Hi all! I'm BladeStar, they/them. I'm a multifandom writer and lover of sexy fictional men. I'm reblog-heavy but also post original written content on here.
I enjoy smut and dark/dead dove content, so be warned! I will make sure to label things appropriately, too.
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MINORS DNI!!
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Leon Kennedy Masterlist
Sandor Clegane Masterlist
Ashley Graham Masterlist
Original Work Masterlist
Screenshot Compendium
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Requests are CLOSED!
Request rules:
SFW and NSFW allowed
Dead dove content allowed
Requests sent to me should not be sent to others
I reserve the right to say no to requests
Fandoms & Characters I'll do Requests for:
Game of Thrones (TV show) - Sandor Clegane
Resident Evil (Games & CGI Movies) - Leon Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Monsters from the games
what a beautiful time of year everyone is growing veegtables for me spacifically, one problem though you need to make fences shorter im sure its a mistake but i cant reach some of them
new chapter! this one is shorter than usual, but that's because i am behind on my writing schedule with life getting really (and i mean really) busy 😖 but!! you get some luis pov for a change, because he's the best 😚
aaaand below you get a fanart? 3d art? idk what to call it, but it's basically me finally getting to play with EMV engine on re4 and posing leon and ashley like my little barbies lmaooo :') the result? nora's pov from the previous chapter 😝 it was so fun editing in the bruises later ehehe
shoutout to @sammimi19 @12soap34 @theebladestar for proofreading ✨
Joder.
Luis is peering at the scene with eyes as wide as saucers, his focus shifting from the broken door on the floor, to the agent with the bruised face, to the woman with the bleeding knuckles. He can't even begin to understand what's happening, especially with the guilty look they both share and wait—why is Leon’s crotch damp?
The Spaniard isn't sure if that means the grown man pissed himself or jizzed his pants, but he doesn't have time to contemplate either outrageous possibility as his eyes land on the splintered wood once again.
“Who—” he begins, only for his words to catch in his throat. Then, focusing his gaze on the suspiciously guilty looking man, he accuses. “Leon, did you do this? What the hell is going on?”
The latter, who has seemingly refused to make eye contact until this point, looks at him with glacial blues, his jaw tense. “Yeah.”
At the confirmation, Luis’s face visibly sinks, his lips pursing in a mix of anger and dread. He turns to Nora who looks increasingly concerned, her eyes drifting between the two men like she's anticipating something bad to happen.
“Cariño… Did he break in to hurt you?”
The question thickens the already heavy air, the woman growing visibly uncomfortable at hearing it. It doesn't take a genius to come to the conclusion that the blonde came with nefarious reasons. Luis was already previously suspecting something happened between them, but this is a lot worse than anything he would have expected. Although, he is still confused how Nora managed to defend herself so effectively against the exceptionally skilled agent.
Leon, who was observing quietly, suddenly scoffs, like the question offends him deeply. He finds it particularly ironic considering the state of his face. He came here to help—he would never hurt the girl. Not again, at least.
“He was about to leave,” Nora murmurs quietly, and he can immediately tell there is a hint of shame in her tone.
“But why did he come here? Why did he break my door? And why does he look like that?” Luis persists, frustration building inside him.
“I came here to talk,” the agent finally speaks again, his voice hoarse from the state of his throat. “We talked.”
It’s the other man’s turn to scoff, but before he can say anything, Nora gives him a concerned look that clearly says ‘don’t’ and it feels like a splash of cold water to the face. He only now truly realizes the insanity of the situation, but most importantly, the potential danger looming.
Leon is a government man with many connections, not to mention his physical capabilities. The fact he came to his apartment and destroyed his bedroom door holds a lot of implications—the man is threatening, to say the least.
With the thought in mind, Luis doesn't think twice before reaching out a hand to the girl.
“Nora… Come here,” he whispers with his eyes locked on the agent.
She moves, to Leon’s great dismay, placing her palm in the Spaniard’s and giving it a squeeze. It makes the blond want to throw up. This has to be some kind of joke. How the hell does he get beat up and strangled to the brink of death, only to be labeled as the bad, scary guy in the end? All because he wanted to fix his mistakes. It's unfortunate Nora doesn't understand that yet.
He hones in every single atom in his body not to rip her hand from Luis’s, darting his gaze away with a jaw clenched so tight he might crack a molar. Then, by the power of a true miracle, he walks out into the hallway, not a single additional word uttered to the duo. Though, he doesn't leave without a featherlight brush of his shoulder against Nora’s that sends a jolt of electricity through his veins, and hers.
She clearly doesn't want him to stay, and he was leaving anyway so he might as well now not to end up breaking the Spaniard’s face in. He’s just not sure how he’s supposed to stay away after what happened with the young woman. Her wetness still staining his jeans serves as undeniable proof that he did not hallucinate the entire ordeal. She hurt him—badly—and she liked it. Enough to bring her to orgasm, in fact. It feels like a fever dream, but it's one he hates to wake up from as he heads out.
When he leaves through the front door, wiping blood that's still dripping down his chin, Leon can't help but smile faintly at the lingering feeling of her body against his.
Luis keeps his uncast arm wrapped around Nora’s shoulders as they settle on the couch, their figures illuminated by the lamp in the corner of the otherwise darkened apartment. It doesn't take long for the girl’s eyes to glisten when they sit in silence for a moment, her blood stained hands resting on the cushions for a split second before she retreats them with a muttered apology. But it's too late, the fabric is stained, and that seems to be the drop of water that breaks the dam.
Sobs shake her body as she looks down at the smudged blood that she futilely tries to scrub. She's not even sure if it's from her knuckles or his face, but either way, guilt and shame eat her whole when she realizes the mess she has brought upon Luis. The latter’s expression grows more concerned at her choked cries, and he pulls her into a hug which she instantly melts into.
“Shh… No pasa nada, todo va estar bien,”* he murmurs softly into her hair.
*“It’s okay, everything is going to be fine.”
The man finds himself caught between offering her comfort and asking questions he desperately wants answers to. But he waits until her sobs quiet into soft sniffles, before he finally pulls back to meet her eyes.
“Cariño… I need you to tell me what's going on. No more secrets.”
She looks up at him with a trembling lip, unsure of what to say or not say. What would he think of her if he found out the whole truth? She can't risk a repeat of grueling history.
“I can't tell you everything,” she speaks honestly, looking down with guilt.
Luis exhales through his nose, then lets his arm slide from her shoulders to rub his face. He looks torn. On one hand he wants to help the woman, but on the other, he realizes doing so is putting him at risk, which he isn't sure he's willing to take without knowing the details.
He sighs, holding his head in his palm. “I hope you understand this isn't easy for me.”
Nausea ripples through Nora as shame overtakes her. She feels utterly selfish for burdening her only friend in this world with her bullshit without even telling him the truth. Her fists tremble, crimson now crusted on her knuckles, and she decides to finally speak out.
“In the village… Leon, he—” her voice cracks, already struggling to continue. “He…”
Luis’s frown deepens, and he reaches out again, this time holding her hand in his. “Did he hurt you, cariño?”
She wants to answer, tell him what the man she idolized did to her, but her throat tightens involuntarily, so she settles on nodding. She hears the other’s breath audibly hitch, and he leans closer, his eyes filled with both concern and undeniable hints of anger.
“Did he touch you?”
The implication of the questions is obvious, and yet, Nora isn't sure how to respond. No, is the first answer that comes to mind. He didn't force himself on her—not in that way. But she can't deny the method he used to hurt and humiliate her was oddly intimate. He could have caused her pain in many different ways, but he chose one that has clear erotic connotations. Or to her, it does at least.
Still, answering ‘yes’ feels wrong too, especially after what happened earlier where he offered himself completely for her to do with as she pleased. Even in that moment, he didn't touch her sexually, despite her loud orgasm that she still doesn't understand how it even happened. Her mind is a complete blur of emotions at the memory, and she finds it so difficult to come up with an answer to Luis’s simple question, that she blurts out the first answer that feels right.
“Not like that…” she pauses, taking in a shaky breath. “But he hurt me.”
And there it was. Out there in the open. She knows she can't take it back now, and she prays that she won't feel the need to. Luis doesn't say anything for a moment, and she's worried he might prod further, or worse—what if he doesn't believe her? But all her doubts fade away when he embraces her as close as he can with his casted arm between them. He hugs her so tight, it knocks the wind out of her for a moment, but she clutches him just as close.
With his palm cradling the back of her head, Luis’s voice is rough when he speaks. “I’m so sorry, cariño… I suspected something was wrong, but this is… Joder.”
Tears cloud her vision with new fervor, falling down her already damp cheeks and wetting his button up’s collar. “I’m sorry—I didn't know he'd come here. I didn't mean to cause trouble—”
“Hey,” Luis retorts firmly, “none of that. If that psycho hurt you and chased you all the way here to harm you again, then it's not your fault, you hear me?”
She sniffles, pulling back to wipe the snot running down her philtrum. “You’re not gonna ask why he did it?” she whispers barely audibly.
He sighs, his hand rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Nora, there is no reason for a man to ever hit a woman. Ever.”
That stuns her for a moment. His words are so simple, and they're ones she has known and repeated to herself all her life, so why does it feel like she's hearing them for the first time now? She has spent the past week ruminating over and over about the day her entire world quite literally changed, and she wondered many times if she was partially to blame. After all, Leon’s reality will never be the same now that he knows the truth, and Nora has no idea how one even processes that kind of information.
But Luis is right. He still had no true, valid reason to ruthlessly belt her.
“I wish I could tell you more,” she murmurs after a moment. She knows it sounds unnecessarily cryptic, but she means it. If Luis knew of the truth, it would lift a massive weight off her shoulders, no longer having to lie about her past and origins. But she's still too afraid to share it.
“I’m just glad you're safe. I’m happy you defended yourself.”
He sounds impressed, but the truth is not nearly as outstanding. “He let me,” she mutters, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “He let me hurt him back as some kind of atonement...”
“Es un maldito loco*… I knew he was hiding something behind his Hollywood heroics,” Luis scoffs.
* “He's a fucking lunatic.”
Silence stretches after, and Nora looks down at her lap in contemplation, wiping her last tears. “There's something else…”
The Spaniard’s frown deepens, tilting his head in question. “What is it?”
“He threatened you,” she gulps, too guilty to meet his eyes. “When I wanted to call you for help, he said he would…” she can't bring herself to finish the sentence. “Fuck, if something happens to you because of me I’d never forgive myself, Luis.”
Despite his attempt to keep calm, the man visibly pales. He’s well aware of the strengths and advantages the American has over him, especially as he remains a criminal with a dirty past that can be used against him. It’s unfair how life dealt him cards of success after a miserable childhood, only to turn them and reveal they were a death sentence the whole time.
“Don't worry about me. I’ll be fine.” His answer is not convincing, but he doesn't care to try and make it that way. Both he and the girl know perfectly well the threat a man like Leon imposes.
She finally meets his eyes again with concern. “Do you think you can put off your job search for a bit longer? I think it would be better if you stayed home.”
