i’ll kiss the sun @kkissthesun - Tumblr Blog

Posts

Hey, welcome to my blog! ☀︎ I'm a cat lover, gamer and a chronic daydreamer. I'm pretty new to writing fanfiction, so this blog is as much a learning experience as it is a creative outlet.

This space is mostly dedicated to Leon S. Kennedy and Resident Evil. I'm a newer RE fan but I've known about the franchise for years, it just took me a while to finally dive in. Safe to say I'm now completely obsessed!

My works:

Neighborly (MDNI)

#leon kennedy #resident evil

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

enthralled-dreams

𓈒 𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 𓈒

Sexting

⋆ Leon Kennedy x gn!reader

⋆ W/C: 905

⋆ Summary: Your husband, Leon, has been out working for the past week. Missing him, you decide to text him, and surprise him with a picture, which then he sends one back, and even something more...

⋆ Tags: Leon & reader are married, sexting, NSFW, masturbation, & nudes.

Neighborly

Part 2: Home for the Holidays

(RE9 Leon Kennedy x Female Reader)

Summary: It's been five months since he ghosted you. You're home for the holidays hoping to avoid him entirely. Instead, you've got a demolished snowman in your front yard, a newly painted living room, and him sat at your family's table like nothing happened. You're still furious but you're still not over him. And you have no idea which one is going to win.

WC: 6.4k

Warnings: MDNI, mentions of sexting/nudes, angst, age gap, ghosting, fluff, yearning, slow burn

Notes: No smut this part but I promise there will be some in the future!

Link to Part 1

Original post on ao3

Playlist for this part

Taglist: @mskennedy2

The cold air hit you the second the airport doors slid open and you’d almost forgotten how the air out here bit in December. Back east the cold was wet and heavy. Here it was thin, sharp and stung your face like it had something to prove. It was the kind of dry cold that made your eyes water and your breath come out in hard white clouds. You pulled your coat tighter and stood at the curb with your bag while you waited for your mom.

You spent the whole flight trying to not think about Leon ghosting you a few weeks after you went back home and had failed somewhere over the middle of the country.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. It had been one afternoon and one night in July. You kept telling yourself that it was just a summer fling, it was just a hookup, and it didn’t mean anything. You were leaving the next day and that was the deal. You said it to Leon in his half-torn-apart living room. Tomorrow. You’d set the terms and you didn’t get to be surprised when they held.

Except. He did text you. That was the part you were caught on. If he’d let you walk out that door and never said another word, you could have forgotten about it. But he didn’t. For almost three weeks after you flew home you messaged each other. It was the same sarcastic back and forth you’d had over beers in your parents’ backyard but it was in your pocket all day. He’d sent you pictures of the kitchen cabinets that were finally hung. You’d said something obnoxious about the backsplash. He’d said something obnoxious back.

There’d been messages, late at night where the banter turned into flirting. Then the flirting turned into something more. It escalated in a way those things do when two people can’t sleep and won’t say why. You sent him nudes first, not knowing what his reaction would be. He didn’t seem like the type. But when you least expected it, he sent you one back and it made your breath catch. You waited for the typing dots with your heart going stupid in your chest. He complimented you and made you feel wanted, instead of just looked at. You fell asleep that night smiling.

And then out of nowhere he just stopped texting you back.

There wasn’t a fight. Just a few messages you’d sent that went unanswered. Then after a few days you decided that following up would’ve looked desperate. Days, weeks and then… Five months went by and now it was just a fact of life that whatever happened that night probably meant nothing to him.

Except it didn’t add up with how tender he’d been. The man who could go five months without a single word was not supposed to be the same man who’d taken his time with you in the dark, who’d cleaned you up after and kissed you like you were something worth being gentle with. Those two men were not supposed to be the same person. And the fact that they were had kept you up more nights than you’d admit to anyone.

You’d stopped trying to solve it after a few months. Mostly.

A familiar car swung up to the curb and your mom leaned across to push the door open. You shoved the emotions and thoughts of Leon down and put on the face you wore for your family.

“There she is.” Your mom walked out from the car and hugged you. “God, you must be frozen, why weren’t you inside? Here, put your bag in the back. How was the flight?”

“It was fine, Mom.”

“Well you look tired.”

You both got into the car and sat down. She pulled out into traffic with the particular fearlessness of a woman who’d driven this same loop for thirty years. “Your sister came in on Tuesday, did I tell you? She’s staying through the week with the kids, so the house is full, I hope you don’t mind the noise. The kids have been asking about you nonstop and I mean, nonstop. Mason had something he wanted to show you, I don’t know what it is, something with cards.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Deadly serious.” She glanced at you, with the warmness that mothers usually do. “It’s good to have you home, sweetheart. It’s been too long.”

“It’s good to be home.”

You meant it, mostly. The small talk carried you out of the airport and onto the highway. Your mom was talking about the sister logistics, who was cooking what for Christmas, the saga of the neighborhood’s collective failure to not shovel the snow off the sidewalks. It was easy and familiar to you. The mountains came up white on the horizon and the light went long and golden the way it only did out here, and something in your chest loosened a notch despite itself.

When you finally turned onto your parents’ street, you saw the house next door and the notch pulled tight again.

You knew it was stupid and impossible but you told yourself you weren’t going to look at his house as much as possible while you were here. But your eyes went to it the way a tongue goes to a sore tooth before you could stop them. The same gray siding and black metal roof looked somewhat different now. There were actual curtains in the front window and a wreath hung on the front door. The whole place had the settled look of somewhere that was lived in.

And in the driveway sat a car you did not expect.

A black Porsche.You knew the car was expensive and it probably cost more than you made in a very good couple years put together. It didn’t look like the kind of vehicle that would be owned by a guy who told you he moved to the suburbs because he wanted normal. It didn’t fit. Normal men who renovated their own kitchens did not have a luxury car sitting out in their driveway.

You didn’t know what he did for work. All he ever said was work moved me a lot in that flat tone. That closed the door you decided not to knock on because you didn’t want to pry. It seemed polite at the time but now it was another piece that didn’t fit the others. And the not-knowing had teeth in the winter that it didn’t have in the summer.

Under the mystery the old hurt crept back up your throat. Because whatever he was, whoever he was, whatever that car meant, he still hadn’t texted you. And now he’s fifteen feet away, all week, and you were going to have to look at that finished house every single time you walked to your own front door.

⋆꙳·❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

When you walked inside it was filled with warmth and chaos. You noticed the christmas tree in the corner of the living room and the smell of food in the kitchen. Your dad got up from his chair to hug you and tell you that you looked thinner, which was probably true. Your sister, Dani, was there with the loudness of someone you didn’t see nearly enough and hugged you. Your niece attached herself to your leg and your nephew appeared with an expression of grave importance. He immediately began explaining a card game with rules that seemed to change as he described them. Everyone was loud but it was good, it was distracting enough.

Your niece pulled you toward the couch to show you one of her toys and that’s when you noticed something was different.

The living room was a different color.

It had been painted beige your whole life. Now it was a soft gray-green. It was a nice color and it made the living room seem brighter. It almost looked like a color you would have picked yourself.

“Hey, mom, when did you repaint the living room?”

“Oh. You noticed!” Your mom was pleased, wiping her hands on a towel in the doorway. “Doesn’t it look nice? We’ve been meaning to do it for I don’t know how many years. Your father kept saying he’d get to it.” She said it fondly, the way she said most things about your father not getting to things. “That nice man next door offered to repaint it a few months ago, he said he had the ladders and drop cloths already from his own place. Wouldn’t take a cent for it. Did the whole room in one day.” She shook her head, still a little amazed by it. “Nicest thing. I made him a plate of dinner but he wouldn’t stay.”

“That was nice of him,” you heard yourself say.

“Very nice man.” Your mom went back toward the kitchen. “Keeps to himself, but very nice.”

You stood in the middle of the living room with the paint job that your parents wanted for years, the room he had painted and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You were a little confused and it added to the list of things that didn’t fit the story you’d spent the last five months telling yourself.

“It’s a great color, Mom,” you called and you let your niece pull you down onto the couch and show you her toy.

It took you the better part of an hour to peel away and haul your bag up the stairs to your old room.

It was the same as it always was. Your bed was still in the same spot and the same posters on the wall that you picked out in high school. The same window that looked out over the side yard and the corner of his house next door. You dropped your bag and sat on the edge of the bed. The noise of the family muffled through the floor and you were hit with a wave of sleepiness.

