#shellwrites

NSFW - drabble

You stagger down the streets, ignorant of the glances men are giving you. Anyone with eyes can see you're wasted. You're a walking target, babe.

You're not aware of a lot of things. Where were you going? You didn't know, now you find yourself out of the clubbing district. The streets aren't as bright as they used to be, just buildings upon buildings with their lights out.

You were also not aware of the black car that's been trailing you for at least ten minutes or more - headlights off, of course.

Leon had been 'in the area.' Oh, who are we kidding? He's following you again, just like he does every night you go out with your friends.

You finally notice him as he honks. "Asshole." You spit out, quickly stopping to let the car pass.

It doesn't, instead the Porsche's driverside window rolls down to reveal your stalker. "Harsh, but okay."

"Leon! Oh, baby I am so happy to see you." You take back your curse from earlier, feeling relieved to see his face. He always comes to your rescue! You see him as a guardian angel, still unaware of his repeated stalking. It isn't fate, this shit is on purpose. Calculated. Practiced.

You almost trip on the way to the window. Leaning into the opening, you give your older boyfriend a clear view of your cleavage. (With the way the shirt splits, it's more than just cleavage. It's a miracle your nipples are still covered, saving you some decency in your drunken state.)

You look like a hooker trying to pick up a customer - have some class.

He gives you a disarming smile, but his words are anything but. "Get in the fucking car. Now."

You don't remember fumbling to the passenger seat, but you sure can hear the scolding you're getting.

"I'm way too old for this shit. Picking you up, drunk off your ass in-" He inhales sharply, the hand on your thigh starting to grip you harder. "In god knows where... wearing that."

You don't hate his scoldings. Hell, you'd be lying if it didn't make you a little hot. You've got issues, but who doesn't?

"M'sorry." You slur your words, pulling up your shirt self-consciously.

"Fuck that, you're ready to show your body for everyone at that club, but now..." Leon removes the hand from your thigh and tugs down your shirt, ripping the cheap fabric down the middle. You're exposed, leaving you in that tight skirt and your plunging bra.

You yelp, too shocked by his actions to ask how he knew you were at a club. He was working today, you didn't have a chance to tell him your plans.

"Why don't you take off that bra, angel." The older man eyes you from the car mirror. You felt small, not all in the moment mentally. Like you've got yourself in big trouble, that tightness in your chest when you'd walk to the principal's office.

Your hands find your head, the buzz from the alcohol becoming too much. You're going to get carsick, fast.

Like Leon could give a fuck right now. He doesn't ask you a second time, taking initative to flick the front closure of your bra open. He takes a nipple and tugs.

It isn't until you threaten to throw up all over his car's expensive interior that Leon finds a place to pull over. It was some backroad shoulder, looks right out of a horror movie. You wouldn't feel safe if it wasn't for your boyfriend - ironically.

Such a nice car parked in a place like this. No matter, Leon can handle it if some shady individuals dare to try him right now. He wouldn't be opposed to blowing someone's brains out for intruding on you two.

You're both in the back seat, but this is Leon Kennedy we're dealing with - he's got a gun under the seat. Loaded, safety off. The thought stirs another fucked up fantasy in his mind, but he puts a pin in it for now. Wait, when did you two get in the back? This is bad, your memories are blending together.

You're in Leon's lap now, facing him. You've long lost your bra and what was left of your shirt. You wince at the feeling of his gloved hands on your thighs. Looks like you're down to your panties.

Your head... your head. It's reeling. It's as if someone hit you square between the eyes. Leon mumbles something along the lines of 'punishment fitting the crime.' You lean against the back of the driver's seat.

"Stay with me, angel." Leon won't let you sleep. He pinches your nipple harshly as he did earlier, turning his hand slightly to the left. You hiss as the pleasure stings into familiar pain. You cry out, you're awake.

"Awake.." You pant, struggling to remain conscious.

Your mind is clouded over, drunk. Leon's painfully hard in his pants at the scene, his pretty little thing all malleable and helpless. He just had to come rescue you. You never know what kind of sick perverts are out there. (Or in this car with you.)

"Anyone could have come and picked you right off the curb." Leon's lecturing you again, the grip on your plush thighs becomes painful. You'll see bruises tomorrow - damn, he was strong for his age. "Would you like some random man groping you like this? Huh?"

