damianabsinthe - Tumblr blog

[damianabsinthe]

I posted my fic on ao3!

It’s a one-shot smut fic about two people that can’t let themselves be happy. Also, Leon has a big dick.

What happened when you got way too drunk and begged him to fuck you?

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter Seven- End

18+

This will probably be the last chapter of the story, but let me know if you'd like to see any more in the future.

Chapter tags: the fear of being known

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The shame of wanting to be alone enveloped me as I leaned against the rail. He was still in the bathroom-likely cleaning up. I could feel his cum seeping into my underwear. I don’t usually let my partners cum in me- but it’s Leon, we might have just started fucking but we’ve known each other for years. I take a drag of my cigarette. I need time to think about our future, about what to do next. Would he even want to continue this? Or was this a one-off thing, did he feel bad for me? His words imply a level of feeling I hadn’t known before, but none pointing to romance. We are just really good friends. I wince as I move and a fresh gush comes out from between my legs. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, but it reminds me too much of what happened. We are now very good friends. My heart flutters.

My emotions feel overwhelming, I don’t know where to put my other hand, or think anything right now, not while knowing he’s about to come back. I wonder if he would come back, or if he’d sit alone on that sofa, with a glass of whiskey in hand. Like I imagine him doing last night. Except this time, he wouldn’t be touching himself, because he’d have touched me instead.

He comes out. For a moment, all feels right in the world. He’s back by my side.

“How are you doing out here?” He says. I nod in lieu of an answer. “Listen, I- I can tell something’s wrong. Please tell me what it is.” I’m shocked. Months of not knowing I’m into him, and now seeing me as plain as day? Although, Leon always saw me- could find the way within the darkest part of the labyrinth that is my brain. But I could only find the parts of his he chooses to divulge. He doesn’t share much. I can’t find out much. I wish I could reciprocate the feeling of being understood.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I say, turning my face away from him. I smoked my cigarette, looking out at the overcast day.

“Hm,” he says, coming to rest his forearms against the balcony railing. “Liar.”

“Alright, fine. I guess I’m not the type to do this.” He frowned. Did I offend him?

“Do what? Sex? You seemed pretty sure earlier.”

“And it was nice,” I wave a hand, hoping not to offend him. “I guess I just can’t believe it actually happened.”

“I feel a similar way.” He says. “It’s funny, I never imagined you’d actually go for me. I mean, I hoped you would, but realistically? I just don’t seem like someone you’d be into.”

“And why not?” I ask.

“I don’t know, you just seem like you should be with someone more… present. More there for you.”

“You are both of those things for me.” I say. He stares at me.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can just ask, no need for the preamble.”

“When we slept together… what did it mean for you?” He looked at me, searching me. I swallowed. How much should I say? I opted for the truth.

“Listen, Leon… you are my best friend. I don’t want to lose you. I want to… touch you, and hold you, and wake up with you.” His eyes drifted to the side, clearly remembering how he left last night. “But I can’t… I don’t know how to do relationships. I don’t know if I can give you anything of value.”

“You are of value. Just being here, with me, is of value. We don’t have to do anything big, just…dinner, maybe?” He implores. I look at him and nod. He smiles warmly. I still feel apprehensive, as if something is going to go wrong. I don’t want romance to ruin what we have. I don’t know if I’m making the right decision, but life is only so long. I want to fill mine with him. I want to know the way he feels before I die. And I want him to know how it feels to be loved by me. Even if it hurts.

         I breathe in my cigarette. The smoke blows into the wind and mixes with the fog. I look over at him, beautiful in the low light. I smile back.

“Yeah, let’s go to dinner.”

[damianabsinthe]

Preview

The sound of screaming rang through Leon's mind. So did JD, so did everyone else he lost along the way. As much as he could drink away his sorrows, they never fully left him. He was about seven shots deep when the sadness overtook him, the heavy ache in his chest and the hopeless fear of being back in action. His hand ached from the handshake he gave to a dying man, another friend made in the same battle that destroys them. 

Leon deserved a break among the bio-organic weapons threatening to break apart the world at the seams. He needed a break from being called in hungover, from being put in death’s way. If he died on his next mission, he deserved a moment of peace beforehand. 

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter Six

18+ Chapter! MDNI

If you're just here for the smut, I recommend reading chapter five first

Or, start from the beginning here

Chapter tags: Explicit Sexual content!! Fucking while pining, creampie, overstimulation,

Words: 2,918

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Leon was enjoying his time with your pussy. It tasted amazing- like your natural scent, mixed with soap and sweat. He licked the salt off your skin like a dying man marooned in the ocean. He desperately wanted you to ride his face- another time, maybe. Today was about proving to you that he was good enough to be a worthwhile partner. That you could go to bed sated each night from his touch alone. 

            He ate you out passionately, using every single skill he had to get you off. There was no scenario he would let happen where you finished the night unsatisfied. Where you finish the night being disappointed. Maybe even regretful. He couldn’t let that happen. You gave him the gift of being a fuck buddy, and he would return the favor by making love. 

            You moaned excitedly, seemingly happy about what he was doing. He quickly found a rhythm you liked, judging by your noises. He repeated the motions with his tongue, before inching two fingers into your pussy. He curled them while licking your clit, creating a spark of pleasure that flew through you. 

“Oh my god, Leon, I’m going to…” You trailed off. He kept at the same speed and intensity as waves passed through you. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, while he worked them into you, riding you through your orgasm. As soon as you stopped moving, he pulled them out of you. He gives you a few moments to catch your breath.

”That… that was wonderful.” You breathe, boneless. 

”Who says it’s over yet? We’ve only just begun.” he chuckled. Your eyes widened before he went down to kiss you again, with more passion than before. Last time, he had forgotten his place and kissed you with his feelings- the tender ones. He couldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t take this any further than you wanted. He put his hand on your wet cunt, feeling the remnants of your orgasm. 

“What a beautiful pussy,” He breathed hard through kissing you. “Would love to feel myself in it.” You twitched. He grabbed your hand and put it between his still-clothed legs so you could feel his length. “You feel that, baby? All for you. I’m so excited to give you this.” You nodded. Oh, he was going to fuck you within an inch of your life. One orgasm from you wasn’t enough- he was desperate for as many as he could wrangle out of you. He was going to touch you so deeply that you’d think of him whenever you sit down. He wanted to be so close to you that you would never part. 

            The way your body looked underneath him filled him with anticipation. You looked perfect, exactly where you should be: about to be stuffed by his cock. He had spent many lonely nights jerking off to the idea- now that he had you, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed of how lackluster his fantasies were compared to the real thing. 

            You blush and look away as he’s staring at you. He didn’t mean to, but found himself dumbfounded at his luck. He quickly goes in for another kiss- it might be too many for this situation, but he reasoned that life is short and you didn’t seem to be complaining. The kiss kept you occupied, and hopefully took your mind off his creepy staring.

            He briefly wonders if you’ll mind his staring later on, after you’re sated. But this was his chance to prove to you that he was a worthwhile lover, that he could give you anything you want. He couldn’t ruin it with anything. 

            Your legs still shook from your previous orgasm as you failed to stay still. Cute. He took a hand and slipped it into the wetness near your entrance, before bringing it up to your clit and rubbing circles on it. You moaned from the overstimulation, a pretty sound that he would use as masturbation fodder for months to come. He dragged a finger through the wetness again, and he saw your breathing pick up. Your usually dead eyes were becoming dumb with pleasure. He wanted to fuck any bit of sorrow from you, leaving you a mess of joy and his cum. 

