naoya’s ex wifey

- 24- ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴛ - ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱᴋꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ- “Who’s your favorite charac-“ guess. Comms on pause Hiatus

[zenin-problem]

ＡＢＯＵＴ ＭＥ！

ZENIN-PROBLEM'S MASTERLIST

Naoya's #1 fan - Naoya haters DNI (only if you're toxic)

Brooklyn, she/they, 24 , jjk and Naoya enthusiast - I love Shane and Seb from stardew.

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​​ ᴀꜱᴋꜱ, ᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛꜱ, ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ

MY BRUSHES

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[leonsleatherjacket]

tired! inexperienced! younger! reader x re9!leon (part 3!)

tags: smut, p in v, cunnilingus, reader's first time, intimate and gentle, fingering, lots of kisses and reassurances, praise, 20 year age gap, aftercare

note: the very much awaited part 3 smut is here. please enjoy, i tried to make it as loving as possible, as two emotionally guarded people finally allow themselves to be vulnerable with one another.

summary: after getting into an argument in leon's car, leon appears at your door, confessing his feelings, eventually, you two end up kissing on your couch.

leon sat up, patting his lap. "come here."

you did so obediently, feeling this unbearable heat flush in your cheeks and this stirring warmth settle low in your stomach. his rough fingers stroked your cheek, gazing at you adoringly, finding it hard to believe the fingers that have touched the biggest horrors to mankind were now touching the most precious thing he had ever seen.

"you sure you want to do this?" he murmured softly, almost a purr.

you nodded shyly, wanting to burying your face in your palms. his gaze was so intense you couldn't fathom how someone like him, so experienced and so attractive, could want you.

"gone so quiet, hm? don't be shy, hun," he pulled you into a kiss, brushing your bottom lip, then your chin. his hair tickled your chin as he started kissing your neck. your slender fingers found their way around his back instinctively, pressing your body against his.

you felt safe, his strong arms holding your waist, his cologne rubbing off on your skin. you were basking in him.

"taste so sweet," he mumbled, nibbling on the bare skin between your neck and shoulder. the vibrations from his deep voice sent hot waves down your body, a small whimper leaving your lips. you could feel him pause for a split second, and then returning to your neck.

becoming aware of the tension beneath you, you felt something stiffen, rubbing gently against your crotch. the movement was subtle and restrained, the kind of movement that someone allowed only when they weren't sure if they were allowed it at all.

everything was overwhelming, one minute his hands were softly tracing over your waist, the next minute they were nudging you closer to him, all while his mouth was licking your neck.

he noticed your stillness, leaning back to look at you.

"everything okay?" he asked, his head tilting.

you hesitated. "...can i lead?"

a faint smirk grew on his lips, but it was rather soft than teasing, in fact, he seemed rather relieved. "go ahead."

you began sloppily kissing him, hungry for him, spit briefly connecting your lips to his. his prickly stubble grazed your chin. his hands rested firmly on your hips as he leant back on your couch, enjoying the attention you were giving him.

you pulled off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and pajama bottoms. a choking sound left his lips before he cleared his throat - as if he revealed more than he meant to.

"god, you're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes tracing over your body. he didn't notice your fingers brushing over the seam of the bottom of that tight compression shirt he likes to wear.

"can i?" you asked quietly, drawing his attention away from your face to your fingers.

"i'm all yours, sweetheart."

your stomach fluttered at the new pet name, and your fingers hooked under his shirt, helping him lift it over his head.

what sat in front of you was a body comparable to those statues carved by one of those ancient greek sculptors, his well-defined muscles softly lit by the moonlight spilling from your windows. thin silver threads of scars weaved around his skin, some thicker than others. your eyes slowly drifted along his neck, faintly covered in your lipstick, and then over his black and grey stubble, and finally to his face.

"not bad for an old man like me, huh?" he said lightly.

you chuckled, and held his chin, sandwiching it between your thumb and index finger, squeezing it. you let go of his chin, planting kissing along his chest, hoping that each kiss would take away each scar. his fingers were toying around with the waistband of your pajama bottoms, waiting for permission rather than taking it.

"take this upstairs?"

"take this upstairs." you nodded.

without another word, one arm scooped under your knees and then another under your back. your soft cheek rested against his solid chest, carrying you through the quiet of your house. he placed you on your floral-patterned duvet that was neatly folded up.

he paused for a second to take in the beauty that was laid across the bed in front of him. the way the light that slipped from your curtains, rippling onto your skin and catching the little silver charm that was tied onto the middle of your bra.

you were so gorgeous in all your youth, it made him a little self-conscious.

he knelt onto the bed, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your pajama bottoms. your placed your hands on top of his, guiding them downwards. a shared smiled passed between you as the fabric slid away.

your bra matched your panties. cute, he thought.

his fingers softly wrapped around your ankle, carefully guiding it upwards until it rested on his shoulder. he leaned into you, his perfect nose brushed against it as he peppered slow, lingering kisses along your foot while his other hand was cupped around your thigh - his pinky finger rubbing against your panties.

his kisses branched along your shin, growing sloppier and sloppier until he licks from your ankle to your knee.

"every time i see your legs in the office, with those high heels- those pantyhose," he breathily whispered while continuing to press his lips against your skin, "all i wanted was those legs on my shoulders."

his face was rubbing up against your inner thigh, the most sensitive part of your legs. he pushed his lips against it, then sucked harshly. at the sudden contact, you let out a small squeal, your hand immediately clutching his head, grabbing a handful of his hair. your feet were digging into his shoulders as he was laid down, leaving dark marks across your thighs.

"this okay?" he asked, his icy eyes peeking up at you from between your thighs, your hand still tightly locked around his hair.

"y-yeah," you stuttered, "i just can't believe we are doing this."

he let out a small hum which vibrated against your skin. "i'm glad you feel safe enough with me to do this."

you smiled at him before he licked against your panties, your eyes flicking upwards as he licked at the cloth that separated him and your sensitive bud. his finger hooked under the side and the cool air caressed your pussy.

your panties slid off, and he tucked them into the back of his pocket.

your cheeks got hotter, terrified of what he thought. no one had ever seen you like this - you'd never even come close to letting them.

"so gorgeous, sweetheart," his warm breath tickled your thigh before he pressed his lips against your folds. his tongue slowly moved upwards, the warm soft feeling along your pussy made you whine and jerk away from him. his big safe hands wrapped around your ass and thighs, holding you securely in place. "even your pussy tastes sweet, can't get enough of you, baby."

he began to lap at your folds, his nose brushing against your clit. a smile grew on his lips as he heard your desperate mewls, your hips buckling and urgently rubbing against his face. the sounds of his tongue working circles around and around your clit before suckling on it filled the room alongside your moans.

the pleasure that started to wave through your body was enough to see stars, his stubble brushing along your pussy - adding to the stars he was stringing in your mind. you fingers weaved through his hair, pulling on it as the exhales from his nose tickled the top of your pussy. he began to work faster in your folds, receiving a high-pitched panty wail. his chuckle dissolved within the lewd squelching noises between your thighs. the mattress began to bounce as he started to hump your duvet, a moan leaving his lips as he let go of your clit.

he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your fluids. you whined at the loss of warmth between your thighs.

"so needy, baby, it's okay," he cooed, his fingers lacing around his belt, unbuckling it with a haste as he saw your gaze focus around his erection.

"leon, i don't- i don't have any condoms," you pushed yourself up, leaning on your elbows.

god, you were so beautiful. your pouty pillowy lips, slightly wet from drooling. the pink dusting on your cheeks. and you were looking at him if he hung the stars. how could he resist you?

"ah, fuck," he cursed, his cheeks heating as he fastened his belt again, "of course you don't."

"it's okay, just pull out." you sat up, slithering your hand around his.

"you sure?" he asked, watching your hand inch closer to his belt, "i don't want your first time to-"

"leon, i said it's okay," you murmured, undoing his belt and rubbing the hard length that was covered by the fabric of his pants.

"i'm getting you a plan b tomorrow morning though," he tried to hide the smirk tugging on his lips. his hands slid around your waist, slowly bringing you back down the mattress.

he pressed his two fingers to your lips, his mouth latching onto your neck again. you started licking the two digits, sucking and drooling onto them. his body caging you underneath him in a protectiveness you had never seen before. he eventually released the two fingers and slid them through your folds, your body recoiled at the touch, and a scream flew past your lips.

"ow- fuck, leon!" you gasped, your hand snatching his wrist out of reflex.

he looked mortified with himself, quickly retracting his fingers. he shifted his body so he was leaning on his side and pushed your hair away from your face.

"is everything okay?" his eyes frantically searched yours for an answer.

"yeah.. it, it just hurts, i'm sorry," you apologised, tears brimming at your eyes.

"don't apologise, sweetheart." he reassured, his lips brushing on your cheek, his voice so close that the vibration of it made your mind melt, "do you want to try again?"

you nodded. "we can try again."

"i'll be slow and gentle this time," he spoke softly as his fingers approached your entrance again, a slight pain at first, but then it shifted into pleasure. your body relaxed, and a moan slipped from your lips.

"good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"l-leon, s'feels so good," you slurred, your head falling back onto his shoulder. "i need you," your hand held onto his wrist that was rubbing along your sides.

you both momentarily looked at each other, realising you had both been waiting for this longer than you'd allow yourselves to admit.

you arched into his touch as his thumb made his way to your clit, making you release sweet moans of his name. squelches of your pussy sucking in his fingers filled the room while they hit repeatedly against a spot that built a knot in your stomach. his fingers were coated in your slick, making a mess of the duvet that was underneath.

"you think you ready for my cock baby? you're doing so good," he kissed your flushed cheek.

"yeah, i jus' need you," you whispered, your eyes turning into the kitten-like eyes he saw when he first met you.

"i need you too," he whispered back, licking your bottom lip and chin and pulling out his two fingers. he began to shift his underwear off, his tip peeking through the fabric. "you comfortable?"

you nodded and shifted your legs around him. you gasped as he prodded his tip at your entrance.

"i'm going to go slowly. i don't want to hurt you, my sweet girl," he hummed, his hand cupping your cheek, rubbing small circles into your cheek before holding your leg up.

"o-ohkay," you panted breathily, your mouth slightly parted and your legs spread around him.

he let out a grunt as he pushed the tip past your folds, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. you let out another high-pitched moan, looking up at him through a blurry vision. the painful stretch burned into pleasure.

"tell me when you're ready for more,"

you gasped, feeling completely full already - so overwhelmed by the feeling that you felt paralysed with pleasure.

"i-i'm ready," you whimpered, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders.

"doing s'good for me," he murmured.

you thought he had completely filled you, until he let out a groan and pushed even more, pure bliss in every inch.

"oh god, you're so tight," he let out something comparable to a whine.

"ah- leon!" you cried out, your feet clutching around his waist. your back arched like a cat, your head thrown back. "keep goin',"

the first thrust was slow, you felt the loss of him lingering in your walls and then the overwhelming gain of him filling you up. you were just letting out sweet moans, your warm breath against his collarbone. just looking at you was going to make him cum. your lips parted, your head turning to the side, your eyes fluttering shut before you found him again. it was a sight he thought he never would've seen, a sight he thought was pure fantasy, a sight he convinced himself existed only in imagination.

you caught his stare and offered him the prettiest smile, the corner of your eyes creasing in a way that made his chest tighten. moonlight traced your lashes and he thought, just for a second, that he found the warmth of the sun rather than the night. he exchanged the smile, his forehead resting against yours as his hips slowly meet yours again, ever so gently like you were the most precious thing in existence - worried the moment might break if he rushed it.

skin met skin, hands holding into one another's flesh, the loving tender kisses between breaths. it all felt as if your souls were merging together, allowing each other to appreciate and make love to your rawest, most vulnerable forms. as if the two of you only wanted to absorb all the other's pain and bring it back in the form of love.

the two of you, so used to your lonely routine, unravelled in each other's touch. the bliss of it all was something you couldn't let go of. nothing about it felt rushed or wrong; you knew you were meant to be held so closely to him.

"leon, i'm gonna cum." you whined, the knot built quicker, a high you had to chase, your desperation had you meeting his thrusts.

"cum for me, baby, you've done so, so well," he whispered, pressing another kiss on your forehead as his movements grew deeper, hitting against a spongy spot that made you think you were going to faint from holding anything in. the sensation had your thoughts scattering, the knot tightening until you couldn't hold it in anymore. his breathing turned uneven, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, not himself but on you. "do it, don't hide your moans- i wanna- wanna hear your sweet voice,"

his thumb began to rub against your clit and surges of pleasure came crashing down.

"leon!" you screamed, your back arching higher. he shifted himself upwards so he was on his knees, still thrusting into you and helping you ride out your high as he clutched his big hands around your thighs while your legs were shaking uncontrollably. you thought you were going to pass out, the pleasure was too much to handle.

small moans were drawn from you as you recovered from your orgasm, and then a huge gasp as leon pulled out of you.

"i'm gonna fucking cum-," he whimpered, his hands digging into your leg as his body stuttered forward, white pearly ropes falling onto your stomach. whines of your name left his throat while his head leant back, his adam's apple more prominent than before. as the last few beads of cum left his tip, his body collapsed onto yours, his fluid sticking your stomach against his.

you both panted against each other, the rise and fall of chests synchronising. he lifted his head up, laying his lips on your temple and stroking your hair from your face with careful fingers.

"i want you," he murmured, his pale blue eyes searching for something in yours. words were his weakness, or being poetic or whatever it was girls loved. so instead his thumb brushed your cheek, hoping you understood what he couldn't explain.

you were good with words. you could envision exactly what you wanted to say to him, but your mouth was a barrier. a quiet fear you couldn't push through, so you settled for something smaller, something you could manage:

"will you stay the night?"

he paused, and then scoffed, slightly insulted by the thought of you thinking he would leave after all of this.

"is that even a question? of course i will,"

peeling yourselves away from each other, you watched his cum string between both of your stomachs.

"where are your towels?" he asked, a creeping awkwardness settling between the two of you. neither of you knew what to say next now everything was slow and silent.

you wanted to fend it off, to make sure the moment wasn't broken, but you couldn't muster up the words to ease the situation.

"bathroom, on the left."

he came back with a white towel draped over his shoulder and a glass of water, placing the glass on the bedside table.

"drink." he commanded, you rolled your eyes a little at his monosyllabic approach but you did so anyway while he cleaned up your stomach.

you raised your arm, inviting him into your bed. "come here."

he slid in as you giggled, his broad frame that was covered in his dark hair, holding you amongst your white floral duvet and your pink lace-trimmed pillows. he was a princess.

"this is a very you bed," he chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around you.

"i think you match it pretty well," you teased, melting into his touch, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

"i look out of place," he replied, leaning his head against yours, his eyes taking in your room.

your hand absentmindedly traced hearts into his chest, your fingers tickling against the hairs.

