#leon fanfic

[danytar]

I wouldn’t mind getting chocked by THOSE-

[k3nnedygirl]

risky sex with leon!

★ pure smut nothing much really, risky sex? don't get caught, boss! chris on the phone, based on my headcanon!

★ can be any leon, i had re9 in mind (oh what's new here?) and re4 leon!

sofa sex with leon on a saturday evening was a normal way to end the weekend, preparing for the upcoming week.

the house will be filled with your pants and moans, obscene sentences from leon and his strong arms are firmly wrapped around your waist as his hand meets the soft skin of your butt in a loud spank.

his eyes fixated on your face as you roll eyes when you feel his tip toying rushly around your soaked folds. 

leon’s grabs the nape of your neck to pull you into a desperate kiss. his sweaty chest rising up and down fast. his breathing was ragged and heavy. he lets out a groan when his lips melted into yours.

there’s nothing romantic about it, it’s uncontrolled and messy. it’s like a fight to see who gives in before. which as for now, it seems leon is having the hardest time, groaning when you pull away to let out a moan once his tip is inside of you.

leon grabs your hips, helping you to lower yourself into him. you throw your head back in pleasure, feeling him completely deep inside of your throbbing pussy.

leon’s grip around your ass tightens slightly at the feeling of your tight and fiery insides.

his thrust began slowly, trying to gain some self control. trying to not look so desperate for your pussy... which he always is.

¨mmm… leon, fuck me harder.¨ you moan out, you bury your head into his neck.

leon clicks his tongue as his lips curl into a smile.

¨so needy today princess…¨ leon bites into the soft skin of your shoulder.

you start moving your hips up and down meeting his thrust, trying to gain more pleasure.

oh... he loves when you do this. leon’s hips stop moving, giving you full control to guide both of you to an earth shattering orgasm.

¨fuck… you take me in so well¨

leon’s hands move up to cup your breast, caressing every inch of your body on his way up. he presses your tits together, his thumb going in circles across your hard nipples. his touch sends small jolts of pleasure around your body, down to your core.

that sensation soon turns into blazing blows when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, hungrily sucking it and then rubbing his lips across the sensitive bud.

your eyes open at the sound of your phone next to you on the couch. stopping everything you’re doing, you lean over to take it.

incoming call from Chris R.

¨oh shit… it’s my boss¨ 

¨so…? answer him, baby.¨ his voice is completely careless. clearly, he’s not going to let chris, or anyone, ruin his time with you.

leon starts to thrust into you. not stopping giving your nipples the attention they craved. his hands roam freely around your curves.

you hesitate for a second before answering the phone... what if its important?

¨yeaah?¨ your voice came out as a soft moan as you answered the phone.

¨keep your voice steady, my love.¨ leon groaned between your breast.

¨hey- are you good?¨ chris’s voice hinted a bit of worry through the other line.

¨mmm- yes, what is it, chris?¨

¨listen… i need a favor.¨ 

you bit your lower lip, trying to control your moans. leon stopped attacking your sensitive nipples and made his way up to your neck. kissing your collarbone, trailing its length with his tongue.

his hot tongue moves up to your sweet spot, sucking in gently. you’re sure he made a hickey there for everyone to see tomorrow when you go to work. 

maybe it's a warning for your boss? to not call in on a sunday afternoon.

¨wha-what is it?¨

¨can you…¨

you stop listening to your boss completely when leon started moving at that pace that drove you mad. thrusting into you hard and deep. his hips meeting yours in a sinful sound. pounding into you the way he knows you love. a sweet pressure building inside of you with each thrust. clouding your mind with lust.

his face buried in your neck, listening to his muffled grunts and little moans that would escape his lips without control against your heated up skin sending waves of heat down to your core.

¨… please can you have it for me first thing in the morning? i’ll send you the info¨

chris’s voice dragged your lust blinded mind back to the phone again. 

“i-i-ll se what i caaa-” you stop yourself mid sentence at the sudden moan, feeling that familiar, yet always surprising feeling. warm and tingly creeping your pussy making you arch your back.¨can do¨ you continue.

leons feels it around his cock too, you are close. your walls spasms without control, heat rising within them.

¨hey, you good?¨fucking damn it chris, hang up already.

¨yes! i- huh…¨  your eyes wandered around your space, trying to find a physical answer laying around the floor, maybe somewhere between your clothes and leon’s.

you shake between leon’s muscular arms, clenching every muscle trying to content your orgasm for a while longer

¨make something up baby, or you’ll be screaming over the phone¨ leon whispers against your neck, making you shiver.

you swallow your moans.

¨yeah i just- burnt myself with the teapot.¨

¨alright, i’ll leave you to it then¨

¨okay, chris. bye-bye.¨

¨see y-¨ you hang up before he could finish, throwing your phone to the couch.

¨you did good…¨ leon groans out as he squeezes your ass.

¨shut up…¨

your whole body is spasming making you grab his muscular biceps for support. squeezing them as you feel your orgasm upon you.

a wave of heat washes over your whole body, striking you like a lighting making you collapse on top of leon.

your body feels heavy, coated with a thin layer of sweat, your breathing is ragged and your mind is spinning.

¨shit, baby…i’m¨ a low moan escapes leon’s lips, soft spams taking over his body explodes at the intense and sharp pleasure. his head is thrown back against the couch, his sweaty chest rising without any control.

¨fuuck¨ he drags his own words as he lifts his head up to look back at you. leon’s lips are parted slightly, half lidded eyes, completely coated with lust, lost in you. 

¨you look so pretty after you cum, baby¨ his hand reaches for a strand of your hair, tugging it lightly behind your ear.

you bend slightly, kissing him slowly. his lips feel hot and tender. you move down to his cheek, giving it a small love bite

¨you’re insane.¨

heeey, idk what to say. i need him badly

i had to rewrite this like 3 times because i wasn’t happy with how it was turning out 😭 i was stressing lmfao

anywaysss i hope you enjoy!! it’s my first time writing smut in years so… be nice 🖤

dividers by cursed-carmine!

