lilah ⚘

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆₍^. .^₎⟆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[lilacgrayskies]

༄.°there is no curse more twisted than love

lilah | she/her | 18+ | multifandom | college student 

☁ my favs: satoru gojo! leon kennedy! cloud strife! sae itoshi! zayne li! caleb xia!

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[und34dd0ll]

Works i recommend - Leon - Resident Evil

All of these writers/creators are absolutely amazing and i highly recommend following them and showing them some appreciation for their work. I will more than likely update this post every once in a while with more fics I love.

@tothelions - White Noise (so domestic i absolutely love this one)

@/tothelions - under neon lights (I love this one so much!!!! It captures vendetta Leon perfectly)

@/tothelions - you still have all of me (another really sweet one, everything they write is absolutely beautiful)

@julymist - quality control (I love it when my porn also gives me lore)

@/julymist - positive reinforcement (Puppy boy Leon<3)

@/julymist - YGBO. (I’ve only read the first part so far but trust I will be reading ALL of it)

@/julymist - I’ll give you a holy body (dead dove but delicious)

@girlwithadragonheart - big chested reader. (As a big titty lady this made me feel seen<3)

@/girlwithadragonheart - that damn quarter zip (reader and Leon equally thirst for each other and I love it)

@/girlwithadragonheart - bicep riding (it’s so yummy)

@/girlwithadragonheart - somno (it’s not everyone’s thing but it’s DEFINITELY mine)

@midnightsummerrain - you can see it with the lights out (genuinely such beautiful writing)

@/midnightsummerrain - just like you (I loooove re9 Leon x wife reader)

@/midnightsummerrain - just a touch of your love (touched starved Leon you have my heart)

@leonsleatherjacket - Salt and Pepper (AAHHH DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS SERIES.)

@/leonsleatherjacket - drabble for an upcoming series (I’m so excited for this omfg)

@lilacgrayskies - insatiable rookie!leon (so so yummy)

@lilacgrayskies - calling re2 leon a pretty boy (HES SO FUCKING CUTEEEE)

@fi1iat3rra3 - older neighbor Leon (I have no words to describe how much I love this fic.)

@multi-fandom-imagine - Rich Leon (I love a wealthy man)

@seribun - calling Leon ‘Scott’ (this and the the follow up are sooooo good)

@lolalov3s - Leon makes you squirt (omfg literally creamed the first time I read this.)

@a-dsoagent - pretty please (normally I’m not one for rough sex but this is delicious.)

@ginsvault - He kept bringing me coffee (re2 Leon does not get enough love and they genuinely wrote him so well its beautiful)

@latenightcig - need to breed (dead dove, religious themes but so so yummy)

@alloftheimagines - stick to me like caramel (always been a fan of sex pollen fics but this definitely solidifies it.)

@chanif-art - resident evil master list (Not fics but I love these comic styles art ‘fics’ (for lack of a better term) and I looove how they draw older Leon)

[lilacgrayskies]

Hi lovie!! I tried to tag you in a list of fics i recommend because i absolutely love your work but for some reason it wouldn’t let me tag you :( i just wanted to let you know and give you credit because you’re an absolutely amazing writer<3

OMG TYSM!! I have my tags off bcuz I kept getting spammed :(( But I really appreciate it! I'm glad you're enjoying my fics :DD

[lilacgrayskies]

I need more reno x reader fics...

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) rafayel’s sketches of you

the studio is always quiet in the evenings. aside from the sound of waves hitting the shore and the occasional seagull call, it was completely quiet.

you hadn’t expected to be back so soon. the mission was supposed to stretch out for another three days, but the lack of wanderers had driven you back home ahead of schedule. you dropped your gear by the door as you wandered into rafayel’s home, looking for any trace of him.

he wasn’t home. but there was an open leather-bound sketchbook on couch.

you didn’t mean to pry (lying), but a stray charcoal edge caught your eye. when you turned the page, your breath caught. it was you. 

there were dozens of them. peaceful sketches of you asleep. sharp, dynamic lines of you during training. soft moments of you laughing. rough, playful doodles of you angry. he had catalouged every single emotion, every micro-expression, studying your features as if he were afraid the universe might try to erase you from his mind. 

a familiar smell of fresh ocean water and citrus wafted behind you.

“cutie?” his voice cut through the silence.

you turned, the sketchbook still in your hands. rafayel froze, his gaze darting from your face to the pages. he crossed the room in a few fluid strides, closing the distance between you two.

“snooping through my collection, aren’t ya?” he teased, booping your nose.

your face immediately warms. even with his playful front, you can still see the slight tension in his shoulders, the quiet vulnerability of an artist who had just been exposed.

“it was just laying here, practically calling me to come look,” you counter, your voice softened, affected by the weight of what you just saw. you look back down at the sketchbook, your thumb tracing the page where he captured you smiling. “how long have you been drawing these?”

he lets out a dramatic, theatrical sigh, tilting his head as he feigned being deep in thought. “how long? probably since I first saw you,” he said casually. “it’s a medical condition at this point. my hands just move on their own.”

“so this is from the past year?” you ask.

“since I first saw you, cutie. not met you,” he smirked.

he steps closer, his chest brushing against your shoulder as he leans over to look at the book with you. he turned towards the beginning pages. “look at this one,” he murmured, his tone shifting from playful to entirely fascinated.

he stops on the sharp, ink filled page of you in your combat gear. your expression was fierce and unyielding. you recall it being the first time you and rafayel fought a wanderer together. 

“you always look so serious when you’re focused. I think that lemon guy was intimidated,” he said. “although, you make that same face when you’re trying to build legos.”

he turns to the next page. sure enough, you’re making the same face. but this time, your hands held small plastic blocks rather than a weapon. you giggled at the sight.

“is there one you haven’t drawn? you practically have everything in here,” you said, flipping through the pages.

rafayel’s gaze darkened, his hands coming up to find your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“there is one…” he said softly. “one I haven’t been able to get right.”

a shiver went down your spine as he pressed his front against your back, letting you feel the growing bulge in his pants. “what is it?” you asked, breathless.

“I haven’t been able to capture your face when you’re in pure bliss,” he murmured. “I always get…carried away.”

the implications that hung in the air caused your panties to dampen.

“maybe you just need a live model,” you offered.

that’s how you found yourself spread out on the couch, naked, while rafayel sat in front of you, sketchbook on his lap.

“you gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” you teased.

rafayel chuckled, his hand brushing against your inner thigh. “you’re my only girl,” he said softly. 

his fingers brushed between your folds, pressing gently against your clit. you sucked in a breath, face contorting in pleasure. the sound of charcoal against paper began to fill your ears.

“you’re a beautiful model, cutie,” he whispered, his finger dipping into your cunt. he thrusted in and out slowly, curving just right to brush against your spongey walls. 

you moaned, your legs spreading wider for him, hips thrusting against his hand. your eyes were glazed over and hazy, drunk with pleasure. “m-more,” you whined, reaching out to tightly hold his wrist.

he didn’t pull back. instead, he slid another finger in as his thumb rubbed your clit. Rafayel’s gaze remained locked onto your face, tracking every twitch of your lips and every flutter of your eyelids. he barely looked down as his other hand moved with masterful precision against the sketchbook, perfectly capturing the exact moment you unraveled for him.

“g-gonna..!” your voice cracked as your body spasmed. a gush of cum drenched rafayel’s hand as he stroked you through your high.

your body slumped against the cushions as he signed his sketch.

“I think I’m gonna need one more,” he said, unbuckling his belt. “you make a different face when it’s my cock.”

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) sucking off yummy smelling leon (request)

the heavy thud of the front door closing echoes through the quiet apartment, followed by a long sigh. leon is finally home. 

he doesn’t even make it past the entryway before he drops his tactical gear bag to the floor with a dull thud. he’s spent the last three days in the humid, suffocating climate of a coastal jungle mission, and it shows. 

his dark blue compression shirt was darkened with a layer of sweat and dirt. his hair was damp, clinging to his forehead and the nape of his neck. he looked absolutely wrecked, chest heaving slightly as he rests his head against the wall, eyes closing. 

 “hey,” he rasps, his voice rough from exhaustion. “don’t get too close, I smell like garbage.”

but you’re already moving toward him, like a shark drawn to blood. to anyone else, he might just look like a tired soldier needing a shower. to you, he smelled like absolute heaven.

the moment you stepped in close, the thick, heavy wave of his natural scent hits you. it was the pure, unfiltered scent of leon. sharp copper and a deep musky undertone of concentrated sweat that has soaked into his skin and clothes over days of physical exertion. it was intoxicating, making your mouth water.

before he could say anything, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. leon lets out a low chuckle, his hands awkwardly hovering above your hips. “c’mon, sweetheart, I’m dirty. let me go wash off first,” he groaned.

instead of pulling away, you slide your hands up his broad chest, feeling the damp heat radiating through his shirt. your nose drags along his jawline, catching the saltiness of his skin. 

with a soft, needy whimper, you nudge his arm upward. the compression shirt was absolutely drenched under his arms, holding the absolute potent concentration of his musk. you press your nose directly into the damp fabric of his underarms, taking a massive whiff. 

leon stiffens, a low groan catching in the back of his throat. his fingers twitch, finally digging into your waist to hold you steady. “you really are obsessed with this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.