You took out your phone and you told yourself you were just checking the time but your thumb was already going to your messages. You tapped on Leon’s name and scrolled up to the kitchen photo and the messages that made your face go warm.

And then you scrolled back down to the bottom, the last message you sent that was still on delivered.

You looked at the date.

July 27.

Then you noticed over the hedge and through your window, a light came on in the house next door. The kitchen light, warm and yellow in the blue dark. You turned your phone face-down on the quilt. You looked at the ceiling and told yourself, again, that it didn’t matter but it was getting harder to believe it.

⋆꙳·❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You woke up to the weight of your sister landing on the end of your bed and her voice way too loud for whatever time it was.

“Up. Come on. The children have plans for you.”

You cracked one eye open. The light peaking out from your window was gray, the kind of gray that usually meant fresh snow. Your sister was sitting on the foot of your bed already dressed and a cup of coffee in hand. She had a smug look on her face that looked like she had been awake for hours and intended to make it your problem.

“What time is it?”

“Late enough. Mason and Ellie want to build a snowman with you after breakfast. It’s very important. There’s apparently going to be a committee.” She sipped her coffee. “I told them you’d be thrilled.”

“Sooo thrilled,” you said sarcastically into the pillow.

“You sound thrilled.” She stood, then paused at the edge of the bed, and her voice dropped out of the teasing register into something lower. “Hey. You haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, right? About moving back?”

You came a little more awake. “No. Have you?”

“No, God, it’s not my business to tell them. I just didn’t want to walk into it blind if it came up.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re still doing the whole—”

“I want to tell them at Christmas dinner.” You sat up, scrubbing a hand over your face. “I’ve got the whole thing planned. I think it’ll be a good surprise.”

Your sister smiled, softer now. “It is a good surprise,” she agreed. “They’re going to lose it. Mom’s going to cry into the potatoes.” She headed for the door. “Mom said breakfast will be ready in ten. Wear something you don’t mind getting wet, the committee has demands.”

She left, and you sat there in bed with the thought of moving back warm in your chest. The job back east had run its course, and the new one started in March, and it was here. Not this town exactly but about thirty minutes from here. It was close enough to be home for real instead of twice a year. You’d been carrying this around for three weeks and Christmas dinner was going to be the moment you finally let everyone know.

You didn’t in any of your planning, let yourself think about what it meant that “close enough to be home for real” was also close enough to a certain house, his house next door.

You got up out of bed and put on thermals under an old pair of jeans, thick socks, and a chunky sweater you found in your childhood dresser that you’d left behind years ago. Not cute, exactly, but warm.

⋆꙳·❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Breakfast was laid out with eggs, bacon and your mom’s cinnamon rolls, the good ones she only made when everyone was home. Mason was explaining the snowman to anyone who’d listen. Ellie had syrup in her hair already. Your dad was reading something on his phone and making the small disapproving noises he usually made when watching the news. You were halfway through a cinnamon roll when your mom dropped the words in the middle of the table like it was nothing.

“Oh. I invited the neighbor over for Christmas dinner. The nice man next door. He’s coming Christmas night.”

You put your fork down.

“What?” The words coming out sharper than you meant. “Why?”

Your mom blinked at you, mildly surprised. “Why? Because it’s the right thing to do. He’s over there all by himself, that whole big house, no family that I’ve ever seen come by. And after he did the living room for free, I wasn’t going to just let the man eat a sad dinner alone on Christmas.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because to her it was. “It seemed lonely. He seemed lonely. So I asked, and he said yes.”

He said yes. Of course he did. He’d say yes to your mother in a heartbeat. He’d paint the walls and come for Christmas, apparently, everything except message you back.

“Well,” you said, aiming for light and landing somewhere short of it, “I’m sure that’s his choice.”

There was a small pause. Your sister glanced at you. Your dad looked up from his phone. Even your mom paused, her head tilting a fraction, and you felt the whole table register that the temperature had shifted a couple of degrees for reasons none of them could see.

"...Right," your mom said slowly. "It is his choice. That's generally how invitations work."

“I just mean it’s nice,” you said, picking your fork back up. “It’s nice of you.”

Your sister was still looking at you but you didn’t look back at her.

Mason, gloriously oblivious, chose that moment to announce that the snowman committee would be convening in the front yard in fifteen minutes and that your attendance was mandatory. The kids moved on from the table and you got up too. But you could still feel your sister filing what you said away and you knew that at some point today you were going to have a conversation you weren’t ready for.

You also knew on Christmas night. Leon would be here, at this table, three days from now and you didn’t know what you were going to do.

But for now there was a snowman that needed to be made, and its demands would not wait.

⋆꙳·❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The front yard was untouched with a clean sheet of snow. It was about six inches deep and glittering. The whole street was quiet the way it does after it snows. Mason took charge immediately, assigning roles with the authority of a small general: you were on base duty, Ellie was on head, he would supervise and handle “the important parts,” which remained undefined.

You didn’t mind though, you crouched in your mom’s too big coat and showed Mason how to roll the base so it picked up more snow as it went. Ellie was patting a lopsided lump between her mittens with tremendous dedication and no discernible technique. Your breath came out in clouds. Somewhere down the block someone was scraping the ice off the windshield of their car.

The snowman came together into something that was, mostly, snowman-shaped. It leaned slightly to the right. It had two rocks as eyes at slightly different heights, which gave it a permanently skeptical expression, and Ellie insisted on donating her scarf, which she would absolutely want back within the hour. The three of you stood back to admire it and it held and it was genuinely the ugliest snowman you’d ever helped build. You loved it a little bit.

“It needs arms,” Mason said gravely.

“It does need arms. Go find sticks.”

He went, with Ellie following after him because Ellie usually went wherever Mason went. You crouched there for a second alone beside your terrible snowman, hands cold and breath fogging. You let yourself just be in it with the quiet as you watched the kids gather the sticks.

Then you heard a loud bark in the distance.

You recognized that bark before you turned around. You wished you didn’t but some part of your brain had somehow catalogued that exact bark and never let it go. Your stomach dropped a full second before the fluffy tan-and-white blur came running through the snow. You had just enough time to think oh no before the dog hit the snowman at a dead sprint.

It exploded. There was no other word for it. The head fell one way to the ground and the scarf went another and the skeptical rock eyes vanished into the powder. The dog barreled straight through the wreckage and into you. Sixty-some pounds of pure fluff, both front paws in the snow at your feet and his whole back half wagging so hard he could barely keep them there.

Ellie shrieked and Mason shrieked louder, delighted, the snowman instantly forgotten in favor of the vastly superior dog. You were down on one knee in the snow with the dog’s tongue across your jaw, you started laughing despite yourself, hands full of cold fur and your heart doing something complicated.

“Hey,” You said to him with a soft voice. “Hey, buddy. Look at you. You’ve gotten so fluffy.”

He remembered you. He shouldn’t have but he was pressed into you like no time had passed, whining, trying to get close, and you buried your face in the ruff of his neck for a second longer than you needed to. You knew it was easier than looking up because you knew what was coming next.

“Buddy. Hey, hey.”

Leon was jogging toward you, with no coat, gray henley, jeans and boots. He’d clearly shoved on in a hurry. He pulled up short about ten feet away when he saw you, and he just.. Stopped. The dog didn’t care about any of it, if anything, the dog was in heaven. But the two of you looked at each other across ten feet of trampled snow and a demolished snowman, and every easy thing you’d never even got to rehearse went straight out of your head.

Leon looked good. It was unfair and it was the first thing you noticed. A little more gray at the temples than July, maybe, or maybe you’d softened the memory. The same pale blue eyes. The same way of going still and reading a situation before he committed to it. But now you knew that stillness wasn’t calm, and you watched him do the math of you, here, in the snow, in front of him, and arrive somewhere that made his jaw tighten.

“Hi,” he said.

Five months of nothing. And hi.

“Hi,” you said back.

The dog looked between you both, thrilled, certain this was the greatest thing that had ever happened to anyone. Behind you Ellie was already demanding to know the dog’s name, and Mason was informing her that the snowman looked “way better now,” and the cold was getting into your knees where you knelt in the snow.

"He, uh." He gestured at the ruined snowman, at the general catastrophe, and something that wasn't quite a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Sorry about your—"

“Snowman?”

“Yeah. Buddy.” Leon snapped his fingers. “Come.”

“Buddy?” You questioned.

“...Yeah.” There was a hesitation before it, small but there, like the name cost him something to say out loud in front of you. It caught you off guard but you didn’t know why.

And that hesitation, for whatever reason, was the thing that tipped the irritation over in you.

