#pulling that out of leon would not at all be good...

[leons--gf]

Leon Kennedy x the president's son (3/3)(final part)

TOP!LEON KENNEDY X M!READER

Word count:4.004k

Tags:leon kennedy x male reader,secret relationship,forbidden romance,bodyguard au,slow burn turns spicy,canon divergence (kinda?)NSFW,mutual pining but also mutual horniness,Leon is so in love it hurts,reader is bold and flirty and we love that,protective leon,emotional comfort,anal fingering,cumplay if you squint,they’re literally in love.

Summary:Three months later, a bioterrorist attack happens at the White House, you and Leon run away together and stay at a hotel far away, things heat up and he uses his fingers on you.

A/N: FINAL PART FINALLY. I really didn't like writing 3 chapters because I'm terrible at anything other than a one shot.Again, if the translation is a bit lame it's not my fault, blame the Gpt chat for making me believe that this would be a "100% faithful translation to American English"

Anyway, enjoy reading, and see you in the next chapter (a new story, still with Leon obviously)

Your POV:

It’s been three months since Leon and I first had sex.

Well… if oral counts, then it’s been four.

Anyway—

It’s been three months since we first lost ourselves in each other.

And ever since then, it hasn’t stopped.

It’s like, after that first time, we couldn’t help ourselves.

Once turned into twice… then four… then so many I’ve lost count.

Even with Leon hesitating almost every time—

He always looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And I get it. It’s risky, especially for him.

If my dad ever found out, the worst that could happen to me is a few weeks grounded, maybe no more using his card to buy the useless stuff I like.

But Leon?

He’d lose everything.

His position as my bodyguard, the president’s trust, his entire reputation.

And honestly, that wouldn’t even be the worst part.

The worst part would be how he would feel.

Because Leon takes this seriously. He wants to protect me.

But even with all that...

It never stopped us.

There were so many times.

In his room, in mine, in the back of the presidential car after class…

Even in the White House’s meeting room—

with the portraits of old presidents staring us down like we were committing a crime.

We knew it was “wrong,”

but nothing ever felt more right than being in his arms.

He always made me feel so good. So wanted.

He kissed me like he was starving—like he wanted to devour me.

And every time we came undone,

he’d pull me close, face buried in my neck, breathless…

kissing me softly over and over, like it was his way of saying sorry.

Or maybe… a promise to do it again.

The only person who knows about this—besides Leon and me—is Alice.

My best friend, confidant, and honestly, the biggest accomplice to this forbidden little romance.

I tell her everything. Everything.

From the very first time to the bolder ones—

like that time Leon threw me onto the couch in the presidential library,

half-panicked someone might walk in at any second.

Alice always reacts the same way:

some mix of “you’re insane” and “I’m obsessed, tell me more.”

She supports me. Never judged. Never even raised an eyebrow.

I think, deep down, she ships us harder than I do.

Take today, for example.

We met up real quick during break on campus.

Leon, as always, was waiting outside—

sunglasses on, looking like the definition of “I bite but don’t kiss.”

But I knew better.

I knew the man behind the uniform.

I knew how he blushed when I told him he was handsome.

I knew the little sound he made when I bit his shoulder.

I knew how he trembled whenever I ran my hand along the back of his neck.

Seeing him there, all serious and protective…

just made me even more excited for later.

I turned to Alice with a sly little smile and said under my breath:

“After class, I think I’ll ask him to grab something to eat with me downtown…”

I paused, just long enough for effect, then added with a smirk,

“...and maybe I’ll see if he wants to have me for dessert.”

Alice’s eyes went wide as she let out this half-scream laugh.

“Oh my God, you’re terrible!” she whispered through giggles.

“But listen… if he says yes, you better tell me everything.”

“I promise. If we hook up again, you’ll be the first to know.”

We laughed for another minute before the bell rang.

We hugged tight and gave each other that knowing look—

Then I headed to class, pretending to listen to the lecture,

while my brain could only focus on one thing:

The look on Leon’s face when I ask him out for that “snack” later...

I was almost asleep on my desk. Political theory class felt like it would never end, and the professor sounded like he’d popped a tranquilizer before walking in.

Alice nudged me with her elbow and whispered a joke that nearly made me laugh, but I didn’t even get the chance to reply.

That’s when the classroom door slammed open with a loud bang.

Everyone turned, startled.

And there he was.

Leon.

Wearing that serious look I’d only seen a few times before—one of them being when he pulled me behind him to shield me the moment Sadler found us back in Spain.

His eyes scanned the room until they locked onto mine. Then, in a firm, commanding voice that sliced through the silence, he said:

"He's leaving early."

Those piercing blue eyes never left me.

"And if I were any of you, I’d go home. Now."

No one questioned it. His tone left no room for doubt.

My heart was already racing before I could even process why.

Leon marched across the classroom and grabbed my wrist—firm, but not rough. Urgent.

I stumbled up from my seat.

"What’s going on?" I asked as he led me into the hallway. "Leon... is it my dad?"

He didn’t answer right away.

His grip was steady and his pace relentless, dragging me through the halls like every second mattered. Students stared. Some whispered. He didn’t care. His eyes were locked straight ahead.

"Leon!" I tried again, nearly jogging to keep up.

He finally paused for just a second. Long enough to look into my eyes.

There was something there. Fear? Anger? No... it was something else.

Controlled panic.

"You’re in danger," he said, voice low but serious. "And I can’t explain right now. Just—follow me. Please."

That was all I needed.

Because the moment I heard that tone—the same tone he used the night he promised to protect me—I shut my mouth and trusted him.

I got in the car with him, chest tight, heart racing, mind spiraling with questions.

Something was seriously, seriously wrong.

And this time...

I had the feeling it was just the beginning.

The car sped down the road, too fast.

Leon barely blinked, his eyes locked on the highway, his fingers clenched tight around the steering wheel.

The silence only made things worse. I needed answers. I needed to know why my heart wouldn’t stop pounding—and why he looked even more tense than usual.

I looked ahead, trying to distract myself with something—anything.

Out of instinct, I reached over and turned on the radio.

"...confirmed attack on the White House..." "...authorities have no strategy in place to contain the outbreak..." "...witnesses report seeing disfigured, violent corpses..."

My eyes widened. My throat went dry.

My fingers began to tremble.

I tried to hide it, but it was impossible.

My hands were stiff in my lap, shaking, cold from fear, as something twisted tighter and tighter inside my chest.

Without saying a word, Leon reached over and placed his hand over mine.

Warm skin against cold.

"It’s going to be alright," he said, voice low but steady.

His eyes never left the road.

"I promise."

I swallowed hard, trying to believe him.

Because no matter how fast the world outside was falling apart…

I was still with him.

And right now, that was the only thing keeping me from breaking.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, swallowed by trees on both sides.

The city had long disappeared in the rearview mirror. The sky was starting to dim, stained with orange and gray.

The radio still murmured distant news updates, so Leon turned the volume down and put on a soft instrumental track—something calm, something that filled the silence without making it worse.

My shoulders finally started to relax, even if the fear was still pulsing somewhere deep inside.

It was impossible not to feel it after everything I’d heard… and everything that was still to come.

But Leon being there, right next to me, made it all bearable.

Every now and then, he’d reach over and rest his hand on my thigh, giving it a soft squeeze—like he was reminding me he was still there.

At one point, a strand of hair fell over my face, and without saying a word, he gently tucked it behind my ear, so carefully it almost made me forget about the chaos outside.

I let out a soft sigh, glancing sideways at him—his eyes locked on the road.

“So… where exactly are we going?” I asked, trying to sound calm, even though my voice still came out a bit shaky.

Leon took a second to respond.

When he finally did, his voice was low and intense.

“As far as we can.”

His gaze never left the road.

“Out of the city, out of the state… and if I have to, even out of the country.”

I fell silent.

My chest tightened again—but it wasn’t just fear.

It was the weight of how much everything had changed.

And the realization of how far he was willing to go… for me.

Then he added, his voice softer this time:

“But you don’t have to worry. I’ll be with you.”

I turned my face toward the window, biting my lip to hold back a dumb little smile.

Because even with the world falling apart… I felt safe.

Because he was with me.

—

As soon as we walked into the hotel lobby, Leon headed straight to the front desk.

I stayed close behind, keeping quiet as I looked around.

The place seemed simple, clean—and most importantly, discreet.

The receptionist gave Leon a warm smile as he approached.

She was young, with her hair pulled back and a bold red lipstick that made her look both elegant and a little playful.

She typed something into the computer, then asked with a light tone, almost teasing:

“One bed… or two?”

The way her eyes briefly flicked between the two of us said everything.

That little half-smile, the slightly raised brow.

She thought we were a couple.

And maybe… she wasn’t entirely wrong.

Leon cleared his throat, clearly thrown off.

He opened his mouth, then shut it, before replying quickly—trying to sound casual:

“Two… please.”

---

I kept pretending to be distracted, eyes on my phone, trying not to laugh.

I could practically feel the heat rising to his face.

Once the receptionist handed us the keys and wished us a good night, we walked together to the elevator.

We stepped inside, and the silence between us lasted only until the doors closed.

I leaned against the corner, arms crossed, a smug little smirk playing on my lips.

“Two beds, huh? Even after you've fucked me more times than I can count?”

Leon turned to look at me slowly, his expression a mix of tired and troubled—like he already knew I wasn’t gonna let it slide.

“We can’t draw attention, (Y/N),” he murmured. “If anyone suspects anything… it could get bad. For both of us.”

I sighed and let my head rest lightly against the elevator wall, but the smile didn’t fade.

“I know... I’m just messing with you.”

He looked at me for another second, then glanced away, trying not to smile.

Even while we were on the run, even in the middle of all this chaos, I could still tease him—and that gave me a little piece of normal.

---

The room was simple, but cozy.

A queen-sized bed on the left, a twin tucked against the opposite wall.

A desk, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a bathroom in the back, the door slightly ajar.

It wasn’t much, but it was what we had.

A makeshift hideout.

Leon shut the door behind us and leaned against it, finally letting out a long sigh.

I sat on the edge of the queen bed, watching him.

Only then did the silence start to feel heavy.

“We’ll need to stay here... for a while,” he began, arms crossed. “Until further notice, the plan is to keep away from the city. If possible, leave the state. Everything depends on how things unfold in the next few hours.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath.

Only now did the exhaustion hit.

The fear was still there, but with Leon by my side, it felt less suffocating.

I trusted him with my life.

Literally.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” I said, standing up slowly.

Leon raised an eyebrow, that cocky little smirk already starting to grow on his lips.

“Need a hand?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

I rolled my eyes but smiled.

“No, but thanks for the offer,” I shot back with just as much sass, chuckling softly as I closed the bathroom door behind me.

I turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up.

The mirror slowly began to fog, but before it fully blurred, I caught a glimpse of myself.

The reflection showed a tired face, with light bags under my eyes and a hint of redness in them.

I ran a hand through my hair—and that’s when I saw it: a hickey.

Still visible, near my shoulder.

Just below the collarbone, left side.

Leon.

I let out a soft laugh and gently touched the spot with my fingertips.

It didn’t even feel like we were running from a biological collapse.

My chest warmed at the memory of the last time he marked me like that—breathless, whispering against my ear, his fingers digging into my waist like he was afraid I’d slip away from him.

I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower.

The hot water spilled over my shoulders like pure relief.

I closed my eyes and let it wash down my back, trying to relax every muscle in my body.

But my mind wouldn’t stop.

His hands.

The way he pulled me close...

And now, that same hand had dragged me out of class like I was the most important thing in the world.

I smiled to myself, still under the water.

Even in the middle of all this chaos, he was all I could think about.

I stepped out of the shower with warm skin, steam still lingering behind me. I dried off slowly, savoring that rare moment of peace. But when I went to look for clean clothes… nothing. Not a single piece. Of course I hadn’t packed anything—we ran out in a hurry.

I sighed and looked over at the bathrobe folded neatly by the sink. White, soft, with the hotel’s logo stitched into the corner. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. I slipped it on, tied the sash around my waist, and opened the door quietly, feeling the cool air from the room hit my freshly showered skin.

I walked out calmly, the robe slightly open at the chest, leaving some damp skin exposed. Leon was sitting on the edge of the bed, but when he saw me, his eyes scanned me slowly—up and down, taking his sweet time.

He stood up without saying a word, walking over with that confident stride of his, practically devouring me with his gaze. When he got close enough, he cupped my face and kissed me.

His touch was firm, but the kiss started soft, like he was holding back. I responded with a sly smile, returning the kiss with a slow peck—but I didn’t let it deepen.

I pulled away just slightly, teasing:

“We could save that for later…” I whispered, voice low, his breath still brushing against my lips. “Because right now… why don’t you go get me something to eat?”

I saw the look in his eyes change—half surprised, half amused.

“Pretty sure I saw a vending machine in the lobby,” I added, flashing a smug smile and lightly biting my bottom lip.

Leon let out a small, nasal chuckle and stepped back, shaking his head.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I know. Now go, before I strip and you completely lose focus,” I said, winking at him.

He laughed again, grabbed his wallet, and left the room with that classic attitude—slightly annoyed, but clearly smiling. And I stayed there, still smelling the hotel shampoo, wrapped in the robe, heart racing.

Even with the world falling apart out there… in here, everything felt calm.

A few minutes later, I heard the key turn in the door. Leon walked in with a soda in one hand and a bag of mixed snacks in the other. He closed the door with his foot and gave me that crooked little smile he always wore when he was trying to act casual—though it was obvious he was happy to be there.

“Look who turned into my personal supplier,” I joked, adjusting myself on the bed with the robe still loosely tied, crossing my legs over the sheets.

“I figured you’d starve and pass out, then I’d have to revive you with mouth-to-mouth,” he replied, tossing his jacket onto the room’s armchair.

He dropped down beside me, opened the snacks, and handed me the TV remote. I flipped through the channels until I stopped on some old, silly animated cartoon—exactly what we needed after such a heavy day. Leon didn’t complain. He just chuckled and leaned his head on my shoulder, pulling me a little closer.

While we snacked, he’d occasionally press soft kisses to my cheek, and I pretended not to melt inside. Sometimes he leaned in to breathe me in—smiling faintly, almost sighing. His hand rested on my thigh over the robe, fingers lazily tracing small circles on my skin.

We laughed out loud at a particularly stupid scene—some character accidentally throwing a pie in his own face. And for a second, everything felt… normal.

But my laughter slowly faded. The weight of reality crept back in like a cold wave down my spine.

“Leon…” I started quietly. “I’m scared of what’s coming. The next few days, how things are going to be.” I sighed. “I’m worried about my parents... everyone.”

He turned his head immediately. He gently took hold of my chin, guiding me to face him. His eyes were steady—but full of tenderness.

“Hey... look at me. I’m with you. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen. I promise.”

My throat tightened, and for a second, my breath caught in my chest.

“We’ve been through worse before, remember?” he continued, his voice low and comforting. “You were so brave... and now it’s gonna be the same. We’ll get through this together. Like always.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. His scent, his voice, the warmth of his body pressed to mine... it was everything I needed to keep from falling apart.

“Thank you, Leon,” I whispered, resting my forehead against his.

He smiled softly against my skin, kissing the corner of my mouth.

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out what life’s like without me.”

---

I was lying there, tucked into Leon’s chest, the TV casting soft, colorful lights across his face. The cartoon was still playing, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore.

All I could think about was him. The way he’d occasionally sniff my hair. The light kisses he pressed to my face. And that one damned memory that started hammering in my head without mercy.

"Leon..." I murmured, just to break the silence.

"Hm?" he replied, not looking away from the screen, but gently squeezing my waist with his hand.

"I was remembering something."

"A good something?" he asked in that lazy tone of his—lazy, but definitely intrigued.

"Depends on how you look at it," I said, biting my lip. I shifted, lifting my face just enough to meet his eyes. "Do you remember the conference room?"

He finally looked away from the TV, and the grin that slowly spread across his face was downright indecent.

"That time?"

"Yeah... the one where we almost got caught," I whispered, leaning in closer. "You pinned me against the wall and covered my mouth with your hand so I wouldn’t moan."

He let out a low chuckle and licked his lips like he could see it all over again in his mind.

"You were wearing that white shirt," he said, voice rougher now. "It hugged your body just right..."

"I’d been craving you all day," he admitted, his fingers starting to trail up my side. "You drove me crazy... acting all innocent, but grinding up on me in the corner like you wanted me to ruin you right there."

"I did ask," I murmured, locking eyes with him. "And you had the nerve to ask if I could take it without making a sound."

Leon took a deep breath, like the memory had stirred something in him too. He turned more toward me, pulling me closer, and pressed a hot kiss to my neck.

"You nearly cried when I used my fingers on you, remember?" he whispered in my ear. "But you were such a good boy... holding it all in so no one would hear."

"I had your handprint on my hip for days," I said, laughing softly, cheeks burning.

"And you showed it off proudly every time you undressed," he teased, gently pushing me back against the pillows. "And now here you are again, lying in bed with me, teasing me all over... and you think you're gonna get away with it?"

"I’m not even trying to," I said, biting back a smirk. "Guess I was just waiting for the right moment."

Leon moved over me slowly, his body pressing against mine, eyes gleaming with desire—but still carrying that tenderness only he could give.

“So this is it,” he whispered. “Now I’m gonna show you what it’s like when we actually have time... and privacy.”

It all happened so fast.

He opened my robe, and from the look on his face, he seemed absolutely starving for my body—like always.

That familiar smirk curved his lips as he spotted the mark he’d left on me last time...

And that’s where he started—kissing, licking—and god, that alone was enough to get me hard. He had that kind of power over me. He could get me turned on without even trying.

He wanted to keep kissing me, touching me, taking his time... but I stopped him—only to make him take his clothes off too.

And damn. What a view.

No matter how many times I see it, I’m always stunned. How can a man be this perfect?

I looked down and he was rubbing his erection against mine.

He knew very well how to use those nine inches. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to take it all the first time.

But it always seemed to fit so well... as if it had been tailor-made just for me.

He pressed two fingers under my lips and told me to "make it nice and wet".

And I obeyed of course... damn,even his fingers were perfect.

I sucked looking into his eyes, he went a little deeper just to make me choke.

His fingers came out and went down to my ass, and my lips were taken by his, his tongue invading my mouth... I let out a little moan.

---

He already had his fingers deep inside me, making a slow back and forth movement, while still kissing me.

It felt good. Not as good

as his cock, but it was good and stimulating, especially when he kept rubbing his fingertips against my anal walls.

"Start touching yourself." He said, not even giving me time to reply and already kissing me again.

And so I did.

I started masturbating, gradually speeding up, and so did Leon.

Each time faster and harder. It was when he moved his kisses down from my mouth to my neck that I couldn't stand it.

Rope after rope of semen gushed onto my belly, and even a little onto my chest.

Leon finally pulled his fingers out of me, leaving me feeling empty.

He spread the cum on my belly with his fingertips, brought it to his lips and sucked on it.

“You taste sweet...” he said, opening a smile, and then pulling me into a kiss, making me taste myself.

[catierambles]

Once in a Blue Moon Ch. 25

It was late afternoon by the time Samantha woke, Sy and Mike having gone back to the cabin, packed, and returned before she emerged from August’s room.

“How’d you sleep, baby?” Sy asked, pulling her against his chest and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Okay, I guess.” She said, “With August holding me hostage, I couldn't do much else.”

“Princess, if I had been holding you hostage, you'd still be in my bed.” August said simply and she arched a brow at him. “Leon got back to me, a cleaning crew is going to come out and deep clean the house in the next couple of days.”

“Yeah?” Sy asked and he nodded.

“Turns out they don’t just “clean up” after territorial disputes.” He said, “They do actual cleaning as well.”

“Good.” Sy said, “Johnny-Boy’s aftershave is startin’ to give me a headache.”

“I washed the bedding.” Geralt said, “And remade the bed.”

“I had to help.�� Walter added, “The fitted sheet was the worst.”

“It should help you sleep.” Geralt said and she nodded, relaxing against Sy’s chest and breathing in deep through her nose, trying to fill her nose with his scent instead of the one firmly lodged in it.

“We also opened the windows and let some fresh air in.” Walter said, “Should help as well.”

“I’m sorry.” She said, burying her face more in Sy’s chest.

“You got nothing to apologize for, sweetcheeks.” Mike said, “If it helps you, we don’t mind doing it.”

“I’ve been nothing but a burden on you guys.”

“Bullshit.” Sy said simply, “This was the best outcome from one of Mikey’s fuck-ups we coulda asked for. We got our Mate.”

“At least we didn’t have to bail him out of town lock-up again.” Geralt said and she gave him a questioning look. “He tends to get into fights when he goes out by himself to the bar.”

“Only when some jackass can’t take no for an answer from a girl.” Mike said in his own defense. “I never throw the first punch, but I always throw the last.”

