#Re fanfic

[sinsofnivan]

INTOXICATION .ᐟ — RE Men x YOU.

SUMMARY: just horny resident evil blurbs where they're all pussydrunk. <3

PAIRINGS: LEON S. KENNEDY/Reader, LUIS SERRA/Reader, CHRIS REDFIELD/Reader, ALBERT WESKER/Reader, JACK KRAUSER/Reader, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/Reader

WARNINGS: female reader, nsfw themes, PROBABLY inaccurate anatomy, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it folks. ), begging, breeding && Daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry makeup sex, size kink/difference, cervix fucking,

author's note: this is my first post. :) sorry if it's not that flourished . . .

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ NSFW UNDER THE CUT. ┈┈┈┈

LEON S KENNEDY .ᐟ

leon has seen — and will see more — monsters and cruelty beyond human recognition. both you and him think it's a pretty valid reason to not have children yet.

he knows contraceptives and birth control isn't a hundred percent effective, so he always played it safe: cumming on your face, giving you a good throatpie, covering your back and/or tummy with his warm cum . . .

so one could imagine the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your pretty legs around him.

⟡

"baby, fuck! what're you- what're you doing?"

leon snaps from his fucked out haze, eyes suddenly wide and open as he watched you in your familiar fervour. "leon, please, please, Daddy. breed me. want your cum," you begged for it like you needed it; the shiny gloss of your tears only made you look so much prettier, he thinks . . . how could he resist such an angel like you?

"baby, we- we . . " he physically cannot muster that he can't. because can, and he will. the rough snapping of his hips never faltered, mind and body fueled with the need to breed you, to stuff you full until you leaked. "don't pull out—♡.ᐟ "

your begging alone was irresistible, and with the additional hypnotizing vice you had around his girth — the word no didn't even exist in his head. "yeah? y , y'want it that bad?" nod, nod.

you whined when he pulls out, partly from disappointment and feeling empty without him. you thought you'd be triumphant. just as you were about to call for him, however, your knees are pressed against your chest, and the familiar grip on your hips were now on the back of your knees.

it's not the stretch that makes your eyes wide, but the feeling of his tip pressed directly against your cervix. a premature orgasm rips through you and turning your brain into mush. completely, this time; leon was there to witness this, brows furrowed together and resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back so he can see your beautiful face.

his pounding resumes, skin sinfully slapping against skin, cock grazing your most sensitive spots with each needy rut. "i'll fucking breed you, angel. how do you like that?" your legs are high, higher up, now that he's leaning forward to have a closer look on your pretty face.

"Y/N," he chants like a prayer. he needs you like he hasn't needed before, forever and always. "leoooooon, love you — i love you," you sobbed, nails marking crescents on his shoulders, biceps. you feel so fucking full, you can't even think. just him and how good it'd feel to have his semen leaking out of your folds.

"fuuuuck, baby. you're drivin' me crazy. i love you too,"

his hips are aching, but that doesn't stop him from ramming himself completely deep into you. it won't stop him, because all he can think of is to fuck you stupid, fuck you full.

there's nothing coherent that follows, just pure, absolute filth. you're drooling, and leon's tongue is cleaning up your mess, like he's not drooling with you. his orgasm's nearing, thrusts getting noticeably sloppy and unrhythmic, but still forceful; compensating for the lack of speed.

"'m gonna cum, darling. ah—! beg for it. beg for it like a good girl,"

your pleading resonates in the room. if you could emphasize it with a wrap of your legs, you would have done so already. but your legs feel numb. y'can't move, not with his body weight forcing them up.

"pleeeeease, pleasepleasepleaseplease. need it! need'a be bred, please,"

leon would have come up with a witty remark, but all that comes from him is a groan whilst he buried himself balls deep into you. he's not pent up or anything, not even close, but he knows he's cumming lots. because despite being fully sheathed inside you, it's leaking everywhere. he rides out his high with slow, shallow thrusts, cum spilling with every push of his cock.

he's regaining awareness, taking in deep breaths. his eyes glaze over your figure, pretty much in the same state of post-sex euphoria as you. "Y/N," he mutters, letting your legs down slowly. the wince on your face tells him you're awake, and he cups your face.

"Y/N, baby,"

a thumb caresses your cheek. "—talk to me," leon sighs in relief when you grinned at him. "hi, baby," you croaked groggily. leon began to massage your thighs, kissing your neck. "i'm sorry i got carried away," and the night is spent with you cradled by his strong arms and comforted with his usual sweetness.

now, he's left with an addiction for giving you endless creampies.

LUIS SERRA .ᐟ

GIF by entreri

your pleasure comes first before everything. 

before he's buried deep and you're stretched out from his cock, your cunt's all soaked and prepped from the amount of foreplay he gives you. it's more than just wanting to prepare you. to luis, it's a requirement. having the taste of your pussy and cum on his lips was mandatory. he can't neglect his prinsesa like this.

why would he deprive you of his tongue? his fingers? he likes taking his sweet, sweet time in watching you crumble into nothing for him, only for him.

⟡

"luis!"

how many times have you creamed and gushed all over your lover's face? you can't recall. you don't even know how long he's been lapping at your cunt, but luis continues to coax out orgasm after orgasm from you.

he basks in your reactions each and every time, peering up at you just to watch you writhe from his tongue, how your body arches when you've reached your sinful crescendo, how your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull while you scream his name . . .

every man has his needs, and it's hard to create balance when the need to taste your pussy and your cum is equally as strong as the need to give his cock some sweet relief; after it's been painfully hard for an hour now. it twitches every now and then, aching for you. your touch. your lips, hands . . . "dios mio, chica," he pulls away to spit on your pretty, glistening cunt. "por favor, bebé. te necesito." he's desperate to relieve this ache, to feel that sweet release, but he just can't stop. too addicted. too drunk.  

he compromises, your bliss coming first before his. his tongue laps up at your clit — the sensitive bud all puffy and twitchy from how much he's made you gush for the past hour. you feel so breathless. so lightheaded. still, it didn't stop you from begging your handsome lover. "luiiiis, pleeeease, want your cock." 

his response? delving his tongue into your folds; tongue tracing your creamy slit and cleaning up the mess you've made. "shhhhh, prinsesa." luis says with a mouthful of cunt, nose brushing against your clit everytime he tried to clean up every drop of your slick. your wails only grow louder, weakness taking over as your legs close in on him. luis feels his breath hitch in his throat. 

not just from the prolonged use of his skilled mouth. but because your thighs crushed him. effectively.

can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe . . .  

his hands have a mind of its own at this point, because a mere minute had passed, and he had already undone his pants to pull his cock out. his moan reverberates against your cunt, and it only makes you cry out, pulling on greying tresses. you can't think straight anymore. all you can think of is luis . . . .

he's determined to make you cum again, lips latching on to your clit. he's determined to make you fall apart for him again. his stubble rubs against your soft skin, a harsh contrast from his gentleness, but the burn only makes it all the more enjoyable. "cum, bebé," he says, hollowing his cheeks. your legs only tighten involuntarily, too responsive to his stimulation. luis kept his eyes on you, grunting against your pussy as he fucked his fist. he can't help it anymore, mami.

"oh, bebé,"

if only you could see how he desperately fucked his fist. he was such a good lover for you. it can't compare to your cunt, never — but beggars can't be choosers. you were so lost in your own euphoria, you swore you're seeing stars.He just growls against your folds, eager to make you cream on his face again.

"pleease, mami. cum for me. squirt on my face," 

"oh, luis! fuck! 'm cumming! cummingcummingcummingggg! hnhggh—♡!"

neither of you made sense to each other, engulfed with overwhelming bliss that washes over you — and, well, luis's face. it didn't matter, however, as you two knew your bodies and loved each other beyond words. you didn't need to tell him how good he made you feel, when your shaking legs already spoke on your behalf. 

as soon as luis feels your juices soak his chin, cheeks, hell, everywhere—he can't help but spill his cum into his hand, high-pitched cries buzzing against your pulsating cunt. he rides out your climax with gentle kisses on your spasming clit, each kiss helping you ride out your high. he found it cute how your body spasmed with every brush of his lips and stubble.

he rises to meet you, lips leaving trails of wet kisses along your body. "bonita," he whispered against your stomach, gently nibbling on the soft flesh. everything is blurry for you, with luis being the only clear picture in your eyes. you bite your lip. he goes higher, 'till ivory meets your hardened bud; fingertips toying with the other. "luiiiis, gimme - gimme kiss," you whined, holding his face. "'m here, prinsesa. i'm here," finally, fucking finally, you and luis are face to face. 

"i love youu. love you, baby. i love you so so much," 

"i love you too, mi amor." 

you can't help but grin when you feel his cock—still hard and leaking pre—rest against your cunt.

CHRIS REDFIELD .ᐟ

despite how he hulked over pretty much you and . . well, everyone, chris was a gentle giant. or tried his best to be one. it didn't help that he was naturally strong and bigger than you. his whole figure pretty much eclipsed over your frame, with his hand engulfing the entirety of your own, shoulders enough to keep you out of sight from wandering eyes . . . if he didn't keep in mind to handle you gently, he could practically crush you. 

mind? 

what mind? 

"c , chris!" 

you pathetically drooled all over his bicep as he pounded you from behind. his whole body weight was on top of you in a caging pronebone, with a headlock to completely lock you in place. "Y , Y/N, my baby girl," he whispered, nipping the shell of your ear. "your cunt feels good. i love you. i love you . .  love fucking you," he mutters dumbly as he kept shoving his cock deep into you. you knew he was still—at the very least—still keeping in mind to not crush you, because the bicep arm around your neck barely took your breath away. 

his thrusts did.

every push in knocked out the breath out of your lungs, cunt nicely wrapping around his girth. no matter how much prep he gives, you always ended up squirming because the stretch was like no other. it reached places no toy or finger ever could—the tip threatening to bully its way past your cervix. 

his head is placed between the nook of your shoulder, breathing heavily against your neck as his stubble grazed over your skin. your skin is littered with bites, especially the shoulder that was within his teeth and tongue''s reach; the outline of his teeth covered in a thin layer of his spit. 

you weakly held on to his forearms, feeling yourself creaming around it. but you just can't help it—the drag of his cock against your walls was so fucking heavenly, you could have sworn you saw white for a brief moment. 

"p , pretty cunt's all messy, baby," 

chris stammers, shamelessly moaning into your ear and immediately latching on to your earlobe, can't keep his mouth unoccupied for more than a minute. especially if it's you. he can't stop kissing you. can't stop tasting you. 

can't stop fucking you.

you were helplessly pinned beneath his body—and you didn't possess half the strength to push him off. it made your cunt twitch thinking about being trapped under him, forced to take the pleasure, forced to take the stretch of your cunt . . . 

"f , fuck! don't—don't do that. 'm gonna cum, b , baby,"

"h , huh?"

before you could question him any further, his hips began to pick up the pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin intensified. "pleeaaaasepleaseplease, Y/N," he's acting like you were stopping him from whatever he wanted to do. "please. just let me cum in you. let me breed you. fuck, fuuuck. 'm gonna make you a mama," 

there's no thought behind every word he's spewing, and his body's moving purely on feral instict. "you'd. hnnngh. oh my god—make s , such a good housewife." chris is whimpering, fucking yearning to breed you as he envisions you as his wife. mrs. redfield. you can't speak a word in his filthy rambling, but it wasn't like you had the coherence to butt in. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head and your mouth would be wide open if his arm and bicep didn't mush your cheeks together.

"oh . . oh fuck. fuck. i l , loveee you. love you . . " 

he's lost count from how many times he's confessed how much he wants to marry you, how much he loves you, and who actually keeps count, anyway. all it mattered was your pleasure and his as he pounded you into the mattress. "love you too, chris! hnnnng—♡.ᐟ" 

there's something with the way you said it, or maybe he's just that in love with you. he can't help it, his arm tightening around your neck as he buried himself deep with a loud whimper of your name. you gasped for air, feeling even more full. 

but you didn't get to cum. he doesn't feel the familiar flutter of your walls, or the feeling of you soaking his cock for the nth time. who was he, if he couldn't fuffill your needs?

even in the midst of his overstimulation, he's trying his best to keep thrusting into you. "b , baby. please, need you to cum for me," he breathed out between gasps. "gotta be a good husband. gotta make you cum," like you hadn't been squirting for him since before he had you pinned under him. 

"y, you don't have t—!"

your words are knocked out from you as he began to ram into you harder. 'till your ass was red. 'till he's finally breaking the protective barrier of your cervix. 'till you're

"cumming—♡.ᐟ "

your eyes are wide open, mouth agape and dripping with spit. your cunt's helplessly gushing for him, clenching down on him ridiculously tight. "that's it. that's it, baby. such a good baby. you're so fucking m , messy, jesus chriiist," 

your mind's gone, and so is your remaining strength, body completely enervated as your head rests on his arm. nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Chris began to place kisses on his jaw. The sensation of his rough stubble confirms you're awake, albeit feeling very lightheaded and almost dizzy. 

you don't know how long you two laid there. It was probably just minutes, but felt like hours, up until chris had pulled away from you. you feel his cum ooze out of your cunt, and you whine. 

"shh. shh. 'm here, baby. i'm here," 

chris helps flip you over to your back, and you groggily wrapped your arms around him. "are you alright?" chris caresses your cheek, before bestowing a kiss on your forehead. "i'm here. i'm here. do you want water?" 

you shook your head, only pulling him to you. he settles you under his arm, securing you with another muscular arm wrapped atop your body. "did you mean it?" you murmured weakly against his chest. chris only rubbed your back. "i wanted to be a husband?" you can feel the rumble of chris's chuckle. you nod. "of course, baby." chris tilts your chin up, tucking your locks behind your ear. 

"i love you so much. i'd love to spend the rest of eternity with you,"

you hid your face, embarrassed. "chriiiis," your boyfriend laughs at your cute reaction. "you're so cheesy," "whaaat, it's true!" you puff your cheeks out. "i'd love to spend the rest of my life with you too . . . "

good. because the ring was just resting nicely in the back of your nightstand's drawer.

ALBERT WESKER .ᐟ

wesker is strict. firm. what he says goes, beyond shadow of doubt. so when he tells you to not run your shoe up his leg, don't do it. There's a disappointed click of his tongue when your disobedience persists, your stilettos rubbing against his shin. "this is a professional dinner, Y/N." you can't see it, but you can feel his eyes piercing daggers into you. "hm?" you blink up at him so deceivingly sweet and innocent. "i know. the food tastes great, no?" you can't help but grin when you see him clench his jaw. 

wesker is strict. firm. 

but that's because there's nothing he enjoys more than breaking his brat into a drooling, mindless mess.

smack! 

"f , four!" 

you're settled on wesker's lap, legs parted as per his request ( demand, actually. ). 

you held on to your lover's arm for dear life, glancing over at your reddening cunt that Wesker's been leaving harsh spanks on. "are you gonna be good, pet?" you nodded vigorously, trying to hide the fact that your eyes were tearing up from his mean treatment. 

"really? I don't believe you."

SMACK! 

"i , i promise I won't do it again, sir!" you cried out. shutting your eyes, you braced yourself for the next slap that was to come. But you feel him slide two fingers into you instead. "you're fucking wet." Wesker spat, curling his fingers up. it squelches lewdly, your cream smearing all over his palm. "see?" It's obvious where Wesker was looking, because his other hand ensnares your jaw once he realizes your eyes had rolled back to your skull. 

"see?"

you swallowed nervously, nodding. "look at your messy fucking cunt." without any further warnings, he began to ram his fingers knuckle-deep into you. not slow or merciful, no, none of that. hard and forceful, as if to burn a lesson into that mischievous head of yours. 

"are you gonna keep acting like a brat?" Wesker growled, squishing your cheeks together with his hand. "no, sir! 'm s , sorry!" Wesker laughed at your pathetic apology, purposefully grazing his palm against your puffy clit. "I could almost feel bad for you." he cooed mockingly. "but this is your fault. the consequences of your actions." 

he continued to thrust his fingers—quite inhumanely, one might add—the room filled with the filthy harmony of your whimpers and the squelching of your pretty pussy. you're trying your very best to keep your eyes open, but the best you could do was look down at your soaking folds with a lidded gaze. it didn't help that you could feel your climax quickly building up.  "what do you say, slut?" he forces you to stay conscious, tapping your cheek with his four fingers. his thumb instinctively traced your spit-soaked lips. you're no better, parting them as soon as you feel the phalange. 

"i'm shooorry! w , won't do it again! i'll — ohmygod — be good!" 

your body shakes, a garbled squeal escaping your pretty lips as his fingertips curl up to your most sensitive spots. his gaze is to you, his pretty girl, how gorgeous you looked falling apart on him. Of course, he doesn't miss how you roll your eyes back uncontrollably. Wesker lets this slide, because he adores how fucked out you look. 

"look at me. Are you gonna cum, pet?" Wesker tantalizingly grazed the pad of his thumb against your clit. you look so pretty looking up at him with wide eyes as he urges you closer to your climax. "y , yes sir!" you whimpered. "yeah? gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty?" you nodded, and oh my days, the way you held on to his forearm and nuzzled your face into him was so fucking adorable, wesker can't help but feel the warmth spread on his cheeks. 

too bad he's still gotta discipline you. 

just as you were about to reach that delicious release, you squealed as he harshly pulled his fingers out. It leaves your cunt empty and aching. "bad girls don't get to cum on sir's fingers." 

instead, he smacks your cunt again. you clench around nothing, eyes watering as desperation ran through your veins. "pleasepleaseplease," the spanks you once dread, you were now looking for; the infliction on your clit enough to prolong your incoming orgasm. 

"wanna cum. please sir, wanna cum. pleasepleaseplease," you tugged on his arm, and wesker lets out a shaky exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. raising his hand, he strikes your cunt again, and you yelped. "you . . you like this, pet?" he won't lie, you're making his facade break."yes! please, please, i just wanna cum," you sobbed, salty tears completing your fucked out look. wesker spanks your cunt again, and again, and agai—

you screamed, with a sinful bliss trickling down your back as you arch. you're gushing everywhere, all from his mere spanking. his head dips to claim your lips, tongue first; and it doesn't surprise you when you feel him slowly stuff your mouth as his tongue elongates.

you suck on it, no matter how messy it made you: chin dribbling with sloppy drool, lipstick smearing everywhere . . . your cheeks hollow, and you groaned when his fingers began to rub figure eights on your clit again. "mffh—!" still overstimulated and aching from your ruined orgasm, your hand encircles his wrist. but you didn't possess half the strength to pry his hand away. 

he slides his creamy fingers again back into you again, back to mercilessly fingerfucking you. his tongue only muffles your cries of pleasure, and wesker can't stop literally fucking shoving his tongue down your throat. 'specially when he feels your pussy tighten up as he fills your mouth. it's so filthy, wesker knows he's fucking fantasizing about this for days on end. his cock aches, leaking pre just for you. 

only for you. 

much to your displeasure, he's emptying your mouth; monstrous tongue retracting and at the very least, allowing you to breathe. "you're gonna cum for me again, pet." he purred, licking the sweat dripping on your cheek.

"i forgive you, pretty. only if you do one thing for me." he nipped at the apple of your cheek, a grin gracing his face. you whined when he pauses, but it was to probably give you time for your mind to function. 

"who owns you?" 

you feel that flutter in your tummy, and you mutter a soft: "you do . . . "

"sorry, can't hear you. speak up, pet." 

and as if to further tease you, his fingers begin its harsh thrusting again. "y , you do!" you said in one breath, in between wails and gasping. "i do, what?" he smirked smugly, chuckling against your cheek. "you— nghggh! you—!" "i . . i what, pet?" "you own me! you own my body!" 

and of course, your body knows; cunt quivering for the second time and squirting all over his digits again. "there we go, pretty. oh, your pussy's so messy." his thumb caressed your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. you've been so good for him, he thinks you deserve it.

"there we go. i know, i know. s'too much, isn't it?" his comforting voice is so misleading, like there wasn't a lot of sadistic, unholy thoughts running through his head right now. "shh, shh. you did so well." he kindly helps you ride out your high with gentle strokes of his fingers. 

you're exhausted, mass completely resting on his frame as you tried to catch your breath. you huffed when you slowly feel him sliding his fingers out of you, the simplest movements still too much for your poor, overstimulated cunt. 

"you did so well,"

you're lucid, for the most part; feeling him turn you around so you would be facing him. He rubbed your curves, tracing the dimple on your lower back. 

"sleep, my love. i'll be here." 

JACK KRAUSER .ᐟ

you can fight with krauser with just about anything. krauser, with his hot-headedness, and you, with a similar temper and a venomous tongue. your arguments, especially the big ones, always ended up ugly. no matter how many times he held you, kissed your tears away, and apologized and vice versa, it never failed to send you crying or him walking out. 

and you don't even know why you both keep coming back to each other. giving each other chances like tomorrow will be any different. 

"i fucking hate you. i fucking hate this!" 

this was new. krauser's brows narrow together in a scowl. despite the hurl of insults you've thrown at each other, you never . . .  you never said that to him.

did you really mean that? did he really lose you this time?

you jabbed a finger on his muscular chest. "i'm fucking tired of you. i'm sick of you being so fucking angry all the time and so fucking possessive and so—!" you only just realized what you said when you saw the hurt look on krauser's face. why did he look so . . . sad? it made your heart sink in your stomach. "say that again," you begin to take a few steps back as krauser's hulking frame loomed over you like an impending doom. 

" j , jack, i—,"

your back hits the cold wall, and a pair of muscular arms cage you in place. you couldn't mutter another word when he suddenly threw your body over his shoulder. "hey!" you groaned. 

a hand slapped your clothed rear, before the both of your figures disappeared into the darkness of your bedroom. 

⟡

"say it again, i fucking dare you!"

you pretty much drooled all over the bed as krauser's big, strong hand held your head down. it made breathing more difficult, movement more restricted, but he was successful in shutting you up—which was probably krauser's goal. each slam of his cock was harder than the last, and your poor body can't keep up with krauser's rough treatment.

