[hutchersonsgurl]

MASTER LISTS

Mike schmidt

Clapton Davis

Josh futturman

Sean Anderson

Rick Grimes

Daryl dixon

Shane Walsh

Negan Smith

Derek Danforth

[darlingshane]

restless heart syndrome - green day

[txjiro]

both at the same damn time

[lunisvfx]

OMG🥹 new trailer "the punisher: one last kill"

[tinytownn]

keep 'em on –

rick grimes x f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: where rick grimes wears glasses and then KEEPS THEM ONNNN

content: 18+ [SMUT WARNING], rick is THE munch that man WORSHIPS omg, one toe moment (idk i got carried away), can be seen as a continuation of bnb or a standalone, foggyglassesfoggyglasses

a/n: gonna change my username to ricksfoggyglasses after this post bc OHMYGODDD IM OBSESSED !! as always thank you to @kitty-grimes for beta readinggg and always getting the vision frfr <333 also thank you @twd-bee3 and @cece-says-stuff for some fic inspo earlier !!

leave all requests here…

It was another lazy Sunday morning where the sun brushed through the curtains and soaked you in its playful warmth, kissing your skin from beneath the covers. Without even opening your eyes, you turned on your back, expectantly awaiting Rick’s beckoning arms. When he didn’t pull you closer, didn’t even twitch, you peeked through a sneakily lifted lid. 

He wasn’t there.

Frowning, you whined into the empty air of the room. Part of you wished he would’ve heard you, undoubtedly guilted into crawling back underneath the covers. You knew better though, he had been busy this past week, and you should have expected this. 

It was an urgent case—all hands on-deck—the type of ordeal that made its way into the news. You didn’t bother researching it or asking questions, knowing the last thing he’d want to do was go over details of the case he couldn’t escape.

Even now, in the old, dusty La-z-boy that was supposed to be reserved for early morning coffee, he was working on that damn case. Files littered the table, yellow manilla folders piled in stacks until they toppled into the liquidy rings of coffee scattered around the glass.

He had gotten up early. Earlier than he would’ve liked on what was supposed to be his day off, but he wanted to spend the day with you before you went back to work on Monday. He figured that if he got all this paperwork out of the way before you even woke up, then he’d have plenty of time, and possibly a moment to crawl back into bed with you.

His wish wouldn’t seem to be coming true though. He heard your soft, gentle footsteps as they tiptoed down the hall. 

A tender smile twitched the corners of his lips. “Good mornin’, baby.”

Sluggish knuckles wiped at your sleep-crusted eyes, lips curled into a frowning pout. “You left me…”

Finally, he glanced up from his work. He grinned, pupils dilated while he looked you over: Hair tousled with just his t-shirt on—some old, faded logo of a concert he’d been to—with a pair of oversized slippers that dragged on the floor.

“Had t’get some work done this mornin’.” Patting his thigh, he beckoned you closer. “C’mere.”

Prancing between his legs, you nestled onto his lap, taking interest in the new accessory your lover donned. Limbs curled onto the recliner, you grinned, arms draped over his shoulders, toying with the edges of his ears.

“What’re these?” you gawked, tapping the lens of the black-rimmed glasses Rick had balanced on his nose. As many times as you had been in his room, searched through his things, or even done his laundry, never once had you noticed a pair of glasses. “I didn’t know you had these.”

He jumped back a little, biting back the smile on his lips—it would have only urged you on—while he refocused on whatever he was reading. 

“M’reading glasses,” he mumbled, jotting down a string of bullet points.

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I can see that. Where’d you get them? They look good.”

You definitely weren’t lying. It was a subtle change, but the way the older man looked with those glasses had your mind wandering. 

Even though you lived with him, it felt intimate seeing him like this—readers tipped on his nose, leaned back in his recliner—as if he was truly at home here with you. The glasses made him look more mature than the uniform he always wore, a change that you didn’t seem to mind.

Rick had been letting his facial hair grow out too. What was usually a short, maintained stubble, curled into the beginnings of a thicker, more full beard. It wasn’t too long, but was still nice to run your fingers in. You let your nails wander through the coarseness, tapping at the rim of his frames.

He shook your hands from his face, letting out an impatient grumble. “Don’t r’member, they make me look old.”

The words came out so matter-of-factly, like he was declaring this so-called truth and got to shun you from this glorious view.

You rolled your eyes. “They make you look hot– like I should be calling you Mr. Grimes instead.”

He huffed out a laugh, eyes never leaving the paper he was now just mindlessly skimming through. “S’that so?”

Raising an eyebrow, he was really trying to focus on his paperwork. The way your words curled off your tongue though, all soft and sultry even this early in the morning, had his cock twitching in his sweatpants. 

You nodded, a desperate whine muffled into his neck. 

Rick needed to get this done. It was supposed to be on his boss’ desk by tomorrow morning.

He couldn’t focus though. Not with your needy hips rutting against him, coaxing a low groan from his lips.

His hands roamed to your waist, stilling your movements with his strong hands. He planted you firmly against him, those icy blues flickering over you with a restrained wanting through the thick frames.

“Give me an hour, darlin’,” he chuckled, adjusting the readers up the bridge of his nose. His scruff scratched against your cheek as he leaned down to the coffee table, shuffling the array of papers. “Need’ta get this done, then you have all my attention.”

His eyebrows raised, giving you a look as if to say, ‘deal?’, but you clearly weren’t having it.

Bottom lip jutting out in a pitiful pout, you swung your legs over the arm of the chair. Your arms crossed, a sharp huff of air shooting out your nose, and you purposefully turned your head away, chin pointed to the sky.

“An hour?” There was a small twitch in the corner of your lips when you said it as if your tone was just to piss him off—if that was even possible. “You said we’d have the whole day together.”

Rick frowned, dropping his pen and leaning back in the old recliner as its hinges shuddered out a strained squeak. 

“I know,” he sighed, hands roaming your exposed thighs, “thought I’d have more time before you woke up. Y’know if it were up to me we’d be in that bed all day.”

He laughed huskily—almost mockingly—at your early morning attitude. 

You were insatiable. Even now, doing your best to inch closer to him, he could feel the thin cotton of your underwear soaking through his sweats, pressing into his bulge through the fabric. He could practically feel your folds gliding along his length as you subconsciously twitched your hips. 

A tired babble left your lips while his hands roamed, exploring all the skin you had so generously left on display for him. Greedily, his fingers latched around the back of your thighs, squeezing the flesh then smoothing it tenderly. 

Coaxing you back onto his lap, you curled up onto his legs, sheepishly peering up at him through tousled hair. He scrunched his nose uncomfortably as the old, scratched frames slid further down his face. You reached up, taking hold of either side of the wobbly hinges, and pushed them back into place.

He smiled down at you warmly. “How ‘bout I help you fall back asleep, hmm?” His hands were rougher now, trying to meld with your skin. “I’ll even have breakfast waitin’ when you wake back up.”

A sly smile creeped on your lips. “Make them cinnamon and you’ve got a deal.”

Rick’s thick fingers wrapped gently around your hair, brushing it over your shoulder. His beard tickled your neck as he dipped his head down to plant slow, breathy kisses. Each one was followed by a long drag of his lips along your skin, the tip of his nose nudging against your ear.

Your nails curled their way through his scalp. They dragged down between his shoulderblades, leaving deep, red marks that made him nip at your neck.

You yelped, pushing his shoulders until he hit the back of the chair. He looked up at you with a lovesick smile, a certain glaze going over his eyes that made his lips part in awe and his pupils swell. 

“C’mon then,” he nodded his head back towards the hallway, but his eyes never left yours, “back t’bed, baby.”

He patted your thigh twice before letting up, giving you a chance to finally uncurl from his lap. 

You made quick, hasty steps to your room, hopping back into the cocoon of blankets you had left just a few minutes earlier. Rick’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, the slow trudge of an early morning dragging his feet.

When he walked through the doorway, he paused for a moment, leaning his weight on the frame with an arm lazily wrapped behind his head. The white tee hugged his arms just right in that position, the muscle pulling the fabric tight around his bicep. His sweatpants had slightly come loose from all the friction, leaving the band of his boxers temptingly peeking out. Above the plaid was a trail of thick, dark hair around his navel that poked out beneath the shirt.

And those glasses.

They were a small pair of readers—the kind you spin through on those racks at the pharmacy—a thick, black plastic lining the lenses. He must have long lost the case and cleaning rag because it was spotted with fingerprints and the earpieces were wobbly and hanging loosely at the sides.

Propping yourself up onto your elbows, you shamelessly took in the view. You had seen it hundreds of times before—sleepily stalking around the kitchen, fresh out the shower, or even curled up beside you on the couch—it never stopped being as memorable as the first. Your eyes were hungry, devouring every piece of him with just your gaze. 

His movements were slow, intentional—an overwhelming need to devour you combined with a restraint to savour this moment. Walking up to the foot of the bed, he brought your legs on either side of him, dragging you down the duvet. Your bodies were flush, the fabric of your t-shirt bunched up around the sides, leaving Rick a showcase of the thin, baby pink underwear snug on your hips.

He tugged the waistband, letting it snap back against your skin. “Darlin’...” he sighed, almost astonished while he peered down at the wetness soaking his thumb through the fabric. “No wonder you couldn’t sleep.”

Gently, he brought your legs—one at a time—over each of his shoulders. His hands were locked around your ankles, smoothing circles onto the skin. 

“Been so busy workin’ I’ve forgotten ‘bout my girl.” 

Your back arched, mewling at his words and the way his warmth spread through your skin.

“I haven’t seen you all week,” you whined. 

Your cheeks flushed at your tone, coming off more desperate than you had wanted. It was what you were though—desperate—with how much your body was writhing to get closer to him. 

“Let me make it up t’ya, yeah?” He looked down at you, planting firm, wet kisses along your calf. 

Nodding, you looked up at him with curious eyes. He continued his trail, dragging his lips further down your leg. Nipping gently at your ankle, he had you squirming beneath him, giggling at his touch.

“S-stop,” you laughed, weakly pushing him away with your other foot. “That tickles!”

He just grunted, continuing his way down, planting his hands firmly on your hips to keep you still. His tongue jutted out from between his lips, giving a few curious swirls along your heel before lapping a long stripe along the sole of your foot. 

You wriggled at the unfamiliar feeling, but Rick’s hands kept steady.

Lips greedily claiming every part of your skin, he kissed each of your toes, popping one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit. His eyes were shut, his mouth blindly leading him and his endless want for you. Deep groans left his lips as his hips twitched against the mattress, chasing some sort of release.

It made your stomach tighten watching him so deeply enraptured with every part of you. With each part his fingers grazed or his lips kissed, you felt a low hum of satisfaction rumble in his chest.

Leaning his head back, his lips were a deeper shade, kiss-swollen, and spit slicked. His eyes were wide, those glasses just barely hanging on the bridge of his nose and he kept brushing the frames with the side of your calf.

He lowered onto his knees, steadily balancing himself as his knees crackled. You watched him between your legs, sharing a warm, silent smile between the two of you.

His movements were practiced, an unspoken conversation between you and his fingers. They started slowly, creeping over the waistband of your underwear. Stilling slightly, he gave you a moment to back out—as if you ever would—flicking his eyes up to yours in confirmation.

Lips parted, you gave him an eager nod. 

“Lie back, baby,” he mumbled into your thighs. “Jus’ relax.”

You don’t know how he expected you to relax—let alone fall asleep—when he was between your legs like this, looking more irresistible than ever. His cheek was squished against your leg, glasses falling lopsided against his face. He reached up to grab the frames, just barely pulling them over his ears before you reached up, your small hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No-” You bit your lip nervously, pushing the glasses back onto his face. “Keep them on.”

Rick paused for a moment, looking up at you with a blank stare. He scrunched his nose, awkwardly adjusting the frames until they were balanced again. A toothy grin spread across his face, a belly laugh shaking his shoulders and your legs that rested upon them.

“Y’really like them that much? These things’r prolly older than you.” 

He was still laughing while he trailed kisses along your thighs. You nodded sheepishly, letting your hair fall in front of your face. 

“Wasn’t lying,” you giggled. “They look good on you– keep ‘em on.”

He hummed, trailing closer to your core, breath carelessly fanning across your heat like he wasn’t making you squirm.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And just like that he was gone.

Eyes glazed over, he was all teeth, sinking into your hips and pulling down your underwear. He pried it from around your ankles, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking deep inhale like it was his last breath. You could see the splotch of wetness from before, a deep wet patch soaked into the fabric. Rick held it against his lips and you watched the wetness grow as his tongue lapped up the juices.

“Y’taste s’good, baby,” he was almost slurring, so lost in the moment. “Don’ wanna waste it.”

You whimpered, hips twitching towards him, yearning for the affection he was giving to your underwear.

When he had enough, he tossed it to the side, licking his lips as he looked over his real meal. Putting his hands on either side of your thighs, he pulled you even closer, taking in your scent again like it was better straight from the source.

Sometimes he would tease, leaving little kitten licks along your clit just to hear the pretty sounds you’d make. He loved to make your pleasure last as long as possible despite your complaints. He’d have you shaking beneath him, crying for an orgasm until he finally let you go, all that built up frustration washing over you with a mind numbing relief.

This time though, he couldn’t stop himself from diving right in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this, since he’d heard those breathy gasps he loved so much. 

Arms hooked around your thighs, he dragged you closer to the edge of the bed and his breath was fanning right over your core. He gave a few sloppy kisses, lapping up your juices with his tongue just to watch you squirm.

Your mind was fuzzy, letting you ride a gentle wave of ecstasy while Rick worked his way between your thighs. He was starved, taking up anything you gave him while deep, vibrating groans left his lips. It was all so filthy—the smack of his lips against your skin, the way his beard glistened with slick, and how his glasses started to slightly fog around the edges.

It was clear he wasn’t used to the frames, especially in this situation. They kept sliding down his nose and in the midst of his concentration, he would knock his cheek frantically against your thigh, desperately trying to get back to your weeping pussy.

You were practically clenching around nothing now, watching the way Rick readjusted his glasses when he’d come up for air. He was panting, licking his lips with fervor, while he found enough breath to dive back in. His gaze met yours for a moment, eyes burning with a blazing persistence that told you he didn’t even know the effect he had on you right now.

Lopsided smile, glasses knocked crooked on his nose, Rick Grimes was the epitome of perfection.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he chuckled playfully.

His teeth dug deep into his bottom lip, looking up at you almost bashfully. He kept fiddling with the edges of his glasses, constantly readjusting the frames on his face like it was an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“Can you even see?” you giggled, reaching between your legs to wipe at the foggy lenses.

He nodded, leaning into your touch. “Better than ever actually.” 

His eyes flickered for a moment, like an idea had just struck, and he lifted himself off his knees, groaning a little as they popped. Motioning his chin to the headboard, he started to crawl on the bed, nudging his frames against your knee.

Obediently, you scrambled back against the headboard, letting Rick cage you in. His eyes didn’t focus on anywhere specific, just trailing over you like it was the first time all over again. He was in awe, seeing the body he worshipped, but clearer than ever before.

He wasn’t going to waste a moment of this.

“Sit up.” His words were gentle, but firm. “Wanna see all of you.”

Your back slid against the headboard, the wood cool against your skin. Rick was between your legs, still pecking kisses at any skin he could find. He slithered his hands back to your thighs, peeling them apart with a shaky breath.

“Got the best seat in the house, darlin’.” He clicked his teeth, leaving a few kisses on your knees while he took in the view. “Can’t believe all this s’for me.”

You whined, arching you back until you were just inches away from his lips. He gave you a teasing smirk, giving your thighs a few more gentle nips before he latched back onto your clit. 

It was a jolt of pleasure that kept coming in tidal waves. He didn’t stop. Wouldn’t let up despite you thrashing beneath him. His tongue moved in lazy circles, pressing flat against your clit so he could make room to slide a finger to your entrance. Barely grazing your walls, he pressed the tip of his finger, quickly retreating and watching the frustration build before he plunged it deep, curling it with each stroke.

“Rick-” you stuttered, bucking your hips. “Please-”

Rick’s fingertips dug deep into the plushness of your thighs, a silent promise of ‘I’ve got ya’, as he picked up the pace. His tongue flicked upwards, testing the waters and when you responded with a high-pitched moan, he did it again. He added another finger, matching the pace of his tongue that had you squirming in the sheets.

“Fuck!”

Your thighs clamped around his head and you felt the unfamiliar press of his glasses into your skin. It felt like they were gonna snap under the pressure, but when you tried to let up, Rick clamped his hands over your legs, keeping him trapped between your thighs.

You could still hear him, muffled through the skin, slurping and licking up everything you gave him. Even now, with your thighs trembling, he kept up his speed. His tongue swirled figure eights haphazardly between your folds, focusing solely on your clit once he felt you tightening up. 

“I can feel it, baby.” His words were gentle, encouraging, like he was proud of you. “Let go f’me.”

Without him having to say a word, you could feel his praise in the way he eagerly carried you through your orgasm. His tongue didn’t stop, dipping inside your entrance, around your folds, and even travelling to your thighs to lap up your juices like it was the fountain of youth. He hummed against you and your body buzzed with overstimulation.

“S’too much,” you mewled, pressing further into the headboard.

“One more,” Rick begged from between your thighs, not even giving you a moment to breathe. “I know y’can do it.”

You shook your head, frantically trying to pull away as he latched back onto your clit. Your mouth fell open, a strained squeak coming out instead of your intended protest.

“Rickkkk-” 

His name dragged off your tongue, long and drawn out. 

Peering to the edge of the bed, his glasses had fogged up again and were sliding off his nose. He didn’t seem to care though, even more determined this time, nursing your clit without even coming up to breathe.

His eyebrows were knotted and deep wrinkles lined his forehead. You could see his hips shamelessly rutting against the mattress each time a broken moan fell off his lips and vibrated through your core.

You were stuttering out pleas now, strings of babbled cries about how it was all just too much. Your legs tightened around him, almost begging for him to ease up and give you a moment to catch your breath. You were stumbling down from your first orgasm and he already had you barreling straight into another.

