Caleb had been sick for days. His throat hurts, his chest is congested, and every breath is more labored than the last. The Fleet Doctor finally sent him home after he coughed so hard and so much that he passed out in a meeting.
He had considered asking you to come and pick him up from work- he knew you and Sylus were going to be coming up in a day or two anyway so why not see if you two can come earlier? He misses you- both of you, surprisingly enough.
Sylus had been a thorn in his side initially- another obstacle in the way of being able to love you- but, upon Caleb’s return, you had more than enough room in your heart for both of them and they were more than happy to give anything a shot as long as it meant being with you.
In time, Caleb has grown very fond of the leader of Onychinus- how he protects you, adores you, and spoils you exactly how Caleb would. In quieter moments, he has fallen in love with Sylus on his own.
He buys him every model plane he could ever want- even works with him to build them. The two men work in tandem and sync, Caleb looks forward to these days. Sylus is his opposite, but in all the right ways- he taught him to let go and to trust the strength you possess.
But Caleb doesn’t want you to bother you. He doesn’t want to inconvenience you or worry you and take all your attention from work; you hate that so much. While being sick may be different, he still can’t bring himself to be so selfish.
So here he is- lying miserably in bed and entirely feverish. His blinds are closed and so are his eyes, the pounding headache has only gotten worse, and he’s not trying to keep himself together.
It’s hard being the protector, the responsible one, the one who never struggles- it makes these moments all the more lonely and harder to share. Drifting in and out of sleep is the only thing he can do.
He’s not sure when he wakes up, but even his stuffy nose cannot hide the scent of delicious chicken noodle soup. Guilt fills him as he realizes that you probably came here early and he didn’t even have anything prepared for either of you.
With a head filled with lead, he barely manages to sit himself upright- it gives him whiplash, he feels dizzy and disoriented, falling forward with nothing to stop him.
Until he collides with a hard, muscular chest. His sunset eyes search blearily and find Sylus looking at him with softness and concern.
“If you wanted to get up,” Sylus teases, “you could have said something, Pup.”
“Smells good,” Caleb barely murmurs, “I feel bad for not helpin’.”
“It’s a good thing you aren’t!” Your teasing voice ringing from nearby breaks up the silence of the room, “otherwise there would be boogers all up in this soup!”
“And you need to rest,” Sylus says, his voice firm, “you aren’t indestructible, Mr.Colonel.”
He doesn’t know when, but at some point, you both help him to the couch. You go back to the kitchen and Sylus holds him carefully. It’s so soothing he can barely keep his eyes awake.
“You need to tell us when you aren’t feeling well,” Sylus murmurs, “you don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”
“It’s easier to suffer alone,” Caleb murmurs, “more comfortable.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” you step into the living room, soup in hand, “you seem way more comfortable now than you did when we first arrived.”
It’s true- everything feels lighter now and he admits that his psyche feels less heavy.
You and Sylus don’t let him lift a single finger- you cooked so Sylus does the dishes. Caleb’s head is in your lap and he loves the feeling of you massaging his aching sinuses- his entire body feels relieved and it almost makes him want to cry.
Almost.
Eventually, he’s snuggled between both you and Sylus. Usually you are the one in the middle, but tonight (as you reminded him) is about making him feel better and leaning up against Sylus while also feeling your touch is cathartic. His hand idly plays with Sylus’ fingers and your soft snores fill the quiet while the muted tv flashes brightly.
“Thank you,” Caleb rasps, leaning further into Sylus, “I…”
“Never would have asked for the help on your own?” His tone is teasing, “I’m afraid that is going to be hard with Mephisto around- he doesn’t like when the people he cares for suffers.”
Caleb chuckles- he thought he saw that damn bird.
“And I don’t like to see it either,” Sylus shyly presses a kiss to his forehead, “I’m here for you too- I care for you too.”
Maybe it’s not love just yet, but damn, it feels pretty close.
cw: drinking, flirting, miscommunication, reader and Leon have unrequited feelings, gn!reader (no description of features/clothing)
masterlist ao3 requests
PREVIEW:
You say something you shouldn't, but it turns out Leon doesn't mind.
Leon Kennedy/Reader
You and Leon always share the pleasure of each other's companies on the nights when the two of you don't have any obligations. When the two of you are not occupied by fulfilling your duties as stalwart warriors of the unceasing monsters that haunt the night.
Only then you may enjoy the delight of sitting with Leon in the lounge that no one else uses. Then you may shelter in this oasis with this man who occupies your attentions so perfectly across from you.
There's something so handsome about him, even in this terrible lighting, as you regard the way that he sits in casual, languid repose. It's something that you're only granted sight of when the two of you may relinquish the burdens of the day.
When you watch the way that his hand knuckles around the neck of the beer bottle, the bob of his Adam's apple as he allows himself a heady swallow—as he settles it at crooked angle against the bend of his knee.
(This is problematic in itself, for it prompts you to direct your gaze up the slope of that thick, muscular thigh barely housed by his practical clothes.)
When Leon speaks, you have to pretend that you were not admiring the details of his body. You must act with utmost normalcy in comparison to other avenues that your thoughts were wandering down.
His voice is rugged, it's familiar, it's of a cadence that informs you he has relieved himself of the burdens of the day.
His eyes remained trained on the distant horizon as he confides to you, "Think I'm getting too old to drink."
There's a self-deprecatory smirk that makes foundation on his face, something weary in his eyes as he admits this: this is a confession to you. This is an admission that he can share in your company alone. You mind reels against the soporific effect of alcohol as you find something to reply to him with.
"Perish forbid the thought, Leon." You smile, turning yourself against the plush cushion of the couch to address him. Your hand wields your own beer with adamant determination.
"You can keep up with the best of 'em." You tell him, letting your own sincere smile take occupation on your face. In return, you are given the sight of a grimace, the crow's feet taking ample display around the squint of his eyes—something that you think suits him quite nicely.
"No—"—He disagrees with a dismissive wave that his free hand makes—"—Think I gotta head home. Sherry says I'm starting to enter grandpa territory."
The statement, at the signal of his departure, sends a rush of adrenaline through you—worry that he may actually depart. And desperation fuels you to ensure that he remains.
But you keep your voice level, you ensure your smile appears easy, to avoid the roiling turmoil from within being displayed.
"Sherry says that because you're her parental figure." You grin across from him, halting him from the tightening of muscle that indicate his exodus home. He looks at you with nonplussed airs, wondering what you will say next.
And what you say next is the truth—but perhaps not as well articulated as it should be. "But you're like, totally a DILF."
You don't realize just how deeply you have descended past the point of no return until you observe the crinkle of his brow, the oblivious tilt of his head.
"DILF?" He echoes your statement, watching the details of your face for clarity. "What's that?"
Here you are rendered totally at a loss for any sufficient vocabulary. You search for the most available wording that will not render you a fool. Nor Leon deeply uncomfortable.
But you're at a loss for any way to mollify the definition; so instead, you decide to opt for honesty.
"Well—uh—"—You stare askance to the ground, back to Leon's expectant face, where he awaits elaboration—"—It's a …dad I'd like to fuck."
The words feel as though they are clawed out of your mouth, as a steaming, nascent heat blossoms under the spread of your cheeks, under the sinew of your skin. To say that wishing for a swift demise would be drastic understatement, as the moment endures for prolonged eternity.
But then to your greatest surprise—a smirk takes root on the full of his mouth.
"Oh, yeah?" He asks, and there's a degree of interest, of mischief in undertone of his voice. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
You can only endure so many surprises. You feel as though your heart is going to combust within the caging of your ribs.
"Well—I—"—You exercise the best of your vocabulary—"—Wha—?"
The smile doesn't lose its cant of playfulness; if anything, it becomes more wicked in bearings. And to your growing astonishment, he makes sidelong travel across the couch to you, his wide palms guiding his path.
"Could've saved us a lot of hassle." He continues, as he still makes his endured travel to you—letting you ogle the way his thighs flex and shift as he nears.
"Well—um." You continue, still trying to search for anything to articulate the unmooring you feel. "You see—"
"I know, I know." Leon continues, and there's a touch of abashed direction to his statement; now, his eyes dart away from you to search the details of the flooring. "I was too nervous to say something myself."
Perhaps three times is the charm—you drag your eyes up from the intense appraisal of his legs to meet his. To meet the marked intensity that bears in the arc of his gaze as he watches.
"But it's good it's out in the open now." He asserts. This makes you draw up short, your train of thought disrupted at this acknowledgement of him.
You supply the only thing that resurfaces at the foreground of your mind. "Yeah, Leon?"
"Yeah." He agrees with eager candor. "Because now I can take you on a real date. Instead of this excuse for hanging out, like the kids say."
You blink in surprise, realizing that you must provide him with sufficient response, even though internally—it is chaos.
"Oh, uh—"—You clear your throat with a disruptive chord —"—Where do you want to go?"
The roguish quality diminishes. It becomes replaced with a slow gentility that you are more familiar with seeing on the landscape of his handsome face.
"How about I surprise you?" He asks, and from the way he articulates it: here, there is a sweet-blooming excitement, a definitive joy at the prospect. He wants to take you out.
And, you realize, with sobriety that has replaced any minute inebriation you feel—you would be an absolute fool to deny this oppotrunity when it's levied your way.
"Sure." You respond. Through all the shock and awe that you've endured, you can feel your own shaky smile that makes presence on your face.
"You free tomorrow at 6?" He asks of you, his voice re-orienting you to the path available to you both. A path, you realize, you are all-too-happy to meet him at, hand-in-hand.
"You know I am." You return back to him. He chuckles—he does.
But it seems as if he's searching for the privilege to court you than go through hurried motions. That in itself makes something flip in the housing of your chest, makes something spark precious and loving.
"Then I'll see you then." It's with a slow, deliberate movement he makes as his hand reaches to find yours. You let him take the curve of it, perfect complement for your own.
His thumb grazes over the staccato of your wrist's pulse, his eyes unswerving from you. It is another prolonged eternity as he raises it to the seam of his lips, and presses his mouth to the meter of your heart.
A brand, a mark of loyalty, a token of his affection. The smile that you cannot see, though you feel it against the span of your wrist, is verbalized well in the glory of his eyes.
You feel the punctuation of his breath as he pulls away, his eyes matched against yours. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Leon makes a quick call after he leaves you, inclining his ear against the illuminated screen of his phone. There is a crackle of static as someone picks up; Sherry's perky voice speaks through the other end.
"Did it work?" She asks, with an undercurrent of necessity—she must know, that much is clear.
"It did." Leon says—now that the two of you have parted, he can make the relief, the cheer, more evident in his voice. "We're going out tomorrow."
Sherry's laughs rings out through the receiver. "It only worked because you're an old man, dad."
Leon doesn't resist the chuckle, even if the joke is made at his expense. "Well, at least this dad's still got it"
Sherry laughs again. She'll let him have this. "Talk to you tomorrow. Send me a pic of your outfit before you leave."
"Will do." Leon offers in means of farewell, before he pockets it away, starting for home. After all, he's got a lot of plans to take care of before tomorrow arrives.
Pairing: Boy dad!Leon x Boy mom!reader
Word count: 3218 words
Warnings: none!
Plot: A harmless TikTok trend turned into complete chaos when you and Leon decided to test whether your five-year-old son would share his cookies. The challenge seemed simple: Sammy got two cookies, Leon got one, and you got none. What neither of you expected was for Sammy to devise the most efficient solution possible. As Leon questioned his son’s understanding of sharing, you found yourself crying with laughter at the realization that Sammy had inherited far more of his father’s personality than either of you had anticipated. Sometimes, the funniest moments were the ones that reminded you exactly whose child he was.
A/N: this trend kept coming up on my feed lately, and I couldn’t help imagining Sammy doing it 😭 hope you guys enjoy it 🫶🏻
Taglist: @mbrickswrites @ce98ne @symphony4444 @sashadonat @mushythemushroom04 @leonlover17 (let me know if you want to be added!)
Little Kennedy series
The first sign that something was about to go terribly wrong should have been the look on your face. Leon noticed it immediately. You were curled up beside him on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through TikTok with the kind of concentration usually reserved for classified government files. Every few seconds, a grin tugged at your lips. That was never a good sign. “What?“ Leon asked, not looking up from the report he was pretending to read. You didn't answer. Instead, your grin widened. Leon sighed. “What? “ He repeated, finally looking at you. “Oh, this is perfect.“ The grin got worse. “That's not an answer.“ You finally looked up at him, eyes sparkling with the exact same expression you wore whenever you had an idea that would somehow become his problem. “Babe.“ You said, already shifting in your spot. “No.“ He said immediately. “I haven't even said anything yet.“ You complained. “You don't need to.“
Across the room, Sammy sat on the floor surrounded by toy dinosaurs, completely absorbed in a battle between a T-Rex and what was supposed to be a Triceratops but had somehow acquired wings. You pointed at your phone. “Look.“ Against your husband's better judgment, he leaned closer. A video played on the screen: parents sitting at a table, with cookies and a child. A simple little experiment. Leon watched in silence. Then another video started, and another, and another. Each one followed the same pattern. A child was given two cookies, and one parent got one cookie, the other got none. The parents waited to see what the kid would do. Some shared, some didn't, some dramatically sacrificed their own cookies. The comments underneath were filled with people crying over how sweet their children were.
