HC Preferences: Resident Evil Boys x Reader Taking Care Of Them
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♂️Male Characters:
Leon S. Kennedy
Chris Redfield
Albert Wesker
Carlos Oliveira
Piers Nivans
Jake Muller
Jack Krauser
Luis Sera
HUNK
Karl Heisenberg
The Merchant
Glenn Arias
Billy Coen
Zeno Wesker
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Leon S. Kennedy
At first, Leon brushes off your care with self-deprecating jokes like "I'm fine, really. I've survived worse than a scraped knee," but he secretly melts when you insist.
He has massive guilt from constantly putting himself in danger, so when you patch him up or make him coffee after a nightmare, he gets quiet and stares at you like you're a miracle he doesn't deserve.
Physical touch while being cared for, such as you washing his hair or massaging his shoulders, makes him close his eyes and sigh deeply; he's touch-starved from years of isolation.
He pretends to hate "being babied," but if you try to stop, he gives you those puppy-dog eyes and mumbles, "Wait... don't go yet."
Homemade meals hit him hardest; he eats like a man who forgot what real food tastes like on missions, then pulls you into a hug afterward, whispering thanks.
When you're bandaging his wounds, he watches your focused face and thinks about how you're the one stable thing in his chaotic life.
He reciprocates by being overly protective of you, but in quiet moments, he lets himself be vulnerable and lean on you.
Cuddling after you force him to rest? He turns into a clingy koala, burying his face in your neck and muttering that he could get used to this.
If you're running a bath or forcing him to sleep, he teases you about being his "personal medic," but his voice cracks with genuine gratitude.
Deep down, your care is slowly healing his burnout, he starts smiling more genuinely and even takes fewer unnecessary risks because he has someone waiting at home.
Chris Redfield
Chris is the ultimate "I can handle it" guy, but when you take care of him, he softens instantly; big tough soldier turns into a teddy bear.
He loves when you cook hearty meals; after missions, he eats seconds and thirds while telling you it's the best thing he's had in months.
Getting shoulder rubs or ice packs for his sore muscles? He groans in relief and pulls you onto his lap, insisting you stay there.
He worries about being a burden due to his absences, so your gentle insistence on caring for him reassures him that you're in it for real.
Post-mission, if you help him shower or change bandages, he gets emotional, quiet tears while he holds your hand.
He brags to his team about how amazing you are at taking care of him; of course in a proud, lovesick way.
He repays the favor tenfold; cooking breakfast in bed or carrying you around when you're tired; but he secretly prefers when you pamper him.
Cuddles are mandatory; he wraps his massive arms around you and sighs contentedly when you play with his hair.
If you're forcing him to rest, he grumbles playfully but complies because "you're the boss."
Your care reminds him there's life beyond fighting; he starts prioritizing home time more because of it.
Albert Wesker
Wesker initially scoffs at "needless coddling"; he's superior, after all but your persistence intrigues him.
When you prepare precise, high-protein meals tailored to his enhanced body, he raises an eyebrow in quiet approval.
He allows you to adjust his coat or smooth his hair only because it amuses him... and because your touch feels oddly grounding.
Wound care? He lets you do it with clinical detachment at first, but his glowing, fiery eyes soften when you worry.
He finds your concern both inefficient and strangely addictive; he starts "accidentally" coming home injured more often.
If you draw him a bath or insist on rest, he lounges dramatically while lecturing you... but doesn't actually stop you.
Your care challenges his god complex; he begins viewing you as a rare equal who can "handle" him.
He reciprocates with calculated gifts or protection, but never admits he enjoys being fussed over.
In private, he might lean into your touch longer than necessary, murmuring that "perhaps humanity has its merits."
Ultimately, your nurturing becomes one of the few things that makes him feel something beyond cold ambition.
Carlos Oliveira
Carlos absolutely eats up the attention. He grins like an idiot whenever you fuss over him.
He calls you his "personal angel" and dramatically flops onto the couch for you to pamper him.
Homemade food? He devours it and showers you with compliments and kisses.
If you're patching him up, he flirts the whole time: "Careful, doc, your bedside manner is dangerously hot."
He loves when you run your fingers through his hair or give him massages, he melts and gets all soft.
He worries about dragging you into his dangerous life, so your care makes him feel worthy of love.
He repays by being super affectionate; constant hugs, carrying you, spoiling you right back.
Post-mission cuddles are his favorite; he holds you tight and whispers how much he missed this.
If you're forcing him to rest, he pretends to resist but secretly loves being "taken care of."
Your nurturing makes him more open emotionally, he starts sharing fears he never told anyone.
Piers Nivans
Piers is quietly grateful; he's used to putting others first, so someone caring for him feels new and warming.
He blushes when you tend his wounds or make him tea, mumbling "You don't have to..." but never stops you.
He loves simple acts like you cooking or laying out clean clothes, he sees it as true partnership.
All those physical care like hair pets and back rubs makes him relax in a way missions never allow.
He opens up more during quiet moments of care, sharing stories from his BSAA days.
He reciprocates fiercely; always checking on you, protecting you but cherishes when roles reverse.
If you're insisting he rest, he complies with a soft smile: "Only because it's you."
Cuddling? He holds you like you're precious, breathing you in after long days.
Your care helps him cope with trauma, he starts sleeping better with you around.
He tells you quietly one day that you're the best thing that's ever happened to him.
Jake Muller
Jake acts tough and brushes off care at first "Jeez, Y/N. I don't need babysitting", but he secretly craves it.
When you patch him up or cook, he grunts thanks but watches you with softer eyes.
He melts during physical affection with his head on your lap, you running fingers through his hair.
Your insistence on him resting makes him feel safe for the first time in years.
He starts letting his guard down more, even joking about you being his "handler."
He repays by being protective and surprisingly sweet in private.
If you're caring for him post-fight, he pulls you close and mutters that he doesn't hate this.
Deep down, your nurturing heals his abandonment issues, he starts trusting you fully.
He gets clingy when tired, wrapping around you like he never wants to let go.
Your care makes him want to be better; not just survive, but live for someone.
Jack Krauser
Krauser growls that he doesn't need "pampering," but he doesn't pull away when you insist. Yes, he wouldn't pull away at all; being the stubborn oaf that he can be sometimes.
He secretly enjoys when you tend his scars or wounds, your gentle touch contrasts his harsh life.
He lets you fuss over him in private only, grumbling the whole time but leaning into it.
Homemade meals surprise him; he eats quietly, then pulls you in for a rough kiss as a form of gratitude.
Massages or hair play? He closes his eyes and relaxes more than he'd admit.
Your care softens his edges, he starts seeing you as his one weakness worth having.
He reciprocates with intense protection and rare tender moments.
If you're forcing rest, he smirks and says "Fine, but only if you stay right here."
Cuddles turn possessive, he holds you tight like you're his anchor.
Deep down, your nurturing makes him feel human again after years of being a weapon.
Luis Sera
Luis starts with his signature flirtatious charm, teasing you like "Mi amor, you trying to make me soft?" but he absolutely soaks up every bit of attention.
He dramatically flops back when you patch his wounds, winking and saying "Be gentle, doctor. I'm delicate," even though he's grinning through the pain.
Your homemade meals blow him away; he eats with exaggerated moans of delight, then pulls you close for a kiss, murmuring "This is better than any cigarette."
He loves when you fuss over his hair or adjust his coat; he leans into it with a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded in contentment.
Post-mission, if you force him to rest, he complains playfully but stays put because your worried look makes his heart flip.
He reciprocates with over-the-top romance like flowers, poetry, surprise gifts, but secretly craves your quiet, steady care more than anything flashy.
Nightmares hit him hard; when you hold him and whisper reassurances, he clings tighter than he'd ever admit.
Massages or running a bath? He melts completely, turning into a purring, affectionate mess who won't let you leave his side.
Your nurturing reminds him of a life worth fighting for; he starts being more careful on jobs because he has you to come home to.
Deep down, he feels like he doesn't deserve this kindness, but your persistence makes him believe maybe he can be more than just a charming rogue.
