hellos, always getting ready for the next call to action. It never ended. 
‘How we left off’... his words repeated in your head again and again with the flash of a memory; two shouting voices, the slam of a door, and the rev of a car engine–how we left off. You pressed against him harder and he held you tighter, no doubt recalling the same memory with pain in both of your hearts that beated just a little faster now. Whether it was because you were finally in each other’s arms again or the recollection of the memory or the thought of Leon leaving again in the morning–neither of you knew. 
“We should go inside,” you said quietly with your voice muffled a little from speaking against his chest. If you could, you would spend all day just resting your head on his chest, feeling his strong arms around you as he ran his hands through your hair, tranquil and quiet. Leon would be watching those awful game shows, ‘it’s just what’s on’ he would say–defending himself, and critiquing every person who fell from the high jumps and splashing into the water below. And you, nuzzled into his chest, would roll your eyes–seemingly annoyed at his choice in television that took his mind off things and his horrible jokes. But you would be equally invested in who would be the next champion and letting out the smallest laughs at his one-liners. They were so bad you had to. 
But those moments were few and far between. And now, with you gripping onto him as if that would do anything to change his mission tomorrow, those moments seemed too far away to comfort you, too impossible to happen in the near future. Your dreams of being kissed and swept off your feet at the aisle in a beautiful white dress that you got months before and spent weeks agonizing over all seemed too impossible and deluded to be of any comfort. ‘One day’ seemed to shatter gradually with every desperate kiss you gave him before he turned and walked away, not knowing when you’ll see him next–keeping your phone on at all times in case of a dreaded call from his colleagues telling you awful news. 
As long as he was alive, he would always come back to you. If it was a 45-minute drive or even a seven-hour flight, he would always come back–you knew that. You would always be his and he would always be yours. But those dreams, as long as he was on the move–like he always was– weren’t going to happen, you both knew that. 
“Yeah, don’t want you getting a cold,” Leon said, shaking you out of your thoughts that if left for just a few seconds longer would bring you to the brink of tears. Gently, he steered you inside by your shoulder, still holding you tight and rubbing his hand up and down your arm comfortingly and warming you up. You forgot you were in your nightgown, standing at the door in the middle of the cold night. But with Leon’s arms around you, it was hard to remember the coldness of anything else, all you felt was warmth. 
You took off his jacket, your hands lingering and brushing against his clothed arm as your dreary eyes drifted up to his face, seemingly sinking in on itself from too many years of this same cycle–over and over again. In late hours of lonely nights, with the smell of alcohol on his lips, he would whisper against your skin. ‘There’s no end to this,’ he would say with slurred words, collapsing into bed to place lazy kisses along your neck in a desperate attempt to regulate himself. ‘What’s the point of it all?’ he would say with a deep sigh as his fingers entangled with yours, laying back and sinking into his pillow as he gazed up at the ceiling with eyes that you swore looked like were about to cry. But the tears never came, not often at least, he reserved those for his time alone, away from you. 
“So pretty…” Leon breathed out as you hung up his jacket, his hands snaked around your waist from behind and you turned to see him eying you intently. His eyes flickered both from the anxiety that you didn’t want to feel him so close to you, not after everything he put you through, but also from scanning each of your features closely. Your pretty eyes that he got lost in, your hair that he loved to caress and stroke, your nose that would brush against his right before he kissed you. Leon was never one for taking photos, but you… he needed something to look at on those lonely trips away from you. But it was never enough. Leon would always soak you up before he left.
And even that wasn’t enough either. Nothing would be, not unless he fulfilled your dreams of a stable life with him. But that wasn’t possible. The thought made the rest of his thoughts spiral even more. So he did what he knew worked best at quelling those thoughts, or at least helped with dealing with them–getting close to you. 
You couldn’t help but sigh in appreciation at Leon’s arms around you, his hands caressing your hips on top of the thin fabric of your nightgown as they moved further downwards, down your thighs. As much as you wanted to stay distant and sad, getting ready for his departure in the morning, you tilted your head back onto his shoulder and a breathy sigh escaped your lips at the intimacy. The more you resist his affection, the less it will hurt when it gets taken away. But it was Leon. You could never resist him, not when his hands were trailing back up your thigh and bringing your nightgown with them. You could barely feel the tips of his fingers on you but the ever-so-gentle touch made you shiver in his arms, feeling his breath fan against your neck–which, thankfully, didn’t have the familiar smell of alcohol. 
Maybe some intimacy before Leon went would be good for you–to feel his touch against your blushing hot skin, feel his lips move with yours, feel him inside you. Your mind was already plagued with him, why not have your body remember the way he made you feel–why not have it yearn for him just as your aching heart did every second he was gone? But you knew whether he touched you or not, whether the night for the two of you contained chasing each other’s pleasure or not–that you would always feel the need for him. Conscious of it or not. 
“Want you,” he whispered, the desperation seeping through his voice and through his touch that turned into a gentle grip on your supple skin. Nothing could help him but you and the fact that he wasn’t sure if you even wanted him after he just broke the news of him leaving again and ruining yet another surprise, made him even more desperate. You could only nod quickly, turning around and muttering a quick “want you too” before crashing your lips against his as both your legs and his instinctively moved to the bedroom. Leon’s eyes flickered again, expecting distance from you but you could feel him smile ever so slightly against your lips in the tiniest bit of surprise. 
You clung to Leon throughout, the gnawing feeling of wanting him with you always seeping through. And similarly, Leon never broke contact with you. Whether it be his lips kissing and adoring every part of you or his hands gripping you tight as the sounds of your shared pleasure filled the dark and quiet room–Leon never let go. In the morning he would have to, but not now, not if he could make it. The touch and feeling of you was permanently engraved and etched into the grooves of his skin but on nights like these, where he has to confront the feeling of leaving you time and time again, it would never be enough. 
———
You should’ve known better. As you laid next to him on your side, your chest still raggedly heaving from the all-consuming pleasure Leon always made you feel, the distraction from your ever-growing worried thoughts was gone. They just got even worse. Not even the gentle feeling of Leon’s hand in your hair, the other rubbing your arm soothingly, and his words of asking if you were okay and praising you could do anything to stop the impending doom you felt festering in the pit in your stomach. The tremble and uncertainty in his voice were unmistakable even though it was clear he tried to hide it. You tried to focus on his hands on you, the warmth you felt under the covers next to him and the feeling of his soft hair against your neck as he nestled in your neck and rested on your shoulders. You knew he was needy. You were too. Needy for distraction, for him. 
But he was leaving in the morning. And that was that. 
The more you felt Leon’s touch against you, the soft caress of his hands on your arm or through your hair, the more you could feel the absence of it that was to come. You knew all too well how physically painful it was, how every part of you yearned for his return. So, you turned around in your shared bed so your back was facing him, unable to get the rush of thoughts to stop. Leon’s thoughts must be running as quickly as yours too. But the pain of your worry that weighed on your shoulders, pressing you so deeply into the mattress below as if you were sinking into it, was too much to bear.
If it was any other time, you would soothe him the night before he left, no matter how painful. This time though, you would leave him alone with his thoughts and lay in silence, your back against him and looking at the wall with bleak eyes because your own thoughts–let alone his–were too much in itself. 
Now it wasn’t the thought of living without his affection and presence temporarily that worried you, that plagued your mind and made you grind your teeth together as you looked at the wall with teary eyes. You didn’t know enough about Leon’s job to know the extent of how dangerous it was, but the hush-hush attitude from him and the few of his colleagues you had met and the injuries he came home with was indication enough. “You’d be the first to know,” Hunnigan said to you, with a forced smile, on one of the only times you had met her after you nervously brought up the topic of Leon’s… safety. Of course, you would be the first one contacted if… anything happened to him but that didn’t bring you solace whatsoever. Whatever bastard that stood over his body would be the first. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. Leon always tried his best to give you updates when he could, one word was enough. 
But the thought that you could be doing literally anything, living a life while he didn’t have one anymore sent all the tears you had repressed for too long to come flowing down your cheeks. 
Would this time be the time that took not only his love away from you but his life too?
Your distance didn’t go unnoticed by Leon. Almost every other time, you would be nestled into his arms and he would gently soothe you to sleep, knowing you wanted to spend every waking moment possible with him before he left so you tried your best to stay awake. But now, you laid on your side with your back facing him, curled in on yourself. He stared at your back and wondered what your face looked like; just the usual urge to just stare at you all day long before he left for a mission, but most importantly because he wanted to know what he was doing to you, what loving someone like him was doing to you. Leon’s eyes trailed down to your legs to see you weren’t only hunched over with your back facing him but you were curled up in a ball with your thighs against your chest. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up into his arms but he knew better not to. 
That was when he heard it. A stifled sob. The impact of it sent a tremor throughout your body that made you flinch and curl into yourself more. 
Leon could feel every cell in his body crumble and shatter, sinking and disintegrating into the plush mattress beneath him–the one the two of you bought after a day of you flinging yourself onto every mattress in the store as you held his hand and sent him tumbling down with you. With every sniffle and ragged breath he heard, with every sight of your body trembling as you held in your sobs, Leon felt every piece of him crumble before his eyes.
The only thing keeping him together after years of the same cycle was that at least, at least… he was a good partner to you, a loving one that put you before all else. Even though he faced near-death time and time again, to the point it felt like an old friend–an obsessive one–but a friend nonetheless, at least… at least you were happy. But you were not. The same things that crushed him, that threatened to take his last piece of sanity, crushed you too. 
