Hii 💕 I Have A Leon Oneshot Request!

hii 💕 i have a leon oneshot request!

basically leon has been gone on a mission for much longer than expected and reader is soso worried it is eating them alive. and then one night in the middle of the night reader hears the door open so theyre scared because god knows who it could be so they go to check and its leon! theres then crying from the reader and lots of love and comfort that eventually leads to sweet comfort sex 💓

idk if you take requests on specific versions of leon but og re4 is my favorite version 😋 if you dont thats fine <3

Of course I take requests for specific versions of Leon!

I haven't written for OG RE4 Leon before but I tried my best to capture his sass/surliness. So here's what I think comfort sex would look like for him :)

Lmk if you want anything changed! I'm super happy to edit it as much as you'd like so it better suits your vision~

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OG RE 4 Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Synopsis: Leon comes home after a prolonged mission.

Tags: 18+ (smut), MDNI, hurt/comfort, established relationship, re4!Leon, AFAB reader, oral (m receiving), p in v, cowgirl position, missionary position, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, mutual comfort sex (Leon has feelings, too!)

WC: 6,270

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You’d tried everything to quell your roiling stomach: chamomile tea, peppermint tea, shots of apple cider vinegar, a whole bottle of Tums consumed over the course of three days (which, now that you think about it, could have actually worsened your condition). You’d gone on walks to distract yourself. You’d taken a yoga class with a close friend. You’d taken pilates with a not-so-close friend. And in an act of utter desperation, you’d called your mom to make small talk about the weather and her current hobbies just so you wouldn’t have to stew in your own thoughts.

But your anxiety hadn’t been assuaged, not even remotely. In fact, it festered, kept alive and well-fed by your incessant tears and the late nights spent hunched over the porcelain bowel of a toilet. Like black mold clinging to the back of your kitchen cabinet, it thrived on your misery, on the dampness of your cheeks, on the way your breathy screams humidified the gelid, sterile air of your bedroom when you had yet another gruesome nightmare.

Leon had been gone for almost two months now and he hadn’t called. Not once. Not a singular call wherein he’d sit silently on the line just so you could hear him breathe. Not a singular email or text or goddamn smoke signal to indicate that he was still alive.

He’s a callous man, though, not one to share his emotions so openly. He’d improved with you; he’d developed a heart when you’d sobbed and half-heartedly beat his stupidly toned chest with the sides of your fists the last time he’d been gone for a while. He’d developed a habit of calling you at least once a week. Sometimes he’d speak, but most of the time he’d just let you do all the talking. That was enough, usually, and he never complained — well, not after you’d given him a proper tongue lashing for his total lack of sympathy.

Leon’s apology had been sincere. He’d gotten you flowers, taken you to a lavish dinner, and showered you with expressions of deep remorse. He’d made up for it in the bedroom, too, and how could you really stay mad at him after that?

Easily, you think now. You can easily stay mad at him. He’ll have to do a lot more than bring you to climax a couple of times to make up for this — if he’s alive, that is.

You let out a small sob. He could very well be dead now. He could very well be dead and you’ll have no way of knowing. It’s not like you two are married — you’d been dating for a while, but nowhere near that level of commitment. You wonder if the U.S. government paid courtesy visits to girlfriends. He didn’t have family, and all of his friends were also government employees, so they’d certainly know well before you did if he’d made it out alive.

You remove the heating pad sitting on your stomach, roll out of bed, and pad over to Leon’s dresser. You’re close to exhausting his supply of t-shirts, so you’d taken to rationing them like some kind of doomsday prepper. They’re now reserved for nights you’ll predictably get little to no sleep, but when was the last time you’d slept through the night, anyway? No wonder you’re down to his last three shirts.

It still smells like him, like leather and whiskey and cedar wood. You take off the shirt you’re currently wearing—it’s also his but his scent isn’t as pungent—and slip the new one on over your aching body. You bring the collar to your nose, inhaling deeply. Tears prick your lids. God, how are you not out of tears yet? But a muffled jingling of keys and the distinguishable sound of the front door unlocking breaches the silence that had befallen your apartment these past two months.

Your blood turns to ice as you hear the door creak. It’s shut with painstaking care. You tiptoe across the room, and extract a baseball bat from underneath your side of the bed. You return to Leon’s dresser, reach into the drawer, and silently sheath the length of the bat within one of Leon’s socks.

There’s shuffling coming from the other room. Heavy boots on hardwood make minimal noise as they creep into—are they in the kitchen? You want to laugh; you’ve never before had a hungry burglar. Cabinets creak open and shut. The fridge door, sticky and always more difficult to open than one would assume because Leon had fucked with its hinges when he was trying to be “helpful”, opens a second later. Its dim yellow light is visible through the crack in the bedroom doorframe. You can faintly see a broad silhouette standing before it.

Leon’s apartment isn’t large. The bedroom feeds directly into an open plan living room and kitchen. You could use this opportunity to sneak up on the intruder. Judging by their stature, they can’t be too much taller or stronger than you but you’d be foolish to assume you could beat anyone in hand-to-hand. And what if they have a gun?

You resolve to stay put, to stay hidden. They’re likely to come into the bedroom anyway. You’ll get the jump on them as they enter. You take a deep breath, bat clutched tightly between two hands, and ready yourself behind the door. You’ve never killed anyone before; you hope you won’t have to do so tonight, especially with a bat. That just sounds preposterously messy.

The fridge door is closed. A plate is dropped in the sink. A stream of curse words are emitted in hushed tones. Your breath hitches at the familiarity of the voice but you shake your head and chalk the resemblance up to your own pathetic optimism. Leon would’ve called. Leon would’ve given you a heads up. Leon would’ve—

The footsteps grow closer. Your heart is practically in your throat. Shit, you curse to yourself, shit shit shit shit shit. You press your back against the wall, bat clutched tightly between white-knuckled fists. You try to make yourself as small as possible, to shrink to the point of imperceptibility, and as the door opens, you hold your breath.

Your draw blood as you bite the inside of your cheek; its metallic tang inspires waves of nausea. The door slowly closes. You clench your teeth, and flex your taut fingers along the handle of the bat. Your heart is in your throat. The intruder pauses after closing the door, glancing curiously around the room. And just before they’re about to turn around, you bring the bat down over their head. They somehow manage to catch the it before it makes contact.

“—Wait, stop,” they shout.

You can hardly hear them over the roaring of blood in your ears. You pull the bat toward you, subsequently unsheathing it and leaving the intruder holding only the makeshift scabbard. You swing it horizontally with as much strength as you can muster. It makes a sickening whack as it collides with the person’s stomach. They stumble backward, one arm wrapped tightly around their abdomen. The other arm is outstretched, in search of something along the wall next to the door.

And before you’re able to ready a third swing, the lights turn on in the bedroom, and you come to the realization that the intruder isn’t an intruder at all — it’s Leon.

You gasp and bring your hands to cup your mouth. The bat falls to the ground with a resounding thud.