"you're jus' a big fuckin' brat." he growled, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust, pinning your wrists behind you. his grip was bruising. crushing, even. and very, very angry.  "need'a—oh . . . —fuck some manners into you, clearly." your moans are muffled, and you hear an amused chuckle from behind you; and without warning, he yanks your hair and forced your body to a difficult arch. . you were so beautiful in krauser's eyes.

"y'got somethin' to say, bitch?" the timbre of his hoarse voice is enough to send shivers down your spine; and of course, his pace was more merciless, more . . . . inhumane. how you were still able to form sentences—if you could call it that—you didn't know. "h, haateyouuu!" you grunt out in one breath. "no you don't, baby." both your scalp and body finds relief as he released you. if he hadn't held your hips in place, you would have collapsed on the bed. 

there's a lot of shifting behind you that you don't see, up until he forces you to flip and lay on your back. once again, you're met with that stupid shit-eating grin on his handsome, scarred face. before you can even utter an insult, you feel him deep in your fucking guts. 

he's amused at your stupefied expression—wide, gorgeous eyes with tears beading at the ends of each strand of lash. your face alone could have sent him into an orgasm, but the fun can’t end so quickly, especially when he wasn't done proving his point.  “fuck, baby. you’re so—hnngg—wet,” with that, his rough pounding resumes; the bed creaking with every reckless thrusts he gives you. 

"oh, fuck!" you cried out, instinctively reaching out to wrap your arms around him—except, it ends up having both of your wrists pinned above your head. it's quick, and you don't even register it until you realize you had nothing to scratch on. "l , let me g- oh—♡! y, you fucking prick!" "stop fucking talking, you fucking brat!" spiteful is he, his pounding picking up pace and force. it made you dizzy. made your brain mush. made you moan for him louder; and as soon as he sees that pretty tongue lull out, krauser naturally has to spit into it. and you, well, naturally swallow it. 

the way you whimpered for him, how your body was so vulnerable for him, and only for him, and so submissive under his mercy . . . it triggers something animalistic in krauser. something primal. 

he feels the cold trail of drool drip from the side of his lip, and just as you thought he couldn't fuck into you harder, he was. his tip's literally pressing into your cervix. "you're g , gonna break me—♡!" krauser keeps rutting into you like a starved beast, the pleasure so fucking addicting. 

"gonna—," his words are interrupted by low growls and heavy breathing. "gonna fucking ruin you. you're mine," your pussy shouldn't reflexively clamp down on him, but it fucking does, and he loves it. "take it back."

you blink.

. . . huh?

"i didn't —god, fucking stutter. take it back!" "i don't — ahnnn— hate you!" krauser shakes his head. "no, no. t , that's not enough," you squealed when his thumb rolls over your clit. "say you love me," the added sensation makes you scream. "say you fucking love me, please," krauser whined, and you didn't know you liked that until . . now. 

"quit fucking around, Y/N!" he impatiently snarled, grabbing your thighs and pushing it to its limit; 'till your ankles were beside your ears. "w , wait—oh fuuuuck—♡!" stars fill your vision as soon as his cock slams back into you. "say you love me, c'moooon, don't be fucking stubborn," 

how could you say it, when each slam of his hips drew out nothing but fucked out whimpers from you? "i love you," yet, he fucked you like he hated you. and you despised the way it made your cunt flutter as it promises both you and him an orgasm. 

"yeah? you like that? i love you," as if your folded position wasn't difficult enough, him leaning down to capture your lips just makes you even more breathless. but you kiss him back. your lips yearn for him like air, and the best you could reciprocate it was a mere glide of your wet muscle; to which krauser didn't really mind. 

"i love you—! fucking love you, love f , fucking you." he says, thrusts frantic and relentless. "love , , l , love—," you pant, nails sinking into his forearms. "i love . .  fuck, fuuuuuck— i love you too—," you've never heard krauser whine that loud, but he does, sloppily thrusting into you as his orgasm takes over; cumming the hardest he's ever been.

"come on, baby. cum for me," he whimpered, face contorting in overstimulated bliss as he continued his thrusts. seeing him this needy and desperate to make you feel good made your stomach flutter.  "i love you," he whispered, placing kisses on your temple, on your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.

"s , soooo fucking much,"

the way the tip grazes again and again and fucking again on your most sensitive. deepest parts makes you squeal, makes you wail. only he could reduce you to this whimpering mess. "'m close, baby. right there. don't stop—♡!" 

ragged breaths and feral grunts turn into high-pitched whining, krauser's cock aching from pleasure. too much pleasure. but his hips won't stop moving, can't stop driving himself deeper into you. "love you—love youuu," you babbled mindlessly, completely forgetting whatever grievance you held for him, and vice versa. his cock aches. throbs. the sensitivity should be too much, but his hips keep slamming into you.

and judging how he doesn't look any less tired . . . you were in for a long, long night.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA .ᐟ

carlos pretty much worships the ground you walk on. he thinks you're the best thing that has happened to him, and my god, this man will spoil you rotten. the moment his eyes laid upon your gorgeous face, he knew he didn't want to live in cold, cruel, Y/N-less world. after your second date, he's made up his mind. he will marry you, in due time. 

for now, he can settle with the domestic life of living together, doing your groceries together, cleaning the house to your favourite songs and slow dancing mid-vacuum.

"hey babe?"

"yeah?"

he switches the vacuum off, the shiny foil atop your night table catching carlos's eye. if he's not mistaken, this was your birth control. upon a closer look, it seemed . . . untouched. was this an old batch? did you forget? he looks over at you, putting away your clothes in the closet. 

"babe, it's your birth control pills!" he exclaimed, brows narrowing with concern. "have you been taking them?" it was only when you've finished up your chore did you turn to your boyfriend, looking at your pills, and then at his face. "those are my contraceptives, yes . . and no, why?" the lack of worry in your voice calms carlos a bit, blinking at your nonchalance. "but, babe—," "wait, i haven't told you yet?" your laughter mixes with your words. "told me what?"

you took it upon yourself to close the remaining distance between the both of you, cradling his face with your warm hands. "carlos,"—you reached over for your medication and put them aside. "i've stopped taking birth control, baby. since like, two weeks ago. i thought i told you, but i must've forgotten . . . " 

there's so many thoughts running in his head. thinkin' how gorgeous you'd be during your wedding day. when you're finally pregnant and bearing his child. how he'd be calling you his wife and not his girlfriend anymore. how he'd be a husband to you, and a father . . 

"—earth to carlos. hellooo?" 

"what?"

he blinked, realizing you were waving a hand in front of his face. "you said something about wanting to start a family some day . . it doesn't have to be now, but if it happens, then . . " you shrugged. 

what do you mean it doesn't have to be now?

it has to be now. 

⟡

he has to plunge his cock balls deep in you now. even if his previous creampies were already leaking out from your pretty hole. he needed to breed you over and over again now. he reveled in the sight of you; with your hair sticking to your skin from how much you were sweating, how your tits bounced with every thrust forward with his hips, how your lips were hanging agape from pure bliss . . you are so, so pretty in his eyes. prettier when you're thoroughly fucked and bred.

carlos could only groan, feeling your cunt twitch around his cock. he kept watching you writhe, kept watching you squirm beneath him because he just fucked you so good—but the squelch reverberating from beneath you catches his attention. hazel eyes begin to trail down your body, down to your pretty cunt where you were the messiest. slick smeared to wherever it could, and your poor clit was puffy from how many times he's ran a thumb over it . . .  but that didn't seem to stop him from doing so for the nth time. just to see your legs quiver, to see your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull.

"carlooos—♡," you whined, hips bucking against the sensation. "'m here, mama. jus' let it out," he mumbled in his pussydrunk stupor. seeing how you couldn't even mutter his name properly did things to carlos—fueling his lust was one of them; his grip on the back of your knees become tighter—and the slamming of his hips was more brutal, trying to fuck his cum back in you like he wasn't already doing that for the past hour. 

"ah! ahn—you're so rough!" you whimpered, and carlos only lets out a dry chuckle. "h-haah . . i-i have to be. or else you—," his words are abruptly interrupted by a loud groan as he forces his cock as deep as he could, just for emphasis. "you . . won't be knocked up," he whined, balls twitching as it ached to cum into your womb again. "c'mon, mama. get pregnant. fuuuuck, jesus christ—," 

he could feel himself drooling as he ruts into you desperately. "c'mere, cariño," you went from having your knees pressed to your chest to being completely folded in half. his face is buried in your neck, and his hands—no—his arms have moved to cradle your head, his chest taking over for him as your legs rest nicely on his shoulders. his tongue is all over your flesh, lazily lapping up your neck and sweat. the new position has him fucking deeper—literally. feels like his tip was gonna force itself up in your poor cervix. it was suffocating, but. but you craved it. you yearned for it. 

you needed it.

his hips were clearly hurting and fatigued, because every brutal slam down into you would result to him grunting and whining. his tongue's cold against your neck, spanish words whispered against it while he busied himself pounding away at your pretty, creamy pussy. nothing was stopping him from breeding you, from stuffing you full, not even the pain that pooled both in his hips and your thighs.  

"your pussy’s so goooood, fuck . . love you, i love you. dios .  . dios mio, no puedo dejar de follarte. quiero d , dejarte embarazada, mi amor." you couldn't understand his mindless spanish babbling—not with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. "wh , what . . ?" "shh, baby." —it's followed by more spanish muttering that you can't follow. not that there was anythin' going on in that pretty head of yours. 

[ god . .  oh my god . . i can't stop fucking you. i want to get you pregnant, my love. ]

there was nothing going on in his head, either. just the thoughts of you knocked up—everyone would know you belonged to him, that he fucked you, that you made him a father—it only fueled the never ending lust that he had no strength to resist. "oh my fucking god, baby, fuuuck!" his face scrunches up as he speeds up, and you didn't even know that was fucking possible. your eyes widened, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening 'til it snapped; your orgasm spraying all over yourself and him as you screamed. "so messy, h-haah, f, fuck!" "carlos, m, my cunt—!" you could no longer find the words to say to him, stars filling your vision. you swore you were going to pass out. 

your cunt was sensitive, obviously, but carlos was beyond overstimulated—it hurts—his cock hurts after cumming and cumming and cumming in you, but the way your creamy walls hugged his cock was enough compensation. he won't stop. can't bring himself to stop. because everytime his cock slid back into you, your pathetic cunt only squirts in small fountains, dragging out your orgasm and only allowing him to slide in and out of you easily.  "gonna cum. 'm cumming," his whines grew sharper, getting higher and higher as his orgasm neared. his hold around your head tightened, and you could only bite and lick at the skin of his chest as his frame practically eclipsed over your frame.

"Y/N—god. 'm cumming. gonna breed you. gonna—g, gonna get you pregnant! dios mio, Tu coño se siente genial—," stuffing your fucking cunt to the fullest, he cried out your name as he came; this was the hardest he's cummed, experiencing heaven as he sloppily rode out his orgasm with shallow, sloppy thrusts. he greedily wanted more, but god, he's sure he can't cum anymore after this. he's not even sure if he can lift his hips to pull out his veiny, girthy cock out of your dripping pussy. 

you're barely conscious—so close to passing out when you feel a hand on your cheek, fingers worriedly tapping you awake. "baby?" his voice echoed in your ears, and you opened your heavy lids, vision adjusting to the sight of him. "come back to me," he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses. "carlos." you chuckled weakly. you only just realized that you did pass out, because you don't remember carlos putting down your legs or covering you both with your comforter. "i got worried." carlos lays beside you, pulling you beside him. "slept good?" he teases, and you only grumbled. you feel his stubble graze your brow as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "did i get too carried away?" "you don't say," you both chuckled. "'m sleepy," you mutter, wrapping an arm around him. and the only response you got from him? a light snore. you can't help but laugh to yourself. 

end.

A/N: such a wild prompt TT but i hope you enjoyed! thank you to my beta reader, @lafox-chan for proofreading and helping me!

and here's a blooper while we were working on it!

[clitorphosis]

SPIT TO SEE THE SHINE

Vendetta Leon S. Kennedy x reader |18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON, smut, age gap (reader is in 20s, Leon is 37) female reader, abusive relationship, implied alcoholism, stockholm syndrome, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, use of ‘daddy’ (not a lot), implied erectile disfunction lmao, victim blaming, fingering, implied physical and sexual violence, forced breeding.

Summary: life gets lonelier after 30s, the realization hits harder Leon and the way to cope with it is to get his hands on alcohol… too bad booze tends to encourage him to not be a good man - ending up with a younger girl in his apartment. Maybe it is a grave mistake, but Leon is just a man and who doesn’t make them? notes: uhm, this may be a lil bit self indulgent, sorry for that :3 I DONT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE!!! reblogs, asks and any kind of feedback or interaction are really appreciated! :3

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

Mama has told you not to trust strangers, the concern was referred to the men, but your ears have never held her words for a time longer than a day. Nor did you remember her words when an attractive, older man noticed you and was nice enough to ask you out. That night was supposed to be a little date, giddy and happy jumping into the front seat of his car. That’s the last thing you remember. Eventually, you can not fathom how this happened - the day later your head hurt as you were forced to swallow the hard pill: you got kidnapped by your date.

The first month was insufferable and painful, slowly growing out of your ‘rebellious attitude’ and memorizing his body language like a child in an abusive household. His gaze is everywhere, keeping you locked up in the room when he is not present, a reminder to you that there is no free choice. The food, clothes, and your free time were defined by Leon’s mood and taste which… Liked to swing, creating a mess for you both, not knowing if he was genuinely ashamed of what he had done. You hated him, dreaming about the day when his throat would be sliced, painting your hands with red just to breathe in the air of freedom.

Mama knows best. No, Leon knows best.

Sometimes Leon is mean, without hesitation, sharp words can be thrown at you when he is drunk. Blaming his misery on you. Trying not to be affected by them, not enough to avoid some of them as they cling to your mind - circling as a reminder.

“You deserve this, what did you think a man would want from a woman?”,

“you are better dead”,

“you asked for this”. Did you actually?

Sometimes he is the nicest guy around here. Showering you with tenderness and care, trying to have a normal conversation, but not daring to look into your eyes. Ashamed probably, which was bittersweet and pleasant, but confusing too. Like a couple. You promised yourself to not change the way you feel about him, even if he is sweet. Not like you have a lot of options now.

Certainly, Stockholm syndrome wasn’t going to avoid you, it didn’t take long either. You aren’t special and Leon looked so lonely, returning after work mostly devastated. The expression someone would have had while grieving over something not obtainable. Not even daring to look into your face, ignoring you until his hands do not reach the booze - drinking himself until his mood changes to a handsy one. Physical or sexual. Sometimes both. And Leon is lonely, he told it himself once. Naturally or not, anger has changed to pity, while hate is mixed with something affectionate towards him. You can’t help yourself.

As someone has said - from love to hatred is one step.

So the routine has become clear after a month of staying here, sitting on the floor and watching TV while Leon is behind you. Big brother is watching you - no, Leon is watching you. Drunk or not, monitoring whatever is on the screen is appropriate in his eyes. Not for too long you were concentrating on the blue gleam coming from the screen, illuminating both frames in the living room, now like a natural thing for you both - his fingers end up in your panties to rub your clit in slow and lazy circles. His chest is pressing against your back, focused on your expressions and squirming. His calloused fingertips press harder against your sensitive clit, to hear your voice. Your body is the biggest enemy here - like a Pavlovian dog, reacting to his touch quickly and eagerly. The skin of his fingers is wet and soaked with your slick already, in no time, filling the room with squelching and wet sounds as your moans become harder to keep to yourself. Writhing and trying to shift away, but your body tends to become immobile most of the time - there is no fight or flight, just freeze.

“You look so miserable. It is reassuring, so cute too” In misery, together. His tone is the one someone would use for a dog. Always using that one with you, but you are not a dog. Not like you have any other choices right now, other than taking like a good girl and not lamenting.

If someone would have asked you, Leon is shameless with you, not the one to be shy after a bottle of whiskey, even if he can’t get it up sometimes. His fingers nudge your soaked hole, which aches for his attention. It clenches around nothing, pathetically and you disappointedly whine at the emptiness inside you.

“Come on, open your legs, be a nice girl for Daddy” Leon cooed. His lips brush over your ear, not giving you a chance to do this by yourself - forcing your legs roughly to part wider. “So much better now”

Your hips shift, arching your back as his two fingers intrude into your pussy, curling sweetly inside it to push them at your favorite sweet spot - to enforce more moans at every jolt of pleasure hitting your body. Leon likes that, watching you squirm and open your mouth like a fish desperate for air cause of him. His grip on your jaw is tight, painful even - there are going to be bruises tomorrow and he will be apologizing like a madman.

“Daddy has been so miserable these days too, fucking Redfield is always hassling me.” You don’t know who is that. The sound of his hand fumbling with his belt and the fly of his jeans reach your ears, a loud noise of them falling on the floor. “Can’t even have a vacation, what would you do without me, baby?”

“Ughh…!” you choke on your moans. There is no thought behind your eyes, your entire attention is on your pleasure. Feeling overwhelmed at every thrust of his fingers, writhing in his hold while he is roughly pumping into your drenched hole, an uncomfortable wetness clings to your inner thighs - begging to fuck you already.

“Fuck, I am so sorry, sweetheart, but you are so wet. I can’t. Just the tip, okay? Sorry,” he groans breathlessly, giving hot and quick kisses on the side of your head. Sweet touch. His gaze darkens and his body presses harder against yours, feeling his erection press against your ass. “just… this hole is dripping, and you don’t look like you don’t want it”

You are so close actually, every thrust hitting your sweet spot, curling, and keeping the quick pace of his fingers make you almost drool while focusing on approaching orgasm. Too bad that isn’t on his to-do list. As much as he wants to see you cum, on his fingers or not, - his own pleasure is much more important, especially when his dick is hard. Whiskey dick isn’t so easy to get up these days. His fingers roughly withdraw from your soaked hole with a squelching pop, denying your orgasm. The emptiness returns and your sensitive pussy clenched around nothing again - aching to be filled again.

“So messy,” Leon mutters out, shoving his index and middle fingers in your mouth - forcing you to clean them, your tongue rolls and wraps around them, tasting yourself before he finally pulls them away. “asking for bad things to happen”

You can swear to God this made your clit throb. Wetter than you can ever be, or you are hallucinating, hoping this isn’t the case. Thoughts are quickly brushed aside when his cock is pressed in between your pussy lips, bumping against your aching clit while he rubs himself against your soaked and needy cunt that coats his flesh in your slick, lubing his length in it before he pushed his cock into you - Leon is not really a patient man. Yeah, just the tip, of course. Your velvety walls easily swallow his cock, stretching inch by inch with pleasant pain and letting it slide as he pushed in quick motion until his cock got buried deep inside you. Balls pressed against your flesh, while you can’t help but tightly clench around him, his chest is pressed against your back. Relishing how tight and warm is your pussy, the best and most calming feeling for Leon - to fill you with his cock for his own pleasure. Your hair gets tugged roughly, making your head roll back while Leon starts moving slowly. His cock drags against your walls, pulling out until only a tip remains inside.

“See? Only a tip” Leon mocks you, before slamming back in, bottoming out in one thrust. You whimper and squirm, but his hold on your hair is hard - the only way to keep you under his control. His hips start pounding into you, falling deep into the pleasure connecting your bodies. “Your pussy just feels so good, weren’t you made for this, mmm?”

His movements stutter as his pace slowens when his blue eyes make eye contact with the TV. You didn’t really catch on what was happening until his hand tugged your hair, directing your half-lidded gaze to the point of his interest. The sight of your image on the news, big words on the red background: MISSING PERSON. The former shelf of yourself is staring at you both, smiling brightly - not knowing there is no future for you. The volume is turned off. In this household, it is common knowledge that Leon doesn’t let you watch the news, every time getting agitated and avoiding you even more, when sober, which doesn’t last long after that. The mood swing was quick, every time it was like a loud thunderstorm, his hips make another thrust - cock hits your cervix and forces out a loud moan, involuntarily, when Leon’s cockhead grinds against it.

“This is bullshit, you know?” He hisses into your ear, giving another rough thrust to make you gasp pathetically, as he presses your head against the TV screen. “no one is coming for you. Why? Cause you are forgettable, baby, no one needs you”

“S-stop, Leon” you mumble in between moans and trying to keep yourself aware of what is happening. “T-too much, p-please!”

Your body feels like it is on fire due to the mix of emotions he provokes, your cunt grips his cock tightly while aching for your denied orgasm from before. His hand gives a hard slap on your sensitive clit, making you arch and flinch. Your pussy flutters, gripping him tighter.

“Shhh, I am doing a favor here” he mutters, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the news while his pounding grew more erratic, intensifying wet and flesh-hitting sounds. His voice is loud in your ears, muffling other sounds, overwhelming as his cock keeps making rough thrusts into you with every word - to punctuate them. “Keeping you here, taking care of useless you that can’t do anything right”

He buries himself deep again, pausing again to relish in the feeling of his cock filling you, while your wet walls engulf him nicely - like a drug, inviting him to stay there and never pull away. Slick drips down your thighs, and his nose brushes behind your ear before nibbling on the soft cartilage. His hand gives another light slap on your pussy, the tightness of your walls almost makes him cum.

“Maybe a baby, what do you think about it, mm?” The idea makes him throb, sliding in and out more erratically. As if he cares about your opinion right now, his fingers tug your hair harder, but his words make you flinch harder. Tears prick behind your eyelids.

“No-no-no. You can’t cum inside, no!” He is not wearing a condom. Bad, too bad. Begging comes out naturally for you now, in between your moans. Fear coats your voice, as the idea sets in quickly - being trapped here cause of an unfortunate kid. “Not the baby! Leon, please! I’ll be good, please!”

“Of course, I can. Shut up. You like this” Leon hisses, keeping your head in a firm hold, so your eyes are set on the old photo. It doesn’t feel right, but you can’t stop yourself from making noises, shifting so Leon would hit a better angle. This somewhat combines with a shame, at every hint of it your mind shoves it away. “You can’t look at yourself, too bad. Dripping even more after my words, like a whore.“

Wanting to cum, focusing more on the pleasure of his dick filling your hole - feels so wrong, but good. Like your body shouldn’t enjoy how Leon’s hips keep pounding into your soaked cunt, hitting the pudgy spot and making you repeat his name like a prayer, but your own mind and body are the biggest enemy, betraying you. His own balls tighten, as a reminder of his so soon approaching orgasm.

