#luis serra x reader

LEON S. KENNEDY. ♡

you don't know how long you both have been indulging in each other—all you know is that your cunt's jus' so sensitive. but you want more. you need more. thinkin' about being empty and not being stretched full by your boyfriend's makin' your waterline glimmer with tears.

"leoooon, please—,"

leon stared at you, in awe that you were still conscious. aware. clearly, he's not fucking you properly. "please what, angel?" "fuck me—fuck me, please. need your cock. just put it in," his fingertips tease your clit, and you whine, shaking your head. "nooo—nooooo . . need your cock. please, leon,"

today, leon finds out his ovulating girlfriend can turn into a literal succubus.

"but you said your cunt's all sore, sweet girl. you were crawling away," open-mouthed kisses are bestowed on your cheek. "just the tip. just put the tip in," leon could feel his cock stir, quickly growing erect with your neediness.

"okay, baby. whatever you say," he kisses your teary eyes before hovering over you and grabbing ahold of your legs. just the tip. just the tip. just the tip. leon has to repeat to himself, lathering the leaking crown with his creampie mixed with your slick.

just the tip. just . . the tip.

your creampied pussy makes a lewd squelch as leon slowly pushes the head in. but you're both in cloud nine, eyes rolling like it's the first time you've fucked each other. "y, yes, like that!" you whimper, reaching over to your hypersensitive clit and making aimless circles.

leon begins to move, only giving your cunt shallow, slow thrusts. "fuck, angel—," he lets his head fall back, pleasure enveloping his tip. your cunt's so fucking wet and warm. your fingers pick up their pace, cunt throbbing with intense pleasure. who knew you could jus' get off from just the tip?

"faster,"

faster?

how can leon do that without shoving himself balls deep into you? "faster—pleaseplease, leon," you sobbed. "y/n—i," he bucked his hips, trying to go faster without splittin' you open with his cock. whimpers are spilling from leon's mouth, growing needier by the second, his vision continuing to blur as he eased just the tip in, as per your request.

the way you were clenching around him, creaming around his cock—it drove him crazy. how could he not fuck you? leon has to reminded himself that you want just the tip. but he's relying solely on instinct. and before he could even realize it, he's plunged himself deep by accident, and you're wide-eyed, an unanticipated orgasm taking you both by surprise.

"leon—♡!"

"y/n—i'm sorry, sorry—,"

he can't stop. he won't stop, pounding you into the mattress and making sure you feel every length of him with every ferocious thrust. he's drooling, watching you squirm. something about seeing your pussy spurt out clear fluid with every push in makes him feral, potentially unlocked a new turn on and fantasy to jerk off to.

"t, told you just the tip," you whimper, sniffling, and leon cradles your head, essentially smushing your face into his chest. "sorry. 'm sorry, sorry—i l, love your cunt." leon sobbed, his hips doing all the work for him, pummeling into you without mercy.

spit's shining on leon's built chest as you automatically kiss and lick at the area. marks in the shape of your canines are left, and leon hisses when you bite him again.

"gonna cum, y, y/n—gonna cum—cumming. 'm cumming, oh god,"

he vigorously rams his cock in your leaking pussy, hard yet hurried; it's sloppy, and leon's just desperate to fill you again. your moans are muffled by his flesh, and leon has yet to notice that he's crushing you with his chest. not that you minded, either.

with a few more unrhythmic slams of his hips, he's spilling himself in you, all of his cum just overspilling as he kept rutting into you. "hah— h, haah . . so good—so good," he babbles, spit dripping on his chin as his eyes rolled back. "leooohn—," you grunt from beneath your boyfriend.

it's only when his orgasm finally comes down that he stops moving, clarity slowly seeping into his fucked out mind. he retires from you almost immediately, now-concerned eyes soaking in the sight of you. did you pass out? "y/n," a hand caresses your rosy cheek.

"y/n, please come back to me,"

"mhh . . "

oh thank god. he knows you're just fine, but he was still worried. "are you okay?" he whispers, brushing away the stray strings of your hair. "i'm sorry, i was . . too into it," you chuckle when you feel him pepper your face with kisses.

"i'm fine. still in one piece, baby."

you both groan when he slowly pulls out, the rest of his creampies spilling out of your gaping cunt. "i love you, leon." you mutter, weakly wrapping your arms around him. "i love you too, angel."

LUIS SERRA. ♡

"luis . . just the tip,"

you both really shouldn't have fooled around with these aphrodisiacs. it's been hours and his cock's yet to come down. luis isn't even sure if he can cum anym—

wait. did he hear that right?

