RESIDENT EVIL 4 REMAKE (2023) dev. by Capcom
INCLUDES— nipple/breast play, spanking, pussy slaps, fingering, clit play, cunnilingus, blowjob, squirting, hair pulling, creampie, size difference, slapping, choking, bdsm, 69.
WARNINGS— 19 links, all of these videos are for afab readers/viewers, don't like don't read/watch, make sure to be logged into twt/x beforehand, if some of the links stop working please lmk !
leon making sure to give your boobies extra attention
spanking the brat out of you
when he reminds you that it's supposed to be a punishment by leaving you on edge
leon knows his big muscles make your pussy drip
he's a head pusher when you give him oral
getting fucked by his thick fingers you can't help but squirt
sometimes sex is what the both of you need mid arguement
he's just so rough, and you eat it up everytime
couldn't even get undressed properly, he just needed your cunt around him now
leons a munch, everyone knows
he knows you're fucking mess under those panties
jerking his cum into your swollen pussy
leon secretly loves the fact he's too big for you
fwb!leon reminding you that you're his, no matter who you're fucking
wall fucking is peak in his eyes
the movie playing in the background is forgotten within ten minutes
trying out bdsm with leon
he knows he's good at what he does
leon using your mouth
ffiolette
RE4 OG is 20 years old, so have an old doodle
Is it possible for you to expand on your overworked series w Leon? I actually loved it sm
first request !! of course lovely, hope you like it! <3
masterlist | first part | previous part
✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🧸 ⋅ ˚✮
college student! leon x college student, eldest daughter! reader
summary: things get difficult- they pile up, and the harder things get, the further you start to drift. Luckily, Leon isn’t pushed away so easily.
cw: realistic depictions of depression, reader is overwhelmed with everything, abandonment issues if you squint (not that hard tbh) leon being a very good boyfriend :)
a/n: been having a bit of a rough time recently and when this request came in i knew what i had to do
hey!! so this fic deals with realities of depressive episodes and how the room(s) we live in reflect that. i have had depression most of my life, so I’m drawing on personal experience. That being said, if you are bothered by the mentions of “gross” depressive behavior in this fic, i.e not showering, dirty plates/moldy coffee in the bedroom, or not brushing teeth, and plan on leaving a comment about how “depression is just an excuse to be gross” just don’t. scroll on past, this fic isn’t for you :)
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You’re hiding from Leon.
Not a good idea in the long run, because one, he always manages to find you —always— but two, when he does inevitably sniff you out, he’ll be upset for two reasons— because you’d let things get bad and because you’re hiding it.
Your room is a disaster. It’s always the first sign. Well, the first sign is usually the general unwillingness to do anything but get out of bed, sleep, or binge watch tv, but still. Half-empty water bottles litter every available surface, accompanied by papers —both unimportant and important— and dirty dishes. You don’t even want to look at the coffee cups.
It’s disgusting. You know it is. Actually, truly disgusting. There’s mold on some of the plates for Christ’s sake. And all you have to do is stop whining and just do it. But you can’t.
You can’t.
Because letting everything else get this bad is the only way you’ve managed to keep your grades intact during this episode. Something had to give— you didn’t have the energy to give to anymore. So your room fell into complete and utter disarray and you haven’t been eating well like Leon wants and you don’t even want to talk about your shower routine.
It’s bad. Everything is bad. You hate going home to your dirty, gross room, and you’re tired of being too tired to do nothing but homework, and you’re afraid of how upset Leon is going to be when he finds out.
And you’re so frustrated. Because you’re not that girl— you can’t be the girl with the dirty, messy room and the unkempt hair and the bags under her eyes who doesn’t leave the house. You can’t— you’re more than that. You’re you. You’re that girl. The girl. Beauty and brains. You just don’t know how you let it get this bad.
And you don’t know how to climb your way out.
—
Leon hasn’t been by in… awhile.
This of course, is not his fault. Over the course of this episode, as things got worse and worse, you got better and better at keeping him away.
At first, you were ashamed. You were doing so good for awhile, before everything got bad again. And then, you started worrying— you’re pushing him away, hiding everything from him, and once he realizes, he’s not going to be happy. You’re scared of losing him because you can’t keep it together.
You don’t dare to admit it outside the safety and comfort of your own mind, but you’ve really come to rely on Leon. He’s always there for comfort when you need want it. Even when you don’t know. He knows. He always does.
A hand on your thigh, squeezing to distract you from picking on your hangnails during class. A large, warm arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to him. That deep rumble in his chest when he’s telling you something, his voice low and sliding around in your brain, making all your thoughts stick together.
