#moon.ncdc

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.

he whimpers loudly and pathetically as he cries. i just know he does. he’s crying over something stupid she did that he’ll eventually get over, but if you’re being honest? it would be so easy to take advantage of him.

you start out by pressing very very light kisses to his shoulder over his shirt. he doesn’t even notice, but something about him not noticing makes it even hotter. and then your lips hover on his neck, hot breath on his skin should be something that catches his attention, but it doesn’t. not even when you start to kiss his neck, until you get a little too cocky and your teeth graze against his skin.

“what… what are.. you doing?” he stutters, asking nervously, suddenly realizing that he’s not in the right headspace for this. he’s not completely sober, he’s emotionally distraught, he’s crying and sobbing into your shoulder, ruining your pretty shirt, yet you’re… kissing his neck.

“accident, sorry,” you say quickly, trying to prove your innocence, but your hand on his waist feels anything but innocent. even after you apologize, claim you didn’t mean to, you leave another soft kiss on his neck. this time, you physically feel him and hear the beautiful sound of him whining, as if crying out and begging you to keep going. you know that’s not what means. that doesn’t really matter.

he feels his heart pounding in his chest, “but my-my girlfriend… i don’t… i’m not just going to…”

“you’re not doing anything wrong, she doesn’t have to know,” you whisper as you press your lips to his jaw, hanging slightly open, “you can just let me keep going… i’ll make you feel good when she can’t, when she won’t.”

he feels the need to fight back a little more, say something like she’s my girlfriend and i can’t just do that to her. but he doesn’t feel fully in control of himself either. maybe it was the alcohol he drank earlier from the bar with his cop buddies. maybe it’s the way he didn’t realize your hand is down his pants until you were stroking his cock through them. maybe it’s something else.

maybe he liked you? he didn’t really know. he kinda liked you before he had a girlfriend, but thought you didn’t want him like that. his current girlfriend was someone new, and he just fell for her charms because she was remarkably forward and bold, always touching his leg, running her fingers through his hair, telling him how handsome and attractive he was, etc. leon was helpless in falling for her.

“can i kiss you?” you ask, bringing him out of his thoughts. the question is startling, and it’s a big decision to make.

if he doesn’t let you, he’s scared of what might happen. will you leave him? will you kick him out and leave him no where to run to like the lost puppy he’d be?

if he does let you, what does that make him? a cheater?he didn’t really want to cheat on his girlfriend, but you’re just so… convincing. and he’s not in a state where he’d need a lot do it. what would it make you? the home-wrecker? would his girlfriend hate you for it? would she hate him? should she?

his girlfriend is so passive, yet so demanding. she’ll give nothing and take everything leon has to give, and he keeps giving just to keep her satisfied. leon wonders if you’d be any different.

leon has thought about kissing you before. he’s thought about a lot worse, actually, but tried to pretend he didn’t because you weren’t his and he wasn’t allowed to think about his friend like that. but he has. he imagines your soft lips, sticky with the lip gloss he knows you like to wear. he knows it would taste like strawberries if he could just…

“yeah,” he finally decides, “you can kiss me… please… uhm, kiss me, please.”

you smile softly and nod, acknowledging your victory, before leaning in. it’s everything he thought it would be and more. he tries not to compare you to his girlfriend or her to you, but he can’t help but think you’re a million times better.

he could list off the reasons why he likes kissing you more, but he’d say the main one is how you’re giving and taking with balance, letting him touch your face gently while also resting a hand on the back of his neck. your hand down his sweats releases him and just holds his waist while he holds onto you the same. he doesn’t feel empty as he gives you his all but he doesn’t feel smothered with the intensity he knows is locked inside. he’s looking for the key.

he moans at the taste of your lip gloss, and yes, your lips are just as delicious as he imagined. he can’t bear to let you pull away, holding the collar of your shirt when you try to to keep you in kissing distance. not that you mind, you just didn’t expect leon to be so desperate so fast.

“i’m… i’m not… i’m not a bad person right?” he breathes heavily as he finally lets you pull away, and his moral conscious starts to come back to him, “our argument was so dumb, a-and i… i still couldn’t… maybe we should stop.”

