summary: He watches for a while, analyzing and comparing how your face contorts with each sigh that escapes your lips. He picks up the speed at which our fingers move, the circles they make, and how your chest rises and falls. He wouldn’t mind painting this.
words: 1.8k
a/n: i yearn for down bad, filthy Leon, do you? (rhetorical question), enjoy!!!
Ever since you became part of Leon’s life, his world started orbiting around your presence. He says it time and time again like a mantra, how you’re the best thing to ever happen to him; a gift delivered from the gods on his doorstep.
Usually, hybrid owners complain how chained they feel to their hybrids, how sometimes they can get too much and they just need a break from all the chaos and constant attention they require. Usually in these conversations Leon sits there looking as clueless as he did back in calculus class in high school.
He can’t imagine being sick of you, if anything he feels like a leech on your side; too greedy and nothing ever feels like enough. Not quite sure what exactly the scientists who curated you in the lab mixed in, but heroin is definitely an ingredient. One kiss is never enough, nor two, seventeen will do for the next two hours before he needs to replenish again. Sometimes he feels like you’re the one who’s had enough of him and will throw him in the shelter yourself.
He wouldn’t want anyone to see how you have him wrapped around your finger, would be detrimental for the brand. The only person who even came close to see a quarter of what you have to put up with was Claire, all because he didn’t know she was at his place when he came home. She teased him for a while, saying shit like “never knew men can experience cuteness aggression” blah blah blah.
Anyways, he could go on and on about how he’d let you rip his heart out and use his body as Christmas decoration; but these sorts of wholesome conversations he can carry later on. The two of you have fucked a lot, like a lot a lot, like he doesn’t do cardio in the gym anymore kind of a lot. And he blames it in this whole stereotype of how horny bunnies are, and how in the wild they just hop, eat, reproduce and die. Obviously, he isn’t trying to sexualize you or objectify you or whatever buzzwords he can think off; he just wants to make sure your needs are met—except he’s the one to almost always initiate every time the two of you have sex. He says almost always because this time it’s different.
Coming back home from yet another day in hell, he parks his car before grabbing the pizza box from the passenger seat. He came back home early today, lucky him. But seriously, it is nice to be treated like your agency’s golden boy and pretend like they won’t turn around and replace you the minute they find you dead in a ditch somewhere.
Point is, he needs to work on his “pessimistic mindset” because it blocks your chakras or whatever bullshit that random show he put on when he couldn’t sleep said. Now he’s more focused on getting fat and drinking till he passes out on the couch.
That was the plan at least, until he heard your soft whines coming from the bedroom. He’s aware that he just said how bunnies are fond of sexual pleasure, but it was always a way for him to feel a bit better about himself for not being able to control himself around you. But seeing you pleasure yourself was a sight to see.
Perhaps it’s his fault, ruined you a little too much with his lips either constantly chugging liquor straight from the bottle or between your thighs. He doesn’t even regret it, not with the way his cock is throbbing watching the outline of your fingers do the work. A twinge of jealousy is definitely present though; how many opportunities has work taken away from him when those fingers could’ve been his. Not an artist himself, but this is what he would imagine Micheal Angelo felt like staring at the Sistine chapel after months of work. Instead, each panel is a different memory of each time the two of you had sex—he wouldn’t mind painting that, actually.
He watches for a while, analyzing and comparing how your face contorts with each sigh that escapes your lips. He picks up the speed at which our fingers move, the circles they make, and how your chest rises and falls. He wouldn’t mind painting this either.
You finally open your eyes and catch his figure leaning on the doorway. Immediately pulling your hand away and laying on your side with your back towards him. A part of him disappointed with how quickly he ruined it for himself because he was too busy ogling at you. Smiling, he steps closer.
“What were you doing?”
You remain still, is this like a survival instinct that bunnies have that he wasn’t aware of? Playing dead? He sits at the edge of the bed next to you; leaning in over your frame looking at your closed eyes.
“Are you playing dead, baby?”
You start snoring, mimicking the same snores he makes when coming back home from a 34-hour mission; and he kinda hates you for it.
“Ohhh asleep, my bad.”
His hand slots on your thigh, and he watches your reaction for a moment.
“Weird, people usually frown in their sleep.”
Knots immediately form between your brows and it takes everything in him to not bust out laughing. Listen, he said you’re the cutest thing out there; not the smartest. But alas he has to be supportive.
“Well, since your asleep; I might just help myself out.”
His large arms hook your thighs and pull your body to the edge of the bed before slipping off your shorts. Pushing your legs apart, he tuts as he grabs the waistband of your panties, his eyes glued on the wet spot in the apex of your thighs.
“Completely soaked, you’ll catch a cold.”
He releases the waistband from his finger, letting it snap against your skin. Your panties slide off with ease as he twirls the piece off fabric on his index before shoving it in his pocket. His eyes catch one of yours opening to watch what he’s doing before shutting again. Choosing to play your games, he clears his throat and faces your weeping cunt; pulling your lips apart taking in the amount of slick dripping down.
Impressive, but he’s done better.
A soft gust of wind blows from his lips, the cold air hitting your sensitive clit making your hips buck. He holds you down, taking in a deep breath before going in again and again and again—he’s about to pass out, and again; before you finally have had enough.
You lift your head, utterly offended; and he didn’t expect any less than that.
“Hey, sleepy head.”
Your nose twitches, and he retorts with the widest grin he can muster.
“Was drying you up. Can’t have you getting sick, sweetheart.”
“No.”
“No? You want more?”
You nod your head.
“What do you want?”
“Kisses.”
“On your lips?”
Your ears flop in frustration as you shake your head.
“Where then?”
You point between your legs. Usually, he’d have you say it out loud, but he’ll let it slide this time because you’re embarrassed—and because he’s so hard it’s actually starting to hurt. Either way, he wasn’t planning on giving you what you want.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I think you’ve had enough foreplay.”
Before you could protest, he pulls your thigh flipping you onto your stomach. He gets up and works on unbuckling his belt and you arch your hips like its second nature. Climbing on the bed behind you, he circles your clit for a bit before swiping his fingers at your slit collecting your slick on the digits before tasting them. Just because he’s not eating you out, doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to taste.
He strokes his aching cock a few times before teasing it against your entrance. A playful pat being placed on the swell of your ass.
“Having fun without me? Really hurt my feelings, baby.”
Bucking his hips forward, the two of you let out a moan at the stretch.
“Sorry, daddy.”
Placing his arms on either side of your head, he moves your hair out of your face.
“No, you’re not. Dirty fucking bunny.”
A trail of kisses is placed from your neck till your lower back before grabbing a handful of your ass.
“Come on, baby. Apologize.”
You begin to move your hips, forwards before pushing all the way back. He lets out a few groans, placing his hands on your hips for encouragement but letting you do all the work.
“That’s it. You take it so well, baby.”
You pick up the pace with every word of encouragement dripping from his lips. He encages you again, picking up your chin and connecting his lips with yours as your hips keep on moving.
Your legs get noticeably weaker after a while, and he’s afraid that princess treatment still applies even when you’re not on your best behavior. Deciding to have some pity on you, he snaps his hips causing your whole body to jolt forwards earning a chuckle from him. Claiming his lips with yours again he picks up the pace, the sounds coming from where the two of you connect making more slick drip down your thighs.
“Feel good?”
“Yes.”
He places his hand on your head, bringing your head flush against the sheets as he feverishly penetrates into you again and again. You whine beneath him; your orgasm being sensed with how your walls twitch.
His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers together comforting you. Even after experiencing you for the thousandth time now, he still can’t believe how good you feel around him.
“So good, sweetheart. So good f’me.”
“Little hole made just for me.”
Sweat begins to coat your bodies, the hair at the base of your neck sticking to the skin as the smell of sex fills the room. It takes a few more snaps from his hips before your body begins to shudder beneath him.
With you reaching your orgasm, his movement gets increasingly sloppy. Your hips quake and your thighs turn to mush, his hand being the only form of support. His back is flush against yours; his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck taking in your scent as he reaches his.
A few choaked out moans escape his lips, feeling his warm release encapsulate his cock. He tries his absolute best to not crush you beneath his weight, pulling out his cock from your filled cunt with a wet schlick earning a moan from the two of you. He watches your mixed fluids run down your folds, his fingers collecting the white colored fluids and fucking them back into your spent pussy.
Leaning over, he places a few wet kisses on your clit; his mouth lapping at your cunt. He tastes the two of you on his lips till you whimper from overstimulation beneath him causing him to chuckle against you.
hiiii i just saw ur blog and im excited! could u please maybe write a fanfic where re9 leon and reader are married and he comes home from a rough mission to his wife making dinner…and ends up hungry for his wife iykwim. ill let the rest of the plot be up to u and if you dont write smut ignore this!
hiii thereee! you're excited? girl I'm the excited one, you're my first request! yay!
ask and you shall receive :)) hope you enjoy!
ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇꜱꜱ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ
𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙!𝙡𝙚𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
content: mentions of Leon's trauma, comfort, smut, fluff, porn with plot, oral (male and female receiving) p in v, creampie, Leon's got rough hands ;))
word count: 3,3k
divider credit: @/cursed-carmine <3
The house was dimly lit, the smell, a mixture of red wine and meat cooking in the oven.
Your favorite jazz playlist played softly in the background while you made your way around the kitchen. You knew Leon would find this playlist corny as hell, but you also knew it would probably bring a smile to his face when he walked through the door.
You saw a gleam of white light cross the kitchen from left to right, and the sound of Leon's SUV engine.
As you were making your way towards the garage door, you were trying to calm the tickles that you felt in your stomach. They weren't like butterflies, they were more like… Moths. You dreaded when Leon came back from a mission looking disheveled, devastated and sick of his life. You always tried your best to make his coming back as enjoyable as possible. But sometimes it was hard… Most of the time he appeared dissociated. You helped him through dinner, a bath, and then bedtime. But still, even in his unconscious state, he would sleep with his arms tightened in front of his chest, as if he was covering himself from the dangers of the outside world.
