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Re4 Remake - Blog Posts
Thought it fit their dynamic
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(Although I posted it quite some time ago on Twitter and Instagram, I haven't posted it here yet)
Had a thought and had to make it a reality
Nick Apostolides is a biggie for this one 😢
He's so silly tho
mojo pin ; leon s kennedy
author's note: so uhm i'm an idiot and unhealthily obsessed with this man so i wrote this thing at 4am. listened to an ungodly amount of jeff buckley. yes this is a bsd account but i do write multifandom. more in my master list (still wip fml) enjoy!!
The sensation of blood rests sticky on his fingertips. When he scrambles to wipe it, he somehow feels more dirty than before, sullying everything that receives the tainted touch. The wound of disgust that presses ever so relentlessly into his chest, the knife of shame that he twists further within him; will the pain make it right?
Every sound grows dull by the time it reaches his ears. Sharp orders and rapid gunshots melt into a common noise, a cacophony that pushes his legs to run to wherever he's instructed to, that reload another magazine into his gun. In the brief second that passes before the body hits the ground with a thud that is lost among the chaos; the act of aiming is the only one that feels conscious in the moment of concentration.
The instant where life shatters like fragile glass and feels no more consequential than a coffee cup broken on the floor. Because it's so easy to take a life, because he is supposed to do so. In the unrecognisable, necrotic bodies that dot the floor of the laboratory and paint it's white canvas with sanguine, there is nothing human. Only a decrepit shell of what could've been. The weight that sits on his chest and permeates every cavity and every vessel feels like a complete embrace. Leon is aware that it is not guilt. For guilt implies that he would do things differently if there were a choice.
Even if he would've, nothing would have changed. It would be another man standing here, with no future left to live for and a past mired with the same familiar taint on his hands. Ultimately, there would be no difference if it were him or someone else, for there are certain things in this world that nobody wants to do but have to be done. Only the instant where the man is reduced to a vessel remains, where he is no more living than a knife or a gun. It doesn't matter if there were choices that could've set him on a different path, or if the future has chosen a better trajectory. For he's already been deconstructed into something inglorious, visceral, instinctual; the need to survive.
It's clear, this feeling isn't quite guilt. It doesn't feel like something that evolved in him by itself, but rather was inflicted, time and time again. The sticky wound that's comforting in it's sting and warmth, for it reminds him that there is something vulnerable in him that is capable of being harmed, that there is something he has to lose. The reminder of fragile flesh is something that is entirely his. This body may never be free from harm; but the sting of it's cuts remind him that it's still his.
The moment no longer holds the same clarity as it did a few minutes back. It must be a trick of the eye that the ceiling seems to melt into the floor as he continues to run, that the world gets less clear with the growing distance. And just when he is convinced his body will finally break down and give into the sweet embrace of the cold laboratory floor, all is silenced at once.
The illusion breaks as his eyes open, and what greets him is not a laboratory covered in gore, but the pristine walls of his own room glazed in the cool tones of moonlight. A figure uncertain and blurred, something touching his face, velvet soft and barely there. Your face appears unfamiliar when veiled by the sheen of tears in his eyes, those that are still dripping without his consent. It fills him with sense of shame, not due to the act of crying—he has never felt weak for allowing himself that solace—but for getting caught. Your hazy features linger in his gaze; concerned no doubt, this is already a common occurrence for the both of you. In the soft light, you seem more like an apparition, something dreamlike. You will disappear when he wakes up from this delusion too.
Won't you?
His tears are wiped quickly, though not without thought. Leon isn't stupid enough to entirely dismiss how you treat him. There has always been uncertainty in your hands whenever you have reached out to him, vascillating between a gentle touch and a ghostlike graze; as if you don't know how to touch him. As if he was something to treat carefully, like he could break any more than he already has. You treat him like something that can be salvaged. It's not something he can understand, but he knows it everytime you touch him. Sometimes, he feels like he's sustaining off your faith alone. He resents it so much, the taste of you is bitter on his tongue and he's sure he doesn't like feeling this weak, but he needs it. He's always known that he's needed it.
His blue eyes take in the exhaustion that lingers on your own; you couldn't sleep again. You never get tired, and he can't remember the last times he's been anything but tired. He isn't surprised when you don't ask him about why he's crying, why his hands feel cold and clammy or why his heart is racing in his chest like it's begging to be set free of the mortal confine, to render itself apart from bone and flesh— you question none of it because you know as well as he does that he doesn't want to remember.
