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leonkennedybreedingkink · 1 month ago

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f / m, angsty ooooh. you guys are exes. leon drops you off at a party after your car goes kaput and defies logic by staying. cue sad baby tate mcrae era worthy breakdown.

a/n: i’m supposed to be on hiatus rn but i‘m at a party where i don’t like anyone and no one likes me so i’m #thuggingitout by writing fanfic on my phone 🔥 no i’m not projecting anything onto leon. no i didn’t melt off my mascara crying to girl in new york by role model or her by the american dawn. mobile docs is so ass pls forgive any goofs 🙏

word count: 902 // read on ao3 // drabble masterlist

In hindsight, he never should’ve picked up your call. Leon’s standing in the furthest corner of the living room, here at your friend’s party tonight, nursing a red Solo (so that’s why they named it that) cup full of something too watered down to dream of taking any edge off, figuring out why it’s common fucking sense to let the phone keep ringing when your ex calls.

But he just can’t help himself when it comes to you. Never could.

Leon doesn’t know anyone here. He didn’t think about that part either. The last thing he remembers is dropping everything to pick you up at the side of the road where your car gave out. There you were, sat on the curb looking like a Barbie fresh out the box. Dressed in a shimmering little number he couldn’t remember paying for unlike all the ones before. Tears gelling your eyes. Chin tucked over knees spattered with new, purpling bruises he’ll never know the story behind. Didn’t know who else to call.

(But he knows it must’ve been your bathroom cabinets. You’d become a hurricane in there when you got ready, always tripping over the stupid jut-out handles on the bottom. He used to kiss the little galaxies on your knees all better.

It took every fiber of his being to not bend down again when you finally looked up at his face.)

Call it morbid curiosity. Leon wanted to know where you were going tonight that had you in such a rush to get out the door. What else is his insomnia supposed to ruminate over later? So he paid the towing fees, opened his passenger door for the first time in forever, and kept his mouth zipped while you typed in your friend’s address on the GPS. Zipped besides the minimum, you know:

Are you okay?

Does it still hurt?

No use thinking about it still.

– all about your car, of course.

Leon needn’t have bothered trying to calm you down on the drive here. You’d patted your bruises back to health with spare makeup from your bag. Your heels didn’t wobble when he followed you to your friend’s doorstep to make sure you got there safe, not even when she insisted he stay – new friend, Leon realized. She didn’t recognize your ex. You simply hadn’t known her long enough to tell the story. Clearly, you haven’t been shutting yourself off from the world like him. He should be happy you’re doing better.

Different people have different coping strategies, Leon soothes himself with a swirl of his cup.

But two can play at that game. He doesn’t even miss you.

Except in the mornings and evenings, and on weekdays and weekends. He didn’t think twice in the car about pressing a kiss to the back of your hand whenever the traffic lights turned red – just at the first one. There’s no need for an actress in his dreams when he can go at a punching bag long enough to tempt dawn, creeping through his semi-permanently shuttered windows. And he’s never been a song person either. Your laugh replaying in his head keeps him occupied on the longest drives. It’s not like it stings to even think about ejecting the Jeff Buckley CD you left behind in the console. Did he hallucinate you looking at it on the way here?

No, Leon’s never wondered if you still think about the way you used to feel in his arms.

Or how long it took for you to tell your mom that he broke your heart.

When is your friend going to start glaring daggers at him?

That thought sets him straight. He can leave. He should leave. You’re a smart girl. You’d figure out a ride home and Leon could use a drink more than anyone here.

You’d told him a story once: of a tiger chasing a monk down a cliff. The monk, too panicked to take a turn, had ran right off the precipice, managing to grab on to a solitary grapevine as the tiger licked his chops from above. All Leon had gathered was that the guy was a goner. A pancake whether he gets gulped or falls victim to gravity.

You said there was a lesson here, sweetheart. He’s just going to die.

Okay, okay! So there he is, the tiger’s about to eat him, the vine’s starting to give way. He’s completely doomed. Then he notices a bunch of grapes growing off the end of it.