———
Now it was Leon’s turn to cry, alone in his car as he gripped the steering wheel, far away from your worried eyes that looked at him as if it were the last time you’d ever see him. It might be, there was always that risk. He just didn’t realize the extent of how badly that tore you apart until you stifled your desolate sobs the night before, the sound that crumbled every part of him that he knew. A few stray tears trickled down Leon’s face, unable to control the slight tremble in his lips–something that always happened on the rare occasions he would cry. He hated it. 
It wasn’t just the pain of living without you and leaving you that festered within Leon, now he couldn't get rid of the sight of you curled up in the bed you both shared with tears streaming down your face. In his imagination, you would be lying on your side–not crying–with a smile on your face, doing one of your hobbies that he probably didn't understand but loved that it made you smile anyway. You would be happy. You would miss him–of course, you would–he wanted you to miss him. But you would be happy. But those stifled sobs in the silence of your bedroom late at night came back to haunt him. He knew whatever he was thinking about–your smile–wasn’t true.
All Leon could do was grip the steering wheel as he drove, blinking away tears so he could see the road in front of him–a road that led him further and further away from you. 
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© emilzke : please do not copy, translate, or repost my works.
1K notes · View notes
uhlunaro · 11 months
Text
FAIR PLAY
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pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader
summary: You’ve both made a bet, and neither of you are keen on losing. To even the playing field, you try something new—something that vibrates.
words: 3.5k
warnings: 18+ only (switch!leon, bindings, light choking)
notes: anon sent me an imagine that turned into a brainworm. and this is the result. i'm gonna go take a nap now jfc (added like 1k words from the first version)
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You’re nervous. He’s smug as usual, wrists cradled in silk, tied to the bedpost. Shirt hiked up to his chest, pants unbuttoned.
A bet gone wrong, of sorts. That’s why you’re here—christ, not like you’re complaining. The view is wonderful, and anticipation leaves you fidgeting atop his thighs.
“Do your worst,” he says, little more than a thick rumble. He wants this, and he does little to hide his impatience. The clench of his jaw, the twist of his wrists.
“You don’t think this is my worst?” you ask, ghosting fingers over the divot of his hip, skirting close to the slick length of his cock. His abdomen twitches, and your lips stretch into a grin.
“I know you. Wouldn’t show your cards this early.”
“Think you can take a little more?”
“I’ll take whatever you give me.”
Fuck. You’re a sucker for his vulnerability, and that one sentence doles out enough to overdose you. The look in his eyes, severity in devotion. 
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not playing fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war, right?”
Right. This is a battle of resilience, of wills. Much like sparring: assessing weaknesses, waiting for openings, a final blow.
Fucking and fighting don’t seem too different, after all.
“If that’s the case, you’ll be taking a lot more.”
His face falls when you climb off the bed, and the frame creaks as he jerks his arms in an attempt to free himself.
You level an unamused glare at his agitated form. “Don't be so dramatic. I’ll be back.”
“You’re evil. You know that?”
You sift around inside the bottom drawer of the dresser and lift out an indiscriminate cardboard box, then rise back up and turn to him, your eyes drained of jest. “Just say the word and we’ll stop.”
He’s stubborn, but he knows his boundaries. Knows yours. He promised you when this all started that he would never let you continue if he grew uncomfortable. And while these circumstances are rare, the type of play you engage in only when the mood strikes, he’s never crossed that line.
“No. No, I’m good.”
You join him on the bed again, take a seat on his thighs, and place the box on the sheets beside you. “In that case, I have a surprise.”
He blanches when you present to him a bullet vibrator, smooth and baby blue. A personal favorite of yours. “That’s not—“
“What? Fair?”
He stews in his frustration, furrows his brow and clenches his fists into the silk bindings. You press a soft kiss just below his sternum, soothe a comforting hand up and down his side, give a teasing lick to the head of his cock. 
“Damn you,” he huffs, a ruddy blush set high on his cheeks, eyes lidded and glossy.
He isn’t angry. Most likely an effort on his part to keep up bratty, combative appearances, lest he give in and break the bet altogether.
Regardless, your lips stretch into a boasting grin, and you lick a heavy, lingering trail from base to tip. He sighs out all jilted and stuttery, jaw relaxing, brows angled in upturn. Once again jerks the headboard forward.
“You’re gonna break that thing, so unless your idea of sexy is waiting twelve hours in the emergency room, I suggest you stop.”
“Just get on with it already,” he says, voice bordering on a growl that coils pleasured heat at the base of your spine.
“We’re making a bet, remember? Unless you’ve already lost.”
His head thumps back against the pillow, and you already miss the sight of his face. Can’t deny that you’re frustrated as well—how easy it would be to just raise up and sink down on his cock, all pretty and thick and slicked-up, just for you.
But the first one to give in loses, and you aren’t a quitter.
Unfortunately, neither is he.
He’s weighty against your tongue, tastes like the body wash from his earlier shower and the salt of precum, something beneath it all that leaves your mouth watering.
You bob your head up and down his length, and he spreads his legs as far as your knees allow, and the headboard bangs against the wall.
He pants above you, grunts out a chest-deep moan, and you gaze at his destruction with a mouthful of wet cock, swallowed down to the base, stuffed inside the tight sheath of your throat.
Just before he breaks, before you begin to gag, you pull away with a gasp of air. Spread the spit with a fisted hand.
He looks as fucked out as you feel, staring down at you with stain-glass eyes, a church window blue, and you’ve never really believed in the heavenly divine until you met him. A craving to worship.
The vibrator buzzes to life in hand, almost numbs the skin of your fingers with its intensity, and he stares down at the thing as if it gnashes sharp teeth.
“You wanna stop, you say the word.” He nods in response, throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
At the first touch against his skin, he jolts. Twists his face into a mark of pleasure-pain, bares the edges of clenched teeth. You ghost tight circles over his frenulum, the spit from earlier providing an easy glide.
He sounds pitiful beneath you, an offbeat rhythm of staccato whimpers that he muffles with a raised arm. His hips refuse to still, unsure whether to tilt forward or dig further into the mattress.
You steady your hand, press the toy more firmly against his cock, and he chokes out a pleasured sob—a noise so much prettier when he doesn’t seek to hide from you.
A hand curls around the front of his neck. A thumb soothes the line of his jaw. “Let me hear you. Please?”
He turns to face you, appearing almost agonized. The sharp sucks of breath through grit teeth, the high-pitched whines on each exhale. The dotting of sweat on his nose, the wetting of his hairline.
You twist the knob, and the vibration increases. His chest seizes for a moment, head tilting back to expose the thick line of his neck, a halo of golden hair upon the pillow. Your hand rises higher, fits nicely beneath his jaw, fingers resting upon his pulse—it hammers away beneath your touch, calls to you in rhythm. 
“If I could, I’d keep you like this forever.” A soft kiss to the side of his neck. “So pretty, aren’t you?”
You’re going mad, you think. You blame it on blood drain, a lack of proper oxygen to your brain. He trusts you to care for him like this, to provide what he needs, to know his limits. You. You. When have you ever felt more important? More powerful?
You tease a squeeze, barely a twitch of the fingers, but he reacts in kind. Bares his neck even further, chants out, “Fuck, yes, yes, please—“ and you’ve never been strong enough to deny him.
Your fingers tighten, and the vibration increases again. Only a few moments before his body gives you warning—he holds his breath, his muscles tense, his cock begins to jerk—
You pull away, the hand at his neck and the hand clutching the vibrator, until the heaving of his chest calms and his body slumps. Disappointed.
“This’s what you’re playing at?” he asks, tongue amidst the onset of word slurring.
You move to hover over him, hands braced on either side of his head. “Part of the bet. Remember?”
“No, actually.” He blinks up at you all bleary-eyed and slow, mesmerized, as if witnessing daylight stars for the first time. “I’m sure it was stupid as hell, though.”
“How about we make a deal? A truce.”
“A truce?”
“Admit we both won, and we can get to the point.”
“What do I get out of it?”
“You get to cum.”
He blinks. Considers a moment. Raises his brows. “Shit. Can’t argue with that.”
You steady yourself with a hand on his chest as you reach back to line him up. 
“Wait,” he says, voice croaking, and you stop. “Flashlight. Untie me.”
The knot you used is easy to unravel. Just a quick tug and he’s free. Rings of red encase each wrist, a sign of irritation, and you huff at him. Soothe a thumb over the skin. “What did I tell you—“
You’re shoved face-first into the bedsheets, and a heavy weight pins down your hips. A large hand presses steadfast between your shoulder blades.
You turn your face to catch a breath, and his lips meet your cheek. Soft and tender and loving, and you know he’s not angry with you, at all the teasing he (willingly) suffered at your hands.
“Hold still for me,” he says. A thick heat shifts between your legs, and the hand pushes harder on your back. “You did good. Think you deserve a reward.”
He slides into you, all tight and slick and you thank every god above that you prepared beforehand because he’s determined to cash in on that orgasm.
Each thrust jolts your body. A slow, deep cadence that leaves your ass smacking against his hips and a numbing pleasure curling like smoke from the pit of your stomach.
He whispers things unintelligible, spoken at the end of winded huffs. You like to think he whispers of you. His love. He’s never been vocal through the lens of verbage. Never could take dirty talk seriously. Maybe now, you witness him in his purest form, at his most vulnerable. Pinned down as you are, you certainly feel that way.
The rhythm of his hips stops, and you fist a hand in the sheets as he bottoms out, deep as your body will allow, curls protective over you, almost shielding in the way his arms bracket your shoulders.