HUNK
HUNK is all business at first. Silent nods when you offer care, like "Unnecessary, but proceed." But he never actually stops you.
When you clean and bandage his wounds with precision, he watches intently, impressed by your efficiency (and secretly warmed by the concern).
He eats your prepared meals methodically, then quietly says "Adequate nutrition. Appreciated.", basically his version of high praise.
Physical touch is rare for him, so when you smooth his shoulders or fix his gear, he freezes for a second before relaxing minutely.
He worries your care could make him "soft," but he finds himself returning home faster after ops just to see you.
If you're insisting on rest, he complies without argument; sits still while you hover, mask still on but posture less rigid.
In private, he lets the mask come off more often around you, allowing small vulnerabilities like leaning into your touch.
He repays subtly; extra protection, leaving supplies for you, but your nurturing is the one thing that pierces his stoic shell.
Cuddles are awkward at first (he stiffens), but he eventually wraps an arm around you like it's tactical support.
Your care humanizes him after years of being a ghost, he starts valuing downtime and even cracks the rare, dry joke about "mission: recovery."
Karl Heisenberg
Karl laughs it off at first, "What, you think the big bad lord needs coddling?" but he doesn't push you away when you insist.
He dramatically presents injuries like trophies for you to fix, smirking while you work: "Careful, sweetheart, don't want to ruin the masterpiece."
Your cooking surprises him; he devours it with gusto, then pulls you onto his lap: "Damn, you trying to domesticate me?"
He loves when you play with his hair or massage his tense shoulders; grumbles about it but leans back with a contented growl.
Forcing him to rest? He resists with sarcasm but caves when you give him that look, muttering "Fine, but you're staying."
Your gentle care clashes with his rough worldview; he starts seeing you as the one "strong" thing worth protecting.
He reciprocates chaotically; builds you gadgets, shields you fiercely, but secretly adores being fussed over in private.
Post-fight cuddles turn intense; he holds you like metal to his magnet, whispering that you're his real power source.
Your nurturing chips at his lone-wolf armor, he opens up about Miranda, vulnerabilities he hides from everyone else.
Ultimately, it makes him want freedom not just from her, but for a life where he can come home to someone who cares.
The Merchant
The Merchant chuckles mysteriously at first "Got somethin' special for ya, stranger". He'll definitely be way too chill to let you fuss without protest.
He appreciates practical care: you sharpening his tools or prepping supplies earns a rare, approving "Heh, good eye."
If you cook for him, he samples with theatrical flair, then nods: "A fine trade, worth more than pesetas."
He enjoys when you adjust his coat or hat, stands still like a statue, but his eyes soften behind the shadows.
Wound tending? He guides your hands with gloved ones, murmuring "Steady now... that's the ticket."
Rest is a foreign concept, but when you insist, he lounges dramatically: "Only 'cause the customer's always right."
He reciprocates with "gifts" such as rare items, protection in shadows; but your care is the real treasure he hoards.
Quiet moments: he lets you lean against him, cloak enveloping you both like a secret shop.
Your nurturing makes him linger longer in one place; he starts appearing more often just to see you.
Deep down, the wandering merchant finds a "home" in your attention, he values it more than any deal.
Glenn Arias
Arias politely yet devilishly smiles at your concern; "You think a little care will fix what's broken in me?", but he allows it with dark amusement.
He watches you tend wounds with cold fascination, grey eyes tracking every gentle move.
Your meals intrigue him; he eats precisely, processes then with an almost warm smile comments "Efficient... and unexpectedly palatable, darling."
Physical touch unnerves him at first; he tenses, but he starts craving the contrast to his vengeful life.
Forcing rest? He lounges like a king, lecturing you on humanity's flaws while secretly relaxing.
Your care stirs old memories of loss, he gets quieter, more contemplative around you.
He repays with calculated protection and rare, intense affection; but never admits he needs this.
In private, he might pull you close, murmuring that you're the one variable he didn't account for.
It challenges his hatred against the world; he starts questioning if "resetting" the world means losing you too.
Ultimately, your nurturing becomes his secret weakness; the one thing keeping a shred of humanity alive.
Zeno Wesker
Billy Coen
Billy brushes off care at first "I'm fine, really", but his eyes soften when you persist.
He melts when you patch him up, mumbling thanks with a shy grin from his rough past.
Homemade food hits hard; he eats slowly, savoring it like freedom he almost lost.
Shoulder rubs or hair pets make him sigh deeply, he's touch-starved from years on the run.
He worries about endangering you, so your gentle insistence reassures him he's worth it.
He reciprocates protectively; always checking on you, but loves when you take the lead in care.
Post-escape cuddles? He holds you tight, breathing you in like an anchor.
If you're forcing rest, he complies with a soft "Alright, boss," smiling faintly.
Your nurturing helps heal his guilt, he starts sleeping easier with you nearby.
He tells you quietly you're the reason he fights to stay alive, not just survive.
Zeno regards your care with detached curiosity "Intriguing... a human impulse toward weakness.", but doesn't refuse. Unlike Wesker, Zeno may give you a chance to provide him gentle care, without any symptom of getting offended over being taken care of.
He allows wound tending with clinical interest, shade-covered eyes watching your focus intently.
Meals are analyzed; he eats methodically, then notes "Sustenance optimized. Acceptable."
Touch surprises him; he stiffens, but lingers longer than necessary, processing the warmth.
Rest? He reclines like it's an experiment, murmuring about "futile comforts" while relaxing.
Your nurturing clashes with his Connections programming; he starts questioning his "superior" design.
He repays with calculated intensity; protection, secrets shared, but craves your gentleness privately.
In vulnerable moments, he removes the shades, letting you see the flicker of something human in those golden eyes of his (if I'm correct, he did have golden eyes when he still had his powers).
It stirs buried echoes of Wesker's arrogance turned to doubt, he sees you as a flaw he doesn't want fixed.
Deep down, your care makes him feel less like a clone and more like something worth saving.
┆ - ۫ ׅ "Would you miss me if I died?" "I always miss you."
Your Leon's partner for his mission to rescue the president's daughter, you unexpectedly run into someone when you and Leon split ways.
⸝⸝ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthis is part one - 𝓛eon Kennedy x fem!reader
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnow playing - Your Love by She Wants Revenge
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻
╰┈➤ ｡ content & warning(s) : Reminder! This is just part one of a large fic (idea) I came up with last night. established relationship: you and Leon are strictly partners... or are you? Angst mixed with fluff, some funny parts. This takes place in RE4, sassy!leon, yearning!leon (?), protective!leon, jealous!leon, sassy!reader, reader with a personality (you do NOT need protecting), Luis being Luis, Implied Luis x reader, Luis flirting with you, Lara Croft type of reader (?), No y/n, just [name].
word count: 3,477
author's note: there MIGHT be a few grammar issues, so pwease forgive me. I thought to get this out of my drafts because... it has Luis in it, and I love Luis, I'm planning on making the second part 3k words or more to make up for this being short, teehee ( ᴗ ̫ ᴗ )
summary / synopsis : You and Leon are assigned as partners on another mission to rescue the president's daughter, Ashley. You two thought it would be a simple mission, boy, how wrong both of you were. You decided to go your separate ways, and you met a Spaniard named Luis, who gets you in trouble, and Leon doesn't like that.
It was simply another night for you. You were going to get ready for bed after working all day, and you had just gotten back from a long mission that had simply exhausted you of your patience. unlocking your apartment's door as you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you as you sighed, placing your bag down, letting it drop with a small thud.
Your apartment was an utter mess, papers after papers, layering over each other on the walls; you hadn't bothered to take down your old research and merely stuck new research on top of the old ones over and over again, as they never saw another day of light.
God knows how long it's been since you actually cleaned out your cluttered apartment; it's probably been months now. walking past your recent research as you placed your phone down on your nightstand, taking off your dirty clothes as you threw them into the dirty basket that was almost full of clothes again.
Walking to your small bathroom, lazily opening the door as you catch your reflection in the mirror, how odd. You squinted your eyes, grabbing your hair as you threw it over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your lower back. Yet to no help, you couldn't see it, you could've sworn you'd seen small black blotches or... bruise-like marks.
