猫び 𐙚⋆˚✿˖°

For a long time, Leon didn’t really care about the money.

At least not in the way normal people did, paying rent on time, investing in retirement, buying a decent pair of shoes that weren’t ruined by dirt or rain in European forests.

When he got “promoted”. Rookie cop turned into DSO golden boy, the numbers in his bank account jumped every year. Hazard pay. Overtime. Bonuses the size of someone’s mortgage.

He didn’t spend it.

Not really.

Sure, he did have obvious expenses, bullets, boots, bikes, bikes, yes, the Ducati in his garage, that one he did love, a testament to a fleeting impulse, a need for speed and control on open roads that felt like freedom. The cheap apartment he rented that he never called home, because home was just a launchpad for the next mission. Sometimes, he bought a better suit, something to make the meetings with the President feel slightly less like a farce.

But real spending? On himself? For himself?

Nah.

He told himself it didn’t matter. It felt absurd. The money was a monument to a future he was certain would never come.

He’d finish the mission. Cash the check. And what?

Buy another bike he’d probably total on a backroad? A bottle he’d forget he drank?

Sometimes, back then, he really didn’t see the point of making it to the next payday.

——

You didn’t fix him overnight. youd actually smack him if he ever said that out loud.

But you did show up.

Spain first. Then the cold archives rooms of the BSAA for whenever he needed data. Then the occasional classified overlap, “need an extra sniper, y/n? Send Kennedy. He won’t talk.”

It was always separate missions. Separate beds. Separate debriefs.

Until it wasn’t.

It started stupidly, as all important things in Leon’s life do.

You two had just come back from a mission you surprisingly had together in Virginia. Something about a small-time black market trader hawking G-virus samples like antique jewelry. you two spent three days underground, three more above, and by the time you guys staggered back to DC, you both looked like hell.

You ended up at his place, cause his fridge, unlike yours, actually had beer.

You sat at his cheap kitchen table, leg propped on another chair, taping up a sprained ankle. Leon leaned against the counter, still wearing his gun harness, scanning an unopened letter from his bank.

You caught him frowning at it. “Bad news?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Just my paycheck.”

You blinked. “You look like someone told you your cat died.”

Leon smirked. “If I had a cat, it would have run away by now.”

You snatched the envelope out of his hand, tore it open without asking.

Scanned the digits.

Whistled low. “Holy shit, Kennedy.”

He shrugged again, uncomfortable, defensive, and trying very hard to act nonchalant. “Hazard pay.”

you rolled your eyes. “Hazard pay?! This is retire-and-buy-a-lake-house money.”

Leon snorted. “What would I do with a lake house?”

you just smiled

“Maybe one day you’ll figure it out.”

——

His first “big” investment after he started dating you was actually small, grand stupidly small.

He was on a solo job in Chicago. Rain, again. He ducked into a shop while the city flooded around him. On the counter was a display case of simple watches, nothing fancy. Just clean, practical, a little sturdy.

The clerk asked, “Looking for something for your wife?”

Leon almost laughed. He mumbled, “Girlfriend,” before he could think about it too hard.

It was the first time he’d ever called you that out loud, even if nobody would hear him say it again for months.

The thing between you guys wasn’t complicated, you two just didn’t have the head and energy to give it a label, if he did thing about it though, you were his girlfriend.

He picked one with a slim leather strap, dark, elegant, exactly the kind of thing you’d mock him for fussing over.

When he got back to DC, he found you half-asleep on his couch, your laptop balanced on your stomach.

He slipped the watch on your wrist while you pretended not to wake up.

You teased him for it the next morning.

 “Look at you, big spender.”

But you wore it every damn day.

——

The next thing leon bought wasn’t for you, it was for him. Well, technically, for the both of you.

He found an apartment. Bigger. Nicer. A top-floor unit with actual windows that let in light. The kind of place that had space, not just for a bed and a half-dead houseplant, but with enough space for two people. There was room for your books and his record collection, for a kitchen table where you could actually eat a meal together.

Leon picked it out while you were halfway across Europe on a cleanup mission with the BSAA.

He tried to brush it off telling you it was practical, something useful for the both of you.

He presented it to you as a tactical decision. "Better security. Closer to the DSO hangar. Central location."

You didn't buy it for a second, your eyes scanning the open plan living room, the modern kitchen, the view of the city skyline, and the walk-in closet he'd already half filled with your things. You saw the bathroom with two sinks. And you didn’t argue, smiling happily and nodding to his words.

——

Okay, well, then, the Ducati was just for him, because he so deserved it.

