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cloudsmateria · 21 days

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reposting again

Summary: New to town, stuck late and caught in the rain to boot; your night couldn't possibly get any worse. At least that's what you thought until on your way home you're pulled over by a certain blonde haired blue eyed cop. Pairing: RE2R CorruptCop!Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, Dubcon, Abuse of Power, Semi-public sex, Finger Sucking, Sex Toy, Temperature Play, Unprotected Sex, Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Toxic Dynamics, no use of y/n

Title from the Deftones Song - Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)

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The rain was pouring down, pattering against the cement of the parking lot as wind blew the smell of dew and crisp air across your face. It was late, later than you had wanted to stay at work, but things kept piling up and before you knew it, the sun had come down and your coworkers had all left you alone.

Yellow light flickered off of the closest street lamp, the only other source of illumination was your phone’s screen lit up. You tapped against the glass in frustration, a cold shiver running down your spine. “Come on, come on!” The signal symbol in the top corner of the screen kept flashing, leaving you unable to make any call or access the internet. All you had wanted to do was pull up maps again, being new to town you hadn’t familiarized yourself with the roads – the weather was so bad that you didn’t want to test it either.

The windbreaker you had on was doing little to help the chill in your bones now that the rain had begun blowing sideways, soaking you even under the awning that covered the entrance. Now soaked, freezing, and not wanting to wait any longer, you made the decision to book it to your car. Relishing in the heat you relaxed back against the fabric of the seat, slipping the soaked jacket off along with your damp shirt. Luckily the tanktop beneath was mostly spared of the icy rain water.

Giving it one more shot, you looked at your phone, still no signal. A sigh escaped you as the wipers turned on helping to remove the frosty fog from the windshield, tossing the useless device on the passenger seat.

When the windows were finally defrosted enough for you to mostly be able to see ahead of the car, you backed out of the spot and took off down the road. “Ok, I got this. I make a right here by the giant oak tree.”

The dark road ahead of you felt familiar to the one you took home during the day, but without much peripheral vision it was hard to tell. Soon the open road became dark with nothing but your headlights as the last streetlamp passed you by, an uneasiness taking over you. “This isn’t right.” Walls of trees surrounded you on both sides of the road, only visible when passing cars illuminated them for you. Not sure what to do, and nervous as hell, you kept trekking forward, hoping to at least find a major highway or something that looked familiar.

It wasn’t long until red and blue lit up the inside of your car from behind. “A cop? Shit.” With the back window frosted over you hadn’t seen him pull onto the road, and with the darkness surrounding you, it was difficult to tell where you could even pull over safely. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. The anxiety that coursed through your veins was already bad enough as it was, but once you hadn’t pulled over quick enough, the sound of the sirens blaring through your eardrums caused you to nearly jump out of your skin. Immediately, you slammed the breaks, causing the car to squeal before coming to a complete stop.

Not more than a few moments go by before you hear the sound of boots thudding against the ground getting closer. Taking the initiative, you roll down the window, letting the cutting winter air slap you in the face once again while you gripped your ID tightly, waiting for the officer.

Blinding light encompassed your vision, causing your hand to go up instinctively to shield your eyes as they adjusted.

“Good evening, Miss.” His voice sounded young, and you could hear the smacking of gum being chewed loudly between his words.

“Good evening officer… Kennedy” You gave a weak smile, eyes reading his name tag before finally settling on his face. He was young. Piercing blue eyes almost glowed with the illumination of the metal flashlight in his hand. Plush lips upturned into a friendly smile, coupled with soft features. Soft blonde hair framed his face accentuating his cheek bones and dimpled chin. He wasn’t just young, he was cute – handsome. If this were a different time and place you would’ve actually considered hitting on the guy.

“Wanna tell me why you didn’t pull over when you first saw the lights?”

“I wasn’t sure where a safe spot to pull over was. I hoped maybe a little up the way would be a place with more light.”

“Uh huh…” He said, eyeing you over, the tone in his voice clearly indicating suspicion. “Do you know why I pulled you over this evening, ma’am?”

“Uhh no honestly, I can’t say I do.” An awkward smile tugged at your features, nerves bubbling in the pit of your stomach. The only relief coming from the hope that this fresh faced, doe-eyed cop would go easy on you. He seemed friendly, and if his age was any indicator he likely hadn’t been a cop long, perhaps that could score you some bonus points.

A thick blonde brow raised as he spoke. “You were going pretty fast. Speed limit in most parts of Arklay County is 35 if you’re not in the city. I had you going nearly 60.”

“Arklay? Oh shit –” The realization you had gone in the complete opposite direction from where you were supposed to have been headed struck you like a tonne of bricks. “I’m so sorry officer, I’m not from around here.”

“Well normally I’d understand that, but there’s signage posted all down this strip of road.”

“Oh. Well, you know it’s late and rainy with my windows fogged up it’s been a little hard to see, especially where there’s no street lights.”

He leaned back from where he hunched over your window, looking at the car. “Your entire rearview is frosted along with more that ⅓ of the viewing radius on your windshield. It’s not safe to drive like that, especially speeding in the dark.”

Your eyebrow twitched with annoyance, the sound of the gum in his mouth beginning to grate on your nerves as well. The last thing you wanted was a lecture – tired, cold, and away from home you wanted this encounter to be over. The hope of him going easy on you seemed to dwindle with each word out of his mouth.

“I know, my car's kind of a junker. I’ve been meaning to get the back wiper fixed. I just haven’t been able to yet. I’ll do it soon I swear.” He didn’t say anything, taking in your words. You took the opportunity to continue. “Look, is there any way you can let me off with a warning? I’ve been having a really bad night. I just started a new job in the county over. I got stuck late in the rain at said job, and now I’m lost trying to get back home.” Batting your eyelashes you gave him the best kicked puppy look you could muster hoping to inspire some sympathy from your tale.

His features steeled into a neutrally unamused expression. “License and registration.” He said flatly.

“You can’t be serious!” You exclaimed, slapping the steering wheel in frustration. “Come on, I’m begging you, sir.”

Officer Kennedy didn’t respond, instead he moved to clip the flashlight to a loop on his shoulder to keep it in place as he pulled his notebook out, penciling down on the yellowed pages before finally speaking again. “Speeding. Not adhering to street postings. Reckless driving in an unsafe vehicle, and refusal to provide documentation to an officer of the law.”“Huh?” You were gobsmacked by his words. “What are you –”

“Miss, I'm going to need you to step out of the car.”

“Wait, wait no I have my license right here. I wasn’t refusing, I was–”

“Please don’t make me ask again. Step out of the vehicle, hands on your head.”

The nerve of this guy! Unbuckling your seatbelt you exited the car as quickly as possible, putting your hands atop your head like you were told.

“Are there any drugs or weapons in the car or on your person I should be made aware of?”

“No, of course not! Please, this is all a misunderstanding.” His gloved hand grasped at you, turning you to face your car again. With both hands he patted you down gently, the cold air causing goosebumps to form on your skin now. If the night hadn’t already been going bad as it was, this was the worst.

No reply again, just the same sound of that damned gum gnashing between his teeth and the smell of his spicy cologne wafting into your nose. He brought his hand up to your right arm, gently pulling it down behind your back, before mimicking the other.

The jingle of metal on metal made your heart stop. “Y-you’re not arresting me are you? You can’t do that, you haven’t even read me my rights.” It took everything you had to will any oncoming tears away.

He replied by clasping the metal around your wrists before clamping them shut. The weight of the situation made you feel like you were shackled to the earth where you stood. Hands trembling behind you, as his hot breath ghosted over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “I haven’t read you the rights because I’m not arresting you. Just making sure you and I are both safe while I check things out.

“Check what things out?”

“You know, you ask a lot of questions. Maybe if you listened more you wouldn’t be where you’re standing right now.” His hands slid down your sides again, this time stopping on your butt cheeks, patting them down lightly before feeling the warm leather splayed against your inner thigh lingering a tad longer than what was appropriate. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you tensed up, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“What’s the matter?” Despite not seeing his face, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“You aren’t hiding something, are you?”

“No! What the hell?”

“You sure? Then why are you so tense, if you have nothing to hide?” He dragged his hands up your side again, applying more pressure before sneaking his hands around your torso, palms against your chest giving a little squeeze. You jolted against the car, gasping.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You shouted pushing yourself back against him, your voice while intended to sound angry came out a wavering whine.

“What was that?”

“I said, get off of me you pig!”

“Mouthy, mouthy. You really don’t want me looking here, do you?” To emphasize his point, he squeezed your chest again, rubbing your pebbling nipples through your thin bra with his thumbs.

“Fucking creep!” You spat struggling against him.

“That’s not very nice.” He whispers into your ear. “Know what I think? I think you are hiding something and you don’t want me to find out.” He pulled you back against him, far enough from the car that he could grab your tanktop from the center, yanking it down, roughly stretching the fabric of the spaghetti straps before they finally snapped against your shoulders, stinging as the shirt was yanked to your stomach.

His fingers made their way to the front clasp of your bra, deftly jerking the hook to come undone, breasts bouncing out as your nipples pebbled in the cold air almost painfully. A whine echoed from your mouth as he spun you around, roughly pushing your back into the frigid metal of your car.

“Hmmm. Nothing here.” He said, sky blue orbs moving from your face to observe your cold-perked breasts. He watched you shiver with that sickeningly sweet smile plastered to his boyish face. “Poor thing, it’s pretty cold out isn’t it? Those little buds look so hard they could cut glass.”

“Fuck you!”

“You know what they say, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Why don’t you try behaving for a minute and see where it gets you.” As if displaying his point, he brings his large hands back to your breasts, kneading them in his palms a few times before soothing his thumbs over your nipples again. The feeling makes you tingle, the warmth more pleasurable than you’d ever want to admit. “See, that’s better isn’t it? Just be compliant for me and this will all be over faster.”

Anger swirled in the pit of your stomach, wanting nothing more than to knock that smile off his stupid-pretty face. You couldn’t believe only 10 minutes prior you had actually thought he was handsome, a nice cop who’d understand your plight and let you go.

Hyper aware of how stuck you were, your brows knitted together in frustration, a few tears finally spilled out of your eyes burning hot against your cheek. He swiped them away, a gesture that would have been sweet if it was coming from anyone besides this power-abusing creep. “No need for tears. We’re just doing a standard inspection. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to be afraid of, right sweetheart?”

The pet name made you sick, and you couldn’t contain the venom on the tip of your tongue.”Fuck you asshole!” You shouted jerking away from him again.

His smile faded almost instantly to an unamused look. “Resisting an Officer too? You really are up to no good tonight.” He said, grabbing you roughly by the arm, pulling you away from your own vehicle and tugging you towards his cruiser. He’d switched the flashlight off leaving you mostly in the dark as he trudged you along. Fear made you attempt to dig your heels, but his grip was like a vice and as he yanked, you were forced to tumble forwards with him until he shoved you face first into the back seat, your bottom half hanging out off the black faux-leather.

The inside of the car was toasty warming you up almost instantly, but your legs shivered desperately against the freezing air swirling outside. “Stay still.” He commanded, as you felt two fingers make their way into the waistband of your pants before he unceremoniously yanked them down to your ankles.

“What are you –”

“Finishing my inspection.” He replied, brushing his hands up your thighs, this time applying more pressure directly to your skin, making his way closer and closer to your panties. A firm slap was landed on your ass hurting so much it made you yelp. “That was for that bratty attitude.” Soothing the sore spot with gentle rubs from one hand, he brought the other between your legs gently rubbing against your clothed slit, stopping to nudge at your clit through the fabric.

Your eyes went wide as saucers, mouth agape. You hated that your body reacted to the feeling, a moan making it’s way out of your mouth, feeling the arousal building up at your center.

“Don’t feel anything yet, but you can never be too sure.” He pulled his hand away, your body instinctively bucking back a little without any input from your brain. Your underwear received the same treatment as your pants, but not before he snapped the elastic of your waistband, making you whimper at the sting.

You felt the starched fabric of his uniform pants brush harshly against your inner thigh before he used it to pull your legs as far apart as they would go while still restricted at the ankles by your clothing. Something cold and smooth was dragged up your leg, making you squirm in place uncomfortably. It was different to the texture of his gloves, you couldn’t tell if it was plastic or metal. The object made it’s way to your slicked up folds, running through them gently.

“Gahh!” You squealed trying to wiggle forward away from the icy feeling.You couldn’t go any farther, stopped by the grating that separated the seat you were in from the other side.

“None of that.” He said, moving his arm forward, dragging whatever it was against you again. The sheer temperature was uncomfortable, but when he circled it against your clit, the torturous mix of discomfort and pleasure made you shudder involuntarily. More slick leaked out onto the seats.

Coating its base into your wetness, he prodded your hole gently. Craning your neck to the point of pain, you looked behind you as best you could to see what was happening, the night stick gripped firmly in his hand. Your brain screamed at you to be scared, while your body betrayed you, clamping down over the cool tip of the thin object. “S’too cold!” You pleaded, voice a pathetic whine. He ignored you at first, moving it inside of you slowly, shallowly. It was enough to have your pussy aching, but not enough to hit that one spot that would have you seeing stars. It was a teasing sensation you’d never experienced before.

“Too cold? Can’t be that bad, not with the mess you’re making all over my backseat.” He twisted the baton this time sinking it in farther enough to bump against that special bundle of nerves making you keen. “You really have no sense of self preservation, do you baby? Needy pussy will slop all over anything it’s given, won’t it? At least I know you’re not hiding anything now.”

You hadn’t the capacity to refute him or spout an insult back his way, though you wanted to, badly .

He set the night stick down between your legs, not pulling it out of you. You heard the sound of rustling fabric until some warm teased against the skin of your leg. The night stick was lifted gently again, back to its painfully slow rhythm of thrusting just outside the reach of where you wanted it. Quickly you realized he’d removed his gloves, his hands so warm from being inside them his fingers nearly burned against your numbed skin. He used the middle and pointer finger of his left hand to rub agonizingly slow circles around your clit, as he worked the baton into your hole again.

Both sensations felt good, but just so… not enough . Trapped in the backseat of his car against your will, arms stinging from being stuck behind you, face pressed against the seat knowing the pattern would be smooshed into your skin by the time you were ever allowed to move again. You hated how the handsome asshole of a cop was working you up so much with his vile mocking and teasing movements. But most of all, you hated how much you wanted more . More pressure. More heat. More speed. Just more of whatever you could get.

You weren’t sure how far he was going to go with this, but not wanting to give in, you attempted to focus on everything that wasn’t him. The smell of the pine air freshener blowing throughout the car, the sound of that stupid fucking gum still going between his teeth – you even tried to close your eyes and imagine you were somewhere else. None of it worked as you were left trying to grind back against him, desperate to alleviate the tension between your thighs and desperate to get out of there. Soft whimpers echoing throughout the confines of the vehicle.

“Poor thing, you just look so miserable. You want something don’t you?” He cooed the question out, picking up the pace of the fingers on your clit, finally using them to apply pressure as he rubbed it directly. Your whole body strained against the confines you were in, tensing with pleasure, mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape. Being teased for so long, you were just on the cusp of an orgasm as he finally gave you some sweet satisfaction – before you could feel that sensation of relief he pulled his hands away stopping entirely.

“Wha-?” The disappointment in your voice despite the lack of an entire sentence was obvious.

“Ask me nicely, maybe I’ll give you a reward for being good. After all, you passed my inspection with flying colors.” He resumed what he was doing again, back to the terribly slow movements that never gave you enough satisfaction to tip you over the edge.

You refused to give in, to beg, to admit out loud that you wanted anything from him. Doing your best, you tried scoffing, voice shakily creaking from your throat. “I-I don’t want anything from you. Except to let me go!” The malice and bite you wished coated your words wasn’t there.

He laughed in response, flicking your clit lightly. “Liar. That stubborn little mouth of yours might not want to admit it, but your pretty little pussy is giving everything away.” Leaning forward he pressed a kiss to your shoulder trailing the kisses up your neck before flicking his tongue against the shell of your ear. He managed to extract another pathetic whine as he blew on the spot he licked, sending a shiver right down your spine. While he’d pulled the night stick out to use that arm to support himself over you, his remaining hand was still tucked between your legs, sloppily playing with you. Against your thigh, through his pants you could feel his hardness pressing into you. “Come on baby, you don’t need to keep up the act anymore. We both know this was your goal from the start, wasn’t it?” He sucked a bruise into the skin of your neck before placing another kiss between your shoulder blades, the way he was pressed onto you forced your arms to tense in a way that hurt. “I saw it all over your face the moment your window rolled down. Batting those pretty lashes at me, probably thought you could flirt your way out of trouble.”

“N-not true…” You squeaked out.

He sat up, pulling his hand away from you. Metal on metal and the sound of the zipper behind you told you he was freeing his erection from its confines. He let out a relieved hiss before he was back over you this time you felt his soft lips against your leg, kissing the back of your knee before trailing his tongue up your leg, the cool air drying the strip of saliva as he went before placing a kiss to your buttcheek where his hand had left a raised red mark. “No? Then why are you sobbing between the legs for me?”

He moved forward nestling the head of his weeping cock against your slit, rubbing it against your clit gently before swiping it up to your hole. He didn’t enter though, merely rubbing it around before dragging it back down – your pussy clenched around nothing in anticipation of the pleasure that wouldn’t come. “Mmm, so hot and wet.” He moaned, stroking himself as he rubbed the swollen tip against you.

A noise caught in your throat as he did it again, teasing your hole again. Frustrated tears reformed in your eyes, body hot, bothered, and screaming at you for relief. The last shell of pride you had cracked at the tantalizing idea of his thick cock stretching you open.

“P-please…” You finally choked out, quietly.

“What’s that?”

“P-please….” You repeated again, louder this time.

“Still too quiet –”

“PLEASE!” You nearly shouted this time.

“Hmm, please what? Gotta use your words, I’m not a mind reader.”

His teasing now had you more frustrated than the initial traffic stop, you were ready to sob if you had to go one more second without relief. “Please, please fuck me. Want you inside me, please.” You begged bucking your lower half up against him, hoping it would entice him to give in.

Expecting more teasing on his end you were pleasantly surprised when you felt him slip inside of you, not bothering to go slowly, slamming himself from tip to balls into your tight heat. “O-Oh.” You moaned as he pulled out, slamming back inside. Your eyes nearly rolled back as he set a fast rhythm, pounding against your sweet spot over and over again, finally giving your cunt something to clench around properly.“Oh god…fuck…” You spewed more incoherent words as you drooled against the seat. “So…fucking good.” Pleasure washed over your brain, stopping any coherent thoughts from processing.

“Look at you, dumb on my cock already and I’ve barely started fucking you. You, that desperate?” He reached over, swiping some drool from your cheek, flicking it away with his thumb. “Messy little slut, can’t help but leak from both ends, huh?”

“N-nuh uh.” You tried to protest, tongue almost falling out of your mouth as he angled his hips just right. Giving up on any further attempts of saving your ego, you attempted to speak again, wanting to feel something against your lips. Another incoherent noise came out instead.

He leaned in, slowing his hip movements. “What was that?”

“K-kiss.” You managed to get the word out. “Please.”

“Awww, not romantic enough for you sweetheart? Need some kisses too?”

You nodded, bottom lip quivering. He turned, spitting the gum outside the car before leaning forward again to connect your lips. It was rough at first, him biting your bottom lip before entangling your tongues together. You whimpered into his mouth, tasting the remnants of mint on him. He pulled away a trail of saliva connecting you before he placed a few sweeter pecks against your lips.

“Are your arms sore?” He asked running a hand over one of them as he sat back up.

“Mhm.”

“Can I trust you to be good if I take the cuffs off?”

“P-promise.”

There was stillness for a moment as there was the jangling of keys behind you. Soon your wrists were freed from the cuffs that hit the car floor, clanging together gently. You let out a relieved groan, letting one arm flop to your side as the other dangled onto the floor, shoulders stiff and sore.

The blonde kneaded his hands against your shoulder a few times to relieve the visible tension. He let you flop against the seat as he resumed his rhythm of fucking into your tight heat, leaving you babbling and whining loudly, enjoying the sensation of being split open on him.

“Perfect little pussy, just sucks me right in.” He pulled you back this time, so your ass was at a higher angle making it easier for him to slip in and out of your wet heat.

Close. You were so close to finally being tipped over the edge. White hot pleasure pricked at your vision, core aching deliciously. Almost to your peak when his voice tore through that bringing you back into the moment. “Hear that? Sounds like a car coming. Better quiet down baby, or they might come investigate. Wouldn’t wanna let them see what a little whore you are.” Despite his words he didn’t slow his pace, in fact he landed another slap against your unmarked ass cheek. “Or, maybe that’s exactly what you want, since you’re still crying like a desperate little bitch in heat. Want them to come over here and see you get fucked? Tell them what a bad girl you are, getting pulled over and getting fucked in the back of a cop car?”

