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bonnibuckets · 3 months ago

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GRRRAAAHHHHHH I LOVED THIS

A Broken Man Can Love Again

Minors DNI! 18+ only

Summary: Leon is tasked with training a new agent. He vows to protect her, but doesn't expect to fall for her.

Tags/Warnings: Fem reader, no use of Y/N, suicidal thoughts, violence, protective Leon, smut, trauma dumping lol.

Note: I've been super depressed lately so this fic has been kinda therapeutic to write. Protective Leon makes my heart flutter. Also this is my first time writing smut! Hope you like it <3

Leon Scott Kennedy worked best alone. It was easier that way, safer. He found it was often easier to work if he didn’t have some soft-hearted inexperienced rookie trailing along after him. He couldn’t stand to get attached to them, only for them to perish. He had seen far too many good men and women die at the hands of evil. The weight of every death hung heavy on him, a reminder of his failures to do what he had long ago promised to do. Save everyone. If he can’t even save his goddamn team, how is he expected to save the world?

Seven years since Racoon City, seven years since his autonomy was stripped away. He supposed it was for the best, although Leon couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who had to choose what to do with their lives. Claire was never given the choice between death or service, no, she got to run off and play humanitarian. He gritted his teeth, knowing he was being unfair. Of course, if Claire had known leaving him and Sherry would have resulted in them being kidnapped she would have helped. He tried not to hold it against her. He tried to remind himself that at the very least, he was still helping the world, saving it from those who would seek to destroy it. But as he walked down the halls of whatever government agency he was aiding that day, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hatred for those who had been given a choice to be there.

Most people he came into contact with at work didn’t even believe in B.O.W’s. And why should they? The government wiped the slate clean every time, burying the events so that the world wouldn’t panic. Very few government agents knew the horrors of the bio-weapons, and even fewer were properly trained on how to deal with them. The survival rate for agents like himself was low, to say the least. Hell, Leon felt like he had seen most of them die himself. Ripped apart, crushed like a bug, necks bitten and torn. He had become so desensitized to gore and violence over the years that it hardly even phased him anymore. Leon worked best alone, so his annoyance when it was announced he would be training a new rookie was astronomical.

“Hunnigan, you have to be joking right? I’m the last guy they want training someone,” he argued, pacing the office of perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend in the government.

Ingrid Hunnigan, ever the level-headed individual, merely shrugged. “They thought your experience with B.O.Ws, along with the recent success of your Spain mission, made you the best candidate to train her.” Hannigan paused from clacking at her keyboard.

“If things go well, they will most likely make her your new partner.” She said it so casually as if this wasn’t a tremendous update.

Their relationship was one built off of duty. Ever since his mission in Spain last year, he had taken a liking to the no-nonsense woman. She let him complain and whine about his job; about his loneliness. And while she couldn’t do anything to help him, she was able to provide him with a small amount of validation and comfort. The field support agent was perhaps the only person aside from his higher-ups who knew of his forced involvement in the agencies.

“If she lasts that long,” Leon grumbled under his breath. Hannigan cast him a sour look but Leon shrugged it off, knowing he didn’t get a say in the situation- he never did. Choice wasn’t something in his job description, if he had a choice he wouldn’t be here at all. Or would he? For the past seven years, he had been trained to be an agent, trained to be the perfect weapon against eldritch abominations created by capitalistic psychopaths, and before that he had spent years at the police academy, training to serve. All his adult life he had been taught to serve and obey, and he was pretty damn good at it too. An obedient little soldier, ready to die for his masters. If Leon had a choice would he still be here? He couldn’t fathom the possibility of a normal life anymore, not with the knowledge that the world was so corrupted and ugly, ready to implode at any moment. Leon never had the option to choose this career, why anyone would be beyond him?

Mumbling a goodbye, he left his friend before returning to his own office. He slumped down in the chair, booting up his computer. Might as well figure out who his partner is anyway. Leon knew it was a bad idea to get attached, but curiosity killed the cat. Pulling up her file, he was surprised to see how young she was, not even past her early twenties yet. Most recruits tended to be older, and more experienced in military combat and whatnot. An unease washed over him as he read her file closely, a pang of anger sparking in his chest. The girl was in a similar boat as him. Wrong place, wrong time. Welcome to the club, kid. She had been present during an isolated virus outbreak at a University football game and had the unfortunate accolade of being one of the few survivors. Anyone with the capability to stand up to an infected tended to capture the attention of the government. Leon gritted his teeth, trying to calm the rage that brewed inside him. Had they blackmailed her into agreeing to join? Threatening her family, her own life, if she didn’t comply? He hadn’t even met her yet and he was already miserating over her.

Leon looked closer at her photo, taking in the saddened but hopeful spark in her eyes. Was she trying to see the bright side of the situation? Did she think she would get to be a hero? Leon let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he tried not to dwell on the potential of losing another person, another partner, another friend; the heart can only handle so much. “I’ll try and keep you safe” he murmured to himself, glancing back up at the photo on his screen. This time it would be different. It had to be.

_______

It was a sunny day when he met his new partner. Leon stood in the training room, rays of light beaming through the windows as a suit-clad man escorted the young woman in, no doubt her handler. Leon sucked in a breath, remaining stoic as they approached, trying to calm his racing nerves. Despite what he might tell others, Leon wasn’t exactly well-versed in talking to women. He used to consider himself a smooth talker in college, but ever since he left the academy, his exposure to flirting opportunities had been limited, to say the least. The closest he had gotten to flirting was with Ada last year in Spain. Can it be called flirting when you have a knife to their throat? However, one night in seven years was still a losing streak in his eyes.

The nameless suit briefly introduced the woman, whom upon hearing her name called, hesitantly reached out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Kennedy,” she greeted awkwardly.

Leon huffed a chuckle, an eyebrow quivering in amusement as he slowly reached for her hand. “Please, just call me Leon,” he insisted, shaking her hand. It was soft, not yet hardened by callouses, and her grip was weak. Hands that had not seen battle. They shouldn’t see battle at all. She shouldn’t be here to begin with.

As the agent departed, Leon took in the sight of his new trainee. He had been told she had been put through basic military training, but it would be up to him to prepare her for the unpredictability of bio-weapons. Without hesitation, he unsheathed his knife, slashing it toward her and she yelped in surprise, arching backward to avoid the blade.

“What the hell?!” she protested, dodging yet another attack from him. Her movements were clumsy, but fast- he could work with that.

“You think a bio-weapon is gonna give you a heads up when it’s about to kill you?” He retorted, his knife nicking her cheek. “You think a corpse is gonna ask permission to bite you? That a mutated beast is gonna wait for your turn?” The girl grits her teeth, dodging and weaving his slashes. “You have to be ready for anything because these things will not hesitate to kill you.” His blade came into contact with her arm as he knocked her down and she fell with a grunt, glaring up at him. Leon bit back his tongue, ignoring the way her frustrated look pained him. It was for her good, he couldn’t let her training be easy, not if she expected to live through the next few years. As much as Krauser was a psychotic sadist, Leon couldn’t help but admit that his brutal training methods had been useful. He reached out his hand, the young woman hesitating before taking it.

“ That’s one hell of a hello,” she grumbled, and a smirk formed on Leon’s mouth. He pulled her up to her feet, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” he chuckled softly. “Now, let’s go get you bandaged up.”

____________

The seasons start to change and Leon starts to dread going to work less. Despite the colder nip in the air, he feels warm, and eager at the prospect of seeing his rookie. She has acclimated well to her new role, and while Leon wishes he could punch the son of a bitch who forced her to enlist, he can’t help but feel a spark of gratitude that she was here.

The rookie isn’t overtly chatty, and Leon can tell she still doesn’t fully trust him. He can see it in her eyes, like a deer eyeing a wolf. She’s polite and respectful, dutifully calling him honorifics and obeying commands, but Leon isn’t fooled.

There is snow in the air as he makes her run through an obstacle course. After all, not every mission she’s sent on is going to have pristine weather. She’s miserable, he can tell even from afar. She trudges through the snow, hauling herself over wooden walls, leaping over logs, and swinging from a rope. By the time she practically collapses over the finish line, her ears and nose are tinged red from the cold, and he can see her breath in the cold winter air.

“You took too long,” he said plainly, checking his stopwatch. “You took nearly five minutes, you can’t pass unless you do it in under two.”

The girl is panting, trying to regain her breath. She glances at Leon, a look of annoyance plastered clear on her face. “Fuck off” she wheezes, and a bead of sweat rolls down her forehead.

Leon can’t help but laugh at her crass words. He remembers how difficult it is, trudging through the snow or mud through the finish line. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done this over the years, how many times Krauser pushed him until he was at wit's end. Leon doesn’t want to be a cruel footnote in the history of her life. He doesn’t want her to look back on this chapter of her life with disdain as she remembers him. Leon isn’t sure of what he wants, or what he needs to give up to admit what he suspects deep down. He shakes his head, trying to push any conflicting feelings down deep inside him, burying this fleeting hesitation along with the rest of his hopes, dreams, and suppressed emotions. Leon isn’t here to get sentimental, he’s here to make sure this rookie doesn’t get murdered on her first mission.

“One more time” he orders, looking away from her and back over to the snow-covered course. “After that, you can take a break,” Leon adds, almost hesitantly. He shouldn’t be soft with her, but as her face lights up at the prospect of being able to rest, he can’t help but feel his heart flutter with a palpitation of happiness. He watches as she takes off once more, a newfound sense of energy overtaking her as she maneuvers the course. Leon can’t help but feel mesmerized as he watches her in a trance-like state, a surge of pride washing over him as she sprints over the last obstacle, gasping for breath as she crosses the finish line.

“One minute and forty-six seconds,” he said, stopping the timer as she smiled triumphantly.

“Nice to know your reward motivated, perhaps from here on out I’ll carry a little bag of treats for you,” he snarks, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips as she rolls her eyes at him.

“Woof” she responds dryly, “Now I believe I was promised a break?”

Leon nods, smiling to himself as he leads her towards the concrete building. “Let’s go rookie, I’m pretty sure the dining hall made hot chocolate,” he says.

“Is it good?” she asks, trailing after him.

“Not at all,” he admits. She laughs, throwing her head back as she does so. Leon can’t help but stop in his tracks, admiring her beauty as the snow falls around them.

__________________

It’s a quiet night, far too quiet for Leon’s liking. It’s the kind of silence that puts him on edge, reminiscent of a calm before the storm. He knows deep down he’s safe in this military facility, that there is no monster lurking in the dark shadows of his room, but he can’t bring himself to fully believe it. He tosses and turns in a light slumber, waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing and mouth agape. Nights like these aren’t uncommon; he's used to waking up in a panic. Not even in sleep can he escape the ghosts of his past, the terror that has plagued him for years. The line between nightmare and reality doesn’t exist for him, and he dreads the prospect of sleeping again. He pushes himself out of bed, his body aching from the thin mattress as he throws on a random t-shirt. He ran out of his hidden liquor supply a few weeks ago, but perhaps the kitchen has something that could calm his nerves. Leon feels weak admitting that alcohol is one of the few things that allows him to temporarily forget his trauma. He’s a man on a mission as he slinks through the halls of the base, careful to be quiet. He’d hate to have to explain to a commanding officer why he was out at this time. Sorry about that General, I was just looking for some spare booze cause I had a nightmare! That’d go over well. The kitchen is unlocked and seemingly abandoned as he peeks his head in, making a beeline to the cupboards. Lady Luck is on his side as he finds a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Bingo. The sound of sniffling startles him, shooting his head up to see the rookie curled up by a window, moonlight pouring down over her as she meets his gaze.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Leon asked, trying to keep a fragment of authority in his voice. It comes out cracking, his voice still husky from sleep and raw with emotions.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “You?”

“Tried to sleep, didn’t go over well,” he mumbled, grabbing two glasses. “Care for a glass?” he asks, already pouring one for her. He knows the answer.

“Please” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. Leon knows this look all too well. He pours them both a hefty shot, placing a glass in front of her as he takes the opposing seat to her. The rookie grabs the glass, swirling its contents around as she drinks deeply.

“I can tell you want to say something, might as well get it off your chest,” he offers, drinking from his cup. When he was in the academy Leon used to hate straight liquor. It burned his throat and made his eyes water, stinging on the way down. Now, Leon enjoyed the burn, it reminded him he could still feel. He didn’t even flinch any more as he drank it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” the rookie sighs. Leon can see that her eyes are glassy and bloodshot, with heavy bags under her eyes.

“I might be the only one who does,” he countered.

The rookie doesn’t say anything at first, just looking at him with a haunted expression. “I had to shoot my friend,” she said, turning her gaze to the window. The moonlight shines down on her, casting her in an ethereal glow. “One of those infected bit her, tore a chunk right out of her arm. She swore up and down that she was fine, but after a little bit she had to sit down,” she paused, pursing her lips as she got lost in the memory. “I was holding her hand when she died, was with her to the end. But then she came back, thought maybe I was going crazy, that maybe God was looking out for me. Then she looked at me with those pale dead eyes and lunged at me. Had to put a bullet in her head.” The girl tensed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“You did the right thing,” Leon assured her. The rookie doesn’t look very convinced, just shaking her head. “I had to shoot my boss,” he murmured in exchange. “First day on the force back in ‘98, I was wandering the halls of the Racoon City police department when I found him. Never even got a proper chance to meet him, everything had gone to shit by the time I had arrived,” he paused to chuckle dryly. “His name was Marvin, only knew him for a few hours, but he died saving me. I wouldn’t be here without him.” Leon paused, feeling a lump in his throat. He quickly took a sip of his whiskey, not wanting to cry in front of her. “He turned too and came back as one of those creatures. Had to shoot him, right in the head,” he sighed, feeling his eyes dampen with tears.

“Sometimes I think about all the ways I could have helped him, how maybe if I had just done something differently he would still be alive. God, maybe if I had gotten there sooner I could have saved more people..” he trailed off, realizing he was rambling.

He clears his throat as he notices she is staring at him, a pitiful look on his face. No, it wasn't pity. Leon was far too familiar with pity, he faces it damn near every day. He can hear their hushed whispers in the office as they huddle around the water cooler, casting glances at him as he passes by. His story is infamous in the agencies he visits. Leon isn’t some fabled hero or even a person. He’s a tragedy that people love to revisit. He can’t let the past die, not when it’s become so woven into his sense of self. The girl doesn’t regard him in pity, but rather a look of mutual sorrow and misery. She doesn’t try to dab at her tears as they begin to fall more freely.

“It was my fault my friend died,” she said, her voice thick with choked-back sobs. “I was the one who had dragged her to that game, where they released the virus,” she sniffles. “It was chaos, the stampede to leave the arena must have been worse than the infected. All you could hear was screaming, an endless roar of it. All I could focus on was her hand, gripping it to make sure she didn’t get lost in the sea of people. We were both so hopped up on adrenaline we didn’t even notice she had gotten bit,” she had to pause to take a deep breath, and regain her composure.

“Swat team had come, every police officer in the county too,” she shakes her head as if trying to get rid of the memory. “Not that it made much of a difference, pretty sure most of them perished in the end. I grabbed a gun off of a fallen cop, and the two of us managed to get away from the crowd.” Her face scrunches up as she recounts the night. “If I hadn’t made her go, she’d maybe still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault she died,” Leon said softly, hesitating before reaching his hand out to grasp hers. “We can’t ponder on the what-ifs, at least that’s what I read in one of those psychology magazines.” This makes her chuckle, her lips curling into a small smile as their eyes meet. It’s a strange way to bond, trauma dumping in the middle of the night, but it feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, making it a little easier to breathe. Moonlight drapes over them and Leon wishes he could freeze time.

______

Gunshots cut through the silence as Leon observes the rookie shoot. Her brow is furrowed with determination, a scowl on her lips as attempts to shoot the targets in the head. Body shots at best might stun an infected, and probably won’t do jackshit against a larger mutated beast. Headshots guarantee damage to some extent at least. Her posture is perfect—confident, determined—but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes, something that catches his attention. Anger, maybe? Or frustration? The gunshot rings out again. Another headshot. The cluster of bullets digs deep into the skull of her target, her scowl morphing into a satisfied smirk at the small victory.

“Not bad,” Leon said, a strange sense of pride welling in his chest. “You know your way around a gun.” She pauses, lowering the weapon as she turns to look at him. Her expression shifts into something he can’t quite place.

“Thanks, the only thing my dad ever taught me,” she said, huffing a dry laugh. “Hated it at the moment, but I suppose I’m thankful now.” Her words are flippant although her body has tensed up.

“Didn’t get along so well I take it?” Leon questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall. He can feel a familiar pang in his chest, the tug of commissary.

“That would be an understatement,” she rolls her eyes, Leon watches her carefully as she clicks the safety on and places the pistol on the table, her fingers lingering on the cool metal for just a fraction of a second too long.

“He was better than some fathers... but looks like I got served a helping of daddy issues anyway. He died a few years back, sometimes I’m almost thankful he passed before..” she trails off, gesturing to the room. Her words hang in the air between them, far more intimate than she probably intended. Leon stays silent for a moment longer than usual, not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because he’s unsure if he should say anything. There's a softness in her voice he didn’t expect. He struggles to remember his father, his family was taken from him when he was little. Sometimes if he tries hard enough he can see flashes of his face and feel the warmth of his embrace. But that’s all they are. Flashes of his past.

“I get it. Doesn’t always go the way we want, does it?” Her gaze flickers over to him, catching his eyes for just a moment, and that’s when Leon feels the change in the air. The weight of the conversation lingers, and the quiet moments stretch longer between them than either of them is comfortable with.

“It never does,” she says at last, sighing as she combed her fingers through her hair. “What about you? You close with your old man?”

“Old man died along with the rest of my family when I was a kid,” Leon says with a shake of his head. He pauses, searching through the distant memories as he tries to recall what his father was like. “I don’t have any bad memories of him, but don’t have many good ones either. He’s more of a feeling that haunts me.” The rookie just looks at him with an unreadable expression, as if she’s scanning his face.

“I guess we’re both haunted,” she says at last, breaking the silence between them. Leon can’t help but feel his lips tug into a smile. Vulnerability is not something that comes easily to him these days. It’s a weakness, something that can be used against him. Open yourself up too much and people are bound to steal bits and pieces from you. However, around the rookie, Leon can’t help but feel his walls weakening, baring his scars to her. He knows he should feel terrified to let anyone see the broken pieces of him, but all he can feel is relief that someone can see the real him.

