▪︎☆Christina☆▪︎

23 "A good book is always good, no matter how many times you've already read it"–Osamu Dazai

[thispersoniscrazy]

MASTERLIST: (under editing)

1. One piece

Straw hats

The Heart Pirates

Others

2. Moriarty The Patriot

William James Moriarty

Sebastian Moran

3. Honkai Star Rail

Astral Express

Jarilo-VI

Xianzhou

Penacony

Stellaron Hunters

Amphoreus

4. Bungou Stray Dogs

The Armed Detective Agency

The Port Mafia

Decay of Angels

The Hunting Dogs

[thispersoniscrazy]

"This racing heart of mine" --Leon S. Kennedy

Pairing: RE9!Leon x Young!Ex-Racer!Reader

Content includes: Gender neutral reader; Younger Reader; Reader is an ex-racer; Reader is an agent after quitting racing; Crack; All the mentioned details about cars may not be accurate; Fluff; No use of Y/N

3k words.

Let me know if i missed anything

Author's note: i had to split this into parts because it became way too long and my initial plan of posting this like three days ago is exceeding and then i have another trans reader fic underway T-T.

Will have a part 2 and potentially a part 3 because part two will include some lore about why reader quit racing and some other shit.

Picture taken from pinterest.

RE9! Leon with a young ex-racer!reader, who on the very first day to work, falls late and runs a red light, not knowing that the owner of the very Porsche that they almost crashed into on the way to the HQ would end up becoming their mentor and work partner.

The silence dawning on you after realisation was so loud when Leon refers to the little incident that it made Sherry look between you both like a deer in the headlights. No pun intended.

RE9!Leon with a young ex-racer!reader, who tries to flirt out of the awkward situation but ends up making a very bad racer pun, so bad it actually makes Leon laugh and makes Sherry go take her seventh cup of coffee and it was only 9 a.m. on a Monday. 

She thinks you both would get along just fine.

RE9!Leon with a young ex-racer!reader, who asks him how did he recognise them as the same driver as the one that ran the red light, almost running him over... as if your car wasn't wrapped in a wrap so fucking iridescent that you might as well be driving a fucking mini-sun through the streets.

He might as well have mistaken the flash of light bolting at him for the grim reaper in broad daylight. The idea of your car itself was probably invented before the word flashy was ever thought of.

If Leon's weapon was a hatchet, yours is your fuckass car, no shit.

It's no wonder you had to get it wrapped so frequently after almost every mission. Your driving gives him more grey hairs than age ever did, regardless of whether he's inside it while you're driving or watching from the outside.

RE9!Leon, who after getting rescued from the debris of the fight with Victor Gideon, had sent in a request for a search for you, only to be informed that you had been using the Raccoon City Crater as your personal racing pit. You got bored while waiting for communication from his end, apparently.

What about the zombies that may have possibly swarmed you, someone may ask?

Ran over flat.

Your only complaint was the carcass of the undead staining your newly polished car. 

Your ‘poor baby’, you said.

RE9!Leon with a young ex-racer!reader, who flirts with him shamelessly despite the visible age gap between you both. It's hard not to notice your knack for playfully pining him to the hood of your car at every damn opportunity you get.

Initially always met by a pinch to your cheek or a flick to your forehead, you'd laugh it off, his face holding a disapproving look. Until the day he actually teases back. 

It's not much, just the slightest tilt of his head and a slow smirk, and that's all it takes for you to get flustered and fumble over your words and not meet his gaze for the next three days.

RE9!Leon with a young ex-racer! reader who uses the roof of their car as a flat surface for keeping their drinks. Not even a can or a cup of coffee, no. A fucking wine glass and that too, just parked outside the DSO headquarters.

With the car door on your side open, one foot on the pavement; music blasting loud from your car’s sound system while you go through case details, occasionally take the wine glass to take a sip of what it appears to be is wine. 

Unless it’s not.

“What are you even doing?” Leon sounds so done, but moreover confused but not really surprised with your shenanigans anew. He had gotten a call from the chief saying nothing else but ‘Kennedy. It’s your partner again.’ in a very exhausted tone. 

And that leads to him standing on the footpath, hands tucked inside the pockets of his jacket, looking like a single mother having issues understanding their emo kid.