“N-no….” You looked at him eyes wide. “P-please… don’t want – please.” With him pistoning into you, you couldn’t stop the noises that flew out. “P-please…oh god…” Time was running out as the headlights of the oncoming vehicle began to light up.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll help you out.” He leaned forward pressing two fingers into your mouth, greedily you pulled them in lapping over them with your tongue before sucking on them like a lifeline.

“Good girl.” He praised quietly into your ear. “Good fucking girl.” His own quiet grunts were becoming labored, his hip movements becoming sloppy, indicating his release was close. You turned your body so you were laying on your side more, grasping at his wrist holding his hand in place, nearly gagging on the digits.

The yellow hued light from the stream of passing cars lit up the inside of the cruiser giving you a view of the man’s face once again. His own eyes heavy with pleasure, black pupils dilated as he slowed his pace once last time to watch you suckle on his fingers as the last of the cars passed by, darkness encompassing the vehicle again before your eyes readjusted to the dimly lit roof light.

He pulled his fingers free, and brought the saliva coated hand down to rub against your clit as he picked up the pace fucking you again. He didn’t waste time taunting you, nor did he slow down, letting you fully bask in the hot waves of pleasure radiating from your sensitive pearl of nerves.

“G-god…oh god…” Your eyes rolled back as the coil of tension snapped, toes curling as your pussy clamped his cock like a vice. He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm before his hand gripped your hip with a bruising tightness, eye closing at his cock twitched, pulsing hot ropes of cum inside of you. He slowed down, thrusting just enough to ride out his own orgasm enjoying every twitch of your silky walls as he filled you up. Afterwards he braced his hand against the roof of the car to catch his breath and come down from the high of it all.

Once softened, he slowly pulled his cock out, wiping it along your thigh as he did so before tucking it back into his pants and fully standing up outside the car, stretching. “You alright?” He asked when he finally poked his head back in. He didn’t wait for your answer before tugging you towards him again, sliding your body along the seat. Pressing a kiss to the back of your still trembling legs, he hoisted your bottoms and panties back up, any leaking seed being caught by the fabric. “There we go.”

Too exhausted to move or think, you laid there like sentient jello as he readjusted you, slipping into the back seat himself so he could pull you onto his lap. Flopping against his chest, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, as he wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back with one hand.

He let you rest for a while against him in that hazy-twilight state recovering from both the mental and physicality of the ordeal. The sound of the wind whistling outside coupled with the even badump badump of his heartbeat relaxed you. The radio on his chest buzzed, a crackly voice on the other end reading out some police codes you didn’t understand. “10-4, I’ll head back to the station.” He replied. “Hear that? Looks like this stop has come to an end.”

You rubbed at your eyes, sitting up. Honestly you had no words to reply, what could you even say after all of this. The cop reached up, tucking some hair behind your ear. “You said you were lost on the way home?”

“Yeah.”

“Where were you headed?”

“Altoona.”

He nodded. “Go sit in your car for me, I’ll be over in a few.”

Not arguing, you slipped off his lap and out into the dark cold stumbling your way back over to your car, ready for the night to just be over with finally.

A few minutes went by and sure enough Officer Kennedy reappeared at your window, a piece of paper in hand. “Directions.” He said handing it to you. Before you could reply, another paper was thrust into your hands, a ticket at the top. “Have a good night, Miss.” He said, popping another piece of gum into his mouth as he disappeared back to his cruiser.

“No fucking way. After all of that, he’s still giving me a fucking ticket?” You asked out loud, eyeing the ticket paper resisting the urge to rush it in your fist. You were heated all over again, ready to punch something – until it occurred to you he never actually took your license or anything. You reached up and pressed on the ceiling light to get a better look at the ticket. The entire form was blank. “Huh?” Flipping it over in confusion you saw the penciled note. ‘Try to drive more carefully, Sweetheart. Call me if you need a tour. - Leon Kennedy’

Your jaw hung open, shocked by the utter audacity of him after all of that. You knew you should’ve shred that paper up on the spot, or reported him. Instead, for whatever reason that only god knew, you tossed it into your glove compartment before reading over the directions he’d given you. With a turn of the key into the ignition, you pulled out onto the dark road, taking off to make the trip back home.

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cloudsmateria · 22 days

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stop i love these psychoanalysis’s of leon’s character sm

So here's an interesting thing.

This is Saddler's POV when Ashley picks up Leon's gun:

Leon isn't looking at Ashley.

He's looking right at Saddler. And that's the look of a man who's ready to kill.

It's only after the first shot is fired that Leon actually looks at Ashley, and his expression is completely different when he does.

From Ashley's POV:

This might sound weird, but this is probably the best showcase of how fundamentally changed Leon is in RE4make from RE2make. In RE2make, his focus would've been Ashley first. He would've been worried about her and scared for himself. Saddler would be an afterthought; Leon can worry about Saddler after both he and Ashley are safe.

That was probably what Krauser was referring to during training when he told Leon that he was too soft to do what's necessary. You know, before Krauser himself went nuts, and the meaning of that statement became something else entirely.

But in RE4make, Leon's first response is rage. It's violence. It's murder. His instinct isn't to save Ashley or protect himself -- it's to kill Saddler.

It's only after it hits him just how stuck he is -- after that first shot is fired -- that the worry starts -- that the regret and heartache kick in.

What Krauser taught Leon -- what he really taught Leon -- was that protecting someone is more than shielding them from harm or pulling them to safety. It's eliminating the threat around them so that they can be safe. Shields can break, and running protects no one.

So, sure, the "being held against my will" thing is the main reason why Leon turns down Ashley's offer at the end of the game -- but it's not the only reason. It's because Leon came to accept, over the course of this mission, that he's not that guy anymore. He can't stand by and be Ashley's guard. The only way he knows how to protect her is by eliminating the threat around her -- and that's not what security detail does.

But that's who Leon's become now. The ship of "serve and protect" has sailed, for him. In his own words: "You've gotta keep moving forward."

#resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #ashley graham #meta analysis #resident evil #leon scott kennedy

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cloudsmateria · 22 days

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this was so cute 😭😭

Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.”

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

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cloudsmateria · 25 days

Text

what 😭😭😭

Claire: Do men feel their-- Chris: Don't start it. Claire: What? Chris: That is like saying: "Remember to breathe" and now everyone will be manually breathing. So, whatever you were going to ask, don't. Claire:... Chris: Leon: Goddamn it Claire: What? Leon: Now I can't stop feeling my balls and penis in my pants, I'm manually breathing AND I'm seeing my own nose.

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cloudsmateria · 25 days

Text

that one summer in 2003 - leon kennedy x reader

im planning on continuing this, but this is just a short start.

words: 939

basically i was thinking, what if leon kennedy ended up with an avoidant attachment after everything he went through? which is a reasonable conclusion as he never ended up with anyone, and couldn't go for claire because he had an avoidant attachment (or just couldn't get ahold of ada).

it would be perfectly reasonable to suggest that he had an avoidant attachment or for him to have ended up with one after both his parents died due to gang violence and now he works in an incredibly violent job where people he knows and is close to die around him all the time.

AND his fucking ex gf left him (one that he really loved since he was fucking drinking all night because of it and the consequences of that were mad since he had to experience raccoon city which fucked up his whole life). Ada pretended to kill herself in front of him after they started something and for years he thought she died.

he would be scared of whoever he's interested in getting hurt because they're involved with him, or just innately scared of losing them after everyone else. so i just thought it would be cute to write a little prologue about a romance w an avoidant leon kennedy.

i would love to see more fics w an avoidant leon kennedy

Leaning against his shoulder, both at the top of the edge of a cliff, the sun just starting to set. He took another sip of his beer, passing it to you. This was a common weekend since the start of summer, finding some music festival or a nice beach to camp in.

"So, where's the party tonight?" He asked, the breeze pushing back his hair.

"The city. Jill's friend's birthday, and she's rich." You answered.

"Is that the one you want to go to?"

"Not today, I like us like this."

You heard him laugh quietly. "Adorable."

You smiled, leaning your head on his arm, his hands wrapping around you. "I hope this never changes."

He kissed the top of your head. "I'm glad we did this."

"Getting drunk and looking at the ocean?"

"Looking at you… And other things." He whispered into your ear, making you laugh.

"Like what, hmm? Kissing you?"

"A bit more than that."

You had no idea how you ended up with Leon. You had no idea why he chose you. He was so out of your league but in your friend group that you couldn't even have a crush on him because it was certain that it would never work out, but he was an easy friend. Freakishly easy to speak to, although slightly edgy and relatable. Everyone loved him. Even worse, he was attractive and good at everything he did. Any time he was around people were laughing, someone would always choke on their laughter when he was there.

Although you knew you were at least one of his favourite friends, always passively trying to be in your group when it came to group events, although you didn't realise it was because he liked you until you started speaking. The competition between you was palpable, everyone loved watching you both fight at every competitive night out. Rock climbing? Laser tag? Kayaks? Sandcastles? Somehow you both managed to make it competitive. For 4 years you kept that type of friendship until you broke up with your boyfriend at the end of spring.

It was raining that night, walking home from the karaoke bar since this time your houses were in the same direction. He gave you his jacket, although you didn't think twice about it. From there, it was more natural for you both to speak one-on-one and then you made plans without the others... You thought it was friendly, again, why would he pick you? You knew he had a line of girls for him in his other groups. In fact, it took him a week of flirting for you to realise that he was actually trying to be romantic and not trying to make a joke. Swept off your feet in a heartbeat, he came out of nowhere. How stupid.

And after that week, he asked.

"Are you sure about this?"

"About what?"

"Doing this. Us."

"I don't think I've ever liked anyone this much." Instead of what usually would've gotten a laugh, he nodded with what was almost a grimace.

"I need to warn you before this goes anywhere."

"Okay."

"When I get close to people, I get distant. I can't do anything about it. It just happens, I try to stop it, but all I can do is warn you."

"That's fine."

"I don't want to hurt you, especially not you."

"What about me?"

"You're kind, not like the other girls I've met, you don't deserve that."

"Why would you hurt me?"

"I just have a bad feeling."

"I would give you space if you needed it."

"That’s not the problem. But can we do this but not put a label on it? We'll be exclusive, act like a couple, but not a label." In your head, that was a relationship. You were screaming inside, he finally asked.

"Can I ask why?"

"If there weren’t a label, maybe I wouldn’t get distant since it’s not official. Every time I’ve been in a relationship it hasn’t ended well, I’m scared of getting too close and people leaving me."

"I wouldn't do that."

"I know but it's just a gut feeling when I get close to people." He never went into detail but some of his self-deprecating jokes made it clear, at least to you that his life was fucked. You knew he struggled to get too close as even when a conversation about the death of someone close came up when you needed to let it out, he immediately shut it down, changing the subject without making it awkward. He was uncomfortable with all that personal baggage, his own, and everyone else's. You wished you were that socially adept to so casually manipulate a conversation. 'I can fix him' was the only thing you were thinking of, the only red flags you saw were heart-shaped. Two fucked up people would be perfect for each other.

"Let's do it."

Bit by bit, he gave you tiny fragments of the shitty parts of his life, not enough to know what had happened to him at all, but to know that he was depressed although you couldn't believe it from how lively he was. You knew that the years of his life since he was a child were full of despair although you never knew why. He was a rebellious boy, getting into fights, and substance abuse, and he was trying to leave it behind. All of the mystery just drew you in further. He was all you could think about, gushing at even the thought of him, checking your phone every 3 seconds even though you knew he couldn't have messaged that fast.

No one knew about it in your group as it just never came up, and you both spending a lot of time together was normal. The little glances and comments at each other kept it exhilarating, sometimes his hand would rest on your thigh at dinners which made you go silent.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4xreader #avoidant leon kennedy #angst

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cloudsmateria · 26 days

Note

stepbro leon working out and while he does push ups the reader is underneath him so everytime he goes down they kiss ..great way to stay motivated?… so cute..!

Hiya anon!! 👋

AHSFL 🙈 🙈 this is so cute!!!

And he’d never admit it but he’ll plan his workout sessions for when you’re home so you can join in (he’ll say you’re bugging him but you both know he’s lying 🤭)

And then after all the cuteness, he’ll roll over and grab you so you end up on top; he slips your clothes off and makes you grind your pussy on his sweaty abs til you’re cumming, getting him even messier 🤭

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cloudsmateria · 28 days

Text

line up in line (is all i remember)

mdni

leon kennedy x reader

warnings: band au, fake dating au, fem!reader, cocky leon, ooc leon, p in v, oral (f + m receiving), ooc chris, established relationship near the end, praise, pet names, set in the 90s

a/n: incredibly self indulgent of me bcs it's based on blur vs oasis.... anyway made leon a whore in this no joke i regret little

title is from line up by elastica

wc: 4.5k

“Okay- we're ready!”

An unknown woman gets in shot, quickly perfecting those last minute touches on you, before dipping out of frame once again.

“So, how do you feel about your number one single?”

“It's great- really, I feel very grateful.” Your eyes dart to the camera that zooms in on your face, a bashful smile coating your face at the realisation. “I mean, the um- the whole band feels very grateful too.”

The interviewer cocks the back of her head only slightly in frame. “You must feel like you've won the battle, no?”

A look of confusion spreads across your face. “I'm sorry?”

“The war between you and the band STARS?”

The camera zooms in further in on your face, and another look of embarrassment coats your eyes, but your face shows something akin to annoyance. “Well, we won number one, sure, but I don't think that band has got anything to do with it.”

“Yeah,” The interviewer pauses, a sigh passing from her lips. “But you've beaten them.”

“We have, yes.” Frustration ebbs in your features. “If you really want me to rub it in on how fucking undefeated we are, we played a gig in Budapest in a venue that holds ten thousand people- we sold out five nights in a row for the exact same place.”

A stretch of silence is shared between the two of you.

“Can we move on now, please?”

“Sure.” The interviewer flips through her clipboard, before pausing again. “Do you and the band have high hopes for the new album?”

“Sure we do, we try not to half-ass anything, otherwise what's the point of aiming for number one?”

–

“What do you think of being beaten?”

Leon grins at the interviewer, one shred of any coyness and full of mischief. “Straight to the point, huh sweetheart?”

His bandmate, Chris, takes a drag out of his cigarette. “Answer the fucking question, Leon.”

Said man gives a strange look to Chris, one borne of incredulousness. “Well- okay- it's not ideal, I mean, shit- who likes getting beaten?”

“Not wrong there.” The interviewer flips to another card, illegible words scrawled on the card. “Do you think you'll be able to chart for the new album?”

“If we don't, I'll be fucking pissed.” Chris gets out of his chair, throwing his cigarette to the ground. “Fuck this interview- I don't wanna hear shit about that fucking band-”

The camera cuts to an apologetic looking Leon, and the faint trembles of farewells and gratitude, before the camera cuts completely.

–

“What a dickhead.” Your bandmate lets out, taking a wheeze out of their cigarette, before blowing the smoke to let it dissipate in the air. “All muscle ‘n that and he whines like a fuckin’ baby. Bastard.”

You hum in acknowledgement more than agreement, stuffing your hands in your pockets with a scrunched up expression on your face as the bitter wind bit your skin.

A harsh contrast to the blaring sun in the sky.

“Leon looked like he didn't even give a fuck.” The stench of more cigarette smoke brushed past you, and the urge to mould your expression into one of disgust was there. “Then again, he probably wants to fuck the interviewer.”

You stifle a snort, a quick glance to your bandmate, then to the scenery of your garden that you're situated in. “He'll fuck anything with a pulse.”

You'd know that all too well, Leon Kennedy’s notorious for adultery.

“The man is insatiable.” Your bandmate finishes off, killing the fire burning through the ash with a flick to the ground and a stomp, crushing and burying it further into the concrete. “I wonder if he'll actually settle down.”

You smile to yourself, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “You'll be surprised.”

All you've earned is a peculiar glance from them.

–

“Get a load of this guy.” A drawl to the ears, but Leon's not all that bothered by the snide comment, he only cares about the big guy smoking in the corner of the room with a substantial frown on his face. “Chris’ nearly gone through the fucking packet.”

A sneer covers Chris’ face, and both Leon and Claire have to stifle a grin and a laugh. “C'mon- he's gonna stink the room out.”

The two walk in silence, going outside and around the back of the studio to stand outside together, feeling the fresh air fill their lungs, rather than the black tar from the cigarettes.

Claire sighs, taking in the fresh air with a heavy breath and a hand grazing her already perfect haid. “Hear about that Budapest thing?”

“I did- alright for some, isn't it?” Shoving his hands in his pocket, he leans against the wall, uncaring off the scuffs it lays on his jacket. “Fuckin’ hope it's not mentioned to Chris.”

A sound of agreement slips from her lips, then a half grin alongside a scrunched up side glance is directed at him. “Well- how you gonna tell him now then? Fucker might bite your head off.”

“I'm not gonna tell him,” A pregnant pause, then Leon looks at Claire with a matching grin, pushing himself off the wall. “The tabloids will.”

–

Leon doesn't do relationships. There's a reason for doing things the way he does, obviously. Why be in a relationship when you've got groupies who'll kiss the gravel you'll walk on? Every gig is a picking ground to find a lucky fan who he'll fuck.

Relationships practically spells commitment, and he's already got a band he's tied to by the wrists, why should he stick around for a relationship as well?

Suppose he's now got to kiss the days of freedom goodbye, and welcome a wealth of new beginnings as he sits in your living room.

“Paper's fresh.” You toss it on your coffee table. It's wooden, a stark difference to the glass one he has at home. Your reasoning was that it's a pain to clean, fingermarks and such ruin the classiness of it.

He can't disagree with the sentiment.

The newspaper reads a picture, one of Leon kissing you, and it's rather filthy actually. “Don't think they got my best angle.” Which is true, his hair looks a little windswept, but nothing could be done about mother nature. But they've even captured the hand he's got on your ass. Perfect.

He doesn't bother reading the title, knowing it'll be some corny title that'll make his eyes roll. Hottest couple of the nighties would obviously be a cracking title because whenever he's in a relationship, he'd make it hot.

“Probably didn't get mine either, but we're eating each other's faces,” You huff, running a hand through your hair. “I don't think it's the sort of thing to look pretty in- more erotic I suppose.”

Can't argue with that logic, but still. Leon is supposed to ooze sex appeal, the pretty boy up on walls in girl's bedrooms. He's sure they're all crying out with jealousy now that he's no longer up for grabs.

Makes his ego swell more than he thought it could.

“How long are we doin’ this for?” It was mentioned in that meeting, the one you two had in some dingy downtown bar in exchange for some privacy, but he was too busy admiring your tits.

You stay quiet for a moment, before plopping yourself down on a seat opposite him, and he tries to ignore the way your tits bounce. He's been out of the game for a month, what else is he supposed to do? “Until I break it off or until the paps get bored shitless of us.”

That could be ages, ages without being the whore he's used to, which is commitment. He's already disgusted. “Obsessed with me already sugartits?”

The name certainly throws you off, just as he had hoped, but you recover quickly from it. “Obsessed with challenging you on keeping your dick to yourself.” You tut at him, and somehow he's back with his mother. “I'm surprised you don't get paid for how many people you fuck weekly.”

With that, Leon laughs, because yeah, you're right. Besides, his dick is a thing of beauty, many women go down to their knees at the sight of it obviously. “Can I fuck you at least?”

A scoff as well of a roll of your eyes, but you don't follow it with an answer. Well, that is the case until you give him a smile. “We are dating, aren't we?”

The answer does surprise him somehow. He had a feeling that you'd say no, or maybe back away and tell him he has to now follow a life of chastity, how boring. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Seems like he wasn't able to mask it, but he shrugs at you, a lazy grin swept on his face. “I figured you'd say no.”

You hold in the temptation to scoff, and instead narrow your eyes at him, placing him under scrutiny. Can't say he doesn't enjoy it, or that would be lying. “I have needs too, Kennedy.”

“Oh, that reminds me-” You get up, and Leon's got half of the mind to get up also, until you're stood beside him. “Can I suck your dick please?”

Blunt, but you asked nicely, so he supposes it could be excused. It actually catches him off guard and makes his throat a little dry. Forthright women are terrifying. “Obsessed with my dick instead, sweetheart?”

“No,” You pause, now getting on your knees and in-between his thighs, hands already pawing his zip down. “It is because if I bruise my knees, I'll get a rumour mill going and I've got a photoshoot to go to.”

His dick comes out of the confines of his trousers, laying flaccid in your hand, and for once, he actually feel embarrassed about it. “I- I'm soft-”

“I can tell.” You kitten lick the tip, then starts pressing open mouthed kisses to slick his cock in spit, before you start jerking him off. “I'm surprised your dick isn't permanently flaccid from how much you use it- you sure it isn't broken?”