And you’re not allowed to miss him. You pushed him away. You told him he was distracting you. You told him you didn’t want him at the apartment.
You’re not allowed to miss him. But that doesn’t stop you from doing it anyway.
You’re sitting on your bed, staring at the slivers of floor you can see and wishing it would all go away so you’d stop feeling so bad. You hate staring at the mess, hate seeing it— but you can’t bring yourself to look away. The shirt you’re wearing probably smells —you haven’t kept up on your laundry so you’ve been cycling through the same three shirts for around the house wear— and you can practically feel the tangles you’re getting in your hair from not washing it. You haven’t showered in awhile either. Your skin feels grimy.
Your gross. This is gross.
A loud knock sounds on your door and you snap your head up, frozen.
Only one person knocks like that on your door.
“Shit— uh, coming!”
You pick your way across the floor, stumbling over clothes and hangers and seriously, how many disposable water bottles can one person drink?
You finally reach the door and crack it open the tiniest sliver.
Leon’s staring back at you, his expression unreadable.
That’s not good. You can usually read them, nowadays.
Your eyes catch what he’s wearing- his uni sweatshirt and one of his favorite pairs of old, worn flannel pajama pants.
That’s not good either. If he’s wearing his comfortable clothes, it means he’s not leaving for awhile.
You stare at him through the crack in the door for a little while, unable to break the silence. He shifts his stance, rocking back onto his heels and putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
You don’t respond. You begin to chew anxiously on your lip, hands going white-knuckled on the door-frame.
“Princess,” He says, and you can’t tell if his voice sounds fondly annoyed or just annoyed when he says it, “You wanna tell me what’s been going on?”
You shake your head.
“Oh? Not talking today?” He relaxes his stance a bit, “Is the reason you’ve been avoiding me the same reason you won’t let me in your room?”
You resolve begins to crack. It always does that when he’s right in front of you, every part of you longing to slot yourself into place next to him, safe and protected.
You stamp down the urge.
“I’m just busy right now Leon. I’m not avoiding you.”
“Sweetheart, I stopped believing that the second you started wearing the same sweatshirt for a week straight. You’re not well.”
“So? What does that matter to you?”
“Do you really need me to answer that?”
It becomes a competition then- who’s gonna look away first. Leon’s staring into your eyes, clearly cataloguing your face, that unreadable expression still in place. You meet his gaze right back, wondering how long it will take to get him to break.
He doesn’t. He must find whatever it was he was looking for in your face though, because he smirks, crossing his arms and leaning back.
“You’re not going to outlast me, princess.”
You sag, frustrated. “I just…”
You suck in a breath, rushing all the words out at once.
“I’m ashamed and I don’t want you to see it.”
He blinks. “Your room?”
You nod. “It’s… really bad. I let it get really bad.”
“No,” He starts slowly, taking a step towards the door. “You don’t let things happen, baby. Sometimes we can’t help how bad things get.”
“But I—“
“No but’s. You’re overwhelmed. Of course some stuff is gonna fall through the cracks.”
You scrub a hand over your face and immediately regret it, the feeling of your unwashed skin grating on your already frayed nerves. “It’s gross. I haven’t showered and there’s mold in the coffee cups—“
“Don’t care.”
“But you should. It’s disgusting, Leon. I’m—“
“Hey now,” He says, voice hardening. “Don’t finish that sentence. Now, answer one question for me: do you want to keep living in your room like this?”
“No! But I can’t—“
He shrugs. “Then I’ll help you clean it.”
He says it so easily. Like it’s not a gross, hard task that he shouldn’t have to do.
You shake your head. “You don’t have to, really—“
“I want to.”
The words go straight to your chest. Warmth begins to pool and spread where they struck, tendrils curling around your fingers and throat.
“Why?” The word is lodged in your throat- you barely manage to get it out.
“Because you’re my girl,” He says, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his warm ones brushing your chapped in a kiss so gentle you almost wouldn’t feel it, if not for the press and heat of his face. “And when my girl needs —or wants— something, she gets it. Especially when it comes to help. Okay?”
Tears begin to well unbidden in your eyes. “Okay.”
You open the door wider, stepping back and letting him see into your room. It all feels raw— you’re like an open, exposed nerve. Letting him see your room is a bit like cracking your chest open and letting him see all the messy, bloody, ugly bits that keep you going.
He steps into the room. Pauses. Looks around. Looks at you.
“You wanna do this?”
You nod, biting your lip and hunching in on yourself as he takes in the mess.
