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leonsmamacita · 2 months

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Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Authors' Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reigned their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair.

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot.

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents.

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore.

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you.

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked.

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow.

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively.

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted.

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour.

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips.

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds.

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you.

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

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leonsmamacita · 2 months

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Hey guys can you NOT post your disgusting fucking father x child fanfiction about Leon here? LIKE ACTUALLY YOU ARE FUCKING SICK. You're actually fucking vile. I'm not even gonna call it a fetish because you're just fucking sick for this shit. You FANTASIZE about being in a relationship with Leon but he's YOUR DAD? Holy fuck. Holy fuck. GET HELP- there's no fucking defending yourself to from this like "it's just fiction," bitch that doesn't change the fact you want to imagine getting fucked by Leon but specially with him as your FATHER. You want to be fucked by your dad.

There's a general problem with Leon fanfiction here and it's always sexual and just keeps getting darker and slowly more illegal. You can't go five seconds without smut being thrown in your face. And now, you're writing incest for him? Bye 💀

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leonsmamacita · 3 months

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snorting up this fic like im addicted to the tina snow WOWIEEEE

you feel that?

OVERVIEW: Just a short drabble my mootie gave me from the line in di where leon's like "you feel that?" like hellz yeah i do...

TAGS/WARNINGS: Smut!!, afab!reader, di!leon (my fave ofc), p in v yaas, creampie (eurgh), i guess the one line of dialogue counts as dirty talk idk???, love makin a lil :3

EXTRA: i thought i was done w the whole fic writing bizz im not really getting anywhere with it but the second i think about di leon i can't help myself sorry!!! i need to sort this account out so bad its sloppy

WORD COUNT: 464 (im sorry its so short)

Calloused fingers brushed up and down your sides, committing every last scar and mole to memory. They looked so good on your skin, his hands; veiny and slender, always scaling your body as if it were as fragile as a house of cards, too close to crumbling from even the lightest touch. Lord, did it make him want to ruin you, with love, of course. So precious, like a diamond ring, he couldn’t help but crave that look you’d give him whenever he fucked up into you from beneath or pumped straight into you from above. Upturned eyebrows, choked moans that couldn’t even attempt to escape, not with the way Leon had your entire soul shaking and tensing beneath his body.

And that was exactly where he had you as soon as your back hit the sheets, legs already beginning to tremble at his sides the second his dick slid right through you, slick and easy with arousal. You hate how big he was, how he could bring you such staggering pleasure from a mere thrust, how he made you feel so stretched out, so full of nothing but him.

“Y’feel that?” His head was nestled beside yours, lips grazing your ear, making sure you heard every word. His gritty voice, and the cocky chuckle that followed after. Leon knew just what turned you on, what got you clenching around him so greedily.

Rhetorical question, of course. He knew you could feel every inch of him. One hand slid from your waist to your abdomen, right above where his body connected with yours, where he nestled himself in you. He was bulging right through you, reveling in the mere sight of you being so full that he was bulging out of you. And, God, was it good. He lifted his head just to witness the way your face contorted in pure bliss, letting it boost his ego momentarily before focusing solely on you once again.

Just like he always did; putting your pleasure first over his. Otherwise, what was he working for? Sure, he’d be getting an orgasm or two out of it. But seeing you writhe like an unsteady flame, which in reality, you were, skin, cunt and soul, scorching under the heat of sex. That sight alone was better than any orgasm Leon had ever chased.

He kept it all up until you were gushing down his cock, letting you call out his name to the world while he pumped faster, deeper, prolonging your pleasure for as long as he could until he felt himself being milked for all he’s worth; groaning your name against your skin before slumping on top of you, both breathless and spent, basking in the heady scent of sex and lust. You could feel him alright, in your cunt and your heart, needless to say.

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leonsmamacita · 4 months

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i’ve got leon fever

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leonsmamacita · 4 months

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The only logical explanation I’m taking

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leonsmamacita · 5 months

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sex bots on tumblr dot com desire me carnally in my chatbox but alas im in a relationship with 4 fictional characters so i must refuse their romantic advances

#im married #happily married to Leon S Kennedy <3

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leonsmamacita · 5 months

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stop giving predators reason to find their actions towards their victims "justifiable".

I just want to put this out there, if you in any way interact, like or associate with rape/grooming/incest fics please unfollow me right now. I have no right to kink shame anyone, but just as yall have the right to post this shit on here I also have the right to say I think it is disgusting to romantize it and I want nothing to do with it. I'm sick and tired of seeing these fics in the fandom. I don't even have to scroll all the way down to find one of these here and on ao3. Like is this what's cool now? We're okay with rape and grooming, with pedophilia now? Cause I'm fucking not.

I in now way have a say in what you enjoy or consume, if you want to excuse it as dark romance that's on you and your conscience, but I want no part of it. I will give my two cents though. When we put out this kind of content out there and advertise it as smut we are inherently excusing it, fetishizing it and romantazing it. We shouldn't be. Please I am begging you, be safe, realize these things are NOT okay in real life. These are not things we should excuse or sweep under the rug. At least I won't.

This is also a huge reminder that I do not interact nor want to interact with minors. My content is NOT for minors. I post literal literary porn. I do not want actual children to interact with it on my blog. I still will be blocking ageless blogs or blogs I see associating with the themes mentioned above. It's just too much.

I also want to thank @ovaryacted for opening the conversation about this. It needs to be acknowledged. Everyone is welcome to enjoy whatever, but we're also responsible for the content we may put out there and the effect it might have on others. And this needs to be addressed.

Thank you and goodnight.

