His weight pins you into the mattress, thick fingers already buried deep, deep inside your soaked, velvety cunt, stretching you around them in a firm constant motion.

His forearm flexes as he pumps and pumps them in and out with a wet, filthy rhythm, thumb pressing into your little nub and knuckles brushing onto that sweet, sensitive spot that makes your thighs jerk over and over again.

"Shhh, babygirl," Joel murmurs, voice low. "Daddy's got you. Daddy's got his baby. Just let it happen, honey."

You're already crying—soft, small hiccuping sobs that shake in your chest—because it's too much, too fast, too overstimulating for your poor little cunt, and you've never ever felt anything like this. 

Oh and Joel knows you've never felt this way before. 

Your hands can only push weakly at his shoulders, and he won't move. Solid, immovable, pinning you completely under him, every ounce of his strength focused on squeezing another orgasm out of you.

"Daddy—please, I-I think I'm gonna—" Your voice cracks as fresh tears slip down your temples. The pressure in your belly is so unbearable, a hot, insistent throb that presses and presses. "I'm gonna pee, I can't—"

Joel's free hand slides up, palm broad and calloused, and presses firmly right below your belly button. The heel of it sinks into the soft flesh of your tummy, and the sensation makes your whole body jolt against him. 

"S'okey, baby. You ain't gonna pee. That's not what's happenin'." He places a kiss on your forehead. "You're gonna squirt for Daddy, that's all. My messy girl just needs a little help."

His fingers curl again, scissoring them inside you, and the wet sound is obscene—slick, squelching, constant. Your thighs tremble around his wrist, trying to close, but he's wedged between them, hips braced wide so you can't escape the relentless drag of his knuckles. 

Every thrust and rub makes your clit throb oversensitive, swollen and aching, you can feel how puffy your folds are, how they cling to his fingers on every pull.

"T-too much," you whimper, voice breaking. Fresh tears spill, hot, salty, melting into your hair. "Daddy, please, I can't—"

He hushes you again, leaning down so his beard brushes your cheek, breath warm against your ear. 

"You can, honey. You're doin' so good for me." He murmurs, his free hand going behind your head and making you look at his fingers disappearing in your hole. "Pretty cunt takin' my fingers like it was made for 'em. So tight, so wet—fuck, listen to you." 

He punctuates the words with a particularly deep, hard thrust, and a gush of slick spills out around his knuckles, soaking the sheet beneath you.

"Oh—" you gasp, your hands fist into his flannel shirt, tugging, but it's useless. 

He's too damn heavy, too solid, and he knows it.

The knowledge sits in his pretty brown eyes when he pulls back just enough to watch your face; dark, patient, maybe a little amused.

"Push all you want, babygirl. Ain't movin' till you give it to me."

The pressure crests then again, sharper this time, and your back arches hard off of the bed. 

Joel's hand on your tummy presses down firmer and firmer, pinning you, making the overstimulation worse. The combination—his fingers stroking that spongy spot inside you, the weight of his palm, his body lying on top of you—snaps something loose.

"There she goes."

You sob his name as it hits, a sudden, violent rush that sprays out around his fingers in a hot, messy arc. It soaks the sheets, splashes up his wrist, wets his pants and keeps coming and coming in pulsing, squelching waves while your cunt clenches desperately around him. 

Joel groans low in his chest, the sound filthy and approving. "There it is. That's my girl. Look how much you had in ya, so messy." 

But he doesn't stop. 

His fingers keep moving, slower now but still deep, working you through every aftershock until you're a twitching and whimpering mess. 

The overstimulation burns, sharp and electric, every nerve raw and singing. You try to twist away but his body  keeps you caged, your hips shifting just enough to grind the heel of his palm against your clit on every stroke.

"Shhh, I know," he soothes. "Daddy's too strong for you, ain't he? Can't get away even if you wanted to. And you don't really want to, do you? Feels too good, havin' your old man ruin that pretty pussy."

Your answer is a broken moan, hips jerking helplessly as another smaller gush leaks out around his fingers. 

Joel chuckles, low and warm, finally easing his hand free. 

Your cunt flutters around nothing, empty, aching,  slick dripping down the cleft of your ass to join the wet patch beneath you.

He shifts his weight then, one knee nudging your thigh wider, and the blunt head of his cock nudges against your entrance suddenly. 