“You know,” you said, and your voice came out cold, “you really should get him a collar if he’s going to keep running out like this. And maybe keep a better eye on him.”

You watched the way he took it and didn’t flinch. He didn’t defend himself either, because he knew as well as you did that you weren’t really talking about the dog.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I should.”

He didn’t argue and that was almost worse. You wanted him to push back, to give you something to actually be angry at and instead he stood there in the snow and agreed with you.

You brushed the snow off your knees and stood.

“You kids want some hot chocolate?”

Your mom’s voice carried across the yard from the front porch completely oblivious. You turned to see her standing in the doorway in her slippers with a dish towel over her shoulder, beaming out at the snow like the whole scene was a Christmas card she’d staged herself. Her eyes landed on Leon and lit up.

“Oh. Leon! I didn’t see you out here. Perfect, come in, I was just about to make some hot chocolate for the kids. You’re coming for Christmas anyway, might as well start now.” She said it the way she did everything, like it was already decided and it utterly irritated you.

You watched him navigate her question. You watched him want to say no. His weight shifted with the polite decline already on the tip of his tongue and you watched him bite it.

Mason and Ellie were gone, thundering past him, Buddy chasing after them playfully into the chaos.

“I don’t want to impose,” Leon said.

“You painted my living room, you’re not imposing.” Your mom was already turning back inside. "Come on, before it gets cold. Bring the dog, the kids'll love him."

Bring the dog, the kids’ll love him. Those were the exact words you’d said to him in July, at his own front door. It landed in your chest like a stone dropped down a well, and when you glanced at Leon he was already looking at you like he remembered it too. For a second neither of you had anywhere but each other to put your eyes and then he looked away.

“Yeah,” he said to your mom. “Okay. Thanks.”

⋆꙳·❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The kitchen felt stifling hot and you were losing your mind.

Your mom had Leon sitting at the dining room table with a steaming mug of hot chocolate pressed into his hands with the determination of a woman who considered a lonely neighbor a personal project. The kids had gone feral. Mason had claimed the chair beside Leon and wouldn’t stop talking about Buddy exploding the snowman. Ellie had abandoned the table entirely for Buddy on the floor.

“What kind of dog is he?” Mason demanded.

“He’s some kind of shepherd.” Leon said. “The shelter wasn’t sure. Could be a little bit of everything.”

“Can he do tricks?”

“He can sit. When he feels like it. Which isn’t very often.”

“Buddy!” Mason spun in his chair. “Buddy, sit!”

Buddy was sprawled across the kitchen floor on his back with Ellie hugging him. He, of course, did not sit. He thumped his tail against the cabinet and wriggled deeper into the attention, one back leg kicking as Ellie found a good spot behind his ear. He looked like the most content dog in the world.

“He’s not sitting,” Mason reported.

Ellie had both arms around the dog’s neck now, her face buried into his fur. “He’s so soft,” she informed everyone. “He’s the softest dog. I love him. Can we keep him?”

“No sweetie, he’s not ours,” your mom said, delighted. “But I’m sure Leon will let you visit.”

“Buddy can come to my birthday,” Ellie decided. Buddy licked her cheek and shrieked with joy. Mason immediately demanded the dog to lick his cheek too.

“Alright, alright. Buddy.” Leon didn’t raise his voice and snapped his fingers once. “Come here. Sit.”

He got up off the floor, trotted around the table, and sat down at Leon’s feet.

“How did you do that,” Mason said in an amazed tone.

“He likes to make me look good in front of company.” Leon scratched behind the dog's ears. “Don’t get used to it, kid. He’ll be back to ignoring me by dinner.”

Leon watched the kids with that look you remembered. Like a man enjoying the warmth of a fire from just a little further back than everyone else. But this time there was something softer in it, like the distance had shrunk.

And that’s where your brain left the room.

You tried to be normal. But instead you were floating about a foot outside your own body, leaned against the counter with your hot chocolate you haven’t been drinking, watching Leon get along with everyone like he belonged here. The sound of everyone went muffled and far away.

“And you remember Leon, honey, from the Fourth of July, right?”

You were a thousand miles off with the question sailing clean past you.

“Honey.”

You finally perked up.

“Yeah.” You paused. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Leon said back, just as carefully. The two of you performed acquaintances so hard the air went stiff with it.

Across the table your sister’s eyes moved from you, to Leon, and back to you.

Your mom’s brow twitched. “You okay, hon?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? You seem a little—”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

She glanced at your untouched mug. “Is the hot chocolate bad? I think I might’ve put too much milk—”

“No. It’s fine. It’s good.” You made yourself take a sip to prove it.

Ellie, meanwhile, had gotten up to follow Buddy around the table. She dropped back down beside him to bury her hands in his fur again. She petted him with the intense, wobbling focus of a five-year-old, and then in the way small children have no filter, she looked up at Leon and asked:

“Do you have a wife?”

“Ellie.” Your sister put a hand over her eyes.

But Leon just huffed, unbothered with that quiet almost-laugh. “No,” he said. “No wife.”

“Why not?”

“Ellie. Oh my god.” Your sister reached over and pulled Ellie to her side. “You can’t just — we don’t ask people that.”

“It’s alright.” Leon was still faintly amused, still scratching the dog.

Ellie, apparently done with her interview, reached up to the kitchen table and grabbed a marshmallow out of the open bag. She ran to the other side of Leon to feed it to the dog.

“Ellie, no—” You pushed off the counter, moving toward her. “He can’t have that, that’s not for—”

“He can’t have those,” Leon said at the same moment, reaching for her little fist. “They’re not good for him.”

And your hands met over Ellie’s hand.

It was just a graze. His fingers over the back of yours for a quarter of a second. You pulled your hand back, not in a dramatic way, but you felt it go all the way up your arm and settle hot somewhere behind your ribs. When you glanced up he was already looking at you.

Your sister saw it and you knew it.

“Okay, no marshmallows for the dog,” you said, too briskly, prying the squashed marshmallow out of Ellie’s fingers. “Buddy can’t have those, they’re bad for him.”

“He can have a piece of cookie later,” Leon offered Ellie in a soft tone. “The plain part. No chocolate, chocolate’s bad for dogs. But a little bit of the plain part, that’s okay.”

“Okay,” Ellie agreed and went back to loving the dog with her whole body.

You walked back to the kitchen with the squished marshmallow and threw it away.

Mason, who had been quietly assembling something at the table, slapped a battered deck of cards down in front of Leon.

“Do you know how to play Kessel?”

Leon looked at the cards. “I don’t think so. Is that a real game?”

“It’s my game,” Mason said. “I’ll teach you. It’s easy.” He was already dealing and slapping the cards down in uneven piles. “You have to get three of the same cards but not the same color, unless you have a wild, then it’s four, and you can’t look at the middle ones until someone says go.” He pointed at you without looking up. “You’re playing too. We need three people.”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“You’re playing,” Mason said as authoritatively as a seven-year-old kid can be.

You sat down across from Leon and Mason was sitting next to you. The card game rules seemed to change based on Mason’s needs at any given moment, while Ellie narrated from the floor. Your mom refilled everyone’s cocoa and pretended she wasn’t watching the whole thing like a hawk.

“Okay, go,” Mason announced.

You picked up your cards. You had no idea what you were doing and neither, blessedly, did Leon.

“So I need three that match,” Leon said, slowly, studying his hand, “but not the same color.”

“Unless you have a wild.”

“What do the wilds look like?”

“They’re the ones with the star. Or the moon. Not the sun, the sun ones are worth negative.” Mason said like it was obvious, like Leon was being deliberately slow. “Do you have a moon?”

“I have a —” Leon turned a card around. “Is this a moon?”

“That’s a sun.”

“They look identical, Mason.” You chimed in.

“They do not.” Mason was scandalized and Ellie from the floor told Leon he was “Very bad at this,” and Leon accepted the critique with grace. And you laughed before you could stop yourself.

Leon glanced up at the sound of it. Something a little wistful crossed his face before he looked down at his impossible hand. You felt the laugh die in your throat as you remembered, all over again, that you were supposed to be angry with him.

You picked up another card that was a sun and it was worth negative something. You had, apparently, already lost.

“You’re bad at this too,” Mason informed you.

“Yeah,” You said, smiling at Mason. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The game wound down with Mason declaring himself the winner and no one argued.

Your mom took the moment to refill Leon’s mug one more time.

“So, Leon. What is it you do? For work, I mean. You’ve got that lovely car, we were all wondering.” She laughed lightly. “You’re not a bank robber, are you?”

It was meant as a joke, an easy question to fill the strange air.