His beard scratched your skin as he worked, frantically dancing around your thighs. He was everywhere all at once and your body felt like a bolt of electricity sizzling through the sky.

“Gonna sleep so good,” he hummed, pressing the tips of two of his fingers to your swollen entrance. 

Sliding his digits through your slick, he scissored them in and out, letting a vulgar symphony of sounds echo the room. 

He knew you were close, could feel it in the way you clenched around him. When he felt you start to shake and that violent grip your thighs had on him got stronger, he quickly pulled his fingers away, hungrily taking in your second climax.

This time he was more gentle as you came down from the high. His hands smoothed over your skin, unhooking your knees from around his shoulders. He pressed kisses in a wet trail up your stomach until he found your lips.

“You doin’ alright, darlin’?” He was out of breath, chest still heaving while his arms shakily held him above you. 

Eyes glazed over, you looked up at him sleepily. It felt like you were filled with air, floating on a cloud. Completely blissed out, you could barely come up with an answer for him, just nodded and let out a soft whine.

He laughed. 

“Told ya I’d help you fall back asleep.” With a hushed whisper, he leaned down to brush the hair from your face, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Squirming, you tried to grab him, but your arms were too tired to reach. 

“Come back,” you mumbled sleepily.

A short breath of air huffed out his nose while he adjusted his sweatpants. 

“I will– promise.” He took the frames from his face and carefully adjusted them over your ears. “I’m leavin’ these here so you’ll let me focus. Should only take me an hour, darlin’, ‘n I’m all yours.”

Scrunching your nose, you tried to adjust to the new weight on your face.

“Don’ think I–”

Yawn.

“Don’ think I forgot ‘bout the pancakes.”

Your words were all melded together, barely comprehensible. When he heard the word ‘pancakes’ though, he immediately knew what you meant.

“Hot ‘n ready when you wake up.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Jus’ get some sleep for now, yeah?”

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @death-in-a-tar0t-card @skankhvnt42 @riverz-pawz @1unaang3l @thee-fantastic-mrfox @spookysights-blog @snooziesuzie @kitty-grimes (message me to be added or removed)

[tinytownn]

moonshine crimes –

rick grimes x f!reader

word count: 14.6k

summary: based on this request...

content: 18+ [SMUT WARNING!!!], technically cheating (lori's chill w it tho), pet names like doll and darlin', car sexxxx, lotsss of yearning/very slow burn, alcohol consumption (don't drink and drive yall), implied age gap, protective daryl !!

a/n: hopefully this makes up for no joel fic this week lolol,,,this got a little outta hand. thank you for @kitty-grimes for beta reading this and getting me obsessed w/ rick even more than i alr was lmaoooo

leave all requests here…

A cool breeze bit through the summer heat, nipping at your arms. The sun was relentless. Sweat dripped down your forehead, your neck, arms—anywhere the sun could reach its rays. 

Some of the group had gone out for supplies. Only a few of you were left to guard the camp now, promises of food, water, and medicine kept you hopeful while you drowned in the humidity. Sifting through the heat, you hoped Glenn remembered your request for sunscreen—your shoulders already began to peel and blister—a near hyperthermic sluggishness to your movements.

Even if he didn’t, as long as everyone came back safe, you would’ve been content with whatever they brought home.

Home. 

It was funny you thought of it like that.

With the people you stayed around, there never was just one place to call home. Shane, the group’s self-proclaimed leader, kept the team wandering, always on the move. It was the only way of survival now, but it never stopped feeling like you lost a piece of yourself at each stop. The days blurred together, exhaustion wore thin as supplies dwindled and the trek just kept getting longer.

When the end of the world had struck, your mind went blank. Nothing had ever prepared you for this moment, there was no rulebook to follow. If you couldn’t figure this out on your own, there was only one thing you knew you could do: Find a group.

Stuck in piled up traffic along the highway, you became friends with the nearby drivers, striking up conversation when things started to sound more serious than just a car wreck. Carol and Lori were the first two by your side, idly chatting about what could’ve caused this traffic. Then, when things got more serious—drivers started attacking each other, gunshots in the distance—you all agreed to stick together. 

Shane came along with Lori, practically inseparable with how protective he was of her and Carl. He was possessive, not only when it came to his family, but the group as well. Although no one outright said it, Shane was what you all needed to get through this. It always felt like he knew more than he gave off though—that he had secrets he’d never let go—but he was Lori’s husband and you didn’t want to overstep.

Or at least you thought he was.

A few weeks into forming a real group—one supported by vehicles, supplies, and a real chance at survival—Lori had mentioned her actual husband.

“He was a real good father– husband too.” She turned her head to look around then, “Always looked out for me and Carl. I’m sure he would know what to do right now…”

The confession had taken you by surprise. It was one of the few times you had truly been alone with Lori—no Carl, Shane, or Carol listening in. It was a brief encounter, one entirely by chance, but it stuck with you for a while.

You had gone out in the middle of the night for a breath of fresh air. It was a full moon that night and you hoped the clouds parted just enough to let you catch a glimpse. When you peeked through the opening of your tent though, you saw a figure, hunched over and quivering over the smothered campfire.

Pulling a knife from the back pocket of your jeans, you planted quiet, careful steps towards the logs. Blade held at your side, nervously anticipating your next move, you quickly realized that this wasn’t a walker, nor was it a raider—it was Lori, crying in the dark.

That night you got closer to Lori than you had ever been with anyone since the outbreak. She wept to you about her late husband, how he was in a coma when the world turned to shit. How Shane—her saviour—went back for him, but was too late.

You couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through—the pain she had to mask for the sake of her son. She had clearly leaned heavily on Shane, even before everything, he was her rock. The two were so close that you thought they had been together for far longer than this. They just seemed so in love.

From then on, you watched the dynamic closely. How Carl slowly attached himself to Shane and how Lori lovingly watched from afar. Even in the mess of everything, they still managed to pick back up the pieces of their shattered family. It was something you admired, how she could look past her grief to make a better life for her son—for herself.

That hot, summer day was no different. 

Most of the group idled around, waiting for the results of the supply run as if it were any other day. Carl and Shane were out by the lake, catching fish. Lori and Carol bathed in the shade, hunched over the wash bin. Dale was taking watch up on the RV, looking for the rest of the group who was supposed to be back long before now.

“Merle said he was gon’ be back here before sunset ‘n by the looks of it, the sun is fuckin’ settin’.”

Daryl was growing restless now, driving the rest of the group mad while his brother was out on a run. He was pacing back and forth in front of you, his hand clawing at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair.

“You know what can happen on these runs,” you said, leaned back against the RV, your arms crossed. “They probably just had to take another way home. Glenn’s good with directions, I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

To be honest, you weren’t sure of anything, but if it got the younger Dixon to stop pestering you, then a little white lie couldn't hurt.

“Y’ain’t sure of shit!” He yelled, throwing a punch at the old, rusted metal of the motorhome.

“Don’t dent my RV!” Dale shouted from above. “I better not see a scratch on her when I get down there!”

Rolling his eyes, Daryl took a few steps back to get a good look at the man posted on the roof. Laid back in his lawn chair, Dale had a gun sprawled in his lap, binoculars pointed right down at you two.

“This old thing? S’got more scratches than I can count.”

“How many is that—ten?” you quipped, a sly smile creeping on your face.

Daryl sneered, his footsteps clouding up dust until he was right in your face. “I ain’t messin’ ‘round right now, little princess.” He spat, so close you could smell his breath. “You’re sittin’ around while my brother s’out there takin’ care of the useless group y’all sent out with him.”

“Useless?” Standing up now, you shoved Daryl’s chest, sending him stumbling back a couple feet. “You should be grateful we even took your-”

“Quit arguing, you two!” Dale hissed. “I see a truck coming up the hill.”

Grumbling, Daryl pulled his bow from around his shoulders, getting himself into a good position. 

“You better hope this s’my brother.”

Shoving him further behind the RV, you pulled out your gun. “Or what, Daryl?”

The soft gnashing of gravel grew closer, a faint scent of gasoline filling your senses. Through the clearing, you could see a box van coming up the mountain. It looked harmless so far, no raiders peeking out the windows with guns, waiting to rob your camp. Pulling to a stop just shy of the RV, you could see through the windshield—it was Glenn in the driver's seat.

A crowd started to form as the other members of the groups noticed the arrival. Everyone was cautious when the stranger tumbled out of the truck, people were almost worse than walkers nowadays.

Shane was quick to make his way to the front, especially when he noticed the familiar face next to Glenn. He looked astonished, pale almost, at the sight of the officer.

“Rick?”

Whipping your head back, Lori clutched onto her son, quivering in fear like she was seeing a ghost. To her, she really was. You had only heard that name once from Lori’s lips—that night you comforted her outside of the camp—it was the name of her supposedly deceased husband. But here he was, alive and breathing, spinning Carl around in his arms.

===

Rick had become an integral part of the group, almost succeeding Shane in his leadership position. Things were taking a turn for the better, having two strong minds working together instead of Shane’s impulsive drive leading the group to disaster.

Although Carl was grateful to have his father back, things between him and Shane didn’t falter. Things with Lori, however, took a drastic turn. Like night and day, her feelings for Shane seemed to fade. 

Following her husband into the tent that first night, she never looked back, but you could tell the pain it caused her—the agony it caused Shane.

Unknowingly, you became trapped in the triangle too.

Never would you have done it on purpose, but the longer Rick weaved his way into the group, the more your feelings grew for him. It started off slight, his looks catching you off guard the moment you saw him. He was attractive, a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind about any man since the world went to shit. 

But the moment you realized he wasn’t yours for the taking—and never would be—you rid that thought from your mind.

Then you saw Lori with Shane again.

They seemed to be arguing at first, Lori’s hands up in the air until they curled into his hair, tugging at the roots. Then, Shane pulled her in by the waist, slamming his lips onto hers. For a moment, she went stiff, debating the consequences of her actions until she went limp, falling into his touch.

You stopped looking after that. Anything more and it would have felt like an obligation to tell Rick though you had barely known him. He just looked so happy to find his family again—god knows how long he was searching, the things he had done to get here.

From that moment on, you began to unknowingly attach yourself to the man. Whether it was pity, some sort of guilt, or a hidden attraction—you’d never know—but something had you and the officer tied to the hip. You tagged behind him on supply runs and perimeter checks, helped out with chores—basically became his second shadow.

He obviously took notice, so did the others in the group, but just like with Shane and Lori, they kept their lips sealed. Everyone knew better than to press, had more important things to focus on than a messy love triangle. It’d all blow over eventually.

You found yourself with Rick and Daryl, doing a perimeter check of the farm. The entire group was still very wary of the new location, but with a working agreement between Hershel and Rick, tensions seemed to be lessening.

“Ya keep walkin’ so close t’tha fence ‘n yer gon’ get zapped.” Daryl said teasingly, his boots dragging in the dirt.

“Maybe I’ll take you down with me,” you quipped.

Things between you and Daryl wouldn’t seem to have changed just listening in, but the way you spoke to each other now was softer—more joking rather than harsh jabs. It took a while, and a lot of convincing from Carol, but you finally came around to him.

Rick chuckled, shaking his head as he marked another weak spot onto his map.

“If Carl ever had a sister,” Rick turned his head to look at you, “I imagine this s’exactly what it’d be like, you two argue like children.”

“Yet you still bring us with you.” Scrunching your nose, you took the map from Rick’s hands. “Maybe if you gave us something interesting to do we wouldn’t have time to argue.”

“Alright then,” Rick took a moment before speaking, like he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Come with me on a run tomorrow. Goin’ to check out the next town over. S’that interestin’ enough for ya?”

You expected Daryl to chime in, complain about how he wasn’t invited or how he ‘didn’t even wanna come anyway.’ That never came though and the three of you just sat in a passing silence. The two men shared some sort of knowing glance, awaiting your response.

“Yeah.” Shrugging, you looked back at Daryl. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. Are you not coming, Daryl?”

He opened his mouth to say something, eyes nervously flicking to Rick before he stuttered out, “N-nah, I’m busy t’morrow.”

“Busy, got it.” You laughed, unconvinced. “Sounds fun.”

The rest of the search fell in a deep silence that you couldn’t seem to wade out of. Drowning in the tension, you waited for it to flood over and find a moment to breathe before you thought too hard about it.

Both men were painfully silent, sharing secret glances like they were having a whole conversation with just their eyes. It made you feel small, suddenly self-conscious around these people you had spent every day around.

When you got back to camp, you were quick to part from them, ready to shed the uncomfortability that grew on your skin. Before you could get back to your tent though, a familiar voice called out your name.

“Tomorrow morning, remember?” Rick called out from across camp. 

A few heads turned at the interaction, including an inquisitive Lori whose eyes flicked between the two of you, and the moment felt unnecessarily vulnerable—like this was something you were caught doing.

Nodding your head, you flashed a thumbs up before dipping into your tent for the rest of the night.

You didn’t know why things felt so tense all of the sudden. You and Rick had never been alone like this before. Daryl or Glenn typically tagged along, keeping you company as you babbled along, allowing Rick to complete the task at hand. It was always through the playful banter of your groupmates that you spoke to Rick—just teasing jokes and mindless chatter about the weather.

Everyone in the camp—except you—noticed the way you looked at Rick. How each time he turned a corner, a smile appeared on your face and your back would straighten just to get that much closer to him. It was all subtle, just your body trying to get your brain to catch up on how badly you had fallen for the man. That idea was strictly forbidden though—not even something that crossed your mind in the slightest. He was Lori's husband.

Though, you had noticed them sleeping in separate tents lately. During the day, they played up the role of a happy couple, but at night they were nowhere near each other, and occasionally, you’d hear Lori slip off with Shane deep into the night.

You liked to think that Rick could see through them. That he was smarter than his heart would let him and realize what was going on between his wife and best friend. If he did know, he did a damn good job at pretending not to care.

Unbeknownst to you, Rick did know—and he didn’t care. 

Blindly enamoured with his wife, Rick did anything in his power to find his family when he first woke up in that hospital. Stumbling upon this group was unknowingly the worst thing to ever happen to him as the weeks unfolded. A prickling feeling that something was just out of reach followed him everywhere. Some deep sense of dread followed him for days until he finally saw it.

Shane and Lori—his best friend and his wife—holding hands beneath a tree, having some sort of serious conversation. He wanted to wait and watch, find some more incriminating evidence than just hand holding, but he felt sick to his stomach at just the thought. Resentment was quick to grow towards the both of them, a rekindling of feelings inadvertently growing towards someone else.

In his time at the camp, Rick found himself gravitating towards you. Unlike the others, you didn’t seem to get caught up in all the fighting, choosing to keep close to Daryl and Carol. You were always a fresh breeze after a long day of putting up a front with Lori, saving face for Carl’s sake, and secretly wishing he was with you the entire time.

A large part of him felt guilty for his feelings. He tried his best to push them away and ignore them until he just couldn’t anymore. That was when he started assigning you to the same tasks as him, but always with another person to accompany you. It just didn’t feel right to him, the way he wanted to look at you, the things he wanted to say—to confess.

It was all too much for him that he’d bring Daryl along almost as a chaperone. He wasn’t too scared to talk to you—like Rick was—and could coax an easy laugh from your lips. The sound was heavenly to him, bathing in your voice as he walked around doing different chores, the time flew by with you chatting behind him.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of your relationship with Daryl. The two of you had gotten close so quickly after being sworn enemies that he wished he could make conversation just as easy.

 Of course he talked to you—always so interested in what he had to say—but that was the problem. You’d look up at him with those eyes, arms across your chest and your head tilted with a soft pout. He just couldn’t keep himself together when you looked at him like that.

And he knew it was wrong. He was married—still had the ring around his finger to prove it. So why did he invite you on a run tomorrow?

When Daryl pulled him aside after he had called out for you at camp, he still couldn’t answer that question.

“The hell y’doin’?” He said roughly, dragging Rick away from the crowd—away from the timorous eyes of Lori. “Thought we weren’t doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what?” Rick said dumbly.

His eyes flicked back over to his wife for a moment and a feeling of guilt panged his chest.

“You know exactly what—you’re married.” Daryl was seething, words barely audible with how he gritted his teeth. 

He was never one to press someone's morals, but this was Rick, the one person he knew to be noble and loyal. Without Rick to stand behind, he would have no one—the group would have no one—it’d only be a matter of time for things to crumble if he didn’t keep his head straight on his shoulders.

“We’re goin’ out for a run.” Rick crossed his arms, ready to walk away from the conversation. “S’not like we’re gettin’ eloped.”

“Bet you’d love that.”

“Well the plan’s already been made, so there’s no goin’ back.” Fumbling out a poor excuse, Rick stalked back towards the camp, catching a brief glimpse of Lori’s face before heading into his tent.

It was hard to gauge what she thought, nothing in her gaze besides a silent, defeated observation. Some part of Rick told himself that she deserved it after lying to him for so long, but another part of him—the part he liked to think was the real him—was disgusted he could brush off his wife’s emotions so easily. 

Rick tossed and turned through the night. When the sun finally rose, he wasted no time unzipping his tent. Though his lids were still heavy, his body exhausted, a rapid, thrumming heartbeat thrashed in his chest.

He really did need to go on this run, but was it too late to just go by himself? Maybe you’d wake up, grateful he had gone and left you the day to relax. 

The longer he stalled, the more he was starting to think Daryl was right.

He was married. So what was he doing going out alone with the only woman who made his heart race and his cheeks flush—a woman who wasn’t his wife.

Biting the skin on his fingers, Rick tore his knuckles raw, the skin puffy and bleeding. He was so caught up in his own mind, that he didn’t notice you had already woken up.

“You ready?” Beaming up at him with a warm mug in your hands, your breath frosted a little in the chill morning air.

It was barely light outside, no sight of the sun peeked above the horizon just yet. The rest of the group were tucked away in their tents, chasing warmth in their sleeping bags. That left just you and Rick alone in the middle of camp.

Suddenly his mouth felt dry, his throat closing in on itself.