You want to argue with him, to tell him that you're more careful than that - responsible. Truth is, if Leon hadn't been threatening the other man following you? You'd be in that exact situation. To think of it, you did hear a large 'thud' at some point in your drunken stroll.

Your lover makes quick work of your panties, you think you see him stuff them in his jacket.

He doesn't care to take off his gloves, shoving two covered fingers up your cunt. The stretch is instant, painful - it burns. You almost forgot this was a punishment. You try to squirm out of his iron grip, to no avail.

"Nuh.. nah.. hurts." You drool out your words, "Stah..."

Your protests are lost on the older man. Even as you stand - as far as you can while still straddling him - he keeps up the brutal pace.

"You're going to learn this lesson, sober or not. That's not my fucking problem you drank too much." Leon's speaking at you, knowing you're too far gone to be spoken to.

Sobbing, you're not going anywhere. You're trapped in this earned hell. You're bracing yourself against the ceiling of the luxury car, tears falling down onto your lover's lap. Still glad to see him?

His free hand wipes the tears from your face, smudging your makeup in the process. The leather glove stinks of - what you didn't realize at the time - gunshot residue. Leon dons a shit-eating grin as he wipes the mess around your face.

You hate it when he does that. You'd much rather have the sweet, love-making Leon you've come accustomed to.

"Yucky.. yucky!" You try to shut your mouth as your lover attempts to shove his tear and makeup-stained gloved fingers down your throat. You didn't stand a chance against him. Leon gets his way and presses his middle finger down on the middle of your tongue, his index forming a hook to keep your mouth wide open for him. The dubious amount of drinks you had tonight didn't help your gag reflex either. He pulls back right before you'd vomit on him.

You lose your grip on reality as the breath floods back into your lungs. That tightness in your core, right above your clit. You're gonna squirt from this fucked up punishment. Thankfully, you're insanely wet for your older lover, so the gloves don't hurt as much as they did at the start. Your pussy tightens around Leon's fingers.

"Luh.. love you! I'm so sorrysorrysorry..." You gave up running a while ago. You're limp, supported by the man responsible for your rescue and ruin. You keep begging for forgiveness as you squirt all over Leon, the orgasm he forced upon you sending shockwaves through your body.

"I love you too, baby." He keeps thrusting his large fingers in and out, in and out, taking breaks to pull out so you can squirt to your fullest. "I love you so much that I came all the way out here to get your ass off of these streets - punish you so you can make a better fucking choice next time." See, he really did care! If you were gonna get snatched by a psychopath tonight, aren't you glad it's him?

────୨ৎ────

You passed the fuck out right after that orgasm. Leon held you close, rocking you back and forth in his arms. You'd pass in and out of reality, hearing his loving words - happy to know he didn't mean any of the harsh words he'd be yelling at you earlier.

"You did so good for me, sweet love." The older man's voice becomes soft, encompassing you. He hums a tune you hardly recognize as you drift to sleep in his arms, ruined and fucked out.

You wouldn't remember anything past your climax the next morning, but Leon's dedicated to aftercare no matter. You were wrapped in your favorite blanket from home before being carefully tucked in the passenger seat. He'd click the seatbelt over your sleeping frame, afraid any more rough treatment would shatter you for good.

Leon S. Kennedy was your guardian angel, in his own fucked up way - and you wouldn't have it any other way. You smile in your sleep, dreaming of him even now.

⋆ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You and your dear husband, John, have been married together for 4 years, and it has been a truly beautiful relationship for both of you. Although you have always noticed that John tends to get sick from time to time, especially when he's getting older (don't say that to him though, or he'll be terribly mad at you).

But this time was different.

You noticed that he was hiding something from you, most likely because he didn't want to worry you (even though you were already worried and soon-to-be developing a mild heart attack for him whenever he was out for deployment anyways).

You walked into your shared room, deciding not to knock, just this once. Noticing your presence, he looks up from his stack of never ending paperwork that was on his table.

"Love, what did I say to you about knocking?" He tried to answer you in his typical, gruff voice, but you knew him well enough to notice a hint of exhaustion behind those words.

His face was pale, and his breath seemed shallow. You could tell something was wrong.

"John, are you alright?" You ask with a frown on your face.