[leonssuccubus]

⌞ think i need someone older ⸝⸝ leon k. ⌝

warnings: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓! ⋆ professor!leon ⋆ raw 𖬺𖬺 older ⋆ pure filth ⋆ age gap ⋆ riding him in his chair + railing you on his desk ⋆ leon is kinda mean ⋆ semi-public sex ⋆ bigdick!leon ⋆ pet names ⋆ dumbification ⋆ praise + more. «𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝»

word count: 𝟏.𝟑 𝐤

author’s note: hiii this is my first time writing for leon so idk if this is any good but i’ve recently gotten back into re after requiem came out and since i became a writer like a year and a half ago i decided to make a resident evil (leon biased) blog^^ i don’t know how active i’ll be here but please send in smut fic ideas!! i was gonna make this longer but felt like it was gonna take too long so i cut it short at the end.

keep in mind: english is not my first language!

summary: getting private lessons from your favorite professor because you’re failing his classes on purpose.

ⓘ credit to professor!leon goes to the individual who created him first!! 𖬺𖬺 leon is 49 in this ’cause this takes place in the present :)

Leon sighs heavily as he watches you bat your lashes at him, seated across from him in his office. He’d called you in here to discuss how much your performance in class has plummeted lately.

“Mr. Kennedy, I just think...” You trail off, smiling as you lean slightly closer to the desk, your voice becoming more low and sultry. “You should give me a more hands-on lesson.” Your eyes trail over his features, watching his expression shift slightly. “I’m more of a visual learner, you know?”

“Haahh... Visual learner?” He lets out a small, short laugh that sounds more like a deep exhale, looking amused and frustrated all at once. “Right. Let’s say you are—And how do you expect me to give you a visual demonstration of advanced calculus, sweetheart?”

The way he said the endearment, with the slightest hint of sarcasm, has you shifting in your seat, a heat beginning to burn deep in your core. Like it always does when you interact with him. Which is probably why you haven’t been paying much attention to the subject at hand.

And God, he’s so sexy without even trying.

His glasses lay on the desk beside his laptop, his collar opened and tie loosened, his hair slightly messier than usual like he’d been running his fingers through it all day. He looks tired; The kind of tired that makes you want to pamper him and take care of his needs.

Your eyes trail down to his hands, resting by his laptop, no ring in sight. He’s not married, never has been, and he says he’s too busy with his responsibilities as a college professor to really date seriously, let alone marry, whenever someone asks.

But the fact that he’s single at 49—despite being so good looking—baffles you. Women throw themselves at him, discreetly or not. You’ve seen it first-hand, how the professors, old and young, flirt with him. And you’ve seen how he doesn’t really encourage it.

Even so, you won’t give up.

“But, prof, I can memorize it all if you just help me focus...” You try to reason with him, batting your lashes, smiling flirtatiously. And it seems to be working in your favor, judging by the way his jaw muscles flex beneath his skin, looking more worked up than you’d ever seen him.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s just the two of you alone in his office, the door closed, the glow of the setting sun draping the space between you in warmth and setting an intimate mood. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s done pretending like you don’t get under his skin—like you don’t make him feel things he was so sure he wouldn’t feel again.

And somehow, he finally agrees to your dumb proposal that could cost him his job and reputation if he gets caught in the middle of it.

But the thrill of it sparks something feral within him.

Your breath hitches as you bounce on your professor’s dick, long and meaty, with prominent veins you swear you can feel whenever you slow down just enough. Leon’s hands on your hips keeps you from stopping fully, though, making sure you’re still riding him as you try to give the correct answer to his questions.

But it feels impossible to speak, let alone think.

He’s so big and going so deep that your poor mind is completely blank, unable to remember how to solve the easiest problems. It’s like you’ve gone dumb. And Leon? He seems to be enjoying it thoroughly despite his otherwise stoic face, his strict expression broken only by the hint of pleasure etched onto it.

“Can’t even solve an easy fucking problem,” he mocks as he pulls your hips down, watching your lips part as a desperate, choked moan claws out of your throat. “And you said you were a "visual learner who needed a hands-on kinda lesson"... Where’s that now, huh?”

You try to speak, but all that comes out are a few pleas bleeding into moans and whimpers as you grip onto his shoulders, unable to even look at him. Humiliation burns through you, making your face feel like it’s on fire, but what can you even say? It’s true that you’ve gone completely stupid.

The position you both are in—you straddling his lap, facing him—makes you feel too exposed. He can see every shift in your expression, every roll of your eyes, every time your breath hitches deep in your chest, and every time your bottom lip gets stuck between your teeth in a poor attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice all low and gruff as he bounces you on his lap, his biceps and forearms bulging intimidatingly. His eyes narrow slightly when you lock eyes with him for what felt like a millisecond before looking away, your pussy squeezing him tighter from the sight of him.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, “you said you can do this, so look at me.”

You bite back a whimper as you look into his eyes again, your inner walls clenching around him so tightly it makes him hiss, his hips stuttering against yours. The eye contact is too much. It feels like he’s looking right into you, making this feel so much more intense.

“Thaat’s right... Good girl,” Leon murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at the ends of his lips, as his grip on your hips grow tighter, fingers digging into your flesh. And before you can even catch your breath, you feel him shift in his seat before thrusting up into your sharply.

Your whole body jolts as white-hot pleasure shoots through your nerves, making you gasp and moan, eyes wide, jaw slack. “P-prof--” You gasp, clinging to him as he wraps his arms around your waist, hips smacking against yours with wet smacks that seem to echo in the now dark space of his office.

You definitely didn’t expect this.