He's thick, hot, the ridge catching on your swollen folds as he rocks forwards just enough to tease. 

You shake your head immediately, a whine of protest leaving your lips. "S'too much, daddy..."

"S'okey, honey. You're okay. We're gonna do that again," he murmurs, and your stomach flips. "But this time, i'm gonna fuck it out of you. Fill you up all nice and slow, and make you squirt on my cock, over and over till you can't think straight. Ya hear me, sweet girl?"

You can't do anything but nod, tears still clinging to your lashes, body trembling under him. 

This overstimulation in your body has you floaty, every sensation now amplified: the drag of his cockhead through your slick, the way his chest hair rasps against your nipples when he leans down, the steady press of his hand still splayed across your tummy because he owns it.

Joel pushes in slow, the stretch burning sweet  and so, so deep, making your walls flutter around him, still so sensitive from the earlier release. 

He groans when he bottoms out, hips flush to yours, and stays there for a moment, rubbing your little clit, letting you feel every inch. 

"Theere we go, just take me. You're so tight, honey." he breathes. "Even after all that, still squeezin' me like you don't wanna let go."

When he starts to move—it's long, deliberate strokes that grind against every oversensitive spot inside you. 

Each thrust punches little gasps and pitiful whimpers from your throat, and the wet sound of your cunt taking him is louder now, slick and messy from everything he's already pulled out of you. 

His hand stays on your belly, thumb stroking soothing circles even as his hips snap harder, driving you up the bed.

"Gonna make you squirt again," he promises, voice rough with effort. "Gonna feel you gush around my cock, soak the both of us. And you're gonna take it, 'cause Daddy knows what you need better than you do."

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in, but there's no fight left—just the overwhelming rush of sensation as he fucks you through the overstimulation, each thrust pushing you closer to that same unbearable edge. 

Joel's voice stays in your ear the whole time, sweet and condescending, praising and guiding you through every wave until you're sobbing his name again and again while the sheets are ruined completely beneath you.

This makes me kinda want to write a piss kink fic but...I already got so much hate for writing fauxcest im a LITTLE traumatised😭😭

He met you through Claire. He liked to talk to her from time to time and see how she was doing. Although, their conversations weren’t very consistent. It never took long for her to bring up the same name each time. Yours. You worked at TerraSave with her. She always spoke so highly of you.

Maybe he felt a little envious that she found friendships easier than he did. Yet, it did leave him curious as to who you were. He eventually met you one day. There you were, attached to Claire’s hip. It was nice to put a face to a name.

He couldn’t deny the sudden attraction. He reached out to you in secret after everything was said and done.

Claire would forgive him for stealing her friend away, wouldn’t she? Now, instead of him hearing about you, Claire was hearing about him through you. You knew she probably found you very insufferable when that engagement ring appeared on your finger.

He slowly circled the parking lot of TerraSave, scanning the remaining vehicles. There weren’t many. Just the usual workers who stayed after hours to finish their assignments. You and him had that bad habit of overworking. He eventually spotted your car. He should know it. He bought it for you after all.

Leon held back his smirk when he saw the empty parking spots surrounding your car.

Perfect. Everything was going according to plan.

He parked beside you and turned off the engine. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. He pocketed his keys, unbuckled his seatbelt, and grabbed the bouquet. He checked over it. Still in good condition. He opened the car door, his boots stepping on gravel.

He knew very well what he was doing. He intentionally wore his usual attire that you always had your gaze wandering over to him. His leather jacket, his dark jeans, a tight fitting shirt underneath. Though, he did feel a little ridiculous because it reminded him of being in school and trying to get your crush’s attention.

Leon closed his car door and held the bouquet in both hands. His eyes went from your car to his. What would be better? For you to find him on yours or his? He decided on yours, and when he was practicing which pose he should go with, he got caught by some young male employee walking by. The two of them stared at each other and had an unspoken agreement to pretend that didn’t happen.

He laid the bouquet on the hood of your car and leaned against it. He closed his eyes briefly, taking another moment to inhale and exhale. He would fully admit that he was nervous.

He began to think back to the moments that led him here. Working under the DSO and the horrors that he’d seen had affected him deeply. He knew it, and instead of relying on you or others for help, he turned to his vices. Leon allowed his drinking habits to get out of order. The arguments ensued. You told him to stop, he did for a few months, and he’d come home drunk after a grueling mission.