“You want me to stay holed up because that asshole is roaming around? This is my city, Nora. I’m not hiding,” he shakes his head fervently. Despite his fear, he seems to hold a strong front for now. “If he has something to say, he can say it to my face—not when I’m gone so he can prey on a poor woman like a coward.”
“Luis… He’s dangerous,” she insists.
“Well, he's not the first dangerous prick I’ve had to deal with. And look at me, estoy bien, ¿ves?” He offers a reassuring grin, although his attempt at displaying confidence fails when she pointedly looks at his casted arm.
Nora sighs, her exhaustion preventing her from arguing further as she finally concedes. “Just promise to be careful, okay?”
“I’m always careful, guapa,” he winks and she begrudgingly smiles.
Wiping away the dampness on her cheeks, she looks down at her mess of a state again, feeling the wetness between her thighs that's thankfully concealed thanks to the dark fabric of her leggings. She suddenly feels the urge to shower and scrub away the day’s shame off her thoroughly. Maybe she can finally process what happened once she's under spraying water. She needs to understand what would ever make her body react like that to the man that betrayed her the most.
“I’m gonna go take a shower—clear my head.”
Luis nods, eyeing her as she stands on wobbling legs. “Okay, you shower and rest. I’ll order us some food, eh? And I’ll make a couple of calls about that door…”
She glances towards the hallway with a tight chest, her lips pursing. “I’m sorry again.”
“It’s not you who should be apologizing.”
His clear reaffirmation eases some of her guilt as she nods, but it flares again the second she's inside the bathroom. Nora begins to slowly undress herself, watching her reflection in the mirror with a sense of dissonance. It's almost hard to believe she's the girl looking back at her with red eyes and disheveled hair. Her top comes off first, stretched and wrinkled from the grip of the agent. Then her skintight pants cling to her damp skin as she tugs them down, only for her breath to hitch at the sight of the generous slick coating the fabric at the crotch.
She came in the middle of choking the man who ruined her life, and she's not sure she even wants to understand why. But with her mind running a thousand miles an hour in a constant loop, she couldn't stop herself from self-analyzing if she tried.
The knob on the wall creaks as she turns on the showerhead, cool water spraying on her naked figure, but she doesn't step away like she usually would while it warms up. Instead, she welcomes the freezing temperature as a way of grounding her senses, or maybe as a small punishment for her traitor of a body.
After all he’s done, she shouldn't feel anything for Leon except utter repulsion. And yet, she knows that deep down she has never truly stopped caring, her old feelings for him clouding her judgement. It's so incredibly bizarre. He was fictional, only existing on her screen where she could idealize him into the perfect man that would save her from her loneliness. But then he became real and that dream crumpled, except he still saved her. He still did good deeds after welting her ass and shattering her heart, and the two sides of him cause her mind to break from the intense paradox.
How could he hurt her like that then act so remorseful? Guilt doesn't erase the past, but it does put into perspective his true feelings. The fact he let her strangle him nearly to death, begging for her to kill him, when he's supposed to be her greatest source of terror, makes absolutely zero sense. She could have killed him. She wanted to. And he would have let her, a single week after traumatizing her for life.
It makes no sense. Leon makes no sense. And her own feelings make no sense either as she reaches between her legs to collect the wetness of concealed desire. It’s fucked up, but the power trip of having the strongest man she knows be reduced to a crying, begging mess makes her arousal soar. Maybe next time she will make him beg harder on his knees.
Wait. Next time? No. There is no next time.
Luis will change the locks and invest in better security, and she is not leaving the apartment until she's certain the agent is long gone. And hopefully, if she's lucky, she won't ever have to see him again. She just needs to watch her back until the day she manages to return to her world and leave all of this behind…
Except, how does she leave it all behind when her cunt is already pulsing again at the memory of his sobs?
Still on the couch, Luis listens to the sound of running water with a blank expression. He’s physically there, but his mind is far away, replaying the previous events over and over and trying to think of a solution. He doesn't know how he can protect himself and Nora from a trained killer, but he also doesn't want to live in constant fear. Not after coming so close to losing his life with that Godforsaken cult.
He exhales, sinking into the backrest, when his eyes trail on the blood stains on the cushions beside him. Nora had tried to scrub them but they only smudged further, the deep crimson tainting the light colored fabric. Luis’s heart tightens at the memory of her guilt-filled sobs, and he decides that at the very least he can take away the evidence of her fight with the agent. Well, the door is still left broken in his room, but he will arrange to have that fixed soon as well. He just hopes he can afford it.
With a sigh, he stands to shrug off his half draped suit jacket, before reaching for the cushion with his unbroken arm to remove its cover. He struggles, the task rendered difficult without the use of his other limb. But, he finally manages to peel it off by shaking the entire pad upside down, only to pause when he suddenly hears the sound of jingling metal hitting the floor. It sounded like keys, and he thinks he may have dropped his from his pocket, but when he peers down it’s something else that he finds.
His own face—or what looks like a cute drawing of it—smiling up at him. The little acrylic Luis is wearing his ornate leather jacket, his jeans, his boots, and his hands are bound by a chain.
“¿Que coño?” he whispers, dropping the cushion from his grasp to crouch for a better look.
When he takes hold of the small keychain, examining it further, there is no doubt it's meant to represent him. But then, the mindfuck of the situation is worsened when he turns it and finds a mirrored drawing of Leon. Also chained, and in the same clothes he wore when the two of them were captured and restrained by the ganados.
Luis doesn’t know what to think. What even is this? Did Nora put it here? Did she make it? How? And when? He’s spent time with her the entire week, and she has never shown any interest in arts and crafts. Not to mention, this keychain is clearly depicting a moment where she wasn't present, so how would she know to make it?
He sits fully on the floor, feeling like his brain is short circuiting from everything going on. Surely the beer he had a couple of days ago isn’t still affecting him? Or maybe he hit his head somewhere and is only now realizing. But then he tightens his hold on the keys, and he knows they're very much real, their cool metal digging into his palm too sharply to be a dream.
It’s at that same moment the bathroom door clicks open, and out comes Nora with fresh clothes and her hair wrapped in a towel. He peers at her past the armrest his back is resting on, and sees the slight flush of her cheeks on her tanned skin caused by the steam.
“Luis?” She frowns as she sees him sitting on the tiles, his face pale like he’s just seen a ghost. Then, her eyes fall on the peeled cushion cover draped on the backrest, and she suddenly realizes what he undoubtedly found.
“Nora…” he whispers with a solemn face, his trembling hand holding up the keys with a jingle. “¿Qué diablos es esto?”*
* “What the hell is this?”
that's a good question luis 💀 again, this is a bit of a filler chapter, but i hope you guys enjoyed it nonetheless along with the edit while i try to settle back into a proper writing routine 🫶 thank you for your support!
i think you should be allowed to identify as trans without retroactively saying you were also trans in the past. i think the "born this way" rhetoric is limiting and you should be able say stuff like "i was fully a girl when i was a kid and now im a boy" without it invalidating your current identity but maybe that's just me
Summary : what will you do, when your dirty little secret finally comes out?
WC : 9k
Genre/cw: age-gap, dad's best friend, yearning, smut, mdni, 18+, oral (f) recieving, squirt, multiple orgasms, pinv, missionary, langauge, dirty talk, filth pure filth, less plot -- but lots of sex
Note : idk if i like it how it turned out, but anyways... hope you enjoy.
and needless to say, you'd always been the ideal daughter. The ideal student. And now, somehow, the ideal employee, working at the company you'd dreamed of joining since university.
To everyone else, your life looked... perfect, it was.... well at least until some certain point in your life.
Because you were your father's pride and joy, honestly you don't know if you could be his pride… if he knew about… nevermind.
Anyways, four years ago, he'd divorced your cheating mother and fought for your custody — and won. Looking back at it now, you know how lucky you were, because he'd given you a home, stability, and every ounce of love he could — and your heart was grateful for it.
So really..
What more could you ask for?
Apparently, quite a lot.
Because beneath that picture-perfect life, you carried one filthy little secret.
One that nobody knew. Nobody...
Except you.
And your diary.
You let out a groan as you sat cross-legged on your bed, gripping an old – worn journal resting in your lap, you sighed at the sand rough texture of the cover and quite slowly your fingers absentmindedly flipped back to the very first page, and as you as you saw it your blood rushed straight to your core.
Embarrassing really – but let's dive into it.
21st July 2021 — you read it internally.
Dear Diary,
What do you do when you find a man twice your age attractive? Does it ever go away?
Okay... You could've stumbled across something far worse. Instead, you found something you'd always known was there.
A slow, embarrassed smile tugged at your lips as you turned the page.
2022.
Dear Diary,
If you touch yourself thinking about your father's best-friend, moan his name, hoping he had take you, in every position? Is it blasphemy?
But even if it is, what if you are not scared – because the heart wants what it wants, isn't that right?
So will God punish you for that — or would you want that man to become your God and ravish you with his cock.
For a second your jaw clenched so tight you thought you had broken it, God... how long had it been since you'd fallen for him, anyway?
Because it felt like only yesterday, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't tried — more than once, to seduce him — because you'd, you flirted with him, thrown yourself on to him — dropped hints so obvious they should've hit him square in the face, even tried your best to attempt him into seeing you as something more. but nothing.
The man was either carved from steel..Or stone. You still hadn't decided which.
With a quiet sigh, you turned the page, and a quiet ache started to settle deep into your chest. Because you knew it wasn't just an ‘physical’ attraction anymore, you'd begun craving his presence, as though being close to him was the only thing that could quiet the emptiness inside you.
2023.
Dear Diary,
I almost told him today that I loved him.
when... he threw me the sweetest birthday party I'd ever had. Dad was away on a mission, so I expected another quiet birthday.
But Leon… he stayed back from his mission, said it wasn't important and he invited my friends, decorated the house, remembered my favorite cake -- every little detail.
I didn't expect him to care that much, and yet he did, then I got drunk — danced with other men, thought it had made him furious, but he just watched me leaning against the wall, and I watched him the whole night, wearing the shortest dress I could — and his eyes never left me once -- not once -- his jaw clenched tightly as he played the glass in his hands.
But God how I wished that he had bent me over and took me in front of everyone.
And for one stupid, hopeful moment... I almost thought he was jealous.
Instead... he made sure I got to bed safely. He stayed until he was certain I was alright, made sure I'd drunk enough water, tucked the blanket over me, and only then politely sent everyone else home, and when I grabbed his arm from the edge of my bed and asked him to stay... I genuinely believed he would.
I remember the way his throat bobbed, like he was swallowing words he couldn't bring himself to say. For a second, I thought he'd give in. Instead... he just cleared his throat, gave me that infuriatingly gentle smile of his, and said, "Sleep well, kiddo."
...Fucking kiddo.
Sometimes I wonder if that's all I'll ever be to him.
Asshole.
But if you really think about it, how could you stay away from a man like that? And then spending time together with him on dinners, trips, only made it harder for me to look away from him.
I do know he feels something... I'm sure of it, because the way he looks at me, the way he suddenly looks away, the way the silence changes whenever we're alone... his heartbeat can't be that different from mine.