Your moans are right beside his ear, so desperate, and you try to silence them by biting your lips—but obviously, that doesn’t do much. Your muffled moans sends shivers down his spine, making him groan, his arms tightening around you. He needs to see you. But the darkness doesn’t allow him.

Leon slows down slightly, panting softly as he reaches for the switch of the desk lamp he has on one edge of the desk in front of you two. The lamp gives a dim glow to the entire room, making it more intimate but also letting him see you.

“Hold on,” he commands softly, but doesn’t wait for you to comply before he’s lifting you up with him without even pulling out. You barely have any time to react before you feel the hard surface of his desk beneath you, your legs being set onto his shoulders, the position letting him sink deeper.

Leon can finally see your expression clearly—and he almost loses it at the sight of you so undone, his cock throbbing inside your warmth. His lips part as he watches your chest heave, your brows knitted together. Then, his eyes trail down, to where he can see your puffy cunt stretched around his thickness.

“Look at you...” He breathes out, as he pulls back slowly before pushing back in again, letting you feel every ridge and vein—every thick inch. He watches your eyes roll back when he shifts his hips while pushing inside, hitting a spot that makes your brain short-circuit with pleasure.

And, as the mean man he is, he speeds up, making sure to hit that spongy spot inside you. Your noises of pleasure only fuels his desire to fuck you harder. He doesn’t even care if you’re being too loud, it’s not like he cared in the first place, anyway.

Neither you or Leon even remember why this all started in the first place, pleasure clouding both of your minds. All Leon wants right now is to see you fall apart on his dick, and hear those sweet sounds you’re unable to stop making.

God, he’s—completely and utterly—fucked.

© 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬

[tonguetiedloser]

So..Can I take you out sometime?

SUMMARY: Agent Kennedy is a smartass, so he reopens his stitches. PAIRING: Leon S. Kennedy/ fem!Reader TAGS: Reader is the doctor, Any era leon works, Fluff and a little crack if you squint, Hunnigan gave him the balls, we love lonely men, a little beta read. 𖦹 Word Count: 2,009 𖦹 Ao3

"Agent Kennedy, you need to stop moving." Your voice cut through, quite displeased by his constant fidgeting. You had patched him up merely two days ago; he had seventeen stitches across his abdomen, fresh bandaging and a lecture he could probably recite word for word by now. Avoid strain. No sudden movement. Rest for at least forty-eight hours.

Simple instructions.

Instructions Leon Kennedy had apparently treated as optional.

Leon was not foreign to the concept of stitches and so you were sure there would be no complications this time as well. Lo and behold, 'I was bored so I went to the camp' which led to your current predicament.  “Says the lady currently driving a needle through my skin,” he muttered with a strained groan, finally leaning back against the operating chair.  "You were the one who denied local anaesthesia. If you want I could still-" You were cut off by him almost immediately. "I don't need local ana-thing for 5 stitches" He said as if you had offended him by even suggesting it. Men. "Then don't move again. I mean it." Sternly, this time.  "You got it doc." Keeping his word, he stopped moving, the only sign that he was not under an anaesthetic being the faces he was making every time the needle went through. The stitching, being superficial, was done relatively fast. You moved away and discarded your gloves.  "I'm writing you up on a strict recovery leave for the next two weeks" , you said flatly as you reached for the clipboard resting on the counter nearby. Leon’s head snapped up so fast you almost feared he had torn another stitch. "Oh, come on, doc, don't do this to me. Hell, I'm pretty sure you're not even allowed to do that."

“Doctor’s authority overrides field assignment if an operative is deemed medically unfit for active duty,” you recited. “Would you like me to continue, or have you memorised this lecture too?”

Leon stared at you for a long second before letting out a quiet sigh through his nose.

“That’s low.”

“What’s low is reopening your stitches because you got bored.” Moving to your desk and sitting down, you picked up his file.

“In my defence, it wasn’t entirely my fault.”

You finally glanced at him, unimpressed. “You voluntarily went to a training camp two days after abdominal sutures.” “They needed me there!” He replied quick on his feet.  "You told me you went because you were bored." Another flat look. A beat of silence "Well, I was bored and they needed help with the rookies." "Leon, we are not arguing about this. You need rest. As your doctor its my responsibility to make sure you stay in good health and shape" You set the clipboard down on the desk with a sharp tap, turning back to face him.

He slumped back onto the operating chair with a groan. "Fine. You're the boss. I'll sit at home and do nothing. Rot basically. Cause that's what u want me to do. Rot." "Leon." "No no. Do as you please. Don't let my misery bother you." "Agent Kennedy."

That finally got his attention.

Barely.

He dragged a hand down his face before peering at you through brown-blond strands falling over tired blue eyes. “You know, people usually buy me dinner before threatening my entire lifestyle.”

You crossed your arms. “People usually don't reopen stitches out of boredom.”  A soft smile took home on his face all the while looking like he was seconds away from falling asleep. Cute. Adorable even. The small voice in your head even urged you to run ur fingers through his hair. How unprofessional, you scolded yourself mentally.   “You’re exhausted,” you said, gentler this time.

“I’m functioning.”

“You were limping when you came in.”

“Hey now you're just being dramatic.”  How stubborn can someone possibly be, level Leon Scott Kennedy. You exhaled slowly through your nose, fighting the urge to smile. Fighting and losing, apparently, because his eyes narrowed the second he caught it.

“There it is,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“That thing.”

You frowned. “Very descriptive.”

“The smile.” He gestured vaguely toward your face. “You try not to do it around me.”

Your heartbeat performed an unhelpful little backflip.

