I'm a member of an advanced photography training community. My mentor creates challenges to help demonstrate certain concepts.
This one required shooting a pop-art-style egg photo to show how specular highlights change with hard and soft light.
This was the example image I was to emulate.
A specular highlight is just a direct reflection of the light source.
With hard light, specular highlights are perceived as brighter. To get hard light, the light source must be smaller (or more distant). So the reflection is smaller, but also more concentrated in intensity.
With soft light, the light source is much larger (or closer). So the intensity of the reflection is spread out over a larger area. So it is perceived as dimmer.
Think about looking directly at a flashlight versus shining it against the wall. The same number of photons are involved, but your experience of them is vastly different.
If you are shooting someone with glasses and the light is reflecting brightly, you can move your light much closer to reduce its apparent intensity.
I worked for 10 minutes at a time over a period of 4 days. I got some fake eggs so I wouldn't have to spend energy cooking. Frustratingly, they arrived with a matte finish. They would not take on a specular highlight at all. So I ordered some automotive clear coat and sprayed the fake eggs on my deck.
You may have noticed my context-less egg art on my deck railing in another post. It was drying in the sun.
The clear coat worked well, so I proceeded to glue the egg to some colored construction paper and tape it to the wall in my kitchen.
I don't have a top-down rig to shoot things from above, so I felt this was a creative and low-energy solution.
A bonus aspect of the challenge was to create a Photoshop composite in which I retain the shadows from the hard light example and the gradient specular highlight on the egg yolk. I can't decide if I like that or the soft light version better.
It feels nice to have accomplished something creative. I am struggling so much with boredom as I recover. And doing anything productive is physically challenging. But I've got my birds and now my egg.
Pre-devient Connor, who knows things without you having to say them. He'd know you'd gotten a bad night of sleep by the way you sat, know you'd father called by the firmness your voice took on afterward, or when you flipped your phone over on your desk to avoid piling messages. He rarely said anything, but he'd put up less of a fight when you called off the night early.
Pre-devient Connor, who wishes you wouldn't say the things you did. You took every conversation from the case to RA9, and from RA9 to motivations and justification and emotions. For someone so intelligent, you didn't understand this case at its crux. You were attributing human logic and context to what were only flawed algorithms. He'd explained it to you a thousand times, and you'd agreed. You'd say you were going off of the only experience you'd ever known, that your humanity made you shortsided. But then you'd ask him what it was like. That was a question he could never answer; he wasn't a deviant. He willfully ignored the fact that you were starting to sound like one.
Pre-devient Connor, who gives Amanda only short, curt answers about you. He'd circumvent the topic altogether if he could. She wouldn't understand your importance, your irreplaceability, to the mission, or why it took precedence over your flawed sympathies. The more Amanda was allowed to know, the more likely she was to snip you out as a miscolored rose on her trellis.
Pre-devient Connor, who still doesn't understand the purpose of physical touch, but has almost gotten a hold of it as a practice. He learned by observation: the way you leaned on his shoulder when you got tired, the odd sort of handshake you greeted other officers with, the way you were still holding Emma Philip's mother when Connor left the scene. It came so easily to you. Not to him. He was unsure at first, akward, tentative in everything. Eventally he came to see you appriciated it. You'd smile, and he'd find another exuse to put his hand on your shoulder or your back. Never more.
Pre-devient Connor, whose scruples dissapeared real quick when you caught a bullet to the hip. He didn't think about it, catching you while the deviant ran away behind him. His joints seemed to lock around you, keeping him from letting go even of he wanted to. Blood covered him, red blood, warm blood, the stuff he'd only ever seen in cold pools on the ground. He held his coat to the wound, trying to stop it at the source, and yelling at anyone who tried to get close. You had to be the one to tell him to let the paramedics take you.
Pre-devient Connor, who knows the serial number of every android you see regularly: the coffee shop cashier, the dog walker that follows the same route as you, the WR600 that collects trash on your street. He needed to know, in case one showed up on a report, so he wouldn't have to analyse you as evidence.
Pre-Devient Connor, who sees it, if only a dim impression. He knows you have imbalanced his priorities, interrupted his programming. It terrified him. Like he'd be found out, like Amanda could look him in the eye and see everything wrong with him. He'd be another gravestone in the line. They wouldn't bring him back this time. He had to swallow it, forget it, ignore it. Complete the mission. Then he'd be safe. You would be too, safe from devients.
guess WHOSE hay of choice (because he's a picky asshole just like papa and last hay of choice was apparently so bad he got GI stasis) just became more expensive i have cat and bunny doodles for 5 bucks up in my ko-fi if anyone's interested and yadda yadda. reblogs are appreciated if you can't buy!
“man of action? what are you here to do, roundhouse kick my laptop?”
RE9!Leon x wife!Reader
summary: it's Friday night at last. but instead of snuggling in bed, you are up late, exhausted, and struggling to finish a debrief report for work. luckily, your husband, Leon, knows just how to comfort you with his jokes, charm... and a kiss or two.
tags/warnings: domestic fluff, emphasis on fluff, playful banter, nicknames, minor swearing
w/c: 2.2k
a/n: here is the one-shot as promised from my previousdraft drabble, and before time because i couldn't control myself hehe! enjoy playful domestic clingy leon who loves teasing you, but not before you get the last laugh ;) oh and did i mention FLUFF?