Just one offhanded comment about going for a run and you were up bright and early with a smile on your face just for him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it—how happy you seemed to be here with him. There were none of those fake eye rolls or witty jokes you threw at Daryl. This was a side of you he rarely saw, a slightly less bubbly, but softer side. He felt special getting to see you like this, wanted to reserve this view for himself and no one else.

A quiet yawn left your lips and curled into a lazy grin. Tiredly, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, looking to Rick for the next direction.

His lips parted, tongue jutting out to wet them—anything to get another moment of you like this. “Yeah, truck’s all warmed up. You got everythin’?”

“Mhmm,” Motioning to the bag slung over your shoulder, you nodded sleepily. “Gun, knife, water, and some food. I even brought a surprise in case the ride gets too boring.”

Rick couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face. “A surprise, huh? Might have to drive extra slow then.”

Starting towards the truck, the engine rumbled gently, the lights flicked off to not wake the rest of the camp. It was nice just being able to talk with Rick for once. Your time together always felt sort of disconnected, or maybe it was just the boundary you had put up for yourself to not get too attached.

Rick's arm reached around you, pulling open the passenger door. His fingertips ever so slightly grazed your back, guiding you in the cab, stalling for a moment too long before shutting the door.

While he rounded the truck, the pieces of the puzzle—the one you had been trying to fit together ever since he invited you out here—started to fall into place. 

You couldn’t sit still. Now that he had touched your skin, it felt like you were on fire. Since you met, you had always thought your feelings towards Rick were purely physical. That the presence of a man this attractive was uncommon nowadays and the way your mind wandered was just a product of that.

The guilt seeped in, making you want to hop out of the truck and crawl back in your tent like none of this had ever happened. The way he spoke to you—his words finally meant for just you, his eyes focused on yours—made your body electric, practically buzzing in your seat. 

This was no small crush like you had thought. Over these past few months, you were falling in love with Rick Grimes—the husband of one of your closest friends.

You had thought it was just a coincidence that you and Lori had grown apart when Rick arrived. Figured she was preoccupied with the shock and patching things up with Shane. But maybe, just maybe, she saw what you couldn't see. 

Maybe Lori saw the way you looked at Rick like he hung the moon. The way you followed him around like a dog, obedient to his every word. What really had Lori’s eyes following you two that day though, was the way Rick looked. She knew that look anywhere because it was the same look he used to give to her.

That sappy, lovesick look that used to be solely reserved for her was now directed towards another woman—and Lori couldn't help but feel relieved? She was at a crossroads, having to take her place beside her husband, knowing her heart truly resided with Shane. It was a choice she didn’t want to admit was difficult to make, but seeing that maybe her husband felt the same gave her some hope.

Rick hadn’t lied when he said the ride would be slow. It started out with him telling you to get some rest and to ‘save up some of that energy for the interesting part.’ Little did you know, he just wanted to get a good look at you, up close, without anyone else watching, and not be too nervous to look you in the eye.

When you had finally dozed off, he brushed the loose hair from your face, watching the way your lips pouted out and the soft snores that left them. He drove extra slow as promised, but not for anything other than to make sure you didn’t wake up. Avoiding any potholes or branches in the road, he opted for the smoothest route possible.

He never would’ve admitted it to his face, but Daryl was right. The longer he was alone with you, the more his mind spiraled. Guilt was eating him alive even though he hadn’t done anything. The simple fact that he felt something was enough to crush him. The weight of his feelings were enough to drag him into a pit for the rest of the drive until you woke up.

Groaning, you squinted your eyes to adjust to the sun now peeking in through the glass. The truck seat was more comfortable than any place you had slept in months and the rhythmic rumbling of the tires was enough to lull you to sleep. A yawn escaped your lips, absentmindedly flipping in your spot until your gaze fell on Rick in the driver’s seat.

“Good mornin’, sunshine,” he rasped, eyes focused on the road.

“Shit,” you cursed, sitting up in your seat. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long. We almost there?”

“Told ya to get some rest, y’know I don’t mind.” Rick said, flashing you a smile. “Town should be right up ahead—right on schedule.”

Abandoned cars littered the roads and Rick tried his best to maneuver around them, but when he got to a certain cluster, there was no way out. You didn’t say anything, wanting to let him concentrate. A frustrated grumble left his lips, head peeking over his shoulder as he started to reverse.

“M’leavin’ the car here, there’s no way ‘round.” Slamming his palm onto the wheel, he set the truck into park. “I can see buildings right through the clearing. It should be close enough to bring stuff back.”

Nodding, you followed Rick’s lead. The sun was up now, just barely peeking through the clouds to pick up the morning dew that tickled your ankles. You both walked a few feet from each other, eyes focused on the couple of buildings ahead.

The walk was quieter than you had expected. You wanted to throw in some joke, one of those witty remarks that always came so easy when Daryl was around. Things felt so fragile now that you were alone, like all the things simmering just below the surface were starting to rise and the both of you could feel it bubbling over.

“I’ve been uh.” You stared at the ground, kicking a stone ahead of you and repeating the process all over again a couple feet ahead. “I’ve been talking to the Greenes a little more since we got here. They’re really nice people, especially Maggie—looks like her and Gleen have been hitting it off too.”

That last part made the both of you chuckle, the entire group letting Glenn awkwardly shuffle his way over to Maggie each day, trying to make a good impression. It was a noble attempt and Maggie seemed just as into him to relay the nervousness right back his way.

Rick laughed, running a hand over his jaw. “I remember bein’ like that—makes me miss bein’ young.” He said, his feelings more recent than he was admitting to.

In all honesty, Rick did miss being that young, nostalgic over the freedom he once had. Maybe if he was a little younger he wouldn’t feel the guilt that tore him apart each time he looked at you. If he was younger then maybe he would feel like he had a sliver of a chance with you. 

“You’re not that old,” you giggled.

“Thanks,” he laughed dryly. “Sounded real convincin’.” 

Rick looked over to you, not expecting you to be looking right back. He sucked in a sharp breath. Time felt frozen, like he was stuck here, body paralyzed by the force of you. 

“I mean it,” you said, a little more serious this time. “I know the world has gone to shit, but we have the whole world to make something of ourselves, to do whatever we want.”

He smiled to himself.

‘We’

The way you spoke like you were a unit, two pieces of the same puzzle. He knew you probably didn’t mean it that way, but his heart couldn’t help but hope that somewhere deep down you maybe felt the same.

When he didn’t answer, you took it upon yourself to fill the gap. “The world clearly favors you, Rick.” Your tone started off more lighthearted, but shifted into something more serious, weighing down the air just slightly. “After everything you still made it back to your family, your best friend, still alive. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but you’re handling it a hell of a lot better than the rest of us.”

“You’ve got to,” he words were rushed, intense, with a fierce gaze that locked your eyes. “The only way Carl stays strong is if I’m strong for him.”

You noticed how he only mentioned Carl. Trying not to think too deep into it, you glanced over to the town right ahead of you now. There were a few walkers that roamed the streets and with how rummaged through the entire town looked, the risks seemed to outweigh any possible benefits.

“Just don’t wear yourself out.” Turning back to Rick, you gave him one last small smile before pulling a weapon from your bag. “Let people help you every once in a while.”

“I brought you here with me, didn’t I?” 

That statement felt more charged than he probably meant it. A heat flushed your cheeks and you refocused back on the threat ahead of you.

“Let’s get in there then.”

The crowd ended up being more than you could handle. What just seemed like a few walkers aimlessly roaming in the streets ended up being a whole horde. Even just the sound of your knives and heavy panting drew a flood of undead from out the alleyways. They seemed to be coming from every direction, crawling out of abandoned cars, old buildings and shops. There was no escape, having to result in your guns, you hoped that some nearby group would hear and come to help. As unlikely as that was, it seemed even more unlikely that you both were making it out of here alive.

Pulling the trigger, the empty chamber rang out in the air. Panic filled your body and you reached into your empty pocket as a last resort.

“Rick!” you yelled out into the crowd.

No answer.

Ducking past a few reaching limbs, you weaved through the crowd trying to find Rick. Heartbeat thrumming in your ears, the monotonous groaning was drowned out and your vision blurred at the edges.

Everything was blurry the longer the adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was a strong, heavy, and unwelcoming feeling that made you disoriented and wobbly. You hadn’t realized you lost Rick, let alone where. Now that you were separated, you had no way into the truck, no way home, and no way out of here alive.

There were no more gunshots ringing out and the mass of walkers drowned out any sounds Rick could make to call out for you. It felt hopeless and for a moment you just wanted to accept that you would die here. Your feet couldn’t carry you for much longer and even if you could outrun the crowd, where were you to go after that?

Then, an arm curled around your waist, pulling you away from the store you were about to hide in and carried you back towards the crowd. You didn’t think, just acted as you tried to claw the fingers from around your hips. Thrashing, you fought the body dragging you closer to the danger, thinking you were surely done for.

“Quit it.” A voice, low and rough, hissed out. “It’s jus’ me. I’m gettin’ us the hell outta here.”

Your brain slowly started to catch up, allowing your feet to drop to the ground and run alongside Rick rather than have him drag you along. He blew through the crowd, using a combination of his knife and the barrel of his gun to strike down the crowd. Trying to help out where you could, you took down a few walkers, fishing through the back pocket of Rick’s denim when you saw the truck in the distance.

“Here!” Running up beside him, you made a quick exchange of the keys and his gun, slipping the weapon into your bag.

It felt like your lungs were on fire and your heart would just pop out of your chest if you didn’t stop, but it was too close to give up. Reaching the vehicle, you tossed open the door, throwing yourself inside before locking the door shut.

The two of you sat in a heavy silence, letting the fastest of the walkers bang on the glass while the rest staggered behind. Your chests heaved, slumped in your respective seats, trying to comprehend how this all went so terribly.

Then, as the crowd started to thicken, Rick put the truck in reverse, ignoring all the thumps beneath the tires. Leaving the road, he merged onto the empty highway, biting the skin on his fingers.

Never had a run turn so quickly on him and of course it happened to be the one time you were with him—the time he was supposed to keep you safe. The crowd has just appeared out of nowhere without any shot being fired, there was almost nothing you two could've done differently.

“M’sorry,” Rick whispered finally. “I should’ve never brought you out here. It was dangerous ‘n I shouldn't be puttin’ your life at risk like that.”

His voice was low and even, almost monotonous. He was clearly scolding himself. After everything with Carl, Rick had been a lot more harsh on himself—questioning whether he could lead this group like everyone thought he could—only to drag you straight into danger.

And for what—a moment alone with you?

Shaking your head, you propped your legs up on the dash. “Are you kidding me? I asked for something interesting and you delivered. I haven’t felt this alive in months.”

“Yeah?” Rick quirked a brow in your direction. “M’glad you had fun. I feel like I’m ‘boutta drop dead from a heart attack.”

You laughed. A real, belly laugh. One that Rick had always heard, but never been on the receiving end of—at least not as often as he’d liked to.

“Well,” a sly smirk curled your lips, arms digging in the bottom of your bag, “if that didn’t take too much out of you…” Pulling out a sealed mason jar from the pack, you held it next to your head. “Here’s that surprise I was talking about.”

Rick flicked his attention from the road for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Which would be…?”

“Some moonshine I stole from that bastard Merle after you left his sorry ass up on that roof.”

He cringed at the memory. 

As much as Daryl had claimed to have forgotten about it, the thought of leaving that man—as terrible as he was—up on that roof, haunted Rick almost every night. Though you clearly didn’t seem to mind, almost relieved the older Dixon was gone.

“And what’re we doin’ with that?” Laughing, he couldn’t believe the idea you were proposing—nevertheless with him. 

“Drinking it, duh.”

He had never seen you anything more than tipsily chatting with Daryl over the fire. Now here you were, proposing he get drunk with you. Not only did the idea seem dangerous, out here just a few miles away from a marauding horde of walkers, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself around you. He was a grown man, could surely control his body, but his mind was different—the things he might blurt out.

“C’mon,” you whined when he only bit his lip, staring out onto the road. “We have nothing but ourselves and this truck to look after. No one is expecting us until later tonight, might as well use up the day to its full potential.”

This was a bad idea. 

The temptation Rick felt told him how much he probably shouldn't have been doing this. If it were anyone else he’d immediately object, probably even confiscate the bottle, but this was you. Looking at him so eagerly, he couldn’t find it within himself to say no. He loved that yearning look in your eyes, the one that told him you really did want to be spending your time with him.

Wordlessly, he pulled the truck onto the side of the road.

“A few sips—but that’s all. I mean it.”

Already unscrewing the lid, you flicked it back at him, letting the metal hit his shoulder. Lifting the glass to your lips, your face soured, the smell immediately filling your senses. It was strong, pungent, and although it had been years since your last hangover, the feeling hit you like a truck.

“God,” you cringed, pulling your head back, “this smells awful. First sip is all yours.”

Shaking his head, Rick ushered the jar back towards you. “Ladies first. This was your idea after all.”

He seemed more relaxed than earlier. His shoulders were more slack, his body leaning into the cushions with the belt unstrapped from his shoulders now. There was a soft mechanic rustling as he pushed the seat further back, stretching his legs, watching you fuss over the drink.

Taking the first sip was brutal. It shocked your senses, bringing you upright in the seat, jolting you awake. It tasted awful, just what you expected from a handcrafted Dixon creation, but you couldn’t deny its effects. It surely did its job, immediately working its magic with the second sip. You could feel that slight tingle deep beneath your skin that was slowly giving you the confidence alcohol always seemed to.

“Here, five sips.” Shoving the glass into his hands, you dramatically scrunched your face, words garbled by the liquid. “Beat that.”

Raising a brow, Rick cautiously lifted the jar to his nose. “M’surprised you didn’t puke on the first sip—this smells like Daryl’s feet.”

Giggling, you curled your legs into the seat, leaning over the center console. “You know what Daryl’s feet smell like?”

Nodding, Rick gulped down a generous sip before handing back the glass. “Can’t miss it. He avoids showerin’ like the damn plague.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t come with us.”

Then, taking another sip from the jar, you could feel your mind numbing. The questions you had always wanted to ask, the things you always wanted to say, didn’t seem as daunting anymore.

“Why didn’t you invite him?” you asked suddenly.

The question caught Rick off guard, snatching the glass from your hands to stall his answer.

“Needed someone to watch the camp,” he breathed out, the remnants of the moonshine glistening his lips.

“You don’t trust Shane?”

Questions were coming in quick now, not giving him a moment to breathe. The glass kept getting passed between the two of you, mainly ushered by Rick each time he felt too overwhelmed by one of your questions or intense stares—anything to buy him just a moment.

He drew his lips tight, the skin paling slightly. “Shane’s always been…” Taking another sip he took a moment to control himself, or maybe find the courage to say what he truly felt. “Impulsive. Don’t know if I can trust him in an emergency.” Then his last words were hot on his tongue, spitting out fire with every syllable. “Not with my son there.”

Nodding, you curled into yourself, knowing you tugged a thread too loose, letting his emotions unravel. Rick had always been so levelheaded that this was foreign. Sure, he had a lot on his shoulders—the stress was always evident—you had never seen him this unguarded though. He was letting it all out now. Finally bringing you into the space he always bridged so far with his silence. Letting Daryl typically fill the gap, Rick was able to feel close to you for so long without having to actually let you in. Now that the alcohol was talking, his true feelings began to spill over the edge and there was no turning back now.

You kept your mouth shut. Your feelings about Shane had always been the same, and it was hard to gauge if your hatred stemmed from the same place. You knew the things Shane was doing outside of his role as the group’s leader. There was so much you wanted to tell Rick, but it didn’t feel like the time—it never did—just seemed like something that would unnecessarily crush him.

“I agree with you,” Was all you said, letting the cab simmer in whatever this was.

“You see it too, right?”

Your heart stopped, stuttering a few times to catch back up—Could he know?

His words were vague, but deep down you knew what he meant. Feigning ignorance, you pressed your lips thin, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“See what?”

Scoffing, he shook his head, fists rocking against the wheel. “Y’don’t think I notice the way everyone looks at me? Y’think I don’t know my best friend is fuckin’ my wife?”

The words came out so even, so calm, that it frightened you more than any outburst could've. It was like he had rehearsed this. Like the anger bubbled within him for so long he had replayed this conversation in his mind more times than he could count. Instead of confronting them though, he was with you—vulnerable, voice raw and shaking.

“I-’

You didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve convinced myself not to believe it for long enough.” About half the glass was gone now, still switching between the two of you. “I can’t ignore it like it’s not happenin’ right in front of my face.”

Jaw slack, you didn’t know how to react. You and Daryl had spent countless hours on the topic, weighing the options between you, ultimately deciding it was better for Rick—and the group—to keep this a secret. Knowing he was aware the entire time made you wonder how he could keep it together for so long.

“I’m sorry we never said anything- that I never said anything…” Drawing a blank, your mind clouded—fuzzy from the alcohol but also from how broken Rick looked in front of you.

His head was heavy, eyes focused on his lap so intently that you were waiting to see smoke from the hole he had burned through the seat. Never had he been this vulnerable with you. Things with Rick were always surface level, light hearted conversation that left you in a lovesick daze. Now, this was just as real as your feelings for him, and once again you just wanted to tuck it all away and let this hot feeling of awkward shame leave your shoulders.

“That ain’t your job, darlin’.”

The nickname slipped off his tongue smoothly and although he had never used such a term of endearment towards you, it almost felt natural leaving his lips. Still, you felt the heat of it on your cheeks, starting to spread lower as the alcohol took its hold.

Nodding, you bit the skin on your lips, debating how to diffuse this tension. 

You both looked out onto the empty road, letting the silence clear your minds. For the first time tonight, you wished it wasn’t just the two of you here. That Daryl or somebody was here to relieve the tension, chime in and save the day whenever your feelings for Rick had your head too clouded.

“Yeah, but I still mean it, I really am sorry,” you said anyway, deciding speaking what was on your mind was better than nothing at all. “It’s not right. You woke up in the hospital, came all the way back here, just for her to act like she’s the one making the difficult decisions? I don’t get how you’re not furious, how you can just pretend everything is fine-”

The alcohol had you rambling now, a slight slur in your words the faster you spoke, your hands flailing around.

