Hi, my name is Rosah. I write a lot, mainly for Resident Evil. I'm 20, I like to read, write, bake, play games, do anything really. My pronouns are she/they, I'm a Gemini, I like cats. That's pretty much it.
Main blog: @rxsahgrce (this is a sideblog)
I don't post my work anywhere other than here. Please don't repost or translate my stories on any other platforms. Also don't feed my writing to AI. I really don't like AI 😭
Masterlist
What I won't write: non-con, romantised gore, incest (pseudo or not), zoophilia, underage characters, romantised abusive relationships. Or certain kinks, like piss, scat, ageplay, or emetophillia. I'm open to pretty much anything else, and will say if I decide I'm not ♡
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What I will write: Fics, drabbles, headcanons, and series. X Reader only (No character x character ships). Any adult Resident Evil character (male or female, romantic or platonic). Requests are open! ♡💌
Tags
#rosahgrace - all my posts
#rosah's headcanons - my headcanons for all characters
#rosah's fics - my fics for all characters
#rosah's drabbles - my drabbles for all characters
Hiii, can i request a clairexfem!reader one shot where the reader is a surgeon or doctor and comes home after a long exhausting day at work and claire is trying to distract her from work.
Thank you in advance if you‘re gonna do this 🥹🫶
Safe Harbour
Trigger/content warnings: medical emergency/hospital and burnout/exhaustion
Description: You come home from an exhausting day at work, and Claire comforts and distracts you
Notes: Fem-reader. Sorry this took so long, life was lifeing and insomnia was insomniaing. Hope you enjoy ♡ also the amount of research I had to do into medical stuff was wild 😭
Word count: 2.3k
The shift today had been particularly chaotic.
You had been riddled with sympathy all day because you had to tell a family bad news in a crowded hallway because all of the private rooms were full, you had a massive mountain of paperwork and medical records to get through, you had been constantly interrupted by the relentless buzzing of your pager for non-stop consults, and you realised you hadn't taken a single sip of water or sat down since your shift started.
Just as you sat down in the break room with some pasta salad, the overhead speaker crackled to life, calling your name for an immediate trauma arrival at the ambulance bay. You froze for a split second, looking down at the unopened pot your hand, before tossing it back onto the table and rushing out.
You hurried through the double doors, the sharp scent of antiseptic hanging heavily in the air.
You quickly slipped your arms into a gown. Because the hospital issued gowns were always a one size fits all, you had to aggressively gather the excess stiff, crinkly material at your back, tying the waist straps tight to keep the bulk from snagging on the equipment.
You stepped up to the head of the bed just as the doors hissed open, letting in a gust of freezing air and the siren of the arriving ambulance. You got information of what was wrong from a trauma nurse before the paramedics wheeled the gurney in with frantic urgency. For the next 45 minutes, the world outside of that trauma room ceased to exist.
Your exhaustion was entirely forgotten. "We need to get the fluids up," you said, eyes darting between the patient and the screen.
You continued managing the room, ensuring everything remained secure.
"Vitals are slipping," the respiratory therapist warned, eyes darting to you.
"I've got it," you said as you secured the breathing tube tape. You leaned over the bed, your fingers moving with delicate precision as you secured the necessary lines, your focus so full that the rest of the room blurred into background noise.
It was an exhausting battle against the clock, but slowly, the chaotic red lines on the monitor began to stabilise.
As the doors shut, the trauma bay suddenly felt incredibly quiet.
You stood in the centre of the messy room, head still buzzing dizzyingly from the rush of the past hour, before you sighed, peeling off your gloves and gown, tossing them into the trash and leaving to the sink to scrub your hands.
You looked in the mirror above the sink, and the reflection staring back at you was hollow-eyed. Dark circles shadowed the skin beneath your eyes, and your hair was worse, half of it falling out of the claw clip in damp, tangled waves around your face.
You turned off the hot water, grabbing a paper towel to dry off your hands with.
•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•
You started your car, rechecking the time. 8:37pm. You had left as soon as possible after your shift ended, although the stress was still heavy on your chest, like a slab of concrete weighing on your ribs.
The only thing you were looking forward to was getting back to your girlfriend, Claire. She had her own very stressful job, something you'd argue was more stressful than yours, although she'd always scold you for comparing.
Claire dealt with the chaos of everything with TerraSave. Bio-terror aftermaths, managing refugee crises, facing down corrupt giants, and carrying the psychological weight of entire decimated cities. Her desk at home was permanently cluttered with heavily redacted field reports and international aid manifests.
You had met her on a quiet Tuesday in the pediatric observation wing. A group of orphaned children had just been flown into the city after a viral outbreak abroad, and Claire was their designated caseworker.
You had walked into Room 4 expecting a chaotic medical assessment, but instead, you found Claire sitting flat on the floor, a terrified toddler curled tightly into her lap. She was exhausted, but she was softly humming a lullaby, rubbing the child's back with an infinite patience.
When you knelt down beside them to administer a basic health check, Claire had looked up at you. Her eyes were heavy with sorrow, yet they sparked with a fierce warmth that made your breath catch in your throat a little more every time you saw them.
Now, three years later, those same eyes were the only thing that could anchor you after a day like today. The absolute care and compassion you both had for other people to the point that you made it your full-time jobs drew you together.
The hum of the car engine was the only sound in the small space, amplifying the dull ache in your head. As you drove past the streetlights and buildings, the amber lights casted long shadows across the empty passenger seat. Your tongue felt dry like paper and your back ached with a dull, heavy tightness.
You pulled into the driveway of your shared space, your head throbbing with every slight movement from the lack of water. The cool-toned lights around the Hospital had been burning in your eyes all day and you hadn't had much to eat, other than some oatmeal at 7:30am before you left, a small, interrupted, lunch, and a granola bar.
You parked in the driveway before just sitting there for about 5 minutes, not a singular thought passing through you before you sighed, getting out of the car and into the cold, dark air.
Your exhaustion felt like it was getting the better of you as you fumbled with your keys, your fingers stiff like ice. Once you finally unlocked and opened the door, the scent of home filled your senses, followed by the warmth of the house, melting away a fraction of your tension.
"In here," you heard Claire's familiar voice say, and as you walked into the living room, she was sitting on the couch, mindlessly flicking through some different files and papers.
Once her blue eyes landed on you, they instantly softened as she stared at your exhausted frame.
She quietly set the thick stack of files onto the coffee table, completely clearing her lap of the heavy reports.
She slid off her reading glasses, letting them rest on the arm of the couch.
"Hey," she said softly, her voice a gentle contrast to the harsh, clinical noises that had been ringing in your ears all day. "Come here."
You immediately walked over to the couch, sitting next to her. Her fingers immediately found the claw clip you had since cleaned up a little and released it, pulling you closer until your head was rested warm and heavy against her shoulder.
"Rough day?" She murmured, her voice vibrating soothingly against your temple. You nodded.
She didn't press for details. Instead, she reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a bottle of water she had kept there, pressing it into your palm. It was still cold. She must have gotten it from the fridge just before you got back.
"Drink," She urged softly, her thumb rubbing small, comforting circles against your shoulder.
As the icy liquid rushed down your throat, it felt less like drinking and more like waking up. A quiet, cool relief spread through your chest. As you drank, her fingers threaded through the knots in your hair, gently untangling each one.
Without a word, she reached down to unlace your stiff work shoes once you set the bottle down, slipping them off your feet one by one.
As the second shoe dropped onto the floor with a soft thud, the remaining tension coiled tight in your neck seemed to unravel all at once. You let out a long, ragged breath, resting your forehead against the crook of Claire’s neck. The scent of her, something spicy but wrapped in a rich, velvety warmth, deeply smooth and comforting, instantly began to overcome the lingering scents of the sterile Hospital.
"Do you want something? Dinner?" She asked, her voice soft and steady against your ear. "I can run you a bath and make you dinner," She suggested, and you nodded.
Claire leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head before gently uncoiling herself from the couch. "Alright. Don't move a muscle. I'll be right back."
You listened to the soft rhythm of her socks against the hardwood as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. A moment later, the muted rumble of running water filled the quiet house.
Once she got back, she didn't say a word. She just took some of your fresh laundry from a folded pile, just some sweatpants and a t-shirt, and silently took them to the bathroom so you could immediately put them on once you got out, before leaving again to keep an eye on the water.
After a few minutes, Claire stepped back into the living room, wiping her damp hands on her jeans.
"All set," she said softly, offering her hand to help you up. "The water is hot, and I dumped in some of that lavender soak you like. Go lose yourself in there for a bit."
The harsh glare of the hospital was replaced by the warm lighting around your house. The air was thick, heavy with steam and the soothing scent of lavender. On the closed toilet lid, Claire had neatly stacked your oversized grey t-shirt and favourite sweatpants, topped with a fresh pair of thick socks.
Stepping into the tub, the heat hit your skin with a sharp prickle before melting into a deep, enveloping warmth. You sank down until the water reached your chin, closing your eyes as the heat began to aggressively undo the tight knots coiled in your shoulders and lower back. For the first time all day, your mind went completely quiet. No pagers. No alarms. No crowded hallways. Just the rhythmic sound of water lapping against the porcelain.
For you, showers were for cleaning and baths were for relaxing, so you typically wouldn't do anything but relax in a bath and quickly rinse off after, but tonight, your exhaustion got the better of you, and you grabbed the shampoo, washing the day away from your tension-knotted scalp.
By the time the water began to turn lukewarm, your skin was flushed and your mind felt blissfully foggy.
You reluctantly climbed out, drying off and pulling on the soft fabric of your clothes. The thick socks felt like a luxury against your tired feet.
Once you opened the bathroom door, the scent of dinner filled your senses. She had made a quick baked potato, and was currently adding the toppings, which included butter, shredded cheese, crumbled bacon, and some different greens.
You pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, your limbs feeling heavy and loose from the hot water. As soon as you sat, Claire placed the steaming plate in front of you.
You began eating your dinner, the hot bites pure comfort. You ate in a quiet, deeply peaceful silence. Claire was eating hers on the other side of the table, no questions or talk of the chaotic trauma room or the endless paperwork.
As you finished the last few bites, Claire reached over and gently took your empty plate, moving it to the sink. When she returned, she didn't say a word. She simply reached out, took your hand, and pulled you up from the chair.
"Come on," she whispered, her thumb tracing the back of your knuckles. "Let's get you to bed."
She led you up to the bedroom. It was dark, illuminated only by the faint, warm amber glow spilling in from the hallway light.
Claire had already gone ahead at some point to turn down the heavy duvet, exposing the sheets underneath.
You slid beneath the blankets, your body instantly sinking deep into the mattress.
A moment later, the mattress shifted gently as Claire climbed in right behind you.
For a few quiet moments, you just lay there, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest steady your own breathing.
Slowly, you shifted in her hold, turning around under the covers to face her.
Claire’s blue eyes softened in the dim amber light, searching your face. "Can't sleep?" she whispered, her hand rising to gently cup your cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray strand of damp hair.
Instead of answering, you leaned into her touch, tilted your chin up, and pressed your lips to hers.
The kiss started out soft, but as Claire’s hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, the energy shifted.
She pulled you closer, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate heat that completely consumed your thoughts.
Your hands found their way under her shirt, fingers pressing flat against the warm, smooth skin of her lower back, anchoring her to you.
Claire let out a soft, low growl against your mouth, a sound that sent a sudden jolt of electricity straight to your core. Her lips moved against yours, tasting you deeply as she shifted her weight, pinning you down into the mattress.
She eventually pulled back, her forehead coming to rest gently against yours. Her thumb remained on your cheek, tracing the line of your cheekbone.
She reached down to pull the thick, heavy duvet up over both of your shoulders. Her fingers resumed their soothing rhythm, threading through your damp hair and massaging your scalp with slow strokes that made your eyelids feel heavy.
"Go to sleep," Claire whispered into your hair, resting her chin on top of your head and holding you against her. "I've got you."
The steady sound of her heartbeat below you instantly stalled your racing thoughts. For the first time all day, your body felt completely weightless. You buried closer into her warmth, let your eyelids close, and allowed the gentle rhythm of her breathing to lull you straight into a deep sleep.
A/N: This took me ages 😭😭 I've been so busy. Hope you enjoyed ♡
what if you made a fic about Carlos and reader where they’re friends who like eachother but don’t say anything and end up pulling a scene from the song ‘beach boy’ where it’s goes “and she’s on top of me and it is hot/ and then her dad walks in oh shit her dad walks in” but instead of it being their dad it’s like Chris or something 😭 idk I’ve had this idea in my head but can’t formulate it properly
Interruption
Trigger/content warnings: Making out and being interrupted 😭 that's it
Description: You and Carlos finally break the line between being friends, but Chris, using your office to finish his reports, ends up walking in on you both.
Notes: Gender-neutral reader. Hope you enjoy! ♡ I love this idea
Word count: 2.4k
It was a universally acknowledged truth within your entire friend group that you and Carlos were entirely too close to be friends.
You shared meals, made coffee runs for eachother, and Carlos practically lived on your couch during off days.
He was tactile by nature, always a warm hand resting on the small of your back to guide you through a crowded hallway, or a playful arm slung over your shoulders while he told some loud, animated story. To everyone else, it looked like a very close friendship.
To you, it was a daily exercise in torturous self-control.
You had liked Carlos for months. It was impossible not to. He was a solid, grounding rock in a world that was constantly on fire, matching his lethal skills with a genuine, infectious warmth that felt like home.
But you had never said a single word. He was your best friend, your anchor, and the risk of shifting the perfect balance of your dynamic felt entirely too high.
"Hey, you're staring," Carlos’s deep, rumbling voice broke through your thoughts, a familiar, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
You blinked, realising you had been watching him clean his rifle on the kitchen table for the past 5 minutes. You had spaced out watching the afternoon sun catch the wild strands of his hair and the muscles in his biceps rippling every time he went to do something else.
"I wasn't staring," you lied smoothly. "I was watching the mess you're making on my table. You shouldn't even be bringing those things in my house."
He let out a small, breathy chuckle, setting the rifle parts down as he leaned against the table on his elbows, looking at you with an intensity that made your stomach do a sudden flip.
"Sure you were," he murmured, his tone dropping into that softer, lower register he only ever used when the two of you were completely alone. "You know, if you wanted my attention, you could just ask for it. You don't have to make up excuses about the furniture."
There it was. That brief, electric spark that always hung in the air between you, heavy and thick with everything neither of you had the courage to say out loud. Carlos’s gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before flickering back up to your eyes.
You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to push past the invisible line you had both been dancing around for months.
Before the words could leave your mouth, a knock sounded on your door, making you jump out of the trance you were in.
Carlos pushed his attention back to cleaning as you got up. You opened the door to reveal Chris.
"Hey," Chris said, his deep, gravelly voice instantly shattering the last remnants of the electric air in the kitchen. "Sorry to drop in out of nowhere. I was wrapping up some field evaluations at the briefing center down the street, and my office computer went dark before I could file the logs."
He hoisted the heavy folder slightly, offering you a brief, apologetic nod. "Mind if I use your desk for an hour to finish up these mission reports?"
You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. "Of course."
He walked in and saw Carlos at the table, offering him a brief nod.
He had met Carlos through Jill a little while after she had returned from Raccoon City. Jill was the same reason you had met both Carlos and Chris.
"The office upstairs is already open. If you need anything, just tell me." You said, watching him nod as he turned towards the stairs.
•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•
The movie on the TV had long since blurred into background noise for you. Carlos was leaning back against the armrest of the couch, his long legs stretched out across the cushions. You were curled up sideways against his side, half-buried under a plush throw blanket.
His large, calloused hand had migrated from your shoulder to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against the sensitive skin at your hairline.
Every touch felt magnified. The scent of his cologne, something with lavender and salt, seemed to fill your entire senses.
"You're quiet," Carlos murmured, his deep voice a low rumble against your shoulder. He shifted slightly, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair, gently tugging so you were forced to tilt your head back to look at him. "Where'd you go?"
"Just thinking," You whispered. The house was so quiet that even your whisper felt loud.
"About what?" Carlos asked softly.
Your heart hammered against your ribs, a sudden rush of adrenaline overtaking you. The months of waiting, of hiding every look and suppressing every urge, suddenly felt unbearable.
Slowly, you shifted. You pushed the blanket aside and slid your leg over his lap, moving until you were straddling his thighs. You sat directly on top of him, your knees framing his hips, your weight settling into his lap.
Carlos’s breath hitched sharply. His hand froze in your hair.