            You thrust your hips against his, whining for release. He grants it to you, picking up his leisurely pace in favor of fast but still gentle touches. He dips his head down again to tongue at the pudgy clit between your legs. You whimper. You start to kick your legs, and he grabs hold of them with both hands, planting his face deeper into your cunt. You gasp, a sound he would tuck away for later. He kept both hands wrapped around your thighs, spreading them to gain better access.  

 “Please, Leon I’m- it’s so sensitive.” You grit out. But it only spurred him on further. He continued to lick broad strokes between your thighs.

“Shh baby, you can take it, right?” He said.

“I-I can try.” You were so good to him. He was going to show you how good he can make you feel. He lapped at your cunt until you regained your heavy breathing, like before. God, he would do anything to hear those moans again.

“Please,” You murmur. But what you wanted was unclear- he assumed it was to cum. “You’re going to feel so good in a moment. Please cum for me again.” He ordered through gritted teeth, voice coming out hoarse.

“I- oh my god,” You moan brokenly. And this was his favorite sight- his best friend, laying drunk from pleasure. You arched your back into his mouth, and he knew you were getting close.

“Please,” You moan again.

“You taste so good” He groans out, voice muffled by your pussy.

“You taste so good” He groans out, voice muffled by your pussy. You twitched around his tongue. He wanted to feel his fingers in your warm wet heat. Feel it clenching down on him as he fingerfucked you. He cautiously slipped a single digit inside, and was rewarded by a harsh moan. He moved his fingers to re-find your sweet spot, and curled them, starting shallow and getting rougher as your breathing picked up.

“Please- I- I’m going to come.” You breathed out. He almost didn’t hear you over the sound of your wet pussy directly on his face. But he wouldn’t have missed your voice for the world. He continued his pace at the same rate, hoping to get you there faster. As much as he loved the taste of you, he was eager to feel you on his cock. The thought sent a rush of pleasure down his spine, causing his dick to sit even heavier between his legs. Within a few moments, you were spasming again. He kept curling his fingers inside of you, wringing every bit of pleasure out of you. Your legs tensed, and then your entire body went boneless.

            You laid on the sheets below him, breath heavy as you panted through your aftershocks. And oh, you looked so good beneath him. You were the perfect person for him, so gorgeous looking spent. He gave you a moment to catch your breath.

“Can I… return the favor?” You ask, as if he wasn’t trying to fuck you raw. You tentatively reached out and palmed his dick through his sweatpants. And he moaned, an embarrassingly loud sound. He flushed. But you merely smiled mischievously and drifted your fingers down his entire length.

“God, that feels so good, baby.” He moaned. He pulled your hand away from his dick. “But how about I fuck you instead, huh? So I can feel your pussy around this dick?” It was an ask, a request you could easily refuse. He would understand if you were spent from your previous orgasms. But you merely nodded.

“Give- Give me a second.” you muttered. And you tried to control your breathing, pushing it back to its normal steady pace. He smiled at how cute your attempts to control yourself were. He was going to fuck it out of you. “Okay,” you said. “Give it to me.” And the rush of pleasure he got from those words was heady. It had been a long time since he had been laid- a few weeks. And despite how often he jerked off, it was a lot to finally feel himself inside of someone again. Especially you.

He begins to pull down his pants.

“Take- this this off too.” You ask, gripping at his shirt. He lets you pull it up over him, almost forgetting the thrill of being undressed by another person. “Hell yeah.” You look at him, eyes running down his bare torso, lingering along the scars. Did you just say hell yeah?

“Come on, everything off.” You say, slightly more demanding this time, voice not losing its teasing edge. He nodded and stood up, fully taking off his pants. You smile approvingly and hum. Then you open your arms. He goes to them, pinning you to the bed and kissing you fiercely. Now naked, he could feel your skin burning his.

Leon lined his tip up with your entrance, groaning slightly at the feel of the opening of your walls against his dick. He used his dick to stroke your clit, before lining it up once again. 

“Is this okay?” He asked. You nodded your consent. He wanted to check in on you- two orgasms and a third coming would be a lot for anyone. But you were tough, and so, so wet. You whined as he started to pull himself into you. 

“God, you’re so deep.” You moaned, walls clenching around his cock. He chuckled.

“I’m not even all the way in.” You merely moaned in response, hands gripping the sheets.

“Baby,” he cooed, “Can you take it?” You nodded again. Satisfaction bloomed in his chest.

“Please,” You arched your back, giving him a different angle. “I want it.” And of course he gave it to you, inching himself slowly inside. He was soon buried to the hilt, bodies pressed flush together.

“Oh my god,” He swallowed your moan with his mouth. You broke the kiss. “Please move.” And he did. He slowly brought himself out of you, thrusting softly back in all the way, fucking you deeply, coming out halfway and burying himself to the hilt again. He idly wondered if it was hurting you, if it was too much to take. He’d have other partners say he hurt- but others liked it. He wondered which you would be.

“Do... do I hurt?” he mumbled, voice shaking.

“No, no... feels good.” You sigh. “You’re so deep.” And that sent him reeling. He was doing a good job. He was made for you. He was going to fit inside of you in every way possible. You moaned.

“Hmm this pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?” He said, keeping his voice near your ear. You merely nodded. But he wanted to hear you. So he picked up the pace, drilling deeper. He was rewarded by your moans getting heavier.

“I’m still- so sensitive from before.” You mumble. “It feels- it feels- oh my god.” You pulled an arm from gripping the sheets and wrapped it around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He kissed your openmouthed lips, drinking in your moans as he fucked you.

“You’re going so fast,” you mumbled. He slowed his hips. “No, no, no, it feels good, go faster.” And he did.

            He didn’t think it was possible to be this deep in you, to be so close. He had been thinking of all the positions he’d want you in, but his favorite had always been close to him, so he can hear your moans in his ear, and feel your skin as it grips him. Your other arm is still clenching the sheets with a vice grip as he pounded into you. He lifts it off the sheet without losing rhythm and placed it on his shoulder. You gripped his skin tightly, exactly as he wanted you to.

            He pounded you into the mattress with wild abandon, letting his instincts take over. Your fingernails scraped into his back, desperate to hold but unable to keep still. Your usually cold skin was flushed and hot, sticking to his. The wet sounds of skin smacking together spurred him on, the room filling with the obscene sound. Your pussy clenched around him.

“Are you getting close, baby?” He murmured; voice unsteady from the pleasure. You nodded.

“Come for me, please. Come on this cock. I want to know what you feel like when you’re milking this dick.” His words sent you over the edge, and you groaned his name long and hard, as if he had been an angel. You once again tensed every muscle, before becoming limp. He kept thrusting through it, trying to wring out every last bit of pleasure for both his sake and yours. You went silent for a moment, before picking up your moaning again. You squealed as he lifted up your leg, pounding from a deeper angle. 

“M’getting close baby.” He muttered. “Just a little longer, god you feel so fucking good” He choked out his words. “Where do you want me?” 

“Inside.” You moaned weakly. And oh, god, your words felt so good. 

            He came with a groan, burying himself deep inside of you. He thrust a few times through it before going still. He fell on you, trying not to crush you with his full weight. But he would love to feel yours on him sometime, fuck, he’s down bad. He rolled off you and onto his back, breathing heavily. You panted across from him. The two of you laid in silence for a few moments before you broke it.

“That was... that was so good.” You say, your voice was uneven, breathless. It sounded gorgeous. You sounded perfect when you were fucked out. He smirked.