A deep sigh escapes your lips as you drag your fingers through your messy hair, raking back the stray locks that had slipped from behind your ears. You wearily rub your bloodshot eyes with the heels of your palm, sending neon spots darting across your vision. Making a mental note to buy those blue light glasses your colleagues attributed to saving their retina, you leaned back into your chair, urging the leather backrest to swallow you whole. Corporate desk jobs were a nightmare, especially when it involved last-minute paperwork that you can thank your boss for dumping on your shoulders. Of course, writing a thirty-page debrief report on a client meeting was your idea of top five Friday night fantasies, right next to doing the dishes and cleaning the toilet.
The air in your apartment's study seemed to ricochet the bitter undertones of your steadily deteriorating mood; the palpable tension settled like dust over the furniture. Your gaze swept across the oak desk before you, zooming in and filing away data on every strewn piece of your inventory like they were shrapnel of an IED.
Sheets of the report files, stained with circular rims of your morning breakroom coffee, were strewn everywhere like they were hit by a leaf blower. You squinted at the illegible scribbles of pen ink that peppered the page near your dominant hand, trying to decipher the tangle of the so-called "running notes" you had taken in today's meeting. A forgotten cup of espresso was flanked by a litter of crinkled chewing gum wrappers, glinting in the sterile glow of the half-completed report sitting idly on your laptop's screen.
The hours since you reached home at 10pm had passed by with a certain elasticity that normally accompanies a routine grumbling with dry monotony. You had dropped the car keys on the kitchen island and mechanically made yourself a cup of strong black coffee that would surely pass for a biohazard. Your preoccupied mind had barely registered a familiar figure that had stepped through the front door in gym attire, right as you were making a beeline to your home office, where you had been holed up since.
The metallic anger that had rippled over your clenched jaw on the drive home had now been sanded down to a dull irritation that had settled over your bones like a malaise. "Why couldn't my stupid boss have just given me this work on Monday, top priority my ass", you hissed resentfully under your breath, picking up the neglected coffee for a much-needed dose of caffeine.
The acidic bitterness of burnt coffee grounds instantly greeted you, much to your chagrin. A grim scowl splashed across your face, your nose involuntarily scrunching in animated disgust as you swallowed down the inky sludge. Setting the mug down with more force than necessary, you continued to shoot daggers at the blinking cursor that mocked your state of exasperation.
Echoing the sentiments of a petulant teenager, you furrowed your brows in anger and pouted defiantly at the screen. "If this report were a person, which would make it equivalent to my boss," you muttered broodingly to the text ahead of you," I would have tied it to a chair, laughed while I dowsed it in kerosene and set it on-"
"Seems that report writing has finally made you contemplate arson as a professional career choice, huh sweetheart?" a deep baritone chuckled from behind you, rumbling across the room like midnight waves crashing over a rocky shore. Caught red-handed in the middle of your criminal schemes, you froze momentarily before swiftly recovering your composure, straightening your stiff back into a playful mask of innocence.
"Accusing one of resorting to violent tendencies over paperwork seems hypocritical coming from you, Mr. Kennedy", you countered deftly as you gathered the scattered papers into a loose pile. Your gaze flickered across your shoulder, tracking the casual grace with which Leon leaned against your doorframe. A breathy laugh slipped past his lips as he threw his arms up in mock surrender.
“Hey, I won’t confirm or deny those allegations. But if I may defend myself, your honor”, he drawled on, trying and failing to maintain an air of diplomatic stoicism, “I’m a man of action, and not… brain-eating bureaucracy." Choosing to ignore the not-so-subtle snort that you let slip, Leon took a dramatic pause before pushing himself off the doorframe with a cool grace. "Therefore, I am well equipped to help accelerate the pace of your work", he hummed, his voice trailing off like an afterthought, "perhaps offer tips on how to cut corners, tell your boss that our dog ate your report, etcetera…"
You swivel around in your chair, planting your bare feet on the floor as you lock eyes with his steely blue ones. The flecks of jade in his irises twinkled in the amber glow of the overhead light as he eyed your disheveled state in all its glory. Frowning at the unabashed smirk pulling at his lips in amusement, you narrowed your eyes as he slowly sauntered forward in calculating steps. "Man of action? What are you here to do, roundhouse kick my laptop?" you scoffed back at him.
He silently scratched his salt-and-pepper stubble in exaggerated contemplation, then offered, with a light wave of his hand, "Well, I mean, if it means you can come to bed now, I wouldn't mind-"
"Leon Scott, you lost your right to talk about sleep the moment you decided to go to bed while I was literally dying two rooms away," you shot a glare at him as you thrust your index finger accusatorially in his direction. Leon froze like a deer caught in headlights, still two strides away from reaching you.
"Sleeping! Wha- Me?! I was not-" He opened his mouth to protest further, but shut it abruptly as he noted the way your stare swept up and down his attire. Whatever half-baked excuse he had formulated along the lines of how he was busy rearranging the fridge for the last two hours went out the window as he glanced down at himself. A faded old Metallica t-shirt you gifted him a few years ago hung loosely over his broad chest, paired with navy blue flannel pajama bottoms that pooled at his ankles. Leon looked back up at you, a mild confusion written between the crow's feet at the edge of his eyes. Surely, you couldn't have concluded that he had fallen asleep by looking at his pajamas, I mean, he could have just been lounging around in them for all you knew.
The austere façade you tried to hold up crumbled the moment you beheld the lost puppy expression splashed across his face. You laughed gently before raising your eyebrows at him. "Honey, next time, maybe brush down your hair a little if you want to sell the whole 'I was wide awake’ point," you quipped lightly with a wink. Leon blinked twice, brain stuttering as he caught up with your words. A perplexed "huh" slipped out of him quietly, and that’s when he caught his reflection off a nearby window pane out of the corner of his eye.