"what'd you say, mami?"

it's harder to hear you when you're bent over, and especially when you're mumbling and barely coherent. "the tip—jus' the tip," you whine. "is my bebé sensitive?" he drags a finger over your slit, and you squeak, body jerking in response. your knees almost gave out. "luiiis . . jus' the tip, p, por favor . . "

you poor thing. he affectionately runs a hand over your spine, down to your ass where he kneads your curvaceous flesh. "por supuesto, amor. we can go slow. and . . just the tip," [ of course, love. ] he thought he could do it. luis can control himself, can go slow if requested—usually—but the drug that ran through his veins made that fucking impossible. swallowing a nervous lump, he prods the tip against your slit. fuck, you're so fucking wet. this wasn't fair.

with a slow push of his hips, your warmth embraces his sensitive cocktip. "oh, fuck. oh my fucking god. dios mio," luis's grip on your ass tightens, his own way of restricting himself. "sólo quiero follarte," [ i just wanna fuck you, ] he confesses, but only thrusts the tip in and nothing else.

"me estás matando aquí, bebé," [ you're killin' me here, baby. ] luis babbled on, a shiver running down spine. "are you sure you're sensitive? y, you've been—you've been always able to take it," turns out, he didn't have it in him to fulfill your request. luis could hear the obscene squelches your creamy pussy made, and his brows narrowed as he winced, almost as if he was pained from your instruction. yet, his restrained thrusts—it was more like gentle rocking, to be honest—continued, the tip pulling out with an obscene pop with every withdrawal of his hips.

he enjoyed it, of course. more than anything. but luis was a greedy, hungry man. yearning more. needing more. your pussy was just so fucking inviting, creaming all over for him with just the tip—fuck, you can't ask this from him.

"bebé—y/n, i can't—can't take it anymore. i have to. t, tengo que follarte," [ i have to fuck you. ] your eyes widened when luis slowly slides in an experimental inch. you squeal, reaching behind you with one arm, but luis just pins it on your back.

the moment he's stuffing himself completely fucking full into you, you're just sobbing, legs shaking from the mind-numbing pleasure. luis was, too, not even realizing he had just cum in you. his hips moved like clockwork, "luis! luiissss—fuck!" was all you could cry out. you squirmed, writhed, tried to crawl away from the addicting pain of pleasure, but he's tugging you right back and slamming himself into you to the hilt.

"lo siento—lo siento bebé. feels good, h, haah . . " [ i'm sorry—i'm sorry, baby. ]

all that cum pouring out of you made it much, much easier to pound that cunt. "h, haaah—fuck! luiiss—," you sobbed, unable to stop your legs from giving out. his chest rests warmly on your back, and you feel a loving kiss pressed on your temple.

"te amo, te amo . . . " he murmured as he pummeled that pussy, making sure that the tip thwacked against your perky cervix and hitting all the right spots. your head rests nicely on the pillow, and you're so fucked out, you think you're about to pass out from all the pleasure.

the bed creaks as luis kept ramming his cock deep into you, and you squeal as another orgasm washes over your body. the nth orgasm made your eyes cross, made you see fucking stars as your legs quivered and you clutched the sheets helplessly. luis didn't see it, but he sure as hell fucking felt it as you squirt all over him and his legs. "dios—dios mio, you're making a fu, fucking mess,"

his thrusts begin to slow down, hard-on still intact, but the aphrodisiac wasn’t as strong as it was from the beginning. blinking, luis realizes he was crushing you by resting his whole weight on you. "shit, shit—y/n, i'm sorry," he shuddered when he slips out of your creampied pussy. "mierda, hace frío," [ shit, it's cold. ] is whispered to himself whilst he gently lays you on your back.

"luiiis . . " you huffed. "that's not the tip," "i know, i know. i'm sorry. but, in my defense, eso es imposible," [ that's impossible to do. ] an affectionate hand caressed your hair. "still sensitive, prinsesa?" you groggily nuzzle your face in his arms.

you only hummed. the next minute is spent in silence, as luis kept you warm and held you firmly. "next time, no more aphrodisiacs," you stir as he spoke, letting out a scoff. "what? booooo."

"wha—excuse you, señorita, why are you booing me?"

"oh, c'mon. don't lie. that was fun,"

"jesus, you are such a freak. me asustas. you need to read the bible or something,"

"wow. like it wasn't you who bought those pills!"