“Baby,” He says slowly, stepping into your space, sliding his hands across your waist, “What do you need from me?”
You press your face into his shoulder, breathing in deeply.
“Come on. Use your words.”
“Can you just—“ You step back, “Can you please just… sit? On the bed? I just, I just need—“
He strokes a hand over your cheekbone. “You need me to sit on your bed and tell you you’re doing good?”
You can’t help the whine that builds in your throat. Not really.
“Mmm. My poor baby.” He presses a light kiss to your forehead then walks away, sitting and immediately making himself comfortable on the sliver of open space on your bed.
He reaches for your bedside table, opening a drawer and pulling out the headphones he knows you keep there.
(You keep them there because he bought them for you. Your old headphones were falling apart but did the job just fine —most of the time— but Leon wouldn’t stand for it. The next day, you’d opened your door to a brand new, incredibly expensive pair of headphones you’d brought up wanting maybe once. So when you’re not using them for studying or walking to and from classes on campus, they live there. Safe.)
“You know listening to music makes you more productive,” He says, extending them out to you, “Leave one side off, so you can hear me.”
You take the headphones, sliding them on and powering them up- though not without leaving one ear uncovered. You put on one of your more upbeat playlists- something to keep you moving.
It’s slow going at first. Since the trash and dishes are what makes the room feel the grossest, you start with them first. Wrangling the dirty coffee cups and water bottles and other various forms of trash into the trash bag is an arduous promise, and more than once you have to tell Leon he might want to cover his nose.
He remains where he is, scrolling idly on his phone and occasionally putting it down just to watch you clean. After a few moments of staring, he’ll pipe up with a comment:
“Keep it up, princess.”
“You can do it.”
“I’ll be right here if you need a anything.”
The last one is by far the most tempting offer.
Once you’ve finished getting all the trash and dishes out —the room not only feels and smells one hundred times better already— you move on to the bigger part of the project: the clothes. They’re everywhere. And they probably all need to be washed, but doing that many loads of laundry is—
“I’ll take them to the washing machine if you sort them.”
You jolt, not noticing him standing next to you.
“You don’t—“
“Start with that pile over there. It’s the biggest. Everything else will feel easy once you finish that part.”
While you (begrudgingly) begin tackling the pile, he cues up a t.v show on your laptop, then hooks it up to your monitor so it plays on a bigger screen. Then he leaves the room, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walks by you.
(He’d given you the monitor too. He’d told you that he upgraded and didn’t need his old one anymore, but the monitor was in suspiciously good condition. But you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how guilty the amount of money he spends on you makes you feel.)
You slip your headphones off, putting them back in the drawer and use the ambience of the show you’ve seen ten-thousand times and the now available space on the bed to sort clothes in a relatively timely fashion.
You’re starting to slow down a little, a headache beginning to form behind your eyes right when a delicious smell hits your nose and the door opening signals Leon’s return.
“I bring sustenance for the princess.”
He holds two plates of grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches. One with ketchup, and one without.
You snatch the plate with ketchup and devour the sandwich in seconds, making a grabby motion for the water bottle tucked under his arm.
He chuckles, but obliges, sitting down at your desk to tuck into his own sandwich. You go back to your folding, headache miraculously waning and energy renewed. Go figure. After a few minutes, Leon disappears with the plates and then reappears with an empty laundry basket.
You wordlessly point to a pile, engrossed in the show he put on as “background noise”, folding and sorting clothes as you go.
And so bit by bit, your room gets cleaner, and cleaner, until Leon’s taken the last of the loads down to the washing machine and you’re making your bed and you’ve got an entire season of the show under your belt.
It’s long been dark outside, and you’re making your bed now, fluffing your pillows and laying your plushies in their respective spots.
Leon comes up behind you, draping his body over your back, hands over your shoulders and chin resting on your head.
“Looks good in here, princess. I think you deserve a little reward.”
You hum, leaning back into him. “For what? Needing help to do a basic thing?”
“For being vulnerable,” He drops his head to your shoulder, burying your face into the crook of your neck, “So proud of you, baby. You were so brave.”
Your stomach is doing backflips. “You don’t have to baby me.”
“M’ not babying you. You were brave. And I am proud of you.”
He wants to curl up in bed with you and keep watching t.v, but you insist on showering first. You’re gross and you just washed your sheets.
Feeling happy, you grab one of your nicer, cuter pairs of underwear, taking your time to lather your good smelling body-wash and enjoying the warm spray. Your enjoy the shower once you’re in it. It’s just getting in that’s hard.