“Shut up and suck my dick, woman.” Leon's got half the mind to shove you down his dick, but it's still soft, and would defeat the whole point of it. He's a grower, okay?

“Okay floppy dick.” You do as you're told anyway, sucking him off diligently without another word, but he can tell you want to rip him a new one.

Leon also has half the mind to not let you suck his dick for that comment as well, but when you pull off and start sucking his balls, he knows keeping his mouth shut was the best idea.

You even try to take both of his balls in your mouth, drool already pooling around your mouth and dripping down your chin. Seems you like it sloppy.

“Shit-” He wants to know where you learnt to worship dick and balls the way you do. Either he's been getting mediocre head from groupies all this time, or you are just that good, but he praises that tongue you've got on you.

Because he's such a gentleman, he ushers you off his dick and tucks your hair out of your face, kneading a hand through it so he has a grip on you. “Mind if I face fuck you?”

You nod. “I'll blow your mind Kennedy.” Yeah, he's sure you'll blow his dick off too.

He taps the tip against your lips, enforcing the appearance of an incredulous look on your face, before you pry open your lips and encase his dick.

If Leon wasn't hard before, he most certainly is now. Your throat gagging on his dick, clenching and constricting around it entices him to pleasure he's not been graced with in a long time.

“Get it nice and sloppy, baby.” Hands clench at his thighs, a weight and a dig to keep him on Earth. “Gonna make you unable to fuckin’ speak.”

That's when you decide to glance up at him, a challenge brewing in your eyes, and how could he say no to such a thing?

“You fucking asked for it.” Thick strings of spit paint your chin and his dick as well as snot dribbling from your nose. His hand moving your head up and down at a consistent rate, and he's sure you're desperate for air.

But you don't tap his thigh, not even for a breather. You take it, and continue to do so until he nears his peak.

And when he's near, Leon doesn't wanna cum down your throat, moreso on your face or his stomach. However, you force your head down until your lips touch the hilt, and you swallow.

“I'm gonna- I'll cum in your mouth-” Mind blowing head gives him the inability to give good dirty talk, so instead he pulls your head back just so you're midway on his dick, and he spills into your mouth.

Your hand jerks off the part of his dick that's no longer in your mouth as he cums in your mouth, and this only stops when Leon starts whining.

“You don't have to-” Oh, you swallowed. When it comes to first time head, he tries to be a gentleman. He doesn't like making girls swallow his sperm, but it seems like you don't mind.

You scramble to your feet, and he can tell you're panting, though it's slightly subtle. “Spitters are quitters.”

With that, you wipe your face clean of spit with the back of your hand and leave Leon blissed out in your living room. “Don't forget my spare key on the coffee table.”

All Leon can muster is a distant hum of recognition, and the realisation that you can still talk pretty well.

–

The fake dating wasn't your idea, you swear on it. It was moreso Claire's idea.

See, you and Claire had been somewhat secret friends, especially when it came to the whole rivalry between your bands. What a thing that turned out to be.

The two of you weren't originally rivals, once again it was the paparazzi spurring up a good story in order for a nice juicy paycheck.

Many a time have interviewers tried to spur something on, but you do little to entertain the idea. Just to seem more sensible than the disorderly band.

Thought you're certain that they didn't anticipate that Chris Redfield would be as aggressive as shown in papers.

He's punched more journalists than fingers on both of yours and Claire's hands combined. You're surprised that not a single lawsuit is in sight.

Those muscles surely are no joke, maybe they scare lawyers or whatever well away.

Even so, you and Claire became friends despite the animosity swelling up, as well as the idea of fake dating to become a reality.

The release of new E.Ps were imminent, and who doesn't like reaching number one? More attention to the two bands going head to head.

It was to the suggestion of Claire that you'd go with Leon in the fake dating journey, considering all the other bandmates took the rivalry far too seriously.

As well as Leon being the sex icon.

Which leads you to where you are currently, with Leon sitting on his toilet, face dripping with blood.

“This whole thing was a shockingly shit idea.” Your hand grips his chin, forcing him to look at you as you gently clean his face up. “Whoever came up with it should've been beat too.”

A laugh huffs out of you, a soft grin spreading your lips as you dab the cotton ball on his cuts and bruises. “Would you still say that if I told you it was Claire?”

Silence, and a glance away from you was all that you needed to get your answer from him. “You care about her a lot- Claire I mean.”

It's not a prying question, more of an endearing and gentle remark, and thankfully, it's not taken in any other way. “How can I not?”

Leon's answer rings true to your ears, so you say nothing to dispute it, and instead brush some of his locs away to clean a cut. “Chris really did a number on you.”

“Uh-huh.” It's said without skipping a beat, one that spoke of ‘yeah, no shit’. “At least I didn't hit back- I'm being the bigger person.”

“Well done for being mature- I'm sure you restrained yourself extremely well.” You try to ignore the way his eyes lighten up a little, despite your voice retaining a hint of sarcasm.

Although you're sure he takes it as a joke, Leon still plays along. “Does it mean I get a reward?”

A sigh, and whatever you were doing to clean his face momentarily pauses, your hands drooping only slightly. “Like what? I swear if it's drugs Kennedy, then you can fuck right off-”

“-Will you sit on my face please?”

Your face gapes, and although the offer is a lovely one, you still can't help but narrow your eyes at him. “You got beat up by Chris because we're da- fake dating, and you want me to sit on your face?”

He nods, and you shake your head. “You're addicted to sex, I think.”

Leon shakes his head, a grin growing on his face. “No- addicted to pussy, two very different things.”

A scoff, and you even screw up your nose at him, but you give him a big grin. “At least you asked nicely. How do you wanna do it though?”

The question soon leads to you clutching onto your headboard, your pussy just hovering above Leon's mouth.

His hands wrap around to your thighs, pulling you down forcefully so you're properly seated on his face, allowing him to spit and lick at your clit.

“Oh- Leon-” Looking down at him, you admire how he fully immerses himself, nose bumping and rubbing against your clit as his tongue starts thrusting in and out of you. “Like that- please-”

A smack to your ass makes you jolt, a gasp escaping your lips, followed by a gentle moan barely scraping past your lips.

Your free hand moves to thread into his hair and grip on it, rutting your hips against his face as you feel slick pooling down into it.

Leon lets out a muffled groan, leaving another smack to your ass, although you don't jolt this time, and instead buck your pussy into his face, his nose now roughly nudging against you.

Continuing to roll your hips, you feel yourself bite your bottom lip, hyper fixated on making yourself cum as slick drips down into his mouth.

You're vaguely aware that Leon needs to breathe, though because you're so hellbent on cumming, the fact is ignored as you clench around his tongue uselessly as you reach your climax.

“‘m gonna cum- Leon-” With the utterance of his name, your hole spasms around his tongue as he gobbles up your release like it's the last sip of water in a suffocating desert.

Vaguely aware of your shaky legs, you lift yourself off of his mouth, and you yelp at the sudden attack on your ass again. “One more.”

The man sounds drunk, but you can't help but say yes, and return to sitting on his face again.

–

The clicks of cameras ring true in the background, flashes and shouts accompanying the noise as the camera pans to you and Leon.

“Excuse me!” The interviewer beckons the two over, and you lead Leon by the hand to the man, a grin on both of your faces. “You two look lovely tonight, can we get a few questions?”

The camera cuts to the two of you again, a nod coming from you as the interviewer hovers a microphone just shy of his lips. “So- how did you two get it on?”

A blush coats your cheeks, and Leon can sense your embarrassment, so he leans forward to answer the question. “Thank Claire- they were friends since before the whole rivalry shit- suppose you can piece together the rest.”

“How long have you two been dating then?” The interviewer more than shouts into their faces as the cheers of an audience and more camera clicking fills the air.

You decide to answer the question, smiling gently at the interviewer. “Just over a month, we kept it a secret, you see.”

“But Leon was flirting with women at that time.” It's more than a question than a statement. “And he's said in previous interviews that he has no interest in a relationship.”

You lean forward again, Leon still having a smile on his face, but it slightly resembled a grimace. “Our relationship was a secret- everything had to appear as normal so nobody would suspect anything.”

Leon nods, now taking over on speaking. “And I changed my mind about dating- I've had bad relationships in the past, but I had enough not sticking to one girl.”

The interviewer seems to mirror Leon's previous facial expression, but he continues with the questions anyway. “Does Leon's adventurous sex life bother you?”

You shake your head and shrug your shoulders. “Why should it bother me? I think how he used to spend his time before me is up to him- as long as he's loyal I don't care.”

With that, you press a kiss to your partner’s cheek, to which it is then followed up with Leon pressing a forceful kiss to your lips, and gasps echo around the camera.

–

“Fuck me- Leon-” You lazily move up and down his cock, heavy and deep hitting within you as his hands grip at your ass.

A groan cracks out from his throat, the feeling of your clenching walls mean much to the pleasure receptors flashing in his head, and mean a lot to his dick too.

As soon as you got back from the event, you'd stripped your clothes off and wanted to sleep. But Leon had a better idea.

That on camera kiss turned a coil in him, and he's sure both of your faces will be on the front page, to which he did shove his tongue down your throat, and your healing knees were very visible in the dress that you wore.

“That's it, pretty girl.” You're a star, one that belongs on stage, one that belongs on the red carpet and one that belongs on his dick. Leon only lets the best ride his cock. “Pussy's fuckin’ sucking me in.”

His hands start to massage your tits, earning an appreciative moan from you, pinching your nipples slightly before moving away from them to return back to their original position, not before slapping your ass harshly.

The roll of your hips is slow, yet enticing. It leaves him addicted, leaves him smacking your ass and you leaning down to press another kiss to his lips.

“I can't- please- '' The whine spills out from your lips, your hands clutching the dress shirt he still has on, you now lifting your hips up and down at a hastened pace.

His hands assist you, loud yet harsh slapping sounds echoing around the room, as well as sounds of delight coming from the two of you.

Leon grumbles out a groan as you start clenching around him, your release convulsing around his dick, wetting it and his balls.

Surprisingly, you don't stop moving your hips, and you don't until Leon's huffing out a faint warning. “G'nna fill you up nicely.”

Leon soon feels his balls tighten, following him spilling inside you, and he doesn't even think, let alone wish to pull out.

The two of you catch your breaths in silence, and it's only then you break it. “Go out with me.”

Leon's got half the mind to shove you off him, but you push yourself up so you're sat up, letting his softening cock sit in you. “What?”

“I mean- be in a relationship with me.” You sniffle, fiddling with the edges of his dress shirt as you dare not to look away (Leon wishes you would.)

He gives you that incredulous look, one that shows how utterly baffled he is. “We're already in one.”

A shake of your head, and that's when you snap your gaze away from him, finding the corner of his room much more appealing. “We aren't in a real one.”

With those words, he understands what you're getting at. All he knows how to do is laugh, so he lets out one. “You- wait- you like me?”

“Yeah, I-I've had to suffice with your floppy dick for the past fucking month- why wouldn't I?” Ouch, the floppy dick dig again? It's really starting to hurt his feelings.

“Can you stop with the floppy-” The look you give him shuts him up, you're a terrifying woman when you want to be. Makes him lick his lips and fumble on his words, truly. “I don't do relationships-”

“Liar-” An interruption, and he can't help but narrow his brows at you. How dare you cut him off. “You do our fake one just fine.”

“That's different-”

“-Is it? Because you-”

“-Will you stop interrupting me?”

The short argument ends, and it leaves Leon sitting up and leaning on a hand to keep himself up, his other running a hand through his hair.

Silence, and a pleading look sends a sigh barrelling down from his lips. “Okay, I'll do it, but I swear-”

A kiss seals the deal, and Leon merely has a fleeting thought that he's sealed his life away or something. That is until you roll your hips and break the kiss. “Round two?”

He only answers with a kiss and turning your positions so your back is on the bed. “You must love my dick.”

You laugh, though it's punched out of you with a hard thrust, and even Leon can't help but moan at it considering his still slightly sensitive dick.

“Surprised it's not broken yet-” Another thrust, and that's when you finally shut up.

–

Chris and Claire are at the centre of the camera, although Claire looks rather uncomfortable.

“Thank you both for joining us today.” A shake in the interviewer's voice is all too obvious, and the shake in her hand is slight. “So- how have you been?”

“Fine.” A short answer, gruff and rushed from the large man.

“Could be better.” Claire starts, then she nudges Chris. “Mister Grump over here hasn't given me a break since the lovely couple-”

“-Mention them one more time and I'll break something.”

The interview goes silent, though Claire only laughs and rests easy with a cheesy grin perking up on her face. “He'll get over it.”

The room goes quiet, and even through the screen, the emotion of bafflement is shared.

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cloudsmateria · 28 days

Text

and he’s like i have to get back home to my wife for motivation when he’s on missions of my god this is so fluffy 😞😞

tw: mentions of smut, slight roughness

i don’t know MAYBE it’s just me but i’ve always imagined re4 Leon as a gentle lover.

he’s so gentle and caring, soft kisses on your temple and on your shoulder when you’re getting dressed for the day.

carries in all the groceries in one trip because impressing you is so much more important than the blood circulation in his arm right?

even when he’s moody he will mumble small “thank you” s and “love you”s whenever you do something for him.

he hates it most whenever he has to leave you for work. unexpected trips that make him so heartbroken to see your face get flushed with sadness, your eyes getting glossy and your voice shaking when you say goodbye.

all he can do is hug you so tight, taking in the scent of you and closing his eyes as he kisses your head over and over reminding you of how he always comes back and always will.

and he does

and when he does come back it’s like a different person for a couple hours.

you can’t recognize the sweet leon you know who used to brush your hair for you after a long night of drinking, only thing in your hair is his long fingers, tugging at your strands and pulling your head back as he grinds into you. he is so so rough, he doesn’t even know how strong he is either.

one hand in your hair and the other having a bruising grip on your waist as he tries to focus on a specific pattern that he knows will make you crumble right below him.

“look at that arch so fucking perfect for me, can’t imagine what you would do without me.”

it’s the dirty talk that gets you. you are usually his sweetheart, his angel, baby, princess, honey. but on nights when he comes home from a long trip you’re nothing but his and you can’t question it.

you let out loud whines as you try and stutter words out as you suddenly feel his chest press against your back, his chuckle in your ear sending chills down your spine.

“what, can’t speak? it’s okay, pretty little pussy is speaking for you.”

leon groans in your ear as he kisses the shell of your ear then the back of your neck.

the sweet couple dynamic is shattered just for about an hour, just till he’s done with you. then when he is done with you, he’s letting you lean against him in the shower as he rinses the shampoo out of your hair, talking about how he couldn’t believe the things they have him do for work.

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cloudsmateria · 29 days

Note

Can you recommend one shot that is the best you ever read for Leon kennedy? I kinda lost passion for reading ��

yes i can :)

so i don't have a single one shot that i would point to as the best, but here are some of my favorites that i think of often or go back to reread occasionally <3 they are all smut cause that is what i typically read lol but some do have plot along with it.

addicted by @explorevenus this one is great, kinda angsty but with smut too. it's so well written and sweet. she gets leon's character down perfectly. it lives in my mind. she's such a talented writer, i would recommend any of her work.

out of my head tonight by @nexysworld this is another really good one. fair warning, it is darker and angsty, but it also has great smut. it's a cool take on a version of leon's character. nexy is another really talented writer that i would recommend checking out in general.

c'mon bunny by @elfven-blog one of the first leon one shots i read :) this is smut, but it's really good. honey writes great stuff for leon, so again, any of her works are a safe bet.

tick tock by @gigabyte-flare tw for dark content, but this is a banger. this one really sticks out in my mind to this day. the smut is fire, so i would recommend this along with pixel's other work.

license and registration by @viaoverthemoon this one is so cute! it's smutty and the dynamic between reader and leon is really well done :)

restless by @ovaryacted listen... me and somno are no secret, and this one is super well done. i typically don't read fics where reader is the dom either, so i think that is a testament to its quality. definitely check out nic's work in general, they're a great writer :)

sweet creature by @d10nyx absolute banger. 10/10. it's wolf and bunny, and the dynamic is just done so well. nyx cooked here for sure. i just couldn't get enough of this one!

rose print by @iwantyouinacage tw for stepcest. however. the writing in this one is beautiful and it sticks with me cause i am a sucker for pining and guilt which ami did perfectly here. so good. <3

also this list isn't exhaustive or anything, these were just the handful that popped into my mind :)

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cloudsmateria · 29 days

Text

🤤🤤

License and Registration

RE2!Cop!Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your police officer boyfriend, Leon, catches you speeding once again.

Content: SMUT, car sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, switch Leon, kind of-dom Reader, teasing, praise, comfort, not throughly proofread (I'm rusty- Let me know if I missed anything!)

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

Enjoy!

.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

The sound of a siren pulls you from the adrenaline high you were experiencing.

Instantly recognizing the head of blonde hair behind the windshield, you smirk, pressing the brake and moving off to the side. Not that it mattered all that much, seeing as you were on a deserted side road surrounded by trees.

The gum in your mouth sticks to your teeth with every chew, the red of your lipstick smearing on it.

The officer walks out of the car with his head hung low and shaking, as if he were disappointed.

He definitely is.

You roll down your window, blowing a bubble into your gum as he comes to a stop outside of your door.

His brows furrow angrily as he places his hands on his hips. "(Y/n)..."

You pop the bubble, sucking it back into your mouth and offering him a sly smile. "Officer Kennedy!"

He glares at you whilst you pull your mirror down and fix your hair. "What are you doing on duty so late? I thought we had a hot date at 6 o'clock."

He doesn't seem to share your playful mood, crossing his arms across his chest and giving you that concerned, unimpressed look. "Sweetheart... I thought we talked about driving recklessly just to see me when I'm working."

You flutter your lashes, looking up at him with a mocking pout. "Oh baby... not everything I do has something to do with you..."

He leans in through your open window, coming so close his lips brush against your ear. "Angel, whenever it comes to you acting like a desperate little brat, it's always got something to do with me."

Heat pools in your belly. You're about to ask him if that was a challenge but he steps back, leaving a hand on the edge of your car window and running a hand through his blonde hair and taking a deep breath.

"Baby, I can't keep letting you go with a warning. Someone's bound to catch on..."

You hum, reaching a hand up and running your fingertips along the skin of his arm.

His eyes snap to your hand before looking at you, eyes wide and shocked.

"I'm sorry, my love... is there any way I can make it up to you?"

☆

If someone drove down this road right now, you'd be screwed.

The smell of sweat and sex fills the small space of the car around you as your nails dig little crescent marks into your boyfriend's shoulders.

Leon wasted no time after your question, dragging you from your car and tossing you into the back seat of his cop one.

And now, you sit on his lap, his cock nested deep inside of you.

His hands rest comfortably on your ass, his eyes drinking in the sight of your face as you whimper and whine at the mere feeling of him.

When your hips stutter and your legs begin to give out, he shifts his hands to the underside of your thighs, helping you move up and down on his cock.

Blinking through the thickening hot haze, you look down at your officer.

He's already looking up at you, brows drawn together and pink lips parted in pure pleasure as a faint moan leaks from him.

Your hands slide up his skin and into his hair, nails lightly kneading his scalp whilst you roll your hips, pouting when Leon gasps against your lips. "Poor baby... Does it feel too good?"

You feel his hips jerk upwards, pushing himself impossibly deeper as he nods and places his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. "So good- Feels so good, angel...-"

A grunt escapes him, his large hands tightening around your thighs. You nearly cry out when he suddenly picks up the pace, chasing after his fast approaching high.

"L-Leon-! Baby slow down-!"

But it's as if your words fall on deaf ears. Leon only groans loudly, throwing his head back and whining pathetically.

You're teetering on the edge of your own release when a sudden rush of wind and the console digging into your lower back take you by complete surprise.

Your hips lay squished between the two front seats, legs on either side of Leon's hips and in the air. Your hands shift to his upper back, nails scratching harshly along his skin.

He pushes his body weight on you to keep you still as you writhe beneath him, gasping and whining into the empty space of the car.

His large cock slides along your wet walls, the movements creating the most pornographic squelching noise you've ever heard. You swear you feel every vein, every twitch, every stretch.

You cry out, gripping onto him for dear life as your release tears through you, taking your breath away and causing stars to form behind your eyelids.

Leon swears as he feels you clench around him, his legs stopping for just a moment before he groans, pushing into you slowly one last time.

His warm seed spurts inside of you, coating every corner of your walls. He grips the seats for support from the sheer power of his orgasm.

You help him down from his high, stroking his forearms and whispering praises in his ear.

And you only stop when Leon goes slack, pulls out of you with a hiss, and begins to clean everything up. "Jesus Christ... we're never doing that again."

You scoff, slipping your skirt back on. "Oh, we're definitely gonna do this again babe,". You laugh as Leon groans, sitting back in the seat and throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Anyone could have seen us..." His cheeks are flushed pink in embarrassment, blonde hair still messy from all the times you ran your hands through it.

