anw i just wanted to say how 5 years after RE8 was released Karl Heisenberg still has a chokehold on me. not even Leon's biceps could save me from this brainrot. that's it. see y'all in the next month or so
If you're still sending unsolicited criticism/hate to people in your fandom for their interpretation of a character in 2026 I'm sorry but you're a fucking loser. People are contributing to fandom for free out of their spare time and you are making what should be a space to escape into hobbies hostile. Learn to scroll past fanworks that don't vibe with you and grow the fuck up
Not y'all being down bad for the boys to get some GAWK GAWK LEVEL 5000, but honestly valid 💅🏼👀✨
@ficfield @moogletaskforce tagged you two so y'all can get this first! Hope y'all enjoy! 🖤
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NSFW HC Preferences: Resident Evil Boys x Getting Head
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⚠️WARNING: NSFW asf cause every one of the boyos gonna get some BJs over here! ⚠️
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♂️Male Characters:
Leon S. Kennedy
Chris Redfield
Albert Wesker
Carlos Oliveira
Piers Nivans
Jake Muller
Jack Krauser
Luis Sera
HUNK
Karl Heisenberg
The Merchant
Glenn Arias
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Don't laugh at me! I just had to put this picture cause I'm in a silly mood 🥹🫶🏼
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Leon S. Kennedy
Not Leon initially trying way too hard to stay quiet. His jaw clenched, head tipped back and one hand gripping the nearest surface like it's the only thing that'll keep him from melting into a puddle for the BJ he's about to get. The moment you swirl your tongue around the tip, a cracked “fuck” slips out and he stops pretending.
He enjoys threading his fingers through your hair, though he never pulls but just holds you gently yet firmly like a lifeline.
When he's close to orgasm, his hips are the first to give out these tiny involuntary thrusts he immediately feels guilty about and mutters “sorry” even while his thighs are shaking.
Expect post-orgasm Leon to be clingy in the most softest way. He would pull you up to kiss you lazy and slow, tasting himself on your tongue, whispering “you’re too good to me” like he still can’t believe someone wants to take care of him.
Has a secret thing for when you hum while he’s in your mouth; the vibration makes him grip the back of your neck and groan like he’s been shot all over again.
Chris Redfield
Chris is a big man and he knows it; he spends the first minute just watching you with this awed, almost nervous look like he’s worried he’ll overwhelm you. Once you take the lead, though, that worry melts into the lowest, filthiest growl you’ve ever heard.
He’s a thigh-clencher. Both hands tangle in your hair, not guiding, just resting there because he needs to touch you while you work. When he gets close his quads flex so hard you can feel it against your forearms.
Praise king. Every few seconds it’s “just like that, baby,” “God, you’re perfect,” and when he finally comes it’s with your name in that rough, broken voice that makes you ache.
Likes when you tease the scar on his lower abs with your tongue on the way down; it makes him twitch and huff a laugh that turns into a moan.
Aftercare is immediate: hauls you into his lap, big arms wrapped around you, kissing your forehead and telling you how good you made him feel until you’re both half-asleep.
Albert Wesker
Wesker doesn’t ask; he expects. He’ll tilt your chin up with two fingers, voice cool and clinical: “On your knees.” But the second your mouth is on him, that god-complex falters; his breathing goes shallow and sharp.
He keeps the sunglasses on. Always. Watching you through those red lenses while his gloved hand cups the back of your head is peak power-trip Wesker.
Surprisingly sensitive at the tip; flick your tongue there and his composure cracks; a low hiss, a rare “enough teasing,” the faintest tremor in the thigh you’re gripping.
When he finishes it’s silent but intense; head back and one gloved hand tightening almost painfully in your hair before he forces himself to relax and stroke your cheek like nothing happened.
Will 100% return the favor later with terrifying precision, smirking the entire time like he’s taking notes for next time.
Carlos Oliveira
Carlos is loud from the jump; filthy Portuguese praise rolling off his tongue the moment your lips touch him. Calls you “princesa,” “meu anjo,” all while grinning like he won the lottery.
Loves when you grab his hips or dig your nails into his ass; it makes him laugh breathlessly and buck into your mouth with zero shame.
Has a habit of talking through it: “yeah, just like that, don’t stop; fuck, your mouth is insane.” When he’s close the words slur into desperate groans.