You looked up at Leon expectantly. Leon stared back in complete disbelief. “No.“ You gasped. “We haven't even tried it.“ You said. “We are not using our child as a science experiment.“ Leon said firmly. “It's not a science experiment.“ You scoffed. “It absolutely is.“ He added, putting on his glasses once again, ready to keep working. You sat up straighter. “It's parent science.“ Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. “That's not a thing.“ He said, removing his glasses again. “It is now.“ He already knew he'd lost. The problem wasn't the idea itself, the problem was that once you got excited about something, you became impossible to stop. Like that day you insisted on getting ice cream after shopping when you were still pregnant. Like that day you convinced a federal agent to drive three hours for a specific brand of ice cream because you suddenly decided you wanted to try it. And yes, he was that federal agent. Leon still wasn't over that. “Come on,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “Just one video.“ You begged. “No.“ “Please.“ “No.“ “Leon.“ “No.“ You pouted. A weapon he had unfortunately developed a severe weakness ages ago.
Across the room, Sammy looked up from his dinosaurs. “Mama?“ You immediately switched targets. “Sammy, sweetheart, do you want cookies?“ The reaction was instantaneous. The dinosaurs weren't as interesting as they used to be anymore when your son launched himself to his feet, leaving them abandoned across the carpet. “Cookies?“ Leon closed his eyes. Of course, he would have to fight his son AND you. You looked at him triumphantly. “You see? He's interested.“ You said proudly. “Yeah, because he's five and you just offered him a treat.“ He sighed. “Exactly.“ You added clapping with a victorious grin. “That's not helping your argument.“ You were already getting off the couch. The discussion was over on your end. Leon recognized the signs immediately. He watched you disappear into the kitchen while Sammy followed behind like an eager little duckling. A few moments later, he heard the unmistakable sound of the cookie jar opening. Then, there was excited giggling. Then your voice. “Don't eat them yet!“ Leon sighed heavily. He already had a terrible feeling about this. Unfortunately, years of experience told him that whenever both you and Sammy looked excited about something, he was usually the one who suffered for it.
Leon should have walked away when he still had the chance. Instead, a few minutes later, he found himself sitting at the dining table while you fussed over camera angles like a professional filmmaker preparing for an award-winning documentary. “This is ridiculous.“ He said, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. “It's not ridiculous.“ You scoffed, still trying your best to capture the best angle. “It is.“ You ignored him as usual. The phone was propped up against a mug on the counter, pointed directly at the table. After adjusting it for what felt like the tenth time, you finally stepped back and nodded to yourself. “Perfect.“ Leon looked at the setup. Then at you. Then at the setup again. “You're taking this way too seriously.“ You gasped dramatically. “This is important.“ You said. “It's just cookies.“ Leon huffed. “Exactly.“ Across from you, Sammy sat in his chair, swinging his legs impatiently. “Mama, I'm hungry.“ He said. “Just a second, baby.“ The moment you turned around, Sammy immediately tried to reach for the jar with cookies. Leon caught the small hand before it got there. “Nice try.“ Sammy grinned. The exact same grin Leon saw in the mirror every morning. A fact that became more terrifying every year.
You returned carrying the cookies and carefully arranged them on the table. Two cookies in front of Sammy, one cookie in front of Leon, and nothing in front of you. Then you hurried back to the phone. Leon looked down at the messy arrangement. Then at your empty spot. Then back to the cookies. “You know he's going to give you one, right?“ He whispered, as if he was trying to keep a secret from your son. “Maybe.“ You smiled. “No, definitely.“ You raised an eyebrow. “You're his mom.“ He added. “So?“ You said, leaning a little against him, voice still low. “So he's obsessed with you.“ You laughed. “He's obsessed with you, too.“ Leon snorted. “He's started being more obsessed with you lately.“ You frowned at him. “That's not true.“ You scoffed. “You literally can't go to the bathroom without him standing outside the door like a bodyguard.“ His voice was no longer low. “If Mama disappears, I will protect her!“ Sammy nodded seriously. You burst out laughing. Leon pointed at him. “See?“ You kept laughing. “Okay, fair.“
You finally settled into your seat. The phone continued recording. Everything was ready, the experiment could begin. Sammy looked between the three places at the table. Then at the cookies. His little brain was clearly already working overtime. You exchanged a quick glance with Leon, trying not to smile, trying not to influence the outcome. Failing miserably as well. “Okay, Sammy.“ You said. His blue eyes immediately snapped to you. “You can have the cookies. But mama doesn't have any.“ The words had barely left your mouth before he looked down at the table again. His gaze landed on the two cooking in front of him, then on Leon's single cookie, then on your completely empty spot. The kitchen suddenly became very quiet. You held your breath. Leon leaned back in his chair, already convinced he knew exactly how this was going to go. There was no way his son wouldn't share. Especially when you were sitting there with nothing. Sammy stared at the cookies for another few seconds. Thinking, calculating, plotting. And something about the look on his face made Leon's confidence begin to fade slowly because he knew that expression. It was the same one Sammy got right before doing something that technically made sense but absolutely shouldn't have worked. “Oh no,” Leon muttered. You glanced at him. “What?“ Leon kept his eyes on his son. “He's plotting.“ He said quietly. “That's the whole point.“ You answered confused. “No.“ Sammy continued staring at the cookies, completely silent, completely focused. Like a tiny criminal mastermind preparing a heist. And suddenly Leon had a very bad feeling about where this was going.
For a moment, nobody moved. Sammy remained completely focused on the cookies in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were solving an advanced mathematical equation instead of deciding what to do with the three baked goods. The silence stretched. You and Leon exchanged another glance, and then another. And despite his earlier concerns, he found himself slowly relaxing because this started to look promising. Sammy's gaze slowly shifted from the cookies to you. You tried very hard not to react. Very, very hard. The tiny hopeful smile threatening to appear on your face certainly wasn't helping. Then Sammy looked at Leon, then back at you, his expression softened. And immediately your heart melted. “Oh, look at him.“ You whispered. Leon smiled. “Yeah.“ You were both already imagining how this would end. Sammy giving you one of his cookies to you, maybe even offering Leon one too. The kind of sweet moment parents saved forever and showed their children years later to embarrass them. Proof that they had once been tiny, adorable little humans. The comments on TikTok would have loved it. Not that you were planning on posting it, but still.
Sammy looked down again, and one small hand hovered over the table. You could practically see the decision being made. “There you go, buddy.“ Leon encouraged softly. The hand moved slowly towards the cookies. You felt your chest squeeze. God, he was so cute. Every time you looked at him, it felt impossible that something so wonderful had somehow ended up being yours. Across the table, Leon looked just as emotional. Neither of you was prepared for what came next. Because from every possible angle, it looked like he had decided to share. The little hand reached out confidently without any doubt, without a single sign of guilt. And both of you and Leon smiled, still certain you knew what was about to happen. You were wrong. Very, very wrong.
The moment arrived. Sammy's hand shot forward. You smiled, Leon smiled, the camera kept recording, and everything was going exactly as expected. Right up until it wasn't. Because instead of reaching for one of his cookies… Sammy reached for Leon's. The smile immediately disappeared from Leon's face. “…What?“ You blinked. Sammy grabbed the cookie sitting in front of his dad and pulled it towards himself. Leon stared, and so did you. Sammy stared at the cookie. Apparently, only one of the three people at the table understood the plan. “Buddy?“ Leon said cautiously. Sammy ignored him, his tongue sticking out of his mouth out of pure concentration. The cookie was now safely in his possession, and somehow, Leon's bad feeling only got worse. “Oh my God,” you whispered, already starting to laugh. “No, no, no.“ Sammy carefully held the cookie with both hands, then, with his tongue still out, crack. The cookie broke cleanly in half. The room fell silent. Sammy looked down at his work, satisfied, then he picked up one half and placed it in front of you. You immediately slapped a hand over your mouth. Because there it was. The sharing, the sweet moment, the proof that your son had a generous little heart. Except, before either of you could say anything, Sammy picked up the second half and placed it in front of Leon. Leon looked at the half-cookie with a miserable expression. Then at Sammy. Then, at the two untouched cookies still sitting in front of the little boy.
The realization hit all at once. You saw it happen in real time. The exact second Leon understood. Sammy hadn't shared his cookies, not a single one. Instead, he had taken Leon's cookie, broken it in half, distributed the pieces, and, somehow, managed to keep both of his own. The room remained silent for about three solid seconds. Then you completely lost it. A snort escaped your chest first, then another. Then suddenly you were bent over the table laughing so hard tears immediately started forming in your eyes. “Oh my God-.“ You couldn't even finish your sentence. Leon continued staring at the evidence. The two cookies, the half-cookie, and his son, who looked extremely proud of himself. Like he'd just solved world hunger. “There,” he announced proudly. You laughed even harder at the sound of his convinced, tiny voice breaking the silence. Leon slowly looked up. “Sammy.“ The boy beamed. “Yeah?“ Leon took a second to continue. “You took my cookie.“ Sammy nodded. “And then broke it.“ Another nod. “And gave half to Mama.“ Sammy frowned as if it was obvious. “And half to me.“ Sammy nodded one last time, slower. Leon blinked, trying to understand how he'd somehow been robbed by his own 5-year-old son.
Across the table, you were practically crying. The phone was still recording every second of it. And somehow that made it even funnier. Because from Sammy's perspective? The problem had been solved perfectly. Mama had a cookie, Papa had a cookie, and Sammy still had two cookies. Everyone won. At least, according to him. Leon, however, was beginning to suspect that his son might actually be a tiny Kennedy after all. You were still laughing, not the cute kind of laughing, nor the polite one. It was the kind of laugh where your stomach hurt, and tears were running down your face while you desperately tried to breathe, and demonic sounds came out of your chest. On the other side of the table, Leon looked personally betrayed. “Buddy.“ Sammy looked up from one of his cookies and hummed quietly in response. “That's not how sharing works.“ The boy blinked, clearly confused. “Why?“ You immediately buried your face in your hands. Leon pointed at the cookies. “Because you didn't share your cookies.“ Sammy followed the gesture, his gaze landed on his two cookies and then on the halves in front of his parents. And finally, he looked back at Leon. “But you got a cookie.“ He defended. “A half cookie.“ Leon argued. “Still cookie.“ You choked, actually choked. A noise somewhere between a laugh and a dying gasp escaped you. Leon slowly turned towards you. “This isn't funny.“ He narrowed his eyes at you as you kept trying to recover your breath. “It absolutely is.“ You said, wiping more tears from the corner of your eyes. “It's not.“ Leon said like a sulking kid. “It is.“ Sammy nodded. “Thank you, baby.“ You said.
Leon looked back at his son, determined to make him understand. “Okay, let's try again.“ Sammy took a bite of his cookie. Listening politely, or at least pretending to. “If you share something, you're supposed to give away some of your food.“ Sammy chewed, swallowed, and thought about it. Then pointed at the half-cookie sitting in front of Leon. “You have cookie.“ Leon stared. The kid wasn't technically wrong, which somehow made it worse. “That's because it was my cookie.“ Another bite, another chew, another few seconds of thought. Then Sammy shrugged. “Not anymore.“ You immediately doubled over laughing again. Leon dropped his head into his hands. The betrayal, the audacity, the flawless logic. It was unbearable. From his seat, Sammy happily continued eating his cookie, completely unbothered by the fact that he'd just dismantled every argument his father had tried to make. Finally, Leon looked back up. “You know what the worst part is?“ You were still giggling. “What?“ He pointed directly at Sammy. “He's going to be a nightmare when he's older.“ Sammy grinned. The exact same grin Leon had. You noticed it immediately, so did Leon. The realization hit both of you at the same time. Sammy's smile widened, and suddenly, Leon understood why everyone spent years apologizing for the things he'd done as a kid. Because karma had finally arrived, and it was sitting across the table eating cookies.
By this point, the experiment had completely fallen apart. You were still laughing, Leon was still trying to recover from being legally and emotionally robbed, and Sammy was happily working his way through his cookies like nothing unusual had happened. The phone continued recording from the counter, capturing every second of the little chaos. “You know,” Leon said, pointing accusingly at his son, “most kids would've given one of their cookies to their mom.“ Sammy took another bite. “Mm.“ “That was what the game was.“ Another bite. “Mm.“ “You understand that, right?“ This time, Sammy nodded. “Yeah.“ Leon blinked. “You do?“ Sammy nodded again. “Then why didn't you do it?“ Sammy looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “Because then I only have one and I'm hungry.“ You immediately snorted. Leon stared at the ceiling. Of course, that was the reason. The terrifying part was that it made perfect sense from a five-year-old's perspective.
