You look back at Leon, he's stood in the doorway of the kitchen, your wedding ring clutched in his hand, "What are you talking about?"
"You took your ring off." Leon frowns, looking like a kicked puppy.
"I took it off for the gym and forgot to put it back on. It's no big deal." You shrug, turning your attention back to the stove.
You hear Leon huff.
"To love and to cherish, that was the promise we made, and yet you cast my love aside by leaving proof of our marriage on your dresser." You feel Leon's arms wrap around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.
"I didn't want to lose it at the gym! Quit being dramatic, " You laugh, smacking his arms away.
Leon grabs your hand, a smirk on his face as he slips your ring back on your finger, "Finally," Leon mumbles, his fingers interlocking with yours, wedding rings side by side.
-
Two posts in one night? It's more likely than you think
Leon... leon who comes home after finishing his latest mission, adrenaline still kicking through his veins when he found you sleeping on the bed, clad in nothing but one if his old shirts.
Cut to him just rutting into you, humping you silly all while you sleep, oblivious to it all while leon got himself off, huffing and grunting in your ear, his leaky cock leaving a wet patch against your cute cotton panties.
"Please dont wake up... please baby don't wake up... 'm so close.." he grunted out, a needy whine ripping from his throat as he started at your sleeping face groaning at the sight of his pretty girlfriend peacefully asleep as he neared the edge, before eventually coming all over your tummy.
After finishing, a wave of shame crashed over him as he scrambled off you, hastily wiping his cum off your stomach before rushing to the bathroom to take a cold shower, locking the door behind himself.
The moment you heard the door click shut you opened your eyes, barely able to suppress your giggles as you sat up, your finger gracing over a small remnant of his cum, bringing it to your lips as you liked it off. You'll never let him hear the end of this >:3
Content: smut, p in v, fingering, squirting, alcohol consumption, hookup culture lol
Masterlist❤︎
-
There is nothing better than being fucked completely senseless.
Arguably the best remedy for a chronically overactive mind.
After five straight days of managing passive-aggressive emails and smiling through situations that tested the absolute limits of human sanity, you decided the only cure for this impending mental breakdown was a stiff drink and zero inhibitions on this lovely weekend.
Two shots of whatever was closest, and the company of a man who looked just as desperately in need of a distraction as you, if not more so.
Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.
He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.
He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).
The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.
You offered your name, he offered his (Leon—was it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.
You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.
Hook, line, sinker.
Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.
Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. He’s handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.
What does surprise you is how you’ve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.
Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.
Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that you’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s wrung you out on these expensive sheets.
Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.
Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. You’re sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.
He does it again and again and again until you’re basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.
This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.
There’s a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. He’s actually entertained.
You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."
The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. “You’re shaking so much. It’s cute.”
So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.
“You okay?”
You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. “Have you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?”
He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.
"Are you ever going to?"
His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. “Why, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."
“I’m having a great time.”
“Then what’s with the rush?”
“Maybe we should take a break,” you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. “I-I need to pee.”
He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. “Is that right?”
“Fuck—Leon—” You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. “You’re not helping.”
“I actually am,” he argues.
“What—”
“Let's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?”
You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what he’s asking.
“I’m pretty sure I need to pee,” you reason quietly. “I’m not a squirter.”
He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve never done that before?”
“I have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.”
He looks genuinely offended by your answer. “Do you want to try?”
Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. He’s simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.
Even with the fragments of scars you’ve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.
And you’re very much aware you’re one of the few he’s taken to bed.
But is he always this attentive? This generous?
Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?
You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. He’s just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.
If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?
“You really think I’m about to squirt?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
You frown. “What if it’s just pee?”
He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. “Make a mess then, I don’t mind.”
Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.
“Then make me squirt, Leon.”
He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.
Not enough, apparently, because he’s already moving his hips in rapid rhythms—not too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.
“Fucking beautiful,” he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. “Just lying there looking all pretty."
“H-harder,” you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.
“Yeah?” He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. “You like it when I go hard on you?”
Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when he’s practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.
“I know, baby, I know,” he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Ngh—h—”
“That’s it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.”
The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattles—and you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. “Leon—”
He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.
“Don't fight it.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Your groan is feral. “I can’t—”
“Come on, baby, you’ve got to trust me,” he croons softly. “Do you trust me?”
Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. “Yes.”
“Good. Then let it happen.”
Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.
“Breathe through your nose.”
He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh, fuck—”
“That’s it.” He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. “Let it go.”
You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.
It’s like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame—only for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.
Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.
You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself getting drenched, but you’ve never experienced anything as wild as this.
Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.
He pushes his palm against your clit.
“Oh fuck! fuckfuckfuck—”
A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie there—crying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.
“Should’ve met you sooner,” he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.
Maybe it’s the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.
“Can we meet again?” You pant. “Like—after tonight?”
You’re somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.
To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.
You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.
Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight—and all the days that follow.
.ᐟ.ᐟ ATTENTION re4!leon, car sex, p in v, fem!reader, slapping, asphyxiation, dacryphilia, breeding, orgasm denial, mean leon if you squint (you really don’t have to squint), ‘daddy’ mention, 00’s
─ LEON knows the trouble that could arise from being caught with you in such a compromising position in the back seat of his car.
he just doesn’t give a fuck.
the windows are tinted, it’s all too dark outside and the way you flutter around his aching cock makes it hard to think about anything else. he’s too entranced to guide you; jaw slacked, piercing eyes staring down at the sloppy action under his chin. he watches as he spreads you open each thrust and is almost brought to tears every time he sees your swollen heat ache for him when he backs away. his chest rises and falls heavily at his own lazy pace, abs contracting with each breath, moonlight pouring over his damp skin.