If you cup his balls at the same time, he’s done for; head dropping forward, his immense curls falling into his eyes.
Post-nut Carlos is a cuddly mess; flops back, drags you on top of him, kisses you stupid while mumbling how you’re gonna kill him one of these days and he’ll die happy.
Piers Nivans
Piers is shy at first; cheeks pink, trying to keep those pretty eyes anywhere but on you actually doing it. Takes about thirty seconds before he loses the battle and can’t look away.
The sweetest boy; keeps asking “is this okay?” while his voice is already shaking. When you hum a yes around him his head thunks back against whatever surface is behind him and he whimpers.
Surprisingly sensitive balls; give them a little attention and his whole body jolts, hand flying to cover his mouth like he’s embarrassed by the sound he just made.
When he comes he tries to warn you, always; “babe, I’m.. shit...” and if you swallow anyway he stares at you like you personally hung the moon.
After, he’s peppering your face with soft grateful kisses, blushing hardcore, whispering “I love you” like three times in a row because he still can’t believe you did that for him.
Jake Muller
Jake acts cocky until your mouth is actually on him; then the smirk drops, eyes go wide, and all that bravado turns into a stream of “oh fuck, oh fuck, holy shit.”
Loves when you take control; push him back against a wall or down onto a bed and he’s instantly pliant, hands flexing like he doesn’t know where to put them until you tell him “touch me.”
Has a thing for when you moan around him; the vibration makes him curse and his hips snap forward before he can stop himself.
Will try to keep the dirty talk going right up until he’s too far gone, then it’s just your name repeated like a prayer while his hand tightens in your hair.
After he comes he laughs; this low, disbelieving sound; then drags you up to kiss you messy and grateful, smirking against your lips with a “you trying to ruin me, sweetheart?”
Jack Krauser
Krauser doesn’t sit back and enjoy; he looms. One massive hand collars the back of your neck, thumb pressing just under your jaw like he’s reminding you who’s in charge even when you’re the one on your knees.
Growls more than moans; deep, guttural sounds that rumble in his chest every time you take him deeper. When you hollow your cheeks, the growl cracks into a sharp “fuck” that sounds almost angry.
Despite being an immensely dominant man, he'd sometimes get off on the power shift: the second you hollow your cheeks and take him deep, his breath actually stutters and that iron control slips for half a second; priceless.
Loves testing your limits; slow, deliberate thrusts just to watch your eyes water while he mutters “good girl/boy” in that gravel-low voice. If you gag, his grip tightens and his smirk is pure predator.
When he finishes he holds you down until the very last second, only letting go when his thighs shake. Then he hauls you up by the armpits, kisses you rough, and mutters “you’ll pay for that later” like it’s a promise.
Luis Sera
Luis is dramatic from the first lick; head falling back, Spanish curses flowing like poetry, calling you “mi reina” and “dios mío, your mouth should be illegal.”
Smokes right up until you sink down on him; then the cigarette falls forgotten as he groans your name and threads both hands through your hair like he’s praying.
Cannot shut up; filthy compliments, half-laughing pleas, teasing you about how you look with his cock in your mouth until the words dissolve into desperate gasps.
When he comes it’s with a string of breathless praise and that charming, wrecked laugh; then he hauls you up to kiss you senseless, tasting himself and grinning like a devil who just found heaven.
Lights another cigarette after, offers you a drag, and spends the next five minutes tracing lazy circles on your back while telling you you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.
HUNK
Silent. Deadly silent. The only sounds are his measured breathing and the occasional sharp inhale when you do something particularly evil with your tongue.
Mask stays on; always. But if you reach up and brush your fingers along the edge where skin meets tactical gear, his gloved hand will catch your wrist; not stopping you, just holding, grounding himself.
The second you take him to the root his entire body goes rigid, thighs flexing under your palms like he’s fighting every instinct not to fuck your throat.
When he finishes it’s with one low, barely audible grunt and a gloved hand tightening almost painfully in your hair before he forces himself to relax and strokes down your spine in silent appreciation.
He’ll vanish five minutes later, but the next time you see him there’s an extra magazine or a rare herb left on your bunk without a word; his version of a thank-you note.