Sammy finished chewing, then looked between the two of you. His little head tilted slightly as if he'd suddenly noticed that Leon was still sulking. The dramatic sigh that followed was pure Kennedy. “Oh, come on!“ Leon complained. Sammy glanced down at the cookie in his hand, then at you, then at Leon. For the first time all evening, he actually seemed to consider giving up one of his own cookies. You and Leon watched in surprise. Maybe there was hope after all. Slowly, Sammy broke off a tiny piece, a ridiculously tiny piece, barely a crumb. He placed it in front of you. Then broke off another equally pathetic piece and placed it in Leon's hand. “There.“ At this point, you couldn't handle it anymore. Leon looked down at the microscopic offering. “Wow.“ Sammy smiled proudly. “Now I shared my cookie.“ He said, completely convinced. “That's a crumb.“ Leon complained. “It's cookie.“ The confidence alone was impressive.
Satisfied with his work, Sammy climbed down from his chair before either of you could stop him. A second later, he squeezed himself between you and Leon on the bench. Still clutching the remainder of his cookie, tiny fingers covered in chocolate. You automatically wrapped an arm around him. Leon did the same thing from the other side. And just like that, the entire cookie debate seemed forgotten. At least by Sammy. He leaned comfortably against both of you, taking another bite before looking up with sleepy, content eyes. “Everyone happy now?“ The question was so genuine that your heart melted. “Yeah, sweetheart.“ Leon sighed dramatically, proving Sammy was definitely his son. “I guess.“ Sammy nodded once, satisfied. Problem solved, exactly as he'd intended from the beginning. You exchanged a look over the top of his head, the kind of look only parents could understand. A mixture of love, amusement, disbelief, and the growing realization that this tiny human somehow got weirder every passing day. Then Leon glanced towards the phone still recording on the counter. “Delete that.“ You gasped. “No!“ Leon narrowed his eyes at you. “Absolutely not.“ You were already reaching for the phone. “This is going in the family group chat.“ You said proudly. “Don't you dare.“ Leon warned. “Late.“ Leon groaned, Sammy giggled, and nestled safely between the two people he loved most, completely unaware he'd just become the funniest thing either of you had witnessed all week, he happily finished his cookie while the two of you laughed all over again.
sum; being inexperienced meant you didn't know your true limits. being with Leon meant you wanted to push those limits.
content; size kink, unprotected sex, overconfident!reader, sort of bratty!reader, inexperienced!reader, there's a hint of Leon being pushy/mean, but in a consensual way (idk how to tag that LMAO), squirting, a little degrading, no specific leon era for this one, this is really just pure filth because I drove myself insane last week LMFAO
wc; 3.5k
a/n; GOD, this choice was hard, guys... im so sorry to those who chose chris for my poll, but I hope this & my last chris post made up for it!!
Leon knew you were a bit of a special case from the moment he met you. Where people would usually be shy, nervous, not confident enough to approach someone, you were... quite the opposite. You approached with a fire in your eyes and a buzz rushing through you and into him, and you weren't even drinking. The moment you approached him at that club, he knew you'd be a problem. And a problem you were. A good one. A problem he was lucky to have.
Until it came to things like intimacy. You'd managed to score a few dates, and eventually, you two ended up dating. The only problem? Once it was official, you became a little insistent on intimacy. Not forcing, but definitely making moves more often. Leon wanted to, he really did, but given the talks you'd had in the past about your lack of experience and how you didn't know what you could and couldn't take because you had never even felt the need for a sex toy on your own, Leon worried that it'd stunt your intimate moments as a couple.
Eventually, of course, Leon gave in, but only to an extent. He'd eaten you out, finger fucked you like his life depended on it, fucked your thighs, and yet, he refused to let you even suck him off, let alone take him into your impossibly achey and needy pussy. He always told you he was too big. He worried it'd hurt you, whether it was your mouth or your pussy. You knew he was big, and you still insisted.
You crawled into bed with him, just like normal, snuggling into his side as he read the book you'd recently recommended to him. He tugged you closer, leaning down to kiss your temple as he closed the book, seemingly ready for bed. It was approaching 9 o'clock, and he had an early meeting, you knew. The early meeting didn't stop you from snuggling up closer until you shuffled into his lap, straddling his hips and looking down at him with a grin. His hands rested at your hips.
"Really? We're doing this again?" He mused, low and laced with exhaustion.
"For real this time, because I'm tired of you giving me excuses." You huffed, hips already beginning to move in slow, easy motions back and forth.
"They're not excuses, they're honesty and protection. You think I haven't wanted so badly to bend you over and take you? Of course I have." He scoffed, hands soothing up your sides as he exhaled slowly.
"So why haven't you?"
"Because I'm too big for you. We'd need to take a lot of time to get you ready. You can barely take three of my fingers before you tell me it's too much." He explained simply, like it was a choice between what deal to go for in a grocery store.
"So what? The shapes are entirely different! How do we even know if I could take it if we don't try?" You frowned, hips wriggling incessantly.
"No, honey. I'm not gonna let your confidence get the better of you." He moved to lift you off his lap, but you grabbed his hands and pinned them beside his head. He raised a brow at you.
"Just the tip. That's all I wanna try." You insisted.
"You know, you holding me down has no change on my answer. It's sexy, but no." He laid his head back and hummed idly.
"Leeooon!" You pouted, hips grinding harder. You could feel his cock stiffening in his sweats. "Please, Lee, just the tip, and if it doesn't fit first try, we can stop."
"Usually, the guy begs for 'just the tip'," he chuckled. "Poor thing, I've really ruined you, haven't I?" He clicked his tongue, feigning guilt.
"Not yet 'cause you won't fuck me right." You grumbled.
"Oh, is that so? I don't fuck you right? Then how come I've got you cumming on my fingers and my mouth and my fucking thighs every other night? Huh? Care to explain that, if I don't fuck you right?" He took his hands from your grasp, one hand grabbing your chin and making you whine, brows furrowing.
"You won't fuck me the right way 'cause you think I can't take it."
"I really don't think you can." He agreed.
"Please, baby!" You shifted, only for him to stop you. "Please, I promise, if it doesn't work, I won't ask again, not until you can prep me right."
"You," he exhaled, grabbing you by the waist, sitting up. "Are such a fucking brat." He cursed, rolling over so that you were flat on your back with his body pinning you down.
You looked up at him, biting at your lower lip. He watched you for a moment, squinting. "Please?" You barely whispered.
"Fine. But don't think you're not gonna get something in return for your behavior. I'm only stalling because I don't have time to fuck around."
"But you have time to fuck me? Good, I wasn't sure I'd be able to wait much longer." You grinned, giggling like a kid who'd just been told they won a million dollars.
"Fuckin' brat." He chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. You met eagerly, lips pressing into his while your arms came to wrap around his neck. Despite his rough words, his hand came to tenderly cup your cheek, deepening the kiss. His other hand worked its way downward to the hem of your night gown, pushing it upward to expose what he expected would be a lace pair of panties—tonight it was bare in two different ways. How did he not feel that through his sweats? Jesus, you knew he'd give in.
He didn't bother trailing his hands up and down, teasing, instead going straight in to press his hand against your mound. You shivered slightly, mouth falling agape at the feeling of his cold fingers pressing between your folds. Of course, he didn't take any time to prep you with his fingers, just simply using two fingers to spread your arousal and massage your clit to accumulate more to act as lube. He knew it probably wouldn't work too well at first, but it'd have to do.
Your hands reached down, pushing lazily at the waistband of his sweats. "It's unfair." You pouted.
"Unfair? Honey, you came to me like this. You came to me all shaven, no panties, not even shorts." He took your complaint, shifting to push down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. He shimmied out of the clothes and kicked them aside before settling his cock against your lower belly, letting you see the size properly. You swallowed, biting your lip as you looked up at him. He had a cocky look, like he expected you to change your mind.
"What? I didn't say stop. Keep going." You huffed, but Leon could hear the faint waiver of your voice as you spread your legs wider.
"God, you really are a needy little brat." He pulled his hips back, sliding his cock between your folds to gather some of your wetness along his length, focusing on coating his tip thoroughly. "You can still back out." He looked back up at you as he lined up with your entrance, using two fingers to carefully hold your folds open for him.
"No. Now hurry up and put your dick in me before I fall asleep." You huffed up at him, hips wriggling eagerly.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
With that, he made the first move, careful as he pushed in, his tip nudging into you. His tip didn't even get inside before you gave a whimper, thighs shaking unexpectedly as your pussy twitched against his tip. He looked down at you, brow raised.
"Shut up. Try again." You demanded, teeth gritted slightly.
Despite that not being the original arrangement, he tried again, hissing as he nearly notched the tip inside, only for your hips to twitch away, overwhelmed at the way his tip tried to intrude so suddenly.
"What did I tell you?" He deadpanned down at you. "Come on, honey, let's just do it the normal way."
"Noo! No, this is the normal way!" You insisted. "'S not my fucking fault you've got a fucking monster cock."
"Mmh, you flatter me, sweetheart." He chuckled, leaning in to shut you up with a kiss. You expected him to pull away and call it a night, but his hand crept down again, thumb pressing to your clit and getting your walls to ease up ever so slightly, a soft mewl leaving you. With you melting into the pleasure, he took a selfish opportunity to push again. You gasped, a choked sound leaving you as his tip notched inside of you finally. You gave a stifled cry, hands flying to claw at his shoulders as your eyes squeezed shut.
"Fuck—okay, I-i don't know if I can do it anymore." You admitted, huffing with uneven breaths as you looked down where you two met. It really was just the tip, and you were already backing out.
"Oh, no," he pulled back, faux pity on his face. "Poor thing, you bit off too much, and now you can't chew? What a shocker." He watched you shiver and twitch, breath shaky as his tip stayed barely notched inside your impossibly tight, unadjusted cunt. "You told me I didn't fuck you right, so now I'm gonna show you just how well I can fuck."
"'M sorry, I thought I—"
"You thought you could take it? Yeah. And you didn't listen to my warning? Of course not. You never listen." You felt him push forward again, and another squeak left your lips, followed by a gasp. He didn't even push in another inch and you were pushing at his hips to get him to pull out.
"Fuck! I'm—haah—I'm sorry!" You looked up at him, brows furrowing.
"Admit it." He demanded, cock pushing its way in ever so slightly, but the burn was far from slight. You choked on something akin to a cry, and he swatted your thigh. "Admit that you've been nothing but a bratty little bitch and now you're whiney because you can't fucking take it."
Tears brimmed your lash line, lower lip falling and letting a small whine fall from your throat. "I-i can't take it, and I.." you paused with a gasp, walls squeezing around the first inch and a half of his length. Your head fell back, nails dragging down his front as your thighs trembled. "Fuck!"
"It's too late. If I stop now, all your progress will be lost. You don't want that, do you, honey?" He teased. You shook your head desperately. The stretch burned, his cock insistent as he felt you twitching and trying desperately to make room for him inside of you.
"Please," you whispered, eyes fluttering closed.
"Please, what?" He prodded for more from you. "I can't do what you want if you don't tell me. You were so eager earlier, now you can't talk? Typical." He scoffed.
"Please, just fuck me already!" You cried, breath hitching as his hips nudged back and pushed forward, allowing another inch to fit. He went through that cycle for a while—pulling back, pushing deeper, every push forcing a gasp or a stifled moan from you—until he was fully sheathed inside of you, your pussy impossibly stretched past every limit you didn't know about. His cockhead was snug against your cervix, barely fitting him all the way in. It was a good thing Leon knew how to properly get you going, or he'd be struggling to fit more than he already was.
By the time he was snug, fully pushed inside of you, your head had fallen limp, eyes closed, lips open with heavy breaths falling. He found it amusing, given he hadn't even tried to fuck you yet, and you were already beyond spent and shaky. He chuckled, watching you finally lift your head to look down where your bodies met.
"Holy fuck." You breathed. You could see a small bulge in your lower belly where he had somehow miraculously managed to fit inside of you, now bulging with his massive he was. Not only that, but you had never felt this full. Even when he was using his fingers to fuck you and you complained that his fingers were too thick and you felt 'sooo full'.
"You happy now? Now that you've got a proper cock inside of you?" He taunted quietly, bringing a hand to grasp your chin and tilt your head back and forth, he fingers lightly squishing your cheeks together.
"Uh-huh." You tried to nod in his grasp, dazed and, although embarrassingly, cock-drunk without even being properly fucked. He wasn't even grinding his hips, making no attempt to move, and he relished in the way your body responded to him. He thought it was the best thing ever when you'd cry and squirm, and this made things a whole lot better. He leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of you stretched out around his cock.
He dropped one hand, thumb finding your clit. You twitched, whining slightly as your walls clamped down around him. "What, you're already that fucking close? You're getting all twitchy and whiney so soon." He purred, hips pulling backward slowly, cock dragging out of you until his tip was all that was left. You looked down and watched, brows furrowed with need.