“you smell good,” you smiled at him cheekily.

wanting to taste him just as badly, you lean up to kiss him softly, lingering on his lips just long enough to catch his ragged breathing before descending down his body. your hands work quickly, unbuckling his heavy tactical belt and pulling down his pants.

as his thick length springs free, the scent of his heat hits you instantly. you lean in close, taking a deep, worshipful inhale of his shaft, letting the heavy scent fill your nose before dragging your tongue slowly up the underside to lick the leaking tip.

“god, I could get high off you,” you moan against his skin, parting your lips and taking his swollen head into your mouth. 

leon lets out a ragged groan, his head snapping back as his fingers tangle in your hair. he leans against the wall for support, his thighs trembling slightly as he surrenders to your touch. he supposed he could let you have your way.

unable to hold back, his hips began to move on instinct, slowly thrusting into your mouth until a sudden sharp gasp left him. “g-gonna come,” he groaned.

he shudders violently, his grip tightening in your hair as he comes all over your face and mouth. breathing heavily, you look up at him through your lashes. your face is warm and painted in his release. you couldn’t help but smile as you were surrounded by his musky scent and covered in his fresh cum.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) soft sex with sukuna

“‘kuna…! you’re so deep,” you whined.

you were perched on his lap, your hands gripping his broad, tattooed shoulders for support. your chest heaved, panting and moaning in the quiet room as his thick length penetrated deep, stretching you completely. 

you had stubbornly insisted on riding him tonight, claiming that he deserved to relax after working so hard all week. but now, feeling the sheer size of him filling you to the brim, you weren’t sure how much longer you could last. 

sukuna let out a low, vibrating chuckle that rumbled against your chest. “sure you can handle it, brat?” he smirked, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

he didn’t wait for an answer as his massive calloused hands settled firmly over your hips. his fingers dug into your skin, not enough to bruise, but enough to stake a claim. slowly, he began to lift your body up and down, guiding your movements to bounce on his cock. 

the sound of wet slapping and breathless gasps filled the space between you. you whimpered, your head dropping onto his shoulder as your body melted into his heat.

“you’re too big…! c-can’t feel my legs…” you cried out.

your fingers tangled in his hair, your face buried in his neck to muffle a helpless cry. every slide against him felt too much. your pussy clenched with every thrust.

“already crying, sweet girl?” sukuna murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr against your ear. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his chest. he loved you like this, completely unraveled and at his mercy. 

he shifted beneath you, thrusting his hips particularly hard. the blunt tip of his cock brushed against the deepest parts of you, causing a sharp gasp to catch in your throat.

“ah— ‘kuna, please…!” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back.

sukuna let out a deep growl at the sensation. he didn’t stop. instead, he grinded deep into you, letting you feel every ridge and curve of his cock against your walls.

“I’ve got you,” he grunted, his lips pressing against your tear-stained cheek. “just take it.”

every slow slide pulled out a broken whine from your lips. sukuna’s arms pulled you in deeper. he didn’t want to just stretch you out, he wanted to consume you. 

your cunt clenched tighter as you grew closer. sukuna groaned, the rough vibration vibrating through your chest. his large hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he ground his hips in a slow, agonizing circle. 

the thick head of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spots, sending a violent wave of pleasure up your spine. “ah…! ‘kuna, wait, I’m gonna—” you gasped, your hips bucking against him as your walls began to squeeze around him.

sukuna let out a dark growl at the sensation of you milking him, his fingers digging into your skin to anchor you down. he gave a brutal, heavy thrust that buried him deep inside you, bottoming out as he filled you to the brim. 

“that’s it…that’s my good girl,” he mumbled.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) cloud has a praise kink

cloud loved hearing positive affirmations from those around him. growing up, he was never really noticed by anyone, always hiding in the shadows. now, he did everything in his power to be seen. to be appreciated and be considered as a person worth keeping around.

he went out of his way to prove, without a doubt, that he was the best of the best. anything just to hear a “good job, cloud!” or a “wow, you’re so cool, cloud!” 

but this? this was different.

“you feel so good, baby,” you moaned, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist, keeping him flush against you. 

cloud’s entire body froze, the rigid muscles of his back locking up. his senses were overwhelmed by how tight you were, how sweet those words sounded coming out of your mouth. he swore he could feel his dick pulse inside you, growing even harder, threatening to fill you up within the first minute.

“d-don’t say that,” he whimpered.

his large, calloused hands clamped down on your hips. a mix of holding you still and trying to keep himself together.

but any hope of restraint evaporated once you carded your fingers through his hair. your touch was gentle, your fingertips lightly brushing against his sensitive scalp. the unfamiliar soothing feeling made his spine shiver. 

the stiff spikes of his hair came loose in your hands. they softened and fell in heavy tufts around his face, framing his flushed cheeks.

“but you’re so deep~,” you nuzzled affectionately against his jawline, deliberately bucking your hips up into his. “I love it…I love how you make me feel.”

your words were like sweet honey. he let out a pathetic, desperate whine right into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. then, his entire body went rigid, his muscles tensing as his orgasm caught him off guard. he bucked into you once, twice, thrusting in deep as he filled you up.

“did you just come?” you asked, incredulous.

slowly, trembling from exhaustion, cloud lifted his head to look down at you. his cheeks were a soft pink and his mako-blue eyes were hooded with pleasure. his breathing was heavy, as if he just completed a lap around the slums.

“I can go again,” he insisted. “just…give me a sec…”

“aww, did you come because of me?” you giggled, making him blush. you cupped his face, looking into his dazed eyes. “my good boy~”

cloud’s head bowed like an obedient dog, his eyes falling closed as a shudder ran through him. you can feel his cock hardening instantly inside you. his hands gripped your hips with a renewed strength as he began thrusting again. each thrust was heavy and urgent, drawing a sharp moan from your lips.

“say it again,” he mumbled against your skin.

“nnghh…! c-cloud!” you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders. your cunt clenched around him mercilessly as his lips latched onto your neck.

“say it,” he whined, almost begging as his thrusts grew desperate. he needed to hear it.

“y-you’re…my good boy,” you breathed out.

cloud melted into you as he lost himself in the sensation of filling you up again. the heat of his first load was already dripping out, frothing at the gase of his cock. you came seconds later, a high-pitched squeal escaping your lips as you clamped around him.

as you caught your breath, cloud peppered your face with kisses.

“again?” he murmured.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

code veronica AND ff7 revelation next year? oh i'm booked and busy

[baobei-bu]

hoodie

[familyvideostevie]

no matter how it ends

leon s kennedy x reader | 8.4k

a mission goes awry when you're infected with a fever virus...and there's only one way to cure you.

warnings: smut, fem!reader, sometime after re4!leon, sex pollen (kind of), possible dubious consent 'cause it's fuck or die but really everyone here wants to be there and consents heartily, feelings realization, confessions, desperate sex turned tender sex, dry humping, fingering, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), leon kennedy one liners, canon-typical violence, a few sneaky references to other re games/movies, fake science i made up

a/n: picture your favorite leon for this. it was just sex pollen but became lots of plot with sex pollen and mush in the second half. what can i say, i'm a lover at heart. just like leon!

--

It starts with bad intel.

The facility is supposed to be abandoned. No bio signatures on the initial recon scan, no movement from hostiles after an extended stakeout, nothing. An abandoned underground lab for an experimental arm of Umbrella, potentially full of important documents on bioweapons research.

Your mission is to gather as much information as possible, should any of the viruses created there pop up on the black market or worse.

Easy, compared to the shit you're usually assigned.

Leon agrees.

Well, you think he agrees. He treats every mission as seriously as the last. You've grown to appreciate his consistency. It makes him easy to trust, which is essential in this line of work.

He's the best partner you've ever had. Thorough, direct, and smart. He never questions your abilities and relies on you just as much as you rely on him.

And, god. He's kind. Funny, too, when he wants to be. One time on a weeklong stakeout in the middle of nowhere, Argentina, he explained to you, in detail, the plot of The Count of Monte Cristo, all because you said you'd never read it. You hadn't even known he liked to read.

He's hard to crack, though. Professional to a fault, more dedicated to the cause than anyone you've ever met. And he's handsome.

How could you not fall in love with him?

You keep your ever-growing feelings to yourself. Asking him if he feels the same isn't worth ruining your partnership, isn't worth being someone else who wants something from him that he maybe can't give. Not when you can have him this way -- at your side with your life in his hands, his in yours.

In some ways, this is more intimate than any regular relationship you've ever had.