“Jesus—fuck, Leon.” You grip hard at his wrist, attempt a tilt of your hips, but he has you right where he wants you. Filled up, restless, whining. “Listen, I’m sorry.”
He’s not angry, no, but he’s always had a penchant for revenge.
You just want him to move. Too much, too good, too hot. You sweat into the sheets, and he’s a space heater on the coldest days, and your heart threatens to break through the cage of your ribs.
“This isn’t about punishment,” he says, nosing along your jaw. “Here.”
He leans back, allowing you to brace your knees under your body, then smooths a hand down your spine. Spreads the cheeks of your ass, traces a thumb around the meeting of your bodies, the thick of his cock.
“You take me so well. Don’t you?”
You garble out an agreeing moan when he begins again with languid thrusts, a squelching savor of tightened silk, much like the discarded bindings on the pillow beside your head.
“You’re gonna kill me,” you say, pawing at the spread of his fingers, fitting your palm over the back of his hand.
“You can take it.”
He is. He’s going to kill you. You need more, something else, harder, fuck me, please—
He pins you down again, a large hand at your neck, pulls out until the tip remains inside you, pushes back in, hard enough that you jolt forward. Does it again and again and again.
“This more to your liking?” he asks, almost mocking, then follows the question up with a biting groan.
Yes. Yes yes it is. You think you’re drooling onto the pillow at this point. His hips angle perfectly, length brushing against the nerves that melt away at your insides. A burning, desperate intensity.
He notices the way your muscles tense, the way your breathing shallows, the way your thighs twitch. You’re close, and you pray he doesn’t stop.
You lower a hand between your legs, stroke fast over sensitive flesh, and he lets you. Hisses through his teeth when you tighten around him, gives a warning gasp before his cock jerks inside you, and he pulls out to spill onto your back. You’re left unbearably empty, sticky and warm at the base of your spine, muscles wrung free of tension.
Everything blurs. Your ears ring with static. He joins you, splaying out on his back, and he fares no better—breathless, laved in sweat that glistens beneath warm light, face ruddy at the cheeks. Beautiful. He looks beautiful. Beautiful and exhausted.
“That was. Good,” he says. Clears the gravel from his throat, an ego-boosting effect of all the lovely noises you pulled from him.
Your heart pounds, wracked by butterflies. The post-sex clarity has kicked in, and you always love him even more, every time your brain starts working again. All you wish to do is hold him. Remind him of what your love feels like, bathe him in under-appreciated intimacies.
“Just good?”
He breathes out all shaky, an attempt to reaffirm the rhythm inside his chest. “I can barely move right now. Cut me some slack.”
You rest a hand on his shoulder, ghost fingers over the echoed warmth of his skin. “Was that okay?”
“Very. Wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
“Maybe you could tone down the brattiness next time.”
“Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“That is a fair point, Leon.” You smile soft at him, brush your knuckles over a feverish cheek, a depiction of devotion. All you can give for now. “Do you need anything?”
He shakes his head. Takes your hand. Presses a tender kiss to your palm. “We should shower later. Not now, though.”
You know him. He wants to be held. Always does when reduced to skin-shed vulnerability. He won’t say it, has rarely admitted it, but he looks at you with starry eyes and seeks out the pulse of your wrist, and you never have to wonder with him.
“Give me your shirt,” you say, point to the drying mess on your back, and his expression morphs to blankness. “Don’t look at me like that. It was your idea.”
With a resigned sigh, he takes it off, and you aim a pointed glare his way as he wipes the fabric over the small of your back.
“What a gentleman.”
“Have I ever been anything less?”
Once the shirt is tossed aside, you pull him into a cradling hug. Tuck his head beneath your chin and trace a languid pattern over a muscled shoulder. “That’s debatable.”
Silence blankets the room as you return to a less winded state. He presses further against your chest, fits his ear over the gentle thump of your heartbeat. “You lost the bet, by the way.”
“See what I mean?”
His breath fans over your skin as he laughs, teeth teasing a bite against your clavicle. “I deserve that. Just as long as you give me my reward.”
“I’m letting this slide only because I’m too tired. So just… wait ‘til I can go to the store tomorrow.”
“No problem. I have the patience of a saint. Not like you’d understand.”
“Okay, you’re pushing it.”
“As I most often do.”
In the shower, both of you sit curled up on the hard tile, slumped beneath a spray of warm water. He complains when you reach for the shampoo bottle, when you rise onto your knees and tilt back his head. Of course he does. Wouldn’t know a thing about deservation if you hammered it into his skull.
“You’re gonna hurt your knees,” he says, looks up at you as your fingers lather the shampoo through his hair.
“I don’t care.” The ceiling light sparks a gleam in his eyes. Bonfire, galaxy, fractals. Soft as tears. You ghost a kiss between his brows. “If I did, I wouldn’t have offered.”
He falls silent. Closes his eyes. Steam fogs up the small space, smudges your vision as you massage fingertips against the base of his skull.
“That feels nice,” he says, swallows thick when you switch to light scratches over his scalp.
“Good. It’s supposed to.”
Hands circle around each of your thighs, thumb swiping over dewdrop flesh. He’s nervous, wary. “You don’t have to—“
“Leon. Will you just let me care about you? Please?”
“I am. Doesn't mean I’m happy about it.”
You pull away to fetch a cup from the shelf then hold it beneath the shower spray. Watch as it fills then overflows. “Well, that’s too bad. Does make me sad, though.”
His struggles have never been explicit topics of conversation, but they linger around him like ghosts. Demons, morelike. He discusses them in coded messages, a recitation of redacted files marred by black sharpie. What you’ve pieced together so far can be reduced to survivor’s guilt and earth-shattering trauma.
Raccoon City. Had no business leaving there alive. A stroke of unluck. Forced to exist with those consequences, to carry along such senseless deaths in ceaseless eulogy.
But you’re happy he did, couldn’t imagine a life without his presence, and that’s… that’s hard for him to accept.
“You wanna watch a movie after this?” you ask, slicking back his freshly-rinsed hair. “I got a bunch from that video store while you were gone.”
He wipes a hand down his face, shakes off the excess water. Collapses back against the wall with a soft thud, appearing boneless, malleable from your affections. “Willy’s place?”
“Who else’s?”
His gaze darkens, brows knit together in remembrance, and you lean a shoulder against the water-dappled wall. Curl your legs beneath you. “He hasn’t said anything else to you, has he?”
“No. Actually, he’s been on his best behavior. Even gave me a free movie.”
“Good.”
“By the way, what’d you even say to him?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You saying that makes me even more worried.”
He pulls you close, throws both legs across his—again, comfort in skinship. A greedy undertone to the action, (mine), that rends your insides to putty. “I took care of it.”
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. In fact, you never fail to remind me.” You snort out a laugh, and he smiles at you all beautiful and worshiping, a stretch of inviting lips.
“Because you need to be reminded.”
You can’t be too angry with him. He needs the peace of mind. At least he knows, wholly, absolutely, that your safety is ensured.
He often makes mountains out of molehills, though. Such as the situation with one Willy from Willy’s Wiles. An angry Leon does one inappropriate comment make.
The man was an asshole, though. 
You scrub yourselves with a sweet-smelling body wash, from the (dis)comfort of the hard tile flooring. Sleepiness morphs into exhaustion some time between the first and second leg. Yawns become frequent and unavoidable. As you rinse off, the water raining from the shower head begins to cool.
Still, neither of you plan to move, and your stomach twists in disapproval.
You sigh at him, into the curve of his shoulder. “I hate to say it, but we gotta get up. There are things to be done.”
He’s nodded off four different times, yet he audaciously cuts you with a glare. “Says who?”
“Our water bill, my ass on this tile,” you stumble up to your feet, balancing a hand against the wall for support. “I’m also really hungry.”
“Food does sound pretty good.”
You push the knob in, and the shower turns off. “You thinking take-out?”
“Absolutely. You couldn’t pay me to cook right now.”
“Damn. The sex was that good, huh?”
“If you have to ask, then—“
“No. Don’t start.”
As he rises, his lips stretch wide into a grin. Droplets dot his chest, a glisten to his skin that you spread with tender palms. 
“What are you doing?” he asks, amusement thick in his tone, brows dipped low as he searches your face.
“Drying you off.” A blatant lie. You simply wish to touch him, to soak up his warmth—a reminder that he’s still here, still okay, still alive. “A little counterproductive, now that I’m thinking about it.”
You step away from him with a sigh, no matter how badly your chest aches. Something about him makes you short-circuit, makes you do silly things. You can’t help it, knowing what you know.
Mallets and hammers prove ineffective on his psyche. He’s stubborn, needs a gentler approach. Kind words, affirmations, intimacy—above all, he requires safety. Security. A four-walled sanctuary where he’s free to flay open his chest and bare his heart a while. 
And you like to think you’ve made some progress.
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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year
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You felt the pressure of a pair of lips against the base of your neck, as a pair of arms slipped over and into your waist firmly; causing your body to freeze up under the sudden contact but melt soon after you heard his raspy voice.
‘You left me alone in bed,’ Leon muttered against your skin as he pressed one last kiss there before shifting his attention to your shoulders, ‘that’s a criminal offence.’
You snorted, ‘to who?’
‘Me.’ He muttered a little sluggish against the fabric of his your nightshirt. ‘Your boyfriend, Leon S. Kennedy.’
‘And what are you going to do about my criminal offence, mr Kennedy?’ You asked, playing along with his half asleep antics because they gave you an delightful insight to the big dumb dork your dating. Also it provided as a highlight for the start of your day.