"you're drawing something."

"alright, mr observant," you said, a smirk playing on your lips.

"hearts?"

"maybe."

a silence settled between the two of you.

"you good with this? after everything?" leon asked, despite you in his arms.

"with you?" your finger stilled, "i don't feel like running or shutting you out."

"good."

you looked up at him, your hand reaching out to stroke your thumb along his eyebrow, then the other, pulling them apart from the furrowed knitted knot they were always in.

"hey-"

you burst out laughing. "i've always wanted to do that."

he sighed, pulling you closer to him, as if he was trying to absorb you, as if he was trying to memorise the shape of you.

"you sure you're okay?" he mumbled, his thumb rubbing circles around your shoulder. "not just saying it?"

"how many times do you need me to tell you?" you teased, pinching his cheek. he caught your wrist and pulled it away, only to grab your chin and squeeze your cheeks.

"just wanted to hear it again," he whispered, letting go of your face.

"i'm happy, leon. you're not going to run in the morning and pretend this never happened?"

"i drove through a storm, told you i would eat my own fingers to see you and stood at your porch like an idiot. i think i am beyond committed now," his voice was laced with a quiet laugh.

"good," you chuckled a little, "i'm not going anywhere either."

"i'm not good at... normal. but i don't want distance between us again," he admitted, sounding a little stiff. you stilled, knowing your brain hated these vulnerable conversations so much, but you knew that you had to let yourself feel these feelings, so you forced yourself to stay, rather than to retreat to silence.

"it won't happen unless you run first," you said.

"not planning on it." he pressed one last kiss to your temple that night, settling his head against yours.

author's note:

sorry if this was shit, it is my first time writing smut and i haven't had pleasant experiences of intimacy in the past. i have also stayed up incredibly late to finish this. i wasn't really trying to make this wanking material, more so the decision between two guarded people being vulnerable with one another after years of pining. trying to heal myself with this lmfao...

[priscilladawn]

Older!Boyfriend Leon Kennedy ♡ Younger!Reader

Older!Boyfriend Leon Kennedy who's a "do you like it?" Guy rather than a "do you want it?" Guy. Without any hesitation, as soon as he hears your lips open with the word "yes," he's instantly looking for your size, maybe even different colors of whatever it is this time, and placing it in the cart.

Older!Boyfriend Leon Kennedy that complains about the hoard of plushies overflowing your bed every time he stays over at your apartment. Complaining about how it "builds a barrier" in between the two of you, immediately groaning and dramatically sighing like the old man he is as he places stuffed animals on the chair in the corner--never on the floor, he learned his lesson with that one.

Older!Boyfriend Leon Kennedy who takes you on vacations as many times as your job allows it. Of course, at least one place the two of you visit on every trip has to do with some historical event that he spends the entire time explaining to you. Even when you aren't with him on his vacations, he'll always bring you back a souvenir and some candy. And of course, he'll always send at least one cheesy postcard.

Older!Boyfriend Leon Kennedy that has his phones font size set to the biggest and the boldest. Yes, he scrolls with his free hands pointer finger. Oh, and occasionally furrows his eyebrows and squints his eyes, moving the phone closer and farther away from him, trying to read a text message without his glasses.

Older!Boyfriend Leon Kennedy who despite the age gap, can't help to fantasize what the future will look like with you. He's in his 50's, his time is running out, you both know that. Him standing on one knee asking you those four most important words your lives is right around the corner, you standing in a white dress a little further down. You're the one that turned his dull, boring, depressed life around. Why not add one more to that happiness?

Just something quick I typed up with handsome requiem Leon in mind!! I love you all, stay safe!! - Priscilla 💝

[nymphmanics-deactivated20260423]

i get so wet off that old white man cock

[dollyivy]

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY whose levels of stress have reached an all time high — late at night, after a disgustingly rough mission, he finds you at home, sleeping, nested under a cozy blanket. cute. he’s quick to pull it off you and he buries the tip of his nose down the nape of your neck; his lips graze your soft skin, one muscular arm wrapped snuggly around your bare waist.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who is secretly such a dirty old pervert. he dreams of your pussy walls swallowing his cock whole with his eyes wide open. it wouldn’t even be the first time and he’s done this before— using you to relieve his never ending stress and waking you up in the middle of the night with his balls pounding against your ass, fingers pressed against your puffy clit; one boob always warm inside his mouth, his tongue flicking around your sweet nipple. you’re just as addicted to this as leon is.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY whose calloused fingers rest on the cold metal buckle when he undoes the belt and the buttons of his pants; the zipper slides immediately and his boxers come down. his mouth opens and spit shoots out, dripping thickly, plenty to lube the palm of his hand. he wraps it tightly in a fist around the base of his cock, then he strokes up and down his length up to the sensitive tip, rubbing it with with his thumb in circular motions.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who never shaves— he trims the hairs down and a happy trail in grayish blonde grows, (almost) high enough to reach his lower abdomen and soft abs. he jerks off while you’re asleep; thick ropes of spit cling up sticky on his hand and up and down his cock and the squelching noises fill up the bedroom.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who stares at you, body facing away from him, with your lips parted so slightly, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of panties which he eventually pulls to the side while he jerks off — and a tank top, pink, tight and obscenely see through. your soft nipples peek through pretty and leon takes one between his fingers, pinching and naturally, they harden up and his hand wanders, squeezing one of your tits.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who kisses your shoulder while pressing two sticky wet fingers on the now slick entrance of your pussy, dragging them up and down, almost sinking them inside you. he takes it slow, his index finger buried by itself, followed by the second, curling up towards your sweet little spot. he feels the insides of your pussy stretching around his fingers and the only think he can imagine is how goddamn good it would feel to bury his cock in you instead; but he’ll wake you up and make sure you adjust nicely.

─── older boyfriend .ᐟ LEON KENNEDY who mutters a fuck under his breath when the tip of his cock parts your cunt open; it oozes with whiteish precum. his head tilts back and a hand rests on your inner thigh, spreading you out wide open. he breathes heavily and his mind turns empty when your pussy swallows him whole — by now, you’re already awake, arm around leon’s neck, moaning his name against his lips. you scream of how much you’ve missed the sex and you beg him to fuck you harder, to get the stress out and use your body freely.

“ah- leon! i wanted to… mmm, i really wanted to wait for you…” you moan as leon keeps slamming his cock deep inside pussy, “i was just too… mmm, i was so sleepy!”

he grunts and cooes sweet words in your ear while he fucks you with no condom, greedy walls stretching out around his throbbing cock, “shhh- don’t worry about it, sweetheart — you’re too goddamn perfect. so perfect waitin’ for me like this.”

making out with older boyfriend! leon kennedy inside his car.

hiya thanks for reading, angels ^o^ interactions and reblogs are super super appreciated <3 muah ! also next i’m gonna write about giving him a risky bj lol

[zenin-problem]

DILF death island Leon

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) giving re9 leon a blowjob (inspired by this)

leon was sitting on the couch, polishing one of his well-used handguns. the soft metallic click of the magazine echoed in the living room. his hands were skilled, expertly disassembling and lubricating every piece of equipment. suddenly, he could feel your presence enter the room. a whiff of your perfume began to surround him.

“leon, can I suck your dick?” you asked.

his shoulders stiffened for a split second before a low chuckle vibrated in his chest. he set the unloaded handgun down with a heavy thud and wiped the grase from his palms with a towel. when his gaze finally drifted up to yours, his faded blue eyes were hooded, dancing with a mix of exhaustion and sudden, sharp interest.

“you talk like that to everyone?”  he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he cocked a brow.

you didn’t respond. instead, you sauntered over, stepping between his knees. you leaned down, your hands finding the tension in his shoulders and gently kneading the knots there.

“nope, just you,” you whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

leon’s posture finally relaxes, his spine hitting the back of the couch as he let out a long, ragged exhale. his pulse began to quicken, his chest rising up and down as you sank to your knees between his legs. while your fingers made quick work of his pants, freeing his hard cock, he let out a relieved sigh.

“can’t believe you’re hard after one kiss,” you teased, spreading the precum all over his tip.

before leon could respond, you leaned down to pepper soft kisses against the underside of his shaft. leon’s breath hitched, his head lulling back against the cushions as your tongue traced the prominent vein that pulsed beneath his skin. his rough, calloused hand reached out to tangle his fingers in your hair. he brushed the hair out of your face, pulling it back to a loose, makeshift ponytail.

“yeah, take it like a good girl,” he muttered, watching you slide his cock in your mouth. 

your glassy eyes darted up to meet his. unlike the usual composed agent he was, leon was slowly breaking down before you. a feverish pink dusted his cheekbones, his eyelids flickering as he tried to focus on watching you. the friction from your tongue made it hard to do so.

you moaned against his cock, drool slicking his skin and dripping onto his lap as your hand stroked what your mouth couldn’t take. quickly, the pleasure was becoming too much for him to bear. his hand tightened in your hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to guide your head down and force you to take him deeper.

his hips began to slowly thrust into your mouth, using you like his own personal fleshlight. strained gasps, low grunts, and struggling gags were the only sounds in the room. you could feel him edging closer to his orgasm. his cock was twitching in your mouth, the tip of his cock growing hotter.

tears prickled your eyes from how deep his cock was in your throat, but the sight of him enjoying the pleasure was enough to persevere. your hands reached down to gently cup and squeeze his balls, your throat humming with another vibration.

“fuck…keep doing that. you know I love it when you do that,” he groaned, his voice cracking a little.

with one last thrust, his cum filled up your mouth, leaking from the corners of your lips. you did your best to swallow it all. you didn’t stop these, leaning down to lick the stray drops from his skin.

“you okay?” leon asked softly, brushing your hair down.

“yeah,” you smiled, the taste of him overwhelming your senses. 

“good.” he lifted you up onto his lap, kissing you softly.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

my friend helping me with the plot:

[leonslolita]

I'm running out of intelligible things to say atp my brain is just a horny mess

They KNOW what they're doing

[ficresident]

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FUCK HE'S SO PRETTY

[arquiiva]

how would re9!leon fuck you?

he’s an old man now, so don’t expect him to be coming at you with the same stamina as he used to.

his back will seize painfully, his hips will lock, his breaths will come sharper. his arms strain when he tries to hold himself above you, the veins bulging deliciously. inevitably, he’ll fall down, letting his head just rest in the crook of your neck.

but of course, that’s not to say that he still doesn’t fuck you mean. like he always has. like he always will.

he likes to have one arm wrapped around your back, manually arching you into him. he likes to keep his other arm against the mattress, hand gripping yours painfully, or clenching the pillowcase between his fingers so tight that his knuckles turn white.

and he loves to fuck you rough.

it’s not all that fast—god knows if he went as fast as he used to, his damn hip would pop out of place. so he makes up for his lack of speed with hardness. his hips meet yours in cruel, firm thrusts, rocking your entire body up the bed—your head hitting the headboard so often, you fear a concussion.

and his pace might not be quick, but it’s consistent. for a good bit, he could go just like that—strong hips pushing against yours, tip abusing your fucking cervix, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your spent pussy.

and it doesn’t help that he sounds so pretty too.

most of the time, he grits his teeth, hissing in your ear and letting little chesty grunts loose. he doesn’t feel that those needy moans would work coming from him at his age, but at his core, he’s always been weak for one thing—you. so when you ask him to be loud for you, tell you how good he feels, his lips will instantly part, jaw dropping for you and letting all those guttural noises spill out.

and when your cunt flutters around him, impossibly more turned on by his deep groans, a whimper sounds at the back of his throat. flustered, he’ll bite down on your shoulder—not hard, he’d never want to hurt you, but firm enough that your skin tingles beneath his teeth.

he doesn’t last as long as he did back then. where once he could go for hours, he can’t stave off his peak for longer than a half hour now—and that’s if he really tries. which, he hardly does. why should he, when you seem so eager for his cum anyway?

something that always speeds up the process is praise. with his age, he’s become a little more conscious of himself—his changing body, which you insist is sexier than ever before, but he remains stubborn in thinking he’s not good enough for you. older, tired, scarred up. so when he’s balls-deep, with sweat dripping from his temples and breath catching in his throat? and you’re breathlessly whining, “Making me feel so good, Leon— fuck, so good for me.” and, “You’re gonna make me cum..” ? He’s gone.

but sometimes, praise from you is just that glaze in your eyes—the cockdrunk gasps slipping from your wet lips, unfocused gaze and tremble in your thighs. visible signs that he’s making you feel good. no, better than good. fucking euphoric. and suddenly he’s gasping for air, hand flying down to your hip to grip it tight as his hips falter, filling you with all he’s got.

he also loves when you ride him. he feels a little less secure in this position, his body more visible to you, but once he gets you in his lap, grinding your hips against his, giggling out moans when his hips instinctively buck up into yours—he forgets all that. and he looks so pretty like this, laid back against the pillows, eyes struggling to stay open, brows drawing tight, lips inevitably falling open as he breathes shallowly. one of his hands on your waist, sometimes helping you bounce, others just resting there. the other is either gripping the sheets to ground himself, stave off his orgasm a little longer, or it’s on you—holding your face with visceral devotion, tucking hair that’s sweatily matted to your temple behind your ear. or on one of your tits, groping the soft flesh there desperately. reverently.

some things have to change. sure, he can’t fuck you like he could, can’t last as long as he could, and he’s not as confident anymore. but he finds ways around it.

he finished before you? he’s shuffling down the bed and stuffing his tongue between your legs for an hour minimum, flicking at your clit and thrusting into your cunt until you’re gushing all over his face. and when you think you’re done, numerous orgasms later, he’s rolling onto his back, pulling you with him and slotting you right onto his face—moaning deeply into you at just the position.

his hips aren’t moving fast enough? his hand is creeping between you, fingers working at your clit in rapid, smooth circles. he’d rub you just right, just how you like it, until your cunt clenches around his cock and leaves a white ring sheening it—and he still wouldn’t stop. you’re his girl—he knows you like it that way.

he’d do anything to make sure you stay satisfied. which, you always are anyway, more than. with a man like that, there’s no way you’re leaving his bed without a tremble in your steps and soreness to last you days.

felt like this was long overdue. i miss writing for leon🥹

[nymphmanics-deactivated20260423]

MISS WORLD | leon s. kennedy

synopsis: kennedy never quite grew out of his grimy ways, or a taste in girls his age for that matter.

➜ tags: dub-con, cnc, dumbification, leon’s an old grunge loser and reader’s a sex kitten, one night stands, ball play, age difference, size difference, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (male & fem receiving), creampie.

➜ note: back to my sleazy ways again with leawn this time for (late) valentine’s day :3 feedback & reblogs always appreciated!

The first time you meet him—Leon, to be exact, that blonde bombshell that singlehandedly turned your life around in the worst (best) way possible—it’s not very romantic by ideal standards, or matter-of-fact, moral standards at all.