“LEON?!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he manages to choke out in between retches. He’s heaving; the collision had winded him entirely. He slumps against the wall and slides down to sit on the hardwood flooring. “That was a—that was a good swing.”

“Leon, oh my god,” you shout, rage replacing your initial shock. “Leon, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

“It’s my apartment.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, asshole. How are you alive?”

Leon lets out a labored chuckle and rests his head back on the wall, “Believe it or not, I’m good at my job.”

“Clearly,” you spit. “Clearly you’re so fucking good at your job that you managed to stay under the radar for two months. I haven’t heard from you in two months, Leon. I thought you were fucking dead.”

“Which is why I expected a warmer welcome. Fuck me, I guess.”

The anger flaring in your chest abates as you finally take him in — bruised, battered, bloody, and filthy. His clothes are ripped, his lip is swollen. He must have come straight home, you realize. He hadn’t stopped to so much as sign his name on a report. He won’t look at you—can’t look at you—when your irises hold such ire. You take a few steps toward him, fists curled tightly at your sides. “Yeah, fuck you,” you spit.

“Fuck you, Leon,” you repeat, voice cracking slightly.

Tears cascade down your cheeks in fat rivulets now. “Fuck you.”

You collapse to your knees at his feet. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Leon Kennedy.”

But your tone lacks conviction; syllables spill from your chapped lips in an unprotected free-fall. Your words are slurred, garbled by the tightness in your throat. You grab fistfuls of his shirt, and bury your face in his chest. It’s quickly soaked through, but Leon doesn’t dare move except to gently cradle the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“You s-should be,” you hiccup. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know.”

“I was fucking worried sick.”

“I know.”

“I called my mom, Leon. I called my mom, and spoke to her for an hour because I hadn’t heard from you in weeks.”

“Shit,” Leon chuckles, “that bad, huh?”

A wet giggle escapes your throat, “Yeah, asshole. That bad.”

He holds you tightly, sore arms coiled around your shoulders. You want to squirm out of his hold, to recoil at the feel of his calloused hands through the thin t-shirt. You want to revile his absenteeism, his negligence, his indifference. A scream bubbles in your chest, a simultaneous cry of apostasy and piety now that he’s home. The acrid sting of bile kisses the back of your tongue. You choke it back; you choke back your anger, too, because it’s irrelevant now. It’s petulant. It’s ungrateful.

He’s home. He’s home and he’s holding you. He’s home and he’s holding you and you’re holding him.

You pull away to look at him more fully, as if in disbelief that this isn’t yet another nightmare. But then the scent from his soiled clothing wafts in your direction as if affirming his existence.

Your nose crinkles as you say, “You smell awful.”

“Two months in the middle of nowhere will do that to you,” Leon chuckles.

You inspect his shredded knuckles and the healing gashes along his forearm. “Middle of nowhere do this to you, too?”

He catches a stray tear with a hooked finger, “Classified, sweetheart. You know that.”

All you can do is nod. You bite the inside of your cheek. He cups the side of your face, and brings your forehead to meet his.

“I missed you,” he whispers. “I thought of you every night, if that helps.”

“It does… and it doesn’t.”

“You’re fickle.”

“You’re unreliable.”

Leon exhales humorously through his nose. “I’m trying my best not to be.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know it’s not your fault, too.”

Leon’s shoulders drop. He swallows thickly, frustration scrabbling for dominance in his aching chest. It doesn’t win out, though, and he clenches his jaw as the tear he’d been suppressing for the better part of his conversation splashes onto his scabbed hand. You kiss away the subsequent tears. He notices the dryness of your lips, but doesn’t mind. You’d been through it — he’d put you through it. His stomach flips at the thought of you writhing in bed at night, at the thought of you weeping into his pillow, utterly alone.

You stop kissing his tears when they become overwhelming, when he starts sobbing into your shoulder and uses your shirt as a catchall instead.

“Leon,” you sigh, “Leon, it’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he manages to choke out. “I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart.”

“I know you are. It’s okay. Don’t cry; I’m here.”

It takes a few minute for Leon to regain his composure but you don’t mind. You’d gladly spend the rest of the night pulling him into your chest, coiling around him like a snake just to ensure that he never left again. You run your fingers through his matted hair, gently untangling the knots riddling his chestnut tresses with each pass. You lightly scratch the nape of his neck. He hugs you more tightly when you do; it’s his favorite. He kisses your neck as a show of gratitude. You refrain from kissing his cheek — it’s coated in a thin layer of dirt. You’ll need to bathe again. Leon’s the first to pull away.

“You know,” he sniffles, “that’s not what this sock is for.”

He holds up the sock you’d used to sheath the bat with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No shit, it’s a sock.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Your brows furrow first in confusion, then in disgust. “God, Leon,” you grimace, pushing at his shoulders.

He wraps his arms around your waist, and works to keep you locked in his embrace.

“Let me go!” You shout.

“Were you not just crying because you missed me, sweetheart?”

“I changed—my mind. Go away—forever,” you giggle between pathetic tries at freedom.

“So fickle,” he laughs. You shriek with laughter as he blows a raspberry into your neck, and tickles your sides. You fall onto your back in your forlorn attempt to escape; he follows suit but he’s unrelenting in his assault. He kneels between your legs, swatting away your taloned hands with ease. His laugh is rich albeit hoarse and gravelly from weeks of overuse; yours is similar in tone.

Panic rises in your chest as his tickles continue. Your ribs are growing sore, your lungs are screaming for air. In desperation, you prod his stomach with your foot. Thankfully, he takes the hint, and stops. Leon places his hands on your knees. You sit up on your elbows, melting beneath the warmth of his gaze.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you sigh, nodding toward the bathroom with a small smile.

He reciprocates your smile then helps you onto your feet. His hands don’t leave yours as you walk to the bathroom, or as you start the shower. He lets you undress him, lets you lower yourself onto your knees and make quick work of the laces on his boots. He watches as your fingers furl around the tattered fabric of his compression shirt, gingerly remove his belt, and undo the buttons on his fatigues. You don’t make eyes contact. You don’t think you’d be able to finish without crying if you did.

Leon’s thankful, of course. He wouldn’t have made it through without crying either. He wasn’t lying when he told you he’d dreamt of you every night. He hadn’t been trying to placate you with empty platitudes — you’d occupied his every thought.

It had been his most strenuous mission thus far, the most physically and emotionally taxing. Only his horrific sense of humor—your words, not his; he thinks he’s hilarious—and the prospect of coming home to you had kept him alive. Maybe he’d tell you about it someday. Unlikely, but he so desperately wants to share this part of himself with you. He’s sick of walking through the world feeling unknown, like a fraction of a human or wandering specter whose soul is tethered to both realms.

His fingers find the hem of your—his—t-shirt, and pulls it over your head with aching, uncharacteristic geniality. You step out of your panties, eyes fixed on the extensive bruising along his torso. You run a tentative finger along the length of a particularly deep wound. He suppresses a wince, terrified of worrying you further.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he croaks. “You’re not that strong.”