There are onlookers who glance over at you in your very flashy car in front of a government building.

Not that you care.

You thrive when kids passing by nudge each other fawning over how cool you and your car are.

“Drinking on the job and right in front of HQ is not a really good choice for your profession, agent.” not like he didn't drink on the job about a decade back or anything, definitely.

You look up at him,”It’s pomegranate juice.” you stare him dead in the eyes.

“What.”  he blinks.

“Yeah.” you hold out your glass of red swirling liquid towards him very slowly with a goofy smile.

He takes it, not believing you and sips from it, actually surprised that it is, in fact, fucking pomegranate juice.

Which doesn’t make you any less weirder but difference is, now you have your mentor, old man Kennedy, occupying the passenger seat of your car right beside you, another wine glass of pomegranate juice on the opposite side of the car roof, one foot placed on the concrete ground and the other leg folded onto the seat with the case files scattered in his lap.

He wouldn’t admit for his life that this is therapeutic.

Ridiculous.

But therapeutic nonetheless.

The chief was, so about to resign his post after this.

RE9! Leon with a young ex-racer!reader who embarrasses themself big time by getting into the wrong room.

You were told by this dear colleague of yours that in the midst of the Chief taking a break, they go into the sound proofed briefing room opposite to the chief’s office to scream out all their frustrations as a way to cope and vent.

So you do so.

You go very smartly, nonchalant in your stride, with your above mentioned colleague hyping you up from his desk. And the next thing the entire floor hears is a loud scream of-

“OLD MAN KENNEDY IS SO FUCKING HOT OH MY GOD RAHHHH-”

When you get out, everything is dead silent.

Except for a crouching Leon who choked on his coffee at Sherry’s desk and the sound of your dear colleague’s chair scraping against the tiled floor as he makes his way to you, holding your hand and shaking it, followed by a pat to your shoulder, “Thank you." he affirmed, "for voicing out everyone’s thoughts here. That was NOT the briefing room, by the way.”

You blink at him and then look at everyone else’s faces at the back, heat creeping up your neck as a tight smile stretches across your lips.

‘Fuck me.’

You didn’t know which was the Chief’s office and which was the briefing room as you never went to either of the two rooms since Leon would be the one to be making those trips while you would be slacking off in the meantime. 

‘You’ll regret doing that one day.’ he once said. 

He was right.

And now there’s not only a single solid security camera recording of you screaming about how hot Leon Scott Kennedy is right inside the Chief’s office. But now there’s at least fifteen different recordings from fifteen different angles of the office with your voice booming across the space along with everyone’s reaction.

“uh…Kennedy, sir!!!” your voice came out a bit too squeaky.

He had been staring holes into the mahogany of the desk at Sherry’s workspace, and then his gaze turned to you without actually lifting his head.

Okay.

You were a bit scared.

Just a bit.

“....I’ll go get the files i left in my place and meet you at the suspect’s location, yeah?” Having said all that rapidly you didn’t even wait for his approval or disapproval before bolting out without a second’s delay…only to have to come back in and quickly make your way to Leon and pluck your car keys from the pocket of his jacket. You had given him your keys before entering the HQ building.

Nobody dared to laugh outright but the way how the hardened agent Kennedy had never looked so mortified in the office space ever before, wasn’t lost on anyone sitting there.

Your blunder had gotten so famous that even the BSAA commander Chris Redfield, the next and very first time he saw you, came over, laughing uncontrollably at the sight of your face as he swung an arm around your shoulders, teasing you about it. 

He got to hear about it on his last mission from the rescue chopper pilot. That ended up with his entire fucking team who were currently worrying whether or not they’d make it past the next obstacle without casualties, laughing hysterically through the forest as they run from a hoard of mutated animals. Your blunder being used as a shot of encouragement to fuel soldiers to safety.

At least it saved lives, unironically. 

“You’re so hot, old man Kennedy.” smugness dripped from Chris’ tone, his arm still around your shoulders as he shot the blue-eyed man a teasing look.

“Claire’s gonna hear about this.” 

“She’s gonna join in, trust me.”

“...”

Hey.

At least someone gets a good laugh when they hear about it, right?

RE9! Leon with a young ex-racer!reader who appears out of literally nowhere at the worst or the best possible timings like a goddamned movie star.