He never knew when your breaking moment occurred. He only remembered that when you said the word, divorce, he snapped out of his drunken haze. Only then did he start begging for you to reconsider. He’d even fallen to his knees, arms wrapped around your legs, telling you how he’d get the help he needed. Anything to get you to stay. But you were firm.

It hurt so badly to see you sign your name followed by “Kennedy” on those divorce papers.

More than all those times he got launched into oblivion by some bio weapon.

You separated. He moved out to some apartment. Now he drank because his life was shitty and you were gone.

You two were very cordial with each other. There weren’t any hard feelings and Leon never blamed you for the decision you took. He pushed you to it. So, in this new arrangement, he felt like he owed you something. He paid his and your bills, he sent you money, he took care of any problems you might have, and he bought you any necessities. And at least, in this way, he was still taking care of you like he promised you in his vows.

He got better after he helped Chris take down Arias. He focused on himself. And really, he wanted to fix things with you in the following months of his mission in Alcatraz.

But when his thumb hovered over your contact in his phone, he stopped. Something held him back. The doubt crawled. What if he found himself falling into that dark space again? The thoughts continued to fester. He wasn’t good enough, and you deserved better.

2016. 2017. 2018. 2019. 2020.

The years started to fly by. Every single damn time he went to call you, he held himself back. When he finally decided, no more, he found out he was infected. Despair filled his heart. Why now? He couldn’t go back to you like this. So he put it on hold.

He would fix things with you once he found a cure for this. Helping himself and the others infected with the same thing was part of his motivation. The other part? The absolute refusal of dying before repairing your relationship.

The mission was brutal. But like all the others, he pushed through. There were times his infection got the better of him and he did lose a little bit of hope. He was on edge wondering if his time was finally up.

Whenever he fell unconscious, he saw you. Your bright and glossy eyes when he got on one knee. You, in your beautiful white dress, approaching where he waited at the altar. Leon remembered shedding tears at how gorgeous you looked on your shared special day.

No, he couldn’t die here. Not yet. Not when he still wanted you.

He pushed through, and succeeded. You were his motivation.

And once he settled back to normal, he made his plan. Now, in the parking lot of TerraSave, he’d wait here as long as he needed to for you to come out. He opened his eyes again, filled with determination as the sky changed colors.

The parking lot began to empty as more employees clocked out.

Until—

Click. Click. Click. The sound your heels made on the pavement made his head snap in your direction. You were searching for your keys in your purse. You let out an annoyed huff. Why didn’t you get them before you left your office? Same problem at the end of every day. The lanyard around your neck was also fueling your annoyance. You jerked it back into place, finally finding your car keys.

You snatched them out of your purse and hooked the straps in the crook of your elbow. You lifted your head and came to a sudden stop.

Your brows knitted together. Were you… Were you seeing things?

Leon Kennedy was leaning comfortably against your car, his arms crossed over his chest. You spotted the bouquet behind him. The corners of his lips quirked upwards at the way you reacted to seeing him. He pushed himself off the hood of your car, reaching for the bouquet.

“Long day?” His voice cut the silence.

Yes, it was. You wanted to go home and throw yourself on your couch. What was your ex husband doing here? He looked better.

You took cautious steps closer. The bouquet he bought for you was beautiful, and he got your favorite flowers too.

“What are you doing?” You asked, the suspicion in your tone very much clear. His smile grew a little wider and he chuckled.

“I can’t come see my ex wife and give her some flowers after a stressful day?” He asked. You were standing closer to him now. He briefly checked out your ID attached to your lanyard. Oh, the giddiness he felt seeing “Kennedy” in bold print on the simple piece of plastic. He knew you never changed your last name after the divorce. “Are we on bad terms and I wasn’t informed?”

Leon watched your eyes slowly narrow. Damn. You were getting suspicious of him. How dare you still be quick to catch on to his schemes.

He held out the bouquet, “These are for you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You waited a couple seconds before finally taking the bouquet from his grasp. Your fingers grazed his rough palm briefly. Although you thought nothing of it, Leon felt his heart pound harder against his chest.

Just like the first time he met you, he was instantly drawn into you. He noticed your features. He could still see the younger you in there. It reminded him how you were both much older now and all the time spent apart. He should have been there the last decade. To see you and him slowly age together.

