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thevirgincherry · 6 months

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NOUVEAU GAULTIER !

ft. leon s. kennedy x reader x ashley graham

tags. leon is ashley’s dad, daddy-daughter incest, age gap, threesome, implied/referenced cheating, reader has a pussy, 1 tiny reference to an eating disorder, creampie, daddy kink, dub-con, reader gets cucked sort of, ex-president leon :3

notes. was gonna name this nouveau roturier like newly rich but thought I was soooo funny for making a designer brand pun and I’m not even french so it’s probably wrong like but idc omg I’m sorry!!! the timeline of this is fucked like idk but leon is old in this 50+ i’d say :3 i adore ashley with all my heart and she’s one of my faves but i totally bimbofied her in this fic so excuse that 😭 no pronouns are used but reader wears dresses/skirts and is shorter than ashley and leon calls them wife once, leon is ooc againnnnn I promise next time he will be getting pegged.. I am not happy w the smut in this bc it’s oddly put together but whatever not proofread ignore typos

You’re a social climber. Admittedly so. The minute you see Ashley, kitten heels clicking on the marble floor, shiny blonde bob, cat-eye sunglasses - you need her. Whether it be as friends or lovers, you need her. Her dad spent two terms in office a few years back, the name alone was enough to get people to vote for him, President Kennedy has a nice ring to it. Been tried out once, so why not again? He was super cute at the time too. Well dressed, soft-spoken, and Italian-American, but not Italian enough to make the general public go into a frenzy about how some foreigner snuck his way to the top. C’mon, look at those baby blues, that’s an American man born and bred. You wanna do the whole Happy Birthday Mr. President shit with him, bastardised JFK and Marilyn.

Ashley is easy, the sorority girls flock to her, use her till they get what they want. All it takes is some shiny shoes, a flashy handbag, and a pearly smile to get her attention. You go the extra mile, manage to snag a Miu Miu chino miniskirt after hours of bidding to match hers, put on some knee-high socks and loafers, saunter into class and sit right in front of her. Pull out your very authentic and vintage Vivienne Westwood pouch that you use as a pencil case, make sure she gets a good look at it.

She approaches you after class, flutters her fingers at you and asks you to wait up. “I love your bag,” she gushes, “I’m Ashley, sorry, I didn’t catch your name today.” Her bangs are clipped away from her face today with a crystal-embellished pin, matching the pendant that sits nestled in her cleavage.

You tell her your name, smile at her just as wide, tell her you’ve seen that cardigan in the Blugirl fall 2004 runway. She says it’s a replica, couldn’t get her hands on the exact one, but her daddy did manage to get her the bag straight off the model. Albeit a little busted from all the years of use. She’s too open, so willing to spill all her secrets to the first person she deems trustworthy.

It takes approximately three weeks before the two of you are thick as thieves. You feel like you’ve known her all your life. Ashley invites you over to her gilded cage in no time, located in the very back of a gated neighbourhood where all the old money is. Colonial mansions, lion statues, perfectly trimmed hedges, something out of the Stepford Wives. Gives you the creeps.

“Daddy’s home, but mom’s on vacation,” Ashley loops her arm in yours, greets the man who opens the door for both of you . He nods at her. “He’s probably in his office though, so he won’t bother us.”

The family portrait on the wall is too much. Isn’t that some mediaeval shit? Ashley looks like her mother, you note. Just kinder. She can never help the smile that reaches her eyes. Her mom’s a total bombshell, heels that make her taller than Mr. Kennedy, all tits and not much else. You always thought wealthy guys liked them small.

Her room is what you expect from Ashley. Tidy, shelves upon shelves of squeaky clean shoes, a handbag variant in fifteen different colours. Walk-in wardrobe that’s entirely colour-coded and sorted by brand. It’s a wannabe nepo baby’s personal heaven. The thing all your dreams are made of.

