Cruel is Just a Thing You Do || Dark!Leon Kennedy
Dark!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader || 4.3k words
Warnings: HEAVY dubious/non con, implied recreational drug use, unprotected sex. stockholm syndrome.
Summary: You tried to escape, and it was too late when you realized that you fucked up. Badly. As Leon inevitably drags you back into captivity, there’s nothing else you can do but accept your inevitable fate.
This fic is also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73564396
Author’s Notes: Hello! Dumping all my draft fics/unpolished fics before I make new ones lol. Also this is fic is sort of a character study on Leon.. especially with his fixation on saving others. So I wanted to see/envision what it would be like if Leon had the wrong coping mechanisms/was not as nice as he is in the current verse! This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile, so I wanted to finally post it.. even if it is kinda half-baked. Enjoy!! ^^ he is pathetic here. I love it.
Leon’s love life was pretty fucked. Scratch that. His entire life was pretty fucked.
Before you, he was hung up on Ada coming back from his mission in China at the time. But hey, it wasn’t anything a little booze couldn’t fix. Eventually coming to his senses, he told himself that yeah, maybe chasing the same woman hopelessly for 14 years wasn’t the best idea. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him back, but things between them were just too complicated.
Eventually, he moved on. Roughly a year or two later, a few months before being forced to fight against Arias, he met— well, more like saw you. It was like he fell in love all over again, he had to have you. He stalked you for a bit, eventually drugged you up, took you home and one year later you’re still here.
Until you escaped. Or tried to. You were back before you knew it.
As soon as you gradually rouse from unconsciousness, the feeling of your heart sinking to your stomach is instant. Your head’s throbbing, your body barely able to move and sickeningly relaxed. Memory’s all fogged up, too, barely being able to piece together what happened during your attempted escape. Images flicker in your head like a broken film reel.
You recall the smell of the dew on damp grass, the breeze of the wind hitting you as your hair flowed in its direction, the moonlit night and the soft hum of the crickets.
One year, two months, three weeks and five days.
You kept count. You don't know the date, though. When you’d ask about it, you wouldn’t get an answer anyway, but you assume it’s around some time in February. As if there were anything better to do anyway than to count your days, but if you were good enough you at least got to watch some TV once in a while.
You haven’t seen the outside ever since you have been held captive here. The calling of freedom was right there, in your grasp and then everything turned black– now you're back here. You failed. The mocking voice echoes in your head.
The cold metal of the shackles, the soft silky sheets against bare skin, the way your body sinks in the mattress, the familiarity of the sensations only taunts you further. You struggle opening your eyes as if weights were stuck on each of your eyelids. Managing to squint, you find that the bedroom is pitch dark.
It wasn’t for long though, the door creaked open and your eyes were blinded by the light flooding in from the other room. Still feeling the adverse effects of whatever sedative Leon gave you, your vision is at best coloured blobs that blur into one another. Though, you can faintly make out the silhouette of the man standing by the door frame.
“Are you awake yet, sweetheart?”
The soft rumble of his voice fills the room and rings your ears. You vaguely hear the flick of a switch, your hunch was validated as the floor lamp lit up dimly. Squirming against the restraints, albeit not that intense you still wince at the sudden brightness that shrouded your eyes, shutting them as they struggled to adjust to the light.
His footsteps echo louder and louder as you hear him get closer, you know he’s beside you as soon as the subtle shift in weight of the mattress as you feel it dip when he sits down. You furrow your brows as the dull ache in your head worsens. “How’s your head? Ketamine’s one hell of a drug, huh? Last time I used that on ya was when I took ya home last year, baby.”
He says casually, as if drugging someone were a completely normal thing to do. Though you knew he was some sort of high ranking agent in the government, you weren’t surprised if he did find it normal. The government’s got all kinds of fucked up shit they’re hiding anyway. You try to mumble something as you tear up and frown, though it ends up incoherent.
“You trying to say something, hm?” He says, caressing your cheeks gently as he swipes a few tears off your cheek with his thumb. “Shh, don’t cry now, puppy. What’re you tryna say? I need ya to speak up for me.” He says in an oddly comforting tone. You open your eyes slightly, the blur lessening as you can faintly make out his face. He looks almost guilt stricken.
