Leon Evolution

you haven't changed, you just think you have

leon "stimming" kennedy feat. a souvenir from grippy sock jail

Played resident evil 4 (remake) for the 1st time and all I can say is that the residents were truly evil :(

Also, I'm obsessed with Leon now :)

push me

KNOCK KNOCK ITS YA BOY MR LEON 'traumatised' KENNEDY!!!!

patreon reward :3

Leon is so unserious laskdfhdsahg

ok ok

hello!! i hope youre doing well, i’m a new follower and i’m obsessed w your writing so you’ll def see more asks from me in the future if that’s okay🤞🏼

i think leon smut to sex type thing by stone temple pilots would be sick, age gap (dilf leon🤤) would tie it together… since the song is kinda old….

AHHHH TYSM! I'm so flattered that you enjoy my writing :')

You are ALWAYS welcome in my ask box, esp if you have Dilf Leon requests.

As we discussed, this fic isn't based on the song. But it is sheer filth. I hope it'll suffice :)

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

DI!Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Synopsis: This is just porn. But I guess... DOS Agent Leon has his eyes on a new recruit? There's literally no plot lmfao. Just car sex with Dilf Leon.

Tags: 18+ (smut), MDNI, pwp, semi-public sex, age gap (Leon's in his 40's, reader's in her mid-to-late 20's), p in v, oral (m receiving; mentioned), car sex, cowgirl position, dick riding, mild degradation, praise kink, multiple orgasms, uhhh reader calls him sir a couple of times but idk how I'd tag that, dacryphilia (kind of), lil bit of aftercare as a treat, cisfem reader

WC: 1,092

A/N: I didn't edit/proofread this. Just take it pls.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

It’s horrifically cliché, isn’t it? An older, more experienced agent lusting after the newest recruit. 

Like an animal hungrily eyeing its prey, or lively waves accosting ragged shores, he pursued you without remorse. Found you in the armory before your missions. Sat with you at lunch. Insisted on buying you your daily afternoon coffee. Offered additional support with your hand-to-hand combat. Offered additional support with firearms training. Offered additional support in any field he could reasonably imagine, all in an attempt to be close to you. 

He’d have been embarrassed if you hadn’t so readily accepted each offer. He’d have been ashamed if you hadn’t been practically drooling with anticipation every time.

But that’s the thing about newer recruits: they’re always so eager to please. 

And perhaps that’s why he took particular interest in you — your stamina, your grit, your willingness to learn. You’re green still, entirely pliable. Easily malleable to his wants, his needs, his interests. It’s how he got you to agree to suck his dick in the long-forgotten evidence room on the fifth floor three months ago when this whole torrid affair began. It’s how he’s got you straddling his lap, cock buried deep in your weeping pussy, in the backseat of his car now. 

You’d worn a dress today. A small one at that, with delicate little bows adorning its thin straps. The hem of the dress barely scraped the midpoints of your thighs. You’d bent over to pick a pen up off the floor directly in front of his office earlier this morning. He’d gotten a glimpse at the tiny panties you were wearing because you hadn’t bothered to maintain any modicum of modesty. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have considered this a mistake, or a lapse in professionalism. But he knows better. It was no mistake. 

“You’re such a goddamn slut, you know that,” he pants in your ear. “Such a fucking slut, wearing this dress. You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me to fuck you stupid in this dress?” 

You let out a lascivious moan in response, but it doesn’t suffice. His palm connects harshly with your ass. “I asked you a fucking question, agent. Is this what you wanted?” 

“God, fuck, yes! Yesyesyesyesyes,” you babble, thighs screaming as you bounce on his cock. It’s practically splitting you in two, stoking a heat so infernal in your lower abdomen you fear your organs will start to melt. Your grip on reality splinters every time the ruddy tip of his cock kisses your cervix. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders; the worn leather of his jacket puckers under your grasp. 

“Yes, what?” He hisses, harshly tugging at the straps of your dress. They hang limply around your shoulders; the bodice of your dress no longer clothing ample chest.

“Yes, sir,” you whine. Your back arches as he takes your breast in his mouth, a silent plea for more. He groans at the honorific, at the way your hands grab fistfuls of his hair, at the way you toss your head back to grant him further access to your tits. Your rhythm falters as he slips his hand between your legs. He rubs at your clit with a calloused thumb; it nearly does you in. 

For a second, you wonder (hope) he’ll punish you for it. That he’ll force you onto your back and pump his cock into your cunt with finalizing brutality, as he’s want to do when you spend the day teasing him. You love it when he gets aggressive; it’s so antithetical to the front he poses to his coworkers. A side of him only you get to see, an experience so entirely and uniquely your own, you think you’d die on the spot if you ever learned otherwise. 

“Leon,” you moan. “Fuck, Leo—I mean, sir— I’m so close.” 

He releases your breast with a wet sounding pop and presses his forehead to yours. 

“That’s okay, doll. Say my name again.”

“Leon.” 

“Again,” he grunts with a slap to your ass. 

“Leon.”

“Louder, angel. Let them hear you. Let them know whose fucking pussy this is.” 

“God, Leon, it’s yours. It’s your fucking pussy—fuck,” you scream. You hold onto him for dear life as you climax. White static sparkles furiously behind your lids as you clench around his cock. Your cum, slick and creamy, soaks his still pistoning hips, and elicits a preposterously lewd noise as he continues to fuck you. 

Strong hands hold your hips in place. Your brain devolves further into mush, into rapture, as he bucks into you. Your head lolls forward to rest on his shoulders. You’re boneless now; you feel weightless, out of control, like a doll he gets to use for his own pleasure. And heat coils in your lower abdomen once more at the thought.

“You got another one in you, baby,” he smirks. “Let me hear it.” 

Hot tears well in your eyes as your second orgasm builds. It’s far too soon after the first; he fucking knows that. You need more time, you need a breather, you need to—

“Let me hear it, angel. Make me proud.” 

And Leon knows that’s all it’ll take to bring you over the edge once more. You cum around him a second time, tears streaming down your face as you do from the overstimulation. He kisses them, laps them up with a greedy tongue. He doesn’t love making you cry, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it terribly erotic. 

“I’m close,” he grunts. “Where do you want it?” 

“Inside, sir, please. Please.”

He chuckles darkly, “Aren’t we fucking needy tonight?” 

Leon doesn’t wait for your response — it’d be largely incoherent anyway. He’d reduced you to whimpers and senseless babbling. It takes four more long, deep strokes of his cock for him to cum. It drips out of you languidly, viscous and hot. You wrap your arms around his neck; he wraps his around your waist. 

“Good girl,” he coos. “You did so fucking well, baby. Took me so fucking well.” 

You nuzzle into him, thankful for the praise, thankful that he’s holding you so delicately. He always does after your trysts. Leon peppers your face with kisses, assists you in fixing your rumpled dress, and slowly hoists you off his lap. He holds you for a bit, showers you in words of affirmation.

“Hungry?” He asks once you’ve both caught your breath.

“Starving.” 

He smiles sweetly then kisses the top of your head. “Let’s get you food then.” 

sick leave