_________

Leon can feel his heart in his throat as he sits down in Hunnigan’s office. It’s like a lump he can’t swallow, his esophagus tightening as if he’s about to choke. He knows why he was called here and it’s a moment he has been dreading since the rookie was assigned to him. He watches silently as his friend and colleague flips through the reports that he has provided on her, updates on her training and progress. The decision to send her into the field. To risk her life, to trust her on missions that could end in bloodshed or worse. He watches, almost disassociated, as Hunnigan flips through the reports on her progress.

“Everything looks good. Excellent, even,” she says, her voice smooth, confident. She adjusts her glasses, casting a rare smile in his direction. “You must feel proud.”

He just shrugs, unable to calm the nervousness swelling in his stomach. “I’m ecstatic,” he grumbles gruffly. He knows he’s being rude, she’s congratulating him on doing his job. He trained her and turned her from a survivor to an agent deemed worthy of missions. But Leon hates the idea of her out there in the field, risking her life. Too many what-ifs float through his mind, the unpredictability of their line of work fueling doomsday scenarios in his head.

Hunnigan doesn’t miss the bite in his tone. She glances up, her brow furrowing in mild concern, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she returns her focus to the papers in front of her, her fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

“I’m sure she’s ready,” he mutters under his breath, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to himself. Leon’s hands twitch, itching to grab something—anything—to release the frustration building inside him. He can feel his stomach twisting into knots, and the air feels too thick to breathe.

“Leon, you did everything you could,” she says, her tone more measured now. “You trained her. You gave her the tools. Now, it’s up to her.”

Leon huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His jaw clenches. “Yeah? And what happens when it’s not enough? When the situation’s too much for her? You know how unpredictable this job is. I know how unpredictable this job is.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing in front of her desk, every step fueled by the tight knot of anger and fear in his gut. His voice rises, rough with emotion. “ I didn’t sign up to watch her get torn apart, to watch everyone I fucking care about die!” hd snaps. “I did it…to protect people, to save lives. How many lives have been lost because of me? Because of my failures?” His voice trails off, the anger morphing into bitter sorrow. Finally, he grits his teeth and mutters, “I’m not letting her get killed out there.”

Hannigan smiles faintly, but it’s not one of triumph. More like understanding. “Then trust her, Leon. She’s ready. And she’ll prove it to you.”

He opens his mouth, ready to argue again, but something in her expression stops him. With a sharp exhale, he takes a seat again, tension still coiled in every muscle. It will be different this time.

________

It’s a quiet night, one of those rare peaceful moments that Leon always savors. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, a recognition of the hard work and training that had earned her a spot among the rest of them. She had passed, she was ready for missions, ready for the chaos and carnage that came with this job. And yet, all Leon could think about was the heavy weight of what that meant: ready to die. He takes another gulp of whiskey, the burn settling somewhere in his chest. He had taken her to a nearby bar, and it by no means was an elegant establishment. The decor was dated and dusty with the patrons even more so. Leon couldn’t help but find it charming, however.

She’s sitting across from him, smiling, talking about the future, trying to hide her quelling nerves. The dim lights of the bar cast shadows over her face, her body swaying slightly as she tapped her finger along to the beat of the old jazz music that permeated from the dusty jukebox in the corner. She sips at her beer, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes as she notices him staring at her.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious as her hand rises to dab at her lips.

He shakes his head, his lips tugging into an easy smile. “Do you want to dance?” he asks suddenly, his voice low and steady, almost like he wasn’t giving himself the chance to second-guess it. Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise. He hadn’t been one to make impulsive moves, especially with her. Still, there’s something in the way she holds her gaze that makes his stomach flutter. A chuckle escapes her, and she leans back slightly in her chair, putting on a dramatic sigh.

“Smooth,” she teases, but she doesn’t hesitate. She slides her palm into his, letting him pull her up with a small, amused shake of her head. “But I guess I’ll accept.”

“I’m hurt,” Leon says, gasping in mock offense as he pulls her gently toward the dance floor.

“And here I thought we had something special!” He spins her around as he pulls her close to him, hands resting on her waist as they sway to the beat. A soft laugh bubbles out of her, warm and light, before she looks up at him, the playfulness in her eyes softening for just a moment.

“We do,” she says quietly, her voice taking on an almost shy edge. “I don’t think I’ve been able to properly thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

The words hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Leon pauses, his heart skipping a beat. “Don’t mention it,” he says with a smile. His hand tightens slightly around hers, but he doesn’t let go. “You’re a damn good agent. You’ve earned everything.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes are focused on his face now, as if in a trance. His breath catches in his chest, and for a moment, the music around them seems to fade into a dull hum. It’s just the two of them now, dancing slowly, the rhythm of their steps matching the thudding pulse in his own heart.

Her hands slide up his arms, fingers brushing the edges of his shoulders as she pulls him into an embrace, He can feel the warmth of her body, the soft thumping of her heart against him. Leon’s own heart picks up speed, not used to such physical displays of genuine affection.

The distance between them feels like it’s finally being bridged. Something unspoken lingers in the air, a fragile tension that neither of them can ignore anymore. His hands find her waist, and he pulls her just a little closer, feeling the slight hitch in her breath as she melts into him.

She stays quiet for a moment, her body moving gently with his, the music guiding their movements.

“Leon,” she whispers, her voice low but sincere, “I don’t think I ever said it, but… I trust you. More than anyone.” A lump forms in his throat, and he closes his eyes for a second, steadying himself. He pulls back just a bit, enough to look into her eyes.

“You don’t have to say it,” he says, his voice soft. “I know.” The space between them, once filled with the unspoken tension of their roles, seems to vanish. And in that moment, Leon realizes that it’s not just trust they share—it’s something deeper, something neither of them had been willing to acknowledge until now. Her hand rises to his chest, pressing against his heart as their faces draw nearer. The soft glow of the bar lights paints everything in shades of amber, casting them in a haze of fleeting warmth.

“Leon,” she murmurs again, her voice barely a breath against his lips. He doesn’t need her to finish the sentence. He can feel it in the way her body trembles just slightly as she leans in, her lips so close to his that he can almost taste the moment. Without thinking, he closes the distance between them, the kiss soft and gentle, all things Leon isn’t used to. It’s a slow realization, a gradual unfolding of something neither of them had anticipated—but something that feels right. The world outside this quiet moment fades away. All that’s left is the warmth that Leon has been seeking for so long.

_________________

Everything has gone to hell. It started decently enough, a typical case of a B.O.W that had been released into the public, stirring up terror. It all went wrong so fast. An explosion rattles through the air, and Leon can feel the heat from the flames, the force pushing him back, falling onto the pavement. The pain from the impact is forgotten as he hears her scream. His heart stops beating as he forces himself up, finding a new sense of adrenaline as he races to where the creature has her cornered. It's one hell of a genetic fuck-up, a big hulking beast with withered skin that looks like it’s been burnt. Elongated limbs drag on the ground as it skulks toward her, bony claws decorating the tips. Its gnashing teeth are aimed at ripping into her throat, the beast's mouth is already stained with blood. Leon can’t think straight, the only thing in his mind is her. He races as fast as his strained legs can carry him, a wild frantic look in his eyes as he raises his gun to aim. The creature has her in its grip, its mutated hand grabbing her by the throat, threatening to crush her windpipe as it dangles her above the pavement.

“No!” Leon cries out, feeling as though his entire world might shatter. Her legs are twitching and kicking, eyes bulging out of her skull as she opens her mouth in a vain attempt to suck in even a breath of air. Leon aims and sends a cluster of bullets towards its skull. The beast roars in pain, flinging the girl against the pavement as it lumbers towards him. Leon grits his teeth as he sends more bullets flying toward it, and by some sheer luck, one manages to go right through its eye. He breathes out a sigh of relief as it finally stumbles forward, succumbing to the fatal blow. His victory is short-lived though, his eyes falling on the rookie. She still hasn’t moved, remaining limp on the cold cement. Leon kneels beside her, ignoring the pain from his own aching body as he gently cradles her in his arms. She is pliable and unmoving, like a ragdoll in his arms as he brings her to his chest. Her lips are tinged blue from lack of oxygen and her neck is inflamed from the strangulation, but Leon breathes out a sigh of relief as his fingers find her pulse, a steady thump emanating from her. As the chaos fades away, reinforcements finally arrive at the scene, Leon holds her in his arms, unwilling to let go. A medic approaches, trailed by a pair of agents.

"Please," he bemoans, trying to quell the fear in his heart as the medic kneels down beside him, gently taking the girl from his arms. He watches intently, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his chest. She was hurt. He hadn't been enough to protect her and she had gotten hurt. He feels tears prick in the corners of his eyes and he has to remind himself that he is being watched and judged right now. Leon forces himself to remain stoic, however on the inside, he can't help but lament that he failed her.

____________

The days following the mission were quiet. Leon had invited her to rest in his apartment, not trusting those bastards to give her the proper time to recover. It was strange having another person in his space, hell, he wasn’t used to having his own space. The apartment was a place he felt he hardly spent time in, being shipped around at the government's whim. It was nice to have something in his name though, and even nicer to have someone share it with him. The rookie made his sterile apartment feel more like a home than it ever had before. Leon fell into the role of caretaker quickly, letting her rest in his bed as he brought her tea for her throat and helped bandage her wounds. She would lament, saying she wasn’t dead yet and could care for herself, rolling her eyes playfully whenever he poked his head in to check on her. He couldn’t help himself though, part of him was still in shock that she was alive, that she had come out of that mission with her heart still beating. Leon knew his feelings weren’t strictly platonic, not after the kiss they had shared at the bar, not after the soul-sucking fear he had felt after cradling her limp body amidst the aftermath of the chaos. Feelings were a luxury he hadn’t let himself indulge in in years. This isn't lust, he knows that much. Lust is like a quelling fire that burns in his gut, one that’s hot and heavy and must be put out lest he be driven mad. No, how he feels is not a burning passion, but a steady flame, like laying by a crackling hearth and letting the warmth wash over him. As he looks into her eyes, he feels as if he is home. Leon isn’t sure if he has ever experienced love, but he imagines that this is what it feels like.

One evening as they are sitting on the edge of his bed, only half paying attention to a movie he had rented, he turns to look at her, feeling his chest swell with that warm fuzzy emotion again. He doesn’t have to put up a facade of strength and bravery, a performance of a loyal government agent. With her, she sees him for what he is. A scared broken man. Leon can’t afford to be vulnerable very often, neither of them could, but perhaps for now they could both step out of their protective shells and be who they are.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, mesmerized by her. She turns to meet his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. She doesn’t say anything at first, the silence deafening as Leon starts to wonder if perhaps this was a mistake.

“I love you too,” she finally admits, her hand reaching for his as he meets her halfway, tenderly holding hands as if they were a pair of schoolchildren in the playground. Leon can feel his heart swell, his mind growing fuzzy as he tries to wrap his head around this feeling. Relationships are impractical in this line of work, and he can’t be certain of his future, much less one he could have with her. To calm the flood of emotions that are coursing through him he does the only thing he knows that can calm him. He lurches forward like a man possessed, crashing his lips to hers as his hand comes up to clasp his face, her palm gently grasping his cheek as if he was a piece of treasure that might slip through her fingers less she is too rough. It’s an odd feeling, to be cherished Leon thinks to himself as he kisses her. He doesn’t think of himself as worthy enough to be cherished, to be loved at all. In his mind, he is unworthy, just a broken man who isn’t sure of what exactly he is doing, not used to making his own choices in life. But as the kiss grows more heated, Leon can only think of one thing he wants to do. To worship the woman he loves.

Leon falls to his knees before her. He doesn’t believe in God, not anymore at least. But as he looks up at her angelic face, he imagines this is what God’s love must feel like; warm and comforting, ever-present as he feels the adoration inside of him, seeping into his bone marrow. She spreads open her thighs and Leon doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between them. His tongue is pressed flat against her core, licking a steady stripe up her slit. He can’t tell if it's her musky sweet scent that makes him feel as though he has been electrocuted or the way she parts her lips and moans, but the feeling shoots straight to his groin.

“Don’t hold back angel, I want to hear you sing” he murmurs into her folds, pressing kisses to her clit as she arches her back as he wraps his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He buries his face into her core, her legs twitching as they wrap around his head, pulling him in closer. She’s whimpering and moaning as Leon has his mouth around her clit, tongue swirling around it as he slowly sinks a finger into her. The tightness is warm and wet and Leon can’t help but groan at the feeling. He sinks his finger into the knuckle before pulling out, slowly easing another one into her. He pauses as she adjusts to the feeling, holding still to simply bask in the way she looks. Mouth open, frozen in wanton pleasure as she starts to squirm, a silent plea for him to continue. Leon happily obliged, building up a steady pace with fingers, the room echoing with a mixture of her moans and the squelching of her arousal. His fingers thrust into her at an angle, finding that special spongy spot as her breaths came out in pants. Leon couldn’t help but feel a smirk tug at his lips as he began to repeat his motions, watching in awe as her chest heaved and her stomach tightened. A few quick kitten licks to her clit had her throwing back her head, her fingers entangling themselves in his hair. As she comes undone, he continues to work her through her orgasm, fingers finally slipping out as he pulls his face back, his chin glossy with her arousal. He crawls up her body, running a hand along the curves of her face as he presses his lips to hers and he can’t help but melt into her. She is everything he is not, and he feels as though he has found a missing piece of his soul.

“I love you,” Leon murmurs, breaking away to gaze into her eyes. He can’t bring himself to care about the ramifications of his actions, the potential discourse of his admission of affection. At this moment, he is not an agent, he’s just a man in love.

“I love you too,” the rookie whispers back, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Leon groans softly, feeling all too aware of his growing desire. The rookie reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulls him back to her.

“I’m ready if you are,” she says, her lips ghosting over his ear. Leon suppresses a shudder as meets her lips in a kiss, his free hand grasping the base of his cock as he runs in through her slick folds. With a groan he slowly sinks into her, the warmth enveloping him as he loses himself to her. He stills for a moment, the pair basking in the feeling of becoming one before Leon slowly starts to thrust, pulling out before gently thrusting back up into her. A whine leaves his mouth before he can stop it, the pleasure is all-consuming as he keeps up a gentle thrust. Her arms cling to him, a hand trailing down his back. Leon can’t tell where he ends and where she begins, all he can feel is the tightening of his stomach, his pace becoming more erratic as the coil inside him grows taut. He raises her thigh, pulling back slightly to worm a hand between the two of them, his calloused finger on her clit as he massages it, building up the pace until he can feel her clench around him, her whines and moans growing to a high pitch. Leon watches as her body begins to shake against him, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he waits for her to finish. It’s a beautiful sight to watch her come undone against him, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. With a final grunt, he pulls out, his hip bucking upward into his hand as cums on her stomach, his body shaking from the feeling.

He falls beside her, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving from exertion. His arms wrap around her, pulling her close to him as he closes his eyes and presses a kiss to her temple. There are no words to be said. The night will soon end and it will be a new day. Leon isn’t sure what the future holds for them as their lives are not theirs to control. If he could freeze time he would spend an eternity like this, pressed up against her, frozen in a kiss until the end of time. Leon couldn’t think of a more beautiful existence.

Note: I hope you've enjoyed this! Posting makes me nauseous lol. If there are any errors I apologize!

Tag:@tarantulasnot

#bonnibuckreblog #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon

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bonnibuckets · 4 months ago

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hey pookie….

heyyy

#moots <3 #inbox 💌#bonniform

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bonnibuckets · 4 months ago

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BRO HOW AM I JUST FINDING OUT ABT THIS FIC BABE????

STARRY-EYED!

MDNI: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count. 4.5k

cws. puppy hybrids, p in v, knotting, creampie, breeding, rebecca & billy are married because i push that agenda 25/8, humping, heats, mentions of spaying/experimentation

note. this is the first fic without dark content that i’ve written in a minute so pls bear with me if it’s mid lmao. not proofread but we ball!!

taglist. @argreion , @d10nyx , @sqiim , @shiawaseorii , @valslullaby , @dollita-fawn , @arminsbf , @fairry1 , @localkiss , @angelstargel , @littlemissloser

You weren’t an old girl. Really. Jaded, sure, but not old. Not yet. Jaded was the way anyone would end up in your old uniform. Rose-tinted glasses tend to fall off when head scratches are replaced by police drills. On paper, you were in the prime of your life — this was the strongest you’d be, the healthiest you’d be, the sharpest you’d be. But something within you couldn’t help but be a homebody after so many years in the RPD.

You were a police dog, born and bred. Hybrids today were as much of a craze as they were a controversy, but in your time, your use was strictly professional. Private experimentation and sacrilege surrounded your birth in the absence of loving fervor — your embryo was lab-crafted, perfectly manufactured to give you a canine’s senses and a human’s mind. You’d joined the force while you were still a pup, ate from the chief’s hand, and slept in one of the locker rooms. And you were a damn good cop. The best of ‘em. You had to be — until a gunshot wound to the knee rendered you achy and less mobile than required for the force.

There were thousands of embryos that perished before you, but you were amongst the first to survive — to prevail — and now, you spent your days barking at people outside and napping with your cheek on Billy’s thigh. It wasn’t a bad life. Far from it. But it wasn’t your life. That left you somewhere between puppy and midlife, suddenly purposeless and painfully awkward when you tried to find one for yourself.

Still, you hadn’t processed it as a bad thing — just how you were. It’d been two years since your discharge — two years of sleeping in at the foot of your owners’ bed and cushy vet visits. Comfort was still largely foreign to you, and the affection often advertised with modern hybrids had seemed to wedge itself out of your DNA. Perhaps intentionally. No point in a coddling police dog. You weren’t manufactured to cuddle up to criminals. But it didn’t really occur to you that Rebecca wanted you to feel like you were natural until your second annual checkup.

She’d chatted away with the vet as you’d zoned out, about the circumstances of your adoption and the sharpness of your canines. You’d heard it a million times over – first flattered, then offended, now indifferent. Your floppy ears didn’t perk up till you heard the word puppies, suddenly tilting your head to the side in confusion. The vet raised an eyebrow, chuckling at your abrupt interest.

“Yeah, puppies. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

You had to resist curling your lip into a snarl at the idea, wrinkling your nose instead – shaking your head out of sheer pettiness. You saved your voice for people who didn’t ask you questions like that. For people who didn’t look dumbfounded by your reaction.

“Is something wrong?” Rebecca chimed in, instinctively shifting closer to you – as if you needed protection from the vet, and as if you weren’t more capable of protecting her. You locked eyes with the vet as she shook her head, folding her arms like you were a disease.

“Just never seen that from a hybrid before,” she chuckled – albeit manually. “You’ve not been spayed, have you?”

