water splatters across the bathroom you’d just cleaned two days ago as valko shakes soapy droplets off his hair. once satisfied, he scoops up another handful, dunks it over his head, and repeats the process. he flinches when some gets in his eyes, the movement intense enough for a sizable wave to slosh out of the bathtub.
trying not to break character, you breathe slowly through your nostrils. it’s okay that he's getting water everywhere! it'll only make the experience more immersive.
peering at him from behind the door, you run your hands down your front, checking your outfit one last time. tonight, you were experimenting with the one-piece bathing suit you’d dropped half of your last paycheck on. and what better way to test it out than on the man who thinks you look good in everything? (and nothing, as he’s told you repeatedly.)
putting on a seductive smile, you saunter into the room, swaying your hips with every step. immediately, his amber eyes trail down your figure, widening and narrowing in the way that you know by now: he likes what he sees.
when you reach him, you prop your foot on the edge of the tub, making sure to show off your legs. it’s no coincidence they’re slathered in the cocoa-scented body lotion you’d bought as insurance.
as soon as he catches the scent, the motor hidden in his nose kicks on. his tongue darts across lips. “hi.”
“hi. you having fun in there?” you ask, voice carrying a sultry flair.
“i guess.” his canines are poking out. “the bubbles were a good suggestion. i like them.”
mhm. lucky for him, they cover his skin from his midriff to his ankles. otherwise, you might have already pounced on him by now—roleplay plans be damned.
“that’s great, baby. but when you go out for a swim like this, you should be sure to take the right precautions.” you puff your chest out, gesturing to your swimsuit. “maybe i can come in and give you some safety tips?”
his tail wags at the idea of you joining him. coughing, he reaches a hand back to capture it. “are you sure, though? your hair’s done all pretty. do you really want to get it wet?”
“it’s okay. i don’t mind getting real wet when i’m with you.” you lean forward to poke his still-twitching nose and shoot him a wink. “i’ll do anything to keep you safe out here. this beach isn't all sunshine, all the time. the waves can get dangerous, you know.”
at that, his tail lashes out of his grip, breaking the water’s surface with a powerful ripple.
delicious heat spreads through your lower belly. is he that worked up already?
noting your widening smirk, valko chews his bottom lip. “are you okay?”
huh? “what do you mean?”
“it’s just…usually i like when we play games, but i don’t know which one you’re playing right now. you keep talking like you’re a lifeguard or something, but…i’m not at the beach,” he says, tilting his head to the right in confusion. “this is a bathtub.”
in that instant, the bathwater reclaims its title as the wettest thing in this room.
your foot slips off the porcelain edge, and your sultry facade fades. as your shoulders sag, you can only look at him in dismay. “dude.”
“what?”
spinning on your heel, you pass the sink, then the towel cabinet. the door swings shut behind you.
“wait!” he calls. sloshing noises promise nothing good. “come back!”
your swimsuit is already sailing through the air, landing in the hamper as you flop into bed.
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Summary: Leon comes home a little late on Father's Day.
Words: 900
Leon was already halfway through the front door before it was fully opened.
“--for dinner, because I am starving? Haven't eaten since–”
The rest of the sentence died. Leon stopped. The house was dark. Not dark-dark. Afternoon sunlight still filtered through the curtains, but it was quiet.
His keys disappeared into his pocket. The fatigue of a fourteen-hour workday evaporated. Years of training slid into place. There was no television, no music, no voices, no movement.
His heart began to pound.
"Sweetheart?" he called.
He waited, only for silence to greet him.
His jaw tightened.
The living room was empty. Kitchen empty. No sign of you
No sign of his daughter. The little shoes by the front door were gone.
Leon moved silently through the house, checking corners, checking sightlines, following the familiar ritual of a man who had spent most of his life preparing for terrible things.
The hallway.
Empty.
Dining room.
Empty.
Upstairs.
Still nothing.
The knot in his chest tightened. His mind was already constructing possibilities: an emergency, an accident, a break-in. Every terrible scenario his career had trained him to anticipate.
He reached the top of the stairs and paused, listening.
There was absolutely no sound.