You slide closer to him and kiss his cheek. "Well then, it's a good thing no one did, huh?" You giggle as he playfully glares at you.

Biting your lip, you go to whisper in his ear, discretely slipping something into his pocket. "See you at 8?"

And with that, you slip out of the car and make your way back to your vehicle, pulling your skirt down into place and adjusting your shirt.

All while wondering what his reaction will be when he finds the pair of panties you'd stuffed into his pocket.

.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Heyyyy...

Been a while huh? 😓

I'm backkkk

I've been a little busy, BUT, I'm not working anymore cause I'm moving to college soon so I've got a little more time before my real chaos enters my life.

Happy to see y'all again!

-Via 💕

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cloudsmateria · 29 days

Text

i have read this so many fucking times bro it’s so good

Summary: Leon is sent on a mission to carry out a hit for the government. He hated these missions the most, but worst of all you weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to see him. Pairing: ID!Assassin Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, canon typical gore, graphic depictions of murder, comfort sex, mild dubcon, unprotected sex, fem!receiving oral sex, soft sex, angsty sex, hurt/comfort/hurt, dark content, descriptions of wound dressing. WC: 5.2k

A/N: This was a birthday fic for the wonderful @elfven-blog. <3 Title from the lyrics to the song Sextape by Deftones. Edit: I also have a bot based on this fic now: Character AI | Spicychat

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

Cool air bristled the hairs on the back of his neck, limbs tingling with the typical anticipation of what came next. Hits weren’t his favorite type of mission, not by a longshot, he wanted to save people, not kill them. But with experience came a certain professional numbness and a way to compartmentalize. It didn’t help that the locale for this affair was in the dead center of a suburban upper class neighborhood. Every home had that same limestone brick or white overlapping paneling. Every door the same mahogany brown, tacky lawn gnomes, overly green grass, white picket fences – the works. The possibility of witnesses was high, the escape routes limited.

Regardless, Leon was a professional, and he would make it work. He always did.

Tilting his wrist, he looked down at the gold rolex, it was a little past 2:30am. He listened closely, to ensure there was no movement inside. The double windowed back doors were his point of entry. The brass knobs were old, the locks inside not quite as intricate as modern ones, all it took was a good smack against the swiss army knife he’d jammed into it for the lock to click open. The door opened quietly, he made sure to not close it completely behind him to ensure he could make his escape.

The house had an eerie quiet over it, almost like the universe knew what was about to happen. Leon cracked his neck and let out a breath, careful to not touch anything as he moved throughout the lower floor, clearing each room. The kitchen was pristine, nothing out of place on the island or counter. There was no homely smell of food, only the lingering scent of some harsh cleaner. Not a sign that anyone had even been down there within the past several hours – a good thing, he noted. Through the archway came the living room, he had been hopeful someone had opted to sleep on the couch, separate targets were easier targets. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t so lucky.

The plush gray sectional was untouched, not so much as a divet into the cushion. The TV remote lay on the dark oak coffee table. Unlike the kitchen, this room felt more homely. The faint smell of some fruity air freshener was all over, the cherry walls were lined with gold plated frames of the family.

His target was some small town politician, Jackson Moore, normally somebody not noteworthy to the government in the slightest, but he made the unfortunate mistake of shaking hands with terrorists, facilitating the sale of some new viral invention through the local pharmacies. The idea of another Raccoon City incident made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure who he held more anger for, the people like this person who’d bring it about, or the government that he knew turned a blind eye until now – the same government who wouldn’t make the effort to save the people who uphold it.

He shook his head, and pushed his bangs back refocusing for a moment. He scanned over the pictures. Most normal family outings, some graduation photos and holiday ones in there. Hunnigan had told him beforehand that all of the kids were off to college, none due back for several more weeks. The only targets in the house were Mr. and Mrs. Moore.

There was only one more room on the bottom floor, where he was sure his victims were, the master bedroom. Leon made his way over, silently padding down the short hall staring at the door. It was cracked, the sound of light snoring and the smell of mint wafting from the room. He peeked inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room, a string of moonlight the only thing illuminating the sleeping lumps on the bed.

He tested the door, it squealed slightly as it opened making him freeze. One of the sleeping forms moved slightly rolling over. He waited, still as a statue until he was sure that both still remained asleep before sliding himself through the narrow opening he’d made.

Looming over the sleeping forms, he pulled his gun out from it’s holster attached to his waist. Even with the silencer, he knew he needed to be quick. One shot would wake the other, and then it was a matter of speed. He cocked the pistol, taking a few more steps towards the unaware persons before him. The gun felt heavy in his hand, but he lifted it anyway, deciding to start with the official target first.

Will the trigger pulled back, the room lit up for a split second with the bang of the gun. Time slowed as he watched the man’s body jolt slightly, blood splattering onto the pillow, the walls. The smell of gunpowder and iron hit his nose. The man’s fingers twitched slightly before his movement stopped. Just like he had expected, his wife was awake instantly, though no noise came from her.

Wide eyed, she stared at Leon, then down at her husband next to her. Her mouth opened like she was trying to scream, but the noise was caught in her throat, tears welled in the woman’s eyes. Blood had splattered onto her too, some chunks of brain along with it dripped from her curlers onto her lap. Her trembling hands reached over to her husband, “Jacks.” She whispered, reaching over and putting her hand on his deformed face. “Jacks.” She leaned over the man, trying to scoop the bits and pieces of him back together.

Leon wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to wonder if that’s how someone might react to his death some day. But he pushed those feelings aside, she was a target, culpable in everything just as her husband was. He lifted the gun again, pointing it at her.

As she looked at him, eyes wide with fear, her mouth formed the shape of a word. He didn’t need to hear it to know it was a plea. He pulled the trigger again.

Deadshot, like putting down an animal, between the eyes.

Her body crumbled over itself as she slumped forward onto the bed, the back of her head exploded open like a volcano of bone, blood, and brain matter.

Not dwelling on it, he put his finger to the device in his ear. “It’s done, Hunnigan.” “Good work Leon. I’ll make sure that –”

“Hey mom, you still up? I thought I heard something.”

The soft voice pulled Leon from his conversation, there were footsteps out in the hallway and the sound of a lightswitch clicking on. ‘Shit.’ He cursed to himself inwardly. He took a few steps back from the door, whispering to Hunnigan. “You said there were no other targets here.” “There aren't –” “The daughter is home.” “Does she know you’re there?” “No, not yet.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before she spoke again. “Leon.” Hunnigan’s voice was serious, she knew him well enough after all these years to know his thoughts. “Leave no witnesses.” “There won’t be, she doesn’t even know I'm here.” The sound of the fridge opening and closing indicated the girl’s location. “Everyone at the location is a target, Leon. Everyone at the location is a witness.” “Not if she – “ “Leon, this is an order.” “I can wait for her –” “Leon –”

“She doesn’t have to die.” “Dad, is that you?” The sound of his voice, despite him doing his best to stay at a whisper, must've alerted the girl. There was shuffling around on the other end of the line, the next voice he heard made his blood cold. The head of the D.S.O shouting into his ear. “Kennedy, this is an order, kill her! Complete the mission. Do you understand me?”

“Understood.” He said flatly, disconnecting from the call. In a worse stroke of bad luck, the door to the bedroom swung open nearly at the same time.

And there you were.

Glass shattering as it hit the floor, water splattering around as the light from the hallway lit up the room from the opened door. You trembled in place as you processed the sight of things. Leon was frozen where he stood too. You were an adult, but young, more importantly innocent in all of this. Rarely in his forced-on-him career has he had to kill someone completely innocent. Usually it was the partners of criminals, civilians caught in crossfire. But never someone as young as you, never in a situation so targeted.

He hardly registered the shriek you made before you bolted. Acting purely on instinct he took off after you, the delay of his own shock didn’t matter much when he noticed the slimy trail of bloody footprints from where you’d ran through the glass left in the hallway. His own boots crunching it against the ground as he moved. If you had been smart, you’d have turned for the front door, or even the back. Instead, nearly sliding on your own blood you went for the staircase, the one route that would trap you on the upper floor. You let out a yelp of pain, trying your hardest to only use your less injured foot to bounce up the stairs as quickly as you could, the blood matting down into the carpet with each step.

It didn’t take long for Leon to catch up, thumping up each one loudly as his boots made contact. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t take his gun out, why he was even letting you attempt this unwinnable escape, he also didn’t know. Maybe it was just delaying the inevitable.

He reached out for you just as you made it to the top of the stairs. A simple shove was all it took to send you flying into the decorative hall table that waited at the top. A sickening crack was heard as your head collided with the dark wood, knocking it over as you rolled over with a groan, dazed from it. Managing to prop yourself up on your elbows, Leon could see the trickle of blood that began to run down your eye and cheek, along with the starting to swell shiner from your high-speed table collision.

You scuttled backwards, as best you could, haphazardly tossing the vase that had fallen at him. It missed, and went crashing onto the stairs. Tears mixed with the blood on your face, diluting the color, only leaving the dry specs stuck there. You looked pathetic and terrified in a way that made Leon’s heart twist.

“P-please… don’t.” You pleaded, putting your hand out and up as if that simple gesture would be enough to stop him, distance him from yourself.

He couldn’t do this, at least not like this. He kneeled before you, cupping your uninjured cheek in his hand. “Shhhh. Shhh.”

“P-please… I won’t tell any–” “It’s ok,” he cooed. “It’s not my style to hurt pretty girls, you know that?” He added as he scooped you up from the ground bridal style. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Getting his DNA all over you, getting your blood on him. This wasn’t a clean kill, this wasn’t what the upper brass wanted. For the moment though, he didn’t care. “Where’s your room, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t point or make a sound, your eyes darted from him to the cracked door next to him and then back to him as you shook in his hold. He wedged it open the rest of the way with his foot, before gently placing you down on your bed. It didn’t look right, all the blood staining into the fresh and plush sheets. It was different than your parents downstairs, the whole room screamed you. From the decor on the walls, to the laptop on the nightstand, your college hoodie hanging off the back of the chair at your desk. More reminders that you didn’t deserve this.

Before you could, he swiped the phone off of the side table, stuffing it into his pant pocket. “I know you hurt right now.” He said sweetly, “Give me a minute and we’ll get you all cleaned up, alright?” He gave you a moment to process his words. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He asked himself, as he held your hand, patting your arm gently. He could see the confusion in your eyes as the gears in your head turned to try and make a decision – timidly you nodded. He shot you his signature smile. “Atta girl. Stay here for me, no funny business.” Pointing a finger gun at you before he slipped out into the hallway and into the upstairs bathroom.

The suddenly bright lighting stung his eyes, he saw himself in the mirror, your blood speckled onto his jacket, some dried to his face. He looked rough, a cold sweat broken out onto his face, blue eyes distant looking back at himself. He splashed some cold water onto his face to calm his nerves before digging around to see if there was anything he could use to alleviate some of your pain, even if temporarily. The medicine cabinet was well stocked, though nothing would be enough to really combat the pain of your cracked head and torn up feet. He bit his lip as he grabbed some bandages and the bottle of peroxide.

First aide wasn’t really his specialty, but he knew enough from training. Along with the other supplies, he filled the empty cup on the counter with warm soap water, and took the washcloth with him.

To his surprise you were exactly where he’d left you, splayed out on the bed, looking scared and exhausted. Your head rested against the pillow, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to take a look at your feet first.” Not that he really gave you the option, but you nodded in return. Leon was no stranger to gore, guts, and the rest, but something about them gave him pause. There was so much blood he could hardly see what was skin and what was glass. “It might sting just a little.” He assured, pouring the cold liquid out onto your feet. You hissed and squirmed a bit, but he placed his arm over your ankles to keep them still, watching as the peroxide bubbled, clearing away the redness of the blood. Small pieces of glass fell with it onto the now stained carpet. He opted to speak to you, see if he could get you to calm down some more while he worked, pouring more over the wounds. “You’re in college?” There was something about you that was indescribable to him, familiar to him, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah.” Finally you answered with words, voice barely above a whisper. “Shouldn’t you be at school then? I thought the semester was still going.” He as he checked you over for any more obvious glass. When it was clear the peroxide had done it’s job, he took the bandages, gently wrapping them around your feet, gauze padding them.

“D-dropped out.” You squeaked out. “Last minute decision, had to come home.” He tied off the bandage before moving to look at your face. “School’s not for everyone. You’re probably better off without it.” Leon dipped the washcloth into the cup, wringing it out over the carpet, not really caring about the mess. He dabbed it gently against your injured face, helping to remove the remaining mess and to get a better look. Luckily the cut above your eye seemed superficial and the blood had stopped running, it was just a matter of cleaning up the dried mess that was left over. He was careful around the tender purple skin as he cleared as much as he could. “You have a boyfriend you leave back at school?”

“No. Never had one at all actually.” You replied, wincing when he accidentally touched a painful spot. “Never had one?” He asked more for himself than as a real question to you. ‘Hasn’t finished school, never had a boyfriend. This is so fucked up. She can’t be any older than Ashley was…’ He thought to himself, debating whether the court marshalling would be worth letting you go. In the same train of thought, he considered what would happen to you if he did. The government would probably send someone else just like him, someone less soft. He bristled at the thought, sitting up straight on the side of your bed. “That’s a shame, I would’ve thought a cute girl like you would be drowning in guys asking her out.” “Not really” You seemed to relax a bit now, well as relaxed as a person could be in your state. He could still tell from your blown pupils and 1000 mile stare that you were still in shock. Probably a good thing. “My parents are… were, strict.” Your face contorted like you were about to be sick at the memory.

Leon went back to stroking your cheek gently for comfort. “So no boyfriend, ever have your first kiss? First time?” Now that he had a better chance to really look at you, all cleaned up he realized who you reminded him of. Not so much Ashley, she was more strong willed and you didn’t quite look the part either. It wasn’t just the age, no…your voice, mannerisms, the way you looked. It was so very much her. Someone he hadn’t thought about since before even Raccoon City.

“Yeah. Wasn’t very good, some drunk frat boy.” You admitted leaning slightly into his touch. Silence passed between you both, nothing but the ceiling fan whirring above you. An automated air freshener spritzed roses and lilac into the air, barely covering the distinct peroxide and blood smell. Leon was surprised when you finally spoke again. “Why did you do it?”

The look on your face gutted him more than it should have. “I had to.” “Because of his job?” “Something like that, yeah.” “Did he deserve it?” “Yeah.”

You nodded, turning your eyes away from the ceiling to look at him. There was another tense silence before you spoke again. “Are you going to kill me too?”

He felt a chill ran over his body at the question. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to yours, moving his hand up to stroke your hair. “I don’t want to.” It wasn’t a real answer and he knew that, but it was honest. “Why are you being nice to me?” “I told you, I don’t like to hurt cute girls.” “That’s not it.”

How you read him for filth like that he’ll never know. “You remind me of someone.” He leaned back just enough to look at you again, but kept your faces close, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Who was she?” “My first girlfriend.” He admitted. “What happened to her?” “We broke up.” He said with a short laugh. “Right before my very first day as a cop.” While the conversation was far from appropriate for the situation, he supposed it worked to calm you down more as he felt you relax into the bed. His internal struggle was still playing tug-of-war with his psyche, not sure of how to proceed.

The piece in his ear picked up with some static before Hunnigan’s familiar voice was heard. “Leon are you there?”

He ignored her in favor of continuing to dote over you, hand gently running through your hair, taking in your features more. That trepidation never left your eyes – he understood it. He probably looked psychotic right now, a murderer who was being eerily kind. He was self aware enough to know that much.

“Leon, we haven’t heard a status report. Has the last target been eliminated?” She spoke loud enough this time that while it couldn’t have been above the lowest whisper for you, it was obvious you heard it, eyes widened again, mouth opening slightly. To keep you quiet he leaned forward pressing his lips to yours, a soft kiss you didn’t really return. “Stay quiet for me, ok?” He mumbled against your lips, before sitting up again. He considered replying to Hunnigan, but looking down at you, he took his earpiece out, tossing it to the other side of the room instead.

Hey eyed you again, before adding another kiss. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this.’ He reprimanded himself, as he placed another this time to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then jaw. Another on your neck for good measure. ‘I should’ve done it the second she opened the door. I should’ve done my job.’ Despite his mind’s dialogue he continued now at your collar bone. ‘Like ripping off a band aid…. I can’t let her last moments be like that.’ He began to rationalize as he looked up at you. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Wh-what?” “You deserve better than a drunk frat boy. Let me make you feel good.” He repeated. “Why?” “Because I want to.” He could clock the nervousness in your voice immediately. “You can say no.” He added. “I’m not a rapist.”

“A-are you going to kill me if I say no?” “No, of course not.” Again, it wasn’t technically a lie. He wouldn’t be doing it because you declined, but he felt mild disgust with himself for side-stepping the reality of the situation again. ‘It’s better this way though. For her.’

“Ok.” You said, nodding at him to continue. He treated you like glass, gently working your thin tank top up and over your breasts. He continued by kissing each one tenderly before taking your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until he felt it pebble. When you whimpered at the feeling, he began to suck on it, kneading your other breast with his hand. When he pulled himself off with a pop, he looked down at you, lips parted, eyes closed. Enjoying so much despite him having done so little. Adorable.

He ran his thumb along your bottom lip until he saw those pretty eyes crack open before capturing your lips again, taking the chance to slip his tongue inside once parted. You were sloppy with inexperience, but tasted like dessert, sweet. It made his cock twitch against his pants. He groaned slightly into your mouth, ignoring his own need. Pulling away he let you catch your breath, giving him the chance to move down your body one kiss under your breasts. The next above your naval – stomach contracting slightly. He added one more above the hem of your night pants.

He looked up at you, silently checking with you if it was alright to continue again. When you nodded, he helped you out of the pants. Gently tugging them down from the waist band, lifting each separate leg himself, careful to not hurt your already injured feet. “You alright?” “Y-yeah.”

“Let me know if anything hurts, ok?” “Ok.” “Good girl.”

Leon tugged his leather jacket off discarding it on the floor before rolling up the sleeves of his button up. He claimed a spot between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder for better access to what he was about to do. He gave a reassuring kiss to your thigh, using a free hand to part your folds, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently. He eyed you watching as you melted under his touch, soft whimpers tickling at his eardrums. “Such a pretty girl.” He cooed, replacing his thumb with his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive bud.

He had to grind down on the bed himself to relieve some of his own tension, reminding himself to keep his focus on you. His grip on your leg tightened as you arched your back, squirming more and more against his touch. “God…oh god…” You chanted, head tossed back, the leg draped over his shoulder kicking at his back. He knew you were close when your voice cracked, soft gasps escaped your lips. He continued lapping at you as you ground against his face, letting you ride through your orgasm – only stopping when your hands made purchase in his hair to get his attention. “C-can’t…can’t.”

Pulling back, he wiped your slick off his chin with his forearm, looking down at you. He watched as your chest heaved slowly, returning to a normal rhythm. Your uninjured eye was lidded less with shock and more with that familiar coming down of pleasure. He went to move back when you grabbed his arm, looking directly at him. “What about you?” He was a little shocked by the words, your concern for him. “I said I wanted to make you feel good.” He chalked it up to your likely traumatized and now lust hazed brain. “Don’t worry about me.” Leon made the motion to move again. “Wait.” You called, grip on his arm tightening. “What if… what if I want to?”

He didn’t move, unsure of how to respond. He’d already fucked up the mission, already covered you in his DNA, yours on him – but he couldn’t do what you were asking. That was too far.

“P-please?” You choked out, tears now welling in your eyes, spilling over and staining your cheeks again.

And just like that he was taken back to that day again, right before Raccoon City. A night he swore was the worst of his life, until he knew better. Sitting there across from him, begging him not to go – you sounded just like her too, like she was frozen in time beneath him. Even worse, this was the opposite of what he wanted, he wanted to make things easier for you, relax you. “I just want to be close, please? Please?” You were full on crying now, face scrunching up, barely able to catch your breath. “Ok. Ok.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again. “Shhh, don’t cry. Don’t cry. How do you want me to take you?” Your words came out between sniffles and hiccups. “Any way, you want.”

He nodded, sitting back enough to help you sit up, slipping your shirt off all the way. “Can you flip over for me? Lay down flat on your stomach.” He helped you comply with the command, still careful of your injuries. He could see the bandages on your feet had turned a slight pink. Once you were laid out the way he wanted, relaxed, face down into the pillow, he worked his own shirt off, tossing it over in a pile atop his jacket. His gun was removed from the holster, he was careful to lock the safety, discarding it with his other items. He left his pants on, undoing them enough to free his half hard cock, the head still weeping.