How odd. Maybe it was just in your imagination, quickly brushing it off as you stepped towards the shower, turning the water on as you waited for it to get hot, waiting for the steam to show. picking at your nails silently, until, eventually, you stepped inside, the hot water hitting your tense body.
Yet, the hot water felt cold on your body, like someone threw a cold bucket of water on you. You stood there silently as the water draped over you like a blanket. You hadn't realized you were spacing out again until you remembered a rather embarrassing memory, snapping out of your daze as you shuddered.
Nonetheless, you quickly took your shower, and it only took twenty minutes as you eventually stepped out, your feet hitting the cold floor as you grabbed a towel and wrapped yourself with it, not bothering to tie your hair up as you stepped out of the blanket, making it past your research as you settled down on your messy bed.
The once soft mattress felt hard under your weight, as if you had been sleeping on a rock for countless nights, as you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, checking the notifications as it surprised you, seeing large amounts of missed calls that weren't there before.
How long were you in the shower? You could've sworn you were only in there for twenty minutes at best, but deciding to quickly get dressed and dry your hair quickly, it was still damp before your phone rang. The noise startled you. Was your phone at full volume?
It was probably just some random person calling you over and over again, a wrong number perhaps. You were going to have a normal night, or well—
—It was just supposed to be another night, but you got assigned to a mission in Spain with Leon to save Ashley Graham. You were forced into another mission after just getting back from one. But you pushed off your tired act, forcing yourself to work again. Both of you thought nothing of it when you were assigned together, since you were frequently assigned to missions concurrently, so here you were, in a bumpy car ride with Leon and two local officers. green surrounded the car as the night sky barely shone through the leaves.
giving it an almost dead look. It was quiet during the entire ride before one of the officers eventually spoke up; you hadn't bothered to listen in on the conversation between him and Leon. Mostly focusing on the odd surroundings, there was no sign of life anywhere. How strange. You only snapped out of your daze when the car suddenly halted.
Arriving at the odd destination, it gave off a very eerie vibe.
You decided not to comment much, but one of the officers stepped out to take a 'leak.' You watched the two exchange words as you and Leon mostly remained silent. Neither of you took the cigarette that the man had offered you as he shrugged his shoulders, pulling out a lighter as he lit a cigarette.
Minutes had passed ever since the first officer had left, showing no sign of returning, as the other officer messes with the radio for a few moments before turning it off with a huff, as you and Leon remained quiet in the back seat. Leon was watching on to how utterly still it was outside of the car, as if the only safety was in the vehicle.
It was too quiet. That's the first thing that caught your attention. There's no sign of life anywhere, no wildlife, people, nothing. just... a dead yet gloomy atmosphere. The silence was soon interrupted. " He sure is taking his time. Did he fall in? " the officer commented, looking out the open window as smoke came out of his nostrils.
Looking in the rear view mirror as he spoke up again, his gaze turned on Leon's figure, " Maybe you should go and take a look? " addressing Leon as the man huffed at the other's words, opening the car door and stepping out before pausing, looking back at you, " You coming? " Leon quietly asked, looking at you with an almost expectant look as you shook your head.
" I'll stay back for now. " Your words seemed to dampen Leon's mood, seeming almost... disappointed that you weren't coming with him before he looked away quickly, shutting the car door as he walked where the officer had gone off to with the officer in the car, commenting, " I'll stay here, wouldn't want to get a parking ticket. " you could only watch as Leon commented a snide remark under his breath as he walked away to where the officer had went.
leaving you and the officer behind in the small comfort of the vehicle as it remained quiet, nothing filling up the awkward silence aside from the crickets and the car engine making noise. god knows how much time had passed before you sighed, shaking your head. How long does it take to get one officer?
The silence was almost overbearing. Taking a glance outside, hoping to see Leon's familiar figure, you saw nothing but darkness. It was doing nothing to ease your unease about the current situation; something was so odd about this location, but you couldn't put your finger on it.
You tried not to think much about it, maybe you were overthinking, and they were taking their time. Yet as time went on, your gut feeling grew even worse, tapping your finger on your thigh as you took a look outside, seeing nothing but the darkness again.
You quickly opened your door as you bluntly spoke up, " I'm going to look for them, " not bothering to wait for the man's response, as you shut the car door from behind you. Once you were finally outside, the cold air hit your skin, just a small breeze; it was almost comforting, but you shook your head quickly, closing your eyes for a moment to take a deep breath, and you walked in the direction where Leon and the officer had gone off.
The soles of your boots hit the muddy ground, making light splashing noises as you stepped into a small puddle of water. It was darker than you had expected it to be. And aside from that, it was quite messy, a sight you hadn't expected to see, but it was there, unfortunately. After a few minutes of walking on the same path, " Where did they go off to? " you lowly complained under your breath.
You hadn't seen Leon's figure at all, but you did see footsteps, assuming that they were his. You followed them carefully, annoyed by the large amount of mess, crouching down a few times, being careful not to catch your shirt in the wire, standing back up as you let out a sigh. You really hoped you weren't getting lost.
You paused in your step when you heard the rustling of something. catching your full attention as you quickly looked around, trying to catch sight of a shadow, yet you saw nothing, you could feel the gaze of someone watching you closely, yet with how dark it was, you couldn't pinpoint where it was from.
Something screamed in your body that you weren't alone; that much was obvious. Nothing about this mission was going to be easy; that was clear enough for you. You quickly pulled out your gun as you rushed off in the open path, hoping to find Leon and the officer soon.
You eventually made your way across a small lodge, carefully stepping inside as you peeked your head in, seeing blood spattered a few steps away from you, alerting you to danger. Investigating the lodge as quietly as you could before you stepped into a room, seeing the utter mess in there, you let out a small groan.
As you searched the odd room, you found the badge of the officer with blood on it. Well, that didn't look like tomato sauce, that's for sure, dropping the badge on the floor, well, now you knew that Leon was in danger, or god knows what that man is in right now.
So there you were, trying to see if you could find a way out without making too much noise or drawing attention to yourself, eventually making it upstairs and into a smashed-open room, settling your sight on the broken window, which definitely screamed dramatic, most likely Leon. Before your attention was caught by the wall, seeing the map with pictures surrounding it.
The girl was here, no doubt about it now. But you still needed to catch up with your partner. Deciding to go the same route as he did, you quickly looked around, making sure you won't miss anything important, as you eventually jumped out of the window, landing on the ground, and you stood up, scanning the area before you rushed towards the only path you saw.
hoping to see Leon's familiar figure, yet you saw nothing as you continued down the unfamiliar path. As you ventured down, you heard rustling from behind you, holding up your gun as you turned around, your eyes swept over your surroundings before your eyes landed on a figure hiding behind a bush, very poorly.
" You are terrible at hiding, " you called out to the person, still holding your gun up and not lowering your guard as a figure emerged from the bushes, holding his hands up, " okay- okay, you caught me, my apologies, señorita. " The Spaniard held his hands up, trying to appear as defenseless as he could, clearly meaning no harm.
The first guy you meet in this creepy forest was a creep itself. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, then. lowering your gun as you glared daggers at the Spaniard, not trusting the man whatsoever, yet, did you really have a choice? He was the only person you've seen so far since leaving the car.
" Do you regularly stalk people, or is it your part-time job? " you commented, earning a light chuckle from the Spaniard. He seemed... amused by your comment as if you two were long-term friends meeting again instead of total strangers. " I'm not gonna hurt you- you can trust me.. but I got a quick but important question. "
You lowered your gun in confusion, and the man took that initiative to speak up, " You got a smoke? " You sighed. Was he being serious? " Got gum. " you curtly replied, turning away as you started to walk away from the man, but he immediately spoke up, " Wait- wait! I can help you, and you can help me, eh? Think of it as a partnership! " The man quickly rushed up to you, walking by your side as he continued with his ramble.