“Happy to help.” He said, and then cursed himself for not thinking of a cooler line. He thought for a moment. His brain was fucked out too. Okay, you came- three times, a fact he was proud of. And then he fucked you, and came, inside, you begged for it inside. He wasn’t as young as he used to be anymore, and doubted he could get it up again to continue this. But he still wanted to feel you- to taste you. So, he kissed you, again. You reciprocated, albeit lazily. He lowered his mouth to your neck, and began sucking on it, hoping to leave a mark. His hand came up to lazily trail a thumb around your nipple, and you twitched. You audibly moan in protest.

‘Shh, I know, it’s sensitive. I won’t make you go again.” He murmurs. As much as he would like to keep you here, with him, he doubted you were able to keep up. Nor could he, probably.

            His brain lit up. Aftercare, it said. It was the last step in the sex mission, how could he forget it? He pulled away from you, sensing you were getting out of breath.

“M’gonna clean you up.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.  

“I hope you mean with a cloth.” You say. He chuckles.

“Just for today.” He says, trying not to let his mind wander. Then he sits up and gets out of bed, groaning at the cold floor. He walks naked through the hall to the bathroom, leaving you in his bed. He smiles at the thought of you there, waiting.

            He runs a washcloth under the sink in warm water before walking back. You look almost asleep as he’s coming back. He sits on the bed, and you open your eyes.

“I got a washcloth,” he says dumbly. You nod at him and go to take it. He pulls it back. “No, let me.” You lower your arm and rest it back on his bed. He opens your legs and gingerly presses the washcloth between them. His cum is spilling out of you onto the bed, and your cunt is still wet from your combined fluids. He folds the washcloth and wipes it through your inner thighs. He leans down to press a brief kiss to the top of your folded knee. You shiver. He was trying to be gentle but could tell you were still sensitive. You handled it like a champ. He smiled. He stood back up, hanging the soiled washcloth over the side of his laundry bin.

            You lay there for a moment, breathing, gloriously naked and sprawled across his bed. Then you were sitting up. He watched in horror as you grabbed your shirt and started looking for your underwear.  Just as you were shaking your leg into your black pants he spoke.

“Where are you going?” Did you want to leave? Was it that bad? Did you regret it? But you merely smiled at him.

“I really need a cigarette after this.” You reply. He exhaled. “Come with me?” You offer.

“Uh-yeah.” He says. As tired as he was from sleepless nights and recently coming inside you, he wanted more of your company. If you wanted a cigarette after sex, he’d follow you. He starts to pull on his own clothes, opting to go shirtless. He took out a fresh pair of underwear. “I’ll meet you outside.” He speaks. You nod and continue walking out to the balcony.

[damianabsinthe]

Now that I’ve finished psychic sobriety, I’m looking for something to write next. Does anyone have anything they want to see?

I’m thinking of rum n coke continuations, and Leon pathetically masturbating to pay per view. but I’m SO open to suggestions. I want to write things people will actually like.

Im not a fluffy person but i def want to broaden my horizons and write something nicer. Unless yall want depraved shit.

Psychic sobriety is probably the least disturbing story I’ve written, and it was fun to write. I’ve never written an x reader before but I think it turned out okay? Hopefully. I’m going to put links to the other chapters in each post, so stay tuned for easier navigation.

And thank you to everyone reading my story, more is coming!

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic sobriety playlist (have a sad cum bb is for a very specific chapter)

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety- Chapter Five

Newest Chapter! 18+

This one is fairly short, but the next will be 2,814 words. We're getting so close to the smut. Let me know if you have constructive criticism or ideas for future fics, I finished this one and I have a few more in my head. I'll be posting this to Ao3 in a few days once I post it on here, and finally finish editing it.

chapter tags: sexual content, undressing

words: 1,003

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He was kissing me sweetly. After practically begging for his dick, he was finally walking across the table with a dark, hungry look in his eyes. He took my arm and led me to my feet, only for my balance to be thrown off by his body pressing into mine. My knees buckled. For a moment, he was the only thing keeping me upright. I re-balance myself, only to be knocked off course by the furiousness of his kiss. It had changed from the sweet, longing kiss into something much more primal. He was kissing me like he was going to devour me. If there was any doubt in my mind that he wanted me, it was put to rest now. 

“Are you ready for what I want to do to you?” He asks. I nod, because of course I am. I would let him do anything to me. Spit in my mouth, fuck me senseless, anything. He chuckles, a low and deep sound that reverberates in my body, sending a slight wave of nervousness down me. But any bit of trepidation I held was vanquished by the throbbing ache in my clit. Of course I’m ready. 

He picks me up as if I weigh nothing to him, and I probably did. He held me bridal style, like the night he saved me from the car. But unlike the last time, one hand was on my ass and the other held onto my chest. He was feeling me, I realized. He doesn’t want to take his hands off me now. He carried down the hall and back into his bedroom, where I had woken up an hour earlier. He stood before the bed, unmoving. He bent down and kissed me once more, hard, while I was still in arms. I leaned into the kiss. It was over too quickly- and he was tossing me onto the bed, his own body following after. My tumble to the bed knocked the wind out of me, and before I could catch my breath he was on top of me again, still kissing me. 

“Wanna feel you,” Leon murmured into my ear. “I bet you’re so tight and wet- gonna feel so good on my cock.” His hand came to rest on my stomach. “Look at you,” he purred, “So pretty.” He tweaked my nipple. My breath hitched. “You like that?” I nodded. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” And he gave me a smile I could only describe as feral. All teeth. Before I could respond, he leaned head down and kissed me. A real kiss this time, proper. But it wasn't what I was expecting- not from his promises of what he would do to me- this was gentle. He kissed me slowly, sweetly, as if he had been waiting to do this. As if he knew I was craving love. But I also didn’t know how to receive it.

            We came up for air, a string of saliva connecting our mouths. He immediately went again to my neck, kissing it passionately. I moaned. Every lick of his tongue went straight to my clit. He kissed his way down my sternum, leaving me shivering in anticipation. He came to my nipple and sucked, my moan reverberating off the wall. I stifled it halfway through, in embarrassment over how much he affected me.

“No, baby,” He cooed, “Wanna hear you, let me know how much you appreciate this.” He went to my other nipple and nibbled on it softly with his teeth. As one of his teeth lightly scraped my nipple, I whimpered. He pulled off and blew cold air over it.

“Please,” I asked, voice slurring.

“Now how could I deny you, when you asked so nicely?” He grinned, kissing my neck. “Though, I think you could lose the clothes.” He tugged on the T-shirt- his shirt- that I was wearing. He pulled the hem and began to lift it up. I held up my arms, and he slipped it off me quickly, hardly able to contain himself from the excitement. I found it so cute, his thinly veiled enthusiasm. I wondered if that enthusiasm would become more apparent later, if he would become more wrecked as the night went on. 

            He looped his fingers around the top of my sweatpants and rubbed circles with his thumbs on the sides of my hips.

“Hips up, sweetheart.” He said. It wasn’t uncommon for him to let slip a sweetheart or dear in our softer moments, like when we’re cuddling on the couch together after I’ve had too many and lay my head on his shoulder. But now, the context has changed, and it’s leaving me dizzy.

            I obey his orders, and he takes off my pants in one swift move. I’m almost completely naked now, save for the thin scrap of fabric between my legs. He took a moment to scan his eyes up and down my body. I looked away, embarrassed at his intense gaze. 

 He went lower, making eye contact with my underwear. 

“My lovely,” He said, “Is this all for me?” He spoke with a teasing tone, full of thinly veiled excitement. 

“I don’t see anyone else here,” I quipped. 