Rebecca shook her head instantly, face soured in fervent distaste. “Gosh, never,” she said, drawing out the never as long as she could without starting a fight. You huffed in relief when the vet took the information in stride – for as long as she’d known you, she’d advocated for rights you’d never really considered having. She’d threatened to quit a few years back when some of the higher-ups had insisted on sterilization. They’d accepted that they’d needed a medic more than you’d needed surgery, so she’d gotten her way. Heat cycles were annoying, but you’d ultimately appreciated the gesture enough to come home with her a couple years later without a fight. She still got real stubborn when she fought – but now, any sign of her distress made the fur on your back stand up straight. That included spats at the vet’s office.

“Suppose I’m just surprised. Hybrids this young normally jump at the opportunity,” she shrugged, reaching to rub behind one of your ears. You allowed it for a couple of seconds, overtaken by thought. She had a point; canine hybrids were natural sluts. Especially puppies. Males would pop a knot half the time just by looking at you – back when you were around hybrids enough to see males, anyway. Puppies in heat fucked worse than the bunnies you’d seen on occasion. You’d never known if it was intentional – if they’d intended for you to breed like a bitch, or if heats were just a side effect they couldn’t quite weed out, but you did know that you weren’t quite exempt. You’d just gotten good at self-control – a pillow between your thighs and a hand clamped over your mouth worked well enough. You kept yourself pent-up enough for it to suffice.

“Well, she’s at the age where it would be best for her to have puppies – hybrids just typically wind up pregnant before then. Does she have any friends with them?” the vet continued, and Rebecca shook her head immediately. Not like she had to count; you didn’t have any friends.

“No, she’s always been more interested in my husband and I. She usually growls at other hybrids,” Rebecca laughed, and you nodded in affirmation. Other hybrids were threats before they were friends – and you’d not found one to be a viable friend. But the vet hadn’t shared your amusement.

The vet went on that day, about social delays and anxiety and some other bullshit you’d angrily ignored. You’d tried to dismiss it. Puppies were ridiculous. Friends were ridiculous. You would look ridiculous, inserted into that life. You’d assumed that she’d dismissed it, too, out of courtesy – if nothing else. But she hadn’t, and that’s what led to him.

In the middle of your foyer sat a floppy-eared puppy hybrid, tail thumping against the carpet at the sight of you. You growled when Rebecca crouched beside him, waiting to lunge if he got any closer to your owner – and luckily, he’d cowered immediately, knowing his place before you had to spell it out for him. You straightened up in pride, brow furrowing when you were scolded rather than praised.

“Calm down, alright? This is Leon – he’s here to live with us,” Rebecca introduced him, drawing her words out as she coaxed him to come closer. And he did, albeit a little slower than before – eyeing you with caution. You growled again at the prospect; he flinched like clockwork.

You sat on your haunches, completely dumbfounded – jaw slightly agape as you looked from him, to her, to him again. “Why?” you asked, throat dry, words hoarser than you’d anticipated – weaker than you’d ever be comfortable with. Shock was seldom felt by you, and you were less than pleased to waste it on a stray.

(The stray in question was well-groomed, freshly collared, and wet behind the ears — but you wanted him to be a stray enough to disregard that.)

“He’s your friend,” she said, as if your distaste was absurd. You might’ve insulted him in response if glaring at him hadn’t preoccupied you. As if your efforts would compel him to turn and run away forever. He was cute enough. Probably could get by batting those pretty blues and whining on welcome mats. That’s likely what had lured Rebecca in to begin with – she was never very good at avoiding something that needed to be taken care of. You leaned in close enough to make him back away on instinct – except, his instincts didn’t work quite right, and he stayed right in place, ears perking up like you were trying to play. Either he had an IQ of 5 or a memory span of 5 seconds. Bottom of the food chain. Maybe he was beyond Rebecca’s help.

Seeing that you weren’t going to respond, she sighed, patting down one of the blond cowlicks on his head. He was cute, sure, but even that pissed you off. Your owners weren’t supposed to be the type to adopt puppies sat nicely in pet store windows. Straight from the breeding mill – one of the hybrid ones that had faced the scorn of the city paper lately. You assumed that Leon’s idea of hardship was being weaned too early. He didn’t belong in the same room as you, as Rebecca, or as Billy as he stepped in – to your relief.

Billy took in the sight of Leon, blinking in disbelief – mouthing something to Rebecca. You couldn’t really make it out, but you doubted that he could, either. Something akin to ‘Why is there another one in my foyer?’ with a dash of ‘We’ve talked about this.’ She bit her lip, looking at him to avoid looking at Leon.

“He was picked to fill her old position in the RPD a few months ago,” she explained, nodding to him, then to you – like she was trying to connect you two already. “But they got rid of the program. It’s banned to use hybrids in the workplace.”

Admittedly, you knew that was a good thing, but you still visibly scowled. You hadn’t been paid, hadn’t been allowed rest during the day, and worked longer shifts than everyone – without being recognized as an employee. Shit was exhausting. First thing you did when you were adopted was curl up and sleep for thirty hours straight. You couldn’t tell if you were jealous that Leon had gotten out young and unscathed, or if you just wanted him out of your house.

“So why is he here?” Billy asked, voice laden with the sort of judgment that made you smile. Not for too long – Leon smiled when you smiled, so you forced your brow to furrow and your canines to reveal themselves. As if you’d actually bite him – you’d get scolded, and he’d probably taste like the RPD.

You’d hoped he’d still put his foot down, that he’d send him back to whatever section of the RPD he’d been kicked from with a note and five bucks tied to his collar, but he didn’t. Even though you’d been a hard sell when Rebecca first brought you home. Owning a hybrid meant sharing your space with something between a puppy and a coworker. Said a lot about a person, he used to say – before you’d shown up with a limp and nowhere to go. You were a special case, he still justified. You weren’t the sort of hybrid that pissed in the house and played with rubber balls. You lazed next to him when he turned on the television and could hold a discussion about the military.

But Rebecca had real pretty eyes. So did Leon, but Billy could’ve cared less about that. So they fluffed up a bed for him, right next to yours – even though yours had fallen out of use when they’d allowed you to curl up at the foot of theirs – and ordered a collar with their address. His address, now.

For the first time in months, you were kicked to your actual bed for the night. Not that you stayed. You sulked over by the door — beyond whining and pawing for their attention, but not above eavesdropping. You knew them well enough to know that when they laid down, Billy would say something about how you should be at the end of the bed, and Rebecca would sigh and turn on the light. And you were right — a soft glow in the crack of the door was your cue to spy.

You ended up zoning out most of their conversation. Bad habit. Your hearing had dulled a little after a lifetime of bullets whirring past your ears, and it was too late to bother with the mumbled parts behind the door. But after the initial excuses of Leon’s need for shelter, you caught the underlying reason behind his adoption: you.

“She’s fine,” Billy argued — and you would’ve argued with him, if not for the door. And your exclusion. “We hang out every night. Seems socialized to me.”

“Hybrids are supposed to play, Billy, not follow the lottery,” Rebecca sighed. “She’s still here, I just don’t want her missing out. Wouldn’t it be lonely, not knowing how to socialize with people like you?”

You had to step away when you heard that, irritated beyond belief. Back to square one. You’d thought they’d moved past taking pity on you. You didn’t take pity on yourself. All socializing with other hybrids led to was puppies and chase. You made the viewpoint apparent when Leon padded down the hall to follow you – turning away before he could get a word in.

The days passed, and your schedule reconstructed itself to fit him. Not that you welcomed the flexibility.

You used to get up at your leisure; now, Leon pawed at you till you opened your eyes around nine. The second you sat up, he moved to lick your cheek or nip at your ear or some other puppy bullshit, and you’d snap your jaws, forcing him back long enough to blink the sleep out of your eyes. He’d glue himself back to your side at breakfast, wave goodbye to your owners alongside you as they left, try to nestle up to you during naps, and paw at you when you spaced out, and tug at your ears in some halfhearted attempt to get you to play with him. It never worked, just like his jokes never made you laugh, but Leon had a thing for trying the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results. He probably had a thing for you, too, but the thought of that made your nose wrinkle in revulsion – even if most of it was an exaggeration.

He liked Rebecca enough, and reciprocated the indifference Billy managed to offer him – but you were the primary object of his affection. He looked at you with a strange, unrequited fondness behind his pupils, and you couldn’t bring yourself to gaze back. Something to do with irritation. Pride, maybe. Rebecca condoned it readily – he’d not been around other hybrids before. (Neither had you, and you weren’t acting like that.) He was still a puppy, albeit an older one. (You didn’t act like that when you were a puppy.) Well, you were brought up differently. (You couldn’t retaliate that.)

Leon never really knew when to shut up, so you ended up learning just about everything there was to know about him. Granted, if you had your way, he’d never speak again, but you’d always take an occasional anecdote over his daily oversharing. He wasn’t brought up in a lab like you were – most of those puppies had gone off to actual homes, and most of those scientists now littered the spectrum between retirement and prison. Leon had a mama, at some point, but his dad made himself scarce shortly after he was born – sort of like how you wanted to. But his mama belonged to somebody who still didn’t want to admit their hybrid had been defiled, so he bounced between homes till he ended up in the RPD’s clutches, over a year after your injury and a couple months after the last hybrid’s retirement.

You knew it was hardly a life to envy, but you still did. He’d been acquainted with the concepts of mamas and breastfeeding and friends. Even if it was brief. It wasn’t the sort of envy you felt comfortable admitting to yourself. It was the sort you forced your mind to redirect from. It hurt to think of the motherhood you were robbed of, just like it hurt imagine providing it.

You didn’t recognize the underlying fondness you’d developed for Leon’s awkward clinginess until it suddenly stopped. Like the faucet had been switched off. You noticed it the morning you finally got to sleep in, not taking the opportunity without suspicion – following his scent to the hall closet.

“Leon?” you asked, after a moment of consideration – not wanting to disrupt your own peace. “You alright?”

“M’fine,” he answered quickly, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You’d never cared for that tone. Heard it too many times during your days on the force. So you opened the door without knocking – because what the hell could he be doing in a hall closet?

Your hand froze against the knob as you stared at him, tears beaded at his waterline, pretty thighs settled on either side of one of your bed’s pillows as his fat cock rutted into the fabric. Your jaw fell agape as his did – though his was likely out of ecstasy rather than shock. You bit into your bottom lip, involuntarily wetting it with your tongue – noticing the way you were abruptly salivating. Even as your brain urged you to scold him for fucking your property, your body disallowed it, the words disintegrating in your throat. Heat pooled at the pit of your stomach as he tried to prevent the way his hips stuttered forward, muffling his leaky tip uselessly into the fabric.

Salivating over one cock didn’t make you a whore, you justified. And really, you weren’t. You’d only gotten dicked down once, some years before your adoption – and it’d been so underwhelming, you squirmed away before the knot could swell. It didn’t mean you stopped craving it – just meant you forced yourself to forget it. You weren’t pent-up, you’d repeat during heats, thighs squeezed around your aching cunt. You could control yourself better than that.

But it was a little harder to forget a cock as it wept for your attention, displayed prettily just beneath you. You came to the realization that he’d decided to isolate himself in heat, and blamed that for your shallow breaths and racing heart.

“Don’t be mad, m’sorry,” he started, forcing back a whine as his dick throbbed under your gaze. “Didn’t mean to, please–”

“Leon,” you sighed, as if you were a disappointed mother and not an abruptly cock-crazed whore, “I’m not mad…” Your words trailed off as you refused to commit yourself to the bit, skin hot. “Have you… dealt with this before? Being in heat, I mean.”

He nodded, ears going flat against his head as he made some attempt to cover himself, albeit with the same pillow. “Yeah, uh… yeah,” he cleared his throat, skin flushed. “They explained it to me when it happened at the station, ‘cause it was my first heat… just wasn’t this bad.”

“First one usually isn’t…” you muttered, more sympathetic of his circumstances than you’d been since his arrival. “It’s kind of silent, right? Inconvenient at worst. Doesn’t make you dizzy and sticky.”

Leon nodded, brow furrowed in slight confusion. Wasn’t like you to converse back. Wasn’t like you to get out of bed on your own, either – evidently, he’d relied on that a little too much, expecting you to stay asleep till his cock went soft. “Sorry,” he said again, words breathy and tone verging on a whine. “I couldn’t take it, didn’t wanna bother you, but your pillow smells like you, s’good–”

You raised a hand to cut him off, unsure what to do. On one hand, this most certainly wasn’t how Rebecca would want you to socialize with the new hybrid. New-ish. He’d been here long enough to map the rooms and the quickest ways to get treats. On the other hand, you were horny beyond belief. Horny enough for your clit to pulse faster than your heart. Your cunt stuck to the thin panties beneath your shirt, slick gathering between your thighs as you stood. Wasn’t this as good of a chance as any? Wasn’t it kind of you to help a puppy out during his first real heat?

You came to the entirely unbiased decision that yes, it would be beneficial to him, slowly running your hand from his thinly-clothed abdomen to his v-line. Through the fabric, his skin remained hot to the touch, glued haphazardly to his stomach by a thinner layer of sweat. He yelped when your thumb grazed his hip, the pads of your fingers nearing his cock – staring up at you with wide eyes.

“Are you sure you wanna help me?” he asked tentatively, still unadjusted to your sudden tolerance. You nodded a little too eagerly, a little too much like him, a little too desperate to put much thought into it. He smiled, albeit briefly, and for once, you thought he looked prettier like that – half-lidded and blissed.

So you let your hand fall flush against the pillow, fingers grazing his cock – watching another bead of precum dribble down the tip. You slid the pillow away, palming the base as the length slapped against his abdomen, leaking uselessly into his skin. You bit your lip as he whined, hips bucking forward as your grip solidified, desperate for the friction you’d briefly deprived him of as you considered your next course of action. You figured a handjob wouldn’t be enough to cool him off, and you didn’t particularly want to find out what cum tasted like – but it wasn’t a good idea to let him fuck you, as much as you wanted it. As much as he wanted it.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t almost fuck you.

“Stay still,” you muttered, tugging your panties down your thighs, stifling a grin when you heard his tail thump emphatically on the carpet behind him. At least your cunt was pretty. As much as puppy horniness vexed you, it was flattering, in its own right. So you parted your thighs a little wider, easing the plush of your ass onto his thighs, facing him as you sandwiched his throbbing cock between your folds. You had to pause with him for a moment, breath stilling in your lungs, thighs trembling against his.

“Fuck, just… just move,” you panted. “Don’t fuck me, just move.”

If you couldn’t give him credit for anything else, you could give him credit for being obedient – even when it was brief. If you told him to sit, he’d stay till you said it was okay. If you told him to back off in the morning, he’d go bother one of his toys. And when you told him to let his hips stutter upwards, sliding against yours, he obeyed – head tilted back as a groan rose from his chest.

Your cunt pulsed around him, clit throbbing as he rutted between your folds. Every uncontrolled jerk of his cock pressed his leaking head to your clit, slick dripping down from your hole to his balls. You leaned in, tip twitching against your swollen bud, pressing a kiss to his adam's apple – nipping at the skin till you’d imparted enough saliva to feel satisfied. He whined as he rutted harder, fingers twitching – desperate to pull you closer, well aware that you weren’t to be grabbed.

“You like being marked up, huh?” you asked, voice huskier than you’d intended it to be. Like someone else was speaking for you. Someone who was used to taking puppy cock. He opened his mouth to respond, failing – tilting his head back as you sank your canines into the dip between his neck and shoulder, feeling him uselessly roll his hips upward. Like nothing else mattered. Your lips were pressed to his neck – your tongue, your teeth, the marks you left behind. Why should anything else matter?

“G’na cum–” he whimpered as you sucked a bruise into the hollow of his throat, sliding your cunt down his length at an attempt of gaining friction. You nodded, surprised he’d managed to last at all. Surprised you’d managed to last at all.

“S’okay, just cum for me,” you murmured into his skin – and like a good boy, he did, cumming a line up from your clit to your navel, dick still hard enough to ache as his knot swelled against the underside of your clit. You bit your lip, unwilling to come undone in front of him, grinding involuntarily against the swell – not that it was enough. Not that your pussy stopped throbbing. Not that he went soft.

“Need more,” he whined, to your relief. “Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah?” you hummed, laughing breathily as he pressed his still-drooling tip between your lips. “Yeah, you wanna knot me? Wanna give me puppies?”

You didn’t really know where that came from. Still felt like a voice foreign to your conscience, but it wasn’t one you protested against as he eased himself into you, needy enough to bottom out within seconds. Your eyes widened at the stretch, humming as he pawed at your chest. He whined till you tugged up the hem of your shirt to rest at the top of your tits, face immediately pressing flush to them.

“You’ll let me?” he panted, pumping his cock into you as he nipped a visible indentation into one of your tits. “Wan’ me to breed you?”

You found yourself agreeing, enamored by the prospect – languidly rocking your hips with his, feeling his cock twitch desperately inside of you. “Yeah, want it,” you mewled, breath hitching as he bit down on your tit a little harder, quickly mending the pinch with saliva. “S’okay if my tits get swollen for you, Leon.”

Every time you spoke, he had to refrain from nudging his tip into your cervix. Last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. That was no way to treat someone you ached to pump a litter into! The thought alone made him whine, pressing his mouth to your chest again to take the pressure off, heat flaring in his lower belly at the thought of knocking you up. Like his instincts took over any cognition he had left around you.

“Please, lemme–” he choked out, and you never really got to know what the request was, ‘cause he pumped you full too fast, his knot swelling back up fast enough to make his head fuzzy – like every part of his body was dedicated to you. And he’d allow it to be – as smitten with you as you were smitten with dick.

You didn’t move, for once, allowing yourself to be knotted and bred, cunt clenching around his knot as you came on his cock. You slowly brought your lips to the top of his head, nose resting against one of his ears. More velvety than you’d expected. You’d have to nuzzle into them more often.

“They’re gonna be pissed…” he mumbled into your breast, slowly looking up – eyelids still droopy. You couldn’t exactly reassure him – your owners would be pissed, mostly at him. Probably. Hopefully. It’s not like you could do much but lay against him till he wasn’t swollen inside of you. Didn’t you deserve a moment of impulsivity after all you’d been through? Didn’t you deserve to get pumped full of cute puppies?

Besides, you’d brought it up before. Socializing with Billy meant rest, and socializing with Rebecca meant fun — but all socialization with other hybrids meant was puppies or conflict. You’d just given up on the latter when you found a way to tire him out.