“That is objectively untrue.” Quick to defend yourself and only receiving a "mmhmm" from his end. "FYI, I'm very professional, I do not laugh and giggle with any of the government agents I'm assigned to. Ever." You said trying to gain some of the ground back for it to all be yeeted out the window when leon dramatically clutches his chest. "Agents. There are multiple? You're telling me I'm not the only one?"  You roll your eyes and get up to wash the tools you used. Distracting. Or at least trying your best to distract yourself. That was until Leon spoke up again. "I think you tolerate me quite professionally.” His voice dipped lower, softer around the edges. “I think the smiling part’s separate.” And thank god you were'nt facing him cause he would have totally caught onto how warm that sentence just made you. "You're avoiding the real topic." You said trying to go back to medical leaves. "You're deflecting." God did he ever stop, or was he on a mission to break his poor doctor's composure today? Nope. Not today.

"You need sleep." You said placing the washed stuff back where it belongs "Cruel" Came a quick reply "And at least two weeks off duty." "Crueler."

With that, you turned back only to see him staring at the ceiling as if he had been sentenced to death. You cleared your throat and sat back down at your desk, flipping through his file in an attempt to regain some level of professionalism. “Your vitals are stable for now. But if those stitches reopen again, you’ll need another full closure.”

“Sounds romantic.” You chose to ignore that one.

“You’ll need to come back in a week so I can remove the stitches.”

“A whole week without seeing me?” he mused. “How tragic.”

“You say that like you don’t appear here every three business days.”

“That’s unfair.” To which I replied, "hardly," before standing up and making my way to his other reports to add them into the file as well. Another silence settled between you. 

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that made you aware of stupid things.

Like the fact Leon’s voice always sounded rougher when he was tired.

Or how he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Or how unfairly good-looking someone had no business being while half-drugged on painkillers. You could feel his gaze lingering again. It made concentrating nearly impossible.

“Why do you do that?” he asked suddenly.

You looked up. “Do what?”

“Act like you don’t like me.”

You nearly dropped the clipboard.

“I never said I didn’t like you.”

“You don’t have to.” His smile turned faintly crooked. “You get all professional whenever things stop being about medical stuff.”

“That is generally how being a doctor works.”

“Mm. See? There it is again.”

You set the clipboard down with perhaps slightly more force than necessary. “You are reading too much into things.”

“Occupational hazard.”

Before you could respond, Leon shifted forward in the chair with a quiet grunt. Immediately, your expression sharpened. “What did I just say about moving?”

“I dropped my phone!” You are quick to pick it up and hand it to him. And as if on cue, it rang loudly in his hand.

Leon glanced at the screen and groaned dramatically. “Great. Hunnigan.”

“Answer it.”

“She’s gonna yell at me.”

“You deserve it.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before answering anyway. “Hey.”

You busied yourself backl with his file while he spoke.

Or rather, while he got scolded.

“Yes, I’m at medical.”

Pause.

“No, I’m fine.”

Longer pause.

“I said I’m fine.”

You heard a faint muffled voice and had to fight down a smile.

Leon pointed accusingly toward you while talking into the phone. “See? This is workplace bullying. You and her. You both are teaming up against me.”

You snorted quietly.

Apparently, that was audible enough because Hunnigan’s voice sharpened through the receiver.

Leon sighed heavily. “Okay, okay. Yes ma’am.”

Another pause.

Then his expression shifted slightly.

Subtler.

Softer.

His eyes flicked toward you briefly before he looked away again.

“...No,” he said after a moment. “Not yet.”

Your brows furrowed slightly.

Not yet?

Hunnigan must have said something else because Leon suddenly rubbed his face with his free hand.

“You are literally making this worse.”

Now you were curious.

Very curious.

A beat later, he hung up and tossed the phone onto his lap.

You crossed your arms. “Problems?” "Aren't there always?...You know what I've realised, doc?" I looked at him, confused, "What have you realised?"

“I like being here.”

You blinked. “In medical?”

“In your office.”

Your heart stumbled traitorously. Was he smooth-talking right now?

“That might genuinely be the saddest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’m serious.”

You looked at him carefully.

He looked exhausted still. Pale under the fluorescent lights. Hair falling into tired eyes. Stubbornness practically radiated off him in waves.

But underneath all of that was something else.

Ease. Like this was one of the few places where he could unclench for a minute.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

The rain outside had softened into a steady rhythm against the windows. Somewhere farther down the hall, footsteps passed and faded again. 

Leon Kennedy looked unfairly pretty while exhausted. "So...I've got a question for you", Leon spoke up, breaking the quiet. "Sure. What is it?" You noticed the slight shift in posture. The hesitation. The way his gaze flicked away for half a second before returning to yours. “I was wondering...” He cleared his throat lightly. “If maybe you’d want to get dinner sometime.”

Your brain stopped functioning.

Completely.

You stared at him.

Leon immediately grimaced. “Wow. That bad, huh?”

“What?”

“The silence. Usually not a great sign.”

“No, I just…” You blinked rapidly. “You’re asking me out?”

"Well, I was trying to.” A faint flush touched the tips of his ears. “Kinda crashing and burning now.”

“You’re serious?” you said.

You folded your arms again mostly to hide the fact your hands suddenly had nowhere sensible to go. “Agent Kennedy, are you aware that there are probably regulations about this?”

“Probably.”

“And you didn’t even hesitate?”

“I hesitated for like six months.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Six months!?”

“Listen,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not exactly great at this anymore.”

The honesty in that statement hit unexpectedly hard.

Not self-pitying.

Just truthful.

Careful.

Like someone testing whether the ground beneath them would hold.

“You could’ve asked someone else,” you pointed out softly.

He looked at you for a long moment.

Then, quieter than before, “Didn’t want someone else.”

The room went still. Outside, thunder rolled somewhere far in the distance.

Leon leaned back again, clearly deciding he’d already embarrassed himself enough for one evening. “Anyway. You can say no. I figured I’d ask before you banished me to house arrest.”

"Wh-I...well..uhh." Words and thoughts had completely escaped you because this was genuinely the last thing you thought would happen. "Hey its ok, you know? It's fine. I'm a big boy, I can take rejections."