The vine?

Yeah.

So they’re magic grapes? Do they save him somehow?

He uses one arm to hang onto the vine and the other to pluck a grape off the bunch. He pops it into his mouth. And it’s the sweetest grape he’s ever tasted.

The monk falls to his death. Obviously. It didn’t matter to Leon, not when he’d tickled you to tears under the covers, his tired laugh drowned out by yours that sounds like tinkling bells, begged you to tell a different story before he turns the light off. Leon’s always the one telling stories for a reason. All his have endings that make sense.

But then he sees you in the center of the room, shining brighter than any mirrorball, laughing that same laugh, one he hasn’t heard for so long that it shatters his ribs – and he stays.

How sweet the rim of his Solo cup tastes.

the monk story is a zen parable i got from my fav short story of all time, maria of the grapes by jen silverman pls read her book the island dwellers i beg

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#oh my heart #mutuals 🩷

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leonkennedybreedingkink · 1 month ago

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PROXIMITY CONTROL

fboyish leon kennedy x fem!reader

notes: well gosh everyone. i’m so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth (save for a few drabbles) and getting into discourse. at least the semester is over and my stalker is back home so i don’t have to deal with him. on God im working on that leon/reader/chris threesome and also a leon/reader/woman threesome btw, i’ve also been terribly writers blocked lately…. anyway. happy fboy leon wednesday, based on some of my life :) things get a little gross here, sorry for making reader a tsunami

Can rc suburbs apartment 203 shut the fuck up. why are yall fucking in the middle of the day go to class

Someone posts on your college yikyak. You gasp and stare at your phone for a hot minute before you sprint to the shower. “Leon, Leon!” You rake the curtain to the side.

“What?” He looks at you with a bewildered tilt to his grin, still washing his hair.

“We got mentioned on Yikyak.” You hold out the phone to him, close enough that he can read it and far enough away that his shower won’t damage your phone.

Leon leans forward to read it, a soapy hand reaching out to steady your hand so he can read better. Once he processes it, he laughs, head tossed back before he rinses out his hair, shaking his head. “Oh my fucking God.”

You’re laughing too, it’s hard not to. “I fucking told you your neighbors must be sick of us.”

Leon shrugs, raking his hair back from his forehead. “And I told you, I don’t care. I don’t mind when you’re loud, that’s what lets me know you’re enjoying it.” He smirks when he catches you ogling him. “Did you hear a word I said?”

“Sure did.” You watch the water run down his front, gold chain damp and dirty blonde peach fuzz matted down with water. “You said you don’t care that I’m loud because that’s what lets you know I’m enjoying it.”

Leon gives a quiet, closed mouth chuckle as he turns off the water, pushing his hands through his hair and shaking his head before he reaches for a towel. He wipes his face on his towel first before slinging it around his shoulders. “Did you reply?”

You step aside so he can get out of the shower fully, looking at the post again as you perch on the closed toilet seat. No comments. “No.”

He scrubs the towel over his head before wiping himself down and tying the towel around his waist. Leon reaches over for his phone and pauses the music thumping from his speaker, cutting off DNA.

When you see the smug turn to his smile as he scrolls down, you realize what he’s gonna do. “Do not.” You don’t get up to stop him, though.

He gives you a sly glance, typing without looking. “Don’t what?”

“Leon Scott fucking Kennedy.” When you stand up to read his phone, he’s already commented.

#1: Neither of us have class lol

“Leon!” You swat at his shoulder and he giggles, setting his phone on his shelf and wrapping his arms around you, kissing the side of your head.

“What?”

“Fucking—“ His biceps feel so nice. He’s such a good cuddler. And he tolerates when you bite the shit out of him. “troll!”

He’s laughing again, squeezing you before letting you go and standing in front of the mirror to clean out his ears. “That’s what you came up with?”

You watch him shamelessly, brows raised and the slightest smirk across your face. “You called yourself that once. Remember when you tied that one girl's shoes together when she was arguing with her boyfriend in the dining hall?”

