“Leeeon…” you dragged out, resting your chin on his chest, doing your best to give him wide, pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he grumbled, already suspicious. His brows pulled together just a little more.

“Maybe we could go shopping today? We’ve been putting it off for so long…” your voice was sweet, innocent, your finger tracing small, teasing patterns over his chest.

“Honey, it’s late,” he replied evenly, tossing the last of the peanuts into his mouth.

“Leon, it’s six,” you said flatly.

He took a slow breath, blue eyes drifting over your face in quiet consideration. You knew he couldn’t say no. He just needed a little push. “We have to go eventually anyway. Might as well get it over with. And the sooner we go, the sooner we’re back,” you added, seeing you had his attention. “And I’ll make you muffins tonight, promise.”

To sell it further, you shifted closer, bracing yourself on your hands – your neckline dipping just enough to reveal the curve of your breasts. Leon’s eyes dropped instantly. He swallowed. He couldn’t help it. His hand was already on your backside, a low sound leaving him in response. “Besides, you said you’d finally fix the bed frame. It’s about to fall apart.”

“I’ll fix it. Don’t need a shopping trip for that, sweetheart,” he muttered, still very much focused elsewhere.

“Yes, you do. You lost the allen key.”

“I didn’t lose it.” He finally, reluctantly, met your eyes. The triumphant smile on your face said everything.

“Then where is it?” you asked, expectant, your hand sliding along his jaw.

In response, you felt his hand slip beneath your neckline – before you could even react to scold him for thinking this was a valid way to distract you from the pressing issue, he pulled out a peanut from between your breasts and popped it into his mouth. Then he slid you off him and stood up with a stretch.

“…We’ll buy a new one,” he sighed.

You just laughed, stepping closer and tugging him down by the collar so you could press a quick kiss to his cheek – then darted off to the bedroom to get changed.

***

You had to admit – it took longer than you planned. But at least you got everything you needed… and a few things you didn’t. You walked down the street as dusk settled in, the city still buzzing with people. While you were both ready to retreat into the quiet comfort of your apartment, for others the night was just beginning.

Leon walked beside you obediently, arms full of shopping bags, a backpack slung over his shoulder – the one he insisted on keeping in the car “just in case.” He’d been right. You’d filled it nearly to the brim after stepping into a candle shop. All that was left was the hardware store just around the corner.

“Leon, look how pretty!” you blurted, grabbing his arm as you pressed yourself against a shop window, captivated by the display of hand-painted porcelain.

“Babe…” he started calmly, already knowing where this was going. “Our cabinets can’t fit another cup.”

“I’ll just look, I promise! Can I go in for a second?” you said, far too enthusiastically. You could see him physically fighting himself. “You go grab that screwdriver thing and we’ll meet right here, then straight to the car. Scout’s honor.”

“Fine… just a minute,” he gave in.

But seeing how tired he looked, weighed down with bags, you didn’t want to drag it out. “Go get the tools. It’ll be faster – we’ll meet right here, okay?”

He hesitated, clearly reluctant. “Don’t get lost,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice, his gaze soft.

“Me? You’re the one who disappears,” you shot back, winking before slipping inside.

You drifted between shelves lined with delicate porcelain, already thinking of how you’d make Leon’s evening a little nicer as a thank-you. He’d handled today surprisingly well – patient, even offering opinions on curtain colors despite clearly seeing no difference between them. Then your eyes landed on a cup. A delicate, hand-painted piece – slightly asymmetrical, with soft glaze pooling in the grooves of fine blue patterns. You couldn’t help yourself. Your hands reached for it before you even fully decided. Leon was right – you had enough. But handmade things were your weakness. And really… would one more make a difference?

You wandered a bit longer, mentally noting which plate sets might fit your kitchen someday – far in the future, of course. At the register, you paid, the cup carefully packed into a small box and paper bag. Stepping back outside, you paused by the display again, leaning in to look at a mug you hadn’t noticed before – covered in little bees and lavender. Cute.

You smiled to yourself, already hearing Leon’s inevitable comment.

Then you felt it – a firm hand on your hip, a solid presence behind you, warmth near your ear.

“Leon! Not here–” you laughed instinctively, surprised at the boldness.

“We can move somewhere more private, pretty thing,” came a rough voice.

Your stomach dropped. That wasn’t Leon.

You turned sharply. A stranger stood there, clearly out of it, a stupid grin on his face. Two more hovered nearby.