‘In due to this not being the first time you’ve left me alone in a cold bed. Your punishment is to return to bed with me and do your time by giving me cuddles as repetition.’ Leon responded, his hold on your sides tightening.
Something which didn’t go unnoticed by you as a smile played on your lips as you leaned against his chest.‘Given with how tight you’re holding me, it looks as though I’ve got no choice by the comply to your demands.’
Leon chuckled as he lifted his head from your shoulder, pressing another flurry of kisses to your cheek, making you squeal and attempt in getting away from him but only did so in a halfheartedly manner from how relaxed your body was under Leon’s comforting, strong and warm touch. ‘That sounds like the best course of action because if you haven’t, I would have to resort to drastic measures.’ After saying this Leon moved his fingers to tickle your sides lightly, earning him a firm swat to the back of his hands.
‘I said I’d come back to bed and cuddle you, didn’t I?’ You cried, looking over your shoulder at the blue eyed male with a small glare, while Leon only looked back at you with a successful smile. ‘When I started dating you I didn’t sign up to be torture tickled!’ You added, making Leon chuckle as he then began to drag you back to your shared room.
‘Back to bed we go!’ He chanted along the way.
In the end, you and Leon spent the entire day in bed, only getting up for food, shower, a change of clothes and using the toilet.
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ovaryacted · 3 months
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FORGOTTEN DREAMS
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PAIRING: DI!Leon x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: Coming back from his mission to Alcatraz, Leon wasn't expecting to have old desires from his past haunt him at his current age. Being his partner, you comfort him and try to fulfill his hidden wishes.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Smut. Porn with some plot. Angsty at the beginning. Brief talks of trauma. Established relationship (Leon & Reader are engaged/married). Assumed ages (Leon is 38, Reader is an adult so 25+). Breeding Kink (reciprocated both ways). Mating Press. Creampie. Unprotected sex (p/v). Oral Sex (f receiving). Dirty Talk. Multiple Orgasms. Domesticity. Intimacy. Relationship conversations.
WC: 3.6k
NOTES: Hey, surprise surprise. I don't know where this came from, but I just started thinking about older Leon as a dad, and paired with me ovulating, I came up with this. Wanted to get something out before the end of the year, so I hope you like it. Happy New Year from wherever you are! As always, shoutout to Fae bae @kennedyswhore for helping me refine this piece, comments & reblogs are always appreciated!
✰ ── 《 Navigation ⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ AO3 》
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Leon always believed he couldn’t have the things he’s always wanted, that he was destined for a life of misery.
Ever since that night in September all those years ago, he’d lost hope of the idea of the American Dream, a fantasy that was destroyed by the horrors of the same country he was forced to serve and protect. He once imagined his life would be different, living in the suburbs in a house with a white picket fence. Perhaps he’d have a pretty spouse, a few kids, maybe even a dog, he was always fond of bloodhounds and golden retrievers.
But of course, that wasn’t his reality.
So he accepted his fate the moment he miraculously made it out alive from Raccoon City, letting go of any control he had to change his life. He didn’t expect to live this long in the first place, foregoing any extensive plans for a future that remained uncertain with every mission he was sent on. No matter what he did, he remained stuck in a never-ending loop of dread, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop to be released from the torment of a life he did not choose to have.
That was, until he met you. He didn’t know how he managed to get so lucky to experience a sense of normalcy in his life, albeit it felt like he was always dreaming, waiting for the moment he’d wake up and see you slip away in his arms.
But you didn’t, you never left.
Leon wakes up every morning with the opportunity to take a glimpse at your sleeping face, taking every feature you had into memory. You granted him the chance to experience domesticity, something that was foreign to him at first, but he got adjusted to it and quickly began to crave it. You were what he wanted, a chance at peace in the hellscape that was his life. And over time, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind when he popped the question and happily slipped a ring on your finger when you told him yes.
Having someone waiting back at home was another added motivation for Leon to make it out alive, to return to you. All he ever wants is to be able to fall asleep in your arms after a long day, to have his head nuzzling into your neck and hear you giggling when his stubble tickled you too much. It was what he needed, and he silently thought that after all this time, as long as he had you he’d be happy.
That was why when he came back after his mission to Alcatraz, his new thoughts began to take him off guard. The same desires he had buried for so long slipped out of the crevices of his mind and began to plague him. The desire for more, for the things he never thought he could have. It was like his biological time clock was quickly turning into a ticking time bomb of anxiety ready to explode if it were suppressed any longer. He already had more than what he bargained for, he was alive, he had a home, and he had you. That should be enough, more than enough.
So why does he want more? Wanting anything else felt wrong and undeserving, so he never vocalized it. But you could tell something was on his mind and had been bothering him since he had returned.
It first started with the longing stares, where you’d often catch Leon looking your way a bit too fondly, as if he were taking you in for the last time before looking away. He was always an affectionate person, at least around you, but he was growing clingy. He was never that far away, usually holding your hand and caressing your fingers, cuddling up with you, and stroking your body whenever he could. Not to mention the sex, it was always passionate, always fun, and enjoyable, but recently it was as if Leon did it so frequently with so much vigor that you almost got worried.
No matter how calm he seemed, you knew him well enough to read him by now, and the small changes in his behavior showed you that something else was going on, that he was acting differently. 
“You’re thinking again”, you stated matter-of-factly, watching Leon stare off in the distance as he rubbed his bottom lip over and over again. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the present as he glanced at you.
“I’m getting old”, he said with a sigh, rubbing your legs that were currently propped up on his thighs from where you lay on the bed with him.
“You’re not getting old, you’re getting older. Big difference”, you commented, hearing him chuckle under his breath. That wasn’t entirely what he meant, but he didn’t know how to say what he wanted without possibly scaring you away or jinxing himself.
“Are you happy? With me I mean?”, he asked you the question in a soft tone, not to signal that he was unhappy with your relationship, but rather he was thinking about something regarding you being together.
“Of course I am. You make me happy. I wouldn’t have said yes if that wasn’t the case”, you told him reassuringly, moving closer to him to hold him by the cheek.
“I guess what I’m asking is are you happy with just me, just us”, Leon said the question as if he were afraid, and you raised an eyebrow to gauge his reaction.
“Leon, if you want to get a pet or something we can. I think a cat would be kinda nice”, you said to him, and he looked at you with a wide grin before he laughed, actually laughed. For a second you’re assuming you said something wrong, but when he regains his bearings, he grabs a hold of your hand and runs his thumbs over your knuckles.
“Although a pet sounds good, that’s not exactly what I’m talking about”, he offered you a smile, giving you a second to think harder about his suggestion when he could see the lightbulb going off at the top of your head.
Kids?
“You’ve been thinking about kids?”
“Is it bad that I am?”
In a way, the revelation that Leon was thinking of having a family was surprising and took you off guard. When you met him, he initially struck you as a family man or someone who would want that down the line. So when he told you that wasn’t on his mind nor a goal of his, you took his word for it and stayed with him because that didn’t bother you, you loved him anyway. Now, it seems that he’s had a change of heart, and it sparked your interest.
“Well no…I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Thought you told me you never wanted them?”, you asked him, leaning into him closer and putting a warm hand on his chest.
“I said that because I didn’t think I could have them. But since coming back from Alcatraz…I don’t know, I keep thinking about it”, he shrugged under you, not meeting your gaze and looking down to the floor.
“I wanted a family when I was younger, but with all the shit I went through I just didn’t think it was possible, or that I could have it. So I simply forgot about it. But now..it popped back into my head and I’ve been thinking about it for a while”
Your eyes softened as you looked at him, seeing the gears turning in his mind. 
“It’s probably the old man hormones or something, I must be having a mid-life crisis”, he was joking, trying to use his humor to downplay how he felt, the way he usually did when he was dealing with something that made him uneasy.
“Babe, if you’re thinking about having kids you should’ve told me. I don’t mind you know, I think it’s endearing”, you whispered to him, now holding his face in your hands and offering him your warm gaze.
“So you don’t think I’m crazy for wanting them? Now of all times? I don’t think I should be wanting more than I already have”, you shook your head at that, knowing that Leon would feel guilty for having desires, that he had no room to be selfish.
“I think you deserve to have everything you want, regardless of what they may be. And if kids are on the list, then that’s okay, it’s what you want”, you were speaking to him in a confident voice, the one you used when you were trying to gently knock some sense into him.
“I don’t even know if you want them, with me anyway”, his eyebrows furrowed, hellbent on the assumption that you wouldn’t think twice about avoiding having children, much less have them with him.
“You aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about them you know”, his eyes widened at your confession, and your smile turned a bit sheepish.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. Guess the hormones are also working overtime for me”
Leon blinked once, then twice. You fixated on the way the blues of his irises shifted, reminiscent of the clear sky after a storm had passed. But in reality, what you were looking at was hope interwoven in his eyes, a rare emotion that you’ve only seen a handful of times.
“Is that a yes then?”, you could see the way his lips began to curl up, an optimistic grin plastered on his face now, looking for an answer that would calm the excited beating of his heart. 
“If you want to try, then we can try. And whatever happens, happens”, you reassured him once more, feeling him sit up straighter on the bed to kiss you on the lips.
“I love you, you know that?”
“You’ve told me a few times, but I don’t mind reminders”, you grinned at him, finding yourself tackled to the bed the next moment with laughs filling the room.
-
The next few days felt like a blur, basking in the domestic bliss that otherwise would’ve been a rarity for Leon, he found ways to keep you occupied.
Just like he did now.
