𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐭....✦ ݁˖♡
summary: After a mission goes wrong, you watch Leon protect Ada while you’re left bleeding on the floor, and everything you’ve been swallowing for years finally breaks. The fight that follows is ugly, cruel and full of things neither of you can take back, but by morning, Leon is still outside your door, ready to tell you the truth and prove that you were never second to her.
warnings: re6!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader, established relationship, angst with comfort, jealousy, Ada Wong mentioned heavily, Ada-related insecurity, emotional argument, cruel words said during a fight, miscommunication, reader is injured during a mission, blood/injury mentions, Leon being emotionally constipated, hurt/comfort, crying, brief emotional manipulation, protective Leon, golden retriever as emotional support, reconciliation, explicit smut, MDNI, lotus position, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, body worship, curvy reader, belly bulge/body insecurity, large breasts/big ass/soft thighs mentioned, aftercare, fluff ending, English is not the author’s first language.
author’s note: this was requested by @gabithefanwriter 🖤 and honestly it turned into such an emotional mess, but in the best way. this was based on the re6 storyline but it only adds kind of placing to it, it doesn't follow it strictly. i wanted to write leon being painfully flawed here, not cruel for no reason, but still responsible for the damage his words cause. I wanted to become a little more explicit than I usually am on the smut part so tell me what you think. thank you so much for the request and for waiting, i hope the angst, the hurt/comfort and the soft ending make it worth it. no hate on Ada. ♡
tags: @defvia @causeofmykoophoria (first time adding people on my tags hehe i'm excited)🪽
You had been with Leon Kennedy for almost three years, and there were still days when loving him felt like learning how to do it without hurting yourself in the process.
Not because Leon was cold with you, or because your relationship lacked love. If anything, from the outside, the two of you probably looked more stable than anyone would expect, considering the kind of life you led. You had routines no one else knew about, like a drawer full of his shirts that you had been stealing since you started dating or your baby golden retriever named Cooper, whom Leon had sworn he did not want until the puppy climbed onto his boots at the shelter and stared up at him like the decision had already been made.
Leon lasted exactly four minutes.
Since then, Cooper had become an absurdly important part of your life. He was the first to run to the door when Leon came back from a mission, the one who somehow got Leon Kennedy — a man who had faced things most people would not even survive hearing about — to sit on the kitchen floor at midnight and negotiate over a stolen sock.
“That dog has you completely manipulated,” you had told him once, watching him break off a piece of toast and pass it under the table after insisting Cooper was not getting any.
Leon had not even looked up from his coffee.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Leon, you’ve said ‘last one’ four times.”
Cooper rested his chin on Leon’s thigh, eyes wide and shameless.
Leon sighed, broke off another piece, and gave it to him.
“He’s a strategist,” he muttered, as if that explained anything.
Those were the moments that made you think there was a version of Leon only you got to have. Not the agent, but the softer version of him, the one who fell asleep on the couch with one hand buried in Cooper’s fur, made coffee before your alarm rang, and pretended not to notice when you stole the warmer side of the bed.
You had seen things in Leon that no one else saw.
You had patched him up in the kitchen at ungodly hours, cleaning cuts he tried to downplay with tired jokes, holding his hand when pain made him clench his jaw so tightly he stopped speaking altogether.
And Leon loved you. You had never truly doubted that.
The problem was that Leon had a very particular way of loving you, one that sometimes made you feel respected, and other times made you feel terribly alone.
He did not usually intervene for you.
If someone questioned you in a briefing, Leon did not immediately step in. If you made a mistake in the field, he did not try to soften the consequences for you. You argued with a superior? he stayed close, alert, but he did not speak over you. He always told you the same thing: he trusted you, he knew you could handle yourself, he did not want to treat you like you were fragile just because he loved you.
For a long time, that had felt like respect.
At first, you had even been grateful for it. You did not want to be Leon Kennedy’s girlfriend in a way that made people look at you like you were only safe because he was standing behind you. You had never been weak, and Leon knew that better than anyone.
Still, there were moments when his trust hurt, when you wished he would stop respecting your strength long enough to notice your exhaustion.
Sometimes it even sounded childish in your own head, so you swallowed it, the way you swallowed a lot of things when it came to loving Leon.
You swallowed the way his face changed whenever Ada Wong’s name came up.
Then, you were both assigned a mission in China, one tied to Neo-Umbrella and to chaos spilling through the city faster than anyone could contain. You and Leon had been moving through the lower levels of a facility when Chris Redfield’s voice cracked through the radio, rough with fury, saying he had eyes on Ada Wong.
You were close enough for your shoulder to brush his when the corridor narrowed, close enough to feel the way his focus changed beside you.
The mission went wrong minutes later.
An infected came out of one of the side corridors too fast for its ruined body, slamming into you before Leon could take it down. Your side hit the edge of a metal console with a sickening force, pain bursting hot beneath your ribs and stealing the air from your lungs. You dropped to one knee, one hand pressed against the wound, and when you looked down, blood was already spreading between your fingers.
