Data centric episodes are like. Data has a dream. Data bakes a pie. Data gets tortured. Data makes a new friend. Data writes a poem. Data’s daughter dies. Data plays pretend. Data practices violin. Data almost kills someone.
What about Luke? I still imagine him as an Special Agent from the 80s and this would absolutely be his fit. Of course all black 😎 This is really my all time favourite AU 🤩 still thinking about writing a fanfiction myself 🤔😅
summary: The idea of being married to Leon is… suitable and appropriate. He’s an older, strange cop whose presence gives some people the creeps, but apparently he is just an individual. All you seek is an opportunity for a better life… even if it might mean shattering his peace. But he shouldn’t worry, should he? You’re a good woman, after all, and the arrangement is only proper.
word count: 12.8k+
tags: arranged(ish) marriage, significant age gap (i imagined re9!leon but it's up to you), SMUT, NSFW, leon is a regular cop here, reader is a painter, lots of yearning and leon being desperate (and amazingly pathetic), he's a big and very afraid softie, unhealthy family dynamics, family trauma, smoking, drinking (mentions of leon's alcoholism & coming home drunk), hinted masturbation, talks of virginity, oral (fem receiving), fingering.
tittle and quote comes from anemone, the brian jonestown massacre
“What do you mean you are marrying Leon? As in my boss Leon? The Leon S. Kennedy?”
You must have grimaced, because some hope sparked on the boy’s face. He probably thought that it was all just a big misunderstanding and nothing serious has happened.
Well, an hour ago you asked yourself if you were serious about it.
And hell, you really were.
“I'm…” you tried, but eventually just shook your head and looked down. “I'm sorry, it turned out that way.”
“What?”
The concussion that the tone of his voice caused made you straighten your back again.
Tim was a nice man. Truth be told, more like a ‘nice young boy’. Your age, but actually far more childish. There was some charm to it, sure, and you enjoyed his company… But that was it. You never intended to hurt him.
He didn’t look hurt, though. It was just pure shock. He stood there in front of you with his head hanging low so he could meet your gaze. He was struck and you couldn't really blame him. In fact, you weren't very accustomed to the big thought yourself.
This whole situation right now was rather ironic, and you didn’t realize it before. If you had planned it to turn out that way it could even be considered as cruel. But you hadn’t, not at all.
Tim was probably thrilled when you asked him to come here. Meeting in an abandoned barn – it sounds clearly suggestive, doesn’t it? You weren’t naive, but it didn’t strike you at first as something that lacked innocence… Well, you were painfully aware of that now, when he stared at you so intensively, like he was struck by lightning.
You could imagine he expected you two to make out, perhaps it could lead to something more, but this? This wasn’t even a nightmare, it was just-
“God, what the hell are you talking about, Y/n?”
There was something new to his voice. Rebuke. Shame. Like he just realized he was being played and mocked.
It made your eyes sting, and for a moment you felt like choking up on air.
“I never meant to hurt you, but we’re not even…” you tried to reason with him, but could see it was pointless.
You moved your head to the side at the sound of a rattling engine. Only now did you notice the heavy rain that began a few moments ago and turned the dusty neighborhood into a dirty one. A damn sad metaphor of how you felt. When you tried to wipe the dust off of your dreams and needs, someone decided to pour a bucket of cold water on your head. Eventually, even if you did nothing wrong either to Tim or yourself, you did feel dirty.
It all could be a big mistake born out of despair, but you already made up your mind. Also, here he was.
Leon.
You could recognize his truck even by the sound at this point. He was waiting just outside – thoughtful as he was, he pulled over as close as he could so you wouldn’t have to walk in the rain. You were half convinced that if you didn’t tell him that you wanted to speak to Tim completely alone, he would walk inside with an umbrella or at least to offer you his jacket. That was the kind of man he was.
You were sure that even now, when he was sitting in his car so close, he turned his head away in an unrequested, silent way of respecting your privacy. Despite that, he was calmed by the idea of proximity; he didn’t consider the boy aggressive, but he always could be wrong. If he was, Leon would be there to interfere, stopping the rookie cop that was technically his subordinate…
“I’m sorry, really,” you muttered, before passing Tim. “I have to go.”
You were glad he didn’t say anything else. It was hard to take as it was, anyway. Yet, when you left the barn and opened the door to Leon’s truck, everything suddenly seemed easier. You didn’t know if it was his presence – probably not, because the poor man was tense with nerves – or the familiar space that reminded you of safety… It worked miracles.
You managed to smile at Leon, more honestly than you imagined you could.
He saw the drying tears, though.
“Problems?”
“Not really, no.”
“You, uhm–” he tried, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “You told him?”
“I did.”
Now his head snapped to you. It was hilarious in a way. Wasn’t that what you agreed on? What you said you would do?
“So you are serious about it,” he let out in hidden surprise. At least he thought it was hidden.
You couldn’t help but sigh. A poor attempt of hiding that you were genuinely shaking at the idea that he was hoping you only messed around and joked.
“You thought I'm not?”
You wanted it to sound like a dare. Like an annoyed provocation for him to decide. Be a man and say what he wished to.
But it didn’t work. It sounded like a pathetic plea. Again.
“I don't know what I thought,” he explained quickly. “Let's just… find a place to sit and talk it out. Sounds good?”
His hand instinctively moved up to your face and his knuckles brushed over your cheekbone. It amused you over and over again, that the hand that belonged to this cold, steady cop, shook whenever it raised to touch your skin.
You breathed in heavily, and he immediately hesitated, trying to pull away. You managed to catch his wrist in your soft grasp, though, and keep his palm on your face for a moment longer.
“Yeah, sure,” you agreed, and he nodded his head while returning the smile of strange relief.
You didn’t know yet if he had anything to be relieved about, but you certainly did.
Well, you hoped so.
It was… convenient. A way to escape unwanted responsibilities, the future filled with inheriting the land and being miserable for the rest of your life. If you had any money to your name, you would be long gone, out in the city, maybe even studying.
But you had close to nothing. Certainly not enough to maintain the comfortable living your parents granted you.
What you hoped for was a respectful husband who would at least make your life easier if he couldn’t make it less boring. That was your only wish: to be stripped of the sharp expectations and judging you knew from the moment you were big enough to understand words like duty, heritage, and career.
If there was at least something grand to inherit… And if you didn’t have any passions to replace.
Leon took you to a coffee shop on the outskirts of the town. Before you could even say anything, he jumped to explain – it wasn’t that he was hiding, not at all! He just thought you might want to do it without people’s eyes on your back.
“So, um…now that it's settled,” he spoke up right after he passed you his coffee. He didn’t admit it, but he was too nervous to swallow anything, let alone a hot, bitter drink. “Why did you choose me?”
You almost laughed, and the corner of his lips flew up, probably realizing that it sounded a bit ridiculous. It made you feel like a hunter or something close to it. He knew you weren’t just taking your pick like that.
Not that you were in touch with many men, anyway. It was too annoying to do with your parents over your shoulder…
And then it got to you.
“You're asking because of Tim today, right?”
He shrugged, and tried to hide how red his neck and ears turned, by moving his head to the side. Pathetic attempt, really. He only proved that he didn’t want to meet your eyes whenever he felt too self-conscious.
“I suppose,” he admitted with surprisingly little worry, for how he acted. “He's your age. He knows you. I… Can I be blunt?”
“Please.”
“Honestly I think I'm too boring for you,” he said, like it was a truth he wanted to hide. Like it pained him, but hiding the reality from you was even worse.
“You are not,” you assured, knowing full well that there was nothing you could say to convince him to change his mind. At least for now.
