friends with benefits with leon where he doesn't even hide how much he loves you, how he practically follows you around like a dumb puppy, eyes sparkling as he looks up to you. he doesn't mind that you just go to him when you need to let off some steam, because at least you go to him. he counts himself lucky that he gets to see you in such a vulnerable state, your face scrunching in pleasure as you sink down on his cock. hell, he's blessed that he gets to touch your body, his fingers gripping at the soft fat of your thighs, lips pressing against your neck and tits. maybe one day the marks he leaves on you will become permanent, that you'll allow him to stay in your life forever. he doubts it. but it's nice to imagine.
It was supposed to be a Valentine's day art... but I struggled so much with Ada's face that I almost gave up. This week I came back to it and here it is :3 Hope you guys like my first Aeon art.
i’ve been hiding the comeback of apple pie for- months.
FIVE more chapters in the works and this is only the first one.
Apple pie part 6
Warnings: Mentions of throw up, angst and depictions of panic attacks.
I’m so excited for you guys to read this.
————————————————————————
ding
That chirping noise of the bell above the front door of your shop that somehow still made you jump even if you’ve been here every single day for 12 hours.
Was it smart to use all of your savings to open up your own flower shop? Probably not. Yet you didn’t have a single care in the world. Moving to the city was probably the best decision you could’ve made for yourself. Trying to forget a life you once knew, that person you used to be.
Your flower shop was unique though. Yes you sell bouquets, but If people were having a hard time picking what they wanted, you would make them a bouquet of their own 12 flowers. And since it was spring, business was booming. Your eyes flicked up, a wide smile growing across your face as you watched a man walk in, his eyes scanning over all of the separate bouquets.
Your fingers held at the knife in your hand, picking the thorns off the white roses between your fingers. Your form finally focuses back onto the bouquet you were creating, the pink ribbon resting on the counter. 12pm and the store was still this dead.
Your body jolted as the man who walked in earlier was in front of the counter, your finger pushing up onto the thorn on the stem making you hiss as you quickly pressed your now bleeding finger into your jeans before you looked up at him.
“What can I help you with?”
Handsome. The scruff on his face shaped perfection to him, and his smile was even better, his dark brown hair and broad shoulders making you wonder if he would be able to tell if you were staring.
“Sorry to scare you, Is your finger okay?”
His voice was like butter too? You were sure you looked almost starstruck, your head shaking as you let out a short laugh.
“Please, I’m my only employee, I cut myself so many times a week.”
The man chuckled softly, his eyes gazing over the braid on your shoulder and the glasses on your face. Then it hit you, this is the same man who’s been passing by every week. You noticed he would peer in whenever you were moving new pots in, but the shop is right next to a bakery so you assumed maybe people just looked.
“Not to sound like a stalker but, I was wondering If you wanted to go out sometime”
Was he really asking you out? Your heart was beating in your ears as you accidentally let out a huff, your eyes flickered around the shop as his hand rested against the counter.
“You’re asking somebody out and we haven’t even exchanged names?”
Your sentence made him smile yet again and god, did you enjoy seeing it. He shrugged, putting his larger hand out across the counter.
“You’re right, how rude of me. Chris Redfield.”
Your bleeding finger suddenly stopped, allowing you to reach your hand up, grabbing at his and smiling widely as you both exchanged a firm handshake.
“Well, I would love to go out sometime, Chris.”
Anybody should be flattered when a handsome man asks them out, right?
Right.
The view from your apartment was gorgeous. Especially at night time. The air lingered with silence as you poured yourself a glass of red wine, your heater turning on as you began to walk towards the chair you had facing the big open window by your living area. You sat down with a soft sigh, your legs crossing as you took a long sip of the thick red liquid. How many bottles did you go through this week anyways.
Your other hand comes up to rub your bare arm, your body flinching as you quickly pull your fingers away. A loud sigh leaves you as tears quickly weld in your eyes, the wine glass in your hand tilting back as you suddenly gulped down the liquid, a thin red line of spilled wine running down your chin as you just watched the active city below you.
Where could he be? You wondered as you wiped your chin, four years is a long time right? He has definitely forgotten after four years.
Maybe he went back for you.
This is a mental battle you’ve had with yourself everyday for the last year since you left your hometown. Selling your house to a single mom, who had promised to keep your garden alive when you left. The thought of him showing up to not find you always left you broken. But he had all that time, there’s no way he showed up.