So... am I really that unattractive? Or is this about my age?
I don't know anymore, but I do know that I ended up crying again tonight. How can he not see what's been right in front of him all this time?
Should I move on —?
That was the last entry you had written in your diary that was smudged with tears: and to answer that question — no, you weren't able to move on and you don't know if you ever will.
God... how were you supposed to move on, anyway? You rather not know.
So, instead of searching for an answer for that question, your mind did what it always did — it wandered into impossible scenarios, the kind that would never happen outside the safety of your imagination, and with a quiet sigh, you snapped the diary shut, the loud thwack echoing through your bedroom, and carelessly, you tossed it onto the bed before stretching your arms high above your head, your legs extending until your feet dangled over the edge of the mattress. "Enough pity party for tonight," you muttered to yourself, letting out a humorless laugh.
Just as you pushed yourself to your feet, your phone buzzed on the bed beside the diary. You barely spared it a glance.
"Later."
Leaving both your phone and your diary exactly where they were, you wandered toward the bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, you shut the door behind you, and within seconds, the gentle rush of hot running water drowned out the rest of the world.
...
If only you had known...
Tonight was about to change everything.
because, if you saw your dad texted you, you had hidden our diary — but maybe you will be glad for it: that you actually didn't.
The text read ; Dad: away on mission tonight. Leon's staying over to keep you company. Don't be a menace to him.
...
Unfortunately or maybe fortunately you didn't read it.
…
Leon, arrived at the house twenty minutes later, letting himself in with the key your father had entrusted to him, for emergencies only — Leon, she's my daughter, and you are family : the words still echoing in his skull as he stepped over the threshold.
Family, he scoffed, then he tried to shake thoughts he rather not have, "Kiddo?" The endearment slipped out before he could catch it, and he immediately clenched his jaw, trying to swallow the word back down. Kiddo. As if you weren't a grown woman. As if you weren't twenty-five with a mouth that haunted his dreams and hips that swayed like a weapon he had no defense against.
He shook his head again, “get a grip” then he moved through the living room, and every sense in him heightened, like vice, and the same hyper-awareness that had kept him alive through Raccoon City, through Spain, through countless hellscapes: came back to him — even heavier in ways he werent able to comprehend, because he knew this was different.
This was dangerous in a way B.O.W.s never were, because this was you.
And as soon as he passed through the living room and entered your bedroom, he heard the shower running behind the door, and he could imagine the the hiss of water against your body, he was aware of the subtle shift of movement behind your bathroom door: and suddenly his cock was straining against his tactical pants, thick and heavy, because the image of you in shower assaulted his mind soon before he could ‘let it go’ and it jumped on him, you bent over in that shower before him, water dripping down your spine, steam rising from your skin, his cock buried into your cunt, and he could almost feel your heat, your tightness, the way you'd gasp when he— “No,”he told himself, grinding the heel of his palm against his brow. “Kennedy. No.”
You are twice her age. You are her father's partner, you are their family. He reminded himself.
But he didn't know if he wanted… to be that family anymore, to betray your father's trust, when in his mind all he could think about taking you, marking you as his, tasting every inch of you, but as his mind was ruining him with images of you he saw it — your diary, splayed on the bed like an invitation or a condemnation — he couldn't tell which.
Then he noticed the leather cover that was worn soft from years of handling, pages filled with your private thoughts, your secret desires.
Don't, he warned himself.
But his feet were already carrying him toward your bed — one step, then another, the distance closing like a mission parameter he couldn't abort. When he finally reached the edge of it, his knees nearly brushed the mattress where you slept, where you dreamed, where you touched yourself thinking of — he would soon learn, “Don't, Kennedy," he rasped aloud again.
But his hand was already reaching towards it. His fingers trembling at his sides, still he finally clasps his fingers and grips them around the worn leather cover with a reverence that makes him sick.
God those were the same hands that had loaded countless magazines, pulled triggers, terminated threats — now they were trembling over a twenty-five-year-old girl's diary like it was the most dangerous thing he'd ever held.
Jesus he was beyond fucked.
Don't read it. He told himself.
Walk away. But still couldn't.
Call her father. Tell him you can't do this anymore. Tell him he needs to find someone else to check on her tonight, someone who doesn't wake up hard and aching from dreams of her voice saying his name.
But none of the weak protests made by his mind worked because — his heart had already decided what to do.
He sighed and finally picked it up, then he groaned, "I'm sorry," to the empty room, to the ghost of his own integrity.
For a second he stood like a statue, frozen like Medusa was looking at her, and a part of him whispered — that you had written about him too.
Oh boy, did he know? No. But he was about to find out.
Slowly, he sat on the edge of your bed and for a moment he simply held your diary like a chalice, containing the wine.
Then, with a desperation that made him hate himself, he lifted it to his face, and pressed the worn leather against his nose, and inhaled deeply, searching for any trace of you — your shampoo, your skin, that vanilla and something-else scent that had tormented him for four years.
Fuck, he inhaled everything, but nonetheless he didnt get what he wanted, so he pulled it away from his face and held it at his eye level.
God for years he had ignored you, ignored your advances with the iron discipline of a man who had survived bioterrorism outbreaks and government conspiracies.
But what he had never expressed — what he had locked away in the darkest, most shameful corners of his mind, that was how he had jerked himself off in the lonely hotel rooms across the world, his fist wrapped tight around his cock, imagining you above him, below him, on him — his mouth on your pussy – Christ. How he pictured your mouth stretching around him, your tongue swirling on his tip, as your eyes water when you try to take him whole. How he'd come with your name gritted between his teeth like a prayer or a curse.
"Fuck," he laughed, bitterly, shaking his head, while your diary rested in his palms, because now he was about to find out something terrible — or perhaps exactly what he'd wanted all along, what he'd tortured himself with in the dark, what he'd never dared hope for. “Here I go," he grunted.
And then he opened it, then he read everything every little thing you'd written about him — your handwriting growing more desperate, more honest, more hungry with each passing year, and his heartbeat stumbles as he reads —
Dear Diary, I touched myself thinking of my father's best-friend.
Is it blasphemy?
Dear Diary, I almost told him that I loved him..
Dear Diary, the heart wants what it wants...
He sat there frozen because his heart wasn't in his chest anymore. It had migrated south, pulsing thick and heavy in his cock, beating a desperate rhythm against his zipper throbbing with every fill confession he'd just devoured. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Like it was trying to fuck its way out of his pants. (Pun very much intended, Kennedy, you absolute bastard.)
He sat there in shock staring right ahead, his hands were shaking now, the diary trembling in his grip, fuck — four years of carefully constructed walls, professionalism, duty, the sacred trust of your father's friendship— crumbled like ash in front of him.
Because there it was, in your elegant, emotional handwriting: you loved him. Not a crush. Not infatuation. Love.
And somewhere between the first entry and the last, between the confession of your first orgasm thinking of him and the tear-stained page where you asked why he couldn't see you, Leon Kennedy realized he was lost.
Finally the shower turned off, and he swallowed thickly.
Because
He should leave.
He should run.
Though he didn't move.
He just sat there, hard and aching and ruined, waiting for you to open that bathroom door and destroy what little remained of his restraint.
…
The steam from the shower still clings to your skin when you step back into your bedroom, towel wrapped loosely around your breasts and torso leaving your shoulders bare and your hair dripping, with a popping sound onto the hardwood floor. “Fuck, that was—” suddenly, the air feels different, charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
And then your eyes travel towards him and see him.
Leon Scott Kennedy — your ruin — your father's best friend, his partner in the DSO, the man who'd materialized in your life; before your father's world imploded four years ago helped him, helped you — now he sat bathed in the amber glow of your bedroom lamp.
The light carved harsh shadows across his sharp features, illuminating the wrinkle at his temples, the lines bracketing his mouth that hadn't been there when you first met.
You swallow hard and your feet? They stay rooted to the floor, refusing the instinct to flee. You should be mortified — standing before him like this, damp from the shower, your towel barely worth the fabric it's made of but shame refuses to come. Instead, something hotter coils in your chest. Because after four years of invisibility, of being the obligation, the package he helped your father protect... you want him to see you.
But little did you know he finally will.
...
He was sitting on the edge of your bed, your diary open in his large, calloused hands. His head was bowed to his chest, shoulders tense beneath the charcoal jacket that strained across his broad frame.
Fuck. Did he read everything?
Not that you regret it— not truly, because some part of you, the part that had been writing his name in moans rather than ink, had always wanted him to find it.
And now he had, and maybe today. It would be the worst or best day of your life, you couldn't yet tell.
Honestly : you should curse him right now. Tell him reading your thoughts was wrong, that he had no right, when he ignored you for years.
But the words die in your throat because you feel your nipples peaked beneath the damp towel, traitorous and obvious, and when his gaze finally snaps up to find you still standing there frozen, exposed, waiting — something dark and burning beneath them sets your core ablaze and finally his gaze locks onto yours, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture of exhausted resignation, but then his eyes drop.
And he finally sees you , licking his lips, he clenches his jaw, so hard and you feel him, inside your chest and he takes in a sharp hissed breath inside him — and his gaze ; alone does something undeniably dangerous to your cunt, a visceral clench that makes your breath hitch.
Suddenly your eyes drop involuntarily to the front of his jeans, and you see his cock, straining against the zipper, hard and ready to explode, and the knowledge that you did that— and now Agent fucking Kennedy is sitting on your bed with a cockstand for you —sends liquid of heat flooding between your thighs. “God Kennedy,” you groaned internally.
…
Leon didn't know what to say anymore. Instead, he straightened himself and stood there at the edge of your mattress, the back of his knees meeting the soft edge of it. and right now he was painfully aware of the erection straining against his tactical pants, and then pushing the ache burning between his thighs he turned towards you.
He didn't bother explaining why he'd been reading your diary , knowing you hadn't asked him that either. "Your father's on a mission," he blurted out, his voice rough and strained, as soon his grip on your diary tightens, "and he asked me to stay home with you."
I never asked" Your voice was quieter this time, but no less sharp. You swallowed, your stomach twisting into unfamiliar heat. "Why are you here." Your eyes flickered down to the worn leather journal still clutched in his hands. “I just want to know why you were reading my diary?"
Here was the question, that Leon already knew was coming, "I really tried not to," he finally admitted, a weary sigh escaping him, before throwing the diary – mindlessly on the corner of the bed.
…
Something inside you suddenly snaps, like the wall getting tired of holding back all the damn water for ages, and all those years of yearning, of holding yourself back, of biting your tongue until it bled, crept up on you, and without thinking your words spills out of you, "You've ignored me for four years," you spit, as tears stung behind your eyes, "four fucking years”, you shook your head, as your chest fell and rose with heavy inhales and exhales of breaths, “I threw myself at you. I wore dresses that barely covered anything. I touched you 'accidentally' every chance I got. And you—" Your voice fractures finally and suddenly the tears involuntarily bled down your cheeks, and you hastily rub them with the back of your hands. "And you looked right through me. Like I was some kid you had to endure. Like I was nothing.”