That’s what Leon kept repeating to himself.

When the paperwork for the penthouse cleared, you pressed your mouth to his ear and murmured: “Don’t you think you’ve earned a toy?”

Well what a funny thing to say, uh? You just loved getting stuff inside his head, and, well, yeah, his actual one was slightly used and old, and what can a man do other than listen to his woman, right?

So he did what Leon S. Kennedy does best: found the meanest, sleekest bike on the market, handed over his card without blinking.

He swore he’d be careful.

you swore you’d never ride on it.

Both were lies, but good ones.

——

Now, as much as you loved the fact that Leon had actually gotten that bike for himself, you weren’t entirely a big fan of being in it.

The Ducati was a point of contention. You hated it. More specifically, you hated getting on the back of it, clinging to Leon as he took corners at a speed you considered “a blatant disregard for mortality.”

Did you think he looked absolutely hot and breathtaking while driving it by himself? Of course you did! Doesn’t mean you want to die tomorrow tho.

You’d been joking. Really. Just a throwaway line one night in bed, your hair in his face, your voice muffled into his chest: “I should get something fast. A real car. So you can stop bribing me onto that deathtrap Ducati.”

So he decided to solve the problem.

Two weeks later, he tossed you the keys.

It was sleek, gleaming, and so new it practically sparkled under the DC streetlights.

The plates already registered.

The insurance under his name.

You stared at him in the underground garage, hands on your hips, mouth open.

“You’re kidding.”

He just grinned, the same grin that got him out of trouble with half the world’s worst people. “You hate my bike. This is safer.”

“Leon, this is a Porsche”

He leaned in, dropped his mouth to your ear, and murmured “Drive it. Don’t worry about the gas. Just don’t scratch it, Kay?.”

A Porsche, and man, did you loved it.

Sometimes, when you’re both feeling like having a little more fun than usual, to go somewhere, you take the Porsche. He rides the Ducati. During this times, he’ll glance over at you at a red light, you hair pinned back, sunglasses on, utterly in your element behind the wheel, and he’ll give you a nod.

You’ll just smirk back and hit the accelerator the second the light turns green, leaving him behind to catch up.

Yeah, he’d think, twisting the throttle. Good money.

——

He’ll never admit it to anyone’s face, but these days, Leon doesn’t hate his paycheck anymore.

It’s not just hazard pay. It’s not blood hush. It’s not a leash.

At first, during the beginning of his big expenses, you’d feel somehow guilty, you’d know him from before, when he wouldn’t spend a single coin in “useless” stuff, which for Leon, usually meant anything that wasn’t a gun cleaning kit, you’d tease him about it, about him not letting you pay, about him getting you tuns of things.

“What am I, Kennedy? Your sugar baby?”

He’ll always grin, the real grin, the crooked grin he saves for you alone.

“No, sweetheart. You’re my retirement plan.”

The money didn’t buy the quiet moments tho, the ones that make him feel like he could be normal someday.

It didn’t buy the mornings where you curled into his side, warm under a cheap blanket, mumbling about his alarm clock being “a government conspiracy”.

It didn’t buy the nights you sat together on that big stupid couch, feet up, watching the sun sink behind houses and buildings across the city.

But the money did make it easier to keep those moments. To come home to them. To make a home worth coming back to.

A : Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’ll remain on top of you for a few minutes just to catch his breath before he gets up ( his knees and his back cracking back into place because he’s no longer in his 20s, and because he spent 15 minutes in one position pounding into you with abandon ) and grabs a wet towel to clean you up, and a bottle of ice cold water to share between the two of you. then come the teasing and the half-hearted jokes that you weakly laugh at, something along the lines of “you’re old, leon” and “should’ve seen me when i was 25”

B : Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite part about himself are his hands. capable of not only killing and protecting, but pleasuring as well. have you seen this man reload his guns? yeah! he knows what he’s doing, babes. he’ll curl them just right inside of you; slide them into your warm mouth while he fucks you from behind just to feel your wet tongue; gently curl them into your hair to pull you closer; carefully wrap his hand around your throat when you beg him to choke you, despite not wanting to hurt you, but he’s so eager to please you he’ll do whatever you ask him to, even if he doesn’t understand the appeal.

his favorite part about you is your back. the way your shoulder blades look when he’s hitting it from behind, the curve in your waist, the faint muscles and bones shifting beneath your flesh with each thrust from him. he loves how big his hand looks sprawled on your lower back, his other hand gripping your waist to pull you back onto him. he’ll go crazy for any backless dress you wear, and will refuse to keep his hands off of you for the rest of the night, no matter where you are.

C : Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he doesn’t want kids, his job simply doesn’t allow it and he’s made his peace with that in his late 20s, but that doesn’t stop him from finishing inside of you. the first time he fucked you raw and you begged him to come inside of you he absolutely lost it and finished within seconds shortly after. he loves it when you wrap your legs around his hips and practically force him to come deep inside you, even though he could easily break free. but he doesn’t want to, he’s right where he wants to be.

D : Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he feels pretty ashamed about this, but he’s jerked off to a picture of you before while away on a mission. he’d missed you so badly he couldn’t hold it together anymore, and when he finally got a break from running around like a madman with weapons strapped to his body, he was swiping through pictures of you in his car. at first it was just because he missed you, but then that one picture of you made his cock twitch in his pants and he just couldn’t help himself anymore.

E : Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

moderately experienced. he didn’t have more than maybe 2-5 sexual partners in his life, including a girlfriend when he was younger, but he learns fast. he thinks it all depends on the person you’re having sex with — what works with you might not work on someone else, but there is no one else. he gets the job done, does more than his age allows him, but then again he’s a 49 year old federal agent, jacked as hell. he’s good for his age, better than any man your age you’ve been with and that’s mainly because he pays attention and wants to make you feel good.

F : Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary when he hasn’t seen you in a while, or any position where he can be close to you and look into your eyes; cowgirl when he’s tired from work or he’s been teasing you all day; doggy when he really wants to give it to you. he doesn’t have a set favorite position, he’ll go with whatever is best in that moment. he enjoys showing you how strong he is because he noticed it gets you going, so if he had to choose he would say picking you up and fucking you in his arms until you’re screaming from overstimulation.

G : Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

leon can do both depending on his mood. if he’s been home for a while, he’ll make random comments between grunts that make you both laugh briefly. if he’s just returned from a mission, he’s more quiet, more focused on chasing his and your release, more focused on the way your skin feels against his because every time he leaves he thinks he won’t come back, and then somehow he does.

H : Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he used to keep that shit baaaald, but now he’s reached an age where he doesn’t care that much anymore. it’s trimmed, definitely, because he doesn’t want any mishaps happening when you have his cock in your mouth. he doesn’t care if you’ve shaved or not, according to him “a real man isn’t afraid of exploring the jungle” you’re pretty sure it was chris who taught him that.

I : Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s very intimate, whether he’s fucking you hard and fast or slow and soft, it doesn’t matter. he’ll have your hips in his strong hands, just ploughing into you, but then he’ll lean down and pepper kisses down your spine so softly it’ll give you whiplash. and when he’s being soft — intertwining your hands, planting them next to your head, his face buried in your neck, his strong chest and his glistening abs against your skin while he rolls his hips into you passionately, panting right by your ear and whispering your name like a prayer.

J : Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he does it a healthy amount. he’s often horny, especially since getting together with you, but he has good self control and can just ignore or postpone it until it’s more appropriate and/or he has more time. sometimes, though, he’ll jerk off in the shower thinking about you while you’re downstairs preparing dinner for the two of you, just so he can last longer later when he bends you over the counter.

K : Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he loves it when you beg, and he loves to beg for your pussy. just begging in general, it really gets him going. he’ll tease you for hours, sometimes throughout the day if you’re both home, act oblivious about it, feign concern for you when you react to the way he grabs your thigh while you’re watching a movie in the afternoon “are you okay, honey? do you need something?” while he knows exactly what you need, he just wants to hear you beg for it. he always wins — you end up naked on his lap while he’s still fully dressed, wet with drool, begging him to do with you as he pleases.

in return you make him beg for your pussy, and he gladly does so with his hands tied behind a chair, you straddling his lap, the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Please, sweetheart, let me fuck you.”

you might’ve called him daddy once or twice, it might’ve just slipped out — and he might’ve liked it.

L : Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere around the house. there’s not a place you two haven’t had sex yet. bedroom, shower, at the window, on the balcony, in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the living room, in his office, in the gym, in his weaponry closet, in your closet, in the laundry room, in the basement. literally everywhere. but his favorite (apart from the obvious answer being your bedroom) is the shower, where he lifts you into his arms and drills into you at a pace you didn’t think possible for his age.

M : Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

look at him suggestively and his on his knees for you like a dog. your hand on his chest? god, he’s hard. playing with his hair absently while you’re watching a movie? forget the damn movie, who gives a shit. a dress that’s shorter than usual? “let’s go back home, honey… i miss being alone with you” he’ll put an arm around your waist and lead you back out to his car. you won’t even make it home — he’ll pull over somewhere and bend you over in the backseat, both of you still fully clothed “driving me crazy in this skimpy little dress. is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” he’ll utter breathlessly while he fucks you. he’s such a desperate old man.

N : No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he’s witnessed so many horrors nothing really phases him, but he would absolutely refuse to do anything that could seriously harm you. choking, okay, but choking until you’re passed out? absolutely not, it would freak him out thinking he gave you brain damage. he’ll engage in a bit of slapping here and there if you beg for it, but never too hard, never in a way where you don’t end up smiling up at him with a pink cheek, coaxing him to fuck you harder.

O : Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he genuinely doesn’t care if you suck him off or not. he’ll appreciate it when you do, but it’s not something he enjoys as much as being inside your pussy. but eating you out? he’ll beg for it. he’ll be downright annoying about it. you’ll use excuses like you haven’t showered or you’re on your period, thinking it will work. it never does. he doesn’t care, he’ll place a towel down and eat your pussy until your squeezing your thighs and pushing his head.

P : Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

slow and sensual, extremely intimate and strangely quiet when he’s back from an exhausting mission; fast and rough when he’s back to his normal self. he knows exactly how to fuck you good, the exact pace, where to grab you, what to say and when to say it.

Q : Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he’s a busy man. sometimes quickies are all he can give you. he doesn’t like it that much, prefers to really take his time and savor it, but sometimes you’re so needy he can’t help but give it to you before he has to go to work. he’ll make up for it by rushing through the streets, ignoring most traffic laws. he’s always been a little reckless behind the wheel, anyway.

R : Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he has never downright said no to something before hearing you out, unless it was too dangerous. you’ve asked him to use one of his guns before during sex for the thrill of it, and you had to sit and listen as to why that’s a bad idea and why he won’t do it. “but babe!” — “it doesn’t matter if it’s unloaded, babe. i’m not fucking you with my gun.” it’s still always worth a try. who knows, a few days later he might say fuck it, let’s try.

S : Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he used to be able to go multiple rounds with 10 minutes in between, and go on for literal hours. but now he’s a little older and he fought off a virus not too long ago. the years of missions are taking a toll on him. but don’t get it wrong, he’s not the average man. he might need a longer break in between and lie on his back breathlessly after he rolls off of you “give me a second to catch my breath, sweet girl, and then I’ll give you what you want.” he signed up for this after all. he can go max 3 rounds before he’s got nothing else to give.

T : Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no toys. he finds it almost offensive. why should a toy get to make you feel good? at most he’ll use a vibrator on you if you ask him to, doesn’t mind it once he sees you trembling underneath him and clenching around his cock and whining his name like you do when he eats you out. that’s about it. you would have to ease him into more stuff. next thing he would agree to is a dildo for double penetrating but at that point “you’re just too damn greedy, honey.”

U : Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s a major tease. literally demonic about teasing you, at times it’s scary how good he is at it. cheesy jokes that only land half the time, little to no rizz when you two first met, thought he’s too old for you, but teasing? don’t even joke about it. don’t even think about teasing him when you’re out somewhere, because he’ll tease back 10 times better. the eye fucking alone will have you texting him begging him to take you home and fuck you stupid. he won’t, not until you’re dripping wet for him. and worst thing is, he knows he’s good at this.

V : Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

have you heard this man? he can’t shut up for more than 5 mins. he doesn’t necessarily talk you through it, it’s more like he’s talking to himself or making random comments here and there. definitely not ashamed to make some noise. loves to moan right by your ear; hisses when his cock slides into your tight pussy; deep groans and low grunts when he’s coming. he’s not afraid to be heard.

W : Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves it when you’re naked while he’s fully dressed, or the other way around. something about how vulnerable it feels makes him hard. he also has a thing for you dominating him. he won’t submit fully, but he finds it endearing when you think you’re in control, so he’ll play the part for a while before he flips you over to show you how it’s really done. he’ll mock you about it “is my girl getting tired? (…) it’s cute how you think you’re in control, sweetheart.”

X : X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

it’s not absurdly big, but definitely above average. what he misses in length he makes up for in girth. the first few times you had sex it borderline hurt until you got used to him.

Y : Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

low because he’s a ptsd riddled depressed suicidal man pushing 50, UNTIL he’s around you. suddenly he’s a 25 year old horny man who can’t keep his hands to himself. the horrors are forgotten, only pussy remains.

Z : Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)