lydia

ln1, dc | she/her/hers, 18 | requests open

[monacofiles]

masterlist ⋆˙⟡

hi! my name is lydia and I write miscellaneously and just for fun :p. please find everything here or in the appropriate tags listed. requests are open.

media I write for (including pretty much all characters): ⟡ resident evil (Leon, chris, jill--anyone really) ⟡ dc (batam/justice league/peacemaker) ⟡ Ryan gosling cinematic universe

rygos cinematic universe

lars lindstrom #lars :p latest...like a river runs

resident evil

chris redfield #chris :p latest...the rest of him

leon kennedy #leon :p latest...all I need

dc comics

adrian chase #peacemaker :p latest...adrian chase and his mom

batman & co #batfam :p latest...resident evil 2 in Gotham au

formula 1

thought pieces #f1 thought piece

murphy's law? No, Lando's law. ➾ lando norris, anti piastri

piastri's free attitude pass ➾ lando norris, anti piastri

qatar gp thoughts as a Depressed lando fan ➾ lando norris, Oscar piastri, anti McLaren

[1nsignia]

fluff, jason todd

—————————————————————————

jason todd never indulged in gossip “you’re fucking with me” “honest to god”

why would he? it was immature and ill-mannered to talk about someone’s life! their decisions are their decisions

“she slept with him. in his office” “yup”

... at least that's what he liked to believe in

jason gave you the most baffled look you’ve ever seen on his face. it made you snort and wave a hand at his face. “hello? earth to jason” immediately, jason blinked and snapped out of it. both of you were sitting on the couch, your legs sprawled on his lap and his hands idly tracing your knee.

“wait wait wait—" he slightly shifted his body to face you, the traces on your knee stopping as his large, warm hand just rested flat on it. “let me get this straight. you’re telling me that nancy—" “uh huh” “the same one who tried to get your promotion months ago--" “that’s her” “was caught sleeping with your boss at his office—" “not caught, per se.” “whatever” jason waved it off and continued. “and to top it off, she’s married to drew for— how long?” “8 years” you hummed, scooting closer to him and biting your bottom lip to hold back a laugh from the look on his face as he was processing this new information you gave him. and when it did, he just sighed and shook his head, his fingers now resuming the slow and lazy circles he traced on your knee. 

“sweetheart, your office environment is crazy” you could still hear how he was still slightly bewildered from the bombshell you just dropped on him. he was also confused as to why HR wasn't involved already

“hey, it pays the bills” you joked, lifting a hand to run through jason’s soft hair in that slow and gentle manner that always had him melt into your touch. “plus, at least there’s something to keep me entertained while i work in boredom” “you know you can leave your job and i can take care of everything, right?” jason reminded you— for what felt like the millionth time—but you just smiled softly and nodded. “yeah i know, but how else am i gonna come bearing news to you?” “…touché. i still need to know why carol and jesse aren’t talking to each other”

now that you couldn’t hold your laugh for. the wide smile on your face and your laugh softened jason’s eyes, a smile of his own appearing. his hand slipped beneath your knee to pull you close, the other hand cupping your face as he pulled you into a kiss

you could practically feel the smile on his face turn into a grin, and it made your smile grow as you kissed him back. it was a kiss of quiet contentment— slow, familiar and overflowing with the kind of affection that only came from loving someone for a long time

his hand remained cradling your cheek, his thumb lazily brushing across your skin with a small hum slipping out from your fingers combing through his hair

slowly, both of you broke the kiss, foreheads leaning on one another with nothing but pure love and adoration for one another

“so how was your night?” you asked, now laying your head on his chest. he just hummed, shifting his arm to drape over your shoulders and keep you close. “it was fine” a beat “…so bruce was basically being annoying like always and—"

okay maybe jason indulged in some gossip. keyword—some

—————————————————————————

main taglist: @sweetpeasosweet @lcvgty-4929 @fratbrochrisgf @wrldbloom @arabellas-barbarella-swimsuit12 @vianawaits @edawgz @hottubnda @onlyfeng @lucky-clover13 @tragicfiend @nyx-of-night @missmontiopath @bloomfaery @booksrcool @jaydennicole @gglouise23 @sicklyhana @klauvy @pocket-fish0 @romancedawn333 @sashadonat @uxavity @batslilwhore @oh-sheetcake @boo-123456 @ydivine @the-star-rover @slutfordpr @advline @arfemiz @freakkay09 @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hernersworld @starrydustedwinter @inejskywalker @seeker2028 @ksiazkowaxx-blog @kh4dij7 @vanillakirstein @lillie1320 @scissorhvnds @branchesofmagic @devilslittlehelper @starr-jazz @nightwingblvd @yukimaniac @freddiweasly @devorator666 @dadump @ftkats @starl1ghtgr4yson @st4rstuddedreblogs @em12021 @heleneae