Leon can only do what he knows best. Take your hand away from his face, press a finger to your mouth when you're about to speak. Then pull you back to bed, making you lay down once again. "Just a bad dream. Don't think about it." Doesn't bother distinguishing whether he's trying to convince you or him. After a certain point, he had accepted that it doesn't matter. Your presence felt so natural , it might as well just be his.
Your affection feels the same as the weight that compresses his chest. But yours is not the warmth of an open wound or a bitter anger. Yours is that of the hot knife that cuts the heaviness in his chest like butter. You make yourself a spot in the gallery of broken hopes and missed opportunities that he calls his heart and purify the rot within. He wishes you could depollute him entirely. Twist that hot knife in deeper so that perhaps you could kill the source of his regret too.
But he's no longer that naive. There is no curing his disease. His regrets are not something that can be chased away by basic kindness. He's learning to live with it, and this he knows has little to do with you. He'd only ever change if he wanted to. But he can't deny how your touch makes him feel, how it eases the moral rot that clings to his hands, face, hair—wherever blood that isn't his own had touched—and takes off it's taint, even just for a moment.
He can hear you silently complaining when you're trapped in his grip. You're being unreasonable, honestly, it's a work night and you still think it's a good idea to not get any rest?
"Come on, just go to sleep, you know you gotta get up early tomorrow."
"I'm gonna call in sick."
"Well I'm not, so stop moving so much."
You halfheartedly joke that he's being unfair to you, and all he can do is smile faintly as he hides his bloodshot eyes in your hair. Tonight, atleast, he won't let you go till you fall asleep. Even if it means he has to listen to you make smartass comments for a few more minutes. It's worth it when you can't help but close your eyes, and he can rest too. This body will never be safe from harm, but he always knows that you won't shy away from putting back the pieces of it together. All complete with a gentle touch.
leon x hybrid reader recs please im dying
hello leon enjoyers send prompts i feel like writing again
yaaas lets go!!!! genuinely surprised myself w how good the smut is just for you pookie!🫶🏼(i never know how to end these things i hope this is okay)
tw for: intimacy (yuck!) creampie, nicknames (doll, angel, my love), unprotected sex, LEON LETTING THE BATHWATER RUN COLD, eating pussy, fingering, boob touchin n shii
Re4r Leon getting home from spain to your shared apartment, his clothes are tattered and he smells like ocean and sewage but you embrace him anyways. You’re half-asleep as he arrives in the earliest hours of the morning. You know and reprimand him as he should’ve gone straight to the base to get checked out, but he says nothing. He grabs your hand tightly as your voice breaks, gasping for air. You kiss his lips and tears fall from your eyes, he doesn’t say anything but he holds you tightly. An arm wrapped around your wait and the other holding your head, pulling you close.
You lead him to the bathroom and draw him a bath, crying softly. He won’t speak but he holds you the entire way, invading your space in the most pleasant way. He keeps you in front of him the entire time, you can feel that he’s still on edge. Still in agent mode, and you stop every step to kiss him whispering to him “you’re safe, you’re home. It’s just us, just me.”
Leon has his head bowed in the bath, even as you wash his hair. He looks at you once, and even though you’ve completed your nightly routine, you join him in the bath. He doesn’t let you rinse his hair or wash his chest, just holds you until the water turns cold. After cleaning yourselves, he notices you’re only his t-shirt and underwear. His pajamas you’ve gave him smell like you, his eyes water but he doesn’t cry. Still doesn’t speak, just turns his head so you can’t see just how hurt he is. He hates leaving you.
You lead him back to the kitchen, taking out one of his prepared comfort meals and warming it before feeding him. You can see the exhaustion on his features as he eats, his deep blue eyes remain on yours the entire time. Just watching, making sure it’s real, making sure you’re really in front if him. You whisper, “we’re just at home. We’re safe, just us. I love you Lee.” He nods and takes a deep breath, not allowing himself to cry.
After he eats he coerces you into forgetting about the dishes for tonight. The first words he says to you being, “Please just leave ‘em Doll, I’ll clean up tomorrow.” Your lip wobbles but you hold back your tears, his voice making everything feel more real.
It’s 2:30am by the time you both lay in your bed, and he pushes his face into your chest. Holding you close, breathing quick and uneven. You comb your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. You sniffle and cry a bit longer, and every time a small whimper leaves your lips he kisses your chest, holding you even tighter.