“I won't be offended if you say yes, but is it the money? The…”
“The feeling of safety?” You offered, aware that he would probably choose different words. “Partially, I think…”
He nodded, quite pleased. He appreciated the honesty, he always did.
“Leon, you are the only person in this town that I don’t feel the need to be cautious around. I don’t have to lie to you to feel comfortable. Of course, I thought about you being reasonable, but it’s more–”
“I want to believe that I am,” he cut in, feeling brave enough to slide his hand your way, and play with your fingers when you offered him yours. “Reasonable, I mean.”
You smiled sadly at the conflict in his voice.
“This decision makes you question it, doesn’t it?”
He looked up immediately, and he felt terrible for making you feel that way. How could he make his girl think it was her fault?
“I did not say that.”
He didn’t have to.
“I know,” you claimed softly.
But was he truly reasonable? Wasn't this whole idea just messed up and desperate?
It was almost a year earlier when you first talked to Leon. You knew him as a guy from the neighbourhood, the local cop… You saw your father talking to him a few times, but that was it. You would never predict that you would find yourself tangled with his future in any way.
And hell, he did feel the same. You were just a young girl he wanted – no, he was professionally obligated – to take care of. He wished to make sure you were safe and unharmed.
He stopped you without really knowing why. Perhaps he had a bad day and wanted to let his anger out on someone close to innocent.
Something twitched in him, though, when he saw a young woman, and it held him back from being raspy. He could also see how terrified you were. He would really be an asshole if he took advantage of it and made your day shitty, just because his was.
You were truly in terror. You knew his reputation, how people said he's indifferent to explanations and everything. He was a dick, you heard once or twice after he took the keys from a drunk driver… Like it wasn’t his job to do.
“M'am, how are you doing?” He greeted politely, getting to the side of your car.
“Hello sir…”
It was easier to explain everything immediately. He would know anyway. That the car wasn't stolen, just borrowed from your dad and that you, in fact, had no driver's license on you.
“Not on your person right now or you don't own one in general?” He pried, one of his eyebrows frowned.
Well, your weak smile had to be enough of an answer. He sighed heavily, but patted the side of your door reassuringly while telling you to not stress about it too much and wait.
‘Not stress about it.’ You were literally driving without a license… You imagined it was a cruel way to tease you before he would cuff your hands behind your back and drag you to the station.
He came back a while later and there was no vicious smile on his face.
“Hey, uh… I feel like I know you,” he tried to strike up a conversation. “Better than just seeing you around town.”
“The church?” You offered.
“No, no. I don't really- I don't really go.”
“Lucky man, huh?” He chuckled at the dry attempt of a joke. “Oh, I know. You saw me with Tim. He applied as a desk worker at your station recently. I was there once or twice.”
“That would be it,” he agreed, snapping his fingers. You noticed that he had a kind smile. The one good men wear when they want to make people more comfortable and have no business in it. “You and Tim… boyfriend-girlfriend stuff?”
“I wouldn't call it that. Friends, perhaps?”
“Mhm…” he hummed, looking over some papers for the last time. “Alright, young lady, I won't cause you much trouble.”
“No?” You asked with hope.
“Not at all. You just need to promise me to drive straight home, yeah? And not do it again… as much as possible.”
“Yeah,” you breathed out heavily. “Yeah, sure. Right.”
“Are you alright m'am?” He lowered his head on your level and his voice changed to a more worried one immediately.
Oh yeah, the nerves were getting to you now.
“N-no, I mean…”
“Have you been drinking?” He asked seriously, yet still like it was only your well-being he cared about.
“No! God, no, I'm just nervous … sir.”
“No need to,” he assured. You could see that he was troubled by some thoughts now. “Hell, I feel bad letting you drive in that state.”
“I will be fine. Promise.”
“Mhm, no doubt.” He sent you a smile that said he was absolutely unconvinced then he looked around. “I'll drive you.”
“Sorry?”
“I’ll leave my car under the station, and walk to work on Monday. It ain't that far. Anyway, about the car that you ‘borrowed’... I can explain a thing or two to your dad in case he’ll be mad at you.”
You weren’t stupid. Normally you would feel suspicious about an offer like that, but he didn’t dare to move, and kept his tone respectable, lacking anything suggestive.
“No, my parents are out for the weekend,” you said honestly. “And… how will you get home from my place?”
“I take a walk. No bother. Is that alright with you, m’am?”
“Okay.”
You moved from the driver’s seat to let him in.
He was a cop after all, right?
You talked on the way, and somehow it changed to the ridiculous topic of your future. He gave you a ride a few more times in the following weeks and every time the conversations grew more and more comfortable.
Leon found himself taking the road next to your house more often, and you more often sat in the front of your house, pretending that you weren't waiting for him at all. When he was patrolling your area you sometimes hung out with him, and every single time he complained like you were actually forcing him to take you. You never did. He stopped nearby on purpose and looked around for you.
He heard everything about the fights, the cold hand that you knew at home. Whenever the emotions left you were apologizing for oversharing and bothering him. He didn’t mind, he always said, he was there for you.
Fuck, it was hard not to overshare when you knew so little true care in your whole life.
One day you simply spat out that you couldn't do it anymore and that if you won't find a way to get away from that house, you would throw yourself from the window.
Or you would go to jail for slaying your father.
He stilled, then laughed uncomfortably, then went quiet again and caught your hand that laid in your lap. The touch sent a spark through your body, despite you being focused on stopping the tears.
You were sitting in his car in an almost empty parking lot, late in the night. The bags from a shitty takeout you had were scattered over the backseat. There was no reason why any of you should be here. It was Leon’s free day, and he still stopped by to pick you up…
“God, what are you talking about, darling? Just…” He opened his mouth without a sound when you moved your head to look at him, and he saw your shining eyes full of worry. “Just let it out now, yeah? What happened?”
“Nothing! It's not… I'm just tired. I don't want to do that anymore.”
“Alright,” he agreed, in an indirect praise at you letting the emotions show. “What got you so tired then, sweetheart, hm?”
You told him even more. About the pressure, the disrespect, the sharp looks. Judgment when you spend time with friends, possible husbands, and even worse judgment when you didn't. Complaining about your hobbies. Talks about how you would take over the family business-
“I know people have it worse, I know!” You sobbed, in case he wanted to judge you too. “But it's been like that my whole life. I can't do that alone, I was always on my own, but–” Your anxiety made you a repeating bundle of nerves.
Your shoulders shook, and you were now crying like a child, which only made you feel worse.
Leon fought the tension in his own body and pulled you into his side, gently embracing you with his arm.
“It's okay for now, just… Yeah, cry it out. You are fine here. You’re safe” Knowing it was a shitty consolation he felt the need to add something. “I will help you, I promise. We will think of something. That’s what I’m here for, yeah?”
And then you have cursed him. Sent him to the last pit of hell in that one moment when you looked up at him.
The wet face and grieving eyes made him want to pull you closer, to his lap, and shield you from everything that could ever cause you pain. He never wanted to see that face grimaced in hurt again.
“Marry me and take me away from that place.”
The moment you let it out, an even louder sob escaped your throat. You felt ridiculous. It was all ridiculous. Shame, fury, disappointment…
Yeah, it was mostly shame that made you cry even harder. You covered your mouth with your hand like you didn't want to let anything more stupid out.
But it did.
“Please, I–”
Leon tightened the grip, making your head fall to his chest, and you stained the collar of his shirt with your tears. He hummed incoherently, wanting to soothe you, but he was almost shaking himself at this point.