Something fractures in his expression — that legendary Kennedy control finally cracking like ice under pressure.
He chuckled bitterly, running a hand through his hairs, before mouthing ‘fuck this shit’, "You think I didn't notice?" He clenches his jaw and closes the distance between you and him, in three long strides, so fast that you didn't even notice, and suddenly he cages you against the wall behind you, with a hand on either side of your head.
Suddenly, the heat that was burning low into your belly, it slipped down your thighs and you clenched your thighs tightly because god you wanted him inside you — a small little moan slipped past your throat, that said, ‘enough fuck me’, and suddenly he laughs as if he heard your thoughts and the heat starts to radiates off him and starts to morph into you and you can smell him — the gun oil, and that subtle cologne he wears that makes you dizzy, and he gazes at you his eyes locked on your orbs and he groans, “god you are—” he trails off, before shaking his head yet again like he could not believe himself, “You think I haven't spent every goddamn night since I met you running five miles at 0300 just to exhaust myself enough to stop thinking about you?” He growls, and he removes his that was bracing the wall to trace your lower lips, “You think I don't jerk myself off with your name on my lips?"
Your breath catches, at his admission– and before you could process his words, your arousal leaks down on you, "What?" You said quietly.
"You are so fucking clueless." He sighs, pressing his thumb past your lips until your tongue meets his skin, and you groan around it “leon…” and suddenly your gaze drops and you see the strain of his denim, and you were sure it was begging him for a release, and lord you wanted to help him, take some weight off his shoulders, but as soon as he speaks again in his deep husky voice, "I'm twice your age," that makes you look up at him, the words sounding torn from him, and you suck on his thumb until he is closing his eyes, and whispering your name like a reverence, he pauses for a second and removes his thumb from your mouth, and lets it hand fall to his side, "i am your father's partner. The man he trusts to protect you when he can't." His forehead drops until it rests against yours, his breath suddenly merging inside your skin.
"I'm supposed to protect you…not—" He grinds his jaw, the muscle twitching with each syllable. "Not want to fuck you until you can't remember your own name." He finally admits, and the vulgarity of it from his mouth — sends a shockwave through your entire core, and little begging plea ‘please take me’ escapes you.
His eyes squeeze shut tightly, and he grits out, "I feel the same, I always have." He makes a painful sound that low echo in his throat, "I'm only human after all, I've been fighting this for four years, and now I'm so fucking tired of fighting."
Then, without another warning, he leans down and his mouth crashes against yours with a violence that steals your breath and you gasp at the suddenness of it , but soon you were kissing him back and for the hundredth time your core aches for him and you say his name like a plea ‘Leon’ you moan into his mouth — and suddenly all that pent-up tension redirected into devastating need, and he smiles against your lips, “four years I resisted,” he groans into your mouth, “but today I am going to take every inch of you, and mark every part of you as mine.”
Suddenly a low growl rumbles in his chest, and his hands travel to the knot just below your shoulder blades — where your towel is secured, and with a sharp tug, he undoes it, and the fabric drops with a soft thud.
For a second he stares at your bare frame making you feel self conscious, then he swallows thickly, his Adam apple working up and down as his gaze rakes over your bare skin, your nipples peaked and aching for his touch. "A fucking masterpiece," he breathes, though he doesnt touches you yet, "Never seen anyone like you." His eyes lift to yours, dark and hungry. "You are all mine."
"I am all yours," you breathe, the words tumbling out like a prayer. "Yours. All yours. Have been yours for years." You repeat it like a mantra, desperate, as if the moment might shatter if you stop speaking it into existence.
"Fucking hell," he curses, and suddenly his hands travel to your breasts, and you take in a sharp breath, your eyes fluttering shut as he squeezes them between his palms — and the rough calluses against your sensitive skin creates a delicious, aching friction that pools heat in your pussy, slowly he kneads them with that reverent hunger, that makes your all the senses dizzy, his eyes locked on yours as your knees begin to turn to jelly.
God... for years, this was all you'd ever wanted, and now, impossibly, you finally had him, and he wanted you too , he finally saw you — not as his best friend's daughter, but as you. And a slow, disbelieving smile bloomed across your face, as years of aching longing melted into something warm enough to make your chest feel unbearably light.
"Last chance," he growls pulling you out of your thoughts, then he leans down to your throat, his mouth hot and demanding, as he sucks on it, and you know he's marking you, claiming you with a bruising kiss that will linger for days, suddenly his free hand slides down your spine, in slow and possessive way that makes you arch your back, in a haze of pleasure, until his fingers dig into your hips with a grip that will definitely leave bruises — and you keep moaning his name into the moonlit night as he continues his sweet assault on your throat.
"Tell me to leave," he commands against your pulse. "Tell me to forget what we're about to do. Tell me to forget what I read. Tell me to be a better man.”
You wrap your arms around his neck and finally pull him closer against you, and he grunt out a low pleased huff, and you answer him with a moan of your own, and suddenly your arch into him, feeling the hard length of him through his denim pressing against your core, slowly you fist your hands into his jacket. "I don't want a better man. I want you."
“You begged for this, remember.”
“I will, Mr. Kennedy.”
He grunts, “Leon, darling, Leon.”
“Okay, Leon.”
“Good girl.”
He smiles smoothly a wicked, predatory kind — and smoothly he sticks out his tongue and licks his lips before leaning down and hooking an arm behind the back of your knees, with effortless strength, the kind that comes from carrying heavy gear through hell and back, then he hoists you up over his shoulder, his arms locking on the back of your knees, which makes you giggle, “leon!” and he hums in response as your tits bounce and scrape against the rough fabric of his jacket as he carries you to the bed, and you make a low desperate sound against him. “Patience, sweet thing.” He whispers to you, before raising his free arms – and with a loud crack – he lets it land on your ass – the impact jiggles it and you feel a lightning thunder stricken inside your hole. “Oh—fuck me!”
“I will, soon” he laughs, and as soon as he says it, he swiftly reaches your bed and throws you onto the mattress with a proud grin, and you bounce a little with an impact, completely breathless, and the diary that was resting on the corner gets knocked to the floor utterly forgotten—as you lay back completely boneless against the sheets.
God he hasn't even touched you properly and you were already unravelling, “Leon, please, hurry!”, you say, straightening yourself a little.
“Mhm, but first spread your legs for me darling," he breathes, his voice rough with need. "I need to see that pretty little thing."
You nod and do as he says, your thighs instinctively, falling open for him “a little more”, he orders, and you spread them even wider, and he grins his eyes locked on your pulsing cunt, “good fucking girl”, then he throws his jacket across the room before ripping the buttons of his shirt like they're straining to contain him, and suddenly his chest is on full display, heaving with every ragged breath, each one matching yours, but he doesn't remove the shirt completely — instead he let it hang over his torso, like a displayed collection.
"Now you're going to get me," he promises, then he drifts his gaze upwards and looks into your eyes, his blue eyes dark and possessive as it intently stares in yours, his hands travel down, already working his belt with the efficient movements of a man who knows his weapons. "All of me. Now and forever. And God help us both." He grunts as he frees himself from his pants and boxers, tossing the fabric uselessly to the floor, instantly his cock springs free with a quiet jerk, the head of his cock was wide and his tip weeps begging to be licked and yet you keep your legs spread wide, giving him a better view of exactly what he's been starving for.
He moans your name and he stretches himself out flat on his stomach, his knees hitting the edge of the bed, and then he spreads your thighs wider with his rough hands, and soon he lifts your legs onto his shoulders, settling between your thighs, and ghosts his hot breath against your slick folds, and you groan in heat of a kitten, “fuck you are a tease”, he smiles then for a second he stays there tormenting you until you were trembling with much anticipation.
When you finally sob, “Leon, please, i need it”, he grins and his mouth finally descends into your hole, and he takes a long whiff of your cunt, "smell so good", then his tongue flattens against your core in one long, filthy stroke, like a man savoring an oyster, and you squirm a little and your eyes closes in pleasure, soon he dives inside your cunt, his warm tongue lapping against your folds and he works you with devastating precision, circling your clit in rapid strokes until you're writhing beneath him, and you instinctively fists the sheets, begging him to go faster without words.
he hums in your core your wetness slicking on sheets as he wraps his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks it deep into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it in rapid, merciless strokes. "mphh--fuck leon!"
He doesn't reply instead he keeps working on you with his tongue-- fuck it's better than your rose toy , no -- God , better than anything , you have ever used on yourself — and you feel your nerves sparking and going numb with overwhelming sensation.
And you convulse shakily , while your jaw slacks open instinctively and you feel your drip drool down your chin, and your thighs starts locking around his neck like a vice, and your hips buck against his face as you pulse and flutter on the edge of your orgasm, soon you guide your hands on your breasts and start to knead them beneath your palms, "oh god-- this-- dont stop."
"That's it," he growls against you, the vibration rippling through your core, and you tremble relentlessly, your body covered in sweat and he pulls back just enough that shows a glistening string of saliva connects his lips to your pussy god it was so filthy — and you try to get up but as soon as you do he slaps your folds sharply which makes you fall against your back again, it was though a encouraging sting pass through your body and you jump a little out of your skin. "Give it to me. Been dreaming about this taste for four fucking years."
You scream his name, and your back arches off the mattress, as he leans down to spit a thick glob of saliva directly onto your hole. You feel it land inside you hotly, and you tighten your legs around his neck feeling the ache build in your belly. Soon, he's on you again, licking you with long, filthy strokes. "God, you smell so good," he chuckles against your folds, the sound vibrating through your core and you hummed dazily. "I wish I could stay here forever."
Your walls start to pulse around his tongue, and you feel your body tightening toward the edge and you know he feels it too, of course he does, and soon his voice comes muffled and smug against your walls: "Close, aren't you?"
You groan his name as your only response, and he rewards you by sucking your bud deep into his mouth again, and you make soft little sounds completely lost in pleasure, and when he releases it with a wet, filthy ,pop, his breath hot against your oversensitive skin, you complain, “Leon, why'd you stop?”
"Keep your eyes on me when you cum on my tongue," he commands, his voice breaking at the edges, "Baptize me with your juices."
Then he dives back in, kissing and licking and devouring you until you lose yourself completely, and you do as he says, meeting his gaze with same desire and your thighs finally starts to burn with the orgasm tethering on your edge, and your core clenches around him as you feel your walls spasm around his tongue.
And when you finally break screaming his name into the empty room, as you come against his lips — he doesn't stop, instead he lets you ride his face, grinding your weight down, desperate for more, and he keeps you riding that edge, tongue fucking you through the aftershocks until you're trembling, overwhelmed, tears streaming down your face.
With a satisfied sigh, he pulls himself back slowly, straightening until he's kneeling between your thighs, and his cock springs free, heavy and hard against his stomach. Then he grins down at you, eyes dark with satisfaction, as he drags his fingers through your slit once more, gathering your arousal, then brings them to his nose and takes a long, appreciative whiff, before his tongue darts out, licking them clean with a guttural groan. "God," he breathes, savoring the taste. "You taste like fucking honey.”