“I, uh.” He turned the mug in his hands. “I worked for the government. For a while.” A beat. “It’s — complicated. Retired now, mostly.”

Government. You filed him saying government next to the Porsche and everything else that didn’t fit. The pile getting taller.

“Well,” Your mom said smiling. “We’re glad you ended up next door.”

Leon didn’t stay much longer after that. He read the room and read you, probably. He finished his cocoa and thanked your mom. Told the kids to take good care of Buddy for him. He was gracious and easy.

Your mom walked him out to the door, chattering about Christmas, told him to not bring anything, just himself. And at the door, Leon paused and his eyes found you across the kitchen. There was something in them, like he wanted to tell you something before deciding not to. All he said was:

“See you Christmas.”

He stepped out to the front porch with Buddy reluctantly following him.

The door shut and the whole house was quiet.

Your mom and sister looked at each other then at you.

“I’m going upstairs,” you announced. You set your mug down in the sink and fled with both of them watching you go the whole way back up.

⋆꙳·❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You didn’t even get to sit down on your bed before your door opened.

“Okay.” Your sister came in and shut it behind her, hot chocolate still in hand. “What was that.”

“What was what.”

“Oh, come on.” She leaned against the door. “The energy between you and Leon was weird as fuck.” She paused. “You know him.”

“I– it’s complicated.”

“Tell me.” She sat her drink down on your dresser and sat down on the end of your bed, pulling one leg up under her. “Go on.”

So you told her all of it. The dog. The barbecue. The fireworks. How easy he’d been to be around. And the part where you went home with him at the end of the night, and what that turned into.

“Shut up.” Her hand flew up over her mouth. “In July? And you didn’t tell me!”

“I didn’t think it was a whole thing.”

“It clearly is a whole thing.” She was grinning now, delighted, leaning in. “I can’t believe you hooked up with the hot mystery neighbor! I have to say, sis–” she nodded slowly. “I’m kind of impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Hey!” You swatted her arm.

“Ow!” She laughed, rubbing it.

“You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

“I know. But you love me.” She bumped her shoulder into yours.

You looked down at your hands and started picking a loose thread on the quilt. You felt the grin fade off your face.

“I kind of wish we didn’t hook up.” You said, almost whispering.

The laugh went out of her. You felt her shift beside you, turning to actually look at you.

“Wait.” Her voice dropped. “What do you mean?”

“He– we texted for like three weeks after I went back home. Pretty much every day. And then he just—” You hesitated. “He ghosted me.”

“Oh.” A beat. ” Shit. Really?”

“Mhm.” Your throat did something and you swallowed it down. You wound the thread tighter around your finger. “I thought it was going somewhere. Stupid me.”

“Hey. No.” Dani reached over and put a hand on your knee. When you finally glanced up at her, her face had gone soft. She held your eyes for a second. “That’s — okay, that’s weird. That’s not a fun-summer-fling thing.” She frowned. “But men are weird. And he’s older, right?”

“Yeah.” You wiped a tear under your eye with the heel of your hand. ” What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he got in his head about the age gap and freaked out.” She said it gently, offering it to you like it might help.

“Maybe.”

“Look, I’m just guessing, I have no idea what his deal is.” She leaned back on her hands, watching you. ”But I saw the way he looked at you today. He’s still into you. That much I’d put money on.”

“That’s the whole problem.” You gave the thread a final tug and it snapped loose in your fingers. “I’m still mad at him and I still want him, at the same time. I just wish he’d tell me why he stopped.”

“He’ll be here in a couple days.” She reached over and pulled a piece of hair out of your face. “So ask him.” She held your gaze. “And for what it’s worth. I don’t think him ghosting you is what you think it is.”

You looked out the window instead of her.

“It still doesn’t change what he did.”

“No.” She stood, gathering her mug off the dresser. “It doesn’t. But talking to him’s the only way you’ll find out. So talk to him.” Dani smiled and pulled you into a quick hug, then headed for the door. “And you have to tell me everything he says, immediately.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

I don’t think him ghosting you is what you think it is.

You didn’t want to sit in that. And you for sure didn’t want him to be weirded out by the age gap, though at least that would be a reason. A real one, even if it didn’t matter to you in the way it apparently mattered to him. You could live with he thought he was too old. You’d braced yourself for something like this since July. It was almost comforting, in a bleak way, to have your sister hand you an explanation that made him a nervous man and not a cruel one.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

You took off your socks and lay back on top of the quilt. The exhaustion from all of the events of the day had worn you out. You thought just for a minute you were going to lie down. But something about the snow falling softly outside and the familiar sounds of your family below made you fall asleep completely.

You slept, and you didn’t know for how long. Long enough that the gray sky outside had gone dark.

Then you felt a hard buzz just inches from your head and the loud ding made you jolt awake, heart going before your eyes were open. Your hand fumbled for the phone. The screen was bright in your dark room and you squinted at the words.

Leon - 1 new message

#leon kennedy #resident evil #re9 #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon resident evil #leon x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #re leon #leon kennedy fluff

urambrosia

living dead girl

summary: stop being a brat and take this dick

warning: age gap (reader’s mid 20s-early 30s), annoying brat!reader, piv, wet dreams, masturbation, pussy slapping, angry car sex (kinda hate sex but not really), minor choking, sexual tension, voice kink, mentions of dead bodies, themes of field investigation, violence, viral mutations, weapons and physical training (literally just DSO stuff)

w/c: 8.3k

notes: I just saw a tt of this idea, so I had to do this asap. hopefully this suits the person’s idea, if not, I’m glad I made this. you can find part two here. (@uzmacchiato for dividers)

-present time: month two, 9 pm-

The car was engulfed in silence, rain poured heavy against the vehicle slackening the roads and blurring the city lights into long, watery streaks. The wipers dragged across the windshield in slow arcs, Leon’s eyes remained firm on the dark road, jaw tight enough that you could faintly see the worked up muscle clench against the blue lights. One hand was white knuckled gripping the wheel, the other was glued to his inner thigh folded into a firm first.

blackcatlesbo

RE4!Leon Kennedy who…

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

the-archxr

MY MOON, MY MAN

LEON KENNEDY X AFAB!FEM!READER

SUMMARY: nothing crazy, really… just you and Leon trying something new!

CONTENT: 18+ - mdni! piv - THEE. PRONE BONE SESSION (I drool), headlockinggg, reader’s a bit subby/soft-dom leon (maybe?), creampie, heavy petting, praise kink goes crazy in this. I implied that reader is a bit curvy/chubby, but it’s still fairly neutral so read it however you want. a really messy alternating pov but whatever. lovey dovey shit fr fr.

WC: 1.7k

NOTES: this is nothing more than a leon kennedy’s moobs-and-biceps appreciation fic (inspired by “my moon my man” by feist). **also! I had re4r Leon in mind while writing this but it’s not at all specified so you can honestly imagine whatever Leon you want.**

Leon Kennedy Masterlist!

•••

“You okay, baby?” Leon cooes low at you, his voice smooth and dangerously molten.

“…H-hmm—uh huh.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Your boyfriend’s mouth drags along the ridge of your shoulders. With a light kiss of his teeth, and a few well-placed tentative licks to the sticky skin, he’s making the concerted effort to claim all of you. His. His, as you’ve been countless times before. His, as you will always be.

Your throat is dry; hoarse and cracked, and he hasn’t even entered you yet—but you can’t help it. He had already pulled one orgasm out of you earlier with his mouth and his hands, but now, as he pins you to the bed with his knees and chest, you swear you might come again at any moment.

You’re incredibly sensitive right now, having already been keyed up so high. Leon, of course, has absolutely no problem using this fact to his advantage.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he says quietly, warm breath curling around your ear.

lostdreamsx

sexting x leon kennedy

warning :- sexting , pillow humping , good girl use minors do not interact !

lilacgrayskies

☁︎⋅ CAKE

[SUM] — birthday sex with leon

[TAGS] — rookie!leon, cowgirl, established relationship, normal!au, premature ejaculation, piv, no female orgasm (sorrae), virgin!leon, experienced!reader (somewhat), leon loves boobs, not proofread (it's 2am..)

