SUMMARY: nothing crazy, really… just you and Leon trying something new!
CONTENT: 18+ - mdni! piv - THEE. PRONE BONE SESSION (I drool), headlockinggg, reader’s a bit subby/soft-dom leon (maybe?), creampie, heavy petting, praise kink goes crazy in this. I implied that reader is a bit curvy/chubby, but it’s still fairly neutral so read it however you want. a really messy alternating pov but whatever. lovey dovey shit fr fr.
WC: 1.7k
NOTES: this is nothing more than a leon kennedy’s moobs-and-biceps appreciation fic (inspired by “my moon my man” by feist). **also! I had re4r Leon in mind while writing this but it’s not at all specified so you can honestly imagine whatever Leon you want.**
Leon Kennedy Masterlist!
•••
“You okay, baby?” Leon cooes low at you, his voice smooth and dangerously molten.
“…H-hmm—uh huh.”
“Good. That’s good.”
Your boyfriend’s mouth drags along the ridge of your shoulders. With a light kiss of his teeth, and a few well-placed tentative licks to the sticky skin, he’s making the concerted effort to claim all of you. His. His, as you’ve been countless times before. His, as you will always be.
Your throat is dry; hoarse and cracked, and he hasn’t even entered you yet—but you can’t help it. He had already pulled one orgasm out of you earlier with his mouth and his hands, but now, as he pins you to the bed with his knees and chest, you swear you might come again at any moment.
You’re incredibly sensitive right now, having already been keyed up so high. Leon, of course, has absolutely no problem using this fact to his advantage.
“You’re shaking, baby,” he says quietly, warm breath curling around your ear.
“What?” you hiccup.
“You’re shivering.”
As if to prove his point, his hands—calloused and strong from years of use—dance along your sides. They move from the dip of your hips to where your breasts bulge at their sides.
Sighing, you say, “Well, when you do that…” and bury your face into the mattress.
Leon laughs and your body absorbs it like it’s your own. As if your bones are conductors, the sound sends an addictive jolt to the pulsing organ in your chest and between your thighs.
“We don’t have to do this, you know, if you’re too nervous.”
You’re quick to shake your head and even quicker to arch back into him. A little absently, you think then about how in this position, you two slot perfectly together—like you were made to fit.
“Want to,” you add weakly. “Wanna do this with you, Lee. Please.” For good measure (as if your words in all their breathy, whiney nature weren’t indicative of how you felt), you start to roll your hips back. Leon groans loud.
His flushed, hot tip rests just inches away from your weepy hole. He watches you flutter on nothing; as the slick pooling there catches the silvery moonlight strobing through the bedroom window. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. God-sent and lovely and all his. To take, to have, to hold…
Your hips move again, slowly, dangerously, and Leon stops you with a hard hand to the dip of your spine, making you squeak. “Baby…” he warns.
“Leon, please. Please, honey…wan’ you so much.”
Leon inhales, all sharp and shaky. “Alright…yeah, yeah, okay. …Whatever you want, baby.” He kisses your spine once more as he crawls up your body.
With his thighs bracketing yours, he pushes down on you with the hard line of his abs. His pecs—all swollen and round and slick with sweat—cement to your shoulders. The sheer mass of his body feels as if it’s swallowing you whole. You preen at the contact, letting out a mewl so pathetic you even surprise yourself.
Gradually then, with the kind of control and calculation he exhibits at work, Leon pushes his thick head through your gummy walls. He’s so painfully hard that it takes everything in him to go slow. And, by the time his pelvis is flush to your ass, he already feels spent.
The crook of Leon’s chin hooks around your shoulder ensuring his face is firmly pressed against yours. He pants heavy in your ear, and out of the corner of your vision, you see his face flush a berry-red.
“Fuck, baby. You—shit—y’feel—”
“Leon…‘m ready.”
The man nods, mainly to himself, before pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. Slowly—just as slowly as he entered you—his hips draw back. The languid drag of him has you grasping aimlessly at the sheets; the thick vein that curves around his even thicker cock is relentless in catching the ridges of your walls. In this position, you’re able to feel all of him. “God, Leon...”
Of course, sex with Leon has always been something else entirely…but this? There aren’t enough words in any language to describe the way you’re feeling right now.
“I know, baby, I know. I need you just as bad,” Leon purrs. You just nod along, jaw falling as Leon slowly slides back into you. He braces himself then, arching and tightly curving over your figure.
“How do you want it, baby? Like this?” His hips speed up then, shallow thrusts that have your thighs immediately stinging with the friction of being stationary. Still, you groan, eyes rolling back into your head as he keeps pace. After a while, Leon shifts over top of you again. “Or do you want it like this?” With steady hips, he suddenly slams forward, the action practically punching your soul straight out of your body. You cry when his head shoves directly into that spongey notch deep inside you.
Desperately, you reach for the hand braced by your head. Leon locks your fingers with his before bringing them to the soft skin of his mouth.
“Hm, you like that?” You try to crane your head so that you can meet your boyfriend’s eyes, but Leon ‘tsks’ at you. You aren’t at all ashamed by the attempt or his response, though. It’s done without any sort of malice. Nothing more than light teasing, born from a place of reverence and pure, unadulterated love. “Use your words, baby. Gotta know you want it. Need to know I’m making you feel good, y’know?”