Surely enough, it looked like a Category 5 hurricane had barreled right through his hair in three different directions all at once. His fine dirty-blonde locks, threaded with silvery tendrils, stuck up disjointedly in every angle available. The signature curtain of hair that normally framed his angular features was now matted backwards, revealing a faint row of wrinkles lining his forehead. He must have face-planted himself in his sleep. How charming.
Leon's mouth parted in silent disbelief at his own lack of attention to detail. The same man who had survived multiple virus outbreaks, killed bioweapons ten times his size, stared death in the eye more times than he can care to count. Betrayed by his own hair. He stared at himself, catching the fit of giggles you were trying to stifle as you clutched your shaking stomach.
"I mean, maybe I was trying out a new hair routine… kids like to keep it edgy these days, you know-", he fumbled hopelessly, looking akin to a kid caught with his hand stuck in a cookie jar. His eyes pleaded with your amused ones in the window's reflection. Reveling in your husband's egregious last-ditch attempts at saving himself, you tilted your head and cocked an eyebrow that seemed to say "Really?".
Leon's head fell forward as he let out an ancient sigh through his nose. One of his hands now moved to scratch the back of his neck, while he shoved the other deep in his pocket with an awkward nervousness. “Alright, Sherlock. You win. Guilty as charged,” he huffed, a sheepish grin toying at his lips.
And in that moment, the exhaustion in every listless bone of your body dissolved into clouds of tiny butterflies that fluttered the way your stomach did when you first saw Leon all those years ago. Despite the maps of scars that charted his body and the rays of wrinkles that creased his eyes, he looked just like when you were young. Heart on his sleeve, boyish charm twinkling in his eyes. Eyes that now softened as he read every thought that lingered by the rims of your own.
A silky silence draped like gossamer around your bodies, enveloping you and Leon in a quiet completeness. The kind that comes from years of learning the way his breath changes when he’s looking at you, or the way your body leans towards him ever so slightly when he enters a room. The cursor continued blinking, the coffee fell a few degrees colder, and time came to a standstill as you slowly stood up from your chair. A numb ache shot through your legs at the sudden movement, as your knees buckled from sitting hours on end.
Before you could even grip your armrest to break your fall, Leon had already crossed the room. His solid hands fell to either side of your waist with steady purpose as he held you up, thumbs pressing reassuringly over your clothed hipbone. You braced yourself against him as you gripped his forearms, feeling the corded muscles flex beneath your palms. The grounding pressure of his touch elicited a soft sigh of pleasure from your lips, as Leon dipped forward to nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. "I've got you, sweetheart", he murmured, hot breath pooling over your cool skin as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clavicle. Eyelids fluttering, you melt into his solid frame like a candle near the sun, a quiet moan escaping your parted lips.
Your fingers find his hair, and Leon groans deeply as you gently drag your nails through his scalp, combing through the tufts of sleep hair. You hum in quiet content as you inhale Leon, filling your lungs with the lulling scent of cedar spice with a lingering hint of gun oil that he can never seem to wash off. He presses his body into yours, grip tightening on your hip as you coax the last rebellious strand of his hair back to normalcy. “There we go”, you whisper, lightly tousling his hair again with tender affection, “But in hindsight, I should have taken a picture of that rockstar hairdo of yours… could have framed it for our living room.”
Leon let out a rough chortle at your décor suggestion, and a high-pitched squeal erupted from your chest as Leon's fingers brushed away from your hips to remorselessly tickle your side. "Leon- stop- okay, okay! Fine, our- wedding pictures- will have to do-", you managed to gasp out amidst your fits of laughter, attempting to escape Leon's dexterous attacks. But of course, you were no match against the seasoned DSO agent, who pinned your flailing limbs against himself without breaking a sweat.
Leon barked out a hearty laugh, thoroughly satisfied with his punishment. He finally let go of you, just enough to cocoon you back into his chest, his warmth permeating through every fiber of your being. "Just shut up, Y/N," he murmured against your hair. You pinched his stomach in response.
Just then, the faint beep of your reminder alarm cut through the room, ripping you out of Leon's arms and thrusting you back into a world of debriefs and paperwork. The whiplash surged through you, and you groaned into Leon's chest before twisting back to face the damned laptop. Prickles of irritation coursed down your back as you snarled at your opponent, fully ready to take Leon's advice from earlier and chuck it out of your apartment window.
Right before you could do anything you would regret on Monday, Leon quickly pulled you back against his chest. He wrapped his sturdy arms around your shoulder, his thick veins brushing your neck. With your back pressed against him, and his chin resting on the crown of your head, you let his weight ground you from any irrational thoughts. You leaned back into him and sighed, as you both eyed the laptop like you were preparing to take down a nemesis.
After a few minutes, the weathered cadence of Leon's deep voice crooned, "How about I sit right here with you, and we'll finish this report together, submit it… and then we can run this stupid laptop over with the Porsche?"
You felt a smirk toy at your lips. "Deal. Oh, and how about a "go fuck yourself" email to my boss, just to round it all off?"
