combining this plus another ask abt scissoring with t4t leon!! masculine and feminine terms used for leon and readers genitalia

the further you and leon get into dating, the more bold he gets with his ideas. although he always is careful when bringing new things into the bedroom, sort of circling around the idea until you notice he wants something. it's almost doglike in behavior, with a noticable glint in his eyes once you're able to pinpoint what he wants.

unless you aren't able to read him, then he's just going to have to do what he hates (voice his own needs). he'll do it in a messy makeout session, where you're already pinned underneath him, head pressed into the plush of your pillows, his hands roving over your arms. he tenses a bit before striking, sort of like a snake before his hands roll down to your hips. one squeeze and he moves further down, forcing your legs apart in his grip.

throughout the years of all the different holsters and belts leon's had to quickly put on and off, he's gotten a talent for undressing you and himself in record time. this skill is shown best in times like these, where he's desperate to see you in the way he's been fantasizing about for days, weeks, and probably months.

the scruff of his beard brushes over your forehead as he positions himself above you, your own pants long gone, boxers thrown to the wind. leon tugged his down enough, his cock already swollen between his folds, a mess of dark pubic hair framing it like a work of art. there's a shimmering layer of arousal over it all, and maybe some sweat too. before too much drool can collect in the back of your mouth, he's slotting himself between your legs, taking one of your own legs to put under his own, his muscles tense as he poses you just how he envisioned.

"good. yes- just like that. good boy." he'll praise, a sweet gruffness in the back of his throat, maybe even a voice crack hitting when he finally slots his cunt against yours.

he rolls his hips once, twice, thrice- and soon you stop counting, his dick pressing against your own, his hips bucking at the sensation, the closeness of it all. he can feel your hole clench with each thrust, feel you get wetter under him, a series of choked moans and whines leaving you.

it's nearly musical, the pace leon takes with you, pressing himself closer and closer, his form overtaking your own. not often does he use his size against you like this, bullying his way so you're right where he needs.

his nose wrinkles as he focuses, the wetness between your cunts mixing, a slick noise echoing through the room, "fuck. c'mon. are you close, hun?"

he doesn't look up to check his answer, but he does speed up, bucking his hips as if he was in heat. an excitement buries deep in his bones, seeing your own cock twitch and harden just like his, even moreso if it's smaller than his own, a sick sort of pride in his chest when he wins his mental dick measuring competition.

even after you cum, he keeps going. the slicker you get, the easier it gets for his cock to slide against your hole, nearly popping inside. the euphoria of fucking you stupid with his own dick has leon on cloud 9. most likely, you'll be stuck here for the next few hours.

SOON-TO-BE-FWB!DICK GRAYSON, who never would’ve touched the idea of a casual, no-strings relationship with a ten foot pole. He didn’t want to use someone, it felt inherently wrong. To only expect sex and nothing else on top of it, it didn’t sit right with him.

But when you, his coworker and long time mission partner, pushed him against a side table and knocked over his key dish in the pursuit of your lips on his and his clothes on the ground, he found himself melting into it. Reaching out and gripping the back of your neck and moaning as your lips dragged over his Adam’s apple.

“I normally get wined and dined first—” he joked breathlessly before his subsequent whine was swallowed be your eager lips to shut him up. Your hands tugged off his v-neck (cashmere, by the way) and let it frump to the floor in an undignified pile.

Oh, fuck it.

Your panties bunched at your ankles as he fucked into you, palm flat on the wall and his moans echoing into your neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the hollow. “Yeah, fuuuuck, baby, just like that,” He panted, his button up hanging open. Maybe he was more into this idea than once thought.

Your knees were at his hips, the side table rattling with every upward stroke of his cock that kissed your cervix beautifully. Holy shit, you literally had no words.

“You gonna come, honey?” Hypocritical when he was five seconds away from coming, but he couldn’t help it plus the inherent need to know he wasn’t going to embarrass himself. But the way your pussy walls were fluttering around his dick, you were too. Thank heavens.

He cupped your jaw and consumed your soul through your lips, burying himself in you to the hilt one last time, a deep moan from his mouth shocking one out from you too as you too came five seconds after him. Not really kissing anymore, just his nose smushed awkwardly on yours so you could see the pretty flush on his cheeks and his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, panting as if he’d run a marathon.

“Shitfuck.” He breathed, the most he’d cursed within ten seconds, wiping a bead of sweat off your temple before kissing it. A little too romantic for your tastes, but you allowed it. “Oh, that’s not right.” He muttered, his stupidly hot blue eyes flicking over your naked body.

Was he gonna say this should never happen again? “What’s not right?”

He leaned forward, running the tip of his nose over yours so you jugular. His floppy hair tickled your jaw. “I didn’t,” He kissed a random spot softly, “eat you out first.”

“Did you want to?” You blinked.