It’s why you moved. You couldn’t keep yourself there with the hope that one day he would appear again. You had this sick fantasy that he would come back and everything would go back to normal, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. It killed your mental health and it still does.
Yet here you were, going on a date with some man that you don’t even know. You could hear Leon in the back of your head lecturing you about how stupid it is to give strangers your number, let alone your apartment number. You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of a knock at the door, the sound of your heels clicking filling the apartment as you walked to the front and swung it open to see Chris.
You blinked at him a few times then looked down at the bouquet of pink roses and daisies in his hands. His arm extends to hand them to you carefully.
“Wow, these are beautiful, thank you so much.”
Yet there was a heavy feeling in your throat at the sight of the daisies. You refused to grow them at your shop and there was a reason why. You swallowed the lump in your throat, quickly inviting the man into the apartment as you hurried to the kitchen to put them in a vase.
“Not as beautiful as you though, not to sound overly sappy or anything.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you shook your head, tucking some hair behind your ear as you set the vase of flowers on your counter and looking at him.
“What, you talk to girls like this all the time?”
Chris shook his head as the two of you began to walk to the front door, his head shaking as he held it open for you and let you lock it.
“Personally, women don’t really talk to me”
—————————————————————-
There’s no way women don’t talk to Chris redfield.
The two of you have been at this fancy restaurant he took you to for hours, laughing up a storm over random jokes and old childhood embarrassing stories. Your eyes scanned over his arms and his shirt before you tilted your head leaning forward a bit.
“I can’t believe I've never asked, what do you do for work?”
It’s to forward a question.
What if he lies to you?
How can you know he’s being honest-
“Well my career started when I was very young. I enrolled in the United States air force. Then I got tired of it I guess, started working at this place called Racoon City Police Department for a special service squad. Now I work for a private government agency, sorry if that scared you away. I know it may seem like my job is dangerous but I guarantee I'm fine.”
His honesty hit you like a truck. You blinked at him a few times processing what he had told you before a bell very similar to the one in your store rang in your head..
“Racoon City?”
You spoke, your fingers stopped tapping at the table as you looked across at Chris who just slowly nodded.
Don’t bring it up.
“Well it doesn’t push me away. I like a man in uniform.”
Hitting him back with corny pickup lines was your perfect solution.
“I’m supposed to go to this big company party next week, I don’t have a plus one. You should come with me.”
Chris spoke as he glanced at you after taking a bite of his food.
Saying yes was definitely far out of your comfort zone but, you’ve known him for about a month now. What could possibly go wrong anyways
——————————————————————
“Grief isn't just the mourn of death. Grief can hit you in so many ways, and the way it processes in your brain makes it harder to heal.”
Hearing your therapist's words made a soft sigh leave your lips as you just nodded your head. staring at the wall behind her as she just looked at you.
“You can’t hold onto the fact that maybe he was going to come back, you’ll drive yourself crazy forever.”
Plus, you had Chris now. He was an angel, he treated you so right and even if you didn’t want to talk about your ex- who wasn’t even really your ex but you were in love with him. He never made you happy.
Yet the way Chris treats you makes you wonder if the two of you could’ve been like this, sometimes you close your eyes and imagine that simple life with Leon but it can never happen. Not now.
——————————————————————
The weather has been so bad. Pouring every single day and Chris knows how much storms scare you. So staying at his house was definitely a blessing. The two of you weren’t dating yet, It’s only been two months and he says he knows what he wants but you’re not sure you believe him yet.
He works these awfully long hours leaving you alone in his house laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The sound of the rain growing heavier gains your attention as you glance over at the window, your heart suddenly racing as you clear your throat sitting up.
——-
The memory is clear as day still.
Your eyes fixated on your window in your bedroom. Your head snapping as you hear Leon whistle walking into the room.
“I hate-“
“You hate storms, you bring it up everytime it rains you know.”
Leon spoke with a small smile as he sat down on the bed, his fingers gently grabbing at your wrist, frowning slightly to feel how elevated your heart beat is. He quickly pulls you to his chest, making sure you’re comfortable. He loves how soft your hair is, his fingers running through the strands of your hair as you both soak in the silence.
“If something ever happened. Like we were to get separated and I haven’t seen you in years- I bet you’d pretend like you never knew me.”
Leon let your sentence settle for a second, his eyebrows frowned as he shook his head, his eyes dancing over the odd pattern of your ceiling as he gently gripped your shoulder and looked down at you.
“I would never pretend to not know you.”