And then, muffled, behind a door down the hallway, he heard a giggle. In the guest room.
Leon froze.
He heard another tiny sound. A whisper. Then frantic shushing.
Leon's eyes closed briefly as his shoulders sank and his head fell back.
Jesus Christ.
The guest room door burst open.
"SURPRISE!"
A tiny blur launched itself at his legs. Leon barely had time to react before his daughter collided with him at full speed. Construction paper exploded everywhere. Glitter rained across the hallway. A handmade crown landed near his shoe as a small body was wrapped around his waist.
"Daddy!"
For a moment Leon simply stood there, motionless and staring.
His daughter looked up at him expectantly, smiling with that smile that was missing two front teeth. Her hair was slightly crooked. Her face was covered in marker. She was holding what appeared to be a Father's Day card assembled entirely from glue and determination.
"Daddy?"
Leon swallowed. Hard. He crouched, scooped her up, and held on. The card crumpled slightly between them.
His daughter immediately began talking. Words poured out in a stream. About crafts, about surprises, about how Mommy helped but not too much because she did most of it herself, about breakfast, about decorations, about everything.
Leon didn't say a word. He just held her, one hand spread across her back, the other cradling the back of her head.
You appeared in the hallway doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame, your face softening because you knew that look. You'd seen it before on the rare occasions Leon was caught off guard by happiness. The moments that slipped through his defenses. The moments when the weight of everything he'd survived collided with everything he'd gained.
His daughter was still talking, still chattering happily, oblivious.
Leon lowered his face into her hair. His shoulders were still rising with a careful breath when you saw it.
A tear.
Sliding silently down his cheek.
Your chest ached. God. After all these years, seeing him cry still felt sacred.
His daughter finally noticed.
"Daddy?"
Leon laughed softly, a broken little sound, then kissed the top of her head.
"I'm okay, kiddo." His voice was rough. "So okay."
His crushing hug kept her from saying anything else, and then she forgot the words beneath the weight of her giggles.
You smiled, wiped discreetly at your own eyes, and decided the moment had become too emotional. Somebody had to save everyone.
So you stepped forward and cleared your throat.
You said quietly, "Mommy got you something too."
Leon looked up, still holding your daughter, still visibly wrecked.
You held out a card.
Simple. Blue. He liked blue. Slightly bent at one corner.
His eyes immediately softened.
"Yeah?"
You nodded.
"Yeah. Happy Father’s day."
He took it carefully, like it might break.
Your daughter twisted excitedly in his arms.
"Open it!"
Leon smiled and he opened the card. Inside, in your handwriting, were only a few words.
Coupon for one free blowjob.
Leon almost choked on a stifled laugh. His eyes moved lower.
Thank you for being the safest place either of us have ever known.
The hallway went quiet. Leon stared at the words. His thumb brushed across the ink.
His eyes closed.
A fresh tear escaped despite his best efforts.
Your daughter gasped dramatically.
"Daddy's crying again."
You laughed.
Leon laughed too, a helpless, embarrassed sound.
Your daughter wrapped both arms around his neck. You stepped closer and pressed yourself against his side.
And there, in the middle of a hallway littered with glitter and construction paper, Leon Kennedy stood surrounded by the two people he loved most in the world, holding his daughter, holding your card, believing finally that he had succeeded in making the world safe enough to make a difference.
At least for you.
A/N: sorry for the late upload on Father's day! I was busy celebrating my own husband. Nothing quite as adorable as your chosen DangerousMan™️ silently tearing up while holding your child.
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Leon’s phone dinged on the kitchen counter. He didn’t even move at first, just stared at it like it was mildly inconveniencing him. Then he picked it up and squinted at the screen.
“Hold on.”
And then he walked over to his jacket, pulled out reading glasses, and put them on like he was about to review classified documents.
This man is 40 years old. This man has survived horrors beyond comprehension. This man cannot read a text without eyewear.
He goes, “hm,” like he’s deciphering nuclear codes, and then reads out loud, “Olive Garden is having a bogo deal. Wanna go tonight?”