“Just like I taught ya.” Sy said, “Never start a fight, always end one.”

The next day, Sy and Walter pulled the rest of Jonathan’s things out of the closet and dressers, tossing it all into trash bags and throwing them in the garage.

“He’s about Mr. Solo’s size.” Samantha said, “You think he’d like his suits? He’d probably have to get them tailored, but I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“No, he won’t accept second-hand suits.” August said, “They’re also too cheep for him.”

“They’re three-thousand dollars suits.” Samantha said after a pause and he looked up at her from his phone. “Each.”

“I said what I said.” August said, “I’ll let him know you offered, though. He’ll appreciate the gesture.”

“Can you also let him know I have records and a computer for him?” She asked and he gave her a questioning look. Going into the now half-empty closet, she went to the back and knelt by the large safe in the bottom, punching in a code and opening the door, pulling out several heavy ledgers and binders. “Mike?”

“Yeah?” He asked around August who had followed her and was standing in the closet doorway.

“Can you go into the office and disconnect the tower?” She asked, “We can put your tower in there and you can use the monitors.”

“Yeah.” Mike said, “I was looking at that ultrawide monitor anyway and wondering if it would fit on my desk.”

“I’m guessing these are all “church” records?” August asked and she nodded. “Oh he’ll be thrilled, and because you own the house and all the contents inside, it’s not theft as you handed it over willingly.”

“Exactly my thoughts.” She said and he helped her carry out the safe contents, putting them on the bed and leaving only to grab a box that he had used to transport some of his things from the cabin, sending a quick message to Napoleon letting him know.

Napoleon was there in less than an hour, which made her wonder if he lived nearby, even though she thought he would live in Washington DC. August moved his SUV so Napoleon could back into the garage just in case Jonathan had someone watching the house.

“Pretty sure it’s not my nameday.” Napoleon said as he opened the trunk of his luxury sedan, “But this is the best present I could ask for. Do you know what’s in the records?”

“Not entirely.” Samantha said, “I know it’s congregation records and that he forbid me from going on that computer.”

“Password protected?” Napoleon asked and she nodded. “That’s easy enough to get past.”

“Can you promise me you will only use the information in those records to...hurt Jonathan and not the others?” She asked, “They’re good people, and it’s not their fault they’re being taken advantage of and manipulated.”

“If—if—I find anything that implicates him or anyone else in his dealings or anything explicitly illegal, I will make sure it gets the proper authorities. I’m not in the business of blackmail.”

“Since when?” August asked and Napoleon shot him a look.

They took her back to the cabin when the cleaning crew showed up early one morning so they didn’t get in anyone’s way, and so she could flush the scent from her nose with the mountain air before returning when they were done. Sy let them know where they would be and to call any one of them once they were done, also calling Jack and letting him know what was going on in case Jonathan tried to take the opportunity of them not being there to pull something.

She and Mike lay on the couch, Samantha dozing on his chest with their legs tangled, a throw blanket covering them.

“Hey, Sam?” He asked and she hummed at him, not opening her eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why—are you sure you love me?” That made her open her eyes and she picked her head up, looking at him. “I mean, I attacked you. I hurt you. I tore your humanity away and nearly killed you. I remember you said you were going to—what you had planned that night, but I almost did it for you.”

“Mike...”

“And seeing you with the others, seeing how happy they make you. I just—they’re Alphas, and you’re an Omega, mostly, and I’m not, I’m just some Beta who can’t protect you and again, I almost killed you.” She was quiet as he spoke and she reached up when the stream of words had stopped, touching his face gently.

“Mike.” She said and gave a sigh before shifting position, straddling his hips and moving so she was eye to eye with him. “I love you.”

“But I—” She silenced him with a kiss and his chest deflated with a sigh. “I love you, too.” She just kissed him again, easing down onto his chest, and his arms came around her. A shiver raced down her spine as his hands pushed down her back, palming her ass and squeezing.

“Mike.” She whimpered, rolling her hips against him. He pulled up the lacrosse jersey she was wearing, one of his from high school, sliding his hands under her small clothes to grab her fully. Samantha raised herself only so much as to reach between them, helping Mike shove down his sweatpants. Moving aside her small clothes, she kept her eyes locked on his as she stroked him to full hardness before aligning them and guiding him into her.

“Fuck, Sam.” He sighed, his head falling back against the couch and she started to ride him, rolling her hips against him. She was mindful that they were still in the living room and the one of the others could come downstairs at any time. His arms came around her again as she buried her face in his neck, the springs of the couch starting to protest as the movements of her hips quickened. He pressed against that spot inside her with each roll of her hips, the coil tightening in her lower stomach as his base put friction against her clit. His hands gripping her ass guided her movements and tears pricked at her eyes as the sensations started to become overwhelming.

“F-fuck.” She almost sobbed and threw all caution out the window, sitting up on him and rocking her hips, balling the jersey up by her stomach so he could see himself move inside her.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He whispered, looking between them before his head fell back again. “Fuck.” He breathed and she fell forward again, kissing him, letting him swallow the sounds she was making as she pushed them further and further. Samantha tucked her face into his neck, his arms coming around her and her cry as she tumbled over the edge was muffled against his skin. His hands went to her hips, keeping her moving, and it wasn’t long before he joined her, his jaw clenching and his head going back as he released inside of her.

“I love you.” She breathed, taking her face from his neck to kiss him and he held the back of her neck, keeping her close.

“I love you too.” He said, moving the tip of his nose over her face before pressing another soft kiss to her lips. “We are so lucky no one decided on a trip to the kitchen.”

“Yeah.” She said with a weak chuckle. “Let’s not press our luck and move this to your room. I need you again.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He said and she moved off him, fixing her underwear and tugging the jersey straight as he shoved himself back in his pants before getting off the couch. Taking his hand, she led him up the stairs, his room door closing behind them.

Later, Sy walked through the living room but stopped, his brow furrowing and he sniffed the air slightly before sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Really?”

[citrine-elephant]

ok so the fun thing about that mind control au idea is it is not only traumatizing for leon. but chris, too!

leon gets to remember what it's like to be controlled by a parasite and chris gets to remember what it's like to have a good friend try to murder him. and also try to remove the thing that's making him bloodthirsty :3c

[writingwisterias]

I HAD A NEW THOUGHT TO TELL YOU!!!!!!

How do you think the Leon Eras would react if you locked him in during sex? Like legs wrapped around not letting him go till he fills you to the brim!!!

Hii Dani this is delicious and I've been thinking about it all day omgggg, you knew what to hit me with...

Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Premature Ejaculation,

RE2: Cums instantly, like you pull him in closer with a whine. That it he's whimpering and whining as his cock twitches wildly inside you. There is a sense of panic at first but then he gets hard almost immediately feeling it seep out around him. Plus it gives him a chance for you to forgive him for cumming so quick

RE4R: He's the one that put your legs there. He moved them one at a time ensuring you get the picture and squeezes your thighs to ensure the hold is tight. Pants and groans in your ear and how well you are taking him and how good it feels. His grip on your thighs leaves tender spots where his fingers were, and he loves it if you squeeze them around him

Infinite Darkness: Takes it as a challenge to get himself as close to you as possible. He's like driving into you so deep that you swear he will abuse your cervix like no tomorrow, he does not give a shit. Prefer it if you tighten the grip, he might slowly squirm away just for you to trap him tighter again.

Damnation: You make him stumble and lose his rhythm, the sudden change in position doesn't help with the alcohol he drowned his sorrows with. However just because you made him lose his footing he'll use the closeness to his advantage and come back at a punishing rate. I'm talking your pelvis is hurting and your hips click when you release him...

RE6: Reaches around and actually holds the lock you have on him. Pushes his entire body weight on you trapping you into the mating press to ensure that you are completely filled to his own satisfaction

Vendetta: Freezes for a second, it's all suddenly to intimate and he feels slightly trapped. The consequences of a creampie are some he's not entirely sure he wants to face them. It's not until you arch yourself against him using the position as levage that he gets into it. The deeper connection suddenly becomes more fun and he's not longer thinking about the what ifs

Death Island: He's giving you the biggest fucking grin you have ever seen. Actually takes it as a challenge to abuse your cervix even more than he is. Giving your cunt no other option but to take his load.

[chaotic-fluff3]

I want a BBC Merlin fanfic where Hunith visits Camelot as a surprise. Merlin doesn't know she's coming, only Gaius knows that she plans to visit. This is set in a time period where all the knights are alive (I'm looking at you Lancelot.) and Arthur is Prince, but running the Kingdom as Uther is unwell.

Hunith pulls up to Camelot and is walking towards the Castle through the citadel, burdened by her bags, when a cheerful voice rings out. "Do you need any help, miss?" It's one of the many Castle servants.

Hunith explains that she is heading to the Castle to visit her son who works there, the servant then offers to carry her bags.

"Oh I don't want to be a bother." Hunith replies

"It's no bother at all! Really, I was heading that way already." The servant insists and they both make their way to the castle, "What's your son's name by the way, I might know him if he works here."

"His name is Merlin." Hunith responds with a smile. The servant stops walking and looks at her. It's not only him that stops at this announcement.

"Y-you're Merlin's Mother?!?" A nearby servant who had been close enough to hear the conversation says in awe.

The courtyard that they're walking through gradually fills with hushed whispers as the news spreads. Everyone knows of Merlin. The Prince's manservant who had managed to not quit in the first week of serving him. Merlin, who changed the Prince from a spoiled brat into a good man whom the Kingdom was proud of and eagerly awaited the day he would be crowned King. Merlin, who had followed the Prince into battle time and time again to save Camelot.

I want a fanfiction where The Entire Of Camelot loves Merlin and is thankful for his role in making Arthur a good person. Where not only the Knights, but the Castle staff meet his mother and collectively decide that she is That Woman and treat her with Respect. Where they treat her like Royalty.

Ofc Gwaine loves her. That's his best friend's mom. Hunith looks at all the knights and adopts them on the Spot.

And Merlin is either really confused by this behavior or knows and just lets it happen.

Arthur has no idea what's going on or why but he treats her with reverence and love because that's his future Mother in Law and he's very much starved for parental affection which she gives him (and the knights) in spades.

But yes, I just want a fic of people meeting Hunith and being like "Thank you for giving birth to your son. I'd die for you both" and her being like "...please don't."

(Bonus if Leon meets her and is just like. "How did you survive being around that little shit (Merlin) for so long?" And she just laughs and gives him advice, which makes him cry because he's just so tired. #LetLeonRest2024 I will push this agenda till I die)

[fckmebarnes]

not fair

professor!bucky barnes x student!reader

18+ men and minors dni! smut -- dry humping. pussy lip fucking. creampie. choking. gag (tie). voyreism. erm. yeah! hehe

w/c -- 3k

a/n -- lemme bring back dry humping real quick...I had to write something for this photo shoot release -- I got so many requests on Twitter to write something and on here so...I hope you guys enjoy! kinda wanna make them a thing so...feedback is welcome <3 @brooklyn-duo & @professor-james-buchanan-barnes … hope you enjoy hehe <3

beep beep beep

you groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you heard the incessant noise from your alarm. wiping your arm to find your phone, you groggily open your eyes to turn off the alarm before you see the time.

shit. you were late for your class.

scrambling out of bed, you toss on the only clothes you can find -- a big t-shirt with some biker shorts on underneath. quickly putting yourself together and finding your bag with your books, you haul your ass across campus as fast as you can go.

--

“you’re late.” you feel your body freeze as you're making your way to the only open seat on the other side of the classroom, closest to the professor.

you life your head up with shame across your face. you weren't usually this late, and you hated being late to professor barnes’ class.

you had a pretty good attendance, so he wasn't going to give it too much thought, but he absolutely loved seeing your face flood with guilt and shame. something about it made his skin crawl in a good way.

you mumble a little apology as you sit down and plop your bag down and feeling the stare of the rest of the classroom.

“stay after class.” he states and all you can do is nod.

--

“c’mere.” he beckons you with his metal pointer finger. he was pushed away from his desk, spreading his legs out wide, plenty of room if you wanted to kneel in between them. he must've caught the way your demeanor shifts when your eyes drag over his figure. you're suddenly feeling hot under his gaze and without missing a beat you're striding over to him.

“good girl. you listen very well.” he murmurs, eyes darkening as he looks at you from head to toe, slowly, and back again. you swallow thickly before youre blushing deeply -- your cheeks fucking hurt now.

he sits up, reaching for your wrist with his metal hand before hes pulling you right in between those damn legs, your own thighs brushing against him. you felt a little self conscious on how much space you were taking in between his legs -- not really ever wearing biker shorts like this. they always made you feel like maybe your thighs were too ‘big’

he did not seem to care, though.

both of his large hands come to run up the backs of your thighs, his fingertips brushing gently towards your inner leg, over the fabric and cupping your core gently. you suck in a breath, completely aware of his touch.

he pulls you closer, almost making you stumble into his chest before he’s turning you around and sitting you down right in his lap -- your ass rubbing right against his cock.

“professor..!” you let out a little squeal, bracing your arms on the edge of the desk in front of you. he grunts behind you, watching your back arch out as you look behind him.

“how do you just do whatever you want, doll?” you furrow your brows as his hands grip tighter onto your hips. you didn’t know what he was talking about, but the way he was looking at you told you he was going to show you.

“think you can just be late for my class, and not even show up for last week's lesson.” you blush, knowing exactly what he meant by ‘lesson’.

you and professor barnes had this perfect game of cat and mouse -- he acted nonchalant, like he didn’t really want you. but you knew how bad he wanted you every single time he would stare you down during a lesson, how he would specifically have an open seat next to his desk every single lesson just for you. how he knew exactly how to make you cry on his fingers.

he started giving you these after class lessons. you were nervous at first. clearly it was for real studying and needing an extra hand on the course work.

you were a stellar student -- you have perfect attendance, you always apply yourself and you get decent ish grades.

but sometimes you just need extra help.

and for some reason, help looked like professor barnes’ fingers inside you, warming them while he made you read out your essay he had graded, or a chapter of a textbook lesson you missed.

“i don’t know what you mean, professor.” fuck. the innocence in your tone made his cock twitch, and it was the way your eyes looked big at him over your shoulder.

he pulled you fully seated back onto him, letting you keep your grip on the table while he slowly started to buck his hips into you -- a concentrated look on his face. you could feel how fucking hard he was through your slacks, and you knew he could smell how wet you were.

“i highly doubt it.” he mutters, biting his lip as he continues to grind into you. he saw the second you felt his cock rub against your clothes clit because you started grinding back down onto him, loving this little game.

“i mean it…” you trail off, innocence still in your tone. “i just need some extra guidance, professor. can you help me?” his eyes darken the second you ask, his fingertips digging deeper into hips. he removes them for a second before hes sliding his hands up and under the fabric of your big t-shirt and hooking his fingertips under the waistband of your biker shorts.

“you want my help, doll?” you nod with a whimper leaving lips as you grind down harder onto him. there was something so fucking debauched about dry humping your history professor right after class -- the windows wide open. someone could hear if they walked by. it gave you a thrill, but you knew that he wouldn’t let anyone hear you.

he groans, feeling his cock throb heavily in his slacks, a wet spot forming on the front of his boxers and pants. he bucks his hips into you as you grind down into him, biting your lip from making any noise. he could see your struggle -- he could see your composure slowly melting away with every single thrust he gives into you. letting you imagine what it would be like if he were to fuck you int his position right now.

but that would be a reward for you. and you were late to class.

he suddenly stops thrusting up into you, taking his hands from around your waist band and tugging your shorts down to your ankles. your big t-shirt still pooled around your hips, bunched up and showing your hip creases.

he almost came to the sight of them. “fuck…baby.” he absentmindedly runs his fingers down the sides of your hips under your shirt before they come into contact with your hip creases and pinches them -- he loved to see a little something extra for him to grip onto and mark.

you whimper as he touches you, feeling suddenly exposed under his eye. he loves making you feel like this -- where any move you made he would pounce on you in a second

“professor…” you draw on, looking at him as he pulls his hands away from your hips and going for the burgundy diamond tie snug around his neck. he loses it, shaking his head to make it come off faster before he’s leaning forward to wrap it around the front of your mouth.

its soft against your skin and it smells exactly like his cologne -- the scent invading your brain and making you feel fuzzy.

he ties a little loose knot on the back of your head, making sure to not get any hair caught before he is tugging on it a little bit -- your back arching against his chest as his metal hand comes to the front of your body, cupping your sex through your underwear.

“tell me, doll…” he starts, his lips brushing against the side of your ear, licking up a small stripe from your earlobe around the shell of your ear before hes softly breathing into your ear making you shiver. “do you let other professor’s tutor you like this? or am i just the exception?” he inquires, already knowing the answer.

you stumble through your words as he starts to run his fingers over your clothed slit, feeling the dampness form more on the fabric. you shuddered as you shook your head, gripping the sides of the chair. he tuts as he puts a little smack onto your swollen clit. he watches as you breathe through your nose, feeling the anticipation grow throughout your body as he continued to leave little light smacks onto your clit -- your body jerking with each smack

you could feel another gush of arousal flow through you, soaking the fabri even more and making a little sticky sound as he teasingly goes to finger your hole through your underwear.

“so this is all for me? no one else?” you nodded, whining more against the tie as your chest rises quicker at the feeling of the tip of his middle finger prods your slick hole.

“good girl.” he purrs softly before he nips your earlobe again and pushes you forward -- catching yourself on the edge of his desk again.

he unzips his slacks, taking his hard cock out through the hole in his boxers and spits in his hand to pump his cock a few times. you can feel as he slaps the tip of his cock on your ass, pre cum smearing into the fabric. you whine again, rocking your hips against him.

“so eager to get a good grade, aren’t you?” you nod, desperate at this point. you didn’t know what he was going to do, but either way you needed him to fill you up.

he thumbs the center of your soaked underwear to the side, before sliding his cock in between the wet fabric and your dripping cunt.

“fuck, baby. this pussy is soaked, isn’t she?” your arousal soaked his entire length instantly, and both of you let out a satisfied groan as you felt his cock slide into your wet underwear and heat. he groaned as he could feel your clit throb against him, as he let go of your underwear and letting it snap back into place. he brings you back onto his lap, tugging on the ends of the tie to make your head snap back against his shoulder as he rocks his hips up against you -- his fat cock sliding easily against your soaked underwear and cunt. you wanted nothing more for him to push his fat tip past your hole -- but you knew he wouldn't do that.

“tell you what, sweetheart.” he grips your hip with his metal hand to keep you steady, his flesh hand letting go of the ends of the tie and wrapping loosely around the front of your throat. “i’ll let you grind into me like this until the tip of my fat dick catches your slutty hole.” he groans gently as he feels your heart beat pick up at the proposition. he hadnt even told you all of it yet.

your fingers dig into the wooden chair arms as you continue to grind yourself into him, soaking him entirely. your clit throbbed furiously, your nipples ached and your core was heavy. you needed release but you weren't sure if he was going to give it to you.

“if that happens,” he continues, slowing his pace and letting you grind again, groaning as he easily slides in between your wet folds. “i’ll give you all of my cock, okay?” you whimper as you nod, wanting nothing more than to be sat on his cock. and you felt like that was going to happen with the rate your hips picked up the pace, shorter huffs of breaths through your nose as you concentrated.

“atta girl,” he coos, turning his head to press his lips against your neck as you feel the tip of his cock nudge against your swollen clit, a muffle moan escaping your lips. his cock throbbed as you pulled your hips forward. at that moment, just the tip of his cock nudged into your hole before sliding easily past it.

“fuck…” you were close, wanting his cock so fucking bad that you let go of the chair handles and leaned forward -- grabbing the edge of his desk and fucking your cunt over the lenght of his cock more.

he watches you with wide, darkened eyes as you move, making eye contact as you desperately catch the tip of his cock on your hole.

“thats it…” he encourages as you catch the tip of his cock again before hes grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his cock with a moan. “takin’ my cock like a good girl i knew you were.” you let out a muffled moan as you feel his stretch around you, his cock throbbing inside of you and the tip snug so deep into your gut you could feel tears prick your eyes.

“you look pretty like this…” he muses, lifting your shirt up higher to expose your back and that arch you did as soon as he sat you on his cock. your hips were grabbable, big. he fucking loved that.

he kept your shirt bunched at the top of your back with his flesh hand before his metal one comes to ground you on his dick before you start moving your own hips up and down on him.

your fingers grip against the desk as he meets your thrusts, watching as his cock gets swallowed right into your pussy, slipping back out with slick covering his length.