——-
You don’t know why but the thought makes you sick. Sprinting to Chris’ bathroom, holding onto your stomach as you throw up, your hands grabbing at the floor now as tears quickly spring to your eyes. Then you’re gasping for breath, shaking your head as you stand up, your shaking palms reaching for the sink.
Everything is dizzy, and almost cloudy. You turn the water on, quickly splashing your face. Your vision is still dancing when you look up into the mirror, the edges starting to clear as you let out a long breath.
It’s hard being in a hole.
———————-
“Chris can you please zip this up, i don’t have the patience.”
The words came out jumbled and stressed, your skin rising with goosebumps when Chris’ fingers brush against your back, zipping up the dress with ease before he leans down slightly. Kissing at your shoulder as he grips at your arms. His thumbs caressing over your soft skin.
“As beautiful as the day I first saw you.”
Chris was what you needed. In a time where you felt most alone he showed up. He looked so handsome in his suit, you lick at your thumb as you fix his eyebrows, smiling as he grabs at your waist.
“You ready? Or do you need more time.”
He always worked around you.
“I’m ready but- thank you.”
Chris always rambled on about how his work space was honestly great. You couldn’t tell if he was lying because you use to say the same thing when you worked at the diner. The drive was suppose to be almost half an hour but it felt like two minutes.
Chris always opened the car door for you, his hand holding onto yours tightly as you two walked through the parking lot.
Your palms were sweaty, a feeling of unease lingering in the air.Something just felt off- almost like you were scared but of what?
Its badges of honor. Of course Chris was getting one but he didn’t tell you who else. The two of you were standing in the lobby of this giant hall forever, when the sound of Chris name made your head turn.
It all made sense. It felt like the blood was drained from your body, Chris’ hand slipping off your lower back to hug him.
Him?
Chris finally turns back to you, a wide smile on his face.
“Can’t believe I've never mentioned him. This is my friend, Leon.”
Your eyes are wide. Your throat feels like it’s swelling .
Leon too of course. His face white and his gaze fixated on your visibly shaken form
author’s note: this is a secondary piece to apathy, another fic of mine!! that fic was mostly a vent fic, as i wrote it to kinda soothe myself and my own worries about how i feel as a person. however!! this fic was requested to be significantly darker and sadder, so if you don’t vibe with that, then i have good news for u !! leon and reader actually lived happily ever after in that universe!! the original intent of that fic is that the reader just has the self perception of a bad person but is actually not at all!! but this fic… is not that haha..
author’s note: if you see typos, no you don’t. they’re not real. this fic is... really messy. i'm kinda ashamed but i've been working on it so long that i need to just post it lol.
word count: 5.3k
content: leon x reader, sub!leon, dom!fem!reader, angst angst angst, biting, hickieys, riding, choking, leon gets lightheaded and passes out, violent language. there's also a reference to a scene from apathy but from more of leon's recollection and memory! :)
warning: this fic is dark content, containing the topics and depictions of emotional abuse, manipulation, love-bombing ish, narcissistic reader, along with dubcon as reader doesn’t listen when leon expresses a boundary around choking.
—
notes:
“you’re killing me here,” he says, a soft tone to his gravel-like voice. he is tired, exasperated. you are ripping him apart, stealing any sense of joy from his aching soul. he gives and gives and gives and he doesn’t know how much longer he has in him before you… before maybe he admits that you were right. maybe you would ruin him.
you don’t know the half of it, you think. maybe i will really kill you one of these days.
—
leon is growing.. tired of you.
not really. that’s a lie. he loves you dearly, so much that it kills him. you refuse to open up to him and he respects your boundaries. he just can’t keep begging you to let him in. he can’t do this forever.
he’s not mad that you’re closed off, that you’re a loner and you’re introverted. he accepts you for what you are. he loves you regardless, but can’t you see this hurts him? can’t you at least make an attempt to make him feel better? pushing him away only hurts him, and why did you agree to a relationship if you knew that all you were going to do is hurt him?
he supposes you warned him. that beautiful night that he convinced you to let him stay in your heart. he looks back at that moment, how you looked close to tears, pushing him back, telling him that you’ll ruin him and anything else you touch, and all he could think about is how badly he wanted to kiss you, to hold you close and wipe away the tears of frustration. he’s fond of that moment, when you decided to stay with him. when you said you’d take your time, move slowly, but you’d eventually let him in. he just had to be patient.
but its been months, and leon hates being wrong, but he might have been that night.