@darkxwolfsstuff @imintoomanyfandoms14 @littlelightbearer @th3d1nOr3ad3r @psychopompsblog @wwolfsca @kaiiii1009 @century-eggg @tvhore @chickenchickenpie @fanofthebatfam @sillygayfreak @tskdeion @potatoheartsyou @faepoetry @theall-seeingone (tags are open)

©1nsignia— please do not steal, repost or reuse my work

[lanadelreyylover]

first time

Leon Kennedy x Virgin!Reader

Leon talks you through your first time

based on this request

taglist: @cakeofhorrors @rainyxie @venus-in-roses @ghostieistiredd @jqsjournal

(one day, I'm gonna remember to put the taglist in BEFORE I publish)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks into your mouth, mid-kiss, although he can read your mind. Perhaps he’s reading your body language instead, the way your shoulders tense, your lungs expanding to full volume, how your fingers tremble as you unbutton his shirt. But none of those physical manifestations of anxiety can eclipse the pure, unadulterated need in your stomach, far beyond the innocent flutters of butterfly wings at first blush. This feeling–the flame across your cheeks, the throb between your legs–it’s something utterly sinful. There’s nothing sweet about it.

“I’m sure, Leon,” you say, the words carried from your throat on the back of a hitched breath. How unconvincing. 

Then, to make things worse, you pull back. Why did you pull back? 

“Everything alright?” He asks, already high off the taste of your mouth, forcing himself from his euphoria to check in with you, though there’s nothing he wants more in this moment than to rip the cloth from your body and ravish everything that was beneath it.

You swallow hard, a nest of fear and guilt caught in your throat, scratching the gummy sides of your esophagus on the way down. “Don’t freak out, okay?” 

Leon can’t help but let his eyes go wide. His mind travels to dark places in the beat of silence between you. “What is it?” 

Maybe you don’t tell him. You still have time. Act coy and coquettish, write your hesitation off as flirtation when he asks why you pulled away. Still, looking into his eyes, all large and fawn-like, and filled to the brim with such care you’d be an ass to keep anything from someone so understanding and willing to listen, especially something as important as this. He deserves to know, like he deserves to have all of you.

“I’ve never done this before. Ever.” 

His brows furrow. “What?” Then, as if you can see the cogs turning through a window in his forehead, you watch him put the pieces together, nodding at his conclusion. “Sex?” 

“Mhm.” You cut your eyes, unable to meet his. “Sorry.” The apology quickly slips from your lips, a formality you’ve taken upon yourself more than bending under the pressure. It’s not as though you’re embarrassed or ashamed, but it seems like something to say at the moment. 

“Hey, look at me. No need to apologize,” he promises, crooking a finger under your chin to direct your gaze back to him. 

“I haven’t scared you off?” 

“Honey,” he says with a laugh as if you just told him the sky is green. “It takes a lot more than that to scare me.” And you know he’s not lying. “But–”

“You don’t want it?” 

The tension in his brows melts, and he tilts his head as though personally offended by your assumption. “That’s not true, and you know it.” He grabs your face in his hands, dipping his chin to give you a sweet peck on the forehead. “I just want to make sure it’s something you want. Is it?” 

You nod against his lips, then he pulls away, a smirk at the corner of his mouth. 

“Can I hear you answer in that pretty voice of yours?” 

“Yes. Yes, Leon, I want it.” 

He smiles with a little bit of tooth. “Good.” 

“Deep breath. Come on, deep breath.”

You inhale, pushing your lungs to their full capacity, savoring the scent of Leon’s skin: musk and clove, black pepper, and that specific smell attached to men who don’t try too hard to smell good but it seems to be embedded in their DNA. 

“That’s it. One more time. Just relax.” 

Another inhale. This time, you feel your hips melt a little further into the mattress, your head dizzying as though you took a hit of a joint or sipped on a glass of wine. A good, deep breath is a drug in and of its own. 

“There you go,” he coos, pumping himself in his fist. You try not to look, already intimidated by the sheer size of him. Not too thick but, boy, is he long. And pretty. With a pink head, already weeping with a bead of anticipation, and a few sprawling veins that crawl up and down the length. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay. I’m here.” 

He could make you kill a man if he asked you in that voice. 

From above, his eyes are affixed to yours as he awaits your signal. “You ready?” 

You nod. “Yes. Please.” Parting your legs just a bit more to accommodate the width of his hips between them, you allow the head to glide up and down your pussy, waiting teasingly at your seam.

He chuckles lightly at your plea, manually lining himself up with your hole, already sopping wet from the work of his tongue. Then, he enters you. One inch at a time until he’s half-way there, another promise. The stretch is something you could never imagine on your own without experiencing it once or twice. It burns. Like that time when you were a kid and fell off your bike, knees scratched and gouged. And it stings. 

You hiss through gritted teeth, immediately regretting it once Leon’s hips stop moving, and he’s caught, half-way inside.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, looking down at you. Strands of icy blonde hair hang down like curtains, the tips tickling your forehead. “You okay?” 

Biting down on your lower lip, you nod. “Yes, keep going.”

