I thought I'd already reblogged this OOP. Here's how I feel (nobody cares, I know). Those types of fics always bother me but I just scroll and mind my business usually. But, after seeing one with Leon having a fucking SEVEN yr old daughter and it was an incest fic with multiple gross sexually explicit tags, it legit haunted me for days. Seriously. Can't imagine why someone would want to write it let alone read and enjoy it. Hopefully if there's trauma in their life they are able to heal. But for now, I mute/block writers of those types of fics for my own mental health and because I also fucking have trauma and it's triggering.
So if you write or enjoy those types of fics about Leon, or original characters, or whoever pls kindly do not interact with my blog. Thank you!
on loving a sport that only demanded the best from you, and how you cope with taking your life back from it. (feat leon s. kennedy <3)
You could feel his eyes trained on you, trying to ignore his gaze as you help the kids off the ice and into the change rooms to get them ready for their parents.
You didn't even flinch or look his way when he stopped next to you on the ice, his back resting against the rink. Through all of that, he never took his eyes off of you.
"Is there anything you need, captain?" You finally turned your head towards Leon, trying to figure out what he needed from you.
He didn't say a word, opting to continue to just stare at you. What was going on behind those baby blue eyes, you'll never know. Quite frankly, you didn't even care. But at this point, his staring was starting to freak you out, and you're ready to bolt out of there to avoid his scrutinizing gaze.
"Well, if you're not going to say anything, I'm gonna go-"
"Your skills are still there," he finally spoke up. Your raised eyes brow and confused face must have prompted him to continue. "The way you handle the puck and skate around... You're just as good as you were when we were kids."
With the way your training was instilled in you, it was hard to let go of the way you played hockey. It was true that your instincts were still there, and if you were being honest, you could probably put on a jersey and play better then half of Leon's team. And that was probably putting it nicely.
But the thought of putting on another jersey had bile rising in your throat. You shook those desires out of your head.
"Congratulations, you're the first person to tell me that." He wasn't the first and you know he won't be the last. The moment you stepped away from the sport, all you heard around you were pleas to keep going and to save your home team, with no regards of your health or even what you wanted. It left you bitter, how the people who'd call themselves your 'fans' just treated you like a circus animal, who's only purpose was to keep them entertained. You scoffed, "I'm sorry you won't get your rematch though."
His eyes widened and his mouth was ready to defend himself.
"That's not what I meant-"
"If you're keep going to say the same shit that everyone has said to me, then you can drop it Kennedy," you snarled as you squared up to face him. "I am never setting foot on ice during a game again, and you're just going to have to deal with that." You were exhausted of everyone thinking you owed them an explanation. You didn't owe anyone shit, let alone Leon.
His eyes hardened as he squared up to you as well, not afraid of the challenge you're posing. Fine, if he was going to be stubborn, then you'd just have to beat his ass again.
"I just hate that you have all this talent," he used his gloved hand to gesture at you before continuing, "and it's going to waste when anyone would kill to have your natural skills." He tried to hurt you with his words, and it would have worked had you not heard worse over the years.
Still, it didn't stop anger lighting up your blood and the scars on your heart slowly reopen.
Before you could go off on how very wrong he was, you were cut off by one of the girls from your class. She was talented for her age and you saw a lot of you in her, back when you thought hockey was what you wanted. Part of you wished to deter her from this path and save her from the pain that awaited her. You of all people knew that wasn't your decision to make.
"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything..." her voice trailed off with nerves. Your heart softened as you knelt down to hear her better.
"It's ok, sweetie. Is there anything you need?" you asked as you felt your rage leave your system. You would never be like the coaches you had growing up, always treating your kids with the kindness and care you were denied.
"It's just... I just want to thank you for everything that you do and that it's really cool to have you as a teacher!" Her eyes lit up as she continued singing your praises. Your cynical side wanted to come out and tell her that you weren't as good as she said, but you kept your mouth shut. But there was one thing she said that stood out to you.
"I want to be just like you one day!"
No you don't kid, you thought remorsefully. You didn't say anything because Leon decided to speak up on your behalf.
"You're choosing a great person to look up to." Your eyes snapped up to him, not expecting him to praise you after such a heated exchange. "She's one of the best to ever do it, and you already look like you're on your way to be like her." He smiled at her, his voice confident in his words. You never knew he thought so highly of you, and your heart fluttered at his compliment.
That was the end of the conversation, as the young girl's father had come by to pick her up. She thanked you and ran off to her dad, but you stayed kneeling on the ice.
This is what you loved about the sport. Seeing young players look up to you and having older players validate you. You were so damn good at hockey it hurts you everyday that you would forever be just a juniour player when you knew you could be more- were destined for more.
The silence didn't scare him off, so you offered a little bit of your story.
"It wasn't easy," you finally spoke, standing up with your back to him. "I don't even think I made the right decision sometimes."
"There's always a spot on the team for you," Leon offered. You knew that, with Coach Branagh giving you the same offer. "You're a better player then literally the entire team, except for me of course," he boasted. He didn't see the little smile at his cockiness. He continued, "if you love the sport, there's always a way back."
"But I have to love me more. No sport is worth my life," you said with an air of finality, and you hope that if you said it enough times, your heart would stop aching every time you said it.
Leon deflated, but if he wanted to say more, then it would have to wait for another time. A cursory glance at the clock told you that his practice was about to begin and it was time you head home.
"I'll see you around, Kennedy." You didn't wait for a response, stepping off the ice and unlacing your skates, leaving him standing there on the rink. You grab your bags and head over to your car.
As you left the ice rink, you couldn't help but have a feeling that you're going to see Leon around more often. A small and dismissible part of your heart was okay with that realization.
(Leon gave himself a mission as he watched you walk away again, and that was to break the shell you created for yourself and try to bring back the girl he fell in love with all those years ago.)
(The fact that he wishes to deny is that he never stopped loving you, and he's scared he'll never get over you.)
reader: sorry i don't date hockey players
leon: but... you were a hockey player...
reader: my point exactly
well... hockey boy! leon apparently has my heart and i have @vaaaaaiolet to blame for that. i'm sososo excited to read your hockey boy! leon fic and i am clutching you so hard during these trying times (the nhl playoffs as a leafs fan)
At first he's already tired with the whiplash of your emotions he's gone through throughout the week.
You've been pushing him away, wanting his touch to then back to pushing him away
So when he's sat on the couch and you come in dressed in his shirt and underwear, his attention is immediately taken
After all you've only been wearing bag clothes and sweats so the sudden change...is interesting
You sit on his lap and he's already twitching, he's getting real excited and you haven't even done anything
It goes the same way it always does, a heated make out sessions that then gets dragged to the bedroom where he'll spend at least an hour edging himself into your pussy because he doesn't want it to end
When it finally does and you are full with his cum, he collapses on the bed only to have you swing your leg over and drench him in the mixture of the two of you..
Leon's nervous, a more Subby headspace coming closer as you rock your hips against his sensitive cock begging yourself for another round
Who is he to refuse
RE4R:
You are normally all over him when get gets back from things but today...it was different
Its only when he catches you looking at your app that he realizes what week it is
And he delivers...
He basically becomes a doll for you that you can command to do what you need
You need to be fucked from behind? He's already thinking of the pace hes gunna use
You wanna ride him? He's in position
Its like it rubs off onto him because his cock is constantly leaking throughout the day even if you aren't doing anything
His sweats will have wet patches in the front when he thinks about how needy you are
Infinite Darkness:
Considers it a rewards for how moody you are the week before
But fucking loves trying to sedate the need
Spends the entire week trying not to cave into your advances
Watching you struggle and become a little needier everyday
Sometimes he genuinely can't help it since he's not around but he's a smug bastard and loves when your brattier side comes out
When it does he's punishing you but giving you exactly what you asked for and then some
Your pussy is spent by the end of it, a constant stream of cum leaking out of your puffy lips
He loves he extra affection after, loves it even more if you give him the extra affection when he's still plugged inside you
Damnation:
Smug bastard like ID Leon and sees how long you can go before you are practically begging to sedate your needs
Instead he finds you wrapped up in his shirt trying to use the toy you have when hes away
That just won't do
He's immediately on you helping you, plugging you with his cock and his cum
Afterwards if you are still clingy he's holding you in his lap as he drinks or watches the TV
Helping you get as close to his body as you can hopefully giving you the comfort you seek
Loves it if you are little bit shy about it, like you aren't normally this horny when it happens he smug and just treats it
Also teases you because of your embarrassment
RE6:
Vendetta:
Knows somethings up when you start wearing his favorite shirts
He'll come back from work to just you prancing around his shirts cooking his favorite meal
Its when he hugs you from behind and your nipples already start to pebble through the material as his aftershave hits you, that he realizes
Waits for you to finish dinner, waits for you to admit you want it
He can feel himself getting harder as you snuggle in closer on his lap, squirming your ass against his cock to try and rile him up
When you feel it's hard and twitching you become feral for it
He lets you, opening his legs and lifting his hips so you can take it off
Welcomes the warmth and clenches of you pussy as you sink down on him
And absolutely adores the sight of you riding him in his shirt
Your breast poking through as your back arches
Nipples staying perfectly perked up as the fabric moves over them
Willingly gives you creampies, helping you empty his balls of everything's hes got for you
Death Island:
He can see that you are hesitant to invade his space with your needs
Spying you sitting across from him on the couch, wrapped up in a black with your hand drawing lazy circles on your clit
He's drinking again, lost in thought with everything in his mind but your horiness this week is a welcomed distraction
He makes you work for it though, making you use your fingers to give yourself an orgasm before you can have his cock
Reassures you the entire time that you aren't bothering him and it's a welcomed distraction
As he gets lost in through each thrust he makes gets harder and harder
Completely gets lost in you and you get lost in him
His brain filled with the image of his fluids leaking out around him as he pulls out
Takes a break and a few more sips until you are begging for another round
To which he just smirks and drags you to the bedroom
He knew the day was coming
After all you had your most fertile day circled on the calender every month
It was his favorite day of course...a night filled with endless creampies in hopes he can finally get you pregnant
Because of that you are both like bunnies that day, he doesn't even notice you are clingier than normal
Doesn't care that there's scratches down his back where you are blissfully getting cock drunk
He loves that the breaks in-between each round gets shorter
the fact that his age is even keeping up with this amazes him
It makes him feel wanted and important with how clingy you get
Where you just need him in your space and it doesn't matter if its for sex
He always make sure to wear the all black outfits and your favorite aftershave of his just so it really gets you going
tags: music au, set in 2011, leon is a rockstar (obviously), and reader is a popstar (think like, sabrina carpenter type). rivals to lovers, lots and lots of shitty banter, feelings are CAUGHT!, really bad music related puns, MDNI 18+, unprotected p in v, reader rides that dick into next weeeek, vaginal fingering, lots and lots of dirty talk too. sappy ending <3
summary: You're a sugarplum tabloid darling who's making headlines across the globe, he's a tried and true rockstar who's a household name. Leon S. Kennedy was just another thorn in your side. Until he wasn't. He’s older, meaner, and too good with his hands. You’re supposed to hate him. So why do you feel like you’re falling in love?
word count: 8.4k
a/n: omg... so like... hi again... it's been a while!! i dragged myself out of the depressive pit that is trying to date real men and reminded myself of what REALLY matters (writing fanfiction of men who don't exist) so that's how i'm back here, lmao.
also, BIGGEST thank you's to my gorgeous girls vivi and lea for offering to beta read and leaving the silliest, funniest comments and feedback
anyway enjoy asshole-older-rockstar leon, he's stolen my heart and i want to [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]... i've been shot 47 times
playlist⭑masterlist⭑AO3
You never liked Leon Kennedy.
He’s always been bark and bite, broody and callous. All whiskey breath and tired denim and the kind of stubble that looked more like laziness than effort. Too jaded. Too old. His time has come and gone, and still, somehow, he was headlining festivals, charting on billboards, signing tits.
You’d met him twice before you ever really spoke. Once at an awards afterparty, where he didn’t even look at you when you said hi—just brushed past with a half-hearted “sorry, sweetheart,” before disappearing into a crowd of laughing industry men. The second time, backstage at some benefit concert. He’d been in the wings, watched you be hurried past in a blur of glitter and gold, murmured something you can only imagine was unsavoury under his breath.
So yeah. You weren’t exactly dying to be his friend.
Which is why it’s so fucking inconvenient that your first real single is now under the same label as his—why you pass each other in the hallway at Capitol every other week, the scent of his cologne arriving before he does, heavy and heady and masculine.
But you’re not stupid either. You knew who he was long before you ever stood in the same room as him. You knew the album that broke him, the single that went triple platinum, the first stadium he sold out. You knew the way critics talked about his guitar playing like it was something they’d never seen before. You might’ve even had a crumpled tour shirt buried somewhere in your closet from high school, but that was a long time ago. That was before you learned what it meant when people said never meet your heroes.
But still there were moments, little things that made you reconsider. Once, at the label offices, he held the elevator door open for you even though you were halfway across the hallway. He didn’t look at you when you stepped in. Just said, “You gonna hit the button or stand there all night?” but his voice had been warmer than you expected.
And maybe it’s all in your head. Maybe he’s not thinking about you at all. Maybe he’s just that kind of man—coated in disinterest, carved out of concrete. Still, there’s something behind the way he looks at you that you still haven’t quite figured out.
It’s midnight when Leon finds the fork in the road that decides his fate.
It’s the voice of an angel that seals it.
He’s not even supposed to be standing in the liminal space outside your door and wondering if he should go in. He’s not even meant to be thinking about you at all.
He was thinking about the rain. About how he’d failed to remember an umbrella, about how his car smells like mildew and the CD player is still shot. About how he hasn’t written a decent song in six months. His manager had so kindly told him to go home, sleep it off, stop showing up to the label’s building like a ghost to its haunt.
And fuck if he’s already had his fill with the shitty elevator. Leon’s busy jamming the buttons to the ground floor, stuck on the second, when he hears it.
A pretty litany of sun-soaked lyrics that spills into the hallway and the elevator the same way the light from the half-opened door does.
That’s how he finds himself here: standing outside your studio door, staring at the plaque with your name engraved in gold like it’s daring him to knock.
He doesn’t. Just opens it.
“Didn’t know they let you keep the studio past your bedtime.”
It’s a joke. Kinda. He winces halfway through delivery, like he hears it too late. Nose scrunching like he didn’t mean it, and truthfully he doesn’t think he did. God, Kennedy, didn’t anyone teach you to think before you speak?
You flinch—just a little—eyes snapping open as you pull off the headphones. The track dies in your ears, and the silence feels abrupt, almost rude, like it’s been interrupted mid-confession.
You glance over your shoulder. Leon stands in the threshold looking exactly like he always does—leather jacket, dark jeans, stubble that's a little more dirty than charmingly rugged. He could be anywhere else. He should be anywhere else. And yet.
Your brow lifts, unimpressed. “Didn’t know they let you out of the retirement home either. Should I call someone?”
Leon scoffs. “I’m not geriatric.”
“Sure.” And you turn back to the soundboard like he doesn’t exist.
He stands there, lips pursed like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.
“So… what was that?” he asks.
You sigh like it costs you. Slip the headphones off and let them settle around your neck. “A song. You’re familiar, yes?”
Leon rolls his eyes. “Plenty. You’ve got a smart mouth, kid.”
You grin, all teeth. “Thanks.”
He lets that hang in the silence for a beat, then has the bright idea to push off the doorway. He wanders in and makes himself at home in your space. His boot grazes a stack of scribbled sheet music, and he nudges it aside with his toe like he’s being polite. Then he drops onto your couch without asking—moves a cushion, spreads his knees, settles like it’s shared property.
You shoot him a look. “Comfortable?”
Leon shrugs. “Your feng shui needs work.”
“What do you want?” You finally ask, defeated.
He nods toward the board. “Play it.”
You blink. “What?”
“The song. Play it.”
“You’re really bad at this, y’know.”
“At what?”
“Basic human interaction. Hospitality. Small talk.”
He blinks, caught off-guard like he’s never been told that a day in his life.
“Sorry,” you say sweetly. “Too honest?”
“Play the damn song.”
You raise a brow. “Magic word?”
Leon just stares.
You sigh, press spacebar. The track tumbles out of the speakers, raw and half-finished. It holds for a moment, teeters, then collapses—unfinished and unsatisfying. You pull your headphones off with a huff. Leon thinks it's cute.
