Cookies and Cream
Lactating Neighbor!Leon x Neighbor!Reader Smut and Fluff 💛
❌18+ MDNI❌
Leon Kennedy, top special agent, killer of zombies and lover of dad jokes, has found himself in a peculiar situation when an incident at wok leaves him strangely affected... What can a man do when faced by the hurdles of lactation, if not accept the kind help of a dear neighbor?
this is the fastest smut i've ever written, i did last night when i was literally possessed by my thirst for this man's tits after @theebladestar and i brainstormed about the matter like two sick little freaks 🤓 also PLEASE go check out their lactation smut they just posted for some yummy re9 goodness. thanks again my friend for proofreading and supporting me through my degenerate endeavors 🧡💛
word count: 4k
cw: nsfw, smut, fluff, fem!reader, leon pov, male lactation, nipple play, breast play, milk drinking, handjob, spanking, thigh riding.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This can't be happening.
This can't be fucking happening.
Leon looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his shirtless form trembling before his eyes. His lean body looks perfectly normal as usual, except for one glaring difference: his chest.
Tender to the touch, his pectorals are puffy, with a slight blush and peaked nipples. But what makes the sight truly horrifying to his eyes, are the beads of milk that form on the tips each time he squeezes the skin around his areolas.
“What the fuck…” he mutters to himself, eyes blown wide in shock.
Of course, he’s not completely clueless as to why he's suddenly lactating. As a BOW fighting agent, he encounters many weird events during his missions, and is many times exposed to viruses and parasites himself.
Some are more dangerous than others, and though so far he has managed to make it out alive thanks to vaccines and various treatments, it doesn't mean that getting infected isn't absolutely scary.
Today, however, he was somehow infected by a hormonal treatment when his body collided with a shelf of multicolored chemicals in various tubes, their contents spilling on him mid enemy fight.
Hunnigan assured him later that it’s a hormonal component given to female test subjects to encourage fertility, and that on males it ‘only results in short lived minor side effects.’ Nothing to worry about. Just some muscle soreness and perhaps a headache.
Oh, and apparently milk producing tits too.
He groans in frustration as he squeezes his left breast again, more white liquid beading before it trickles down his fingers. The feeling in his chest is unlike anything he’s experienced before. It truly feels ‘full’ like how women describe during breastfeeding, and there's a tenderness to his pecs that makes him want to empty them for relief.
Leon tries to do just that, leaning over the sink as he kneads and gropes the soft, sore flesh. But no matter how many trickles of milk splatter on the porcelain and go down the drain, the relief he seeks remains just of reach. He realizes that's what babies are probably for, but the thought of an infant feeding on him fills him with nausea so bad he nearly gags.
Suddenly, it all feels off putting, and knowing he won't be able to do much about his situation except suffer in silence, he decides to put his shirt back on and leave the bathroom.
He can do this. He can push through it. It’s temporary, and will only last a day or two, maybe three if he's truly unlucky. As long as he keeps himself busy, he’ll be fine.
Two hours later, he’s splayed on the couch with his shirt off, a pillow pressed to his face as he grunts into it for what feels like 57th time.
He is not fucking fine. This is pure agony, and Google said he’s at risk of developing mastitis if he can't get the damn milk out. But damn it, every attempt at squeezing only creates a mess and does little to actually get it flowing.
When desperation settles in his bones, the soreness becoming unbearable, he debates calling Hunnigan to send medics, reinforcements, a fucking breast pump. Anything to stop this madness.
But before he can reach for his phone, a knock at the front door calls for his attention. He stands with a heaving breath, grabbing his shirt to put it on again, then peers through the peephole without making a sound. He’s not opening if it's not something important.
And shit, it is important. It’s you, his lovely neighbor.
Ever since you moved into the apartment next to his a few months ago, Leon has had the most serious case of a crush he’s had in a while. On the daily, he tries to find any excuse to talk to you. Helping you carry groceries, bringing your mail and packages to your door, and even offering to walk your dog if you're ever busy.