His eyes found yours, and for one brief second there was nothing calm or controlled about him. He looked terrified. He moved toward you as if the rest of the corridor had disappeared.
Then Ada’s voice cut through the alarms.
You only saw her at the end of the hall, pinned against the wall by Chris Redfield, one hand twisted in her jacket, his face wrecked with grief and rage. Ada looked battered but composed, blood at the corner of her mouth, eyes fixed not on Chris, but on Leon.
She said something low. Whatever it was made Leon stop dead.
“She’s lying,” Chris snapped, tightening his grip on her jacket, though you had not heard enough to know what about.
Ada’s gaze stayed on Leon and he only looked back at you once.
“Chris, let her go,” Leon said.
Chris stared at him like he could not believe what he was hearing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“She killed my men, Kennedy!”
Leon stepped between them before Chris could do anything else, one hand pushing against Chris’s chest, the other hovering close to his own weapon. Ada stood behind him.
And you were still on the floor, blood warm beneath your palm, watching the man you loved put his body between another woman and danger.
And something inside you went quiet.
Leon had always let you stand. Leon had always let you fight. He had always said he trusted you, that he would not take your strength away from you, that he would not treat you like something fragile just because you were his.
But with Ada, he did not wait for after.
You did not say anything for the rest of the extraction. You did your job because the world did not stop just because your heart had cracked open. You don't even remember the person who wrapped your side when you came back.
By the time you got home, you were shaking from more than blood loss.
Cooper met you at the door, tail wagging, ears perked up, his whole body moving with excitement. He nudged your hand with his nose, confused by the silence between you and Leon.
“Not now, Coop,” you murmured, brushing your fingers over his head before walking past him.
Leon shut the door behind you.
You did not answer. You left your keys on the table, shrugged out of your jacket with clumsy fingers and went straight to the bathroom. Leon said your name once, quietly, but you closed the door before he could follow.
The shower did not calm you.
The hot water ran over your shoulders, down your back, over bruises already starting to bloom across your skin, but nothing reached the place where the image had burned itself into you. Leon turning away and choosing another woman.
By the time you stepped out, dressed in an old shirt with your damp hair sticking to your neck, your hurt had sharpened into something dangerous.
Leon was waiting in the bedroom.
He had not showered. He was still in his mission clothes, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, staring at the floor. Cooper was lying near his boots, restless, lifting his head the moment you stepped inside.
He blinked, exhausted, his eyes red from the mission and from something that looked too much like fear.
“I don’t want to hear another explanation about Ada.”
You let out a laugh so dry and bitter it barely sounded like yours.
“Of course it wasn’t. It never is, right? It’s always the mission or something complicated.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
He took a step toward you, but you moved past him toward the closet, more to keep your hands busy than because you needed anything from it. Your side pulled painfully under the bandage, but you ignored it, grabbing a shirt, folding it, unfolding it, anything so you would not have to look at his face.
“You don’t know what happened,” he said.
“You’re right. I don’t. I don’t know anything, do I? I only know what it looked like when I was bleeding on the floor and you ran to her.”
“I didn’t run to her.” Anxiety rose in his voice. “I had no choice.”
“You never have a choice when it comes to her.”
Ada had never been just jealousy. She was the part of Leon’s past you could never understand, the name that made his face change before he could hide it. And even though he always came home to you, sometimes her presence made you feel like you had arrived too late to understand him fully, or too late for him to love you more than he had ever loved her.
“Then what was it about?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
You nodded once, and it was almost worse than shouting.
“No.” Leon moved closer, his voice lowering. “Don’t do that. You saw ten seconds of something and decided you understood all of it. That’s not fair.”
“Neither was leaving me there.”
“Stop saying that!” you shouted, and Cooper lifted his head sharply from the floor. “Stop saying that like I wasn’t there. I remember the floor, Leon. I remember you looking at me and still turning away.”
Leon dragged a hand down his face, breathing hard.
“And I remember having seconds to make a decision you know nothing about.”
“Then maybe you should have made one that didn’t look exactly like choosing her.”
He stared at you, his eyes bright, his mouth pressed into a hard line.
“With her, there’s always something,” you continued, stepping closer despite the pain in your side. “Always a part of the story I’m not allowed to know. And I’m so fucking tired, Leon. I’m tired of standing there like an idiot while you look at her like she still owns some piece of you.”
“Sometimes I think you want to find proof,” he added, and his voice had gone colder. “Like you’re waiting for me to fuck up so you can finally say you were right about her and leave me.”
You laughed, but it came out broken.
The insult hit fast, and for a second neither of you moved. Leon looked like he regretted it immediately, but the damage had already landed.
“Oh,” you said softly. “There it is.”