You finally paused in your step, looking at the man with an 'are you serious?' look. He was practically pleading for a partnership rather than proposing one to you. You sighed in disbelief, wondering how you could've met someone like him. " I have no use for being your partner. Why would I accept your offer? " you asked simply, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. He immediately had the opportunity to explain himself as soon as you gave him the opening.
" Look... you're looking for someone, eh? I can help you find them, a girl perhaps? We could make a good partnership, consider it, Chica hermosa. " The man quietly offered, his body close to yours, your breaths mingling with each other, you had no way of trusting him yet... his words made you perk up with interest.
" I don't even know who you are. How can I trust you? " you curtly pointed out the obvious as he chuckled at your tone of voice, " Ah.. my apologies, señorita. I'm not usually this forward, but I suppose you made me come out of my element. " You paused at his words. Was he seriously trying to flirt with you right now?
Your bodies were inches apart from each other, but he took the courtesy to step away once he realized he had interested you in his offer, " Luis Serra. Don't forget it, eh? I'd hate to have a pretty girl like you forget my name. " you were unimpressed by his flirts, giving him a flat look as he laughed at your expression.
Before you could say anything back, both of you heard a branch snapping, alerting you both; you two looked at your surroundings and saw a tall man emerging from the trees, taller than you both. even as you shot him in the head two times, the bullets rang out, and only his hat flew off.
well shit.
Leon had just finished fighting the villagers, the bell had suddenly rung out, drawing them away mysteriously, so utterly confused on the sudden switch up, but as soon as everybody had left, Leon let down his guard, letting out a sigh as he moved through the rather messy village, he could've sworn that he heard a gun rang out nearby when he was fighting.
He dismissed it as nothing before he suddenly remembered his partner, you. Leon paused as he was searching a house, instantly becoming worried, you were staying at the car... were you okay? Leon couldn't go back even if he wanted to, cursing himself and hoping that you were okay, trying not to worry so much about you, trying to distract his mind with the mission, yet even as he tried his best to dismiss it, he was worried sick over you.
Leon entered a house that was near the village. As soon as he entered, he heard a sudden banging noise, immediately becoming alert as he moved around the house, seeing a villager banging his axe on the trap door. Leon was confused. trying to sneak up on the villager, yet the man seemed to have heard him somehow.
Leon quickly got rid of the villager, opening the trap door easily as he dropped down to the basement. The darkness engulfed his figure as Leon grabbed his flashlight, turning it on as he held it up, searching the basement before he rounded a corner to see someone moving around in a body bag, letting out a sigh as he knelt and put the flashlight on his shoulder, keeping it still with his head as he undid the ropes on the top.
revealing a man whose mouth was taped, Leon ripped the tape off the man's mouth as the other grunted, " That hurts, you know? " he kept his voice low as he looked at Leon, who was now holding his flashlight in his hand as he spoke, " Seemed like you really wanted to talk. "
" How observant, señor. Now, say- you got a smoke? " The man asked curiously despite his current position, earning a light huff from Leon as he spoke up, " You know, those things will kill you. " to which the man shrugged it off, seemingly a bit disappointed with Leon's answer, but started shifting, " Oh, well, maybe just untie me then? " as he shifted, heavy footsteps, he looked up as the steps grew closer, " ¡Joder! Not this guy!- " He tried to shift away with little success.
Leon immediately got up, shifting his flashlight in his grip as he turned around, his flashlight shining on a tall man, immediately yelling out, " Who are you? " noticing that he kept coming closer, Leon immediately pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man, " Ok, stop right there! " yet even as he said that, the man or whatever he was slapped the gun out of Leon's grip, the gun clinked down to the floor, and then the next minute?
Leon was grabbed by his throat with a tight grip before being thrown like a rag doll towards a stack of crates. The sudden contact was abrupt enough for Leon to pass out immediately as the man walked close to Leon, pulling out a syringe as he injected it into Leon's neck.
When you woke up, you were in a daze, your head was spinning, and you were starting to get tunnel vision. All you could feel was the sting of the ropes holding your hands together, which immediately snapped you out of your daze. Once you remembered what happened, you were talking to a man, and then that thing showed up.
You were looking for Leon.
Yet here you were, distracted and now tied up with most of your gear missing, you looked up to see the light blinding your vision for a moment, letting out a soft groan at that as you tried to move your wrists, but as you tried to move around, it was like the rope was getting tighter on your hands.
lovely. Maybe this was your sign not to talk to anyone in a creepy forest, thinking of that interaction, Luis... was that his name? You couldn't remember the details of your odd interaction with him, but pushing those thoughts aside, you tried to look around for something sharp to cut you out of the ropes.
Your throat was aching from being choked out earlier, and you were sure that you couldn't speak for a moment or so before groaning, unimpressed with your current predicament. How could you get stuck so easily? All because you let your guard down while interacting with that odd man.
Well.
You couldn't do much aside from hanging there like a fish on a hook; your wrists were tightly tied together, ensuring that you wouldn't escape, as you quite literally had nothing on you. You were sure they got you undressed in the process of taking all of your crap. For once, you were defenseless, hanging there like an idiot.
Maybe if you waited long enough, someone would come? Maybe more preferably, your partner who you hoped was still alive and not in some creepy basement with that odd man you met earlier.
So there, you waited, and waited because that's all you could do in your current predicament.
You didn't even know how much time had passed, yet as you were waiting for God knows how long, you heard the door unlocking, immediately piquing your interest as you tried to look up, hoping to catch your partner's familiar face, yet the light was making it difficult for you to see the silhouette.
barely making out the features of the person that unlocked the door to the room you were trapped in before you realized that it wasn't your partner.
How bad was your luck today?
Where was—
—[name]? Leon silently wondered to himself, annoyed by the fact that the Spaniard had left him so easily, but thankfully, he was able to get his gear in the end, making it outside as a rather odd man talked to him. He said he was the merchant; Leon didn't need to trust him, but he was able to sell and buy things from the man.
Leon did have to find you and Ashley soon; he was worried about you. Were you even alive? Yet, pushing those dark thoughts out of his head as he tried to make his way towards the church with the information that Luis had provided him earlier.
He could only hope that you weren't in any sort of danger.
After all, he would much prefer you alive and safe rather than being in danger with a certain Spaniard, besides. It's not like you would actually team up with someone like him, right?
. ౿ Where to? ── masterlist , rulebook , see me .✦
SUMMARY: just horny resident evil blurbs where they're all pussydrunk. <3
PAIRINGS: LEON S. KENNEDY/Reader, LUIS SERRA/Reader, CHRIS REDFIELD/Reader, ALBERT WESKER/Reader, JACK KRAUSER/Reader, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/Reader
WARNINGS: female reader, nsfw themes, PROBABLY inaccurate anatomy, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it folks. ), begging, breeding && Daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry makeup sex, size kink/difference, cervix fucking,
author's note: this is my first post. :) sorry if it's not that flourished . . .
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ NSFW UNDER THE CUT. ┈┈┈┈
LEON S KENNEDY .ᐟ
leon has seen — and will see more — monsters and cruelty beyond human recognition. both you and him think it's a pretty valid reason to not have children yet.
he knows contraceptives and birth control isn't a hundred percent effective, so he always played it safe: cumming on your face, giving you a good throatpie, covering your back and/or tummy with his warm cum . . .
so one could imagine the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your pretty legs around him.
⟡
"baby, fuck! what're you- what're you doing?"
leon snaps from his fucked out haze, eyes suddenly wide and open as he watched you in your familiar fervour. "leon, please, please, Daddy. breed me. want your cum," you begged for it like you needed it; the shiny gloss of your tears only made you look so much prettier, he thinks . . . how could he resist such an angel like you?