The weight of his gaze burns a hole into your back, makes heat crawl up your spine. You glance at him when it gets too much. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” he hums.
“Felt like you wanted to.”
He laughs a little then, like the meekness to your voice is amusing. “I was just gonna say it’s close.” He murmurs, “But it’s stuck.”
You exhale through your nose, lean back in your chair, swivel from left to right. “No shit.”
You don’t see him move as much as you hear him, the creak of the aged leather couch, before there’s the familiar dull ring of your guitar.
“You don’t mind, do you?” He asks as he slips into the second chair next to yours, you try to ignore the way your skin prickles when his knee knocks yours.
“Mi casa, su casa,” you sigh defeatedly, his lips quirk and you find yourself smiling against your will.
Leon decides your song just needs some weight to it. Typical of him. All his music has weight. A smoky, heady bass, a sexy guitar, heavy drums, but what he plays for you is none of that.
Yes, it holds weight, but a different one to what you pinned him for. It carries something gentler, softer chords that fill your lungs with exactly the type of yearning you were aiming for.
You pause. “That’s…”
“Exactly what you wanted?”
You nudge his knee with your own, hit record on the soundboard, “do it again.”
And so it begins.
You find that Leon isn’t so bad when he’s writing music with you. In fact, within the four soundproof walls of your studio, he’s almost nice. He listens when you tell him to change a chord. He lets you needle him, prod at his composure like you’re tuning a guitar string too tight just to hear it snap.
Most nights you’re in the studio until the twilight hours before sunrise. You stay until your voice is worn ragged, fingers blistered from overuse. Until your limbs give out and you’ve passed out in the swivel chair, curled up like a cat in the glow of LED strips and mixing boards. You always wake to something left behind—a lukewarm cup of coffee, a half-drunk energy drink, sometimes the old throw blanket draped over your shoulders. It’s a rhythm now, syncopated and strange, yet something you’ve grown fond of.
It’s only inevitable, the way you grow closer with time.
“Don’t lie sweetheart,” he murmurs one night in the hush of your studio, “I think I’m growing on you.”
“Like black mold.” you shoot back, but the grin tugging at your lips betrays you.
And it’s just all too easy to think about him when he's not there.
You remember watching his set from the wings at that summer festival—the first time you’d shared a stage. The downpour had been terrible and insistent his entire performance, rain slicking his thread-bare shirt to his skin, turning his hair dark and wild. He’d looked like straight up sex appeal, sweat and storm and strobe lights, and you’d had to physically stop yourself from reaching for him when he walked offstage.
He’d smelt like a thunderstorm, heady as he’d squeezed your shoulders like he was grateful, damp and buzzing with leftover adrenaline. “How’d I do?”
“Not bad, rockstar,” you’d said, but your voice had come out all soft.
Now he lives in your notebooks.
That’s the real inevitability of it, you think. Unreleased verses tucked between grocery lists and studio appointments. Lyrics written in the haze of 2 a.m., voice notes left half-sung on your phone, songs you’ll never show him during your secret writing sessions.
They’re not the kind of songs you should be writing.
They’re laced with want—velvet and teeth, obsessive and desperate. They don’t sound like you, not the way your label wants you to. They’re darker, sultrier, leave you flushed when you play them back.
It’s not like you mean to write them about him. They just come out that way. Something about the way his voice sounds when he's two glasses of whiskey in and recounting a silent film he’d watched three fortnights ago. They’re all pent up tension—the way he pretty much knows his way around your apartment now, well enough to find where you keep the good wine anyway, the way his fingers move over the fretboard of his Paul Reed Smith with a guitar pick between his teeth, the phantom weight of his palm on your lower back when he passes by you.
You bottle every look, every breathy half-laugh, every fleeting moment where you wonder what his hands would feel like if they dipped lower.
Your songs are about him, yes, and they’re for him, in all the infuriating ways you wish they weren’t.
So naturally, the smartest thing to do is keep them buried—demo files hidden in unlabeled folders, notebooks tucked behind equipment cases. Off-limits. Confidential. A bomb waiting to go off.
At least, until tonight.
You’re curled up on the studio couch, Leon’s out at some fancy party tonight, said he couldn't write. There’s a half-empty bottle of wine and the glow of your laptop screen to keep you company, but it’s not enough not the same without him.
There’s a particular song that haunts you. It’s a confession wrapped in delicate ribbons of sultry melodies. Your voice a touch away from a moan, lyrics that dance around his name.
You shouldn’t have written it.
Definitely shouldn’t have recorded it either.
And now you find yourself hovering over the file like it’s taunting you.
Maybe you can blame it on the buzz in your veins, or the way you’d caught his eye earlier that morning in the breakroom. He’d looked at you over the rim of his mug, winked at you like he could read you. You curse yourself under your breath at the memory. He totally knows he’s getting to you. You’d dropped the I-hate-you act three moves back.
So you drag-and-drop the demo. Chew your lip. Hit send.
Check and mate.
But by the time you’ve sobered up enough to panic, it’s already much too late.
Seven minutes. He texts back, and it sounds nearly like a threat.
Bad, bad, bad idea. No, actually, bad doesn’t even begin to encapsulate how horrific of an idea that was. A category-five hurricane of a mistake.
What were you thinking?
Well, clearly you weren’t.
You clamber to your feet, pace barefoot on the studio carpet, wearing a frantic path into the fibres. Back and forth, back and forth. Damage control is like a roulette wheel spinning in your mind, you could delete the message, a phone malfunction, yes, totally. Your label leaked it by accident, or it’s just one big elaborate joke.
Or, or— and this is the best one yet, you could change your name, dye your hair, move to another country where six-time award winning rockstars with stupid voices and stupid fingers on guitars don’t exist.
You’re halfway through plotting your escape through the window when the door clicks open exactly seven minutes later.
You startle like a deer in headlights, eyes wide when they snap up to the man of the hour—to Leon— and your stomach drops clean through the floor.
“You drive fast,” is what you manage. Leon clicks the door shut behind him.
His hair’s an artful mess, like he’s either run his hand through it a million times on the drive here, or just rolled out of bed. You like the former option so you pretend it’s that. His shoulders look tense, jaw tight, and his eyes—dark, sharp, dragging over you like he’s trying to see right through you.
His eyes flick to the littered coffee table, your notebook, the bottle of wine that looks at least a quarter drained.
Something strange flickers in his gaze, and for a minute you paint him as disappointed.
Oh. You realise, with startling clarity, that he thinks you’re wasted.
It’s like a light at the end of the tunnel, a saving grace. It’d be an easy way out, wouldn’t it? Oops, Leon, sorry, wasn’t in my right mind, don’t even remember sending it, haha, how embarrassing!
But you’re not, at least not anymore, you’re standing in front of him with unfortunate sobriety.
“Are you drunk?” He asks, voice low and rough around the edges.
Your mouth falls open, as if you’ve been scandalised. “Uh, rude?” You gesture wildly to the wine, then yourself. “I had two drinks, max. I am perfectly—” you take a dramatic step forward, stop, then another, arms out like you're proving a sobriety test, “—-fine.”
Leon doesn’t budge, stands there with his brows cinched like he’s in deep thought. It gives you space to take the upper hand back, if it was ever yours in the first place. “You, on the other hand,” you point an accusatory finger across the room, “are looking at me like I crashed your car or something.”
You might as well have with the way you have his heart hammering up his throat. He hates it, how you make him lose his carefully crafted cool. Being this nonchalant doesn’t come easy.
His tongue swipes over his teeth. And fuck him, because that shouldn’t be so distracting.
“Fine,” he starts, slow, “you wanna play dumb?’
“M’not dumb, it’s called being coy,” you hum, all too self satisfied.
Leon lets out a short breath of laughter, sharp, shakes his head and turns away like he needs to physically remove himself from you before he does something stupid.
And you should leave it there, because his buttons are officially pushed, yet you don’t feel familiar satisfaction curl around your chest like it should. “If this is about the song—”
His head tips, just slightly. “If?”
You swallow. “I mean—”
He scoffs. Sharp. Disbelieving. Runs a thumb over his lips. “If this is about the song,” he repeats, like he can’t believe you even tried that.
You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again. "I—"
“Don’t,” he mutters. “Drop it.”
Your jaw shuts, and it takes less than a second for Leon to close the distance between you, effectively stealing all the air from your lungs. You resist the urge to back away, to give him that satisfaction, even when your body screams at you to. Not out of fear, but because he’s looking at you like he can finally see right through you.
"You sent it to me first," he says, quiet, but sure. His eyes flick down, over your lips, your throat, back up.
Your stomach turns, and you force yourself to bite back your words, despite how hard they are to swallow.
“And I wanted to believe you were drunk when you sent it,” he says, voice rougher now than before, “would’ve been easier that way.”
You shift your weight, but don’t bow your head. “Easier?”
Your gaze flickers to where his jaw flexes. "Would’ve been a mistake, then. Would’ve meant I could just forget about it."
Forget about it. That shouldn’t sting.
You shrug, aiming for nonchalance, but your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to. "So forget about it."
His voice, that stupid calibre of his, drops to something even lower, something barely above a whisper.
"You really want me to?"
Your breath stutters. He takes your loss of words as an answer.
His fingers brush against your wrist, deft hands circle around the bone, his thumb brushing up against your pulse. Your skin burns where his finger’s graze. His other hand skims up your other arm, brushes against your jaw, and it’s so soft, tentative in a way that makes you shudder, an oxymoron to the storm brewing in his eyes.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, “if I kiss you right now, are you gonna pretend you don’t want it?”
The question hangs in the space between, thick like tar.
It’s only when his thumb brushes against your cheek, that you feel your restraint, thin as hair, give. Slowly—so slowly—you tilt your chin up, just a fraction, just enough to close the distance so that your lips ghost over his, an echo of a kiss, but not quite one. Your move, rockstar.
It’s a thread-thin dangerous thing that sets his jaw tight, he inhales sharply, and you swear you see him tremble.
You laugh softly at that, sweet as ever.
Leon caves.
His hand shifts, curls around the nape of your neck, pulls you flush and slots his lips against yours.
The press of his mouth is warm, wanting, firm and demanding.
But then you smile against his lips—satisfied, smug, victorious—and he groans something devastated.
It’s a low, deep, wrecked sort of sound, something that comes right from his chest, heavy with everything unsaid. His other hand finds your waist, squeezes tight, feels your skin give under his hold, like you’re finally his to keep and he can’t quite get enough.
“Minx,” he mutters, breathless frustration bleeding into his words.
You revel in it, your skin erupting in goosebumps.
His hand tightens around the back of your neck, tilting your head just so—like he’s determined to kiss that satisfaction right off your lips.
Spoiler: he won’t.
Because you kiss him back just as fiercely, just as insistently, pressing up on your toes like you need to get closer, like you could crawl inside his skin if he let you.
Your hands curl around his shoulders, move up to the junction where they meet the column of his throat, tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug and he lets out something that sounds dangerously close to a moan.
And you wonder if he hates this, how easily he unravels for you, how easily you undo him. It’s like you’ve been sent right from heaven to torture him.
His hands find the curve of your waist, skate down the warmth of your skin, the swell of your hips, the back of your thighs, until he’s pressing in, guiding you backward—steady, steady—until the backs of your knees hit the couch.
Your balance wavers.
“Careful,” he murmurs, half-amused like this is funny to him.
He doesn’t give you the grace of finding your footing, pressing forward until you’ve sunk into the cushions.
Leon stands there for a second, looking down at you, eyes heavy-lidded, dark with something that makes heat coil in your stomach. He drags a hand over his mouth, like he’s trying to wipe away whatever impulse is written across his face. Like it might be something reckless, ruining.
Then, he exhales. Sharp and quiet, he sinks to his knees in the space between your legs, a sight so devastating you forget to breathe.
Broad hands wrap around the plush of your thighs, fingers pressing half-moon divots into your skin.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, half to himself, half to you, something dangerously close to adoration lacing his words. His thumb brushes absently along the sensitive skin just above your knee, gaze tracking the way your breath shudders. Ruining, indeed.
And then—oh, then— his palm slips to hook underneath your knee, pulls your leg over his shoulder. You suck in a sharp breath, unable to tear your gaze away from his; bright blue eyes that sparkle something wondrous in the low light.
You try to handle yourself, lest he watch you fall apart from a simple look. “If you think I’m just gonna melt the second you put your hands on me, you’re—” Your breath unfortunately hitches the second his grip tightens around your thigh, makes your pulse jump.
He raises a brow, infuriatingly smug, like he’s daring you to finish that sentence.
You clear your throat. “—you’re sorely mistaken.”
Leon huffs out a laugh, low and knowing. “Sorely?”
You fruitlessly dig your heel into his back, a half-attempt at a kick, a half-attempt at saving some of your dignity. “Yes, sorely.”
His hands slide up in a wordless answer—dragging his nails back down your thigh, nosing at the soft fat, pressing his mouth against the skin. The brush of his lips alone unravels you enough that you can’t muster an appropriate response, shivering, sighing instead.
“Someone’s quiet,” he muses lazily, drags his teeth just barely along your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Where’d all that attitude go?”
You scowl before you can stop yourself. “It’s recalculating.”
A shit-eating smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, “Yeah?” He does it again, open-mouthed this time, sucks supple flesh between his lips, bites, pulls away. “Let me know when it’s back."
Your chest feels like it’s on fire, so instead, your hands find the broad line of his shoulders, curl into the fabric of his shirt, and pull him up by the collar. He follows without much give, your thigh falls off his shoulder when he climbs up to press you into the plush cushion, cages you in. And fuck—you don’t think you should be this turned on by his weight atop you, by the heat of him, by that look in his eyes.
You can hear the way your heart pounds, blood rushing in your ears. Can feel it in your fingertips when you drag them down his chest, his stomach, until they catch the hem of his shirt. You push it up enough to reveal the hard muscle of his abdomen. He shudders atop you.
Leon’s lips are back on yours before you can even think to be smug about it, before the teasing grin can curl at the corner of your lips. It’s hotter now, deeper, tongue sliding against yours like he’s trying to drown you. And in the heat of it, his knee presses between your thighs. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, if it’s a brilliant accident, but either way it makes you keen, a gasp of pleasant surprise tumbling from your lips.
He groans into your mouth, one hand tightening on your hip. “You sound better than I imagined,” he breathes heavily, and heat floods your face.
You swallow hard. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Your heart jumps at the thought of him having imagined this. Having imagined how you sounded, how he would’ve imagined you falling apart. It does horrible things to your head and even worse things to the slick heat between your thighs.
You should have a response by now, something sharp and devastatingly witty, but all you can really focus on is the way he looks at you. Like he’d let you ruin him and call it a privilege. And then he moves, pressing closer, knee pressing up between your thighs more purposefully than before, and whatever witty remark you had queued up promptly exits the premises.
The sound that leaves your mouth is embarrassing. Mortifying, even.
“Oh,” Leon murmurs, voice all smoke and velvet, “there it is.”
You absolutely despise how much you like that, refuse to let him have it. Can’t. Won’t. His ego is slowly swelling to the size of a stadium, and the last thing you need is for him to think he has you all figured out.
So, you do what any self-respecting, prideful person in your position would do: you take the liberty to push at his shoulders, and when he leans back, you seize the opportunity. Grip the front of his shirt, and push him down against the couch. He lets you, laughing under his breath, hands settling easy against your thighs as you straddle his lap.
“Don’t look so smug,” you warn, fingers sliding down, slow and deliberate. His stomach tenses beneath your touch.
“I’m not smug,” he argues, but he’s smiling something devilish—lazy, lopsided, thoroughly enjoying himself. His hands flex against your legs, and you let yourself believe he needs it to ground himself. “Just waiting to see what you’ve got planned.”
Your pulse thrums in your throat, but you play nonchalance better than he gives you credit for. “You got a request?”
“Don’t think I need one,” he says, watching as your hands dip lower, brushing over his belt buckle. “You wrote a song about it, m’sure you have ideas.”
If looks could kill he would be dead, because you’re glaring at him like he’s said something horrific. He is right, but you don’t let him have the satisfaction of hearing you admit it.
Instead, you hook your fingers under the leather, tug just enough to make him suck in a harsh breath. His eyes darken, and it’s thrilling—watching him unravel, shift beneath you.
“Aw, is that all it took?” You coo, pleased beyond words, leaning in close to brush your lips against his jaw. “Usually so put together, doesn’t take much to get you like this, does it?”