“You love me right, baby?” Leon whispers, voice coming out breathy and brushing against your ear shell. His calloused fingers crawl back to your clit, flicking and rubbing it roughly and unsteadily. Trying to keep the feeling of that warm tightness sucking in his cock.

“I love you, Leon, o-oh!” you hum, nibbling on the lower lip and arching, letting more noises when his dick hits your sweet spot so sloppily and messy now, chasing his orgasm. And him circling your clit with his calloused fingertips makes your legs tremble - so close to tripping and falling flat on the floor. This makes your mind fuzzy, shoving away the fear of being pregnant. Leon is nice, right? Nice enough to push you against the cold screen of the TV, it doesn’t have its use anymore. That photo faded with the news, after all. “I love you, love you,”

Your voice comes out shaky and high-pitched now. His eyes are set on your disheveled look, with light traces of tears as you repeat the confession erratically, filling his mind with them. Making this normal, you love him, so he can allow himself to not feel so guilty, right? With a final and rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, giving chaste and soft kisses to the back of your head. Your body shudders eventually too, your walls spasm harder around him as the hard feeling of orgasm hits you, pleasant shockwaves dumb every bad thought in the head. His cock throbbed, letting a loud groan and finally spurting ropes of cum into you while keeping messy circles on your sensitive clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you more overwhelmed with every flick. The warm essence fills your hole, Leon pulls out his softening cock with a wet pop, watching how his sperm slowly oozes out from your pussy. His mind is light, the hint of booze keeps guilt from emerging.

Words of love don’t feel like a complete lie now, as pleasant memories overwhelm the bad ones. They become almost an empty spot in the back of your mind, leaving only a foggy feeling of hate and dread. And your brain is weak for the bliss, hammering every moment deep in you - craving for more. Hate won’t bring you out of this, maybe affection will. Your hand grips weakly his wrist, you won’t be able to bear the loneliness after sex tonight.

“Don’t leave me” Your mouth is quicker than your mind, not processing anything right now. Leon breaks out in a weak smile, but his gaze isn’t capable of keeping eye contact right now. Still, he scoops you in his arms without a second thought. Remaining silent, feeling your weak body in his hold he can’t help but pepper chaste kisses on your forehead. Trying to prolong the sweet and guiltless moment for you both.

You should have known better than to accept that date with him.

[sheepispink]

The Perfect Pair

Masterlist AO3

WC: 7.6k Tags: fluff, marriage of convenience, leon kennedy/ reader

Summary: Leon can barely hold himself upright most days and you've finally decided to ditch the DSO life in pursuit of happiness. However, that'd mean leaving all those beautiful tax benefits and medical insurance behind. Turns out Leon and Chris are pretty persuasive, landing you as Leon's 'wife' but you cant help but start to feel something more, unaware that Leon's already set his eyes on you for life.

It’d been a long day at work, the usual really— Chris had roped him into dealing with another bioweapon appearance, thus leading him to take a helicopter to some trashy place, locating the bioweapon, and promptly knocking its freaky nature out of action. Now he lugged his weary feet home to the apartment you shared, his stomach craving a taste of something only your skilled hands would prepare for him. After a short elevator trip that thankfully alleviated the ache of his feet for a moment, he reached the front door and, with a quick fumble with the keys he had inserted the right one inside, opening the door.

“I’m home.” He calls out, his raspy voice filling the silent yet serene space before him. He somehow grew used to this; the sight of two sets of keys on the hook, the vast difference in style as he places his shoes on the rack, and the two coats on the bannister, one far smaller than the other. “Smells good..” He mumbles beneath his breath, making his way towards the kitchen where you stand, back facing him as you work your hands through a ball of minced meat.

“Welcome home.” You turn to meet his hungry gaze with your typical warm smile, heart warming at the exhausted look on his face and even more so that he’d soon find relief in the food you had made.

“You’re lucky, we had just enough mince meat in the freezer for your favourite beef burgers.” That was a lie. You had woken up early this morning and decided he had looked far too tired recently, and it’d been far too long since he’d had his favourite meal. So, as any good wife does, you wanted to make him feel better and took to the nearest supermarket, picking up all the ingredients you needed and some for a tasty dessert too. He always denied that he enjoyed sweet treats, but he would always be the first to finish them, whether it was a sweet chocolate mousse or a tasty doughnut you picked up on the way home.

He chuckles, his hand disappearing into his work jacket as he slips off the leather and lays it on the back of a wooden chair. It then migrates to his collar, tugging on it to alleviate the heat through his body, which is proven by the thin layer of sweat covering his limbs.

“Oh? Thanks, I was sure you finished it last week when you gave Kitty a gourmet meal for once.”

This home wouldn’t be complete without its resident cat, a Siamese fur ball that Leon graciously named ‘Kitty’ though he has no doubt referred to it with a million different names anyway.

“I guess I must've missed a bit. I really treated her for nothing.” While he was smirking, your mind was far from the lightheartedness of this conversation, currently panicking over his words. He had seriously caught you out there; of course you finished the mince, last week but was he actually accusing you of lying or worse—did he know? As you let out an awkward chuckle, he speaks up again, undoing his belt with one hand as his other grabs a glass from the shelf to fill with water. “I’m not complaining though; they really are my favourites for a reason.” He drinks down the glass of water in one swig, letting out a satisfied breath before rolling his shoulders back. “I’m gonna take a quick shower—I don't want to drown your nose with my sweat.” He chuckles again, finally leaving you alone in the kitchen again as he takes his path up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

To say your relationship with him was complicated was a massive understatement; it was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, feelings that felt illicit, and signals that were impossible to decipher. Well, for you it felt like this—you’re not so sure about him. In fact, for someone who sleeps beside him nearly everyday, cooks him meals, eats dinner with him, and even drops off his lunch, you barely knew anything about the man.

This all began when you decided to quit the DSO, finally having enough money to move to a more peaceful job with flexible hours and still end up supporting yourself. You had only worked in communications at the DSO, but that was still a pain in itself. Before you left, they had an informal work dinner. A bunch of agents and other workers came along to a diner for some food before heading to mess around at a karaoke place before the weekend hit. With so many people around, it grew far too hot too quickly, and you soon wandered the halls seeking a breath of fresh air before you heard your name called by an agent. The voice belonged to Chris Redfield–your superior—who was beckoning you to come over, cigarette in hand, to where he stood with Leon right beside him. They were both your superiors in the work field but were perceived as far more important due to the missions they accomplished and lives they saved.

“Yes..?”

You were more confused than scared or anything of the like—why did they even want to talk to you? It’s not like you often saw them. Even so, you walked over to them, trying to reduce the awkwardness when you slipped your hands into the pockets of your jacket, tilting your head slightly.

“You’re gonna leave soon, right?” Leon asks, taking a swig of the golden whisky in his glass whilst Chris blows another puff of smoke off to the side.

“Yeah, I wanted to move onto a different job, a quieter one that isn't so taxing.” You shrug, having only thought out a bit of it so far.

Chris and Leon shared a glance at each other before Leon spoke once more, rolling back his shoulders a little. “You see, I have a bit of a predicament, and Chris thought you could help.”

Before you know it, he’s explaining how busy his work is and that he barely gets home in time for a sip of water before he knocks out, and you’re not really sure how this is your problem until Chris butts in.

“So basically, he needs a wife. You, on the other hand, won't have any of the perks of the DSO since you’re leaving, which includes medical insurance, tax benefits..” He trailed off as you started to ponder it, you really would lose a lot of the things you had grown to exist around. It would be very difficult to manage, and you can't say you’d miss a lot of those perks greatly. The two men give each other a glance as you speak up, nodding along. “You’re right, I will miss out a lot, but I really don't want to stay here longer..” Before Leon can even try and slide it in, Chris has already blurted it out.

“Well, you won't lose anything if you marry him.”

So, after a bunch of awkward talks and surviving interrogations from your coworkers, you ended up with a small wedding, which was mainly done to please your own parents rather than yourselves. Now you’re here, almost a year into this non formal contractual marriage, and your feelings are muddled. Very muddled. It’s hard to not catch feelings when you’re somewhat of a hopeless romantic yourself, or maybe the teenage girl mentality came back full force now you have a lot more free time. You owed him a fair amount to be fair—he didn’t realise how stress-free your life was these days. Wake up, eat a healthy breakfast, maybe watch some television too, head down to the small little bakery you own and teach the part time teenager there before wrapping up at four o'clock and heading home again. Your skin had cleared up, you were actually able to sleep in on the weekends and actually do whatever you want— pick up new hobbies, eat proper meals, and read books to your heart's content.

What you’ve concluded is that your life has drastically improved and you are more relaxed than you’ve ever been. The problem with that is that with the new addition of all this free time and air to breathe in, you’re able to actually think about the man you’ve married. In simpler terms that you tried to deny for a year now, you’ve caught feelings—a lot of feelings for him. That’s why you’re currently stuck in a conundrum; you’re technically allowed to pursue said feelings, as you’re married and no longer ‘colleagues’ needing to act professionally, but does he want the same?

The pan starts to sizzle, snapping you out of your daydreaming as you place the flattened patty into the oil, lightly frying each side. Being his wife meant looking after him as much as he did to you, so cooking was often your chore to handle. Even though you were more than happy to do most of the chores, he’d still help with the dishes after dinner and often cooked when he could—when he was exhausted from another mission. Plus, he did his own laundry. He would’ve done yours too, though after the first time he tried, your cheeks had flushed immediately when he handed you a pile of your freshly washed underwear and t-shirts, and you quickly told him you’d do your own.

The staircase groans as he steps down the stairs, his movements a lot slower now that he had let the tension ease from his muscles in the shower. So far, you’ve managed to cook four patties, which was more than enough to satisfy his stomach and yours. But you had an extra two for his lunch tomorrow and because he tended to have a third burger “just because it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.That’s when you hear him curse softly under his breath, turning back to glance at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” His hair is damp, still dripping with water onto the white tee he wears. It’s loose and the one you bought him last month when you went on a shopping spree. You try to ignore the way your eyes naturally drift towards his chest; a small sliver of his pale skin peeks out where his hand disappears under his shirt, rubbing his abdomen in a strange way. “Did you get hurt?” You continue, turning down the heat on the hob so you can turn to face him better.

“Oh? This?”

He lifts the shirt a little, revealing the bruise on his right side of his stomach, and also gives you a perfect view of his toned abs. Damn. “It’s not as bad as it looks..” He mumbles, but his eyebrows are still knitted in a frowning gesture. “I’m annoyed because I missed an opportunity..”

That makes you blink, wondering what he could’ve missed in the time he went for his shower and came back here. Did he get a phone call? Or perhaps something happened this week you hadn't picked up on?

“An opportunity?”

“Yeah. I completely missed the chance to ask you, ‘What's cookin, Good Lookin?’. Damnit..”

Did the corniest line to ever exist really just make your chest tighten for a second?

You can’t deny the fact that the line itself had made your lips part as you stood there dumbfounded. Leon had a history with corny one-liners; in fact, whenever his colleagues happened to see you, they’d always mention whatever stupid thing he said during a mission. He’d say it to you occasionally too, usually random puns that he’d quietly snicker about, but he’d never quite openly flirt with you like that. Was it supposed to be a joke? Was it real? You couldn't tell, and so you quickly turned back around before your patties ended up burnt.

“O-of course only you would worry more about that than your own injuries.” His snickering is obvious behind you as you place the cooked patties onto a small plate. “Stop pestering me and go sit down at the table.” You feign annoyance, grumbling as you hide the furious flush of pink upon your cheeks. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t intend to give up that easily, walking up behind you and peering over your shoulder with his hands planted on the counter on either side of your waist.

“That was a good one, c’mon.” He argues, the most exaggerated pout on his face quickly disappearing when he watches the burgers sizzle in the pan. He loves your food so damn much.

“That was not a good one, shoo.”

Thankfully, he ends up leaving you alone in favour of Kitty, who had just woken up from her nap— eager to play with him even if it just means chasing after a wrapper he had thrown across the room. You place down two plates at the table, as per usual, along with a plate full of salad, a bowl of fresh chips you fried, and the small plate of patties— six to be exact. Then, you place down the two fancy glasses you bought last week and grab your usual favourite canned drink while grabbing a Coke Zero for him. Finally, you place Kitty’s dinner on the floor which she runs over for, immediately gobbling up the food. “She’s just like you.” You giggle, watching as she hungrily wolfs down the food, thus making him groan in return. “I do not eat like that.”

Dinner is the same. You’ll ask about his day in which he usually retorts in grunts and moans about the government, incompetent workers, and that woman.. Ada. Just the mention of her name used to make him go quiet back when you worked at the DSO, and even in the first few months of your “marriage”, he would shrug off the subject quickly. Now he talks about it here and there, mentioning how she suddenly appears and always seems to know his location. For some reason, it puts a sick feeling in your stomach, like someone is dragging their nails across the flesh of your insides.

“Ada.. was there. Ever since I saved the president’s daughter, it’s like she’s followed me everywhere. She helps me.. but then she claims to not care..?”

His words stopped registering in your mind after a while as your teeth grit against each other and you absentmindedly dipped your chip into ketchup over and over again. You can’t believe he could be so naive. She had played him once in Raccoon City, faking her identity and using him to her advantage. The same played out in Spain even if she ‘saved’ him. You didn't care about her damn motives; she worked for the enemy, and it irked you—she just used whatever she could to gain her benefit, and it seemed like no one could stop her.

“Earth to my beautiful wife, hello?” He waved his hand in front of your furrowed eyebrows and the obvious scowl upon your face. “You look like you just ate something you find disgusting. I thought you liked this too.”

You immediately realise you had zoned out, your face shifting to something sheepish before you finally stick the ketchup-soaked chip into your mouth. You didn't even get a chance to process what he just called you.

“No, it’s not the food; I was just thinking. Sorry, it’s nothing.”

That only serves to make him all the more curious, though he doesn't push it, instead continuing his story. “Where was I? Oh, right, then Ada shot—” He cuts himself off as your eyes immediately narrow, and you lower your head, picking with your food again subconsciously. It doesn’t take much to piece the clues together, his lips twitching upwards as a smile threatens to spread. Though he wants to test his suspicions one more time.

“Wanna hear something crazy? Ada tried to kiss me again.”

“What?!” You immediately sit up straight, the scowl returning just as fast and teeth grit, but it quickly softens when you see the smirk on his face.

“I knew it. You hate her, don’t you?” Leon always saw right through you, thankfully not with your growing feelings yet, and it made it all the harder to keep his marriage… Well, just as a contract.

“Fine, maybe I don’t like her. So what? She’s not exactly the most moral person.” You say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as you take a bite out of your burger and chew it down. “She helps Umbrella, can you really blame me?” That only makes his lips twitch again, and he leans his elbows on the table, eyes trained on every feature of your face.

“Are you jealous of her?” That almost makes you choke on the burger, and you have to take a large gulp of your drink to swallow down the rest of the food, your face immediately pinkening. It can’t be possible—there’s no way you’re jealous of that cunning, manipulative, hot, extremely hot woman. How did she even look that good?

“Ha— she should be jealous of me.” You scoff boldly, finishing the last of your burger soon after.

“Oh, and why’s that? Because you’re the one wedded to me?

A moment earlier, your heart would’ve described his face as a perfectly carved sculpture, the ones that people bid thousands to place in their homes because not showing off such a perfect creation would be a crime. Right now, he wore a sly grin with his eyebrows raised as he eyed you suggestively.

And that look was very punchable.

“Because I'm living the dream. I’ve got a bakery, a ton of free time, and I guess you’re there too, I suppose.”

With a roll of your eyes, you dismiss his words quickly, even though the faintest blush on your cheeks betrays your true thoughts. What if you said yes? What happens then?

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t give me that satisfaction.” He feigns a pout before his grin returns as he takes a massive bite into his second burger of the night. Of course, he just has to make an exaggerated moan, one elbow leaning on the table as the other covers his face dramatically.

“This is heavenly, you know? One day I swear I'll start dreaming about these burgers.”

There he goes again, babbling on about Lord knows what and his corny lines again. You can't help but flash a small cheeky smile, winking as you pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

“Another reason for her to be jealous of me.”

Once the dinner has been packed away by his speedy hands, he’s returned to make the couch his home again, stretching his whole body against the length of it like a cat would. You’re placing the dishes into your dishwasher before inserting a tablet and putting it on for three hours. As you walk over to wipe down the table, you notice his eyes have fluttered close as he groans and gets comfortable on the cushions. You can't say you didn't feel a tinge of affection—well, much more than that, like a heap almost—every time he crashed out like this, completely exhausted from a mission. “Weekend tomorrow..” You remind him with a gentle hum, swiftly removing any stray stains off the table. “Don’t you want to have a good sleep, y'know, in bed?”

He lets out a muffled grumble in response, burying his face into the cushions before he reluctantly sits up, making you smile a little more—you’d scold him regularly about lying down after eating. “What movie d’ya wanna watch?” He says even if he would usually wander his way to the bedroom after you said that. It’s been at least a month since you had been together like this to watch a movie. A lot had changed in that month, specifically your growing feelings for him. Perhaps distance really does bring fondness, you think.

“I don’t mind; you like action, no?” You finish wiping down the dirt from dinner to glance over whatever he’s doing on the television, only to find him flicking through your favourite genre of movies. Shoving down the warmth on your cheeks is near impossible as you speed walk back to the kitchen. Were these signs? Were you reading too much into it? Your teeth graze against each other nervously as you look up to see him waiting expectantly on the couch for you to join him. What the hell is happening right now? He had always gone to bed immediately or scrolled through his phone for a while— so what’s with the sudden change?

Moments later you’re sitting beside him on the couch, knees tucked to your chest as he presses play on the movie he picked—the one you had mentioned you wanted to watch when it first got announced that it was in production. Despite your excitement, you could hardly concentrate on the movie when he was practically centimetres from you. He was leaning back against the cushions, one arm resting around the back of the couch where you sat and the other comfortably against the armrest. If you had just moved your head back slightly, you would brush against his arm. If you did that, would he wrap it around your shoulders? Just the thought makes you shudder a little, your chin moving forward to sit comfortably on your knees. It was like you were a teenage girl again, sitting in the movies with your crush while you wondered if he thought of you as a friend or something more. You couldn't even believe you were acting like this—hell the two of you were married legally, not to mention you were both grown adults! Who cares if he had just stretched out his arms, his shirt riding up, and you could see the scars on his stomach? Your breath hitching when he had shuffled up to you was completely unnecessary; the warmth radiating off of him was irrelevant, no matter if the characters were kissing on the screen right now. You practically jump when he pokes your shoulder with his hand, your head snapping to him instantly, and you can barely even form a noise when you see how close his face is to yours. His eyes had to be one of your favourite things about him, or was it the messy mop of dirty blond hair on his head? It could even be the sharpness of his jawline, the lines of wear beneath his eyes, how perfectly his nose seemed to be carved, or perhaps, crazily enough, the way his voice rang out in your ears in the mornings.

“Do we have any dessert? I’m craving something sweet.”

Every step back into the kitchen is like torture from how hot your cheeks are, the cold fridge air doing nothing to soothe the embarrassment as you grab the microwave puddings you had bought today. You can't believe you had been so flustered by the proximity that all that had escaped you was a strangled noise before you just hurriedly nodded and escaped to the kitchen. Those five seconds between the poke and his words felt like a millennia— an incredibly romantically tense millennia— where for those whole five seconds, you stupidly thought he’d kiss you right then and there. You fan yourself as if that’ll soothe the metaphoric rush of warmth in your face right now, incredibly embarrassed by your own thoughts and desires. When you sit back down again, you quickly hand him the hot pudding and sit further away from him this time. If you even felt that again, you felt like you’d simply explode altogether.

Unbeknownst to you, he was now wondering if you were annoyed that he had interrupted, and he frowned as he glanced down at the plate with just a singular spoon. Weren’t you going to eat too? Not to mention, you were all stiff and sitting further from him than before—now you’re really twisting the knife in his heart. First he had agitated you by teasing you about Ada, then he laid on the couch right after dinner like you always told him not to do, and now you even refused to eat dessert! Maybe he isn't putting enough effort into all of this as he originally thought. After all, you did a lot to run a bakery in town and still cook, clean, and look after his cat. So, he decides to take a shot and scoops up a particularly chocolatey part of the pudding, the part he always eats first, and holds the spoon up to your lips.

“I know you’re mad, but you can't deny this.” He plasters his typical boyish grin, nudging your lips with the metal of the spoon. But he’s caught off guard when you pull back in surprise, waving your hands around frantically in denial. “H-huh? I ate a lot of sweet things today already—”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare even say you’re on a diet either; you’re perfect already.”

He pushes the spoon against your lips which you accidentally part in surprise at his words, the warm chocolate filling your mouth immediately like an instant boost of serotonin.

“See, it's good, told ya.” He says smugly as you swallow down the tasty pudding and sauce. That’s only for a moment before he notices the smudge of chocolate around your lips from his struggle, casually wiping away the crumbs with his thumb before licking it.

He had just wiped the crumbs.

He wiped it from your lips.

He wiped it and then licked it off his hand.

He didn't even think twice.

“I-its not bad-” That was all you could mutter out before he committed the crime, and now you were left dumbstruck as you watched him casually lick his thumb and then take another spoon of the dessert—the same spoon you just ate from. He leans back against the couch again, about to shove another in your mouth once he gets comfortable enough, though he quickly realises that you still haven’t spoken since. “You can’t still be mad; I’ll shove another one in your mouth, you know—” At that, you know you’re sure to blurt out the truth, and you scramble up, about to make an excuse about needing a glass of water, before your wrist is caught in his hand, and you’re promptly pulled back against the couch again.

“Hm? Where are you going, pink cheeks?”