He keeps grinning. “Touché. And it was funny.”

“I believe you.” You perch back on the seat and scroll on your phone, pulling your necklaces from beneath his borrowed shirt with a finger.

When he’s done, he tips your chin up and leaves a kiss on your mouth. “When do you have class?”

You nudge his nose with yours. “Two-thirty, for once. It got cancelled.”

“Nice.” He kisses you again and hangs up his towel, smirking when you blatantly watch his ass, neck craned to see out of the doorway. It’s a nice ass, it’s a runner’s ass. “I don’t have class until then.”

“I know.” You leave the bathroom and head over to the living room, Leon swatting your ass as you walk by. It’s a little late for round two, but it’s just as good to cuddle and watch a movie.

He sits down on the couch when he’s done dressing, putting on one of your suggested movies and laying back, arms open. “Cmere, baby.”

Magic words. You crawl on top of him with a pleased sigh, head tucked by his chin. He rewards you with a kiss to the top of your head and wraps his arms around you, shock-blue eyes on his TV.

That was something you said the first time you met him—actually, you said that while you were about to ride him. “Good God, your eyes are blue.” Could see that even through his rainbow lights.

You fall into a short nap while the movie plays—a rare occurrence, when you’re up, you’re up. Leon idly runs a hand back and forth over your head while you doze on top of him, dropping secret kisses on your head and occasionally squeezing you closer.

He pauses the movie with forty-five minutes left and gently shifts you back and forth. “Cmon, sweetie, we gotta go.” He says uncharacteristically softly, petting your face for a moment. “We have class.”

“Mm.” You wake all at once, reluctantly catapulted into consciousness. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and stretching.

Leon watches fascinatedly for a moment before his expression shifts. “Good nap?”

“Shut up.” You get up and put everything back in your pockets—earbuds, pepper spray, lipgloss, keys—stretching out once more before you do one last sweep of his apartment.

He’s up too, shoving his feet into his shoes and gathering everything he needs—keys, airpods—before he puts on a hoodie and grabs his bag. “You ready?” He opens the case and puts one in, then holds the case out for you.

“Just about.” You take the airpod and tuck it into your ear, following him out of the door and beginning the walk back to campus with him, hand in hand.

Leon doesn’t like that you’re on the side facing the road. “Cmere.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at him, not catching on until he shifts you to his other side, guiding you by the hand. “Oh.”

He gives you a sideways smile as the pair of you walk back to campus and you chatter to him about your upcoming assignments. You pause between the two buildings. “This is my stop.”

“Yeah, I know.” He drums his fingers on the back of your hand. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I hope so.” He leans in for a sweet kiss and comes away with your lipgloss on his mouth. He licks his lips and squeezes your hand before he walks away.

You get maybe ten steps away before you remember you have his airpod. “Leon, wait!” You scamper over and pass him back his airpod.

He looks faintly amused as he tucks it back in the case. “At least you didn’t drop it in the grate again.”

You click your tongue and groan, stamping your foot once. “That was one time!”

Leon laughs, eyes crinkled in the corners before he pulls you in with an arm around your neck and kisses you goodbye again. “Okay, okay.”

One last one, one last one! You give him a kiss and playful pat on the ass. “‘Kay, bye!” You singsong, bouncing away.

“Bye,” He mimics your tone and begins his walk to his building.

OP: Still. The dick can’t be that good.

“You good?” You giggle, leaned forward as you keep riding, feet on the mattress.

Leon’s eyes are shut, mouth open in a half-smile. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

You smile too, one arm beneath his neck and the other hand on his shoulder. “Am not.” To be fair, you’re really not. Everytime you try and stop squeezing, it lasts half a second before you’re squeezing him again. This time, though, you do it on purpose. Just one squeeze, he’s hitting all the right spots anyway, he made a comment about you dripping down his balls.

Leon gives an airy groan, hands on your hips squeezing. You giggle in turn, kissing his cheek. “Sorry.”