“Ash, this is crazy,” you find yourself opening drawers and cupboards, doing the complete opposite of what your parents taught you. Totally invading her privacy by playing dress up in her closet, and yet, Ashley doesn’t mind one bit. She lets you try on a Shushu/Tong dress, one that was tailored to fit her just right, so it’s slightly tight in the bust for you. A little too loose on the waist, she’s taller after all. Fatter ass too. Got that from her dad, you’ve seen how those slacks stretch uncomfortably far around his thighs. “It’s like a department store.” You wonder if she’s ever been in one. Probably not.

“I guess so,” Ashley giggles, helping you out of the dress with ease. “I’m glad I met you.” She wears her heart on her sleeve, can never lie to you, has to say it right there and then. “People are so mean to me ‘cause I have a lot.” Poor little rich girl.

“They’re just jealous, Ash,” you say breezily, fixing your hair in her full-length mirror. Framed by lights and everything. “It’s not your fault you’re rich, babes.”

“I know, that’s what I’m saying!” Ashley tosses her arms in the air, “like, it’s not my fault, I was just born into it.”

“Exactly, you didn’t ask for it.” You coo, cupping her soft cheeks in your hands. God, you’d kill for China doll skin like this. Some people really do have it all.

“You just get it,” she sighs, bats her mascara-coated lashes down at you, “I love you like so much.”

“Aw,” you stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, she doesn’t complain when your lip gloss stains it, “I love you, like, even more, Ash.”

Sleeping at Ashley’s becomes a frequent thing. Anytime she asks, you agree. What’s better than free food, a big comfy princess bed, mani-pedis, and a pretty blonde by your side? Literally nothing tops that. You’d do anything to leave your dorm, your roommate smokes too much and never airs the place out.

You’ve never seen her dad despite spending all this time over at hers. A second home by now. All the staff know you by name. Bow their heads and greet you like they do Ashley. It gives you a real rush. Don’t even need that pat-down security check outside the gates anymore. Dude just lets you straight in.

At the dining table is where you meet him for the first time. You and Ashley, in matching slips, hers minty green and yours baby pink, sit chatting away and picking at your breakfast the way rich people do. ‘Cause god forbid you actually eat, Ashley said her mom was bulimic in winter and simply starved in spring. Anorexia is totally in this season.

“Daddy!” Ashley’s off her feet throwing herself at him the moment he steps into the room. He catches her easily, and it really is heartfelt, till they kiss. On the lips. Like. Tongue and all, spit dripping down Ashley’s chin kinda kiss. It takes you off guard, you choke on the shredded cucumber you put in your mouth, serves you right for trying to eat. No fucking way. Her hand dips low between their bodies, did she just grab his fucking balls? A ball grab is sacred. No way this is real. Oh my god. Jesus Christ, lord and saviour, this is what you get for making friends with rich girls. You’d rather the family secret be murder, not incest.

“Hi, my princess,” he coos, whispers something in her ear and winks, Ashley giggles and slaps his chest. Ew. You need to get out of this place, stat. “Who’s this, Ash?” Mr. Kennedy straightens up when he sees you, face goes stern, makes him look older. You used to find him so dreamy. Face like an 80s pornstar.

“Oh, daddy, I told you already,” she says your name and it must ring a bell ‘cause he nods his head slowly in recognition, “We’re going shopping soon, so I’ll see you later, daddy.” Ashley wraps her arms around his neck, god, you’re going to throw up a breakfast that you didn’t even eat.

They kiss and it’s even worse than last time. His hands go from her waist to her round ass, gives it a squeeze and Ashley squeals in delight. “I love you daddy.” She chirps.

“Love you too, princess,” he takes his freshly brewed coffee from the counter and leaves like he didn’t just traumatise you. Like you don’t need years of intensive therapy to get over what you just saw. No wonder her mom is still on vacation.

you: i need cbt

claire: cock n ball torture?? why??

you: ?? BITCH?

you: need to get out of here like asap

claire: told u they r part of a cult !!!

claire: illuminati

you: worse i’ll tell u when i escape

claire: send me ur will :(

“Isn’t he so sweet?” Ashley giggles as she sits back down beside you. “Daddy can drive us to the mall today, he said he’s free.”