Leon chuckled and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your head. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want."
thank you so much for reading y'all! i had this in the works for a while; the drabble (linked so you can check it out!) from earlier was completed like three weeks ago, and i had already started reworking it into this. i was nervous about publishing this oneshot directly, so i put up the messy drabble first. honestly, i was blown away by the responses, so i just had to treat you guys again xD
i had so much fun writing this one ^flashbacks to me curled up in my chair, giggling at my own laptop like a 15 year old lovesick teen^. i feel like leon would be the kind of man to be playful around his wife, and then proceed to cuddle her cause he's soft like that. or maybe i'm just so down bad for this man :}
hope you caught the few RE references i sprinkled here and there ;)
as always, feedback is welcome in the comments! thank you for all the love and support xx
widowed! leon kennedy who proposed to you the day you turned eighteen, freshly nineteen himself, but so sure and so in love that he wastes no time
widowed! leon kennedy who didn’t have much money, but helped you make your bouquet out of wildflowers and grasses while he kissed your cheeks and picked petals from your clothes
widowed! leon kennedy who felt his heart hammering in his chest when he heard you say “i do”, who scooped you up and kissed you in front the the court officiant since neither of you had any family to invite
widowed! leon kennedy who bought you a simple diamond ring, who swore he was gonna get a new job and buy you everything you could ever want and need
widowed! leon kennedy who let you leave the day before him while he went out with his academy friends to drink at the bar
widowed! leon kennedy who found the scene that forever haunts him, dark red blood stained on fresh carpet, carpet he’d never step foot on before then, who saw the blood soak into the floorboard
widowed! leon kennedy who weeps over you, who almost let’s your infected corpse kill him over having to hurt you, who gets sick when he heard the bullet pierce your cracked skull
widowed! leon kennedy who buried you in the town you two first met, under and old tree with your initials carved into them, something you two did after your first six months together
widowed! leon kennedy who wears your ring around his neck on a tight chain, who never forgets you, never forgets what he is living and fighting for
widowed! leon kennedy who sits besides a framed picture of you when he eats dinner, the few times he’s home to do so, who quietly murmurs to you about his day, staring longingly at your twenty-one self who would never age alongside him
"Doctor Kennedy." Leon drawls in a low tone with a soft grin, getting up from the upholstered waiting room chair and striding towards you. You can already see it in the way he moves; how his posture is much more upright than it has been in the last three months.
"Jesus christ. Could they at least leave the flirting and eyefucking until they leave the reception area?" The red haired receptionist sighs to the curly-haired receptionist once you and Leon are out of earshot. The curly-haired receptionist quirks a brow at the redhead.
"Ah. You must be new here."
tags: 18+, smut, f!pov, oneshot, fingering, butterfly/mating press position, doctor!reader x leon, reader is married to leon, leon had a near-death experience and now all he wants to go is go back to his wife and fuck her brains out because he missed her so much, re9!leon/post requiem events, mention of an age gap but no real details on it, fucking on the medical exam table, inappropriate workplace conduct from mr and mrs kennedy tsk tsk | wc: 2.4k.
After a mission, nobody even tells Leon to "report to medical for clearance" anymore. Instead, they just simply say "go see your wife". Which is exactly what Leon is doing, right after walking away from Grace and putting his ring back on.
That same matching platinum band glints under the cool toned medical lighting, as you finish typing up a clearance report for a poor rookie who sustained a deep laceration to their arm, which is finally in the proliferation stage. You already received a text from Sherry two hours ago; that a cure was found and a sample has just been received by forensics, almost ready to be forwarded on to the lab. Your fingers hover over the membrane keyboard, and you let out a deep sigh that you've been holding in.
Ever since those black, almost mold-like marks appeared on Leon's hands and neck, you've been struggling to keep it together. It was one thing to be married to such a prolific DSO agent, but it was another thing for everyone and their damn dog knowing about Leon's infection and checking in on you about it. Of course your coworkers had good intentions, but every time somebody asked how you're doing, you would feel a crack in your porcelain armor widening. Replying with a neutral expression, you always say something along the lines of "well he's not showing any psychological symptoms and his vitals are otherwise in tact, so I'm staying hopeful" whenever somebody checks in on you. It was a perfect reply - objective and rational, and it made you appear level-headed.
But for the last three months, on the inside you were anything but level-headed. When the lights would go out in the medical wing of the DSO HQ, you would quietly lock your office door and sob. You didn't want to let Leon see you like this; you felt as if he had enough on his plate already, he didn't need to see you crumble too. You wordlessly took it upon yourself to be a steady force for him during this time - to be an anchor while he tries to navigate this storm. After several years of marriage, Leon knows you well enough to see right through you, but he didn't confront you about your unwillingness to cry or break down. He knew that a large part of this act was your own form of coping.
Before you can type another sentence, you hear a knock at your office door and one of the receptionists call out "Doctor? Your husband just entered the waiting room." You feel a giddiness - the same giddiness you've felt all these years since you first began dating Leon.
"Oh, yes. I'll bring him in." You call out, locking your work computer and shrugging your medical coat back on as your pumps echo through the hallway of the consultation wing, the soft 'click clack' in the pattern of your gait already making Leon's ears perk up. "Agent Kennedy." You call out to Leon, crossing your arms with a small smile on your face. It's an entirely unprofessional tone - one full of adoration and love.
"Doctor Kennedy." Leon drawls in a low tone with a soft grin, getting up from the upholstered waiting room chair and striding towards you. You can already see it in the way he moves; how his posture is much more upright than it has been in the last three months.
"Jesus christ. Could they at least leave the flirting and eyefucking until they leave the reception area?" The red haired receptionist sighs to the curly-haired receptionist once you and Leon are out of earshot. The curly-haired receptionist quirks a brow at the redhead.
"Ah. You must be new here."