He doesn’t. One hand comes to cup your cheek, the other smoothing your hair down the side of your head, his weight still resting on his elbows, dug into the mattress top. “If you want to stop, just tell me, okay?” He would really hate that, though. You’re so tight around him, squeezing his cock to the point he’s unsure if it’d let him go. “Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Leon plunges the fullness of his length inside you, causing you to cry out like a wounded animal on the forest floor, or a future piece of roadkill on the side of the highway. 

“You’re doing such a good job. Keep breathing for me. Just relax.”

He goes slow at first, warming you up, waiting for the signals that your pain has melted into pleasure. Once he hears your cries turn into gasping moans, he picks up the pace, hips slapping against your pelvic bone, the sloppy, wet sound like a cheer from the sidelines of a race. 

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. “You’re taking me so good.” The praise is punctuated by a whimper of his own. “Doin’ so good for me, baby.” 

You dig your fingernails into the meat of his shoulders, tethering yourself to him, sure the movement could saw you into the mattress if you didn’t hold on to something. His chest begins to beat against yours, his heart thumping through his pec, the beat matching the rhythm of his thrusts

“You feel me stretching you? That feels good, huh?”

Not sure what to say, worried you’ll make a joke or something just as stupid, you nod quietly, drinking in the sounds of his pleasure, each moan and yelp from him adding to your own. It does feel good. Not quite the screaming, crying type of ‘feels good’, the kind of euphoric pleasure he inflicts on you when he eats you out, but it has the potential to be.

He tries so hard to elongate the act–it’s your first time after all. That’s the least he could do. 

But that all too familiar tension grows in his abdomen, the muscles there contracting and releasing at an erratic pace, and his cock begins to throb as he continues plowing into your pussy. Your pretty, wet pussy–fuck–he’s gone. 

Not even two whole minutes and he’s already finishing inside you, seizing and thrashing as he releases his pleasure. For a man who wasn’t, at all, inexperienced, one would think it was his first time.

[palelipstick]

How do u think abt an amusement park date with older jill or younger jill (like haunted house, roller coaster, sky wheel etc)? XD

۶ৎ ugh i fuckin miss amusement parks so bad so thanks for this request @>

Older Jill is the type to immediately upgrade her pass after the first ride because she didn't wanna wait another hour for the next one , alsobcuz she actually found the ride fun (she didn't belirve you at first). After the upgrade, she's the one dragging you everywhere now and sometimes she walks too fast and accidentally leaves you behind.

Jill is more of a ride person but would come with you into a haunted house and this time she'd intentionally sabotage you and leave you behind to scare you shitless (she doesn't care if you cry or not oops). But of course she makes up for it by buying you whatever you want or letting you choose the next ride.

Jill lvoes to splurge and this means tons of photos too. She'd pretend to listen to you when you're discussing what poses to make during the drop when the picture is taken and then when the time comes she'd end up doing a bunch of bullshit poses that would piss you off (gives you a surprise kiss on the next one though so you can't complain).

She definitely prefers the exciting adult rides but also forces her way into the kiddie rides to get her money's worth. She'd make scary faces just to intimidate the kids for fun. When the ride goes into secluded spots she tries to make out with you but secretly sulks if you reject her.

[renviary]

jaybin redraw + yap sesh w papa (familial/platonic)

[cowsnotcrows]

Time to be weird and scary with big bro!

based on the trend from twitter (I think I’m not on there lmao)

[kaychen666]

[Doodle]小動物

[ethernalium]

Resident Evil 4 (2023)

[spacenerdelite]

Listen can I be a sap for one sec? Can you hear me out?

Do you understand how much it meant to me that Stratt was never seen in anything other than comfy loose business clothes in the movie? Her every outfit is layers, loose pants, a turtleneck sweater, scarves. Ever article of clothing is about her comfort alone, literally not one bit of it serves any other function.

Do you understand how rare that is? What that means? To me and probably every other person who was raised to feel like their body was a display model only? Other characters that might have comfy outfits inevitably have this moment where they suddenly dress like a bombshell, like it's their debut as a romantic candidate.

But not Eva Stratt. She got to be interesting purely for the person she is. We got to see HER. Focus on her character and not her body. To this DAY it blows my mind. Every time I see her dressed this way that feeling of being bowled over by it renews.

Eva Stratt continues to take my breath away for all the right reasons. That woman is ethereal and I can say that about her character without every having known what her body even looks like. Thank god.

[elois-illust]

[figuraine]

carpet imprints

[lanadelreyylover]

tickles

Leon Kennedy x Reader

Your bedtime ritual isn't complete without back scratches from your darling Leon

based on this request

taglist: @cakeofhorrors @rainyxie@venus-in-roses@ghostieistiredd

Leon’s hands have choked. They’ve stabbed. They’ve skinned. They’ve killed creatures you couldn’t conjure up in the deepest, darkest vaults of your imagination. And yet, they touch you with nothing less than tender, loving care. 