“Shit, Le—yes. Yes, like that. Fuck—“ you manage to eventually get the words out, only for another thrust to leave you blubbering.
Leon lets go of your hand, but only for the briefest of moments, before his fingers come up under your jaw. He cradles your face as he finds your mouth, a curtain of his blonde hair hanging low over your eyes. He licks at your own tongue, at the corners of your lips, behind your teeth… Any and every inch of space he can reach becomes learned in a matter of seconds (as if he already wasn’t so intimately accustomed).
Because of the pillow beneath your hips, Leon’s able to fix his grip on you every once in a while—whether the pads of his fingers are digging into the tempting plains of your waist, or the fat of your shuddering thighs. Each thrust has his pubic bone bouncing against your ass in an even, but incredibly hard-hitting pace.
Leon nips at your earlobe, gently tugging on the loose flesh so as strengthen (or perhaps ground) his dwindling resolve. In little time, he feels the effects of his impending orgasm: his balls tightening against your puffy clit, dick swelling deep within your walls…
You’re just so warm, and so wet, and so…so good to him, so good for him, Leon can’t resist the flurry of emotions threatening to escape him. “Fuck, I love you. Love you so much, baby. Always so tight for me. Shit. Y’love sucking me in like this, don’t you?”
“Leon…” is all you can manage to say. It’s the only warning your hazy brain can conjure up; the only thing on the tip of your tongue other than another strangled whimper.
Leon understands though. He always does.
You’re close. Really, really close. The sound of your squelching slick as he rifles through you over and over; the way your spine arches and your feet start to helplessly kick out from beneath you—it’s all the confirmation he needs.
The muscles in his arms have begun to strain, a sharp tightness that blooms from his wrist all the way up to his shoulders. He takes the opportunity then to collapse onto you, carefully accommodating some of his weight with his knees so as not to smother you entirely (though he would without question if that’s what you asked).
The sounds of your whines pitch higher and higher with every snap of his hips. You’re shaking again, though this time it’s for sure an unconscious act. In relieving his arms from the awkward angle, Leon’s able to wrap an arm around your head, and you nearly choke on spit when you realize what he’s doing.
Leon’s arm—meaty bicep, veins, and all—rests safely against your collarbone, holding you snug to his chest. His cheek is pressed to yours again, so close that you’re convinced you’re practically becoming one (as if you haven’t already…). You’re both two halves of one heart stitched together; all haphazard, but terrifyingly real.
“I need you to come for me. Can you do that, baby? Can you make a mess for me?” His voice is a beautiful ragged sound—one that in any other situation would have you pushing your hips back to meet his. But not this time. Leon has you locked in place, pliant and safe as the knot of your orgasm pulls tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.
So with that, you opt to just nod into Leon’s arm, albeit rather weakly. Suddenly, you feel a different kind of pressure come up between your hips.
Leon somehow managed to sneak his free hand down to your cunt, calculated fingers once again toying with your clit in easy circles. And that alone that has you coming with a sharp and stuttered gasp. While you shudder and twitch, Leon continues his ministrations; humping and grinding into you while his own release crests.
He grunts and huffs as he spills into you, as if his fucked-out body can’t decide on which sound it wants or needs to make. Regardless, all that really matters is that you’re holding on tight to him, whispering something about how good he makes you feel and how much you love him.
Of course, Leon has to return the sentiment tenfold. He doesn’t say it exactly like how you did (he’s never been the best with words), but as he cleans you up, petting your head and kissing everywhere the damp cloth doesn’t—from the inner curve of your knee, to your navel, to the hollow of your throat—he knows that you understand.
Because this is how you love each other. You, through your words, and him with his actions and adoring eyes.
Rookie! Leon who’s been separated from you due to the outbreak that’s taken over Racoon City. As he makes his way through RPD, evading all types of monsters and the tyrant he finds a safe room, giving him a moment of downtime. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and opens it, his eyes settling on the photo of you he’d slipped into the side window pocket. As he stares at your pretty face, he makes a mental promise to survive and make his way back to you.
RE4! Leon who’s out in Spain, sent out to find the presidents daughter. Exhausted from taking down countless of the infected whilst trying to find the girl that everyone so desperately wanted to find, he sat on the floor in an abandoned home, catching his breath. He took out his wallet, a small smile washing over his face as he saw the latest photo of you that he’d put in. Reaching behind the small photo, he pulled out a ring and stared at it, deciding that as soon as he made it home to you, he’d finally pop the big question.
RE9! Leon whose life was close to ending as he stumbled through the secret underground Umbrella lab that both himself and Grace were making their way out of. He ungracefully fell to the floor, blood spluttering out his mouth every time he coughed, unable to find the energy to continue on and find Elpis and Grace. Just like every other time he needed you, he pulled out his wallet, swiping his blood covered thumb against the plastic window that lay over your photo, distraught that his last moments would be away from you, but at least he was able to see your pretty face one last time before everything went dark.
TAGS: Established Relationship, Morning Sex, Cunnilingus, Married Couple, Teasing, Fluff and Smut, Post-Mission, Sleepy Sex, Emotional Vulnerability
SUMMARY: A year after escaping Spain and getting married, Y/N wakes up before Leon. Despite her happiness, a small part of her wishes he had proposed properly.