"No, I'm perfectly fine!" he said, refusing to admit anything. "I'm just a little tired, that's all," he added, hoping you'd let it go.

But you knew him too well even before marriage, and you knew something was seriously wrong with him.

"No, John, you look like you're about to pass out. You look sick since when? Yesterday? You're way beyond 'just tired," you argued back.

"I'm fine, really, it's nothing serious at all!" he tried to convince you, but you were having none of it.

"John, you're pale and sweating, and you've potentially got a fever. You're not 'fine."

He huffed a bit, but then admitted, "Alright, maybe I am a little under the weather, but it's really nothing serious. Just a small cold, nothing I can't deal with."

You let out a very desperate sigh (which shows your current condition with Price) while shaking your head. 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯. You thought to yourself. You got behind him and placed your hands on his shoulder, and he immediately got the memo of what you were going to do.

"Sweetheart, you really don't have to.." He sighed, but you ignored him. You began massaging his shoulders, pressing the knots out while chastising him.

"John, c'mon, let's not pretend this is a small cold." You chastised him gently.

He lets out a groan and gave in into the soothing feeling, dropping everything that he was doing earlier. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥. He thought with a small sigh leaving his lips.

"Okay, okay.. maybe you're right." He admitted. "But I'll just lie down for a bit and I'll be as good as new."

You knew it was for the best, even if he was being stubborn and tried to protest. You led him over to the bed, helping him lie down as he gave a few soft murmurs of thanks. You checked his temperature, which came up at 39-40 degrees celcius, a moderate grade fever.

"See," You showed him the thermometer.

"It's clear you're way beyond this 'small cold' you've been claiming," you scolded him with a satisfied look on your face after you've proved him wrong. He muttered something under his breath, but eventually conceded that he needed some rest.

You carefully drape the blanket over his chest, making sure to keep him warm and comfortable. You left him alone for a bit and came back with a bucket of water with a small towel in it. You then took the damp towel and gently placed it on his forehead, trying to lower his fever as much as possible.

"Now rest, and let me get some soup for you," you instructed him. He grumbled something yet again, but finally nodded and did as you said.

You did as you promised, returning to the kitchen shortly after to make a soup that would be sure to help his recovery. You also added some hot tea with honey and lemon juice, a classic remedy for whenever someone is sick.

You returned to the bedroom with the soup and tea on a tray. Seeing the tray full of supposedly filled medicine, John slowly sat up and leaned his back to the headboard, getting into a comfortable position. You made sure John kept drinking and eating it, and when he was done you put the tray on the nightstand beside the bed.

Slowly but surely, his fever dropped and his color returned. After a short while, he began to fall asleep from exhaustion.

You were just about to head out of the room, but John gently grabbed your wrist with the last ounce of strength he had left, mumbling a quiet "Stay."

Even though you knew he needed his rest, your heart melted at the way he held your wrist so gently. For a moment you hesitated, but if it meant him getting the rest he needed, you'll happily stay with him till' he gets better.

"I'll be right back, love," you whispered softly, giving his hand one last lingering squeeze.

You closed the curtain and turned off the lights, creating a comfortable and low-lit atmosphere. Then you gently climbed into bed with him, finding a cozy spot and wrapping a blanket around the two of you. You leaned close to him, nuzzling against his shoulder and pulling him into you, feeling his presence and feeling comfortable and safe.

NSFW

All the close proximity was just to warm up, right? No ulterior motives here, he is such a sweetie. Well, you aren't as pure.

Having this sunshine boy all to yourself, bodies pressed together under your favorite blanket? It was a matter of time, really.

Right now, you were on your back long ways on the couch. Leon laid on his front, head resting on your stomach. He's focused on the show you put on earlier, listening to your breathing pattern to ground him.

You placed an idle hand on his head, playing with the rookie's hair. It was an innocent gesture, really! You didn't mean to graze over that sensitive spot riiight behind his ear, really.

Leon swallows hard, trying not to moan out. He curses himself internally for being easy. (Only for you.) He whines, looking up at you through doe eyes.

"Do you mind if we...?" He speaks softly, as if giving you a chance to pretend he didn't speak at all.

You quickly agree, going to sit up when -

"No." Leon smiles, hands finding the waistband of your sleep shorts. "Let me do the work. You just focus on being warm, 'know you don't do good with this weather."