It hurts to smile. “Oh, Ash, he’s so busy, he totally doesn’t have to!” Your voice is strained, but she doesn’t notice. “I don’t mind walking either.”

“No, it’s okay, it’ll be fun!”

It is not fun. It’s the farthest from fun actually. ‘Cause all you can see is them kissing. The scene keeps replaying in your head anytime Mr. Kennedy speaks. A man you’d once found so handsome, all suave and suited up, kissing his daughter on the mouth. Just as weird as every other politician. Worse maybe. Biden don’t get down and dirty with his daughter.

He doesn’t pay much attention to you, meets your eye in the rear-view mirror a few times, and that’s it. Daddy doesn’t like you, huh? Whatever. Ugly freak. Ashley and her mom are too pretty for this guy. Poor Ash, does she even know that it isn’t normal to kiss your dad? The thought is making you nauseous.

“Wait, can I get out here?” You blurt it out after thinking too hard. Ashley blinks at you in surprise. “I feel a little sick.” You admit.

“Oh em gee, are you, like, okay?” She covers her mouth with a dainty hand, light brows bunched up in worry, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “You’re kinda clammy, oh my gosh.”

“Yeah,” you smile at her weakly, “must be what’s going around college.”

“Daddy can drop you home,” Ashley insists, but you’d rather not let her see the state of your dorm building. The university does nothing to make it look pretty. Crumbling, old-fashioned brickwork, moss stuck to every inch of it. “He doesn’t mind.”

“No, I think the fresh air would be good for me, Ash,” you pat her shoulder, Mr. Kennedy pulls up near the curb, doesn’t spare you a second glance.

“Only if you’re sure…” She chews on her bottom lip, slender fingers intertwined with yours. Clingy. Ashley doesn’t want to let go.

“I’m sure,” you kiss her hand, “I’m sorry for cutting it short, Ash, we can go when I’m better, alright?” You tell her as you get out, she’s about to roll down the window and speak, but daddy drives off the second you shut the door. Fucking asshole.

Straight to Claire’s it is.

“I don’t believe you,” Claire laughs in your face when you recount your distressing morning. “You could've told me anything and I would believe it, but I do not think Leon S. Kennedy fucks his daughter on the low.”

“Claire, I’m serious,” you dig your acrylics into her arm, stomp your feet, “I fucking saw it, she grabbed his balls, like, like, she fuckin’ groped him!”

“Right,” Claire rolls her eyes, “Jill doesn’t even grab my balls ‘n we’ve been together since forever.”

“You don’t have balls to grab, bitch,” you’re shaky when you take the drink she offers, breaking out in a cold sweat when you think about it too hard. “Fuck, Claire,” you whine, “I thought you did journalism, can’t you like, tell someone? New York Times?”

“I’m in my second year of college, dude, I don’t think it works like that. No one’s gonna believe me when I say Kennedy kisses his kid.” Claire picks at her cuticles, she’s so over it already! Couldn’t this be her big break?

“Kissing your kid is fine, but not like that.” You keep grabbing and pinching her, trying to emphasise just how wretched it really was, but Claire tears herself free each time. “Like, that was porno shit, man.” To be fair, if Claire really did go to someone with your story, then wouldn’t they know it was you who leaked it? Then you’d be killed and it’d be framed as suicide, and so would Claire. Or a murder-suicide. They’d act like you were capable of such things. Claire might be, but you’re certainly not.

“Film it,” she shrugs, “then I’ll believe you.”

“No,” you shake your head, face grave, “Claire I couldn’t show you that, it would be too much, way too much.”

She laughs at you again, full belly laugh, pinches your cheek like you’re a toddler. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad. I think you’re just not used to it ‘cause you’re not close with your dad.”

“That has nothing to do with this!” You elbow her in the tit, “Even if I was close with my dad, I wouldn’t have my fucking tongue down his throat.”

“Suppose so.”

“Dude, if you had a dad would you be deepthroating his tongue?”

“I’m not deepthroating any guy,” Claire retorts, “Dad or not.”

“Okay, then what about Chris?”

“Gross!” She elbows you in the gut to get back at you, “Don’t even go there you fucking freak.”

