You're worth protecting
[RE9 Leon Kennedy x fem!Reader]
Summary: Sex pollen galore, but listen: you and Leon both work at the DSO and you hate each other kicking my feet, giggling
Masterlist
Notes: Thank you guys so so much for 5- *checks notes* 600?! How did that happen so fast? I swear I started writing right away.
word count: 4.5k
Warnings: nsfw, sex pollen, non-con if you squint, age gap, younger reader, semi-public sex (sorry Sherry), oral m!receiving, bratty reader, slight daddy kink, orgasm denial at the verge of death, subby Leon?, Leon So much cum Kennedy receiving the blowjob of his life and seeing god holy shit what even is this
K was the eleventh letter of the alphabet. You knew because you had been counting down ever since you had started working with the DSO. K like Kennedy.
“Kennedy, you’re with the junior.” Of course. Every single time you got paired up with fucking Kennedy.
“The junior has a name,” you murmured, shaking your head, shooting a look at the senior agent.
He looked pissed. Like being teamed up with you was the worst thing that could have ever happened to him.
You had no idea what you had done to deserve this level of hatred but ever since you had walked through the doors of the DSO, it burned bright like a fire in him, apparently. He couldn’t even stand looking at you most days. Like now, grinding his teeth, avoiding your gaze at all costs.
You and me both, old man, you thought.
At first you had tried to be friendly with him. He was kind of your superior after all. Not directly, but all junior agents answered to the more experienced ones, especially if they were a founding member.
But lo and behold it became clear that he thought you were less than capable. At first you thought he was nothing but a misogynistic asshole. But then you realised he wasn’t like that with the other female agents. Only you. It seemed personal. Like he thought specifically you had no idea what you were doing, which pissed you off even more.
It hurt a little, if you were being honest. Leon Kennedy was well regarded by everyone. You wanted him to think highly of you, too.
And you weren't a rookie by any means. Actually you were the most competent agent in your field, but something about working on a mission with Agent Kennedy made you feel like you didn't even know how to do the basics. Probably because he never let you do anything on your own and was always there to take the load off your shoulders. As if you were a damsel in distress. You hated it.
It was dangerous as well. You were supposed to cover for him too. But he never let you. You had tried plenty of times.
The mission at hand was retrieving some biochemically altered plants from an underground Umbrella facility. Ones that were suspected to spread airborne pathogens, infecting whoever was unlucky enough to breathe them in.
“Let’s go then,” Kennedy growled, pushing out of his chair, already walking off to the armory without so much as looking at you. You involuntarily sank deeper into your seat. Something about Kennedy made you feel smaller than you actually were, younger too, less experienced. Incompetent.
You drew in a determined breath and followed him down the hallway.
This was the mission to change that. You were going to show him how capable you were, once and for all. And finally Leon Kennedy would tell you that you were doing a good job.
After a whole bunch of briefings because of the high risk of contamination on your mission, you and Kennedy were in the field, Sherry Birkin on your earpiece.
“Sherry, we're in the warehouse.” Kennedy murmured, walking in ahead of you as if you weren’t even there. Why didn‘t he just go on these missions alone? He was so shit with other people, and especially you.
Your determination to prove yourself to him had disappeared as soon as he had once again, come between you and your first target, eliminating it for you. It was an unarmed janitor. As if he could make it any more clear that he thought you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.
Kennedy didn't only walk in ahead of you, no. He held the door open for you as well, as if he suddenly remembered the liability he was constantly dragging around.
“I can open doors myself, you know,” you hissed.
“You’re slow. You need to keep up or you’ll get yourself killed.”
“If you didn't run ahead like that all the time, I wouldn’t have to.” You asshole, you wanted to add but you remembered he was your superior after all. Not your direct one, but still.
“Check the boxes,” Sherry said over your earpiece. “I need to know the serial number to find the one we’re looking for.”
You nodded, grabbing one of them immediately. Too slow, you were going to show him 'too slow'.
Kennedy did a double take. "Don't touch that."
“She said check the boxes. Do you need a hearing aid?“ you hissed, getting out your knife and slipping it under the lid.
“She said she needs the serial number,” he retorted, rushing to your side, his hands closing around yours, halting your movements. You ignored the way your heartbeat kicked up at his touch. Kennedy always made you nervous whenever he was near, that was nothing new.
“If you had listened during the briefings you would know that they printed false serial numbers on the outside to lead us astray,” you spat, struggling against him.
It was pointless. The man was pure muscle, his grip like a vice. But you tried anyway because you were full of rage. He wouldn’t let you do anything. Not even what you were being paid to do. Not even checking a god damn label.