“Hm, you can still talk, I’m clearly not doing a very good job here, am I?” he murmured. He kissed the damp patch on my underwear. I shivered. He began to tongue my folds beneath the thin cotton. 

“Oh my god, Leon…” I moan. He chuckles, removing my underwear and slinging them to the corner of the room as if they offend him. 

“I am the god here, aren’t I? Say my name again.” He takes a finger and presses it into my dripping cunt. I brokenly moan his name. “That’s it, sweetheart, being so good for me…” He lowers his mouth and places it on my clit, pressing his tongue to the bundle of nerves. He makes out with my cunt as if he loved it. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Preview for next chapter:

Meanwhile, Leon was enjoying his time with your pussy. It tasted amazing- like your natural scent, mixed with soap and sweat. He licked the salt off your skin like a dying man marooned in the ocean. He desperately wanted you to ride his face- another time, maybe. Today was about proving to you that he was good enough to be a worthwhile partner. That you could go to bed sated each night from his touch alone. That you could love him.

[damianabsinthe]

About Me

MDNI, TERFS DNI, 18+

My name is Damiana/Damien, I'm a 21 year old, Non-Binary, overthinking, horror whore.

I'm a big Leon Kennedy fan, and will be posting my writing on this blog. Everything will be appropriately tagged so you know what you're getting into.

@dawnisawound -my main blog, it's mostly just reblogs and blowfly girl thoughts. I follow and interact from there.

@mournerbride - my Resident Evil sideblog, where I post horny ramblings about Leon and upcoming fic ideas

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter Four

Here we go!

Words: 2,458

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Sunlight streamed down from the sky and through the windows of the apartment, only to be stopped by Leon’s face. He blinks lazily, in a drunk haze. He rubs his eyes and wonders why he didn’t draw the blinds last night. Oh right, because you were crying. He made you cry. He feels guilty about it, but not as guilty as if he had taken advantage of you while in that state. He tried to be polite- say it sober.

            It wasn’t as hard to say no as he thought. Seeing you there, desperation in your eyes, proclaiming you were desperate to feel something, it made him feel a certain way. Seeing you in distress puts desire to the back of his mind. At the forefront was help. Any other situation, sober and wanting and less… disturbed, he would have pounced on the offer. He wanted you, truly, ideally sober, and clear headed, and well aware of what you want. 

            And what if what you want isn’t romance? Maybe you were attracted to him but didn’t want to date him, but rather just to fuck? Did you want him to fuck the attraction out of your system?

Drunk actions are sober thoughts, his brain said. Leon shook his head to clear it away. Then he heard rustling in the other room. You had woken up, and made your way down the hall and into the kitchen. He sat up slightly straighter in his chair. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He greeted. You gave a halfhearted smile. 

“There’s coffee.” He offered.

“Thanks,” you responded, walking over to the counter, and pouring yourself a cup. You sit down across from him in the vacant chair. Of the four chairs, only two are ever in use. You chose which one was your favorite the first day you came over and plopped yourself in it. Whenever he invited guests home, he made sure to keep that chair tucked in. It was yours, after all. No amount of searching could replace you. 

            Not that he didn’t try, of course. Once he kept a relationship going with someone that looked similarly to you, only for a few months. It was good sex, and they didn’t seem to mind that he liked to look at pictures of you on his phone while they did it. The relationship abruptly ended when they saw a photobooth picture of you two together on his wall and connected the dots. He felt like shit for a few months, and stopped going out as often. Nobody deserves to feel like a second choice. 

You sipped your coffee.

“It’s weak.” you complained halfheartedly, no touch of malice in your voice.

“You like things bitter.” He responds.  

“Bitter and with whiskey. Got any?” You ask, as if he didn’t always have a bottle around his house somewhere. Leon stands up and goes to grab it for you. He sets it down and pours a generous amount in your coffee, before pouring an even larger amount in his own. He wasn’t being selfish- he knew your tolerance by now. He didn’t want you getting drunk for this next conversation. But he felt you both needed something to ease the inherent discomfort of your post horny ramblings. 

Leon didn’t sleep last night. He couldn’t- not when you were so close. He was well beyond the years of whiskey putting him to sleep, and knew any morning wood would segue into inappropriate topics. It’s time to put aside how ridiculously horny he was, and talk. 

”I’m sorry.” You say, before he could think of a way to start. “I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.” 

“Which part are you sorry for?” Leon asks, hoping you will say for not saying anything sooner, for being so drunk when I asked for it. You don’t.

”For putting you on the spot, mostly.” You say instead. “And- I don’t want to lose you.” You continue, quieter. 

“You aren’t going to lose me through sex.” He responds.

”Aren’t I?” You ask. He shakes his head.

”Why did you ask? Why now?” He questions, trying to keep his voice light.

”Because… listen, Leon, I’m not great with my words. And I don’t know how to ask for what I want. But I want you.” 

“You have me.” He murmurs.

”You know what I mean… Oh god, this is going awfully. Please tell me what was going through your head.” You blubber. But Leon didn’t play cards like that, didn’t lay them all out on the table where anyone could see them. 

“What was going through my head…” he murmurs. “I like you. I think you’re gorgeous. If you were interested in sex, I wouldn’t turn it down.”

”Unless you had a good reason.” You respond. He nods.

”You were drunk. And sad. It’s not that I don’t want you, or even that I want you a certain way. It’s that I want you to be sure of what you’re doing.” You shake your head and smile.

”Am I ever fully aware? Is there ever a moment where we can understand the extent of our actions? Life can only be understood backwards but lived forward.” He nods in acknowledgement.

”A good start to being aware is to be sober.” He says. You roll your eyes playfully.

”You’re one to talk.” You say, but there is no malice in your voice. You were both drowning in the same waterlogged boat. 

”You’re sober now,” he says, “What do you want?” You looked down at your coffee, taking a small sip, before looking back at him.

”I want you.” A thrill ran down his spine. He thanked the gods of yearning fools. “Here I am, mostly sober, telling my best friend I want him. But what I want most is your reply.” 

“I...” He trailed off. “I want you too. But I want you to be sure. Because… I think you are amazing. You are beautiful, intelligent, and you make me feel like there is light in the world.” You blink. Your gaze was indecipherable. Panic flared in him. Did he lay out too many cards?

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first time you took off your shirt around me.” You say to him. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first night you tip a sip of my drink without asking,” he replied.

“That long?” You ask.

“I could say the same thing about you.” He grumbles. He tries to remember the first time he changed shirts around you. It might have been after you spilled an entire glass of pink whitney on him, or when he was trying to seduce you after realizing your touch was lingering far too long.

“You’re kind of slutty sometimes.” You say, as if you can hear him.

“And you? You were shamelessly flirting with me until suddenly you weren’t, then you no longer want to touch me.” 

“I- I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.” You murmured.

“I was greeting you at the door half naked and you were wondering if I felt the same way?” He asked. You cocked your head to the side- it was a fair point, and you knew it.

“I didn’t want to lose you.” You look into your coffee. He softens.

“I don’t want to lose you either.” He says. 

“So, what are we going to do, then?” You ask, shrugging your shoulders.

“Dinner would be a good start.” Leon takes a sip of his coffee, savoring the warmth. 

“I’d like that.” you smile. 

“I know a good place down by the river.” He suggests. “They make a great steak.” 

“Sounds fun. You’re really okay with this?” You ask. 

“Okay with what?” He asks dumbly.

“Me. The way I started this, the way I kicked you out of your own bed last night, the way you can’t look me in the eye.” 

