âïžâ (18+) sucking off yummy smelling leon (request)
the heavy thud of the front door closing echoes through the quiet apartment, followed by a long sigh. leon is finally home.Â
he doesnât even make it past the entryway before he drops his tactical gear bag to the floor with a dull thud. heâs spent the last three days in the humid, suffocating climate of a coastal jungle mission, and it shows.Â
his dark blue compression shirt was darkened with a layer of sweat and dirt. his hair was damp, clinging to his forehead and the nape of his neck. he looked absolutely wrecked, chest heaving slightly as he rests his head against the wall, eyes closing.Â
 âhey,â he rasps, his voice rough from exhaustion. âdonât get too close, I smell like garbage.â
but youâre already moving toward him, like a shark drawn to blood. to anyone else, he might just look like a tired soldier needing a shower. to you, he smelled like absolute heaven.
the moment you stepped in close, the thick, heavy wave of his natural scent hits you. it was the pure, unfiltered scent of leon. sharp copper and a deep musky undertone of concentrated sweat that has soaked into his skin and clothes over days of physical exertion. it was intoxicating, making your mouth water.
before he could say anything, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. leon lets out a low chuckle, his hands awkwardly hovering above your hips. âcâmon, sweetheart, Iâm dirty. let me go wash off first,â he groaned.
instead of pulling away, you slide your hands up his broad chest, feeling the damp heat radiating through his shirt. your nose drags along his jawline, catching the saltiness of his skin.Â
with a soft, needy whimper, you nudge his arm upward. the compression shirt was absolutely drenched under his arms, holding the absolute potent concentration of his musk. you press your nose directly into the damp fabric of his underarms, taking a massive whiff.Â
leon stiffens, a low groan catching in the back of his throat. his fingers twitch, finally digging into your waist to hold you steady. âyou really are obsessed with this, arenât you?â he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.
âyou smell good,â you smiled at him cheekily.
wanting to taste him just as badly, you lean up to kiss him softly, lingering on his lips just long enough to catch his ragged breathing before descending down his body. your hands work quickly, unbuckling his heavy tactical belt and pulling down his pants.
as his thick length springs free, the scent of his heat hits you instantly. you lean in close, taking a deep, worshipful inhale of his shaft, letting the heavy scent fill your nose before dragging your tongue slowly up the underside to lick the leaking tip.
âgod, I could get high off you,â you moan against his skin, parting your lips and taking his swollen head into your mouth.Â
leon lets out a ragged groan, his head snapping back as his fingers tangle in your hair. he leans against the wall for support, his thighs trembling slightly as he surrenders to your touch. he supposed he could let you have your way.
unable to hold back, his hips began to move on instinct, slowly thrusting into your mouth until a sudden sharp gasp left him. âg-gonna come,â he groaned.
he shudders violently, his grip tightening in your hair as he comes all over your face and mouth. breathing heavily, you look up at him through your lashes. your face is warm and painted in his release. you couldnât help but smile as you were surrounded by his musky scent and covered in his fresh cum.
Summary: Hitting the big 3-0 feels like an existential crisis when society has convinced you your desirability will officially expire. Fortunately, your 51-year-old neighbor is more than happy to prove that sex appeal only gets better with age.
Content: Smut (fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie), slightly insecure reader, and so much fluff itâs actually sickening
Word count: 6.5k
Masterlistâ€ïž | Read on AO3
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âWhat are you doing out here?â
The scent of cedar and gunpowder hits your nostrils before a pair of polished boots comes into your line of sight, stopping inches away from your toes.
Your complete lack of awareness is exactly why embarrassment warms your cold cheeks. Too consumed by mourning your current predicament, you hadn't even caught the subtle displacement of the evening air, nor the heavy crunch of Leon's stride closing the stretch of lawn between your two houses.
You shouldâve, considering youâve always been attuned to his presence, to the low timbre of his voiceâheard it across the street while heâs bent over the hood of his car, felt it vibrate through the air when he offers a polite good morning that lingers long after heâs gone.
But that same voice currently carries a note of concern as he finds you at your absolute lowest, shivering in a low-cut party dress and smudged eyeliner right on your doorstep.
Your composure slumps even lower. âIâm locked out.â
The polished leather of his boots shifts. "Locked out," he repeats, âfrom your own house?â
âLost my keys,â you explain, sounding as pathetic as you feel. You can feel his gaze tracking the line of your neck, kissing the field of goosebumps blooming across your skin. Leaving the house in nothing but a slip of silk suddenly seems like the worst decision of your life.
"I see," he says. "You donât have a spare key under one of your plants?â
Your nose wrinkles in a small, self-deprecating scrunch as you glance up at him.
âWouldnât that be too obvious?â
âObvious is often better than shivering in the dark.â His eyes sweep gently over your collarbone, noticing the way the thin straps of your dress dig slightly into your skin as you hunch over. âHow long have you been sitting out in the cold?â
âLong enough to lose feeling in my toes.â
He frowns at the way youâve wrapped your arms around yourself. Fragile little thing. âCome on.â
âWhat?â
âIâm not going to let you freeze to death on your own porch," he says, extending a hand towards you. "And Iâm certainly not going to watch you turn blue from across the street while I have a perfectly good spare room.â
You stare at his large hand, contemplating whether stepping into the lair of the neighborhoodâs most eligible (and most intimidating) bachelor is actually a safer bet than hypothermia.
Is it a good idea? Probably not. But the alternative is another hour of trembling in a thin slip while the wind bites harshly at your skin.
So you reach up, and under the disguise of a curiosity on what lies beyond his walls, you let his hand engulf your smaller one. His skin is a shock of warmth against your frozen fingers, and he pulls you up with an effortless strength that makes you feel momentarily weightless.
âJust for tonight,â you mumble, trying to reclaim a shred of your dignity as you wobble on your numb feet. You pointedly ignore the sharp pain in your heels as you find your balance. âIâll call the locksmith first thing in the morning.â
âThereâs no rush.â He lets go of your hand, palm sliding from your fingers to the small of your back. âThe locksmith can wait until youâve actually had a few hours of sleep.â
âI look that bad, huh?â
âBad isnât the word Iâd use. Tired, maybe.â He gives you a once-over, looking a little bashful. âStill unfairly pretty.â
You let out a shaky breath, your legs feeling like lead as you navigate the curb. âYouâre just being a good neighbor. You donât have to lie.â
âIâm not lying. The dress looks good on you.â
You look down at the soft material that clings to your damp skin, feeling suddenly very exposed. âThanks.â Unconsciously, you find yourself leaning a fraction closer to him, seeking his body heat. âBut itâs doing a terrible job of keeping me alive right now.â
And unconsciously, his palm skims around the curve of your waist. âInclined to agree, unfortunately.â
âIt was aesthetics over survival, felt like a fair trade for a celebration.â
âYeah? What was the occasion?â
You let the silence linger a little longer before slowly answering, âMy birthday.â
Thereâs a slight, reflexive squeeze of his hand on your waist. "Today's your birthday?"
âYesterday, technically,â you correct him, noting that the hour has long since bled past midnight. "But yes."
"Well, happy birthday."
"Mhm."
He stops just inches from his front door, turns his head to peer down at you. You notice his brows pulling together in an observant line. "Don't sound too happy about it."
You let out a long sigh, letting your weight slump against the cold wood of the doorframe. The exhaustion is finally winning. âBirthdays are depressing,â you hum, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. âAnother year of expectations you didnât meet, another reminder that the clock is ticking. Don't you find them a bit⊠grim?â
He looks at you for a long beat before shaking his head, a single lock of silver falling across his left eye. "No. Not really," he says, turning the heavy brass handle and pushing the door inward. "But Iâve already had fifty-one of them to get used to the idea."
âSo what youâre saying is I have to wait another twenty years to finally stop feeling like the world is ending?â
He catches your gaze, his expression softening into something dangerously close to a smile. âIâm saying that by the time you hit fifty, you realize the expectations were the only thing making it grim."
"That doesn't sound encouraging," you note as the houseâs heating begins to thaw your frozen skin. "Twenty years is a long time to spend being disappointed."
His lips twitch. "It's not about the wait. It's about the perspective," he explains, guiding you further into the amber warmth of the foyer. "And youâre far too young to be this cynical."
"I wouldn't call myself young anymore."
"Fifty-one minus twenty. That makes you⊠what? Thirty-one?"
You try not to flinch, but a small, involuntary wince escapes you at the overestimation. "Thirty, actually."
"Thatâs still fairly young."
You throw him a dubious look. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepen. "Itâs young," he insists, kicking off his shoes. You follow suit. Then he reaches out, catches your elbow, and guides you toward the living room where a long couch waits for you in the shadows.
His space is exactly as youâd imagined, steeped in warm masculine tones of deep walnut and charcoal. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Thereâs the scent of old paper, expensive tobacco, and something clean like rain-washed cedar.
You also catch a faint, woody sting of bourbon, which you expected, but as you sink into the couch, you're surprised to notice a lone glass of red wine sitting on the coffee table.
"You drink wine?" You ask. "Never pegged you as a wine kind of guy."
He reaches for a heavy throw blanket draped over the back of an armchair and drapes it over your shoulder. "What do you peg me for?â
âStraight bourbon,â you admit, huddling into the wool. âNeat. Probably a double."
âI do have my few shares of bourbon.â
âThen I rest my case.â
He tilts his head in contemplation. "I suppose I've earned that reputation."
"You've earned a lot of reputation in this neighborhood."
âDonât think I want to hear the half of it. Would you like a glass?"
You ponder if itâs a wise move. Youâd spent the last four hours drowning in cocktails that were far too sweet, and the fuzzy warmth in your chest is a precarious balance against the exhaustion. Adding a glass of wine to the mix might be the final nudge your brain needs to completely shut down.
But as you look at him, standing tall and massive against the backdrop of his endless books with the fluorescent light tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the idea of a quiet glass of wine with your hot neighbor suddenly feels much more appealing than any of the neon shots youâd endured at the bar.
"I probably shouldn't⊠but it is my birthday.â
âNot trying to pressure you.â
âNot pressured. Iâm actually curious what kind of wine a fifty-one year old bachelor drinks.â
âSo Iâll take that as a yes?â
âTake it as a hell yeah.â
He disappears into what you think is a kitchen, and your bravado disappears along with him, replaced by a sudden spike of nerves. Now that he isn't standing directly over you, the reality of the situation settles over you like a heavy blanket draped over your frame.
Youâre sitting on the couch of a man who is as intimidating as he is handsome, and youâre about to spend the first hours of your thirty-year drinking expensive wine in his lair.
The rug tickles your bare feet as you nervously tuck them under your thighs, trying to make yourself as small as possible in the vastness of his cushions.
âHere,â he announces himself again, and you notice that heâs pushed the long sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, revealing forearms that are corded with muscles and mapped with a faint dusting of hair.
You try not to blatantly stare at the prominent veins tracing down to his wrists as you reach out to take the glass from him. âWhat is it?â
âA Stagâs Leap Cabernet Sauvignon,â he says, settling into the opposite end of the long couch. He drapes one arm over the back, turns his body toward you. âFrom Napa. This oneâs got a bit of ripeness to it. Black cherry, maybe a touch of vanilla.â
You hum, bringing the glass a little closer.
âGets better with age too,â he continues, eyes lifting to yours. Then with the faintest hint of a smile, âThough it'd be perfect for the occasion.â
You canât stop the flutter in your belly.
âThatâs very sweet of you.â
âIt does have a touch of sweetness if you let it sit.â
âNo, I mean you, Leon.â You finally gather the nerve to meet his gaze, and find yourself tracing the tiny, crystalline specks of silver that radiate from his blue orbs. âTrying to make me feel better, offering me shelter when I was half-frozen on my doorstep.â
The air in the room seems to shift the moment his name leaves your lips. His shoulders visibly drop an inch. âYeah, well, youâd do the same.â
You would. Although, as you look at the unshakable size of him, you could never imagine a man like him sitting pathetically out in the cold, mourning a nonexistent tragedy while spiraling over a birthday. Still, youâd have opened your door for him in a heartbeat, even if he weren't half-frozenâmaybe especially if he weren't.
And youâre not sure what to make of that.
Itâs a thought that feels a little too dangerous to hold onto while sitting this close to him, and you find yourself suddenly, helplessly distracted by the sharp curve of his lower lip.
âHereâs to saving Neighbors in Distress, then,â you offer absentmindedly.
He reaches out for his own glass on the coffee table. Hones his eyes on you with a sincerity that feels tangible as the room falls to the quiet space between his gaze and your breath. The silver specks in his irises seem to ignite in the low light, pinning you to his cushions.
âAnd to aging like fine wine,â he adds.
A soft burst of laughter bubbles out of you. âThat is so corny.â Then angle your head to the side. âAnd such an old saying.â
âIâm half a century, what did you expect?â
Thereâs no trace of forced humor in his voice, and that lack of irony makes his delivery even more amusing. The smile on your face lingers as a warm pulse in your cheeks. It blooms as a genuine spark of comfort in your chest, prints over the rim of your glass as you take a sip.
âWow,â you say appreciatively. âThatâs really good wine.â
âIâm glad you like it.â
âItâs also incredibly dangerous, I think I need to pace myself,â you admit, placing your glass on the coffee table. âThirty is supposed to be the age of moderation, isn't it?â
âAccording to who?â
âEveryone,â you answer, a little too quickly. âSocial media, podcasts, people who suddenly start playing padel and structured routines.â
âI think moderation is something people reach for when theyâre trying to feel safe,â he observes, rolling the stem of his glass between his fingers. âLess risk. Fewer surprises.â
You smile faintly, but it doesnât quite reach your eyes. âMaybe. Or maybe itâs⊠reality catching up?â
His gaze shifts, catching that subtle change in you. âYou donât sound convinced.â
You shrug. âI just thought by now things would feel more... settled. Or clear.â Your fingers trace the intricate, frayed embroidery at the edge of the blanket around you. âInstead it kind of feels like Iâm aging out of things without ever really being part of them in the first place.â
âAging out of what?â
You let out a small breath, almost embarrassed to say it out loud. âBeing⊠wanted, I guess.â A quick, self-conscious laugh follows. âOr at least effortlessly so. Like thereâs a point where you stop turning heads and start blending in, and you donât even realize when the moment of being undesirable happens.â
âYou really think thatâs already happened to you?â
You donât answer right away, and that probably answers enough. His glass meets the table with a soft thud. âThatâs a dangerous assumption.â
âMore dangerous than the wine?â
âMuch. Because itâs wrong.â
Youâre not sure whether to laugh it off or deny it outright.
âDesirability isnât about being the loudest thing in the room,â he continues. âOr the youngest. Itâs not about catching everyoneâs attention for five seconds.â
âThen what is it about?â
The room exhales into silence. The lone lamp spills a muted glow, its light stretching into uneven shadows that breathe along the walls while somewhere deeper in the house, a clock ticks softly as each second threads itself through the sudden quiet.
âPresence,â his voice finally settles into the stillness. âAbout knowing yourself well enough that when someone does notice you, they donât forget it.â
âAnd you think that just⊠gets better?â
âI know it does.â
The certainty in his voice makes your chest tighten. You look down, suddenly aware of your bare shoulders under the blanket, the thin fabric of your dress, the way youâd felt so exposed stepping into his house.
He leans forward then, just enough to close some of the distance, the sheer presence of his broad frame grounding in a way that makes it harder to retreat into your own thoughts.
âLook at me,â he urges softly.
Hesitation flickers through your posture before you finally lift your chin. Thereâs a quiet warmth in his gaze, something unguarded that softens the harder edges of him that turns all his intensity into something almost unbearably kind.
âYou're worried about becoming invisible, but I can tell you right now, there is not a single thing about you that is easy to look away from."
Your breath shatters in your throat as he reaches out. His hand is large, the skin calloused, but his touch is incredibly light as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Caresses your cheekbone with a thumb.
âSo no,â he adds, quieter but no less certain, âI donât think youâre becoming less desirable.â
If you weren't sure what would finally wreck you on this milestone birthday, what would be the thing to finally break the surface of your spiraling thoughtsâyou are now, and itâs the magnetic pull of wanting to kiss a man twenty-one years your senior.
But age is just a number, isn't it? Leon has obviously made it clear that he doesnât view the passage of time as a problem, and looking at the way his eyes are currently tracing the shape of your mouth, youâre starting to believe him.
The gap between your ages feels like an invitation to a level of intensity you weren't prepared for at twenty-nine.
âYou really think so?â
âSweetheart, youâre the most desirable thing Iâve had the privilege of seeing in my entire life.â
You canât believe youâve resisted his charm for so long.
Youâve imagined similar scenarios, of course. Living right across to a man who carries himself with so much lethal grace made it entirely impossible not to.
The men youâve dated in your twenties were mostly just boys still trying to figure themselves out. You were used to clumsy hands and rushed fumbling, to guys who barely knew how to hold a conversation.
Leon is different. Maybe itâs his age. Confidence, agilityâitâs obvious he doesn't possess the frantic energy of a younger man, instead moving with an authority that commands your attention without him even having to try. As a result, countless lonely nights were spent of you lying awake wondering what it would actually feel like to have his solid weight pressing you down.
Not that you would ever dare to admit that to anyone. No, thinking it in the privacy of your own mind is already embarrassing enough.
Although the gratification of having him kissing you obliterates any sense of shame. And the way his hands are exploring every corner of your curves proves that heâs spent just as much time agonizing over the exact same thoughts.
Youâre uncertain when the blanket fell off your shoulders, but you can feel the rough friction of his palms everywhere. Your arms, your knees, your thighs. Youâre aware of him bunching the skirt of your dress upward until itâs gathered at your waist.
You also sense a slight desperation in his touch. A monumental inkling of need bleeding through a composure that suggests heâs been holding himself back for so long, and it is as staggering as the deceptive softness of his lips to realize the sheer force of his hunger.
It isnât until your lips are swollen and stinging and wet from the relentless pressure of his that you finally fill your lungs with air.
And to your chagrin, he momentarily pulls away. âMaybe we should slow down.â
âWhy?â you whine, a little pout hanging on your puckered lips. âThought I was desirable.â
âYou are,â he grunts. His nose grazes the high curve of your cheek. âBelieve me, you are.â
âThen whatâs stopping you?â
He levels with your concerned gaze. âDonât want you waking up thinking this was a mistake.â
Yeah, right. As if a few sugary cocktails could be the sole reason of a desire this potent.
Sure, thereâs a sweet haze effectively numbing your usual inhibitions, but alcohol didn't carve the hollow ache in your chest every time you watched him pull into his driveway. Nor did it plant the heat that pooled in your belly whenever he caught your eye over the property lineâmore times than you could admit, less than what you truly craved.
In retrospect, the tension had always been there. Unconsciously. Even if you were stone-cold sober you would still be here.
The morning light couldn't possibly undo the rightness of finally having him in your vicinity.
You reach a palm towards his face. âThe only mistake," you whisper, soft words against the rough scrape of his jaw, "would be making me wait another second."
Heâs quiet for a moment, but your pretty eyes tip whatever restraint heâs holding onto. Has him tracing the supple skin of your breast with a newfound zeal.
âYou sure?â
âWhy donât you take off my dress and find out?â
You feel his amusement radiate against your skin. âGlad your confidence is back.â Then he hooks a finger under the thin silk of your dress, slides the strap down your shoulder. âBecause you are beautiful.â
The cool air hits your skin. Two sensitive peaks beg for his attention.
âSo goddamn beautiful. Look at these tits.â
Thereâs amusement laced in your smile. âAlso didnât peg you with such an abrasive vocabulary.â
âPoliteness wonât cover what I want to do to you right now.â
Soft strands of hair thread between your fingers as his mouth wraps around a nipple.
Plays with it eagerly, lapping around in circles with agonizing precision before drawing it back as if trying to make the sensitive point swell even larger in his mouth. Repeats the motion far longer than you anticipated, searing a path that sends a rush of hot blood to your core until every atom of your being is vibrating.
Youâre convinced the room is spinning as he gives the same attention to your other breast, painting your areola with a slickness that is as heavy as the dampness between your thighs.
He seems to sense the change in your breathing, lets a hand travel down your hip before draping one of your legs over his lap. Bends your other knee, fingers hooking into the crook of your leg to draw you apart.
âKeep them open for me.â
You nod limply. He kisses the side of your throat.
âUndesirable,â he tuts, large hand moving to the wet patch on your panties to map the exact shape of your arousal through the silk. âDo you realize how ridiculous that is?â
You try to form a response, to make some self-deprecating excuse about the depressive weight of your birthday or the slow decay of your youth, but the air simply vanishes from your lungs. The pressure he applies over you sends an electric shockwave of sensation through your nervous system.
He watches the words die on your lips. Watches the way your hips hitch upward. Observes the shallow rhythm of your chest with every rhythmic circle he rubs into your aching little clit.
His mouth ticks up into a smile that softens the weathered lines of his devastatingly handsome face.
âShould I show you myself then?â
âShowâŠâ The supple grain of the couch bites into your shoulder blades as your toes curl into the material. ââŠwhat?â
His fingers slip under your flimsy lace. âExactly how desirable you are.â
âAhhââ Your hazy mind goes into an absolute sensory overload. One second the room is a blur of amber light and red wine, the next heartbeat you are violently aware of the viscous heat of your own arousal as he gathers it on his fingertips. âLeonââ
He sweeps upward, smearing that glistening moisture across the swollen outer folds and pressing it deep into the delicate flesh of your labia, and you are acutely aware of the aching bead of your clit trapped beneath the abrasive swirl of his fingers, feeling it throb in perfect synchronization with your racing heart.
