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leqonsluv3r · 5 months ago

Note

hiii!! May i ask for a first date with Leon with a fem reader? Thanks!

bed chem

—re!4 leon kennedy x fem!reader

—a oneshot (request)

warnings: MDNI, 18+, some swearing, readers ex being a dick, leon charming it up on the first date, sweet but passionate seggsy time bc i say so, unprotected pnv, nicknames; baby, sweet girl, honey, heavy making out on the first date (it happens), reader being a horny mess over leon (relatable honestly), and a bunch of other shit.

“she had been weighing the pros and cons of doing this for the past three days. it was the nerves of getting back out there after being in a shitty relationship, that were getting to her. she wanted to move on from that. but still…was this the best idea? she couldn’t just forget about her ex? right? she needed to but something — maybe anxiety — was clawing at her guts. she sat in the restaurant again that they were supposed to meet at, a blind date of all things. she was never this…bold. never this much of a risk taker. but she needed this, she cant remember the last time she had — “is this seat taken?” she is snapped out of her thoughts as she looks up and sees the most handsome man she’s probably ever laid eyes on. her ex boyfriend didn’t even compare by a long shot. she looked at him like a gaped fish, “uhm…no…it’s not…” she blubbers out. she was in for it.”

— or reader meets leon on a blind date and thinks maybe her ex breaking up with her wasn’t such a bad thing

masterlist taglist prompt game

an: i’m sorry this took me so long to get up. hope this is what you had in mind, anon.🩷🩷

she didn’t think this was a good idea.

not in the slightest, she had been single for only three months. she wasn’t waiting to long right? no, she wasn’t. she could do this.

even if her gut was screaming at her to do something differently, to run out of this restaurant and away from her blind date that was setup.

she wanted to run.

she stared at her wineglass of water, taking a small sip of it. she sighs softly, looking at her phone. he was five minutes late. did she get stood up? did he see her then turn around and leave? she swallowed and tried to not jump to conclusions. that probably wasn’t the case.

she hated that she was back to square one, if only her ex hadn’t dumped her right before christmas. she felt like she was stuck, having dated her ex for two years, she felt so out of the game with flirting. she was just going on this date to humor her friends, they said she was moping, said she needed to stop eating ice cream in her sweats on friday nights.

she had to agree, she needed to start going on dates…but blind ones? set up by her friends? not the smartest idea.

but they had told her to trust them. so she was, even though she felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

she couldn’t do this, she was going to get up and leave, go right back to her apartment and —

“is this seat taken?” she hears a voice drawl from behind her shoulder. she swallowed, her insides melting like jello just at the four simple words this man had uttered. she tries to find words as he quickly rounds the table and sits down opposite from her. it’s like her eyes and brain are working faster then her mouth is, taking him all in. he was so beautiful, so…god, she didn’t even have a word for what he was.

she finally found some words and opened her mouth, “uhh, your…uhh…” she takes a deep breath and tries again, “your my blind date?” she finds herself saying. it came out more quiet and feeble then she would’ve liked but in this mans presence she’s lucky she wasn’t a puddle on the floor already.

he nods with a small subtle quirk of his lips, “leon kennedy.” he says as he grabs the menu, his eyes scanning over her for a quick second then averting to the specials on the sheet in front of him. she ducked her head down to look at her own menu, trying to seem focused on it when in hindsight, she wanted to ask where the cameras were. she was obviously being pranked. right?

she looks up from her menu and chances a look at leon again, she smiles softly and nervously when he catches her stare. he puts his menu down slowly against the table and looks at her. “are you going to tell me your name?” he says with a small teasing brow raise. she chuckles softly, averting her eyes and then looking back at him before saying her name softly. he hums in acknowledgment, his lips quirking up again. “cute name.”

jesus, fuck the dinner. she could just jump his bones right now.

the waiter doesn’t giver her a chance though and comes by to take their orders for drinks and appetizers. leon looks back at her, his blue eyes burning deeply into her soul as if trying to read her from across the table. “so why are you not on the dating apps?” is the first question he asks her. she blinks at him dumbly for a moment, trying to process his question. “uhm…i just got out of a relationship in december. i didn’t really feel like joining when all guys on there are all looking for the same thing.” she manages to say with a surprisingly confident tone.

he nods slowly as if understanding, “i get it.’ he says as he sips on his own glass of water. “so your not like a commitment-phobe or anything?” he says as he looks at her, folding his hands on the table. she chuckles and shakes her head, her eyes briefly darting down to his hands on the table and then back up to him. “no, i’m the opposite. me and my ex were together for two years.”

he shakes his head, “must’ve been an idiot to let someone as beautiful as you go.”

she feels her cheeks heat up a little under the dim lighting of the restaurant, “he just…wasn’t feeling it anymore.” she says with a small nervous smile, “it happens.” he scoffs and his blue eyes darken for a second. “if he was really for you, sweetheart, trust me. he wouldn’t just stop feeling it.” he says with a small grimace. almost looking in pain for her, like he hated what he was hearing.

“why are you on a blind date then?” she says softly to him, trying to desperately change the subject. he sighs and leans back in his chair a little, looking at her, “i’m sick of bouncing around.” he says as he looks at her, his tone less teasing and more serious. “going from girl to girl…its not what i want. im not happy that way.” he says with a small glance at her.

she nods slowly in understanding as he talked, acknowledging his words. the waiter came and sat their drinks down in front of them, putting a brief pause on the conversation. his drink — a whiskey on the rocks, hers — a simple dr pepper. he notices the lack of alcohol but decides to wait until the waiter is done taking their orders. once, the waiter walks away, he nods towards her soda, “a dr pepper? no alcohol?” he says with another raise of his eyebrow.

“i doin’t like drinking on the first date.” she says as she looks at him then his drink, “you obviously don’t mind that.” her tone and edge of sarcasm as she sips on her drink pepper again. he chuckles lowly and shakes his head, his ash blonde hair moving with him, “giving me shit now for my drink choice?”

“yeah, you gave me shit for mine. don’t think i didn’t notice.” she says as she sits back a little in her own seat across from him, crossing her legs beneath the table.

they continue talking for hours, eating their food and sipping on their drinks as they talk. this was going better then she had planned, learning more about leon then she intended. he didn’t seem like the talkative type but when they started discussing jobs, past pets, family, really anything. he seemed to open up and tell her pretty much whatever she wanted to know.

after they finished eating, she went to order dessert but he stopped her. “i have dessert at my place.’” which made her stop, the rush of butterflies and nerves at his words was enough to make her nod, close the dessert menu and request the check.

which he paid, in full, with…a platinum credit card.

she knew he was working for the government but jesus, he just whipped out the platinum to pay for their meal. she felt measly with her silly little plastic card in her purse, letting him escort her out the restaurant. they walked down the sidewalk until they get to a sleek black escalade. “did you drive here?” he says as he digs his keys out of his jacket pocket. she looks at him and then the car, “yeah, i did.”

“how about…at the risk of sounding too forward, you come home with me? stay the night, you can take the bed if you want and…i’ll drop out back off at your car in the morning?” he says with a small tilt of his head, his blondish hair flopping by his ear as she looks at him. a small smile graced his features, she let out a small breath, turning the thoughts of potentially doing this in her head.

she nodded with a small smile on her face, “i would love too.”

he nods towards the escalade, “cmon,” he unlocks the escalade and opens the passenger door for her. she hesitantly moves forward and slides into the passenger seat, looking around the interior of the car. she was in awe, shed never been in a car this…big before. also, it made her wonder.

leon wasn’t flaunting his wealth, he didn’t even seem to mind that he was somewhat wealthy. it made her have even more questions about him. they didn’t seem to end the more she spent time with him. was he not aware of how fortunate he was?

she was torn away from her thoughts when leon got into the drivers side of the car. looking over at her with a small smirk, “what?”

“you drive an escalade.” she states with a small blink, he shrugs and chuckles a little, almost finding it humorous. “so?”

he doesn’t realize this does he? good god, he’s a humble guy. why is that such a fucking turn on?

“it’s just…the escalade, the platinum card…?” she says with a small blubber as she looks at him, “your rich.” she states with little to no care for how it sounded. he chuckles and shakes his head, “yeah? im not too bad, i’ve got money.” he says with a small flush of his cheeks as he puts the keys in the ignition. she rolls her eyes, of course he’s not going to admit it.

he starts the car, carefully pulling out of the parking spot. she swallows as she watches his hands from the passenger seat, the way his large hands encompass the steering wheel and turn it. she’s watching, almost drooling at how his veins in his hands. she sees him look over at her and she quickly darts her eyes away from basically eye-fucking his hands.

they were just…fuck, the things she would let those hands do to her.

he smirks in her peripheral vision, sliding one of his hands over the console and to the exposed knee of her dress, slowly squeezing it. she swallows, the touch was somewhat innocent but causing a herd of butterflies to swarm her stomach. she felt her underwear get uncomfortable already. she lets out a small shaky exhale, trying to act nonchalant.

she was so fucked.

she surprisingly made it back to his apartment in one piece. he was acting like a gentleman, even with his hand on her knee, keeping a steady hold on it as he drove. he didn’t raise his hand higher, a part of her wished he would’ve.

but he kept it on her knee, his whole hand practically engulfed that skin on her leg. she watched him drive out of the corner of her eye, studying him like a painting.

he was so gorgeous, even in the dim light of the streetlights. she was fully focused on him, his eyelashes, the way his eyes carefully and precisely watched the road.

the way he kept his lips — pink and full — pressed together as he studied every other car around them. he wasn’t afraid, he was focused. she wondered if he always focused on things like this, or if he was just like this when he drove.

but his attention seemed divided, one hand on her leg, his thumb even moving in small circles on her knee. she didn’t know how he did it all at once, all with ease. it was like he was handcrafted by some god, some amazing grace. she just couldn’t figure him out.

but it intrigued her.

even when he made it to his apartment, parking outside the building and pulling the keys out of the escalades ignition.

he moved with such precision and confidence, like he knew his next move before he made it. like he had a plan for every step he took. she wishes that she had that grace about her, she was clumsy and not put together at all.

but when they get out of the car, making their way to the doors of the lobby, he was holding onto her hand tightly. his hand engulfing hers as they walked. she liked the way his hand fit into hers, like it belonged that way. like it was meant to hold hers. she tries to fight the butterflies and the very obvious tension as they make their way to the elevator in the lobby.

once the elevator dings and they make their way into the elevator, she feels hotter, like the sexual tension of what’s to come is taking up all the air. she squeezes his hand a little, she feels his blue irises travel to her and stay there. he must’ve lived on the top floor, because they stood there for a moment. his free hand traveling up to her hair, pushing it away from her face.

