#re leon x reader

[rat-typewriter]

Clumsy - Leon Kennedy x Reader

proofread?: I will soon,,,, i promise

summary: You injure yourself; Leon wishes you'd be more careful.

You wished you had been looking where you had been going. Maybe then, you wouldn't have had to experience the horrible moment of free-fall as you realise that you've overstepped slightly and are about to tumble down the stairs. On your way down, not only did you smack your head into the wall - giving yourself a nosebleed - and crack your phone screen, but you landed on your ankle at an awkward angle.

Which really fucking hurt.

For a moment, you lay in a pathetic heap at the bottom of the stairwell - stunned by the whole experience. It was only when you heard Leon’s voice from several flights up that you snapped out of your daze.

“Y/N, Have you got the keys?” You quickly heaved yourself up into a sitting position, rummaging through your pockets - which contained no keys.

Shit.

You could picture them, still sat on your coffee table - now locked inside your flat.

Even from there, you could practically hear the teasing grin on his face as he added. “You always forget them.” 

Sighing, you moved to stand - using the handrail to heave yourself up. 

“I don’t have them.” You groaned. “God, I’m sorry, I’ve got to stop-”

Pain shot up through your leg - forcing a surprised yelp out of your throat. You veered sideways, grabbing the handrail for support as you doubled over in agony.

“Y/N?” 

Leon’s footsteps echoed as he thundered down the stairs, calling your name again. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Ow, fuck.

Blood dripped out of your nose - the warm wetness running down your chin - clumsily you wiped it away, smearing red across your hand. 

“Y/N!” 

The panic in Leon’s usually steady voice made you feel a little ill (or maybe it was the way your head spun after daring to peer down at your ankle, which seemed to be at an interesting angle). You were by no means squeamish; in your line of work there simply wasn’t room to be. But in that moment - at eleven forty-four at night, in the stairwell of your flat - you weren’t feeling so brave.  

Leon rounded the corner and took the last flight of stairs three at a time - practically skidding to a halt beside you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, allowing you to lean on him as he slowly lowered you to the ground. 

“What happened?” He scanned your body; swearing quietly as he took in the blood (which although was only from your nose, you realised looked quite worrying when it was smeared across your shirt and hands). “Shit, Y/N. I’m going to call someone-”

He moved to stand and you grabbed his shoulder. “I’m alright!” You blurted out, your voice shaking a little. “Seriously, I’m okay.” You smiled in what you hoped to be a reassuring fashion - but Leon stared back, unimpressed. Admittedly you were not even remotely okay, but hearing your level-headed boyfriend panic filled you with anxiety.

“Yeah - no you’re not, sweetheart.” 

You laughed flatly. “Yeah, okay.”

---

You had never thought your city had many potholes, before making the drive to the hospital with a broken ankle. Leon did his best to avoid them all - but for each one he hit, you swore loudly - earning a flinch and slightly alarmed apology from him.

Now you sat in the Accident and Emergency waiting room, alone - save for a drunken girl who had called five (or was it six?) friends to cry about something unintelligible. According to the clock hung on the sterile white wall, an hour and twenty minutes had passed since the receptionist told you that someone would be “right with you” (before disappearing to god knows where). 

Despite your best efforts, sleep was out of the question - even when you tucked your head under Leon’s chin, successfully blocking out the garish white lights - the angry throbbing from your swollen foot was too hard to ignore. From time-to-time you felt Leon begin to drift off, before jerking awake; you felt terrible for dragging him out, just because you were so clumsy. 

Despite his snarky remarks - rarely did you ever have a legitimate disagreement. You had playful spats and often pushed each other's buttons - but Leon always knew where to draw the line.  

You knew he put up with a hell of a lot from you. Even the time your cat died and you refused to leave your flat for a month. He patiently came over and sat with you every single day until you felt ready to come out again. Even when you came back from missions and were too afraid to sleep. He’d sit awake with you watching every film under the sun until you fell asleep. Even the times where you did something genuinely stupid - touching an oven tray with your bare hands, locking yourself out for the millionth time - he’d just sigh and tease you for being such a ditz. But every time his voice - through the speaker of your phone would say:

It’s okay, don’t worry about it.

I’m on my way; I’ll see you soon.

Hang tight, sweetheart.

He was everything to you. You glanced up at him, the movement enough to disturb him from his bored trance.

“I’m sure it won’t be long now.” He squeezed you gently, tightening his arm around your waist and you smiled awkwardly.

“Sorry." 

He cocked his head at you, giving you a tired smile. “You haven’t got anything to apologise for. Those stairs are far too steep - they’re an accident waiting to happen.” 

They really weren’t. And you both knew this. It was just a regular flight of stairs and you hadn’t been looking where you were going. 

You looked down at your foot, which had contentedly settled as an angry shade of purple. You were clumsy. A great officer - you kept up with Leon on missions easily, but you had a tendency to misjudge. It drove your boyfriend mad - your undying (perhaps foolish) confidence that I can make that jump or I'll be able to outrun those guys. His exasperated sighs and swearing under his breath often misled others. It always seemed to come as quite a shock that - although you spent a fair amount of time bumping heads, that not only did you work together - but you also loved one another.

After being separated in missions - no matter how much ranted about how you were too reckless or unprofessional or infuriating - he'd always squeeze your hand.

You didn't know what you did to deserve him. You wished you knew.

Pulling you from your thoughts, Leon pressed a kiss to your temple.

"You're thinking too hard." He spoke quietly. "That's never a good thing."

You shifted in your seat, thinking carefully before you spoke.