Leon feels it too. The sharp rhythm of his breathing stutters as he watches you squirm.
âGorgeous girl.â The blunt tip of his middle finger presses against your slick opening, testing the tight ring of muscle before slowly sinking in. âAbsolutely gorgeous.â
âLeâŠon⊠oh!â
The addition of a second finger pulls a high keening from your throat.
Two fingers and you feel impossibly full. You can barely fathom the weight of taking his actual cock, and your walls pulsate at the thought. He groans, pulls his hand back almost to the entrance before driving his knuckles deep inside you again.
In and out, back and forth, turning your entire world into a blur of pleasure and the heady scent of him. Incredibly, unapologetically male.
The only thing consuming your mind right now, rightfully so. The pleasure-induced haze that clouds your brain parts just enough for you to breathe in his musk, to watch the absolute concentration on his face as he dedicates himself to your pleasure. At the quiet lines carved beside his eyes. The faint crease at the corner of his mouth. The hard flex of his chiseled jaw, dusted with fine hints of gray.
Maybe aging isnât so bad after all. Youâre suddenly grateful for every single year that carved him into the man whoâs currently dismantling you with his bare hands.
Because you feel it. The ongoing swell of an orgasm gathering at the base of your spine. Your breath fractures into a wordless sob and Leon feels your undoing the second it begins. Helps you through it. Massages the deep, aching knot of tension inside your cunt, using the volume of your own wetness to press the base of his palm against your puffy clit.
Your mouth opens wide to gulp in air but all that comes out is a groan that shocks your bones.
Legs parted instinctively wide, it is one of the strongest orgasms you have experienced in a very long time. Youâd argue it might be the strongest one ever, but the thought of cumming onto his cock seemed like the only thing that could possibly top the rank.
Your satiated limbs melt into the cushions as he kisses the sweat dripping down your hairline. âLift your arms up for me.â
You obey wordlessly, and he starts to undress you. Slips off the once delicate lace down the length of your legs. Youâre still drifting in a post-orgasmic haze, but your focus snaps back the second he peels his shirt over his head. The flex of his thick biceps and broad shoulders completely rewires your sluggish brain that you find yourself leaning forward as he makes quick work of his pants.
And then itâs genuinely hard to believe that the Leon Kennedyâintimidating, sweet Leon who lives right across your houseâis sitting spread out with a raging hard-on that demands your attention.
Which, obviously, you give to him without needing to be asked. The second your fingers fully encircle and squeeze his impressive size, his head falls back against the couch, exposing the strained column of his neck.
You also give your attention to the erratic pulse at his throat. Pressing your lips against a scattering of sun-faded freckles beneath his jaw, swallowing the deep vibration of another groan.
Leon, youâve come to realize, is not ashamed of being loud. A delightful knowledge that this formidable man is perfectly willing to let his voice gravel with each motion along his shaft. You experimentally tighten your grip and drag a thumb across the weeping slit of his cock, and feel your heart swell with giddiness the moment he comes to cradle your cheeks and groans straight into your mouth.
The power you hold over him is intoxicating. Addicting. Very, very dangerous. Whatever excuse you initially gave yourself about tonight as a symptom of being touch-deprived and horny on your birthday is rapidly dissolving. You can already see yourself easily basking in the undivided attention he's so far given you.
Granted, it is nearly impossible to worry about the long-term consequences when heâs panting directly into your open mouth, failing bid to keep his control intact.
You decide to offer him some grace, slowly loosening your grip. Let your nails graze the soft hair at his base, trace the dark trail up the firm ridge of his stomach until your hand settles on the hard plane of his chest.
He pulls back and pins your hand over his heart. âWe should move to the bedroom.â
The heat of his skin is too comforting for you to even consider the effort of standing up.
âWhy?â
âCondoms," he huffs. "Don't have any on me."
Your nose curls. It really is hard to worry about the long-term consequences when all you can think about is the desperate need to feel him raw. Surprising, considering safe sex is a practice you've always adhered to.
But Leon really does have a habit of pulling completely new things out of you. Effortlessly dismantles your depressed thoughts, unravels your usual guarded boundaries, and is now rewiring your entire view on intimacy.
Thereâs a tiny lull of silence before you gather the courage to ask, âHow much can I trust you without using one?â
His heartbeat kicks under your palm, and you watch as his brows draw together before the harsh lines on his face soften. âAs much as youâre willing to give.â His thumb drags over the back of your hand. âYou sure âbout that?â
It surprises you how easy the words slip past your lips, devoid of the usual overthinking that has haunted this day so far.
For the first time in a long time, the air in your lungs feels clear.
âI want you to go without,â you confirm.
âCâmere.â
He tugs you closer and sits you right on top of his lap, back firmly flushed against his chest.
âLift your hips a little.â
You brace your hands against his thick thighs, let him guide the blunt tip of his cock right to your slick hole. The keening sound you make vibrates in the room as gravity slowly takes over, allowing your wet muscles to swallow the first few inches of him.
It doesnât hurt, but it isnât any less intense. He fills you with a burning heat.
âAhângh⊠LeonâŠâ
âBreathe,â he drawls. You feel his lips on the crook of your neck, gooseflesh rising up when you feel the tip of his tongue. âA little more, yeah?â
Your head bobs in a nod. Lungs expanding, lungs deflatingâdiaphragm relaxed. You count to three and let your body melt against his chest.
It takes him a full minute, filled with soft whines that rumble in the back of your throat and little strokes coming from his hips. Your eyes are unfocused when he gives a final jerk, feeling the coarseness of his hair grind against the slope of your ass.
âOh, fuck.â
âSo fucking warm,â he grunts, pulling open your thighs wide across his lap, knees hooked over his sides with your bare feet dangling in the air. âAre you hurt?â
âNo,â you slur. Thereâs no pain to speak of but the strain of him pressing against your sensitive flesh. âJust⊠full.â
At least, full is the only word your overstimulated brain can offer.
No amount of previous longing could have prepared you for the way his pulse drums in tandem with your own, thudding so violently against your internal nerves. Perfectly snug inside you, as if your very anatomy is fundamentally shiftingâmelting, molding. Making room to seamlessly map every thick ridge of his shape until there's no space left between your bodies.
But sitting perfectly still is its own kind of torture. The throb in your cunt is spiraling into a desperate itch, and simply having him seated to the hilt is no longer enough.
Friction is what you seek, and friction is what you ask, rolling your hips in a needy grind, doing your best to wiggle against his lap just to coax out even a fraction.
"Christ." The sound he makes vibrates through your entire back, dragged out with sluggish words you have trouble making sense. "...embarrassing this old man.â
You tilt your head back in confusion, try to parse his meaning through the thick haze of pleasure.
âWonât last long tonight," he explains, slowly rolling his hips that draws another groan. âNot even a good ten minutes.â
A giggle interrupts your keening whine. You let your head fall to the side, resting your temple against the sweaty curve of his throat.
âItâs okay... you can fuck me again in the morning.â
The breathless laugh he wheezes sounds partly wicked.
âYouâre goddamn right I will. Take you in my bed.â He drags his hips backward. âThe shower.â Then languidly thrusts forward. âEven the kitchen.â
He takes the full weight of your breasts in eager hands.
âFuck you in the back of my car like rabid teenagers.â
You choke on a moan and reach behind, fingers finding the damp hair at the nape of his neck. âDonât think our bones can handle the lack of legroom.â
âDonât worry, Iâll make it work.â
You feebly smile at the confidence in his voice.
Somehow, you donât doubt him. Anyone with a conscious mind would agree that Leon is a man of absolute competence. You might not know the secret he keeps behind closed doors, or the full depth of his life, but you know the way he commands the space he occupies. And you'd expect nothing less from him when the space he's currently residing in is yours.
Physically, sure. He's sheathed impossibly deep within your cunt.
Metaphorically, too, when heâs been threading in your thoughts with a steady persistence. Lingers between looks, between breaths. Settles deep into the unspoken gaps of your everyday life, anticipating your needs long before you do by offering things without excess.
A roof over your head. A glass of wine in your hand without expectation. Heartfelt words that reach you even when you hadnât realized you needed to hear them.
You wonder if you asked for more for the sake of your own comfort, he would give that too.
For your pleasure, at least. The stretch of him fucking you in slow ceremony is already delicious as it is, but a fierce hunger still gnaws at your neglected clit. You try to guide the hand on your right tit down to the slope of your stomach, drawing it directly toward the spot where your bodies meet.
Fortunately, Leon is more than happy to oblige.
âRight here?"
You nod silently, let your body do the talking. And talking it does in a language of erratic breaths and arching hips. Pliant to his touch, yet greedy for his fingertips. The sheer volume of slick, overheated syrup that instantly coats his skin has him inhaling sharply.
"Fucking drenched,â he grunts, feeling the rigid length of his cock disappear completely between your glistening folds. "Gonna eat this pussy next time."
Crude and abrasive. You like this version of him. So much so that your internal muscles respond before your voice can, milking him with a series of desperate clenches that has his jaw locking tight.
âNext time, sweetheart,â he promises, rubbing circles over the hard knot of your clit. âTaste how sweet this pussy is.â
That seems to do it. Your entire frame tenses, toes curling in anticipation of the sensation climbing up in your leg. Even breathing seems like a secondary concern, a distant chore your lungs are struggling to remember how to perform when youâve succumbed so completely to the intensity.
"Thatâs it. You gon' give me another?â
You hiccup through a frantic chorus of âFuckfuckfuckfuckâ and wail helplessly.
âGo on. Let me feel it."
âShit,â you heave, right before you shatter, squeezing your eyes shut.
You collapse with a satisfied smile, reveling in the ecstasy seeping deep into your bones. But that quiet hum is cut abruptly short when his hands suddenly hook under the backs of your knees, hoisting your legs up and peeling you open.
Starts fucking you for the sake of his pleasure.
You find no mercy in his rhythm, pistoning force that has your breasts bouncing with every jarring strike. Limbs shaking, bones rattling. The room shuddering with echoes of wet, heavy slaps.
Itâs nothing you canât take when you seem to be enjoying it yourself. You realize, staring down at the clotted, white fluid foaming around his cock, that you would gladly give him anything he so much as looked at. Heâs already given you plenty of attention that youâll let him take whatever he needs in the name of gratitude.
A token of appreciation, if you will. A thank you for being the perfect neighborâthe perfect man, capable of melting your resolve with kind gestures before proceeding to rearrange your guts.
Although thinking this is solely for his benefit seems foolish when he's ruining you oh-so-good. Fast and precise, hitting right where you love it, touching exactly where you're tight.Â
A harsh jerk of his cock has you blubbering incoherent words, "HolyfuckLeâLeon!"
You're answered with a row of grunts, of squelching noises that increase the more he thrusts in. You feel like a carved pretzel as he pins your legs to your chest, locking you firmly in place. Drilling hard, erratic, pushing all the strength he possesses into your pliant body.
Thereâs a hot tension in your lower belly. The muscles slacken in your neckâthroat closing in as your mouth opens in a scream that doesn't quite make it through.
The silence punched out of you is finally rewarded.
Your third orgasm is gut-wrenching when it happens. It twists your insides, wringing you dry. Youâre a mess of tears and drool and Leon makes sure you aren't left completely empty. With two final strong thrusts, he pumps a flood deep into your cunt in exchange for every drop of liquid heâs drained from your pores.
Overstimulated and exhausted, you slowly let your heartbeat settle. So does Leon. His breath tickles the crook of your neck, and thereâs a thick, gravelly edge in his voice as he drawls, âI shouldâve pulled out.â
Not exactly regret, but an acknowledgment of his complete loss of control. Not that you particularly care.
Lifting a lazy hand, you gently stroke the corded muscle of his arm, soothing down the dusting of silvered hair.
âYou don't see me complaining," you whisper, voice utterly sated.
âYeah? Let me see you.â
The smell of sex is so pungent and sweet as he slips you off his thighs. Lays you gently on the empty space of the couch beside him. Parts your legs for the many times tonight, and marvels at the sight of his cum making its way down to your puckered hole.
He spreads your spent, swollen folds with his thumb. âGorgeous girl.â
You offer him a tired smile.
Surprisingly, you do believe him.
In a physical sense, yes, thatâs true. The way heâs imprinted himself inside your body is proof enough of exactly how fiercely he desires you. But the weight of his words carries a gravity that pulls at something far deeper than your skin. Past the pulse at your throat and the ache in your thighs, settling heavy in the hollow of your chest.
Society has a way of making you feel like youâre meant to diminish with time. Expected to survive in barren soil, pouring yourself out while trying to bloom from roots that wouldn't even bother to water you. Grown accustomed to a slow drought from an environment that convinced you were fading out of focus as the years ticked by.
The way he looks at you defies that logic. The blue in his eyes suggests time has only made your harvest sweeter.
Any insecurities you harbored evaporate under the pads of his fingers as he maps the rise of your belly. All the self-criticism and nagging fear of becoming invisible dissolve the same way he smoothly glides through the valley of your breasts.
The frantic noise of the world goes completely silent when he palms your cheek. His body is hot atop yours, and his gaze holds genuine comfort of being truly, unconditionally seen.
For the first time tonight, you discern the affection decorating his eyes.
And itâs certainly not for the last.
His smile is warm and tender as his breath kisses your lips. âHappy birthday, sweetheart.â
Content: smut, p in v, fingering, squirting, alcohol consumption, hookup culture lol
Masterlistâ€ïž
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There is nothing better than being fucked completely senseless.
Arguably the best remedy for a chronically overactive mind.
After five straight days of managing passive-aggressive emails and smiling through situations that tested the absolute limits of human sanity, you decided the only cure for this impending mental breakdown was a stiff drink and zero inhibitions on this lovely weekend.
Two shots of whatever was closest, and the company of a man who looked just as desperately in need of a distraction as you, if not more so.
Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.
He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.
He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).
The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.
You offered your name, he offered his (Leonâwas it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.
You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.
Hook, line, sinker.
Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.
Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. Heâs handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.
What does surprise you is how youâve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.
Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.
Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that youâve genuinely lost count of how many times heâs wrung you out on these expensive sheets.
Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.
Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. Youâre sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.
He does it again and again and again until youâre basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.
This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.
Thereâs a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. Heâs actually entertained.
You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."
The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. âYouâre shaking so much. Itâs cute.â
So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.
âYou okay?â
You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. âHave you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?â
He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.
"Are you ever going to?"
His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. âWhy, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."
âIâm having a great time.â
âThen whatâs with the rush?â
âMaybe we should take a break,â you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. âI-I need to pee.â
He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. âIs that right?â
âFuckâLeonââ You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. âYouâre not helping.â
âI actually am,â he argues.
âWhatââ
âLet's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?â
You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what heâs asking.
âIâm pretty sure I need to pee,â you reason quietly. âIâm not a squirter.â
He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. âYouâre telling me youâve never done that before?â
âI have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.â
He looks genuinely offended by your answer. âDo you want to try?â
Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. Heâs simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.
Even with the fragments of scars youâve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.
And youâre very much aware youâre one of the few heâs taken to bed.
But is he always this attentive? This generous?
Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?
You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. Heâs just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.
If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?
âYou really think Iâm about to squirt?â
âThereâs only one way to find out.â
You frown. âWhat if itâs just pee?â
He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. âMake a mess then, I donât mind.â
Yeah, youâre going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.
âThen make me squirt, Leon.â
He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. âYes, maâam.â
Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.
Not enough, apparently, because heâs already moving his hips in rapid rhythmsânot too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.
âFucking beautiful,â he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. âJust lying there looking all pretty."
âH-harder,â you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.
âYeah?â He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. âYou like it when I go hard on you?â
Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when heâs practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.
âI know, baby, I know,â he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. âFeels good, doesnât it?â
âNghâhââ
âThatâs it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.â
The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattlesâand you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. âLeonââ
He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.
âDon't fight it.â
âIâm notââ
âYou are.â
Your groan is feral. âI canâtââ
âCome on, baby, youâve got to trust me,â he croons softly. âDo you trust me?â
Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. âYes.â
âGood. Then let it happen.â
Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.
âBreathe through your nose.â
He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. âOh, fuckââ
âThatâs it.â He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. âLet it go.â
You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.
Itâs like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shameâonly for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.
Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.
Youâve seen yourself getting wet, youâve felt yourself getting drenched, but youâve never experienced anything as wild as this.
Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.
He pushes his palm against your clit.
âOh fuck! fuckfuckfuckââ
A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie thereâcrying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.
âShouldâve met you sooner,â he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.
Maybe itâs the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps itâs the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.
âCan we meet again?â You pant. âLikeâafter tonight?â
Youâre somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.
To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.
You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.
Yeah, youâre going to let him absolutely ruin you tonightâand all the days that follow.
| just an older leon blurbâŠ. my beautiful sweet manâŠ. (fluff) ââ§Â°đČÖŒđą
âDoll.â
You hear a smoky voice huff out, heavy, yet laced with a certain softness, only concerned for you. You can practically imagine the weight of his shoulders and the shake of his head, tossing a silver-lined tendril to the side of his forehead with a sigh as his booted steps stumble through the door of his apartment.
His tired silhouette fills the doorframe of the bedroom as his white pleated comforter covers the length of you. The broadness of his shoulders and shape of his biceps illuminate from the back glow of his warm, lit kitchen, painting a soft smile on your face as you sit up with open arms.
Wordlessly, your Leon crosses to your figure, enveloping you in a slump as his weight gently crashes upon you. Your fingers slip softly under the hem of his tight shirt, framing the familiarity of his body in hushed whispers against the pink of his ear.
âMissed you, lovey.â
The gravel lap of his voice swirls against your collarbone as he nuzzles his nose into your scented skin, his chapped lips ducked into the pool of your clavicle.
You let out a hum, vibrating against his pressed features as they melt against the warmth of your flesh. The smile that drags out from Leonâs core at the simplest of sounds from your lips should be damn right embarrassing, but heâs too comfortable against you to care.
summary : trying the 'wiping your partners kiss' trend from tiktok on leon
notes : something small fluff for the heart<3
"mhmm, hi baby". leon hummed against your skin. he's bent by the couch to press his face against you while youre sat on it, tv playing infront and your pink fluffy blanket on your lap.
he then gave you a kiss on your soft cheeks, his stubble tickling you softly causing you to smile. his scent wafted around you and you cant help but feel giddy when you smell your usual body wash.
you really like it when he uses your body wash, its cute as hell for someone like him.
"shower felt good?". you asked him when he rounded the couch to finally sit beside you but before he could sit, he noticed you casually wiping the cheek that he kissed a few seconds ago.
your face remained neutral as you glance at him but inside, you want to laugh cause his face looks so offended. he's frowning and his brows are almost touching each other while he stares at you.
you just found this silly little prank on tiktok a few days ago where women or men wipe the kiss of their partners in front of them. you found it hilarious when you watched multiple videos of it and suddenly, you thought what if you'll try that on leon.
so when he took a shower earlier after coming home, you were waiting for him in the living room where you are seated right now. you were on your phone while the plays a tv series rerun and it seems like the world wants you to do it now cause as you scrolled on tiktok, you saw a video where the woman wiped the kiss from his husband.
you took that as a sign to be honest, and here you are right now, trying to remain casual.
"something wrong?". you tilted your head up to look at him.
leon narrowed his eyes on you a little causing you to really not try to laugh. he then shook his head before moving to the couch, his weight made the furniture dip gently and he threw an arm at the back of the couch as he made himself comfortable.
"is this a rerun?". leon asked as he his gaze moved to the tv while you moved closer to him and when your head hit his shoulders, an automatic kiss on your head was given.
leon frowned when he noticed your hand moving to the spot that he just kissed and seemingly wiping it away.
"is my stubble bothering you?". leon asked, brows furrowing as he looks at you.
"what?". you said as you move your head up to look at him. he still has his brows furrowed and his lips are in a frown, his eyes are looking at you like he's trying to figure something out.
goddamn, he looks so cute. you thought.
"you know i love your stubble". you told him and you reached a hand on his face to caress his stubbled cheek. "makes you the most handsome almost silver fox".
you grinned at him as you continued to caress his cheek. his frown softened and his eyes looked at you in amusement and in love, you look so soft and beautiful in his arms right now.
"i love you". you smiled causing him to lean his head down to press a very sweet kiss on your lips.
you smiled against his kiss, you absolutely love his kisses. especially when his stubble softly rubs up on your cheek.
but right now, youre doing a prank.
"lets watch the new episode rerun". you said when he finally pulled away and before returning to your comfortable position against his shoulder, you wiped away your lips.
okay, he's had enough. thats three kisses that you already wiped and he knows you love kisses so why are you doing this?
"do you not want kisses anymore?". leon asked as he moved beside you to sit up straight. muscles and body tightening up again cause he's confused and hurt.
after years of being with you, you always tell or show him that you love his kisses. youre always asking for it and you just love it when he does his sudden kisses on each part of your body. leon knew that you really love getting kissed on your cheek, his kisses on your lips makes you smile and kisses on your neck makes you relax always.
so this sudden action of you wiping his kiss is so questionable, did he do something wrong? are you mad at him?
"how can you say that?". you feigned a confused look on your face.
you noticed how he moved away from you a little, to give space to settle this, whatever youre doing cause this is not normal at all.