“Please, Leon, just take me away…”
“Alright.” He didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t mean to agree just like that. It was his fault really, but he couldn't think straight when you clung to his body like that. “Alright, I will. Let yourself cry, and then we can think what to do, yes?”
He only wanted you to calm down. Yet, he never backed up from the agreement. He never offered a better idea, a more reasonable way to fix your problems.
It made you think that the thought of making you his wife wasn’t so bad to him at all.
And if only you could know how thrilled it made him feel.
Here you were. Dressed in a gown rather tight and far too short for your liking, but that's what your mother picked. You silently judged her choice that now clung to your body while she talked your ears off.
She chipped and laughed. It all made you grieve the mother that you could have if only she found you interesting enough… But she didn’t. You snorted straight at her face in an attempt of an ironic laugh. You had to put yourself into a wedding dress to be worthy of her attention.
Yet, she taught you to never settle on mere mercy. So why would you?
The day of your wedding was marked with the dry summer turning into a horrendously loud storm. Two lone tears that flowed down your cheek were nothing compared to the downpour outside the chapel. You thought them to be unmeaningful, unnecessary. It was nothing.
Yet, Leon noticed, just like he noticed everything.
You always viewed other people’s perceptivity as a risk. Something that would make hiding the awful details of your person even harder. Still, it turned out to be a strange, but not unwelcomed feeling to be seen and not judged.
Leon wiped the tears off your cheek with carefulness that should be reserved for some fragile piece of porcelain. He was a man who could barely hide his nerves in front of you. It was amusing, considering that you saw him in critical situations during his shifts, where he was a perfect statue; still, calm and unbothered. Now you could see the expression of concentration and worry morph into something close to adoration.
You didn’t even notice the reason why his mood shifted. You didn’t register your own smile that followed the tears almost immediately.
The memory of your father’s face when you told him made you grimace, though. His opinion had no real impact anymore. You have chosen already and nothing that he could say would change it – he knew it as well, which made him less willing to scream and spat orders.
All he could do now was mock.
“Kennedy? The officer?” You nodded, but he kept asking. “You’re joking…”
But your mother was now, strangely, on your side. You couldn’t remember the last time she backed you up on something, and now she was thrilled. The excitement made her look decades younger.
“Honey, that’s–” she tried to cut into your father’s serious words with a forced smile.
“The old man Leon Kennedy?” The man pried, his voice turning rougher.
“He’s not…”
“He certainly is a mature person. Isn’t that good?” Your mother continued. You could see the spark in her eye. “Think,” she tried to reason with her husband, cupping his arm, “he will take good care of our girl.”
It felt like you weren’t even there.
“Mature?” He mocked. “You think that a man who wants to trap our daughter into a marriage is mature?”
“Maybe it’s me who wants to trap him?”
They both froze in their places.
You never said something so awful before. You never talked back. Never spoke in an eerie, disturbing way.
Because that was certainly disturbing to your folks…
“You won’t let the man humiliate you, yes?” Your father said firmly, and for the first time he spoke to you like he relied on you.
Not like he cared – he only cared about his name – but he treated you seriously. Not a toy; a real person who could harm the good reputation of her family home.
“I won’t,” you nodded.
Because you weren’t going to. Not Leon, not anyone else. Never again.
Leon’s house wasn't as empty as you expected. He gave you a free hand, well, almost begged you, to rearrange it the way you wanted. He claimed he wasn’t very used to the decor, furniture, and if you want, you should change it.
It was perfectly acceptable though. You didn’t feel the need to get rid of anything, especially after your stuff filled the empty space that was left.
Leon seemed to be silently cherishing your presence as much as you cherished your newly found freedom. A few times you found him standing still, staring at your clothes in your shared wardrobe, or the vanity table that he put together himself. It was your habit to ask if it was alright, if the things didn’t bother him, but after some time you realized that he was the man.
The first person that really wanted you exactly where you were.
Idyll, you could think, and it was, in fact, the best time of your life so far.
The relationship you shared moved slowly, with undeniable softness that was forced by your husband who – which you couldn’t ignore – treated you far too warily. You knew it would be difficult. You didn’t even date properly before… It was all built on an agreement, and it was clearly destroying every substructure that could support a genuine feeling; at least that’s how you imagined Leon’s view on the matter.
Sometimes, during the long, quiet evenings you shared, when you moved on the couch to lay your head on his lap, he tensed like never before. One moment he could caress your shoulders in a sweet way, placing kisses on your temple, and then before you could realize, his back was straightening, and he kept his hands to himself like he was offending you by forgetting himself.
You never once showed him that his closeness was unwanted, but the more you tried to prove him that, the more restrained he was.
Yet, you learned more about him, and he was far more charming now than he was in the first place. If that was even possible. He wasn’t a strange man, certainly not an evil or rude man, like people spoke of him. He was good and lonely by choice, it seemed.
Hell, he even held some sort of fondness for cooking, and you would never expect that of a cop like him. He wasn't very good at it, and you often stepped in to save the situation, but he clearly enjoyed it. It was difficult to get used to him in such domestic circumstances, but you couldn’t complain.
Not that you wanted to.
There was also the matter of money. You could comfortably manage his income. He made sure you always had enough cash and said that you were actually relieving him. Grocery and running the house were never burdens to him, but it didn’t mean he liked it.
You did, reminding yourself that you could reward yourself for that.
And damn, you could live like a princess and still have a lot of savings. Leon was a man who, despite his attempts in the kitchen, ate very poorly, had fresh but few sets of clothes and wasn’t pleased by most material things. If he spent money on something, it was stuff for his truck. The old thing that he desperately tried to save from its imminent mechanical death.
Years of living alone and humbly granted him a small fortune.
He was probably lucky to have a wife like you now, because you were not wasteful nor prodigal.
“Can I show you something?” You asked one Sunday, when he was sipping his coffee and having a cigarette on the porch.
He looked like one of the sun rays himself, despite the exhaust engraved on his face. What a handsome man he was… The light hair that fought the first strays of silver fell into his eyes that twitched at the sight of you. He smiled, almost every time, and the wrinkles made him look like a person who suffered, but finally found peace.
You were afraid that peace was far away from you, though, to not say that it tended to avoid you.
“Sure thing,” he said while dropping the smoke and stomping on it with his boot. Then he picked the thing up, because primo, he was a tidy man, and secundo, he knew you hated it.
Well, at least you pretended to hate smoking. You had no real reason to lie to him, but it felt proper. You were probably hurting only yourself, but you didn’t want to disappoint him.
That’s exactly why you were taking him to the spare room that he declared was yours to take now. You didn’t want him to think that you were wasting your free time… Still, sometimes you thought that you actually were.
You didn’t buy everything at once. It went by small additions to the regular shopping. Some paint here, a brush or two there… And now you had a nicely supplied studio that you have tried already. A canvas with unfinished landscape was comfortably waiting for its turn in the central part of the room.
“I just thought you should know what I do with all the time I have when you’re not here.”
You smiled a little bashfully, then moved to the side to let him pass through the door.
“Hey, you don’t need to explain anything to me. You’re a free wo–” The words suddenly stopped, and you couldn’t make yourself look at him.
“You truly are a painter,” he claimed with unexpected enthusiasm and pulled you to his side when you stepped closer. You mentioned your passion once or twice, but you sounded so indifferent that he thought it wasn’t anything big. And now he was looking at true art. “A magnificent one as well.”
“Oh, please,” you brushed it off.
“That's… just wow,” he said, nodding to one of your works. “You never talked about it much.”
“I wasn't allowed to before and... A habit, you know?”
Yeah, he could imagine.