Because of your little tussle with Kennedy your knife got wedged deeper into the box than you intended.
“Let go,” you hissed through gritted teeth.
“You let go, junior,” Kennedy growled in return.
“Whatever you do,” Sherry’s voice sounded over your earpiece. “Do not puncture the—”
Kennedy pushed down on your wrist too hard and you yowled, your hand slipping off the hilt. “You’re breaking my wrist, asshole.”
Without you to counter his movement, Kennedy pried the lid open in one swift motion, a cloud of greenish yellow pollen erupting from the box, coating his entire face. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“—plastic inside. As far as we know, they’re probably trying to contain some sort of highly infectious microspores.”
Under all the pollen you still saw a muscle tick in Kennedy’s jaw. He wiped the dust off his face. “I said don‘t touch it.”
"Sorry," you stammered, cheeks hot, realising you had called a senior agent an asshole to his face. You wanted to disappear off the face of the earth.
Kennedy sneezed. “Sherry, what if we did? And got the plant shit all over our face?” He sneezed again.
“Wash it off with water immediately and check inside the box for the serial number. I‘ll try and find out what it is,” she replied. “But be careful not to get any more of that stuff on you.”
Leon sneezed a third time and fumbled for his canteen, unscrewing the top and dousing himself with water. He shook his head like a dog, droplets flying everywhere.
“I seriously hope for you this isn’t poisonous,” he hissed, taking a sip of water for good measure.
You held up a hand. “If you had just let me do what I needed to do, you wouldn’t be covered in chemically fucked up plant right now,” you snapped, slipping on a pair of gloves and lifting the front of your compression shirt over your nose and mouth, before approaching the box. You had enough of him babysitting you. This was ridiculous.
“Excuse me, what?” He whipped around. “I’m a senior agent, you should listen to me and not think you know better all the time. Look where that got us both.”
You carefully lifted the lid, dodging another whiff of pollen escaping, scanning the plastic inside for the serial number.
He blamed you for this. If you ever had a chance of Kennedy respecting you, there it went. And with his standing in the DSO, you would never be able to get a foot on the ground in the organisation. You’d better update your CV asap. They would absolutely sack you for this.
You closed the lid as soon as you found it, sealing it shut with duct tape to be safe. “Sherry, the serial number is AV-4/B.” You slipped off your gloves and tossed them to the side.
“Alright,” she said. “Are you both contaminated or just Leon?”
“Just Agent Kennedy,” you replied. You would also call him Leon like every other person in the DSO but he insisted on keeping you on a last name basis. So you never dared.
“I’m fine, Sherry,” Kennedy cut in, splashing some more water on his face and rubbing it onto the back of his neck too. You didn’t miss the way he propped himself up against the wall with his hands. “Besides, we have to keep going.”
“Leon, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sherry said. “We have no idea what this might do to you. It’s too dangerous.”
Agent Kennedy was breathing heavily and you looked him up and down. He didn’t seem changed, but you agreed with Sherry. You stepped closer to him, feeling his forehead.
He flinched like the touch pained him. “Don’t touch me.”
“Holy shit,” you breathed. “Sherry, he’s burning up.”
“Get him somewhere you’re both safe. I’ll try and figure out what he was infected with.”
Kennedy shook his head, little droplets still slipping from his hair.
“You heard her,” you said, grabbing his shoulder, but he shrugged you off.
“I said don’t touch me, junior” he hissed.
You scanned your surroundings for a safe place where you could hunker down until you got the all-clear from your dispatcher.
“In here,” you said, opening the door to the nearest shipping container, trying to push Agent Kennedy inside.
He whimpered at your touch. The invincible agent Kennedy whimpered. This was bad.
“Oh shit,” you hissed, barring the door from the inside.
“No, no, no,” Leon protested. “Don’t lock yourself in here with me.”
You huffed. “Shut up, Leon.” Another inappropriate way of speaking to a senior agent, and first name basis as well. But you were done for anyway. “I’m not a damsel in distress, I know what I’m doing.”
He winced, lowering himself down to sit against the wall. “I never said you didn’t.”
You whipped around to face him. “You didn’t have to, you’re always on my ass, no matter what I do.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, ridding himself of his weapons and harness, tossing them to the side. “Can you blame me? It's a good ass.”
You did a double take. Kennedy was seriously unwell. He coughed, clearly trying to cover up what he had just said.
You crouched down beside him and he flinched again.
“Don’t come so close,” he panted. “I can smell you.”