“It’s because I’m not pretendin’, sweetheart.” 

He cut you off politely, a deep, gravelly chuckle leaving his lips. There was a subtle blush on his cheeks, the alcohol affecting him too. Surely not as much as you, but it did guide the truth out easier, letting him get closer to you than he ever thought he could.

“What?” you gawked, dumbfounded.

Shaking his head, he smiled softly. It wasn’t a genuine smile, just one of those placeholders that said something like ‘ya caught me’ or a sarcastic ‘surprise!’ 

“S’not worth stressin’ over.” Raking his hands through his hair, he tried to distract you from just how misty eyed he was getting. “Can’t change what’s happened ‘n I’ve got more important things to focus on.”

“Cheers to that,” you nodded, handing him back the jar, “but you can’t just ignore it forever, Rick. You don’t know what that would do to you.”

Though you desperately wanted to lift the mood, you couldn’t help but express your concerns for the man. You knew first-hand the toll it took looking on from the sidelines. When Rick first got here, you experienced it everyday, watching him go off with Lori while your feelings got stronger and stronger. Even now, with the alcohol coursing through your veins, you don’t think you could ever form the words to tell him. This felt like the perfect opportunity with him so disconnected from his wife—but would that make you just as deceitful at her?

“Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.” He leaned back in his seat now, seemingly more relaxed. Turning his head to you, he had a lazy smirk splayed on his lips, body caving into the exhaustion you both felt. “Been through a lot of heartbreak in this life. This surely ain’t the worst of ‘em.”

“Really?” Turning to him, fully intrigued, you leaned further over the console. “Thought you would’ve been the one breaking hearts,” you joked playfully.

Scoffing, Rick reminisced for a moment. “Then y’got the wrong image of me, darlin’. Wasn’t no athlete or anythin’ back then. Jus’ barely enough sense to get me outta highschool.”

“Sounds like you’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Glad to know ya think of me that way, doll.”

You both just stared at one another, the remnants of the past half hour swirling around both of your minds. It was strange for Rick to be this vulnerable, but with you it didn’t feel so bad. You wished you could’ve said more, found the words through the haziness of your mind and say something to truly heal the broken man in front of you. You just didn’t expect him to be so open with you. How much he didn’t care. It all caught you so off guard that anything you might’ve rehearsed in your head flew out the window.

His words were sharp talking about the situation, but any time he led back to you he always softened his words. Those nicknames kept tumbling off his lips like he couldn’t stop himself, like now that he got the first one out unquestioned, it was something he was addicted to.

“I really do,” you urged, trying not to let your feelings drive your words too much. “I think what you’ve done for the group is amazing. We never would’ve found somewhere like the farm without you.”

His tongue jetted out to wet his lips before he ran a steady hand over his jaw. "You're awfully sweet, darlin’, but you shouldn’t be thankin’ me after today.”

Scrunching your eyebrows, you lightly shoved his shoulder. “God, you’re such a drunk sap, Rick. You’re really still thinking about that? Shit happens, it could’ve been anybody-”

“But it was you.”

The words tumbled out faster than he could stop them, his eyes widened, heart frozen in place. He had just dug himself a hole, and by the look you gave him, there was no getting out.

Your lips were dry, stomach churning with bad moonshine and an unnerved tension. His words weren’t making sense, all this mindless babbling he’d done tonight, it just wasn’t Rick. That didn’t mean you hadn’t liked it though. His words were the closest thing you’d had to quelling that thought in your mind that maybe your feelings were reciprocated.

Breathlessly, you tried to repress your nervousness. “And I’m fine, Rick– barely even have a scratch on me.” You huffed out a sigh. He had been beating himself up over this all day when he should’ve just been grateful to be alive, and unharmed at that. “Just be in the moment for once. Enjoy being alive.”

The curls tossed atop his head, the back of his arm coming up to wipe the alcohol that dribbled from his lips.

“Can’t do that no more, sweetheart,” he sighed, taking a moment to lean back, really take a look within himself. Whatever he’d seen must’ve been too much because he reached for the lid, tightening the old rusty cap back on tight. “Got a whole group of people relyin’ on me to keep ‘em safe, can’t be wastin’ time livin’ in the moment. Even this…” he gestured to the jar, your empty bags, “I shouldn’t be doin’ this…”

His palms splayed wide, stretching his long fingers, nervously tapping them along the steering wheel. You watched them curl around the leather, the roughness of his hands audibly scratching against the threads. It sent a wave of heat through you, your legs crossed and the cab closed in tighter.

“It’s just one drink.” That was a little bit of an understatement. “It’ll be our secret– even Daryl won’t know.” That was the truth—no matter how difficult it was going to be keeping your mouth shut around the shaggy haired man.

It wasn’t the drinks Rick cared about, or the failed supply run. He was only worried about saying the wrong thing—ruining all of this. Nothing else mattered to him in this moment except you, but that confession was also the one thing that could ruin it all.

He fumbled with the ring on his left hand, the one he found himself wearing less and less now. He didn’t know why he chose to put it on that morning. Maybe he had expected this all along—the temptation he would feel—knew he would need some reminder of why he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, staring into his lap.

He had ruined it.

Rick had finally been able to talk to you alone, make you laugh, and he had gone and squashed the moment while drowning in his own self-reproach.

Then, it was slight, but fingertips crept up his bicep, wrapping around his shoulder. He looked to you to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. You gave him a soft, sympathetic smile. With nothing else to offer him but your presence, you fought through the shakiness of your hands and the haze of your vision.

You were definitely drunk now. It wasn't enough to set off any alarms by the time you got back to camp, but right now, kneading the warm, solid muscle of his arms was enough to tell him your mind was a little cloudy. 

Throughout the conversation, you had migrated closer and closer to Rick until you could almost feel his breath on your skin. He was hot to the touch, the tip of his nose and cheeks a bright shade of pink, and his messy mop of curls stuck to his forehead. Closing the gap, you could even feel it radiating off onto your skin.

Rick swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling your breath that crept up the side of his neck. You were swaying, leaning on your elbows across the center console—no longer interested in what you had been talking about, the weight of it seemingly gone from your mind. 

“I think…” Fingertips trailed his skin and you watched him shudder under your touch. “You should smile more…”

Your tone caught him off guard, more sultry and suggestive than you had been all night—than you had ever been. 

He shifted, not uncomfortably, but stiffly, weighing his options of how to move further. You were obviously drunk and your out-of-character behavior was definitely a product of that. As much as he wanted to convince himself you felt the same, that these were pent up feelings finally coming out within the heat of the moment, he knew it was wrong. 

“Sweetheart,” he shuddered, shutting his eyes as if he’d wake up from a dream. “I think we should get back to camp.”

Frowning, you jutted out your bottom lip, wet and slicked from the last of the moonshine. Your pupils were dilated, no longer flickering away from his gaze but holding it, strong and steady, tempting him closer.

“M’serious, Rick,” your words were more slurred, hands trailing lower. “Don’t like seeing you like this…thought I could cheer you up today.” Crackling in your throat, your voice got less and less confident and tears started to well in your eyes. “And I just made everything worse…”

His jaw went slack, your confession taking him by surprise. This whole time, you had been skating through this conversation just the same as him, treading on thin ice, too scared to make one wrong move. Now as the alcohol boldened your moves and softened your mind, it didn’t take long for the ice to break, dragging you beneath the surface.

“Oh darlin’,” he cooed, pulling you further into his chest, letting you grip onto his shoulders. “Such a sweet little thing…y’don’t have anythin’ to worry ‘bout.”

Your limbs were crumpled in the seat behind you, awkwardly twisted so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck. He could feel the hot, sticky tears that clung to his skin, the vulnerability that sunk in with each dig of your nails. 

“What’s got ya so worked up, doll?”

He was trying to be gentle and soft to not let you see how much his heart broke at the sight of you trembling in his lap. His hands roamed your back, tracing little shapes onto the skin from over your shirt, pinching the fabric between his fingers.

“I-It’s not fair,” you hiccuped.

Your drunken state had flown through all the stages so quickly: A bashful tipsyness that led into more thoughtful conversation, letting you both speak your truth until that unavoidable sappiness bled through the cracks and had you like putty in his hands.

“You work so hard.” Your voice was muffled in his neck, fingers desperately grabbing at the curls on the back of his neck. “Why do you let everyone run over you like that?”

This caught him even more off guard, the way you cared so earnestly. The way you sobbed into his neck like this had kept you up for nights, taking his problems just as personally as you own, had him reeling.

“Shhh…breathe, darlin’, breathe.” He smoothed a hand over your hair, shushing your sobs while you hiccupped into his skin. “Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. S’long as the group’s safe—as long as you’re safe—I don’t mind takin’ a few hits.”

You lifted your head, shaking it frantically, cupping Rick’s face into your hands. Squishing his cheeks in a little, he looked at you, face scrunched and lips pouted. 

“I just wanna see you happy again– like when you first got here.” Your back stiffened, trying to bite back the anger from your voice. “The way she talked about you…I-I don’t know how she could do that.”

Your words held a certain discretion to them, like even after all this you were too nervous to breach this topic. This was meant to be a good time. You had brought the moonshine in hopes of getting closer with Rick, letting the alcohol dull your senses until you were no longer too nervous to talk to him. 

Whenever you and Daryl drank, it was never like this. The two of you would have lighthearted conversation, maybe wander down to the lake and playfully splash water at one another. You didn’t realize with so much hanging on this moment, all the time you had spent stressing over making it perfect, that you’d crumble the second the liquid touched your lips. Alcohol clung to your insecurities, peeling back the layers until that was all you could see.

The apples of his cheeks pinched between your palms. He couldn’t help the laugh that rippled from his lips with the sight of you, so fixated on making everything right. Truly, things couldn’t have been more perfect for him within this moment. This was the closest you’d ever been and though you grabbed him with a force that made his face sore, he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

Hearts pounding in sync, neither of you understood the weight of this moment, both sharing the hot, cavernous shame that buried itself within—wedging its way between you.

The grief Rick felt over his crumbling marriage was complicated. At first it tore him from the seams, pulling each thread until he was left a scrap of fabric on the floor. Then you came along and Rick started to notice the effect your presence had on him. What started with mindless babbling on supply runs or perimeter checks, slowly, unknowingly, let you weave the pieces of him back together.

“Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout all that,” he cooed, tucking a sliver of hair behind your ear.

He wanted to say more. Wanted to tell you that he was that happy again—when you were around. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t care about his wife anymore not only because she had cheated, but because he had feelings for someone else—for you.

Instead, he only let himself say what the silver band on his ring finger allowed.

“Don’t go stressin’ over this old man’s problems, yeah?” Copying your movements, he carefully wiped the edges of your eyes, holding your face in his hands just gently enough he could excuse the action.

Leaning into this touch, you let your lashes flutter against his palm. Nodding against his skin, you breathed in his scent—the remnants of the alcohol on his lips and that deep, musky pull from the crook of his neck. 

Your small hands still held his arms, fingers creeping along his skin—feeling, tracing, memorizing—you felt him shudder beneath your touch. Readjusting his hips, Rick felt the denim on his legs getting more confined and he reached for his belt. Shifting the buckle, he tried to relieve the tension, but you just kept creeping closer.

He felt disgusting. Here you were, confiding in him, pouring your heart out to show you cared, and all he could think about was the blood rushing between his legs. His grip on you had tightened, palms greedily splayed on your waist, resisting every twitch to pull you onto his lap.

You didn’t say anything else, the moment felt busy enough with all the tension coming to a standstill. Though there were no words, the slow, lazy movements fused between each other were enough to speak for itself. Pure want filtered through every action and Rick found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

He saw you glance once, twice, at his lips. Jutting out his tongue, he slipped them beneath his teeth, maybe to dissipate the tension, or maybe to stop himself from giving in.

“Rick…?”

God, you were irresistible right now.

With spit-slicked lips and tear-puffed cheeks, you looked the closest to fucked out Rick had been able to see you outside of his imagination. 

He cleared his throat, grumbling out a soft string of curses. “Yeah, doll?”

Your eyes held a certain seriousness he hadn’t seen from you all night. He gave you his full attention, his heart beating fast with uncertainty. 

“M’sorry I got too drunk,” you slurred out sleepily, a gentle yawn leaving your lips.

Rick chuckled, shaking his head. He squeezed your cheeks between his palms and they almost disappeared with how his hands swallowed your face. 

You were so different now compared to just a few minutes ago. Like a cat, you curled up in his lap, claiming your territory. It was a cramped spot, huddled up between his chest and the steering wheel, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

His breathing shallowed the closer you pressed and he tried to fill his mind with thoughts that would stop the bulge from growing in his jeans. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. If you saw how he truly felt about you, the way his body just couldn't resist, maybe he’d never get to see you again.

He smoothed his hands over the outside of your thighs, putting your legs on either side of him. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, darlin’.” You smiled into his neck. “Been havin’ a real nice time with ya…s’been a while since I spoke my mind. Nice to know someone cares.”

That last part was quietly whispered into your ear. Wriggling your toes excitedly, he felt the vibration of you humming contentedly against his neck.

Pulling back your head from the crook, he saw your cheeks dusted a rosy pink. They matched his and the heat of the cab that painted droplets on his forehead. Both of you were breathing heavier now, stickily clung to one another with desire hot on your tongue.

“I’ve always cared, Rick,” you pouted, almost offended. “You just never let anyone in.”

He hummed in response, lips pressed thin.

Rick knew you were right. Even Daryl, his right-hand-man, was oblivious to most of the things that raced through the man’s mind. There was so much he had lost—so much he felt he could never obtain—that the grief of it all was too much to speak out loud. 

“Want you to talk to me,” you whined, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “S’not fair how they treat you.”

Your head dipped low, stealing a gasp from Rick’s lips when you started to gently nibble at his collarbone. He sat there, frozen, his fingertips pressing further into your skin the more you licked. Your nose nuzzled the fabric of his shirt, breathing him in deep. A trail of kisses were planted from his pulse point to that soft, sensitive notch behind his ear. Your breath ghosted the shell of cartilage, feeling him twitch with every graze of your lips on his skin.

“T-thank you, darlin’.” He was fighting for his life now—one look away from bursting a blood vessel. “Awfully sweet of ya.”

Watching the Adam’s apple bob in his throat enticingly had your tongue flicking out, licking a stripe down the middle of his throat, feeling the groan he fought back. 

With the way he was holding on, you’d definitely have bruises where his hands sat on your hips. He was gripping onto you like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from drifting away. You weren’t sitting on his lap anymore, but he had it so you were just slightly hovering above him, trying to lessen the temptation he felt. His hips would still twitch upwards with each sloppy kiss you left on his neck though, chasing friction like it was his only will to live.

You didn’t respond to him anymore, just happily sucked along the skin of his neck, feeling the goosebumps rise on his skin. His large hand closed down on the back of your head, sliding up your scalp until he had a firm hold of your hair.

“You’re killin’ me, doll.” His voice was low, guttural, with a breathiness at the end that sounded like he was pleading with you. 

Still, you didn’t look up, didn't even respond, just kept exploring the underside of his jaw, tugging helplessly at his curls. Getting a more hardened grip, he dragged your head to face him. 

“Look at me.” He demanded.

His words weren’t harsh, just firm.

Eyes blown wide and jaw slack, Rick couldn’t help but stare at your kiss swollen lips. He could feel every splotch on his skin where your touch still lingered—how much he had to pretend he didn’t want more.

“We can’t be doin’ this.” Repeating Daryl’s words from earlier, Rick tried to scold himself out of wanting.

“Do what?” you asked, playing dumb.

It was clear you knew what you were doing. It was what you had always wanted to do, but never had the shield of apathy to hide behind. Your embarrassment fizzled away with your sobriety, leaving you an empty husk of pure want—and Rick the target of your desires.

Lacing your fingers with his, you didn’t give Rick a moment to stop you. Didn’t give him the chance to tell you this was a bad idea.

His left hand covered your entire vision, his palm spread wide in front of your face. Cracks and scars littered the skin, hair curling between his knuckles and brushing roughly against the softness of your skin. Hand barely wrapped around his thick wrist, you toyed with the wedding ring on his finger, a cloud of guilt and anger clouding your senses.

You wanted to rip the damn thing off. It felt like some sick joke he was married—if you could even call that facade a marriage. It didn’t feel like she deserved him, but at the same time you wanted to understand the grief she was going through, and somehow process how she could do this to him. She was your friend, and you wanted to believe there was something redeemable under all the mistrust she created.

Rick stared at the band with you, both your eyes lingering on the metal, an unspoken conversation shared within the silence.

Cautiously, your eyes flickered to his, trying to read the mix of emotion in those icy blues. Then, slowly, you pressed a gentle kiss to the tips of his fingers, starting from thumb to pinky. He drew in a sharp breath, eyes not leaving yours as you worked your way across his digits. Lips pressed to his pinky, you trailed back, painfully slow, dragging the tip of your tongue over his ring finger, swirling around the tip.

He stifled a moan as you popped the digit between your lips. The band cooled your lips the further you took him, letting your eyes meet his in a deadly hold.

“Fuck,” Rick sighed, tipping his head back against the seat. “Y’don’t know what you’re doin’ t’me.”

He set you down on his lap, your plush thighs flush against his denim clad legs. You could feel him through his jeans and the way he tried to shy away from you. 

“I told you I had a surprise,” you giggled into his ear, bashfully hiding your face in your hair.

You wanted him bad and Rick could only resist for so long. The more he tried to pull away, the more of yourself you gave to him—it felt like an endless back and forth.

“You’ve been plannin’ this then, huh?” He rasped.

His guilt began to simmer and the realization that you wanted him just as badly—plus the grinding of your hips—dimmed any doubt he had before. A slight cockiness smoothed over his tone with you so desperately pawing at him, crying in his ear for more.

Nodding, you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. “Wanted you for so long.”

You whined, pulling yourself closer to him. His hands smoothed down your back, twisting the hem of your shirt around his fingers until he skated a light, feathery touch along your skin. 