He waits until your glazed eyes find him and when it does your eyes flutter half open as it strains to stay on him. "Look at me." His voice drops and he says it like if you didn't he had stopped right there. "You let anyone else taste this? Did anyone else touch what's mine?”
"No," you gasp. "I could not, it was always you or no-–"
"Damn right." He grins, cutting you off in between, thoroughly pleased with your answer and then without letting you recover he pulls your one leg over his shoulder, and hooks the other around his waist, and lines himself up to your core the thick head of him presses against your entrance, and your walls spasm around nothing — but the need of his shaft inside you.
Then he leans in closer to you, his forehead resting against yours. "I'm going in," he warns, his voice strained to breaking. "And I'm not stopping. Not after this. Not ever. You understand? You take all of me or you tell me to walk away right now."
You nod frantically, though you weren't sure if you even processed what he said instead your nails digs into his shoulders almost causing it to bleed. "Please. Please, Leon fuck put it inside me—" then you inhale sharply, as with one sharp stretch, he slides deep inside you , and your walls hugs his cock like it was always belonged there, and you cry out, screaming his name as he fills you completely to the brim, then he shifts his weight, licking the tears from your cheeks, his voice a broken rasp against your temples. "I'm going to move.” He warns.
“Please.” you beg.
He does, and finally he rolls his hips, making him grunt your name. "Fuck—your filthy hole is so tight," he tries to breathe, pushing himself deep inside you again. "Damn it," he groans again, stilling inside you for a second, yet your walls contract on his cock, and your breath tightens inside your chest as you let out small little sounds of pleasure. "You're strangling me, darling.” He croons “Fuck, four years I've waited for this. Four years of jerking off to the thought of you just like this — and you're even tighter than I imagined."
Your phone suddenly buzzes on your side, the screen lighting up: Dad, Incoming Call. Instead of feeling dread, you are so fucking turned on. You glance at Leon, and he glances at it, then back at you. That wicked smirk curves his mouth. "Answer it.”
"Leon—" you start.
"Answer it," he repeats, already reaching for the phone, while still being buried inside you. "Or I stop."
You shake your head, “please don’t” your body already panicked, but he's already snatching up the phone, and answering it, you try to bite your lips to stop yourself moaning his name, but he pounds into you with a brutal thrust that steals your breath — then presses the phone to your ear, his eyes glinting with dark amusement as he watches you struggle to compose yourself.
"Hey, sweetheart," your dad's voice comes through the line.
You try to sound normal, you really do, but Leon deliberately chooses that moment to roll his hips in slowly, qgainst that spot that makes your toes curl, and your chest squeezes your heart inside, and you close your eyes, embarrassed but not, regretting it, Jesus, "H-hey, Dad," you manage finally, your voice breathy.
"Leon there yet?"
Leon thrusts again, hard enough to move you up the mattress, and you make a hiccup sound and soon cover it with a loud cough and he leans down, his mouth at your free ear, as he whispers, in a low and filthy tone, "Tell him I'm inside."
You choke back a moan. "Y-yeah. He's... he's inside."
"Inside?… So did you check if he had come yet?"
Leon chuckles against your throat, the low vibration of his words sending shivers through your spine, and you press a hand over his mouth to silence him, but he only smirks against your palm — then he licks it, teasingly, his tongue hot and wet against your skin, and you pull away with a gasp, and he shifts upwards catching your earlobe between his teeth, biting sharp enough to sting before dragging his tongue down the column of your throat, leaving a glistening trail of his saliva, which makes you shiver under him. "Stupid man," he mouths against your pulse, angling his hips to hit that spot that makes your vision blur and your toes curl. "Tell him." You grind your teeth, desperate not to spill what you're feeling, the words tumbling out strained and breathy. "Not yet."
"Not… not yet," you gasp into the phone, and Leon's eyes flash with dark, predatory amusement. He thrusts again, deep and punishing, knocking the air from your lungs, and grunts, "But he will. Really... really soon. He's... working on it." he groans at his words, low and guttural, letting his head fall back as he loses himself in the rhythm, and his eyes flutter shut, his lashes dark against his cheeks, and you repeat what he fed you like a parrot : god, it was dirty, so fucking dirty — fucking deranged how he was ruining you while you were on the phone with your father, and damn you that you didnt regret it and honestly you didn't know he had it in him, this cruel edge, this wickedness that made your core clench even tighter around him.
Leon feels it too, how you ripple and tighten around him and his eyes snap open, pinning you with a look that says.
I own you now, your every sound, every breath, every lie.
And you smile at him, and your dad hums; droning on about dinner, about your day, about the back door—and Leon keeps fucking you in , slow and filthy and merciless circles, while his free hand covers your mouth to muffle the sounds you can't help making.
Then his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight, circles on it, while his mouth moves against your ear: "You take me so good, darling. Can you feel how deep? How hard I'm going to come inside this pretty little—
and you start to whimper feeling yourself on the edge of your pleasure then he grunts and cuts himself off, snapping his hips forward with brutal force, that makes you scream, and suddenly he's wrenching away the phone from your ear, hitting the end button on the call, and hastily tossing it across the room, and you finally finally scream into the room sobbing his name like an orison. “What if he hear–”
"Dont care" he growls, cutting you off in between your worries, “Could not wait”, he breathes, snapping his hips again, hitting your G-spot dead-on. "Couldn't listen to another second of his voice while I'm buried inside his daughter. While you're clenching around me— like you never want to let go."
Then he pounds into you relentlessly, and his each thrust drives the air from your lungs, a brutal rhythm that has you clawing at his back, desperate for anchor, and his thumb works your clit with ruthless efficiency, and he keeps pressing it, there — sensation sharp as a knife, building in your belly like a storm, and his mouth finds your throat, as his teeth sink inside you. The pain threads through the pleasure, bright and electric, and you feel yourself unraveling, feeling yourself explode, "Leon—I am going to—fuck—"
The orgasm crashes through you before you could even complete your sentence in violent waves and you close your eyes sobbing his name, and for a second you ascended to heaven, and your walls contract around his cock in rhythmic spasms, milking him, and the pleasure crests so hard white sparks explode behind your eyes. Your stomach floods with that heavy, liquid warmth, every muscle unlocking at once, relief so profound it borders on ache. "That's it, good girl," he snarls against your jaw, voice wrecked. His hips don't slow. "But give me one more. One more before I fill you up."
He pauses, swallowing thickly, "I want to make you squirt." His eyes find yours, dark and demanding. "Can you do that for me?"
"I don't know, I never squirted." The admission comes breathlessly out of you.
He nods in a hum, like a silent promise ‘there is a first time for everything’ and he grunts, as he pulls his cock out of you and slams inside you in one strong motion.
Then he adjusts his angle, while dragging the head of his cock across that sweet spot inside you behind your urethra, over and over again, and your thighs start to shake and you feel the pressure build differently, this time and a hot swelling behind your pubic bone that makes your thighs tremble, and suddenly it happens.
You squirt hard, gushing hot liquid around him and scream his name like a prayer, and your back arches off the bed, and your vision finally for a while whites out.
The release is so messy, and embarrassing that you could not help but hide your eyes by your arms, and you fold your arms on your eyes, as suddenly you transcend all at once to heaven or hell, you didn't care, and your body surrendering completely to his will. “Look at me.” He grunts.
You don't listen, but then he orders “I said, "Look. At. Me.”
Then finally you open your eyes and meets his gaze, and he smiles softly, “You did so good darling, but now I need” he thrusts, “to cum too.”
You nod and he keeps thrusting himself through your own spasms, chasing his own release, his each stroke creates a wet squelching sound.
Until he's groaning, in a broken tone — and finally with one last thrust, his cock throbs and with a final loud guttural sob he spills inside you, his hot semen pulsing out of him in waves, and his cum ropes inside your womb completely.
Soon you feel every twitch, every pulse of his heat painting your walls.
Then with a low guttural moan of your name he collapses onto you, his chest heaving, and you feel him still hard and twitching inside you. His sweat slicked body, remains on you anchoring you and his heartbeat hammers against yours. “I want more”, you suddenly breathe out.
“More?”
“More.”
“Good, thought we were already done.” he smirks, before pressing a soft kiss onto your neck.
...
Then he rolls you over, that instantly make you take a sharp hissing breath inside your lungs as you feel the soreness start to build between your thighs.
But still you don't want to stop. God, he was so addictive—this ruinous thing between you.
He pulls you on top of him, guiding your hips with rough hands and settling you on his cock.
The slide of him back inside your swollen, slick heat makes you both groan, and the stretch leaves a sweet burn that has your nails digging crescents into his chest.
"Thats right, darling mark me" his hands grip your hips even deeper, bruising your skin and you moan out his name bracing your palms against his shoulders now as he sets a brutal, grinding pace that has you gasping. “Ride me hard, make me proud sweet thing.” he breathes.
So , you do — desperately and hungrily , you feel your thighs burn as you chase that edge again, and every roll of your hips drags him across that sensitive spot inside you, the friction building, coiling tight in your belly.
God you feel so sensitive now, and your hands clutch against his chest, feeling his heart hammering through his cock and his ragged breaths starts to match yours.
and his hands with a sneaky smile finds your breasts, palming them fondly, while his thumbs brushes your nipples with absent reverence and you smile at him, "I dreamt of this..” you said , feeling his cock rubbing on the backside of your pussy.
“I dreamt of this too.” He murmurs and your cunt clenches again, involuntary, greedy.
But you feel the pressure mounts inside you differently this time and you feel yourself cresting, tipping over your own cum, and then you're falling apart suddenly, squirting once more in hot torrents that spill across his thighs and some on his stomach, and he groans "fucking hell, thought you could not do it" then his abs starts collect some of your liquid and he — makes no move to shed it, instead he let himselt bask in that liquid, proudly — that you are his and your body betrays you completely as you collapse against his heaving chest, finally your cheek presses to his sternum, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat, "tired?" He rumbles, you and hum in response, soon you feel his arms come around you instantly he wraps you up, sated and smug, pressing a kiss to your sweat-dampened hair.
His chest rises and falls beneath you and you feel so filled with him that you never want to empty yourself of him ever again.
"I haven't cummed", he admits, "use me then" you murmur against his chest and then he groans your name loudly, "you are killing me, darling." Then he moans, like a broken breath tore straight from his lungs before thrusting up once more, deeply and exploding his cum inside you — in hot, thick, ropes, flooding where you're already soaked.
and finally you feel him pulse, his veins throbbing against your walls then soften to semi-hard, still filling you -- completely and he still remains joined, though he doesn't pull out of you.
Instead he just wraps his arms tighter around your wrecked body and breathes you in, completely sated and content, "Fuck," he chuckles, his voice thick with satisfaction, vibrating against your temple. "I… I love you." His arms tighten just slightly on you "And I'm not letting you go. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not even until I take my last breath, you hear me? You're mine now. Officially, completely, irrevocably mine."
'I love you.'