"Please don't leave me," 

You felt Leon sir back a little and - even though didn't move to look at his face - you felt him almost spluttering; buffering through various expressions as he scrambled for a response.

He started to speak a couple of times, cutting himself off before he could even form the first word. Finally, he let out a breathy laugh.

"What?" He said, craning his neck slightly to get a better look at your face.

You stared at the floor still, afraid to move. God, you sounded pathetic. So attention-seeking; so whiny.

"I-" You paused to suck in a breath, your throat beginning to shut. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Leon."

He laughed again, this time more firmly, shaking his head. "Do I look like I could function without you?"

What is he talking about? You took deep breaths and tried to steady yourself and focus on him. 

He had turned to you, propping himself up with his elbow on the back of your seat. Leon wasn't a massively touchy person - not in public at least - but you noticed how suddenly there were mere inches between you. Even now, you could see a glimpse of yourself, a gangly twenty year-old at the Police Academy in Racoon City - as the boy who sat next to you asked for your number.

He raised his eyebrows, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. "I had no idea I seemed so put together."

"I-" Your voice came out as a sort of hollow whisper. "What?"

He smiled, leaning closer as he laughed again. "M'not going to leave you, sweetheart. I thought it was obvious, but you're going to have to try a little harder than a broken ankle to get rid of me." 

A weak laugh forced its way out of you - even when you were a teenager, you had been a nervous-laugher. In the back of your mind, you were vaguely grateful that the drunken girl had now passed out across a row of seats - right then, it was only Leon.

"Really?" You said.

"Mhm." He nodded, barely a hint of his usual smugness remaining in his voice. "I mean - as long as you still want me around - I'm going to need you."

He sat back, raising an eyebrow at you. "I wouldn't want anyone else watching my back."

You giggled again, a memory of your time in the academy appearing in your mind.

"Even the time I tripped us both up in front of Officer James?"

He nodded, laughing. "Yeah, even so."

Leaning into his side again, you felt a little silly. Leon never let you feel unloved, it was just your own insecurity that got the better of you from time to time.

For a moment you sat in silence, comfortably nestled against one another. 

Leon sighed.

"Do you think they've forgotten us?" You asked, watching the empty reception desk carefully.

"Probably." He said. "Oh well,"

After another mind-numbingly dull forty minutes, a nurse appeared - taking you for x-rays and various tests. By the time you and Leon finally left the hospital, the sky was beginning to lighten. 

Leon watched nervously as you struggled with your crutches, limping through the car park. He made sure to never be more than a pace or so away from you, his hands poised so he could leap forwards and catch you whenever you stumbled.

“I’m not going to break, Leon.” You laughed watching his wide-eyed expression as you faltered slightly - but caught yourself easily. 

“I know,” He said, swallowing - but still not taking his eyes off of you. “I’m just here-” you slipped again and he grabbed you around the waist, supporting you. He let out a sigh before continuing. “I’m just here in case that happens.”

“Who would have thought it, stoic Agent Kennedy - all worried, just for little old me.” you grinned, raising an eyebrow - earning a huff from Leon.

“Well, clearly, you need my help.” 

“Oh do I?” you stumbled again; Leon caught you. 

This time it was his turn to raise his eyebrows, his signature cocky smile speaking for itself.

As much as you hated to admit it, that smile never failed to make you weak at the knees. You rolled your eyes, turning away - there was no way you’d ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Shut up.” you huffed.

“I didn’t say anything.” he said, feigning innocence. You could hear his smugness.

“You were about to.” you gently shoved him with your hip - causing him to playfully lift you an inch or so off the ground. 

“I’d be careful, if I were you, agent L/N. I might just drop you.”

With a fake gasp you responded. “Oh you wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

A/N: Aaa I love leon so muchhh if anyone has only more re4 or re8 requests pls send them!!!

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Growing Pains CH2 (MWC Day 8!)

Pairing: RE2 Leon Kennedy x Male(Intended) Reader Summary: College AU/Meet-cute(?) The cute guy that Claire hangs out with finally works up the courage to talk to you. Words: 1,662/200 Warnings: a few curse words but that's to be expected. Notes: Leon is super shy and awkward, I haven't read through it but when I was writing the dialogue and the text between it felt pretty chunky so if anyone has notes about that please let me know, I'm experimenting a little with the paragraphs, let me know if you liked the smaller ones better.

Navigation | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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Friday felt like it would never end, like you’d never be able to catch a break. You had to feel grateful, though, it hadn’t rained yet and your weather app told you it would be sunny all day. The extreme difference in the weather kept you reeling, back home the temperature and weather were usually consistent with the month, but after moving closer to school you'd noticed that the weather was a lot more sporadic here; yesterday it had been freezing and pouring for the majority of the day, getting as low as 10 °C with a warning for hail. Today was the complete opposite, the temperature had been between 26 and 32 °C with absolutely no clouds in sight. The extreme (and unwarranted) differences in the weather had left you staggering to catch up, you’d woken up that morning absolutely drenched in sweat and blinded by the sun. Having set your thermostat to keep up with the freezing temperatures outside and the poor insulation of your cheap apartment, since it had been cloudy all week you never bothered with your curtains or blinds but clearly that was a mistake. 

You probably shouldn't say you hated Chicago, it was nice sometimes and the students here were pretty respectful. You could count on one hand all of the times you’ve actually had a bad customer experience and all of them centered around finals or exams. You look up as the bell dings and a customer enters, he’s huge, completely dwarfing you in size. As soon as he steps up to the counter you recognize him, his pale skin, and the weird markings on his face. You’ve heard Claire complaining about him time and time again, he was apparently so strict that no one in his classes has ever passed. 