“Yeah?” He laughed a little at your eagerness, the way you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. “Coulda told me sooner, darlin’. Woulda taken care of ya.”

Pressing your hips down even harder, Rick took hold of your waist, stilling your movements. The pads of his fingers tapped gently against your side, beckoning your attention. Eyes blown wide, you looked up at him, lips parted like you were drooling over the sight of him.

“You want that, hmm?” Even with you crawling on top of him, nudging the buckle of his belt, there was a part of him that still needed to hear that yes. A deep, gaping part of him that still didn’t believe you could want him in this capacity, that in his position as a leader he had somehow swayed your thinking. “Wan’ me t’take care of ya?”

Impatiently, you clawed at the collar of his shirt, stretching out the fabric, trying to pull it over his head.

“Mhmm,” you nodded exaggeratively, your tongue poking out to wet your lips. “Please, Rick, that’s all I want.”

Well if you were gonna ask so nicely…

He smiled, washing away that last shred of doubt with that persistent look in your eye.

“Okay, sweet girl.” He glanced over his shoulder, wishing there was somewhere else other than the front seat of this truck he could be having this moment with you. The seat was cramped, your legs tangled in his lap, pressing against the steering wheel with a certain discomfort. “C’mere.” He lifted you onto the center console, guiding his seat back, and widened his stance for you to sit comfortably between his legs.

Happily, you perched yourself in front of him again, roaming your hands over the expanse of his chest. You tugged yourself closer, allowing yourself to get lost in the scent of him, letting your face absentmindedly brush against his skin.

“Wish this coulda been somewhere more special,” he started. Teeth grazed the shell of your ear, biting the lobe and tugging the skin harshly, making you whimper. “Been thinkin’ of this for a while, doll…” His hands slipped up the legs of your shorts, cupping your ass beneath the fabric, toying with the hem of your underwear. “How soft your skin feels in my hands…how good you’d taste. Feels like a dream jus’ gettin’ to touch you.”

You tossed your arms over his shoulders, bucking into his touch. Forehead pressed against his, you whined, wanting more of him. You placed your lips on his, tugging him closer and pushed deeper into the kiss. His lips were warm just like the rest of him, skin cracked and rough on the edges, reminding you that he was really here. Hands firm, he held you like it was something he owned, something he couldn’t live without. 

Brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, he gave you a false sense of control, letting you explore him eagerly, shamelessly circling your hips. You were chasing your own pleasure through the confines of your shorts, moaning into his mouth each time you felt him brush up against you.

If he weren’t so close, Rick could’ve lived in this moment forever, letting your bodies meld into one another. He couldn’t fool himself though—he wasn’t getting any younger. It had been a while since he’d felt like this, been this close to somebody. Though his mind was cherishing this moment, taking it all in one breath at a time, his body was chasing a fast release, his balls tightening with each roll of your hips.

“Slow down, doll” he chuckled, hands resting on your hips, stilling your movements. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

That made your head dip low and cheeks flush in embarrassment. It had been so long since you’d been intimate—spent so much time daydreaming over this man—that the moment you got the opportunity you were rutting up against him like a hormonal teenager.

You softly mumbled out an apology, hips twitching with need as you tried to give him some space.

“Jus’ a little eager, ain’t that right, darlin’?” His fingers held tight on your jaw, cheeks slightly pinched together. Your eyes were glassy, lips pouted with a pent-up frustration that made his cock twitch beneath the denim. “Ain’t nothin’ t’be ashamed of.”

Nodding, you smiled, pawing at the loops of his belt, tugging his hips towards you.

He curled his fingers more sharply around you, cupping your heat, feeling the damp, sticky wetness through the fabric. Your body was a stripped wire, feeling every touch times ten, flashing sparks with each graze of his fingers.

Rick was so gentle with you in his words. You could feel through his touch that he wanted nothing more than to strip you down and claim you as his. His mind was a complicated thing though, always had been, seeking confirmation with every interaction. He didn’t move his lips or wander his fingertips until he had found the spot that made you shudder, moving on to claim the next piece of you, lapping up your sounds like praise.

He turned you in his lap, pressing you back flush to his chest. You could see out onto the street now, fingers curling around the leather of the sterling wheel while you tried to ground yourself. Lifting your hips, he popped the button of your shorts, sliding the fabric down your legs until they pooled at your ankles. 

Sucking in a breath, he groaned out a low string of curses, taking in the view of your soaked undergarments. Looping the waistband over his thick digit, he snapped the elastic back onto your skin, watching you flinch forward.

“Stop teasing.” You pleaded, arching your back, chasing his touch. “Please.”

The sound of your desperation, those salty tears rasping your voice, had his fingers moving even slower. He wanted to hear you beg. Wanted you sobbing in his lap until your tears soaked the denim, just pleading for a taste of his cock. But you were so sweet with your tear stained cheeks and puffy lips, asking for him so nicely. This time he’d let you off easy, figuring he’d savoured the moment long enough.

“Okay, darlin’.” His thick middle finger breached the hem of your underwear, pressing up the seam between your thigh. “Easy now.”

You were thrashing against him, bucking against the empty air. He kept you still though, one arm wrapped over the front of you, pressing down on your hips. His head dipped next to yours that was lulled back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut with an impatient scrunch of the nose. His stubble scratched your skin and you could hear his stuttered breaths while he looked down at your core fluttering around the tip of his finger just barely grazing your entrance.

Collecting your wetness onto his fingers, they glistened in the light, matching your slick coated thighs. Pulling the rest of the fabric from your thighs, he brushed his thumb against your clit in a long, slow stripe. Again, you arched your back up off of him, tipping your head back with an unrestrained moan.

That was the sound he was looking for.

Latching his fingers onto the bud, he pinched, watching you squirm beneath him. Once again, you flooded his ears with that melodic sound, the unspoken praise perking up his ears.

“Rick…” you sighed, reaching down to his wrist, urging him for more.

Pressing down firmly, he traced slow, lazy circles onto your clit, watching the way your face scrunched in pleasure. He took in every subtle nuance, matching his fingers to the pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. With full control, he used his leg to guide you along his slick coated fingers, slinking his hand to brush against your entrance. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he said in awe. His movements were quick, dipping the tip of his fingers between your walls before retreating with a squelching ‘pop’. “Y’hear that? She’s jus’ beggin’ f’me.”

You babbled incoherently, all thought going to the chase of your hips after his fingers. Rick forced his fingers past your lips, garbling the words on your tongue as he pressed the pads further down your throat. You gagged around him, spit bubbling up through your lips. He experimentally dipped his fingers even further back, testing your limits for just a moment before retreating, letting a string of spit connect him to your gasping lips.

He could do this all day if you’d let him. Looking at the way you twitched in his lap, mind numb, body pliant, you honestly might’ve let him. Watching you writhe in pleasure, chasing after his touch, having you call out for him—it was all too much.

Rick was studying—learning the ins and outs of your body in case you ever gave him the honour of touching you like this again. He could ignore the discomfort in his pants if it meant he got to hear those pretty moans on your lips just a little longer.

Eyelids fluttering open., you cried out his name again. “Need you,” you mewled. 

“Y’got me, doll,” he whispered huskily. “All of me– jus’ gotta tell me what you need.”

“Your cock,” you said shamelessly. 

You were always bold, cracking crude jokes that made the group stifle a laugh, maybe even roll their eyes. This was beyond any of his expectations though. This was pure, blatant desire—all directed at him—tumbling off your lips one confession after another.

“S’all yours,” he rasped coarsely. 

Your little fingers tugged on his belt, haphazardly unlatching the clasp the moment he gave you the go ahead. You were beaming, practically buzzing, to get your hands on him. Palming him through the fabric, you pulled down his jeans. Leaving him in just his boxers, the plaid fabric stared back at you intimidatingly, doing little to conceal the rest of him.

Shy fingers poked through the opening, carefully pulling out his length. He held his breath, watching you in awe, a crazed look in his eye while you lazily stroked his cock. Letting out a shaky groan, he couldn’t stop his hips from twitching up into your palm or they way needy moans filtered through his lips.

Rick was a giver—would’ve let himself go untouched if that’s what you wanted. You seemed to be enjoying his pleasure just the same though, taking in those beautifully parted lips and messily scattered curls. 

As much as he wanted to collect himself—focus on your pleasure—he was content with letting you take, take, take, his cock further and further into your palm, wrapping another hand to compensate for the girth.

He was big. Enough to make you a little nervous through your brazenness. The length of him was average, a perfect six or so inches that curved deliciously to his flushed tip. Wrapping your hand around him though, the base of him was wide, the tips of your fingers barely meeting back together. 

Rick was a mess beneath you, heaving out breathy moans and squirming his hips. He was close, more than he’d like to admit, and although your hands felt like heaven on his dick, he tore away your wrists.

Your eyes flicked up at him with a sharp insecurity, the hastiness of his movements taking you by surprise. He still had your wrists taken in his palm, chest heaving while he tried his best to collect himself. Every movement had him sensitive, on the verge of release, but he couldn’t let himself finish before he got inside you—before he made you finish.

You yelped as Rick lifted your hips, tossing your arms over his shoulders for balance. He was steady in the confined space, lip tucked beneath his teeth as he watched you with precision. Leaning back, he angled his hips towards the wheel, guiding you back so he could watch himself slide into you.

Sliding his tip through your slick, you gasped, tipping your head against the glass. He notched his tip to the brink of your entrance, watching your chest heave. As much as he wanted to watch the way you swallowed him in, he kept his focus on your face, stilling his movements each time he saw you wince.

He only had the tip in and you were already scrunching your nose, squirming away from the sensation. The intrusion burned, his cock bullying its way through your walls, pushing its way in with a brutal stretch.

You hissed, latching onto his arm, your other hand against his chest, trying to push him away. “S’too much, Rick,” you yelped, watching his swelling tip push past your folds. “C-can’t do it.”

Guilt burned his chest hearing you squeal like that, clawing into his chest to relive the ache. Seeing you so fucked out though—eyes rolled back, lips parted with a shiny trail of spit slicking your skin—he couldn’t pull out now.

He cupped your face, callouses scratching against your skin to refocus you, to bring you back to him. Curling his fingers around the back of your neck, he pulled you to his chest, easing in another couple of inches while he smoothed out your hair.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he shushed your cries into the fabric of his shirt. Tracing shapes into your skin, he waited for your sniffles to subside before taking your hips back into his hold, guiding you down the rest of his length. “You’ve got it…” He picked your limp head off his shoulder, watching it soften as you got used to his size. “See? Ain’t too bad.”

He felt a tight squeeze around his cock and wriggle of your hips telling him he was allowed to move. Still, he needed further reassurance through your frantic nods into the crook of his neck.

“This okay?” Slowly, Rick pulled all the way out until it was just the tip, letting you sink back onto him with a loud squelch. You murmured some sort of praise into his skin, a conglomerate of ‘yesss, please, more’ muffled into his shirt. “Gotta hear ya, doll.”

“Yesss,” you moaned, lifting your head the best you could to look at him through teary eyes. “So good…please.”

Rick let out a satisfied hum, content with himself in how quickly he was able to make your mind go stupid on his cock.

Picking up the pace, you could feel the truck rocking beneath you. His breath was ragged, keeping himself flush against the back of the seat and holding a solid grip on your hips. As he pounded up into you, the edges of your vision blurred out, getting fuzzier the closer your bodies got. Your bodies clung together, sweat dripping off his curls and into your lap, only adding to the soft sloshing between you. 

He had fully stopped talking now, too close to the edge to hear your sweet voice try and respond to him. Just your gasps, stuttering out with thrust, was almost enough to send him over the edge, his eyes squeezing shut with the last of his restraint.

Trailing his hand around your front, he dipped his fingers between your folds, collecting the slick you were so generously pouring out for him. Deft fingers crept to your clit, starting with light, fluttering taps that had you biting your fist, trying to conceal your noises. He built up the pressure, finding a steady rhythm around the bud until he felt you shaking, your walls squeezing him in tight.

“C’mon, doll.” He leaned forward, swallowing back a groan, choosing to sink his teeth deep into your shoulder. “Let it all out.”

You cried out at the sensation, all of too much as you came tumbling over the edge. Little crescents indented the skin on his shoulders the deeper you dug, trying to ground yourself through your release. You were trashing in his arms, feeling the drag of his cock past your walls even through the aftershocks. 

He didn’t let up, kept pounding into you with the same force while you rode out your orgasm, chasing his own release. Just moments behind, you heard a broken moan stutter out from his lips, a rosy pink dusting his cheeks. Lifting your hips, he guided you further back against the wheel. Pulling you off his length, he frantically brought up a shaky hand, imagining it was yours as he tugged along the length of his dick. 

His eyes were focused on the tears bubbling in your eyes, that blissed-out look behind them, and the way your pussy fluttered around nothing, trying to coax his length back in. His hips stuttered once, twice, and he was painting the inside of your thighs with his release, blindly smearing the rest along his tip, leaning his head back with a sigh.

“God.” He looked at you in disbelief, almost reaching down to pinch himself. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

Giggling, you felt a hot embarrassment creep up your neck. Sobriety had settled its way through the cracks, your orgasm washing a needed wave of clarity over you. Now, despite being the one to initiate all of this, you felt embarrassed to have been so needy in front of the man you had been crushing on for months.

Rick took notice of your silence, the way you avoided his gaze like the plague. Scrunching his brows, he took hold of your chin, forcing you to look his way.

“Doll?” He blinked, trying to read your expression. “Y’alright?”

Bleakly, you nodded, somewhere far off from yourself.

“Talk t’me,” Rick urged, growing more concerned. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Frantically, you shook your head, palms splayed out in front of you. “No, no, it’s just…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Was…was that okay? I was pretty drunk and all over you…Are you sure that’s what you wanted?”

A laugh leaked from his lips before he could stop it from happening. 

You thought you’d forced yourself on him? 

He could’ve never thought of something further than the truth—the same exact thought clouding his mind except about himself.

“That’s what got ya so down?” Chuckling, he brought a hand to your face, pinching your cheek with his thumb. “Thas the last thing you need t’be worryin’ ‘bout. Could never stop me from wantin’ ya…was worried that you didn't want me, darlin’.”

“Really?” you giggled, popping your head off his chest. 

“Yes, really,” Rick smiled. “An old man like me would be crazy passin’ up a pretty girl like you. ‘Specially if she wanted me s’bad as you do,” he teased, giving your hip a playful squeeze. “Needy lil thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide the blush that crept on your face. “Yeah, yeah, Grimes.” Crossing your arms, you gave him a feigned look of annoyance. “Thought you said we needed to get back to camp?”

Squeezing your thighs, he took one last look over your figure before clearing his throat. “Anythin’ you say, darlin’.” His eyes were unfocused, darting up and down your frame—god, he was pussy whipped. “Let’s get ya cleaned up first, yeah?”

Smirking, you dipped your pointer finger down to the puddles splashed on your thighs. Swiping at the liquid, Rick watched you intently as your lips wrapped around the digit, sucking off the salty fluid.

“Fuck,” he hissed, taking your thighs in a bruising grip. “Gonna be the death of me, doll.”

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @death-in-a-tar0t-card @skankhvnt42 @riverz-pawz @1unaang3l @thee-fantastic-mrfox @spookysights-blog @snooziesuzie @kitty-grimes (message me to be added or removed)

[3racha-agustd]

Imagine your husband loving you so much that after completing the mission that saved his life, the first thing he does is put on your wedding ring.

[acecroft]

LEON S. KENNEDY portrayed by Nick Apostolides in Resident Evil: Requiem (2026) dev. by Capcom

[acecroft]

LEON S. KENNEDY portrayed by Nick Apostolides in Resident Evil: Requiem (2026) dev. by Capcom

[spinkville]

never kill yourself. playable old man Leon roundhouse kicking and saying one liners in 2026, okay?