It burned with both pain and pleasure as he pushed back in faster than before. You moaned louder this time, back arching as your hands flew to grab his shoulders for support. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape as he fucked his cock into you at a pace that overwhelmed your senses. Pain burned away and morphed into a new kind of pleasure that you didn't know you could achieve.
He angled his hips lower, his leaky cockhead pushing up against your g-spot as he thrusted into you, his thumb still focused on your clit. He meant it as a tease originally, but with how twitchy and shaky you'd become in just a minute or two of slow, rough, deep thrusts, he could feel that you were already close. His tease ended up being right. He growled slightly at the thought, brows knitted and nose scrunched in a focused manner as he looked down where your bodies met. You became oversensitive quick, your orgasm building. You tried to reach down to get his hand to slow down its abuse against your puffy clit, but he simply pushed your hand away and swatted at the throbbing bundle of nerves.
You cried out, hips bucking. "Lee—oh, fuck, please!" Your body locked for a moment, eyes rolling back as you bit your lip and fell into stifled whimpers and sobs, your orgasm quiet but intense, rippling through your body so fast you didn't even warn him. He fucked you through it, hips speeding up as your cunt clenched around him. Once your vision cleared, you looked up at him, dazed and mushy.
"And you think I cum too fast?" He chuckled. "Look at you—damn near squirting on my cock just because it's so, so big, and your poor little pussy can't take it." He purred deeply and reached with his other hand to your face, holding your head still by your chin so you couldn't look away as he pumped his cock back and forth, fucking you into overstimulation without even offering a breather. "I wonder—" He paused with a grunt, examining your face with a devilish look you didn't recognize. "You think I could make you squirt just from using my cock?"
Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening with tears that had spilled already. "Wait, n-no, no, 's too much, Lee!" You gasped, hands pushing at his lower torso, another sob ripping from your throat. "No—ooh!"
"C'mon, pretty girl, didn't you say I couldn't fuck you right? Isn't that what you wanted? To be fucked dumb on a fat cock?" He let go of your chin and brought a hand down just a little to wrap around your throat. You squeaked, pussy fluttering around him at the threat of him constricting your airway. He didn't, though. You got more than enough excitement from just the threat alone.
You couldn't be bothered with answering him. You simply laid there and took it—relishing in the sensitivity and the way he was absolutely ruining your pussy. Leon knew he was ruining you for anyone else, and that alone drove him crazy. He could feel his own orgasm building, cock twitching and balls drawing tight to his body. He denied himself the release, persisting in order to make sure he proved just how good he could make you feel.
He had a point to prove. His thumb resumed the previous ministrations on your clit, two fingers rapidly strumming with a firm pressure. You twitched, gasping as your eyes rolled back and fluttered. Your hands grabbed tightly at his forearm of the hand that was around your neck, looking up at him with an abrupt sob leaving your lips.
"Lee, please," you choked out, brows furrowing as you quivered beneath him, abdomen clenching as your body built up to the peak of the coil in your belly.
"Go on, take it. Take what you asked for and I'll make sure you're satisfied for fucking weeks." He slammed his hips harder, the skin slapping lewdly with the added sounds of your arousal coating his balls as they smacked against your ass. You tried to stifle it, but a scream of pleasure ripped from you as he subconsciously tightened his hand around your throat. Still not constricting, but it was enough to make you dizzy.
"Leon! Fuuuuck, fuckfuckfuck—'m cumming!" You sobbed, legs jolting outward as your hips tried to pull away, your orgasm rushing through you like never before. What you didn't process yet was the stream of clear liquid spurting from your sopping cunt, making an absolute mess out of his lower abdomen, your own abdomen, and the sheets below. He fucked you through it, both hands finally coming to grab your hips and properly use you like some kind of cock sleeve as he chased his high. Tears stained your cheeks, your moans becoming higher and longer as you squirmed and tried to run away from the pleasure.
"Stop fucking moving." He dug his nails into your hips. His demand was quickly followed by a growl, hips slamming and his thrusts becoming uneven as his balls twitched and his cock pulsed, his heavy load finally spilling into you. He had you so full that his cum seeped out around him as he bottomed out and let your pussy twitch and pulse, milking him of every last drop. Both of you were shaking. He stayed buried inside of you as he leaned down and mouthed as your neck. He lazily ground his hips, and you cried quietly, thighs squeezing around his hips.
"Lee," you sniffled, shaky hands searching desperately for his.
"Shh," he soothed, slowly pulling out of you as he grabbed your hands. You felt so empty, but so unbelievably satisfied. "Breathe, honey. I've got you." He mused softly, kissing along your collarbone until he found his way up to look at your face and assess the final product.
You were a mess. Tears down your cheeks, drool spilling down the right side of your face, hair messy and sticking to the sides of your face, lips kiss swollen and still wet. If he didn't know better, he'd try to start up round three, but given your sniffles and the way you shook your head, he didn't even try. He got more than what he thought.
He took his hands away only for a moment so he could brush your hair out of your face and gently wipe the tears and drool from your cheeks. When he sat back and guided you to follow into his lap, you curled into his hold, his arms wrapping around you delicately.
"You took me so well." He whispered, kissing the side of your head. "I know I got a little mean," he sighed, prepared to apologize for not listening to your cries.
"Can we do that more?" You asked, looking up at him as you shifted shakily in his lap. "The.. the whole.."
"Baby, we just did a lot." He chuckled. "But we'll talk more tomorrow." He scooted away from the mess and hoisted you into his hold, standing from the bed. "How about a shower?"
You nodded, falling into his hold as you closed your eyes. He really fucked the energy out of you. "Told you I could handle it. Might not be very experienced, but I can take what's given to me." You mumbled quietly.
Clearly, he didn't fuck the attitude out of your system yet.
"Brat." He lazily swatted your butt, only to lean in and kiss your nose with the utmost care.
"You like it."
"Only when it results in you shutting your mouth."
"Jerk."
He chuckled, setting you on the bathroom sink counter to start the shower.
pairing: leon kennedy x reader [no y/n used, gender netural]
summary: leon comes home.
tags: fluff, blurb
warnings: none
wc: 896
♪ — take me down by the smashing pumpkins [spotify] [youtube]
a/n: i promise im working on full length stuff. i wasnt anticipating even writing tonight but this popped in my head and i really wanted to write it. ily
Leon is dead tired. Ready to pass out. Autopilot drops his keys in the bowl next to the door; habit kicks his boots off.
His heart tugs when he sees you curled up on the couch. You've fallen asleep waiting for him again. Credits roll on a movie playing on a low volume. The shadows on your face are sharp compared to your softened features. Your brow loose, lips relaxed in that content frown you make when you're deep in REM. It's an expression he's found himself jealous of at times. You sleep so easily— hardly any nightmares compared to the ones that scar him more often than they don't. But stronger than that jealousy is a relief for your sense of safety.
He can't bring himself to wake you. It's late, and he knows your sleep starts to become more irregular when he's away. He can’t bear to take any more from you. Even as he thinks so, he can hear your stern voice fighting with him. You're not being selfish for wanting comfort, Leon.
Easier to say than to feel. He's still learning.
The plush blanket has slipped slightly off of you in your sleep. He pulls it back over your waist and tucks it in again. Your socks poke out of the bottom of the cocoon. You always keep your place cold for him, because he runs warm. Part of him wonders if it's just an excuse to be closer to him. He smiles at the thought as he lays a kiss on your head. A small hum rumbles from your throat in your sleep, as if even when unconscious, you can’t help but voice your happiness at the affection.
Leon pulls himself from you and trudges to the bathroom to clean himself up. He doesn't take his time. He ensures the very basics happen. The muck from his body, his soul, spins down the drain as he washes. The scent of your body wash replaces the sweat, the horror. He loses count of the amount of sighs of relief that the hot water pounding at his sore back gives him.
He throws his clothes in the washer. Brushes his teeth. Now three acts of the most minimum care he can take without passing out from exhaustion.
Once he's dressed in sweatpants and a thin t-shirt, he doesn't crawl into bed. The cold sheets are unwelcoming. Crisply made, as if you had yet to touch them since you'd woken this morning. If you’d even slept in them at all. Leon thinks it's a ridiculous idea to curl up in that ghost of you, when you're warm and real in the next room. His already aching back be damned.
He returns to the living room. Your face is still relaxed, deep in sleep. Your cheek squished against a soft pillow, arm shoved underneath and hanging limply off the couch cushion. It's undeniably cute, and for the first time in days he feels a sense of peace. Happiness, even. There's no monsters here. Just you in an old shirt of his, glowing in the light of the TV screen.
He kneels on the floor and places another whisper of a kiss on your forehead, waiting a few seconds to see if you happen to stir. It's barely an attempt to wake you; sleep has its hold on you. He doesn't fight it.
He still longs to be close to you. To replace the cold fingers from abandoned facilities with your warmth.
The sofa is really only built for the both of you when you're half on top of each other. He refuses to even attempt to wiggle his way in there right now. Maybe if it was a night after a week of him being at home, when he knows you've slept well, he’d do so. When everything is lighthearted, and you'd put on a faux pout when he wakes you from your slumber. And you’d cuddle into him anyway, clearly more comfortable with him squeezed onto the crowded furniture with you.
Leon retrieves the other pillow on the couch from next to your socked feet. He's a little too envious of the one you're currently hugging. For now, its twin will do. He scoots the coffee table further from the couch to make space for his tired body. The cheap laminate is cold, but he's slept on worse. He muses that he'd probably be able to get a full eight hours on a bed of spikes as long as you're next to him.
It's a ridiculous sight, his massive form settling down on the floor next to you like a golden retriever waiting by your side. Meanwhile, you're cozy as ever in the plush cushions above him.
For Leon, it's more than enough. knowing you're safe and sound.
He takes one last risk, one that almost seems like higher stakes than the hell of work he's just been through. To reach up and rest his palm on top of your hand. It’s well worth the reward. His fingers curl at your wrist to feel your steady pulse. The rhythm slows his own heart to a leisurely pace. He studies the rise and fall of your shoulders, his own syncing alongside it without even trying. Sleep drags his eyelids shut before he knows it, and just like that, Leon Kennedy is domesticated once again.
Beyond the thicket of whispering trees, there it lay before you, in all its sapphire grandeur.
The ocean.
You ran onto the beach, despite the countless warnings you’d received growing up. The golden fingers of sunset splayed across the rippling water’s surface, beckoning you closer. An explosion of pink stained the sky, with smears of orange, and the creeping promise of a dark twilight.
Digging your toes into the sand, you became rooted as the growing tide glided over your feet, lapping at your shins. With your arms spread wide, you soaked up those final rays, inhaled the breeze until you could taste its salt.
You loved the sea. Always had. You couldn’t understand why you were forbidden to swim in it.
‘You can only look,’ your parents had initially warned. Then it progressed to, ‘just stay on the shore, the sand is safe.’
They hadn’t permitted this, though. Peering down at your rebellion, you chewed your lip, intermingling both excitement and guilt. Despite the crawl of winter, the water was unusually warm, and you felt a strange stirring of emptiness inside.
The final flash of sunset, and then it was gone, swallowed by the horizon. You hugged your elbows, tears welling. It was foolish to be upset, yet you were. It wasn’t fair. How could the sun take so long to traverse the sky, but only give a handful of seconds before vanishing at the end?
You were obsessed with sunsets. They were your favourite colour in all the world, and this was the only place that gave you such glory. With a sulky pout, you retreated from the water, coming to sit where it was dry. Knees tucked and chin atop them, you stared out at the gentle swell for a while, more than content to listen to its lapping lullaby.
“You shouldn’t be here,” came a drawling, hypnotic voice.
Whipping about, you saw no one. Goosebumps rippled across your skin. Bolting onto your feet, fists weakly clenched, you called out, “Who’s there?”
“Out here, little one,” the mysterious voice returned, almost echoing, as if it were inside your head.
With a frown, you swept your gaze onto the ocean, heart galloping into your throat when you spotted him.
A Lemurian.
You stumbled away, but the sand was uneven, and you fell onto your rear, eyes about to fall out of your head as you gaped.
Lemurians never spoke to humans. They weren’t a myth, but they were certainly a mystery. One might consider them a sign of good fortune… or a terrible omen.
With a shaky breath, you regained your composure, then, with a bow of your head, you mumbled, “I’m so sorry I’ve disturbed you. I’ll leave immediately.”
How stupid of you. Of course this was the reason the beach was forbidden. You inwardly cursed, praying that you might slip free of this ethereal creature.
Humans weren’t permitted to cross Lemurian territory—no exceptions. It was just rather rotten luck that no one knew what those territories were. It all relied on tragic tales of drowned sailors or lured women.
You’d half-turned to run when the Lemurian’s honeyed voice ensnared you. “Don’t leave.” His tone was so sweet, yet his stare held sharp command.