You stood there in front of the door for a solid minute, but finally opened it, only to find Leon still sitting inside his car, face serious. He looked tired.
You sighed sadly, and approached him.
A few soft knocks on the window made him snap back into reality.
He got out of the car and hugged you immediately. No words needed. He inhaled deeply through his nose, almost as if he was trying to remember all the details. You could feel his fingers pressing against your lower back in a way that feels like longing.
“I missed you”, You said first, your voice muffled against the crook of his neck.
“Me too. Too damn much.” His body felt tense, his muscles around you, rock hard, and his breathing was becoming a little too fast.
“Hey,” You searched for his eyes and held your gazes together. “It's okay. You're home, safe and sound, and you're with me. I'm right here.” You hugged him tight once again, rubbing his back and breathing in and out to help soothe him. “Wanna go inside? I'm almost finished making dinner… You probably wanna get changed, freshen up, right? Take all the time you need, my love.”
As you both head inside, you catch a small hint of a smile on his face. It doesn't quite reach his eyes just yet, but it's there, sincere and relieved.
The very moment you walk through the door, the smell hits. You think it feels welcoming and warm, and you hope Leon feels it like that, too.
“Finally… A homemade meal. God, I can't tell you how much I missed this.” He turned around to face you and pressed his steady arm against your waist, his head falling into your cheek and planting a firm kiss. He found your lips immediately after, and smashed them together.
His lips felt dry at first, but you quickly fixed it by running your tongue over, slowly, tasting that characteristic leather smell, and even a hint of alcohol.
You frowned slightly, but decided to remain silent. He just got home.
He buried his fingerprints into the skin of your hips, feeling you, making sure you were real, and not just another one of his hundreds of dreams. You're used to this little ritual he has every time he comes back home from a mission. He always finds an excuse to touch you… He needs to make sure. Not that he even needs an excuse, of course, but you enjoy listening to all of his awkward, endearing comments about ‘how pretty that sweater looks on you, is it 100% cotton?’ while he fidgets with your wrist and fingers, or ‘did your hair grow already? last time I saw you, it was up here, and now it's all the way down here!’, while he points towards a growth of about... an inch, or maybe even less than that.
“It's good… That you're already relaxing…” Your voice was low, soothing. “I know you had a hard week. But I'm here for you, yeah? We'll have a nice dinner, then I'll set up the bath for the both of us, it'll all be like a spa…”
Leon smiled at you, full-on smile. His eyes sparked tenderness. “I love you so, so much. You have no idea.”
You smiled back at him, with that same intense feeling. “I love you more.”
He kissed your forehead, and exhaled.
“I seriously need a change of clothes, I'll be right back.” He said, while undoing his belt. He disappeared into the master bedroom, and you turned around to finish up with the last details of dinner.
You grabbed a lemon, cut it in half, and then chopped up some cherry tomatoes, garlic and basil. You were humming to some of the familiar jazz melodies, while your heels were click-clacking against the hardwood floor.
You felt a pair of strong hands wrapping around your waist, and hugging you tightly. Leon rested his head in the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, and took a few deep breaths. You smiled, enjoying the way he allows himself to relax into your body. You're fully aware that you're his safe place, and you let him have it.
“I’m not sure what you're cooking, but damn, woman, it smells heavenly in here.” He spoke, his voice coming out lazy and raspy. The hum of his throat tickled your skin, and that sent a shiver down your whole back. You smiled and gave him a sweet kiss on the side of his head, his hair falling slightly over his eyes.
“Take a seat, I just need to make sure the tomatoes are candied and I'll be done.” You said, while grabbing the frying pan.
Leon shook his head. “I'll help you set the table, then.”
“Leon, no, wait! Please, sit down and I'll take care of everything.” You said, eyes focused on the frying pan, but body language urging Leon to just sit and relax. He just laughed. That deep, hoarse, sweet laugh.
“No way. I'm here now, I'll help you finish up whatever detail is left. Y'know it's the least I can do for you, gorgeous.” He moved around the kitchen with such nature. His black sweatpants a bit loose around his hips. If he stretched enough, you could see the skin of his lower abdomen, and his defined V shape. He was generally a bit tanned due to his trainings and long missions, but in that area, you could see where the sun didn't hit as much. The happy trail of body hair disappearing into the hem of his boxers made your mind wander places you shouldn't be going to right now, especially not when you're in front of the burning hot stove.
You sighed, taking your eyes off of him, and back to the frying pan, where the tomatoes were well enough candied already. You turned off the stove, and thanked him for his help. You understand that he needs some kind of normalcy after going into fucked up missions like these.
As you both sat down to finally eat, Leon took your hand, and left a tender, soft kiss, not taking his icy blue eyes off of you. You almost melted right there and then.
“Thank you for welcoming me like this. I've never felt this… Loved.” He said, voice low and soft. His gaze held something touching and warm in it.
“Leon… Oh, my god. Don't say it like that. It's like you don't believe you deserve all this… Fuck, you deserve this and even more. And I'm happy to oblige and be part of your day-to-day.” You could already feel the tears forming in your eyes. If only he could truly see how loving he is, all his potential… You're willing to try every day for the rest of your life to convince this man how good he is for this world.
Leon smirked. He knows you're the sentimental type. He's aware how hard you try to make him feel at ease. And hell, it works beautifully.
“C’mere.” He said, legs spread out, hand patting his own thigh. “I missed my wife.”
You laugh and almost jump onto his lap. You sit on his right leg as he holds you firmly with a hand around your waist, and with the other one, he tastes the delicious dish you made. He moans, feeling content, mouth full of food, and looks at you. “Damn, if you weren't already my wife, this sure would've been enough reason for me to marry you right here, right now.”
You roll your eyes at his corny jokes, but the smile on your face is bigger and brighter than the moon itself. You steal his fork, grabbing some of his own food, even though you got your plate right beside you.
“Oh, baby, if you wanted me to feed you, you could've just asked.” He steals back his fork from your mouth, and keeps feeding you. You open your mouth, eyes fixated on his, and slowly grab a bite.
When you do so, you feel his fingers pressing down harder onto your waist.
The atmosphere felt so surreal, so intimate, you almost feel like a damn teenager all over again. But you have grown accustomed to this feeling by now; Leon's got this kind of superpower that makes your knees go weak, and your brain foggy. You can't think straight, especially not when he stares at you the way he is doing right now.
You kiss the slightly bruised knuckles of his left hand, which was left suspended in the air, fork still in hand.
In one swift movement, Leon sets his fork aside, his hands sliding down to grab you and pull you closer as he lifts and shifts you properly onto his lap, your legs falling naturally to either side of him.
Your breath becomes agitated, and Leon is looking at you with a knowing smirk. The motherfucker knows you so well.
“We haven't even finished dinn-” You start, but are interrupted by the sudden feeling of his heavy lips on yours.
“Dinner's great, but I'm not exactly hungry for that.” He whispers, voice muffled by the sloppy kisses.
Almost immediately, you feel a warmth rising from deep within your core.
You wrap your arms around Leon’s neck, your fingers naturally finding their way into his hair, tangling in it and slightly pulling.
Leon exhales and looks at you with darkened eyes, his pupils blown. He grasps a handful of your hair at the nape of your neck, giving it a firm tug that tilts your head back, giving him enough space to bite, lick, and leave marks along your collarbone.
You let out a breathy moan, a sound that always drives Leon closer and closer to the edge.
You feel him growing bigger beneath you, and suddenly, his loose sweatpants seem to fit a little tight around him.
“God, baby, I missed you so much.” You say, your body trembling, arousal growing hotter and messier between the two of you. You desperately search for his lips. You wanna kiss him forever, make him feel real good, get on your knees, whatever, everything, all at once. You'd take a bullet for this man, and you always make sure to let him know just how loved and cheered he is.
“Earth to gorgeous… is my wife in there somewhere?” Leon teases, his smirk playful.
Your cheeks are already flushed, but somehow they grow even warmer. “Daydreaming again, huh? I’m right here… you wanna take advantage of that?” His voice is smooth, seductive– like velvet. It's almost like he's challenging you.
He draws a smile from you, and you catch his lower lip between your teeth, biting just a little harder than necessary. Leon groans, his brows furrowing, you can see the shift in his expression, the thoughts flickering behind his eyes.
Leon places both hands on your hips, slowly beginning to rock you against him. You quickly catch on, matching his rhythm. The fabric of your clothes brushes against you in all the right ways, drawing a soft hum of contentment from your lips. The feel of Leon’s strong hands on your body, gripping you just right– it’s enough to drive you insane.
He finds your lips again as his hands move to your belt, undoing it. Just as quickly, his hand slides down, squeezing your ass. He stands, lifting you with ease, quickly pulling your jeans off, your heels hitting the wooden floor with a sharp click. The cool surface of the table beneath you makes your breath hitch.
Leon wastes no time, his mouth finding your neck, relentless, like he can’t get enough.
Just when you feel like your heart might burst out of your chest, Leon guides his hand lower, pressing his fingers against your soaked panties. The contact alone makes you squirm, a soft gasp leaving your lips.
“I can tell you missed me,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Can you tell I missed you too?” He takes your hand, guiding it down, letting you feel the heat of his pulsating cock through his sweatpants.
A whimper escapes you as your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, your bodies pressing together. The friction is enough to feel him, feel his cock curled upright, pressing against your lower belly, and it makes your breath catch in your lungs.
Leon undresses in front of you, giving you a moment to take him in. You let out a quiet sigh, certain you’ll never get used to the sight of him.
Then he’s on you again, lifting your tank top and cupping your breasts, his mouth following a moment later. Hungry, like he’s been deprived.
You tilt your head back, eyes falling closed as you lose yourself in the feeling of his warm tongue against your sensitive nipples. He knows exactly what it does to you, and takes full advantage, biting, sucking, drawing soft arches from your back.
The sudden brush of cold air against your chest makes you shiver, his absence immediately noticeable. You glance down to see what he’s doing, but you barely have time to react before your panties are pushed aside, his mouth finding you, slow and deliberate.