They slept in that special pose that develops over years, when it no longer matters who is the "big spoon" and who is the "little spoon." It was just comfortable. Today, you were behind his back — pressing your chest against his shoulder blades, your arm wrapped around his waist, your nose buried in his hair. It was so warm. It felt so right.
The room was bathed in a gray pre-dawn twilight. Outside, it hadn't dawned yet, but the birds were beginning their first timid chirps. A silence you didn't want to break.
Leon was asleep. Truly, deeply — apparently, yesterday's mission had thoroughly exhausted him. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his chest rise and fall rhythmically.
You had woken up about ten minutes ago. Not from a nightmare, not from back pain — your body just decided you'd had enough sleep for today. And now you lay there, inhaling the scent of his shampoo (you shared one because you refused to buy a separate bottle, and he never complained), and thought.
You thought about how it had been a year since Spain. A year since you got out of that hell. A year since you blurted out to him, in the middle of a corridor littered with cultist corpses: "If we get out of here, I'll marry you."
And you did get out. And you did marry him. In a suit, no white dress, no veil, in the presence of two witnesses and a priest who, it seemed, still hadn't recovered from marrying a couple with files like yours.
But...
You propped yourself up on your elbow, peering at the back of his head. He never actually proposed to you. A real one. With a ring, on one knee, with a tremor in his voice. He just agreed. Just said "yes" back in Spain. Then came the wedding, because you said "let's go, a wedding is waiting for us," and he went.
You didn't regret it. Not for a second. But sometimes, in quiet pre-dawn hours like this, you wondered — could it have been different? Could he have gotten down on one knee in some cheesy restaurant while waiters applauded? Could he have pulled out a box with a ring he'd spent weeks choosing?
You smiled at your own thoughts. Leon? With his eternal doubts? With his "what if you don't want to"? He'd rather die than make such a public gesture.
But the resentment still sat somewhere deep. A small, stupid resentment, completely unlike you. And now, in this silence, you decided you had the right to voice it.
Your way. The Y/N way.
You nuzzled your nose into his hair. He didn't move. You kissed him — lightly, barely touching your lips to the hair on the back of his head. No reaction.
You moved lower. Into the little hollow below his head, where the neck meets the shoulders. You kissed him — bolder now, with a light nibble on the skin.
Leon twitched in his sleep. Mumbled something.
You didn't stop. Your lips moved further — down his neck, slowly, teasingly. You knew he was waking up. You knew by how his breathing changed, how the muscles tensed under your lips.
"Stop it..." he whispered, sleepy, but the hand resting on yours squeezed a little tighter.
"I don't want to," you exhaled against his skin.
You reached his ear. You lingered here — ran your tongue over the lobe, then gently bit down. Leon sighed — deeply, no longer sleepy at all. His body turned toward you, but you didn't let him — you pressed closer, holding him in place.
"Leon," you whispered into his ear.
"Hmm?" His voice was hoarse, sleepy, but already interested.
"I've been thinking..."
"Dangerous."
"Shut up." You bit his ear harder. "I'm serious."
"I'm all ears." He tried to turn again, but you held him back.
"Don't turn around. I want it this way."
He obediently froze. You smiled — still a puppy. The best puppy.
"Actually," you began slowly, putting all your "resentment" into each word, "by all the male canons, you were supposed to propose to me."
He went still. Stopped breathing, it seemed.
"Y/N..."
"Quiet. I'm not finished." You kissed his neck, just below his ear. "You just agreed. Said 'yes' back in Spain. That's it. No ring, no knee, no trembling voice."
"You don't like all that stuff," he whispered. "You said yourself that a white dress is for fools."
"I say a lot of things." You licked his neck. "Sometimes I want to be a fool. Sometimes I want to be asked. Begged. For you to be afraid of rejection."
"I'm already afraid," he admitted quietly.
Of what?"
"That you'll leave."
You froze. Then laughed — softly, into his shoulder.
"Idiot. Where would I go without you?" You kissed his shoulder blade. "But you'll have to make up for it."
"How?"
"Well..." You ran your hand over his chest, down to his stomach. "A little bit of your lips between my legs might fix the situation."
He jerked — either from your words or from where your hand had wandered.
"Y/N..."
"What?" You bit his shoulder. "Don't you want to make amends?"
"I do," his voice was completely gone. "Very much."
"But!" You abruptly pulled your hand away and leaned back on the pillow. "Not for long. I'm still offended."
He finally turned. In the dim light, his eyes gleamed — completely sleepy, but already with that familiar spark that always turned everything inside you upside down.
"So," he said slowly, "you woke me up, got me all worked up, and now you're saying I don't get to continue?"
"I said: you get a little." You smiled, looking up at him. "And then I'll be offended again."
"That's blackmail."
"This is marriage, sweetheart."
He looked at you for a long time. A very long time. Then his face broke into a smile — that same puppy-like smile that made you melt for the first time years ago.
"You're insufferable," he said.
"I know."
"I love you."
"I know." You reached for him, pulled him by the neck. "Now come on, make amends. You have... let's say, half an hour. Then I'll be offended again."
"And if I try really hard?"
"Then maybe after half an hour I'll change my mind about being offended."