Shivering, both from the cold and from a touch of fear, you accidentally met his gaze. He was extraordinary. Ethereal. You couldn’t believe it, and even as you pinched the skin of your inner wrist, the dream didn’t shatter.
This was real.
The Lemurian was a beautiful kind of masculine, the kind that only existed in paintings. A straight nose, pouty lips, sparkling eyes, and that lean, muscled build. His hair fell around him like swaying branches of wisteria, his glowing fins poking out of it.
A delicate crown weaved about his head, like golden coral, decorated with the occasional pearl. To match such a piece, his bared torso dripped with similar jewellery, complementing his Lemurian markings.
“Come closer.” He phrased it like a question, yet you knew it wasn’t.
With an outstretched hand, you felt your own drift up, a longing filling the centre of your chest to take it. With your other hand, you clamped down onto your wrist and jerked them both down your front, shaking free of his siren spell.
“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.
“And yet you are,” the Lemurian smiled, still awaiting you. “So come closer.”
When you slipped your hand into his, you gasped at how warm it was. Smooth, too. Like glass. With such tender politeness, he brought it up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss on the back.
“Is this the correct custom?” He rasped against your skin.
Your cheeks went pink. “It’s… well, it’s usually when—”
Your words fell short. At a distance, you hadn’t noticed the colour of his eyes, but now that you were standing in the water, holding hands with a Lemurian, you couldn’t breathe.
They were your colour.
“Your eyes…” You breathed at him, in true wonder. “They’re like sunsets.”
He laughed, the sound of it rich and tinkling. “What is your name, little human?”
You told him, or maybe you didn’t. You were too lost in that swirl of amber and amethyst.
“I am Rafayel,” he released your hand, and you nearly whimpered at the loss of contact. “And these are my shores.”
Reality rolled through you, and as if waking from a dream, you blinked a few times. “I didn’t mean to trespass,” you insisted, fear furrowing your face. “Please, I truly didn’t! I just like to watch the sunsets on the water. But I’ll never come back, I swear it to you!”
Not much was known about Lemurians, and you didn’t want to risk the wrath of one. Begging was not beneath you.
“Never come back? And break my heart? Surely you wouldn’t do that.”
Your breath failed you. “No… I wouldn’t…”
+++
Rafayel was fascinated by humans. He pried for every detail, from your language right down to bodily function.
“What do you eat?” He probed, resting his chin on a hand.
He had noticed your constant shivering as you conversed by the ocean shore, the nightly breeze laced with a southern chill. Guiding you along in the dark, you were surprised to find a secret cavern. Having you gather some old driftwood, he lit a fire, and there you sat by it, warm and comfortable, while Rafayel remained in the water, leisurely draped over a rock.
It was almost comical that a creature of the sea could control fire. Regardless, you were grateful.
“We eat all sorts of things. Fruit, vegetables, animals. Some things we cook, otherwise we get sick.”
“What is your favourite?”
You pursed your lips as you considered. “I like sweeter things. We have a dish that’s called cake. We can make it with all sorts of flavours, but I think orange might be my favourite.”
You had no idea why Rafayel had taken such a great interest in your knowledge. Surely other people out there had caught his attention—you were still young, yet to see the world, to take what it had to offer.
Maybe you really were the only one breaking the rule about the ocean.
Sneaking a glance at the Lemurian, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about that.
“How do your legs work?”
You giggled. “I suppose the same way your tail does. I don’t know. I just use them.”
He snorted, but you spied his amused smirk.
You were too shy to ask him questions about Lemurian things. This was a miracle, and you were terrified of scaring him off, or worse, angering him. There was still a risk here. These were his shores, he’d said so himself, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted to you, since you were a no-good trespasser.
But the more you talked with Rafayel, the more you felt secure. He wouldn’t hurt you. Well, not out of vengeance. Maybe out of curiosity, at most. To see how your human body differed from his.
“Can I touch your foot?” He asked, far too excited.
Your laugh was nervous, perhaps embarrassed. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Please? I will be very careful. I find them fascinating.”
Holding your breath, you slid your foot closer until it was within his reach. He leaned in and, with those warm hands, began to inspect it. You couldn’t suppress your shiver as you watched him, unsure whether it was apprehension or enjoyment.
It was endearing to see him so enraptured by something so simple as a foot. “So bizarre,” he murmured under his breath.
Your breath hitched as one hand began to sculpt higher, caressing the muscle of your calf. Cheeks growing hot, you pulled out of his grasp. Rafayel’s brows fell into a harsh scrunch. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
You cleared your throat. “Oh, no. It’s just… Well, humans don’t normally touch each other’s legs. I’m not used to it.”
“I had no idea they were sensitive,” he nodded, intrigued.
No longer as flustered, you let out a breathy laugh. “They’re not. Well, sometimes. It… it really depends on the circumstance.”
Rafayel cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
The tips of your ears were scorching. “Um, oh. It’s… Uhh—”
“Your face is very red. Are you alright?”
You snapped your eyes shut, vibrating with embarrassment.
“Some parts of us are naturally always sensitive, other parts aren’t. But they can be, depending on the type of touch.”
Rafayel pursed his lips, and after a long moment, he lit up. “You mean like a mating ritual?”
“Exactly. Yes.”
Rafayel then frowned again, slowly considering you. “But we are not the same species. Your body still responds?”
You needed to change the conversation. Immediately. Before you melted away out of mortification. You swore your neck was a vivid shape of crimson right now, the heat that was coming off you.
“Yes,” you managed to splutter. “It’s not that I, uh, want to. Sometimes our bodies just… react to things. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t be foolish. I am very intrigued. In fact, I’d love to see more.”
You choked on a surprised yelp, fully flinching at his words. “What!”
He merely shrugged. “Lemurians can only mate once a year, and it isn’t through touch. I’d like to know more about humans and their mating rituals.”
“You don’t… touch each other?”
He shook his head. “We could, but it’s not something we do.”
“Humans… well, we touch each other. A lot. In many places. It’s like what I was trying to explain before.” Your humiliation ebbed away, just like the tide. Here was simply a mind that yearned for knowledge. For whatever reason, this beautiful creature was trusting your explanations and took every word as fact. You had a duty to do this properly. This could be the beginning of a cultural connection! The possibilities… and if all it meant was you had to explain what sex was, well…
“We can mate whenever we want. And it’s not always just to have children. Most of the time, it’s for fun.”
Rafayel’s brows nearly shot off his face. “Truly?”
You nodded, smiling now, finding his curiosity oddly cute. “The body parts that we use are very sensitive. And it feels very good. That’s why.”
“Can I see?”
And just like that, your stomach twisted.
“Your face is red again. What does that mean?”
“It…” with a shaky breath, you tried to smile through it. “I’m embarrassed. Those parts are very private, Rafayel. We don’t show them to anyone.”
Rafayel nodded. “So you only use these special parts for sex? Fascinating.”
Your mouth parted, the words stuttering from you. “Well, no. We can use everything. The main part of sex does involve those parts. But it doesn’t have to.”
“Explain.”
“Humans sometimes use their hands or mouths. There’s really… Um.” You bit your lower lip, far too self-conscious to continue. “Rafayel, this is… I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you these things. I’m not very experienced.” You mumbled the last part.
Alarm flashed over his face. “Oh, I am terribly sorry. I thought you were an adult.”
Way to inadvertently twist the knife. “I am,” you sighed. “I’m just… undesired. No one wants me.”
Rafayel shifted, face contorting into the most bewildered pout. “I’m very confused. You are an adult human, and you are beautiful. How are you undesired?”
A warmth spread through you at the sincerity of his words. “You… think I’m beautiful?”
“I have seen many humans. I would consider you stunning.”
A chesty, sorrowful laugh escaped you. “Thank you.”
“If only I were a human man,” Rafayel murmured, something flashing behind his eyes. “You have given me a taste of your life, but I can’t help but long for more.”
“There’s really not much else I can offer you, though.” You tucked your chin down, hiding from his intense gaze, like he was trying to pry something from your head.
“You have enthralled me,” his voice crawled along your skin like velvet. “I want to give you everything.”
Everything froze but your rapid heart, which lurched up into your mouth. Your eyes followed his movements as Rafayel reached to touch you.
“Show me how,” he rasped, coming into contact with your ankle. His ascending hand left a smoldering heat in its wake, your skin tingling something fierce in response. “Show me how to give you pleasure.”
You whimpered as he approached your aching core, not that he knew it. But he was observant. He knew that his touch was stirring things within you, eyes narrowing with satisfaction as your eyes fluttered closed and your breath grew shallow.
“Tell me to stop,” he said softly.
“I don’t want you to,” you admitted with a moan.
Standing up, you removed your garments, and as he stared up at you from the water, you felt electric. He tilted his head as his sunset gaze devoured your naked body, partly curiosity, but the other something darker—sinful.
Rafayel slipped off the rock and sat in the shallow water, and with the flare of his hand, ignited his flames beneath, warming it for you. Slowly, you stepped in, coming to sit beside him with a twist of nerves, but also exhilaration.
Wrapping an arm about your waist, he secured you against him, hand resting on the plush of your thigh.
“Guide me,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. With a shiver, you placed your hand atop his, and your chest tightened at the size difference. He was lean, sure. But he was much larger than you’d anticipated.
With scalding slowness, you guided Rafayel until those gorgeous, long fingers brushed against your slick core, softer than moth wings. You arched up with a whispering gasp.
“Tell me,” his voice had dropped into a rasp, almost husky, scraping against your cheek now. “If I were a man, is this where you’d take me?”
You nodded weakly, eyes rolling back as with one slow push, his finger sank into you.
“So wet,” he murmured, heavy with lust. “How does it feel?”
“So good,” you moaned, grinding your hips for some friction, to have him go deeper. “But you can give me more, if you want.”
Obeying your plea, he slipped in a second, and beyond all reason, Rafayel knew exactly what to do. Curling his fingers just right, he fucked you. Braving a peep at him, your cheeks grew aflame, for he was staring right into you, lips parted and a heavy-lidded expression on his face.
“Your thumb,” you gasped at him, astonished at how easy he worked you, fingers plunging in and out in a languid pace. “Press… here…” your hand slipped back down to show him your clit.
When he pressed down with delicious pressure, you choked on your scream, your orgasm rising within you, promising to be a blistering, white-hot release.
“Not too much, but not too little,” you panted at him, your pleasure threatening to burn you from the inside out.
“You’re squeezing my fingers,” he observed, a sinful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Am I doing well?”
“Yes,” you whined, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, falling away into bliss. “So, so good, Rafayel…”
His increasing pressure had your vision blurring, mouth agape, senses drowning in bliss. He didn’t need any more of your guidance; your expressions and reactions were more than enough to push you closer to the edge. With a final moan, you plunged into an electric wave of pleasure, ripping through your body like lightning.
Circling your clit, Rafayel earned a needy sob from you, and you clenched hard around his fingers, riding out the final wave of your release.
When he withdrew from you entirely, you whimpered, slumping against his large body. A new kind of heat bloomed through your abdomen when you watched him suck on his fingers, tasting your slick.
The glimmer in his eye had your mouth go a little dry.
“I’ve used my hands,” he stated, a slight drawl to his voice. “Now I’d very much like to use my mouth.”
1.8k words — Summary: After a misunderstanding between you, Leon, and a handsy intern you caught climbing him like a tree, you decide to take this as an opportunity to re-train him.
Warnings: Sub!re9 Leon + passionate munch!re9 Leon idgaf, dom!reader, fem!reader with afab anatomy, oral sex (fem receiving), squirting, dry humping, coming in pants, old Leon down horrendous for his partner, mentions of leash and collaring, dirty talk, possible OOC Leon
Author’s note: I wrote this at 2 am then blacked out and had no memory of what I was writing. Upon rereading I’m literally clutching my pearls idk what kind of demon timing my tired self is on 😭😭😭😭 enjoy this overly freaked out fic
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Leon could come right now, just from fucking into the bed while your thighs squeezed his head mercilessly. Your sheets were sure to be ruined as his clothed cock—leaky as a faucet—rubbed against the fabric with every strained pass of his hips.
He wanted to do this every day. He wanted you every day. Shit, the more he thinks about it, the more he does feel like he’s about to come as he devours your pussy.
You took the lead tonight, pent up and particularly pissed after visiting Leon at work for lunch, only to find an intern all over him, hands clasping onto his shoulders. Despite his reassurances that she ‘surprised’ him and explanations of how he ‘tried to shut her down’ in the argument that followed later that evening, you were convinced he was losing focus. Now, you’re using this as an opportunity to re-train him.
As punishment for being “distracted,” (though eating your pussy is the last thing he considers punishment), you put Leon on his knees and ordered for him to ‘fix it,’ followed by: “You’re gonna make me come at least four times before you can even think about palming your cock.”
You promised to have him pussy whipped and aching. You’ve made good on your promise so far.