You didn't back down. You leaned forward, placing your palms flat against his broad chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thud of his own heart mirroring yours. The casual boundaries of your friendship didn't just slip, they vanished entirely.
"About this," you confessed, your voice barely a breath.
Carlos stared up at you, his dark eyes darkening with an intensity that made your stomach flip. He didn't speak. Instead, his large hands moved down to your waist, his grip firm, his fingers digging gently into your hips as if to anchor you to him, ensuring you wouldn't pull away.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted you to do that," Carlos growled softly.
He didn't wait. Carlos pulled you down at the exact same moment he leaned up, his lips crashing against yours.
The kiss was heavy, deep, and slow at first, before fracturing into a desperate, breathless urgency. You let out a soft, shaky sigh into his mouth, your hands immediately sliding up his chest to tangle into the wild strands of his hair, pulling him closer. Carlos groaned, a low, primal sound in the back of his throat that vibrated against your lips.
His hands slid from your waist, up the expanse of your back, pulling you flush against him until there was absolutely no space left between your bodies. He tasted like coffee and mint, his lips parting yours with a possessive hunger that made your head spin.
You shifted slightly on his lap, completely consumed by the heat of his skin, the slide of his tongue, and the overwhelming relief of finally being held by him.
Carlos’s thumb traced the curve of your jaw, tilting your head to angle the kiss deeper, pouring months of unspoken frustration and longing into the collision of your mouths. You were completely lost in him, the rest of the world entirely fading away.
Your hand slid under his shirt, feeling the rock solid muscles and the soft drag of hair. He let out a small grunt against your lips, one of the only signs he was losing control.
The heat in the room spiked, burning away the last remnants of caution. Carlos’s hands left your waist, sliding up your ribs to cup your face, his long fingers tangling in your hair to anchor you completely. He devoured your mouth, his kisses turning deeper and heavier.
You leaned into him. The rough texture of his calloused thumbs tracing your cheekbones contrasted sharply with the soft, desperate pace of his lips. Every breath you took belonged to him, every gasp was caught and swallowed by his mouth.
He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, just long enough to tilt your chin up before his mouth descended onto your neck. He trailed a path of burning, wet kisses down the column of your throat, finding the exact pulse point where your heart was hammering frantically. He pressed his lips there, inhaling sharply, tasting the salt of your skin.
"You're perfect," he whispered roughly against your skin, his voice pure gravel that made your thighs tighten around his hips. "So damn perfect."
A breathless, broken sigh escaped you as Carlos bit gently at the junction where your neck met your shoulder, soothing it immediately with a swipe of his tongue.
The sensation sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. Your head fell back against the cushions of the couch, your hands sliding down his chest to bunch into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to erase even the atom of space left between you.
Your hands pushed his shirt up his torso, and his leg wedged between your legs, causing you to grind against his thigh, pleasure spiking up your core.
The sudden, sharp spike of pleasure caught in the back of your throat, turning into a muffled gasp that Carlos instantly caught with his mouth. He drank the sound in, his own breathing completely fractured.
The heat radiating off his skin was staggering. Your hands mapped the heavy lines of his chest, the hard ridges of his abs, and the familiar, rugged scars that told the story of his life.
Carlos groaned, a raw, needy sound that rumbled deep in his chest. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, lifting you slightly just to press you back down hard against his solid thigh.
The friction was agonisingly perfect. You shifted your weight instinctively, grinding down against the firm muscle of his leg again. A blinding wave of heat rushed straight down you, making your toes curl and your fingers dig hard into the skin of his shoulders.
"Ah... Carlos," you breathed against his lips.
Carlos let out a ragged, choked breath, his eyes opening just enough for you to see the dark, unbridled hunger consuming him. He didn't care about being gentle anymore.
He anchored one massive hand at the base of your spine, arching your body flush against his chest, while his other hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh. He hooked your leg higher, locking you securely against his hip to deepen the contact.
Neither of you heard the heavy creak of the upstairs office door or the slow, measured thud of boots descending the wooden staircase.
It wasn't until the living room door clicked open that both of you immediately paused.
"I finished the logs, so—" Chris paused as he looked up, seeing the predicament you were in.
The silence that followed was deafening. You were still frozen in Carlos’s lap, your hands awkwardly hovering near his chest.
Carlos’s body turned to stone beneath you. He stared toward the stairs with wide, unblinking eyes, completely caught off guard.
"Chris," Carlos finally choked out. His deep voice cracked horribly on the first syllable. He cleared his throat quickly, trying to act casual while entirely pinned to the sofa. "Hey, man. You, uh... you finished up?"
He didn't answer immediately, holding his folder tightly under one arm. He looked at you. He looked at Carlos.
"Are you kidding me?" Chris muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He looked completely exhausted, as if this was up there with dealing with bioweapons.
He dropped his hand from his face, his sharp eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling, pointedly refusing to look anywhere near the couch now that he'd processed the situation. "I came down to tell you the logs are filed and I'm heading out. I didn't realise I needed to clear the room first."
Your face burned with a heat so intense you were sure you were going to combust.
You scrambled backward off Carlos’s lap, your knees tangling horribly in the plush throw blanket before you finally managed to drop onto the opposite cushion, desperately pulling the fabric over yourself to hide your wrinkled clothes.
Chris took a step toward the front door, shaking his head with a look of profound, universal weariness.
"Chris, it's not—" you stammered, your voice squeaking slightly in pure humiliation.
"It looks exactly like what it is," Chris muttered, his hand resting on the doorknob. He paused, a sudden, fleeting smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before his expression flattened again. "Jill owes me twenty bucks."
Your jaw dropped. "You guys have a bet on us?"
"Had," Chris corrected, turning the handle.
Chris gave you both one last lingering look of disbelief, shook his head, and walked out the front door.
"Unbelievable," you heard him mutter under his breath just before the door clicked shut behind him.
The room was bloated with silence before a low, vibrating rumble started deep in Carlos’s chest.
You peeked up through your messy hair, your eyes narrowed. Carlos was staring at the closed front door, his mouth twitching. A second later, a breathless, rough chuckle escaped him.
"Shut up!" you hissed, swatting his shoulder. "It is not funny! Chris just saw me straddling you like a horse!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Carlos laughed, his dark eyes crinkling with absolute amusement as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
"I can never be around him again after this. That was horrible." You groaned. "We were meant to go somewhere for Jill's birthday next week. How are we meant to just sit there now? That was absolutely horrible—"
"Hey," he murmured, his deep voice carrying a sudden weight that anchored your racing thoughts. "Look at me."
You blinked, your face burning. "You really don't care, do you?"
He shook his head. "I don't think it's a big deal. And it won't change anything between any of us."
"You think a little awkwardness with Chris is going to make me back down now?" Carlos asked, a small tender smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No way. I've waited too long for this."
The lingering panic was evaporating, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief.
"Okay," you whispered, the word a soft breath against his skin.
"Now," Carlos growled softly, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. "No more thinking about next week. Just focus on right now."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! ♡ this was really fun to write
mdni. Hand job, m recieving oral, overstim, missionary position
I feel like re2 Leon would be so vocal in bed.
He's not extremely experienced, smooth, or filtered at this point in his life. Compared to his future versions, this version is the most emotionally available and expressive. He's definitely not quiet when it comes to intimacy.
When you're jerking him off, he lets out deep, shaky grunts and whimpers every time you tighten your grip or brush a thumb over his tip.
His knuckles turn white from gripping the bedsheets, and his hips instinctively roll up into your palm. If you go too fast, a loud, breathy "Wait, wait—" slips out before he can stop himself.
When he comes, he completely loses physical coordination. He spills into your hand in thick, heavy bursts, his chest heaving as he lets out loud, shuddering trembles of air.
If you keep stroking him rapidly right after he climaxes, or focus entirely on his sensitive areas without letting up, his volume turns high-pitched and frantic. You get loud, pathetic begs and broken, breathless hitches.
When you suck him off, Leon completely loses his train of thought the second he feels the warmth of your mouth.
He lets out a mix of high-pitched gasps and needy, verbal begging. He will loudly stammer your name, followed by broken phrases like, "Oh god, right there," completely unable to filter his voice.
Keeping him trapped in your mouth post-climax, or using heavy, rhythmic suction on his tip, completely shatters his nervous system. He completely loses the ability to form words. You are met with loud, wet whimpers, and sharp groans that sound almost painful from the sheer intensity.
His favourite position would probably be missionary with your legs over his shoulders. He loves the eye contact and intimacy of the position while pleasing you. This is his loudest position because he can see exactly what he is doing to you, which completely breaks his composure, and it's marked by loud, wet slaps and Leon’s ragged, open mouthed panting.
He has no filter, so he will literally narrate how you feel to him. He will groan out things like, "You’re so tight, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard," or "Listen to how wet you are, you hear that?" completely unbothered by how filthy it sounds.
When you are the one taking control, his vocabulary devolves into desperate, single word pleas. He will whine, "Please," "More," or "Don't stop, don't stop, fuck" If you tease him, the "please" turns into a broken, breathless hitch that sounds almost like a sob.
The exact second he comes, all words stop. He lets out a raw, unhinged, animalistic grunt, a deep, loud "fuck" that echoes in the room. It sounds less like pleasure and more like a physical release.
Right after the main groan, as he’s pulsing inside you, his voice turns incredibly pathetic. He lets out a series of tiny, wet, shuddering whimpers with every pulse, completely undone and hyperventilating against your skin.
Trigger/content warnings: mentions of PTSD, sexual content (mdni)
Description: My personal headcanons of what it would be like dating Claire Redfield
Notes: gender-neutral reader. Hope you enjoy ♡
First Date
You two finally go on your first date together
● She's very natural and down-to-earth. She'd probably suggest just a local diner. She loves simplicity and comfort, especially with what she has to deal with in her day-to-day life.
● She'd want to look nice for you, but still dress casual. She'd wear wear her usual red leather biker jacket over a simple black or grey tank top and a pair of well fitted denim jeans.
● She always smells distinctly spicy and warm. Maybe black pepper, warm cinnamon, dark vanilla, and a hint of amber.
● She’d be an amazing listener. She would probably want to hear all about your normal, everyday life just to escape from her stressful work for a while.
● Even on a relaxed date, she'd subtly keep an eye on the exits of the diner. It's just a habit for her at this point, but she’d keep it subtle so you don't worry.
● She would either split the bill or pay completely herself. If she reached for her wallet the second the check hits the table, and you tried to argue, she’d probably give you a playful smile and say something like, "Next one's on you, deal?"
Everyday life
Your everyday life together
● She really treasures the quiet, mundane moments. Doing the dishes together, grocery shopping, or just sitting on the couch while you both read or scroll through your phones are the moments she holds closest to her heart.
● Her closet is basically your closet. She absolutely melts seeing you walk around the house wearing one of her shirts, hoodies, or even an old college t-shirt. She’ll playfully tease you about stealing her clothes, but she secretly loves it.
● She isn't big about overly dramatic PDA, but at home, she loves casual affection. She'll rest her head against your shoulder when you're watching a movie, let you rest on her chest when you're tired, or hug you from behind when you're cooking.
● The first time you meet Chris, he might try to borderline interrogate you to protect his little sister. Claire will immediately shut it down, telling him to relax. Once he sees how happy you make her, he eventually softens up.
● Because her work with TerraSave is so emotionally and physically demanding, your shared space is her favourite place to be. She loves keeping the home bright, cosy, and filled with plants or soft lighting, anything that feels like different world from her chaotic job.
● Her love language is a mix of acts of service and quality time. She loves spending time with you and cherishes her casual time with you, and she also loves doing small things for you. She loves to make you your favourite things, like your favourite meal or drink, and, if she can, she'll fix things for you.
Mornings and nights
Waking up and going to sleep with her
● She's used to waking up early because of her busy lifestyle, but if she has time, she likes to linger in bed and watch you sleep and brush stray hairs away from your eyes before you wake up.
● When she gets up, you're usually asleep because she wakes up early. She'll go downstairs and brew some tea or coffee, making sure it's ready for you when you get up.
● She prefers quiet, slow mornings. Sitting together at the kitchen table, sharing a simple breakfast while the sun comes up, and talking softly about your plans for the day is her favorite way to recharge before diving into her heavy workload.
● Before actually getting into bed in the evening, she has a subconscious habit of doing a quick safety check, like making sure the front door is locked and the windows are secure. It's just an automatic reflex for her
● In bed, she loves to cuddle. She will pull you close, resting her chin on your head or wrapping an arm securely around your waist. Hearing your steady breathing helps quiet her mind, allowing her to finally drift off into a peaceful, deep sleep, knowing she is safe in your arms.
Bad days
Both of your bad days
● When she has bad days, they're usually a result of her heavy memories associated with Raccoon City and the PTSD it caused. On these days, she tends to get unusually quiet and withdrawn, carrying a heavy weight on her shoulders that she tries to hide so she doesn't worry you.
● She doesn’t always want to talk about what's bothering her right away, and she appreciates that you don't force her to. Instead, the best way to help her through it is simply being a steady, grounding presence, bringing her a warm cup of tea, wrapping a blanket around her, and just sitting quietly next to her on the couch.
● If you’re the one having a rough day, Claire immediately switches into her fiercely protective and nurturing mode. The moment she notices a shift in your mood, she drops whatever she's doing to focus entirely on you, making sure you feel completely safe and cared for.
● She is an incredible listener and creates a completely judgement free zone for you. Whether you need to vent angrily about a stressful day, cry it out, or just sit in frustrated silence, she will stay right by your side through all of it.
Life when she's away
Your life when she isn't there
● Before she leaves, she loves to leave little surprises for you to find while she's gone. You might find a sweet sticky note hidden in your favorite book, your favorite snacks stocked up in the pantry, or one of her softest hoodies left specifically on your side of the bed.
● The house always feels incredibly quiet without her. To help cope with her absence, you find yourself taking care of her thriving house plants, keeping up with the routines you built together, and occasionally wearing her clothes just to feel closer to her.
● She worries about leaving you alone just as much as you worry about her. To give both of you peace of mind, she’ll usually ask a trusted friend or Chris to check in on you occasionally or help out if you need anything around the house while she's gone.
● The first 24 hours after she returns are strictly dedicated to the two of you. She completely turns off her work phone, unties her hair, and spends the entire day ordering comfort food and clinging to you on the couch, letting the stress of the outside world entirely melt away.
Intimacy (NSFW)
What it would be like being intimate with her
● Claire is used to taking charge in high-stress situations, so taking the lead in the bedroom comes easily to her. Her dominance is never aggressive or selfish, it's fiercely protective, intentional, and entirely focused on your pleasure.
● Because she is highly athletic and strong, she enjoys using her body weight to pin you down gently or straddling your lap to keep you completely trapped beneath her. She loves knowing she has your full, undivided attention.
●While she loves leading, she spends her entire life being the strong one for everyone else. If you flip her onto her back, pin her wrists, or firmly tell her what to do, her tough exterior completely shatters. She will entirely let you take care of her.
● She isn't a screamer, but she is far from quiet. She lets out deep, throat-y moans and breathless gasps that she tries to muffle against your shoulder or the crook of your neck if she feels like she's losing control.
● She loves a mix of lazy morning sex and intense evening sex. She doesn't choose between them. She loves intense evenings when she's had a particularly hard day. It's explosive, deeply passionate, and physically demanding. She uses the raw, exhausting friction of the evening to completely drown out the noise in her head. In these moments, she is very dominant, pinning you down and using her body to ground herself until she is too physically spent to think about the outside world.
● Lazy morning sex is her absolute favourite for bonding. When she has a rare day off, she likes to use the moment in the morning to say everything she truly feels and pay all of her attention to you, something that isn't guaranteed in her everyday life. She loves to take her time, lazily trailing her fingers over your skin, shifting her weight over you with slow, deliberate movements. There is no rush, she just wants to press her forehead against yours, listen to the quiet house, and melt into the mundane comfort of having you all to herself.
● She loves to talk through it. If she’s the one pleasing you, she’ll frequently pause to press warm kisses to your inner thighs and whisper low, breathless praises like, "You taste so good for me," or "Look at how much you're shaking, sweetheart."
● She loves when you pull her hair when she's giving you head. She usually has her hair up in a ponytail, so having it down and letting you touch it, let alone pull it, is very vulnerable for her.
● She doesn't use degrading or overly harsh language. Instead, she uses a low, raspy bedroom voice to whisper sweet, possessive praises directly into your ear, like: "You look so divine like this," or "Look at me, sweetheart. Just focus on me."