“Claire, I’m like, you don’t get it, I’m fucking freaking out right now.” You can feel the tension headache building already. All the pressure is ready to pop. Is this how you die? Spontaneous combustion? In Claire’s apartment? All over the back wall that reminds you of how T.G.I Friday is decorated. Weird ass biker shit, old rock band posters. It’s ugly and this sucks. Who even listens to Guns ‘n Roses now? Axl Rose isn’t even cute and girly anymore.

“Dude, film it and I promise I’ll do something ‘bout it.” Claire holds out her pinky, you wrap your one around it. Deal. Some fucking friend she is.

Acting normal around Ashley is so hard. The hardest thing you’ve ever done. Harder than any exam, harder than any cock you’ve sucked. Just looking at her makes your tummy flip. Luckily, Mr. Ex-President ain’t around today, so you don’t have to worry about any ball fondling. No footage for Claire.

“My mom has that,” Ashley says offhandedly when you show her the Jean Paul Gaultier gown saved to your Pinterest board of needs. She’s filing her nails, popping her gum, having a good ol’ time like she hasn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb on you.

“Are you fucking serious, Ash?” You sit up in her bed, grab her by the shoulders, “I’m literally gonna throw up, can I see it?”

Ashley tilts her head to the side, and smiles cutely, “Of course you can, you can wear it if you want.” Holy shit. You’d kiss her on those gorgeous doll lips if she didn’t kiss her daddy with that mouth.

You knock her back into the bed when you hug her, “Ashley, I am literally going to take you home and put you on my shelf.”

“What?” She giggles again, “why?”

“Because you’re a fucking doll, babe, god, I could kiss you!” You could, but you won’t. Don’t really want Mr. Kennedy cooties.

Her mom’s wardrobe is significantly bigger than hers, there’s a single rack of suits that all look the same in the corner, obviously belonging to Mr. Kennedy. He gets a sad slither of space where he’s stashed a bunch of folded polos and slacks. That’s how it should be.

“I’m gonna shit myself, Ash,” you tell her when she pulls it out. There’s a fair amount of garments on the floor at this point, all costing more than you would if sold on the black market.

“Please don’t do that,” Ashley looks genuinely worried, she holds it to her figure so you can see the dress in all its glory. A lace bodice, sheer and naughty, delicate and subtle beading threaded into the patches of fabric. The skirt is sleek, sticks to the body like a second skin, but stiff like it’s unworn. Never been put to use. You’d be wearing this shit at every event no matter how small. Night out at the local bar? Yeah, you’re whipping out the Gaultier.

“It’s gorgeous,” you mumble, reaching out to touch it ever so softly like it could fall apart at any second, break apart like butterfly wings. “Are you sure I can put it on?” It sure looks good on Ashley, she’s lithe and slender in the way models tend to be.

“Duh, mom won’t notice anyway,” Ashley’s nimble fingers come to slip you out of your clothes, “it’ll fit,” she reassures you.

“Hi, beautiful,” you run your hands over the dress, it’s snug on the hips, loose on the bust. Opposite to how Ashley’s clothes fit. “Shit, Ash, I feel like I’m gonna pass out.” You can’t take your eyes off of it, the intricacies of the beadwork, the lace flora that stretches to your shape.

“You look so pretty,” Ashley fawns, “your tits look great.”

“Right?” You cup them, “I don’t even know how to thank you, Ash.”

She’s about to speak when the door to her mother’s dressing room clicks open. With his belt halfway undone, Mr. Kennedy enters, lips parting like he wants to say something. No god is on your side.

“Hi, daddy,” Ashley greets him with a kiss to the cheek today, thank fuck!

“Hi there, babydoll,” he rubs his cheek against hers, the roughness of his stubble making her cry out. “You playin’ dress up?” Good lord, get me out of here, you’re praying to whoever’s listening. The devil himself could answer and you’d take it.

“That tickles, daddy,” she clings to his arm, then nods at his question. “Mhm, doesn't it look pretty?”