“To be honest, I didn’t see this situation coming,” You both laughed breathlessly, but then his finger ran over your slit lazily, collecting your juices with a quiet shlick. Your thighs trembled.

“Shiiiit—”

“But after you came on my cock like that,” He began to genuflect, “I wanna feel it on my tongue.”

© 2026 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED : SRENIQUE. DO NOT MODIFY, REPOST, PLAGIARISE, TAKE DIRECT INSPIRATION FROM OR CLAIM MY WORK AS YOUR OWN WITHOUT PERMISSION OR GIVING CREDIT.

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓾𝓼 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

‎ꫂ᭪݁ pair: leon kennedy x fem!medic reader

‎ꫂ᭪݁ wc : 6.2k

‎ꫂ᭪݁ summary : four years of built up tension between you and leon kennedy finally snaps during a mission in an abandoned russian sanatorium and after a reckless argument you both had at the DSO HQ, his restraint finally snaps , leaving both of you with far more damage than either of you know how to name.

⚠︎ warnings : implied age gap (reader is in her mid 20s,leon is 49) , creampie, rough sex, hate sex/angry sex, semi-public sex, unsafe location, risky sex during active mission, dub con if you squint ,superior/subordinate dynamic, power imbalance, arguing, emotional tension, explicit content, manhandling, spanking, hair pulling, choking, knife intimidation, degradation, dirty talk,a tiny bit of praise, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, emotional neglect after sex, angst, unresolved feelings, mean leon, not proofread

‎ꫂ᭪݁ a/n: please take note that this was originally a chapter from a very long fanfic i wrote for my oc and leon which is he's like this lmao, i promise i'll make him kinder in the part 2 if i will finish it.i had re9 leon in my mind for this but re4 could also work out

the first thing you noticed was the cold air around you.

it was not the dramatic, merciful kind of cold that announced itself all at once and then faded into numbness. it was quieter than that. meaner. it seeped beneath the cuffs of your jacket, slid under the tight leather of your gloves, and settled deep into your bones with a slow, deliberate cruelty.

the tires of his porsche churned viciously through the frozen mud, the engine emitting a low, rhythmic rattle that only served to deepen the crushing silence inside the foggy forest. outside the reinforced windows, the Russian twilight was bleeding into a dense, oppressive black, swallowing the pines and suffocating the isolated atmosphere. the fog rolled over the hood of the car in thick, ghostly waves, illuminated only by the sharp, cutting glare of the headlights.

you stared out the passenger window, your pale reflection ghosting over the frosted glass. your black jacket was zipped tight to your throat, the rigid collar pressing uncomfortably against the soft fabric of your black turtleneck. you kept your hands shoved deep into your pockets, your knuckles white, fingers curled into tight fists to hide the faint, betraying tremor of leftover adrenaline and the creeping cold.

beneath your skirt, the thick black tights offered little protection against the chill that seemed to seep directly through the floorboards and into your bones.

and to your left, Leon held the steering wheel with a loose, practiced grip that betrayed nothing of the violence coiled beneath his skin. his profile was carved from the stark shadows of the dashboard’s faint illumination, his jaw set in a hard, unyielding line, a muscle ticking faintly just beneath his ear. he was driving, his eyes fixed on the treacherous path ahead, utterly detached from the suffocating tension occupying the space between you.

the two of you hadn't really spoken since hunnigan gave you the details for this mission.

the argument at the DSO office hours prior had been loud enough to shake the dust from the rafters. it had been a complete mess of explicit words about protocols you ignored, a breached perimeter , and the undeniable fact that you had chosen to follow your own medical instincts over his orders.

and he had been furious ever since.

It wasn't the explosive anger of a lesser man, his voice had dropped into that terrifying, deadened register that usually meant someone was about to get court-martialed or maybe even worse.

you hadn't bothered to apologise at all. not then, and not now either. instead, you had met his cold gaze with a silent, defensive deflection, locking your jaw and refusing to give him an inch of the submission he demanded as your superior.

now, four agonizing hours later, the silence between you was no longer just an absence of sound. It was a physical weight, thick with four years of built-up tension, near-misses, and an unacknowledged, suffocating attraction that tasted more like iron and blood than the romance you initially imagined of and hoped for. every time the car hit a rut, jolting your shoulders mere inches from touching, the air in the cabin seemed to thin, making it harder to breathe.

Leon slowed the vehicle, the gears shifting with a harsh, mechanical grind. the headlights swept across a rusted, iron gate hanging precariously off its shattered stone hinges. beyond it sat the sanatorium.

the stone facade was grand but utterly ruined, a decaying, brutalist monument of the old Soviet concrete overgrown with dead, creeping ivy and stained with decades of black rot. its windows were shattered, empty black maws staring back at them like dead eyes. It looked entirely abandoned, swallowed whole by the merciless silence of the forest.

the engine cut out.

the sudden, absolute absence of noise made the interior of the car feel instantly smaller, the walls pressing in tight. the ticking of the cooling engine block sounded like a countdown.