“takin’ your professor’s cock so fuckin’ good, you know that doll?” you moan again against the tie, the smell of his cologne hitting you again like a ton of bricks as he lets go of your shirt and grips your hips with both hands

he starts his pace quicker, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again. you clench around him and you swore you felt him throb inside of you. his finger nails dig into your skin to leave marks this time. you want to take the tie off and moan his name, let him hear your whimpers and whines that are being made just for him.

he stands up with his cock still buried deep inside of you before hes fucking you over his desk, papers flying off the surface and sprawled over the floor, pencils knocking against each other and the metal sound of his belt buckle slapping against your thighs.

he smooths his hands over your ass before he spreads your cheeks and pulls your underwear aside to really watch his cock disappear inside of you.

“fuck…she keeps suckin’ her professor in, baby.” he comments as he watches you smush your cheek against his desk, eyes locked on yours as whimpers and mons muffle themselves against his tie. you could feel your orgasm come on with each thrusting of his hips and his metal hand coming to stuff itself down the front of your underwear and press against your swollen clit.

you clench in response, your thighs clenching as you feel him deep inside of you, the messy sound of his cock fucking into you -- you were so thankful for his stupid fucking tie.

“gonna cum, doll? can feel her squeezing me, know you need it…” he growls against the back of your head when he leans forward and against you -- the buttons from his dress shirt rubbing against your spine.

he reaches for the tie in your mouth with his free hand and grips the base of your throat to make you look at him best you could without straining your neck.

“let me hear you, doll. wanna hear you cum around your professor’s cock like a good little student, you hear me?” your mouth falls open as you let out a moan, his fingers playing your clit perfectly as his cock fucks into you and his hand around your throat tightens just enough to get your brain fuzzy as you cum hard around his cock.

“there we go, good girl. give it to me, soak my fuckin’ cock.” he wants all of it, wants you to make the biggest mess all over his over and over and over again. you start babbling sentences, mostly ‘thank you, thank you’ as youre screwing your eyes shut. your cunt clenches around him again as his hips speed up chasing his own release

“fuck, james…” you groan out as you squeezehim again, feeling another one come on.

“you gonna cum again, baby? fuck--” he moans as he feels your thighs tense again, your clit throbbing under his thumb as you squirt into your underwear, cheeks flushed with embarrassment of how fuckin gone you are.

“shit.” he notices you squirt, biting your shoulder harshly as he feels his cock twitch, pace faltering as he catches his release and pulls out just in time to cum in your underwear -- making an even bigger mess than before.

“fuck…god baby…” he groans as he moves his hips slower, body shivering as he rides his high and takes his hand from your clit to suck his finger clean. he groans as he tastes you on his tongue, needing more. but he knew it was almost time for faculty to be going home and he didnt want either one of you to get chewed out

“you did so fuckin’ good for me.” he praises as he pulls his cock from your soiled underwear, your body shivering as you feel his cum stick to your inner thighs and making a mess of your pussy.

he leaned up again as he smacks your ass gently, admiring the way you look bent over his desk. he pulls back up your bike shorts and you groan as you feel his and your mess press harder against your core.

he kisses down your spine before pulling down your shirt again and pulling you up and turning you around. he pulls you back into his chest and sits down in his chair curled up on his lap. this is the best aftercare he can offer you right now, which kills him. he knows you don't mind too much, but there are some times where he just wants to cuddle with you for hours afterwards.

“you still mad at me for being late?” you feel his chest rumble under your face as you smush against him, playing with one of the dress buttons on his shirt. he rubs your exposed arm with his hand before peppering a kiss on the top of your head.

“of course not, doll.” you sigh softly at the validation, looking up at him.

“thank you for this lesson , professor barnes. i think i learned this time…” you trail off, watching as he smirks, pecking a soft kiss to your lips.

“anything for you, my star student. have to make sure you pass.”

[dissolved-g1rl]

clean shaven ⊹˚. ♡ (Leon becomes a feminist ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ)

“Please Leon, pretty please, with whipped cream and cherries on top?” You smooch his cheek, his palm promptly covers your face, you yelp when smushes your face away. “No.” He grumbles, turning over onto his side to cuddle your teddy bear instead, it has soft brown fur, and a pink bow with delicate lace. He came over to nap, get kisses and back rubs, maybe get his dick wet if you were in a good mood, whatever. “Don’t be such a boy.” You exasperated, flopping on top of him, he groans when he feels the brunt of your weight crash down on him. “Men don’t wax.” He deadpans, opening one eye to squint at you. You go back to schmoozing him, cupping olive skin between your palms, cupping his cheeks, giving him smooch after smooch, “Please Leon? Pretty, pretty, pretty please?” You plead between kisses. He rolls his eyes, pulling you in for one more, “Fine.” He says incredibly begrudging, your eyes practically light up like stars.

Leon always though that bagging a hot girlfriend would mean living it up like hugh heffner or something. He likes all your cutesy stuff, but you’re more aggressive then he thought, biting his biceps, tying his short strands up with bows, testing all your skin care on him, he’ll let that last one slide, he hasn’t seen a clogged pore in months. He lays back against your floral print sheets with his arms up, his toned stomach slightly concave as you settle onto his lap. You wipe his underarm with a baby wipe, removing any dregs of his piney deodorant, “Is it gonna hurt?” He mumbles, watching apprehensively, “No, ‘s just like a uhh pinch.” You shrug, taking a wax strip from the box, warming it between your palms. “A pinch?” He raises his brow. “Yeah, you can’t wuss out now.” You say pulling apart the wax strip, pushing his arm up, laying the wax strip down, rubbing it so it’s firmly in place.

“Ewwww it’s sticky.”

“It’s wax Leon, it’s obviously gonna be sticky.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“You want a countdown?”

“I’m not a baby—OW!”

His voice cracks when you pull the wax strips off. It pulls his dirty blonde hair clean off, “What the fuck?! I thought I was getting a countdown!” He whines, you soothe his underarm with pressure, using a clean baby wipe to wipe away sticky residue “It hurts less when you don’t expect it.” You chirp, “You were very brave honey.” You say giving his side a pat, “Ready for the other arm?” You croon, he firmly shakes his head “Hell no!”

“You’re gonna be uneven though…”

“I don’t care!”

“You are such a baby, I do this every two weeks, y’know.”

He blinks at you dumbly, like his eyes are dry, you think they’re actually a little watery. “Huh?” is what you receive, “What? You thought i’m just naturally smooth all the time?” You ask raising a brow, “No but… everywhere..?” He asks, his eyes head south, “Duh.” is the eloquent response you give him, Leon shivers at the thought of a wax strip yanking his balls off, “Oh honey, cancel your appointment, that’s evil.” You giggle at his stoney expression, “I’m not kidding, we’re going full 70’s, the bush is in.” He states firmly, “Christ, I’ll shave you if being hairless is that important.” He raises his fingers like he’s making a boy-scout promise. “Wow.” You burst into giggles, “Really? You wouldn’t care if I was totally hairy?” You croon, you don’t believe a boy would ever go for that, but Leon shakes his head firmly, “Swear I wouldn’t, ‘s natural anyways, not a big deal, seriously.” You feel warm by how serious he is. You see so many girls complain about how jerky their boyfriends are about hair, but you can see how much Leon truly cares. “You’re funny.” You laugh, giving him a kiss on the cheek, Leon wasn’t joking, but he likes receiving kisses, he wiggles from underneath you, smiling cause he soaks up kisses like a flower does sunlight.

dividers by @uzmacchiato

[sinsofnivan]

INTOXICATION .ᐟ — RE Men x YOU.

SUMMARY: just horny resident evil blurbs where they're all pussydrunk. <3

PAIRINGS: LEON S. KENNEDY/Reader, LUIS SERRA/Reader, CHRIS REDFIELD/Reader, ALBERT WESKER/Reader, JACK KRAUSER/Reader, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/Reader

WARNINGS: female reader, nsfw themes, PROBABLY inaccurate anatomy, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it folks. ), begging, breeding && Daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry makeup sex, size kink/difference, cervix fucking,

author's note: this is my first post. :) sorry if it's not that flourished . . .

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ NSFW UNDER THE CUT. ┈┈┈┈

LEON S KENNEDY .ᐟ

leon has seen — and will see more — monsters and cruelty beyond human recognition. both you and him think it's a pretty valid reason to not have children yet.

he knows contraceptives and birth control isn't a hundred percent effective, so he always played it safe: cumming on your face, giving you a good throatpie, covering your back and/or tummy with his warm cum . . .

so one could imagine the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your pretty legs around him.

⟡

"baby, fuck! what're you- what're you doing?"

leon snaps from his fucked out haze, eyes suddenly wide and open as he watched you in your familiar fervour. "leon, please, please, Daddy. breed me. want your cum," you begged for it like you needed it; the shiny gloss of your tears only made you look so much prettier, he thinks . . . how could he resist such an angel like you?

"baby, we- we . . " he physically cannot muster that he can't. because can, and he will. the rough snapping of his hips never faltered, mind and body fueled with the need to breed you, to stuff you full until you leaked. "don't pull out—♡.ᐟ "

your begging alone was irresistible, and with the additional hypnotizing vice you had around his girth — the word no didn't even exist in his head. "yeah? y , y'want it that bad?" nod, nod.

you whined when he pulls out, partly from disappointment and feeling empty without him. you thought you'd be triumphant. just as you were about to call for him, however, your knees are pressed against your chest, and the familiar grip on your hips were now on the back of your knees.

it's not the stretch that makes your eyes wide, but the feeling of his tip pressed directly against your cervix. a premature orgasm rips through you and turning your brain into mush. completely, this time; leon was there to witness this, brows furrowed together and resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back so he can see your beautiful face.

his pounding resumes, skin sinfully slapping against skin, cock grazing your most sensitive spots with each needy rut. "i'll fucking breed you, angel. how do you like that?" your legs are high, higher up, now that he's leaning forward to have a closer look on your pretty face.

"Y/N," he chants like a prayer. he needs you like he hasn't needed before, forever and always. "leoooooon, love you — i love you," you sobbed, nails marking crescents on his shoulders, biceps. you feel so fucking full, you can't even think. just him and how good it'd feel to have his semen leaking out of your folds.

"fuuuuck, baby. you're drivin' me crazy. i love you too,"

his hips are aching, but that doesn't stop him from ramming himself completely deep into you. it won't stop him, because all he can think of is to fuck you stupid, fuck you full.

there's nothing coherent that follows, just pure, absolute filth. you're drooling, and leon's tongue is cleaning up your mess, like he's not drooling with you. his orgasm's nearing, thrusts getting noticeably sloppy and unrhythmic, but still forceful; compensating for the lack of speed.

"'m gonna cum, darling. ah—! beg for it. beg for it like a good girl,"

your pleading resonates in the room. if you could emphasize it with a wrap of your legs, you would have done so already. but your legs feel numb. y'can't move, not with his body weight forcing them up.

"pleeeeease, pleasepleasepleaseplease. need it! need'a be bred, please,"

leon would have come up with a witty remark, but all that comes from him is a groan whilst he buried himself balls deep into you. he's not pent up or anything, not even close, but he knows he's cumming lots. because despite being fully sheathed inside you, it's leaking everywhere. he rides out his high with slow, shallow thrusts, cum spilling with every push of his cock.

he's regaining awareness, taking in deep breaths. his eyes glaze over your figure, pretty much in the same state of post-sex euphoria as you. "Y/N," he mutters, letting your legs down slowly. the wince on your face tells him you're awake, and he cups your face.

"Y/N, baby,"

a thumb caresses your cheek. "—talk to me," leon sighs in relief when you grinned at him. "hi, baby," you croaked groggily. leon began to massage your thighs, kissing your neck. "i'm sorry i got carried away," and the night is spent with you cradled by his strong arms and comforted with his usual sweetness.

now, he's left with an addiction for giving you endless creampies.

LUIS SERRA .ᐟ

GIF by entreri

your pleasure comes first before everything. 

before he's buried deep and you're stretched out from his cock, your cunt's all soaked and prepped from the amount of foreplay he gives you. it's more than just wanting to prepare you. to luis, it's a requirement. having the taste of your pussy and cum on his lips was mandatory. he can't neglect his prinsesa like this.

why would he deprive you of his tongue? his fingers? he likes taking his sweet, sweet time in watching you crumble into nothing for him, only for him.

⟡

"luis!"

how many times have you creamed and gushed all over your lover's face? you can't recall. you don't even know how long he's been lapping at your cunt, but luis continues to coax out orgasm after orgasm from you.

he basks in your reactions each and every time, peering up at you just to watch you writhe from his tongue, how your body arches when you've reached your sinful crescendo, how your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull while you scream his name . . .

every man has his needs, and it's hard to create balance when the need to taste your pussy and your cum is equally as strong as the need to give his cock some sweet relief; after it's been painfully hard for an hour now. it twitches every now and then, aching for you. your touch. your lips, hands . . . "dios mio, chica," he pulls away to spit on your pretty, glistening cunt. "por favor, bebé. te necesito." he's desperate to relieve this ache, to feel that sweet release, but he just can't stop. too addicted. too drunk.  

he compromises, your bliss coming first before his. his tongue laps up at your clit — the sensitive bud all puffy and twitchy from how much he's made you gush for the past hour. you feel so breathless. so lightheaded. still, it didn't stop you from begging your handsome lover. "luiiiis, pleeeease, want your cock." 

his response? delving his tongue into your folds; tongue tracing your creamy slit and cleaning up the mess you've made. "shhhhh, prinsesa." luis says with a mouthful of cunt, nose brushing against your clit everytime he tried to clean up every drop of your slick. your wails only grow louder, weakness taking over as your legs close in on him. luis feels his breath hitch in his throat. 

not just from the prolonged use of his skilled mouth. but because your thighs crushed him. effectively.

can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe . . .  

his hands have a mind of its own at this point, because a mere minute had passed, and he had already undone his pants to pull his cock out. his moan reverberates against your cunt, and it only makes you cry out, pulling on greying tresses. you can't think straight anymore. all you can think of is luis . . . .

he's determined to make you cum again, lips latching on to your clit. he's determined to make you fall apart for him again. his stubble rubs against your soft skin, a harsh contrast from his gentleness, but the burn only makes it all the more enjoyable. "cum, bebé," he says, hollowing his cheeks. your legs only tighten involuntarily, too responsive to his stimulation. luis kept his eyes on you, grunting against your pussy as he fucked his fist. he can't help it anymore, mami.

"oh, bebé,"

if only you could see how he desperately fucked his fist. he was such a good lover for you. it can't compare to your cunt, never — but beggars can't be choosers. you were so lost in your own euphoria, you swore you're seeing stars.He just growls against your folds, eager to make you cream on his face again.

"pleease, mami. cum for me. squirt on my face," 

"oh, luis! fuck! 'm cumming! cummingcummingcummingggg! hnhggh—♡!"

neither of you made sense to each other, engulfed with overwhelming bliss that washes over you — and, well, luis's face. it didn't matter, however, as you two knew your bodies and loved each other beyond words. you didn't need to tell him how good he made you feel, when your shaking legs already spoke on your behalf. 

as soon as luis feels your juices soak his chin, cheeks, hell, everywhere—he can't help but spill his cum into his hand, high-pitched cries buzzing against your pulsating cunt. he rides out your climax with gentle kisses on your spasming clit, each kiss helping you ride out your high. he found it cute how your body spasmed with every brush of his lips and stubble.

he rises to meet you, lips leaving trails of wet kisses along your body. "bonita," he whispered against your stomach, gently nibbling on the soft flesh. everything is blurry for you, with luis being the only clear picture in your eyes. you bite your lip. he goes higher, 'till ivory meets your hardened bud; fingertips toying with the other. "luiiiis, gimme - gimme kiss," you whined, holding his face. "'m here, prinsesa. i'm here," finally, fucking finally, you and luis are face to face. 

"i love youu. love you, baby. i love you so so much," 

"i love you too, mi amor." 

you can't help but grin when you feel his cock—still hard and leaking pre—rest against your cunt.

CHRIS REDFIELD .ᐟ

despite how he hulked over pretty much you and . . well, everyone, chris was a gentle giant. or tried his best to be one. it didn't help that he was naturally strong and bigger than you. his whole figure pretty much eclipsed over your frame, with his hand engulfing the entirety of your own, shoulders enough to keep you out of sight from wandering eyes . . . if he didn't keep in mind to handle you gently, he could practically crush you. 

mind? 

what mind? 

"c , chris!" 

you pathetically drooled all over his bicep as he pounded you from behind. his whole body weight was on top of you in a caging pronebone, with a headlock to completely lock you in place. "Y , Y/N, my baby girl," he whispered, nipping the shell of your ear. "your cunt feels good. i love you. i love you . .  love fucking you," he mutters dumbly as he kept shoving his cock deep into you. you knew he was still—at the very least—still keeping in mind to not crush you, because the bicep arm around your neck barely took your breath away. 

his thrusts did.

every push in knocked out the breath out of your lungs, cunt nicely wrapping around his girth. no matter how much prep he gives, you always ended up squirming because the stretch was like no other. it reached places no toy or finger ever could—the tip threatening to bully its way past your cervix. 

his head is placed between the nook of your shoulder, breathing heavily against your neck as his stubble grazed over your skin. your skin is littered with bites, especially the shoulder that was within his teeth and tongue''s reach; the outline of his teeth covered in a thin layer of his spit. 

you weakly held on to his forearms, feeling yourself creaming around it. but you just can't help it—the drag of his cock against your walls was so fucking heavenly, you could have sworn you saw white for a brief moment. 

"p , pretty cunt's all messy, baby," 

chris stammers, shamelessly moaning into your ear and immediately latching on to your earlobe, can't keep his mouth unoccupied for more than a minute. especially if it's you. he can't stop kissing you. can't stop tasting you. 

can't stop fucking you.

you were helplessly pinned beneath his body—and you didn't possess half the strength to push him off. it made your cunt twitch thinking about being trapped under him, forced to take the pleasure, forced to take the stretch of your cunt . . . 

"f , fuck! don't—don't do that. 'm gonna cum, b , baby,"

"h , huh?"

before you could question him any further, his hips began to pick up the pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin intensified. "pleeaaaasepleaseplease, Y/N," he's acting like you were stopping him from whatever he wanted to do. "please. just let me cum in you. let me breed you. fuck, fuuuck. 'm gonna make you a mama," 

there's no thought behind every word he's spewing, and his body's moving purely on feral instict. "you'd. hnnngh. oh my god—make s , such a good housewife." chris is whimpering, fucking yearning to breed you as he envisions you as his wife. mrs. redfield. you can't speak a word in his filthy rambling, but it wasn't like you had the coherence to butt in. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head and your mouth would be wide open if his arm and bicep didn't mush your cheeks together.

"oh . . oh fuck. fuck. i l , loveee you. love you . . " 

he's lost count from how many times he's confessed how much he wants to marry you, how much he loves you, and who actually keeps count, anyway. all it mattered was your pleasure and his as he pounded you into the mattress. "love you too, chris! hnnnng—♡.ᐟ" 

there's something with the way you said it, or maybe he's just that in love with you. he can't help it, his arm tightening around your neck as he buried himself deep with a loud whimper of your name. you gasped for air, feeling even more full. 

but you didn't get to cum. he doesn't feel the familiar flutter of your walls, or the feeling of you soaking his cock for the nth time. who was he, if he couldn't fuffill your needs?

even in the midst of his overstimulation, he's trying his best to keep thrusting into you. "b , baby. please, need you to cum for me," he breathed out between gasps. "gotta be a good husband. gotta make you cum," like you hadn't been squirting for him since before he had you pinned under him. 

"y, you don't have t—!"

your words are knocked out from you as he began to ram into you harder. 'till your ass was red. 'till he's finally breaking the protective barrier of your cervix. 'till you're

"cumming—♡.ᐟ "

your eyes are wide open, mouth agape and dripping with spit. your cunt's helplessly gushing for him, clenching down on him ridiculously tight. "that's it. that's it, baby. such a good baby. you're so fucking m , messy, jesus chriiist," 

your mind's gone, and so is your remaining strength, body completely enervated as your head rests on his arm. nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Chris began to place kisses on his jaw. The sensation of his rough stubble confirms you're awake, albeit feeling very lightheaded and almost dizzy. 

you don't know how long you two laid there. It was probably just minutes, but felt like hours, up until chris had pulled away from you. you feel his cum ooze out of your cunt, and you whine. 

"shh. shh. 'm here, baby. i'm here," 

chris helps flip you over to your back, and you groggily wrapped your arms around him. "are you alright?" chris caresses your cheek, before bestowing a kiss on your forehead. "i'm here. i'm here. do you want water?" 

you shook your head, only pulling him to you. he settles you under his arm, securing you with another muscular arm wrapped atop your body. "did you mean it?" you murmured weakly against his chest. chris only rubbed your back. "i wanted to be a husband?" you can feel the rumble of chris's chuckle. you nod. "of course, baby." chris tilts your chin up, tucking your locks behind your ear. 