You shook your head, trying desperately to ignore the stupid fluttering in your chest. “Leon.”

His expression softened slightly at the sound of his name. “I’m serious” he said quietly.

"Well...You are going to recover first." And upon hearing that, he visibly perked up. As if you had just given a golden retriever its favourite treat. And god did the sudden, wide-eyed hopefulness look adorable on him. "...and after?" He asked carefully

You tried to maintain professionalism.

You truly did. But the small smile found your face anyways. "After...maybe dinner."

Leon stared for exactly one second before visibly relaxing with a smile as he looked at you.

“There it is again,” he said softly.

You frowned slightly. “What?”

“That smile.” +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ A/n: First leon fic!! Not sure how I feel about it tho. Did you guys like it? ❥𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽!!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

he’s exhausted.

the door slams harder than he intends, but its the least of his concerns. leon wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, noting that the skin on his face isn’t much cleaner than the skin elsewhere. he’s covered in dirt and scuffs, and the occasional scratch he isn’t sure he’s fully dealt with. a saturday night special for the agent.

his keys, his phone, and his belt are tossed onto the table. he looks around, noting your absence. normally you’re up, sometimes even as late as he is. but instead of risking your life, dealing with unfathomable creatures and keeping destruction at bay, you lead a normal life. a normal life, as leon doesn’t quite know it, typically entails staying up late on your phone, just confirm your boyfriend has arrived home in (mostly) one piece, before heading off to bed.

but this time, you didn’t wait up. so he sighs, knowing you’re already asleep. his final mission for tonight: clean up and join you in bed.

but that assignment is shortly thwarted when he notes that you aren’t in bed, but that you’ve fallen asleep on the couch. not that that’s an issue- he’s carried you to bed a million times before.

what he sees next makes him frown.

you’re laying there, hair tousled from tossing and turning. you’re wearing the nice, lacy set he’s never made heart eyes over, but always makes sure to catch a few extra glances when you’re wearing it. one of the straps on your shoulder has fallen loosely off.

he sighs, gently sliding it back into place. you’re laying on top of rose petals and just next to a bottle of wine- a nice one, too, because its the cherry on top of all the guilt he’s feeling.

you’ve been missing him.

he’s been too busy, he’s never been around, but he’s also been tired. theres muscles in him that have gotten to used to aching he’s forgotten what its like to live without them. he lives with it, knows its the cost of his job. but he wishes it wouldn’t cost him this.

he lets you sleep, taking a shower and grabbing an apple out of the fridge. he takes a painkiller and stretched before walking back to the couch, just with the innocent intent of taking you back to bed.

he freezes when he sees you again. how peaceful you look. how walking you up would disturb that.

but there is only so much stretching and advil can do for you. your skin against his, your lips, your soft gasps when he pushes into you… maybe that’d do the trick.

so he kneels down, just in a towel covering is bottom half from the shower. his hand comes up and shakes your shoulder, watching your eyes slowly flutter.

he’s still holding you when you jolt up on to your elbows, blinking awake.

“leon,“ you ramble, still foggy from having just woken up. “i’m sorry, i-i was trying to wait up and-“

he hushes you, cupping your face. his thumb comes to your lips to get you to stop racing.

“i know.” he ever so slightly smiles, motioning to the rose petals and the forgotten wine glasses. “its okay.”

you sigh, practically sinking into the couch cushions. he wants to apologize, but its a speech you’ve heard before. he wants to tell you that he’s tired, but its something you have memorized by now. what he really wants to say is that no amount of soreness and tiredness would ever stop him from wanting this, from wanting you, and that its his fault he doesn’t say it enough.

and the look of you in that lace, of how much he can see underneath, makes him really want to say it.

“we can just go to bed.” you whisper, voice still husky from sleep. you look at him with your big eyes and plush lips, your skin soft compared to the tired lines on his. you’re making his knees weak, when he normally needs them to be strong.

he shakes his head, already letting the towel around his waist fall. your breath hitches.

“not what i had in mind.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

leon figures that if he can’t get rid of his soreness, he’ll at least let the two of you share it.

he has you laid down over the couch cushions, bra ripped off and panties moved to the side. he’s trained to be efficient, and he can’t waist his time sliding off every flimsy piece of fabric when his priority is to dick you down as fast and rough as possible.

on arm braces over your head, the other is under your thigh, keeping you wrapped around him while he thrusts into you. he’s groaning, chasing the feeling of your soft, slick walls gripping onto every single vein and curve.

he’s after those breathless moans and the occasional whine when he hits you deep. you look up at him, the way his hair falls around him while he clenches his jaw with effort. the way his eyes zero in on your face, and then between your legs, watching his cock disappear into you.

he’s tired, but he doesn’t care. not when you look up at him like he invented oxygen, all because he’s plowing you at a perfect angle.

“i missed you.” you sob, and he shushes you by leaning down, messily pressing his lips to yours. he knows and he’s making up for it, giving you an hour of searing pleasure, fucking the love into you so you can hold onto it forever.

“i know.” he groans, his tongue in your mouth just up against yours. his calloused hand moves up to palm your breast, squeezing just to get another shaky gasp to fall from your lips. he pinches your nipple, just gently, manipulating your body to fall apart for him. “i know. but i’m here now, so take it.”

his efforts redouble and you see stars. the sound of skin slapping together fills the room better than you could’ve imagined. you part your lips to kiss him again and he meets you halfway, smothering his lips over yours while he fucks you into oblivion.