"check your comms," Leon commanded.

his voice was clipped, completely devoid of any warmth or familiarity.

you didn't turn to look at him. instead, you stubbornly kept your eyes on the decaying building, your breath catching slightly in your throat before reaching up. you adjusted the earpiece hidden beneath the thick strands of your dark hair, the freezing fingers brushing the hard plastic.

"comms are green."

"we move quick, we stay on line, and you stay behind me," he said, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the dark, gaping entrance of the main building. he didn't turn his head. he didn't seek your acknowledgment. but in the silence, the thick leather of his tactical gloves creaked as his fingers tightened imperceptibly on the steering wheel. "if I tell you to halt, you don't step. am I clear?"

you let out a short breathy exhale, not quite a laugh, but mocking enough to fracture the quiet. the sound was sharp in the cold, contained space. you finally turned your head, dark eyes tracing the broa line of his shoulder, the tactical vest that bulked his frame, up to the sharp angle of his cheekbone.

"you're always clear, Leon," you murmured, your voice steady, refusing to rise to his bait. "it's the flexibility you lack."

leon's head turned around slowly. his blue eyes were icy, catching the dim, fading light of the dashboard and pinning you in place. there was no mirth in his expression, no soft exasperation. there was only a dark, fraying patience that looked entirely too close to snapping.

"this isn't Washington," he said, his voice dropping an octave, the vibration of it settling low in your stomach. "you break line out here, and I leave you in the dirt. don't test my patience tonight."

you held his stare. your chin tilted upward a fraction of an inch. nor did you didn't offer a verbal agreement. knowing exactly how to challenge him, how to drag that suffocating control of his into the light just enough to see the cracks.

you wanted that reaction of his.

you needed the silent proof that beneath the ice, you could still disrupt him.

then, you broke the eye contact first, pushing your heavy door open before he could approve the movement. the biting, subzero russian air rushed into the cabin, hitting your face like a physical blow. you stepped out, your heavy boots crunching violently into the frozen gravel.

a moment later, the heavy slam of the driver’s side door echoed through the courtyard. leon was there, his boots hitting the ground with a deliberate force. he didn't look at you as he slung his assault rifle over his shoulder, the metal clasps clinking in the quiet.

as he passed you to take the lead, he didn't offer a lot of space. his arm brushed hard against yours, a brief, unnecessarily rough contact. it wasn't accidental though .it was a physical assertion of space, and the friction sent a sharp jolt of unwanted, pooling heat straight through you, settling deep in your core. you swallowed hard, your jaw tight, and fell into step exactly three paces behind him.

both of you entered through a shattered side door, the flashlights cutting through the thick, stagnant air of the sanatorium.

the interior was a sprawling wasteland of rusted iron, shattered tile, and damp decay. the smell was atrocious, a mix of wet concrete, black mold, and the metallic tang of old, dried blood that never quite left these places. water dripped from the ceiling somewhere deep in the pitch-black corridors, a slow, maddening clock ticking away in the dark.

you followed him silently, your eyes naturally tracking the broad, unyielding span of his shoulders beneath his gear.

for four years. four years of patching him up in sterile medical bays. four years of stitching his torn skin, pulling shrapnel from his flesh, of watching him bleed out and then return to the field like a machine devoid of a nervous system. you knew the topography of his body better than anyone else at in the DSO, every scar on his torso, the exact, shallow rhythm of his breathing when he was trying to hide his pain. but you had never been allowed past the psychological ice. the uncertainty of what he actually felt, if he felt anything at all beyond a simmering, professional irritation toward your stubbornness, was an old, chronic ache. and tonight, in the freezing dark, that ache had turned volatile.

leon stopped at a four-way intersection, his boot coming down softly. his flashlight beam swept across a collapsed ceiling in the northern corridor, illuminating a mountain of jagged concrete and exposed rebar.

"come on,to the left." he muttered, his voice barely carrying over the sound of dripping water.

you stepped up, closing the distance between you until you were entirely out of his designated formation. you stood beside him, your own light sweeping down the eastern corridor toward a row of heavy, reinforced iron doors.

"the medical wing should be there though" you said, your tone clinical, refusing to acknowledge his command. "if there's any remaining sample from the old research, it’ll be in the sub-basement labs. left takes us to the patient housing."

"we secure the ground floor first" leon said.

his hand shot out, catching your jacket sleeve before you could take another step. he pulled you back half a step. the movement wasn't gentle. his grip was tight, his thick, leather-clad fingers digging sharply through the heavy material of your coat and into the muscle of your upper arm.