Currently with your back on the bed, Leon’s head was between your plush thighs, lapping away at your cunt sometime at noon. It was Sunday, a day of rest meant to hide away from all of your responsibilities and chores. But of course, Leon had different plans when it came to keeping you busy.
“Fuck Leon”, you said with a loud moan, a light layer of sweat covering your body as your fingers yanked at his head, bringing him closer to where you wanted him. Leon groaned against you, tongue curling around your pulsing clit and forcing an arch in your back.
He already pulled one release out of you earlier, right after he found you on the couch wearing nothing but a worn-out T-shirt of his you stole years ago. He couldn’t help but fall in between your legs, head against your chest so he could listen to your heart beating in his ear. The comforting rhythm put Leon at ease, his hands running down the length of your thighs and kneading at your skin while you watched whatever show was currently on the screen. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, already seeing the mischievousness he had written all over his face.
“What are you doing?”, your attention moved from the TV screen to the top of his head, focused on the movement of his hands on your body.
“Nothing”, he told you playfully, his hands were already slipping under the edge of where your shirt covered the top of your hips. He shifted higher up to place a kiss on your lips, moving to your neck and nipping at you gently.
“Just keep watching your show”
It was the last thing he told you before his fingers found refuge in the welcoming warmth of your pussy, rubbing at your clit as you quickly forgot about the plot twist happening in front of you. He was a distraction, as he always was, but you’d never turn him away, you couldn’t even if you tried. And now, you were willingly paying the price of his affection.
Heat started to build up in your lower spine the more you felt Leon’s mouth on you, his needy tongue flicking against every sensitive spot you had before burrowing inside you. It was muscle memory for him, knowing exactly what to do and how to make you fall apart with skill. With every moan you gave, every twitch and shake of your body, Leon drank it all, trying to drown himself in the intensity of your pleasure whenever he had you like this. In between your legs, sucking away at where you needed him most, it was where he belonged.
Your hips were against his face, grinding into him and having his nose press into your clit again, pulling another airy whimper out of you. His hair was wrapped around your fingers, trying to listen in to the shameless sounds Leon made when more of your slick entered his mouth. To him, you tasted like honey, sweet on his tongue like molasses. It was something that curbed his sweet tooth, completely addicted to a taste that only you created when he made you feel good.
“I’m gonna cum, fuck f-fuck”, you didn’t need to announce it, Leon already knew from the way your walls were pulsating around his tongue that you were getting close.
Slipping away from your clenching hole, his tongue went up to run circles against your nub, sucking at it in pulses and snapping the rope of tension in your gut. Your breathing remained stuck in your throat as your second release ran through you, your shaky thighs pinned to his broad shoulders and his mouth continued to prolong your climax. He didn’t stop until the waves of your orgasm calmed down and ebbed away, where only a light pleasurable numbness remained and a dumb smile was left on your face.
No longer feeling you convulsing around him, Leon gave your clit one last kiss before coming back up from between your legs, matching your smile with one of his own. Plush lips covered in your essence, his charm radiated off of him every time he achieved the feat of making you cum.
“Feel good?”, he said teasingly, meshing his lips with yours with a pleasant hum. His tongue curled around your own, giving you a taste of yourself that you graciously took and reveled in. 
“I feel good, but I can feel better”, you drew away from his face, giving him a smirk and tugging him closer to you by the waistband of his briefs. With a sneaky hand, you slipped your fingers underneath the soft cotton, gripping his hard length to touch him properly. You heard him grunt again, his breath hitching when you took his earlobe between your teeth and whispered at him.
“I want you inside me already”, you practically purred at him, a shiver running through him followed by another chuckle. Your vulgarity wasn’t new, but it was always something Leon found amusing.
“Yeah? You need me to fuck you sweetheart?”, he wasn’t asking you necessarily, more so reiterating facts that didn’t need your confirmation. Because you did want him to fuck you, you needed it and he knew it. Your hazy eyes watched as he stripped off his briefs, instinctively opening your legs for him, a silent invitation that you craved more.
“Want you to fuck a baby into me”
For a second Leon froze, his eyes widening at your words as they rang in his head. The phrase alone did something to him, brought out a new primal instinct he didn’t know existed until now. It festered carnal lust deep in his gut that shot in two directions, up towards his chest with his heart beating rapidly, and in the opposite way where all of his blood began rushing down south. He blinked at you, the blues of his eyes darkening to a sharp cobalt, and in the next second, he was on you so quickly it almost gave you whiplash.
The tip of his cock teased your entrance with two rubs before being sheathed deep inside in one easy thrust. Your body gave no resistance, welcoming the feeling of Leon stretching you out just the way you liked. Strong hands digging into the back of your thighs, he pushed your knees down against the mattress and closer to your chest, letting him slip that much deeper into you and leaving you gasping underneath him.
Dragging his hips back once before slamming back into you with intention, Leon fucked you without restraint, pinning you down against the mattress and ruining you for any other person, past, present, and future. He didn’t change his pace, filling in every possible gap, his dick hitting your deepest spots and kissing your cervix with every push and pull of his body. You swear you could feel him trying to breach your womb, the thought alone turning your head to mush. The urge of wanting him to leave his mark inside you grew like never before, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with another broken sob coming from your lips.
“Gonna fill you up. Is that what you want?”, he muttered, huffing out a breath and pounding his hips into you harshly to where the room filled with an audible skin-slapping sound.
“Yes, yes, I need it so bad!”, you felt him shift, forcing your knees down until they were parallel to your ears and effectively putting you into a mating press. His torso leaned more into you, caging you in and taking in your fucked out face with pride.
“Need me to breed you? Fuck a baby into you, huh?”, letting go of one of your legs to press his thumb against your clit, he rubbed against it and felt you clench around his cock. Your grip on the bedsheets tightened, bleary eyes looking up into him as he fucked you with determination.
“Yeah, I’ll make you a momma don’t you worry”
He said it like it was a promise, a sacred vow he didn’t plan on breaking. It was harsh fucking that was usually reserved for whenever you were both stressed and pent up. But now he was on a mission, making it his personal goal to not stop until he gave you what you both desired.
In the back of his mind, he was imagining what you would look like pregnant. The soft expanse of your stretched-out tummy that continues to grow as your child develops along with you. He pictured the way your body will start to fill in a bit more, becoming more soft and curvy in spots you didn’t consider previously. The heaviness of your breasts and the changes in sensitivity when they filled up with milk, something that he can’t wait to see and taste for himself. Every image that filled his head only made his cock throb and his thrusting intensify.
“Gonna look so pretty, all round for me”, he was lost in his thoughts, mumbling to himself and driving into you so good he hit that soft spot tucked inside. Your mind had turned to static, his words only bringing you that much closer to the edge and your legs shaking from how they were bent.
“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, make sure it catches, right here”, he placed a finger right underneath your belly button and pressed into your skin, the friction of his touch rapidly sending you into your next orgasm unexpectedly.
Throwing your head back against the pillow, you couldn’t warn Leon when you felt yourself coming again for him, your walls flexing around him and a wail filling the room. His thumb continued to stroke tight circles on your clit as he fucked you through your release, thrusting sloppily against you before cumming inside with a resounding grumble of your name. His hips were flushed with yours, grinding into you until he had nothing left to give, panting against your neck and kissing your nape.
You felt Leon slip out of you, gently putting your legs down back on the bed and his spend starting to drip down your thighs. With two of his fingers, he collected some of his release that spilled out of you and pushed it back inside your body, plugging you up with his digits to make sure none of it would dribble out.
“Can’t waste it, hold it there for me”, he said, making you keen and grip him tighter. Drawing out his fingers, he brought them to your lips, grinning when you wrapped your tongue around them to lick off the remnants of his taste.
“You think this one did it?”, you asked him tiredly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him soft pecks, growing clingy and wanting more of his affection.
“Hopefully, but there’s nothing wrong with a little more practice”, Leon smirked at you, giving you a wet passionate kiss and rekindling the flame of desire once more.
You knew that he wasn’t going to stop until he gave you what you both wanted, a happy family in a happy home. Of course, you had zero complaints, you’d do anything to make him happy and give him what he deserves.
Maybe just maybe, Leon will get his dream after all.
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roseglazedlens · 5 months
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⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥’𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ➠ series masterlist | ⏪prologue | 🔃boy’s route | ⏩resolution
𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 JILL VALENTINE X AFAB GN! READER ADA WONG X AFAB GN! READER synopsis: You split ways with Leon and Carlos, choosing to accompany Jill and Ada to Glenn Arias' office. One of you is already infected... content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dubcon, threesome, zombie fucking, oral (reader & f! receiving), toys (vibrator + strap-on in one hole), squirting, fisting, knifeplay, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, latex kink, face sitting, cervix penetration, tonguefuck, hand & finger kink, nipple play, mating press (kinda), choking, body marking, body horror, slight objectification, body fluids, and pet names (kitty, darling). a/n: am gay thanks for cumming to my ted talk « 6 k words | general masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »
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The five of you parted ways—for better or worse. Is there a choice for you anyway? This is unanimous from everyone. So, you decide to follow the most logical choice: complete the mission as you are instructed, instead of seeking distractions with time you can’t afford to lose.
Leon and Carlos bid the three of you farewell, venturing underground to locate the source of a gas that may or may not be a distraction or an ambush. You, Jill, and Ada will continue upstairs to infiltrate Glenn Arias’ personal office, retrieving the concentrated sample with utmost priority, and regroup with the rest before Arias has a chance to discover his merchandise has gone missing.
The plan is perfect, what’s there to be worried about?