It's ridiculous, really, when he is the busiest person ever. And yet, when it comes to you, he always makes time. Which is why you never hesitate to knock on his door to bring him treats and desserts, or ask for a small favor, because he always, always answers the door for you.
How the fuck is he supposed to do that now?
Another knock and his heart stutters. Shit, you're waiting for him, and you probably think he’s being rude, or worse, that he's ignoring you. He would never do such a thing. He likes you—a lot—and he’s been trying to muster the courage to finally ask you out on a proper date for weeks.
If he doesn't answer, he risks blowing it all over. He knows you know he's home—his car is parked downstairs and you saw him from your balcony come back from HQ after his tiresome mission. You even smiled and waved, because of course you did—you're the absolute sweetest.
One more knock, and he can't keep the door shut no matter his embarrassment. He just has to let you in so as not to disappoint you. God, he’s completely whipped.
“Hey, s-sorry, didn't, um, didn't hear you knocking,” he stammers like an idiot once he pulls the handle.
“Oh, no worries! I just thought I’d bring you something…” you smile shyly, holding out a plate covered by a checkered napkin. Lifting it to reveal the treat you've made, your eyes meet his with kind ones. “I saw you come in and you looked a little tired, so I made you cookies... I know you said you liked these last time, so, uh, yeah.”
Lord. He could kiss you.
“Thank you, you didn't have to.” He grabs the plate from your grasp, the brush of your fingers sending an electric zap through his body. “They smell so good.”
“Yeah, I just pulled them out of the oven! I also added more walnuts this time since you li—” You cut yourself off mid sentence, choking on a gasp as you fixate intently on his chest.
Leon feels his heart lurch, and when he looks down, he immediately understands the reason for your reaction when he sees two wet spots, positioned at each nipple, slowly getting larger and larger. He’s certain his face must have gone completely red.
“Is that…” you start, but you clearly don't even know what question to ask. “Are— Are you alright?”
God. He could seriously fucking kiss you.
How do you see a lactating man and your first question is to ask if he's okay? You don't laugh, you don't snicker, you don't even smile. You just look at him with wide, concerned eyes, and it makes him want to crumble right then and there after the agony of the past couple of hours.
“I, um, was exposed to some chemicals at work… You know, classified stuff,” he clears his throat awkwardly, more milk steadily leaking out of him. “God, this is embarrassing.”
And why the fuck did he wear a white tshirt?
“No, but it sounds really scary, I’m so sorry,” you murmur softly.
He feels his heart thunder in his ribcage at the tenderness in your voice, at the way you express your care for him. He wants to thank you, but then he notices your eyes flickering from his face to his chest repeatedly, like you can't stop yourself from looking. That’s when he realizes his nipples are visible through his thin shirt, the fabric saturated with liquid allowing for a perfect view of his darkened peaks.
“I’ll be fine, I just need to pull through it,” he swallows hard.
“What, um… Are you taking any treatment for it? I-I mean, doesn't it hurt?”
“It does,” he answers honestly, his embarrassment so big he almost doesn't care anymore. This is officially the lowest point of his life. “I just try to extract it, but it doesn't do much…”
For a moment, you stay quiet. Your expression looks like a mix of worry and interest, and it seems as though you contemplate for a while before finally speaking.
“Maybe I could help you… If you want.”
Leon feels the air leave his lungs faster than the milk leaving his breasts. He can't believe his ears, and he's not sure you're aware of what you're asking.
He doesn't know what to even answer. On one hand, he wants to categorically refuse just to save any last shred of dignity and honor he so desperately wants to preserve around you. But on the other hand, the thought of you touching him, squeezing his skin to provide him with relief, is the most erotic image his mind has ever conjured.
When he doesn’t respond, your demeanor grows anxious, and you offer a nervous justification.
“It’s just that my sister has two kids so I know a little about this stuff. One time, she had this clogged milk duct and a nurse gave her this massage to help… She said it felt better than anything.”
“That does sound nice…” Leon finally murmurs, losing the battle with himself with every passing second, before finally giving up. “Do you think you could, um, do that? I’m just worried about getting an infection…”
You swallow audibly, like you're gearing yourself up for truly agreeing to do this. It seems he's not the only nervous one.