Leon is surrounded by the undead, ammo running out fast like flowing water, and he can’t reach you over the comms. The last time he had any contact with you was when you stayed behind in an abandoned garage to get the busted tire of your car changed and to find fuel as well. The comms cut off midway when going back would only make him deviate from the fixed timing for rendezvous with you at the agreed point.

And to top it all off, the sky is overcast, a storm brewing right at the horizon.

Great.

This mission couldn’t get any fucking worse.

And he was right. It couldn’t.

It got better, though.

He’s in the midst of reloading the last magazine of ammunition he has when he hears the familiar static over communications.

“[Name]?” with a hand to his ear, he calls out.

A distant thunder roars in the sky, followed by the choppy lyrics of song you’ve had on repeat so often that it served as your character song right now, over the comms, as he hears the loud booming of your car nearing, the distant song playing more clearly than ever in his ear as he glances in the direction of the ear deafening volume of the song, which he would usually grow tired of hearing, but now sounded like living another day without getting bitten to death.

There you were.

One hand on the steering wheel, head moving to the rhythm, your voice singing along, not really caring to harmonize with the beat, speeding straight ahead at the group of infected, previously surrounding Leon now turned towards your bolting car because of the loud sound. 

“What does the boss need?” you yelled over the song, making Leon hold his ear piece a bit away from his ear.

“Ammo.”

“Magnum or rifle?”

“Requiem.”

“Shit. You’re wasting requiem bullets on these puny creatures? Not so ethical, boss.” you tut, shaking your head.

“It’s for your car.”

You gasp in offense, “how could you!?”

“Turn down the volume.” 

Hitting the group of zombies turned towards your car, you swerve, tires screeching, the vehicle pivoting around and at a safe distance from Leon, knocking over the wave of undead like dominoes, painting the road beneath in blackish red.

Smoke curling in a circular formation in the midst of the abandoned city square, and in the middle of the circle, Leon Kennedy, who didn’t even finish reloading the last magazine of his gun. 

He just didn’t have to. 

With you doing the work for him, your car drifting around him as he only occasionally turned his head to look at you comfortably performing your expertise.

You did look cool doing so.

Not that he’d admit it to your face.

Clearing out the last remaining infected with a sideways hit with the rear of your car, you steer it to a stop, the light from the prolonged flashes of lightning in the sky bounced off the dichroic film of your car, making flecks of light scatter across and land around at least at a 20 feet radius of your car.

How pretty.

Swinging the door of the passenger seat open for him, volume of the sound system down to a level of his preference, and the bag of ammunition laying open on the centre console.

“Pick your poison, partner.” you present, however, holding up the box of requiem bullets and toss it right into the backseat, “Not for my car, though.”

Taking off the rifle from his shoulder and shaking his head with an exasperated huff that was close to an almost affectionate chuckle, he settles into the passenger seat, pulling the door close.

He noticed the two cans of pomegranate juice casually resting in the beverage holders- since when do they sell pomegranate juice in cans?

RE9!Leon with a young ex-racer! reader who runs late once more but this time way past when you were supposed to arrive in the HQ for the next mission briefing which he finally thought he’d convinced you to attend after that last mishap.

But no, apparently not. 

This time he took it upon himself to find out your address by making Sherry track your phone after you didn’t pick up his call.

And now, standing outside the door of your house, he was surprised he still had the patience to ring the doorbell like any civil person would.

You opened the door, squinting at the brightness of the outside,”...Leon?-”

“You were supposed to be at HQ two hours ago.”

“WHAT-” your head snaps towards the clock, cursing at the time, and look back at him in shame, as you step aside for a very annoyed Leon to enter the threshold. You don’t question how he had your address. Like you had any right to question him after being so unpunctual.

Leon didn’t expect in any form or way for your house to be ordinary considering how out-of-pocket you are, but that doesn’t mean he hoped to see a fucking car casually parked beside your living space. This is his first time seeing someone having an attached garage that is just casually joined to the living room without any further partition.

Any normal person after being woken up would probably go crash on their couch to reel out their sleepy daze.

But not you, though.

You just stretch your arms above your head and the first thing you do is go over to your car and open the door, settling into the seat like that’s your personal couch, one foot on the cemented floor, head slumping against the headrest as your hand reaches to turn on the speaker, volume of the music much more civilised, a record for you than any other degree of volume he had ever witnessed you putting on.