“there’s those beautiful eyes.” he whispers, it sounded like he was saying it more to himself rather then her. her cheeks flushed all the same, connecting her own with his, a small smile sliding onto her lips. “i have beautiful eyes?” she whispers to him, almost afraid to break the spell, the tension that was slowly building as they got closer to his apartment.

he smirks slowly to himself, saying a little louder, “your eyes aren’t the only beautiful thing about you.” he says as he pushes more hair away from her face with his free hand, sliding his hand into her hair and holding it there. a small breath leaving her lips, letting them part as she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. this man was something else, making her act out on the first date. which she never did.

“look at you,” he whispers, “such a good girl, you look so pretty.” he praises lowly, still holding her hair at the base of her skull in a tight fist. he was forcing her to look up at him, she didn’t even hate how her underwear flooded with need for him — for his hands. she just accepts the praise with a small embarrassed smile. she didn’t know how else to react, no guy had ever praised her so openly, called her beautiful.

her ex, he took her out on dates and the sex wasn’t too bad. but he never showed her off, loved her openly, made her feel special. that was the ultimate lead up to him leaving her for some girl he didn’t even know.

and it broke her, she never thought she’d feel that way again.

but here, with leon, she felt that familiar want. that need to be his and his only.

and god, was it terrifying. he was such a good guy, so attractive. she was so afraid that she’d screw it up in some way.

but it’s better to say she tried and failed rather then give up altogether.

the elevator dinger for his floor, pulling her out of her thoughts and snapping her eyes back up to his. she felt his h=free hand slowly leave her hair and his hand with hers, pulling on it towards the hallway outside the elevator. her stomach was a mess of knots and nerves as she followed him. her eyes taking in the surroundings around her, letting him practically drag her to his apartment.

and as soon as she was inside of his apartment, his lips were on hers and she was getting pushed up against a door. the first thing she registers is how amazing his lips are and how they feel against hers. she feels like her legs are going to give out under her, her lips meld with his. everything is happening so fast and her brain doesn’t have time to catch up to all of it.

before she knows it, he’s carrying her into his apartment, kissing every inch of her neck and jaw with his tongue and teeth. she lets out small sounds as he kisses her in spots that haven’t been touched in months. he puts her down onto the bed, hovering over her as his blue eyes meet hers. he looks so haunting in the moonlight. his sharp jawline and features, the way his cheekbones reflect in the moonlight thats streaming through the window.

“i normally don’t do this on the first date but your just…” he runs his fingers over the side of her thigh, making her dress pool up to her hips, “so fucking beautiful.” he whispers between them, like its a secret. she feels her cheeks flush nonetheless. she feels his hand slide up her thigh to the edge of her underwear, lace that she put on and didn’t even anticipate this happening. she feels her breath quicken and her spine straighten under his touch.

he’s so methodical with his movements and it makes her think, the contrast difference between her ex and him. he’s so gentle, like she’s made of glass beneath his fingertips. her ex never had that, rough and demanding movements. she draws the difference as leon’s fingers slowly pull the lacy fabric down her thighs. she keeps wondering why his fingers and hands seem so calloused, she should have asked earlier at dinner, not when he’s exposing her to the cool air of his bedroom.

she exhales as her lacy underwear are tossed to the floor, suddenly his jacket is coming off and he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. she can only let her eyes trace the way his biceps are practically straining underneath the confines of his dress shirt, the way they flex when he grabs her ankles and drags her to the end of his bed. she feels her heart beat almost entirely out of her chest.

she can’t help it, she’s a soaking mess by now and the fact he can see that by looking in between her thighs is enough to make her cheeks heat up. she closes her thighs, pressing them together. he chuckles low in his throat as he looks down at her, “don’t hide from me. cmon.” he says as his blue eyes seem to darken under the harsh moonlight coming into his bedroom.

he gently opens her thighs, letting himself glance at her glistening arousal. “so wet already?” he says it as if its more of a statement, rather than a question. she nods under his gaze as if he has all the power over her right now and in a way, he does. and he knows it. “this all for me?” he says with an almost haunting smirk on his features that it causes her to sharply inhale. she nods again and feels her chest rise and fall beneath her dress.

“your boosting my ego too much, baby.” he says as he crawls over her, his hands bracing on either side of her head, he leans down so he’s nose to nose with her. his blue eyes almost blown out with lust for her, she recalls never being looked at this way by her ex. even when they had sex, he refused the intimate side and made her go face down in the pillows. but leon, he’s devouring her with his eyes right now and it almost makes her cry, but she doesn’t.

“what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” he asks when he sees her eyes become glassy, surely he knows. he has a feeling that he maybe rushed it. should’ve let you go home after the date but…you looked sad. he cups her chin, looking down into her eyes. that action seems to make it harder for her to speak but she forces words out of her mouth. “my ex…he never…” she swallows more tears down her throat.

he watches her expression so closely — so methodically — that he’s afraid if he blinks, he’ll miss something. but he lets her speak, his hand slowly cupping her cheek, rubbing his thumb over cheek in a soothing gesture. even though he’s hard as steel right now and her pussy is out in the open, he is solely focused on how she feels right now. she notes in her brain that this is another reason why she likes leon so much already.

but she forces herself to finish her thoughts, “my ex never…he never…” she chokes on the words again. she realizes that it sounds stupid coming out of her mouth now, she almost wants to push it to the side and jump leon’s bones. but he’s not going to let it go until he knows she’s okay. “he never looked me in the eye, never…he wasn’t gentle.” she whispers as she looks up at him. she feels choked up and she hates how silly she sounds. like a hurt little girl who skinned her knee.

he sighs softly against her lips and brushes some tears from the crevice of her eye. he understands what she’s saying, her ex wasn’t intimate. didn’t take his time with her, didn’t put her needs first and that just doesn’t sit right with him one bit. in fact, it bothers him beyond recognition. how could someone just abandon their partners needs, the need to be validated and be intimate? he couldn’t change that for her but he could show her that he wasn’t like her exes.

“im not like that, princess. you know that by now don’t you?” he whispers against her lips as he gently brushes some hair out of her face. she nods almost immediately, “i know.” she says against his lips, solidifying that she knows. he could not even be compared to her ex, not even close. leon was far better than him and she’s only known leon for like five hours.

“good. now, im going to fuck you now. but listen,” he gently grabs her chin, a firm but soft hold as he angles her eyes to his. “i am going to take my time with you because you deserve that. you deserve to be loved and cherished.” he says softly with a small hint of compassion in his blue irises as he strokes his hand up and down her dress clad side. “and i am not going to let you look away, your going to look at me the entire time.” he says with a firm but rugged gentleness that suited him down to his very core.

she just nods slowly in his grip, that being the only thing she can do with his grip on her chin. he smiles — a little twitch of his lips — making him seem ten times more softer then he actually is. he leans back on the bed on his knees, looking down at her. “off.” he gestures to the dress thats still covering her. she swallows and sits up on his bed, slowly and methodically shimming the dress off of her frame.

once it’s gone and on the floor with her discarded lace underwear, she plays with the strap on her matching bra. he puts his large and calloused hand over hers, stopping her. “let me.” he mutters as he moved on his bed behind her, his fingers slowly tracing along her shoulder and going to the bra strap. he hovers his mouth over neck, his other hand brushing her hair away from her back, pressing his lips to her neck with such delicacy. she feels like she would miss it if she couldn’t feel his fingers slide down to the clasp of her lacy bra.

and once it’s discarded, he finds himself hoisting her backwards onto the mattress again. his lips finding hers in a sweet but delicate kiss that says — i have you, trust me. and she does, she finds herself trusting him as his hands hold her gently but firmly, a strong hold that weighs on her heart and mind.

she looks up at him through lustful eyes two moments later, her gaze locking on his as he strips off his pants and shirt, discarding them all on the floor. the body of a greek god, yet littered with small scars that catch in the moonlight. she thinks that maybe he has his own demons, the ones that haunt him when he goes to bed at night.

but she doesn’t have time to wonder, his cock, if not perfect like the rest of him. is now out, his hand slowly stroking the hard shaft for some semblance of relief. she gnaws on her bottom lip as she watches him, she was completely and utterly soaked now.

she didn’t know how much longer she could last. she needed him.

he didn’t wait long to lean over her body, his elbows on either side of her head, much like before. his nose brushing against hers and she was bare as him. it should’ve made her nervous, made her scared beyond anything. but she didn’t have it in her to be scared, not when he was eyeing her like she was the holy grail.

he pressed another kiss to her lips, a little more rough this time, his tongue prodding at her mouth. begging for him to be let in. and how could she not oblige him? she let him in and he swirled his tongue with hers, her brain on autopilot and the conversation about her ex was long gone. the furthest thing from her mind at this point.

it was just him. his mouth and hers, the way his cock barely brushed against her soaked folds. she parted her knees more for him, accommodating his wide frame as he let a hand drift down to her hip, squeezing it as they sloppy made out.

a small moan slipped past her lips and onto his, his large hand kneading the extra fat of her hip and thigh and slowly he moved his hand in between them, brushing over her clit slowly. her breath caught a little and she couldn’t find words, she was wrecked already.

he chuckled lowly against her lips, words not exchanged as he guided his bulbous tip though her folds. soaking his tip in her release and making her tremble, small squeaks of arousal leaving her parted lips.

he found it amusing, if the expression on his face was any indication.

he silenced her again with a smooth press of hiss lips against her’s, soothing her worries and the small amount of anticipation she felt. he slipped just the tip inside of her, breaching her entrance. she gasped against his lips, he was big. it was just the tip and she was keening. practically clawing at his bare back. he pressed his lips more firmly against hers, sliding in another inch, his thumb rubbing circles at her hip.

as he eased in inch by inch, she tried to focus on his kisses rather then how much he was stuffing her full inch by torturous inch. it felt like her body was buzzing, it was too much and not enough at the same time. she moaned softly when he slid in the rest of the way, she opened her mouth against his. she couldn’t handle it anymore. she lets out a shaky breath.

her hands held tighter to his back as he slowly moved his hips against hers. his hand squeezing hard at her hip enough to bruise but she couldn’t find it in herself to care as he slowly moved his hips, moving in and out of her. she bit on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his head dipped into her neck. she choked on moan after moan as he groaned and grunted against her neck, matching her noises in his own ways.

she let her nails sink into his back as he pumped his hips a little faster. her head fell back against his sheets, her lips parted, eyes shutting in ecstasy as he started hitting that spot within her repeatedly. she wasn’t going to last long if he kept it up, his harsh groans and breaths echoing along her neck and up into her ear. his lips pressing harshly to the skin. every time her nails dug into his bare back, he bit a little at her skin.

the pleasure and pain was intoxicating as he kept moving his hips, making her whimper and whine. she tried to speak but her words were caught and mumbles of pleasure were the only things to leave her parted lips. her expression wiped and dazed with lust as she took everything he gave her. never in her life had she felt this way with sex. she felt like she was floating and grounded at the same time.

she felt her stomach coil, knowing she was close to climax. she wordlessly moved one of her hands from his back into his dirty blonde locks, pulling his head out of her neck and pressing her lips to his. he just smirked against her lips and moved his hips a little faster, seeming to understand what she meant without words. she moaned louder against his lips as he pumped faster and faster, her head felt dizzy. her head dropped back against his sheets again, not enough energy to keep her lips locked with his.