You decided that this new arrangement was a good moment to… try new things. Adjust, try to act how wives usually did.
Going out drinking with the girls – girls you barely knew and didn't really like – was something unusual for you, but you decided why not try? During the night you understood that they liked you even less, but it was bearable after a few drinks…
It could be it – the alcohol – or the wish to see someone nice and familiar, but you never missed Leon as much as then, when you stood in the parking lot and waited for him to come pick you up.
When he pulled over he said you should have waited inside, and not out in the cold. The darkness did good to hide your puffed eyes and teary glare, and you intended to keep it that way, not wanting to bother or worry him.
“Had fun?” He asked with true hope. He never named it, but he knew you could be shy around certain people.
“It was alright,” you answered, not wanting to dwell. Then an idea sparked in your tipsy head. “Can I… Can I drive?”
It was the first time you were in his truck after getting married, and it was weirdly meaningful.
“Drinking and driving now? Why does it sound like you-” he joked and allowed his hand to raise to play with a lock of your hair.
He tended to do things like this without thinking, like it was only natural, but then he realized what he was doing and retreated. Today he didn’t, even after staring at you long enough to devour the look of your face and seeing what he was doing.
It was like he found some lost courage, some shamelessness he abandoned for long years, and it made you hopeful.
“Please, I'll be careful! I…” A skittish giggle broke out of your throat, making you want to hide your face in your hands. The drinks in your blood clearly worked against you, but Leon’s lovely smile only grew wider, more fond. “You know me. And you will be here the whole time.”
“Yeah, alright, lemme just…”
You moved over Leon’s lap when he slid to let you through. His hands stayed over your waist if you accidentally slipped, and for a moment you thought about backing right into his grasp. You didn’t.
He stayed close, nonetheless, draping his arm over the back of your seat.
“Just in case,” he explained, like you could have anything against it.
He gently fixed your grip on the wheel a few times, even if it was completely unnecessary.
During the whole way you could feel his lingering touch on you. It was soft enough to not distract you, and it seemed like he didn’t really want you to notice. But you did, of course. How couldn’t you if you were waiting for it so damn patiently?
You managed to sober up completely till you walked through the main door, but Leon must have thought differently. He was right behind you all the time, and you could see how his touch always seemed to overtake your movement. He was there, holding your hand when you climbed the stairs, outstretching it so you could hold onto something when he was opening the door… You had zero problems with standing straight and even less with thinking – at least when he wasn’t hovering over you – so it was hilarious to witness.
“If that’s how you care for me when I’m barely even tipsy,” you started, trying to unlace your boots, but Leon stopped you, “then I’m not sure if I want to know how attentive you would be to someone really pissed.”
“The same, if it was you,” he answered quickly and under his breath as he was kneeling in front of you. He gently held your calf, slipping the boot off your feet, and you had to bite the side of your inner cheek.
You couldn't fail to notice that he was stubbornly refusing to meet your eyes now. He was slow. Much slower than he needed to be, like he didn’t want the touch to finish, yet he didn’t look up. His neck, clearly visible to you from the angle, turned red, making you realize he didn’t mean to say what he said. Certainly not so surely.
“So it’s about me?” You pried, and he certainly could hear the grin in your voice.
He played it well – like a real cop used to improvising. His own voice dropped an octave lower when he spoke, and he finally turned his head up. If you drank a bit more you could even miss the slight awkwardness that still creeped on his face. He did a good job hiding it nonetheless.
“Don’t you want me to take care of you?”
He was still kneeling before you and you could feel your hand twitching to travel to his shoulder.
“Quite the opposite,” you said quietly, scared if your voice wouldn’t betray you.
Your husband caught your hand before you could touch him, and intertwined your fingers with his. Standing up, he moved your connected palms up to his mouth to place a soft kiss on your skin.
“Oh, Leon.”
He was a resistant man, but he would have to be a saint to ignore his wife staring up at him like that. He imagined even the toughest of people would cave in… He tried to reason and justify it in his head. He couldn’t. The remorse was crushing him to pieces, but it began later on.
Now? Now there was just the plush feeling of your lips when he finally leaned closer, wrapping his strong arms around your back, placing them over your ribs and shoulder blades, to pull you into him.
You gasped, maybe from the shock, maybe from the follicle of craving finally snapping. He wanted to move away – the careful person he was – but you managed to drape your arms around his neck to stop him. You heard him swallow a whine when you forcefully pushed your mouth to his.
After forcing your desire to the back of your mind for so long, you wanted to cry from the overwhelming sensation. During the time you were married – you didn’t even realize when days turned into weeks – he kissed you softly, respectfully, not like it was his duty but also with the clear show that he was holding back.
Holding back, oh, so terribly.
You allowed a moan to escape your throat when you tried to pull away for a breath, but Leon chased you with his lips. You clung to him even more, feeling like you were almost climbing up his strong figure, when his tongue fought with yours. His desperate grip— The travelling hands didn’t make it any easier to stay calm.
You could feel him everywhere on your upper body, like he couldn’t decide on the part he should hold onto. His fingers moved up to the nape of your neck and hair, then he cupped your jaw on both sides, finally parting and looking down at you.
His thoughts spiraled as he looked for something to say. All that he let on was rapid, heavy breathing. You knew that none of you could name any of this just yet. He was still himself – the man that you somehow made feel like an awkward teenager. And you… the thought of scaring your husband away was just too risky to try.
“Should we…” he tried, hesitatingly as you expected.
He was certainly much better in acts than words…
So acts it was.
You kissed him again, pushing on his broad chest to make him take a step back, further into the room. Before you could think about anything, you tripped over the boots that Leon took off for you but left in your way.
His careful grip was on you immediately. It worked like a trigger for him. He pulled you close, leaving no space between the two of you and basically lifting you in his arms.
Before you could realize you were rushing to unbutton the top of your dress. Leon was right in front of you and all you had to do was lightly push his shoulder to make him sit on the couch. His arms were desperately trying to take a hold of you, like he was scared you would shift away.
If he was so scared of that, then why did he do the same, just a few moments later? Or perhaps he prepared himself for it right from the start, even before you cupped his lips for the first time tonight.
You lifted your dress to comfortably straddle his lap, caressing your face over the side of his neck, up to his ear, temple…
He sucked the skin on your collarbone, hell, his hands twitched to graze over your clothed breast, and yet he tensed up.
“Have you ever–” he tried to speak up, but his voice turned out to be hoarse, too uncooperative. “Sweetheart, can you look at me?”
He moved, pulling away from your chest. He also lightly gripped your hand that was tightening on his muscles and travelled down his stomach.
You were too out of breath to understand. At least at first. The hair sticking to your sweaty skin and the feeling of his stubble on it were too overwhelming…
But eventually it all got to you, and it felt like a punch.
Have you ever been with a man before? – that’s what he was asking.
Of course, he would. He was a gentleman, he wanted everything that’s best for you… And you were so significantly younger. Because that’s why he was so unsure, right? No matter his intentions, you could feel that things changed just now, because of the one, unfinished question.
You knew he didn’t ask because he wanted you to be a virgin… Fuck, you were a virgin, but somehow he still managed to stir some fear into you. Perhaps it was the way he asked. Was it how the ‘respectable’ men said it? How did they demand answers to know if their women weren’t dirtied before? It might have been a sting of womanly pride that made you defensive at once.
Well, it surely did scare Leon right away.
“Does it change anything for you?” You dared him as he tried to fix his ‘mistake’ and caress his fingers over your cheek.
“No! Of course not. I’m not…” He shook his head, and you almost felt bad for how nervous you made him. “I’m not that type of man.”