● The moment the intensity clears, her caretaking instincts immediately take over. She will insist that you stay put while she cleans up and brings you a fresh glass of water, before pulling you into a heavy, skin-to-skin hold where she buries her face in your neck, listening to your heartbeat slow down until her own hyper vigilant mind finally quiets enough for her to drift off to sleep.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed ♡ I've been planning to write this for a while
hello!! I’m not to sure if your request are still open last time I checked they were, i absolutely love the way you write Carlos it’s amazing! That being said is it possible to get some comfort with him like maybe reader going though a really rough time mentally and they don’t really tell him until he notices them acting out doing things they typically don’t do like going out all the time now or something?? if not no worries at all I love your work keep going!!
Outrunning
Trigger/content warnings: alcohol/heavy drinking, hangover, self deprecating thoughts, intense anxiety, emotional burnout (basically a mental health crash)
Description: You keep on doing different things, like going out often, to numb your brain, and you keep it from Carlos because you don't want to affect him until you get drunk and tell him in your hangover.
Notes: gender-neutral reader. I love this idea so much 😭 thank you for the ask, it was really nice to write ♡
For the past week, you were barely home, jumping from one social gathering to the next, filling every empty hour with noise and distraction because the alternative, sitting alone with the heavy, suffocating fog in your mind, felt entirely terrifying.
It started small. A Monday out with coworkers, a Tuesday dinner with friends you hadn't spoken to in months, followed by a Wednesday concert. There was event after event until you finally made it to the bar on Saturday, and crashed the night after, trapped in your own regretful thoughts.
You lay awake at 4am. It was officially Sunday morning, and you hadn't gotten a single blink of sleep. Carlos knew you were going out tonight. When you got home at 1, he was awake. He always stayed awake when you were out, his brain wanting to let you have fun, but still constantly jumping to worst case scenarios.
The second you got back, all his tension left, and he was able to sleep peacefully. Unlike you.
You were buried against his bare chest, his large arms wrapped tightly around you as he slept, chest rising and falling with smooth, steady breaths.
But your own mind was a chaotic, punishing stadium.
The alcohol was wearing off, leaving behind that familiar, cold spike of midnight anxiety.
Your heart hammered a fast, shallow rhythm against your ribs, entirely out of sync with Carlos’s calm, steady rhythm. The regret came first, looping in dizzying circles.
'Why did I go out?' 'Did I laugh too loud at that joke?'
Every interaction felt distorted, amplified by the crash of the tequila shots, vodka crans, and whatever else you drank. You had spent money you shouldn't have, drank more than you wanted to, and for what?
To buy yourself four hours of numbness. And now, it had almost completely worn off.
Worse than the interactions was the heavy, uncomfortable claustrophobia in your mind that had been waiting for you all week. It felt like a physical weight pressing down on your chest, making it hard to draw a full breath. The distraction had failed. You had run yourself into the ground, but the emptiness had still caught up to you in the dark.
You looked up at the shadow of Carlos’s jawline in the dim room. A wave of intense guilt washed over you. He was so grounded, so steady. He had stayed up just to make sure you made it home, and here you were, safe in his arms, yet feeling entirely hollow.
You felt like a fraud. You wanted to wake him up just to have him anchor you, but the thought of trying to explain the wordless, aching void in your head felt impossible. You didn't want to ruin his peace with your chaos. So you just lay there, trapped in the silence, staring at the wall and waiting for the sun to rise.
The only thing you could do was turn the TV on to give your mind a distraction away from the self deprecation and hollowing ache, and shut your eyes until sleep finally washed over you, no matter how short it would be.
•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•
Sunday morning arrived with an unforgiving, blinding brightness that filtered through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes shut, your head pulsating with a heavy pain. Your back was turned to Carlos, meaning the light shining through the blinds was hitting your face directly.
You had managed maybe two hours of shallow, sweat-soaked sleep before your eyes snapped open again, your body feeling entirely hollowed out and aching from the hangover.
Before the heavy, punishing thoughts could fully rush back into your mind, a soft, repetitive sensation at the top of your head pulled your focus.
A large hand was buried in your hair, long fingers gently threading through the strands, sweeping them away from your forehead in a slow, rhythmic motion. The touch was incredibly quiet, almost reverent, as if he was trying to soothe your restless mind while you slept.
You didn't move, keeping your breathing shallow just to stretch out the moment. But Carlos was too perceptive. The second your posture shifted slightly, the gentle stroking paused, his fingers resting warmly against your scalp.
"Good morning," he murmured, voice raspier than usual.
You didn't answer right away, the pounding headache getting worse with every slight movement.
You slowly roll over, wincing as the movement sends a sharp, rhythmic thumping behind your eyes.
You forced a weak smile, trying to swallow the rough dryness down your throat before muttering, "Good morning. I think I overdid it last night." You were trying to play it off as a typical hangover. You knew he probably wouldn't buy it.
He didn't say a word at first. He continued looking down at you, his eyes heavy with sleep but still entirely focused, tracking the tight strain around your eyes.
Slowly, he shifted his weight until he was fully facing you, and his thumb moved up to your cheekbone, tracing a comforting circle over the skin.
"You overdid the whole week," Carlos murmured, his croaky morning voice as soft as it could be, devoid of any judgement. "I've been watching you since Monday. You haven't stopped. You don't have to play it off. Talk to me."
The absolute safety of his voice made your walls crumble, the heavy weight in your head that you had spent days running from suddenly flooding the small space between you.
A hot prickle of tears stung the backs of your eyes, mixing with the pounding pressure behind your forehead.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, the words small and broken against the quiet room. You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him as the guilt flared up again. "I didn't want to ruin your morning with this. I just... I feel so empty, Carlos. It's like this giant void in my head, and i don't know what's causing it yet, but it's so consuming."
"I kept going out because I was terrified of sitting alone with it," you confessed, the truth finally spilling out into the open. "If I'm not doing something or there's no noise in the room, this feeling and these thoughts just come over me, and it's so exhausting. It's like it's feeding off of me."
You braced yourself, half-expecting him to be frustrated by your recklessness or exhausted by your emotional mess.
Instead, Carlos didn't hesitate. He pulled you flush against him, wrapping his large, heavy arms around your trembling shoulders and tucking your head securely beneath his chin.
"Hey," he said, his voice deep and grounding against your hair. "Look at me."
You slowly blinked your eyes open, pulling back to look at him.
"You never have to outrun your own mind just to protect my peace." Carlos said firmly, his eyes searching yours with the warmth that you desperately needed. "If you're feeling this trapped, all I need is for you to talk to me, okay? We can figure something out."
You let out a breath. There was something immensely relieving about getting it off your chest, even though the feeling persisted.
"It's so hard to explain. I feel trapped and empty at the same time." You muttered, every defense you had put up to protect him more than yourself finally shattering.
He nodded. "Listen. I'm going to go and get you some water and painkillers, and then, later today, when you're feeling a little better, we're going to do something. Only something small." He said, fingers tracing small circles on your arm.
"We can watch a movie together or play a little board game. Something to distract you without dragging you out of the house or exhausting you," He continued. "And if you want to tell me something, say it. Don't keep it bottled up, because it will get worse and worse, and lead to things like last night."
You nodded, the simple movement sending a dull ache through your temples, but the heavy weight on your chest felt just a fraction lighter.
"Okay," you whispered. "I promise."
Carlos pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head before slowly loosening his grip. "Good. Now stay put while I go play nurse. Don't move. I’ll be right back."
You watched through half-lidded eyes as his large frame crossed the room. With a quiet efficiency, he adjusted the blinds, shutting out the unforgiving Sunday sun and plunging the bedroom into a safe, dark cocoon. The relief behind your eyes was instant.
You listened to the comforting, familiar sounds of the water and the soft rattle of medicine from the bathroom.
When he slid back into bed, he handed you a cold glass of water and two pills, waiting patiently as you took a few quiet sips. Once the glass was set aside, he pulled you right back into his chest, his large arms wrapping securely around you.
The void in your mind hadn't vanished. The empty ache was still there, but as you closed your eyes and let your breathing sync up with Carlos’s steady, unbothered rhythm, the silence didn't feel terrifying anymore. For the first time all week, you were finally safe enough to fall asleep.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed ♡ I wrote this quite quickly, sorry if it seems a little rushed 😭 I'm so busy atm
Trigger/content warnings: smut (mdni), Carlos eats you out (he's an eater idc what anyone says), overstim, hair pulling, unprotected sex
Description: Carlos is filing a mission report, talking over the phone, and you're doing nothing but annoying him.
Notes: Fluff and smut. AFAB reader, but no specific pronouns are used. Hope you enjoy ♡
Word count: 4.9k
You walked into the living room. Carlos was buried under a small mountain of paperwork on the couch, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear.
He looked like a completely different person when he was in paperwork mode. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by his focused gaze scanning the reports scattered across the coffee table.
He definitely preferred the physical part of his job much more, but the boring, lengthy reports were still a very real part of it.
You moved through the room, sinking onto the couch a few feet away. His eyes flickered to you for a few seconds, and you could see the clear, sharp and knowing, "don't do anything stupid," message. He got it across without him even having to say it.
You just offered him a small, private smile, and stretched out a leg to rest on the part of his lap with no paper, turning to the TV that had the audio turned down.
Without breaking eye contact with the document in his hand, Carlos’s palm settled over your calf. His thumb began a slow, soft stroke against your skin. He was a man of habit, and you were his favourite one. He didn't mind you being here. But he knew what you were like. The wary tension in his shoulders told you that he knew you were planning something.
You stayed mindlessly watching the movie, but the flickering screen wasn't holding your attention. You found yourself listening to the low hum of his voice as he spoke, the small, occasional sounds of agreement he’d grunt into the receiver, and the constant scratch of his pen against the reports.
Even the crisp rustle of paper as he moved sheets around felt louder and more interesting than the TV. But, you still felt yourself becoming bored, your legs becoming more and more restless.
When you started subtly bouncing your foot on his thigh to give yourself something to do, his hand came down, holding it still. You let out a sigh that was more of a frustrated huff, the sound cutting through the quietness of his work. His eyes flickered to you for a split second before returning to the page.
You knew you could just go do something else, and that honestly seemed like what he wanted, but you weren't going to.
If you couldn't use your legs, you were going to use your hands. You moved your leg off his lap, sitting and reaching up, fingers playing with some of the messy strands at the nape of his neck. A small shiver traveled down his spine, but he continued, focus unwavering.
You continued, leaning your chin against his shoulder as you did so. Carlos cleared his throat, a sound that rumbled right through his chest. He was still trying to pay attention to the voice on the other end of the line, but your fingers gently twisting the short hairs at the back of his neck were clearly testing his limits.
You huffed a small breath through your nose, watching it hit the skin of his neck. He stopped writing for a second, the tip remaining pressed against the paper, bleeding a small dot of black ink. His grip on the pen tightened until his knuckles turned slightly white. He was fighting a losing battle, and you both knew it.
"Yeah, I copy that. We'll have the inventory logged by 0800," Carlos said into the receiver. His voice was a fraction lower now, losing that perfectly smooth, professional rhythm he usually kept during calls like this.
You leaned a little more of your weight against him, shifting just enough to press your cheek against his shoulder. From this angle, you could see the exact moment his jaw clenched as he tried to maintain his composure.
He didn't try to push you off, although you were practically climbing all over him. He continued scribbling small things down.
You started playing with his shirt collar, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers, gently tugging on it, and lazily tracing the seam. Your thumb brushed against the warm skin of his collarbone, and it was his turn to sigh, a barely audible sound leaving his lips.
Amused by the tiny reaction, you slid your hand down to the first button of his shirt. You lightly caught the small plastic disc between two fingers, twisting it back and forth, then letting it snap gently back against the fabric. When that didn't make him break, you moved to the next button down, mindlessly tracing the stitching.
"...Understood, Captain. I'll make sure the supply lines are cleared by tomorrow afternoon," Carlos managed. He cleared his throat again, trying to pull his mind back to the logistical data on his lap, but with your fingers casually messing with his shirt buttons, his focus was entirely shot.
"Oliveira, you still with me? You sound like you're a million miles away." The voice on the other line said sharply.
Carlos’s eyes darted down to you, a sudden flash of heat hitting his cheeks. "Uh, yes, sir. Just... double-checking the inventory numbers here."
"Right. Well, it’s late, and you’ve been staring at those reports since noon. Wrap up the page you're on."
"Copy that, sir. Thank you," Carlos said, a visible wave of relief washing over his face.
He clicked the screen to end the call, tossed the phone onto the cushion beside him, and finally let his pen drop onto the coffee table with a soft clatter.
For a second, he just sat there, letting out a long, dramatic sigh as the last of his rigid work-mode posture completely melted away. Then, that familiar, easygoing smirk crawled back onto his face.
"You're a menace, you know that?"
Before you could even think about sliding away, his arm shot out, hooking securely around your waist and pulling you flat against the couch cushions.
"Payback time," he chuckled, his fingers instantly finding your sides.
You gasped, twisting and trying to squirm out of his grip, but Carlos was too fast. He targeted your sides, completely shattering the quiet atmosphere of the room with your sudden bursts of laughter.
"Carlos, stop! Wait!" you managed to get out between breathless giggles, batting uselessly at his large hands.
"Nope, no mercy," he teased, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement as he kept up the attack for a few more seconds, perfectly content to let his paperwork be forgotten on the floor.
"That's what you get for testing my focus."
Finally, he relented, leaving his hands resting lightly on your waist as you caught your breath.
He rested on top of you immediately after, making you groan from the weight.
"Oh, come on. I'm not that heavy," Carlos laughed, though he didn't make any move to shift his weight. Instead, he propped his chin up on your chest, looking up at you.
You let out another dramatic sigh, burying your hands into his messy curls just to give them an affectionate tug. "You are a literal brick wall."
He tilted his head into your touch. The loose sheets of his report were scattered across the floor and the coffee table, completely abandoned.
He shifted slightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a contented hum.
It wasn't long until you felt lips dragging against your neck. The sensation was light, almost experimental at first.
His lips brushed softly against the sensitive skin just below your jawline. A quiet gasp caught in your throat, your fingers instinctively tightening in the thick, unruly curls at the back of his head. Carlos let out a low, vibration of a hum against your skin, clearly pleased with the reaction.
You tilted your head back, and his lips quickly started to suck more than kiss on the soft skin. A sudden shiver traveled down your spine, your breath catching entirely in your throat as a soft, helpless gasp escaped your lips. The cosy quiet shifted, growing heavier as his breathing slowed.
You tilted your head completely to the side to give him better access, a quiet, shaky sigh leaving your lips. His lips slowly travelled up, finding your own. They were a deep, familiar warmth against yours. It started soft and warm, but quickly escalated to something deeper and much more intense. Carlos’s hand slid from your waist up to the side of your neck, his large palm framing your jawline to hold you steady as he deepened the kiss. Every ounce of his earlier hesitation completely evaporated, replaced by a fierce, focused attention that was entirely directed at you.
Your heart hammered against your ribs as his lips moved against yours with an intoxicating hunger, his tongue dancing against yours. The slow, lazy rhythm from a moment ago was gone, overtaken by a heated, breathless rush that left your mind completely blank. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders, pulling him down closer as if you couldn't get near enough to the heat radiating off him.
Carlos let out a low, ragged sound against your mouth, a vibration that sent a pang of arousal straight through you. He shifted his weight, his broad frame pressing you deeper into the plush cushions of the couch, his hardness pressing against your thigh, completely enveloping you until the rest of the room entirely ceased to exist.
The heat between you continued, the kiss growing heavier and more consuming as his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest was a contrast to yours, which felt like it was going to jump out of your ribs any minute.
Before he pulled away, he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, the sweet, sharp pain shooting through your lip.
His hands pushed under your shirt, resting against the warm skin of your waist. He pushed it up, moving down to press his lips to your stomach. The sudden, cool draft of the living room air was instantly countered by the intense, blooming warmth of his mouth pressing against your skin. A quiet, sharp gasp escaped your lips, your abdomen tightening instinctively at the sensation. Carlos let out a low hum against you, the vibration of his voice sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin.
He used his tongue and lips slowly against your skin, leaving a trail of warm, deliberate kisses that made your chest rise and fall with shallow, breathless sighs.
His tongue trailed up, nibbling the skin near your chest, making you gasp. The sudden sensation made your fingers tighten completely in his shirt, your back arching slightly off the cushions.
Taking advantage of the arch, his fingers slipped behind you, unbuckling your bra and letting it come off, pushing your shirt higher, revealing your breasts to his gaze.