“No, no. Say it. I’m exhausting. My jealousy is exhausting. Me wanting my boyfriend to give a shit when I’m bleeding in front of him is exhausting.”
“You think I don’t give a shit? You really think that little of me?”
“I think you give a shit when it’s convenient, when you can sit beside me and be gentle without actually having to stand up for me.”
“Yes,” he snapped. “It’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Then tell me when.” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to keep going. “Tell me when you’ve ever stood between me and someone else like that. Tell me when you’ve ever looked at anyone and made it clear that with me, no. Tell me one time, Leon.”
“You want me to be the villain so badly tonight.” His eyes hardened.
“No, Leon. I wanted you to be my boyfriend.”
“Then fucking act like it.”
That one hit him. You saw it in his face.
Leon’s voice dropped, colder now.
“So was stepping over me to get to her.”
“Jesus Christ.” He laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes. I hear myself trying to talk to someone who has already decided I’m guilty.” His voice rose with every word. “You were ready. The second Ada appeared, you were already waiting for it, waiting for me to do something so you could play the victim.”
You stared at him with tears burning in your eyes.
“Fuck you for making me feel crazy for reacting to what you show me, for turning your silence into something sacred and my pain into an inconvenience.”
“You think you’re the only one in pain?”
“Where was Ada when you were shaking so hard I had to sit on the bathroom floor with you until sunrise? Where was she when you woke up choking on air? Where was she when I cleaned blood out of your hair because your hands were too stiff to do it yourself? Where was she when you looked at me like you didn’t even know how to be loved without turning it into a punishment?”
“No. You don’t get to ask me to stop just because it finally hurts you too, Leon. You let me bleed and dare to call it trust.”
“Neither is making me compete with a woman who doesn’t even have to stay to win.”
Leon’s expression hardened again, and this time the anger came from somewhere uglier.
“You’re not competing with her.”
“Then why do I always feel like I’m losing?”
“Because you keep putting yourself in the race.”
Leon seemed to hear himself and still kept going.
“You want the truth? Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, you’ll find a way to make it about Ada. I come home to you, I sleep beside you, I live with you. I chose a life with you, but the second her name appears, you act like none of it means anything. You spiral, and then I have to stand there proving I love you while you look at me like I already failed. Do you know how suffocating that is?”
You nodded slowly, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“So I’m exhausting. I spiral. I suffocate you. Anything else?”
“No. Come on. Finish it. Since we’re finally being honest, tell me what else I am.”
“You’re impossible when it comes to her. You say you don’t want to be jealous, but you punish me for a history I had before I even knew you. You say you want me to let you in, but the second I don’t bleed myself open in exactly the way you want, you act like I’m choosing someone else.”
“I have never asked you to bleed yourself open.”
“No, you just make me feel like a coward when I can’t.”
“I make you feel like a coward?” you repeated, almost laughing through the tears. “Leon, you are the bravest man in every room until the person asking for honesty is me.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cooper whimpered softly near the bed. Leon’s chest was rising and falling too fast, his eyes wet, his anger clearly starting to scare even him, but he still had one last terrible thing left in him.
“There are things Ada understands because she was there.”
The words changed the room. Leon’s expression flickered, regret rising immediately, but he was already too deep in it.
“Raccoon, Spain... all of it. There are things I don’t have to translate for her. Things I don’t have to make clean. She knows what kind of world this is.”
“No,” you said, and your voice sounded smaller than you wanted it to. “I wasn’t there at the beginning. I just got what was left of you after.”
“You think it’s easy for me?” His voice cracked. “You think I enjoy knowing there are parts of me you only know because they come out ugly at night? You think I like being loved by someone who has to survive me first?”
Your anger faltered for half a second.
“You think being with you is something I survive?”
“But it is, isn’t it?” Your voice broke. “That’s what you think. That I keep score. That every time I hold you through something terrible, I’m collecting proof to use against you later.”
“You just said I punish you.”
“I was angry,” he said, already regretting it.
“So was I, and somehow I still didn’t tell you that loving you suffocates me.”
That cut him open. His shoulders dropped, his face breaking around the edges, but you were too hurt to stop.
“You know what the worst part is? I don’t even hate Ada. I hate what you become when she’s close, and I hate how quickly I disappear for you.”
“I was on the floor,” you repeated, quieter now, and somehow that made it worse. “And you walked away.”
Leon looked at you like he was one breath away from telling you everything, but he did not. Whatever reason he had, whatever secret he was holding, it stayed locked behind his teeth.
And that was the final cut.
You laughed once, broken and empty.
“You know, maybe that’s the difference between us. Ada gets the truth because she can handle your world. I get protected from it like a child and abandoned in it like an adult.”
“Then why am I always the last one to know what’s happening in my own relationship?”
Your voice dropped to barely more than a whisper.
“No, you don’t. I’m tired of being brave for you, tired of pretending it doesn’t humiliate me when you shut me out and call it protection.”
