no one will ever dad leon like di leon i fear… no other leon is outdoing his hairy arms, fatty chew toy biceps, or the tummy pudge i know is hidden under all that gear
actually i will “mischaracterize” leon and turn him into whatever i want he’s my ken doll that i project my perverted fantasies onto sorry that i’m able to expand my imagination and all you can stick to is a script boo boring he’s a fictional character and i’ll play with him how i please
re9 Leon Kennedy x female reader | MDNI!! 18+ | dead dove do not eat, fauxcest, smut, female reader, age gap(reader is in 20s, Leon is 48), failed sugar daddy-sugar baby relationship, car sex, cowgirl, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, implied alcoholism, nipple play, teasing, petnames, dirty talk
summary: Finding a sugar baby felt natural for Leon, less responsibility, less stress about future of relationship. It is as much natural as to be confused as your dad, and as much natural as to get boner because of that for him.
notes: this was supposed to be a short one tbh, but I’m incapable of shutting up so #yea I hope it is still enjoyable lol!! Also while writing this I had two ideas that I cut out, but let me know if i should write drabbles these ideas <3 it feels like a mess to me tbh, so sorry for this, i was writing this while a lot of stuff was happening and i was really confused how to…. write this lol!!! not really proofread too, sorry. reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of interactions are really appreciated.
tags: @melanchol1cs @nekkiotine
It felt weird but here you are, in the middle of the street, farther from your house; no, you won't send him your address, what if he is a creep? He is, per definition, no normal man would look for a younger girlfriend to spoil. It feels unnatural, the skirt doesn't warm your body, the coat does a shitty job too and Leon is late.
Nothing really changes in his life.
He is still the same, only blonde color changed to darker, that is natural he heard, at his age there are no blondes and sincerely, he doesn't care. The inability of keeping a relationship stays there too; Leon tries his best, but nothing works out. First? His girlfriend dumped him before his first day on the job, partially he is thankful for that; if not the night full of alcohol, he wouldn't be alive now. A woman his age? He tried, but all her mouth was talking about is kids and family — he can't give that. Incapable, not in infertile way, Leon just doesn't think he is suitable for this life. At the same time the last thing he wants to discover about himself is his sperm being dead too, the whiskey dick is not an awful fate, it can be reanimated any time; viagra is the best AED.
So finding a sugar baby felt natural, less responsibility, less stress about future and relationship — all he is supposed to do is spoil you in exchange for company, sex and brief illusion of normality. You'd flap your eyelashes prettily, finger twirls hair strand, maybe hug his arm and this would be enough to make his day. Well, no strings attached, in the end this looks like it won't work out too, something lacks, perhaps he is overthinking, perhaps he got too attached, but since first meeting one was clear — if it won't work out, then the only way is to shoot his brain out. Just jabbing the corpse, hoping it is alive.
And he is late, again. You don't even give him time to come out, to blurt a quick sorry, to kiss your temple, and give the sweet promise — it is the last time, next week I'm going to be on time, I promise you, sweetheart — there are too many next weeks and in every of them he was late. Bang! You are not kind to his car, slamming the door shut, with a heavy heart he lets you sulk, Leon's position is not the best, you can always jab at him about his failed promises, about his lack of punctuality at his big age. And if his conscience wasn't so dear to him, he'd keep the count of promises too; it would bring him worse anxiety than utility metre, not so different from digging into a fresh wound with a knife, expecting a treasure and this would only bring him to grave sooner than DSO missions.
"You look nice." He says, his hand squeezes your thigh briefly before you could even protest.
"Well, thank you." It is short, curt almost, but you still look at him from the corner of your eyes, the eyelashes shadows your irises softly like curtains — pretending to not be affected. Well, at least not everything is just plain bad.
The engine keeps roaring softly as the landscape of the cars and traffic light for the whole ride doesn't change a lot nor does it last long enough, cities all look the same after one gets used to it. Engine noise shifts to the loud chattering with clinking sound of plates, the smell of the city and streets is now a mix of food and perfumes from the visitors.
The tone in your voice lacks the usual eagerness and cheerfulness, tracing your traits that are tense keeping mouth shut and curt answers; keeping everything to yourself, eye contact established with the food, not with him, so it won't fire at him. For the best, everything is for the best and nothing hides your anger at him. It sickens him, it pushes him almost to the point of dropping down in the middle of the restaurant; I'm sorry, next time I won't be so late. At the same time he is 48 years old and you'd expect more maturity from him, so he doesn't bother you.
There will be no sex today, there will be barely sweet words other than silence and company. It passes quickly, your figure moves and is replaced with the outline of the person in the register. This is about to end and Leon knows he will go back home to his beloved bottle of whiskey, the one he bought the other day, drowning in the alcohol that feels like an ex wife he can't let go. But better, at least it cradles him until the morning.
"Your daughter is so sweet," Leon nods. "you raised her so well, so cute."
Leon nods again, passing his card to pay for the dinner. "Thank you, she is." Words blurt out easily before he even realizes, his eyes dart to you. Probably didn't hear him or the cashier, standing next to the exit, scrolling through your phone, the blue light of the screen illuminates your features so softly, it makes him sick, nostalgic like your distance is comparable to long distances. As if being besides him would ruin your mood more, today Leon is grateful for your temper.
You are not his daughter. He doesn't even have one, the closest possible daughter is Sherry.
A right thing would be to correct the person, to deny it but his mind is empty, the blood rushed down; his cock throbs heavily in his pants.
A daughter.
Leon doesn't remember how he got in the car, all he sees is you, unbothered in your seat, thigh on thigh, your mouth moves so sweetly, almost in slow motion like in some movie. Something eagerly telling him, the temper seems to calm down. He keeps glaring at you once in a while like you are some sort of a ghost in the seat.
Leon can't really see anything of his, his eyes keep drilling into you at every red light. What if you heard the dialogue? Then you want him dead, perhaps you will block him and never see him again, and if that's the case your hypothetical discomfort is unnoticeable. Maybe you are, but for different reasons; he clearly looks like he is going to kill you after this date. His eyes darted away.
No, you don't look like him. But that's not mandatory for kids to be a parent's copy, still he adjusts his boner which is getting suffocated in his jeans.
Finally, the drive comes to an end with the engine dying; your lips move softly, telling something that his mind is not registering, but there is no need; this is like a routine at this point. He leans in, closer so you'd kiss him on the cheek (like a daughter would do, he believes), on rare occasions when everything doesn't suck that bad, you'd pull him in the back to have sex. Or in the hotel, in this case it depends how busy he is.
“Do you have a dad?” Leon spits out, his thoughts were fast, but not enough to reach his brain and stop him from saying this nonsense. And you aren't kissing his cheek, you don't even consider kissing his lips, staring at him like he belongs in the asylum. When will I see you next time? That's what he was supposed to say, it was a delayed thought.
“What?” Confusion plasters on your face, while shame clings to his entire being like fresh paint from the bench. "What is this about? Were you even listening to me?"
Leon stays silent, rubbing his face just to calm himself, maybe covering his mouth in case something slips out again. Your eyes settle on him, heavy and uncomfortable.
"Leon, my eyes are up here," you mutter. "They are not on the wheel."
"Sorry, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He starts, meeting your eyes finally. Next words don't come out, lingering on the tip of the tongue, but never materializing, what was he even supposed to say?
"Leon." You sound so disappointed in him, like a mother disappointed with her child, he just wants his lips to embrace the cold barrel and pull the trigger.
"I…aren't you bothered? Disgusted?"
"About what?" You raise your eyebrows.
"Well," Leon's hand waves at himself; look at me! A glimpse in your eyes, probably a realization comes upon you; a disgust would be suitable, but your lips curl up gleefully, never giving him the answer, urging him to continue, to embarrass himself further. "I can be your dad." He pauses, this sounds wrong again. "I am old, I could be confused with your dad." Now it should be correct.
"Wait, wait, you were brooding over that whole ride?" A rhetorical question, probably, because you know the answer — yes, he was.
It is ridiculous, the way he feels like a school boy with a crush right now, but his situation is worse than unrequited love could ever be; it is the lack of understanding and one of the most unexpected, such a simple thing to cause rock hard boner in his jeans.
"I think that's the hottest part about you, " you shrug your shoulders, observing his face like trying to catch a slip of shame. Or desire maybe. "Your age, and even if you can be confused with my dad, you are not, soo—" Pause, raising an eyebrow. "What's the issue?"
The issue, simply saying, is his boner. He wanted to say that, but swallowed those words like a bitter pill. "There is no issue, forget it. I hope I see you soon."
Your glance runs over him again, glints of amusement dance in your eyes before your lips press against his scratchy cheek, a long mwah, hand sweetly caressing his neck where his stubble scratches lovingly the soft flesh of your palm. Unexpectedly. "No more thinking for you," you tease him, you are right; his mind is focused on your face, the outside light shines through your hair, giving a divine look. Why was he even bothered by this? Leon squeezes your hand for the last time, while he can. "Less overthinking, handsome, I'll see you this weekend."
———
There is something wrong with him.
And it is not the all consuming guilt that sucks on his blood like a tick, he just doesn't have enough strength to flick it off. It is not another glass of whiskey in his hand on a random evening, Claire says he has an issue with alcohol — he doesn't have it and she doesn't know anything.