“leon–” you muster up in a broken coo. when he told you to wear something comfortable, what you imagined was only half of what you’re being fed. it was just supposed to be a late night drive so he could tell you about his mission in spain, but his hands had other plans. it wasn’t even twenty miles until you two ducked off in what is supposed to be a closed forest preserve, hidden in an empty camp site. you feel the pressure swelling you open with each thrust, arms wrapped around his neck.
“spread your legs for me,” he disregards your call out, using a hand to carefully push one of your thighs open. the force of his push was enough to send your thigh back in its original position and with leon being so lust drunk over you, he shoved your thigh back, pushing your knee into your chest with a low, “wider.” he really misses his girl.
damp locks of blond bounce over the man's forehead before diving face first into your hair. he breathes in your scent, with his other hand wrapping its fingers around your neck. he practically shoves your head into the back of the seat as he takes you from above, one knee pressed into the seats. his movements slightly shift the car with reckless abandon, too occupied with his own pleasure to be mindful. your sweet smell fills his nose, exhaling almost feeling orgasmic as his eyes roll back simply because you’re all his.
“le–on,” you try again between thrusts, watching an intense gaze flicker towards your eyes with fluster. leon doesn’t have it in him to speak; all of the words he wants to say would be the wrong ones. instead, he pulls your head in by the neck, dropping a messy kiss on your lips. his hips ease into yours slower, the smack of your flesh making him grunt through his kiss as he twitches inside of you.
the air around him is encapsulating, wrapping him in heat. it sends electricity down his spine to see your body reaching on for air through his hand, watching your shut eyes shift under their lids. your breath isn’t completely taken, but restricted enough to be shallow. he notices the way tears brim your waterline, causing him to lick your bottom lip before trapping your kiss once more between his teeth. “come on, i’ve got ya,” he growls against your cheek, breathing in like you’re his lifesource. “you look at me and only me, got it? eyes on me." his demand comes after pulling away from your face, vision training yours.
“‘s so big, daddy.” your eyes grow wide in focus, though they try to close from the stimulation.
leon’s body nearly does a hard reset, hips stuttering as he releases an exhale filled with shake. “what did you say?” he actually has the audacity to shift his posture, straightening his back as if that would help him hear you correctly.
“you’re so big,” you try again, too lost in your own pleasure to realize that he’s talking about the new nickname. no one had ever referred to him as ‘daddy’ in all twenty seven years of his life, feeling the shiver run over the front of his body, stinging at his toes.
as if to grab intel from you using intimidation, his face grows closer to yours, gripping your neck tighter. “you know damn well what i’m talking about,” the tip of his nose brushes against yours, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. the hand that kept your thigh back guided your leg to rest over his shoulder, sweeping his free hand to your face. it grips your lax jaw before he has a change of heart, lightly tapping your cheek with the tips of his fingers as if to slap you. “say it again.”
a rush runs through his body watching you gasp, quickly biting your lip. “fill me up, daddy.”
another ‘slap’, “again.”
“please daddy.”
“fuck,” leon lowers his head, feeling his orgasm attempt to be pulled from him. he can feel how tight you are, begging for him to send you over the edge right along with him, and he doesn’t hesitate. “that’s a good girl. my fuckin’ girl.”
a nod suffices while leon rips one last kiss from you before his face hides in your bosom, hand leaving your face for his thumb to fiddle with the throbbing bud between your thighs. if he was going to fill you up, he’s gonna have to make sure his girl is getting her fix.
your hands fall from his neck only to cling to the wrist holding your neck against the seat. your hips wiggle under the touch of his thumb, cunt devouring him. and as you reach your breaking point, your whole body throbs as leon’s hips stutter, soon climax ripping from him in the back of his blacked out 2003 bmw. he shudders inside of you, jumping, filling your womb with hot ropes of white. his face begs for refuge, brows knit and jaw quivering as groans leave his mauve toned lips. his thumb loses its original rhythm, slowing down before he feels your hands in his hair.
heavy hands fall to your waist, anchoring himself. you watch his chest rise and fall, an unreadable look littered all over his face until he speaks. “you wanna cum?” he asks you bluntly, eyes shifting between yours. of course you do; you’re not spread out on his seats for nothing. so as you nod once more, he understands, but it’s not enough.
again, his fingertips slap the flesh of your cheek, his bottom lip hostage between his teeth before he speaks, “talk to me like a big girl.”
“yes.”
leon takes this moment to stare at you, smile wavering on the edge of something truly deviant. “mm mm,” he denies, kissing your forehead. “get dressed. when we get home, you're mine.”
though now you’re soft as dough. too tired to function and too turned on to wait any longer. shaking your head, leon nods, his forehead glued to yours.
“no,” you whine.
“yes,” he mocks you. “when we make it home, we can go all night if ya want, i promise. i just— shit,” he releases his final tired breath, “really missed you.” you’re just so pretty to him at this moment he couldn’t fathom seeing you in any other way. he watches the sheen on your skin glisten under the natural light pouring into the car, watching your clothed chest rise and fall.
“that is so selfish,” you hiss, pouting, hands running over his hips. “i want you now.” your body lies limp on the backseat, hearing him chuckle shamelessly, zipping up his jeans.
“my girl, my rules. you’re gonna pull that skirt down and wait till we make it home, beautiful.”
summary: making out in the car with re2!leon vs re9!leon. a continuation to "reporting back" if you squint
warnings: suggestive, allusions to car sex
re2:
leon was meant to be dropping you off, that was all. you had a girls date planned, and he had a night shift.
but you had kissed him goodbye and he leaned back in immediately after you pulled away. so you entertained his puppy eyes and kissed him again. and again when his lips chased yours. and again when he asked.
now, he’d asked for "one last one" thirteen kisses ago, but neither of you were in any rush to pull apart anymore. the small pecks were now forgotten for messy, half-coordinated, rushed kisses.
leon was leaned over you, his seatbelt half tangled into his torso as he ran his hands feverishly along any part he could. he'd been trying to do this since before you left.
his teeth were clattering into yours as you kissed, followed by immediate muttered apologies and a copious amount of puppy eyes in hopes of keeping you going.