#bonnireblog #eating this up #this was amazing #10/10 would recommend #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #hybrid #hybrids

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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just looked at my followers…lost like 300…oopsie! sorry for not posting, im just a busy college kid

#bonniform #oopsie #haha oops

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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why everyone deactivating?? 🤨 COME BACK MY SHAYLAAAASSSS literally like half my moots are gone 💔

#bonniform #my shaylaaaa #moots <3 #come baaaaaaack #i miss you

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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TEW GOOD, I need a cigarette while reading this…

FRUITS OF THE FLESH.

widow!reader x priest!leon

word count: 3.4k summary: a man reaps what he sows. masterlist | taglist | wips

18+ MDNI. catholicism, religious connotations, no specific time frame but i’d like to say victorian era-ish, alot of allusions to the lord or god, reader’s dead husband idk, inner conflict, denial, guilt, leon asking for forgiveness like a hundred times, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex.

a/n: started this like two months ago, just had the motivation to finally finish. i don’t really know how i feel about my writing on this one… i feel like i’ve lost all my skills after not writing for a few weeks

grief is truly a horrible thing. an all-consuming force that threatens to eat you from the inside out.

it’s a shadow that lingers, a specter that moves silently but persistently, weaving itself into the fabric of every moment. it does not announce its presence with fanfare, nor does it depart when you will it to. instead, it creeps, slow and steady, like the cold wind before a storm, pressing against your chest until breathing feels like a sin.

grief is not a feeling; it is a presence. it is a weight, heavy and suffocating, as if drowning in a dark, endless sea. the surface is so far above, unreachable, and the water presses in from all sides, choking the breath from your lungs. there’s simply no escaping it. eve when you close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, it finds you there too.

grief is a thief that takes more than just what you’ve lost—it takes time, peace, and clarity. it takes pieces of you.

and ever since your husband’s death, you’ve been trying to pick those pieces back up. but they slip through your fingers like sand, scattering in the wind, impossible to gather in their entirety. every attempt to rebuild feels futile, as though you’re trying to piece together a puzzle with missing parts, the picture never quite forming the way it once did.

the room is relatively empty, save for a few devout attenders who are spread out in their pews. the priest stands on the altar, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his features as he continues the mass. it’s a somewhat traditional ceremony, filled with prayers and rituals that you’d grown accustomed to.

the priest stands before the small congregation, the words of the mass flowing effortlessly from his lips.

you sit near the back, hands folded tightly in your lap. the rhythmic cadence of the priest’s voice, the latin prayers echoing in the cavernous space, should bring you some semblance of peace, but it doesn’t. it feels distant, as though you’re watching the service through a veil, separated from the others.

the priest's voice drones on, a familiar melody that fails to soothe the ragged edges of your heart. you feel like an outsider, a stranger among the devoted faithful. even the rituals that once brought comfort now seem hollow, the prayers falling flat against the weight of your sorrow.

as the mass draws to a close, the priest's eyes meet yours, his gaze piercing and knowing. for a moment, you feel like an animal trapped in his sights, vulnerable and exposed.

the priest's gaze lingers on you a moment longer than necessary as he processes the end of the mass. the small congregation begins to file out of the pew, murmuring gentle blessings and well-wishes to one another. he watches them go, his eyes lingering on each face, before turning to face you once more.

the nave slowly empties, leaving only a handful of devotees behind, including yourself. he remains at the altar, hands folded in quiet contemplation. the soft rustle of the evening breeze carries the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a melancholy reminder of the passing seasons.

"you stayed behind," leon observes, his voice a gentle whisper.

"is there something on your mind, my child?" he approaches you slowly, his large frame casting a long shadow across the stone floor.

“no, father, everything’s fine," you lie through your teeth, your voice barely a whisper.

"is all well?" there's a pause, and in it, you sense an invitation to share your burdens, to unburden yourself to this man of the cloth. but the words stick in your throat, tangled around the aching void your husband left.

what could you possibly say? what good would it do? the priest's eyes search yours, his face etched with compassion. then, he nods, as if he understands the futility of words.

he accepts your silence, his gaze softening with understanding. in this sacred space, he knows better than to pry, to force confessions or unburdenings. instead, he allows you the solitude you crave, the quiet contemplation you so desperately need.

the silence between you stretches on, a fragile truce that exists solely in this sacred space. it's a comfort, of sorts, to have this shared quiet, a reminder that even in the depths of your grief, there are still moments of solace to be found.

"i'll leave you be for now," leon says eventually, his voice a gentle murmur that breaks the spell.

"thank you, father." he nods, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he takes his leave, the soft rustle of his robes the only sound in the hallowed space.

eventually, you rise, stretching your stiff limbs. the cool stone beneath your feet is a jarring contrast to the warmth of the pew. making your way to the front of the church, you light a candle, your fingers brushing against the smooth glass as you set it upon the altar. the flame flickers to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the surrounding statues.

you linger a moment longer, savoring the peaceful atmosphere, before making your way out.

the church is bathed in an eerie, moonlit glow when you return late that night. the candle you lit earlier still burns, its flame a slowly dying down.

you move with a quiet reverence, your footsteps muffled by the soft carpeting as you make your way to the front row of pews. you've come seeking answers, but none present themselves as you approach the altar. the statue of the crucified christ looms above, his suffering face a poignant reminder of the pain that accompanies loss.

the shadows cast by the statues seem to deepen and twist, taking on a life of their own in the dim light. a shiver runs down your spine, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. something feels off, a discordant note that you can't quite place.

you pray, hoping it’ll all go away, but unease persists.

it's subtle at first, a whispered thought on the edge of your consciousness. but the longer you have your back turned, the more you feel as if someone is behind you. but you don’t dare look.

not until it speaks.

“what are you doing here, my child?," you hear him say softly, his voice carrying a note of gentle warning. "you shouldn't be here this late."

his words send a chill down your spine, the softness of his tone at odds with the tension emanating from him. you slowly turn around, your heart pounding in your chest. leon stands just behind your seat, his silhouette large and imposing against the blackness outside. his eyes glint in the candlelight, a predatory keenness that makes your blood run cold.

"father," you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. "i... i just felt the need to pray," he takes a step closer, his footsteps deliberate and heavy.

"at this hour? prayers can wait till morning. you shouldn't be here, not alone, not now.”

“but, why?” you ask, a hint of fear creeping into your voice. “does the church not allow visitors at any time?”

guilt pricks at his heart, a sharp pang of conscience that he's not entirely sure he wants to acknowledge. “no, of course not. the church doors are always open. but this is late, and you're alone... it's just not safe,” his tone is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of something else - a hunger he's trying his damnedest to suppress.

“is that really the reason, father?”

guilt gnaws at him, a growing sense of unease that he can't quite shake. "of course, that's the only reason," he lies, his voice wavering slightly. but the truth lingers in the air, a palpable tension that he can't seem to dissipate.

he takes a step closer, drawn to you like a moth to flame despite his better judgment. "perhaps... perhaps i misjudged. the church's doors are always open, for the faithful and the lost alike," his eyes roam over your face, drinking in the curves of your features, the softness of your skin in the candlelight. “especially to you.”

a low groan escapes him, half-desire, half-anguish. "forgive me, child. i should not be saying these things,”

“no, wait—“ you softly reach for his arm.

he freezes at the touch, his breath catching in his throat as your fingers make contact with his arm. the sensation sends a jolt of electricity through him, his resolve crumbling like sand beneath the tide.

"don't," he whispers, his voice rough with strain. "please, don't." but even as the words leave his lips, he can't bring himself to pull away, to sever the connection between you.

“but i haven’t done anything, father,”

"you've done plenty, my child," he murmurs, his voice thick with a mix of longing and self-loathing. "just by being here, by existing... you've awakened desires i thought long buried." leon's breathing grows ragged, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

he steps closer still, the heat of his body radiating towards you like a physical manifestation of his turmoil. "i am a man, not a saint," his confession hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his forbidden attraction.

“and…” he shakes his head, a bitter struggle that leaves him weak-kneed and aching. "i should send you home," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cover yours, to hold it in place. "before we both regret this.”

“no, please don’t push me away, father,” you plead.

his eyes flicker closed, as if in supplication to some higher power, as the admission spills from his lips: "i'm sorry, child. so very sorry for what i am about to do.”

his body crowds yours, crushing the air from your lungs with the sheer force of his need. his mouth descends, claiming yours in a bruising kiss that sets your very soul ablaze. the world narrows to the taste of him — smoke, spice, and something uniquely his own.

it's overwhelming, consuming, and yet, somehow, it's the most natural thing in the world.

and when you end up pushed up against his office desk, the wood cold and unforgiving against your back, you know things have gone irrevocably awry. his hands, so recently devoted to guiding prayer, now roam the curves of your body with a reverence bordering on the religious.

your lips part on a gasp, allowing him greater access, and he seizes the invitation with a fervor that leaves you breathless. large hands roam your body, mapping the contours of your frame with a desperation that belies his years of discipline. he breaks the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, the rapid beating of your pulse point a siren's call he's powerless to resist.

he's shaking, the tremors starting deep within, spreading outward through his muscles like ripples on a pond's surface.

"forgive me, lord," he whispers to himself, as if seeking divine absolution from the sin that he’s about to commit. but even as the plea leaves his lips, he doesn't let go. instead, he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your knuckles.

then he's on his knees in front of you, hands grasping at the hem of your dress. the fabric rustles as he pushes it upward, baring your thighs to his hungry gaze. his breath is heavy, face mere inches from your center.

"tell me to stop," he pleads, his voice a ragged whisper. "command me to sin no more, and i will obey.”

for a moment, he teeters on the brink, the line between devotion and lust blurring until it's nearly indistinguishable. "please," leon's eyes lock onto yours, searching for the strength to resist, to obey his vows. but what he finds there is surrender, a silent plea that sends his resolve crumbling like the weakest brick.

"father," you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips.

he closes his eyes, a silent, anguished prayer issuing forth from his lips. his hands tremble as they part your legs wider, stealing a breath from your chest. slowly, reverently, he leans in, finally dragging you underwear down, exposing you to his gaze.

"you are so beautiful,"

his voice cracks on the words, a mixture of awe, reverence, and raw, animal desire. he can't tear his eyes away from your unveiled flesh, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst.

"pray with me," he murmurs, his breath hot against your slick folds. "ask for forgiveness, for the sins we are about to commit." even as he speaks, he's dragging his tongue along your inner thigh, the sensation making you gasp and shudder.

"our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,”

his hands roam your hips, gripping the soft flesh as if to steady himself against the waves of his own depravity.

“thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,"

each curve of your body yields to his touch as his fingertips traced a path of fire across your skin. desperation and control tangled within his gestures, gripping onto the softness beneath his hands as he strives to anchor himself against the tumultuous waves of desire and decadence that threaten to crash over him.

“glory be to the father, and to the son, and to the holy spirit…”

the words are a broken whisper, a plea for mercy that's drowned out by the urgent throb of his own need.

“amen.”

he brings his mouth to you at last, and with a groan of surrender, he begins to eat you out with a hunger that knows no bounds.

he laves at your clit with a fervor that leaves you panting and weak-kneed. you're a mess of whimpers and moans, your hands fisting in his hair as he works you over. leon's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the flesh as he eats you out with a single-minded determination.

"yes, yes, just like that," you babble, your voice a desperate chant, even as your vision starts to blur at the edges.

one of his hands drifts lower, his fingers seeking out the entrance to your womb. he teases the delicate skin, tracing the outline of your slit before slipping a finger inside. a low groan rumbles in his chest at the slick heat that envelops him, urging him on.he works two fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm, the lewd squelch of your juices only further fueling his own desire.

"please, father, i need—" the words die on your lips as a particularly intense thrust of his fingers sends you plummeting over the brink.

his eyes blaze with an unholy light as he takes in your ravished expression, his own need reaching a fever pitch. he surges to his feet, shedding his robe and shoving his pants down with a desperate haste. he reaches for you, pulling you forward effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all.

he wraps a hand around himself, stroking himself in time with the frantic beat of his heart. "i'm sorry," he whispers, his voice raw with anguish and guilt. "so very sorry."

he hovers over you, his thick length prodding, seeking entrance to the very core of your being. you help guide him in, a hand slowly pushing back on the back if his neck as the thick head of his cock breaching your entrance with a slight burning sensation. he groans, his hips bucking forward as he sheathes himself fully within you.

for a moment, you're both still, letting the intensity of it all wash over you.

and he starts to move forward, inch by inch, the wooden desk creaks in protest beneath you. his eyes squeeze shut as he buries himself to the hilt, your slick walls clenching around him like a vice.

"oh, my lord, forgive me," he breathes, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he struggles to still the tremors that rack his frame. "i am a man undone.”

he starts to move, slowly at first, each thrust a testament to the effort it takes him to resist the primal urge to rut into you like an animal in heat. his hips rise and fall in a deliberate rhythm, each stroke drawing a gasp from your lips.

"you feel so good," he rasps, his breath hot against your skin. he pulls nearly all the way out before plunging back in, the slick glide of his thick length a pleasure unlike anything you've ever known.

sweat drips from his brow as he pounds into you with a fervor that borders on religious ecstasy. each thrust is a prayer, a confession, a plea for absolution. his eyes never leave yours, searching for some glimmer of forgiveness in their depths.

"i'm— i’m close," he warns, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

your head rolls back, a silent moan escaping your lips as the pleasure mounts. his hands fly to your face, cradling your cheeks as he forces your gaze to meet his.

"please, please, don't look away." he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a chaste kiss. "i need to see you," he murmurs, his hips stuttering in their relentless rhythm as he fights for control.

he can feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter within him until he's teetering on the precipice. his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing as if trying to imprint every curve and valley onto his very being.

he's a hairsbreadth from the edge, the tension coiled so tightly within him that he's not sure he can contain it much longer. but for you, he'll try.

he'll endure the sweet agony of restraint. he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers a final plea.

"dear god, i'm so very sorry." the words are a prayer, a plea for forgiveness not just from the divine, but from you. he knows that what he's doing is wrong, that he's violating the sacred trust that he's been entrusted with as a man of the cloth. but in this moment, caught up in the maelstrom of his own desire, he can't bring himself to care.

he hooks an arm beneath your knees, pulling you higher up on the desk. the new angle allows him to drive even deeper, the head of his cock brushing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your body responds, arching up to meet him as a keening wail tears from your throat. he watches, entranced, as ecstasy washes over you in waves, your face a mask of rapturous bliss.

you finally feel his heat as it floods your innermost depths just moments later.

he collapses onto you, his weight crushing in its intimacy as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his heart pounds against your ribcage, a frantic with regret and release.

he stays there, draped over you, his breathing ragged and uneven as he tries to regain some semblance of control. his body is slick with sweat, his muscles trembling with the aftershocks. slowly, he pulls back, his hands still cradling your face as he looks deep into your eyes.

his breath comes in ragged gasps as he struggles to regain some semblance of control, to quiet the chaos that rages within him.

"forgive me," he whispers, the plea hanging heavy in the air between you.

he knows it's not enough. he's broken the trust, violated the sacred vows he's taken. there's no going back from this, no easy path to redemption. the knowledge that he's failed, that he's fallen so very far from the path of righteousness, fills him with a deep, abiding shame. but for now, in this moment, he can only cling to the thin thread of your forgiveness and hope that it's enough.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

#bonnireblog #need more #i love this so so so much #they cooked #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #infinite darkness leon #priest leon #widow reader #leon kennedy smut

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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why tf i gotta identify stupid ass rocks bro

#bonniform #geology #what if i kms #im going insane #stupid ass #dumbass #stupid shit #geology rocks

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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omg im crying writing this fic. i still need to edit it but GYATT damn i’m emo dude. its an old request i never got to (im so sorry)

#bonniform #im emo now #im crying #im emotional

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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need them both PLEASE PLEASE 🙏

SNOW ON THE GLASS ♡

pairing: dilf!leon kennedy x fem!reader x milf!ada wong

summary: you love your job as the kennedys nanny. it's fairly easy and pays great. plus you may have a tiny crush on your bosses. but as it turns out, they may reciprocate that feeling more than you know.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, mild dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, mommy kink, intoxication/intox kink, breeding kink, praise kink, age gap (late 30s, early 20s)

a/n: birthday gift for my wonderful bestie @explorevenus!! i love you so so much <3 also also also, imagine them both at their re6 ages, i just couldn't find any pics of re6 ada i liked sue me 😔

Little white flakes of snow landed one after another on the clear pane of glass in front of your face. You chewed your bottom lip while watching the flurries compile on the window, and in-turn, your car parked in the driveway.

Behind you, a pair of sharp heels clacked against the tile floor as the owner of said driveway returned to the room. Ada stepped through the archway and down the half-step to approach you by the front door. Laying a gentle hand on your shoulder, she smiled when you turned to look at her.

“Here’s your check, sweetheart,” she said, bringing a small rectangular paper to brush against your fingertips.

“Thank you,” you replied as you took it from her. Your eyes immediately made their way back to the storm outside that grew worse by the second.

She followed your gaze, her palm staying in place on your shoulder. Unlike you, Ada’s face remained composed. She wasn’t worried in the slightest. She’d known this storm was coming. It was an integral part of her plan for tonight.

But despite her internal calmness, she furrowed her dark brows and injected some worry into her tone.

“It’s getting bad out there. That snow is just piling up,” she proclaimed, “There’s no way you should be driving in weather like that.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your thoughts had been reaching the same conclusion. You were just hesitant to voice them because after a long day of work, you yearned for the comfort of your apartment. It was finally the weekend, and your plush bed and soft sheets called to you. You’d been dreaming of the quiet between those walls all day. The privacy to do whatever you wanted that you didn’t have when you were here for most hours of the week.

Make no mistake, you loved your job as the Kennedys full-time nanny, but regardless of your enjoyment, it was still work that required a lot of attention and labor. Their daughter was the sweetest child you’d ever met; however, carting her to and from dance class and kindergarten along with making her food, playing with her, and putting her down for naps piled up on you.

“Maybe if I leave now, I can make it…” you thought aloud.

“Oh please. Honey, you live across town. You’d have to take the highway, and people drive crazy as is. I should know, my husband is one of them,” she joked.

Your brows raised at the mention of Leon. You hadn’t even thought about how your other employer would get home tonight. You looked over your shoulder at her again. “Do you think he’ll be ok? It’s coming down really hard out there,” you said.

“Oh he’ll be fine,” she waved off, “His friend is giving him a ride home tonight. I’m sure they’ll make it in one piece.”

Releasing a small breath of relief, you nodded again.