"Look at you," he said softly, the gravel of his voice sending vibrations directly through you.
You gasped sharply as his mouth closed around your nipple, his fingers reaching up to twist and squeeze the other. "Fuck," you sharply inhaled, your body completely caught between the instinct to arch up into his touch or twist away from it.
His teeth lightly grazed as he swirled his tongue, causing your hips to spasm slightly as they arched up again, another breathless swear getting caught in your throat.
"Carlos," you breathed, attempting to push his head away. He finally pulled away, warm breath gently hitting your sensitive skin as he looked up at you. "Just let me take care of you. Yeah?" His voice resonated through you, lower than normal, a deep, raspy sound that filled the room.
He only tore his gaze away so his fingers could find the buttons to your jeans. His fingers hooked into the waistband, thumb finding the cold metal of the button and nudging it through the stiff denim. You shifted your hips up to help him, and he slowly dragged the fabric down your legs.
His lips were worshipping any sliver of skin he was gradually revealing, leaving a warm trail of kisses that didn't miss a single spot, licking and kissing until he got down to your sensitive ankles, pressing warm, wet kisses before he pulled your jeans off fully.
His lips and tongue slowly moved back up your leg in smooth motions, mouth pressing against your clothed pussy, the soft fabric covering it already drenched.
His fingers caught under the waistband, pulling them down before you had a chance to react to the warmth of his breath so close to you.
He didn't hesitate, mouth immediately finding your clit, tongue pressing against it as if he'd been deprived of this his whole life. You gasped sharply, hips jumping. His mouth continued, tongue moving with experienced precision. He released your clit, licking a long stripe all the way up, spreading your juices all over yourself and his own tongue.
He groaned at the sweet, slightly tangy taste of you, his warm mouth finding your clit again. "Fuck," you gasped, breath ragged.
His arm snaked up from under him, pushing a finger inside you. The small, unexpected intrusion made you jump slightly, but the sensation quickly balanced out into pleasure. His finger pumped in and out as his mouth borderline devoured you.
He followed your movements completely, not letting your back arching or twisting break his rhythm. When your fingers found his hair again, pulling sharply on the thick, messy strands, he moaned against you, sending vibrations all the way through your core, making you whimper.
Another finger pushed inside you, curling until they reached the soft, spongy spot that made you almost choke on your own breaths. Your moans and soft curses filled the room, followed by a gasp of his name. His mouth tormented your clit and his fingers pumped in and out of you, and it wasn't long until you felt your lower stomach tighten slightly.
He seemed to be enjoying it more than you. His fingers pulled out, quickly replaced by his warm, wet tongue. His thumb replaced his mouth, circling your sensitive clit.
His tongue devoured you like a man dying of thirst, and your legs closed around his head, back arching off the couch. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your thigh, anchoring you against him as if he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go.
When his thumb pressed a little firmer, you're breath stuttered, catching in your throat for a second. "Carlos, I'm—I'm gonna—"
You couldn't even finish your sentence before he doubled down, tongue moving quicker alongside his thumb, moving in the exact way he knew you loved. It wasn't long until the tightening coil in your stomach snapped, and your orgasm washed over you, causing you to throw your head back and your back to arch, the explosive sensation ringing throughout your body.
He continued even after your body had come down from its high, moving his tongue back up to your clit, licking and sucking as if he could swallow the very air around you if you let him. The sensation quickly traveled into overstimulation, the sparks flying through your body causing your legs to twitch and shake.
"Carlos—" you gasped, the sensation becoming more and more intense, the sounds leaving your mouth now fully unguarded. When you moaned his name, there was a slight tremble in your voice.
He pulled back eventually, head coming back up from being trapped between your thighs, mouth glistening as air rushed into his lungs, inhaling ragged gasps, and worry quickly overtook you as you realised you were basically suffocating him.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice breathless and uneven.
He shook his head slightly, his gaze dark but warm. "For what?"
"You looked like you couldn't breathe," you admitted, shifting higher against the pillows. A faint, lingering tremor still pulsed through your thighs.
"I barely could," he murmured, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. A slow, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he caught the lingering worry on your face. "But I enjoyed every second of it, baby. Don't look so concerned. If I'm going to suffocate anywhere, I'd prefer it to be between your thighs."
You shook your head, a breathless laugh escaping you. Before you could retort, he sat up, sliding his hands around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. When his mouth captured yours, the kiss was deep and entirely possessive. You let out a soft moan against his lips, heat rushing straight back to your core as you tasted your own slick sweetness on his tongue.
He drank the sound in, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles into the soft skin of your hips.
"See?" he whispered, his voice a low, raspy rumble against your lips. "Nothing to apologise for."
The contrast of the cool room against his radiating body heat made you shiver slightly, pressing closer into his embrace.
"You're ridiculous," you murmured, though there was no real bite to the words.
The heavy, comfortable warmth of him shifts instantly as he catches the tiny vibration of your laugh against his chest.
"Oh, you think I'm being sweet?" he murmurs, his voice vibrating with a sudden, wicked amusement. Before you can answer, his hand slides from your lower back, his fingers tracing a light, agonisingly slow path down your spine until they find the sensitive curve of your hip.
He squeezes gently, making you gasp, and uses the leverage to roll smoothly until he is hovering directly over you.
"Let me clarify," he whispers, leaning down until his lips brush the sensitive spot right beneath your jaw. He doesn't kiss you yet. He just lets his breath warm your skin, making you shiver. "I was being greedy, not sweet. And I still am."
To prove his point, his knee slides between yours, gently but firmly nudging your thighs apart once more. The friction of his clothed skin against your bare, sensitive body sends a sharp jolt of electricity straight to your core.
You look up at him, your breath hitching as you see the cocky, satisfied smirk spreading across his face. He loves knowing exactly how much power he has over you, and he isn't trying to hide it.
He pushed himself up until your legs were wrapped around his waist, and his hands found the button to his jeans.
You watched through half-lidded eyes as he rid himself of the final barrier, his broad chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm.
He lifted his shirt over his head, chucking it aside. His chest was wide and covered in a pattern of dark hair that swirled over his ribs and followed the lines of his well-defined midsection.
His presence felt massive, his wide shoulders and thick torso commanding the room. Seeing him like this, rugged and unpolished, felt incredibly unreal, no matter how many times you'd seen it.
When he moved back over you, the sudden, unrestricted friction of his bare thighs and stomach sliding against yours sent a violent wave of goosebumps tracing across your skin.
You let out a shaky sigh, arching up automatically to meet his heat. Carlos let out a low rumble of approval, his hands finding your waist again, his palms burning hot against your bare skin. He tilted his hips, aligning himself perfectly, and the playful atmosphere completely evaporated as he slowly began to push inside you, his thick length stretching you perfectly.
The playful teasing evaporated the absolute second he slided into you. A sharp, entirely helpless gasp caught in your throat, your head snapping back against the cushions as your eyes fluttered closed.
Carlos let out a low groan right against your ear, a raw sound that vibrated straight through your chest. All of his cocky restraint completely shattered in an instant. His broad shoulders locked tight, and his large hands clamped down hard on your hips, his knuckles turning white as he anchored you flat against the couch.
He stayed still for a long, agonising beat, his forehead dropping against yours as he forced a ragged breath through his teeth. The cocky, effortless smirk from moments ago was entirely gone, replaced by a tight, strained line as he fought against the overwhelming sensation of his cock pushing inside your wet pussy. The way your walls were squeezing him was making it harder and harder for him to be gentle.
Every muscle in his broad chest was locked hard against yours, his heart hammering in a frantic, demanding rhythm that mirrored the sudden, wild spike in your own pulse.
"God, baby," he choked out, his voice reduced to a low, gravelly rasp right against your ear. His breath was scorching hot, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. "Don't move. Just... give me a second."
You couldn't have moved even if you wanted to. Your fingers were clawed desperately into the skin of his shoulders as your mind struggled to process the sheer fullness of him. A quiet, shaky whimper escaped your lips, cutting straight through the quiet room.
At that sound, Carlos’s grip on your hips tightened until it was almost bruising. A low, primal growl tore from his throat, his hard-fought restraint snapping completely.
He lifted his head, his hooded, dark eyes boring into yours with an intoxicating intensity that left you breathless.
"You're making this very difficult," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at you. You could feel him holding back, wanting to do much more than he thought you could handle. He was giving himself a moment to gather his self control.
"Carlos... don't hold back.. you're killing me." You breathed, trying your absolute best not to move against him.
At your words, Carlos’s chest heaved with a sharp breath. The admission that he was torturing you, and that you wanted him to lose control just as badly as he did, was the final blow to his sanity.
"You asked for it," he growled out, the words thick and dark against your lips.
He didn't wait. His thick cock drove inside you, and a broken, helpless moan crashed past your lips as he filled you to the absolute limit in a single second.
The friction of the movement sent a violent wave of heat crashing from your core straight out to your fingertips.
Before you could even recover from the shock of the first movement, Carlos pulled back and drove in again. The slow, careful hesitation from a moment ago was instantly gone, replaced by a demanding rhythm that was entirely driven by the desperate way your thighs tightened around his waist.
A continuous string of breathless, broken whimpers began to spill past your lips, your head rolling back against the armrest as your vision blurred from the pure intensity of it. Your fingers dug the bare skin of his shoulders, your nails pressing in his muscles as you tried to anchor yourself against the frantic pace he was setting.
Carlos drank in every single sound of your undoing. He let out a low, breathless laugh that was half-groan, his head dipping down to bury his face in the crook of your neck.
"God, you're so fucking tight," he panted against your skin, his voice entirely ruined, shaking with the effort it took to speak. "Listen to you... fuck, baby, you're driving me crazy."
The sheer intensity of the pleasure was too much, making your back arch off the couch as a wave of pleasure rippled through you. Carlos watched your eyes flutter closed, a cocky, breathless smirk cutting through his own desperation as he saw how completely undone you were.
"Oh, no you don't," he teased, his voice a low, gravelly rumble against your lips as he picked up the pace, deliberately driving you higher. "Stay right here with me, baby. Don't close your eyes yet."
Your head rested back against the armrest, your eyes glazed as a continuous string of disjointed, high-pitched whimpers spilled from your lips.
The sheer intensity of his full body weight smashing down on you, the blistering heat of his stomach against yours, his cock dragging in and out of you, and his skin frictioning against your hypersensitive breasts sent a violent, electric shock straight down your spine.
Your inner thighs were trembling so hard they could barely hold their grip around his waist, your core pulsing desperately around him.
"Fuck, baby," he pants, his voice an absolute wreck, cracking under the weight of his own arousal. "You’re crushing me. Squeeze me like that again and I’m done."
You can’t even form a syllable to answer. Another ragged sob of pure pleasure escapes you as your hips twitch instinctively upward, begging for more.
Seeing you completely at his mercy breaks whatever control he has left. A low, wicked chuckle, breathless and raw, vibrates in his throat. He suddenly, brutally increases his speed, his hips driving down with an unrelenting, heavy force that makes the couch squeak against the floor.
He shifted his angle slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made you throw your head back with a fractured moan.
"Ah!" The sound ripped from your throat, high and completely ruined, cutting off into a sharp, hitching gasp. Your back arched completely off the couch, fingers clawing blindly into the thick, corded muscles of his shoulders.
You cried out when he grabbed your hair, yanking it back just enough to feel the burn in your scalp and tears gather in the corner of your eyes.
"Oh, you like that spot, don't you?" he whispered, his hot breath brushing your lips as his hips gave a torturously slow, heavy grind forward.
You could only let out a helpless, shuddering whine, your eyes blurring with tears as the burning tension in your scalp and the overwhelming pleasure between your thighs held you completely captive.
He sped up his thrusts as his hand moved to start rubbing over your clit again, causing a strangled moan to escape your mouth.
He grunted as you squeezed him tightly, thrusting deeply as you came. Your back arches off the couch, completely out of your control as a sudden, white-hot current surges up your spine
He didn't stop, continuing to thrust deeply into your spasming pussy until your vision blurs into static. It's too much, your nerve endings entirely on fire, leaving you helpless and weeping into the cushions. He leans over you, his eyes dark. "Be good for me," he cooes, his voice a devastatingly calm contrast to the storm inside you. "Hold still."
You try to shift your hips, thighs trembling against his hold because the sensation is too bright, too intense to process. He catches your hips, anchoring you. "Where do you think you're going?" he murmurs, his lips brushing your jaw.
The sensation of his cock dragging against your sensitive walls is too much, too electric, sending tremors straight down to your toes. You continue to try to twist your hips, trying to catch your breath as your mind goes completely blank from the sensory overload.
"Carlos, please," you gasped out, your hands moving to his broad shoulders.
He hooks one large hand securely under your thigh, pinning your leg high over his hip to press his weight even deeper into you, rendering you completely helpless to the rhythm.
"Please what, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his tone laced with a cocky, breathless amusement that makes your blood run hot. He leans down, his lips brushing yours just long enough to taste yourself on his tongue from earlier. "You started this, remember? You don't get to beg for mercy now. Sit still and take it."
You didn't know whether to pull away or lean in, the sensation of him thrusting relentlessly into your weeping pussy entirely too much, but it felt too good to actually pull away.
His breathing became slightly more uncontrollable and laboured as his own release crept closer and closer. He leant further down, the huff of air escaping through his teeth scorching hot against your neck. "Fuck, your pussy feels too good," he groaned, his hair tickling your jaw as he leaned into your neck.
The exact second your squeezed him once more as your third orgasm that night washed over you, he lost all control, his own washing over him, his release gushing into you as his entire body goes completely rigid, a heavy shudder rippling through him. "Fuck," he hissed, your cunt pulsing around him as he caught his breath.
For a long minute, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the ragged, competing rhythm of your breathing.
Then, the heavy tension in his muscles finally melted. He rolled slowly to his side, taking you with him so you were tucked securely against his chest. His hands, which had been anchoring you so fiercely moments ago, were suddenly incredibly gentle.
He pulled a discarded blanket over your trembling shoulders, shielding you from the cool air of the room. One of his large hands began a slow, repetitive stroke down your spine, grounding you as the white noise in your ears slowly faded back into reality.
"Look at you," he whispered, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear of overstimulation from your flushed cheek. His lips curved into a soft, fond smile. "I really broke you this time, didn't I?"
"Shut up," you mumbled into his chest, your voice thick with exhaustion. You tried to sound annoyed, but your fingers only tightened in the fabric of the blanket.
His eyes were incredibly warm, stripped entirely of the dark want from moments ago. "Stay right here. Don't go anywhere."
"Too heavy to move anyway," you breathed out, a tiny, tired smile catching on your lips.
"Good," he murmured, leaning down to press a small kiss to the crown of your head.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed ♡ this took me so long to write idk why 😭
Trigger/content warnings: Small mentions of PTSD and anxiety, sexual content (mdni)
Description: my personal headcanons of what it would be like dating Jill Valentine
Notes: Gender-neutral reader. Hope you enjoy ♡
First Date
You two finally go on a date at a family run café on the edge of the city.
● She would be the one to suggest the café, wanting somewhere calm where she doesn't have to look over her shoulder every 5 minutes.
● She'd probably wear well fitted denim jeans and a plain black t shirt, nothing too fancy. She'd look casual, but you'd still notice a distinct effort in how she put herself together.
● I can imagine her smelling almost like a rainforest. Crisp rain, ozone, damp cedarwood, and a hint of green apple.
● Her humour is dry and slightly sarcastic. She isn't loud or boisterous, but she loves a little bit of witty banter. If you make a joke, she’ll give you a small, knowing smirk that crinkles the corners of her eyes, and she'll match your energy with a quick comeback of her own.
● She is an incredibly attentive listener. When you talk, her eyes are locked completely on you, and she doesn't just nod. She asks follow up questions and shows genuine interest in you and your hobbies.
● She notices everything. Mid sentence, her eyes might flick to a car parking outside or someone talking a bit too loudly, but she transitions back to the conversation smoothly.
● When the bill comes, she insists on splitting it. She views her relationships, platonic or not, as true partnerships and believes that they should be equal.
Everyday life
You two finally start dating after successful dates
● Her love language is definitely acts of service. If you've had a bad week, you'll come home to your favourite takeout already ordered and the living room cosy. If there's a problem anywhere around your house, your car making a strange noise, a door lock problem, or even something minor like a loose cupboard door, she'll try her best to fix it for you.