"I said stay behind me."

you tensed, your breath flaring white in the freezing air. you yanked your arm out of his grasp with a sharp, violent jerk, your dark eyes flashing in the peripheral backscatter of your flashlights.

you didn't raise your voice, but your words were laced with venom. "I'm not a child, leon. i know how to navigate a clear corridor. the structural integrity to the east looks stable enough to cross."

leon turned fully toward you. he didn't speak immediately. he took a slow, deliberate step into your personal space, towering over you until his chest was nearly brushing the zipper of your jacket. he angled his body, forcing you to look up at him. the ambient smell of the rotting building faded, entirely overpowered by the scent of him, the cold air, rich leather, gun oil, and that deep, familiar musk of his skin. it dizzying, heavy, and intoxicating, despite the crushing harshness of his posture.

"i don't give a damn what it looks like to you," he hissed, the words vibrating with a suppressed rage. "you don't command this unit. i do. you follow the protocol I set, or you sit in the vehicle and wait for extraction."

you held your ground, refusing to lean back.

"the protocol that puts us an hour behind schedule?" you challenged, your voice dropping into a low, cutting whisper. you could feel the heat radiating off his body, contrasting violently with the sub-zero air of the hallway. your chest rose and fell with ragged, uneven breaths. "you're letting your anger from earlier cloud your judgment. it's inefficient, and you know it."

leon’s eyes darkened at your comment, the blue shifting into something entirely black and volatile in the shadows. he stared down at you, his jaw clenching so hard you could hear the faint grind of his teeth. for a long, agonizing second, the silence between you was deafening. the air grew impossibly thick, weighed down by an unwanted, heavy heat that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature of the decaying hospital. his broad chest heaved against his tactical rig, his legendary restraint visibly fraying, snapping at the edges under your continued defiance.

he didn't argue,nor did he didn't defend his tactics. he simply leaned in a fraction closer, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a split second before snapping back to your eyes.

"i said left." he repeated. It was a guttural growl that vibrated deep in his chest. "move, now."

the two of you walked in silence down the eastern wing, the rotted wooden floorboards groaning in protest beneath your combined weight.

you deliberately, stubbornly kept your pace just slightly out of sync with his. dragging your boots a fraction of a second too late, stepping a little too heavy. it was a petty, silent defiance, but you knew he could hear it. every time your heel clicked against a stray piece of broken tile, you felt his presence shift ahead of you. you could feel his focus narrowing, his attention heavy and watching, tracking your every movement through the gloom even with his back turned.

Afterwards,both of you reached the end of the hall, pushing through a set of swinging doors that hung limply on rusted hinges.

the room beyond was massive, a circular, cavernous space that looked like an old, brutalist operating theater. in the center of the room sat a long, heavy metal surgical table, pitted with dark rust and stained with decades of stagnant water. high above, a shattered glass dome let in the faint, anemic light of the moon, casting long, twisted shadows across the cracked tiles.

the air here was significantly colder. It bit at any exposed skin, your breaths escaping in thick, white plumes that hung in the air before dissipating into the dark.

you stepped away from him, approaching a tall metal cabinet sagging in the corner. the flashlight beam reflected off a row of shattered glass apothecary jars and the dull gray of ruined gauze.

"nothing here," you murmured, your voice flat, devoid of the earlier heat. you ran a gloved finger over the rim of a broken jar. "just old surgical tools. It’s a dead end."

"step away from the center of the room," leon said.

he was standing near the doorway, his rifle lowered but ready, his flashlight scanning the high, vaulted ceiling above the surgical table. the beam illuminated deep fissures running through the concrete.

you heard him very clear. his tone was authoritative. but the urge to push him, to find out exactly where his breaking point lay after hours of silent torture, was a sudden, blinding fever in your blood. you turned away from the cabinet, deliberately ignoring the command, and stepped closer to the rusted metal table in the dead center of the room to inspect a tray of degraded instruments.

you didn't even look at him.

"the ceiling is fine, Leon. you're being paranoid. we need to check the structural base of this table to see if there's a sub-floor—"

a loud, sharp crack echoed like a gunshot from the impenetrable shadows above.

before you could process the sound, before you could even tilt your head up, a massive, heavy chunk of concrete and rotting plaster rained down from the dome. it plummeted through the darkness and shattered violently against the very edge of the metal table, just inches from where your hand rested. a cloud of toxic, choking dust and iron rust exploded into the air, blinding you instantly.

you gasped, stumbling backward, but before you could find your footing, a massive weight slammed into you from the side.

leon's body hit yours with the force of a freight train. his momentum threw you violently backward, your spine colliding hard against the solid, unforgiving edge of the rusted metal table. his heavy rifle clattered deafeningly against the concrete floor as his large, gloved hands shot out, pinning your shoulders down with brutal force. his entire frame crushed you against the freezing steel, knocking the breath from your lungs in a sharp, painful, wheezing gasp.

