𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; government agents were always built strong. but there was something about leon specifically that made tears run down your thighs… and made your breath stop
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; harsh language, smut, thigh grinding, unprotected p in v, creampie, choking, semi-public sex, size different
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬; choking ; size difference ; public sex
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; happy first day of kinktober! I spent a good portion of my (work) day reading all the day one posts. this was definitely a last minute decision to participate in kinktober this year but I’m so excited. happy spooky season
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3.94k
𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠; one of your girls ; the weeknd
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
There was something to be said when working with trained government agents. Not to mention being friends with agents was great. They always helped you get a heavy box down when you couldn’t reach or lift it. Always carried your bags for you when they got too heavy. They hardly let you do anything unassisted. It was heaven on earth compared to your previous job in food service. You were constantly being assisted. Their strength always on show. Muscles always flexing with even the smallest movements. The pure strength always caught your eye – even now, being plowed into over your desk.
It really started a few months ago. You’d been fed up with being a server on less than minimum wage at a local bar. You had a college degree and you just didn’t use it. It always sat dusty on your living room wall, silently judging you when you came home from a three am shift. There was nothing wrong with being a server. You actually had enjoyed it years ago. But now? It was degrading. The tight shirts and jean shorts you had to wear, the rude and creepily flirtatious clientele, the horrifically low pay (really, $2 an hour wasn’t acceptable anymore). You had decided enough was enough and called it quits. Your boss could find another piece of pretty ass to put up with the local drunks.
The road to being hired at the D.S.O was long and hard. You had put your resume out there, submitted hundreds of applications, attended dozens upon dozens of interviews and got nowhere. Just when you were about to give up hope and go shamefully crawling back to the bar, an email came in. That dreary July evening with rain pattering harshly against the windows of your one bedroom apartment, the soft glow of an old ‘80’s sitcom on mute in the background, another cheap frozen pizza in the oven. Your desktop computer lit up, the box monitor illuminating the space of the little alcove of the kitchen.
You’d been sadly drinking a cup of tea (spiked with liquor on this sad night, of course) when your gaze shot up. The warm mug cradled in your hands, you walked over, eyes squinted as you used the mouse to click on the email, the tab slowly loading and opening. In a rush because the oven only had a few minutes left, your eyes grazed over the email. And your heart had stopped. A shriek of joy escaped from your lips, your sudden fit of happiness causing the hot tea to lap over the side of the mug, scorching your skin.
With a hiss, you went back to reading the email in full detail this time. Setting the mug aside and shaking out your hand, your eyes locked onto the screen. Dear… we are pleased to inform you… see the attached file for information… please arrive at the office fifteen minutes prior to receive pre-employment paperwork… we are happy to have you on the team. You were employed. For the government no less. Needless to say, you treated yourself to a better dinner than frozen pizza.
For the past few months, everyone had been so kind and so helpful. Giving you tips on how to get things done more efficiently, offering to get you lunch, assisting with filing. It was so nice. Quiet and undramatic — a violent change from the bar you worked at.
You spent your days filing paperwork for FOS officers, sitting in a cushy office chair in a chilly air conditioned cubicle. It was nice, actually. Boring, but you’d take boring over getting beer poured down your shirt for a wrong order. What was nicer? Him.
You met Leon Kennedy officially the second week you’d been there. Apparently, he’d been away on a ‘mission’ and missed your initial arrival. You worked closely with the FOS officer assigned to him, Ingrid, and knew of him. But there he was, walking into the office cubicle you shared with her, tall and broad and swoonworthy.
It took your entire willpower for your jaw not to drop upon laying eyes on him. He was tall and pretty and blond and eyes so blue you wanted to drown in them. Not to mention his arms. God his arms. He was nice to you. Polite and friendly. He would often reach up and get a box you couldn’t reach, the fabric of his suit stretching over his biceps. He’d carry heavy boxes for you too — the weight nothing to him as he told you to add a third box to the stack in his arms.
It was hard not to stare at him whenever you saw him in the building. He was so kind to you. And you actually thought his jokes were funny. In a really dumb way. Ingrid or literally anyone else would roll their eyes. Not you. No, you laughed. Or smiled. Just because it meant he’d look at you.