He spat in his hand, giving himself a few good tugs, feeling himself hardening fully again. “You ready?” “Yeah.” He crawled forward, gently lifting your butt up just enough for him to line himself at your soaking entrance. He grunted when he pressed in, you sucking him in warm and wet. He let you take a moment to relax down again as he leaned forward, pressing the entirety of his bare chest to your back, sinking his cock in slowly until he was buried all the way inside of your heat.

He kissed up your shoulders, and neck, rolling his hips into your slowly. “God you’re tight baby.” He whispered against your ear. He didn’t have the heart to rail you into the mattress, wanting to abate your request for closeness, intimacy. “S’big…” You lazily mumbled into the pillow. “I know, I know.” He crooned your neck just enough for him to lock your lips together again. “But you’re doing so good, taking me so well.” Letting you rest, he returned to focusing on the motion of setting a steady but not too rough pace, angling himself so that he hit that spot inside of you that had you whimpering again. He rewarded the noises by rolling you both onto the side, where he could wrap an arm around you like a tight hug, leg gently pulled over over his own so he had a better angle. Likely for the best, Leon was close already, he slowed down more, returning to simply rolling his hips as he trailed his hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your naval and thighs before rubbing at your clit for a bit as he kissed and sucked softly against your neck. He fucked you like he would’ve done to her, like you were his lover, the most important thing to him.

Your velvet walls felt like heaven as they squeezed against him, closer and closer to your own second orgasm. “That’s it baby.” He whispered hotly against your ear. “One more time for me, ok?” He sped up his fingers, feeling you tighten around him so much that he nearly felt his own eyes roll back. “G-good girl.” He praised, gripping your hip to speed up his own movements, his balls tightening as he came, cock throbbing as spurts of his seed painted your insides.

Leon held you like that for a while, curling in on you, offering soft praises as he nuzzled into your neck from behind. He didn’t move a muscle until your breath evened out completely, and he could tell by the low thrum of your heartbeat that you were incredibly close, if not already asleep. He looked up at the clock on the nightstand – 4:45am it read. He had about 20 more minutes max before someone from HQ would be sent in as backup, now that he’d been MIA for so long.

Now fully soft, he gently pulled himself out of you, and carefully rolled off the bed. He watched you for any more signs of movement as he buckled back up and redressed. There was that eerie silence settling over the house again, he felt heavy with the weight of the evening crushing against him like an invisible force. He wished for a moment that the world would swallow him up where he stood so he didn’t have to face his responsibilities, the consequences.

You looked peaceful laying there. He knew it was just the exhaustion, shock, and grief, that kept you tugged under the waves of unconsciousness, but for his own sake he pretended you were in a truly relaxed state. Moreso, he was glad you wouldn’t experience any more of that pain or fear tonight. Leon clicked the safety off the gun, watching you for any signs of movement. Not even a twitch as he cocked the gun again. He walked over, sitting at the side of the bed again, eyeing you over one more time. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a lot of things at that moment, his ex all over again, your future, another piece of the man he wanted to be. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this, you know?” He whispered, mostly to himself as he pressed the barrel of the pistol to the pillow.

He couldn’t look this time. He wouldn’t look this time. His chest tightened, having to take a moment to stop the bile trying to work its way up, and the urge to cry that had him wanting to heave against the floor. He grabbed his earpiece as he made his exit.

“This is Kennedy to HQ – the last target has been exterminated.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #please fucking read this

559 notes · View notes

cloudsmateria · 29 days

Text

cloud strife x reader - new kitten!

summary: you surprise cloud with a kitten when he comes back from a mission, but of course, he hates cats.

this is so fluffy and omg i loved writing it it was so cute. look at this grump ass guy

(not proofread but i will proofread it tomorrow)

"I'm back." Cloud says as he comes in through the door, propping his sword up by the door. Bags are dropping from his eyes, so tired he doesn't notice your malicious grin as you come up to him wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him on the nose.

"I missed you." You say, he flashes a smile of contentment as his arms go around your waist, pecking your forehead.

"I missed you too." You pull away, leaving the kitten you hid behind his back on his shoulder. He hears a mew from his shoulder, tiredly turning to the noise. "Shit!" He shouts, jolting back, his back hitting the door as you quickly catch the kitten in your hands. "What is that?!"

"Kitten." You smile, lifting it up to his face as he presses himself against the door more, turning his head away. "It's so cute isn't it?"

"I leave you alone... For 2 days..." He breathes, closing his eyes.

"Correct, your leaving liberates me to make good choices."

"Maybe you're so taken by your despair that you don't think." He says slowly gathering the courage to face the kitten.

"You're cute." You push it against his face, as he cups his hand underneath it and sighs, looking at it in his hands.

"I need a shower." He says, placing it on the bed and leaving.

"You're not mad, right?" You ask, following him into the bathroom

"No, I'm just exhausted." He says, turning on the hot water.

"You're mad."

"Get out."

You frown, respecting his wishes and returning to the kitten, holding her close to your face. "At least I have you." By the time he's done, you're laying on the bed with the kitten on your chest as he comes out in his sweatpants and black shirt. "Cloud?"

He sighs and sits on the bed beside you, reluctantly moving to pet the cat with stiff, nervous hands. You feel relief wash over your chest as he tries his best. "You can't stay mad at me for long."

"I'm not mad."

"Then look at me."

He looks at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. "What's the deal with the cat anyway?"

"I found her in a box on the side of the road, she was basically crying with her mews. I couldn't leave her there."

"But why do you have to keep it here? Why can't you give her to Aerith?"

"Because I love cats, this is our daughter now. We're parents!" You grin, hugging her close.

"You're ridiculous." He scoffs, laying down on his back, you take this as an invitation to curl up next to him and place the kitten on his chest.

"I know you're scared of cats."

"That is not true."

"You were acting like I threw a grenade on you." You giggle, he strokes the kitten's head more comfortably this time.

"We have enough scars as it is." And I have enough things taking up my girlfriend's attention, he thinks.

"Don't worry, she's a good girl. I was hoping you'd help me name her. What do you think about Empress of Despair?" He bursts out laughing.

"What?" He laughs.

"General Machine Gun."

"Where do you even get these names from?"

"Supreme Commander of the Kittens."

"Please stop."

"I have more." You grin. "Why are you laughing?"

"You’re ridiculous." He grins, his laughs calming down as you sit up on his waist.

"Why don't you come up with one then?" He looks down at the kitten, trying to think of something.

"How about... Cosmo?"

"So we're just naming her after a cocktail? That's disappointing, Cloud."

"Fine, how about..." He sighs. "Aerith?"

You snort. "Oh yeah, totally didn't see that coming. She's not an Aerith, she's a Cloud."

"That's a weird name for a cat."

"Not if it's a girl cat."

"Are you saying I have a girl's name?"

"Well..." You smile, he holds a hand over his heart as he groans in pain.

"The pain of it all, the betrayal."

"You certainly act like one."

"Ugh!" He jolts as if he's been punched. "Take it back." He groans, writhing in his place as the poor kitten stares confused at the both of you. You pick her up, laughing at him and getting off of his waist to sit with her in your lap.

"I think Cloud suits her well. Fluffy and white like a Cloud. Like both Clouds." You stroke the kitten's head.

"Really? She's stolen my girlfriend, and my name?"

"I think you should earn my affection back." You tease.

"Or we can just give the cat to Aerith and I keep my girlfriend."

"You're going to let Aerith steal the love of my life?"

"Love of your life, huh?" He smiles, sitting up.

"Of course! This is my offspring."

"You've only had her for a day and you're already forgetting about me. Come on, I just got back from a long mission and this is how you neglect me?"

"These are the responsibility that comes with having kids, sweetheart."

"I see how it is. Well, I'm sure that cat will love to see the inside of an alleyway again." He jokes.

"Don't listen to him, Cloud. He's not taking you."

"You don't know that." He reaches for her but you move back, defensively. He sighs. "Are we really going to keep her?"

"Yes, you have no choice."

"Well, I suppose having a kid with you wouldn't be so bad." Your stomach flutters at the statement. He shakes his head and laughs again. "You've taken over my apartment, my free time, my money, my friends and my autonomy."

"That's how girlfriends work."

"Psychopathic girlfriends."

"Watch your mouth before I take your will to live too."

"Too late, you took that a long time ago."

"What happened to the guy who was always blushing around me?"

"He was weak and died." He says. "And you're the psychopath that killed him." You snort, the way he's loosened up around you in the past few months of you dating has been surprising, but a wonderful side to him, being the only person he's this comfortable around. "What do I have to do to win you back?" He asks.

"1,000 gil." He laughs again. "Anything else?"

"A kiss."

"I'm not kissing a psychopath."

"Unfortunately," You smile, leaning over his face. "I've taken away your autonomy." He leans up to peck your lips, taking the cat out of your hands and sitting up. "Cloud Strife." You say seriously.

"Mhm." He hums, stroking the cat.

"Do you love me?"

"No." He says simply, still petting the kitten.

"So when you told me before the mission started that you loved me, that was a lie?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And when we-"

"Yes." He says, nodding his head, the serious expression on his face making it hard for you to keep a straight face.

"You're so mean."

"You were just going to try get more money out of me, which is ridiculous when I've just let you keep this kitten."

"You're admitting she's staying?"

He scoops the kitten up, holding her against his face. "If we're keeping her, she's sleeping on the floor."

"Poor General Grievous." He laughs again, this time there's a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Tifa walks in, her arms crossed. "What is going on in here? I don't think I've ever heard Cloud laugh in my life. It's terrifying. Y/n, what did you do to him?"

"This. This is what she did to me." Tifa sees the kitten in his hands, gasping, running over and grabbing her out of his hands. Followed by a series of repeated 'oh my gods' 'aww' 'she's so cute!'. You shake your head at Cloud.

"You've only had her 10 minutes and you've already let her get kidnapped."

"All part of the plan."

"What did you name her? Oh, she's so precious. She looks just like Fluffy did."

"Y/n's stuck between General Grievous and Cloud Strife."

"You're terrible."

"A good one just came to me! Buster!" Cloud said.

"Yes!" Tifa shouted.

"Fenrir!"

"No!"

"Okay, okay, how about General Nefarious," Cloud said, mimicking you.

"That's worse!" You say, throwing a pillow at his face.

"Buster. A good name for a kitten with two badass parents with two badass aunties." Tifa smiled.

"To clear it up, Cloud's a mommy and I'm a daddy and we're raising her to be the greatest kitten, no, creature in the universe." Cloud gave you a look of disgust, Tifa giggling as she played with the kitten.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me right away."

"If you like her that much, you can have her." Cloud said.

"Cloud!"

"That offer still stands." He mouths to Tifa, she smiles and puts Buster back on his lap.

"Well, I have work tomorrow so you can figure that out among yourselves. See you later, mommy." She said, kissing the kitten on the head and making her leave.

"This is what I get for letting her come in. She calls me mommy. I can't imagine how you could make my life any worse."

"I'll find a way, starting with letting you get some rest." You say, flipping the lights off, picking Buster up and going to put her in a makeshift box in the corner, made out of a box you found her in and blankets. You lay down beside him, and he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him, nuzzling into your neck.

"I hate you so much." He murmurs, kissing your neck, making your skin tingle.

"Oh really?"

"My girlfriend is the most annoying person in the world. It's not my fault."

"I'm going to make your life miserable."

"I've heard."

You roll your eyes, kissing him one final time. "Goodnight."

"Night."

"I love you."

"Liar."

...

The next morning, you wake up and see Cloud with Buster snoring on his chest and a hand cradling her back…

Maybe he does like cats.

a/n: this is kind of shit but it was such a fun fic to write

#cloud strife #cloud strife x reader #cloud x reader #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy 7 #ffvii remake #ff7 rebirth #cloud strife imagine #cloud strife x you #cloud strife fluff #cloud strife fanfiction #final fantasy fanfiction #final fantasy 7 x reader

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cloudsmateria · 29 days

Text

no because literally

I’m a feminist until there’s an X reader where Leon saves the reader.

Look I know damsel in distress is sterotypical but also, I’d like a big buff man specifically Leon Kennedy to save me.

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cloudsmateria · 1 month

Text

SERVICE CHARGE / LEON KENNEDY

6.5k words, based on this

cw: waitress f!reader, blackmail, stalker, power abuse, noncon, dubcon, (unprotected) p-in-v, fellatio, spanking, implied cunnilingus, dirty talk, corruption kink, breeding, lack of aftercare, mentions of blood (no bloodplay) / minors dni

a/n: big thanks to @xoxostarlet for beta reading! pls check out her work it's vry yummy! n thanks for 50+ follows!! also i hc this as post re4 leon bcs of my og drabble but it can be di/ vendetta leon too it works even bttr ok bye!!

Leon’s not quite sure why he’s so taken with you– a girl waitering at your family’s restaurant, a dingy place in the outskirts of the city. Maybe it’s because he’s a simple guy- sees a pretty, little thing and can’t help but fantasise about you. You’re younger than he’d like, but old enough to warrant his wandering gaze at the way your oil stained apron wraps around your perfect waist, at the knotted ribbon you always messily tie that rests on the swell of your cheeks. You’re practically an angel in his eyes, your halo the form of a sloppily tied hair bun that sits atop your head with unruly strands sticking out.

Maybe it’s because you’re quite a character- armed with rather polite comebacks and one liners that you dish out to ungrateful, difficult customers. Of course, you’re so well loved by the regulars (him included) that you barely have to lift a finger to kick them out yourself. Everyone here in this tiny family restaurant loved you, their perfect waitress with the perfect smile. You’re enthusiastic about your mundane job too, fast on your feet and even faster with your words when running through demanding orders.

Maybe it’s because you’re still so young that you have this amount of energy. Or maybe it’s because of the lack of hired hands that you had to work with ten times the amount of energy you should normally exert. He remembers caring more about details and the nitty gritty things when he was your age. But he digresses.

Whatever it is, he thinks you’re quite the charmer. You have him wrapped around your little finger, and he’d like to make it known to you. But the trouble lies in your denseness. You’re beyond saving with how each of his flirtatious comments would fly over your head, soar, even. With how clueless you were, it was a safe bet to assume you were a dumb little girl who had yet to have her cherry popped. Just a silly virgin playing the pretence of an adult.

Oh right, that’s another reason why he’s so taken by you. The idea of ruining you was exhilarating– worth the trouble of driving for half an hour after work to this hole in the wall just to see you. He finds himself wondering how you’d look bent over the tiny bathroom sink in the back of the shop, jeans pooling at your ankles as he eats your cute butt. Oh, how he’d love to unravel you with only a thin door separating you and your customers and parents.

He has to thank his superiors for meeting you. If it weren’t for that random party they held that night, he probably would never have touched this decrepit store. (For him, an hour away from home meant one less hour to kiss his bed.) That night you had introduced yourself as their waitress and patiently guided them through the menu with recommendations.

The waitress before him with quite the looker, pretty despite the mess on her apron and the sweat that clung to the nape of her neck. How old were you? In your late teens– or maybe your blossoming twenties? He searched your eyes for answers, while you tucked your loose hair behind your ear and waited patiently for his table to decide. He made small talk because that’s something he’s gotten good at with the ladies.

“Quite the establishment you’ve got running here.” He commented as he gestured at the rowdiness with his eyes. You snapped out of your frozen daze to meet his blue eyes. Was this hottie talking to you? You swallowed nervously and wrung your fingers together.

“Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly. “It’s always like this after eight til closing hours. These guys trod in here after work and take it out with booze.”

“I can see that. Your parents own the place, hun?” He asked.

“For twenty years. Going stronger than ever,” you nodded. He smiled and asked for your name, and you willingly gave it with a demure smile.

Your name fits you, perfect for an angel such as yourself, he thought. His coworkers paid you little attention in their drunken state; this was their second round of restaurant hopping. Leon had to remain sober to chauffeur them home, and he was glad that he was sober enough to see and not forget you. You wouldn’t become a blurred image, a forgotten ghost in his memories as a result of intoxication. He was glad he was the only one who would remember this encounter.

On the way out, he had an arm supporting his fallen coworker. You held the door open, not minding the men who leaned lifelessly against his car like mannequins. You seemed amused, casual about the blacked out group that left the store blacked out drunk. Must have seen it a lot, he assumed.

“Do patronise us again, Mr Kennedy. Preferably when it’s not rush hour,” you had chuckled lightly.

And if such a pretty girl like you asked so sweetly, who was he to deny you? So he came as often as he could. You were always busy with attending to other customers, barely having enough time to sacrifice for idle chatter. He needed idle chatter, enough to grow your curiosity in him to be interested.

To get your attention, he would pull out a lighter (an expired one of his, a convincing prop) and click it a few times, cigarette pursed between his lips. And somehow, miraculously over the sea of rowdy customers you always heard it. The clicking over the cacophony in the restaurant. And like clockwork, you would storm over to warn him not to smoke inside.

“Mr Kennedy!” You placed your hands on your hips, frowning. Your brows were scrunched up in a disapproving frown whilst a pout played on your lips.

“It’s Leon,” he said while pocketing the bud and lighter. The grin on his face of hardened features made him look way younger– but you snapped out of your thoughts to fold your arms across your chest.

“Well, Leon,” he shivered at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. A buttery sound, gentle but firm like your nature. “I told you we don’t allow smoking in our shop. If you want, there’s a quiet alley beside us for it.”

“I know, I know,” he shrugged, and you’d roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before asking for his order.

You placed his menu before him, and without opening it, he recited his usual. And this cycle occurred over and over again like a broken record. Your reactions were the same, albeit less exasperated each time as you got used to his antics. He could tell– he was starting to grow on you.

He would leave generous tips for you too thanks to his expandable wallet. You know, for the service charge. The first few visits you fought to return the money because even though you were poor and desperate, you weren’t going to accept hundreds like it was nothing!

“Mr Ke- Um, Leon. I really can’t accept this,” you shook your head and pushed the stack of bills to his chest.

“Just take it. For the great service.”

“I really can’t, you always leave me no choice.” You frowned but pocketed it anyway. Couldn’t argue with the man who loomed over you even with a counter separating him from you. It made you nervous, and you lacked the heart to push, unlike with other customers.

“Why can’t you?” The blonde asked as you showed him out. Holding the door with your back, you shook your head.

“My parents already think you’re a mafioso with the amount of money you tip. Anymore and I don’t know what they’ll make of you!”

Aw, you were concerned for him? Little ol’ him? He wanted to swipe a thumb over the pout playing on your plush lips and kiss you. Kiss you and lead you to the alleyway beside your family store and take you then and there. How would you react to that, he wondered? Would you be happy?

He was answered instantly when your eyes lit up at something behind him. He turned to see a beat down Toyota in the driveway, and a skinny guy clambered out with a backpack, books in hand. Your face glowed radiantly. Leon wondered what you saw in that awkward boy. You bid Leon goodbye with a stutter and led the boy in, leaving poor Leon to stand on the porch with a disgruntled expression and stinging in his chest. He knew the answer to his earlier question: probably not, because you already had a thing for someone else.

Leon visited again during one of your quieter shifts. During a weekday, on his time off. You sat in the corner of the store with the same boy while doing homework together. When he said something, your face lit up and you laughed toothily. A genuine, earnest and bright smile. Something he never got to witness, receiving only your customer service smiles when he cracked his best jokes for you.

But he couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at you for long. It couldn’t be helped that you were just a doe-eyed girl who didn’t know how to appreciate him. No matter, he could teach you how. Since you were lacking the brain cells to even try. But first, he had to do something about that boy.

It was easier than stealing candy from a baby. Just a few documents and the boy’s home was evicted. He knew the rest, but as you sat across Leon, face buried in your arms as you shared the story, he listened. It was like playing a video game and being spoiled of its ending. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave your side as you sniffled about your new ex-boyfriend. Your first one, too. He really helped you dodge a bullet, and you should be thanking him instead of ruining his dinner table with your tears. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but he swallowed it.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, even though there was no one else in the store but you two. (And your parents as they watched from the kitchen. His eyes met theirs, and they whispered not so discreetly to one another and he smirked.) He patted your head, and you flinched at the unexpected weight on your head. He mussed your hair with a (fake) smile.

“It’s all gonna work out, I promise.”

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed. But you nodded anyway. Good, as you should. You need not question him; just listen and obey.

Months easily passed as he played this game of cat and mouse with you. You, the unsuspecting mouse, who had grown to trust him. Fondly, maybe. He knew what you saw in him- a reliable, honest regular who gave you good advice and helped you at times in need. And it was true, from the goodness of his heart, he was at your every beck and call. And he would be forevermore, even if you rebuked him to the depths of hell, where he rightfully belonged.

So one day, when you looked worse for wear, he asked if something was up. You shared with a tired smile that you’ve been struggling to focus in class lately due to the influx of new customers. A food critic had written a blog post about the store and business boomed. He had to find out who the culprit was and take down their site, but that was for later.