Leon took a step toward you.
Then he said, low and broken, “And you think you’re easy to love when you’re like this?”
Even Leon seemed to stop breathing. Your face went blank, and you felt like you were about to be sick.
There it was. The fear that loving you was work. That your feelings were too much. That your hurt made you ugly. That eventually, Leon would get tired of convincing you that you were enough.
Your voice was small but firm. He took a step toward you and you stepped back.
“No, wait. I didn’t mean that.”
“You did. And honestly? Thank you for finally saying it.”
His face crumpled. Leon’s eyes filled.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, my love. I shouldn’t have—”
He went silent immediately.
You turned to the bed and grabbed a pillow with shaking hands. Cooper stood at once, ears pinned back, looking between the two of you like he did not understand why his home suddenly felt unsafe.
Leon’s panic was immediate.
“I’m sleeping in the guest room.”
“I can’t sleep next to you tonight.”
“Please.” His voice cracked. “Yell at me. Tell me I’m an asshole, tell me I’m a coward, tell me I don’t deserve you, but don’t go in there thinking I meant any of that.”
You clutched the pillow to your chest. Cooper hesitated for a second, torn between you both, then pressed himself against your leg, tail low.
Leon looked at him and then at you, destroyed.
You walked out with Cooper, Leon following at a distance, close enough for you to feel his desperation but not close enough to touch.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please, just let me explain.”
You opened the guest room door and closed it behind you.
For a few seconds, you heard nothing. No footsteps, no breathing, no sound of Leon trying to save what could not be saved. Only Cooper behind you, circling beside the bed, unsure whether to climb up, go back to the door or whine loudly enough for one of you to understand that all of this was breaking his spoiled little dog world too.
You sat on the edge of the mattress with the pillow in your arms, still damp beneath your fingers, and finally, the sobs broke out of you for real. They were not pretty, or quiet, or dignified. It was an ugly, exhausted cry, with your throat closing and your chest hurting every time you tried to breathe. You covered your mouth with one hand because you hated that Leon might hear you on the other side, hated that even after what he had said, there was still a part of you that did not want to hurt him.
Cooper set his front paws on your knees, worried.
“Come here, sweetheart,” you murmured, making room for him.
The dog did not take even a second. He climbed onto the bed clumsily, nudged you with his nose until you lay down, and settled against your body with his head on your stomach, just below the place where the bandage pulled at your skin. It hurt a little, but you did not move him. You needed something that did not remind you that your partner had just told you that you would never be like the woman who had made you feel inadequate for years.
On the other side of the door, Leon was still there.
You knew because, after a while, you heard the faint sound of his body sliding down against the wood until he was sitting on the floor. After some time, his voice came low and hoarse, so close to the door it sounded like he was speaking against it.
“I’m sorry,” Leon said. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… needed to say it again.”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
“I’m sorry for what I said.” Your chest tightened, but you did not open the door. Leon breathed slowly on the other side. “And I’m sorry I didn’t know how to protect you without making you feel abandoned.”
That sentence made you cry again. Cooper lifted his head when he heard you, restless, and jumped down from the bed before you could stop him. He went to the door, sniffed under it and let out a soft whine. Leon gave a broken laugh, barely audible.
Cooper wagged his tail, thumping it against the wood.
“No, don’t bother her. Mom’s mad at Dad.”
Leon did not know you were still awake, or maybe he did, but he spoke anyway, in that low voice he used with Cooper when he thought no one else could hear.
“And she’s right. Dad’s been an idiot.”
Cooper scratched the door once.
“I know. I want to go in too, but I can’t.” You covered your mouth with your hand, choking back a sob. “Look after her for me, okay?” Leon continued, his voice thinning, breaking. “Don’t let her cry alone. I know she doesn’t like anyone seeing her like that, but you can.”
“I don’t know how to fix this, Coop. I don’t know how to tell her it wasn’t Ada, that it wasn’t her, that everything I did was because I thought if I didn’t get Ada out of there, I’d lose her. Your mom. I can’t lose her.”
Your heart lurched so hard that for a second you forgot how to breathe.
“I can’t,” Leon repeated, almost in a whisper, beginning to cry. “Not after being enough of an idiot to make her believe that what she is to me mattered less than anything Ada could ever understand about me.”
Eventually, Cooper came back to bed, curled up beside you, and you stayed awake for a long time, listening to Leon’s breathing on the other side of the door until, little by little, it grew slower and heavier.
The next morning, you woke with a dry mouth, swollen eyes and pain in places you did not even remember hitting. For a few seconds, you did not know where you were, until you saw the guest room, the wrinkled pillow beneath your cheek and Cooper lying by the door with his ears raised as if he had spent the night keeping watch.
Then you remembered everything.