–
leon’s always seen the good in you. he admires how gentle and sweet you are. you say it’s just a facade, and you know what? he doesn’t believe you. he knows you’re trying to protect yourself, but you’re lying. the version of you that you think is the real you is actually the facade. he knows it. he believes it, believes in you.
“i will begin to despise you if i let you in, you realize that, right?” you said to him that night, and he just shook his head, smiling. he adores you, almost amused at how you were making yourself out to be an awful monster in hopes he’d have understood that he could never fix you.
“and i will adore every moment of your resentment,” he said, and then followed it up with a whisper, under his breath, one you might not have heard, “i will let you ruin me.”
your touch is lethal, that much he’s certain of. he knows you’re not trying to hurt him, he’s convinced it's not in your nature to be intentionally cruel, “i won’t get better. i won’t change for you. this is what you’re stuck with.”
but what was he supposed to do? listen to you? heed your warning? he’s too foolish, too lovesick.
“it’s okay,” he reassures, reciprocating your harsh touch with his gentle one, fingertips making acquaintances with the way your skin feels in his grasp, the warmth of your touch. he’s starting to feel like this beautiful monster in front of him is a lot more human than she feels, “i like you as you are.”
-
leon doesn’t quite remember when you got so overbearingly possessive. maybe you were a little controlling, a little too demanding. it didn’t really make sense because anytime he tried to be possessive over you, you hated it. you certainly weren’t clingy. leon learned to control the instinct, the one that screamed in his head that you were his. he gets it. you’re independent, not exactly into the jealous boyfriend type, sure. it only hurts his ego a little bit.
he doesn’t really even remember when your behavior started going downhill. it was just like.. one day, he woke up, and you had left. not actually, you were just outside, but it feels symbolic somehow. he calls your name, and you don’t answer. he takes a couple steps closer, but he gets this eerie feeling he’s stepping into dangerous territory. he wonders if he should turn back, give you some time and let your soul come back to your body.
“i don’t love you,” you said to him that day.
it shattered him momentarily, but he knew your ways. he was aware of how you act and talk, your bluntness didn’t even surprise him anymore. he learned not to try and fight you on this stuff anymore.
that’s not true.. is what he wanted to say.
“…since when?” is what he actually ended up saying.
you sigh, “i don’t know. i just woke up today and i realized i didn’t love you anymore.”
“do you… feel love for someone else?” he asks, but that’s not what he’s really asking. leon would never believe you if you said you cheated on him. you don’t even like people. you could count on your hand the amount of people you liked to talk to.
leon maintains being one of them, of course. how could he believe that you made a connection with another man when you can only tolerate him?
so, what he’s really asking is ‘do you… feel anything right now?’. sometimes emotions go away. sometimes you find yourself sitting outside in the early morning even though it’s cold and you’re shivering, wondering why you don’t love your boyfriend anymore.
he puts his jacket over your shoulders. that feels symbolic somehow too.
it usually passes, but there’s something so final in your tone. like… for the first time, leon was worried you’re being truthful. he was worried you didn’t love him.
he had every reason to be. you used to pull away and then come right back to him, and now… you almost seem to resent him. crazy, it’s almost like you said this would happen. he hates that he was wrong about you, he hates that you were right.
you flinch away when he touches you sometimes. your words are harsher than usual, more venomous, more lethal. you’re slipping away from him, you’re running away, and he’s begging for you to come back to him. just come back to him.
and even now, he looks at you and you aren’t the girl he fell in love with. but maybe you never changed. maybe he has just been blind.
maybe you were exactly who you said you’d be.
did you even want him? or would you get off anyway on taunting him?
did he mean anything to you?
-
“i am your… sculpture. your muse. i am everything you made me to be,” he says softly, one day during a vicious argument (only one of you is truly venomous), his eyes still red from the tears you made him spill, “if you do not like me, or if you don’t like what i’ve become, it is your own fault. i am only what you… did to me.”
he says pretty words that tug on your heartstrings if only to get some kind of empathy out of you. you’d normally scoff, spitting at him that he was a broken mess before you fixed him up, made him useful to somebody.
“you act like i ruined you. like i made you worse. i did not drag you down with me. we were both broken. both disasters who just wanted to be loved,” you know you’re bullshitting just for pity points. doesn’t change the face that leon almost falters. almost gives in, lets you win. you were right, in a way. you were just being intentionally oblivious.
“me wanting to be loved was… so much different. i wanted to be cherished and…held dear to you. you wanted a trophy that would make you feel better about yourself.”