“Don’t touch me,” you said firmly, knocking his hand away and stepping back.

He didn’t back off. His gaze dragged over you, slow and disgusting.

“Why so tense, pretty? You looked like you were asking for it. I can take care of you better than your boyfriend.”

Laughter behind him.

“I said leave me alone,” you snapped, moving to pass him – only to be grabbed roughly by the wrist and yanked back. The force made you drop the bag. Porcelain shattered against the pavement. His breath hit your face – stale, foul.

Adrenaline surged, your pulse roaring in your ears.

“You stick your ass out and now you’re playing hard to get?” he sneered, lifting your wrist, holding you in place.

You forced yourself to think. Fast. One good kick–

You didn’t get the chance.

The man vanished from in front of you. You had to turn your head to see him slam into the pavement, face-first.

Leon stood where he’d been, already between you and the others.

“Get him!” one of them shouted, rushing him.

The swing was wide and sloppy. Leon stepped aside before it landed, caught his wrist mid-motion, and twisted – sharp and sudden. The man folded, his arm wrenched behind his back as Leon forced him down onto the pavement, cheek pressed harshly against the ground. Leon glanced at the third one – who immediately backed off, muttering and retreating.

You stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened, feeling like you hadn’t even managed to blink. Leon moved in complete silence, his expression tight, his movements controlled and precise.

When the first man who had grabbed you started to push himself up with a groan, Leon was on him in an instant. He grabbed him by the back of his collar and hauled him up. You saw blood running from his nose and mouth as Leon lifted him, and you were almost certain he spat two teeth onto the ground.

Holding him firmly, Leon dragged him a few steps along the sidewalk and hissed through clenched teeth:

“Apologize to her.” his voice cold, commanding.

The man looked at you, dazed, coughing up blood. You noticed Leon’s grip on his shirt was so tight his knuckles had gone white, lifting him so high that his knees weren’t even touching the ground anymore – hovering inches above the pavement.

Not out of reflection, but fear, you heard him mutter a slurred “sorry, we were just messing around.”

After that, Leon threw him aside and didn’t look at him again. He immediately turned to you.

“You okay?” he managed, grabbing your face with both hands and scanning you for any sign of injury.

His eyes were wide, panicked. His breathing heavy, and you knew it wasn’t from exertion. You grabbed his wrists, exhaling slowly, still trying to process what had just happened.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, catching a glimpse of the man with the broken nose pulling himself up and stumbling away.

“Are you hurt?” Leon continued, this time taking your hand and running his thumb over the bruise forming on your wrist, left from the way you’d been grabbed. His brows were deeply furrowed, his jaw clenched – and you saw it tighten even more as he looked over your hands.

“No, Leon…”

“I saw him touch you. If I’d been a second later…” he cut himself off. When it hit him, you saw him swallow hard. He moved his hands to your ribs, holding you like letting go might make you fall apart.

Even though you were scared, you tried your best not to show it. The entire situation had lasted only seconds, but seeing Leon like this frightened you more than the men who had approached you. You saw the fury in him, one he was barely holding back. When your eyes moved over his frame, you noticed he was trembling slightly.

“I had it handled,” you continued calmly, “I was about to kick him in the balls.”

But it didn’t seem to work on him. He pulled his hands back, stepped away, and glanced over his shoulder as if checking whether anyone else was nearby – aside from the confused passersby. He rubbed his face, fingers pressing in like he was trying to reset himself.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he said flatly, coldly, more to himself than to you.

For a moment, you didn’t see Leon – you saw the agent. The one from missions. Tense posture, alert gaze scanning the surroundings, movements precise and controlled. Except this version of him was unraveling because of you; something that mattered more to him than any mission, something that outweighed everything else.

You knew that if you didn’t pull him back now, he’d sink deeper into guilt – and you didn’t want that. You closed the distance and grabbed the edges of his jacket, tugging slightly just to get his attention – there was no way you could physically move him otherwise.

“Seriously. One more second and he’d have had trouble walking.”

His gaze stayed lowered, fists clenched.

“Leon.” You waited until he finally looked at you. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

His eyes met yours – shaken, guilty.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his forehead to yours. You stood like that for a moment, feeling his breathing slowly steady. Your touch always worked.

“Let’s go home.”

“Yeah.”

You kissed his cheek, then let him pick up the bags he had dropped when he saw you.

You bent down for your own purchase – only now realizing the cup was in pieces.

