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
summary: leon can't stand the rookie assigned to him... allegedly.
word count: 3.8k
tags: vaguely edited; rookie!reader; afab!reader but neutral pronouns; crude humor + bad jokes; implied age gap; smut (pwp, fingering, piv, car sex, creampie).
a/n: inspired by this tiktok <3 one thing abt me is i love an hr violation!!
Leon isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.
He never wanted to train another agent in the first place. The last thing he wanted was some wide-eyed newbie trailing behind him to make his job harder. It’s bad enough going on missions alone, fighting against whatever fucked up, biochemically-engineered, zombified monstrosities are waiting for him. He can’t risk having an egotistical trainee around for some on-the-job training.
Unfortunately for Leon, you are exactly the type of rookie he prayed he would never be stuck with.
When Leon first met you, he was surprised by your lack of filter. After he extended his hand to you and introduced himself by name and title (as is expected of him), the first words out of your mouth were not a typical greeting. Instead, you grasped his hand with a firm shake, your lips parted in wonder.
“Wow,” you said, low and breathy. Leon almost expected the awestruck praise of a fan until you followed up with: “Your hair is exactly the same as the decades-old photos.”
Needless to say, he was not pleased.
You haven’t been much better since then. Even though you apologized for the unintentional insult, Leon has yet to forgive you for your transgression. If it were anyone else, he probably would have gotten over it by now. But you, with your constant airheaded attitude and annoyingly bright smiles, make it hard to forgive and forget. He’s stern with you in such a way he does not display with others; he speaks down to you, as if herding a child around throughout the office and on missions.
Despite his gruffness, you seem wholly unaffected.
You talk constantly. You just don’t know when to stop. It’s like you’re incapable of sitting in silence, like a bomb is strapped to your chest that reads MUST SPEAK OR WILL BLOW UP. It’s the only explanation as to why you cannot for the life of you hold your tongue in any given scenario. If Leon demands for you to be quiet, you can shut your mouth for roughly twenty seconds before you say something stupid, like: “Do you think worms have feelings?”
It’s a miracle he hasn’t strangled you yet.
Although you’ve had a handful of investigative missions with Leon in the past few months of training and shadowing his work, you have yet to see any real action. So, when Leon is tasked with clearing out one of Umbrella’s abandoned testing facilities, he’s absolutely horrified to bring you along with him.
It’s a rainy day. Leon grips the steering wheel as he drives the Porsche — his beloved, company-issued vehicle — while you drum a beat on your thigh. Much to his chagrin, you’ve pushed your seat back and kicked your feet up on the dashboard. He keeps glancing at your boots with a grimace, damn near close to popping a blood vessel when he sees your foot bobbing along to the radio (which you, of course, switched on). His only respite is that you kept it on his favorite rock station; he’s slightly less pleased when you hum along to it, interrupting his listening with the sound of your off-key singing.
After several long minutes of driving, Leon grunts, “Can you please take this seriously?”
Your eyes dart from a relay race of raindrops on the window to the aging agent beside you. You lift your brows curiously. “What do you mean? I am serious.”
“Get your feet off the dash.”
His jaw is clenched and his knuckles are turning white, so you reluctantly obey, dropping your feet on the floor of the car. With a slight pout, you shift in your seat. Then again. Then yet again. The leather squeaks against your uniform. Eventually, you recline the seat back a few inches. Leon’s eye twitches.
“You need to be prepared for anything,” Leon mutters, already going on a tangent. “This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a shooting range. If you don’t have your head on straight, it’s life or death. You might’ve gotten lucky getting by until now, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to save you if you get yourself into trouble. Got it?”
By the end of his rant, Leon nearly runs a red light. He slams on the breaks a little too hard; you jolt forward, but the seatbelt catches to hold you in place. Still, the force of it is surprise enough that you let out a little oof under your breath, and your hands shoot out to catch the door handle for stability.
“Damn,” you exclaim. “I think I should be more worried about your traffic violations.”
Your stupid quip is the straw that breaks Leon’s aching back.
The second the light turns green, Leon hits the gas with a heavy thud and a screech of tires. You let out a yelp, straightening up in your seat and swiveling your head around to look at the agent.