"baby, we- we . . " he physically cannot muster that he can't. because can, and he will. the rough snapping of his hips never faltered, mind and body fueled with the need to breed you, to stuff you full until you leaked. "don't pull out—♡.ᐟ "
your begging alone was irresistible, and with the additional hypnotizing vice you had around his girth — the word no didn't even exist in his head. "yeah? y , y'want it that bad?" nod, nod.
you whined when he pulls out, partly from disappointment and feeling empty without him. you thought you'd be triumphant. just as you were about to call for him, however, your knees are pressed against your chest, and the familiar grip on your hips were now on the back of your knees.
it's not the stretch that makes your eyes wide, but the feeling of his tip pressed directly against your cervix. a premature orgasm rips through you and turning your brain into mush. completely, this time; leon was there to witness this, brows furrowed together and resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back so he can see your beautiful face.
his pounding resumes, skin sinfully slapping against skin, cock grazing your most sensitive spots with each needy rut. "i'll fucking breed you, angel. how do you like that?" your legs are high, higher up, now that he's leaning forward to have a closer look on your pretty face.
"Y/N," he chants like a prayer. he needs you like he hasn't needed before, forever and always. "leoooooon, love you — i love you," you sobbed, nails marking crescents on his shoulders, biceps. you feel so fucking full, you can't even think. just him and how good it'd feel to have his semen leaking out of your folds.
"fuuuuck, baby. you're drivin' me crazy. i love you too,"
his hips are aching, but that doesn't stop him from ramming himself completely deep into you. it won't stop him, because all he can think of is to fuck you stupid, fuck you full.
there's nothing coherent that follows, just pure, absolute filth. you're drooling, and leon's tongue is cleaning up your mess, like he's not drooling with you. his orgasm's nearing, thrusts getting noticeably sloppy and unrhythmic, but still forceful; compensating for the lack of speed.
"'m gonna cum, darling. ah—! beg for it. beg for it like a good girl,"
your pleading resonates in the room. if you could emphasize it with a wrap of your legs, you would have done so already. but your legs feel numb. y'can't move, not with his body weight forcing them up.
"pleeeeease, pleasepleasepleaseplease. need it! need'a be bred, please,"
leon would have come up with a witty remark, but all that comes from him is a groan whilst he buried himself balls deep into you. he's not pent up or anything, not even close, but he knows he's cumming lots. because despite being fully sheathed inside you, it's leaking everywhere. he rides out his high with slow, shallow thrusts, cum spilling with every push of his cock.
he's regaining awareness, taking in deep breaths. his eyes glaze over your figure, pretty much in the same state of post-sex euphoria as you. "Y/N," he mutters, letting your legs down slowly. the wince on your face tells him you're awake, and he cups your face.
"Y/N, baby,"
a thumb caresses your cheek. "—talk to me," leon sighs in relief when you grinned at him. "hi, baby," you croaked groggily. leon began to massage your thighs, kissing your neck. "i'm sorry i got carried away," and the night is spent with you cradled by his strong arms and comforted with his usual sweetness.
now, he's left with an addiction for giving you endless creampies.
LUIS SERRA .ᐟ
GIF by entreri
your pleasure comes first before everything.
before he's buried deep and you're stretched out from his cock, your cunt's all soaked and prepped from the amount of foreplay he gives you. it's more than just wanting to prepare you. to luis, it's a requirement. having the taste of your pussy and cum on his lips was mandatory. he can't neglect his prinsesa like this.
why would he deprive you of his tongue? his fingers? he likes taking his sweet, sweet time in watching you crumble into nothing for him, only for him.
⟡
"luis!"
how many times have you creamed and gushed all over your lover's face? you can't recall. you don't even know how long he's been lapping at your cunt, but luis continues to coax out orgasm after orgasm from you.
he basks in your reactions each and every time, peering up at you just to watch you writhe from his tongue, how your body arches when you've reached your sinful crescendo, how your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull while you scream his name . . .
every man has his needs, and it's hard to create balance when the need to taste your pussy and your cum is equally as strong as the need to give his cock some sweet relief; after it's been painfully hard for an hour now. it twitches every now and then, aching for you. your touch. your lips, hands . . . "dios mio, chica," he pulls away to spit on your pretty, glistening cunt. "por favor, bebé. te necesito." he's desperate to relieve this ache, to feel that sweet release, but he just can't stop. too addicted. too drunk.
he compromises, your bliss coming first before his. his tongue laps up at your clit — the sensitive bud all puffy and twitchy from how much he's made you gush for the past hour. you feel so breathless. so lightheaded. still, it didn't stop you from begging your handsome lover. "luiiiis, pleeeease, want your cock."
his response? delving his tongue into your folds; tongue tracing your creamy slit and cleaning up the mess you've made. "shhhhh, prinsesa." luis says with a mouthful of cunt, nose brushing against your clit everytime he tried to clean up every drop of your slick. your wails only grow louder, weakness taking over as your legs close in on him. luis feels his breath hitch in his throat.
not just from the prolonged use of his skilled mouth. but because your thighs crushed him. effectively.
his hands have a mind of its own at this point, because a mere minute had passed, and he had already undone his pants to pull his cock out. his moan reverberates against your cunt, and it only makes you cry out, pulling on greying tresses. you can't think straight anymore. all you can think of is luis . . . .
he's determined to make you cum again, lips latching on to your clit. he's determined to make you fall apart for him again. his stubble rubs against your soft skin, a harsh contrast from his gentleness, but the burn only makes it all the more enjoyable. "cum, bebé," he says, hollowing his cheeks. your legs only tighten involuntarily, too responsive to his stimulation. luis kept his eyes on you, grunting against your pussy as he fucked his fist. he can't help it anymore, mami.
"oh, bebé,"
if only you could see how he desperately fucked his fist. he was such a good lover for you. it can't compare to your cunt, never — but beggars can't be choosers. you were so lost in your own euphoria, you swore you're seeing stars.He just growls against your folds, eager to make you cream on his face again.
neither of you made sense to each other, engulfed with overwhelming bliss that washes over you — and, well, luis's face. it didn't matter, however, as you two knew your bodies and loved each other beyond words. you didn't need to tell him how good he made you feel, when your shaking legs already spoke on your behalf.
as soon as luis feels your juices soak his chin, cheeks, hell, everywhere—he can't help but spill his cum into his hand, high-pitched cries buzzing against your pulsating cunt. he rides out your climax with gentle kisses on your spasming clit, each kiss helping you ride out your high. he found it cute how your body spasmed with every brush of his lips and stubble.
he rises to meet you, lips leaving trails of wet kisses along your body. "bonita," he whispered against your stomach, gently nibbling on the soft flesh. everything is blurry for you, with luis being the only clear picture in your eyes. you bite your lip. he goes higher, 'till ivory meets your hardened bud; fingertips toying with the other. "luiiiis, gimme - gimme kiss," you whined, holding his face. "'m here, prinsesa. i'm here," finally, fucking finally, you and luis are face to face.
"i love youu. love you, baby. i love you so so much,"
"i love you too, mi amor."
you can't help but grin when you feel his cock—still hard and leaking pre—rest against your cunt.
CHRIS REDFIELD .ᐟ
despite how he hulked over pretty much you and . . well, everyone, chris was a gentle giant. or tried his best to be one. it didn't help that he was naturally strong and bigger than you. his whole figure pretty much eclipsed over your frame, with his hand engulfing the entirety of your own, shoulders enough to keep you out of sight from wandering eyes . . . if he didn't keep in mind to handle you gently, he could practically crush you.
mind?
what mind?
"c , chris!"
you pathetically drooled all over his bicep as he pounded you from behind. his whole body weight was on top of you in a caging pronebone, with a headlock to completely lock you in place. "Y , Y/N, my baby girl," he whispered, nipping the shell of your ear. "your cunt feels good. i love you. i love you . . love fucking you," he mutters dumbly as he kept shoving his cock deep into you. you knew he was still—at the very least—still keeping in mind to not crush you, because the bicep arm around your neck barely took your breath away.
his thrusts did.
every push in knocked out the breath out of your lungs, cunt nicely wrapping around his girth. no matter how much prep he gives, you always ended up squirming because the stretch was like no other. it reached places no toy or finger ever could—the tip threatening to bully its way past your cervix.
his head is placed between the nook of your shoulder, breathing heavily against your neck as his stubble grazed over your skin. your skin is littered with bites, especially the shoulder that was within his teeth and tongue''s reach; the outline of his teeth covered in a thin layer of his spit.
you weakly held on to his forearms, feeling yourself creaming around it. but you just can't help it—the drag of his cock against your walls was so fucking heavenly, you could have sworn you saw white for a brief moment.