#stop romanticizing things that hurt and kill people #stop romanticizing abusive and toxic relationships #if you’re an adult I’m looking at you sideways #just stop the weird shit man #stop fetishizing this shit

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leonsmamacita · 5 months

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old re4 Leon drawing!

#artists on tumblr #procreate art #art #digital illustration #digital art #resident evil fanart #re4 remake #resident evil 4 remake #leon resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy

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leonsmamacita · 5 months

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been seeing a disturbing uprising of this "fics" and it is further proving the attackers' POV of their victims "enjoying it"

stop fetishizing this shit, fiction or not. period.

TW: rape, pedophilia, grooming, domestic violence mention.

Saw the discourse in the community earlier and didn’t know if I should comment on it considering I already spoke about it before. But I decided why not, let me be real for second. 🤷‍♀️

Anyways, if you engage with grooming content or anything like that, unfollow me and I’m genuinely serious cause I’m tired of being quiet about the consistent weird stuff I see in the fandom. And before anyone says anything, I’ve already gone through the cycle of blocking accounts and tags so I don’t have to see it on my end. Write the dark content, I like dark content, but at this point y’all are just using it as an excuse to write disturbing sick shit that will give you the side eye. Because again…let me reiterate something.

There’s nothing sexy about rape or sexual assault.

There’s nothing sexy about pedophilia.

There’s nothing sexy about grooming.

There’s nothing sexy about domestic violence or abuse.

People will continuously say that it’s fiction, that it doesn’t matter because it’s not real so it shouldn’t concern them. What you’re forgetting is that fiction is a mirror of our reality, and if you genuinely have the capacity to romanticize this stuff even as a victim yourself that’s worrisome. I’ll never understand how you’ll have whole accounts dedicated to these things and not write anything else besides that, or be willfully ignorant in knowing how that can be harmful especially as an adult. But what can I do, it’s the internet, I can’t stop people from creating that or others from engaging in it nor is it my job to do that. I’m also not saying this to be some social justice warrior or to be holier than thou, but the stuff I’m seeing is just disturbing. I’m 22 years old, I have sense, and I’m just curating my internet experience and my page how I want because I want this to be a safe space for all types of people.

So moving forward, if I see you engaging in that, you’re blocked. Minors don’t interact with me please, I’m doing a sweep of my followers on my page. I want Tumblr to be fun, so if this is what I gotta do to make that happen, so be it. Much love, hope to have something for y’all soon! 🫶

#someone had to say it #yall disappoint me

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leonsmamacita · 5 months

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Down for the Count

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: while spending time with leon, you want to play fight. but having you in such a compromising position is obviously going to lead to something more.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, size kink, praise/degradation

word count: 5.3k

a/n: yay a- a- another one. thank you so so much to @sleepyluxe and @explorevenus for inspiration and ideas on this one when i was struggling. both of them are so smart and wonderful and i love them so much. i hope everyone enjoys <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight

Small drops of rain fall outside and splatter onto your windows. You and Leon are lying in bed, limbs intertwined and bodies pressed against one another. The bedroom was dim from the overcast weather and felt perfect for the lazy day you were having.

Leon rubs your back while taking deep, even breaths. You can hear his heartbeat in the position you're in with your head on his chest. You were happy to see him so relaxed. It wasn’t everyday that the two of you could spend time together like this.

His large palm trailing up and down your skin in soothing repetitive strokes has you melting against his side, feeling so at peace and attached to him. You instinctively lean into his touch for more. You nuzzle his chest and drag your cheek against his pectoral muscle.

He chuckles at your little display and tightens his arm around you. He’s still caressing your back as he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Your eyes flutter shut momentarily. For a second, you just take in the soft sounds of rain outside and the feeling of his strong body wrapped around you between the soft blankets. It felt almost like a dream, like you and him had created your own little world for just the two of you.

Everything felt so relaxing right now, but at the same time, it all was building a need inside you. Whenever Leon got this soft with you, it just made you crave him more. You couldn’t get enough. Even though you were as close as physically possible, you still wanted closer.

In an attempt to satiate your desire, you reach over and grab his free hand. You lace your fingers with his, feeling that extra bit of intimacy you longed for.

While holding his hand, it’s impossible to not notice the size difference between you two. His hand engulfs yours completely, almost looking as if he’s made on a different scale. You bring his hand closer and stretch out your fingers against his to look at the disparity before locking your hands together again.

“Your hands are so small, sweetheart,” he notes, seeing what you were thinking about.

You respond with a shy smile and gently nudge his thigh with your knee. “Or your hands are really big.”

“No, baby, look at you,” he says with his own smile spreading on his face.

He pulls your hand up and examines the size. He smirks as he loops his thumb and index finger around your wrist to show how they could touch.

“My little doll,” he coos and kisses the crown of your head. He absentmindedly plays with your fingers like he’s studying the different ways they could bend and stretch with his own.

The sweet names he called you, the loving tone of his voice, the constant physical contact. All of it only served to intensify the yearning you felt. You really just could not get enough of him, and it made you feel restless.

You hook one of your legs around one of his and pull slightly. He doesn’t react, so you continue, adding your other leg. You playfully squirm your legs with his to push and pull them. He drops your hand on his chest and looks down at you with a knowing smile. You nudge your head against his bicep as a way of signaling what you want.

“What are you doing?” he asks and brushes some of your hair out of your face.

“Nothing…” you say in a coy tone as you continue your movements.

He shakes his head, picks you up by the waist, and places you on top of him so that you’re straddling his abs. He smiles up at you, looking so cute in only his shirt and your panties. He already knew what you wanted, having played this game with you many times before.