You sat up slowly, clenching your teeth when the bandage pulled at your side, and Cooper got up immediately, approaching you with a soft whine. You stroked his head before walking to the door. You had not expected to find Leon there. Part of you thought he would have gone back to the bedroom at some point, that he would have obeyed, even if only out of exhaustion, that he would have understood you did not want to see him.
But when you opened the door, you found him asleep on the hallway floor.
He was sitting against the wall, one leg stretched out and the other bent, his head tilted to one side, his hair a mess and last night’s clothes ruined. Cooper immediately went out and sniffed his hand, wagging his tail carefully.
Leon woke at the movement. He opened his eyes slowly, lost at first, then fully alert when he saw you standing in front of him. He pushed himself up as quickly as he could.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. His gaze dropped to your side by instinct, but he forced himself to look back into your eyes before saying anything. “Does it hurt?”
You nodded faintly. Silence settled between you. It was strange seeing him like that, sitting on the floor of your house with dark circles under his eyes and redness in them.
“You stayed here,” you said at last.
Leon looked down at his hands.
That hurt you, though not in the same way as before. You leaned a little against the doorframe because your body still felt heavy, and Leon noticed immediately. He moved as if he were going to help you, but stopped before touching you.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“It wasn’t an order. You’re pale.”
It annoyed you that he was right.
Without saying anything, you walked toward the living room. Cooper went ahead, happy simply because you were both in the same room, and Leon followed at a distance, as if he no longer knew what space belonged to him in his own house. You sat carefully on the couch, holding your side, and he remained standing in front of you.
Leon obeyed, but he did not sit beside you. He sat on the coffee table in front of you, elbows on his knees and hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone pale, looking at you like every word in his mouth had teeth.
For a few seconds, he said nothing.
Then he took a deep breath.
Leon swallowed, his eyes fixed on yours even though you could tell it cost him to hold your gaze.
“Ada?” you asked, and even saying her name felt like pressing on a bruise.
“Yes. Well, the woman wearing her face.”
The living room went quiet. Even Cooper, who had been trying to climb onto the couch, froze halfway, one paw still hanging awkwardly in the air.
“What are you talking about?”
“When you hit that console, you weren’t just injured.” His voice came out low, careful, but there was something underneath it that kept threatening to break. “There was something built into it. A trigger. I don’t know exactly what to call it yet. Something tied to the C-virus.”
Your fingers tightened against the couch.
“I didn’t know at first,” he said quickly, as if he needed you to understand that part before anything else. “I saw you on the floor and I was going to you. I was already moving toward you.”
“Then she said something.”
“She said you had been exposed. She said if Chris killed her, or if she didn’t reach the terminal in time, the trigger would activate before we got you out of the building.”
The air seemed to leave the room.
You looked at him, trying to fit those words around the memory you had spent all night bleeding from: Leon turning away, stepping in front of Ada and leaving you on the floor.
“I didn’t know if she was lying,” he admitted. “That’s the worst part. I still don’t know how much of it was true and how much was manipulation, but she knew where you were hurt. I couldn’t call her bluff when your life was what she had in her hands.”
You stayed completely still.
The anger was still there, but now there was something else tangled inside it. Horror. Confusion. A sick kind of relief that made you feel almost worse, because it changed the shape of what had happened without making it hurt any less.
“I thought you were choosing her,” you whispered.
“I know.” His eyes were red, exhausted, full of guilt. “And there is nothing I can say that erases how that must have felt. The mission explains why I stepped in front of Chris. It doesn’t excuse what I did after.”
Leon looked at you like he deserved every second of your silence.
“I was scared,” he said, voice rough. “I was terrified. I saw you bleeding, I heard her say those things, and then I saw your face when we got home. I knew exactly what you thought had happened. I knew you thought I had chosen Ada, and instead of taking it, instead of letting you be angry until I could explain it properly, I defended myself like a coward.”
“It felt like my insecurities disgusted you.”
Leon shook his head immediately.
“It felt like you were tired of me.”
“I was tired of myself,” he said, almost desperately, then stopped, forcing himself not to turn it into a plea. “But I threw it at you. And that was wrong.”
You looked at him then. He was sitting right in front of you, close enough to touch and still holding himself back.
“Ada isn’t the woman I want to come home to,” he said, quieter. “Whoever was wearing her face down there isn’t either. You are.”
Cooper finally managed to climb onto the couch, pushing his head against your thigh with a soft huff, as if he had decided both of you were too emotionally useless to handle the moment without him. You lowered a hand to his fur without thinking. Leon watched the gesture, his eyes wet.
“I’ve confused respecting you with leaving you alone too many times,” he said. “I told myself not stepping in was trust, that you didn’t want me treating you like you were fragile, and part of that was true, but another part was cowardice. Because protecting someone also means risking getting it wrong. It means showing up before the damage is already done. And with you, I’ve been so careful not to make you feel weak that sometimes I made you feel abandoned.”
“I didn’t want to be that girlfriend,” you whispered.