[cosmicasteroid]

Date Night

Leon Kennedy x wife!reader Summary: You and Leon finally get a night to yourselves. Tags/Warnings: nsfw (minors dni), riding into missionary, written with re9 Leon in mind, pet name (baby), aftercare, no pronouns used but reader has a pussy, soft sex, you and Leon have two kids Word count: under 1k A/N: I decided to write a smut for 400 followers/valentines special. This is my first smut, and I am so nervous about posting it 😭 Apologies if it is cringe. I am aware 😓

~~~~~~~

“You look gorgeous.” Hands wrap around your waist as Leon presses against your back.

You look into the mirror to see Leon eyeing you up and down behind you. His hands begin to rub your hips.

“You gelled your hair up,” you sniffle back a laugh as you take it in. His normal 90s hairstyle that he's barely changed since he's met you is style up neatly for once, and the stubble he's been growing out is shaved off.

“I say you look gorgeous, and you have to hold back your laughter at the sight of my hair. I even shaved the stubble for you.”

“I know, and I hate it,” you turn around to face him, your arms wrapping around his neck“I like you scruffy.”

“I wanted to look nice for you.” he smirks, leaning in to kiss your neck. 

You roll your eyes and pull away, going to put your earrings in. “Are the kids set with everything?”

“Both Charlotte and Stella are at their friends' houses until the morning, so we have the whole house to ourselves.” Leon follows you close behind, his hands going back to your waist.

“How about we skip the restaurant and stay home instead? Order some Chinese and watch some movies like old times.”

“Well,” Leon shifts, looking off to the side, “I was looking forward to getting dinner out.”

-

A restaurant you've been at a million times. You had your first official date here, the dinner to celebrate your marriage, wedding anniversaries, and even just random dates. 

The staff knows you and Leon pretty well at this point, so you always get set up with the best table and service when they see your names on the reservation list.

“When was the last time we had a valentines date with just the two of us?” You feel Leon's hand travel up your thigh, hidden by the table.

You look up from the menu at Leon before quickly looking back at it, “hm… the one before Stella was born, I think.” You close the menu, setting it on the table, “It's not even Valentine's Day, so this year doesn't even count again.”

You normally give the nanny Valentine's day off and spend it with the kids if you can. You and Leon don't mind, especially with work, keeping him away often. This is the first time in years you've done something for Valentine's alone, even if it is a few days later.

“I guess now that the girls are older, we can do more things like this. Charlotte has her first boyfriend, and I'm sure it'll only be a few years till Stella follows.” You continue

“Let's not focus too much on the kids.” Leon takes your hand. “We're husband and wife tonight.” he kisses the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” you smile, “husband and wife.” 

“Good.” He lets go of your hand, picking up the menu, “now what should we order?” 

-

You know exactly how you got into this position. The continued flirtatious touches during dinner and on the drive home. Then the glass of wine and make-out was what finally pushed it to this.

You naked on top of Leon as you slowly ride him while on the couch.

Soft moans are exchanged as you and Leon slowly kiss. His hand between your thighs to rub your clit. 

“Keep doing that, baby.” Leon groans, breaking away from the kiss to lean his head back. his hands moving to your hips to help set the pace.

“Leon,” you moan, burying your face into his neck.

“You feel good, huh?” Leon's thumbs rubbing into your hips as he helps guide you.

The pace is slow.

Years of being rushed, parking on some off-road, and being separated for weeks at a time have neither of you caring if you finish.

Being closer together, feeling closer together. As you and Leon grow older together it's what sex has become.

But moments of lust still consume the both of you.

Leon's hands grab your hips tighter as he pins you down on your back, his body hovering over yours.

“Sorry,” Leon mumbles, kissing your neck, his hips thrusting into yours, “just needed to feel you better.”

Leon's weight presses into you. Your moans muffled against him as the sound of skin on skin slowly fills the room.

“you close?” Leon's forehead rests against yours as he looks into your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Need help gettin’ there?” he sits Up, his hands moving to your waist as he continues to fuck you.

“You–” your back arches as Leon hits a new angle, “you always complain about your back whenever we use this position.”

“Considerant as always,” Leon chuckles, “it's worth it to see you like this.” 

“I'm not rubbing any of that stuff on your back after–” "Let's not focus on that,” Leon interrupts, leaning down to kiss you, “just focus on how good you feel.’ his hand reaches between your thighs to rub your clit again.

Your vision goes white as your climax hits just a few moments later. Leon's hips shuddering against yours as he spills into you.

He looks down at you. Your eyes closed as you catch your breath.

“You with me, baby?” Leon brushes the sweat soaked hair out of your face.

“Yeah, I'm just tired.”

“How about a bath then?” Leon sits you up. 

“A bath, with you in it,” you wrap your arms around Leon's neck as he lifts you up.

“Maybe we should put some of that salt stuff in it for my back. It's starting to hurt”

“I knew it.” You laugh.

“Don't laugh,” Leon uses his foot to shut the door behind him, setting you on the bathroom counter, “give me a few minutes and I'll be ready for round two.” 

-

Main Masterlist

[danytar]

— “Re9 Leon Headcanons”

— Old!Husband!Leon X Fem!Wife!Reader

A.N : Ignore the mistakes,i’m not native speaker :>, enjoy itt!

Somehow, you and Leon find yourselves living a peaceful life after retiring, even though you still take on some investigations since you’re no longer able to carry out deadly missions like you used to.

Aging together wasn’t that bad—it wasn’t like you once feared, that one day he would give up on you and the family you had created together for a younger, prettier face.

Leon respects the relationship and the life you share. He respects his lifelong partner and would never let you down or leave you for a younger woman. He appreciates the devotion and patience you’ve shown him throughout all those years—and still do.

In his eyes, you’re still the same young, pretty girl he met back in Raccoon City 30 years ago. That city was a real nightmare for him, but at least he didn’t leave it empty-handed.

At this point, your children—or “The Kids,” as he always called them—are adults now. But Leon doesn’t see them as grown-ups, and neither do you; to both of you, they are still your little, adorable babies—except for the youngest, who is only 10 years old and the most spoiled girl in the world, her daddy’s princess.

Leon is the perfect example of a classic gentleman husband—he takes you on dates even when you sometimes complain that you’re too old for that kind of thing. But he never listens in that department; he wants his full attention on you, and only you. He may have lost a lot of time in his 20s and 30s to his never-ending missions, but now he’s all yours, and he doesn’t want to waste a single second.

A very proud husband of his one and only Mrs. Kennedy, Leon finds himself struggling with modern technology, especially social media. But with his son’s help, he has learned how to do a few things, like updating an Instagram post or story.

It’s mostly the same thing he always posts: pictures of himself with you on expensive holidays, or driving his Porsche while listening to ’90s classic music—he’s never been a fan of modern music.

You and Leon mostly take your youngest daughter with you on holidays and trips, leaving a small note on the fridge for your 21-year-old sons. Of course, it’s always Leon’s idea—he loves teasing them mercilessly.

You always end up taking him to the mall to buy new coats or jackets. Leon trusts your sense of fashion—it’s amazing how you always find the perfect pieces for him to wear. Intelligent, dashing, and handsome.

He’s smug about the way you always look at him when he’s in his perfectly tailored suits, as if he just stepped out of a mafia novel. In return, he buys you matching coats.

If there’s one thing he loves most about you, it’s the way your cheeks turn red when he flirts with you. He never fails to make you blush, and he loves that you still get shy sometimes, even after all these time —it makes him feel young again.

[tnydolly]

re9!leon x younger!reader

warnings ; age gap ( leon’s 51, readers in her 20’s ), dirty talk, dirty talk of age gap, unprotected sex, creampie, slight hair pulling, praising, breeding kink undertone, slight aftercare

your bent over the counter, skirt flipped up, panties shoved to the side. his pants are half way down his thighs, zipper down just enough so thick cock is already out and leaking. he’s staring down at where your pussy’s swallowing him, jaw clenched.

“fuck…look at that,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “so pretty baby… such a pretty little pussy.” you whimper, pushing back, nails scraping the counter. “leon—harder, please” he snaps his hips forward, thrusting in deep, makes your whole body jolt. “shouldn’t even be inside you. too fucking young for me to be ruining this pretty little cunt.”

you moan louder, clenching around him on purpose. “i love it, when you fuck me like i’m your dirty secret”

he groans, one hand threading through your hair from behind, pulling your head back so you’re arched perfect into him. “yeah? like knowing i’m old enough to be your dad while i’m balls-deep in you? like knowing i’m corrupting you every time i cum inside?”

“yes, fuck yes—” you’re babbling now, thighs shaking. “your so much older, your cock’s so big, it stretches me so good, makes me feel so small”. he speeds up, pounding you stupid, your whole body shaking. with every thrust.

“should be ashamed of myself. fucking a girl half my age like this. but you keep begging for it and squeezing me like you want me to breed you.” you cry out, pushing your hips back harder. “do it, fill me up please…” he moans low, hips snapping non stop till he cums hard with a choked “fuck—baby”. he pumps you full, hips jerking as he empties inside you. you cum right after, pussy milking him dry till your legs give out.

he stays buried inside you, his heavy breath on your neck. his cock twitches inside you one last time before he pulls out of your fluttering pussy. his thick cum drips out almost immediately, running down the counter. he almost lets out a moan as he watches and reaches out to push it back in your pussy. you lay there whimpering and dreading to have to clean up the sticky mess.

[rednnedy]

TAKE THE RISK ✹ Leon Kennedy

SUMMARY: After Leon's latest mission, he decides to take you on vacation. Renting a yacht catches you out off guard, same as going all the way to Monaco but, as Leon says, just let yourself go... and that includes having public sex with him, too ‼️ NSFW: public sex, oral (female and male receiving), fingering, slightly dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap it before tap it), orgasm denial ✹ PAIRINGS: RE9 Leon Kennedy x GF!Reader (in her late 20s/early 30s) ✹ WORD COUNT: 2871 ✹ Find me on AO3 ✹ Make your RESIDENT EVIL REQUESTS here (information included) ✹ My RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST ✹ DILF LEON MASTERLIST

📂 Day 1/9 of 9 DAYS TO REQUIEM | 🏷️: @millimeraki @lskluvbot @ficresident @aurorag98

Leon tells you to pack a small suitcase with just the essentials because you’re going on a very much deserved vacation after his last mission. 

He tells you that it’ll be just a small trip, so you definitely do not expect to end up taking a private jet to Monaco.

Of course, you don’t expect being three days later going around the Monegasque coast on a yacht Leon rents.

“We deserve this,” he says, burying his mouth in your neck. “Let me spoil us for a few days… I need to keep my mind away from home.”

He moves around the deck as if he’s been doing this kind of… thing millionaires do his entire life. Even after being with him for years now, you’re still surprised by how naturally he handles moments like this that, for you, are way far from normal.

You stay lying on the sun lounger, watching him. Both his hands rest on the wheel.

You notice his arms, too muscular, and you can’t help but think about—

“You okay?”

Still holding the wheel, Leon turns to look at you. His sunglasses are slipping down his nose, and his hair is a complete mess because of the wind. However, all you can focus is on his chest, on how perfectly built he is, and—

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” your boyfriend insists.

“No, no, it’s not... It’s just that… you know, I was thinking about stuff. Work stuff,” you lie.

You’re obviously thinking about how he could be fucking you right now.

You shift uncomfortably on the lounger.

“Come on, we’re on vacation,” he replies with a smile. “Stop thinking so much… and relax. Enjoy, really.”

“Can’t I think about anything other than vacation now?”

“Sure, I’m not saying you can’t, but don’t overthink… your world stuff,” he says. “I’ve been telling you all these days: we’re on vacation to relax. Let yourself go, love. Don’t be as strict with yourself like you always are. ”

Let yourself go. That’s all he’s been telling you since you got on the plane to Monaco.

The truth is, you’re letting yourself go… but you can’t help but be a bit tense. Maybe… too tense. Places like Monaco, where everyone and everything radiates money, make you feel like you do not belong there. 

And, definitely, not as Leon’s partner.

He’s noticed, of course, which is why he’s kept repeating those three words during the past days. Not to mention how attentive he’s been with you, constantly making sure you are comfortable.

Hesitant, you carefully get up from the lounger, adjusting the dress you’re wearing, as you walk awkwardly toward him.

You stand behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, rising onto your toes and leaving a trail of kisses on his neck, down to his shoulder blades. At the same time, your fingers trace shapes across his body.

You feel Leon tense under your touch. You smile.

“Careful, baby…” he whispers, tilting his head slightly toward you and placing a kiss on your cheek. “You know what I have in my hands, right? This is a big responsibility.”

“You always say that,” you reply, massaging his shoulders now. “Come on, relax a little… You’re the one who said it earlier: we’re on vacation. Don’t you think you deserve to step away, even just a little, from this big responsibility?”

You feel the yacht begin to slow down until it comes to a complete stop in the middle of the sea. The port is still visible, but far enough away that no one can make out details of your yacht.

Far enough that no one can see you and Leon.

Leon turns toward you and takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and kisses them. Then, he gently pulls you closer until you’re pressed against him.

You feel him smile, his lips curving shyly in that deliberate way he always does when he knows exactly what’s going through your mind.

“Do you want me to set my responsibilities aside?” he asks, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Well… it depends,” you answer, smiling even wider. “Did you stop the yacht here for a reason? Because… I don’t know… Don’t you think it’s getting a bit late? Maybe we should head back…”

“Do you want me to go back to the port? This early?”

Leon looks… disappointed.

You can’t help but hold back an even wider smile.

Carefully, you step away from him and head back to the lounger, slowly taking off the dress you¡re wearing.

You pull it over your head at an unhurried pace, knowing that even though your back is turned to him, Leon’s watching you. Devouring you with his eyes.

And he is, of course.

“I’m going to sunbathe for a bit!” you call out. “Make sure we get back to the port safe and sound!”

Leon swallows. 

His hands return to the wheel automatically, but it’s not his intention at all to head back to the port, especially with several ideas starting to come to his mind.

Now, seeing you so playful and clearly provoking him, he knows perfectly well what you want.

And, of course, Leon’s going to give it to you.

You are on vacation, after all. Just like he told you, you have to let yourselves go. 

And Leon Kennedy is a man who sticks to his words.

He watches as you apply sunscreen all over your body, clumsily reaching the spots that are harder to get to. He makes sure the yacht is perfectly still and quickly walks toward you.

“Could you help me?” you ask innocently when he is just a few steps away, offering him the bottle. “I’m struggling a bit to…”

“Lie down on the lounger.”

Leon takes the bottle, and you hear the sound of the lotion as you lie face down.

You shiver slightly when you feel him sit awkwardly on your hips, careful to not put his full weight on you. You shiver again when you feel his hands spread the cream slowly over your shoulders, trying to help you relax your muscles.

A satisfied moan slips from your lips. You do your best to not move. You try to not let your hand instinctively drift down to your already soaked pussy, but it becomes impossible when you feel Leon’s hands move lower, right toward the small of your back, to start massaging dangerously close to your ass.

“Fuck, Leon…” you moan when you feel one of his hands move decisively to grab one of your ass cheeks. You feel the other one undoing the knot of your bikini.

Leon knows he has to control himself, but he can’t. 

And he’s not going to blame himself either: after all, you’re the one who started teasing.

“Do you need something, love?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Leon…”

“Is this turning you on?” he insists.

“Fuck, Leon…”

You moan again, louder this time. Leon feels his cock pressing tighter and tighter against his swim trunks, and he needs to do something as soon as possible to please him.

He decides to grind lightly against your ass, carefully, as if that wasn’t really his intention. The last thing Leon wants is you to know how desperate he’s for you

You notice it anyway.

Your undoing begins to spiral out of control when you feel him scattering kisses all over your back while his hands continue caressing you.

One hand slides over the bottom of your bikini, but just when you expect him to go further, Leon pulls away from you.

“You need me to help you?” he asks in your ear, moving carefully beneath your breasts.

“Yes, please…”

Leon ignores you. He stands up, stepping away and leaving you desperate, without taking his eyes off you. You notice his erection, more than obvious, and quickly turn onto your back.

Since your boyfriend doesn’t fasten the top of your bikini, it slips off.

Leon bites his lip, devouring you with his gaze as he looks at your breasts before fixing his eyes on yours.

“Leon… Don’t look at me like you want to do something… Just do it… Please…”

You can’t stop moaning. You squeeze your thighs instinctively and run your hands over your tits, trying to find some kind of relief because Leon refuses to help you out for now.

“What do you want, love?” he crouches down in front of your pussy. He kisses you over the fabric of your bikini, and you arch your back, growing even more desperate. “Do I have you that desperate?”

He moves the fabric aside and sees how wet you are, cursing himself because he could come in that exact moment.

He brings his mouth to your center and gives you one long, slow lick, making you moan louder until he stops to look up at you, holding your thighs.

“Keep going, please…” you beg.

“Look at you, so desperate for me, love…”

Leon leaves a trail of chaste kisses, starting in your pussy, moving up to your stomach, to your neck, and ending on your lips. At the same time, he unties the knots of the bottom of your bikini, leaving you completely naked.

He goes back down and gives your pussy another lick, more deliberate this time. He sucks your clit, pressing his tongue inside you. You shudder, unable to stop moaning his name and closing your eyes at the pleasure you’re feeling.

“I want you to look at me,” Leon demands. “Look at me.”

It takes you some effort, but you do it.

You lift yourself slightly, resting on your elbows, trying not to tremble too much as you watch Leon continue to fuck you with his tongue. You slide your hands into his hair, gripping it and pulling him closer to your pussy. 

Your boyfriend takes advantage of his nose now brushing against your clit to tease you, moving his face slightly. You can’t hold back and decide to play along, grinding against his nose, searching for the friction you know can make you come.

Leon smiles, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he pulls back slightly and replaces his tongue with two of his fingers. He thrusts them into you quickly, curling them to reach that spot that makes you lose your mind.

“You should see yourself right now, love,” he spits onto your pussy. You know why: because you belong to him. You are completely his. “So desperate for me… The way you moan my name…”

“Leon…”

You feel you’re about to come. Instinctively, you close your eyes, ready to let yourself be carried away by the wave of pleasure.

The surprise hits you when Leon pulls away, denying you the orgasm.

“Fuck, Leon…” you whimper.

“Do you think you deserve me to make you come?”

“If you don’t make me come, I’ll have to do it myself,” you snap. “And don’t even think I’ll let you watch.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says with a smile, running his hands over your body. “When have I ever left you wanting and unsatisfied, huh?”

Without warning, he pushes his fingers back inside you. Three of them this time.

“Answer me.”

“Leon…”

You cry out when he pushes his fingers as deep as possible, curling them again toward your g-spot.

“That’s what I like to hear… You’re such a good girl...”

Leon’s going crazy. 

He needs to do something, but he knows that, for now, this is your moment so, instead, he rubs himself however he can, though it does little to help how horny he is.

He feels you tightening around his fingers. He knows you are right on the edge. Your moans spill from your mouth mixed with curses, nonstop.

You finally come when Leon adds his mouth back into the equation, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit and giving it small bites.