"i love you so much. i'd love to spend the rest of eternity with you,"

you hid your face, embarrassed. "chriiiis," your boyfriend laughs at your cute reaction. "you're so cheesy," "whaaat, it's true!" you puff your cheeks out. "i'd love to spend the rest of my life with you too . . . "

good. because the ring was just resting nicely in the back of your nightstand's drawer.

ALBERT WESKER .ᐟ

wesker is strict. firm. what he says goes, beyond shadow of doubt. so when he tells you to not run your shoe up his leg, don't do it. There's a disappointed click of his tongue when your disobedience persists, your stilettos rubbing against his shin. "this is a professional dinner, Y/N." you can't see it, but you can feel his eyes piercing daggers into you. "hm?" you blink up at him so deceivingly sweet and innocent. "i know. the food tastes great, no?" you can't help but grin when you see him clench his jaw. 

wesker is strict. firm. 

but that's because there's nothing he enjoys more than breaking his brat into a drooling, mindless mess.

smack! 

"f , four!" 

you're settled on wesker's lap, legs parted as per his request ( demand, actually. ). 

you held on to your lover's arm for dear life, glancing over at your reddening cunt that Wesker's been leaving harsh spanks on. "are you gonna be good, pet?" you nodded vigorously, trying to hide the fact that your eyes were tearing up from his mean treatment. 

"really? I don't believe you."

SMACK! 

"i , i promise I won't do it again, sir!" you cried out. shutting your eyes, you braced yourself for the next slap that was to come. But you feel him slide two fingers into you instead. "you're fucking wet." Wesker spat, curling his fingers up. it squelches lewdly, your cream smearing all over his palm. "see?" It's obvious where Wesker was looking, because his other hand ensnares your jaw once he realizes your eyes had rolled back to your skull. 

"see?"

you swallowed nervously, nodding. "look at your messy fucking cunt." without any further warnings, he began to ram his fingers knuckle-deep into you. not slow or merciful, no, none of that. hard and forceful, as if to burn a lesson into that mischievous head of yours. 

"are you gonna keep acting like a brat?" Wesker growled, squishing your cheeks together with his hand. "no, sir! 'm s , sorry!" Wesker laughed at your pathetic apology, purposefully grazing his palm against your puffy clit. "I could almost feel bad for you." he cooed mockingly. "but this is your fault. the consequences of your actions." 

he continued to thrust his fingers—quite inhumanely, one might add—the room filled with the filthy harmony of your whimpers and the squelching of your pretty pussy. you're trying your very best to keep your eyes open, but the best you could do was look down at your soaking folds with a lidded gaze. it didn't help that you could feel your climax quickly building up.  "what do you say, slut?" he forces you to stay conscious, tapping your cheek with his four fingers. his thumb instinctively traced your spit-soaked lips. you're no better, parting them as soon as you feel the phalange. 

"i'm shooorry! w , won't do it again! i'll — ohmygod — be good!" 

your body shakes, a garbled squeal escaping your pretty lips as his fingertips curl up to your most sensitive spots. his gaze is to you, his pretty girl, how gorgeous you looked falling apart on him. Of course, he doesn't miss how you roll your eyes back uncontrollably. Wesker lets this slide, because he adores how fucked out you look. 

"look at me. Are you gonna cum, pet?" Wesker tantalizingly grazed the pad of his thumb against your clit. you look so pretty looking up at him with wide eyes as he urges you closer to your climax. "y , yes sir!" you whimpered. "yeah? gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty?" you nodded, and oh my days, the way you held on to his forearm and nuzzled your face into him was so fucking adorable, wesker can't help but feel the warmth spread on his cheeks. 

too bad he's still gotta discipline you. 

just as you were about to reach that delicious release, you squealed as he harshly pulled his fingers out. It leaves your cunt empty and aching. "bad girls don't get to cum on sir's fingers." 

instead, he smacks your cunt again. you clench around nothing, eyes watering as desperation ran through your veins. "pleasepleaseplease," the spanks you once dread, you were now looking for; the infliction on your clit enough to prolong your incoming orgasm. 

"wanna cum. please sir, wanna cum. pleasepleaseplease," you tugged on his arm, and wesker lets out a shaky exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. raising his hand, he strikes your cunt again, and you yelped. "you . . you like this, pet?" he won't lie, you're making his facade break."yes! please, please, i just wanna cum," you sobbed, salty tears completing your fucked out look. wesker spanks your cunt again, and again, and agai—

you screamed, with a sinful bliss trickling down your back as you arch. you're gushing everywhere, all from his mere spanking. his head dips to claim your lips, tongue first; and it doesn't surprise you when you feel him slowly stuff your mouth as his tongue elongates.

you suck on it, no matter how messy it made you: chin dribbling with sloppy drool, lipstick smearing everywhere . . . your cheeks hollow, and you groaned when his fingers began to rub figure eights on your clit again. "mffh—!" still overstimulated and aching from your ruined orgasm, your hand encircles his wrist. but you didn't possess half the strength to pry his hand away. 

he slides his creamy fingers again back into you again, back to mercilessly fingerfucking you. his tongue only muffles your cries of pleasure, and wesker can't stop literally fucking shoving his tongue down your throat. 'specially when he feels your pussy tighten up as he fills your mouth. it's so filthy, wesker knows he's fucking fantasizing about this for days on end. his cock aches, leaking pre just for you. 

only for you. 

much to your displeasure, he's emptying your mouth; monstrous tongue retracting and at the very least, allowing you to breathe. "you're gonna cum for me again, pet." he purred, licking the sweat dripping on your cheek.

"i forgive you, pretty. only if you do one thing for me." he nipped at the apple of your cheek, a grin gracing his face. you whined when he pauses, but it was to probably give you time for your mind to function. 

"who owns you?" 

you feel that flutter in your tummy, and you mutter a soft: "you do . . . "

"sorry, can't hear you. speak up, pet." 

and as if to further tease you, his fingers begin its harsh thrusting again. "y , you do!" you said in one breath, in between wails and gasping. "i do, what?" he smirked smugly, chuckling against your cheek. "you— nghggh! you—!" "i . . i what, pet?" "you own me! you own my body!" 

and of course, your body knows; cunt quivering for the second time and squirting all over his digits again. "there we go, pretty. oh, your pussy's so messy." his thumb caressed your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. you've been so good for him, he thinks you deserve it.

"there we go. i know, i know. s'too much, isn't it?" his comforting voice is so misleading, like there wasn't a lot of sadistic, unholy thoughts running through his head right now. "shh, shh. you did so well." he kindly helps you ride out your high with gentle strokes of his fingers. 

you're exhausted, mass completely resting on his frame as you tried to catch your breath. you huffed when you slowly feel him sliding his fingers out of you, the simplest movements still too much for your poor, overstimulated cunt. 

"you did so well,"

you're lucid, for the most part; feeling him turn you around so you would be facing him. He rubbed your curves, tracing the dimple on your lower back. 

"sleep, my love. i'll be here." 

JACK KRAUSER .ᐟ

you can fight with krauser with just about anything. krauser, with his hot-headedness, and you, with a similar temper and a venomous tongue. your arguments, especially the big ones, always ended up ugly. no matter how many times he held you, kissed your tears away, and apologized and vice versa, it never failed to send you crying or him walking out. 

and you don't even know why you both keep coming back to each other. giving each other chances like tomorrow will be any different. 

"i fucking hate you. i fucking hate this!" 

this was new. krauser's brows narrow together in a scowl. despite the hurl of insults you've thrown at each other, you never . . .  you never said that to him.

did you really mean that? did he really lose you this time?

you jabbed a finger on his muscular chest. "i'm fucking tired of you. i'm sick of you being so fucking angry all the time and so fucking possessive and so—!" you only just realized what you said when you saw the hurt look on krauser's face. why did he look so . . . sad? it made your heart sink in your stomach. "say that again," you begin to take a few steps back as krauser's hulking frame loomed over you like an impending doom. 

" j , jack, i—,"

your back hits the cold wall, and a pair of muscular arms cage you in place. you couldn't mutter another word when he suddenly threw your body over his shoulder. "hey!" you groaned. 

a hand slapped your clothed rear, before the both of your figures disappeared into the darkness of your bedroom. 

⟡

"say it again, i fucking dare you!"

you pretty much drooled all over the bed as krauser's big, strong hand held your head down. it made breathing more difficult, movement more restricted, but he was successful in shutting you up—which was probably krauser's goal. each slam of his cock was harder than the last, and your poor body can't keep up with krauser's rough treatment.

"you're jus' a big fuckin' brat." he growled, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust, pinning your wrists behind you. his grip was bruising. crushing, even. and very, very angry.  "need'a—oh . . . —fuck some manners into you, clearly." your moans are muffled, and you hear an amused chuckle from behind you; and without warning, he yanks your hair and forced your body to a difficult arch. . you were so beautiful in krauser's eyes.

"y'got somethin' to say, bitch?" the timbre of his hoarse voice is enough to send shivers down your spine; and of course, his pace was more merciless, more . . . . inhumane. how you were still able to form sentences—if you could call it that—you didn't know. "h, haateyouuu!" you grunt out in one breath. "no you don't, baby." both your scalp and body finds relief as he released you. if he hadn't held your hips in place, you would have collapsed on the bed. 

there's a lot of shifting behind you that you don't see, up until he forces you to flip and lay on your back. once again, you're met with that stupid shit-eating grin on his handsome, scarred face. before you can even utter an insult, you feel him deep in your fucking guts. 

he's amused at your stupefied expression—wide, gorgeous eyes with tears beading at the ends of each strand of lash. your face alone could have sent him into an orgasm, but the fun can’t end so quickly, especially when he wasn't done proving his point.  “fuck, baby. you’re so—hnngg—wet,” with that, his rough pounding resumes; the bed creaking with every reckless thrusts he gives you. 

"oh, fuck!" you cried out, instinctively reaching out to wrap your arms around him—except, it ends up having both of your wrists pinned above your head. it's quick, and you don't even register it until you realize you had nothing to scratch on. "l , let me g- oh—♡! y, you fucking prick!" "stop fucking talking, you fucking brat!" spiteful is he, his pounding picking up pace and force. it made you dizzy. made your brain mush. made you moan for him louder; and as soon as he sees that pretty tongue lull out, krauser naturally has to spit into it. and you, well, naturally swallow it. 

the way you whimpered for him, how your body was so vulnerable for him, and only for him, and so submissive under his mercy . . . it triggers something animalistic in krauser. something primal. 

he feels the cold trail of drool drip from the side of his lip, and just as you thought he couldn't fuck into you harder, he was. his tip's literally pressing into your cervix. "you're g , gonna break me—♡!" krauser keeps rutting into you like a starved beast, the pleasure so fucking addicting. 

"gonna—," his words are interrupted by low growls and heavy breathing. "gonna fucking ruin you. you're mine," your pussy shouldn't reflexively clamp down on him, but it fucking does, and he loves it. "take it back."

you blink.

. . . huh?

"i didn't —god, fucking stutter. take it back!" "i don't — ahnnn— hate you!" krauser shakes his head. "no, no. t , that's not enough," you squealed when his thumb rolls over your clit. "say you love me," the added sensation makes you scream. "say you fucking love me, please," krauser whined, and you didn't know you liked that until . . now. 

"quit fucking around, Y/N!" he impatiently snarled, grabbing your thighs and pushing it to its limit; 'till your ankles were beside your ears. "w , wait—oh fuuuuck—♡!" stars fill your vision as soon as his cock slams back into you. "say you love me, c'moooon, don't be fucking stubborn," 

how could you say it, when each slam of his hips drew out nothing but fucked out whimpers from you? "i love you," yet, he fucked you like he hated you. and you despised the way it made your cunt flutter as it promises both you and him an orgasm. 

"yeah? you like that? i love you," as if your folded position wasn't difficult enough, him leaning down to capture your lips just makes you even more breathless. but you kiss him back. your lips yearn for him like air, and the best you could reciprocate it was a mere glide of your wet muscle; to which krauser didn't really mind. 

"i love you—! fucking love you, love f , fucking you." he says, thrusts frantic and relentless. "love , , l , love—," you pant, nails sinking into his forearms. "i love . .  fuck, fuuuuuck— i love you too—," you've never heard krauser whine that loud, but he does, sloppily thrusting into you as his orgasm takes over; cumming the hardest he's ever been.

"come on, baby. cum for me," he whimpered, face contorting in overstimulated bliss as he continued his thrusts. seeing him this needy and desperate to make you feel good made your stomach flutter.  "i love you," he whispered, placing kisses on your temple, on your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.

"s , soooo fucking much,"

the way the tip grazes again and again and fucking again on your most sensitive. deepest parts makes you squeal, makes you wail. only he could reduce you to this whimpering mess. "'m close, baby. right there. don't stop—♡!" 

ragged breaths and feral grunts turn into high-pitched whining, krauser's cock aching from pleasure. too much pleasure. but his hips won't stop moving, can't stop driving himself deeper into you. "love you—love youuu," you babbled mindlessly, completely forgetting whatever grievance you held for him, and vice versa. his cock aches. throbs. the sensitivity should be too much, but his hips keep slamming into you.

and judging how he doesn't look any less tired . . . you were in for a long, long night.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA .ᐟ

carlos pretty much worships the ground you walk on. he thinks you're the best thing that has happened to him, and my god, this man will spoil you rotten. the moment his eyes laid upon your gorgeous face, he knew he didn't want to live in cold, cruel, Y/N-less world. after your second date, he's made up his mind. he will marry you, in due time. 

for now, he can settle with the domestic life of living together, doing your groceries together, cleaning the house to your favourite songs and slow dancing mid-vacuum.

"hey babe?"

"yeah?"

he switches the vacuum off, the shiny foil atop your night table catching carlos's eye. if he's not mistaken, this was your birth control. upon a closer look, it seemed . . . untouched. was this an old batch? did you forget? he looks over at you, putting away your clothes in the closet. 

"babe, it's your birth control pills!" he exclaimed, brows narrowing with concern. "have you been taking them?" it was only when you've finished up your chore did you turn to your boyfriend, looking at your pills, and then at his face. "those are my contraceptives, yes . . and no, why?" the lack of worry in your voice calms carlos a bit, blinking at your nonchalance. "but, babe—," "wait, i haven't told you yet?" your laughter mixes with your words. "told me what?"

you took it upon yourself to close the remaining distance between the both of you, cradling his face with your warm hands. "carlos,"—you reached over for your medication and put them aside. "i've stopped taking birth control, baby. since like, two weeks ago. i thought i told you, but i must've forgotten . . . " 

there's so many thoughts running in his head. thinkin' how gorgeous you'd be during your wedding day. when you're finally pregnant and bearing his child. how he'd be calling you his wife and not his girlfriend anymore. how he'd be a husband to you, and a father . . 

"—earth to carlos. hellooo?" 

"what?"

he blinked, realizing you were waving a hand in front of his face. "you said something about wanting to start a family some day . . it doesn't have to be now, but if it happens, then . . " you shrugged. 

what do you mean it doesn't have to be now?

it has to be now. 

⟡

he has to plunge his cock balls deep in you now. even if his previous creampies were already leaking out from your pretty hole. he needed to breed you over and over again now. he reveled in the sight of you; with your hair sticking to your skin from how much you were sweating, how your tits bounced with every thrust forward with his hips, how your lips were hanging agape from pure bliss . . you are so, so pretty in his eyes. prettier when you're thoroughly fucked and bred.

carlos could only groan, feeling your cunt twitch around his cock. he kept watching you writhe, kept watching you squirm beneath him because he just fucked you so good—but the squelch reverberating from beneath you catches his attention. hazel eyes begin to trail down your body, down to your pretty cunt where you were the messiest. slick smeared to wherever it could, and your poor clit was puffy from how many times he's ran a thumb over it . . .  but that didn't seem to stop him from doing so for the nth time. just to see your legs quiver, to see your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull.

"carlooos—♡," you whined, hips bucking against the sensation. "'m here, mama. jus' let it out," he mumbled in his pussydrunk stupor. seeing how you couldn't even mutter his name properly did things to carlos—fueling his lust was one of them; his grip on the back of your knees become tighter—and the slamming of his hips was more brutal, trying to fuck his cum back in you like he wasn't already doing that for the past hour. 

"ah! ahn—you're so rough!" you whimpered, and carlos only lets out a dry chuckle. "h-haah . . i-i have to be. or else you—," his words are abruptly interrupted by a loud groan as he forces his cock as deep as he could, just for emphasis. "you . . won't be knocked up," he whined, balls twitching as it ached to cum into your womb again. "c'mon, mama. get pregnant. fuuuuck, jesus christ—," 

he could feel himself drooling as he ruts into you desperately. "c'mere, cariño," you went from having your knees pressed to your chest to being completely folded in half. his face is buried in your neck, and his hands—no—his arms have moved to cradle your head, his chest taking over for him as your legs rest nicely on his shoulders. his tongue is all over your flesh, lazily lapping up your neck and sweat. the new position has him fucking deeper—literally. feels like his tip was gonna force itself up in your poor cervix. it was suffocating, but. but you craved it. you yearned for it. 

you needed it.

his hips were clearly hurting and fatigued, because every brutal slam down into you would result to him grunting and whining. his tongue's cold against your neck, spanish words whispered against it while he busied himself pounding away at your pretty, creamy pussy. nothing was stopping him from breeding you, from stuffing you full, not even the pain that pooled both in his hips and your thighs.  

"your pussy’s so goooood, fuck . . love you, i love you. dios .  . dios mio, no puedo dejar de follarte. quiero d , dejarte embarazada, mi amor." you couldn't understand his mindless spanish babbling—not with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. "wh , what . . ?" "shh, baby." —it's followed by more spanish muttering that you can't follow. not that there was anythin' going on in that pretty head of yours. 

[ god . .  oh my god . . i can't stop fucking you. i want to get you pregnant, my love. ]

there was nothing going on in his head, either. just the thoughts of you knocked up—everyone would know you belonged to him, that he fucked you, that you made him a father—it only fueled the never ending lust that he had no strength to resist. "oh my fucking god, baby, fuuuck!" his face scrunches up as he speeds up, and you didn't even know that was fucking possible. your eyes widened, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening 'til it snapped; your orgasm spraying all over yourself and him as you screamed. "so messy, h-haah, f, fuck!" "carlos, m, my cunt—!" you could no longer find the words to say to him, stars filling your vision. you swore you were going to pass out. 

your cunt was sensitive, obviously, but carlos was beyond overstimulated—it hurts—his cock hurts after cumming and cumming and cumming in you, but the way your creamy walls hugged his cock was enough compensation. he won't stop. can't bring himself to stop. because everytime his cock slid back into you, your pathetic cunt only squirts in small fountains, dragging out your orgasm and only allowing him to slide in and out of you easily.  "gonna cum. 'm cumming," his whines grew sharper, getting higher and higher as his orgasm neared. his hold around your head tightened, and you could only bite and lick at the skin of his chest as his frame practically eclipsed over your frame.

"Y/N—god. 'm cumming. gonna breed you. gonna—g, gonna get you pregnant! dios mio, Tu coño se siente genial—," stuffing your fucking cunt to the fullest, he cried out your name as he came; this was the hardest he's cummed, experiencing heaven as he sloppily rode out his orgasm with shallow, sloppy thrusts. he greedily wanted more, but god, he's sure he can't cum anymore after this. he's not even sure if he can lift his hips to pull out his veiny, girthy cock out of your dripping pussy. 

you're barely conscious—so close to passing out when you feel a hand on your cheek, fingers worriedly tapping you awake. "baby?" his voice echoed in your ears, and you opened your heavy lids, vision adjusting to the sight of him. "come back to me," he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses. "carlos." you chuckled weakly. you only just realized that you did pass out, because you don't remember carlos putting down your legs or covering you both with your comforter. "i got worried." carlos lays beside you, pulling you beside him. "slept good?" he teases, and you only grumbled. you feel his stubble graze your brow as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "did i get too carried away?" "you don't say," you both chuckled. "'m sleepy," you mutter, wrapping an arm around him. and the only response you got from him? a light snore. you can't help but laugh to yourself. 

end.

A/N: such a wild prompt TT but i hope you enjoyed! thank you to my beta reader, @lafox-chan for proofreading and helping me!

and here's a blooper while we were working on it!

[leonsgfpost]

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Leon experiences a good dose of jealousy.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: Leon (RE6) x fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampies, jealousy, hair pulling, overstimulation.

Leon swears he isn't a jealous man, he is an adult and responsible man. Jealousy he considers silly, for insecure or stupid guys. And he's nothing like that. But there's something about how his fingers seem to tingle every time another guy gets too close or talks to you like he knows everything about you. They don't know you like he knows you, no one does it like he does.

He hates how they make excuses to touch you, brush your shoulder or your hand, maybe.

He hates how some turn their head to look at the pretty little thing walking hand in hand.