He perked up when you shared that you wanted to put flyers around the neighbourhood to hire more workers. So he offered to help. He had a car, so he could spread the word further and get the job done faster than on foot, he reasoned.

“Thank you so much. You’re the best, Leon!”

Your eyes shone with relief and you threw your arms around him. He caught you, albeit with surprise. You showered him with gratitude while clinging to him as he sat, shellshocked in his seat.

Your first hug. Your curves were soft against his hardened one, and his hands itched to hug you back, to trail down your smaller body and feel you through your work clothes. But Leon steadied himself- he had to win the game in the long run, he couldn’t afford to drop out of the race so soon. The blonde retreated his hands and cleared his throat, and you practically crawled off him. Your hand bumped into the tent between his pants, but thankfully you were too flustered to notice.

“U-Um, I’ll pay you back,” you had said, and you offered him a shy smile. “Not that I have much but I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

“How about a kiss?” He prompted with a lopsided smile. Oops, that was an impulsive move. Like chasing the king’s piece while neglecting the imposing queen a few tiles away. Said queen being your parents, who stared at you disapprovingly like you had shed your angelic wings for those of a demon’s.

Your mouth gaped open for a moment but then you shook your head. “You shouldn’t tease me,” you whispered, hands rubbing your arms awkwardly.

His face fell, but he recovered with a boyish grin.

“Just pulling your leg. ‘S all good!”

It wasn’t good. His plans crumbled because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Now it was awkward between you two. He found the papers you put up yourself and threw them onto the passenger seat, a messy pile with the share you had given him for his part. He clicked his tongue and shredded the flyers that you painstakingly designed, tossing the pieces out the window as he raced down the highway home in his car. He had to push harder, find other ways to corner you so you wouldn't be able to refuse him. Not again.

Once he reached home, he practically inhaled his shirt, where your scent faintly clung. It was intoxicating, the heat of your body pressed against his and the smell of your sweat mixed with your natural scent. God, you knew how to rile him up without even trying. His cock was painfully hard in his fist as he laid on his bed, stroking himself with his jacket to his face.

When he arrived at the establishment the next day he found you in the back– in the kitchen– where you hung your head in shame while scrubbing dishes. He had caused quite the scene in the store; your father had mustered the courage to warn him (albeit politely) not to lay a hand on his precious daughter. It was quite funny, the man shook like a leaf as he weakly poked a finger into Leon’s chest. It was astonishing and hilarious at how his voice choked whilst dishing out empty threats of what he’d do to Leon if he messed with his girl. All the while your back faced him, unwilling to speak for the next few weeks.

Your parents had taken it on themselves to switch shifts with you whenever he appeared. They practically had his visiting hours memorised too, so it wasn’t like he could waltz in whenever he pleased. They were a pain, an overprotective bunch. For a grown up miss like yourself, it was a wonder why they were still so protective. Probably because they could recognise a wolf in sheep's clothing the moment he walked into their restaurant a second time, eyes prowling until they landed on you.

It mattered not because he would have his way whether they approved or not. He needed no consent form, and not from you either.

…

Your family’s restaurant was on the ground floor of a little building you stayed in. Your residency was located on the second floor, off limits to customers by a locked door. Nothing a little lock picking could solve, thankfully.

Nobody but you was home, he made sure of that when he saw your parents leave in their car. He wasn’t quite sure where you were, but when the sound of running water leaked into the empty hallway, a smile creeped onto his face. His eyes fell on one door that was coloured differently from the rest. There you were. The door creaked ajar, and he peered from the thin gap to see you standing in a glass box. It was humid, water vapour swirled around the bathroom whilst condensation fogged the shower, leaving him little but enough to see.

The shower was turned off, and your hands mindlessly trailed down your body as you scrubbed it with a loofa. You bent over, reaching for your toes, and Leon almost burst in to take you there himself. The growing tightness in his pants hurt, and hell your perfect ass was beckoning him like a sailor to a siren’s call. You hummed softly, blissfully unaware of the man ogling your flushed, naked body.

He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he shakily took out his phone. The sound of the camera clicking was muffled by the echoing sound of the shower as you sung your silly song. When he had his fill, he took one last longing glance before closing the door behind him.

Women spend forever in showers. Assuming this, he snuck into your room. It was simple, save for the abnormal mountains of plushies that lined your bed and your shelves. Japanese merchandise everywhere– he recognised a smaller white bear next to a much bigger brown one. Rilakkuma, or something. You had quite the collection. Were you fans of those bears? Should he gift you some? Ah, but your parents would toss them into the fire. As his mind somersaulted from one reckless thought to another, he noticed a laundry basket in the corner of your room.

He sauntered over and peered at its contents with sparkling blue eyes. He lifted your sweaters and produced a white one with a pink bow on the front. Your used panties. His heart hammered in his chest as he held it with trembling fingers. The blonde sniffed the damp patch on the gusset and groaned. His dick was already aching to be freed earlier when he saw you in the shower. Now his balls were clenching and screaming for release.

But it would be a waste to stop now. He didn’t know when you would return. So he pocketed the article of clothing and continued rummaging through your possessions.

He even went through your closet to inspect your collection. What were you into? Did you have a specific brand you frequented? Did you prefer lace or silk? Or cotton, like the one snug and warm in his pocket?

He found a matching set of lace underwear sat in the back of a drawer, a translucent design with roses and ribbons. He inspected it curiously– were you waiting to use them? Were you planning on wearing this for your ex-boyfriend? His lips curled into a snarl. It was a good thing he had gotten the kid off your radar. He couldn’t afford to let anyone see you in such scandalous lingerie. Only he should have the privilege of doing so. His mind raced with thoughts as he traced a finger along the strap of your bra.

Then your door creaked and you swung it open. He turned his head to see you, standing at the doorway wrapped in a fluffy towel that hugged your chest and hung above your knees. Your wet hair clung to your face, rivulets cascaded down your flushed skin. When your eyes met his, you froze. Wide eyes met his.

Uh oh.

Before you could scream, Leon lurched forward and clamped a hand over your mouth. He shushed you softly, mirroring your wide eyed expression.

“I know it looks bad,” he whispered. The force against your mouth prevented you from speaking. You began trembling as his lips inched closer, “But I don’t mean any harm.”

“Mmhmm?!” You mumbled against his palm. He withdrew and you gasped, stepping back while hugging your damp, shivering frame. “Leon, you can’t be here. This- This level is off limits to customers!”

“But I’m not just a customer,” he spread his arms. He slowly approached, footsteps thudding against the carpet, “And c’mon, you like me, right?”

Your eyes were ready to pop out of your skull. “Like you? I mean- Yes but- but not like- Like…” You squeaked as your back thumped against your door. Your hand reached behind and blindly searched for the doorknob. When you finally caught it, the blonde slammed a hand beside your head.

His face inched forward, a frown contorted on his handsome, hardened features. “Like what?” He breathed. You shivered at his warm breath fanning your cold skin. Hesitation paralysed your tongue, and as you struggled to speak, he clasped your jaw with his hand. His questioning, cold gaze was unlike the usual warmth he carried. And it scared you. You swallowed and choked out.

“...Not like lovers.”

A silence ensued between the two of you. The birds outside your window chirped with fervour, as if you weren’t cornered by your customer whom you had grown to trust over the past couple of months. His thick brows knitted tightly against his forehead as he gripped your jaw harshly. You winced, his bruising touch hurt and your hands clawed at his wrist. His nose wrinkled with displeasure as his eyes darkened. He was disappointed, but he couldn’t deny that he saw it coming. Didn’t sting any less.

“So that’s what you think of me,” he spat. Then he smashed his lips against yours and yanked your towel off your body. Your hands flew to his chest as you desperately pushed, a muffled scream on your lips as you resisted. Leon gripped your wrists and slammed them over your head against the door whilst slotting a knee between your trembling legs.

You tried to shout but he shoved his tongue into your mouth and embraced yours in a passionate tango. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t stop him as he shut you up with fervent kisses that sent shocks down your spine. His knee rubbed against your slit, and he bumped into your clit purposefully, eliciting a whine from your saliva stained lips. He pulled away to look at you– and gods, you were so beautiful. So pliant for him, so–

“Help!”

You screamed at the top of your lungs. But your head snapped to the side, and you stared blankly at his shoes. Your cheek stung, pulsating with a dull throb as you placed a hand over where he had slapped you. Tears welled up in your eyes and you refused to look up at him. You tried to run again, but this time he dragged you over to your bed and pushed you down.

Then he flipped open his phone and showed you his photos. You gaped in shock at the hundreds of blurry yet distinct shower pics in his album. The focal point? You.

He met your concerned gaze with a half-lidded one. He spoke quietly and slowly as he held the device over your face.

“You can run, but all it takes is one push and I’ll have this photo publicised everywhere. You wouldn’t want to ruin your parent’s business… right?”

More tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled with a sob. He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Lashes fluttered close as your tears slid down your damp cheeks while the water from your undried hair seeped into your sheets. His voice was a broken record as your vision darkened.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright…”

The rest was a blur. All you remembered was foggy vision and searing skin. But Leon remembered it all. You put up quite an impressive fight for a little girl like you. You had landed a blow in his temple and sent him reeling into your bed frame. But you were too weak to run, thanks to all the love bites he left around your inner thighs and legs that left you tingly and numb. You tried to crawl away, but even then it was pointless.

For the most part, you were pretty compliant. Like the good girl you were, you spread your legs prettily when asked and even nursed his cock with your lewd tongue, eyes glazed with tears and self-hate whilst he ate your pussy out. Hell, the rumours were true. Virgins gave the best head. You let him cum down your throat too, like the good girl you were. Your mouth pussy was so tight that he swore he saw angels flapping above him. And the cherry on top was when he finally hilted inside you, becoming one at last.

You laid quietly on his chest as he stroked your hair. It was damp, unlike your body which blazed with an ungodly heat that only hell could compete with. Your heart thumped in your chest, a rhythm unmatched with Leon’s. You couldn’t see his face, and it was probably best this way.

He was your first– a fact you had to come to terms with. You sniffled softly. Even though he forced himself on you, he still made sure to make it not hurt too much. It was too easy to give in to his touches– so you failed to put up a decent struggle. A single tear slid down your flushed cheek. You hated that he was so gentle yet so cruel with you.

For Leon, you would be his last, because he swore he’d never let go of you. He would make you his. Physically first, emotionally second, whatever the order mattered little to him. Because you were now bound to him, your souls intertwined in ways your bodies could never attempt to achieve.

He stared up at the ceiling. There was so much to do, and so much time now that you were his. Today felt good. Great. Pride glowed in his chest and he kissed your damp hair tenderly. You were finally his. Finally his to take and to train.

…

“L-Leon!” you squealed, clawing at the sink that he had bent you over. Jeans and panties pooled at your ankles, sitting on your dirty sneakers. Your lips were bleeding because you bit them to stop your screams.

You always had the wildest reactions to whatever he did. Was it because you were a nervous wreck? It’s been barely a month since he started breaking you in. Quite a bit of time to get accustomed to his antics. Looks like you needed more practice, he mentally noted.

“Shut up,” he hissed, rising to his full length to tower over you. His chest pressed against your back, and you whined at the heat pressed between your butt. “Be quiet or they’re gonna find us.”

You held his gaze in the bathroom mirror, and he placed his hands over yours as you still gripped the sink. Your hair had come undone, a mess that framed your flushed face as you panted softly. Goodness, you looked like a wreck. No thanks to the smug bastard behind you.

The blonde took pride in his work and belted out a laugh. A smack on your ass reeled you over the sink again, and you glared at him. Your eyes screamed: aren’t you a hypocrite? But he answered with a boyish grin that gave you butterflies. The damned smile of the devil himself.

His zipper travelled south and he popped himself out of his pants. He stroked it mindlessly before spinning you around so that you faced him. You stared at him incredulously and he gestured with a nod of his chin.

Leon needed no words, you knew what he wanted. Your bare knees hit the sticky bathroom tiles as you knelt, on tiles where its corners were cracked and filled with dirt that religiously lined its crevices. You took his semi-hard on in your little hand, and it twitched to stand at full length. It curved towards his toned abdomen, jumping in your loose hold. The head was flushed, beads of precum dotted the circumference of the tip.

You looked up at him and licked tentatively. He inhaled through his teeth as you gave him puppy licks, teasing the tip with the curve of your tongue while languidly stroking his cock. His hands carded through your hair, pushing back your stray hairs so that he could see you better. So pretty and willing for him, he grinned, and so eager to please.

A broken moan fell from his lips as you suckled on the tip like a baby on a pacifier. He tugged your hair backwards, and you frowned at him but took him in your mouth fully. You swallowed around his length, and it jumped in your throat as he clamped a hand on your head. He held you steady as he thrust his hips, fucking your throat deep and slow like he liked. He was never the kind of guy to rush a process in sex. Not when your mouth pussy was the perfect toy in the world. All for him to monopolise and use.

He chewed on his bottom lip and groaned. “So good. ‘S perfect for me, shit- Good girl. Taking my cock with your mouth so well- fuck…” He babbled mindlessly, drowning in his pleasure as you clutched the back of his ankles. You gripped onto the scratchy fabric with your fingernails and moaned around his length. Suddenly, somebody knocked.

“Hey. Are you there, (y/n)?” Your father called out. You stared up at Leon in terror, but he was too preoccupied with your throat hugging his dick to even care. You gagged when he jabbed his dick against your gummy walls.

You glared at him with teary eyes, and he gestured at your nose- no doubt reminding you to breathe with it. Gently slapping his legs, you tried to free yourself with a warning look. Leon rolled his eyes and called out, “You’ve got the wrong person. It’s just me.”

“Oh-” your dad recognised him, and he hesitated before saying, this time louder. “(y/n)’s missing, I can’t find her anywhere.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s upstairs,” He grinned as he thrust into your mouth. You gagged again, and he chuckled softly as he stroked the top of your head. “Perhaps she’s taking a shower.”

As if something clicked in you, your eyes widened in fear and you tried to pull away frantically. Not that he’d let you, as he held your head in place from the back, fingers tangled with your hair as he dug his blunt nails into your scalp. A warning to remind you of your place. You complied with a weakened grasp on his pants as you lowered your eyes.

Your father muttered incoherently before stomping away. When a minute passed, Leon finally pulled out and you gasped exaggeratedly, a hand rubbing your sore throat.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes,” you whisper shouted through coughs. The fight in your eyes had returned as you leaned against the wall, pants still pooled around your ankles. The man you mistook for a kind person was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along, a ravenous beast that ravaged you whenever he fancied. You knew that now. If only you had known sooner, then you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess.

“You know you like it,” he said in a sing song voice. You crinkled your forehead as he lowered the toilet seat cover and sat on top of it.

He spread his legs and leaned back. His dick twitched against his stomach. Its length shined with your saliva and blood from your busted lips. Your chest tightened as he coaxed you with the wave of his hand.

“C’mon, finish what you started.”

…

Your parents were on to the two of you faster than he’d expected. There was one time when he almost found Leon and you in the restaurant’s kitchen. If it weren’t for the locked door, he was sure your dad (if he could muster the strength) would chop his balls off and frame them above his bed like a banner. That was how much he had grown to detest the regular, evident in the way he would wordlessly slam his dishes down on his table. Maybe he knew what had transpired in the toilet that day. How he fucked your ass and brains out in the toilet til you were a whimpering, unthinking mess. The store had to close for the day because of the lack of help on the sales floor.

Your dad even refused the fat tips for his wonderful service. Oh, whatever shall Leon do?

Your mother was also a bit of a tough crowd. Eyes sharp with distrust, always keeping her daughter by her side in the kitchen. Her death grip on the butcher knife would’ve been frightening if it weren’t for her trembling knees when he gazed her way. Maybe she also knew of that one time he made you squirt in your parent's room, coating their bedroom mirror with your shared fluids as he pressed you against it. Quite the overprotective parents they were.

And for the other regulars, they continued fantasising about their lovely waitress. Not knowing that she was taken by a traitor among them, a guy that kept to himself in the corners, lighter in hand as he lured your attention as always. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you always found yourself in his arms time and time again.

Your parents were in their room next door as you sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. Two bodies clung desperately together, wrapped in a sweaty embrace as he cupped your plush ass cheeks in his hands, hoisting you up and then dropping you so you’d slam down on his length. His eyes, muddied with desire, were locked with yours as your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. A pile of underwear, his and yours– the lacey one with roses and ribbons (from ages ago)– were tangled on the carpet indiscreetly.

Your hands wandered up and down his scarred back. The tip of his cock jabbed against your cervix, and you whimpered against his lips. Fingernails dug into the scar on his shoulder, an indented wound that caused him to exhale through gritted teeth.

“Leon-” you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. Your nose bumped into his as he bounced you, “-I love you. I love- mhn… love you so much…”

The blonde could barely hear your muffled words over the incessant creaking of your bed. But he nuzzled your nose, a smile playing on his flushed face.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “Love you so much, baby.”

He slowed down his ministries and embraced your lips with delicate kisses. With his twitching cock buried in the depths of your sticky, pulsing cunt, you moaned his name and angled your head for more. Your arms wrapped around his neck in a loose embrace as you stayed like this, sloppily kissing while basking in the moonlight that seeped from your curtains.

You grinded your softness against his body, chest mushed on his sweaty pectorals. A mewl fell from your swollen lips as you gazed at him longingly. “More, need more.”

“Fuck,” he inhaled shakily. He swiped his thumb under the crease of your eye. “You’re such a needy thing. Drunk on my cock this quick already, hm?”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, “‘Cause it’s you.”

The man laughed quietly– he swore there were butterflies in his stomach. They fluttered around in his depths as if he wasn’t currently balls deep in you. God, he was so whipped for you. He was such a lucky man– he didn’t deserve your smile.

He carefully flipped you over and placed you on your knees. You rested your head on the sheets, leaned forward to tilt your butt towards him. It rested on your crack, and a giggle bubbled from you when you wriggled against his cock. A playful smack on one cheek echoed in your room. You would shoot him death glares whenever he did that. But today you moaned into the sheets and smooshed your ass against his torso for more.

Fuck, he grimaced. How did you get this lewd? Oh it was thanks to him. With his ego mightily stoked, he chuckled and soothed the hand mark with another.

Leon gripped your waist with one hand, another spreading your cheeks to get a better view as he slid himself into your wetness. You were always a tight fuck, gripping hard enough to snap him in half, but today’s descent into you had him arching his own back in bliss. It was like you were trying to milk his balls worth, like you wanted a bun in the oven tonight.

You gritted your sheets in your teeth, strings of drool snaking down your chin as your body rocked up and down the bed. Muffled moans rose in pitch as he speared your insides, his hipbone smashing into your jiggling ass with the relentless snapping of his hips. Dishevelled threads of blonde hair hung over his tightly lidded eyes, bouncing as he chased his high.

“Fuck fuck fuck. I love you. You’re mine-” he rambled as he slammed into your womb punishingly. “-Gonna breed you with my kids. You want that? Fuck, say you want it!”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you babbled his name brokenly. Garbled ‘yes’s fell from your quivering lips, and he snaked a hand under you to slap your clit with his calloused, scarred palm. You gasped and he shoved your head into the mattress when you cried his name in pleasure. A few more slaps and you were trembling like a leaf, your upper body totally collapsed onto the bed like a used doll. Your walls gripped him tightly, ripping out a deep moan from Leon. Then he pressed his hips flushed to your quivering butt and emptied his seed into you.

The warmth in your belly was comforting, the heat spread to the rest of your body as you hummed softly in approval. You collapsed entirely on the bed, and his dick slipped out with a soft sound. Stained with rings of cream, it hung limply between his toned thighs, and you weakly crawled over to run your tongue along one of its veins.

Leon’s cock twitched on your tongue. Amused, he took his phone and snapped a picture of you. He held the screen beside your face, gazing at the matching blissed out expressions you carried in both. He pushed your hair behind your ear as you nuzzled against his leg. Your eyes began fluttering shut, and he gently adjusted your limp body so that you laid down beside him. He pulled your blanket over the two of you and held you flushed to his chest. Your breathing slowed to a steady pace, and he pecked your forehead with his lips.

You deserved a bigger tip the next time he visited. For your generous customer service. He made a mental note and closed his eyes, too tired to care about the rattling of your doorknob across the room.

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

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cloudsmateria · 1 month

Text

this is soo cute 😭😭

CHAPTER II

- MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

← chapter one

series master-list can be found here!

summary: the night of your brother’s annual birthday ball takes an unexpected turn

paring: knight! clive rosfield x princess! reader

word count: 9,613

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI! you will be BLOCKED!) heavy plot, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving) handjob, power imbalance, dirty talk, spit, slight humiliation kink, parental loss.

disclaimer(s): although this series is inspired by the medieval and regency time periods, they are not 1:1 representations. although i will always do my best to represent both as accurately as possible, there may be some minor changes.

some of the plot points in the original game story have been altered or taken out to fit this au better. there are no eikons

a/n: i want to dedicate this chapter to my AMAZING friend, and fellow writer, jordy (@cryptictongues) who not only let me bounce ideas off her constantly, but also beta read some of this chapter as well. thank you for everything!!!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and art is by edmund blair leighton

A month or so passed since your last tryst with Clive, leaving the relationship between the two of you to be strained with pent-up tension. In light of the momentary heat of passion, you both agreed that such conduct would be better kept private, in places where no wandering eyes could intrude, so as to not arouse any more suspicion. There were to be absolutely no dubious behaviors in public, which proved to be undoubtedly difficult.