His fingers swipe up and down your back, his nails catching all the right places, so feather-light it almost tickles. That’s where this little ritual got its name from. 

“More tickles,” you whimper, shifting onto your front to give him a better angle.

It’s annoying as hell, the way you squeal and beg for his hands to scratch your back, your thighs, up and down the length of your arms, even your ties (?). 

Five more minutes! 

Yet it’s the thing he craves the most while he’s out on missions in the middle of who knows where, caked in dirt and blood and substances he doesn’t even want to give a name. 

His hands constantly ache to touch your skin, almost as much as they ache when he does. 

“My hands are tired,” he says, his nails retreating. 

You glance over at him, puckering your lips into a pout. “Just until I fall asleep?” 

His dark brows furrow. “That could be thirty minutes from now.” 

“Okay, one more minute, then,” you negotiate. It’s not a question. Leon rolls his eyes, gesturing for you to lie back down. 

You’re oh-so pretty, and he has the forethought to imagine what it’ll be like next week, when he’s been shipped out on another assignment, the tips of his fingers only knowing the cold, hard trigger of his gun, the stem of his blade. In that moment, he’ll be wishing he was right back here, in bed, touching you. 

Tired hands, be damned.

“Fine.” He chuckles, relenting, brushing your hair from the nape of your neck. “Five more minutes.” 

[lanadelreyylover]

speak up

RE4!Leon Kennedy x Reader

You've always been on the shier, more anxious side, and Leon usually finds it adorable, except for in the bedroom. One evening, he comes home in an especially grumpy mood, exhausted from another day of work, and he's no longer charmed by that little quirk of yours

based on this request

taglist: @cakeofhorrors @rainyxie@venus-in-roses

“No, no,” he warns, clicking his tongue, shaking his head slowly. He’s too fucking tired to deal with you retreating into silence like this–a quirky habit of yours he usually finds quite adorable. But not tonight. “None of that. Tell me what you want.” 

You nibble at your lower lip, taking the plump pillow between your teeth, rolling it around. “Whatever you want, Leon, really I–”

He makes a sound, a cheap imitation of a gameshow buzzer. “Nope, try again.” His eyes are cut down to you as he brackets your body with his fists. Your legs are parted to accommodate his hips, and your thighs are starting to get sore from the stretch. 

“Come on, you have to tell me. I can’t read your mind, baby.” 

The man shot an entire magazine into a crazed cult leader and brought the president’s daughter back home, safe and sound, in the same breath. And he’s starting to lose his patience. 

“I don’t know what I like,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders against the mattress. Above you, Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes, playful and coy as always, but tonight it’s tainted with frustration, and that only raises your anxiety levels. “You always make me feel good, no matter what you do so…” 

Your voice trails off into a thick silence, eclipsed by the thump of your heartbeat in your chest. 

He sighs, collapsing onto the bed next to you, turning to his side, propping his head up on the heel of his palm. His other hand comes to your bare abdomen, fingers trailing up and down your skin. Then, it rises to your cheek, his knuckle lightly grazing the soft peach skin there. 

“You don’t trust me?” His lips pucker into a pout, the heads of his brows cinched together in dramatic concern.

“Of course I do,” you’re quick to rectify, not wanting Leon to sit with that thought for a second more. 

“Then what is it? Are you not comfortable with me?” 

“I am,” you say, lowering your gaze. “I am.” 

“But?”

When you fail to answer before the sand runs through the hourglass, Leon huffs, turning to lie on his back. “Then I’m not touching you until you tell me what you want. Simple as that.” 

“What?” It’s your turn to sit up on your elbow, gazing down at him. His lids are shut, faintly fluttering as he adjusts his head on the pillow beneath it like he does when he’s preparing to sleep.

“You heard me.” 

“But you had such a long day at work. I want to make you feel better.” 

He lifts the arch of his brows, eyes still closed. “Now you know how I feel.” 

You swallow hard, falling back onto the bed beside him, weighing your options like produce on a scale. Your pussy is aching, clenching around nothing but your own arousal, desperate to feel him inside you. There’s a tightly-wound ball of tension in your gut, yet you don’t know what would sate it. Maybe it’s your lack of experience dictating your desires, or the shame you anticipate would creep up your limbs if you voiced it. 

But you trust Leon, and you’re comfortable with him, like you said. So why can’t you just string the words together and breathe life into them like he needs you to?

“Leon,” you say with a shaky breath. 

“Baby?” He arches a brow at you, head reclined on the pillow, unmoving. 

“I want–” you choke down the lump rising in your throat. “I want you inside me.” 

His eyes open, cutting toward you. “That so?” 

You nod, the simple gesture enough to lure him back on top of you, arms bracketing your head once more. 

“Your fingers.” 

“Ah.” One of his hands remains by your temple, caressing your head, as the other slinks down your waist, between your legs, his knuckles nudging them open. They spread for him almost instinctively, barely needing any encouragement, and his fingers take no time slathering your arousal through your folds, around your clit in languorous circles, teasing your entrance. “How many do you want, baby?” 