“Was so close,” you mutter and sob as you begin to shiver at the cool air on your clothless body, struggling to move with your restraints. It wasn’t comforting like the wind outside when you got out, it was just another reminder that you failed. “I wanna go,” you slur, the ketamine still coursing through your veins. “You know I can’t let you do that, sweetheart,” Leon replies, as he covers you with a soft blanket and leans in to press his lips against yours. You flinch, but physically unable to do anything to stop him.
He notices how uncomfy you look against those straps. He hates it when you’re hurt, but he also reminds himself of how you tried to leave him. Still, he was weak when it came to you. He felt bad enough, so instead he grabbed the ankle chain. It’s the one he typically keeps you in. He had it built into the wall, long enough so you can reach and roam comfortably around the bedroom and the bathroom attached to it. He cuffs it onto your right ankle, and unstraps your hands and feet afterwards.
You hated how he acts like he loves you. It only prolongs things, especially intimately, which only means more suffering. You’d rather he fuck you quick and get with it. Weirdly enough, you felt a warmth pit into your stomach as he took pity on you, and finally you’re able to let your body breathe. You’ve been getting those weird feelings whenever he would act all smitten with you, and you hated it.
“Thank you,” you reply instinctively, dumbfounded at yourself. God, why the fuck did you just say that? He locked you in here in the first place. Fuck. You thought; mentally beating yourself up. “S’no problem, baby,” he says, wrapping his hands around your waist as he lifts you onto his lap. “Just.. don’t run away like that again.” There was something awfully melancholic about his tone.
You wondered why he hadn’t punished you at this point, though after your first two or three months locked up he had been lax with you ever since. He’s sort of warmed up to you after some time, if you can call it that. Why? You don’t know why, he used to punish you during that period of time but he had stopped. Instead, he would get all upset like he is now and you would drown in guilt afterwards. Though you know you shouldn’t.
And he just held you like that, in his lap, stroking your hair with your head pressed against his chest. You manage to weakly get out a why. “What do you mean why, puppy?” He asks, quivering an eyebrow. “Why..why me?” you say, still feeling out of it. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, maybe the drugs, or maybe you really are going insane after spending so long here.
“Because, puppy, from the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. I just…needed a permanent fix in my life, baby, and that was you.”
He wasn’t lying. It was like love at first sight, or at least he thinks it is. And it just so happened that he takes a liking for pretty little things like you.
You couldn’t make out what was in his voice, but something just seemed to disturb him. He was always so vague when you asked questions like this. You don’t even know why you’re trying to resonate with him right now, but if this really were going to be the rest of your life… You might as well, right?
He buried his face onto the crook of your neck as he held onto your hips to force you to straddle him. “Stop,” you whine, pawing weakly at his chest. Your mind still feels awfully disconnected from your body, your coordination severely impaired. “I can’t, sweetheart, you know that. I need this, I..I need you.” He digs his fingers onto your hips, it was as if he was pleading to you.
As much as you hated him, there were moments where you almost felt bad for him. Fuck, how lonely is this guy? What even happened that fucked him up in the head this bad?
You let out a whimper as he presses you down onto his clothed cock, him humming in response as he continues peppering kisses on your neck and collar bone. “Fuck, m’so sorry sweetheart, I can’t control myself.” He husks in your ear, letting his breath tickle your ears.
You hate when he apologises, because you know he’ll end up doing it anyway. He’s just apologising to make himself feel better about it.
“S..stop,” you say just above a whisper, feeling all dizzy. “I can’t,” One of his hands flutters away from your hips, trailing to from your abdomen and down to cup your pussy. He pressed his forehead against yours, and your suspicions were confirmed when you would smell the alcohol that reeked from this breath. You knew he never fucked you without a little liquid courage, but too bad he’s got a drinking problem. “I need you so much baby… You don’t understand.”
He never intended his life to turn out this way. Not to mention he’s dragged you into this…fucking mess. Like he always does. You didn't ask for this, but he didn’t either. He only wants you safe, he says more empty words to himself, attempting to find some semblance of reassurance. Then again, what really was right and wrong at this point? Everything comes in a blur, nothing feels real for him anymore. Not even himself.