Karl Heisenberg
Karl’s mouth runs even filthier than his factory machines; constant stream of “that’s it, buttercup,” “fuck, you’re gonna make me blow the whole grid,” while sparks literally dance across his metal knuckles (I'm sorry but I so imagine some parts of his body parts being metal cause... WHY NOT!?).
Loves when you let him set the pace; fists both hands in your hair, hips rolling slow and deep, growling praise through that shit-eating grin.
The man is loud; half the time he’s laughing in delight at how good you feel, the other half he’s snarling your name like a curse when you suck hard enough to make his toes curl in those boots.
When he comes it’s with a roar that probably rattles the windows, magnets clinking wildly around the room, then he yanks you up for a bruising kiss tasting of metal and smoke.
Immediately starts plotting how to get you on your knees again tomorrow; “round two in the workshop, sweetheart; I’ll even turn the smelter off for you.”
The Merchant
Surprisingly shy behind the hood at first; raspy voice softer than usual, asking “you sure about this, luv?” right up until your tongue touches him and he exhales a reverent “bloody hell.”
Keeps the coat on but lets you push it open; those gloved hands hover like he’s afraid to mess up your rhythm, then finally settle gently on your head with the lightest touch.
When you take him deep his accent gets thicker, words slurring into broken “so good, Christ, just like that,” until he’s reduced to needy whispers behind the mask.
Comes with a muffled groan and a full-body shudder, fingers tightening in your hair for only a second before he’s stroking it apologetically.
Pays you back in rare treasures later; a fully upgraded weapon, a stack of pesetas, and a quiet “anything you want, it’s yours” murmured like a secret.
Glenn Arias
Glenn expects perfection and you give it. He watches you with that cold, calculating gaze at first, but the moment your mouth is on him the mask slips; lips part, breath hitching behind perfect teeth.
One elegant hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek while he murmurs soft praises that gets rougher the closer he gets.
Loves when you trace the line of his suit trousers with your tongue before freeing him; the control freak in him unravels at the deliberate tease.
When he finishes it’s controlled but devastating; a sharp inhale, eyes squeezing shut for once, your name hissed like a prayer before he composes himself and smooths your hair back into place.
After, he straightens his tie, fixes your lips with his thumb, and kisses you slow and deep like he’s memorizing the taste; then quietly promises you the world if you’ll do that again tomorrow.
Summary: You can't , you tried but you just couldn't......
⚠️ Warnings⚠️: smut , p in v , MDNI
Word count: 1,304
Morning, the factory was unusually quiet. No metals hitting each other loudly , no machines or engines making irritating sounds. But theres one room, karls room , the room is filled with numerous noises
The bed is rocking and making squeaking noises , you and karl panting quietly but prominent.
Your moans and karls grunts made a harmony in which makes is sounds so good, but theres one problem.
You dont feel it, not his thrusting but your orgasm reaching out.
You feel bad , karl has been thrusting inside you for 30 mins and still you don't feel your climax building up , youre in the mood to do it but it feels like it suddenly disappeared...
Karl is almost done.... You know it cuz you can hear his breathing hitch more and his thrust gets faster. And that how you get the idea
You acted
You faked it
You started to make your breathing hitch like his ,You arched your back as if you were actually gonna finish. you pulled your head back as you moaned out his name. After he was done , he pulled out his cock right away , which is unusual since he always keep it inside for a few seconds after finishing to feel you more.
He lay beside you trying to serene his breaths and you stay still on your side of the bed still pretending to breath fast as if you actually did come.
"Darling" he called out
"Yes?" You said as karl turned into his side facing your side of the bed
"Is something wrong?"he asked
"What do you mean?"
"You faked it, why?"
"I dont know what your talking about" you insisted
"Of all the times we had sex, you think i wouldn't know if you actually came?" He said in a serious tone "Tell me what's wrong, buttercup, i wanna know "
With those sincere looks in his face , you spilled the truth
"Sorry , I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything it's just.... It kinda left my body... Maybe because im tired or maybe morning sex isnt for me " you said , trying to avoid eye contact with him
"I'm the one who should be sorry ,i shouldve known" he said as he press a kiss on your forehead
"Thanks for understanding , baby"
"I always do , buttercup"
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Note : Y'all this is my first time writing so bear with me , alright?🥲🥲🥲🥲
janainaart
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