"oh. ehehe. right."

ALBERT WESKER. ♡

bro this gif im going to start s/creaming

you're already fucked out. already trembling from the orgasms wesker's given you, and it's all thanks to the new toys he had bought from his trip. a clit sucker and a vibrating, ridged, girthy dildo. you sobbed as wesker kept thrusting the toy in and out of you, making sure you take all of its length.

"f, fuck—! s, sir, cumming—, 'm cumming,"

there wasn't much you could do, not when a silk ribbon tied your wrists and ankles to the headboard. ( he bought those, too, by the way. ) "again? look at the mess you just made." you look over at the silicone, the base was coated in your creaminess—and it was already smearing to his already-soaked fingertips.

it was so easy for him to break you, and he hasn't even undressed himself yet.

your hips buck against the air, and the unintentional reflex just makes you grind your clit against the toy that lavished its attention on you. "fuuck—! fuckfuckfuck—, a, albert—!" you clutched onto the ribbons, eyes rolling as you felt your cunt throb with need. you were close, you could feel it in the pits of your stomach. "what was that?"

wesker clicked his tongue, clearly displeased. "you call me sir, brat. or are these toys getting into that head of yours?" you hear a few clicks, and your eyes widened when you realized that the clit sucker's set to its highest setting. "s, sir—i'm sorry! i'm sorry!"

the dildo could never compare to your sir's cock—never—but the extra sensations of the pulsations and the ridges quickly sent you to the edge, never missing where you were most sensitive, always grazing that spongy nub that made your mouth fall agape. "don't w, wanna cum anymore—too much," you whimpered.

"aw," he cooed, a small smile appearing on his lips; barely noticeable. "that's really too bad, pup." he taunts, giving you a slow, but hard thrust. you squealed, clutching on to your ribbons.

"you're not in charge here,"

your cries are music to his ears, and his eyes gaze over to your squirting cunt in amusement. even though you're trembling and drooling, he's yet to withdraw the toys from you.

"are you?" "n, no, sir!" he's tight-lipped and has yet to move an inch. "n, no, sir! i'm n, not in chaaaarge—y, you are!" "hm," good enough. much to your relief, both are turned off, and you're granted a few seconds of relief.

your body relaxes on the soft bed, chest rising as you pant. “colour?” wesker asks, a rough palm caressing your shaking thighs. “g, green,” you mutter. “good. ‘m not done yet,”

wesker retires from the bed, taking his sweet time in undressing himself. it was quite the sight, though; seeing him undo his tie, unbuckle his pants. his boxers had a wet spot from his leaking tip. “you’ve been a good pup, darling.”

the bed sinks with his added weight, and you watch him leave kisses on your inner thighs, stroking his cock with a spare hand as he lathered his pre all over his monstrous girth. fuck . . could you take that? you don’t think y’have it in you. but you didn’t want to stop. y’wanted him . .

“s, sir,”

you call, and wesker’s eyes tilt up. now that he was much closer, y’could see how blown out his pupils were. “yes, my love?” he asked as he positions himself, grabbing ahold of your thighs as he slaps his fat cock atop your mons.

“c, can you put just the tip i, in—?”

wesker acts as if he didn’t hear a word you just said, rubbing his length all over your slit—continuing to lubricate his shaft with your juices. you gasped when the tip slowly sinks in, and you finally get your answer when he slammed the rest of his girth into you. you screamed, back arching as your eyes crossed.

“why should i?”

he begins to rut into you, pummeling your sensitive cunt with mean thrusts. “tell me, pet. why should i?” you couldn’t utter out a proper response, not when your brain was turning to fucking mush as he pounded you. “speak up, slut.” the added nickname’s making you clench around him, and wesker only scoffed at your lack of coherence.

“gone stupid? from me just putting—hnngg—it in?”

with the position he had you in, it was impossible for the tip to not kiss your cervix, impossible for you to not scream for him as he mercilessly plowed that cunt. "s, sir—h, haaah . . ! fuck—!" your overstimulated pussy's fucking throbbing. a squeal's torn from you as his palm collides with your puffy clit with a smack! the sting's makin' your eyes fucking water, and you could feel your legs tremble again.

"will you tell me what to do again, pet?"

"n, no, sir!"

wesker grinned, rewarding your sore clit with a kind caress of his thumb. "good pet. that's—," he groaned. fuuuck, wesker shudders at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his girth. "—more like it. gonna—gonna fuck you how i want to," his words are emphasized with harsh thrusts, to drill that idea in your pretty fucking head.