“Two,” you squeak, the stretch of his middle and ringer finger sending an electric eel writhing through your veins. Icy-hot and magnetic. 

“And do you want me to push them in and out?” 

You shake your head. “No, keep them in, but bend your knuckles.” Inside you, he swiftly repeats the ‘come hitcher’ motion you perform with your own digits, and the pads of his fingers immediately press the sensitive spot behind your front wall. 

“I–I–” you gasp aloud, front teeth sinking into the plush flesh of your bottom lip. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he goads, looking down at you from half-lidded eyes. “Tell me what you need.” His voice is so soothing, so lulling, you can’t resist. 

“Harder.” 

He obeys, bending his fingers inside you until you can no longer contain your pleasure, and your walls contract around him, the muscles of your abdomen tensing and releasing at an erratic pace. You cry out his name, the sheets beneath you now balled up in your fists. It’s the most intense climax you’ve experienced in a while, and your come down is violent and jarring, your insides throbbing as you fall back against the mattress. 

“See what happens when you use that pretty voice of yours?”

[743-cereal]

I like how he looks like he’s always pouting a bit

[monacofiles]

yep, if we wanna sum it up a looot it basically boils down to that. sigh.

their audience is… wide. there are lots of kids and pre-teens, sure, but i think the strongest component is made up of proper teens (15-18) and people in their early twenties, but also people in their late twenties and in their thirties. so the problem here is that people don’t want to understand, not that they’re incapable of doing so or of picking up certain things. most fans actually are. i think so. i hope, at least (?). ok listen, maybe i just curated my internet spaces too well to truly have a grasp of the percentage of people who actually understand where the issues lie and the ones who are only here to jump on the smear bandwagon. but alas, even if the latter is not that many numerically, they tend to be very loud and very obnoxious, which is extremely annoying and unfortunate, ‘cause they make the rest of us eyekons look bad and only wreak havoc in an already frail (frail as in: divided) fanbase, besides further metaphorically stomping on the girls’ necks, which is main source of worry, of course. i like to think — no, i know — they’re stronger than the hate, though, and they’re re undoubtedly better than the haters. i hope things will get better for them soon, that’s all. cutting ties with their current management would surely be a good first step towards that, and i sincerely hope they’re able to do so.

as for the hiatus, i rebuke this energy and hope things get solved (or at least her position gets cleared up) and it doesn’t turn out the same way, but as a 1D veteran myself… yeah, the alarm bells have been ringing for a while now. the parallels with zayn’s situation and the conditions for the following disbandment are eerily similar…

regarding manon, she’s always been a creative person, and a talented one — playing piano and the ukulele, writing poems and songs, painting —, so i’m sure one way or another she’s gonna get her breakthrough. i don’t know if she’s interested in pursuing a solo music career, but i have no doubts she could if she put her mind into into. but she also has interests in acting (which she gave us a taste of), directing, modelling and the fashion world, so the possibilities truly are endless. she’s talented, determined, hardworking, learns quickly and gathered a loyal following, so whatever she chooses to pursue it’s probably gonna turn out good, and her fans will have her back in any case, which isn’t something to underestimate. i don’t know what hxg wanted to achieve with this hiatus, but whatever sick game they were playing in her face only retorted against them. they weren’t able to tape her wings the first time, they’re not gonna be able to do it now. and at the end of the day that’s all that matters, really.

I think (at least from the outside) katseye have a really loyal fanbase and its sad to see that its so divided. I always see eyekons defending at least one girl or their music or whatever else, so it's SUCH a shame that they can't unite better. I think those girls are very very talented and deserve to have people who can appreciate them as a whole without starting things.

also I don't know if its just the fact that I've sort of been researching them, but I've gotten like 2 videos now of compilations where the girls apparently don't like each other by how they act and I think that's part of the reason why these fandom divides are happening. people reading into every expression and behaviour doesn't help anyone

as well, hate trains (specifically toward women sigh) are so quick to catch on right now, especially since media literacy is at an all time low so people aren't really thinking for themselves. it seems like a rough situation for all those girls so you'd think FANS of all people would be more forgiving toward it, but people can be so weird.

I think a lot of the issues they're facing (maybe not so much the fans, but fan wars are definitely a partial result from poor management) really stem from that management, so I hope they're able to get away from that and establish themselves with the sort of music they'd like to make and all that.

[the-archxr]

MY MOON, MY MAN

LEON KENNEDY X AFAB!FEM!READER

SUMMARY: nothing crazy, really… just you and Leon trying something new!

CONTENT: 18+ - mdni! piv - THEE. PRONE BONE SESSION (I drool), headlockinggg, reader’s a bit subby/soft-dom leon (maybe?), creampie, heavy petting, praise kink goes crazy in this. I implied that reader is a bit curvy/chubby, but it’s still fairly neutral so read it however you want. a really messy alternating pov but whatever. lovey dovey shit fr fr.