You lock the door quietly as Leon takes a seat on the edge of the examination table, his muscular thighs splayed across as his hands clasp together loosely. Before doing anything else, you walk up to Leon, placing one hand on his jawline as you kiss him deeply. You've missed the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his stubble gently tickles your chin, and the way his tongue always tastes like spearmint gum. Reluctantly pulling away, you lean back a little on the edge of your desk with a loving grin, although it quickly turns into a look of genuine confusion. "Your… Your face." Is all you can manage to say. You and Leon have a difference in age; you didn't think much of it since at the time of your marriage it didn't appear so significant back then, but a little later down the track people began to confuse Leon for an uncle or father. But since coming back from that mission, you both look identical in age.
"Oh, yeah. That Elpis cure actually worked. I feel better than I have in well, at least a decade." Leon chuckles.
"…You can be honest with me babe. If this was all some kind of elaborate scheme to get a facelift and some lip filler, I won't judge you." You joke, but you're still in a bit of disbelief. Although that disbelief quickly wears off - you've seen and heard of stranger things happening in this field.
"Glad to know my wife still has her sense of humour intact. Didn't miss me too much, did you?" Leon asks with a grin as you approach him to close the space between you both. He stretches his big, muscular arms out to encase you in a hug as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.
"Haha. No actually, I was enjoying the peace and quiet in the home. I finally got a little vacation from those one-liners." You tease, but you are completely lying. Since Leon went on the mission to Rhodes Hill, you stayed in the DSO HQ for the entire duration, even poking your head into Sherry's office when she had some downtime. And Leon knows it.
"Really? Huh. Could've sworn I heard you mumbling in the background about how you were 'going to kill me if I didn't come back alive' in Sherry's headset at uh…" Leon checks his watch for a moment, "probably 2am today?" Leon teases you back. You groan in faux-annoyance, his keen observation skills being both a blessing and a curse.
"Fine… Yes. Of course I missed you." You admit, your lower lip trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I really missed you. I was so scared you weren't going to come back. And you were getting more and more sick by the day but they still insisted on putting you on such a dangerous mission." The dam finally broke as you explain how worried you truly were.
"I know. I could hear you crying in the bathroom before I left for Rhodes Hill. But you were putting on a real brave face for me just so we'd both keep it together, huh?" Leon murmurs as he kisses the side of your temple.
"Don't ever contract a life-threatening virus and worry me like that ever again." You chide him between snivels, but there's no anger in your voice. Just relief. Relief that Leon is finally back and safe.
"I can't make promises, but I'll do my best for you." Leon whispers, the low rumble of his voice soothing you as your tears subside.
Pulling away from his hug as your tears have now dried down to salty damp patches on your cheeks, you properly take his appearance in. You've always found your husband handsome, but seeing him like this… You can't stop staring.
"Something the matter, doc?" Leon tilts his head, aware of your ogling.
"Sorry, I just can't get over how good you look." You let out a short laugh, as his hands find their way to your hips, his thumb tracing little circles over the fabric of your black pencil skirt.
"Could say the same to you." Leon whispers, and you roll your eyes playfully.
"I wish." You retort, aware of your current slightly disheveled and sleep deprived state. Leon's lips brush against your neck. Your hands steady themselves against his thighs, gently but firmly gripping them as your knees wobble a little under the sensation of his touch.
"You don't believe me?" Leon whispers, his fingers playing with the hem of your blouse.
"Hmm. Possibly." Your lower lip catches between your teeth.
"Alright. Let me show my pretty wife how much I've missed her then." Leon gives you a lazy grin, guiding you by the small of your back as you hitch your skirt up a little to straddle him.
"O-one day we're gonna get caught doing this…" You moan softly in his ear, as Leon's hand disappears up your skirt, rubbing your pussy through your already-damp panties.
"Maybe. But they've got much bigger issues to worry about than their best agent fucking their best physician." He replies, the fingertips of his index and middle finger pressing against your clit, causing you to let out a small whimper.
"Insatiable." You breathe out, as Leon pulls your underwear to the side to stroke his fingers against your sopping wet folds.
"I'm the insatiable one? When you're already this wet for me? I'm the one who has to keep up with you, baby." He whispers, before capturing your mouth with his once more. Leon sinks his index and middle fingers inside of you, greedily swallowing the soft moans that escape your mouth as his thumb rubs at your clit.
"F-fuck… Oh god… I've missed you so much…" You whine, as his fingers pick up the pace.
"You did? You really missed me? How about you show me just how much you missed me." Leon's fingers curl upwards, hitting that perfect, sweet spot inside of you, making your breath hitch and your body tense.
"Right there, please, please, don't stop…!" You try to contain your pleads and whines of pleasure, your legs trembling, causing the examination table to shake a little.
"Aww, poor baby. You really needed this. Come on, you can let go now. I've got you." Leon coos in your ear, as you grip onto his shoulders tightly, quietly cumming all over his hand. You slump a little in his arms as you ride out your high, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Leon licks his fingers clean.
"Leon Scott Kennedy. I swear you are going to be the death of me." You rasp out with a fake glare, but your fingers are already nimbly undoing his belt buckle. The wedding band on your finger gleaming momentarily as it catches the light.
"Hey now… Is that any way for a doctor to talk to her patient?" Leon mocks, the deep timbre of his voice causing you to shudder. You free his cock from his underwear; Leon is impossibly hard, his tip drooling with precum, taking on a reddish hue.
"Luckily my patient is also my husband, so he's not allowed to file any complaints." You chuckle, lowering yourself to your knees. Leon gently grasps your shoulder, shaking his head.