“I know,” you admit.
With a heavy sight you settled against his chest and after a few trembling breaths he embraced you with his arms. He knew you were seeing a few boys around before the things between you two changed. He never pried to know too much about it, not wanting to appear as a creep.
“There was this one guy,” you spoke up, and he stilled again.
“Tim?”
You chuckled under your breath. It was amusing how conscious he was about his young subordinate that – as you told him, and he believed you – you no longer had anything to do with.
“No… None of the boys from around the town. Doesn’t matter. He wanted to take things further, but I creeped out. So to answer you: no, I haven’t.”
He nodded then moved to look at your face and noticed the displeased expression.
“I’m sorry if I… Y/n, I never wanted to–”
“It’s fine. It’s a sensible question, isn’t it?” Perhaps it was, but he could see you disagreed at heart. You shifted to get off his lap. “I need another drink…”
“Stay,” he said, gently moving you to the couch, “I’ll get you something.”
Yet, he lingered looking over you as you laid down, resting your legs alongside and on the backrest. You closed your eyes with a huff, but you felt a light touch that made you shift your head down.
Leon placed a kiss on your crossed ankles and disappeared to the kitchen before you could say anything.
He didn’t have a single glass of wine that night even though you asked and pleaded for him to join you. He only shook his head with a smile that held something strange to it. What was equally estranged was that he allowed you to get more and more drunk without a single comment, pouring you more wine like he knew you needed it.
It made you touchy again. Your buzzing mind sparked the abandoned hope, and you tried to shift from Leon’s chaste embrace to his lap. He laughed like you were a bratty but adorable child, yet you saw how uncomfortable he was at once. It made you move away – sure, you were drunk, but not drunk enough to willingly force yourself on him.
How could you know that it was not your attention that bothered him? That it was the fear of his own desire?
No matter how firmly you assured him, he still stood up, taking you in his arms to later abandon you in the bedroom. Well, abandon is a strong word for tucking you in and placing a kiss on the knuckles of your hand that laid on the covers. Yet, that’s how you felt.
“I’m gonna stay on the couch. Let me know if you need anything, yeah darling?”
And he was gone before you could gather any strength to call after him.
Leon was inaccessible no matter what you did and how hard you tried. Soon enough you noticed he was also shifting away emotionally, not only when you tried to initiate something.
The only time when you had him groaning for you and silently begging for more was when he came home from work earlier than usual. You had no idea – perhaps the spontaneity of it was what thrilled him.
You were pacing around the kitchen, wearing just the satin bathrobe he gifted you without ever mentioning it. The package you somehow made its way to your wardrobe. He didn’t say anything when he saw you wearing it for the first time, he didn’t smirk; he looked away. Back then you almost choked on air, but you didn’t want to dwell on it. You enjoyed the gift, after all, and only that mattered.
Now you had the strap lazily tied on your waist. Your hair was still damp from the shower you just had, and they stuck to your skin where the robe slipped. Leon stepped into the room to you humming an incoherent melody. His presence made you jump in place, but the shock was quickly replaced by a smile so bright that he couldn’t help but move closer.
He just wanted to peck your lips, hug you as a greeting.
“Hey.”
It was the last innocent sound that left his mouth that afternoon.
His hands moved like they didn’t actually belong to him and soon enough he had you sitting on the countertop as he leaned closer. You urged him to move on, and you saw the state he was in; he was on the edge of his common sense, hands shaking, body stiff, and the twitching presence that pushed onto your thigh.
And then, like a man enlightened by an inner wisdom – or, to be honest, an overwhelming fucking sense of fear – he moved away, almost stumbling over his own feet.
It was a miracle that you managed to catch yourself when you lacked his presence and slipped from the countertop. You stood on shaky legs and looked at him with crushing confusion.
He must have realized how easily he could hurt you, if you didn’t fall so gracefully. His mouth opened in a repressed whimper, and he apologized under his breath until you cut in, saying you were fine.
He shifted to place a quick kiss on your temple. Just that. And he was wordlessly asking you, pleading, to take you here and right now, not even twenty minutes ago.
“I have to go,” he muttered before picking up his abandoned jacket and walking out.
He didn’t come back for the rest of the day.
It made you even more desperate but what was lost – was lost. Right?
You started watching his behaviour and searched for other aspects that have changed. You didn’t find much…
Leon looked down when most women looked his way, yet he never hesitated to stop by an elderly person who needed help. Stray animals followed him, and you saw the bird feeder he built in the back of your yard. He blushed like a teenage boy whenever you caught him doing something soft. He was still the same man.
The same man who wiped your tears, assured you that everything will be fine. The one that agreed to marry you so you could be happy. But how could you if he suddenly started acting like he was forced into the arrangement? He was stiff, constantly worried.
He warned you in the very beginning, and you knew to not expect too much of him. He tried, though, spent time with you, talked, meant to open up… You didn’t know if it was something you said or did that made him stop so out of blue.
Sometimes you called the station late in the evenings to ask if he plans to come back soon, and you were usually met with a long silence from the desk worker, then the polite dismissal.
Once he picked up himself; he was probably the last one there, and it was no surprise considering the hour. He seemed out of breath, like picking up the phone from you – because he knew it would be you – cost him all his energy.
He picked up drinking once more. Not seriously but he told you about his problems in the past, and you feared that would open the path again. His behaviour was undeniably suspicious, and you found yourself more and more worried about him. Obviously, the most coherent thought was that he met someone… that he got bored with the young woman he was forced to care for, and was now cheating on.
It was messed up, the idea made you sick, but even if that was the case, you were still concerned. Much more concerned for his well-being than yours…
You knew Leon would never raise a hand on you. He promised you that once, even though he didn’t have to. He would sooner chop off his own limb. You were never scared of him.
Well, with one short exception. An exception that was followed by an utter realization of how pathetic he actually looked and how much you wanted to make him feel better. You wished you could do that–
He came home drunk again. You knew he would – he always gave you that quick, sad look before leaving in the morning, and it was all you needed to not expect him sober in the evening. He probably thought you didn’t notice.
The drinking never caused you any trouble. Leon was rather brave about it. He never wanted you to aid him and when you did, he looked ashamed. He didn’t turn into an angry man, didn’t scream or demand. Hell, he never even woke you up by stumbling into bed, even when he could barely stand up.
You expected him to be in better condition today. He made his way from work himself, after all. He was responsible enough to stay at the station for the night in case he was too drunk to drive.
“L–Leon?” You felt the shiver on your spine when you noticed him at the doorstep.
Yeah, he could stand up on his own – only one arm resting on the wall to support him – but that didn’t mean his presence was any less eerie. He froze, his shape lingering in place like some higher strength forced him to stay still. It was the sight of his face that truly made you hold your breath. There was pure terror that he bravely tried to hide behind some simple cautiousness.
His eyes rummaged over your figure like he was searching for something. Either if it was a sign of you being hurt or of you waiting for him… you couldn't know.
For the first time in a long time he didn’t look like the restrained and sedated Leon you knew. Despite the fear, he looked like the husband you dreamed of having, that seemed to be so close yet shifted away every time. It would be easier to take if he never gave you any hope. You knew what you were choosing in the first place after all… But here he was once again, with mute beg in his eyes.
“Did something happen, Leon?”
He was trembling on his feet now. His jacket was mindlessly crumpled in his hand, a fist that squeezed more and more with every second he spent on glaring at you. He had red burning scratches on the side of his neck. You knew that to be one of his nervous habits.
Some of his hair was sticking to his face because of the rain and sweat. It almost urged you to step closer and move it away. Gently. Adoringly.