He would have went ahead and sat down on the couch to begin lecturing you about punctuality but seeing you not even consider going to the couch, he too, goes to the other side of the car, occupying the seat beside you in the same manner, burning holes through your skull with how hard he’s glaring at you with those pretty blue eyes of his.

You turn your head to meet your gaze, a slow smile pulling at your lips, the same one he recognizes, that appears when you’re about to pull your worst attempts at flirting with him.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll fall in love.” 

The disappointed sigh leaves from his lips the same time the words from your mouth do.

But the way the furrow of his brow softened ever so slightly along with the edges of his features wasn’t lost on you, before he turned his face away to flip through the mission folder he brought along.

“Leon,"

He pauses onto a page before turning his head slowly to look at you, "I’m sorry.” his eyes are searching yours, trying to assess what that look on your face means, your gaze tracing over the features of his face.

“For being late. It was irresponsible of me to not show up when you were waiting on me.” you added, voice without any tone that suggested jests.

He doesn’t know what to do with that soft tone of yours, slightly hoarse after disuse, but unmistakably gentle, especially when it’s directed at him.

He just gives a small nod, looking back to the folder in his lap, “Yeah…just try not to do it again.”

You click your tongue.

“Come on… that’s the best shot you got at being strict?” you roll your eyes at him.

“...what do you even want me to say?” he furrows his brows in confusion.

“I don’t know… whatever like- maybe scold me?-”

“You’re a grown ass adult.”

“Okay then maybe threaten to cut off my pay?"

“We literally have the same damn employer.”

“Okay then do anything else other than saying ‘try’” you air quote.

“...” he literally has no idea what is the point you’re trying to make here.

You throw your hands in the air dramatically, reaching for a water bottle from the backseat ”you’re so fucking soft and cuddly, gosh.” you sound annoyed.

“Cuddly?”

“Yeah.” you deadpan, chugging water from the bottle, “Cuddly.”

He looks perplexed, again in the sense of a single mother not knowing how to understand their emo kid.

“...why are you so fixated on getting lectured? I thought you hated that.” he shakes his, glancing back at the case folder for the third time- or maybe fourth time- who knows, since he sat down beside you.

“I hate lectures in general, not the ones you give.” you don’t even stutter over a word, staring at his even confused face.

He’s such a cute old man.

“...that makes no sense.” 

“It does, I like hearing your voice. It makes me happy.” 

This must be the generational gap issues that people talk about having with their younger colleagues.

“...o..kay?” he narrows his eyes, trying to understand the intent or the sentiment behind the words leaving your mouth.

You reach over to quickly pinch his cheek.

You couldn’t help it.

“Man, you’re so oblivious.”

“No, I'm not. You’re just goddamn weird and keep speaking in anything but in direct context.” he peels your hand off his cheek with a gruff scoff.

....

________________________________________________________________---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'll release part 2 soon. <3

[thispersoniscrazy]

me because i can't stop the urge to keep writing my male reader with a chain around his neck with a symbolic pendant hanging from it so that he could get yanked by it and get kissed and bossed around by the character and possibly hold the pendant between his teeth when he's the top:

[thispersoniscrazy]

I just realised that i could explore the potential of this idea and go full on out with an RE6 Leon like-

Imagine getting passive aggressively yanked into a kiss by RE6 Leon when he's pissed off and the male reader's being infuriating and bratty as shit

cue to if the reason of Leon being pissed off is the reader himself

OMG OMHOMGOMG

[thispersoniscrazy]

the real unsolved mystery is the reason why in almost any and every piece of gay literature or art that involves smut, there's a convenient bottle of lube just lying around like how do you even arrange that and explain it's appearance when the smut was supposed to be unplanned????

Like yes of course, i didn't plan to get railed by you today, no i did not ever get fucked by or fucked another man, yes there's a bottle of lubricant just in my drawer which even i hadn't had any clue about.