[A/N] — I was supposed to write and post this like 2 weeks ago OOPS. I got caught up at anime expo and met real Leons (best experience of my life). But everything is slowing down now so I should get back to my regular schedule soon!

the morning started off with leon showing up at your door far earlier than he should’ve. he had a bouquet of your favorite flowers, messily held together with makeshift paper bag wrap. tucked between the stems was a folded note with a little “happy birthday :D” on the front.

the rest of the day was a constellation of little moments that fit together perfectly. breakfast at your favorite diner where he’d memorized your order. wandering through bookstores and record shops, pretending he wasn’t secretly buying something you eyed a little too long.

an afternoon at the arcade where he cheered for your victories and terribly failed to win you a plushie (then claiming the claw machine cheated). by the time the sun began to set, he took you to a quiet overlook of raccoon city with some takeout and a cupcake. he lit the single candle with a lighter he kept for emergencies and shielded the flame with his hands.

“I don’t know what you wished for,” he whispered, a grin spreading across his face. “but I’ll make sure it comes true.”

lightghost02

leon with glasses >>

demoncity

RESIDENT EVIL 2 REMAKE (2019) dev. Capcom

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

zawija

His jawline. His nose. His stubble. His eyes. His hair.

His everything.

I'm melting 🫠

zawija

This man is hotter than the heat wave here in Europe.

Neighborly

Part 1: Sparks Fly

(RE9 Leon Kennedy x Female Reader)

Summary: Leon Kennedy just moved in next door to your parents, and you're only home for the week. It's the Fourth Of July. There's a barbecue, a dog that doesn't have a name yet, and the man next door who says he moved to the suburbs because he wanted normal, for once. You've got just one night. Might as well spend it wisely.

WC: 6.5k

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, protected sex, P in V, consent, older man/younger woman, fluff, age gap, oral (female receiving), soft Leon

Notes: RE9 Leon, set the week of the Fourth. My first fic ever! Hope you enjoy!

Original post on ao3

Playlist I made for this fic

Link to part 2

Your mom had a way of filling the house with sound. There was a radio going in the kitchen, the news was murmuring from the living room and her voice echoed through the house as she was making a phone call. After two days of this you’d started inventing reasons to get outside. Today you decided would be the perfect day to go get the mail.

You slid your sandals on and opened the front door. The air outside was arid and hot. It was the kind of heat that sat on your skin instead of soaking into it. The neighborhood baked quietly, sprinklers ticking somewhere down the block, the mountains cut out past the rooftops.

Right as you opened the front of the mailbox a blur of tan and white came barreling around the hedge and then sixty pounds of enthusiasm planted both front paws on your stomach. It knocked the breath out of you. You staggered and caught yourself on the mailbox post. The dog’s whole back half was wagging with its tongue licking across your jaw before you could turn your face.

You laughed. “Okay, okay, hi!” You went down to a crouch, partly to greet it and partly in self-defense. The dog took the opportunity to try and climb into your lap. It was some kind of shepherd mix with one ear that flopped and one that stood up. “Where’d you come from, huh? Where’s your — you got a collar?”

You were feeling for the tag, the dog squirming with delight, when a voice came from the direction of the hedge.

“Sorry. Sorry, he does that.”

You looked up.

The man coming across the neighboring lawn was wiping his hands on a rag, he looked like he was maybe working. There was drywall dust ghosting the front of his t-shirt, a smear of something pale along one forearm, and his hair was dark blonde with streaks of silver that was falling into his eyes. It looked almost flattened like he had been pushing it back all day with the back of his wrist. He was tall and moved like the heat didn’t bother him. He crouched a few feet away and snapped his fingers once.

“Hey. Come here. Leave the —” He glanced at you. “Leave the poor girl alone.”

“Aw, he’s fine.” You scratched behind the flopped ear, and the dog leaned its whole weight into your hand. “He’s so cute. This is the best welcome I’ve gotten all week.”

“He’s supposed to be learning boundaries,” he said. “It’s going great, as you can see.”

You smiled. “Who needs boundaries, when you’re this cute.” You gave the dog one more scratch and then stood up. You brushed the paw-prints off your shorts. Up close the man looked several years older than you but his face was easy to look at in a way that made you not want to be caught looking. His eyes were a very pale blue and he had some stubble across his jaw. He looked at you, then the street behind you before settling back on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” you said.

“Yeah. I just moved in a couple weeks ago.” He gestured vaguely at the house behind him. It was a nice two story suburban home with gray siding and a black metal roof. “Still—” He glances behind him. “Still renovating the kitchen.”

“Looks like you’re renovating more than just a kitchen.” You nodded at the drywall dust. “You gutting the place?”

“Well the bathroom had some water damage too and the owners before had a real commitment to wood paneling.” He said dryly and you laughed. He seemed a little surprised that you did laugh.

“Y/N” you said, and you put out your hand.

"Leon." He took your hand, his grip was warm and careful, the kind that could be firmer but he was deliberately choosing not to be. "My name's Leon—" A beat, like there was a final part he was going to say.

“Nice to meet you, Leon.” You smiled and let go of his hand. You knelt down at the dog between you. “And nice to meet you too…” You give him a pet on the head and smooshed his face between your hands. He licked your hand in response and panted heavily from the summer heat. “What’s his name?”

“Still working on it. He came from a shelter with the name ‘Biscuit.’ and I refuse to yell ‘Biscuit’ across the yard for the next ten years or so,” He shrugged. “He’s temporarily nameless but he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Well, he surely doesn’t look like a Biscuit to me either.” You scratched under the dog’s chin and he leaned into it with his tail wagging. “You’ll figure it out.”

You grinned. There was a beat where neither of you said anything and the sprinklers ticked and the sun sat warm on the back of your neck. You realized you should have gone back inside with your parents but you enjoyed Leon’s company. Something about him was mysterious and unspeakably handsome that made you want to know more about him.

“Hey,” you knew what you were about to say might have been a little bold. “My family is having a whole fourth of July party. It might be a little overboard but we’re gonna have a barbeque and light up fireworks later in the night. If you don’t have plans, we got enough food to feed the whole neighborhood.”

Leon looked at you for a second. Like he was maybe shocked that someone as young as you would want to invite over an older guy like him. Or maybe it was something else entirely that was weighing on him, maybe some old habit of not committing to things.

“I might have plans,” he said.

“Sure, yeah, that’s totally fine.” you said.

“I might not.”

“Also fine.” You bent down again and gave the dog a last scratch, straightening before it could climb into your lap again. Not that you would have minded. “Offer stands either way. We’re right next to you with the big ass flag in the front yard that’s impossible to miss.” You laughed.

That got a smile from him, finally. “That flag is pretty hard to miss,” he agreed.

“My Dad would be thrilled to hear you say that.” You started backing toward the mailbox that you still hadn’t actually opened. “Oh.. Hey. Good luck with the remodeling!”

“Thanks.” He whistled low, and the dog reluctantly peeled itself off the driveway and trotted to his side. Leon lifted a hand, partially waving with the rag still hooked in his fingers and turned back to his house. You watched him walk back a little longer than you needed to before you opened the mailbox.

It was only filled with grocery flyers and a water bill. You figured it would be and you took it back inside anyways. You decided to not tell your mom about the neighbor, though you weren’t sure why.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The Fourth arrived the way it always had at your parents’ house, it was always way too loud and earlier than it needed to be.

By noon your dad had claimed the grill as sovereign territory and would not be taken over by anybody else. Your aunts had taken over the kitchen. Somewhere in the last twenty-four hours the backyard had sprouted a folding-table archipelago draped in plastic cloths and a small cooler that sat on the patio. It was packed to the brim with ice, cans and glass bottles. Your little cousins, nephews and nieces with two kids you were pretty sure belonged to a neighbor were running around with something that looked like a bubble blower of some sorts. They were shrieking and definitely high on sugar and freedom.

You were mostly useful all morning. You hauled ice, wrangled kids, argued with your uncle about the correct way to arrange a cooler. And around two, standing at the edge of the patio with a sweating glass bottle in your hand, you thought about the guy next door. You looked over the top of his fence and thought about him staring at his drywall. You set the bottle down and told your mom you’d be right back.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“Neighbor,” you said, which was true and explained nothing, and you were out the side gate before she could ask more questions.

You made your way up his driveway and you could hear something from inside the house, a radio and a saw. You knocked on the frame of the screen door and stepped back, suddenly aware that showing up at a near-stranger’s door was probably way too forward than you intended.

The inner door opened. Leon had a pencil behind his ear and a look on his face that shifted from wary to something calmer when he saw it was you. The wariness didn’t fully leave and you noticed.

“Hi,” you said. “So. It’s the Fourth.”

“It is.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “I noticed your dad’s flag has a friend now.”

“Oh. God. Yeah he’s really uh.. Patriotic.” You let out a soft laugh almost wincing. “Hey uhm, the offer from the other day. It still stands if you know.. If you still don't have any plans.”