He moved lower. Slowly, kissing every centimeter of your body, as if he wanted to memorize it all over again. Chest, stomach, thighs — everywhere his lips touched your skin, you exhaled quiet, uneven sounds that made his own breath catch.
"Leon..." you whispered when his kisses grew bolder, when he reached the place where you wanted him most.
You closed your eyes, tilting your head back on the pillow. That familiar warmth spread through your chest — the warmth you allowed yourself to feel only with him. Only with this puppy who had burst into your life years ago and turned everything upside down.
His lips touched you. Gently, almost weightlessly — he seemed to be asking permission, even after all these years.
"Leon," you exhaled, and your hand found the back of his head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop..."
He didn't stop.
You felt every movement — timid at first, then bolder. He always did this: learned, tried, memorized your reactions. And you responded — with quiet moans, uneven breathing, fingers tangled in his hair.
"Good," you whispered. "Just like that... yes..."
He found a rhythm. Slow, languid, the kind that made your knees weak and your thoughts melt. You no longer controlled your sounds — and didn't want to. Let him hear. Let him know that only he could do this to you.
"Leon..." your voice broke as the wave crept too close. "I'm going to..."
He sped up — just a little, just enough to push you over the edge. And you fell.
A sob, an exhale, your body arching off the bed, your fingers tightening in his hair until it hurt. He didn't stop, prolonging your pleasure until you went limp against the sheets, breathing heavily.
He came up to you, lay down beside you, pressed his lips to your shoulder.
"Good?" he asked quietly.
You didn't answer. Just turned your head, found his lips, and kissed him. Long, grateful, tasting yourself on his tongue.
"I'm still offended," you whispered when you let go.
"I know." He smirked. "In half an hour?"
"We'll see."
"What can I do to make you forgive me?"
You looked at him. At this idiot who had just given you heaven and was now looking at you with puppy eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Repeat it," you said simply.
"Now?"
"No, you idiot." You smiled. "When we wake up. For now — just hold me."
He pulled you to him, settled your head on his chest, covered you with the blanket. You listened to his heart — steady, calm, alive.
"Leon?"
"Hmm?"
"I forgive you."
"Right now?"
"No." You yawned. "But soon. You're trying. It counts."
He kissed the top of your head.
"Sleep, Y/L/N."
"Kennedy," you corrected sleepily. "I'm Kennedy."
"Sleep, Kennedy."
And you fell asleep. With a feeling that everything was right. That this puppy was yours. And that you would never let him go.
Imagine getting absolutely drenched in your Leon-inspired mission clothes during a job.
“Jump!”
You both threw yourselves over one of the abandoned mine’s ledges, sending you straight towards the pool of murky water below. You had both had been cornered by infected, leaving you with no other choice as there were too many to fend off.
“Leon!” you couldn’t help but yell, bracing yourself into proper position as you hit the waters. The world fell silent as the sound of water mulled your ears. It was extremely dark, and the best thing you could do was swim to the surface.
You broke through the water, gasping as your eyes opened to pitch black. “Leon? Leon!” you swam around, trying to locate him. Arms wrapped around your waist, causing you to instinctively kick in that direction.
Your foot met their skin, causing a pained groan—Leon’s groan. “Leon!” you sighed in relief when you realized it was him. “Are you okay? Did I kick you too hard?” you spoke, wincing when he turned on a flashlight and aimed it at you. You noticed the look of discomfort he tried to mask, “I’ve taken worse.”
Together, you both swam to the nearest surface. He helped and hoisted you out of the water, leaving you both dripping wet. He turned to you, “Stay here. I’ll find a way out.” He walked forward with the flashlight, looking for a way out. His eyes landed on another cave entrance half submerged in water, “Bingo.”
“There’s a way…” he had whirled around with the flashlight, his mouth suddenly dry. You stood there, occupied as you smacked the dirt clumped water out of your shoes. His eyes trailed over your body, watching how the water had drenched your form-fitting clothes—sparing no curve of your body this time as it accentuated everything. “Holy shit…” he breathed out, bug-eyed like a teenager.
You had put your shoe back on and looked at him. “Leon?” you spoke as you saw his face, your eyes looking to see nothing on you or around you. “Leon!” you called again, watching as his eyes had refocused. “What’s wrong?” you approached him, and you could’ve sworn you heard him gulp. “Nothing,” he almost choked. He gave you another look over before acting unbothered, “You could’ve been hurt.”
You watched as he stiffly walked away and towards the cave, knowing now was not the time to pry. You had followed him, peering inside. “It’s our best bet,” he spoke, gently pushing you forwards. “I’ll be right behind you,” he spoke as you both stepped into the water.
A couple minutes in, a noise startled the both of you—causing you both to press up against each other. “What was that?” you whispered softly, alert. “We must be getting close,” he mumbled. You were about to step forward when something firm had brushed up against you, “What was that?” you turned to look at him. He was suspiciously quick to look around in the water with the flashlight.