You'd spent the chopper ride here watching him as he looked out the window, even though you knew he felt your gaze. He's always doing that, always taking in everything around him with militant attention. You wonder what he sees that most people don't. Connections, patterns, maybe even beauty. You've never asked. Whatever it is has kept him alive this long. It's kept you alive, too.

And so, the mission.

You drop from a very long hatch into dark, stale air. The ladder leaves your hands aching and your shoulders tight, but there's no time for recovery.

Training takes over. Leon leads, with you at his right flank. Flashlights on, service weapon at the ready.

"Stay sharp," he says.

Sometimes you tease him about it, his constant readiness for a threat. But you feel it this time. Something's not right here, scans be damned.

Flecks of dust and grime float through your bright beams. The corridor ends maybe 15 meters in front of you in a set of metal doors, no windows. The security pad on the left side blinks a dull red.

"Emergency power," you say.

It was in the brief as a possibility but not a guarantee. Leon approaches, and you follow, digging into one of your belt pockets for the access card some other agent had to steal last week for this purpose.

"You want to do the honors?" you ask.

Leon shakes his head. "Be my guest."

The red light blinks green with a hover of your hand, and the unlocking mechanisms creak to life. The doors open slowly with a hiss. You're greeted with a dark lobby, dull yellowish lights lining the base of the walls.

"Must be on throughout," Leon says. Sometimes these places are zoned, or some other needlessly complicated system of power distribution. "Hopefully that means doors will keep opening."

He's still tense, arms outstretched to shine his light into the new space, shoulders taut. You feel it too, a prickle at the base of your neck.

"If not, I'm sure the power systems will be super easy to find with no issues," you say lightly.

He huffs, as close to a laugh as you can hope for at the start of a mission, but it's a win.

"Ready?" he asks.

You dip your chin. He glides into the room, clearing one side as you clear the other. There aren't any signs of disturbance, but that's how it goes with these places. The closer you get to the exit, the more normal it seems -- because all of the horrible things happen behind closed doors.

And no one makes it out.

"Clear," Leon calls. You echo it.

There are two single doors that reveal a bathroom hallway and the security office, as well as a set of double doors that resemble the locked entrance, another keypad glowing red at one side. Leon finds a map of the facility in the office and spreads it on the desk.

"That locked door will take us to an elevator that goes down to the labs," he says, tracing the path with a finger under the beam of his flashlight. "Three of them, all on different levels, connected by staircases instead of the elevator shaft, only accessible by keycard and on the other side of an anti-contamination corridor."

"Isolated," you observe. "In case of an outbreak?"

"It's bare bones compared to the other Umbrella stuff we've seen. This must be really out-there shit. Less resources, less of a footprint, less of an issue when it goes wrong."

You try to commit the map to memory. Leon will undoubtedly fold it into one of his pockets, but it's hard to consult a piece of paper when you're running from a B.O.W..

Level B1: MENIS, Level B2: KAMATOS, Level B3: PYRETOS

"Greek," Leon mutters. "More creative than T-virus, that's for sure."

This is just like him, surprising you after countless missions as your partner.

"Do you speak Greek, Leon?"

He shrugs.

"Not really." He tightens the strap on his glove, a cue that he's frustrated. You know most of his tells by now. "I don't know the last one. Fire, maybe?"

"Not really, he says," you tease. "What else are you hiding, Kennedy?"

He rolls his eyes at you, but if the lights were on, you're sure you'd see some pink in his cheeks. Battle-hardened agent he may be, Leon S. Kennedy still blushes for you.

If only...

No. You swallow the pang in your chest and roll your shoulders. "Start with B1 and go down, then loop back up?"

It wouldn't be out of the question to divide and conquer, but the slimy unease dripping down your spine prevents you from suggesting it.

He grunts his agreement, eyes still on the map, frowning.

As a pair, you work so well together because of your communication. It took practice, sure, but now you know each other across a crowded room, through the heat of a fight, in the dark. You don't let things go unsaid.

Well, most things, your traitorous heart says.

"Leon," you say. "It feels off, right? We're missing something."

Blue eyes meet yours. He sighs.

"Yeah," he says. "Guess we just have to find out what."

You can't help it -- you put your hand on his bicep and squeeze just a little, holding his gaze. His fringe hangs in his eyes. In another life, you'd push it back.

"Be careful, okay?" you ask him, faces so close you can feel his breath.

Leon got shot on your second ever mission together. It was a clean wound, through and through, except for the fact that he'd already been shot in that shoulder back in Raccoon City. The bullet fucked up the already fragile joint, so he needed surgery and was benched for six weeks (he was back at your side in four).

There was nothing you could have done. It was nobody's fault. But you felt responsible for waylaying your new partner, who was one of the most well-known agents in the whole damn place, so you went to see him in the hospital to alleviate your guilt.

"They have you with anyone while I'm out?" he asked you.

They did, actually, but hadn't told you who. Leon was troubled by it.

"Well, be careful," he said, as if he didn't trust anyone else to watch your back, even then.

"Only as careful as you," you replied, pointing at his shoulder.

That was the first time you made Leon Kennedy laugh.

Now, it's something you say to each other in the field. A mantra, a reminder, a promise.

Leon gives you a small smile.

"Only as careful as you," he replies, like he always does. We keep each other safe.

You release him and busy your hand at your belt immediately, god forbid you touch him more.

He rolls his shoulders back and checks the chamber of his sidearm.

"Into the depths, huh?"

"Into the depths."

--

Level B1: MENIS

The elevator opens to a dead contamination chamber. Nothing happens as you walk through the three zones where you'd expect to be scanned, doused, and dried. Another set of metal doors opens with a hiss when you tap the keycard. The smell of death hits your nose and makes your eyes water.

There are at least 10 bodies piled on the other side, most of them in pieces.

"Fuck," you curse, sidestepping a caved-in head.

"Looks like the party started without us," Leon says quietly.

"Great," you mutter. "God, that's nasty."

There aren't any claw marks or avid stains or other tell-tale signs of B.O.W.'s you see with this caliber of violence. One look at Leon and you know he's realized the same thing. You tilt your head down the hall. He nods, following your lead deeper into the floor.

Red emergency lights pulse along the base of the walls, illuminating the blood splattered pretty much everywhere. You pass the occasional corpse, most of them so horribly disfigured it's hard to tell if they were staff or test subjects or something else.

There are so many things you want to say, but you keep them to yourself until Leon leads you to the floor's main office. You slide in but don't relax.

"They look like they were torn apart," you say as soon as the door is closed. Leon frowns at you, since you didn't clear the room first, but it's a square office. You can see all the corners from where you're standing.

"I know," he replies. "But no sign of what did it."

You sigh. "So, are you going to tell Hunnigan the location survey was wrong, or should I?"

"I think I've run out of my 'bad news' calls for the year," he says. "That one's all yours once we get topside."

"How generous of you."

Leon smirks. "I'm a giver."

The office is small and the computers are dead. There are papers scattered around, so you divide and conquer.

You find an official logbook. Mostly in-the-weeds science stuff, but you skim until you find a change in handwriting.

LOG #57:

Development continues under new staff. Blood transmission remains the only method that carries enough sample to infect a host; airborne tests were unsuccessful. Vaccine/suppressant formulas abandoned for the time being after we were told that our subject supply would be steady. B2 wants to set one of theirs against one of ours, which seems pointless because any B1 subject will win that fight. B3 is a joke, but they're insistent that it'll work.

No vaccine...that's not good news. But what were they actually testing here? Infecting people with what?

You flip more pages until you find something that makes your blood run cold.

LOG #63:

We've finally gotten a host to survive. B2 and B3 are nowhere near this. We won't be sharing. Their subjects die within hours. B3 is practically useless, anyway. What use is controlling people if they die on you in an hour? But here, we've cracked it. I managed to figure out how to get the virus to work with the host's adrenaline production, stabilizing it into a constant state of fight or flight without short-circuiting the nervous system. If this batch survives the week, we'll ask permission to start on the suppressant. Once we have that, we'll be able to control the whole herd. The future of hostile takeover is here! Now, if only they'd let us out of this fucking dungeon more often…

Holy shit. They were making viruses to infect large populations, to control them. But using what? Changing their brain chemicals, making them reliant on suppressants? Leon told you about this kind of manipulation, how it infiltrated a military unit and even made its way to the White House a few years ago. Who knows how far they got this time?

"Leon," you call, turning with the folder in your hands. "You should look at this --"

You make eye contact and fall silent. He's got his finger over his lips and his gun at the ready. 

You toss the papers aside and take your place on the other side of the door.

That's when you hear it.

Groans, grunts, screams. Footsteps -- a lot of them.

He holds your gaze.

Clear the chokepoint, get into the lab rooms down the hall around the corner, make for the stairwell on the other side of the floor.

That's what you'd do, so you know it's what he's thinking, too. No confirmation needed.

The door bursts open. You duck, missing the arms reaching for your neck. It's dark in here, but you rely on muscle memory and gravity to sweep the zombie's legs out from under it and stomp on its head while you fire at the next one.