God. You spent years waiting to hear those words spill from his mouth and now, finally filled with him— his cum, his weight, his love coating you inside and out—you get to hear it. The timing feels perversely perfect, this confession wrapped in sweat and sex and surrender, spoken against your temple while he's still buried deep, still claiming space in your body.
You're grateful, fiercely, desperately grateful that he read your diary — that he saw every messy, wanting page, every fantasy you scribbled in the dark.
So, you nod against his chest, sleepily whispering “I love you too’ because you were too wrecked to speak loudly, but you knew he heard it too, so you let yourself settle and feel your body still trembling with aftershocks, and you feel him smile against your temple, lips brushing skin, reverent and claiming all at once. "My good girl.”
Finally, home pt1—di!leon coming home to his girlfriend after a long mission. fluff.
Finally, home pt2—adding onto pt1. w/ smut.
The Dress—di!leon as ur older bf brings you out for dress shopping and gets needy. smut.
His First Blow—re2!leon gets his first blowjob shot at a bar, then gets lucky w the bartender ;p smut.
Loving You pt1—re4!leon takes you home after a party. fluff/smut.
Loving You pt2—leon learns more about what your ex left you to struggle with, and he makes it his mission to relieve you of every bad memory and replace it with every bit of joy he can provide. comfort/fluff.
Exactly What He Needs pt1—vendetta!leon needs help from a friend to relax after the arias business. smut.
Exactly What He Needs pt2—the morning after, you and vendetta!leon need to have a small talk. fluff.
Meltdown—leon comes home to you having a meltdown because of a long week. fluff/comfort.
His Relief—re2!leon comes home after a double, exhausted, and barely makes it to cling to you in the bedroom. smut.
Summer Fling, Maybe More—literally just hooking up with di!leon, he's your dad's new friend. smut.
Change in Plans—on a mission with your superior agent, you get snowed in, and things got hot. smut, slow burn.
Awakenings—re2!leon just wants his dirty fantasies taken care of and you end up being the person who makes them true. smut.
Birthday Boy—re4!leon gets a birthday gift from his girlfriend. smut.
Quiet as a Mouse pt1—blurb for leon responding to a partner with light footing. fluff/humor.
Quiet as a Mouse pt2—another blurb for the same as above. fluff/humor.
Drive home—blurbs for a domestic drive home with leon. fluff.
Good Morning—blurb of leon's responses to waking up to you being covered in marks after a night of passion. humor/smut.
Guilty Pleasures—blurb of di!leon and a late night w you—his friends daughter (legal age gap!!). smut.
Friendly Secrets—dirty jokes with re4!leon end up messing up the bond between you two, but in the way that ends with a mess of tangled sheets, sweat slick bodies, and a new dirty secret. smut.
The Luck of February—college!au with re2!leon, a stupid party game turns into Leon getting his v-card taken by the girl he's had a crush on from his psychology course. smut.
Leon's Weakness—drabble for re9!leon and his love for your tits. smut.
New Hobbies—re2!leon just can't get enough of you. it was supposed to be a teaching moment, something experimental and short, but now he's got a new hobby. smut.
Proper Distractions—re9!leon is far too busy with paperwork and reports, he forgets to pay attention to you, so you have to distract him yourself. smut.
Relief & Love—re4!leon is exhausted after a mission, so much so that he can't be bothered to hide how badly he'd been crying on the way back just from pure exhaustion and missing you so badly. fluff/comfort.
Love Bites—thinking HEAVY about vamp!rookie!leon and his girlfriend when he runs out of his usual meals. smut.
Unfortunate, Fortunate Circumstances—older!neighbor!leon just can't get you out of his head, but he knows it's so damn inappropriate. his solution? use the rainstorm to his advantage. smut.
Too Much, Not Enough—after older!neighbor!leon helps you through an anxiety ridden night and throws some new discoveries at you, the following morning is… quiet. things became uncertain between you two. solution? well.. smut, fluff-ish. part 2 of 'Unfortunate, Fortunate Circumstances'.
Dates & Laughter - after spending another unplanned night with your older neighbor, Leon, you both realize things can't go further without a proper talk. fluff-ish. part 3 of 'Unfortunate, Fortunate Circumstances'.
Rookie's Addiction—rookie!leon asking his girlfriend to cum inside for the first time. smut.
No More Limits—being inexperienced meant you didn't know your true limits. being with Leon meant you wanted to push those limits. smut.
Uncomfortable Obstacles—re4!leon and his gf who doesn't think leon will like what he finds when she finally lets him see her for the first time. smut.
Welcome Home Present—leon and his wife, who he just missed so goddamn much and couldn't properly love because of the T-Virus, so now it's his job to remind her what she does to him. smut.
Apologies & Forgiveness—leon needs to fix his bad habits, and when he comes home late again to find his fiancé waiting angrily, he knows he needs to make it up to her. smut.
Distractions—after trying so hard to talk him out of his growing alcohol consumption, you find him a few rounds deep, and in order to stop it—at least for the night—you've gotta do something, right? right.. suggestive content, almost smut??
Neglected Needs—after coming home absolutely shit-faced and needy, Leon's concern grows, much like the embarrassing tent in his sweats. smut.
Insecurity Relief—leon's insecurity strikes at the worst time, and in a burst of desperation, an idea and solution are found effortlessly. smut.
Discoveries—when leon needs a little more excitement to get to the finish line in bed, your suggestion becomes his newest, most mind-melting addiction. smut.
Making Up and Making Out—after a petty fight over work and the apartment, you find yourself avoiding leon and trying to get a reaction out of him with a splurge with his money, the night ending with a much better reaction than you'd thought. smut.
Chris Redfield Links
Private Apologies—working as Chris' assistant was never an issue. if anything, it was smooth, easy. until he reached a peak of stress, and you managed to catch the brunt of it. lucky for you, Chris has always had a soft spot for you, and his apologies came in your favorite form. smut.
Professional or Stubborn?—a fight with DI!Chris about his poor work habits leads to him reminding you exactly why you put up with his poor work habits. smut.
Unraveled Desire—DBF!Chris simply can't deny himself the selfish pleasures he seeks anymore once he sees you after so long. smut.
His Flaw—Jealousy—Chris' jealousy gets the best of him, leading to his favorite outcome of sweat, arousal, and noises from you that only he could elicit. smut.
Risking A Right Swipe—Chris was never one to give into his needs, especially not his need for a lover. He was afraid it'd be useless and it wouldn't last for one reason or another. Claire thought otherwise, so she took it upon herself to fix that for him. Upon being forced into dating apps, you find him, and sparks fly. smut, fluff.
Frustrations—Chris doesn't often handle his bad days like this, and he can't take it out on his new recruits who caused said bad day, so who's better to help with that than his pretty wife who's oh so willing to let him have his way with her? smut.
Overdue Adjustments—RE1!Chris and his domme who knows exactly how to handle him and his attitude. smut.
Fulfilling Requests—RE1!Chris wanted to try something new, so he asked you about edging, only to end up in a much more compromising position than he'd predicted
Peace, At Last—just a drabble for domestic life with Chris. fluff.
Obsessions—a tiny piece about Chris and his grabby, greedy hands >:3 smut.
Releasing Tension—re1!chris had his fair share of bad days, and most times, they'd be fixed in normal ways with you. but tonight was harder, you just wouldn't let him breathe. so he had to get you to shut up somehow.
Homecoming Surprises—Chris walking in on his wife after a shower and reminding her just how badly he's wrapped around her finger. smut.
Surprises & Discoveries—after returning from Romania, Chris is... different. None of the changes make sense until a full moon during the trip you'd planned for him... how ironic is that?. smut.
Harmless Misunderstandings—marriage with Chris after so long means spicing things up. You tried, but Chris had other plans. smut.
Ease Into Love—Chris knew you had your preferences to wait for marriage, but when the time finally came, the reveal that you were a virgin, Chris made it his mission to give you a damn good first time when you were ready. smut.
Loving Epiphanies—chris realizing that he's got a thing for you after he nearly loses you after a hard mission. fluff.
New Beginnings—chris had always thought his life was full after meeting you, but lately, he yearns for more, desperate to have a little more. he wants a kid. really badly. smut.
Part two of 'New Beginnings'—after finally verifying that you were indeed pregnant, Chris has spent an unhealthy amount of time trying to ensure your comfort and safety. fluff.
Part three of 'New Beginnings'—mid-late pregnancy was a stress in itself, but despite your cravings, your sore body, your ever-growing belly, Chris never wavered in his love and excitement. fluff.
Part four of 'New Beginnings'—starting a new chapter with Chris and your twin daughters was much, much harder than either of you could've imagined, but chris has made it bearable. fluff, comfort.
Quirks & Habits—blurb for Chris and his wife with silly quirks and subconscious habits. fluff.
Chris & Leon Links
Unplanned Adventures—ending up in a bed with two older guys in a hotel wasn't the plan for your friday night, but boy, you sure weren't regretting it. smut.
Claire Redfield Links
New Teachings—thinking about older!claire and her younger gf who's never had sex, nor ever touched another woman. smut.
Clark Kent Links
A Night to Remember—after randomly revealing you're a virgin, clark wants to give you the perfect first time. smut.
Clark's Guilty Pleasure—drabble of sucking clark's dick. smut.
Unspoken Truths—after he accidentally reveals that he's superman, and you successfully keep his secret while being his roommate, he finds himself subconsciously telling you more about him and being softer than usual, and he thinks he's blessed by the damn gods when he gets a chance with you. smut, fluff, slow burn.
Sweet Interruptions—clark is working late at home, but you hate seeing him so stressed, and he can't deny temptation from his favorite girl. smut.
Lifetime Membership—after a work party with clark and the rest of the Daily Planet, you had some lingering thoughts that needed reassuring. Clark is always there to provide. :) fluff/comfort
Unwrapping Fantasies—clark finds the small stash of toys you've kept for the nights he wasn't available, and he really wants to see them in action, and maybe figure out how to make things better without the toys. smut.
Right There Next to Me—after so many failed dates from dating apps, always followed up by clark keeping you company, one late night, you realize that maybe clark is the kind of guy you've been searching for, and he's definitely not complaining (he's been in love with you for ages). fluff and smut.
Lois Lane Links
After Hours—late night fun with lois at the office :3. smut drabble
Robert Robertson Links
Crossing Lines—After meeting you, the new dispatcher, Robert's good intentions of being friends and pillars for each other become blurred, the lines falling apart when robert begins to think differently, making things awkward and leading to a new tension that needs to be solved. smut, fluff-ish, slow burn.
Thawing Out—after recently becoming a secret fwb situation, during one of your nights together, you're both a little too deep into drinks, and robert gets a little too clingy and comfortable. smut.
Angry Affection—as an ex villain with your own grudge against heroes, you weren't particularly tickled by the fact that your boss was an ex hero who had definitely almost gotten you caught a few times. Robert Robertson was a pain to work with for a long while, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he didn't hate you like you claimed to hate him. smut, slow burn-ish.
Blonde Blazer Links
First Kisses—first kisses with blonde blazer/Mandy. fluff.
all RE fic dividers credit to @condybunny !! their dividers are so adorbs!!