“Try again, pretty girl. Use your words,” he says. His fingertips coast over your hips, causing chills to run through your skin.

“I wanna play,” you say, running your hands over his chest as you look down at him.

“You do, huh?” he says as his eyebrows raise. He squeezes your hips and a short laugh escapes his throat. He knew the mood you were getting into. “Well, what do you wanna play?”

“I wanna wrestle,” you say with a devious smile.

“Oh, do you now?” he says. He shakes his head and exaggeratedly sighs, “You never learn, babydoll. You know how this is gonna end.”

You whimper playfully and stick your bottom lip out into a teasing pout. Your hands grab Leon’s own and try to pull them off your waist. He tightens his grip and smiles to see you already struggling to match his strength at something so simple. Blood rushes to his cock as you squirm a little on top of him.

“See? We haven’t even started, and you’re already whining. Do you just want Daddy to let you win? Is that it?” he says and grabs your hands, pinning them to your hips.

“No…” you say, feeling heat flash in your belly. It was harder to be a tease when he slipped into this role. He could read you so well and drive you wild so easily. You wriggle in his grasp a little more, purposefully pushing your clothed cunt down on his stomach in search of some friction.

He looks up at you with a cocky glint in his eyes. He could see the effect one simple word had on you. He lifts you again, but this time, flips you over, pinning you down on your back with him on top of you. He holds your wrists down to the mattress and has his knees planted on either side of you. He leans down and trails some soft kisses on your neck before raising his head again to look down at you.

“You’re no fair,” you whine as you try to escape his grasp. Your legs try and fail to snake out from under him while you yank your arms, attempting to free yourself.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Just surrender, and then we can get to what you really want,” he says.

“I just wanna play. I’m not perverted like you,” you respond.

“Oh, really? You’re telling me if I slide my hand in those panties, that cute cunt isn’t gonna be all wet and sticky for me,” he says. He moves your wrists up above your head so he can keep them down with one of his hands now. His now free hand moves down to your lower body, lightly petting your center over the thin fabric of your underwear.

Heat floods your cheeks. His tone was dropping lower, becoming more seductive. You shake your head and struggle more. You maneuver your hips to try and get his hand off you. In truth, this game revved you up like not much else could but part of the fun was acting like it didn’t. He understood that just as well as you did though.

“You’re cheating,” you whimper with a gasp as he presses down on your underwear and slots his fingers between the folds of flesh. You bite your lip as his digits brush over your clit.

“Oh, it seems like someone’s not so innocent,” he laughs, feeling your damp arousal through the cloth.

“Leon,” you whine. You put more effort into your struggling now. It still didn’t make any difference, “Stop cheating.”

He squeezes your wrists and brings the hand that was toying with your pussy up to your face. He holds your jaw and directs you to look straight at him.

“Maybe I’ll listen if you ask properly and stop throwing a fit like a brat,” he says and kisses your nose.

“Daddy…” you correct yourself and speak with more composure, “I wanna wrestle. Please.”

“There we go. That’s better,” he coos as his fingers rub your jawline. Two soft kisses land on each one of your cheeks before he gets off of you. A smug smile graces his face as he takes one of your hands and gives you a firm pull to your knees.

“Ok, you know how to start. Not that it will make any difference,” he says with a mocking smile as he gets into position.

The two of you are kneeling across from each other on the bed. Your stance mirrors his, legs spread for balance like he taught you. You put up your arms and grasp his hands to begin. You thread your fingers between his and try to get his arms to bend so you can take the advantage.

It’s clear to both of you that he could get you in a hold right here without really trying, but like a wolf batting a bunny around before making the killing strike, he gives you a moment to think this time will be the one you can finally win.

He just can’t get enough of you. The cute way your face scrunches as you focus on getting his wrists to bend, your sweet and quiet grunts, the way your pretty leg extends out behind you to gain more leverage. And most of all, the size difference between the two of you that was even more apparent now. God, it drove him up the wall.

This is why he couldn’t cut these moments short and win right away. If this was a real fight, he could shatter every bone in your hand without a second thought. Have you down and himself moved onto the next target without straining his smallest muscle. But he would never do that to you. His darling girl, his perfect baby. Never.

He never ever used his full strength while playing with you. In the beginning, he’d been concerned about putting his hands on you at all. Every small whine or whimper had him fawning over you, immediately checking if you were alright. Once you two had been together for a while and done this dance a few times, he relished those soft noises, each one stoking the flames of desire within him.

Now, he advances your little game as you still struggle to gain any control over him. He twists your wrists and inverts your hands to make you vulnerable. One of those soft cries leaves your mouth, and his lips curls upwards further in triumph.

He bends your wrist in a certain way and is able to spin you around, bringing you backwards and holding you flush against his chest. He locks his arms over yours and leans down to press some kisses to the crook of your neck.

“What do you do now, pretty baby?” he asks in a husky whisper.

You crack a smile of your own now as you remember what to do. You become dead weight, sliding down and flaring your elbows. You manage to push his thick arms off of you and escape his hold. You flip around as you fall forward and land face up on the mattress.

This was possibly Leon’s favorite part of this game. The moments where you could use tricks he’d taught you. In the beginning of your relationship when you’d just started this kind of thing, you were so eager to learn, and he found it so endearing.

You’d asked him to teach you some of his ‘secret agent moves,’ and of course, you were interested in roundhouse kicks and suplexes. He’d laughed when you said that, having trouble imagining you being able to lift anyone over your head, let alone suplex them. But he was thrilled to teach you some basic self defense. The way you focused and responded to each direction with a brief ‘mhm.’ The sight of your eyes lighting up when you got something right. Both had him falling for you hard.