“leon- i’m gonna cum.” you pant, hand reaching down to rub circles on your clit. he practically swats your hand away, finding the sweet bundle of nerves and finishing you off.

you cum with a gasp, buzzing, warm. he fucks you through it, thrusts reduced to a slow, deep rhythm. the rose petals are stuck to the sweat on your skin. he gently flicks one off of your shoulder. he presses another kiss to you, but this time clean, sweet, slow. like he’s trying to remind you that he is never too sore for this, for you.

this was what he needed.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

@crushmeeren this took forever girl- i’m sorry!!! but i wrote this for us 🫶

[coralreefqueen-ao3]

A Day I'll Never Forget

Pairing: 18+ | Leon Kennedy x Reader

Tags: slow burn, eventual smut, explicit language, dirty talk, established relationship, fluff, domestic moments, unrequited love (temporarily), reader falls first but Leon falls harder, one-liners, awkward dates, told over a frame of time (RE2 to RE9), Leon is kinda dense when it comes to your affections - at first

Summary: A look at the complicated romance between you and Leon. From your initial meeting, through your pining, your first date, and eventually marriage. All the times Leon never recognized your affections, until he finally did.

Word Count: 2.2k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“September 30th you said?” You had written the month down in the date section of the report you were filing. 

“Time sure is flying, isn’t it,” the officer in front of you replied, shuffling through papers on his desk, “it’s already 1998, we are about to enter the 21st century.” 

You hummed, acknowledging the officer’s awe concerning the upcoming century. It had been the talk of Racoon City as of late, how the city planned to celebrate was the biggest news of the decade. You, personally, could care less. At your age, the welcoming of a new year was hardly your biggest concern. 

In terms of the local police department, it seemed their festivities revolved around a new recruit. You were certainly no detective, but the string hanging from the ceiling harbored blue circles with yellow letters, indicating the person to arrive was named Leon. 

“New recruit?” You made conversation, now filling out the account section of the report, detailing what you had witnessed. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “it will be nice to have a Rookie around here, them young ones are always so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Us old folks could use that energy.” 

The officer on your case didn’t seem that old. But, you didn’t bother to comment, solely aiming to be in and out of the establishment. The longer you remained, the higher the chance there was of getting innocent involved. You weren’t supposed to be there. You weren’t supposed to be relaying classified information. 

Your pen scratched the last sentence, then you signed your name, including your contact information. 

“Great,” the officer grabbed the sheet, giving it a look over before stashing it in a file drawer, “if you wouldn’t mind waiting by the entrance, we can get you in touch with the detective who will be handling your case.” 

You nodded, gripping your purse as you sat in a chair near the front desk. Your heel bobbed, knee shaking while nerves commandeered your being. Any colleague of yours could be onto you, currently on their way to reprimand your decision. 

A colleague wouldn’t reach you, neither would the detective on staff. 

A shout would ring out from the upper floors, feet stomping in quick repetitions as officers fled. A gunshot would penetrate the air, and instead of fleeing with others, you ran towards the commotion. 

There, you would meet blood and commotion, snarls from individuals you would have considered human. Their walk would be off kilter, crimson spilling from their mouths to drip from the curves of their chins. You wouldn’t panic, no, because this was what you had feared, what you had come to report. 

As a chemist, the misuse of any chemical or biological data was strictly prohibited. 

You had only seen the evidence when glancing at your mentor’s confidential reports. You hadn't meant to, but key words had stuck out like neon lights, ultimately revealing a bioweapon many would aim to capitalize. 

Your stomach had dropped, your mind whirring. 

Which was how you found yourself at the Racoon City Police Department. 

But all of it had been in vain, you were far too late. Judging by the sickening shade of skin upon the infected, nothing could be done. A discarded pair of scissors was your nearest option, and as you plunged the sharp point into the neck of a woman you had seen enter earlier, tears dripped down your cheeks. 

One jab wouldn’t be enough, you’d have to retreat then slam the blade back in, this time, deeper. 

It would be your first kill, and not your last. 

Chaos swarmed the building within minutes. You had trust in the system implemented, yet you would find out it had nothing in place for zombies. Which, in hindsight, made sense. Zombies were creatures you found in books, movies, and video games. If you were to call anyone and say zombies were running rampant down halls, they would laugh. 

The electricity failed first. Lights flickered before submerging the halls in darkness. Another screech echoed, this one emanating pain. Shots fired, growls from something otherworldly, pierced the turmoil. Panic seized your being, but you pushed through, navigating pitch black halls. 

You found a door, and jiggled the handle, finding it was unlocked. The room you would enter would be your safe haven - a supply room. You hid beneath a spare desk, tucking your knees to your chest. A ruby light was stationed where a wall met the ceiling, an emergency light. You would stare at it for what felt like hours, hands stiff on the floor. They were sticky, weighted with drying blood. 

Something told you not to exit the room. It was probably the seemingly endless gunshots. Voices commanded others, separation evident as those orders were far and few between. Then, it became eerily quiet, aside from the occasional grunt of an infected. 

The clock on the wall ticked. Your teeth gritted, molars compressing. The damn thing was too loud. But it would create more of a racket to drag a chair over and clamber to reach it. This, you realized, was where you would perish. 

If you didn’t do anything. 

When the clock struck ten you’d move - that was your decision. Fifteen minutes to collect yourself. 

You scanned the room, scouting for any item that might be of use. Boxes of papers, pens, and clipboards were prominent. An odd green plant was located atop a cabinet, potted and ripe with leaves. If the thing was to be displayed, this was not the room to do it. 

“Hello! Is anyone here?” 

A door slammed down the hall, alerting a few stragglers. A weapon discharged, a comforting sound. 

“Shit,” the man hissed, “damned things won’t die.” 

He sounded young, almost boyish. Upheaval followed, bodies falling to the ground after a few more bullets exited the chamber. The newcomer’s footsteps were calculated, his breathing shallow. The handle turned, and you winced as a flashlight blanketed your form. 

“Hey,” the man rushed forward, kneeling in front of you. The door shut behind him with a thump loud enough to prompt the others. If you were in any other situation, you would have considered his excitement somewhat adorable. “Are you okay?”