Leon’s brow furrowed slightly.
“The one who compares herself and gets jealous about her partner’s past.”
Leon got up from the coffee table slowly and knelt in front of you, between your legs.
“You’re not that girlfriend,” he said.
Tears started falling from your eyes.
“Yesterday you were hurt and scared.” His voice softened. “And I gave you reasons to feel every single one of those things.”
Cooper took advantage of Leon being on the floor and pushed his snout between you, resting his chin on your knee. You let out a sad little laugh as you stroked his head.
“I heard you talking to him last night.”
Leon glanced at the dog, embarrassed.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I heard you say Mom was mad at Dad.”
Leon looked down, and a tiny, broken smile barely touched his mouth.
Cooper wagged his tail, as if he completely agreed. Another tear escaped you, but this time Leon did not try to wipe it away. He stayed still, waiting, his hands resting on his own thighs.
“I’m going to fight for you in the small things too. Even when you don’t ask me to. Even when I think you can handle it on your own,” Leon said, his blue eyes full of tears as they locked onto yours.
You looked at him for a long second. Then you lifted a hand and touched his face.
Leon closed his eyes instantly, as if the contact hurt with relief. His stubble was rough beneath your fingers, his skin cold, tears finally falling from his eyes.
“Come here,” you whispered.
He rose slowly and sat beside you on the couch, careful not to touch your wound. At first, there was a small distance between you, only a few inches, but it felt enormous. You were the one who broke it, resting your forehead against his shoulder. Leon let out the breath as if he had been holding it all night.
His arms wrapped around you slowly, afraid, not holding you too tightly. He lowered his mouth to your hair and stopped.
It took you a second to answer.
He kissed the top of your head first, then your temple, and then pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were red, his face exhausted, and his guilt was so visible you could almost touch it. You lifted your hand again, brushing his jaw, and Leon went still beneath your fingers.
“Are you afraid to touch me?” you asked.
“Because I hurt you yesterday, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to fix this with my hands.”
You looked at him in silence.
“You can’t fix it with your hands,” you said, searching his eyes. “But you can touch me if I ask you to.”
His eyes drifted slowly over your face, your lips, your neck, the oversized shirt you were wearing and the way you were unconsciously protecting your injured side. There was no rush in his gaze, only Leon looking at you as if he had nearly lost the only thing in the world that truly mattered to him.
His voice dropped, softer, more intimate.
“You’re beautiful when you’re angry with me, when you cry even though you hate it, when you try to be strong even when you’re falling apart. You’re beautiful here.” He barely brushed the fabric near your bandage, without pressing. “And here.” His fingers moved up toward your chest, but stopped before truly touching you. “And in every place where you think there’s something to compare.”
The air thickened between you. You looked at his mouth, then his eyes.
Leon closed his eyes for a second, as if those words had snapped whatever little control he had left. When he looked at you again, there was no anger, only desire and a devotion so clear it almost hurt to face. He brought his hand to your face slowly, touching your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted too sharply with the brutality of everything you had said to each other hours earlier.
You leaned toward him first. Leon did not rush to kiss you. He stayed still until your mouth brushed his, and only then did he respond. He kissed you slowly, carefully. One of his hands remained on your cheek and the other on the couch, away from your body, though you could feel how much effort it took for him not to touch you more.
When you pulled away, Leon did not open his eyes immediately.
“I don’t know if I deserve this,” he murmured.
Your hand slid down to his wrist and guided it slowly to your waist, away from the wound, where his touch would not hurt. Leon followed the movement without resistance, but when his fingers touched your body over your shirt, he breathed as if that simple gesture had pulled something out of his chest. His forehead fell against yours.
“I love you,” he whispered. Leon glanced down at your mouth.
This time, you did not answer with words. You tugged softly at his shirt and he understood, leaning toward you with a slowness that made you close your eyes before his lips even touched yours. He wanted to touch you to remind you that you were still you, the woman he was finally going to learn how to protect without leaving her alone first, and you were starving for your man to finally reassure his love for you in the rawest way possible. And Leon did too.
Leon leaned in, brushing his nose against yours in a gesture so intimate it made your eyes flutter shut.
“Come here,” he murmured, his voice so soft, so full of love, that you felt like you could melt right there.
He helped you stand carefully, always aware of your injured side. His hands slid over your hips, caressing the soft fullness of your thighs before moving up to your waist. He noticed the way your stomach tensed slightly, that little habit you had whenever you felt too exposed.
“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you. “You’re beautiful. You know that, don’t you?”
“Leon…” you protested weakly, your hands rising on instinct to cover your stomach, that soft belly you were so embarrassed by and that he loved so much.
He took your wrists gently, pressing a kiss to the inside of each one before lowering your hands and keeping them at your sides.
“Look,” he said, his tone firm but tender. “Look how beautiful you are. This body drives me crazy.”