Leon huffs a laugh, but goes willingly, tilts his head to let you mouth down his throat. “You wanna talk about falling apart? What was that sound you made just a minute ago?”
You bite down, enough to make him hiss. “Stop talking.”
You can picture the smile that tugs at his thin lips, feel the way his warm, broad palms skim up, under your shirt, pressing into your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, slipping under the band of bra.
His belt slips free with a quiet clink, and you savour the way his muscles jump under your hands as you undo the button of his jeans, the steady sound of his shallow breathing when your fingers brush against the sharp line of his hip bone.
He tries not to push, but you can just about feel the restraining in him, the way his fingers twitch where they rest against your thighs, jaw clenched, muscles tight like a wire pulled taut.
You drag your nails lightly over the plane of his stomach, card your fingers through the thin trail of hair that leads down from his navel, just to see what he does when you do.
Leon sucks in a sharp breath, his head tipping back against the couch, and the sound he makes—low and barely restrained—sends a rush of heat straight through you.
“You’re trying to kill me.” He swears, voice beyond wrecked, and for a second you think he might start begging for mercy.
“No,” you hum, tilting your head, hands running up his chest, under his shirt. “Just having fun.”
Leon laughs—all breathless, shaky around the edges. But there’s something desperate in the way he exhales, in the way his hips shift up just barely like he’s fighting every instinct to meet you halfway.
There must be a devil on your shoulder, he thinks, because you make it worse.
Your hips roll down, testing, barely any pressure, but enough he feels it. His breath punches out of him like you’ve knocked the wind from his lungs. His fingers dig into your thighs, desperation in his grip.
His head falls forward, eyes flicking up to meet yours, and fuck, you really weren’t prepared for how he looks at you—half-lidded, dark with something simmering just beneath the surface.
“You enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and rough, like it pains him to think too hard.
A grin stretches across your lips, heart thrumming with satisfaction, you’ve won, you think, made him fall to pieces without even touching him properly.
But then he exhales sharply through his nose, takes your hand.
He presses it to his chest, right over his heart—fast, heavy, pounding.
“You feel that?” His voice is low, his other hand, still on your back, coaxes you closer. Close enough your lips brush. “You did that.”
You let out a shaky breath, Leon curses because he thinks he finally has you breaking.
You didn’t expect him to do that, to let his walls come down and show you just how much you affect him. Didn’t think he’d pull the rug from under your feet and admit defeat in one fell swoop. He looks at you like he actually wants you, not just the game of it, not just for the win.
He wants you.
…You want him.
Leon watches your face like he’s waiting for you to stop him, but when you don’t, when your lips part like you’re about to ask for something, maybe even beg—he decides.
He leans up, closes the short space between you, and kisses you deep and slow. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. He doesn’t rush, nor does he fumble. Just touches you like he means it. Like he really has thought about this more than he’s willing to admit.
His fingers push at the hem of your shirt, sliding up your ribs, pulls the fabric off like it’s nothing. And when your body trembles against his, he swears to himself he’d do just about anything for you.
He lets you tug his jeans lower, helps you. His hands are steady, careful when he presses against the fabric of your underwear.
Leon watches your face, watches the way your lips fall open, breath uneven, the way your fingers tighten in his shirt, and then—
Then you make a sound so sweet, so utterly wrecked that his resolve snaps like a thread pulled too tight.
“Christ,” he mutters, like it physically pains him, and then he’s kissing you twice as hard as before, deep and wanting, swallowing every breath, every soft noise, every shaky exhale.
His fingers press firmer, so, so eager, willing to coax any sound out of you that you’ll let him. Your hands curl at his shoulders, hips bucking deftly against his palm.
“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you murmur, breathless and shaking, spilling his name into his own mouth.
He stills just barely, and fuck, it wrecks him—he doesn’t know if it’s the way you say it, like he’s something sacred, or the fact that you’re coming undone just for him.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he whispers, pulling away even if it kills him, pressing warm lips against your jaw. “Gotta use your words.”
You blink up at him, dazed. “Don’t baby me.”
His mouth twitches. “You don’t want me to baby you?”
You want to tell him everything. That you want him to touch you like this, and talk to you like that, but also see you, really see you. Want him to want all of it—not just your body, not just the thrill of it, but the gentler parts too. The parts of you that ache when he leaves the room. The parts that want to believe someone like him could care that deeply.
“I want—” you start, then stop, teeth sinking into your lip.
He softens. Just a bit. Just enough.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me how you want it.”
Your throat works around the words. You reach down, let your fingers trace along the waistband of his boxers, and look him dead in the eyes.
“Wanna ride you.” You whisper, voice is thin with adrenaline and want.
Leon groans like it’s been punched out of him. “Fuck. Jesus. Shit.”
You grin, all teeth, trying to ease the gravity in your chest. “Oh, c’mon, rockstar. I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve had a girl say that before.”
He huffs out something like a laugh. “S’different,” he says quietly.
You’re too scared to ask how.
So instead, you kiss him like it’ll shut out the question. Like you can pour your want into his mouth and he’ll take it, keep it, like your secret's tucked somewhere between your teeth and if he’s patient enough, if he presses hard enough, he’ll find it there.
Leon groans into it, hands dragging along the curve of your waist, your hips. His palms are firm there, like he’s claiming something, like he’s grounding you both.
“You ride me,” he murmurs against your lips, “and I swear I’m not gonna last long.”
“Aw,” you tease, all syrup and heat, brushing your nose against his, “poor baby.”
He bites your bottom lip in retaliation, gentle but pointed, and you gasp.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” you whisper, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt before finally, finally, dragging it up, over his head, revealing sweat-warmed skin that you wish you could lick clean with your tongue.
Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much more time to waste. Leon’s handsiness, you’ve discovered, is both a curse and a gift—he can’t seem to stop touching you, and you’re in no hurry to make him.
He helps you shimmy out of your underwear, breath catching when you’re bare before him. He drinks you in, staring like a man praying for patience. Then you sit back slightly, thighs spread over his lap, and he does it again, that mouth of his.
“God, look at you,” he mutters, like he can’t believe his luck. “You’re unreal.”
It makes your head swim, the way he says it.
In hindsight, you should’ve taken more time, wish you’d used your hand to stroke his length until he was begging for more, but the heady haze of sex-soup your brain is swimming in doesn’t leave you much choice. You’ll get him next time, you decide.
So instead you hide the flush of your cheeks with the sink of your hips, and you think it just about does it. Leon groans like it knocks the wind from him, his head tips back against the couch, throat bared, lashes fluttering.
The stretch is deep, thick, just shy of overwhelming. It steals your breath and then your balance, and you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. He’s warm there. Bare skin and heart beneath your palms, his pulse kicking against your fingertips like it might leap out and run to you.
“Fuck— God you’re warm. You’re so warm,” he mumbles, and it’s so hot and heavy it makes you blush hard enough you feel it in your ears, your chest, your thighs.
“Romantic,” you breathe against his jaw, trying for wit but inevitably melting into the moment.
He huffs out a laugh, half-amused, half-ruined. “Mouth on you.”
“You like it.”
“Unfortunately,” he grits out, squeezing your thighs. “You gonna move or just sit there lookin’ pretty?”
He feels you grin against the column of his throat first, then feels you roll your hips sickeningly slowly second.
“Christ,” he moans obscenely, fingers digging into your skin. “You’re—fuck. This is a bad idea.”
You pant, shake your head. “I think we’re way past bad ideas.”
Leon’s hand slides up your back, catches at the nape of your neck, forces your mouth back to his like he needs to taste your smugness. You feel him twitch inside you when you moan into the kiss—high and desperate, something wild climbing up your throat.
“You sound so sweet when you’re full of me,” he murmurs against your lips, and it’s awful, the way your body clenches down at the filth of it. “All that smartass attitude, but now you’re just—” he cuts himself off with a groan, “—fuckin’ whimpering.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Your hand finds the back of his neck, you tighten your grip in his hair and drop your hips again, slower this time, grinding until he groans like you’ve punched the air out of him. You want to crawl inside him, disappear beneath his skin.
“Pretty girl,” he says, low and reverent. “You sound so fuckin’ sweet.”
You whimper at that. Your rhythm stutters.
Leon finds it really doesn’t take much to melt your poor brain. You’re already gone—thighs trembling, mouth open, whimpering nonsense between the slick drag of your hips. He takes advantage where he can, thrusts up into you with a force that makes you hiccup on a wet moan. Cute, cute, cute.
“Leon,” you whisper, voice thin and cracked and ruined. You’re not sure what you’re asking for. More? Less? Everything?
“Yeah, baby,” he breathes, eyes glassy as they flick between your face and where your bodies meet. “Feels good, huh?”
God, his voice. You want to drown in the low timber that rattles through your head when he speaks like that. And of course, you nod. Desperate, mindless, somewhere between obsession and devotion. Your nails dig half-moons into the meat of his shoulders, your hips rocking pitifully.
“Can’t—can’t think,” you admit, a choked sound riding the edge of a sob.
Leon lets out a sharp breath through his nose, swears under it. “Good.” His voice is hoarse, fraying at the edges. “Don’t wanna hear you think. Just wanna hear you come.”
“Yours,” you whisper without thinking, tears burning and cresting your pretty lashes. “Yours, yours, yours—”
“That’s it,” he groans, “My girl.”
Your head jerks slightly, like the words ripple straight through you.
“Your girl?” you echo, dazed, like it floated up out of your mouth before your brain could catch it.
He doesn’t answer—not with words. Just thrusts up into you slow and deep, like he can fuck the truth back into you. Kisses you like you’ve ruined him completely.
And just like that, it’s all too much.
The rhythm you’ve managed to keep starts to splinter, your movements losing precision. You’re clinging to him, breath coming in hot, wet gasps, thighs shaking, body screaming for that last push.
Leon feels it. Sees it in your face.
“You gonna come for me?” he pants, hands sliding down, down, gripping the back of your thighs as you lift and drop, roll and press. “You gonna soak my cock like a good fuckin’ girl?”
“Don’t wanna yet,” you whisper, but it’s fragile, a lie at best. You’re already falling apart.
He groans like you’ve stabbed him. “Jesus, you’re killing me. I haven’t fucked you stupid enough yet, huh?”
His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit, circling slow and punishing.
You arch into him with a cry, loud and unfiltered, every inch of you unraveling.
“There she is,” he breathes, reverent and wild-eyed, watching you fall to pieces on top of him. “God, baby. Just like that.”
“You’re bein’ mean,” You whine, words all slurred, as the tears begin to well and dribble down the pretty apples of your cheeks.
“Oh, angel,” He coos, and god you really do hate how smug he gets. “Me? Mean? You wound me, pretty.”
“Shut up,” you pant, whining high and rutting hopelessly against him.
“C’mon,” he pants, thumb still working lazy circles against the throb of your clit, “I wanna feel you beg for it.”
It’s cruel. Cruel, the way he says it—rasped out like a curse, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever ask for. His hand is steady even as his breath breaks apart. He’s wrecked. Close. You can feel it in the way he shakes under you, in the stutter of his hips against yours.
You giggle helplessly into the crook of his neck.
His thumb presses firmer, tight figure eights.
“Leon—!” your voice catches on a sob, you’re so close it’s dizzying, so wet and full and tense that your whole body tightens like a string about to snap. “Can’t—too much—”
“Too much?” he echoes, low and amused, and god, it shouldn’t sound so tender. “Thought you said you didn’t wanna come yet. Changed your mind?”
You nod before you can stop yourself, head lolling as your hips rut down in frantic little circles, chasing the friction.
He groans at the sight, palm spreading wide across your spine like he’s trying to hold you together. “Fuckin’ knew it. Talk big, but look at you now—makin’ a mess on me.”
One arm tightens around your waist, locking you down, and the other braces at your back as he thrusts up into you again—deeper now, sharper, fucking the air right out of your lungs.
You keen, and he laughs—breathy and soft and so fucking fond that it breaks you open.
“Look at you.” He noses at your cheek. “You’re outta your mind.”
You are. You really are. And it’s all him. The heat of him, the rough scrape of his voice, the way he touches you like you’re something to worship and ruin in the same breath.
“Gonna come,” you choke out, breath hitching as your thighs start to shake. “Please—Leon, please—”
“Fuck,” he groans, and his hips stutter. “Go on, baby. Let go. You’ve been so good for me.”
That’s all it takes. The words hit like a match to gasoline. Your whole body seizes—tight and trembling and gasping as your climax crashes over you like a wave, dragging a whine out of your throat that doesn’t sound human.
Leon holds you through it, rocking you through every pulse, every shudder. He murmurs something into your skin, something quiet and unintelligible, and then he follows—his body locking up beneath you, his breath catching.
“Fuck—fuck,” he hisses, head tipped back, mouth open. You feel the heat of him inside you, feel the full-body tremor that wrecks him. He’s still buried deep, still gripping you like he’ll fall apart if he lets go.
It’s a long moment before either of you moves.
You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, wild and unsteady.
“You alright?” he asks after a minute, voice low and rough around the edges.
You nod, cheek resting heavy against his shoulder, still trembling even when he eases you back. Your body feels like it’s been rung out, soaked in sugar, nerves singing somewhere between pleasure and disbelief.
Your fingers twitch where they rest against his chest, and you murmur something against his neck—something nonsensical, vowels dragging like honey.
“What was that?” he asks, voice hoarse but amused, his hand smoothing over your back, tracing your spine like a secret.
“Dunno,” you mumble, “I think I saw God.”
Leon huffs a laugh. “You talk a lot.”
You don’t respond, just hum again, lost in the float of it—too far gone to be embarrassed, too fucked out to pretend you’re not still clenching around him. You feel him begin to shift, and what starts as a delighted little hum, turns to protest, a whimper slipping from your lips before you can think to stop it when you realise he’s pulling out.
“No,” you whisper, eyes glassy, fingers curling weakly at his wrist like maybe you could keep him there. “Wait—Leon—mmph.”
His laugh is breathy, wrecked. “That good, huh?”
You glare, or try to. It’s weak at best. “Don’t—don’t be mean to me.”
“You’re the one whining.”
“You made me whine,” you grumble, but it comes out slurred, a little dreamy.
Leon grins like he’s won the lottery. He’s still so close, and maybe the way his hands are smoothing over your thighs, up your hips, dragging the touch out like he can’t stand to stop can make up for how empty you feel now.
He has no shame when he cups between your thighs again and presses two fingers there, slow and lazy, you jolt. “Leon—”
He hums, smug. “Messy,” he murmurs, fingers slipping between your folds. “Look at what you let me do to you.”
You shiver hard, half from oversensitivity, half from the way his voice drips with possessiveness. You’re too blissed out to argue, too soft to push him away. Especially when he slides one of those fingers back in, just enough.
You gasp. “Ohhhhh,” you sigh, all delight and dazed affection.
You squirm against him a little helplessly, make a face when you feel him push a little deeper, like he’s guiding what’s left of himself back into you. Your head tips back with a helpless sound.
“Leon—what the fuck?”
He has the audacity to look smug. “What? Can’t let any of it go to waste.”
“Gross,” you whine, trying and failing to wiggle away. He keeps you right there, hands firm but fond, and you know, deep in your bones, that you don’t really want to go anywhere but where he is.
He offers you a real clean-up after your thighs have stopped shaking, drives you back to your place and walks you to the door like a gentleman. It feels all too sweet for the type of night you’ve had, and every part of you wishes this won’t be the last of them.
You half expect him to say something—to ask to come in, or kiss you goodnight, or at least promise to see you again.
But he just smiles. Nods. Taps two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute.
“Night, sweetheart.”
Then he’s gone.
And in the warm lull of dawn, with your sheets still cold and your heart beating somewhere between your ribs and your throat, you wonder what to do with the ache of him still lingering under your skin.
So when morning properly comes—sun high, coffee half-sipped, hair still tangled from the night before—you call.
Just to see if he’ll pick up. Just to hear the line connect.
It rings once.
Twice.
And then you hang up in a panic.
You curse under your breath. Call yourself a hundred kinds of idiot. Your thumb is still hovering over the screen when your phone buzzes in your hand.
Leon Kennedy is calling you.
Shit, shit, shit! You muster whatever dignity you have left, swallow, and answer.
“Sweetheart?” His voice is all sleepy, a little hoarse with morning, makes your heart bloom with warmth. You sink deeper into your mattress at the sound of it, curl into your pillow like it’s his chest.
“Yeah?” you say, like you’re afraid you’ve imagined the whole thing.
“You alright?”
“Mhm.”