"leon." you muttered into his lips, tugging his head away from yours with the hand tangled in the back of his hair. you'd done that at least four times now, his tongue stuck so far down your mouth you questioned if he was trying to reach your throat. again.
his nose bumped yours, not withdrawing from his kisses as he apologized, "sorry."
he gave you another look with wide eyes. you sighed at the biblical level of greed, kissing him back anyways.
⊱.˚── ⋅ .✧˚❀˚✧. ⋅ ──˚.⊰
re9:
leon was no one if not greedy with his kisses.
a lot of the man you once knew was gone, in differing ways. he learned patience, to take his time, he didn't hesitate, or hold back out of fear anymore. yet, the glimmer of that rookie still shone through his insatiable hunger.
pulled into a dark, secluded parking lot–because you and him both unanimously agreed the worst part of date night was the stretch of road between your reservations and your house–with one hand fixed on the back of your neck, the other cupped around your face. the location was less about fear–the risk of getting caught was part of the thrill–and more about the fact leon wanted zero chance at interruptions today.
his lips moved against yours with purpose rather than blind urgency, the hand previously on your neck now settled on the small of your back, pushing you deeper into him. you shifted into his lap, humming when leon's face winced at the movement.
"do you need help with that?" your hand lingered right atop his belt.
leon grunted in response, "later." he titled his head towards the backseats. "join me maybe?"
note: overtly freaked out on a friday tbh, i kinda wanna write a full part to both now 'cause this was so short
warnings: some suggestiveness/references to sex, but thats it
a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my stuff lately <3 i appreciate it so damn much so heres a little fluff gift for you all
A gentle storm rumbles outside, rain pattering the windows in a pleasant, low beat. You’re curled up on the couch, sucked into a book, with a hot cup of tea on the coffee table that you had been slowly nursing. It’s peaceful. The only thing missing is your husband, but you expect he’ll be home soon enough.
Like clockwork, you hear boots outside the door, a key in the lock. You look up to see your husband push through, dripping water like he’d just been swimming fully clothed. You just watch as he begins unlacing his shoes, grumbling under his breath.
“Is it raining?” Leon pauses at your voice, looking up at you slowly. You sip your mug, looking at him over the edge like the most nonchalant thing in the world. He drops his remaining boot and shakes his hair like a dog.
“You’re gonna regret that, smart ass.” He threatens, not a hint of aggression in his voice. You just watch him, expecting to enjoy the show of Leon undressing, but he shrugs off only his jacket before he’s coming towards you at a speed you can’t avoid. He lands on top of you with a dramatic oof.
“You’re gonna get the couch all wet,” you whine, and immediately regret it because you can predict his response before it leaves his mouth.
“You didn’t complain the last time you got the couch all wet.”
“Shut up.”
“So mean,” he scoffs and adjusts, getting comfortable on top of you. You’d like to say that even a waterlogged Leon is cozy to snuggle with, but it’s just not true. Instead of the warm radiator usually on top of you, his skin is cold. The raindrops still clinging to him dampen your pajamas.
“Leon.” He doesn’t respond to you, now all settled on top of you. His head is pillowed on your chest, and you can feel his breath deepening as he relaxes. His arms loop underneath you, hugging your waist with a pleasant, protective pressure. You comb his damp hair back from his forehead with your fingers.
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“Aren’t I?” He opens one eye to peek up at you. You tuck his shaggy hair behind his ears. He’s overdue for a trim, sporting something that was toeing dangerously close to a mullet. It’s really unfair that despite it, he’s handsome as ever, smiling at you with sugary sweet eyes.
At that point, you just let him rest on top of you and decompress from his work day. It’s not the most ideal cuddling session, but you always enjoy seeing him become a little more at peace with you in his grasp, in the home the two of you had made together.
After a while, his voice buzzes against your chest.
“Need to shower.” It’s a complaint, something like a whine in the back of the words.
“Yeah, you should,” you agree. You rub into his upper back, just where his neck meets his shoulders. He lets out a low, deep groan, when your knuckles press harder. “Feel good?”
“So good,” he sighs. Squeezes you a little tighter. You continue for a few minutes, before reminding him.
“You should shower, babe.”
“Yeah,” he says, almost as an afterthought. “In a minute.”
A minute passes. He doesn’t move.
“Leon.”
He sighs, and he finally begins to move. You’re thinking about what dry clothes you should change into when you feel yourself begin to move, too, and his arms still haven’t left you.
“Taking you with me,” he says, matter-of-fact. Before you know it, you’re sitting on the bathroom counter. He flips the water on and throws a steamer on the floor. The room floods with a pleasant, fresh eucalyptus scent. He comes back to you while the water warms, pulling you by the legs so your butt is on the very edge of the counter, and he can stand between your parted knees. He hooks a finger under the collar of your wet shirt. “Oh no, I got you wet. I guess… you have to take this off.”
“Oh no.” You reply just as flatly. You toss your shirt to the side unceremoniously and Leon drinks in your topless form greedily. He presses his hips against the counter, and his hands cradle your face. You hook your leg around his and urge him, somehow, even closer. “Hi.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” his eyes are flickering around your features, taking you in as much as he can. He presses a gentle, sweet kiss to the apple of your cheek. His stubble scratches against your skin in a way that you love. You take the opportunity to rub your palm over it, humming.
“Handsome.” You murmur. Leon chuckles. Your irises are practically heart-shaped.
“You’re a real charmer,” he presses a kiss to your mouth this time. It’s warm. Slow. You can’t help but sigh against him. His hand spreads across your bare shoulders, rough fingertips with gentle movements. “Mmh,” he groans the slightest bit. “Water’s gonna get cold if you keep distracting me, baby.”
“You like it.”