Blonde hair framed his forehead in a split making his bangs uneven. Beneath the strands, cobalt eyes were trained on you, pure, overflowing with compassion. His attire revealed he was an officer, one who belonged to this particular precinct. 

The banner from earlier flashed through your mind. 

“Leon?” You guessed. 

“Yeah,” his eyebrows pinched, “you know me?” 

You shook your head, “the others were expecting you.” 

“I know,” he sank further so his rear met his heels. Defeated, he appeared ashamed. “It’s my first day, and I’m late.” 

“Leon,” you stole his attention, “can you get us out of here?” 

“I can try.” 

He rose, allotting you the space to crawl out from beneath the desk. His gaze checked you over from top to bottom before confirming you were free of any injury. 

Or bite, you would later realize. 

Your first encounter with Leon was not worth writing home about. It was rather mundane, nothing noteworthy. Later questions would consist of a similar tone. 

“Are there other survivors?” He would inquire. 

“Not that I’m aware of,” was your honest answer. 

“Can you shoot?” 

“I’m a quick learner.” 

To hear his voice settled your nerves. Leon, at his young age and Rookie status, did not fulfill an image of a Knight in shining armor. He had his moments of uncertainty and doubt, sometimes naive in his optimism. Years down the road, you would regret not savoring this side of him, a side you would rarely ever see again. 

You rounded a corner, Leon’s flashlight causing you distress. You didn’t want to see what had been done, how others have been harmed. You belonged in a pristine lab, studying cures to diseases that caused suffering. 

Blood, gore, and the stench of decay slithered over your skin. That persistent sense of panic tightened your throat. 

A weight hauled into you, and you fell, your chin knocking hard against the floor. Your front teeth dug into your lip, the metallic taste of blood flooding your tastebuds. 

“Don’t move!” Leon shouted. 

Saliva dripped down your neck, breath harsh over your skin. Leon was confident in his aim, a bullet whizzing past your ear, the initial discharge sharp like the crack of a whip. The zombie who had barreled into you from behind rolled off your back, absent of a head. 

You attempted to scramble away only to falter. Excruciating pain spiraled up your calf, through your hip, the back of your neck - your body answering with a cry out. 

“Wait, not so fast,” Leon was by your side, helping you to rotate onto your back. He cursed beneath his breath, rummaging through a pouch at his hip. Gauze materialized in his palm, his jaw clenching as he analyzed your leg. 

“How bad is it?” You ventured

“It’s going to be okay,” he deflected, squishing the flashlight between his shoulder and cheek, wrapping your leg. “You were pushed on top of a broken chair leg . . . a piece of it - well, you know.” 

Before you could protest, strong arms were supporting you: one scooping beneath your legs, the other cradling your upper spine. He lifted you with ease. 

Survival instinct should have led him to leave you. At this point, you were nothing but a burden. There were no equations, tubes, or instruments where you could prove your worth. 

“We are going to leave together, got it?” 

Watching his profile, determination steeled his expression. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. This might have been the moment you fell for him, subconsciously. Risking his life, he carried you to the entrance of the precinct. Each step he took was a double-edged sword. 

He was carrying you to potential safety. But, the more steps he took, the shorter your journey together became. 

Leon’s warmth seeped through his uniform, the tense muscles sustaining both of your bodies were rigid against you. He trembled slightly, you felt it in the hands that grasped different portions of your frame. And his scent, rich with sweat, was sweetened with a cologne popular among adults your age. 

You two had to be near, if not the same, age. 

Months after this incident, it would be revealed that in fact you two were merely a year apart. 

Leon would drop you off on a bench at the entrance. He would promise he’d right whatever wrongs took place. He would leave you there for hours, and you’d be rescued by government agents who rammed the front doors. 

Paramedics would assess your injury while you were wrapped in blankets. Once you were identified, you would be asked to comply with further questioning. 

You didn’t have a choice, really. And on your first date with Leon, you two would recognize for once the government had provided you with a positive outcome. 

But, your first date with Leon would be close to two decades away. 

So, in the moment, you despised the idea. 

It was during your questioning of recent events the government would offer you a position as a researcher to combat bio organic weapons. You wanted to help, to prevent the horrors you had witnessed in Racoon City. That, and a kernel of curiosity had begun to expand. If you played your cards right, there was a slim chance you’d encounter Leon again. 

You hadn’t had the opportunity to thank him. 

Through your new position, you’d discover Leon was recruited as an agent for the D.S.O. His missions had him engaging with the T-virus more often than not, which would become your area of expertise. You’d pass him in the halls, in the cafeteria, and brief him on certain intel. 

Your journey was one laden with obstacles, detours, and unknown roads. How you ended up as his wife still baffled you to this day. 

You stifled a laugh behind a hand.

“What’s so funny?” 

Leon sat at the kitchen island in your home, the stem of his spoon twirling between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Nothing,” you quipped, turning so your rear cushioned you as you reclined against the counter. 

“It’s not nothing, gorgeous,” he smirked. 

Leon and the rasp of his voice always had arousal blossoming between your hips. 

You walked on over to stand next to him, your slight limp due to the injury all those years ago never healing correctly. 

His arm slid around your waist, hauling you onto his lap. As he had aged, Leon maintained his physique, somehow gaining muscle despite all the wear and tear the government had put him through. Your husband was adamant he still spend the majority of his time in the gym. Matter of fact, the breakfast you had procured had an extra dose of protein in it, just for him. 

“Tell me,” he urged, “secrets have never done anyone good.” 

“Thinking back,” you whispered, “to the day we first met.” 

“September 30, 1998.” 

“It’s a day I’ll never forget.”

If anyone is interested - I am open to creating a taglist

[dawnxjpg]

Holy shit he’s so sexc.

Image by @jaeon009 on tt

[thelonewolfdreamer]

Experiencing Aftercare with Husband Leon Headcanons

‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷

Pairings : husband!leon x wife!reader

Summary : after fucking you stupid, your husband, Leon, always make sure you are well taken care of.