“You called?”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna say something?”
You pause to worry your lip between your teeth.
“…No.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. You can hear the rustle of sheets over the line, the sleepy shift of his weight. You picture him in bed—bare chest, tousled hair, phone pressed to his ear, eyes still half-lidded with sleep.
“Alright,” he murmurs.
And then he hangs up.
You stare at your phone, wide-eyed like you can’t believe he really did it. Then you hit call again before you can talk yourself out of it. He answers right away.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hey,” he breathes, voice quiet and curious like a secret. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
You roll onto your back, smiling helplessly at the ceiling. “No.”
He chuckles, quiet and fond. “Me neither. Was already thinkin’ about you.”
You close your eyes. “I liked your voice just now.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“I like yours too,” he says, voice thick. “Sound all soft. Like I should be wakin’ up next to you.”
The room feels warm again, like the night before never ended, whatever figurative line that you’ve drawn in the sand between you seems thinner than ever.
“Maybe next time,” you say softly.
There’s a careful pause. You both hang in the quiet, waiting to see if the moment passes.
“Have you…” he starts, then clears his throat. “Have you eaten yet?”
You shake your head although he can’t see. “No.”
“You want me to bring you something?”
The question bowls you over. It’s too sweet, too easy. Like he’s asked it a hundred times before, like this is just what you do.
“You don’t have to,” you whisper, but the fond curl of your lips slips into your voice and gives you away.
“Didn’t say I had to. Just figured you might want it.” A pause. “Something hot and filling.”
Your throat closes up a little, an uncharacteristic flush to your cheeks. “You mean pancakes?”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Among other things.”
“Leon,” you say his name urgently, too much bubbling to the surface all at once.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“You’re being…” You trail off, plucking at the fraying cuff of your sweater, too afraid to name it how it is, to ruin a good thing.
Another pause, you can hear the soft rise and fall of his breath. “I can be soft on you.” He murmurs, “If you let me.”
You press the phone harder to your ear, eyes stinging. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Good.” He says finally. Then, “Any coffee left at your place?”
“Only if you make it.”
He chuckles, low and fond. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
Do you think you could write pornstar!leon x reader? I’m not in any rush, I just needed to get this idea out
I was thinking older Leon (40s-60s) x college student reader (early 20s at the youngest)
He’s been retired for quite a while, but you stumbled onto his old videos somehow, and you’re obsessed with them. I’m imagining he did them when he was a little older for one reason or another but he stopped. Maybe an erectile problem or he got bored of it. Or something entirely different, it’s up to you.
Then you meet him somehow, one thing leads to another and you’re fucking your favorite ex-pornstar <3
I don’t have anything else in mind, maybe a little good old cunnilingus and something about how the guys your age don’t know how to treat someone right. I don’t know I just needed to share this.
I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!! I really hope you enjoy because I've had the idea for so long and you have provided the best opportunity for it!!
Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Basically Porn, Dom Leon, Age-Gap, Sub Reader, Drinking, Rough sex, Light Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Filming, Unprotected Sex, Masturbation, Erectile dysfunction, implied sex addicts
Words: 4.3k
Thank you Two n Eva for letting me ramble constantly again...and Shy for beta readings ily all (ignore me adding tags when I remember them it's late for me shh)
Part 2
It shouldn't be this hard. It’s not like he hasn’t done it a thousand times already. The method was simple, he could even use his own videos for reference if he wanted to. Leon squeezed the base yet again, willing the damn thing to even just twitch. It didn’t matter what he did anymore, his days of pleasure seemed to come to an end. The viagra that remained unopened in the bedside table was becoming tempting but that was a last resort, a pathetic one at that. It made him feel old to admit defeat like he’s lost his glory days.
Leon squeezed the base again, the pads of his fingers running along his sack. The stimulation gave him something, a small twitch barely noticeable with his dick in his tight grip. Yet, it was something, the only proof that it still had some energy left in the damn thing.
The tip was pink and sad staring at him from where he looked down on it. No longer was it that angry red colour, spewing out dribbles of pre cum eagerly. That’s why the fans liked him, he was messy. If only they could see him now, see this pathetic sight. His page remained bare, the last video posted almost a year ago now.
Not that it mattered, he had enough money from the ones he made because instead of turning it into some production he kept the shitty quality of his phone as it seemed enough for the majority. Well, at least he’s never read any complaint about it.
One more try, that’s what he would do, before either giving up or going for that drawer. His thumb brushed over the tip before he rolled it back. The roughness of his thumb is the perfect contrast to the sensitive skin. He could feel the slick form, a pathetic watery substance that would be no good for a film. With his hand still doing the motion Leon looked to the ceiling with a sigh, something that he did out of boredom didn’t even help him now. Years of abusing the rush of pleasure and his multiple orgasms a night have finally stabbed him in the back. His eyes flicked to the tv, the pictures lighting up the dark room. Never stopping the work on his flaccid cock as he prayed eventually it might spring to life.
Surely it was unhealthy to be obsessed with a guy like this, to watch the shitty pornhub videos he posted nearly every night like they were some bedtime programme. The cumshots, whimpers and moans all send shockwaves down to your core, the puffy nerve working quickly to ensure you know it's neediness. His face card was lethal, hair falling over his eyes that were lined with a dark look. It was all too tempting…arousing. Every night you found yourself in the same position, legs spread as wide as you could get them as your fingers circled your clit in teasingly slow motions whilst you watched the video on your laptop. Your pussy stuffed with the largest dildo you could find online. Always ensuring that you match the same pace of his actions. He never said anything, his groans were enough for you. The deep raspy tone was engraved in your every thought at this point, you were surprised it hadn’t turned into your inner monologue.
You watched his dick twitch in his hands, his hips buckling slightly, all signs that you had learnt was him nearing his end. You worked harder, moving the dildo deeper and slower just like his hips were moving. A punishing brutal pace with the soul goal of his own pleasure. The coil tightened, a thread ready to snap as the minutes of the videos counted down.
How many times have you done it tonight?
You poor clit abused, white hot pleasure searing through your system as your nerves set on fire. Your thighs clamping around both of your hands as you orgasm. The slick flooding out from between your fingers as your brain settles into the right mode to sleep. The fuzziness lingering like a drug. An addiction.
You watched with half-closed eyes and short breaths as he showed off the mess he made across the expanse of his abs. Giving off a subtle wink to the camera before it finally stopped. The date of the post made you frown, it was the most recent one…posted almost a year ago. You couldn’t help the thought’s circling about his life now. Wondering if he would ever post again. Maybe he has kids now, a wife, someone to spoil all the money he earned on.
The parasocial relationship you had formed with him was wrong and a stupid thing to cling onto. You were sure to be the only activity on his page anymore; there was definitely no one else was this insane to choose only one pornstar to get off to. Let alone the one who hasn’t posted anything recently. His videos were always more like a home video, shitty quality, barely audible, it really wouldn’t surprise you if he filmed them on a camcorder.
You weren’t even sure if any other dick would get you off at this point – not that you had anything other than the dildo to use. Though, if you did manage to bring someone home, you suppose you could beg for them to quiet as you closed your eyes to imagine him. The thought caused embarrassment to settle in your stomach, the sex addict he had made you become was shameful at least that's what you had been raised to believe.
A woman shouldn’t be this in tune and free with her sexual side, it was always wrong according to your parents. Your sexuality was something for a man to explore and take only for himself. It wasn’t for you, it shouldn’t be pleasurable for you. If your friends knew, they would also shame you for this. They didn’t need anymore fuel for how lonely you were, your search history would surely traumatise them.
Your eyes flicked down to the corner of your laptop, blinking away the tears that lingered in your waterline, to see the time. 30 minutes to get ready before you leave for drinks with your friends. To see the indie rock band that was playing tonight, your friend's boyfriend, the lead singer. You had no idea why that meant you had to go, though the promise of their bar tab convinced you. There was no hope in going home with someone, never was anymore. All the old fucks that lined the seats of that took away the eyecandy you were looking for and if you did find them…well even you knew that you deserved better than some small dick looking for a quicky.
Your outfit was simple and comfortable. The jeans hugging you perfectly, the top low cut enough to show off the girls that were definitely co-operating tonight for a change. Their perkiness was evident in every step you took towards the bar, holding your arms around yourself to fight off the lingering cold in the air. You wafted through the cloud of second hand smoke, breathing the scent in deeply allowing it to settle in your lungs. Old habits never strayed too far from reach you suppose.
The music vibrated through the floor, bodies bumping into as you made your way to the stage. Your friend greeted you with a large smile, her eyes sparkling with joy as she glanced back at her boyfriend. Their relationship was sweet, full of honeymoon type of love and appreciation. You envied them, that somehow in this crap world they managed to find a sweet relationship. You weren’t built for that, not when you were here at this moment and all you could think about was returning home and dealing with the pulsing need in your underwear.
A drink was shoved in your hand, one from her ‘to loosen you up a bit’ apparently. You looked too tense, ridgid for someone that was here to have fun and enjoy the moment. The neat whiskey burned on the way down, settling somewhere deep in your chest. It warmed you, distracted you; both were welcomed in this scenario. “Is everything alright tonight? You’re like a wooden doll” Your friend laughed as she walked you over to the bar. Her grip was at least grounding, stopping the internal fire blazing inside you. “Yeah I’m good, just a rough day”
“Good job you’re here then” she laughed, handing you another drink. You watched the amber liquid swirl, the condensation running down the sides of glass reminding you too much of him. Of the scenes you have watched over and over again. She waved her hand in front of your face, breaking the trance you had on the droplets. “Are you sure you are okay?”
How could you tell her that you were itching to return home? To lay in your soft sheets and watch him. Your skin burned – desire running through you constantly. You couldn’t do anything about it, everything reminded you of him.
“Drink to forget?” You responded, smiling weakly at your friend. Hers only grew a wild look in her eye before calling a round of shots, bringing you into a side hug whilst giggling. It definitely worked. Your body felt lighter, happier. That burning desire now muted until you at least got home. Your hips swaying with hers, smiles and laughter filling the bubble you had formed around yourselves.
It was your turn to collect the next round of drinks, your shoes dragged across the floor, boots scuffing against the things that had fallen out of people's pockets. Barely avoiding people's elbows as you passed them. You attempted to avoid looking at the couples pressed against the walls, their lips locking onto each other in a heated exchange of passion. Thankfully their moans are muted by the volume of the guitar.
Yet, you froze in place as your eyes fell upon the slumped figure at the bar. You tried blinking away the drunken haze, the one that blurred with the lights of the bar whilst you observed every curve of the muscle he bore, the nose bridge…hands wrapped around the beer bottle. It couldn’t be. No you weren’t that unlucky and lucky at the same time. Not when you were finally forgetting about him tonight, about the fantasies and daydreams over what he would be like.
His head lifted as his eyes scanned over the pool of people dancing, the flashing lights blurring their movements. Except for yours because you were still stationary like an idiot, looking right at him. He observed your form as you finally finished the journey to the bar and ordered a large cocktail topped with ice and a glazed cherry. Leon's eyes ran over your chest as you leant against the bar. Your chest was moving slowly and deeply like you were trying to calm yourself. Your nails are scratching at the rings of alcohol that were left on it that your focus now remained on. He couldn’t approach you like he would have in the past, the obvious age gap didn’t bother him. Your youthful skin would feel heavenly under his calloused fingertips. No, the lack of the twitch in his trousers as he perved on you was a reminder that after his failed attempt earlier to get this shit to work before he gave up and dragged himself here. At least the band playing tonight was actually decent. For once.
He never looked away, not once. Not even as people filtered in front of his line of sight. Everytime you allowed your eyes to drift over to him, he was still watching; taking slow sips of the beer he was nursing. The temperature of the drink cooled your skin as you took it from the bartender, savouring the liquid encouragement as you sipped on it. The cherry cola cocktail settled better than the whiskey you had drank earlier. It was dangerous mixing your drinks, each drink adding to the tipsy haze you bore. The cherry was sweet as you slipped it into your mouth. The vodka infused with it makes you smile.
Leon couldn’t pull his eyes away if he wanted to, not as you drank. Your neck looked perfect as you extended it whilst lifting the glass, your lips curving into a smile as you chewed on the alcoholic cherry. He licked his lips as he watched, almost trying to imagine which part of your neck would be the most sensitive spot to suck one. Which spot would force you to sing perfectly to him? Would it taste like sweat and perfume as he kissed your neck? Or remain flavorless like all the girls he was with before.
You smiled when your eyes finally met again, a big toothy grin that proudly displayed the cherry stem from between your lips.
Perfectly tied.
It was only then he felt the throb, the one he's craved to feel for over a year. His cock quickly worked its way to a semi as he watched you saunter over. Your perfume filled his senses as you slid into the chair next to him. His suspicions on what you would taste like as it smelled expensive. Moving to sit with him was a bold move on your behalf but with the liquid encouragement flowing through your system you just decided to run with it. If this worked, you would be a fool to waste this chance. You simply place the stem on the bar in front of him, now glaringly obvious you were skilled with your tongue.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” He chuckled. His blue eyes now bore that dark look underneath the strands of hair that fell over his face. Leon leaned back in the stool, his chest turned towards you. The shirt was tight, straining against him as he moved showcasing everything you knew lies beneath. “Research, thought it would be a useful skill to learn” You teased, your body subconsciously leaning towards him. His deep musk hit your senses, the linger smell of the beer in the air he exhaled. It was intoxicating, just as you imagined it would be.
“You always do this?” He asked again, the green bottle putting some distance between the two of you as he sipped on it again. The condensation ran over his fingers as he raised it. Leon smirked against the rim of the bottle as he watched your eyes flick over his hand. “Only with guys that eye fuck me across the bar” You retorted, blinking slightly as you looked back towards his eyes. He hummed deeply, considering his next actions which were largely influenced by the throb of his cock. “How often does that happen?”
“Calling me pretty?”
Leon chuckled, finally leaning forward into your space. His hand landed on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. “I’d be lying if I said you weren’t”
You scanned his face, breath faltering at his closeness. Everything faded to the background, you forgot where you were, why you were here. All gone as you savoured the addiction of his smell, the curve of his features now they were close enough. You wanted to whimper his name, kiss his lips until they puffed up more. Leon smiled as your tongue darted out between your lips, licking them slightly. Your saliva creates the perfect gloss across them, making them even more tempting.
As soon as your lips met you melted. Your hands found the inner curve of his thigh as you moved closer, leaning into him for support. The passion was addictive as the kiss grew heated, his touch set you on fire as his hand cupped your jaw possessively. When he finally pulled away, he laughed as you chased after him. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours”
His hand was larger than yours as he pulled you along with him out of the bar. The cloud of smoke greeted you again, settling deeply in your system as you both waited for the cab. His lips were upon you again, chasing the growing erection in his trousers. The one that was now becoming painfully hard, not that he would argue. He grinned into your lips, held you closer letting you feel it against your stomach. Feel the want, need, hunger he had for you.
The cab ride continued the heated exchange and wandering hands as he cupped your body, fingers rubbing over your peaked nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You almost felt bad for the driver…almost. Never would you have expected him to be so needy. To seem like he wanted this just as much as you. Not with his extensive collection of media anyway, surely you were just another fuck and you should be pawning over him more than he was over you.
The door slammed shut behind the two of you, both immediately toeing off your shoes without breaking the kiss. He leads you further inside, his hands stripping clothes like a trail. Leading all the way to the infamous room, the bed with sheets that smelled like him. That collected everything he proudly showed off in his media. He was painfully hard now, his cock tenting obviously in his underwear as he pushed you on the edge of the bed.
Leon’s cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. The black lace that decorated your body, hiding the things he wanted to taste and feel the most from view. You were magic, a drug to him. Lust finally only filled his senses as his cock twitched against the fabric. No longer was it pathetic and weak like earlier. Fuck he felt great, alive again…
You removed your bra, displaying the perfect peaks to him as you stretched your arms above your chest. He licked his lips, watching them bounce with your movements. Grinning as you laid back against the bed, lifting your hips to remove the underwear that covered your sex. Proudly displaying the weeping mess to him, as a juicy dessert for him to devour if he pleased.
The whine that left your lips was embarrassing as he pulled his boxers down. You were greeted with a live viewing of his leaking tip, the substance no longer that pathetic watery mess he produced recently. You finally got him working again. You moved up the bed as he hovered over you, smiling as you were surrounded by every sense of him. The giddiness of your dreams peaking through. As he began to rub his cock through the wetness of your folds you couldn’t help but moan. The syllables of his name were drawn out as he teased your clit with his tip.