You cry out at the sudden sensation, moaning his name multiple times, and pulling at his hair.
Leon lets himself enjoy the moment. Every little sound that slips past your lips, and every squirm that makes your body have that electrifying feeling.
He pushes his tongue inside you and your eyes roll back, gripping the edge of the table tightly, your knuckles turning white.
He shifts upward, his tongue finding your clitoris with purpose as his fingers slip inside you, drawing a sharp breath from your lips.
“Leon, fuck, I can't– Ahh– God, that feels so fucking good.” You manage to say in between short breaths. Your thighs press Leon's head slightly, and he feels like he's in heaven. He murmurs something you can’t quite make out, the low vibration of his voice making you shiver.
He quickens his pace, each movement drawing a deeper reaction from you, and soon your hips are moving up and down, unable to stay still. Any sense of control fades, your body responding on its own. You feel that familiar warmth slowly growing and spreading all over your body.
“Leon, I'mma– I'm gonna– Fuck!” You whimper, and Leon doesn't stop, he pushes his fingers deeper inside of you, working his way towards your orgasm.
You moan his name at the feeling of release, looking desperately for something to grab, and Leon gets back up, holding you still, his hands softly caressing the bare skin on your back.
You kiss him, tasting yourself in his mouth, and that turns him on even more. He lifts your legs, settling them over his shoulders as he eases you back against the table.
“We're not done yet, gorgeous.” He says, his voice comes out low, edged with hunger.
He takes his cock in his hand, sticky and wet with precum, and plays at your entrance, teasing you.
You can't quite catch your breath, your cheeks a bright pink, almost looking naturally sunkissed.
“Tell me you want it.” Leon breathes out, his eyes dark with lust.
You look up at him through droopy eyelids, hair a mess, a thin coat of sweat covering your body, and Leon swears he has never seen such an angelic scene.
“Please fuck me, Leon, I need you inside of me right now.” You didn't hesitate. That was all it took for Leon. He slowly pushed inside, your pussy warm and tight. You moan, out of breath, and your nails dug into the skin of his arms. “God, you're so fucking hard for me.”
Leon quickens his pace, the table beneath you rocking in time with him. His hands hold you firmly in place, his gaze locked on yours, unrelenting.
He’s immersed, savoring the sight of you like this– vulnerable, unraveling, completely his.
Every push deepening, feeling him whole, you whined and cried out his name over and over again. The curve of his cock hitting you just where it felt heavenly. He wouldn't stop, or slow down, he was drowned in burning need.
He's definitely going to leave marks on the skin of your waist, his fingers pressed firmly against you.
His hips in perfect sync, it didn't take much longer for Leon to lose it. His hand comes up to grip your jaw, holding you in place so you can’t look away. You search for his thumb, putting it in your mouth, sucking in.
Leon grunts and moans. “I'm not gonna hold on much longer, sweetheart.”
“Cum for me, baby, please, I want it all inside of me.” You beg, head dizzy, the thought of Leon filling you up exciting you.
“Oh– Fuck, when you look at me like that, and say those things…” He whispers out of breath, voice raspy.
He complies, his hand moving back to your sensitive spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that draw soft moans from your lips, and with nothing but the sound of his skin hitting against your ass, he comes undone, grunting, panting, and squeezing every inch of skin he can grab.
The feel of his cock pulsating inside you was enough to drive you to the edge, and Leon curses under his breath when he feels the walls of your pussy clenching hard around him.
You hum in contentment, unable to hide the smile on your face. You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows on the table.
Leon cups your cheek in his hand and brushes his thumb against you, slowly pulling out, your pussy dripping cum.
“Look at the mess we've–” Leon starts, but a sharp feeling emerging from his cock cuts him off mid-sentence. His gaze drops, only to find you on your knees, mouth already wrapped around him. You look up at him with innocent eyes, your tongue moving slowly, drawing a shaky breath from his lips as the sensation borders on overwhelming. He grabs a fistful of your already tousled hair, and smirks. “When did you even get down there?”
You shrugged. “You were too busy saying something about a mess…?”
He lets out a low, hoarse chuckle as he takes your hand in his, pulling you up from the floor before wrapping his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
You smiled, and hugged him, burying your face in his chest.
“I love you more, baby.”
“Shall we prepare the bath?” He suggests, a smirk playing on his lips– and you’d be damned if you didn’t know what that meant.
a/n: omgg?? let me know if you enjoyed this one!!! kudos to prozacprincess for making me get back on track with her request!! I'm actually so happy, it's been literal years since I last wrote anything, so, any advice is very, very welcome! also, do any of you have any app recommendations that include proof reading?? since english isn't my first language, sometimes I find myself staring at the screen for several minutes, trying to find or come up with the perfect set of words to explain properly what I'm trying to express, lmao.
words: 4.7k
warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. DUBCON. SEX POLLEN (both reader and leon infected). ANGST. HURT/COMFORT.
synopsis: coming across a strange plant in an old lab greenhouse has dire consequences... for the most part.
You’ve seen a lot of labs in your life, but this one is the strangest yet. Mostly because the usual horrors that come with bioterrorist organisations are nowhere to be found.
Deep underground, the air is stiff and sulfurous, both of your guns poised and ready — but nobody has come to stop you this time. No guards, no military. Not even zombies or creatures designed to destroy. It’s just you, Leon, and the steady, synchronised clicks of your boots on the metal walkway as you head towards what looks to be a greenhouse.
“You think they were expecting us and took off?” you question, gaze gliding over the slabs of muscle at his back. You’ve worked with Leon for a long time and have never seen him without those hunched shoulders and steely apprehension. He’s a weapon himself, honed from years of fighting in the shadows.
He stops, blue-grey eyes scanning over the fogged glass panes, where leaves curl towards you like beckoning fingers. There’s nothing out of the ordinary within, lights turned off like maybe the place was, in fact, abandoned. It’s a first: usually, you’d be knee-deep in bloodshed by now.
“Maybe they wanted to take their green fingers above ground,” he remarks dryly, though his posture doesn’t relax even a little. Like him, you don’t dare lower your guard, just in case.
You find a computer on the desk, screen black. “Power’s out here, too.”
Like everywhere else in the facility. It can’t be right. Bioweapon engineers don’t just disappear, not without leaving a trail of blood behind them.
Leon sighs and reiterates your findings to Sherry through his ear piece. Keen to be rid of this wasted adrenaline, you shove the door leading to the greenhouse open, standing on the arched, vine-peppered threshold to examine the plants within. Many of the leaves are wilted, colourless.
“Almost as dead as my houseplants,” you quip.
Leon wedges himself in front of you, a protective arm providing a barrier between you and the overgrown path. “Careful. We have no idea what these assholes were growing before they jumped ship.”
Ten years ago, when you first joined the DSO, you might have allowed such a show of protection. Now, you don’t need it, and shove past him with a sidelong glower. He might be your superior, but you don't need a knight in shining armour. “I’m not your rookie anymore, Kennedy.”
He grits his teeth. “And how you love to remind me.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” you snap. It isn’t that you dislike him, really. He’s just got an exhausting chip on his shoulder, and he walks around with a haughty sense of responsibility, like it’s his job to keep the entire world safe. You wish he’d go easier on himself — and stop treating you like you’re incompetent when he trained you himself to be an exceptional agent. Perhaps you’re sensitive, because you’ve faced gender bias your entire life. Misogynists who laugh at the idea of you working as a federal agent. Senior officers who would sooner put you on coffee duty than acknowledge your skills.
Maybe Leon isn’t like that, but sometimes, you aren’t so sure he trusts anybody to do the job other than himself, man or woman.
You only take a few more steps into the greenhouse before the change in the air gives you pause. A heady sweetness wraps around you here, and you think you’re going crazy when you see flecks of red floating like dust motes in the air, so tiny they might be missed by anyone not paying attention. You tip your chin, finding the source: a pink, lotus-like flower pulsing overhead, hanging by a vine that seems to have curled itself across every ceiling corner. It would be pretty if it wasn’t the only living thing in here, its petals swollen and puffy around a long stigma that seems to surveil your every move.
“The hell is that?” Leon’s question rumbles low in his throat.
“The last survivor?” It’s strange: the more you admire it, the stronger the urge to touch it becomes. You can’t from down here, but it doesn’t stop you from rising to your tiptoes—
The flower sighs out another gust of those strange spores, the pollen falling onto your skin with a sting, like a shower dialled too high.
“Shit,” Leon mutters. You turn to find his dirty blonde hair dusted with the same red flakes.
In an instant, he’s yanking you out of the greenhouse, bolting the door shut behind you. “Sherry, we might have a problem. A flower just… spat at us.”
You snort at the absurdity of it. You’ve seen bioweapons in all their forms, but never have they begun with a few pretty petals. Still, you shake the pollen from your hair, using your water to clean yourself off before allowing Leon to do the same while he hums in response to whatever Sherry is telling him.
“She has no reason to believe it’s dangerous,” is his final verdict. “Still, better safe than sorry. We’ll take a few samples, and Sherry’s finding a place for us to quarantine until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Great. I just hope you don’t have hay fever,” you taunt, peering through the glass to get a final look at the welcoming flower. Though you’re not in the least afraid, a steady thrum begins inside you, matching the glowing pulse of the flower’s pink light. As you walk away, a painful clench twists your stomach.
Probably just hunger, you convince yourself — but even your inner voice wavers when an itch claws through your skin minutes later.
By the time a stoic set of DSO agents have taken your samples and escorted you to a safe house for the night, you’re burning up. So is he, clammy and rosy-cheeked as he paces the lacklustre living room-slash-kitchen-slash-bedroom. You sit shakily on the couch, watching your fingers curl into your palms with an eerie sense of detachment. Your limbs don’t quite feel like your own, all sensations pushed aside to make room for the incessant fire in your belly. You feel like somebody has locked a furnace inside you, sweat beading in your hairline and sickness rearranging your organs.
“So, how long until we know if we’re gonna die?” you question weakly.