“Woah! Slow down, you’re gonna kill us before we even get there—!”
Your comment is cut short when Leon abruptly pulls over at the side of the road. The Porsche sits crookedly against the curb, nearly taking down a streetlight. When Leon shifts the gear into park and trains his gaze upon you, the rain suddenly pelts furiously against the windows. For once in your life, you’re silent.
Leon looks like he might finally risk it all — hefty paycheck included — to commit a murder. His stare alone is withering. You shrink in the passenger seat, staring back at him with wide eyes.
“Shut. Up.” His words are gritted out through his teeth, so fierce and venomous that your heart thuds beneath your ribcage.
Except, instead of fear, you’re instilled with something far more rageful.
Your expression shifts from shock to offense. The leather seat squeaks when you suddenly lean forward, turning as best as you can with the seatbelt still holding you in.
“Excuse you, Agent Kennedy, but you need to stop treating me like I’m a liability.”
Before Leon can even attempt to get another word in, you put your hand up to stop him.
“No, it’s my turn,” you say, effectively shutting him up. “I know you hate me. A lot of people do. Unfortunately for you, sir, you’re stuck with me. I know I’m a good agent. Deny it all you want, but we both know it. My personality might not be your cup of tea, but I’m not being trained on personality, now, am I? I’m not an idiot, and I sure as hell didn’t land here by chance. All I’m personally waiting for is the day that I get a promotion so you can stop calling me ‘rookie.’”
After the completion of your monologue, you huff, finally taking a breath. You look visibility relieved to get everything off your chest. Once you’ve settled down, you sigh, wiping nonexistent sweat from your brow.
“Shit, that took a lot out of me,” you mutter, more to yourself than him.
Leon gapes at you. In all his time knowing you, you’ve never complained or fought back when he griped at you. You might make a sarcastic comment or say something insulting, sure, but even he knows your negligent responses are nothing personal. You’re exactly right — you are a good agent, a great one, even. You do your work. You’re efficient. You’re quick-thinking. You’re impressive for a rookie — a goddamn Swiss Army Knife of a human being.
Still — despite all his nitpicking towards you, he has never, ever seen you angry.
His hands have gone slack from the steering wheel, settling upon his thighs instead. He’s a little embarrassed to be called out so bluntly. He’s gotten used to other agents treating him like he’s tough shit; he forgot, for a moment, what it must feel like to be you. Back when he was still a rookie cop, Leon recalls being eager to prove himself. Of course, his first day was perhaps the shittiest first day in the history of all of mankind, but — if he’s being honest with himself — you’re far more skilled than he was back then.
Suddenly, Leon laughs. Not a hearty, full-body laugh, but a breathy chuckle — it’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him, anyway. Your eyes dart back to Leon in surprise.
“Huh? What?” You wonder, eyes sparkling under the dim streetlight outside the car.
Leon stares back at you, and suddenly the tension he created has twisted into something else. It settles close to his heart, wedged just beneath his sternum — but it travels lower, too, a weight that heats up low in his stomach like a simmering pot.
“Nothing,” he says at first. Upon seeing your unconvinced expression, Leon tries again: “I don’t hate you.”
You blink, surprised. “Really?”
“Really.” He swallows, glancing aside briefly. “I just wish you were a little more focused.”
“I’m extremely focused, Agent Kennedy.”
Although you don’t say it flirtatiously, Leon can’t help the heat in his loins when you call him Agent Kennedy with an adorable level of formality — a formality he has long put up as a divide between you and him. Now, that formality feels painfully ridiculous.
He swallows, rubbing his thighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. “Right.”
You tilt your head, eyes darting from his hands to his face. “You shouldn’t doubt my skills.”
“I know.”
“And I am very skilled.”
“I’m sure you are.”
A beat of silence. The tension is back with a vengeance, thicker now, tinged with something that has you pressing your thighs together.
“Leon.”
He can’t help himself when his breath catches. The formality is gone in an instant, crumpled with the sound of your softened voice alone. Leon reluctantly faces you, and he has to hold his breath when your face catches the flickering yellow light of the streetlamp. The rain has made everything hazy and dim around them, but Leon sees you in full clarity.