He says it teasingly, instantly making you flush all the more. You couldn’t understand how anyone could even be so casual about these things, not that you had little experience in the area, but seriously— he had literally just licked the chocolate on your face. That was an indirect kiss!

“Do you do this with all your friends?” The frown on your face is suddenly a little harsher, accusing, and suddenly there's a hint of betrayal. That only serves to confuse him more, you’ve been acting off for a while now, had he cheated in his sleep or something? “What? You’re not my friend, though? That's not comparable.”

He doesn't even see you as a friend? You can't help the way your heart drops in a way you’ve never felt before in your life; it almost hurts the way he can just so easily dismiss you after all the time you’ve spent together—contractual or not. “I- I see how it is..”

“See how what is? You’re not making much sense.” His eyes narrow as you suddenly turn your head away from him, arms crossing firmly on your chest, but what doesn’t escape him is the sudden daze in your eyes. Gently, his hand grabs your chin, squashing your cheeks as he forces you to face him, and his mind instantly clicks all the pieces together.

“.. (Name).” He says firmly, making you let out a small hum in acknowledgement, unaware of the way your eyes are suddenly a lot wetter than they had been before.

“What did you drink earlier?”

“What? All I drank was water, mostly.”

“What about when I told you about Ada, was that water?” Your eyebrows furrow as you hear him repeat her name again, immediately growing more frustrated. “What about her now?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, wrapping a firm arm around your shoulders before he forces you to settle against the couch against him. “You drank some of my drink, didn't you? You were way too annoyed to even notice the whiskey I mixed in.”

The thought immediately clicks into your head; everything is suddenly a lot clearer now, even though you still weren't quite sober yet. Plus, you were pretty much a lightweight when it came to his strong stuff. It perfectly explained the warmth spreading through your chest, the uncoordinated actions, and the way nothing seemed to follow the way your head wanted it to. “S-still, you said I’m not even your friend.” Gently, his thumb rubs the tears that have formed in your eyes and tucks you close into him with his arm snugly around you. Just in case you decide to face plant off the couch as you seemed to want to do before. “You’re not my friend; you’re my wife. Who else would I treat like that?”

“I’m not your real wife though.” You slowly look up at him, turning your head, so your glossy eyes can stare up into his, searching for the right answer— the truth.

“Those papers seem pretty real to me. The way I feel is also pretty real to me.”

He grins at you like he hadn't doubted that fact for a second, and he hadn't, not since you both had signed and received the certificate, one he sometimes sneaks a small fond peek at whilst you’re sleeping. Not that he’d tell you, at least not yet.

“But— I’m not your wife; that’s my title, but I don't act like that.”

“So? I still love you as anyone would with their wife; do you really think I wouldn't fall for you? You’re even more perfect than I imagined.”

You’re momentarily stunned into silence, not quite expecting that but still not believing it quickly, your tipsy mind making you say things that you never would before.

“That's because I do everything for you— not that I mind b-but, I just act like a good partner. You don't feel romantically for me.” You huff, your teeth gritting together as you pettily narrow your eyes at him. What you hadn't considered is that he’d tuck your hair behind your ears, carefully pull you into his lap, and take one of your hands in his. He fondles your hand beneath his, his thumb rubbing gently over the skin before he brings it up to rest on his cheek, smiling fondly at you.

“I’ve been busy, I know. It’s quite hard having an agent as a partner, no? I already regret all the love I've lacked to give you.” This time, you’re positive that your cheeks are reacting to him, breath hiccuping when he turns his face in your grasp. His lips press a kiss to the palm of your hand before intertwining that hand with his and holding it against his heart.

“You just had to go get tipsy, didn't you?” The warmth of his hand on yours as he squeezes it gently is like a drug, one that squeezes your heart at the same rhythm whilst his teasing voice dances in the air around the two of you.

“Not my fault you always have to have a glass with dinner..” You grumble, not happy with how fast he had proven you wrong even if he had just confessed to his deepest feelings. He finds it quite endearing how stubborn a little bit of alcohol can make you. ”Alright, we can blame me for this one. How about you finish this pudding with me, and we can get you settled in bed, how does that sound?”

Before you know it, he’s wiping chocolate stains from your lips again as you sniffle in his lap, mumbling some nonsense about your so-called lack of lovelife while the movie plays in the background. He enjoys all your little comments about the movie, even when you subconsciously glance back at him when the couple starring do something romantic. Taking you up to bed is easy enough considering you’re only just bordering tipsy at the moment and you hardly weigh anything compared to the things he usually deals with. Your head just lolls lazily as he helps you upstairs, your eyes slowly blinking up at him when he sits you on the edge of the bed. “What pajamas do you want, pretty girl? How about your favourite?” The water he helped you drink before had sobered you up a little so you’re starting to feel better already. However, your mind is still a little hazy so you just nod along, not minding if this is the first time he undresses you.

Making sure to be gentle with you, he strips you down to your underwear before helping you pull on your warm sweatshirt and plaid pants. His lips twitched upwards when your own fingers tried to beat him with dressing yourself, finding it adorable how you still insisted on doing everything yourself. He could just put you to bed, but after watching for countless nights how you slave away at your skincare routine and keeping your teeth brushed well— he’d feel awful if he broke that. Before you know it, you’re sitting on the sink as he gently holds your jaw, his other hand using the electric toothbrush to clean your teeth. You’re a little uncooperative, swerving your head away at first until you just settle into a sleepy calm and he handles you with no problems. In no time he has you back on his lap, sitting at your small vanity as he carefully attempts to remember the order of your night time routine. What even is this? He thinks as he picks up a suspicious looking serum, labelled as snail mucin and gives it an experimental sniff. He thought it’d smell worse to be fair.

“No, you have to put the toner first and then the serum.” You mumble at him, gently tugging at his hands with your fingers and before he knows it, you have a toner pad all up in his face, wiping over his nose and cheeks before you cover the rest of his face.

“Hey- i’m meant to be doing your skincare. I don't need this stuff.”

He almost feels a pang of hurt in his chest as you raise an eyebrow at him, as if accusing him of having bad skin. With a huff, he removes the toner pad from your hands and throws it in the bin before gently pulling at your cheeks. “I have great skin, thank you. Dont give me that look.”

You immediately frown and attempt to puff your cheeks, causing him to have mercy and let go before he grabs a new toner pad and repeats your actions to yourself.

When you come back to your senses, your head is smushed against a pillow whilst he changes by the closet behind you. Your thoughts don't feel as hazy as they used to be, and you’re even starting to contemplate everything that happened earlier. Did he really mean what he meant? Did he actually like you.. romantically? You physically cringe at your own thoughts and hide your face behind your hands, groaning just quiet enough that he doesn't quite hear it. Sleeping next to him had always felt odd to you, but you always slept at different times so it never really felt romantic in any sort of way. You liked to stay up late and he liked to get a decent rest before the next morning. It was only recently that you started glancing at his sleeping face beside you, admiring the peace in his expression when he lost himself to his dreams and no other worries. Otherwise, it just felt like a roommate, nothing more nothing less.

But now his trousers were falling to the floor behind you, and you were laying in bed not quite falling asleep nor attempting to stay up. Suddenly, he wanted to sleep with you, not only beside you. It suddenly felt all too real that you two were actually married, actually partners and actually slept beside each other each night. What next, were the notes you left in his lunch romantic too? In truth, you were slightly freaking out but that might’ve been the alcohol making things a hundred times worse than they should’ve been, especially since you had started crying unannounced earlier. That’ll play in the back of your mind forever but for now you’re focused on his soft footsteps as he approaches the bed, dressed in a much looser shirt and pants. He always slept like this but this time he looks down at you, one finger gently poking your cheek as he sits on the other end of the bed.

“I actually prefer to sleep with my shirt off. But we always fell asleep at different times so I never got to ask your permission.”

He hums quietly, the finger now gently rubbing along the soft curve of your cheek instead.

“You can.. I don't mind.” You say quietly, eyes trailing over his form as he settles himself against the headboard right beside you. Touching you.

“Are you sure your cheeks won't get too red?”

He teases, hand moving towards the top of your head to gently card his fingers through your locks. You push yourself up to a sitting position, letting out a soft yawn as you do so before you blink at him hazily again. This time, you press forward and place your hand on his abdomen, absentmindedly rubbing your finger there back and forth. “I want to see your injuries.”

Not even he can stop the way his face softens at that and he tucks you into his side again, his other hand pulling the shirt up and over his head to discard onto the carpet beneath the bed. This view is only for you: his paled skin, the fresh scars, the old scars, fading bruises and fresh bruises, stitches that fall out and others that are pulled tight but most of all, his body. All for your eyes only, only for you. Your hand runs gently over the outline of his newest bruise, a deep purple that covers the entire expanse of his hip. It’s blooming into something worse and you’re sure it’ll hurt more tomorrow, not that he’d ever complain about that anyway. “You always come home with injuries, and you just play them off. Don't they hurt? Don't you want me to care for you?”

You say quietly, voice even softer now that you’ve sobered up, and he just lets out a breath, his face turning to watch the way your brows furrow and your lips press together. To have someone fuss over him like this is something he never thought about much, but it didn't mean he hadn’t craved the idea before. Yours was genuine worry, and you always held that genuine care for him. But it felt different now, more natural, more intimate. Like he was the only one you would worry about like this— he loved that feeling.

“I don't ever want you to worry about a thing, even if I do like the way your eyebrows crease when you do.” He chuckles softly, leaning down to press his lips affectionately against your hair before sitting back up properly again. “I suppose if you really want to.. I couldn't deny I'd be flattered to have you care for me.” The curve of your lips is what makes him smile as well, finding it all too endearing how easily a grin can form on your face.

“You’re such a flirt..” You mutter, trying to play it off and wiggle out of his hold on you, only serving for him to raise an amusing brow at you. “I’m only making up for what I can’t do to a tipsy girl.”

“I’m not tipsy..” You argue, sitting up a little straighter which makes his arm gently rest on your lower back instead.

“Oh? Really now? Let me test you then, since I used to be a policeman.”

“Fine, give me what you’ve got.”

“Sing the alphabet backwards if you’re sober.”

You instantly splutter, shaking your head quickly.

“Hey! Not even a normal person can do that. I knew you didn't actually like me.” He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes up at your grumbling, squashing your cheeks to make you shush.

“Is it really a crime that I don't want you to forget our first kiss because of some stupid whiskey?”

“Your stupid whiskey.” He finally rolls his eyes at your retort, gently pushing you back into bed and pulling the covers up and over you. “Alright fine, my stupid whiskey. Now, be honest with me, are you sober?”

The little frown on your face has disappeared with the hope his question brings, and you nod quietly, wide eyes looking into his.

“Are you very sure?” You were definitely sober now, his voice immediately lowering to a rasp as his hands travel up to cup the soft curves of your cheeks as they begin to turn pink. Just like that, he’s the man you’ve fallen for all over again, soft strands of fair hair framing his chiselled face as if they’re perfectly placed to put you under his spell. His index tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, gently rubbing the skin of your cheek with his calloused thumbs. His skin is so rough and yet you can't help but feel he is so soft at this moment; his eyes are like gentle waves, looking at you so fondly that you finally remember to reply.

“I-i'm sure.”

He doesn't hesitate, leaning in closer until his nose just touches the tip of yours, eyes locked onto every small movement you can even think about doing. “Can I?” The nod you give is the green light he’s always dreamed of; this day is all he has ever thought about since you joined his life. You let your eyes flutter closed, feel the warmth of his breath that tickles your skin as he draws closer and closer until his lips meet yours so gently. You have to physically stop yourself from giggling, probably the alcohol still trying to make a fool of you, but you just can't believe he’s the one wrapping you in his touch. Likewise, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he lets out a small gasp when you suddenly gain the strength to meet him upright, almost as if you’re threatening to pin him instead. Of course, he couldn't just let that slide easily. So, as anyone would, he pushes you back down into the mound of pillows, causing you to squeal as he leaves his touch all over your face, fleeting kisses painting your skin a rosy red. “You better not forget this in the morning.” He scoffs playfully as your eyes squeeze shut, giggles that spill out your mouth while he gives the affection he’s craved to gift to someone for years.

His job is hard, his life has been hard, and even this marriage initially felt the same. It wasn't so much the fact that he had essentially tied himself down to someone he barely knew, it was the realisation that he would never find his one person. That's why he did this after all, it seemed like it’d benefit the both of you and the day where he’d actually have a woman by his side slipped away with each mission. You, you were different though. You may have been an agent before, but outside of work you were the sweetest thing. Always subconsciously fussing over him, delaying sleep to prepare his lunch no matter how much he insisted you didn't need to, taking a personal duty to look after his cat, and still not being afraid to ask him when he seemed low or uncomfortable. You were everything he never had, even the annoying nagging of trying to get him to not lay on the couch after he ate or the fact that's his third whiskey yet.

Corny lines, the occasional flirty remark, dragging you to watch a movie— he wanted to do all of that before so you’d become actually his, actually the one he could say he loves and loves him back. But things got in the way, life got in the way, and he was starting to see his opportunities dissolve with each tired return from the mission. Despite his grumpy attitudes some days, his exhausted look as he collapsed into bed at eight, you still managed to fuss over him all the same— never once did you treat him differently, if not for the fact you’d cook him a slightly nicer meal after missions.

He was still busy, yes of course, but somehow he had managed to win you over. Maybe it was his silly jokes, though he’d seen you stare at his hair many times before so maybe that caught your eye. In any case, he’s happy to give any part of him to you, if not all of him. So when he’s pressed the last kiss on your nose and pulls the covers high over you, he tucks you into his chest, a final kiss to your temple as he looks down at your angelic expression. The way your smile curves at literally nothing but his touch is enough to make him fold right there, but he doesn't right now, squeezing you against him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

He whispers out, and you can't ignore it, eyes snapping up to look at him just from those three words. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the way they question the truth and if this really is real. Then you nod slowly, tuck your head into his chest, nestled against the beat of his heart.

“I love you too.”

[luverine]

𓇢𓆸 Ache

Mdni

Every waking moment is torture around you, away from you even.

He looks at you across the dining room, your smile, body, mind, energy. He can’t help himself.

Admiration is one thing but he is devoted to you, though you have no idea, his heart aches In silence.

The air from his lungs feels foreign, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you, his body craves your touch.

At night the yearning is unbearable, the room feeling too cold and too warm without you, he’d do anything, anything for you to give him a sliver of a chance at your love.

You look back at him in the dining room, your hands tremble,he’s so intimidating, so distant, yet you’d do unspeakable things, just to call him yours.

If only.

Levi, Erwin, Jean, Reiner, Leon, König, Aizawa

Likes, comments, reblogs appreciated ‹𝟹

Inbox open!

[fawninthesnow]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛: One Shot

𐙚 Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+

Summary: You and your subordinate, Leon, get trapped in an elevator.

Warnings/contains: enemies to lovers, sub! male, dom fem, slow-ish burn, oral (fem reciv!), nipple play, teasing, feet kink, constriction, physical restraints, mentions of past relationship, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 3k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

He tapped his forefingers on his desk and attempted to avoid eye contact with the clock. ‘Only thirty past one? You must be kidding me!’ He thought to himself as the day seemed to drag by. His right heel bounced on and off the office carpeting. Through the glass windows of your office, and with rather annoyed eyes, you glared at him. At this point, he wasn’t even *pretending* to do work!

‘Leonardo Scott Kennedy!’ You thought as your ears grew warm.

You turned your attention to the man across from your desk. “We will prioritize the hostages when it comes to the press, Admiral Macklemore.”

“It is my understanding that whatever information enters this office…does not leave.”

“In this case, such information will not leave my desk.” The older man chuckled, extending a hand across the desk to you. You shook his hand passionately as you stood.

*

“What are you doing out here?” Leon gasped and quickly hid his lighter and pack of smokes. In the alley beside the office building, you folded your arms, staring down at him. “I asked what you were doing while on MY clock?”

“Yes, I know, I- I just need a break.” He wouldn’t dare try to light his cigarette now that you were here.

“You have just come back from lunch.” The fold of your arms got tighter. “Look, I—Leon. I am trying my best to help you out.” The man leaned back onto the brick wall behind you; your back was turned to him. “Don’t you think you owe me this? For putting you back on your feet?” You asked without looking back at him.

“I’m doin’ what I can, [].”

He pulled the cuffs of his sleeves down and slipped his coat on. You turned around and frowned at Leon. “I want you to go home for the day.”

He rose off the wall, “Wait. I- I’m sorry! But I cannot go home.”

“You are fucking with my image; again. Just go home for the day.” You walked past him and made your way into the office building. He quickly followed you and took your arm into his clutch, “Leon.”

“[Y/n]. Please.” His chest heaved with urgency. Seeing his hurt and confused expression only irritated you. The elevator doors opened, and you hit your heel against the wedge, keeping it open. Your body leaned onto him as you read his expression.

“Let go of me.” You whispered. He pulled from you and stood by your side in the elevator. In silence, you glared at his reflection in the metal doors. He looked at your reflection with shame.

“I wish you would give me a second to explain myself.”

“Tsk.”

He turned to you. “That’s it? That’s all I get?” You continued to face the doors of the elevator, begging them to reach your floor so you could leave. “You don’t exactly make this work environment ‘Leon-friendly’.”

“What an ungrateful thing to say.” A sly smirk on your lips as the elevator doors opened. He moved in front of you and pushed his fingers on the emergency close button. You grumbled as the doors shut once again and began its travel to the first floor upon his request. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You want me to fail.”

You laughed to yourself before a nervous chuckle left your lips. “I- no! Of course not!”

“[Y/n], I am not dumb. You want me to leave the military.” He said gruffly, an annoyed edge to his tone. You stepped back into a corner and folded your arms. “What is your problem?”

“My problem? Hmm, I’d say: my disobedient employee.”

“I am more than that to you, [Y/n].” He swiped his thumb over the corner of your lips. You pulled from him. “We used to be partners.”

You shook your head. “We were *partnered*, there is a difference. You hated working with others. That is why I am—”

“Behind a desk?”

“No! You are. I am head of Security for the—”

“Temporarily. Even so, it means nothing to you. You would rather be in the field too, don’t lie to yourself!” You turned your back to him and pressed every button on the elevator. Anything to make this stop! You lifted your fingers from the buttons and stared at the numbers on the screen. “Look at that…” Leon stood behind you and put his hands in his pockets. Your eyebrows furrowed as the numbers blinked. “You…broke it.”

“W- what? What the fuck?!” Your hair flipped quickly as you turned around to him. “How do we get off?!” He shrugged. “No…no!” You turned over your wrist and read the time on your watch. “I have a meeting!” He said nothing as you panicked and fished in your skirt pocket for your pager.

He watched as your pencil skirt held your waist and pulled with the tug of your fingers. “No service in an elevator.”

“Perfect.” You tapped your heel, “No, this is just perfect! Once again, you have proven yourself as a nuisance!” He rolled his eyes along with you.

On either side of the elevator, you two leaned back onto the wood paneling. Your gaze was on the wall beyond Leon and his eyes were on you. Around fifteen minutes had passed by now and no call to the elevator came. No one knew about the broken elevator nor where you or your subordinate were. “You critique me harshly.” Leon said to break the silence.

“Think of it as my way of looking after you.” You crouched onto the floor and settled your back against the wall once more.

He looked down at you. Even so, from your crouched position, you still held his attention in a chokehold. “That right? Thank you, mommy dearest.” He said with a lick of sarcasm. You smiled and kicked your heel off towards him. He caught the shoe and sat on the floor of the elevator. You observed him as he studied your heel. “Saint Laurent. Six inches…? Why do you need to be so high off the ground? You are tall for a woman.” He tilted his head; blonde hair fell over his eye.

“I do not think of such things when I am shopping.”

“Yeah? Because these are custom.” He turned the shoe to her; the commercial tags were all gone, as well as the label. “So, some thought must’ve been put in.”

You took your shoe back from him. “Do not profile me. I am not your friend. I clear your checks.” You reminded him before turning away from his blue eyes.

“Right.”

Minutes passed and the temperature rose slightly in the elevator. Leon removed his coat and tossed it to the side. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse and fanned yourself. He watched as the flap of your collar rose and fell with the wind created from your hand.

“Would you like me to help?” He glared at your breasts; you weren’t too fond of wearing bras. As you sighed, sweat ran down your tits and to your abdomen where it was caught by your shirt.

“In what way can you be of use, lapdog?” You sighed and stood by the panel of buttons beside the elevator doors. You took off your other shoe and placed it in the corner. His eyes shifted to your feet in your tanned stockings. One heel was lifted and the other planted. “Stop watching me.” You said softly as you used a pen from your blouse to pry at the paneling. His firm and warm bulge pressed on the front of his pants; his hands covered the sight. He squeezed his red knuckles and try to calm his curiosity, his filthy imagination.

He grew warm under his shirt and dropped his gaze. “I apologize.” Leon attempted to stay as still as possible, however, the harder he tried, the more he twitched.

“Come help me.” He rose from off the wall and kneeled beside your legs. “Do your best to fix this.”

He scratched his scalp before revealing the cords. “T- there isn’t much I can do if I- uhm,” You crossed your legs and leaned over him. “A…breaker.” Your hair reached his; your dark hair overlapped his.

“A what?”

“Like uhm, the thing with the rows of switches.”

You rolled your eyes, “You and I both know that you can do something.”

He looked between you and the many wires. “But I don’t. Listen-“ He tried to stand, but lost his balance. You grabbed his arm and held him still. His cock rubbed down in his pants, gently massaging his shaft before he adjusted himself. When you pulled him upright, his sleeves rubbed against your stockings.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just lightheaded.” You looked up at the ventilation ceiling paneling.

“You’ll be ok.” You rubbed his shoulder. “Just try your best.” He sighed under your touch and relaxed his shoulders. He was used to this when he was partnered with you. Your words of encouragement filled his ears as he worked on whatever task you gave him. He messed with the paneling for a short time before the numbers stopped flashing and the lights to all the floors shut off. He turned to you before the lights of the elevator shut off.

You looked around the elevator before using the light from your pager. “We might be stuck in here for a while longer, Leo.” He turned his gaze to the floor immediately and began to breathe in and out of his mouth. “Relax, I am sure now that the power is out, security will be alerted.”