“thats it baby, come for me. c’mon.” he growls as he nips at her neck, his hand sliding from her hip to her clit. rubbing it with small brushes of his thumb, she squeaked as she looked up at the ceiling. her eyes glazed over as the coil in her belly finally snapped. “fuck, your…squeezing me like a vice.” he muttered in a groan. he felt her spasm around him, his hips slowing as he fucked her through it.

he fucked her through it until she was squirming, he moved his hand off her clit. determined to chase his own release as he moved his hips again. he pressed his chest against hers and gripped her hip again. she let out a shaky gasp as he started moving again. her eyes watering at the overstimulation she was feeling in the moment. “shh, its…i’m close, baby. just hang on.” he grunts against her collarbones as he keeps moving his hips. she squeezed him a little again and he hissed.

she nods with a small whine as he pumps a little faster, practically shaking his bed. she was wondering if it was going to break but it didn’t seem like it would. his hips stuttering as he bit into her collarbone, she gasped in pleasure as she felt his spend fill her up and fill her belly. she blinked at the ceiling as he sighed against her collarbone. letting himself be vulnerable for a moment in the aftermath of their bliss. he just kept her filled with his cock, rubbing a hand up and down her side. his mouth gently pressing a kiss to one of her breasts. “your amazing.” he whispers as his eyes shut and he breathes some air into his lungs.

she felt his words deep down to her very soul as he pulled out of her, a small noise of loss as he removed himself from her snug walls. he laid down on his side next to her, sliding a hand down her stomach and to her entrance again. his spend mixed with hers was leaking out of her abused hole, his finger scooped up the fluid and pushed it back inside of her.

his eyes flaring with that possessive nature. he drifts his blue eyes to her blissed out face. he removes his finger from her entrance and traces it up to her jaw. he gently cups her chin and smoothes his thumb over her bottom lip. “good?” he whispers gruffly as he scans her expression. she smiles dazedly and nods as she looks up at him. it wasn’t how she imagined the night going but getting to here, it was good. leon unintentionally was making her move on from the slump her ex put her in. she couldn’t be more grateful.

he smiles crookedly, almost shyly, as if he didn’t just fuck her raw into his mattress.

“stay the night. i make good breakfast.” he says softly with a small chuckle, the boyish charm peeking out from his hard facade he had up. she nods with a small giddy smile, “only if you make me pancakes.” she whispers as her eyes stay locked on his blue ones. he was truly a sight to behold. every part of him was and she didn’t know how he could be single. she had to wonder if maybe he chose that for himself, for what reason? she didn’t know. he was a great guy.

an amazing kisser. funny, great in bed. the list kept going.

but he was nothing like her ex, that was the best thing about him. he wasn’t selfish, conceded and rude. maybe leon was the perfect one for her. maybe he wasn’t but she was trusting her gut this time. and her gut was telling her to stay, to let herself be coddled and be held like something precious. she was letting herself be happy for once and only time would tell if they were meant to be.

even if it was the first date, she was in love. silly, but true as she gently cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to hers again. she felt connected to him in more ways then one. she was diving headfirst into him and she didn’t even care. she was happy.

and thats all that truly mattered.

screw it only being the first date, she was his now. and that was a comforting thought as she slipped her arms around him again and breathed him in. this is what love was, or close to it, she was sure. his arms already felt like home, no matter how dangerous that was, it was hers.

and his, as it should be. forevermore. wrapped in each other, no matter what.

exes be damned.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @squazmine @spfoah @jmivenus @rcttendolly @yakamozhoez (if you would like to join my taglist, visit the link at the beginning or the one linked on my blog!)

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leqonsluv3r · 5 months ago

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demon!leon kennedy x angel!reader anyone? any takers. this is just a loose mood board if i were to write it. i would love to make it a series. i also want to start dabbling in fantasy…lmk if that’s something you’d want. (im sorry this mood board sucks)

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leqonsluv3r · 5 months ago

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good heavens

Night Call

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: distance makes your best friend realize he only wants you and how bad he wants to prove it to you.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, videosex, vaginal fingering, self-stimulation, some fluff, friends to lovers, fantasizing.

a/n: heyy this is my first fic, i kind of got inspired by this tiktok trend.. “when he’s copying your snaps so you pull this move” and made it horny lol. also english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for any writing errors..and im open for opinions or requests!

wc: 3.8k

It was two am and it was pouring rain outside, which really fucked up your plans with your friends, but sitting there on your bed with no clock ticking at your back, fresh out of the shower, hearing the muffled noise of the drops crashing against the ceiling…you thought maybe you were kind of relieved. If you were completely honest, you weren’t so sure you wanted to go anyway.

It was the end of semester and everyone in the group had passed their finals, of course you were happy, and probably going by successfully your first year of college was a worthy reason to spend the night in a bar, getting tanked up, finally careless about classes, study sessions, summaries and flashcards. But then again, it was always a worthy reason when it came to your friends. So you thought this time you could sleep on it, unstained, thanks to the weather.

You put your phone on charge on your nightstand and for the first time in months you didn't have to worry about setting an alarm, nor did you have to calculate how many hours of sleep you were going to get; you had all the time of the world in your hands again and you wanted to use it to rest. You believed you had, at least, earned that…but Leon didn’t agree.

Your phone recently placed upon the wood buzzed violently against it for a short period of time. You decided to ignore it, not letting go of your peace of mind that easily. But then it came again, the same annoying vibration sound that the device emitted when it received a message, and you knew there was going to be more of it if you didn’t answer. You groaned and sat up at the third time, finally checking on it. You got a snap from him.

Leon Scott Kennedy. How could you begin describing him. You could say one thing for sure: he was your best friend. You and him met back in Raccoon City, many years and miles away.

At ten years old you weren’t very interested in making friends, but there just was this blonde persistent boy who would somehow always manage to knock on your door at three pm no matter the forecast. You found it…curious. It turned out that you were neighbors, well, you shared block, and soon enough you ended up sharing a table, movie nights and walks at the park. You got used to those sudden visits and having him around for lunch or renting Dvd’s. By the time you remembered to look back it was too late, you didn’t remember what it was like to not know him. You couldn’t imagine someone else’s name coming out of your mother’s mouth when you were bored, upset or just standing there alone; that you found dangerous, because for a moment the thought of him no longer around crossed your mind, and you didn’t like how it felt. But you got rid of the sensation and convinced yourself that it wasn’t going to become true, not until a long time at least. Growing up seemed so far away.

Eight years flew by—high school ended so quick that you barely could process it—, and it was funny because by that time you looked like two completely different people, but you were essentially the same. You remember looking at Leon at graduation and thinking that maybe his hair looked more golden and his eyes less cold before…wondering if he was also thinking about you and changes, those passed and those that were about to happen. You were too afraid to ask.

You knew what was coming. Leaving Raccoon City, different universities, no more knocking at each other’s door nor “accidentally” meeting on purpose in the street. It felt wrong in so many ways. The last time you saw each other you felt a torrent of tangled words stuck in your throat, hoping that maybe he would put some order onto them and express them properly. You both stayed silent. Leon hugged you tighter than ever without warning and you thought it was the end of you, that you would never be able to leave, but he walked you to the bus and placed a kiss on your forehead. A strained whisper of goodbye lingered in the air, you didn’t say it back. You wanted to yell at him for making it feel so real…so final. Instead you got on the bus and left.

There was no romantic ending, no parking lot chase, no confession, no instant regret. It was just life being its usual self: a bitch. So along the road, you prepared yourself for the worst; not hearing from him in weeks, lose contact, eventually turn into strangers.

But damn he was persistent.

Leon made sure to text you every night, every time he found the chance, and you wanted to slap yourself for thinking that the boy that showed up at your door almost nine years ago was going to disappear on you. You started to wish he had though, he was insufferable…silly pics at lunch, drunk texting, explicit detail in explaining every moment of his day. But still like that, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him like crazy — you practically didn’t see each other in all year, and you weren’t that far, it was a three hour drive tops, but adapting to class and work schedules just filled your agendas. This was all you really had.

“ you up? :P ” the text says on a faint black bar above the photo. It’s a selfie of him laying in bed, using his usual black t-shirt, sticking a part of his tongue out — barely revealing the piercing he got that last summer you shared together.

A mid smile grows on your face as you imitate his pose and mess up your hair a little, taking a selfie where half of your face reaches to appear, instantly closing your eyes cause you tend to forget about flash. The pic turns out nice though; the color of your eyes softer because of the light, your hair spread over the pillow, your shoulder sneaking into the neck of the oversized shirt you were using “ now i am :/ ” you text upon it and send it.

Leon feels the rush when he gets your notification, opening the picture and licking and slightly biting his lower lip as he sees you. He grins reading your text and types out his response “ hey, you look nice. you should wear my clothes more often, it’s hot ”

Over the year he had started throwing out these flirty comments—even if he had always been sort of that way—distance made him a little more bold. You chuckle when you read him and look down. It was his indeed, a Nirvana t-shirt, you haven’t really noticed until now. It was no surprise either way, you may have taken a couple of his t-shirts, but just the oldest and most worn ones…he wouldn’t miss them that much, right?

“ oh right, i forgot this one is urs..lol ”

“ keep it, it looks better on ya ” he replies, his thoughts already starting to slide about the fabric of his shirt hugging your form “ anywayyy, what u up to? couldn’t sleep? ”

“ i mean, i was trying to… ”

“ too tired to talk to me? ): ” he asks, and even through a screen you could feel his cocky tone. You aren’t, in fact, you are wide awake now.

“ miss me too much? ” you snap back, pretending to have a vain demeanor, but his answer caught you off guard.

“ a lot, actually. i don’t know what it is about tonight. you should come over. ”

Sometimes it was like this with Leon, you hardly could tell when he was playing. You wanted to believe that moments like this were true disruptions of vulnerability where sense came into him, spilling out his real feelings about you, but you also wanted to protect what you had. So you cut him clean and simple “ can’t, gotta work tomorrow ” you text upon a goofy pic of yourself, sticking out part of your tongue like he did before and raising your arm, as if showing off your biceps and strengthening your point. It is true, you couldn’t, but you found yourself fantasizing about grabbing your keys and heading there anyway.