You snort. “I should focus upper body next time I’m at the gym then. That way I can give you what you actually deserve.”

He gives you a soft smile, cupping the nape of your neck. “You wouldn’t prefer that I train you instead?”

“So I can hear quip after quip about how weak I am? Absolutely not.”

“Ouch,” he rasps, “you have no faith in me.”

“None at all.”

His lips ghost over yours. “Then why is it my name you always scream when we’re having—?”

“They’re curses, Leon, not prayers,” you sigh.

The nails on Leon’s free hand dig into the plush of your hips. “Right,” he affirms, voice low and gravelly, “they’re curses when you’re on your back, but prayers when you’re on your knees.”

He walks you back into the glass door of his standing shower. You gasp as your fevered skin makes contact with the cooled glass. He nips your earlobe, and presses gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Then what’ll it be tonight, sweetheart: curses or prayers?”

“Neither if you don’t get in the shower,” you gasp. “You smell like a fucking sewer.”

He tosses his head back in laughter. “I’d’ve preferred the sewers in all honesty. But fine,” he kisses your cheek, “I’ll be good and listen.”

“For once.”

“Only once,” he confirms, stepping into the steady stream of hot water. His hands find yours once more as you step in after him. His voice soften when he asks, “Don’t let go of me, yeah?”

“I won’t.”

Leon hums in approval, his hold on your hands tightening as he closes his eyes. When he’s confirmed that you’re here, you’re present, you’re real and with him, he allows his head to loll back and the water to drench his neglected scalp.

Your fingers trail up his torso, his chest, his neck, and weave into his hair once more. Your lower lip tucked nervously between your teeth as you usher him out from beneath the shower head. You let go of his hand. His chest rises as a breath gets caught in his throat, and falls once he realizes what you’re doing.

“I’m going to let go, but just to get the shampoo,” you say. “Ready?”

He clenches his jaw then nods. It devastates you, how tense he grows in the absence of your touch. You lather the eucalyptus shampoo in your hands. It’s his favorite scent, the only one that soothes him when he returns from missions. You delicately work it into his hair, paying particular attention to the nape of his neck, and his temples. His deft thumbs mirror your ministrations, tracing circles along your pelvic bones.

“Okay, rinse,” you instruct softly.

He listens, leaning back into the water. And you repeat this process, not once compromising the fragility with which you slough off the dirt and grime from his tired body. It melts off him like second skin, collecting in muddy puddles around your feet. Once he’s clean, he returns the favor: he lathers minty smelling soap along your arms, your legs, the valley of your breasts. His unoccupied hand trails after the fluffy loofah, kneading your soft skin in grounding, almost as if he’s committing your body to memory.

You’re cleansed from the pain of the past two months, scrubbed raw and vulnerable and anew by the same hands that had caused it. His marred body tells the most unholy of tales, but you’d done your best to dispel the horrors it had endured. He appreciates it—appreciates you— and the effort you expel to wash away as much of his sins as possible. They’ll never go away, the scars. He wishes they would, wishes he could flush them away as easily as you had scoured the debris and filth from his wounds. They serve as a constant reminder of his culpability, of his part in your misery.

But then you kiss the winding scar tissue bisecting his chest. It had healed improperly, leaving the skin gnarled and warped and puckered at its pink seams. He’d sustained the injury shortly after deployment. He’d worried endlessly about the way you’d react. He’d ruminated on the possibility that you’d reject him, that you’d find him utterly repugnant. He’d mulled over every possibility except this.

And it nearly does him in.

His chest collapses the closer your lips come to his heart, and once he feels your gentle kisses settle over the muscle with stinging finality, it collapses, too. He grips your wrists; your hands flex in surprise.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“I love you,” he returns, peppering the insides of your wrists with warm kisses. You watch him intently, curiously. He winces as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. Your eyes widen; he strokes the sensitive flesh of your wrist with a calloused thumb in dismissal.

“Did you hear me,” he asks with a chuckle. “I said I love you.”

“I know,” you giggle. “I was just making up my mind if I’ll be cursing or praying to you.”

“Oh? What have you decided?”

“Wouldn’t you rather me show you?”

“Absolutely,” he grins. He flinches harshly as he reaches behind him to shut off the water. You grab his waist reflexively, worry grappling at your chest. Leon gives you a sheepish smile. You give him a pointed look in reciprocation before stretching your arm past him, and turning the knob.

You usher him out of the shower, push past him, and retrieve one of the plush white towels hanging from behind the bathroom door. You dry each other off, unhurried touches taking on different meaning as the towel and curious hands graze over sensitive skin. You let out a small whimper as he cups your breast and his lips leave slow, fevered kisses along the column of your neck.

“Bed,” you gasp. He hums in approval.

You stumble backward through the bathroom door, body still warm and damp from the shower, but before collapsing onto the bed, you flatten your hand against Leon’s chest.

“Curses,” you breathe. “But they won’t be mine tonight.”

He arches an eyebrow in question, so you guide him onto his back in wordless explanation. His eyes soften as realization dawns.

“Sweetheart—“

“Please let me, Leon. Please.”

And how could he say no? He can’t very well argue, not when your eyes glitter in supplication and excitement. But he can’t acquiesce to your desires right away. That would be wholly uncharacteristic.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he says with a facsimile of a pout. He places his hands neatly behind his head, and gives you an expectant smile, eyes flicking from your mouth to his half-hardened cock. Your immediate frown dissolves into a warm smile as his breath stutters, shattering the facade.

You take his length in one hand, and with agonizing care, stroke him from base to tip. He swallows thickly, cock twitching in anticipation. God he’d missed this. He’d missed the feel of your soft hands working him into submission. His eyes flutter shut, breath hitching as your lips find the gruesome scar defacing his muscular chest once again.

“I’ve missed you so much, Leon,” you whine, hand quickening in its ministrations. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He hardens in your hands, a sharp juxtaposition to the way his muscles relax the closer your mouth comes to his throat. You suck on the delicate flesh, nip it until it flushes red, then lavish it with apologetic kisses. The love marks you leave behind are meant to compensate for the violence shown to the rest of his body — it desperately needs reminding of how deeply you cherish it.

You capture his lips with your own, slip your tongue into his mouth and pour as much affection, as much frustration and relief and adoration into it as possible. He returns the action in kind, hands leaving the base of his neck to cup your face. He pulls you closer, kisses you more deeply, and litters your neck with bruises of his own.

Arousal spreads like spilled sunshine in your lower abdomen, warming you from within. You feel yourself grow damp as he palms your breasts, as he rolls a pert nipple between two fingers. He cups your cunt with his free hand; you can’t help but keen at the contact.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he rasps. “Did you touch yourself at all while I was gone?”

“No,” you admit, heat rising to your cheeks. You whimper as he parts your lips, and coats his finger in your essence. “No, it doesn’t compare.”