Mr. Kennedy narrows his eyes at you. Alright, jeez, calm it, old man. You smile at him sheepishly, “Hi, Mr. Kennedy, sorry ‘bout this.”

“It’s alright,” he says coolly, “I’m sure it was Ashley’s idea.” He smiles at her fondly, eyes going soft and watery, he draws her in for a lip-smacking kiss.

It takes every morsel of your self-preservation to not cry out, run out screaming, take the dress with you and never come back. Move to Greenland. Meet some nice fellow and settle down with him. Are there hotties in Greenland? You stand there with a tight-lipped smile, bottom lip wobbling ‘cause your cheeks are starting to ache.

“It’s cute though, right, daddy?” Ashley’s lips are shiny with his spit as she makes her way back over to you. “Looks better than it does on mom.”

“Hm,” Mr. Kennedy raises a brow, looks you up and down. “Guess it does, Ash.”

“Will you help ‘em out of it, daddy?” Ashley asks innocently enough, she holds out her hand, “I don’t wanna break a nail if the zip gets stuck.”

“Sure, baby.” He agrees so easy ‘cause Ashley’s so sweet she gives you a cavity.

“No, it’s okay!” You turn your back away from him, reaching back to feel around for the dangling zipper, “I can do it myself, Mr Kennedy, there’s really no need.”

“I insist,” Mr. Kennedy steps forward, two strong hands on your hips and he spins you around to face the mirror. You feel his breath on your neck, the scent of his cologne wafts your way. Wearing so much you can taste it. It’s expensive of course.

You can’t stand him. Your knees go weak when his eyes catch yours in the mirror. Damn him for being so handsome. If he wasn’t such a freak, you’d do unspeakable things to him. Dip your tongue in his cleft chin, suck on his neck like a mosquito, grab his ass, his balls. Whatever he likes. He unzips it slowly on purpose. Or maybe it just feels extra long ‘cause this is so painfully awkward.

“It fits real nice,” Mr. Kennedy comments, his lips curl upwards, did he just pat your ass? Um, Ashley, hi, stop folding those clothes and control your dog of a father. “Wanted to be my wife or something, that’s why you put it on?”

“No, sir,” you say shakily, you’re so gonna vomit all over these cute heels.

“Might fit, but it don’t suit you,” the zip is open, you wrap your arm around your chest so you’re not left completely without dignity. “Low-class whores shouldn’t be playin’ house with my Ashley, alright?” He says it with a smile so blinding you almost thunk to the ground. Hold your horses, Kennedy, classism is so twenty years ago. “I know Ash likes you lots, but don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Oh shit. C’mon Mr. Kennedy, you called her a bimbo once. That’s a compliment these days. Then you called her ditsy, airheaded, and a plethora of other things. Did he have access to, like, all the weird shit you’ve said?

“I love Ash,” you do, you really do. There’s no one in this world sweeter than Ashley. “She’s sweet to me.” You’ve got cottonmouth. Can’t get much else out.

“Did you get it off, daddy?” Ashley peeks over his shoulder.

“Almost, baby,” he urges you to move your arm, “lemme hold ‘em up so you can take it off, sweetheart.”

In your dreams old man. Never in a million years will he get to hold your prize-winning tits. Organic and homegrown on the farm that is your body. Okay, never mind, he’s holding them. You’re shaking like crazy, fingers hooking in the fabric so you can wriggle out of the tight skirt.

“Daddy, you’re so sweet,” Ashley flutters her lashes at him, so enamoured by this ugly creep. Handsome creep you guess. With a nose you’d like to ride.

“I’m sweet, huh? Shouldn’t you give daddy a kiss then?” Are they seriously doing this when you’re standing there ass naked with your tits in his hands?

“I’ll give you lotsa kisses, daddy,” Ashley peppers kisses along his jaw, down his neck, okay, she’s getting on her knees. Strangling yourself with that Hermés scarf sounds good right now. “Down here too.” She better not be giving him that ball squeeze. Trademark Kennedy ball squeeze.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, sweetheart,” Leon clicks his tongue, Mr. Kennedy was getting old and long to say. Fuck you, Leon. “Eyes up here, yeah?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kennedy,” you mumble, hear the sound of a zipper. God, she’s really going to town. Sucking and slurping.