● Her protectiveness is very practical and more on the quiet side. She won't be loud about it or be possessive over who you hang around. Instead, she makes sure you're physically safe. She'll casually double check the window latches when she walks through a room and makes sure that you always have a way to contact her.
● She makes sure that decisions are always made together. Whether it's making big life changes, making weekend plans, or something small like handling chores, she likes to make sure everything is 50% on both sides. She isn't looking to be rescued, nor does she want to baby anyone. She wants things to be equal.
● Her quiet time is sacred to her, and she loves sharing it with you. Her job is so demanding and chaotic, so she thrives in quiet moments, like just holding you on the couch in comfortable silence while you both do your own thing.
● She is incredibly loyal. Once Jill cares about you, she is in your corner completely and unconditionally. If someone wrongs you or treats you poorly, she won't hesitate to stand up for you.
● Physical touch is very grounding for her. In private, she likes little things like leaning her shoulder against yours in the kitchen or mindlessly tracing patterns on the back of your hand while you're watching a movie.
Mornings and nights
Going to sleep and waking up with her
● She definitely rises up early, around 6am sharp. You usually wake up to the smell of fresh coffee. If she's still in bed when you wake up, she’s completely relaxed, resting her head on your chest and enjoying the rare moments where she doesn't have to rush out the door.
● She has a hard time sleeping every night. She's been through a lot, and her PTSD and general anxiety make it impossible for her to sleep. If she can't fall asleep, she just stays up and enjoys the absolute stillness of the night. When everyone else is asleep, she can let her guard down and do anything she wants.
● In the mornings, if you catch her just as she's getting up, she loves to linger a bit longer even though she has a strict schedule of a million things to do. When she's tired, she becomes really affectionate. She’ll rest her head heavily against your shoulder, wrap her arms loosely around your waist, and let out a quiet sigh, completely content to delay her day just to stay wrapped up with you for a few more minutes.
● If you have trouble sleeping, she'll either pull you close, rest her chin on your head, and play with your hair and rub small circles into your back, or she'll stay up with you when she's also restless and talk with you all night in low, quiet whispers about everything and nothing at all.
Bad days
Both of your bad days with eachother
● She has quite a few bad days. Her memories of Raccoon City or Wesker are some root causes of her PTSD, and sometimes it just hits her really bad.
● She tends to isolate herself at first. She hates feeling vulnerable or like a burden, and she's used to feeling like she has to be the strong one and the survivor. It takes her a while to admit she's struggling, and you notice her hyper-focused on mundane tasks like aggressively wiping down the counter or spending much longer than usual at the supermarket.
● When her mind is racing with bad thoughts or old memories, she finds comfort in repetitive, ambient sounds. She might ask to leave a fan on high or just sit on the porch with you listening to the rain to drown out the noise in her head.
● She knows exactly what it feels like to be overwhelmed, so she will never pressure you to talk about your feelings if you aren't ready. She’ll simply bring you a hot drink, sit nearby, and let you lead the interaction.
● If you have any self doubt or anxiety, she is an absolute rock. She will look you dead in the eyes and remind you how strong you are. She's been through a lot on missions and has seen things no human should, but she never undermines what you go through, even if it's something small.
Life when she's away
What your life would be like when she goes on missions
● When she leaves, she isn't one for overly dramatic goodbyes. Instead, she’ll give you a long, firm hug that lingers just a second longer than usual. She’ll look you in the eyes and say a quiet, "I'll see you in a few days," treating her return not as a possibility, but as an absolute certainty.
● She's very cautious. She hates leaving people she loves. She'll double check the working ability of every door and window lock and make sure you can contact someone she trusts, like Chris or Claire, when she can't be contacted if something happens.
● Because she knows how easy it is to overthink and worry, she might playfully leave you a small list of low-stakes tasks to keep you occupied. It’s her subtle way of looking out for your mental health from afar.
● She knows how quiet and lonely it can get by yourself when you're not used to it, especially when the person you love is on a mission and you're waiting for them to get home, so she likes to leave small parts of herself, like her favourite shirt or let you use her most beloved mug.
● The moment she walks through the door, the intense, hyper-focused look instantly drops. She’ll set her gear down by the entrance and pull you into a long, tight hug, burying her face into your shoulder. She won't say a word at first. She just needs a few minutes of absolute silence to let her guard down and fully register that she is finally back in her safe space.
● Once she’s cleaned up, she becomes incredibly clingy. She’ll want to sit as close to you as humanly possible on the couch, looping her arm through yours or resting her head on your lap while you watch something lighthearted. She doesn't want to talk about where she was. She just wants to focus entirely on the comfort of being near you.
Intimacy (NSFW)
What it's like being intimate with her
● She isn't one to hide her emotions in private. She becomes more vulnerable than she usually is, saying things like, "You have no idea how much I missed you," or softly repeating your name against your skin.
● Although she heavily prefers complete equality in her day to day life, during intimacy, she likes to take a more dominant role. It satisfies a certain part of her that feels the need to be in control and take care of others without it turning into a toxic, everyday life thing.
● She loves the visual of having complete control over you. She will position you in front of a bedroom mirror, holding you firmly from behind. She’ll hook her chin over your shoulder, forcing you to look at your own reflection as she touches you. She'd murmur something like, "Look at what you look like when I touch you there," and "Don't look away from me."
● She isn't usually possessive, but behind closed doors, she wants a physical reminder that you belong together. She will leave dark, hidden bruises along your collarbone or hips. As she bites down gently on your shoulder, making you gasp, she’ll whisper against your skin, "I want you to think of me every time you feel this tomorrow. Remember who you belong to."
● Jill's physical strength is a major part of her. She loves straddling your hips and using the strength of her legs to anchor you to the bed, completely trapping your lower body beneath hers. She’d say something like, "You're completely pinned, huh?"
● Because she is used to moving fast on missions, she uses intimacy to deliberately slow down time. She loves tracing her fingers slowly up your inner thighs, along your ribs, or over your lips, purposefully making you wait. When you whine or try to pull her closer, she’ll pull back just out of reach, eyes glinting. "Patience. We’re doing this on my time tonight."
● She connects deeply through sight, and she wants to see every single emotion cross your face. If you try to shy away or hide your face in the pillows because you're flustered, she will gently but firmly cup your chin, forcing you to look right at her. "Don't look away from me."
● When she is down between your legs, she likes to firmly hold your thighs apart or pin your hips down so you can’t twist away from the intensity. She uses a steady, rhythmic combination of her tongue and fingers, building your pleasure to the absolute edge before slowing down just to watch you squirm and beg.
● The second the intensity fades, she will instantly pull your heavy, limp body completely onto her chest, wrapping her strong arms and legs around you in a tight, protective lock, and stay completely still under a heavy duvet, needing to feel the steady rise and fall of your breathing to ground her mind.
A/N: I love Jill, so I was so excited to write this 😭 hope you enjoyed ♡
Trigger/content warnings: smut (mdni), marking, healed scars (from his missions), jealousy, power dynamics, dominant Leon and submissive Leon for a little bit, hand job, unprotected sex, praise, slight degradation, overstim
Description: You work side-by-side with your coworker for for a work assignment, and Leon isn't thrilled by it.
Notes: AFAB reader, and female anatomy is described, but no specific pronouns are used. Also RE6 Leon. Hope you enjoy ♡
Word count: 8.4k
The rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the low hum of the office copy machine filled the room, creating a steady background noise that usually helped you focus. Today, however, the sheer volume of paperwork stacked on your desk was enough to make your head spin. You leaned on your hand, staring down the looming deadline and wondering how you were going to finish it all before the end of the day.
Right on cue, a familiar cardboard cup with steam floating from it was carefully set down next to your keyboard, the faint scent of coffee filling the dry office air.
"Double shot, extra hot, just the way you like it," Connor said, offering a warm, easygoing smile as he leaned slightly against the edge of your desk.
You looked up, the tension in your shoulders dropping a fraction as you gave him a grateful smile. "You didn't have to do that, Connor. Thank you." A heavy sigh slipped out before you could stop it. "I don't even know where to begin with this quarter's data entry. It feels endless."
"Don't worry about it," he replied, reaching over to slide a thick manila folder off the top of the stack. "I cleared my queue early, so I decided to handle this half. I just put it back on your desk."
He opened the folder and pulled out a few reference sheets, pointing to the columns where he had cross-referenced the numbers. "Most of the actual logging is done on the system now, so there wasn't too much physical paperwork, but I made sure all the blank spaces were filled and signed off on the authorisation lines."
You stared at the organised file, relief flooding through you for what felt like the first time since last week. You took the folder, going through some sheets before clicking on the link on the computer, seeing it completely signed off. "You really did all this in one morning? How?"
"I've got a system down," Connor replied. "Once you do enough of these quarterly reports, the data entry practically becomes muscle memory."
He straightened up from your desk, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Just make sure you double check the final submission page before you hit send. The system can be a little glitchy with authorisations on Fridays because there's so many."
You nodded, giving him another small thanks as he walked away. You only had another half to handle today. Your deadline was 5pm, and it was 9am. You had plenty of time.
Quarter data entries were always slow for you because you were painstakingly thorough with numbers, making sure every decimal and formula lined up perfectly before moving on to the next section.
You pulled the next manila folder toward you, logged into the database, and got to work.
By the time the clock struck 4, you had completely cleared the half of your queue you had to do. You double checked Connor's authorisations before hitting the final submission button and logging off.
You packed up your bag, slid your coat over your shoulders, and checked out right at five, stepping out into the cool evening air. You knew Leon would probably also be home by this time, too.
He’d been up before dawn, quietly slipping out of bed at 6am for what he’d dryly called a "glorified errand" of a mission. A quick little briefing, a standard DSO protocol. When he wasn't on life threatening missions, he was stuck doing small briefings and security checks.
He’d promised he’d be back by 3pm at the latest, which meant he was already home, probably showered, and waiting for you.
When you finally unlocked the front door of the apartment, the familiar, comforting scent of home hit you instantly. You kicked off your shoes, tossing your keys onto the small entryway table.
"Leon?" you called out, dropping your bag onto the floor.
From the kitchen, you heard the low, familiar rumble of his voice. "In here."
You walked into the kitchen, and he was leaning against the counter, stirring a pot, a skillet next to it. He always made dinner when you weren't home to, or just didn't want to.
The moment his blue eyes locked onto you, a soft smile tugged at his lips. He set the wooden spoon down and turned fully to face you, opening his arms in a silent invitation.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice laced with that smooth warmth that always made your heart skip a beat. "How was the corporate grind?"
You didn't hesitate, stepping straight into his space and wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. You buried your face into his chest, inhaling the clean scent of his soap and the faint trace of leather and bergamot that always clung to him. Leon let out a soft huff of air, his large hands immediately coming up to rest securely against your lower back, pulling you flush against his frame. He rested his chin on the top of your head.
"It started out as an absolute nightmare, but I finished before the deadline," you said. "The data entry was so high. I thought I was going to be going until midnight."
He nodded, thumb beginning to move in slow circles. "But you finished in time. That's all that matters."
"I had help," you said innocently, a grateful smile spreading across your face as you remembered the morning. "This guy from logistics, Connor, came in right at nine with a double shot espresso, exactly how I make my own."
His thumb stopped moving.
You didn't notice the subtle shift at first, continuing to talk. "And then he took the folder off my desk and told me he did half the work. He did it in one morning, somehow. If it weren't for him, I'd still be sitting there."
Leon's hands didn't move from your back. Instead, they tightened significantly, his fingers digging into your waist, anchoring you so securely to his chest that you couldn't move away if you tried.
You blinked, looking up at him. His lazy smirk was gone, and his blue eyes had darkened, fixed on you with an unreadable focus.
"Connor?" Leon repeated, trying to sound casual, but the name sounding sharp and flat on his tongue despite his attempts. "He brought you coffee and handled your files?"
You nodded, "Yeah," suddenly noticing the blunt tone of his voice. "Is everything okay?" You asked, looking up at him once more.
"Yeah, everything's fine." He said, though the iron grip on your waist suggested otherwise. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't make a habit of letting other guys look after you," he murmured, his voice low. "That's my job."
Your breath hitched, his possessive tone leaving you completely tongue-tied for a second. You let out a quiet, flustered laugh, shaking your head. Nudging him slightly, you looked toward the pot. "Anyway, what's for dinner?"
He let out a low, gravelly huff against your hair, clearly amused but not entirely ready to let it go. But, the immediate distraction somehow worked. The tension in his broad shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he finally loosened his grip enough to let you turn fully toward the stove.
"Pasta and chicken," Leon murmured, his voice returning to that smoother, quieter tone. He reached past you to pick up the wooden spoon again, but he didn't step out of your space. His free hand slid down to rest firmly on your hip, anchoring you right next to him. "Figured you’d want something easy after a long day."
You nodded, leaning into his side as you looked down at the bubbling pot of pappardelle. Sizzling right next to it was the chicken, filling the kitchen with the aroma of dried oregano, thyme, garlic powder, onion powder and lemon zest.
"Perfect. I'll handle the toppings," you said, slipping out of his grip to head toward the refrigerator.
You pulled out the Greek yogurt and a cucumber. While the pasta finished boiling, you spooned the thick yogurt into a small bowl, mixing in fresh dill, mint, chives, and some lemon juice. Leon turned the stovetop off, taking the pasta to drain.
Taking a vegetable peeler, you drew it down the length of the cucumber, creating long ribbons.
Leon looked over, watching you work. A soft, appreciative look crossed his face as he realized you were already finishing up the prep.
"Thank you, baby," he murmured, giving you a quick smile before turning his attention back to draining the pasta.
That evening, after eating dinner, you and Leon were on the couch. He sat with an easy posture, watching the TV. You were rested against his side before you decided to shift, climbing ontop of his lap until you were straddling him, burying your face into his shoulder.
He didn't even blink at the sudden shift in weight. His broad hands moved automatically, one palm resting against your lower back while the other cupped the back of your thigh.
He shifted slightly, leaning back against the couch cushions to give you a more comfortable angle, his arm winding securely around your waist. You let out a long, slow breath.
"Still tired?" Leon asked, his voice low. His fingers moved up and down your back through your shirt, slow and light.
"A little," you admitted, shifting your head so your chin rested on his shoulder, allowing you to look at the sharp line of his jaw.
Leon hummed, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. His blue eyes drifted down from the screen, fixing on yours with that quiet, intense focus that always made the rest of the world fade into the background.
His fingers stopped their tracing, hand moving up to cup your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. His thumb brushed along your jawline, his lips slow and deep against yours.
You let your eyes close, your hands finding their place against the warm fabric of his shirt. The only sounds that filled the room was the quiet TV and the soft breaths leaving you both.
His hand on your lower back tightened when he felt your hips shifting against his, and his breath hitched for a second before he pulled back just enough to look at you, a soft, amused smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you said you were tired, sweetheart," he murmured.
You shrugged, "Maybe I am," you muttered, draping your hands over his broad shoulders. "But you're the one who started it."
Leon let out a low, gravelly chuckle, his grip on your hip tightening. "Right. Pretty sure you're the one who climbed onto my lap, sweetheart."
"Details," you laughed softly, letting your head drop against his shoulder once more. Just as your hand begun to travel under his shirt, he stopped you by gently grabbing your wrist.
"Not tonight, baby. I need to be up early tomorrow." He murmured, and before you could feel embarrassed, he started talking again. "You know I can't stop once you start looking at me like that. So don't push your luck, sweetheart. Stop teasing a starving man unless you want me to choose between my job and making you scream tonight. You know damn well I don't play fair once I'm provoked."
You pouted slightly, though the heavy weight in your eyelids made it hard to put up much of a fight. "You're no fun," you mumbled against his neck.
"I'm being responsible. For once," Leon corrected, his tone laced with fond amusement. He released your wrist, his large hand traveling up to cup the back of your head, gently pressing you closer so you could rest comfortably against his chest. "There's a difference. Now close your eyes."
•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•
Monday morning arrived all too quickly after a weekend that felt far too short. You woke up at 5am. Mondays were always agonisingly long.
Your eyes flickered open at the sound of your alarm, the piercing noise ringing inside your skull. You reached from where you could in Leon's arms to turn it off.
You shifted slightly, trying to slip out from under the heavy warmth of his arm, but Leon only grunted, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you right back against his chest. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin.
"Don't go yet," he mumbled, his voice incredibly deep and thick with sleep. "It's barely light out."
"I have to," you whispered, though you couldn't help but smile, leaning back into his solid frame.