“We’re not going to die,” Leon asserts, scraping his hair back. It’s still damp from the shower, like yours, and even that feels like a coiled snake at the nape of your neck, leaving you shifting on the couch. “Viruses don’t tend to spread via pollination.”
“You don’t know that. There may be a whole swarm of zombie bees out there.”
You’re used to him huffing at you, used to sort-of-friendly taunts that sometimes hold a bite, but this exasperation billows through the room with disarming intensity. He’s pissed off.
He stops, rolling his neck as his eyes squeeze shut. In pain, too, just like you. You shift on the couch, unable to find a comfortable position, only for your breath to catch when your core rubs against the upholstery. That friction sends a bolt of something both pleasurable and agonising through you, right down to your toes.
“Fuck,” you hiss.
“What? What’s wrong?” His voice warps into something deeper and more honeyed than you’ve ever heard before, plucking through you like taut strings. You lean back on the couch just to feel the chafe against your cargoes again, biting your lip and curling your fingers into the cushions.
“Nothing,” you whisper distractedly. Really, you mean everything. Your heart is pounding, skin burning, and to top it all off, you can feel your panties soaking through with an arousal you can’t explain, made worse by every minute movement — both yours and his.
Even as he resumes pacing across the room, you feel him brushing your skin back and forth, back and forth, and your nipples stand to attention. You’ve always enjoyed looking at him and his chiseled features, but you’re professional enough to pretend he doesn’t affect you. Whatever was in that pollen has weakened your resolve, and it’s like watching reality peel itself open, leaving the world hazy but for him, the one thing still in focus. His cheekbones look sharper, nose straighter, lips plumper. His blue eyes pierce right through you, and fuck, fuck, the way his waist moves as he walks makes you want to touch yourself.
“Can you stop that?” you ask, because your hand is on your thigh, inches away from providing yourself with relief. There’s nowhere short of the bathroom you can go to fix this problem, and you know he’d listen with that razor-sharp concern. He’s already taken your temperature twice, though both your shirts are drenched with obvious fever. You’re past science, past examinations, symptoms written all over you.
Except that throb between your legs. That, you’re trying desperately to hide.
He ignores you, still pacing. When he gets closer, casting a breeze that teases your raw skin once more, you snap: “Leon! You’re not going to walk this one off!”
His jaw sets with a visible quiver. He retreats to the sink with a curse, peering out through the envelope-sized window. Your focus traces the slope of his spine, the broad width of his shoulders, the narrow cinch of his waist.
His ass, not as prominent as the rest of him, but thick enough you want to sink your teeth into it all the same.
“You need to sit down,” you demand, angling away from him so you won’t keep ogling. Your fingers are trembling, and you’re scared to stand up lest all that arousal has already dampened the couch. God, if he saw it, he’d never take you seriously again.
“No, I don’t.”
His posture sinks lower, head bowed, breaths heavy. You wonder if he feels it too, but then think that would be ridiculous. The fever is just making you horny, body likely trying to distract you with thoughts you’d been repressing for so long.
Only it hurts — to look at him, and to look away from him; to feel him inches away, and to have him all the way across the room.
You dig the back of your skull into the top cushions in a desperate attempt to chase the thoughts away. Your throat is dry, a sugary yet bitter taste on your tongue. The pain doesn’t stop, but with one less sense to worry about, you can let yourself drift into the fog encasing your body for just a while, sleep crawling towards you.
With it, dreams of him.
His name is a thick coating on your tongue when you wake. You don’t know how long it’s been, a shrill ringing in your ears and the light too bright for your stinging eyes.
And him, hovering over you, brows pinched with a worry you’ve never seen on him, not even when your lives were at stake.
A mangled whine forces itself out of your throat, all of you seeped in uncomfortable wetness. You don’t know where the sweat ends and your arousal begins. Your tongue sweeps over your teeth — and it hurts. Everything hurts.
A cup is tipped to your lips, but the cold glass isn’t what you want, and you shove it away as a shiver wracks through you. “How long… was I…?”
“Couple hours.” He refuses to surrender, forcing the water into your mouth. It slides down your throat, and all you can think is how much you wish it was his seed, like it had been in the dream. Thick and creamy and just this side of salty. He’d had his fingers fisted in your hair, eyes shut in ecstasy, and—
“Oh, god. Was I… Did I…?” Your hand is between your legs, you realise. You’d been touching yourself. In front of your superior.
“It’s okay.”
“No, no—”
“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he repeats, nudging you back when you try to rise off the couch. “I’m… I’m having the same symptoms. You’re okay, yeah?”
His throat bobs on a grimace, the only chink in his armour even now. He’s so much stronger than you. Maybe he had a right to that superiority complex after all.
“What… What do you mean?” It’s a silly question, you find when he steps away, because the evidence is written in the thick outline of his cock, nestled against the seam of his tactical pants.
“Sherry said…” He swallows again; this time, it looks painful. “Sherry said the pollen isn’t a virus, but it is…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, turning away from you. “Fuck. This is…”
“Spit it out, Kennedy."
“The substance is some kind of aphrodisiac.”
“Like… oysters?”
He snorts. “Not quite. It was designed to force breeding. They must have been using it on whatever lived in that lab before we got there.”
Your head spins, the words not making sense. Breeding is all that echoes, over and over again, more images from your dream coming back to you. Leon balls-deep inside you, pounding rough and hard until your stomach was bulging as he whispered praise in your ears. You, stretched and full and screaming.
Your hollow stomach clenches again, cushion bunching in your tense fingers. “When will it go away?” He rubs a hand over his jaw, and the sound of the bristle has you whimpering again. “Leon.”
He grits his teeth, pressing his palms into the wall. When it isn’t enough, he slams them again twice. Thrice.
You wish you were caged in by those rippling biceps and veiny forearms.
“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “I should have known better than to let you step foot in that greenhouse.”
“Just answer the question.”
His shoulders slump in defeat, the first proof that this might be unfixable. Unsurvivable. “It doesn’t go away. Not unless we make it.”
Make it. “You mean, together?”
He nods, glancing at you over his shoulder. His eyes are more silver than blue, lips twisted bitterly. “Sherry is looking into an antidote, but it could take weeks. We can’t survive that long, not with a fever like this. We’ll keep getting sicker.”
“We can’t just… do it ourselves?”
“I tried already. In the bathroom. Couldn’t.”
Fuck. Your eyes drag back to his cock, imagining his fist wrapped around it. Like the flower, like your insides, it seems to pulse to a silent rhythm.
“This is significantly worse than hay fever,” you decide.
“And your smart fucking mouth isn’t helping,” he retorts.
You should be disgusted by his tone, but it only uproots your desire in greedy hands. Your voice is low when you ask, “How many people at the DSO know about this?”
“Why the hell does that matter?”
“I didn’t work hard for ten damn years to lose all my credibility, all my dignity, because of some weird sex pollen that makes me want to fuck my boss!”
“Not exactly ideal for me either, sweetheart.” The word drips like caramel laced with arsenic, sweet and poisonous in equal measure.
“It’s not the same and you know it.” You throw yourself off the couch, finding your knees quick to buckle. Leon grabs your waist to keep you from falling, heavy palms scorching your skin like a branded poker. It takes everything in you not to fall into him, find the release you so desperately crave, and resisting it sends more agony through every corner of you. Muscles, organs, bones, blood. A million atoms exploding inside you. You can’t imagine enduring this another hour, let alone weeks.
His fingers tremble as they rise to your jaw, pupils blown like eclipsed twin moons. His breath holds the same sickly sourness as yours, tugging you in, making you moan, and your walls clench around nothing. You heave out a grunt of pain around all that emptiness, which isn’t empty at all, but all serrated edges and needling shadows.
“Nobody but Sherry knows what’s happening to us,” he admits. “Nobody will, okay? I’ll make sure of it.”
“This can’t be real.” You massage your sticky temples, pulling away from him. Without really knowing what you’re doing, you go to the sink, stick your head under the cold water as though it might douse your flames. It doesn’t, the trickle only reminding you of how blistered your skin feels. Your thighs clench, ass in the air.
At your back, Leon curses again. “You can’t… stand like that.”
“Fuck off.”
He says your name on something akin to a whimper, and you whip around to see his hand hovering just shy of his erection. Like you, he’s trying so hard not to give in.
But it doesn’t sound like there’s another option.
“What are we going to do?” you question.
He shakes his head. “I need another shower.”
“Leon—”
The door slams between you, and your eyes smart with sudden tears — of frustration, hopelessness, need. You spend the next five minutes trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt, but your clothes scrape your skin and your hair sticks to your neck and you are so, so empty.
And then his groans drift over the sound of the running water. From your new spot on a rug on the floor, you squirm, stomach swelling with something so tender it steals your breath. Every time you think the pain can’t get worse, it does, cresting to a new level until it’s all you can think about.
“Fuck,” Leon’s grunting. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Your hands tiptoe beneath the waistband of your trousers of their own volition, circling your clit as tears meld with your sweat into the carpet. You can hear the agony in every throaty sound he makes, and it hurts you just as much.
And then he starts saying your name. It’s barely audible, or would be if the world around you hadn’t risen to an unknowable crescendo in every possible way.
“Leon, please,” you whisper in response, going harder, faster — but your fingers slip with how wet you are, and you can’t satisfy the gaping hole inside you. A sob of despair pierces through the room, and it takes you a moment to realise it belongs to you.
Almost in unison, you hear his fist slam the shower door and know he feels it, too.
You want to go to him. Help him, end this torment for both of you. But even now, panic ricochets through you at the thought. If people found out, and they would, you’d forever be the agent who fucked her way to the top. You’d be an object to them. They wouldn’t see your hard work, just the fact you opened your legs for your superior.
You’re lying like that, hand limp between your thighs, minutes later, when Leon staggers out of the bathroom with water dripping over him. He’s made the effort to put his clothes back on, which means he’s still trying to resist, just like you. Only, the shaky breaths the two of you let out as he observes you on the carpet are frail, brittle.
“It hurts so bad,” you confess.
“I know.”
“What if it doesn’t stop?”
“I could ask Sherry to… I don’t know, get you something. A toy.”