Okay, technically, you might say you were asking for it. You had the cutest heart-shaped pout outlined with the dull point of your lip liner, and these soft, soft legs that shone like constellations when they sat criss-crossed in satin under the lowlight of the dive bar’s overhead luminescence. Having your throat clamped down on by the canines of some sleazy bastard was a lingering paranoia, it’s terrifying, but a hundred other women have had this same distress and it’s never happened—It might happen to you, or might not, you can’t bet your luck here.

Men are unpredictable creatures, they come in all forms: sweethearts, douchebags, mommy’s boys, rapists, animals, natural-born killers, husbands, cheaters. And women don’t get to be anything else in bumfuck, middle-of-nowhere America, well, except sex kittens and objects of perpetual desire. Sounds about right to you.

An entire charcuterie of oddballs.

He’s just a man, what’s the worst he could pull out of his ass? you try to reassure yourself, eyeballing him and his stupidly done side-part and his shitty guyliner contouring his waterlines, some old, poser, whiskey dick, asshole that preys on sweet and tender girls like you to get a rise on his ego and his dick.

You swirl the amber ambrosia in your glass and try not to bait him further into interaction, not when your looks alone have taken you miles ahead than intended. Total protection blow.

A nudge, then a tap, and then a clearing of a dried throat.

Oh god, everything’s going south now, you don’t know anymore—you have to keep calm. Yeah. That’s it. Provoking a degenerate is the last thing you wanted to do right now. Don’t let him feed from your hand, don’t flash your smiling teeth at him, don’t bat your lashes, don’t inflate his confidence past where it’s already marked. threshold

Slowly and surely, you swivel in your seat and the first thing you meet is not a face, but a pair of tits. Through a skin-tight compression serving as bondage wrapped to his torso and a fur-lined coat, this guy could not get more douchey. Then you break your first set of rules to keep yourself in check and decide on giving him the sort-of one-over that girls do when they want a taste of dick on their tongues at the end of the night.

He’s not… an exactly unsightly piece of work. Your eyes are yet to flit to his face, but making your silent judgements based on those hands and sinewy-fat chest—plus that undeniable dick stuffed somewhere in there—that you may have been too cruel on first impressions. Maybe he wasn’t bad as you were making him out to be, and to be frank, catching some old cock wasn’t the worst thing for miles.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was wondering if you were here alone—“ He does this thing where he shifts his weight onto one fat thigh, his body in a position where all you could sniff out his god-awful, musky cologne, “—sweetheart?”

Christ.

He’s the hottest thing you’ve seen in days.

Had the looks somewhere that lied between somebody’s too-long divorced father and a poster boy to vintage pornstars. His face might as well have been crafted from Michelangelo’s hands himself, a predecessor of David. Eyes a worn-down blue and tell stories that have been long around since your birth—everything about him was older than you, honestly.

“Not for you.” You scoff, straightening your posture up like a total prissy nympho and cross your arms to emphasize on your busted cleavage—it’s just what you do.

By the looks of it, Blondie is quick, nifty as a fox, and takes the view to heart, chuckling tobacco and hopeless virtue while he admires what he’s given. She’s sort-of been your good luck charm; black, provocative, trimmed with lace around the edges. Without her, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure you wouldn’t have the luck of a saint, baiting out a round of drinks, stealing full-on glances through a translucent top, getting your way.

You can tell he’s done this time and time again. Experienced in the field of creeping on girls the same age he entered officer academy—and when was that? Twenty, thirty years ago? He doesn’t tend to look back very often, and it’s obvious when his eyes finish checking you out. You’re twenty-something, two zero, two notches off the legal limit. Ripe for the taking.

He occupies the stool next to you, leaning in by an inch or two, you catch his badge tucked into one of his breast pockets. “That’s okay,” and you’re not sure if Leon Kennedy’s kidding or not, ‘cause getting off the hook cannot possibly be that easy, “you’ll come around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you furrow your brows, about ferocious as a kitten in his eyes.

“However you want it to mean.”

“Okay, but, like, can you sit somewhere else?”

He shakes his head. “Bar’s full, sorry.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, I’m not stupid,” an accusing unfolds itself and shoots at him, “I’ll have you know I’m not like whatever kind of girl you think I am.”

“Quit pointin’ fingers, baby, can’t a guy be friendly anymore?” His tone takes on a faux offense, and for a second, your composure splits down the middle.

“No,” you spit, “I was having a perfectly wonderful night before you came along.”

You think that shuts him up for the meantime, but it’s when the bartender comes around to pass you the check that everything comes crashing down. Finale to your temporary peace. Nobody would’ve guessed an utter lightweight like you was capable of downing that many shots in a single visit. Running a hand through your hair, you’re starting to realize that maybe waving over an angel shot would’ve made your buttery circumstances a lot more easier to slither out of.

“I can’t pay for this,” you blurt out in a state of shock more to yourself than the poor person behind the bar, and you wanted to keep quiet and keep your poise in check and call your daddy so he could run it on his tab, but you’re panicking.

You really should’ve kept it sealed and locked under cover, conserve your business.

“Something wrong?” That shit-eating, good-for-nothing obnoxious grin might not appear on his face, but god, the way it bleeds into a tone of condensation, you wish you still had your half-empty glass to shatter splinters over his idiotic, charming face, make him feel a portion of the irritation he puts int you.

“No, nothing… it’s none of your business.” in an act of defense, you try to slam the receipt down, but his eyes seem to move in milliseconds.

“Well, you’re talking to me about it, so it does kind of make it my business,“ He clicks his tongue and thrums the pads of his fingers across his jacketed forearm, up and over like the nauseating ripples of a manmade sea, “I could help.”

“Oh my god, in the nicest way, sir, the last thing I need right now is to be a burden on someone else.” you blink at him unintentionally sensual, eyeing his tits for a moment, and the fat Hamilton pressing into his wrist—bingo, maybe you should’ve been nicer earlier.

He makes the shameless stare-down mutual and the eye contact you share is palpable to an extreme, “You know,” he sighs, letting up on the sleazebag persona he parades himself upon, “I’m not lying, there is something you could do for me, I help you, you help me.”

You know, he really works up to that whole pornstar image he’s got going on, this is good for you and your unfortunate state of affairs. Dicks and handjobs and bathroom quickies were bearable, but the possibilities of roofies and date-rapes and similar cases were another story. Fucking your way up to the top was the ideal scenario here.

Being kittenish as ever, you give another bat of your lashes, landing on the flip-side of your initial lack of manners, no respect for the elderly, “I’m not interested in solicitation, mister.”

“Leon,” he corrects, and the retired government agent inside of him that’s been left in the dust decades ago shows signs of taking that into account, as if abusing his looks alone and innate allure to get what he wants wasn’t a direct violation against the morals sworn to his authority-ruled heart, “I’m trying to do you a favor here, whatever you think my intentions are, I swear I’m telling the truth.”

You can’t tell if he’s fucking with you. Seriously, you dig toes into the box of your kitten heel, clench your teeth, stare at him with the vacancy of a bloated corpse.

“How do I know I can trust—“ You, yourself, every other limp-dicked, senile prick that’s eyed you from heel to the flying wisps of hair forming a crown around your perfectly patted hair, “How can I trust you? I don’t even know who you are!”

“I am—no, wait—was a man of the law,” on cue, his fingers pluck the badge nestled in his pocket, flashing it like the newest piece of designer, “See? You can trust me, promise.”

“Oh.” You say, stunned, can’t fight or run with the law, that’s for sure.

“Yeah,” Leon squints and offers another smile, prince-charming, pornographic to an extent, “It’s a damn shame you don’t hear me out,” he shrugs and exploits your fragile soul, to have guilt pierce your chest a hundred times over, “You’re a pretty girl, smart… snappy, soft skin, gorgeous eyes—you’re the best thing out here for miles.”

Not only was he a hunky thing, but he’s come well-equipped with a silver tongue and gets under your skin in ease, “Really?”

“Really.” His thigh brushes up against yours, warm and big, and you’re pretty sure the last ribbons of moral direction have been swirled away from its spool.

A feisty and ferocious creature you were, however, your resistances are brought down easily when an enticing, in-fashion blonde for the season is brought to your plate of appetites. Seriously? All that’s done to crumble your self-preservation is—what? The type of scumbag that whispers sweet sentiments to you in his bed while simultaneously leaving you on the side of curbs, the type that prioritizes getting his dick drained over the female orgasm.

“I do like my men in uniforms,” you comment inoffensively and out of the unforeseeable blue, “have I told you that?”

He chuckles. “No you haven’t, not yet, at least.”

“The more you know.”

“Listen, baby, you’re a sweet girl, you’ve got brains and beauty, I know you got more sense in you than these other women,” He waves a hand around the place, where there are, unquestionably, a few girls your age littered here and there, with different motivations and aspirations than to get fucked by some retired, sharpshooter pig, “So, uh, I’ll trust you’re perfectly intact and capable of making your own decisions.”

“I am and I will.” a pretty smile flashes on your face, pink-lipped and bright.

“Right, right,” He knows your catching on, got you hook, line, and sinker, and he crams his badge away for extra precaution—nobody has to know his reasons of business here, or his identity at that, “This getup you’ve got going on is, uh, real cute,” Leon darts his eyes down to your squeezing thighs, and those little heels he’d surely have digging into the firmness of his back in a couple hours or so, “You’ve got a boy you’re tryna impress at home?”

“I wouldn’t if I’m talking to you.”

“That so,” he gives a quick look around the room, no apparent reason given, “I’m gonna head out for a smoke soon, so you better make up your mind, sweetheart—good opportunities don’t last forever.”

Opportunities. Opportunities. Opportunities.

“Fine, uhm, I…” the burden starts weighing in, folding itself in like paper mache, digging into the pink, subcutaneous layers of rosé tissue handling what’s left of the alcohol that’s burned your throat, “I’ll take you up on it. Gotta finish this… and maybe find something to sober up with.”

Satisfaction situates on his perfectly jutted lips, unsettlingly, and you watch on as he walks in full mass through the front door, not before slamming a crumpled grouping of bills in front of you (blood money? Governmental benefits? You don’t know, nor do you care, what matters is he’s the daddy that stepped up for you tonight, thriving off daddy’s money.)

“You’re fuckin’ trouble,” cherry-lit end of his light is the last thing you see prior to his grand exit, “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Together, the synchronization of overhead buzzing cicada fluorescents and some faint odor permeating between the four claustrophobic, graffiti-splattered walls of the bathroom does nothing to soothe the nausea that had finished settling in the bottom of your gut.

(No point in making yourself presentable, he’d be wiping it clean off soon enough.)

If you had any dignity left, if you weren’t so bent on his affluent, deep-pocketed dick, you’d probably turn heels in the opposite direction. Away from this hole in the wall. Away from the dirty thoughts that eat you inside-and-out like litte maggots burrowing in your plentiful flesh. Whatever. Whatever. Your mother raised you right, you got your license at the nick of eighteen, you’re enrolled in a good college, you’ve got friends in sorority, what harm was there in indulging?

You’d forget about him in year or two, really. A one time thing that’d be eternally stamped into your head as the world’s best fuck for years. He’d linger in discarded scraps of your brain that have been tossed aside and grown in with a fully-shaped frontal lobe, when you’re years past your prime, knee-deep in an unfeeling marriage where the only way you’d get off was envisioning his touch, his features ghosted into a bastard ten times worse than he is.

There was nothing better to live in the moment before it goes to waste. Because after all, you’re young, you’re wild, free, and frat boys and IT majors were just out of the equation.

Older, better, rougher. Bible-thumping, pornstar-esque features, worst case scenario of dick that’s too dependent on Viagra.

The thought sends you careening forward and hunched over the sink. While your fingers gripped the stained porcelain, something else is going on up there—where two beady eyes, dramatized by rows of curled, tar-black lashes and scoping landscapes of shimmery blotches melting into the creases of your eyelids, stare back at the girl (woman) you’ve grown to be.

Not enough desperate, boot-licking tramps around these parts, so it’s good you’re filling in and making the part. Without girls such as you in the world, there would be, like, a dangerously tipping shortage. You’re as important as he was! A little thanks for your service would be wonderful, and pleasurably in your case, he’s the hand that gives—

And that’s how Leon finds you; hysterical in the eyes, pressed to the sink, mini-skirt driven up and folded beneath the swell of your ass, fitted for an asylum rather than a night out.

“Jesus, what’s got you going?” He asks, donning his signature smoke, and wondering because it was the polite thing to do for ladies. Leon’s like that, a lady’s man, how else would he have gotten the experience? “That liquor’s getting to you.”

“I’m a big girl,” you promise, pouting and giving him a stare in the reflection, “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

To compromise his kindness, you spare him the standoffish burden and turn to face him. Vulnerability warms the portrait of your back while his greedy eyes—a gaze as calculating and warm as his body—leers at you without a care in the world. Lingers on your smushed thighs, flared hips popping out. You do the same to him, and the bulk of his body is hard to miss. He’s tall, taller than he was when sitting next to you, soaring and blocking out the god-awful light above.

His eyes seem darker too, eclipsed by charcoal waterlines, but that’s not even the best part of him. Moving down, his shoulders are broad, arms swelled through sleeves, and his pudgy abdomen sticks out. Awe. It’s kind of adorable. Denim wasn’t such a bad choice idea, they’re tight at the thighs and don’t shy away from the fingerprints of age, fat and well-rounded. The more you take in, the more suffocating the space was, like you wanted to drown and make your bed in his tracts of plump muscle.

Walking porn set, he brings the atmosphere in the manner of the sun, everywhere he goes. An open awning window brings in the frigid breeze of the city outside, liberating and less oppressive than the stench of man. Taking a strong whiff in, the overwhelming tobacco and pungent, diluted cologne pricks your nostrils in an unwanted assault. He’s as warm as a preserving heater and you can tell by the way it occupies the little space given in the middle.

Steadily, his flat palm rings around and presses against your backbone, tugging you chest-to-chest, tits-to-tits. Then gliding easily across the fabric of your back, it plants itself at the back of your head, fondling the locks, puppy-like and tender.

“What are you doin’ to me, mister?” you whine unintentionally, the contact and the fragrance and everything, weighing down on your poor drunken head.

“I’m just giving you what you’re asking for,” Leon hums, carding each individual strand, putting you in a trance. “poor girl, probably haven’t had a real man to herself in ages.”

“I mean, college boys just aren’t making the cut for me anymore,” you blink, “it’s why I’m here.”

He tilts his head. “Sounds like you’re in need of someone responsible, I could do that for you, baby, I’m a real responsible man,” using this as a means to get his hands on you, his wandering hands trace your sides, cupping the hefty weight of your supple tits till the fat squeezes out of the spaces of his fingers. Screw self-worth, self-respect, whatever bits and bolts of morality made you an upstanding citizen, ‘cause fucking a piece of the government put you above all laws. “you can’t be dressing like this if you ain’t asking for it.”