Leon let out a low, reluctant sigh against your skin. Rather than letting you slide away, he brought his lips to yours, catching them in a brief, warm kiss. As you tried to pull back with a smile, he hummed in disapproval, his grip tightening on your waist as he pulled you back down for a second, much deeper kiss that completely stole the air from your lungs. He pressed one last, firm kiss to the corner of your mouth before finally letting you sit up.
"Fine," he murmured, slowly opening his eyes, the dark blue looking heavy but focused as he watched you sit up.
When you stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He opened his arms, gesturing for you to walk into them with his hands.
You stepped forward between his legs, letting him wrap his arms around your waist. He pressed his cheek against you, one of his hands sliding down to your thigh, slipping slightly under the towel.
"Nice try," you laughed, stepping back and pushing his hands away. "I actually need to get ready, or I'm gonna be late."
Leon let out a dramatic, defeated sigh, letting his arms drop to his sides as he looked up at you with a slow, teasing smirk. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
When you walked into work that morning, you knew you were going to try and keep your distance from Connor. Leon clearly didn't like it, and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
You stood at the coffee machine for a few minutes, waiting for it to finish. You preferred the coffee you made at home by far to the bitter, aged coffee in the office, but coffee is coffee.
Taking the cup, you sat down at your desk with a sigh, setting the cup and your bag down, logging in. As soon as you opened the computer, an email came up on your screen.
The email was from your supervisor, and the subject line read: Temporary Department Merger & Project Assignments.
You clicked it open, taking a slow sip of your coffee as you read through the text. Because of a sudden backlog in end-of-month logistics data, management had decided to pair up the data entry and logistics teams for the next two weeks to streamline the workflow.
Your eyes scanned down the page to find your name, and right next to it, the designated partner: Connor.
The email concluded with an instruction to relocate to the shared workspace desks on the third floor by 10am to set up your temporary stations.
You let out a quiet breath, staring at the screen. Your plan to keep a polite distance to avoid any friction with Leon had officially hit a roadblock before the day had even properly begun.
You checked the time. It was only 7am. You had a few hours until then.
You spent those 3 hours plowing through as much independent data entry as possible to minimise the amount of shared work you'd have to do during the day.
By the time clock crept towards 9:45, you saved your progress, shut down your monitor, and stacked the current files into a neat pile, ready to take upstairs.
You took one last, disappointed sip of your lukewarm office coffee, chucking the cardboard into a small trash can, making your way to the elevators.
The third floor was far more spacious than your usual department, filled with long shared desks designed for collaborative projects.
"Over here," a voice called out over the ambient hum of chatter and clicking keyboards.
You looked over to see Connor at a double-desk setup near the windows. He already had his laptop set up on one side, leaving the other half completely clear for you.
"Hey," you said, walking over and setting your heavy stack of folders down with a soft thud.
You didn't say much, just sitting down in your chair. The idea of working non stop with him wasn't the most enjoyable one on the planet.
He slid a printed spreadsheet toward you. "If we divide it this way, we might actually finish the whole backlog by next Thursday."
You looked at the sheet. "This actually looks perfect, Connor. Thanks. Let's just get started."
As you pulled the first file toward you, a sudden thought crossed your mind, making your stomach do a tiny flip. You were definitely going to have to tell Leon about this arrangement tonight, and given how he reacted to just a casual mention of a cup of coffee, you had no idea how he was gonna react to this.
You considered just not telling him, but that felt weird. If he somehow found out, he'd be confused at why you kept collaborating with him specifically a secret and probably become suspicious like a normal person. You knew you should just tell him.
•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•
You got home, pushing your keys into the door with certain level of force that wasn't aggressive, but more than you usually are. Sitting in that building all day with Connor talking into your ear non stop while you're trying to work, only focusing when he wants to and refusing to be interrupted but gladly interrupting you when you needed to work, was the most excruciating experience you have had all month.
Leon wasn't home when you got in, probably doing some work somewhere on the field. You set your bag down with a sigh that came out as more of a huff.
At least you had time to decompress before telling Leon that you had to work with someone he was clearly jealous of, although he'd never call it that, for 2 weeks.
You decided to make yourself a tea instead of a coffee for a change, looking through the boxes in the cupboard before choosing passionflower tea.
The heavy thud of the front door closing signaled his return. A moment later, Leon stepped into the kitchen.
His eyes locked onto you, tracking the tense line of your jaw and the way you were practically hiding behind your mug.
"Tea?" He asked. "When is the last time you've ever touched a cup of tea?"
"Probably the first time in a few months," you confirmed, setting the mug down. He saw the small, strained smile, and immediately knew you were exhausted. "What happened?" He asked. "Just a long day?"
You nodded, "Yeah, kind of. I've been... well, I have to work with Connor for the next 2 weeks. It's just a complicated thing. Most people in my department are doing it because of a backlog. And it was just exhausting working with him all day because he's tiring. He doesn't stop talking. I'm used to working by myself."
His blue eyes remained locked onto yours as his mind clearly flashed back to Friday evening. He already hadn't liked the sound of this guy bringing you a double shot of espresso exactly how you liked it, but finding out you were now trapped at a shared desk with him for ten business days straight was the breaking point for his patience.
"So first he's bringing you coffee and doing your work for you, and now he's spending eight hours a day in your ear," Leon said, his voice flat and completely stripped of any warmth. The gravelly edge in his tone was sharp enough to cut. "Sounds to me like he’s trying too hard to make himself useful."
"Leon, it's just a temporary assignment," you murmured, placing your hands against his broad shoulders, feeling the rigid tension bunched up in his muscles. "The supervisor paired us up randomly."
"Randomly," Leon repeated, the word sounding flat and entirely unconvinced as it left his lips.
He didn't back down or step out of your space. Instead, he closed the remaining distance between you, his boots solid against the kitchen floor. His hands came up to wrap firmly around your waist once more, his grip heavy and uncompromising as he pulled you flush against his chest. The familiar, grounding scent of him enveloped you, but the relaxed warmth from the weekend was entirely gone.
"It's just my job, Leon. It doesn't mean anything," you said, your voice gentle but firm as you met his darkened gaze. "You're being overprotective. It's just a desk assignment."
"I'm not being overprotective," Leon murmured, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that left no room for argument. He didn't loosen his grip on your waist even a fraction. Instead, he stepped closer, trapping you completely between his broad frame and the edge of the counter. "I'm looking after what's mine. There's a difference."
"He's just an annoying coworker," you countered, a slight huff escaping you as you placed your hands against his chest, trying to create an inch of space. "You're letting a cup of coffee and a shared desk get to you. That sounds a lot like jealousy."
He let out a low, rough breath against your skin as he leaned down, his jaw brushing against yours. "I'm not jealous," he said, breath warm and sharp against your ear.
"Really? Because—" His lips cut you off completely, catching yours in a deep, heavy kiss that made the rest of your sentence vanish into the quiet kitchen.
His fingers tangled firmly into the hair at the back of your neck, tilting your head up just enough to find a better angle and deepen the kiss, while his other hand remained locked like iron around your waist, holding you flush against his chest.
You let your eyes flutter shut, the lingering irritation from the office fading into the background as you leaned into him. Your hands, which had been resting flat against his chest, softened. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his dark shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.
When he finally pulled back, his lips trailed down to your jawline, catching the breath in your throat. The sudden shift in intensity cut through the last of your small argument. Leon didn’t let up, his mouth pressing firm, deliberate kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck. His stubble scraped lightly against your skin, sending a shiver straight down your spine.
"Still think I'm jealous?" He asked, breath hot on your neck.
"I think this is proving my point," you breathed, gasping when he bit slightly on the skin.
Leon let out a low, rough rumble against your throat. He pulled back just enough to look down at you. "It proves I don't like other people wasting your time," he countered.
"Right. Keep telling yourself that." You whispered, a teasing smile tugging at your lips despite the heavy weight of his frame pressing you against the counter.
He didn't say another word. He silenced you by bringing his mouth back down to yours, completely cutting off any further retaliation.
You brought your hand back up to his chest, resting against him, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingers. Leon’s hand shifted from your waist, his palm sliding up the curve of your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, anchoring you against him.
You deepened the kiss, and his tongue fought against yours, hands pushing up under your shirt. The cool air of the kitchen hit your skin as your shirt shifted, but the chill was instantly replaced by the searing heat of his palm pressing against the small of your back.
A quiet gasp escaped your throat, completely swallowed by the depth of his mouth. Leon let out a low groan, his grip tightening until he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
He broke the kiss just to step away from the counter, navigating the familiar path out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway. The only sounds in the apartment were the soft friction of his leather jacket brushing against the wall, your shallow breaths, and the steady, heavy thud of his boots.
When he reached the side of the bed, he dropped you onto it, making you yelp, although you didn't have time to stay shocked as he quickly shrugged his jacket and kicked his boots off, climbing over you.
He trapped your wrists above your head with a single hand, his grip like iron as he leaned down, his chest crushing you into the mattress.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly register that vibrates straight through you. "I want you to remember exactly whose hands are on you right now. No one else gets to touch you like this. No one."
Your breath hitched, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs as you stared up into the stormy darkness of his blue eyes.
Leon let out a dark, satisfied hum at your gaze, the sound vibrating directly against your chest. He didn't waste another second.
Lowering his head, his lips slammed back down onto yours, breaking into a kiss that was a stark contrast to the slow, gentle ones from earlier. It was rough, demanding, and utterly possessive, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you completely while his free hand slid down your ribcage, his fingers digging firmly into the soft skin beneath your shirt.
Every touch felt amplified in the quiet bedroom, the heavy friction of his jeans against your legs and the firm pressure of his chest, skin hot even through the fabric of your shirts.
When he finally broke the kiss to breathe, his lips didn't go far, dragging roughly down the sensitive line of your jaw before burying themselves in the crook of your neck.
He nipped sharply at your pulse point, making your back arch off the mattress with a sudden gasp.
"Leon—" you gasped out, his name a shattered whisper that only seemed to fuel his fire.
He released your wrists, but before you could even think to move your hands, his large palms slid down to grip your hips. He pulled you flush against his frame, leaving absolutely no space between you.
"Call it jealousy all you want, sweetheart," he growls against your jawline, his voice thick with heat. "But tomorrow, you're going back to that office with my marks all over your skin."
He leaned back down to your shoulder, teeth digging into your skin in a way that was almost guaranteed to leave a bruise by the next day.
A sharp gasp caught in your throat, your back arching instinctively off the mattress as your hands flew up to tangle desperately in his hair.
"There it is," Leon murmured against your skin, his voice a dark, gravelly vibration that sent a fresh wave of heat through your chest. "Feel how hard your heart is beating right now, sweetheart? Every time my teeth touch your skin, you arch right into me."
"Leon..." you breathed, your voice a fractured whisper.
"I’ve got you," he growled gently, his lips brushing the fresh mark he’d just left.
His free hand caught the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one swift, impatient motion before discarding it onto the floor. He reached under you, and you pushed yourself up to aid him as his fingers unhooked your bra in a smooth motion, pulling it off.
He didn't hesitate, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it. A gasp catches like glass in your throat. A violent, electric shock ripples straight down your spine, leaving your skin prickling with a heat.
Your entire body shuddered when his teeth brushed over the sensitive bud, the sensation bordering on pain. Your body didn't know whether to lean in or pull away, back arching and greedily leaning in whilst your thoughts stalled, completely caught off guard by how fast your hesitation melted away.
"Leon," you gasped breathlessly, fingers tangling in the strands of his hair. Your body eagerly memorised the warmth of his mouth. He eventually pulled back, allowing you to relax back on the mattress as your lungs caught up.
"Oh, look at you... completely breathless already. Did I push you too hard, sweetheart?" He murmured, his breath hot and sharp against your ear as his chest crushed down against yours. "Tell me how good it feels to lose this little argument, baby."
A breathless, needy whimper escaped your throat, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. You intentionally flexed your muscles against his frame, not to escape, but to feel the reality of just how strong he was. Losing to him was the best part of your day.
"You're... you're still so completely jealous, Leon. Look what a cup of coffee did to you."
"Keep talking that shit, sweetheart, and see where it gets you," he growled softly, his free hand sliding down to squeeze your hip with punishing force. "You think it’s a joke? You'll end up over my knee before you know it. Don't test me, baby."
A sharp breath hitched in your throat, a sudden, delicious shiver racing straight down your spine at the dark promise in his voice. You swallowed hard, staring up into the intense heat of his gaze. You knew he meant every word, but the sheer thrill of it only made you bolder.
Your hands reached up to slip under his shirt, fingers feeling the solid muscle and slight scarring all over his sides and abdomen. "This isn't fair," you said, a sigh escaping your mouth.
"What?" He asked.
"You still have your shirt on. I don't." You started slowly lifting his shirt, revealing the smooth skin of his waist.
He huffed slightly, "You're so impatient, sweetheart. If you wanted it off, all you had to do was ask nicely instead of trying to strip me."
He raised his arms slightly, helping you guide the fabric over his broad shoulders and tossing it blindly over the edge of the bed.
Your hands immediately found their place against his stomach, palms pressing flat against the ridges of his abdomen. Your fingers lightly mapped the faint, silver lines of old scars.
Leon let out a heavy breath, his stomach muscles twitching under your fingertips. "Careful," he murmured. "Some of those are really sensitive."
You nodded, gentling your touch, letting your finger tips brush over the smooth, pale lines.
The both of you sat in silence. The only sounds filling the room were the small hitches of his breath when you brushed a sensitive spot, his muscles twitching and rippling under your fingers.
Your fingers traced a path up to his shoulder, lingering on an old scar, one of his first ones, the deepest one he had gotten in Raccoon City.
He eventually stopped you, his hands pausing your wrists as he leaned back down, letting his lips brush over your breasts and slowly travel down your stomach.
A sharp, helpless gasp left your lips as the heat of his mouth moved over your skin, your stomach muscles contracting instinctively.
He hummed against your skin, a low vibration that sent a fresh wave of electricity straight down your spine. He pulled back just enough to look up at you.
"Quiet now, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a rough, gravelly whisper in the quiet bedroom. "Thought you were the one trying to rush me a second ago."
"You're torturing me," you whispered. Your hips shifted instinctively, silently begging him to stop teasing, but he only let out a low, rough rumble, his free hand sliding up to grip your waist, his thumb digging firmly into your hip to keep you pinned exactly where he wanted you.
He intentionally slowed the pace down to an absolute crawl. Every touch and every press of his lips felt magnified. The cool air of the bedroom provided a massive contrast to the searing heat wherever his body met yours. You could hear nothing but the heavy, uneven rhythm of your shared breathing and the wild, frantic thudding of your own heart against your ribs.
His fingers hooked into your waistband, and with a slow, deliberate tug, he stripped away the last barrier covering you.
The sudden rush of cool air against your bare skin made you shiver, but it was immediately replaced by the overwhelming, searing heat of his body shifting to slide completely between your thighs.
"Leon, please," you gasped out, your hands desperately mapping the rigid muscles of his back, clutching at him for anchor.
He didn't respond, his fingers gliding down your stomach until they reached between your legs, thumb finding your clit, rubbing in firm circles as two of his large fingers slowly pushed inside you.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finally stopped teasing, fingers curling inside of you as his thumb made small, torturous circles against your sensitive clit.
A gasp slipped past your lips, a lazy, liquid heat blooming in your stomach. Your fingers loosely curled against his back, nails digging into the skin.
His fingers curled, hitting that spot inside you that made you arch, the slow, hot pleasure replaced by a sudden rush. He didn't pause, his fingers moving against your spot, causing you to whimper and squirm against the sheets. "Fuck, Leon..." you breathed, a sudden tremble travelling through you.
"Yeah? You like that?" His breath was blazing hot against your neck. He only pulled back to look down your body.
He pulled his hand back, making your hips arch to find him again. "Look at you, chasing my hand the second I move it. You really can’t help yourself, can you?" He murmured, hair tickling your chest as he watched your hips quiver.
His fingers brushed back over your clit, and a sharp, ragged gasp tore from your throat, your entire body arching off the mattress as a wave of pleasure rushed straight to your core.
He didn't give in to the chase. Instead, he kept his fingers just hair breadths away, letting his knuckles brush lightly over your weeping pussy.
"Look at you, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr laced with mock sympathy. He leaned down, brushing a remarkably soft, comforting kiss against your flushed cheek. "You're shaking so badly. It’s okay, baby. Just breathe for me."
You let out a fractured groan of frustration, trying to tilt your hips up to meet his touch, but his grip on your waist was unyielding.