Remember Leon's acts of service love language? That applies in between your legs as well. You swear he eats you out for his own pleasure, too.

And what do you do when your Prince Charming boyfriend offers to eat you out? You lean back and spread your legs for him.

Leon gently tugs down your shorts, pressing his face to your sex. He breathes deep, taking in your scent. His lips find the wet patch on your panties and place a chaste kiss there.

Your hands reach to take off your sweatshirt, but are yet again stopped by Leon. He makes another remark 'the only thing you need to do is relax and stay warm while he works.'

The next thing you know, your legs are draped over your boyfriend's shoulders. He's lapping up your love, running a flat tongue over your clit - over and over - just the way you like it.

Leon will eat you out for as long as you'd let him. He'll make you cum time and time again, barely raising his head to breathe. You're the priority here, after all.

After you've been thoroughly fucking ravished, Leon is fast to clean you up. Towels, a fresh change of clothes, that juice you like somehow materializing as he wipes you down.

He'll take you in his arms, now being the one rested upon. And yet...

.｡ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission from Laswell, just like usual. But this time it was a two member recon mission, and they sent you in with Price. The need for intel was imperative. It was crucial to get out without making too much chaos, and you both were a perfect duo to get the job done (if you just ignore how much you admire him).

Laswell's orders were clear and simple, "Get the needed info, and get out without getting detected."

But of course, nothing ever goes as smoothly as one might have expected.

Laswell's voice crackled over the comms, "There's been a change in the situation, I need you both to abort the mission."

"Roger that." Price responded back with no questions asked.

You both prepared your gear and went out of the room, going to the hallway. As you and Price crept in the shadows, avoiding detection, everything seemed to be going as planned.

Until it wasn't, yet again.

The enemies had successfully set an ambush for you both. The situation went south rather quickly, and it seemed as if they had been aware of your plans all along.

Soon all hell broke loose.

"Laswell, we need immediate evac!" Price yelled over the comms, the sound of bullets flying beside him.

"On it, John." She replied back, her voice showing signs of worry.

Gunshots flew everywhere, the sound echoing through the air, nearly hitting one of you once, and the situation turned from bad to worse in the blink of an eye. As the gunshots kept flying, it was only a matter of time before something major would happen, and one of you would get hurt.

You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your body, your heart racing as you realize just how close you were to being hit. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, but you managed to regain your composure and focus on the mission at hand. You were lucky this time, but it was clear as day that this was no ordinary recon mission.

You and Price were hidden behind a wall, trading fire with the enemy at every opportunity. The exit was close, you could see it, but the enemy seemed to have endless numbers, like a never ending wave of threats. Bullets and other projectiles flew past you, some missing you by inches. It was like a wall of lead was being aimed directly at you, and you realized your ammo was running dangerously low.

"Capt, I'm runnin' low on ammo!" You yelled between the sound of bullets whizzing past you.

Just as you finished yelling, the comms cackled to life again, as Laswell's voice could be heard.

"Evac's eight minutes away from your location." She said, earning a groan from Price.

"We don't have eight minutes, Laswell!" He said quickly.

As the fire kept coming at you, you and Price fired your last few shots, and heard the enemy's bullets becoming fewer and fewer with each passing second. The sound of footsteps stopped, the enemy was seemingly retreating. The two of you kept aim, staying alert for any surprises, yet as time passed it seemed more and more likely that the enemy was actually retreating.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

"You'll be fine." He said, his glassy eyes betraying the words that were coming out of his mouth.

He was trying to stay strong, but he was deeply worried for you. He couldn't let you leave him like this, not yet. You two had such a close bond and he wanted to share more with you, to know you more, to hope and experience a future with you.

You noticed that you were carried - or rather cradled in the arms of someone, and the sound his footsteps digging into the mud below made you knew he was running with all his might.

Your vision was rather blurry, but you remembered the events of you being rescued from them.

But it was too late.

You were critically injured by the time he breached the metal door. The wounds that they inflicted on you was still fresh in your mind, and you could still feel every sting of it, even if you could barely make out anything else in the world apart from the voice transporting you.

His voice was strongly familiar and comforting at the same time.

"Just hold on a little bit longer," he pleaded. "I promise we can get to the beach together with the rest of the task force, I promise I'll buy that stupid roach plushie you wanted, I promise I'll let you buy anything you want - So please... please don't leave me yet."