“Not everything’s for you, asshole,” You scoff and, in return, give into your urges of feeling him—running your own palms over his ridged torso starting down from his abdomen, “I dress for myself.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Huh—it’s the truth!“ you exclaim, “honest to God.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, honey,“ He grumbles, dismissively, groping at each pound of flesh before dragging the front of your blouse down to bear the last futile effort which keeps you modest to his greedy eyes. “You sex kittens have always been the same to me.”

Your first warning should’ve been how his fingers brush against the plate of his belt, not to reach for a couple of handcuffs to turn you in for getting your filthy paws on a man of the law, but to unbutton them. But it takes approximately five seconds to get you down on your knees without a fight, head poking out against the prominent curve of his cock resting obscenely and heavy on the canvas of your painted face.

He stumbles back to lean on the grimy tiles that’ve most likely been subjected to a hundred other bathroom fucks prior to you prancing along. Lamb to slaughter. You’re not as different as you thought you were, fawn-ish eyes squinting while you kiss along his tip and take on the rest, he’s big, but in a way that virgins approach their first blowjob. You’ve seen plenty, just not one from an older type, surprisingly.

White webs of pre paint you a new lip combo across your lip’s downward arch, and his scent down here is so unbelievably strong. Soapy and suffocating, but the aroma of sweat prospers, and the lurking scent of what made Leon so unique. The smell of his exertion, the smell of his day’s old clothes, the smell of his sheets after long shifts.

“Christ,” Leon groans, gripping the top of your head, “I didn’t know you liked me this much, you fuckin’ nympho.”

“The more you know.” you mutter cheekily around a morsel of fat cock, staying consistent with your head bobbing forwards and backs rhythmically, and you should be humiliated by getting your thong soaked from a little bit of cock-sucking. Things happen.

“Not surprised, baby.” He lets out this condescending chuckle when his thrusted hips catch you by surprise, emitting a muffled gasp, but you’re too bent on taking his cock deep down your throat to scold him as always—so you let him do whatever he wants to you, like those unsuspecting girls who came before. Doesn’t take long for the blunt head to nudge against the back of your throat, you’re starting to get somewhere with him, gagging as you struggle to accommodate his size, mascara staining your cheeks porno-style in shades of gray and deep black. You nuzzle your chin against his hefty balls, giving them a brief lick up the seam, and it’s his turn to gasp. “Easy, girl, fuck you learn to do that?” One of his eyebrows quirk up in amusement, his libido on a rise.

Parting away from him seems to do the trick of catching your breath. Damp and utterly fucked-out, your doll face peers up at him between cum-stained lashes. He’s convinced himself you look ten times hotter this way. Especially when you’re back to going down, leaking tip pressed against your forehead while you make a mess out of his balls this time. Sweetly, you press a kiss to his perineum and soak up what you can—nosing your way into his balls and popping each one on your tongue.

In an unpredictable rotation, you alternate between licking up his balls and going straight to lapping over the veins of his fat cock, it’s a win-win situation. “Reckon you’re enjoying yourself a little too much, sweetheart.”

“Mhm.” It’s a faraway response, strung up in the reveries of indulging yourself in a way you’ve never done before as you lather your tongue over his crotch like the stupidest puppy, you prefer to make your men feel it, and climbing up (correction: fucking) into the ranks got you a gaggle of girl friends and boys on a leash for your expertise.

“C’mon up, I can’t be letting myself have all the fun here.” Leon tsks thoughtfully, grabbing you by the hair in a mindful tug and pulling you off his dick, connected by a bridge of stringy spit and bubbling arousal slicking your pretty mouth. As a kitten, you take one of his boot-clad feet between your thighs, sitting docile and nuzzling against his wet cock like the sweetest stray. He’s taken you in for the night, and if luck plays its cards here, you’ll become a permanent resident; scratching up furniture, wearing his shirts, becoming the controversial talk of family dinners.

“Bend over the sink for me, baby, feet apart like that—ooh, careful there,” Easing off quivering legs with a bit of stumble in your step, skirt hiked up till it transcends being a miniskirt, he shuffled behind you—you live up to the feline title, back purposely bent inwards to invoke a sensation of erotica, and you still think you’re taking this whole thing a notch too far, that your family’s good name was going to be polluted and you’ve done their reputation a good deal of harm, but you’re wetter than ever and he’s got his cock on your lower back and there’s no turning back even if you wanted to.

He grabs your jaw and hauls your ruined face over the slope of your shoulder, at last forcing his lips—naturally plump, and scruffy with his blonde-gray stubble—onto yours, tasting the concoction of cum, cherry gloss, and alcohol that bleeds filth into the kiss.

“I don’t think we should be doin’ this, mister,” you slur lowly, giving him those fuck me eyes that contradicts what comes out of your throat.

“What do you mean?” He asks, giving you a long blink with pale blue eyes, shining as the finest crystals.

Hypnotizing at its finest.

“I mean, I dunno… we’re both pretty wasted, feels wrong,” your back subconsciously arches into a graceful, slinky curve, ass backing up at his crotch as if he’s got a hex over you.

“You’re telling me otherwise over here, baby,” He chuckles almost mockingly and suddenly you regret every saying anything—like, yeah, you thought this was totally wrong in everything single handbook, but he’s a hunk. You couldn’t get knockouts like him anywhere else. A hunk who cups your mound through the soaked fabric of your thong, makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“Leon, I’m serious.” you pout.

“And I’m not? I thought girls like you were cut out for shit like this,” he tells you with a stifled grunt, his foot taps the side of yours and you stand on your thighs, pussy clenching around the wide, empty air while his disgustingly hung cock nestled in the perfect heart-shaped space of your perked ass.

“I’m not a fucking slut!” you try to tell him, ironically, and there’s this gaze you throw over your shoulder that crosses a wasteland of complete, desolate desperation to escape and take more, “It’s one thing if I suck your cock, but it’s another if I actually let you do this.”

“Don’t be like that, I only want what’s best,” in a swift motion, he takes both of your wrists and binds them in his fist, putting that retired authority to use and forming these makeshift handcuffs which ripples a wave of nausea at the pit of your stomach. “deep breaths here, sweetheart, this doesn’t have to be any harder than it needs to be, I’m just… satisfying our needs.”

And as violating as this could get, he curls forward and blankets your body, getting to where intimacy lives and dies on your lips—forcing a kiss of gnashing teeth and wet tongues that comes off as more penetrative, more profane than the repetitive act of your shut-tight thighs, subconsciously-moving hips accommodating a measured back-and-forth gliding motion of his cock sandwiched between your slick, puffy folds begging for the attention you never really wanted in the first place.

“You’re hurting me.” you whine, not knowing if to struggle more or feed into your deepest depravity.

“You like it.” he says, more of a fact than a refute, lining up his cock with your cunt, dragging the engorged, leaking head top to bottom just for the pleasure of your squirming.

“I don’t, though.”

“Should’ve said something earlier when you were sucking my dick.” Leon responds before pushing himself in with surprisingly little struggle, you’re so wet but that’s not even much of a shock, it happens when you’re a girl living off her exploited sexuality and capture unwanted prey in the seize of your canines.

“Fuck!” Your nail-beds turn pale as your fingers grip the sink’s porcelain firmly, legs quivering as the intrusion is quick and settles into barbs of pleasure, and he’s so, so mean. “I can’t, Leon, please—“

“You’re being ridiculous, see? pussy’s taking me with no problem.” He has to compose the upmost dominance by holding his breaths in, huffing deeply and enveloping your clammy waist in equally clammy palms, angling his hips so his pleasantly large cock stretches you out to the hilt, fat head kissing your cervix.

The mirror you’re pressed to lets Leon watch your unhinged jaw and blossoming cheeks of crimson, drool gathering at your tongue. Your bra is barely keeping you modest anymore, nipples diamond-hard while the air sweeps over, indents of his fingers pressed onto your tits.

Taking a splayed hand and moving it down the plain of your curved torso, there’s an upmost affection where he presses down on the cradle of your navel, crawling fingers reaching the hill of your pubic bone. Each time his cock unsheathes, blunt head popping out against your clit and then back into your hole, there’s a distant feel, and it’s a reverberating reminder what he does to you—molding you into something fuckable. Something for Leon and only Leon, and that does the trick to kick his hips into overdrive.

He’s notched in so deep you can feel him in every crevice, tight walls hugging down, pussy rippling with every movement he makes, liberation is pointless here and you’ve learned that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here tonight. Half of it wasn’t even your fault. He’s the one preying on malleable college girls, successful college girls at that. Your kind will never fail to entertain him.

When you stumble back and stand hunched against his torso, he takes the upper hand for this newfound position. His hand, in turns, grope your swelling breasts and he has to plant two feet dead on the ground to really pound into you. Drooling and basically catatonic, your eyes flicker to the bulb above in a roll, left to grip the sink in hopelessness while he internally batters your pussy—leaving it gaped and aching for the unforeseen morning where his Porsche and a trip to the drugstore would be ideal.

His face buries in your neck and moves up in a route of tingly kisses that pierce your feverish flesh. You spew the cutest little ah, ah, ah’s in a looping chorus, whining in his lap, perspiring fingertips causing you to slip and lose leverage on the sink. He’s there, though, he’s always there. You can’t get enough of him, Kennedy fills your pussy, imprints on your tummy, halts your senses and bewitches you with his cologne. Bottoms out, squelching and grunting at the hug of your pussy, balls smacking against your ass deliciously, the way you’re whining a little too much for someone who wasn’t supposed to enjoy this.

Your smeared makeup and strewn hair makes you look far from how he first saw you. But he’s not that much different, his own black waterlines reduced to mild, black-gray streaks. It’s sexy. It’s disgusting. At first, he held you up to a podium of angelic, docile, innocent and baring her teeth in defense as a faux predator—now he’s not that sure what exactly to make of you. You’re something. Yeah. He’ll settle with what; a bold, enticing, wanting, little something.

“Jesus, baby, you’re tighter than a fucking nun,” Leon brings his hand down again to spread your sticky folds apart, getting to where he is the most, massaging the nub of your overwhelmed clit. “Fat around here too, what’cha been feeding her?”

Without much coherent thinking on his end, he’s fisting your hair in a bunch and tugs you up and back, face tilted till you saw his crow’s feet, and his stubble, and the perfectly-timed droplet of sweat dribbling down the slope of his stupidly angular nose, and everything that made him sexy, unforgettable. Making note of your agape lips, he uses his position of power and spits love into your tongue just because he feels like it. You’re taken aback for a moment, but given your state of vulnerability, you swallow it down.

Shaking his head, he can’t help but allow a subtle chuckle to slip by—you’re a compliant, fascinating creature. Sweet, is what he’d call you. You think there’s a correct way to do things here, some certain manner to beg and act and behave when you’re told to. Leon’s response to that is returning, hot cheek pressed to yours while two feverish faces melt into one gigantic heap of mounting pleasure that sees no end anytime soon.

His cock jackhammers in and out of your wet cunt, pitchy squeals and whines dethroning the muffled music outside, ass red and raw from his discarded denim chafing your backside. The reality of his deeds are quick to dawn on you when he presses the rough pad of his thumb to your swollen clit, drawing messy circles into the soft bud as he pounds you merciless, pussy clicking with every thrust. It’s embarrassingly loud on the ears.

“Leon, Leon… wait!” For the faintest of seconds, consciousness comes back to you, a split second too late to catch yourself as his relentless pace sends you hurling over the edge, tentativeness to being fucked inside-and-out thrown out the window when he makes you feel so fucking good, when your cunt tightens in a death-grip and you’re gushing in his lap like the slut he figured you out as.

“Shit, sweetheart, bet those campus boys couldn’t make you do that.” His rough, work-torn hands cup the span of your jaw, years of handling handgun magazines and using your fists does that, you suppose, though contrastingly gentler than its counterpart still working your overstimulated clit and making you sob out-loud pathetically. “There you go, good girl, see, I’m not that bad, giving you everything you want.”

“Are you done now?” You sniffle, resting your head weakly in the mantle of his palm.

“Almost, little lady, a guy’s gotta have his fill too.” His voice, in spite of its cockiness, strains while his thrusts get sloppier by the minute, his eyes fluttering as he pounds your cunt into an oblivion of unfeeling.

You can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore. Fading in and out of your general consciousness. Like, yeah, his dick was all kinds of mind-blowing, you couldn’t fake that till you made it, but it’s more of his oozing strength he isn’t afraid to make a display of. You’re over here pulling a pornstar-worthy reaction for him—feeding his extraordinary conceit, tainting your reputation, making an indecent display out of the good girl your parents put time and money into shaping.

Defeated, your head flops back lacking strength, half-lidded eyes staring drunkly and making an observation of his current state. Leon’s eyebrows—threaded and laminated, since where else would that fortune of his go?—furrow and his eyelids shine boyish, he opens his mouth to eject another dastardly remark, and then your pussy gives a particularly tight squeeze worthy of emptying his balls and his coherent train of thought.

He’s an evil, foul, bastard of a man, but god, does he look beautiful when he cums. Wrinkles enhanced with sweat, stubble-lined jaw clenched, plump lips split apart, blonde wisps sticking to his forehead. His orgasm is explosive too—throbbing cock curving upwards into your cervix, the plap of his balls hitting your ass, the warm flood that fills your heart, and your pussy in waves of sticky white.

For the faintest of moments, you’re granted a brief respite and tranquility buzzes in the air. Leon pulls out with an ear-splitting pop, cock resting heavy in his hand. What confuses you the most is the lack of a belt being unbuckled and the shuffle of denim being tugged back up his waist. Just as you’re about to question him through a weak voice, he abruptly flips you around in position, stationing your ass on the edge of the sink with your legs obscenely spread.

“What—what the fuck are you doing?” you mumble, hissing at the cold air hitting your cunt.

He hums thoughtfully and ends up kneeling between your thighs in prayer, hands running up and down your soft thighs. “Think of this as an apology, baby—I’ll admit, I’ve been an asshole to you tonight.”

“I think your money already covered that part.”

“Money comes and goes, you never know if you’ll see me again.”

You hold a hand over your mouth, teething the space given to your pointer and thumb, helplessly watching between your legs as you give him easy access. Leon stares back, pupils blown, one of the many telltale signs he’s lost it. You must’ve too, hand leaving its cupped hold and reaching down to spread your labia that’s so wet your fingers slip in the process.

Immediately, Leon revels in your hospitality, running his tongue along your folds, weeding out your desperation with a sloppy kiss to your clit for good measure. His hands are an immovable force keeping your legs spread apart, your fingers weaving across a plentiful blonde sea, legs hooked around spanning shoulders, jabbing your kitten heels into his upper back muscles to prevent escape.