"p , pretty cunt's all messy, baby,"
chris stammers, shamelessly moaning into your ear and immediately latching on to your earlobe, can't keep his mouth unoccupied for more than a minute. especially if it's you. he can't stop kissing you. can't stop tasting you.
can't stop fucking you.
you were helplessly pinned beneath his body—and you didn't possess half the strength to push him off. it made your cunt twitch thinking about being trapped under him, forced to take the pleasure, forced to take the stretch of your cunt . . .
"f , fuck! don't—don't do that. 'm gonna cum, b , baby,"
"h , huh?"
before you could question him any further, his hips began to pick up the pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin intensified. "pleeaaaasepleaseplease, Y/N," he's acting like you were stopping him from whatever he wanted to do. "please. just let me cum in you. let me breed you. fuck, fuuuck. 'm gonna make you a mama,"
there's no thought behind every word he's spewing, and his body's moving purely on feral instict. "you'd. hnnngh. oh my god—make s , such a good housewife." chris is whimpering, fucking yearning to breed you as he envisions you as his wife. mrs. redfield. you can't speak a word in his filthy rambling, but it wasn't like you had the coherence to butt in. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head and your mouth would be wide open if his arm and bicep didn't mush your cheeks together.
"oh . . oh fuck. fuck. i l , loveee you. love you . . "
he's lost count from how many times he's confessed how much he wants to marry you, how much he loves you, and who actually keeps count, anyway. all it mattered was your pleasure and his as he pounded you into the mattress. "love you too, chris! hnnnng—♡.ᐟ"
there's something with the way you said it, or maybe he's just that in love with you. he can't help it, his arm tightening around your neck as he buried himself deep with a loud whimper of your name. you gasped for air, feeling even more full.
but you didn't get to cum. he doesn't feel the familiar flutter of your walls, or the feeling of you soaking his cock for the nth time. who was he, if he couldn't fuffill your needs?
even in the midst of his overstimulation, he's trying his best to keep thrusting into you. "b , baby. please, need you to cum for me," he breathed out between gasps. "gotta be a good husband. gotta make you cum," like you hadn't been squirting for him since before he had you pinned under him.
"y, you don't have t—!"
your words are knocked out from you as he began to ram into you harder. 'till your ass was red. 'till he's finally breaking the protective barrier of your cervix. 'till you're
"cumming—♡.ᐟ "
your eyes are wide open, mouth agape and dripping with spit. your cunt's helplessly gushing for him, clenching down on him ridiculously tight. "that's it. that's it, baby. such a good baby. you're so fucking m , messy, jesus chriiist,"
your mind's gone, and so is your remaining strength, body completely enervated as your head rests on his arm. nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Chris began to place kisses on his jaw. The sensation of his rough stubble confirms you're awake, albeit feeling very lightheaded and almost dizzy.
you don't know how long you two laid there. It was probably just minutes, but felt like hours, up until chris had pulled away from you. you feel his cum ooze out of your cunt, and you whine.
"shh. shh. 'm here, baby. i'm here,"
chris helps flip you over to your back, and you groggily wrapped your arms around him. "are you alright?" chris caresses your cheek, before bestowing a kiss on your forehead. "i'm here. i'm here. do you want water?"
you shook your head, only pulling him to you. he settles you under his arm, securing you with another muscular arm wrapped atop your body. "did you mean it?" you murmured weakly against his chest. chris only rubbed your back. "i wanted to be a husband?" you can feel the rumble of chris's chuckle. you nod. "of course, baby." chris tilts your chin up, tucking your locks behind your ear.
"i love you so much. i'd love to spend the rest of eternity with you,"
you hid your face, embarrassed. "chriiiis," your boyfriend laughs at your cute reaction. "you're so cheesy," "whaaat, it's true!" you puff your cheeks out. "i'd love to spend the rest of my life with you too . . . "
good. because the ring was just resting nicely in the back of your nightstand's drawer.
ALBERT WESKER .ᐟ
wesker is strict. firm. what he says goes, beyond shadow of doubt. so when he tells you to not run your shoe up his leg, don't do it. There's a disappointed click of his tongue when your disobedience persists, your stilettos rubbing against his shin. "this is a professional dinner, Y/N." you can't see it, but you can feel his eyes piercing daggers into you. "hm?" you blink up at him so deceivingly sweet and innocent. "i know. the food tastes great, no?" you can't help but grin when you see him clench his jaw.
wesker is strict. firm.
but that's because there's nothing he enjoys more than breaking his brat into a drooling, mindless mess.
smack!
"f , four!"
you're settled on wesker's lap, legs parted as per his request ( demand, actually. ).
you held on to your lover's arm for dear life, glancing over at your reddening cunt that Wesker's been leaving harsh spanks on. "are you gonna be good, pet?" you nodded vigorously, trying to hide the fact that your eyes were tearing up from his mean treatment.
"really? I don't believe you."
SMACK!
"i , i promise I won't do it again, sir!" you cried out. shutting your eyes, you braced yourself for the next slap that was to come. But you feel him slide two fingers into you instead. "you're fucking wet." Wesker spat, curling his fingers up. it squelches lewdly, your cream smearing all over his palm. "see?" It's obvious where Wesker was looking, because his other hand ensnares your jaw once he realizes your eyes had rolled back to your skull.
"see?"
you swallowed nervously, nodding. "look at your messy fucking cunt." without any further warnings, he began to ram his fingers knuckle-deep into you. not slow or merciful, no, none of that. hard and forceful, as if to burn a lesson into that mischievous head of yours.
"are you gonna keep acting like a brat?" Wesker growled, squishing your cheeks together with his hand. "no, sir! 'm s , sorry!" Wesker laughed at your pathetic apology, purposefully grazing his palm against your puffy clit. "I could almost feel bad for you." he cooed mockingly. "but this is your fault. the consequences of your actions."
he continued to thrust his fingers—quite inhumanely, one might add—the room filled with the filthy harmony of your whimpers and the squelching of your pretty pussy. you're trying your very best to keep your eyes open, but the best you could do was look down at your soaking folds with a lidded gaze. it didn't help that you could feel your climax quickly building up. "what do you say, slut?" he forces you to stay conscious, tapping your cheek with his four fingers. his thumb instinctively traced your spit-soaked lips. you're no better, parting them as soon as you feel the phalange.
"i'm shooorry! w , won't do it again! i'll — ohmygod — be good!"
your body shakes, a garbled squeal escaping your pretty lips as his fingertips curl up to your most sensitive spots. his gaze is to you, his pretty girl, how gorgeous you looked falling apart on him. Of course, he doesn't miss how you roll your eyes back uncontrollably. Wesker lets this slide, because he adores how fucked out you look.
"look at me. Are you gonna cum, pet?" Wesker tantalizingly grazed the pad of his thumb against your clit. you look so pretty looking up at him with wide eyes as he urges you closer to your climax. "y , yes sir!" you whimpered. "yeah? gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty?" you nodded, and oh my days, the way you held on to his forearm and nuzzled your face into him was so fucking adorable, wesker can't help but feel the warmth spread on his cheeks.
too bad he's still gotta discipline you.
just as you were about to reach that delicious release, you squealed as he harshly pulled his fingers out. It leaves your cunt empty and aching. "bad girls don't get to cum on sir's fingers."
instead, he smacks your cunt again. you clench around nothing, eyes watering as desperation ran through your veins. "pleasepleaseplease," the spanks you once dread, you were now looking for; the infliction on your clit enough to prolong your incoming orgasm.