"where i want to,"

"u, uh-huh!"

"when i want to,"

"u-uhnnn—y, yes s, siiiir . . ♡ !"

seeing how disheveled and how much of a drooling mess you were, were you even remembering what he was saying? probably not. but don't worry, he's more than willing to remind you where you belonged. he could no longer hold back his noises, but he wasn't even interested in trying, anyway.

the way he sounded—feral, almost beast-like, even—you'd be lying if you said it didn't incite more arousal from you. wesker ensured you felt all of him, hips moving without thought as he mercilessly slammed into that tight fit. unfortunately for you, he was more monster than he was human.

you were fucking tightening up around him—still adjusting from the sudden switch from silicone to flesh—and how could wesker ever resist ramming and bullying that pussy with his fat cock? the way he could see how he split you open, shuddering when his tip's right against your cervix—oh, you were such a sweet, sweet pet.

his cock throbbed with the ache of a release. you made it difficult for him to control himself. "fuck—'m gonna fill you up," he hissed. "think y'deserve a creampie from me, sweet girl?" smack! the collision of his palm on your cunt brings you back to reality for a brief moment. "i'm—i'm talking to you," he snarled, an you nod mindlessly. "s, sorrryyyy . . . y, yes sir! yesyesyesyes—please!"

you continue to beg him, plead for his cum whilst he busied himself with rearranging your fucking insides. it's all you could do amidst your fucked out state. don't you worry. wesker was more than satisfied with your expressions.

burying himself to the hilt, you let out a scream as an orgasm is forced from you again, fingertips affectionately rubbing on your clit. wesker can't decide where to look—if he should watch that pussy quiver as you squirted or your face that's contorting as your irises disappear behind your lids.

"yeaaaaah, just like that. look at you—fuck, you're such a slut,"

his hips stutter as spurts of thick, warm semen floods your womb and walls. wesker groaned, shivers pricking his skin. your cunt milked him so good; and not like he'll tell you, but he's fucking obsessed. obsessed with how you're so obedient fo him, how your cunt clenched around him as you quivered from overstimulation.

"tsk, you're leaking. tighten up, slut. don't spill any more," you only oblige him—it's all you could do in your fucked-out state. a groan echoes in the room as he slowly slips out from you. from where wesker knelt, he had the perfect fucking view of your gaping cunt, trying her absolute best to keep it all in as he asked. you squeaked when he caresses your puffy clit affectionately. "shh, shh . . i know," he cooed, the other hand undoing your restraints. you didn't have the strength to keep your eyes open.

the tension slowly rolls off your muscles as he sets your legs down slowly. "you did well, my love," you could feel him bestow kisses on your face. eyes, nose, lips—they were all showered in loving kisses. your wrists are set free as he undid the ribbons on your sore wrists, his lips ghosting over the red marks over your skin, too. "missed you, albert," you mumbled, eyes slowly opening. "i missed you too, my love," there's a faint smile on his face—meant to be witnessed by you only.

"you know we're not yet done, right?"

JACK KRAUSER. ♡

krauser really has lots of pent-up frustration and sexual frustration. blessed with inhumane stamina, it's really no surprise that he can last multiple rounds. 'specially when all of it just piles up on him, mmmm—god, he loves nothing more than taking it out on you and using you for fucking hours.

but krauser is mean. cruel. you want just the tip? that's really—

"too fucking bad, baby,"

that request is fucking impossible, because he's got you folded and locked in a full nelson hold. did you expect that he'd just not bury himself deep in your pretty cunt? your eyes widened as you watched his cock slowly stretched you out again. your cunt was too sensitive.

"n, no—krauser! don't! d, don't—pleasepleaseplease—,"

his balls only throbbed, eyes rolling as your pleas fall to deafened ears. your groans echo in the room as he pushes another inch or two into you. fuck, you need to breathe—

krauser laughed breathily in your ear. "what was that?" you couldn't muster a single word—it was all just pathetic squeaks. "just the tip, you say?" he'd purr, pushing in as slow as he can so your pulsating walls can feel every single inch stretching you. ruining you.

"c, can't—,"

"can't what? can't speak?"

he completely slams into you with a loud plap! you're speechless and fucking stupefied—but, frankly, what else is there to say? "urgg—feel that?" this fucking asshole just had to start gyrating his hips. you could feel the tip poke 'nd prod against that cervix, and fuck, you're trembling.