“First of all,” he sighs. “You didn’t kick me out. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Was that because of me?” You ask. He looks at your chin. Not your eyes.

“Yeah,” he says, “But not because I didn’t want you there, it was because- I don’t know, I guess it just hurt to have you too close.” 

“Oh.” You say, looking down. He had hurt your feelings. Damnit. 

“Because I want you so badly.” He said it too quickly. Save it, Leon. “And because when I’m close to you, I just feel this pressing urgency, like I need to do something… it’s not, uh, very relaxing.” 

“I think what you’re describing, Leon,” He loved the way his name sounded in your mouth. “Is sexual frustration.” He laughs humorlessly.

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“You want to fuck me that bad?” you ask innocently. He nods.

“Only if you’re okay with it.” He says.

”Last night doesn’t say I’m okay with it?” You asked. 

“Last night could have said anything. I just wanted to make sure.”

”Sure about what? I think I was pretty clear. Unless it was only the drinking?” You ask.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to be fucked or if you wanted to fuck me specifically.” He mumbles. “And you know I don’t have the heart to fuck a drunk person. Especially you.” 

“Why especially me?” You ask.

”Because…” talking about his feelings was a lot harder than he thought it would be. “Because if I touch you, I want you to know. I want you to want it, and I want you to understand.” 

“And other partners,” you say, a touch of jealousy in your voice, “Were they sober?” 

“They were as drunk as I was.” He replies. “I’ve made a lot of bad decisions, but I’ll be damned if I touch someone without their consent.” 

“That’s the problem, wasn’t it?” You murmur. “The lack of consent that came with drinking.” He nods. 

“When you came onto me... I felt excited. Even though you were drunk, and about to cry. And I feel… awful for that.” How could he not? The love of his life wants to touch him- while drunk and begging to cry. Any other situation and he would have pounced on you immediately. 

“Why feel awful? I might have been drunk but I made the decisions I did.” He shook his head. 

”I’ve been drinking far longer than you. I know your limits, and you were well past them. I just didn’t want you to regret me.” You shake your head.

”Leon,” you say, voice low and serious. “I could never regret you.” 

“How do you know? You don’t know what I’ve done, the things I could do, things I want to do.” He says.

”I know who you are.” You say. “And I know how you treat the people around you. Please don’t cut me out for this.” 

“Cut you out? Is that what you’re worried about?” He asks. You nod. “You mean a lot to me… I wouldn’t. Not for sex. Not for being drunk. The only way you’re leaving is if you want to.” He jokes. Your mouth twitches slightly. 

“You were always leaving,” You say, “For your missions. And I understand that. But when you came back, you were always different.”

”Different how?” He frowned.

”You acted so… closed off. You wouldn’t talk to me, but you’d touch me more.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. The way you decompress is up to you. But this reminded me of it. I don’t want you to close me off again. I don’t know what horrors you were facing but- I don’t want you to face them without me. Metaphorically, I would definitely die if you took me with you.” He nodded.

” I didn’t know I was doing that.” He murmured. Was he really that closed off? Did he really touch you without knowing? 

“It’s okay, Leon.” Your voice saying his name soothed him. “You’re always you.” 

“That’s what I’m worried about.” He replies. 

“Worry after you’ve done something. Not before.” You say. “Although, that’s what I did last night and now we’re here.”

”I’m glad to be here, with you.” He says.

”Thanks, I guess. Can’t help but feel like I made a mess of this.” He shakes his head. 

“We came here exactly as we should have. Heh, to think I was going to bring you flowers and say this right… I couldn’t have. I’m glad to know what you want. I’m glad to have gone on this adventure with you.” 

“The adventure of being awkwardly flirted with.” He nods. 

“I wouldn’t have missed your drunken little plea for the world.” He replies. 

“I think I could have lived without it, honestly.” You huff. “I really should have waited for flowers.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t give you any.” Leon was a coward. “It just means I wasn’t quick enough.” You smiled. There it was. No matter how horrible the moment he always wanted to make you smile, even at his expense. He made a mental note to buy you flowers soon.

“Why haven’t you dated?” You abruptly change the subject. 

“What?” Leon was taken aback. 

“Well, you’ve fucked a lot in the time that I’ve known you. No judgment, of course, it’s okay to be slutty,” Leon frowned. Was this how you saw him? With a feminine pejorative nickname? Although Leon was hesitant to call anyone a slut. If anything, those with high sex drives bring joy wherever they go. He’s dated a few in his lifetime, and he definitely enjoyed them. 

“Slutty?” He interjects. 

“Yanno,” you twirl a hand in the air. “Whorish. In the best possible way, of course.” 

“I-” Leon was not expecting the way his body reacted at you calling him a slut. ”I guess.” He concedes. You nod.

”It’s cute.” You say. “You’re always looking to get yourself off,” Your voice gets lower, quieter. “As if there hasn’t been someone here waiting for you the entire time.” 

“And?” He asks. “If there has? What are they going to do about it?” 

“Whatever you’d like. That’s up to you.” You respond, shrugging your shoulders. 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.” He says. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” 

“Sex?” You ask innocently. He shakes his head.

“Me.” You nod.

“I want you.” You say. And how could he have reacted to that? How could he have heard your explicit consent and done anything other than stand up and walk closer to you?

            Leon was far too close to you. Your sign of reciprocity spurred him on, only allowing his hindbrain to react. He wanted you. He took your hand and pulled. You allowed him to push you to your feet before his lips were on yours. The kiss was full of promise, of what he would do, and of how he feels. 

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter Three

In which the reader has intense feelings, and Leon is the sweetest, most oblivious friend ever. Too bad he doesn't know you're having them.

hypothetical tags for this chapter: nicotine, alcohol cravings, pining, shame, cool rocks.

Words: 1,200

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I was dreaming of warmth. Strong arms pulled around me, until they weren’t. I sleepily chased the heat, landing on a solid surface. He was like a heater, creating the perfect temperature for me, blankets off, Leon on. I rested there until I went back to sleep. My nightmares were perfectly chased away by his figure resting next to me, alive and well. I asked, half awake and terrified of losing him, if we could hold hands. What a childish request. What a request born of insecurity and fear. Also born out of desire, our hands touched and his squeezed mine three times- the universal I love you. It started with a plea for comfort and ended up with me fully asleep on top of him. 

I didn’t feel bad. He had been touching me for months, I decided. It was innocent, hand brushes between passing the bottle back and forth, a hand on my hip to steady me as I stood on a chair, holding my hand when I got too drunk, so we aren’t separated. I decided this was payback for making my heart skip beats and allowing butterflies to fly around in my stomach. I just had a nightmare about him- nothing helped as much as holding him, knowing he was alive and safe and in my arms. 

He kept fidgeting. I wrapped a leg around him, and he stilled. Oh Leon, always so eager to please. I drifted back into deep sleep to the feeling of him around me. He smelled like whiskey and soap. 

My sleep was awoken by a loss of warmth. I wasn’t cold, but in contrast to his body pressed against mine, I could only grieve the absence. I reached an arm out and spread it across the smooth sheet- he wasn’t there. A moan punctuated the heady silence in the apartment. It was masculine, with vaguely concealed desire, and a slight cut off at the end. Leon. I woke up further and waited. I was rewarded for my patience by another moan- he was masturbating. A thick line of desire ran through me. I could go out there and catch him, ask him demurely what are you doing here all alone at such a late hour? As if I hadn’t been envisioning his moans every time I finger myself for the past two years. As if I hadn’t made a fool of myself by coming onto him. Shame runs through me, hot and nauseating. Sobriety doesn’t suit me. 