"youre wiping away my kisses". leon said this with all of his heart that his expression is mirroring his younger self.
his younger self that you accidentally saw in one of his file pictures. the sweet eyed baby boy. it kinda feels like youre looking at him right now that you cant help but coo inside.
your man is the cutest ever.
"i dont wipeâ".
"yes, you do". leon stressed before taking your hand to press a kiss on it, to test if its not only on your face.
immediately, you took it away and wiped just to tease him more. you saw how his face contorted in hurt and being offended, you could even see the gears turning inside his head.
"iâ". he opened his mouth, his eyes turning into a doe and all of the sudden you cant help it anymore.
you moved forward to hug him fiercely while saying multiple sorry's at him while he just widened his eyes when he suddenly got you flying in his arms. he felt you pressing kisses against his neck and shoulder while still saying sorry.
his face is still marred in confusion when he wrapped his big, strong arms around you and you clambered up on his lap.
"im sorry, its a prank". you mumbled against his tshirt as you laid your head on his shoulder and your hand drawing patterns against his back.
"what?". he scrunched up his brows again.
"a tiktok prank". you pouted before burying your head against his neck, to nuzzle deep in his arms and body. you dont want to ever leave from his warmth and love.
while nuzzling on leon like a cat, his mind whirred to process what you just said cause tiktok sound familiar. it took him a few minutes to register and understand everything before he squeezed your waist gently then tug you more closer to him causing you to hum.
"that fucking app is a menace". he grumbled as he moved his head on your hair, to bury his nose in your sweet scent.
tiktok, that one app that everyone seems to be addicted to these days. yeah, he's heard about it, kinda hard not to when he's always seeing you watching videos from it or telling him stuffs about what you saw.
even his coworkers and sherry has tiktok. always laughing and cant seem to focus sometimes.
"its a fun app". you giggled against his neck before pressing a kiss on his neck when you feel his hand sneaking inside your shirt to rest on your skin.
feeling your skin has always been so good for leon, it makes him relax.
"not if youre wiping away my kisses". he pinched your skin softly then kneaded it. he heard you laughing and he kissed your head.
not just one kiss, multiple kisses causing you to sigh in delight.
"dont do that again". he playfully warned and you bit his neck in response.
Leon has had to coax your voice during intimacy in your relationship, had to let you know that itâs okay to be sexual and openly communicate with him, no matter your preferences. He also made it clear that heâd never persuade you into doing things you werenât comfortable with, and if you wanted to remain more vanilla, heâd be fine with it. So when his good girl, his princess, requested that he be a little rougher tonight, he wasnât going to pass up the opportunity, not when youâve always been so reserved when it comes to sex.Â
â„Labels & Warnings: 18+
Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Resident Evil 9 Leon, Reader insert, Reader is on the shy/reserved side, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Age gap relationship, References to the age gap, Use of daddy, Use of princess, Use of baby/good/dirty girl, Small mention of Leon putting a baby in you.
The sounds coming from your mouth are as vile as the gentle smacks and squelches that fill your shared bedroom with Leon. Clinging to his pillar-like body, you press your face to his, feeling the prickly scratch of his stubble against your cheek, lips, and chin. Large and rugged, his hands cup your ass with your legs hooked over the crook of his elbows. The unfamiliar position maddens Leon, driving him to handle you with a roughness he isnât used to using on you. Youâre forced to take the girth that splits you wide, the stretch more intense in this position. Your body jostles with his muscular frame, breasts pressing into his hard pecs. Heâs hot against you, barely breaking a sweat while heâs carrying you and sinking into you with soft grunts. Every thrust pulls on your heart; the pleasure he delivers encompasses your mind, body, and soul. Youâre like a melted candle in his big, firm arms, shaking while heâs sturdy as can be. Heâs so strong; he can handle the powerful recoil from Requiem after all.Â
âToo much, princess?â Leon checks in with you, the grip on your ass creating handprints.
âN-no,â you shakily respond, toes curling from their position at his lower back. âCan you do it h-harder,â you stutter, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. âPlease,â you whimper out, your voice sweeter than candy as his glossy cock glides through your taut walls.
Leonâs hips stutter, only for a second before they begin smacking against you at a faster, harder pace. The request, paired with your hips trying to meet his pelvis, is downright explicit coming from you.Â
âThought you were my good girl,â he grunts, swiftly smacking your ass.
âI am,â you pathetically and eagerly moan, the sting on your cheek ringing through your skin.
Leon scoffs playfully, his bangs tickling your ear. âGood girls donât moan like youâre moaning, and they definitely donât try to ride their old boyfriendâs cock like this.â
Your hips pause their movements, tightening your arms around his neck and burying your face into his neck. âYouâre not old.â
The way you said it in a hushed tone makes him chuckle.Â
âToo old for you.â
âJust right for me,â you correct, walls clamping down on him.
âFuck, youâre perfect for me,â Leon growls, delivering a single, harder slap over the same spot he smacked you earlier.
You squeal and dig your nails into his skin, drawing vibrant red marks over old scratches on his trapezius muscle.
âLet me look at you, baby,â he rasps.
You straighten your back so he can see your face, his thrusts slowing but still deep. Sharp and dark, his eyes lay their wonderment over your pretty features, taking in how divine you look. Your hairâs a mess, your eyes are watery, your mouth is agape; youâre in awe.Â
âMmm,â he hums, inspecting the obscene expression you wear, voice deeper than the vast ocean. âSo fuckinâ beautiful.â
Leon often gets lost in how pretty you are, and right now is no exception, seeing you so fucked out is ruining any self-control he has left.
âMy baby girl wants it rough, hm?â Leonâs question is punctuated with a brutal slam, resuming the speed he was at.
You can tell heâs far gone as his tongue drips with lewd words like honey.
âY-yeess,â your stutter grows into a drawn-out moan, feeling the fat end of his cock push into a sweet spot that makes your heart flip, and your eyes roll back.
Leonâs pale blues observe your lips, traversing upward to your eyes, lost in thought, as if heâs thinking whether or not he should ask what heâs about to ask.
âWant me to ruin you?â
The million-dollar question sets the atmosphere ablaze.Â
You nod, tears threatening to spill past your lash line. âRuin me, Leon.â
Hissing through gritting teeth, Leonâs last threads of restraint snap. If you want him to break you, he will, just for his princess.Â
The sharp jut of his pelvis catches you off guard, and you choke on your breath. Leonâs thick tip reaches deeper than ever before, a bulge threatening to show itself in your lower belly as he grows ruthless. You never felt him be this rough before, and itâs something else compared to his usual gentle yet dominant demeanor. There have been many times he wanted to be rough with you, but you were his fragile princess who couldnât take too much. To finally feel his force, the one he uses during training and missions, is making your entire body vibrate.Â
Your hands slip down to his firm pectorals from the impact, making Leon pause to make sure you have a good grip on him.
âMake sure you hold on tight, princess,â he rumbles, kissing your cheek sweetly.
Leon lets go of your ass to wrap a hand around your wrist, pulling it over his neck, his touch soft and gentle. You secure your hands together around his neck, your arms bending around his wide shoulders as you become flush to his body, your heart pounding against the hard planes of his chest. His steely fingers slowly skim down your arm, following it down to your ribs, waist, and hips until heâs cradling your ass with both hands.
âGonna need it,â he grumbles, squeezing your cheeks.Â
Leonâs hips pull back before pushing back in, renewing the tempo. He uses your ass as leverage to hoist you onto his cock while his pelvis meets you halfway for a hard smack. The whimpers that hit his ear as he fucks you nasty drive him crazy. Youâre so incredibly wet, dripping down his balls as they smack against you with appalling squelches.Â
âSo fuckinâ wet,â he grunts, the force of his savage drives breaking up his words.
Leonâs mouth falls open with pants, savoring your heat thatâs stretched over him like a glove.
âMakinâ a mess on the floor,â he says, grunting at the end of each strike of his ravenous hips.Â
Sliding through your constricting walls, his cock pulses with a need to smear your insides with his semen.
âLet me see that pretty face of yours,â he asks you again, unable to help himself as he needs to see your face unravel.Â
You shift back, but only enough to be a couple of centimeters away from his face. Seeing his handsome face causes you to moan aloud. With his bangs messy against his cheeks, his eyes are intense, mimicking the expression he has when a zombie is in his gunsight. The peppery stubble across his handsome face accentuates his features, and his charming wrinkles make you want to kiss every inch of them. Heâs all yours, this beast of a man thatâs capable of unimaginable feats, and heâs fucking you like his life depends on it. Â
âLeon,â you whine, your heart skipping several beats as your fingers dig into his muscular back.
You almost want to tell him itâs too much, because it is, too much in terms of how good heâs fucking you. By now, heâs sure youâve made him bleed from the scratches that sting his back, shoulders, and trapezius.Â
âFeels good, baby?âÂ
Leonâs eyes falter to your lips, watching you chew on your bottom lip as you try not to scream from the overwhelming amount of pleasure shooting through you when he bottoms out.Â
âNone of that.â
Leonâs authoritative tone makes you snap out of it, and you leave your poor lip alone. Breathless gasps start escaping you every time his taut balls press up into you after he bottoms out.Â
âWanna hear you, baby,â Leon hums.
As if he wasnât already ruining you enough, Leonâs thrusts quickly evolve into rapid successions. He knocks the air out of you, your voice reducing to short, broken cries as you try to breathe normally. Clapping skin rings through the room like dynamite, inciting a frenzy within Leon.Â
âPretty little pussy swallowing daddyâs cock like a good girl,â he snarls, a scowl painting his face.
The sudden drop of âdaddyâ makes you cum instantly. Leon lets out a fierce growl that complements your scream as he bludgeons you with blinding pleasure. Your hips jitter uncontrollably against his pelvis, your pussy trying to close in around him. Small droplets leak out of you and around his gliding cock as his girth fights your walls from closing in on him. Clutching his muscled back, your hips' involuntary roll makes Leonâs rhythm stutter.Â
âGod damn, baby,â he laments, watching you cum harder than ever before.
Shaking like a leaf in the ample muscle of his arms, you whimper from the aftershocks of a mind-numbing orgasm.
âLeon,â you blubber out, tears rolling down your cheeks as you hide your face from him.Â
âSweetheart,â he coos, rushing to cradle your cheek with a hand he frees from clutching your ass. âAre you okay?â
With tears glittering across your eyelashes, you look at him helplessly, nestling into his large hand.Â
âMhm.â
Leon scans your face for any pain or regret you might have after he treated you roughly for the first time. âWhy the tears, hm?â
His tender tone of voice makes your pussy quiver all over again, and he feels it. You catch one of his eyebrows perking up, and his mouth growing into a lop-sided grin.
âYou fuck me so good,â you utter, eyes glossy and far gone.
Leon whistles to himself, chuckling darkly as he shakes his head. You usually donât say things like that, but youâre completely dazed and drunk off him that you donât care.
Though his reaction wakes you from your trance, and you soon realize the weight of your words, making you recoil in his arms.Â
âUh-uh,â he scolds you for trying to hide from him after all that, returning his hand to your ass and spanking you.
You gasp, clutching to his shoulders as he steps over the little mess of droplets on the floor. Leon lays you in a sea of sheets on the bed, and he doesnât wait until your back hits the bed before heâs driving into you again. Such explicit whines fall from your lips, and his groans turn guttural and frequent as your sensitive pussy sucks him in. While embedding his cock into you, he maneuvers you into a position he wants you in. Sliding his palms up the bed, he pulls your legs up with his arms and plants his hands beside your ribs. Your legs are stretched out like your pussy is, allowing him absolute dominion over your body.Â
You go silent for a few seconds, turning your head away as his cock burrows itself inside of you at a different, more pleasurable angle. Encircling the expanse of his vast shoulders, your nails rake his skin into new scratches, and it only pushes him further into you. Tears fall past your temples as he planks his body above you, putting his delicious weight on you. Leaning into your neck, his grunts vividly hit your ear with each slam of his hips.
âMy dirty girl,â he whispers in your ear, the plump of his lips pressing against the shell of it. âWanting this old man to fuck you like he hates your guts.â
You squeal in delight from his words, the tension in your core already building as it had no time to dissipate from your last orgasm. The mattress shifts off the bed frame with every merciless blow to your body, Leon fucking you like a complete animal. Heâs never done you like this before, and itâs destroyed your state of mind. Your hips begin to shrink into the mattress, wanting to get away from the stunning pleasure as it amounts to something so intense that itâs scary. Your face contorts, and your eyebrows furrow severely, your permanently open mouth gasping for air as another orgasm starts to blur your vision. You shift your gaze to his face, and the two of you maintain explicit eye contact. His fine, but aged features harden into a smoldering expression that makes your heart swoon.Â
âCâmon, baby, cum on daddyâs cock,â he thunders, voice cracking through the air, feeling your pussy constrict him in repeated pulses.
Your eyelashes flutter, and the world around you pauses, and you wail out. Sobbing as Leon fucks bliss into you, your pussy chokes his cock in unyielding convulsions. The ebb and flow washes over you like nirvana, splitting you into two and putting you back together again, leaving you changed. Leon lets out a groan that is damn near a moan, his cock spasming within your blistering walls.Â
âFuck, I love you,â he roars, kissing you madly and sending a series of groans into your disjointed mouth.Â
Goosebumps prick his agitated body while torrents of semen spurt from his tip and through your cervix. You moan with delight, your womb accepting his seed with utter joy. Possessively, Leon pumps in and out of you, his swollen cock throbbing in tandem with his erratic pulse. His breath stutters across your lips, stubble grazing your mouth and chin as you milk every lost drop of him like you were made for him.
As your respective heart rates calm, the two of you are lost in each otherâs eyes, swimming in the shared afterglow. Heâs looking down at you with reverence, his messy hair curtaining around his face, tickling you. Leaking out of you in thick globs, his cum drops down his balls and onto the bed as he stays buried in your delightful pussy.Â
âMaybe I can get you to call me daddy next time,â he huffs, looking down at your body like itâs a work of art.
You sigh, panting with your breasts heaving under his gaze. âWhatever you say, daddy.â
Leonâs sharp eyes roll across your body and up to your face, and you feel him stiffen inside you.
âYou keep that up, nâ Iâll put a baby in you.â
Your glossy eyes widen, and your heart rises to your throat, your pussy squeezing him.
âLeon,â you chide, your cheeks growing hot.Â
Chuckling, he leans down and presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. âGuess youâll be my only baby for now.â
summary: youâve seen a lot during your rebellion days & now with the New Republic⊠but working with a mandalorian may just send you into the wildest tailspin yet
word count: 11.9k (iâm sorry)
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. MAJOR MOVIE SPOILERS â ïž takes place before & during the events of the film, reader has a backstory & family but no physical description, light use of gendered language, slight annoyance to friends to lovers, pining & yearning, budding romance, threats & moments of violence/threat of kidnapping, flying as a love language, reader has instances of drinking and smoking, competency kink, light voice kink, slightly jealous!reader, spicy times in the cockpit (helmet stays on), dry humping, unprotected p in v, one moment of spit, creampie, protective and soft!Din
a/n: so⊠hi lmao I call this my âletâs daydream about being in the new movieâ fic or aka my attempt at plugging us into the storyline bcs itâs what we deserve lol big thanks to my dear @babynueva for always supporting my din delulu ily bb! Also this is my first official fic of the year & knowing itâs for Din means so much - so thank you for being here ⥠[divider credit & thanks to the ever amazing @saradika-graphics]
When a mandalorian first strides into base camp on Adelphi, you think youâre seeing things.
The sun bounces off his armor drawing all eyes. Itâs like his ancient armor proudly beams of its power and striking force. The mysterious Mandalorian walks with intent, a steady gait that dares anyone to cross him. You canât help but stare at the mysterious warrior.
âIs he⊠imperial?â Someone whispers in the mess hall and makeshift cantina.
âNope, heâs working with us now.â Teva answers simply.
You didnât believe it. But apparently itâs true.
âHeâs set to be an independent operative, but know he is working for and with us.â The colonelâs words then officially etch the truth in stone.
Mando comes around basecamp like a ghost. Barely staying put for you to register his presence, yet the whispers about him grow.
âI heard he took out a whole imperial squadron and a Moff too.â Dyana, your closest friend, tells you enthusiastic to catch up on all the rumors.
Then Ward calls for you, and you miss out on any other gossip Dyana and the others had.
âIâll be heading to Coruscant this week to meet with a few higher ups and senators⊠I need you to do all the debriefs with Mando while Iâm away.
Itâs like a rancor suddenly barreled into you.
âWait, me?â You stupidly question confused, and Ward shoots you a look, raised eyebrows and all.
âDo you think youâre not capable of handling this, ranger?â
âNo, colonel.â You quickly reply, and she nods.
âGood, thatâs what I thought.â
When you see her off, it must be obvious how hesitant you still are. Her sturdy hand gives your shoulder a reassuring pat.
âDonât worry. Heâs not as scary as everyone thinks he is.â Ward reassures, but it doesnât soothe you much.
Especially when the day arrives and you find yourself waiting for him.
Just like before, the mandalorian saunters in and your focus is immediately drawn to him. But then, it gets knocked out of orbit when you find heâs not alone.
A tiny green creature waddles in beside him, childishly blinking at every sight. Why is a child with the mandalorian?
âWhereâs Ward?â A rich striking voice startles you. Of course the terrifying warrior would sound this intimidating.
âWent to Coruscant for a meeting.â You reply partly stunned youâre actually talking to him.
âAnd you are?â But then mandalorian questions, sharp and distrustful, and it pisses you off. Heâs the newcomer here, and he decides to question you?
âIâm the person youâre stuck with for your debrief and mission logs unfortunately.â Your voice whips out sharp.
He doesnât say anything.
âWhat about Teva?â He counters again, and you want to scream. Whatâs this guyâs problem?
âOut on a mission,â your reply is sharper, bladed with annoyance.
âIf you want you can personally contact Ward and explain why Iâm not satisfactory enough for your debrief. Iâm sure sheâd love that.â Then the defiant reply escapes you faster than you can stop it.
Itâs as if the whole cantina mess hall heard you because it becomes deathly silent.
The mandalorian simply stares you down with his unflinching helmet. Then the warrior turns and strides out not saying another word.
âI think you pissed him off.â Wolf snickers breaking the stillness.
A sense of dread looms as you realize you mightâve truly just gotten yourself into a mountain load of trouble.
Ward calls that night, and you knew it was coming.
âWhy do you want to start a fight with the mandalorian?â She asks calmly over the comms.
âIâm not! He started it!â You canât help but childishly counter. You even further explain how demanding and untrusting he was.
The colonel sighs.
âYou have to understand⊠His people donât trust easily. And for good reason. Try to be the one to play nice here.â
You want to be petty and say he needs to as well, but you canât argue with Ward.
âDo the whole debrief drunk.â Zeb jokes about it with you the next day, and you scoff.
But by the time sunset arrives you start getting tempted to get a drink because maybe Mando isnât showing up.
Until he does. And again heâs not alone. The strange but sweet little creature continues waddling alongside Mando.
Itâs awkward as hell when he approaches your table. The tension lingers thick from yesterday prickling across your skin in the worst way.
You donât even know if you should say anything
âMweh?â A surprisingly soft little noise floats through the tension and you turn towards it. You blink down to find the mysterious little being staring up at you with sweet wide eyes.
With curious claws, the baby reaches for the loth cat charm dangling off your belt, the one of many trinkets your niece has given you.
Melted by the sight, you grin and scoot closer. Then you unclasp the charm for the baby to examine it more.
âYou like it? Itâs cute right?â
The little one agrees with a chirp sounding so endearing.
Something softly clicks. If a creature so tiny and innocent as this baby confidently travels with the mandalorian, then he couldn't be that much of an ass.
Someone sighs. Then settling back into your seat, you find the mandalorian seated across from you. The baby hops up to sit beside him. Yet his eager eyes remain happily taken with your charm.
âThat imp base on Hoth had no leads.â He speaks first.
Youâre stunned.
Your gut urges you to not make a big deal about this, to simply now see him as another coworker.
So you nod and casually plug in the info on your datapad.
âHoth was a long shot, but we appreciate you going.â You even add that in.
You knew of a few pilots who served during the Hoth raid. Itâs an unforgiving planet, takes a lot of guts to investigate that icy fortress.
âWhatâs the next order?â Mando asks firm, all business, just like Ward had told you.
You slide him a bounty chip containing info on a possible military officer who could be running a smuggling ring. The mandalorian doesnât say anything else, simply takes the card and stands up.
âCome on, kid.â All he does is address the baby, not even sparing you a second glance.
Cute and so politely, the kid hands back your loth cat with a noise that feels like a thank you.
âYouâre welcome, little cutie,â you tell him warmly.
Once the pair are out of sight, you sigh exhausted, relieved, and sprawl out on the table glad itâs over. Someone barks a laugh, and you arenât even embarrassed about it.
You canât wait till this is over.
Itâs already been a week and a half of being grounded, doing these debriefs with Mando. You miss being in the skies. But all that hope of getting back in the clouds gets squashed.
âI need to negotiate a few more issues with Senator Organa⊠can you continue to do the debrief?â It isnât much of a question but more of an order from Ward.
So you meet with Mando for the rest of the week and into the next. Itâs cordial, barely speaking for more than ten minutes with each other.
You try to be friendly, make a joke about the weather, but he just silently stares at you, obviously annoyed.
And it pisses you off all over again.
But you think of the adorable little baby who eagerly tags along with the terrifying hunter. The kid sweetly waves, and you wave back. You started bringing treats after his guardian chided him for eating some of yours.