“Yeah, rookie?” His voice cracks.
You smile. “We’re not being timed, are we?”
Leon is so taken aback that he flinches. With a slight stammer, he manages to reply: “What? No.” He pauses, trying to reel himself in before he can start thinking about reclining that seat of yours even more. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Ideas? Like what?” You ask innocently, batting your lashes. “I was just asking. Professional curiosity.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“Well, there’s something purring in here, and it’s certainly not the Porsche.”
Leon chokes on his own spit. He rips his gaze away from you. Your stupid little innuendo shouldn’t work him up this much, and yet, his body responds. Your desire is infectious, spurring on his own, not unlike the biohazards he so often deals with.
“We have a mission,” he reminds you — though, really, he’s trying to remind himself. You’re his trainee. You’re younger than him. If anyone finds out that Leon Kennedy screwed his subordinate — on a mission, no less — he would surely be crucified.
You roll your eyes, rubbing your thighs together. It’s cute how he tries to pretend he isn’t obviously hard in his pants right now, but you’re getting impatient.
“This is a life or death mission, Leon,” you sigh. “It could be my final hours. I’d like to enjoy them.”
Leon tenses, forcing his eyes back to you. “Don’t joke about that,” he mutters sharply — and this time, you know you’ve truly crossed a boundary. You press your lips together, nodding slowly.
“Okay,” you murmur, “but the fact remains.”
It’s deathly quiet in the car. Aside from the rain pouring down on the roof of the Porsche, there’s not a sound to be heard. You almost think Leon might refuse you again or straight up kick you out of the vehicle, but then he scoffs, shaking his head as he glances out the front window.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he grumbles to himself.
Before you can probe him about whatever that means, Leon clicks his seatbelt free. He leans over, swiftly shifting his weight whilst his hands fly to you — one to cup your jaw, and the other to unfasten your seatbelt.
His mouth meets yours in a firm kiss. Despite your instigating, it’s still a shock to you when Leon actually follows through. Once the shock wears off, though, you’re closing your eyes and tugging at the front of his form-fitting black shirt. You pull him as close as the vehicle will allow without him climbing into the passenger seat with you. Leon trails his hand from your jaw to your neck to your chest, cupping your breast through your shirt. With a moan, the muscles in your thighs go tense; you press your mouth against his even harder. Your teeth nip at Leon’s lower lip. He groans, squeezing his hand around your breast harshly enough to make you gasp.
He keeps kissing you, sliding his tongue just past your lips — enough to ask permission — before you respond in kind. One of your hands dares to travel down, skirting over his stomach — he twitches from the touch — until you find his belt. With just one hand, you manage to unhook the buckle, loosening the strip of leather around his waist. The act is so impressive that Leon actually pulls away from the kiss to narrow his eyes at you.
“How did you—?”
“I’m skilled,” you remind him. “Highly skilled.”
He hums, amused. “Not bad for a rookie.”
You roll your eyes, already working at his zipper to slip your hand down the front of his boxers. His breath gets caught in his throat.
“I hate when you call me that,” you mutter, “like I’m inferior to you.”
“You— fuck— You are my subordinate,” he rasps, his hips jerking forward when you palm his length. When precum leaks from the tip, he grits his teeth. “...But I’ll stop. For you.”
You smile, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. “Oh? Just for me, huh? Good boy.”
Leon’s cock twitches in your hand. He blushes from head to toe, hardly able to restrain a full-body shudder. “I’m not a boy,” he gripes.
“Okay,” you muse, unconvinced. You abruptly pull your hand out of his pants, leaving him without the pleasurable friction you so politely offered. “Prove it. Fuck me like a man.”
Leon isn’t keen on losing this battle.
The older agent abruptly shoves your shoulder until you’re leaning back in the passenger seat. You let out a startled sound that almost makes him laugh, followed by another sound when he crawls over to the passenger side, reclining your seat all the way back. He plants his knees on either side of your hips, looking down at you.
“You make a lot of noises,” he mutters, beginning to loosen your pants. “Are you always this loud?”
With a huff, you let Leon take over, watching him with hooded eyes. “Well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”
He grunts, his face hovering over yours. “Guess so.”