He covered his mouth as a pant slipped out of him. He leaned back against the wall and observed your face in the light of your pager; the streaming light was a way to see the shape of your body in your curvy shadow. You are feminine like that, alluring in that manner; it was hard to keep his gaze from you. Just the way you filled your clothes; any slick comment would roll off him. He lusted you, still does. It was embarrassing. All this time and yet he still hasn’t fucked you. The guys on the taskforce would clown him for it because fortunately, you weren’t *easy*, and unfortunately, he was.

Say the word, give him the greenlight and he would drop his pants with no hesitation. But it was that part of him you knew and hated so much. You like the chase, the hunger.

*

You sat on the floor, and he stood in the adjacent corner. He managed to relax his bulge and his nerves. There was no saying how long it would be until someone came! He looked at you, your skin looked wet with sweat, some strands of hair stuck along your collarbones, neck and forehead. He noticed hair that stuck to your bosom and how it curled on your unbuttoned blouse.

His own blonde hair stuck to his forehead and down his neck. “How are you feeling?” Your pager rested in the middle of the floor as a beacon.

“Cool as a cucumber.” You muttered. He kneeled by your side and undid the cuffs of your sleeves and rolled them up your arms. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“…I don’t want you to leave the military.” He listened as you undid the cuffs on his sleeves and raised them. “I am making no progress. You’re right. I don’t want to be surrounded by the same things as when I was on the taskforce.”

“Things? You mean me.”

“Whatever I do, I can’t get away from you.” He sat against your wall, and you stood. “That was not an invitation…”

He grumbled, tossing the idea over in his head before giving in to the urge, “Are you seeing anyone?”

You turned your eyes to his strong forearms; the black ink from his tattoos covers his tanned skin. “No.” You folded your arms and turned away. Sweat went down his temples as his head rests on the wall. “Has someone made their unfortunate way into your life?” He could only muster a smile as he scratched his head.

“Lines of ‘em.” He spoke back into your sarcasm. “Did you send for me?”

“Hm?” You turned your attention back to him.

“Did you make the request? For me to be in your office?” You were silent as you watched him closer. His blue eyes peered up at you from his position on the floor. “I’ll take that as a no.” He looked disheveled and you were sure you looked the same. “Contrary to what you believe, I am grateful to be here. I like seeing you every day, [Y/n].” He glared at your thighs, held so gently by the stocking up your legs.

“Oh? That’s interesting.”

“Why are you so…baseline with me?” His eyes flickered to your breasts for the first time in a few minutes.

You laughed, “I keep it simple.” A sigh left your mouth as you wiped sweat from your forehead.

"You’re scared of getting close to me again.” You shook your head and looked at the elevator doors, “You think I’ll abandon you…or not show up like in the field.” You ignored him as if he said nothing. “Talk to me.”

“Jesus, let me out!” You screamed and kicked the elevator doors. Leon stood behind you.

“Stop that.” He pulled your arm and moved you.

“You are insufferable! Let go of me!” He wrapped you in a bear hug from behind, keeping you still. As you kicked around, your feet a few inches off the ground, he grew distracted by your stockings that now had a rip in them, from your ankle and up your thigh. Your skirt raised just enough for him to see the design of the lace around your thighs. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You looked down at his arms that tightly held your torso. Your breasts rest on top of his tattooed forearms. Your ass rubbed against his pants with no regard for how stimulating that could be. “[Y/n]. Relax.” He moaned softly. “W- We will get out of here soon.” You pried at his hands and kicked him in the leg. He held onto you firmly and stood his ground. “Stop fighting me.”

Leon put you in a corner of the elevator and pressed onto you tightly. After some time, you stopped trying to move from his grip. A few sharp exhales left your mouth as he continued to hold you there. Your breasts pressed against the cold metal wall and your nipples grew sensitive. “…you have a boner.”

Leon checked himself before pulling away from you. “I- I am sorry.”

The pager died and you two’s only light source was now gone. You stood side by side before you reached for his hand. Planting his callused palm on your breast, you trembled.

Leon let out a deep exhale and turned to you. Although he couldn’t see much, he knew your gaze was on him. He felt your hard nipple beneath his touch and began to explore for himself. The man rubbed over your blouse and massaged your breast carefully. It did not take long before he pulled you to him. Your back was to his chest as he took both of your breasts in his hands. The man moaned as you grind your ass slowly over his crotch.

He popped the buttons of your blouse and carefully moved his middle fingers over your nipples. Your hands rest on his knees as he pecks kisses onto your moist skin.

Maybe it was the temperature of the elevator or just the closeness of his body, but your hair began to frizz from the humidity. But something was wrong. This felt…wrong.

When you pulled from him, Leon immediately reached for you again. “Calm down.” His eyes shut as he felt your nails, and gentle fingers on the back of his neck. You pushed him down and he rested on his knees.

Leon gently unzipped the back of your skirt and pulled it off. A deep groan came from his throat when you wrapped a leg around his neck. He buried his face in your panties; his strong nose pushed into the wetness on the lace you wore. “Mhhhh~” His hands caress your ass and hips as he tried to pull down your panties. “Please.” He sounded so pathetic. You usually hated that but this time…his words were like sweet nectar flowing onto you. “Let me take them off,

“No.”

Your reply didn’t discourage him, his hands gripped you tighter as his mouth latched to your cunt. A shivering moan left your lips as he continued. His lips found your clit, gently sucking as you pulsed in his mouth. The lace didn’t discourage him either, eating your cunt through the barrier.

He lost himself in the sounds of your moans and whispers; the taste of your cunt, a slight taste of sweat from your thighs, and the feel of your soft skin in his firm grip. You held onto his hair to keep stable, both of your legs around his neck. Leon helps you up with his shoulders and rose you against the wall. “O- oh, my god~” He tore at your panties with his teeth, his jaw clenched with determination. “L- Leon!” You heard to the fabric rip and felt his tongue dive into your cunt.

His warm and thick tongue made countless passes through you as if trying to milk your pussy of all its juice.  Your eyes fell back into your head; not that he needed to see this, but he could imagine it as you let out those pretty, and breathless moans. If anyone *was* outside the elevator, they could hear you clearly.

When his soft lips grazed up to your clitoris, and left tender kisses, he slowly eased one digit deep inside of you. Your nails dug into his scalp and your thighs closed tighter around his head. “M- more.” You whimpered.

I'm off my hiatus!!

Dom Leon next bc i've been writing both of them at the same time. Tried something new with the feet thing lol.

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

[scarsrealm]

bundle of joy. | RE6 dad! leon scott kennedy.

<<<fluff>>>

***

You slept beside Leon, with your head on his chest and his hand resting on your back. You two were in a deep, comfortable sleep. Unfortunately, the perks of having a baby took that away from you and now you would frequently have to get up in the middle of the night to go tend to your daughter.

You and Leon both woke up to the loud sounds of your daughter crying, you sighed loudly realizing you had to get up. You sat up slowly but were soon met with Leon’s hand stopping you. “It’s fine, I’ll get her.” He said, tiredly. "No, Leon. I'll go, you can go back to sleep," You told him. "I can get her for you, you need the rest," Leon said, starting to get out of the bed.

"Leon, really, it's okay." You told him. Leon got up and stretched his arms, "No, babe, You have a shift in a couple of hours and you need to get your rest," He said, looking at the time on the digital clock on the bedside table. You smiled and laid back down in the bed, "Okay, thank you, baby." You said and gave him a kiss.

Leon smiled and kissed you back, "It's no problem, honey," He said. Leon yawned again as he made his way out of the room and into the nursery. When he reached the nursery he smiled seeing his little girl in her crib, "What's wrong, princess?" Leon asked. Her crying subsided a little and she just stared at him, he leaned over the side of the crib and picked her up.

He cradled her in his arms, she began to start whining again, "Hey, it's okay," Leon told her, bouncing her slightly. He walked around the nursery while holding her, "Let's see, are you hungry? No, I don't think so, mommy fed you not long ago." He checked to see if she had a fever and sure enough she did not.

Leon looked at his daughter and she looked up at him and began to cry again, "Oh, baby," Leon sighed. She continued to cry and he tried to calm her down by talking to her but it did not work, "Come on, baby, what's wrong?" He asked. He looked around the room for her pacifier, but he could not find it. "Damn it," He muttered under his breath. He walked out of the nursery and down the hallway to his and your bedroom.

He walked in quietly, not wanting to wake you up. He made his way over to your bedside table and pulled out the top drawer and grabbed her pacifier. He held her with one arm and placed it in her mouth, it calmed her down greatly and she stopped crying. Leon smiled and bounced her lightly, "That's my girl," He said, kissing her forehead.

"There you are, Leon," You said, smiling.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," Leon apologized, making his way over to the bed. You looked at your baby and smiled, "She's a daddy's girl, isn't she?" You asked, reaching out and touching her little cheek. Leon chuckled and smiled.

You and Leon smiled and admired the beauty of your baby, "You know, she really is something," Leon told you. You nodded in agreement and continued to look at her, "I never thought I would be a father, but I am now and I love it. It's like the best thing ever." He continued, his eyes not leaving his baby at all, he was in awe.

"You're so good with her, Leon. You're such a good father," You told him, your hand resting on his thigh. "I try to be," He said. He was still holding her, he looked over to you and smiled, "I think we should move the bassinet in here, we could make some space. What do you think?" He asked, smiling at you.

"Yeah, she seems to like being in our room," You said, smiling. Leon smiled too and looked back down at his daughter. He kissed her forehead, "You like being in here, huh?" He asked her. She cooed and started kicking her legs wildly, she thought it was playtime.

“Hey, what are you kicking me for, huh?" Leon said, in a playful tone. His daughter just looked at him and kicked her legs again. You laughed and smiled, "She just wants to play with her daddy."

Leon smiled and bounced her again, "Well, daddy needs to sleep, so let's go back to the bed, okay?" He said. He stood up and carried her out of the room and went to the nursery. He put her back in her crib, which she was not too fond of. She started whining again and Leon knew why, "Come on, honey, you have to go to sleep," He said, stroking her hair.

He picked her up again and she calmed down a bit, "Shh, shh, it's okay, baby," He soothed her, rocking her gently. She quieted down after a while and Leon smiled, he looked down and saw that she had fallen asleep. He put her back in her crib and tucked her in, "Goodnight, sweetheart," He whispered.

He looked at her sleeping peacefully and he smiled, he thought she was the most beautiful thing. He turned off the lights and quietly left the room, he shut the door and walked back to the bedroom. You were still in bed when he came in, you were trying to go back to sleep. "She fell asleep," Leon said.

You looked up at him and smiled, "That’s good."

Leon nodded and got back in bed, you snuggled up against him, "I can't wait until she starts walking," You said, wrapping your arm around his torso. Leon chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "I can't wait either," He said, he looked down and kissed the top of your head. You smiled and laid your head against his chest, "I love you, Leon," You told him.

"I love you too, baby." He responded, kissing the top of your head once again. You and Leon laid there, falling asleep together and you could not have been happier.

***

a/n: you guys need to write more of re6 leon (btw i LOVE dad leon)

[duvernost]

just a little nibble….. @donnasmeatballs

[icarustypicalfall]

Exciting don't you think?

masterlist • ao3 • follow for more

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

summary he is too oblivious to notice, bless his foolish heart and pretty eyes.

warnings re2 leon Kennedy, sorta open ending? fluff, mentions of murder and serial killing, short drabble :3

note my hyper fixation is alive y'all, i am not over the infinite darkness leon, but re2 leon is so sweet. sorry if it's inaccurate this is one of the rare times where i post something other than the cod fics. enjoy and ily

**

“[he] is only slain by stab after stab, and loves on till the last drop of life blood drips away”

Raccoon City, what a magnificent place to be! The soft notes of jazz filled the air, permeating your car as you gracefully cruised through the night. Darkness reigned, with a sprinkling of stars and a glowing moon casting its ethereal light upon the road. It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible when we are young.

Ah, speaking of youth, you spotted a youthful-looking police officer on the side of the road, gesturing for you to pull over.

Darn it.

Trouble was certainly brewing. You were well aware that the curfew had already passed, a precautionary measure implemented by the government to safeguard citizens from a recent spate of serial killings. They were secretive about the details, as always.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced in the rearview mirror. Thoughts raced through your mind as you turned off the engine, coming to a halt just as the officer approached your vehicle.

Taking a moment to double-check the weapon holstered at his side, the officer—Leon, made his way towards you. A gentle cough escaped his lips before he rested his forearm on the window, knocking lightly to signal for you to lower it.

As you complied, a sweet smile adorned your face, emitting an aura of innocence. The cold breeze crept under Leon's skin, causing him to shiver. He couldn't help but be captivated by your alluring smile and daring attire, a testament to your mischievous nature. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, his heartbeat quickened as he mustered the courage to speak, attempting to avoid any stammering. "Your registration and identity papers, miss.."

You obliged, handing him the requested documents and, for a fleeting moment, your fingers brushed against each other. Your mischievous self reveled in his bashfulness, as his cheeks flushed, and he retreated to his patrol car to inspect your records. Meanwhile, you remained still, leaning against the window with an impish grin.

Leon returned, his voice barely above a whisper as he returned your papers. "It is past curfew, miss. May I know why you are out?"

Your smile grew wider as you locked eyes with him, finding him rather intriguing. His baby blues avoided your gaze as he fidgeted with the door. With a grin, you replied, "I was with a friend, officer. I assure you, I am a good girl."

Leon gulped, nervously rubbing his neck as the blush continued to stain his cheeks. These formalities were unfamiliar territory for him, making him all the more flustered. Softly, he whispered, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he leaned closer to the window. "Alright, miss... I mean, call me Leon."

You asked, finding the play rather too attempting not to."Tell me Leon, do you always work alone so late?"

He shook his head, feeling his insides flatter with warmth, none had really shown interst in his job before. He replied in a hushed tone still smiling.

"No, I usually don't work alone at such late hours. This is my first time."

Ah, still so young, you thought to yourself.

No, not him.

You nodded, sealing his cheek with a tender kiss. Leon blushed once again, pulling away and watching in awe as you started the car. "Take care miss!"

He called out, and you laughed, "I do enjoy a little danger, Leon."

He observed as you drove off, his heart fluttering with an unfamiliar sensation. Unfortunately, he was oblivious to the crimson stain on your shirt or the axe resting in the back seat.

The following morning, Leon couldn't believe his eyes when he saw your picture in the newspaper. The headline screamed of the capture of the notorious serial killer who had slain a cop while being stopped during the curfew.

You did that in order to silence the persistent officer who had stopped you right after Leon. Caught red-handed, the only thing on your mind was those mesmerizing baby blues... too precious, too angelic. You contented yourself with leaving a mark on his cheek and etching a core memory in his heart.

[bitbugbites-re]

𝙿𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔞 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Game nights are fun. Especially so when you mix "Sex Chocolates" and Go Fish.

a03 link

word count: ~2.7k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // aphrodisiacs, kissing, neck kissing, foreplay, vaginal sex, no use of y/n, reader-insert, sex chocolates??? not even finishing a game of go fish smh

a/n: do my author notes boost my aura. be honest guys

p.s. -- if you’re only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

“Is this elephant blue?” the man beside you questioned, his slimy facemask beginning to lift at the edges that covered his stubble-coated jaw. 

Raising a brow, you glanced at the card he was observing, as you began pressing your hand to the wet, papery skincare sheet that rested on his face. The card, indeed, had an image of a baby-blue elephant on it, drawn in a simplified, cutesy manner–not to mention, it was accompanied by an ‘s,’ and the word elephant in all lowercase. You patted his face once more, ensuring the facemask was placed smoothly onto his warm skin, and then answered his question.

“Yeah, it looks pretty blue to me. Why?”

Pressing his lips into a fine line, he shook his head, a loose strand of hair untucking itself from one of the millions of barrettes placed in his hair. They ranged from a million different colors, to a million different decals, to a million different sizes. His favorites, he claimed, were the red chili peppers–because they were, as he claims, “hot and spicy,” like him.

“Have you ever seen a blue elephant?” he asked, his tone sardonic. “I mean, really–what is with this blue elephant propaganda? They’re gray. Or brown–either or.”

Looking over at him, you stifled a laugh and simply smiled. “I didn’t know this was something you were so passionate about, Carlos.”

Chuckling under his breath, he turned to face you, grinning. “Oh yeah, I’m real serious about this stuff. I mean, what are they teaching the children, y’know? That elephants are blue? It’s just not right.”

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his shoulder softly. The card he was holding was part of a children’s Go Fish Alphabet card pack, one which you asked him to pick up on his way home from work–Well, sort of. You hadn’t asked him to get an alphabet set of cards meant for teaching toddlers letters and animals, but cards were cards. You suppose.

“So we’re playing Go Fish tonight?” you asked, switching your sitting position, your legs brushing against the scratchy, beige carpet. 

“Not unless you know how to play poker or blackjack with these things,” he said, his tone lighthearted as he began shuffling the deck. 

“Ha, ha,” you exclaimed, your voice filled with sarcasm. “What would we bet, anyways? I don’t know how I feel forking up my cash to a guy who uses his money on Go Fish Alphabet cards.”

Whipping his head towards you, he feigned a hurt expression. “How could you say that? These are precious cards my wonderful girlfriend asked me to get. It was money well spent.”

Laughing, you reached over for the flimsy bowl of popcorn, aching for a handful–or two, or three–of the hot, buttery snack. You threw a singular popcorn at Carlos, watching him scramble for it unsuccessfully. It fell to the distant floor, to which, he quickly retrieved it and stuffed it in his mouth anyways.

“Eeeeewwww,” you teased, scrunching your face at him. He only scooted closer to you, using his thick arm to close the distance as he lifted his body that lay sideways. 

“Give me a kiss, pretty girl.” 

You faked a scream before getting up and attempting to run. He was quicker than you, though, and before you could make it out of your room, he had his arms wrapped tight around your waist, the scent of his skincare sheet wafting from behind. You felt him shift and interlock his fingers, pressing his hands against your stomach, pulling you into him as his head lowered to your neck, pressing kisses to it softly. 

You flinched from the drastic temperature change of his facemask meeting your skin, and started to wack his arm with haste. “Cold, cold, cold–” you repeated, sucking air in through your teeth.

He quickly pulled back, removing the skincare sheet and balling it up in his fist, before quickly shooting it toward the trashcan. Surprisingly, he didn’t miss.

You felt him untwine his fingers, his dominant hand rising to his face, only to do a singular swipe from his forehead-down to wipe the moisture off, before wiping it on his pants and returning his hand to where it was originally placed. You quietly murmured to him that it ruins the point if he touches his face after the mask, but when you felt his lips pin against your neck again, you lost all resolve to criticize his boyish actions.

“I got something else for us,” he mumbled, his voice low as well as without much focus on his actual speech; he continued working on your neck, and without a doubt, you felt a growth press against your backside. 

Your cheeks felt warm, and it was starting to get difficult to hold your eyes open, his touch feeling like a massage. “Hmm?” you mumbled, feeling him slowly drag a hand from your stomach, to your waist, to his pocket. 

He pulled out what sounded like a wrapper, and when he held it out in front of you, you saw that it was a candy labeled ‘Sex Chocolates,’ with bold, red lipstick stain decals over black packaging.

You blinked a couple of times, rereading the name, mostly unsure why the company would straight up name–what you assumed was a brand of herbal aphrodisiac chocolates–quite literally, ‘Sex Chocolates.’ It would be like if a toilet company named themselves, ‘Toilet.’ 

Just toilet.

You shrugged away the thought upon hearing Carlos speak, which you had no doubt was to clarify just what he was holding. Not that it needed much introduction.

“I was thinking,” he paused, moving his hand to raise your palm and place the candy in it, “we could each have one of these before playing our game. First one who caves, loses.”

Smirking, you began unwrapping the chocolate in your hand. 

This was going to be a piece of cake.

It was not a piece of cake. 

You were now sitting there, your heart feeling like it was about to burst out from your chest, while Carlos was sitting happily surrounded by the millions of barrettes he removed from his hair, analyzing the few cards left in his hand. “Got a lowercase ‘s,’ for squirrel?”

You shook your head, but to be honest, you didn’t give a single damn any longer about this game or his all-lowercase squirrel. You weren’t sure if those chocolates were really what they advertised or if they were just a placebo, but something was happening to you, that was for sure.

Maybe you had tricked yourself into thinking that they really do work, and as a result, they did–but no matter, because you had already caught yourself eyeing up Carlos like he was meat on a stick, multiple times.

At first, it was his arms that stuck out to you. The way his veins protruded, how his muscles flexed as he messed with his cards. You imagined how every single hair on his arm would feel as you ran your hand up it, and how your palm would follow the curves of his firm forearm, to his thick upper arm, to his broad shoulder. 

Next, it was his brows, strangely enough. You liked the way they moved, the way they would crease along with his forehead, how they showed every single emotion or thought that he had–how he had no poker face.

And now, it was his stomach. The way you could see a sliver of it due to his shirt being raised slightly, his untamed happy trail exposed so innocently. How around, only a mere centimeter, the band of his briefs peeked out. And god, not to mention, how you could see a bit of one of his v lines. 

Yup. You were done for.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you’re suddenly snapped out of your thoughts by the growing smirk on Carlos’ face. “Having trouble focusing, Pipsqueak? There’s no shame in calling it quits.”

“I’m good,” you stated, despite the horrible urge to squirm into his lap and beg for him to leave his mark over every single spot on your body.

You wanted his tongue everywhere. In your mouth, fighting for dominance; on your breasts, teasing you along with his teeth; on the palm of your hand, trailing to the veins on your wrist; and on your–

“Shit, it’s really getting to ‘ya, isn’t it?”

Your eyes met Carlos’ once again, and you watched as he inched closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, his voice low and sultry, barely above a whisper. “I’m yours.”

Within seconds, your lips crashed into his. The fact that this meant that you would lose the game was the absolute last thing on your mind right now, while the first thing, was everything you wanted Carlos to do to you–what you wanted to do to him.