The annoyed sigh Mando gave when you brought more snacks to share was worth it.
This time you decided to bring something else along with you.
It was the first charm your sister gave you when you became a pilot. A tradition her daughter, your niece, now does with you.
âLook!â You eagerly hold up the plush creature that makes the babyâs eyes go wide.
With adorable tiny grabby hands, he reaches for it and you happily hand it over.
You grin pleased seeing how pleased the kid coos.
âWhatâs your name?â The sudden question from Mando surprises you.
A bit stunned, you give it to him.
He nods solemnly, repeating it. Your heart does a strange flip hearing his deep voice say your name.
âThis is Grogu.â He then introduces the kid who chimes in hearing his name.
âNice to meet you, Grogu.â You excitedly greet the kid.
Then you turn to Groguâs guardian. This solemn but striking mandalorian now has you curious to who he is. Your mind thinks about the rumors that have spread about him.
âAnd you? Whatâs your name?â You ask politely, but immediately you can almost hear Dyana screaming at you. Sheâs become the new expert on Mandalorian customs.
âTheyâre private people,â she had told you, confirming what Ward had said. âItâs probably why not a lot of people know about him, much less his name.â
âIâm sorry, forgive me.â You stammer quickly. âYou donât have to give it.â
A moment passes, and you worry youâve unraveled this tentative truce or whatever it is.
âDin⊠Din Djarin.â His full name. Itâs lovely.
âDinâŠâ you repeat it.
âItâs nice to meet you too.â And you mean that.
Mando, Din, nods, and you think itâs worth the few weeks being out of the skies.
When Din and Grogu leave you realize the kid still holds onto your plush charm.
âCome on kid, give it back.â Din urges noticing too.
âNo itâs okay. He can keep it. Give it back to me next time.â You grin at the baby, and Grogu giggles pleased at the answer.
âWhat do you say, kid?â
Grogu chirps a sweet thanks and waddles away content with the plushie in his arms.
The next day, as promised, he brings it back. But you exchange another charm with him. This time itâs a cute cloud with a sweet face. Eager for the new trinket, Grogu ditches the plushie and you laugh.
Work then follows suit. Din explains on the intel heâs slowly gaining on the imp official.
âTaking a bit longer than expected.â Din gruffly admits.
âDonât worry. Rodents like him know how to hide. Itâs not your fault. Then again thatâs probably an insult to rodents.â Youâve been trying to stay professional, channel your inner composed Colonel Ward. But the old rebel pilot comes out.
Suddenly, a chuckle follows.
Din laughed.
You swear you misheard it. But the way Grogu giggles agreeing with his protector, you know you heard correctly.
âA fair statement.â Din agrees.
And you grin back at him. A golden victorious feeling bubbles in your chest.
Watching the pair leave, you find youâre excited to see them again.
The rest of the debriefs go smoother than ever. You bring new charms for Grogu to play with, and Din seems to settle in more.
âYou have a lot of those.â He even comments a bit dry when you exchange another new charm with Grogu. This time itâs a fuzzy bantha.
âManaged to gather a small collection.â You explain.
âReally⊠couldnât tell.â Din deadpans.
Thatâs when you realized he just joked with you.
âThink you might like those two,â Zeb teases the next time he drops by the mess hall.
âItâs called being civil.â You stubbornly reply while messing with the holopad, and the Lasat warrior barks a laugh.
âCivil? Yeah sure.â He teases further.
You stay stubbornly quiet.
âDonât worry⊠Theyâve a pain in my ass too.â Zeb huffs, and it does soothe your annoyance.
Especially now that something is festered in you, a sort of curious itch to learn more about Din Djarin.
âI heard⊠he really did blow up an entire imperial base. Thatâs how Teva found him.â Dyana is happy to spill more gossip about him.
âHeâs quiet, doesnât talk much. So I doubt heâd say anything even if he did.â You mutter.
âDoes he really keep a pet around?â Dyana presses for any new info.
The word âpetâ sounds harsh.
âHeâs more like the kidâs guardian.â The word âparentâ instead wants to slip out especially after youâve seen Dinâs fatherly watch over the baby.
âOh thatâs even more interesting! Why didnât you tell me this earlier?!â Dyana shrieks.
âYouâve been busy.â You half lie.
You could argue that itâs because you want to protect Dinâs trust and donât want to disturb that. But the truth is, you donât want to share this little secret bond youâve cultivated with him.
You however rapidly kick those thoughts away.
Ward will be back sometime this week. Your brief time with the Mandalorian would be over soon.
Except that time comes sooner than expected.
The next morning Colonel Ward arrives, an early return. Disappointment arrives just as fast. You knew this was only a temporary thing.
Trying not to feel annoyed, you now work on your x-wing. Deep under the hull, you refuel trying just to keep your mind focused here.
âDidnât know you were a mechanic.â Suddenly, the rich voice of a certain mandalorian echoes in the hanger.
You scramble out from under the ship confused if you heard right.
But standing off to the side are indeed Din and Grogu.
âWhat? Thought I just did paper work and worked as an assistant?â You tease.
Din chuckles, and it sinks into the glowing sunlight coating the hanger in its glory.
âYouâre looking at one of the New Republicâs best pilots!â Dyana.
She perks up emerging from the other side of the ship, and you shoot a glare her way not even knowing where she came from.
âA pilot?â Din questions, curious.
His helmet tilts towards you.
âSometimes,â you shrug.
âAnd I wouldnât say best.â You weakly laugh then glower at Dyana again. She simply beams innocently back at you.
âOne day you gotta tell him about Endor. Though Iâm sure you have plenty of fight stories to share too, Mando!â
You want to strangle her.
âYou fought at Endor?â Din asks, helmet fully facing you and voice faintly awed.
It all makes your skin feel heated and tight.
All you can do is shrug again.
Endor seems like so long ago now. You were so much younger then. Wild and ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of protecting everything you loved. A small secret corner of your heart aches for those days of when you flew with such fire.
âWell⊠gotta go! Nice to finally meet you both!â Dyana nods to Din and smiles at the baby before scurrying away.
A traitor in the flesh fleeing if you ever did see one.
âSoâŠan x-wing pilot.â Din comments, still watching you. His curious and impressed tone ignites a strange sensation in your chest that threatens to consume you.
âOn good days I am.â You again shrug with a half smile.
âSo what was Endor like?â He inquires, and youâre surprised heâs curious about that.
âDonât know, never went on planet⊠kinda was busy flying around.â
You donât even need to see his face to know heâs giving you a silent unamused stare. He must not think your joke is as funny as you do.
A surprised giggle does come though. Both you and Din discover Grogu effortlessly climbing up onto the wing of the ship.
âKid.â Din chides.
âHow did you get up there so fast?â You laugh amused at the sight of this tiny creature waddling on top of your x-wing.
Din sighs, truly parental.
âI take it that you fly?â You ask him yet keeping your gaze on Grogu to make sure he stays safe.
âI do.â Din answers, confident.
âMust be why heâs so curious and comfortable around ships. Itâs good when kids get to experience being in the air.â You think of your niece who eagerly tries to convince you to fly her around.
âMy niece is the same way.â You reveal.
Din hums a noise, acknowledging heâs listening.
âIs she the reason why you have all those charms?â He asks in a tone softer than youâve ever heard.
âExcuse you, they are medals of honor.â You jokingly try to sound offended.
âWith you I wouldnât be surprised.â He replies deadpan, and you snicker.
âBut yeah⊠sheâs the one who gives them to me.â You explain how it was your sister who first started giving you those charms to decorate your x-wing.
They were to remind you to come home safe.
âI was ordered not to come home unless I brought the charms back safe and sound.â You repeat the same words your sister told you.
A soft breeze enters the hanger bringing in a welcoming cooling touch. But itâs then you realize how close youâre now standing next to Din. You didnât even notice when you or him moved closer to each other.
âThatâs⊠sweet.â His voice carries a tenderness that sneaks under your ribs and sinks in deep.
You turn and find heâs already looking at you.
Under Dinâs gaze, itâs like youâre caught in a tractor beam unable to speak or move.
Dangerous thoughts have already begun clouding your mind, and they all connect back to this man. Like how youâve noticed how broad his shoulders look, and how strong he is helping move crates around the base. Whatâs worse is youâve begun wondering what this mandalorian looks like under his helm.
Groguâs little giggle finally draws your attention away. Currently he peeks inside the cockpit through the window.
âSo I take it this is your ship?â Din asks.
âNo, I stole it.â You quip back.
âSure you did.â His dry reply makes you snicker.
âItâs how I got to fight at Endor.â You jest, stealing a quick glance at Din. Of course he shakes his head unamused.
âThought you didnât see Endor.â He uses your dry joke back at you, and you canât help it.
You playfully elbow him.
Another little giggle comes. Glancing back to the ship, Grogu now peers over from the wingâs edge grinning at you and Din.
âLittle troublemaker, are you going to be a pilot one day?â You smile at Grogu.
âMweh!â He squeals.
âI think thatâs a yes,â you tell Din proudly.
âNo.â Din answers back firmly.
âItâs okay Iâll teach you one day,â you counter sweetly, and the baby giggles more.
âNo.â Din repeats again firmer.
A small cluster of pilots approach. Their laughter and conversation fill the air. Guess this moment is over.
âStill need to see Ward⊠shouldnât keep her waiting.â Din is smooth about making his exit.
Quickly Grogu jumps into his arms, and you bid the duo goodbye for now.
You havenât been in the air for long, but it feels like youâre floating now.
The moments you see the pair become like scattered stars.
Months settle in, and a routine follows. You sometimes see Din in the mess hall cantina when you return from a mission. Discussing with the colonel, all you can simply do is give your boys quick smiles.
Other times Din stops by the hanger where you linger now more than ever hoping he drops by. You and him talk about work, missions, the various planets visited.
You want to ask what got him to work for the new republic, but you donât want to disturb whatever is growing between you and him.
âItâs budding love.â Dyana sagely declares one evening at the cantina, and Zeb agrees.
âItâs not!â You screech over a drink.
âI donât think Mando has said more than five words to me, yet I see him talking to you so much.â Another pilot chimes in.
âHe talks to Zeb the most!â You argue back. The two of them are often paired up on missions now. You try not to get annoyed by it.
âNot as much as you, kid.â Zeb rebuttals.
âDonât think we havenât seen the way he hangs around the hanger for you.â Sash Ketter snickers, and it only ignites the discussion once again.
You dismiss all their words as attempts trying to rile you up.
Because you donât want to face the truth. You long for your chats with Din, even just to see him for a moment and play with Grogu.
Itâs just an awful infatuation. Thatâs it.
Your small vacation break now approaching may be more of a blessing than you realize. Itâll hopefully give you time to clear your head.
âIâm heading home to visit family. Iâll be sure to bring back something good.â You tell Din the next time you run into him outside the cantina.
âThereâs no need. Just⊠be safe.â Din nods.
His gentle words carry you the entire flight home.
The brief week away provides peaceful moments of relaxation. While you enjoy the time spent with your sisterâs family, you long to return to Adelphi.
âSo, what did you get me this time?â You ask your niece the day before youâre set to head back.
âI got you⊠THIS!â She proudly raises up an odd creature. You canât even tell what it is.
âShe made it herself.â Your sister whispers, and your eyes go wide.
âWhat?! Why didnât you tell me we have an artist in this family now?!â You cry excitedly scooping up your niece in your arms and tickle her with glee as she squeaks excitedly.
âActually before I go⊠Do you think you can help me make one too?â You ask her and your niece's eyes light up.
With eager hands she gathers all her supplies to deposit them on the table ready to craft.
âSo⊠are you going to tell me who youâre making this for?â Your sister asks slightly suspiciously as you add little puffballs to your monster creation.
âWhat if I just want my charm to have a friend, huh?â You deflect.
âYeah sure.â Sheâs not convinced but thankfully doesnât press any further.
As hard as it is saying goodbye to her and your niece, youâre thankful to finally be back to your routine.
And of course, the new little charm sitting in your pocket seems to hold so much weight.
Din returns a few days after you. Itâs hard trying to ignore the bubbling joy that rises watching him approach your x-wing first.
âWelcome back.â He greets and Grogu squeals adorably scurrying to you.
Eagerly you welcome his jump into your arms, and you squeeze him tight.
âI miss you too,â you tell Grogu but hope his father knows you mean him as well.
âAnd look, I got something for you.â You shift to hold Grogu in one arm.
Then you hold up the new charm.
âWhat is it supposed to be?â Din sounds confused and slightly alarmed.
âItâs a little monster,â you reply lightly insulted.
âMy niece and I made these, and I knew someone who might like it.â You grin towards Grogu now.
âBweh!â He cheers and draws the charm into his small arms so enamored with the strange monstrosity already.
âSee! He likes it, that's what matters.â You huff proudly at Din.
Grogu chirps like he agrees. You laugh then catch Dinâs chuckle too.
âWhat do you say, kid?â Din says.
Grogu however doesnât say anything. Instead he leans up and hugs you. His sweet little arms curl against your neck.
Holding this baby so tight is like holding a little newborn star. Youâre grateful for this moment and hug Grogu close, closing your eyes to fully embrace this wonderful tiny soul.
âYouâre welcome, little troublemaker.â You softly tell him.
The baby then settles into your arms as if itâs the most natural thing in the world.
Worried you might have overstepped, you quickly snap your attention to Din. His helmet stays focused on you.
You wonder what his eyes look like, what color swims within his gaze.
âGlad youâre back safe.â Dinâs voice sounds low, softer and a bit thick.
âMe too,â you reply, letting yourself sink into whatever it is overtaking your entire heart.
This infatuation, or whatever itâs mutated into, grows stronger. And it terrifies you.
But youâre reminded quickly there are more terrifying things to face.
The wound isnât looking good.
Youâre more pissed at yourself for getting ambushed by damn pirates. This operation was supposed to be simple, check in on the distress signal intercepted by base. But one pirate ambush later and youâre now stranded trying to stop the bleeding.
You just hope the emergency signal you sent back to camp went through. Leaning against your ship, you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. Youâve dealt with worse. You can handle this.
Until something pierces your back, and a scream of pain escapes you. Electricity courses through your body knocking you to the ground.
Everything stings. You can barely concentrate, but you hear them. Gleeful disgusting laughs swirling all around. The damn piratesâŠ
âThink of the price weâll get for x-wing parts!â One of them muses.
âOr even for the pilot, quite a cute one.â That comment unleashes a panicked feral terror.
Get up, you have to get up. Even though every part of your body stings, screaming to stay still, you have to move.
You slowly try to sit up through the aftershocks, but then a boot comes to slowly step on your chest, pressing you down to the dirt.
âNah uh little pilot, where do ya think youâre going.â A voice snickers.
You clench your jaw hard. This isnât looking good.
A sudden blaster shot fires and immediately takes out a pirate with accurate precision.
âWhat was that?!â One of them screams.
Then a blaster shot silenced him.
âStep away from her now.â Din.
Or someone sounding like him.
The voice is deadly, terrifying, and you wonder if it even is Din.
Then the pirate towering above you with his boot still pressing on your chest suddenly gets thrown off.
Weakly you cough sitting up. While you do, you witness Din in action and realize heâs truly here.
And the way he attacks, effortlessly slicing through the pirate captain and the lackeys that try rushing him - heâs incredible.
Youâve never seen anyone fight so fluidly and powerful. Youâre witnessing one of the most powerful warriors in the galaxyâŠ
And heâs here to save you.
A small concerned whimper comes to your side and immediately you glance down. Grogu quickly waddles to your arm and flashes his wide worried eyes up to you.
âIâm okay, I promise.â He must see the wound, and you try smiling reassuringly.
He hums a small noise at you. Then he closes his eyes, laying his little claw against your elbow. Slowly a gentle warmth suddenly crawls up your shoulder.
What is he doing?
The stinging pain vanishes instantly. Reaching up to your shoulder, you find no wound.
âMweh.â Grogu peers up at you with a small little wave.
âYou really are something else, little trouble maker⊠thank you.â You fondly stroke his fuzzy little head, and he beams.
Din urgently yells your name and soon rushes to kneel before you. Gloved hands reach out to steady your shoulders.
âIâm fine.â You now reassure him and move to squeeze one of his hands.
An exhale escapes Din, relieved.
âIâm sorry you both had to come all the way out here. Iâm sure there are better bounties to hunt.â You half tease.
âDonât apologize.â He immediately snaps.
Grogu makes a sad noise as if chiding his father.
âJust glad youâre safe.â So Din gently adds and steadily helps you stand.
Zeb lands moments later with a mechanic to help patch up your ship. The entire time Din stays by your side, letting you lean against him for support. His guiding hand never leaves you.
Youâre given the rest of the week off to recover.
âSo was Mando on a mission with you when my distress beacon went out?â You ask Zeb when he drops by to check on you.
He snorts, giving you a knowing side eye smirk.
âIs that what you think?â Zeb doesnât elaborate even when you pester him.
Itâs Dyana of course who reveals the truth.
âMando was the first to rush out. Ward had to practically stop him before he flew off on his own.â Her words unravel something effortlessly in you.
How can you ignore these feelings for a mandalorian anymore?
âI think itâs romantic.â Dyana thankfully doesnât judge you when you finally admit everything to her.
There was no time for romance during a rebellion, during a war. Even now you almost scoff at the idea. There are other things to do, other things to focus on than get lovesick over someone.
But Din dismantled all those old thoughts in you, leaving you exposed and almost greedy for someone now.
âItâs okay to want that you know⊠romance and companionship.â Dyana tells you already sensing your hesitation.
You know her and a cute mechanic have been dating off and on for a while. Sheâs always been urging you to get out more, maybe try to find someone. Guess you just had to wait for a mandalorian to show up.
But you have to put all those giggles and feelings aside.
Your time resting is done, and immediately youâre thrown back into the rush of work.
A mission and orders arrive a few days later on your datapad.
Raid strike this week, get ready
Itâs not a full strike squadron, but youâre thankful Zeb is tagging along.
âThink your boyfriend might be joining us.â He teases, and your eyes narrow hard. Now you regret him being here.
âI donât have a boyfriend.â You rapidly dismiss.
âHuh uh.â He rolls his eyes.
As if summoned to add to your pain, Din enters the command center. It feels like feral lizard birds were released in your stomach.
Immediately his helmet spots you. Grogu perched on his shoulder chirps upon seeing you. Trying to act relaxed, you give the boys a casual wave and bright grin.
Zeb chuckles, and you silently shush him again under your breath. You walk to meet Din halfway.
âGlad youâre doing better.â He says, faintly warm, and you nod grateful.
âThanks to my two heroes,â you thank them both again. Grogu beams toothy when you tickle his chin.
Din doesnât say anything.
âGuess weâre finally teaming up.â So you speak up first.
âSeems like it,â Din agrees.
This isnât the first time heâs seen you in your pilot gear. Hell, he just rescued you last week. But for some reason, you feel more self aware than ever.
Thankfully Ward enters, drawing the roomâs attention to her.
The mission is to ambush the warlord now barricaded up in his mansion. Heâs apparently greatly armed and even hired a small air brigade. Itâs why this strike squadron was called in. Youâre curious why Din is here though.
âWithout the mandalorianâs intel, we wouldnât have this opportunity. So we will be following his lead.â She sends her focus to him.
Din simply and silently nods back.
Then he moves to the holo map and gives details about the estate. Hearing how commanding and surefire his voice resounds, the way he walks confidently and without any hesitation, heâs incredible.
But thereâs no time to linger on this warrior.
Itâs time to fly.
âFinally get to see you in action,â you tell Din as he walks out with you.
âGuess you will.â He replies with a hint of something playful, and it only speeds up your racing heart.
All you can do is laugh before parting ways.
âDonât get lost in the clouds.â You teasingly yell to the mandalorian and he looks back at you from over his shoulder.
You canât see Dinâs eyes, but you hope theyâre amused.
Him and Grogu now trail away from where youâre stationed, and you settle into your ship.
Your x-wing roars alive, and the familiar comms flicker in your ear. Then the call signals electrify the start to battle.
âDelphi squadron, lock in.â Teva announces on the main channel, the leader for this run. Everyone follows suit locking in their coordinates.
âBlue 9, standing by.â You chime in, readying the flight path.
âStarfighter, standing by.â Then a new voice floats through your helmet.
The tone resonates rich as a stormy ocean sending a shock through your system.
Hearing Din in your helmet does something to you so wild that you feel guilty at how fast your core clenched. You recollect yourself fast.
Thatâs when you notice the ship he joined in with.
A starfighter? Thereâs no way. Those ships donât exist.
But again, youâre proven so wrong.
Among the gunfire and smoke, the sounds of battle, a new gleam of silver catches your attention. The Naboo N-1 fighter is a marvel.
A sleek whisper of a dream, one minute sheâs a simple flicker of light then the next sheâs firing directly in the trenches of the fight.
But as in awe of the ship as you are, itâs the mandalorian who leaves you breathless.
Din flies amazing. The fast maneuvering, the excellent read he makes of the battle, among his readiness to swoop in and out of tight spaces - youâve never seen anyone fly this beautifully.
It inspires you, the type of flying that makes you want to soar higher to catch up.
So you do.
You embrace the rebel pilot you always might be and dive through the canyons chasing after one of the bandits the warlord hired.
Quickly you dispatch the enemy ship then swirl and maneuver your x-wing to return to the open sky.