Leon can’t help but burst into laughter in his lonely college dorm, he immediately takes a screenshot and types out his response, still chuckling a bit “ damn, i’ll just have to entertain myself ig..nice abs btw ”

The notification of the screenshot pops up in your phone “ you took a screenshot..? fuck you, thats not fair ”

He keeps laughing, thinking about how he’ll tease you with that picture in the future, switching apps and entering his photo album to contemplate it “ is it not? idk, i might as well turn it into my new wallpaper ”

Fucking bastard, you think to yourself “ now you gotta send me one doing the same thing so i can have it too, for it to be justice i mean ”

He smirks, thinking about the possibility. You stay silent looking at the blank chat until the picture arrives and your mouth runs dry for a second; he’s leaning against his headboard, a mix of blonde and silver highlights certain strands of his messy hair, leon’s making a silly face with his arm raised up, flexing his muscles. It’s a short sleeve t-shirt, so yeah, you see them clearly. You lick your lips and screenshot it.

“ enjoy it ” he says.

“ oh, i will ” the line between joking and honesty is blurring.

Leon just can’t stop here.

“ could u send me more? ” the truth is, he was pretty needy right now.

You had to put your phone down for a sec, what was up with him all of the sudden?, but even confused you stand up and head to the bathroom, turning your lights on and facing the mirror, looking at yourself wearing only his shirt and your bottom underwear. You pull up your phone and pose for a picture, grabbing the end of the shirt a little to press it against your hip and trace your curves, barely revealing the beginning of your panties “ like this? ” you send it. Holy shit, you can’t believe you actually did it. Why? You try to delete it but he opens it first.

Leon was trying to distract himself cause you stopped answering and he was feeling more and more anxious, but then he looks at what you sent. He sees your thighs, your hips stuck to his shirt, the corner of your panties. He swallows hard and feels his whole face warming up, the bulge growing inside of his pants. After a few seconds he finally replies “ fuck, yeah. maybe i’ll go to you now ”

“ shut up ” you’re practically burying your face in your pillow, trying to calm down. How is he able to make you feel like this being so far away?

“ make me ;) ”

“ you wish ” you laugh quietly.

“ damn right i do ” that’s it, you’re done with his teasing.

“ dont you have like, plenty of other girls to sextext with? ” you bring up, it’s not like you haven’t thought about it before, leon being with other people in college.

“ i mean..maybe?, but i only want you. ” you feel your breath hitching, what. the. fuck.

“ yeah, right ”

He rolls his eyes, it kinda hurt him you didn’t believe him after all this time, but he couldn’t blame you either. You both kept a nice, respectable friendship for so long, none dared to cross the line…somehow it felt risky, as if the small town you two inhabited was going to crumble apart under your feet for a kiss. But now, why should he hold back?

“ i am being serious yk.. ” leon’s thoughts about you had stopped being so friendly a couple of years ago.

“ and how exactly could i believe you? ” you weren’t going to jump first.

He sighs, feeling frustrated, he truly means it.

“ how can i prove it to you? ”

“ im sure you’ll think about something ”

Leon runs a hand through his hair, lifting his head with the movement and staring at the ceiling for a while. He has an idea in mind, but wouldn’t it scare you away?

“ make sure your volume is up ” he finally says.

“ tf..? okay ” he stares at your response for a second, then press call before he can overthink it. It’s a video call, so he quickly sits up. You are surprised by it, but you answer anyway. He can’t help but let a smile spread across his face when you appear on his screen. Leon’s sitting up against the headboard with his pillow to his side.

“Hey” he mouths out, still smiling.

“Hey…?” you reply, pulling your phone against one of your pillows and letting it rest there, focusing on sitting.

His pulse quickens as he looks at your screen; he’s taking in your appearance, your bare legs, the way his shirt hangs off your shoulder showing some of your collarbone. His mind goes blank for a second before he starts talking.

“You really look cute in my shirt” he whispers.

You roll your eyes and smile “So, what is this about?” you ask, trying to decode him out.

“It’s what you asked for…proving” he mutters. His heart is beating faster, his palms are a bit sweaty and he’s nervously biting the inside of his cheek. It’s more difficult than he thought.

Your eyebrows frown a little and you take off a strand of hair out of your face, pulling it behind your ear “How so?”

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s just nervously rambling in his head what he wants to say…and he doesn’t want to seem too out of character — but Leon can’t hide it anymore, you bring out that side of him, and he’s so eager to show you how much you’re the only one he wants.

“Just…watch alright?”

You end up nodding in response, not quite sure about what’s going to happen.

Leon takes a deep breath and slowly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest — That steals a little of your breath away, but you keep watching, like he asked you to — he tosses the shirt aside and looks back at the camera, his eyes locked with yours through the screen. He swallows hard, noticing your change of expression. He runs his fingers through his messy hair and then drags them down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his boxers.

Oh.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yeah…what is it?”

“Can you…sit on your knees for me, please?” he manages to say, a pleading look in his eyes.

You’ve never seen Leon like this.

You sit there for a moment, processing everything that's happening. It's going so fast, or is it not? Maybe all those years of holding back are making up for it. You hum softly as a response and slowly lean your legs back, laying on your hands until you sit on your knees, looking at the screen in search of approval.

His breath catches seeing how perfect you look right now, feeling his heart pound even harder. One hand moves to adjust himself through his boxers, trying his best not to make it too obvious "Yeah, just like that..." the way your legs are slightly parted is driving him crazy “Would you pull the shirt up a bit more?”

You look down at yourself “How much?” you ask just to tease him a little, gently grabbing the hem of the shirt.

He swallows once more and you can see how his Adam’s apple goes up and down. He wants to see more of your thighs, he wants to see the lace of your underwear peeking through. He takes a shaky breath and licks his lips "Can you pull it up to your hips?"

You look elsewhere and start pulling the shirt up, revealing the panties that it was covering and eventually your stomach. You wanted to see his reaction, but you were too embarrassed. Meanwhile his mouth goes dry, he can't believe how beautiful you look — and he’s seen you before, but this is just something else, it feels totally new “Can you look up at the camera instead of down?”

“Y-yeah, of course”

God, you're so fucking pretty. He feels his dick twitch in his boxers, growing slightly hard, just by you laying eyes on him like that “Keep your eyes on the camera and pull the shirt up just an inch more... please?"

“Okay” you do as he says, now revealing just a part of your breasts, noticing how he ends up biting his lower lip. He starts unbuttoning his jeans and just the sound of it makes you a little dizzy.

“Do you trust me?” his voice comes out deeper than intended, huskier “Like…really trust me?” he needed to know that you were okay with this.

“I do, totally”

He smiles softly at that, feeling a warmth in his chest. He slowly pulls his jeans and boxers down, freeing his hard dick. He keeps it hidden from the camera for now though “Kay…cause I have another request...a bit of a weird one"

“Tell me”

“It might sound dirty too—well…it is” he chuckles nervously “Could you…could you touch yourself?, over the shirt I mean, above your tits”

You swallow and pull your shirt down again “It’s okay…yeah, but are you sure about this?” you ask one last time before crossing the line definitely, you needed to know that this was actually happening, and that he wasn’t going to regret it tomorrow.

“I’m sure—I want to show you how you make me feel” he states that with a raw certainty that makes you shiver.

You share a few seconds of silence where you recognize each other, one last moment before jumping off the cliff and leaving your friendship behind before you move your hands up slowly, encountering your breasts, highlighting them between your grip and moving them delicately, feeling how your nipples start hardening. One last moment before his breath grows heavier at the mere shape of you, getting lost in the path that your fingers trace. One last moment before his hand descends carefully to his cock, wrapping itself around it and stroking it.

“Fuck…” he whispers.

The only thing you get to see is Leon's hand moving in the screen, but you know exactly what he's doing, so you decide to take matters into your own hands too — you get rid of your shirt, letting your hair slide over your bare shoulders, some over your breasts…and a low groan is heard across the line “You look even better without it”

Is there a moment when Leon Kennedy can be serious?

“You can show me” you say, close to asking, and Leon moves the pillow that was blocking your field of vision, revealing his low pants and massive erection “Holy shit…” you don’t intend to be mean, but the whole situation makes you chuckle.

“Shut up” he keeps taking care of it, pulling his head back as he laughs a little as well, probably hiding his embarrassment. He never felt this with any other girl, that heat rising up his neck and spreading across his cheeks... which was strange, because he did sleep with many of them, and did much more naughty things than videosex. But it was you.

You cover your eyes while laughing and then rest both arms on your sides “I mean, it’s hot seeing you”

“Oh, yeah?” he looks back at you “well, seeing you it’s definitely arousing too” it seems like he scans over your body, but you can't really tell over that size of the image.

“What else do you want to see of me?”

“Mmh…” he murmurs as if thinking, his other hand reaching for a small bottle of lotion he had nearby. He pours some on his hand, making it slick “would you spread your legs a little?”

You settle down, propping yourself up on your elbows, and do it...you're wearing red, lacy panties, so at least you don't have to worry about that.

“Shit, you’re wet”

“What?” you see yourself through your cell phone, there is a part of your underwear that looks darker red, it's barely noticeable but it shows just enough “uh..yeah, i guess that happens”

“It’s okay—fuck, it’s hot” his strokes become more frenzied, desperately seeking release "Could you... touch yourself through your panties? Feel how wet you are?"

“Yeah..” you bite your lip, taking a breath before sliding two fingers beneath the fabric. It felt great finally doing it, a soft moan slides from your mouth and you can’t avoid closing your eyes and let yourself be carried away by Leon’s noises.

He watches in awe as you start touching yourself, his hand changing the pace so as not to come so quickly "Oh god...fuck...yes…just like that..." he groans, his eyes fixed on the sight of your fingers moving against your soaked underwear "Talk to me, baby"

After a few minutes your back arches a little when the friction takes effect, eventually you start letting out whimpering noises because of his damned voice “It feels so good..I wish it was you”

“Fuck, do you?” the thought of it makes his whole body tense with need “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes, so bad” your fingers go faster and your voice a little higher, your free hand twisting the sheet.

“Are you close, baby?” Leon matches your rhythm, doing his best to keep looking at the screen and not just bend his head back against the pillow.

“Y-yeah”

He groans, his hand stroking tighter as he imagines his fingers buried inside you “Go deeper..pretend it’s me, yeah?”