He makes a jerked, strangled sound, clearly muffled by something. It’s cute how he doesn’t want to wake me. I wished he would wake me up like that, with a hand on my cunt and his mouth in my ear moaning please, I need you so badly. 

I don’t move, and all too soon his moans go away, replaced with a sigh of discontent. He did not come. Which is perfectly fine by me, if he isn’t doing it for himself, I am more than happy to help out. Not that he wants me to. I briefly wondered if he was thinking about me, about how I would feel around him. If the thought of me was so repulsive it turned him off.

There's the sound of his flask opening. I know it by heart. He’s getting drunk again. I came onto him, he rejected me, he left the bed we’re sharing to fail getting off, and now he’s drinking. It stings. I’m a set of waiting arms for him, whenever he chooses me. I want a drink. I wish he had left the backup flask in his room. I think it’s still in the bathroom from when he offered it to me when I locked myself in there. I was having a panic attack and he knocked on the door, all soft voiced, as if I would break if he spoke normally. He asked How are you doing? Can I help? Would you like some vodka? He was sweet when he offered me alcohol. He knew vodka was my favorite, and always kept a flask full for when we went out. He offered it to me then, softly knocking on the door and waiting for me to open it, just enough to touch his fingers as he passed it, but not enough for him to see my crying eyes. I thanked him, and he said don’t worry about it. But I wasn’t thanking him for the alcohol, I was saying thank you for knowing me so well. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for accepting my brokenness as I accept yours. 

            I sat in the bathtub nursing that flask like it was a dying soldier. That day, I was overwhelmed from going outside. The previous time, it was because of a flashback. It’s always something with me. I’m lucky to have someone in my life I haven’t scared off. If I didn’t scare him last night, I doubt I ever would. I remember thinking that day, clothes pressed to cold porcelain, that Leon understood dark moments. I had seen them firsthand. 

            Tonight, I lay in his bed, with the scent of him on his sheets. He smells like a liquor shop. It does nothing to satisfy my cravings. I reach over and quietly take my vape off the bedside table, not wanting to alert him of my wakefulness. I take a hit, savoring the nicotine high as it flooded through me, leaving me tingling. I let out a small cloud of smoke, watching it float in the moonlight. 

            The night feels brighter than usual. It must be a full moon. I can see the dirty laundry basket in the closet, with the sliding door that never closes. I can see his second favorite leather jacket hanging on the chair next to his desk. What he keeps in that second desk, while he has the office room, is beyond me. He always keeps it locked, but even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t look. He keeps the office door closed too, and has never invited me inside. We either sit on the balcony, kitchen, or living room. But I’ve been in his room before- I know the layout. Bed, writing desk, chair, dresser, closet. Blue or army green sheets, no mirrors, nothing folded. I look at the top of his dresser to boredly take inventory. It has a bottle of whiskey, a motorcycle helmet, and a cool rock I gave him about a year ago. All practical things, no decorations. Minus the rock, which is sick as hell.

            I know firsthand how soft his leather jacket is. I’ve felt it on him, gripping his arms as I run home after a particularly fun night. He offered it to me once- and I protested, but he was already taking it off and draping it over my arms. It was still warm. I wonder how many others have felt the jacket, how many have run their hands over his arms before they take it off, how many has he offered it to in the cold? How many nameless people know this jacket in a more intimate setting than me?

            My jealousy is bottomless, and my yearning is painful. I change positions to get it out of my head. I face the wall, seeing the small cracks in the veneer of the expensive yet small apartment. I close my eyes again. Morning has not yet come. 

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter Two

            18+

This is the latest chapter of my fic! It features sexually frustrated Leon, and you two drinking together. There's about 10k words in this fic so far, so I'm posting these when I go back to edit.

Tags for this chapter: drinking, cigarettes, angst, pining,

word count: 2,484

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Leon couldn’t sleep. He was too close to you, could smell you too clearly. You smelled like the earth, like musk, too much like yourself for his heart to stop beating erratically. He was fine until you decided to curl closer to him in your sleep, blissfully unaware of his predicament. He felt much younger, in the most uncomfortable way possible. 

            When he was younger, he didn't understand how the world could be so unfair. His naïveté cost him, but it died as much like his joy after racoon city. He couldn’t save everyone. The deaths weighed him down so surely that he knew they would never go away. But they are accompanied by goodness whenever you are near. You made him feel happy, made him forget his regrets. 

            One thing he could not forget was the current pressing need to touch. But you were so skittish- almost repulsed by his touch. This was not how he wanted you to spend the night in his bed. He wanted you satisfied and sleepy from making love to you- no. Give up on that thought.

            Leon was not the casual sex type in his youth. He got too attached too quickly.  But now he looked for you in the backs of other people. He wanted your body, your hair, your smell. No one else was you. So, he fucked strangers- in the dark, from behind, imagining they were you. And now here you are, in his bed, both in the dark and on your stomach. It gave him a good view of the slope of your ass. Damnit.

            You shifted slightly closer to him. Leon prayed to the god he gave up on. It wasn't the first time he had slept next to you, long nights passing a bottle between the two of you will do that. But tonight was different, your demeanor changed. You got sloppy well before him. You kissed him before he knew what was happening. Then you begged him to take you- to make you cry. It was a lot to take in. The dynamic had suddenly shifted without warning. He wanted to bring you flowers, take you to dinner, and officially ask you to be his. And you would either say yes or no, but at least he would know. 

One thing he knew- he would save this friendship. Even if you didn’t mean it. Because you must not have. You wanted to be loved. But he didn’t want anyone else to love you like he did- he didn’t want anyone else touching you. He wanted every part of you, to have and to hold- no. 

He quieted his mind and paid attention to your breathing- sturdier than your waking breaths, with a jagged undertone. You smelled different when asleep. Were you having a nightmare? Your breaths became ragged, sweat collected on your brow. He nervously put a hand on your arm, the part covered by his shirt. God, the way you looked in his shirt, the way your smells blended... No. You are in trouble. No time to admire you. He gently shakes your arm. You stir quickly, waking with a panicked breath. 

“Are you okay?” Leon asks.

“Fuck.” You say, in lieu of an answer.

“Not tonight, dear.” He smirks at you. You merely look at him. You look uncomfortable, put on the spot. Leon regretted waking you up until you asked your question. 

“Can- Can we hold hands again?” Your voice sounded so small. And despite his better judgment, he allowed your hand to press into his. He didn’t need sleep anyway. Your hand felt perfect in his. Like they were meant to go together.

“What was your dream about?” He asked.

“Nothing good. Thanks for waking me.” You responded. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Leon said, voice soft. 

“It wasn’t the type of dream I’d like to relive. You were dead.” Leon was no stranger to losing people in his dreams. The amount of times he had woken up with the urge to call you, hold you, make sure you were alive, likely outnumbered yours. But you’ve been through hell in your own right. 

”I’m here.” He said dumbly. “And I’m not going anywhere. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the service.”

”You’ll stay here?” You ask, eyes wide, “With me?” He nods. He desperately wants to stay close to you. You had been the air bubbles escaping his mouth to show which way is up, which way to swim in an ocean of sadness, how to drown while holding your breath.

”I’m here now, aren’t I?” He asks. “Here, listen to my heartbeat again.” But instead of putting your hand on his chest like he expected, you pulled your entire body over top of his, letting your ear listen to his heartbeat. Leon tried to monitor his heart rate and breathing. You lay over top of him like you belonged there- and you did. He ran a hand over your hair, feeling the softness of the strands, feeling the shape of your head. 