He laps at your pussy like a starved man. His tongue gets inside effortlessly, the bridge of his nose bumping your clit for double stimulation. In a way, this was vengeance for what he did. How he totally wrecked you on the inside, zero repercussions. You’re feeling particularly smug so you tug on his hair to wrench him deeper into your pussy. Revenge porn, is what you thought this ordeal realistically was. You’re getting your pussy eaten, he’s got his dick sucked, it’s a win-win situation (forced penetration aside).

Leon, Leon, Leon.

Your poor, still-sensitive pussy, she’s been subjected to a lot tonight. After this was all done, the calm after the storm, he could at least put a ring on you or have the chivalry to drive you down to a drugstore or—god, who were you kidding? You know men like Leon, you’ve fucked them, you fucked him. The most he’s capable of is a pat on the back and a tissue cleaning up half the mess you made together.

It’s not much of a struggle to reel you back to him, bringing you down to Earth when those deep-rooted thoughts started eating away at you. He tilts his head more forward and exceeds the boundaries of ecstasy acting as a stupefying narcotic to your dazed mind. Fucks you loose on his tongue—giving turns to his tongue licking long, wide stripes up your cunt and capturing your clit with military precision, makes your toes curl.

Just like the last time, the knot in your gut starts to build, pressing in and making your hips squirm in place. “M’gonna cum again—“ a shaky gasp, thighs clenching and trapping his head in, “I can’t, Leon, you’re gonna kill me—“ you cut out as his ministrations strengthen, more meticulous, more flexible and drinking in the taste of you and him.

“Relax, baby, I’ve got you.” He strokes your glistening inner thigh in comfort, expelling his tongue deeper, plunging like machinery. Angel dust sprinkles in the swallowing black of your vision, and a sensation of rapture gets underneath delicate skin, stimulating your nerves head to toe.

A couple more broad licks does it for you. Big finale. The last thing your bleary eyes see are slick-covered cheeks and gray hairs stemming along the hairline of his shitty coiffure he should’ve grown out years ago—then you cave in, bursting on impact. You’re torn apart at the seams by the time he’s done with you, hips lazily grinding against his nose and riding out the last of your peak.

He thinks you’re hopelessly adorable, how far you’ve come in one single night. His head retreats, but a hand stays in place to cup your mound, stroking the plain field of razor bumps and your plush pussy lips. The kind of pussy he’d expect to find on a girl waiting to be fucked. Leon’s pretty knowledgeable about that, he’s been in this business for… god knows how long. Long enough to tell himself she did this for me, that’s for sure.

The deafening hush of the aftermath kind of made you wish you had drunk yourself hammered to death. He hauls the denim back up his hips, slinking his belt through the loops and clicking the buckle back into place. You stand on wobbly legs while tugging your thong up, muttering to yourself and patting your miniskirt down modestly. Doesn’t do much to prevent his lingering eyes. Besides, he’s seen a majority of you, if not all of you.

“You’re horrible,” you spit at him with the decency of a proper lady, shaken-up and hesitant albeit still so feisty, “you’re a terrible man, a pervert, a degenerate.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Leon questions with an amused chuckle, watching your flushed face in the mirror. An admiration of his work.

“I don’t need to—I know it.” you argue, reaching for the paper towel dispenser to the side and crumpling up bunches of brown tissue to dab across your thighs where his dried cum sticks.

He grabs your wrist before you get most of it off, tender-handed and solemn, taking hold of the tissue and wiping you down thoroughly that something about him seems more fatherly than anything. “I already said sorry, baby… I, uh, can’t be leaving you here like this anyway, you’re a nice girl.”

You look at him. He doesn’t have an irritatingly conceited look painted on his face anymore. Nothing but a monotonous, paternal mask there because, like you, he must’ve quickly been brought back to reality. Fucking a college girl on the low was not going to look good on his record at all, and worse if you had decided to march down to the station and cry rapist.

When you don’t speak, he clears his throat and musters enough courage to stare at you, blue-eyed and fond. “I hope we didn’t get off on the wrong foot, I mean besides that part, we could always meet up again and start over—not like that, but for… y’know.” he stumbles across each syllable, as if he didn’t get it on with you at the back of a dive bar after flashing his status of authority right in your face.

“I’m not much of a hook-up kinda girl, if that’s what you’re trying to say,” you take the time to really stare back at him, like gawking through the glass of an exhibit, residue of your lipgloss staining his jaw, the bruises left on your thighs, his cum drying on the thin gusset of your panties. “but I guess I’ll let you know if I’m around,” you say, only because you’re now recognizing whatever you’ve got going on with him was purely transactional, he couldn’t be seen half his age. That was unacceptable. However, he lives for the scandal so maybe he’ll somehow make this more casual and bring you over and fuck you through the floor of his Porsche.

“Fine by me,” He nods, lips spasming into a half-assed grin. “I’ll bring you somewhere nicer next time, promise.”

And with a last few dabs to your pussy and a kiss to your head, he’s gone just like that. A shadow vanishing from the luminous glow of the bathroom’s flickering bulb and the outdoor lampposts lining the concrete steps. You're ultimately left to your own devices, crossing the restroom's threshold in a sore limp and a parting gift left in the padded cup of your bra, a single inscribed Marlboro Red reading—

You're something dangerous, baby. I think we could make this right sometime, call me?

A fatigued scowl fixes on your face and you chew the kiss-swollen tissue of your ruined lip. He's done it this time. Bad to the bone and sick as a mutt, he probably hasn't gotten his dick drained this good in months, to be realistic. It almost makes you feel bad. An old dog like him could have anyone he wanted, but he insists on having a turn at you specifically. Young, cat-eyed, satin and feline. Those two things don't intermingle well and tend to clash in loose ends, a heated predicament yet to be settled.

You already knew this was wrong. Beyond it, actually. That was the most exciting aspect. On your way out, the light is safely tucked in its warm enclosure against your nipple for later.

Palmed, saved, waiting on his line to be picked up.

[nymphmanics-deactivated20260423]

MISS WORLD | leon s. kennedy

synopsis: kennedy never quite grew out of his grimy ways, or a taste in girls his age for that matter.

➜ tags: dub-con, cnc, dumbification, leon’s an old grunge loser and reader’s a sex kitten, one night stands, ball play, age difference, size difference, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (male & fem receiving), creampie.

➜ note: back to my sleazy ways again with leawn this time for (late) valentine’s day :3 feedback & reblogs always appreciated!

The first time you meet him—Leon, to be exact, that blonde bombshell that singlehandedly turned your life around in the worst (best) way possible—it’s not very romantic by ideal standards, or matter-of-fact, moral standards at all.

Okay, technically, you might say you were asking for it. You had the cutest heart-shaped pout outlined with the dull point of your lip liner, and these soft, soft legs that shone like constellations when they sat criss-crossed in satin under the lowlight of the dive bar’s overhead luminescence. Having your throat clamped down on by the canines of some sleazy bastard was a lingering paranoia, it’s terrifying, but a hundred other women have had this same distress and it’s never happened—It might happen to you, or might not, you can’t bet your luck here.

Men are unpredictable creatures, they come in all forms: sweethearts, douchebags, mommy’s boys, rapists, animals, natural-born killers, husbands, cheaters. And women don’t get to be anything else in bumfuck, middle-of-nowhere America, well, except sex kittens and objects of perpetual desire. Sounds about right to you.

An entire charcuterie of oddballs.

He’s just a man, what’s the worst he could pull out of his ass? you try to reassure yourself, eyeballing him and his stupidly done side-part and his shitty guyliner contouring his waterlines, some old, poser, whiskey dick, asshole that preys on sweet and tender girls like you to get a rise on his ego and his dick.

You swirl the amber ambrosia in your glass and try not to bait him further into interaction, not when your looks alone have taken you miles ahead than intended. Total protection blow.

A nudge, then a tap, and then a clearing of a dried throat.

Oh god, everything’s going south now, you don’t know anymore—you have to keep calm. Yeah. That’s it. Provoking a degenerate is the last thing you wanted to do right now. Don’t let him feed from your hand, don’t flash your smiling teeth at him, don’t bat your lashes, don’t inflate his confidence past where it’s already marked. threshold

Slowly and surely, you swivel in your seat and the first thing you meet is not a face, but a pair of tits. Through a skin-tight compression serving as bondage wrapped to his torso and a fur-lined coat, this guy could not get more douchey. Then you break your first set of rules to keep yourself in check and decide on giving him the sort-of one-over that girls do when they want a taste of dick on their tongues at the end of the night.

He’s not… an exactly unsightly piece of work. Your eyes are yet to flit to his face, but making your silent judgements based on those hands and sinewy-fat chest—plus that undeniable dick stuffed somewhere in there—that you may have been too cruel on first impressions. Maybe he wasn’t bad as you were making him out to be, and to be frank, catching some old cock wasn’t the worst thing for miles.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was wondering if you were here alone—“ He does this thing where he shifts his weight onto one fat thigh, his body in a position where all you could sniff out his god-awful, musky cologne, “—sweetheart?”

Christ.

He’s the hottest thing you’ve seen in days.

Had the looks somewhere that lied between somebody’s too-long divorced father and a poster boy to vintage pornstars. His face might as well have been crafted from Michelangelo’s hands himself, a predecessor of David. Eyes a worn-down blue and tell stories that have been long around since your birth—everything about him was older than you, honestly.

“Not for you.” You scoff, straightening your posture up like a total prissy nympho and cross your arms to emphasize on your busted cleavage—it’s just what you do.

By the looks of it, Blondie is quick, nifty as a fox, and takes the view to heart, chuckling tobacco and hopeless virtue while he admires what he’s given. She’s sort-of been your good luck charm; black, provocative, trimmed with lace around the edges. Without her, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure you wouldn’t have the luck of a saint, baiting out a round of drinks, stealing full-on glances through a translucent top, getting your way.

You can tell he’s done this time and time again. Experienced in the field of creeping on girls the same age he entered officer academy—and when was that? Twenty, thirty years ago? He doesn’t tend to look back very often, and it’s obvious when his eyes finish checking you out. You’re twenty-something, two zero, two notches off the legal limit. Ripe for the taking.

He occupies the stool next to you, leaning in by an inch or two, you catch his badge tucked into one of his breast pockets. “That’s okay,” and you’re not sure if Leon Kennedy’s kidding or not, ‘cause getting off the hook cannot possibly be that easy, “you’ll come around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you furrow your brows, about ferocious as a kitten in his eyes.

“However you want it to mean.”

“Okay, but, like, can you sit somewhere else?”

He shakes his head. “Bar’s full, sorry.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, I’m not stupid,” an accusing unfolds itself and shoots at him, “I’ll have you know I’m not like whatever kind of girl you think I am.”

“Quit pointin’ fingers, baby, can’t a guy be friendly anymore?” His tone takes on a faux offense, and for a second, your composure splits down the middle.

“No,” you spit, “I was having a perfectly wonderful night before you came along.”

You think that shuts him up for the meantime, but it’s when the bartender comes around to pass you the check that everything comes crashing down. Finale to your temporary peace. Nobody would’ve guessed an utter lightweight like you was capable of downing that many shots in a single visit. Running a hand through your hair, you’re starting to realize that maybe waving over an angel shot would’ve made your buttery circumstances a lot more easier to slither out of.

“I can’t pay for this,” you blurt out in a state of shock more to yourself than the poor person behind the bar, and you wanted to keep quiet and keep your poise in check and call your daddy so he could run it on his tab, but you’re panicking.

You really should’ve kept it sealed and locked under cover, conserve your business.

“Something wrong?” That shit-eating, good-for-nothing obnoxious grin might not appear on his face, but god, the way it bleeds into a tone of condensation, you wish you still had your half-empty glass to shatter splinters over his idiotic, charming face, make him feel a portion of the irritation he puts int you.

“No, nothing… it’s none of your business.” in an act of defense, you try to slam the receipt down, but his eyes seem to move in milliseconds.

“Well, you’re talking to me about it, so it does kind of make it my business,“ He clicks his tongue and thrums the pads of his fingers across his jacketed forearm, up and over like the nauseating ripples of a manmade sea, “I could help.”

“Oh my god, in the nicest way, sir, the last thing I need right now is to be a burden on someone else.” you blink at him unintentionally sensual, eyeing his tits for a moment, and the fat Hamilton pressing into his wrist—bingo, maybe you should’ve been nicer earlier.

He makes the shameless stare-down mutual and the eye contact you share is palpable to an extreme, “You know,” he sighs, letting up on the sleazebag persona he parades himself upon, “I’m not lying, there is something you could do for me, I help you, you help me.”

You know, he really works up to that whole pornstar image he’s got going on, this is good for you and your unfortunate state of affairs. Dicks and handjobs and bathroom quickies were bearable, but the possibilities of roofies and date-rapes and similar cases were another story. Fucking your way up to the top was the ideal scenario here.

Being kittenish as ever, you give another bat of your lashes, landing on the flip-side of your initial lack of manners, no respect for the elderly, “I’m not interested in solicitation, mister.”

“Leon,” he corrects, and the retired government agent inside of him that’s been left in the dust decades ago shows signs of taking that into account, as if abusing his looks alone and innate allure to get what he wants wasn’t a direct violation against the morals sworn to his authority-ruled heart, “I’m trying to do you a favor here, whatever you think my intentions are, I swear I’m telling the truth.”

You can’t tell if he’s fucking with you. Seriously, you dig toes into the box of your kitten heel, clench your teeth, stare at him with the vacancy of a bloated corpse.

“How do I know I can trust—“ You, yourself, every other limp-dicked, senile prick that’s eyed you from heel to the flying wisps of hair forming a crown around your perfectly patted hair, “How can I trust you? I don’t even know who you are!”

“I am—no, wait—was a man of the law,” on cue, his fingers pluck the badge nestled in his pocket, flashing it like the newest piece of designer, “See? You can trust me, promise.”

“Oh.” You say, stunned, can’t fight or run with the law, that’s for sure.

“Yeah,” Leon squints and offers another smile, prince-charming, pornographic to an extent, “It’s a damn shame you don’t hear me out,” he shrugs and exploits your fragile soul, to have guilt pierce your chest a hundred times over, “You’re a pretty girl, smart… snappy, soft skin, gorgeous eyes—you’re the best thing out here for miles.”

Not only was he a hunky thing, but he’s come well-equipped with a silver tongue and gets under your skin in ease, “Really?”

“Really.” His thigh brushes up against yours, warm and big, and you’re pretty sure the last ribbons of moral direction have been swirled away from its spool.

A feisty and ferocious creature you were, however, your resistances are brought down easily when an enticing, in-fashion blonde for the season is brought to your plate of appetites. Seriously? All that’s done to crumble your self-preservation is—what? The type of scumbag that whispers sweet sentiments to you in his bed while simultaneously leaving you on the side of curbs, the type that prioritizes getting his dick drained over the female orgasm.

“I do like my men in uniforms,” you comment inoffensively and out of the unforeseeable blue, “have I told you that?”