“Like you. Very much,” he kisses you again, this time pulling down your panties as he does so. In turn, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he obeys in a smooth motion, revealing his wide expanse of bare chest. His biceps flex a little as he does so, and you’re openly ogling him. Privileges of marriage. He comes back for more, on your jaw, your cheek. "In fact," he draws out the pause with a long, deep kiss that makes your stomach flip. "I'd say I love you."
"Hmm, that's interesting," you muse. Your teeth are at his neck and he sighs. His grip digs a little harder into your hips. You hum and look back up at him, now unbuckling his belt. His lids grow heavy, sinking til they're nearly closed with desire. You slide it from its loops, and it lands on the floor with a soft clink. “Take off your pants, Kennedy.”
(Watching your husband sleep so peacefully gives you an idea. Just how deeply is he really sleeping?)
Word Count: ~ 3k
Rating: E - Domestic smut, oral sex (m receiving), slice of life
Reader: Depicted as an agent in some lines
Author's Note: This was supposed to be a drabble, but oh well. Still counts! I got inspired the other day to write a little indulgent something for us, the readers 🤭 I imagine Leon has a much better sleep being married, more settled down and having that place where he can have nice things. And we just know our husband likes to be taken care of once in a while 🫦 Hope you enjoy! 💕
Your husband slept deeper and better than ever before. It was a realization that had crept in over time. The longer you had been Mrs. Kennedy, the more relaxed he had become.
By now, you knew that if you reached for him in the middle of the night, he wouldn’t jolt awake at the touch of your hand and ask what was wrong.
If you snuggled up to him, he wouldn’t angle his body in a way that let him spring up at any moment. Instead, he would let out a content sound and pull you close enough that his strong squeeze would leave you just a little breathless.
If you woke up before him, he wouldn’t abandon the sleep he so desperately needed just because of your quiet, waking energy.
And if you got up before him, the sight of the empty side of the bed wouldn’t send a sinking feeling through his stomach or startle him awake.
That he had managed to bring this kind of peace into his life over the years didn’t just satisfy you – it made you deeply, profoundly happy.
Even on this Sunday morning, when you had woken before him for once, you found yourself simply enjoying the sight of him breathing steadily beside you.
Warm morning light trickled through the fine gaps in your heavy bedroom curtains, just enough to let you see him clearly.
Leon lay on his back, one arm bent with his hand tucked behind his head, the other resting on his bare chest. He looked so peaceful – his face slightly turned toward you, completely relaxed, hair falling softly over his closed eyes, his breathing calm and even. His hand rose and fell with his chest, the soft blanket only just beginning at his waist – he always ran warm at night, while you pulled yours up to your chin to soak in every bit of comfort.
Propped up on your hand, you smiled, quietly blissful as you took in your handsome sleeping beauty. That the two of you had made it here – sharing a bed, a home, a life – felt almost unreal. So much had spoken against it: your lifestyle, your jobs, the constant danger that one of you might not make it home.
But you had tied the knot anyway. And it had been the best decision of your lives. Not only had Leon found a sense of peace in coming home – you had, too. You had gained a reason to return, no matter where you were. You had caught each other in a fall you had both willingly leapt into.
Carefully, you pressed your lips to his large bicep, perfectly angled in this position – a beautiful curve that always looked especially good beneath tight tactical attire. Even more so when he’d flash you that subtle grin and flex the trained muscle on purpose, coaxing a reaction out of you – somewhere between a nervous giggle and an appreciative hum. A lightness he had come to carry now, gifting you moments you cherished deeply.
You scattered soft, featherlight kisses across his firm skin, even placing a gentle one against his stubbled cheek.
Leon didn’t stir. He remained lost in sleep.
Part of you considered simply getting up and letting him rest – but at the same time, you wanted to stay right here. Ideally, you wanted to climb onto his big, comfortable, made-for-you body and make yourself at home there.
But then, another idea slipped into your mind. Why not? You could see how long it would take for him to wake up to a good morning blowjob.
A spark of excitement rippled through your body as the thought took root. Not that the two of you weren’t already familiar with slow, sleepy morning sex. On those quiet mornings, he would wake you with lingering kisses – soft and sensual against your neck, your shoulder, the curve where they met – pressing himself against you, hands wandering until you were awake enough to respond, to turn toward him and melt into his touch.
This time, though, you’d be sneaky about it.
You let your lips drift lightly over his skin, the touch barely more than a whisper of air – over his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.
Slowly, carefully, your body moved downward – the blanket rustled traitorously, but Leon didn’t seem to notice. He stayed exactly as he was, only drawing in a slightly deeper breath through his nose.
Encouraged, you placed one last kiss against his wrist before slipping beneath the covers, immediately surrounded by warmth – and the trapped scent of Leon, that unique blend of something like leather, metal, and wood.
His defined muscles, as always, offered strong contours beneath your touch. Solid abs greeted you – a blessing that he always slept shirtless.
And even if you liked to think you weren’t shallow, the reality of your ridiculously attractive husband certainly didn’t hurt. It only made you want to touch him more – to feel that firm physique beneath your hands, to trace every line… and eventually, to feel the way he softened under your touch, yielding so perfectly to you.
Here, in the middle of sleep, Leon was already soft. Not tense – just sunk into the mattress, at rest.
At least, except for one thing.
While you couldn’t resist tracing the contours of his six-pack with your lips, your hand wandered to his boxers – the only sleep attire he ever needed.
His morning wood pressed firmly against the soft cotton, a clear outline beneath your hand, perfectly tangible as always – long, straight, like it had been made for you.
A sense of satisfaction spread through you at the thought that you could start from a very… ready position today – even though it wouldn’t have mattered otherwise.
There was something especially intoxicating about feeling him grow fully hard in your mouth whenever you dropped to your knees for him unprompted – whether Leon was sitting at his desk at home, relaxing on the couch, or when you joined him in the shower.
He welcomed you everywhere.
This morning, your playful little idea seemed perfectly aligned with his cock – maybe he had already read your intentions.