In this moment, after you successfully broke free of him, your eyes do what they always do. They dart to connect with his, searching for his approval, the reassurance that you did it right, that you did it just the way he taught you to. He meets your hopeful gaze with a short laugh and a nod.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Proud of you,” he says. He takes in his favorite view, the way you glow as you bask in his praise, before lunging forward and pouncing on you. “But that doesn’t mean this is over.”

A startled squeal erupts from you at the sudden movement. You frantically flail your limbs as he tries to grab them. If he could get your wrists pinned down here, it was over for you. Luckily, you hook your heel at his hip and kick, giving yourself an opportunity to dart out from under him.

You fling your body across the bed, attempting to crawl away and get to the ground to get some solid footing. But before you can make it, a large hand wraps around your ankle and drags you back. You claw at the blankets that are bunching up beneath you, but it’s no use.

“Where do you think you’re off to, little love?” he teases.

The game is over now. At least, that’s what you were thinking. Leon strays from his usual strategy of getting on top of you here. Instead, he pulls you up and puts you in a headlock. His bicep wraps around your neck and holds you to his side.

“What do you do here, precious?” he asks.

This one’s a bit harder to get out of. Your natural inclination is to try and push him off by the waist. However, he’s way too strong for that to work. Your own head would probably pop off before you could slip out of his tight grip.

You rack your brain for the correct answer, but it’s kind of hard to think when the bulging muscles of his bicep are against your cheek. Finally, you figure it out and dig your fingers deep into the point on his wrist that causes his hand to spasm and loosen up the hold.

You slip out of the headlock and lunge across the bed, but he’s too quick. He’s on top of you in no time, caging you against the mattress from his position hovering above your back. You roll over underneath him to look up at his face.

“Nice try, but you should’ve gone for the leg, honey,” he says and gives you a few gentle, patronizing pats on your cheek.

“No, you were kneeling, and that move only works on the ankle,” you say.

His eyebrows raise and it’s hard to mask the pride in his eyes. He can feel his heart swelling in his chest. “That’s right, baby. Smart girl,” he says and leans down to peck your nose before returning to his position so he can give you that smug look, “But you still lose.”

“No fair. If you’d taught me how to suplex people then I could’ve won,” you huff.

“No, you couldn’t have,” he laughs.

“Uh, yeah I could have,” you say.

“Nope. One, you could not lift me, don’t kid yourself. And two, that’s not how a suplex works. You weren’t in the right position,” he says with a smirk.

“Whatever,” you concede, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles and lifts one of his arms to stroke some hair from your face. As his fingers coast over your skin like it’s the most delicate surface on earth, you take advantage of his less stable position. You lock your fists together and bat your forearms into his side, causing his other arm to buckle and him to fall to the side of you. You shoot up and start to rush to the edge of the bed for the second time, but again, he’s too fast.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. His thumbs press into the sensitive area behind your knees. He yanks you back and pins you face down. He’s straddling your lower back with his hands on your arms and his feet hooked over your legs. His weight was firm on you this time. No room to roll around or dart to freedom. You still wriggle and squirm between his thighs in defiance.

“What’s wrong, baby? Not ready to cry ‘mercy’ just yet?” he mocks.

“You’re no fun. You never let me win,” you whimper, trying to flail your limbs for a potential escape.

“I don’t think you’d even know what to do if I let you win,” he says with a cruel laugh that has your panties dampening with more arousal, “You’d probably have to ask Daddy what to do wouldn’t you? Needing me to teach you what to do then too.”

You whine as your cheeks heat up.

“You know it’s true, baby girl,” he whispers, leaning down to speak directly into your ear. His breath fanning over you had chills breaking out across your skin.

But you still didn’t want to give in. You writhe more beneath him and try to thrash around the best you can. You attempt to push yourself up with your arms, but that doesn’t work. Not only were they held down, but when he saw you doing that, he twisted your wrist and had them pinned to your back with ease.

You buck harder, trying anything you can to get some type of chance. But all the struggling was a little tiring. Your muscles were starting to plead with you for a break, aching and cramping. He lowers his hips to press more of his weight on you. The combination of your dwindling energy and his increased efforts to keep you in place didn’t leave you with much optimism.

Your attempts get weaker, but your noises of protest get louder. You whimper and whine, occasionally throwing in a strained cry of “Daddy” to try and gain some sympathy. Like every other time you’ve done this though, the only thing your pleas do is get the blood rushing to Leon’s dick. You can feel it getting hard against your ass. You can feel the thick outline of it through his pants, and at this point, your panties are uncomfortable because of how wet you are. You shift your hips, pushing the roundness of your ass against the stiff length of his cock.

“Look at you,” he purrs, leaning down and rolling his hips into the fat of your ass, “This is nothing for me, baby. You’re gonna tire yourself out while I haven’t even broken a sweat. I could do this all night long, sweetheart.”

His hands release your arms, figuring you're done with fighting. He slides his own beneath your shirt. The rough skin of his palms drags along the smooth expanse of your back. His fingers ghost along your sides. He even reaches around to feel what he can of your tits while you're pinned down like this.

“Such a silly girl, thinking she ever had a shot at winning,” he breathes and presses some kisses from behind your ear down to the nape of your neck.

“I did,” you whimper, “You cheated.” Your eyes flutter as you try not to go dizzy from this alone. His lips just felt so good against your neck, and his voice felt even better to your ear.

“Aw, ok baby, you had a chance to win. Sure you did,” he coos condescendingly. He pulls your shirt up and over your head, tossing it off the bed and leaning down to press kisses all over your shoulders and upper back.