âTarget on your left.â Dinâs voice suddenly thunders in your ear, chiming in on your personal channel.
âGot it.â You reply steady and twist fast enough to fire on the swing mid air.
âGot him, great shot!â Listening to Dinâs deep fierce voice over your private channel, his voice colored in pride, you have to mute the channel to exhale.
Because a wave of arousal crawled up your spine so fast you had to bite your lip. Now you try settling yourself down again.
You pride yourself on being composed when you fly. There of course have been times when youâve gotten emotional and maybe reacted.
Yet here this masked man completely disarms you.
Itâs a fight you realize you wonât win.
The raid is successful, and the warlord gets taken in alive. Thatâs the win that matters.
âGreat job,â Din suddenly voices back in your comms, still sounding so proud, and you melt all over again.
âYou too, thanks for the support,â you answer back, just as fond, then rapidly switch over the channel.
âCaptain,â you ask Teva on his personal comms.
âBefore we leave, do you think I can test Mando on how he flies?â
Teva takes a moment then sighs.
âMake it quick.â
Giddy you quickly chime back onto Dinâs channel.
âWanna go for a run?â A part of you worries he wonât want to join you.
âLead the way.â But Din quickly answers, and you pull back up to the clouds.
The planet is rather gorgeous, full of lush canyons and towering mountains. Itâs a flight playground. Among the skies, twisting and twirling down through the natural landscape, you and Din soar around each other, with each.
Playful, yet delicately cautious, your x-wing revolves alongside his starfighter. Din keeps up with you every moment. Quietly the image of a dance among the clouds floats into your mind.
âUp for a race?â He suddenly asks.
âOh, you know it.â You agree, excited. You settle into your seat, ready to take off.
But in a flash, he zooms past you.
âWhat the hell?!â You shriek over the comms.
Dinâs husky laugh in your ear is a beautiful reward.
Returning back to Adelphi, you and him fly beside each other. Ward gives everyone the night off, and the cantina already seems to shine extra bright landing in.
Settling into your spot in the hanger, you notice Din lands his starfighter closer than ever.
Sliding off your helmet, for a moment you worry about how bad your hair looks, how messy and sweaty you must be.
But heading down the ladder, Din already walks towards you.
All your worries vanish. You donât even care how fast you walk towards him. Here standing before Din under the low lights of the hanger, the world melts away.
âYou were incredible.â
âYou flew⊠amazing.â
Both you and Din speak at the same time, words jumbling up and getting tangled. It startles you, even his shoulders stiffen a bit.
Then you laugh.
âNo, you were the incredible one.â You tell him first.
âNot compared to you,â he shakes his head.
âGlad I finally got to see one of the Rebellionâs and New Republicâs best pilots in action.â Thereâs a smirk in his voice, and heat burns through your veins.
Any words you want to say, heâs stolen them right from you. All youâre reduced to is a love struck fool caught in the orbit of this powerful mandalorian.
Din doesnât say anything either. Itâs like you and him canât look away from the other standing this close.
âHey! Ya two love birds gonna join us or what?â Zeb suddenly breaks the spell, and your blood instantly boils.
You hiss foul curses at Zeb, and he only cackles with laughter.
Embarrassed and trying to escape this moment you shake your head heading towards the exit.
âCome on, letâs go celebrate.â You manage to smile at Din hoping to dispel any comments about what Zeb said.
The mandalorian follows you into the mess hall cantina. The lively celebratory air glimmers with joyous laughter. Itâs a welcoming atmosphere, and even Wolf along with a few other pilots ask Din to join them.
âMaybe in a bit,â He nods, instead staying by your side when you approach the bar.
âNo pressure, but drinks on me if you want.â You offer.
âIâll pass, but thanks.â He instead places down credits for your drink, and you thank him with a toast.
âCome on, letâs see how good of a sabacc player you are.â After taking a huge sip, you allow the alcohol to sting in the best way.
âThink you might be dissapointed,â Din chuckles.
Of course heâs a damn natural.
Everyone at the table cries in frustration when he wins the second round, and you even narrow your eyes at him.
âOh, so youâre a liar.â You joke good naturedly.
âNever said I was good or bad.â He answers and itâs rather coy, lighter than what youâve heard from him.
âNext time Mando I want you cominâ with me off planet! We could really win big.â Someone suggests and now itâs comforting seeing how much everyone has warmed up to him, how much Din has settled in here too.
Until you realize the baby is missing and immediately turn to Din. Maybe itâs the atmosphere but you lean closer to him placing your hand against his arm.
âWait, whereâs Grogu?â You ask concerned and low.
Din leans closer to you, his helmet almost grazing your face.
âDonât worry, heâs asleep in the barracks.â Dinâs answer comes low, reassuring.
Then he reaches up to lay his hand on top of yours. Itâs a reassuring hold, a soft touch that brings comfort.
You exhale relieved and donât have time to realize what he just did until someone drags Din away to play darts.
He squeezed your hand, and you now fight against a dumb smile just thinking about it.
Even after another round of getting your ass kicked at cards, you donât care. You glance over to Din.
A cluster of pilots surround him. Youâre not surprised. Heâs a marvel, someone truly remarkable. But one of the prettier pilots slides up next to Din, batting her eyelashes so dreamily up at him.
Something fierce, venomous and coated in jealousy, strikes.
Reaching to Wolf, you nudge his shoulder a few times, and he knowingly looks at you. Not saying anything, he discreetly slips you a smoke stick.
You head out of the cantina into the soft warm night and light up. The smoke in your lungs settles you down for a moment and cuts through the alcohol.
Dumb Mandalorian man making you feel this wayâŠ
Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you watch the smoke you exhale mix into the air.
âDidnât know you smoked.â Din.
His voice melts into the night like he stepped out of the shadows themselves. As he wanders towards you, you shift to lean against the rail of the patio.
âNot often,â you truthfully answer. Itâs been a long time since you lit up.
A bad habit you picked up during your rebellion days, being as young as you were around seasoned veteran pilots. It became a way to calm yourself down and stop your hands from shaking from the nerves.
You even tell him that.
âWhat made you join?â He asks, tentative and quiet.
A loaded question but one you feel comfortable enough to answer, especially with him.
The empire took so much from you. Youâre grateful you and your sister managed to keep each other safe, look out for each other. You werenât lying when you joked about stealing ships. Learning to steal is how you survived for a while as a kid.
Then you accidentally stole from a man named Luthen Rael, and your life changed. Whatever he saw in your eyes that day when he caught you⊠it kept you alive.
Heâs the one who helped get your wings, got you in touch with rebellion once you could fly. Once you joined, you never saw him again.
âNever looked back since.â You tell this all to Din.
You donât regret your choices. Theyâre what brought you here after all, kept you safe even during the danger.
âYou did what you had to⊠you should be proud of the life youâve made. Of the wars you've fought and survived.â Din sincerely commends you, and his words settle deep in your heart.
You softly thank him, appreciating the sentiment.
âAnd you? What brought you to the New Republic?â Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you finally decide to ask.
This time heâs sighing and moves to lean against the rail beside you. Heâs pressed up right beside you.
âBenn a long way to get here as well.â Heâs vague, but explains how he was, and still is a bounty hunter by trade. How that path led him to the kid. How Grogu is by Mandalorian creed his son and apprentice now.
âI couldn't keep getting involved with pirates, working for gangsters. Itâs not the life I wanted anymore.â
Itâs admirable seeing how valiant Dinâs spirit shines, yet you hear how weary his soul must be like he carries so much guilt.
âThere are wars youâve fought too, Din. You should be proud of your victories. Even the ones you donât think you should be.â Maybe itâs the fading alcohol and slow numbness of the smoke stick, but you want more than ever to just hold him.
You go to take another drag to stop yourself from doing anything reckless, but find your smoke stick is burnt to its final end.
âI donât.. deserve such kind words. But thank you.â Dinâs voice is thick, tangled in thorny emotions.
Yet underneath it all, he sounds softer and raw, like a man trying to find comfort in your words.
So you turn and see his striking dark T visor gaze on you.
A moment passes where itâs just you and him under the night sky, staring at each other.
âNo matter what path you took, I'm glad youâre here.â You earnestly tell him.
In such a short amount of time this mandalorian has reawakened something in you and takes up such a large part of your heart.
âMe too.â Din mutters, nodding.
Another x-wing lands outside stealing your attention away as the engines break the quiet night air.
âAlways been curious to how they fly.â Din suddenly comments sounding intrigued.
âYou wanna see?â
He turns to you, helmet tilted incredulous and challenging.
âCome on,â so you challenge him back with a toothy grin.
Immediately Din follows behind you, footsteps quick yet terrifying agile.
The hanger sits in eerie stillness this time of night.
âShould we even be here?â Din asks low, a bit cautious.
âDidnât take you as a âby the booksâ guy, Mando.â You use the common name everyone calls him as a tease.
âOnly when it comes to my employer.â He replies unamused.
âTrust me, weâll be fine.â You wave him off and he continues following you further into the dark hanger.
He doesnât know it, but this place, especially for pilots, is an infamous makeout spot. You try not to think about that too much.
There you arrive at your x-wing.
âHop in,â you nudge him towards the ladder.
âWhat?â Din sounding so boyish and confused makes you laugh.
âGet in,â you urge.
Sighing defeated he climbs up the ladder to the cockpit and you follow. You look away trying not to stare at his cute ass.
âCan we even fit in this?â
âX-wings are capable of holding various types and sizes of pilots. We are not the empire, thank you very much,â you proudly declare.
The hatch opens, and Din jumps in. The dashboard and control panel light up as he takes a seat in your chair.
Your throat goes dry seeing him sit in the same pilot seat you fly in.
âThrottle, control stick,â he points out immediately.
As much room as you have, it is cramped standing up. So you curl to the side, closer to him, but keep your eyes on the control monitor.
âItâs got a good radar system.â Din comments admiring the monitor too.
You rattle on about how these are the upgraded models everyone got after the war. The original ones you used during the rebellion are classic, but the upgrades were warmly welcomed.
âSorry, this all must sound boring.â You weakly laugh.
âItâs not. Tell me more.â He reassures.
Youâre about to until you hear commotion around the hanger.
So, quickly you scramble up and around to slide into the seat -
Right between the V of Dinâs legs.
You crouch low and drag him down too.
âWhâŠwhat are you-â
âShhâŠâ you shush him. âHave to lie low just in case.â
âSo we should leave.â Din urges urgent.
âWeâre fine.â You reassure him now.
The commotion you thought you heard passes by, and silence returns.
You exhale a bit relieved, moving to sit up. Then you grin at him from over your shoulder.
âSee⊠told you weâd be fine.â
He stays quiet.
It hits you. Maybe you upset him or crossed a line being this close. Though you arenât fully pressed up against his chest, the position is still intimate. Youâre literally between his legs.
You want to apologize, especially now that the courage fades away fast.
But all you can think about is how stunning Din is, how gorgeous he looks here in your ship.
âOne day you should fly it.â You truthfully blurt out while staring at him.
âDonât think Ward would let me.â He stiffly replies.
âI would.â You immediately counter.
âPlus you look good in here...â Then you realize what you just admitted.
So you try to recover fast.
âKnowing your skills, if you had been with us during the rebellion days, you wouldâve fit in just fine. Probably wouldâve even been half as good as me.â You add hastily, half joking, hoping he doesnât linger on anything you said before.
You now glance away to check out the window. The hanger is thankfully still empty.
Then Din suddenly softly breathes your name.
Youâve never heard it sound so holy and raw that it rips you wide open. You completely shift around to glance at him in the lowly light cockpit.
âHow inebriated are you?â He asks husky, thick.
âI could recite the entire radar flight plan chart we made for Endor.â You tell him completely wide awake now. Every part of you feels like a live wire completely focused on this man.
His low weak chuckle makes your stomach flip in the best way.
Din exhales, breathy and deep.
You donât want to over step, donât want to ruin this. So you patiently wait, hoping he makes the first move.
Feeling his arms slide around yours, tentative but curious, youâre galvanized.
Immediately you rise and twist around to fully stare down at him. Looking at Din for a moment, here in the cockpit of your ship, you want to burn this image into your memory. Want to consecrate this in a way you never may do with anyone else again.
You rest your legs on either side of his, caging him in then you settle down onto his lap.
The soft low noise Din makes is music to your ears.
He says your name, but it sounds more like a warning.
âI want this⊠I want you.â You tell him, finally admitting the words out loud.
Then, you grind down on his lap, straddling him, and immediately pleasure floods into your system.
Din groans, and it spurs you on instantly.
Frustrated that youâre still in your damn flight suit, you unzip the top, slide off the jacket, and exhale feeling the coolness reach your skin. Sliding your hands up to his shoulders you whisper his name.
Then you grind against the bulge in Dinâs pants pressing into you, and your mind goes foggy.
But not foggy enough that you notice Din remains still.
Everything collides into you with a halting stop. What if he doesnât want this?
âIâm⊠Iâm so sorry.â You halt your movements and apologize composed as you can. Awkwardly you lift yourself off of him.
âNo I-â Din starts, but then stops himself.
You settle back down on him but this time further back on his thighs.
âDo you⊠not want to do this?â You ask cautiously. âBecause itâs okay if you donât.â
Itâs okay if you donât want me, is what you actually want to say. But youâre not brave enough for that, no matter how many empire ships youâve shot down.
âNo.â Din noisily exhales frustrated.
His hands go to rest on your thighs. His head falls forward, crestfallen.
âI want this, want you. Just afraid I wonât be able to stop.â He admits weak.
âYou donât have to stop⊠I donât want you to.â You admit, soft and greedy, deciding not to hold back now.
Here in your ship, you think maybe heâs become your prey, trapped in your spiderweb. But then his helmet ever so slightly tilts up to you. Under the watch of his unflinching visor, you now feel like a prey caught within a hunterâs gaze.
His heavy breathing grows stronger and reignites something in you.
âDin,â You mutter his name, and he lets out a strained curse.
âI think about you⊠too much.â Din reveals like itâs a painful truth, as if the words hurt to say.
âI think about you all the time.â The truth leaves you effortlessly now.
âWonder about what color your eyes are,â You decide to be the brave rebellion pilot you are.
âIf you and the baby are safe, eating well,â you add, and he chuckles breathily.
âI think about how brave you are and how⊠lucky I am to know you,â you continue feeling molten and sentimental now.
Din says your name again, this time tender, and it almost causes you to falter.
So you lean closer to his helmet.
âI think about how handsome you are⊠imagine your cock inside me.â You mutter and hearing the words aloud feels too much.
But then his strong hands dig into your thighs and slide you on his lap fully, dragging you across his clothed cock.
How strong he pulled you, the fast friction draws a whine from you.
âYeah?â He growls and leans his helmet directly against your face. The cool beskar touching your skin is heavenly.
âYeah.â You moan, and your hips begin their rhythm again.
This time itâs not just you moving. Din finally grinds up into you, and you see stars. Your underwear sticks to your sticky core, but you donât care.
Not when you and Din rut against each other and his hands chart a path all over you. One hand slides up to your neck, anchoring you close to him. The other moves to your back, sliding up to bunch your tank top in his grasp.
Itâs too hot now, and youâre wearing too many clothes.
So you weakly draw away from his hold to reach up and yank your top off.
Then you wiggle the last bit of the jump suit off, trying to let your hips and legs be free. But itâs hard.
Din even chuckles at your struggle, and you shoot him a look, annoyed. Patiently, he helps slide the material down until it pools down your legs.
Now youâre simply in your underwear, completely bare before him.
The sensation of his gloved hands running up your stomach, across your back, reverently taking in every inch of your bare soft skin, it melts you.
âBeautiful,â Din breathes in awe.
Then one of his gloved hands crawls up to knead your breast in his grasp, pinching your nipple. Your head falls back, and your hips return to seek relief. Grinding against him without the jumpsuit, the friction is so much stronger, a delicious undercurrent making you want more.
âDin,â You sob, feeling the pleasure build fast.
âWant you inside of me,â you whimper quickly getting drunk on him.
He cusses again sharp, dragging you harder against his clothed cock.
A loss comes when his hands leave your body, but wearily your eyes open once you feel him move to his pant buckle. Eagerly you join in to help.
His cock in your hand is warm. Heâs thick, delicious in size. Heâs already leaking, and possessed by something raw you lean down to lightly spit on his cock. Din groans so loud you think it rattles your bones.
Stroking his cock slow, you love feeling his mess mix with your spit.
He quickly hisses your name.
âInside now,â he urges, a desperate man. Clutching at your hips hard, he practically draws you up.
Who are you to deny your mandalorian?
He helps slide off your stick underwear, now fully bare.
Before you sink down on him, you lean closer to his helmet.
You donât have to say anything. You simply look at him, a final reassurance to see if he wants this the way you want him.
A gloved hand curls up to your face, cradling your sweaty face, stroking your cheek. His touch is fond, and it rocks you more than anything.
He nods firm, so sure.
So you sink down on him, guiding him into you. Both you and him moan and the world implodes in the most beautiful way.
When you were younger and around the veteran pilots, they used to share tales of how theyâd christen their ships. Back then, you couldnât imagine bringing anyone into this sacred space to do that.
Now you donât want Din to leave it.
A fervid raw desperation has you clinging to him, Din touches you so protectively, keeping you close. His hands clutch you firm, like heâs worried you could fly away from him at any moment.
Needing to be closer, you curl against his neck. You ache to kiss his skin. But the smell of gunpowder, of something beautifully musky, purely Din, floods your mind and makes your mouth water.
His pace grows sloppy, and you feel it coming too.
âWhere?â He slurs urgently.
âInside, got the implant,â you mutter half dazed, but when you feel his cock twitch inside you moan embarrassingly loud.
âInside Din please please please.â You now beg, wanting to feel him so badly.
âNot until you come first, wanna feel you.â Din demands growling back, and it pushes you over the edge.
Your climax knocks you into another realm. Youâre floating. Din follows you over not long after with the deepest groan.
His warmth fills you, even feel it leaking out, causing you to whimper so content.
Exhausted you flop against his chest loving the cool press of his armor against your bare skin. Then a part of you hisses to pull away. Until Dinâs helmet gently leans to rest against your head, and his gloved fingers tenderly stroke your back keeping you in place.
âSo⊠you ever done that before in here?â Din asks, partially joking but still curious.
You shake your head no.
âYouâre the only one.â You reveal.
His hand tracing across your skin suddenly stops. Then it fully draws across you to draw you closer to him in a soft like embrace.
An aching adoration for this man cements itself into you. Itâs now etched into your heart and now your ship. Maybe the two are the same.
After this night, you find him everywhere now.
Anytime he or you return back from a mission, one seeks the other out.
Din and Grogu now even rest in your quarters.
The lodging here is small, but itâs become your makeshift home. Grogu snuggles up warm among the blanket pile youâve made for him on the extra cot. And Din sleeps beside you in your bed.
You believed it was something sacred to know a mandalorian, but you realize itâs a true honor to find one seeking rest beside you.
Bathed in the moonlight leaking into your room, you and Din stare at each other lying side by side.
You wish he could relax more, maybe take off his armor.
But remaining helmeted, you understand his creed and donât want to push. Itâs just a small piece of you being selfish and wanting to see him.
âWhatâs wrong?â He notices your silence.
âI wish I could make this more comfortable for you.â Is the best way you can tell him.
He chuckles.
âDonât worry, Iâm fine.â
To even prove it he settles deeper among the pillows sliding closer to you.
âNicer than the cot that I have on Nevarro.â
You almost laugh. Heâs so endearing sometimes and doesnât even realize it.
But youâre reminded he does have a home.
âWhatâs your place like on Nevarro?â You ask about it.
âItâs good, simple.â Such a boring classic Din answer.
âMaybe⊠one day you can see it.â That addition he makes has your heart racing.
âYeah, Iâd like thatâ you nod, grateful for the offer.
Slowly your eyes close on their own now.
âBrown,â until suddenly he blurts out a random color.
Wearily opening your eyes blinking at him a bit confused.
âMy eyes⊠theyâre brown.â He reveals.
A soft grateful smile warms your face as you thank him.
You fall asleep beside him, wondering about his home, what it would be like to wake up and see his beautiful brown eyes.
But those daydreams get shoved away fast.
Missions begin piling up. The empire trash is getting sneakier, working faster in the shadows. It keeps everyone busy. You barely see Din. When you do the exchanges are brief, simple glances or even short catch ups.
Ward eyes you and Din suspicious but of course aware.
Approaching Din you try avoiding the colonelâs gaze as she leaves.
Thatâs when you spot the ship that flew in yesterday.
âYou wanted⊠this hunk of junk?â You dubiously stare at the razor crest. This is the beloved ship Din apparently had been searching high and low for.
âShe flies better than she looks.â Din defends.
Grogu excitedly waddles up the ramp eager to be inside the old ship.
You still eye the gunship worried about how good she can protect the cargo sheâll soon be carrying.
âMight not be a x-wing, but I trust this ship with my life.â Din senses your apprehension.
You give him a soft elbow nudge that barely makes his budge. But he playfully nudges you back, and a grin tugs at your lips.
âUgh,â Zeb groans with faux disgust seeing you and Din. You roll your eyes.
âYou know, I notice with all the markings⊠this ship looks like it could fit in with a gold squadron.â You tell Zeb nudging your chin towards the paint.
He barks a laugh.
âWouldnât that be a sight. This piece of junk flying with us?â Zeb muses.
âI donât knowâŠI think the crest would fight right in.â You shrug, fond.