“i am not the monster you say i am,” you scowl, finally he sees your harshness, your cruelty, and your dismissiveness in full force. how was he so blind?
“you’re right…” he says, “you… are so much worse.”
“then push me off of you, make me leave,” you groan, pinning him down like a caged animal.
“i’m not… i..” i stutters, looking up the ceiling, “oh my god..”
“i am the only god you get to call out for,” you say as you press kisses to his collarbone, “i hold that power over you. i am your god.”
“i won’t worship you anymore,” he gasps, but his hands reach up to hold your hips, latching onto you for support and intimacy, like you are everything he’s ever needed and he despises you for it, “not what you’ve become. i can’t accept this…. version of you.”
“this is me, leon,” your voice is distant. resigned. he’s given up on you. and you’ve given up on him.
so why do you demand his reverence so desperately? if you didn’t want him to run, why didn’t you treat him right in the first place?
“i love you, you know,” he says, tears pricking at his eyes, “i am just your design, molded to how you wanted me, but you designed me to love you… so that’s what i do.”
“i didn’t ask you to destroy yourself for me.”
“but i did anyway,” he closes his eyes, breathing ragged, “but i did and i did it because i loved you. i did it so that maybe one day you wouldn’t run away from me if i loved you too much. i.. i don’t act overbearing or clingy like i am inside because i am horrified of you leaving me. if i try too hard, if i want you too much, if am too desperate for your company… i will lose you. i can’t live with that.”
“then why do you call me worse than a monster? if you need me so badly?”
“because i.. i wanted you to destroy me and build me anew. recreate me in your image so you could have exactly what you wanted. make me exactly what you wanted!” he’s desperate for you to understand, but you never will. you don’t know desperation like he does, “i.. i just made the naive assumption that you would love your creation more than you loved what i used to be. that somehow.. if i let you ruin me, you’d finally love me.”
“i do love you,” you whisper, voice heavy with a tragedy you are all too familiar with.
“no… you don’t love anyone,” he bites, his teeth grazing his own lip like he would draw his own blood, “not even yourself. you’re incapable.”
“then it is your fault..” you say, cruelty laced into your voice, but how could you not be cruel when leon’s finally biting back? “you did this to yourself. you ruined yourself for someone you knew couldn’t love you.”
he feels broken. betrayed. how is this his fault? how could you hate him so intensely? how could you want him to suffer? do you enjoy watching him suffer? is that the only way he can make you happy anymore?
is that the only thing you want from him? his suffering? his tears?
does he give that to you? just… as one final way to make you happy? he’d ruin himself again and again to please you if you said so.
he’d give you anything.
you push him down, and he stumbles back onto the bed, looking up at you nervously. he notices the look in your eyes, the look of possession, you see him like an object or a toy. maybe he is. a trophy. you look at him like he’s something that makes you feel proud to carry around. leon kennedy. he’s a survivor, he's a killer, been through literal hell on earth. yet… your hands on him make him feel weak. he feels like he’s 21 again, on that bridge holding onto the last girl that dug her nails into his heart.
“you’re fucking mine,” you growl in his ear, and he gasps and shudders, when did you get so close to him? you can’t put your hands on him like this, you can’t do this, his mind will go numb to the pain you cause and suddenly he’ll be held beneath you, inescapably yours.
“you.. you need to… oh my god..” he was so close to saying it. so, so close. he tries so hard to push you away. to get you off of him. not in a way that he couldn’t stop you if he really didn’t want this. but that's just it; he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want you for his own sake.
you make it so hard to hate you, truly.
“you’re mine,” you growl in his ear, your nails digging into him like claws of a predator into its most delicious prey, “i own you. say that back to me.”
he cries like a baby, hating that he was naive enough to believe that the devil could love him, she could never love him and he could never please her enough to make her stay, “i’m yours, and.. and you own me,” he says, sniffling. he buries his head into the pillow. you push him, hold him down like he’s your captive. he might as well be.
“and that means i own your pretty body, doesn’t it?” you smirk, god this control over him has always been addicting. you.. really own him.
“y-yeah..”
“that means i can do whatever i want with you, doesn’t it? i can break you in every way possible, like a girl scribbling on and cutting the hair of her barbies. you don’t exist outside of me, outside of my pleasure.”