Now that he thinks of it, you sort of remind him of himself. You were thrown headfirst into a mess you didn’t ask for. Though the circumstances differ.
You whimper as he slips two fingers inside you, shutting his eyes as he smashes his lips onto yours, ‘cause he really couldn’t handle looking at your pained expression. He curls his fingers inside you, causing you to yelp into the kiss. With salty tears streaming down your cheeks again, he could taste them as he kissed you.
Pulling away from the kiss, he brings up his other hand to stroke your hair in an attempt to console you. He’s still moving his fingers, though slowly. “Fuck, sweetie, please don’t cry,” he says, ridden with agonizing self-awareness. “I know it’s not fair for you, but I can’t help it,” he kisses your tears away, muttering sorry as he plants each one. You swear you could see him tear up, too.
He begins scissoring into your pussy, stretching it open as he spreads apart his fingers whilst pumping them in and out of you. You let out soft whimpers as you adjust, never quite getting used to the feeling. As far as Leon has gone with kidnapping you, he always, strangely enough, made it a point about how he doesn’t want to hurt you.
Though, sometimes ended up being too rough when he was blackout drunk, fucking you while saying awfully sappy shit and begging you to not leave him. As if you could leave this damned place anyway. Though he’d always apologise, like that’ll do anything, and practically plead sorry to you on his knees. You’d gotten the worst of it the first month you had gotten here, but over time he managed to tone it down.
You let out small mewls as you hold weakly onto his broad shoulders for support, continuing to coax his fingers into your sweet spot. He presses his thumb against your clit and rubs it. “Yeah, cum for me,” he continued stroking your clit, going a bit faster.
He was always nice enough to always prep you, to praise you whenever you took him, and sometimes if he were sober enough he’d stop when you told him to.
You feel a warmth pool in your tummy, instinctively grinding down, meeting in time with each thrust of his fingers. “Leon,” you moan softly, as you feel yourself cum on his thick fingers. “Oh, puppy, you’re such a good girl,” he praises. As he’s withdrawing his digits out of you, you whine in response at the loss. You fall limp in his arms, still straddling him whilst you’re laying your head against his chest as you pant.
Your mind feels all fuzzy, unable to think straight due to the combination of sex and drugs. Leon says something, though you couldn’t register it in your head, feeling pretty out of it right now. He pushes you gently away from his chest, positioning you to stay upright. You hear a zip, watching dumbly as he pulls down his grey boxers to take out his semi-hard cock. He gives it a couple strokes, before lifting your hips to line his cock up with your folds.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans, slowly lowering you onto his cock. He let his head rest on your shoulder, nestling his face comfortably. “Don’t leave me again, please,” his voice muffled into the curve of your neck. There’s something to his voice that makes it sincere, something real. It was almost as if he sounded hurt, in a way.
Your mouth opens to form words, though all you can get out are cries as he slowly eases his dick into you. You’ve never seen someone so conflicted before, you can’t help but feel curious. It’s like he almost wants to let you go, but he also wants to keep you at the same time. Once he’s finally fully sheathed inside you, he just kind of stays like that, which gives you a moment to breathe.
“Why..won’t you let me go?” You asked, as the words hung heavy in the air with a long pause. Leon’s breath hitches at the question, “I don’t..I don’t know,” as he pulls his head away from your shoulder and runs a hand through his hair whilst the other is still kept on your hip. His eyebrows knit together in strife. “You make me feel normal again.”
“..normal?” Fuck, you really are going crazy.
“I’ve seen, done, a lot..of shit, puppy. It’s..it’s not pretty. Wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy,” he keened, “I can’t tell you, it’s for the best.” He said, bucking his hips up, causing you to moan. “Even if I wanted to, shit’s classified anyway,” he mumbled in addition to his previous statements. You noticed something about the topic caused visible discomfort in his face. Especially the way he tensed up, he almost scowled while talking.
He wasn’t wrong. All both of you can do is accept that the current circumstances are as normal as it can get.
Leon’s always thought he’d secure a stable job at the police force, getting the occasional promotion, helping others and doing justice. Protecting them. Or do boring shit like give speeding tickets. Also hoping to find love, wife someone up and have kids to go home to everyday from work. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, maybe he’ll knock you up, but that’s for some other day.