And you just… have to sit there and process the fact that leon kennedy gets promotional texts from Olive Garden.
You blink.
“Why does the restaurant have your number.”
He meets your gaze evenly.
“Because it's your favorite.”
He said this like it was the most reasonable chain of logic ever constructed by man.
And you realize you are living with a government agent who is personally subscribed to olive garden marketing because you once mentioned unlimited breadsticks in passing and now this man is on a first-name basis with italian cuisine corporate outreach.
Anyway.
Yes, you went.
Yes he wore the glasses while reading the menu because 'it's too dark in there'.
Yes he asked the waiter questions like he was conducting an interview.
You couldn’t quite figure out how you got into this position. 18+
One moment you were flooring it down the streets of the N109 Zone in one of Sylus’ many vintage cars. The next, every item on his mahogany desk was strewn across the floor. Your back — bare and prickling from the chill — pressed into the smooth surface.
Only your black polished leather heals remained on your body. The red bottoms faced the ceiling, slung over the broad expanse of Sylus’ shoulders and trembling with every devastating blow of his hips.
They sat upon his shoulders as if they belonged there, as if they were always meant to remain right there. Sylus surely seemed to think so, with the iron clad grip he had on your claves. Pressing his body weight further down into your own, listening to the satisfying creak of sturdy wood as he pounds you into its surface.
“S-s-Sylus!” He’s fucking you beyond dumb, your jaw so slack that you’d feel some level of embarrassment if you harbored any sense of shame around him. “You looked too perfect tonight.” Though, you couldn’t help but believe there was more of a motive behind this animalistic hunger. “Too many eyes were on you.”
He hits deep, driving that little bit of information home as stars explode through your vision. You barely register the pain of your head knocking against the desk. A garbled cry of his name leaving your lips as your nails dig into his skin, wherever you’re capable of reaching.
You’re so close to cumming, the wet slapping emitting between your bodies is more than enough to signify it. “Don’t even h-have to try to make me jealous, hmm?” He shifts, putting a knee up on the desk for better leverage to nearly fold you in half. “Just gotta look as beautiful as you a-always do… someone will look… their desires are so loud…”
You don’t restrain yourself as a harsh slap lands on your ass, nearly screaming as your entire body throbs with the need for release. Jealousy pushed him to this point and you didn’t even have to do anything… how cute. “S-Sy m’gonna…”
The desk is physically rocking with the force of his hips, and you barely have the strength to worry about it collapsing beneath you. All you can focus on is the never ending drag of his cock between your slick walls. The toe curling pleasure you desperately want to last forever, teetering right on the brink of euphoria.
More of clicker trained reader please! I beg I'm literally obsessed
Will do! I decided that he deserved some sweet revenge lol.
Summary: Weeks ago, your now boyfriend accidentally clicker trained you. You decide to return the favor.
Masterlist | Part 1
Reverse Pavlov - Leon Kennedy x Reader
It starts innocently.
That’s the worst part. You don’t wake up one morning and decide to psychologically condition your boyfriend. That would be weird.
God, it still sounds weird calling him that. ‘Boyfriend’. Weeks ago, when you both were fighting for your damn lives in China, he was still just your mission partner. At some point, that had changed. You couldn’t say when. One day, he had just held your hand and said he didn’t want to be just friends anymore. That was that.
But, even then, there was the issue that he had fucking clicker trained you. No Pavlov needed. Just a click of his tongue, and you were jolting to correct yourself.
The revenge starts because you’re petty. Which Leon frankly deserves. The first time it happens, he doesn’t question it too much.
Leon’s sitting on the couch, flipping through mission paperwork and nursing his third cup of coffee of the day. When you walk by, his eyes flick up automatically. “Hey.”
You pause. His water bottle is sitting untouched on the coffee table. You point at it.
“…You should drink some water.”
His face immediately twists, eyes rolling. “Don’t start.”
A sweet smile comes to your face. The kind that you know gets him to do whatever you want. “Drink your water.”
He sighs dramatically and reaches over, taking a few obedient sips.
Your face lights up. “Good job.”
Leon blinks. “…What?”
“Good hydration.”