Something is wrong.
He still feels like shit. Your daughter is so sweet — those words come back like a ghost, like a snake in his intestines, torturing him. It was supposed to be a quick, weird thing that would pass and he'd forget about it, Leon can't. There was no premise either, after all Leon's taste in porn is mediocre, if one should be nice about it; mostly lesbian porn, pretty, gorgeous women making out, like dolls that jumped off raunchy magazines he had in his 21. Polished to a T, almost alien to the glance, you won't see that level of polishness on the street, pressing and grinding against each other's pussies. Once Leon asked Claire if that's possible, she suggested watching less porn. That's not an answer.
And your pussy looks nice even just pressed against his dick, slick gushes across the flesh, droplets of his own precum rolls down to mix with yours, your hips buck up needily to rub on his dick. He likes how your jaw tenses as his tip bumps against your clit, your whole body shivers and arches into him.
"Mmm… right here, oh! Daddy."
Daddy rolls right on your tongue, it brushes against the back of your teeth before gasping for air, just for them to sink onto your lower lip so many times it is full of blood. Warm, throbbing with it. Leon leans down to kiss the bite away every time, feeling the rushed blood throbing on tortured lip.
Daddy sounds nice, it always sounds good, not a new word to hear to fall from women's lips, but from yours it gives a weak jolt to his dick and a new, guilty need weeps in his heart. Every time you call him daddy his cock throbs inside you, with your legs lifted up in his hold while he'd pound into you with deep, splitting thrusts.
D-a-d-d-y. Dad. You never brought this up, he never tried to bring it up again. And how is it supposed to be? Hey, can you call me dad? Oh, why? My dick gets harder by being called one, that's it. There are no right words for this, so Leon decided to put this fantasy on the shelf and admire it on special moments, such as today.
He wishes you would call him dad. The word comes back in his head like a curse, the way it tortures him every time your pussy squeezes his dick, every time your mouth opens just to call him with the wrong word. And every time it falls from your lips, he learned to ignore the last two letters; -dy falls down, baring the word to what Leon needs to hear, the right word, the right word is dad.
And it makes him harder. Nothing is wrong, because everything just feels right.
Dad. Dad. Dad. Oh, dad, dad will show you.
"You like that? Let dad take care of this," Leon grunts, throwing his head back. "Dad knows this pussy best."
This feels right. A simple word, naturally melting on his tongue, not noticing his slip, only the way your inner walls clench harder around his dick. Gripping like a vice, gushing more than he could even remember, maybe he is that good, but you are lost deep in your mind. Dad, huh, dad knows the best. Your arms coil around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Only then he realized the slip, made his face burn with embarrassment, even though you didn't seem disgusted (you should, oh lord, you have to).
From that day it started, you told him; it is okay, this is actually hot, you don't mind and good lord stop overthinking, we are not related! You are right, Leon doesn't feel ready for a new step, afraid he'd shoot in his foot. But your kisses on his temple, gentle embrace vanished any thoughts of his Matilda, he won't kill himself. And from the same day, you become his curse. At the same time he is spellbound to you; you are natural, twirling your hair before letting your pretty, with lipstick, chatterbox go freely about how your dad is cool (he saved the president's daughter after all!), how much you love him and miss him every time he is at work.
Somehow he is early today.
Leon is not your dad, but you keep dragging this like a torture; are you free? Will you give me a ride? Yea-yea, my uni, of course, what? Don't hide in the corner, what, are you ashamed? With the sweetest tone, enjoying yourself. And torturing him, he can't touch you how he wants in public; frankly, his hands just hang on his sides, while his gaze stays on your lips like they are smeared with honey. You don't try to veil anything, you don't act appropriately around other people with him; hanging on his arm like the pendant on your new bag, giving kisses too close to his lips and putting his hands on your hips. Your friends stare at him like he is a piece of meat sometimes, like a poor man with too spoilt daughter, perhaps Leon is overthinking, perhaps he is tired, perhaps he gives too much meaning into something nonexistent, but those doubts fall off as he hears you chatting with one of them.
"Is your dad single?"
"Why?" you sound disinterested, almost offended at the question; even though your back is turned but your face is vivid in his mind, tensed lips, a divot between your eyebrows and your narrowed eyes, so lively.
"Just asking, he looks too good to be single, but…" She tilts her head, there is a long pause, it drips on his nerves, like a worn out sink on the lonely night: drip— pause — drop, that would keep him awake the whole night. "Never saw a ring on his finger, you know."
"I don't think the ring is mandatory for marriage." Your curt answer, he doesn't want to hear more.
The car's door opens, enough for him to stand and appear in your friend's view, enough to finally stop this bone polishing chit-chat about him. Her hand pokes your shoulder, before nodding in his direction; hey, isn't that him? Just for you to turn and lit up at his face, quick goodbyes, leaving your friend so embarrassed, like she was aware of him hearing your dialogue. That's the last thing he is worried about, because oh god, he wants to pull you closer and kiss you right here, squeeze your ass before with a pat, pushing you in the car.
"You okay?" Leon asks, his hand reaches to pinch your cheek, enough for his thumb to linger on your lower lip. You nod, brightened up like a Christmas tree, almost opening your mouth to catch it.
"Tired." So simple, his eyebrows furrow together, deepening the slot his frown has created over years.
"Tired?" he echoes, urging to add more than just a word. Instead, you nod again. "You went to sleep late again?"
You don't answer, just look at him like it is obvious. After all you were spamming his phone with messages almost all night, that's his weakest trait but you don't seem to mind his short, simple answers, on the contrary, Leon suspects it turns you on even more. You get inside the car, slipping from his hold like the sand and he already misses you. As quick as he can, he follows you, with a grunt sitting down in the driver seat.
"Who does she think she is? For God's sake can't she leave me fucking alone?—"
Blah-blah, Leon leans in, the moment your mouth opens just to keep talking, his own covers yours. The cologne with herbal notes envelops your senses, evoking a gentle winter's embrace which is impossibly warm and welcoming to your heart. He doesn't need to grip you, his smell, presence are so addicting and hold a leash, not tighter than the government gave him, you barely have strength to pull away, to prolong the feeling of his lips moving in unison with yours. The beloved by you stubble scratches your skin, just deepening a need to pull impossibly closer. His eyelashes flutter like butterfly's wings, moving his lips that are full of hunger, need, not shying to rest his hand on your waist, a warm reminder to you he is here, at the same time it serves as one to him too; you are here, you are his and you are kissing him. You sink your teeth onto his lower lip, coaxing a groan out of him with the grip tightening slightly now.
A low grunt, full of displeasure, comes out of him as you pull away, your back is pressed against the car's door panel and the space feels too small for both of you, regardless of how big the car is actually.
"So affectionate for a father," you say, lips are burning and your gaze lowers to his own out of habit; his mouth is parted, reddened like he doesn't want to let go of the kiss that just got abrupt. "You look stupid." Leon chuckles at your words, squeezing your waist, about to retort back, but you are faster, not giving a space to talk. He wouldn't talk over you, he is a gentleman. "That's a big show you are putting for my friends. How would I explain this to them?"
"Say your dad needed a little bit of relaxation, kiddo," Leon says, a quick answer, like he has prepared it, shaking his head in disbelief. "Something like that. Windows are tinted anyway, and…" You know this. His hand doesn't shy to creep lower, with zero patience unzipping your jeans to slip his fingers beneath the fabric, with so much less space. Leon is not in a different position now, blood rushes down to harden his dick. "I wish I could do more than kiss you right now."
You are already wet, just enough to run his fingers on your underwear to feel a dripping patch slowly forming. A disbelief, every time like a first discovery, how easy it is for both of you to get aroused, this bats any remaining doubts away like annoying flies. He is not alone to get his blood rush every time you call him dad in front of other people, your eyes lit up every time he says he is with his daughter on the phone to his colleagues, devouring him like there is a five star meal in his crotch. His fingers slip beneath the fabric, they spread your slick folds by delving in them and applying a pressure on your clit, rubbing clockwise motions as he stares at your face just to catch any slip; your parted lips, trembling lower one.
"Pussy is all wet. Dripping while talking about me with your friend. This cunt missed me so bad already?" Leon teases, a corner of his lips curl up in a lazy smirk. "Maybe I should have kissed you in front of her, would quite satisfy her questions. Is your dad married?"
"Yeah…" you roll your eyes. "— quasi-married to me, " your annoyance at the reminder of earlier leaks through your voice, impossible to hide regardless of your attempts. If you even tried, frankly. Even in your breathless voice, even while your hips roll against his fingers.
"Or maybe I should leash you, with a dog tag," you pause, a soft gasp as his fingers speed up, before continuing with a mocking tone. "Belong to me, return him and contact this number in case he gets lost."
The thought of him not belonging to you is comparable to the bitterness of overbrewed black tea on your tongue. Your fingers tug on the collar of his shirt before they decide to join in fun too — slipping lower, to tug on his belt like one would do with a dog on a leash. Clicking metallic sounds in the car as your hands impatiently unbuckle the first obstacle, tightly sitting on his hips, making your pussy gush more. And Leon can feel it, as his fingers keep the pressure, clockwise motion on your clit, not delving yet in your hole — playing with you, your shaky and uncontrollable hands are hell to you, while his cock is already dripping in his boxers. As the pants are unzipped with the belt, his hips roll agaisnt your palm, only slotting the dripping swell right in it.