He tastes you as he carefully pulls his fingers out, trying not to overstimulate you. Then, he lies down beside you. 

You see him trying to hide his erection, strained against the fabric of his swim trunks, but it’s impossible.

You stroke his thigh, moving toward the waistband of his trunks to slip your hand inside and touch his cock.

Leon grabs your wrist and stops you.

“Kepp calm, love. I think I know how to handle things on my own.”

“I don’t need to rest. I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out, letting desperation speak for you.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m definitely going to fuck you… and I think you already know how.”

You roll your eyes and let out a small laugh. Of course you know, and you can’t help but feel yourself even wetter, if that is even possible after just coming.

You climb on top of Leon and start kissing him. Your mouth trails down his neck, sucking just enough to leave marks. Slowly, unhurriedly, you move down his abdomen until you reach the waistband of his swim trunks.

This time, Leon doesn’t stop you when you stroke his cock over the fabric. Instinctively, he lifts his hips slightly, searching for more than just a tease.

Now he’s the one getting more and more desperate and, of course, now you’re the one who’s going to make him lose his mind over you.

“Hey… You could do something about it, you know?”

You hear the impatience in his voice. You look at him and smile, not answering.

He can’t take it anymore, and you notice. 

You quickly pull his swim trunks down. The moment his cock springs free, you see the bead of pre-cum at the tip already.

Leon doesn’t waste a second. He gathers your hair into an improvised ponytail. You don’t waste time either: you give him a slow, tentative lick before taking him into your mouth, moving fast, almost greedily, while stroking what doesn’t fit with your hands.

Your lips wrap around the tip and you hollow your cheeks to take him deeper like you know Leon loves. He keeps moaning your name louder as he starts thrusting into your mouth.

You quicken the movement of your tongue when you know he’s close to coming. He doesn’t even have time to warn you before he does: even as he tries to pull away, you keep licking him, swirling your tongue around the tip until you feel his cum spill into your mouth.

You swallow everything while looking up at him with a satisfied smile. Then, you wipe the corner of your lips, your eyes still full of desire and without stopping looking at Leon.

You lean over him and kiss him. This time, you set desperation aside and take control of the pace, slower and more sensual. Straddling Leon, you grind against him, smiling against his lips and letting out the occasional giggle while his hands roam over your waist.

“You can be too dangerous sometimes, love…” he murmurs.

“Yeah? You really think so?” you stroke his cheek innocently before kissing him again.

You pull apart abruptly when you hear the sound of a motor approaching.

You’re still naked, but you don’t even think about it.

However Leon, instinctively, wraps his arms around you, trying to shield your body from whoever that could watch you… and failing miserably. You’re pressed so tightly against him that you feel his cock hardening again, and you try to pull back slightly because it’s more than clear you’re no longer safe having sex on the yacht.

At least, not that publicly.

Though you never really were. You just… let yourselves go.

“Is it just me, or…?” Leon whispers, a mix of amusement and concern in his tone.

“What if they saw us?” you ask, covering your mouth. You don’t know whether to laugh or panic.

Carefully, Leon sits up with you still on top of him, keeping you covered as best he can. He reaches for one of the towels on the floor and wraps it around you before standing to grab his swim trunks, apparently unconcerned about who might see him.

“Well, then they better enjoyed the show.”

“Leon!”

“You feel like going for a second round?”

You’re about to protest, to tell him you do not want to take the risk again, but he cuts you off, scooping you up in his arms and heading downstairs toward the cabin.

“Now? Leon!” you ask him, a bit surprised.

“Actually, I don’t even know why I’m asking. I know perfectly well you want a second round indeed.”

You sigh, unable to suppress a moan when his lips return to your neck and then to your breasts, sucking on your nipples as he walks awkwardly, trying not to make you both fall.

He lays you down on the bed and, without warning, lifts your right leg over his shoulder. He licks his hand and starts rubbing your pussy fiercely, giving you a sharp slap that makes you cry out his name.

“You know I’ll always want a second, and third round with you, love…”

He silences you with a kiss as, without any warning and letting his desperation control him, he thrusts into you.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback on the comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated but, if you feel shy, just send me an anonymous ask! 💖 This will be a safe space and I won't share any of RE9 spoilers, so don't worry! Take care of spoilers out there, and PLEASE: if you stuff, use spoiler warnings and be empathetic to those who want to wait for release date!

[doll2kiss]

𐔌⠀⠀𓈒 BANGING YOUR DAD'S BEST FRIEND! leon s. kennedy.

content: after a outrageous shift, you came to your parents house for your dad's birthday just for you to found out his old buddy, leon kennedy, is back in town for a night.

tags and warnings ahead: pwp, age difference. sort of age-play, older and divorced leon kennedy, filtring, dry-humping, knee riding, semi-public sex, no prep, dom leon/sub reader, fingers in mouth, breeding kink.

author's note .ᐟ this was a draft from almost two years. the older leon kennedy pill still works on me so what don't give it a try? but yeah! hope you like it, xoxo.

you finally arrived to your house, the shift you took almost killed you.

as you sit yourself on the living’s sofa, your mom went there to tell you that one of your dad’s old time friend was coming here.

LEON KENNEDY was quite a figure for the most part of you life because of the long-time friendship he had with your dad. you haven’t seen him too much since you were fifteen, when he decided to move to another city to presude a job.

but even if you haven’t had a sight of him, you heard everything about it. and i mean everything.

your father’s late-nights talks with him resolved in a lot of gossip for the next morning; his job and how hard was for him, how many cities he had visited in the spear of one year but mostly that he’s now divorced from his wife.

his divorce was nothing new to you. from childhood you recoil that him and his wife had ceased to be a dream-match many many years ago. they never had children or even wanted to and although on the outside they had been labeled as an ‘eccentric couple’ your family knew how much it cost that man to get out of that circle of endless apologies.

it was midnight when a knock on the door knocking! sound alerted everyone.

your father rushed to it and greeted the man with a big hug and greetings that could be heard all the way to the living room. when your father returned to the living room, you expected to find a broken man—especially knowing what had happened.

but no, it was quite the opposite.

and there he was. you wouldn't have guessed he was in fact older than your dad. his hair was still somewhat blond, even with several gray strands, and had a beard that wasn't very prominent but still visible.

his body was robust and he had several marks on his arms—his big arms.

this wasn't the leon you remembered, or perhaps your mind was too intoxicated to comprehend the enormous presence standing in front of you. the weirdest part of the whole meeting was that he didn't really recognize you at first. now, don't get me wrong—it wasn't like those older folks who just forget faces; it’s just that he still had that mental picture of you as a fifteen-year-old.

once it clicked that it was you, he almost passed out. leon felt sick just by seeing you after such amount of time, his gaze went up and down on-going for a little two minutes before your dad spoke to break the silence between you both.

“so, i hope you still remember my daughter,” he said, hugging you from your shoulders.

“yeah, i do remember her.” leon responded.

but you couldn't stop looking at him curiously—did he really remember you? if he did, you were nervous because you didn't want him to see you as that fifteen-year-old girl who behaved like a brat to catch his attention.

leon on the other hand was screwed, so-fucking bad. if he had imagined that you had grown up to be one of the most beautiful women he had seen since his divorce, he would haven’t even come to visit so unprepared.

internally he was biting the flesh of his cheek so as not to flirt with you in front of your father or he would kill him but, ohmygod. it was hard.

the night passed too slowly for both of your own and his liking. a long time passed when you both had lost the battle of who was eating the other more with their gaze, gratefully your father was too distracted to see how his best friend looked at you with every slight movement.

the birthday cake passed by the table as well as several glasses of champagne between everyone, and even so, the eldest's blue eyes did not leave your presence. they were staring even more than before.

you had to bail yourself from there. as you excused and retire from the table while mumbling some half-baked-lie about needing some quote on qoute fresh air, but your parents knew you were just heading to the house’s balcony to smoke out your nerves. honestly, work has been such a dumpster fire lately that nicotine is the only thing keeping you from a total villain arc.

as you swiped your diy-pack of malboros you made and save for a post-shift treat, finally had the courage to step out the living room.

slumping into one of those cheap patio chairs, you tried to breath properly but your own brain was already doing gymnastics over leon.

like, what’s his actual fucking deal with all of this bullshit looking? because the way his eyes were on you felt almost like he was yearning, or straight-up thinking with his dick—you couldn’t really tell.

part of you just wondered if he’s just lowkey bitter and sexually frustrated post-divorce, but that’s not nearly close. leon is, well.. leon fucking kennedy; the man probably has a whole waiting list of women in his DMs. why would he be wasting his time staring down a girl as young as you?.

yeah you were spiraling over and over again.

mid-inhale and you were already feeling quite delusional about it, that’s when a hand landed on your left shoulder.

a heavy, calloused and firm grab. the second its fingers hit, your entire body felt nervous and started to glitch. stomach on going with a series of internalized backflips. you knew who it was.

“those things will kill you, y’know.” leon said.

his voice was low, whispery like. it wasn’t like the way boys usually talked to you, he remained steady and patient.

you took a long, quite shaky drag and finally exhaling the smoke into the crips night air, glancing timidly at him. “since when you’re my doctor, mister kennedy? i’m pretty sure the stress of this whole party is going to killl me before this.” you add while mocking him.

leon let out a huff hat was almost a laugh, his thumb grazing the line of your collarbone just for seconds before he pulled his hand away from you, leaning against the railing next to her.

he looked expensive—the kind of expense that came with a decade of seniority and a soul-crushing divorce settlement: his sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that had no business looking that good.

“fair point,” he conceded. his eyes already going up and down scanning you, making you feel literally small on his behalve.“but you’re too young to be this cynical. leave the slow burnout to people my age.”

“so that’s what the divorce thing left you,” you added, teasing him looking more bolder than before.

leon tilded his head slowly, a knowing smirk tugging in the corner of his mouth. “i think i’ve still got a little spark left ... though i suppose that depends on who’s asking.”

he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the blunt from between your knuckles, giving it a try. fuck, fuck, fuck.

“you’ve been staring at me all night,” but so did him. “care to tell me why, or am i going to have to play the guess game with you?.”

your heart was doing backflips constanly. “oh. well let me tell you sir, i wasn’t the only one doing it.”

leon just stepped a fraction closer, invading your personal space in such way you felt how your lungs tighten more and more.

“don't stay out here too long, sweetheart. it’s getting cold.”

however, you didn't make him wait too long; without thinking twice, you took that cigarette from his fingers, threw it away and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him to your mouth and kissing him with such intensity that several soft whimpers escaped him between kisses.

and he didn’t refuse it, not at all. leon moved you and him to a corner hidden from everyone else’s sight by a wall, his mouth kissing yours with such hunger, his tongue making its way inside it.

“fuck doll, your dad is going to cut my head off.” he whimpered, biting your lower lip with his front teeth.

leon’s palms moved up and down on your waist, trying to keep you as close to him, lips running and trailing upstairs your neck and drawing muffled moans from you. you had to cover your mouth with your right hand—you felt dirty just from feeling your underwear begin to dampen from the slightest touch of his beard against your skin.

“mister kennedy,” you whispered.

“call me leon. princess.”

“leon, leon please.” you barely responded.

when suddenly, another voice appeared. “sweetheart, is leon with you?,” you dad asked—his voice sounding tender and worried. fuck! fuck!.

even so, leon never stopped. those wet, lawd and noisy kisses on your skin didn't want to leave for a second.

on the inside you just wanted to hit that man and answer your father properly—but you couldn't. your voice was too weak from all the moans you stifled in your throat.

“sweetheart?” another call.

“answer him, sweetheart,” he mocked.

a thread hanging from your voice, letting out a short gasp before you could even respond.

“y—yeah dad, leon is, mgh. s—smoking with me..”

after hearing your father's footsteps fading away, leon wasted no time and placed one of his legs between yours, opening them without any shame. "i'm not finished with you," he murmured simply before guiding you to his knee and indicating that you should move your hips against it.

the material of his pants was too rough, but he could still feel the moisture of your panties soaking into them. several grunts escaped his lips. he felt dirty for having you like this—shit … you were his best friend's daughter! and all he could think about was how adorable you would look taking him.

he just kept grunting at your sight, his cock was arching inside his pants begging for a release of some kind but tonight he just wanted to please you, but he had to be quick before your dad starts to questioning where you both are again.

“just like that, angel. you don’t have to rush..” leon’s voice echoed into your ears. “i can feel how giddy you seem down there, s’goddamn good to me.”

he moved his leg away from your core, causing you to let out a weak whimper from the lack of contact. slowly, he lifted the edges of your dress so he could see what he was about to enter.

from his perspective, your body was pressed against the same wall that had held you up just moments before, your legs trembling slightly, your eyes glistening with tears of pleasure and your gaze fixed on him—nonetheless there wasn't even a trace of shyness in your eyes, only a desperate need for him to devour the overwhelming desire you'd been harboring since your first glances that night.

when the sound of his belt unfastening caught your ears, you unconsciously arched your body, breasts pressed even harder against the cold wall, your ass in the air, perfectly positioned to make his mouth water at the sight of you like this, so damnedly surrendered to him.

but not a normal amount, it was bigger than the ones you saw before, its tip glistening slightly with the pre-cum that coated it and with such size on it that would surely make your hips ache the next day.

"you're going to be the death of me, princess," he murmured softly, cupping your face for a few seconds and kissing you wildly. his pants already undone, your panties pulled by the side and when he barely lowered his boxers to let his cock go—and damn, it was big.

“ow baby, don’t get too scared, we’ll make it fit,” leon purred, aligning the tip of his cock between your wet and slippery folds, fake-thrusting on them, coating his length with your juices. the instant his cock forced its way between your rubbery and gummy walls you had to bite your lower lip to avoid making a sound. amid silent curses, the blonde man grabbed your hips and began thrusting without any mercy, digging his fingers into the flesh of your womb like an animal in heat.

“ohmygod!, mister kennedy..”

a sharp smack echoed on the balcony, now your ass bearing the mark of leon’s bare hand against your sensitive skin, your ass getting redder. without stopping his thrusts, he let go of one side of your waist and guided his middle and ring finger inside your mouth—inserting them roughly, gaining a gagging sound from you.

“gonna fill you up, baby,” he mumbled near your ear lobe, licking and biting it in between each thrust, your pussy making lawd sounds with each one, a constant plap! sweep! sound bursting into the night. “’m going to fill this little cunt until you can’t handle anymore, you’re gonna walk inside the house full of cum.”

“leon, mgh! i—can’t. they, m—my dad, he might..”

“he won’t hear us if you keep your pretty mouth closed,” leon grunted, growling under his breath. his lower abdomen started to feel hotter than before, his lunges inside your pussy became rougher.

when your walls began to tighten around his length, fucking shit, leon swears he literally saw stars appear before him.

“this greedy cunt is taking me s’well, mind if i gave her what she needs? bet she’s gonna look so pretty with cum all over her,” he spoke and its way was so dirty you felt an enormous arousal hugging your whole body.

with a chocked and gaggy moan you came all over his cock, coating the entire length with your juices—from its base to the tip. you claimed that dick as yours.

leon had his orgasm a few minutes after yours, painting your walls with his semen, his seed now claiming its place inside you like some type of thropy.

after leon had barely cleaned you up and arranged your clothes, as well as his own, they went inside, greeted by your father—who quickly chided them for taking too long to finish their cigarettes.

however, the glances you both gave eachother concealed a certain complicity. suddenly you brushed leon's shoulder with your fingers, giving him another mischievous look before going to get a glass of beer.

he just smiled, hoping your father would invite him to sleep over so he could have his way with you again against the mirror in your room because he couldn't stop himself.

you were already his.

[leqonsluv3r]

the fucking brainrot…i’m sorry (no i’m not)

[zeldagirl19]

God he's just soooo

[rednnedy]

LIKE WHEN WE WERE YOUNG ✹ Leon Kennedy

SUMMARY: After coming home from a mission, Leon's wife, you, not only help him with his wounds, but also give him a very much deserved reward for making to home alive, just like you did when you were young ‼️ NSFW: oral sex (male receiving), masturbation, p in v (unprotected sex, married couple), cowgirl position. Angst to fluff to smut to fluff. Mentions of almost dying and wounds ✹ PAIRINGS: RE9 Leon Kennedy x Wife!Reader ✹ WORD COUNT: 4401 ✹ Find me on AO3 (read the OC version here) ✹ Make your RESIDENT EVIL REQUESTS here (information included) ✹ My RESIDENT EVIL MASTERLIST ✹ DILF LEON MASTERLIST

📂 Day 5/9 of 9 DAYS TO REQUIEM | 🏷️: @millimeraki @lskluvbot @ficresident @aurorag98 💬 Thoughts on this one? I've had this in mind for a long time now hehe

Leon pushes the door open carefully while, with his other hand, he presses hard against his side.

His breathing is far too unsteady but, as always when he comes home this late, he’s as careful as possible not to wake you or your daughter.

He steps inside and pauses, taking his time to make sure you’re both asleep.

The hallway lights are off, and it doesn’t seem to be a single one on in your bedrooms.

Good.

He sighs, trying to swallow the groans of pain, and closes the door quietly behind him, though he ends up making more noise than he’d have liked to.

“Fuck me…” he mutters under his breath, annoyed.

Leon removes one of his gloves and then the other, tossing them onto the kitchen table before heading straight to the bathroom without turning on any lights.

He has to clean himself up, take some antiseptics, and go straight to bed to hug you.

The plan sounds simple… until he notices the silhouette on the couch.

You’re curled on your side, and the blanket that was covering you is now half fallen to the floor. One arm is tucked under your head, and the other is resting on what’s probably the pillow from your bedroom.

You shift slightly, a bit uncomfortable, slowly becoming alert of the faint noise you’re hearing.

Leon realizes he woke you too late.

You open your eyes, slowly, squinting when you make out your husband’s figure in the dim light.

“Leon? Is that you?” you ask, confused.

He closes his eyes, runs a hand down his face, and sighs.

Great. Just exactly how he didn’t want things to go.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he murmurs, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible. Doing his best to sound fine. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sit up quickly on the couch, letting the blanket fall to the floor. You rub your eyes and force yourself to fully wake up.

Leon came back home.

Alive.

The moment you look at him, you understand why he didn’t want to wake you.

Your gaze goes from his jacket, completely torn and stained with dried blood, to the way he’s standing.

He’s barely staying upright, and he has a hand pressing far too hard against his side.

“Leon.”

“It’s not what—”

“You’re bleeding,” you cut him off, standing as you see him make an effort to walk.

“That was a while ago. I’m not bleeding now.”

“You’re limping,” you say, grabbing him and forcing him to sit on the couch.