-
“fuck, you’re so hot when you’re sad..” you groan as you press kisses to his hip, and he didn’t even realize you had gotten his shirt off and his pants pulled down. he must have dissociated again. he sighs, upset but unable to will himself up to stop you.
at least you’re trying to please him, he supposes. your hands wandering all over him makes him feel alive, but he wonders if you’re imagining wrapping your hands around his throat and squeezing until he stops moving. maybe you would take a liking to killing.
or maybe it’s just because it’s leon. leon is your weak, pathetic boyfriend that you’ll play with like a ken doll until you’re bored of him, and then you’ll either put him out of his misery or leave him to rot. maybe murder is mercy for him. the worst part is he looks just like a ken doll, blue eyes and blonde hair, except he’s a bit more broken. a bit scarred. damaged. is that why you don’t want him? he’s not perfect enough?
and then it happens.
everything stops, his breath catches in his chest, he flinches almost like he’s surprised you still had it in you, but you kiss him. it’s not possessive and dark and commanding like he expects, like he’s begun to tolerate, but it’s you. it’s your softness, hidden underneath, that gentle lover that he misses so desperately. she’s back. she’s real again.
you rest your forehead against his as you pull away from the kiss, leon chasing your lips briefly before remembering this is your moment, at your pace, but he’s looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky, his eyes sparkling with magic and passion and hope he hasn’t felt in a while.
“come back to me..” he whispers gently, “i miss you.”
“i.. know,” you frown, and leon can tell you feel guilty. you are the monster in his nightmares, but you are also his guardian angel, “i told you, leon-”
“i know you did, i- i don’t want to fight with you right now,” his eyes flutter closed as you press your lips to his forehead, god he feels so cared for in moments like these.
but he knows they’re not real. he knows this version of you isn’t real, that your love is a false pretense and he is a fool for being swept off his feet by such an obvious facade. a monster that loves you is still a monster.
and leon knows it. knows that you love him, despite his insecurities and doubts. maybe it was safer or easier to ponder whether or not you loved him, to listen to you when you said you didn’t, instead of realizing that you did… just not enough.
he feels your grasp on his waist, the way your hands and mouth ravage his body. he knows you’re possessive, but it still shocks him how truly cruel you are.
“please…” he whimpers, “be gentle with me..”
“ah, leon.. survived the apocalypse but can’t handle his girlfriend biting him a little too hard..” you chuckle, and it’s soft and you’re being sweet with him again and everything is okay.
“don’t be like that, come on. it still hurts,” his voice is shaky, making you smile. such a sadist.
“don’t be such a baby,” you tease.
“just- okay, fine, but i don’t want any hickies or bite marks or anything. n-not anywhere visible, at least,” he stumbles when your fingertips drag across his collarbone, “please, baby. i need to hide them, my… my coworkers will get worried.”
he sees it in your eyes. mercy. begging always saved him.
“hmm… open your mouth,” you say, and he’s not even trying to follow the command, but the surprises causes his jaw to drop slightly, and you lean closer, before spitting directly into his mouth.
your saliva tastes like your favorite flavor of gum, and leon smiles as he recollects that fact. it’s sweet of you to only do something like that to him when it wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant. maybe you didn’t think it out that far, but he likes to think you did. he wants to think you were considerate. he groans as he swallows it without even having to ask, almost sounding dehydrated, like you are his lifeline.
your intentions, while a tad bit humiliating, are not cruel. but again, you’re showing possession. leon is yours to do whatever you please with. it’s marking your territory, in a way.
“thank you..” he shudders, hands clutching your arms, keeping you close. he’s not truly grateful, but he’s learned his place.
“you’re welcome,” your tone is condescending, but leon’s thoughts are too far away to realize that. all he knows how to do anymore is be obedient.
a brief silence settles for a moment, as you rest atop of him, gazing at him like a predator does their next meal.
“do you… want to fuck me now?” he asks awkwardly, cringing at how completely uncool he is.
maybe someone else would laugh at his lack of charisma, but you just smile softly.