But you didn’t manage.
For the first time Leon looked like he could rapidly step closer, not worrying about scaring you, and rip the dress off your back. At the mere thought you gripped the edges of the countertop that you had your back to.
“Are you–” he muttered, at first barely putting the sounds together. He threw his head back in annoyance at himself. “Are you okay?”
That didn’t clear anything for you. He was trying to sound calm, caring… God, he tried so badly.
“Me?” You asked confused. “Yes… Yes, I’m okay. Are you?”
Instead of answering Leon took a firm yet wobbly step. Only now you could see that he was, in fact, very drunk. He only managed to put on a good face before. You wanted to feel his hands on you nonetheless… as long as he would remember that later, that is.
The unstable walk only made him appear broader. He strolled through the room like a strength that could crush the space with his every step. You only hoped he wouldn’t do the same to you.
You let out a gasp when he dropped to his knees in front of you, instead of pushing you back into the furniture. He hesitatingly wrapped his arms around your lower half and pressed his head to your stomach.
“I’m… Fuck, darling.” He looked up, involuntarily showing you his teary eyes. His trembling lips mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ but no sound escaped his throat for a while.
You couldn’t help but allow your hands to cup his face, brush your thumbs over his cheeks. He subconsciously pressed into your touch, his own arms tightening on your sides. He closed his eyes, and he let out a groan that he couldn’t hold back anymore. A one of exhaust and need.
“I’m such a cold son of a bitch,” he muttered, not daring to move, like the thought of it pained him enough already. You could see him shiver when he finally opened his eyes and looked up to you again. “God, and you–”
“Calm down, Leon,” you tried to shush him softly, but he shook his head. “Nothing is wrong.”
“You’re so good to me, honey,” he stumbled over his words and stretched his back like he wanted to get closer to your face. “You’re damn angelic.”
“Leon–”
“Do you know what it does to me when I get to call you my wife? When people ask? Hell, some of my coworkers don’t even know your name because of how badly I adore the word wife. I’m damn selfish… I– I don’t know what I did to deserve that… and still I act like the last fool–”
You appreciated that he tried to speak up, of course, but now… It would be easier if he shut up and changed instead. You didn’t mean to cut in, make him feel like you didn’t want to hear it, but damn, if he would continue you two will soon both sit on the floor, sobbing into each other’s shoulders.
“Then stop it,” you whispered, knowing it was no consolation.
But for a moment Leon smiled like it was – like it was actually the easiest thing on earth. All only to make his lips tremble again.
“I don’t… I can’t. I don’t know if I–”
“Did you try?”
“Yes. Yes,” he claimed immediately, more firmly than needed. “But it scares me. I– You scare me.”
“I scare you?”
“Yes. Or what you do to me… I don’t know…”
“How about you lay down now, Leon?” You tried to be reasonable.
But he opened his mouth and breathed in like it pained him.
“Say it again.”
“Sorry?”
You wanted to pull him up, but he refused to work with you.
“Say my name again. Honey– Y/n, please…”
You sighed, suddenly not fond of where this was going. You had to get him to bed, safely and alone. His desperate face betrayed that you could lure him to do anything you wanted, but what of it if he would regret it in the morning? If he would feel as if you betrayed him. What then? It felt bad, dirtying as it was.
“Leon. Please, let me lay you down so you can rest,” you asked him patiently, kneeling next to him so you could place a soft kiss on his cheek.
“How is it,” he spoke up again, but this time he allowed you to move him up and lead him to the bedroom, “that you scare me so badly yet you make me feel so safe?”
You chuckled humorously.
“I have no idea. I only wish that one day you will let go of the fear…”
You tried to move on from the things you’ve heard. They were words of a drunk man, after all.
Everything seemed to be against you that night. The couch that you often crashed on was too hard, the fridge was buzzing furiously and sleep refused to come anywhere near you. When you finally managed to close your eyes for an hour or so, you were brutally ripped out of comfort. It was doing of your own body, like it didn’t want to allow you to lose caution. It took you a moment to have a deep, stable breath and blink away the stubborn black dots, the shadows that you saw.
There was no point in trying to drift away again.
Baking in the middle of the night was once your dream – the innocent way of using your freedom that you once could only imagine. You knew that if this couldn’t calm you, nothing would.
Picking up your notes with recipes, you rounded the kitchen. Your head kept spinning, and it had nothing to do with how quickly you moved around.
It was dawn when you finished. A nice smell surrounded the house, yet it wasn’t enough to soothe you. You needed something rough, something bitter and burning at the same time.
You needed a smoke.
Wanting to fetch the pack from a drawer that only you ever opened – or so you thought – you stopped in the middle of the act, noticing that it wasn’t fully closed. And you cigarettes, of course, weren’t there. You groaned under your breath and stepped out to the porch anyway.
You felt bad about slamming the door. It wasn’t loud enough to cause any damage or even wake up Leon from his likely deep sleep, but it was wrong.
Even more when the wood next to you squealed, and you looked up to see your husband.
He was dressed up in a pair of jeans and a shirt with rolled up sleeves. He clearly tried to wash away the sleep, but it was still visible. His face wasn’t wiped carefully enough; there were still some droplets on his neck and the ends of his hair were damp.
“Hey,” he said and cleared his throat. “Nice smell inside.”
“Yeah, I felt like baking,” you offered, too weak to force on a smile.
He took a seat next to you on the bench. Soon enough you could feel him nudging you with his elbow and a pack of cigarettes was shoved almost up your nose. He offered you a warm expression and a lighter in his other hand.
“Oh, no. I don’t smo–”
You had no idea why you were still lying.
“Of course you do, honey,” he cut in, still managing to make it sound polite. “I took it by mistake, thinking it was mine.”
You ended up taking it, tired of the pathetic act. You shared the smoke in a silence that was surprisingly comforting. You lowered your head on his shoulder and he breathed in the smell of your hair.
“You don’t smoke too often either,” you noticed.
He only chuckled deeply.
“More often than I would like to, but at work. I thought it annoys you,” he explained. “But at the station… Yeah, it’s hard not to, especially with all the smokers around.”
He never told you about his job much, saying you're too good to be bothered with that. Sometimes you pried, and it were the only moments when you took a path close to a real argument. He found some stupid excuses that you called on, only making him snap something in anger that was only there to hide the embarrassment.
“I can imagine.”
Your hand trembled when you raised the cig to your mouth, and you could feel Leon’s stare on you.
“I, uh–” He laughed nervously, but you instantly dropped a hand on his knee. It felt like a habit. You already knew what he would speak about, and it felt like your job to assure him he was alright. “I messed up pretty badly, didn’t I? Last night, I mean.”
“Not at all.”
“No, but I,” he argued and straightened his back. “I shouldn’t be allowed to charge into the house like that, drunk, and making a scene like a schoolboy.”
“You weren’t making a scene, Leon.”
If that was what scared him – your firmness and calmness – then you couldn’t do anything to help him. You smiled softly and to your surprise, he didn’t shift away.
“I have nothing against you being vulnerable, drunk or not. Honestly? I wait for you to be, because I don’t want to make you feel… forced.”
He had no answer to it. He scratched his neck, too afraid to say something wrong.
He settled on something safe. On changing the subject.
“We got this invitation…”
“What invitation?”
“The department’s spokesperson asked us all out to celebrate her birthday. She said I have to bring you too, or she won’t talk to me ever again,” he explained with a joking voice. It was nice to hear it after such a long time. “I wouldn’t complain about it, actually, but I would have to talk to the press myself and…”
“We can’t have that, can we?”