You wanted to speak to the voice, to him, to let him know that it's alright and that you were somewhat still breathing, but the only thing you could do was let out a pained groan.

The person looked relieved when you were alive, even more so when he noticed you trying your hardest to speak to him. "Shhh, it's okay," the voice whispered quietly next to you, holding you close. "I'm here with you.. Just stay awake, yeah?"

Ah, you remember know, that voice - The way it was so soft and familiar, like the touch of a reassuring hand on the back.

You knew it all too well.

It was Gaz, or what you would usually call him, Kyle. He had been your closest companion through all the intense and crazy moments, and now, he was here to help you go through this one.

As much as you wanted to stay with him, to talk to him, to feel him, to delay the bitter end, you knew your time was almost up. Death had called upon you, and it was indeed an unavoidable fate, and you didn't like it one bit.

Why couldn't it wait,

Through teary eyes, you managed to mutter the needed words out: "Just stop…" Your voice was shaky and weak, but you knew Gaz could hear you clearly. "Would you…?"

His heart sank as he realized what you meant by that. You wanted to stop here and face your demise. He didn't want to let you go so quickly, not yet.

"No, no, no," He begged, desperate for you to stay alive. "I promise things will be okay, we can get through this. Just hold on a little bit longer, please."

Just a little bit more?

You were so weak - physically and emotionally - and you felt yourself slowly slipping away little by little.

"I don't think I can hold on," you murmured, your voice so soft and hoarse from all the pain and tears. "I'm so sorry…"

"Please, just stay with me for a little while longer. I need you right now." He begged again, and he would do it a thousand times if it meant you being alive in the end.

You were losing your grip, you were failing to hang on. And you couldn't help but feel guilty for failing to hold on and stay.

"Please, please, please-" Gaz was distraught, falling to his knees in the mud but not caring in the slightest. His arms wrapped closely around you, hands intertwined with yours as he holds you like you were the most precious thing to him.

Even when death was coming to pick you up, all you wanted was to see him. His gentle touch against your skin was a final source of comfort and reassurance. The last thing you wanted to see was him, just one last time…

Ah, of course I can't.

With the final bits of strength that were left in you, your hand went up to his cheek, and your eyes fluttered with love towards him. These last moments were filled with so much emotion, with so much hope and desire.

"Promise me, something…" Your voice was no more than a whisper, but the need for him to know this was strong.

"If I die, stay alive," and you meant it with every fiber of your being. "Eat properly, get enough sleep, act like nothing ever happened, act like I never existed." You didn't want him to ruin his life just because of you.

"Live a happy life without me." That last bit was hard to say, but you had to make sure he knew this. "You'll find someone better than me, I know it. Just know I'll always love you for eternity. Stay alive for me, okay?"

"I will," Gaz replied in a determined voice, his eyes staring right into yours, his expression a little heartbroken while being so strong at the same time. He didn't want to lose you at all, but he couldn't deny the inevitability of what was going to happen.

"I'll eat well, sleep enough, act like nothing happened. But I'll never act like you never existed." It was a bitter truth, one you could both see and feel. "You're the one person I love. And I'll live on for the both of us."

A small chuckle left your lips, a bitter yet amused one. The smile on your face still being amused at his determination, even in the time of death. Everything felt increasingly quiet and your vision began filling with that familiar void of darkness.

It was time, both you and Gaz knew this.

"I love you, Kyle." Those were the last words you said to him, and he knew that was your way of ensuring he knew how much he meant to you. As your voice gave out and your vision went black, you felt the soft embrace of death finally claim you as its own.

He hugged you tighter, desperately wanting to hold on to the final moments you had left together. His embrace was like a last attempt to make you stay a little longer. Every little bit he could get mattered to him at this point, but he was powerless against the forces of fate.

"I love you too," Gaz whispered back softly, his voice filled with so much emotion and regret. He felt your hand grow weak and your body went limp against his own, and he was suddenly overcome with grief. He couldn't stand the thought of losing you like this, but he couldn't deny the imminent reality.

His shoulders started to shake lightly as tears streamed down his cheeks like a waterfall. His face was buried in your shoulder as he cried without end, the feeling of guilt never leaving his aching heart.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.." He whispered one last time.