He chuckles. “No you haven’t, not yet, at least.”

“The more you know.”

“Listen, baby, you’re a sweet girl, you’ve got brains and beauty, I know you got more sense in you than these other women,” He waves a hand around the place, where there are, unquestionably, a few girls your age littered here and there, with different motivations and aspirations than to get fucked by some retired, sharpshooter pig, “So, uh, I’ll trust you’re perfectly intact and capable of making your own decisions.”

“I am and I will.” a pretty smile flashes on your face, pink-lipped and bright.

“Right, right,” He knows your catching on, got you hook, line, and sinker, and he crams his badge away for extra precaution—nobody has to know his reasons of business here, or his identity at that, “This getup you’ve got going on is, uh, real cute,” Leon darts his eyes down to your squeezing thighs, and those little heels he’d surely have digging into the firmness of his back in a couple hours or so, “You’ve got a boy you’re tryna impress at home?”

“I wouldn’t if I’m talking to you.”

“That so,” he gives a quick look around the room, no apparent reason given, “I’m gonna head out for a smoke soon, so you better make up your mind, sweetheart—good opportunities don’t last forever.”

Opportunities. Opportunities. Opportunities.

“Fine, uhm, I…” the burden starts weighing in, folding itself in like paper mache, digging into the pink, subcutaneous layers of rosé tissue handling what’s left of the alcohol that’s burned your throat, “I’ll take you up on it. Gotta finish this… and maybe find something to sober up with.”

Satisfaction situates on his perfectly jutted lips, unsettlingly, and you watch on as he walks in full mass through the front door, not before slamming a crumpled grouping of bills in front of you (blood money? Governmental benefits? You don’t know, nor do you care, what matters is he’s the daddy that stepped up for you tonight, thriving off daddy’s money.)

“You’re fuckin’ trouble,” cherry-lit end of his light is the last thing you see prior to his grand exit, “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Together, the synchronization of overhead buzzing cicada fluorescents and some faint odor permeating between the four claustrophobic, graffiti-splattered walls of the bathroom does nothing to soothe the nausea that had finished settling in the bottom of your gut.

(No point in making yourself presentable, he’d be wiping it clean off soon enough.)

If you had any dignity left, if you weren’t so bent on his affluent, deep-pocketed dick, you’d probably turn heels in the opposite direction. Away from this hole in the wall. Away from the dirty thoughts that eat you inside-and-out like litte maggots burrowing in your plentiful flesh. Whatever. Whatever. Your mother raised you right, you got your license at the nick of eighteen, you’re enrolled in a good college, you’ve got friends in sorority, what harm was there in indulging?

You’d forget about him in year or two, really. A one time thing that’d be eternally stamped into your head as the world’s best fuck for years. He’d linger in discarded scraps of your brain that have been tossed aside and grown in with a fully-shaped frontal lobe, when you’re years past your prime, knee-deep in an unfeeling marriage where the only way you’d get off was envisioning his touch, his features ghosted into a bastard ten times worse than he is.

There was nothing better to live in the moment before it goes to waste. Because after all, you’re young, you’re wild, free, and frat boys and IT majors were just out of the equation.

Older, better, rougher. Bible-thumping, pornstar-esque features, worst case scenario of dick that’s too dependent on Viagra.

The thought sends you careening forward and hunched over the sink. While your fingers gripped the stained porcelain, something else is going on up there—where two beady eyes, dramatized by rows of curled, tar-black lashes and scoping landscapes of shimmery blotches melting into the creases of your eyelids, stare back at the girl (woman) you’ve grown to be.

Not enough desperate, boot-licking tramps around these parts, so it’s good you’re filling in and making the part. Without girls such as you in the world, there would be, like, a dangerously tipping shortage. You’re as important as he was! A little thanks for your service would be wonderful, and pleasurably in your case, he’s the hand that gives—

And that’s how Leon finds you; hysterical in the eyes, pressed to the sink, mini-skirt driven up and folded beneath the swell of your ass, fitted for an asylum rather than a night out.

“Jesus, what’s got you going?” He asks, donning his signature smoke, and wondering because it was the polite thing to do for ladies. Leon’s like that, a lady’s man, how else would he have gotten the experience? “That liquor’s getting to you.”

“I’m a big girl,” you promise, pouting and giving him a stare in the reflection, “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

To compromise his kindness, you spare him the standoffish burden and turn to face him. Vulnerability warms the portrait of your back while his greedy eyes—a gaze as calculating and warm as his body—leers at you without a care in the world. Lingers on your smushed thighs, flared hips popping out. You do the same to him, and the bulk of his body is hard to miss. He’s tall, taller than he was when sitting next to you, soaring and blocking out the god-awful light above.

His eyes seem darker too, eclipsed by charcoal waterlines, but that’s not even the best part of him. Moving down, his shoulders are broad, arms swelled through sleeves, and his pudgy abdomen sticks out. Awe. It’s kind of adorable. Denim wasn’t such a bad choice idea, they’re tight at the thighs and don’t shy away from the fingerprints of age, fat and well-rounded. The more you take in, the more suffocating the space was, like you wanted to drown and make your bed in his tracts of plump muscle.

Walking porn set, he brings the atmosphere in the manner of the sun, everywhere he goes. An open awning window brings in the frigid breeze of the city outside, liberating and less oppressive than the stench of man. Taking a strong whiff in, the overwhelming tobacco and pungent, diluted cologne pricks your nostrils in an unwanted assault. He’s as warm as a preserving heater and you can tell by the way it occupies the little space given in the middle.

Steadily, his flat palm rings around and presses against your backbone, tugging you chest-to-chest, tits-to-tits. Then gliding easily across the fabric of your back, it plants itself at the back of your head, fondling the locks, puppy-like and tender.

“What are you doin’ to me, mister?” you whine unintentionally, the contact and the fragrance and everything, weighing down on your poor drunken head.

“I’m just giving you what you’re asking for,” Leon hums, carding each individual strand, putting you in a trance. “poor girl, probably haven’t had a real man to herself in ages.”

“I mean, college boys just aren’t making the cut for me anymore,” you blink, “it’s why I’m here.”

He tilts his head. “Sounds like you’re in need of someone responsible, I could do that for you, baby, I’m a real responsible man,” using this as a means to get his hands on you, his wandering hands trace your sides, cupping the hefty weight of your supple tits till the fat squeezes out of the spaces of his fingers. Screw self-worth, self-respect, whatever bits and bolts of morality made you an upstanding citizen, ‘cause fucking a piece of the government put you above all laws. “you can’t be dressing like this if you ain’t asking for it.”

“Not everything’s for you, asshole,” You scoff and, in return, give into your urges of feeling him—running your own palms over his ridged torso starting down from his abdomen, “I dress for myself.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Huh—it’s the truth!“ you exclaim, “honest to God.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, honey,“ He grumbles, dismissively, groping at each pound of flesh before dragging the front of your blouse down to bear the last futile effort which keeps you modest to his greedy eyes. “You sex kittens have always been the same to me.”

Your first warning should’ve been how his fingers brush against the plate of his belt, not to reach for a couple of handcuffs to turn you in for getting your filthy paws on a man of the law, but to unbutton them. But it takes approximately five seconds to get you down on your knees without a fight, head poking out against the prominent curve of his cock resting obscenely and heavy on the canvas of your painted face.

He stumbles back to lean on the grimy tiles that’ve most likely been subjected to a hundred other bathroom fucks prior to you prancing along. Lamb to slaughter. You’re not as different as you thought you were, fawn-ish eyes squinting while you kiss along his tip and take on the rest, he’s big, but in a way that virgins approach their first blowjob. You’ve seen plenty, just not one from an older type, surprisingly.

White webs of pre paint you a new lip combo across your lip’s downward arch, and his scent down here is so unbelievably strong. Soapy and suffocating, but the aroma of sweat prospers, and the lurking scent of what made Leon so unique. The smell of his exertion, the smell of his day’s old clothes, the smell of his sheets after long shifts.

“Christ,” Leon groans, gripping the top of your head, “I didn’t know you liked me this much, you fuckin’ nympho.”

“The more you know.” you mutter cheekily around a morsel of fat cock, staying consistent with your head bobbing forwards and backs rhythmically, and you should be humiliated by getting your thong soaked from a little bit of cock-sucking. Things happen.

“Not surprised, baby.” He lets out this condescending chuckle when his thrusted hips catch you by surprise, emitting a muffled gasp, but you’re too bent on taking his cock deep down your throat to scold him as always—so you let him do whatever he wants to you, like those unsuspecting girls who came before. Doesn’t take long for the blunt head to nudge against the back of your throat, you’re starting to get somewhere with him, gagging as you struggle to accommodate his size, mascara staining your cheeks porno-style in shades of gray and deep black. You nuzzle your chin against his hefty balls, giving them a brief lick up the seam, and it’s his turn to gasp. “Easy, girl, fuck you learn to do that?” One of his eyebrows quirk up in amusement, his libido on a rise.

Parting away from him seems to do the trick of catching your breath. Damp and utterly fucked-out, your doll face peers up at him between cum-stained lashes. He’s convinced himself you look ten times hotter this way. Especially when you’re back to going down, leaking tip pressed against your forehead while you make a mess out of his balls this time. Sweetly, you press a kiss to his perineum and soak up what you can—nosing your way into his balls and popping each one on your tongue.

In an unpredictable rotation, you alternate between licking up his balls and going straight to lapping over the veins of his fat cock, it’s a win-win situation. “Reckon you’re enjoying yourself a little too much, sweetheart.”

“Mhm.” It’s a faraway response, strung up in the reveries of indulging yourself in a way you’ve never done before as you lather your tongue over his crotch like the stupidest puppy, you prefer to make your men feel it, and climbing up (correction: fucking) into the ranks got you a gaggle of girl friends and boys on a leash for your expertise.

“C’mon up, I can’t be letting myself have all the fun here.” Leon tsks thoughtfully, grabbing you by the hair in a mindful tug and pulling you off his dick, connected by a bridge of stringy spit and bubbling arousal slicking your pretty mouth. As a kitten, you take one of his boot-clad feet between your thighs, sitting docile and nuzzling against his wet cock like the sweetest stray. He’s taken you in for the night, and if luck plays its cards here, you’ll become a permanent resident; scratching up furniture, wearing his shirts, becoming the controversial talk of family dinners.

“Bend over the sink for me, baby, feet apart like that—ooh, careful there,” Easing off quivering legs with a bit of stumble in your step, skirt hiked up till it transcends being a miniskirt, he shuffled behind you—you live up to the feline title, back purposely bent inwards to invoke a sensation of erotica, and you still think you’re taking this whole thing a notch too far, that your family’s good name was going to be polluted and you’ve done their reputation a good deal of harm, but you’re wetter than ever and he’s got his cock on your lower back and there’s no turning back even if you wanted to.

He grabs your jaw and hauls your ruined face over the slope of your shoulder, at last forcing his lips—naturally plump, and scruffy with his blonde-gray stubble—onto yours, tasting the concoction of cum, cherry gloss, and alcohol that bleeds filth into the kiss.

“I don’t think we should be doin’ this, mister,” you slur lowly, giving him those fuck me eyes that contradicts what comes out of your throat.

“What do you mean?” He asks, giving you a long blink with pale blue eyes, shining as the finest crystals.

Hypnotizing at its finest.

“I mean, I dunno… we’re both pretty wasted, feels wrong,” your back subconsciously arches into a graceful, slinky curve, ass backing up at his crotch as if he’s got a hex over you.

“You’re telling me otherwise over here, baby,” He chuckles almost mockingly and suddenly you regret every saying anything—like, yeah, you thought this was totally wrong in everything single handbook, but he’s a hunk. You couldn’t get knockouts like him anywhere else. A hunk who cups your mound through the soaked fabric of your thong, makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“Leon, I’m serious.” you pout.

“And I’m not? I thought girls like you were cut out for shit like this,” he tells you with a stifled grunt, his foot taps the side of yours and you stand on your thighs, pussy clenching around the wide, empty air while his disgustingly hung cock nestled in the perfect heart-shaped space of your perked ass.

“I’m not a fucking slut!” you try to tell him, ironically, and there’s this gaze you throw over your shoulder that crosses a wasteland of complete, desolate desperation to escape and take more, “It’s one thing if I suck your cock, but it’s another if I actually let you do this.”

“Don’t be like that, I only want what’s best,” in a swift motion, he takes both of your wrists and binds them in his fist, putting that retired authority to use and forming these makeshift handcuffs which ripples a wave of nausea at the pit of your stomach. “deep breaths here, sweetheart, this doesn’t have to be any harder than it needs to be, I’m just… satisfying our needs.”

And as violating as this could get, he curls forward and blankets your body, getting to where intimacy lives and dies on your lips—forcing a kiss of gnashing teeth and wet tongues that comes off as more penetrative, more profane than the repetitive act of your shut-tight thighs, subconsciously-moving hips accommodating a measured back-and-forth gliding motion of his cock sandwiched between your slick, puffy folds begging for the attention you never really wanted in the first place.

“You’re hurting me.” you whine, not knowing if to struggle more or feed into your deepest depravity.

“You like it.” he says, more of a fact than a refute, lining up his cock with your cunt, dragging the engorged, leaking head top to bottom just for the pleasure of your squirming.

“I don’t, though.”

“Should’ve said something earlier when you were sucking my dick.” Leon responds before pushing himself in with surprisingly little struggle, you’re so wet but that’s not even much of a shock, it happens when you’re a girl living off her exploited sexuality and capture unwanted prey in the seize of your canines.

“Fuck!” Your nail-beds turn pale as your fingers grip the sink’s porcelain firmly, legs quivering as the intrusion is quick and settles into barbs of pleasure, and he’s so, so mean. “I can’t, Leon, please—“

“You’re being ridiculous, see? pussy’s taking me with no problem.” He has to compose the upmost dominance by holding his breaths in, huffing deeply and enveloping your clammy waist in equally clammy palms, angling his hips so his pleasantly large cock stretches you out to the hilt, fat head kissing your cervix.

The mirror you’re pressed to lets Leon watch your unhinged jaw and blossoming cheeks of crimson, drool gathering at your tongue. Your bra is barely keeping you modest anymore, nipples diamond-hard while the air sweeps over, indents of his fingers pressed onto your tits.

Taking a splayed hand and moving it down the plain of your curved torso, there’s an upmost affection where he presses down on the cradle of your navel, crawling fingers reaching the hill of your pubic bone. Each time his cock unsheathes, blunt head popping out against your clit and then back into your hole, there’s a distant feel, and it’s a reverberating reminder what he does to you—molding you into something fuckable. Something for Leon and only Leon, and that does the trick to kick his hips into overdrive.

He’s notched in so deep you can feel him in every crevice, tight walls hugging down, pussy rippling with every movement he makes, liberation is pointless here and you’ve learned that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here tonight. Half of it wasn’t even your fault. He’s the one preying on malleable college girls, successful college girls at that. Your kind will never fail to entertain him.