“Damn right it doesn’t,” he groans as you swipe your thumb across the tip of his cock. “Am I going to get to taste you tonight?”

“Later,” you keen. “For now, just lay back, okay?”

He doesn’t listen immediately, too reluctant to retract his hand from between your legs. You have to pry him from you, beg for him to let you make your longing known. Smiles spread across both of your faces at the playful struggle that ensues: Leon pinches your nipple, you squeeze his cock, and urge him to lay back by threatening to cease all ministrations until he obliges. He chuckles sweetly as your expression softens, as you resume pumping his length, and trail wet kisses down his torso.

You bat your eyelashes at him coquettishly as you reach his pelvis, fingernails sinking into the flesh of his thighs. He emits a small grunt of approval, hips bucking in anticipation. His eyes grow glassy, unfocused in his lust for you. He tries to close his eyes but the attempt is met with a sharp nip to his upper thigh.

“Eyes on me, Leon.”

He opens his mouth to protest, retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s drowned out by a guttural growl. You drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, eye contact unwavering. You take him in your mouth slowly, inch by inch, the salty tang of his precum sending waves of desire through your system.

Your pace is slow at first, hesitant more than self-assured. It grows quicker as you acclimate to his size. You hadn’t forgotten how large he is — in fact, you’d been looking forward to the day when he’d mold you to himself once again, to the day he’d stretch you so thin you’d see sparks behind your fluttering lids. But your lungs can’t keep up with the pace with which you take him and soon enough, you see the blackened wisps of asphyxiation enter your periphery. You slip a hand between your legs, and rub tight concentric circles along your clit. You use your free hand to compensate for what your mouth can’t reach.

You moan around him as your orgasm builds; he moans in return, savoring the way the sound reverberates through his system. He cradles the back of your head, strokes it lovingly as you take him deeper, deeper, deeper. The coil in his stomach tightens — he’s so close. He can tell you’re close, too, based on the arrhythmic tempo with which you take him.

An overwhelming need to take you, to hold you, to make you his once again grapples at his chest. It had been so long since he’d had you, so long since he’d showered you with praise and affection. He feels his consciousness slipping, mind growing fuzzy as his arousal reaches a fever pitch. He wants to tell you to keep going; he need to tell you to stop. But his words come out as garbled nonsense the more you tighten your lips around his length and the more you hollow out your cheeks.

Unable to control himself much longer, he thrusts up into you. You’re taken aback, gagged as the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You give him a warning glare, pausing halfway down his cock, tears pricking the inner corners of your eyes. He could come from the heat of your scowl alone.

“S-sorry,” he chuckles as the fog slowly lifts, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.

He sits up to caress the back of your head. You mirror his posture, removing his cock from your mouth to press your forehead to his. He’s mesmerized by the way your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath.

“I just… didn’t think we’d get the chance to do this again,” he whispers through a choked sob.

And you heart shatters. You take his face in your hands. Tears threaten to spill forth, threaten to snuff out the heat building between your legs, but the gentility with which he holds you, the heaviness of his breathing, the ease with which he sweeps you onto his lap, stokes the fire nonetheless.

“I need you,” he whispers, “I need to feel you. Please.”

“You have me, Leon,” you keen, softly rolling your hips along his length. “You have me. I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

You readjust to straddle him more wholly, knees caging in his eager hips. You roll your hips gently along his length, coating him in your essence. His head slumps forward into your breasts. You stroke his hair.

“I love you, Leon. I love you so much.”

“God,” he rasps, “God, I fucking love you, too, sweetheart.”

He admires the way the plush skin along your hips bubbles beneath his grip. You’re so soft, so sweet, so lush and comforting. His chapped lips latch onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, stifling a lascivious moan. Leon urges you to keep moving, keep gyrating along his aching cock. You’re happy to oblige, meeting the steady pace he’s setting with his hands.

“Inside me, baby,” you gasp, “I want you inside me.”

Leon lifts your hips just long enough to align the head of his cock with your entrance. Your hold on his hair tightens as you feel him push the tip inside, You clench your teeth, and shut your eyes in anticipation, only to receive a sharp, playful slap to you ass. You glare down at him, eyes alight with indignation, mouth agape.

“I need your eyes open, sweetheart,” he growls, tightening his hold on your hips. “I want you to look at me while you fuck me. And I promise—,” he bucks his hip up into yours, “that I”ll return the favor.”

You let out a filthy moan as Leon thrusts his cock into you. Your cunt is so tight, so wet after two months of neglect. He slips right in, from tip to base, without much struggle. But the dampness of your cunt and the depths of your arousal don’t negate the blinding pleasure you feel from being stretched to your breaking point. You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, you pull at his hair, you try to cling to something—to anything—in a desperate attempt to stay grounded. But through it all, you don’t dare break eye contact. You don’t dare look away from his darkening irises — once a startling blue, now a deep, sensual indigo. You don’t dare deny him the opportunity to watch you come undone.

“Leon,” you keen. “Fuck, Leon, it’s s-so much.”

You press your forehead to his again, and work to match his bruising pace. He takes one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and lapping at your pert nipple while he watches your pupils widen.

You’re so stunning like this, he thinks, so sweet when your lips have turned a startling crimson, swollen from his kisses. And he can’t help the elation rising in his chest when you moan his name or when your pussy, dripping with arousal, tightens around his cock. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, the only one who could bring this out of you, and that knowledge nearly sends him over the edge.

White spots blossom in your vision the head of his cock kisses your cervix. You grind on him. You gyrate and bounce and roll your hips in your frantic search for release. His cock twitches within you. His grip becomes bruising. His thrusts sputter.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “Fuck your pussy feels so good. God, I’ve fucking missed this pussy so much.”

It’s all so much messier than usual, so much less rehearsed. You’d both fallen out of practice, and it’d be dishonest for you to say that you aren’t the smallest bit relieved. The way he fucks you feels primal, carnal, like a deep-seated hunger that has long demanded satiation. It’d been a while since you’d both felt this desperate for release.

He sucks at your neck. You toss your head back to grant him further access.

“Leon—fuck— Leon, I’m going to—“

“Do it, baby, come on my cock. Please fucking come on my cock.”

And you’re swathed in rolling waves of euphoria. Realty splinters, your consciousness is swallowed in brilliant pyrotechnics as your orgasm crashes down around you. Leon wraps his arms around you instinctively, allowing you go to limp in his embrace. He fucks you through your climax, relishes the way his name spills from your lips in fragmented syllables. Before you’re able to come to, Leon flips you onto your back.

You coil your legs around his waist, and your fingers find purchase on the slats of your headboard before he drives his cock into you. You let out a sinful moan on impact. Leon reaches between your legs. He pressurizes your clit, rubs tight circles with a calloused finger, and the friction in tandem with the unrelenting bucking of his hips catapults you straight into another shattering orgasm.