“Our intel says Arias’ office should be on the top floor. The coordinates are on your watch. Proceed with caution, everyone.” Rebecca calls out into your earpiece. Twisting your elbow, you glimpse at your watch. It blinks with your location in green, and destination in red, two floors above you.
“Copy.” You and Jill acknowledge Rebecca, but Ada ignores, simply hiking forward with her pistol leading the way.
“She must be fun at parties.” Jill snorts, following behind her.
This is the first time Jill talks after splitting up with the boys. And even then, she only ever converses with you, and never to Ada. They have almost nothing in common between them, besides their stubborn attitude that only butts at each other’s heads. If you aren’t around, there will only be an air of dead silence between the duo.
But these two are your friends, and you like them both for different reasons.
You recall a past memory between you. “She’s not usually like this outside of missions. We went to a bar one time, and Ada got me free drinks all night. Poor suckers, she swindled them all.”
“Just the two of you?”
“No, it was an afterparty. Rebecca was there. I think you had to stay back for work that day. Why?”
Your eyes meet Jill in confusion, and they quickly dart away. Jill clears her throat to speak again. “So you and Ada are close, huh?”
“I think so,” Jill’s face hints a bit of disappointment, but she tries to force her lips to upturn into a nonchalant smile. You don’t notice this and continue talking: “But not exactly. She saved me a few times, so I’m grateful for her. But I wouldn’t call us friends.”
“And that’s all?”
You wonder where all of this is coming from. Didn’t take her for the kind who enjoys bars and loud spaces anyway. Spending time with Jill is usually just the two of you watching TV, laughing at the over-the-top reality drama from the comfort of the couch, cuddling up right next to each other like a couple of platonic best friends. Before you can speak, you feel a presence in front of you, standing in your way. You pause quickly at the last minute, almost colliding into the figure. Ada. She only looks at Jill when she’s talking.
“You two lovebirds done? Stay alert.” Ada deadpans with no intention of being friendly and warming. “Don’t hold me down.”
“Take care of your shit and I’ll take care of mine.” There’s bitterness in Jill’s voice, and Ada ignores her because your watch is beeping. The green and red dots overlap each other. You’re here.
You put your game face on. You land yourself on the other side of the wooden door to Arias’ office, while Jill and Ada have their backs against the wall closest to the door knob. Ada signals, counting down from three, and then finally kicks down the door. The three of you rush in, guns aimed forward in order to take down any security patrolling the perimeters.
“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. You lower your gun when realisation sets in that you are indeed in an empty room.
You recognise this dark wood flooring. It adorns proudly, and even more repetitively, throughout the mansion. This room is no different. The desk, cabinetry and shelves are crafted with the same sinister timber that weighs down Arias’ office. Rows of portraits from Arias’ ancestors stare down at you with hollow beady eyes. A tall window, slightly ajar, to let in the cold nocturne wind. No mould.
This room had been cared for—dusted, cleaned, and prepared. Papers spread across the table, fresh ink, even the nameplate is polished into a shimmer. Arias frequents here, either for work—or for other sorts of shady businesses.
Ada immediately gets to work, and she finds a painting with a secret hinge to the side. It opens into a safe with two rotary dials. The sample is so close now, so close to your reach.
“I’ll check for any other clues that may help us.” Jill declares, and she’s flipping through papers on the desk for any information she can send to Rebecca.
But your eyes are still fixed upon Ada with her back facing you. Not leaving her even for just a second. Ada might have saved you a few times, but the amount of times she betrayed you is far greater. A memory sticks out from a conversation in the saferoom when Leon pulls you aside:
“Be careful. Something is very wrong about this place. I don’t know what it is yet…” His words hold weight and sincerity as he speaks. “And about Ada… I don’t trust her. You shouldn’t too. Don’t make the same mistake as I did.” Then Leon loosens the grasp on your arm, and reluctantly lets go…
You refocus, keeping your eyes peeled on Ada, before noticing how beautiful her hands are. How they pinch the dial with ease and precision, almost gliding as she hears the very faint click inside the clockwork of the safe. Her nails are short, painted dearly with scarlet red polish, palms so silky that they almost glisten lightly under the moonlight. You didn’t know the hands of a mercenary can be so pretty, unlike yours, calloused and scabs healed over.
“Are you done watching me?” Ada is still listening to the safe, but she knows you’re looking.
“Huh? I wasn’t—” Your cheeks redden from being caught.
“You think I’m as dense as that rookie? I see you guys talking. Did Leon tell you to watch over me?” Oh. She must be talking about Leon’s warnings in the safe room.
“It… wasn’t about you.” You hesitate and fiddle with your thumb. You are not a great liar, not by far.
“Just tell me.”
Ada turns around to look at you now, telling of how much she knows you. And it’s definitely well enough to see through your lies like translucent paper. Your words tumble under pressure: “He’s just concerned. Told me to keep an eye out.”
Ada scoffs; she’s turning the dial a bit more aggressively this time. “Of course he did. Predictable. The rookie thinks I’m out to get him every single time.” There’s another sigh of exhaustion.
“Well, isn’t that what you did?”
“That’s besides the point. It’s his fault for getting in my way.” Ada clears her throat. “Rest assured, I’ve been compensated well for this job, so you’re safe.”
“For now. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”
“Didn’t take you for the kind to let others tell you what to do.”
You clamp your lips shut. She’s right, and you know it. Your brain racks within itself for a comeback to defend your integrity, and realising instead: Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself to Ada?
Ada is challenging you for sure. Or entertained by you. You can’t tell the difference with her teasing grin that could be either, or both. Are your eyes fooling you, or does Ada seem more... relaxed? Her demeanour is drastically different from when you were in the saferoom, or when you were speaking to Jill. If you didn't know better, you swear Ada actually enjoys your company, maybe even a little bit more than friends.
The safe beeps, signal flashes green, and the hinge loosens to an open. The two of you peek inside. There’s a gold bar. A stack of paper (letters?) bound by a delicate string. But beyond that, nothing.
You hear rustling in the background. Papers falling to the floor. You turn around to see Jill frozen.
“We got the safe open. Did you find anything?”
Jill’s eyes are far off, fixed upon a particular spot. You look towards the direction of her glance, and beyond the window, it overlooks the mansion’s luxurious home garden, overgrown with weeds and wilt. Behind that, a bench and what appears to be either a figure or the trick of a light. It’s too dark to tell.
“Jill.” Ada repeats, slightly raised eyebrows indicating suspicion. Jill returns from her far off location, and sees the two of you in front of her.
“You okay?” You ask, wanting to put your hand on her shoulder. She shrugs you off.
“I’m fine.” Jill’s fist is holding some paper, and she scrunches it to hide it in her back pocket. “Nothing useful. Just old accounts… and stuff. You know.” Ada is watching. Jill changes the topic fast.
“But look what I've found in the drawers.” Jill removes a box from inside the drawer and opens it. It contains a bunch of oddly shaped devices, attached by a belt or some sort.
“Are those what I think they are...?” You question, not quite sure what to make of it just yet.
“In every colour too.” Ada says. “Seems like a 'hobby' of Arias'.”
“Maybe Arias had been using this toy in this room.” Jill snickers, pulling one of them out by the belt, and the girth of the black shaft is thick and erected.
“Jill, stop playing with it.” Your face looks visually disturbed. “Oh my god, my pure and innocent mind...”
“Don't tell me you've never used one of these before?” Ada is grinning, as if you just asked a silly question.
“And you have?”
“Who hasn't?” Jill laughs too. Meanwhile, you are still standing, a look of confusion in your eyes. They look at you, and look between themselves, a synchronous 'oh' left their mouths at the same time. You are still confused.
“Don't worry about it. So what do you guys got there?”
You pick up the stack, and read aloud the first sheet that is addressed to someone.
Dear Sarah, The world had been too cruel to us, separating us from each other far too suddenly, far too soon. Our lives were only just beginning, and fate had to take you away from me. We should’ve had so much more time. And we will. Don’t worry, Sarah, all of this is only temporary. I took your wedding dress to the dry cleaners and safekept it for your return. I still remember how beautiful you looked in that dress walking down the aisle. Yours forever, Glenn
You bring the sheet back to read the next letter.
Dear Sarah, My research was successful. I did it, Sarah, I DID IT!! I can finally bring you home, my love. Didn’t we always said we wanted a child? You told me underneath the moonlight you want to name our daughter Renee. And now, we can finally have them. We can finally be together. Things are in order to make this happen. Me, you, and Renee, for eternity. I’m so excited I’ve painted Renee’s nursery in your favourite colour, green. So much work to do, I’ll write to you again soon, Sarah. You won’t have to wait any longer. Yours forever, Glenn
“Is this Arias’ wife? What do you mean ‘bringing her back’?” Your whole body shudders at the thought.
“She’s dead. One of the many innocents that died in the wedding.” Jill almost punches the wall. “It should’ve been him.”
“He’s trying to revive her? …And have children with the dead?”
“What kind of fucked up shit is he planning?” Jill is shocked, grossed, disgusted all at once on her face.
Meanwhile, Ada, calm and unreactive as ever, is rummaging through the safe again. “No sign of the sample—” Ada confirms, and she withdraws her hand holding a gold bar to transfer it into her gear’s pocket. “—another dead end.”
“Did you just steal something?” Jill is in disbelief.
“Mind your business.” Ada shoots back a glare at her.
“There’s something really fucked up going on in this mansion, and this is how you act? Have some sympathy for the dead, would ya?”
“It’s been dead for a while. Doesn’t matter what we do or what we say, they can’t hear it. All we can do is focus on the present.”