“It’s really no problem if you stay,” she continued, “We have the guest room all set up. It has a bathroom attached, so you’d have total privacy. And I wouldn’t make you watch Christina or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh no,” you reassured, “It’s not that, don’t worry. I just don’t want to be a burden on you and Mr. Kennedy.”

“You’re never a burden on us. With all you do for Christina, you’re practically part of the family. I wouldn’t want you driving off and getting into an accident just because you didn’t want to impose. I’m sure you know that we have more than enough space in this house,” she said and ran her hand over your bicep down to your wrist. Her manicured nails scraped over your skin, eliciting a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You felt a simmer of heat in your chest upon hearing those kind words coming from her painted lips. That combined with the teasing touch had your heart pumping a little faster in your chest. It was something you rarely thought about, but maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of why you enjoyed this job so much was because both of your employers looked like reoccuring stars in people’s wet dreams all over the world.

“Thank you. I would really appreciate it,” you answered, your prior trepidation dissolving under the heat of her gaze. You slid your check into your purse and then placed the bag back down on the end table by the door.

She smirked, though she tried to make it appear as an earnest smile. Of course, Ada sensed the little crush you had on her and her husband. It wasn’t hard to tell given the way you preened in the face of the slightest of compliments or gave them the look a puppy would give its owner whenever they praised you for your hard work.

“Great,” she said, “Come with me. I’ll put on some dinner. We’ll get you fed and then I’ll show you to your room and be out of your hair for the night.”

Her slender fingers clasped around your hand, guiding you back through that archway and towards the kitchen. The two of you passed by a few family portraits and expensive paintings before reaching your destination - the luxurious kitchen that probably held a value higher than all the money you’d made in your life.

You could fit about six of your kitchens in this one. That would be another nice thing about staying here for the night, getting to use the high end items they had stocked rather than the odds and ends you owned.

She led you across the gray marble floors over to the spacious island, all but sitting you down on one of the stools.

“You just relax for a few minutes, and I’ll work on the food,” she said.

You took your seat, not willing to protest her hospitality further. Your eyes scanned around the kitchen you’d become so familiar with over the last year. She walked into the pantry for a couple seconds, returning with a box and some small containers before setting them on the counter.

“You like pasta?” she asked.

“Who doesn’t?” you responded.

She let out a small laugh at that. “No wonder Leon likes you so much. A girl after his own heart.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea that Mr. Kennedy liked you. Before hearing that, you didn’t suspect he had any problems with you. In fact, he let you know all the time that he was pleased with your performance and couldn’t ask for anyone better to take care of Christina. But appreciating you and liking you were two separate things, the latter of which gave you that warm feeling in your stomach.

In the corner of the counters, Ada bent down to grab a pot. Your eyes went with her, dragging along her figure to where her form-fitting black slacks covered the swell of her ass. As soon as you realized you were staring, you averted your gaze. You pushed out any further thoughts about how her red blouse was probably unbuttoned at the top, allowing a clear view of her breasts down the front of the shirt.

She stood back up with the pot in hand and filled it with some water. Tapping the electric stove to life, she put it on to boil. You watched as she poured some oil in the water and then grabbed a pan to put on for what you assumed would be the sauce.

With both pieces heating up, she moved to the cabinets up above. She reached for the one next to the section that held all of Christina’s dishes, her sippy cups and princess plates. The cupboard you took from most of the time you were here.

Instead of grabbing a Little Mermaid themed piece of tupperware, her hand retrieved two wine glasses. She spun around to face you and brought the fragile items over to the island. After placing them in front of you, she stepped into a nearby alcove, the place you knew they kept all the liquor.

She came back with a nice bottle, something more rich than you’d ever drink on your own. Popping it open, she went to pour, but you interrupted.

“I don’t really need any,” you said with a timid smile.

While you weren’t a prude about drinking under other circumstances, Ada was still your boss. Being under any kind of influence around her held a risk you didn’t find worth taking.

She just smirked at you though, not making any effort to conceal it this time.

“C’mon, loosen up a bit,” she coaxed, “You’re not on the clock. You’ve been working all week, even later today since I was late. Take it as my apology.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You paid me for the overtime,” you replied.

“Still. Keeping you longer than expected on short notice is inconsiderate,” she said.

She rounded the counter with the bottle and your glass in hand. Upon reaching you, she set the glass down directly in front of you with the bottle beside it. The proximity left no room for hesitation. One of her hands came up, brushing across the back of your neck to rest on your shoulder like it had earlier.

“You’re not saying no because you think this is some sort of test, do you? Because I wouldn’t bother with something like that, sweetheart. I was young once too,” she told you. You swore she was leaning in closer as her voice became more of a purr next to your ear, but you didn’t dare look. “I know how good a drink can feel after a long week. You’re human. My husband and I don’t expect you to be a child-friendly saint even when you’re not working,” she continued.

Her fingers rubbed miniscule circles on the cloth of your top. You still didn’t think it was the best idea to drink around your boss, but Ada had never given you a reason not to trust her. It was quite the opposite. Most days, the Kennedys seemed too good to be true.

You knew they were human. Occasionally while speaking to you, they’d slip in a jab about the other or allude to some sort of marital problem that sprouted up after years of being together. They’d make mistakes like coming home late or forgetting to tell you that Christina’s dance lesson had been canceled until you were already on the way there.

But when it came to their relationships with you, they were absolute dreams. They gave you expensive gifts for your birthday and Christmas. Paid you above what was the standard for nannies in this area. Talked to you like someone they were interested in rather than a person they were forced to interact with. And hell, now they were offering up their home to you when you needed it.

“Alright. If it’s ok with you,” you agreed.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said and tilted the bottle towards your glass.

Deep red liquid spilled into the curved dish. She wasn’t shy with how much she gave you, that was for sure. You could already smell that heady aroma swirling around the air.

“You can have as much as you’d like. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, we want you to feel at home here with us,” she said.

Before she walked away, her hand swept down your back, stroking it with a domineering, almost maternal sort of affection. It sent another round of chills through your body. You reached for the wine glass and gripped the stem hard. It was probably for the best that she and her husband weren’t actually around for most of your work here if this was how you reacted to a simple touch.

You brought the glass to your lips and sipped some of the liquid as she poured her own. After taking down some of the drink to numb your responsive nerves, you set it down again. You didn’t want to over-indulge.

“I really do feel at home here. I wasn’t saying no because I’m not comfortable with you. I just really care about what you and Mr. Kennedy think of me. I wouldn’t want you thinking you hired someone irresponsible to watch over your daughter,” you explained. What was left unspoken was that you didn’t want either of them thinking you were trashy in your own right either.

She nodded and stirred the bubbling sauce on the stove. She had to stop herself from saying I know. “That’s good. But you don’t need to worry so much. Both me and my husband think very highly of you,” she said instead.

A rush coursed through you upon hearing that. You smiled and raised your glass again, ingesting some more of the intoxicating liquid.

She watched out of the corner of her eye. It was a struggle to keep quiet and not fawn over how adorable you looked when you got all giddy. She kept her attention on dinner though, adding the noodles when the water reached a boil and spicing the sauce.

There was nothing she needed to say right now. She’d just be quiet and let you nurse that drink. It wasn’t that she needed the alcohol for what she wanted to do tonight. She could probably seduce you right now without much effort if she so desired. But tonight had been well-planned out, and for all the effort she put into it, she was gonna get everything she wanted out of it.

Ada had wanted you since the day they hired you. She could still remember the cute little outfit you wore on that Sunday you showed up for your interview. A nice plaid skirt with a dark sweater up top. Objectively modest but still attractive enough to garner attention. You’d been so polite, sitting with your ankles crossed and perfect posture. She could tell you were fighting off nerves with each answer you gave her and Leon. You were only the second candidate they’d met with, but Ada dismissed any other option before you’d even said your goodbyes.

That craving for you only became more intense over the last month or so. She’d had enough of coming home to you passed out on the couch, all sprawled out and vulnerable but not being able to take advantage. She was sick of only feeling grazes of the silken nature of your skin as she caught you before and after your shift.

That was why she calculated everything for tonight down to the minute. It would go off without a hitch. This wasn’t one of Leon’s missions that stumbled along and almost collapsed at multiple points before barely reaching the correct target. No, she’d thought this through.

By the end of the night, she would have you in the palms of her and Leon’s hands. She’d known this snow storm was coming, and she’d intentionally stayed a little later at work so that she’d be home by the time it was already raging outside and you’d put Christina to bed. She’d have the guest room for you, but you wouldn’t have any of your own belongings, which meant she’d have chances to lure you into her territory. She’d get you all peaceful and pliant by giving you a nice dinner and a fair amount of drinks. Everything would play out just like she intended it to.

She longed to see you at a baser state without any of your usual modesty impeding on your desires. She wanted you all giggling and cute, falling into her arms and spreading your legs without even being asked. You would love it. She just had to show you that.

She hummed to herself at a low volume while finishing up the food. Combining the curled pasta with the creamy sauce, she scooped two helpings onto each plate and made her way over to you with the dishes.

The two of you sat at the island, eating and drinking and talking. The conversation started on Christina but moved around to your personal life and her job among other subjects. She made sure to top off your wine whenever it got close to being empty.

“I know this job must keep you pretty busy, but do you do anything outside of it?” she eventually asked, “Maybe school or some other interests taking up your time?”

“Um… well,” you answered, “I tried out school for a while, and it wasn’t really the best fit for me… I messed around with some other things, and you know how that goes.”

A little laugh slipped from your lips. Your words were definitely more free-flowing than usual.

“Well there’s nothing wrong with taking things day by day,” she replied with a warm smile. She took a sip of her own drink before continuing her point. “You’re still young. You could stumble on something you don’t even know about right now.”

“Exactly!” you responded, all too excited to have someone agree with you, “That’s exactly how I feel. Like you know, this job. I feel like I won the lottery with you guys most days I’m here.”

“That makes me so happy to hear,” she said.

“It’s the truth. Ugh, the kids I babysat in high school were nightmares. And their parents barely paid me anything. I wasn’t even allowed to eat the food at the house. It was horrible. But you guys, you’re perfect I swear. Christina is so sweet and funny and smart. And this house is great. And you and Mr. Kennedy, you two… you’re like dreams,” you rambled.

“Really?” she asked with mild amusement. She set her drink down and leaned forward on her forearms.

The way your eyes widened and your lips parted, you looked like a little fish upon realizing how your last statement sounded. “I just mean you guys are like so great to work for. My favorite job I’ve ever had for sure,” you added.

She reached out, laying her smooth hand on your wrist. “That’s so sweet of you, honey. You’re great to have around too. Much better than our last nanny,” she said, “She always had some complaint about something, and her hours never ended up being consistent. Plus, she wasn’t as cute as you.”

The statement struck you like a bolt of lightning. You were sure your eyes widened to the size of gold medals. Heat oozed up from your chest into your face. This honestly felt like a dream. In reality, you were supposed to think your boss was hot. You were supposed to thirst after them, pine for moments of reciprocation that would never actually happen. But one just did.

“Oh, thank you,” you shrugged, an involuntary smile pulling at your mouth.

A low, knowing laugh echoed from her without her lips ever breaking that calculated smile. Ada’s rich eyes stayed on yours, not letting you get a reprieve from eye contact that lasted longer than a handful of seconds. Her fingertips massaged little circles onto your wrist as you spoke. The light touches felt like the tips of sparklers against your skin. Each one sent tingling warmth up your arm down to your belly.

“Oh come on, don’t look so nervous,” she said, “You must get compliments like that all the time. You’re a very pretty girl.”

Again, you shrugged. “I guess,” you answered. The weight of her attention pressed on you, causing your gaze to lower to your lap.

She didn’t let you get away though. One of her hands ventured up to cup your jaw and pull your face upright. Her fingers lingered there as she stared at you. The curled, the flat backs of her knuckles smoothing across your cheek.

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?” she asked.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. You shook your head no.

She hummed in response. Her fingers continued exploring the expanse of your cheek before dropping to lie on your shoulder.

“That’s good. No need to tie yourself to one person at your age. Though you do deserve someone to take care of you,” she said.

That dull heat in your stomach had long outgrown something so mild. It festered into full arousal by this point, a need hot and pulsating between your thighs. You bit your lip. It was all you could do to keep yourself from squirming in an attempt to grind on the stool.

“I can take care of myself,” you said, though the tone of your voice alone called the truth of that claim into question.

She laughed softly, the sound light and condescending. Her hand glided back and forth along your shoulder in short strokes.

“I’m sure you can, sweet girl. But you shouldn’t have to. You spend all week caring for someone else. You deserve to relax in your free time and have someone take over,” she said.

A visible shiver ran through you. Your teeth dug into the inside of your lip harder as you looked at her now.

“That does sound kind of nice,” you agreed.

She nodded along and brought her hand back to your face. One set of her nails lightly scraped along the frame of it, trailing down after to stroke your jaw. The sensation was enough to make your eyes flutter and send another small burst of desire through you.

“Of course it does,” she said, “You work so hard. You shouldn’t have to go home and cook or do dishes or laundry. You’re probably so tired by the time you get there.”

A hazy sigh puffed out from your mouth. “Yeah sometimes,” you confirmed.

“Mhm. Poor baby,” she cooed, “Someone should be there, letting you rest, doting on you like the precious thing you are.”

Now you felt as though you were glowing. Your breaths came in deep, lifting your chest up and down with each breath. A lazy, blissful smile sat on your features as your dreamy gaze fixated on her. Everything really was starting to feel like a dream. If you weren’t so captivated, you might have tried pinching yourself.

She chuckled at the expression before standing up. Her palms swept down to your shoulders again.

“You look tired, honey. We should probably get you some clothes to sleep in and then send you off to bed,” she said.

“Sounds good to me,” you said and started to rise from the stool yourself.

“Perfect. Just finish this off for me, sweetheart,” she said and lifted your glass to your hand again. It was nearly empty, but it couldn’t hurt having you drink a few drops more.

Denying her didn’t even occur to you in this condition. You brought the drink to your lips and swallowed the remainder while she cleared the counter of other dishes.

In the blink of an eye, she was back at your side. One of her arms slipped around your waist while the other held your shoulder.

“Good girl,” she praised, “Come with me.”

Again, you followed the order without a trace of resistance. You walked alongside her down the path you had come. This time around you leaned into her for support. Your head felt cloudy. A sense of dizziness pervaded every movement you made. She watched with pure satisfaction as she led you to the hall.

“There you go. We’re almost there,” she cooed as if you didn’t know the layout of the house.

You passed the front door and turned into the area that held the doors to one of the bathrooms and the office space. At the end of the small corridor, she opened up the double doors that led into her and Leon’s room. Despite being here five days a week, you rarely ever went in here. You could use one hand to count the number of occasions in which you ever needed to cross this threshold.

The decor was much darker than the rest of the house. Shades of gray morphed into dark black in here. Obsidian drapes framed the window, separated at the moment to let the moon shine through. All the furniture was crafted in deep tones of wood. The rug sprawled across the floor was nearly pitch black, spare the thin red designs sewn throughout.

You took it all in as if it was brand new to you. She paid your curiosity no mind and sat you down on the edge of her bed.

“Stay here for me. I’ll go find you something that fits you,” she said, running her hand over your head as if you were a prized pet.

You obeyed like one, not moving as she stepped away and into the walk in closet in the corner of the room. Your palms spread out on the bedding. The plush comforter tickled your fingers. It had to be one of the softest things you’d ever felt. Much different than the ratty old throw blankets you had on your bed back home.

A sigh seeped from your lips, and you found yourself laying back against the luxurious surface. You spread your arms out as though you were making angel wings in the snow outside. What would it be like to come home to this every night? To work hard all day and then be able to really relax in a place like this? To unwind with each one of your bosses at your side tending to you?

As these thoughts danced through your mind, you felt a hand grasp your thigh. You popped your head up to find Ada before you again, a couple pieces of clothing draped over her arm.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” she teased.

“I wasn’t. Sorry. Your bed is just like really comfy,” you said with a small giggle as you sat up.

“Isn’t it? We just got this one last year. Leon loved our old one, but I just find this one so much easier to sink into,” she agreed.

“Mhm. For sure,” you said, nodding your head up and down with too much enthusiasm for the subject.

That didn’t matter though. Ada didn’t think she could find one thing wrong with you right now if she tried. Beside you, she laid out the few things she’d taken from the closet.

“I wasn’t really sure what type of clothes you liked to sleep in or what you would fit so I brought a few for you to choose from,” she said.

With a gentle hand, she directed your attention to the outfits on the mattress. There were two, and they looked like night and day. Two opposites with no neutral middle.

The one on the left consisted of a small black camisole, one that had to belong to Ada. A pair of silky, navy blue shorts sat with them, another find from her side of the wardrobe. Next to those two was a large gray sweatshirt and some flannel pajama pants, probably her husband’s if you had to guess.

Your eyes lingered on each. It appeared as though you were taking your time to decide, but really you just couldn’t stop trying to picture the clothing on their owners’ bodies. You imagined Ada’s soft curves covered by the thin cloth, her smooth thighs emerging from the shiny fabric of the shorts. Images of Leon flickered in your head too, the sleeves of that shirt rolled up to his elbows and leaving his forearms exposed. The plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips and giving you a nice view of his v-line.

While you stared at your options, she angled herself behind you, lifting one knee onto the bed. Her hands landed upon your shoulders to gently massage.

“Pick whatever you want. It’s totally up to you. You can take one or the other or combine the two. Maybe layer a bit since it’s so cold,” she whispered. She had leaned in right next to your ear. Her lips brushed your skin with every word.

It took everything you had not to whimper for more from her. Under normal circumstances, you would be squirming out of your skin, stuttering and awkwardly trying to justify her affection for you. But right now, you leaned back into it, letting the warmth flow through you.

She smiled and snaked her arms around your body, holding you tight against her. “I’ll have to buy you some clothes to keep here in case this ever happens again. We’ll keep a cute little wardrobe for you in the guest room, so you can stay whenever you like,” she added.

That pulled another giggle out of you along with growing the lazy smile on your face. “I’ll take both of these,” you finally decided and pulled the two tops toward yourself. You messily bundled both pieces into your lap.

“Great. But you still need some pants, sweetheart,” she teased.

“But I don’t like sleeping in pants,” you said and looked up at her with earnest eyes.

She reveled in your thoughtless confession but played it cool. “Are you sure? The bed upstairs has a lot of blankets and the heat should be on, but I wouldn’t want you getting cold,” she offered.

You shook your head. “I’ll be ok, but thank you,” you answered.