"are you out of your mind?" Leon rasped.

the sound of his voice tearing through the dust was terrifying. his face was mere inches from yours. one of the flashlights had fallen to the floor, rolling wildly until it came to a halt against a wall, casting long, chaotic, upward shadows that illuminated the raw, unchecked fury in his features.

the controlled agent was entirely gone. his ash-blonde hair was messy, falling across his forehead, and his breathing was heavy, ragged, and hot against your cold skin. his eyes were wide, feral, and utterly terrifying.

you struggled against his crushing weight instinctively. your hands flew up, your palms pressing against the rigid plates of his tactical vest to push him away, but he didn't budge a single inch. it was like pushing against a stone wall.

"let... go!" you choked out, fighting to pull air back into your lungs. your stubbornness still flared through the adrenaline and shock, your jaw setting in a hard line. "it was just plaster, I would have—"

"shut up!" he snarled, his voice cracking with a violent intensity.

his fingers tightened around your shoulders with bruising force, pinning you so hard against the edge of the table that the rusted metal groaned loudly beneath you. "just shut the hell up for fuck's sake."

the silence that immediately followed his outburst was suffocating. dust continued to rain down softly around you, settling on your shoulders, but neither of you moved.

his broad chest was heaving against your breasts, rising and falling in an erratic, angry rhythm. his thick thighs had slotted seamlessly against yours, locking your legs completely into place against the heavy base of the surgical table.

you were entirely trapped.

you looked up at him. your heart was hammering against your ribs so violently you thought it might shatter them. your own breathing matched his, shallow, fast, erratic. your stared into his face, watching the muscles in his jaw bunch and release.

you could see it happening in real-time. could see the exact, terrifying moment his restraint snapped.

the years of hushed arguments in medical tents, the lingering, hidden glances across briefing rooms, the volatile, unspoken tension of your dynamic, it was all collapsing right here, in the dark, narrowing into a singular, dangerous focus.

"do you think this shit is a fucking game?" Leon whispered.

his voice had dropped entirely, slipping into a low, raspy register that made a heavy, involuntary shiver run straight down your spine. his hands suddenly released your shoulders, sliding up your neck with a rough, calloused touch to grip your jaw. his thick, leather-gloved fingers squeezed the sides of your face, forcing your head up, making it impossible for you to look anywhere but directly into the dark, churning depths of his eyes.

"you think you can push me," he continued, his thumb pressing hard against your cheekbone, "ignore my direct orders, and just walk away because you're the doctor?"

swallowing hard, your pulse frantic against his palm. "Leon—"

"I told you to step back." leon interrupted, his thumb sliding down to press brutally hard into the corner of your bottom lip, cutting off your words, parting your mouth slightly. hus blue eyes were pitch black in the shadows, entirely consumed by blown-out pupils. "you wanted a reaction? wanted to see exactly how far you could stretch my patience?"

you didn't pull away. it's not like you couldn't, but you also didn't try. despite the punishing harshness of his grip, a familiar, heavy ache flared to life deep between your thighs, hot and immediate.

you met his furious gaze, chest rising against his. with no intention to want him to let go.

you didn't want the soft, safe boundaries of your professional, distant roles. you wanted the suffocating roughness of his anger. yoi wanted the undeniable truth of his heavy weight holding you down in the dark.

you kept your voice low, deliberately steady, despite the tremor in your hands.

"I know you won't do anything" you whispered against the leather of his glove. It was a blatant provocation, sharp and reckless. "you're too much of a professional."

leon's eyes flared wide at your words. the air in the room seemed to combust. with a terrifying, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"you really are a fucking brat."

the speed at which he moved was blinding. before you could take a breath, his hand shifted from your jaw to the heavy metal zipper at the front of your jacket. he gripped it and yanked it down violently in one sharp, continuous motion. the sound of the zipper tearing open echoed loudly. he didn't pause to pull the jacket off your shoulders, his large, caloused hands reached directly under the thick, woolen hem of your black turtleneck.

his freezing, leather-clad fingers gripped the bare skin of your waist with a brutal strength that you knew would leave bruises by morning.

you let out a sharp, involuntary whine, your fingers immediately clutching blindly at the heavy fabric of his tactical vest as he manhandled you. with a raw, effortless display of physical dominance, he turned your body around, twisting you forcefully until your stomach and chest slammed flat against the cold surface of the metal surgical table.

the shock of the freezing steel through your clothes made you gasp loudly.

"Leon, wait—"

"you don't get to tell me to wait," he growled directly into your ear. his breath was scorching hot against the sensitive, freezing skin of your neck, raising goosebumps along your spine.

he leaned forward, pinning your lower back down with the crushing weight of his heavy forearm. his body weight flattened you completely against the steel, leaving you utterly immobile.

with his free hand, he reached down, gripping the thick fabric of your black skirt.

he shoved it up past your thighs, bunching it roughly around your waist. your breath hitched in a panicked, thrilled gasp as the absolute zero air of the dead theater hit the back of your legs, which were protected only by the thin mesh of your black tights. you instinctively tried to pull your leg forward, trying to find some leverage on the slick, rusted metal, but leon immediately drove his thigh directly between your knees. he forced your legs wide apart, locking you in a position of a humiliating vulnerability.