“I knew you would understand.
“And here I thought you suddenly wanted me to know more about your work and coworkers…”
“Oh, you know it’s not like that.”
He wouldn't have that, he once said, meaning your ‘nosiness’. But did it matter? What could he possibly do to you? You had a position around. You could have him humiliated, ended, with your one word. You knew people.
It didn't feel like it when you were around his coworkers later that week though. You realize you held a position but where? In the church circle that your parents used to force you to attend?
After that night you should probably send a big thanks to the spokesperson for asking you to tag along. Or buy her a meal.
Or even better – to her and to the man that drunkenly decided it’s a good idea to grab your waist when you stood next to the bar and drag you with him to the dance floor.
You didn’t fight back too much. After all you felt absolutely safe around a bunch of cops – even if their company wasn’t the greatest you could think of.
What you didn’t think of, though, was that Leon’s fist would fly almost right in front of your face and hit the man right in the nose. His coworkers were stunned, absolutely out of words.
The idiot was long forgotten, stumbling away while holding a hand to his bloodied face. Still, the officers watched their boss like he was a ghost. There he stood, a reliable, calm, patient man they knew who just punched a random drunk dude over his young, adorable wife.
Nothing strange, actually, right? “He deserved it,” one of the female officers claimed when she saw Leon was getting embarrassed about it.
Some of them agreed, others kept staring at him in that weird way.
He could bear the looks, but the comments that came after a few shots were much worse.
“I’d watch a girl like her like a hawk too, man.” An unwelcome hand was slapped on his back, and Leon groaned, thankfully the sound was muffled by the music and turmoil in the bar.
“Hell yeah. You found yourself lucky, aye? Old prick like you… Ain’t she bored with you, Leon?”
You watched the shift on his face carefully, and you knew the words got to him. Badly.
“Ain’t she bored with you?” He repeated to you later in the evening, when you walked into your safe home. “How fucking dare he, huh?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you brushed it off with a smile only a little too bright.
You dropped your purse on your way to the living room, kicking away your shoes. During the try to take off your necklace, that was now tangled with your hair, you felt Leon’s presence right behind you. He gently brushed your hair out of the way and worked on the small chain with his callused fingers.
He mumbled something under his breath, still pissed about his colleague’s behaviour.
The necklace was slowly passed to your hand, but instead of moving away, Leon draped a protective arm over your chest, pulling you back into him.
“They mock me anyway,” you said to calm him. “They think I’m a pretty-faced idiot. He wanted to piss you off, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I know,” he grunted, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.
“You shouldn't let him-”
“I don't care.”
He was sure of what he said, leaving no place to argue – because all he cared about now was you. You could feel it in the strange sensation of his fingers moving up, touching your exposed collarbone, while his other hand was wrapped around your waist.
It was an unusual change in his mind. One that made him feel like a boy, almost foolish. Yet it was far too strong for him to stop. He found himself too weak to resist anymore and perhaps – just perhaps – he finally came to his senses.
He allowed the want, the devotion that he held for you, to snap upon an ugly feeling. Jealousy settled in his gut like he had any reason to take the words at the bar seriously. Like a true offense, something that dared to insult not only him, but also his woman. The wife that he has been treating like she wasn’t his.
Now the possessive sense that he fought, thinking it was the only decent way to deal with it, came back twice that firmly, leaving him no choice. Luckily, it didn’t cross his mind to blame you. How could he? It was all his doing and, after all, through all this time he showed you no claim, no will to decide for you – on some days, when he pushed you away it almost seemed like he would be relieved by the idea of you having someone on the side…
But damn it, you were his wife, arranged or not, and you wanted to be.
Why did he forbid himself from understanding that for so long, the fucking lunatic he was?
“What matters is that you’re here now,” he said softly, well, he tried to, “with me.”
The words were whispered straight to your ear, and they made you reach up, to run your palms over the muscles of his arm that was still wrapped around you.
You hummed in agreement, and you would swear he breathed out heavier, holding you tighter.
“Right where I want to be.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm.” You lightly swayed to the sides, making him move with you. “So don’t offend me by turning your attention to some associate with a big mouth, yeah?”
He let go of you, but you were quickly turned around as he offered you his hand. Leon was sitting on the sofa, his legs widely sprawled. He expected you to stand in between, but you had a different plan.
You fought the want to fall to your knees in front of him, knowing it would make him tense, probably scaring him back to his comfort zone. Well, the zone was, ironically, painfully uncomfortable. In a hard, throbbing and embarrassing way. You decided against risking that much.
You wanted to tease him a little though, for all the ache he caused you. You slipped your shirt further down your shoulders lazily, like you only meant to stretch your back. He was looking up at you mesmerized, willing to be caged in this very moment for the rest of his life. Your hand was still in his, and he massaged your knuckles with his thumb.
Wanting to slowly get on top of him, you raised your leg, but Leon’s grip found a way to still it, holding it bent right next to his head, on the level of his shoulder. You felt your short skirt sliding up from the shift, and Leon let his hands wander over the bare skin.
“Why do you allow a pathetic fool like me to lay his eyes on you?” He huffed with a chuckle that he held back and heavy with desire. It was far from the shameful, pained words that plagued him earlier. He was still shocked, yes, but now he intended to use what he was given.
“Maybe I like my pathetic fool looking at me,” you offered cunningly.
“You shouldn’t be looked at that way.”
“No?”
In the moment of boldness his fingers caressed your inner thigh, moving slower but with undeniable audacity he never had with you before.
“No. You’re too good to–”
You interrupted him with a sigh, making his movement freeze.
“What, what’s wrong, love?”
You shook your head with a crooked grin, clearly disapproving of the fact that he thought his touch made you displeased.
“Can you shut up, stop making us both miserable and put an end to my waiting? I’m suffering here, Leon, damn it…”
He surprised you with how fast he had his hand on your shirt and tugged on it to pull you close, closing the space between your faces. You had to bend to him, with his hand still firmly on your leg that was in your way.
You pulled away just enough to speak up and see his blue eyes, once again more resembling a raging storm than the usual calmness.
“I don’t want to hear about being too good, or you being too pathetic ever again. Hear me? I don’t need you to change, just don’t run from me.”
He forced his way through to your lips, but you were stubborn. You pushed his face again, only for a moment.
“And if you really want to…” Seeing that it was a lost case, making you lean into him fully right now, he moved his mouth to your neck, just under your ear. “Leon, can you look at me?” The sound you made was closer to a whine, but eventually, with a groan, he listened. “If you wish to change, then just let me be by your side, yeah? That’s all I wish for.”
“Where did I find a woman like you?”
“Literally speaking, on the side of a road,” you chuckled.
“And who would have thought that roads can be full of girls worth worshiping, hm?”
You rolled your eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder, just in time to not stumble. Leon grabbed your hips and forced you down onto his lap.
“I just can’t hold back anymore, you know?” You did know. He had the upper hand now, and if he did, it meant he was at his utter limit. “All this time, waking up next to you thinking only about one… Do you have any idea how many nights I had to get up to not disturb you and take care of myself?”
His big mouth made you stop in your tracks. You couldn’t decide between salivating at the sight of him so needy under your body, finally assured enough to speak up so boldly, or giggling bashfully in praise.
“And here I thought you’re a lost case, Kennedy,” you muttered and threw your head back when he sucked on your neck again.
While shifting, Leon pulled you closer to relieve you of having to sit straight and not fall back. Before he wrapped his arms around you, you sat further onto his crotch and felt the growing bulge.
“I never truly doubted you, though,” you admit, looking back at him.