âYeah? Think we could get Mando in a uniform?â Zeb adds and Din flat out shuts that down with a hard no.
It makes you and Zeb snicker.
Now you head in to examine the ship yourself and look around. The older metal, the antique design and layout, it really doesnât ease your apprehension, but you trust Din.
âYour beskar boy has shit taste picking a ship like this.â Zed snorts heading up to the cockpit.
âShut up.â You practically hiss at him.
But he leaves you and Din alone.
Itâs hard to navigate this strange space lingering between you and him, as if neither you or him know how to move.
So you decide to be brave. You grab his hand and squeeze it.
âBe safe,â you nod to the mandalorian.
He quietly nods back, gathering your hand in his. He squeezes back just as firm.
You head out of the razor crest and into the bright afternoon sun. From the cockpit window you spot your boys. Din nods a farewell, and Grogu spotting you waves down from the control panel. In his grasp is your silly little monster charm.
Not moving from your spot, you keep your eyes on the ship until it fades into the jump of hyperspeed.
You donât hear from Din for half a month.
Itâs nothing new. Youâre had months where missions kept you both busy. And from how displeased she was with the last mission, Ward apparently has him working on something fierce.
Then another week passes, and youâre sent on a protective mission to Chandrilla.
It takes your full attention. But the entire time your mind is on Din. Are he and Grogu safe? Is everything going okay?
âYou must be in love.â The Senator youâre escorting on the mission says suddenly. Embarrassment floods you fast.
âIâm sorry?â You ask slightly confused.
He smiles at you kindly.
âYouâve been sighing, seem distant. Like a heroine kept away from a lover.â
Shit.
âI apologize. I promised Iâm focused.â You reassure him, and the senator laughs.
âItâs fine, my dear,â he reassures, then leans in eagerly. âSo tell me about the lucky person.â
Now here you are telling this Senator about your awful admiration for the mandalorian.
âOh, a mandalorian.â He whispers in awe. âTheyâre a rare kind. He must be quite a sight.â
He is. But heâs more than that.
Heâs kind and unbelievingly sharp. Strikingly powerful, and unwaveringly supportive. Thereâs a compassion that walks hand in hand with Dinâs firm courage.
âOh you got it bad,â the Senator laughs.
Itâs unfortunately true.
How fast and quickly this mandalorian has disarmed you, but what else would you have expected from a warrior like him? Maybe you were doomed from the start to fight against feelings for such a fierce conqueror.
The thoughts of him keep you going through the mission.
Arriving at base camp, you instead find thereâs already commotion.
Din has returned, but heâs not alone.
Jabbaâs son, Rotta the Hutt, is with him.
At least Din and the baby are safe.
Standing off overlooking the beach, Din patiently watches Grogu play among the beach waves with the young Hutt.
âSo, looks like youâve been busy.â You say moving to his side.
âTell me about it.â He sighs.
The rundown he gives you is surface level, getting tied up among the Hutt twins while trying to search for the infamous Commander Coin.
âThings might get hairy soon. Iâm heading back to Nevarro to lie low for a while.â
His somber tone says more looms.
âDinâŠâ you mutter cautiously.
He turns to you.
âIf youâre in any dangerâŠknow that I want to help.â You urge, hoping heâll tell you more.
âI know.â He nods, yet says nothing more.
Please, your heart begs, please let me stay by your side and fight with you.
But you know fighting against this adamant man is a losing battle. So you sigh and reach down to your belt.
The charm you have on today is your favorite, and you hand it to him.
âRemember to bring it back to me.â You canât even look at him because your eyes suddenly feel like they could spill over a river of tears.
His gloved hand cradles your face, letting you fully look at him.
âWeâll be fine.â His voice soothes you steeled with resolution.
You nod, fighting harder against tears.
Then Din leans down. He presses his helmet against your forehead. You close your eyes and lean into the cool beskar.
With a goodbye hug to Grogu, you tell the sweet little soul to keep an eye on his dad.
This time, you donât have the strength to watch them leave.
You throw yourself into any available mission.
Ward must sense why youâre doing this and in a punishment of sorts, she instead sticks you on filing reports.
âMando will be fine,â Teva tries to reassure you.
You hope he will be. Days pass and you try to settle into a routine.
But then a group of Anzellans arrive in a panic. Youâd been working on your ship when they landed.
Currently they rapidly relay a message to Ward. She patiently tries to listen to all of their worried voices.
âWhatâs going on?â You ask Wolf.
âApparently Mando and the kid are stuck on Nal Hutta⊠donât think itâs looking good.â He mutters back somber.
Absolute dread is unleashed in you.
You donât realize youâre moving until youâre standing right before the colonel.
âLet me join the rescue strike.â You urge.
Ward turns to you, then sighs, even says your name a bit heartbroken. That says enough.
âAre we really considering not going?!â Your voice raises, shocked and upset.
âItâs not that simple.â Ward, calm and composed, tries to clarify, but just hearing that line feels like an alarm goes off in your head.
âWhat isnât simple?! Heâs one of us. We have to rescue them.â You argue back harder.
âThere are protocols. And with the intel and alliance weâve tried establishing with the Hutts we canât just strike in, ranger.â Ward sharply explains, putting you in your place.
Before Ward can even say anything, you turn on your heels and head out of the hanger zipping up your flight suit.
You donât care if this will get you in trouble, hell even dishonorably discharged. Din needs you. Grogu needs you.
Then you hear a few others arrive in the hangar.
Ward calls out your name. This is it.
Turning towards her, you ready yourself to accept whatever punishment. Yet, you instead see your commander in her flight suit as well. Your eyes canât help but widen.
She sighs yet gives you a half grin, understanding.
âI should sit you out on this mission.â
âI know. Iâve accepted that Iâll be doing reports for the rest of the year.â You sleepily shrug.
Her smirks grows bigger.
âTry two years,â she says heading to her ship.
Youâll happily accept that too.
The twinâs palace is heavily guarded, and itâs a true dogfight on Nal Hutta.
Then Dinâs voice electrifies the coms as he reports in with Colonel Ward. Absolute relief blooms in your chest, and you feel like crying. Heâs alive.
Now you fly harder and faster than you ever have. It reminds you of Endor. That final battle all you thought of was the hope right before your eyes, knowing something precious was so close and needed to be defended.
Thatâs what this feels like.
You manage to knock out a few droid ships, but the main focus is on the palace.
Yet Din remains inside.
And Ward gives the command to light the place up.
âGet out of there. Please.â You whisper out loud or maybe to the force itself.
Then, the stronghold goes under flames.
You and the others circle around, flying out of the line of fire from the explosion. Yet your stomach stays in knots.
âAnyone got eyes on Mando?â Wolf asks before you can.
Out from the smoke, there among the water below, you spot them. Your boys are alive.
A watery relieved laugh escapes you as you blink away the tears.
âGo pick up the trash, Zeb.â Ward jokes, and you canât even be mad.
Knowing theyâre safe is all that matters.
Vibrating with so much emotion, you land besides Zebâs ship hoping to see them.
But Ward of course arrives first.
You instead idle by your x-wing, pretending to be checking your engines. Ward tells him the truth about the Hutts that even you didnât know. So thatâs why she finally agreed to go.
âAnd⊠we donât leave our own behind.â Her words resound within you.
Din deflects, saying how heâs not with the New Republic.
âSure you arenât Mando, sure you arenât.â She says.
âIf you aren't one of us⊠Who do you think helped convince us to come?â
Wardâs insinuating tone shoots a shock up your spine.
You keep your gaze on your ship, refusing to even look their way. Focusing on mindlessly keeping busy, you donât notice footsteps approaching until you move out from under the wing. There Din stands waiting.
Heâs here.
Grogu cries gleefully, and your attention turns to him. You eagerly accept him into your arms hugging him tight.
âIâm so proud of you. You must have been so brave, my little ranger.â You even press a kiss to his fuzzy head, addressing him as the courageous officer he is.
The baby coos back fond, embracing you with his sweet but sturdy little arms.
While heâs still in your hold, your eyes open to find Din.
He stares unwavering at you, and your eyes water again.
âWelcome back,â you croak out.
Din nods, then, he raises up your favorite charm you gave him.
âHad to bring this back.â
With a watery laugh, you shake your head.
âYour dad is so silly,â you half whisper to Grogu who giggles, agreeing.
A sigh leaves Din but, in a few steps, he walks towards you.
Then you and Grogu are gathered into his embrace. You immediately wrap one of your arms around Din.
âThank you⊠for coming for us.â Dinâs voice is gentle, grateful.
âAlways.â You answer back with a resounding truth.
Your job is tied here, and you might fly for the sake of the New Republic. But you believe your true wings, your heartâs flight navigation, now will always include a path for and to Din Djarin.
Currently he chats with Rotta, from what you heard might be staying here too.
Once you head into the mess hall Ward calls your name. With a patient knowing grin, she holds out the datapad with the promise of the paperwork you knew would be waiting for you.
Logging in with your chain link, a new message suddenly chimes onto the monitor from an unknown contact.
It contains a coordinates location to Nevarro along with a single message attached.
Stop by whenever, weâll be waiting
Quickly, you start the reports happily accepting your punishment.
After all, there's a flight to Nevarro calling your name.
âContent warnings +tagsâ Ëââ§ re2/rookie!Leon, ooc leon probably (especially for re4 & re9), kisses !!, not proof read âčïž
Noteđà§ awweee rookie leon :) !!! i'm so sorry if this sucks i haven't written anything in ages, and barely made a dent in re2 before writing this :(
â bf!Leon Kennedy who is the sweetest boyfriend ever, and would do anything if it helped you in the slightest. If you needed a ride? He's already in his car. You're tired? He runs you a bubble bath and lays out your pyjamas, without a second thought.
â bf!Leon Kennedy who doesn't believe that money can buy love, but will still go out of his way to spend his very little rookie cop paycheck on a pretty necklace, because "pretty girls deserve pretty things."
â bf!Leon Kennedy who can't help but try to assist you with everything.
"Do you need help with that?"
"No thank you, Leon." You turned him down politely for at least the fifth time that evening.
"Okay," He padded past your kitchen island, dragging and pushing his heels into the hardwood floor.
"Leon," You hummed teasingly.
"Yes?" He tilted his head like a puppy.
"You're hovering," You paused to look your boyfriend âwho was far too helpful for his own goodâ in the eye. "again."
"Just trying to help," He muttered underneath his breath.
â bf!Leon Kennedy who adores kisses. He loves to press small pecks to your cheek and nose when you're lying in bed half asleep, and loves just as much when you do the same to him. Leon loves to kiss your hands after he does something gentlemanly, for the sole purpose of making you giggle and kiss him properly on his lips.
â bf!Leon Kennedy who is giddy to do anything with you. If you want to go on a date, he's over the moon, if you want to stay in for the night, he pampers you all evening without any complaintâĄ
arguing with Leon as to why sex while heâs infected is a Genius idea
đđ°. 456 words, smut (mdni), fem!reader x infected re4r!leon kennedy, swearing, agent!reader, leon likes being choked, "pretty baby", needy sex on the job?
âPlease, please, pleaseââ You clutched at Leonâs shirt, tugging it up to expose the dark lines splintering beneath the skin. Your mouth watered. His trembling hands came to your waist, holding on for dear life as you started to roll your hips while straddling his lap.Â
âFuckâdonât do that, please donât do this.â Despite his words, his fingers dug into you, holding you against him with no means of escape, and a moan slipped past his lips. You traced the inky tendrils of the infection with feather-light strokes of your fingers, his abs flexing beneath your touch. âWe donât have time and itâsâoh fuck youâre gonna be the death of meâwe donâtâitâs not safe.âÂ
You silenced him with a hungry kiss. Your tongue slipped into his mouth to greedily explore everywhere you could reach while a hand cupped his jaw, tilting his head into the perfect angle. Blonde strands stuck to his sweat-slick forehead and the sight of him was sinful.
âPlease Leon, I need you right now,â you whispered as you pulled back, a string of spit connecting you two splitting and falling onto his chin. You wiped at it with your thumb, smearing it across his pretty face. His eyes nearly rolled back.Â
âYeah,â he panted, âyeah, of course. Get these off.â He fumbled desperately at the belt and fastenings of equipment on your pants, you doing the same for him.Â
When your hand finally wrapped around his leaking cock and smeared a mix of your spit and his pre, he whined. With your pants off, he pushed your panties aside and swiped his thumb through your folds, feeling how utterly drenched you were for him. Your body shuddered.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorryââ he mumbled under his breath, guiding you to sink onto him.Â
The stinging stretch in the absence of prep melted into delicious pleasure with every inch you took in, slowly and barely controlled. His hands traveled from your hips, climbing up your torso as though he was drawing the Plaga onto you. His hips bucked up, fully burying himself inside and pulling a gasp from you.Â
âSorry pretty baby,â he murmured. You leaned down, pressing your forehead to his. You were so pretty with tears dotting your lashline and shiny, swollen lips. He couldn't get enough of you. He kissed along your jaw, nipping and licking at your skin. âSo, so good.âÂ
You squeezed him so mind-addlingly, your every sound going straight to his cock. Hazily, one of your hands climbed to his throat and held on with the slightest pressure. Leon twitched inside of you and sank his teeth into his lower lip, hardly muffling his groan.Â
âGive it to me, Leon. Infect me.â
đ§đšđđ. i am so sorry. this seems filthy and poorly-written to me but i'm not really a smut writer so maybe it's super normal and i'm just hyper-criticizing myself. alas
workplace romance âââââââ (re9) l. kennedy
summary . . . chief leon kennedy has a crush on the temporary receptionist of rpd. the receptionist in question is his wife, and he has made it everyoneâs problem.
notes. đ€ this just in⊠shikiyomizu writes another fic where leon kennedy is obsessed with his wife !! got this idea while i was driving to work today, also :( thank you guys we hit 400 followers the other day đ«¶ yâall are the best
tags ââââââââ fluff, re9 leon kennedy x wife!reader. au, no zombie break out. takes place in raccoon city. leonâs doing everything but working. word count: 1.2k words
The receptionist of RPD was six months pregnant with her first child. Getting closer to her due date, she put in her time off. Once she got to eight months, she would be gone to prepare herself and stay out on maternity leave. That gave the station at most a month to find a temporary receptionist.
Chief Kennedy quickly found a solution. After you heard he told you about their receptionist during dinner, you offered to fill in the position while she was away. You didnât work, the officers knew you since youâd come and visit Leon at the station on occasions.
The more experienced officers were more familiar with you and still remembered the day you both met.
Leon was late on his first day of work. Not a good look for an optimistic rookie. Then, he got thrown into traffic duty with Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, and had to write up a ticket to a girl they pulled over who was his type. He swore that someone didnât want him to succeed as a police officer.
Thatâs right, you were the first person Leon ever gave a ticket to. But it made for a cute story, and the outcome was a marriage of 24 years.
When he proposed the idea, everyone quickly agreed. No officer would have to fill the position, they wouldnât have to wait for an applicant, and they could trust you would get the job done correctly. Now what they didnât imagine happening is the Chief of police suddenly not knowing how to behave.
The first few weeks, Leon checked up on you to make sure everything was going smoothly while you were being trained. You adjusted rather quickly. Heâd stay by the desk, flirt with you for a couple minutes, and return to his office.
Then the following months, the visits became more frequent. Heâd start dropping by multiple times throughout the day, and stayed longer than he was supposed to. He loved having you working at the station. He could see you and talk to you any time he wanted.
And although it was sweet, it threw off the function of the second floor where the officers really needed him to be. They took matters into their own hands and limited him to one daily visit.
That ended up backfiring as soon as the rule was implemented. They saw him heading downstairs, and made a note he was taking his daily visit. So, they minded their business and went back to working.
Hours passed, someone was on the phone to speak with him. The officer tried to ring him, but he wasnât picking up. Unusual for him. She stood up from her desk and quickly rushed to his office, just to not see Leon there at all.
The man had the entire floor looking for him because the call was important. The bathroom, the library, the archive room, the weapons room. They were practically seething when they found him sitting behind the receptionist desk with you.
All he said was, âYou said one visit, not that I had to come back.â
They didnât blame you since you were actually getting your work done.
They were honestly debating whether or not they should enforce the whole no dating in the workplace rule again. But it didnât make sense considering you two were married and so were Captains Chris and Jill Redfield of S.T.A.R.S.
So they found the only other solution.
The following work week, Leon got banned from the first floor.
He took it to the heart. He watched you from the second floor like some Victorian yearner until he got sent back to his office by one of his lieutenants.
He tried to sneak past them on several occasions. Sometimes it worked. Other times?
âChief! Donât you go down those stairs!â
Leon huffed. He was so close this time. Heâd made it halfway down. He glared at the officer standing at the top of stairs. You were at the reception desk, going through mail the station received. He wanted to use the excuse that he was going to pick something up, but theyâd just say they would bring it to him. He reluctantly turned around and went right back up.
He passed the sign holder by the stairs made for him that said, âLunch is at 1PM. Shift ends at 6PM.â
It got bad enough that they assigned someone to keep an eye on him.
The new rookie that joined was so confused why they told him not to allow Chief Kennedy on the first floor under any circumstances besides lunchtime and when it was time to go. Plus, they didnât even go into detail as to why the Chief was banned from the first floor. They said it so ominously, as if the world would end if he made it down there.
Technically, it was an easy task. His office door was always shut, no matter what. If it ever opened, the loud creaking would alert the rookie and heâd tell his superior the first floor was off limits.
Today, Leon opened his office door cautiously. His officers were overwhelmed at their desks, especially the rookie who was stuck babysitting him. Paperwork was due at the end of the week. Everyone was trying to get it done so they wouldnât have to stay late on a Friday night.
Perfect. He slipped out unnoticed. He left the door at a crack. If he closed it now, it might catch their attention and he refused to lose this golden opportunity. He kept his body against the wall, heading in the direction of the stairs.
You were making copies of forms. While the printer did the task for you, you swiveled your chair to the computer again to check on an email. Just as you were doing that, there came your husband rushing down the stairs. Leon made it to the bottom step and walked across the lobby towards the reception desk.
Oh great. What was he planning now? Your hand hovered over the phone, ready to call one of the lieutenants. But you didnât since your husband wasnât staring directly at you, rather the staircase on your right. He dug his hand in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a slip of paper.
Leon carefully slid it across the counter, and continued walking without looking at you.
The paper was folded in half. You raised a brow. He was probably asking you to meet him in the filing room again. You grabbed the paper and opened it.
âWhat theâŠâ You muttered.
Do you like me?
Two options. One box said yes, and the other box said yes. You furrowed your brows.
You looked to your right. Leon was leaning against the stair railing. He drew a heart in the air with his pointer fingers and then winked at you. Your eyes followed as he went up to the second floor.
Reminder: File a complaint.
You clicked your pen. Underneath the two boxes, you drew a third one. Right beside it you wrote, âNoâ, and checked it.
âIs he here?â You glanced up. The rookie was out of air after running down a flight of stairs. Poor boy was carrying the fate of the world on his shoulders and he refused to let it end. That or he thought he might get fired for not keeping Chief Kennedy in check.
âHoney, donât worry. Heâs upstairs. Besides, the only place heâs getting in trouble is at home.â You said. That helped ease his worries a bit. You folded the slip of paper again and held it out to the rookie, âDo me a favor. Can you give this to him when you see him?â
sum: leon's cleaning his gun in the kitchen, and you can't help but be mesmerized by it and him.
tags/warnings: gun play (no gun in v, unloaded), leon's a tease, dry humping against requiem (and a little on leon's thigh), nipple play, brat taming (?), daddy kink, praise (a little bit), pwp
a/n: [anyone ever wanna fuck something that you physically cant? cause me too.] i zont wanna hear shieettt about this leon being ooc. go complain to someone who cares. anyways i've been writing this for a couple weeks now and finally finished it. i hope my real ones out there find this and enjoy it. mwah, love u freaks <3
wc: 4.4k
Requiem.
Leonâs custom revolver. Issued by the DSO.
A hefty thing, if one were to pick the weapon up without the aid of meticulously trained arms and hands. It might slip from anotherâs grasp if they werenât attuned to its magnitude.
Heâd designed parts of it himself, scaling every part to size in his sketchbook. The division was more than happy to put in the request.
From bullets specially made down to the millimeter, to the case it came in, the holster, even the grip fashioned with an eagle wing, requiem was the perfect heavy-duty revolver for Leon Kennedy.
Heâs sat at the kitchen table, a multitude of cleaning tools and parts scattered about. Steady hands of the aged man work to no end at polishing each part of the gun. By now there is no edge, surface, or curve of the smooth silver surface that has not been shined by Leonâs hands. A delicate process, undoing each mechanism perfectly so to be laid out for proper cleaning.
It is something similar to watching a potter craft with clay, observing his silent movements from across the room. Only soft sounds of his breathing are to be heard, that and the occasional clink of requiemâs hardened metal parts.
Heâs only in a t-shirt and sweats, but heâs never looked more domestic, even when the activity heâs taken up isnât anything like the others you do at home. Loving Leon has brought many a strange thing washing up onto your shore.
Many a night without him, weeks away from you at a time, only to come home and crash in your arms were nothing compared to the image of him under a single lamp light, hyper-focused on detailing the weapon in soft clothes. As if he should be doing something more⊠homely like laundry or the dishes in an outfit like that. Threads weaved within hems stretch around his biceps and fall loosely by his waist, same for the cotton that rounds his thighs and flutters down his calves by the catching air of an open window. As large as they areâand half covered by sleevesâthey flex every so often, veins bulging along with soft movement.