Leon’s nothing if not participatory, it’s not long before he gets tired of giving up control. “That’s it.” He pulls you forward, arms wrapped around your waist and your knees anchored to the bed, your face smushed in the pillow—which is good, because you start squealing when he pounds into you, breathing heavily into your shoulder.

You should’ve guessed when he pulled your mouth away from his dick earlier, when things were getting started. And also when he was finished eating you out and had you writhing just by his fingers, faster is better than harder for you. You’re sure he was watching in fascination between kisses to your thighs and twitching tummy.

When you quiet down after he keeps pounding, he turns to breathe in your ear, “You want me to fuck you rough? You wanna do doggy?”

Maybe if he’d stop scrambling your brains, you could answer. Mercifully, he slows down, kissing your shoulder. “You wanna do doggy? Is that your favorite?”

Between the noises he punches from you, you manage to nod, sweat slicking your temples and hair. How many times have you came? He said four, you’re not really sure. “Uh-huh.” You shift your weight so he can get out from under you, collapsing a little once you’re on your elbows and knees and he’s behind you.

“Oh, poor baby.” Leon chuckles, smoothing a hand over your back and leaning down to kiss the back of your head. “Your legs are wobbling, huh?”

“I wonder whose fault that is.” You mutter, smiling a little blearily when he giggles before he pushes in and your shoulders tense, mouth dropping open. Usually your hair’s everywhere, but it’s up today, so he gets to see every minute detail.

“Mouthy.” He murmurs, swatting your ass and watching it jiggle as he fucks into you roughly. You hide your face in the mattress because the noises he pulls from you are embarrassing, good God. Have some shame.

Since you’ve apparently already came four times, Leon doesn’t feel too terrible about when he comes, arms wobbling with his weight as he practically folds over. “Jesus.” He pauses and gently pulls away, glancing back when you collapse on the bed.

He tosses out the condom and comes back with your water bottle. “You want some water?” Whatever didn’t make it into your half-assed bun is hiding your face as you lay like roadkill on his bed. He really tuckered you out, poor thing.

“Mhm.” You lift your head up and sip greedily from the water bottle, flopping back on the bed when you’re done. Leon puts your water bottle up on the dresser and grabs a washcloth, gently wiping you—and himself, your wetness is running down his thighs—down.

“You wanna shower?” He perches on the edge of the bed and runs a hand over your head.

“Mm, gimme a minute. I can feel my legs shaking.” You plant your face on his thigh and he smiles. Kitty.

“I wonder why.” He laughs, gently pulling some hair off your sticky neck.

You lay there for five minutes before you get up and he starts the shower, taking off his watch and leaving it on his dresser.

You divest yourself of your jewelry too, leaving both sets of earrings in a pile and your necklaces tangled up, your bracelet left to the side. You laugh a little as your legs keep wobbling once you’re in the bathroom with him. “My legs are still shaking.”

Leon looks uncommonly smug as he holds a hand under the water to check the temperature. “I wonder why.”

“I hate you.” You shake your head, adjusting your hair and pulling it up so it doesn’t get wet in the shower.

“Nah-uh.” He insists, hanging up the spare towel.

“Do so.” Leon lets you get in first and you take a chance to clean up with a little water—God, he wasn’t kidding. That’s… a lot.

When he gets in, you gravitate toward him with a soft hum, cheek on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your head, standing there under the warmth with you, at least until things turn a little lukewarm because his apartment’s water is temperamental.

“Turn around, I’ll clean you up.” He nudges you closer to the shower wall and you melt against it when he rubs your back, laughing to himself about you being an overgrown cat. He squirts a little bodywash on his loofah and runs it in circles on your back, then turns you around to put his soapy hands on your boobs with a wide grin.

“Oh, no, soapy boobs, my one fear.” You tease, holding your arms up and out so he can wash them.

“Mine too.” He says sincerely, crouching down and setting your foot on his knee as he washes your legs. You take the opportunity to kiss the top of his head, shifting your weight so he may wash the other one.