A vehement snort falls from you, until you realise he isn’t joking. In fact, he’s looking at you with more care than should be allowed in a moment like this. Like he’d sit there, ignoring his own needs to tend to yours.
Your resolve wavers. You want him. Enough not to care what people would say. Enough that no toy would be enough.
“Why haven’t you tried to fuck me yet?”
“Don’t,” he warns.
“Just answer me. Why?”
“Because you deserve a hell of a lot better than that. Because you’ve made it clear you don’t want it, and I will never, ever force you, even if it fucking kills us both. Because you’re my responsibility, and I will find a way to take care of this that doesn’t involve hurting you even more than you already are.”
You drag your glassy eyes to the ceiling. “None of those reasons included the fact that you don’t want to.”
Nothing, just the shuffle of his boots as he returns to the sink.
“Leon.”
He tugs at his hair. You understand now why he wanted you to change position before, his own ass punctuated by his stance. From below, you can appreciate his thighs, his calves, a man built from a strength nobody should ever need to survive in this world — but he did, and fuck, you found that sexy long before this affliction took hold.
“Do you want to?” you prod.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I wanted to,” you blurt. “Before. I mean, I would never have acted on it…”
“You’re delirious.”
“Fuck you, Kennedy. I’m being honest,” you snap.
His gulp is audible. Slowly, he turns, taking unsteady steps towards you. Even the rustle of the carpet against the rubber soles of his boots has you biting the inside of your cheek until you taste blood.
He kneels beside you, swipes the matted hair from your eyes. You shudder, his touch leaving embers in its wake. More tears, dampening your cheeks, running into the carpet.
“Of course I wanted to,” he says. “Even if you are a stubborn-as-hell pain in my ass.”
Your scoff is mirthless, hips bucking as your core clenches again. “Then do it. Please. I want you to make this go away.”
“I can’t. Not like this.”
“Please.” Your voice quivers and cracks. “Please, just fuck me. We both want it. Need it. I need it.” You place his hand on your breast, rippling with every laborious breath. Your nipples harden, pleading with his uncertain fingers. “Leon—”
He squeezes, causing a shrill gasp as your back arches. It’s like a lightning bolt, and it sears away the pain for just a moment.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fucking sure. Get inside me. Now. Please.”
A growl rolls from him, and then he’s pulling down his pants and yours, so desperate to obey that they’re left at the hinges of your knees, restricting your movements, but not enough for either of you to care. All you can focus on is how badly your pussy weeps for him, how much you need to be full.
You claw through his hair, down his back, anywhere you can reach as he spreads your folds and stretches you out with his fingers. He didn’t need to. You’re ready. Have been for hours.
“You’re drenched,” he croons, breathless and nudging his cock against your thigh. It’s hot and satiny, already leaking with the same frenzied arousal. Still he finds time to gather your slick, watching it drip down to his knuckles with devastating fascination before sucking it away with puckered lips and fluttering lids.
“Now,” you beg. You can’t be teased, can’t even be touched, not until his cock is inside you.
“You’re so ready for me. So warm and wet and gorgeous,” he’s saying as he lines himself up. “She's so pretty. I couldn’t stop imagining how pretty she’d look, crying for me like this.”
You dig your fingernails into his back, urging him down, and then the world stills as finally your walls have something to mould themselves around. He’s slow, watching your expression even as his own strains with equal parts relief and pain. “Tell me if I hurt you. You have to tell me—”
“You won’t. You can’t.” The only thing that hurts is being empty, and you’re not now. When another sob racks you, it sends your hips jolting, and his breath catches.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you now. Gonna make it go away.”
You bury your face into his neck as he inches deeper, the two of you a tangled, slippery mess of rasps and desperation.
“Worried I’m gonna come too soon,” he admits.
“You won't. Play with my clit and I'll get there,” you beg.
He does, and your toes curl in long-awaited ecstasy. He inhales your moans like they’re oxygen in a suffocating space, sliding back to plunge into you again. He goes deeper this time, grip burrowing into your ass cheeks until you’re certain you’ll have bruises for weeks. Good. With your hazy fever, you’re afraid you might forget otherwise, and all the pain was worth it for the bliss you feel now. You’re made of liquid flames, less human and more animal, baring your teeth in silent command for more, more, more.
Leon tilts your hips as he increases his pace, one arm wedged between you so he can maintain his rhythm on your clit. Goosebumps rise on your skin, your legs wrapping tightly around him until you’re moving as one languid, primal creature, all claws and teeth as your pussy devours his cock.
“This good? Think you can come like this?” he’s asking.
You’re too fucked out to reply, mouth agape, eyes closed, intoxicated by the smell of sweat and slick and hormones enveloping the two of you.
“Baby, need you to talk to me. Tell me you’re okay.”
“'M okay. So good,” you whisper. “Don’t stop. Go harder.”
He pistons into you then, bottoming out with every thrust until he’s passing over your G-spot and splitting you all the way open. You grab anything you can find with sharp nails and sharper teeth: hair, flesh, lips. It’s the first time in hours that agony has lightened to a gentle gnawing and you never want this to stop. You’re dripping all over the carpet, his balls slapping against you and pussy walls squelching, and his fingers are slipping through your folds with so much glorious ease, so much care, even now.
“I need to be on top,” you say, and he lets you roll him onto his back so you can writhe all over his cock, hitting corners he couldn‘t reach before.
Leon lifts your straddled hips before slamming them back down, over and over, and you’re scared you won’t be able to hold yourself upright for much longer.
“You’re so perfect. Want to live in this warm cunt for the rest of my life.”
“Want you to fill me up,” you reply. “Come inside me. Want to feel you come inside me.”
“So close, sweetheart.” You can tell it’s true, vein throbbing in his flushed neck and features growing taut. He purses his lips, lets out another primitive growl as he uses his free hand to squeeze your tits. “What were you dreaming about before, hm?”
“You. I was — fuck." You almost fall off, and he’s there, righting you, supporting you, keeping you steady. “Your cock was in my mouth. Fingers in my hair. Tasted so good.”
“I was imagining this,” he admits. “Watching my stubborn little sweetheart fuck my cock until she can barely stay upright.” A grunt, and then his cock is swelling, spilling, your walls clenching around him as he chases every spark. His seed pools between you with your own arousal, coating your folds so that every chafe over his pelvis has you quivering. And there, with his fingers going harder on your clit, you find your own release swathes you like spring sunlight, a glowing, breathing thing wrapping you in its arms.
“That’s right. Fuck it out,” he’s muttering, almost incoherent as he aids your every rut.
It seems to last forever, this hot, heavenly electricity, you convulsing with frenzied abandon, him watching until, minutes later, you slump against his chest with him still locked between your legs.
There’s nothing to say for a long time. You wait, tentatively, for the symptoms, the agony, to return, but it doesn’t. There’s just him and his heartbeat and a new exhaustion that leaves you boneless.
“You okay?” Leon rasps finally.
You can only hum, breath riffling through the hairs on his chest.
He twists his fingers through your hair, leaving your scalp tingling. “Doesn’t hurt anymore?”
“No. You?”
“No.” A kiss is placed on your head, so tender it knocks the breath from you. “We should clean up, sweetheart. We made a hell of a mess.”
“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t go.” You’re scared that when he slides out of you, the pain will come back.
So he doesn’t, wrapping his arms around you and listening to your breaths even out. “Not going anywhere," is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep.
imagine leon having you on his lap with your legs spread wide against his. youre bucking your hips, trying to grind on his palm as he inserts his middle and ring finger inside your tight, wet cunt. he pushes it and pulls back, the palm of his hand hitting your clit causing you to jolt from now and then.
youre moaning and writhing in his arms, you have one hand on his arm that is around your shoulder. he's keeping you tight and locked against his chest as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.
"taking my fingers like a good little slut".
"youre a good girl, arent you?".
"my very good girl who just cant help herself but to grind her messy pussy in my hand".
you cried out when he moved his fingers faster in you, the wet sounds and your heavy breathing filling the living room. you claw and grip at his arm as your hips frantically move against his hand causing him to chuckle against your ear.
"fucking desperate, arent you?". leon said as his thumb moved on your clit to rub it in circles. your toes curled as your back arched on his chest while you groaned with your eyes clenched shut. "keep clenching that pussy tight, sweetheart. gonna get you ready for my cock".
you cursed loudly when he suddenly pulled out his fingers and landed a loud smack on your wet pussy. you brokenly moan out his name with a quiver on your lips and leon swears that its the hottest thing ever. he kissed your head before hitting your pussy again causing you to buck up on his hand.
"look how wet you are, all this for me?". leon smirked when he lifted his hand that was smacking your pussy. liquid strings across his fingers and you blush at how he plays with it. "open up for me, baby".
your mouth opened and he brought his fingers inside your mouth causing you to moan loudly. your taste was filling your mouth that you couldnt help but moan while he's letting you suck on his fingers that are coated with your love juices.
"my good girl". leon groaned when he felt you swirl your tongue on his fingers, just like what you do on his cock. he slowly then pulled his fingers away, saliva connecting onto it and he's spreading it in your lips while you pant.
the arm on your shoulder then moved to wrap his hand on your neck causing you to let out a shuddering breath, mouth opening and closing as you try to catch your breath. he gave it a soft squeeze while his other hand pats your mound.
"ready for my cock, baby?". leon runs his nose on your neck to your cheeks while you nodded your repeatedly and one of your hand went to his wrist that is still petting your mound gently.
"then, lets go to the bedroom and let me ravage you tonight".
love juices 😞💓 i think its cute tbh ahahhahha also man what the hell, i couldve wrote it longer but im pretty sure i was starting to feel some tingles lol
Also leave it to Leon to get me out of a smut writing slump.
At first, Leon was skeptical of sex tapes. Yes, they were hot sometimes but it would have been weird if he, a famed DSO agent, made one with his controversially young girlfriend, wouldn’t it?
But then, you proposed making one for each other when he goes on missions; one for you to watch when you missed him and one for him for the same. Leon hesitated at first but then you pouted so cutely.