"Shh, I know. It's a lot, isn't it?" Leon cooed softly against your ear, his breath hot and teasing. He stroked your hip in a slow, soothing circle that only made the agonising anticipation worse. "You're so sensitive tonight, baby. Poor thing can't even handle a little space."
Your hand clumsily made it's way down his waist, gripping his belt, feeling the cool, dense grain of the heavy leather.
"Eager, aren't you?" He murmured with a soft chuckle. "You need to learn some patience. We've got all night, and I am going to make every single second last."
Despite his words, his hands moved down to the thick leather, and the sharp clink of the metal buckle echoed in the quiet room as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops, chucking it aside.
He reached back down to his jeans, pushing the metal button through the dense denim, sliding the rough fabric down his legs, leaving him in his boxers.
His fingers wrapped around your wrist, bringing it towards him, letting you feel his hardness beneath the thin fabric of his boxes, the patch of pre cum spreading further and further the more your fingers grazed.
"You see what you do to me?" He asked. "You—" He paused, a breathless groan filling the air as you squeezed him lightly over the layer of fabric covering him, causing his hips to jump slightly.
"You completely ruin me," He continued. "Just you."
The raw confession wrecked what little composure you had left. Your hands tugged on his waistband, tugging his boxers down his legs. He aided you, pushing them off, the final piece of clothing covering him.
Your bodies pressed together, searing hot skin brushing against eachother. You knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you, but you wanted to do something else first.
"Wait, Leon," you paused him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, one of your palms moving down to rest on his large, solid bicep.
"What?" He asked, a certain edge in his tone, clearly just wanting to plainly plow into you until you forgot your own name.
You pushed him off you until your positions were flipped, and he was on his back. The position change caused a slight look of puzzlement to cross his features. You moved between his legs until his hard, leaking cock was face-to-face with you, and your hand wrapped around it.
The confusion on his face vanished, replaced by a quiet huff of amusement escaping his mouth and a slight tremble at the sensation of your hand. "You don't have to, baby," he murmured, though he didn't make a single move to stop you.
"I want to," you said, completely determined. You knew he hated it when he felt like you were doing something just for his pleasure and nothing for yourself, no matter how many times you had explained that watching him lose control and moan because of what you were doing was immensely pleasurable for you.
You didn't hesitate after that, dragging your hand up and down his length, twisting when you reached the top of his cock. Your thumb found his tip, spreading his pre-cum before gently digging into the slit.
"F—fuck, baby, wait," he choked out, his voice completely stripped of its earlier smugness. You moved back down, returning back to stroking him until his hips shakingly pushed up into your hand, fucking your fist himself.
"And you said I was impatient," You murmured, watching him push up into your hand. You continued jerking him off, your thumb swiping his slit, watching his hips buck again.
He finally relaxed his legs for you, spreading them wider as your hand moved steadily, up and down his slick cock. You gave him a small squeeze, causing a strangled moan to escape his mouth.
"Right there... yeah, just like that," he panted, his voice dropping into a desperate, shaky whisper. "Please," he begged, his voice a thick whimper.
You didn't falter, picking up the pace, drawing more pathetic noises out of him. "Is that good?" You asked, watching his eyes squeeze shut every time your hands brushed past a specific spot.
He nodded, "Yeah, it's, fuck, it's so good." He shuddered, chest locking, unable to gather a full breath.
"I can't—I can't hold it back," he whimpered, a sound so entirely stripped of pride it made your heart race.
His shaft pulsed in your hand, twitching as your movements relentlessly continued. You pressed your thumb into the sensitive underside of his head, making him jump as his legs trembled.
His cock continued throbbing in your hand, his eyes rolling back as your thumb continued its torture on the horrendously sensitive underside.
"Fuck—I'm not—I'm not gonna last much longer, baby," he choked out, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.
You moved your fist up and down quickly, sending him over the edge, and his body tensed, eyes rolling back as thick, white ribbons of cum spurted out onto his own stomach as his body trembled and a row of moans and whimpers escaped his mouth.
"Jesus," he panted, shifting until he sat back up. He rested his elbows on his knees, head hanging for a second as his breathing slowed.
He didn't waste much time, quickly regaining his composure and looming over you before you could scramble backward.
His hands shot out, fingers locking securely around your wrists. He didn't throw you down, but the heavy, deliberate weight of him forced you backward onto the mattress. Before you could pull away, he pinned your hands flat against the sheets on either side of your head, the mattress dipping deeply beneath his knees as he crowded into your space.
He leaned down close, his frame trapping you completely against the pillows and leaving you with absolutely nowhere to move. You went entirely still beneath him, your voice trapped in your chest as you stared up at him, unable to find anything to say.
"Quiet now, huh? You had your fun, now it's my turn." He said, hands grasping your legs until you complied, wrapping around his large waist.
He immediately thrusted into your heat, his thick cock burying deep inside your needy little cunt. A sharp needle of pain drove straight into your chest at the sudden intrusion, and your legs locked around him.
He started moving, pulling out and slamming back in, and the point shattered, melting into a rush of pure, golden heat that flooded your veins.
A fierce, involuntary swear slipped past your teeth, slurred and entirely breathless as the sheer weight of the pleasure crushed your thoughts.
"Leon—" you whimpered, his hips snapping against yours. Your legs tightened around his thick waist, nails finding his shoulders once again.
"F—fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby," He groaned breathlessly, his gaze pinning you in place like a physical weight, his chest heaving against yours as if he had ran miles.
Every drag of his cock against your walls was winding the coil in your stomach tighter, and his breath was warm against your cheek as he leaned closer. "God, you feel so perfect," he panted. "Don't move, just stay right there."
A soft, involuntary whimper slipped past your lips, your body turning entirely to liquid beneath him. Your eyes fluttered closed as a violent shiver streaked down your spine. One hand claws into his back, nails marking the skin while the other found his hair, fingers tightening in the strands as your body arched up against his.
He pulled out and thrusted back in at a slightly different angle, his cock hitting your sweet spot directly.
You gasped, your back arching off the mattress as your fingers claw into his shoulders. "Oh, god, Leon—" you choked out, your voice high and entirely broken.
He let out a low growl, his grip tightening on your hips until it's bruising. "Right there?" he panted, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
"Yes—yes, please, don’t stop," you whimpered, completely helpless beneath him.
A ragged, breathless chuckle vibrates against your neck as he deliberately holds himself still, torturing you with the ache of his weight. "Look at you," he murmured, his thumb tracing your jawline to force your eyes up to meet his dark gaze. "You’re shaking."
"I hate you," you panted, tears of pure pleasure pricking your eyes. "Leon, move..." you whimpered, backing arching against him.
"Say it nicely," he whispered, his lips grazing yours, a heavy heat behind his eyes. He grinded against that specific spot just a single, agonising fraction of an inch, making you sob out loud. "Ask me nicely, sweetheart."
"Please," you whined, your nails digging further into his back. "Please, move."
He started moving again with an intensity that caught the air in your lungs. The slow burn in your stomach catches fire, and every single thrust felt electric.
"Leon—wait—" you gasped out, hands losing their grip on his shoulders, fingers tangling into the bed sheets below.
"You still think I'm jealous? Huh?" He growled breathlessly against your lips, his voice a raw, gravelly vibration. He shifted against you, a deliberate, heavy friction.
You can't form words. You can only let out a fractured, high-pitched whimper, your fingers clawing helplessly at the sheets.
Your spine arched right off the bed, a wrecked, clawing "Please" dragged out of the very bottom of your throat as the sensation turns blinding.
The coil in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you as a blinding, white-hot rush of heat shoots straight up your spine, shattering the last of your composure into absolute nothingness.
Your eyes fluttered shut as the tension exploded into pure bliss, the sensation making your toes curl and your head roll back into the mattress.
Instead of stopping, instead of letting you sink into the quiet comedown, he kept moving. He maintained that heavy, relentless friction against that devastating spot, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath.
"Wait, please—" you choked out, your voice a fractured, desperate whimper.
Your nerve endings are entirely too raw, too sensitive. The pleasure doesn't fade. Instead, it turns into a sharp, blinding wave of static electricity that makes your whole body flinch. Every single touch feels like a shock against your skin, so loud and overwhelming that it completely drowns out your ability to think.
His fingers dig into your hips, his grip bruisingly tight as he pins you flat to the mattress when he notices your hips twisting.
"Don’t move," he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly growl right against your ear, his own chest heaving violently against yours. "I’ve got you. Just stay right here."
"It’s too much... I can’t—" you panted, tears of overstimulation pricking the corners of your eyes. Your fingers clawed helplessly at his shoulders, your toes curling as a violent shudder streaks down your spine.
A wicked, triumphant heat spreads behind his dark eyes as he watches you completely unravel. "Look at you. You’re shaking. So perfect. Look how beautiful you look when you're completely ruined for me."
You can only shake your head against the pillow, entirely undone, letting the white noise take over as he drives you blindly into a second, even deeper wave of release.
You screamed his name as waves of intense pleasure washed over you, your body thrashing against his own. He was intentionally holding his own release back, extending your orgasms, but everytime your walls clenched around him, he had to focus especially hard to not cum.
Before your mind can even attempt to settle from the second wave, he deliberately hooks your knees higher over his shoulders, shifting his angle.
The new angle made your body convulse beneath his, his thick cock filling you further.
"Leon, I can't—I can't take anymore," you whimpered, legs aching in the forceful position.
"You can take it, sweetheart." He murmured, his thrusts turning slightly messy as his body abandoned all his composure, his cock slamming in and out, thrusting your body back and forth until you saw stars. "You like feeling this full? Huh?"
You couldn't answer, your legs shaking over his shoulders, each thrust causing a quiver in your legs. The only thing your mouth allowed to escape were your breathy moans and whimpers.
"I'm close," He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as you tightened around him again. You could barely answer, just nodding instead. You were, too.
It only took one more thrust for your third orgasm to shatter devastatingly over you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to form words.
Your walls squeezed him, causing him to let out a sharp swear, his cock twitching inside of you as he came, spurting long ropes that filled you to the brim. The sensation caused a shiver to wrack through your already overwhelmed body.
He allowed your legs to drop from his shoulders as he pulled out, leaving you with a gaping emptiness.
He held himself up over you for a few more seconds, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his body.
With a slow, deliberate exhale, he dropped his forehead against your shoulder, letting his full weight rest against you for just a heartbeat before rolling onto his side. The sudden absence of his heat made the cool air of the room sting against your damp skin.
Before you could shiver, he reached down, grabbed the edge of the duvet, and buried you both beneath it. He pulled you flush against his side, tucking your head securely under his chin.
"You okay?" he asked softly. You nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you spoke from the pure overstimulation.
After a few minutes, he lifted the duvet up from himself, and he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood up.
"Stay right there," he murmured, his voice soft. "I'll be back in a moment."
You didn't have the energy to move even if you wanted to. You lay there, floating in the heavy, dazed aftermath, listening to the distant sound of running water.
A few minutes later, he walked back in. Without a word, he pulled back the sheets, leaned down, and scooped you up into his arms. Your limbs felt heavy and useless, your head naturally dropping against his shoulder as he carried you into the warm, misted bathroom.
He carried you over to the tub full of hot water and bubbles, lowering you carefully until your feet, then your hips, sank into the tub.
The heat was an instant, overwhelming contrast to the cool air, making you gasp softly. He sat on the tiled edge of the bath, his large hands supporting your back until you relaxed back against the porcelain.
He helped you lean back, completely submerging your hair in the comforting warmth.
He gently guided you back up, supporting your heavy shoulders until you sat upright.
Reaching for the shelf, he grabbed the bottle and warmed the shampoo between his palms. He worked his hands into your wet hair, massaging a soothing lather into your scalp with a slow, rhythmic pressure that pushed away the last of your tension.
Finally, he cupped warm water in his hands and poured it over your head, carefully shielding your face as the suds swept away into the depths of the bath.
"So," He began, playing with the wet, soft strands. "Still think I'm jealous?"
You laughed, though the sound was just a quiet, breathy huff. Your body felt too heavy, too drained to properly argue.
"Definitely," you murmured, closing your eyes as his hands tracked a slow path down to your shoulders.
He let out a low, vibrating chuckle. His fingers didn't stop their slow, rhythmic stroking, grounding you back into your own skin.
A/N: I was working on this for around a week, so that's why i haven't posted 😭 hope you enjoyed ♡ I said this was gonna be a 4k word fic. I fear I was a little wrong
Can you write something spicy and jealous type with Leon from RE6? Pretty please?
Omg I just saw this and I'm actually working on like a 4k word fic with this exact premise 😭 it's also exactly re6 Leon, jealous, and spicy, which is a crazy coincidence. It should be out in a few days, maybe a bit shorter ♡ I'm still working on it rn
I don't think Chris would be a massive hugger. He hugs when you're upset or needy, but it's not his primary love language.
If you were to randomly hug him while he's doing something, whether he's standing in the kitchen making his dinner or doing something trivial like sitting on the couch on his phone, he freezes for a split second.
Hugging was never a massive part of his life. His parents hugged him before he'd leave for school when he was very young, and Claire would occasionally hug him, especially when she was younger. But, it's never been second nature to him. He usually doesn't hug someone for absolutely no reason.
When you hug him unexpectedly, his first response is to completely freeze for a split second. He's been trained for decades to react to high-stress situations and to be prepared to be hurt or put in danger. His muscle memory is geared towards threats, so a sudden, unexpected touch definitely triggers a small pause as his brain switches from "work mode" to "domestic mode."
Because hugging isn't automatic to him, his return hug might be a little clumsy at first. He wouldn't immediately wrap his arms around you with perfect ease. Instead, he might bring one large, heavy arm up to rest around your shoulders or back, giving a firm, grounding squeeze.
To break the slight awkwardness of his own delayed reaction, he'd probably clear his throat and ask something like, "everything okay?"
If you said something like, "I just wanted a hug," he'd probably let out a soft, surprised huff of air, his shoulders relaxing completely as the last bit of his guard dropped.
A tiny smile would tug at the corner of his mouth as he realized there was no emergency, no bad news, and no underlying problem to fix. He’s so used to being a problem solver and a protector that the concept of someone just wanting to be close to him for the sake of it takes a moment to sink in.
Once it does, he’d tighten his heavy arm around you, pulling you a bit closer against his side. He’d rest his chin on the top of your head for a second or just keep you tucked under his arm while he went right back to whatever he was doing.
He'd probably mutter something like, "alright, fine" as if it's a massive inconvenience, even though the immediate softening of his posture completely gives him away.
A/N: Just a random thought I had. Hope you enjoyed ♡
Soooo in your leon hcs you said you could make a list of all the things he'd say to you in bed. Could. Could we have the list 👀
Things Leon would say to you in bed
Part 1 | Part 2: period headcanons
Trigger/content warnings: Tiny mention of insecurity. Also bit of degradation and praise (mdni)
Description: What Leon would say to you during intimacy
Notes: Found this in the deepest pits of my notes app and updated it a little. Any version of Leon and gender-neutral reader. Hope you enjoy ♡
● Like I said, he'd talk you through it. He loves talking to you through intimacy, and he doesn't even need you to reply.
"Tell me what you need. Speak up, let me hear it."
"Look at me. You're doing perfect."
"Yeah? You like that? Thought you said you weren't going to let me win that easily."
"Can't even find your words right now, hm? That's a first for you."
● He doesn't let you cover your face or hide in general. He'd say something like, "Don't hide from me now. I want to see exactly how you look when I touch you like this"
● He gets into this weird habit of treating your body parts like separate entities. If he’s trying to move your legs, he won't look at your face. He’ll tap your knee gently, and murmur a very dry, barely audible, "'scuse me..." as if he's politely asking a stranger on a crowded sidewalk to step aside.
● When you're in control, again, he doesn't shut up. He wants you to know that he completely trusts you to hold all the weight for a while.
"You look absolutely incredible looking down at me like that..."
"You have no idea what you do to me."
"Guide my hands... where do you want them?"
● If you were into degradation, he'd be willing to try it with you. He usually doesn't force his words. They just come out naturally, which makes them 10× more effective. But, I don't think he'd be into anything extremely mocking or degrading. Just a very average amount, I feel like.
"Look at how worked up you get just from me looking at you. You really are pathetic for me, sweetheart."
"Look at you, barely able to keep your eyes open and chasing after my hand like a needy little thing. You really can't help yourself, can you?"
● He constantly narrates exactly how you're reacting to him. He isn't guessing how you feel, he's actively reading your body language like a map and reflecting it back to you.