When you get out of the shower, you notice that the oversized shirt you were going to wear was replaced with Leon’s sweatshirt. The one he spent all day in.
You smile to yourself, throwing the clothes on and rushing out to cuddle up in bed with Leon. The second you touch the bed he’s dragging you to him, face finding the free inch of space between your neck and the top of your sternum. He takes a deep breath, warm air fanning over the soft skin there.
“You smell so fucking good.”
“Mm,” You hum, already growing sleepy in his hold, “Your sweatshirt smells like you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s really good. And comfortable. I’m sleepy.”
He chuckles, pulling the blankets up over the both of you and planting a soft kiss to your forhead.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”
You fall asleep surrounded by warmth and safety. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.
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um, hi
so romantic 💕
i always liked the adult versions of Leon, but this is another level omgf if i had him in front of me i would suck him until my knees bleed 🙏
cr: anglehands on x ‹𝟹
tender cuts — leon kennedy. drabble benjebekndk, based on this writing prompt request.
you go to move back along the ledge, but leon’s hands easily find themselves on your hips pulling you back. “leon, really. it’s fine. i’m barely scratched up.”
“yeah, well, your face’s telling a different story.” he says pointedly, making sure your legs stayed wide around his hips. “just relax…and let me take care of you.” he mutters, shifting closer.
leon had always been one to keep an eye on your occasional injuries, making sure they weren’t fatal or getting infected. and every time you said how you could easily take care of them on your own, you’d find yourself in a position for his benefit. his hands tending to your cuts and wounds. no argument was good enough in his eyes.
“am i terrible at treating myself, is that it?” you ask, finally letting him tilt your head how he needed, to dab at a cut on your forehead. “something like that.” he distractedly mutters making a mix of a scoff and a chuckle leave your lips.
he wipes at a rather deep cut making your teeth clench in a wince. “hold still. this might sting a little.” leon says, catching your gaze. “you don’t say.” you breathe, clenching your knuckles around the edge of the ledge until they slightly discolour.
leon seems to notice your tense body, his careful gaze taking note of your clenched hands. and without warning, and further deciding on his part, he grabs your wrist, resting your hand on his chest, silently letting you use his shirt as a pain reliever. you slightly look up at him at that, the position meaning he stood tall in front of you.
leon shifts to tend to a cut on your lower lip, tilting your chin up, as you feel his hips graze against your thighs. “you must be like this with all your companions along the way.” you smile as much as you can, without stretching your lips too wide. leon’s gaze pauses on your lips a moment, his thumb coming to brush on the underside of your lower lip.
he was only checking the cut. that was his only reason for brushing the pad of his thumb even further along the tender flesh. “you think so?” he asks, his tone lower than before. you can feel your heart pick up a quicker beat, drowning out some of the outside noises. “i’d assume so, yeah.”
“well, maybe you should work on your assumptions then.” he mutters. was he always this close? you can feel your hand clenched around his shirt. you can also feel the drift of his hand, coming to rest on your thigh. “really? i mean come on, you are a rather helpful person. if there’s someone in need, you’re there to help” though now your tone is beginning to match his.
“but i don’t normally find myself in…this kind of position with them.” he mutters, glancing down at your practically conjoined hips. you can feel your face slightly heating up at that as you force a chuckle.
“don’t say that like it’s my fault.” you say. but when you glance back leon’s still looking down, his hand on your thigh beginning to make absentminded patterns, or what you assumed to be absentminded. but from what leon was saying about how your “assumptions” usually prove to be wrong, your mind wavers.
leon’s brows slightly furrow, pausing a moment. “can i just…” but he drifts off, leaving your own brows to furrow. you tilt your head down trying to catch his gaze. “what?” leon looks back to you, his gaze getting caught up in your cuts again.
“next time, let me handle them.” he seems to rethink his words, choosing to say this instead. you raise your brows, reaching forward and tapping under his chin. “and what? let you take all the glory?” your smile is back. and leon’s heart is beating. from your smile to the feel of your fingers under his chin he doesn’t really know how to feel.
“now…will you let me stand? i need to check my rounds.” you ask, lowering your hand. leon stays in place a moment, his hand actually aching to tighten around your thigh, but he brushes the thought to stay, and possibly lean closer away, as he manages to step back. but he still slips his arm around your back, helping you down. because even if his emotions stay conflicted, nothing is going to stop him from staying right by your side.
© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.
leon you’re the best i love u
I confess sometimes I’ll not heal Leon and let him grunt for 5 min straight