"you've been begging for this for months," leon muttered. his tone was rough, stripped of any pretense or decency. his large hand hooked aggressively into the tight waistband of your tights and underwear simultaneously. with a rough downward tug that made the synthetic fabric rip slightly at the seam, he pulled them down past your thighs, leaving the soft, pale skin of your ass entirely exposed to the biting cold.

"one argument after another," he ground out, his voice thick with a dark, bitter arousal. "every time you talked back in front of the unit. standing there, thinking you won't face the consequences because you wear a white coat."

"i wanted you to listen to me—" you gasped out. your face was pressed sideways against the icy metal of the table. your fingers were clawing desperately at the rusted, pitted edges, trying to find an anchor in the storm of his aggression.

"I'm listening now," he said.

slap.

the sound of his heavy, leather-clad palm striking your bare flesh echoed violently through the empty, cavernous operating theater. it sounded exactly like a gunshot in the dark.

you squealed, your spine arching upward off the metal involuntarily. eyes squeezed shut as a blinding heat bloomed violently across your right cheek. the pain was immediate, a stinging fire that spread fast in the freezing room. but beneath the agonizing sting, heavy pulse throbbed between your thighs. your pussy flooded with a violent, sudden, shameful wetness.

"that's for breaking the safety perimeter at the safehouse," leon stated. his voice wasn't yelling anymore. it was entirely controlled, flat, and utterly terrifying.

slap.

he struck you again, his palm landing in the exact same spot with brutal precision.

your hips jerked upward, bucking wildly against his hold. a choked, desperate cry escaped your throat, your nails scraping against the steel. "leon, damn you—"

"and that's for the ceiling," he interrupted coldly. his heavy hand came down a third time, significantly harder. the sheer impact of the strike rattled your entire frame against the heavy table.

slap.

"you don't get to talk back out here," he rasped, his breathing finally starting to heavily alter, growing thick and ragged.

"you don't get to decide which orders matter and which ones don't."

the spankings continued in a steady, punishing, rhythm. leon didn't rush it. he didn't lose himself. he delivered each deliberate slap with a heavy force that had you sobbing brokenly into the metal table.

your cheeks were flushed hot,your entire body shaking uncontrollably from the overwhelming combination of the freezing air and the red-hot, blistering pain radiating from your backside. your flesh was burning, the skin turning a deep, angry crimson beneath his unforgiving hands.

"are you going to look at me when I speak to you?" leon demanded.

his hand paused mid-air before coming down to rest,heavy , and rough, against your throbbing, sensitized flesh. the heat of his palm seeping into your stung skin was a torment of its own.

you dragged your face across the rusted metal, forcing yourself to turn your head. your dark hair was tangled wildly across your face. eyes slightly open, wet with hot tears of shock, pain, and overwhelming arousal. you tried to look at him through the gloom, your chest heaving.

"i'm looking," you panted. Your voice was broken, trembling violently, but your jaw was still set, that core of stubborn defiance refusing to die. "is this... is this all you've got, Mr.Kennedy?"

leon stared down at you, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. a faint chuckle slipped from the back of his throat.

"not even close."

he released you back for a fraction of a second, reaching down to the heavy tactical belt at his waist. you heard the distinct, chilling, metallic slide of his tactical combat knife being drawn smoothly from its Kydex sheath.

a cold spike of genuine, primal fear shot through your chest, instantly mixing with the heavy lust going through your veins.

he didn't touch your skin with the sharp edge of the blade, but you felt the flat, freezing steel of the heavy weapon slide slowly, deliberately along the black tights,right across where your exposed underwear was.

"you think you're safe because we work together?" leon whispered.

he leaned down, pressing his chest heavily over your back until his lips brushed against the cold shell of your ear. his hand pressed the flat of the freezing blade gently, warningly, against the delicate skin at the small of your back.

"i could leave you tied to this table," he breathed, your voice a dark, velvet threat.

"no one knows we're in this wing of the sanatorium."

"you wouldn't—" you talked back. heart hammering so hard you could literally feel the pulse beating in your throat. even though you were slightly terrified, you were dripping wet of slick.

"don't test my boundaries tonight when you already ruined yours," he said. his voice dropped into a cruel, mocking tone that offered absolutely no comfort.

he slid the heavy knife back into its sheath. the loud click of the lock engaging sounded like a final, damning judgment in the empty room.

he didn't give you a second to recover from the threat. his fingers hooked violently into the thick hair at the base of your skull, curling into a fist. pulling your head back roughly, then forcing your spine to arch so you were staring blindly up at the pitch-black shadows of the ruined ceiling. with his other hand, he reached roughly between your thighs from behind.

you gasped, your mouth falling open as his rough, gloved fingers found your swollen folds. you were slick, dripping with your own uncontrollable arousal. he didn't stroke you though. didn't soothe the ache. without a word of warning, he slid two thick fingers directly inside you with a sudden and rough, upward thrust.

you cried out loudly, a sharp, broken sound. the thick leather of his tactical glove stretched your tight, wet walls uncomfortably, the friction intense and borderline abrasive.