You knew how to get him to agree. And damn were you too good at it.
The first video filmed was for him. He chose to hold his phone above your naked body, angled perfectly at your bouncing tits as he fucked you. At the top of the screen, he could see the way your brows knit in a silent plea, as if egging him on for more to go harder.
His free hand groped one of your tits, making sure the soft squish was in frame as he slowed his thrusts.
“So pretty, baby,” he cooed, blue eyes still trained on the phone screen. “Can’t believe I get to fuck this pretty thing.”
“Baby, please go faster,” you whined and tried to cage Leon’s hips with your legs. His hand moved from your chest up to your mouth, his thumb brushing your lip down enough to slip past. Your tongue peeked out to meet it.
“Why? So the video’s shorter?” he retorted with scoff. “I’ve got space to go all night.”
Your video came a few nights later.
You held your phone in shaking hands, resting it on your ribcage as it focused on the way Leon’s cock glistened as he slowly pulled out. He took himself in a rough hand and tapped the sticky head on your clit.
“Swear you’ve never been wetter, sweetheart,” he chuckled. You watched as his heavy cock left a string of arousal, connecting yourself to him even without skin contact.
He easily slid back into your awaiting cunt, pumping as if he’d never left in the first. Leon grabbed your thighs and spread them a little wider. “Fuck, are you getting that?”
You glanced to the phone screen again to see the noticeable bulge forming in your lower stomach each time he filled you, the sheer length of him on show even when he’s balls deep.
The first time Leon watches the videos back (because obviously he asked you to send yours too), he realized just how stupid he’d been. Sex tapes with you were the hottest thing in the fucking world.
Found out my meds worsen my brain fog which explains why i feel like shit half the week & can’t write—
Thinking about cockwarming older Leon Kennedy by mouth.
His cock is just thick enough to fill you but not make your jaw hurt and somehow tastes even better than it looks (which was already quite mouthwatering). He’s long enough for the tip to reach the back of your throat when your lips reach the hilt and your nose brushes against the wispy salt and pepper hairs of his pubic bone. Your tongue loved to travel along the blue veins swirling around the shaft.
Although you would have to leave his delicious cock to do so, Leon also likes when you kiss or mouth at his balls. It’s even better when you replace your mouth with your hand on his length while you do so.
Leon, of course, busies his own hand in your hair but he never applies too much pressure, no matter how far gone in pleasure he is. He never wants to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. Even if it feels exceptional to him, you would always be the one in control. Just use him however you want.
Content: smut, p in v, fingering, squirting, alcohol consumption, hookup culture lol
Masterlist❤︎
-
There is nothing better than being fucked completely senseless.
Arguably the best remedy for a chronically overactive mind.
After five straight days of managing passive-aggressive emails and smiling through situations that tested the absolute limits of human sanity, you decided the only cure for this impending mental breakdown was a stiff drink and zero inhibitions on this lovely weekend.
Two shots of whatever was closest, and the company of a man who looked just as desperately in need of a distraction as you, if not more so.
Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.
He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.
He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).
The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.
You offered your name, he offered his (Leon—was it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.
You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.
Hook, line, sinker.
Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.
Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. He’s handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.
What does surprise you is how you’ve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.
Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.
Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that you’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s wrung you out on these expensive sheets.
Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.
Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. You’re sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.
He does it again and again and again until you’re basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.
This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.
There’s a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. He’s actually entertained.
You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."
The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. “You’re shaking so much. It’s cute.”
So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.
“You okay?”
You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. “Have you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?”
He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.
"Are you ever going to?"
His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. “Why, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."
“I’m having a great time.”
“Then what’s with the rush?”
“Maybe we should take a break,” you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. “I-I need to pee.”
He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. “Is that right?”
“Fuck—Leon—” You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. “You’re not helping.”
“I actually am,” he argues.
“What—”
“Let's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?”
You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what he’s asking.
“I’m pretty sure I need to pee,” you reason quietly. “I’m not a squirter.”
He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve never done that before?”
“I have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.”
He looks genuinely offended by your answer. “Do you want to try?”
Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. He’s simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.
Even with the fragments of scars you’ve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.
And you’re very much aware you’re one of the few he’s taken to bed.
But is he always this attentive? This generous?
Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?
You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. He’s just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.
If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?
“You really think I’m about to squirt?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
You frown. “What if it’s just pee?”
He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. “Make a mess then, I don’t mind.”
Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.
“Then make me squirt, Leon.”
He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.
Not enough, apparently, because he’s already moving his hips in rapid rhythms—not too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.
“Fucking beautiful,” he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. “Just lying there looking all pretty."
“H-harder,” you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.
“Yeah?” He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. “You like it when I go hard on you?”
Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when he’s practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.
“I know, baby, I know,” he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Ngh—h—”
“That’s it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.”
The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattles—and you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. “Leon—”
He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.
“Don't fight it.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Your groan is feral. “I can’t—”
“Come on, baby, you’ve got to trust me,” he croons softly. “Do you trust me?”
Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. “Yes.”
“Good. Then let it happen.”
Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.
“Breathe through your nose.”
He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh, fuck—”
“That’s it.” He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. “Let it go.”
You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.
It’s like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame—only for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.
Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.
You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself getting drenched, but you’ve never experienced anything as wild as this.
Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.
He pushes his palm against your clit.
“Oh fuck! fuckfuckfuck—”
A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie there—crying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.
“Should’ve met you sooner,” he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.
Maybe it’s the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.
“Can we meet again?” You pant. “Like—after tonight?”
You’re somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.
To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.
You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.
Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight—and all the days that follow.
Leon Kennedy loves eating you out. Any chance you’d allow, he made it a mission to push you onto the nearest surface — most of the time being the couch or the dining room table — and bending your legs as close to your head as they could go before tearing off your panties.
The stubble climbing his cheeks is scratchy as Leon paints your inner thighs with loving kisses, trailing his lips to your folds. Baby blue eyes glue themselves to your face as his nose nuzzles your clit. His tongue lolls out and licks a stripe up your slit. His eyes close with a hum, suckling your pussy with audible smacks before his tongue worms its way inside. Of course, Leon’s tongue is nowhere near as big or girthy as his cock, but even he knows it stretches your walls and fills you almost as well.
Unlike his dick, his tongue is dexterous and scavenges with a fervor. His mouth encloses your cunt, his top teeth lightly brushing your clit as the tip of his tongue finds your g-spot.
Big, rough hands hold your thighs apart and squish into the soft flesh. His tongue leaves your hole to focus on your clit instead.
Don’t worry though, he’d never leave you empty for long.
Hellloooooo!! i just saw your post about leon taking every chance to go down on his partner, and, quite frankly, i loved it 😍 BUT NOW I HAVE AN IDEA!
What if one time, when Leon goes to go down on his partner, they stop him and are like ‘Leon, I’ve got a bush. It’s a little gross right now’ or something similar? I just wanna see how Leon would react to his partner trying to stop him from his dessert💀
ANYWAYS- Have a great timezone!
MDNI
I do not think i did this prompt justice but hhhhleon
It came as a hesitant tug to his hair. At first, it was just light enough that Leon thought it was normal, that you simply needed to hold on to something. The kisses creeping towards your panties ceased when you suddenly tugged harder.
Leon sighed through his nose as it rested on your stomach before looking up, a silent question of why.
“I didn’t shave,” you spoke softly, your hand unfurling from his hair. He could tell by the way you tried to back away and bury yourself into the mattress that you were embarrassed.
Leon only stared back. All that over a bush? His eyebrow raised. “So?”
“So?” you parroted, gawking down at the man still positioned between your legs.
A hand trailed along the side of your thigh. “You act like that’ll stop me.”
“Leon, it’s gross.”
“No, it’s natural, baby.” His free hand came up to rest on your hip, fingertips tracing the seam of your panties as if it could help comfort you. “You never have to shave for me. I mean, you’ve seen the hell I’ve been through and trust me, eating my gorgeous partner out doesn’t even come close to that just because of a little hair. Quite the opposite.” Baby blue eyes met yours. “Clear?”
He waited for you to nod and utter a “‘kay” before his fingers hooked into your waistband and slowly dragged your underwear down. After dropping them to the floor, Leon placed a soft kiss to the thatch of hair you tried to hide from him.
“You’re beautiful, sweetheart.” His voice was gruff as he spoke. He spread your legs farther apart. “Now, can I enjoy my meal?”
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple job- find Grace, take out Victor. But even DSO agent Leon Kennedy makes mistakes.
Wordcount: 3.8k
Warnings/tags: Porn with little plot, shameless smut, whiny!Leon, sex pollen fic, aphrodisiac, p in v sex, no foreplay, begging, Reader is chubby, breeding kink, overstimulation, creampies (a LOT of them), excessive cum, breeding, unsafe sex, multiple orgasms, age gap, english is not my first language, not proof read
♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎
While you associated hospitals with the smell of sterile antiseptic, the air in the rhodes hill chronic care center was thick with blood and decay instead.
The T-virus broke loose in the facility shortly after you and your work partner Leon arrived.
After successfully taking down the first wave in the rehabilitation center, you proposed to split up. The sanatorium was huge, and you two could cover more ground that way. And if one of you found either Dr. Gideon or Grace, you could quickly alert the other through your speaker comms.
"How's it going for you, old man? Found anything interesting yet?" your words cackled through his earpiece and Leon had to stifle a sigh of relief every time he heard your voice, even when it was just to mess with him. He wasn't particulary fond of the idea of letting you wander these halls alone. He knew you were capable, but you never willingly split up on any mission until now. He was just...a little worried. That's all.
You could tell Leon was smirking at the other end of the hospital "No, ma'am. Just took down three infected staff members and got some old reports here" he answered back, and you could hear the flipping of pages "...ain't readin' all that" he muttered quietly to himself, to which you giggled.
"Same for me, but it's pretty chill down here. Haven't come across an infected patient in quite a bit" you said, holding your gun as you rounded a corner cautiously, only to find the hallway to be empty.