You smirked softly before hooking your finger beneath the elastic of his boxers and tugging them down.
Even beneath the heavy blanket, barely able to see, you knew exactly how his tip looked as it was freed from the confines of the fabric.
A thick, beautiful head that always stretched you so perfectly when he pushed into you – maybe already glistening with a bit of precum now that you had started to work your magic on your handsome husband.
At the thought, you quickly decided on a small taste test, closing your lips around him in a brief but delicious kiss.
A few salty drops met your tongue as you let it glide over him, all while watching Leon closely for any reaction – was he already awake, waiting to see what you would do next?
As your tongue circled his tip, softening his skin with saliva, your fingers pushed his boxers further down, revealing more of his length – more for you to explore.
More kisses followed along his shaft, accompanied by small licks over the prominent veins – and he twitched beneath your lips. Whether the man himself was awake or not, his cock definitely was by now.
A quiet, pleased laugh slipped from you as you continued, savoring his reactions, tasting the salt of his skin, lavishing attention on him – a slow lick along his entire length, around him, your cheek pressing softly against him, growing wetter from your own watering mouth – all while you had to keep his boxers down so they wouldn’t get in your way.
Above the blanket, Leon’s irises moved rapidly beneath his closed lids as he drifted through a dream wetter than anything he’d had since teenage years.
Disjointed images of you in the most tempting little outfits flashed through his mind – then the memory of your first time, which had turned out so different from what he had imagined, yet far better than anything he could have dreamed of.
Images of him taking you on every available surface, his favorite place still the bed, where he could take his time with you.
“Mhm.” A low sound slipped from him as his body vibrated with growing arousal.
Somewhere at the edges of his hazy awareness, Leon realized he could easily come like this – like some teenager losing control in his sleep.
Slowly, sleep and dreams began to give way to something more conscious, his thoughts forming more clearly – though still entirely focused on you, his wife. If that floating feeling didn’t fade, he might just reach for you and whisper those dreams against your skin.
He shifted from the position that had brought on those vivid dreams, his eyes fluttering open as he searched for you beside him, his hand already reaching toward your shoulder –
But you weren’t there.
Leon frowned slightly, his mind still sluggish, trying to catch up with what was happening while he remained inexplicably aroused.
He almost sat up, ready to shake his head and bring himself down from the high – when it hit him that the heat had a very real source.
And it was beneath the blanket.
He felt it before his mind could connect the dots. Warm, wet heat against his hips, against his cock. Lips – movements he knew far too well. Fingers that had touched him countless times before, sliding soft and slick along his shaft.
A tongue circling the head of his erection – before a warm, perfect cave, your mouth, took him in completely.
Leon couldn’t see you – your entire body hidden beneath the blanket. All he could make out were the subtle, rhythmic movements of the covers.
And just like that, his brief confusion melted into pure, heavy relaxation.
His gaze drifted from the blanket up to the ceiling as he let his head sink back into the soft, heavenly pillow with a quiet sigh.
Married life was the best.
In moments like these, Leon sometimes regretted how long he had taken to propose to you. It was one thing when his girlfriend made him feel this good – but something entirely different when it was his beautiful wife.
When Leon adjusted his body, you realized he had woken up – and wasn’t stopping you. He lifted his hips, giving you the opportunity to pull his shorts all the way down so you wouldn’t have to hold the waistband anymore.
Both of your hands settled on his now thoroughly soaked length, fingers gliding along before wrapping around him, angling. You let him slide back into your mouth, taking him deep and purposeful, your lips closing firmly around him as your head moved up and down his perfect hardness – only to slow again moments later, letting him slip free as you exhaled.
The sloppy, breathless part was always the most fun about a good blowjob. When you were chasing your breath, soft sounds spilling from your throat, your mouth open, your tongue working as you made a mess of your face and his pelvis.
Leon’s hand settled on your back, just like it always did during longer sessions, showing his appreciation with light, wandering touches and quiet, breathy words.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice threaded with a heavy exhale. “Keep going for me.”
The sudden stimulation had lit his body up completely.
“God, you’re amazing.”
You knew him so well – knew exactly what he liked. The way you hummed softly around him, licked, sucked – so wet, so soft – perfect rhythm, perfect pressure. And most importantly: indulgent. Not rushed, but exactly the way you enjoyed it, too.
Leon loved it when you played with him like that – when your tongue wandered, when you kissed him. He could picture your watery eyes when you pushed just a little further, letting him slip past the barrier of your throat, making him see stars.
Every time he thought it couldn’t get any better, that you couldn’t possibly take him higher – you proved him wrong.
His eyes fluttered shut again, mind focused on nothing but you. Every single day with you felt like heaven – seventh, eighth, ninth, whatever – especially when you did things like this to him.
Without thinking, his hand moved from your back to your neck, gently massaging the soft skin there before his fingers tangled in your hair, searching for purchase, giving just the faintest nudge to keep going.
His lips parted for the heavy breaths his lungs struggled to keep up with, his heartbeat pounding hard in his chest.
You felt his fingers twitch against your scalp at the same moment his cock throbbed in your mouth, pressing against your slowly numbing lips. You knew he was enjoying this part the most, so you pushed through, keeping him firmly between your lips, your cheek hollowing, leaving no room for air.
Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, spilling freely down your already soaked face – mixed with spit from your messy, devoted attention – as you worked him with steady, purposeful movements, reading his cues, the pressure on your head telling you he was close.
God, how Leon wished he could see you right now – your perfect face, the way his cock disappeared into your mouth again and again. The thought alone sent heat crashing through his body, settling deep in his balls, ready to burst.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Doing so good, baby. I’m gonna come.”
In his sleepy state, his orgasms always felt different, somehow better. Like his body moved without his mind, driven purely by instinct, desire, need.