But all of this was some bullshit American dream, some white picket-fenced fantasy he’s long gone to achieve.
Sure, you can say he’s got a bigger role as an agent, bigger shoes to fill which means more to help. Going on missions worldwide. But at what cost? The government’s corrupt, and millions of innocent lives sacrificed on every major scale mission. Yet, if he fails to accomplish it, even more die.
He can never really win, can he?
He slowly started moving you up and down, going at a remiss pace. You shut your eyes and brace yourself, clinging onto him as he continues bouncing you on his dick. As he does so, your mind slips in and out of consciousness, fragments of your memory floating back in your head.
You barely remember what life was like anymore before you got here. Maybe Leon was right about taking you in. Maybe he had a good reason, and that your life really was just that boring.
“Leon..?” You moan, as he begins rhythmically thrusting upwards in time as he bounces you. “Mm, yeah?” He grunts, interrupting mid-sentence before he continues. “Fuck— What is it, baby?” Leon bites his lip, reveling in just how fuckin’ tight you are. Damn, did you feel good.
Sure, he may have a million problems in his life, but at least he can forget it when he’s running a train into your pussy. And sure, you can say he’s running away from them. That he’s creating temporary solutions for long-term things. But by taking you in, that makes it permanent in a way. Technically.
“Hng— Have you..” you attempt to form a string of words, finding it more and more difficult as Leon drills himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot. You arch your back and cry out in both pain, and denially, pleasure. “..ever tried..ngh— therapy?” You say in one breath, cursing yourself out internally. Why do you care? He got you in this mess and you’re worried if he’s going to fucking therapy?
“You think I haven’t tried?” He says defensively. He halts his movements, looking you in the eye. “Sweetheart, I’ve tried everything. Nothing..nothing works,” he sucks in a breath as he digs his fingernails into your hips. “Not until I found you. Plus,” Leon hastily picks you up, plopping you down on the bed, causing your body on the fluffy mattress to spring gently from the impact.
“You think a therapist could give me this–” Spreading your legs as he crawls in between them, hovering over you, he angles himself again and groans at a particularly hard thrust that causes you to yelp. “After a long, hard day?” He husked, grabbing at your waist as he remained still a bit to let you adjust again.
Somewhat knocking yourself back into your senses, you took this as an opportunity to speak properly. “So therapy didn’t..hng..work..but kidnapping me will?” You retort, where he was visibly not impressed at your remark. “Sweetheart.” He gruffly says. You don’t understand, Leon thinks.
He continues; “I didn’t kidnap you…” Trailing off, he gets distracted as he begins fucking you slow again. “I—I saved you.” You can tell that some part of him believes it, and the other feels like he’s lying to himself. “From what..?” Your voice is hushed and breathy as he thrusts into you. God, you’re both so far gone in your own ways.
"I'm only keeping you safe, away from all the danger out there.." He says, picking up his pace once more. His voice cracking, he sounds hurt. You definitely struck a chord. "..I can't afford to lose anything more, especially not you." His tone wasn’t insincere. If your eyelids weren’t so droopy, you would have caught him tearing up.
He can’t help it. You feel so good with that tight little pussy clinging onto him like a fucking vice. Muttering a few curses under his breath, he keeps one hand on your thigh to keep your legs spread but brings the other in to cup your breast. He gives it a good few squeezes before trailing down to rub your clit as he fucks you rough, ‘cause he was nice like that.
You grab tight on the sheets as Leon’s pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. In a dazed state, you’re practically squealing beneath him, obscene sounds escaping your throat. You watch him above you, your vision less blurred now, as he scrunches his eyebrows and grit his teeth.
Leon cringed as he watched his cock slide in and out of your pussy, another pang of guilt and self-consciousness suddenly interrupting his hedonistic state. It happens, but now it’s been happening more often than he’d like. He quickly forgot about it though because damn, it never got old watching your pussy lips stretch around his dick.
As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Leon knows damn well how to fuck, and not to mention his cock is fat too. You don’t understand why he felt the need to kidnap you, and rape you, because if this were any other situation, you’d probably be drooling for him. This is wrong.