The second his hand slips into your underwear, you let out a shuddering breath.
You’re already wet, which is no surprise to Leon — you were begging him to fuck you, for god’s sake — but he is surprised when his fingers slip between your folds by accident the second he touches you. It’s slick enough to get lost down there if he’s not careful.
“Jesus,” he mutters, grazing his fingers over your cunt. Your hands fly up to grip his arm for stability. “Don’t think I’ve ever felt a pussy this wet. Might drown in it.”
Your hips jerk upward when his thumb briefly circles your clit. His stupid joke is willfully ignored in favor of a whimper, your nails digging into his biceps. “Please,” you beg, “I’m gonna cum.”
“Already?” Leon scoffs, barely dipping a finger inside your hole before removing it. “I’ve hardly touched you.”
“Leon—” You’re about to angrily protest when his finger teases you again, this time sinking up to his knuckle. You choke on a moan, tossing your head back and shifting your hips. With a desperation that awes him, you attempt to get off on his finger alone, trying to create enough friction with a single digit. Leon feels his cock twitch in anticipation.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Gotta get you ready.”
“I’m ready,” you pant, still canting your hips against his middle finger.
“No, let me—”
“Leon.” Your stern voice returns, barely sheathed by the lust overtaking you. “I’m ready. Please.”
His gray eyes meet yours, and he knows there’s no room for protest.
Leon drops down to kiss you again whilst shoving his pants down. You assist him when he moves to yours, next; you lift your hips enough to let your jeans slide down, anchoring yourself with your arms around his neck. Leon hooks his finger — the one that was just inside you — around the elastic of your underwear, tugging those halfway down your thighs. It’s just enough for him to lower his body, guiding the head of his length to your dripping cunt. He teases your folds one more time, dragging the tip over your leaking slit, lathering his cock with your slick.
You both watch with baited breath as Leon nudges his way into your entrance. A soft breath escapes his lips — a sound of pure, unfiltered pleasure — as he slowly buries the first inch inside you. He holds his length steady as he gently rocks his hips, easing another inch in with every slow thrust.
“Leon…” His name leaves your mouth in a low, breathless murmur.
“I know,” he murmurs, meeting your volume as if you’re whispering in a movie theater. “I’m getting there. Have a little patience.”
Much to his surprise, you withhold your protests for the time being. All he hears from you now is your soft, breathy gasps every time he sheathes himself fully within your cunt. The radio is still playing faintly, but the older agent is hardly focused on the sound. He prefers your moans and whimpers and sighs, the way you cling to his shoulders, how your chests rub against each other. He eventually slips his hand under your shirt, pushing the hem up to your collar. He fucks you slow whilst his hand goes to your back, and — in record time — he unfastens your bra, tugging one of the cups down to knead at your breast.
With a husky laugh, you speak against his mouth. “Nice work,” you praise.
Leon manages to chuckle. “Highly skilled,” he mutters, echoing your earlier words.
You toss your head back against the seat when he tucks his head down to latch his mouth onto your breast. His tongue presses flat against your pebbled nipple; you arch into the contact, feeling his hot breath and wet muscle circle the sensitive skin. Your fingers fly to his hair, giving the silver strands a harsh tug.
“Fuck,” you moan. Your hips jerk upward to meet his; if your jeans weren’t caught at your knees, you’d lift your legs up to pull him closer. Unfortunately, your movements are restricted.
On the bright side, Leon seems to know just what you need.
He wraps an arm around your middle, holding his weight up with just one elbow on the leather seat. He fucks you more insistently, sucking your nipple and swirling his tongue around the bud as he thrusts deeper. You can see why he wanted to get you ready on his fingers — the stretch is almost painful when he hits so deep like this. You feel dizzy with lust, though, high enough on your own hormonal needs that the pain is practically nonexistent. Your body leans into his every touch, aching for more, faster, harder — you make your wants known not through words, but with every flutter of your cunt around his cock and the steady stream of whines bursting from your throat.
Leon finally pops his mouth off your nipple, turning back to you for a heated kiss. Something snaps in you; with his thrusts, the friction between your bodies, and the heat rising within the car, you orgasm. Your walls squeeze around his cock, locking around him in a vice grip. He groans into your mouth, slowing the roll of his hips. He hasn’t come yet, but you’re sure he’s close, given his twitching cock.