One particular incident though, was what did you in. You’d come into work that day, the hours dragging by as you filed and typed and typed and filed. You needed a new box of paper, but it was high and the boxes were heavy and you’d been banned from using a chair because it ‘stressed’ Ingrid out too much. It was late, you had time to make up for a doctor's appointment earlier that week. And you didn’t think there was anyone else left on the floor.
Then someone cleared their throat. You stopped in your tracks as you stepped up on your office chair, one foot on the seat as you looked over your shoulder. There Leon stood, arms folded over his broad chest as he leaned against the doorframe.
“You know, I’m starting to think you want worker’s comp.” He deadpanned, staring at you head on.
Your cheeks went warm, caught in the act of using a cushioned swivel chair as a stool again. “I didn’t think anyone else was here.”
“There’s a stool in the custodial closet.” Leon added, pushing off the doorframe to step deeper into the room. His presence filled the space, and he’d only just stepped in.
“My key doesn’t open that door.” You said meekly, climbing off the chair.
Leon stepped closer, crossing the space with ease as he stopped beside you and reached up to grab a box of paper. His suit jacket was off — leaving him in just a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sweet merciful Lord help you. You damn near salivated at the sight of his biceps flexing.
“Why’re you still here anyway?” He asked as he set the box of paper on your desk, where you pointed for him to leave it. The action didn’t seem to phase him.
You shrugged non-committally, eyes looking everywhere but his. And he noticed. Of course he did — he was a trained government agent. And he was simply Leon. He noticed most everything. His eyes stayed on, studying. Like he was trying to figure you out. What made you nervous. Why you were nervous. Then his gaze followed yours.
A half smirk graced his lips, the corner turning up as he realized what you were staring at. Him — or more precisely, his arms. Yes, he knew he was large. He often forgot the size difference between him and other people. But here he was, broad and strong and tall. Of course you’d noticed the difference in size between you. He was built like he could throw you around. And he definitely could if he wanted to.
“You okay?” He asked, your name falling from his lips seeming to snap you back to reality. Oh shit, you were staring. A sharp ping of irritation ran through your blood as you saw his obviously knowing smirk.
“M’fine,” you mumbled, turning around to begin opening the box of paper. “Thanks for the help.”
Leon was a lot of things, and persistent was definitely one of them. He smiled to himself as he watched you become very clearly embarrassed, your back turning to him. He inched closer to where you stood in front of your desk, watching as you unpacked paper.
Your eyes snapped down at the sound of a thump, then his hand resting on the dark hardwood of your desk. His body loomed behind you, his arm right by your head. The smell and sight and feeling of him being so close made you dizzy.
“You sure?” He asked, voice dangerously soft and low. A tone that made your skin prickle in the most intense way. A way that made your traitorous cunt throb. You were on the clock, dammit, you couldn’t be soaked for your coworker.
You silently nodded, mouth and throat too dry to speak. This could be considered harassment, if you didn’t like it. There had been hints dropped. Very subtle hints on his end. But very obvious on yours. The way your eyes would linger on him. The way you smiled too wide or laughed too much at his jokes. The way you were so easily flustered around him. Yes, you had a work crush. So what?
The only problem was he’d noticed. Waiting to make a move. And now was the time it seemed. You were alone in the office, the halls dark, the bosses gone. It was just you and him. A titillating thought. One you liked.
You inhaled deeply, slowly turning around to face him, finding yourself caged in by his arms, both of his hands braced on the desk. You were dangerously close, breaths mingling. Your eyes, of course, traced down to flick between his biceps, then up to his eyes.
“Nervous?” He asked lowly. He was getting too much entertainment and joy out of this. “Don’t be, honey. It’s just me.”
The way he called you honey made your panties wetter. Oh you were fucked. Hopefully in more ways than one. His eyes flicked between your eyes and then to your lips. Like he wanted to kiss you. And you hoped he would.
“So pretty, you know. Walking around here in those skirts.” He mumbled, almost like he was talking to himself and not to you.
“You think I’m pretty?” You asked stupidly, voice coming out weak and disbelieving.
Leon nodded, one hand coming to trace down your arm. “Very pretty.”
Your breath caught in your throat. He thought you were pretty. Leon Kennedy thought you were pretty. He was standing here, flirting with you. Fingers grazing up and down your arm soothingly. Your guards were down, your heart fluttering and your cheeks warm. You wanted to thank him, but that sounded stupid as fuck.
“Thank you,” you whispered. Yep, it sounded as dumb out loud as it did in your head. You internally cringed as he smiled. Devilish and humoured.