You highly doubted that no one’s ever passed but since she never gave you his name, and only referred to him as the Evil Tyrant of the West Wing, you could never fact-check her. Evil tyrant or not, you still had a job to do and money to make so, you put on your best smile and greeted him politely. He orders a black coffee and a triple shot of expresso, you’re a little intimidated by his voice, and maybe his order but you know plenty of guys with his stature and intimidating aura who are actually sweethearts. The order is simple, youve made it so many times for the poor professors who used to come by in the dead of night, it's pure muscle memory at this point. Getting his order made and totaled up on the register takes little to no thought, he waits like he's got better things to do, and before you can tell him he tosses the exact total onto the counter, paying without thanking (or tipping) you. 

He scoops up his two drinks before marching out of the shop. His footsteps are loud and heavy, clunky boots dropping down hard onto the linoleum like you used to do as a pubescent 16-year-old throwing a tantrum, you think about how every time you did that your mom would call you disrespectful and she’d take away your phone. At that thought small smile forms on your face, you can't help but feel a little amused at the image of your tiny, 5’4 mother disciplining a man about as tall and wide as a skyscraper. “What an ass.” You huff and glance back down at the tip jar, it was a measly four bucks and some change, mostly quarters. You’ve had worse tips, at least this could buy you a water and maybe some peanuts or sunflower seeds if you chose right. 

You lean against the counter and cast a glance out of the big windows at the front, the guy Claire eats with is out there looking like a terrified puppy, he’s gripping the handles of his bike tightly as the tyrant guy chews into him for something you can only imagine. You watch as the tyrant storms off, pretty dramatically, Claire's friend puts up his bike and locks it to the pole before coming inside, he flinches when he sees you watching and shakily pulls off his (stupid-looking) helmet. “You- uh… Did you see all that?” His voice shakes slightly and he fidgets with the helmet nervously “Maybe.” You shrug wanting to cut the guy some slack. “Was it something you wanted me to see?” He shakes his head and you go back to the register, “Then I guess I didn't see anything.” He visibly relaxes but his steps toward the counter are a little shaky, you’re already tapping his order into the register by the time he gets up to the counter. “I didn't even order yet…” He sounds a little flustered and you look up to see that his cheeks have gone pink. “You get the same thing every time.” You counter, tapping the green total button on the register, “What if I wanted something different.” His voice evens out like he's getting more comfortable. “Did you?” - “No.” You chuckle at the absurdity and shake your head. 

“2.95 big guy.” There's a pause and you look up expectantly, he's looking at you star-struck but as soon as you make eye contact he fumbles for his wallet, dropping his helmet in the process. “Um- im so sorry…” He apologizes quickly, handing you a five and bending to pick up his helmet. “S’fine.” you pause to put his cash into the register and pull out his change. “Two-oh-five is your change.” You hand it back only for him to drop it into your tip jar, he smiles and takes his cookie when you hand it to him. “Is- uh. I mean- is Claire not here today?” He fumbles a little, tearing off pieces of his cookie. 

You shake your head “Nah, not yet. Summer’s always slow.” He nods along with you, it's obvious he knows Claire isn't here. You look over at the windows again and check your watch, it's just about closing time. “Why is that?” He breaks the silence as you log out of the register, you look up at him a little caught off guard, “Hm? Why what?” His cheeks go pink and he fumbles for words- “Um… I mean- uh. Why is summer always slow?” You nod, understanding what he meant, and go back to the register with a shrug, “Luis says it’s ‘cause of the heat, no one wants hot drinks.” He nods slightly and finishes off his cookie, crumpling up the napkin as he lingers. It's not hard to see that he wants to keep talking to you and you almost feel bad for him, you finish logging off and nod in the direction of the trash can. “Bet you a free drink you can't get that into the trash from here.” You know you shouldn't be handing out drinks but he's too cute and it's the first thing that pops into your head. 

He visibly lights up, his eyes get wider and his back straightens “Alright.” He looks back at the trash can by the door, taking his attention off of you. You can't help but admire him while he lines up his shot, he's got a cute side profile, he's pretty tall, and his hair looks nice and soft. He raises the napkin over his head and tosses it in, you tear your eyes away from the muscle in his arms to see the balled-up napkin bounce off the window and into the trash. He looks back at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, you shrug and smile back while turning to grab a cup. “I was on the basketball team in high school.” He says sounding more confident than he had earlier, you snort as he reveals this crucial information after he wins your little game. 

“Guess I set myself up then, huh?” You get a cup and turn back to him, “Whatchu want?” He looks proud of himself, his shoulders relaxed and held back confidently. You can't help but think he looks handsome when he’s confident like this, the worry lines on his face disappear, his brows unfurrow, and he actually looks his age. “What if…” He trails off, his demeanor turning anxious again. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the effort, “uh- w- what if… I got your number, instead of a drink?” A smile forces its way onto your face, he looks so nervous he might give himself an aneurysm. You huff playfully, unable to resist, this has to be the highlight of your week. 

You turn away from him to brew an iced coffee, It might be a little mean for you to draw this out, to make him worry more. “You want milk and sugar?” But you’ve always struggled with self-control. There's a long pause, before- “Ye… um yes please.” His voice is small and there's a slight shake if you listen close enough. You feel a little bad for doing this but you continue, you never pussy out. You finish brewing his coffee and in a smooth, well-practiced motion, you slap a sticker on the side and mark it with your name and number, putting a little x underneath. 