[thispersoniscrazy]

me because i can't stop the urge to keep writing my male reader with a chain around his neck with a symbolic pendant hanging from it so that he could get yanked by it and get kissed and bossed around by the character and possibly hold the pendant between his teeth when he's the top:

[thispersoniscrazy]

i live for the callsigns in RE4 leon x reader fics, like yes of course i'm called cupid's bow, and yes i got them to approve of it. like yes it's not a joke lol yknow what a joke is? you.

jk, i love the creativity and live for the callsigns, especially the ones apart from bird names(i love them too because of symbolism)

[thispersoniscrazy]

me when i accidentally end up making the male reader in a fanfic so fucking cool that i end up simping for them instead of the character that i was initially writing for in the first place:

(add more tags if u want, i currently cant think of anything else)

[thispersoniscrazy]

i have such a criminal of an idea for fic with step dad leon with a male reader having a shitty mom who also cheated on Leon and then they have this whole arc of the reader convincing leon to get back at his trash wife by screwing her younger(third year college dw) and much hotter son and with more personality and yearning for the old man.

And they have this whole arc of the normally brooding male reader slowly letting himself be more young and alive than maturely quiet around Leon so much so that the reader's entire social circle is relatively surprised.

(P.S. i am writing that B.O.W. reader fic i swear, i'm almost finished through the prologue and first chapter)

[thispersoniscrazy]

Uhmmmm....

I don't even know where to begin.

2.9k words btw.

No use of Y/N. Male reader. Age gap. Reader well above mid 20s. RE9 Leon. Bottom Leon Kennedy. Top male reader. Reader is a brat. Pretty much. Leon being called daddy once. nsfw.

(im working on that b.o.w. reader fic, dw yall)

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Leon doesn’t know how he got himself in this…rather compromising position.

He’s on his back on his couch, flushed, panting, breathing hard from the fourth orgasm pulled from him this night. His thighs wrapped around the waist of the man who’s supposedly the reckless rookie under his mentorship. 

Maybe you’re a bit too familiar with this line of work now to be a rookie anymore but, regardless, he isn’t supposed to be getting railed into oblivion by this man who is at the very least a decade and a half younger than him.

You’re so fucking smug about it too, “Aren’t you gonna scold me? This isn’t too inappropriate for you now, is it, daddy?” there had been a grin pulling at your lips the whole time as you kept spurring him on and on. He can’t even speak with the way he’s trying to not let out a moan that’s too loud and too fucking obscene for someone at his age. 

Your hands, though.

Fingers nimble and just barely calloused as compared to Leon’s aged and rough ones, and adorned with a few rings. You dragged them up from his abdomen towards his muscular chest, covered with a thin sheen of salt and pepper hair, brushing against his nipples, making him shudder from the overstimulation from earlier when you had sucked them.

Your gaze, bordering on obsession that would be creepy if he didn’t know you better, trailed over him, making him more aware of his mess of a state as he laid there, panting.

You sighed, ”Leon,” your eyes snapped to his aged handsome face, which you found so fucking pretty. 

“Please talk to me, I like your voice so much.” Talk? He’s so fucked out and flustered that he can’t even think of where to begin as your teasing remarks pursue, which should have annoyed him by this point, only if your voice didn’t sound so fucking sultry while you looked at him all heart-eyed and lovestruck.

He really can’t take it, he doesn’t know what sentence to even put together to direct at you when all you’re doing is turning his mind to mush.

All he can muster up though, is a “shut up.” voice all hoarse and used up from moaning into your shoulder, and he’s tugging you close by that silver chain hanging around your neck to just smash his mouth to yours to shut you up. Although he knows he’s going to be overwhelmed by the sheer fervour you kiss him with when your lips press together. You fucking laughed when he pulled you in like that, so victorious and delighted with yourself.

What a brat.

His words. Not mine.

Your tongue stroked into his mouth like you couldn’t be bothered whether you have enough air to keep you going. Your cock still buried in him as you let him recover, while he kissed you, or rather– while you were devouring his mouth.

You found it absolutely adorable that he tried to keep up with your pace and be overwhelmed by it, so you slow down. Slow enough so that your lips move in sync and in rhythm. Slow enough that your scents mingle together into an addictive musk you could get high on.

Slow enough that you don’t end up scaring him away with all that eagerness when you worked so hard to get him to just admit his feelings.

Stupid boy.

As if you could scare away Leon Scott Kennedy.

His hand that was earlier gripping a cushion so tight that it definitely did tear at some point, now coming to hold the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled you in closer, if that was even possible.