RE9 is deep inside by brain and I have so many thoughts about Leon... Oh my beloved... Also if you notice this changing randomly or the whole blog don't mind ittt im just being sillyyyy :333
「 ✦ TW/CW: ✦ 」 SMUT, DARK CONTENT? (kind of, more at the end), Bad English, 18+ (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DON’T INTERACT), GN Reader? (one mention of pregnancy, but i keep it pretty generic for the most part), Royal AU, Knight!Leon, I imagined this with RE9 Leon but you can imagine other leons expect re2 sowwy, Implied Age gap between Reader and Leon but it's up to you to imagine, One mention of death, Yandere Leon (mostly at the end), Mention/Implied Kidnapping, Mention of arranged/forced marriage, let me know if I need to add more TW/Tags ♡ My blog contains dark content, be careful when interacting/following! Please if you like my work don't forget to reblog/interact with me♡
Leon is a knight. A very good one to be exact, though not that you ever saw him do anything in particular... Or saw him at all. The first time you saw him was after your father assigned him as your personal guard, before that you only heard whisper and rumours. Leon was always kept away, missions to dangerous for any other knight, enough to make a less devoted knight start asking question they shouldn't know the answer.
Meeting the actual Leon was weird. You imagine him differently; older, less big, and definitely less cheeky and without any type of humour, as you were used with your old guard. He kept silent for most the time, his hand on his precious sword, but Leon will comment with a cheeky and not funny line whatever situation you found yourself in, not caring who hears it or if it's directed to someone whose right in front of him.
At the very least, he tells you, being your sitter isn't particularly a hard job or a traumatizing one. You aren't sure if he's glad to have this "boring job" or if he misses the fun of the more dangerous jobs. You aren't supposed to care in the first place.
If you have to be honest however... You are worried. Your old guard died in his sleep, that's what they told you at least, and then Leon is now your new guard? Maybe you are over thinking it, but it seems like they are hiding something from you. Or that at least your father is worried. You can't ask neither Leon or your father, since you knew they were going to avoid or not answering at all so it was on you to found out. It was going to be hard since Leon was around you all the time, even when taking a bath he was right outside your door, waiting. You were glad he refused to be inside with you, even joking about it most of the time to annoy you.
But Leon always made sure you never found out too much, not wanting your pretty head to worry too much about things out of your control or too horrid. What you really found out was how Leon was a nice, soft, and even kind knight. To you. He really didn't have much patience for anybody else as he did with you, his blue eyes were softer when he looked at you, a small smile appears on his face.
You weren't sure when exactly you started noticing those things however. Or looking at Leon differently, for that matter. Everybody else did however, since your lady in waiting and maids all starting chuckling with each other every time Leon entered the room or was near you. In the rare times when Leon wasn't listening, or simply pretended not to, would try to get some gossip from you about your relationship.
Which was strictly professional one. He was guard, that's it. Nothing more between you two.
However, when your father started to talk about your future, your future marriage, you were distraught in a way you never imagined being. Not that you wanted to get married to a complete stranger, but you learn to accept it. Now your heart was screaming. Your mind was loathing the mere thought. And your eyes, crying. So you run back to Leon's arms, clinging to him sobbing and telling him everything. The possibility of marriage, the possibility of going away from your father, from him, from everything you knew. To warm a stranger's bed and bear his children.
Leon is devastated. He knew that it was going to happen, of course he did, still the mere idea made him sick. He tried to comfort you, hugging you closer and wipe off your tears, but each time he can feel his words coming out less secure, he finds himself agreeing with you, and, worse of it all, he kisses you when you start to spit out more anxious talk that don't really make much sense.
That was the breaking point. He knew. Leon knew that from that point on, he won't be able to be away from you.
How could he when you looked so cute with tears in your eyes while looking at him, begging him to do anything really. Can he really help though? Should he? When Leon looks at you, those answers are clear and obvious, but his knight trained mind makes him reconsider. But all his resolution comes crumbling down when you kiss him too; desperate, unsure, inexperienced but oh, so needy. Is he the first that your soft lips ever touch? Or you have kissed someone else? Gods, the way your body fits so perfectly into his, the way you softly whimper and moan when he holds you closer and bite your lips...
Leon tells himself that he can't. That he shouldn't. No matter how much he wants you, he cannot have you, you are a royal. Meant for someone of your status, not him. An older, tired, knight who cannot give you what you truly deserve. But you are a temptation for him; a mere kiss won't satisfy any more after dreaming it for months now, and each moment that passes that line he promised to not pass keeps disappearing more and more... His hands now grip your ass and pick you up with easy, and lets you both fall into your bed.
"I shouldn't..." he says, his mind finally taking control of his lust body. Leon looks down, at your messy figure, and sees the same stare he has full of lust, full of need.
"Please... Leon..." you beg, voice so sweet, so intoxicating. "I don't care about anything else Leon... I just want you. Please, Leon..." your hand go to hold his face with your hands, looking at him in the eyes directly. You didn't care about his or yours status, all you wanted was Leon. Fully.
Leon simply cannot refuse you.
So he takes you right there. In your bed. While maybe, there are some guards patrolling or right outside your door. Neither of you care, not with the way you both are basically intoxicated with feeling each other's bodies. Leon is far too big for your virgin body, so he spends time between your legs eating, sucking, biting every inch of skin that he can find in order to make you more prepared, more comfortable.