You think that right now you probably look stupid, all cock drunk with tears and snot streaming down your face as the wind gets knocked out of you with each one of his thrusts. “You cry so—,” he grunts, “so pretty, fuck.” He always tells you that whenever you do. You don’t understand why though, because you think you look like you’re a drowning puddle of your mixed fluids. Something about it felt validating, though. A part of you craved his attention, his words, his compliments. He thinks you’re pretty.
He leans in, pressing his forehead and nose onto yours. As he did, he slowed his pace down but he drove into you hard. You could feel his ragged breathing, as he drew in air from his nose and exhaled out his mouth, letting his breath tickle your face. You flail your arms and hold onto his back instead, feeling the texture of the healed skin of his scars on it, some of which left by you.
You’re confused. You always were when it came to him.
He fucked like he hated you, yet he talked like he loved you. It should’ve only served to fuel your resentment and fear. Should’ve, but it didn’t. It inexplicably, twinged an odd warmth and his words evoked you into a false sense of security. It was bizarre how you didn’t even bother resisting whenever he did anything anymore, how you felt butterflies in your tummy whenever he did or said something nice to you. Maybe he cares, he really does.
“Leon,” you sob, clawing at his muscular back. Illogically, you feel yourself moving back against his thrusts. A part of you chased pleasure, but even deeper down you knew that it'd be even better when he praised you. You yearned for his approval, and craved for his attention. Much against your will. You hated yourself for it, recoiling inwardly in shame.
“You’re so good f’me, sweetie,” he husks as he smashes his lips against yours. Your ideology crumbles further as soon as you hear his praise, making you melt beneath his touch and his lips.
He felt bad enough that he offered you an explanation. "I wanted... I needed something to hold onto. Something real."
“You think keeping me here is real? This isn’t a normal life."
“You can’t force normalcy.”
“But I didn't know what else to do. I'm tired of being alone, of losing everyone I care about."
“When I'm with you, I can forget.”
Fuck, did you really have to ask so many questions? Leon mutters under his breath, not enough for you to hear. For fuck’s sake, he’s fucking you to forget, not to remember, he thinks. He’s already told you too much, if you keep asking any more fucking questions, he might just break.
What’s gotten in your ass today? You’ve been so nosy, sticking it around in things you shouldn’t be. Usually, when he’d fuck you, you already learned to take it like a good girl. While duct tape sounded pretty good about now, he wouldn’t risk hurting you more than he already has. He knows it’s wrong deep down, but he needs you too damn much to ever let go.
He lets a few tears run down his cheek, closing his eyes to try and stop them from flowing. To clear his head. “I’ve failed to save so many people, baby..” He breathed, his voice filled with distress as he huffs and goes at a harsh pace. “I just want it to be different this time.”
How many people did he fail to save in Raccoon City? How many brainwashed people did he kill back in Spain? How many fucked up missions did he have to go on alone? How many people was he not able to protect, like when Luis had gotten stabbed by his fucking superior? Like when he managed to get his entire team killed by his own hands? Or when he gave Sherry into government custody just for them to use her for some fucked up experiment?
Like when his entire team turned into zombies and had to murder them with his own hands? Why is it everyone but him? He’s always been a survivor, yet never a saviour. Then he saw you. And he finally thought that; maybe, just maybe, he could at least do something right with you. Maybe, this was his chance.
And just when he thought he could save you, he couldn’t even save you from himself.
It’s wrong. You can’t help but enjoy it.
And you squirm as you feel warm, hot spurts of his cum fill you up, Leon grunting loudly as he sloppily pounds into you.
You really can’t help but feel thankful, because if it were someone else, maybe they wouldn’t have cared so much for you as he did. They would have fucked you till you bled, beaten and starved you. They would have never made you cum, nor tried to please you. Maybe, you’re gaslighting yourself into thinking this way as some sort of defence mechanism, or maybe, just maybe, it could be something else.
Maybe a part of you felt cared for.
Maybe Leon is nice. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, and that you were just overreacting. Maybe you are really being saved. Maybe you should be grateful.
Maybe… this isn’t so bad after all.