The attackers are -- well, they look mostly human. But their eyes are wild, blood running down their faces like tears, pink foam and spit dripping from their mouths.

Leon's movements are sharp and decisive. Headshot, parry, twist. Uppercut, knee sweep, headshot. He occupies the air around you like he's magnetized to your movements, always filling the space where you aren't, ceding room when you need it. After hours upon hours of mat practice between the two of you and hundreds of field opportunities to master it, you work together like a well-oiled machine.

It's exhilarating.

You're forced back from the door, but you keep firing, slicing, covering each other. It's essential that you get into the hall sooner rather than later to avoid being trapped in this room.

A zombie rips the arm off another in its attempt to get to you. That's new.

"What the fuck were they doing with this shit?" Leon grunts. He's splattered with blood now. No doubt you are too.

"That's what I was going to tell you before our party of two got crashed," you say between shots. 

"They wanted to control people."

"Yeah, this sure looks like control to me!"

"We have to clear it or we'll have to fight through on our way back up."

Leon grunts his agreement. "They're not biting." His aim is true, as always. He downs two, three, four infected. "They just want to rip us apart!"

"We need to go into the hall. Cover me," you say, dodging bloody fingers and sliding through the door. "Switching weapons!"

Your assault rifle is strapped to your back. You holster your pistol and reach around for it, but something catches your jacket and pulls.

The fabric tears. For a split second, you worry your flesh will be next, but then the tug disappears. Leon grunts and he breaks the neck of whatever had you.

You keep your gaze on the approaching pack, maybe 10 or 15 strong. Leon keeps taking them down while you holster your pistol and check the new cartridge.

"Gonna need to reload in a second here," he calls. "Six left. Five. Four --"

"Ready," you shout. Leon stabs a zombie in the neck and walks behind it, using it as a wall against reaching fingers until he's at your side again. He tears his knife free and slides beside you, solid, ready.

You open fire.

That's all it takes. The hallway is soon empty and bloodier than before. All you can hear is your combined panting.

Leon lowers his gun. "Nice job," he says.

You drop yours, too. "What was this floor called again? Menace?"

"Basically," he says, slamming in a new clip. "Divine wrath or anger."

"No shit." You look down at the tear in your jacket. "God damnit, this is my favorite."

Leon checks his chamber. "I'll get you a new one," he says.

You laugh. He almost smiles, like that was his goal all along.

The rest of the floor is mostly clear. A few stragglers here and there, but they're no match for the two of you. The containment chambers seem to be where the infected gathered in the months since this facility went dark -- the walls are covered in scratch marks.

"I can't believe they didn't kill each other," Leon says with mild disgust. "Not having control of yourself like that...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

You've read the report from Spain. He knows how it feels.

"Do you think they're aware?" you wonder aloud.

He looks so sad for a moment that you almost reach for him. "I hope not."

--

Level B2: KAMATOS

The stairwell is a mess. The door to B2 is barricaded, but you manage to get through after slamming your shoulders against it over and over.

This floor is quiet, but in a different way than upstairs. Years of field-trained instincts tell you there's nothing left alive on this floor. That, and it made a hell of a lot of noise getting the door open, and nothing popped out.

It's dustier down here, like things have been still for longer.

"What's this one mean?" you ask. "This virus."

"Extreme fatigue," Leon tells you.

"So if they controlled adrenaline levels on the first floor to make them angry, they're depriving people of sleep on this floor?"

He shrugs. "Maybe they found a way to keep the brain awake without killing it."

They did not.

The documents you find suggest the virus was a failure. The bodies you find confirm it. Hosts died from heart failure, self-inflicted wounds, a number of things, no matter what the scientists did to keep the mind from giving up. All by depriving them of sleep.

Being so tired that you see no other way out…

The horror of it all rises in your throat. You leave Leon with the corpses so you can press your forehead to the cool hallway wall.

This job asks a lot of you. Your time, your well-being. Your security, your personal relationships, your hobbies. It's overwhelming and can bury a person. The things you see, the things you do -- it gets to you. It’s easy to shove it down, to pretend like you're untouchable, but that's no way to live, either.

Sometimes you just have to feel it.

These poor people.

Leon's hand is light on your shoulder. Not patronizing, not rushing, just there. Warm, solid.

You take a deep breath, then stand up straight.

"Let's take a quick break before the last floor," Leon says.

"I'm fine."

You turn to face him, but he's already crouching, back against the wall.

He grins, a real smile this time. It makes him look younger. "Who said it was for you?"

It's like he's giving you permission to put it all down for a second. To forget where you are, why you're there, what you're doing. Leon's guard is rarely fully down, and right now he's telling you that he's got you. Rest for a second, I'll take care of us.

He's proven to you over and over that he will.

So you smile back, shaky but genuine. "Getting old, Kennedy?"

"Something like that." He looks up at you, grin softening into something fond. "Do you remember Greece?"

You slide down the wall to his level. "Do I remember Greece? Be serious. How could I forget --"

"All those stairs," Leon finishes. "Exactly."

It was last year in the height of summer. A small, sleepy cliffside town, except for the fact that a scummy billionaire moved into the monastery and started developing B.O.W.'s in the catacombs.

The town was evacuated. You were sent in to apprehend the guy and secure whatever virus he was using. It turned into three days of running up and down stone staircases away from bats with tentacles and lizards with thousands of teeth where you wouldn't expect teeth to be.

Over the course of your partnership, you've seen each other in all states, but you've never seen Leon as exhausted as he was after that mission.

"I thought I was going to have to carry you to the rendezvous point," you remind him. "You fell down so many stairs."

Leon rubs his knees as if remembering the way they smacked stone over and over.

"And you would have," he says.

He catches your gaze and holds it. He's reminding you that you're in this together. That he trusts you, something you do not take lightly. It's hard to know who you can trust in this job, even your very own employer, but he never doubts you. You never doubt him.

The familiar ache of everything you feel for him sits warm and heavy on your chest. He's the best man you've ever known.

"I would have," you say.

Leon dips his chin, his mouth curling into a smaller smile than before, but this one is just as fond.

"We should go back," you say without meaning to.

It surprises him, but he hides it well.

"That would be nice," he muses. "I don't know the last time I took a vacation."

"We could go to the beach," you continue. It's scarily easy to imagine -- Leon in swim trunks, cheeks pink from the sun. "Stay at the bottom of the stairs and not walk up a single one."

"But you liked the monastery," he reminds you. "We'd have to go back up to see the windows."

Of course he remembers how you'd looked up in awe at the stained glass, gun in your hand and blood on your face.

"I'll climb up by myself. You can relax."

Leon sighs. "Relax," he says. "I don't even know if I know how to do that."

"You're good at everything," you say. "You'll pick it up in no time."

Whatever game this is, you're having too much fun playing it. Leon doesn't lie to you, so while he might be indulging you, there's a part of him that means all of this. He has to know that you mean it, too.

He stands and offers you his hand.

"One more floor," he says. "Then we can go to Greece."

--

Level B3: PYRETOS

The hit comes out of nowhere.

Maybe you're distracted by talk of vacation, or your guard is down after the silence of B2, but you don't see it coming. One second you're rounding the corner, the next you're flying backwards through glass, back slamming against a cabinet. You land heavily on the ground, more glass and something wet raining down on you.

Leon yells your name.

You try to catch your breath, but it's stuck in your chest. He's still calling for you in between gunshots.

"Fuck," you croak, finally finding air. You roll onto your side. Glass crunches under your weight as you try to figure out what the hell just happened.

Everything hurts, but you try to shake it off and push up to standing. Leon hauls himself through the broken window. He begins to clear the room after he sees you on your feet.

"Clear. That was one ugly son of a bitch," he says. "Must have gotten down here from upstairs."

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat.

Something isn't right.

Your skin feels tight, like you already went on vacation and got burned to a crisp. Your pulse won't slow. Deep breaths feel impossible. Strangest of all, it's almost like –

Well, your core is buzzing. You press your legs together and try not to panic.

In the early days, after Leon got shot but well before Greece, you hid an injury from him.

You took a knife to the ribs during a fight. It wasn't too deep, but it was wide and bleeding steadily. Adrenaline allowed you to get through it. You figured you could patch yourself up the next time you slowed. But Leon pushed on ahead, and you followed without saying anything.

That is, until you left a bloody handprint on a door. He stopped immediately.

"Is that yours?" he said. "Where are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," you protested. But Leon S. Kennedy does not give up easily.

"Show me," he said, pulling out bandages from his hip pouch. "When did this happen?"

"I'm not compromised," you said, even as you lifted your jacket to show him.

"I know you aren't," he said. "I want to know when you're hurt so I can make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," you said weakly. He patched you up quickly and thoroughly.

"We're partners," he told you. "We have to help each other."

Here, now, you don’t hide from him.

"Leon," you croak. "Something's wrong. I think I --"

He's at your side in an instant, so close your breath hitches. Why are you so affected by him? Why are you so warm?