You don’t know how long you lay there before he lifts himself to face you, your hands locking on his neck. He gives you a small smirk before opening his mouth, his bright blue eyes filled with mischief, “You look good in my clothes Doll, let’s get you out of them.”
You nod quickly, the two of you removing all your clothing. He kisses you deeply, nearly removing all the air from your body. His hands everywhere, he moves to kiss your neck. He nips and sucks at your neck, only stopping when you plead and whine quietly, “Just-C’mon Leon please?” He smiles and chuckles softly, moving to touch you.
His hands rub softly at your clit whispering, “So good, so wet for me Doll. Missed seeing you, missed having you like this- fuck.” You keen and whine, having been without him for what feels like years. He uses his fingers to pry you open, still touching soft. Almost too delicate, too careful. It’s nearly unlike him to touch you this way.
He moves to use his mouth on you, movements becoming quick and dirty. Lewd in every way, he spits and nips at your clit, fingers still working their way into your hole. You finish quickly, his mouth and fingers remain working.
Overstimulation forces you into moaning loud, gasping and pulling at his hair. Leon moans and you feel it. Whining and pleading, “Y-your cock! Need it Leon please? I’ve been s-so good!”
He lifts himself up, still smirking. He looks proud of himself and it makes you blush, even after being with him for so long. He positions his cock at your hole, pushing in slowly while kissing your lips. A secret message there just for the two of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing quickly, a small whimper leaves your lips. He presses your foreheads together, every emotion hitting you at once as you begin to sob. He holds your face between his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, “I know, I know. I’m so sorry yn. My poor angel, I love you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know my poor girl, I love you.”
You speak quietly through sniffles, looking up at him through your lashes. “Need you to move, please Lee?” And how could he refuse his girl, his everything. His thrusts start smoothly, delicate. Like you’ll break if he goes too far. You wrap your legs around his waist, throwing your head back with a small grunt as his quickens his pace. Cock reaching the depths of you, the sound of skin slapping and his grunts filling the air. His head bowing, he takes ahold of your breast pinching and pulling at your nipple. You whine, and he lifts his head to look into your eyes.
“C’mon, you have another in you. I can feel it. There ya’ go that’s my girl. My yn, my love. So wet for me, fuck- s-so good Doll.” You whine and keen and writhe underneath him, gripping at his biceps and feeling them flex under your small hands. You pull him to your breast again, his suckling and nipping becoming harsher. You feel his hand move to rub at your clit, a shout leaves your mouth.
“That’a girl yn. My perfect Doll, cum for me. Cum for me angel.” You finish at his words, body tensing and hole tightening. Leon moans, “Good girl baby. My girl feels so good inside, can I finish inside princess? Please- Fuck so wet, tight little cunt just for me. Fuck!” You beg and plead for him to finish inside, Leon finishes with a shout. Shooting himself inside you, kissing you hard.
He pulls out quickly and cleans you up, hands gentle and soft whispers of praise leaving his mouth. “My good girl, my yn. My perfect girl. I love you, love you so much Doll.”
good morning leon enjoyers i will be writing more today‼️ do we have requests???
good morning leon enjoyers i will be writing more today‼️ do we have requests???
And...
Why not? They really alike.
At one point I realized that Becca was somewhat similar to Mia and...
Resident Evil and The Boys crossover? Sounds good.
(I think Ethan doesn't exist in this universe, only Chris/Mia 🥲)
At one point I realized that Becca was somewhat similar to Mia and...
Resident Evil and The Boys crossover? Sounds good.
(I think Ethan doesn't exist in this universe, only Chris/Mia 🥲)
OH MY GOD??? *eats him*
MY GOD my need to ride him is too much I want to ride him NOW did you see his nose and that fucking jaw??? you never get enough of leon ffffuuuuccck
his side profile is so attractive 💋
Something about Leon with cats make me feel super warm and fuzzy inside
gets me giggling
i love him so so much
Vampire and His Werewolf Roommate doodles
more↓
Goddamn I love Leon S. Kennedy
Like words cannot describe how much I love him lmao
I keep seeing Leon edits on my fyp and dammit it's making me want to play the re4 remake even more
I've only played the original from 2005, but ugh I want the remake so badly (but I don't have a way to play it yet T_T)
Idk what I'm talking about tbh I just simp for Mr. Leon "Slut" Kennedy
(The "S" stands for slut it's true I am capcom)