You hand it to him and without giving him time to think or breathe you herd him out of the shop. “Gotta close, call me later.” You shut and lock the door as he stands in front of it bewildered, his brain takes a while to catch up and you see him look down at the coffee in his hand and start to turn around but you’re faster; turning off the open sign and closing the blinds with a speed that you should be using for more important things, like getting dressed when you’re late to class, or finishing an essay that's about to be overdue, not being mysterious to the cute guy who still hasn't given you his name.

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A/N: it's getting easier and easier to write already, it didn't take half as long as yesterday's did to get 1,000 words. It feels so much good to actually feel happy writing. I can't help but feel worried it's not going to last forever with my fluctuating mental health but I've been looking up a few books to help improve my writing, grammar, flow, and punctuation and I've been seeing a lot of these writers saying that it's okay for you to be worried about that and to just push through.

[reds-fluff-extravaganza]

Leon Kennedy x Reader

Requested over on ao3! Leon has a bad day, and reader comforts him!

As soon as Leon had come in to work, he had a feeling it was not going to be a good day. He was nearly late as his alarm went off later than usual and he couldn’t find his keys, which were hiding from his view, got coffee spilled on his jacket, and a few other things that happened throughout the rest of the day, including the air conditioning system going out for a few hours, which made the whole place unbearably hot. The only person that was decent to him today was Hunnigan, but that was after she noticed he wasn’t having a good morning.

So when it was time to leave, Leon did not think twice about it. He grabbed his things and left work with one thing on his mind: coming back home to you. He knew you would be there for him, to comfort him. As soon as he got home, to your shared home, he made his way inside. Once inside, he shut the door behind him and set his things aside.

“Welcome home, Leon.” You called out to him from the kitchen, once you had heard the door open and shut.

“Thanks,” he answered as he made his way to the kitchen, walked over to you, and hugged you from behind, which made you chuckle a bit in response and look back at him.

“Rough day?” he only nodded in response, nuzzling against the top of your head.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Leon. Do you maybe want to talk about it..? I’ll try to help make it better.”

“Alright,” he was a little hesitant, but he let you go from the hug, so you turned around to face him. You then proceeded to hand him a bowl.

“Here, I made some cowboy soup for dinner. Food always helps after a long day, or at least.. I think it does.” Leon was quiet for a moment as he took the bowl from you, before he asked,

“…why is it called that?” This only made you chuckle in response as you shrugged.

“Honestly I have no idea. I like the sound of it though.”

“It does have a ring to it”

“I think it’s based around what cowboys ate, taking canned vegetables and putting them over an open fire. Something like that.”

“Huh… you learn something new everyday I suppose,” you laughed a bit and nodded, making your way over to the table.

“Now let’s sit down and eat, and you tell me about your day.” You two sat at the table, you listening to Leon talk about his day, you occasionally nodded to acknowledge him and that you were listening, and you occasionally said something in response.

“It seems you had a rather… fun day at work,” you shook your head, “but at least it’s over now. Let’s clean up and we can cuddle on the couch, yeah?”

“Alright,” he chuckled a bit and stood up, helping you clean up the dining room table and with the dishes.

“Go get into something more comfortable, and we can find something to watch or something, okay?” Leon only nodded and made his way to your shared room, changing from his current outfit to a simple t shirt and pants before making his way back to the living room, where you were waiting for him. You smiled faintly as you heard him step into the room, looking back at him.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” He made his way over to you and sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“…thanks. For making my day a little better.”

“Of course, Leon, it’s what I’m here for.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek, but of course he took this opportunity to kiss you. It was just a short, simple peck, though, you didn’t mind.

“I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Leon.” You then rest your head on his shoulder as you turn your attention towards the TV, which you had turned on to something for you both to watch, as you cuddled on the couch for the rest of the evening.

[aokoaoi]

prologue : blessed curse.

a leon kennedy fanfiction.

synopsis,

you visit your home after being away from it for years, only to be greeted by an apocalypse. when meeting two individuals at a gas station after saving their lives, you follow them onto whatever shit they're planning.

content warning.

this book with include blood/gore, violence, vulgar language, major injuries, unhealthy thoughts, blah blah blah. although if you played re i doubt you'd find these topics hardly bothering🤷🏻‍♀️.

strictly a leon kennedy x reader book, reader is fem and will have fem pronouns:).

will follow the plot and events of resident evil 2. i also plan on continuing until re4, but my motivation is limited and God knows if I'll even make it that far🗣

I'm starting another phase, this is my way of coping. that's it lmao ty for reading mwa mwa

chapterlist.

𝟶 𝟷 ▎ 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

𝟶 𝟸 ▎ 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝟶 𝟹 ▎ 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚗 police 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝟶 𝟺 ▎ 𝚋𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚝[soon]

▎𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗘.

▎ 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗌. 𝗈𝗇-𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝗅𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽𝗒 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

𝟶𝟺.𝟷𝟼.𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 © 𝖺𝗈𝗄𝗈𝖺𝗈𝗂.

[bimboothefool]

Bleeding Heartthrob (Resident Babygirl—)

[lonely-hearts-hiraeth]

Bite my Heart

Type: uhhh general?

Fandom: Resident Evil, post re4 but no specific time

Characters/Parings: Leon S. Kennedy/GN! Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Reader got bitten, I can’t properly discern personalities because of autism so please tell me if this is ooc for him - I tried my best tho

Summary:  Leon finds you bitten when another outbreak happens, but he’s not leaving you behind.