            Your breathing evened out after a few minutes. He wondered how you could be so peaceful with him, with his hands in your hair like this. Don’t you know what these hands have done? 

            Your head was on his chest, leg strewn across his hip, as you rested completely unaware of his predicament. 

            This predicament was the pressing need between his legs. He adjusted you slightly so your leg wouldn’t make contact with his hip- almost groaning as it backfired on him, and you rubbed a leg directly over his crotch. The friction was a horrible sweetness. You were full of them, your hair was soft, you smelled so good, and you laid over top of him like you trusted him. 

            He desperately tried to suppress the images flashing through his mind- you riding his dick as you moan above him, kissing you goodnight as you lay tangled and naked together, moaning in your ear as you raked your nails down his back. His pulse quickened as he thought about his cock going into your tight, wet hole, made just for him… Fuck. He breathed hard, then stilled, worried about waking you. You merely kept sleeping, oblivious and gorgeous. He imagined his hand going down to his waistband, slipping it in, stroking himself while you lay asleep on top of him. He felt disgusting at the thought of violating you like that. Think, Leon… You’re underneath your best friend, the horniest you’ve been in years, and they have no idea. You can’t touch yourself without waking them up, and you can’t move them because you’re a selfish asshole that wants to memorize the feeling of their skin on yours. He cursed. Telling himself what a creep he is wasn’t helping, if anything it’s making the problem worse. You flexed your hand over his chest, wanting to feel the rise and fall of his breathing, even while asleep. Your hand moved along his nipple, and he whimpered like a bitch.

He had to move you. 

Your hand stilled over his other nipple, breast, his brain supplied unhelpfully. How could you possibly lay closer to him? He should have made a pillow wall. Not that he had enough pillows to make one. But it seemed like the kind of thing you would have done if you hadn’t wanted his closeness last night… fuck. Was he taking advantage of you? Was there a chance you would wake up the next morning regretting the feel of his skin on yours? He cursed again, more determined to switch your position without waking you. You had finally gone back to sleep, quicker than usual for you, and he didn’t want to disturb that. Cautiously, he took your hand and moved it to the side. Then he slid your body closer to your side, and further from him. You were now on your side. His body missed you. He wanted physical closeness with you again.

He sat up, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He looked in the pockets of his sweatpants absentmindedly, before remembering he didn’t want you to take his flask out of it when you were already too drunk. So it was still in his jacket, in the living room. 

He slunk out of the room quietly, hoping you wouldn’t stir further. After closing the door, he breathed a sigh of relief and walked normally out to the living room. He spotted his leather jacket slung over the back of a chair, and rifled through the pockets, forgetting which he stuck the bottle in last night in his drunken haze. After locating it, he twisted the cap off and took a sip of whiskey. It felt buttery smooth in his mouth, a testament to how much he needed it. He was desperate for a drink after his rush of hormones and unpleasantness of having them. He was getting too old for crushes. He needed to fuck you and get it out of his system. But he couldn’t, because how could be content with one time? How could he be happy when you leave him with the taste of yourself on his lips and the cold shock of your absence?

His cock was still hard. No amount of whiskey could give him the limp dick he needed to communicate his feelings to you effectively. He could always show you, get his dick wet from your eager lips or desperate cunt… but talking should come first. Talking should always come before he does. He took another swig of whiskey. It burnt his throat as it filled his stomach with warmth. They say lonely people take hotter showers, to feel the warmth they lose from their solitude. He imagines drinking is the same, you replace the warmth of life with the burn of alcohol. 

Leon’s mouth felt dry, his cock still achingly hard, heartbeat erratic. He needed to touch himself. Would you hear him if you woke up? He knew he had to be quiet. He leaned back on the couch, where you had drunkenly kissed him several hours before. It still smelled a bit like you. He wrapped his hand around his cock beneath his underwear, sighing. He took himself out fully, letting the cold air kiss his cock. He was desperate for you. Your cunt must have been so wet to ask him to fuck you… and he wishes he could have taken care of it. He imagines grabbing your hips instead, saying absolutely, you can have me. All of me. Saying I will make you scream so hard you’ll forget everything but my name. 

He stroked himself harder, imagining a world with your cunt around his throbbing cock, wet and eager to be filled by him. He imagined you moaning his name, bouncing on his cock, taking what you wanted. He let out a stifled moan. He was always a loud one, letting his pleasure be known. But now was not the moment to be seen-or heard- by you. You were asleep just a few hundred feet away. Your mere presence in the building shouldn’t be enough to get him up, but it's happened multiple times before. 

He brought a hand up to his mouth, silencing any further moans from slipping through. His other hand was busy with his cock, mind going through pictures of your body- from behind, from above, watching you bend over, and imagining you sucking his cock. He let out a loud moan, then cursed himself for it. Moaning loudly was not a desirable trait for most male partners to have. He hoped you liked it loud. Not that it should matter what you liked, because if he wakes you up and you come in here, he will never get to know. He imagined you walking in now, all sleepy and curious. Seeing him here working his cock, you say would you like some help? And he would say hey, I've got a job for you, babe. Or- something smoother. Damnit Leon, he thought, be cool.

“You look like you need a hand,” you say, licking your lips.

“Hey dollface,” Leon replies, smooth as a whistle. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” You shake your head. Then you look at his dick and come closer.

“Mind if I join in?” You ask. Leon nods. You come over and sit between his knees, mouth open and waiting. He feeds his cock into your mouth- no, you kiss the tip of his cock before asking:

“May I?” he nods, you slurp- no, you gently take it in- no, you-

“Ugh.” Leon was broken out of the spell with his own nervousness, unsure of what you would do or even want to do. He hated the shame of thinking of you like this. As if you were only for his pleasure, for him to use- God damnit. 

            It had been almost ten years since las plagas, and he hasn’t been the same since. He hasn't been the same since most of his missions. He takes the hand off his mouth and uses it to take another sip of whiskey. If you were here, he’d offer you a chaser. You hadn’t been the heavy drinker he is. It was only recently that you started getting further into it, not knowing where to stop, or ignoring your limits entirely, as if you were trying to drown something out. Leon knew that feeling well and didn’t want to pry- you would tell him on your own time. 

            He ran his hand absentmindedly down his length, imagining it was your hand. He moaned again, so small he was sure you wouldn’t hear. He let himself fall into his fantasies.

You’re wearing your customary all black ensemble, clothes hugging your body as you take a shot of whiskey, chasing it with a drag of your cigarette. You’re on the balcony, body heat pressing into him.

“Those things will kill you; you know.” He jokes, you roll your eyes to look up at the stars.

“That’s kind of the idea.” You reply. He looks past your sadness.

“Have you ever considered that there are people that want you to live?” He says. You scoff.

“It’s a little too late for that.” You say, a tinge of regret in your voice. You pass him the bottle. He thrusts it out to the moon. 

“To being too late.” He cheers. You take out your cigarette and gesture it to the moon. 

“To being too late,” You echo. He takes a large sip. You take a long drag.  Your mouths are busy but not with each other. 

Leon came three times that night imagining those lips wrapped around his dick. But the night he sat on the couch with his dick in hand as you slept in his bed, he merely palmed himself, frustrated. 

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter One

This is the beginning of my fic "Psychic Sobriety". It takes the name from a song by Foie Gras. It features an AFAB gender neutral reader, and will deal with themes of alcohol abuse. It features (failing to) share a bed, pining while fucking, yearning, talk of addiction (nicotine, alcohol), PTSD, and cool rocks.