He found you so much more attractive. A part of him wanted to sit and stare at you for hours on end.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face which brought him out of his trace. His eyebrows quirked upwards for a moment.

“Did you hear what I said?” Leon blinked. He gave you a sheepish look and shook his head. You huffed and frowned. You were cradling the bouquet in your arms now, “I asked why are you here.” You weren’t mad or hostile, just curious to see him appear where you worked. He hasn’t done this since the divorce.

He didn’t respond right away. He tilted his head back slightly. He was contemplating on what to say. Or how to explain the way he’d felt since the first time he wanted to reach out to you.

Meanwhile, you kept staring at him with that look of curiosity. But on the inside? You were just as affected by his presence as he was by yours.

“I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders became tense at his apology. It was sincere, you knew it. Not like the one he gave you from his knees when you told him you wanted a divorce. Those were desperate attempts to keep you. Even he was aware he didn’t mean them.

“I’m sorry,” Leon repeated, his eyes meeting yours. “For everything. For being the reason why our marriage failed. For not being the husband I told you I was going to be… You didn’t deserve any of that. I don’t blame you for leaving me because you tried to help me, and I didn’t want any help.”

An unknown feeling in your body slowly began to disappear. Your throat tighten. This closure you were getting with Leon was something you didn’t realize you needed. For a brief moment, you were sent back to those early days when you were dating. He was still the same rookie cop from Raccoon City, slowly being shaped into an elite agent for the government.

“And I don’t blame you for no longer loving me.” He muttered, his expression becoming rather grim. It had been a while since he was this open with you. “I just need you to know that I’m still in love with you, and that I’m truly sorry.”

“Leon… I didn’t… I didn’t leave you because I stopped loving you. I never did.” You admitted. Your admission of how you truly felt made a flicker of surprise appear in his eyes. “I left you because if that’s how you were going to spend the rest of our lives together? … I wasn’t going to be able to live like that and watch you keep turning yourself into someone you weren’t.”

Did he really think because he became an alcoholic for a moment in his life that you’d stopped loving him? He couldn’t be more wrong. Yes, you hated that vice. It had destroyed him and taken control of him. But during the time he drowned his sorrows in heavy liquor, you never stopped seeing him as your Leon. He was just your misguided Leon.

He spent all these years believing you’d stopped loving him because of his addiction. This moment caused something to shift inside him. You’d given him all the confirmation and confidence he needed.

Leon slipped a hand into the front pocket of his jeans. His gaze went to the bouquet and then to you again.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” He asked. Leon watched you press your lips together, clearly not trying to smile. He chuckled softly, “You know you want to.”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky attitude, “I’ll send you my schedule.” In all honesty, if you didn’t send it to him, he’d be okay with that. It would give him all the more reason to start pestering you since you wanted to play hard to get this time around. He did, however, feel a sharp pain in his chest when you mentioned a schedule.

It was a reminder how he no longer knew exactly what time you’d come home, whether you’d be flying out of state on a random Tuesday morning, or leaving the country.

Leon plucked your car keys from between your fingers. You gave another confused look as he pressed the unlock button on the remote. He walked over to the driver’s side and opened it. He held it open, nodding his head and motioning you to get inside.

Great, he’s starting already.

You made your way and stood in the middle. You shifted your purse, setting it on the passenger seat. You slipped into the driver’s seat, moving the bouquet from your lap and beside your purse.

He dipped his head down, planting an unexpected kiss on your cheek. You would have thought it was sweet… If he didn’t go and mess it all up by sinking his teeth softly into your flesh and giving it a pull. You hissed. He always did that in the early mornings when he was rushing off to the DSO because he chose to stay in bed with you a little longer.

“Stop it!” You covered your cheek with one hand and swatted him repeatedly with the other. He snickered, shielding himself behind his arms from your soft blows. You wiped away the saliva that wet your palm on the plastic wrap surrounding the flowers.

“What?” He laughed one more time. He rested his forearm against the top part of the car. “How do you expect me to act after my ex wife admits she still has a crush on me?”

“Leon, please do not call it a crush.” You rubbed your forehead with your fingertips. Here came the headache, “We’re 49 years old.”

“I’ve missed you.” He said. A smirk appeared on his face when you glared up at him through your lashes. He patted the roof of your car and dangled your keys in front of you. He quickly moved them out of the way when you tried to grab them, “C’mon. Are you going to make me work for it? ‘Cause you know I will.”