“I did. You set me at a disadvantage from the beginning cause you were trying to distract me,” you say, squirming a little more.

He quickly put a stop to that with a firm grip on your shoulders. “Mhm, I’m sure, princess. Daddy’s just so unfair, isn’t he?”

“Mhm,” you pout.

Leon chuckles at your stubbornness. He presses a kiss to your cheek and nuzzles your temple as he inches towards the main event. His hands knead your ass, giving it a gentle pat. Then, his fingers hook around the elastic of your panties and tug those down.

He can’t stop the arrogant look on his face when he sees your cunt glistening for him. Two of his fingers delve between your thighs with an exploratory touch. They stroke up and down your pussy, feeling the gathering slick and grazing your clit.

“Oh, baby. You’re making such a mess,” he chides playfully , “Daddy will make it better. Don’t worry, sweet girl.”

You grunt in pleasure at the touches. You rock your hips as much as you can in this position, but he pulls his fingers away. Whining in frustration again, you turn your head to shoot him a look. You see him trying to get his sweats off while still holding you down.

The slight struggle makes you giggle. He tries to maintain his stern facade, but it’s difficult to suppress the love pooling in his eyes when he hears that happy noise burst from your lips. That was why he played these games with you after all. Instead of just getting down to it and doing what he wanted, he always went the extra mile to see that smile. To make his baby happy. He gives your face a gentle shove and finishes up what he’s doing.

“Oh shut up. If you weren’t such a little brat, this would be a lot quicker,” he grunts.

That only makes you laugh more. He rolls his eyes and smiles now that you’re looking away. He manages to get his clothing and your underwear off while maintaining a good hold on you. Your time being a smartass is over as soon as you feel the warm, solid length of his cock hit your ass.

You bite your lip at the feeling of him lightly rubbing it on you. Your whole body heats up, nearly feeling the sensation that’s about to overtake you.

Leon knows exactly what’s running through your head right now, and it only serves to boost his ego. The clear power he held over you activated some primal desire in the deepest recesses of his heart.

“What’s that? Don’t hear you laughing now, babydoll,” he says.

You drop your face against the mattress, hiding your shy, lustful expression. You whine in protest from a mix of frustration and desperation at him making you wait. You start to squirm again. You pull at the mattress to try and gain some distance. You try to wriggle enough to shake him off. He isn’t put off at all by your little fit at all, only tightening his grip and pressing you harder into the mattress. He grins, leaning down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“God, sweetheart. Every time, I wonder if it will fit. I mean, I know it will, I’ve got that hole trained to take my cock perfectly. But just look at you. It doesn’t seem like it should work. You’re just so small, baby. I feel like I’ll break you in half sometimes,” he breathes.

After he finishes speaking, you go to reply, but you feel a shift in his position. You close your mouth, choosing to focus on the chance to play some more, but you quickly realize why one of his arms had moved. It was only to reach down and guide his cock as he bullies it inside of you.

“This is how you like it though, huh?” he asks through a clenched jaw as he pushes in until he’s bottoming out, “No room inside you for anything else but my fat cock. No thinking unless it’s about how much you love Daddy, right? Yeah, my baby, that’s how you like it.”

And just like that, you’re over playing. Any idea of riling him up by resisting is gone. You were getting what you really wanted after all. He was stretching you out and filling you up so perfectly. His body was all over yours, the sensual contact between the both of you, warm skin against warm skin.

Normally, he’d give you time to adjust, cooing praises at you and kissing your face as your cunt sucked all of him in. But he wasn’t in the mood to be patient with you right now.

He buries his face in your neck and keeps his arms firm in their place that has you boxed in. You’re whining and whimpering as his cock nudges spots of bliss inside you. His hips roll into the plush of your ass, trying to get as deep as possible.

“Oh, I know my pretty girl loves to lose. Especially when this is what you get. I spoil you, babydoll,” he teases, “But you’re always so brave going against Daddy, giving it all you have. So much fight in you, but the loss in the end is clearly your favorite part.”

“No…” you barely get out, still trying to be difficult. Even though you were done playing, you couldn’t just admit defeat. Your eyes were fluttering and your body trembled with the ecstasy of being full.

“Oh, it’s not?” he mocks you, “You wouldn’t lie to Daddy, would you? Cause that would break my heart, honey. My good girl wouldn’t do that, right?”

All you can do is whine as his cock keeps pumping in and out of you. You weakly shake your head that you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t be a bad girl and lie. He knew exactly which chords to play to get you like this.

“That’s what I thought. I know this is what you really want when you act like you wanna play, babydoll. You just want to feel how helpless you really are. How Daddy can hold you down and fuck you full of cum in any position he chooses. You just have to take it, and you love that,” he coos and kisses your cheek.

His arms close in around you. He brings them up and wraps them around your neck. Your chin rests on the crook of his elbow. He ruts into your pussy with slow and even but deep thrusts, grunting in your ear with each movement. He’s so all consuming, you don’t think you’re physically capable of a response at the moment. But it works out because he just keeps talking.

“You could just ask, but that’s no fun. You need me to show you what you want, how you want it. Isn’t that right? Cause what Daddy wants is what you want,” he says before nipping at your earlobe.

Pathetic sounds of pleasure tumble from your mouth as he speaks. You squeeze around his cock in pulses as the words hit your ears. You drool a little, not really noticing since your mind is clouded with euphoria.

He notices though. He swipes the saliva off your chin with his fingers before sticking them in your mouth. He laughs as your soft lips close around the digits obediently and suck on them without a second thought.