“My cup…” you muttered, peering into the bag, confirming there was nothing left to save.

Leon stepped up beside you, both hands full of shopping bags.

“Come on.”

You thought he meant the car.

Instead, he walked up to the shop and pressed his shoulder into the door, pushing it open. He stood in the doorway, holding it for you, nodding with his chin for you to go inside.

***

You placed two new cups and a set of plates into the trunk – something Leon would normally complain about, yet this time he had been the one to press them into your hands. You didn’t object. One, because you could never resist beautiful porcelain. Two, because you knew he needed even a small sense of control back after what had happened.

You were glad he had calmed down a bit, seeing your excitement again as you moved between shelves of your favorite things, reassuring him without words that you were okay.

His hand stayed on your thigh the entire drive home, his fingers intertwined with yours. He was holding you a little too tightly. You talked about waiting for a warm, sunny day so you could sit on the terrace and drink coffee from your new floral cups.

“Leon? It’s green,” you said softly when you noticed he still hadn’t moved.

He turned his head toward you just as a horn sounded behind you. He flinched and pulled forward too quickly, tires briefly squealing. He was still somewhere else. Still scanning – mirrors, surroundings, everything.

“I should’ve–” he started, but let out a breath and didn’t finish, shaking his head slightly.

“Hey. I’m right here,” you interrupted, trying to cut through the spiral in his head. “You can stop buying me the entire store now.”

This time you gently squeezed his hand, feeling the tension slowly leave his grip.

***

You moved around the kitchen, preparing batter for blueberry muffins, the smell of freshly brewed coffee drifting through the air as it filled the space. Leon had disappeared into the bedroom a while ago to tighten the bed frame. You hummed under your breath as you poured the batter into the molds. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Leon leaning in the kitchen doorway, shoulder against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was warm, though slightly distant, lost in thought.

“Come here, what are you waiting for?” you smiled, holding your arms out for him.

“Didn’t want to startle you,” he said calmly, but seeing you were clearly waiting, he pushed himself off the frame and walked over. There was a faint, almost shy smile on his face, his brows slightly furrowed – you knew why.

You pressed yourself against him, his body large, warm – and still a little tense. His hands settled on your back, stroking gently, his nose brushing into your hair as he breathed you in, grounding himself. You wrapped your arms around him too, slipping both hands into the back pockets of his sweatpants, pulling him closer against you.

“Bed fixed?” you asked, tilting your head up, brushing your nose against his chin.

“Yeah. Ready for us to break it again.”

You let out a quiet laugh, reluctantly pulling away when the oven beeped. You slid the tray of muffins inside. Leon leaned back against the counter, watching you in silence.

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that,” he said quietly, his tone shifting.

“But I didn’t. You were there,” you answered immediately, sincere, without hesitation, turning to him. “Lower your head.”

A little thrown off, he did as you said, leaning down. You cupped his face, brushing both thumbs over his brows before pressing a slow, lingering kiss between them.

“Don’t frown.”

He let out a quiet, low chuckle. Then he dropped his head further, resting his forehead against your shoulder, arms hanging loosely at his sides in a rare gesture of surrender. You were glad that after all these years, you’d learned exactly how to disarm him, how to calm him down.

“...Well, at least we’ve got enough plates for the next ten years.”

“I still dream of one more cup, you know? The one with the bees.”

“No.” His hands were already on your hips.

“What if I win it?”

He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously. “How?”

You reached past him, grabbing a few blueberries left over from baking. Rolling one between your fingers, you stepped back a few paces. “If you catch them, we don’t buy it. If you miss, even once – I get it next time.”

Without waiting for his answer, you tossed one at him. He dipped slightly at the knees and caught it in his mouth, giving you an unimpressed look.

“You’re cheating.”

You didn’t respond – just threw another, higher and to the side this time. Leon shifted with it, tilting his head, the berry bouncing off his nose before dropping neatly into his mouth anyway.

“Okay, last one. If you miss, I win.”

This time you gave him a moment. You saw him adjust his stance, legs slightly apart, knees bent, cracking his knuckles as he focused entirely on your hand.

You wound up – and then casually tossed the berry behind you. It disappeared out of sight, somewhere toward the living room.

You snorted, seeing his expression as he slowly straightened, shaking his head in warning.

“You’re getting old, big boy. Zero reflex,” you laughed, clearly pleased with yourself. But when Leon – unfazed – started walking toward you slowly, you immediately reconsidered and turned to bolt for the living room.