WC: 1.7k

NOTES: this is nothing more than a leon kennedy’s moobs-and-biceps appreciation fic (inspired by “my moon my man” by feist). **also! I had re4r Leon in mind while writing this but it’s not at all specified so you can honestly imagine whatever Leon you want.**

Leon Kennedy Masterlist!

•••

“You okay, baby?” Leon cooes low at you, his voice smooth and dangerously molten.

“…H-hmm—uh huh.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Your boyfriend’s mouth drags along the ridge of your shoulders. With a light kiss of his teeth, and a few well-placed tentative licks to the sticky skin, he’s making the concerted effort to claim all of you. His. His, as you’ve been countless times before. His, as you will always be.

Your throat is dry; hoarse and cracked, and he hasn’t even entered you yet—but you can’t help it. He had already pulled one orgasm out of you earlier with his mouth and his hands, but now, as he pins you to the bed with his knees and chest, you swear you might come again at any moment.

You’re incredibly sensitive right now, having already been keyed up so high. Leon, of course, has absolutely no problem using this fact to his advantage.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he says quietly, warm breath curling around your ear.

“What?” you hiccup.

“You’re shivering.”

As if to prove his point, his hands—calloused and strong from years of use—dance along your sides. They move from the dip of your hips to where your breasts bulge at their sides.

Sighing, you say, “Well, when you do that…” and bury your face into the mattress.

Leon laughs and your body absorbs it like it’s your own. As if your bones are conductors, the sound sends an addictive jolt to the pulsing organ in your chest and between your thighs.

“We don’t have to do this, you know, if you’re too nervous.”

You’re quick to shake your head and even quicker to arch back into him. A little absently, you think then about how in this position, you two slot perfectly together—like you were made to fit.

“Want to,” you add weakly. “Wanna do this with you, Lee. Please.” For good measure (as if your words in all their breathy, whiney nature weren’t indicative of how you felt), you start to roll your hips back. Leon groans loud.

His flushed, hot tip rests just inches away from your weepy hole. He watches you flutter on nothing; as the slick pooling there catches the silvery moonlight strobing through the bedroom window. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. God-sent and lovely and all his. To take, to have, to hold…

Your hips move again, slowly, dangerously, and Leon stops you with a hard hand to the dip of your spine, making you squeak. “Baby…” he warns.

“Leon, please. Please, honey…wan’ you so much.”

Leon inhales, all sharp and shaky. “Alright…yeah, yeah, okay. …Whatever you want, baby.” He kisses your spine once more as he crawls up your body.

With his thighs bracketing yours, he pushes down on you with the hard line of his abs. His pecs—all swollen and round and slick with sweat—cement to your shoulders. The sheer mass of his body feels as if it’s swallowing you whole. You preen at the contact, letting out a mewl so pathetic you even surprise yourself.

Gradually then, with the kind of control and calculation he exhibits at work, Leon pushes his thick head through your gummy walls. He’s so painfully hard that it takes everything in him to go slow. And, by the time his pelvis is flush to your ass, he already feels spent.

The crook of Leon’s chin hooks around your shoulder ensuring his face is firmly pressed against yours. He pants heavy in your ear, and out of the corner of your vision, you see his face flush a berry-red.

“Fuck, baby. You—shit—y’feel—”

“Leon…‘m ready.”

The man nods, mainly to himself, before pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. Slowly—just as slowly as he entered you—his hips draw back. The languid drag of him has you grasping aimlessly at the sheets; the thick vein that curves around his even thicker cock is relentless in catching the ridges of your walls. In this position, you’re able to feel all of him. “God, Leon...”

Of course, sex with Leon has always been something else entirely…but this? There aren’t enough words in any language to describe the way you’re feeling right now.

“I know, baby, I know. I need you just as bad,” Leon purrs. You just nod along, jaw falling as Leon slowly slides back into you. He braces himself then, arching and tightly curving over your figure.

“How do you want it, baby? Like this?” His hips speed up then, shallow thrusts that have your thighs immediately stinging with the friction of being stationary. Still, you groan, eyes rolling back into your head as he keeps pace. After a while, Leon shifts over top of you again. “Or do you want it like this?” With steady hips, he suddenly slams forward, the action practically punching your soul straight out of your body. You cry when his head shoves directly into that spongey notch deep inside you.

Desperately, you reach for the hand braced by your head. Leon locks your fingers with his before bringing them to the soft skin of his mouth.

“Hm, you like that?” You try to crane your head so that you can meet your boyfriend’s eyes, but Leon ‘tsks’ at you. You aren’t at all ashamed by the attempt or his response, though. It’s done without any sort of malice. Nothing more than light teasing, born from a place of reverence and pure, unadulterated love. “Use your words, baby. Gotta know you want it. Need to know I’m making you feel good, y’know?”

“Shit, Le—yes. Yes, like that. Fuck—“ you manage to eventually get the words out, only for another thrust to leave you blubbering.