As his velvety lips accepted your desperate ones, you pictured the two of you in every and any way imaginable. Missionary, in the bed, with your head trapped between one of his king-sized arms and his domineering head in the crook of your neck, panting with each thrust. On his face, with fistfuls of his black hair between your fingers and your beating clit brushing against the breath from his nose, begging you to cum. Cowgirl, on the floor, with your palms resting on his dense collarbones and his throbbing cock deep within your core.

Just to name a few.

You felt his facial hair rub against your cheeks, before suddenly, Carlos had you pinned by the arms to the floor. He then rose to his knees, hovering over you, looking at you through his bottom lashes with a lustful expression. Taking in a sharp inhale, he tilted his head and smiled smugly.

“I win.”

You simply stared up at him, your breathing quick, unable to contend his statement. You assumed he would gloat a little more, but surprisingly, he ended up helping you up fairly quickly. Once he did, he led you to the nearby bed, pulling you onto his lap–it didn’t take long at all for you to start grinding on one of his thighs, your head buried in between his neck and shoulder. You were so desperate for him, that you felt a little like a pervert as you rubbed yourself off, the musky scent of his skin being the only thing that filled your nostrils. 

“Calm down, Girl,” he said, softly placing his arm on your waist, holding you to him. His voice was light, and it sounded like he was genuinely starting to get concerned. “You are okay, right?”

Nodding your head into his shoulder, you let out a whimper as you found your sweet spot, dragging your hips slowly, back and forth atop his leg. In response, Carlos flexed the muscle within his thigh, pressing it up slightly, so that more pressure was provided. This time, you let out a gasp, and reached your hand up to the collar of Carlos’ shirt, gripping it as if you were holding on for dear life.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad.

“Carlos,” you breathed out, “I need you.”

Within an instant, Carlos had you on the bed, flipped on your back, with his knee pressed to your heat. He kept it there, letting you continue massaging yourself on him, as he pulled his shirt over his head with both arms. Mesmerized, you watched as his abs stiffened and relaxed with each move.

Next, he shuffled his pants and briefs down to his mid-thigh, sighing as his hard cock was released from its confines. After he did that, he removed his knee from between your legs, earning a whine from you, before then pulling your shorts and underwear down for you. Once they were completely off, he returned the two of you to your original positions, where he sat on the edge of the bed, and you sat facing toward him on his lap. His hand moved down south, softly caressing the side of your thigh, before eventually pushing between your folds and inserting a finger slowly. 

“Woah, you’re soaking,” he exclaimed, shocked by how wet you were already. Instead of gawking at this discovery, he simply inserted a second finger and continued trying to help relax the muscles in your core. It didn’t take much longer for the two of you to feel ready for the next step, to which Carlos slid his slick, thickset fingers out of your core. 

You raised your hips as he stroked himself slowly, positioning the head of his cock so that it aligned to the entrance of your heat. And then, you got exactly what you wanted.

He helped you lower yourself down onto him, and with ease, his manhood sunk deep inside you. Surprisingly, he was more vocal than you. With a couple of groans, he threw his head back, one of his hands positioned behind him, while the other held onto you tight. “Fuck, Babygirl, you feel so good.”

You began to move, slowly raising and dropping your hips, taking him in, then out, in, then out, over and over again. As the pattern continued, you deviated by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He reciprocated, and the two of you focused on your interlocked lips for a while, until eventually, he pulled back, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek. With hooded eyes, he moved his thumb over your lips, rubbing them gingerly. 

“Show me your tongue,” he instructed, leaving his thumb to rest on your bottom lip as you opened your mouth, following what he commanded. “That’s a good girl.”

Carlos moved the tip of his thumb to rest on your tongue, letting you suck on it gently as you continued to ride atop him, his eyes greedily watching you use him how you liked. 

You continued like that for a while longer, until soon enough, he moved his wet thumb from your mouth to your clit, and began to rub in constant, circular motions. A warm pit began to grow in your stomach, and within no time, you were tightening around his cock, on the verge of cumming. 

“Cum for me pretty girl,” he said, his voice strained as he was beginning to lose himself as well. “I’m not going to last much longer, and–I want you to cum first,” he groaned, having to slow his pace and flex his lower half. He was holding back an orgasm. 

Listening to his words, you moved your head to the crook of his neck, and shut your eyes as you focused on his thumb circling your clit. You came quickly, and as you did, Carlos filled your ears with plenty of praises and compliments–for being so good, and for being so patient.

Once you had finished, it was his turn. He let you collect yourself for a minute before leaning back, placing his hands on your hips, and thrusting wildly into you, as if he had lost all of the control he had previously.

“Fucking, god,” he groaned, the bed shaking wildly as he continuously ravaged you. You watched him as he got close, the way his throat strained, the way he panted and cussed, the way his entire face was scrunched. Not long after, you heard him let out a loud whine, his cock twitching and throbbing as his thick cum poured out into you in warm loads. 

It took a minute for him to catch his breath and pull out, but when he did, you felt his cum start to slowly drip out of your core, coating all over his cock. He didn’t even seem to notice.

Still trying to catch your breath, you glanced at Carlos, wondering how he was faring. He seemed more exhausted than you despite the chocolate affecting you more, and that resulted in a laugh from you.

Confused, Carlos looked up at you. “What? What’s funny?”

You continued to giggle, laying your head on his chest, and cuddling into his sweat-stricken body.

“Maybe you do have a poker face, after all.”

[another-fanfic-haven]

Perfection

Link to the previous part Word count: 720 And a song :) KMFDM - Megalomaniac

You always aim for perfection, to be the best, to be first, and to be at the top of the line.

And so, you ended here as a mere rookie in the Special Tactics and Rescue Services. You tried to set your place as the someone; the youngest, the smartest, the most courageous. But it all failed. You weren't the youngest - Rebecca was by two years. And who was the smartest? Of course, it was your Captain. Let's not even start with the courage. That list would be too long, and you - at the very bottom of it.

There was one thing you excelled at - technology. Even Brad Vickers, the IT specialist was starstruck by your abilities and how you stayed glued to the screen, seemingly busy, until he noticed you used the devices to chat on Usenet and play Telnet games. All after you completed your job for the day, of course. For an untrained eye, it looked like black magic - letters and symbols flying across the screen with no sense or reason, but for you? It made perfect sense. That was your intention, to stay busy, then go home, hopefully without being scolded. You didn't have much to return to, anyway. A small studio, which you had to share. Brilliant. At least it kept the bills low.

You envied them. The look in your eyes as they returned from their missions, more often than not in soiled uniforms, scratches, and other random injuries. They seemed so proud. So victorious. You wanted that for yourself. Why did they never take you for the missions? Hell! Even Rebecca from the Bravo team was out and about more often than you! And she's just a medic! And you are well. Even if you don't know what part were you playing in the S.T.A.R.S.? An IT guy, perhaps? Computer magician? Or just someone to fill the space, ready to be made redundant on a whim.

And so, your hate and disdain slowly grew within you, making your blood boil, watching them from over your workstation screen, hearing their voices retelling the stories. God. So annoying.

You preferred the silence. If you didn't finish a task during the day, you'd eagerly stay overtime to work in piece, at your own pace, over a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here so late?" A voice rang behind you. Before you could react, you saw someone's hand resting on the desk, just next to the keyboard you've been typing on. Your body froze - your Captain was right behind you. You ought to be standing up in attention, greeting him properly. Not freeze in place!

"I'm finishing something up, apologies." You managed to utter, feeling a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to disappear at that moment more than anything. To hell with that assignment! Tomorrow's another day.

Albert straightened up, leaning his body weight over your chair. You heard him smirk, then... felt a pat on the shoulder? His hand lingered just a while too long, but oddly not uncomfortably.

"Good job. Don't overwork yourself." He stated the last phrase seeming like a command.

You sat there for a moment longer, frozen. You just got praised? It certainly sounded like it.

You heard him chuckle, probably shaking his head. He probably stood a couple of steps away now, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes locked on your posture from behind these dark glasses.

You were too shy to look up, maybe for the better. You just heard him hurry back into office, disappearing into the distance, stopping for a moment.

"Get some rest. It's an order, rookie." His voice carried through the deserted office before his steps disappeared around the corner. The way he pronounced your nickname, there was a hint of kindness instead of the usual snicker or a jab from your colleagues.

You nodded frantically, not sure whether he saw it or not.

You looked around the office - the buzz of the lights filling the silence, creating an even more lonely feel to the room. You turned your workstation, cleaned up the mess of papers on your desk, and turned to the exit.

That was one hell of an evening now, was it? Perhaps that cold captain is not that bad after all.

[diaryofasentimentalist]

— i dial drunk // ex!leon

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

tags: angst, exes, drunk dial, very mild sexual content

summary: your ex calls you in the middle of the night to reminisce on the good times, but you'd rather not. (2.7k)

a/n: lots of jumping between the current phone call and their past memories so just mind the verb tense!

The ringing finds you in your dreams, a vexing trill that you can’t seem to find the source of no matter how long you search, that doesn’t stop no matter how long you wait it out. When it finally pulls you from your sleep, you reach over and silence the tone without so much as twitching an eyelid. The grating vibrations of your phone against the nightstand continue as the call finishes ringing out.

Another shrill tone startles you, shattering the silence as soon as you feel yourself drifting off again. Groggily, you pat around on the nightstand until you find your phone again and bring it to your ear, eyes barely cracking open enough to find the green 'accept' button.

“Hello?” you mumble into the receiver, eyes straining open. It’s pitch black. Nowhere near dawn. Good news never comes at this hour.

“God, I missed the sound of your voice.”

That voice you’d know anywhere snakes its way into your ear, straight down your throat and into your chest, where it settles around your heart, squeezing tightly. You’re wide awake now, burning eyes forcing their way open, pulse quickening as you lay still in bed, paralyzed.

“Leon,” you say hoarsely, your voice still thick with sleep.

Your name echoes back to you on a sigh, your chest constricting at the homesickness of it all.

“I told you not to call me anymore,” you say, measured and even in spite of the way it feels like you can’t breathe.

“I know, baby,” he says, words slightly slurred. “But I jus’ missed you… wanted to hear your voice again…”

“You’re drunk.”

It’s not a question or an accusation, just a statement. It’s in his voice, in the way he called you multiple times at such an hour. In the way he’s calling you baby again, telling you openly how much he misses you. Leon has too much good sense— or maybe just pride— to pester you when he’s sober. Even on the rare occasion when he’s run into you in public since the break up, he just watched you from afar, a strange expression on his face. Get enough alcohol in him, though, and he’s right back to the desperation of the day you first left.

“S’that obvious, huh?” he says with a low laugh. The sound triggers the thing that has settled in your chest to tighten once more, sends another stabbing pain straight to your heart as you stare up at the dark ceiling. “Sorry, baby. I know you hate it when I drink.”

“Hated,” you correct. It doesn’t matter. Even if he remembers this conversation when he’s sober, it won’t stop him from talking the same way next time he drunk dials. “I don’t care what you do anymore, Leon, so long as you leave me out of it.” You shift onto your other side, breaking through the strange paralysis that had overtaken you. The digital alarm clock on your nightstand is waiting to greet you. 2:23 AM. “But you can’t even do that. God, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Nighttime?” he offers, sounding unbothered. “Did I wake you? We always used to stay up this late.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as an involuntary wave of memories floods through you. There were a lot of late nights when you were together. The lack of consistent sleep schedule never bothered you then. You were always just happy to be spending time with him in whatever way. Sometimes you’d be out on the balcony, lights off, clinging to one another as you talked on the wicker settee. Sometimes you’d watch late night tv, lying on the couch with him on top of you, nuzzling into your neck while you traced patterns into his back beneath his shirt. Sometimes you’d lie atop the mound of pillows on the bed, his head buried between your thighs as you gasped and sighed and moaned his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I have work tomorrow,” you say coldly, bidding the images to stop. “Goodbye, Leon.”

He cuts in before you can hang up, carrying on as though you hadn’t said anything at all. “Remember when you got that craving for muffins at midnight?”

Of course you do. You’d been having another late night with Leon, the tv droning on in the background while the two of you dozed on and off, when he’d finally suggested the two of you retire to bed. A commercial for some cereal came on just before the screen went black, and the second you saw the mock breakfast spread, that was it. You needed a muffin. Leon laughed off your suggestion at first. As soon as he realized how serious you were, though, he’d pulled you up and to the kitchen, and you’d gotten to work. His offers to help you culminated in him keeping a hand firmly planted on your waist at all times, watching you measure the ingredients out, and kissing the back of your head every so often. But you were at his apartment, and he wasn’t much of a baker, and so you’d only realized halfway through that he didn’t have all of the things you needed, no brown sugar or vanilla or even cinnamon.

Feeling defeated, you’d relented that you could just finish tomorrow. Wordlessly, Leon left the kitchen, returning a moment later with his keys jingling around his finger and tossing you a jacket. He took you to the nearest 24-hour supermarket, your hand never dropping his as you led him along the aisles, giggling. Even now, you recall the distinct domesticity of it all, how you’d felt so normal, like you could have a real life with him some day.

Leon kept a hand on your thigh the whole drive back, taking the long way home just to prolong the moment, and you were so glad you could watch the wind from the open windows rifle through his hair just a little longer, drink in the sight of the passing street lights flickering across his skin. When you finally got home, he was touchier than before as you finished your baking expedition. The moment the tray was in the oven you were upon him, legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted you onto the counter, pulling you closer, always closer. You’d been so distracted that you’d let the muffins bake a little too long until the smell reminded you what you’d stayed up for. The edges had started to burn, the cinnamon crumble on top hardening just a bit too much, and you’d insisted that you could do better, but he assured you—

“Best damn muffins I’ve ever had,” Leon rambles on. “Been to a million bakeries, can’t find anything like them…”

Why is he telling you all this?

Why is he making you remember?

Now that the memory has started, you can’t stop it, the scenes rolling in your mind like a film. After indulging in the baked goods, he’d carried you to his room, house still smelling of cinnamon and vanilla. It must’ve been well past three by the time he was laying you back against the bed gently, but neither of you were tired. The earlier impatience in his movements had dissipated, and he took his time with you, his hands caressing your body while yours explored his with equal devotion—

“I miss how you felt in my hands,” he says suddenly, as though his thoughts have followed the same natural trajectory as yours.

You remember his hands on your hips, firm, secure, anchoring you to him. The way his calloused palms felt against your smooth skin. The way his touch dripped with reverence, like he was perpetually caught between the desire to treat you like something delicate and the desire to have more of you, that hungry conflict always reflected in his piercing blue eyes—

“I miss how you looked under me,” he continues.

You remember throwing your head back, how he’d dip in to kiss along the exposed column of your neck before littering affection across your face. How it would suddenly stop, sometimes, and when you’d look up at him expectantly, you’d find him gazing down at you in equal parts awe and adoration. The moment you reached up for him he’d come back down and—

“I miss how your lips fit against mine.”

“You’re so selfish,” you interject, unwilling to entertain this any longer, afraid of what might happen if you do. “Waking me up on a work night so you have someone to reminisce with?”

“I know, baby,” he says, a self-deprecating laugh tumbling through the phone, twisting your stomach. “I was a shit boyfriend and I’m a shittier ex.”

That’s not true. He was a wonderful boyfriend, except when he wasn’t. He was always affectionate with you, except when he wanted to be alone… always warm and patient with you, except when he would withdraw… always understanding and attentive, except when he’d drink… It’s just that the times he wasn’t there for you were so hard, and over time, they’d gotten more and more frequent. Nothing you did to try to reach him, to be there for him, to support him, ever seemed to get through to him. Eventually, it was all too much.

Yet anytime you hear his voice, it’s always the good that comes to mind. It overwhelms you, makes you question why you ever left. A single word from Leon makes you curse the day you walked away. Only when you’re alone, in silence, away from the inexplicable effect of his presence, can you truly remember how the lows felt. The isolation of it all, the pain, the waiting. The disappointment over and over and over again.

The rest of that night comes to you now, floating in through the open window with the August breeze. How strange to think that was a whole year ago. After making love, he’d held you for a time, and you were content there, as sweaty and warm as it was, but he’d carried you to the shower with him. It was mostly silent, save for the pitter-patter of the water against the tile. He lathered your hair for you, and you scrubbed his back, pressing kisses against his wet shoulders. By the time the two of you were toweled and dressed in fresh clothes, it was late— or early— enough that you’d decided to stay up and watch the sun rise. You’d snuggled closer to him out on the balcony, the early morning air chilling you slightly as your still wet hair dripped onto your shoulders. He’d pulled you in, his body a natural furnace, and wrapped you in his arms.

God, you’ve never felt that safe anywhere else.

“Yeah, you are.” The words are laced with forced venom, and it burns to speak them. “That’s why you shouldn’t call me anymore.”

“I know.” There’s a pause on the other end. “You should block me.”

His words shatter something inside you. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” he drawls. “You could just block me. But you won’t.”

“Leon.”

“Because you still think about me, too, don’t you?”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“And if you blocked me,” he rambles on, “then you’d really never hear from me again.”

“Go fuck yourself, actually.”

Laughter filters in and out of earshot, like the receiver keeps drifting from his lips, but he doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches on for one minute, two. A part of your conversation from that night on the balcony strikes you.

“Why not?” you’d asked him, tearing your gaze away from the brightening horizon to stare up at him, at the distant look in his blue eyes. Somehow, the subject of past relationships had come up. It wasn’t something either of you really cared about, but he’d just disclosed that he hadn’t really had a long term relationship with anyone before you. Most women left before things got serious, he’d said, and he never asked them to stay, to give it a real shot. He shrugged, using the motion to tug you closer.

“I can’t ask that of anyone. I don’t really deserve to. If someone wants to leave, I get it.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That means you, too, when you finally get sick of me one day.”

“Never,” you said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek as he chuckled. A few strands of sandy hair tickled your nose. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?”

“Oh, darling, I know. I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with you long after you’re gone.”

The offhand remark didn’t make sense to you at the time, and when you asked him what he meant, he refused to elaborate, merely remarking on the emerging colors in the sky.

You get it now. And if you’d got it then, you would have been afraid, too.

Time moves on for everyone else, but not you two. Something happened when you stormed out of his apartment on that rainy night back in April, staining the fabric of time, marring your life with an inescapable loop. Just when you start to feel normal, you’re forced to relive the raw heartache all over again, as if it’s only been four days, not months, since you left. It happens every single time his name pops up on your caller ID. Every so often, when you think— with a surge of dread that you refuse to acknowledge— that he might finally have moved on, he calls again.

Never to ask you to come back, though. Never to ask you for another chance.

Just to reminisce.

Hot tears stream out of the corners of your eyes, landing on your pillow with muted plops. You make no effort to stop them or wipe them away, silent for fear that your voice will betray you if you try to speak now. You hate it, but even crying in bed like this makes you think of him, the feeling of his chest against your back, his silent strength when he’d comfort you during moments of weakness.

“Leon?” you call, wondering if he finally passed out. Hoping that if he did, he’s at least in bed, or on the couch, or somewhere safe. Warm. Not huddled outside of some seedy bar, or hunched over the filthy curb.

“I may be selfish, sweetheart” he says finally, his voice husky, “but you’re just cruel.” You can only blink up at the ceiling, tears momentarily stayed as you wrack your brain for what he’s responding to. “You answer my calls just to tell me how much you don’t want them.”

If the fight weren’t draining out of you, you might snap back at him that he doesn’t have to call in the first place, that he should take a hint, that he should delete your number altogether. Instead, all you can do is let his words hang there while you contemplate them.

Maybe it is cruel. When he calls you like this, asking if you remember, he’s asking something more. Questions he could never verbalize, but that remain implicit in what he says. Do all those little moments mean as much to you as they do to me? Do the memories haunt you like they haunt me? Do you miss it like I do?

Leon won’t ask you to come back, no. But he wants to know if you’ve ever considered it on your own.

“Goodnight, Leon,” you say suddenly, forcing the words past the painful lump in your throat. You can't keep doing this, can't keep letting him tear you down just because he's found himself at the bottom of another bottle. “I hope you learn how to take better care of yourself one day.”

“I hope you find someone better to take care of one day.” At first, you think he’s just scrambled up your words in his drunken stupor in an effort to throw them back at you. But then he speaks again, and you know he meant exactly what he said. “Hey, I’m glad you left. Happy for you, I mean. You deserve better than me." Something terrible is building up in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat if he doesn't stop. "I love—”

You hang up before he can hear the way your breath shudders.

[sinsofnivan]

I just read intoxication, I’m on my knees begging for you to write more Krauser. Could literally be anything and I will eat it up you write him so good. Really looking forward to your future works🖤🖤🖤

MATCH MADE IN HELL! — Jack Krauser x YOU!

SUMMARY: it's always bugged krauser how he could easily melt under your touch. that tough exterior—gone—the moment your lips wrap around his cock. at first he was confused with the moans that wanted to leave his scarred mouth, confused that his blowjob was ten times better than the previous ones, confused that his eyes actually wanted to roll back to the pits of his sockets. but he's grown to love it, more than he actually expected—because he was seeing you almost everyday.

PAIRING: JACK KRAUSER/you.