His hands slipped beneath your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your stomach. You felt his fingers trace reverent circles around your navel, his palms spreading over the roundness you always tried so hard to hide.
“I love this,” he confessed, kissing your jaw, your throat, the hollow of your collarbone. “I love every curve, every inch of softness. Please, let me see you.”
His words, spoken in that rough, sincere voice, sent a shiver of desire down your spine. You nodded, feeling emotional tears sting your eyes, and he smiled against your skin as he helped pull the shirt over your head.
When you were left in only your panties, exposed in front of him, Leon took a moment just to admire you. His eyes traveled over your large, heavy breasts, your hips, your thick, soft thighs he had touched so many times in his dreams.
“My God,” he breathed, almost reverent. “You’re perfect.”
He stood and undressed quickly until he was left in only his boxers, revealing his muscular torso and strong arms. Then he lifted you with an ease that stole your breath, one hand under your thighs and the other carefully braced against your back, far from your wound.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, even as he lowered you gently onto the sofa and settled you between the pillows.
“No,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”
Leon sat in front of you on the edge of the sofa and motioned for you to come closer. You moved carefully, feeling him help position you, his strong hands guiding your hips until you were seated in his lap, facing him, your legs wrapped around his waist.
The position made you feel completely open, vulnerable, but also incredibly safe. Leon had one hand on your hip, the other on your lower back, holding you without pressing against your injured side.
He leaned in until your foreheads touched. His eyes, those intense blue eyes, looked at you with a mixture of adoration and desire that made you feel like the most wanted woman in the world.
“I love you,” he said, and it was not just a confession, it was a promise. “Every part of you. This belly you get so shy about…” He kissed your nose. “These hips that drive me insane…” He kissed your cheek. “These perfect breasts…” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “All of it. I love all of you.”
And then he kissed you properly. His lips were soft but insistent, his tongue exploring your mouth with a familiarity that made your body melt against his. You could feel him hard beneath you, pressing against your center, and you moaned into his mouth.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your lips, rolling his hips in slow circles that made sparks burst behind your eyes. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. I want to know what you like.”
His hands moved over your body with adoration. They caressed your thighs, slid up to your hips, traced the curve of your waist. Every touch felt like worship.
“Leon,” you moaned, gripping his shoulders as he kissed down your neck, then lower to the valley between your breasts. “Please…”
“What do you need, baby?” he asked, looking into your eyes while his thumbs brushed the sides of your breasts. “Tell me.”
“You,” you whispered. “I need you. Inside me.”
He groaned, that rough, masculine sound that always made you wetter.
“First,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his mouth, “I want to taste you.”
He helped you lie back gently, always making sure your side was not pressed uncomfortably against the sofa. He placed pillows carefully beneath your back to keep you supported and safe, then leaned over you.
He started with your breasts, taking them in both hands and kissing every inch of sensitive skin. Your breath caught when he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking softly while his other hand stroked your stomach, the belly he loved so much.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. “So soft. So perfect.”
He moved lower, kissing your navel and tracing circles with his tongue over your stomach. You felt like you were dying of embarrassment and pleasure at the same time, but he looked up at you with those intense eyes.
“Don’t hide, sweetheart.”
And how could you deny him anything when he asked like that, with that rough voice and those pleading eyes? You let your hands fall to your sides, and he smiled, so full of love that it made your heart overflow.
He moved lower, kissing the inside of your thighs, caressing your softness with reverence. When he finally pulled your panties off and opened you for him, the sound he made was almost one of relief.
“God, look at you,” he whispered, and then his tongue was on you, hot and insistent.
You cried out his name, arching against him, but he immediately noticed the way your body tensed from the movement.
“Shhh,” he soothed, placing a gentle hand over your stomach. “Easy, love. Don’t move. Let me do the work.”
And he did. God, he did. His tongue brought you to the edge over and over, his fingers sliding in and out of you at a torturous pace.
“Leon, I’m going to…” you gasped, gripping the sheets.
“Come for me,” he ordered softly. “I want to feel you. Give it to me, sweetheart.”
And you came with a muffled cry, your body trembling beneath him. When you came back down, he was above you, kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks.
“I need you,” you said, still breathless, feeling his hardness against your thigh. “Now, Leon. Please. I want to feel you inside… I want you to come inside me.”
He groaned deeply, his eyes darkening with desire.
“Are you sure?” he asked, though he was already positioning himself between your legs. “I want to fill you, sweetheart. I want to feel you around me when I let go.”
“Yes,” you pleaded, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please, Leon. I want to feel it. I want you to fill me.”
But instead of entering you like that, he helped you sit up again. He wanted to see you, to be close to your heart.
“Come here,” he whispered, lifting you easily with his strong arms and settling you back onto his lap.
He lowered you onto him slowly, guiding your hips with one hand while the other supported your back away from your wound. He pushed into you inch by inch, and you both moaned at the same time when he was fully inside.