So i got struck by the lightning, and by lightning i meant a dirty thought obviously that involved our dear lord and savior resident daddy Leon Kennedy.
I thought about reader (Leon's GF) being frustrated at him after an argument or something that went wrong which resulted in him getting the silent treatment.
So instead reader threw herself into work and anything else to distract her from her emotions and avoid the inevitable argument, only for Leon to obviously try and stop her from doing such thing when he noticed how bad it had affected her,
But obviously pettiness being one of her greatest trait, she gave him the cold shoulder and went out alone, on a shopping spree to murder his bank account as a punishment (which let's be real, it'll barely make a dent in his savings and she's not even the type to splurge usually),
But yeah, she bought some things, for herself and for him too and when i said for him i meant smth naughty for her to wear for him and an actual gloves or watch for him, overpriced but it's the thought that counts.
And anyways long story short, she felt bad, they talked and then boom, filthy smut cause he wanted her to put on a show to show off what she had bought with his money, wink wink, especially the lingerie in his favorite shade of blue, nasty nasty smashing, some mirror scene and maybe, maybe even involving his phone's camera cause he just thought that you looked so good that he needed to take a picture so it'll last longer, (and maybe even a video too COUGHHH COUGH)
*Claps my hand*
ANYWAYS, i am sooo sorry if this was unnecessary long but this idea was simmering in my head and burning a hole through my brain, almost had to bite down on my fist as i pictures the scene perfectly, i just needed to get this out of my system cause honestly Leon is making me feel really insane right now, and i hope you're doing as amazing as your work out there!;> Sending Love🫶🏻
- 🐝
a/n; I will forever love some good post-make-up sex!!! and some lingerie show-offs, ooooh!😩 this is beautiful, thank you for requesting!! I hope I did the idea justice 🙏🏻
sum; after a petty fight over work and the apartment, you find yourself avoiding leon and trying to get a reaction out of him with a splurge with his money, the night ending with a much better reaction than you'd thought
content; vague reference to an argument, lingerie, unprotected sex, creampies, overstimulation, photos/recording, mirror sex, multiple positions
wc; 4.3k
"You're not going to talk to me?" Leon's voice cut through the thick silence of the kitchen. It was hardly past eight in the morning, just after breakfast, and you two had already fought. Something about his work, an upcoming mission, and something about your shared apartment becoming too cramped or how you didn't like living in an apartment building, despite the building being much, much nicer than the average.
You didn't respond. You continued washing the dishes, scrubbing at a stubborn patch of dried sauce from the other night's dinner. You didn't feel like continuing the argument, nor did you feel like making it worse with any further outbursts. Leon sighed.
"Fine. I'll see you after work." He stepped behind you, moving to give his usual cheek kiss, but you pulled away and gave him a stern look. He stared. "Fine." He repeated with a furrow in his brows, stepping away and turning on his heel to retrieve his bag from the hook by the front door. "I love you!" He called out as he stepped out the door. No response. He closed the door and groaned, forehead hitting against the doorframe.
Not much longer after he left, you found yourself thrown into work. You worked from home sometimes, and today was one of those days. You worked from about 9:00 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., a shorter but still productive day. When Leon could, he'd come home for lunch, and that's exactly what he did today.
When you emerged from your shared at home office, you paused when you saw Leon rummaging through the fridge. You inhaled sharply, only to turn when he straightened up and saw you. You walked off, finding your way to the bedroom to occupy yourself with laundry and changing the bed sheets. Leon sighed, following behind you. Thank God he had a decent lunch break.
"Sweetheart, please," he stopped you before you could carry the hamper into the hall, hands on your shoulders. "Can't we have lunch? I was going to warm our takeout leftovers from last night." He urged. "And it's not even laundry day." He added, head tilting. You had a schedule for everything—when to mop, when to do laundry, when to wash your hair, etc.—so the derailing of that schedule stuck out to Leon.
You stared at him. You stepped back and maneuvered around him, interrupting your schedule for the sake of staying busy. You heard him groan, his footsteps catching up quickly.
"I know you're mad, but please, don't work yourself into the ground. You said today was supposed to be a half day for work, and you were going to relax. You deserve to relax. Please." He insisted, but it felt like talking into a void. You didn't even look at him.
You piled the laundry into the washing machine, pouring in detergent and turning the knobs for the proper settings before you started it and went down the hall back to the living room. You grabbed your purse and keys, slipping on a pair of sneakers.
"Where are you going?" He sounded exasperated. He may be upset, annoyed, but he still needed to make sure you weren't going to go put yourself in danger just because you're mad at him.
"Shopping."
The first word since 8 a.m., so he took it. He sighed heavily. "Fine. Just.. be back by dinner, please? I'll have it ready tonight." He tried to sneak in a kiss, but you were already slipping out of his reach and out of the apartment.
God, he felt like a complete and utter idiot.
And so did you. On your way to shopping at various stores, you began to realize how silly you were being. Your frustration was valid, but the actions of the day were clearly wearing on Leon, and that made you feel bad. You pulled into the parking lot of the mall, checking your wallet and finding his card tucked into the leather, right next to the Polaroid you kept of you two on your first date. You frowned.
In the mall, you found yourself buying silly crap just to spend some money and possibly get on his nerves a little. You'd realize later that splurging did nothing to his financial situation, but that was a later problem. You bought a new necklace, some new clothes, and on your way out, you passed two stores opposite of each other. Victoria's Secret, and right across, sat a store with all kinds of things that Leon could use. Some better tactical gloves, a new watch since he had his old one absolutely destroyed by some creature, and even some different kinds of holsters.
You stopped into the lingerie store first, buying a new baby doll gown, two matching sets, a few lace bras with front clips, and a new perfume. Swiping the card was both exhilarating and guilt amplifying. You knew he'd get the notification on his phone with it being such an expensive purchase. To top it off and end off on a less guilty note, you found your way into the store across, peeking at the watches. One of the employees, a sweet younger lady, happily helped you pick out some heavy-duty gloves and a new watch that had an option for a regular clock or a digital clock—something new for him to figure out.
You arrived him just after your usual dinnertime, having taken time to regroup your thoughts in the car while also having stopped for a small ice cream cone. You walked into the door, and Leon peeked out from the kitchen, drying his hands. He stared at your abundance of shopping bags, but he didn't look angry—if anything, he seemed a little relieved.
"Dinners ready. Made your favorite. I went out and got you some cheesecake for dessert, if you want it." Leon spoke, setting the hand towel on the counter before he came to help you with your bags. He took the first two and paused when he saw the Victoria's Secret bag, but he cleared his throat and looked away.
"Don't get too excited. I'm still not happy." You mumbled, pulling the bag out of his view so he couldn't peek in. He chuckled. You followed him and the two of you dropped the bags in the bedroom and came back to the dinner table for food.
It was quiet for a while, but when Leon finished his dinner first, like usual, he stood up and found his way to the sink to begin washing the dishes for the night. You watched him. "How was shopping? Find anything cute?"
"Few things." You mumbled.
"Like?" He asked, acting like nothing had happened this morning.
The prodding of what you had bought only made you feel worse, a small whine leaving your throat as you looked down at your food. "Nothing that made me feel better." You exhaled.
Leon turned the faucet off, turning to you as he dried his hands and leaned back on the counter. "Are you ready to talk?" He asked, careful in his tone and message.
"I'm sorry." You dropped your face into your palms, groaning at yourself as you rubbed your face, like you were trying to wash away your frustrations. "I was mad. I was angry at you for how you talked to me this morning, about your job and the apartment, and I wanted a reaction, and I was being dumb." You spat finally. When you lifted your head, Leon was crouched next to your chair, turning you to face him.
"A splurge isn't gonna make me angry, or want to lecture you and make a big issue." He said, hands resting gently on your knees. "I know I was an ass this morning." He admitted, watching you slowly straighten up from your guilty slouch. "I shouldn't have been so dismissive toward you and your frustrations. It was stupid of me to get so whiney about simple needs and adjustments that you wanted to talk about."
"Yeah." You grumbled, looking down at your lap as you fidgeted with your nails. "I'm sorry, too." You mumbled. "I shouldn't have been so mean. I should've told you why I was mad when you came for lunch. I'm.. I should've tried a little harder to make you understand rather than keep arguing."
It was quiet for a moment until he rose to his full height again, bending forward to kiss you softly. Finally, you accepted it, happily meeting in the middle. He pulled back and brushed his thumb over your brow bone and smoothed your hair down.
"You still eating?" He asked. You nodded. "Finish up. I'll run a bath. It's been a while since we had a bath, and I think this calls for it."
"Not yet. I still have to try stuff on before I wrap up the night." You turned back to your food, taking another bite.
Leon's soft expression turned mischievous, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. "Would it be too hopeful if I asked for a little haul?" He asked, voice pitched just a touch higher than normal.
"Finish the dishes, and I'll consider it." You said through a mouthful of food.
"Mmh, yes ma'am." He gave a quick snap of his fingers and those clumsy finger guns before he turned and went back to the sink to finish up.
After finishing your food, you rinsed the plate and handed it to him for him to scrub and rinse clean. You stepped back and stared at him—gaze dropping down, only to rise, and repeat a few times until he turned around and you did it exactly the same way again. "Yeah. Yeah. You're lucky you're hot." You mumbled, walking off to make your way down the hall to the bedroom.
"Wha—hey! What's that mean?!" He laughed, rushing to follow you. He found you rummaging through the bags to find your lingerie bag. He came up behind you to get his hands on you, only for you to slip away and swat his hands.
"Uh-uh. Haul time, not touch time." You huffed. "And look in that blue bag. I got you some stuff. Well, you paid, I got it, so it's more the thought that counts." You said, pointing over to the bag that had his new gloves and watch. Leon snickered and sat on the bed as he took the items out while you disappeared into the bathroom and changed. He took out the watch first, opening the box and gasping slightly.
"Damn! How much was this? Thing looks futuristic." He scoffed with astonishment, already moving to slip it onto his wrist. He pressed a button and watched the digital square light up, the background still blank with a regular analog clock. He adjusted the watch band and took out the gloves next, trying them on and humming.
"You like 'em?" You called out from behind the cracked bathroom door. Before he could respond, you stepped out in a white, fluff-hemmed baby doll lingerie piece with pretty lace panties to match. You leaned against the doorway, doing a little shimmy to show the way it flowed just below your hips.
He looked up, eyes wide. "Oh, I like. I like a lot." He stood up, only for you to stop him.
"Uh-uh. I have options. Sit back down."
"Oh, fuck, seriously?" He groaned. "You're killin' me, sweetheart." He pouted, sitting back down. You giggled and returned to the bathroom, changing into the red set that you found. You stepped back out and did a spin, watching his eyes flick up and down. "Red looks nice on you."
"You'll like the other set better." You grinned.
"Ooh, c'mon, you might kill me before I even get to see it."