“Step out of it,” Leon instructs, you do so carefully, leaving the dress pooled beside your feet. “Keep those on, darling.” Oh, only if you insist, daddy. You were going to run home in these red bottoms no matter what. “Why don’t you get those lips movin’, yeah?”

What in the fuck does that mean? Does he want you to suck him off too? He does. Right. You can do this. You’ve sucked every dick on campus, what difference does his make? It might be a little more wrinkly, balls might be more saggy, but plenty of guys have fucked up sacs. When you get on your knees next to her, Ashley takes your hand, gives it a squeeze as she works the shaft. Seriously, is this bitch leaving you on ball duty?

“Oh, you look so much like mommy, babydoll,” Leon tips his head back, runs his fingers through her silky bob. Does she find that hot? Being compared to her mom? If a guy said that to you, he’d be buried in a parking lot somewhere. Ashley takes him to the hilt, her button nose buried in dark hair, her throat bulging with his cock, and she’s not even gagging. She’s got skill. You gag a hell of a lot. But most of the time guys find it hot, ‘cause they start thinking they’re real big, brag that you couldn’t even make it to the balls. Really, you’re just not much of a giver. They taste weird, the burn isn’t pleasant, you just don’t really do a lot of cocksucking. Never got the appeal.

You make a meal of it still. Try to take his fat balls into your mouth, one at a time ‘cause they’re much too big, too heavy. Shouldn’t they be drained by this point in life? He’s like fucking old. Ashley and her daddy have it all. Nice cock, fancy suits, big car. Men don’t need much else. By the time you’ve managed to fit a single one in your mouth, suckling and licking along the seam, leaving him spit-slicked, Ashley’s making him cum down her throat.

She pulls off with a slick pop, cum drooling from the tip of his heavy cock, she puts a hand on the back of your head, forces her fingers into your mouth and keeps your tongue out. You feel the velvety head of his cock, dripping his salty seed in your mouth, he’s uncut on the fat. Cute. You like ‘em uncut. They look better that way. Like they’ve got a jacket. As he pumps himself, the head peeks out past the foreskin, nudges the tip of your tongue till he’s all done.

Ashley kisses you, swapping her spit and his cum into your mouth. She tastes like her raspberry lip balm. And cum. Lots of cum. Is this some initiation into the presidential candidate cult? Count you out.

“C’mere, my good girl,” Leon helps Ashley up, brushes off her clothes, uses a handkerchief from his breast pocket to clean up her messy face. And what do you get? Nothing. Every man for themselves, bitch. The heels hinder you from succeeding, but you hold onto the cabinet and stand all on your own. Didn’t need daddy’s help.

“Daddy,” Ashley whines, “I’m all wet.” Can you leave now? You gave the blowjob, more of a balljob on your part, but still, is it cool if you just slip out the back door. Or do they want you here for all this sweet talk too?

“You’re all wet, babydoll? Don’t worry ‘bout it, daddy’s gonna make it all better.” Are you in a porno right now? Is this all a huge setup? Where are the cameras? Shit, right. Cameras. You were supposed to be filming. Too late now, Leon grabs you by the wrist. Plops down on the chaise lounge, Ashley on one knee and you on the other. He’s got you by the tit and Ashley by the waist. How charming. Really shows what he sees in you.

Ashley kicks off her panties with ease. When she slid out of that cashmere miniskirt is lost on you, and where’d her bra go? Leon cranes his neck towards her, puckers his lip for a kiss that she gives to him instantly. They kiss more than they fucking breathe. He nudges you off of his lap, manspreads so it’s harder for you to sit comfortably. Why he put you on his lap in the first place? You don’t know. Maybe just to piss you off.