The moment the outbreak started, Leon’s main priority was getting to you. His guns loaded at his hip as he dodged and weaved through hordes of the infected, shoving any that got too close to him.

  The male prayed that the infected hadn’t made their way into your apartment as it came into view. He could see zombies gathered around the entrance, seeing a few in different windows along the building.

  His heart was racing as he shot and sliced through zombies, rotting blood splattering on his face and clothing. You were the only thing that he was worried about, his only priority.

  Leon shoved his way into the building, closing the entrance door behind him to keep more zombies from getting in. Carefully walking through he hallways, gun ready to shoot anything that moves, he makes his way to the staircases. 

  As he made his way up, he shoved the few zombies he encountered down the concrete stairs, hearing bones crunch as limbs broke from the fall. He could her his heart beating in his ears as he finally saw your apartment number’s door.

  Yet his stomach dropped when he realized he door was left open, a faint light coming out from presumably your kitchen. He quickly made his way in, calling out your name as he searched around the apartment. As he searched, Leon heard shuffling coming from your bedroom, hope and despair both settling in his stomach as he makes his way over.

  He takes a moment to lean against the door, listening for more noise that would indicate that you were in there. As he heard shuffling, he let out a small breath before opening the door only to be greeted with a bat to his shin.

  He let out a short yell and fell to his knee, hissing at the pain while holding his leg.

  “Leon? What’re you- No, you need to leave, you can’t be here.” Your voice comes from his left, worried and apologetic, but stern. 

  “I’m here for you, dumbass. And what were you doing waiting with a bat? Zombies can’t open doors.” Leon remarks as he stands up. that hit was definitely going to leave a bruise at the very least

  You stay silent for a moment before you let out a small “Oh, right,” but you shake your head quickly. “It’s not safe, you have to go.” You hut your hands on his shoulders, trying to gently push him out of the room, yet he doesn’t move.

  “No shit it’s not safe, I’m here to get you out, now come on.” He grabs onto your arm to get you to follow him, only to hear you yelp in pain and pull your arm out of his grasp.

  “Sorry, did I hurt you-...” He trails off when he realizes why you reacted like that. It felt like time slowed, the world faded as his eyes locked onto the deep bite wound on your arm that you were trying to hide. 

  Only then did he realize how pale you were, the veins that made themselves so clear under your skin. He remembered that look so well, the look that coved Ashley and himself when they were infected with Las Plagas. 

You were bitten, and due to turn at any moment.

  Now he knew why you were so pushy to get him to leave.

  And everything around Leon fell apart. The sounds of undead faded and he felt sick. Everything he had been through felt like it was worth nothing, not because of the current outbreak, but because it affected you. You were bitten and now and nothing else mattered anymore. 

  “-eon! Leon!” He snapped back to reality, hearing you call his name and a loud crack echo through the house. A Zombie had wandered in and you were dealing with it as Leon spaced out.

  He turned and watched as it fell to the ground, pieces of it’s skull and brains falling to the ground and clinging to your bat from where you’d hit it’s head.

  “You have to go, I’m going to turn, Leon.” You plead, your eyes locked onto his.

  The male finally brings himself to speak. “No, I’m going to get out of this city and you’re coming with me, infected or not. And we’re going to get you a cure.” Leon states, and you know with how he said it, there’s no arguing with him.

[lexsssu]

That Leon piece rn was so good I'm like🤭🤭 kicking my feet and rolling i

That's it i need this man in me 😭😭 want him and his babies

Ps: do you think he'll work with lucifiel??

Glad you enjoyed my 1st ever Leon content ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Also now THIS is an interesting concept

So my muse suddenly kicked my ass and had me make these lil blurbs for how Lucifiel and Leon can go °ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ°

TAGS: Leon/Dragon!F!Reader

Leon finds you during another one of his lengthy missions, stuck within the bowels of some secret laboratory deep underground. Or, to be more specific, you find him

While he’s covered in blood, grime, and other gross substances that he’d long lost interest in identifying, you stand there in pristine condition with not a hair out of place or a crease on your clothes

He’s bleeding heavily and suffering from deep wounds after a fight with a BOW that almost cost him his life. Unfortunately, he’s out of any healing items, so he’s left lying down on the ground with a hand over the gash on his torso, bleeding out and awaiting the sweet embrace of death

When you appear before his eyes, Leon wonders for a moment if he’d already died and had been accepted into the pearly gates. How else would it explain your angelic looks to him?

The almost otherworldly glow that surrounded you, the pure and untouched ivory of your hair that tumbled down in waves and, when it brushed over his skin, felt like the softest of silk

And your eyes…they reminded Leon of sunshine

If this really was his last stand, he’s glad that an angel was sent down to guide his weary soul to his final resting place—

“Oh dear, you’re quite hurt…Well, I’ll fix you up real quick.”

Leon doesn’t understand the next events that swiftly take place. All he remembers is your soft finger being slipped into his mouth and the sweet yet rich taste of something spreading across his tongue

Suddenly, the cold and the pain seemed to disappear, almost as if he’d bathed in First Aid Spray and a mish-mash of herbs. Looking down at his torso, there’s only the sight of the blood that had seeped into his clothes, but the wound no longer bled, nor did it even ache

“Dragon’s blood. Even just a drop can fix almost anything,” you smile at him without reserve, and Leon finds himself at a loss

Unlike a certain freelance agent’s secretive nature, you hide nothing from him as you animatedly explain the benefits and uses of dragonsblood of all things

It's...cute af to be honest

“Looks like you got yourself into a real pickle, mister. I don’t know how I got here or where I am either, but I’m pretty sturdy, so I think it’d be for the best if we stick together.”