“I guess… I’ve missed you too.” You finally relented.

“Oh, you guess?” Leon mocked. You grabbed the keys in one swift movement from him.

“Get out of here before I call the security guard on you for trespassing.” You scoffed, putting your seatbelt on. He let out a loud gasp.

“I’m scared.” Leon sarcastically exclaimed. He clutched the front of his shirt, going on with his act of being terrified, “You’re threatening my clean record and my background as a cop.” You clenched your jaw tightly, turning your head the other way. He knew you were trying to control your smile and keep yourself from laughing at his jokes. But you broke. He heard the soft chuckle and you shook your head.

“You’re still annoying.” You looked over at him again. A silence settled. Just you and him staring at each other.

He decided to let you go. Leon closed your door, and walked around the front of the car. He heard the engine turn on. He nearly stopped to open the passenger side door and pretend like he was getting in. Let’s not push your buttons too much.

The two of you drove home on separate roads, miles apart like you had been the last 13 years. The only difference today? The two of you wore the same, identical smile and thought about each other.

Leon is in the familiar room you two once used to share. He’s in the same king sized bed with you wrapped up in his embrace. The feel of your bare skin pressed against his after all these years is so surreal. You’re fast asleep with your head tucked under his chin. You’re exhaling softly, your breath hitting his neck.

His fingertips are running up and down your spine in a slow manner. He’s awake, enjoying this feeling of being content. When was he the happiest, he wonders. Was it the day you exchanged vows on the altar or was it now when he finally had you again?

It had to be this very moment.

He kissed the top of your head, letting his lips linger. A mischievous smile appeared. He quickly rolled you two over, the sheets rustling as he moved your bodies. His weight on top of you pinned you to the mattress. You felt the disturbance in your peaceful slumber.

“Ugh… Leon,” You groaned in a drowsy manner. He grinned, noticing the twitch in your brows. He leaned up until his lips were by your ear.

“It’s your turn to hold me.” He mumbled. Leon began kissing your jawline, slowly moving down and down, until he came to the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapped weakly around his shoulders. He felt your nails lightly scratching his nape. He hummed and closed his eyes. His face buried into your neck, taking in your scent.

“awn- c’mon, sweetheart.” his eyes dragged over you body, taking in the very few millimeters of space that you created between you two before pulling you back down onto cock making you gasp for air.

your fingers folding inwards, clawing into the flesh of jack’s chest as he buries himself further inside your pussy making your insides choke around his length, involuntarily twitching and squeezing as your spine arches forward — pressing yourself against him.

jack feigns a frown, biting back an uncontrollable smile because he just thinks that you look so fucking adorable beneath him right now.

eyes glossed over with lashes clumping together from those thick tears fall down your cheeks, and the little sniffles you take every other second to not snot yourself as you cry from an indescribable amount of pleasure. you can’t even moan jack’s name without it turning into an incoherent mess. “j—j .. ja-nnghn.”

“that’s it, my sweet girl.” jack coos, a gentle rasps scratching at his throat as he brings one of the hands locked behind you knees to your face. gently cradling the side of your head as his thumb brushes away any stray tears. “so damn sensitive, all for me.” he watches you nuzzle into his palm, and it makes his cock twitch as he lets out a gravelly groan before grinding his hips deeper into you — a direct target against the spot that makes your bladder feel instantly full.

“i can’t, i can’t, mmff— you c-can’t!” you yelp, pleading as you shake your head feeling the throb of your clit want to burst. “shh.. yes you can, darlin’.” he shushes, ducking down to press his forehead against yours.

his eyes on yours, convincing you that it’s possible as his thrusts never stop bullying into that sweet spot. he has no intention of stopping, even with your begging. “please, ja—mphck!” a moan rips through your throat as jack delivers the cruelest, toe curling stroke that makes you go completely mute as your eyes roll back to your skull.

your body quivers under his, mouth open with no words coming out as you take each and every thrust he feeds your abused pussy.

“look at you, baby— you’re doin’ it right now.” he hums satisfyingly, watching you choke to find inaudible words as his groan lingers. “i know, sweetheart i know— jj knows it’s a lot for you, yeah.” he whispers, lips grazing against yours, “it’ll all be over soon, okay baby?” he assures, as his hips tell the complete opposite. “just keep singin’ my name would’ya’.”