“is that what you want?”
in truth, he does want this. he does want you. and he prides himself on giving you whatever you want, everything, absolutely anything. it’s too bad all you know how to do is take.
he sighs, feeling heavy-hearted and drained. he can’t pinpoint why, “i love you. do whatever you want.”
you blink, and he wonders for a moment if you feel guilty again, but part of him can tell you’re not.
you narrow your eyes. he seems.. broken down by this point. honestly, ‘broken down’ might not exactly be the right wording. ‘broken in’ might be more appropriate. like a pair of boots that are only comfortable once you rough them up a little.
it’s at that moment that he realizes the softness he saw in you just now is fading away rapidly, replaced again by the monstrous beast that is his darling lover. at least she’s familiar now. it’s his fault. you are exactly who you said you were. he should have believed you.
he thinks this is it, that this is the last time he’ll get to have you before you leave him. you steal all of his sunshine like a parasite, robbing him of all of his life energy and taking it for yourself. the only way you can feel whole anymore is to take leon apart and use him for everything his mortal body and soul has to offer.
he remembers being the light in your life, cheering you up when you were down. you were his moon, and he shined his light onto you like the sunlight gives way to moonlight.
but that isn’t real anymore. you aren’t the damaged but loving person he used to know.
“are you… going to leave after?” he asks. he’s pouting ever so slightly but he doesn’t realize it.
you just gaze at him, eyes soft but knowing, and he can’t help but crying. he tries so hard not to be clingy or ‘too much’. makes himself less and less to make you comfortable.
“please don’t leave me,” he cries, “please, i can’t bear to think about it. my… my love, please..”
part of him feels like if he lets you leave again, you won’t ever come back.
he can’t understand why he’s so desperate for you to stay. he feels your hand around his neck as you lean in close to kiss his shoulder, you don’t squeeze but your presence is known and feared just like you like it, your other hand falling lower and lower until…
leon can’t fathom just how wrong he was about you, about everything in general, but what hurts the most is putting the timeline together. it starts with him realizing he loved you. you realizing you loved him. the gentle, sweet months he got to spend with you. sure, you were unconventional, but he’s not the nuclear family type either.
to him realizing you didn’t love him, actually.
to then realizing that you did love him, but not enough to change for him. that one hurt the most. knowing that you’ll always choose your comfort over him.
and to finally coming to terms with the fact that your love is strong and real but it is rotten, that you and your heart are corrupting him and made something tragic out of him.
he sighs, letting it all happen. he might as well let you have what you want. he feels your hand rubbing against the fabric of his pants over his crotch, teasing him.
he’s almost happy you’re using him one last time for sex. it’ll give him something to distract his mind from the sadness that’s creeping into his heart.
“i think… my boy needs to feel good.. so he can stop thinking sad thoughts..” your free hand pulls his sweats down and feel him up over his boxers, and he hates that he’s getting hard. that he likes this. he likes being taken by the big, bad monster.
he lets you touch him, lets you strip him down both metaphorically and physically, until he’s bare, a blank canvas ready to be ruined. he has literal scars from bites that drew blood, teeth bared into his skin like you’re trying to consume him alive.
maybe you are.
this isn’t intimate sex between two lovers. this is carnage. this is ravaging, taking what is rightfully yours. it may not be violence in its usual form, but you are no less deadly.
you really can’t help yourself when you have the urge to grab his throat, can you? hold his life in your hands, why don’t you?
he wants to make love to you, to hold you close like he used to, fuck you until your mind let go of its need to be in control, to be apathetic and composed and cold and just let you be the soft soul he knows is in there, fucking somewhere in there.
instead of that, he gets something completely different. claiming. ownership. you mark your territory like an violent dog, biting and scratching and ruining him until everyone else in his life got the hint that he wasn’t allowed to play with anyone else.
you’re violently possessive, that’s the only way he can put it. and even now, when he should be kissing you and moaning in your ear about how good you feel around his cock, how perfect you are for him, how he wants to be good for you, exactly what you want in your man, he.. can’t.
all he can do is whine and whimper like an injured puppy.
instead of kissing you, he’s begging for mercy. instead of making love to you, he’s lost in a daze of pain, mixed in with the pleasure of his cock buried inside of you. your teeth fucking hurt when you bite him like a damn vampire. just like the last time you were in a possessive mood, you bite him hard enough to make him bleed.
“i… i love you,” he whimpers after the fact, his voice is shaky like he’s desperate, “i love you but you’re… i don’t like it when you’re like this”
“who do you belong to?” you ask, suddenly.
it feels unrelated, but even though leon’s eyebrows furrow at the question, he responds, like it’s an instinct, or rather more it’s a response he’s gives hundreds of times, “you. it’s.. always gonna be you.”
“… i love you too, you know. sometimes i think you don’t believe me,” rich coming from the ‘i don’t love anybody’ girl, he thinks, “but i do. i’m always gonna love you. you just don’t like the way i love you.”
“because the way you love me is killing me.”
