#clairemaxxing

cw: abusive relationship. noncon. forced fingering. p in v. semi-public sex. breeding kink. leon mocking you. pet names. not proofread!!

pairings: ballet instructor!leon x fem!reader

summary: you thought dating your ballet instructor would be easy, turns out he’s meaner in private than when you’re on stage

word count: 743 || 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚 ♫

what could go wrong with sneaking around with leon kennedy, the most prestigious ballet instructor in the country?

nothing, you told yourself from the start. things would get ugly real fast.

you’ve always wanted a boyfriend to brag about, show him to your family, friends, take him out on dates and the whole cliché couple shabang. but he.. well, mr. kennedy…

a secretive man at heart, never divulges information on his life, personal or not, cold, distant. it’s very rare for you to see a smile on his face except for when he’s got you shoved face down on a pillow while he keeps whispering sweet nothings in your ear from behind, the bed threatening to break with every rough movement of his hips.

"you could’ve done better out there, but you didn’t. what did i tell you last time, huh? your figure is. not. right. like right now, arch your back better, pup."

you’d comply immediately, stretching your back like the neck of a swan just like you were supposed to do on stage, except for the fact that this isn’t for thousands of people.

it was for the man you love.

that’s right, the man who bruises you if your leg wasn’t raised right during an arabesque, the man who tightened his grip around your throat just because he fantasised a corrupted little rising star, feeling your pulse slowly beating under his rough fingers.

you were devoted to this man, driven by the desire to please him, in more ways than one. on stage, in bed or after practice when he’s got you bent over his desk.

you’re gonna die like this, but you can’t stop, god, you can’t. you’re so close to reaching what you’ve been working for your whole life.

now he’s got his left hand holding down on his desk, again, by the throat, his tight grip never wavering. two of his fingers were shoved as deep as he could reach inside your pussy, pumping and curling inside of you, not in an attempt to make you cum, he’d never give you that satisfaction just with his fingers.

"look at you.. grinding against my hand. thought you said no?" his voice is as sharp as the one he uses during one-on-one sessions, almost mocking in that sense.

you could hear the people outside the lodge leaving the theater after seeing you move on that stage like a swan, the one you wanted to be, the one you wanted to perfect. which you did. but nothing was perfect enough for leon.

"s-stop" you gasp out, your nails digging into the flesh of the evil instructor’s forearm, leaving red half moons marks on his dark hair dusted skin.

he pulls out his two fingers and shoves them into your mouth "lick it off." he orders, his finger slipping further down your throat which makes you gag. "that’s a good girl.. such a perfect girl for me, aren’t you? you wanna be perfect for me, is that it?" he fake coos at you.

soon enough, and without warning, he has his achingly hard dick inside you, fucking into you like the wild animal he is, a violent dog humping while in heat you would say. "taking every inch of me.. you love it don’t you? say you love it." a sharp crack echoes in the room, his hand landing aggressively across your face and leaving a red mark instantly.

"i l-love you" you cry out, your body shaking in your tutu and your exposed tits bouncing up and down with every snap of his hips.

another slap lands flat on your other cheek this time "not what i wanted to hear, sweetheart. you can do better. you can do everything better."

the cries never end, the gasps quieter and muffled by his hand clamping down against your mouth.

he doesn’t bother pulling out, he never does. his warm fluids fill you up "that’s it, take my babies.." he fucks his cum deeper inside you, not letting one drop go to waste, says it’s too precious "you never get pregnant, sweetheart. now’s the night, don’t you think?"

even at 49, this man could only think about one thing and it was breeding his students, including you.