Hate how the coffee shop worker down the street smiles too much at you or draws a little heart next to your name on the coffee cup.

He hates all that shit.

But, wait, he's not a jealous man.

So, why is he ramming you like he hates you? Like you did something wrong? It wasn't your fault that man tried to get a few smiles out of you by making dumb jokes. That man even had the audacity to run his fingers through a lock of your hair.

The same hair he was pulling mercilessly right now, clutching his fingers between your silky soft locks and burying your face in the sheets. Too bad, he won't be kind tonight.

You let out a small sob as you felt his fingers circle your clit again, with hard, firm strokes. Asking, no, demanding that you give him another orgasm. Which one was it? The second or the third? You were already too fucked up to be able to think of anything else.

"Come on, aren't you smiling anymore? huh?" He asks, almost indignantly. His heavy breathing brushed against your back, feeling him settle in so he could keep up with the brutal rhythm of his cock quickly burying itself in your pretty pussy. If you were a little more conscious, you'd start thinking about his words. What the hell is he talking about? You don't know.

But he knows, and he knows it well.

"What's the matter? H-Have you already gone dumb for a little attention?" his words dripped sarcasm, annoyance. His fingers released your clitoris, running his hand wet with your discharge up your abdomen to cup one of your breasts.

"Leon-! D-Don't stop, don't stop..." You mumbled completely dizzy without paying attention to his words, burying your flushed face in the unraveling sheets. Your fingers clutched at the sheets as if your life depended on it.

No matter how rough, you loved it. What more would a girl want than for her big, big boyfriend to ruin her tight little pussy? Exactly.

"I'm the only one, r-right? This pretty pussy belongs to me, I'll take care of branding it." he murmured, straightening her back a little. His hand released your hair, finally. Lowering both of his hands to your hips.

"Hold on, babe. Fuck-" He said, almost teasingly and you knew he had that cocky smile on his lips. His fingers dug into your hips, starting to push back your body to meet his onslaught. You could swear you could feel it in your stomach.

His head fell back and his jaw relaxed, lost in the ecstasy of the pleasure of your wet, tight walls fluttering around his cock eager to hit that sweet spot inside you. That spot that only he knows. Only him.

He furrows his brows as he feels his dick begin to jerk inside you, quivering as he stretches your walls like his favorite activity. He lowers his narrowed eyes, heavy with pleasure to your pussy watching the semen from his previous loads splatter your thighs from the force of his thrusts. What a mess, right? He was a disastrous man. He would be almost embarrassed if you caught him in the middle of his little tantrum.

"Oh, Honey, Honey, Honey..." Leon's hoarse huskiness became almost sticky, feeling his brain melt as his dick ached with how sensitive it was, its dripping tip focused on being able to give you another load.

"God, God, this pussy... This-Fuck..." He couldn't even finish his sentences. His gasps echoed in the room, along with the slaps of his full, straining balls slapping against the wetness of your skin.

He leaned forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder and pushed his chest hard against your back, pinning your body in an almost animalistic way so he could empty his balls inside you. You heard him moan in an almost embarrassed way, you could tease him later.

His hips kept thrusting little thrusts, almost in an agonizing way trying to push more of his thick cum inside you, wanting to fill every space of the pussy he loved so much.

His little punishment didn't go very far, because the one who ended up fucked and with his balls as empty as his head, was him. You've got this man ruined.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: special mention to @ilylovelyz thanks for the idea and the support 🫶🏼💕💕

(💌) bye, bye !

[servicpop]

kinktober extra — gun play leon s. kennedy x bttm male reader

ⓘ neighbour (slight ooc) leon ! clothed leon naked reader ! he puts the gun up your ass

The outbreak was doing you no good, and the fact that you were all alone when all went to hell wasn't helping much either. However, being locked in the safety of your home gave you time to hideout while the worst washed over. Though eventually, you were forced outside to scavenge for food. Unlocking your front door as delicate as tip toeing around a sleeping lion, you quietly stepped outside the comfort of your home.

You were fortunate enough to be greeted with desolate streets; only the occasional ripped up paper or trash rolled across the ground. You had almost nothing, not even a gun, just a baseball bat you bought awhile ago to play with your friends once, only to never touch it again until now. At least you took the time to impale nails to add a little more offense to your weapon.

After some soft crunching of gravel under your feet and walking through eerily quiet roads, you were met with a convenience store. The neon signs were busted and didn't glow anymore but you were able to make out some un-raided shelves behind the shattered windows.

You pushed on the front door, the quiet jingle of the door opening made you jump out your skin for a second, why'd the bell still work despite everything else being broken? You tried to keep your footsteps light, navigating around the fallen shelves and racks on the floor. Seeing a few canned foods still untouched and packets of chips as well as some beverages, you felt a twinge of relief wash over you. This was probably enough for you to not go outside for a few weeks.

You decided to walk behind the register, searching for some candy or others that would be stocked there. With no luck your eyes met the employees only door, slightly ajar. Clutching your bat in your right hand, you slowly opened the door before you were met with a light tap on your forehead. A gun, held by a blonde man who seemed to have seen it all.

“A survivor? I feel like its been ages since I've seen another living human being,” He sighed, lowering his weapon and pulling you into the room by your arm. You felt him pause abruptly once getting a good look at your face and you blinked away your initial fear upon having a gun pointed to your head.

“Oh, you're my neighbour aren't you?” The corners of Leon's lips twitched into a slight curve but not enough to be counted as a wholehearted smile.

“Leon? I thought everyone in the neighbourhood turned,” You on the other hand couldn't help but smile seeing a familiar face after fully believing you were the only human left on earth. You take a small glance around the room, noting the equipment stuffed into one corner and a makeshift sleeping bag as well as a first aid kit that had been visibly used.

You knew he was an agent from having small chats over the fence, and from the looks of things, even those who undergo arduous training suffered — even if it was a little bit more bearable for them than others.

Leon's grip eventually loosens and he turns his back to you as he walks to the far wall, sliding down against it into a seated position. From here, the bandaged up gash on his side peeks out from the rips of his shirt. That's why the glass was as broken as it was, it was a sign of Leon's fight with the undead.

Following in his footsteps you go to sit down beside him, pulling your knees to your chest as you turn to look at him. His eyebags have never been darker and there's a frown that stains his face. Leon breaks the silence while pulling his knee up to rest his arm on it, his gun clacking as he moved.

“So, it's just you?” He questions, and you can hear the awkwardness in his voice. He's never been a good talker, everytime you met him while on a walk thr conversations usually ended with a quick excuse to pull away from it. You blame it on him having to see more horrors than the average person.

“Is that a bad thing?” You mean it in a playful way, placing your hands over your knees as a cushion for your cheek to rest on. You almost burst out laughing when you see Leon tense and you can practically see the panic that he's offended you in his eyes.

“No— No, not at all,” he tries to defend himself.

“Would you rather that flower girl who lives down the street?” It's a running joke that the neighbourhood shares of Leon that the big, cold agent is in love with the soft, florist girl.

He shoots you a glare, one that shows just how many times he's heard it over and over again. Instead of replying, he turns his head with a scoff like a bunny stomping its foot angrily. You brush it off as well after seeing his lack of a response and your eyes draw to the gun that's still held firmly in Leon's hand. It would be handy for you to learn how to use one since the bat won't always be useful.

“Do you think you could maybe teach me how to use that?” You ask almost hesitantly, fiddling with your fingers in a nervous habit.

“The gun?” Leon questions, tilting the gun so he could look at it properly. One part of him doesn't want you to use it, it creates an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach seeing a guy like you hold such a murderous weapon. The other part knows it's for the best, for your own protection when he has to part ways with you. After a minute of just staring at the gun, he finalises his decision.

“Sure, I guess you'll need it in the future,” he groans as he stands back up, hand on his thigh like he was an old man getting up from his rocking chair. He tousels his wispy blonde hair, combing it back with his fingers before focusing his attention on you.

His thick black eyelashes flutter as he stares at your face for a second, walking up to you and caging your hands in his. He guides your hands to the pistol, letting you feel the cold metal to familiarise yourself. He doesn't say a thing while he lets you feel the barrel and the grip. The grip feels almost scratchy which he lightly scoffs at your expression when your fingers ghosted over the texture.

“That's why my hands are all calloused,” he faces his palm up, showing you his toughened palm while he flexes his fingers.

“You have to hold it like this, firm grip, two hands.” Leon helps to guide your hands in place, adjusting your fingers and your wrist.

He whispers under his breath “Just like that,” watching as you hold the gun straight, aiming at the blank wall. You know it's best not to fire, though, that would attract whatever monster lays outside. The gun trembles, shaking like a stripped leaf, and you realise that your hands are quivering. You're not cut out for this. You feel the weight of Leon's hand lower the gun and he gently slips the weapon away from your hands and into his.

“You have to get desensitised to it, who knows what might happen without me,” Leon's eyebrows furrow and his nose creases from the pure thought of you getting captured and held at gun-point. It wasn't far from what could actually happen either considering the law was disregarded the moment people started eating eachothers brains.

Leon raises the pistol and presses the muzzle to your adams apple, feeling it bob from your swallows.

“Does it scare you?” It's not a threatening statement, it's him asking how you really feel having the gun pressed up against your skin. The hitch of your breath goes unnoticed as Leon drags the pistol lower to your chest. With the way he's looking down, you can see his dark eyelashes, a sliver of his muted blue iris' peeked through. He really was handsome.

“Or is it because you trust me that much?” The question jolts you out of your little trance, he was only your neighbour yet you didn't seem to react in fear when he held the gun to you.

“Maybe,” you breath out, letting your gaze flutter to the pistol dragging down your chest. Leon pulls it away before bringing it up and tapping the flat side of the barrel against your cheek. There's a certain look in his eyes, its almost pitiful like a hunter watching the deer caught in the net lay completely still, unfazed.

Leon leans closer to your face, his nose practically brushing against yours. You could almost make out the faint breaths if you listened close enough and you see his tongue dart out to wet his lips before he swallowed thickly.

“I think you're liking this a little too much,” he mutters, tilting his head slightly to the right as he looks down at you, his hair falling to the direction he moves his head at. The way Leon speaks now is hushed, sultry even. He's only half joking, he sees the way your eyelids flicker a little too rapidly when he glides the muzzle over your clothes.

Your face flushes, realising that he's caught on your little inner turmoil.

“It's just the adrenaline.” You swallow your lie like it's medication; it's hard to go unnoticed when you so obviously gulp. It's not fully a lie though — you've read in a previous article things like erections can happen due to adrenaline. You squeeze your eyes shut, almost like you're preparing to be scolded by Leon.

But all you're met with is a small sigh and a shake of his head.

“If you want it, do it quickly, we won't have time to indulge in distractions in the heat of things.” Your eyes fling open, caught off guard by the fact that the Leon, your neighbour, just gave you the greenlight. You look up at him through your lashes and he returns your gaze with a small glint of reciprocating desire. The absence of an opportunity for sex really catches up when you're surrounded by infected and never in a safe position.

Before you can even say anything, Leon is already slipping off your shirt; your jacket had already been discarded when you entered the employee's only room. He takes a moment to skim over your naked body, observing all the dips and curves, and the fact that your blush reaches all the way down to your shoulders. He brushes the muzzle over your chest, and upon seeing you shiver at the coolness, a smirk quirks on his lips.

“Cold?”

“Yeah,”

You whine, gripping his forearm in a lousy attempt to stop him from rubbing the metal on your nipple. It doesn't stop him though, he gently grazes your perky buds, chuckling softly as he watches your eyebrows knit from the feeling.

“Sorry then,” he hums with amusement coloring his tone. Leon's breath becomes shallower as he trails the gun down along the line in the middle of your abdomen, all the way down to your pants.

“You're going to be the death of me,” He grunts out, delicately guiding you to lean against the wall. His arm is wrapped so securely around your back like a warm embrace. The warmth of his arm around your bare back shields you from the frigid material of the wall but the second he slips it away from you your back arches off uncomfortably.

“Bare it,” Leon pushes you back against the wall and you whimper at the cold. Its somewhat cruel how he's doing this but you understand its to get your body used to the harsh changes in environments. He mumbled small praises that are inaudible to your ears but you can barely make out the words 'good boy.'

His fingers tug at your zipper, pulling it down but you reach out to stop him, noticing how he's not taking any of his clothes off. Like he was reading your mind, Leon scoffs with a small smirk.

“I can't, it's too risky to have to put anything on if we get ambushed,” He links his fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your boxers, stretching it out a bit before pulling them down to rest at your mid thigh.

“But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself,” He places one arm at the side of your head, caging it in, and his other weilds the pistol. He can't take off his clothes so he can't fuck you properly but he resorts to using his gun instead. It's shameless with the way he's spreading the soft flesh of your thighs apart with a gun like he was slotting his dick between them.

His eyes aren't on you, they're on your body, carefully sliding the hunk of metal against your hole. It almost hurts with how dry and cold the metal feels against your skin but you don't complain. Leon muses when he sees your cock twitch when he slides the muzzle up from the base to your pink tip. He quirks an eyebrow at you, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Feels weird doesn't it? Promise once we're out of this shithole I'll give you everything you want,” Again, Leon goes off about something in the future. He's thinking of a future with you after things smooth over, you can't help but bite back the small moan you were going to let out. His bangs are now covering his eyes when he returns his gaze to your lower half.

Your hips instinctively move against the barrel of the gun, sliding yourself against it. Its like the pleasure is almost there but not really, its left you struggling to find good friction. Leon notices your strangled whines and contorted face and he feels slightly guilty for not being able to give you the relief you definitely need.

He spits on the gun, lubing it up and taking a mental note to polish and clean it afterwards. Leon tilts the muzzle up, wriggling it past your tight rim. When the tip of gun enters you, you gasp, straightening your body from the foreign object being stuffed in your ass.

“Leon—” your voice cracks.

“Trust me.”

He can hear the slight panic in your voice and his palm moves to cover your eyes. You're squirming, unsure of whether to lean in or pull away from the sensation. He pushes himself up against you to keep you still since his hands are already full. Leon groans gently at how much warmth he can feel seeping into his clothes from your body heat.

He slowly pushes the gun further, tuning into the soft squelching sounds of the metal making its way through your walls. Leon couldn't deny that he was a bit jealous of how his pistol was able to feel your wet walls clenching around it rather than himself.

“Shit, you're taking it better than I thought,” He grumbled under his breath, thrusting the metal into you, attempting to push it even deeper to find your sweet spot. Leon finally moved his hands from your eyes and placed his hand on your waist, extending his thumb to rub circles over your stomach. He twists the gun inside you, flushing against your prostate. The sudden jolt of pleasure caused you to cry out and reach to grab his shoulders.

He pushed against your prostate a few times, observing how your eyes would water with each thrust and how your teeth would bite down even harder on your bottom lip the more he hit that specific spot. He slowly pulled the gun fully out with a small pop.

“Didn't know that would work,” He joked lightly, slotting the gun between your legs once more and squeezing your thighs together. He threw the gun from one hand into the other, gripping the pistol in his left hand. Leon slid his ring and middle finger alongside your ass, dipping down the curve to meet your already stretched hole. He dipped his fingers inside, already burying his fingers up to his knuckles.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling his fingers up to press against the deepest parts of you. Leon dragged the gun back and forth between your thighs, letting you hump the metal like a dog.

“Attaboy,” he chuckled darkly, moving his fingers faster, practically slapping his palm against your tail bone as he fingered you from behind. Pre-cum started to bead off your slit and smeared all over Leon's gun.

“You're already getting so wet,” he shook his head, feigning disappointment as he moved the gun to trace your tip, ghosting over your skin.

You whined and thrashed from the ticklish sensation, but when you tried to lean away from it, you ended up pushing up against Leon's fingers, letting them reach even deeper.

“Leon,” you mewl, gripping his shoulders desperately as your dick twitches feverishly. “'M gonna cum.”

Your soft whimpers undoubtedly got his dick hard and he swore if you kept up with the whining he'd really just take off his pants and fuck the life out of you. Leon didn't respond, he just swallowed a groan and curled his fingers to your prostate.

Feeling that familiar spark in your veins, your body convulsed and you let out a high-pitched moan, blanking out as you shot ropes of cum out, dirtying Leon's gun with white.

“I got you, I got you, don't worry,” He felt your legs give out and quickly caught you, letting you lean on him while you came down from your high. Leon pulled the gun from your legs, turning it side to side and watching as your semen dripped down the sides.

Would it even work anymore?

[cuteandhughesy]

‘I Knew They Didn’t Actually Hate Each Other!’ ╰┈➤ LD29

summary: lauren and connor mcdavid have very different reactions when finding out their best friends don't actually hate one another.

[word count] 2.8k

warnings: kissing | swearing | mature dialogue

a/n: a requested follow up part to couldn’t make it any harder! this is short and sweet but i’m absolutely certain this is how these interactions would go down if this was real life situation. ENJOY MY LEON GIRLIES 🧡💙

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

lauren knew.

okay, well, no she didn't know. but your best friend had a good incline that you were seeing some one.

it started with the smaller details. there was always fresh flowers—beautiful, expensive ones at that—on your kitchen countertop, accompanied by one of those little card holders. the note is always missing, meaning that you've put it somewhere. to which lauren says, suspicious.

less movie nights at lauren's because 'you're swamped with work.' more like swamped with sex. and you're always smiling, even when everyone is out together.

which unless lauren is fucking crazy and is completely remembering the past 7 years or so incorrectly, that was totally unheard of—especially when leon draisital is in the vicinity.

and lauren's pretty sure that she saw a hickey on your boob when your tank top shifted during hot yoga two weeks ago.

the math was just mathing, okay!

it started after the wedding. where as lauren was hungover and still wearing what felt like a million pounds of makeup from the night before, you waltzed into the room with a glow and a smile on your fresh face.

she'd honestly brushed that incident off until everything else starting falling into place like the perfect puzzle—but then lauren got to thinking. did you meet someone that night?

lauren has spent the past two months racking her brain for answers—answers to a question she wasn't going to ask you yet, because obviously she was determined to figure it out on her own before all else.

it was like the damn bachelorette in her head as lauren mentally assessed every single guy she and connor had at their wedding—trying to pinpoint which ones would capture her best friends attention enough for it to stick.

but no matter how many times lauren tried to work it all out, she came up short for answers.

you and this secret relationship are a mystery to her.

so it was this random september afternoon that lauren mcdavid decided she was going to get her answers—hold you down and physically pull them from your tongue if she has to. because your best friend is sick of being in the dark, especially when she knows….something is going on.

she can feel it in her damn gut.

so with an extra tight ponytail and her purse swinging loosely at her side, lauren knocks on your apartment door—so loud and aggressively that she almost scares herself. it's rather comical in the way she jerks her hand away from the wood at the sound.

she knows your home. wednesday's are your half days, meaning you only work in the morning. this time of year, just before the hockey season really starts up, connor's days are similar. and that’s how lauren remembers said information.

lauren was tempted to wait for her husband to get back from his suit fitting and make him come with her to your place—because like the whole good cop, bad cop idea sounded really appealing in her head—but lauren was too impatient.

she knocks again after a beat passes without any sound or sign of movement. it's only then that she hears your shaky voice through the door.

"sorry, one second!"

she squints incredulously at the door, even though you can't see her, her arms crossed over her chest like an impatient child. and sure, maybe she is impatient, but lauren feels that it's justified if you're keeping damn secrets from her like a freak.

finally, the apartment door is hastily pulled open, a gust of air pulling in the space between you and your best friend like the beginning of a storm. and perhapes lauren should've taken that as a sign.

at the sight of her, your eyes widen slightly, a wave of panic settling over your already frantic tainted features. you're slightly breathless, tank top a little askew like you've only just pulled it over the black bra lauren can see adorning your chest.

"hey," you greet, running a hand through your tousled hair, "I wasn't expecting you."

lauren's gaze narrows as she takes in your state, "I know. thought i'd drop in."

"oh," you swallow before giving a short laugh, "i'm actually just about to head out." another laugh, "yeah i'm just...I need eggs."

"eggs?"

"yeah!" you nod with seemingly panicked enthusiasm before giving a quick glance over your shoulder. you think it's discrete enough, but lauren catches it. 

she gives you a once over again, eyes trickling all the way down to your bare feet. it's then that lauren notices the shoes left hazardly by the front door. men's sneakers—men's sneakers that have been seemingly removed in a hast to be exact.

her lips part in shock, a tiny strangled gasp leaving her mouth as her eyes dart back to yours. "you're seeing someone! and he's in here right now, isn't he?"

this time, it's your turn to gasp. "i'm not seeing anyone!"

lauren raises a brow, "oh yeah?"

"yeah."