“Why you—” Jill stops midway, like she accidentally swallowed back her words down the wrong hole. Her head is throbbing, heart racing, body attacking her from all sides within. Her throat is closing up, and for a second, Jill can’t breathe. She falls; collapsing onto the table with a loud thump, barely supporting herself with her elbow. Jill coughs; there’s blood.
“Jill! Are you okay?” You cry out, running to her aid, your arm rounding across Jill’s shoulders. It feels cold. Dry. Like you’re touching the furless coat of a dead animal with no warmth left in them.
“I… nnh, I’m fine.” Her voice is straining, but there’s some breathing at least.
“Don’t be stubborn. The colour on your face is gone.” You dip your hand onto Jill’s forehead. The cold sensation fades, and now it’s warm to the touch again, burning like a fever. You question yourself whether the coldness before was an illusion. Bringing your arms around her, you reach to your earpiece. “I’m calling Rebecca.”
“No. Don’t.” She coughs even harder with her weight leaning against you; she’s turning frailer and frailer by the minute. “I’ll be fine. We need to s-stop Arias.”
That is when you hear a click, cold metallic surface pressing against the fabric of Jill’s back. The safety’s off.
“Ada?” Your voice escapes like a pleading squeal, a forced laugh through hopeful desperation that it’s all a prank, that Ada isn’t going to hurt and betray you, just like all the other times. “…What’s up with you?”
“Jill. Get off. Now.” Ada raises her volume to a stern demand, and this time, you know she’s definitely not joking. Jill ought to do as she says soon, or else both of you may catch the bullet with a press of Ada’s finger.
“Ada—” Your voice shrivels into a pitiful whisper. Betrayal again? After everything?
“Jill’s infected. Face it. Thought it was weird why you’re acting funny. The virus is in your body as we speak.” Ada points her gun at Jill.
“Wha—What’re you talking about?” Jill’s face turns white. She coughs once more, hard. There’s blood all over her hand and on the corner of her lips.
“Ada. We need to take her to the hospital now.”
“Does she look okay to you? I’m not going to save your ass again. So get out when I tell you to.” Ada’s finger is firm on the trigger. Determined.
Jill scoffs. “This again? So you’re working for Wesker? You’re trying to take us out one by one. It’s not gonna work.” With a weak grip, Jill grabs her pistol with her remaining energy to aim right back at Ada. Ada doesn’t shoot. She should’ve, but she can’t.
Ada’s guard is up again. “Believe what you want. If you’d like to die today, be my guest. I won’t hesitate to shoot.” She flicks her wrist, demanding you to move aside. “This is your last chance.”
“Ada, please listen! She wasn’t bit. We were together the entire time. You were there too, Ada! She can’t be infected. She can’t be—” You yell in distress, but your sentence trails off into a mumble.
“The gas. The gas has something to do with it.” Ada says.
“Won’t the two of us be sick too?” You say.
Ada’s eyes glare harshly against the two of you, but you can see her thinking, the cogwheels in her brain processing the facts, and her speculation wavers. There’s pity behind the cold blooded glint. Sympathy. Ada’s pistol lowers—
And that was the mistake that costs their lives. Jill turns, roundhouse kicking the pistol off Ada’s hand in her moment of vulnerability. The gun falls, crashing against the rug far from reach. Ada is already reacting, drawing her TMP out but Jill moves faster. Too steadfast. Too superhuman. She tackles Ada to the ground, hands steady against her neck.
Jill’s gaze is obscured by flames, something blinding and controlling from something within her veins and arteries. Despite looking directly at Ada, she can’t see, nor can she distinguish friend or foe. Her hand tightens around Ada’s windpipe, leaving her grasping for air.
You pull up your rifle in a panic frenzy, unloading your round onto Jill. But she does not flinch, does not even look your way. There’s a dent in her skin where your shots land, but there’s no blood. “Goddamit, what the fuck, Jill! What is wrong with you?”
But Jill can’t hear you. Only the crackle of flame and roar of wildfire burning and reverberating through her head. Echoing twice and thrice over. Ada is grunting soundless moans, still attempting at escape with how she continues to fumble for the TMP on her waist belt. Then, Jill steps on Ada’s hand with sheer force and unnatural strength, crushing the smooth palm with the sole of her feet, twisting it until all the delicate bones become unrecoverable. And all hope was lost again.
Jill sinks her teeth into Ada’s neck, not with much mercy either. There is a sound of flesh torn, a blood crying scream to taint the air. The blood velvet rug paints a deeper red and Jill releases. Ada flops to the floor, paralysed, but not deadly enough for a fatality. Her beautiful skin, once full of vigour and charm, stained red with her own blood, the veins around turning deeper purple thriving like tree roots across the earth.
You look at Jill—and she’s smiling. It’s not the slight curve of her lips you’re used to when you tell her that her haircut is nice. Or the reluctant embarrassed grin she has when you thank her for standing up for you. This was something else.
This was something from hell.
She’s no longer the Jill you know. ‘Jill’ turns around to meet you in the eye. You back away, rifle aiming forwards despite knowing it’s all fruitless. Your hands shudder from within, none of your shots will hit even if you try. But you had no choice. You have to try even if it’s fruitless. Then you aim at Jill directly on the head. It’s harder than it looks, killing your best friend, even if they are a zombie.
It misses and lands on her shoulder instead. There’s a notable grimace on Jill’s face as she flies to catch the bullet from within her shoulder. She flicks the bullet away and her grin spreads widely, and she chuckles a sinister giggle. “That hurts, you know…”
“Jill?” These BOWs aren’t supposed to speak. They should be monsters. This is your first time meeting one of these too, and you did not expect them to be one of your closest friends. You should be careful. If they can speak, do they have the intelligence to manipulate you too?
“What’s wrong, kitty?”
“Fuck you.” You grit your teeth. “I’m not turning into one of you.”
She merely laughs. “Admit it. You think this is hot.”
“Fuck off.” You have Jill’s eyes locked, other hand inching closer and closer to your back pocket, reaching for the radio. But it was no use. A hand—bloodied and broken—grabs you by your wrist, twisting it behind you forcefully. You wince. Ada is right behind you, her eyes looking into yours with the same blank stare Jill has. She’s turned. And so quick too?
“Our darling, can’t seem to stay put? I think it needs punishment.” Ada’s breath is blowing against your neck. You shiver.
“Oh… like what kind?” Jill’s eyebrows are raised and intrigued.
Jill answers the question herself by unsheathing her pocket knife. You swallow hard as she takes each purposeful step towards you, savouring in your fear. Your wrists struggle against Ada’s grip, which she responds by tightening it further that your bones are almost breaking from her touch.
“It’ll hurt more if you resist.” Jill drawls out her words, licking the surface of the knife. She brings her knife forward, laying the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, drawing a little blood at first, then a bit more droplets gather onto the knife. She slurps on it, licking the crimson nectar clean off her knife. “Just relax, kitty. It’s us. Jill and Ada. Your teammates.”
“We won’t hurt you, darling. You can trust us.”
For a moment, through the hazy blink of a spell, you see your friends. Ada, mysterious yet always saving you during trouble. Jill, indifferent yet is always the first to defend you. They’re absolutely right. These are your friends. They mean so much to you, and you’ve just realised that now. You’ll do anything for them.
You let your body relax, your eyes stare into Jill, then Ada, then back at Jill again. She caresses your cheeks in her palm, bringing your face closer to hers with lips that only want to close the distance, and you close your-
Wait! No. Stop this! This isn’t right!
-eyes, before your lips crash together in a series of tingles. Jill deepens the kiss, her tongue prying between the seams of your lips, meeting your own tongue in the middle. You still taste a bit of blood, but that doesn’t deter you from returning the kiss. Jill licks your lips once more before finally parting with a heaved gasp. You slowly open your eyes, before another pair of familiar lips comes colliding back on yours and you’re nudged to close them again. This is Ada’s lips, rounder, thicker, with an unexpected forwardness. She nibbles on your lips, demanding, making room between the gaps of your lips, and kiss you just as passionately as Jill did.
Between kisses, a button pops off. Then another. You help each other out of your fabrics. Earpieces removed, abandoned by the floor. Jill strips off Ada’s dress and bra, and you help Jill out of her skinny jeans. A paper scrunches up from her back pocket. It’s been torn by hand, scribbled a note on lined paper where the words are either smudged or peeled off. Only one word is still faintly visible.
[ WATER ]
What could it mean?
You spend no time to ponder with Jill pulling you back into the present. Your naked torsos flush against each other as the duo fight for another taste of your lips. They catch your breath, one after another, with no intention of letting you out of their sight. Jill brings her hand around you, her fingers are already sending-
I need to get out of here! I need to warn-
-a violent fizz through your body, and Ada helps you fall to your legs onto the velvet rug underneath you. All the whilst your lips are trapped in Jill’s, and so is your body.
“That’s it… Be our good little darling.” Ada slips right behind you, letting your relaxed body lean against her, then running a hand up your torso with the friction of her latex gloves, before settling against your neck in a firm grip.
“We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Jill whispers into your ear, and you can’t hear any malicious intent. Jill and Ada aren’t hurting you, some part of you is very sure about this.
Then you hear something. A faint sound in your mind, a warning, a scream from far away. It’s telling you to run, run so far and fast before it’s too late. “Nnh… I…” It rings in your ear like a constant drum, forcing you for a response. But why? You feel so good right now…
“Stay with us, darling.” Ada coos, moving downwards to kiss along the strip of your neck. She’s gentle, enchanting you in her lovingness. The voice grows fainter, like a distant chatter that fades into the background.