Leon looked at you. The dog appeared behind his legs and saw you. He lost his entire mind and Leon put a hand down absently to keep him from bolting out the door.

“I don’t have plans,” he admitted.

“Okay, good.” You grinned. “Come on. There’s food and a cooler full of all kinds of beer if you want. Buddy here can come too, the kids will love him.”

“Buddy.” He hesitated and looked down at the dog like he was pondering on the new found name.

He then pushed off the door frame. “Let me grab a shirt that doesn’t have plaster on it,” he said. “Leave him here. He’ll eat somebody’s hot dog and start an incident.”

You laughed. “Okay.” You waited on the step while he disappeared inside and when he came back out he’d changed into a clean black t-shirt exposing the lean muscle of his arms. He pulled the door shut behind him and checked it was locked in a way that was more thorough than a suburban door really required.

You walked down his driveway and up your parents lawn. You opened the gate to the backyard where everyone was. You could sense some uneasiness in him with the way his jaw tensed.

Your dad clocked the stranger immediately, abandoned the grill for the first time all day, and shook Leon’s hand with the fervor of a man delighted to have a new audience for his flag. Your mom materialized with a plate before Leon had said ten words. Somewhere in the introductions you handed him a cold one from the cooler. You cracked another one for yourself, and by the time you’d steered him to a quieter corner of the patio he’d already been claimed, fed, and interrogated about his home renovations by three separate relatives.

“That’s my mom and dad who you just met,” nodding to your parents’ general direction. “Grill’s my dad’s whole personality this weekend. My mom is always making sure you have a full plate before you can refuse. The loud one by the cooler is my uncle, he’ll tell you he was almost a professional bowler. He was not. The kids are—” you scanned the shrieking pack currently orbiting the swing set. “Honestly I’ve lost track. Some of them are actually my family and some just showed up. We don’t ask questions.” You chuckled.

Leon took a pull of his beer and watched the chaos with an expression you couldn’t put a finger on.

“It’s a lot,” he said but it didn’t sound like a complaint.

“Yeah, it’s a lot, for sure.” you agreed. “You get used to it, though.”

“I like it.” He said it simply, and then seemed a little caught out by having said it and tried to cover it up by drinking again.

You leaned against the patio rail beside him, close enough that your shoulders were almost touching. You were both slightly apart from the crowd and the barbecue smoke drifted.

“So what’s the story,” you said. “You just moved out west. From where?”

“East, originally. Around, mostly. Work moved me a lot.” He said flatly. “I wanted to come out here. Always wanted to, honestly. For a long time.” He looked out at the mountains past the fence. “Never had the chance to.”

“And now you do?”

“Now I do.”

“Okay, but why the suburbs?” You said it lightly in a teasing way. “You could’ve gone anywhere out here. Mountains, the coast, a cabin in the middle of nowhere. And you picked a random suburb with an HOA.”

The corner of his mouth lifted up but when he answered, the humor had gone somewhere underneath it.

“I wanted normal,” he said. “For once.”

For once.

It was two words that sat there between the both of you. You took another drink. You wondered what he meant by that. Like normal was a thing he’d been priced out of for a long time. Like a boring street, with nosy neighbors and an HOA were a luxury other people took for granted and he was going into it deliberately, with intent, the way you’d buy something you’d wanted since you were a kid. You thought about the locked door he’d checked twice, and you decided it was better to not ask the question those things raised, because it was personal and you’d only known him for a few days.

Instead you said, “Well. You picked a good street for normal. Nothing ever happens here. The most exciting thing all year is whether my uncle is going to blow off a finger with the mortars.”

That surprised a real laugh out of him, short and warm, and you noticed the crinkle in his eyes that made your heart melt.

“I’ll manage my expectations," he said.

“Probably wise.” You knocked your glass bottle lightly against his. “Speaking of which, full disclosure, so you don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t actually live here.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just home for the week. Visiting. So. I’m not your new neighbor. I’m just the neighbor’s kid who ambushed you and dragged you to a party. I go home tomorrow.” You shrugged, keeping it easy, though you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to tell him.

Something flickered across his face, you couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or something else but whatever it was he tucked it away fast.

“Tomorrow.” He repeated.

“Tomorrow.”

“Good to know.” He looked at you a beat longer than the words needed, his pale blue gaze was steady, and then he tipped his beer back and looked away.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The afternoon continued on with the kids throwing pop its nearby and lighting whatever daytime monstrosities that were allowed. You ate way too much barbeque and so many desserts that you lost count. Poor Leon was roped into a conversation about grill temperatures with your dad and he managed to keep a straight face like he found the whole thing genuinely interesting. You caught him, twice, watching the kids, and once you caught him watching you, and neither of you looked away as fast as strangers should have.

Leon was easy to be around, which surprised you. He didn’t fill silence for the sake of it. When he said something funny it was dry and quiet and arrived when you least expected, so it kept catching you off guard, and you started angling to make him do it again. He drank slow. He was good with your uncle, who was a lot, letting the near-professional-bowler saga wash over him with the patience of a man who had clearly waited out worse. By the time the light started to slant gold and long across the yard you stopped narrating the party to him and started talking. About the drive out west, about the worst apartment you’d ever lived in, about a neighborhood dog he loved to visit as a kid, which was the only piece of his past he offered unprompted all day and which he offered carefully, like it was fragile.

The sky went from gold to amber to the deep blue that means the show’s about to start, and word went around, mostly via the kids, that it was time to move to the front yard.

You smiled at Leon and motioned your head to the front yard.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Everyone in your family migrated to the front yard. Lawn chairs were lined up in the driveway and grass. The cooler was relocated with great ceremony. Your dad set up a white folding utility table with mortars, fountains, sparklers and random little fireworks that you couldn’t quite name. Of course, your uncle appointed himself as co-director in a way your dad clearly resented but had no choice but to tolerate it.

You and Leon found a spot on the grass just by the sidewalk. You dropped down beside him, maybe a little too close to someone you just met. The warmth from his arm was nice against you and he didn’t seem like it bothered him. Your aunt put sparklers in the little kids’ hands, and the front yard filled with wobbling loops of white sparkling light. The kids were bouncing and shrieking as they wrote their names in the air that was too slow to read.

You got up and grabbed three sparklers from the table. “Here.” You lit one off of your nieces. “Write your name!” You swept the sparkler through the air in big looping cursive, and the light trailed behind your hand, the first letters were already fading to smoke by the time you reached the last.

Your niece tried it with her tongue between her teeth. She was still moving too slow with the letters dying before they connected, it was just a scribble of lines that dissolved in the dark. But she didn’t care, she did it again, faster while laughing.

You handed one of the sparklers to Leon. “Here.” He took it hesitantly. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re too cool for a sparkler.”

“I’m too old for a sparkler.”

“That’s not a real thing. Have some whimsy in your life Leon.”

He gave you a look of confusion. “Whimsy?”

“Yes, whimsy.” You smiled and held the lit end of your sparkler to his. He looked at you again and moved the sparkler through the air in a slow scrawl, and you watched the light trail his hand and burn out before he’d finished, and he said, deadpan, “See, it died before I got to the end. Symbolic.”

“You gotta work on your whimsy-ness, Leon.” You laughed, he almost smiled, and your sparkler fizzled out too and left that sharp burnt-metal smell hanging in the dark.

Then the first mortar went up.

It went with the deep gut-punch thump that you felt before you could hear, there was a beat of silence, and then the street cracked open into gold. The kids screamed. Your dad, out in the street, pumped a fist. Another went up, and another, red and then a strange greenish-white that hung and drifted, and the whole street tipped its face up.

You’d done this every year of your life and it still got to you, that first big one. You glanced sideways to see if it got him too, Leon’s face was turned up to the light, and for just a second, in the flash, he didn’t look careful at all. He just looked like a man watching fireworks. Then the light faded and his careful stare came back, but you saw it just for a moment.

“You want to shoot one off?” you asked.

He looked at you.

“Come on. My uncle is letting anyone who asks.” You were already standing, tugging his sleeve. “You seem like a guy who’s good with —” you gestured vaguely — “things that explode. I don’t know why. Vibe.”

Something in his face did that confused thing again.”Vibe,” he repeated.

You nodded and he let you pull him up.

Out in the street your uncle handed Leon the lighter with the gravity of passing on a sacred trust, and talked him through it at length despite Leon very obviously not needing to be talked through it. Leon crouched by the tube, lit the fuse in one clean motion, and stepped back at exactly the right distance before the thing screamed up and burst into a huge crackling willow of gold that pulled an “ohhh” out of the whole yard. He came back to you with the ghost of a grin he was trying to suppress, and you bumped your shoulder into his.