Standing up, you swayed on your feet a little. She rose from the bed herself and moved the rejected pairs of pants to the dresser nearby. When she turned to you and caught the wobbly nature of your stance, she moved in like a viper through tall grass and grabbed you by the elbow.

“Why don’t you just change in here? You know that way if you don’t like anything you won’t have to stumble up and down the stairs. Plus you can just leave your clothes here, and I’ll put them in the wash in the morning,” she said, making the offer as if it was based on a genuine desire to help you.

You blinked at her. “Like… change in here? In the bedroom?” you checked.

She nodded, her fingers gliding up your arm. “Mhm. We’re both girls, honey. No need to be shy. I’ll even turn around if you want me to,” she said in a way that somehow soothed you and set your whole body on fire.

You felt like a fireworks show was going off in your stomach. The adrenaline rushing through your veins made you light-headed, and the wine probably didn’t help. You couldn’t think of a reason to say no.

“Alright,” you agreed with a heavy breath.

“Good girl,” she praised with a squeeze to your shoulder.

You felt your clit throb between your legs. At this point, you knew you’d probably have to rub one out as soon as you reached the privacy of the guest room.

Turning around, you dropped the two shirts back on the bed. Without much hesitation, you started to undress. Your shirt was first to go. You tucked your fingers beneath the hem and peeled it off.

Ada’s gaze focused completely on you as she saw the soft skin of your back completely exposed. This was the most important part of the night. If she messed up here, all of it would have been for nothing. She hadn’t planned out every minute movement she would make, but she could think on her feet. This would work.

She headed over near the closet entrance again but didn’t venture inside. She stood right outside in front of the full length mirror, a seemingly reasonable position where she was sure you’d be able to see her if you turned around.

Bending down, she unbuckled her heels and then kicked them to the side. She undid her slacks next and shimmied them off to pool around her ankles.

You heard the rustling of the fabric and the clicks of unfastening. It didn’t register in your mind what they would be coming from until you glanced over your shoulder and spotted her. Your jaw fell open while your eyes bulged from their sockets. You were pretty sure you stopped breathing in the middle of removing your bra.

She stood there as if nothing about this was odd. Her fingers worked on undoing the buttons on her blouse, parting the two sides and revealing a sliver of her skin. Her legs were already out in the open, all for your eyes to see.

In the reflection of the mirror in front of her, she caught your wide-eyed stare. She spun around to face you head on. She unhooked the last button. Her shirt fell open, allowing you to see her flesh from her navel to her collar bone. Underneath the blouse, she still had on a lacy bra and matching panties.

Not missing a beat, she just chuckled and walked closer. “Did you get stuck, honey? Need some help?” she asked.

She approached your frozen form and brought her hands to your shoulders where your bra straps sat. Using her nimble fingers, she guided the thin pieces down your arms. The entire garment fell away and dropped to the floor in front of you.

“There you go. Let mommy help you,” she whispered.

This time you actually couldn’t tell if the words were real or imagined. They’d been so hushed, so faint, but you would swear on anything that you felt them fan over your neck.

She moved to your jeans next, flicking the button open and tugging the zipper loose. The denim crumpled under the force of her hands shoving them down. You stepped out of each pant leg before she kicked them aside along with your bra.

Her hands came to rest on your hips for a moment before gliding up your sides. They smoothed over your curves like streams of warm water. You felt the gentle pressure move from your sides around to your tummy. She was only teasing you right now. Her touches felt good, but they didn’t explore anywhere that would give you true pleasure.

“You have such soft skin,” she cooed.

“Thank you,” you hummed, preening under her touch.

“So tender and pretty. Perfectly smooth,” she whispered.

You were already melting under her hands, but she knew she could go further. She ducked in and kissed your neck. You moaned at the feeling, at her hot mouth latching onto your skin. She laid a few more there after to follow.

“Mmm, so sweet too,” she hummed.

You whimpered and let your head fall back onto her shoulder, leaving more of your neck accessible to her lips. She took advantage. Leaning in, she licked a stripe over your pulse and followed the trail of saliva with a series of kisses. Her teeth scraped across the sensitive flesh.

“A-ada…” you sighed.

“I’m right here, sweet baby,” she purred, “Does that feel good?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered.

“I bet it does. You’re so sensitive, aren’t you? Jumping under every touch. I was like that at your age too,” she teased.

Her hands broke the little patterns they’d been tracing into your stomach to float upward. One by one they each landed on your breasts. Her palms cupped the mounds and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“You have such a gorgeous body,” she said as she nuzzled the space behind your ear, “You’re so shy. So precious. Running around my house like a skittish little puppy.”

No words of protest or denial made their way out of you. It felt good to bask in her attention, to know that she saw you as something so delicate.

“I think I’m starting to understand why though,” she teased.

Her fingers went to your pebbled nipples, pulling and tweaking the sensitive nubs. You mewled and squirmed in her grasp.

“Mommy,” you whined, not caring if she had actually been the one to say it first.

“Mhm. Look at you, already calling me mommy. You were thinking about this, weren’t you baby? You’ve been wanting mommy to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, not being coy about it.

She grinned against your neck before turning you around. Once you could see her, she displayed a much more seductive expression. “Let mommy take care of you then,” she said.

With caring hands, she guided you onto the bed and laid you against a mountain of the pillows near the headboard. She crawled above you, looking down at you like a panther that had just caught its next meal.

“Let me have a taste of those lips. See if they're as soft as the rest of you,” she murmured before lowering herself.

She connected her mouth to yours. Her lips engulfed your own in a kiss, her tongue teasing you. You reciprocated. Your lips parted as you moaned, granting her access. She didn’t waste any time. Her breaths came out heavier as she focused herself entirely on you.

As her mouth worked on you above, her hands continued roaming your body below. She groped your hips and explored your thighs. You gasped softly at the mix of sensations, rolling your hips up against nothing.

“So impatient, baby,” she breathed as she pulled back, “You act like such a good girl all the time, but I bet that leaves you so desperate, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered.

She nodded and moved down to your neck again. Her mouth trailed over the skin with little pecks and soft sucks. The idea of leaving marks tempted her, but that could come later. She didn’t intend on this being her only time with you.

You felt her kisses migrate across your throat to your collarbone and down to the valley between your breasts. Her tongue played there for a moment, drawing out the moments before she would give you your first real taste of relief.

“Mommy, please,” you tried, eyes fluttering.

“So demanding,” she cooed. She moved her mouth to the right though and wrapped her lips around your nipple.

You arched your back off the bed and breathed out a whiny sigh. The tip of her tongue swirled around the bud. She laved at it, applying the perfect amount of pressure to get you squirming. Her hands massaged your waist in the meantime. She would make sure you felt good all over.

Your legs shifted around at the tingling building between your thighs. You craved some friction so badly, but she was still fixated on your chest. Her mouth released your nipple and planted one more kiss on it before she moved to the other and gave it the same treatment.

It got the same pleasured reaction out of you that only increased when one of her hands came up to toy with the sensitive peak that already experienced her mouth. You mewled without shame, digging her heels into the mattress.

She finally let it go as she had the other one, with a wet pop. Her eyes flitted up to you, taking in your breathless expression. After a couple seconds, she started kissing down your belly. She scooted herself down between your legs.

“You’re so needy,” she cooed, “No one’s taken care of you in so long. It’s left you aching.”

Her fingers ghosted over your thin panties, the ribbed fabric nowhere near as luxurious as hers. You watched her eyes follow her hands. The dark irises locked on your center. Her thumb traced the length of your cunt, grazing over your clit down to your leaking entrance. A nice wet patch began forming on the seat of your panties.

“That’s ok though. No one else could take care of you like mommy can. You’d be wasting your time.”

Your eyelids felt heavy as you watched her tug your panties off, drooping with the weight of your lust. You felt the cool air hit the glistening folds between your legs as soon as your lower half was free of the thin covering.

“So wet for me already,” she said, “That’s my good girl. Always so eager to please.”

She didn’t waste time teasing. Why would she? After months of coveting, she finally had you within her grasp, ready for the taking. She gripped your thighs and dove in, flattening her tongue against your soaked core. With a broad stroke, her tongue dragged over the slick flesh.

You mewled in response. A soft gasp accompanied the sound. She spotted your fingers gripping the bedding. So responsive from the simplest of touches. You were going to be fun.

She attacked your clit next. First, she treated it with little flicks of her tongue. Quick and repetitive, it stroked the tiny bud until you let out a pretty whine. She then latched her lips on, sucking on your pulsing bundle of nerves.

All the thoughts in your head melted away. The only thing you could do at this point was babble out a small collection of words including “mommy” and “please more.”

She got into it. All her focus trained on you. This was what she had been dreaming of for a year after all. Ever since she saw you in that little plaid skirt. She’d have to have you wear it again one of these days so she could eat you out under it.

Your thighs squeezed around her head as she lapped at your entrance. It felt good, a more dull kind of bliss than what she’d brought you before, but still good. She didn’t mind the pressure from your legs. Her nails dug into your tender flesh and kept you right in place to continue on with her task.

You trembled and twitched with the ecstasy coursing through you. Your eyes rolled back, your vision going out for a second. It felt as though your head was engulfed by drowsy clouds straight from the heavens. The few people you had been with before never made you feel like this.

Your head had lolled back for a moment in the throes of carnal pleasure. When your vision started to return, you brought it back up to look at her again. Only she didn’t catch your attention this time.

Instead your pupils landed on the shadowy figure at the double doors you had entered through.

You practically jumped out of your skin before you realized who it was. She felt you startle and briefly looked over her shoulder before returning her attention to your pussy. The person stepped forward, allowing moonlight to cast over their figure and show their face.

Leon.

“It sounds like you broke her already,” he said as he approached the bed. Making his way to your pair, he ended up standing beside you. His eyes scanned over your nude body, drinking in every inch of your figure.

“I told you I’d have her nice and warmed up by the time you came home,” she replied, shooting him a smile from the crux of your thighs.

Their words flew over your head. You couldn’t really hear them with how fast your heart was beating. God, how could you have been so stupid? You totally forgot about Leon until this very moment. Apparently, a few drinks was all it took to let your pussy take control. All you had been thinking about for the last half hour was how badly you wanted Ada, how beautiful she looked laying in front of you, devouring you whole. The fact that she was married with a husband completely slipped your mind.

“Mr. Kennedy, I’m so sorry. I- um- We just-” you stammered, incapable of coming up with any sort of defense for your actions.

But he didn’t look mad. He sat down beside your shoulder, gazing down at you with some sort of affection in his eyes.

“I think I’ve told you before that I prefer when you call me Leon, sweetheart,” he told you, petting your head.

Biting your lip, you leaned into the touch. Your eyes looked so sweet gazing up at him as you did. He felt his blood beginning to flow South in response. His hand continued stroking over your scalp before moving to your shoulder, feeling your soft skin beneath his fingers.

“She’s been such a good girl for mommy,” Ada praised from below before rubbing your clit rapidly with her middle and index finger. The quick motion drew a whiny moan from you, only adding to Leon’s arousal.

His eyes flicked between you and his wife. “You didn’t give her too much to drink, did you?” he asked.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “She only had a few. What do you take me for?”

“Well she looks a little out of it. I just thought I’d check. My mistake,” he said, rubbing your cheek with his thumb absentmindedly.

She laughed softly at that. “You know I’m good with my mouth, darling. I don’t need any help getting her to look like that.”

You whimpered as she reattached her mouth to your cunt. Turning your head, you squished your face against his thigh. Your hips bucked. You could feel your release building up, the urge to let go flourishing inside you. Your noises became more high pitched, more needy. He looked down at you with something resembling curiosity with a trace of adoration.

“That feel good, baby? Not too much for you?” he asked.

“N- no, feels- mmph! Feels good,” you choked out between labored breaths. The hand closer to him flew up to grab at his thigh. Your digits dug into the material of his pants as another whine erupted from you.

He swapped his leg for his hand, letting you squeeze his palm as hard as you wanted.

“That’s it. Good girl. Hold daddy’s hand. I’ve got you,” he hummed.

Ada let her hand take over again and brought her head up to watch the two of you.

“Are you close, honey?” she asked.

“Mhm,” you responded instantly.

“Good. I want you to cum for me, ok? Cum for mommy and daddy. We’re gonna get you all nice and wet before you take daddy’s cock,” she said with the sweetest smile on her face in contrast to her dirty words.

You jolted at the prospect. A sharp breath tore through you right before your orgasm did. Your body shook and convulsed, arching and rolling as if you were possessed. Vaguely, you could hear both of their voices. You couldn’t make out the exact words, but the tones were that of praise.

The world around you faded away as you came on her fingers. Your chest puffed up and down with heavy breaths, and your head went limp against Leon’s leg.

Moments later as you began to come down, you felt him shift your weight onto the pillows. His presence receded and more hushed words filled the room. You heard fabric crinkling and a belt hitting the floor.

The mattress dipped as he climbed back on. Your eyes cracked open in time to see him kneeling between your legs. His hands rested on your bent knees, fingers caressing your skin.

Your eyes swept over one of the bodies you’d been imagining in recent months. You could see the few veins that marked his forearms and biceps. He was still muscular despite getting older, but he had begun to fill out a little with some softer flesh. Brown hair dusted the skin from his navel down to a thicker patch of it at the base of his cock.

Meanwhile, Ada landed by your side. You took a breath, and her scent overwhelmed you in place of Leon’s. Her curves pressed up against you. Your head rested against the cushion of her breasts while you could feel the smoothness of her belly against your arm.

She kissed the crown of your head, nestling her nose against your hair. “You ready for daddy, baby? I know he’s ready for you,” she whispered.

You nodded, watching Leon as he gave his cock a few tugs. His eyes remained soft even in the midst of his desire.

While Leon wasn’t the one who’d hatched this plan to get you here, that didn’t mean he was oblivious to your beauty. There was a reason he’d agreed to this in the first place. He’d become just as enamored with you in the same time his wife did. He couldn’t help it. Even though he knew it was such a cliche at his age, he couldn’t stop himself from lusting after the babysitter.

He was only human. It was only natural for his eyes to linger on your waist when you squatted down to say goodbye to his daughter. The flutter in his stomach when you hugged him from the side a few times was just a matter of instinct. It wasn’t his fault the sound of your laughter nearly had him drooling or that the sight of you carrying his child to the car made him weak in the knees.

At least that’s what he told himself. That it was just a harmless crush. Something he’d never act on or get to experience anywhere other than the little scenarios that played in his head while he jerked off in the shower.

But then he found out his wife had an interest in you too. Your name came up during an intimate moment of their own. Between kisses, Ada asked him what he thought of you. He had pulled back, confused by the sudden question (and slightly nervous that he’d have to discuss you while already half-hard).

“Uh… she’s good. Christina likes her. She’s sweet, responsible, hardworking. Little shy, but I’m sure that’s just when we’re around,” he’d shrugged.

“Not like that,” she’d rolled her eyes and leaned back in to kiss his neck, “What do you think of her? She’s young, pretty, looks at you like you hung the stars. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a little babysitter fantasy before, darling.”

At first he’d thought it was a test. He denied it, proclaiming that was wrong. He only had interest in his wife, and you were just trying to do your job. The fact that you were easy on the eyes meant nothing to him. He didn’t care about your sparkling eyes or soft lips or nice curves. He didn’t notice the sweet sound of your voice or any of your cute little mannerisms. Pffft. No way.

“That’s a shame. Because I think she’s beautiful. She’s just so sweet and cute, and she doesn’t even know. The only place she could look any better is lying between us. And you know she’d be so sensitive to every little touch. She’d whimper like a little puppy,” she whispered against his skin.

In that moment, all his guilt had zapped away. He groaned at her words, accepting them without hesitation. There was no jealousy on his end, absolutely no discomfort at the idea of his wife lusting for someone else. Not when that someone else was you.

Because it meant that he got to have you like he did right now, spread out before him all blissed out and pretty. He guided his length to your entrance and dragged the tip over your folds. It glided through your wetness, nudging your clit before falling back down.

“You sure you’re ready, princess?” he asked.

“Mhm. Pretty please,” you affirmed, natural puppy dog eyes on display.

“Look at you. So polite,” he mumbled.

He prodded the head at your entrance, popping it inside. For a few moments, that was all that entered you. He let you adjust to the intrusion and let himself get used to the vise-like clamp of your velvety walls. The few seconds were necessary if he didn’t want to humiliate himself by blowing his load in less than a minute.

After that time though, he began easing it inside of you inch by inch. You whined at the light stretch. Ada stroked your arm with one hand and caressed the swell of your breasts with the other.

“That’s right, honey. You’re taking him so well,” she crooned.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” Leon grunted.

Ada grinned at that before looking at you again. “Are you squeezing daddy nice and tight? Showing him where to go?” she teased.

You moaned and nodded while Leon groaned and shut his eyes. Ada kissed your cheek as her husband bottomed out. Her hand fell to your stomach, rubbing over it. He leaned forward. His palm pressed down next to you on the mattress to keep his balance. He hovered above you, blue eyes looking down with lidded awe.

Pulling his hips back, he rocked them forward again right after. He dragged his pelvis away and then brought it right back, flush against your core. You whimpered with each movement. The satisfying slide sent warmth through you each time.

“Atta girl. Taking it so well, just like mommy said,” he mumbled.

Now he pumped his hips with more dedication. He increased his speed. Exploratory moves became deliberate strokes. Leon settled into a rhythm. He swiveled his hips and angled the way he pistoned them based on the little noises you’d make and the expressions that took over your face. He paid close attention to it all, wanting to learn what you liked, what made you feel good.

Ada continued moving her hands along your form. One moment she played with your nipples, the next she held your hips, after that she pulled your knees up further. It was dizzying trying to keep up.

“Our sweet girl,” she cooed in your ear, “Precious baby. Maybe this should be your new job. You’re good at your other one, but I think we’d like having you all to ourselves.”

Leon groaned again, his head hanging forward. Although the words had been directed at you, they had just as much of an effect on him.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby?” he asked, “Sitting around and looking pretty. Letting us spoil you like you deserve”

“You know she would. Do you even have to ask?” Ada said, “She’d love it. Spending the day kneeling between your legs while you work, using that mouth of hers whenever you want.”

“She could spend some with you too. Sit on your lap and let you play with her with one hand while typing with the other,” he offered in return.

“And then one day, if she’s really good, maybe daddy will breed that cute little pussy and fuck a baby into her,” she whispered.

Leon’s hips snapped against you hard as you turned to eye her. The words broke you out of the spell his cock had you under before.

“What?” you asked.

She chuckled and cupped your jaw, giving you a patronizing kiss.