“What do you mean, you can smell me? I don’t stink, I showered before we went out on this mission,” you said, offended.
Leon’s brow knitted together in helplessness and he leaned his head against the wall. “I’m serious, back off.”
“No way,” you insisted, fumbling for the canteen on your belt, screwing the top off and offering it to him.
He eagerly grabbed it, drinking the water inside, some of it spilling down his prominent Adam's apple as he did.
Despite him being old enough to be your father—and an absolute asshole to be around—you couldn’t deny that Leon Kennedy was an exceptionally handsome man. Hot even.
Right now, literally. He was sweating so much, wet patches had formed all the way down the back of his tactical shirt.
“Take it off,” you ordered, as you began to unlace his boots.
He shook his head, lips pressed together, like he was fighting something invisible inside his own body.
You slipped off both his boots, tossing them to the side, grabbing where his shirt was tucked into his tactical pants. “I said, take it off, Leon. Don’t be so stubborn.”
He struggled against you, trying to get a hold of your hands, but you managed to pull his shirt out of his pants at least, grazing his crotch when he tried to stop you.
“Holy shit,” you breathed.
You had just touched your superior's dick.
Not your direct superior, but that didn’t matter. Because you also hadn’t touched his flaccid dick. No, no. Leon Kennedy was rock hard beneath those tactical pants.
“I’m sorry,” he whined, squirming, desperately trying to get comfortable.
You stared at him. “So when you said you could smell me you meant—”
“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, swallowing hard, his throat bobbing. He looked like he was in agony.
“My vagina,” you concluded.
Leon bit back a moan and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “It’s the plant,” he whispered.
“So it’s what? Some kind of super potent viagra?” you said, still tugging at his shirt.
“Stop, what are you doing?” He tried to push away your hand but as soon as your skin touched his, a groan slipped past his lips and he clasped his hands behind his back.
“Leon, I know you’re incapable of listening to me in any situation, but this is serious. You’re burning up and I don’t care that you have a boner right now,” you hissed. “You were infected with some kind of chemically altered shit. Take your fucking shirt off.”
He finally caved, letting you slip his shirt over his head. You drew in a sharp breath. Leon Kennedy shirtless was a sight to see. Taut skin stretching over chiselled abs, beefy pectorals, perfect for propping yourself up on while you were riding him.
You touched your chest, feeling for your heartbeat and breathing. Were you contaminated too?
Oh. No, you were just horny for a man old enough to be your father.
Leon’s nose crinkled and he turned his head away from you. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” you asked.
“Getting wet, I can smell it.”
You rubbed your forehead. This was going to make for one awkward as hell debrief. “I hope we don’t have to write a report on this,” you murmured and pressed your earpiece, calling for Sherry. No one answered.
You took out your knife and cut off a piece of your shirt, exposing a sliver of your belly.
“What are you doing?” Leon rasped.
“Relax,” you shushed him, folding the fabric carefully and wetting it with water from your canteen. You scooted closer to Leon, dabbing his forehead with your makeshift cloth. His eyes fluttered shut. "I hate to break it to you, but you're in no state right now. You're going to have to let me take over."
“You hate me,” he huffed.
“You hated me first,” you countered, flipping the cloth over so the new, cool side was pressed against his forehead.
“I don’t though,” he rasped. “I think you’re one of the best agents we have.”
You shook your head. “You’re delirious. We’ll talk about that when you’re less animalistic.”
He chuckled and you joined in.
A hand shot forward, grabbing your wrist. “Stop that.”
“What?”
“Laughing. Smiling, everything.” He writhed, palming his cock with his other hand, desperately trying to get comfortable.
Your breath hitched in your throat. It was the plant, you reminded yourself. This wasn’t really him.
“Anytime you laugh in a meeting it’s torture for me,” he whispered.
“Is that why you never talk to me?” you breathed, continuing to dab his forehead, the fact that his hand was still clamped around your wrist not escaping you.
He gave a shy nod.
“So when you say you don’t hate me…” you went on.
“The second you set foot in the DSO headquarters I knew you were going to be my downfall,” he rasped.
You paused, watching the way he was leaning into your touch involuntarily, like he couldn’t help himself. “Did you request to be partnered up with me? Is that why I’m on missions with you every single time?”
He nodded again and you leaned closer to him. “I needed to ensure your safety myself. I don’t trust anyone else with it.”
You bit back another comment about how you didn’t need anyone to take care of you. You had a feeling your capacity of knocking a grown man out cold had nothing to do with his instinct to protect you.