“You’re welcome, honey.” He said, voice steady and constant. If he was nervous, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it.
He leaned a little closer, eyes flicking to your mouth again. Pretty and coated in a shiny chapstick he wanted to taste. He wanted to kiss you. But also didn’t want to be written up for harassment. He didn’t want an HR case. His record here so far was squeaky clean. Yeah, that good employee cop part of him still lived a little. But you made that part want to die too.
Leon’s eyes traced over your face, taking you in. So, so pretty. He’d noticed how pretty you were the day he met you. You were so hesitant around him. So nervous. But you had the prettiest goddamn smile he’d ever seen. Bright and sweet and warm. It melted his damaged soul.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, needing your permission. Because as much as he really liked you, he really didn’t want an HR case.
You froze, lips parting as you considered his question. He did not have to ask. He could have kissed you and you wouldn’t care. You’d think about it for the rest of your life. That’d be your vibrator prompt.
You nodded, swallowing thickly before you could speak. “Yes,” because somehow you knew he would need a verbal answer.
Leon smiled a little, his hand trailing up your arm to trace along your jaw, cradling the back of your neck. He half leaned in and half pulled you to him, his lips meeting yours.
Your knees instantly went weak. He was such a good kisser. His lips slotted between yours, teeth gingerly nipping at your bottom lip. It was enough to make you sigh into the kiss. That sound seemed to spur him on. Give him full permission to kiss you the way he wanted.
He sucked your bottom lip then ran his tongue along it, making you instinctively part your lips for him. His tongue was gentle but firm as it traced inside your mouth. You wanted to touch him back, your arm coming up to rest around his shoulders, the other resting on his chest. He inched forward, his chest pressing to yours, his knee slotting between your thighs.
The wood of your desk dug into your back, but you didn’t care. He was kissing you. His mouth continued to move along yours as your hands slid up and down his biceps appreciatively, fingers aching to squeeze. He smiled against your mouth before he pulled back.
Embarrassingly, your mouth chased his as your eyes peeled open. “What’s your obsession with my arms, baby?”
You froze, eyes wide as you met his gaze. He didn’t ask in a way that was accusatory or degrading. Just raw curiosity. Like he really didn’t understand why.
You swallowed, gathering your bearings after the single best kiss you’d ever had. “You’re just… you’re really strong.”
“Mhmm,” he nodded, “in the job description.”
You nodded, swallowing and wished he would go back to just kissing you again. But he didn’t. He just watched you. Waited for you to expand even more.
“You just always carry stuff for me. I like that. It’s nice,” you shrugged, internally cringing at the stupidness of your words.
“It’s the bare minimum,” he said softly. “You need help. And I like to help you. Any way I can.”
‘Any way I can’. Oh yeah, that had a double meaning. You inhaled sharply, biting down on your lip as you considered how you could ask for help. An idea did pop into your mind — small at first and unraveling into a full plan. You kept your eyes locked on his. His knee was still slotted between your thighs.
In an instant — because if you really considered it, you’d back out — you pressed down on his thigh. The friction and pressure was enough to make your breath hitch and your heart stammer. Leon’s eyes darkened, pupils widening and engulfing the ocean blue of his eyes.
“Fuck,” he whispered, almost inaudibly, and he dove in again. His mouth crashed against yours. Teeth clicked and noses bumped. It was a messy kiss, sloppy and sinful.
You pressed yourself down on his thigh again, Leon immediately initiative and pressing his thigh up harshly. Your breath caught in your throat, hands tightening on his biceps. Slowly and subconsciously, you began to grind down on his thigh. It had been months of stealing glances, of imagining what it’d be like to touch him and kiss him and feel him. Now that you were here, you’d take it all.
Leon’s hands grasped your hips, fingers harshly digging into the fat of your hips through the fabric of your clothes. He needed to be inside you.
He pulled back just a little, forehead resting against yours. “Can I…?”
Leon didn’t need to ask specifically for you to know what he meant. You nodded fervently, a small breathy yes falling from your lips. His gaze changed. Lust had long since clouded his mind.
In an instant, he turned you around, your front pressed to the edge of your desk. His hands grasped the bottom hem of your skirt. He harshly pulled it up, groaning lightly as he saw the damp spot on your panties when you bent more over the desk. God, you were so perfect.