“oh, sweetheart,” you mumble gently, pressing your fingers into the soft skin of his waist, while your free hand traces the lines of his face. he still can’t stop blushing, “you can’t just leave me like this. can’t just kiss me and then expect me to not get addicted, pretty boy.”

well that name was new. he certainly was not called that by his girlfriend, “i don’t.. i can’t do this to her. a kiss was bad enough, but if we… go all the way… i can’t do that.”

your hand on his waist drops down to caress his thigh, moving up closer and closer. whether or not leon admits it and lets you do anything, he’s needy. he’s extremely turned on, his body practically begging you to touch him.

“no, wait, stop, i- i know you- you’re trying to help, and i- i appreciate it! but, please, i can’t do this to her.”

but his body betrays him as he lets out a moan, his voice breaking, and his hand grasps your arm for support. he throws his head back as you finally touch his aching cock, gulping nervously.

“please, i don’t want to hurt her, this is so.. this is wrong. you need to stop, i need to go—”

and that’s when you look up at him, baby blues staring back at you helplessly. he’s begging you to keep going. he’s also begging for you to stop. he’s confused too, if it helps. you narrow your eyes at him, “and go where? you already betrayed your girlfriend by making out with me and letting me touch your cute n pretty cock, baby. you can’t go back to her.”

and when he opens his mouth to defend himself, you stick your index and middle finger into it instead, “suck, baby,” you murmur to him, and he moans as he complies. for someone so resistant and not giving in to what he knows he wants, he’s oddly obedient.

“she doesn’t want you anymore, now that you’ve cheated on her,” you say like it’s a simple fact. like that the grass is green and the sky is blue, “you’re just a pretty little toy now, aren’t you?

he’s breathing raggedly as your soft touches become full strokes. his body is tense as he shakes his head, “no, fuck, please, i-i know we’re friends but this isn’t okay, please…”

“shhh, don’t cry, sweet boy,” you whisper as you notice the tears in his eyes. you lean in to kiss him, suddenly less soft and sweet like strawberries, but now his sobs feel visceral as he moans in your mouth, his ragged breaths cutting of the kiss before you pull him tighter to keep it going.

when you pull away, he looks soft, vulnerable, dazed.

“fuck, leon..” you mumble, pressing kisses to his shoulder, “if you keep looking at me like that, i’ll have no choice to do this to you every day, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

he stutters, briefly imagining a reality where he spent all his days being kissed and touched and loved by you. he doesn’t hate it, “n-no! i… i mean kind of, yes, i don’t.. i like it, it’s just… i’m with her, i can’t.. i can’t be doing this with you.”

his insistence of putting up this wall between the two of you is getting tiring, so you up your game. you lean in to press soft kisses to his neck, enjoying his heavy breaths and the little sounds that escape his throat when your lips are on him.

“please don’t, i… my girlfriend is—” his voice sounds strained, like he’s using all of his effort to keep himself contained and controlled.

anyway hmm a concept that’s been floating around in my head is like. reader being really, really evil. like the whole re squad is up against this really evil person, chris, jill, claire, rebecca, leon, we got the whole like di group up trying to defeat the reader before they enact their master plan.

just gone problem with that. they’ve taken a liking to one of the people who’s trying to take them down. he’s tall but not too tall, muscular but not too bulky, exactly how you like them. dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, he’s pretty. anyone could tell. and so when you fight this group (and win hehe) you let his friends get away or something like that but you take leon and hold him separately, keeping him much more comfortable than his poor friends who are trying to plan the rescue op of their friend.

you sit him in front of a computer screen in a dark room and, even though he tries to fight it intensely, you brainwash him over and over and over again until he just… just gives up. no more fighting, no more cursing your existence under his breath, his soul just breaks and he gives up trying to fight back.

he looks empty, like a shell of himself. and that’s saying something, because he already looks worn down. anyway, he’s taken back to you, finally so mentally broken that he doesn’t try to push you away or do anything really when you kiss him. it stuns him, sure, but he’s too mentally weak to fight.