“What, sweetheart? You’d like that wouldn’t you? It’d make mommy and daddy so happy, you giving us another baby,” she said.

Your head spun at the idea. You blinked and sputtered. In your right, rational mind, you’d put a pause to this. But with a few drinks in you and one orgasm already under your belt, the idea didn’t sound all too bad. It’s not like you were gonna sign a contract or something. They weren’t even asking you to agree to anything right now. But just imagining it…

“You’d look so pretty, babydoll. Your hips all rounded out, all those curves nice and full, that cute stomach swollen with our baby,” Leon sighed.

Imagining it was in fact fun you decided. Your pussy clenched around him again before relaxing. You heard Ada moan softly beside you. Glancing over, you could see her fingers moving beneath her panties, working herself to the edge alongside you.

“You’d love it, honey. You’re made for it. And we’d take such good care of you, make sure you had everything you could want,” he added.

“Mmmm… daddy,” you babbled, unable to voice the full extent of your enthusiasm.

“Uh huh. Daddy’s right here. I’m gonna fill you up. You’re first little taste, yeah? I’ll get you nice and full so you know how it feels,” he moaned.

His bicep flexed as he continued to pound into you. Over and over, he slammed into your cunt. Ada continued moaning beside your ear. Her own noises were growing more desperate. You could feel her hips rocking up to meet her own touch.

“Daddy gonna- gonna- ah- gonna cum,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead, pumpkin,” he grunted, “Cum for daddy. Let me see my pretty girl let go.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You let release wash over you in a smooth wave. Your body writhed and twitched below his. You squirmed atop the blankets, letting your muscles melt into the plush comfort of them.

Next to you, Ada reached the high too. Watching you fall apart was the final straw in her own resolve. She bucked her hips and nuzzled into your throat while crumbling under the bliss of release.

Leon was the last one to join the club. He fucked you through your euphoria while approaching his own. When he finally hit it, a strangled moan burst from him. He fell forward against you, burying his face in the side of your neck not occupied by his wife. His hands gripped your hips and held them in place as he rolled his pelvis against your ass like a dog in heat. He fucked rope after rope of hot cum into you.

By the time he pulled out, you were nice and full just like he said you would be.

You were also undeniably sleepy. Your eyes were all but shut, and your body was curling up as though you were ready for a nap.

He stretched his arm out and pulled you against his side to rest. His other hand rubbed down your body, tenderly coasting over your soft skin.

“Such a good girl for us. You were so good,” he murmured, “Our sweet baby.”

Ada scooted near your back, her hand joining Leon’s in soothing you.

“Don’t keep her all to yourself,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “You had her to yourself hours before I got here,” he dismissed.

She smirked and pecked his lips before looking down at you. Leaning in, she nuzzled your ear. “Sleep now, baby. You need the rest. Daddy will carry you to bed in a little bit,” she whispered.

Like before, you didn’t need any convincing. Your muscles relaxed as they got comfortable and pulled the blankets into place. You let yourself drift off between their two bodies while the storm raged on outside. Your mind slipped into dreamland, letting reality melt away for a little while.

#bonnibuckreblog #im screaming #im drooling #i need them #boaf #its all over the screen #bi panic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #ada wong x reader #ada wong smut #ada wong x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil imagines

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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i’m emo. DONT HMU TN. 💔

CHERRY FLAVORED

childhood friend!leon x reader

wc: 1.6k summary: sweet and sour motivation, wish i could keep concentration. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

no warnings. just alot of angst, mentions of marriage, cheating/infidelity, kissing. based on ‘cherry flavored’ by the neighborhood.

a/n: daddy’s home ;) super happy to be back, missed you guys so much mwaa! so i was actually working on this piece before i decided to take a break and i’m super happy i finally finished. but be warned, this doesn’t make any sense and i strongly encourage you to ignore the grammatical errors and my horrible writing. p.s. i swear the next part of ltts is almost done, just need to fix a few things and proofread (yes, this is for u @lottiies)

he had always liked cherries.

ever since you we’re kids, he would go out of his way just for those silly fruits.

you used to tease him about how much he loved them, but deep down, you enjoyed his enthusiasm too. he claims to remember how cherries were your favorite too, which is why he'd share his stash with you, and you'd pretend to savor each bite, even though they always made your face scrunch up in an exaggerated grimace.

you never really liked cherries. you found them too sticky, too sweet, but you had always made an effort for his sake.

the sticky fingers and cherry pits were all worth it though, just to see that slight, knowing smile on your face when you humored him. those small, secret moments were like little treasures he'd collect in his heart, each one more precious than the last.

he remembered the times when they'd steal a few from the farmer's market, giggling as the juice stained your fingers and lips. now, as adults, the habit remained. sometimes, on late summer mornings like these, he'd swing by your place with a bag of fresh cherries, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"hey," he'd say softly, as you opened the door to greet him, the sunlight catching the wisps of hair escaping your bun.

"thought you might like these. still got a sweet tooth, right?" he'd hand over the bag, watching as your expression transform from a sleepy haze to something short of appreciation.

“leon,” you rub your eyes begrudgingly, stepping aside as to let him in. “it’s like.. six in the morning. you can’t keep doing this,”

“i know, i know,” he chuckled, stepping into the dimly lit foyer, the overpowering scent of the fruit carrying over to you. "sorry, couldn’t help myself," he said with a shrug, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "old habits die hard, you know." he set the bag of cherries down on the entry table, the red fruit seeming to glow in the morning light that filtered through the front window.

“no, seriously.” you deflect, hands on your hips.

“you’re getting married next month, leon.”

he winced at the reminder, his free hand raking through his hair. "i know," he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

his smile faltered slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a small, regretful frown. the cheerfulness draining from his features like water down a drain.

"can't wait." he forced a smile, but you were certain it looked more like grimace. "ada’s been planning everything for months... i’m just along for the ride at this point." he laughs awkwardly, trying to deflect the underlying tension in the air. but he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, the words sticking in his throat like a cherry pit.

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, unable to hold your gaze any longer. he fidgets with the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“okay,” you try to ease the awkwardness. “do you.. wanna go sit on the porch? i can make us coffees,”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he looks up at you, some of the tension dissipating from his frame. "coffee sounds great, thanks,"

he follows you to the kitchen, the silence between you thickening like a dense fog that clung to the trees outside. he’s perched on one of the bar stools, his long legs stretching out before him as he watched you move around the kitchen with practiced ease. the morning light highlighted the subtle lines of fatigue around your eyes, the tiny creases on your forehead, your shoulders hunched slightly in a gesture of quiet contemplation.

you hand him a steaming cup of coffee, the warmth of it seeping into your palms as you slid it across the counter. he took a sip, the flavor both bitter and sweet on his tongue. a small, contented sigh escaped him, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation.

“c’mon,” you tilt your head towards the door, and he’s quick to follow behind.

the morning air is crisp against his skin as he stepped outside, the chill of it seeping into his bones. he followed you to the porch steps, its wooden planks worn smooth with years of use. the world seemed to come alive in the golden glow of dawn, the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the smell of petrichor carried by the wind.

he sat down beside you, the cool wood biting into his thighs as he shifted to get comfortable. you were quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft crunch of cherries as he munched on the fruit. his fingers stained a deep red from the juice, the color matching the rosy hue of your cheeks in the soft morning light.

"i— i know i shouldn't keep doing this, i'm not supposed to still have feelings for you." his words trailed off, lost in the gentle lapping of the breeze against the porch railing.

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "but i do." he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "i always have. and i probably always will,”

“leon,”

"you're still my best friend, you know? my person." he let out a short laugh, the sound a little shaky. “and—“

“leon.” you know what’s about to come next, and you don’t know if you can handle it.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“i…” he lets out a strangled laugh, the bitterness of it written plainly across his features. “i’m sorry, don’t know why i’m like this,” he bowed his head, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands, his long fingers tangling in his hair. “i’m awful.”

“yeah,” you scoff, offering a pitiful smile. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed mirthlessly at your words, the sound raw and broken. “i know." he shook his head, his hair swishing against his wrists.

"never thought i was good for you, ‘ts why i stayed away for so long." he laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. "i thought i could move on, forget about you.” he breathes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own inadequacies.

he turned to you, his eyes, normally a bright, warm blue, were dark and heavy-lidded, the rims a deep shade of red. "please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. "just one kiss. for the sake of what we could've been."

"please?” he repeated, his hands dropping to his knees, fingers curling like he wanted to crawl towards you and envelop you in his arms. your shoulders form something short of a shrug, your mouth dry, unable to respond.

he leaned in, hands coming to cup your cheeks, eyes closed, his lips pressed against yours in a soft, chaste press of mouth to mouth. he lingered for a moment, every fiber of his being silently begging you to reciprocate, praying that you'd meet him half way, that you'd kiss him back.

and for a moment, you really do think of doing so, to kiss back and feel him as more than a friend one last time. but you didn't. your lips were cold and unresponsive under his, your body stiff and unyielding. he taste of cherries and bitter regret that eventually seeps into your very core.

the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips, lingering, yearning. he didn't move away, didn't pull back, just held himself there, suspended in the moment of his foolish hope. after what felt like an eternity, he broke the contact, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

"okay," he whispered, his voice small and defeated. "okay, i get it." he pulled back, sitting up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the ghost of your lips lingering there. "i shouldn't have..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“know what, i think i should go,” he stood up, his movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet with its strings cut.

“you should,” you swallow.

he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. his eyes downcast, feet shifting nervously on the porch steps. "yeah," he mumbles, voice barely audible. "yeah, probably for the best." he picks up his bag and turns to leave, but hesitates, his hand on the railing. he spares you one last glance, his eyes a deep, aching blue. you look down, not being able to bear the weight of his gaze.

he’s out of sight the next time you look back up.

he doesn’t call or text after that, his visits become infrequent, until he they stop completely.

the world didn't slow down for you, nor did it wait for your heart to catch up. everything seemed to keep spinning, the sun rising and setting, the seasons changing, though your feelings remained stagnant. you tell yourself its for the best, that moving on is inevitable. reality is cruel that way — it never delivers on the promises of our fantasies.

eventually, you’ll start to miss him a little less, the hollow ache in your chest slowly starting to dull. life will move on, and so will you.

though the thought of him would still occasionally cross your mind, it no longer feels like a stab to the chest, but a nostalgic memory from a bygone era. something that could’ve been.

maybe you did like cherries after all.

tags: @crowleyco

#bonnibuckreblog #im crying #im emo now #im emotional #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon #re2r leon #leon kennedy x reader #angst no comfort #leon kennedy angst #angst

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bonnibuckets · 5 months ago

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me the whole time 😛😛 OUUUUUU i ate this shit up, i loved all the details rnejehrjeheh

Frosted Brushes

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: an ill-timed snowstorm leaves you snowed in with a less than enthusiastic federal agent.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, bestfriend's older brother!leon, kissing, oral sex, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, p in v, spanking, mild choking

wc: 5.5k

a/n: i know i promised blurred lines pt2 (it's coming) but i just loveee the snowed in trope. also leon's biceps - i love his biceps <3

also on ao3!

Getting snowed in wasn't exactly on your bucket list.

It’d been a mistake, your best friend had said, her voice anxious and apologetic on the phone as she’d tried to make up for the fact that she’d left you stranded here, in the middle of nowhere in a cabin that she had booked. You were only meant to stay here over the week of Christmas and fly back the next, but she’d conveniently forgotten to book tickets for both you and Leon. It’d been too late by then, a vicious snow storm rolling in and ruining all your chances of trying to leave.

You’d stared out the windows for a concerning amount of time, mourning the loss of your upcoming paychecks and not being able to sleep in your own bed. Outside, the snow was packed in tight and you’d been half-tempted to just grab the snow shovel and clear a path for yourself, but the howling wind coupled with the freezing temperature didn’t seem to agree with your plans. The only thing saving you from this woeful situation was the generator that was still up and running.

The federal agent currently lounging on the couch wasn’t helping either. You’d known Leon since you were children, mostly seeing him around the house when you’d come over to play with your best friend. He had kept to himself all those years ago, shooting you fleeting glances and berating you when you’d gotten too loud playing.

Boredom makes your temples throb and the thought of reading through another book makes you feel nauseous, so you settle on approaching Leon, flopping down on the other end with a heavy sigh.

“Hey,” you say, your feet nudging his thigh, “can’t you call up one of your buddies and have ‘em pick us up?”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon sighs, his eyes flitting down to stare irritatedly at your fluffy sock covered feet.

“What good is being a federal agent then?” you drawl, head tipping back over the armrest.

Leon rolls his eyes, shoving your feet away. You grumble, tucking your feet back under you before scooting forward to peer at whatever work on his laptop screen.

“Classified,” Leon says shortly, turning the screen away from you.

“Seriously, Leon?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like I’m going to leak government secrets to a foreign enemy.”

“You might ,” Leon grits out, sending you a glare as you try to twist your body to take another look.

“Maybe I should be flattered that you think me capable of treason.”

Leon snorts, his eyes glancing over towards you again. “You wouldn’t last a day in the field, dork. Most likely end up getting yourself killed, or maybe even blown up.”

You glare at him, shifting again, making sure to dig your feet into his thigh a little harder as you roll over onto your side on the couch. Leon lets out a low hiss, growing irritated with your petulant behavior. He doesn’t shove your feet away like before so you settle on staying in that position, eyes slipping shut. A tiny sprig of hope unfurls inside of you; maybe if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to sleep the entire snowstorm away.

The weather doesn’t seem to let up, the wind howling outside, a chill beginning to creep into the cabin. You huff out an exasperated breath, eyes peeking open to sneak a glance at Leon. He looks engrossed in whatever he’s doing, fingers tapping against the keyboard, his brows drawn together.

Perhaps you’d struck out, getting stuck here with Leon. Sure, the federal agent stuff was mildly interesting, but he was more like a silent, grumpy lump. It sort of helped that he had a nice face, even if just to stare at.

“‘m cold,” you mumble, sock-clad toes trying to worm under his thighs, seeking out his warmth.

“Stop complaining,” Leon grouses, nudging your legs away with his hand.

“You’re so mean,” you shoot back, eyes narrowing. “Is it because you got stuck with a desk job?”

Leon glares at you, his touch growing rougher as he grabs your ankle and throws your leg away from him. A yelp escapes you, body bending awkwardly before you straighten yourself up, curling up away from him.

“I’m a field agent,” Leon hisses, snapping his laptop shut.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, eyes flitting over him. “I don’t see a gun.”

“Yeah and it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it, because I would shoot you if I had the chance.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, arms crossing over your chest as you stand up. “You’re such a piece of sh-”

A loud screeching noise cuts you off, your brows furrowing as you glance towards the direction the sound was coming from. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s happened when the lights in the cabin go out after a moment, the interior lit up by the flickering embers of the hearth.

“Great,” Leon murmurs, standing up and walking towards the large windows, his eyes landing on the generator, “it’s probably frozen.”

You trail after him, a frown pulling at your lips as you stare out at the snowy tundra surrounding you in every direction.

“Is there no way to fix it?” you ask, fingers pressing up against the window.

“Maybe if we got rid of the snow,” Leon sighs, his hand running through his hair, “but the cold would probably just make it freeze up again.”

“Time to get shovelling,” you murmur, peering up at Leon.

Leon’s gaze flicks towards you, his lips thinning. “I’m not going out there.”

“What?” you ask snappily, irritation prickling across your skin, “why not?”

“Because I’ll freeze to death,” he retorts, “didn’t you watch the weather report?”

You stare at him, eye twitching at his refusal. At this rate, both of you would freeze to death if you weren’t able to get the generator up and running. You didn’t particularly trust the insulation either, although there was enough wood stocked in the spare room to maybe get you through the rest of the nights here.

“So what are you suggesting?” you ask, “that I go out and do it?”

“If you’re desperate enough,” he mutters under his breath.

“You’re the man!” you protest. “Shouldn’t you like protect me or something?”

Leon scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at you derisively. “You’re on your own, pipsqueak. Each man for themselves.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snarl, stomping over to the door and yanking a jacket off of its hook. You shrug it on angrily, zipping it up tight before wrapping a scarf around your neck. “You’re pathetic, Leon!”

You grab the snow shovel, moving to open the door, only for it to not budge. There’s a moment of silence and you don’t dare look back at Leon. Setting the snow shovel down, you tug at the door handle, yanking hard.

“Please open,” you whisper, trying to wrench the door open, “please.”

By the time you’re done grumbling and yanking, the door’s only response is a pitiful groan, failing to give way at all, completely and utterly frozen shut.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, glancing at the hinges of the door.

“Frozen in,” Leon drawls, stepping up behind you, “who would’ve thought? You know, you looked pretty pathetic trying to open it up.”

You turn around to face him, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from spewing a slew of curses at him. Your best friend would pay dearly for this debacle. Pushing past Leon, you stride purposefully into the room you were staying in, pulling free the sheets before managing to haul the mattress off of the bed frame.

Leon watches with raised brows as you lug the mattress across the floor. You dump it onto the space just in front of the fireplace, brushing your hair out of your face before disappearing into your room again to gather the sheets and blankets.

“At least you’re resourceful?” Leon offers, following suit as he adds his mattress next to yours soon after.

The absence of heat becomes all the more apparent as the night creeps in, your body shivering and teeth chattering every now and then despite the layers you’re wearing. You and Leon settle on soup for dinner, placing the cans near the fireplace to heat them up.

“Maybe we’ll just freeze to death,” you sigh, tugging the blanket draped around your shoulders a little tighter.

Leon hums, glancing over at you. “Maybe.”

You roll your eyes at his short response, padding through the cabin and into the dark bathroom. No generator meant no lights and you weren’t willing to risk using your phone or the flashlights lest the battery ran out.

“Ouch,” you grumble when your hip hits the side of the sink, your eyes squinting in an attempt to adjust to the dark.

You’re too busy rubbing your hip to notice the dark shadow stepping into the bathroom. There’s an arm landing on your waist and you shriek, hand flying out to smack whoever it is.

“Careful,” Leon groans when he feels you grab at his face, feeling around blindly.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, pushing at his chest.

“Keeping you company,” he shoots back, “not like there’s anything for me to do other than stare at the fire.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” you say, managing to turn the tap on. The water is entirely too cold, but thankfully not yet frozen. You hunch over, splashing some onto your face.

“Funny,” Leon replies drily, his hand slipping lower to hold your hip as you bend over.

Your breath hitches at the action and you hope Leon doesn’t notice, especially with the way you tremble when his hand smooths over your waist absentmindedly. Leon’s touching doesn’t seem to let up and you turn around in his arms, fingers prodding into his chest.