“i’m not a killer. you asked me to let you in. this is the real me, leon. if you don’t like what you see… then don’t look.”
“i do but i-”
“you wish you were the exception to the rule. you want to be the reason i change. honestly, leon? i’ll never get better. and i told you that months ago, but you never listened. you thought you could fix me.”
“you aren’t broken,” he whispers.
“then why do you insist on changing me?”
he scoffs, “that’s rich coming from you.” he knows you’ll get annoyed at him for his sass, but he can’t help it. you’re a violent hypocrite and he adores you, but he can’t ignore the irony of you feeling forced to change.
you tighten your grip on his neck, and he should have told you months ago but he hates being choked. brings up old memories that he’d rather not remember. he doesn’t really know why he lets you do it, why he tolerates it. maybe it’s because you seem so pleased to be in control of his life like that. he can’t afford to piss you off too much. you might like murder a little too much.
“why do you insist on fixing me?” you ask again. loosing up your grip to let him talk.
“i… i never wanted to fix you. i just wanted you to love me. i wanted… to make you happy.”
he lets out the cutest gasp when you finally use your free hand to pull his cock free, not even bothering to pull his boxers down all the way.
“awh, you’re still so soft, baby. do you not want me?” you taunt him, and he quickly tries to reassure you, shaking his head.
“n-no! i do! i want you, just.. just give me a second..” he stutters helplessly, but his voice gives out when you lean down to kiss his hip bone, and then your lips trail down lower and lower, adoring his thighs with the remnants of your lip gloss, “oh god…”
he’s pretty. pretty like a prey animal.
you decide that maybe its not fair to him that he’s almost butt naked and you’re still fully clothed, so you undress too. leon appreciates that you do it to please him.
“i… you’re so fucking pretty,” he whimpers, begging you to kiss him again. can he just pretend like you’re making love? instead of… whatever this is?
his cock isn’t super big, so it’s not hard to fit inside, especially since he’s just barely getting hard. seeing your body was enough to get him going. he likes everything about you. every beauty mark or mole or freckle, every scar and each divot and curve, he adores you.
your smile isn’t appreciative. it is greedy. avaricious. you.. need more of him.
“you feel… so perfect inside of me..” you groan, the grip on his neck tightening as he obediently rocks his hips up to fuck you. his hands grasp at the sheets, white knuckles displaying how tense he feels.
a shaky, almost fearful moan escapes his throat, “please.. please don’t squeeze that hard.”
again, leon doesn’t like being choked.. so many times he’s almost been killed, and yet… you don’t seem to care. you don’t squeeze hard enough to make him pass out, but he’s getting lightheaded, so much so that you’re having to pick up the slack of bouncing on his cock since he’s unable to keep pace. he just lays there helplessly while you steal away his life.
“leon..” you tease, holding in a giggle, and trying to stir his attention, but his eyes get cloudy and he can’t focus on you, can’t look you in the eye meaningfully.
all he can respond with is a half-hearted attempt at a ‘huh?’. it’s honestly kind of cute how easily fucked out he gets. you ease up, and he breathes deeply for the first time in a couple minutes, gasping out ‘thank you’s like you just saved his life instead of almost killing him.
“i’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me, baby,” you murmur, you’re not really sorry. tears fall down his cheeks, and you lean down to lick them up like a dog drinks her water. he cringes, disgusted at the feeling, but you own him so intrinsically.. how could he ever stop you from doing exactly what you wanted to him? this was your world. he just lived in it.
—
leon wakes up the next morning, expecting to be alone in your shared bedroom after you had left. you’re not completely awful, you clean him up and bandage any cuts after you finished with him… and leon realizes he doesn’t exactly remember anything after you choking him a little too aggressive, he must have passed out. did he cum even while unconscious? he’s almost impressed.
he doesn’t remember you leaving, just the looming thought in his mind that you will leave. there was no doubt about it.
you’re not there, clearly, and he doesn’t hear you anywhere in the bathroom or in the kitchen. the silence is deafening.
maybe you’re on a walk to clear your head?
maybe… you’re really gone.
but your stuff is still at home, so he thinks you might still stay. he cant decide if that’s a good thing. sure, he can’t exist without you, so codependent it’s pathetic, but… you’re not exactly good for him. maybe it’d do him some good to pull himself together and get over you. if he even can.
he loves you. helplessly. desperately. but you love his pain more than you love him. that’s the truth and there’s no denying that. you are.. exactly who you said you’d be. it’s his fault for not believing you.
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