"But you are my dad, you are not allowed to leave me." You add eventually with a cloying voice, every note in your tone sounds like music to his ears. Your hand attempts to creep underneath the boxers, to palm his dick and pump it, to feel it throb in your grip, smearing the pre-cum along the flesh and the most important — his face, you like his expressions, always easy for him to let them slip unconsciously, parted lips, bucking up to get them most of the touch, half lidded and lost all thanks to you.
Not today.
"I don't plan to," Leon says, before a soft kiss on your jaw, patting your thigh. "Get on top of me, be a good girl today."
Your body shifts after he settles back in his driver seat with a light displeasure, like he took a candy from you. It didn't take a lot of time to remove your jeans, now straddling him and settling on top of him, your hips press against his; slick folds invitingly rub, at your every little movements, against his leaking with pre-cum cock. He doesn't stop you, your slicked and wet pussy glides across his painfully hard dick, just giving the future taste; a torturuous, it feels so slow, like you are taking your time to make him ache even more for your hole. And more droplets of precum form on his blood rushed cockhead, your eyes, your pussy feel every change; the throb, the droplets that form just for them to fall down on his abdomen. His blue eyes inspects you with the turbulent softness, like a warm air of the summer night before the wind raises with droplets of rain; the curve of your nose, of your mouth and face, imprinting in his memory the image of you (as if it is not living in his mind every day, every hour).
His hand squeezes your thigh, this time harder, to imprint your flesh into his own. "Are you going to give me what I want?" Leon asks, before pausing. Considering, because you won't give it so easily. "Please." You smile, impossible to hide it.
"What?"
His arm snakes around your waist, to pull you closer to him, so your tits would be closer to his face too. "I want my daughter's pussy." Leon utters, his tip nestles in your hole, barely in, stretching it around the thick head which is enough for him to feel your pussy clench.
You exhale, shaky, slowly nudging his cock with your spread hole. "Can't you wait until home?"
"If you cockwarm me in the seat, sure." Leon teases, before bucking up, almost savoring the full thrust but ending up in disappointment — you are playing with him, you pull your hips higher.
"I'm not suicidal enough for that." You mutter before his hand pushes your hips lower, returning to the earlier. "Fuck…Leon!"
"Language, I taught you better." He teases, with a shaky exhale his cock nudges your hole. "Stay still." And you do, letting him sink into you with a slow buck.
A push is enough, his cock slides inside, stretching you more and more. Leon lets out a low grunt, warm, wetter and so right, like it was made just for his cock; feeling how your pussy swallows his cock slowly inch by inch. Velvety walls squeezing him with engulfing warmth that evokes more choked noises out of him, breathlessly, mindlessly uttering oh right here, good girl, taking me so well. Leon bucks up more, to bury himself deeper until the tip knocks to the hilt, filling you suffocatingly, forcing more soft mewls out of you while you stay still — any movement would only overwhelm you more and it is barely anything right now. He doesn't move yet, just letting your walls clench around him in the tight grip, adjusting for you, but savoring the feeling for him. But it is enough, enough to make you throb; you can feel every curve of his cock inside, its uneveness pressing on the g-spot just in the right way, your walls cling to the prominent vein of his cock, the one that pulses hard before cumming inside you almost every rendez-vous.
After he bottoms out, before slowly dragging his dick out and sinking back into your heat. Smoothly, nicely and your wet walls are sucking him back every time he drags his dick out; begging to be inside, to bully your hole until your brain can't comprehend anything. Only him, only Leon, only dad. His hips rhythmically rut in you, settling the pace, every slam is accompanied with the wet skin slapping, as your hole gushes every time his balls nestles flat just briefly, dragging his cock out to thrust it back deep into your spasming walls.
Leon paws on your top, enough to tug it down to spill your boob out, regardless how messy it is right now, slightly digging into your skin and only pressing your chest up as it urges to come back and hide it from him; your nipple stiffens with the contact of the air, chiller than the fabric of your top soaked in sweat, before his mouth covers it, making your body jolt towards him, pressing harder as if trying to suffocate him.
His cheeks hollow, suckling on the hardened nub, not forgetting to brush it with his tongue, the nipple rolls across it, hardening and messy nibbles only enhances your body's sensitivity to his thrusts, to his mouth, to his touch. Your pussy flutters around his dick more.
"D—dad, fuck." A shaky moan escapes, body almost buckles forwards as your hole only gushes harder around him, while his cock ruts deeper into the slick walls just to fill the car with the sounds of your moans. Every time your hips meet, after deep and quick thrust, your clit grinds against his pubic bone just to coax more moans out of you.
"Dad's here," Leon coos, biting on the side of your boob. The pain is soothed with his mouth, licking it away and leaving only a blooming mark. "Dad's going to fuck you dumb."
He shushes you softly every time you whimper, your nails digging into his skin just to leave half-moon marks for later. Leon doesn't care, he encourages you as his own grunts turn into taking me so well, my sweet girl, right here, harder baby, you can do it. Because he knows it, you can leave a bruise on his face and it would work better than a viagra ever could.
"You like this?" You nod with a whimper, fuck, his hips jerk up and you jolt together as it hits your g-spot. "You like your dad's dick? Fuck, you are squeezing me so tight, what a greedy girl." He can feel his balls tighten easily, slapping against your ass as you both keep chasing and melting in each other.
"Baby, fuck, I'm so close." he exhales, keeping rutting into you, even though his pace becomes messier, quicker. You manage to whimper something like uh-huh, Leon deciphers it as you are in the same boat.
And Leon is so close, both to you, both close to cum inside you; he is trying to keep you as close as possible, flesh-to-flesh, burning and suffocating each other. Frankly, it is not hard to tell you are about to cum too, your pussy spasms around him, like electricity running through your body and making it jolt as he slides in and out. His dick throbs heavily inside you, always on the edge. His hips buck up to meet yours, keeping the messy pace as everything becomes hazier. With a final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, giving last and soft kisses to your chest; his cock throbbed for the last time, before, finally, spurting ropes of cum into you.
Your body shudders eventually too, your walls spasm harder around him as the crushing wave of orgasm hits you, pleasant shockwaves dumb every possible thought in the head, falling down on him, letting him to embrace you as you both pant heavily.
"So good," Leon smooches your cheek, while your mind is still drowning in pleasure. "So good for me," Another smooch, this time on the corner of your mouth. "So sweet, you took me so well," His lips shift lower, kissing your jaw. Then return to kiss your cheek, lips in quick succession. Peppering you in it, like a cat in the morning full of love for its owner. "I'm so proud of you. Dad is proud of you."
You frown softly, like his affection is unneeded right now, trying to pull away but he only brings you back against him. "I wanna go home."
"We will go home," Leon promises, finally letting you pull away, with a wet pop his softened dick slips out of your hole, now watching you sit back in the seat with trembling legs, ready to help you. Just in case. His hands come to adjust his pants. "We'll bathe too, clean you up."
The sound of metallic clicking as his belt on pants tightens, finally returning to a more presentable look. He leans over to fasten your belt, as your eyes follow his hands. Pretty, long and slightly roughened — all blame to the field of his work. the white crescents on every his nail peek, not too overgrown, not too short, just elegant enough. Safe enough to suck on, safe enough to finger you. A kiss on your temple pulls you out of admiration, now you are secure; safe passenger, easier to keep promise! "Now we are going home."
puppy! hyrbid leon. your devoted puppy, maybe a bit over excitable during some snuggling in bed. tags: p in v, knotting, switch! leon, multiple climaxes, established relationship. [not proof read.]
You laid in bed with Leon, watching some dumb Christmas movie. Your eyes were drifting shut anyways. Leon kept his arm draped over your tummy, holding your back flush to his chest. You were tired, hardly noticed him nuzzling into the back of your neck. “You smell s’ good, owner.” He mumbled into your hair.
That wasn’t anything new. Leon always thought you smelt nice.. and looked nice, and felt nice.
You squirmed as soon as you felt him lap his tongue over your neck, pulling your body closer to his. Your ass flush to his hips. “Taste good too.” He mumbled, mouthing at your neck. “Leon,” You squirmed, not appreciative of his saliva. But a part of you felt a bit thrilled at this behavior. The type you often scolded him for. Sent him to his kennel for. Maybe it was the feeling of his body shifting behind you that changed your mind. (per usual.)
“Shh, Don’t be like that.” He whined, lazily rutting his hips against your ass. “You just .. smell real nice, owner.” He said once more, squeezing you tighter. You knew you needed to correct this behavior before it went too far. But you found yourself letting Leon roll you over into your tummy.
“Awe, you sleepy?” He asked, leaning over your back. You hummed, despite the fact that this had woken you up. He laughed, pressing little kisses over your shoulders. “Then lemme take care of it. please?”
Leon’s words always worked on you, and he knew that.
“I don’t know, Leon.” You resisted for no good reason. “Hm. Why not?” You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he was pouting.
You sat up and turned to look at him. Propped up on your elbows, you saw his flushed face. Leon was blushing. His tail wagging frantically behind him as he smiled at you. Oh, he’d won you over without a single word. A boyish smile belonging to a pretty boy—your pretty boy.