“Shit, honey, haven’t even touched you yet.” Leon groaned out, fingers ghosting over the damp spot. A gasp fell from your lips.
He wished he could take his time with you. Get on his knees and make you come on his tongue at least twice and once on his fingers before properly fucking you. But the sight of you like this, his dick was straining against his slacks.
You heard the rustling of clothing and the sound of him unzip his pants, your hands braced on the desk, preparing for a proper fucking.
Leon’s hand was on your hip again, voice soft as he spoke, “you sure about this?”
You nodded adamantly again, a little uh-huh falling from your lips. He had your consent. And he was happy with that. So his hand gently pulled your panties to the side, the cool air hitting your soaked cunt and making you gasp.
The sound of him shuffling and pumping his cock a few times echoed in your ear, the feeling of him lining himself up. “Ready, baby?” He asked softly.
A tiny nod from you was all it took. He pushed into you. And fuck, he was big. Your mouth dropped open with silent screams, your eyes squeezing shut, head hanging low and forehead resting against the cool top of your desk. He went slow. Too slow. You pushed your hips back against him, silently urging him to speed it up.
And Leon did not need to be told twice. He bottomed out and then pulled back before slamming back into you. The force of his thrusts made little huffs and uh’s fall from your lips. Whines echoed from you, bouncing off the walls of the empty office.
“Oh God,” you whined, knuckles white from gripping the desk.
Leon huffed out a strained laugh, mumbling something akin to ‘no, just me’. You would have laughed if it weren’t for the increasing pleasure you felt. Your skin grew sticky with sweat, your heart racing, face warm. God he was fucking you stupid.
His hand trailed up your back, wrapping around the front of your neck and gently pulling you up and back against him. Then — in an action that actually made you dizzy — he wrapped his arm around your throat.
“Know you like ‘em so much, baby,” he murmured in your ear.
A disgustingly pathetic whine fell from your lips as he choked you with his bicep. Your hands wrapped around the corded muscles of his arm, nails digging into and making little crescents in his skin.
His thrusts had your hips bumping into the edge of the desk, your head thrown back and resting against his shoulder. His bicep around your neck was just enough — the pressure firm and rough, but not too much to make you pass out or anything. Though that didn’t sound too bad.
“Fuck, Leon,” you whimpered, getting desperate as you began to thrust back against him as he thrusted his cock into you. It was big. Thick enough that the initial stretch had burned. The tip kissed your cervix just slightly with every deep thrust. And you didn’t want it to stop.
“I know, baby. Doin’ so good,” he ground out, his own face buried in the crook of your neck. His arm around your neck was firm while his other hand gripped your hip. Hard enough there may have been bruises the next day. You didn’t care. Being marked up by him didn’t sound so bad.
You gasped, whines echoing from your mouth as his hand snaked down, fingers firmly drawing tight circles around your clit. And you swore you saw fucking stars.
“Gonna come,” you gasped out, now fully grinding yourself back on him, nails digging hard into his forearm.
“Mmhm, you do that, honey,” he encouraged softly, his lips latching onto your neck. His thrusts were deep and hard and you swore you could feel every vein.
A few more deep thrusts and circles drawn around your clit and you came. With a gasp, your walls clamped down around him, your vision going white. You shrieked, his name echoing off the walls of the empty room. He wasn’t far behind, really he’d been holding off for you.
Leon’s arm tightened around your neck, the action drawing out your already earth shattering orgasm. He groaned, face buried in your neck as he spilled into you. He thrusted a few more times, grinding his cum into you.
You both fell boneless against the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool wood in a cure. His forehead rested against your spine, his arm snaking out from around your neck for his hands to smooth up and down your sides. He pressed featherlight kisses along your shoulders and spine.
The moments were quiet when he pulled out of you, swiftly pulling your panties back in place, trapping his cum in you. He helped you stand straight, hands gingerly running over your face, assuring you were okay and it was good for you. He promised a proper date. Dinner that weekend with a nice wine and good food. He knew a place.
“Whenever you need my help, ask me, baby.” Leon later teased lowly as he assisted you in carrying a box of files to your car.
Leon was definitely the only person you’d ever ask for help from now on.
Rose getting to the "YOUR NOT MY REAL DAD" stage with Chris and leaving to go hang with her cool nonchalant stepfathermother Leon and Chris is standing in the corner like