But he hadn’t told you his name.
His hands grasped your cheeks tightly, bringing your eyes back to him with a widened stare. “What did you say?” He demanded. You looked up at him dumbfounded, your brain scrambling for an excuse that would stop the flood of embarrassment. “How do you know my name?” He continued, his grip loosening as he stared down at you. His cock twitching at your entrance. It was all too arousing.
“Y-your videos…” You sputtered out, hips pathetically lifting from the bed to continue the feeling of his movements earlier. Your stomach tightening as a sly grin began to form on his face. “What a little whore I’ve found…a fan of mine hm? Wanted to get a feel of this?”
He emphasised the question by notching his tip at your entrance, feeling the tight hole clench and twitch around it. “Y-yes” You admitted, eyes never leaving him. Leon pulled back, his thighs moving underneath yours as he reached over for his phone. Left abandoned on the side earlier in the night. It didn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. The extensive list of his filmography highlighting your features as he turned the device towards you. “Which ones are your favourite then, sweetheart?” He chuckled.
The question was a hard one to answer if it had been asked by anyone in general, but now he was asking it? You felt the pressure, the shame of having to admit which one you touched yourself to the most, the one that made you the wettest. “This one” You whispered, clicking on it. Only to then be met with the shlick sounds of him rubbing himself. The tip appeared and disappeared between his fists in a rapid motion, unlike the speed he was now teasing you with. “You liked watching me get myself off, pumping this hard throbbing cock towards the camera?”
You responded with a nod, hiding your features in the bedding beside you. No he wouldn’t let you do that. Not when his cock was practically screaming to be sheathed inside your warmth. To feel your perfectly aroused pussy throb around him. He stopped his movements, the sound of the video barely audible over your panting.
Leon gripped at your face again, guiding you to look at him. “Such a dirty girl you are” He teased as he finally pressed himself into you. His own noises became pathetic whimpers as he finally felt himself be surrounded by his addiction, finally giving into the craving after his body forced him to go cold turkey from. He didn’t need the meds that still lied in the drawer next to you, not when your perky breasts moved against his chest. The nipples peaked and sensitive as the movements forced moans out of you. His name was heaven on your lips, the perfect melody.
You didn’t notice that Leon had now leaned back again, not when he was assaulting you with the perfect amount of pleasure. His hips moving in a slow grind, hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. There was no point holding back your moans, not when you felt his cock throb inside you at every one. You felt the puffy vein you always wanted to trace with your tongue running along inside you, his cock barely existing before he drove it back.Then you heard the beep of his phone camera recording and his deep chuckle.
“What a lucky fan you are” he spoke, the camera aimed at the action of him entering and leaving.
“Be a good girl and hold this steady, yeah?” He instructed, angling the camera in your hands for the perfect view of him drilling into you. The change of pace was intense with how sudden it was, the rhythm soon becoming the perfect thing you needed as the coil quickly tightened up. However, Leon wasn’t aiming for your release, only his own. You began to move against him, squirming away as you lingered on the edge of overstimulation.
“Hold it steady now”
Leon groaned at your whine, at each clench you lovingly offered him. His hand held yours, angling the camera back at the money shot where his cock drove into you. Removing his cock only once to circle your clit with the tip. Finally now angry and red again for the camera, weeping his pre all over your untouched skin. He was making a mess of you, a glorious one. The pleasure was perfect as he chased his own. His hips moved faster and faster until they became a bruising pace.
He looked perfectly like this, hovering about you. It was everything you ever imagined and thought of during the day. His eyes remained screwed shut as he took in what he craved. “Fucking perfect” he grunted. He never spoke in his videos, only producing his grunts and moans. This was a first…a first for a lot of things.
The most important one being his first orgasm in a year. He never released he needed a younger pussy, a perfectly neat one for him to abuse and ruin with the size of him. To mould it for only him and no one else. He sucked against your skin, nipping at your breasts, releasing them with a loud pop. “Fucking hell…”
You felt his hips buck harshly, a groan leaving his lips…the signs of his release. You moaned his name again as his finger toyed with your clit. The muscles of your tights twitching as you finally orgasmed with a desperate whine. You felt like you were on cloud nine, with the added tipsiness of the bar earlier. Leon continued to assault you through it, the fuzziness of the evening blending together as all his blood rushed south. He pulled out of you, aiming his cock towards the phone and was still angled at the action. With a few harsh pumps, his load came spurting out coating your body in his translucent substance.
Your chests heaved as you stared at each other with lust blown eyes. The post orgasm status settling in. Regret from either of you nowhere to be found, only the neediness and desire for another round.
It wasn’t until a few days later you got the text from him. Opting to not contact him first in fear of looking even more like a crazed fan. Despite the fact he wanted to keep in contact. You must have been a pretty good fuck then. The thought offered a light ego boost for a few days at least. To Leon you were perfect, his cock constantly throbbing to life now he had the crappy video on his phone but he wasn’t selfish. It was only fair that you got to see your side of the action, to witness the pornographic moment of that night. Which you helped create.
‘Did you see the video?’
Confused, you checked his page, waiting for the small circle to stop spinning in the corner of your laptop. The title made you blush, the throbbing need that had been satiated for the past few days rushing back quickly.
Can y’all not see how fucked up the leon tag is I made this account to call this shit out somebody wrote RACISM they made Leon a racist and I checked they write about J*mmy from mouthwashing who is a r*pist and offender.
I am not going through the whole text again it’s gross and this person (@/rimqueen) has written DAD X DAUGHTER (not platonic) and r*pe
This shit isn’t even the worst part in the fanfiction
Summary: You had one job and three rules. And you broke every single one.
Word count: 2.18k
Genre: Smut. Mafia Au.
Pairing: MobBoss!Leon x PrivateDriver!Reader
Warnings: Swearing. Gun violence. Some angst. Mention of death. Leon’s a bit bloody. Blood (obviously). Unprotected sex. Car sex. Squirting. Light-hearted banter. Hinting of sex work and abuse (doesn't go into detail). Speeding. Car chase. Fingering. Fucking while driving (don't do this). Pet names
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"So you like to drive cars? Or just for me?" His voice was deep, smooth like vintage whiskey. You could see his eyes stare you down through the rear view mirror.
"Mr. Kennedy, I can reassure you that you are one of my favourite people to drive for. But try not to boost your own ego. I do drive for others and ride other things other than your car." You didn't even smile, knowing exactly how to play this cat and mouse game that all Mob bosses do. But Leon was different in a way. You felt a thrill bloom in your tummy whenever his eyes were on you.
"Ride other things? Like what?" He sipped his liquor, legs spreading wider, with one hand resting dangerously close to his crotch.
"Mr Kennedy. Don't flatter yourself." You smirked.
"Oh no, i want to hear it, darling. What else would you find enjoyable to ride?" He shot the last of his drink, his hand evidently palming his clothed hard-on.
"I think you already know the answer sir."
"Hmm," was all he responded with.
-
That night you’d fuck yourself on your dildo with the idea of Leon palming himself while you drove. The way his soft pants and whimpers were stuck in your brain, playing on repeat as he continued to pleasure himself while you drove him home. You couldn’t have dropped him off sooner, cause you swore he was going to cum in his pants if he kept going.
‘Until next time, bunny.’
His voice was so smooth. Deep. You know you were playing a dangerous game by becoming involved with a client much less a feared mob boss that would kill someone that looked at him the wrong way. But the way he looked at you through the mirror every time you drove him. He was always so happy to see you, chatting about anything to keep his mind off his work. You were an escape for him. Something that was a reminder he was supposed to be this angry man twenty-four-seven. No, he could, laugh, tease, flirt, with you and you’d either shut him down or egg him on. Both of which rial him up even more.
The idea of touching you, having you. Even if it was for one night, it was becoming increasingly more tempting. But alas, he knew you. You are professional, and you wouldn’t disobey your company’s rules.
Do not sleep with the clients.
But something deep in your soul was screaming at you that all of your morality was about to go out the window. You were sent to pick up a client on a south port right after they had finished some trade. Well, that was the plan, at least, but here you were sitting an hour later after the supposed pick-up. This is getting ridiculous. You thought, shifting in your seat, trying to keep your muscles awake. What is taking him so long?
You knew of the client. Some lowlife trying to make it big in the mafia world. How he managed to hire you was a mystery. Maybe a debt is being paid? Or some sweet talking. But then again, from what you heard, he had neither up his sleeve. You closed your eyes for a moment, just a moment, trying to rest the tired feeling you were experiencing behind your temple. Everything was quiet, peaceful almost… Well, that was until you heard a gunshot, then two more following it.
You sat up and looked around frantically, spotting a few men rushing out of the large barn that sat by the waterfront. They were chasing a man, a scruffy blonde, looking like..—it’s Leon… it’s Leon S. fucking Kennedy.
The side door opened to a bloody-looking man with a feverious smile. His adrenaline was pumping to the point that you could see the veins in his neck bulging. His gun was still tight in his grip, wiping his brow with the back of the same hand. “I need you to get us out of here, princess.”
“I..B-but. Wait. My client…” You were so confused, not even registering you started the car. The men that had been chasing Leon were hot on your tail, so you began to floor it through the back roads of the port.
“Uh, yeah, well. He’s dead. He didn’t like the deal I offered and the bitch thought he could beat it out of me. ME! The king of fucking Raccoon City. Fucking arrogant pig.” San rambled but you barely heard what he had to say about the client. No, all you could think about was getting the fuck out of dogged and away from any of the crooks Leon managed to piss off. But then again pissing people off seemed like Leon’s specialty.
“Where do I even go from here those bastards are probably tracking my fucking car.” You’ve never spoken so out of line before in front of a client but here you were. Leon just raked his fingers through his dirty hair, licking his busted lip.
“Why would they be tracking us.” Leon started searching through the glove departments for any signs of a tracker, but you just huffed, clutching the wheel tighter before almost screaming at him.
“They would be tracking us ‘cause they are the ones that own this fucking car and I was supposed to drive their fucking boss to a fucking safe house you idiot.” You didn’t mean to blow up but the tension became so thick in the vehicle you felt like you had no choice. Leon sat still for a moment, never hearing someone call him out of his stupidity before other than his right hand, Ada. The silence was making your skin crawl, making you suddenly aware you just yelled at a mob boss. A mob boss that was definitely packing some kind of weapon…The fucking king of Raccoon City as he put it. You suddenly felt a hand touch your thigh making your whole body jump and the car almost swerved off the road.
“Well go on. Get us out of here, darling.” His voice was smooth and collected. It made your head spin. “B-but the track—If we get far enough, the tracker won’t reach, and then we can dump the car and run." Leon chuckled, turning back to stare at the road. You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep focus on the tar in front of you. He hasn't moved his fucking hand…
You started to speed up, swerving through the small amounts of traffic. You kept eyeing the rear-view mirror checking your back, and you noticed several cars tailing you.
Bastards.
You took a sharp left, causing Leon to shift in his seat and his hand that was perched on your thigh to slide up higher. You visibly shivered, making Leon aware of where his hand went. He just smirked, "Such a good girl. Getting me out of here. Remind me, why you don't drive for me permanently again?"
"Cause you flirt too much and I'm…" you felt his finger brush against your inner thigh… "I-I'm in a contract with the company I work for."
"Hmmm, well, you know I'm pretty good at making contracts disappear." He dared to reach further, and you were delusional enough to open your legs a little for him.
"H-he'd kill me. I can't leave." There was so much more in your contract that Leon didn't know of, but he could think of a few things the scum bag made you do. You have a passion for driving and driving fast. And he used that to get you to do other shit for him. Bastard.
"You won't have to ever do anything for him ever again. Come home with me. I'll look after you. Let you ride any of my cars… and anything else you might want…" he leaned towards your tense frame, seeing your knuckles turn white from how hard you held the wheel. "I'd give you the moon if you asked, darling. Anything you want you’ll get, my best girl."
Best girl…. oh, now your head is definitely spinning. Your foot hit the gas harder, reaching a long stretch of dirt road. Sitting at 90, you jumped to 120. "L-Leon…"
He popped the button of your dress pants, slipping his fingers delectably down until they grazed your bare core.
125km/h
"You like to be called my Best girl, huh? Just need some praise, princess?" His breath tickled as he licked a strip along your neck up to your ear, biting your ear lobe. All the while, his hand dipped further, running his long finger along your slit. "Fuck your soaked baby. Wet for me baby?" He chuckled, deeply.
You bit your lip, trying so hard not to close your eyes. "Leon p-please." You didn't know why you said that, but it was all you could think of. He pushed the pad of his finger against your clit, rubbing in slow little circles.
130km/h
"God you know how much I've thought about this pussy. How much I've dreamt about fucking her, tasting her. I bet you taste like fucking honey darling." His finger slid into your aching hole, making you gasp.
135km/h
Your watery eyes looked through the rear-view mirror, seeing no one behind you anymore, just a thick dust cloud created in your wake. You felt his finger slip in and out of you, making you open your legs wider for him. He chuckled, kissing your neck more until.
You slammed on the brakes, drifting the car through the dirt until it spun around and stopped in a sharp huff. Everything happened so quickly, but it was like you and Leon were in sync. Undoing your belts, he pulled his chair's brake, pulling the seat backwards so he had more leg room and was angled so you could climb on top of him.
Your lips captured his in a hot and messy kiss while his hand worked his belt and pants, slipping them down just enough so his naked ass could rest on the leather and his cock slapped against his clothed abdomen. You pulled your pants off while still in your seat. Ditching your slip-on sneakers before climbing onto his lap.
He gripped your blouse, ripping it off so the button flew everywhere. Neither of you cared though. Not as his lips latched on the top of your breasts, tugging your bra down so your tits could spill over the top. "Fuck,"
He groans as he catches a glimpse of your body. You are perfect, better than he imagined. "This was not how I wanted to ravish you."
"Yes, it was, don't fucking lie." You cut him off with another kiss. In truth, you were right. He had many dreams of fucking you senselessly in one or all of his vehicles. Maybe even on his bike, too.
"It's the thought that counts." He laughed against your lips.
"Shut up." You pulled your panties aside, sinking your fingers inside yourself. Leon watched in awe as you stretched yourself out on top of his twitching cock. And as if you could get more perfect, you moaned his name while doing it.
"Fuck your gorgeous." He slammed his head back against the chair and groaned as he bucked his hips up to try and get some kind of friction. But what he didn't expect was to feel your hand wrap tightly around his aching shaft. "Jesus fuck.."
It was your turn to giggle now, shifting your weight you lined your soaking entrance to his red angry cock tip, letting him breach your walls with a pop. You slowly sank down on his inch by inch. His hands flew for your hips, helping you bottom him out. "L-Leeonnnn y-you're huge. Fuck."
"Don't say shit like that. I-Fuck.. I won't last." His eyes hazily gazed to where you were connected feeling you pull up, then slam back down onto his cock. You circled your hips, drawing loud moans from both of you. Your hands fly to his shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours. Chest to chest. Leon nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a large inhale through his nose. He could smell your sweet perfume mixing with the lewd scent of sex.
"So perfect." He mumbled, bracing his feet to the floor before jackhammering into your soaked cunt. Your screams were muffled against his neck as his pace became ruthless and harsh. Your hips moved out of sync with his thrusts, perfectly letting you grind your clit against his pelvis, sending electricity up your spine.
"Leon, I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum." You whimpered, biting down on his shoulder fearing to draw blood.
"Yes, cum baby. I want to feel you cum around my cock. Be a good girl." He groaned, holding you tighter, feeling his own high creeping closer. Your tummy tugged tight and snapped. Your hips stilling, taking Leon’s abusive thrusts as you squirted all over his lap.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck." Leon slammed deep inside you, splurting his seed inside you, painting your walls with his cream. He kisses your shoulder, legs slightly shaking as he empties his load. You just laid there, taking every drop. Your pussy clenched around him, hissing at the sensitivity. Your fingers were laced in his hair, and his making shapes on your sweat-still clothed back.
"I broke the rules…" You whispered. Leon felt a little guilty that he made you break the rules of your company. He tainted you, and he was sorry for it. You'd never get another job as a driver if people found out you slept with a client. "You made me go over 140. You're lucky there weren't cops out here."
Oh, you weren’t complaining about sleeping with him.
"That's what you're worried about." San had to laugh, hugging your figure tighter as he chuckled against your neck.
"Yes, I could have crashed and fucked the car."