It's a tight fit regardless, no matter the preparation. Leon is simply too big for your poor hole, stretching in ways you thought impossible, and he wasn't able to push it all in. Not that he minded, since being inside you was heavily for Leon, and it took him everything to not pound in you like a beast in heat. But you would love that, would you? Not now, he already ruined your first time, so he needs to make it up to you by going to your pace.
He goes slow and gentle at first, not trying to push his cock deeper, just trying to get you used to his length. Yet you are already a mess; lashes full of tears falling on your cheeks, legs up in the air, hair completely messy, body sore and trembling already. You have never felt this full, this desperate for a release.
You did, more than you would ever admit, masturbate. When nights were too long and sleep kept running away, your lower stomach felt like burning so you let your finger wander, touching yourself more and more... But this? This is completely different. The way Leon fills you up, the way his cock hits all your sweet spots, his low and deep moans, his hot voice telling you how good you are being for him, how you were made for him... If before only your stomach was burning, now every part of felt like drowning in pure ecstasy. All you could do was desperately cling into him, marking his arms, chest and back with your nails making groan even louder.
And, of course, Leon cums deep inside of you just to watch the cum coming out of your hole, wondering about the future... Would you agree to run off with him? Not that you have much choice, he can just pick you up and run, would love having a family? He sure does. You would look good with a small baby in your arms, one that is attached to your hip. But when he looks up and see your almost asleep figure Leon feels that desperate need to have you all for himself, to watch you smile, fall asleep in his arms... And he can just do that. It will b tricky and hard, your father won't just give up on you so easily, but if he plays his cards right...
You will be his. Without no one knowing where you are, or what really happened to you.
This work belongs to @/noctyraline, do not repost, translate, copy, rewrite, use for AI or share on TikTok without my permission. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡
Red Roses & MDNI Banner by @/saradika (you can find them here & here)
Summary – Leon, your bodyguard, is fighting hard to keep his composure around you, doing everything he can to resist the pull he feels. But the real tension is how long he can keep up the act, especially when you’re clearly testing every limit of his self-control.
Note : I never wrote fanfictions or smut so bear w me lmao if its not good I am sorry lol, if you read it or liked it, I appreciate it a lot <3
WC - 2900 words
･:* ೃ࿔.⋆❀° ⋆₊⊹✿🐞˚.⋆ ʚ🐞ྀིྀིɞ ⋆.˚🐞✿⊹₊⋆ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
It has been 6 months, 6 long months of this, of whatever this was.
And God, he was trying.
He could swear on his one-liners, that he was, and was doing his absolute best to keep things professional between you and him. Keep it clean. Keep you at a distance.
But you? You were making it harder than it was supposed to be.
Because the way you looked at him those almost innocent, hazel doe-eyes should’ve been illegal. The way his control slipped a little more every time you tilted your head at him like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to him.
he could not get the curve of your soft features when you smiled out of his goddamn mind and it felt like, you were trouble wrapped in something soft. It irritated him how your clothes clung, subtly, to your body. The way you stood just a little too close to him sometimes, like you were testing the invisible line he kept drawing between you two.
And he hated that part most.
Not you.
Just the fact that he started to notice everything about you.
He told himself not to think about it.
Not your voice. Not your laugh. Not the way you flirted with him. Not the way you made his patience feel like it was constantly one breath away from snapping.
Focus, he ordered himself.
But still, now as he looks at it, it feels like his own fault. Because he should’ve refused the assignment the moment it was given. The moment the president told him to take it on, to protect the daughter of the most notorious criminal in Italy, who even had connections in the government, hence the govt. could not take any actions against him.
A man who ran his empire underground, who had far too many enemies to trust anyone else, and far too much love for his daughter to leave her unguarded.
So he picked the one person he thought could survive the job. Leon. The safest option. The most reliable one.
Because now, standing in the middle of it all, Leon couldn’t help but think he should’ve walked away before it ever began. And he realize that was his first mistake.
Leon exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the gun in his hands, forcing his mind back into place.
She is just the assignment. Nothing more. He said to himself, Except, he knew he was lying.
This contract was for a few years, only a few years, that's what Leon told himself, whenever you tested him.
Not to mention, the pay was very handsome. But now Leon was contemplating if it was worth the headache.
And by headache? He meant you.
The president “recommended” Leon, well because technically, he was the most capable person for this job. And after all he had saved the president's daughter before. From zombies. From danger.
And Leon could have sworn that dealing with those zombies was easier than dealing with you. Because those zombies didn't make his heart rate spike, didn't flirt, didn't want to make him pin them down.
Well if they did that, that would actually be fucking weird. He laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he shook his head hard enough that it felt like his brain might rattle loose.
Get it together.
He took in a slow breath, forcing the noise in his mind to settle. The kind of discipline that had kept him alive all these months, but it kicked back in, again, as usual, tightening over his instinct like armor snapping into place.
“Damn you.” He muttered under his breath, as he could feel your eyes on him.
He realized the second mistake was? Actually meeting you.
Because now he was stuck escorting you through Europe for the next three weeks while every criminal organization on the continent apparently wanted you dead.
If only he knew what he was getting into.
The worst thing in all of this was? You flirted with him constantly.
He reminded himself it was just a job, he can continue, and forced his attention back onto the task at hand to check his gun compartment.
Now, Leon was sitting in his office, inside the penthouse your father had provided for him and you, so Leon could keep an eye on you.