“Aw, my sweet baby. Poor thing. So fucked out. There’s no fight left in you anymore, is there baby girl? No, there isn’t,” he croons.

You whimper in defiance but keep sucking regardless. He smirks and decides to tease while still working his hips against you over and over. He slides his fingers back out of your mouth and rests them on your chin, making you feel them so close to your mouth, covered in your spit, but just out of your reach.

“Stop,” you whimper, “Just give ‘em.”

“That’s not how good girls ask for what they want, is it? You know better than that,” he whispers.

Your fists tighten around the blankets below you and you squirm a little. “You’re so mean to me,” you complain before a desperate whimper bubbles from your mouth again.

“Oh, I know. Daddy’s so mean, isn’t he? So mean to you,” he mocks.

You whine again in a mix of pleasure from his cock buried inside you and annoyance as he continues teasing. You begin to speak, but as you do, he shoves his fingers back into the warm, wet embrace of your mouth.

“Hush, stop complaining,” he says and continues thrusting, his body sliding on yours with the motions, “You’re getting exactly what you want.”

Your eyes roll back, and your response slips back down your throat. You suckle on his fingers again, some more saliva dripping from your lips as he pushes them flat on your tongue. Low moans emanate from you around his fingers. The cocky look is permanently displayed on his face now.

“‘Daddy I wanna wrestle!’” he mocks you with a chuckle, “No no no, all my sweet girl wants is for me to pin her down and stuff her full of my cock till she’s just a little mess for me. Drooling with no thoughts in that cute little head. Those pretty eyes, totally empty, just locked on Daddy. My needy baby.”

You just nod at this point, giving up on any form of difficulty or resistance. Your eyes begin to water as his fingers probe deeper into your mouth. Thinking becomes more of an abstract concept as he hammers into you, driving you closer to the finish line. Muffled expletives and calls of “Daddy” sound around his fingers.

He was feeling the rush too as he got closer to his own high. His arm that was still around your neck tightens its hold on you. His head is right next to yours. You hear his breath in your ear becoming more ragged as his thrusts grow more erratic.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he grunts, “Perfect pussy’s gonna make me cum.”

“Uh huh,” is all you’re able to mutter with your mouth full.

He nuzzles his face into your hair and removes his fingers from your mouth to just hold onto you as he fucks into you with increased focus. He plants light kisses on the side of your head while low moans rise out of him. His hips sputter as the coils of release contract within him.

“Are you ready for it, sweet girl?” he groans, “Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like. All for you, pretty baby.”

“Mhm, thank you Daddy,” you whimper, leaning your head into his as your body spasms with the imminence of your release.

“My good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts before sharply exhaling and moaning against your shoulder.

His hips rock against yours as you both reach your peaks. Your body convulses beneath him as you cum, euphoria flowing through your body in waves. Choked moans come from you while he growls against your skin. He continues his deep strokes, flooding you with his hot, thick cum. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the craving inside you satiated.

Leon stays inside you for a few moments longer as you both come down from the high. His chest puffs out against your back as he catches his breath. Soon enough though, he rolls off of you. The air feels cool against your back now that he’s finally off of you.

You take a moment to catch your breath yourself and look over at him. He brushes some hair out of his face and stretches a little. You crawl over to him and curl up against his side, nuzzling into his chest. He strokes your hair and gives you a soft kiss. His thumb runs across your jaw as he looks into your eyes lovingly.

“Satisfied, sweetheart?” he asks with his cocky smile.

“Mhm,” you hum and snuggle against his chest, lying how you were before this had begun. You adjust the position of your head to get comfy with a cute smile on your face. “You didn’t really win though.”

“Oh, is that so?” he asks. He tilts your face up and guides you to look up at him.

“Well, in real wrestling you have to pin the person on their back. Their shoulders have to be down, y’know?” you say.

“That is true,” he says and rolls on top of you, looking at you with a loving smirk, “So I guess you’re ready for round two?”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

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leonsmamacita · 5 months

Text

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

1K notes · View notes

leonsmamacita · 5 months

Text

Baby Blue

Leon Kennedy x reader

Summary: Leon comes home to his princess, but she needs to be punished. Good princesses don’t deserve to be fucked, so daddy must fuck her ass instead.

Tags: DDLG, smut, daddy kink, breeding kink, reader is a little, funishment not punishment, anal, squirting, pussy neglect, true princesses name their plushies, I’m sorry this is feral

Word Count: 2.6k

Ao3 cross post

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Leon’s drive home was filled with overwhelming thoughts of you. He was able to get out of the office early, and all he could think about was rushing home to you. To his princess. He found a sense of stability in being your daddy and being able to protect you. When he couldn’t manage to protect everyone, he knew he would always protect you. It helped ground him and give him a very controlled responsibility, and you loved it just the same. You loved letting yourself be nurtured. With such glossy, round eyes as yours he really couldn’t let anybody else have you. You were gorgeous and you could only be his.

When he got home, Leon found you in the living room curled on the couch. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into him when you rushed forward to meet him. Leon could feel the swell of your breasts and your hands squished against his chest as he looked down at you. There were your big round puppy eyes again, looking up at him, begging. Begging for what? Noticing the gentle way you squished your thighs together gave him a pretty good answer as to what you were begging so quietly for.

“I’m home princess,” Leon pressed several kisses all over your face, stopping at your forehead. “Is there something my princess needs?”

“Daddy’s attention! I missed you!”