“Cmon. I won’t hurt you, just wanna make you feel good.” He crowded on you on the bed. All up close and personal. “Please? I’ll be good! Such a good boy. You’ll love it.” His eyes flickered to your lips, your cleavage, then to your face. If you were to ask Leon what he loved most on your body, he’d say it was that pretty face of yours.
“Leon,” You tried one last time, even as he rubbed his cheek against yours. His fluffy puppy ears brushed against your forehead, all soft and twitchy.
When you didn’t say what he wanted to hear, he began to kiss at your cheek. Open mouth kisses til he got to your lips. Leon licked into your mouth, whining into it as he planted his hands on your hips.
You squirmed, a familiar feeling of arousal in your stomach. (and panties.)
“Okay, okay-“ You muffled against his mouth. He pulled away in one swift motion, looking at you with renewed excitement. “You mean it?" He asked, blushing something awful. It was cute how it blotched his cheeks and ran down to his chest.
“Yes. But you better behave, or else-I-"
“Or else what?” He asked, positioning behind you. “I-Well,” You lost your words, dropping your head onto the pillow. It was no use. Once your puppy wanted something, he was going to get it one way or another.
“Mhm,” Leon hummed, his hands sliding down to your ass. “You’re so pretty, owner. Especially down here.” He tugged your shorts down, panties and all. You hardly had to lift your hips, he was too impatient to ask you to do any work. “Oh,” You felt his breath on your lower back, his arms on either side of your hips.
It made you a little embarrassed, your puppy boy, ducking his head down to admire your assets. You shivered at the first wet kiss to the back of your thigh, his hands pushing your thighs open. “So pretty,” He repeated, mostly to himself. You felt his kisses trail to your inner thighs, making you squirm. “Owner..” He whined. “Stay still, would you? You’re moving too much.” He gripped your hips, with no real bite to his words. A frustrated little growl, and he dove between your parted thighs.
You buried your face into the pillows, a hitched breath at the first wet and warm feeling between your folds. He groaned against your pussy, lavishing kisses. “Taste better every-“ He paused to suckle at your clit, running his tongue over it. “Time.” He hummed, kissing at your inner thighs. His hands explored your soft skin, squishy and pliant under his squeezing touch.
You were grinding back against his face, dripping for more. And god knows he’d pull through. “You’re driving me crazy,” He sat up on his knees, shoving his boxers down to free his cock. A nice thick, uncut puppy cock that he guided to rub against your entrance. You bit back a moan at the sensation, sticky pre lathering you up. “Need it bad, owner. Hurts,” He keened, already grabbing at your hips.
Everytime this went down, you knew better than to give into Leon’s whims. But you always caved.
“Mm, okay. Don’t you tease me, Leon. Don’t be a bad boy.” You turned back to look at him. He shook his head, fluffy ears floppy on his head. “No, no. I’ll be good.” He assured, pushing the tip of his cock past your warm cunt.
“Oh, god.” He bottomed out with ease. His stomach flush to your back. “Owner,” he whined, drawing out the last letter, his breath warm on the side of your face. “S’ good..”
You bit back a groan, he was big—always stretched you out no matter how many times he fucked you silly. “Patience” was not his thing.
“Leon,” You mewled, completely pinned beneath him. He was sweaty and sticky. His body warm as he pulled out half-way. “Don’t worry.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Promise I’ll be gentle.” He mumbled against your face, even as his hips began to hump you like the horny puppy he was. You let out a whine, felt his fat cock twitch inside at that noise. At everything about you.
“Owner, owner.. You’re soaking my dick.” He groaned, rutting his hips desperately. Hard and fast, “Leon! Slow down!” You choked on a moan, unable to deny how good it felt to be stuffed full. He was able to keep up his frantic thrusts, slick and smooth with how wet he’d made you. “I can’t,” He whined, his arms braced on either side of your stomach- trembling as he gripped at the bedsheets.
“You feel too good. All soft, and tight, and warm, and wet-And ‘m not gonna last.” He babbled, nuzzling against your neck. His groans slurred into whimpers, drooling on you. “So good, Never wanna pull out your pussy.” He mumbled, licking at your sweat slick shoulder, snapping his hips against your ass. His rhythm became uncoordinated, sloppy thrusts as his release approached.
“Oh god-“ He whimpered, his breath hitching. “Feel that?” He pushed back inside harder this time. You felt his knot beginning to swell. So deep inside, his hips all snuggly against yours. “Mm, owner. I always wanted to do this,” He gripped your hips, jerking you back against his hips. “Gonna fill you sooo good. Fill your tummy up-" He growled between rough thrusts, the filthy sounds your shlick, shlick in the room.
“Leon..” You slurred, taking it like a good little owner. Always giving him exactly what he wanted. Needed.
“Oh, oh, fuck." He draped back over your back, choking out fresh whines and whimpers against your neck. He bunched your hair in his grip, tilting your head up to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth bumping yours. “Nnnm—That’s it, take it—Take my puppy knot-“ He slurred into your mouth. You could’ve swore this is what heaven must’ve been. He moaned, all breathy and pitched as you felt his hips stutter. Sticky blurts of cum filled you up, getting the prettiest whimpers out your puppy.
You whined as soon as he popped his knot, stretching your tight cunt out as he ground himself inside. “Ohmygod—Feels s’ good, giving you my knot, my puppy cum.” Leon’s words were incoherent against your neck, slurred together and pussy drunk. He collapsed onto your back, keeping you nice and full. Nice and tied to him.
“Owner,” He drawled, lazily licking at your cheek. “I love you, s’ much. You’re so sweet,” He hummed, reaching around your tummy. “Leon-?” You questioned him, squirming as you felt his fingers clumsily rub at your clit.
“Don’t fight it,” His fingers were smooth over your throbbing bud, all slick with your mixed arousals. “Wanna feel you cum on my knot.”
“Fuck, Too sensitive.” You squirmed, but his weight on your back kept you pinned down. “Nuh uh. I can feel you squeezing me, your pussy wants to milk me dry.” He smiled against your cheek, rubbing that sensitive spot faster. Anyone else would’ve be gentle, but “gentle” wasn’t really in Leon’s vocabulary.
“Leon, Oh, I can’t,” You whined, feeling your orgasm approaching fast. “Mmm, please? I want make it alll better,” He kept rubbing at your clit, slick and uncoordinated. He was far too eager. You felt the tip of his tail brushing your legs as it wagged excitedly. He was worn out, but it was easy for him to perk back up. Especially with you.
He heard you whining his name, and you felt his cock throb inside. “Uh huh. That’s it, please owner.. I need you to cum on my dick, squeeze my knot.” He was begging, all pathetic whines. “Please, I wanna make you cum, Wanna make my owner feel as good as I feel-“
You mewled, squirming beneath him as your release washed over you, throbbing beneath his fingers—and squeezing his cock. “Ohh,” He whimpered, trembling on top of you at the sensation. He was all overstimulated like you were.
“Owner, Can’t—Wanna do this again, and again,” He panted, chest heaving against your back. “Again?” You asked, ready to call it night. “Yes!” He nodded, giddy and ready to go again. “Gotta wait til my knot goes down,” He mumbled, already excited to go again.
Leon’s stamina was something you’d never dreamed of, you swore he was always in some kind of rut. Always wanting to make you feel good! Leon focused on two things: Playing, and .. you. You sighed, resting your cheek onto the pillow. As stubborn as you were, your bratty puppy saw right through it! A long night ahead of you, you knew it once Leon licked at your cheeks, eager yet affectionate. He loved you bunches, even if he was a bit of a handful.
summary: the night before leon leaves for raccoon city
a/n: idk how i feel about this one so lmk ... just thinking about re9 leon and wanted to write about him
wc: 2.1k
“Raccoon City,” he says, finally closing his laptop for the night.
As much as you beg him to leave his emails at the office, you often find him hunched over his government-issued computer well into the evening. And, as much as it peeves you, having him with you is a blessing even if he slips out during dinner to take an important call more often than you’d like.
“What?” you call from the other room, muting the volume on the TV. The rerun of M.A.S.H. is no longer of any interest to you.
Looking over your shoulder, you can see him, taking his reading glasses off, brushing a hand through his hair.
He notices you watching and repeats himself, looking you in the eye with an odd intensity for a typical Friday night. “I said, Raccoon City… I’m going back.”
“You’re fucking with me. Or—or, you’re fucking crazy because that place doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I’m not fucking around. And, trust me, I remember what happened. Way more than I’d like to…” You watch horror flash behind his baby blues as he trails off. He sighs and shakes his head like he’s forcing himself to shrug off the memories in the name of duty. “But the DSO is sending me there.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Fuck the DSO! It’s a ghost town. No one’s there. Why do they need you to go?”
“Maybe not someone, but something.”
“Okay. And the DSO has other agents.”
“Not other agents who know Raccoon City the way I do. I have a better chance—”
“—Chance? Of what? Surviving?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Great. So, first, no retirement, and now they’re just going to send you to your death.”
He approaches slowly as if you’re a skittish cat that will run and hide under the living room couch where you currently sit. He lowers his voice, as if any tone can soothe you right now, before he says, “It’s never been a guarantee that I’d survive any mission. It’s the same as always.”