You do as he says, looking at the screen for a sec and catching his glistening chest going up and down “Fuck, Leon”

“I’m right here..” he mutters, his words punctuated by guttural groans as he jerks himself faster, imaging sliding his hard dick deep into your warm, dripping heat “I only want you”

“Keep talking, please, say my name”

He does a few times, giving himself some tight and fast jerks, his voice growing desperate and driving you to the edge “Hmm, that’s it baby, look at me”

“Leon..Leon, fuck!” you say until you feel your hand getting wet and you pull it off. He follows you, his cock pulsing in his grip until relief arrives, ending up in cum covering his stomach and chest. He stares intensely at the screen, panting heavily as he watches you recover from your orgasm "Holy fuck..."

“Holy shit” you say almost at the same time, breathing with difficulty, putting your phone on your night table.

“Are you okay?” he asks with a small chuckle, wiping off the mess on his chest with the t-shirt he threw away earlier.

“Yeah, fucking great” you reply, back in your sassy demeanor.

“I assume you believe me now?” his smirk is back on, trying hard to bury that image of a needy leon, but you know better.

“It's going to take a little more than that, but let's just say I'm closer to”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy x reader #leqonsluv3rrecs

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leqonsluv3r · 6 months ago

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been writing like a mad man trying to get this one shot up, good lord. i should be getting paid for this shit.

#leqonsluv3rrambles #leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #re2 leon #re4 remake #re2 remake #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy au

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leqonsluv3r · 6 months ago

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SHES DONE IT AGAIN!!!!

ugly little secret(s)

✎ Your cheeks are burning with rose-rotted chagrin. February 2nd, 1998. Leon. 21. Multiply, add, divide, and subtract. Do all the math. The upshot is all the same. Your boyfriend’s terrifying older brother is a fucking porn star. Or... was a porn star. God, does that even matter?

cw: fem!reader and has she/her pronouns, boyfriend’s brother ouchchch, shameless smut, drinking, cheating, humiliation, he rlly is an asshole therefore a tad ooc, semi-public sex, hair pulling, fingering, biting, ex-porn star (actually camboy but nevermind) leon omg, biting, degradation and praising, facials, oral (male receives) world count: 8k (uhm) tiny note: the second request during a perilous ovulation week, and im quite excited/scared with this one, i did imagine og re4 leon but with remake’s face while writing this cuz og leon’s eyes r scary + i despise making banners and suck big time euugh

Wielding the spare key in your hand, you click a few times on the door, and it slithers automatically open. You make barely a sound since the minute hand and the hour hand have long crossed the midnight horizon. Dragging your bulging overnight bag inside, you step through the door of your boyfriend’s apartment building. A gloomy curtain of secrecy reigns inside. But what’s this? Your boyfriend knew you were on your way. What’s with sending his girlfriend to Coventry now?

Pity, looks like your dreams of getting those welcome hugs and kisses are dashed. Alas, you can’t stop the clock. Unpack your clothes, and you can always give him a call later, let him know you’re home.

To get things rolling, you hang the key on the coat rack in the foyer and mosey onto the kitchen for a glass of water. When you pull the handle of the fridge open, an abstruse smell filters into your nostrils. It’s not your fragrance and certainly not that of your boyfriend. A shade of a strange skin and other colors ride on the current.

Oh, he better not be cheating on you.

Out of dark, dark blues, the lightest nudge on your shoulder from the hands that have been sneaking up on you from behind spooks you. The hairs on your arms stand on end, and thorns effloresce on your skin—the kind of thorns that would cut open your flesh should you skim your fingers over them.

Your instinct, the one that will perchance drive you to your death, blindly dashes the glass of water in your hand in the face of the man behind you.

You get an offended and curt grunt of a veto.

That face bathed in water is actually quite recognizable, albeit a face you don’t see around you very often. The furrow of his brow is sunken, absolutely splotched with indignation—quite irascible.

Oh?

Oh.

Leon.

Your boyfriend’s big brother.

What a lovely first impression you made on him. Unfuckingbelievable.

You think he wouldn’t mind (he would, and he does). Credit where it’s due, the guy is barely in the menage picture; you do see him for a heck of a long time. He’s always off somewhere on a “job,” but you can’t get a sliver of a clue what the hell he’s pulling off as a “job.”. The gist of it is that Leon Kennedy leads a life that would surely inspire a private sleuth—and Leon never holds anyone personally accountable for it.

Rarely do you catch him cracking a mordant smile, which adds mingy zeros to the myriad percentages of his almost impossible odds. You have to cut him some slack, though, ‘cause he did help you once when you couldn’t get the lid off the pasta sauce.

“Fuck! Leon, I’m sorry. You’re—I mean—holy shit! You’re so stealthy, I thought you were a burglar.” You excuse yourself with a nebulous mewl.

A softer flicker of sympathy flits across his face, just duskily.

“’s fine.”

You know it’s not fine. You know it perfectly well.

His words may assure you that it’s okay, but his eyes are definitely looking at you like, “Were you really planning to confront a would-be thief by splashing water in his face?”

You can’t help but descry how Leon harnesses the same blue as his brother in the circles of his irises—a tint of sapphire that bucks the blues of the rivulets. They are dark too. No adequate translation of this chromatic parallelism.

For no discernible rhyme or reason, you look around wary to atone for your self-pity, and your eyes wander to the roll of tissue folded atop the kitchen table.

With a tear of a leaf, you pat the toweling paper into the droplets that trickle down his chin, a bead, or even two.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Leon inveighs.

He’s the kind of person capable of morphing into a scary person when he wants to. Makes you so wired, but he does it so well.

“What are you, my mother?”

The damp and tattered lump of paper in your hand falls to the floor, and you raise your hands in midair as if in groveling surrender. No need for much falsification.

“Of course not!”

The last time you felt this dejected in your life was in elementary school when your teacher dragged you out to recite a sonnet from fucking Marlow. And you fucked up so bad. Surely now, these nanoseconds are going straight into the collection of your second most cringe-worthy memoirs.

“So, what’re you doing here?” You clear your throat.

“Just visiting. Temporarily. Got a flight by tomorrow.”

There’s your answer.

But you want to know more. You always do.

“Uhm. Where’s your brother again?”

“I dunno. Said he had to deal with some stuff in the office before he left.” Leon brushes at the wetness on the collar of his t-shirt with a napkin petal he rips off afresh.

“Oh, that makes total sense. He didn’t say anything to me before I got here, y’know. So I thought the house would be empty since I didn’t see him—but you came out of nowhere, and I got all antsy!” You run off at the mouth, rocking on the balls of your feet awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leon hacks your words to pieces all over with a shiv. A tasteless night for you and your speech clumps in your throat, burning your airway so bitterly.

“Whatever. I’m going out. Gotta change first, all thanks to “someone” pouring water over my fucking head.”

Allusions and epithets shape his voice into thumbnail knives, and they stab steadily and directly at you. You bleed trickles of mortification.

He won’t even spare a backward glance at your face.

He wanders out of the kitchen, and you just sulk after him.

Eighteen messages you send to your boyfriend, and every time you dial his number, the line rings dead air. Sprawled out on his bed, you try to decompress, but it’s all for naught. Time is repentant to elapse while you’re all alone. Can’t sleep either since you didn’t shy away from drinking a whole cup of coffee. All that has happened to you now is indeed no one else’s but your own fault.

It’s your feet that carry you out of the room again. Inside, it’s colder—there’s one less person and one less blood circulation. Leon must have left, and it’s fairly late.

What a laugh; it boggles your mind as to why this man is like this and why he would go out at this hour, but perhaps your theorem of him being a crook holds some meed of credence.

Who cares? To hell with all the Kennedys.

They’re all rude and... handsome and pretty. Candies for the eyes, so to speak.

On the TV unit, a picture framed with teak wood catches your eyes. A mother, a father, and their two sons. Leon looks younger here. He looks more... puerile and similar to his mommy. Ah, there’s your boyfriend. As for him, he’s a minor character—non sequitur—even through your eyes.

Just blame it on human nature to curry favor for the better and more pleasant ones. It’s simpler that way.

Quite on the fly, the Kennedy brothers’ cat skitters towards you, a gust of wind coming from your left, from your boyfriend’s bedroom.

“Oh, gosh! What the hell?”

Surviving an attack by a cat without a single scratch wasn’t an entry in your mental dossier for this particular evening. What a creepy cat. He reminds you of Leon, to be honest: a grumpy, feral, black cat and quite conniving. A cunt, literally.

You’re fixing your hair properly, but things turn up a notch when you notice that your earring is missing—the one that usually grazes your hair when you push a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyebrows spontaneously knit into a rictus frown.

“Stupid kitty.” You mutter to yourself, and your eyes sweep over the surroundings, looking for anything and everything. And voila! You hit the jackpot. A pair of hoop earrings glint in the corner of the bookcase. You waddle on your knees and reach for your precious bijou. Eyes on the floor, your head tilts a fraction from your preoccupation with the insertion of the clamp into the tiny hole in your earlobe. Then you see a small box. It’s one thing for it to be hidden out of sight, quite another for it to be so incredibly grotesque. A jejune beige-colored corrugated box tucked under the bookcase. On it is a stamped label that reads “1998.” That’s like 6 years ago.

Curiosity claws at your guts, and the incisal edges of your teeth zing your bottom lip.

But you’ve already opened the grimy, dust- and paper-covered lid of that box.

A box full of some movie cassettes. About ten, possibly more. What the deuce is this?

It’s hard to pick one out, but somehow you pluck the one that has fallen to the very bottom of the line.

You insert the deck into the tape recorder’s lizard-like tongue.

The television comes to fruition with horizontal and vertical lines that weave in and out of the harmony of blues and greens. Butterflies of distress swirl inside you—something is about to rock the boat. You clutch the remote control tightly to your heart.

February 2, 1998.

A LITTLE PRE-LAUNCH AND WARM-UP.

The screen confronts you with a dark display that momentarily startles you with the reflection of your own agitated features. Whoever this director is, he should never direct a battle in the middle of darkness and winter for the next years!

The screen jerks and shakes some more, lumberingly, and you can see the... thighs of a figure, a man (?).

Fuck. This is the shot.

This is the fucking Leon, his face chubbier on the tape; tender, and with the baby fat now minus his chiseled, washed-out cheeks.

Leon, that very adorable Leon, as in the family portrait, is now sitting there with his considerably big dick in the palm of his hand... pumping the hell out of himself. His hair is darker, brown maybe. And there’s a woman you’ve never seen before, on all fours, sucking on testicles that were probably heavy enough to make mincemeat of the camera if they were to hit against the screen.

“So—suck—big. Gosh, I love them so much, naughty boy. Just like how I love my men younger but with huge cocks. You gonna fuck me after I suck this pretty dick, pretty boy?”