“You look like you’ve done that before.”

“Maybe once or twice.” He said smiling.

You did one too, mostly so he'd watch you do it, and he did, and you fumbled the lighter and when he caught your wrist to steady the flame it made your heart skip a beat. The mortar went up casting a myriad of sparkles and colors that lit up the street. You came back and sat down in the grass next to him even closer this time, your arm against his arm and neither of you moved away. The finale started building over the street, flashes of light, explosions overlapping the sky. The noise and the light made you extremely aware of every point where his body touched yours.

Leon didn’t know you well. It had been only a few days, one party and a handful of jokes. But he’d laughed more this afternoon than he could remember laughing in a while, and he liked your mouth when you were being a smartass, which was often. He liked that you didn’t ask too many questions or pry at his personal life. You just let him be a normal guy at a barbecue, which was one of the reasons why he moved two thousand miles away. He wasn’t thinking any of that in words. He was mostly aware that you were warm against his side and that you’d be gone tomorrow, and that both of those facts were becoming difficult to ignore.

The finale broke over the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, the sounds echoing and thundering through the suburbs, if it was any other holiday someone might mistake it as a warzone. Everybody was cheering and under the sparkles of light you turned your head and found Leon already looking at you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The party started to die down. The kids crashed. A few of the people down the street were popping off the last of their fireworks down the street. Chairs were folded and stowed away. The cooler was much lighter now and got hauled back around the house.

Somewhere in the winding-down you and Leon had drifted to the edge of it. Both of you were loose and easy after you had a couple more beers. The careful thing in him worn down soft by the beer and the night and your company.

“I should let you go,” You said not moving.

“Yeah,” he said and didn’t move either.

You stood there and looked down. You started rubbing circles over the lip of your beer, you really didn’t want to go. You wanted to know more about Leon. You were trying to think of a way to keep him around for the night but nothing came to you.

“Hey,” Leon said. “I could show you what I’ve been working on.”

Something inside you lit up and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Yeah.” a soft smile formed on your face. “I’d like that.”

You both made your way to his house next-door. You were walking down in the dark with him, the smell of gunpowder still hanging over the whole street, and his hand had found the small of your back at some point to steer you around a stray lawn chair. His hand stayed there warm through your shirt and it made your heart flutter.

His porch light was on. The dog lost its mind on the other side of the door and Leon shushed it through the wood and let you both in. The house was dark and half-torn-apart and smelled like sawdust and fresh paint, plastic sheeting hanging in the doorway to the gutted kitchen. He didn’t turn on many lights. He put the dog out in the fenced backyard and came back to find you standing in his half-finished living room among the drop cloths and the stacked tools. For a second you just looked at each other across the dark.

“So, you go back tomorrow,” he said.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” You nodded.

“Tomorrow.” he repeated, his voice was low. He crossed the room to you.

His hand came up to the side of your face, carefully and tenderly. “I know I just met you and you’re leaving but I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

You looked up at him meeting his gaze. You looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes. You grabbed at his t-shirt giving him the invitation. The first press of his mouth was soft like he was still questioning it. You hand moved to cup his jaw and pulled him in closer.

He kissed like he did everything else, unhurried and deliberate and then suddenly all the held-back care burned off. His hand slid back into your hair and tilted your head and kissed you deeply. You made a sound against his mouth unintentionally and he groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating into your chest. He backed you a few steps until your back hit the bare stretch of wall between the plastic sheeting and the front window, he crowded in close, one hand braced by your head and the other cupped warm at your jaw like you were something he was being careful of.

“This okay,” he said against your mouth, his voice a little gravely and rough.

“Yes, it’s okay.” You pulled him back into you by his shirt. “Stop being so careful.”

He huffed a laugh into the kiss and kissed you more fervently this time before pulling away again.

“Where are you going?” Leon asked.

“East coast, my job’s there.” You pulled him in again pressing your lips against his and tracing his bottom lip with your tongue. He responded by softly biting your lip and swiping his tongue against yours.

Leon went back kissing you deeply again. His hand left your face and found your hip. He pulled you off the wall and your pelvis was flush against his. You could feel the whole hard line of him, the heat coming off him through his jeans. Your hands went under his shirt to the warm skin of his back and he shuddered at that, involuntarily. He dropped his mouth to your jaw, your throat, he found the spot under your ear that made your breath catch. The sawdust smell, the dark and the far-off pop of somebody’s fireworks outside. Everything started to go a little blurry but in a good way. There was just his mouth and his hands and the low sound he made when you dragged your nails lightly down his spine.

He got the hem of your shirt in his fingers and you lifted your arms and let him take it off you, you were wearing a black lace bra. He looked at you with something dark, warm and unguarded, the same unguarded thing you saw during the fireworks. Heat pooled low in your stomach and you could feel yourself getting slick. You reached for his shirt and he let you pull it over his head. The man looked like a greek god, his abs were perfectly sculpted and you gazed down at the V that followed down to his jeans. You traced it with your fingers in the low light and hooked your finger into the waistband of his jeans.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

You nodded and started peppering kisses along his jaw and down his neck. The smell of him was something musky and cedary, it was intoxicating. You went back up to his lips and pressed harshly and he made a rough sound. He started walking you back toward the hall.

“Bed’s the one room I finished,” he murmured against your mouth. You let out a breathy laugh and let him lead you into the dark.

His bedroom was plain and half-unpacked. There was a bed and a nightstand. He laid you back and followed you down, taking his time now in a different way, the urgency was something slower and more deliberate. He was mapping you with his hands and mouth, learning what made you arch. He was kissing you while his hand trailed up to your breasts, his hand cupped your still clothed breast and you let out a soft breathy moan. His thumb brushed slow circles over the lace, teasing the peak of your nipple until it tightened under his touch. You arched into his palm with a soft, breathy sound, and he swallowed it in with another kiss. He kissed you deeper and slower like he was savoring every second.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you. The dim light from the hallway caught in his eyes, turning them darker and softer. “Still okay?” he asked, voice low and rough at the edges.

You smiled and nodded, fingers sliding into his silver-streaked hair at his temple. “More than okay.” You pulled him down. “If you ask me one more time I’m going home tonight.”

He grinned at you and dipped his head. His lips tracing down your throat, across your collarbone, and lower. He unclasped your bra with one hand, slid the straps down your arms, and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed. For a moment he just looked at your now bare breasts.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

Then his mouth was on you. It was warm, wet and gentle. He took one nipple between his lips and sucked softly, tongue flicking, while his hand cupped and kneaded the other. You gasped, hips shifting restlessly against the mattress. He took his time, moving between them, learning what made your breath catch, what made your fingers tighten in his hair. Every pull of his mouth sent sparks straight between your legs.

When he finally kissed lower down to the center of your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel. His hands were already at the button of your shorts. He unbuttoned them and hooked his thumbs in the waistband and drew both shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, helping you kick them off the rest of the way. Cool air kissed your bare skin before he settled between your thighs, big hands gentle as he parted them. He looked at you like something religious, like you were to be worshipped.

He then lowered his head.

The first slow drag of his tongue made your whole body jolt. He licked a long slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, circling a few times before sealing his mouth over you. You moaned, loud in the quiet room, one of your hands flew to his hair. He hummed against you in approval and did it again slower and firmer. He slid two thick fingers inside and curled them just right.

He worked you with patient, focused attention. Tongue flicking and sucking your clit in steady rhythm while his fingers thrust deep and steady, finding that spot that made your thighs start to shake. You could feel how wet you were and you could hear the soft obscene sounds from his mouth and fingers working you. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped like an explosion.

“Leon– oh— fuck—”

Your orgasm hit hard, back arching clean off the bed, a broken cry tearing out of you as your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers. He didn’t stop, he just gentled everything, soft licks and slow thrusts from his fingers carrying you through it until you were twitching and oversensitive. You were panting his name like a prayer.

He kissed his way back up your body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kissed you again. You reached down between you, found the hard line of him still trapped in his jeans, and palmed him through the denim. He groaned into your mouth, hips pushing into your hand.

You unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down with his boxers at the same time. His cock sprang free. It was thick and flushed dark at the head with some precum already gathered at the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroked him slowly from base to tip, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a rough sound.

“Careful,” he warned, voice strained. “I’ve been thinking about this since you showed up at my door.”

You smiled, stroked him again, firmer. “Then stop thinking.”