“Stop touching me, you creep.”

Leon lets out a heavy sigh, his hands falling away from you. You manage to bundle out of the bathroom, finding his eyes in the dim lighting. He stares down at you, and you tilt your head in question.

“Nothing,” he huffs out, shoving your face away with his hand.

You grumble, swatting his hand away, padding over to your makeshift bed near the fireplace. Despite the warmth of the fire, you still shiver, and snuggling in under the heap of blankets.

Leon’s footfalls are quiet as he makes his way over, settling down on his own mattress. Silence passes over you both until a sneeze tickles at your nose, making your eyes water.

“Are you still cold?” Leon asks quietly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you mumble back, curling up your toes in your socks, trying to bury yourself deeper under the blankets.

You miss the way Leon rolls his eyes, a squeak leaving you when you feel strong arms looping around your waist, tugging you across onto Leon’s mattress. His chest is warm against your back, the layers of blankets growing with the two of you now pressed together.

“Let- let go of me,” you grouse, trying to unlatch his arms from around you.

“No can do, pipsqueak,” he replies, keeping you close, “my sister will kill me if anything happens to you. Besides, I know you gotta little thing for me.”

“I do not have a thing for you,” you scoff, your denial sharp. You squirm in his arms, managing to roll onto your other side to face him. “That would be gross, Leon.”

“Yeah?” Leon murmurs, his eyes drifting across your face, “you didn’t think it was gross when you told my sister you’d like to sit on my face.”

You sputter, embarrassment making your cheeks go hot. Suddenly, the chill of the snowstorm seems to fade, replaced by a heat that seems unbearable, Leon’s skin warm against yours.

“I- I did not say that!” you protest, trying to squirm out of his arms again but to no avail.

“I overheard you,” he sighs, rolling his eyes when you try to swat at his face.

“Well, fine,” you admit begrudgingly, stopping your struggling. “But you aren’t special . I could name five other guys off the top of my head that I’d enjoy.”

“Ouch,” Leon replies, his eyes boring into yours. “‘m wounded, pipsqueak.”

You send him a glare before snuggling closer, your face shoving into his chest. Leon lets out a rough laugh, his grip on you loosening. Silence passes over you and the warmth settles down to something more cozy, making your eyes droop shut.

“Could be fun.”

“What?” you mumble sleepily.

“Could be fun if you sat on my face.”

You peek up at him, taken aback. “Have you lost your mind, Leon?”

His lips purse as he considers your words, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Gotta kill the time somehow,” he yawns.

“‘m not sleeping with you, jerk,” you reply, trying to ignore the fact that Leon, grumpy federal agent Leon , was offering to eat you out.

He sighs, muttering something incoherent that you can barely pick up on. It doesn’t help that Leon’s managed to ruin your sleep, the image of Leon’s head between your thighs popping into your mind. Could be fun .

Leon’s already staring at you when you look back up at him, his brows raising when you play with the strings of his hoodie, twirling and twisting them.

“Do you want to?” you ask.

He considers your words, running his hand through his hair. “I could use the practice. It’s been a while.”

“I’m not a training dummy, Leon,” you retort, but Leon’s already moving, the blankets around you shifting as he pulls them off, grabbing at your sock and pajama pants. “You said it could be fun .”

“Practice can be fun,” he replies drily, pulling your pajama pants off.

You shiver when the cold hits your skin, goosebumps erupting all over immediately. Leon’s hands are warm when he slides them over your legs, his head lowering to take a look at your panties.

“Cute,” Leon murmurs, finger pulling at the band before letting the fabric snap back against your skin.

“H- hey!” you stop him when he tries to pull them off, eyes narrowing. “You should build up to it, not just go right in.”

Leon rolls his eyes and you huff out an annoyed breath, feet pressing up against his chest.

“C’mon, Leon,” you say, voice morphing into a taunt, “work for it.”

“You always like this?” he shoots back, glaring down at you.

You give him a snarky smile, nudging your feet against his chest again. Leon shakes his head, grabbing one of your feet. You watch as he dips his head, his lips landing on your ankle. Leon’s lips are surprisingly gentle, his eyes flitting to yours as he trails his lips up your leg, leaving hot kisses in his wake.

A soft sigh escapes you, the tenseness fading as you relax, letting your eyes slide shut as he squeezes your thighs and kisses the side of your knee.

“Good?” he asks, his voice low.

“Mhm,” you nod, hips reacting to his ministrations as he spreads you apart.

Leon’s breath is hot against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick teasingly as he covers your inner thighs with kisses. You peer down at him, reaching out to place your hand in his hair, back arching slightly when he noses into your panties.

You bite your lip when he licks over your panties, feeling wetness beginning to gather between your thighs. His eyes flutter shut when your nails scratch at his scalp lightly, lapping at your clothed pussy until the fabric is wet with his spit and your slick, clinging to your folds.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, “thought this was just practice?”

He huffs out a breath and you smile, letting him lap at your clothed cunt until he’s satisfied. Leon kisses your hip when he rises up, fingers trailing across your thighs before drifting over your panties again, rubbing the drenched material absentmindedly.

“‘s nice,” he murmurs, reaching up to tug your panties flush against your pussy, his eyes latched onto the way it outlines your puffy folds. Leon’s fingers reach down, rubbing over your cunt, pressing your panties against you harder. He watches the way you bite back the noises that threaten to escape, his lips turning into a frown. “Don’t do that.”

You shake your head stubbornly and he glares at you, tugging your lip out from the confines of your teeth.

“Guess I’ll just have to wear you out, hm?”

Leon’s fingers are greedy as he pulls your panties free, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder.

“Kiss first,” you say quietly when he thumbs apart your sticky folds, “then lick.”

“I know how to do this,” he grunts, gripping your thighs harder to pull you closer to him.

“Well then show me- oh fuck -”

Your breath hitches when he kisses your clit, the bud swollen and aching from before when he’d licked over your panties and prodded his tongue against you. Leon grins against your cunt, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe over your wet pussy, delving deep between your folds to drink down your slick.

“Taste good, pipsqueak,” he rasps, licking over your cunt, lapping over and over again until your thighs twitch and your hand tightens in his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

“Don’t- ngh- don’t call me that! ”

“What should I call you then?” Leon asks, pulling back to spit on your cunt, his fingers spreading over your clit and pussy, rubbing it in, his thumb drawing tight circles against your clit. “Hm? Baby, is that what you want? Maybe sweetheart? Darlin’, gorgeous, my good girl? All of ‘em?”

You can only manage out a moan, hips rolling up to meet his mouth as the pet-names ring in your mind, a haze of lust fogging over your mind. Leon lets out a hoarse laugh, prodding a finger against your fluttering hole, easing it in.

A whimper leaves you, cunt clenching around it as he nips at your thigh, tilting his head to suck your clit into his mouth. You shudder as he suckles, tongue flicking against the throbbing bud, teeth grazing across gently. He presses another finger into your cunt, a deep groan leaving him as you clench around his fingers harder, hips jumping when he sucks at your clit with renewed fervor.

“Such a whiny baby,” Leon muses when he hears the little whimpers and whines that leave you, his hand clamping over your hip to keep you in place as you squirm. “Don’t worry sweetheart, ‘m gonna take care of you.”

You mewl, hips rolling again needily as he buries his face into your cunt, slurping and sucking noisily. It makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment, despite the fact no one can hear you for miles.

“Thought- ah- thought you were gonna let me sit on your face,” you mumble out, body shuddering when Leon curls his fingers, beginning to thrust them in and out of you.

“Is that what you want?”

You peer down at him before managing out a nod. Leon hums, taking a measured suck of your clit and pressing a kiss to it. He pats your hip, shifting to lay on his back in response. It’s nice of him, you think, when he offers you his hand, pulling you closer as you swing your leg over his face as you peer down at him.

“Sit on my face, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You flush lightly, reaching out to brush the hair that’s fallen across his forehead, running your fingers through the soft strands. Leon’s eyes slip shut and you smile, trailing your fingers over the curve of his cheek before shuffling forward, lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth.

“Oh,” you breathe out, hands landing on the sheets above his head, gripping them tightly.

Leon groans, hands grasping at your thighs, squeezing the fat of them as he urges you to rock your hips across his mouth. It’s almost too much, the swirl of his tongue, the intensity of his gaze as he looks up at you.

“I like it when you shut up,” you murmur, giving him a smile as you drag your cunt over the length of his tongue. “So much more tolerable this way, Leon.”

Leon lets out an indignant sound and you yelp, jolting when his hand comes down on your ass, your flesh stinging. What an asshole. You glare down at him, gripping his hair harder, pulling at the strands, enough to make it hurt .

He grunts, eyes squeezing shut in pain before he grasps your hips, pulling you down flush against his mouth. Your mouth opens, a strangled moan sounding as you feel his tongue pressing into your cunt.

“N- ngh- no,” you begin to say but Leon ignores you, fucking into your cunt with your tongue.

You can hardly see straight, back arching, eyes squeezing shut.

“Brat,” Leon snarls, slapping your ass again, “so fucking bratty, sweetheart.”

“‘m not,” you whine, squirming atop his mouth, moaning again when he sucks his clit into your mouth, tongue flicking and swirling until you’re seeing stars. “‘m not , Leon.”

“You are,” he snaps lowly, “bratty and annoying and a fucking pain the ass.” He licks over your cunt again and again. Your thighs twitch, chest heaving as you suck in short, sharp breaths, hunching over when his teeth nip at your folds carefully.

It’s the worst, or perhaps the best because it has the bridge of his nose pressing up against your clit in a way that you’ve never felt before. You rock your hips, gasping, tears pricking at your eyes when he lands another heavy slap to your ass.

“Cum, baby,” Leon hisses, his voice a low rasp, “cum on my fucking mouth. Can you do that, hm? Be a good girl for once and cum .”

You shudder, a sharp cry tearing its way out of your throat as you cum, twitching violently. There’s sweat covering your body, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Leon laps at your slick, drinking it down like a man starved. He squeezes your thighs and you tremble, managing to squirm off of him, slumping down over the blankets, panting as your cunt throbs.

Silence passes over the cabin, save for the soothing crackle of the fire. Leon clears his throat, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “you- uh, you good?”

“Shut up, Leon,” you grouse, still reeling from the fact that Leon had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I didn’t mean it,” he offers quietly, calloused palm rubbing up and down your side, over the dip of your waist and curve of your hip. “Well, not all of it.”

You shift, turning to face him. Leon’s hair looks like a mess and you figure you don’t look that much better, given all the squirming and writhing you were doing earlier.

“Yeah?” you murmur, “well, I mean it when I say you’re a dick.”

“Fine,” Leon muses, a smile pulling at his lips, “I’ll let you h-”

His words are cut off when you shuffle closer, grabbing his hoodie. Your nose brushes against his gently, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his tentatively. Leon sighs into your mouth, his hand squeezing at your ass, his lips working against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a soft noise when he licks into your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He can’t help himself as he grabs at you, his hands sliding up under your thick sweater to grasp at your tits. You whimper when he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before tugging gently.

“Gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?” Leon whispers against your lips.

You nod, kissing him again, pulling at his hoodie. He sits up, tugging it up over his head before reaching for you, pulling your sweater off of you. Leon swallows when he sees your breasts, his hands reaching for them greedily.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, hands cupping the back of his head as Leon nuzzles into your breasts, mouthing at the sides of them, landing soft kisses across your sternum and up your throat before finding your lips again.

Your hands are just as greedy as his mouth, reaching down to palm him through his sweats, the bulge looking inviting. Leon moans into your mouth and you smile, pecking his lips as you dip your hand inside, curling your hand around his cock.

It’s thick and heavy when Leon pulls down his sweatpants, his cock bobbing. You lick your hips, straddling his thigh, stroking his cock slowly. Leon’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head tipped back as his hips buck up into your hand.

“‘s big, Leon,” you murmur, watching with rapt attention as thick globs of pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock.

“Y- yeah?” he whimpers, thighs twitching, “‘s all yours, sweetheart.”

You hum happily, meeting his eyes before opening your mouth, letting spit drop down from your tongue onto his cock. Leon groans brokenly, watching as you jerk him off, cum and spit mixing together.

“Enough,” he grunts when you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock.

You pout, shuffling back, enough to get your mouth around the head of his cock. Leon’s grumbling when your tongue swirls around his cock, his hand fisting into your hair to pull you off roughly.

“I said enough ,” Leon murmurs, moving you until you're on your hands and knees.

“Thought you said your cock was mine ,” you drawl, wiggling your hips, ass up in the air for him. “You’re being- oh -”

A dazed sigh leaves you when you feel Leon’s mouth on you again, his thumbs spreading you apart greedily, tongue licking over your cunt. You turn your head, hazy eyes finding Leon’s hand wrapped around his cock, his grip tight as he strokes himself.

“Want your cock in me,” you mumble, drooling into the pillows when he kisses your clit.

“Greedy,” he says, rubbing his cock against your cunt for a few seconds before he presses his cock in.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, hips shifting away. Leon clicks his tongue, pulling your hips back, forcing you to take his cock. It’s girthy and thick, a mewl leaving you as you feel his cock stretch you out.

“That’s it,” Leon whispers, hand smoothing over the length of your back, “take my cock, sweetheart.”

You babble incoherently, leaning back into him when he drapes himself over your back, his lips on your shoulder. Leon draws his hips back before thrusting them forward, making you moan. He smiles against your skin, kissing the back of your neck before straightening out.

“Look at that,” Leon murmurs, letting out a low whistle as he spreads your wider, his fingers stroking the edges of your stretched out pussy. “Greedy cunt’s just swallowing up my cock, baby.”

“More,” you whine, starting to rock your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Leon groans, feeling your ass smack back against his hips. He grips you harder, fingers bruising against your hips, pushing down on your back to make you arch. The action has you squeaking when you lose your balance, toppling forward, cheek squishing into the pillows.

The clap of his hips against yours is embarrassing, the cold around you forgotten in the dim cabin, the thickness of his cock replacing any worries you had.

“So fucking good,” Leon snarls, tugging you up again. “Perfect fucking pussy, baby.”

You cry out when he fucks up into you, his chest flush against your back, his arm winding around your neck. Leon squeezes and you slur out a moan, head turning to sink your teeth into his bicep.

He hisses at the flare of pain, squeezing harder. Your body jolts with every thrust, eyes rolling back in delirium at how good the feel of his cock is combined with the squeeze of his arm around your neck.

“Leon!” you whimper, tipping your head back, kissing his jaw sloppily.

“‘m right here, sweetheart,” he groans, mouth slotting over yours messily.

It’s all spit and sloppy kisses, both of your bodies trembling as Leon pounds into you without abandon. The squeeze of his bicep has your vision blurring, nails digging into his thigh. Your cunt clenches and Leon whines, pressing you back down to fuck his cock into you, hand coming down on your ass hard .

“Gonna make me cum,” he rasps, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud.

“Please,” you mewl, hugging the pillow to your chest, “please, Leon- wanna cum, wanna cum please .”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chants breathlessly, kissing your cheek, “wait, where- fuck, baby- where do you want it?”

“In- nghhh- in me,” you beg, hooking your foot awkwardly around his leg, trying to keep him from pulling out. “Cum inside , Leon. Want your cum.”

“Shit,” Leon groans, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his hips humping into your cunt as he loses himself in the tight clench of your pussy. “Sweetheart, you gotta let go.”

“N- nooo,” you whine, shaking your head, wiggling your hips back so his cock presses into you deeper.

He moans, the sound deep and guttural and it has you moaning too, cunt clenching around him like a vice.

“Pussy’s not letting me go,” Leon snarls, cock driving into you deeper as he slows his thrusts, opting to roll his hips instead. “Fine, ‘m gonna give you my cum, sweetheart. Gonna fill this greedy, little pussy up.”

You slur out a response, face shoved into the pillow, writhing as Leon rubs your clit a few more times. He curses when you squeeze around him again, slumping over you as his cock twitches, hot cum spilling into you. You bite your lip, dazed and sated as you cum with him, pussy fluttering around his cock.

Leon kisses your neck, panting as he lets his forehead rest against your back. His softening cock slips out of you and Leon turns you on your back, dipping his head to kiss you deeply. You wrap your arm around his neck loosely, sighing contentedly as he massages your hips and thighs.

“I’ll be back,” he whispers against your lips.

You nod, laying there limp. Leon returns with a dry cloth, his lips lingering on your stomach and hip as he cleans you up.

He tugs you into his chest after, kissing your cheek and letting you burrow into his warmth. Your fingers slide through his hair, playing with the soft strands absentmindedly as he smooths his hand over your side, dropping a kiss to your head every now and then.

“So was that good for practice?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Leon huffs out a laugh, his hand squeezing at your waist. “Yeah,” he says, thumb stroking over the curve of your hip, “real good, baby.”

You hum happily, smiling when he tilts his head, kissing you again.

“Does this mean I can see your work?”

“No,” he replies drily, smiling against your cheek. “Still classified, sweetheart.”

“Well, what can I do to un -classify it?”

Leon grins. “I can think of a few things.”

“Bring me any souvenirs?” you call out, leaning against the side of your car.

Leon rolls his eyes, dumping his duffle bag onto the ground, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You laugh, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, humming in amusement when he grumbles.

“You’re meant to say you missed me.”

You did miss Leon. After the snowstorm had receded, you’d still been unable to keep your hands off one another, even when you’d returned home. He’d been called on some mission some months later, and now here you were, picking him up.

“Just a smidge,” you murmur, biting your lip when he noses into your cheek, pressing soft kisses across your skin.

You turn your head, cupping his cheeks to pull him closer, kissing him deeply. Leon smiles against your lips, holding you tighter, arms squeezing around you. “Maybe a lot,” you whisper, landing another kiss to his lips.

“I missed you too,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Leon’s lips drift, dragging down over the side of your cheek and to your jaw. He presses you against the cool metal of your car, one of his hands drifting under your skirt.

“Know that pretty pussy missed me too,” he murmurs, “‘s why you sent me all those videos, right?”

“Shut up, Leon.”

“Oh c’mon,” Leon drawls, pulling you back into his chest when you try opening the door to your car, “I liked ‘em, sweetheart.”

He kisses your neck heatedly, a soft whine making its way out of your throat when he squeezes the fat of your ass and pats it affectionately.

“We should go home,” you whisper breathily.

“Yeah,” Leon murmurs, his hand forward to cup your pussy, stroking it through your panties. “Car’s right here though.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse when Leon speaks again.

“Could be fun.”

#bonnibuckreblog #leon kennedy smut #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #legs open #this was too good not to share

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