The tip of his nose pressed against your cheek as you angled your head to the side. The feverish warmth of your body seeping into his bones, an odd source of comfort he didn't think he's find this far in life when he'd long stopped hoping for any normalcy.

His hand that tugged you by your silver chain, now wrapped around your shoulder blades in an embrace. The pendant with the lily engraving dangling from the chain around your neck, that dragged over his torso so torturously each time you hovered over him while thrusting into him earlier, the same one you held between your teeth to avoid it hitting his face, all while your eyes screwed shut, face contorted in pleasure above him; now lay pressed between your chests as he held onto you like a vice. 

Though you were the younger one, and supposedly the more vibrant one, even you didn’t simply have the capacity to break out of Leon’s grasp, not like you wanted to anyways, you had spent too many anxious nights and days managing to get in his arms in the first place.

When the need for air did make you pull your lips apart, but just enough to catch your breath, your eyes roamed over his face, taking in the way his pupils dilated slightly as his own gaze roamed your features and it was all it took for you to soften around the edges as you lean forward to press your lips to the furrow of his brow, then to his eyelid and that very specific wrinkle below his left eye. 

And then you nuzzle the tip of your nose against his, making a small smile bloom on his kiss-swollen lips as he let out an exasperated huff, his hand on your back gently rubbing over the scratch marks he just knows are present, which he caused, “What are you? A puppy?” he says that, as if he isn’t just treating you exactly like one with the way his fingers in your hair previously now ruffling it up.

You press your face against his, stubble scratching your face, failing to stop you from rubbing your cheek against his,”Be grateful that I didn't lick your face.” 

“Yeah but you did lick me though-”

“Oh. So now it isn’t inappropriate to say those things out loud, huh?”

“You did rail me, i think we’re past th-”

“You seem pretty energetic to me. Up for another one, good sir?”

“...” 

“...”

“...I’m too old for this.”

You snort, before burying your face into his neck, blissfully aware of the fact that he had bruises of love blossoming across the expanse of his skin.

Bruises that didn’t stem from another mission that made you worry till you were sick to your stomach, even though you knew that he’s perfectly capable of handling it.

It didn’t seem like that for some time though, when not even barely a week ago he still had that blackish disease marking him from the palm of his hand up to the side of his throat. Now, replaced by the proof of your adoration, that's a disease of its own.

With a final breath of his scent into your lungs, you try to pull yourself off him, in the plans of getting the both of you cleaned up.

However, you underestimated the overstimulation that follows after edging yourself almost the entire time just to make him finish first, with you climaxing at the very last round. 

Just as you tried to tried gain stable ground on the couch to place your knee to support your weight on, you miscalculated and stumbled forward, hand gripping the armrest on which Leon’s head was lying on, a stuttering sob, much to your surprise and his, of course, left your lips, along with a shiver that ran up both your spines as his walls squeezed around your already spent cock that was still inside him.

Leon looked up at your face, concerned, your pendant dangled right close to his face. Your arm trembled as you held yourself above him. 

He tried to get up to help you, only to be pushed back against the couch by a shaky hand to his chest, “Don’t move.” Your voice cracked as you looked down at his face, suddenly feeling light-headed from your oversensitivity right now, a tear slipped down your face and onto his cheek as he blinked up at you in surprise, hands coming to hold the sides of your neck to turn your attention to him, “..hey, what’s wrong, why are you-”

He’s interrupted by a stuttering moan leaving his lips when you subconsciously rock your hips up into him, your own eyes closing shut, a broken sound close to a whimper leaves your throat. Your forehead falls to his, as you mewl something about him feeling too good around you, his arms wrapping around your shoulder blades to hold onto you, his own body overstimulated, age not wild enough to extend his sexual stamina, right after another stressful mission too. 

“...do you feel like coming again?” he grunts beside your ear as you sloppily rock your hips into him, whimpering into his shoulder, as you nod, resisting the urge to bite down onto the flesh of his already marked up shoulder to shut yourself up. You can’t stop yourself from babbling into the side of his throat, ”can i please come, just one more time, please?” 

You poor thing.

His sweet, beloved boy.

Your moans muffle against his skin as he lets out a breathy approval when you ask that, his toes curling once more, head leaning against your own as he feels that one spot being hit again and again one more time. 