She’s talking dirty and smearing Leon’s balls with bright red rouge, sucking and guzzling on his sacks like there’s no tomorrow. God, how’s this even possible? Can she even breathe?

“Y-yes, ma’am. I’ll give you anything you want,” Leon, in return, stammers amateurishly.

Everything and everyone is looking at you, with all their obscenity and prurience. Everything on the screen. And you’re staring back at them.

“Fuck this!”

A crude tap on the red button of the remote and the screen is the dimness of the night welkin again.

Your cheeks are burning with rose-rotted chagrin.

February 2nd, 1998.

Leon. 21.

Multiply, add, divide, and subtract. Do all the math.

The upshot is all the same.

Your boyfriend’s terrifying older brother is a fucking porn star. Or... was a porn star. God, does that even matter?

You’re giving yourself a wake-up pinch on the arm. You need to know if this is a dream or if your mind is playing some sick trick on you.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Your eyes HAVE witnessed everything. What else can you do but believe them?

Leon was there; he was in that bed, and between his knees was a woman giving him the head of his dreams. That Leon, proud and awed, whimpering in his gruff voice.

What the fuck?

It all makes so much sense if you give yourself a chance to ponder it. It’s psychedelic. So, Leon is obviously someone living his own life on his own, but everything he’s done in the past is just a sliver of time littered with wrongdoings.

Either that or it isn’t. It may or may not be a flaw to be a porn star. Correction: an ex-porn star. You really don’t know. You’re all over the place, but there’s a voice inside you questioning why this should even concern you in the first place.

Really? What do you care? How is that any of your business?

Leon’s nothing to you, and you’re nothing to him. He sure as hell despises you, and after your gaffe tonight, it’s a very real likelihood that you’re one of the top three names he’s written in his personal journal of people he holds in contempt.

Your gaze falls on the cat, licking his paws. He stares blankly at you, and you at him. Subsequently, the rattle of keys and the sound of the front door unlocking—you know perfectly well what kind of timbre it grates—jar you out of your haze of apathy. Immediately, you stash the remote in your hand under the cushion on the couch. You never know.

You sink into the armchair, push the ‘Pandora’s’ box (it sure had some scandalous stuff in it, alright) under the bookcase, and snatch the first book that randomly comes to your hand from the bureau.

The patter of footsteps coming in matches Leon’s boots. You watch him walk in like a soldier on standby, but sitting down. You are, indeed, the greatest example of how this can even physicalize.

“You haven’t gone to bed yet?”

You shake your head no. Won’t breathe a word after everything has happened. He’s very much on the same page.

The suspense between you is so thick you could hear a pin drop.

“Felt like reading a book at this hour?” Leon sounds painfully austere. As usual and as he should be.

“Yeah.” You wave the book in your hand at him. It spells “Twilight.” A pop-culture pulp book that cryptically no one can keep out of their hands, in a macabre sort of way.

“You’re reading a vampire romance for teenagers? At 4:00 a.m.?”

“Yes...”

You keep repeating the same words like a double robot or like a refrain of a nursery rhyme.

Leon pitches in by keeping schtum. Inwardly, he feels sick ‘cause he has frightened you more or less. He isn’t a complete asshat, sure, but he certainly hasn’t had a very good sense of how he would behave with people he isn’t exactly in rapport with. Until then, and even now, he feels up in the air, especially next to you.

“Well... I’ll just watch some TV.”

Oh.

Oh, hell fuck.

He said “television,” and you heard it very lucidly.

The television still tuned to the tape recorder, and the very television still screening the tape in its monochrome black frame.

“Ah! No, Leon. I think it’s totally overkill. It’s so late, right?”

Here come your eccentricities.

“Nah, you’re the overkill. I’m bored. I’ll just channel surf and go to bed anyway.”

“I think you should just go straight to bed, Leon. Look under your eyes. I don’t think purple eye circles flatter you.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that the pills ain’t helping.” His razor-sharp eyes are roving to pinpoint the remote. “The pharmacist said Zolpidem does wonders; he raved and gushed about it. Fuck that guy and the other guys beside him.”

“You do take pills to fall asleep?”

“I do.”

“Haven’t you tried taking some... melatonin gummies?”

Anything to keep the conversation away from the hidden remote.

To your surprise, Leon vacillates in the span of a heartbeat’s whisper. Melatonin hadn’t even dawned on him then, but instead of letting you find out, he’d rather jump off the veranda, thank you very much.

He prods you a little and digs out the remote control that you placed under the cushion, as if he himself had planted it there.

Oh, boy.

You really need to stop what’s happening and what’s most likely to happen. One way or another, you have to do it, or you’ll be the guilty one here and —

The damned TV switches on as soon as Leon hits that second button.

— and you’re the voyeur watching your boyfriend’s brother’s porn videos. It’s now official.

That’s what you are. Officially, a pervert.

A blanket of quiescence suffuses the room unless you count the gagging and Leon’s tinny whimpers filtering through the telly.

Oh, how you need a new epithet right now, one to define infamy and beyond.

You can’t see what kind of spectrum is delineated on his face. How dare you look at him anyway? How dare he look at your cherry-cheeked face when a twenty-one-year-old Leon’s fucking a milf’s mouth on the display?

The karmic equation of the situation is so complex that his eyes finally apprehend yours. You can tell how far-fetched it all is without even meeting his perusal.

“I didn’t mean to! I swear I found them under the bookcase.”

You meander, glaring at the vinyl flooring, a handful of stray words only barely pinging out of your mouth.

“I mean, it’s your fault. Who leaves personal belongings out in the open?” You try again.

Leon is nowhere with you.

In the room, in all, everything is dead silent. The porn video has fallen dead silent too; there is no other noise punctuating the room than the sound of a clock’s rivets pursuing each other. This must be what dying feels like. Cold, pitch-black darkness and nary a sound. Like a mausoleum, but a mausoleum at 4 o’clock or so.

“And yet you had to butt in.”

Looks like he’s about to rip you a new one right here and there. Hard not to be flummoxed; all glassy-eyed and mouth agape. Even his glare is chopping the remaining of your exiguous logic.

“That’s not what it looks like!”

“Oh, is that so?”

Written on his face is the projectile vomit of aversion to you. It’s the kind of vitriol that will drive you fifty feet under the ground, and the blues of his eyes aren’t malleable—no azure pinpricks. Asperity in the green, bloodshot eyes.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t paw at everything you happen to see, huh?”

It would be really nice. If you had the decency to recognize your boundaries, this would never have had to happen. You’d have remained two virtual strangers, and perhaps you could have dimmed the tingles between your legs for him. That much exposure to porn makes anyone wet; fair play to you. The problem is that you’re soaking wet for your boyfriend’s blood and kin.

That’s what makes you a wench: your anatomical reaction—if you want to gloss over the obvious.

What the hell is wrong with you?

“The fuck are you still doing here? You deaf or something?”

His question—equivalent to him banishing you from this place—rocks your whole world to the ground. You may agree with Leon, but you still can’t come up with the flimsiest excuse to stop yourself from hating him. How he refuses to believe you precisely because it’s cheap to write you off as the wanton one.

You need to do something about it.

Guts suddenly coursing through your body, you retort, “It’s not like I’m looking forward to being here anyway. What a fucking weird family you have. Christ! Your moron brother cheats on me; I try to ignore it, and when I try to do something to clear my head, I see a porn video of the man who will be my brother-in-law.”

Oh. Ouch. Now you have done it.

That felt so good. The ultimate and only panacea: spewing out the poison that had clogged inside you.

So much so that even Leon finds himself reeling. The feeling of being enough to sway him— however, fleetingly—gives you a strange sense of vindication.

“You give him the ring. I’m done with any of this.”

You fling the ring aside and it thuds down on the floor.

Indubitably, you slam the door stormily before you leave. Just like a movie scene. It’s overly melodramatic, but it must be executed. (Note: you’ll probably throw up in the toilet when you remember the antics you’ve just carried out).

After that night of odium; you now avoid any place in your daily life where you ever read the acronym “Kennedy.” Conversely, you cast withering glares at people’s mouths before the birth of anything that begins with the L-word. The stakes are alpine.

Over and over, your now ex-boyfriend texted and paged you, and you didn’t return a single one of them. As if you didn’t walk in on him with the girl in the office—time and again—on the desk, his ugly hand and zaftig fingers under the girl’s pencil skirt. You weren’t born yesterday, and while your ex was snoring his ass off to sleep, you were engrossed in reading his texts to other blonde girls with small tits and waists.

All those nights when you went into the living room and read Fur Coat Madonna under the dim lamp as if nothing had actually changed.

You had only one simple answer for why you put up with it: sublimity. You lusted after money; you had a yen for power and glory.

A grounded family—the Kennedys were what you were looking for. Young and adolescent girls, young Americans, loved the handsome, blond men and their pretty eyes. To be one of their girlfriends—they’d murder someone or start a cult even, really.

Luckily, your father’s pedigree and the blood that runs through your veins qualified you as a golden plum. Although you’ve always gotten your eye on Leon, unfortunately, the better Kennedy wasn’t up for grabs.

Not only is (or was) he a porn star, but the fact that no one has ever heard of him only serves to raise huge fishy questions about what kind of a cover story is playing out behind the screen.

Whatever.

You’re off to Italy and ready to drink the stress away. Drama-free and only the blue sea of the alluring Mediterranean.

Who doesn’t like a warm Sicilian starry night?

After a lap in the pool, you climb up the pool ladder and dry the excess water from the tufts of your hair with a towel while unintentionally eavesdropping on the chatter of the two girls working at the minibar. They’re right behind you.

Excitement and bustle are at their peak; one of them is showing the other something on her phone. Slowly, you make your way towards them.

“Girl, it looks sooo fine—he’s, like, sooo fine.”

The staff speak Italian amongst themselves, and you struggle to translate their words by hearsay against your moribund Italian language background.

“Are you kidding? You can’t even sit on it. It’s so big.”

“I’d happily sit on it,” the other girl says (presumably). “Look at the tip... just tie a ribbon on it. Awwh.”

This is so... hocus-pocus. They say, “Nastro something something something.”

Doesn’t that equate to a ribbon?

It’ll set your head on fire if you mull it over any longer. You could do well with a cold drink and mayhaps find a hot Italian tutor.

The girls won’t even hear you approaching. What’s the deal with all this? Because this is getting overly gelastic.

“Ahem.” You bitch up. You’re good at that.

One of your girls nearly drops her phone, and the other one smiles sweetly at you as an amends for her friend’s indignities.

“Signora! Good evening to you. The usual again?” Her Italian accent makes it even funnier.