“Leon, if this is some kind of enhanced viagra, I can help you.”
He shook his head, his jaw working. “I would never ask that of you.”
“I’m offering. And in a way this is … necessary,” you whispered. “But if you’d rather do it yourself, I can look the other way and make sure you’re okay while you do it.”
"Fuck no, that’s way worse," he grunted, a rosy blush creeping up on his cheeks. "I'm not gonna let you watch me jack off."
“Alright, it’s settled then,” you said, hands moving down to the buttons of his tactical pants, undoing them one by one. Your mouth watered with anticipation.
You would be lying if you said you had never imagined what Leon S. Kennedy looked like naked. Or what he would be like in bed. Matter of fact, the second you had seen him, walking into the DSO on your very first day you thought he was the most attractive man you had ever set eyes on. The fact that he was so much older, making it all the more forbidden and enticing.
Leon’s hand shot forward again in an attempt to keep your hands from doing what they were doing. “Don’t. This is so unprofessional,” he pleaded and you felt him twitch beneath your palm. He was hanging by a thread.
You sighed. “Yes, it is. Very much so. But do you not want me to?”
He bit his lower lip and his restraint finally snapped. His hands fell down to his sides and he let himself sink lower against the wall, giving in.
Your hands became shaky when you pushed his pants off his hips. What would this be like at the office?
Avoiding each other at all costs? Not looking when the other person spoke? So business as usual.
His cock sprang free and you gasped. It was the most beautiful cock you had ever seen: thick, long and just as veiny as Leon's forearms.
"Oh fuck," you breathed. How was he the one under the spell of those damn plants when you could feel yourself grow wetter by the second?
Leon whimpered again, covering his eyes with his arm. Right. Heightened sense of smell.
You closed your hand around his base, squeezing him. That was already enough to draw a breathy moan out of him.
The great Leon S. Kennedy. Putty in your hands.
You gently spread the pre-cum that had gathered on the tip with your thumb, giving him a tentative pump.
“Oh fuck,” Leon groaned. “I’m so sensitive. It’s not usually like that.”
A grin tugged at your lips. Was he now? No time like the present to take a little revenge for all those times he had made you feel like a child during your missions. It was too easy.
You leaned down, gently running your full lips along the underside of his cock, as you slowly pumped him, gripping him tightly.
His breath hitched and his head shot up, staring at you with half-lidded eyes, brows drawn together. “You don’t have to do that, you can just ah—”
You shut him up with an open mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock and a hand slipped into your hair.
“I always exceed expectations, Agent Kennedy,” you whispered, breath fanning over his most sensitive body part. “If you ever let me do what I’m being paid to do on our missions, you would know that already.”
Leon whimpered and you licked up his entire length in one broad stroke. His hips bucked and the grip on your scalp tightened.
“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he whined and you chuckled, looking up at him.
“Oh, I will make it harder,” you promised, closing your lips around his tip, hollowing your cheeks.
Leon growled, drawing in a sharp breath.
You hummed in response, swirling your tongue around his tip, continuing to work him with your hand, as you french-kissed his cock.
“Oh fuck, that feels so good,” Leon breathed, his cock twitching in your mouth. You released him with a lewd popping sound, looking at him with lustful eyes.
He stared at you, mesmerised, his other hand coming down to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your lower lip, all wet and glistening with your saliva and his pre-cum.
You grinned. “Do you want it sloppy or neat?”
He chuckled, dipping his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on. “Has anyone ever said neat?”
You shook your head. “Never happened.”
Leon grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed you back down on his cock, thrusting his hips up. You eagerly took him deeper into your mouth, saliva running down the sides, gathering at the base of his cock.
“Fuck yes, just like that,” he groaned, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged, but that only meant more saliva to lubricate for a softer glide.
“I’ve been thinking about this in meetings all the fucking time,” he confessed, moaning loudly. “That’s why I couldn’t look at you. Because I kept thinking about what you’d look like choking on my cock.”
A moan racked through you at his confession, sending vibrations through his entire body, making him draw in a sharp breath. You came back up to catch your breath.
“What else were you thinking about?” you asked, puffy lips spreading your saliva all over his length. “Because when I first saw you, I thought about how I wanted you to bend me over your desk and fuck me.”
Leon groaned. “Don’t say that. I’m old enough to be your father.”
You shot him a fiendish grin. “Daddy.”
You sank down on him again.
“Holy shit,” Leon panted, squirming underneath you, cock twitching. You swallowed around him, raking your fingernails over his abs.
“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, his breathing coming ragged, his fingers in your hair tightening, pulling at it ever so slightly.