He feels that you’re close as your pace stutters, almost to a stop until he’s bucking up his hips in one snapping motion, making you come once more with a broken cry leaving your lips, your body recoiling into his, in the hopes of riding out your high. 

You were heaving, trembling, in his arms, breath moist against his shoulder.

“...zero pull-out game, by the way.” he’s breathless himself, yet, still capable of one-liners that either don’t hit, burn, sound ridiculous as hell or hit so much you could die from asphyxia because you laughed too hard.

Anyways.

You can’t believe you cried from pleasure. You pull out, chest heaving as you sat up, looking down at his pretty face.

Leon Kennedy, who just made you fucking cry from pleasure without even meaning to and let you relieve yourself even though he was way past his point, himself.

How can you not just fucking adore him? 

And there you were, once again, looking at him, awestruck like he brought down a piece of your favourite planet for you. His own lashes were damp, tears sticking to his waterline as he looked up at you, done with you, in the best possible way.

“What are you staring at?” he huffs out, raising a brow. You intended to reach for him to kiss him until he stopped you with a foot to your torso, shaking his head, “I swear if you come any closer to me, I'll kick you off.” he runs a hand through his hair, damp from sweat.

You laugh again. Your hand comes to take a hold of his ankle as you bring it more up to your chest, right over where your heart is. Any kind of insult from him sounds like affection to you, because right now, it is.

He furrows his brows in utter fucking confusion at why the fuck exactly does your face looks so fucking smitten with him when he's literally threatening to kick you off. Not really, though.

He thinks you’re the only person insane enough to do all kinds of nasty and downright filthy shit with a man as old as him and behave like it's the most romantic shit that’s ever taken place in this mortal realm.

But he doesn’t mind it, not at all. How could he? When your feverishly warm hand encircles his ankle to bring it onto your shoulder, your cheek pressing against it as you look down at his face like a puppy. 

So innocent.

Like you weren’t just fucking him a few minutes earlier, till his back became sore altogether on the behalf of all the times age couldn’t do shit to affect it.

“You really are just like a dog, huh.” that only just earned him a grin wider from you, like you already have a reply ready.

Which you do.

“Why? Wanna walk me around like one?” you tilt your head just the slightest, watching his face flush a bit more from your words rather than the already lingering high from before.

“I feel like you’ll like it a bit too much, if i did”

“We won’t know until we try it, right?”

Oh.

How cute.

You’re jerked forward by your chain catching around his ankle as he yanks it, holding you there, “Like this?” 

You huff out a chuckle at the sudden move, eyes twinkling with a playful glint.

A smirk pulling at his own lips, amused at your hopelessly smitten stare at his face, and then he moves his foot a bit to the side, pulling you along that direction, “or... like this?” he voices it out in faux contemplation, the dim lamp light dancing in the baby blue of his eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder how pretty the silver chain looked around his ankle, almost like an anklet.

Oh.

An anklet.

Yeah. He could tell you did not give two fucks about being treated like a dog or whatsover, your mind engrossed in a whole another thought train as you kept glancing at him and the way he had you yanked forward and hovering on your knees. 

“Considering it, are you, rookie?” he placed his foot right back onto the hard plane of your chest to get your attention.

“Yeah. I am.” you reach out to hold his foot against your chest, rubbing your thumb over his skin.

“Considering what, exactly?” he suspected it wasn’t at all what he was spouting on about.

“Putting an anklet on you.”

“Excuse me, what?”  he paused, really fucking paused.

“Please? Pretty please?”

Just when Leon thinks he had figured you out to some degree, you never fail to surprise him. Really.

An anklet?

Yeah. Unheard of for such a conventionally masculine man like him to be wearing an anklet, right?

He just stares up at your face, gaping, as you try to give your best puppy-eyed pleading look you can muster up.

“If you’re trying to act cute, it’s not working.” he deadpans, a smirk threatening to pull at his lips despite how unbothered he’s trying to sound.

Bringing his foot to rest upon your shoulder once more, you press your cheek once more,”Please? I swear I'll kiss it every night.” saying that, you turn your head just enough to press a slow kiss to his ankle where the anklet placement would’ve been, eyes not leaving his face even for a second.

Oh yeah.

It’s working, alright.