"The rip in your jacket," Leon says. "Your arm is bleeding."

"Liquid," you gasp. "It felt wet when I hit the cabinet."

The pieces come together. Shattered vials at your feet, an empty cabinet behind you. The dull red emergency lights make it hard to tell what color the puddle is, but you know it can't be good.

"They wouldn't keep a virus out in the open, would they?" you ask weakly. You're shaking now, shivering even though you don't feel cold.

"Fever," he breathes. "Pyretos. It means fever."

You've rarely seen Leon afraid. He's human, so it happens, but normally he faces things head-on without complaint.

Right now, he looks terrified. That scares you more than anything.

"Leon," you whisper. "What do we do?"

He snaps into action. He hands you a roll of bandages.

"Wrap it," he says. He presses a few buttons on his watch until it beeps. Setting a timer, no doubt. Just in case. "How do you feel? Describe it to me."

"Feverish," you say. "But not dizzy. I can think clearly."

Leon starts to dig around the lab, tearing open drawers and rifling through what he finds. The office on this floor wasn't in the same place as the other two, so any information must be in here, right?

"What else?"

You follow his lead, desperately searching for anything helpful. How do you explain the fact that your entire body is pulsing with a very specific kind of need? It scares you, feeling this out of control physically while also being in your right mind.

You land on achey. The buzzing under your skin gets worse every minute you spend looking and finding fuck all.

"There's nothing here," he says, frustrated. "Shit."

You're thinking the same thing: no vaccines. Any hope for you is in this lab.

But then -- your eye catches on a cabinet sitting on deep grooves in the floor.

"There's a door," you tell him, already heading for it. A wave of need hits you so suddenly that you have to brace yourself on the wall to catch your breath. Leon brushes by you. The slight contact has you swallowing a moan.

Jesus Christ.

He shoves the cabinet aside. Behind it is a door that opens into the lab office, as dark as the others.

You follow him in and start searching the shelves. Leon drags a table into the perfect place to effectively barricade you in.

"We don't have time to be interrupted right now," he says. He starts searching the desk.

You're sweating now. If this thing is going to turn you, Leon can't be here for it. You don't want him to see it. "Maybe you should go back to the surface --"

"I'm not leaving you," he interrupts. It's sharp, final.

"But if I turn--"

Leon whirls around. "I'm not leaving you," he says again.

Your nose stings. It's not the rational choice, but it's the Leon Kennedy choice. You can't help but be grateful for it.

He returns to the papers. Everywhere your clothing touches your skin feels heavy, almost painful. Your skin is sensitive, your throat dry, breath still fast.

You're so turned on, you think you might explode. It's all you can do to just stand there and try to keep it together.

"I found something," Leon says. He says nothing else. It's hard to see his expression in the dark without being close to him. You don't know if you can handle that right now.

"Bad news, doc?"

He swallows and begins to read.

"In an effort to bend the subject to commands, a fever is introduced via the bloodstream that increases testosterone and dopamine to near-unbearable levels of arousal. We have successfully altered the balance to allow the mind to be unaffected, making the reaction purely physical. The fever, if detected and combated within 1 hour, can be reduced by repeated bursts of oxytocin until the subject's internal temperature returns to normal. Required oxytocin levels seem to vary by subject; no pattern discernible at this time."

"What the fuck does that mean?" you pant. Your skin feels too tight. You still can't take a full breath. Control is becoming a missed opportunity. "Do I have a sex fever?"

No answer.

"Leon."

He exhales sharply.

"I think you need to be touched," he says. "To release the chemical that will help you fight this on your own."

Your responding laugh edges on hysterical.

"I do have a sex fever. So, what, you're going to hug me and hope I don't die?"

"I could," he says. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just don't think it'll be enough. This says bursts, and a lot of them. The best way to trigger that kind of response is --"

It clicks in your mind.

"Orgasm," you whisper. "Oh, god."

Leon closes his eyes for a second too long.

"I don't know what to do," he admits. He looks at his watch. "It's been 10 minutes. I don't know what--"

"I'm so sorry," you breathe. The gravity of your situation is like a bucket of cold water. If only it actually made you feel cold. You have to fuck your partner or die. What kind of sick joke is this? "Leon, I'm so sorry. You don't have to do anything, this is my fault --"

He tosses the file onto the table.

"I'm not going to let you die," he says with all his usual conviction. He really believes it, and it makes it easier for you to believe it, too. "Not when there's something I can do about it."

"But not like this," you croak. "This is --"

"I know."

God, you wish the lights were on. You want to see every detail of his face to discern what he's feeling. Can you ask him to do this? Will it ruin everything forever?

A tremor wracks through you. You have to brace yourself on the desk.

He yanks open drawers until he finds a thermometer. It beeps alive, somehow, and he holds it up to your forehead.

"Shit," he mutters.

"What?"

Leon flips the device to show you the screen. 103.2.

"Shit," you echo.

Your brain is going to cook in your skull sooner rather than later. You swallow frustrated tears along with your pride.

"I'm so wet," you whisper. It's the lewdest thing you've ever said to him. "I can feel it."

Leon inhales sharply, standing ever-so-still just next to you, just out of reach.

The pain radiates through you, molten lava in your veins. It's strange to be able to think so clearly. You want Leon as badly as you always do. That's bearable. But the pain. The heat. It's something else, something all-consuming.

You need him to touch you.

"Please don't make me beg," you whimper, turning towards him.

"Jesus," he mutters, filling the space you make for him. His hands find your face. You groan. The contact is like a balm, even through his gloves.

"Oh god."

You nuzzle into his palms. It's like you can feel the battle in your blood, the virus doing its best to cook you from the inside out, but Leon's touch is giving you a foothold, a reprieve.

If it wasn't so awful, you'd laugh at the idea that you're so horny you might die.

"Whatever you need, I'll do," he says. His voice is already hoarse. "But just -- you have to tell me if it's not okay. And I'll stop. We'll figure something else out."

You lean back on the desk and grab his elbows. You've touched plenty, but never like this. Never loaded with all of the unspoken things between you, never with such desperation.

"It's okay," you tell him. "Whatever it takes, it's okay. I trust you."

His thigh slides between your legs.

"Can you forgive me? If I do this?" he whispers, lips so close to yours. You lean forward on instinct, pulled to him by more than just the fire in your core.

"There's nothing to forgive," you say, and then you're kissing.

What you need is an orgasm, but this is something you've wondered about for a long time. Something you've wanted. It almost feels selfish to take it now.

But, fuck, it's good.

He's not shy. You trace the seam of his lips with your tongue. He opens for you immediately, licking into your mouth as he pulls you forward and onto his thigh.

His kisses are desperate, exposing his worry, but also tender, exposing his care. You're in good hands, hands you love.

Even through your pants, the pressure of your cunt on his thigh is enough to steal your breath.

"God," you gasp.

"Not quite," Leon says, kissing a path from your mouth down your neck. "Does that help?"

You grind down on him in reply. His palms have made their way to your hips, aiding you in your quest for pressure on your core.

It's too much. It's not enough. But still, the coil tightens. "Sorry, I just need --"

You chase it, grinding down on his thigh even harder, panting into his neck. You're close, you can feel it. You're chasing it, that snap, that reward. Leon just lets you take and take and take.

You thread your fingers through his hair, panting into his neck. When you tug just a little, he bounces his leg and you keen.

"More, please."

It only takes three more bounces before you're coming, shudders ripping through you, his name on your lips.

When you return to your body, Leon is dragging his palm up and down your back.

"Did you just--"

You're becoming very familiar with the fabric of his shoulder, his leather harness pressing into your cheek.

"Mhm," you manage.

There's a world where you're embarrassed. In that world, you asked Leon out for dinner and then up to your place after. In that world, you made out on the couch and ground down on his thigh until you came. In that world, he laughed with you, utterly charmed, and it was the beginning of something wonderful.

In this one, he gently tilts you back so he can check your temperature with the thermometer.

"Holy shit," he breathes. "102.1. It worked."

You don't feel that different, but the number doesn't lie.

Leon is panting, too. "More?"

You nod. Your cunt aches like you didn't have an orgasm at all.

He tugs off a glove with his teeth, dropping it god knows where.

"Don't know how clean my hands are," he says.

A laugh bursts out of you, but it sounds close to a sob.

Two fingers go in his mouth faster than you can open yours. He doesn't waste too much time wetting them, given how turned on you already are, but he gives them a good suck. A trail of spit hangs from his lip when he finishes.

You work at the buttons of your pants, unbuckling your tactical belt. It clangs onto the desk behind you. Leon slides his hand down under the waistband of your panties. You collapse into him with a guttural moan.

"Leon," you gasp. He holds you up, no problem, even as you go utterly boneless at just his fingers in your folds.

"You weren't kidding," he says, breathy. "You are wet."

"I'm sorry," you pant into his shoulder.

"Please don't say sorry again," he groans. "I can't take it."

"Can I say thank you?"