“I can try,” you nod with a small smile. “I’ll do my best to help.”
“Thank you,” he breathes in gratitude. “Like, seriously.”
When the door shuts behind you with a click, the reality of the situation truly dawns on him. You're about to fondle his tits to help him release milk? What the fuck is going on?
“Please, make yourself at home,” he gestures for you to sit as he places the plate of cookies on the coffee table. The insanity of acting like a respectable host right before he flashes you is not lost on him.
You settle on the couch, and he follows with his head bowed, a constant flush adorning his cheeks that doesn't leave no matter how much he tries to calm himself.
The both of you sit there in silence for an awkward while, before you clear your throat. “So, uh, do you wanna start or?”
“Right, r-right,” he smiles nervously and reaches for the hem of his top.
Peeling the garment off his body feels like the most vulnerable act he's ever had to perform, the fabric clinging to him with its sticky wetness. Once off, he discards it to the side right as he hears your breath audibly hitch.
“Oh, w-wow,” you can't help from gasping.
Peering down, he also gasps at the sight of his swollen chest, his pecs nearly double the volume from their usual already generous size. They're redder, both from the start of clogging-induced- inflammation, and the flush covering his entire body. As for his dark pink nipples, they're constantly beading and leaking milk without the need for a single touch. The sight of him is positively debased.
“Okay,” you inhale deeply, steeling yourself as if you're about to start an intense surgical procedure. “Just tell me if it hurts, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He notices you blink, taken aback, but then the smile you give him reassures him he didn't cross any lines—whatever that means now that you're about to grope his chest.
With a tentative hand, you brush your fingertips along the light hair adorning his left breast, making his breathing instantly stutter. Then, testing for his reaction, you envelope the mound of flesh in your grasp, and give a light squeeze.
“Ngh!” Leon barely suppresses a groan, a thin rivulet of milk spilling down your knuckles.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah… Keep going.”
You squeeze a bit harder, eliciting more sounds out of him, then even harder, until there is a full-on spray that jets out of his nipple and lands right on your shirt.
“Shit,” he gasps, “S-sorry!”
If the ground could swallow him whole, now would be a perfect time.
“Don't worry about it,” you immediately reassure. And as if to prove your point, you bring your second palm to his right breast, and begin pressing on both sides to extract milk more efficiently.
It drips down your hands but you don't seem to mind, if anything you look nearly hypnotized by the sight. Your eyes travel from one tit to the other, unable to look away from the obscene image.
You squeeze particularly hard when he makes another needy sound, and this time the spray lands on your neck. That's when Leon realizes just how rock hard he is under his sweatpants—and that's no adrenaline either.
He knows the kind of effect you have on him, the kind of thoughts he gets about you before berating himself for being a perverted neighbor. But this isn't supposed to be sexy. If anything, it should be the exact opposite of that. So why is he getting off on the utter humiliation of being milked like a cow by his biggest crush?
Thankfully, you don't seem to notice his erection, too focused on his chest, but what you do next has him question everything. You squeeze his tits purposely hard to make them both spray, then moan when most of it lands on your neck and chest.
You moaned. You fucking moaned.
“Leon…” you whimper, like you're the needy of the two even though he’s the one with the throbbing hard-on.
“Y-yeah?”
“Can I… Fuck, can I taste it?”
Holy hell, this is the most insane question he’s ever got.
Observing you better, he can now see the telltale signs of arousal on you. Your half-lidded eyes, blown pupils, and uneven breathing are enough indicators you’re into this in more ways than none. Not to mention the ravenous look you give him that tells him you're turning feral for his milk.
He swallows hard, taking a moment to bid final adieus to his dignity, before he nods. “Okay…”
Offering him a kind, comforting smile despite your apparent giddiness, you lean closer, shifting until your knee bumps into his. That alone has his cock twitching in its confines.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” you whisper gently.
His heart melts, feeling himself once again wish he could cradle your pretty face and kiss you sof—oh fuck, your tongue just flicked over his nipple.