Leon couldn’t help but grab a handful of your soft hair as he came hard, the force of it nearly stealing his breath entirely – if not for the deep, chest-shaking groan that tore from him as his body tensed, releasing his load into the depths of your mouth. His hips lifted just slightly, an instinctive movement he barely managed to catch.
You took him like a champ, even continuing to move your beautiful lips along him, letting him ride out his climax, focused on not choking as he spilled hotly into your throat.
Only when his small movements eased and his grip in your hair loosened did you allow yourself to slow, carefully licking him clean and swallowing what he’d given you.
You followed the gentle – so very gentle – pull of his hand in your hair back up, emerging from beneath the blanket. The air above felt almost cold, no longer thick and heavy with sex like the cocoon you had just left.
Leon’s eyes settled on your face instantly, reverence and so much love in them as he lifted both hands to cup your cheeks, wiping away the traces of your effort with his thumbs.
Your tears fell victim to his touch while you quickly wiped over your mouth and chin, clearing away the lingering wetness.
Already, your still slightly dazed, heavy-breathing husband pulled you closer – half guiding you onto his chest as his soft lips met your sore ones, offering immediate relief.
He kissed you deeply, intensely, with so much fire meant only for you – everything you deserved in worship and devotion. He tasted himself on your tongue as he licked into your mouth, finally having your face close to his again.
Strong arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his large, welcoming body, grounding you in safety and warmth, just like he always did. The perfect man, who treated time with you as something sacred.
A soft, loving hum slipped from your lips against his, a smile forming as you pulled back just enough to look at him – his post-orgasmic haze giving way to that deep, steady contentment you loved seeing on him. You were sure it mirrored your own expression perfectly.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said softly, a warm smile on his lips. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, my love.”
You leaned into his hand as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You are –” Leon exhaled, granting your lips another soft kiss, “ – so, so amazing. I’m on cloud nine.”
Your chest swelled with quiet pride at his praise.
“Love when you have fun with him like that, too,” he added with a teasing smirk.
“Yeah,” you giggled. “I had fun. Wasn’t sure if you’d wake up right away.”
“Well, either way, it was a pretty nice surprise.” One of his large hands playfully slipped beneath your silky nightgown, caressing the soft skin at the small of your back. “Want me to return the favor?”
At a single word, he would have buried his head between your thighs and not come back up until his cock had recovered enough to take you again – slow, deep, filled with everything he felt for you. Another kind of heaven, as so many of them revolved around you.
“Actually – ” you drew some random patterns on his skin, “ – I was wondering if you could make me some chocolate chip pancakes. With orange juice? I feel like having a nice breakfast with you.”
There would be time for more intimacy later. Right now, you felt a little softer, a little more vulnerable, and wanted to be taken care of.
Leon understood instantly. His hand slipped from beneath your nightgown, instead tracing slow, comforting lines along your arm.
“Of course.”
With a sudden, playful motion, Leon rolled you onto your back and hovered above you, drawing out that light, carefree laughter he loved so much – so unguarded, so full of trust, knowing you were exactly where you wanted to be.
Your eyes told him the same, soft and full of affection as you looked up at him, one hand cupping his cheek, fingers brushing over his stubble.
One last time, he leaned down and kissed you, taking a few indulgent moments with your lips before finally pulling away.
“You stay here. I’ll get breakfast ready, and we’ll eat in bed, yeah?”
“That would be amazing,” you smiled.
“Anything for my girl.” His gaze softened even further – if that was even possible – his eyes completely free of the weight you always tried to help him carry. “My wife.”
leon’s an avid shower sex enjoyer. he admittedly gets carried away washing your hair and likes the warm water on his back when he’s kissing down yours. for what it’s worth he says it’s not unsafe if he’s the one holding you up (seems antithetical)
the most he’ll do for a long time is pet your hair when you find yourself on your knees in front of him. he’s somewhat fundamentally averse to being taken care of on an intimate level that a part of him feels like it’s degrading to you. it’d take remarkable persuasion
leon is an unintentional manhandler. don’t make him hold your thighs apart or your hips down unless you want to feel a little insatiable at the feeling of firm muscle. forget it if you’re ovulating
leon holds your heels in reverse cowgirl. it’s a weird habit. he likes to feel close to you but it tickles just a little
he pulls the “so you like me?” shit with a taunting smile when you’re on top of him and telling him he’s so good. what he really wants is your fingers in his mouth to shut him up, who said that??
he has the serbian snuff film face and a penchant for making eye contact when he has, in his own words, quote ‘missed you s’bad’, that makes it so hard to keep your hips flat when his face is between your thighs and his hands are pushing up your shirt
leon’s trademark is whispering beside you and asking you to ‘please breathe’ even when he himself is rationing what little remains of his control to not move cause you got a tendency to hold your breath when he’s stretching you out
he always hated getting his scars called cool but he doesn’t mind it when you trace them with your fingertips in missionary. you’d never scratch over the angry abrasions but he feels a little more admired rather than mauled. that being said he secretly wishes you would but that reflects his own odd masochistic proclivities
i have a little bit of disdain for leon's inventory space in re9
pairing: leon kennedy x reader (ft other re characters)
summary: 4 times the team notices something's up with leon and the 1 time they figure it out (spoiler: he's married)
genre: fluff
Claire notices the ring by accident.
They’re in the middle of a debrief. Multiple papers are spread across the table, coffee’s gone cold, and Leon is leaning back in his chair with one arm slung over the backrest, listening quietly and absorbing the information seamlessly. He isn’t speaking much, nodding occasionally, eyes flicking between whoever’s speaking.
It’s when he reaches forward to slide a document closer that the light catches on his hand.
Claire raises an eyebrow in curiosity.
A ring.
It’s a casual band, not decorated with gems. It sits on his ring finger on his left hand. The hand.
She blinks, certain she’s mistaken. Leon doesn’t wear jewelry. He never has, especially with the type of work they do.