Leon’s not too far behind. It takes a few more strokes, long and deep, for him to come undone and when he does, he swears he’s never felt pleasure quite like it. An immeasurable sense of peace washes over him as he feels your cunt tighten around him, as he feels you pull him to your chest and pepper his cheeks with loving kisses. The feel of your hands, of your lips, of your heartbeat pounding against the thin walls of your chest is akin to heaven.

“Leon,” you cry, “Leon, Leon, Leon.”

An incantation. A promise. A psalm recited at his altar. A hymn sung between a smattering of kisses.

His name is symphonic as it leave your mouth, grounding as it tethers him back to this plane, this apartment, this bed. He’s so underserving of your love. He’s so undeserving of your patience and kindness — he’s learned that long ago— but he’d be damned if he ever gave it up for anything.

Leon manages to regain lucidity long enough to remove himself from between your thighs, and lay on the empty side of the bed—his side of the bed. It’s cold, he realizes, colder than he’d ever remembered it being. But before sadness can burrow into his bones once more, you envelope him in a disarmingly warm embrace.

He hugs you to him, kisses your temple, your cheeks, your lips, and audibly laments over all of the nights you’d spent apart.

“It’s okay,” you placate. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“I know,” he whispers between kisses, “I know.”

He kisses away the tears that fall from your tired eyes. You manage to say, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” he croaks, choking back tears of his own.

Silence befalls the bedroom once more, but for the first time in a long time, it does’t unsettle you. You take comfort in the slowness of Leon’s breathing, in the slowed beating his heart. You nuzzle into his neck. He lightly scratches your back, and traces hearts and stars with dull nails.

“So,” he says after a period of comfortable silence, “those didn’t sound like curses to me.”

Your snort in amusement. “They sure as hell weren’t prayers.”

“Weren’t you on your knees for most of them, though?”

You smack his shoulder playfully, and giggle as he pulls you closer to his chest.

“Fine, they’re prayers” you acquiesce. “Though I don’t know what I’d be praying for now you’re home.”

“I didn’t know you prayed at all.”

“I don’t,” you state flatly, “But I… I’d’ve done anything if it meant you coming home safe.”

He clenches his jaw, and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m home now. And I don’t think I’ll be leaving again any time soon.”

You sit up at that, “Really?”

Leon melts at the optimism in your tone. He guides you back onto his lap gently, delicately as though you were made of glass. The kiss he places on your lips is sweet, docile, genial, so unlike the hunger with which he’d ravished you before.

“Really,” he affirms, smiling into another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling exuberantly at the possibility of having Leon to yourself for an indiscriminate amount of time You start to make a mental checklist of the new restaurants that you’d discovered in the past two months, the pop ups and farmers markets that had taken root in his absence. But your planning is disrupted as Leon’s half-hardened cock grinds up into your cunt. You gasp as its head grazes against your swollen clit.

“Have I told you how much I missed you?” He whispers in a voice so husky, so rough that it shoots arousal straight through your core.

God, you’ve missed him, too.

♡ thigh riding with kakashi - kinktober 2023 ♡

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨ 18+ | minors dni ୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary: you and kakashi are helping obito move. when his van is too full, you have to sit on kakashi's lap on the drive to obito's new place. too bad obito is a horrible driver, and the road to the apartment is much rougher than you remembered. kakashi x reader. college au.

word count: 2452

content warnings: thigh riding, slight exhibitionism, cumming in pants, sexual acts in a van, embarrassment and humiliation mentioned in reader's thoughts, afab!reader (pronouns not mentioned)

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨ nsfw below the cut ୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

“Obito, there’s no room for me to sit.”

He craned his neck around from his position in the driver's seat to examine your dilemma. You were right: there really wasn’t any room for you in the van. Kakashi was already squeezed into the only empty seat, and every other seat was occupied by whatever the fuck Obito insisted on moving from his dorm to his apartment.

“Just sit on Bakashi’s lap,” he shrugged, already annoyed and tired from packing all day. He could barely see Kakashi’s hair over the TV that took up most of the middle row of seats, so Obito didn’t notice Kakashi flipping him off as he rolled his eyes. Despite your sour mood and sore muscles, you still managed to giggle at the sight of Kakashi being annoyed enough to give Obito any sort of reaction.

You also giggled to hide your nerves, because the thought of sitting on Kakashi’s lap made you shiver with excitement, which was not what you needed right now.

Mind over matter, you told yourself as you climbed into the beat-up van. Kakashi did his best to help guide you into the most comfortable, least intimate seating position for you both, which was you straddling one of his thighs and leaning forward against the seat in front of you. Was it comfortable? Fuck no; your back was already hurting from carrying boxes to the van all day. But any excuse to be this close to Kakashi was nothing to complain about, so you made yourself as comfortable as you could while Obito pulled out of the parking lot.

“Sorry for squishing you,” you offered to him, turning your head just barely enough so you could speak to him. You caught a glimpse of him, and he looked uncomfortable, which made you feel even worse. “Just let me know if I need to move and I’ll do my best.”

“Maa, you’re not squishing me,” he assured, adjusting his leg beneath you. The pressure against your core was noticeable and a tingle worked its way up your spine, causing you to blush.

God, it had been far too long since you’d gotten off. Casual hookups weren’t your thing, and the last friend with benefits you had ended things because he caught feelings, so you’d been self-reliant for at least a year now. Your toys always did the job, but you wished a certain white-haired best friend of yours would do the job for you.

Too bad he’d never be interested in someone like you.

You lost yourself in thought, ignoring the feeling of Kakashi’s thigh between your legs, and focused intently on the song playing from the vans’ speakers.

That is, until Obito hit the giant fucking pothole he always hit, despite it being in the same spot for months, causing Kakashi’s thigh to put some delicious friction directly against your clit.

The noise you let out was definitely a moan. There was no doubt about it to you. Thank god it sounded more like a yelp of surprise and pain to Kakashi, but that didn’t stop you from blushing profusely.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning forward and gently brushing your thigh with his fingertips. There was concern laced in his words, which would have melted you at literally any other point in time; now, it was just making your current predicament worse, because you were imagining his fingertips doing something completely different.

You gripped the seat in front of you hard, nodding your head while refusing to look at him.

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” you stuttered, your voice a pitch higher than normal. “The bump just startled me.” You knew he could tell you were lying, but this was not the time to discuss it. Not when you were straddling his thigh and so close to his cock.

“Well if it gets too uncomfortable, please let me know so we can switch positions,” Kakashi offered as he squeezed your hip before letting it go.

Your pussy was determined to betray you. His kind words, the double meaning of “switching positions” that had you thinking of riding him until you collapsed from exhaustion, and the tickle of his fingers squeezing the soft flesh of your hips had you clenching around nothing.