With every promenade you'd take around the castle grounds, you'd see him training, all sweaty and flush in his fit form, and all you'd be able to think about was mounting him then and there, riding him until you were both run ragged.

Your confidants and lady's maid have caught your prolonged glances during your strolls in the sunshine, but you've always met their accusations with a dismissive flap of your hand fan, stating that you were "simply curious about the training regiment that the knights were conducting," even if your eyes always lingered on one knight in particular. Baddies

There was talk around the palace for a while about the sudden disappearance of a certain scullery maid, but seeing as the crown had more pressing matters to deal with than the loss of a single maid, one who could easily be replaced, any investigation resulted in the conclusion that she had simply "fleed her duties," and it was left at that.

In reality, though, you had visited her late in the night after your passionate affair with Clive many moons ago, offering to pay off her debts and then some if she swore to secrecy that nothing she saw that night would make its way into the ears of the public.

The amount of gil being offered was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Seeing as your father amassed insurmountable fortunes during his reign, idle gossip wasn't worth the consequences if she were to be found out as the source of the rumor, so she took the small fortune and fled the palace walls that very same night.

Now you find yourself sitting in another store room, one that's presumed to be in less use than the previous one, perched upon an old barrel.

A royal ball was in attendance, and all nobility within the realm were invited. The occasion? Your younger brother and future heir to the throne's birthday. He reached the tender age of one and twenty, which just so happens to be the legal age of marriage in your country, so, of course, your father invited all the reputable debutantes in the realm in hopes that your brother would secure a future queen, though he'd never admit to such schemes out loud.

You were hoping that tonight would be another secret rendezvous with your lover, but you haven't so much as gotten a single word with him all evening.

All you had thought about during the preparation was how you were going to tease him throughout the night. The gown you had selected to wear was chosen with him in mind. The silhouette hugged your figure to perfection, and your cleavage was heavily accentuated in the lavender muslin. The hem was detailed with a layer of tulle tulips, and crystals of various sizes decorated the bustline. Put simply, you looked ravishing—the epitome of the most elegantly cut diamond.

Your father would spare no expense when it came to his son's birthday ball, so you were in luck to some degree, but the only man whose eyes you wanted on you was nowhere to be found.

The ball was supposed to provide perfect cover. All the orderly staff would be at your father's beck and call all evening, and he'd be too busy showing off your brother like a prized chocobo to notice your disappearance, leaving you to your own devices after a certain amount of time.

You and Clive would be able to sneak off without a trace or care in the world, but for some reason, every man of nobility just happened to be extremely insistent upon getting in at least one dance with you, all whilst having meaningless conversations regarding topics you couldn't bother yourself with caring about.

The ball started off well enough. You knew you couldn't immediately disappear into the shadows; you owed both your father and brother a dance to start the evening, as was tradition for the royal balls in your country.

The three of you walked out into the ballroom together. Your father went first, then you and your brother in succession.

The room was lavish, as it often was whenever such events were hosted in your kingdom. Multiple chandeliers holding long wax candles filled the ceiling, and the light reflecting off the gems on your gown made you shine beautifully. A golden hue encapsulates the entire room, casting wispy shadows and twinkling shapes on the hardwood floor. Your family emblem was painted in stark white chalk at the center of it. Various flowers from the royal gardens hung in sconces around the perimeter of the room, with vines filling out the empty space in between. Fine fabric in your kingdom's colors was draped over the windows in high arch shapes.

Scanning the room, you look for where to make your grand escape. After a few dances and perhaps some intermingling at the refreshments table, you'd be skittering along the ballroom walls, hiding in the shadows, before making your exit.

There was still a short amount of time before the guests started to file in, so after the final touches were made to the decorations, you took your place on the dais next to your family, with your father in the center and your brother to your right.

The royal knights line up in front of the small stage, and though Clive is always the pinnacle of orderliness while on duty—excellent posture and great form—you swear that you catch his eye as he files inside the room. He's not so careless as to let his emotions wear on his face while in the presence of others, especially your father and the Lord Commander, but you're certain that the slightest tinge of pink floods his cheeks at the sight of you.

As the knights continue to get into position, your gaze falls upon Clive's shaggy hair, reminiscing about how the thick yet soft tendrils felt between the length of your fingers as he made his presence known between your legs moons prior.

Your father's voice reels you back from your fantasies as you clear your throat slightly and hope that the bright lights of the chandelier won't give way to your previous thoughts.

Nobles from all across the realm begin to file in and make their greetings, some familiar and some new. A part of you is surprised that all these people traveled from their home countries just to visit your brother, but you supposed that none of the nations wanted bad blood between your kingdom and theirs.

After all the introductions were made, your father began his long-winded speech about your brother, the future of the country, and how proud he is of how far his children have come. The smile plastered on your face feels stiff, and your thighs feel as though they're about to collapse from the amount of curtsying you've been forced to do.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you're granted some relief from the spotlight while the band sets up on the stage where you and your family previously resided.

You make your way over to the refreshment table, nodding and curtseying to the fellow noble ladies as you make your way over to procure yourself a glass of iced lemonade.

It was not even three seconds later that your father was introducing you to some nobleman.

"Dearest daughter," he starts. You take a deep breath and settle your princessly smile on your face once more before turning around.

"I'd be pleased to introduce you to the Archduke of Rosaria and his mother." You gaze upon the both of them; this is the first meeting you've had with the current Archduke of Rosaria. You met the previous archduke, Elwin, when you were still of tender age, before your brother was born. You scantly recall the details of the meeting, only that he gifted both you and your mother bouquets of Rosarian wildflowers and that he had a penchant for making you laugh (as later on confirmed by your mother).

It's clear, though, that the man standing before you bears no resemblance to his father, sharing the same icy eyes and pale hair as his mother.

"His Imperial and Royal Highness, Joshua, the Archduke of Rosaria, and her Imperial and Royal Highness, Annabella, the Dowager Archduchess of Rosaria," your father continues, giving you room to make your formal introductions.

"It is an honor, your Highness," you state, giving a swift curtsey to the both of them, and although Annabella merely nods to you in acknowledgment, her son gives a full bow in return.

"Come now, Joshua. There's no need for that," she chastises, as if her son were still a child and not a grown man.

"But mother, how could I not marvel at the beauty bestowed upon me?" He responds in full. At your astonishment at his bold declaration, he takes your gloved hand into his own and presses a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Might I say that your gown looks exquisite tonight, my lady? You shine bright like a diamond." Both you and the Dowager Archduchess share a similar look of shock on your faces, and even though you can't see your father's expression from behind you, you're sure that he mirrors both of yours.

Heat floods your face as your eyes meet Joshua's, then his mother's, and although their eyes bear the same shade of cerulean, her gaze pierces through you like daggers of ice, whereas the strawberry blonde beside her carries a lot more warmth.

Time stands still, and you wonder if such flirtations were a product of his father, seeing as his mother held very little kindness or regard in her heart.

You feel your father's hands on your shoulders and realize you've spent the last minute or so gawking at Joshua and his display.

"Please forgive my daughter; she isn't used to such blatant declarations of affection from esteemed gentlemen." It's at your father's statement that your brain kicks back into gear. Your hand is withdrawn, and an immediate curtsey follows in its place.

"My sincerest apologies, Your Highness." As you raise your head, your eyes meet Clive's just across the way from behind Joshua, but he's quick to refocus and march forward in front of him.

"No apology is necessary," the Archduke smiles, "though if you truly wish to win my forgiveness, you'll allow me your hand in a dance."

Before you even get the chance to respond, Annabella interrupts, "Joshua, you mustn't. Think of your health."

"Mother," a domineering smile plasters itself on Joshua's face, "certainly I have enough energy to last me at least one dance with the most elegant princess in all of Valisthea."

Annabella sends another harsh glance toward her son before muttering, "Of course," and taking her leave elsewhere.

Joshua heaves a heavy sigh before extending his hand, silently asking for your dance card. You raise your wrist and allow him to pencil himself in before he gives one final bow, and retreats toward his inconsolable mother.

Your father exhales the breath you were unaware he was holding when the band gets in position for their first song. Both you and your father take place in the center of the ballroom as the first dance of the evening.

You couldn't help but notice as you scanned the faces in the surrounding audience that someone was missing. As the starting notes boomed from the instruments, you whisper to your father, "Papa, where's Dion?"

Prince Dion, next in line to be the Emperor of Sanbreque, had grown to be one of your close friends—well, as close of a friend as a princess could have when confined to castle walls for most of her life. You were close in age, and given that there weren't as many young heirs throughout the realm at the time of your childhood, it was only natural that the two of you would become fast friends.

Rumors quickly spread that you and Dion would become betrothed when you were older, securing an indisputable alliance between both nations, but as the years trickled on and both of you came of age, no such proposals were made. After he became leader of the dragoons, it was apparent that one such proposal would never come, but you weren't deterred; if anything, you were relieved.

You held love for Dion in your heart; you'd known each other since you were children, but the love you held wasn't the type of love fostered between two individuals who were passionate about each other romantically.

Your father's face held a quick grimace before lowering his voice as the two of you prepared to take your first steps in tune together. "Dion is busy preparing for a war effort; he sends his regards."

"What?" You mutter, trying to keep the look of shock from developing on your face.

Though you and Dion couldn't frequently meet in person, the two of you penned missives back and forth. In none of your most recent correspondence with each other, had he mentioned anything in regards to an oncoming war.

Your father wasn't a gossip, but being the ruler of an entire kingdom, one must be well knowledgeable about the state of other nations.

He lowers his voice even further: "It seems that the King of Waloed is insistent on reclaiming his territory from Sanbreque."

"Dion never mentioned anything of the sort in his letters."

Your father gives you a lopsided smile in an attempt to reassure you: "He probably didn't want to worry you unnecessarily, especially with the ball coming up."

Your father was more than likely correct in his assumptions, but you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach.

"I'm sure Dion will be alright," he adds, brushing his thumb over your hand after noticing the newfound stiffness in your movements.

You nod. Dion was and is strong; he turned the tides for Sanbreque in battle many a time before. This was a fact, but something about him having to go against Waloed's army shakes you to your core.

Your father and the king of Waloed, Barnabas Tharmr, were amiable allies for the most part, but you've heard stories, many in particular when he visited your kingdom after the death of your mother. You were still young then, so you couldn't quite grasp the weight and meaning of the whispers your handmaidens had shared in secrecy upon his arrival.

He visited annually for some years after his initial visit before they died down altogether, though you could never ascertain what the meetings were for besides the first one.

Barnabas was kind enough, as one of his nature could be on his trip, but you could never help the feeling that something more sinister lingered beneath the surface when your young eyes met his.

You did your best to quell the unease in your heart and continued to dance with your father. Although he had gotten up there in years, he still moved swiftly across the ballroom floor, even if you had to slow your steps a bit.

It seemed that just as soon as the dance with your father began, it was over, and you were anxiously anticipating the next dance with your brother. You go hand in hand with him while the band begins to play.

"So, Crown Prince," you begin, filling the air in an attempt to quell your nerves. "Future heir to the throne, how does it feel to be Papa's favorite?" You smile, albeit teasingly.

"Surely you jest, dear sister. For without you, I'd be hopeless."

"Now who's jesting?" Your grin graces your face once more as the two of you glide across the ballroom before a somber expression soon replaces your previous jubilant one. "It pains me to think that this ball may be the last time we see each other like this."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Look at all the people here," you whisper to him, "surely you don't think Father is just merely celebrating your birthday. You're twenty-one years of age now, dear brother; officially legal to be wed."

"You don't truly think he'd see to it that I'd be married right away, do you?

You both twirl around, and your father comes into view, standing next to the royal guard.

"Maybe not right away, but you know how he is. Ever since Mama died, all he's wanted is to see our futures secured, and in your case, our bloodline. If that means marrying us off early, then so be it, I suppose. At least you have the luxury of choices in who you'll marry."

"Then how come you weren't married off as soon as you came of age?"

"Because you still needed me. You had no mother to set an example, so I needed to be in your life to show you how proper noble ladies should act," you snirk as he rolls his eyes. "If I'm speaking honestly, I feel the answer is more sentimental than logical. I don't think Father wanted to lose another member of our family before we were both of breeding age."

"I suppose you're right. It's more than what most fathers would do. Now that I'm able to be wed, do you suppose that'll hasten his plans for your marriage?"

You sigh, the thought has lingered in the back of your mind since your brother grew out of being a child. "I'm not sure, but who knows?"

"Don't look so down," he smirks. "If you reach spinsterdom, you'll always have a place here with me."

You smile kindly. "Thank you."

As the instruments die down, signaling the dance coming to a close, you once again find yourself on the outskirts of the ballroom. You snag a look at your dance card to check where Joshua has penciled himself in. A waltz, of course. He'd undoubtedly use this opportunity of close quarters to flirt with you some more.

His name was listed far enough down the line that you could make a break for the storeroom now, and...

"Your Royal Highness!"

The next hour and a half was filled with nothing but dancing, with only a few minutes of rest provided in between.

You had been skirting along the edges of the ballroom when you just so happened to catch the eyes of an old presiding duke who resides in your kingdom, and it was all downhill from there.

What was supposed to have been a "romantic" evening was turning into a disaster. At every turn, you were swept into the arms of yet another elderly gentleman looking for a younger and more agreeable wife.

As you twirled and spun around the hardwood flooring, you were afforded only mere glances at your lover from afar. Every time you laid your eyes on him, he always appeared to be preoccupied with something else. Not that any of your concurrent dance partners would've noticed your wandering eye, as theirs were doing much of the same.

If there was one thing that all these men had in common, it was the ogling. Some of them "tried" to be more polite about it than others, going for glances at your cleavage in between the minimal required time they had to actually look you in the eye instead of blatantly staring at your chest the whole time.

It was clear, though, that all of them were oblivious to just how obvious they were being with their gaping looks, not realizing that you could tell when people were talking to your chest instead of your face.

Though you're certain that a drink limit was set for this ball, it was becoming quite clear that a majority of the "gentlemen" had imbibed to their pleasure, the smell of port lingering on their breath whenever they'd lean in close.

After a while, you had managed to escape all your suitors and camouflage yourself in a nearby group of gossiping noble ladies, the majority of them being mothers, who were well-equipped with an onslaught of questions about your brother and the future of the kingdom.

After quelling their curiosity, you nestled yourself in a corner, facing the wall of the ballroom, and let out an exasperated sigh, taking a few moments to collect yourself.

You were beyond frustrated, both sexually and mentally. All you desired was to climb between the sheets with your lover and have him pleasure your body until your thoughts were reduced to a mindless fog. To say you were having intense urges was an understatement.

It'd be easier to deal with if Clive wasn't a member of staff that you saw often, like a cook or a coachman, but being your sworn shield, he was in your presence a majority of the time. So close, yet so far.

His touch was often the source of your fantasies at night. Your mind wanders, flitting between thoughts of his scruff against your neck, his breath on your skin, and how his strong hands would grip your body.

You were never able to help but wonder what your first time together would be like. What does he look like when he comes? What does he sound like? Does he moan, grunt, or whimper? Would he be gentle with you? Similar to how he grasps your hand when helping you step down from a carriage, slow, languid thrusts into your heat as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, both of your bodies clinging onto each other for purchase. Or would he be rough? Similar to how he fights: powerful, unrelenting thrusts into your cunt, overwhelming as he batters into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You were often unable to decide which scenario you liked better as you reached your climax, whispering his name as you came down.

You know you shouldn't have such intense lust for someone who's working in your service, but knowing that just excites you more.

"Princess!"

You release another deep exhale as you turn around. You're really starting to get irritated at the word "princess."

"Your Highness!" you exclaim with a half gasp. Apparently, Joshua was set on keeping his promise of a dance.

"My sincerest apologies," you curtsey.

He gives a dismissive wave of his hand before extending it toward you. "You owe me no such things, my lady. Are you still willing to accept my dance proposal?"

"Of course, Your Highness," you place your gloved hand in his as he walks you to the dance floor, and you can't help the smile that rises on your face as you take your place together.

"I know it's against propriety for you to deny me a dance, but I'm not so cruel to force a lady when she doesn't want to."

"It's a pleasure, Your Highness. I assure you. You're perhaps the most polite man I've danced with thus far, besides my father and brother, of course."

His hand makes its way to the small of your back as more couples fall in toe behind you and the Archduke. Your conversation lulls until the music picks up, your hand delicately resting on his shoulder.

"Although I am most disappointed to hear that these gentlemen would treat a beautiful woman such as yourself with little regard, I can't deny that I'm pleased to be the only one who's seemed to win your affections."

This man.

As much as you try not to fawn over the attention, his words are like silk in your ears, as if they're the most natural sound you've ever heard.

It doesn't register that you're smiling so brightly until he comments on it: "You have one of the most radiant smiles, my lady."

You shake your head from side to side as if trying to regain your composure. Despite all the time you shared with Clive over a month ago, you weren't used to such blatant flirtations in front of so many people at once. Even if they couldn't hear your conversation, the smiles on both your faces single you out from the other couples on the floor. It leaves you feeling exposed, as if a bright light has been shone on both of you.

"Forgive me if I speak out of line, Your Highness," you inhale, "but where on Valisthea did you learn to become so charming?"

He offers a chuckle and a swoop of his strawberry-blonde hair. "I'm quite a fan of the written word. It was often one of the few escapes I truly had as a child, so I may have picked up a few techniques after reading a romance or two."

"Perhaps you could lend your novels to some of the other gentlemen here so they can learn how to properly woo a lady."

"And risk losing being the sole recipient of your affections?"

"Feeling insecure over your abilities?" You cock your head to the side, a small smirk appearing on your lips.

Joshua ponders the question for a moment, putting on a good face of deep thought as if he's truly rolling the question around in his head before responding, "More so like...I don't want to give the poor blokes false hope when I'm sure to come out on top anyway."

"It seems that you're very confident indeed."

The two of you chuckle as he twirls you around, only to be met with the scorn of Annabella's icy gaze after locking eyes with her from the other side of the ballroom. The joy in your expression quickly dies off, and the figurative noose tightens itself around your neck, suffocating the life from your lungs.

With your newfound stillness, Joshua has to guide you back into his arms. He looks off in the direction of your eye line and sighs before speaking once more, "I apologize on behalf of my mother."

"You needn't do so for my sake," you're quick to respond, attempting to reassure him that you were unaffected by Annabella's glare.

"Do you think I can't sense the dread in your eyes?" He smirks, and you offer a strained half-laugh in response while waiting for him to continue.

"I was frequently ill as a child, thus it was very rare to step foot outside the archduchy," he clears his throat, "after my father had passed, it seems that her protective nature only grew."

"I'm sorry about the loss of your father. I've only met him a handful of times, but he was always very kind. My mother once told me that I frequently laughed in his presence." You understood Joshua's pain well, having lost your mother during the birth of your brother years before the former Archduke passed.

A solemn look graces his features before he relaxes once more. "He was a good man, from what I can recall from my memories of him," he pauses, "I can only hope that I can be half the man he was when it comes to ruling the archduchy."

You take a moment to mull over your words before voicing them. "It seems like you've managed to capture his kind and generous spirit. I'm sure you're already well on your way to living up to his name."

"You're very kind," he nods, and a genuine smile fixes itself on his face, unlike the charming one he's graced you with before.

The music slows to a stop, indicating the end of the waltz, and Joshua walks you back to the fray of the ballroom as slowly as possible. "Perhaps this is inappropriate to say given the present company, but I'd love to call upon you some time."

A part of you is surprised, not expecting a courting proposal from someone you could actually tolerate. Being thoroughly charmed, you agree.

"There's a jousting tournament within the next fortnight. It's always an invigorating time. You should attend if you're able."

He takes your gloved hand in his, raising it until your knuckles graze his lips. "I'd be most delighted to attend. Until then, my lady." He releases your hand and turns off in the direction of his mother, who looks all too unhappy with him, and you, by extension.

You sigh, ready to be completely done with the evening. You move toward your father, ready to meander around where he sits near the dais, hoping that any lingering suitors would see him situated nearby and turn the other direction.

Once you've raised your head and made your way toward your father, Clive comes into view. He's moving toward you at a fast pace, and before you can stop yourself, your feet turn to guide you in his direction instead. Momentarily forgetting your place, you call out his name, though it's difficult to hear over the chatter of the ballroom.