[Lucifiel has joined your party!]

Chris doesn’t let him live it down when he comes back to the US with you in tow

“How the fuck did you find a dragon girlfriend of all things and where can I get one—

[literate-bitch-boy]

Ashley: why are your tongues purple?

Leon: We both had purple slushies. It was great.

[frenchcoucou]

Leon and Carlos 🙈

ac: umbrella_rpd

[leonsrailway]

hey quick question are you KIDDING ME

[will-of-dumpsterfire]

[rat-typewriter]

Hello! Just read your Clumsy fic with Leon x Reader. It was very good and very true to my daily life😅

I was wondering if you do any angst? Like severely injured and the other person(in this case Leon or the Reader) is extremely worried and trying to save them. Ultimately you can choose if they die or not, but I just love the comfort when the other is dying or bleeding out.

Keep up the amazing work! And also may I draw a scene if you end up writing it? Please and thank you🥰🥰😚

Live to see another day - Leon Kennedy x fem!Reader

notes: ok so remember when RE4 was still relevant like two months ago and I said "hey guys, I've got this fic that'll be finished by friday!" and now its july???? Im so sorry and tysm for the request aussie,,, I loved writing this sm!!!!!!

Summary: You get shot, but Leon is trained in first aid by Saint John's Ambulance (I will write a summary when I'm less tired <3)

warnings: descriptions of injury, blood, guns - nothing too bad, all just average RE stuff, mentions of alcohol

This was not the kind of Thursday you had expected. Pulling a bandage from your kit you tried to remember your first aid training, but cold seemed to make your mind sluggish. The snow fell heavier; the clouds overhead and fields blending into a grey-white mass. 

This was supposed to be a simple mission; a quick in-and-out job. You and Leon had been sent to talk to some locals in a remote mountain town - just gather some information about the hiker disappearances. They had all been friendly and happy to share what they knew; it was odd talking to people who genuinely had no interest in hurting you, but you welcomed the surprise. Yet - as always seemed to be the way - not everyone was friendly. Especially not the man who shot you. Yeah, he wasn’t very nice at all actually.

Apply pressure

Yeah, alright. Apply pressure - okay.

Inhaling deeply, you surveyed the damage on your leg. Your black trousers were soaked in - what you could only imagine to be - blood and clung to your leg. From where you sat you could now see back the way you came. Your stomach dropped. A trail of blood - your blood - cut through pristine white snow. You glanced back down at your leg again; the fabric sticking to your skin. Shakily, you lifted your hands onto the wound. This was going to hurt. 

You pressed down on the gaping wound in your leg. A hiss escaped your mouth, followed by a string of curses. Blinking quickly you tried to focus on breathing steadily as stars danced before your eyes. 

Fucking hell, ouch. Fuck.

Leon, where are you?

Squeezing your eyes shut you remembered the young blonde-haired Leon's boyish grin. He used to be so naïeve and keen. The day he'd asked you out he had practically skipped away afterwards - turning back twice to smile at you and awkwardly offering a little wave before he finally turned the corner.

He had grown a lot since then; you both had. Even so, he never lost his playful nature - something you were glad for. It wasn’t quite the same - since as Leon grew more confident, he also realised how nervous he could make you - which meant that he now knew exactly how to tease you and make you blush. His newfound cockiness just attracted you to him all the more.

Flurries of snow had begun to settle in your hair. It was really cold. Your feet hurt from the cold; your face stung.

I need to get up.

I can't stay here.

With a surge or determination you hauled yourself up into a crouch - then a stand. Pain clawed up your thigh as your muscles cramped and sent you reeling into a nearby tree. Setting your jaw you huffed out a breath.

I'm not fucking dying here.

You took one step, pausing to let the agony rising in your chest settle again - still half-leaning on the tree. Setting off, you made it a few more steps before you faltered. Feeling a stab of pain through your leg, you sucked in the freezing air. As you tried to hobble onwards, one misstep became two and then became five, before you lost your balance entirely. Veering towards the ground, you shot out your hands. At the cost of grazing your hands across the jagged rocks, you were just able to catch yourself. Pausing for a moment, you let the shock of the impact with the hard surface pass, taking deep breaths.

The skin on your hands was raw. It stung in the frigid air. Despite the cold that seemed to overcome the rest of your body, your leg had this burning ache - as if someone was driving a hot poker straight into your bone.  

Something about the eerie silence and monochrome surroundings seemed to undermine time. The signal on your radio had gone dead long ago - something strange about this remote mountain village frying the circuits. To your numb body, struggling through the pain of walking didn’t seem worthwhile. Instead you lay, curled up - as best you could with the state of your leg - in the snow. 

I’m going to die, aren’t I?

I don’t want to die.

I’m so cold.

Then there came a far off sound. The crunching of footfall in the snow.

"Y/N?"

You froze. 

"Y/N?" His voice came again, this time sharper; louder. 

"Leon?" You said, your voice small and hoarse, you tried to push yourself up off the ground, which was not a good idea as it dragged your leg across the gravel. A string of curses leapt from your mouth. 

“Woah, woah-” He knelt at your side, pulling you up into a sitting position with a hand under each of your arms.  "Shit, what happened? You're freezing."

Leaning into his side, you struggled to form words - instead fisting your hands in his coat as you tried to think. The sudden brightness of the white snow made your head buzz, a dull ache running through it.