"I just wanna be inside of you right now." Leon says. You get up from your knees, and in one swift motion, Leon swaps spots by lifting you up effortlessly and laying you down on the examination table, while he is now standing between your legs. Your skirt is bunched up to your hips, and your underwear is completely drenched with your cum and pulled to the side.
"Please. I need you..." You plead, staring at Leon with blown-out pupils as his big, calloused hands grip the back of your calves to throw them over his shoulders, before his hands travel back to your hips.
"Anything for you, my love." He doesn't waste another second, his hips slowly pushing forward as you feel him stretch your walls, inch by inch, until he's bottomed out inside of you. Letting out a shaky exhale, your glossy lips quiver as the feeling of being totally filled up by his cock makes you squeeze your eyes shut in pure pleasure, your jaw dropping into a perfect little 'o' shape.
"O-oh fuck, more… Please…"
Leon leans down, deepening the angle and rocking his hips into you at a faster and harder pace. "Yes ma'am."
The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelch of your wetness with every thrust makes your cheeks burn red. You're certain if somebody walked past and paused for a moment, they'd hear such lewd sounds coming from your office, but at this point, you don't care one bit. You've missed your husband so much.
"You fuck me so so good… Oh god baby, I've missed you so much." You coo praise in Leon's ear, and you feel his hips pick up the pace even more. You always know exactly what buttons to push when it comes to him.
"S-shit, you're so fuckin' tight. You're squeezing me like fuckin' crazy. Fuck, such a tight, pretty little pussy." Leon rasps out, and his hips buck into you with a fervor that you're unsure of is even possible from a human standpoint. Every thrust Leon makes kisses that spot inside of your cunt so perfectly that your walls clench around his cock with a vice grip.
"Please, please, cum inside of me, please." You whimper, cheeks flushed and your hair plastered to the sides of your sweaty face.
"Yeah, you want my cum? Take it, princess. Take it. You know I'm all yours… Fuck-" Leon groans in pleasure as he feels your pussy tighten around his cock as you cum, your thighs shaking just as much as the examination table beneath you. Your knuckles turn white as you grip onto the edge of the table, eyelids fluttering shut as you reach that perfect peak. And that's all it takes for Leon's orgasm to follow suit, as he hisses in ecstasy, spilling hot, white ropes of his sticky cum inside of you.
"F-fuck… How much energy did that damn cure give you?" You rasp out, catching your breath as Leon's posture is already straightened out.
"Enough for another round. Or two. Or three." He shrugs with red cheeks and a grin as he helps you hop off the table, giving you a moment to fix yourself up and clean up your office space.
"Alright… Slow down there agent. We need to get home first." You chuckle, locking the office door behind you both as you walk through the reception area. Leon wordlessly extends his arm out to you, and you hand him your work bag as he slings it across his broad shoulder, before reaching out again and grabbing his hand in yours.
You have a feeling you may end up in the backseat of his car before you make it home.
summary: leon comes home from a mission. fluffy and domestic.
warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, showering together (sfw)
a/n: this is my first time ever writing here! i hope anyone who might find this enjoys. apologies for any poor or incorrect english.
ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ.
Everything was loud.
Despite your feeble endeavour to plunge your apartment into silence, the typically unnoticed sounds that came with a quiet space now echoed loud behind your eyes. The TV had been turned off hours ago; the cables pulled right out of the walls when you swore you could hear the electricity. Every little thud or hum from the outside world only drove you closer to insanity, the clock on the wall ticking like a metronome to your further fraying patience.
You only wished that your brain had a cable to be sawn, that any thoughts of your husband’s potential death could be prevented from forming in your mind at all. You longed greatly for that sweet mercy, to be capable of telling yourself that he will be home, that the reasons for his absence are merely the traffic, or Claire holding him back to chat ardently about her kids or the lottery numbers. Yet every time you close your eyes, that nauseating sense of horror pools deep in your gut as scenes of Leon’s possible eulogy flash relentlessly through your psyche.
When the doorhandle finally does rattle, you are on your feet within seconds.
The blonde hair. The navy t-shirt. The combined scents of sweat, gunpowder and the most recognisable, the metallic odour of blood left to dry on skin. None of it even has the chance to register before chest hits chest, your arms flinging tight around Leon’s neck, one hand sliding into his unwashed hair.
“You tryna crack a rib there?” Leon’s voice is slightly hoarse, most likely from barking out orders for days on end. Or maybe relief, with the way his shoulders slump and his lips brush reverently over your temple as he holds you back just as firmly.
“You’re lucky it isn’t your damn neck for making me wait so long.” Your response is an attempt at humour, but the sounds that are pulled from your throat are shaky, broken. Raw and relieved, all at the same time.
His arms tighten where they fit around your waist, another feather-light kiss pressed to your hairline. He doesn’t say anything else, but his kiss translates everything he’s trying to say.
I’m sorry.
I’m here now.
I’ve got you.
“I gotta shower this stink off. You joinin’?” He mumbles.
You give a small nod against his chest, letting him guide you through the dimly-lit hallway of your home, towards the bathroom. Leon pulls his own shirt off first, letting the fabric hit the tile floors with an almost silent thud, before making work of yours too. The soft cotton of your pyjama shirt is like heaven against Leon’s fingertips after so long away. Everything seems to move too slow and too fast all at once, your mind only catching up when the warm water sprays against your bare chest, with Leon’s lips gentle on your shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to make you wait up. Things got intense when I got back.”
You nod, yet again.
“I’m just glad you’re home, Leon.”