At the same time, two overlapping voices call out to you. One is Clive's; the sound of his voice is more familiar to you, but there's another that cuts through the air.

A gruff "princess" is all you're afforded in terms of a greeting.

Both you and Clive come to a halt and turn in the direction of the unknown voice.

The man has a familiar face, though you can't exactly place from where you know him. He's around your father's age, with wrinkles lining his eyes and forehead as well as dashes of grey in his facial hair, so you conclude that your father must be how you've made his acquaintance before.

The man is decently handsome, more so than the other creeps you've had the displeasure of dancing with. He has stark eyes, almost crystalline in nature, which are a sharp contrast to his raven-colored hair.

These traits prove to be startlingly similar to those of your current lover, but you decide it's best to dissect that later.

Clive is the one who breaks the silence. "My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty."

Your majesty?

You offer the man a curtsey in apology while Clive bows, but the stranger pays you no mind, choosing to focus on the knight instead.

"Is something the matter?" Though it's merely a question, his voice carries a wealth of command behind it.

"Nothing that can't wait," Clive begins, his eyes flitting between you and the unknown—at least unknown to you. "Please pardon my intrusion." He bows to the both of you before stalking off toward your father.

You suppose you'll be informed later if it's truly so important.

The silence fills between you and the man again before he asks, "May I have this dance?" His mouth quirks up in a smirk.

“It's only a country dance; nothing too intimate,” you think to yourself.

If you were being honest, the last thing you wanted to do was begrudgingly endure a dance with this gentleman after having more than your fair share of imbeciles indulge themselves in your assets, but propriety comes first. So instead of telling this man to kindly fuck off, you put on your best princessly smile and place your hand in his.

"Of course," you reply, and he leads you toward the floor.

You stand next to each other in between other couples before the band begins to pick up once again. The melody starts slow enough, so you take this time to ask the man exactly who he is, keeping your tone light and polite.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty; it seems that I remember the face but not the name.”

He must've made his entrance later on in the evening after the formal introductions, because you certainly would've remembered him during the greetings.

He offers a light chuckle before muttering, "Barnabas, King of Waloed."

King of Waloed. The very same king who's planning to go toe to toe with one of your closest confidants. He's aged quite a bit in the fifteen-odd years it's been since you've seen him last; it's no wonder you didn't recognize him.

Your body language gives you away despite your best efforts, and his laugh pierces through you. "It seems my reputation proceeds me."

The disdain is thinly veiled in your voice. "Don't you have a battle to prepare for?" you grit, and he laughs again as if the prospect were beneath him.

"I'm not worried," is all he offers in response. His presence must've been what Clive was trying to warn you about.

You take a deep breath, seeing it best not to stir anything up in the public eye.

You get a better look at him when the succession of people in the line with you turns around. He certainly doesn't dress like a king—definitely not one like your father. There are no bells and whistles to his outfit, no ornate capes lined with exotic furs, or gilded crowns.

If anything, it seemed like he'd dressed down for this event, and you can't tell what pisses you off more: his pompous attitude toward heading into battle that may surely send Dion to an all too early grave or his nonchalance in showing up to a royal ball in only a blue tunic and black leathers. It felt like a jab. Though his pompousness in battle may be deserved, this blatant display of disrespect was not.

He gave the impression of a venomous snake, intriguing to look at but ultimately best viewed from a faraway distance.

It takes everything in you not to grind your teeth together and overemphasize the stiffness in your movements.

As if sensing your irritation with him, Barnabas probes, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

No, you're quite simply NOT!

"I've gotten to the age where these sorts of gatherings lose their luster."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. As you got older and balls became more about finding matches, you started to dread them. You were hoping that it being your brother's birthday would be enough to spare you from marriage prospects, but alas, you were clearly wrong.

"A shame," he mutters, his words lacking enthusiasm.

The group moves along to the beat of the tune when Clive comes into your view, talking to your father.

"Who's that brooding fellow you're staring at?" Barnabas asks, trying to cut off whatever is taking your attention away from him.

The two of you move in succession toward the back of the group when it registers just how much you've been gawking at Clive in Barnabas' presence.

"Him? He's my first shield," you answer nonchalantly, letting no indication of fondness slip into your voice.

Barnabas snickers, "I had no idea noble ladies were so heavily invested in the lives of their shields."

"I know naught of what you mean," you scoff, acting like the princess you are.

His voice rises in volume as he declares, "Why don't you let a real man take care of you?"

Heat floods your body at his words, and you do little to hide your disgust.

"Excuse me?"

"He's nothing but filth," he continues to say, and the rage inside you reaches a boiling point.

"You speak of him as if he's nothing but a lowly street rat."

"He might as well be, compared to us. You could have an entire kingdom of knights protecting you as well as one of the most powerful men in the realm, instead of just one lowly feeble knight."

"Are you always so incorrigible toward those who are beneath you? It's a miracle that your kingdom still stands."

He laughs out loud, beside himself. You were sure he'd have your head. Instead, his volume just gets louder, so those dancing alongside you can hear.

"I've heard rumors that your precious first shield is actually a royal bastard, but from whom he's a descendant, I've no idea. A man of his standing is simply not fit to be in the position of protecting a princess. I'm just looking out for you."

If you were feeling rage before, now you're furious. As much as the people in your dance group tried to be respectful, heads couldn't help but turn at Barnabas' accusations.

Whether Clive being a bastard was true or not didn't matter; you refused for someone who valiantly defended your life to be made a mockery of over such trivial matters in your eyes.

"I was the one who held the sword that knighted Clive!" You start off loud, similar to him, but your voice gets lower as you draw near.

"My father gave him a title under his tutelage. Clive's been protecting me since I was the tender age of twelve years old and is the only man I'd trust with my life outside of my father and brother."

There's a pause before you continue.

"If you wish to win my favor, it'd be wise to watch what you say in regards to him," you grit.

You're not sure when the rest of the group stopped dancing alongside you, but by the time you realize it, all their eyes are on you. Though the people outside of the circle couldn't hear your conversation, the crowd caused those on the fray of the ballroom to turn their attention toward you.

Barnabas only snirks, scanning your face plainly when you turn back to face him. Your glare is prominent as he escorts you back off the dance floor once the music dies down.

He speaks in a low voice, right in your ear, "You're a feisty one, but don't worry, I enjoy a challenge." He smiles menacingly before releasing you.

All the wandering heads seem to return to their original activities upon the group's dispersal. You don't want to cause any more disturbance, something you're sure you'll get a lecture for later on, so you give a curtsey to Barnabas, lowering your head.

"I shall bid you adieu, Your Majesty." The words are choked out, and not a moment later you're turning on your heels and making your exit out of the ballroom.

Which is how you ended up in an old store room, with nothing but your various frustrations and the ebbs n flows of silence to keep you company.

You're not sure how long you've been sitting there, but by the time you hear the door open, you're convinced that it was a servant sent to escort you back to the ballroom, but instead, it's Clive.

There's no hesitation in his movements as he steps toward you, catching your face in his gloved hands as he reads your expression.

"Are you alright?" He asks. Even if there's no threat of physical danger, that doesn't mean emotional scars weren't left after your interaction with the king.

"I tried to warn you...I tried to-"

You cut him off, "I'm okay, Clive. A little embarrassed, but it's nothing I couldn't handle." You smiled softly at him, which he returned in full.

"What were you two talking about?"

Warmth flows throughout your body once more, and you don't want to admit that the cause of the outburst you had was because of him, so you act nonchalant.

"Nothing of importance."

He raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe what you're saying at all, but he doesn't press you on it, not now at least, and you won't give him the chance to when you ask, "Jealous?"

He smirks, shaking his head back and forth slightly. "Do you enjoy tormenting me, my lady?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Do you enjoy watching my torment? Does it give you pleasure?"

"I'm afraid I know naught of what you mean. Have you perhaps forgotten your place, knight?" You put extra emphasis on the word as you toss a smirk his way.

He backs up from where you're sitting on the barrel. "All those men, dancing with you, ogling you. All the while, I'm forced to stand by and watch them all make a pass at you."

You offer a faux pout. "Aw, come on. They're not all bad."

"Enough of them are."

"Are you truly so jealous of those who're above your peerage?" You can't help but snirk in amusement. This was the first time you'd seen him act like this.

"Yes, no!" He takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts: "The Archduke and that bastard king."

Your eyebrows rise at his declaration. "You hate them so much that you've forgone proper titles?"

He rolls his eyes at your statement, and you're unable to hold back your giggles. You hop off the barrel and take his face into your hands.

"There is absolutely no affection for that king in my heart, I assure you. As for the Archduke, though he is roguishly charming, I happen to prefer meaner mugs to delicate pretty features like his," you move to press a kiss to his cheek.

His head hangs low in shame. "I cannot deny that jealousy and resentment burn in my heart at the thought of you with another."

"Believe me," you say, stroking his cheek, "I'd much rather spend my time with you than with stiff men who smell of port. I've been looking for an escape practically all evening.“

"They don’t deserve you at all, my lady. Those men don’t deserve to know the softness of your skin,” he lowers his mouth to place delicate kisses on your neck, then moves toward the exposed flesh of your bosom above your gown.

"Clive," you gasp, tangling your fingers in his thick locks.

“They don't deserve to know the sweetness in your voice when you cry out in pleasure," he whispers, pulling away from your skin to trace his thumb along the frame of your face.

“I’ve missed you," he states.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He pulls you into him for a kiss, one full of hunger and desperation, eager to taste each other once more. The kiss is sticky; the clear gloss painted on your lips transfers onto his. He’s licking into your mouth as your lips brush against each other, tongues wrestling each other for dominance.

You're moved backward until you're pressed against the storeroom wall. Clive reaches down, grazing your bum with his palms over the fabric of your skirts before lifting your legs in the air. The back wall holds you steady as he wraps your legs around his waist.

Desperate to get close to him once more, not even wanting to separate for a second, you pull him back into you and kiss him fervently, not wanting to be parted from each other. He angles his hips toward you, teasingly grinding himself into your heat, causing you to whine into the kiss.

“Looks like you did miss me, hm?” He separates from your lips, moving to kiss down your neck once more.

“Let me make it up to you for being so neglectful of your needs.” He continues kissing down your neck, moving over to your décolleté, and then finally down the swell of your breasts.

“Founder, how I wish I could mark these tits,” he murmurs, dropping your legs back down onto the floor so that he can skim your torso and squeeze at your chest through the fabric of your gown.

“You have an intense infatuation with my breasts, don't you?” You giggle, laughing at his awestruck countenance while he continues to knead the fat in his hands.

“You've no idea." He smirks at you, then suddenly kneels before you.

“What are you doing?” You pet his hair softly as he looks up at you.

“I’m just being a good knight, my lady. On my knees for you, like I should be.”

"Oh, really now?"

"Mhm," he mumbles, taking your gloved hand in his. “I truly did miss you, and I plan on showing you just how much.” He reaches towards the hem of your gown, bunching it up over your navel.

"If you'd be so kind as to help hold up your skirts, my lady."

"I suppose I should be so kind." You lift the hem of your dress over your hips as Clive places your leg over his shoulder.

“Now this is how I shall swear fealty to you,” he leans towards your bare mound, planting a few kisses upon your mons before blowing cool air onto your cunt.

“I’ve missed your taste. I dreamt about it for so many nights." His thumbs trace slow circles into the skin near your pelvis as he continues teasing. He trails his tongue where your thigh meets the stark white stocking covering the majority of your leg.

"Fuck." He leans his face into your pussy once more, inhaling the rich scent before finally dipping his tongue into your wetness. He groans into your cunt.

Holding up the skirts of your gown the best you can in one hand, you snake the other into his shaggy locks, taking hold of his roots. Your chest heaves in anticipation.

“Please, please, Clive, don’t tease me," you whine, "it’s been too long.”

“Aw, did my sweet princess miss me?” He goads, sticking his tongue in your entrance and greedily sucking up your arousal on his wet muscle.

“Did her princess pussy miss how good I made her feel?” He kisses up the seam of your cunt until he reaches your clit.

"Did she miss how I made love to her with my mouth?” He spits on your pussy, the glob of saliva sticking to the hairs that cover your mound, some of it dripping to the ground.

He's quick to remove his gloves, tossing them aside before he takes his thumbs and spreads your folds apart, watching as your quivering hole twitches in anticipation.

“She must have missed me, with how much she’s leaking just for me."

All you're able to do is bite your lip and nod, feeling embarrassed as his words generate heat in both your cheeks and core.

He plugs your warm hole with his tongue, not wanting a single morsel of your essence to be wasted.

“It’s alright, princess; I’m right here.” He speaks directly into your cunt, looking at you with a deeply enamored gaze.

"I’ve missed her too, you know," he says, sliding his tongue all around your sopping pussy.

“I’ve missed her wetness, her sweetness, and her warmth. I missed how she clenched around me as I gave her pleasure," he groans.

Making his way to your clit, he gives it sweet kisses and drags the length of his tongue along the entirety of the bundle of nerves before pulling it into his mouth. His teeth graze the nub, causing your hips to jump forward, pressing more of yourself into his face.

Your fingers curl into his shaggy locks, struggling to keep your dress in your hold as you lose yourself in the feeling of pleasure, his pretty face proving to be useful for more than just gazing upon.

His teeth nip at your inner thigh, “getting greedy now, aren’t we princess?” He traces the divots of your thighs with his fingers, enjoying the feeling of your skin.

You don’t say anything, choosing to instead respond with an angry huff and pull his face back into your cunt by his hair.

“Point taken,” he smirks against you before pulling your clit back into his mouth again.

He moves his hand from your thigh and down to your pussy, sliding his middle finger back and forth between your folds, coating it in your slick. He slips to your entrance, circling the quivering hole and waiting, drawing out a whine from you.

“Please,” you exhale, your head rolling back against the wall, desperate to have him deep inside you. Though you’d much prefer squeezing down on his cock, that’d have to wait for another day.

He chuckles, the vibration from his voice moving through you, causing you to keel over slightly. Clive breeches your warm hole, slowly, letting you enjoy the feeling of his thick finger stretching you out.

“Fuck yes,” you whimper.

“That’s it, princess; you’re so wound up. Just take what you need," he coos, murmuring against you, his breath hot on your skin.

He curls his finger into you, the pad of his digit hitting the spongey spot along your walls.

“Looking for another audience? Was the poor maid not enough the first time?” He’s smirking against you now as he begins to pump his finger in and out of your cunt.

“What if your father were to catch you with me, hm? How do you think he’d react to his little girl stuffing her cunt in the face of someone he deigned worthy enough to protect her?"

Your breath is ragged, unable to form words due to the sound of his voice, deep and gravelly as he spews more filth at you.

“Keep moaning like that, and we’ll soon know the answer yet.”

He moves to your clit once more, slurping and sucking at your swollen pussy, desperate to push you over the edge. He fucks his finger into you at a rapid pace now, and his tongue is quick to catch whatever dribbles out onto his fingers, dining on your essence like it’s the finest ambrosia known to man, and to him, it might as well be.

Your head is lulled back against the wall as heat creeps onto your face and into your core. You don’t dare look down at Clive, who's nestling his face further in the hair that covers your cunt, knowing that you’ll surely come undone at the sight.

After the night you’ve had, you more than deserve this a thousand times over, and if it were up to him, he would happily oblige in all your desires.

The tips of your fingers cinch into his scalp, tugging him impossibly closer to your core, your orgasm building rapidly.

Clive pulls no punches, suctioning his lips around your clit and sucking it like a piece of hard candy. His index finger has joined the middle digit, fucking in and out of your cunt.

With practiced strokes, he contorts his fingers until your climax is upon you. Your lips part with a silent scream as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

Your thighs shake as they try to close around his head, and his steady palms hold them apart as he removes his fingers from your pussy. Every drop of arousal that leaks from your womanhood is lapped up by his tongue til your hands are pushing his face away.

Clive gets the hint, removing your thigh from his shoulder and setting it back down on the floor. You attempt to move away from the wall, but he holds you in position until the jitter in your leg ceases.

He wipes the remnants of your spend from his face onto your inner thighs, and the roughness of his facial hair sends a shiver up your spine.

Once you've settled, he moves to help with fixing the skirts of your gown.

"Do you like it?" You smile brightly. "I wore it with you in mind."

You twirl slowly, your dress billowing slightly, wanting to show off all the detailing. His face warms at the gesture, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I think lavender may be my new favorite color."

You allow yourself a moment to indulge in the blissful feeling before Clive speaks up once more.

"We should get moving. The break for supper will be happening soon, and we don't want any whispers of our whereabouts if we're not in attendance."

He moves to make a break for the storeroom door when you grab his forearm.

"Surely you're not going to go out there with your... predisposition," you flit your eyes down to the front of his trousers, where a prominent erection has made itself known.

"I'll take care of it myself, later."

"Let me help you..." There wasn't much time for you to return the favor with your mouth, and any other activities would leave you disheveled in a way that everyone would know of what happened between the two of you, but you could provide relief with your hand.

Despite the time restraint, you wanted to tease Clive a little, putting the tips of your silk gloves into your mouth and pulling them off of each hand slowly with your teeth before setting them aside nearby, so as to not be sullied with bodily fluids.

You wanted to get a good look at what you'd be working with, so you sink to your knees and pull his trousers down to his thighs. You give him a wide-eyed expression as the appendage bobs free, hitting his stomach gently.

His cock looked a lot different than those pictured in the medical texts that you've snuck from the royal library. He had extra skin and hair and garnered a much bigger girth as well.

As tempted as you are to swallow the whole of him into your mouth, you settle for a simple kiss right on the tip, and his cock twitches back at you cutely in appreciation.

You rise to your feet once more with his aid and grasp him in your hand. His fingers are quick to cover your own, the size of them dwarfing yours.

"Are you positive that you want to go through with this? I truly don't mind taking care of myself," he asks.

"And not return the favor?" You chuckle. "I promise, I am doing this out of my own desire." You move to the column of his throat, placing soft and delicate kisses on the skin before moving toward the junction of his jaw.

"Now just relax," you coo, running your fingers delicately up and down his shaft.

He's so pent-up that it won't take long for him to climax, but you do your best to be as teasing as possible. His head lulls back as muffled sounds are delivered from his throat, and you can't help but admire how pretty he looks like this.

Not only does he have an impressive amount of girth, but his length is nothing to scoff at either, with a protruding vein running along the underside of him. The sheer size of him fills up your entire palm as you continue to pump slowly, the softness of your skin akin to silk upon his cock.

"So tell me, Clive, how many nights have you been fucking your fist to the thought of me?" You whisper in his ear, and his eyes shoot wide open as he takes in a gulp of air.

His hips buck lightly against you in response, giving you all the permission you need to continue your questioning.

"Come on, tell me. It can't be that bad." Your kisses continue on his neck as his hips continue to rock.

He takes in another gulp of air before answering.

"E-every night.”

"Every night? How cute," you tease, speeding up your movements on his cock. He bites his lip in an attempt to hide his noises while the rhythm of his hips meets your hand every time.

"I touch myself thinking of you too. Except my fingers are nowhere near as filling as yours," you chuckle to yourself as he groans out.

"Founder, above."

His cock is fully slick now, and at any moment, he looks like he's ready to burst, taking to wrapping his fist around yours and creating a vice-like grip with your fingers. All his movements are hurried and rushed as he chases his release.

For the final blow, you mutter to him, "Fuck my fist like you would fuck my pussy."

Clive full body shudders, tightening his grip once more before thrusting wildly. It's only a few short moments later that he's removing your hand from himself and laying his seed on the floor below, groaning your name in the process.

Afterward, the two of you take a few moments to collect yourselves and tidy your appearance. Old rags were used to wipe off the remnants of Clive from the floor, and you were just about to make your exit when the melody from one of your favorite songs played through the door.

"Clive, may I have this dance?" You extend your hand toward him, giggling to yourself.

From looking at your dance card earlier, this song was the second-to-last song to be played before the break for supper.

"And don't give me the excuse of not having enough time. We'll make it back to the ballroom before everyone's filed out for the evening."

"Even if that is true, my lady, I assure you that I know nothing of ballroom dancing."

"Did I ask you if you knew how?"

There's a momentary pause, one that he fills with a shake of his head. You nod in return.

"No, I did not. I simply asked you to dance with me. I'd still wish to so even if you had two left feet."

There's another pause as you extend your hand toward him again.

"I even saved you a spot on my dance card," you smile, shaking the parchment in front of his face, where the line for this dance is indeed left blank.

In his indecisiveness, you take his hand in your own and press yourselves close together.

"It's just you and me," you whisper, resting your head against his frame, the sound of the music filling the silence. His opposite hand moves to the small of your back, and the two of you end the evening in each other's arms, swaying to the sound of muffled music.

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