His ringed fingers part her puffy pussy, pink just like her nipples. She’s slick and shiny for him, doesn’t take much work to open her up. You watch her hole flutter when he takes them out, clenching around thin air, Ashley’s greedy. Even you know that. She needs everything in excess. God. Her cunt’s just as pretty as her face. Clit and folds sticking out past her lips, all pink and wet, wanna bite down on it. Needy little pussy that’s begging to be filled. Leon pinches her bud, plucks her nipples with his free hand. Ashley jumps with each touch, her chest heaves, eyes lidded.

Leon shoves his fingers in your mouth, coated in her arousal, candied as you lick it all up, every single drop. Pussy sweet just like the rest of her. Like she’s been dipped in a pot of sticky honey. “Ain’t it just the prettiest?” Leon hums, grins at you wolfishly, “My little girl got a pretty little pussy.”

“Daddy, you’re so sweet to me,” Ashley coos, her lashes dusting over her cheeks as her eyes close, his thick fingers stretching her open.

“That’s ‘cause you’re daddy’s princess, aren’t you?” Leon’s dick is hard again, standing proud against his stomach. Calm it, old man. Isn’t going multiple rounds bad for his heart? Is he on viagra? You wouldn’t put it past him. “Daddy’s spoiled little girl.”

Ashley throws her legs over his lap, sits so she’s facing him, sinks down onto his fat cock with such ease you choke on your saliva. Oh, so she’s like a fucking whore. Who takes big dick that easy? Her pussy swallows up the widest part of his cock, the base, leaves him glistening with her slick.

“Look at that,” Leon flicks her perky nipple, “takin’ daddy so fuckin’ well. All grown up now, aren’t you, babydoll?” You really don’t know if you’re supposed to be here anymore.

“No…” Ashley‘s little hands stroke down his broad chest, her nose scrunched as she grinds down into him, “I’m still daddy’s baby.”

“You’re always gonna be daddy’s baby,” Leon melts beneath her, he stops her hips from moving. Aw, she might be too intense for the old man. That girl fucks like a bunny, you’re not surprised. “Go on, sit.” Is he talking to you? He is. You take your seat between his thighs. Why you’re listening to him is beyond you. Okay, so maybe it’s turning you on a little. Like got you sopping wet, panties see-through kinda turned on. Shit. Pussy always thinking for you. Head says one thing and next minute you know you’re on your knees ‘cause Mr. President says so.

There’s some rustling, Ashley giggling, then your face to face with her sloppy cunt speared on his cock. Oh, that’s nasty. What a nasty old man. Fucking her like that. Full Nelson is just disrespectful to a preppy little lady like Ashley. Personally, you’d take her from behind. Watch her ass jiggle.

He doesn’t need to tell you what to do. Your tongue works quicker than your brain, lapping at her swollen clit as he fucks up into her, sucking on his balls, swiping up whatever mess she leaves behind on his dick. You’ve got a hand between your legs, grinding your clit into your fingers in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Ashley squeals, her toes curling as you latch onto her clit, you’re rewarded with a gush of her cum. Splashes your chin, dribbles down your neck, wetting your tits.

“Was that good, babydoll?” Leon hums low in her ear, teeth pulling at her pierced lobe. “Enough for you?”

“Yes, daddy,” Ashley yelps as your nose bumps her clit, tongue still working to clean her up, but it’s inevitable, each thrust of his cock gets her creamy again.

“Yeah? Baby’s all done?” Leon’s cock twitches inside of her, then he dumps his load in his kid. Stuffs his princess with her daddy’s cum. Pats her belly and cradles her as you sit on the ground dumbfounded.

“Gimme a minute ‘n we can go again, daddy,” Ashley yawns, letting him pamper her, head twisting so she can see you, a dopey smile plastered on her face.

“I’m gettin’ old, princess,” he chuckles, “don’t know if I can keep up with you.”

“Course you can, daddy,” Ashley strokes his prickly cheek, “you gotta take both of us this time, promise?”

Sorry Claire, looks like you’re not making your big break in the journalism scene anytime soon. Not like she deserves it anyway. Stupid bitch didn’t even believe you. Well, if he puts his dick in you and calls you his baby, you might let it go. Might ask Ashley if this can become a regular thing.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #ashley graham smut #ashley graham x reader #tw incest

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