"I dunno." You grumbled. "Got shot, I guess."

"You guess?" Leon echoed. Although his tone was snarky, you knew he was just trying to keep you calm and focused. He fumbled with his radio in his free hand. "Hunnigan? We're going to need that helicopter after all." 

The sharp pain now spanned the whole of your leg - as though it were resonating up and down the bone. In a single, swift motion, Leon reached over, pressing his palm down onto the wound. You gasped, unintentionally jerking your leg.

“Easy,” He spoke softly, as though to a small, frightened animal - which you supposed was appropriate. “Easy there, deep breaths,”

Remaining firm, he kept his hand in place; you couldn’t help but admire his unwavering confidence. Any kind of hesitation or mistake would have just caused you more pain, 

You grit your teeth, inhaling as he said. Out of the corner of your eye you could see his grimace; the way his nose wrinkled up at the sight of your leg. You couldn’t blame him, the dried blood gave off a sickening metallic smell. You gagged.

“Hey, Y/N?” His tone was playful - maybe a little more upbeat than he intended - an overcompensation to hide the anxious undertone. 

“Hm?” You replied - not necessarily disinterested, but more focused on breathing normally.

"Do you remember when we met?"

You furrowed your brow. Inhale, exhale. "What?" 

"Don't you remember? That time at the party? I vomited in your car."

The memory flooded back. 

The base was loud enough that you felt it buzzing in your feet more than you could hear it clearly. The twenty - maybe thirty? - people throughout the darkened apartment didn’t really seem to care. Or notice, for that matter. 

Despite being a party consisting almost entirely of trainee officers - there was an awful lot of “drunk and disorderly” going on. Not to mention a fair amount of “Indecent exposure” and without a doubt “possession” of some substances. But, hey, you weren’t going to ruin their vibe. 

This definitely wasn’t really your scene. 

You hovered in beside the doorway to the kitchen - unsure of what to do with yourself. It felt wrong to leave so early, but your friends had long since abandoned you and it wasn’t as though they’d miss you anyway. A girl you knew stumbled past you - her blonde hair recognisable anywhere - and for a moment you thought about saying hi. Then you noticed the boy she had in tow, who seemed to be getting awfully handsy.  

Yeah, I’ll just leave them to it.

Abandoning your cup of - let’s be real - who-knows-what, you awkwardly squeezed through the crowd towards the front door. A few boys whistled at you as you tried to slip past them and out into the bleakly lit hallway. Although it was slightly easier to ignore as they were all drunk out their minds - it still made you wrinkle up your nose in disgust.

The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the noise of the party. Letting out a sigh, you stared blankly down the corridor, allowing your eyes to adjust to the brightness.

“Those guys are dicks.” 

You whipped your head around comically fast, confused as to who had spoken. 

“Down here,” He added and you turned, seeing him sat neatly beside the door, just at your feet. He didn’t look at you, instead staring at the wall across from him. Even if you hadn’t been able to smell the beer, you could tell from the way he loosely gripped the bottle that he was smashed.

“Oh - uh, yeah.” you replied. 

“I don’t even like parties.” He said, looking up at you. “I have no idea why I’m here.”

As you held his gaze, shrugging sympathetically - you suddenly were able to place his face. He sat next to you in one of your lectures - it must have been a dull one, because you also remembered (making your face heat up a little) that you had spent a considerable amount of time thinking how cute he was. 

What was his name?

Somehow he looked completely different here - instead of being so tightly strung and nervous that he looked as though he might just collapse if anyone so much as looked at him, he seemed freer; calmer. His hair was messier too, you noticed, as he pushed it back out of his eyes - setting off butterflies in your stomach.

Leon. That was it.

“If it helps, it’s not really my scene either. I’m headed home,” you offered with a small smile. 

"I don't know if you've noticed," He said, matter-of-factly. "But I'm quite drunk, actually."

You stifled a giggle - he was much more fun to talk to like this, rather than his up-tight one word responses. If you were honest, you stopped trying with him within the first few classes, as he never seemed that interested in what you had to say and the moment class ended he suddenly became some kind of record sprinter to leave the lecture theatre.

"I could tell," 

He raised his eyebrows, nodding seriously. "Smart girl,"

For a slightly too long moment he paused and you watched as he searched for his words. It was unbearably cute to see the blonde-haired boy furrowing his brow, clearly thinking as hard as his intoxicated mind would allow. 

"I'd like to go home, but I can’t drive,” He said and then suddenly looked deeply dejected, as though the weight of his words just hit him. He let out a huff and ran his hand through his hair again. “I hate parties.” 

On any other occasion, you would have left the strange drunk guy in the corridor, where he belonged - no matter how cute he was.

Yet here you were, at two am with a very smashed Leon Kennedy in the passenger seat. It was lucky that you hadn’t touched your cup of mysterious liquid at the party, because driving with a passenger who has just vomited into a plastic bag four (maybe five?) times was surprisingly difficult. He was weirdly apologetic about the whole thing, groaning and holding his head.

“I promise I’m not normally this bad.” He gagged again. “God, I’m sorry.”

You tried to sound reassuring as you spoke, but the vile smell was enough to make you gag as well. Although driving quickly would have gotten you out of the rancid car sooner, every time you turned a corner or hit a pothole - the poor boy beside you grew paler.