He followed.

You shot out of the kitchen, barely managing to slow down as you veered toward the couch, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. He caught it midair and tossed it aside. There was a predator’s smile on his face. Instinctively, you grabbed another, jumping onto the couch and holding it up in surrender.

Just as expected, Leon ripped that one out of your hands too and tossed it away – then dropped his full weight onto you, pinning you beneath him. Before you could react, you were flattened under his broad, muscular frame. You squealed helplessly for a moment before managing to free your arms and wrap them around his neck, pulling his head down, pressing his cheek against yours.

Leon went still, waiting for your next move, but you stayed exactly like that, unmoving.

“Trying to put me in a hold, or…?” he rumbled.

“I don’t know…” you replied in a mock-offended tone.

He lifted his head with ease, looking down at you. For the first time in hours, there was something softer in his eyes – pure fondness, a flicker of amusement.

“You’re lucky, Mrs. Kennedy, that I have a soft spot for you…” he murmured, brushing a kiss to the corner of your lips, making you smile instantly. “But you’ll have to try harder if you want to have me wrapped around your finger.”

“I don’t need new techniques, mister. You know I’ve got you without using force,” you shot back, raising a brow, a smug smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh… right,” he said slowly, shifting slightly so he wouldn’t crush you. He kissed your cheek, then your neck, then both of your collarbones. When you tried to grab his hand, he was quicker – capturing yours and pressing quick kisses from your wrist up to your arm.

“Leon… what are you–”

“Worshipping my wife,” he answered simply, not stopping. When he finished with your arm, his kisses turned aimless – your temple, your nose, your chin, never in any pattern – while his other hand poked teasingly at your stomach, making you squirm and laugh beneath him.

“Ow, at least take the screwdriver out, you’re jabbing me,” you said between laughs when he tugged lightly at your earlobe with his teeth.

“That’s not a screwdriver.”

Of course it wasn’t.

“Seriously–” you started, but couldn’t keep a straight face.

“What can I say? You’ve got me wrapped around your finger,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, taking your hand and guiding it down along his chest and stomach.

As much as you were enjoying this spontaneous moment, you knew exactly how this usually ended – last time it meant a burned dinner and airing out the kitchen for an hour.

“Hey, we need to keep an eye on the muffins…” you tried to remind him, though there was no real resistance in your voice. The warmth of his breath and his mouth on your skin was more than enough to make you want more. Obviously, he could unravel you just as easily – you just weren’t about to admit that out loud. He’d use it against you. Like he didn’t already.

“You just put them in. We’ve got time. Give me ten minutes,” his hand slipping under your shirt, spreading over your stomach.

“Oh? Efficient. You sure that’s enough time?” you teased, your finger hooking absentmindedly into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Sweetheart, I meant for me,” he replied, then, as if considering it, added, “for you… I’d need five. Max.”

Feigning offense, you smacked his shoulder with your free hand. “You don’t know that–”

Before you could finish, your pants were already halfway down your thighs.

Of course he does.

"Mmm, you smell so good.” Before you pulled back slightly resting your chin on his chest to look into his eyes. You studied his face with a theatrically confused look on your face. “Y’know, you look Like... like...Like my husband. Who I love. Did you know I have the hottest husband in the whole world?"

"You might've mentioned it," he said, trying to hide his smile as he kicked the door shut behind you. "About fifteen times on the drive home."

"Only fifteen?" You frowned, genuinely concerned. "That's not enough. You're so—" You poked his chest emphatically with each word. "Fucking. Hot. Leon."

He caught your hand before you could poke him again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's get you some water, Okay?"

But you had other ideas. Your free hand slid down his torso, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "Or... we could skip the water and get wet in other ways."

"Water first," he said firmly ignoring your lewd suggestion, though his eyes had darkened slightly. He guided you toward the kitchen, keeping one arm around you because you kept veering off course and stumbling over nothing. When you rounded the corner and almost knocked your wedding pictures off the wall, he had enough and bent down, scooping you up to throw you over his shoulder, one hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack that made you yelp.

"Leon!" you squealed, but you were grinning and laughing as he carried you toward the kitchen. Your hands immediately mischievously slid down his firm back to grab his ass in return, squeezing a handful shamelessly.

"Mrs. Kennedy," Leon said, his voice strained with barely contained laughter. "Please keep your hands to yourself."