"i love you.." you can’t help but repeat. that man has done horrible things to you, but that’s like saying the grass is green or the sky is blue, he hits you and you love him.

cw: grief. drinking. mention of weed. angst.

pairings: re9!leon x dead gf!reader

summary: it has been more than 20 years since you departed for a better place in heaven, yet he cannot forget you.

wc: 1102 || 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐧 ♫

leon was convinced you were the one for him, despite the brief time you two had together. you touched him in ways that any man like him could only dream of.

he treasured every small possession you had, even if they seemed insignificant to others, they meant the world to him. the only things keeping him alive.

your baby blue scarf that still carried the faint, comforting smell of your soft hair, along with the delicate scent of your remaining perfume drops drifting in the air of his bedroom occasionally—just a few sad remnants of your favorite fragrance. alongside it was your beloved pen, the one with which you had written heartfelt letters to him while you were abroad. even across thousands of miles, your thoughts constantly drifted to him—something no one had done before you came into his life.

but what he truly longed to feel between his fingers was you, not a piece of fabric or the last postcard you sent him decades ago.

he cares about you with the profound devotion of a widower mourning his beloved wife. he was just your boyfriend. yet, a boyfriend who often wished the gods had granted him more time with you, a boyfriend who yearned to stop overthinking and marry you the month after you met, considering you truly the love of his life and the woman he wanted to spend his last seconds with, slide the most beautiful diamond ring around your finger and hear you say "yes!".

whiskey had been his only solace since his loss, often drinking half a bottle in one evening, sometimes a whole one if he was particularly determined to avoid thoughts of you. he remembered how his hands would glide through your soft hair, then slide down the gentle slope of your shoulders, tracing the curves he had spent his entire life worshipping. he even considered reaching out to a dealer for drugs to numb the pain, but he held back—refusing to allow himself to sink that low.

but again, he was already balls deep in the worst state (physically and mentally) of his life.

he spends his lonely nights in his bed, imagining the sheets still smelling like your shampoo.

sometimes, more often than not, he finds himself sleeping on your side of the bed. he refuses to spend meaningless passion with other women because it feels like cheating on you even when you weren’t here.

"you’ve got to let her go, leon. it’s been like two decades now" claire keeps telling him whenever she comes over to check on him.

there she stands on his front porch, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a shadow beneath them both that leon didn’t bother to turn off, illuminating the worn wooden steps and the tension in the cool evening air.

he knows she’s right, especially when it comes to his emotional struggles, where she consistently demonstrates insight. She has been able to read him like an open book since their youth, long before you entered his life, after raccoon city.

"i can’t really manage to forget her when she’s everywhere, figuratively speaking or not."

"sometimes it hits me outta nowhere" he admits "like... I'll see something - maybe a commercial for her favorite shampoo or hear that one song she loved - and suddenly I'm right back there." his voice was steady but there was an ache underneath the words "It's not every day anymore though."

he lies. he just wants claire to stop bothering him about it and leave him alone to think, even though he knows it’s only making him feel worse.

"you’re miserable... seriously, you’ve never looked or felt worse" she says softly, her words driven by a deep longing for her longtime friend.

she can’t simply allow herself to see the man with whom she has spent nearly half her life destroying himself, observing his prematurely gray hair, which has turned noticeably whiter over the years, likely due to the stress and anxiety he endures.

it’s still painful to hear her admit that he’s never appeared worse in that situation, but ultimately, she’s telling the truth.

"at least don’t let me find you with a joint between your fingers again, leon" she crosses her arms like a mother scolding her kid.

"i never consumed that shit."

"you might as well."

"what does that mean?"

"just- forget it," she waves a hand at him, a slight frown creasing her face. "don’t let yourself sink so low. you’re not a ship; you’re leon kennedy."

right, the same leon who can’t stop overthinking, the same man who’s faced death a hundred times, but when it comes to someone he cares about, he shuts down and puts his walls up.

sometimes he even forgets you’re gone if something doesn’t remind him.