“No it’s not. It’s probably like Chernobyl out there with the bombing plus the virus.”
Leon looks like he’s going to shush you despite the fact that you’re in your own house. Everything Raccoon City-related is a secret that Leon is not allowed to tell anyone. Except for his wife. Not by the government’s standards but by yours. You wouldn’t marry him if he wouldn’t tell you about his job. It was a clause that held the same weight as the others in your vows: in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer.
“Look,” he says, equally serious but sympathetic as he places his hand on your shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “I have to go. There’s no way around it. But right now, I’m here, I’m yours.”
There is a part of you that wants to argue. The audacity he has to try to cut a deal is astounding. He’s offering himself to you temporarily. Admitting what you both know: He is only yours when the DSO doesn’t need him. You’re the mistress and he’s forever married to his job—your matching wedding rings don’t mean shit.
But you’ll regret not taking his offer for his undivided attention even if you were to get the same proposal for the next 10, 20, 30 years every night. Every opportunity to accompany him to bed, in one way or another, is worth more than whatever the rest of the world could give you. That’s why you married him—-you couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping without him.
Tonight, though, you don’t plan on sleeping.
His index finger tips your chin upwards so that you’re face to face with him. You could kiss him, you should kiss him, but instead you say, coyly, “Aren’t you a little too old for all that… you know, fighting monsters and whatever? I mean, think about it, what if you have to pick something up off the ground and you pull a muscle in your back?”
Leon’s jaw drops but you can still see the smile in his eyes. He’s not offended, he’s surprised, amused, even, by your change in attitude.
“I see. If that’s how you want to play it, then…” He pauses, picks you up swiftly enough that you’d only know the strain by the tension in his biceps and the low grunt he lets out. “We’ll see who’s sore tomorrow.”
You don’t make it to the bedroom, only about halfway down the hall. One of his hands cradles your head, carefully keeping it from hitting the wall, while the other keeps a harsh grip on one of your hips, holding you in place. The first kiss is gentle, his lips barely brushing yours, pure softness aside from the stubble scraping your smooth skin. He pulls back, forcing your mouth to chase his, and when you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, you tug a groan from deep in his chest. In return, he does nothing to restrain his desire, biting the taut skin of your neck, and leaving bruises from the nape down your collarbone, only stopping to yank down your tank-top and reveal your breasts.
“You’ve got fucking gorgeous tits, you know that?”
“Mm, yeah, but you can say it again. I don’t mind.”
But he doesn’t, he can’t when his mouth is occupied sucking marks into your skin. He teases you enough that when you whine his name it’s more than arousal, it’s impatience. The bulge in his pants tells you he feels the same as you do — He’ll break soon enough.
He sets you down but keeps both hands on the wall beside your head, caging you in, letting you know you’re still his.
“Take those off,” he says, gesturing to your pajama pants.
You’ve stripped in front of him countless times but his hungry, demanding gaze flusters you.
“These too?” you ask, playing with the hem of your panties.
“No,” he decides. “Keep them on.”
With your bottoms discarded, he spins you around like he’s ready to detain you. You make a mental note to buy a pair of handcuffs on your next run to the mall—or maybe you should save yourself the embarrassment and order them to the house.
“Suck,” he says, shoving two fingers into your mouth, and you wish he could see you. You want to feel his cock twitch as you wrap your lips around his fingers, looking into his eyes and sharing a fantasy.
After pulling your panties to the side, he wastes no time stretching you open, pumping the two saliva-coated digits in and out of your pussy, which needs very little preparation at this point. With every thrust he curls them upward, stroking that special spot inside you, making you moan. When his thumb reaches your clit, playing with it almost absentmindedly, you feel yourself start to approach your peak. But with the first call of his name, he removes all stimulation.
You’d be pissed if you couldn’t hear the metal of his belt buckle and the rustle of his denim jeans. With one, two strokes of his cock, he readies himself, only to tease you, sliding the head down your slit and coating himself in your slick.
“Oh my God, Leon, just fuck me already!”
You swear you hear a laugh before he buries himself to the hilt in a single thrust. He doesn’t give you more than a half-a-second to adjust to the feeling of being full before he sets a relentless pace.
“Like this?” Leon asks with a nonchalance that says his body can handle far more than he’s giving you. Not pushing you harder is a courtesy.
“No,” you say, voice shaking along with your legs which, between the pleasure and the force of his thrusts, feel like they might already give out.
“No? How do you want it?”
“I want you naked, in bed. I want to see you.”
“Fine.”
And he lets you go. For a moment, you keep your hands plastered against the wall, certain there’s another order waiting for you. But you hear his footsteps further down the hall.
“What?” you ask, feeling somehow betrayed despite him doing exactly as you asked.
“You can walk. Can’t you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer — which would be, if he’d bothered to hear it: barely.
You collapse into bed just in time to watch him undress. His t-shirt comes off first, revealing his toned chest, broad shoulders, and a trail of hair that you can follow down his abdomen to find your prize for the night. His pants are already halfway off, his dick still standing at attention, not at all patient—aside from that, he’s perfectly composed. And that only feeds your desire. You want to watch him fall apart.
You pull him into bed, and his lips meet yours in a kiss, broken only for you to mumble, “I wanna ride you, baby.”
“Go right ahead,” he says, flopping down on the mattress. The hands he places behind his head are quick to grab your hips as you sink down onto him. You watch the mask of composure slip — his blown-out pupils, flushing cheeks, lips exhaling something vulgar and cut-short by the rhythm you set.
Your hands glide across his chest, finding his heart thrumming hard in his chest, beads of sweat forming on his skin, every scar and freckle, and the blank spaces left for you to mark. You return the hickies he left on your neck, making sure they’re visible to anyone who’s left in that desolate city.
He mutters gorgeous filth as you ride him, hands wandering from your hips to your sides to your breasts, kneading the flesh and flicking your nipples just to watch your reaction.
“You look so good like this, baby. You’re so fucking tight. Doesn’t matter how many times I fuck you, your cunt still squeezes me every time.”
Your walls flutter at his words. You’re losing yourself to the bliss of your orgasm, no longer able to keep up the movements of your hips, forcing Leon to take over. His hands keep a firm grip on your hips as he ruts into you at a frantic pace from below. The feeling is overwhelming, nearly making you scream as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.
You don’t remember switching places—your mind went entirely blank for at least a minute or two—but Leon looms above you now. He holds your thighs to your chest as he fucks you.
“Wasn’t very nice of you to come without asking,” he says, feigning disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” you whine-and it’s not out of worry or genuine apology, but beautiful, painful overstimulation.
He enters you slowly, repeatedly, drawing a strangled cry from you as you feel his length stroke your inner walls. It sends sparks through your body, lighting up every nerve-ending one-by-one.
Despite your attempts to keep your eyes open, they begin to fall shut as the pleasure takes over. All you know is the sound of skin-on-skin resonating with each snap of his hips and his breath growing ragged.
You’re so, so close, and you’re tempted to ask permission but afraid you’ll get denied, but it tears through you before you can say anything except his name. Leon groans, head dipping down as if he can’t hold it up anymore, not with the exertion—and the bliss—of coming inside you.
After cleaning up a bit, you plan to lie with him and talk or sleep or just be, but you end up with him deep inside you for a second, third, fourth time. Sometimes he is on top, sometimes you are on top, and sometimes, it’s something in between. But you’re always face-to-face, or face-to-chest when you’re crying in overstimulation, on the verge of another orgasm and you don’t want to get a noise complaint.
You fall asleep entangled and covered in each other. You want morning sex until you realize how sensitive you are, so you make out like teenagers instead—fervently, sloppily, aimlessly.
You beg for five more minutes and you get it (you get it again and again until he’s getting calls from Hunnigan asking him where the hell he is).
As per usual, you wait for days, and you hear very little. It’s scary, it’s lonely, but it’s not unusual. It’s what you signed up for when you signed that marriage certificate.
Days later, you finally get a knock at the door (double-locked because Leon is paranoid). You lock eyes with the man standing in front of you and you almost think you recognize him, if only for a moment. He doesn’t have to tell you what happened for you to understand.
Leon Kennedy x female reader | MDNI!! 18+ | dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, non-concensual sex, smut, female reader, age gap(reader is in 20s, Leon is 48), codependent relationship, abusive relationship, stockholm syndrome, guilt, suicidal thoughts and threats, unprotected sex, obsession, masturbation, vaginal sex, implied alcoholism, minor violence.
summary: This was a weakness of the last minute, a second even, a man can't be blamed for his worst moments. The guilt has been imprinted on his face the minute Leon touched you, maybe even earlier, the moment his gaze landed on you in that street; not when he shoved you into his car against your will and locked you up here -- that's too much to take.
notes: tbh, i had vendetta Leon in mind as always, but now having re9 and real old Leon this can be applied to him now and i think it suits him well too unfortunately...also big thanks to @miss-oranje-disco-dancer for her help!!! reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of interactions are really appreciated.
tags: @melanchol1cs @nekkiotine
"Fucking misery." You shiver, the cigarette between your fingers slowly dies. It is too cold to keep smoking, even for your taste. You put out a cigarette on the sole of your shoe, before abandoning its remains on the pavement.
The car almost stops next to you, driving slowly, before the window rolls down to show you a man. A man smiles at you, face adorned in weariness that passing years had taken toll on him. you almost catch a young tenderness in the hint of wrinkles adorning cold blue hue of his eyes, shivering like a winter night without the embrace of a lover.
"Can I help you?" You arch an eyebrow. He doesn't look like a creep, more like a drunk man.
"You look lonely."
And you look drunk. You bite that back. "I am not, thank you."
"Are you sure? It is cold, I can drive you to your place," he starts, clearly ignoring your confusion; what the fuck does he want? Clearly, drunk and driving, you don't have that big of a death wish yet. "I'm Leon, oh!" He seems to notice your uneasiness now. "Don't worry, I am not a drunk or a creep; wouldn't be much of a good cop of me if I was, of course."
Doesn't help; fucking pig if that's not a lie. And he smells like whiskey even from a mile, you'd confuse him with someone from a shady crack house. "Man, I'm sorry but…" You pause, unsure what approach to take; creeps don't care about that, they are all identical, and every one of them need different path to kick them away, like a Russian roulette. "No, fuck off, man," You stroke your arms in a defensive hug. "I am not in the mood, find someone better."
With that, you speed up, at least try to. Ending to the dialogue, hoping he will get the hint but your own Russian roulette just shot; your lungs filled with the decay of the city, the dull lights don't bother you that much anymore, almost nonexistent for a brief moment, then everything cuts down to the rough yank on your arm.
Your back hits the rough fabric of the backseat much earlier than your brain processes it, its comfort obviously is not the first thing you care about, the pain of his grip on your arms kicks out anything that is not 'get out'. The acidic smell of alcohol envelops you, sickening your stomach unlike a hangover can ever do; either it comes from him, or the car has soaked up the habits of its owner. Your hands push against his chest until you don't realize how such attempts are futile, then you shift to kicking and slapping, making fuss as much as you can. It gets cut fast with a contemptuous huff.
He covers your mouth, just for his hand to get bitten. His frown deepens at every bite, clearly not believing you'd have so much spirit in yourself, after one, two or three bites, Leon thought you'd get exhausted; it is even more enticing. You catch a glint in his eyes before a loud, deafening slap echoes in the car; your cheek burns, then another and your tears don't calm the tenderness of marks, now giving up. "I am not in the mood for this, be good," Leon orders as the fabric of your skirt slips off your body, exposing your cunt to cold air and him. "Nothing bad will happen if you cooperate."
Your pussy twitches when his saliva drips down on it, much warmer than your skin right now, contrasting so greatly and for a moment, the fog clears. You slap him as another attempt; triumph fills you to the core, just to be whipped out of it by the reciprocating slap of his, much stronger and carrying the last saying in it. All dread, breathing is dreadful, his dick teasing through the folds, the tip bumping against your clit, spreading more of his saliva and involuntarily forcing you to squirm, before his tip nudges your hole that starts slowly getting slicker, less dry. Maybe you are imagining. A push, the thrust is slow, like he tries to be nice, pities you because your own bad mood got your in this situation. Unspoken 'see, I'm nicer than you could expect,' while pulling his hips down and filling you with dreadful fullness, nestling his hips against yours.
A shaky exhale slips out of him. "So fucking tight." The grip of his hand keeps you pressed tightly, as his hips finally start thrusting; his cock dragging back keeping your walls stretched and in one snap burying it back. You whine weakly and it comes out much quieter than you wanted. "Shhh, it's okay, be good." For a moment, he doesn't move, like he's giving you time to adjust; ridiculously little time, his cock starts pulling out just to push it back in with impatient thrusts. "See? I'm good when you are being good."
Leon dips his head in the crook of your neck, invading your space with his cologne and alcohol, whiskey or bourbon; both scents twist your stomach like a knot, the knot that drives your knees to bucke in the bathroom. Your hips arch into him every time his dick, by pure luck, hits the spongy spot, your heels kick behind him as he abbandons the initial slow pace, hungrily bullying your insides; like you are the sand about to slip through his fingers. Your stomach twists with guilt and shame as your walls clench around the hard flesh.
"Oh, fuck, you are so pretty like that." Leon sighs shakily, you can feel his hair clings to your skin, mixing his and your sweat together. His cock throbs inside you in unison with your body tightening at quick, all-consuming ruts. "You drive me mad, so nice, so good for me. That's it, fuck, your hole is so fucking greedy."
He keeps nuzzling your neck, finding comfort in your burning body, biting your skin without a soothing kiss, just changing focus to another patch of it. The sound of your flesh slapping echoes in your ears, making you jolt at overwhelming contact. The vein on his cock pulses harder and harder, as a reminder that this all is going to end, with his thrusts becoming rougher and quicker as he chases the high. A final thrust, burying himself until the cockhead kisses your cervix, you feel it coming with his loud, impatient groan. Unsure what you had expected, but not this; barely felt the supposed warmth filling your pussy, like there was barely any sperm, nor he noticed your lack of orgasm, right now this is the least of his worries. For the last time, attempting to push him off; useless.
You are a mess, in pain, and you just want to go home, curl up in your bed and ignore the turmoil a stranger gave you, a bad dream, something that never happened. He looks at you now, a glint in his eyes; oh, Leon, you fucked up big this time. With gentle tapping on your cheek, forgetting that it is sore, you wince, trying to distance yourself with a weak jerk, your body slowly drifts away, he got the best of you — tired you out.
"Oh God," He mutters, there is no way he leaves you here; his guilt would hang him, or better, pull the trigger. Leon covers you with his jacket before leaving the car to drive back home. He can't believe this, this just sobered him up like he got dunked in the coldest water, glancing behind quickly, hoping it is not real; every time he turns, you are there, unconscious now and probably leaking on his fucking leather seat. "Okay, okay, we are going home, yeah, patching you up."
...
You bit him.
You fucking dared to bite him. It is such a minor frustration, only the place you bite matters; on the lips? Fucking hot, only would fuel him to unbutton his jeans, to fuck you wherever, finger? Cute, really, not like you haven't bit him there before or on his palm, soon he'd need to check himself on rabies.
But his dick? He was this close to killing you on the spot, but it would only burden him with the sentence. Perhaps easier to avoid it, still not his style to strangle you over that. It was the smirk and the gleam in your eyes, so bright and full of glee that he wanted to slap out of you.
A muzzle would be good. Really.
"Do you have a dog or something?"
Yes, you. But if dogs were full of flaws; untrained, unfaithful and just a terrible bitch. Leon nods absently, not giving a glance to the muzzle. That's a gift to you. "You can say so, a little bit untrained though."
"What's the breed?"
He'd say you are chihuahua, they are all bark and no bite and you fucking bit him. "Just a stray one, found on the street," A good guy saves poor you. "thank god no rabies" Again his mind returns to the amount of times your teeth dig into him, Leon doesn't mention that to his colleague. "I believe."
You wouldn't be here if that was the case, man! After that, the guy starts spilling a wave of useless information; my dog is such an angel, she is the sweetest baby and so affectionate— oh do you need contacts—aw, no? that's alright man. All this just for nothing, getting under his skin and not letting him go home. Even worse, just standing there in silence as he awaits for Leon to invite inside, to see his new pet (There is no fucking pet.). Hell no, in no possible alternative scenarios.
"She doesn't like strangers, sorry man." Finally Leon finds a good excuse, a nice one. The colleague dropped fully, he could smell the disappointment. Sorry to bother you, right, oh man— bye! Now Leon exhales, with a light soul, entering his place.
It is silent, almost deadly and unnerving until he opens the door of the bedroom; your figure is on the floor, ankle red from the incessant protests and tugging until you end up exhausted due to your own stubbornness. You shrink at him, avoiding his eyes, ignoring his presence, just to piss him off.
"Eyes up." Leon clapped his hands, just once for your head to snap in his direction violently. Like you just got slapped. "I brought you a gift. Happy?"
You stay silent, Leon just grunted throatily as if to say your answer wouldn't matter much.
To put it on you was a long, miserable procedure to the point he wanted to throw it on the floor and instead slap your cheeks, right-left until your mouth fill with the blood, until the lesson get imprinted in your head; but Leon won. The straps are secured, maybe too tight but a headache won't kill you.
Before he lets go of you, as a last bite, to leave the last word, you slap his wrist just to come back to whining how uncomfortable it is, tugging on it like a cat after surgery with the cone around its neck. Useless, Leon ignores you, throwing some phrases like you will get used to it and you won't die; no one has died from getting uncomfortable after all and he knows that better than anyone after all, there are worse things than some uncomfortable muzzle and he has seen them all.
"When will you take it off?"
Leon shrugs his shoulders. "It depends."
"You just hate me," You hiss, eyebrows serve as curtains in the distortion on your face. "You act like I'm hell on earth," You tug again, wincing in distaste. "Nothing stops you from letting me go if I am that bad."
"I don't hate you," Leon huffs, like you said two plus two equals one. "Why would I? I adore you."
You look offended, grimacing like he just kicked you in the guts. Wow, that's what he gets when he is nice with you. "_You make me sick, sick. You are killing me! Don't you have any remains of conscience? Shame?" Leon groans internally, listening to this after an already terrible day, after you looming in front of him as a reminder of what he has done, and today you are insufferably talkative. "One day you will find my neck with this chain on your door knob and that will be _your doing."
Claire said this is natural, shame is one of the points in the circle of life; midlife crisis it is called, something like that. Not sure if this is his case, there was no word about it in biology books nor has he hit his 60s yet. Still, hearing that made him cheer deep inside; all full natural, even in soul. Useless though.
He tried to apologize. The apology ends up just the same, pathetic, ridiculous excuse that never sounded like an apology to your ears; of course it was a weakness of the last minute, a second even, a man can't be blamed for his worst moments. The blame has been imprinted on his face the minute he touched you, maybe when his gaze landed on you in that street; not when he shoved you into his car. The more minutes passes the more he wishes a day could have less hours in it, shame, like winter cold in the holed apartments, seeps in his bones; you can see it in his languid looks cast on you (they shift on the door before returning to you, like awaiting for his awakening from this dream, anything just to deny the drunken mistake.) long, over-cramped pauses, that adorn you with doubt, before answering to you.
"Then I'd make it shorter," Leon sighs, rubbing his temple. "What do you want me to say? I've already told you I'm sorry." And it is never enough.
And in his eyes you are like a grumpy kid after being grounded for some minor mistake, unfair one. Angry at the world around you, with a silent and passive attitude showing your displeasure as a protest. Leon understands that, can relate at some point; he has a leash on his neck too, the government would have procured a nice one, golden written with 'Leon S Kennedy, golden dog of president', not as tight as before, not as tight as yours, he grew into it with age. Unless it is the drunk day, then he is not that pliant on your bullshit: forcing himself on you, his hand is enough to cover muffled sobs and drown you in your own tears.
...
Tonight the jiggle of keys was not at the time you usually expect; six pm precisely, his car has a characteristic sound that you recognize as quickly as his footsteps. By leaving you alone, your chest fills with the unfairness you didn't expect to have. And the dread, loneliness like you are the wall of the train station, abandoned and neglected, only roots want to consume you.
It is unfair; it bothers you to your whole core, shaking you and just forcing you to engage with the daftest things; probably the time is wrong, it is not six pm, you are confused, right? Maybe he left the phone, you can check it, right?(spoiler, no, he never leaves the phone or anything possible to contact the outer world). Your situation would be perfect, the right time to escape. One day ago, you'd probably be trying to get out of this place, but tonight, you are full of dread and anxiety; they chain you to the floor.
Did he leave you here? Alone? To rot here, to die alone of starvation? Maybe he is dead, a cheerful thought with a more miserable feeling cast on your shoulders.
And life is weird because Leon would never have expected you to dart towards him, your arms coil around his leg. He was late, that happens, but you look like someone has died a terrible death, like you buried him already, and the last step would have been acceptance. Only five hours late!
He is standing there, like a useless dildo, while you cling to his leg like your life depends on it. Maybe that’s a hope your mind painted on him, you’d bet your teeth, life even, that his gaze softened at your tears. Like a fresh air in your lungs, in the troubled and distorted face, something changed, something new you have yet to see; not that twisted expression that appeared so often, like your entire presence is a violent, sore blister that can’t heal.
“I thought you were dead,” you sob, Leon keeps eyeing with a bad hidden surprise. Shock even. “I thought you left me to rot here,” you keep going with your shaky voice, “left me to die alone…” His hand dares to reach for you, running through your hair as you lean into the touch like a cat. “Played with me just to leave me for some bitch!”
“I would never.” It comes out softer than he expected, like a velvety caress that makes one vulnerable. You are the biggest mess, maybe bigger than you were when he brought you here; he remembers well your doll eyes, dull to the point he was himself doubting if you were real. Now you are bawling your eyes out, with snot all out and clinging to his leg like a leech, Leon knows you; there is no middle ground with you, and tears will end just for them to take a new shape as vomit. "You are a mess, what were you doing all this time?"
“Have you thought about me?”
He hums curtly, his hand caresses away your tousled strands, the muzzle has been removed when he wasn't around, something to be expected but still doesn't fail to amuse him. Maybe that explains your messed up appearance, other than bawling your eyes for the whole evening. Leon tries to move to the bed, to sit down but your grip tightens like you are about to be abandoned; no, no, don't go away, please. His heart is weak for pleas, but with a rough shove he frees himself and sits down, tonight you don't need a tug on the chain to pull you closer; you do all the work already, crawling closer to sit down in between his spread legs, where you belong.
"What were you doing all this time?" Leon repeats and you stare at him with silence as an answer. He reaches for the comb on the bedside table.
A good hold of your hair, before the comb connects with it and he tries his best to calm down the disheveled mess. Acknowledging that you are not going to answer his question, the only and best option is to soothe your state, maybe then you will be more pliant to talk; your tears don't get to the point and they make him feel bad today. He doesn't like that. "I was busy, Claire wanted to have dinner with me." You wince when he applies more pressure on the rebellious chunk.
"Ouch, it hurts!" You try to stay still, he can hear your sobs, which are much quieter now. Your hand smoothly wipes away tears. "Claire?"
"Claire."
"Who's that? I don't know her."
"It would be odd if you do." Leon frowns, his fingers run through your strands for a moment, another pause as he tries to compose himself. "A good friend, she was just passing by, that's what she told me at least."
"I didn't expect you to…" You pause, glancing at him quickly to notice his frown deepen, not in contempt but awaiting for you to continue. "Well, ugh… I didn't know you have friends." Well, neither of these sounds good.
Leon shakes it off with a bitten smile, full of amusement, it doesn't worth to keeping that topic alive. His hand pinches your cheek. "But I'm here, I didn't abandon you nor am I dead. Do I look like a dead man?" You shake your head. "Good girl."
...
"It's me," you mutter. "I'm so cold." Leon blinks twice or more. You can't really catch it in the dark, only some light movements that you aren't even sure you didn't imagine them or that the darkness is not painting something that is not real. "Come on, Leon," Your hand shakes his arm just to hear his displeased sleepy grumble. "please."
"What?" Finally. The tone is almost asking you; do you know what time it is?
"Can you hold me?" With another grunt, he drapes his arm on your body, pulling you closer, closer enough to feel his heartbeat; thud, thud, against your ear before your chin rests on his chest now. Digging into flesh through fabric, as your eyes volubly look into his face; searching for something that isn't quite there, lingering on his mouth or on the light wrinkle between his eyebrow, Leon can feel it, studying him as if his face was painted with brushstrokes.
"Stop staring." Leon's palm connects with your face, tonight not in a slap, but like a warm, tender blanket on your face, hiding him from you. A disappointed sigh escapes from your lips, letting the silence of the night linger in the room for a while, he was sure to fall asleep just another minute, yet a muffled sound disrupted that; blankets shuffle for a good five seconds, maybe even more, realistically a good minute passed before he felt a heaviness on his body — you straddled him, maybe that's a sleep paralysis demon taking the shape of you. Maybe you were actually on the floor, not wanting to share even an ounce of warmth with him.
"Leon." Wow, it even has your voice. "Leon, are you sleeping?" He feels your piercing eyes, Jesus Christ, ignore this and it will pass. "This can't be," your hand shakes his arm again, just dispelling his belief of an upcoming terrible, sleepless night. "stop pretending, I know your sleep sucks."
Leon opens his eyes."What do you want?"
"Not a wink of a sleep," you whisper and you can swear he raised his eyebrows. Your fingers run up to his arm, until they coil around his wrist, taking control of it, unsure for how long. "and a lot of stuff in my head, I feel like if I fall asleep you disappear." In the brief, over-cramped silence his hand is guided to rest on your cheek, nosing against it in the need of warmth.
"I won't, I said it already, I'm here with you," Leon murmurs, that's really something new, unexpected and your distress will drive him to a heart attack. "Tomorrow everything will be fine."
"No Leon! You don't understand," you exclaim with shaky voice, yourself surprised by the action; the silence falls again while your mind tries to find next words. "…I'm fine, I am fine, fine, fine… good lord, no, I am not fine, I feel like this is not you." Pause, eyes dart around and avoid meeting his own. "I am fine if you kill me, it is okay if you suffocate me,” you say finally, nuzzling against his palm. Leon tenses, not only because of your odd words, but your other hand creeps underneath his shirt. “if it means you love me, it doesn’t bother me, it bothers me if you don’t do anything.”
You sound so cloyingly, ambrosia would taste like the sound of your words, he feels no different from Ancient Gods drinking it up — you drive him to that divine and supreme pleasure. Your hand pets up his stomach, his flat and hard stomach tenses under your colder palm.
"You can bend me in half, with this hand…" You keep going, nuzzling against his palm before your fingers intertwine together to emphasize the point. His breath catches in his throat the way you'd notice every time you'd press on his guilt sweetly, like a hairball stilling in his throat — it usually makes him want to retch, but this time is different, you both know it. "You can snap it in half, like a stick." You bring his hand to rest on your neck leaving your own on top of his, the outline of your body is not hidden from him even in the lack of light, watching your chest rise up and down erratically, breathing heavier than him at the contact; begging him to prove your words. "Do you understand?"