"No," you said simply, squeezing again for emphasis. He shook his head before he reached back behind him to gather both of your wrists to hold them captive, he was still grinning as he carried you toward the kitchen. You pouted the whole way there, then immediately perked up when he deposited you onto the counter, standing in-between your legs. "Ooh, I like this." You said wrapping your legs around his waist before he could step away, pulling him close. "No! Stay." you immediately lunged forward, trying to steal a kiss.

"I need to get you water," he said, but he didn't move after that, his hands settling on your thighs.

"Don't care." You cupped his face in both hands, studying him. "Your eyes are so pretty and I love your face." You traced his bottom lip with your thumb. "Everything about you is pretty. How did I get so lucky?"

His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "I'm the lucky one."

"Don't you know the saying that the wife is always right," you insisted, tightening your legs around him. "You're stuck with me now. Forever. You married me. No takebacks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, reaching past you to grab a glass from the cabinet. You took advantage of his proximity to kiss his neck, your hands sliding under his shirt.

Leon caught you by the shoulders, holding you at arm's length. "Water first."

"Kiss first," you counter offered, trying to lean around his hands.

"Water," he repeated not coming down from his initial starting offer, he drove a hard bargain and you couldn't talk him down. You pouted dramatically as he stepped over to the sink, swinging your legs and watching him. Your eyes never left him as he filled the glass, tracking every movement like a cat watching a bird out the window. You made another grab for him wrapping around him like a koala, nipping at his neck as he tried to fill the glass.

"Baby," he said, his voice strained as he filled the glass with water. "You need to drink water."

"I need to drink you," you said, then dissolved into giggles at your own terrible line. "Get it? Because you're a tall glass of—"

"I got it," he said, laughing despite himself. He pressed the glass into your hand. "Drink."

"You're trying to waterboard me," you whined, but you took a sip anyway, never breaking eye contact. The moment you swallowed, you set the glass down and reached for him again. "There. Water. Now kiss."

"More water," he said, fighting back a smile as he pushed the glass back toward you. You took another exaggerated sip, then another, then drained half the glass in one go. "Happy?"

"With you? Always," he said sweetly and you almost melted into a puddle on the counter, he stepped between your legs letting you wrap them around his waist.

You immediately cupped his face, pulling him close. "I love you so much," you breathed, suddenly serious despite the alcohol buzzing through your system. " You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and you're so good to me. Even when I'm being silly."

His expression softened completely, and he leaned his forehead against yours. "You're always a little silly. That's why I love you." he said softly, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"Don't be so sweet to me," you said, your voice wobbling, overwhelmed by the alcohol and emotions. "I'll cry."

"Can't help it," he said, kissing the tip of your nose. You pulled him into a messy and enthusiastic kiss, he could taste the sweetness of the coconut and milk and sour tang of pineapple from the Piña colada’s you'd been drinking. He kissed you back just as thoroughly, one hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip.

When you finally broke apart, both of your chests were heaving, breathing hard. You grinned at him, feeling floaty and warm and so, so in love with the man Infront of you, taking such good care of you even though you were making it your mission to make it as difficult as possible. "Take me to bed?"

"To sleep," he clarified stubbornly, though his voice was a little rough after the kiss.

"Sure," you agreed easily, knowing you'd try to change his mind the second you got there. "Whatever you say, handsome."

He shook his head fondly and scooped you up, carrying you toward the bedroom while you peppered his jaw and neck with kisses, your hands never quite managing to stay to yourself. 

The mattress bounced as you flopped onto it, sprawling out like a starfish before you started making sheet angels in the dark navy bed sheets. Leon stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with an exasperated but completely smitten look, he couldn’t even try and hide it.

"Don't move," he said sternly pointing to you like you were a unruly dog, before heading to the bathroom.

"Can't promise anything," you called after him, already rolling onto your side and nearly tumbling off the bed. You caught yourself at the last second, giggling. Your dress was rucked up and bunched around your waist, your whole ass out as you rolled over and mashed your face directly into his pillow, letting a drawn-out moan at his scent. Breathing in the notes of the honey and vanilla of the new detergent you just bought, mixed with his own woodsy shampoo that was still lingering on the fabric. 

He returned with a makeup wipe, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His hand reached up and gently pulled your dress back into place where it had ridden up, his palm coming to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing along your curves.

"Come on, sit up for me," he said softly, his other hand sliding to your back to help you.

You pushed yourself upright with his help, swaying slightly, and when you saw the makeup wipe in his hand your whole face lit up.

"You remembered!" you said, your words slurring together in your excitement. "You're the best husband ever. I hate waking up with crusty makeup. It's so gross and my face feels all—" You made a disgusted noise, scrunching up your nose.

"I know," Leon said, his expression fond. "That's why I'm doing this."

"You're perfect," you sighed, crawling toward him on your hands and knees, aiming to look seductive and enticing but coming off more like Bambi as you overshoot and bumped into his chest. "Oops." You said laughing as you melted into his chest and he took all of your weight holding you up as he went to clean your face.

"Yeah, oops," he said, his arm coming around your waist to hold you up, while bringing the wipe to your face with the other.

The cool, damp cloth touched your cheek, and you immediately started complaining as he wiped your lips off. "Mmhhhnn!"

"Hold still," Leon said, his voice patient as he cupped the back of your head to keep you in place trying to be even more gentle then before. "You'll thank me in the morning."

"I won't," you insisted, even though you knew he was right, squirming as he wiped away your mascara and eyeshadow. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"Mm-hmm." He tilted your chin up, carefully cleaning around your eyes. "So cruel. Taking care of my drunk wife." You tried to protest again but he was already moving to your other eye, his touch gentle despite your fussing. When he finally pulled the wipe away, now thoroughly covered in foundation and mascara. Once he was done you puckered your lips expectantly, eyes still closed.

When nothing happened, you cracked one eye open to find him watching you with barely suppressed amusement. Then his hands came up to squish your cheeks together, making your lips pucker even more before he leaned in and gave you the tiniest quickest peck, releasing you.

"That's it?" you demanded sadly. "That's all I get?"

"That's all you get until you're in bed," he said, standing and moving to the dresser. He pulled out one of his old t-shirts, your favorite one to sleep in. You made grabby hands at it, but when he tried to help you out of your dress, you went completely limp. "Can't move. Too drunk. Guess I have to sleep like this."

"Nice try." He maneuvered your arms out of the sleeves despite your best efforts to be as unhelpful as possible, flopping around like a fish out of water. When he finally got the dress off and tried to put the shirt on you, you suddenly had the energy to twist away.

"Wait, I changed my mind. I want the blue one."

"This is the blue one."

"The other blue one."

"You're wearing this one," Leon said firmly, catching you around the waist and wrestling the shirt over your head. You emerged from the neck hole with your hair sticking up in every direction, and he smoothed it down with a fond shake of his head.

The second you were dressed; you threw yourself backward onto the mattress, like a Victorian lady with a fainting spell. You flung one arm over your eyes; the back of your other hand pressed to your forehead.

"My husband doesn't love me anymore. He's so mean. He forces me to drink water and wear shirts to bed. And he won't ravish me like I know he wants to."

Leon couldn't help but laugh, if there was one thing his wife was when she was drunk, it was honest.

"Sooo tragic," you continued, your voice dripping with drama. "Death from no Snu-Snu."

You peeked out from under your arm to watch as he pulled his own shirt off to get ready for bed, and the entire act you had put on crumbled instantly. Your eyes went wide, tracking the movement of fabric up his torso, over his shoulders. You attempted a whistle, what came out was more of a pathetic swoosh of air with no substance. You tried again, pursing your lips with intense concentration. This time nothing came out at all, you looked like you were trying to blow out candles on an invisible birthday cake, your cheeks puffing out uselessly.

"Are you done?" Leon asked in amusement as he watched your increasingly desperate attempts. You tried one final time, producing what one might call a raspberry, and that was apparently his limit. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked, rolling you up in it like a burrito before you could even protest. You let out a muffled "Hey!" as he climbed in behind you and pulled you flush against his bare chest, wrapping both of you in the cocoon of blankets.

"Just go to sleep, baby." he murmured against your hair, his arm curled around your waist.

You wanted to say how much you loved him or how the joke was on him because this was exactly where you wanted to be, but the words were stuck in your throat as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. The room was soft and fuzzy around the edges of your vision, and his heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, you were so comfortable, so safe, so...

A soft snore escaped you as you finally closed your eyes, tucked safely in Leon’s arms. Leon pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his own eyes drifting closed, a soft smile still on his lips.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ reader:

he tries to keep his composure, but you let him sit in his lust, backing your hips against him in your own little rhythm that makes him pull his lips from yours. it’s hard for him to focus as you pull groans from him, quivering inside of you as you cast a spell on him with your stare. his jaw hangs open ever so slightly, feeling your lips beg for him. he wants to function like a normal man and kiss you back, but you ride him so well, he swears he’s malfunctioning. he does lap your lips into a sloppy kiss eventually, breaking it before he even seals it.

“you keep moving on me like that we’re not leaving,” leon warns. his chest rises and falls against your back, meshing with each effortless roll of his body that sends him deeper into you.  

there’s something you say that sends electricity down leon's spine. smirking, your hips slow down, squeezing around him. “old man can’t handle quickies anymore, huh?” you whisper against his lips. “too old to fuck me?”

he swears you light him up right there, feeling the flames engulf him. the grip of his arm around your neck tightens from the tease. leon disapproves, shaking his head. leaning in and placing a gentle kiss to your now messy lips, he quickly snaps his hips into yours once again. “being between me and the dresser is not the best time to be a smartass, sugar.” he relishes in your whine, though it’s replaced by amusement once you speak again.

“if you didn’t want a smartass, you wouldn't have married someone twenty years younger than you, isn't that right?” 

leon couldn't deny that, but it still could’ve been something you said after you were dressed. instead, the consequence has you doubling over as his fingers work into your clit faster, fluttering around his weeping shaft. he hears your cries, slow thrusts quickening. he leaves your body to fall limp over the dresser, toes curling as his arms leave your neck to slip his hand on his back for support. “i hear you joking, but i don't hear you laughing.”

he stares at you through the mirror, hair messy,  makeup ruined and he swears he can feel the urge to fill you up growing. you wriggle so much against him as you fight an incoming orgasm, trying to keep it in so you can cum with your husband. you try with everything in you; breathing, digging your nails in the palms of your hands, but if anything, those techniques pushed you closer to the edge. 

“oh fuck— i’m gonna cum,” you start, hand hovering over leon’s that works in between your though before he stops. 

the growl that leaves you sends leon into a frenzy. he can’t let you have your cake and eat it too, especially after that little quip you made. “what do you think?” he grumbles, leaning in to take in the scent of your hair. “should this old man make you cum?” 

you nod your head quickly, your free hand reaching behind you and cupping the back of his neck. “y-es. yes please,” you caress his nape, fingernails digging into his flesh. he sits with the option in his hand, circling his fingers back on your clit, pushing your hips deeper into the dresser. there’s a hum of gratification from your whimper, feeling the tip of his tongue drag down your neck, soon taking a gentle bite at your skin.

feeling you lose balance in his hold, the older man helps keep you up, picking up on your eyes rolling through the mirror. “you cum, we stay home. got it?”

“g–ot it,” you slur, head resting on his chest, fingers curling over his working hand. 

“hands off,” he demands, ripping his hand away from you again. your gasp doesn’t move him, the tip of his nose running up your cheek prior to biting your ear lobe. “my pussy, ya hear me?” he growls. “you don’t get to tell me how to touch you right now." as he bullies you into obedience, he can feel his body cracking under pressure. a familiar buzz runs over his body, tingling in his fingertips, wrecking his pattern. he almost forgets to continue his movement with his fingers, but he follows through. 

he underestimates how close you actually are, whines being pulled from you like he can’t survive without them. with each stroke he spreads you open, you feel the buildup in your stomach, body twitching under his intensity. your cunt kisses around him the more you hear his breath shake, grumbling swears under his breath like he can’t take it. and maybe he can’t. 

how could he when he feels you attempt to empty him clean? tight around him, begging for him with those cute little moans. the helpless one is him. your moans erupt for him, feeling your climax wave over you, grabbing onto any part of him that you can. leon of course lets you. but not because he wants to, but because he can’t tease you anymore now that he’s spilling into you, mentally begging for mercy. he doesn't mean to fill you up so much, but he can feel the pushback around him that he almost slips out. his head falls back, fingers attacking your swollen little clit. on the rare chance you two come at the same time, you both treat it like it’s the olympics. but sometimes, leon likes to go for gold. with his head coming back up, he sees you writhe under his hold, whining without properly begging for him to stop.

so he doesn’t. in fact, he keeps on working your body. “leon– fuck– leon please.” his hips have slowed down by now but the second he actually pulls out of you, his ring and middle finger take you over. it’s all about you now. you try to speak by saying something, anything. you can't even look your husband’s way without having to spill all over his hands. leon lives for it. he pops a tired smile on his lips as he watches you shudder under his fingers, attacking that spongy part inside of you, curling his fingers. he stays firm while you fight against him, placing his arm back over your neck so you can hold onto him. 

you look at your husband through the mirror, watching his muscles flex, quiver in his lip and the way his lips are parted feels like he’s mocking you. his fingers push everything he released back into you, leaning in and kissing your temple. “what do you think? i still got it?” his digits fight with your slick walls contracting around him, but he doesn't let up.

before you can answer, you don’t fight the wave that leaves you, spilling down your legs. you don’t whine or swear, but release broken sobs, too stimulated to function. your body vibrates in his arms, losing balance feeling him keep you up against his chest. 

your husband is hasty with slipping his fingers out of you, spinning your dizzy body around to see your fucked out expression. he wants to check in, but the low eyed glare you're giving him tells him all he needs to know. he smiles, “hey, you alright?” he asks, chuckling while you nod. 

“yes–” you whisper, not worrying if the man hears you or not.

“i’m sorry,” leon starts, cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss on your puffy, smudged lips. “i’m sorry we missed dinner.” 

you don’t want to hear it. the man is amused as a finger lifts up to his lips, watching you shake your head. “rescedule it,” falling into his arms, you’re satisfied with the quick nod he gives you. 

He isn't sure why it gets him so worked up, nothing in your relationship had changed, the only difference is you were now husband and wife instead of boyfriend and girlfriend.

It could be a day after your wedding or 50 years, but if you look at him, call him your husband, his shoulders relax, and his eyes soften as he mumbles out a "yeah?"

But the place it really gets him is the bedroom.

-

The sound of skin on skin and your moans fill the room as you ride Leon.

Leon's slumped against the headboard, his hands on your hips helping guide you, as he sucks and bites your at your tits.

"Fuck, Leon," you whine, your pace not stopping, "it's too much."

"Yeah?" Leon grunts, "your pretty little cunt tells me otherwise, nice and tight for your husband."

You let out a gasp as you feel Leon's hand smack your ass, "My beautiful wife." He groans, his mouth going back to your tits.

"God I'm going to cum," you groan, head dropping to his shoulder.

"Are you?" Leon says, his hand going down to your clit, his lips moving from your tits to your lips as he slowly begins to kiss you.

"Mhm," you moan against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him.

"Want me to come inside?"

"Yes, please fill me up!" Your back arching, as your climax approaches.

"You want your husband to fill you up? Breed this pretty little pussy?" Leon grunts, his own climax approaching as he rubs you clit faster

"Yes! Please, leon!" You whine, your hips moving faster as you chase your climax.

"Fuck." Leon groans as he feels you cum, your walls fluttering around him, his own climax following, spilling into you.

"Gorgeous," Leon mumbles, pulling out and helping you lay down on the bed. Leon looks down at your pussy his cum seeping out of you.

He slowly pushes it back into your seeping hole, "gotta keep it in, hun."

"Think you got another round in you?" Leon looks back to you his pupils dilated and cock already starting to harden, "Need to make sure it takes."

-

I was going to go through a few different positions where he continued to call himself your husband during sex but this is all I could manage for now 😭 This is my second written smut so sorry if it's not good

This is based on one of my headcannons from this post

— He'd be just a little overprotective. Moreso if his partner is a civilian. Leon’s been fighting danger for so many years, it's instinct to guard. He does it unconsciously sometimes, but most often, it's entirely intentional. He stays on alert, like he can stop any possible threat before it gets to them.

— Leon wouldn't be very good with expressing his affection in words. He probably has a hard time saying “I love you” for the first time. Instead, he tries to show up. To be there, to do things for them. He holds them, he helps them, he comforts them. Words aren't his strong suit, but action is.

— When Leon finds out he's sick, he would be afraid to touch his partner, gloves always on, kisses close-lipped and pressed to their hair. He can't poison one of the few good things he has. When he comes home cured, he spends hours making up for lost time.

— It'd be hard to tell sometimes, but his very big heart leads to very big love. He'd end up smitten before he knows it, feeling like a teenager all over again. Part of him wouldn't know what to do with all that affection. Leon would try to show them. Once or twice, he tells them in the quiet that he doesn't have room for so much love. He'd say something cheesy. Maybe tell them he's closed for business for the night when they smile at him.