Though heâs wary to leave smudges on the sleek metal, somehow his fingertips leave it void with every swipe of the cloth. Heâs intricate with each piece, detailing until thereâs no stain left, then carefully placing it back in its place for reassembly.
You havenât seen him use it, since the policy that came with the sleek weapon only permits its use on those tough-as-nail missions. Though that doesnât stop Leon from making sure requiem is in pristine shape as if it were fresh off the production line. Requiem is merely one of other firearms he keeps on the premises- since Raccoon City, he can never have too many.
Heâs had you learn as well, for your own safety, and for his peace of mind when heâs thousands of miles away or on a different continent entirely. Shooting range, strength training at the gym- heâs toughened you up for whatever may occur. Youâve learned everything you know about guns from Leon: how to hold it properly, shoot well, keeping your breath steady, the whole nine yards. It was easy when you had a good teacher, and yet you couldnât stop yourself from watching his biceps flex and the veins bulge when heâs practicing.
Leon is painfully beautiful, and itâs distracted you on more than one occasion.
Heâd said, âPay attention,â right before, attempting with all your might to do so, but that was proving easier said than done. When heâs wearing a regular t-shirt and soft pants and youâre imagining this is how he looks like in the field, up against the most grotesque bioweapons known to man.
Zoning out on how his gloved hands wrap around the gunâs grip, only blinking back into consciousness after heâd emptied the magazine. It didnât take a genius, he knew youâd been distracted, so when he handed you the gun and asked you to show him what heâd just done, you folded in less than a minute.
Leon was always more than happy to help you out, adjusting your grip and getting close behind you to make sure your shoulders were in the right spot. Soft hands relaxed your form while simultaneously setting you on fire.
From then to now, you never grew tired of watching him and his guns.
Leon habitually details requiem after a mission, sat at the kitchen table until itâs shining. This time was no different, the last couple hours of evening time used to give the weapon a proper cleaning. Heâs so focused in on the task, and yet heâs able to pick up the sound of you coming down the stairs.
Youâve stopped right at the edge of the room, watching him for much too long. Those strands of dark hair, his focused eyes, furrowed brows⊠he looks so pretty⊠while heâs cleaning his most lethal weapon.
Some part of you wishes you worked with him just to see Leon use the gun. It probably has one hell of a kickback for anyone else besides him. The gun looks intimating just by itself, but in use, it goes without question that one shot could kill you instantly.
Not unlike any other gun in the world, but this one was special.
You should be more startled by the thing, knowing Leonâs skills with it. Heâs told you not to be afraid, and your familiarity with one has definitely made that concern less. Still⊠itâs deadly. Especially in the hands of the one it had been made for.
A flit of your tongue over your lips as he starts clicking the pieces back into place, then a step closer to watch his hands move methodically.
The floor creaks.
He doesnât look up, instead speaking into the dimly lit room.
âCome sit by me, you must be tired of standing over there watching.â
A smile fights its way onto your lips when you step into the room. The moment youâre in the light is when his eyes shoot up from the gun, still clicking pieces back together.
Leonâs blues are colored like the daytime sky- soft and pretty, yet they possess such power to fill a single glance with a rush of adrenaline.
One corner of his mouth pulls upwards when you finally let that smile break out around him, taking one of the chairs out to sit down next to him.
âDidnât wanna disturb you while you were cleaning your gun. You seemed so focused and I didnât want to break that.â
His eyebrows lift, light in his eyes twinkling as it catches in their reflection.
âYou could never disturb me, baby.â
You know this, and still the desire to let him have alone time without you is what makes your relationship work.
âI knowâŠâ you trail off, watching him go back to fitting all the pieces of his revolver together. His hands, rugged as they come, seem to know the weapon inside and out, similarly to how they know you.
Grip in one hand like the weapon weighs nothing, Leon continues to rebuild the gun with each part.
Curiosity strikes, and thereâs ideas swimming in your head before you can even think about one thing.
âIs um⊠is your gun heavy? It looks heavy.â
âYeah, itâs got a good weight to it. But itâs not heavy when I hold it.â
Of course itâs not heavy for him⊠with those arms? It must be a piece of cake.
âRight, on account of it being custom made?â
âUh huh.â
A gun that large should be intimidating to even see in person. Even if heâs never used it with you around, you should be scared of what it can do. Itâs not a surprise most things that should frighten you arenât as daunting when Leon is present.
Just like how exhilaration fills your lungs when you look at the long barrel of the gun, how its bullets are specially made- how it all is- for his use. Its ridges and width are all you can focus on as Leonâs hands move over them, clicking into place with the rest of the pieces. Its look in his hand, like it weighs nothing at all⊠and on top of all that, how dangerous it must be. Why else would the DSO make him a custom weapon other than to be more efficient at killing things?
âItâs pretty.â
âWhat is?â
âYour gun⊠I mean, it suits you. You⊠look good with it.â
Shy he might judge you, you look away and fidget with your hands instead.
âDo I?â
âMhmâŠâ you mutter under your breath.
âWell, Iâd hope so.â he replies, chuckling a bit.
âYou probably look super hot in the field with it. Too bad I could never see that.â
âDo you even know how dangerous it is?â
âItâs a gun, of course I do, Leon.â
âNo,â he halts his movement, and you can hear when he does, âYou donât. Not with this one.â
Your mind is playing back all the weapons training heâs given you, instructing how to not be afraid of it when you were starting out.
âWhat?â
âLook at me.â
Turning to meet his gaze feels as if it takes ten thousand years at the level of timidness you omit.
âHold out your hands.â
âWhat?â you ask again, confused this time.
âJust do it.â
âBut, you just cleaned it.â
âI can wipe it down.â
His voice is stern, so you donât prod further before holding your hands out. As expected, he places the revolver in your palms, cold metal a stark difference to the warmth your body possesses.
Promptly after, your arms falter a bit with its weight. A type of weapon that would give anyone an arm ache if they werenât muscled like Leon.
âItâs heavier than I thought.â
âUh huh, more dangerous too.â
âLeonâŠâ
âIâm serious. Itâs not a toy. Touch it. Feel how real it is.â
Upon his command, your fingertips run over the polished titanium barrel, wondering how frequently he uses it on missions. How it probably gets covered in blood with no effort at all. Its warmth after a shot rings out. The gunpowderâs smoke trail.
God, itâs the perfect weapon for him.
Once again, you should be more frightened.
You should be.
But you arenât.
Your thumb runs over the indentations along the bottom delicately as if it were an art piece.
âI know itâs not a toy, Leon⊠Iâm just not scared. Especially when youâre holding it.â
He sighs, looking towards you with softer eyes.
âYouâve never seen me in the field with it, so you wouldnât know.â
âKnow what?â
âThe number of things Iâve killed with it⊠Iâve lost count.â
The image comes to you instantly of him in one of his jackets, paired with the same navy blue compression tops, pointing the gun at some deformed lab experiment and lining up its head in the crosshairs right before he pulls the trigger. How adrenaline courses through his veins and the strength of his muscles braking any recoil it gives.
âWish I couldâve seen how you looked while doing so.â you mutter under your breath, placing it back on the table in front of him.
âOh yeah?â
Leon raises his eyebrows in surprise, picking it up for your viewing pleasure. Heâd never deny his girl a show⊠without being a tease first.
âMhm⊠you probably looked really good.â
âYou sure? Cause I can get covered in blood really fast out in the field and, well, I donât know if youâd want to see that.â
Heâs playfully examining the gun while you watch, satisfied with your full attention on him.
Such a burden, beauty.
Popping out the empty cylinder, he spins it with his thumb and closes it back up. He knows youâre staring at his hands⊠or maybe youâre staring at the gun?
Seeing requiem in his hands made your heart race a bit faster. Itâs easier to imagine how effortlessly he can work the gun on his missions, looking as if it weighs the same as his other pistols. But you know it doesnât.
He shifts the whole chair towards you, so heâs facing you from the front, thighs spread how they always are when heâs comfortably sitting. Shifting the gun to one hand, he points it towards the ceiling like he does on missions and looks towards you.
âWhat, got nothing to say now?â
âIâm just observingâŠâ
âWhy donât you observe a little closer then?â
He pats his thigh, inviting you into his lap with bright eyes and an eager stare, bicep bulging as he holds the gun upright.
An anticipation dripping with need grew under your skin, rounding your eyes and pupils with hunger.
Lifted from the chair before you can even think, your stride brings you to Leon swiftly.
Swinging your legs over his, the scent of his musk surrounds you immediately. His warm thighs are a welcome seat, free hand going to your waist as soon as youâre fully in his lap.
âThere. Thatâs better, isnât it?â
âMhm.â
Leonâs features up close have your heart beating faster by the time you realize his eyes are on you, and that theyâve been on you this whole time.
âYou wanted to examine my gun, hm?â
When he moves it in front of you, he cups the barrel in his other hand and presents it to you for your observing pleasure.
âThis is what you wanted isnât it?â Leon begins.
âHm?â
âTo observe?â
âCould see just fine beforeâŠâ
A failed attempt at concealing how flustered you had become from Leon patting his lap a moment ago.
âAre you suggesting you arenât enjoying my lap?â
âNo! N-no, not at all.â
âThatâs what I thought.â
âLeonâŠâ
âShh. You wanted to know how I look with it in the field, Right?â
You nod wordlessly.
âThen be a good girl and observe.â
His words disarm you, and suddenly youâre looking towards him with the willingness to obey his every word. Iced irises study your expression, how yours become rounded and focused on him as he is you.
A smirk pulls at one corner of his mouth again, watching your eyes trail down to the gun in his hands.
âThereâs no other gun like this in the world. Iâm the only one whoâs got such a⊠beautiful weapon.â
You swallow thickly, back of your throat running dry from the way he speaks.
âLook at her⊠sheâs gorgeous, isnât she?â
Leon shows off the gun in one of his hands, turning it from side to side as it shines in the light.
âMhmâŠâ
He chuckles, âDonât worry, baby. Youâd never come in second place.â
His eyes drift between you and the gun, noticing how youâre not staring at him with the gun, youâre staring at the gun in his hand.
Time to test a theory.
âYou havenât spoken more than a single full sentence since you sat down, you sure youâre okay, baby?â he taunts.
âIâm just enjoying the viewâŠâ
âYouâre brushing the question off, honey. Why donât you tell me what youâre thinkinâ, hm?â
He brings the gun down in front of you, so your eyes focus back on him.
âTold you.â
âNo, no⊠I donât accept that answer.â
âLeon.â you whine.
âWhatâs so difficult, huh? You like seeing me with the gun? Maybe I should clean it more often so you can watch.â
One of your hands moves towards the barrel, wrapping your hand around it slowly.â
ââS cold.â you speak again, barely above a whisper.
âUh huh.â
âItâs not loaded, is it?â
Leon shakes his head, but you knew that already. He watches as you swallow again, exhaling a breathâŠand thus his theory confirmed.
Still in his grip, you lift the barrel up to your face for a closer look, then press a kiss to its muzzle.
Fuck, that made his cock throb.
Leonâs never been turned on by guns before, but seeing you like this not only proved him right about you, but itâs doing something disgusting to him that lights him up like a live wire.
Fingertips glide down the length of the gunâs barrel, and he swears he can feel it on his cock. Those teasing touches of yours, feather light that always force him to thrust upward for more friction than youâre giving him.
ââS pretty⊠âs so prettyâŠâ you mutter.
This is doing him in way more than heâs thought possible.
âOh yeah?â
His depraved thoughts take over as he moves it closer to your face, your hand still wrapped around it. A small gasp leaves your lips as he presses the cool metal into your skin, dragging it slowly down your neck. Thereâs no danger of the gun going off, and yet itâs exhilirating with his firm hand under yours.
âThat mind of yours is so dirty it couldnât let you tell you how much you love my gun, huh?â
âMhmmâŠâ
Trailing down your neck, he runs it along the hem of your shirt, noting how your breath hitches when you inhale.
âHow âbout you take that shirt off, and we can really see how much you love this gun.â
Leon already knows you do, the way you ogle at it in his hands says enough. It also goes to show with the hardness of your nipples peeking through your shirt. Grazing the muzzle over the hardened peaks of your chest makes you whine, pressing your lips together.
âCâmon gorgeous.â
Leonâs gruff voice makes your lips part when you exhale, hands going to the hem of your shirt to pull it upwards.
Your tits bounce prettily when they fall from your shirt, a sight his eyes focus on immediately upon your movement.
âThere they are. Pretty girls.â
Your shirt gets tossed to the side and Leonâs eyes burn hot against your skin. He doesnât touch you, at least not with his hands. Instead he places his free hand on your waist and moves you to one of his thighs, flexing it as soon as your weight is rested there. Your breath hitches when he does so, having to steady yourself from slipping off.
His next move is sliding the cold metal tip of his gun down your neck and through the valley of your breasts, chuckling when he notes the shiver that leaves your lips.
"You're way too turned on because of this." he taunts, swiping the muzzle under the soft flesh before bringing it up over one of your nipples. He takes great pride in the way you seem to keen even more for his touch, when it isn't even him that's touching you.
"Seriously... are you that needy?"
"C-can't I just like your gun?" you almost whisper from the fact that you're frozen in place by all this.
"Hm, no... not without me doing something about it."
"Fuck..."
Leon trails it over your areola and the rest of your soft skin there, blues of his eyes tentatively watching the unforgiving responses your body gives him. It's such entertainment for him.
A moment later he's dragging the barrel down your stomach, cool titanium causing more goosebumps to arise over the expanses of your skin. Your head falls forward to watch, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval.
"Ah ah," he begins, "Eyes on me."
"Leon... please..." you whine, and his eyebrows raise, chuckling to himself. He says nothing further, lucky you weren't wearing any shorts under that t-shirt of yours just to see your panties.
Just the cold metal of the gun brings you much more pleasure than you thought was possible, and you clench around nothing as you exhale another shaky breath. Your hips rut forward in the slightest, pulling another smirk from the older man underneath you.
"Couldn't just tell me you found my gun hot, baby. I would've understood." Leon's using that taunting teasing voice he always has on when he wants to push your buttons about something.
"Didn't think you'd know... what I meant... but- oh..."
You're cut off in surprise at the press of the muzzle into your lower stomach, right above the hem of your panties. All you're thinking about is the sound of the gun going off, how loud it's got to be and the imminent danger you'd be in if he'd actually loaded the cylinder.
The risk of life and death in that very moment only seems to exhilarate you even more.
Leon teases you once more when he almost slips the tip of the gun under the waistband of your underwear, but lets it go before it even touches that area of your skin.
"Oh, I knew. From the second I saw you eyeing my gun."
The vibration of his voice spins in your mind, making your clit throb. Another rut of your hips upward to meet some sort of satisfying friction he was so thoroughly denying you of without his touch.
"Bet you'd fuck this gun if it would fit inside you, huh?"
"Mhmmmh..."
You're whimpering again, little short breaths leaving you as your hips move again, attempting to pick up the pace.
"Oh, that's a yes. Too bad you can't though..."
You try to speed up, but Leon's got you right where he wants you, and there's no escape now. His hand on your waist steadies you, flexing his thigh again and driving you insane.
"Stop movin' your hips, doll. Gotta- fuck."
Before he knew what was happening, your hand reached down to grip at his crotch, very proud of getting him hard over all this.
"Brat. Don't you listen?"
"Mmm... sometimes."
"Better. Or else."
Leon is quick to pull your hand off his growing bulge and interlink your fingers.
"Hmph..."
His eyes rake down your body, right down to the wet spot making itself very noticeable on your panties.
"You're all worked up..." He says, dragging the tip of the gun down the front of your panties and not stopping until it's placed right over that spot.
Not only is it growing cold, but even colder now with the gun pressing into it.
"Oh-"
"Yeah? Like that?"
"Mhm... yes, daddy."
He was wondering when that name would slip from your lips. You seemed so turned on already the moment he got you in his lap, but hearing it now just made his cock throb again. You hesitate grinding your hips upward again, but knowing Leon, he'd have a firm punishment in his mind just for disobeying him again.
"Bein' such a good girl for me."
"Always a good girl for you, daddy. My handsome daddy... Look so good with your gun."
"You look pretty with it like this, baby."
He swallows thickly, adam's apple bobbing when he does so.
"Wanna feel you, daddy. Inside..."
"Oh yeah?"
"Please..." you whine again.
"Gonna soak my thigh first, huh? Bet a needy girl like you could get off just from rubbing yourself against it."
Your eyebrows furrow, needy indeed when all you want is for him to take his cock out and shove it inside you.
"What's that look for? You were so eager about it before. Do it for me, gorgeous. For daddy?"
You nod, never wanting to disappoint him. Especially when he calls himself that name. Your pussy burns with want at the smug expression that plants itself on his face.
"Say it."
"Yes, daddy."
"Good girl. Now show me."
Your hips start slowly, the friction of his sweatpants enough to get you going as you realize the wet spot that's leaked through the cotton of your panties is making the gun's metal even colder. Leon holds the revolver steady against you, making sure it doesn't go anywhere.
The curved corners do wonders for bringing just the right amount of friction against your clit when it bumps up against it. Eyes fluttering closed, your arms wrap around Leon's shoulders and neck, holding on for dear life while your hips rut against the gun.
His free hand goes up to your boobs that bounce lightly with every time you thrust yourself forward, pinching one of your nipples with his fingers. He leans down to kiss your neck with the other, making his way down to the soft flesh of the other that's not being tweaked with his hand.
Leon's tongue rolls out, flitting against your other hard nipple and biting it lightly. That gains him one of the prettiest moans he's heard from you as your hips pick up the pace steadily.
"That's my girl. Keep going. Tell me when you're close."
His stubble scratches against your soft skin when he leans over to lick the one in his hand, making sure to give both attention so you're overflowing with pleasure all from him.
"Leon..."
Doing all this has only made your pussy wetter, and thus the spot on your panties bigger. It's all his fault, but you've gotten yourself into this mess, so you can't place the blame solely on him.
A jolt of pleasure courses through you when you find the perfect angle and your grinding becomes so messy and depraved within a second because of it. The cold metal, Leon's mouth on you, how his thigh muscles flex every so often just to make you moan... it was all too much and not enough.
"Fuck, daddy..."
Leon's lips are swollen and pink when he pulls off your tits eventually, blue eyes glazed over and filled with pleasure.
"Just like that..."
Leon's gaze falls to your panties, huffing a breath of enjoyment when he spots how messy his girl's made herself.
"So perfect like this... all messy, all mine."
"Sh-shit, I'm gettin' close..." you gasped out.
He presses his lips against your neck, stubble scratching as well but it only amplified everything else happening.
"Gonna cum for daddy?"
"Yes... yes, daddy... gonna cum for you.."
You were practically vibrating above him, and Leon looking up at you with his pupils blown wide and dark only made it worse.
You're completely done for when your eyes glance at him for a moment just to see his lips parted, breathing heavily as if he's the one about to cum.
The orgasm ricochets through your entire body, your hips stuttering against the cold metal of the gun and hitting your throbbing clit in the best way possible. He bounces his leg, drawing your orgasm out for longer if he could help it, and you whine, moaning his name.
"Atta girl... did so good, baby."
Your voice feels weak when you try to speak again, lifting your head with a dazed look in your eye.
"Gonna fuck me now, daddy?"
Leon drinks the sight of you in, placing the gun behind you on the table.
Leon kennedy, who gets off to the idea of being your husband.
Cw: smut mdni, fem reader, cowgirl, Leon has a praise kink and a husband (?) kink if that's a thing, also a breeding kink, whipped Leon, unprotected sex, creampie, Leon is a tit man, can be any version of him, but I imagined vendetta Leon when writing
He isn't sure why it gets him so worked up, nothing in your relationship had changed, the only difference is you were now husband and wife instead of boyfriend and girlfriend.
It could be a day after your wedding or 50 years, but if you look at him, call him your husband, his shoulders relax, and his eyes soften as he mumbles out a "yeah?"
But the place it really gets him is the bedroom.
-
The sound of skin on skin and your moans fill the room as you ride Leon.
Leon's slumped against the headboard, his hands on your hips helping guide you, as he sucks and bites your at your tits.
"Fuck, Leon," you whine, your pace not stopping, "it's too much."
"Yeah?" Leon grunts, "your pretty little cunt tells me otherwise, nice and tight for your husband."
You let out a gasp as you feel Leon's hand smack your ass, "My beautiful wife." He groans, his mouth going back to your tits.
"God I'm going to cum," you groan, head dropping to his shoulder.
"Are you?" Leon says, his hand going down to your clit, his lips moving from your tits to your lips as he slowly begins to kiss you.
"Mhm," you moan against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him.
"Want me to come inside?"
"Yes, please fill me up!" Your back arching, as your climax approaches.
"You want your husband to fill you up? Breed this pretty little pussy?" Leon grunts, his own climax approaching as he rubs you clit faster
"Yes! Please, leon!" You whine, your hips moving faster as you chase your climax.
"Fuck." Leon groans as he feels you cum, your walls fluttering around him, his own climax following, spilling into you.
"Gorgeous," Leon mumbles, pulling out and helping you lay down on the bed. Leon looks down at your pussy his cum seeping out of you.
He slowly pushes it back into your seeping hole, "gotta keep it in, hun."
"Think you got another round in you?" Leon looks back to you his pupils dilated and cock already starting to harden, "Need to make sure it takes."