He actually sat up, foot off your shoulder before grabbing you by the chain around your neck with his hand instead, tugging you hard towards him until your lips are just hovering right above his, breath fanning over yours, your throat bobbing as you swallow from the sudden proximity.

His voice, hushed and hoarse from all the pretty sounds he let out beside your ear in the past few hours, now a low gravel against your lips, “Cheeky bastard. Think you’re so smart, huh?” there’s no actual bite in his voice despite how it sounds.

Doesn’t ever fail to make your ears heat up, though.

You grin against his mouth, leaning a tad bit closer in hopes of closing the little tiny gap between your lips, which he intentionally doesn’t let you close, his other hand sliding up your chest to hold the column of your throat. 

“Me? Never.”

Yeah. Cheeky? Maybe not. 

You’re a fucking brat, though.

With an exasperated chuckle and shake of his head, he shoves you back against the cushions, hand still around your throat as he presses his lips onto yours, the only method effective against you constantly spouting your infuriating bratty nonsense.

Your own hands resting above his lower back, massaging the area, in case it hurts, even in the midst of kissing, even with your eyes closed, you thought of him first. 

How come it’s something so natural for you to care for him?

He doesn’t know. 

Did it scare him that it may involve some ulterior motive the first time you started acting so careful around him? Definitely.

But he learned. Over time. Still is. Maybe he’ll learn enough until you being so damn fixated and doting on him would become the new normal in his life.

When he pulls apart just enough to look at each other’s faces, you ginger;y kiss the tip of his nose, “is that a yes, then?” 

You’re so relentless. 

He doesn’t get it.

Really.

What’s so special about the idea of some accessory as delicate and flowery sounding as an anklet being worn by someone so gruff looking like him?

….he can humour you for now, he supposes.

“It better not make a fucking sound when i walk around.”

“Yayyyy-” you try to kiss him again only to be shoved back by the hand to your throat.

“Gross.”

You look so offended.

“After all that?”

Really, though.

How cute.

[nkogneatho]

🎀 writers who write long fics, my beloved

🎀 writers who write short fics, my beloved

🎀 writers who only write headcanon my beloved

🎀 writers who only write oneshots, my beloved

🎀 writers who write self inserts, my beloved

🎀 writers who write poc!readers, my beloved

🎀 writers who write chubby!readers,my beloved

🎀 writers who write OCs, my beloved

🎀 writers who write ooc, my beloved

🎀 writers who don't write anymore, my beloved

🎀 writers who are on hiatus, my beloved

🎀 writers who write for themselves, my beloved

[aquilacalvitium]

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

Write it badly or it'll never be written

[aquilacalvitium]

Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again

[thispersoniscrazy]

i need some encouragement rn chat

if i write an oc insert reader x pre RE9 leon fic, would yall read it (ik ppl will but hype me up a bit here, im on my period)

like- the reader gets isekaid but doesn't remember how and its by death but doesn't remember how she died. And she ends up being one of umbrella's experiments but with an actual human conscience.

so yeah.

and Leon who's around 45 about now rescues her without knowing that but the reader herself doesn't know it herself, so there's a whole ass arc of slow burn because she is also a whole lot younger than him and he's just getting over Ada after RE6 timeline.

so- controversially young lover. angst. slow burn.

but there's gonna be a good ending with loads of fluff i promise.

Oc reader is gonna be around her mid 20s. so yeah.

pls tell me that i should write it.

in fact. force me to write it and post.

the only time i'll accept cyberbullying.

[thispersoniscrazy]

when i thought RE2 Leon was fine as hell and then i see RE9 Leon

[nadin2003]

🕊 Nadin’s Hope: A Mother, A Memory, A Future

Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.

I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.

Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.

On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.

We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.

A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.

Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.

Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.

The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.

Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.

We Don’t Know What Comes Next There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.

Nadin’s Hope: Rebuilding Life for a Mother and Child

My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.

How You Can Help I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:

Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.

Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can give—thank you. If you can’t—just sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.

[thispersoniscrazy]

that tetrawoman, princess Luma from Ben 10 Omniverse s1 ep12 is sooooo cuteee

Like let me marry her instead

[thispersoniscrazy]

The Heart Pirates-- Masterlist

Trafalgar D. Water Law

General

A wonderful cat life. [Pt.1 || Pt.2]

[animentality]

[thispersoniscrazy]

Preach