But as silence pressed on him, he wished he could walk away from all of this, from you, and could’ve asked for another assignment, another bodyguard to take his place, someone who wouldn’t let things blur the way they were starting to blur now.
But his heart was stubborn in a way he hated, because no matter how many times he told himself to step back, he couldn’t stay away from you. Not when, in the middle of everything he had already started to fall.
The loud rain outside distracted him, from his thoughts hammering heavily, almost violently, on the windows of the penthouse, as though it were begging to be let in. It struck the windows in restless waves, the sound filling the dim apartment with a cold, endless rhythm.
Leon was still for a moment, the gun resting loosely in his hands as he listened to the droplets shatter against the glass. The city lights flickered faintly across his tired face while thunder rolled somewhere far in the distance.
Currently, he was almost too aware of you being there, every small shift of the couch, every soft sound of movement pulling at his focus no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Still, he said nothing, choosing silence instead, forcing himself to drown in the work in front of him as if duty could somehow quiet the way you occupied the space in his without even trying.
“You know,” you finally said from the couch of his office room, your legs crossed slowly as you leaned forward just enough to draw his attention, “most bodyguards are less grumpy.”
Your voice makes him take a deep breath as if he already knew you were going to get on his last nerves. Still he did not look up and just checked the chamber of his pistol, too focused on it, as if it's the most interesting job in the world, “Most clients listen to their bodyguards, when they tell them not to wander off alone.” he says, his eyes focused on the gun.
“I was bored.” you say, in an innocent voice which almost makes him laugh.
“You almost got kidnapped,” he snapped back.
“But you saved me.” You say, pouting as your gaze lingering on him for a hot second.
Leon exhaled slowly through his nose, and looked up at you, “Because, that's my job.”
“So, that's all it is to you, a job?” You press, biting your lip.
He refused to acknowledge the way it affected him. “You’re enjoying this,” he replied.
“Oh, immensely.” you agreed.
You finally stood from the couch, smoothing down your skirt and straightening your top as you began to walk toward him at an unhurried pace.
Leon noticed the shift from the corner of his eyes, long before you even reached him. The unmistakable sense that you were about to make his already difficult night even worse.
As you moved closer to him, his grip on the gun tightened slightly, jaw setting as he prepared himself for whatever trouble you were bringing this time.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“I haven’t even done anything, because you don’t let me!” you protested, a flicker of annoyance breaking through as you met his resistance head-on, and just as quickly you mask it with a mischievous smile on your lips.
And honestly? That smile was becoming a genuine problem for Leon.
“You’re very tense, Agent Kennedy.” you continued.
“I wonder why.” he said, in a sarcastic tone.
You quicken your steps and move swiftly and stop directly in front of him now. As you stood closer to him, Leon could smell your citrus perfume faintly, beneath the lingering mix of cigarette smoke and rain drifting in from the city outside.
His heartbeat betrayed him immediately. Your eyes flicked down briefly to his chest, where his breath had subtly changed, then back up to his face, like you were memorizing the exact moment he lost a little more control without admitting it.
“…Cute,” you murmured.
Leon looked offended. “I am NOT cute”
“And fluste…red…” you dragged the word slowly, tilting your head as if inspecting him. “…Kennedy, you know. All red.”
Leon exhaled through his nose, looking away for half a second like he was trying to physically reboot his brain.
“You’re blushing.” you hummed, clearly unconvinced, stepping just a little closer again as if testing him.
“I’m sleep deprived,” he muttered. “It’s different.”
You tilted your head innocently. “Is it?”
Leon stared at you for a long moment before looking away first. He realized professionalism was dying painfully inside him.
Because the truth was simple: Leon was completely, utterly screwed. He liked, no loved you, far too much already. Maybe he has from the beginning. Maybe from the moment you smiled at him after your first assassination attempt and joked:
“Wow. Are you always this cold, or am I special?”
And the worst part? You trusted him. Completely. Granted, you were meant to trust him, but it still felt different to him. He could see it in the smallest things. The way your shoulders relaxed when he was close. The way your breathing slowed when he was in the room. The way you slept easier when he was nearby, like something in you finally allowed itself to rest only because he was there to keep watch.
And surely a bodyguard should not notice how his clients sleep, or find himself watching them for hours when they finally let their guard down. He shouldn’t be memorizing the way your breathing steadied in rest, or how your expression softened when you were no longer pretending to be strong. He shouldn’t be fighting the urge to reach out, to fix a strand of hair, to brush his thumb against your cheek, to do something as simple and dangerous as touching you at all. He especially shouldn’t be noticing the way you made small, unconscious sounds in your sleep, or the quiet rise and fall of your chest that somehow made everything in him go still.
Because… it wasn’t right.
And Leon knew it better than anyone.
And all of it made his chest ache. Which was EXACTLY why he kept shutting you down. Because this could never happen.
You were under his protection.
He was supposed to keep you alive, not fantasize about pinning you against the nearest wall every time you smirked at him.
Unfortunately, you seemed determined to destroy his self-control personally.
“This conversation is over.” He said before you could speak, and he stood abruptly and touched your shoulder, feeling your soft skin on his calloused hands, as he ushered you outside.