"Suck it up and be patient." You said, stepping back into the bathroom to change into the dark blue set. The lace was decorated with small, intricate flowers, the trim of the cups threaded with a white ribbon that led straight down the middle and met at the bottom of the valley between your breasts in a cute little bow. The panties had the same thing. When you stepped out, Leon didn't have the boldness to make a snide comment or be flirty, he just sat there and stared, admiration in his eyes as he traced your body up and down.
"You're not even gonna tell me I look pretty?" You feigned offense, a pout forming over your lips. He stumbled over his own feet and met you halfway, taking you by the hips.
"You leave me speechless." He mumbled, leaning in for a deep kiss. He cupped your cheek to tilt your head, encouraging you to let yourself melt into it.
His other hand slid down from your hip, slipping behind to grope your butt and pull you in closer, his pelvis meeting yours as he backed you up against a wall, right next to your tall mirror that you used to get ready. He pulled his head back and peeked over to the side, glancing at you and then the mirror. He looked back at you, down at the lingerie. He tugged you forward and spun you around, making you squeak as he put you in front of the mirror, your hands pushed out to keep your body from being fully against the mirror.
"God, look at how fucking beautiful you are." He purred, moving to kiss along your shoulders and nape, a low groan leaving him as he felt you press back against him, reaching one hand back to grab his wrist and guide his hand back to your hip.
"Lee," you breathed, head falling forward against the mirror.
"Keep your head up. Look at yourself." He mumbled, nipping at your nape and eliciting a light squeak. You lifted your head and looked at him through the mirror. "Eyes on you, not me." He reminded gently.
"Asshole." You huffed.
"Mmh, I know, but you love me." He grinned. With you focused on yourself instead of him, he slipped his hands down, one hand stopping while the other slid down to press your thighs apart and find its home over the gusset of your panties. He ground his palm against your clit, letting you buck your hips in response. He gave a sound similar to approval when your thighs squeezed around his hand. He swatted your thigh gently with his free hand, making you open up once more with a reluctant whine.
He slid the gusset of the panties to the side, middle finger slowly circling your clit in tight, firm motions. You shivered, lips parting in a breathy, shaky sigh of relief. "Oh, fuck." You hissed lightly as his fingers slid down, thumb replacing the stimulation on your clit as he eased two fingers down to your dripping entrance, circling it and spreading your wetness along your pussy lips. He continued teasing your hole, crcling your clit, until you bucked impatiently, one hand reaching to grab his wrist.
"Keep teasing and I might fuck myself in front of you and blue ball you all night." You scowled, but there was no real heat or anger, just desperation and need.
He snickered, head tilting down to kiss your shoulder. "Mmh, I know," he purred. "I just wanted to get you a little warmed up."
With that, he pulled back and tugged his belt undone, pushing them down with his boxers to shimmy them down and kick them aside before he pressed his chest to your back. You nudged him. "Shirt off. The fabric is annoying." You grumbled. He chuckled, tugging he shirt over his head and tossing it aside before reassuming his position.
He took his cock into his hand, stroking it a couple of times before he lined up with your wetness. He nudged your thighs further apart and tugged your hips back, one hand sliding up your waist and to your front to help you straighten up to look at yourself properly. As you straightened your back and stood before the reflection, Leon pushed forward, and your head fell back, thighs quivering as you clutched onto his wrist and forearm for support.
"'ve got you," he soothed, low and smooth in your ear as he lifted you slightly, your toes barely touching the ground as he held you up by your hips and waist, letting your body adjust slightly before he pulled his hips back and pushed forward, making you squeak and curl up slightly. He used his head to nudge yours upright, making you look at yourself as he suspended you in the air with pure strength and stamina, cock pumping back and forth inside of you.
"Oh, my god," you mewled, thighs quivering and closing tight as your feet hung helplessly, toes curling.
"Fuck," he grunted. Your back arched, bottom pressing against his pelvis as he thrusted back and forth, the rhythm hardly there as his cock penetrated your pussy in fast, shallow thrusts, the tip of his cock just meeting your cervix. You cried out, feet kicking back at his shins and desperately searching for something to stabilize yourself on. He tugged you higher, making you squeak. One of his strong arms held you at the spot just below your ribcage, while the other hand held your hip and let his hand wander down between your thighs, two fingers finding your clit to pinch and massage the little nub. Your head fell back against him, eyes rolling back. He watched it all through the mirror—your body rippling with the intensity of his thrusts, your thighs quivering and feet dangling and kicking, your head fallen back as your mouth hung open with loud, incoherent words of desperation left your lips.
"Oh, fuck, shhh—shit, Leon!" You gasped, body tensing as you felt your climax approach rapidly.
"C'mon, don't be shy. Watch yourself while you cum on my cock." He practically growled, lowering you just enough to let you stand on your own. He kept one arm around you, hand still torturing your sensitive clit while the other hand slid upward and came to grab your face, forcing you to look at the mirror and keep your focus there. Your brows knitted together, eyes darting back and forth between watching him fondle and play with you and watching your face like he had demanded. You cried, lips quivering as his fingers dug into your chin, making it harder for you to look away.
"God, Lee, 'm gonna cum—fuck!" You squealed, gasping for air as you felt all the tension reach a peak, lingering there for a long moment—your muscles all pulled taut, eyes rolling back—until finally, it snapped, falling apart in his arms as he followed suit almost immediately. While you pulsed around his girth, gushing warmth and coating the base of his cock in a thick, white ring, he followed suit and let himself go, cum pumping almost dramatically into your twitchy cunt. You shivered, completely limp against him.
While you were dazed and distracted, Leon took the chance to reach for his phone on your vanity, clicking the camera open and holding it up. You barely processed it when you heard the click, the sound making you lift your head and glare at him.
"Seriously?" You whined.
"You look so good in my favorite color." He purred, kissing along your shoulder and neck.
Leon slowly retracted his hips, gentle as he lifted you and carried you back to the bed, laying you down and crawling atop of you, hips slotting between your open legs. He held his phone out to you. "Mmh?" You looked up at him, brows knit in confusion.
"Hold it for a second." He muttered, shifting to pull your hips closer as he leaned down and kissed your breasts over the lace of the lingerie. You held his phone lazily, glancing at the dark screen before he kissed his way down and tugged the panties aside again, watching the mess begin to slowly seep out. He reached and took the phone back and navigated his way to the camera, quickly pressing record as he used two fingers to gently spread your folds and let the cum become more visible on camera. Before you could scold him or tell him how nasty he was, he plunged the same two fingers into you, using the pads of his fingertips to drag out the cum and make you whine as he pressed the phone camera closer.
"I barely forgive you and you're already taking the chance to record me like this?" You squirmed as he pulled his fingers out fully and rose to his knees, slotting in closer to press his already hard cock against your thigh, the phone held higher as his free hand came down to grasp his length lining it back up with your already sensitive cunt. You mewled softly as the tip nudged in, making your thighs close around him. He breathed a soft moan as he put the camera lower and adjusted the angle to properly show how your pussy engulfed him and practically swallowed his cock as he eased forward.
"Lee—mmh!" You mewled, thighs shaking and squeezing around him as he bottomed out and ground his hips lazily into you. He keeps himself upright, dragging back and forth slowly, the camera zeroed in on the slick mess you're leaving on his girth, the way your pussy is stretched over him, twitchy and tight. He pulls out all the way to the tip, only to push back in and make your body squeeze up, back arching.
"Fuck, you're so pretty. So perfect." He breathed, camera adjusting to capture your chest as he took his other hand and palmed your breast. He tugged the lace of the bra down, letting it lay beneath the fat of your breast before his rough palm came to grope and squeeze at the mound. You groaned, pushing your chest against his palm as you reached down to lazily press against his lower abdomen, whimpering faintly at his thrusts growing in intensity.
"Lee—Leon, oh!" You gasped in response to his fingers pinching and rolling your pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Fuck," you shivered, head rolling to the side.
"C'mon," he hissed. "I know you're close already," he purred, panting as he raised the camera higher and captured the entirety of the scene before him, all but your face since you kept hiding it when the camera would twitch too high. He didn't want to push his luck any more than he already was.
He moved his hand off your tit, pulling the lace back up to sit comfortably before his previously busy hand came down, thumb finding your clit to rub along the nub with firm, tight circles. You jolted, another gasp being pulled from you. He continued, your nails clawing into his forearm as you twitched and shook beneath him, nerves overwhelmed and overworked. Leon really did love how sensitive you were.
"Yknow, maybe we should try going another round after this." He grinned, glancing up at you to find your face half-buried into your pillow, a wet spot beginning to pool where your mouth was due to the fact you couldn't shut your mouth, hair mussed and probably getting knotted from all your squirming.
"F-fuck yo—oooh!" You cried out, legs clamping around him and pulling him in closer. You bit onto the pillow the best you could, hips squirming against and away from him at the same time. And before you could warn him, the knot finally snapped in your lower belly, a loud sob of pleasure leaving your throat.
"Shh, shh," he tossed the phone aside, letting the camera be forgotten as he worked you through it, cooing sweet praise and soft reassurance as he chased his own high. He wasn't far behind, but he needed to put in a little more effort and focus now that he had you satisfied. In your dazed state, you slapped around for his phone and found it, grabbing it with trembling hands and holding it up to record him.
"Hah—how do you l-like it?" You stammered, watching his nose scrunch both from your sass and his approaching climax. Only a few thrusts later, and he was throwing his head back, lips parted in heavy groans melting into shaky moans as his cum spilled, balls twitching and emptying into you. You shivered, dropping the phone next to you as he leaned above you and met you for a slow, passionate kiss.
It was sloppy, but full. Full of love, satisfaction, and tenderness in its own way. Leon slowly pulled out, sighing against your lips. "I've got such a sexy wife." He huffed, making you smack his chest.
"Shut up." You breathed, slowly moving to sit upright. Leon helped you, fixing your panties and pushing your hair out of the way. You leaned forward against him. He chuckled, moving to lift you into his lap.
"You're amazing." He murmured, hands soothing up and down your sides and back. "I love you." He mused, squeezing tighter around yous waist.
"I love you." You murmured back, kissing his collarbone before you caught a glimpse of the phone. "It's still recording."
"Mmh, maybe it's a sign." He grinned, head diving to kiss and nip at your neck. You were quick to swat his shoulder and dive off to the side, shaky but firm as you stood from the bed.
"Not a chance." You said with a huff, legs already shaking as you bent at the hips to hold onto the bedside table for stability. He laughed, pressing the button to stop the recording as he moved to stand with you.
"I'm just teasing. C'mon, we can wash off and then soak in the bath. And if you want, we can talk more about the apartment situation." He pressed an apologetic kiss to your temple, helping you toward the bathroom.
"That... that would be nice." You murmured, nodding.
One of my favorite things to do if I don't know a word is to look it up, obviously. Then I also have a physical journal that I use to write down the word, the definition(s), and when and where I encountered the word. It's part of a larger project I'm doing that I hope to show off eventually, but filling up this journal with words is gonna take a while lol.
If anyone has any obscure or complex words, I'd love to learn them! A word specific to your field or hobby of interest. A word we don't use as much anymore. A word that someone can say to sound smart. A word that makes you feel something. I want it all!