"Oh, so now you're being shy? Pretty sure it's a bit late for that, sweetheart."
"You always turn your face away right when you get flustered. Don't do that. Let me look at you."
"Every time I slow down, you completely shift to match me. Look at how you're leaning into it, sweetheart. You're letting me guide your entire pace right now."
● He loves really lazy morning sex, and it's when he's at his most vulnerable. It's a certain point in his day where he's not performing or being a protector for anyone, and his most honest, unguarded words come out.
"I love you so much. More than you'll ever know. I can't even put it into words."
"You're so fucking perfect. I don't understand it."
"You've saved me in so many ways just by existing. I don't know what I'd do without you."
● If you were ever insecure about any part of your body during intimacy, he shuts it down immediately. Not just to make you feel better, but because he's genuinely confused at your feelings as he loves that part of you so much. He doesn't just say "you're beautiful" or just tells you that he loves that part of you. He makes you feel genuinely worth.
"There isn't a single version of you that isn't completely worth having, through every single flaw and every good day."
"Hey. Look at me. You're way too hard on yourself. You don't have to be flawless to be incredible and sexy, which you are, you know?"
"Don't hide from me. Please."
● He loves talking to you during sex, as you know very well, but sometimes he gets so caught up in the pleasure that he stops for a bit, and all you're left with are his groans and moans and occasional whimpers when he really likes something you do. The only words that escape him when he gets like that are breathless curses or your name when he gasps it like a lifeline. Sometimes followed by the occasional, ragged "please," whether you're in control or not. It just escapes him every single time.
A/N: Sorry this took longer than it should've, I've been so busy 😭 I've been doing loads of finals, I had to get my highlights in my hair retouched, my OCD had gotten like 10× worse randomly, and i just haven't really been active for a few days. I hope you enjoyed ♡
Can you write us more about Leon? Maybe headcanons about him in the period time of the reader hahahaah since all of us seems to be in this time of the month (I’m suffering lol)
Omgg of course 😭😭 I'm suffering too
Leon Kennedy headcanons (part 2)
Part 1 | part 3
Trigger/content warnings: none ♡
Description: my personal headcanons of what Leon Kennedy would be like during your period.
Notes: Wrote this at midnight in my backyard with my cat. I refuse to write anything normally. Also any version of Leon. It changes every 2 seconds in my head when I write. Hope you enjoy ♡♡
● He is completely unfazed. If you're still at the start of your relationship and you're worried about telling him, he’ll completely put you at ease the second he notices you're uncomfortable. He'd say something like, "Hey, you don't have to hide anything from me. I've got you. Tell me what you need, and I'll go grab it." After everything he’s seen and experienced, biological functions do not make him squeamish in the slightest. If you ask him to pick up specific supplies, he doesn't hesitate.
● If you're having cramps, he immediately has you ibuprofen, a hot water bottle, and a banana because he read that the magnesium and potassium ease cramps. He also is naturally warm, and he'll use that to your advantage. If you're dealing with the cramps, he'll just hold you and place his warm hand directly on your lower stomach.
● He'd be there for anything you want. If you want space, he'll give you space. If you want to be close, he'll be close. If you have cravings, he'll get them for you. If you just want to lie in bed all day and ignore the world, he’ll lock the front door, turn off his phone, and slide right in next to you. He is incredibly intuitive when it comes to reading your energy. He doesn't need you to explain why you're frustrated or why you suddenly feel like crying, he just adapts to whatever version of him you need in that exact moment.
● He finds a different kind of closeness in just being your comfort. If you aren't feeling up for anything intense, he genuinely doesn't mind. He loves the intimacy of just holding you close. He’ll pull you flush against him in bed, letting you bury your face in his neck while he breathes you in, completely content to just exist in that quiet, shared space.
● If you get snappy or irritable, he doesn't snap back. He just gives a small, knowing smirk, kisses the top of your head, and says, "Rough day? Let me go make you some tea." He has zero ego when it comes to something you can't control.
● If the hormonal shifts make you suddenly self conscious or emotional, he doesn't treat it like an inconvenience. If you're upset over something small, he won't ask why or tell you that it's only a small thing. He just holds you through it.
● Hypervigilance means Leon is highly sensitive to bright lights and sharp noises when he's overwhelmed. He assumes you feel the same way when you're on your period and under stress. He will go through the house turning off harsh lighting, drawing the blinds, and switching on dim lamps or amber nightlights to create a soothing environment.
● He knows that not every period is the same. Sometimes you have little appetite, sometimes you have an appetite bigger than what you can physically fit in your stomach, and he doesn't bat an eye. He's happy to either make you some buttered crackers with fruit on the side or a 3 course meal. As long as you're eating something, he doesn't care what he has to make.
● He's very tactical and observant. He notices the specific position of your neck when you have a hormonal headache and your posture when you have a back or stomach ache. He usually knows what you need without you needing to say it.
● He utilises heavy pressure therapy for physical relief. Instead of just a light touch, Leon understands the mechanics of deep tissue aches from his own recovery routines. If you experience lower back tension or your normal cramps, he uses his physical strength. He will have you lean against him or lie down while he uses the palms of his hands to apply heavy, grounding pressure to the ache. His hands are naturally warm, like a weighted heating pad.
● He respects your boundaries. If you want to be left alone, he won't bug you. He deeply understands the need to isolate and recharge in dark silence. He's been there many times. He'll stay quiet, close doors softly, turn the movie he's watching in the living room down even though it's a whole floor away from you. But he'll be there immediately if you do end up needing something.
● For a man who carries an immense amount of survival guilt and trauma, being able to successfully protect your peace and make you feel safe is incredibly grounding for him. When you let your guard completely down, complain about the pain, or fall asleep dead weight against his chest, it fulfills his deepest instinct to protect.
● Leon doesn’t do anything halfway. Once the worst of the physical toll has passed and you are just tired, he stays in full caretaking mode. He will slowly wrap you into a fresh set of his own clothes, smooth the hair back from your face with a steady, lingering touch, and press a warm kiss right to your forehead.
● He uses his physical size to anchor your restlessness. When the aches make it impossible to find a comfortable position and you're tossing and turning at night, he will shift his weight to help you settle. He’ll drape a heavy arm or leg over you, securing you gently but firmly against him.
● He keeps your favourite low-effort movies or series on. He won't suggest a heavy, plot-twisted movie when you don't want it. Instead, he’ll silently pull up your comfort shows, a stupid comedy, or a slow paced documentary you’ve already seen a hundred times. He doesn't need to discuss the plot with you. He’s perfectly content to just sit there with you and let the low noise fill the room.
● He doesn't make a big deal out of it, but every time he walks past you, he checks your glass to see if you've drank any of the water he gave you. You’ll find a cold glass of water, some ice, or a light snack like toast or fruit constantly refreshed on the side table within arm's reach. He does it so casually that you don't even have to interrupt your rest to ask for a refill.
A/N: It started raining at like 1am, my cat ran inside, and then I just went inside and went to sleep, so this took longer than it should've, but I hope you enjoyed ♡ also, I wrote the banana thing as a joke, but I tried it, and it worked? Is it placebo 😭 because I swear they got better
Part 2: period headcanons | Part 3: what he'd say during intimacy
Trigger/content warnings: mentions of trauma, PTSD, survivors guilt, and small mention of self neglect, tiny mention of scars (from his missions). Sexual content (mdni)
Description: my personal headcanons of what it would be like dating Leon Kennedy
Notes: Gender-neutral reader. I think this works with any version of Leon above re2. Some things resonate with older Leon, some things resonate with younger Leon. Hope you enjoy ♡
First date
You two finally go on a first date
● Hear me out. He'd take you to an aquarium. I don't care what anyone says, it's peaceful. He's been surrounded by things trying to kill him constantly. Seeing something beautiful, slow, and natural would be grounding for him.
● He definitely prefers walking around, looking at things, and talking, rather than just sitting at a table and asking about each other's lives. He finds the experience more connecting. Sitting across from someone feels like an interrogation (which he's done too many times).
● He'd know nothing about fish. But when you walk past one species, he'd definitely know a really random, niche fact that no one knows about it. He’ll know the exact chemical composition of a pufferfish toxin from a survival manual, but then he’ll look at a sea turtle and just go, "wow. He's a big guy, isn't he?"
● Even on a date, he always subconsciously maps out the exits to each room you enter. He makes sure he's always as aware of them as he can be, making sure you're a tiny bit closer to them than he is.
● He always smells expensive, but understated. Maybe expensive leather and some sort of citrusy cologne. Think bergamot, sicilian lemon, black tea, leather, and a hint of vanilla. It's a scent that lingers on your clothes days after he's hugged you.
● He’d 100% buy you something stupid. A keychain or a plush shark. He’ll act like he’s doing it ironically, but he’ll be genuinely pleased if you keep it.
Everyday life
Things go well and you start dating
● His love language is definitely quality time. He finds peace in just sitting near you while you both do your own thing. You'll catch him just watching you. Not in a creepy way, just memorising all of your features.
● He's surprisingly precise about his hair. You'll catch him in the bathroom mirror for 10 minutes trying to get one specific piece to sit exactly right.
● The longer you date, the worse his puns get. He uses humour to cope. If he's had a bad week, you both sympathise with him and become full of dread because you know the jokes are about to be absolutely unbearable to hear.
● He seems like the type to sit there reading a mission report while holding your hand, not even saying a word, but his thumb is constantly stroking your knuckles.
● He has a habit that you find both endearing and persistent. He will make sure you drink enough water, eat enough, get outside at least once a day, sleep enough. He is unbelievably determined when it comes to you taking care of yourself.
● He has zero respect for what you’re actually doing when the urge to hug you hits. If you’re trying to type an email or cook dinner, he will weave himself around you anyway. He knows he gets in the way because he's a big guy, but he doesn't care.
Mornings and nights
Waking up and going to sleep with him
● He'd definitely be a bit of a night owl. You'd wake up at 2am and see him just watching TV all the time. When he can't sleep, he finds that forcing himself gets him absolutely nowhere, so he just does what he wants until he gets some sort of sleep. His job and all his PTSD has given him pretty bad insomnia.
● If he wakes up from a nightmare, he won't tell you. He’ll just gravitate toward you in his sleep, tucking his face into the crook of your neck as if to remind himself that you’re real and safe.
● He loves playing with your hair until you fall asleep every single night. It relaxes you and gives him something to do with his hands. He's not used to sitting completely still, one of the reasons why he struggles to sleep.
● If you have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or get some water, he is instantly awake. He's not suspicious of you, it's just his active brain. He'll wait until you get back in bed for his breathing to fully even out again.
● He isn't a "jump out of bed and make pancakes" guy. He’s a "stay in bed for an extra twenty minutes staring at the ceiling and holding you" guy. He loves the quiet moments where the world hasn't started demanding things from him yet. But, he'll still make you pancakes if you want him to when he actually gets up.
● If he actually goes into a deep sleep, expect to wake up to him practically crushing you. If he's fallen into a deep sleep, he's shockingly heavy. He'll have an arm thrown over your waist that feels like a weighted blanket. And he won't let you move it.
Bad days
You both have many, bad, heavy days.
● His bad days are heavy because they're riddled with guilt. He's always had pretty bad survivors guilt. He feels like he shouldn't have made it out of Raccoon City. On his worst days, you’ll find him staring at nothing for long periods. It’s like he’s rewatching a movie of his past in his head. He gets very quiet, and his movements become mechanical.
● He might subconsciously pull away or spend the evening in another room because he feels like his "darkness" shouldn't touch you. He thinks he’s protecting you by being distant, but he really just needs to be reminded that he’s allowed to be human and that he isn't "tainted" by what he's seen.
● He is an incredible listener. If you need to vent, he will sit there with his full attention on you, never interrupting, never judging. He’s seen the worst of humanity, so nothing you say will scare him. He’ll just pull you into his lap afterward and let you hide your face against his shoulder until you feel steady again.
● During bad days, he tends to punish himself subtly by not taking care of himself. You happily cook him meals, help him bathe, maybe go on a walk with him. He's very hard on himself, and you both take care of him and try to bring him back.
● If your bad day leaves you too exhausted to take care of yourself, he will quietly take over. He’ll make sure you eat, bring you water, and gently guide you through a routine to help you get better, reciprocating the care you show him on his own difficult days.
Life when he's away
Your life when he's away on missions
● His missions are sudden. One minute he's helping you with dinner, and the next, his phone pings and his entire posture shifts. He can't give you details about where he's going or what he's doing, but he always takes a long, quiet moment to hold you at the door before he walks out.
● He deliberately leaves small, comforting pieces of himself around the living room. He might leave his favourite worn-in hoodie on the back of a chair, or "forget" to put away a specific book he was reading. He likes knowing his presence stays in the room even when he isn't there.
● Before he walks out the door, he double checks everything regarding your security. He will quietly double check the window locks, make sure the door lock works perfectly, and remind you to keep the porch light on.
● The last hug at the door is always the longest. He’ll wrap his arms around you tightly and bury his face into your shoulder or the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent to memorise it.
● On nights when the anxiety gets particularly heavy, you find comfort in the things he does when he's home. You might put on a movie he likes just for the background noise, or make sure you drink the exact amount of water he’d usually badger you about. Taking care of yourself becomes a way of honouring him while he's not there to do it for you.
● You know he's skilled and you know he can handle himself, but you can't stop lying awake at night, worried if he's alive or not. There's so much danger in his job, and he can't tell you where he's going. You don't know if it's the deadliest mission of his life or something simple.
● When he first gets home, he’s a bit of a ghost. He’ll walk into the kitchen, stare into the fridge for five minutes, and forget why he’s there. He needs to be tethered back to reality.
● For a little while, you only really have what's left of all the energy he spent on the mission, but you take care of him the same way he would you, and eventually, he comes back mentally and you’ll notice the exact moment his eyes lose that distant, survival-mode glaze and truly focus on you again.
Intimacy (NSFW)
What it's like being intimate with him
● He'd definitely talk you through it. I don't make the rules. "Don't close your eyes. Look at me. I want you to see exactly who’s doing this to you." "Yeah, say my name. I want to hear it again. I want to know you know exactly who you belong to right now." "That’s it. You’re taking it so well for me. You’re being so good." "Tell me how that feels. Does it feel good? Yeah?" I could make a list of all the things he'd say.
● He’s heavy, and he knows it. He’ll use his size to pin you down. Not to be aggressive, but because he wants to feel the maximum amount of contact and he wants you to feel him.
● He’s usually a bit self-conscious about the scars on his back and shoulders from Raccoon City and his various missions. If you touch them or kiss them, it completely undoes him. He’ll go quiet, his breath hitching, and he’ll pull you closer and hide in your neck.
● He definitely has some hard limits, like cop/criminal or interrogating role play. It feels too much like a Tuesday at work for him. He wouldn't do weapon play or anything like that. Even if it's unloaded or on safety or just for show, he’s seen too many accidental deaths and has used weapons to kill many things. For him, weapons are a tool for death, not something he'd put you around.
● He never shuts up. He'd talk to you throughout the whole thing, praising you, teasing you, and narrating exactly how you’re reacting to him until your ears are ringing as much as your head is spinning. Even when you’re breathless and trying to lose yourself in the sensation, he’s right there. When you finally go over the edge, he just pulls you closer, his voice in your ear. "That’s it. Just like that. I’ve got you." He forces you to maintain eye contact with him throughout the whole thing.
● I also think sometimes he lets you be in control if you ask to. (He says he's letting you "for now," but he actually really enjoys it). He's also vocal. He doesn't leave you guessing. If he likes what you’re doing, you’re going to hear it. He’ll groan, whimper, moan, or breathe your name like it’s a prayer. He knows that his vocal reactions are a reward for you, and he isn't shy about giving them.
● He likes leaving faint marks. Bruises on your hips from where his hands held you tightly, or a hidden bite mark on your shoulder. If you leave scratches on his back or shoulders, he wears them like a badge.
● When it comes to aftercare, he isn't passive. He is the type to immediately bring you a glass of water without you needing to ask. He appreciates the quiet task of bringing a warm towel to clean you up, treating it as a slow routine to help you both wind down. He will press slow, lazy kisses to your forehead, temples, and jawline, whispering low, gentle praises like "You did so good for me" or "I've got you, you're safe." His hands are never still. He’ll trace faint patterns on your back or play with your hair, relying on constant physical connection to anchor himself in the moment.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed ♡ I feel awful right now, I'm pretty sure it's just my period (unfortunately), so I'm sorry if this isn't the best, I feel really sick rn 😭