"wanna cum. please sir, wanna cum. pleasepleaseplease," you tugged on his arm, and wesker lets out a shaky exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. raising his hand, he strikes your cunt again, and you yelped. "you . . you like this, pet?" he won't lie, you're making his facade break."yes! please, please, i just wanna cum," you sobbed, salty tears completing your fucked out look. wesker spanks your cunt again, and again, and agai—
you screamed, with a sinful bliss trickling down your back as you arch. you're gushing everywhere, all from his mere spanking. his head dips to claim your lips, tongue first; and it doesn't surprise you when you feel him slowly stuff your mouth as his tongue elongates.
you suck on it, no matter how messy it made you: chin dribbling with sloppy drool, lipstick smearing everywhere . . . your cheeks hollow, and you groaned when his fingers began to rub figure eights on your clit again. "mffh—!" still overstimulated and aching from your ruined orgasm, your hand encircles his wrist. but you didn't possess half the strength to pry his hand away.
he slides his creamy fingers again back into you again, back to mercilessly fingerfucking you. his tongue only muffles your cries of pleasure, and wesker can't stop literally fucking shoving his tongue down your throat. 'specially when he feels your pussy tighten up as he fills your mouth. it's so filthy, wesker knows he's fucking fantasizing about this for days on end. his cock aches, leaking pre just for you.
only for you.
much to your displeasure, he's emptying your mouth; monstrous tongue retracting and at the very least, allowing you to breathe. "you're gonna cum for me again, pet." he purred, licking the sweat dripping on your cheek.
"i forgive you, pretty. only if you do one thing for me." he nipped at the apple of your cheek, a grin gracing his face. you whined when he pauses, but it was to probably give you time for your mind to function.
"who owns you?"
you feel that flutter in your tummy, and you mutter a soft: "you do . . . "
"sorry, can't hear you. speak up, pet."
and as if to further tease you, his fingers begin its harsh thrusting again. "y , you do!" you said in one breath, in between wails and gasping. "i do, what?" he smirked smugly, chuckling against your cheek. "you— nghggh! you—!" "i . . i what, pet?" "you own me! you own my body!"
and of course, your body knows; cunt quivering for the second time and squirting all over his digits again. "there we go, pretty. oh, your pussy's so messy." his thumb caressed your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. you've been so good for him, he thinks you deserve it.
"there we go. i know, i know. s'too much, isn't it?" his comforting voice is so misleading, like there wasn't a lot of sadistic, unholy thoughts running through his head right now. "shh, shh. you did so well." he kindly helps you ride out your high with gentle strokes of his fingers.
you're exhausted, mass completely resting on his frame as you tried to catch your breath. you huffed when you slowly feel him sliding his fingers out of you, the simplest movements still too much for your poor, overstimulated cunt.
"you did so well,"
you're lucid, for the most part; feeling him turn you around so you would be facing him. He rubbed your curves, tracing the dimple on your lower back.
"sleep, my love. i'll be here."
JACK KRAUSER .ᐟ
you can fight with krauser with just about anything. krauser, with his hot-headedness, and you, with a similar temper and a venomous tongue. your arguments, especially the big ones, always ended up ugly. no matter how many times he held you, kissed your tears away, and apologized and vice versa, it never failed to send you crying or him walking out.
and you don't even know why you both keep coming back to each other. giving each other chances like tomorrow will be any different.
"i fucking hate you. i fucking hate this!"
this was new. krauser's brows narrow together in a scowl. despite the hurl of insults you've thrown at each other, you never . . . you never said that to him.
did you really mean that? did he really lose you this time?
you jabbed a finger on his muscular chest. "i'm fucking tired of you. i'm sick of you being so fucking angry all the time and so fucking possessive and so—!" you only just realized what you said when you saw the hurt look on krauser's face. why did he look so . . . sad? it made your heart sink in your stomach. "say that again," you begin to take a few steps back as krauser's hulking frame loomed over you like an impending doom.
" j , jack, i—,"
your back hits the cold wall, and a pair of muscular arms cage you in place. you couldn't mutter another word when he suddenly threw your body over his shoulder. "hey!" you groaned.
a hand slapped your clothed rear, before the both of your figures disappeared into the darkness of your bedroom.
⟡
"say it again, i fucking dare you!"
you pretty much drooled all over the bed as krauser's big, strong hand held your head down. it made breathing more difficult, movement more restricted, but he was successful in shutting you up—which was probably krauser's goal. each slam of his cock was harder than the last, and your poor body can't keep up with krauser's rough treatment.
"you're jus' a big fuckin' brat." he growled, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust, pinning your wrists behind you. his grip was bruising. crushing, even. and very, very angry. "need'a—oh . . . —fuck some manners into you, clearly." your moans are muffled, and you hear an amused chuckle from behind you; and without warning, he yanks your hair and forced your body to a difficult arch. . you were so beautiful in krauser's eyes.
"y'got somethin' to say, bitch?" the timbre of his hoarse voice is enough to send shivers down your spine; and of course, his pace was more merciless, more . . . . inhumane. how you were still able to form sentences—if you could call it that—you didn't know. "h, haateyouuu!" you grunt out in one breath. "no you don't, baby." both your scalp and body finds relief as he released you. if he hadn't held your hips in place, you would have collapsed on the bed.
there's a lot of shifting behind you that you don't see, up until he forces you to flip and lay on your back. once again, you're met with that stupid shit-eating grin on his handsome, scarred face. before you can even utter an insult, you feel him deep in your fucking guts.
he's amused at your stupefied expression—wide, gorgeous eyes with tears beading at the ends of each strand of lash. your face alone could have sent him into an orgasm, but the fun can’t end so quickly, especially when he wasn't done proving his point. “fuck, baby. you’re so—hnngg—wet,” with that, his rough pounding resumes; the bed creaking with every reckless thrusts he gives you.
"oh, fuck!" you cried out, instinctively reaching out to wrap your arms around him—except, it ends up having both of your wrists pinned above your head. it's quick, and you don't even register it until you realize you had nothing to scratch on. "l , let me g- oh—♡! y, you fucking prick!" "stop fucking talking, you fucking brat!" spiteful is he, his pounding picking up pace and force. it made you dizzy. made your brain mush. made you moan for him louder; and as soon as he sees that pretty tongue lull out, krauser naturally has to spit into it. and you, well, naturally swallow it.
the way you whimpered for him, how your body was so vulnerable for him, and only for him, and so submissive under his mercy . . . it triggers something animalistic in krauser. something primal.
he feels the cold trail of drool drip from the side of his lip, and just as you thought he couldn't fuck into you harder, he was. his tip's literally pressing into your cervix. "you're g , gonna break me—♡!" krauser keeps rutting into you like a starved beast, the pleasure so fucking addicting.
"gonna—," his words are interrupted by low growls and heavy breathing. "gonna fucking ruin you. you're mine," your pussy shouldn't reflexively clamp down on him, but it fucking does, and he loves it. "take it back."
you blink.
. . . huh?
"i didn't —god, fucking stutter. take it back!" "i don't — ahnnn— hate you!" krauser shakes his head. "no, no. t , that's not enough," you squealed when his thumb rolls over your clit. "say you love me," the added sensation makes you scream. "say you fucking love me, please," krauser whined, and you didn't know you liked that until . . now.
"quit fucking around, Y/N!" he impatiently snarled, grabbing your thighs and pushing it to its limit; 'till your ankles were beside your ears. "w , wait—oh fuuuuck—♡!" stars fill your vision as soon as his cock slams back into you. "say you love me, c'moooon, don't be fucking stubborn,"
how could you say it, when each slam of his hips drew out nothing but fucked out whimpers from you? "i love you," yet, he fucked you like he hated you. and you despised the way it made your cunt flutter as it promises both you and him an orgasm.
"yeah? you like that? i love you," as if your folded position wasn't difficult enough, him leaning down to capture your lips just makes you even more breathless. but you kiss him back. your lips yearn for him like air, and the best you could reciprocate it was a mere glide of your wet muscle; to which krauser didn't really mind.
"i love you—! fucking love you, love f , fucking you." he says, thrusts frantic and relentless. "love , , l , love—," you pant, nails sinking into his forearms. "i love . . fuck, fuuuuuck— i love you too—," you've never heard krauser whine that loud, but he does, sloppily thrusting into you as his orgasm takes over; cumming the hardest he's ever been.