You were a needy girl, needless to say. You tried to feign innocence when you clearly knew how to push Leon. Pressing your tits against him when you grabbed his arm, or “readjusting” constantly when sitting on his lap. From choosing a revealing top or a fitted dress, the constant teasing never ended. Even through the frills and bows adorning you, you always looked at him the exact same way. With round puppy eyes begging to be taken. It’s the part you enjoyed the most, honestly. Feigning innocence just for Leon to corrupt you bit by bit. To take his princess and watch her tear-covered cheeks as she takes his cock into her throat. To teach her what it means to be pleasured. It’s not like you didn’t know, but you loved to play the part. It was natural. To be his little princess who couldn’t possibly be dirty enough to think about wanting sex.

Leon kissed your forehead again. “What did you do today, princess?”

You bit your lip, tasting the strawberry gloss you had applied earlier. “Mm, I got home from work and, and I took a nap with Capt’n.” Captain was the shark plushie that you adored. Captain could always protect you while Leon was gone. “I also colored for daddy.”

“Good girl, show me what you colored for daddy.” Leon watched as you grabbed the coloring pages you had left on the living room table. They were pages of Sanrio characters, specifically Cinnamoroll.

“Remember Cinnamoroll, daddy?” You began to chat away, talking about all sorts of fun facts of the dog.

“Yeah, princess?” Leon listened and refilled your sippy cup with apple juice.

The ddlg lifestyle was quickly adopted once the both of you had opened up about it. It was a bit obvious in hindsight through the nurturing role Leon chose to take, and how little you were sometimes. Frills and bows seemed to follow you everywhere, glitter pens were always around, and baby blue was your signature color. The lifestyle also caught up in small actions. Not only did Leon open the car door for you, but he also took the time to buckle you in. Feeling his large presence reach around you to buckle you in made your feel all sorts of safe. Kisses on the forehead were endless, tying your shoes was a given, and nicknames too. Pacifiers became the norm, and you used sippy cups instead of “grown” cups. The plushie population was duplicating in size and needed a net to be kept in the top corner of the room. Smaller snacks like animal crackers, cookies, or gummies were carried with you everywhere, and Leon loved to steal them from you too. You let yourself indulge in cute accessories day to day. Keychains, stickers, glitter pens, cute notebooks, hair bows, the list continued. But your favorite part of it all were Daddy’s rules. In a sheet on the fridge you had written them out with numerous glitter pens and highlighter colors.

୨୧ Bedtime of 11pm.

୨୧ No swearing as a little.

୨୧ Always obey daddy.

୨୧ Use your manners.

୨୧ Compliment yourself every morning.

“Princess it’s getting late, we’ve got to get you to bed,” Leon reminded you, handing you your apple juice. “We need to clean up your mess,” he gestured at the crayons and snacks around your coloring book on the table.

You pouted, grabbing the sippy cup Leon was handing to you. “Can’t we leave it to tomorrow, daddy?”

“No buts, princess. We can’t leave a mess,” Leon kissed your forehead again, patiently waiting to help you pick up your coloring materials.

You looked him in the eye, “No.”

“What was that?” Leon grabbed your chin. He didn’t like when his princess disobeyed, but he smiled knowing you would have to be punished.

“I said no.”

“My my, such big words for my little girl. That just won’t do. Disobeying daddy means punishment, princess. Pick up your mess. Now.” Leon said firmly.

Your plan failed. He didn’t bite the bait. Or so you thought. Leon was considering all the “punishments” he could do to you as he watched you from the doorway. This was a major offense; disobeying daddy without a good reason. It was a critical rule. He watched as you groaned and put your crayons and coloring book away into their designated spot. You grabbed Captain off of the couch and trailed behind Leon into the bedroom. He kept his hand on the small of your back as the both of you stepped in, the covers a little out of place from the nap you had taken earlier.

You chatted away as Leon chose the pajamas you would wear to bed, and helped take your makeup off.

“Your eyeliner is really good today, princess,” Leon noticed as he gently wiped it away.

You beamed under him, allowing him to wipe your face clean. He kept noticing the way you squirmed and squeezed your thighs together. You were more restless than normal.

“What do you need, princess?”

You stopped squirming and looked up at Leon. To be honest, you wanted to be fucked. But you didn’t want to be so blunt. You tried to give all the signals, truly! But he wasn’t getting it.

“You.” You looked at him with your doe eyes again. Can’t he take the hint?

“Princesses don’t get rewards for disobeying,” Leon chided, but his own body was fighting against him. The bulge in his pants was getting harder to hide, but he wasn’t to blame. You really were so soft under him, your body pliant to his tight grip. He wanted to kiss you and eat you whole, glitter and all. His hands trailed down to your ass and squeezed, but he noticed a certain bump. You had a butt plug in. My my, does this change plans.

“Bad princesses don’t deserve to be fucked.” Leon continued, squeezing your ass again. You moaned quietly, clinging onto Leon’s chest as he played with you. The disappointment finally settled in. No matter how much you teased, he really wouldn’t fuck you tonight for disobeying.

“Since bad princesses don’t deserve to be fucked, I guess I’ll just have to fuck your ass.” Leon said before he pulled your shorts down to squeeze your ass again, his hands trailing to the butt plug you had in.

You gasped at the sudden motion, but smiled so big at him, “Really daddy?”

He kissed you softly as he played with your butt plug. Thrusting it in and out slowly, working you open with the lube you had previously. Your knees were going weak at the pleasure and you threw your hands around Leon’s neck to stay upright.

“I’ve got you princess,” Leon cooed as he felt your hole relax around the plug. He continued to work your open, feeling you thrust back onto the plug. You let your head fell into Leon’s shoulder, feeling him pepper kisses on your head as he stared at your round ass below.