The conversation flows around her, but she’s no longer following along. Her eyes drift back to his hand, specifically the finger, tracking the movement as he flips a page, as he gestures to a chart as he makes a point. She feels like if she rubs her eyes or looks away for too long, it’ll vanish.
It doesn’t.
By the time the meeting finishes, Claire convinced herself that she needs confirmation.
Everyone rushes out of the conference room, ready to start working. Sherry’s halfway out the door when Claire catches her wrist, tugging her back into the conference room.
“Did you see that?” Claire asks, lowering her voice. Leon’s hearing is freakishly good.
Sherry frowns. “See what?”
Claire tilts her head toward the conference room, where Leon is still inside gathering his things. “His hand.”
Sherry squints, trying to follow. “What about it?”
“There’s a ring,” Claire deadpans. “On his left hand.”
Sherry’s expression sparks with curiosity immediately. “No way.”
“I’m serious.”
They both glance back to the man in question. Leon slips his jacket on, rolling his shoulders slightly, trying to ease the tension out of them, completely unaware of the scrutiny.
Sherry leans closer to her, whispering. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“On that finger?” Claire raises an eyebrow. “That’s not nothing.”
Sherry purses her lips together. “Okay, but if he was married, we’d know, right?”
Claire scoffs. “Would we?”
Sherry frowns a bit at that. Leon’s always been private, sure. It’s a known fact that he likes to keep things to himself. Almost to his detriment.
Still.
“Maybe the ring only fits on that finger,” Sherry suggests. “Or he doesn’t know the meaning of the finger. Or-”
“Sherry, Leon’s not that stupid.”
They look at each other, then watch as Leon finally walks up to them near the door. He gives them a nod and a small smile only reserved for those closest to him.
“Everything good?” he asks.
Claire nods automatically. “Yeah. Just… talking.”
He raises a brow. He can tell there’s something more, but he doesn’t press. He never does. Instead, he lifts a hand in a casual wave and heads down the hall, footsteps steady as they echo.
The ring glints once more before he disappears around the corner.
Claire exhales slowly, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Sherry turns to her, eyes wide. “Okay, that’s weird.”
Claire crosses her arms, still staring at the empty space where he stood. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “That’s really weird.”
–
Sherry doesn’t mean to see it either.
She’s leaving a lot later than usual, caught up in paperwork that refused to end, and by the time she finally makes her way out to the parking lot, the sky has already started to darken.
She’s halfway to her car when the low hum of an engine draws her attention.
The Porsche is hard to miss.
Leon’s leaning casually against it, one hand resting on the roof, the other tucked into his pocket. He checks his watch, then glances toward the entrance.
Sherry slows her steps without thinking, curiosity pulling her attention in that direction.
A few seconds later, someone steps out.
It’s a woman.
Sherry frowns slightly, instinctively trying to put a name to her. She doesn’t recognize her from the office, and she’s certain she would remember if she had. The woman moves towards the black car, spotting Leon immediately.
He straightens as she approaches. Sherry notes that his shoulders relax, his lips curve upward, and his attention narrows entirely onto her.
They exchange a few words that Sherry can’t hear from where she stands, but the woman smiles, bright and wide, and Leon mirrors it. Sherry hasn’t seen him smile like that in a while. Then, without hesitation, he opens the passenger door for her.
Sherry’s eyes widen even more.
She watches as the woman slips into the seat, as Leon closes the door behind her and circles around to the driver’s side, as he glances at his passenger one more time before getting in.
The engine hums again, and the Porsche pulls away with the rev of the engine.
Sherry stands there, dumbfounded, for a few seconds. She blinks, shaking herself out of it, and hurries the rest of the way to her car.
–
Chris figures out something’s off when Leon turns him down.
It isn’t the first time they’ve gone for drinks after a long day, and it certainly isn’t the first time Chris has been the one to suggest it. It’s a routine that the two found themselves performing regularly, a way to digest everything they… deal with. Plus, Chris likes that Leon and him have similar tastes in drinks and bar establishments.
So, when Chris finds himself itching for a glass of whiskey, he doesn’t think twice.
They’re walking out of the building together, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. Chris wraps up his story of the most recent mission he went on.
“Hey,” Chris asks, glancing over. “I’m probably gonna head over to the bar and drink a glass or two. You in?”
Leon looks at him, but pauses for a second before responding. Chris has never seen him hesitate like this.
Then, Leon shakes his head. “Can’t tonight.”
Chris slows to a stop, circling around to stand in front of Leon. “You’ve got something going on?”
Leon nods, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Already made plans.”
Chris just stands there and stares. Leon’s response is… unusual.
“Alright,” he says, shrugging it off. “Rain check.”
“Definitely,” Leon replies. “Next round’s on me.”
They reach the parking lot, and Chris watches as Leon veers slightly, heading toward his sleek, black Porsche parked a little further down.
Chris leans against his own car for a moment, arms crossed, as Leon unlocks the door. There’s a brief pause before Leon gets in and he’s checking something, looks like his phone at a message. Chris swears he sees a glimpse of a smile as Leon slides into the driver’s seat and pulls away.
Chris watches until the car disappears from view.
Plans, he thinks. Leon has plans.
He huffs out a small breath, shaking his head as he pushes himself off the car and reaches for his keys.
“Since when?”
–
Jill would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention.
Her and Leon stop for a coffee break in between briefings, a rare, small pocket of time. The place is small, a few blocks away from the usual rush of the main streets, and they wait silently in line, comfortable. Whenever it’s just them two, there’s not much chatter.
It’s their turn to order, and Leon, the gentleman that he is, offers to pay for her drink. When the cashier echoes their total, Leon reaches into his leather jacket for his wallet.
This catches her attention as her eyes focus on his expensive leather black wallet. Jill remembers when Sherry bought him that for his birthday. It’s worn, slightly shedding at one corner, but it’s just proof that it’s well loved. She sees his hand flip open the wallet, reaching for a couple of bills in the pocket.