Leon’s rough hands, yet the same hands always so gentle with you, rotate you by your hips to face him. He leans in, one kiss to your nose, one planted on your forehead, before he moves down to your mouth. He frames your jaw in his large palms, tilting your head back to deepen the connection. Gently gripping his wrists, you kiss him back just as passionately, steam curling around your heads in misty, grey loops. Leon pulls away first, and presses his forehead to yours, damp hair sticking to your skin.
“I love you, so goddamn much.”
“I love you too, Leon.”
With him here, the background noise now seems to evaporate along with the water stream, your conscience finally calming as he lathers shampoo in your hair. You stand tip-toed to return the favour, washing away the thick iron odour of the blood on Leon’s skin with soapy suds scented with lavender. You can’t help letting your eyes wander over the new cuts and scrapes across his body. Bruises and cuts, all just a few days old and in the first stages of the skin healing process, making Leon’s body look even more like a patchwork of scars.
You both rinse off, staying under the water longer than necessary, just watching each other, like you both can’t believe the other is really here. Eventually, you step out, toes against cool floors contrasting with Leon’s thick biceps wrapping one of the fluffy white towels around you, wrapping it at the top so it didn’t fall, then doing the same for himself, tying one at his waist. Your hand slides, the perfect fit, into Leon’s, as the two of you head into the bedroom. The closet opens with a soft clank, and your eyes track the muscles of his back as he pulls out two of his t shirts, a clean pair of navy blue boxers, and some fresh underwear for you. He dresses you first, then himself, notes of lavender shower gel and peony-scented detergent mixing in the air around you both.
You climb into bed, balancing on your knees to yank the covers back and fluffing the pillows. Your hand reaches out to welcome Leon in too, and he need not to be told twice, slipping beneath the sheets and curling around your back like a woodlouse and slides a leg between both of yours. His breathing is slow and hot against your nape, as you finally let everything sink in. Leon allows one hand to rest over your stomach, rubbing small circles into the flesh.
“Been sleepin’ like shit without you snoring beside me.”
You huff out a fond snort of laughter, resting your hand on his bicep.
“You usually complain about my snoring.”
“Cause its loud as fuck. You sound like a damn chainsaw.”
He lets out a breath, pausing for a moment.
“Still, I miss it when its gone.”
You smile at that. The first in days.
“Well, you’re back home now, maybe you’ll regret it when I start snoring tonight.”
[TAGS] — SMUT, fluff, rookie!leon, cowgirl, established relationship, normal!au, premature ejaculation, piv, no female orgasm (sorrae), virgin!leon, experienced!reader (somewhat), leon loves boobs, not proofread (it's 2am..)
[A/N] — I was supposed to write and post this like 2 weeks ago OOPS. I got caught up at anime expo and met real Leons (best experience of my life). But everything is slowing down now so I should get back to my regular schedule soon!
the morning started off with leon showing up at your door far earlier than he should’ve. he had a bouquet of your favorite flowers, messily held together with makeshift paper bag wrap. tucked between the stems was a folded note with a little “happy birthday :D” on the front.
the rest of the day was a constellation of little moments that fit together perfectly. breakfast at your favorite diner where he’d memorized your order. wandering through bookstores and record shops, pretending he wasn’t secretly buying something you eyed a little too long.
an afternoon at the arcade where he cheered for your victories and terribly failed to win you a plushie (then claiming the claw machine cheated). by the time the sun began to set, he took you to a quiet overlook of raccoon city with some takeout and a cupcake. he lit the single candle with a lighter he kept for emergencies and shielded the flame with his hands.
“I don’t know what you wished for,” he whispered, a grin spreading across his face. “but I’ll make sure it comes true.”
by the time you reached his apartment, the excitement of the day settled into something softer, more domestic. his place was dim except for the warm glow of a lamp in the corner.
“I’d say today was a success,” leon sighed, stretching an arm along the back of the couch behind you. “I avoided ruining your birthday.”
“barely,” you giggled.
“oh? barely?”
“you only worried about every little thing all day.”
his cheeks flushed a soft pink. “can you blame me, though?”
you leaned against his shoulder. leon glanced down at you with that shy smile he always wore when he thought you weren’t looking. “thanks for spending today with me.”
“as if there was anywhere else I’d rather be.”
his expression softened as he reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your cheek for a second longer than they needed to.
then, his lips met yours with the same gentle certainty he’d carried through the entire day. it was soft, careful, and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize every second. one kiss became another, each one lingering just a little longer than the last.
but then, leon pulled away. his breath hitched and his palms grew slightly damp when he saw the intense desire reflecting in your eyes.
“I-I think I’m ready,” he whispered, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks. “I want to do it, I want my first to be with you.”
your eyes widened at his words. your relationship with leon had moved at a much slower, more deliberate pace than your past ones, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“are you sure? we don’t have to do anything if you’re not completely ready,” you said softly, brushing his hair out of his face. “I don’t want you to feel pressured just because it’s my birthday…”
“n-no, I’m sure,” he said firmly, his hand gripping your thigh firmly. “I love you…and I can’t see myself doing this with anyone else.”
your heart melted at his confession. you couldn’t help but kiss him again. “I love you so much,” you murmured against his lips. “and I’m not just saying that because you want to give me your virginity.”
leon chuckled, his hands resting on your hips as you moved to straddle his lap. his breath hitched when your fingers danced beneath his shirt, slowly stripping it from him. “just tell me if I make you uncomfortable, okay? want you to feel good, too,” you said softly.
he nodded quickly, like an eager puppy waiting for a treat. his eyes went wide and followed your every move as you slowly slipped your shirt off as well.