And their hands are all over you, exploring every curve your skin has to offer. The crook of your neck, the gentle folds between your belly, thighs filling out into their palms, plushness against plushness. With how both of their breasts lay against you, it reminds you of a marshmallow cloud, and you’re drifting away into it. Away from the mortal world where only the three of you remain.
Ada runs her hands down your body, her latex glove palming your cunt now, circling it fully and firmly. You feel everything move, your hips rutting to find more friction against your clit. And she retracts her hand, pressing down against your clit as if you hears your demands, holding you and your emotions hostage, before repeating all the motions again.
“Shh… We’ll take care of you, kitty.” Someone says this, you don’t know who. You are much too focused on the pleasure throbbing in your body to notice. Ada moves her head downwards to watch your cunt more closely, pleasant to see you already drenching, soon to succumb to the inflictions of her loving touches.
“Goodness, so wet for me, darling.” Ada rewards herself with a finger down the stripe of your cunt, scooping your juices with the latex and licking her finger clean. Ada is taking her time with you, pecking gentle kisses along the seam. A few times you feel the firm pad of her tongue on you, but she retracts it before you can truly react to it.
Jill is still kissing you; her hands are groping her own breasts to satisfy herself, while you lay limp under the command of the two. You moan back into the kiss, clearly aroused by Ada toying with your body underneath, and she grows increasingly jealous: “Having all the fun without me?” She abruptly parts your lips, and gently lowers your back onto the floor.
“Come on, kitty. Help me come too.” Jill pecks one final kiss on you, which you, too engrossed in the knot in your chest to struggle to even pucker your lips. She rounds her legs over your face, and your face is shaded with the shape of Jill’s cunt. Her arousal glistens in the darkness, seemingly twitch, maybe a bit vulnerable with how your eyes are fixed upon her aching parts.
“Put that tongue to good use, kitty.” Jill drops herself onto your face, fucking herself onto your nose. A moan escapes her lips, and yours too, your grunt muffled underneath the pressure, but she can still feel the vibrations through her cunt. She ruts against you, a signal for ‘more’, and you obey. You stick your tongue in, swirling and springing your tongue to feel Jill’s walls against the flat surface of your tongue.
Jill lifts herself temporarily, just enough for you to breathe and release the groaning mess that is trapped in the back of your throat. She slams herself back down onto you again. Your breath quickens, back arches in; you’re close. So fucking close. Ada isn’t stopping now, her lips are flushed against your cunt, extending her entire tongue inside of you to tonguefuck you until your heavy breathing is inside of Jill’s cunt.
“I.. nnh…fuck…” You cry, a tear gathering in your eye.
“Don’t be shy, kitty. Just let it all out.” Jill looks down at you, grinning, taunting. She drives her cunt deeper onto your face. And with her encouragement, you do. The sensation wells inside of you, stimulated on both end bringing your orgasm to escalate in speeds unimaginable. Your juices start to flow, without warning—you couldn’t control it even if you tried—and all your fluids spills directly onto Ada’s face, catching into her eyes.
“That’s it. Well done, kitty.” Jill praises, smoothing a hand over your hair.
Ada doesn’t wince from your juices in her eye, she doesn’t even feel the pain. Her irises are shifting red from her kind hazel brown. Her skin, paling, wherever she was applying pressure at you, those parts of her turns distinctly blue. And that’s when reality hits you: you don’t know them. But there’s no stopping now. It’s too late. At least you can make your death memorable—enjoyable—by getting fucked inside out.
Jill is feeling it too, her hips shaking, your tongue going into overtime eating her out, until she finally releases. She tries to lift herself off, but it was too late when Jill begins to squirt, her one finger guiding herself on her clit, drenching your face and some of your hair with her fluids. You wipe your face off with your hands, huffing and puffing. Whatever you two had, it was intense. Far more intense than any relationship you had with any other sex.
Ada lands right next to you on the rug. She’s reaching down to circle on her own clit and thrusting her fingers inside of her dripping mess at the same time. God, Ada looks so hot touching herself.
“Please. Ada. I want to taste you too.” You nudge Ada’s fingers out of herself, giving them a lick to clean those pretty, battered fingers off. Even damaged, her manicure is still perfect, and the skin still feels soft to the touch. You roll on top of Ada, exchanging places with Ada’s fingers to bottom her out.
Ada’s cunt is so smooth, cleaned and trimmed, just as put together as the rest of herself. Her hole is wide open, as if taunting you with how much she can take at one time. You hook her legs over your shoulder now, pressing them down closer to her body and reaching over to her swollen nipple to pull against it. When your fingers enter her, it’s like dipping your finger into melted butter. With one finger, it was loose. So you add one more finger, then another, until all four of your fingers are deep in her cunt.
“God, Ada.” You swallow back a heavy drool. “You’re all stretched out.”
“I have higher pain tolerance like this. That’s the best part about being a zombie.”
“Does that mean I can…” You thought four fingers was Ada’s limit, but after wiggling your hand around, you manage to slip the fifth finger inside. Ada lets out a delighted whine, swallowing your entire fist with a quick rut of her hips.
My god, Ada looks so beautiful like this. With how big she’s taking in, you swear that she’s more used to this than she’s letting on. But you don’t get to ponder long, because Jill is right behind you. She’s watching over you, grabbing your cheeks from behind and something is nudging between your thighs.
“I want to try something on you.” There is a belt around her, and a strap bouncing high and proud into the air. “Stick up your butt for me, kitty.”
The idea of getting fucked by Jill excites you very much. You perk them up, despite your eagerness, you don’t want to lose momentum with Ada in front of you, still squirming under your control. You expect your cunt to meet with Jill’s silicone tip, but instead she puts some kind of device inside of you. It vibrates in the lowest setting, only a tingle of sensation in your already aching and throbbing pussy.
“J-Jill?” You let out a low grunt, unsatisfied. The device is so small, you still feel empty even as it vibrates within you.
“Don’t worry, kitty. I’m just gonna write some thing on your body. It won’t hurt, I promise.” She picks up a knife, previously abandoned in the corner. She runs the sharp end of the knife along your ass cheeks, and you wince as Jill drags the knife down until it carves off a letter. ‘J’ on your left cheek, ‘A’ on your right cheek.
“Kitty looks amazing with our initials on it.” Blood is trailing along your butt. Jill lied. It hurts a lot. But the combination of pain on your skin and pleasure of the vibrator takes you to your wits end. Jill makes up for it by consoling the cuts, planting kisses and licking the blood off your cheeks. Then she grasps harshly onto the plush meat, and the pain is back again.
“Kitty…” She coos, fingering out some of your stickiness to lubricate the silicone. It lines up against you, ready for entry. You take in a deep breath, and Jill shoves all of her length in one go. Your body flinches, tongue stopping for a moment to recollect your composure as your internal walls fight to wrap both the vibrator and Jill’s strap at the same time, filling you up so fully.
“That’s it, kitty. Take in both me and the vibrator. Feel so good right now… So good for us.”
But she’s not stopping. Not intending to stop until you come over and over again, until you stain the rug with every bit of your juices. Moans ripple through the room. Each thrust heavy and welcoming to your pussy as you stretch wide to accommodate to this newfound size. You chase your euphoria, as it crash at you wave after wave of limitless pleasure. Jill tips you further into overstimulation, fucking the fluids of your orgasm back inside of you.
But you can’t speak, despite the desire to release your choked out breath, you are determined to make Ada come too. She’s close. You press her legs further down to flex her into a pretzel, her thighs touch her head, and your fist finds its easier to reach her cervix, abusing at her favourite spot over and over again until she’s bound to release her fluids onto your hand.
“You’re mine now…” Jill and Ada speaks almost simultaneously.
And the rest of the night was a blur. You aren’t sure how many times you came tonight, you only feel the aftermath of it. The inside of your walls are sore, penetrated repeatedly by tongue and silicone, and you find your consciousness fading… and fading… until you are gone completely.
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A buzz. It rings in your ear like a fly in your sleep. Is this your alarm? No… Did you not leave for Arias’ mansion? How long ago was that? Why are you asleep? And where’s Jill and Ada?
You are alone. The portraits watching your naked body as you lie—criticising you? You hear the windows clacking against the hinges, night air whining inside and all over your bareness. But you don’t feel cold. Your body hasn’t felt anything in a while. Joints weakened everywhere and your lips feel like something dried over.
You hear the buzz again. This time much closer. There’s static. It’s saying something.
“Ji- Ad-”
You move your limbs, cumbersome from the soreness of your muscles, to reach to the sound underneath your clothes. An earpiece. You fumble it on.
“Jill! Ada! Are you guys there? Come on, why won’t this damn thing work?”
It’s Rebecca. You know this girl. From somewhere. It’s getting harder to think.
“Reb—” You try to talk, but it escapes like the low grumble of a zombie. You don’t have much time left.
“Finally! Thank god it’s you! Are you guys safe?”
“Water... It’s the water… The water’s infected…” You muster whatever bit of strength left to talk.
“Hello?? Shit. I can’t hear you… What did you say about the water?”
Your eyes feel heavy. It sinks without intention. All that remains is a fragile pulse at the hearth of your body. Not enough for you to move or think. Darkness envelops you, and there is silence once again in Arias’ office.
Then, a man steps into the room.
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thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. kissing @scar-crossedlvrs and @obsolescent for beta reading this!!!! tags: @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted @obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs @slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired @redvleanli @vinsiliors @whoisgami @gaylorvader @wxwieeee @eddsthemunson © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.
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