That’s when she notices. There’s a photograph tucked into the clear sleeve.
It catches her attention before she can stop herself.
Leon doesn’t seem to notice. Like it’s always been there. He pulls out the cash, hands it over, thanks the barista, all with the politeness he always has. The wallet stays open long enough for Jill to see the photo.
A woman.
She’s close to him in the picture, leaning into his side. Leon’s arm is around her shoulders, a curve of his smile. The photo is domestic and warm, she feels like she’s intruding an intimate moment by just looking at it.
Jill looks away before he can catch her staring, but the warm feeling from the photo stays.
The baristas call their names and hand over their cups. The warmth radiates through the cardboard sleeve. As they step outside, a breeze goes by, making her shiver at the difference in temperature.
“Since when do you carry photos?” she asks.
Leon pauses mid-step, glancing at her. They both know what she’s referring to. “Since a while ago.”
Jill tilts her head slightly. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “It’s nothing like that.”
Jill puts her arms up in fake surrender. She doesn’t push further even though curiosity pulls at her. She knows that in this line of work, there are just some things you want to protect. Keep to yourself.
As they part ways, she finds herself glancing back at him.
Leon slips his wallet back into his jacket, the photograph hidden once more.
–
Grace decides she’s had enough.
By the time everyone’s all in the same room again, the pieces started to come together. Claire and Sherry are big gossips, talking about Leon’s mysterious woman, and Grace, being the FBI agent she is, needs to come to a conclusion. Now.
Leon, for his part, is completely at ease.
He’s seated at the table, flipping through a file, either unaware or unconcerned with the glances everyone’s been giving him.
Grace leans back in her chair, arms crossed, studying him.
“So,” she coughs, cutting through the low hum of conversation. “Leon, are you seeing anyone?”
The room hushes immediately. Claire and Sherry’s mouths open wide in shock, Chris hides a smirk under his hand, and Jill simply looks up from the paper in her hand.
Leon looks up, blinking once, caught off guard by the directness. He closes the file, setting it aside on the table.
“Yeah,” he admits.
Claire leans forward. “Yeah?”
Sherry’s eyes are practically sparkling with anticipation. Chris watches with an even bigger smirk, and Jill remains still, observant.
Grace raises an eyebrow. “You want to elaborate on that?”
“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” he shrugs.
“It’s a huge deal,” Claire argues. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”
“Weeks?” Chris repeats. “Try months.”
Sherry points at him. “You have a ring.”
Jill adds, “And a photo.”
Grace nods. “And apparently a whole secret life that we don’t know about.”
Leon glances between all of them, realizing very quickly that there’s no easy way out of this.
“…I’m married.”
For a second, no one reacts. Leon sees all of the wheels in their heads turning, digesting what he just said. He can physically see the lightbulbs in their heads go off.
“You’re what?” Claire blurts out.
“Since when?” Chris demands.
“Married?” Sherry echoes, incredulous.
Jill just shakes her head, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at her lips.
Grace leans forward. “You’re telling me you got married and didn’t tell anyone?”
Leon raises his hands slightly, as if to calm the sudden wave of reactions. “It wasn’t exactly planned.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” Claire says. “It actually kinda makes it worse.”
“We would have come,” Sherry trails off, sounding a little offended. “You didn’t even give us the chance.”
Chris crosses his arms. “You kept this from all of us?”
Leon hesitates, searching for the right words. Everyone in this very room is the closest thing he has to a family.
“We… were in a rush.” he finally answers. “It happened before I left for Wrenwood. There wasn’t time for anything big, and we probably didn’t want anything big anyway.”
Grace studies him. “So you just decided to get married in secret.”
“I thought I was dying, okay?” Leon defends himself. “I just wanted to marry her.”
Claire exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Unbelievable.”
Sherry shakes her head, though there’s a small smile starting to form. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”
Chris lets out a low sigh. “You owe us a long explanation.”
“And an introduction.” Jill leans back slightly, arms crossing.
“Of course,” Leon shrugs. “I figured that was coming.”
Grace smiles widely. “So when do we meet her?”
“Soon.” His expression turns soft, thinking about his wife at that very moment. Everyone in the room can’t help but smile at the sight.
And this time, no one misses the way his hand lays on top of the table, the ring catching the light, shining bright.
like this is my FAMILIA yall i love them so bad
i kinda had a hard time deciding the title of this actually... may change at some point iDK
leon’s love language is painfully obvious. it’s arduous for him to vocalize his love for you but you’ll wake up to your favorite flowers on the dresser, no sign of the culprit though
god forbid he sit or lie down in your house in which case you can’t pry your cat off of him. that’s her bf before he’s yours
leon isn't really one for pet names but there is an occasional 'baby' that he lets escape him when he's feeling especially enamored
it’s a laborious task to get leon to deviate from rigid gender ideals. it’s not a particularly orthodox or traditionalist ideology for him per se as much as it is him believing he needs to bear the brunt of providing
you’d like to have cute screenshots of your text chains but there’s a million results for the phrase “call me” from him in your texts because he’s what’s colloquially known as dogshit at conveying emotion over the sms and would rather hear your voice
no social media warrior. he might make an instagram to like your posts or something but he’s got no particular inclination
got his hands on the record his aunt taught him how to dance to once and holds you real close in his dim lit living room. he’s got a habit of tucking your head in the crook of his neck, you’re not sure if that was also taught. leon thinks dancing with you makes him feel a little normal
his phone wallpaper is you with smudged lipstick next to him with scarlet red lipstick marks littering his face and neck. he’s got a documented smile for once
swears he doesn’t want kids but won’t look at you when you’re holding one. one “how long you guys been together again?” and you know he’s awkwardly akimbo and biting his bottom lip in pure fluster behind you
i have overdue calc homework but this is more important
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
2087
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
izzy806