"look at how wet you are for me," Leon murmured sneeringly, his hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

he began to fuck you with his fingers in a fast, degrading rhythm. his thumb pressed down hard, grinding relentlessly against your swollen clit without an ounce of mercy or tenderness.

"you think this makes you brave?" he mocked, pumping his fingers deeper into your tight core, scraping the sensitive walls.

"getting fucked on a rusted table in the middle of a dead zone because you couldn't follow basic protocol?"

"shut up... please, just..." you sobbed, your words breaking apart.

you couldn't finish the sentence. your highly educated, rational smartass was entirely dissolving into a chaotic haze of shame, pain and overwhelming pleasure.

the friction of the wet leather inside you was incredibly intense, riding the razor-thin line between pain and ecstasy, but it was exactly what you had starved for. you lost your fight. you pushed your hips back eagerly against his hand, chasing the rough thrusts, begging silently for the depth of his touch even as hot tears leaked continuously from the corners of your tightly shut eyes.

"you like being put like this, huh? like knowing how easily I can fuck you senseless?" leon rasped.

his own breathing had finally lost its iron control, becoming desperate, and loud in the quiet room. he pulled his dripping fingers out of you with a wet, obscene snap, leaving you instantly empty and shivering violently.

before you could form a word of protest, you heard the sound of his tactical gear shifting. the metal click of his belt buckled, the heavy slide of his heavy trousers being unzipped and shoved down.

a second later, the thick, length of his cock brushed deliberately against the aching flesh of your exposed cunt. he was huge, radiating a blistering heat in the freezing air, and completely unyielding.

"leon—" you whispered.

a sudden, terrifying wave of absolute vulnerability hit you. the reality of what was about to happen, here, like this, under these conditions, crashed over you.

"leon, look at me—"

he didn't look.

he grabbed your hips with both of his large hands, his fingers digging brutally into your delicate hip bones with a force that would absolutely leave blooming bruises the next day. he aligned himself, gripped you tight, and drove his cock deep inside you from behind in one violent, punishing thrust.

you screamed into the empty, cavernous room. The sound was immediately swallowed by the dark, dead stone walls.

the stretch was immense, a sharp, burning, suffocating fullness that felt like it was tearing through all of your remaining physical and mental defenses. he filled you completely, stretching you to your absolute limit.

stopping didn't even cross his mind in this moment,knowing exactly it was what you were desperate for. he didn't give you a moment to adjust to his massive size or the agonizing stretch. just instantly began to fuck you with a brutal, angry, relentless rhythm. his heavy hips slammed violently against your pussy with a wetsmacking sound that echoed obscenely, filling the silent theater.

the scene was entirely devoid of romance. this was no gentle lovemaking, no soft words of devotion. it was dark, it was freezing cold, and it was frantic. it was the violent release of four years of suffocating frustration and unwanted, denied desire and mutual feelings, finally snapping in the worst possible place, at the worst possible time.

leon's hands on your hips were relentless, with a grip so immovable.

his deep grunts of physical exertion sounded rough in your ear as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your wet core.

"you're fucked out here," he growled, his pace quickening into a blur. his cock hit your cervix with a blunt, bruising force that made you see starts and left you entirely dizzy. "say it. say you're my subordinate."

"god , leon— I'm.. yours," you sobbed openly now.

your fingers were slipping uselessly on the rusted metal as you tried to hold your upper body up. you were completely broken open, entirely at his mercy. "fuck... please..."

"that's my good girl," he muttered. the words weren't a comfort,instead they sounded bitter, almost cruel, laced with a twisted satisfaction on his tongue.

he reached around your back with his right hand. thick fingers wrapped securely around the front of your throat from behind, squeezing firmly. he didn't crush your windpipe, but he apply just enough steady pressure to restrict your frantic breath, forcing you into a state of choked, lightheaded compliance as he delivered the final, devastatingly thrusts.

your world entirely narrowed down to the gray concrete floor beneath you, the freezing steel biting into your chest, the painful grip on your throat, and the blinding, white-hot explosion of your orgasm. It ripped violently through your lower body, a devastating release that made you cry out into his hand as your vaginal walls clamped down agonizingly tight around his thick cock.

leon let out a low, guttural snarl.

his massive body tensed completely, every muscle pulling taut as steel. he drove his hips forward one last, brutal time, pinning you utterly flat against the rusted table as he spent himself deep, hot, and heavy within you. he held himself buried to the hilt, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his grip still tight around your throat.

for a long, heavy minute, the only sound in the massive, decaying room was your ragged, echoing breath, loud in the dark.