"Yeah, instead, you just fucked me." You sat up and slapped his chest for that comment.
summary: Leon is only really a fuckboy because of some sort of childhood trauma thing. He doesn’t want to be forgotten, growing up ugly isn’t something he wanted to be remembered by so when he got his glow up he obviously used his looks to his advantage. But what happens when he starts to hear another name other than his own making rounds, everyone is raving about this person and Leon doesn’t like this. Is he jealous of them? Or is he actually jealous he hadn’t gotten to experience it yet?
tags/warnings: Minors DNI! Smut, 18+. Complicated emotions, slight mask kink, using of drugs, drugs mentioned, alcohol slightly mentioned, college ditzy bimbo talking, fingering, cowgirl, praise, characters from other franchises mentioned, halloween party, stalking-ish.. not proof read
A/N: hello! i have not been active in a few months oh my gosh.. literally sickening but life is literally sickening in itself? so.. but anyways, i had this idea strike me and it’s taken so long for me to punch it out because i kept changing the plot and rewriting and deleting shit because i didn’t like it. sue me! but yeah i forced myself to sit and write all day, so if some of the plot is not consistent i apologize! i actually got slight inspiration from pawgleon.. like the way the characters speak. i think she portrays bimbo and ditzy talk very well! (this is me partaking in kinktober)
Songs! ^^
Killshot (Slowed + Reverb) - Magdalena Bay
Rehab - Brent Faiyaz
Yummy - Ayesha Erotica
Like a Dream - Thomas LaRosa
Poison- Brent Faiyaz
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Leon’s always made a name for himself ever since Junior year in highschool. He had been considered ugly up until that point, had a bunch of acne (just like a normal growing teenager would), wore glasses, and his voice was still a little high-pitched because his balls had yet to drop. So what? Most boys are late bloomers! Definitely nothing to be insecure about.
He got picked on a lot and all the girls he liked never liked him back, always made fun of him whenever they could and called him a weird freak. But that all changed one summer when he got back to school for the new year.
He had gained a skincare routine, traded his glasses for contact lenses, and even started working out. It made him feel good about himself and it gave him the confidence to say fuck you to everyone else.
When he strolled into school however, it proved to be different almost immediately.
Here he was thinking he would have to defend himself again this year but people actually seemed to like him, girls he had never spoken to in his life started coming up to him. All pretty and perky too.
Now all of the sudden everyone wanted to fuck him and he was overjoyed. He quickly lost his virginity not even a month into starting the new school year, it took him a long while to perfect his craft but soon he got pretty good at knowing a woman’s body, men too.
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A few years later and now he’s in college with a reputation of being a fuckboy. It wasn’t a bad thing for him, considering the fact that he was able to get out the pent up stress college applied onto him.
Leon always got to pick his fruit of the night daily, sometimes even more than once a day. He didn’t have to worry about girls trying to get into relationships with him because of his reputation, one, and two, he was always up front about how he didn’t want to date anyone.
He was 1000% sure that if someone could be labeled as best fuck/hookup he would qualify for first every single time.
Well that’s what he originally thought until he started hearing another name going around, almost as often as his own. He was curious about who this person was, he wondered if they were as good as him for this many people to be buzzing about them.
It only took him a couple of minutes asking around before he found out the full name of the person and what class they were in. Surprisingly they were in the morning class of the same lesson that Leon took except his was more in the afternoon.
No wonder they haven’t crossed paths. No worries, he’s sure that a person like him must be cool enough to become friends with.
Oh how wrong he was.
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You had a decent up bringing growing up, didn’t struggle academically and you weren’t bad looking but you weren’t good looking either. Just plain. No one paid much mind to you in middle school.
It was completely fine with you, no drama, no names to remember, and no one to pick on you. You could honestly say you enjoyed it.
No one bothered you up until you hit puberty, you noticed almost immediately that people started treating you differently. It was strange at first, getting used to everyone trying to butter you up for one thing only.
You didn’t see much of an issue because you didn’t care, you didn’t see virginity as a big deal either. Now you weren’t a hoe or passed around, you just had sexual relations with whomever.
You were pretty ecstatic about going to college you had aspirations and dreams, that dream job wasn’t going to be easy. You needed to have a proper education and a little experience in that field before you even tried.
It was also well known in college that you get to sleep around with whoever you want and receive no consequences.
But never raw, you definitely weren’t trying to get pregnant before your life properly started. You applauded the women who did have babies this early in life and still make something of themselves but you could barely take care of yourself on a daily let alone a whole other little human.
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You sat there in the middle row of the lecture, bored out of your mind. You stared at the chalkboard and occasionally glanced down at your notebook to doodle or something to make it appear you were paying attention. It was just an extra class you were forced to do for extra credits before the end of the semester.
Leon on the other hand was sat in the back row of that same class, he somehow managed to weasel his way into the same extracurricular as you so he could spy on you, a feeling of unease brewing in his belly as he watched you.
He didn’t trust you, he didn’t think you were a whore. That’s kinda hypocritical of him but he was put off by your presence. Maybe a little bit jealous of you and how you managed to make a name for yourself. It was almost like he was challenging you mentally. A challenge you yourself wasn’t even aware of.
He glanced up at the clock when he noticed people getting up, he collected his stuff immediately and quietly followed behind you. Leon felt like he was being a bit stalker ish but he wanted answers. Plus it’s not like he was doing it to be a pervert.
He watched as you met up with some friends to go study in the library, obviously he was still shadowing you from afar. His nose shoved inside a book in the far corner in the library but close enough to spy on you from a distance.
He didn’t gain much information, you were hard working with a flirtatious personality, it was kind of hard for him to gather anything from this. But he overheard you and your friends talking about going to a party, his head perked up a bit like a dog smelling a delicious treat.
He wasn’t sure why but he felt this strange feeling wash over him, could he confront you there? But why was he trying to confront you? In all honesty he wasn’t sure, he just knew that he was jealous and scared that he would become a nobody again.
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You and your friends spoke happily about the most random stuff, like who got who pregnant, followed by did you see this new show? The topics never truly stayed on one solid one unless the whole group had a deep connection to it.
So it didn’t surprise you that a party happening later that night was mentioned. “It’s a costume party?” You asked curiously and your friend chuckled and nudged you with her elbow. “Oh my god, like yeah. Obviously. It’s halloween.” Ashley giggled and the rest of them did too.
“That’s so lame.” You murmured, twirling your pencil around in your hand. “Like.. this is the start of a bad hallmark movie or something.” You said as your lips pulled up into a thin line.
Your friends shrugged and they obviously knew you would go anyways, you glanced around the library per usual. Something you did just as a random habit and you spotted someone looking at you.
You frowned a bit as you watched the guy look away and bury his face back in his book. How strange? “What a weirdo.” Your friend, Jill, spoke up and it startled you a bit. “Huh?” You turned back to her and she stared at the guy before looking back at you.
“Do you know him?” She asked and you shook your head no. “Yeah.. I thought so. He kept glancing over here and I thought it was all in my head.” Jill mumbled softly as if to keep it between the both of you. With a nod of agreement from you Jill joined back into the conversation.
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Leon on the other hand was burning red in embarrassment, you had looked right at him and made a face. Now he looked creepy. He should just leave the library now or something, anything! But he stayed glued to his seat, straining his ears to eavesdrop on your table.
After a while he watched you all get up and leave, he sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nice going, Kennedy. You’ve outdone yourself and now you look like a creep.” He muttered in annoyance.
He quickly packed his stuff up and exited the library, shooting his friends a quick text before heading towards his dorm. He needed a Halloween costume now.
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Halloween shopping didn’t take long for your group of friends. All of you got ready in Claire’s dorm because it was spacious and she was the one who got the best one because rumor had it her brother fucked one of the deans for special privileges and Claire used it as blackmail for herself.
Everyone in that dorm knew it was far from the truth, she was just a good student and because of that she got special treatment alongside Chris.
Ashley was busy doing her makeup when she looked over at you who was staring at the costume you had got. “You okay?” She asked and you turned around to look at her. It was obvious to everyone she would go as Harley Quinn. It suited her. Is what you thought before responding.
“I’m questioning if this is too much.” You responded and Jill perked up. “Definitely not. It’s actually beneficial because it’ll probably be super hot at that party so the less clothes the better.” She murmured mindlessly as she put on her realistic wig..
Ashley and Claire glanced over at Jill before bursting out in a fit of giggles. “This is why we keep Jill on a high pedestal. She’s like super smart and pretty. It’s a two for one.” Ashley grinned and you chuckled softly.
Claire slung her arm over your shoulder and tugged you close. “Besides you’ll be matching with me, and y’know if someone bothers you and you don’t want them Chris will stand up for us.” She pinched your cheek gently and you swatted her hand away with a whine.
“Fine, you have a point.” You relented with raised hands as if you surrender. Claire smiled and grabbed her costume to change into.
Ashley put her hair up into two pigtails and grabbed the spray of temporary hair dye. “So.. Luis is going to be there.” She beamed, and everyone in the room rolled their eyes. “Ashley, you are such a simp for him.” Claire huffed and you and Jill nodded in agreement.
“Okay well it’s not my fault okay! It’s gotta be his stupid accent.” Ashley grumbled softly, pouting as she did so. When she turned around after staring at the vanity mirror for so long she smiled seeing everyone in their costumes.
Jill is Tiffany Valentine from the Chucky franchise, Ashley is Harley Quinn from the DC franchise, Claire is Starfire, and you are Raven.
You purse your lips as you hold the cape up between your fingertips. “You know for the longest time I had no idea what she was saying.” You admitted and everyone but Jill agreed. “You didn’t watch it with subtitles?” She laughed and you shook your head no with a grin.
“I thought she was just speaking gibberish.” You said and it just made everyone laugh harder as they gathered their things to get ready to leave. “Yeah because they would make one of their main characters speak gibberish everytime she used her powers.” Claire teased and you turned red with embarrassment but also laughter as you all walked out the door.
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Leon on the other hand was pre gaming in his dorm room with his friends, Carlos, Chris, and Luis. “Dude you know how many hot chicks are going to be there?” Chris murmured as he slipped into a brown jacket, pulling gloves onto his hands while searching for his Jason Vorhees mask.
“I'm definitely scoring tonight.” Carlos said as he messed with his hair, a soft hum leaving his lips. Leon shrugged, not very interested in hooking up with anybody. He was more interested in trying to one up you.
Luis sat next to Leon on the couch and stared at him for a second. “¿Qué pasa, Sancho?” He asked, tilting his head at the blonde who seemed to be anxious. “Nothing. Just.. thinking. I guess.” He replied, rubbing his nape.
Luis cocked his eyebrow up and narrowed his eyes at Leon suspiciously. “Well, whatever it is. I’m here if you wanna talk.” He assured, placing his hand on Leon’s shoulder. Leon nodded and grabbed his Ghostface mask.
“Are we all ready?” Chris asked as Carlos was putting on his gloves with fake claws on them. He had the signature Freddy Krueger colors on while Luis had the iconic blue jumpsuit and Michael Myers mask. Once everyone was ready they set off to the party, Leon swallowed anxiously under his mask.
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The first thing you were met with when you entered the frat house was a mess, a mess of drunk and high people. You made a face at the smell of sweat and sex filling the air. Have some decorum people. You grimaced as you were dragged through the party.
Somehow ending up in the living room with everyone in your friend group. “They have coke! Oh my gosh, I’ve like totally wanted to try it.” Ashley beamed and grabbed you. “C’mon let’s all do a line, when’s the next time you’ll be offered coke or something. We’ll be all old with wrinkles.” Ashley whined, trying to convince Claire and Jill who sighed and reluctantly agreed.
“Okay but doesn’t this like burn?” You questioned.
“What? Like Molly?” Ashley raised her eyebrow.
“No—Like doesn’t it burn your nostrils?” You raised an eyebrow back at her.
Jill sighed and picked up a straw that was on the table along with random lines of coke on the glass surface while you and Ashley argued over something as tedious as whether it’ll go down smoothly.
Claire followed in pursuit of Jill and did a line too, squeezing her eyes shut as she sniffled. “Jeez, that shit is strong..” She muttered as she pinched her nostrils, Jill nodded heavily in agreement.
“I forgot you’re the fucking coke queen of America. That’s my bad.” You huffed softly.
Ashley rolled her eyes and went to reach for a straw for you only to see Claire and Jill holding them. “You guys did it without us!!” She complained and you just sighed.
“Ash, we can just do a line right now.” You murmured which seemed to calm her down enough to keep her tantrum at bay. She holds your hand and leans down in sync with you as you both snorted a line.
At the same time you both did, Leon and his goon squad arrived at the party and everyone started cheering. Garnering the attention of all of you kneeled at the table.
You wiped away the residue on your nose and sniffled, narrowing your eyes at Leon for a second as he put on his Ghostface mask and his face was hidden again. He looked.. familiar.
You tried to ponder where you saw him at, but you just shrugged it off. Whatever. Probably nowhere.
Jill glanced over at Chris a few times while Claire was eyeing Carlos. Ashley immediately bounced up and was about to scurry over to Luis. You grabbed onto her wrist before she could run off.
“Ashley! Are you seriously ditching us for Luis?” You stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction.
“What? Noo—I would definitely not. ‘M just being friendly. I’ll totally come back.” She replied in her usual manner, which gave away that she was lying. You reluctantly let her go and she scurried off.
You sighed heavily as you watched Claire and Jill give each other a knowing look. “You guys too?!” You groaned out and they gave you a sheepish smile. “We’ll come back, we have our phones on sound and we’ll all go home together.” Jill assured, placing her hand on your thigh.
“You guys hate me.” You frowned with a slight pout and Claire pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Pinky promise we’ll come back.” She whispered and you took her pinky in your own. “Okay. Promise.” You sighed out.
Then you watched Claire and Jill disappear, probably to go curl up with Chris and Carlos. You weren’t very amused, the only reason you came was to hang out with them but Leon and his stupid friends came and ruined it.
Whatever. Least you had some entertainment, the coke on the table and the promise of alcohol.
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Leon smirked as he entered the party, he knew he was hot shit. But that lingering fear that he would be some name in the past still brewed within him. Which is why he agreed to tag along. The only question was where were you?
He sauntered deeper into the party with his friends until one by one they were plucked away by girls he recognized from your friend group. He pursed his lips beneath his mask, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he glanced around.
It’s as if fate itself had its way of showing itself as you stumbled into the kitchen, not dressed in much. His eyes widened in surprise as you walked to the punch bowl that was probably spiked by now and got yourself a cup of juice.
He watched from the corner of his eye in awe as you licked the rim of the cup to clean the few drops of juice you got on the side of the cup. He gulped and chastised himself, no he wasn’t supposed to be staring at you like some lovesick maniac. He was trying to prove himself tonight.
He would plow through so much pussy tonight it would leave you behind in the dust. Or at least that’s what he hoped.
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As the night lingered on you got more wasted to forget about the fact you got ditched for some dick. You couldn’t say you were surprised and honestly you were contemplating getting laid. But there was something uneasy about tonight.
Every room you slowly made your way into you saw some guy in the Ghostface costume making out with some girl, borderline groping each other over their clothes. At first you thought it was different guys until you got a good look at the face of the man behind the mask twice to realize it was the same guy with different girls each time. Weirdo. Is all you thought but you were smart enough to remember some guys have a game to see who can get the most kisses, hook ups, blowjobs in one night.
Leon on one hand was shocked each time you walked past him like it was nothing, like you just didn’t care. He was sure he could fuck some girl in front of everyone and you wouldn’t pay them any mind. What the hell?
With a growl he was determined to get your attention somehow, it didn’t even register that he was doing all this for your attention. His body reacting on pure instinct as he broke away from the kiss with the girl. A brief apology as he excused himself. Chasing after you as you drunkenly stumbled back to the kitchen.
He stood at a distance watching you rummage through the fridge. “All my friends hate me, oh my god.” You mumbled under your breath as you found nothing to satisfy your hungry belly. A soft pout on your expression until some guy pressed up against you from behind.
You paused for a second before you stood up straight and turned around to see some random guy in a batman costume staring down at you. “Uhm, hello.” You say as he leans down to inspect your costume. “Oh okay. Just go on ahead—“
“Raven? From Teen Titans?” He asked as his eyes met your own again.
“Oh yeah, my friend and I dressed as Raven and Starfire.” You slurred a bit as he rubbed his thumb over your chin. “Oh—Hellooo.” You giggled as the guy placed his other hand on your hip.