WARNINGS: oral fixations, slight post-orgasm torture, cock worship?, body worship, cockdrunk reader, size difference female reader, nsfw themes, obviously, possessive krauser, bro is in love with the readussy (and the reader too, of course.), size difference, krauser has a big fat monster veiny cock, being friends w benefits w krauser, au where krauser lives, krauser is also really needy and really nasty like, nasty nasty in this fic

WORD COUNT: 2259

A/N: y'all krauser has been fine since the first game TELL ME I'M WRONGGGGGGG.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"oh fuck . . "

the feeling of your mouth wrapping around him was heaven. it's so soft, so fucking warm, and krauser couldn't help but let out a guttural moan. "mm," there hummed the pretty woman beneath him: you. the apple of his eye, the only source of his desires. you held his girthy cock from the base, slowly taking him in. "jus' like that, baby." his impatience gets the best of him, and he ends up pushing your head forward. the tip of his cock is just past your tongue, and you end up gagging, coughing out a thick coat of spit.

he groans, mouth left open as his dick twitched in your throat. why is it everything that you did turned him on? he hated it. hated how he needed you. how he wanted you for himself. "s , sorry, babe—shit!" you didn't allow him to finish his apology as you sheathed his cock deep in your throat; 'til your nose was firmly pressed against his bush, 'til his balls covered your already spit-soaked chin.

it takes everything in him to not cum—because for once, he actually wants to savour you. (and he won't admit it, he cums so fast with you . . ) his lips quivered, and you begin to bob your head at a steady pace. "mmh. . . mfff," you obscenely moaned against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as much as you could. "you're such a fucking . . dirty girl," he growled, running his scarred digits through his aurum hair. 

nevermind the burn on your knees. it was easy to ignore the aches when krauser whined your name so sinfully good. it only encourages you to pick up the speed, letting out these gagging noises everytime his tip’s by the back of your throat. his built thighs are caressed by you, palm running over every scar, every outline of his quads, juxtaposed by the harsh lines branded by your nails. krauser winced, but soon grinned. 

you began to practically fuck your throat against his veiny cock, jaw aching from how wide you have to open those pretty lips. gods, you drove him crazy, already feeling the orgasm quickly creeping up on him. "baby—, wait," he growled, putting a hand on top of your head to try and "stop" you, but he couldn't. you only hummed, reaching for his balls and squeezing. "stop––fuck, stop. 'm gonna cum," 

well, that was the point! 

instead, you'd knead his balls again, trying your best to maintain the rapid pace you've initiated, and krauser hisses at your hardheadedness. "Y/N, 'm serious—fuck, fuuuuck, i'm gonna cum, i'm cumming—!" his grip tightens, and it's just second-nature for you to force his throbbing cock deep in your throat as his cum spurts in thick amounts. his hips stuttered, and krauser doesn't let you pull away, even when you coughed, even when you gagged, even when you were tapping his leg for air. 

"bad girls don't get to breathe," he growled, keeping your head in place with one hand. "you're so fucking stubborn. can't wait to be a little cockslut for me? huh?" you whined, your spit leaking nonstop from his balls and from the sides of your mouth. his cock slides out from your mouth, and you wanted to catch your breath, but he had other plans; spit-covered shaft resting on your face and letting your own sloppy mess smear all over you. "you're so fucking filthy, baby," he groaned, watching you lick the underside, all the way down, down to his balls.

fingers delicately stroke the sensitive tip, earning a growl from your krauser whilst your fingertips teased him over and over; taking one of his balls in your mouth and sucking. he was fucking whimpering, cock still sensitive, but it felt so, so good. you were addicted, and so was he. "you're so—," so good. so fucking amazing. "you're so fucking bratty, god," he had to practically pry your mouth off of him, and you only pressed kisses on his tip. "'m soooorry," you muttered against his cock, smiling so deceivingly sweet at him. "y'know i love your cock, i can't help it . . " 

you sweet thing—krauser could never resist you. not with your eyes peering up at him like that, not with you wrapping your lips around his girth again; he pushes almost every strand of hair out of the way, your soft locks now bundled up in his fist on the back of your head as he guides his cock back in. "i'll give you want, slut," he growled, shoving it back in with a loud moan. his balls slap against your chin, and you only whimpered, a hand dipping to rub messy circles on your cunt. 

"this is what you wanted, right?" 

his thrusts began, and they're just as spiteful as he is—with every drive of his hips stimulating your gag reflexes. "wanted to be—fuck. . facefucked like a—like a dirty whore," the last words were punctuated with hard slams, and krauser only laughed when he sees those pretty irises roll to the back of your head. "couldn't fuckin' wait, could you?" he chuckled darkly, holding your head down and rendering you immobile. you choked, grunting and whimpering, breath laboured as you struggled to breathe through your nose, but . . but . . your fingers kept rubbing against your aching clit, still so needy just for him.  

"you're choking but still rubbing your cunt—? look at you, god, look at you. you're so fucking slutty."

krauser grants you reprieve, pulling out of your throat and letting you breathe. "there you go, baby. breathe. breathe," the fastened hold on your head loosens, and krauser cradled your face, wiping off your filthy tears. "still with me?" you feel his thumb on your lips, and he knew it was a yes when you let your mouth envelop the thick phalange.  "my orally fixated girl," krauser laughed, retiring his hand from your face. "c'mere." helping you get up from the floor, krauser gently held you by the neck as he captured your lips, uncaring if he could taste his cum on your tongue, uncaring if he could smell his own scent on you. (that drove him wild, actually . . )

his tongue is practically in your mouth, kissing you with urgency as if it was the first time he's got you in a liplock. calloused hands roam your body, starting from your waist all the way down to your hips and rear where he possessively squeezed it in both his hands, making you squeak. he could easily manhandle you, and he did; breaking the kiss so he could hold you up by your legs and bring you to the bed. 

"krauser," you croaked, getting comfortable on the mattress. "i'm horny—need you to fuck me," "i know, baby," krauser's on his knees, the mattress dipping from his weight. "hips up," he impatiently tugged on your panties, and he drooled when he sees your transparent essence clinging on to the fabric of your undergarment. "so wet, all from having your throat fucked?" he grinned, teasing your slit with his middle finger. "uh-huh," you nodded, because, well, it was true! 

y'can't wait to be fucked, and you're just so lucky that krauser can't wait to fuck you, the blonde grabbing ahold of your ankles as his dick rests against your mons—you bit your lip, seeing how the tip was so close to reaching your navel. "keep these open," he growled, moving his hips so the head of his cock would prod against your slit. "you want this? beg." 

the squelching sounds from beneath you are lewd as he slapped his cock against your dripping pussy. "please, krauser," you whined. "i need you to fuck me," "beg haaaarder, c'mon. my girl can do better than that," he began to rub the head of his girth against your clit, strings of his pre were clinging on to both your sensitive tips. "need you to fuck me please—have your cock stretch my cunt, please, please," 

holding his lipstick-stained base, his hips move slowly, cock slowly slipping past your soaked folds; the first stretch is fucking heaven, and krauser grinned when he feels your legs quiver. his hold's back on your ankles, not even waiting for you to fully adjust as he buried his cock deep, deep into your pretty pussy. the stretch burns so, so good.

it didn't even take him more than a second as he began to pound into you, driving his cock as deep as he could—which he did successfully, seeing as to how he could see the subtle bulge from your lower tummy; he soaked up sight of you beneath him. "hnng—! fuck!" you cried out, as he grabbed your waist to pin you in place. "so biiig . . " you held on to the sheets as he rammed into you mercilessly. "yeah? you can take it. you're—h, haah . . you're my girl, y'can take it." 

you're just as wrapped around his finger as he is around yours, because him calling you his girl makes you whimper, makes you clench around his thick cock. "yeah? yeah, you fucking like that, huh?" cocky bastard; like he wasn't just whimpering for you a few minutes ago. but, he fucked you so good—filled you up so fucking good. 

"so wet, god. no one else can have you . . " he growled. the last part was supposed to be just whispered to himself, but you lovedliked it. he became territorial, your moans grew louder, and your pussy just reflexed around him. it was cute. your waist is freed, and the pillows beside you dip as krauser caged you with his muscular arms. you pout when his thrusts stopped, but embraced him with your arms. "why'd you stop?" you huffed, and krauser just clicked his tongue. "shh. mouth open," he commands, and you do so without hesitation—even sticking your tongue out for him—and krauser's quick to spit in that pretty mouth. 

krauser's balls twitched. fuck . . you really are his girl. he leans in to kiss you, beginning to ram into you faster. harder. for being such a good girl. "mphh!" your cries of bliss are swallowed by his lips, nails painfully dragging over his scarred, built back. your legs would flail with every thrust, your heels smacking against the dimples on his back everytime, but, fuck, who cares. krauser didn't care. he wouldn't give a fuck if you bit him, scratched him, cut him. 

"say you love my cock," krauser whispered against your skin, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and neck where he took the liberty to brand you with his teeth. "i love you—your cock, krauser. so much. 'm addicted," you were addicted alright, craning your neck for him as you let your eyes roll back. "yeah? you're addicted? me too, baby." he chuckled, lapping up the sweat. he's fucking nasty, god. 

his kisses moved to your collarbones, while he began to grope your pretty tits. how could he neglect these. "love your body, these tits, this fucking pussy," he looked up at you, and you were so beautiful succumbing to the pleasure that he gives you. the pleasure that only he could give you. all this praise from him—you can only take so much—feeling the familiar coil in your stomach tighten. and at this point, krauser has your body memorized. he can feel it, when you're writhing more than usual, wailing louder than usual. "i love all these reactions. i just know your body so well, baby. you love it when i press . . " 

you know exactly what he wanted to do, and you knew it would be your undoing, but you couldn't stop him even if you wanted to. you feel yourself squirm—feeling slightly ticklish—as he caressed your chest, your stomach, and then pressed at the spot just below your tummy, where he could feel the bump of his cock. this makes your body quiver—eyes wide at him as if you weren't expecting it, and his thrusts never faltered.

"here."

"krauser—♡!"

your orgasm takes you by surprise, cunt gushing all over him as he continued his pounding. "see? you're cumming already." "fuck—fuck! h-hngggggh!" you whimpered, holding onto him tight. "keep cumming. fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking—haah . .  messy," "thank you—thank youuu. ♡!" the thought of someone else witnessing your pure, unadulterated lust made him definitely mad, rutting desperately into you as if he wanted you to remember the shape of him. "i f-fucking love you—i love fucking you,"

and unfortunately for you, because you were too impatient earlier, he was nowhere near done, not even the ache of an orgasm creeping his mind. meanwhile, you easily fell apart when the hand pressing down on your tummy began to toy with your clit. he knew how to touch you, where to touch you—how could you not come undone? "krausheer—-♡ g'nna cum again," "yeah, go ahead. that's it, baby. keep squirting—you just love my cock that much, huh?" he grinned cruelly, adoring how you thrashed from overstimulation, all dumb with your mind turned to mush. pleasure fills you everywhere, causing your back to curve and arch as you're sent over the edge again. 

he mercifully lets you recuperate from your orgasms with slowing thrusts, eyes skimming over your mien. were you hurt? conscious? "still with me?" he asked in between gasps of air, voice gruff. you only nod, too fucked out. his cock's still deep in you, still painfully hard, still aching for you. "we can stop if you want," "noo," you huffed—only locking your legs around him tighter. krauser was pretty surprised, but he didn't complain. 

"you're such a freak, Y/N."

end.

A/N: thank you so much for reading! i really appreciate all your support! this will soon be crossposted on ao3. i am still sort of studying so very slow updates! but i've seen your requests and i have heard you all. more to come SOON!!!

[blood-red-ocean]

Alcina Dimitrescu X Sick (Fem) Reader

As requested by @alcinaslittlemaid! I hope you feel better soon ♥️

(I wrote this on my phone at volunteering so please excuse any typos/formatting/grammatical errors! I'll fix it at home if I need to.)

Genre: Fluff/Comfort

Category: F/F

Relationships: Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader

Word count: Approx. 1000 words.

Summary: You've come down with one hell of a flu, and you find yourself plodding to Alcina's quarters for comfort. Fluffiness and soft Alcina care ensues.

The Lady's bed dwarfed you as you lay in the centre of it, drowning in blankets and your own misery. When you'd awakened that morning, you felt like you'd been used as a chew toy for a Lycan, every muscle and joint in your body aching. You barely remember waking up in your own bed and miserably trodding out of your room and down the halls, blanket wrapped around you as a cape - what you did remember was your surprise when you entered the Lady's chambers, crawled into her bed, and were met with no strict words or resistance, only with an arm draped over you and a surprisingly soft voice. 

"Oh, draga... You truly aren't faring well, are you?" She had said, her voice breaking through the sickness-induced brain fog and prompting you to nuzzle into her embrace. She chuckled softly and you vaguely mentally registered her brushing some of your hair away from your face, tutting as her fingertips brushed your forehead. "You're positively burning up... We can't have you roaming the Castle in this state, now can we?"

You shook your head and coughed a little, wincing as your lungs protested the action. The Lady had tucked the numerous blankets around you as you hid your face your face in her embrace, her fingertips alternating between running through your hair and running up and down your spine. She hummed thoughtfully, murmuring to herself as you slipped in and out of a light doze. 

"Miranda, maybe...?" She paused. "No, Miranda wouldn't work. Donna, perhaps... Draga mea?" She was speaking to you now, and you didn't lift your head, just made a small sound of acknowledgement. "I need to retrieve something. It's of... Vital importance. Be a brave little thing and stay here, yes?"

If you had been more present, you would have noticed the lilt in her voice, and pieces together that she wasn't going to retrieve something for herself. As it was, you were exhausted and your mind was consumed by brain fog, and you could only whimper as she pulled away from you. She shushed you and caressed your cheek, whispering to you. "Do not fret, Iubita mea. I will return before you realise I've left. Be a good girl and stay here, for me."

And stay there is exactly what you did. The blankets covering you were heavy and soothing, the scent of the Lady's perfume making your senses come alight - or at least as well as they could, with your nose blocked. The crackling from the fire in the corner echoed around the room, gently lulling you back to sleep every time you woke up. Your sense of time was shaky in your sick state, and you weren't sure how long it had been since the Lady left the room. Just as you were thinking maybe you should drag yourself from the blankets and back to your own bed, the door swung open and the familiar sound of her heels on the hardwood floor blessed your ears. The sound came closer and there was a shuffling, followed by the bed dipping beside you. You distantly felt her hands patting the pile of blankets on top of you gingerly, and suddenly you felt them slip under you, pulling you from your little cave. 

"Now, now," she murmured in response to your indignant grumbling. "None of that. Come here, draga." 

She pulled you into her lap, where you curled up into her, your hand gripping the collar of her nightgown to keep her there. You closed your eyes and pressed your face into her, but not before you caught a glimpse of what she had brought in with her. Beside the two of you on the bed was a wooden tray, bearing an assortment of pastries, fruits, some honey and two cups of tea. One of them looked like regular herbal tea, and the other seemed to almost shimmer. You made a confused noise in the back of your throat and looked up at her. 

"That, dragostea mea, is a concoction of Donna's own creation." She lifted the cup to her nose and inhaled deeply. The sight of the teacup in her larger than ordinary hands made you smile weakly. "It is a combination of healing herbs, some roots, and some berries for sweetness. Come, draga." She held the cup to your lips and added, "It will make you feel better. You have my word."

You placed your hand over hers and obediently sipped the steaming liquid, blinking in surprise as the mixture of spices and sweet, tart berries exploded on your tongue. You kept drinking, the Lady rubbing your back and murmuring to you in Romanian as you did so. When the teacup was empty she pulled it away and replaced it with a sweet pastry, which you nibbled on thankfully. True to her word, you started to feel better, your mind clearing along with your sinuses. You realised with renewed clarity where you were and you blushed deeply, attempting to sit up. 

"I-- Thank you for looking after me, my Lady. But I--"

"What did I tell you about calling me that, prințesa mea? You can call me by my name. It's okay." 

"Alcina," Using her name felt powerful, intimate. "I really should be returning to my quarters, I should rest--"

"Nonsense." Alcina held you closer to her, her grip around you tighter. She smiled sweetly at you. "You have a raging fever, ursuleț. No, no, I really do think you need to stay here. You need to be properly taken care of." 

You didn't have it in you to argue, or even think about leaving her arms. You closed your eyes and let yourself slump against her, and you felt yourself drifting off again as she ran her fingers through her hair and rocked you, singing a lullaby in soft Romanian - singing you softly to sleep. 

[sheepispink]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑪𝑶𝑳 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

✭ status: ongoing ✭ taglist: open! ✭ AO3 ver

✭ more notes about the series

✭pairings: fem!escort!reader x agent!leon

✭ characters: Leon Kennedy, Chris RedField, Hunnigan

no warnings apply but i’d like to clarify this is SFW and will not contain any smut, kisses will also be rare but if in demand i can always make a bonus side story

✭ set in 2004-2008

✭ canon universe, enemies to friends (can be seen as platonic or romantic)|| Your first day in a proper job is exhilarating, especially when you were placed in the DSO practically any graduates dream. You were a simple escort for now, helping out with Mr Kennedy’s documents and the like. However, he doesn't seem to be very cooperative, leaving to some difficulties that make you want to potentially rip your own hair out.

𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✭First Impressions

✭ Stubborn Agents

✭ Return

✭ Regrets and Bandages

୨✧୧ Business Class (Side Story)

✭Aftermath in Miami

✭ Spanish Sorrow

୨✧୧ Acting Different (Side Story)

✭Infinite Darkness (Part 1)

✭Infinite Darkness (Part 2)

✭Infinite Darkness (Part 3)

✭Chapter 10

✭Chapter 11

✭Chapter 12

✭Chapter 13

✭Chapter 14

✭Chapter 15

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆! ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

[lyavee44]

Saudade [LEON S. KENNEDY X LUIS S. NAVARRO]

oh man, i never posted a fanfic before. im SCARED.

english isn't my first language, so i apologise for any errors in advance. and PLEASE correct me so i know better in the future!<//3

ngl it's a teensy tiniest little bit out of character, i got too silly

ion even ship them but i thought this would be really fun to write

word count - 25k

cw - COVID-19 is actually a B.O.W. (😭), mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, kidnapping, vulgar language, umbrella sucks ass, bad worldbuilding, sort-of coming out on both parts, fluff, angst if you squint, i forgor that benford kicked the bucket in 2013 so pretend he didn't 🙀 i already resurrected luis + re6 storyline is trash let's ignore it for the sake of old man yaoi

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

This time, it can be different. It has to.

That is exactly what Leon told himself so many years ago before being sent off to rescue Ashley Graham. True, it sure was different. Nothing in his life could've prepared him for such an awakening, for having sunshine gently cascade over his face just for an eclipse to come moments later. Nothing could've prepared him for the harsh drop that left him chilled to the bone, blinded, and lost.

It's not as if he never loved before per se, he's had his fair share of flings - more or less serious. He's never been in so deep, though. He's never been one to believe in feelings to develop so quickly, either. Or rather, he didn't let himself get those feelings to bloom. Too risky to even think about it. Potentially harmful to himself and the other person. Forget it, Kennedy.

He knows there's more to life than just what he's grown to get accustomed to over the years. The stench of blood and gunpowder was practically undetectable to his nose at this point with how often he's caught onto it. It felt as if any firearm he got his hands on was molded perfectly for his callous palms, it felt natural. And yet, he knows this isn't it. This isn't what life is about, it's not about ending other beings for the sake of saving more. "Saving the world by destroying it, ain't that backwards?" is what he said to someone years ago as well. Goodness, it's been so many years and they're pouring through the cracks of his fingers. They're slipping away faster than his sobriety with every sip. Where did the time go...?

The agent sat there on his bed, right at the coffee table. His hand felt glued to the shot glass, the back of his throat beginning to burn more and more with the sting of pure vodka. He didn't even bother to buy his favourite booze, brandy, he didn't feel particularly deserving of a decent treat. If anything, he was miserable. All the years went by faster than the shots he's been downing for the past hour. While he isn't much of a lightweight, his head was fuzzy. All Leon wanted right now was to never leave his own eerily empty four walls anymore. He didn't want to bother, he just wanted the world to shut off.

And just when he was about to pour another round, his phone rang. The blonde groaned, his brows furrowing. He reached for the beat up device, checking the caller ID.

Hunnigan.

"Great," he rasped out, mumbling quiet expletives and then taking a few deep breaths. He knew better than to be impolite to his fellow support agent. She wasn't at fault for any of this madness anyway. She was just there to team up with him, and he had no business in having her deal with his low humour.

Clearing his throat, he finally picked up and hesistantly raised the phone to his ear, speaking in a groggy voice.

"Hey there, long time no speak." he tried to sneak in a chuckle, but all that came out was a short, wheeze-like scoff. The last mission he's been assigned to was maybe a month ago, and they hadn't spoken since.

"Really funny, Leon." the woman chided him in her low voice, although her retort held a hint of fond amusement. Despite everything, she cared for him like a friend would, professionalism aside. Speaking of which, she cleared her throat and forced herself to talk about what was at hand.

"Listen, there's something brewing. It isn't looking so good. It's-"

"No shit, Ingrid." he cut her off, his voice more impatient. He mentally cursed himself for snapping, although he already know what was at hand. Just another time he's gonna be getting his hands dirty for the sake of everyone else.

"Come on, Leon! What's up with you now?" Hunnigan exclaimed, already getting fed up with his attitude. "We've got something at hand that isn't looking like a regular B.O.W. It's not mutating phenotypes like the regular ones, it's more like... It's..."

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He cut her off once again, although it was uncertain if he was chiming in or apologising for his earlier behaviour. "No, it's just... Nevermind. Tell me about this."

"Thanks," The other agent huffed in response, shaking her head on the other line.

"It's as if they're coming up with someone to just straight up weaken or kill people." She finally explained as vaguely yet efficiently as she could, radio silence on the other side almost deafening her.

"Leon...?" She felt his hesistation, and it only served to frustrate her further.

"Yea, yea, m'still there," He mumbled, his voice holding a slight tremble to it. While he always kept a level head and quick wit in which he secretly prided himself in, he felt like he'll crumble any second now. He didn't know what was up with him this time, this dread...

"Leon!" Hunnigan yelled, her brows furrowed. "Turn on the video chat, I gotta see if you are in a decent state at all."

He flinched, hating the way it all got to him. He let out a grumble and clicked the video chat feature, his broken front camera displaying him in a slightly blurry picture. And yet, the redness to his nose and cheeks was obvious. Not only was he tipsy, but he seemed... shaken.

"There you are. Now, just listen. I don't know what the hell is up with you, but i wanna see you at the headquarters in half an hour. Not a minute later." The woman's brows were scrunched together, her red, round glasses gently slipping near the tip of her nose.

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a weak smile, letting out a loud exhale when she nodded and ended the call. He hid his face in his hands, letting out yet another shaky breath.