When you stumble back and stand hunched against his torso, he takes the upper hand for this newfound position. His hand, in turns, grope your swelling breasts and he has to plant two feet dead on the ground to really pound into you. Drooling and basically catatonic, your eyes flicker to the bulb above in a roll, left to grip the sink in hopelessness while he internally batters your pussy—leaving it gaped and aching for the unforeseen morning where his Porsche and a trip to the drugstore would be ideal.

His face buries in your neck and moves up in a route of tingly kisses that pierce your feverish flesh. You spew the cutest little ah, ah, ah’s in a looping chorus, whining in his lap, perspiring fingertips causing you to slip and lose leverage on the sink. He’s there, though, he’s always there. You can’t get enough of him, Kennedy fills your pussy, imprints on your tummy, halts your senses and bewitches you with his cologne. Bottoms out, squelching and grunting at the hug of your pussy, balls smacking against your ass deliciously, the way you’re whining a little too much for someone who wasn’t supposed to enjoy this.

Your smeared makeup and strewn hair makes you look far from how he first saw you. But he’s not that much different, his own black waterlines reduced to mild, black-gray streaks. It’s sexy. It’s disgusting. At first, he held you up to a podium of angelic, docile, innocent and baring her teeth in defense as a faux predator—now he’s not that sure what exactly to make of you. You’re something. Yeah. He’ll settle with what; a bold, enticing, wanting, little something.

“Jesus, baby, you’re tighter than a fucking nun,” Leon brings his hand down again to spread your sticky folds apart, getting to where he is the most, massaging the nub of your overwhelmed clit. “Fat around here too, what’cha been feeding her?”

Without much coherent thinking on his end, he’s fisting your hair in a bunch and tugs you up and back, face tilted till you saw his crow’s feet, and his stubble, and the perfectly-timed droplet of sweat dribbling down the slope of his stupidly angular nose, and everything that made him sexy, unforgettable. Making note of your agape lips, he uses his position of power and spits love into your tongue just because he feels like it. You’re taken aback for a moment, but given your state of vulnerability, you swallow it down.

Shaking his head, he can’t help but allow a subtle chuckle to slip by—you’re a compliant, fascinating creature. Sweet, is what he’d call you. You think there’s a correct way to do things here, some certain manner to beg and act and behave when you’re told to. Leon’s response to that is returning, hot cheek pressed to yours while two feverish faces melt into one gigantic heap of mounting pleasure that sees no end anytime soon.

His cock jackhammers in and out of your wet cunt, pitchy squeals and whines dethroning the muffled music outside, ass red and raw from his discarded denim chafing your backside. The reality of his deeds are quick to dawn on you when he presses the rough pad of his thumb to your swollen clit, drawing messy circles into the soft bud as he pounds you merciless, pussy clicking with every thrust. It’s embarrassingly loud on the ears.

“Leon, Leon… wait!” For the faintest of seconds, consciousness comes back to you, a split second too late to catch yourself as his relentless pace sends you hurling over the edge, tentativeness to being fucked inside-and-out thrown out the window when he makes you feel so fucking good, when your cunt tightens in a death-grip and you’re gushing in his lap like the slut he figured you out as.

“Shit, sweetheart, bet those campus boys couldn’t make you do that.” His rough, work-torn hands cup the span of your jaw, years of handling handgun magazines and using your fists does that, you suppose, though contrastingly gentler than its counterpart still working your overstimulated clit and making you sob out-loud pathetically. “There you go, good girl, see, I’m not that bad, giving you everything you want.”

“Are you done now?” You sniffle, resting your head weakly in the mantle of his palm.

“Almost, little lady, a guy’s gotta have his fill too.” His voice, in spite of its cockiness, strains while his thrusts get sloppier by the minute, his eyes fluttering as he pounds your cunt into an oblivion of unfeeling.

You can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore. Fading in and out of your general consciousness. Like, yeah, his dick was all kinds of mind-blowing, you couldn’t fake that till you made it, but it’s more of his oozing strength he isn’t afraid to make a display of. You’re over here pulling a pornstar-worthy reaction for him—feeding his extraordinary conceit, tainting your reputation, making an indecent display out of the good girl your parents put time and money into shaping.

Defeated, your head flops back lacking strength, half-lidded eyes staring drunkly and making an observation of his current state. Leon’s eyebrows—threaded and laminated, since where else would that fortune of his go?—furrow and his eyelids shine boyish, he opens his mouth to eject another dastardly remark, and then your pussy gives a particularly tight squeeze worthy of emptying his balls and his coherent train of thought.

He’s an evil, foul, bastard of a man, but god, does he look beautiful when he cums. Wrinkles enhanced with sweat, stubble-lined jaw clenched, plump lips split apart, blonde wisps sticking to his forehead. His orgasm is explosive too—throbbing cock curving upwards into your cervix, the plap of his balls hitting your ass, the warm flood that fills your heart, and your pussy in waves of sticky white.

For the faintest of moments, you’re granted a brief respite and tranquility buzzes in the air. Leon pulls out with an ear-splitting pop, cock resting heavy in his hand. What confuses you the most is the lack of a belt being unbuckled and the shuffle of denim being tugged back up his waist. Just as you’re about to question him through a weak voice, he abruptly flips you around in position, stationing your ass on the edge of the sink with your legs obscenely spread.

“What—what the fuck are you doing?” you mumble, hissing at the cold air hitting your cunt.

He hums thoughtfully and ends up kneeling between your thighs in prayer, hands running up and down your soft thighs. “Think of this as an apology, baby—I’ll admit, I’ve been an asshole to you tonight.”

“I think your money already covered that part.”

“Money comes and goes, you never know if you’ll see me again.”

You hold a hand over your mouth, teething the space given to your pointer and thumb, helplessly watching between your legs as you give him easy access. Leon stares back, pupils blown, one of the many telltale signs he’s lost it. You must’ve too, hand leaving its cupped hold and reaching down to spread your labia that’s so wet your fingers slip in the process.

Immediately, Leon revels in your hospitality, running his tongue along your folds, weeding out your desperation with a sloppy kiss to your clit for good measure. His hands are an immovable force keeping your legs spread apart, your fingers weaving across a plentiful blonde sea, legs hooked around spanning shoulders, jabbing your kitten heels into his upper back muscles to prevent escape.

He laps at your pussy like a starved man. His tongue gets inside effortlessly, the bridge of his nose bumping your clit for double stimulation. In a way, this was vengeance for what he did. How he totally wrecked you on the inside, zero repercussions. You’re feeling particularly smug so you tug on his hair to wrench him deeper into your pussy. Revenge porn, is what you thought this ordeal realistically was. You’re getting your pussy eaten, he’s got his dick sucked, it’s a win-win situation (forced penetration aside).

Leon, Leon, Leon.

Your poor, still-sensitive pussy, she’s been subjected to a lot tonight. After this was all done, the calm after the storm, he could at least put a ring on you or have the chivalry to drive you down to a drugstore or—god, who were you kidding? You know men like Leon, you’ve fucked them, you fucked him. The most he’s capable of is a pat on the back and a tissue cleaning up half the mess you made together.

It’s not much of a struggle to reel you back to him, bringing you down to Earth when those deep-rooted thoughts started eating away at you. He tilts his head more forward and exceeds the boundaries of ecstasy acting as a stupefying narcotic to your dazed mind. Fucks you loose on his tongue—giving turns to his tongue licking long, wide stripes up your cunt and capturing your clit with military precision, makes your toes curl.

Just like the last time, the knot in your gut starts to build, pressing in and making your hips squirm in place. “M’gonna cum again—“ a shaky gasp, thighs clenching and trapping his head in, “I can’t, Leon, you’re gonna kill me—“ you cut out as his ministrations strengthen, more meticulous, more flexible and drinking in the taste of you and him.

“Relax, baby, I’ve got you.” He strokes your glistening inner thigh in comfort, expelling his tongue deeper, plunging like machinery. Angel dust sprinkles in the swallowing black of your vision, and a sensation of rapture gets underneath delicate skin, stimulating your nerves head to toe.

A couple more broad licks does it for you. Big finale. The last thing your bleary eyes see are slick-covered cheeks and gray hairs stemming along the hairline of his shitty coiffure he should’ve grown out years ago—then you cave in, bursting on impact. You’re torn apart at the seams by the time he’s done with you, hips lazily grinding against his nose and riding out the last of your peak.

He thinks you’re hopelessly adorable, how far you’ve come in one single night. His head retreats, but a hand stays in place to cup your mound, stroking the plain field of razor bumps and your plush pussy lips. The kind of pussy he’d expect to find on a girl waiting to be fucked. Leon’s pretty knowledgeable about that, he’s been in this business for… god knows how long. Long enough to tell himself she did this for me, that’s for sure.

The deafening hush of the aftermath kind of made you wish you had drunk yourself hammered to death. He hauls the denim back up his hips, slinking his belt through the loops and clicking the buckle back into place. You stand on wobbly legs while tugging your thong up, muttering to yourself and patting your miniskirt down modestly. Doesn’t do much to prevent his lingering eyes. Besides, he’s seen a majority of you, if not all of you.

“You’re horrible,” you spit at him with the decency of a proper lady, shaken-up and hesitant albeit still so feisty, “you’re a terrible man, a pervert, a degenerate.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Leon questions with an amused chuckle, watching your flushed face in the mirror. An admiration of his work.

“I don’t need to—I know it.” you argue, reaching for the paper towel dispenser to the side and crumpling up bunches of brown tissue to dab across your thighs where his dried cum sticks.

He grabs your wrist before you get most of it off, tender-handed and solemn, taking hold of the tissue and wiping you down thoroughly that something about him seems more fatherly than anything. “I already said sorry, baby… I, uh, can’t be leaving you here like this anyway, you’re a nice girl.”

You look at him. He doesn’t have an irritatingly conceited look painted on his face anymore. Nothing but a monotonous, paternal mask there because, like you, he must’ve quickly been brought back to reality. Fucking a college girl on the low was not going to look good on his record at all, and worse if you had decided to march down to the station and cry rapist.

When you don’t speak, he clears his throat and musters enough courage to stare at you, blue-eyed and fond. “I hope we didn’t get off on the wrong foot, I mean besides that part, we could always meet up again and start over—not like that, but for… y’know.” he stumbles across each syllable, as if he didn’t get it on with you at the back of a dive bar after flashing his status of authority right in your face.

“I’m not much of a hook-up kinda girl, if that’s what you’re trying to say,” you take the time to really stare back at him, like gawking through the glass of an exhibit, residue of your lipgloss staining his jaw, the bruises left on your thighs, his cum drying on the thin gusset of your panties. “but I guess I’ll let you know if I’m around,” you say, only because you’re now recognizing whatever you’ve got going on with him was purely transactional, he couldn’t be seen half his age. That was unacceptable. However, he lives for the scandal so maybe he’ll somehow make this more casual and bring you over and fuck you through the floor of his Porsche.

“Fine by me,” He nods, lips spasming into a half-assed grin. “I’ll bring you somewhere nicer next time, promise.”

And with a last few dabs to your pussy and a kiss to your head, he’s gone just like that. A shadow vanishing from the luminous glow of the bathroom’s flickering bulb and the outdoor lampposts lining the concrete steps. You're ultimately left to your own devices, crossing the restroom's threshold in a sore limp and a parting gift left in the padded cup of your bra, a single inscribed Marlboro Red reading—

You're something dangerous, baby. I think we could make this right sometime, call me?

A fatigued scowl fixes on your face and you chew the kiss-swollen tissue of your ruined lip. He's done it this time. Bad to the bone and sick as a mutt, he probably hasn't gotten his dick drained this good in months, to be realistic. It almost makes you feel bad. An old dog like him could have anyone he wanted, but he insists on having a turn at you specifically. Young, cat-eyed, satin and feline. Those two things don't intermingle well and tend to clash in loose ends, a heated predicament yet to be settled.

You already knew this was wrong. Beyond it, actually. That was the most exciting aspect. On your way out, the light is safely tucked in its warm enclosure against your nipple for later.

Palmed, saved, waiting on his line to be picked up.

[strxwoq]

“We shouldn’t be doing this…”

Pairings: RE9!Leon S. Kennedy x Ex-wife! Fem Reader (Co-parenting)

Tags: SMUT, porn with plot, age gap!! (Leon is 51, Reader is 30) dirty talk, oral (fem! receiving), bit of praise, dry humping, PNV, unprotected sex, creampie, slow to rough sex, fingering, mentions of breeding…MDNI

Summary: The after party of celebrating your daughter’s 6th birthday with your ex husband is a bad idea.

A/N: I really love re9 Leon, I preordered it so i’m so excited. I was heavily inspired by this post to do this. Please check them out I really love their writing it’s so good, they’re like my favorite. Sorry for some grammar mistakes, i’ll probably fix them later.

All you been getting bothered with is a cute yet annoying voice.

“What are we gonna do on my birthday?”

That’s all you been hearing for the past weeks. It’s been giving you headaches, you’re old enough, you don’t need white hairs to appear.

So when it finally came down to the big day, your daughter was super excited and a bundle of joy at 8am, shaking you awake. Gosh. She’s such an early bird.

After getting ready yourself, you take the time to get her ready. Cute little pigtails that thanks to YouTube you did perfectly. She smiled, her smile is just like Leon’s even though he barely smiles but it does remind you when you walking down the—

“Is my party set up yet?!”

Right. You shouldn’t be thinking about that. You should be preparing for your daughter’s big day. “Not yet, I’ll get on it soon.”

While her cutie self sits in the kitchen counter with her big tablet that replays the same video of silly cartoons you hear everyday. You try to concentrate on decorating. Even having your friends over to finish the final look. It came out like how you planned, a princess themed party, basic but cute and appropriate for your daughter’s age.

Dawn rolled in, everyone was here like you planned. You were such a neat freak. You even had a checklist on you at all times. “One more guest arrived.” Your friend said. You nod and looked down to check the guest list, there was only one person missing and that was…oh right. You look up to see who the last guest is, it’s Leon. You check him down on the list. That’s everyone.

After singing happy birthday, and seeing her blow the candles on her cake, it made your heart swell. She’s all grown up. You still need to see her graduate elementary, middle school, high school and eventually college. That will be in about 20 years, it made you realize how old you’re getting. You’re what? 30 years old. You were only 24 when you got pregnant. You wish you could go back to your youthful days when you were an attractive model but being a proud mother was somehow better.

Carrying your now not energetic bundle of joy to her room while she’s snoring, still wearing her big puffy princess dress. You set her down on her bed with her favorite pink blanket, tucking her very tight.

Coming out the room you nearly had a heart attack. You see Leon come out of nowhere, leaning against the wall, facing you. That made realize, you been avoiding him this whole time. If Leon was in one part of the room you would be way across from him, no matter what. You never talked to him for your convenience only for your daughter’s sake.