Leon lets go of your hand, but only for the briefest of moments, before his fingers come up under your jaw. He cradles your face as he finds your mouth, a curtain of his blonde hair hanging low over your eyes. He licks at your own tongue, at the corners of your lips, behind your teeth… Any and every inch of space he can reach becomes learned in a matter of seconds (as if he already wasn’t so intimately accustomed).

Because of the pillow beneath your hips, Leon’s able to fix his grip on you every once in a while—whether the pads of his fingers are digging into the tempting plains of your waist, or the fat of your shuddering thighs. Each thrust has his pubic bone bouncing against your ass in an even, but incredibly hard-hitting pace.

Leon nips at your earlobe, gently tugging on the loose flesh so as strengthen (or perhaps ground) his dwindling resolve. In little time, he feels the effects of his impending orgasm: his balls tightening against your puffy clit, dick swelling deep within your walls…

You’re just so warm, and so wet, and so…so good to him, so good for him, Leon can’t resist the flurry of emotions threatening to escape him. “Fuck, I love you. Love you so much, baby. Always so tight for me. Shit. Y’love sucking me in like this, don’t you?”

“Leon…” is all you can manage to say. It’s the only warning your hazy brain can conjure up; the only thing on the tip of your tongue other than another strangled whimper.

Leon understands though. He always does.

You’re close. Really, really close. The sound of your squelching slick as he rifles through you over and over; the way your spine arches and your feet start to helplessly kick out from beneath you—it’s all the confirmation he needs.

The muscles in his arms have begun to strain, a sharp tightness that blooms from his wrist all the way up to his shoulders. He takes the opportunity then to collapse onto you, carefully accommodating some of his weight with his knees so as not to smother you entirely (though he would without question if that’s what you asked).

The sounds of your whines pitch higher and higher with every snap of his hips. You’re shaking again, though this time it’s for sure an unconscious act. In relieving his arms from the awkward angle, Leon’s able to wrap an arm around your head, and you nearly choke on spit when you realize what he’s doing.

Leon’s arm—meaty bicep, veins, and all—rests safely against your collarbone, holding you snug to his chest. His cheek is pressed to yours again, so close that you’re convinced you’re practically becoming one (as if you haven’t already…). You’re both two halves of one heart stitched together; all haphazard, but terrifyingly real.

“I need you to come for me. Can you do that, baby? Can you make a mess for me?” His voice is a beautiful ragged sound—one that in any other situation would have you pushing your hips back to meet his. But not this time. Leon has you locked in place, pliant and safe as the knot of your orgasm pulls tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

So with that, you opt to just nod into Leon’s arm, albeit rather weakly. Suddenly, you feel a different kind of pressure come up between your hips.

Leon somehow managed to sneak his free hand down to your cunt, calculated fingers once again toying with your clit in easy circles. And that alone that has you coming with a sharp and stuttered gasp. While you shudder and twitch, Leon continues his ministrations; humping and grinding into you while his own release crests.

He grunts and huffs as he spills into you, as if his fucked-out body can’t decide on which sound it wants or needs to make. Regardless, all that really matters is that you’re holding on tight to him, whispering something about how good he makes you feel and how much you love him.

Of course, Leon has to return the sentiment tenfold. He doesn’t say it exactly like how you did (he’s never been the best with words), but as he cleans you up, petting your head and kissing everywhere the damp cloth doesn’t—from the inner curve of your knee, to your navel, to the hollow of your throat—he knows that you understand.

Because this is how you love each other. You, through your words, and him with his actions and adoring eyes.

[xozoldyck]

Chris Redfield x gn!Reader: The Art of Decoration

C: Moving into your first home with Chris was a true milestone. The countless open houses, bargains, rejections, and faulty agreements suddenly came to a halt when you both signed the shared ownership. Only one question remains: how will you decorate it?

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After picking up the keys, you and Chris eagerly drove en route to your new home. What should have been a 15-minute drive easily turned into seven (minutes, 7 minutes…). While you would have lectured Chris for his lead foot, the shedded eight minutes was beneficial for everyone, as your excitement was boiling over. It meant you guys could get home all the faster.

Stepping into the house was almost surreal. Even though it was empty, floors and walls bare alike, there was a sense of hope brewing between you two. This was an opportunity to make something out of nothing. And this something would become your home.

You and Chris started with the staples. A large sofa took up residence in the living room, accompanied by a circular coffee table on top of a small rug. The TV sat on its stand, parallel to the couch. The kitchen was filled with old dishes, cutlery, and other appliances you and Chris each had from your previous rental properties. The kitchen table was a little wonky, scuffed around the edges, but was made whole with mismatched chairs tucked along its sides. The thought of waking up every morning to share brewed coffee with Chris had you beaming. You could practically see the yellow light sift through his short hair, sipping his morning joe. It was going to be a good time in your lives, you just knew it.