“God,” he gasped, resting his forehead against yours. “You feel incredible. So tight, so warm.”
“Move,” you whispered, holding onto his neck. “Please, baby. I want to feel you move inside me.”
He started with slow, deep thrusts, his strong hands lifting your hips and guiding you back down onto him in a rhythm that made you lose your mind. Every movement filled you completely, and you could feel every pulse of him, every inch of his hardness.
“Look at me,” he asked, and when you opened your eyes, he was watching you with an intensity that stole your breath. “I want to see your face when you come with me inside you. I want to see your eyes when I fill you.”
“Leon…” you moaned, feeling pleasure gather again. “I’m close… I’m going to…”
“Me too,” he growled, his hips moving faster while still keeping control, always careful with your side. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good. I’m going to… I’m going to come inside you. I’m going to fill you. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” you whimpered, taking his face in your hands. “Yes, please, do it. I want to feel it. I want all of you.”
He kissed you desperately, tongues tangling, and then he shifted the angle slightly, lifting your hips a little more so every thrust brushed that perfect spot inside you.
“Come with me,” he ordered, his voice rough and tight. “Now, sweetheart. Come with me.”
Your orgasm hit you like a wave, your body clenching around him, your walls pulsing around his cock. Leon groaned deeply, burying his face in your neck, and then you felt the first hot, milky burst inside you.
“God, sweetheart!” he cried out, his thrusts turning erratic as he emptied himself inside you, spilling into you in hot pulses. “I love you… fuck, I love you so much…”
He kept moving, drawing out your orgasm, making sure every drop stayed inside you. You could feel the warmth spreading, the wet, primal sensation of him marking you from within, and it was so intimate, so perfect, that happy tears filled your eyes.
When he finally calmed, he stayed inside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your lips with endless tenderness.
“Are you okay?” he asked, stroking your side carefully. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “I’m perfect. I’m… I’m full of you.”
He smiled against your skin, pulling out of you carefully and letting his release stay inside you, warm and physical proof of his love.
“I want another round,” he said softly, kissing your shoulder. “But only if you feel okay. I want to make you come again. I want to feel you around me while I’m still sensitive.”
You nodded, still floating in the haze of pleasure. He helped you lie on your stomach, but not directly against the mattress. He built a small mountain of pillows beneath your hips and chest, raising you in a way that kept your wound completely free of pressure. He angled you slightly to the side so your left side did not touch anything.
“How’s that?” he asked, kneeling between your legs and stroking your back. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” you whispered, feeling exposed, vulnerable, but incredibly cared for.
He entered you from behind, and even though he had already finished, he was still hard, still driven by his desire for you. He leaned over you, holding his weight on one forearm while his other hand stroked your hip, your thigh, your stomach.
“I can feel myself inside you,” he whispered in awe, moving slowly.
“Yours,” you repeated, turning your head to search for his lips.
He kissed you, crooked and deep, while his hips moved against yours in long, sensual thrusts. His hand slipped between your body and the pillows, finding your clit and rubbing it in perfect circles.
“I want to feel you come like this,” he murmured against your skin. “With my cum inside you, with my hand on your belly. I want you to know you’re mine, completely mine.”
“Leon…” you moaned, feeling pleasure build again, slower this time, but deeper.
“Let go,” he insisted, kissing your shoulder, your neck. “I’m here. I’ve got you. And I’m going to fill you again, sweetheart. I want to leave you so full of me.”
The thought of him coming inside you again, filling you for a second time, pushed you toward the edge. You moaned his name over and over like a prayer.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, moving faster, his fingers working your clit with precision. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come with my cock inside you, full of my cum.”
And you came with a sob that he caught with his mouth, your body trembling, your walls clenching tight around him again. He groaned, deep and rough, and then you felt him tense, felt him spill inside you a second time, his thrusts turning deep and desperate as he filled you.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he panted, collapsing gently over you while still careful not to crush your side. “You’re… you’re incredible.”
He stayed inside you for long minutes, kissing your back, whispering sweet words against your sweaty skin. When he finally pulled out, he did it carefully, and you felt the mixture of both of your releases sliding down your thighs, physical proof of his desire.
He wrapped you in the shirt you had been wearing and lifted you into his arms. He carried you, sat down with you in his lap, wrapped you in a soft blanket and tucked you against his chest.
“How do you feel?” he asked, kissing your forehead. “Does your side hurt?”
“No,” you whispered, stroking his chest.
He smiled, that tired, happy smile you loved so much.
“Good,” he said, kissing your temple. “Because you’re mine. And I’m yours. Completely.”
And as the sun was rising outside, painting the sky in warm colors, you fell asleep in his arms, safer and more loved than you had ever been, full of him in every possible way, because now you knew that Leon Kennedy would do anything, even put at stake anybodys lifes if it meant you were going to be safe.
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