You nodded again and leaned your head against the seat in front of you, willing your body to stop reacting to Kakashi’s body being so close to yours. The very back row of Obito’s van was the least smooth area to sit, so the vibrations were amplified, which had you white-knuckling the headrest in front of you and gritting your teeth. And of course, Obito was not a good driver, so the amount of bumps and jolts the van made only made you wetter and more horny and the most mortified you’ve ever been in your life.

“How you holding up back there?”

Obito’s words brought you back to reality. You’d been dissociating to forget about your current predicament, so you didn’t know how long you’d been on the road.

“How much longer?” you groaned, craning your neck to see over the TV that blocked you from Obito’s view.

He glanced at you in the rear view mirror and wiggled his eyebrows at you, which only meant one thing: he did this on purpose. That fucker. He knew you had a crush on Kakashi that you’d never do anything about, and he was always trying some stupidly concocted plan to get you two together.

“Only about fifteen more minutes,” he sighed, winking at you before fixing his eyes back on the road.

You groaned and let your head fall forward against the seat in front of you again. This was the horniest you had ever felt in your life. Your clit craved stimulation. The ache between your thighs had moved from annoying to downright uncomfortable. You were going to kill Obito after this.

“You look uncomfortable. You can scoot back a little if that would help,” Kakashi offered, placing his hand on your hip again. His voice had a husky undertone to it, and for a brief, delusional moment, you wondered if he was as flustered as you, but quickly shooed the thought from your mind before you responded.

“Yeah, I think that might help,” you admitted. Your back really was hurting from sitting like a cooked shrimp to avoid leaning back against Kakashi. You were already in this situation and still had to help Obito unload everything, so there was no sense in making yourself suffer any more.

Kakashi placed his other hand on your other hip and guided you further back on his thigh, closer to his body, and that’s when you felt it. Your arousal had soaked through your panties and your thin leggings, and the cold air hitting the wet spot sent a chill up your spine.

Fuck.

“Is that better?” he asked. Your voice was going to give you away, so instead of responding verbally, you just nodded without facing him.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, tightening his grip ever so slightly on your hips. God damn it, you were going to have to answer out loud anyways.

“Ye-“ you started to say, but Kakashi shifted under you to make himself more comfortable, and you whined. His muscular thigh pressed against your clit when he shifted and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped.

His grip on your hips tightened, and you could’ve sworn you heard a groan rumble in his chest as he breathed.

“Sorry, yeah. I’m sure,” you said shakily, absolutely mortified. You really considered asking Obito to just pull over so you could walk back to your apartment and scream into your pillow. Up until now, you were just suffering in silence, but Kakashi, the boy you’d been in love with for the last four years of college, heard you whimper when his thigh pressed against your pussy. There was no coming back from that.

Kakashi let go of your hips and didn’t say anything, only leaned back against the seat and breathed deeply.

Great. He was upset with you for being horny. You’d ruined any sort of chance of ever being with him at this point.

As you were mentally chastising yourself, Obito hit yet another bump in the road. You were clenching your jaw so hard you thankfully didn’t react, but you weren’t prepared to hear Kakashi whisper “fuck” under his breath as you involuntarily slid backwards just slightly. You knew what caused the reaction too: your ass was now pressing against his semi-hard cock.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, grimacing to yourself. This was now the worst case scenario and you felt horrible for putting him in this position. “Help me scoot back up.”

But his hands found their way back to your hips again, keeping you from moving away from him.

“Please don’t.”

You thought he was messing with you. There was no way he just said that. Was this a part of Obito’s sick plan? Did he convince Kakashi to go along with this, to make you think Kakashi liked you? This was a new low for Obito. You’d always joked around with each other, but never like this, and never with Kakashi.

You turned around to tell him not to joke like that, but you’re met with an unexpected sight: Kakashi, cheeks flushed, breath labored, looking like he’s seconds away from cumming in his pants.

“W-what?” you asked, completely caught off guard by his demeanor. He was always collected, so seeing him begging you to keep your ass pressed against his crotch couldn’t compute in your brain.

“I’m so s-sorry. Just pl-“ he was cut off by another bump in the road, causing him to curse and squeeze your hips so tight you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow. “Shit. Just please keep pressing against me like that. God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

His pathetic pleading went straight to your core, and you couldn’t help but roll your hips to chase the feeling you’d been fighting this whole drive. You gripped his knee for stability and paused, your heart racing and brain foggy from your lust-fueled haze.

After several deep breaths and a sliver of mental clarity, you whipped your head back around to check in the rearview mirror, making sure Obito couldn’t see you when you lowered your head. The music was loud enough that he couldn’t hear you two, and the TV was shielding you and the lewd acts you were about to commit. After your thorough examination of the situation and making sure you had whatever sad excuse for privacy you could call this, you slowly ground your pussy into his thigh again, causing you both to gasp.

“Is this what you want?” you breathed before you ground your hips down over and over in the same spot, pressing your ass against his cock every time you did. “Fuck, Kashi. This feels so good.”

The shame you felt was immeasurable. Here you were, rubbing your clit on your best friend's thigh in the back of a car. Your face felt hot from embarrassment and arousal. Stopping this would probably save you at least some fraction of dignity, but you didn't care. Your body was in control now, and it was chasing a high you'd been craving for years.

“D-don’t say things like that,” he begged, digging his fingers into your plush hips. His voice sounded so ruined, a stark contrast to his usual controlled manner of speech. You desperately wished you were facing him so you could stare at his beautiful face and watch the whimpers fall from his mouth. “We shouldn’t even be doing this.”

You knew the letdown would happen sooner or later. It was just inevitable. You also knew he was right: you shouldn't be doing this. But with your body acting as the driving force behind the determined roll of your hips, rational thought was currently taking a back seat.

“I know, but I’m so close,” you whispered, your voice sounding so pathetic as you held back your moans. “If you never want to talk to me a- ah fuck - again after this, I understand.”

Kakashi pulled you back towards him, your back now flush against his chest, as you continued to ride his thigh from your new position. His heart was hammering in his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear how its rhythm increased when he dragged you closer.

“That’s n-not what I meant,” he groaned quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist. You could feel him slightly thrusting against your ass, his hard length pressing into your soft flesh. “I meant we shouldn’t do this because I don’t think I’ll be able to ever look at you again without imagining how your ass feels against my cock.”

“Fuck,” you whined, your high quickly approaching. His filthy words were making you feel even more humiliated by what you two were doing, but they also made you so much wetter. Your head fell back against his shoulder and you drank in the beautiful sight of him looking so desperate to cum, and that’s what sent you over the edge. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stay quiet as you came, your thighs trembling around his leg from your orgasm.

“God, you look so beautiful when you cum,” Kakashi whispered, his thrusts against you becoming more erratic. “I never thought - f-fuck - I’d get to see you like that.” His arms tightened around your waist, pulling your body closer to his. “I just wish I could’ve heard the s-sounds you make.”

“Maybe we’ll just have to do this again sometime so you can hear me,” you teased, rolling your hips one more time against his cock. Your sultry words were his breaking point. He covered his own mouth with his hand, whispering curses into his palm as he rode out his high beneath you.