"That's worse," he says, sliding two fingers into you at the same time. "I just wish it wasn't like this, is all."

The absurdity of the whole thing makes it hard to keep your emotional walls high. What's the point? You're having sex with your partner to save your life in an underground Umbrella laboratory. You're way past keeping your emotions from him.

So you hear his words for what they are. For what he's not saying.

"Oh, yeah?" He curls his fingers and you groan, arching into him. "You have something you want to tell me, Kennedy?"

"Little late for that."

He presses his lips to your jaw, but you pull back so you can see his eyes. He's flushed, his pupils taking over almost all of the blue you love so dearly.

"I always want to know how you feel," you tell him. It's honest, raw, perhaps out of place when he's knuckle deep in your cunt.

"Fuck," he breathes, like eye contact is enough to undo him.

"I just want to help you," he says. "I always want to help you when you need it." He picks up the pace with his fingers. "I like being the guy who has your back."

His thumb circles your clit. It’s all you can do to hang onto his shoulders and ride it out as he keeps talking.

"I want to give you everything you've ever wanted," he says. "I miss you when you leave the room. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met."

"Oh, Leon," you gasp, grinding down onto his hand. "Me too. Me too."

He scrapes his teeth along your neck. "Yeah?"

"Yes, yes, yes --"

The orgasm washes over you. You clench around him over and over. He carefully pulls his hand from your panties and licks his fingers. Good god.

Something has shifted between you. It's still about the mission, about breaking your fever, but now it's more. It's more, because you both want it.

Leon leans in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, tasting yourself on his lips.

Beep.

"101.3," he says.

You push his hair back from his forehead. "Is that low enough?"

This time, you do feel a bit different. Maybe it's the confirmation that Leon has feelings for you, but your muscles feel more relaxed, your skin less taut. The need still burns, though.

"There's no way to say this without sounding like a creep," he says wryly. "But I think you should have a few more."

You drag your hands up and down his torso, but your gaze lands on his makeshift barricade.

"Do we think we have time?"

Even as you ask, you're toeing off your boots and shoving your pants down. Leon is quick to help you.

"If anything comes through that door," he says, fingers hooked in your underwear, "I can kill it with my eyes closed."

He hooks his hand under your thighs and helps you up onto the desk fully, sweeping everything onto the ground.

"So could you," he adds. You hum in agreement. Your hand returns to his torso, trailing it down to the front of his pants.

He's hard.

It's not entirely a surprise, but you're pleased.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's kind of fucked up --" he tries. You don't let it get very far.

"Don't you apologize," you say. "You're allowed to want, Leon. I promise you, whatever you want, you can have. You already do."

His answer to that is a kiss, not searing and heated like before, but soft and slow. Like he's memorizing you, learning every inch of your mouth just because he can.

A wave of heat rolls through you, so intense and unexpected that you have to close your eyes and grit your teeth against the pain.

Leon rubs your back and tells you to breathe, it's okay, you're going to be okay.

The heat dulls. "How long has it been?" you ask through gritted teeth, eyes still shut.

"26 minutes."

His thumbs stroke your cheeks, helping you come back to yourself.

"Are you okay to keep going?" he asks. "I'll do whatever you want."

You reach for his belt with shaking hands. Not because you don't want him, or because you're scared, but because you need him. You need him to survive. This was just as true before you got infected as it is now. And you have him.

He has you.

Leon lets you unbuckle his pants as he undoes his harness and his tactical pouches. They both fall to the ground.

You take him in hand and he hisses. His cock is warm, another layer of heat against your already burning skin. His hips jerk when you stroke him root to tip.

His fingers circle your wrist to stop you.

"Another time," he says. He kisses your chin. "Okay?"

There will be another time. Leon doesn't say things he doesn't mean, so you take it to heart. This will happen again.

It's not exactly romantic, the way you lean back on some long-dead bioterrorist's desk naked from the waist down, Leon's pants shoved down his thighs and his cock in his hand. But it's what you've got, and it's what you'll take.

You spread your legs for him. He sucks in air like a man just saved from drowning.

"Ready?" he asks. You feel his tip at your entrance and can't swallow the moan that rips from your throat in the shape of his name. He wastes no more time sinking into you in one stroke.

You come immediately, legs wrapped around his hips. You might scream, it's hard to tell. But you're so full and it finally feels right. Like you've been missing something all along and finally found it.

Leon says your name over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer.

"I wish I could see you properly," he says, voice breaking. "I wish –

His hips jerk forward even though he's bottomed out. He leans forward until he's bracing his forearms on either side of your head, brushing your nose with his. He's right. It's hard to see him fully in the red-washed office.

"You know what I look like," you tell him.

"Not like this," he shakes his head. "Not like this."

"You're doing so good," you say, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Leon, it feels so good --"

It's a strange sensation to feel your blood cooling while he's inside you, to regain control of your body just as you surrender your heart.

Leon starts to move his hips, a slow drag at first, but it quickly becomes a snap. You dig your fingers into his biceps and hold on. You can hear how wet you are as he fucks you.

The coil in your core tightens again. "Leon," you moan. "I'm gonna--"

He kisses you, hips slowing to a grind. He reaches between you with one hand to find your clit and give it some messy circles.

"Go ahead," he says against your mouth. "I can take it."

Your cunt clenches around him. Tears prick in your eyes not from overstimulation but from everything else -- the heat in your veins, the tenderness of his hold, the way he's kissing you as you fall apart, swallowing your gasps.

"So beautiful," he says. And god, it sounds like he means it. Half-dressed, sweaty and bandaged, he means it.

Leon goes back to shallow thrusts, but they're becoming more erratic.

"How many is that?"

"Four," Leon says.

"Are you..."

He nods. "I'm close."

His forehead is damp from the effort. You wipe it with the heel of your hand.

"It's okay," you tell him. "It's okay, Leon. You can --"

You tighten your legs around him to hold him inside.

His breath hitches, but he picks up the pace without argument.

The smack of your flesh fills the room. The only thing on your mind is Leon Leon Leon.

The noise he makes just before he comes inside you is a punched-out whine of your name. He stills above you entirely, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

"So beautiful," you echo. "So beautiful, Leon."

He keeps his weight off you but presses his face into your neck as he catches his breath.

"Fuck," he says. "How do you feel?"

You need to check your temperature, but remarkably better. The heat in your veins is an expected one. You can feel sweat cooling on your skin. The incessant need in your cunt has dulled to a satiated ache.

"Still alive." You kiss him chastely, considering he's still inside you.

"Let me check -- where the hell did that thing go?"

He pulls out. You both hiss just a bit, but he finds the thermometer on the ground.

Beep.

"98.3," Leon says. "That's normal."

You feel boneless and make no move to get up from the desk. If you did, you'd surely make a mess.

"Finally, something normal about today."

Leon tucks his cock back into his briefs, buttons his pants. He drags his hands up and down your thighs.

"Can I clean you up?" he asks.

Even though you now know how he feels, know that he wants you just as much as you want him, he's done so much for you today. Your temperature is back to normal. You still need to make it back to the surface.

"You don't need to," you say. "Just...give me a clean bandage, or something --"

"Let me do this for you," he interrupts. Begs, really, already getting on his knees between your legs. "One more. Just to be safe."

The heat that builds is nothing like the wild, uncontrollable fire of before. This is all you, all Leon. 

The fact that he wants his mouth on you, wants to lick his own come from your cunt.

"Okay," you breathe. You thread your fingers through his hair. He preens.

He kisses the inside of your thigh and pushes your legs wider.

Maybe you should feel exposed, but you don't. You feel wanted. You feel safe.

Leon pulls your folds open with his thumbs. He starts with long licks with the flat of his tongue along your seam, flicking your clit when he reaches the top. But your entrance quickly becomes his focus, and suddenly he's a man possessed.

He laps up his own release as it drips from you, humming when you tug on his hair. He hardly comes up for air, but you know he's paying attention to your reactions based on the way he moves his mouth. He sucks on your clit. Your hips buck, so he does it again.

"Leon," you gasp. How is it possible that you're going to come again? But you feel it, the rising tide in your core. All it takes is a glance down to find him watching you, soaking in whatever he can see in the dim light.

He keeps his mouth on you through your final orgasm. This time, a few tears leak from your eyes. Your breath evens out and your heartbeat actually slows the way you expect it to. The fever is broken, you're certain of it.

"Just to be safe," you say to the ceiling. "You just wanted to show me how good you were at that."

Leon wipes his face with the back of his hand.

"I like to be thorough," he replies. He stands, drags your underwear and pants up with him. 

"Are you okay? How are the symptoms?"

"I think so." You scoot forward on the table so he can pull your clothes over your hips. "It doesn't feel like a fever anymore."

"What does it feel like?"

Your legs are a little shaky, but you stand and wrap your arms around him. You've just had sex to save your life, but you don't know if you've ever hugged Leon before.

"It feels like you," you tell him, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

Leon stills, but you can hear his heartbeat pick up. He envelops you in his embrace, lips pressed against your temple, his inhale shaky.