He caught your wrist gently, kissed the inside of it, then reached into the nightstand drawer. The condom packet crinkled. He rolled it on with quick practiced hands, then settled back over you, the heavy heat of him resting against your slick entrance.

He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself, teasing your clit with every slow pass. His eyes stayed locked on yours the whole time.

His thumb stroked your cheek and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. “Fuck me, please.”

He pushed in slow giving you every inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. The stretch burned in the best way, filling you completely until his hips were flush against yours. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel… amazing.”

You clenched around him experimentally and he groaned, low and deep in his chest.

He started to move with slow deep thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You met him with the roll of your hips, hands sliding up his back, feeling the flex of muscle under warm skin. He kissed you thoroughly, messy, deep, and sometimes just breathing warm against your mouth.

The rhythm built gradually, still controlled but growing more and more urgent. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together beside your head. The other gripped your hip, angling you just right so every thrust hit deep and perfect. The room filled with the wet sound of him moving inside you, the soft slap of skin, the occasional distant booms from outside and your shared gasps and low moans.

The pressure of his pelvis against your clit and that perfect angle hitting all of the right spots made your orgasm build faster than the first.

“Leon— I’m close—-”

He panted against your neck and slipped his hand between your bodies. His fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, steady circles in time with his thrusts.

It pushed you over. You came with a sharp cry, body locking up around him, nails digging into his back as pleasure crashed through you in long, rolling waves. He followed you soon after, his hips stuttering, a rough groan of your name against your shoulder as he buried himself deep and came, cock pulsing inside the condom.

For a long moment neither of you moved, just breathing together, hearts hammering. Then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom from the nightstand, and came back with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you gently, tenderly, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh, your hip and your stomach.

When he climbed back into bed he pulled you straight to his chest, one strong arm around your waist, the other stroking slow lines down your spine. He kissed your forehead, your temple, the corner of your eye.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, the same careful tone he’d used all night.

You nodded against his chest, tracing idle patterns over his heart. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.”

He held you closer, tucking your head under his chin. Outside, somewhere down the street, one last firework popped and fizzled. His fingers kept stroking your back in long, soothing passes.

After what felt like an hour cuddling in bed, you got up and grabbed your shorts and bra that were strewn on the floor. You threw them both on.

“You leaving?” Leon asked.

“Yeah, I gotta get up early in the morning. Don’t wanna miss my flight.”

“Ah.” he nodded and looked out the window like he was debating something.

You crawled back into the bed and asked for Leon’s phone. “Here let me put my number in your phone.”

Leon grabbed his phone from the nightstand and handed it to you. You put your number in with your name, you considered putting an emoji next to your name but decided against it.

“So. you’ll be back for Christmas?” He asked.

“Yes, Christmas.” You tried to hold back a smile but failed. "Feel free to text me though. I know it's not the same considering I'll be like two thousand miles away but I'd like to see the progress on the house."

"Oh, and here." You spotted your black lacy panties by the foot of the bed, scooped them up, and pressed them into his hand. "Consider it a housewarming gift."

Leon let out a breathy laugh and closed his palm around them. "Do you need me to walk you home?"

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t think much will happen from your front door to my parents’. But thank you.”

You slid off the bed again and made your way to the living room. Leon followed you shortly after with only his boxers on. You managed to find your t-shirt on the floor and Leon let the dog back inside. His paws scrambled on the slick hardwood and came tumbling towards you as you put your shirt back on. “Hey! I gotta go, buddy.” You scratched the top of his head and underneath his chin and gave him one final pat. Leon was smiling watching you but there was something behind it that didn't quite match the smile, or maybe he was just tired.

You reached for the front door and opened it. “Bye, Leon.”

“Bye.”

He closed the door behind you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

He watched you out of the window just to make sure you got home safely. When he saw that you closed the door to your parents house he let out a relieved sigh. He then leaned down to pet the dog that was lying at his feet.

"Hey.." he scratched the top of his head. "How does Buddy sound?"

The dog barked at Leon and rolled over.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I think Buddy is good too."

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #re9 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x yn #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil requiem #re9 leon kennedy

requiem01r

dilfzuku

𝐜𝐰. 375 words, gn!reader x leon kennedy, established relationship (married), post-requiem!leon

"Leon, look at this." You lean over, extending your arm to display the TikTok you'd just found.

Resting against the other arm of the couch was your husband, reading glasses slipping down his nose while his fingers tapped absent-mindedly against the spine of his book. He turned his head in your direction, craning his neck to set up a good angle to read whatever nonsense you were shoving in his face. With a sigh, he set the book down and shifted in place, getting comfortable again. He pulled his head back, furrowed his brows, and squinted at the screen. You couldn't help but let out a laugh.

Immediately, his eyes left the screen and flew to you. After years of marriage and even more dating, he knew when you were laughing at him and not something else.

"What?" He questioned suspiciously. His voice was low and soft, the tone reserved for peaceful Sundays with just the two of you; no work or worries permitted in the calm before another grueling work week. You grinned and shook your head.

"You're just silly, that's all." His mouth twitched but he didn't badger you for a better answer, returning to his position of trying to read the text on the screen you were still holding up. He finally took your phone from you, holding it a considerable distance from his face.

You lifted your now-freed hand and ran your fingers through his gray-streaked hair while admiring his wrinkles—yes, the ones from his dorky phone-viewing frown, but also—from all the years of stress and fear and hopelessness. His shirt rode up a bit, letting you see a sliver of soft tummy between it and his boxers. How lucky you were to have him sprawled on the couch, not a care in the world, looking like a midwestern dad attempting to comprehend whatever it was the cool kids were up to online these days. And, you supposed, he kind of was.

He pulled his reading glasses from his face with one hand, passing back your phone with the other. He did not appear impressed.

"So who is Cheesy Michael and what's the deal with his door? This seems like a waste of time."

Leon was so unbelievably cute.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. i have not been locked into writing and i apologize my life has been get high, eat, watch tiktok, think about leon 😅

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

resident-kennedy49

Wingman // NSFW Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Summary: Leon’s been your perfect wingman, because there’s no way he could be anything else. Right? Right. Tonight, shit’s gonna go wrong. And then it’s gonna go so, so right.

WC: ~4.5k

CW: NSFW, minors DNI, you and Leon are friends, no mention of ages, no use of y/n, bar fight (loosely), mild jealousy, reader put in peril, implied attempted assault, reader is a strong independent woman, reader is injured, Leon patches you up, first time (together), oral (reader receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, smearing fluids, sort of aftercare (Leon is sweet and attentive), showering together

Notes: MINORS DNI

“You got eyes on your six.”

You shift your weight, canting your hip a touch more provocatively, leaned against the bar.

“Please. It’s at least a ten,” you say. Leon’s to your right, casual on a barstool, communication hidden behind his whiskey glass; you’re addressing him but looking down at your drink, stirring your fingers through the condensation. He’s got eyes on the rest of the bar, watching you in his periphery.

At least a ten. But he’s not going to say it. That’s not his place.

You sip at your drink. “Who?”

“Black jacket. Glasses,” he says.

You turn around, leaning your elbows against the bar. Black Jacket & Glasses is definitely watching you. Up and down.

You snag your bottom lip on your glass and watch him back. Up and down.

That'll do.

“Mm. Target acquired,” you say, and push off from the bar.

flirtingfawn

ᥫ᭡. ⋮ 𝒸𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁ℯ𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝘨𝓇𝓊𝓂𝓅𝓎 𝓇ℯ𝟺 𝓇ℴℴ𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓉ℯ .ᐟ 𝓁ℯℴ𝓃 .ᐟ

⤷ 𝓼𝓯𝔀. leon is a stray dog of a man. first kisses. 𝟸.𝟿𝓀

leon is overly tired and very grumpy. it’s no surprise really when he rolled home in the early hours of the morning, bruised and so battered from his recent assignment—spain, if you remember it correctly—but since then, he clearly hasn’t slept and his mood is suffering for it. so, you take it upon yourself to fix it for him

“hey, leon?” you call out softly from your spot on the couch and then wince when you hear a cupboard door slamming shut in the kitchen. he’s been banging around in there for a while and truthfully, you have no idea what he’s trying to accomplish and you find it best not to ask, “c’mere for a second, please,”

it takes a moment but eventually, he leans around the kitchen doorframe with a frown pulling at his brows. he looks exhausted, his eyes are sunken in and the dark circles that are discoloring the tops of his cheeks can’t even hide behind the blonde hairs that hang in front of his face, “what’s up?” he asks, grumbling

Trending Blogs

Last Seen Blogs

i’ll kiss the sun