“We’re from the same franchise. I think your costume looks really cool.. I’m Brandon” He uttered softly, leaning down to brush his lips against yours and you eagerly reciprocated, whispering your own name into the kiss. You had plans starting to form in your head to go back with this guy to his dorm and hook up with him.
Well, you did at least plan to leave with him. But no way in hell was Leon going to let that happen. He stormed over, his angry expression hidden behind the Ghostface mask, he cleared his throat and tugged you away from the guy.
He glanced between you and the guy in his stupid batman costume. When he realized what he had done he immediately lied on the spot, blurting the first name of your friend that came to mind. “Ashley! Erm—Ashley asked if you could come help her with something.”
You blinked a few times as you processed what was said, realizing that the guy behind the Ghostface costume must know Ashley, which didn’t surprise you. “Oh.”
You bit on your bottom lip and glanced at Brandon. “Sorry. My friend needs me.” You replied and latched onto Leon’s arm. “Lead the way.” You hiccuped.
Leon immediately walked off with you, feeling a sense of pride at the knowledge he ruined that moment for you. Yet when he looked down at your face you didn’t seem to mind, in fact you seemed more worried about your friend.
Leon guided you out the party, letting the fresh air overcome him and you. He didn’t realize how hot it was inside until he stepped outside with you.
“Wait. She left the party?” You stopped in your tracks and gently tugged on Leon’s arm.
“What?” He said, confusion laced in his tone before he remembered the lie he uttered. “Oh yeah—yeah. She uhm, left to go with him but she told him to tell me you needed her.”
You didn’t seem to question him any further, which was a relief for him because he wasn’t sure how much more he could lie as he guided you back to the dorms. More specifically his.
What the fuck am I doing?
Why did I care so much that she was going to kiss some random dude?
Why am I taking her back to my dorm?
I should’ve been on my fourth hook up tonight and yet I haven’t touched any naked body yet.
Leon’s mind raced as he unlocked the door and guided you inside, closing the door behind him and locking it as you called out for Ashley.
“Ashley! Ugh I swear if it’s not something important and you made me miss out on the opportunity to get laid I’m gonna murder you!” You groaned out as you stumbled in your platformed boots; which in theory are horrible to wear while being wasted.
Leon pulled his mask off and tossed it onto his couch, wiping the sweat from his brow before he followed after you, grabbing hold of your wrist to turn you around towards him gently.
“Ew your hands are like.. gross and sweaty.” You made a face of disgust and his nose scrunched up in annoyance.
“Okay that’s a bit rude.” He huffed and looked at you, he would finally be able to see you for you at this moment. It suddenly hit him.
You’re not competition, obviously not if you’re not bragging about your hook up to him, rather your friend who definitely isn’t here.
Hell, you’re just a girl. A girl who he’s jealous of for no reason.
A girl who’s.. really fucking pretty?
His eyes widened as he came to the realization that it wasn’t anger at being replaced, it wasn’t jealousy of hearing your name being uttered time and time again instead of his.
No, that's stupid. I’ll see if she’s really as good as everyone says she is. He was determined to see what was so special about you.
Your nose scrunched up as if mimicking his own expression as you could see different emotions ran across his face. “Uhm hello?—“ You went to wave your hand in front of his eyes when he tightened his grip on you and pulled you in for a kiss with force. Such force that you stumbled.
A quick lie running out of his mouth smoothly as he cupped your face in his hands. “I lied, Ashley didn’t call you here.. I just have such a big crush on you and didn’t know how to express it.” He breathed out as your tongue ran over his bottom lip.
You, to his surprise, didn’t fight back or protest the kiss. You seemed to encourage it more than anything.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s kinda sly of you..” You remarked as you pulled back from the kiss, your lipstick smeared on his soft plump ones. You brought your thumb up to his bottom lip and wiped away as much as you could.
“So what’s your name you big stud.” You teased in a drunken tone, Leon bit his bottom lip and ducked down to capture your lips again. “Leon.” He muttered into the kiss, slowly guiding you to his room with careful steps.
He could tell you were getting tired of how slow he was moving so he patted your thigh to encourage you to hop up. Once you did he grabbed the back of your legs and held you firmly against him, your lips not parting from his own as he stumbled into his bedroom.
He dropped you down onto the bed and finally pulled away. “I have to turn on the lamp..” He mumbled quietly as he reached off to the side to flick the light on. The moonlight helped to illuminate the parts of the room the light didn’t reach fully.
When he looked down at you he felt his heart rate increase. “Fuck.” He cursed and you just smiled at the sight above you.
You reached your hand up to move his hair out of his face. “What? Think I’m pretty or something?” You asked and he nodded, a soft giggle leaving your precious lips.
So precious. He thought as he pressed his left palm above your head against the bed while his other hand came up to cup and fondle your breast above your costume.
You managed to kick your boots off somehow, leaning back against the bed comfortably. “Well that’s sweet of you. I think you’re quite handsome.” You replied as your hair laid spread out behind you.
Leon hesitated for a second, what does he do now? He’s been hooking up with people for awhile now and for once in his life he’s stunned on what to do next. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a soft moan as you drag his hand up to your mouth to suck on his thumb.
“Hah.. you’re good at that hm?” He cooed, pressing his thumb down against your tongue. With a soft hum from you he adjusted the way he was hovering above you so he could use both hands instead of one.
He dragged his left hand down your torso right down to your pussy, he could feel the heat radiating off of such an intimate part of you. This made his cock throb with want as he pushed the crotch of your costume to the side.
“I guess this costume is pretty much easy access..” He spoke his inner thoughts aloud, watching you blush beneath his watchful gaze before his fingertip brushed against your clit.
You mewled softly and brought your hands up to paw at his chest, wanting his costume off but he clicked his tongue. “Patience. Good things come to those who wait.” He scolded you lightly and gave you a shit eating grin as you frowned.
“You’re like a delicacy.” He explained, rubbing his middle and ring finger through your folds before prodding them against your hole. “You must be handled with care.” He punctuated his words by shoving his fingers inside of you.
You gasped and your back arched off the bed a little. “O-Oh fuck. That feels good.. your fingers are so thick.” You whimpered around his thumb, he snickered softly and pulled his thumb away from your mouth, pressing the wet digit against your clit to rub hard and fast circles against the sensitive little bud while his other hand moved in tandem by fucking his fingers in and out of you.
A slick squelching sound resounding through the room followed by lewd moans coming from you. Who would’ve thought having sex while being high on coke made everything feel ten times better?
“Leon.” You whined softly as your walls clenched down tightly around his fingers. “You’re g’nna make me cum..”
Leon just shrugged and leaned down to nip at your neck. “And? That’s what you want, right baby?” He whispered directly in your ear, sucking on your earlobe. He let out a low chuckle as you cried out a soft yes.
He doubled down on his efforts and you swore you saw stars, definitely. You squealed softly as your orgasm crashed down onto your body like a truck, your cheeks and the tips of your ears turning red and hot with arousal.
“There’s we go. That’s my girl.” He lapped at the pulse point on your neck as you settled down from your high, he took the opportunity to strip himself of his clothes but not before getting a taste of what he was going to be indulging in.
He brought his fingers up to his mouth and swirled his tongue around his own digits, sighing softly as he tasted the sweet essence that he had coaxed out of you.
“God. That shits perfect.” Leon bit his bottom lip as he began to remove his clothes, eyeing you hungrily as his cock sprung up into view.
You mumbled something before sitting up on your elbows, your mouth almost instantly watering at the sight of his dick. “Woah.” You blinked a few times before reaching out to touch.
Accidentally grabbing it too hard made Leon hiss in pleasure. “God damn. Easy baby.” He groaned out, and you winced out a soft apology, letting him guide your hand to be the perfect pressure and pace for him to get off on.
“Wait..” You said suddenly which made Leon pause, staring down at you questioningly. “Can you get your uh.. the mask.” You asked coyly, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger slyly as it registered what you wanted in his head.
“Sure thing.” He chuckled and patted your cheek, disappearing for a second before returning with the mask on his head. You grinned wickedly as he stood near the edge of his bed.
“How do I look—“ He was cut off by you yanking him down onto the bed, straddling him as you smirked. “I’m gonna absolutely ravish you.” You sighed out softly, having already removed your clothes when he stepped out the room.
Leon was quite stunned at the 360 shift in attitude. You were just crying on his fingers a few seconds ago and now you’re practically pinning him down. He placed his hands on your thighs, gently rubbing his thumbs against your soft skin.
“Yeah? What if I want to ravish you?” He retorted and you leaned down to press your bare chest against his own, “You could try.” You slurred quietly, but as the hours went on the more you slightly sobered up.
“Guess I’ll have to try super hard then.” He whispered softly as he grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip of it through your folds with a soft hum. You bit your bottom lip as you eventually sank down on him, the two releasing a soft moan in sync with each other.
It didn’t take long for Leon to start bouncing you on his cock as you rode him with an eager pace, it seems the mask was doing things for you that you yourself weren’t even aware would do.
The wet sounds between the two resounding through the room as skin on skin slapping against each other blended into the mix. “Fuck, you’re so tight.. ‘n wet.. ‘n warm.” He whined, fingers digging into your plush thighs as he bucked his hips up into you.
You nodded in acknowledgment. Your eyes fluttered shut as you could feel that coil in your gut tightening with each thrust and bounce. You knew you were close and so did Leon. “I’m almost there.” He panted out, gulping beneath the mask which was starting to prove to be extremely hot. He was sure he had sweat all over his face and head, if he was to remove the mask he was 99% sure that his hair would be thoroughly damp.
Yet if he could get girls to ride him as crazy and as good as you do he would wear it for every hookup encounter he ever had.
You reached your hands up to start punching and twisting your nipples, fondling your tits to tease him. He grunted loudly as he watched you with bated breath. “Fuck, keep playing with yourself like that. Touch that pretty little clit of yours too.” He gritted out as you did so, causing your walls to clamp down tightly around his cock.
Your jaw dropped as his cock brushed against that spongy spot inside of you that never failed to give you chills. “I-I can’t hold it..” You cried out, hand still moving quickly against your clit. Leon could see your chest rising and falling quickly and he was just a few seconds away from spilling his own seed.
“I know. W-Where do you want it?” He uttered aloud, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back against his bed. “Mm. Inside, please.” You whined, bucking your hips eagerly.
Leon's eyes shot open and his head shot up to stare at you. “Fuck.. that’s so hot. Are you sure?” He was a bit nervous and didn’t want to cum inside of you if you weren’t 100% sure.
With an eager nod you spoke once more. “Yes! God, please! Inside of me, Leon.” You insisted, throwing your head back in pleasure as he thrusted a couple more times before pulling your hips flush against his own, he came before you did and it only took a few quick rubs from you before your orgasm hit you once more.
You practically collapsed on top of him with a heavy breath, resting your head on his chest as he moved his hands up to pull the mask off, finally being free of the sweaty contraption. He wrapped both his arms around you as his cock started to soften within your warm wet walls.
Fuck. He had to admit that the people were right about you being a good fuck.
Especially when you looked up at him with that soft smile but your eyes told a different story as you wiggled your hips a bit, it’s as if he didn’t even start to soften to begin with as he was fully hard within seconds.
Guess he was in for a long night, just as long as you don’t hear the incessant buzzing coming from your phone that was discarded on his nightstand haphazardly from your friends.
This, to me, is so heavily HEAVILY Death Island Leon. You plan to study with your best friend, but only her dad is home. She ditched you for her boyfriend. So now you’re stuck awkwardly making small talk with Leon Kennedy, who’s recently divorced.
Next thing you know Leon’s got you in his lap. Then on your back. Then on your stomach as he fucks you into the mattress <3
And oh my god it’s so raw but sweet. He’s plowing into you, groping your tits and kissing you. Telling you how sweet you sound. And he’s condescending as you whine, muttering ‘I know baby, I know it’s big but you can take it.’ against your lips. It’s all praise and reassurance but also so fucking hot AHHHHHHHHHH GO LISTEN TO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
tags - MDNI, not proofread, porn with plot (kinda?), BDSM, cock cages, leg humping, collars, leashes, marking, begging, overstimulation, submissive re6 leon kennedy, whimpery and needy leon kennedy, masochism, cock tease, p in v, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, multiple orgasms, light cock stepping, dom/sub
Leon is one of a select few of the highest ranked agents in the newly-established Division of Security Operations. Through his heroic feats and courageous exploits into BOW-infested locations, he’s rightfully earned the respect of peers and politicians alike. He’s the president’s formidable sword, an icon that rookies look up to but little do they know who and how he really is behind closed doors. It’s assumed that he’s in charge at home as it is at work but it couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Leon is one of a select few of the highest ranked agents in the newly-established Division of Security Operations. Through his heroic feats and courageous exploits into BOW-infested locations, he’s rightfully earned the respect of peers and politicians alike. He’s the president’s formidable sword, an icon that rookies look up to but little do they know who and how he really is behind closed doors.
Everyone that knows him is also aware of you as his wife, a framed image of you kept in his work desk. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you up in conversations, either to shower you with praises and adoration or to use you as an excuse for missing out on after-work drinks in town. Leon wasn’t one to shy away from showing everyone that you’re his, always keeping a hand around your waist when you walk together outside or running his fingers up and down your spine when standing in line for something. It’s assumed that he’s in charge at home as it is at work but it couldn’t be farther from the truth as he’s currently naked on the floor of your dim bedroom, sensitive and desperate to cum; your foot is pressed firmly against his caged cock, the poor thing straining against its metal confines. His hands are behind his back, his fingernails digging into his palms to stop himself from grabbing on to your leg and humping his poor cock.
“Such a good boy for keeping this on for 2 weeks,” you coo as you dig your heel into his aching balls. You’re like a goddess as you lean down and sneer at him, cackling at the delicious torture you’ve put him in.
“T-Thank you, mistress…” He still has it in him to be polite, such a cute puppy.
You press down harder, knowing Leon loves it most when the line between pain and pleasure blurs. He whines and whimpers, shivering underneath your foot; his confined cock kicks beneath the sole of your foot, the reddened tip drooling more precum. Satisfied with the display of submission he’s been putting on for you so far, you take your foot off and set him free.
“You’re my good puppy, aren’t you Leon?” You ask whilst petting him, ruffling bedraggled blond strands even more.
“Y-Yes,” he breathily responds.
You move your hand to cup his face, a thumb stroking his pink cheeks. He nuzzles into the warmth of your touch, eyes closed as he soaks up the gentleness you’re showing to him as a sign that he trusts you with whatever you wish to do with him.
“Then hump my leg,” you command. “And don’t stop until you’ve cum two times.” You punctuate your words with a tug to his hair, eliciting a whorish moan from a mess of the man beneath you.
“Ma’am yes ma’am.”
Wasting no time, he clung to your leg and began madly thrusting. He expected to last a little longer but his sensitive cock barely lasted for more than 20 seconds, his milky essence painting your skin in a goop of white.
“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he whines through the overstimulation. His hips stutter though that does not stop him from his frenzy.
“It’s okay baby, you were always a pathetic mutt anyway.”
This time, he manages to make it past a minute before shooting his second load. He leans against your leg, catching breath but you know he’s far from tapping out– his cock’s still hard.
“Can I please be inside you now, mistress? Please?” he asked so sweetly, looking up at you with glossy eyes and pouty lips. “I’ve– I’ve been good, haven’t I…?”
You already know the answer to his plea but you pretend to think for a moment, keeping him on his toes.
“Go crawl to your collar.”
If he was a mutt, his tail would’ve been wagging madly as he crawled on all fours to the black leather collar laid at his bedside table.
The accessory fit snugly around his neck, perfectly suiting your submissive husband. You settled in bed, slowly inching back to the headboard whilst tugging on the leash as Leon crawled up to you. Besides the lust-induced haze evident in his stormy blue eyes is adoration and unquestionable love; he’d die for you– kill even, if worse comes to worst. He’s loyal to a fault for his darling wife, that’s no question; if she commands him to jump, he’d ask how high. Sure, you terrify him sometimes especially when you’re pissed off, but that’s fuel to the fire you set in his loins– he’s got a penchant for intimidating women.
“You know what to do next, pup.” You command, emphasizing your words with another strong tug.
He doesn’t need to be told twice, parting your legs wider to make space for himself as he settles in between. Leon dives tongue-first into your sopping heat, lapping up your juices at a mad pace; his feverish tongue is a temperature contrast to the cold air of the room, making you all the more sensitive. His stubble adds a prickly sensation as he moves to press wet kisses at your clit before giving a particularly harsh suck.