"okay, then who got you those flowers on your island?"

your jaw goes slack, mouth opening like you want to rattle off some sort of excuse, but the words never come.

lauren continues once she sees the little beige envelope still perched next to the beautiful arrangement of florals—pushing her way into your apartment like a woman on a mission. and that she is. "if you're not going to tell me, i'll just take a peek at that little card, mhm?"

"no!"

you dart past her, snatching the note before she has a chance to grab it.

and that’s the moment lauren’s knows that’s she’s been right all along. she makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh, dropping her expensive handbag to your barstool roughly. "okay, fine. i'll just find him then. 'cause I know he's in here."

"trust me when I tell you, this is not the way you want to meet him."

she stops walking, spinning on her heels as her inspector gadget brain starts up again. all half sarcastic hostility leaving her body as straight curiosity takes over—"so I haven't meet him before? because I've been trying to work out for the past few months if it was somebody at the wedding."

your eyes widen, "you've been sitting on this for months?"

"yeah! and it's been a damn uncomfortable seat because you didn't have the gut to just tell me about him," she trails off, "is he like a criminal or something?"

"no." you're quick to answer, "i'm pretty sure we'd both know that by now if that was the case." your slip up has your tongue going dry, eyes widening to a certain point that it looks painful.

"ha!" lauren points an accusing finger in your direction, "so I do know him."

"yes," you croak out, "but seriously let's just sit down and talk about this before you start searching my place like you're a FBI agent."

lauren doesn't even wait for you to finish before she's walking through your place, opening and closing closet doors on her way down the hall like a search dog. much to her dismay, the linen closet is empty, as well as the space you keep your holiday decorations.

the lack of man makes her scowl.

you're hot on lauren's heels, a blabbing mess of half strung together pleas falling on deaf ears as lauren pushes open your bedroom door.

there's a pair of jeans on the floor, half kicked under the bed like you—or whoever this man is—tried to hide them in a hurry. "is he in here?" lauren shoots you a pointed look. you wince, and she gets her confirmation. "is he in your closet?"

"i'm telling you right now, lauren, don't open the closet."

"i'm definitely going to open it."

and she does. and the sight before her immediately ignites a sound that can only be described as a wail. lauren shuts the closet door, a hand over her mouth while she blinks in a half shell shocked way.

a tense beat passes with lauren just staring off into space, and you anxiously biting the skin around your thumb nail, nervous gaze never once flickering from your best friend.

leon slips out between your closet doors a moment later, dressed in only his boxers. he has an awkward smile on his face and a hand cupping over his semi hard junk—trying to conceal all that from his teammates wife.

"hey lauren, how's it going?"

"what the fuck!" she gasps, looking between you both.

"you?"

you grimace, but nod.

"and you?"

leon nods.

“oh my god,” lauren fans her face, a dramatic flare that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing. “I think I'm going to pass out.”

you, used to and recognizing her said dramatics, don’t respond. but leon fully begins to freak out, eyes widening as he eases towards your best friends pacing form—large hands that minutes ago were down your pants, held out cautiously.

“you need sit down.”

lauren holds her hand up, halting your boyfriend in his tracks. “no, I can't—this is too much.” she begins fanning herself again, “when did this start happening?”

“what part?”

you shoot him a half stern look, “leon.”

“how many parts are there?”

“well we kissed when you locked us in your bedroom.” leon says often handily, like he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on this entire situation.

lauren gasps again—because what do you mean you guys kissed before the wedding? before today. “what?!” she all but squawks, big blue eyes darting between the two of you like you’ve just committed a crime.

she pauses, thinking back on that moment when she’d let you and leon out of her bedroom that day many weeks ago. were your lips swollen? was leon’s hair a mess? were you guys kissing when the door was opened?

it’s hard for lauren to recall when leon’s deep, gravely voice continues—“and we hooked up in muskoka.”

another gasp, louder and sharper than ever as lauren spins on her heels, focusing her attention solely on you—which really works in her favour considering leon is still half naked.

“I knew it started at the wedding! god, I didn't even consider leon. and for good reason! I thought you guys hated each other.”

“we did!” you confirm.

“actually for the record,” leon interjects cautiously, “I never hated her.”

“of course you didn’t.” lauren lets out a disbelieving sigh, running a small hand over her makeup free face while digesting the flurry of emotions coursing through her.

she looks between you both once again, a softer expression beginning to take over her sharp features. “so you guys are..?”

you swallow, “dating.”

“like dating dating.”

you cringe at the highschool tone of it all, giving leon a wtf squint. “were in love,” you elaborate after a second, eyes slowly falling back in line with your best friend.

she makes a noise, “oh god, this is like straight out of a romance novel. I kind of feel like i've got whiplash.” lauren rolls her lips together, “why did you guys hide this from me?”

the vulnerability lacing her words makes your heart squeeze, and the way her eyebrows draw upwards like a sad cartoon character only amplifies the feeling.

regardless of the guilt rattling your bones, you and leon had good reason for keeping the beginning stages of your relationship a secret—not just from lauren, but from everyone. reasons you immediately begin rattling off, and this time the panic is in your voice.

“it was your wedding! and for the first little bit we didn't know how to navigate everything.”

leon chimes in before you can blink, coming to your defense like he’s been doing for years—since before you even realized he was doing so. “and we spent years bickering and fighting and we just wanted to keep everything in the down low until we found our rythym.”

“yeah, and it just felt good—we were just ours.” you exhale loudly, running a hand over the flat of your stomach as if to soothe the wave of nausea, your eyes never once parting from your best friends. “i'm sorry, lauren.”

she nods, a natural glint in her eyes. “you guys are some of my best friends. i'm not mad...I just wish you felt like you could've told me.”

“I was a shitty friend,” you admit gently, chewing the skin of your cheek anxiously.

it’s instantly that lauren waves your comment off, padding on the carpeted bedroom floor to close to space between you. and she just hugs you, so tightly that it almost hurts, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“no, you could never be,” she mutters, “and this will definitely take me at least a week to digest but...i'll get over it.” the playful tone that lauren usually possesses eases back into her voice. “you guys look hot together.”

you practically snort, “thanks.”

she hums before her eyes drift back towards your boyfriend. “now leon please put your pants back on.”

“don't have to tell me twice,” leon breathes, already retrieving his discarded jeans from under your bed frame, tugging them up his thick legs in a way that makes you drool.

lauren pulls back from the hug, her small hands still holding onto your arms as a excitable grin pulls at the corner of her plump lips. “okay, now, tell me how leon confessed that he loved you.”

“oh god.” leon groans from behind the material of his t-shirt, only half way over his head.

but you just match her grin, thinking back to the night under the stars and the warm muskoka air. “you're going to die!”

—

it’s only a week after lauren forcing her way into your apartment and quite literally exposing you and a half naked leon into spilling the beans about your relationship, that connor finds out.

which, you’re surprised lauren didn’t spill the beans before then, especially considering her and her husband are still in that lovey dovey newly wed phase that makes them literally do and share every single thing with one another.

not that you can really say anything about being in a honeymoon phase, because you and leon are so deep in it that it’s almost embarrassing—you can’t recall a day since that night in muskoka that you haven’t been touching or kissing leon in some way.

anyways.

you and leon both decided that telling connor needed to be more of a formal conversation—compared to the way lauren found out, for example. so, you planned a dinner at leon’s condo and invited the happy couple over.

lauren, obviously sitting on this secret was practically buzzing on the way over in the passenger seat—connor sending his wife curious looks at every red light. but lauren only just grinned back at him like a cheshire cat.

it was kind of freaky.

and you and leon tried—really tried to get it right. dinner was in the oven on the keep warm setting, consisting home made chicken and veggies and potatoes that you drizzled with an amount of butter that would have the oilers nutritionists frowning, while you waited for them.

but it all started when leon reached above you to grab the plates, his hand enclosing around your hip and giving it a firm squeeze. half hard against your ass.

so really it’s your boyfriends fault, because soon enough you were making out on the kitchen island like horny teenagers.

you’ve got your legs wrapped around leon’s thick waist, hands running through his hair while he paws at your ass and legs. kissing like it’s the oxygen you need to keep breathing. and in a way, that’s what it feels like.

because this version of leon drasitial—hell, even the version you thought despised your guts just as much as he did beer nuts—is truly your lifeline. and yeah, he is the air you breathe. he’s the sun and the moon and you love him more than anything.

and leon loves the colour red now. especially when it’s your red nails tickling his arm while you watch a movie together. when it’s your red lips kissing his cheek in the lazy morning light. your red sweatpants that you always leave on his bathroom floor.

too wrapped up in one another to hear the door open, you’re completely oblivious to the sound of lauren and connor toeing off their shoes, only a half wall between you.

all you can hear is your thumping heart.

all leon can hear is your little breathy sighs.

until—"I knew they didn't actually hate each other."

lauren half laughs, half gawks as you and leon separate. she eyes her husband in disbelief—connor doesn’t even look phased. no, if anything he looks content.

like he knew. and not in the way lauren knew. but like, actually had a real gut feeling about their best friends.

"was I the only clueless one?" lauren questions, watching as you slip off the counter top, adjusting your frilly top as you do so—previously roughed up from leon’s wondering hands.

you send her a look, wincing at her question. clearly, that means yes.

but connor just shrugs, walking further into the delicious smelling kitchen. the oilers captain picks a grape off the vine sitting in the large fruit bowl, popping it in his mouth.

"nah, they were both clueless about each other's feelings for like…7 years. you pale in comparison to that."

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the early bird special

pairing: leon x reader

cws/tags: ddlg, erectile dysfunction, somnophilia?, could be dubcon in theory but leon is actually not upset he just has attitude problems, not beta read, a little proofread

summary: leon and his soft dick

a/n: okay ik i said no more ddlg but we all know i was lying

wc: 1.2k

taglist: @poselysscripts @rigorwhoring

masterlist | ko-fi | commissions | join my taglist | discord server

Leon’s not old enough for this to be happening. Isn’t erectile dysfunction supposed to hit after 50? He’s barely 40. Or, he was barely 40 a few years back, but he’s not quite pushing 50. Point being, he does not qualify for the early bird special, but no matter how early any bird gets into bed with him, they won’t get more than a sad, flaccid worm beneath his sweatpants.

Regardless, he wakes up to the warmth of your mouth engulfing his soft cock. You’ve managed to crawl under the covers and take his dick out of his boxers without him noticing — the sleeping pills seem to be working, he notes. Another thing that’s come with age: pills. More and more of them. He’s got stuff to combat his high blood pressure, insomnia, high cholesterol, and soon he’ll probably have to start Viagra. He’ll get that in the mail, though. He doesn’t need his doctor to mess around in his pants and humiliate him more than you do. Unintentionally, of course, but why can’t you just ignore it when it’s soft? Give him a break.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a yawn that sands down the sharp edges of his tone real nicely.

You pull off with a pop and poke your head out from under the covers. “Playing,” you say.

“You should be sleeping,” he says, though the headache-inducing sun piercing through the window suggests it’s morning.

Plus, you’re an adult. The bedtime he enforces is a flimsy little rule you suggested. Leon doesn’t actually have control over your sleep-wake schedule. He doesn’t even have control over his own at this point. Not since he became your daddy. Not a father, no, but a daddy. To become a father, you have to stick your dick in a woman and blow your load inside her — and Leon clearly has issues in that area. In a way, it’s probably for the best. Leon would rather see a BOW barreling toward him at maximum velocity than two little lines on a stick. A slash or a bite is instant but a baby is 18 years of torment.

But having you as his baby isn’t so bad, even when you’re all over him, poking and prodding and playing.

You emerge from the covers suddenly, like a little whack-a-mole, and If he was hard right now, he thinks, he’d use his cock like a toy hammer and smack you on the cheek. You’d love it.

“Why?” you whine, protesting Leon’s insistence that you go back to sleep.

“Because daddy’s sleeping.” And you’re being a little pest. You’re a little bed bug and Leon hopes to god you won’t bite him. Not there.

“But daddy—”

“Shh…” Leon finds himself guiding his cock back into your mouth like a pacifier. You latch on easily, eagerly.

“Good girl,” he says. “You can play down there as long as you let daddy sleep.” He pats you on the head, praising you for giving him some peace and quiet — a rare thing for Leon.

The pills have turned his dreams from terrifying to downright bizarre. Instead of running through the halls of a zombie-infested Raccoon City, he’s walking through the DSO HQ ass-naked, flaccid dick on full-display, and he usually ends up insisting to the president that he’s a grower not a shower.

Until he wakes up. And finds out that he has zero proof to back up that assertion — not that it matters — as you’re still fixated on his limp dick.

“Sorry, baby,” he says. “It’s still sleeping. Not gonna get up for you just yet.”

“I don’t care,” you say. “He can keep sleeping. I just wanna give him kisses.”

And somehow, Leon’s jealous. He’s awake and doesn’t get any kisses. “How ‘bout you come give daddy a kiss, huh?”

You hum a happy affirmative and climb up Leon’s torso to bring your lips to his. Even with his eyes closed, he knows you’re grinning. He can feel your smile and it warms his heart. But it doesn’t stir his cock.

With your legs straddling him, he can also feel your wet pussy on his bare thigh.

“What’s gotten you all worked up this morning?” he asks, reaching down to cup your panty-clad cunt with his palm.

“Daddy,” you say, both an answer and a plea, with your hand around his dick. Again. You still haven’t given up on that, it seems.

“That’s what’s making you all wet? I’m not even hard.”

It’s not your fault, he wants to add, but you don’t seem to mind either way.

“I want him,” you insist. “I want to make him give me kisses.”

“Kisses where?” Leon’s genuinely lost at this point. You ought to give him a dictionary of all of your euphemisms. He didn’t realize he was signing up to learn a new language when he agreed to be your daddy.

“Princess parts,” you mumble. You refuse to say pussy or cunt, but you get shy around the silliest term for it — the one you requested he call it. Sorry, her. Your cunt is a girl and daddy’s cock is a boy. You get pissy if he doesn’t abide by these rules.

“I wanna make them kiss,” you clarify. Like your genitalia are barbie dolls. Whatever. No matter how weird he thinks it is, he has no right to make fun of you when he’s a willing participant in your kinky bedroom activities.

“Go ahead and do whatever you want,” he says, resigning himself to the fact that you’re not giving up on this.

The next thing he knows, your pussy is sliding along his shaft, which is, admittedly, starting to stiffen.

“This is kissing?” he asks with a hint of a smirk on his lips. Last time Leon checked, this was at least third base.

“Yeah,” you manage through shaky breaths.

Goddamn, he thinks, you’re really into this. And if he were younger, he’d be rock-hard, leaking from the tip. But he’s not. He’s barely got a semi. Can’t even fuck you the way you deserve.

He lazily grabs your hips, more of an acknowledgment, maybe encouragement, rather than actually guiding you. You’re doing it all by yourself, and Leon’s proud, honestly.

“Gonna come like this?” he asks, intrigued, excited at the prospect. A part of him is dying to tease you for getting off so easily, but you have the perfect comeback at your fingertips, or at your pussy lips if Leon’s being literal.

He’s too flattered, flustered, really, to say much at all. And yet, he’s still not hard.

“Please, daddy,” you whimper. It’s not like you have to ask, let alone beg.

“Mm-hmm,” he hums. “Go ahead, baby. Come for daddy.”

And to his fucking surprise, you do. Your body jolts, tenses up then releases. Your pussy flutters around nothing as you soak the length of him.

You collapse on his chest, finally ready to rest. There’s only one problem. Leon’s dick. It’s fucking hard. And, for the record, it is absolutely your fault. So now you get to sleep and Leon still doesn’t? God, his life is so unfair.

When you reach for his dick and guide it towards your entrance, lazily, still flat on his chest, he swears you must be able to hear his thoughts.

“Daddy,” you say quietly. “You can play with me while I’m sleeping.”

God, life is so unfair, Leon thinks, this time with a smile, because he’s no saint — he does not deserve to play with you while you’re sleeping.

But, Leon’s no saint, so, he’ll take you up on the offer.

[delphi-shield]

SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily

finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.

characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong

content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)

You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.

It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?

Chris Redfield ↪

Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)

If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.

You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?

Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.

Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."

If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.

That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"

And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?

Jill Valentine ↪

Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.

Oh, she’s bothered.

Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.

She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.

You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.

She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.

Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."

Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."

Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.

"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"

Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.

Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.

Leon Kennedy ↪

Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.

Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”

You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”

His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”

But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:

“Babe, have you seen my gun?”

You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:

"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."

Ada Wong ↪

I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.

She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.

It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.

She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–

“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”

She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”

She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.

[girlgenius1111]

study buddy part 2

ingrid engen x mapi leon & engen!reader solstråle engen ft @wileys-russo 's fresa sol and fresa try again, despite fresa's broken foot and grouchy attitude. sol's wrist causes her problems.

—

“She slipped on blood?” You echoed, feeling lightheaded at the vague image in your mind. Mapi chuckled, rolling her eyes at your squeamishness. 

“Yes, and then she fell again in the shower, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Anyway, her ankle is completely broken, so maybe you can offer to drive her to your next study date?” 

“It’s not a date María.” You said immediately, though your insistence only seemed to make Mapi’s grin grow. “And fine. I can drive her.” 

You could drive Fresa, no problem. It wasn’t like you were already anxious about seeing her again. And even if you were anxious, it was just about how horribly the first study session had gone, and how important getting good grades going forward was. Nothing else. 

“Good. That saves Fresa the embarrassment of Alexia fireman carrying her into the library.”  

That was another part of it. You were sure Fresa hadn’t mentioned to her eldest sister how rude you’d been at your first meeting with her, or you would no longer be breathing. You’d asked a few of your sister’s teammates about Fresa, and they’d all had nice things to say. Above all, though, they’d mentioned that Alexia was fiercely overprotective of her baby sister. If you messed up again, it was possible Fresa would tell Alexia and Alexia would… kill you, probably. 

You reached for the coffee Mapi had made for you, contemplating how you were really going to have to be on your best behavior this time. Ingrid walked in, then, running a minute late as she always seemed to be in the morning. 

“Are you talking about your study date with Fresa?” She asked, stopping to kiss the top of your head as she spoke. 

“It’s not a date!” You repeated, grimacing at Ingrid and Mapi’s exchanged smirks. 

“Ready, amor?” María asked, opening the drawer, getting out a tide to go stick and holding it in your direction just as a few drops of coffee dripped off the rim of the mug, right onto your shirt.  

The corner of Ingrid’s lips twitched as she watched you grab the stain remover, grumbling as you tried to get the dark stain out of your white t-shirt.  

“Yep. Bag, coffee, watched Sol spill. I’m good to go.” 

They chuckled as they headed for the front door, Mapi pausing to slap your hand down just as you raised it to flip them off. 

“Enjoy your date!” Mapi called, but the door shut before you could shout back that it was not a date. 

You pulled out your phone, typing out and deleting the text as least five times before you settled on something. 

Heard you broke your ankle. I can drive you to the library? 

Dropping your phone back onto the counter, you checked your watch, trying to judge if you had enough time for a trip to the climbing gym before school started. You didn’t think so, especially considering you’d been late to your first class everyday this week because the new kid’s locker was right next to yours and he’d needed help getting the combination lock open. 

Just as you were about to leave [so you’d have enough time to help Marc get into his locker], your phone dinged. It was a relief that neither Ingrid nor Mapi were there to see how quickly you picked your phone up. 

That would be lovely, thank you! 

You frowned. Lovely. That did not sound like Fresa. The easy acceptance didn’t seem like her, either. Before you could analyze further, another text appeared. 

Sorry, that was my friend with my phone. She thinks I have an attitude problem. You can drive me. I guess.

That sounded much more like Fresa. 

Well I’m not arguing with the attitude thing. I’ll pick you up at 4:15. 

You hit send before you could think too hard about what you’d typed. Mapi had told you to be yourself, that she was sure you and Fresa would get along if you just relaxed a little. That’s all you were doing. 

Your car better not be as unorganized as your backpack. 

Somehow, it didn’t seem as critical as it had the other day, when Fresa had insulted your organization skills. 

As you wish, Dr. Putellas 

With a final few pets and kisses for Scout, you left the house and locked the door behind you. Maybe Mapi was right.

—

Expecting the school day to drag, you were surprised to find that it flew by. Especially considering that it wasn’t often that you… remained at school the whole day. Before you knew it, you were pulling into Fresa’s driveway, curiously studying the house that one of the world’s best footballers grew up in. Though you lived with María and Ingrid and knew how talented they were, you were always a bit in awe of Alexia. 

Before you had the chance to grab your phone and text the Spaniard that you were there, the front door swung open. You watched, amused, as Fresa’s distinctly irritated face appeared in the doorway, both of her sisters hovering behind as she crutched her way out of the house. There was a brief pause as Alexia seemed to be trying to lift Fresa down off the front porch, and you bit back a smile as Fresa pointed aggressively back to the door, and hopped down the step herself. Alexia and Alba watched from the porch as Fresa neared the car, much like a parent would watch their baby take its first steps. On instinct, you got out of the driver's seat and walked around to open the passenger door. You missed the look of surprise on Fresa’s face, awkwardly saying hello as you fixed your attention on the ground. 