“…Are you making fun of me?” His eyes narrow.
You smile wider. “No.”
You absolutely are.
.
.
.
The second time, he notices.
He’s in the kitchen making dinner. You lean against the counter, eyeing him up and down. His shoulders are tight. There’s heavy dark circles under his eyes. You know for a fact he slept four hours, if that. Probably even less.
“…Did you nap today?”
“No.” He’s in the middle of chopping some vegetables, eyes still trained on the knife in front of him.
You lay your hand over his, pausing his work. “Go sit down for twenty minutes.”
He gives you an offended look. “No? I don’t need to.”
Your hand doesn’t stray. He simply stares at you for a second, like it’s a challenge. Three minutes later he’s on the couch, you throwing a blanket over him.
You pat his shoulder, kissing the top of his head. “Good job.”
“…Are you rewarding me?” His head tilts up at you. His eyes look heavy with exhaustion.
You blink. “…No.”
.
.
.
Third time. He’s stretching after training.
Not because he wants to, no. But because his back hurt and you threatened violence. When he finishes, a bead of sweat tracing down his hairline, he looks over to you.
You look up from your phone, face softening. “That’s my guy.”
His ears turn pink. He immediately scowls. “…Stop.”
You smile. “Good stretching. I’m happy you’re taking care of yourself.”
His face changes. Just slightly. Like his brain did something weird. You make sure to file that away.
Interesting.
.
.
.
A week later, you’re making tea.
Leon walks into the kitchen. Opens the fridge. Pulls out water. He takes a long pull from the bottle, swallowing it and turning to look at you. Almost expectantly, even.
You blink. “…What?”
“…Nothing.” His head shakes a little, eyes downturning to the floor.
He leaves.
… Huh.
.
.
.
Three days later, you’re folding laundry.
You don’t bother looking up when Leon steps into the room, an empty plate in hand. It makes you smile. The man never eats a full meal, and when he does, it’s never at what could be considered a good time. Today is different, apparently.
“…You ate lunch?”
His shoulders shift, chest puffing out a little. Is that… pride on his face? Has to be. “…Yeah.”
You smile automatically. “Good job, sweetheart.”
His expression changes a little. His posture relaxes a touch, the briefest of smiles flickering on his face. Then he immediately leaves, face flushing.
Good. Your plan has been working. Now, it’s just time to test it more.
.
.
.
That evening, Leon comes home after a meeting. He’s quick to kick his shoes off, jacket already hanging up next to the door.
Your arms envelop him before he can do anything else. “Good job, dear!”
His eyebrows lift. “…For what?”
You shrug. “General maintenance.”
.
.
.
The next day, he takes his vitamins. You’re quick to kiss his cheek. “Excellent work.”
He rolls his eyes. But, he smiles.
.
.
.
Next, he goes to bed before midnight. He makes sure to roll over to face you, a dumb smile on his face.
You kiss his forehead. “That’s my boy.”
His entire face goes red.
.
.
.
He realizes what you’ve been doing two weeks later.
You’re cooking. Leon wanders into the kitchen, clad in clean pajamas. He opens the fridge, and instead of pulling out booze, he goes for water instead. He drinks. Looks at you. Waits.
You slowly lower the spoon, smirking. “…Leon.”
His eyes widen immediately. He has that big, dumb smile on his face again. “…What?”
“…Were you waiting for me to say good job?”
“No.”
The word comes out too fast. You look up from the stove. The man’s face has gone beet red, hands clutching the water bottle close to himself.
He looks away from your face as he speaks, blue eyes downturning. “…Maybe.”
You lose your fucking mind. The man looks sheepish as you double over in laughter, almost falling back into the chair next to you.
A flash of emotion comes to his face as he realizes what you’ve done. “Did you- Did you fucking condition me?!”
You’re wheezing. “You trained me first! It’s only fair!”
His eyes widen. “EXCUSE ME?”
“YOU CLICKED AT ME LIKE A DOG!”
His hand gestures wildly. “YOU SAID GOOD JOB WHEN I DRANK WATER!”
You stare at him for a second, before smirking again. “…Good job communicating.”
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