-
I was going to go through a few different positions where he continued to call himself your husband during sex but this is all I could manage for now đ This is my second written smut so sorry if it's not good
This is based on one of my headcannons from this post
thereâs something so wildly perverted inside the blues of older.á leon kennedyâs eyes when you part your lips just barely and almost immediately as his fingers urge to shove themselves inside your pretty mouth. it feels like your very own little oral fixation; the way you so terribly crave to have every corner of your mouth stuffed and explored, throat fucked by his big hand.
you always find a way to suck on something â always chasing the comfort and staring into his eyes, puckered lips, glossy and wet around leonâs fingertips. somethingâs always missing. your hazy mind completely shuts down when he buries his cock inside your stretchy walls, your tongue wrapped and circling in selfishly slow circles, as if youâre licking on a sweet lollipop.
thereâs something even more disgusting and so downright perverse possessing leon when you take him by surprise. you lift your hand up and press your index finger gingerly and hesitantly down his lower lip. youâve never done this before. youâve never even asked leon about it.
but here you are, two fingers soaked in leonâs spit â because youâve been inside his mouth and he didnât hesitate to let you in; his raging boner grows visibility harder when your fingers leave his mouth with a quick pop. and right when you tease him, playing with your puffy clit and shoving them up inside your cunt, teeth sinking softly down your lip. his cock twitches uncomfortably. you know this innocent turned into a needy tease turns him on.
you carelessly spread your legs wide open at the edge of his king sized bed, panties down your ankle, tits pulled out of your tank top. leonâs back stays pressed against the bedroom white wall, muscles hugged by his black t-shirt and veiny arms pressed against his sturdy chest. he watches you finger fuck yourself and push his spit up your walls to lubricateâ the wetness of your cunt splashes down your legs and soaks your inner thighs. heâs tense and youâre worse.
you shake in pleasure and stare right into his eyes and you see it from the way his brows furrow and right fist clenches glued to his thigh. his other, oh, you keep masturbating and dreaming about the length of his thick fingers filling up every inch of you, taking care of your aching burn.
âwanna taste me, leon?â
he gets down on one knee, right at the edge of the bed. he wraps his hand around your forearm, pulling your fingers closer to his hungry mouth and licking them clean.
âthought youâd never ask,â leon coos and he gets up, positioning himself between your legs, stuffing his thumb, then two more fingers inside your mouth, âsuck on âem, sweet girl.â
and you listen, hypnotized by leonâs words, in something nearing a trance-like state.
âmust feel really good, huh?â
ivyâs note: ok LISTEN. i have a very similar idea about leon getting down on his knees to eat your pussy and i wanna keep the rest for that fic tee hee hee đââïž THIS IS FOR THE GIRLS WHO LOVE FINGER SUCKING !!!!!!! mwuah <3
đ thinking about waking up next to re9!Leon whoâs a little needy á°.á 18+ itâs gets a little slutty at the end my bad
The bedroom is cool, quiet, save for your soft breaths and the faint chittering of birds outsideâ itâs peaceful, and Leon, being the first to wake as always, lies there to simply bask in it. Heâs pressed right up behind you, one arm tucked under your pillow and the other draped around your waist, his hand tucked under your sleep-shirt because this man lives for skin-on-skin contact.
Heâs so in-tune with your body, he could feel you start to wake even before those eyes of yours begin to flutter open, and he takes that as an invitation to snuggle in closer, pressing a smiley-kiss to your shoulder as you begin to stir.
âThere she is⊠sleeping beauty,â He hums affectionately from behind you, his voice all rough with sleep, chest rumbling against your back, dragging you to the land of the living.
âMfm⊠sâtoo early,â your sleepy murmur gets a chuckle from him, the sound muffled into your skin.
âItâs almost twelve pm, baby.â
You whine in disagreement, âBut itâs a Sunday and weâve got nothing to do.â
He shushes you, hand slides from under your shirt to caress the curve of your hip soothingly as his mouth moves across your shoulder carefully in feather-light pecks.
âMânot saying you gotta get up yet, baby. Come on, turn around, let me see you.â
A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you shuffle, turning around to look up at himâ all sleep soft and warm, the early-afternoon sun catching in your eyes. He reaches his hand out, his fingertips grazing across your face, pushing your tussled hair back so he can get a good, long look at you, and he smiles, rare and private, only for your eyes.
âMorning, gorgeous,â he whispers quietly, leaning in to brush a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
You hum, curling your arms around his broad shoulders to keep him close as he peppers open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw, his nose bumping against your cheek. âGood morning, handsome,â you reply lazily, his stubble tickling your soft skin, purposely rubbing the rough hairs against the side of your face just to hear you laugh.
âThought you were gonna go to the gym today?â you ask almost teasingly, slipping your fingers through his hair.
He groans into your neck at the reminder, his body melting in your arms, seeking your warmth out like a sunbathing cat, âThat was the plan, yeah⊠then I woke up, and you were all soft and warm, clinging to me ndâI couldnât leave you like that.â
Itâs almost the exact same excuse he had used yesterday, but you werenât going to complain, not when heâs all over you and pinning you against the soft mattress, bare-chested and spoiling you with kisses.
âUnless you want me to leave, hmm?â scared Iâll let myself go, baby?â He chuckles, running his knuckles along your cheek as your hands run down his chest, fingers catching the coarse hairs that pepper his skin.
âYouâre ridiculous. Obviously, I want you here.â You murmur, tilting your head to kiss him properly, deeply, his lips slotting against yours perfectly.
âOh, obviously, is it? â he echoes smugly, grinning against your mouth as he pushes your shirt up to your collarbones, âThis is better than lifting weights anyway,â he murmurs, kissing down your neck and over the swell of your breastsâ your breath catching at the feeling.
âWell, thatâs not much of a competition.â
Your fingers run through his hair and he makes a low gravelly noise, leaning into your hands. âYouâre right, itâs not even closeâ god youâre so fucking warm.â He sighs, looking up at you through his lashes with a faint grin, blue eyes glintingâhe was definitely scheming.
âGonna let me love on you a little before we get up, yeah?â He smiles against your sternum, his voice all tender yet rough with want because god you look and feel amazing like this. âMake you come on my tongue first, then fuck you, nice and slowâ make breakfast after?â
âMm, Jesus⊠LeonâŠâ his name falls from your lips, broken and whiny, desperate, and he coos in response, a hushed âI know babyâ before capturing your nipple into his wet mouthâ his tongue flicking over the hardened peak as his hand cups your other boob.
He shifts against you, slotting himself snug between your legs. You wrap your thighs around him, a whimper catching in your throat when he grinds his hard-on against your clothed pussy, arching into him for more, wetness already collecting in your panties.
âIâll handle it⊠you just relax fâme, baby.â He promises, kissing his way down your tummy whilst his fingers pinch at your nipplesâ his free hand tugging your panties down.
Lazy Sundays were the closest thing to heaven.
àȘâ⎠Resident Evil Masterlist àȘâ⎠General Masterlist
Imagine having drunk sloppy sex with Vendetta! Leon. You wouldn't be sure if he's slurring his words because of the alcohol or to him being pussy drunk.
warnings: Leon is drunk so??? is that considered non-con even if he consented it? riding, not proofread.
There was something intoxicating about riding Leon. Maybe it was because he carried himself like nothing ever fazed him, or the fact he always seemed too composed to let anyone see beneath the surface. But in the dark of your room, when the city sleeps beyond the windows and moonlight spills softly through the curtains, he always unravels beneath your touch. Itâs you who makes the emotionally constipated man come undone.
The way you ride him makes his heels dig deeper into the mattress. Each roll of your hips drives him a little closer to the edge. Your movements are unhurried and slow; you drag your hips in a way it feels like time can bend itself just for the two of you.
Leonâs dark locks are damp from the sweat of your lovemaking, sticking to his forehead as his breath turns ragged, each breath catching unevenly in his chest. His hands wrap around your waist like heâs holding on for dear life, fingers pressing hard enough to leave crescent shaped bruises by morning, but you canât find it in yourself to care. Not when Leon is unraveling beneath you so beautifully.Â
The tremor running through him is impossible to miss now, the sharp little shudders that ripple through his body no matter how hard he tries to suppress them. His jaw is clenched, breathing ragged, every ounce of that careful composure cracking apart piece by piece in your hands. And maybe thatâs what makes your chest ache so fiercely; the fact that the man who always seemed untouchable is trembling because of you.
It was driving him crazy, how deep you were taking him, how the warmth of pussy hugged his cock. Pussy so good he couldnât think straight.Â
Every single time your hips rose just to sink slowly over and over again, the lewd sounds coming from where you met his hips, how your juices were dripping down your thighs making a mess of the sheets. It was messing with his head.Â
The alcohol had long since settled warm beneath his skin, leaving him dazed in a way youâd never seen before. Every flicker of pleasure found its way into his expression before he could hide it.Â
âDoinâ okay, baby?â You whisper almost hissing from how good his cock felt inside you, barely holding back a moan as you sink into his twitching cock again, and again while touching your boops, lightly playing with your nipples.
His unfocused blue eyes were glassy when they met yours, and his lips parted as though he couldnât quite remember how to breathe properly anymore. Leon never knew he could be in so much pain being inside you that it felt like pleasure, the blood rushing to cock and the pressure of your walls felt like heaven and hell all together.
âDonât,â Words slurred from the alcohol âDonât stop. Please. Fuck youâre so hot.âÂ
You canât help but clench around him when he begs like that, and you know he feels it by the way he moaned quietly, his hips unconsciously snapping up to meet yours in a sloppy way.Â
The pressure in your low abdomen tightens and you know you're close, your hips move involuntarily chasing more of the feeling, wanting to be even closer to him as possible. You feel his clumsy thumb lightly press on your clit, doing quick circles with it to help you reach your peak. The feeling was overwhelming, and you let out a strangled whine.
In the haziness of the moment, you barely notice the mess on your thighs or how Leonâs head is tipping back onto the headboard, too dizzy to do anything else.
You let yourself collapse against his chest, your ear finding the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat as though it belonged there. Leon can do little more than pull you closer, still inside you afraid of ending the intimate moment. His arms tighten around you with something almost desperate.Â
Soft, slurred murmurs fall from his lips, quiet thank yous and sweet nothings.Â
Leon had never believed in saints or salvation, but he thought he could spend a lifetime on his knees thanking whatever merciful god had looked upon a man as damned as him and still chosen to place you in his arms.
"Easy there," Leon said, his voice warm with amusement as he guided you through the front door. His hand was on your lower back, steadying you when you stumbled over the front step. Your vision tilted, spinning In a kaleidoscope of colors as you blindly reached out to Leon's arm to keep upright, except you missed and got a handful of his chest instead.
"Oops," you giggled, not removing your hand. Your fingers squeezing experimentally.
"Honk Honk," you said, giggling to yourself.
Leonâs eye widened and he scoffed in disbelief.
"I think they're bigger than mine," you announced, still groping his pecs like you were testing the ripeness of fruit at the grocery store.
"They are not," he said fighting back laughter. You kept your hands exactly where they were, looking up at him with exaggerated innocence. He raised one eyebrow; his expression amused.
"Can I help you?" he asked leaning into your hands with a crooked smirk on his lips.
"No," you said brightly a smile on your face, giving his chest another appreciative squeeze. "Can I help you, sir? These look heavy."
He couldnât help the laugh that burst out of him. You laughed with him before you melted into his arms, pressing your face against his neck and inhaling deeply.Â
"Mmm, you smell so good.â Before you pulled back slightly resting your chin on his chest to look into his eyes. You studied his face with a theatrically confused look on your face. âYâknow, you look Like... like...Like my husband. Who I love. Did you know I have the hottest husband in the whole world?"
"You might've mentioned it," he said, trying to hide his smile as he kicked the door shut behind you. "About fifteen times on the drive home."
"Only fifteen?" You frowned, genuinely concerned. "That's not enough. You're soâ" You poked his chest emphatically with each word. "Fucking. Hot. Leon."
He caught your hand before you could poke him again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's get you some water, Okay?"
But you had other ideas. Your free hand slid down his torso, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "Or... we could skip the water and get wet in other ways."
"Water first," he said firmly ignoring your lewd suggestion, though his eyes had darkened slightly. He guided you toward the kitchen, keeping one arm around you because you kept veering off course and stumbling over nothing. When you rounded the corner and almost knocked your wedding pictures off the wall, he had enough and bent down, scooping you up to throw you over his shoulder, one hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack that made you yelp.
"Leon!" you squealed, but you were grinning and laughing as he carried you toward the kitchen. Your hands immediately mischievously slid down his firm back to grab his ass in return, squeezing a handful shamelessly.
"Mrs. Kennedy," Leon said, his voice strained with barely contained laughter. "Please keep your hands to yourself."
"No," you said simply, squeezing again for emphasis. He shook his head before he reached back behind him to gather both of your wrists to hold them captive, he was still grinning as he carried you toward the kitchen. You pouted the whole way there, then immediately perked up when he deposited you onto the counter, standing in-between your legs. "Ooh, I like this." You said wrapping your legs around his waist before he could step away, pulling him close. "No! Stay." you immediately lunged forward, trying to steal a kiss.
"I need to get you water," he said, but he didn't move after that, his hands settling on your thighs.
"Don't care." You cupped his face in both hands, studying him. "Your eyes are so pretty and I love your face." You traced his bottom lip with your thumb. "Everything about you is pretty. How did I get so lucky?"
His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "I'm the lucky one."
"Don't you know the saying that the wife is always right," you insisted, tightening your legs around him. "You're stuck with me now. Forever. You married me. No takebacks."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, reaching past you to grab a glass from the cabinet. You took advantage of his proximity to kiss his neck, your hands sliding under his shirt.
Leon caught you by the shoulders, holding you at arm's length. "Water first."
"Kiss first," you counter offered, trying to lean around his hands.
"Water," he repeated not coming down from his initial starting offer, he drove a hard bargain and you couldn't talk him down. You pouted dramatically as he stepped over to the sink, swinging your legs and watching him. Your eyes never left him as he filled the glass, tracking every movement like a cat watching a bird out the window. You made another grab for him wrapping around him like a koala, nipping at his neck as he tried to fill the glass.
"Baby," he said, his voice strained as he filled the glass with water. "You need to drink water."
"I need to drink you," you said, then dissolved into giggles at your own terrible line. "Get it? Because you're a tall glass ofâ"
"I got it," he said, laughing despite himself. He pressed the glass into your hand. "Drink."
"You're trying to waterboard me," you whined, but you took a sip anyway, never breaking eye contact. The moment you swallowed, you set the glass down and reached for him again. "There. Water. Now kiss."
"More water," he said, fighting back a smile as he pushed the glass back toward you. You took another exaggerated sip, then another, then drained half the glass in one go. "Happy?"
"With you? Always," he said sweetly and you almost melted into a puddle on the counter, he stepped between your legs letting you wrap them around his waist.
You immediately cupped his face, pulling him close. "I love you so much," you breathed, suddenly serious despite the alcohol buzzing through your system. " You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and you're so good to me. Even when I'm being silly."
His expression softened completely, and he leaned his forehead against yours. "You're always a little silly. That's why I love you." he said softly, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.
"Don't be so sweet to me," you said, your voice wobbling, overwhelmed by the alcohol and emotions. "I'll cry."
"Can't help it," he said, kissing the tip of your nose. You pulled him into a messy and enthusiastic kiss, he could taste the sweetness of the coconut and milk and sour tang of pineapple from the Piña coladaâs you'd been drinking. He kissed you back just as thoroughly, one hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip.
When you finally broke apart, both of your chests were heaving, breathing hard. You grinned at him, feeling floaty and warm and so, so in love with the man Infront of you, taking such good care of you even though you were making it your mission to make it as difficult as possible. "Take me to bed?"
"To sleep," he clarified stubbornly, though his voice was a little rough after the kiss.
"Sure," you agreed easily, knowing you'd try to change his mind the second you got there. "Whatever you say, handsome."
He shook his head fondly and scooped you up, carrying you toward the bedroom while you peppered his jaw and neck with kisses, your hands never quite managing to stay to yourself.Â
The mattress bounced as you flopped onto it, sprawling out like a starfish before you started making sheet angels in the dark navy bed sheets. Leon stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with an exasperated but completely smitten look, he couldnât even try and hide it.
"Don't move," he said sternly pointing to you like you were a unruly dog, before heading to the bathroom.
"Can't promise anything," you called after him, already rolling onto your side and nearly tumbling off the bed. You caught yourself at the last second, giggling. Your dress was rucked up and bunched around your waist, your whole ass out as you rolled over and mashed your face directly into his pillow, letting a drawn-out moan at his scent. Breathing in the notes of the honey and vanilla of the new detergent you just bought, mixed with his own woodsy shampoo that was still lingering on the fabric.Â
He returned with a makeup wipe, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His hand reached up and gently pulled your dress back into place where it had ridden up, his palm coming to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing along your curves.
"Come on, sit up for me," he said softly, his other hand sliding to your back to help you.
You pushed yourself upright with his help, swaying slightly, and when you saw the makeup wipe in his hand your whole face lit up.
"You remembered!" you said, your words slurring together in your excitement. "You're the best husband ever. I hate waking up with crusty makeup. It's so gross and my face feels allâ" You made a disgusted noise, scrunching up your nose.
"I know," Leon said, his expression fond. "That's why I'm doing this."
"You're perfect," you sighed, crawling toward him on your hands and knees, aiming to look seductive and enticing but coming off more like Bambi as you overshoot and bumped into his chest. "Oops." You said laughing as you melted into his chest and he took all of your weight holding you up as he went to clean your face.
"Yeah, oops," he said, his arm coming around your waist to hold you up, while bringing the wipe to your face with the other.
The cool, damp cloth touched your cheek, and you immediately started complaining as he wiped your lips off. "Mmhhhnn!"
"Hold still," Leon said, his voice patient as he cupped the back of your head to keep you in place trying to be even more gentle then before. "You'll thank me in the morning."
"I won't," you insisted, even though you knew he was right, squirming as he wiped away your mascara and eyeshadow. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."
"Mm-hmm." He tilted your chin up, carefully cleaning around your eyes. "So cruel. Taking care of my drunk wife." You tried to protest again but he was already moving to your other eye, his touch gentle despite your fussing. When he finally pulled the wipe away, now thoroughly covered in foundation and mascara. Once he was done you puckered your lips expectantly, eyes still closed.
When nothing happened, you cracked one eye open to find him watching you with barely suppressed amusement. Then his hands came up to squish your cheeks together, making your lips pucker even more before he leaned in and gave you the tiniest quickest peck, releasing you.
"That's it?" you demanded sadly. "That's all I get?"
"That's all you get until you're in bed," he said, standing and moving to the dresser. He pulled out one of his old t-shirts, your favorite one to sleep in. You made grabby hands at it, but when he tried to help you out of your dress, you went completely limp. "Can't move. Too drunk. Guess I have to sleep like this."
"Nice try." He maneuvered your arms out of the sleeves despite your best efforts to be as unhelpful as possible, flopping around like a fish out of water. When he finally got the dress off and tried to put the shirt on you, you suddenly had the energy to twist away.
"Wait, I changed my mind. I want the blue one."
"This is the blue one."
"The other blue one."
"You're wearing this one," Leon said firmly, catching you around the waist and wrestling the shirt over your head. You emerged from the neck hole with your hair sticking up in every direction, and he smoothed it down with a fond shake of his head.
The second you were dressed; you threw yourself backward onto the mattress, like a Victorian lady with a fainting spell. You flung one arm over your eyes; the back of your other hand pressed to your forehead.
"My husband doesn't love me anymore. He's so mean. He forces me to drink water and wear shirts to bed. And he won't ravish me like I know he wants to."
Leon couldn't help but laugh, if there was one thing his wife was when she was drunk, it was honest.
"Sooo tragic," you continued, your voice dripping with drama. "Death from no Snu-Snu."
You peeked out from under your arm to watch as he pulled his own shirt off to get ready for bed, and the entire act you had put on crumbled instantly. Your eyes went wide, tracking the movement of fabric up his torso, over his shoulders. You attempted a whistle, what came out was more of a pathetic swoosh of air with no substance. You tried again, pursing your lips with intense concentration. This time nothing came out at all, you looked like you were trying to blow out candles on an invisible birthday cake, your cheeks puffing out uselessly.
"Are you done?" Leon asked in amusement as he watched your increasingly desperate attempts. You tried one final time, producing what one might call a raspberry, and that was apparently his limit. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked, rolling you up in it like a burrito before you could even protest. You let out a muffled "Hey!" as he climbed in behind you and pulled you flush against his bare chest, wrapping both of you in the cocoon of blankets.
"Just go to sleep, baby." he murmured against your hair, his arm curled around your waist.
You wanted to say how much you loved him or how the joke was on him because this was exactly where you wanted to be, but the words were stuck in your throat as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. The room was soft and fuzzy around the edges of your vision, and his heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, you were so comfortable, so safe, so...
A soft snore escaped you as you finally closed your eyes, tucked safely in Leonâs arms. Leon pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his own eyes drifting closed, a soft smile still on his lips.
Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoyed anon! I wasnât sure if you wanted something a little spicy but it turned out more sweet! This might be the last little blurb while Iâm locked in and finishing my WIP request fic Iâve been working on for a while, I'm finally editing itâŠand Iâm literally so closeâŠHopefully, I finish it by tomorrow....