You do the same for him, of course, turnabout’s fair play. Once you’re done mutually cleaning one another, you lean back into him, warm and happy.

“This is nice.” He muses, dropping little kisses on your shoulder.

“Mhm.” Your eyes fall shut and you turn your head slightly to press your nose against his cheek.

It doesn’t take much for you to fall asleep later, oversleeping a little in the morning when you have class at nine.

Fucking dumbass. You knew it was going to be casual from the night you met him and consequently had sex with him. Now you’ve gotta act like your stomach doesn’t hurt every time you think about finals week and him going back home to Philadelphia.

He graduates in summer, you knew that. Anything to get out of this fucking place, not shit to do here except eat or shop, and eating is debatable.

Still, you try and make it count. You buy your first vibrator on his suggestion—he thought about a remote control one, but would it really work over two hundred miles away?—and the first time you used it with him during sex, you left a spot on his bed and genuinely saw black for a moment.

You come watch his showcase for his criminal justice class and give him a good luck kiss because you have class and you’ll watch his soon.

You two have dating allegations from not only your friends (and tablemates who confronted you before class saying you have a boyfriend, which he isn’t), but his classmates, who watch you watch him work on the presentation more times than not, especially if you’re staying over at his place later.

Still, that doesn’t fill the pit in your stomach when you consider him leaving you. You could always do the Bradshaw thing and follow him somewhere, assuming he’d drop everything for you, but let’s not put this cart in front of this horse with a fuckboy chain.

“I have news for you,” He says as you’re on the phone with him and his friend—and now you have throuple allegations, which isn’t her first time, apparently—one night.

You give your phone a bewildered look, Prince Phillip contact photo and all. Maybe if Phillip had blue eyes and Aurora weren’t blonde. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He sounds a little smug. That’s never good, because he knows you like it, no matter how much you tell him you don’t. Confidence, yes; arrogance, no. “I’m gonna be here next semester.”

Someone pinch you. Or punch you, whichever works. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah. All eight credits.” It’s amazing he’s kept up this bravado when you don’t immediately give the reaction he wants.

“Huh.” That’s not how this works. You were totally prepared to steal a shirt of his and wear it until it smells like you instead of him, have phone sex with him, cry, and be a melancholy bitch over the summer. Guess you’ve gotta throw all that out the window. “What made you stay?”

“It’s the same amount at a community college as it would be here, so it doesn’t matter.” Some rustling on the other end, what is he doing? “Plus, I’ve gotta supervise those dummies next semester as they build on my senior project, the one you were there for?”

You sit back on your bed. “Yeah, I remember. It was a good showcase.”

There’s probably something more he’s not telling you, but Leon plays it close to the chest some days. He claims he’s nonchalant—which may be partially true, but you have good intel that he gives a shit about you at least somewhat—and oddly, claims that you’re nonchalant. And you’ve never been nonchalant a day in your life, even in the womb.

More rustling. “So I’ll be here through fall. Isn’t that exciting?”

He’s needling you like he always does. He likes reactions from people and you’re his favorite book.

You draw aimless patterns on your satin sheets, attempting to play it cool. “Yeah, it’ll be cool to have you around.” Paper thin.

“We can actually do stuff, since I’ll have a lighter schedule. Like dinner, we can check out that arcade in the mall.” He pauses and tells your friend that she should come visit so the three of you can all hang, maybe beat his ass at some arcade games. “And I think I’ll have a part-time job, so I’ll have more money and won’t be broke as fuck, like I am now.”

He’s not terribly broke, he just has to tighten the belt because he made all his money over summer and Christmas break.

You smile anyway. “I still have that point card thingy from when I went to that arcade, we could use that.”

And the conversation goes from there.

You’re a year-ish behind him, but there’s still nothing stopping you from doing the Bradshaw thing and following him to Philadelphia when you graduate. A whole lot of nothing.

#bumping bc i can

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