“woah…” he breathed out.
you couldn’t help but giggle, your hands coming up to cover your chest. “what?”
“you’re gorgeous.”
he practically lunged for you, his lips making contact with your neck. his hands came up to gentle pry your hands away so he could see you properly. you sighed softly, melting into his touch.
“you’re too sweet,” you whisper, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked love bites into your skin.
leon’s fingers tried to unclasp your bra but failed miserably. he looked up at you with sad, dejected eyes. “I’ve never done this before,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning pink.
you reached back, easily undoing the hook and tossing it to the side. “I know, baby, I know,” you cooed. your hands reached for his, guiding them to your breasts. his hands were clammy, shaky, but eager nonetheless. you moaned softly as he fondled you gently.
“holy shit,” he whispered, letting out a chuckle. “I’m so hard right now.”
you pressed against the raging boner beneath you, letting him feel your throbbing heat. “yeah?”
leon sucked in a breath, his head tipping back against the couch. he let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan. “baby, please,” he begged.
obliging, your hands reached for his belt. in a flash, his pants were discarded and yours were left somewhere across the room.
“do you wanna use a condom?” you asked, your fingers slowly stroking his length. he was already leaking and throbbing, looking as though he might explode any second.
“what do you want to do?” he breathed out, his eyelids drooping heavily. “wanna make…ngh~ you feel good…whatever you think is best…”
you cocked a brow, a soft smile touching your lips as you slowly slid him between your folds. “you sure?” you whispered.
leon’s fingers dug into your hips, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your wetness drenching him. “y-yeah, I’m sure, baby.”
he let out a moan the moment you bottomed out. your body collapsed forward over his, completely overwhelmed by the intense sensation of him hitting all your most sensitive spots. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperately trying to stabilize yourself against the rush of pleasure.
suddenly, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as you felt his lips on your nipples. looking down, you saw leon eagerly sucking on them, his features contorted in pure bliss as his tongue lapped over the sensitive peaks. your core clenched tightly around him at the sight, drawing a sharp, breathless wince from deep within his chest.
“baby…’m not gonna last long,” he whimpered, his voice cracking as his eyes grew watery, staring up at you with utter devotion.
“it’s okay, just let it feel good,” you murmured, leaning down to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his forehead.
leon whined, a desperate, broken sound as his teeth scraped against your nipple. his hips jutted up beneath you, completely starved for the sensation, greedy for more of the agonizing friction. “I-I can’t-” he stuttered, his entire body suddenly going rigid beneath yours.
his fingers locked onto your waist with a bruising grip as he thrusted up one more time. you could feel the intense, rhythmic pulse of his release slowly filling you up, a deep warmth that overflowed until it was slowly leaking down your thighs. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, chest heaving heavily.
“w-wait, you didn’t…” leon breathed out, his voice incredibly small and raspy. his lower lip gave a tiny, subconscious twitch as he realized he finished without you.
“just breathe, baby. don’t worry about me,” you chuckled softly. you leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of his nose, your fingers smoothing the fringe clinging to his forehead.
leon whined, a sweet, embarrassed sound as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you down flush against his chest.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he mumbled against your skin. “I promise. just,...give me a second…”
you couldn't help but smile, combing your fingers through his soft hair as he held you close, content to just melt into his warmth.
sfw and nsfw (below the cut) headcanons for RE9 Leon as a yearner
this is my first time writing headcanons like this, so I'm just dipping my toes into the water. I hope I did him and our requester justice
based on this request
he taunts his brain with the thought of you, only to soon after chide himself when your image lingers too long and it threatens permanent residency
whether you're a coworker, too young for him by his own lofty standards, his neighbor, or just far too amazing of a person to deserve being stuck with someone like him, Leon prohibits himself from crossing any boundaries (no matter how eager you are to do so)
Yet, he's the first person to "accidentally" brush up against you while he races past you to open the door, to touch the small of your back as you navigate through a crowd, tuck your hair behind your ear
he finds any way to see your face, whether it's by being your own personal coffee-delivery boy, or the one to troubleshoot your computer
he's always struggling not to touch you, the desire so strong that, when he musters up enough courage not to reach out and wrap an arm around your shoulders, it looks as though he's teetering on the edge of internal combustion
his hands get fidgety and his upper body tenses, and he can't bring himself to meet your gaze or he knows for sure he wouldn't be able to resist
and when you two get together, finally, the floodgates are busted down like the doors of a medieval fortress and there's not a moment that goes by that he's not attempting to make contact, whether it's to sate his need for physical touch, or to make sure you're safe and still within arm's reach
he's left to his imagination when the night is too dark and lonely, and his bed is too empty
it starts off chaste enough by palming the growing erection that strains the weave of his sweatpants, and he owes himself that at least
you're the first person who has been able to rouse his dick from the dead after a few years of a sever in his body-mind connection, whether it came from old age or the decades of being thrown against walls like an al dente noodle
yet he still mumbles and incoherent strain of deprecating admonishments as shoves his pants down his thighs and takes his rock-hard dick in his palm
it's you he pictures stroking his length with the soft hand that always come up to touch his bicep whenever the two of you are conversing
your entire being is so tangible in his mind that he can quite literally smell the sweet scent of your perfume in his nostrils as he inhales a sharp breath
he prays that the walls are thick enough to drown out the sound of your name, violently loud on his tongue, as he approaches his peak
and it's your body he imagines wrapped around him as he finishes on what is, unfortunately, his own stomach