"come on, baby. cum for me," he whimpered, face contorting in overstimulated bliss as he continued his thrusts. seeing him this needy and desperate to make you feel good made your stomach flutter. "i love you," he whispered, placing kisses on your temple, on your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.
"s , soooo fucking much,"
the way the tip grazes again and again and fucking again on your most sensitive. deepest parts makes you squeal, makes you wail. only he could reduce you to this whimpering mess. "'m close, baby. right there. don't stop—♡!"
ragged breaths and feral grunts turn into high-pitched whining, krauser's cock aching from pleasure. too much pleasure. but his hips won't stop moving, can't stop driving himself deeper into you. "love you—love youuu," you babbled mindlessly, completely forgetting whatever grievance you held for him, and vice versa. his cock aches. throbs. the sensitivity should be too much, but his hips keep slamming into you.
and judging how he doesn't look any less tired . . . you were in for a long, long night.
CARLOS OLIVEIRA .ᐟ
carlos pretty much worships the ground you walk on. he thinks you're the best thing that has happened to him, and my god, this man will spoil you rotten. the moment his eyes laid upon your gorgeous face, he knew he didn't want to live in cold, cruel, Y/N-less world. after your second date, he's made up his mind. he will marry you, in due time.
for now, he can settle with the domestic life of living together, doing your groceries together, cleaning the house to your favourite songs and slow dancing mid-vacuum.
"hey babe?"
"yeah?"
he switches the vacuum off, the shiny foil atop your night table catching carlos's eye. if he's not mistaken, this was your birth control. upon a closer look, it seemed . . . untouched. was this an old batch? did you forget? he looks over at you, putting away your clothes in the closet.
"babe, it's your birth control pills!" he exclaimed, brows narrowing with concern. "have you been taking them?" it was only when you've finished up your chore did you turn to your boyfriend, looking at your pills, and then at his face. "those are my contraceptives, yes . . and no, why?" the lack of worry in your voice calms carlos a bit, blinking at your nonchalance. "but, babe—," "wait, i haven't told you yet?" your laughter mixes with your words. "told me what?"
you took it upon yourself to close the remaining distance between the both of you, cradling his face with your warm hands. "carlos,"—you reached over for your medication and put them aside. "i've stopped taking birth control, baby. since like, two weeks ago. i thought i told you, but i must've forgotten . . . "
there's so many thoughts running in his head. thinkin' how gorgeous you'd be during your wedding day. when you're finally pregnant and bearing his child. how he'd be calling you his wife and not his girlfriend anymore. how he'd be a husband to you, and a father . .
"—earth to carlos. hellooo?"
"what?"
he blinked, realizing you were waving a hand in front of his face. "you said something about wanting to start a family some day . . it doesn't have to be now, but if it happens, then . . " you shrugged.
what do you mean it doesn't have to be now?
it has to be now.
⟡
he has to plunge his cock balls deep in you now. even if his previous creampies were already leaking out from your pretty hole. he needed to breed you over and over again now. he reveled in the sight of you; with your hair sticking to your skin from how much you were sweating, how your tits bounced with every thrust forward with his hips, how your lips were hanging agape from pure bliss . . you are so, so pretty in his eyes. prettier when you're thoroughly fucked and bred.
carlos could only groan, feeling your cunt twitch around his cock. he kept watching you writhe, kept watching you squirm beneath him because he just fucked you so good—but the squelch reverberating from beneath you catches his attention. hazel eyes begin to trail down your body, down to your pretty cunt where you were the messiest. slick smeared to wherever it could, and your poor clit was puffy from how many times he's ran a thumb over it . . . but that didn't seem to stop him from doing so for the nth time. just to see your legs quiver, to see your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull.
"carlooos—♡," you whined, hips bucking against the sensation. "'m here, mama. jus' let it out," he mumbled in his pussydrunk stupor. seeing how you couldn't even mutter his name properly did things to carlos—fueling his lust was one of them; his grip on the back of your knees become tighter—and the slamming of his hips was more brutal, trying to fuck his cum back in you like he wasn't already doing that for the past hour.
"ah! ahn—you're so rough!" you whimpered, and carlos only lets out a dry chuckle. "h-haah . . i-i have to be. or else you—," his words are abruptly interrupted by a loud groan as he forces his cock as deep as he could, just for emphasis. "you . . won't be knocked up," he whined, balls twitching as it ached to cum into your womb again. "c'mon, mama. get pregnant. fuuuuck, jesus christ—,"
he could feel himself drooling as he ruts into you desperately. "c'mere, cariño," you went from having your knees pressed to your chest to being completely folded in half. his face is buried in your neck, and his hands—no—his arms have moved to cradle your head, his chest taking over for him as your legs rest nicely on his shoulders. his tongue is all over your flesh, lazily lapping up your neck and sweat. the new position has him fucking deeper—literally. feels like his tip was gonna force itself up in your poor cervix. it was suffocating, but. but you craved it. you yearned for it.
you needed it.
his hips were clearly hurting and fatigued, because every brutal slam down into you would result to him grunting and whining. his tongue's cold against your neck, spanish words whispered against it while he busied himself pounding away at your pretty, creamy pussy. nothing was stopping him from breeding you, from stuffing you full, not even the pain that pooled both in his hips and your thighs.
"your pussy’s so goooood, fuck . . love you, i love you. dios . . dios mio, no puedo dejar de follarte. quiero d , dejarte embarazada, mi amor." you couldn't understand his mindless spanish babbling—not with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. "wh , what . . ?" "shh, baby." —it's followed by more spanish muttering that you can't follow. not that there was anythin' going on in that pretty head of yours.
[ god . . oh my god . . i can't stop fucking you. i want to get you pregnant, my love. ]
there was nothing going on in his head, either. just the thoughts of you knocked up—everyone would know you belonged to him, that he fucked you, that you made him a father—it only fueled the never ending lust that he had no strength to resist. "oh my fucking god, baby, fuuuck!" his face scrunches up as he speeds up, and you didn't even know that was fucking possible. your eyes widened, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening 'til it snapped; your orgasm spraying all over yourself and him as you screamed. "so messy, h-haah, f, fuck!" "carlos, m, my cunt—!" you could no longer find the words to say to him, stars filling your vision. you swore you were going to pass out.
your cunt was sensitive, obviously, but carlos was beyond overstimulated—it hurts—his cock hurts after cumming and cumming and cumming in you, but the way your creamy walls hugged his cock was enough compensation. he won't stop. can't bring himself to stop. because everytime his cock slid back into you, your pathetic cunt only squirts in small fountains, dragging out your orgasm and only allowing him to slide in and out of you easily. "gonna cum. 'm cumming," his whines grew sharper, getting higher and higher as his orgasm neared. his hold around your head tightened, and you could only bite and lick at the skin of his chest as his frame practically eclipsed over your frame.
"Y/N—god. 'm cumming. gonna breed you. gonna—g, gonna get you pregnant! dios mio, Tu coño se siente genial—," stuffing your fucking cunt to the fullest, he cried out your name as he came; this was the hardest he's cummed, experiencing heaven as he sloppily rode out his orgasm with shallow, sloppy thrusts. he greedily wanted more, but god, he's sure he can't cum anymore after this. he's not even sure if he can lift his hips to pull out his veiny, girthy cock out of your dripping pussy.
you're barely conscious—so close to passing out when you feel a hand on your cheek, fingers worriedly tapping you awake. "baby?" his voice echoed in your ears, and you opened your heavy lids, vision adjusting to the sight of him. "come back to me," he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses. "carlos." you chuckled weakly. you only just realized that you did pass out, because you don't remember carlos putting down your legs or covering you both with your comforter. "i got worried." carlos lays beside you, pulling you beside him. "slept good?" he teases, and you only grumbled. you feel his stubble graze your brow as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "did i get too carried away?" "you don't say," you both chuckled. "'m sleepy," you mutter, wrapping an arm around him. and the only response you got from him? a light snore. you can't help but laugh to yourself.
end.
A/N: such a wild prompt TT but i hope you enjoyed! thank you to my beta reader, @lafox-chan for proofreading and helping me!