***

"...And as you can see, it's not a regular bioweapon. All we know is that the Umbrella unit in Wuhan is probably responsible for this. We probably will have to send you and a few other agents to China for further investigation, and hopefully have you eliminate the risks." Hunnigan spoke in a levelled tone, holding a bunch of documents in her slender hands as she finished giving him an overview of the situation, although it was still too vague to take action properly. Leon stood there, really out of it. While he was showered and wearing clean clothes, he felt nasty. He was so tired, so guilty over snapping at everyone, even the kind young man at the lobby. 'God damn it Kennedy, what has he done to you?' he thought, only registering what she was saying. He spared a moment to think about the whole ordeal though, a spark of realisation dawning on him.

"Does that mean they want to... eliminate civilians in an unassuming way? With just a mutated flu, is that it?" He suggested, pointing at one of the reports on his colleague's desk.

Ingrid's eyes widened, she glanced at the document and back at him in bemusement.

"Now that's a... dark scenario. A scarily fitting one at that," She responded, her voice holding a hint of nervousness.

"Didn't we have scarier stuff out there, though? A deadly cold is still better than an ARG-esque rendition of The Walking Dead." He scoffed bitterly, shooting her a glance. Holding onto cynical humour was his only grip on sanity, the last desperate scratch at the border of being in his right mind. He was terrified deep inside, like that boy he used to be. The poor, shaken young man, covered in sewage and blood, forced to kill and hopefully not get killed. He's been running scared for so many years. It all got him want to just have it all flip backwards and let him aim the glock at his temple. He missed the cheery lad he used to be. The spring in his step, the spark in his navy eyes that restored hope in everyone's hearts is long gone.

And yet, his own heart pumped with this foolish, childish virtue.

"Leon," the woman spoke in a quieter tone, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You know you've got this. You've got it all this time. You have this resilience in you that inspires many." She tried reassuring him, patting his shoulder softly. While it was rare for her to drop her façade of stoic professionalism, she sensed it's not something worth being cold over. Like they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed.

"Yea, inspires Benford to make me a slave." He mumbled, although his expression softened at her touch.

"Thanks, Hunnigan. I... I appreciate it. We're in this together, ain't we?" He shot her a more determined look, the corners of his lips twitching up just a little bit further up. The woman nodded, a small smile making way to her face as well.

He really felt grateful for having solace in her, it seemed as they understood eachother without speaking a word. She truly was a friend to him, teaming up with him through the trenches of this rotting world.

Life couldn't be that way until the end. It has to be different someday. It has to.

***

It's been quite a bit since Hunnigan called him in, and there was no actual news. The president dialled him a few times and spoke about this as well, although he was just as confused and frantic as they all were. The ordeal sparked unsettlement in the HQ, and it soon was to spread like a sickening virus to the outside world.

Figuratively and literally.

"Agent Kennedy, I'm afraid it's going to be something we hadn't seen before, I-I need to inform you beforehand that it's a worldwide crisis..." President Benford spoke frantically, it was a bit unlike him. Leon was watching the news while on the phone with him, trying his best to focus on both.

"The countries of British Islands are currently in lockdown due to a pandemic spreading, the citizens are advised to not leave their houses without protective masks on," There it was, the thing everyone was whispering about at the DSO headquarters. It was a hush-hush topic, as no one knew for sure. Or rather, no one wanted to be sure of something like this.

"Well yes, I can definitely figure as much. The UK is already quarantined, ain't it? What about China, then? Wouldn't that make a potential mission harder to even initiate?" The man spoke up, fiddling with an empty glass in front of him. He surprisingly wasn't drinking this time around, though. He secretly hoped that the mission would've been handled differently, without his involvement. It was hard to imagine a different scenario, though. It's the sad truth - whenever there's real danger, he's gotta step in.

"No. If anything, it'll be a bit easier. Civilians will stay home, and your job will be limited to entering the Umbrella facility. You might be sent to Wuhan along a few agents that'll be chosen for the job. We won't make the team larger than maybe three units at best." The older man explained, all while Leon was rubbing his temples in annoyance.

"Sure, easier..." The blonde blurted out quietly, biting his lip. He didn't know what's been getting into him lately, something akin to a midlife crisis of some sort. While still strong and energetic, he was a wreck mentally. Like a reanimated corpse. He shuddered at the imagery, the picture hitting too close to what he's been dealing with during T-virus outbreaks.

"I will pretend i didn't hear that." The president replied in a stern voice, clearly displeased with the agent's demeanour. They were friends, but also on boss-employee terms. That came first, unfortunately.

In no time, languid days of downing whiskey and eating store bought lasagna were cut short before Leon knew it. The man was currently being transported to China with a few other agents. While they did technically form a team, he knew he'll probably have to do most of the dirty work including sneaking into the labs while they corner the scientists. His earlier apprehension and apathy was replaced with a newfound determination: he knew it's just a matter of time for a virus outbreak to come to fruition, and it's not even clear what kind of virus it really is. Nothing he's been dealing with before, yet nothing he couldn't handle. Right?

***

Wuhan, China - 01/23/2020

The blonde man's finger tapped against the barrel of his handgun nervously. It was rare for him to fidget, but something about the whole ordeal was off in general. Day of the Wacko, he thought to himself.

As him and the team were discussing details of breaking in while hiding between a field of some large containers, they came to a conclusion that the three younger agents should hide in strategic spots and eventually corner anyone who gets on Leon's tail, who's going to be responsible for investigating and essentially just sneaking around the enemy's lair. Exactly how he knew it'd go. While he was tired and annoyed, he didn't trust anyone else to do this quite like he did.

"Roost to Condor One." The slightly noisy sound of a leveled mezzo-soprano voice came from his COM, successfully cutting his pondering short.

"Condor One here, we're near the facility's rear gate. Obviously just trying to break in through the gate itself is not the way, we're trying to figure out if there's a way through the sewers, perhaps." Leon responded, keeping his voice hushed as he spoke to Hunnigan. However his attempts to stay discreet were cut short as one of the rookies shouted cheerfully that he found a sewer entrance that could directly lead to the facility. The older agent facepalmed discreetly and another young rookie chided her teammate, her tone also hushed despite the sternness.

"We've got to go there soon. Condor One out." Leon hang up, waving his hand at the rookies and trotting closer to the canalisation entrance in the ground. He wasted no time in asking the young woman for help with moving it aside, she seemed quite toned compared to the other two men they've been working with. Once they could enter, they immediately rushed inside the sewers, the last of the agents clumsily pulling the cover back on once he slipped in as well.

The way inside Umbrella's building wasn't exactly pleasant. The stench of rot and filth was unbearable, it was a real challenge to not slip on some of the disgusting, miscellaneous things on the concrete. Other agents whined under their noses, and Leon couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"When I was your age, I tumbled around worse smut." He quipped, trying to lift the mood. All he got in response were stifled chuckles, and he mentally cursed himself for his choice of words. His embarrassment was short lived once they found a ladder that could lead to the building's rear gate.

Everything else went pretty much according to plan, even Leon's silent vow to not scold the everliving shit out of his colleagues. They were clumsy, they seemed too careless. They're still kids, they've got to learn the ropes, you used to be just like them, he repeated in his mind.

While they managed to break into a cloakroom and get their hands on janitor attire, the older agent began to look for somewhere more private so he could dial Hunnigan. The whole ordeal was so vague, he didn't even know what the hell's he looking for.

"Condor One to Roost, we've successfully broke in. I'm currently trying to locate a lab, although I'm not exactly sure what I gotta look out for," He whispered while tucked away in a bathroom stall, constantly looking around for cameras. Chill out, it's illegal to monitor bathrooms... So is creating bioweapons, and yet here we are, he paled at the thought.

"From the info gathered from a spy, you should head to the third floor and look for room number 3048. That's the place suspected of having a potential new bioweapon hidden there." Hunnigan responded, catching onto his quiet voice and figuring she better be careful as well.

"Copy that. I'll go right away. Condor One out." He hang up, shoving his COM into his pocket and sighing. He carefully listened for a clue of his team's diversion starting so that he could leave and head straight to the point. The plan was to get the attention of scientists on something insignificant so that he could get to point B.

A creaky moan reverberated through the halls, and concerned voices echoed. He chuckled to himself, amused at his colleague's theatrical display. The blonde quickly snapped out of it though, double checking if he's got everything on him and beginning to head straight for the third floor.

It was surprisingly easy, all he had to do was evading a few oddly placed cameras making his way up some stairs. Looks like they're not exactly fit. Tch, the elevator's for pussies, he mused to himself. He was quiet as a mouse, reaching the third floor without even wheezing from extertion it must've taken. The hall was darker than the other ones, and just a few doors had light peeking through the cracks. The most dim, barely visible brightness was right at the spot he was just meant to find - lab 3048. Bingo.

The agent quietly sneaked closer, looking around for security cameras. To his surprise, there was only one, and it only recorded the other end of this hallway. As he walked, he stopped in his tracks right at the large, white door. Was he supposed to just barge in and get attention on himself or what? His hesistation and also his perfectly seamless approach was ruined by his COM ringing, making him hiss out a panicked curse as he quickly spoke to the device, his voice oddly high and quiet.

"Not now, Hunnigan! Not now!!" he pleaded, hearing someone behind the heavy door scrambling frantically. Before his informator even responded, the entrance was swung open by someone.

This encounter had this person fall back to his chair, slumping in it while breathing heavily as a few of the messy documents on his desk were sent flying to the floor.

"Leon, what are you doing here?!" the person shouted, his eyes blown wide.

The agent stood there, not even reaching for his gun with how shocked he was. However, his stunned expression quickly gave way to fury as he stormed to grab the man by his shoulder, pinning him harshly to the desk's corner as he grabbed his firearm and pointed it at his head. The man hissed, his brows furrowing, even though he only flailed a bit to try and squirm away.

"Luis, what the fuck?! Was that whole ordeal staged? Are you still working with that mad woman?! You bad fucking liar, how could you do this," he rasped, his ocean blue eyes piercing into the Spaniard's brown ones in utter rage. His grip on his shoulder never lessened, mercy barely holding onto him by a thread.

Luis Serra Navarro. There he was. Not blown up somewhere in the Valdelobos mine, being remember by Leon as a remarkable example of self fueled redemption and determination. There he was, putting utmost care to working for the very company that ruined many lives, ruined Leon's life, crawling back to eat from their hands like a pathetic bitch. Yes, that's what he is, a bastard mutt that betrayed him.

And yet, a twinge of something bright tugged at his heartstrings. He's alive and well. Right in his arms, just inches between them. This childish hope alongside a whirl of questions flied around his head like a bunch of wild bats, the more regretful and frustrated ones mixed with the more... exciting ones, in a way. Did he miss him? What was he up to? Has he thought about him? How did he stay so sweet?

"Amigo, let me explain-" Luis wheezed out the plea, his expression full of remorse. He yelped quietly, his eyes squeezed shut when Leon only snarled in response.

"I am NOT your amigo. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that some sick joke? Was the cash worth more than your honour?" he mocked him sternly, gripping his shoulders until his knuckles were white. Deep inside, he was terrified and basically screaming at himself to drop the gun. He didn't want to shoot, not at him. Betrayed or not, it's still Luis. Very real and very much still himself. His soft brown locks pulled into a tiny bun at the back, the perfectly sunkissed skin, his stubble grown just a little more than usual. Just like he remembered.

"Mi vida, please! I-" the scientist coughed, shaking. He looked like a wet dog, to put it lightly. His state was worrying. The eye bags he normally had were way deeper and darker in hue. His hair was messy and a bit oily. His normally syrupy lips were chapped. Did he really remember them as syrupy? God damn it, but they never kissed. Why was he even thinking like that?!

Sighing, he lowered the gun and slightly lessened the grip on Luis' arm. He nodded at him, although he was moments from snapping again.

"Back in the mines, it was a terrible deal with me. Ada-"

"Of course it's Ada. Is it all her bribery? Don't you have your own mind, your own view?" Leon cut him off with something akin to resentment and sadness in his voice, scowling as he shook the handgun menacingly.

"Sancho, Sancho... don't think about it like that. She paid good money for saving my life. They restored most bodily functions, although my nervous system is still quite, uh, jodido." The Spaniard offered a bashful grin at the last part, hoping to light up the mood. However his next admissions weren't so cheery.

"I'm gonna be straight with you. It was either getting back to working for those bastards, or death and no chance of ever starting over." Luis deadpanned, his head hanging low. He looked ashamed and miserable, his defeated expression making him almost unrecognisable.

Leon's hand trembled as he lowered his weapon down to his waist, then hooked it in its place and came up to engulf his long lost friend in an embrace, earning a loud squeak from him.

"Ay, ay! Careful...!" The brunette whined, a bit surprised, although in a pleasant way. He quickly melted into the clumsy hug, patting his back.

"I'll get you out of here. You'll see." Leon spoke in a hushed tone, repeating reassuring words to his long lost friend, lost love perhaps. He never believed in feelings developing so quickly, yet everything they did together only ensured him that they've got to stick together.

"But-"

"No buts, Luis. Listen, you're better than this. You know you are," Leon whispered against his neck, pressing his cheek against his. He hoped it wasn't too... obvious. It'd be weird if he swung that way. Or if himself did as well. Doesn't he sway there already?...

The Spaniard shuddered, his head spinning. He was truly touched, his hand slowly trailing down to hold the agent by the waist.

"Listen, we can cooperate. I will tell you everything about the project, as I'm sure you're there for our little... cold." He began speaking, his lip all bitten from unease. He was grateful to run into his old mate again, yet the circumstances only reminded him of the time when he was still a fishy creep to Leon.

Leon loosened, pulling away with a confused expression before realisation downed on him, his jaw agape.

"So you're responsible for the COVID-19 outbreak...?"

"No, well, yes, but not quite," The man fumbled, with the hem of his labcoat, looking away.

"I was forced into the project under the threat of my past being exposed to the general public. I wouldn't hired in any other lab. I would probably be turned in for cooperating with terrorists. I didn't want to rot in Alcatraz or some other hellhole, but being cowardly isn't so great either..." He rasped, his voice full of remorse.

The blonde man looked down to his friend's gloved hands, the sterile scent of the lab mingling with his spicy, tangy perfume made him dizzy. In an oddly pleasant way at that. He scoffed quietly, raising the man to his feet.

"Listen, I have a plan. I'll pretend to capture you and deliver you to the US. Then I will convince the president to make you work for the S.T.A.R.S. researcher team."

"So I'll technically be held hostage, is that it...?" Luis sneaked in an uncertain giggle, shooting Leon a worried smile.

"No, dumbass. It's not a bad fate, trust me. I can absolutely get you out of legal consequences. My connections better be useful for once," Leon huffed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. He was determined to save his friend, score in the eyes of Benford, and maybe even...

He bit his lip, turning his head aside stubbornly and grabbing handcuffs from his belt. Luis shot him an alarmed look, but Leon only gave a nod in return and gestured him to stay still.

"Just let me do this. And dramaturgy will be much appreciated," He quipped, coming closer to restrain the brunette man, his hands behind his back now. He let out an indignant huff, shooting him a playful glance.

"Now that's one way to shortcut a date, Sancho."

Leon spluttered, giving him a smack to the hip.

"What- nevermind, let's just go. Pretend you're resisting," he murmured, grabbing Luis' wrists and dragging him to the exit, he also had his pistol ready to open fire, his focused and stern expression back in its full glory.

"Ah-a, there he is. Leon The Professional." Luis chuckled, winking smugly. All he got was a scoff in return, his wrists getting yanked harder.

"Just shut up. I wanna kidnap you properly," he muttered, squeezing the scientist's hands together.

"So much for a compliment..." Luis complained, pouting like a child.

***

The next few hours were a whirlwind of shooting up the damn place, successfully taking out quite a few guards and securing the SARS-COV-2 sample for further information. The other units cheered, shooting mockery at Luis every now and then. The Spaniard clenched his teeth, sitting through the constant jabs to his ego. Leon wasn't exactly pleased either, wishing he could just hold him instead of keeping a hawk's eye on the cuffed man. Hold him? What the fuck? He shook his head, unaware of the fact that a certain brown-eyed Hispanic 'hostage' was returning his concerned, fond gaze.

***

"Kennedy, what were you thinking? Bringing an enemy to the White House, is this some kind of joke?" president Adam Benford lamented, constantly pacing his office as Leon stood there awkwardly, holding his friend by the cuffs firmly yet gently.

"He could be a valuable asset, look at it like that," he began to nervously defend his plea for hiring Luis as the US government's bioweapon researcher, although the words he uttered burned. He didn't like referring to him as an 'asset', not even one bit. It gnawed at him to refer to his be- his friend in such a condescending way.

"Sure, because he knows all about it firsthand." Benford pointed out bitterly, glaring at the sheepish Spaniard before him. His head was hanging low, deep breaths escaping him.

"I... Mister President, I truly want to help. I was blackmailed, and I wish to-"

"Death is a better fate than rotting away in Umbrella HQ!" Benford deadpanned, the following silence hanging so heavy it could fill a deaf person with dread. Luis flinched, his head turning to the side as if he's been slapped.

Leon's brows furrowed, his grip on Luis' hands lessening just a bit. No, he isn't having it.

"You're not wrong, yet you must understand that Doctor Serra isn't a bad man. He was a great comrade back in Valdelobos, and..." He retorted defiantly, not relenting. He was dead set on freeing his friend at all costs.

"He betrayed you, Agent Kennedy. It's not what a good person would be up to." the president spoke with a desperate tinge to his tone, doing his best to just lead his best unit away from such a reckless idea.

"There's something you don't know, though. I was there when COVID-19 was created. It's not as complicated to me, I... I could figure out a vaccine," Luis spoke up at last, his voice scratchy from the scarce use of it for the past ten hours or so.

"In the eyes of a global pandemic and so many casualties so far, you're just now thinking about taking action? Is it remorse, or just a bastardly calculation to save your skin?" the president was seething, his words coming out as a low growl through clenched teeth.

"Adam, come on!" Leon begged, resorting to a first name basis with the representative figure of the United States himself. They are on good terms, sure, yet he's still a higher-up. Not only to him, hell, to everyone.

Benford sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It wasn't going to be a quick chat, that's for sure.

***

After long debates, weeks of house arrest and special force surveillance on Luis, a decision has been made. He's been assigned to cooperate with doctor Rebecca Chambers, a skilled genius among the S.T.A.R.S. scientists. Beat up, neglected in terms of health, with his old stab wound still restricting his movement somewhat, Leon made it his mini mission to nurse the Spaniard back to health. Well, he had nowhere to go, and he was assigned to look over him, keeping it in his apartment was the wisest choice...

Luis Serra Navarro was a free man who started a new life. Proud of himself and yet still guilty of contributing to the worldwide crisis, he worked like a busy bee to create an optimal kind of vaccine. Doted on and looked after by his amigo, he couldn't help but feel warm inside at the mere though of him. The blonde man's hair was already darkening as he aged, his bushy brows were always furrowed, yet he looked somewhat boyish still. Angelic, if he was allowed to think that. His Italian heritage came as a great surprise to the Spaniard, resulting in light-hearted teasing and playful quips in broken Italian. Luis' jokes sometimes brushed against the thin line between banter and flirting, and while the subject of them was pretty clueless, he did get that weird flutter sometimes.

***

Sitting with his legs crossed by the large window, Luis stared down at the dusky sky, sun setting behind many buildings of Washington DC. He sipped tea, unwinding after a long 24 hour shift of relentless work over the coronavirus shot. Leon was in the middle of cooking up a decent carbonara. His hispanic roommate often scolded for not knowing his way around the kitchen, saying how it's disgraceful for an Italian to suck so bad he could burn water in a kettle. While not letting it show much, the agent's ego was deeply wounded. He was dead set on proving he could replicate the hearty meals from his childhood. Whew, his childhood... Rough and cold, being tossed around and shoved aside as he was born into the Kennedy mafia, confessing it all to Luis was quite the hard candy, to put it lightly.

After twenty minutes of quiet noises reverberating through the small apartment, Leon was slowly stepping closer to his friend's side. Shaking his head, he forced himself to sit on the floor as well. He hated being 'improper' or however he put it, but his beloved's habits felt like the law.

Speaking of which, his eyes lit up at the sight of toasty food and his... saviour, so to speak. He hummed in approval when he sat by his side, nodding and whispering softly.

"Muchas gracias, mi estrella. It smells scrumptious." He smiled fondly, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of fresh carbonara. His eyes widened, and he hummed while shoveling a few more forkfuls of food, much to Leon's amusement.

"Did I improve that much?" he asked in a teasing tone, eating his portion more slowly.

"It's delish, Sancho. You've come a long way, I'm proud of you." Luis sighed in contentment, practically inhaling the food.

His words made Leon's heart stir, a bit of hesistation giving way to a shoot of confidence. He didn't know what got into him all of a sudden. He set his plate on the floor next to them, earning a puzzled hum from the Spaniard. The small noise morphed into a soft yelp when Leon leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against Luis' with his eyes half lidded. They stared deeply into his hazel ones, a low purr escaping him.

"So did you, Don Quixote. I'm proud of you as well," he whispered, his nose brushing against his. The blonde's freshly shaved beard contrasted with the brunette's scruffy stubble, making for a nice completion. Like polar opposites, they gravitated towards eachother. Leon's cold navy eyes were full of this spark that everyone thought was dead and gone.

"Dios mio..." Luis whispered, enamoured and captivated with the sight before him. He took in every small scar, every mole and birthmark, everything about the Adonis' offspring before him.

Leon's hand cupped his face, and he planted a tiny peck on the tip of his nose. It was barely there, yet it held more than just a pleasant gesture. It meant closure. It meant tenderness. It meant something that they both didn't dare to say out loud.

***

Leon was never exactly up for forming a family. He's quite good with kids, also he adores and loves women, sure. Both him and Luis have a reputation of being cheeky and flirty all the time. And yet, this feline magnetism in both of them didn't clash, it merged. With Leon's tenderness that mixed with smugness and Luis' carnal and candid demeanour, they completed eachother. And that's what made it a match made in hell we call our planet.

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[molnyash-art]

Luis thinking of Leon while kissing another man? More likely than you think 😏❤️‍🔥

New chapter of the serennedy fic me and @nadiasna7 are working on is already out on AO3 🔥