“Do you really mean that?” Kakashi panted after a minute of trying to calm down enough to speak. His fingers absentmindedly traced in various patterns on your leggings, the sensation bringing both of you back down to earth.

“I think this conversation is best to have after we help Obito finish moving and we're not limited to the backseat of a shitty van," you said with an amused smirk as you felt the van slow to a stop and park. Kakashi nodded in agreement, placing a kiss on your temple before you two had to exit the van.

You sat up and peered over the TV, only to be met with Obito’s piercing gaze in the rearview mirror. He didn’t say anything, only raised his eyebrows at you before getting out of the van.

He definitely heard you two.

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

read part 2 here!

344 notes View Post

fouyumixuri

11 months ago

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor.

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion.

The door swings open, and your body dissolves.

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully.

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier.

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit.

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness.

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

4K notes View Post

fouyumixuri

1 year ago

Insatiable (Part 3) [FINALE]

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The hunt is on. How far can you run?

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: I present the thrilling conclusion to this greatly anticipated part! I want to thank everyone for their support: for reading, liking and reblogging! I never expected this series to blow up at all. While, yes, this is the conclusion, I absolutely plan on revisiting yandere plagas!Leon, he was so much fun to write. I hope this part meets everyone's expectations! I also want to take a moment to showcase another one of @chanif-art's Yandere Plagas!Leon pieces, I love the way they portray him!

"Baby, I'm preying on you tonight, hunt you down, eat you alive. Just like animals, animals, like animals, —mals. Maybe you think that you can hide, I can smell your scent from miles. Just like animals, animals, like animals, —mals."

You run as fast as your legs allow you into the parking garage, opting for the stairs instead of the elevator. You take two steps at a time to get yourself up to where you parked your car faster. You don’t dare look back, you know Leon is hot on your trail. You can hear gunfire, screaming and the sounds of death from whence you came.

Getting onto the third floor of the parking garage, you spot your car on the far side and you sprint, practically throwing yourself at your car once you get there. You rip open the driver’s side door and climb inside, immediately locking the doors when you get in. Fishing your keys out of your pocket, you accidentally drop them onto the floor.

“Fuck!”

You bend down at an awkward angle to pick them up, hooking your finger around the keyring and sitting back up where you are met with Leon staring at you, his clawed hands pressed against the glass of your driver’s side window. You suck in a breath, your eyes locked onto his blood red eyes.

“Found you!” he says, a sadistic grin forming on his face.

You see his sharpened canine teeth once he fully grins; he opens his mouth and you watch as a set of mandibles come out from inside his mouth, a low guttural growling sound coming out of him. This is nothing like the nightmare you had.

This is a thousand times worse.

You let out a blood curdling scream before you turn your attention back to starting your car, shoving your key into the ignition and turning the car over. The car roars to life, you immediately throw it in drive and slam your foot on the gas, launching forward as you turn the wheel to the left, drifting around the bend to go down the ramp to get out of the parking garage.

You get to the bottom, busting through the barrier to get onto the street. You swerve through traffic, trying to get onto the interstate as quickly as possible. However, the gridlock traffic on the on ramp makes that impossible, so you continue to swerve through traffic in the heart of the city. You look in your rear view mirror, your stomach sinking at the sight of Leon keeping up with you, jumping on and over cars as he chases after you.

You make a split second decision to turn left down an alleyway and you gun it, the tires squealing on the pavement. However, you slam on the breaks when you see that Leon stands in your way. Your hands white knuckling on the steering wheel as the two of you stare at each other. You furrow your brows and scream in rage as you slam your foot onto the gas pedal, hoping you can take him out with your car.

Oh, sweetheart, that is a big mistake.

He grins, holding his hands out in front of him to catch your car. His clawed hands leave indents in the front of your car as he plants his feet into the ground as your wheels spin and spin and spin until one of them finally bursts into pieces. Your vehicle now severely crippled, he walks over to the driver’s side, ripping the door clean off the car. He watches as you try to cower to the passenger’s side.

It’s futile. He reaches in, grabbing you and pulling you out of the car. He wraps his arms around you as if you were a long lost lover, one of his hands gripping the back of your head as he embeds his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply like you were a drug. You smell absolutely divine.

“Leon Kennedy!” he hears a man shout from one of the ends of the alleyway.

Leon turns his head, seeing a large group of men with guns pointed at him. Leon turns his head the other way, seeing they’ve completely blocked him in the alley.

“Let the girl go, Leon!”

Leon looks back over at the man, his tail whipping back and forth as a low growl emanates from his throat.

“No,” Leon says, narrowing his eyes, “she’s mine.”

“Don’t do this Leon! Let her go and we can end this peacefully!”

He feels you trembling in his embrace, too stunned to fight back or even scream. Grinning at the man threatening him, he bares his fangs, a low growl coming from the back of his throat. Then he looks down at you, your terrified gaze looking back up at him. Grabbing your face, he forces your mouth open. You start screaming when his mandibles come out of his mouth again. His mouth latches onto yours, his mandibles clawed into the sides of your face, preventing you from pulling away. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his body convulses before a Plagas egg slips inside of your mouth, causing you to gag. Releasing his mouth from yours, his mandibles retracting back into his mouth, he leans back as you cough profusely.

“Swallow. It.” he growls at you.

You have no choice but to swallow, otherwise you would have likely choked. The stress from this whole ordeal must have been too much because you faint in Leon’s arms afterwards. Leon throws you over his shoulder and jumps straight up into the air. A flurry of bullets shoot around him as he lands on the roof of the building, running across it at a terrifying speed. He leaps from rooftop to rooftop with the grace and agility of a jaguar; his pursuers found it impossible to keep up with him.

There’s an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city, a perfect place for Leon to settle down and enjoy his mate. Landing nimbly onto the ground in front of the factory, he struts inside with his prize still unconscious over his shoulder.

Your eyes snap open and you sit up; your whole body trembling as you start violently coughing into your hands. You look down, your eyes widening when you see that your hands are covered in your blood; you feel it trickle down your bottom lip and chin. Suddenly, it came back to you, Leon had infected you. You start hyperventilating, your eyes wide, darting around to your surroundings. You deduce that you’re in some kind of large abandoned building, the rays of the sun at dusk fracturing through the decaying structure.

You turn around, sucking in a breath when you see Leon sitting nonchalantly about an arm’s length away from you with a smirk on his lips and a look on his eyes that could only be described as lustful.

“How are you feeling, love?” Leon asks before he emits a low, almost purr like sound from his throat.

“Where the fuck did you bring me?”

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “somewhere safe until I can find us a place for you to safely give birth to our offspring.”

“Excuse me?!” You say with a gasp, pushing yourself away from him.

“Calm down,” he growls, “I haven’t done anything to you, yet. It’s not fun to copulate when my mate is unconscious.”

“I am not your mate!”

