Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Pairing(s): Any!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader
Warning(s): Smut, no dialogue, 90% brain shitting than smut tbh, reader being a girlboss, sub!leon, dom!female reader, prolly makes no sense, mentions of smoking, cann and addiction but all of them are metaphorical (don't do drugs, kids)
Just a little something to warm me back up into writing.
And yes, Daddy Wang's a huge inspiration for this.
*****
Every time the need struck, his mind came up with a gazillion reasons not to give in. Then, out of nowhere, he would be there, pursuing his addiction, waiting for his next fix, and hoping he could make it through this "therapy" for his constant desire for solace. Chemicals quickly contaminated everything you and he were, from the air in his lungs to the sickly yellow film smothering his skin. The smoke had its entitlement, to be closer to you than some subway creep breathing in your face, touching as if random yet calculated. The inner monster had been attacking him every day, but he had encountered not only no resistance but also new habits of feeding the conscience, of self-cannibalizing all that could have saved him. The attack was the worst kind of pleasure that could possibly exist after all this time, yet it was all that was left for those scavenging claws.
And once again he'd found himself taking a hit of you in the back seat, several inches deep buried into the warmth of your core and several beats counting with the hangover pounding every surface of his head. Leon's eyes were trained on you, eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, and his pupils blown wide as you descended and ascended onto his throbbing cock. You got him blowing away hot into the night with his brain deteriorating down to a short circuit and calculating zero when your clammy hands warmed his neck.
He felt the lack of breath throughout his body, that feeling of being winded through the process of exerting a moment of grime. His lungs were being worked up to bring in some much-needed oxygen, but even then he felt as if he was drowning in the air, sunken way too deep trying to breathe you in and hold you in his chest.
His hands shook against sticky leather as his fucked out eyes fondly sauntered back and forth between dots of sweat trickling down from the tips of your hair to the space between your breasts. He found it easy letting the dampness burn his lips when he grazed against your skin once again. It let him take a fresh new hit and sink further into the black hole he threw himself in, and you shuddered in that dwelling minute. Every splitting second drove you through every crossroad that existed to reach the point of delirium. He's had you whimpering out his name and breathing hot in such a confined space, never a moment missing as he tickled every nerve in your body. It was the anticipation of being together in a way that was more than words, in a way that was so tangible. Leon piloted his hands to glide down to experience the mess that you were on his lap, to amalgamate with the grunge of the sex. He was diving back into the belly of the beast again as he got himself high and drunk on your body and temperament. He felt so done up and worn out in the back of his car but he relentlessly licked his plate out of deep hunger regardless and never stopped thrusting into you just as you never stopped meeting his hips with a licentious slap to yours and his skin.
Sporadically, his ears would tingle at the breathiness of your whispers. They had him raising hills on his skin and putting him in his place when you were noticing that he was beginning to throw a fit, too eager to follow the control of his subconscious.
You would bounce back onto him with a little more force, blowing the small amount of air he had left out of him and ultimately getting him to get his shit together. You let him feel every bit of your sex-driven impertinence and just like that you were bringing bad back, let him feel the disrespect in your body. He had himself a bad girl who had way too many options but he knew you were capable of how to walk it like you talk it and was never one to play games. He found his comfort in his shackles...for now. It was a privilege of his in that untamed occurrence to walk into the cold to bring the heat of a moment with a brave willingness and seek you out.
To let you be the girlboss that you were and pull him back every time he'd quit.
What you wanted was what you needed. It never was a question once the bond and intimacy stretched expeditiously into your thoughts, dreams, and wishes. The weight of your prudence over you and him was dusted away because once you were in love, everything you wanted to do was fun. It was the right kind of play and your imagination was known to run wild. You just liked it when it was cold and then the ice would just melt away spontaneously quick with a little gasoline and a match like a quick slow-burn pinching through the motions. Once you crossed the line, you put the sweat up in the back seat like a mosh pit, clutching onto Leon's skin like a madwoman ready to dig her grave within the man's body.
Never once in the last minute did he ever turn his eyes away from you. They were as steady as they could possibly be in such a tight moment of time, and there you saw the bluest colors turn into an even darker and more bitter shade, the nicotine smoke that continued to inflame beyond his eyes as everything around you began to burn hot. He had the look in his eyes pouring up all over you while you rode his body nicely. And there he felt you coming and he couldn't escape, wretched at how fast the night had to quit. He wouldn't dwell on it, though, because he knew he would keep coming back to you, passed out in the back of his car and blacked out from the night before, going back to cruelly stumbling over the sweet pages of your relationship arc.