The sound he makes is pathetic, especially when he places his trembling hands on your waist just to coax you to do it again. And you do, flattening your tongue to slowly drag it from the underside of his swollen tit, to the top of his reddened areola, his chest hair tickling your slick muscle.
“Holy—” he grunts, his hips making the most imperceptible of thrusts.
“Tastes… sweet,” you comment in a husky murmur.
Then, as if possessed by a milk-addicted demon, you suddenly latch your month around his tender peak, and begin to suckle like a pro.
“Oh, f-fuck!” Leon fully moans, arching into you as you hum against his skin.
You drink him like he's your favorite beverage, sucking and sucking in gentle motions all while massaging both his pecs to encourage more milk flow.
Then, Leon feels it. The ‘let down.’ Suddenly, the nipple you're sucking isn't just dribbling milk with every squeeze and pull, no, now it's entirely streaming warm liquid right into your mouth, forcing you to audibly swallow.
But it's not a single one either—your throat bobs with gulp after gulp of sweet milk, your eyes rolling back from the intensity of its volume, and all he can do is whimper and whine at the sight.
He moves a hand to cradle the back of your head, holding you in place as you drink him whole. This is what infants do that helps relieve mothers—the suckling triggers the flow of stored milk so the breast truly empties, rather than trickle in useless amounts.
“Fuck, don't stop,” he whines, bucking his hips against you in desperation.
“S’sweet,” you respond in a muffled moan, pressing your thighs together just as needily.
The nipple not in your mouth also starts to steadily flow, albeit at a lesser rate. It appears stimulating one affects the other, and that only serves to make the mess all the stickier.
Both your clothes are wet, soaked by sugary milk that will inevitably crust and stain due to its high fat content. The thought of your blouse and knee length skirt forever ruined by him makes the man feral.
He holds you by the waist, then leans back so he’s reclined on the couch and you're settled between his spread thighs. Now, he can rut his hard cock against your stomach while you continue suckling, causing him both relief and a buildup of need.
“So g-good…” he can't help but praise. “Ngh— You're so fucking good for me.”
With yet another loud gulp, you finally release his tit from your greedy mouth once that side mostly depletes, your breathing ragged.
“I-I can jerk you off too,” you offer with such ease, it almost looks instinctual to him.
“Fuck, that would be—,” he cuts himself off with a moan, before inhaling deep to calm himself. “Shit, are you sure? I know this is really fucking weird… And I don't want you to think that I’m taking advantage of you or anything…”
You chuckle softly, running a wet hand down his abs just to feel them clench. “Leon, I think we both know I’m the one taking advantage of you right now…”
He huffs out a strained laugh, his mind a blur from your creeping palm on his abdomen and the other one still gently fondly his unemptied breast.
“It's just… I don't want it to be just this.” He reaches a hand to tenderly cup your face, his thumb swiping a bead of milk on your lower lip. “I want more.”
“More?”
“I want to—I’ve been wanting to—ask you out on a date. I-I’m just terribly nervous because, well, I like you a lot…”
Leon sees the way your eyes light up, how your smile turns flustered like you’re in the middle of literally milking him. Then, instead of a verbal answer, you lean in slowly, until your mouth hovers over his, before pressing your lips onto him once he doesn't stop you.
Your kiss is gentle, and sweet—literally—thanks to the taste of his milk still on your tongue. You move your mouth in tandem with your squeezing of his breast, then slide your hand on his stomach further until it rests on the waistband of his sweatpants.
“I also want more,” you whisper between slow, languid kisses. “I really like you. Please let me make you feel good.”
“Fuck, baby, you don't have to say please.”
With that, he presses his lips harder against yours, his hands moving down your back to rest at your hips, before he dares groping your ass greedily over your skirt.
When he sucks on your tongue, you whine, then readjust to straddle one of his thighs to give you better access to his straining cock. You lower his pants down without stopping the sloppy kiss, and moan when you feel that he's not wearing underwear. Then, with your fingers wrapped around his fat dick, you start to steadily stroke him while he fondles your ass cheeks, the glide easy from his generous pre mixed with your milk dripping touch.