Genre : 18+ mdni, nsfw, dirty talk, smut (only a little), language

‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚

• It always starts with desperateness for each-other, you, begging for his cock, and craving his hands all over you, after that: Leon isn't the type to go slow--in you if he needs you that bad, he had show you why exactly that is.

• Though he would always give a little warning upfront, 'baby, f'ck, I can't go easy on you', 'because today I need to fuck you but remember I still love you the most, I can't control 'yself because your cunt makes me f'ckin lose my self-control', 'you won't hate me, when I am done with you, right?'

• He doesn't just make love to you, he fucks you deep, like you are his 'filthy little slut', which is shocking to you per se, because you used to think you had love gentle love making, but now after marrying the love of your life here you were, drooling literally making a mess all over your greek-god husband.

• When Leon find himself in heat, the desire to feel you wrapped around him increases and he realizes he turns completely into a different person when he is inside you, because he literally doesnt remember fucking you stupid, he doesnt remember your legs shaking violently against his either side of his torso, he doesn't remember how you fucking chanted his name, as you kept begging for him to 'fuck you harder', and he definitely doesnt remember, how filthy his mouth gets, as he says, 'my pretty wife, is such a whore,' 'isn't she?', 'I am lucky man, to own a whore who is just mine', he gets so loud with you moaning your name, not caring if in morning you have had complaints from your neighbours, though you absolutely felt a little sorry for them, but anyways what he cares for is you, and that you get what you begged for, though, after that the only thing he remembers is the feel of your pulsing walls against his throbbing cock, and he remembers clearly, is your wetness slicking his cock and the loud squelching of his skin hitting against yours and after he is done, he remembers his semen dripping out of your hole, while he is still inside you, he remembers how he wipes it and feeds it to you and you hungrily take it, moaning around his thumb as you suck them clean.

• Though there's a reason you always feel special when he's done with you, after he used you thoroughly: and fucks you like a whore, then Leon, treats you like his favorite princess, his hands achingly gentle around your skin, as he cradles your face and plants kisses all over your face, as if you are the most precious thing to him (you obviously are) and this change in his demeanor is like a trophy of his love: you carry secretly, and of course, you're not complaining.

• Then, he doesn't pull his cock out of your hole straight away instead he rolls over on his back and pulls you on top of him and cradles you against his chest and presses a gentle kiss on your temple, which makes you smile and unconsciously and you confess 'how much you loved it', 'and how lucky you are to have him', he finally feels satisfied, 'I am the lucky one, sweetheart', then he praises you until your breath slows down against him, he says things like, 'amore, you did so good', 'I am sorry if I was a bit rough today' and lazily you had shook your head, making him, smile widely, then he sighs in relief, and plays with your hair until you fall asleep, as he sees you exhausted and spent over him, he gently straighten up himself and gently lays you on your back on the mattress, and as soon as he pull out of you, you frown in your sleep, which makes him chuckle deeply, then shaking his head he moves around the room preparing everything you had need to feel less sore from all the work you did.

• Finally he finds the soft towel he always keep in drawers for times like this, then he moisten it below the warm tap water then in few strides, bring it to you, and gently he cleans his cum that is still glistening out of your cunt, as he does it you shiver all over, but he keeps at it, wiping your inner thighs and your hole: until you are fully clean of the aftermath of you and him.

• Then he prepares the bath for you, testing the water with his hands, until its warm enough for both of you, then there is this little ritual where he decorates the water with rose petals scattering them completely, then he places few scented candles of your favourite fragrance around the bathroom, whose ember lights dance across the tiles making the cozy ambience settle into the room, when he is done there, he switches off the light, letting the room settle in orange hues of the fire.

• When your eyes finally flutter open and you sit upright, he hands you a glass of water, making sure you drink before doing anything else. Once you're finished, he scoops you up bridal-style and carries you toward the bathroom, quietly asking if you need to pee so he can wait outside. When you shake your head hazily, he simply pulls you tighter against his chest, and presses his lips on your hairs and guides you inside and draws you along with him into the bathtub.

• Then he lets you settle into the bath tub against him and with gentle hands, he washes your hair and carefully cleans your body, making you take sharp little breaths in pleasure, then he takes his time, to work the shampoo onto your scalp into circular motion and you groan and lean into his reverence, then slowly he starts to massaging the knots from your shoulders, and caressing every inch of your torso, not missing a spot.

• And somehow, his acts of devotion like this: makes you feel so loved and valued. his touch is always so tender and familiar makes your heart turn into a puddle then: his quiet care warms your entire nervous system entirely. By the time the two of you finish your bath, you feel completelt refreshed, cherished, and at ease in his presence.

• After the shower he lets you get dressed and quickly he cleans the room: so you can settle into it comfortably.

• when everything is done he had ask for you to wait a little for him, then he would cook you some food and fill you up with your favourite snack that is something other than his cock. (Pun intended).

• After that, Leon would brought food back to bed, settling beside you while the two of you shared it comfortably on the bed.

• Then between mid bites you had both found yourselves in warm conversations and by the time you were both finished, you realize, you were completely in love with him, and as you simply stare at him for a moment, without overthinking anything anymore, you lean closer and press a soft kiss to his mouth.

• which is just your way to say: a silent thank you for making you feel so loved, so cared for, in all the little ways that mattered the most, and seeing his lips twitching upwards, you know he knows it too, but then he shakes his head, and cradles your jaw on both of his palms, and with the seriousness in his tone, he says, 'its nothing, baby, just know you deserve more.' Feeling you getting all emotional he pulls you into a deep kiss, and he murmurs, 'I love you', into your mouth and you do the same, groaning those same damn words into his mouth.

• And that's how, your husband, shows his love for you after he fucks you stupid.

‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚꒰🍷💋ྀིྀི ꒱༘‧‧˚