“Such a pretty princess,” Leon cooed again. The strain of his bulge against his pants reminded him of his own need, but he had to make sure you were well prepared first.

A few kisses later and you were on the bed, pajamas thrown to the side. Leon’s body loomed over you, hand on your hip and the other supporting him on the bed. It didn’t take long for your kisses to turn more desperate and heated, your own teeth nibbling against Leon’s bottom lip.

“Daddy,” you whined, throwing your arms around his neck again.

Leon shushed you with more kisses and gently pushed your back onto the bed. Once he pulled away, he took the time to really take you in. Staring up at him with doe eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. You were the finest painting he has ever seen. Your hair was splayed out like a halo onto the bed, and he decided he needed to have you at that moment. He reached forward and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift move. He made sure to grab Captain and gave him to you so you had something to hug while he fucked you.

Gentle fingers trailed down your spine, slowly taking in the curve of your ass. He spread your cheeks to see your little pink hole, stuffed with the plug and leaking with lube. He slowly pulled it out not without noticing the way your hole twitched at its absence. You turned your head to look back at him, his gaze fixed on your body. Leon’s hair covered half of his face, but the deep groan he let out was a clear sign on how he was feeling. He needed to stuff you. Needed to feel you take him whole and cry out for him. Daddy needed to take care of his princess.

“Are you ready for your punishment, princess?” Leon kneaded your ass all while his gaze remained transfixed on your hole. The urge was clawing him from the inside out. He was going to stuff you.

His briskly took his clothes off to finally have his leaking tip pushing at the tight bundle of nerves. You waited with baited breath as he slid his cock between your cheeks, teasing you.

“I want you inside, daddy,” you whispered, staring at him with your begging puppy eyes again. Fuck. You were going to be the death of him.

He finally pushed his cock inside, taking in the sensation as he filled you to the brim. Your breath quickened and you let out a deep moan at being stretched and full. You felt whole. Leon watched you stuff your face into Captain, watched the rise and fall of your back, as he stayed still inside. Rubbing small circles onto your back to help you relax. The urge to fuck into you like an animal was bubbling just under the surface, but he withheld. He had to take care of his princess. He needed you to feel comforted, safe, and pleased.

It didn’t take long before he finally felt your body relax around him and he began to slowly thrust. His pace was so slow, but it was so overwhelming you wanted to cry. You loved the way Daddy stretched you so full it was tipping on the edge of pain, and you wanted more. Leon moved so slowly and gently, working you open with his cock. He watched the way your body trembled under his touch, giving into his ministrations. You molded around his cock perfectly as if you were made for him. Made to be stuffed by daddy’s cock.

“Daddy,” you whined into Captain.

Fuck. Calling him daddy like that did something to him.

“I know baby, I know. Let daddy take care of you.” Leon continued his slow pace. Your mind went blank at the sensation, squeezing your eyes shut from the pleasure. It was too much. If he fucked into you any faster you were sure you would break. But he didn’t, he held himself back knowing you were struggling to take him. So he was slow, grinding into your heat, feeling the lube leak onto your thighs.

A few thrusts later and the begging began. You wanted more —no, needed more. And Leon was right behind you. Baby. His baby. Stuff his little girl until she was full. He couldn’t stop looking at how your small hole took him so nicely, seeing you take the sheer size of him. He pressed his body lower and kissed the junction of your shoulder before he finally quickened his pace.

You cried from pleasure, clinging onto Captain as you felt Leon’s balls slap against your weeping cunt’s entrance. It felt neglected while your ass was being fucked into instead. It was so lewd listening to the wetness of your asshole being fucked, squelching around Leon’s cock.

You were doing such a good job, squeezing around Leon relentlessly and taking him whole. He groaned at the sensation, his orgasm creeping up behind him so soon. It was like his body was moving on its own by caving into the need of fucking into you; feeling your hot walls squeeze around him. It felt so good you couldn’t imagine stopping. His cock working you open, only for him to pull out and watch you gape around his absence.

“What a filthy little princess. Needing her ass fucked for being a bad, bad girl.” Leon watched with bated breath as your asshole twitched around nothing, his cock aching to stuff you again.

“Daddy,” you cried, aching to be filled again. You shook your ass, trying to get him to fuck into you again. “Please fuck me!”

You cried as he finally pushed his fat tip past the tight bundle of nerves, groaning as he bottomed out inside of you. He really was going to rearrange your guts.

It felt so shameful to like having your asshole fucked instead of your cunt. It was dripping wet, begging to be fucked into instead of your ass, but this was your punishment. Only good girls deserve to have their cunt used, and tonight he was going to breed your ass and watch the cum drip down onto your cunt instead.

So he continued to fuck into you, your cries only pushing him to fuck into you longer.

“Poor baby, you want your cunt fucked into don’t you?”

You cried into Captain, the pleasure overwhelming. Your body started to twitch and you felt the sudden wetness gush between your thighs. Leon held onto you as your squirt continued to gush with every thrust. Too much. Too much, you can’t. You lay beneath him, trembling and crying. Babbling about how you couldn’t stop, can’t imagine stopping, you needed more. Leon listened, feeling you squeeze around him was finally pushing him over the edge.

“I’m gonna stuff you so full baby, can you take it? Take daddy’s cock? Yeah?” Leon groaned as he gripped your hips, snapping his own flush against yours. Yeah, he was going to stuff you.

His own orgasm chased after yours, finally filling you. You trembled at the sensation of Leon finally pulling away only to watch his cum dribble down onto your weeping cunt. It didn’t take him long to notice the puddle of squirt you had made on the bed too. What a sight, his princess had taken him so well.

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