"I'm glad," he whispers. "I'm so fucking glad."

He's hidden his fear from you so well this whole time, but you saw the look on his face when he realized you were infected. You hug him tighter, willing the fear to leave him. You're okay. You're here, in his arms. He saved you.

"What now?" you ask. You turn in his arms. He releases you so you can reach for your tactical belt.

"We get out of here in one piece," he says. "We get you to medical."

"Fucking medical," you mutter. You shove your foot back in your discarded boot.

"I won't leave you there," Leon says. They could keep you for days, but you know he means it. "Then I'll take you home. And we'll sleep for days."

You almost forget that you don't have to keep your feelings from him. You let the joy take over your face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, a little sheepish. "If you want to."

"I want to," you assure him. "I want to."

You'll have to talk about this, surely. The way it changes your partnership, how to navigate field work. There is so much to learn about him. What he's like on a quiet morning at home instead of a stakeout. The noises you can pull from him in a real bedroom. His face when you tell him you love him.

The future is bright.

Leon buckles his harness. He laughs to himself, tearing you from your thoughts.

"What?"

He straightens your belt and grins crookedly, boyish and lovely.

"Are you writing this into the mission report, or am I?"

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) rafayel’s sketches of you

the studio is always quiet in the evenings. aside from the sound of waves hitting the shore and the occasional seagull call, it was completely quiet.

you hadn’t expected to be back so soon. the mission was supposed to stretch out for another three days, but the lack of wanderers had driven you back home ahead of schedule. you dropped your gear by the door as you wandered into rafayel’s home, looking for any trace of him.

he wasn’t home. but there was an open leather-bound sketchbook on couch.

you didn’t mean to pry (lying), but a stray charcoal edge caught your eye. when you turned the page, your breath caught. it was you. 

there were dozens of them. peaceful sketches of you asleep. sharp, dynamic lines of you during training. soft moments of you laughing. rough, playful doodles of you angry. he had catalouged every single emotion, every micro-expression, studying your features as if he were afraid the universe might try to erase you from his mind. 

a familiar smell of fresh ocean water and citrus wafted behind you.

“cutie?” his voice cut through the silence.

you turned, the sketchbook still in your hands. rafayel froze, his gaze darting from your face to the pages. he crossed the room in a few fluid strides, closing the distance between you two.

“snooping through my collection, aren’t ya?” he teased, booping your nose.

your face immediately warms. even with his playful front, you can still see the slight tension in his shoulders, the quiet vulnerability of an artist who had just been exposed.

“it was just laying here, practically calling me to come look,” you counter, your voice softened, affected by the weight of what you just saw. you look back down at the sketchbook, your thumb tracing the page where he captured you smiling. “how long have you been drawing these?”

he lets out a dramatic, theatrical sigh, tilting his head as he feigned being deep in thought. “how long? probably since I first saw you,” he said casually. “it’s a medical condition at this point. my hands just move on their own.”

“so this is from the past year?” you ask.

“since I first saw you, cutie. not met you,” he smirked.

he steps closer, his chest brushing against your shoulder as he leans over to look at the book with you. he turned towards the beginning pages. “look at this one,” he murmured, his tone shifting from playful to entirely fascinated.

he stops on the sharp, ink filled page of you in your combat gear. your expression was fierce and unyielding. you recall it being the first time you and rafayel fought a wanderer together. 

“you always look so serious when you’re focused. I think that lemon guy was intimidated,” he said. “although, you make that same face when you’re trying to build legos.”

he turns to the next page. sure enough, you’re making the same face. but this time, your hands held small plastic blocks rather than a weapon. you giggled at the sight.

“is there one you haven’t drawn? you practically have everything in here,” you said, flipping through the pages.

rafayel’s gaze darkened, his hands coming up to find your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“there is one…” he said softly. “one I haven’t been able to get right.”

a shiver went down your spine as he pressed his front against your back, letting you feel the growing bulge in his pants. “what is it?” you asked, breathless.

“I haven’t been able to capture your face when you’re in pure bliss,” he murmured. “I always get…carried away.”

the implications that hung in the air caused your panties to dampen.

“maybe you just need a live model,” you offered.

that’s how you found yourself spread out on the couch, naked, while rafayel sat in front of you, sketchbook on his lap.

“you gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” you teased.

rafayel chuckled, his hand brushing against your inner thigh. “you’re my only girl,” he said softly. 

his fingers brushed between your folds, pressing gently against your clit. you sucked in a breath, face contorting in pleasure. the sound of charcoal against paper began to fill your ears.

“you’re a beautiful model, cutie,” he whispered, his finger dipping into your cunt. he thrusted in and out slowly, curving just right to brush against your spongey walls. 

you moaned, your legs spreading wider for him, hips thrusting against his hand. your eyes were glazed over and hazy, drunk with pleasure. “m-more,” you whined, reaching out to tightly hold his wrist.

he didn’t pull back. instead, he slid another finger in as his thumb rubbed your clit. Rafayel’s gaze remained locked onto your face, tracking every twitch of your lips and every flutter of your eyelids. he barely looked down as his other hand moved with masterful precision against the sketchbook, perfectly capturing the exact moment you unraveled for him.

“g-gonna..!” your voice cracked as your body spasmed. a gush of cum drenched rafayel’s hand as he stroked you through your high.

your body slumped against the cushions as he signed his sketch.

“I think I’m gonna need one more,” he said, unbuckling his belt. “you make a different face when it’s my cock.”

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) rookie!leon is insatiable

“leonnn, I c-can’t-,”you sobbed, tears streaking your face. 

your head rolled back into the pillows as leon thrusted deeper. he had you on your back, his arms holding your legs apart. his cock was buried to the hilt inside your puffy pussy. 

he hasn’t stopped thrusting. not after your pussy clenched around him like a vice the first, or third time. not after your nails clawed into his back, guaranteed to leave marks. not even after you started crying.

“no no no no, baby, please,” he whimpered, burying his face in your neck. “I wanna cum- baby, please, I’m so so so close!”

poor thing. your pussy was spasming violently around him, desperate to milk his cock. it wasn’t until a gush of squirt splattered against his lower abdomen that he slowed down.

leon whined, high and needy, watching as you made a mess on his cock. he leaned up, his eyes hooded as he looked down to where your pussy was stretched around his cock. your clit was twitching. “you made a mess,” his voice cracked. 

as if his cock wasn’t enough, his thumb reached down to rub your clit. small circles pressed against the swollen pearl. “messy girl…” he murmured. “I’m doing good, huh?”

his hips moved slower, but god, he was going deeper. his cheeks were flushed a soft pink as he fucked into you. “you like it, baby? you gonna cum again?” he moaned.

“nghh…! yes, I like it!” you cried out. his large hand rested against your lower stomach, right over the bulge of his cock.

“fuck, you can see it right here,” he said, his thumb tracing the imprint of his cock in your womb. “look, baby, you can see me inside you.”

your cunt betrayed you, clenching and gushing all over again. a creamy ring of cum formed at the base of his cock. leon winced, your pussy feeling tighter this time. he bit his lip, his thrusts faltering.

“f-fuck…!” he whined. one final thrust before he held you against him. hot, white ropes of cum filled you up. heavy breathing filled your ear.

leon pulled away, pulling his cock out to watch his cum drip out of you. you whimpered, feeling it glide down your inner thighs. 

“think you can take one more?” he smirked at you.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

hi! unhinged request lowkey but reader who has an armpit and sweat kink and is obsessedddddddd with leon’s armpits and sweat. like he would come home from a mission or a workout or whatever and reader just eats it up, relishing in his musky scent and all over him when he’s sweaty pleaseeee. (self indulgent request lol) thank you!

hi anon! sorry for taking so long to fulfill this request. I've never been much of a scent kink but I feel like leon would smell sooooo good 🤤🤤🤤. this lowk makes me wanna write an omegaverse fic of him LMAO

leon version not specified but I had re9 in mind hehe

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) sucking off yummy smelling leon (request)

the heavy thud of the front door closing echoes through the quiet apartment, followed by a long sigh. leon is finally home. 

he doesn’t even make it past the entryway before he drops his tactical gear bag to the floor with a dull thud. he’s spent the last three days in the humid, suffocating climate of a coastal jungle mission, and it shows. 

his dark blue compression shirt was darkened with a layer of sweat and dirt. his hair was damp, clinging to his forehead and the nape of his neck. he looked absolutely wrecked, chest heaving slightly as he rests his head against the wall, eyes closing. 