“Yep. Gimlet, please.”

“Coming right up!”

Strapping the thin sarong around your hips, you settle on the stool and wait for your order.

“White Russian,” a voice next to you pipes up. You know that voice all too well. Oh, and the puff of his whispery perfume—something sandalwood or cedar.

“Buona notte, sweetheart.”

That autocratic sass and gruff. Your stomach lurches.

Fuckfuckfuck.

“What the hell are you doing here, Leon?”

“Surprise, surprise.”

Sarcasticity and irreverence read like the trappings of the only emotion in his bones, and that makes you feel ill at ease. The degree of clownishness of the look you get when you glance over your shoulder at him is simply gobsmacking.

“What are those glasses?”

In the darkness at the ninth of the night, his Wayfarer sunglasses portray a very unhinged vignette.

“My new style. Y’like it?”

“No.” You huff out, “your head looks bigger, and your forehead is awfully wide with them.”

That’s beyond cruel, but you do what you do; you tell him the truth. Leon, in regards, opens his mouth to make you eat the humble pie, but the bartender chimes in and plops your freshly poured cocktails in front of the two of you. No sooner is she out of the way than Leon skulks over, and his whisper, drifting closer to your ear, forebodes fiasco.

“I know what you’re doing. Don’t you dare divert the subject.”

Now what the fuck is this? Why is he rambling on like a riddle and serving no purpose other than to vex you?

In one swift guzzle, Leon swallows all the velvety liquid in the old-fashioned glass, the movement of his Adam’s apple a downward slide as the liquor coils up his parched throat; it all goes down smooth and fulminates his insides.

Show off.

You’re not into that.

“Look. I told you I’m done with you and your stupid sibling after that night,” you clarify in a more affable tone, but Leon shows no interest in humoring you.

“Believe me, I thought so too.”

“So then why are you here?”

Leon first downplays his eyes at this question, and then you can trace an aweless grin on his face again—ablaze with the glow of the clinquant candles stacked on the counter.

“This is my hometown, y’know.”

A strange turmoil to explore, to espy how much his facial expressions play for the first time since you’ve come to know him. Turns out he can be pretty silly when he wants to be an Italian.

But maybe you’ve pissed him off too much, so he grabs you by the arm uncouthly and steers you nearer to a not-so-appropriate vantage point. Nose to nose and lips to lips.

Up close, he’s much comelier, indescribably so. Freckles dotting along the bridge of his nose and his kissable, aflush lips. He looks like a breeze in the summer, and you adore the aestival fire flowers.

Be sure to ask him about his skincare routine after this carousel still.

“You uploaded my videos on this fucking website, didn’t you, you little backstabbing bitch?”

Stop, stop, stop, stop. Stop the tape, the recording, and everything.

What.was.that?

Your face is veiled in an acidic visage. Now the cat’s out of the bag, and it’s clear why he’s walking around like a super spy with these goofy shades on.

“I didn’t release your videos or shit. You see, I’m in my own business, and having the best vacay in the world,” you pull your arm free, and his hand falls idle, “only for you to come and fuck it all up. So, congratulations, you’ve ruined my whole vacation.”

“Do you take me for an oaf?”

Actually, yes. In your judgment, he’s the flesh-and-blood manifestation of the idiocy.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Do not say it aloud.

“Think this is a wiiild coincidence how my fucking clips have been all over the internet since that night?” Leon demands again. He wants some answers.

“I told you I didn’t do it.”

Leon certainly isn’t taking your word for it. He scoffs and pilfers your margarita glass. Fucker is drinking your cocktail while he’s looking you in the eyes. This only drives you to a point of an afflictive angst, and you once again seek to justify the circumstances. Just one last time.

“I mean it!”

That’s a very... plausible interpretation.

The abyss of blue in his eyes behind his sunglasses knocks you sideways. You can’t do anything about it.

“Remind me again why I should believe you?”

Finally, he says something, and something cold, something roseate, drizzles into your heart.

“Uhh,” you falter and make a pseudo moue, “listen to your gut and your heart. I think... yes. Trust me when I’m telling the truth, my good friend. All hail to the power of friendship!”

For every second you waste sitting with Leon, you unconsciously lose your conversational and persuasive faculties. Not a good rapport; you feel like a psychopath with a double personality and so forth.

What you look like to Leon is a guileful suck-up at best.

He pities you, but perhaps his heart melts too. You leave a strangeness on Leon’s tongue like the mysteries and absurdities of the Bermuda Triangle when you two come together. Funny how he knows what you taste like without tasting you.

Does that make sense?

Cute, he thinks; you don’t even attempt to slut-shame him for his past. He wants to believe you’re in the clear, but he can’t resist giving you a little piece of his mind. For now. At least until Hunnigan figures out whose name put that spectacular viral video of Leon’s dick on the Internet.

“So? Are we still friends?” You rhetorically ask, just to be sure for once.

“No,” he says tersely, forthrightly even. Shithead. “Just gotta make sure you really didn’t do it.”

Call it a hunch or the sixth sense, Leon knows you didn’t upload that one particular video. Hunnigan was quick to take care of the matter to expunge the videotape from the entire history of the internet. A few people may have seen what they could see, but America has more substantive matters to settle. All Leon needs here is a little dalliance with you.

In antagonism to his ambitions, you barely have time for an inauguration, much less a speck of free time for him.

Hence you stand up, all the more assertively. Not that he hates it; he likes the little attitude and mannerisms you’re giving.

“Sounds like it’s your problem.”

You want to show off, but your aptitude in this field does not know the right vernacular. You suck at flirting, and you really want to leave.

“I’m still mad at you. You need to make it up for me,” he echoes your words without spoiling his deportment.

“Like I said, your problem,” you give him a goodbye wave, “Good night and have sweet dreams.”

You part ways if only for a season. As far as Leon is concerned, you’re still on the list of suspects, and it’s something that he definitely needs to tackle, but for the time being, he has to recede from the spotlight for his very reputation.

Let the sting of that scandalous video subside so that people can find something else to talk about and forget it for the next episode of something more debauched.

Not always do people associate a former porn star with a government agent. It’s a very tongue-in-cheek deal, but Leon never knew how to stay on the good side with his father, and he grew up as an incorrigible kid, so his father cut him off from his money.

Since his college tuition wouldn’t pay for itself unless someone like the fairy who helped Cinderella came alive, Leon ended up working for a crummy company as a last-ditch effort. He hit his twenty-one, and he found himself sucking a pussy in front of the cameras like his life depended on it.

A five-month-long process and a timetable that would greatly tarnish his morality. That stuff was too damn much for his little heart. Better to do it as a “camboy” for the sake of monetization later on—the die was cast.

Then Raccoon City kicked in, and things spiraled out of control for him. For a while, Leon went into a period of estrangement from everything he’d ever known.

Until then, you showed up—out of the blue—and gave him another flashback of his odious past on that stupid TV screen.

Doesn’t that give him the right to blame you? It’s more than enough.

Keeping a “close” eye on you is just another one of his foibles. Not something he had planned, and it’s certainly not healthy. On Leon’s behalf, touching base with Hunnigan and asking about your whereabouts doesn’t sit well with him. Something inside him kept reheating and reheating like a leftover meal from last night that what he was doing felt wrong but also that it was necessary.

He scarcely had a week off work, but to spend it with following you around gives him a perverse pleasure.

Now, he’s simply addicted to his own suffering.

In such wise, he follows you, deep sea and cross-ocean, dark doom and curious. Italy to America, America to Canada, and America again.

The crossing of your paths is just as “serendipitous”.

One night, as you are about to ask the bartender to do a refill on your hideously strong scotch, you coincidentally make eye contact with the guy sitting one seat away from you.

The classic sets of blue eyes. He’s in the distance and observes you from afar—it’s like a summons to his company. Can’t really blame his eyes—they’re the only interesting thing to look at around.

It’s Leon.

You’d say a “hi” or “hey”. It’s no big deal, and you like your friends.

Only you’re chickening out, and he’s not your friend; besides, peeping at your boyfriend’s brother (well, ex-boyfriend) and letting him do the same to you might not be your proudest moment.

Since you’re absolutely determined not to join him, Leon himself stands up and puts his glass on the bar. He slides onto the stool next to you—under his breath that smells of minty chewing gum—and gives what appears to be a frazzled sigh.

“Does it ever grace you, ignoring me like that?” He tuts you.

“Maybe I just wanted to be alone.” You smile back, biting back the acute inclination to roll your eyes, feeling the liquor sizzle in your throat as you take a big throatful.

“Hm. Copy that.” Leon leans back a little, studying—no—appraising you. Hard not to flounder under the rapt fixation of his glance, as it lingers on your eyes for half a second too long, and it’s almost as if you’re the only thing he pays any mind to in the room.

Shit. Is it working?

It’s working.

For every second that washes away between you, he looks even better in your eyes. You could swear there’s a spell cast on his eyes, inveigling you in. It’s abysmal; he’s abysmal.

“I don’t believe you.”

“When the hell have you ever believed me anyway?” You tip back the rest of your pint.

Oh, he hears you loud and clear. Leon knows more or less what it is that you’re being so uptight about. In the back of his mind, he recognizes how bitter he’s been with you and that you do deserve a quick mea culpa.

“I’ve always been a supporter of you. You just got me mixed up, beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Your own choice of wording doesn’t even speak for itself. It’s equally fatuous to expect that you did manage to convince him.

“Wrong again. You didn’t get up and walk away. You would have gladly done it if you wanted to. Hell, you’d be bitching about me sitting next to you in the first place.”

In spite of your inner voice begging you to abscond and save yourself, your body is pertinaciously attached to that stool, and you loathe to tell him he’s absolutely justified. This is why you fall quiet, and Leon loves it, not in secret but overtly and nakedly.

“I’m going back to the States tomorrow.” You launch your escape plan. He was interested in you before, but seeing how well you adhere to the dignity you are trying to manifest, he itches to get close to you, to touch you, and feel you. To take away that “good girl” pretense. Stripping you naked like rose petals is just a prelude to the ritual.

“Can’t you stay with me a little longer?”

“You don’t understand, Leon. The flight’s so early. I need some sleep.”

Excuses, excuses.

“Aww, shame,” he wittingly leaves a white and an electrically charged void between his question and his amative suggestion, “I can think of a few more things I’d like to do with you, you see.”

“Oh, can you?”

Pretend you’re not impressed, cold, cold, rude.

“Yeah,” he sings, smiling affably down at you, “all I’m asking if you wanna fuck. With me.”

“With... you?

