from jade: baby's first leon kennedy fic! 🥹 no beta, we all just die. wrote this with re4!leon, death island leon, and re9!leon in mind heh
dso’s golden boy, legendary agent leon scott kennedy is reduced to nothing but a human pillow. don’t fret, though. he’s exactly where he wants to be in life.
it’s no secret to anyone that leon kennedy has a physique that most women and men simp for. they can gawk however they like but touching him? that right is reserved for you and you only.
leon knows you’re a touchy person by default. first time he met you, he was immediately engulfed in the warmest hug known to mankind—his knees buckled just a little but that’s a secret he’ll take with him to the grave. when he drove you home after the first date? another hug and a kiss to the cheek that he felt even after days passed. he almost didn’t want to wash his face but thought about your preference for hygienic men.
after four years of dating and three months being engaged, your physical love meter has amped up intensely. before, the most he’ll get is a kiss to the corner of his mouth. now? leon’s lucky if he can even get up after getting mauled into the bed due to your sudden urge to “kiss him all over and eat him up and chew him all up.”
this leads us to now, early morning with the sun peeking through the blinds. leon insisted on a blackout curtain but your argument of “you can’t live in darkness forever” resulted in soft baby pink sheer flower patterned curtains.
it was one of those rare times where you awake earlier than him. to be fair, he just came back from a month-long mission in europe.
you’ve always known leon kennedy was pretty but in these instances of serenity and peace, he’s looking extra gorgeous under the warm sunlight. you lay on your front, head slumped over his stretched out bicep. your cheek is skin-to-skin with the muscle, firm yet comfortable. leon’s on his back, chest rising periodically in deep breaths.
glancing at the clock on the nightstand, you decide it’s time to wake him up. you turn your head, open your mouth, and then—bite. hard enough to jolt him awake but not so much that it bleeds out.
you grin as you watch him rub the sleep away from his eyes. “hi, baby. good morning.”
leon squints at you for a moment, still caught up somewhere between dreaming about flowers with faces chasing him and actually facing the prettiest flower ever (you), before he pinches your cheek.
then he registers the dull ache in his arm.
he stills, contemplating on whether to ask you about it or not. instead he settles for, "...mornin'.”
his voice comes out rough, just the right about of deepness and softness that makes your heart flutter. you lean forward to kiss his stubbled jaw.
the arm you were laying on slips under your shirt, calloused fingers caressing the smooth skin.
usually, leon’s internal clock is impossible to shut off, especially after a mission. years of training have hardwired him into waking up the second he’s conscious. most mornings, he’d already be halfway to the coffee machine by now.
instead, he lets his arm flop back onto the mattress, right in front of you. then stares blankly at the ceiling.
you blink. once. twice. "breakfast?”
the answer comes immediately, accompanied by a sleepy exhale.
leon scott kennedy, the man who survived thousands of bioweapons, government conspiracies, parasitic cults, and whatever the hell europe decided to throw at him this time, was choosing to stay in bed. voluntarily.
"i’m tired." his eyes remained at the ceiling.
there’s no complaint in his voice. just a simple statement of fact.
"you should rest, then.” you hummed. he curls his arm loosely around your shoulders in response. for a second there, leon thought he heard purrs of content from you. huh, he must still be dreaming.
you settle comfortably on your stomach again, phone balanced in front of you. your legs swing back and forth behind you as you load up your game, leon snickers at the sight.
a few seconds later, you lean down to take another bite of his bicep. not enough to hurt. never to hurt him.
leon sighs. “i feel like a chew toy.”
“is that all i am to you?”
“most times, yeah.” and another bite. it doesn’t even faze him anymore.
“aw, thank you, lord kennedy.”
you grin triumphantly before returning your attention to your phone. one hand taps away at the screen while your cheek remains pressed against his arm like it’s the world’s most comfortable pillow. the 4000 dollars pillow currently on the floor glares at you with scorn and betrayal.
every now and then, you absentmindedly nibble at him. to which, he retorts with faux annoyance.
the room falls quiet after that.
only the sounds of your game, the rustle of sheets, and the occasional bite to his arm interrupt the silence.
leon keeps staring at the ceiling.
not because he's thinking about work. not because he's replaying mission reports. not because he's wondering when headquarters will drag him into another disaster.
for once, he's letting himself do absolutely nothing.
he can feel you beside him. your legs kicking lazily in the air. your weight against his arm. your teeth occasionally finding his bicep because apparently that's become a normal thing in this relationship.
and when you shift closer and practically drape yourself over him, leon doesn’t complain. he never does. you’ve got a soft spot in his heart, after all.
he just lets out another slow breath and settles deeper into the mattress. he reminds himself that he’s home. to you.
and if that means another hour of being a chew toy and a human pillow, leon figures he can deal with that. after all, he’s been through worst situations than this.
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