𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗲. leon s. kennedy x reader

warning: smut + angst!

You always knew you would be a distraction from the greater things in life, yet you willingly signed yourself up for this, despite the immense pain it put you in. Hell, you met him in a dingy bar where he was grieving that woman with the help of liquid comfort, what else would happen?

Dating Leon Scott Kennedy was hard, apart from the fact that he was undeniably broken inside because of his job, it almost felt like an Olympic sport being his significant other, with the way it felt like a constant game of garnering his attention and keeping it on you, though you always knew it would be temporary.

It was so painfully obvious to you and everyone around you that, despite being together for a few months, his heart belonged to the mysterious woman only he knew—but that wouldn't be the right way to describe it, no one knew her. His heart belonged to the mysterious woman that never left his mind despite everything.

You never outright confronted him about this, you didn't have the courage to. It's not like you were scared of him, oh no, he was the sweetest man. It was clear the thought of her put him in a state of distress. Whatever happened between them must've hurt him a lot.

So instead, you offer your heart—and your body—to him willingly, offering it to him to use as he saw fit until he filled the void in his chest in the shape of that woman.

You loved Leon, you really did. You just wished he loved you as you did him.

One calm night, in the rare occurrence where you'd be over at his house for either dinner or sex or both, you and Leon laid on the sofa together whilst watching a movie.

His large palm was placed dangerously high up your thigh, and it was hard to focus on what was happening on screen. Anne Hathaway was in this movie? That's cool, hadn't noticed that before.

His thumb rubbed small circles into your inner thigh suggestively, and your throat bobbed dramatically at the contact. You knew this was deliberate, and you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy his touch.

It was crazy how the smallest of Leon's touches would have you weeping a river between your legs. You shifted your legs slightly, and that was all Leon needed to know that he was doing something to you.

Slowly, teasingly, his hand began to trail up and down your inner thigh, each stroke rising higher and higher, until his knuckles brushed against your core.

You hissed quietly, your legs opening almost instinctively to invite more of his touch. Giving him a sideways glance, you see his eyes were still trained on the television screen, but a small smirk graced his lips.

His fingers rubbed slowly up and down your slit over your shorts, until they reached up to your clit, rubbing slow circles with the pads of his fingertips.

A quiet moan leaves your lips, which prompts him to move his fingers faster. You were whimpering his name now, hips bucking involuntarily as your eyelids clamped shut. It was crazy how fast he could get you to cum, because as soon as you could feel that familiar warmth coil tight in your gut, he halted his movements.

You were about to whine but were cut off by his lips on yours, skipping the sweet parts and getting right into shoving his tongue down your throat. You helplessly reciprocate, holding the back of his neck with one hand and his stubbled cheek with the other, moaning softly at the dual sensation of his tongue in your mouth and the sparks of your denied orgasm waiting to be lit.

You pull away, only to manoeuvre yourself onto his lap, straddling him comfortably before pressing your lips onto his again hungrily. You could feel him hardening under you, and you pointedly rolled your hips against his, earning a low groan.