“Solstråle.” Alexia called, hurrying over and trying to steady Fresa, though her hands were slapped away. 

“Alexia, go away.” Fresa hissed, hopping into the front seat and trying to shove her crutches in with her. 

“Hi Alexia.” You said quietly, wrestling the crutches away from Fresa and throwing them in the backseat of the car. 

“She isn’t supposed to walk without the crutches, and make sure she elevates her ankle once you get to the library.” 

You bit back a smirk at the choice words Fresa mumbled under her breath, turning to Alexia. 

“Don’t worry, Mapi briefed me. We’ll be good!” 

Fresa was still grumbling, this time something that sounded like kiss ass, but you ignored her knowing very well how frustrating it could be when your sister treated you as if you were a baby. 

“Bueno. Be careful, Fres, te quiero.” Alexia said with a satisfied nod, reaching past you to pinch Fresa’s cheek. The younger girl looked as though she wanted to bite her sister’s fingers, but instead she just grimaced. 

“Te quiero, idiota.” Fresa replied grumpily. 

—

The car ride started off quiet. And awkward. You knew you’d been too quiet last time, mostly because you were embarrassed at how lost you were with your schoolwork and because Fresa’s attitude hadn’t exactly put you at ease. Now, you were trying to be less quiet but started to overthink every single thing you could say. It had been 7 minutes, and you'd opened your mouth to speak at least 10 times before shutting it again. 

You hated talking. You wished you were back at home, curled in the cozy chair in the corner of your room with Scout, finishing the nature documentary on elephants you’d started last night before falling asleep. Fresa was silent, too, which didn’t really seem like her. Last time, she hadn’t really stopped talking. She seemed to be in just as bad of a mood though, which you decided to attribute to her broken foot and not your presence. You’d been horribly grumpy when you’d broken your wrist, so you could understand. 

“How long in the moon boot?” You asked, so suddenly Fresa jumped a little in her seat. 

“A month.” Fresa replied shortly. 

You nodded, fixing your eyes on the road. “I broke my wrist a bit ago and I was in a cast for a while. It sucks.” 

“At least you could walk.” Her voice was more casual, now, which you took as a good sign. 

“Yeah, but Ingrid wouldn’t let me do anything with either hand. She wouldn’t let me hike or cut my own food up with a fork and knife or walk the dog–”

“You have a dog?” Fresa interrupted. 

For the first time, your face broke into a wide smile as you nodded, eyes flickering to the passenger seat. “I do! Scout. He’s a border collie.” Pulling to a stop at a red light, you tapped your phone screen and showed Fresa your wallpaper; Scout at the top of your favorite hiking trail, his mouth open as he panted almost as though he was smiling. Fresa smiled then, too, softening slightly as you clearly swelled with pride talking about your Scout. 

You pulled into the parking lot of the library, then, parking as close to the doors as you could so Fresa wouldn’t have to go far on her crutches. You were out of the car so fast after turning it off that Fresa didn’t have time to unbuckle her seatbelt before you were opening the back door and grabbing her crutches. You opened her door, then, holding the crutches steady as she got out of the car, and she was all ready to yell at her to stop hovering when you turned, letting her shut the car door behind herself and follow you towards the entrance. If there was anything you were clear on, it was that Fresa’s sisters had surely been suffocating her since she got hurt. You weren’t about to make her angrier by doing the same. 

—

You hated how hard it was to focus. This infuriating, smart, beautiful girl was just about talking your ear off, but nothing felt like it was processing. Your knee bounced, and you tapped your pencil rapidly against your notebook, your attention not on the formula Fresa was taking you through, but instead on the lighter golden streaks of hair framing her face, no doubt from time in the sun. The freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, and the way her fingers curled around the pencil in her hand-

“Engen!” She said, louder this time. You snapped out of whatever trance you’d been in, feeling your cheeks flush. “Are you paying attention?” 

You nodded, somehow unable to find your voice. 

“Is it hard for you to focus?” Fresa asked, her voice a touch softer now. There was concern on her face, and it made you want to squirm. And run. Run far far away. Away from this pretty girl and the way she seemed to see right through the mask you put on for strangers. 

“No. I’m fine, this is just fucking boring.” You snapped, wanting to snatch back both your words and the tone they’d been said with as soon as they were out of your mouth. 

Fresa gazed at you, unimpressed. She had the aura about her that her sister did, one that meant business and took absolutely no shit. It was intimidating… and something else that you weren’t quite ready to admit. “Again, I’m doing this as a favor. You could be less of an asshole.” 

You blinked. Had you been an asshole today? You knew you’d just snapped at her, but otherwise you’d remained quiet and done everything she’d asked you to. 

Again, something in the Spaniard’s expression softened, and it felt like something inside your chest was melting. “You’re just… quiet.” She amended. “It feels like you aren’t really listening.” 

“I am.” You promised. “I’m trying, this is just boring and confusing and I don’t remember learning any of this.” You gestured wildly to the formulas Fresa had listed out on top of your piece of paper. She’d put them on there like you should have known them all already, and though you didn’t, you kept that to yourself. 

Fresa’s carefully manicured eyebrows furrowed. “Do you recognize this?” 

You shook your head, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

 “This one?”

Again, you shook your head. Fresa went through all of them, realizing quickly that she’d jumped into a topic that you were not familiar with, assuming that because you were working on the unit in school now, you’d learned the prior information needed. She shifted gears, beginning to talk you through the first formula, noticing that you paid a lot more attention now that the math wasn’t as complicated. 

Once it seemed like you had a handle on the first few formulas, Fresa showed you how to apply them to what you were learning now in class. It was much easier, now, or it was in your head. It was slightly difficult to focus on the numbers in front of you when you knew Fresa was studying you, as if trying to figure something out. 

“What’s school like in Norway, anyway? Did they forget to teach you basic algebra?” She teased. 

You stiffened, forcing a very fake smile onto your lips. You didn’t want to talk about Norway, yet you still felt like you owed her some kind of explanation. 

“I didn’t really pay attention. Or try very hard.” The way you said it made it clear that you wouldn’t be saying anything else, and luckily, Fresa seemed to get that. 

“Well, you’re trying now. That’s cool.” She said casually, flipping the page of your textbook before she began to talk you through another set of problems.

Once again, your eyes were stuck on her face, but your brain focused on her words. She’d simplified it so much, yet it felt like it rang true when she said it. You were trying now. And that was more than you’d ever done before. 

The rest of the study date seemed to fly by. Maybe it was because your school work was coming easier or maybe it was because the tension between you and Fresa was lessened. Either way, you found yourself sitting across from her in the study room with nothing left to do, but you had the strangest feeling that you didn’t want to go just yet. 

“Are you going to the final?” You wondered. Fresa had begun to pack her bag but she paused, leaning back in her chair and nodding. 

“Yeah, with my family. You are going?” 

This time you nodded. “With María and Ingrid, but I’m sitting with Mapi’s parents and her brother.” 

Fresa’s brow crinkled, and you could tell she wanted to ask why you weren’t sitting with your own parents. She didn’t, though, quietly thanking you as you stood and handed over the crutches that were propped up against the wall. 

“Well, I’ll see you there then, before we meet to study again. If you want to study again.” 

It was an effort to make sure your response was measured, not overenthusiastic. “I’d like to. This was helpful even if it was boring.” 

You moved closer to the Spaniard, extending a hand though you didn’t think she’d take your offer of help. Fresa reached out, seemingly without thinking about it, allowing you to help her to her feet. You were eye to eye for a moment, or as eye to eye as you could be with Fresa being several inches shorter than you. The brunette cracked a smile, rolling her eyes.

“Boring,” she scoffed, “boring is watching you try to multiply double digit numbers.” 

She began to crutch out of the room and you followed her, mind searching for the perfect witty reply. A small smile sat on your face as you held the door for Fresa, a smile you didn’t even know was there. 

—

Something was wrong. You’d been dancing around it for weeks. Maybe months, more likely years, but you couldn’t deny it any longer. Something was wrong with your wrist. The doctor at the hospital had tried to tell you back when you’d broken it a few months ago, but you hadn’t wanted to hear it. If you ignored it, the problem would go away. That had been your approach to a lot of things in life, and your wrist pain was one of those things. 

Mapi had asked, once, after the doctor brought it up. Carefully, calmly, she’d inquired as to whether your wrist caused you pain. As confidently as you could, you told her it didn’t bother you much. Mapi had dropped it, then. You weren’t sure if she believed you, or if she just knew better than to try to get you to admit to it, but either way, you hadn’t discussed it with her or Ingrid since. 

But the pain… it was getting worse. You did a lot more climbing these days than you used to. Before, your go to activity to relax was a hike, but it stressed Ingrid out if you went hiking too close to dark or when she was away for a match, so you spent more time in the climbing gym. And climbing always made the ache in your wrist more pronounced. So did writing for too long and sometimes if you picked something heavy up with your bad hand, it would give out. The list of things that bothered it was getting longer, and the pain was getting more intense. 

It was becoming increasingly clear that whatever was wrong with your wrist wasn’t going away anytime soon, no matter how much you ignored it. Your next plan was not to see a doctor. Of course not. That was the worst case scenario. In fact, you’d almost rather cut your hand off yourself than go see a doctor. No, instead you did some googling and took matters into your own hands… well, hand. You got a wrist brace that alleviated some of the pain while climbing; a wrist brace that remained hidden at the bottom of your gym backpack lest your sister or María find it and give you the third degree. When you got home from the gym, or from really anything that made it hurt, you iced. This was more difficult to stick to because Ingrid and Mapi were always hanging around downstairs in the living room when you got back from the gym, and they’d begun to notice that you were grabbing ice after you showered. You said it was for the callouses and burns on your hands from the holds, and they hadn’t pressed. 

Until today, when the pain was worse and your wrist felt a bit swollen. You’d gotten back from the gym a couple hours ago, having stopped there after school. After quitting early because your wrist ached, you’d come home, hopped in the shower, ate dinner with Mapi and your sister, before scurrying upstairs with an ice pack to hide away in your room. 

Either Ingrid had grown suspicious, or she’d just come to check on you like she sometimes did. Either way, she pushed your door open after knocking, [though she didn’t wait for a response, something she did when she thought you were hiding something], and found you lounging on the floor with Scout, your wrist carefully wrapped in the ice pack as you pet your dog with your other hand. 

“Sure, come in, Ingrid.” You called sarcastically, resisting the urge to shove the icepack away from your and hide your wrist somehow. Scrambling to hide now after she’d already seen would only make her more suspicious. Turning to look at your sister, you saw her eyes zero in on your extended arm. 

“What’s wrong with your wrist?” She asked, not even bothering to defend that she’d come in without knocking. 

“Just a bit sore. I twisted it weird at the gym.” It was a lie, and somehow you felt as though Ingrid knew that. Your anxiety began to grow as you searched for something, anything to say, before noticing that while the sweatshirt she’d paired with her favorite pair of sweatpants was very familiar.  “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” 

Ingrid ignored your accusation, stepping forward and motioning for you to stand up. Though she was wearing your sweatshirt, she very clearly saw that you were trying to distract her. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” 

“I want my sweatshirt back.” You grumbled, getting to your feet and sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Solstråle.” Ingrid said seriously, her hands finding her hips as she raised an eyebrow in your direction. It was the ‘tell me what’s going on right now’ look, but you weren’t giving in. Not about this. 

“I didn’t think about it. Relax, Ingrid, it’s not a big deal.” You whistled for Scout to join you on the bed, the black and white dog eagerly bounding over and hopping up. You ran your fingers through his fur, purposefully using your bad hand. It took everything in you not to get defensive and start yelling, to act casual and fine, especially when Ingrid was staring at you so intently. 

“You didn’t mention it hurt, and you hid away in your room to ice it. That feels like a big deal to me.” 

“I didn’t hide away, I always come up here after dinner.” You scoffed. “You’re being a bit dramatic, Ing.” 

Ingrid’s nostrils flared, her face flushing as she grew frustrated. She didn’t reply, simply turning on her heel and heading for the hallway. Naively, you thought maybe you’d won. Maybe she’d give up. Instead, she poked her head into the hall, calling out for her girlfriend to come upstairs. By the time María made it up to your room, you and Ingrid were fully in a standoff; Ingrid’s eyes narrowed in your direction as you sat stiffly with your arms crossed, trying not to wince at the pain the position caused. 

“What’s up?” Mapi asked carefully, stepping into the room as though there was a bomb that needed to be diffused inside. 

“Ingrid’s paranoid.” 

“Sol’s wrist is hurting her and she didn’t say anything and I think it’s a much bigger deal than she thinks it is.” 

Mapi blinked, looking between the two of you for a moment. She stepped forward, holding her hand out in your direction. You rolled your eyes, knowing what she wanted, but put your hand into her outstretched one anyway. Her fingers probed around your wrist joint, and you had to concentrate hard so you didn’t wince or cry out. 

“What happened?” 

“I twisted it on the wall. It’s fine, just a bit sore.” 

Mapi looked doubtful, pressing her index finger into a particularly painful spot. You yelped, wrenching your hand away. Ingrid stepped closer, no triumph on her face even as she’d clearly been proven right. She wished she was wrong. 

“Just twisted it?” Ingrid questioned. 

You glared at the two of them, cradling your wrist close to your chest. “Yes. Twisted it. It hurts a little bit. More when you poke it like that. It’s not a big deal, it doesn’t matter, now get out of my room.” 

It was harsh, even for you. Mapi sighed, shaking her head slightly at you. She hated when you yelled at Ingrid, and she hadn’t heard you be so irritated in a while. Your sister, though, didn’t look discouraged. Her eyes were still fixed on yours, and you almost wished she looked angry instead of the worry clouding her features. 

“Do not speak to me like that. I’m just worried about you.” Ingrid began, your guilt increasing.

It almost worked, but the pain in your wrist and the guilt in your chest didn’t compare to the anxiety you felt at the prospect of admitting what was wrong. You were strong enough to handle this yourself. you’d done it before, and you’d do it again. You didn’t need anyone’s help. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been rude. But I’m fine, Ingrid.”

Some of the tension left your sister’s frame, her eyes softening in a way that almost made you break. 

“Then promise me your wrist is fine, that you just twisted it.” She asked calmly. 

You only hesitated for a moment. “I promise.” 

The lie left a bad taste in your mouth, and what was worse? You could tell from the disappointed looks on both Ingrid and María’s faces that they knew you were lying. Neither of them pushed further, though. They knew how stubborn you could be. You wouldn’t talk to them until you were ready, and there was nothing they could do to speed that process along. 

You unequivocally did not deserve the hug Ingrid wrapped you in, but you let it happen anyway. She squeezed you tight, pinched your cheek like she always did, and stepped aside.The routine repeated, María giving you a searching look before hugging you as well. They said goodnight every night; there wasn’t an evening you went to bed without them checking on you. It felt like you were throwing that care back in their face by lying, yet you were completely powerless to do anything else. You couldn’t tell the truth. You wouldn’t. 

As they left your room, you flopped back onto your bed. Your wrist hurt, and your sister was probably still upset with you. But your mind was lingering on neither of those things. Instead, you were thinking about the Champions League final coming up. And who you’d see there. 

—

😁🫶🏻🙂🥰 🍓☀️🍓☀️🍓☀️🍓☀️🍓☀️🍓☀️🍓☀️ [i hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!]

[lulualuana]

Overworking

i literally put off writing for like ages and a half if i can, but id want more ideas, someone suggest something that's so good I just have to write it in one sitting plss

wc: 862

cw: high libido! reader and older bf! Leon bc older leon plague, porn no plot, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap that thing yall!), multiple creampies, overstimulation on both ends, dumbification, dacryphilia (yall know i like my crying), aftercare, not proofread (sue me), i think that's it

enjoy?

Leon was getting on in his years, his friends around him knew it and he knew it, and he was okay with it. The one thing that really reminded him of it was you, his young and very pretty girlfriend who just so happened to have the libido of a frat boy on steroids.

You couldn't go one day without something to sate you, whether that be bouncing on Leon's dick until your eyes crossed, having his fingers buried as deep as they'll go and then some, or even your own when he was too busy or tired to help you out. It's not like he had a problem with it, really. He got his rocks off, you got your rocks off, and you were both happy together. Sometimes though, your resilience scared him..

Leon’s hands gripped your hips harshly, his nails creating crescent moons on your skin sure to discolor later. The contact with your skin was the only thing grounding him as you steadily bounced on his dick, his chest rising and falling with quick, shuddering breaths as if to compensate for the pace. “S-sweetheart, baby.. Don’t you t-think we could-fuck-use a break?” He asked, biting down the urge to pathetically whimper. 

It was early in the afternoon on some random Saturday when you had come to talk to Leon, seating yourself right down on his lap and getting all nice and comfortable. The brief talk led to your lips slotted against his, and eventually to you sinking down onto his dick with a string of pleased curses. 

This was nowhere out of the ordinary, if not for the fact that you just kept going. After an orgasm from the both of you, you had simply just kept moving, working yourself and him through overstimulation and into another orgasm and then some. He’s all but praying at this point that you’ll give his poor old dick a break and sit still. He can’t work it like he used to. 

You shake your head in response to Leon, barely even thinking as you lift and sink your hips onto his, your legs shaking and aching from the constant strain. “I c-can’t.. I want more,” you stutter, rendered a little more than mindfucked from the sensations. It’s a little hard to think when all of your attention is put into how good it feels to have Leon’s cock stuffing in and out of you, his cum burning deep inside you and leaving you wanting more and more. 

You felt like an addict for it. The burning stretch of his cock sinking into you, the way your stomach would warm and your pussy would clench around him when you got close, the look of bliss that softened his face and the warmth of his cum as it settled deep inside you. It felt wrong to go without something that felt so damn good in so many ways. 

It was what kept you going through the burn in your thighs, through the borderline painful clenches around his dick as it dragged against your insides, through the tears building in your eyes as sensation burned through thought in your mind. You wanted nothing else except more, and that meant terrible things for Leon. It probably didn’t help that you were ovulating too.. 

“One-one more, please? Fuck.. just one more, I’ll be good..” You babble, a hiccupy sob passing your lips as your head ducks, tears stain Leon’s shirt where they fall as your pace stutters, the ache in your hips catching up to you just as fast as another orgasm did. It’s sickening how much that turns on Leon, the sight of you, all pretty shudders and tears as you try desperately to fuck yourself on his dick, one hand rubbing your sensitive clit enough to pull more sobs from you. 

“O-One more..” His legs are shaking just as much as yours as he helps you, rutting his hips up and pushing your hips down until you're choking on sobs with every thrust. Any words you were speaking turns into a mess, matching the state of your brain as a familiar warmth spreads across your body. You’re coming before you can even call it, doubling over in Leon’s arms and shaking, sobbing and babbling something incomprehensible into his shoulder as he follows, his body twitching right alongside yours as he spills into you. Lord knows what number you were on now.

It takes a lot of soothing for you to return to a proper state of thinking. A long while spent still with soothing murmurs and kisses, a gentle massage in the shower and then a warm bath after, cuddling in bed after. He does everything in his power to make sure you’re both comfortable after all of that. 

“I don’t ever want to go for that long ever again..” You mumble somewhere in between sleep and consciousness, listening to Leon’s steady heartbeat and the chuckle that rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that was a little hellish, even for you, sweetheart.” You huff a little laugh at that and nod slowly, falling further into sleep. “Just wait until the next time I’m ovulating..” 