“Fuck, Leon. J-Just like that,” you encourage him. “You feel so good…”
You push his head closer to yourself, muffling a needy whine from him. As he nipped and licked, his whimpers grew louder and much needier. He wanted to see you come undone, locking eyes with you as he humped his terribly hard cock against the mattress for stimulation while he sucked.
“Holy shit,” you breathed as you gripped his blond tresses harder and rocked his face against your pussy. “S-shit, baby– I’m going to cum–”
Your words only spurred him on, getting his face even more soaked and glistening with your essence. As you reached your high, he dug his nails into your thighs as he licked and drank every single drop you had to offer to him. Your husband twitched and whined, reaching a release of his own as his sensitive cock dribbled out pathetic spurts, it’s a miracle that he’s still able to cum.
“Let me fuck you mistress,” Leon begs as he kneels, trembling hands resting on his thighs. “Please, it hurts so bad… wanna cum again…”
He glances down at his cock twitching against his abdomen, a steady flow of pre flowing down the shaft. The sight is nothing short of sinful, promiscuous even; his hair is rumpled, face glossy with your cum with his pink lips curved into a pout as he caresses his hard cock, cupping his balls.
“You’ve been such a good pup for me,” you drawl. Still attached to your leash, he stumbles forward when you pull on it. “So I guess you can fuck me good, puppy.”
Crazed by the idea of finally being able to shoot his load deep inside you, he pulls you closer by your knee and lines himself up at your entrance with trembling hands.
“Make it fast or else I’ll change my mind,” you complain.
“Yes, master.”
He notches his spongy cockhead at the entrance, slowly pushing in until you locked your legs around him and made him go all the way in.
“Ngh–! Sweetheart, w-wait…” he whimpers as he needily clutches at your hips to calm himself down. He’s so sensitive, he’s sure that he isn’t going to hold on for much. “Might cum fast, don’t wanna…”
Leon’s words die at his throat, replaced by a high-pitched whimper, as he feels your walls tighten around him. Driven by uncontrolled lust and the need to cum deep inside you, he hovers above your body and starts plowing deep; each thrust is punctuated with a squelch and thud of the headboard against the wall, finally accompanied by your moans and his crazed whimpers.
“You’re so good to me, Leon– shit– this cock’s all mine,” you breathily whisper to him.
“Y-Yours,” he stutters. “All yours– ah!”
You press kisses to his Adam's apple that trails to the side of his neck until the sweet spot behind his ear, nipping at his ear lobe. Letting your possessive side out, you bite and mark up the pale skin of his neck with reds and purples before soothing the spots with your moist tongue.
“Baby, I can’t– I– shit–! I’m going to cum, gonna cum,” he rambles as tears stream down his cheeks. “Ngh–! Ah…–”
He’s only able to give 2 more thrusts before his hips stutter and twitch, pulling you closer to himself as warm ropes of his sticky release paint your walls. He holds you tight, keeping his cock inside you despite the overstimulation that borders on pain.
“Did you cum, sweetheart?” he asks while he catches his breath.
“No,” you hiss. Despite his embarrassment, blood fills his cock and he’s sporting another hard-on in no time.
NOTE - i'm not seeing a lot of submissive leon fics, especially older leon, in here or on ao3 so i decided to waste my time writing this to satiate the 5 thirsty people in need of seeing leon get slutted out. i was supposed to post this on my birthday like 3 days ago but i was too damn busy and tired so yeah -_- i'm not rlly having any ideas for fluff on the main blog so i'm going to breathe some life in here for now :3 also, i found this game called 'The Wolf Among Us' earlier and it's honestly so interesting!! like the story and the adult spin on fairytales is a cool concept and i'm hooked (started watching a playthrough from 11 years ago...). anyway, that's it and thank you for reading my fics!! this is also up on ao3 under the same title <3
☆ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?
☆ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!
It doesn’t start with blood. Not yet.
Leon first notices you during one of his brief returns to the States. A quiet afternoon at some government building—you’re not even special. Not supposed to be. Just someone who works at the same place, maybe typing up field reports he never reads, passing him in the halls with your head down, apologizing too softly when your shoulder bumps his. You smell like vanilla and cheap drugstore shampoo. You hold a coffee cup like it’s the only thing anchoring you to Earth.
And that should’ve been it. He should’ve walked past you, like he does with everyone else.
But he didn’t.
Because you looked at him. Just once.
And you smiled.
Not some flirty thing. Not a “he’s hot” look. No—you looked at him like he was human. Like he wasn’t just a body with scars walking around on borrowed time.
Like maybe someone could love him, even if he didn’t think he deserved it.
From that moment on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.
At first it’s just your voice, your laugh, the way you never quite make eye contact unless someone makes you. The way you get flustered when people praise your work. How you always check twice that the microwave is actually off. How you twirl your pen when you’re thinking. He stores every detail. Files it away like evidence.
He learns your routines without meaning to. What time you clock in. Where you park. Which vending machine you like. What your grocery bags look like when you get off work.
And then he means to. He means to watch you. To learn you.
Because he needs to keep you safe. That’s what he tells himself. That’s always how it starts.
When he follows you home for the first time, it’s just to make sure no one’s tailing you. He tells himself that while he sits in his car across the street for two hours, watching your windows. Watching the light in your bedroom flicker. Watching your silhouette move. Watching your shadow get undressed.
He doesn’t touch himself.
He doesn’t need to.
He’s loyal. Monogamous. Faithful to a woman who doesn’t even know he’s hers.
And he is yours. In every sense. Every beat of his heart belongs to you. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know it.
You start finding little things. A better brand of coffee in the breakroom. Your broken office chair suddenly replaced. Your car tire mysteriously fixed when you were sure it was flat the night before. Your favorite sandwich waiting for you in the fridge with no name on it—but no one claims it when you eat it.
You don’t know it’s him.
You don’t know how much it calms him to do these things. How he holds your half-drunk coffee cup in his gloved hand like it's sacred, just to feel the warmth of where your lips once were. How he saves the wrapper of the gum you chewed, tucks it into his jacket pocket like a photograph.
It gets worse when he’s away.
When he’s knee-deep in rot and guts and monsters again, he hears your voice in his head. He reads your emails over and over, even if they’re not for him. He dreams about you begging him to come home, even though you don’t know he’s gone.
He kills faster for you. Survives harder.
Because you’re waiting. Even if you don’t know it.
And when he returns, looking tired and bruised, and you say something stupid like, “Rough day?”
He almost breaks.
Because you care. Even if it’s shallow, even if it’s nothing—it is something to him.
And it feeds that thing growing inside his chest. The thing with claws and fangs and your name burned into it.
He never means to cross the line.
But it happens. Of course it happens. All it takes is you crying one day. Quietly. In a hallway. And Leon finds you. Touches your shoulder. Offers you a handkerchief and silence. Just his presence.
You tell him your boyfriend broke up with you. You say it with a cracked voice, eyes on the ground.
Leon wants to gut the guy like a pig.
But instead, he hugs you.
He holds you like a man on fire.
And that’s when it truly breaks. Something in him. Something fundamental.
You’re his now.
After that, the jealousy gets sickening. He hates everyone who makes you laugh. Everyone who gets too close. Even friends. He wants to peel their eyes out. Crush their hands. Sometimes, he fantasizes about dragging you somewhere far away. Quiet. Safe. Just the two of you.
He wouldn’t hurt you. Never.
But he would chain you up if he had to.
Not to punish you. Never to punish.
To protect. To keep you safe from the world that breaks things. The way it broke him.
He watches you sleep more often than you’ll ever know. Sometimes in person. Sometimes through your webcam.
He buys you things you never ask for. Gifts that show up without a note. Perfume you once mentioned liking. A necklace that matches your birthstone.
Once, you come home to find your entire apartment cleaned. Nothing stolen. Just… cleaner. Neater. Lovingly touched.
You start to get scared.
But Leon doesn’t stop.
He can’t. He loves you. And love, to him, is everything. It's obsession, devotion, sickness, god. It's a bullet in the chamber with your name on it.
And if anyone ever hurts you—
They don’t live long enough to do it again.
You are the last light in his world of rot and smoke.
He would burn the planet to keep you warm.
And he will always be watching.
Just in case you forget that you’re his.
Forever.
There’s something desperate in the way Leon touches your name now. He types it into search bars like a prayer, like maybe the internet can tell him what you’re thinking. Where you are. Who you’re with. The idea of another man holding you, kissing you, looking at you the way Leon does—it makes his stomach twist. Makes his jaw clench.
You belong to him.
But it’s getting harder to pretend.
You’ve been acting different.
You’ve started locking your doors. Pulling your curtains shut. Changing your passwords.
He can feel you slipping. Slipping through his fingers like water.
And Leon—Leon doesn’t lose. Not people. Not you.
So he gets closer.
He takes a few vacation days and spends them camped outside your building in an unmarked car. It's not even that weird—he's done worse surveillance missions overseas. But this time it’s not a mission. This time it's personal.
He watches you go about your day like normal. Grocery run. Phone calls. Work. That little routine you built for yourself like a cage. You think it keeps the world out.
It doesn't.
Because he’s already in.
When he follows you on foot for the first time, it’s just to make sure you’re safe walking home. That’s what he tells himself.
But when your scarf slips off your shoulders and drops to the sidewalk, he picks it up like it’s something holy. Holds it to his face. Breaths it in.
You smell like vanilla. You smell like roses.
That night, he wraps your scarf around his knuckles like a bandage. Falls asleep clutching it. Dreams of you. Dreams of you soft and crying in his arms, telling him you love him, whispering you need him, “Don’t leave, Leon—please.”
He wakes up with his pillow wet from tears.
You start dating again.
Some guy from your friend group. You talk about him casually, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not a knife twisting in Leon’s gut every time your lips form his name.
Leon smiles when you tell him.
Tells you he’s happy for you.
But inside?
He’s already planning the guy’s funeral.
He follows him. Watches how he talks to you. How he touches you. How he doesn’t deserve you.
He thinks about how easy it would be to make it look like an accident. A mugging. A hit-and-run. Hell, Leon could make it clean. Professional. No trace.
But… no. Not yet.
Because you’re still looking over your shoulder. Still flinching at shadows. Still scared of the silence in your apartment.
You’ve noticed him.
You just don’t know it’s him yet.
So he waits. Watches. Smolders.
And then the guy hits you.
Not hard. Just a shove during an argument. You don’t report it. You don’t even tell Leon. You just show up to work with a shaky smile and red-rimmed eyes and act like everything is fine.
It’s not.
It never will be again.
Because Leon sees it.
And that night, the guy disappears.
You never hear from him again.
The cops never figure it out. You try to act like it’s not weird. Like he just left you. Like maybe it was your fault. Like you drove him away.
Leon lets you believe that.
He visits your place two nights later. Not as a stalker this time. Not hiding. No gloves. No mask.
He knocks on your door like it’s normal. Like he’s just your friend, checking in. Just Leon. Tired, sweet Leon. Blue eyes, tired smile.
He tells you he heard what happened. Says he wanted to make sure you’re okay.
And you let him in.
Because he looks at you with concern. Because he smells like gunpowder and leather and that shampoo he always uses. Because his voice shakes when he says your name.
Because deep down, you’re starting to feel safe with him.
Even though you know something's wrong.
He sits on your couch. You make tea. You talk.
And then—your hand brushes his when you hand him the cup.
And something shifts.
He leans in, too close. His breath is warm on your cheek.
He whispers, "I'll never let anyone hurt you again."
You don’t know what to say. You laugh awkwardly, try to change the subject. But he doesn’t move.
His hand catches yours.
His voice is hoarse. "You don’t have to be scared anymore."
You freeze.
And that’s when you know.
That’s when it hits you. The late-night creaks in the hallway. The lost scarf. The replaced groceries. The way your passwords kept resetting. The ghost of a man always watching.
You try to pull back. You try to make it seem casual.
But Leon is already smiling.
That same, tired smile he always gives you. That smile that hides too much.
“I’ve been here the whole time,” he says. “You just didn’t see me.”
You realize you’re alone in your apartment.
You realize he locked the door when he came in.
You realize you’re not leaving tonight.
And yet…
You don’t scream.
You don’t run.
Because his eyes are wide and glassy, like he might shatter if you do.
He doesn’t hurt you.
No.
He just sits there. Holding your hand. Eyes closed.
Like a dying man praying to a god that finally touched him back.
You should have kicked him out.
You should have screamed, called someone, fought.
But instead… you let him stay.
You don’t even ask why he’s here. Why he’s saying these things. Why the man you trusted is looking at you like he’s not just in love, but drowning in it. Suffocating in you.
You stare at him, hand still in his, and all you can think is:
He’s beautiful.
Not handsome. Not cute.
Beautiful.
His cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.
His lashes thick and black against that glassy blue.
His lips—soft, parted, like he’s waiting for permission to breathe you in.
And maybe it’s something about the look in his eyes—like he’s never been held right, never been kissed gently, never been told yes, I see you—that makes you hesitate.
Because maybe you’re a little fucked in the head too.
Maybe all those long nights of silence and unease did something to you.
Maybe you liked being watched. Liked the invisible eyes. The feeling of being wanted that much.
It made you feel safe. Precious. Loved.
You lean back against the couch, still watching him. Still trying to understand why you’re not afraid.
Your voice is soft.
“…How long?”
His eyes flutter shut like a prayer.
“Since the first time we meet.”
You let the silence stretch, heavy and strange.
His thumb moves across the back of your hand—slow, reverent. Almost worshipful.
Your lips twitch. You don’t know if it’s a smirk or a tremble.
“And you thought stalking me was the best way to deal with that?”
He doesn’t flinch.
“I didn’t want to scare you.”
You laugh.
A dry, bitter sound. “You broke into my apartment.”
Leon tilts his head, blue eyes wide and childlike. “But I never took anything.”
A beat.
“Except your scarf. But that’s different. It smelled like you.”
He says it so seriously. So softly.
You study him. Really look at him.
Not just the sharp suit or the clean cut hair. Not the tired lines around his eyes or the faint stubble on his jaw.
But the damage under it. The cracks. The haunted corners of a man who’s killed too much, lost too much, lived through hell and came out with bleeding hands and a single need:
You.
And here he is. On your couch. Holding your hand like he might unravel if you pull away.
And god help you, but you feel something twist in your chest.
Not fear.
Possession.
Because if you’re the only one he sees—if you’re the reason he’s still breathing after all this time—then maybe it’s okay.
Maybe he deserves you. Maybe he’s earned the right to want this bad.
Maybe you want him just as bad too.
So you lean in, slow. Testing.
He stills. Like prey. Like something caught and trembling.
He’s bigger than you, stronger than you, but somehow in that moment, he looks breakable.
Your mouth brushes his ear.
“You ever touch me without permission again,” you whisper, “and I’ll gut you.”
His breath shudders out. “Okay.”
You pull back, searching his face. His pupils are blown wide. His lips are slightly parted.
“…But if you ask,” you murmur, “maybe I’ll say yes.”
And that—that—breaks him.
He kisses you like a starving man, like he’s dreamed of this so many nights he’s memorized the shape of your lips. His hands tremble as they touch your face, your jaw, your hair.
Like you’re something holy.
He doesn’t push for more. Doesn’t undress you.
Just clings to you like he’ll stop breathing if he doesn’t. Like he’s finally home.
And you let him.
Because maybe you’re both broken.
Maybe you like the way his love curves around you like armor. Maybe you like the idea of a man who would burn the world to keep you safe.
Maybe you like how it feels to be the center of someone’s universe.
Maybe you’re tired of being lonely.
That night, you fall asleep tangled together on the couch.
And when you wake up, your front door’s already unlocked. Your windows are cracked open. Your passwords are reset. There’s a knife under your pillow.
I am so fucking tired of rape fics. I am a sexual assault survivor and you sexulise rape. why. why do I work so hard to get better and it all get ruined by some horny asshole just like last time. THESE CHARATERS DONT WANT TO RAPE YOU. rape is horrible, its NOT sexy. its traumatizing. why do you keep talking about it and writing about it. STOP MINIMIZING MY PAIN WITH YOUR DERANGED FANTASIES.
Simon Riley isnt a rapist
Leon Kennedy isnt a rapist
and belive it or not Jonathan Crane ISNT A FUCKING RAPIST
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theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
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origamiaround
pixelskylines
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izzy806