Leon on the other hand sneaked into a laboratory. The lights flickered on as he entered, gun cocked, ears strained to hear faint gurgling- but the room was clear. Some drawers seemed to have been raided and emptied, blood smeared on the ground and equipment scattered everywhere. Books, notes and reports laid open, though Leon didn't bother to read any of them. Maybe Grace had been here before him, frantically searching the lockers for a weapon or key to get out of here.
Leon reached for the comm around his neck "I think Grace might have been here" he informed you, sending you his location. "Could she be nearby?" you shot back quickly, crouching in front of a door, picking it's lock with a hair pin. "Don't know, maybe she's-' Leon started, but before he could finish his sentence, you heard a gutteral roar on the other side, followed by glass breaking and gunshots.
You pressed your earpiece harder into your ear to make sure you just heard that right "Leon? Leon- are you okay?" you shouted in worry, your heart hammering against your chest as static answered you.
After a few seconds of silence, which felt like hours, Leon finally spoke again. "I'm fine...just- fuck...it's too hot, can't think" he panted, his voice strained and stripped of it's usual composure. He braced himself against a table, his nails scraping the surface as he tried not to inhale any more vapor than he already had. Was he dying? His body was buzzing with heat that felt like it was burning him from the inside out, his breath hitching in a way that sounded less like pain and more like agonizing, desperate hunger. He couldn't even properly register your voice over the blood rushing in his ears- and elsewhere.
"Leon! Leon, can you hear me? Talk to me! What happened!?" you yelled through the speaker comm, the locked door completely abandoned as you checked your watch for the coordinates he sent you.
Sweat beaded at his brow, the collar of his shirt feeling impossibly tight and suffocating, but he pushed himself to answer you. "Some...shit, some bastard tried to sneak up on me." he pressed out, swallowing thickly, making you stop in your tracks to listen to him. "I uh...I took him down and he smashed into these glass vials. Spilled this liquid everywhere and I...fuck...I inhaled it" he tried to explain through the cloudy haze in his mind.
"Stay where you are" you commanded as you turned to sprint down the corridor and up the stairs. Leon shook his head, even though you couldn't see it "Don't... don't come here" he groaned, the words pressing out of his throat in a low, needy whine that sent a sudden shiver down your spine. "You bet your sweet ass that I'm already on my way, Kennedy" you growled in anger at his dismissive nature regarding his own health- and Leon knew you were pissed when you called him just by his last name.
By the time you burst through the heavy double doors of the laboratory, Leon was already a needy mess.He had shed his tactical gear from the heat, the zipper on his compression shirt pulled down all the way to reveal his sweaty chest and his dirty blonde hair falling over his eyes that were glazed over with a raw, primal lust. He was slumped against a workstation, his chest heaving and barely standing upright.
"Fuck, Leon!" You rushed to his side, your hands hovering over him in worry. As your palm made contact with his forehead, he groaned as if in pain "Shit- you're burning up!" you panicked, not knowing what to do- or how long he had left.
Was he dying? Was he going to mutate? You had to act quickly somehow. "Okay... alright, breathe, I'm going to fix this, okay?" You rambled, more to yourself than to him.
"They gotta have some records of this lying around here, they love writing this shit down" you mumbled sharply as you scanned the room for any kind of notes or reports. You completely turned the room upside down, dismissing some unimportant scribbles and copies that didn't help your problem at all.
Then you found a text with an attached sketch- it matched the vial smashed on the floor with dark pink liquid staining the tiles, faint smoke curling upwards. You skimmed the text quickly, the paper crumbling under your shaking hands.
Having the liquid directly injected into the body seemed to be causing rapid burns, mutation of the skin and involuntary seizures of muscles, turning the brain to mush over time, until the patient returned to their basic instincts. Inhaling it on the other hand made the substance act as a potent synthetic aphrodisiac, which stripped away a subjects inhibitions and reduced them to their most basic, primal reproductive needs. The further the notes went, the more explicit they got- the arousal was described to be excruciating and relentless, a physical torture that would only fade once the patient achieved a full sexual release.
You looked back at Leon, your eyes falling down to his groin, where you caught sight of a very prominent bulge in his pants. His cock was as hard as a rock, painfully so, and he was visibly leaking, his pre-cum spreading through the fabric as a dark stain.
You let out a disbelieving bark, brushing a hand through your hair. What were you even supposed to do now?
You turned back to him. Leon was biting his hand as the unbareable pressure in his groin started to hurt badly "Leon, look at me" you whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He peeled his head away to look at you, drool slipping from his lips. He looked so wrecked, so desperate, it crushed you as much as it turned you on.
"It's an aphrodisiac. You're not dying, but this isn't going to go away either. Not until...not until you had sex-" you started but he cut you off, shaking his head in clear refusal at your proposal. "No, not like this. I ain't taking advantage of you" he rasped, a wounded sound escaping his throat as he tried to turn away from you, trying to fight the hunger inside that threatened to starve him. He wouldn't do this, wouldn't pressure you into thinking you were just helping- doing the right thing, that it was your job to get him out of the misery he put himself in.
You were partners, after all. That's what good partners did, right? These lines already began to blur a while ago, and Leon didn't know if he could go back if you completely crossed them now.
"Leon, you're not taking advantage of anyone! You're in pain, you need help-!" you tried to reason, but he shoved you aside. "Grace is being experimented on by Victor right this second, if she isn't dead already, and I have nothing better to do than to pop a boner like some virgin teenage boy!" he shouted at you, his anger overpowering the lust in his body for just a moment. "We have a job to do, and I will finish it" he growled determinded, his chest heaving as he squeezed his eyes shut when the heat came back double.
You frowned in worry, as if his words hadn't done much to make you change your mind. You stepped closer to him despite everything, and your scent- warm, sweet, fertile- hit him like a physical blow. His nose crinkled, as if he could will himself to resist. "Leon..." you muttered, your hand squeezing his shoulder gently. God, your voice, what an alluring melody that forced open his eyes to take you in. Your plush and curvy figure, the softness of your hips and the fullness of your breasts and stomach seemed to act like gasoline being poured into fire.
Leons resolve snapped the moment your hand slid from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and he collapsed to his knees, his forehead resting against your stomach with a desperate, sobbing plea.
"Please" he whimpered, his voice breaking. Leon sounded like a man who had been starving for a lifetime, and maybe he had. "God, please...I can't take it. It hurts so fucking much. You smell so good... you're so perfect. I just want to be inside you. I need to fill you up."
The sight of the Leon S. Kennedy, the grumpy and closed off DSO agent, reduced to a whiny, needy mess at your feet was an aphrodisiac of its own, not that you hadn't found him insanely attractive before. How could you not find him handsome? You just assumed that a man like him would never go for a woman like you, they usually prefered the bone-skinny model type, but it seemed like Leon greatly appreciated your soft body.
You reached down after taking a second to process all of this, cupping his face and tilting his head back to watch sheer desperation cloud his blue eyes. He looked so hungry, so utterly wrecked by desire, that you couldn't resist. Before you had fully dropped to your knees as well, your lips crashed together in a messy kiss, tongues darting out to tangle with the other. Leon groaned at the contact as if you had just granted him salvation.
You didn't have much time, so you only shed your pants and underwear in a frenzy. Even if you hadn't been in a hurry, Leon wouldn't have been able to take his sweet time with you. He wanted to, fuck of course he wanted to learn every texture and curve you had, and he promised to do it another time. Right now, all he needed was relief, and he was sure to find it in your beautiful fat pussy.
His cock sprang free as you practically ripped his boxers away, angry and pulsing, a deep crimson red at the tip that spoke of the pressure building behind it. It was leaking heavily, his shaft glistening as if it had been lubed up. Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sight, the stiffness of his dick curving towards his navel was just begging to be touched. Leon let out a pathetic, high pitched moan as you did, wrapping your fingers around him, his hips jerking upward instinctively as your thumb circled the spot under his head. "Fuck, yes...right there" he gasped, his voice a ragged whisper.
You could have sat there for all of enternity just feeling the weight of him in your palm while jerking him off, but Leon was needy. So needy. "Please, baby, I need it. Need your pussy. I wanna breed you...want to pump so much cum inside you that it sticks." He started to babble almost incoherently.
Leon couldn't believe what he was saying, but there wasn't even a trace of dignity left in him to care at all.
You nodded quickly and wrapped your arms around his neck. Leon hauled you up as if you weighed nothing and softly slid you onto a cold examination table, despite his desperation. You instantly spread your legs wide to invite him, swirling your fingers that were slick with his precum around your hole to lube you a bit more, as you new Leon would be anything but gentle in his state.
He bit your neck as if to mark and hold you in place as he pressed himself between your plush thighs. You knew he wouldn't enter you slowly or give you time to adjust- still, the pressure took your breath away as he buried himself with one desperate thrust all the way inside, stretching your pussy to her limits.
Leon let out a loud, guttural cry, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as the friction finally hit his overstimulated nerves. He began to pump into you with a frantic rhythm, his movements lacking any sort of control. He was only fucking you with the raw and animalistic need brewing inside him.
He was so whiny and vocal, pathetically sobbing into your shoulder, telling you how much he missed this, how long it had been since he felt something this warm and tight around him. It made your pussy gush around him, easing the slick slide even more.
You weren't any better though. You clung to him helplessly, mewling while he hammered into your cunt, your hands slipping beneath his collar to scratch open his back.
"You're so...warm 'n soft. Feels so fucking good" he groaned, his voice thick with arousal as he hammered his hips into your pussy over and over again, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoing through the sterile room. "Gonna fill you up so much...give you everythin' i've got. You're going to take it all for me, right? You're going to let me breed this pretty pussy right here, yeah?" he asked you frantically, begging you to say that he was allowed, that he could cum in you as many times as his heart desired.
You didn't know just what your desperate nodding would do to him once you wrapped your legs around his waist.
"Oh god, Leon!" you shrieked as he climbed higher up your body as best as he could while still having both feet on the ground- the new angle making it easier for him to let his hips just fall into your pussy, hitting your cervix with every sloppy thrust.