He’s made you come three times by spearing his tongue and fingers into you for the past hour, all while he’s been left high and dry. God, he wishes you’d let him finish—he’d spurt every rope of his cum into his boxers at your very command, then happily continue to drown himself in your soaking cunt. Every time his breathing gets just a bit too heavy—a telltale sign that he’s close—you pull him away from your pussy and slip your tongue into his mouth instead, only releasing the kiss when you know he’s not still at risk of blowing his load.
Leon is simultaneously in heaven and hell. Your slick pours steadily into his mouth like ambrosia, insatiably greedy with your cunt. Every taste he gets of you draws low, desperate moans from his throat that vibrate directly into you. His hands tighten their grip on your plush thighs and ass for more leverage, somehow pulling you even closer to him.
How can you think he doesn’t pay as much attention to you anymore? How could he possibly think about anyone else when he’s so completely at your mercy?
Picking up speed in time with the increase of your pornographic moans, he latches his lips around your clit and sucks harshly. Your back draws tight like a bow into an arch off the bed, hands exhaustedly gripping Leon’s graying locks of hair for stability—which only makes his cock throb and spurs him on further.
Through whines and pants, you manage to sigh out, “I’m gonna come.” You shamelessly grind up into Leon’s relentless mouth, falling apart as he continuously switches between thrusting into your pussy and licking stripes up your folds.
“‘M yours to use,” he slurs, muffled against you because he refuses to fully pull away from you. “Come alllllll over my face. Make a mess on me, sweet girl.”
Leon’s positively filthy words, paired with a particular swirl of his tongue on your clit, has you careening off the edge, blinding white pleasure pulsing throughout your veins. As you come down completely spent, you vaguely register the string of curses you let out as you tug strongly on Leon’s hair, followed by a louder, broken groan from Leon himself.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. The second you gush squirt onto his mouth and chin, Leon is coming in his boxers before he can even will himself to hold off. He continues to twitch against the bed with every rope of cum he shoots, releasing near pained whines into your pussy. He drops his forehead against your lower stomach while the shocks of both of your orgasms subside.
After the tension is fully loosened from your bodies, he lets himself rest more deeply on your stomach for a while, tilting his head slightly to press his cheek against you. Pure bliss settles into Leon’s chest—and recovering cock—as he softly kneads your sensitive thighs with his hands, the cold press of his wedding band making you shiver. Everything is peaceful for a moment, until he tenses against you in realization.
He disobeyed you. He came when you specifically told him not to—the stickiness of his boxers makes it apparent. In the calm of the room, your softening breaths, and the white noise of your bedside fan, he hopes you’re too dazed to notice anything. If you did, he was sure you wouldn’t let him come again for a week.
All is forgotten as you sink deeper into the bed, pulling Leon up to rest his head on your chest and running a gentle hand through his hair. The motion calms his worries, a contented, puppy-like sigh slipping out from his mouth. He buries his face in your tits like they’re his salvation.
Thank God his badass coworkers can’t see him now.
His coworkers. Leon’s mind flits to the new intern whose name he can’t remember that he’ll definitely be reporting to HR. He eventually breaks the comfortable silence with the topic you both were avoiding, lifting his head to see you. “I really wasn’t doing anything with that intern.”
He can see you visibly deflate under him at his millionth reassurance. “Never had eyes for anyone but you, I promise,” he grabs your left hand to press a kiss to your ring, “you’re it for me.”
You blow out a breath through your teeth, eyebrows furrowing in exhaustion rather than irritation. “I think I’ve known that all day. I just…you’ve been gone so much on these ‘missions’ you ‘can’t talk about,’ and seeing you with someone else scared me, even if I knew you weren’t interested in her,” you glance away from Leon, “I wanted something to be angry about. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re it for me,” he repeats, tilting his head to keep eye contact with you. He only relents when he gets a smile to crack onto your face, dropping his head back to your chest.
Though he reverts back into an empty-headed state at first, he suddenly grows more embarrassed of himself as his post-orgasm brain fog clears. Leon is a very serious, very official pushing-50 DSO agent, and you made him come in his pants like he was an inexperienced 21-year-old again, then coddled him afterwards.
The worst part, he thinks, is how much he likes it. You, in all your angelic glory, are the only one he trusts enough to act like this with—he’d let you have your way with him any time you want. He can feel himself flush at the thought of coming to your workplace and being kept under your desk. Nearly the entire top half of his body heats up as he pictures you, hard at work but slipping in composure while he fervently laps at your clit.
Much to his chagrin, you notice the pink tint dusting Leon’s ears that are illuminated by moonlight coming from the bedroom window. Confused, you’re about to sit up and question him when your naked thigh accidentally brushes across the damp spot on his crotch. Another tense moment passes before he can tell that knowing, smug look you wear every time you know you’ve worked him up is spreading across your perfect features. He feels the vibrations of laughter rumbling from your chest before he hears it. “Leon.”
Unsure of what to do, Leon moves to dive into your neck, letting out a hum in response that he hopes sounds casual as he plants kisses along the column of your throat. He’s hoping you’ll drop whatever you’re about to start, but he knows with absolute certainty that you won’t.
“Did you come just from going down on me?” you do your best to stifle another snicker, but it bubbles up from your throat anyways.
“If I say yes, will you hold that against me?” He rumbles against you, clearly sheepish.
You ponder for a moment before shrugging noncommittally, “I technically should…but you know I’m bad at holding grudges.”
“You’re an everyday saint, baby,” Leon muses as his hand finds your chin, pulling you gently into a chaste kiss. “Y’just taste so goddamn sweet,” he mumbles against your lips in between continued pecks, “Can’t blame a man for being attracted to his wife.”
“Guess not,” you grin as you loop your arms around his neck, “It’s sexy, anyway. I like you a little pathetic.”
Leon, very lamely, tries to feign nonchalance over your words with a corny quip, “Next thing I know, you’ll have me in a collar with a matching leash.”
“Don’t give me any ideas,” is all you say, sounding as serious as ever aside the teasing lilt Leon had in his voice.
“You are a perverted freak, you know that?” He lets out a breath of amusement, brushing his nose against yours. Even as he makes fun of you, heat crawls up his neck at the visuals his head is suddenly filled with. A leash would look good in your hands…
He leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks lowly, “You can restrain me however you want. Pretty sure it comes with the whole marriage deal.”
“Of course, I remember that in the vows. In between the sickness and health part, right?” You quip, before realizing that you just made a stupid quip. “Oh god…I’m turning into you. I’m corny and old.”
Leon can’t help but fully laugh into your ear, giving your ass a taunting squeeze. He doesn’t miss the nearly imperceptible moan that escapes from you at the action. “This old man just made you squirt on his face, and he’s gearing up to do it again.”
Your legs slide up his to lock around his waist, pressing your palms against his hard chest, “right, you owe me one more orgasm, plus an extra for coming early,” a sly smile stretches across your features again. “I’ll be sweet enough to let it slide for now, but if you do it again I’ll make sure to keep you so pent up this week that you’ll come just from looking at my pussy.”
He can’t get enough of you, cock already stiffening against you once more. With his renewed ELPIS anecdote energy, he hasn’t been able to control himself. You invade his thoughts and senses to an overstimulating degree. “Well,” he begins as he grabs your ankles to delicately remove your legs from around him, before making his descent back to where you’re dripping for him “you are the boss.”
Hello Key, I'm here for the drabble request. It's an odd one, but hopefully, you'll be interested.
Leon Kennedy/angst to fluff/figuring out secret identity through the baby.
Basically, the reader is RE world's spiderman.They had a baby together, and the baby is showing signs of spider abilities. Puzzle pieces starts clicking for Leon and decides to confront her about it.
Inherited
Pairing: Death Island!Leon x Spiderman!Reader
Word count: 1000 words
Warnings: none!
Plot: Leon always knew something was different about your daughter. Maybe it was the way she seemed impossibly strong for a ten-month-old. Maybe it was how she never seemed scared of heights. Or maybe it was because one day he saw your daughter happily crawling across the ceiling. As Leon desperately searched for a logical explanation, one terrifying possibility began to form in his mind. Because babies didn't develop spider powers on their own. And if his daughter inherited from someone... Then what exactly had you been hiding from him all these years?
A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for requesting ❤ This is my very first time writing something Spiderman related since I'm not really familiar with that universe, but I really enjoyed writing this ❤ Hope you enjoy it as well ❤
P.S: Since anon didn't specify which version of Leon, I imagined it with Death Island/Re6 Leon, but it could be any version you'd like ❤
How to request
You always thought you had hidden it well. For years, you balanced impossible things without letting them touch. By day, you were a mother, a partner, and one of the few people capable of convincing Leon S. Kennedy to actually take a day off. By night, you swung between buildings, stopped robberies, rescued civilians, and returned home before sunrise with barely enough time to shower away the evidence. Leon never suspected a thing. At least, that was what you believed.
The trouble started with your daughter. She was barely ten months old when the first sign appeared. You found her clinging to the living room wall, not standing beside it, not holding onto furniture. She was actually attached to it. For one terrifying second, you thought exhaustion had finally broken your brain. Then your daughter laughed, slapped a tiny hand against the wallpaper, and crawled sideways. You nearly dropped your coffee. Getting her down had been difficult, keeping her from doing it again had been impossible. A week later, she stuck to the refrigerator. Three days after that, she somehow ended up hanging beneath the dining table. You explained away every incident before Leon saw them. Until you couldn't.
The disaster happened on a quiet evening. Leon sat on the couch, half watching television while your daughter played on the carpet. You were making dinner when the familiar sound of delighted baby giggling reached your ears. Followed by complete silence. A mother's instincts immediately screamed danger. You stepped into the living room, and there they were. Your daughter was on the ceiling, directly above Leon. Leon stared upward, your daughter stared downward. Neither moved. Then the baby waved. “Okay,” Leon said slowly. “I feel like that's not normal.“ You closed your eyes. Of course, this happened. Of course, it happened when Leon was home. And of course, your daughter chose the most dramatic location possible.
The following week was awful. Leon said very little, but you noticed everything. The thoughtful expressions, the long silences, the way his eyes lingered on both of you and the baby. Leon Kennedy was many things, and oblivious was not one of them. He investigated for a living. And unfortunately for you, he was very good at it. The confrontation arrived on a rainy night. Your daughter was asleep upstairs. The house was silent. You walked into the kitchen and found Leon waiting beside the counter. The look on his face made your stomach sink, not angry or disappointed. He looked worried, and that was somehow worse. “How long?“ He asked. You froze as you saw his jaw tighten. “Please, don't lie to me.“ The room suddenly felt smaller. You set down your mug. “Leon-.“ “How long have you been keeping something this big from me?“ Your excuses didn't hold up because he wasn't accusing you; he looked genuinely hurt. You hated that expression more than any injury. You swallowed. “A long time.“ Leon laughed once, the sound contained absolutely no amusement. “I knew something didn't make sense.“ You looked away towards the window as rain tapped on its glass. “I kept finding things,” he continued quietly. “Damage reports near your patrol routes, emergency calls happening whenever you disappear, photos online.“ Your heart sank further. “You investigated me?“ You said quietly. “I was scared.“ That stopped you. Leon rubbed a hand across his face. “Our daughter was crawling on ceilings. I needed answers.“ Fair point.
You couldn't even argue. The silence stretched between you. Finally, Leon asked the question. “You're really Spiderman?“ You winced. “Technically, Spiderwoman.“ Leon stared. “Seriously?“ You pressed your lips together. “Sorry.“ He blinked before laughing, actually laughing. Not because anything was funny, but because reality had apparently given up. You waited nervously, the laughter faded, and his expression softened. “How many times have you almost died?“ The question caught you off guard. Not who bit you, not how your powers worked, not even if aliens existed. Just that. How many times. You felt your chest tightening. “Enough.“ Leon looked down. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Then he slowly nodded. “That's what I thought.“ The guilt hit harder than you ever expected. “I wanted to tell you.“ You stepped closer. But he backed off. “Then why didn't you?“ The way he stepped away from you made your heart shudder. You didn't tell him because you were afraid. Not of monsters, not of villains, not even of death. You were afraid of losing him. “I thought you'd worry.“ Leon stared at you like you had personally offended common sense. “Of course I'd worry. You're my wife.“ Okay, that was fair too. You laughed weakly despite yourself. Leon didn't. His eyes glistened beneath the kitchen light. And suddenly you understood. This wasn't about secrets, it wasn't about trust. It was pure fear of losing the only good thing he had in his life. The same fear that woke him from nightmares, the same fear that made him check locked doors twice, the same fear that came from loving people in a world determined to take them away. You reached for his hand, and this time he finally let you. “I never wanted to hurt you.“ His fingers tightened around yours. “I know.“ The words nearly broke you. Because he meant them. Even now, even after everything, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his shoulder.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Leon wrapped both arms around you. The tension finally cracked, and you breathed again. “You know,” he murmured, “this explains a lot.“ You smiled against his shirt. “Such as?“ You asked. “The impossible reflexes.“ You laughed. “The disappearing acts.“ He added. “And the fact that you caught a falling lamp before it hit me.“ You winced. “I thought you forgot that.“ You said quietly, finally looking at him. “I absolutely did not.“ For the first time all evening, the heaviness eased. Leon pulled back slightly. His expression was tired but warm. “So our kid inherited spider powers.“ He said. You hummed in response. He considered it and sighed. “We're never getting our security deposit back.“ Leon smiled, a real smile this time. Whatever came next, you'd face it together. And somehow, for the first time since the secret surfaced, that felt enough.
summary. You adore Caleb’s freckles. He doesn’t.
note. Yes, me realizing Caleb Xia has freckles.