~~

A couple of months passed quickly with Chris and the house. Different furniture items and clothes found their permanent locations in designated rooms. Slowly, but surely, your home gained its own personal charm. On one particular Saturday morning, you sat on the couch, cereal in hand, when Chris plopped himself beside you. The sheer weight of his body caused the cushions to sink beneath him and you to pool around his side.

“Well good morning to you,” you say, laughing, all while cautiously maneuvering the milk in your bowl.

“You were quick out of bed this morning,” Chris questioned, “How did you expect me to stay warm all alone like that?” Despite his half-lidded eyes, a cheeky smile spread across his face, one that was completely foreign to his team at the B.S.A.A..

“I could introduce you to the concept of a blanket, Chris,” you replied, teasingly.

“Mmm, yes of course. A true novelty to me,” Chris responded sarcastically before stealing a bite of your cereal. “Speaking of blankets,” he said, “now correct me if I’m wrong, as I am just understanding blanket logistics now, but can blankets be used outside of the bedroom?” The grin on his face only grows wider as he feeds into your remark.

“So, to translate that, you’re saying we need more blankets around the house?” You successfully take a bite of your cereal this time.

“Exactly—since my own partner doesn’t have it in them to warm me in my coldest hours, I must resort to a synthetic alternative.” You roll your eyes at Chris, placing your cereal down on the coffee table. With the breakfast out of the way, you throw yourself over him, wriggling around so as to ‘warm’ him up. 

“Am I doing my job now?” You say, rubbing your hands over his shoulders to create heat. “How could I forget my sole purpose, my duty, as your partner? How could I be sooooo cruel?”

In one swift movement, Chris flipped you over his shoulder. One hand balanced your legs over him, the other quickly targeting your forgotten cereal. Despite your protest, the cereal was gone. You could’ve sworn you had abs from laughing so hard. This was just everyday living with Chris. Nonetheless, the task for today was to pick up a couple of extra blankets. Simple enough, right?

~~

Following a showdown in the mall parking lot (kudos to aggressive drivers), you and Chris eventually found yourselves at the home store. Aisles upon aisles were filled with knick-knacks and any other item that would sit and collect dust, forever unclaimed on the store shelves. Everything from candles to pillows, garden gnomes to scented pencils, all lie just at your fingertips. After grabbing a cart, you and Chris walk hand in hand, browsing each division of the store. You both pick things up, put things down, share opinions on certain candle scents (“Smoked Turkey” was an agreeable no), and discuss the important matter of decorating your shared home.

“I think we could use some more colour,” you say, motioning towards a lampshade with sophisticated embroidery.

“Oh yeah? I think I’ve seen that exact design at a nursing home before,” Chris says, inspecting your lampshade of choice. “Yup, definitely triggering nursing home memories.” You scoff at him, retrieving the lamp from his hands.

“You know, I could’ve sworn you worked for the B.S.A.A., not as a professional lampshade connoisseur.” Chris choked back his laughter. He wasn’t going to let you win this banter too easily.

“Colour, you say…” Chris pondered dramatically before reaching towards a wooden carving of a bear. This bear, in particular, elegantly modelled a pink dress while holding a bouquet of flowers. “Now this would look specccctacular right beside the blender, don’t you think?” He’s already laughing at his own joke, as if there was actually a punchline. Taking the bear from his hands, you place it back on the shelf, now occupying yourself with duck figurines. Two ducks were carved to sit upon a wooden bench, one kissing the other bashfully on the cheek. “This you?” You say to Chris, pointing at the bashful little duck.

“You’re kidding, right? If I’m going to kiss you, I’m not going to be shy about it.”

You raise an eyebrow at the man in front of you as he tries to appeal to you with utmost masculinity and confidence. Before you could respond, Chris took the ducks from your hand and placed them into the cart. “Somebody’s gotta show this duck how to score.” That cheeky smile returned to Chris’ face as he took hold of the cart, pushing it forward, deeper into the store. Safe to say, the next two hours unfolded in a similar manner. By the end of the second hour, the ducks weren’t the only thing taking up space in the cart. Joining them were countless other decorative pieces, patiently waiting to be brought home with the two of you.

~~

Leaving the mall, Chris felt something was off. It was as if he was missing something so obvious, yet he couldn’t conjure any thought to rid him of this feeling. That was, until it hit him, of course.

“Didn’t we come out here for blankets?” Chris realized as you scanned through all the purchases on the receipt. After a moment of utter disbelief at the lack of objectivity and precision you and your military boyfriend had at the home store, you couldn’t help but laugh at Chris’ proclamation.

“Well, guess it’s still my job to keep you warm tonight, huh?” You say, flashing him a silly smile.

“Love, even if we bought the blankets, it’ll always be your job to keep me warm.”

With your home now a little more full of miscellaneous, decorative items, having a little less blankets wasn’t the worst of all trades. If anything, it was another excuse for you and Chris to spend money at the home store again…Perhaps Chris wanted that lampshade after all. xx

(Requests open <3)