Tongue pressed to the underside of his cock, you moved up, sucking him into a vacuum for the grand finale, spit leaking past your lips.
"Oh fuck, just like that." He gritted his teeth, moments from losing it. "Don't st—"
You pulled your mouth off him.
Leon's eyes flew open and he let out most pathetic sound you had ever heard. His hips bucked, cock thrusting up at—nothing.
You chuckled. "You didn't think I'd let you cum that easily, did you?"
He whimpered, brows knitting together. "What are you doing?"
You shook your head. "This whole time, you make me feel like I'm a good for nothing rookie and now you think I'm just gonna suck you off like nothing happened?"
He swallowed, trying to catch his breath. "This is serious, I could die from this."
A smirk tugged at your lips. This was too good.
You shrugged. "See, if I were in your situation, I would ask nicely."
"Junior..."
You clicked your tongue, scoldingly wagging your finger in front of his face.
He let out a laboured breath, fists clenching at his sides. Oh, he hated this. For a moment, you almost backed down.
But you were going to have to look for a new job anyway, so fuck it.
"Say 'please'," you purred, sticking out your tongue, almost close enough to reach, close enough to run over his length, tracing every vein.
"This is very unprofessional," he whined, eyes never leaving you. "We are supposed to work together to ensure mission success."
You raised an eyebrow at him. "Unprofessional? Leon, you have your dick in my face." You licked his tip and he let out another broken moan. He was at the very edge of sanity. "Besides, I feel like it's not me who needs a lesson in cooperating with my assigned mission partner."
He thrust his hips upward again, desperately pushing himself against your face. You leaned back.
"Say it." You leaned in closer, watching his muscles ripple underneath his skin, a sheen glint of sweat coating his entire chest. "Fucking beg for it, Leon."
"Please, okay? Please make me cum, I'm fucking begging you, I can't take this anymore," Leon whined. "Please let me cum in your mouth."
You closed your lips around him, making eye contact as you did. Leon looked like he was about to die. Because of the plant or because of you was hard to tell.
Hollowing your cheeks, you picked up right where you had left off, sucking, licking, lapping up every bit of precum and restraint he had left in him. Every single muscle in his body was taut like a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.
His lips fell open and he let out a strangled moan, cock twitching inside your mouth. Your hand moved down to cup his balls, tight and ready to release all he had into you and you pushed down on his length, swallowing around him.
He cried out, grabbing the back of your head and pushed himself impossibly deeper into your throat, making your eyes water.
"Oh fuck," he panted and you tried to relax your throat, failing, gagging on his cock.
Leon came with a moan loud enough to echo through the entire shipping container and you desperately tried to come back up for air, thick ropes of white coating your tongue, some of it spilling out the corners of your mouth.
This was sloppy as hell. Cum dripped all over his tactical pants and down your chin as you kept sucking him through his orgasm.
“Fuck, you look so beautiful like that,” Leon breathed, cock twitching, giving you one last bit of cum to lap up. Your eyes fluttered shut at the salty taste. Why did he taste so good?
Despite the state of you, you licked him clean and pressed a parting kiss to his now softened tip. You sat up, both your breaths coming out ragged. Cum trickled down the collar of your compression shirt and tears were beginning to dry on your cheeks.
Oh, this debrief was going to be hell for everyone involved.
Leon’s chest was heaving, as he came down from his high and—his infection.
"I don't know what to say," he panted, staring straight ahead.
"Me neither," you replied, shyly backing away, sinking down against the wall next to him, wiping your mouth and chin with your sleeve. Fuck it. This was a whole mess anyway. And you weren't talking about the shirt.
“I..." Leon started, pausing. "Good job, agent."
You chuckled dryly. What the hell were you thinking? Playing with him like that in a life or death situation? This was bad. What had gotten into you? You could drag your ass straight to HR after this, cum stained shirt and everything.
"I feel like I owe you dinner,” Leon murmured, wrinkling his forehead.
Your eyebrows shot up. “Thanks, but I just ate,” you whispered, mechanically.
You and Kennedy looked at each other from the corner of your eyes, waiting for each other's reaction.
“Agents? Agents are you there?” Sherry’s voice over your earpieces made you both jump. Leon frantically pulled up his pants. “Leon? Are you okay?”
“Sherry,” you rasped. “Please tell me you didn’t hear any of that.”
“Nobody heard a thing,” she replied, voice a little shaky.
Leon grabbed his earpiece. “What do you mean nobody? Sherry, who else is there?”
a/n: this is holy water
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