“You always have hope for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”
His hand made its way to the zipper of your skirt, but you tugged him back between your legs, simply pulling the tight material up.
“Mm, I try to…”
His eyes have darkened in their intense stare, but you never saw his face so relaxed before. It was the most ravening state he’s ever shown you, yet the most domestic one. Not even laying in his arms at sunrise could compare to that – especially since you always knew he would quickly get up and leave you alone in the bed. Now you hoped it will never happen again.
“Let me apologize to you properly,” he said, already moving you to the couch to kneel before you, “for all the things I’ve done.”
Your hand trembled to get lost in his dirty blond hair and pull him closer.
“What about the things that you didn’t?”
You could feel the jarring of his deep chuckle on your inner thigh. He kissed his way up your entrance but stopped when he heard you mewl.
“Come on, love. Lay back,” he urged you, rather softly.
Especially for a man who’s throbbing boner made it close to impossible to think properly and who had his wife’s pussy right in front of his face. But still, who deserved all of his respect if not his sweet wife?
“Do you trust me?”
“Fuck, yes! Just…” You moved, and your back hit the sofa like he wanted. “More than I should, I think,” you managed to tease, before a moan broke out of your lips.
Leon’s tongue settled between your folds, making you grip on the armrest from the sensation. He moved so perfectly like eating you out was the only thing he practiced ever since your wedding. If you weren’t so out of your mind right now, you would be angry and jealous for everything that’s lost.
Your heavy breath and shaking legs made Leon look up.
“Speak to me, yeah?” He encouraged you. “If something’s not right you gotta tell me–”
“I want you here,” you sobbed, leaving him with no words and an open mouth. Your rushing grip on his shirt and the tug made it clear enough. “Please, Leon. Move up…”
Whatever his wife wishes for, she shall have, no?
His body ached, and his movement was weary, but he managed to stand up with a groan. You shifted alongside the sofa, making him space to lay down between your legs. He supported his upper half to not crush you, his nose brushing your ear. You could feel his hard-on press on your stomach, but he didn’t let you reach down, where you wanted.
He turned his head to capture your mouth in a rough kiss, pressing into you. His hand moved to your middle and after teasing it, one, then two fingers pushed inside.
You bit his lower lip to silence your own moans. It only made him more turned on. He let you do with his mouth whatever you wanted, as long as you were failing to stay quiet. The sounds… God, he couldn’t stop himself. His hips were moving, slow at first, up and down before he could realize and hold back.
His hand pulled out, just to thrust back inside, and he could see the tear falling down your cheek. He badly wanted to wipe it away, to cradle your face in his hands, but they were… quite preoccupied. His other arm was over your head, holding him up.
He hugged his face to the side of yours, placing soft kisses over your temple. You found his bare skin under his shirt, while your other arm curled up on the nape of his neck, holding him close. A particularly loud whine made him grin.
“You like it that way, hon?”
His beard scratched your cheek, and you turned to kiss him again. You could feel the rushing wave of pleasure coming over, but Leon made his touch slower, before giving it all to you.
“Look at me,” he pleaded gently. Funny. You were forced to say the same thing only a few days before. “Y/n… I love you. I don’t say it enough, but–”
If you weren’t crushed under him, your knees would buckle and refuse to work, just like that. You grimaced when his touch stopped. His mind could barely take it, and he was lost in the feeling that he granted himself by rubbing himself on you.
He quickly regained his senses, but his voice was trembling, just like his whole body.
“I do—fuck… I do love you. Madly.”
“I love you madly too.”
The sunset caught you both rather exhausted and flushed, yet still aching for one another. Leon had to swallow his pride and admit he wasn’t the youngest anymore and couldn’t keep up that well. Or rather after confessing it, you had to pull him away from your thighs with force.
Eventually you sat at the porch, tucked in a blanket and the warmth of your bodies.
“We’ll leave this fucked up place behind if you want,” Leon offered without a warning, fixing his gaze on the steaming cup of coffee for a moment. “Go on a trip… See if we ever want to come back.”
He shocked you, but you only nuzzled your head on his chest more.
“It… It makes me lose my mind,” he said," like it was something he tried to deny for a long time. “I know that now. You helped me realize it.”
“What about your job?”
“Fuck it,” he spat immediately.
“Don’t think of me as a materialist who still cares only about your wealth…”
“You care about so much more now, don’t you?” He mocked you with a smile. This bold, wicked, thrilling smile that you were only now getting familiar with. “You care about my touch, about how I–”
“Yes! God, yes, but please shut up. I don’t think I can take it if you turn from teenage-like shame and embarrassment to talking dirty.”
He only laughed.
“All I want to say,” you tried again, “is what will we do when the money ends? Go back with a tail tucked between our legs?”
“Darlin’... You can’t possibly think that I don’t have enough savings, right? That I don’t keep more cash than I could ever spend on my own?”
“Do you?” You dared.
He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.
“If I didn't, I would never agree to marry you in the first place. I needed something to spoil you with.”
a/n: just so you know, that’s not the last fic where I’ll make Leon kneel in front of reader.
anyway my catholic trauma will be with me for the rest of the week and that’s why the smut is so damn CUT. I hope I could give you something more, but I find myself unable to write a good smut (a girl can dream though, maybe one day)
taglist: you all asked to be tagged in the I still dream of violence series, but since my friend is taking her time with part 3, I hope you won't mind being tagged here in the meanwhile!
binged all 8 episodes of Spider-Noir in one day and I'm now captivated by his autistic charm. Nicholas Cage be damned I want that old man carnally. so here's my Noir x reader headcanons. Ben is nebulously late 30s / early 40s in this, it's mostly sfw. will add as I think of more. enjoy <3
a lot of Ben's love language revolves around touch. he always wants to be near you. he'd never admit this, of course, but inevitably no matter where you sit, eventually he finds a reason to sit next to you. and when you're alone he doesn't bother with the subtlety, wrapping his arm around you as you kick back and listen to the radio after a long day.
he's not a fan of 'cutesy' relationship words like "cuddle" or "sweetheart." it doesn't stop you from using them, sometimes on purpose to watch Ben roll his eyes, but he refuses to use them himself. the most you'll get is when he's drunk, and calls you "doll" in what you imagine his inebriated self thinks is a very sexy tone. and you play along to fuel his ego, of course.
not only did Ben not have any interest in starting a family, he wasn't all that interested in sex either. he certainly enjoyed it when it happened, and was rather good in bed too, but even at his flirtiest after one too many drinks, it rarely lead in that direction. your bedroom was really only used for sleeping. however, Ben was definitely a fan of making out. an interest you gladly shared.
you did your best to support Ben's nightlife as the Spider but truthfully, there wasn't much you could do for him. he also didn't like when you got involved. you knew of Ruby, and what had happened, so you never argued with him about it. the most he allowed you to do is give him massages when he was sore from being flung off a building, or encouraging him to cut down on booze. which he begrudgingly obliged.
Trinity Santos walks into the Pitt everyday with a bucket of unresolved trauma, a toxic yuri situationship, and Dennis Whitaker hanging off her belt like a labubu and still manages to serve cunt
guys when I wanna read some attack on titan works I DONT WANT MODERN AU!!!!! 🙏🙏 a bitch is digging in the depths for some non modern attack on titan works😭
PLEASE maybe it's just me but I don't wanna read about it I wanna cry and feel that pain😭😭😭😭
Absolutely fucking rich that Robby thinks Al-Hashimi can’t handle running the ED because she paused twice when working with kids. My brother in Christ you are on the killing myself world tour right now let’s self reflect maybe
stormborns
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2087
pixelskylines
kianamaiart