You shouldn’t avoid your problems, is what you always tell your daughter but maybe you shouldn’t take your own advice…I mean you two did end on bad terms, right? You kicked him out after you found him cheating plus his drinking problems were getting on your nerves.

Leon is looking straight at you while you look like a deer stopping right in its tracks in front of a car looking at it’s headlights.

“I just wanted to check up.”

You get out of your thoughts. Regaining consciousness.

“Uh um yeah.” What. You have no idea what you said or if that makes sense but you slighty opened your daughter’s room slowly as you took his words with the meaning that he wanted to check up on her, your daughter. “She’s doing great, she’s just sleeping.”

The air was so thick you could cut it with the same knife you cut the cake with.

“I meant you. I wanted to check up on you.”

“Huh.”

Those words hit hard. You haven’t heard that in a while, partially because you’re always busy and never have time to chit chat.

“Um, I’m doing fine.”

“Oh.” Dry yet some warm tone to it

This is so awkward, can someone burry you alive, you don’t even want to talk to your ex after all this time even after the divorce. You can still recall the amount of times you cried afterwards and even a thought of forgetting the bad things he did and forgiving him but thank god you saved yourself from humiliation.

Leon got a feeling of uneasiness so he backed away from you. “You mind if I grab a drink?” He says to light up the mood. You nod, leaning against the wall that was looking towards the home wet bar.

He already knows where everything is so it doesn’t take long for him to grab two fancy glass cups from your cabinet, it’s like he knows the layout of your house. Well mainly because he used to live here. Filling up the two glasses with red wine you didn’t even know you had. If you did then you’ll drink the whole thing.

“This is my favorite thing about this house.” He says as of course it’s the home wet bar, where his drinking problems show. He looks over to you just leaning against the wall. “You’re not gonna get your drink from all the way over there.”

He was practically forcing you to come closer to him. You acquiesced to his request even though you didn’t want to. Your fingers tapped the glass cup trying to distract yourself. The amount of silence was driving both of you crazy. You could hear your thoughts at this point.

Leon was thinking about all the times he made you cry, that day you caught him cheating because he was drunk, when he used to go away from missions leaving you alone with the baby, and who could forget the countless arguments you two had over his drinking problems. But he bit his lip, if he was going to apologize then right now will be a right time but his narcissistic self won’t let himself.

He saw your lips tremble around the rim of the cup when you took a sip of wine, before you set it back down with your lipstick coating a thin layer of it. It made some thing stir inside of him.

“I’m sorry—“

“I want to apologize—“

You two looked at each other with confusion. “What?” You said as he looked down at you. “I said I’m sorry, I want to say sorry for the things I made you go through, okay?” To make things even better he grabbed your hands, cupping them and pulling them towards his chest. “I never said how grateful I am to have you as the mother of our child.”

You smiled a tiny bit but enough that he could see. “So what were you going to apologize for?” Leon said in curiosity.

“Just wanted to apologize for being such a bitch. I nearly killed you when I was kicking you out.” You paused to look at his face and then your fingers traced the rim of the cup. Why are you apologizing? Is it maybe your drunk self trying to save you, whatever it was, you were pouring out words.

“I was-“ You hear him chuckle as you look up to see him crack up.

“You think?” He chuckled before calming down. “You don’t have to apologize for nothing, I was in the wrong anyways, people would’ve done same if their husband cheated.” Was that guilt in his tone…it’s been so long since you heard it.

When the words left his lips. You can see his smile. That’s the smile you were talking about before on your daughter’s face. The same smile he had when you walking down the aisle with your veil dragging on the floor before facing him, with the smile that read. “I love you.”

Your cheeks flushed a bit. Gosh what has gotten into you? Was it the alcohol…

“I missed you.”

The words said so smoothly like he practiced this before. Does he think it’s that easy to forgive him?

“Maybe you should say that to your girlfriend.” You said harshly to try to avoid this.

“I don’t have one. You know that.”

You inhaled the air like it was your life support. You then sighed. “It isn’t that easy to forgive you.”

“I know…I can’t say I miss you?” His cheeky grin made you want to tear it off with a kiss…

I miss you is already such strong words. But saying that won’t fix the birthdays he missed. It won’t fix the parent-teacher conferences, parent meetings, doctor visits he’s missed, no. It won’t fix anything. So why is your heart aching for some sort of touch.

When people used to ask where your husband was, you would lied. “Oh he’s tired” or “He’s not feeling well.” You practically felt like a widow with the amount of times he wasn’t home.

You always had to cover his ass. Only when he came back home from missions, your daughter used to run up to him. Hugging him so tightly and obviously asking where he was for the past 6 to 9 or whatever how many months he was gone for. His reply being some silly story for a 4 year old to understand. “Daddy was fighting bad guys to protect his little princess.” Then giving her a kiss on the forehead.

You would treat his wounds whatever it was. You would beg him to quit being a DSO agent but of course he dismayed your request.

Now looking at the same man with still some scar wounds you can see on his face, especially the one where a bullet grazed his cheek. You remember worrying when he came home with that.

You get out of your train of thought, sensing him getting closer to you. “Just stay still please” He plead before kissing you. To his surprise you kissed him back, you yearned for this.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Your words didn’t prove your point because your body was giving you away. He picked you up, shoving you against the wall. “Tell me you want this…please” He begged as his mouth hovered over your neck ready to bite down like some vampire. His hands got a grip of your ass, a big handful.

You quickly nod, not having a second thought to it.

You felt teeth dig into your collarbone. Your nails traveling up to his back, digging into his clothed back. “God Leon—“

In a swift move he held you up with one hand like you weighed nothing to him. You been eyeing his muscles the whole time you guys were talking. Damn he is strong.

His other hand went to your slippers which was easy enough to remove. Then his hand moved to your sweatpants, tugging them down enough so he can see what color panties you’re wearing. Pink lacy ones, cute. He admired it for a second before he started to unbuckle his belt. You unzipped his fly, he quickly shook his legs so he can get his pants off and took the sweatpants hanging off your knees too, discarding them on the floor, like some dirty laundry to do later.

Like you said, he knows the layout of your house at this point. He went to the guest room which was the farthest room from your daughter’s. In a hurry he put you down. Hovering over you as his clothed cock rubbed against your panties. The friction making you both moan like some horny teenagers.

“I think I know my way around here…” Was that his way of dirty talk?

He rubbed where your clit is supposed to be. Your back arches up. He continues to hump you like some rabbits mating season.

“Just fuck me already”

“Come on, baby what’s the fun of that when I can just finger your pretty little pussy” His grin, his stupid but hot grin

He didn’t even bother to take off your panties as he pulled it to the side, his 2 fingers sliding in. “F-fuck.” His finger curled inside you. You were wet enough to welcome another finger that it made lewd sounds every time his finger slide in and out.

Eventually he takes off your panties, pulling it off in one swift move. Like he’s done this with multiple women. Sucking on the wet mess he created before tossing them like some garbage.

His fingers now replaced with his head diving in between your thigh. So this is what heaven feels like. He knew exactly how you like it, his mouth sucking your clit as you moan for him, begging for more.

His mouth feasting on your pussy like he’s been starved. His fingers find your puffy clit once more as his thumb rubbed it harder. You started to squirm the more closer you got. It made him latched onto you more. You got more louder as your thighs began to close in and squish his face. Which he loved, pumping his fingers inside as he laps your folds. His stubble beard grazing your pussy made it better.

“Come, come all over my mouth, baby.” The way he demanded made you want to give it to him.

“Shit—I’m gonna—C-come.” One last hit on your g-spot made you spasm all over his mouth and fingers.

Not a secound wasted, lapping your slick juices that landed all over his mouth. This is like the water he needs, dying of hydration. You reluctantly let go of his hair that you had gripped. He gets up on his knees wiping the rest of your juices dripping down his stubble chin. You wanted that image in your mind forever. 

His mouth makes his way to your mouth, invading it. Twirling tongues with you two’s saliva. His hand travels to your shirt. His large hands going underneath it, getting ready to unclasp your bra, pulling your shirt off, breaking the kiss, leaving a string of saliva connecting your guy’s mouths. As he throws your shirt to the floor like the rest of the clothes. You tossed your own bra. He even took off his shirt so quickly like you didn’t even notice only his hands cupping your breast. Your hand starts to explore his abdomen, tracing his scars but most importantly…his abs.

“I miss these.” He laps his tongue in circle around your nipple before he proceeds to motor-boat in between your chest. Pulling away he turns his attention to his aching clothed erection. “Be a dear and take my boxers off, babe.” You do so, your hands reach the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to his knees. He kicked them off.

He was big but you forgot how big exactly he was. “Shit.” He cursed as his pants he discarded moments ago was in his hands trying to search for something. Grabbing his wallet from the front pocket. He looked into his wallet but to no avail he didn’t find one. He usually has an emergency condom on the go. God knows why.

“Do you mind if we—“ You cut him off with a kiss, you been on birth control, this came in hand for once.

He took that as a yes. Positioning his hard cock against your entrance. He was unsure how to take this since it’s been years so he took the easy route. He slowly puts in it as your mouth creates an ‘o’ shape still staring down at his cock going into you. Once he finally buries himself inside of you is when he began to move. Hitting your cervix already, he cradled you in his arms. As you begged him to go faster. Soon your face was pressed against a pillow, he lifts up your hips to get his cock in a better angle. It was uncomfortable but you felt him hitting your g-spot more.

“So-s-so tight.” He praised your tightness like it was a trophy. His hand goes back on your red puffy clit that’s screaming for attention. His thumb rubbing it. You moan against the pillow as the lewd sound of skin smacking together echoed the room. Hopefully your daughter won’t ask you what was all that noise the next day.

“I’m c-close…” Is all you managed to get out as your voice is muffled by the pillow. “Come with me, baby. Please I n-need you.” Leon’s voice was whiny and needy like he’s been wanting this for a while

Thrust after thrust, he talked to you like if you two were still together. “I wanna put my load in you, wanna have another kid with you, sweetheart.” He was practically begging for another child the whole time, even though you know that’s not gonna happen.

It was until he sped up his thrust, pulling your hair so your head falls back. “Take it, take my fucking cock.” His voice more sultry, he was gonna-

“G-gonna come—come with me, baby, p-pl-please, I need it.” Maybe he had too much wine.

Doesn’t take long for you to get more closer to your orgasm. Arching your back, you felt his hands on your hips, fucking himself with it. He hits your g-spot once more again. Your head rolls back, gripping the sheets. The feeling of his tip hitting your cervix in his sloppy thrust. “C-coming so fucking m-much…” His voice shaky when your walls clenched around him, practically milking him.

You felt his warm load inside you when you start to spasm all over his cock. None of you move, just moan.

After you feel his cock soften inside you is when he pulls out. Some of the sticky mixture falls onto the sheets. Laundry is gonna be a pain in the ass tomorrow. He quickly picks it up with his fingers, sucking on it. He’s such a tease and he knows you love it.

He kisses you once more. You taste the sweetness of the mixture. He mutters against your lips. “I’ll be in touch, more often.”

In the morning you felt his presence left, the bed cold, the only warmth being from your own body plus the sun light. You saw all your clothes still on the floor with the sun beaming on them. The only missing clothes you have is your panties…wonder who took them.

You took all the sheets and dirty clothes into the washer while you took a shower to freshen up. After putting new warm sheets on your bed and taking a well deserved shower, you can still feel Leon’s touch on your skin.

Putting on a robe, walking into the kitchen. You see your daughter eating cereal. Lucky Charms. “Morning, mama!” She smiles, you saw that same smile on Leon last night. Her big tablet as she plays a game on it.

“Did you enjoy yesterday?” You questioned her before she eagerly nods. “Go on, go get dressed and change out of that dress. It’s practically dirty from yesterday’s party and you sleeping with it.”

She was reluctant at first before pouting and going into her room to change.

You start to think what to do for breakfast. Pancakes sounds good. Then a sticky note caught your attention. It was on your fridge. It read. “Call me when you want to.” As it proceeds to have his number on it. Of course, that’s what he meant when he said he’ll be in touch more often.

Ripping the sticky note off your fridge you type the number into your phone, maybe for now you two can be friends.

@notvenomsnake 2026! Do not copy or try to copy!

Thank you for reading especially thank you for that writer that inspired me to do this! :)

[tnydolly]

re9!leon x younger!reader

warnings ; age gap ( leon’s 51, readers in her 20’s ), dirty talk, dirty talk of age gap, unprotected sex, creampie, slight hair pulling, praising, breeding kink undertone, slight aftercare

your bent over the counter, skirt flipped up, panties shoved to the side. his pants are half way down his thighs, zipper down just enough so thick cock is already out and leaking. he’s staring down at where your pussy’s swallowing him, jaw clenched.

“fuck…look at that,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “so pretty baby… such a pretty little pussy.” you whimper, pushing back, nails scraping the counter. “leon—harder, please” he snaps his hips forward, thrusting in deep, makes your whole body jolt. “shouldn’t even be inside you. too fucking young for me to be ruining this pretty little cunt.”

you moan louder, clenching around him on purpose. “i love it, when you fuck me like i’m your dirty secret”

he groans, one hand threading through your hair from behind, pulling your head back so you’re arched perfect into him. “yeah? like knowing i’m old enough to be your dad while i’m balls-deep in you? like knowing i’m corrupting you every time i cum inside?”

“yes, fuck yes—” you’re babbling now, thighs shaking. “your so much older, your cock’s so big, it stretches me so good, makes me feel so small”. he speeds up, pounding you stupid, your whole body shaking. with every thrust.

“should be ashamed of myself. fucking a girl half my age like this. but you keep begging for it and squeezing me like you want me to breed you.” you cry out, pushing your hips back harder. “do it, fill me up please…” he moans low, hips snapping non stop till he cums hard with a choked “fuck—baby”. he pumps you full, hips jerking as he empties inside you. you cum right after, pussy milking him dry till your legs give out.

he stays buried inside you, his heavy breath on your neck. his cock twitches inside you one last time before he pulls out of your fluttering pussy. his thick cum drips out almost immediately, running down the counter. he almost lets out a moan as he watches and reaches out to push it back in your pussy. you lay there whimpering and dreading to have to clean up the sticky mess.

[zenin-problem]

hi i liked you are u selective with naoya fans do you acept me pls pls pls pls pls say yes am i safe

Hiii I’m not selective at all :) I love all Naoya fans including you ^.^

[zenin-problem]

I LOOVE THE WAY U DRAW NAOYA NEVER STOP

THANKKKK U SO MUCH!!!! <3 I never will!

[zenin-problem]

Have you drawn female Naoya before ? And if not are you planning to anytime soon :33 xxx

Hi anon! I actually have done femnaoya art before! It’s not as good as it could be lol since I’ve improved but I do want to redraw it at some point!