“You’re so hard, it looks like it hurts,” you comment between nips at his lip.
“It does… It hurts so fucking bad, especially when I think of you,” he whines in admission, licking at the seam of your mouth. “You're so hot, I can't stop thinking about you.”
“Hm, good boy… I think about you too.”
Leon chokes, and your thumb presses on the sensitive skin of his frenulum, before you lower your mouth back down to his chest.
Trailing kisses along the blonde hair on his sternum, you don't take long before taking a nipple into your mouth again, this time focusing on the tit that’s still full.
Every greedy suckle and earnest stroke pulls out a whimper out of him. It's the point he can't bring himself to shut up if he tries as his hands slip under your skirt just to grope your skin better.
Unable to resist, you begin to grind down your wet panties on his muscular thigh, letting out small hums and moans against his tender peak. He responds with earnest hip thrusts, eager to please you despite his hazy state.
If he had himself together, he would eat you out until you're completely shaking. But for now, all he can do is beg for relief from you while doing his best not to cum embarrassingly fast.
“So sweet and needy,” you coo between filthy sucks, and that earns you anotber buck of his pelvis into your hand.
“Just for you... Ah— I wouldn't let anyone else—fuck—anyone else do this.”
“Perfect boy,” you purr in approval.
Resuming your suckling, it doesn't take long before you trigger a let down again, his milk pouring into your mouth like a fountain. You swallow it all greedily, all while your hips grind harder and you jerk him faster.
Leon can feel your soaking cunt through his pants, your pussy so wet it makes a slick sound that joins the symphony of your suckling, gulping, and stroking motions. It's filthy, obscene, and unlike anything he’s ever done before, and it's fucking perfect.
It also earns you encouraging slaps to your ass that appear to drive you crazy.
“Hm, Leon, f-feels so good.”
“Yeah? You like this, love?” he grunts, landing a sharper spank right as he arches into you. “Can't believe I found myself such a good girl… Shit, drinking me up like she's starved.”
He doesn't expect it to happen so quickly, but you suddenly climax on top of him, the delicious drag of his thigh against your cunt seemingly enough to bring you to completion. Though he suspects you were so edged and worked up the entire time, that it didn't take much to break you.
And naturally, that breaks him too.
“I’m so fucking close,” he grits out a warning accompanied by more smacks to your soft flesh, his voice strained.
In response, you double your efforts, stimulating him even more intensely with your hand and mouth until he can't contain himself anymore.
“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck—”
He cums hard all over your fingers and his abdomen. Spurt after spurt coat your skin and his in a generous load of semen, its smell permeating the air in addition to the sweet milk.
Finally, his balls are depleted at the same time as the nipple under your tongue slows to a small trickle. You have emptied him in every possible way, the relief that floods him unlike anything he’s ever felt before.
Panting, he wraps his arms around your back, hugging you flush against his torso while you attempt to catch your own breathing. It’s quiet for a moment, with his fingers tracing patterns on your spine while yours swirl his sticky chest hair. You’re completely relaxed in his hold, positively milk drunk.
“So…” he murmurs with a newfound shyness. “Do you like Lebanese? There's this nice place near my job.”
You tilt your head up with a smile, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but excited nonetheless.
“Yeah, I’d love that,” you nod wholeheartedly, “and then later, I can make us dessert at my place?”
Leon grins, his confidence soaring at your eager approval. He can't believe he’s this lucky when he was certain he would lose all honor from the humiliation of lactating like a damn cow. But instead, you milked him lovingly, with zero judgement. It's absolutely insane.
He cups your face to peck your mouth with a smile, the sugary taste of him still lingering on your lips.
“Alrighty. You bring the cookies, and I’ll bring the cream. How's that for dessert?”
idk what's wrong with me but thank you for reading yay! 💛🧡
and yes i did fire up re4 to take those screenshots and then proceeded to add blush to his pretty face and massive tits. what about it?
ao3: auguststorm