Something about this guy makes you almost feel like a chaste virgin. Almost. Certainly, he would coax you and actually say that, judging from the type of background material (his... given career) you’ve amassed, he doesn’t exactly give you the overall illusion that he’s the type to play on the matters. That’s the picture you’re reading. Must be an old habit of his: talking dirty and saying what he wants so bluntly without a backward second thought. Even so, you gape at him—allegorically and disconcertingly attuned to the proximity between your very bodies.

He idly swishes the dregs of the liquor and ice cubes left in his glass. Under the bar, you two are perilously close, his knee cradling your thigh, drawing a mucronate intake of gasp from you.

“With me.”

Leon dips his head, drinking in the authentic scent of the perfume you’ve painstakingly sprung on the right side of your neck. Against him, you recline slightly, your head inclining upwards to make space for his teeth to bruise your neck. Leon, against your better judgment, recoils to the side. You let out a soft oh? under your breath. Motherfucker. It’s a suit of an absolute assholery not to deliver what you want the most when you need it the most—the very thing Leon would do.

“I’m still waiting for an answer here. Say the word and I’m all yours.”

He’s already dead set on you, all along, from the moment he had you in his sights, but what he really wants to see on your pretty face is the certain voracity that he’s felt for you. For Leon, it’s the most sublime mirage he’ll ever have, to see his girl like that and in that shape.

“Do I want to... what?”

“Me. Do you want me?” Leon elaborates on your words for you. He can be generous like that.

Just as generous when he kisses you in the bathroom of a dive bar. Kisses you filthy, tongue-fucking your mouth in perfect rhythm with the pumping of his two fingers inside your weeping pussy. You bleed on his fingers, and Leon scissors them inside you while he mouths indecorous things in your mouth and grinds the heel of his palm against your little clit.

Shame he doesn’t take the time to pledge to make you cum on his digits, plus there’s no subtlety in his gesture as he pushes you against the cold, cold tiles. Not that you’d expect this kind of affection from him. By now you’ve undoubtedly deciphered the sort of man he is, but the way he shows off as he licks your arousal, glistening on his fingertips, is just as inexplicable. It’s the thing you can’t figure out, and it has the effect of numbing you with a groan through gritted teeth.

Tugging at your skirt and ruching it up until it’s a waistband—and that’s the crudest of the crudities. Leaves you homesick for his caresses and kisses.

“Look at you.”

Out of the question, just like how your panties are out of the picture now. You can’t think respectively and look at yourself at the same time.

Ass out, pussy bare, you let his finger paw at the nylon fabric of your tights, leaving a gaping hole. In other words, he’s ruining you, and you’re acting like you need it. You need him, indeed.

Leon shudders in the pent-up tightness of the pucker that squeezes around his cock as he slides inside you, shaping your insides along the way as he does so. A string of self-conscious words, of dirty promises praising you, trammel at the base of his sore throat.

He lurches clumsily to your ass with a hand and leans a little lower to your ear as he takes a lump of puffy flesh, eliciting another fluctuant whimper from your lips, “Arch back for me, beautiful. Jus’ a little so I can fill you all up.”

Oh, God. You want that. You want it so badly, so you arch back so beautifully. The sugariness of your exhale and his sigh mingle as he slowly melts into you, disappearing inch by inch. Your thighs tremble when you close in at your limits, and you hear him rasping, “That’s it. You’re doing amazing, pretty.”

Right then and there, you might crash, but the hand ghosting around your waist from behind intones that all is well. Your whimpers and clenching of your pussy, every ounce of praise that ricochets in your ears; he can feel you scorching inside. First and one-night stands are hardly ever this romantic, especially for Leon, for whom this is very much a debut. Despite the arrogance of his conduct as a rule, Leon doesn’t hold any disrespect for the women he fucks, and he doesn’t abate his ministrations to you while you’re so nicely grasping him inside you. He hits slower when he catches you slamming your fist into the ceramic wall with a thump, and he pounds harder when your lovely hands reach for him again; he relishes in how you push your hips into him and drill him raw, trying to fuck yourself on him. Sequentially, he fucks the fleeting kisses on your cervix, lingering and volatile, fingers curled tightly in yours; you’re both tense but reckless.

“Fuck,” is the foul-mouthed note under his breath, and you eagerly savor every second of him filling you until your sublimate wails ring out and bounce off the walls of the private restroom. How embarrassing it is to be so out of it in a lavatory, and how utterly crushing it is that the person fucking you from behind is none other than your ex-boyfriend’s brother. The memories are gnawing at you, but Leon fucks you just well enough to kill the charade once and for all.

“P—ah—please!” You cry out depravedly.

It’s just as vertiginous to see those pearly crooked teeth so close, and the bruise biting into your neck is just as narcotizing. A competition, too, and the more moans he pulls out of you, the closer he is to laurels.

Repel the drive to cram your legs together a little while he grasps your thigh with one hand, holding it up and apart enough to malleate in all the way. His thumb promptly abrades your clit, and with measured rolls of his hips, the tip of his cock tickles lightly over that spongy spot inside you.

“Leon, m—more. Please.” Your plea transpires in an aquaking objection. You can’t even breathe; it all feels like you’re trapped in a nightmare, and your voice is never enough for crying help. The difference is this is very much of the real life, and he hears you faultlessly. Leon knows what you need from him.

Moments before you can find yourself coming, as that all-consuming, sweltering heat envelops your body, Leon retracts the hand he has been playing with your greedy clit.

“Leon, f—fuck you!” Diluting and blinking open your closed eyes, you’re cussing out, and there he is with his hand on your neck, his thumb threading your vein, which is pulsing in a hot red from his previous bite. Soothing? You really don’t think so. He just likes to feel you up.

“See what a fucking sight you have become,” he coos, bent on shaming you into decorum. Angling your head with a thumb under your chin, he entombs you below his jaw, his bicep enfolding your face securely. In the mirror, it’s you and Leon—winded, debauched. Curse yourself a thousand times inside for not wiping your lipstick. You look like a shitty cosplayer of the Joker; mascara flakes off your eyelashes, and your clothes are beyond reproach. Beside Leon, you look like a girl he fucked in one of those cheesy old porn videos you’ve been snooping around with, and next to you he looks perfectly fine. You, indeed, recreate the ones titled “college slut bends over her classmate and her grades skyrocket, blah blah.” Very aroused and thoroughly fucked.

“You won’t take any cock that doesn’t carry the Kennedy label, huh, baby?”

“Leon, God, I need—” You bleat, maybe a notch squeakier, and he automatically tugs you by the back of your neck, braiding your hair in his fingers. You hate it when your eyes mist up, but it’s not hard enough to make you break down in tears, yet it’s hard enough to sever strands of your hair. Ruleful he is, panting puffs of revilement.

“Hush now,” his voice drifts into your ear with a dash of amusement in it, “You want them to come and find us, pretty? Hmm, that what you want?”

“Sorry, but please?” You, too, whisper back, and your teeth clatter, blood thin on your tongue.

“There you go.” Only then does he give you what you want. He reaches out and finds the delicate spot between your thighs, thumbing the pearl of your clit much vigorously.

A heartfelt pledge of alms from him grants you the right to rest on his shoulder. You cling to his every thrust, and he circles your frayed nerve bundles. How everything can be too much and yet so damned meager is beyond your fathomable comprehension. Your eyes almost roll back to your skull, and Leon is bucking from the sheer pleasure of the bliss of the heat covering his cock, your pussy gushing around him. Blankets him just flawlessly.

There is no stopping; he pushes you against the wall for another round before you can even get your head in a regular whirl. Who could leave a beautiful girl who takes him so nicely? He certainly won’t let you go, least not until he gets what he wants.

“On your knees, now.” His teeth bite into his lower lip.

You can’t make sense of his blunt demands and the words that tumble out of his mouth before you come to your senses.

“Huh? Now?” You hiss out the melting brain molecules from your brain as you speak.

“If you want a facial, then turn around and kneel down. Will you?” He asks once more, demanding, choking on his air.

Hard to believe how you get down on your feeble, wobbly knees, but you come to terms with the fact that you can do anything when you want to. Leon tap-taps the head of his cock against your cheek despite his terrible pull-out klutziness. Glissades in nicely against the pucker of your lips, blurring the color of your flesh into hot whites. Can you imagine how appealing it looks, mouth open and letting him pleasure himself over your knees on the filthy mosaic floor? The dignity you’ve been trying to maintain since you met him is in shambles, making your knees bleed as if they were splintered from a cracked mirror. It should be fine as long as he doesn’t make hash of your hair.

You do the rest, your hands on your knees, and swipe the tip of your tongue over the flushing head of his half-erect dick. Not too deep since your poor throat is all patchy from moaning like a pornstar, and definitely not too sluggish. Just enough to taste and spruce up the situation.

“That’s it, good girl, swallow it.”

Even his minutest words enhearten you more than you already are.

In the next split second, you pop his cock out of your mouth in the worst kind of graphic sound, and Leon groans only unhesitatingly. He mumbles out something rather nebulous. His moony gaze lands on your moue, and he swears his heart makes a leap in his chest.

Bloodless blues imbed on your irises, but it’s not for persistent minutes—only for a spell.

The magic eventually gives up the ghost.

He simply flicks a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping the salad of chaos off your face. Warmth drips from the corner of your mouth, and Leon dabs it away with his own finger, your fingertips tingling and glued to the corner of the sink so you don’t fall down. Still busy rebounding yourself together, Leon refastens his belt and zips up his fly. He throws the discarded handkerchief in the trash, reaches for your hands, and hoists you to your feet as if you were made of feathers.

“You okay?” He gives you his casual, day-to-day inquiry, as if what happened seconds ago was nothing extraordinary.

“Yeah,” you auto-answer, reeling in a groggy daze. Meditatively, you are still recovering. You feel so full that semen is leaking out of your nostril, but it’s only a psychological manifesto, and you look still lovely in this mess written by him.

“Good.” Leon stows a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear. Such a random ploy; hell, even he wasn’t expecting it. No traces of rapt Leon in the flicker of those awkward seconds that pass between you.

On the contrary, he’s almost unbelievably sweet, kind, and thoughtful.

Although you went your separate ways after that night, your text messaging phrase (bottom note: sexting) didn’t terminate. He makes you feel like a doltish teenager in high school, and you have to be quite honest: you like it.

So does he.

Only time will tell—and surprises often have a way of tugging at the heartstrings. You don’t have any idyllic dreams of having a boyfriend, but perhaps you want to shoot new videos with him—the hottest ones—to be his partner in that aspect of the relationship.

The first thing, and the rule of thumb, is you have to secure his assent. Hopefully, he’ll give you that “yes,” and you’ll be the next rising star because he always says you fuck so prettily.

#leqonsluv3rrecs #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader

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