Caleb runs a hand over his face as he stares at his mirror. His frown deepens the longer he looks at himself. The marks that dot his face are the subject of his gaze. He isn't fond of them. Not really, not after he got multiple hurtful remarks over it as he grew up.
He does his best to not bring attention to it the older he gets. It became a habit to cover his face often, when he laughs, when he smiles, when people tend to stare at him a bit too much.
But you were vocal about how much you liked his freckles.
When you were younger, you raved about them, wishing you had your own. He didn’t see the appeal, but he liked it when you stuck your face close to his and admired the dots.
He loved it when you ran your hands over his face, brows furrowed as you murmured about how cute it was. If that made him flush 50 shades of red, then you didn’t notice.
You’re still obsessed with them, years later.
Even when he doesn’t understand why, staring at the mirror in the early morning or late night, trying to make sense of what made the small dots on his face endearing to you when to him it was just an insecurity. Brows furrowed, lips turned down as he judged his own appearance.
He hears your footsteps before he sees you. The soft, familiar manner of your feet on the floor– something he could recognize anywhere. You were looking for something in the bedroom, with the way you were opening and closing drawers like you were on a mission.
When you open the door to the bathroom, your voice echoing against the tiles, he didn’t move from his place in front of the mirror. “Caleb, have you seen my eyeliner? The new one that I just got this week?”
Your reflection appears behind him, searching around the bathroom, still in his hoodie and when your gaze lands on him, you see the small flicker in his gaze.
You frown. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” He mumbled, a bit too quickly than he hoped.
Your eyes narrow immediately.
Caleb looks away first.
The silence stretches for a moment. It's the silence that exists between two people that know each other too well, and in the way you stare at him through the mirror, Caleb knew you always clocked him.
Your arms cross over your chest, and he avoids your gaze, fixing it on anywhere but your reflection. The sink, the faucet– and the eyeliner you were looking for hidden behind the toothbrush cup.
That alone tells you enough about what he was doing in front of the mirror, and you sigh. Quietly. “Caleb.”
“Mhm?”
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
Your frown deepens. His gaze moves to you for only a split second, before you catch him looking at his own reflection. It’s a short moment, but you could see the way he looked at the freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. Then it clicks, and your expressions soften. “Oh.”
His jaw tightens, and he avoids your soft gaze again.
The silence that follows is heavier than the last one. It’s not heavy, nor uncomfortable. But vulnerable in a way that Caleb doesn’t let himself be around you too often.
Because he is supposed to be the strong one. The protector.
And to him, it’s stupid that this measly negative thought on his own features is making him this way.
"They're still there." His voice comes out quieter than expected.
You blink. "What?"
"The freckles."
For a second, you simply stare at him. Then you almost laugh.
Not because it's funny. But because of course that's what had him standing in front of the mirror at six in the morning looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "They've been there your entire life, baby."
"I know."
"So why are you surprised?"
"I'm not surprised."
"You seem surprised."
He shoots you a look that makes you smile. He groans, just as you laugh. “There you are.”
“What?” Caleb frowns.
“You’re finally looking at me.”
He pauses, and the soft look in your eyes makes his ears turn pink. Your smile only widens as you step towards him. Your arms wrap around his waist, and you peer through the side to the mirror, humming. Caleb relaxes against you, moving you until you’re standing next to him in the mirror. Your eyes meet his through the mirror, then it drifts downwards to his freckles.
There are more than most people notice. Tiny constellations scattered over warm skin.
Some are darker than others. Some are barely visible unless sunlight hits them just right.
You have every single one memorized. A fact Caleb would never recover from if you told him.
Unfortunately for him, you decide honesty is important in relationships: "I think I know at least twenty-seven of them."
His eyes widen. “What?”
“Twenty-seven.” You tilt your head up at him to look more closely at his face. His eyes are widened slightly, brows furrowed, voice pitched slightly higher in disbelief. “You counted?”
“Maybe.” You shrug.
“You counted.”
“Maybe.”
“You;re insane.”
You grin, and lean up to peck his cheeks. “I know.”
Caleb lets out a mix of a laugh and a huff. His ears are completely red now, the flush spreading to his cheeks as he shuts his eyes at the absurdity of you counting his freckles.
When he opens them again, he catches you staring. Again.
It’s not like you hide it, at this point.
His voice drops into a mutter. “I don’t get it.”
“Hm?” You meet his gaze.
“I don’t get why you like them so much.”
You tilt your head and watch him carefully. You watch the uncertainty hiding beneath his expression, the remnants of old words. Old comments. Old wounds. Things said carelessly by people who probably forgot them the moment they spoke, but they were things that Caleb had quietly carried for years.
You reach up, and your fingers brush against his cheek. Gentle. Careful.
As though touching something precious.
Because to you, he is.
Your thumb glides over the bridge of his nose. Over the freckles resting there.
Caleb's breath catches, and you smile softly.
"Because they're yours."
His eyes flicker.
You continue before he can interrupt. "I don't like them because they're perfect." His gaze remains fixed on yours as you continue, your fingers still on his skin, tracing lines between his freckles. "I like them because when I think of you, I think of them. When I picture your face, I picture your freckles." You laugh quietly, "You know, when I was younger, I used to think they looked like stars."
His expression falters.
And you know you've won the moment he looks away. Because Caleb only looks away when he's overwhelmed.
"I still do."
His throat moves and Caleb looks back at you. Your other hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him a bit closer so you could trace more of the freckles. "They make you look like you."
You cup his face. His hands immediately find your waist, like its instinct to him. And really, it is.
"There isn't a version of Caleb in my head without them."
Your smile softens.
"And honestly? You'd be less cute without them."
"Don't."
"You would."
He grumbles your name.
"You absolutely would."
"Stop."
"I think I'd cry."
"You would not cry."
"I'd mourn."
Caleb drops his forehead against your shoulder with a groan. A genuine one this time, one not out of frustration. Just hopeless, because just by your hands on his face, and your sweet, embarrassing words, he has been completely and utterly defeated by you.
You laugh, wrapping your arms around him, and his arms tighten around you immediately.
The bathroom falls quiet again. But this silence feels different.
Comfortable– Warm.
After a while, you feel him nudge his face against your neck, followed by his muffled voice."Twenty-seven?"
You burst out laughing.
"I knew you were still thinking about that."
"Twenty-seven?"
"Actually, it might be thirty."
Caleb makes a sound that suggests he's reconsidering every life choice that led him here.
You only smile wider and gently move his face up so you could press a kiss against his temple. Then to his cheeks – like you were kissing every single dot on his face.
Until his face is burning red enough to rival the sunrise peeking through the bathroom window.
The funny thing is, Caleb never truly learns to love his freckles.
Not the way you do. Not the way you look at them, like they're something worth admiring.
He can't rival the way you love it.
But over the years, he slowly stops hiding them. Stops treating it like something wrong on his face.
Because whenever he catches himself doing it, he remembers the way you look at him.
Like every freckle is something precious.
Like every single one belongs exactly where it should.
And Caleb stops frowning at the sight of them in the mirror.
caleb who gets into an unprecedented flying accident and needs you to nurse him to recovery. on his journey to recovery he’s mastered wincing and appearing to be in pain with full believability.
he rubs your thigh slowly as you sit on the bed.
“i need help with breakfast… it’s hard for me to eat.”
you’ve got that sympathetic look on your face caleb loves as you bring the spoon of oatmeal to his mouth.
“tastes better when you feed it to me” he says sheepishly
you’ve always doted on him, but he loved the special type of care you provided him when he was injured or sick. you treated him like the most fragile thing in the world. for once, he had your attention 24/7, uninterrupted by anything else — away from the world, all the noise, your devices… just the two of you and your cozy apartment — he refused to head back to his skyhaven place. your place was better.
you put off everything to look after him and caleb loved it. you called off work and all social events. you technically didn’t need to stay with him all day, everyday, after the 4 week period — where he was most dependant on your care due to the severity of his injuries, but he was still feigning great pain and a difficulty to do basic tasks.
the way you attended to his every need, the way you let out those soft sounds of concerns whenever he would do anything “oh baby… you poor thing… let me” as you rush to help him, the way you gently brushed any remnants of food from his mouth with your thumb, the way you helped him bathe — those soft strokes against his back. he loved every moment of this and carefully calculated how long he could milk his injuries. two more months couldn’t hurt, right?
okay hear me out.. RE6 Leon is female!readers mission partner right… and she trained under him and whenever she would do something wrong he clicks his tongue. ACCIDENTALLY SORT OF CLICKER TRAINING READER and mayhaps it leads to some nsfw stuff during a mission??🫣🫣
I'm so sorry but I could not find a way to sneak the smut in there! But I really hope you like this either way. (Also RE6 is so underrated! I played it with my partner and it was a blast!)
Summary: Leon accidentally clicker trains you. Pavlov would be proud.
One Shot Masterlist
Pavlov was a Dick - Leon Kennedy x Reader
The first time it happens, neither of you notices.
Which is probably why it gets so bad.
Training under Leon Kennedy is, frankly, a nightmare. He’s not particularly cruel or unfair, no. Actually, you couldn’t be trained by anyone better. In a way, that’s the problem. He's annoyingly good at everything he does.
Every stance correction is perfect. Every critique is somehow correct. Every piece of advice immediately solves whatever problem you're having. It's insufferable.
"Your shoulders."
You immediately straighten. Leon nods once. "Better."
You hate how satisfying that approval feels.
You hate it even more when he clicks his tongue. It's never loud. Just a small little sound whenever you do something stupid.
Miss a target?
Click.
Forget to check a corner?
Click.
Nearly trip over your own feet during a drill?
He made the noise twice that time. Click click.
It's not even intentional. Half the time he doesn't seem aware he's doing it. But after months of training together, the sound becomes synonymous with one thing; you've done something wrong.
Unfortunately, your brain decides to take that information and run with it.
.
.
.
It becomes apparent during a mission six months later. Leon is crouched beside you, behind an overturned vehicle, while gunfire erupts across the street.
His hand comes up, holding up three fingers. You understand immediately.
Three hostiles. You nod.
He gestures again, this time waving his hand a little to the left.
Left side is mine. Another nod. With that, you start standing up, readying your weapon-
Click.
You sit back down so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. Both of you freeze.
Leon blinks.
You blink.
"...Why did you do that?" The words are whispered, barely audible under the noise of the gunfire.
Your mouth opens. Then closes. You sit there a moment, mouthing out unintelligible words. Then, "...I don't know."
Neither of you thinks much about it.
… At first. Then it happens again. And again. And again.
A month later, while sloughing through the underground ruins of a cathedral, his newest tag along finds out.
She’s a nice young woman. A bit younger than him, with chestnut brown hair and kind eyes. Her name is Helena, if you’re recalling correctly.
You’re reaching for something when Leon clicks his tongue. Immediately, without hesitation, you pull back
Her eyebrow raises. "Wait.”
Both you and Leon give her a confused glance.
“Leon…” she takes a breath, “Make that noise again.”
He does. As if on cue, you step a little closer to him, your eyes snapping to his form, as if waiting for a command.
Helena’s eyes widen. "Oh."
You give her a confused look, before starting to walk again. Helena clicks her tongue.
You freeze. The room goes silent.
Then, Helena lets out a laugh. It’s the most genuine reaction you’ve ever heard from her. You can almost see tears forming in her eyes as she doubles over, chuckles falling from her lips.
"You clicker trained your partner!"
Leon’s arms come up in defence. "I did not."
"You absolutely did." The woman gestures towards you both.
"I did not."
"You made her into a golden retriever!"
More laughter. You can feel yourself melting into an embarrassed puddle as Leon just shouts.
"I DID NOT."
.
.
.
The worst part is that once everyone notices, nobody lets it go.
Chris finds out, while you both try to pursue Ada Wong. Then Piers. Then, Sherry and Jake. Suddenly everyone is testing it.
It's humiliating. It's horrible. It's nonstop.
Click.
You stop peeking out from cover.
Click.
You stop running and start listening.
Click.
You skid to a halt mid run.
The last one makes Leon groan loudly enough to be heard from feet behind you. "This is my fault."
"This is absolutely your fault."
He just rolls his eyes. "I didn't mean to do it."
Helena is quick to snort. "You Pavlov'd her."
"That's really not what Pavlov did."
"You know what I mean."