“It’s ok!” you said, perhaps sounding a little too reassuring, your voice rising several octaves. Although it was possible that he wasn’t used to drinking - you thought, glancing over at Leon, whose knuckles had gone white holding the plastic bag - this was more likely to be something worse. “Not much further now,”

It was lucky the road was empty - as it neared twelve fifty - because you braked much more suddenly than you meant to, lurching both of you forwards slightly. Leon swore and threw a hand over his mouth. You swallowed, trying your best to ignore the retching coming from the seat beside you.

“Wow,” Leon said, his voice raspy. “This is a great way to impress girls.”

That made you laugh. Though you felt a little mean thinking it, you really got the idea that this guy didn’t get around as much as you first thought. He was attractive, sure, in a sort of pretty way - but he gave this overwhelming feeling of lameness; he was constantly sheepish. 

Exactly my type. 

“Oh, yeah - I bet all the ladies love this.” you grinned. “Remind me to arrange our second date once I’ve gotten the smell of sick out of my car.”

He actually laughed, sounding considerably more sober than when he got in. Although you wouldn’t want to admit it, the sound made your heart skip a beat. 

“Wait, so in this hypothetical scenario - I convinced you to come on a date with me?” he said. You could feel him looking at you. “Hypothetical me must be a real charmer.”

Okay, so he definitely was not as sober as you had thought. Heat rushed into your face as you desperately tried to remind yourself that he was drunk. He probably just flirts with everyone when he’s drunk. 

He continued. "Y'know, when I see you in class, I'm normally too scared to even talk to you."

You risked a glance over at him, finding him now staring out of the window into the dark. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, you're like," He paused. "Way out of my league"

Leon was clearly not sober, but spoke with such openness that it was difficult to not take what he said seriously. You focused on the road ahead of you, stopping at a red light - even though the junction was empty. The quiet in the car was by no means uncomfortable, perhaps the knowledge that he wasn’t going to remember this took most of the pressure away. His presence was so unobtrusive - calming, even - that it felt as though you had been friends for years. Although he may not have noticed it, you felt a distinct shift in the air between you. He'd started something; laid the groundwork for something to be built between the two of you. He’d given you a glimpse of who the two of you could be. And once he was sober again, in your next 09.00 AM lecture - he would feel the shift too.

Within a few minutes you pulled up outside his flat - this time doing your best to roll to a stop gradually. He thanked you, a little awkwardly, and apologised for the vomit smell. You smiled and insisted it was no problem. And that was it; he waited outside the door, speaking into the intercom and then disappeared into the flat a moment later.

It was a strange memory. Somehow, with only a few words, he had caught your attention. The whole way home you had thought about him; waiting anxiously for your next lecture. 

Leon adjusted his grip on your leg, which left you hissing in pain - grabbing onto his upper arm. Each breath of icy air stung at your lungs, leaving your head spinning even more violently. 

“Yeah, I remember.” You said. “What about it?”

Leon tipped his head in place of a shrug - avoiding putting you in any more pain - and grinned. “I have absolutely no clue what happened that night.”

That was new. You felt sure you’d heard him talk about it before: to friends - or even family, occasionally - when they asked how you met. As you considered it, he did tend to stay quiet, letting you tell the story - only chipping in with the odd comment. After all, he was practically off his head that night.

Letting out a breathy laugh, you half-grinned; half-grimaced. “I never knew that.” You tilted your head to look up at him, continuing with eager curiosity. “So - wait - did you just think that I just randomly started to talk to you, after like a year of us mutually sitting in silence?”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

Mildly bemused, you snorted. “Oh my God, Leon - if you told me that back then I would have just about died.” 

It was true. Even though, as you got older, your self confidence seemed to grow - back then you were no more than a gangly twenty year-old, who would have crumpled at the first sign of rejection. Embarrassed may as well have been your middle name, since you spent so much time convinced that everyone else thought you were an idiot.

“Hey, I wasn’t complaining,” He said. “When the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen starts chatting to you like you’ve been friends forever - you don’t question it!”

Even after nearly a decade - he still made you blush. 

“Prettiest?”

“Mhm.”

As you struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like either a disgustingly soppy romantic or socially inept teenage girl, your attention came back to your surroundings. With Leon there and the shock subsiding, you felt substantially warmer; your pulse was no longer thundering in your ears and while the pain was still by no means bearable, Leon had successfully kept your mind off of it. 

“D’you know how long until someone will get here?” You asked after a moment.

“Not long now, " he said, glancing off into the sky, perhaps waiting to hear the hum of a helicopter in the thick cloud. “It’ll be fine, Y/N.”

And after another seven minutes, you would see that he was right; it would be fine. You’d be operated on by one of the best doctors that the government could muster up and - without too much more hassle, you lived to see another day.

AN: how do you finish fics?????? I just run out of plot and end it like a terrible sitcom?????

[poisonedprose]

hip holding > waist holding two gentle hands placed on your hips, fingertips digging ever so slightly into the fat that they could squish for hours if you'd let them. your hips are their favorite part of your body, littering them with bruises and love bites at any given moment. on their knees, looking up at you, two hands firmly griping each hip, placing a soft kiss to the bone with a smile.

leon kennedy, john price, ellie williams, arisu ryohei, jill valentine, carlos oliveira, kyle garrick, könig

waist holding > hip holding their hands fit perfectly in the curve of your waist, almost like your waist was made for them to grab and use to their advantage. they pull you close by your waist, fingers showing no signs of letting go any time soon. using their strength to manhandle you in any way they possibly could, squeezing your waist to show you who's boss with a look that's sure to kill.

joel miller, simon riley, ada wong, niragi suguru, chishiya shuntaro, john mctavish, albert wesker, last boss

[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.

[bimboothefool]

Cat Leon art dump