Later that night, Leon sat in the suite completing paperwork, the room was quiet except for the soft scratch of his pen and the distant hum of rain against the windows.
He didn’t look up when the bathroom door opened. At least, he tried not to.
A cloud of jasmine-scented steam billowed into the room first, the steam drifting from you. And as he finally looked up to you. As you stepped through the haze. he noticed you wore nothing but his oversized white t-shirt. The cotton, stolen from his dresser hours ago, clung to your curves in damp, translucent patches. Water droplets still clung to your collarbone, and the fabric yielded entirely to the cold air, making your hardened nipples peak through the wet material.
Leon froze mid-sentence, the words in his throat almost seemed stuck. His gaze locked onto the sight of you bare-legged, damp, as he drags his eyes upwards to your breasts, his jaw instantly clenches.
"You have got to be kidding me," he said abruptly.
You blinked, tilting your head with a mask of wide-eyed innocence. "Hmm?"
You glanced down at the hem of the t-shirt, which barely brushed the tops of your thighs, and let a slow, knowing smile curl your lips. "What? I’m dressed."
"Barely."
"You're dramatic, Leon."
He slammed his pen onto the desk with a sharp crack, and dragged a hand over his face, but the gesture did nothing to stifle the sudden, violent rush of blood that went south and straight to his cock. His trousers tightened painfully as his dick surged to full attention, straining against the fabric of his pants. The friction was a torture he had invited by staying in the room.
Jesus Christ.
The image of you arched over his desk and your t-shirt hiked up to your chest, makes him groan internally as he pictures your breasts touching the edge of his desk, and thrusts inside you again and again until, your pussy drips all over the floor, and you moan his name, like a only prayer you were supposed to learn.
All of it flashed through his mind too suddenly, too sharply, like a flood he hadn’t braced for. And just as quickly, he snapped his gaze toward the window, focusing on the rain-streaked glass and the city lights beyond it, as if grounding himself there could somehow restore the last fragments of self-control he still had left.
"Why in god's name are you wearing my t-shirt?" Leon asked instead. His tone was sharper than he intended, his eyes flicking away as if the sight of you were a breach in security he couldn't contain.
You stepped closer, the soft patter of your bare feet on the hardwood punctuating the silence. You bit your lower lip, watching the muscle in his jaw pulse. "What do you mean?" You looked down at yourself, then back up at him with a slow, teasing smile.
Leon exhaled a ragged breath, the scent of your soap filling his lungs and making his head swim.
Leon exhaled, already regretting looking. “Just… never mind.”
“Should I take it off?” you teased, tilting your head.
"No," he groaned, his voice a low rasp.
You blinked. “No, what?”
"No," he repeated, rubbing his temple, as if trying to physically push back the urge to lunge at you.
"Whatever this is. You cannot keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"That."
You didn't stop. You glided toward him, the oversized fabric swaying with every move you made. As you finally entered his personal space, Leon felt his dick throb rhythmically against his zipper. Every instinct screamed at him to abandon the professional facade, to grab your hips and bury himself inside you right there on the paperwork, and fuck you until you pass out. He curls his fingers in his hands, his knuckles turning white with pressure, as he fights his desire, which was drowning him too badly.
“You know,” you said softly, “most men would be thrilled if someone flirted with them this much.”
Leon let out a dry laugh. “Yeah? Most men are idiots.”
“And you’re not?”
“No,” he said immediately.
Then after a pause: “I’m trying very hard to be smart.”
Your teasing expression softened slightly at that. And suddenly the atmosphere changed. “You really don’t feel anything?” you asked quietly.
Leon went still. Because THAT was the question. The real one beneath all the flirting. You looked at him too openly sometimes. Like you genuinely wanted him. And that terrified him more than any mission ever had. Leon stood slowly from the desk chair.
“You need sleep.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he said firmly, though there was something strained beneath his composure, something almost like sadness he refused to let fully surface. “And, I don’t want you, and I don’t feel anything for you.”
“Liar,” you whispered.
That made his eyes twitch in frustration, because it was unfair coming from you, because he hated how easy it looked for you, and what you said was too close to the truth he was trying to bury.
He stepped closer before he could stop himself. You were too focused on him on the way his expression kept shifting between restraint and something far more vulnerable to notice how badly his erection was aching him.
He was now close enough that your breath caught slightly. His voice lowered. “You keep looking at me like that and one day I’m going to forget every rule I’m supposed to follow.”
Your pulse visibly jumped. Which only made things worse. “And that would be terrible?” you whispered.
He was losing this fight. Badly. He clenches his jaw so hard he thought he would break it. And he looked at you, really looked at you, and for one dangerous second, you genuinely thought he might kiss you.
Instead, he reached past you calmly and opened the door of his room.
“Bed,” he said flatly.
You stared at him in disbelief. “…Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re a menace.”
You groaned dramatically and walked past him toward the bedroom. But just before disappearing down the hallway, you glanced back at Leon, who was standing still at the doorframe and watching you. The moment your eyes met again, his composure cracked slightly.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” you teased softly. Leon closed his eyes briefly like a man enduring divine punishment.
“…Goodnight.” he muttered, ignoring your comment.
As he watched you walked down the hallway, his gaze glued to your hips swaying with every step you take, and that very moment he realized you were going to be the death of him.