 “hey,” he rasps, his voice rough from exhaustion. “don’t get too close, I smell like garbage.”

but you’re already moving toward him, like a shark drawn to blood. to anyone else, he might just look like a tired soldier needing a shower. to you, he smelled like absolute heaven.

the moment you stepped in close, the thick, heavy wave of his natural scent hits you. it was the pure, unfiltered scent of leon. sharp copper and a deep musky undertone of concentrated sweat that has soaked into his skin and clothes over days of physical exertion. it was intoxicating, making your mouth water.

before he could say anything, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. leon lets out a low chuckle, his hands awkwardly hovering above your hips. “c’mon, sweetheart, I’m dirty. let me go wash off first,” he groaned.

instead of pulling away, you slide your hands up his broad chest, feeling the damp heat radiating through his shirt. your nose drags along his jawline, catching the saltiness of his skin. 

with a soft, needy whimper, you nudge his arm upward. the compression shirt was absolutely drenched under his arms, holding the absolute potent concentration of his musk. you press your nose directly into the damp fabric of his underarms, taking a massive whiff. 

leon stiffens, a low groan catching in the back of his throat. his fingers twitch, finally digging into your waist to hold you steady. “you really are obsessed with this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.

“you smell good,” you smiled at him cheekily.

wanting to taste him just as badly, you lean up to kiss him softly, lingering on his lips just long enough to catch his ragged breathing before descending down his body. your hands work quickly, unbuckling his heavy tactical belt and pulling down his pants.

as his thick length springs free, the scent of his heat hits you instantly. you lean in close, taking a deep, worshipful inhale of his shaft, letting the heavy scent fill your nose before dragging your tongue slowly up the underside to lick the leaking tip.

“god, I could get high off you,” you moan against his skin, parting your lips and taking his swollen head into your mouth. 

leon lets out a ragged groan, his head snapping back as his fingers tangle in your hair. he leans against the wall for support, his thighs trembling slightly as he surrenders to your touch. he supposed he could let you have your way.

unable to hold back, his hips began to move on instinct, slowly thrusting into your mouth until a sudden sharp gasp left him. “g-gonna come,” he groaned.

he shudders violently, his grip tightening in your hair as he comes all over your face and mouth. breathing heavily, you look up at him through your lashes. your face is warm and painted in his release. you couldn’t help but smile as you were surrounded by his musky scent and covered in his fresh cum.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[lilacgrayskies]

☁︎⋅ (18+) soft sex with sukuna

“‘kuna…! you’re so deep,” you whined.

you were perched on his lap, your hands gripping his broad, tattooed shoulders for support. your chest heaved, panting and moaning in the quiet room as his thick length penetrated deep, stretching you completely. 

you had stubbornly insisted on riding him tonight, claiming that he deserved to relax after working so hard all week. but now, feeling the sheer size of him filling you to the brim, you weren’t sure how much longer you could last. 

sukuna let out a low, vibrating chuckle that rumbled against your chest. “sure you can handle it, brat?” he smirked, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

he didn’t wait for an answer as his massive calloused hands settled firmly over your hips. his fingers dug into your skin, not enough to bruise, but enough to stake a claim. slowly, he began to lift your body up and down, guiding your movements to bounce on his cock. 

the sound of wet slapping and breathless gasps filled the space between you. you whimpered, your head dropping onto his shoulder as your body melted into his heat.

“you’re too big…! c-can’t feel my legs…” you cried out.

your fingers tangled in his hair, your face buried in his neck to muffle a helpless cry. every slide against him felt too much. your pussy clenched with every thrust.

“already crying, sweet girl?” sukuna murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr against your ear. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his chest. he loved you like this, completely unraveled and at his mercy. 

he shifted beneath you, thrusting his hips particularly hard. the blunt tip of his cock brushed against the deepest parts of you, causing a sharp gasp to catch in your throat.

“ah— ‘kuna, please…!” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back.

sukuna let out a deep growl at the sensation. he didn’t stop. instead, he grinded deep into you, letting you feel every ridge and curve of his cock against your walls.

“I’ve got you,” he grunted, his lips pressing against your tear-stained cheek. “just take it.”

every slow slide pulled out a broken whine from your lips. sukuna’s arms pulled you in deeper. he didn’t want to just stretch you out, he wanted to consume you. 

your cunt clenched tighter as you grew closer. sukuna groaned, the rough vibration vibrating through your chest. his large hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he ground his hips in a slow, agonizing circle. 

the thick head of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spots, sending a violent wave of pleasure up your spine. “ah…! ‘kuna, wait, I’m gonna—” you gasped, your hips bucking against him as your walls began to squeeze around him.

sukuna let out a dark growl at the sensation of you milking him, his fingers digging into your skin to anchor you down. he gave a brutal, heavy thrust that buried him deep inside you, bottoming out as he filled you to the brim. 

“that’s it…that’s my good girl,” he mumbled.

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

{dividers from @/cursed-carmine}

[godsfaith]

all twisted sparring with leon turns spicy drabble !

tw. mdni. dry humping. flirting. manhandling. semi public sex. clit rubbing. almost caught.

the training room in the BSAA safehouse was a converted warehouse, all concrete floors and exposed pipes. flluorescent lights hummed overhead casting sterile white across the mat-covered center where you stood slightly breathless facing leon.

he’d been at it for forty-five minutes. started with basic stance work—feet shoulder-width apart, knees soft and weight balanced. moved into striking drills that left your forearms aching from blocking his padded hits. now he was circling you like a wolf, those blue eyes tracking every shift of weight, every nervous glance.

"again.” he said voice low, patient. "you’re telegraphing the cross. that shoulder dip tells me exactly what's coming."

you reset your guard, fists up, stance wide. leon moved in throwing a slow jab that you slipped, then a hook you caught on your elbow. he was taking it easy on you—you could tell by the way he pulled his punches, the way his breath stayed steady while yours came in fast sharp gasps.

"better." he closed the distance stepping inside your reach and suddenly his hands were on your hips, guiding you backward. "but you're still thinking too much. fightings not about thinking."

"what’s it about?" the words came out breathier than you intended.

his hands stayed on you, warm through the thin cotton of your tank top. "you gotta feel it.”

he moved again, a sweep that knocked your feet out from under you, but his arms caught you before you hit the mat. for a heartbeat you were suspended, back arched with his body pressed against yours from chest to thigh. then he lowered you down, following one knee between your legs, his breath ghosting across your jaw.

the mat smelled like rubber and sweat. leon smelled like something darker—cedar and gunpowder and the sharp musk of exertion. his face was inches from yours, that stubbled jaw tight, eyes blown at the pupils.

"this part of the lesson?" you managed.

his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. "depends. you want to learn what happens when you can't get back up?"

your heart slammed against your ribs. his weight pressed down, and you felt it—the hard ridge of him through his tactical pants, grinding against the heat between your legs. not accidental. definitely not accidental.

"leon..”

he shifted just slightly and the friction sent a jolt through your entire body. your hips rolled up to meet him, instinct overriding any pretense of training. his breath caught. his hands slid from your hips to your thighs, gripping, spreading you wider beneath him.

"yeah?..” he breathed, almost to himself. "yeah, that's it."

you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt pulling him closer and he obliged—dropping his weight fully onto you, pelvis grinding into yours in a slow deliberate rhythm. the rough fabric of his pants dragged against your shorts catching a friction that made your toes curl beneath your shoes.

his mouth found your throat, open-mouthed, teeth scraping over the pulse point. "been watching you all session-“ he growled against your skin. "the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating.. the way your tits bounce when you move. Fuck."

you arched into him, wrapping a leg around his waist and he groaned—low and guttural, a sound that vibrated through his chest into yours. his hips pistoned harder, that thick pressure rubbing directly over your clit where you needed it most, every grind sending sparks up your spine.

"that feel good?" his voice ragged now, losing that controlled edge. "feel how hard I am for you?"

you could. god you could feel every inch of him, straining against the fly of his pants, pressing into the cradle of your thighs. your own body responded, soaking through the fabric slick and desperate.

"yeah!” you gasped. "dont stop..!”

he didn't. he picked up the pace, both hands gripping your ass now lifting you into each thrust. the mat squeaked beneath you. Your breaths mingled hot and fast and you could feel it building—that coiling tension in your belly, the way your walls clenched around nothing desperate for him.

his forehead dropped to yours. "im.. gonna—fuck, I'm close—"

and then a red light blinked on the far wall.

leon froze. his eyes snapped open tracked to the corner of the ceiling, where a security camera stared down at the mat like a dead eye.

"shit.”

he was off you in an instant rolling to his feet, adjusting his pants with practiced efficiency. you lay there flushed, trembling legs still open, watching him run a hand through his disheveled hair.

“cameras.” he said voice clipped, all business now. “central feeds. people gotta be watching.”

you sat up slowly heat burning your cheeks for an entirely different reason now. the abandoned ache between your legs throbbed unfulfilled.

leon offered you a hand up. His grip was steady but his eyes swept over you once—lingering on the hard peaks of your nipples visible through the sweat-damp tank top. his jaw tightened.

when he spoke again his voice had dropped back to that low private register. "meet me in the locker room.”

he squeezed your hand once then released it, already walking toward the control room with that easy unhurried stride.

you stood there legs shaky, pussy aching watching him go. the camera's red eye still blinked indifferent and omniscient.