Meanwhile, you're standing still, watching helplessly while this argument happens around you. Honestly, you're still not entirely convinced it's real.
Until after the mission is over.
The two of you are alone in the safehouse. It's late. Everyone's exhausted. You're sitting on the floor cleaning your pistol when Leon walks into the room carrying two coffees.
Without thinking, you reach for yours. You don’t go for the handle. Instead, you reach for the mug itself.
The cup is hot. Very hot. Hot enough to burn. Leon’s brows raise.
Click.
Your hand jerks away before you even register the sound. The movement is instant. Automatic. Reflexive. The room goes quiet. Slowly, you both look down at the coffee. Then at each other. Then, back at the coffee.
"...Oh."
"...Yeah."
For some reason, that's the moment it finally hits him. Not necessarily because it’s funny, or because everyone keeps teasing him, no. It’s because he realizes how much you've trusted him.
For months.
Every correction. Every lesson. Every warning. Every tiny click of his tongue. Somewhere along the way, your brain decided that sound meant safety.
To listen to him. That he's trying to help.
The realization hits Leon right in the chest.
He looks away first, which is unusual. He's never been particularly good at hiding things from you.
"What?" you ask.
His jaw flexes slightly. "Nothing."
"You're being weird."
A pause. "...You listen to me."
Your brow furrows. "Usually? Duh?"
"No, I mean..." He exhales softly. "You really trust me."
The words make you freeze for a moment. He hands you the coffee carefully this time, turning it so that you can grab the handle. His shoulder bumps yours when he sits beside you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. He feels warm beside you.
Then, Click.
Your head immediately turns toward him.
Leon bursts out laughing. It’s the happiest he’s sounded in days.
Maybe you could write vendetta Leon coming home hungover, and reader comforts him?
smthn short and not beta read, I wrote this late at night when the idea wouldn’t leave my brain. so apologies if it sucks LMAO
Kitten Kisses
Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader ft. Matilda the cat
WC: 539
TW: mentions of drinking, mentions of alcoholism & recovering, but purely fluff and comfort.
++++
It was 11pm when you heard Leon's keys finally jiggle through the doorknob of your shared place. He stumbled in, closing the door gently— or at least he tried to be gentle— and let out a deep sigh. He wasn't aware that you were in the living room, waiting for him.
He began to slowly walk forward before he finally noticed you. You looked at him with those eyes. The soft ones. Those that sent him the signal that he isn't in trouble. You're only worried.
Leon frowned. "I'm sorry…" was all he was able to mutter out past his lips. "I didn't… I wasn't meaning to…"
He had been trying to go sober for a while now. You had been with him long enough to know when he was a light drinker, a heavier drinker, to an alcoholic. After a ruined vacation, he seemed to be really trying to drink less. Some days, he wouldn't do so well.
"How'd you get home?" You asked softly. You didn't want to startle him.
"Taxi." He mumbled.
You smiled. It was an assumption you already made seeing as you didn't hear the engine of his bike, the one he left with that morning. "Good. We can go pick up your bike tomorrow, okay?"
Leon nodded and took more steps forward, before he collapsed on the couch next to you. "I didn't mean to-"
"I know, Leon. I know," you reassured him as you raised your hand to run them through his hair. Soft. "Do you want me to help you get ready for bed?"
Leon sighed and shook his head, yet winced after it caused his head to slightly throb. "No, no… I can do that…"
As you pressed a kiss to his stubble cheek, you stood up. "I'm going to get you some water and ibuprofen. I'll meet you in the room, okay?"
Leon shook his head and stood up slowly after you. "I want… you to kiss me more…" he slurred slightly, yet his voice was so low and shy.
"Tilly is waiting in the room for you. I'm sure she'll make sure to give you many kisses while you wait for me."
Matilda— Tilly, for short— is the little black cat that followed Leon home one day. He didn't want to keep her, but she had basically claimed him as her own. You would sometimes tease Leon by saying that she was the real reason he wanted to go sober.
Leon smiled slightly. "I guess I'll take some kitten kisses… as long as you promise to give me more, too?"
You let out a small chuckle. He was definitely gone, but sober enough to know when to stop, to know to get a ride home, to accept the help when given to him. You were proud of how far he had come, despite the crash and disappointment in himself you knew he'd feel the next day. You just needed to make sure he was aware of just how strong he was.
"I promise."
Leon smiled and slowly made his way to the room. While getting him water, you could hear him mumbling to the cat, tiny laughs as she likely licked his face. You were so proud.
Warnings : they are married, age gap ?, you can imagine re9 leon, cringe?, bad english
Pairing : leon kennedy x f!reader
Note : first part of a new small series, the series can be read in one shot, it won't really be a sequel
————————
This is the kind of week you prefer - the weeks when the sun is not covered with gray clouds, when the wind is cool… but especially when Leon is at home. After several days of insistence on your part Leon took a week off- how could he say no to your beautiful eyes ? Today is Friday, already.... When Leon is at home, time goes by too fast, and for both of you. During these days you enjoy each other as much as possible, either with a date or just on the couch in the arms of the other. In summary, the last four days have been calm and full of love. But you decided to spice things up a little.
Your screen time is much higher than Leon's, apart from calling and sending messages he doesn't really use his phone. While you, you have Tiktok, Instagram, YouTube and so many other applications that just enlarge your screen time. Leon has never understood how you can spend several hours scrolling on TikTok, for him it's a waste of time, but he says to himself at the same time that it must help disconnect the brain when you need it, in short.
Last night before going to sleep you came across a TikTok of a couple, the woman was doing a prank at her partner. The prank was simple and harmless- say that a friend in common is on a dating application and make it clear that you are on the application. As soon as you saw the TikTok you knew you had to do it to Leon, but you weren't going to do it now, the poor man is half asleep you won't bother him for that...
Tommorow he won’t espace it.
You wanted to do it the second he was up but you decided to wait a little longer so that the beginning of the morning would be banal in Leon's eyes. Meal time quickly arrived and you decided it was up moment- Leon is making food while you are leaning against the kitchen counter on your phone.
You get ready for a few seconds then put your phone on the counter and say in a normal voice. "You don't know what I saw."
Leon turns his head slightly when he hears you, he smiles softly and shakes his head. "I don't think so." He notices a little malice in your voice, but he thinks it's only because you have gossip to tell him and because you looove gossip.
"I saw Chris on Tinder!" Leon stops his movements and does not move for a few seconds, he lowers the heat to slow down the cooking and turns to you. "Um,it’s a dating app right?" You are about to burst out laughing and nod your head.
"Yes! It surprised me when I saw him on Tinder. Chris is not the type to want to meet people online." You push the thing a little more, examining each of his reactions.
Leon thinks and crosses his arms under his big chest. "It's true that it doesn't really look like him... Then the last time i saw him he didn't tell me about it."
You try to contain the laughter that tickles your cheekbones, you wanted exactly this reaction, a part of you knew that he would not understand directly.
"I'll see if he talks to me about it next time..." he simply shrugs his shoulders and then turns around to focus on the cooking food. You gently pick up your phone as if nothing had happened, you almost jump with excitement waiting for its realization.
Leon is lost in his thoughts, the idea of Chris Redfield being on a dating app is weird for Leon. He knows that Chris is more of the type to meet the love of his life randomly and not search on the internet. He wonders if other people around him are aware, or if they just came across his account like you-
"Wait-" Leon turns around, this time he does not lower the fire, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, no nervousness but confusion. "-why do you have Tinder?"
Your laugh finally escapes from your lips and you laugh as if he had said the funniest thing in the world. Leon looks at you with confusion, and even more so with your laughter. He approaches you and mutters. "Are you looking for someone else...?" His voice is a little lower.
Your laughter stops and you raise your eyes to his, your expression softens - he has the same puppy look as when he was young. Your heart tightens. "Awww, but no Leon, it's just a prank." You put your hands on his big chest, Leon looks at you and takes a few seconds to align a little. He sighs with a slight sneer, he wraps an arm around your shoulder. "Tiktok, huh?"
You laugh against his chest and nod your head. "You know me well, Mr. Kennedy." He laughs a little. "I didn't know TikTok could turn against me."
You smile and wrap your arms around his waist. "This is just the beginning, my dear."
——————
I'm thinking of doing a small series where reader pranks Leon. A bit like the old leon series.
LADS!Dad SMAU Edition (bc me and my bestie had been having fun creating texts with our own LI's)
-Featuring: Dad!Sylus
Dad!Zayne Here | Dad!Rafayel Here
note: this is also based on a Dad!Sylus AU, but this time it is a short one-shot that you can read here (again, it is not necessary to read it, but if you're curious about it you can check it out and make me happy interacting with it ^^)
Please don't copy or repost without my permission :)
LADS!Dad SMAU Edition (bc me and my bestie had been having fun creating texts with our own LI's)
-Featuring: Dad!Rafayel
Dad!Sylus Here | Dad!Zayne Here
note: this one isn't based on any au I have created, but I have that in mind so eventually I will (months later, studies are sucking the energy out of me). Anyway, I did this because I was bored and frustrated with the fact that I cannot write given how tired I am, so I resorted to this haha...
Please don't copy or repost without my permission :)
summary : doing your makeup while sitting on leon's lap
notes : really self indulgent tbh
credits to the owner of the divider!
leon was feeling incredibly clingy today and you'd love to indulge him at his antics but sadly, you have work.
as soon as you woke up earlier, leon was trying to get you back to bed while mumbling incoherently and making some grabby hands at you. your boyfriend is so cute to be honest, but you cant miss work today cause you have an important meeting with some heads so with a kiss on his forehead, you immediately went to get ready and made some quick breakfast.
you ate and drank your coffee at the kitchen alone, thinking that leon will probably wake up later but after finishing up, you decided that you'll bring some cup of coffee for him if he wants to spend his morning in the bedroom.
"why are you awake already?". you asked in confusion when you finally went back in your room with a steaming mug of coffee to do your make up and you saw leon getting out of the bathroom.
"cant sleep without you". he grumbled as he scratches his tummy while walking towards you.
you just shook your head in amusement at him while you went to your closet to finally change into some work clothes. just a simple black pencil skirt, paired with some brown silky long sleeve top. then after adjusting everything, you went to your vanity but you found leon sitting on your plush chair.
"baby, go back to sleep". you softly said as you ran a hand through his hair. you know he's still tired considering he actually just got back from a long week mission yesterday night.
a week of being away from each other, only texts and phone calls are keeping you both sane.
leon hummed against your touch before he wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you gently on to his lap. he squeezed you tight causing you to smile and give him a kiss on his head again.
guess youre doing your make up on his lap today.
with that, both of you just let the silence fill the room while you started putting on your makeup and he's just feeling you up and observing you. from time to time, he takes the mug of warm coffee from the table that you brought with you earlier and takes a sip.
the warmth of the coffee and your weight on him makes him sigh in delight, he missed this. it was only a week but he missed this.
"whats that?". he mumbled as he watched you put something thin on your eyelids.
"eyeliner, its a new brand too". you told him as you finished up putting it before closing your eyes and turned your head towards him. "blow, please".
obediently, he carefully blows on your eyes to make the eyeliner dry. he did it for a few more seconds while his thumb on your thigh caressed the skin.
so soft and warm.
you smiled at him when you finally opened your eyes and leon swore he fell in love again. he watched you put down the eyeliner down on the table and you took another small pink bottle with a circle top on it. you opened it gingerly and tapped the applicator lightly on your hand before closing it back up.
leon kissed your shoulder as you spread the blush on your hand with a finger before patting it on your cheeks and blending it while looking through the mirror infront of you. when you blended everything, you figured its time to put some powder on your face before layering it with a powder blush soon.
"looks so beautiful". he hummed as he watches you through the mirror. he loves the way your blush highlights your apple cheeks.
he watched you put more stuffs on your cheeks and dusting it with some small dab of highlighter. you smiled at him through the mirror before your hands rummaged through your pouch of lippies.
"should i put some lip liner on today?". you asked as you glanced down at the pouch and eyed the different colors.
"sure, hun". he honestly dont know whats a lip liner but he's sure its going to go on your lips, your kissable lips.
you beamed and you took a neutral color one before you leaned more forward towards the mirror with leon holding your hips tightly to not let you fall. you spread the liner with a finger along the bows and ends of your lips after putting it on then you picked a lip gloss.
"wanna kiss you". leon said as he watched you glide the lip gloss on your lips before smacking it together.
you laughed softly at him as you closed the product before you moved closer and wrapped your arms around his neck. he looked at you with heavy lidded eyes but the love in it is so present that you cant help but blush a little.
your hand found the hairs on his nape and you played with it softly as you gazed upon his soft eyes too. sleepy and clingy leon is such a sight for you. he's just so cute and lovely.
"pick me up later?". you asked softly.
"of course, hun". he gave you a sleepy smile and you leaned down to press your forehead against his. "i missed you so much".
"i missed you more, baby". you whispered before pressing your glossy lips on his causing him to hum.
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