Let me know how you like it :)

Words: 1,450

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“Fuck me until I can’t walk. I want to cry, sob, scream, I want to feel something. Please.” I pleaded with him through thinly veiled shame. The liquid courage had taken effect and I spat out my words like a prayer to the devil. And maybe Leon would be my devil because he has ensnared me so well that I can only let out pitiful yells in his wake. He brought up both hands and encircled them around my wrists. He held me still, with the right force for me to know I was still in control, he would let me go if I wanted him to. But I never wanted him to stop touching me. He could kill me, and I would thank him, because his touch is so warm, and my soul feels so cold.

“You aren’t going to find what you’re looking for through me.” He said, voice even. It wasn’t a rejection.

“Let me try.” I searched his eyes, silently pleading. He looked away, as if knowing what I was going to say next.

“You know what you’re asking, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well then,” he released my wrists. “Ask it sober.”

“I am sober.”

“Tell that to the flush on your cheeks, sweetheart. Months of being too afraid to touch me and all the sudden you want to sleep with me? You know we have to get physically close for that, right?”

“I-“ my face went completely hot. Liquid courage had backfired on me. “You’re drunk too.” I finished lamely. He looked disappointed. I had to think of something. “And I want to touch you.”

“Did you want to touch me when you practically leapt out of my arms when I saved you from being hit by a car?” I flushed again, thinking about his arms around me, holding me tight as if I felt perfectly against his body. It was late, I was wearing my customary black, and even while shitfaced drunk he managed to grab me just before a car ran a red light. He picked me up and held me, hands on my back and knees. My heart ran a race inside my chest. The chaste way he held me, nothing untoward, took me out of it. Why would I think these thoughts about my friend? Why would I assume he would want me?

“When you touch me, it feels- distracting.” The look on his face told me it was the wrong thing to say.

“Thanks.” He deadpanned. His gaze looked so cold, and I felt so vulnerable. And to my mortification, my eyes began to sting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- please don’t hate me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like- like I’m only here for- God, I’m so sorry.” I blubbered, eyes filling with tears. His gaze softened. He took a step toward me.

“Hey,” his voice was quieter, meant just for me. In the soundlessness of his home, it felt intimate. “Stop worrying so much. You’re drunk. You had a slip up, it’s okay.” I sobbed ever harder. He came even closer to me, and awkwardly placed an arm around me. I leapt into his arms with a force that might have knocked someone else off balance. He just held me, waiting for me. I placed my face on his chest and sobbed into him. He held me tighter now, running a hand through my hair while the other laid on my back. We remained like this until my breath fell even, and I slowly let go, releasing him. I noticed a wet spot on his shirt.

“fuck, I’m sorry.” I move my hand over the spot. He gingerly takes my hand and lays it to rest over his heart.

“Listen to my heartbeat.” I close my eyes and focus. The rhythm brings me back to reality slightly.

“Hey, why don’t we sit down?” He leads me over to the couch and sits down beside me. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” I mumble.

“No, that’s not it. Come on, let me in.”

“I feel… rejected.” I reach for the bottle on the coffee table. He grabs it before I can reach it. Damn his reflexes.

“I’m going to put this away. I think we’ve had enough for tonight. I’m going to get you water.” He stands up, leaving with the bottle of vodka. I sit on the couch and stretch out a leg absentmindedly. He comes back and eyes me, I quickly lower it. He hands me the cup, I take a sip and put it on the table.

“So,” He says as he sits next to me again, “You feel rejected? Why?”

“Because…” was he seriously asking this? “Because we are the same amount of drunk and yet you don’t want to fuck me. You’ll fuck anyone, why not me?” I start to cry again. He hands me a tissue. I try to wipe my still wet eyes.  

“Hey now, why are you thinking that? This came out of the blue, I know this isn’t about that. What’s really happening?” I looked at him. Is it possible he doesn’t know that this was a confession of love? A confession for all the times I’ve fantasized about him, for every time he’s changed his shirt around me as if we were just friends? Does he still not know that I have thought about him every time I masturbate? Apparently not. Even while drunk, I decided to change strategies.

“Nobody wants me.” I decide. And to my horror, it felt like the truth. Was this really what I was worried about? But it doesn’t matter if no one else wanted me, or if everyone did. All that mattered was Leon..

“You? Come on, you’re gorgeous.” I cursed the god that wouldn’t let me respond to that by kissing him. Gods of circumstance, maybe.

“I’m… fine. But I’m a mess. You literally just saw me come onto you and cry when you rejected me.”

“True, but that doesn’t make you a mess. And it doesn’t make you any less gorgeous.” I look at him. He really does think I’m gorgeous?

“I think… I think I’m going to be sick.” I stand up and dash to his bathroom. I had the foresight to close the door so he wouldn’t hear me. After throwing up vodka, tequila, and bile, I flush the toilet and stand up. I balance myself on the counter and look at myself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, my hair is a mess, my clothes are rumpled. I don’t look gorgeous. He’s probably just trying to make me feel better. Like a friend.

            I exit the bathroom with the aura of a wreck. When I reach the living room, he is still there, looking right at me when I enter.

“I’ve been thinking, why don’t you take the bed tonight?” He says, as if I’m something fragile. I laugh bitterly.

“Harass you, then chase you out of your own bed? No way. Come with me. Just to sleep. Please?” I know I’m pushing my luck, but he nods, nonetheless.

“Okay, just to sleep.” He averts his eyes, as if it was a painful admission. “I have a shirt that will fit you.” He leads the way to his bedroom, and you follow. You knew you had your own clothes here but didn’t want to bring attention to it. He reaches into his dresser and pulls out a large black T-shirt.

“See? It’s even your style.” He jokes. I smile weakly.

“Thank you.” I take the shirt from him, and walk into the bathroom, leaving him to change.

            His shirt feels soft. He knows I appreciate the worn-down softness only something well-loved could provide. He knows everything about me. He won’t sleep with me. I slink back into the room, his t-shirt loose around my body. He stares at me, looking directly at my body with a face I had rarely seen before. I ignored it.

“Are you coming?” He asked. I nod and walk toward him. The bed is soft, the sheets are dark blue. They feel like cotton as I crawl under the covers next to him. He grabs my hand.

“Hey,” He says softly, looking into my eyes. “You are wanted. Anyone that doesn’t see that isn’t looking hard enough.” I search his eyes for any signs of deceit. I decided I wouldn't find any, and looked away. 

“Thanks,” I mumble. He squeezes my hand before letting go. He turns off the lamp, plunging us into sudden darkness. This wasn’t how I expected to sleep together tonight. But our friendship is intact, and that’s the best I could have hoped for. 

[damianabsinthe]

A preview...

“Fuck me until I can’t walk. I want to cry, sob, scream, I want to feel something. Please.” I pleaded with him through thinly veiled shame. The liquid courage had taken effect and I spat out my words like a prayer to the devil. And maybe Leon would be my devil because he has ensnared me so well that I can only let out pitiful yells in his wake. He brought up both hands and encircled them around my wrists. He held me still, with the right force for me to know I was still in control, he would let me go if I wanted him to. But I never wanted him to stop touching me. He could kill me, and I would thank him, because his touch is so warm, and my soul feels so cold.

“You aren’t going to find what you’re looking for through me.” He said, voice even. It wasn’t a rejection.

“Let me try.” I searched his eyes, silently pleading. He looked away, as if knowing what I was going to say next.

“You know what you’re asking, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well then,” he released my wrists. “Ask it sober.”

.

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(First six chapters out now)

[damianabsinthe]

Leon Kennedy

I'm fucking obsessed with him. I will be posting my writing on here. Enjoy