"What?" His question slips out so roughly out of his throat, not noticing when his mouth became so dry. Leon was too focused on your caresses, on the feeling of your throat moving every time you swallow, tensing up at light pressure that threatens to be applied, on the feeling of your body shifting just to get easier access to his dick. The hand smoothly tugs down his pants and now feathery caress across the outline of his slowly hardening length.
"I'm yours, Leon." Your words go straight to his dick, he feels like his brain is full of sperm and not anything useful, what is he supposed to say even? Okay? Thank you? There was always something so appealing in your distaste to him, the biting (even on his dick), jabbing and trying to make his life harder were so normalized, any other scenario is so alien. Shortly, he hesitates, mouth opens to speak just for it to let out a groan; your hand slips under his boxers, fingers coil around the hard flesh to give a slow stroke.
Another stroke, every time he tries to open his mouth and speak, your fingers quicken, simultaneously running away from fear of what may come if he speaks. It is weird for you not to try hiding how vulnerable your position is in his hands, that's just a thought in the back of his mind, as all the focus is on your hand. Leon throws his head back, sinking deeper on the soft cushion letting you to keep the hold of his throbbing dick, leaking already with droplets of precum that serve as a lube — in no time the room is soaked in with the smell of your bodies, sweat and his fluids.
"I want you." Your voice comes out so hoarse, every word scratches painfully on the back of your throat. Normal people tell corny shit, like I want to hold your hand, I want to marry you and have your kids; it doesn't exist in your worlds, you would never ask something Leon wouldn't be able to do. "If I could, I'd wait under the door all day just to meet you with kisses."
You lean in, almost startling him and expecting a kiss when your face gets all close up to him; to his biggest disappointment, there is no kiss. He grabs your hips, keeping you against him with his own gaze set on your face; your face glistening with the sweat, radiating the burning hot as much as his body, this gives him a peace, you didn't lie and it is not only him so affected. Your body shifts, clearly trying to change position to keep your hand on his dick — nonetheless, the attempt is useless, any gap is filled with him, hindering you from keeping doing what you wanted and with the deep, bitter feeling on your heart your hand withdraws, allowing him to guide your body in position preferred by him (and his dick). With quick and rough tug there and there, cupping it briefly is enough to feel how soaked you are and the pretty black and white striped underwear with a ribbon on the front, the ones he bought you, are laying on the floor now while your cunt is now exposed, slick folds press against his leaky length.
For Leon it feels weird to touch you like that, so freely, the squirming of your body is not from the turmoil he puts you on, but due to the enjoyment. His hands squeeze your ass, before giving a slap as to test the water further.
"Is that right?" Leon smirked, squeezing the heated flesh in a tight hold, just making it more sensitive than before. "You are telling me this so I'd fuck you? Your fingers aren't enough anymore?" You squirm on his lap, pressing harder against his dick and your pussy twitches around nothing as an ugly reminder of your crushing need. "You probably imagine me hitting you, but that's not enough," another slap before bucking up his hips, keeping the tease going as his cock slides between your folds, bumping against your swollen clit just to make you jump(or sort of, he doesn't let you.) "that's why you crawl to me to ride my dick."
He can see your throat bob, you swallow hard anything that wants to come out, something rude, something you would think about all night, reliving and torturing yourself, the same pointless cycle that leads to suicide as a valid option. But you can't, he is alive and with you.
"Please… Leon," you beg softly like a morning bird song to his ear, your own hips jerk against his to get more of your share.
"Please what?"
Your teeth sink onto your lip painfully. "Please, fuck me," you keep going with the same sweet tone, it goes straight to his dick, just enough for him to shift and nudge with the tip your hole, but never slipping — torturing you. "touch me, please, consume me, I feel like I will die without it."
Sweet.
He doesn’t want to be slow, that’s not in his spirit actually — being close to the verge of death due to his ‘_beloved’_ work leads to this, anything slow reminds him how easy it is to die. Positioning it just at the hole, he pushes and you reciprocate the action, bucking against his and trying to make it slower, feeling his cock slip and open you on the tip, and with no harsh motion sinking down — until his grip on your hips interrupt your flow, with a sharp push his dick disappears in your velvety heat and you cry out from the sudden fullness, painful stretch with little time to adjust.
Your pussy is warmer, wetter than he ever had it and better than your hand that was jerking him off before. Leon sighs heavily, as his dick stretches your slick, velvety walls and they grip his hard length tightly, engulfing him with the addictive warmth, there is no doubt you can feel every curve of his dick, he can tell it by you holding your breath and rolling your hips against his, arching slightly deeper with the ache of getting everything out of this night.
Short, quick thrusts, not giving even little space of emptiness in your body; your head rolling to the side, as his eyes got used to the dark they can see blurry outlines of your almost drooling expression as his tip kisses your cervix. You are perfect right now, with face painted in bliss and every noise that falls from your lips is stutterily moans, as his dick glides effortlessly inside you with slick gushing more and more, just to drip down on his skin. The curves of your body jiggle with every rough push, your soft tits lull him to play with them, to bite and leave marks, to slap them, but right now Leon is obsessed with your utterly lost face; hidden gem, Bernini's muse for ecstasy.
Right here, fuck, Leon, that's it! Oh Leon, Leon, Leon. Oh Leon!
"Oh Jesus, look at you," Leon groans, he grips your jaw to dip his thumb in your parted mouth. With a low hum, you suck on it; you don't need to be ordered around tonight. "Do you like my hands so bad? Suck it, soak it well, show me how you'd suck my dick." Like your mouth and pussy are connected, your walls clenched down around his throbbing dick. Leon's hips buckle up, your clit grinds against his pelvis just intensifies your suckling on the finger, with hunger in your eyes, it rolls across the tongue and leaves bites at particularly harsh thrust, as his dick keeps bullying your insides. "Careful, don't bite it off." He needs it after all, needs it to play with your clit while his two digits would be deep inside your pussy.
Your movements try to keep up with his pace, quickening as his balls tighten almost painfully, like his whole body hastens him to fill your pussy. His thumb retreats from your mouth with a loud pop echoed in the room, now with bruising grip on your hips, you can feel he is so close, every thrust feels like the last, throbbing and pulsing inside you as he buries his cock with hard slams, flesh hitting and reddens at the harshness of the chase for the upcoming pleasure. And you can't think, your head is full of feather, there is nothing other than him, him, only him, his hands on your flesh, his dick hitting the spongy spot inside you, him, oh Leon, and thighs clenching hard as your body tries to arch deeper into him. With last stuttery thrusts, he buries his throbbing cock with heavy breathing, it spills the load as you both relish in crushing waves of pleasure, like unpredictable force, they sweep you off and drown you in its sea.
Leon keeps the hold of your hips, squishing them painfully as he cools down slowly, a light burning smooch on his forehead, a gentle caress brushes his hair away as after one kiss there is another, just to feel your lips pepper his face leaving wet marks as overwhelming urge of affection calms down and you end up cuddling his side.
...
The morning sun hits his face ruthlessly, its rays don't kiss him gently and doesn't lull him to sleep, it avoids curtains (he forgot to close) like a punishment for what he did; no, Leon, don't even think about falling asleep peacefully, after all he is trapped as much as you. He feels disgusted with himself, your body is so warm, cuddling to him at the first sight anyone would think you are a couple, weird a little, with a big age gap, but still a couple. Leon is not sure other than he emptied his balls inside you tonight, without tears and violence. Alien, unnatural. Your fingers pinch his skin, kicking him out of his disappointment and now focusing on you; with an almost innocent curious stare directed at him, clearly studying him like he is made of marble. Leon's jaw goes slack, the silence stills in the air like a bad omen and he is not sure if you are just too dumb or you professionally ignore it.
"…You need to go," Leon says finally, pushing you aside and sitting up, about to get ready and drag you outside. Freedom. "I can't keep you here anymore, come on." When his eyes returned to your face, he expected a relief actually, he expected you almost jumping on the spot, erratically getting ready or something similar just to ease the ever eating guilt in his chest, instead you look like your favorite pet just died.
"You are kicking me off?" You ask, eyes glisten like orbs of a vintage doll. Kicking off? No, he is freeing you — that's what he is about to say, but your clinginess to his body erases everything in his mind.
"You need to go, to your family." Your hands grip harder, your head is tilted back to look up at him, still half of your body is on the sheets, clinging to him like Psyche to Eros. "To your friends, they clearly missed you, you know."
"Did I upset you? Leon, no, please, I feel like I am going to die," You mutter with panic spreading in your eyes. "please, please, Leon, I feel like I WILL die. There is no one, Leon, they don't care."
This is ridiculous, he tries to push you away and drag you on the floor; he can't, his limbs are numb and your tears only strengthen the weakness. Leon shakes his head with a huff. "You don't deserve this, come on." He taps your back gently, hoping you'd withdraw.
"Can't you see? No one looked for me, you know, I'm sure of that," Leon never checked news or posters on the streets, just the idea of seeing that left him with cold sweat. "I'm alone, lonely, as lonely as you are, please, don’t deny yourself my company, no one wants me and I don't want anyone, Leon, please. Is it about my biting? Or clinginess? Tell me to stop, I won't bite you, I won't threaten you with killing myself — I'll be good."
xD I'm joking. But damn I'm a little surprised by how on the nose this is.
Link to the quiz be warned it does open with a somewhat flashy gif but it goes away once you start.
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