“Come inside me,” you plead, the words crashing together into a barely-coherent mumble. “Please, please—”
Leon drops his forehead against yours. With a few more harsh thrusts, he shoots his load inside you, spilling out heavily. You gasp with every spurt of his seed that fills your aching heat.
Still, even after Leon pulls out of your sensitive hole, you’re not done. You don’t let him leave completely, one hand still gripping his hair while the other catches his forearm.
“More,” you pant, nudging your nose against his. “Please. I’m not done yet.”
With a harsh swallow, Leon shakes his head, red-faced and glistening with sweat. “I’m gonna need a few minutes, sweetheart.” Realistically, he might need a week to get it up again, but that’s not something he’s about to get into explaining.
“Use your hand,” you whine, digging your nails into his skin. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
Leon pauses before ghosting his hand over your navel. “Later.” He says the word as if it’s foreign. His eyes narrow. “After the mission?”
You nod fervently. Leon’s jaw tightens. Then, he presses his fingers to your mouth, nudging your lips apart. You open up for him, sucking on the digits and swirling your tongue around them until he decides it’s enough.
“That means you have to listen to me,” he mutters, slowly letting his hand trail down to your cunt. “Don’t mess around. Ease up on the bad jokes.” He slips a single finger inside you. “You have to promise me you’ll be safe.”
You nod, staring up at your superior with fluttering lashes. “I promise. I’m a good agent, aren’t I?”
Leon hums. He lets a second digit fill you, thrusting them inside your sopping hole right up to the knuckle. When he gets a whimper out of you, he rewards you with a response.
“You are. You’re good. Good enough to keep around, if you play your cards right.”
Leon fucks you with his fingers. The rain outside is barely enough to drown out the loud, wet slap of his hand against your cunt, of the collection of cum currently nestled inside your hole. Your walls flutter again when he hooks his fingers, pressing against a sensitive, spongy spot that makes your hips jerk against his palm.
“Gonna cum again for me, agent?”
You nod, blubbering out something that sounds like a ‘yes’ before your brows knit together. You orgasm for the second time, gushing around his dexterous fingers until you have to shove his hand away to avoid overstimulation.
After a moment to collect yourself, you sigh, meeting Leon’s content expression with your own look of satisfaction.
“You know,” you breathe, “I prefer when you call me ‘agent’ as opposed to ‘rookie.’”
Leon cracks a smile.
“I’ll make sure you get that promotion, sweetheart.”
One of the few times you saw him reach relief was when his cock was buried to the hilt in you. Twitching itself to life as he prepared to fuck you for the second time tonight. It was only fair after he had been away for so long, death creeping the dark corners of his life as he rotted away with the curse of his past. He left out that bit of course, if he told you, he knew you would never let him this deep. He would be underneath you as you used him like a toy.
Not that he wouldn't of minded, but he needed to grasp at you. Have his finger dig into the flesh of your hips as he cock merciless thrusted inside of you as deep as he could. The load he had put in you just moments ago now frothing out of your tight hole. The sounds better than any porno he had watched in the shitty motels he forced himself to stay in.
Going no contact was horrible, the looming threat of victor getting you left a bitter taste in his mouth whilst he was away. A constant sweat forming on his body as he thought about the apartment being raided by his enemies. He needed you safe, tucked far away in the countryside where no one could find you.
As his cock twitched inside you he thought of a ranch, with huge land for your kids to run around in. Perhaps a dog mixed in with you all, a few farm animals to stop the need to go into town. He saw you standing there swollen with his child as you tended to the previous one he gave you.
He could make it happen now, hell with his first load spilling out of you he probably already has. As his intentions became clear your smile grew and your legs spread. Allowing him to fuck his cum deeper inside you. Your knees hit your shoulder, folded in the way he knew he could get deeper. He sighed as he felt the relief of his orgasm spill inside you. Combining with the cocktail of sex he has made already.
You felt his hand land on your stomach as you unfolded, his eyes finally happy...hopeful as he watched your cunt spill his seed. Over filled with his dreams of a future. A safe one.