“I just twisted my ankle.”

You lean toward the small table beside you and switch on the lamp. Then, you gently take Leon by the chin and tilt his face toward the light.

“Listen, seriously—”

“Don’t come with that seriously right now, Leon,” you snap. You begin examining him more carefully, looking for injuries that might not be that obvious. “You’re pale. When was the last time you ate? How much blood have you lost? When did you last—?”

“Yesterday? And… I don’t know. Do you think I’m still bleeding?”

You start to panic, but you try to hide it.

“Stay there. Don’t you dare move.”

“We can wait until tomorrow,” he says, his words faltering slightly. He coughs, and the sound makes you fear the illness eating away at him. That same illness you were immune to. “Our daughter’s asleep, and you must be exhausted from—”

“Stay exactly where you are,” you repeat. “Don’t you fucking dare to move.”

Leon opens his mouth, but then thinks better and decides to not say anything else.

He lets himself sink back into the couch.

He can’t take it anymore. The pain is unbearable.

He groans, louder now, his entire body tensing.

You hear him not sounding so good and quickly drop to your knees in front of him without hesitation. You carefully open his jacket, but the fabric sticks, forcing you to tug harder to remove it.

Leon grits his teeth, letting out a long breath when the fabric finally peels away from his body, revealing blood that still seems to be seeping from his side.

“Leon… you look like shit.”

“You should’ve seen Gideon,” he replies with a weak smile.

You shake your head.

“I swear, if you keep making comments like those while you’re this bad, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Might be worth it. I like when you’re mad and bossy."

“Don’t push your luck.”

You stand up, and he instinctively tries to follow you.

“I’ve already told you, and I’m not repeating myself: stay there, and don’t you dare move,” you snap, much more firmly now. “I mean it, Leon. This could get worse.”

“It’s not like I’m about to start dancing…”

Leon sinks back into the couch, allowing himself to relax a little. He tilts his head back and, despite your shouted reminders from the kitchen not to even think about falling asleep, he closes his eyes.

For the first time since he left for that stupid mission and ironically, now that it’s over, he feels like he might actually die.

He focuses on the sounds: a door opening at the end of the hallway. Then, the closet. He listens to you moving around, opening and closing drawers, probably cutting gauze with scissors, grabbing the first-aid kit you always keep for emergencies which, of course, happen far more often than you ever anticipate.

“Leon, open your eyes. Is it that hard to listen to me? I don’t want you to die, and—”

He obeys, leaving you mid-sentence.

He doesn’t want to argue when all you’re doing is worrying about him. The truth is, he doesn’t even have the energy to answer you. He feels weaker as time goes by, and for the first time since heading out on that reckless mission, he truly feels mortal.

“Take off your t-shirt,” you order.

“My t-shirt?”

“Yes, Leon. Your t-shirt. Now. Unless you’d rather I take it off for you.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be so bad.”

You shoot him another warning look, and he complies.

He removes his t-shirt carefully, slow and controlled to keep the pain from spiking. You see multiple bruises along his side, deep purple and blue, darkening by the minute.

You also see where the blood is coming from: a cut that looks deep at first glance but isn’t quite as bad, though it’s definitely still bleeding despite all the dried blood around it.

You press gently around the area, assessing the damage.

Leon exhales sharply, cursing under his breath.

“Be careful…”

“That’s what I’m trying to, but I need you to don’t move,” you reply, softer now. “The blood’s coming from a cut that’s not as bad as you think,” you explain. “And, from what I can tell… I’d say you have several ribs that aren’t broken, but they’re definitely cracked.”

“I figured, yeah…”

“Didn’t you think about telling me all this earlier?” you ask, somewhat annoyed.

“You asked me if I was bleeding. If you’d asked about my ribs…”

“Leon Scott Kennedy: can you stop your stupid humor at least for a moment?” you snap. “This is serious. God, I swear you’re impossible…”

“And yet, look at you: 20 years and still married to me.”

You’re about to reply again, but it’s pointless.

Instead, you choose to stay silent and clean his wound. You work in complete silence for a while, and Leon seems to respect it. He simply watches you: the way you frown when you’re focused, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear without even realizing it…

Your husband is in pain. He’s dizzy. He feels like, if you keep treating the cut, cleaning the blood, and making sure to protect his side, he might definitely die right there.

But at least he knows he’s now there, with you.

“You scared me.”

That confession catches you both off guard.

You leave the blood-soaked gauze on the small table and straighten up.

Leon swallows nervously.

What is he supposed to say, when you’re absolutely right?

“I swear I did everything I could to not wake you…”

“That’s not what I mean, Leon,” you interrupt.

He shifts on the couch, uncomfortable, unsure whether it’s because of the pain or the conversation he knows you’re about to have.

You say nothing. You’re completely focus in securing a piece of gauze with some hydrogen peroxide and tape over the area that was bleeding, then offering him a glass of water and way too many painkillers.

Luckily, Leon takes them without protest.

“The thing is…” you stand up. You don’t know how to keep talking because you don’t want to worry him more, especially not in his condition, but… You’re trembling. “One of these days you’re going to come home and I won’t be able to help you. Yes, you know that when the government took us after what happened in Raccoon City they gave me medical training, but I’m a journalist, Leon. A journalist doesn’t know how to save lives, love.”

Leon reaches out with his left hand and takes yours.

You notice it doesn’t look as bad as it did before, but… a bit better.

Much better, actually.

You decide not to ask him for now.

“I came home,” he tells you calmly. “You know I always come home.”

You look at him. Really look at him, and all the reproaches you had in mind disappear. Instead, all you feel is pity for him.

You see Leon tired, vulnerable. 

Worried.

“The DSO doesn’t pay you extra for coming home alive, love…” you say, stroking his hand with your thumb, trying to soothe him.

Leon smiles faintly.

“Well. At least I try. Maybe Sherry will convince them after what we’ve achieved—”

“Mom? Dad?”

You both freeze.

“Fuck…” you whisper, closing your eyes.

Your daughter appears in the living room. Her hair is completely messy, and she’s wrapped in a blanket. She’s not wearing her glasses, and you know she probably can’t see much.

“Dad? Are you finally back?”

Leon straightens up a little, forcing a smile.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says tenderly, as if your daughter weren’t already 20 years old. “Go back to bed.”

She squints to see better.

You recognize the panic on her face when she realizes how bad Leon looks.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” both your daughter and you say at the same time.

Hope and you look at each other and can’t help but laugh at how in sync you are. 

Leon, however, just sighs, though he laughs a little, too.

You point toward the hallway at your daughter.

“Bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Did the mission go well? The one about that girl, Grace?” Hope asks, worried and insistent. “I talked last night with aunt Claire and with Sherry, and they told me that—”

“Hope Kennedy: we’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

This time it’s Leon who insists and, despite hesitating for a few moments, your daughter finally nods.

“Okay, fine. Good night.” She turns to leave and then turns back to look at you. “You better not die today, old man.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Leon replies just as sarcastically.

“Dad.”

“I’m kidding,” he quickly adds. “Good night. We love you.”

You say nothing else until you hear her bedroom door upstairs close.

You let out a sigh and return to what you were doing: trying to make Leon as comfortable as possible. Now, kneeling in front of him again, you focus on wrapping a bandage so the taped gauze won’t come loose. You also apply some ointment to the areas that look a bit darker, and that you know hurt more than he wants to admit.

“You’re sleeping alone tonight. I’ll help you go upstairs now.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, confused.

“Because I’m hurt?”

“Yes, Leon, because you’re hurt,” you confirm. “Besides, you snore a lot when you’re on painkillers,” you joke. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and the smile he gives you suggests he finds that funny. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I think I can manage sleeping on the couch for a few nights. We’ve slept in worse places.”

“Love…”

You stand up and begin gathering all the supplies you used, putting them back into the first-aid kit as neatly as you can, even though your hands are trembling too much.

You’re nervous.

He could have died.

You try to push that thought out of your head.

You sit down on the couch, facing him. You tuck your legs beneath you and try to relax now that Leon seems much more comfortable and, above all, no longer on the verge of passing out. 

Even so, you stay alert.

“So…” you begin, not quite sure how to bring it up.

“So… what?”

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to guess again?”

“It was a complete disaster, love… I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” he admits.

Leon sighs and then looks down the hallway.

“Leon…”

You take him by the chin and make him look at you.

“That’s not the answer I want. I think you already know that.”

“It was all supposed to be easy, you know, like we talked about: stop Gideon, rescue Ashcroft… and that’s it,” he recounts. Nothing you didn’t already know. After all, you and Sherry were the ones investigating everything Grace and Guideon related. “But things went wrong.”

“Yes, that’s what usually happens,” you mutter.

“And Grace…” Leon continues. “Fuck, she was scared as fuck. She’s just a kid, love…”

A knot forms in your throat.

You know why he’s saying that. And that’s exactly the same reason it makes you nervous.

“But she defended herself, you know? I figured she was smart, you know… with all this FBI stuff… But she really did everything too well to obviously have never been in a situation like that before in her life,” Leon explains. “I guess that’s why she was still alive when I got there.”

You don’t answer because you know he wants to keep talking, even if he hesitates.

“She reminded me of Hope,” he admits quietly. “Especially with how stubborn she is. I don’t even want to imagine what’s going to be with both of us when she’s a few years older…”

“God help us,” you laugh softly.

“She wouldn’t stop asking questions. Especially…” Leon continues. “She mostly asked me about Raccoon City when we were there. About what really happened.”

You tense up, uncomfortable.

“And you didn’t answer her, obviously.”

“I told her enough,” he says. “She was seeing it all for herself… but I couldn’t hide certain things from her. You know what I mean.”

Oh, you definitely do.

You know he doesn’t want to talk about it when he closes his eyes and says nothing for several minutes that, without you realizing, turns into almost an hour.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but you realize you have when you see your phone says 4:13 a.m.

And if you remember correctly, Leon got home around 1:38 a.m.

Leon.

You see he’s still beside you, his head resting against the back of the couch and his hands on his bare stomach. You shift slightly to touch his forehead to check his temperature. Thankfully, he’s not as warm as before and, judging by the steady rise and fall of his chest, he seems much calmer now the medication seems to be working.

“I’m awake, love,” he tells you softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, his voice hoarse. “I was the one who didn’t want to wake you.”

“But—”

“I told you before: you seemed exhausted. You needed to rest more than I did…”

“Come here.”

He interrupts you, extending his arms so you can lie against him. You do, doing your best to not hurt him more than necessary.

Unconsciously, you slide your hand gently over his collarbone.

His breathing shifts slightly, and you notice immediately.

You pull away from him at once.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he replies.

His voice is much deeper now.

28 years knowing each other, 22 years dating, and 20 years of marriage are more than enough for you to know what’s going through your husband’s mind right now.

You arch an eyebrow, scolding him.

“Leon…”

“I missed you,” is all he says. 

You know he means it, but still…

“You were only gone three days,” you reply. “And just now I was asleep, here, with you, on the same couch.”

“Please, love: I miss you when I go training, and that’s three hours a day. How am I not going to miss you after being gone for three fucking days?” he insists.

“Leon…”

Your husband shakes his head and, to your surprise, carefully shifts on the couch and turns toward you to lean in and kiss you on the lips.

“You know… that didn’t hurt. You patched me up well, Doctor Kennedy.”

“You’re impossible, honestly…”

You don’t give him time to say anything else.

Instead, you’re the one who leans in to kiss him.

Leon’s hand instinctively slides up to your waist, his fingers gripping the fabric of your pajamas out of pure muscle memory.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, only pulling apart to catch your breath before kissing again.

You notice how hard Leon’s getting. He lets out a groan that’s far too loud, unable to stop himself.

“Leon, be quiet…” you pull away from him just enough to kiss him again.

“What? Love, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now…”

You force yourself to pull away even though all you want is his lips on your neck, just like he was about to do.

“Hope,” you say as quickly as possible. You didn’t want to, but… you need him. Now. “She might hear us…”

“Right… Sorry, but I need my wife…”

God, he was definitely impossible.

Impossible, and crazy in love with you.

“Are you telling me you have cracked ribs, you almost bled out, I’d swear you had a fever not long ago, and you still want to have sex with me?” you ask, laughing under your breath as your hands move over his chest. “Not to mention Hope could catch us…”

“If we’re quiet, I guarantee she won’t notice. It’s not the first time we’ve done this,” he replies, sliding his hands down to your ass and squeezing it. You moan. “I think you can control yourself at least a little, right, love? Could you do that for me?” 

“Seriously, Leon…”

“Fuck, love, you have no idea how much I love you…” he runs a hand over your waist again. “I love you. God, I love you so fucking much…”

You take his face in your hands, caressing his cheeks.

You notice his neck is completely healed, and you’re not quite sure why.

Leon realizes what you’re doing, so he grabs you by the waist and pulls you onto his lap, not caring how much you scold him about the damage he could cause himself.

He swears he’s perfectly fine, but you know he’s not.

You just know he needs you as much as you need him.

“Do you really want to…?” you ask softly, still running your hands over his chest and arms.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I want to do this… just like when we were young. Nothing has changed, except…”

“Everything has changed.”

“Not that I regret it, though,” he smiles, tilting his head as he begins to massage your tits over your pajama shirt.

“I don’t think your ribs would agree with us having sex tonight…”

“Fuck my ribs. I want to fuck my wife and make her feel good.”

“Leon, you’re hurt and exhausted. I don’t think—”

“Come on, love: like when we were young, alright?”

“You’re not making this easy…” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know. Sorry.”

His fingers start lightly playing with the fabric of your pants, not pulling, as if testing his next move.

“Leon… Control yourself,” you tell him, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“I’m trying, but fuck… You’re not making it an easy job for me…”

That’s when you decide to get off his lap and, instead, kneel in front of him.

You look at him steadily as you place one hand on his knee and bring the other to the button of his pants, undoing it with as little clumsiness as possible.

“You don’t have to do this…” Leon tells you.

“I know, but I want to,” you reply calmly. “Just like when we were young, remember?”

Leon lifts himself slightly to make it easier for you to remove his pants and boxers.

His cock, fully erect, is left exposed.

You take it in your hands, determined, and begin to stroke it, earning several moans from him, all of them whispering your name.

You give his length a long, slow lick, never taking your eyes off him.

“God, love…” he says much louder than he should.

“Leon…”

You hollow your cheeks and take his cock into your mouth. You trace his veins with your tongue, increasing the speed while using your hands to stroke what doesn’t fit, also moving to his testicles to give him as much pleasure as possible.

Leon throws his head back, placing his hands in your hair as he slowly guides your movements until the pleasure he’s feeling, what you’re making him feel, makes him give in and surrender completely to you.

You see one of his hands gripping one of the cushions tightly. That motivates you to go even faster, licking the tip of his cock when you feel the pre-cum leaking.

He’s close. You can tell by the way his breathing becomes erratic. How his words shift from quiet moans to a stream of praises about how good you’re making him feel, how much he loves you and, above all, when he tells you to pull away because he’s about to come.

You don’t, of course, because you know he loves coming in your mouth.

And, of course, today is your husband’s day.

You take his cum eagerly as the orgasm completely overtakes him.

“Fuck, love, I’d forgotten this was so…” he says, adjusting himself while, carefully, you climb back onto his lap after removing your pants and underwear. Leon looks you up and down and bites his lip. “Fuck, love…”

“We had sex four days ago, Leon,” you reply, leaning down to kiss him on the lips as you begin to seek friction against his still-erect cock.

You can’t hold back any longer.

You take Leon’s cock in your hand and, after aligning it with your entrance, begin to rock your hips.

You focus on going as slow as you can, trying to keep a steady rhythm. Leon simply smiles, noticing your intention, massaging your tits and kissing you to quiet your moans, which are growing louder.

Leon moves his hands to your hips to help guide the pace as it gradually increases. You feel the pleasure building inside you, so you bury your face in your husband’s neck, taking the chance to leave bites, kisses, and small marks that will likely darken over the next few hours.

“I love you so much, Leon…” you try to say, consumed by moans and pleasure. “You have no idea how much I love you…”

You feel your pussy begin to tighten around his cock. Leon, though exhausted and barely able to handle his own body, does his best to reach your clit, starting to rub it and push you toward release.

“Keep going, love, don’t stop…” he encourages you, even though you’re already trembling on top of him, clinging to his neck to keep from falling, completely focused on Leon. “God, I love you so much…”

You hold back your orgasm so that you and Leon can come at the same time, but it only takes a few more thrusts, much deeper and more deliberate, for you both to finish together.

You collapse on top of him. Leon kisses your forehead, then your cheek, still stroking your waist.

“God… You’re incredible,” he whispers softly, unable to stop looking at you.

“You must be half drugged from the medication,” you joke. “How do you feel?”

“Right now?” he takes the hand resting on his cheek and kisses the back of it. “Much better. I’m safe, at home, with my wife and my daughter. Not to mention the sex session we just had…”

“Leon,” you take his cheeks in your hands and force him to look at you. “I’m serious. Don’t make those kinds of comments when I’m actually asking how you are! Do I have to remind you that you almost didn’t make it home alive?”

“Good thing I have a doctor…” You glare at him, and he corrects himself. “Pseudo-doctor, journalist, whatever you want to call it… but a super sexy one, always ready to help me out with everything.”

“Until I don’t know what to do,” you reply.

“Then you’ll be my super sexy chauffeur and drive me to the hospital.”

“You’re hopeless, Leon Kennedy…”

“At this point in our marriage, you should know me,” he shoots back. “We’ve known each other for almost 30 years, in case you forgot.”

“That’s why I haven’t yet asked why it seems you’ve stopped being infected with—”

You force yourself to stop before finishing the sentence.

Leon’s expression hardens.

He looks away from you again.

You know he’s hiding something.

“Leon…” you insist, even though you know it’s useless.

He takes you by your waist and gently lays you down on the couch, positioning himself carefully over you.

“Leon, you shouldn’t move like that. You’re going to hurt yourself and—”

“I promise.”

You stare at him, confused.

“What? Leon, whatever’s going through your head, you’d better—”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow what happened. Everything. I promise you.”

He points to his neck.

Then, he raises his hands to you.

You know what he means with that.

“I just want to be here with you, calm, doing nothing and… just enjoying ourselves,” he says. “I don’t want to think about anything else, love. Please… I don’t want to think anymore tonight about the times I’ve almost lost you. Let us be just like when we were young.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback on the comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated but, if you feel shy, just send me an anonymous ask! 💖 This will be a safe space and I won't share any of RE9 spoilers, so don't worry! Take care of spoilers out there, and PLEASE: if you stuff, use spoiler warnings and be empathetic to those who want to wait for release date!