He was trembling at the constant, obscene plap plap plap echoing from your joining, your arousal dripping around him. You felt him swell in you, throbbing violently against your gummy walls. You mewled as your own orgasm approached. "L-Leon, oh fuck! I'm gonna cum" you whined, biting your lip as his frantic pace threw you over. You wailed into his neck, your toes curling and your cunt fluttering around his shaft. Leon yelled and came with a full body shudder as he flooded your insides. You felt the relentless pressure of him filling you up.
You thought this was it, that you had overcome this weird drug, but for Leon- there was no relief. Instead of softening, his cock remained rock hard, the heat continuing to surge through him in waves as if it had only gotten worse.
You caught a break for just a moment before he suddenly started to move again. "Shit- Leon!" you whined, your hands digging into his shoulders as he drove back into your overstimulated pussy. He didn't stop, he just couldn't. He kept fucking you, his pace even harsher than before "I-I can't stop...I can't stop...I'm sorry, baby" he whimpered, his voice sounding small and needy even as he fucked himself into you despite your protests. "I need more. I need to give you more."
As the minutes stretched into an hour, you lost track of how many orgasms you had, much less how many times Leon came in you.
At first the overstimulation had been pleasurable, but now the constant stimulation of his cock dragging in and out of you began to border on actual pain. Your pussy was so sore, as were your nipples since Leon had pulled up your shirt to nurse and suck on them to busy his mouth.
You whimpered, your body shaking weakly from the intensity of your repeated orgasms. You couldn't feel your legs, Leon had to scoop them up over his shoulders to prevent them from falling off the sides of the table, your arms laying limb by your side. "Leon..." you whimpered helplessly, your voice barely above a whisper.
He paused for a second, his face etched with a mixture of guilt and uncontrollable lust as he looked down at your miserable self, cooing soft apologies against the raw bitten skin of your tits."I know, I know...I'm sorry, sweetheart... I'm so sorry" he whispered back, soothing the ache of his bitemarks on your breasts with kisses "but I have to...I just have to keep going. Please, just a little more."
You nodded gently, your body tired, the amount of cum he pumped into you already beginning to leak from your hole and dripping down the table to pool between Leons feet on the floor. He kept going reardless and came again and again, each orgasm producing more cum than the last. It was so much, too much, it felt like he had carved his way into your cervix to fill up your womb directly. You felt so full, your pussy could barely hold it all. It squelched out of your used hole every time he bottomed out.
Despite the pain and rawness you felt in your cunt and clit, another orgasm was approaching you. The building of your climax overshadowed the burning stretch in your stomach, though it was no less uncomfortable. "Leon, please, I- I can't" you hiccupped, your arms too heavy to try and shove him off of you. You weren't even sure if he had heard your small, hoarse voice over his loud panting.
He couldn't form proper words anymore, so he leaned down to kiss you and soothe your cries as his pace picked up again, his cock slipping easily in and out of your pussy with sloppy thrusts, though it felt like he was ripping you apart. His hands roamed your body with surprising softness, as if to apologize and thank you for providing him relief, to show you just how much he appreciated you. It made your burning orgasm just a bit more bearable, a choked cry leaving your lips as you gushed around his cock for what felt like the 100th time.
Leon then let out one final, long, shaking cry, his entire body convulsing as he delivered a massive, last load deep inside you, his cock pulsing rhythmically as he emptied himself completely against your cervix. You whined helplessly, feeling like your abdomen was going to burst if he kept going.
Luckily, Leon seemed to finally be completely spent, his movements reduced to a slight rocking motion before coming to a halt when his muscles began to give out.
He collapsed on top of you, his sweaty chest heaving, his face buried in your neck. He was dead weight, and so were you, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. "You done?" you panted quietly, your head swimming. You felt him nod against you, responding with an affirmative groan.
You laid there for a long time, the only sound in the laboratory being the synchronized thumping of your two exhausted hearts. You gently brushed your fingers through his damp hair, kissing the back of his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat and soothing the lingering, shaky cries that escaped him as the drug finally began to leave his system after overloading his senses in every possible way.
"Leon, could you...pull out?" you winced softly as the haze in his mind faded and he instantly shifted to do so. You both grimaced as his cum leaked out of you in thick, white rivers, splashing onto the tiled floor. The desperation in his eyes was replaced by a sudden wave of embarrassment. Your pussy was gaping, swollen and red, and you sniffled as you tried to sit up.
Leon was instantly at your side, helping you sit properly, only now realising the damage he had caused. Your legs were shaking even when sitting, and your breasts were covered in bite marks, beard burns, bruises and spit. "Shit, I'm- I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking, I-" he started to ramble, trying to find something he could clean you up with.
You watched him pace from your seat on the table, softly smiling through the exhaustion, pulling your shirt and bra down again to cover your body.
He was so careful when cleaning and dressing you, it almost made you cry. Your body was aching everywhere, and even if you had known before- you would still have helped him. "It's okay Leon, really. I'm just glad you're feeling better" you said, your voice clearer after sipping water from the flask secured to your pants.
"I hurt you" he muttered as he zipped up his shirt again and tightened the straps of his gear. "Leon..." you started but he cut you off "No, I...you asked me to stop and I...I didn't" he growled in anger at himself. You slipped from the table to walk over to him, but your shaky knees buckled and he caught you against his chest "This wasn't you, you weren't in your right mind. And I wanted to help you, you know that" you said, trying to get it into his stubborn head. You knew he felt bad, impossibly so, but he didn't have to beat himself up over something that was out of his control, allthough old habits die hard.
"It's my fault you can't walk properly" he mumbled then as you took his face between your palms, suddenly being more interested in your lips. You giggled at that "Wouldn’t have expected anything else from Mr. Kennedy" you purred and he rolled his eyes, though you got a little proud smirk out of him.
"Come on, old man. We still have a job to do. We can continue this in my bedroom when all of this is finally over" you winked and went to kiss the corner of his mouth. Leon huffed, but straightened back up with your arm slung around his shoulders.
"Yes, ma'am"
♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎
i cannot keep pretending I'm not actually SO down bad for this man like UGHH I moan every fucking time I see him, I need him IN ME😩
I also don't know if this was super terrible yet again. I feel like I still have to get the hang for writing Leon, what do you guys think?
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆older bf!leon fucks passionately you in the back of his car >_<
cw: smut, p in v, creampie
426 words.
The backseat of Leon's Porsche Cayenne smells like leather, cigarette-smoke and him. The windows are fogged to shit, streetlights spilling orange across your bare skin as he pounds into you deep and mean from behind.
One of his big hands clamped around your mouth, not necessarily because anyone's around to hear, but because he likes the way your muffled moans vibrate against his palm. "Fuckin' noisy tonight huh?" Leon rasps against your ear. His hips snap forward, cock splitting you into two with one brutal stroke, thick head kissing your cervix. You choke on a whine, back arching, trying to push back for more even though it's too much.
He's so mean with it :(( doesn't bother with sweet nothing's, just spreads your thigh wider with his knees, angling his pelvis so every thrust drags the fat ridge of his cock against that spot that makes your eyes roll. Your cunt flutters helplessly around him, slick dripping down your inner thigh.
"Greedy little pussy." Leon mutters, sounding almost tender, "suckin' me in like she's scared I'll pull out."
He does pull out—slow and deliberate, just to watch your hole clench around nothing. You whimper into his palm as your hips jerk pathetically. Leon chuckles and then slams back into you so hard the car rocks.
Your palms slap hard against the fogged window for leverage, fingerprints smearing the condensation. He reaches around, rough fingerprints finding your clit, rubbing fast messy circles making your thighs shake.
"Gonna cum again?." He taunts, breath hot on your neck. "Already came twice on my cock like a good girl. Think you got one more in ya doll?"
"Yesyesyes-" you nod desperately, words lost somewhere between sob and moan.
"Shittt, there it is." Leon growls as you start to squeeze around him. Your whole body spasming so tight he hisses between his teeth. "Squeeze me just like that-fuckk yes-"
He buries his cock to the hilt and finally cums, flooding your cunt with thick ropes of semen. His hand finally slips from your mouth so he can grip your jaw instead, tilting your head back to kiss you sloppy and possessive as he grinds through the aftershocks making sure you get every last drop.
When he finally pulls out a thick trickle of cum follows, dripping onto the leather seat. He smirks at the mess, smacks your ass once then drags you back against his burly chest.
"Still breathin' doll?"
You manage a shaky nod, thighs quaking.
"Good." He kisses the side of your neck, "cause I’m not done yet."
leon’s an avid shower sex enjoyer. he admittedly gets carried away washing your hair and likes the warm water on his back when he’s kissing down yours. for what it’s worth he says it’s not unsafe if he’s the one holding you up (seems antithetical)
the most he’ll do for a long time is pet your hair when you find yourself on your knees in front of him. he’s somewhat fundamentally averse to being taken care of on an intimate level that a part of him feels like it’s degrading to you. it’d take remarkable persuasion
leon is an unintentional manhandler. don’t make him hold your thighs apart or your hips down unless you want to feel a little insatiable at the feeling of firm muscle. forget it if you’re ovulating
leon holds your heels in reverse cowgirl. it’s a weird habit. he likes to feel close to you but it tickles just a little
he pulls the “so you like me?” shit with a taunting smile when you’re on top of him and telling him he’s so good. what he really wants is your fingers in his mouth to shut him up, who said that??
he has the serbian snuff film face and a penchant for making eye contact when he has, in his own words, quote ‘missed you s’bad’, that makes it so hard to keep your hips flat when his face is between your thighs and his hands are pushing up your shirt
leon’s trademark is whispering beside you and asking you to ‘please breathe’ even when he himself is rationing what little remains of his control to not move cause you got a tendency to hold your breath when he’s stretching you out
he always hated getting his scars called cool but he doesn’t mind it when you trace them with your fingertips in missionary. you’d never scratch over the angry abrasions but he feels a little more admired rather than mauled. that being said he secretly wishes you would but that reflects his own odd masochistic proclivities
i have a little bit of disdain for leon's inventory space in re9