"well, i gotta pick the kids up" she says before her arms snaked around him in a friendly hug "you take care, leon. seriously."

yet another night finds him sitting awake in his quiet kitchen, a perfectly poured glass of aged whiskey resting on the counter next to him, illuminated only by a faint, warm glow from a single overhead light.

he clutches the worn, faded photograph he has kept of you two, the only tangible proof that you truly existed and that you weren’t merely a figment of his lonely imagination.

you look beautiful as always, with your hair dancing in the wind that slightly obscures your carefree smile—the one he loved to see and kiss, the same smile he would trade his life to see again, even if just once more.

he doesn’t even notice how the picture is gradually becoming more blurred with each passing second, a tear pricking at the corner of his eye and threatening to spill over.

when it finally does, he allows the other tear to flow freely without protest.

"when will you come back?" his voice cracks in the quiet of the room, his heart aching with profound grief.

leon is hungry, starving to feel your presence beneath him once more, to hear the soft, familiar sound of your voice instead of your favorite song playing from the vintage turntable, and to see your face clearly, rather than a woman who merely resembles you across the street.

his days are filled with sad moments without you by his side, yearning to tell you one more time the three words he didn’t have the chance to tell you before you passed.

i love you.

now he has to live with the heavy guilt living deep inside his chest for the rest of his life, until he joins you up there.

"oh, take this longing from my tongue. all the useless things my hands have done. let me see your beauty broken down. like you would do, for one you love." - leonard cohen.

cw: size difference. daddy kink. age gap. pet names (sweetheart, pup, doll, daddy)

leon loves you very, very much and would never do anything to hurt you. even if that means restraining himself from having real sex with his younger girlfriend, scared he’s gonna break her doll-like body with his enormous member.

"no, pup, don’t want daddy to break you in half now, do we?" he’d say but you’d jut your lower lip forward in an adorable pout in an attempt to break down his walls.

that is until his birthday came up and you convinced him to finally fuck you the proper way.

at first, he was hesitant, tracing circles around your entrance with his pink tip dripping with precum. "i don’t know, sweetheart, i don’t want to hurt you" he muttered, but he couldn’t fight the fact that he needed to feel you around him for the first time, feeling his veiny and throbbing cock pump in and out of your tight heat and mapping your walls without using his fingers this time.

"come on, leon, it’s your birthday" you whine softly "let yourself have at least one good thing before the clock hits midnight. please?"

your pout is what makes him comply.

"don’t come crying to daddy when you can’t walk properly tomorrow" gently, he slides in just the tip, letting himself feel what felt like reaching the gates of heaven. you feel the pain in every nerve of your body, the stretch is unbearable but you keep telling him that it’s okay, he can have it.

"you okay, doll?" he breathed his words of assurance with every inch you took.

the whole journey to sinking himself as deep as possible inside you felt like hours, but once he was inside you and started moving, he was the happiest man alive.

"happy birthday, mr. biggie" you panted, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. your hand reached up to touch his stubbled cheek.

leon getting hella embarrassed because not only is he cheating on his wife but he also can’t get his buddy up mid sex with his mistresses

doctor leon switching his patients’ medication for drugs so he can rape them

↷mostly leon kennedy. no use of y/n. taboo topics proceed at your own risk.

‎ꫂ᭪݁ - dddne | ♫ - music inspired | ʚɞ - quick drabbles

only the most important cws are in the previews!

↓ oldest to newest

𝐫𝐞𝟗 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

‎ꫂ᭪݁ 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐝! || having sex with dadleon for fathers day after he’s been ignoring you for weeks (cw: incest)

‎ꫂ᭪݁ʚɞ 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐤 || after his hookups with cheap women he picked up in a bar or on the road, he always comes back to fucking you in his old truck (cw: con turned into noncon. semi-public sex. age gap.)

‎ꫂ᭪݁♫ʚɞ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || you thought dating your ballet instructor would be easy, turns out he’s meaner in private than when you’re on stage (cw: noncon. breeding kink. semi-public sex.)

♫ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 || it has been more than 20 years since you departed for a better place in heaven, yet he cannot forget you. (cw: grief. drinking. mention of drugs.)

𝐡𝐜𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

ʚɞ 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 || leon as a girl dad and a loving husband

✞𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧✞