#Leon series

[fanaticmorelikefantastic]

Leon Fic Chapter 3

I just wanted to post this chapter, what even happened 😭

Synopsis: end of date, Leon leaves for a while, emo rambling and a magical fairy appears at the end of the chapter (not really though don't take that literally)

The wind felt like little ice pricking at my skin, sparking electricity in my veins as I held on to Leon for dear life. Exhilarating, that was the word I was looking for. At some point, I opened my eyes to see the gorgeous lights of the city as we whisked by them. It was unreal. This whole situation was. Me, out on a date with a guy who, even though I just met him, feels like I’ve known him my whole life, on a motorcycle for the first time in my life, but feeling completely safe. I take a moment to thank the writer’s block that led me to that cafe as I watch the encouraging fairies pass by. They don’t feel like regular lights anymore. They feel like fairies. I almost feel like a fairy. At a red light, I readjust my hands around his waist to make sure I don't fall off, interlocking my fingers. He glances behind at me for a second.

“You okay?” His voice sounds close and far at the same time. I was too enamored in the sights around me to think too much about his dark leather jacket, or the sleek helmet he wore. Breathlessly (it was taken already), I replied.

“Yea.” He laughed lightly.

“We’ve gotta get you a helmet.”

“Yea.”

The food at that place was amazing. I don’t know if it’s because of how effervescent I’m feeling, or the chef’s careful measurements. As usual, Leon is a regular, though the stand man says it’s the first time he’s visited in months “and with a girl, no less.” I’m not quite sure what it is I ordered, but it has that quality that only someone passionate enough to work in a truck can put into their food. There were wooden park tables built around the place, making it feel like a real restaurant. The truck even had its own veranda. After our meal, I couldn’t help but feel like dancing. I held it in, though (barely). 

We were outside of my apartment building now, me loosely holding onto the light pole Leon stopped at while he sat on his bike, helmet off, eyes staring so perfectly. He was so perfect. I don’t even remember how I got here, I only remember his face, his hands, his voice. 

“I was probably the last kind of girl you were hoping to take on a date. Some deranged creative who accidentally wrote you into a book. Sorry for wasting so much of your time.” He laughed at me again, that soft and low breathy thing he calls a laugh. I try my best not to swoon, but I don’t think it’s working. I really do love that laugh.

“If you’d believe me, I think you’re the only person I ever should’ve taken on a date.” He adjusts himself to get a better view of me. “And I wouldn’t mind being your muse. If you’ll have me.” He looks so honest about it and it’s my turn to laugh now. I don’t think he understands what a muse is, but that’s okay. Anything he does is okay. I allow the pole to support most of my weight, unable to trust my feet anymore.

“Be prepared for that. It’s not for the faint of heart.” I can already tell just from the time we spent together, his heart is anything but faint. 

“So, when will I see you again?” I try my best not to look as eager to see him as I am. 

“That depends, when are you free?” He’s flirtatious, effortlessly so, but I do my best to match him.

“Almost always. Just come by when-” I was cut off by Leon’s phone ringing. I was a little surprised by it, but more than that I was taken aback by the complete drop in his expression. It felt like he already knew who it was before checking the caller I.D.. I motioned that I would walk out of earshot for him, and he smiled apologetically. I loitered around a bit down the street, sometimes looking at the grave expression he had on while he spoke. Somewhat instinctively, I knew what it was about. I remembered the way he faltered for a second when talking about work. It has to be about that. He’s special forces, after all. I think about movies I’ve seen and wonder if the real thing is the same or not. It’s probably much worse. At some point he beckoned me back over, quickly running his hand through his hair before he spoke. 

“I’m sorry, it’s- work. I might not be back for a while, so I guess I’ll have to trust you were serious about me being able to stop by whenever.” He tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was anxious. He probably had to leave soon. I won’t keep him any longer.

“Of course I was. I’ll see you when you’re back?” He will come back, right? I had a feeling of unexplainable uncertainty, the kind that happens right before something terrible occurs. 

“Yea.” He stops to look at the floor for a moment. “You’ll be the first person I see.” With that, he drove off at a worrying speed. I was left there, underneath that light post, all alone with my thoughts. And so, so many feelings.

I didn’t see him for a little over a week, though that week felt like months. I continued my typical routine, but with a bitter aftertaste in every activity. Courtesy of the time I used to waste sleeping, I finished the first few chapters of that book and turned them into my editor. She praised me for being ahead of schedule. I wondered what the schedule was for whatever he was doing. I accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up wondering if he had a decent place to sleep. I ate at that cafe again (and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again), wondering if he had a proper meal yet. I was most certainly having more feelings than necessary for someone I only knew for a day, but I couldn’t help it. They kept falling out like heather-scented sludge from a broken faucet. I knew that I would never be allowed to know what he was doing or where he was going, that’s something they wouldn’t even tell his wife, but it was the fact that I knew he was in a dangerous position. To say it messed with me would be a gross understatement (mess, like the mess on the floor from the water I spilled, I need to clean that up). I was so disconcerted, in fact, that I even started working on that painting for that mean old man, thinking maybe he felt a similarish way about his late wife. I painted with guilt and grief and longing and all the things I suddenly realized were prevalent in people. I am much too nescient, and now was the worst time to have realized such a thing.

I was just beginning to stir from a nap on the couch when I heard a ping from my phone. I languidly checked to see what message I got from my editor, probably. It was not my editor. It was Leon. I panicked for a moment, and before I even got the chance to properly read the message, he was calling me. 

“Hey, what’s your apartment number?”

------------------------------------------------

[grey-viridian]

Leonardo

I finished this comic about a month ago but couldn't bring myself to post it. It started as a simple illustration and then I just kept adding more and more and at some point I had to stop myself and cut the story short. I'm still not entirely satisfied with the result but... well. I like it. That's enough.

[gn0czi]

Work in progress

[byexbyez]

lovers of valdaro | leon kennedy x reader

PART I  |  PART II  |  PART III (finale)

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader 

summary: Some things have changed. The months, the weather, the air that hangs between Leon and you. Yet one thing has remained constant: his desire to keep you as close as possible. 

word count: 8.2K of gratuitous smut 

warnings: 18+, smut, established relationship, pda, bickering, consensual somnophilia, groping, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, prone boning, swearing, slight dom/sub undertones, pet names, an attempt at praise kink, pill as contraception, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), marking, unintentional edging, masturbation, aftercare, no use of y/n, oh and ooc 

notes: i’m sorry to those who were expecting pt 3 to be angsty. i wanted to portray some changes and get used to writing and publishing smut. also, this can be read separately as it is almost all smut. enjoy!

➵ read on ao3.

“This man yaps a lot,” Leon says from behind you, you’re startled by his voice near your ear. His lips tickle your earshell. Like a cat’s fur standing up, your shoulders go up slightly. Renting only one sunbed –a narrow chair, really– for the two of you starts to feel like a mistake. Well, you plan to swim anyway, I’ll just sunbathe, you had said earlier, failing to account for Leon’s FOMO when you pulled out your book from your beach bag. For some reason, he was interested in anything that captured your attention as of late. 

You were looking at travel guides for you and your sister back at home when Leon saw your laptop screen. “What’s this?” he asked, adjusting the screen so he could see it better. 

“Beaches in Italy,” you answered. “My sister will be using her yearly vacation this year. I’m making  a list of places we can go if she asks.” Leon was silent and when you turned to him, already watching you intently. “What?” 

“Our anniversary is coming up.” 

You looked at the date, wondering why he brought it up. “I guess it is.” 

“How about we go? Before your sister asks, I mean,” he suggested, scratching the back of his neck. 

You straightened up on the couch. “You wanna go on a vacation with me?” 

The corners of his lips curled up. “Err, I believe I asked you first.” 

A little girl runs by your sunbed with her arms full of plastic toys, screaming with joy as she plops down to the sand. The bottoms of her tiny feet are red, probably because of how hot the sand is. She begins digging up sand with her toy shovel. 

“It’s Dostoevsky,” you say, like that would be enough clarification for Leon. His arm comes up to pinch the book up top to flip it and peek at its title, which reads “White Nights.”  Propping up your elbow on your torso to adjust both your book and your attention, you try to move as little as possible to not disturb him. He basically made you sit between his legs and lay your back on his chest, saying he would take a dip in the sea in a few minutes. 

You know he’s about to speak again when your head rises along his chest. “He’s been talking nonstop for three pages.” 

“Leon, I’m trying to focus.” 

The little girl a few feet away lets out a frustrated cry when her castle crumbles down, her little arms flap irritably, chucking the toy shovel in front of her in the process. A slightly older boy, probably her brother, comes to the rescue with a bucket full of sea water. He shows his little sister how to wet the sand for it to hold shape. The sound of waves crashing against the breakwater drowns out their shrill laughter.

“You’re squishing your boob,” Leon blurts out, takes hold of the planted elbow on your breast and lifts it in the air. 

Trying to follow the words, your head knocks on Leon’s chin. “I can’t read like this. Let go of my arm.” 

“Nuh-uh. If I let go, you’re gonna keep pressing your arm to your boob and have a nip slip.” 

“I’m not gonna have a nip slip.” 

“Whatever the correct verb for a nip slip is, it will happen.” His chin digs into the crown of your hair. “And those teenagers will remember this day forever.” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “What teenagers?” 

“The ones that are looking this way,” Leon states in a matter-of-factly tone. He’s right, a bunch of boys are in the sea, laughing among themselves by splashing water. Every now and then their heads tilt up to your direction. 

You look down on yourself to see if the swimsuit is covering you like it’s supposed to. There’s nothing wrong with it, yet that doesn’t stop you from setting the book down on your stomach. “Why are they looking here? What’s wrong with my swimsuit?” 

“It looks good on you, that’s why. Hormonal teenagers.” 

“I think it’s the position we’re in,” you mumble. Your back feels damp with sweat as you peel away from him, sitting up further away.

But Leon has other plans, he snakes his hand around your shoulder and plants his palm right on your sternum, pulling you back to him by your chest. 

“Oof,” you breathe out once you collide with his torso again. 

He taps his fingers on your breastbone as he catches the slipping book on your lap. “Here, I’ll hold it. You turn the pages.” 

“It’s too hot for this,” you groan. 

“Pardon me for doing something,” he says, sounding neither hurt nor sorry. 

“You said you’d swim,” you say, though it sounds more like a suggestion. “Want me to lather you up in sunscreen? I know you didn’t put it on back at the hotel.” 

“I mean, when you ask it like that, sure.” He’s grinning like a cheshire cat, it warms your heart that he’s pleased with himself just by managing to get under your skin. Something quite like a heartbeat, it feels intimate, an embrace out in the open. In a snap, you shake off the feeling. You’re not going to see these people again, they do not know you, just like how you don’t know the couple dipping their feet in the water while holding hands, little girl building sandcastles with her brother, young boys jumping on each other’s backs. Who would have thought being a stranger to all of it would make your yearning flesh all the more tender? 

Your wandering eyes shut in bliss when you feel it. A featherlight, barely-there kiss on the back of your neck, placed just below your hair, followed by the disappearance of your book from your sight. Leon reaches down to drop it in your bag, you wiggle away to let him search for the bottle of sunscreen. 

“Take your shirt off,” you say once you turn to face him. 

“Damn, woman. At least buy me dinner first.” 

“Can you get any cornier? You’re getting overpriced beer at best.” 

“...May your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life–?”

Your attention snaps away from your book over a playful voice. “Hey, miss. Sorry to bother you.” Leon is standing a few steps in front of your chair, hands on his hips, most of his weight on one leg. Water drops cling to his firm chest, following a delectable path down his muscles. Some even caress his faded scars gently, a reminder that he has endured things far from gentle. His hair seems darker due to saltwater, the tips of it almost poking his eyes, by the looks of him having to shake them away from his face when he attempts to tilt his head to the side. “Are you perhaps single?” 

You purse your lips to suppress a grin. “Why are you asking?” 

“I’m interested.” 

“Oh,” you croon in mock-embarrassment. “I’m married.” You make sure to show off the gold band on your ring finger. 

He walks next to your chair. “Lucky guy. Speaking of, where is he?” His gaze lingers on your legs that are bent towards your chest, the book propped up on your knees. 

You close the book and play along. “He’s swimming.” 

“Is he a good swimmer?” 

“Yeah, his strokes are phenomenal.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Are we still talking about swimming?” 

You tilt your head to the side. “Why yes, is there a misunderstanding?” 

“No, no. Just making sure we’re on the same page here. Tell me more about him.” 

You gesture to the empty room on the foot of the sunchair. “Then you might want to sit here for a while. Maybe dry off?” 

“I’d love to keep you company until your husband shows up.” Leon sits sideways next to your feet, way too familiar for a ‘stranger.’ “What’s he like?”

“First of all, he looks a lot like you.” You press your lips together. This is ridiculous. “He’s also incredibly annoying.” When Leon gasps half-mockingly, you cast a sideways glance at him. “His jokes are really corny, he’s lucky I put up with them.” 

“That might hurt his feelings.” 

“Well, he’s not here.” 

He scrunches his eyebrows together, there’s a visible question mark in his blink. “My jokes are that bad?” 

“Aaand, the play is over.” You slap your knees lightly, sliding your feet towards Leon until your toes touch the side of his thigh. “We are not sharing the chair again. You’re still dripping.” 

A sluggish sigh escapes his lips. “Let me lean on you at least.” 

And before you can say no, Leon is relocating your hands from your knees, moving them by your wrists, placing your arms at your sides. He folds his own arms on top of your knees and rests his temple on them, hugging your knees to himself, looking off into the side. You could lean forward and bury your nose in his hair like this, inhale the sun and salt, let your lips linger, let him feel the ghost of a kiss for a change. Though he was always better at unprompted acts of affection, maybe because he didn’t think much of it. 

It’s peaceful—the secluded space you’ve managed to carve out for the two of you, despite the chaos of the crowded beach. It feels like a quiet world unto itself, hidden in plain sight amid a sea of distant faces, as if removed from everything around you. It’s strangely intimate. Minutes or hours pass, you can’t make out which, lost in the stillness. 

When Leon speaks, his thumb starts brushing your knee. “I can hear you think,” he murmurs, his voice low. What’s going on in that head of yours? 

“Will you tell me a truth?” you ask, almost in a whisper. 

Leon doesn’t lift his head up, lazy like a cat in the sun. Although his body reminds him to be on guard upon hearing a kid yell in the distance, his muscles twitch reflexively. “Why?” 

“For all of this to feel real.” Your eyes follow the slope of his nose, then the squished red cheek leaning on his forearm. The sunscreen you copiously put on his nose bridge couldn’t protect his skin. You can’t help but admire his long lashes, fluttering so prettily the action could make butterflies jealous. 

His answer surprises you. “I’m scared all the time.” 

“Of what?” 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His thumb stops moving so he can squeeze your kneecap. “I’m scared that one day you’ll want us to go our separate ways. I’m scared that I will not be able to let you go. You know I wasn’t able to do it the first time around. I dread the day you won’t want to see my face again.” 

“Leon–” 

“Sometimes I get scared that something will happen to you and I will lose you.” 

It dawns on you then. The reason why you’ve been waking up to strong arms tangled around your waist for months. 

“Leon, nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

However, he’s still going on. “If you decide you’ve had enough, just let me know, okay? Don’t just up and leave.” 

Your throat constricts itself. You don’t know what to say to that. Part of you wants to do just that: up and leave. Not the way he means but in a way to escape his hold, step aside to mull it over and come up with a humane response. The fact that he couldn’t meet your eyes while saying all that leaves your heart with a dull ache, chest too heavy to even breathe. 

He finally looks up, expression unreadable. His eyes scour your face, searching for something. “Does it feel real now?” 

You swallow on nothing as you meet his eyes. Sure, you nod. It terrifies you how real it actually feels. 

Leon thinks he’s a genius for lowering the temperature of the air-conditioning while you were in the bathroom, carrying out your night routine. No, he didn’t have any malicious intent, not at all, he was just sweating a lot even after his shower. By the time you entered the bed in your pajamas, you suspected nothing, lifted the bedcover to join him. Your skin was glowing from all the products he couldn’t wrap his head around, your lips were shining clear. For a moment, he wanted to plant his mouth to your lips and taste the vaseline. 

He was aroused, which was not surprising considering the amount of sex you two had been having. It’s become so regular that he thinks he never had this much compatibility with anyone before. Goodnight, Leon, you murmured before gracing him with the sight of your back, voice so sweet he nearly whined out of desperation. He didn’t know why he waited for your breathing to fall steady, he’s been holding you in your sleep for a while now. Every morning you wake up before him and toss his arms aside, get the day started. 

When he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep, he makes his move, drapes an arm around your waist, pressing his bare chest to your clothed back, spooning you. He’s careful not to wake you despite the evidence of his arousal resting against your ass. Normally, he would ignore it and take care of it in the morning but you make that impossible by squirming in your sleep. A few minutes pass by and he guesses the room must feel like an icebox to you, he knows you get cold quickly. Leon thinks he’s a genius because he could just wake you up and suggest warming you up. He also thinks he’s a fool because what if you don’t wake up, with all this squirming? He could move to the side and wait for the cold to do its own thing or he could just get up and go to the bathroom to rub one out. Or he could lower his boxers, do it right here. He’s positive you wouldn’t mind, that’s how intimate you two have become.  

Before he can decide, a shiver takes over your body, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Now Leon feels bad. He’ll just get up and fix the AC to an acceptable temperature. 

You shrivel into him, searching for warmth. The arm across your waist reaches up, the entirety of his hand cupping your breast that’s pressed against the bed. His body runs hot despite the breeze in the hotel room, so he thinks this will help. Just as a quiet, needy cry from your throat travels to his burning ears, his other arm snakes beneath your body to press against your belly. He squeezes you tightly until he can feel the blood pumping through your veins, buries his nose into the crook of your neck. Inhaling deeply bestows on him your enticing scent. 

Guilt washes over him as he ruts his hips into your sleep shorts, because who becomes an animal in heat when they smell clean soap? 

Leon. Leon does. 

The smallest things have been setting him off. All of your flimsy sundresses, swaying of your hips in them, your smooth legs, the gold anklet that matches with your wedding ring, the swimsuit that makes your cleavage call his attention. You, taking his arm while walking side to side. In fact, he suppressed smothering his face into your cheek today at lunch—cuteness aggression— as he tried to eat his food in peace. You were enjoying your pasta, humming contentedly after your first bite, you smiled at him when you caught him watching you intently. Leon was never into taking pictures but at that moment, he wanted to engrave the picture of you smiling up at him lovingly into his memory for the future, remember your crinkled eyes and adorably scrunched up nose when he would miss you. He knew he would miss that moment right when it was happening, he’d be gone again for an assignment soon. 

“What?” You laughed.

“That good?” he asked, eyes pointing to your bowl of pasta. 

“Yep! Want some?” 

Leon keeps clinging until your body twitches no longer, takes deep breaths against your neck, pleased as his heat completely stills you. His hold relaxes as he becomes aware of his grip strength. He releases his clamped fingers from your breast, stroking your nipple apologetically. It will surely leave a mark on your soft skin, which you will whine about later, though he knows deep down you enjoy him being rough with you. After all, it was you who brought up that you weren’t made of glass, he didn’t need to act as if you were going to break. 

Your soft sighs soothe him to an extent, as far as the strain in his boxers allow. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s still humping your backside, cock throbbing. He’s going to wake you up. Pounce on you once you open your eyes. 

Forefinger and thumb pinching a hardening nipple, he nuzzles his face into where your neck meets your shoulder, dropping heavy kisses first, then switching to sucking your skin. If he could drown in your smell, he would. “Honey, please wake up.” 

“Hm?” He hears you, heart starting to beat even faster. “Leon?” Your first touch is on his arms, fingertips ice cold, groggy voice calling to him. 

“You awake?” he breathes in your ear. 

Feeling tickled, your shoulder rises to your ear. “Clearly,” you reply hoarsely. His thigh is glued to the back of yours, reaching back to hold it, you manage to slow his movements. His erection is fully pressed against you. “Everything okay?” 

“No.” He pants in your hair. “Need to fuck you.” 

“Leon,” you groan, face dropping fully into your pillow. “I’m too tired.” 

“Please, you don’t need to do anything.” 

“Don’t think I can even lift my leg.” 

“Then don’t. I’ll do everything. Lift your hips for a second so I can get this off?” 

“Fine,” you huff, rolling onto your stomach so his strong-willed hands can strip off your shorts along with your underwear. “We don’t have lube.” 

He drops a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll just have to prep you.” 

Ugh, so sweet. “Make it quick,” you say as he carefully sits on the backs of your thighs, his knees trapping your legs together. “How do we do this?” 

“Stay still,” he mumbles, barely audible. You grow impatient as you hear him moving in the dark, taking off his only piece of clothing. He reaches over to the bedside drawer to turn on the lamp. The blanket is scattered across the bed. You hiss sharply, eyes adjusting to the soft light. 

He holds your shoulders firmly. “What’s wrong?” 

“Why is it so cold?” 

Somehow, you can hear him grinning behind you. “The AC’s broken.” 

“Have you tried calling the reception? It’s too cold for this.” 

“I’ll warm you up,” he says as his heat hovers over you, fingers hiking up your flimsy camisole to gain access to your waist, the other hand shaking off the thin straps. He buries his nose into the back of your neck, kissing a path to your right shoulder, sharp teeth grazing skin along the way. He shifts his attention to your left shoulder, reaching down to cup your ass, pulling apart your cheeks. His fingers find your sex straight away; he’s familiar with your body. 

“You’re a bit wet for someone who’s feeling too tired,” he teases. 

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “I will leave you blue-balled for the rest of the week.” 

“Right,” he says. “Lift your head up.” 

“I just woke up, you’re asking for too much from me.” 

He nudges his nose into the back of your ear instead of answering. Kiss me, he demands, pressing his hips to your plushness. Familiar with his silent commands, you submit to his reign, craning your neck back, open mouth chasing his. 

Your mouths clash unceremoniously. It’s messy, sloven, uncoordinated, and animalistic. He finds your tongue in no time, suckling on the wet muscle all the while managing to lift your shoulders off the bed to drop your thin straps around your elbows, pulling your camisole down. Now your top sits below your naked breasts, bunched around your middle like a thick headband. Leon’s jaw moves as if he’s thirsty, drinking from your mouth unapologetically. The noises from your so-called kissing are obscene, filling the room along with the sounds of heavy breathing. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, body slowly warming up. 

Quick as a wink, a strong hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you face down to the mattress. Your surprised yelp into your pillow is cut short once he pulls your hair gently, laughing next to your ear. “Don’t want you to suffocate. Try to keep your head up. Can you do that for me, honey?” 

Rolling your eyes, you bite back a remark. Resting your cheek on the pillow is all he’s going to get. After all, he did tell you that you didn’t need to do anything. Your crushed breasts feel funny, one side aching considerably more than the other, owing to him groping it roughly while you were sleeping. 

Leon lets out a low chuckle and continues his undeterred path from your jaw to your neck, nipping at skin, leaving a stinging sensation behind. His knees make room for your squirming legs, a perfect chance for him to dip his hand between your thighs, a slight part of your legs to accommodate his fingers on your cunt. Rubbing your lower lips, he slicks his fingers with your wetness. 

Your breath hitches when two pads of fingers make contact with your clit, drawing tight circles. “That feel good?” His voice is muffled by your skin. 

You groan a noise of confirmation as he puts more pressure on his fingertips, quickening his movements on your now soaked pussy. His thumb catches at your entrance, maybe accidentally, and you can’t hold yourself back from pursuing that pleasure, back arching so your hips could sway up, chasing his touch. Thankfully, he is quick to place his thumb back, swiping back and forth. The double stimulation on your opening and clit creates enough lubrication for him to slide right in. 

Your eagerness doesn’t go unnoticed by Leon, the feel of his teeth on your earlobe is a wary appreciation. “Too tired, huh? Look at you.” He means your hips in the air, quivering right in front of his view. “Lemme help you relax.” 

You think he’ll finally thrust himself in, however, you’re taken by surprise when he works two fingers into you, the stretch unexpected, but appreciated nonetheless. He shoves your hips back down into the mattress, arm across the small of your back to keep you steady against the bed. “Don’t be disappointed. I need to open you up first,” he speaks into your temple, nose pressed to the tail of your eyebrow. He starts moving his fingers in and out. “Don’t want you to hurt.” 

He grabs a handful of your ass to pull apart while working your cunt open with his fingers. Your whole body feels electrified each time he strokes the velvety walls of your pussy, throat humming with need. 

“Leon…” you moan, wanting to arch into him. Your desperate hand slides under your belly to touch your clit. “Enough.” 

But that’s not what you want to tell him. You want to tell him this is not enough, he needs to be inside you right now or you will start to wail, turn over and jump his bones. This is quite the opposite from where everything started, with you worked up and fussy in his hands, unable to speak properly. 

You feel him watching his own hand between your legs, ears perked up for the sounds coming from where you are gushing, shallowing his thrusts once he feels your fingers join in. “Enough? You don’t want to come first?” 

“S’cold,” you cry out. “Fuck me already.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he coos at you, pulling his soaked digits out of you, head rising to meet with your parted lips. The arm around your waist slides up, fingers gently digging into your scalp to hold you in place as he kisses you, using the fingers he just pulled out of you to slick up his cock. He moans into your mouth before pulling away. 

“You have me. Ready?” 

You nod into the pillow. 

As he presses his swollen tip into you, he watches the back of your head tip back with a shiver, your neck exposed for him to reach and grab. Instead, he wraps his arm around your neck in a gentle headlock, helping you rest your cheek on his bicep, the movement helping him slip further inside you. 

Hot, bullish breaths burrow into your neck when he is buried to the hilt, balls pressed against your clit and fingers that are spreading yourself. 

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he whispers, his torso meeting your back. 

He presses his entire weight down onto you and it is glorious, being trapped between him and the mattress, surrounded by his body heat with no room to flee. Not that you even consider it. Though your wrist, strained under the weight, digs into your pelvis as he begins to thrust feverishly. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts. 

Your mouth opens to let him know of the awkward position your arm is in but you only manage to moan wantonly. He takes it as a cue to snap his hips faster. 

“Wait, Leon—my wrist.” 

He stops completely, lifting his hips slightly for you to pull your arm out from underneath, dropping a kiss in your hair as an apology. “Fuck, sorry. Forgot your hand was there. Are you good? Am I too heavy?” 

Your hands fist around the sheets to brace yourself. He did not pull himself fully out of you, you just want him to fill you to the brim again. Even though you don’t know if you can come like this. “No, I’m good. Let’s continue.” 

As your wish comes true, his hips pick up a frenzied pace, the bed starts to shake. You don’t know how he manages it, you’re immobilized under him, high on the pleasurable feeling. Your poor nipples are chafing against the sheets with all the movement. The noises escaping your lips are embarrassingly loud, mingling with the creaky springs of the hotel bed. He doesn’t hold back either, sucking love-bites wherever his mouth can reach, moaning against your spit-lacquered skin. Palms sliding under your shoulders to hold you even closer, he squeezes you to himself while letting his weight push you hard into the mattress. 

It’s as if he wants to open up his chest and tuck you beneath his ribs, or crawl beneath your skin from behind, until you both become one. 

His pace falters, you squeak as he bottoms out, walls pulsing around him. He must have been desperately horny, for he is spitting out delirious things in your ear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— you look so cute. You always do.” 

“Huh?” 

Rather than addressing your confusion, he leans in your face. One hand cups your jaw, guiding your face to his, squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered, ready for him to attack, though it’s a pleasant assault of kisses. “You’re so—” Kiss. “Soft.” Kiss. “It makes me crazy.” Kiss. “And you always smell so good.” Kiss. 

“Leon, what’s gotten into you—mmph!” 

He doesn’t care about what you have to say about his raving state; instead, he crashes his lips to yours for a longer, deeper kiss. His strong arm hugs your neck again, cradling you to himself. You swallow his animalistic groan when your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on the tresses while trying to squirm. His hair has gotten so long; a luxury of taking time off work. 

His hips start to grind, precise snaps eliciting small sounds out of both of you, his cock massaging your innermost crevices. 

“You’re like an angel,” he whispers in your mouth, panting wildly. “You feel like heaven. God, I love you. I can’t believe—shit, I’m close. I’m gonna come. Tell me where to come.” 

If he wasn’t literally in your face, you might have missed it—that sacred, dangerous word slipping past his lips as if it was an everyday occurrence. 

It didn’t even register at first, partly because it happened so quickly and partly because it made you clamp down on him with an intense ripple of pleasure, causing him to grunt. 

Losing all strength in your muscles, you sag against his arm on the pillow, neck too numb to keep your head up, feet plopping down with a pat. When did you lift your feet up? 

Like a snap of a thread, his demeanor changes instantly. Concerned, he brushes your hair away from your face hastily. “Baby, did you just come?” 

A sound resembling “yes” is murmured into your pillow, your whole body feeling prickly upon the fondness in his voice, spasming uncontrollably. He’s still inside you, reaching incredibly deep, hip bones digging into the meat of your ass, caging you in his warmth. 

“Didn’t even need me to touch your clit,” he says. There’s that smugness in his tone, like he didn’t just rock your whole world. 

Feeling fuzzy around the edges, you remember his need to have a release, and words rush out without much thought, “Inside. Come inside.” 

The faint rhythm of his hips turn sloppy upon hearing you. He’s gasping, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m on the pill.” 

“Fuck. Thank you, baby.” 

His face finds home in your neck again. It’s not long before you feel the thick trickle of warmth filling you up. Coming to his senses, his arms loosen around you, waiting for his breathing to turn to normal. 

You can sleep like this, you think. With him literally in your skin, smothered under his delectable weight. It’s calming. 

Eventually, he pulls out and rolls over on his back, the absence of his weight feels oddly sad. He turns his neck towards you. “That was… something else. How are you feeling?” 

You stretch your arms, sliding them under your pillow. “Like I’ve just run a marathon. And I didn’t even move much.” 

“Now that you’re properly tired, you’re gonna sleep like a log.” He chuckles, throwing an arm on his forehead. 

You slide a hand between your legs, knitting your eyebrows, reconsidering. “We need to clean up first.” 

“Right,” he sighs. “I promised you I wouldn’t make you move, didn’t I? Wait here.”

Before you can say anything, he gets up from the bed, picks up his underwear from the ground and heads to the bathroom. You don’t move in case the viscid fluids threaten to leak onto the bed. He comes back with a few rolled-up toilet papers and a damp towel, with his underwear on. He sits on the edge of the bed next to you. 

You spread your legs as he holds up the rolled-up toilet papers to your dripping entrance. “Push it out.” 

You squeeze out the mixture of you and him. Your cheeks flare up, not because of embarrassment. But because of something else. Him instructing you with a raspy voice shouldn’t get you fired up, your limbs are still weak from the earth-shattering orgasm he pulled out of you, but your body reacts on its own volition. 

“I didn’t know you were on the pill,” he continues as he wipes down your sweat with the towel. 

“A recent development,” you say, eyes heavy with sleepiness. “Started it a while ago, I meant to tell you.” 

“That’s fine.” He cleans up the residue between your thighs lastly. The pressure of his touch is so careful, in case you’re overstimulated. “Honestly, I think I found out about it in the best way.” 

A small chuckle from you eases his heart. The image of you lying naked on your belly, your head turned to the side with bleary eyes is like a painting to him. He leans down and places a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. 

“Can I wake you up in the morning?” he mutters into your skin before hoisting your camisole to its place on your shoulders. 

You understand his implication. “Yeah, but no sooner than eight or I’ll be super cranky.” 

“We’ll miss breakfast.” 

“Breakfast or sex. The choice is yours.” 

“Room service it is.” 

Eventually, he finds your panties and shorts under the blankets, lifts them up over your hips, and finishes dressing you.

You give him a smile, fingers resting on your lips as you ponder. “I have something to ask you.”

“I know,” he replies, too quickly. He’s aware of the things he’s just said. “I know you want to talk about it. But I feel awful for disturbing your sleep. You’re tired. We can talk all you want in the morning. Just know that I meant it.” 

“C’mere,” you whisper, rolling onto your side to reach out to him.

This time, it’s Leon who seeks warmth, succumbing to the balmy caress of your hand as you pull him in.

The kiss is too soft, too fragile, and he wants it to linger forever. 

He’s offended when you pull away abruptly. But that feeling is short-lived as you turn your head away to sneeze twice. “Bless you,” he says. 

Deep down inside, remembering he changed the settings of the AC, he rolls his eyes at himself. He gets up and turns it off, throwing the soiled toilet papers in the trash on his way. “I’ll call the reception the first thing tomorrow.” 

Leon is insatiable. 

The first things he notices when he opens his crusty eyes is his morning wood and the deep red hues scattered across the back of your neck in front of his face. Wiping the sleep from his eyes with one hand—the other arm trapped under your neck—he presses himself to your backside. A repeat of what started everything. 

He retracts after letting out a low growl into your hair, only to roll you on your back by your shoulders. You’re still asleep, muscles all soft and pliant under his maneuvering. So pretty, he thinks. The tiny flutter of your eyelashes casts soft, quivering shadows on the apples of your cheeks as warm sunlight streams into the room through a narrow gap in the curtains. Hovering over you between your legs, he cups your face, thumbs caressing the dainty shadows. His breaths fan your face as a gentle nudge to your slumber. 

“Baby…” he croaks, voice all ragged from hours of disuse over the night. 

Even in your sleep you seek out his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, rousing something carnal in him. His lips get to work on your throat briskly, sucking the delicate skin, humming against it. 

He feels the vibrations of the mellow sound your throat gives out against his lips and continues the path down to your clavicle, leaving ruddy blemishes behind. Rubbing up and down on your thighs, his palms curve behind the backs of your knees, bending them to spread your legs completely open against the bed. He presses his hard-on to your center. 

Your cunt must be sore, he’ll kiss it better. 

He mouths at the tops of your breasts, palms fondling them up in his face. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, though you’re too drowsy to hear. 

His head slips down the blanket, your cover slides down your body as it gets caught on his broad back, opening an airway for him. 

He starts littering kisses on the inside of your thigh, beginning from your knee and continuing the path up to your groin, pulling back each time his nose touches the verge of your panties. He looks up expectantly to see you stir. Because once he sees you awake, he’ll devour you. 

You are stirring, head lolling in an attempt to turn on your side. Leon’s hands quickly clamp down on your thighs, “Nuh-uh.” He denies you, keeping your hips still. His mouth switches to your other thigh, repeating his ministrations. 

His teeth graze the edge of your underwear. Your leg twitches under his touch, which further encourages his sudden urge. 

Blunt teeth sink into the soft, supple flesh of your inner thigh. 

That seems to wake you up as your head jerks, hand flying to his hair between your legs under the blanket. “Ow.” 

“Morning.” His tongue darts out to soothe the dull ache. 

With heavy eyelids, you crane your neck to assess the situation. His lips are slick and plump from all the kissing and biting. “Mhm. Good morning.” Yawning, you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the other one cards through Leon’s hair lazily. As your grip tightens, you drop your head back to the pillow to blink away the haziness. 

The sounds of his lips smacking against your skin are accompanied by the fan noises filling the room. You realize you’re no longer sweating like you were through the night, when the broken air-conditioning left you sweltering—or would have had you freezing if it were actually running. You’re confused. “AC’s working again?” 

You feel him smiling against your thigh. “Yeah. Called the reception and everything.” 

“What was wrong with it?” 

“I’m literally in between your legs and that’s what you wanna know? Like, right now?” He nuzzles your underwear, placing a kiss on your clothed center to stress his frustration, which you reply with a startled whimper. 

“First, I risked frostbite and then sweated like it was hell. Of fucking course I wanna know the reason of my suffering.” 

“You didn’t suffer,” he says in a jeering tone, fingers hooking under your panties to peel them off. He’s quick to get rid of that obstructive piece of fabric. “I’d say I took pretty good care of you.” 

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah—world’s best husband or whatever, keeps waking me up because he’s horny.” 

“Hey, you said breakfast or pussy and I made my choice.” 

He licks a path up from your entrance to your clit, your hips jump. He grips your thighs and slings them over his shoulders. 

“I did not say that.” Words slurred, your eyes close upon the honeyed sensation. 

“Something along those lines,” he mumbles, lips brushing against the sensitive little bud of nerves. 

You kick the blanket off his back so he doesn’t suffocate under the heat. The slight temperature change makes your hips jerk up to his face, his morning stubble scratches the insides of your thighs deliciously. He drapes an arm across your abdomen to keep you steady. His other arm tugs on the thigh slung over his shoulder, only slightly, to make room for his head. 

Two fingers brush your slit, spreading apart slowly to gain access to your most sensitive parts. It’s still a little tender and swollen that when his hot breath fans across the sensitive flesh, your legs try to shut instinctively. His hold grows stronger to remind you not to squash his head. He licks a broad swipe up your slit and looks up at you through his long lashes. 

You can’t help but moan. He looks so pretty like this. 

Leaning forward, he places a kiss directly on your clitoris, the soft smack sound sends a hot burn to your ears. 

He parts his lips to suck your sensitive clit into his mouth, your back arches as you gasp. His plump lips pull on the taut flesh, making you writhe against the sheets. Now aware of your fist that was bunching the sheets this whole time, you let go to join it with your other hand in his hair.  

He’s always liked your hands in his hair, petting it, tugging at it, pulling it to steer him to where you need him most, he loves it all. He moans as you make a mess of his soft tresses, sending jolts of vibrations up your body. 

Relaxing his tight jaw with a wet pop, he quickly drops a kiss to the juncture of your thigh and begins to lap up your dripping mound like a starved man. 

“Leon!” Your back arches again, hands buried in his hair pressing his face firmly between your legs. You’re not sure if he can even breathe with your thighs caging him. You don’t care, he’ll tap you if he wants to take a breather. 

Blindly, the hand that keeps your slit open slides up to your chest, to push between the valley of your breasts. You clutch your palm on the back of his hand, fingers slotting between his. He squeezes his hand once. I’m alright, it means. He keeps your intertwined hands there. 

His face burrows deeper into your slick, thrusting his tongue into your hole in and out. Nose pressed against your clit, he hums contentedly and starts wiggling his head, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. 

The gasps that fall from your lips fuel him, he drags his tongue back up to your sensitive bud, flicking up and down with only one goal in his mind. 

Up and down. Suck. Up and down. Suck. 

“Too much, ‘s too much!” You repeat with a shaky voice. But you are insatiable too, with the way you guide his hand to your tit, encouraging him to squeeze tight. 

“I know, baby, I know. Just tell me when,” he rasps, trying to keep up with your bucking hips. Groping your breast under your pressing palm, he can’t quite reach to your shoulder to lower the straps of your top, though his fingers find your taut nipple through the fabric and start to draw circles around the pebbled peak. 

His stubble burns your thighs so good it only drives you more crazy. Your droopy eyes lock with his determined ones, mouth hanging open in a silent moan, hand brushing away the hair on his forehead. 

He tightens his tongue and places the tip of it right on your sensitive clit, wriggling the wet muscle in a snake-like fashion, and listens to your moans. Each roll of his tongue is a sweet torment, delivering sparks of pleasure to your quivering body. 

“That’s not—ah!—that’s not fair.” 

His mouth never leaving your pussy, he hums questioningly. “Mm?” The short syllable vibrates through your core, making you fussier. 

What’s not fair? His hips grinding into the mattress? The hand that previously held you down now slipping under his boxers to rub his slick, swollen tip? Fairness is not even the last thing on his mind right now. He’s too drunk on your essence, happily suffocated between your legs, unaware of the fast pace his hand picks up on his cock. He’s fully pumping himself. 

You also know you’re not making any sense. A hot blush warms your chest, travels up your neck to your ears, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. Your body is screaming for release, of course you don’t have any idea what you are blabbering about. 

Feeling your clit pulse beneath his tongue, he waits to hear your staccato breathing, waits for the tumble of unintelligible words to fall on his ears. 

“Leon, I’m… I’m—ah, fuck!” 

Just before the intense wave of pleasure comes crashing down on you, he tears his mouth away from you, panting for oxygen. 

“No, please,” you cry out. “Don’t be mean.” 

Not wanting to deny you stimulation, he gets to work on your tit and gives it a firm squeeze for good measure before returning his fingers to your aching nipple. He toys with it, flicking, pressing down, pinching through fabric. You whine softly through it all, trying to wrap your trembling legs tighter around his head so he could return to what he was doing before. 

“Please, I was about to come…” 

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. I needed to breathe.” He plucks at your nipple, rolling it before returning to your sex. 

This time he alternates between kitten licks and soft kisses on your clit, meant to be soothing. It feels as if he’s grazing a feather on your oversensitive, swelled up nerves. It’s so ticklish that your hips jump to chase after the phantom itch. 

That’s all it takes for the overwhelming waves of pleasure to come crashing down on you. The coil in your belly snaps. Eager as ever, he presses his open and panting mouth against your cunt, moaning against the spasming flesh. Cleaning up the remnants of your climax is only a poor excuse for his lips to linger. He presses a kiss to your thigh before pulling away from between your legs, the slick coating his mouth and chin leaves your skin damp. 

Taking a deep breath, he rises to sit on his knees between your thighs. Your legs drop from his shoulders. Pride fills his chest once he eyes up the litter of love-bites on your flushed skin. His doing. The rapid rise and fall of your chest. Also his doing. 

Through a fucked-out smile, you say, “What? What’s so funny?” 

Unaware that he’s cheesing, he shakes his head. “Nothing, honey. You look so pretty.” 

“I feel nasty, though.” 

He shuts you up with a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Mm… How about you?” you mumble into the kiss while ruffling his soft hair. 

His hips are grinding against his hand in a faint rhythm, palm stroking up and down slowly. He huffs. “Keep spreading your legs and it won’t take long.” 

Discerning the questioning raise of your brow, he swipes a thumb at the corner of your lip. “I’m not gonna put it in. I know you’re sensitive, baby. Trust me. Please?” 

You wiggle a bit to open your legs further, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed because the way he kept pinning you has you feeling sores on your butt. “Yeah, okay.” 

Lining himself up against your slit, he hovers his cock above your puffy cunt and keeps stroking. He groans and bucks into his hand, head falling backwards. You whimper and bunch the sheets in your fists. He looks so hot. His hair is chaotically messy, lips swollen and slick, hand working desperately on his cock. Your pussy flutters at the sight. 

Eyes zeroing in on your center, he says, “Show me. Hold yourself open.” 

You reach down and spread yourself for him, shamelessly displaying what he wants. Your hole clenches down on nothing upon the little stretch, pulling another groan out of him. 

He’s grinning, head tilted to the side. “Fuck, that’s it. Like what you see, huh?” 

You nod fast, staring at the movement between your legs. It’s captivating. 

Feeling devious, you lift your hips slightly to touch your pulsing clit to his red tip, directly to his precum-coated slit. Like a featherlight kiss. It sends a pleasurable shock through your entire body, you plop down on the bed again. 

“Oh shit—you…” His expression tells you he’s very close.

Gripping your thigh, he jerks himself to completion against your twitching pussy. Thick spurts of cum coat your center and belly, your thighs get to have their fair share, too. 

A breathless laugh escapes him, like he can’t quite believe what just happened. His gaze softens, as though clearing a daze. “I’m sorry. Let me carry you to the bathroom.”

A quiet shift lingers in the air. 

He’s so silent while massaging shampoo into your hair, cocooned by your arms around his waist, water cascading over his back. His lips are set in a straight line, eyes roaming your face and coming back to meet your gaze every once in a while. 

You and him, in that sacred, safe haven again. 

I can hear you think. He wills you to speak without saying the words. 

“You don’t need to be scared.” 

His hands pause in your hair. Of what? 

“The things you said at the beach yesterday… You don’t need to be scared, Leon. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” you continue. 

He pulls you closer, cups the back of your neck and rests your head on his shoulder. I love you. 

“And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing your face. I miss it terribly when you’re away.” You nudge his neck with your nose. 

He closes his eyes. I love you. 

“Tell me a truth?” you whisper, watching the slow up and down of his Adam’s apple. 

The urge to draw you even closer to himself is too strong. Come, live inside my skin—I’m yours, anyway. Instead, he opens his heavy-lidded eyes, locking his gaze with yours. 

“I love you.” 

With a slow and languid kiss, he seals his lips to yours, weaving your souls together in that tranquil, infinite moment. 

“At times I think of human relationships as something soft like sand or water, and by pouring them into particular vessels we give them shape.”

― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

[diioonysus]

“You'll stay with me?' Until the very end."

[fentanylaced]

resident evil 4 (2005)

[ashiemochi]

🍉 kind of weather 💕

[comatosebunny09]

kindle | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au

warning(s): language, mutual pining, soft boi leon, stream of consciousness

Leon does these things that confuse the hell out of you while you’re on missions or around the office. You’re his partner—work partner—but sometimes you feel like a little more. More than the younger sibling caught beneath the shadow of an overbearing brother. 

You don’t really know where things are going because he’s made it glaringly obvious in the past that he doesn't mix work with pleasure. However, something’s clearly shifted in your relationship as of late. Yet, you can’t, for the life of you, pinpoint what it is or when it happened. 

Oftentimes, you catch him gazing at you in your peripheral, a fondness inhabiting his eyes like you’ve never seen with the slightest quirk to his lips. That softness remains when a battle-worn thumb swipes blood from your cheek or rubs grime from your jaw. 

Sometimes, he holds your chin between his fingers and tilts your head this way and that—much to your chagrin—to make sure you’re devoid of injuries. Though, you never miss how his irises glitter like the sunset against sea waves, and his lips part a little as he relinquishes the softest, most relieved sigh to the air. And sometimes, you stand like this for eons, confused yet enamored, until the wet garble of a zombie springs you two apart. 

You never miss how a cautious hand finds the small of your back while you’re hunched over paperwork at your desk. How it burns through the thickness of your blazer, causing your heart to work overtime. And Leon beams so boyishly, bowing over to swaddle you in his warmth and cologne as he quips how “you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Yet, as much as he hates filling out reports himself, he stays until the moon sits high in the sky to help you finish. 

He always walks you to your car afterwards, arguing that, shit yeah, you can handle yourself. You suplex the undead for a living. But he’d fling himself off a cliff if his dear partner got snatched up in the parking garage. And he always lingers around a little longer after you pull off, a tender smile cresting across his lips in your rearview mirror. 

But he’s your partner. He’s supposed to do things like that, right? 

Like, he’s supposed to bring you food when you forget to eat—which is quite often. He’s supposed to show up to your apartment to check on you on your days off, promising his company, booze, and terrible romcoms. Supposed to hold you in your bed until you surrender your consciousness to the pretty little girls of slumber. And maybe, just maybe, it’s standard for your partner to kiss you quietly behind your ear and embrace you tighter when you squirm and chuckle and sigh wistfully in your sleep.

Through the wispy haze and the grogginess and the darkness inhabiting your bedroom, you shift to gather his cheeks in your palms—maybe you’re awake. Perhaps you’re still lurking below the shadowy depths of sleep. Who knows—and you kiss him. Cautious, but you kiss him. And though he’s initially thrown off kilter by the suddenness of it all, he relaxes against the suppleness of your lips. And his brows furrow as if he’s waited millennia for this moment. And his throat crackles with a quieted, hoarse sound as his hands perch on your hips, drawing you ever closer until your wrists cross behind his neck, and—

And…

Well, this is totally normal. Right?

part 2 >>

[errornowifi]

Tall eighth gym leaders and their short champion boyfriends

[woso-soso]

Missing Puzzle Piece Pt.2

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: What happens when Ingrid starts to catch feelings for those already taken and will they all act on those feelings?

Word Count: 4,857

Part 1

Any time words are Italicized it indicates another language being spoken, in the case of this story it will indicate Spanish is spoken. Any time words are Bold German is being spoken. These language changes shouldn't occur too much in the future!

Ingrid's POV

Ingrid had only been in Barcelona for a total of two hours when her first misstep happened. Walking out of the conference room with an air of confidence, the impact of her hitting something knocking her back into reality. The crash of a box hitting the ground snapping her out of her shock, she found herself staring at a much smaller person, their eyes not meeting hers as they stared down at the box on the ground. Ingrid had a gut feeling it held something valuable, a sick feeling forming in her stomach at the thought of having broken something within hours of signing her contract. 

“I’m so sorry,” She rushes out, her hand still holding onto the stranger's arm in an attempt to keep them from falling. 

“It.. is.. okay,” she stammered out, clearly doing her best to come up with a response in English. 

“I’m Ingrid, I just signed with the women's team,” she says, a soft smile on her face. Releasing the stranger's arm to hold her hand out towards her. She takes her hand gently, not really committing to shaking it.

“I am Y/N,” She responds with a small shake of their hands. 

“Well it was very nice to meet you Y/N,” Ingrid says as she observes a slight blush form across Y/N’s face. Her eyes go back to the box on the floor but before Y/N gets a chance to bend down and pick it up Ingrid quickly retrieves the remarkably heavy box from the floor. Handing it over to Y/N, who visibly relaxes when she opens the box to see all of its contents still intact. Ingrid takes this as her moment to quickly turn and head down the hallway, unknowingly leaving Y/N behind in a state of confusion. 

It only takes Ingrid slightly longer than expected to navigate her way to the women's team locker room. The music coming from inside guiding her the last few hallways to find it. While this wasn’t her first time meeting some of the team, mainly knowing Caro from the Norwegian national team and Frido from the time they shared at Wolfsburg, a pit of nerves still settled in her stomach. The fact that her Spanish was still very limited only intensified her nerves. Taking one last deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she pushes the door open. The music hitting her ears first, the fast Spanish conversations hitting her second. It’s all overwhelming as she stands in the doorway, her brain telling her to turn around and flee but before she gets a chance she feels someone grab her hand. Whipping her head around she finds the comforting smile of the blond she knew so well. 

“Frido,” Ingrid sighs out, knowing that there is no way she can actually hear her.

“Ingrid, I’m so happy you're here!” Frido declares loudly as she pulls her into a hug. The familiar feeling of someone she knows relaxing her slightly. “Everyone,” Frido shouts, drawing the attention of the locker room. The music shutting off, silencing the room to an almost eerie level. “I’m sure some of you know her but I would like to introduce you all to Ingrid, she's just signed her contract. She’s still learning Spanish so please, be gentle with her.” Frido announces with a big grin on her face. The majority of what she had said going right over Ingrid's head. The majority of players in the room shout back a simple hello not wanting to overwhelm the brunette woman. Caro makes her way over to give Ingrid a quick hug before heading out to the training pitch not staying to mingle as the two already had plans for later that night. 

“Hello, I’m Alexia,” Alexia Putellas says, extending her hand for Ingrid to shake. The introduction felt kind of unnecessary, of course Ingrid knew of Alexia Putellas she would have to be living under a rock to not know of the Alexia Putellas. “I wanted to introduce myself before we get started, if you have any questions please let me know I’ll do my best to answer.” With that Alexia is gone, Ingrid looks around the remaining group in the locker room. Frido lingers by her cubby, tying her boots just right. Another taller brunette sits in her cubby in the corner, the name Cata Coll plastered above the cubby. Finally there is a tattoo covered blond, her back is turned to Ingrid but her heart starts to flutter. 

Ingrid had sworn off dating teammates, not after the last time at Wolfsburg which had ended in a mild disaster. She had been determined to not find any of her new teams enticing, yet, here she was instantly feeling drawn towards the bleach blond beauty in front of her. 

“Don’t get caught staring,” Frido whispers as she goes to pass her. “Your cubby is the empty one next to mine, I’d start getting ready if I were you.” With a shake of her head Ingrid quickly gets herself ready, ignoring the blond she now knows is named María León if the plaque above her cubby is correct. 

Ingrid's first practice with the team goes as well as it could, there were times she struggled to follow directions that were rambled off too quickly in Spanish. But thankfully Caro was there to save her the embarrassment, always quickly filling her in when needed in Norwegian. The language barrier doesn’t keep her from being drawn towards the woman she now knows prefers to go by Mapi. Mapi’s English is obviously something she is working on as she jokes around with Frido and Caro in English even though both of them can understand her just fine in Spanish. She has a charm that draws Ingrid in, the tattoos scattered across her body wanting her to learn more about her. The quote “looks can be deceiving” tattooed across her throat interested her the most. 

“Are you still up for tonight?” Caro asks, starting Ingrid as she yet again catches herself staring at Mapi. 

“Yeah.. totally.. for sure.” She stammers, tearing her eyes away from Mapi. 

“Good, I have the perfect place to take you. Also, I’d be careful with the staring. She’ll notice quicker than you think.” Caro’s warning causes a bright blush to form across Ingrid's face, she had hoped she had been somewhat discrete but she realizes now she is incapable of that. “Come on, let's head out,” Caro says, taping her on the back as she passes by. Ingrid takes one last look back at Mapi, a small smile forming as she watches the blond celebrate yet another penalty kick she made. 

Ingrid does her best to keep Mapi out of her head going into practice over the next week, yet she always seems to wiggle her way back in. From being paired up for drills, her arm draped lazily across her shoulder during team huddles, to short conversations during water breaks. Ingrid was inevitably growing a crush on the shorter woman. 

“Are you coming to team bonding tonight,” a voice rings from behind her, turning to see Alexia walking up to her. A water bottle extended towards her. 

“Thanks,” Ingrid says softly, taking the bottle from her hand, turning away from watching Mapi to try and focus on Alexia. “I was planning on it, who all is coming?” 

“Most of us will be, I know some of them are bringing their partners so be prepared for more people then normal.” Alexia says between breaths, her own water bottle clutched tightly in her hand. 

“Okay, thanks for the heads up,” She says handing the water bottle back over before heading towards the locker room. Did she really want to go to team bonding, not really. She had barely gotten unpacked, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She also knew deep down the majority of the night would be spent trying to decipher Spanish, Spanish spoken at a speed that was bound to be impossible to understand. But she also deep down wanted to see Mapi, away from the pitch, in clothes that weren’t workout attire. Sure she may not understand her all of the time but she made her laugh, she was comfortable with her and she wanted to see if she felt that away from the pitch. 

The team had chosen a restaurant not too far from the training facilities making it an easy enough walk. She was just happy she had chosen practical shoes this morning seeing as she still didn’t have a car either hitching rides or walking everywhere. Yet Ingrid still found herself arriving after a good majority of the team, like Alexia had said many of them were there with their partners making the already cramped space even tighter. 

“Ingrid,” Caro shouts, waving her over to the table she had seemingly commandeered for the night, Marta sat with her in the corner. The table, while not large, had a few seats left open, Ingrid wasn’t sure if she had been saving them or if she got lucky that she arrived when she did but she wasn’t going to question it. 

“There's a lot of people here,” She says as she sits down, finally taking a moment to breathe. 

“And we are still waiting on some, I think Mapi got held up so I know she’ll be here soon,” Caro mentions nonchalantly, seemingly not noticing the blush that appeared on Ingrid's face. The waiter comes around to get their orders, Marta saving her some grace by ordering for her thankfully. She still hadn’t tried to order anything out since being here, too afraid of embarrassing herself. 

Conversation comes easily with Caro and Marta, the three of them switching between English, Norwegian, and Spanish easily. It wasn’t until a cheer of commotion was heard from the entrance of the room that Ingrid looked up. Instantly seeing Mapi dressed casually in a button-up shirt and some shorts, her hair thrown up in a haphazard bun. But as her eyes trail lower her stomach drops. Mapi’s hand is firmly locked with another, and as she follows that hand she finds the gorgeous person she literally ran into in the hallway her first day here. The two of them appeared happy, laughing as some of the players went over to greet the two of them. The first thing many of them do is hug the person attached to Mapi. This clearly wasn’t a new thing. 

“Who is that with Mapi?” Ingrid asks hesitantly.  

“Oh, that’s Y/N, Mapi’s been with her for as long as I’ve known them. I’m pretty sure they’ve been together since they were like teenagers but don’t quote me on that.” Caro says not looking up from her phone. The sick feeling in Ingrid's stomach gets even worse as the pair make their way towards their table. The table with the only seats left. 

Y/N’s POV

You hadn’t planned on taking forever at work, you’d known Mapi had a team bonding night she was hoping for you to come to. You had been sure to text her that she might as well go ahead without you, insisting that editing the final few photos for the men’s merchandise page were going to take longer than planned. When you didn’t get an answer back you assumed she would head out and let you know where she was so you could meet up later. What you hadn’t expected was for her to pop up in your cubicle, hoping up onto your desk. 

“I told you to go ahead my love,” You said, not looking up from the computer in front of you. 

“I know, and I decided I would rather be here with you and when you're done we will go together. The girls will still be there.” Mapi insisted. Taking a mint from the jar on your desk, popping it into her mouth without a second thought. 

“How have things been with the team?” You ask as you click over to the next picture.

“Good, the set pieces are starting to finally come together. Ingrid won’t stop staring at me. Oh Alexia’s free kicks are looking really good too.” Mapi says while scrolling on her phone, not looking up as you stop clicking. 

“Who won’t stop staring at you?” Turning to stare at the blond, her fingers stopping as she registers what she had said. 

“Um… Ingrid.” Mapi says hesitantly, putting her phone down to turn and give you her full attention. The conversation the two of you had still fresh in your minds. 

“She’s been staring, does she know you have a partner?” You inquire, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“I… umm I haven’t mentioned it, I don’t know if the other girls have said anything.” You hum at her response, turning back towards your laptop to finish up the last few details. “Are you mad at me?” Mapi asks after a moment. 

“No, there’s no reason to be.” You respond, quickly saving the last image before sending them off to the admin for merchandising. “You haven’t done anything, how can I be mad when someone is staring at my extremely sexy girlfriend. Honestly it's kind of a complement. Now come on, I'm all done, let's go get food.” You insist, grabbing your bag and taking Mapi’s hand in yours.

The drive to the restaurant is short but comfortable as the two of you sit in content silence. Seeing the rest of the girls had arrived the two of you park, letting Mapi lead you in, still taking a backseat when it comes to being around the team. You still had hopes to one day work with the women's team and that meant the boundaries you had still had to be upheld. 

“It’s been a minute since you’ve been around Y/N,” Alexia says, greeting you with a hug. 

“I’ve been just a little busy,” You responded with a grin, the last few months had been extra hectic due to your promotion and you knew the girls had missed your presence. Plenty of them had messaged you to tell you themselves no longer trusting Mapi to relay the message. 

“Well we are happy you're here, I’m sure there are some seats somewhere.” Alexia says, letting Mapi pull you away from the group that had formed. It's only once you get close to the table that you notice who's sitting there. 

“Are these seats free,” Mapi asks smoothly, her English much more advanced than yours. 

“There all yours,” Caro says, waving her hand at the last two seats at the table. The two of you manage to squeeze into the tight table, you have to sit almost on top of Ingrid, a blush forming on your cheeks that you're thankful is hidden by the darkened room. “What took you two so long anyway?” 

“She was held up with work,” Mapi answers, not looking up from the menu the two of you were sharing. 

“What is it you do Y/N?” Ingrid asks. 

It takes you a moment to process what she had said, hesitantly looking over to Mapi for help. 

“She’s wondering what your job is,” She aids quickly, her hand going to your knee as a way to reassure you. 

“Ah, I um… I work with the mens team… I am their uh head photographer.” You get out after a moment. Mapi gives your knee a soft squeeze, she knew how much you had been working on your English and how nervous you were to actually speak it. 

“Oh so that's why I saw you in the offices, how long have you been doing that?” Ingrid asks, turning to look at you. Her intensely hazel eyes illuminated by the candles that are scattered around the room. You hesitate, swallowing your nerves. You hadn’t fully understood her question, she had been speaking too quickly. But you also don’t want to seem incapable of holding a conversation. 

“How long?” You reply hesitantly hoping she will give you some reassurance you were on the right track. You don’t get a verbal response but her smile widens, a small nod of her head telling you to go on. “I have um.. I’ve been with Barcelona since 2017, but I have…. been doing photos since we lived in Madrid.” You hope that your response is clear, looking to Mapi for reassurance. Her subtle smile making it clear you had done well. 

“Oh, by we you mean the two of you.” Ingrid inquires, pointing between you and Mapi. 

“Uh-huh,” Mapi responds as she takes a sip of her water, wanting to give you a moment to relax. Trying to not only process but respond in English was still new to you and it still quickly drained you. 

“Oh, well how long have the two of you been together?” She asks, her eyes bouncing between the two of you. You can see her eyeing Mapis' hand that was still resting on your knee. 

“Um, I’m twenty six,” Mapi says, thinking intensely. Neither one of you have ever been big on dates and you didn;t have a set anniversary date as your relationship formed over time, neither one of you feeling the need to mark any one day as your official anniversary. “So we are going on ten years. But we’ve known one another since we were seven” 

“Wow,” is all Ingrid says, seemingly deflating in on herself, turning away from the two of you to take a large drink of the beverage she had in front of her. 

“It really has been ten years huh,” You exclaim softly, your hand going to take hers. 

“And yet still no ring on it,” Marta says suddenly, her eyes bouncing between the three of you sat across from her and Caro. 

“I don’t see a ring on Caro’s finger do you,” Mapi asks back, turning to you and Ingrid for confirmation. You shrug in agreement, while Ingrid seems to have drawn into herself not even noticing that Mapi had asked a question. 

“No, I don’t see one, maybe get on that Marta.” You quip back with a soft laugh, as Caro turns to also mockingly stare down Marta the woman suddenly on the hot seat. 

Ingrid’s POV

Of course she’s with someone, of course she's with HER. The two of them make sense together. Their artsy, funny, they balance each other so well. With Mapi’s loud extraverted ways and Y/N’s more quiet introverted personality. The two of them slotted together perfectly, how could Ingrid ever think differently. 

“Ingrid you okay?” Caro asks, snapping Ingrid out of her thoughts, The group sat at the table staring at her in wonder. Ingrid hadn’t realized she had been so zoned out, the light buzz from the alcohol making it feel as though time was moving at a pace slower than a snail. 

“I’m fine,” Ingrid mumbles, running her hand down her face in hopes of shaking herself out of whatever funk she has gotten herself into. 

“Are you feeling good?” Y/N asked gently, placing her hand on Ingrid's knee. The contact causes a blush to form on Ingrid's cheeks, the butterflies in her stomach an unwelcome guest. Especially after finding out that the women in front of her were a couple, both completely unattainable by her. 

“I think I'm going to head out, I have to walk home and I'm starting to get a headache.” Ingrid responds, turning to grab her bag. 

“Oh you walked here?” Mapi asks, leaning around Y/N to look at the dark haired woman. 

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten around to getting a car yet,” Ingrid sighs, standing to leave. 

“Wait,” Y/N says, grabbing Ingrid's hand. “We can give you a life.” Ingrid halts for a moment, the warm feeling of Y/N’s hand wrapped around hers making her anxiety skyrocket. Looking over to Mapi, hoping deep down she will say no. 

“Yeah, Ingrid we can give you a ride we need to be heading home anyway.” Mapi insisted. 

Ingrid takes a second to think over the offer, was the lack of a walk home really worth being in a car with not one but two extremely attractive people. Two extremely attractive people who are together, two people who Ingrid wishes she could be with. “Um, sure, a ride would be nice.” The idea of an hour-long walk being worse than riding in a car with the two of them. 

Ingrid watches as Mapi and Y/N make their way around the room hugging some of the others goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Caro asks as she stands to hug Ingrid goodbye. 

“Yeah, of course.” She responds, leaning into the comfort of her longtime friend. 

Ingrid follows the pair out of the restaurant, the two of them appearing so at ease with one another. They had clearly spent many years together, the way they just knew what the other was going to do without any words spoken between the two of them. She quietly slips into the backseat behind Y/N, tucking herself into the corner. 

“So, where are we taking you?” Mapi asks as she puts the car in drive pulling away from the illuminated restaurant. 

“I’m just in the team apartments.” Ingrid responds quietly letting her eyes drift close. 

“Wait… really,” Y/N says whipping around in her seat to stare at Ingrid causing her to snap her eyes open in surprise not expecting any reaction let alone that one. 

“Yeah, why?” Ingrid asks hesitantly, slightly cracking open her eyes to watch the woman in front of her. The woman who now has her body contorted around to be able to watch ingrid, a mild look of panic clear on Mapi’s face as she places her hand on Y/N’s thigh hoping she will eventually seat herself. 

“We live there too,” Y/N declares with the most confidence she has had the whole night speaking English. “We should… all spend time… together,” Y/N’s bright smile makes Ingrid feel just a little more comfortable in the couple's presence. “Would that not be fun Mapi?” Y/N asks, finally turning back around in her seat. 

“It would be very fun my love,” Mapi responds, looking over at the woman with a soft smile. “That’s if Ingrid would want to.” Mapi says, putting the ball fully in Ingrid's court, yet deep down she knows the only answer is of course she would. The two women in front of her fascinate her on a level she hasn’t experienced in years. Part of that scares her but another part of it thrills her. 

“I would love to spend more time with you both,” Ingrid declares after a moment, her own smile growing as Y/N begins to ramble off in Spanish, what she can only assume is all the things that she would be planning for the three of them to do. 

When Ingrid had accepted the offer to spend time with the Spanish couple she hadn’t expected how much the two of them would be a part of her day. The majority of the time it was dinner after training, sometimes with Y/N sometimes without her as she would be away with the mens team. When that would happen Mapi would be sure to get her on facetime at some point in the night so that Ingrid could work on her Spanish and so Y/N could work on her English, the two of them making a point to talk exclusively between those two languages. Ingrid found that overtime she sought out the pair, whether it be finding Y/N in her cubicle during breaks in training needing some quiet time away from the team. Oftentimes being found by Mapi when training would start up again, other times she would seek Mapi out in the lunchroom avoiding her normal table that consisted of Caro and Frido. The pair always sent her looks of concern as she would sit down with the blond Spaniard, they both knew of her growing crush on Mapi, they both knew Mapi was also very much taken. What they didn’t know was that Ingrid's crush wasn’t just on Mapi, it was on Y/N as well. Something she would never admit to them. 

“Will you be joining Y/N and I for dinner tonight?” Mapi asks quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to them in the overly crowded lunchroom as Ingrid takes a seat next to her.

“I will if you both would like me to,” Ingrid replies, poking at the salad that sits on her plate. The food no longer appetizing now that she is thinking about the dinner Y/N was bound to make. 

“We would, we actually have something we would like to ask you tonight.” Mapi whispers, looking over at Ingrid, her eyes soft, not wanting to stress her out more than necessary. 

“Oh you do,” Ingrid quips back. “If you guys want me to get my own car you don’t need to feed me to ask me.” 

“I promise we have no issue with giving you rides,” Mapi remarks as she stabs her food in front of her. No longer looking Ingrid in the eye. A soft blush forming across her cheeks, for what reason Ingrid doesn’t know. “Y/N should be meeting us out front pretty much right after practice if that is okay with you.”

“Of course that's okay with me, I can’t wait to see what Y/N comes up with tonight.” Ingrid replies, placing a gentle hand on Mapi’s bouncing knee, the woman's sudden nerves being very clear to Ingrid. 

"Trust me, she’s come up with something very special.” Mapi says, resting her hand on top of Ingrids. 

Ingrid is very surprised by the spread Y/N manages to cook up in just a matter of hours after returning home from work. The baked fish and roasted veggies sitting in the middle of the table, with quinoa and a side salad in serving dishes off to the side. 

“What have I done to deserve the honor of getting this for dinner?” Ingrid asks as the three of them get comfortable at the table, the feeling of Bagheera weaving between their legs bringing comfort to the table. 

“Well,” Y/N starts, looking over to Mapi for reassurance. “Please tell us if we… got this very.. wrong. But we feel like you may have a… crush… on us.” Y/N stutters out, nerves clearly present on her face. Ingrid sits there, eyes wide as she swallows. Had she been so obvious, the secret she had been holding so closely being thrown on the table right in front of her. 

“I,” she stammers “I didn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to if I did, I wasn’t going to ever act on it I promise,” 

“Hey it's okay,” Mapi cuts her off, Ingrids mouth snapping shut as Mapi reaches across the table to gently take her hand. “We feel the same way.” 

“What? What do you mean?” Ingrid asks, a look of panic clear on her face. 

“We like you too,” Y/N says softly, not wanting to overwhelm the woman in front of them. 

“We wanted to see if you felt the same,” Mapi reassures. “If you would be open to it we would like to take you on an actual date, all three of us.” 

Ingrid sits there stunned, she had never expected to be called out on her crush let alone having it reciprocated. Not by one but both of the people, she had never even thought it was possible that both of them would like her let alone want to date her. She hadn’t ever thought of a relationship with either of them let alone both of them. Would she be able to balance a relationship with more than one person, deep down she knew she wanted both of the people in front of her but did they truly both want her back. 

“Really? All three of us, date?” Ingrid asks bluntly. 

“Yes, only if you would be open to it. We have both felt this attraction and we have talked about it extensively and if you would be willing to try we would be happy to as well.” Mapi declares, having taken over the conversation for her and Y/N. 

“I would be willing to try, only if it’s truly something you are both open to.” Ingrid responds, sure she was hesitant but how could she say no when the best outcome was a relationship with two of her favorite people. 

“We are both very open to it, we know there will be a lot of changes but we are willing to work on that with you.” Mapi says, squeezing her hand gently. 

“Okay,” Ingrid breathes out. “Where are we going?” A large smile spreads across her face as she looks at her two favorite people in front of her. Sure this would be a change, a big change but she was willing to see where it would go.

[neerons]

Yet another reason to kill Chevalier…

Let’s just pretend Clavis invented smartphones and tried to impress Chev with his camera skills

There's also no way he would ever call himself ugly

[byexbyez]

Love Me More Series Masterlist

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: A marriage built upon convenience, marked by unspoken tensions and subtle moments of connection, where silence fills the spaces more than conversation. Every little touch seems to blur the invisible lines, and the question remains: how much can be said without words and what happens when you finally find the courage to speak?

A story of two lonely people learning to live together.

series word count: 29.5K

tags: angst, smut, marriage of convenience, strangers to spouses, grief/mourning, depictions of depression and anxiety, touch-starved leon (kinda), a bit of fluff, non-linear timeline, mentions of canon-typical violence, alcohol and cigarette consumption, p in v, minor original character, minor character death, jealous leon, pet names, unprotected p in v smut, no use of y/n

PART I : love me more

PART II : fomalhaut

PART III : lovers of valdaro (finale)

⤷ teaser

or read on AO3.

[ivanscarf]

a single mom who works two jobs

[luckyraeve]

I was "asked" later to join a top-secret government program. - Leon Kennedy, Resident Evil 4 (2023)

Redraw of the ending scene in Memory of a Lost City from Resident Evil: Darkside Chronicles.

*please reblog to show support. do not re-upload*

[arts-bloody-rose]

Just wanted to share this cute clip of DHT. That’s all.

[fentanylaced]

resident evil 4 (2005)