He begins to chuckle, shaking his head before locking his red eyes onto yours, “I wouldn’t be so sure, I should bet money on how long it’ll take for me to make you scream my name.”

“Oh hell no!” you say as you scramble to your feet and start to run.

You don’t get very far, however, as you feel something coil around your leg and pull you back onto the ground. Within moments, Leon pounces on top of you, pressing himself into your back, pinning you to the ground. You realize it was his tail that had coiled around your leg. His clawed hands pin your arms to the ground.

“Don’t you dare run,” he purrs, bringing his lips up to your ear, “I don’t like to chase.”

You feel his hardening member pressing up against your bottom as he grinds his hips into you. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply before trailing kisses from your head to your shoulder before sinking his sharp teeth into your skin. You scream, your body tensing up against the excruciating pain in your shoulder.

He unlatches himself from your shoulder, letting out a lust filled growl before climbing off you. You try to crawl away, but he grabs you by the hips, flipping you over onto your back. He sits up on his haunches, breathing heavily as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with desire. You watch his tail move back and forth and his back claws flex, ready to strike at you if you try to run again.

You watch as he grabs his shirt with both hands, ripping it apart to expose his chest. Even his chest is covered in those dark veins; you suspect his whole body is. Still staring down at you, he undoes his belt before he stands up to discard his pants and underwear. You can’t help but stare up at him in awe, feeling your skin crawl as you stare.

“Feel that?” he says, climbing back on top of you, slipping his hands under your shirt to pull it off over your head, “do you feel the pull between us? We were made for each other, love.”

There’s a sudden ear piercing ringing in your ears, causing you to wince and whimper as you grasp the sides of your head.

Give in to me.

Your eyes widen when you hear Leon speak inside your mind. This has to be a side effect of the Plagas, you had read reports of its mind controlling abilities; you never thought in a million years you’d experience it first hand.

I will make you love me.

The ringing finally stops; you hesitantly lower your hands away from your face, his face hovering just above yours. He presses his lips against yours, kissing you aggressively as his hands work to remove your pants. Once he gets your pants off, he sits back up on his haunches before spreading your legs apart. He licks his lips upon seeing the dark wet spot on your underwear.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he says, a purring sound emanating from him before he continues, “so nice and wet for me.”

He leans forward, grabbing the hem of your underwear with his teeth and dragging them slowly off your body. Once your underwear is off, he practically launches himself between your legs, his face buried in your folds as he inhales deeply before running his tongue over your slit. He props your legs over his shoulders as he starts to fuck you with his tongue, which almost seems longer than a normal tongue would be as his nose rubs into your clit.

You let out a moan as you throw your head back, your fingers digging into the ground as your legs squeeze against his shoulders. You cry out when you start to hear the painful ringing again.

That's it, cum for me. Cum on my tongue.

Leon growls, the vibration shooting through your entire body. You are driven so close to the edge, causing tears to flow from your eyes.

“Oh… oh god… oh fuck… L-Leon!” you scream, “I’m… I’m gonna cum…!”

You feel Leon smile into your folds, his tongue still buried in your cunt.

What a good girl you are! Didn’t I tell you I’d have you screaming my name?

He lets out another growl, this time it’s enough to make you fall apart on his tongue. He moans, lapping up your juices as they flow out of you. He pulls his tongue out of your leaking hole, his mouth soaked in your orgasm. He licks his lips clean before he climbs back on top of you, his throbbing cock pressing against your slit.

“It’s time to breed this beautiful pussy.” he says with a sinister smile.

Leon looks directly into your eyes as he pushes himself into your body, watching as you squirm beneath him as he fills you. When his hips and yours meet, he stays still for a moment admiring the sight of your two bodies together as one. He cages your body with his arms and back claws, thrusting in you at a steady but powerful pace. His eyes trail down your body, taking in the sight of your breasts bouncing in your bra with each thrust. He reaches with one hand, grasping your bra and ripping it clean off. He sits up and grasps your thighs, pushing you back into a mating press and quickening his thrusts inside you, eliciting loud, desperate moans out of you.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice breathy as he fucks you ruthlessly, “such a good girl for me.”

“Oh god… shi-- L-Leon!” you moan, running your fingers through your own hair as you throw your head back, already on the edge of another orgasm.

His pupils dilate as he stares at you and to his pleasure, watches as black veins start appearing on your body; you are transforming quickly. He attributed that to being in your presence, since he is your mate. He can feel himself getting close; he leans down, latching his mouth onto one of your breasts, making a purring sound as he sucks on you hard. He reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb as his other hand grabs your other breast, squeezing hard.

The sounds of your screams, whimpers and moans is music to Leon’s ears as he marks your breasts with bruises and bite marks. He feels you tug on his hair gently and he looks up at you, only to find you staring at him, your eyes gazed over in lust, your pupils now touched with red like his own. Seeing you like this sends him over the edge.

“You’re so beautiful,” Leon growls, moving back up to you to kiss you deeply.

He feels your pussy clench around his cock, sending him over the edge as he pushes impossibly deep into you, shooting his load into you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace as you moan his name over and over.

At that moment, a set of doors bursts open on the other side of the room, and Leon watches as a flood of men with guns rushes in, taking aim at him. Leon holds you against him with one arm, the other propping him up as he glares at the men, a low, menacing growl coming out of him. Your arms and legs instinctively wrap around him as he starts to stand up, his member still twitching inside of you.

“Put her down, Leon,” says the man that originally threatened him in the alley; Leon concluded that he is probably the squad leader.

“You’re too late,” Leon says with a grin, “her transformation is nearly complete and I’ve claimed her with my seed.”

He pulls himself out of you and holds you bridal style. He can feel you trembling, but you’re trembling from your orgasm, your breaths slow and heavy as you nuzzle in his embrace.

“You bastard!” the squad leader shouts, firing his gun at Leon.

Leon is too fast, however, he sidesteps the gunfire and rushes at the group of men, his tail thrusting forward, impaling the squad leader before whipping around, decapitating several men in a single swing. The rest of them stand there stunned for a moment before opening fire. Leon, while still holding you in his arms, moves gracefully in the midst of the bullets, impaling a few more of the men easily with his tail. What’s left of the men quickly lose morale, dropping their guns and rushing out of the abandoned factory.

Leon watches the men flee, a look of content on his face as he looks down at you. Leon turns, approaching a forest that lies beyond the abandoned factory. With a single, graceful jump, he lands in the trees, disappearing into the night.

Cameras Pt. 2

~Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count combined for both parts one and two: 8277

PART ONE

Content warnings: smut, sexual content, breaking n entering, stalker leon, obsessed leon, dirty talk, degradation, praise, grinding, slapping, spitting, choking, hair pulling, biting, aggressive sex, very brief mention of wanting to slice reader open and climb inside her, lots of begging, blowjob, throat fucking, taking pictures during sex, fingering, p in v sex, creampie

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!

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2K notes View Post

fouyumixuri

1 year ago