Oh boy. 

~~~

need to overwork that old man

[writingwisterias]

i need a fic where di leon is a grumpy farmer and reader is the golden retriever girl who went to spend time with her grandparents and is invading his farm to steal the strawberries from his garden (obs: she is a little afraid of him) HDJEKDGWJDGWJ😭😭 im hungry to read something like this PLS SAVE ME

Anon you won me over with this! It's like you know me and my love for strawberries! I hope you enjoy!! I got carried away I'm sorry it took so long omg!!

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Soft Leon, Age-gap, Cow-girl, Overstimulation, Hinted PTSD, Soft Dom Leon, Switch Leon, Leon deserves every bit of happiness, Unprotected Sex, Missionary, Words: 5k

DI!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Fem! reader

The wind blew at your dress as you stared at the fence opposite you, the gaps wide enough to use as a way to hoist yourself up. A curious nature was always a dangerous one your mother would whisper but you just couldn’t help being curious, not when the fruit over the fence looked so much riper than yours. You shouldn’t be greedy and just accept the ones that you have grown. No one was home, at least it looked like that. The window that overlooked the garden always had the curtains drawn shut, the swing chair on the back porch had a thin layer of dust from its lack of use. You had shown at the old fence a few days in a row, the strawberries turning a brighter red each time. Surely they wouldn’t care if you stole a few? The white buds that laid around them signalled a new batch coming in. 

If it wasn’t for your grandparents constant mention of the man that resided here you would have assumed it was abandoned. You always thought it must be lonely living in a farmhouse this big, the green of his own garden stretching just as far as your family’s. Your boots notched on the fence perfectly giving you the stability you needed as you began to climb over. The wind whipped away at your hair, the sun gave you an angelic glow. 

At least that’s what Leon thought as he watched you from his bedroom window, his form hidden in the folds of the curtain. His coffee was as bitter as he could make it steaming in his hands. He wouldn’t confront you, he never has not in the many years he's watched you do this. Not when in a few days you would come back down to the fence with your small basket containing a book and some of those mouth–watering cookies and he got to watch someone live freely without the horrors that haunted him. 

Leon never knew what caused him to grow the fruit. Perhaps it was the craving of something sweet in his seemingly bitter life or maybe it was just to see your curious features every summer to see if the plant had made it through the harshness of winter. Leon’s years of service had dwindled, his aging body no longer fit enough for whatever they wanted him to do. Which allowed him to finally nurture the life he thought he deserved, the simple dream he imagined for himself all those years ago. 

The farmhouse was always a part of this dream of his, the expansive land always seemed like the perfect ending and start to family life. Since he moved in, your grandparents helped him get settled quickly. The older couple were innocent in their teaching to help him learn how to repair everything. Leon offered what labour his body would allow nowadays as a thanks to their warmth. It was then that first summer he saw you. 

This sweet ray of sunshine that ran through the blades of glass like you were in the sound of music. Every colour of dress looked good on you, your hair always pulled in styles that frame your face perfectly. Too bad he respected the kindness of his elder neighbours to do anything about it. Your youthful features told him it was wrong, his darkened ones were too dangerous for yours. His touch would surely taint you, corrupt you. So he settled on his observations. 

It didn’t take much brain power for him to figure out that you were afraid of being caught. Not when you held the berries in the skirt of your dress staring at the kitchen window. If only you were smart enough to look up, then you would see him. He didn’t have the heart to stop you from doing this. Not when it kept that gap in the curtains open allowing the single ray of sunshine to spread out on the floor of his bedroom in his otherwise shadow of a home. 

“Not stealing Leon’s strawberries again are you?” Your grandmother spoke from the kitchen doorway. You had finished preparing them for the cookies, licking the syrup that they created as you sprinkle them with sugar. “Do you think he would mind? I never asked but all the curtains were drawn again” You spoke turning to face her. It felt like home here, like you belonged to help them out during summer. Your boots waiting at the door for the next adventure. You had long since swapped the summer dress you wore earlier to the lounge clothes you would normally wear at home. At least ones your elders would approve of. 

“I don’t even think he eats them himself,” she laughed as she stood next to you. “Perhaps he just grows them for you, he lives alone after all” 

The idea of him doing this made you blush, you weren’t sure why. If it were true the action was kind and it almost made you feel guilty for your actions. You turned your face away from her instead, willing yourself to focus on the cookie dough that you were currently rolling out in small balls and placing them on the baking tray. “I’m sure he doesn’t, we’ve never met and as far as I know he doesn’t know I’m the infamous thief” You awkwardly blubbered out. “I guess he must think it’s a pretty big rabbit then since they steal so many at a time” She laughed, her hands held out towards the bowl, washed and ready to help you with the baking process. 

It was moments like this that you enjoyed, the simplicity of it reminding you of the true home you craved. The bed they provided was always soft and warm, the sheets smelling like the fresh air that would filter in throughout the day. It was an escape for you, the life you always dreamed of but were never sure you could sustain on your own. The six weeks were a countdown of your daydream ending. The stark reminder that reality was close to hitting you in the face and you would have to wait three seasons for your return. It was always bittersweet. Moments like these will always be cherished, especially as you chatted about anything and everything you could whilst the cookies baked. Their smell fills the room. 

“I should thank him one day for growing such great strawberries, I wonder how he does it” You laughed as you took a bite from one of them now they were finished. “He’s home more often than you think, love. I think he would like to see who stealing his strawberries, maybe he’ll give you some tips for yours” 

One day you’ll be brave enough to walk up his driveway instead of over the fence with some of your infamous treats. To put a face to the name that was spoken so commonly in this household. The image of him you formed in your mind was good enough but there was always that lingering curiosity to see if it would match. 

You could see the farmhouse from your bedroom whilst you began already mapping out the spot you’ll sit at tomorrow. The sun setting gives the sky a red glow. It was always your favourite time of day watching the foxes weave through the longer grass, the deer making a fleeting appearance as they ran across the fields. It wasn’t like the city you would have to return to, the sky barely visible amongst the smog of the industries. 

The basket you always took was ready at your bedroom door filled with your latest read and the dress you had picked out hanging neatly above it. A weekly routine for you at this point – it has been since the first week you arrived. You enjoyed the sun on your skin, the smell of the fresh grass as you laid across it. Despite enjoying your time here it often felt lonely, you wished for a sibling or someone to enjoy the outside but no they were far too busy now to continue this tradition. They didn’t care for the open space like you did or how good it felt to be off the grid for a few months.

The dew drops darkened the leather on your boots, the blades of grass leaving small thin lines as you waded through it to that one spot you wanted. However, today felt different, like something had shifted in your routine. Not necessarily something bad, just different. You paused allowing the soft breeze to cool your skin, it was only then that you spotted the normally empty swing chair now occupied. You stood frozen watching the wind swipe at the brunette, his features calm…serene. When he finally met your eyes he smiled, a toothy grin that suited his face. You gave your own shy one back before returning to your previous task. 

You faced away from the direction of the wind, pinching the blanket at the corners as you let the wind straighten it out. Moving the basket to pin the fabric down, all practiced movements. Careful and methodical to ensure your skin never touches the damp grass. Your dress was blush pink today, it suited you. It was one of his favourites, the fabric laying delicately over your skin with small frills at the hemline. You looked like a princess, something that he shouldn’t disturb. He shocked himself today when he sat on the swing, the hinges creaking with his weight. 

Leon bought the swing with the intention of watching his family run around as he sat on it, drinking the bitter coffee he subjected himself to with his partner in his arms. It was what he wanted but it never happened and perhaps it never will. Maybe he was always made to be the fun uncle to his friends' children. His large house entertaining them – that was if he ever invited them over. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to approach the fence today, to finally introduce himself to you. Compared to you he seemed undressed, like some peasant trying to introduce themselves to a princess. 

You didn’t pay attention to the sound of the fence moving, or the shadow that formed over your book as he stood above you. Perhaps you had chosen to sit too close to the fence today. “So you are my strawberry thief I take it?” He chuckled, his voice horse from not talking to anyone in days. He smiled softly when you blushed and looked up before giving a shy nod. Leon watched as you moved to sit on your knees, giving him your full attention. Your eyes drifting upwards slowly until finally meeting his face. His eyes were tired but held the most beautiful colour of blue, his lashes were long and thick as he blinked. The stubble coating his cheeks suited him. “I am” You finally replied. 

Leon’s head dropped slightly as he chuckled at the timidness of your voice, his posture was relaxed as he leant up against the fence; coffee mug still held tightly in his hands. “Do I not get a sample of what my produce gets turned into?”

It was weird to you, with the way your grandparents describe Leon you always assumed he was a lot older than he came across. His form was strong, you see that he had put in effort to get it like that. His job was never mentioned, your grandparents cared little of how he obtained the money to even own the house. Everyone was subjected to their secrets you supposed yet you still craved to learn his. You looked at the scars along his hands as you passed him a cookie; each one holding stories you now felt eager to learn. 

The fence is now a barrier between the two of you, the sun shining down on his hair allowing  the few blond strands he had left glow like natural highlights. The tiredness was evident now you were closer also spying the crows feet that formed as he smiled at you. You found yourself waiting eagerly for his thoughts, maybe if he thought that they tasted good then he wouldn’t get mad at your trespassing for the sweet fruit. Somewhere inside of you now craved for his approval or praise on the taste. 

The low groan he let out once he had taken a bite shouldn’t have affected you the way that it did. Your thighs pressing together slightly to ease some of the tension. “These are so good, your grandparents are right. You are a good baker” He complimented, scoffing the whole thing as if you might take it away from him before he got the chance to finish. You beamed at him, eyes twinkling at the compliment and approval. The sight caused him to pause, to scan over the softer features you held. It was only then he realised how beautiful you actually were. 

How was he allowed to be in the presence of such beauty? He barely deserved this house, let alone to be standing here in front of you. Part of him wished to invite you over the fence, to greet you in the house. Host a dinner with you. Leon knew the state of the house wasn’t acceptable to you, shame filling him with the idea of you even seeing it. Instead he thanked you once more before bidding you a good day and heading inside. Leaving you to your peaceful afternoon. 

However, this time he left the back door open allowing the summer breeze to blow inside along with the sun. 

It wasn’t until a few days later that you saw him again, only this time he was in the living room of your grandparents house. His posture was relaxed as he spoke to them, leaning back slightly in the chair one leg leant over the other. “Oh honey! You’re awake, Leon has left something in the kitchen for you” Your grandmother smiled, a wink following shortly as she turned to look at you. With a nod of your head you turned to walk to the kitchen where a tupperware container of strawberries laid. A post-it note on the top with your name neatly written. 

“Figured you could make a batch of cookies with these ones? I picked them today” Leon said from the doorway. 

You turned to face him, smiling brightly once again. He was leant against the doorframe, his eyes scanning your form. “I’d be happy to, they are the fruits of your labour after all” You replied. Leon chuckled softly, nodding slightly. “I suppose they are” 

“I’d be happy to do it for you though, I can bring them round tomorrow afternoon?” 

It was now his turn to smile brightly before nodding. With that he left you to resume your task, returning to his spot in the chair as your grandparents spoke to him about their plans for harvest season. 

You took greater care in the making of his, each strawberry cut perfectly. The sugar left to marinate slightly longer. It was cute the way you sat in front of the oven, observing them through the slightly browning window. They had to be perfect, Leon didn’t deserve anything less than that. Besides you felt like you owed him this at least. 

You knew the nerves were high today as it took you longer to pick out the dress. Each one felt unworthy to be worn in front of him. A pile of dresses were now left to crease in front of the wardrobe as you worked your way through them until you found the one. The milkmaid dress was a rare one for you, not yet worn this summer despite the way it clung to your curves as you tightened the back. The front extenuating your breasts perfectly whilst keeping some modesty. You allowed your hair to fall naturally today, small wisps of it framing your face after all it wasn’t too windy. You weren’t sure what compelled you to look good today, the outfit was nothing unusual. The worn brown boots still found their way on your feet, the heels clicking slightly on the drive as you began your journey to his front door. Your basket clutched tightly in your hand as if it was some precious cargo.  

Leon waited at the kitchen window, waiting to spy you sauntering down the hill again. It made him jump when you knocked on the door, it wasn't your fault you did it slightly too loud for him. The bangs echoing around the empty house. His brain short circuited for a moment as he tried to calm his heart rate down. Breathing in and out with one hand clutched to his chest the other gripping the counter. When he eventually did open the door he spied you rocking on the balls of your feet. The dress swaying with your movements. You gave him another one of your infamous bright smiles; your hands holding out the basket of goodies to him. “Special delivery?” You joked. 

Fuck, you were so cute. Your cheeks darkened in colour as he stepped aside to allow you to enter. For the first time in months the curtains were all open. The sunlight bouncing around the space eliminates the darkness in every corner. His shelves were filled with trinkets and medals, his couch a rustic brown leather one with seats so plush you knew you could curl up in them. It was basic, something you assumed a man of his age to decorate like.

The kitchen is filled with the basics, enough for someone living on their own to get by. He set the basket on the kitchen island, a mug of tea already brewed waiting for you. The mug was cute, decorated with small flowers. It was clearly a gift from someone, his cup didn’t match. Instead adorned the words ‘NO.1 Uncle’. “I’m excited” He chuckled, unwrapping the basket to get out the tupperware container. A pink post-it note on the top with his name in cursive writing. “Nice touch”

You watched as he took a bite of one, the crumbs catching in the stubble and in his cupped hand he moved in a poor attempt to catch them. He let out that same low groan as the other day, his eyes shutting slightly as if the action made him savour the taste further. It looked like you had touched the front of his jeans, your cheeks heated up with the imagery. Instead, willing your mind to focus on the warmth of the mug you cradled. “Somehow they are even better than I remembered” He chuckled, already reaching for another. 

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment smiling against the rim of the mug as you brought it to your lips. “Seriously, did you do anything different?” He asked, prompting you to finally speak. Hoping that you would eventually relax into the chair, perhaps next summer you would grace him with your presence more. He was in dire need of company after all and somehow he felt like you needed the same thing. 

“I only added some more sugar, perhaps you just need a sweeter pallet” You teased, before taking a bite of your own cookie. Sugar dusted your lips, the juice of the berries giving them a slight shine like a natural gloss. You watched as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, his eyes boring into yours. He was watching for something you weren’t quite sure of. You watched as his hands flexed around his mug, relaxing and then contracting again. His eyes suddenly dazed over before they met you once more. “Are you okay?” 

It had been years since someone had asked him that, it had been years since he isolated himself to these simpler days. He was sure most of his friends would have thought he must have died, his phone left uncharged and on the coffee table. The only thing he didn’t dust for your arrival. He craved your touch, to taste the sugar that still lingered on your lips. It was wrong of him to have these desires but it felt right in his soul. It felt like a reward was finally being granted to him in the form of your soft fingers over his scarred hands. 

Leon didn’t deserve you. Not your attention, not these cookies, the kindness you offered as you directed his head back to you. It was then you saw the man your grandparents cared for, the lonely broken one that slipped through small cracks. That only wanted to help and protect people. To be useful to someone in a way that didn’t involve violence or blood. That was why he grew the strawberries every year, to see you smile as they greeted you in a bright red. He knew it made you happy. 

Maybe that was why you leaned forwards. Your hand cupping his cheek, the stubble that coated it pricking into your skin as you kissed him. You felt the tension fade when your lips met, the sugar and crumbs that coated your lips adding to the texture. His tongue swiping, prodding for access to taste you further. His hands found your arms, tugging you closer without yanking you out of the chair. Your hair tickled the corners of his face as his fingers weaved through the strands. You tasted like his dream, like his future he wanted. You were sweet, so sweet. Brightening his pallet from the bitterness he subjected himself to. 

Your foreheads met when you pulled away, the sun shining brightly causing you both to close your eyes. “We don’t have to– I’m sorry…” He mumbled before you cut him off with a peck. His eyes meeting yours again, this time vulnerability laced them. Longing for a connection. “I want to” 

“You can’t…not me. You don’t deserve my mess” 

His words didn’t make sense to you, perhaps you should have waited longer before you got off the stool giving you both a chance to get to know each other better. You didn’t though, instead you found yourself now standing between his legs to look at him, the pain that lingered in his soul now visible to you. “I make a mess when I bake and get something delicious out of it.” 

It took him a moment to process what you meant, his eyes scanning you again before finally nodding. His frame towered yours as he dragged you further into the house. The stairs creaking under your weight. The tour was brief, informal as he dragged you to his room. Part of him wanted to guide you to the guest room instead, the sheets in there weren’t tainted with the sweat of his nightmares. It was like you knew which one his room was, the curtains still drawn except for that small gap. 

He was gentle when he brought you to the edge of the bed, his lips trapping yours into a needy kiss. You felt his hands run up your sides until they reached your shoulders where he began to pull away at the straps of your dress. He broke the kiss to savour the taste there, sucking softly at the nape of your neck. Inhaling your fresh scent, the sweet vanilla suited you. Your own hands teased the hem of his shirt, silently waiting for his approval to remove it. Part of him wanted to shake his head, to keep the red lines that decorated his skin away from your innocent eyes but for this work. To get what he needed, you had to see. 

“They’re ugly I know” 

You hadn’t expected him to be insecure, to hate the stories you were fascinated to learn since you saw them upon his hands. His breath faltered as you shook your head before leaning in to kiss each one, it didn’t matter if they were faded. “Not to me” 

Not to you? 

He found comfort in that as he cupped your face, directing your attention back to him. His blue eyes boring into yours. “You are so sweet, it’s cute how fitting it is” 

Leon began to unlace the dress, watching as the fabric loosened around your body until it fell on the floor at your feet, leaving you in just your underwear. Your fingers worked on the belt, the clash of the metal on the floor made him flinch slightly. He didn’t have time to calm his brain, to count down in his head like before; not when your fingers moved along the outline of his growing bulge. Feeling his cock thicken beneath his boxers. You smiled at the low groan he let out again, “I love that sound” 

He pushed you against the bed, watching as you laid back. Your legs spread eagerly for him showing off the darkened colour of your underwear. “So wet already? I bet the taste is better than any of your cookies and sweeter than any fruit I could grow for you” Leon spoke as he crawled up the bed. His arms rested either side of your head as he hovered above you, hiding you in his shadow. You smiled at him, shaking your head slightly before pushing him to lay on his back. He needed to relax, to get the attention he’s carved for so many years. A chance to escape the shadow he claimed to bring. 

As the afternoon changed to evening the breeze picked up, blowing the drawn fabric of his curtain open. The sun flickering over your body as you straddled him. “You deserve to be happy Leon, everyone does” You whispered in the shell of his ear. Your teeth grazed his lobe before kissing against his pulse point, moving the pressure down until you reached his collarbone. You watched as your marks blossomed along his skin. Each line of raised scar being covered by you and your claim. “You deserve this after your years of service – you earned those medals on your shelf” 

Each praise caused him to groan softly, his hips lifting to meet yours. You looked between the two of you, smiling at the darkened spot on his underwear. “Please” 

His beg was simple, one word but his voice cracked holding emotions you weren’t sure you could comprehend yet. You would grant him this moment of escape, of pleasure he was worthy of taking. You moaned at the sight of his cock as you finally freed him. The tip glistened with the steady stream of pre-cum he was producing. You smirked at his whimper as you ran your finger over his head gathering it before bringing your finger to your lips. Sucking softly on the taste of him. Leon’s cock jumped at the sight, the needy cock begging for your attention once more. You removed your underwear, the fabric discarded in the pile of clothes at the bottom of the bed. Leon had done the same, his thighs clenching underneath as he prepared for your warmth to encase him. 

For the connection he’s craved for so long. 

He moaned as you sunk onto his length, your walls already fluttering beautifully around him. His hands landed on your hips gripping at the flesh softly only tightening when you began to move. You felt like heaven, the sun giving you that same angelic glow he watched from his window. Your breasts bounced with your movements, your nipples hardening begging for his lips or fingers. Who was he to deny them? 

You cupped the back of his head as he captured one of them, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud as his fingers tweaked the other one. You felt each exhale he made, the air escaping over the soft mound. His name sounded like music as it left your lips in breathy moans. You deserved to be worshiped like this, like the goddess the sun painted you out to be. His house was bright again, the corners rid of any lingering cobwebs. The porch swing was used again, his skin actually felt the warmth of summer in his own leisure and not yard work. 

He felt you clench, your rhythm faltering as your core tightened with need. Your clit throbbed against his happy trail. Your thighs tighten around his hips. He smiled as you threw your head back, your nails digging crescent marks in his shoulders, scraping new lines over the old ones. “Come on sweetie, cum for me please” he begged, helping you move at the speed you needed. You felt his cock twitch inside, stroking that spongy spot. 

He begged for your release once more before it flooded through you. Your head falling to his shoulder as your chest heaved. Leon moved you both, pinning you against the sheets with his own set of needy thrusts. The pleasure tightened his balls as his release grew closer.  “So perfect” He whispered against your skin, claiming you with his set of marks. Nipping at the soft skin of your breasts. You whimpered at the overstimulation, the sound falling effortlessly off your lips as he brought you to another orgasm. He groaned deeply as you milked him, sucked him closer inside. Your legs trapped him, holding him in place as you pressed into the swell of his ass. 

Your eyes twinkled brightly as you met him again, nothing but acceptance and pleasure lingering in them. A silent devotion to love him. He groaned once more before he spilled himself inside of you. His chest heaving breaths that met your own. Neither of you moved, trapped in this moment as his warmth spread inside you. His world was smaller, reduced to that smile you gave him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else would matter, not when he had this. Something to hold, to worship, to service. A purpose again. 

The kiss was gentle as he pressed his lips against yours, the swing creaked with your combined weight as you laid in his arms. You smiled against his lips relishing in the sweet taste that lingered on them after you had both settled eating fresh strawberries. With the red streaks in the sky now finally being able to watch your favourite time of day in the warmth of his embrace instead of the coldness of your room alone.