then reality crept back in. the adrenaline began to recede, and the freezing cold rushed back with a vengeance.

leon released your throat the next second. he pulled out of you without a single word of warning.

the sudden absence of his burning heat and filling weight made you shiver violently. you collapsed forward, staying face down on the freezing metal table. your entire body was trembling uncontrollably.your skin was sticky with a mixture of cold sweat and thick fluids that were already turning freezing against your bare thighs in the damp subzero air.

then you closed your eyes softly and waited.

you waited for a warm hand on your back. you waited for him to reach down and gently pull you up, to turn you around and finally look at you. waited for him to say something, anything, that would soften the bleeding edges of what had just occurred between you. a word of comfort. a acknowledgment that it meant something.it should?shouldn't it?

but instead, the only sound that cut through the silence was the sharp, metallic zip of his trousers. the rustle of his tactical gear being adjusted, the clinking of buckles and straps being pulled back into perfect, impenetrable order.

you slowly pushed yourself up, limbs feeling incredibly weak and shaking violently. you reached down, pulling your torn underwear and black tights back up over your thighs. freezing, numb hands fumbling awkwardly with the ruined fabric.

then your black skirt followed back into place, hiding the deep, angry red handprints that burned on your skin.

you turned around slowly, leaning against the rusted edge of the surgical table for support. looking up at him.

although, leon was already standing three feet away.

his blonde hair had been pushed back aggressively from his forehead. the impassive mask of the agent had returned, and the ice was thicker and more impenetrable than it had ever been before. at least that is what he wanted you to think.

he picked up his assault rifle from the dust covered floor, checking the chamber and the safety with efficiency.

he didn't look at your face in this agonizing. didn't meet your eyes. he just stared blankly at a spot somewhere near your collarbone, voice entirely flat and dead.

"fix your jacket. we have twenty minutes before the extraction window changes."

you froze at that. your heart didn't just break, it dropped into a cold, bottomless, void in your chest.

the silence between you was no longer volatile. it was no longer charged with heat or tension that built up until now. it was completely empty. beyond gut-wrenching. the brutal act hadn't cleared whether that he loved you or he hated your guts. it hadn't cleared the suffocating tension or broken the barrier between you. it had only violently snapped the one fragile line of connection you had left, leaving the emotional damage entirely, irreparably unresolved.you could only hope for any affection left deep down his hardened heart.

"leon—" you whispered, your voice cracking painfully in the quiet.

"i said move out," he cut you off, his voice void of any human emotion. "it's the last time I'll say it."

he didn't wait for a response. he turned his broad back to you, the flashlight beam on his shoulder cutting a harsh white path through the dust, and began walking toward the northern corridor.

you stood entirely alone in the center of the ruined operating theater. the freezing air bit viciously at your tear stained skin. you stared at his retreating back, realizing with a dull, suffocating, and incredibly heavy ache that you had wanted to break him, and in doing so, you had thought that everything was now infinitely, permanently worse.

or was it?

with shaking, numb fingers, you slowly pulled the zipper of your jacket back up to your throat, burying your chin in the collar, and stepped away from the table to follow him into the dark.

like wtf

liking kids isn't ag3play

its you being a piece of shit

Everyone boos.

Then a voice from behind the crowd yells "how the fuck do you know?!"

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x neglected!sorcerer!male!reader (ft. satoru gojo x reader) summary: Your father let out a sigh of relief when he heard the news of you getting enrolled in the same religious school as your mother. He wasn't in a place to be your father, not when the city called him. Not when Dick needed a parent more than you. And there was something about you that scared Bruce just a bit. He just didn't expect for you to return to the manor years later looking like you went through hell and back. But Bruce and his kids don't have the time to unpack what happened to you in Japan. The city once again is put first. But then why are they sad when you return back to Japan following a man in a blindfold? And why does every fibre of their beings so badly wishes that you would follow behind them instead? tags: jjk spoilers; past suguru x reader mentioned; emotional neglect; reader has an aura that batfam doesn't know how to deal with (it's his curse energy); typical jjk & dc violence; death and murder; assassins; attempts at kidnapping; zenin clan mentioned; satoru dgaf about giving his clan an heir and goes after reader anyway; taglist: closed. more spots will open after act one. a/n: if the ages don't add up, just pretend that they do and it allllll makes sense

masterlist | act one: part one

You grew up knowing there were things your mother was trying to shield you from. She would sometimes disappear for a few hours when you were really young. Then for days and even weeks you got bigger and more independent.

You hated when your mother would leave you. And that feeling only grew the older you got and she explained to you what she was going through.

Your mother never spoke bad about the society both of you were a part of. Allowed you to grow up in the fantasy that she and her former friends were some kind of superheroes.

Standing over your mother's casket, you knew how foolish you were to think so. Sorcerers weren't superheroes; they were nothing more than mere lambs sent for slaughter so 'regular people' could remain ignorant.