"c'moooon, sweets. y'better be awake,"

sticky drool's drippin' from those pretty lips as he began to pound you like he hated you. him doing all the work was not a problem, not at all. krauser could easily manhandle you, and he made sure that you knew. he was bouncing you on his cock like you weighed nothing and fuck—you couldn't even think of anything to say aside from his name and ah's! and oh's!

it didn't help his cock was a mix of both veiny and fucking gargantuan—you're convinced your cervix's all bruised because his tip kept hitting 'nd hitting all of your spots. "love your cunt—fuck, you like this? huh? bet you do. look at your cunt's reflection. messy fucking slut," he groaned, ramming into you vigorously. it's like he hasn't even broken a sweat.

"k, krauseeeer—," you sobbed, absolutely broken and cockdrunk. "yeah? 'm here," he pants, eyes threatening to roll back. but he had to watch you in the mirror, had to watch you crumble and go fucking stupid just from his cock. "what does my baby want, h, huh? want me to go faster?" before you had the chance to respond, he's fucking pummeling into you faster than you could even blink; you're fucking dizzy and barely lucid, but that's okay. no need to think, krauser's got you. ♡

"'m c, cummingggggg—cumming. j, jaaaaack—♡!"

"my fucking goooood—fuuuuuuck . . look at this squirting cunt,"

clear liquid's spurtin' out of that stretched pussy, coating him and yourself as he forces an orgasm outta you. you're so fucking hot, fuck. krauser's never ever ever letting you go. "you love my cock, babe?" if it wasn't for how both his large hands held your head, you would have nodded. "u, uh-huh! love—l, love your cock—♡!" "attaaa girl. i love your cunt so, so fucking much—♡,"

krauser doesn't even realize he's drooling himself—completely immersed in the pleasure. he could stay buried in you for fucking eternity. "fuck—wanna breed you. lemme breed—lemme breed you. need to knock you up," he babbled on, focused on jus' chasing his release. and with the pace of how he fucked you—it wouldn't take long.

and you?

you're fucking spritzing all over him everytime his tip grazes against that spongy nub in your dripping pussy. why'd you even ask him to not put it all in? clearly, you loved this. but don't worry. for once, he'll humour you. "y'wanted just the tip, right?" "h, hnnngg—♡," good enough of an answer for him. you're brought back to reality briefly when his movements halt. confused, you only watched your obscene reflections whilst he shifted his hips. "j, jack, what're you—?!" your eyes widened when you feel his tip slowly bury into the tight barrier of flesh in your cervix.

krauser whimpered. fuuuuuuck, you were sucking him in so good. he can't even pull out. "baby—baby, oh god. fuck, fuck. i'm fucking—cumming. 'm cumming—oh my gooooood," it didn't take any more thrusts for him to start filling your womb up with fertile, sticky cum.

you whined as your cunt's flooded with his seed, and you couldn't do anythin' except for clawing on his built forearms as he held you in place. "urgg—yeah . . . just like that . . fuuuck, i love your pussy baby," you couldn't utter a word. you felt so fucking full. krauser finally releases your head, but still held your body close as he settles on the edge of the bed. you practically collapse on his muscular frame when he finally sits, and that's okay. ♡ krauser made sure he held you tight, wrapping large arms around your body and leaning into you so he could kiss your face.

"tongue out, babe. lemme . . "

you oblige mindlessly, sticking your pretty tongue out for him. krauser's scarred lips wrap around your wet muscle, groaning as he sucked on it. didn't take long 'til he was devouring your spit-stained mouth as you cockwarmed him.

"mmmm. ♡."

CHRIS REDFIELD. ♡

this gif is so? um.

chris usually loves to prep you. loves to spend his time devouring your pussy and having his lips wrapped around that sensitive clit.

but you've got work in an hour, and time isn't a luxury you both have. "chris, j, just the tip, okay?" you say, raisin' your hips as you bent over the dining table; weight propped up on your soft palms. of course you can't say no to him, especially when the outline of his erected cock on his grey boxers is all you've been seeing this morning. but you're just a girl. you have needs and wants.

"just the tip?"

chris asks, pressing his clothed chest against your back. you feel his stubble against your cheek as he pressed open-mouthed kisses on your skin. "i don't . . i don't think i can do it, princess," he whined as his hips push forward. you couldn't utter another word as the leaking head stretches your cunt out.

you shuddered, lips quivering as you clutched on to whatever surface you were bent over on. "y, you caaaan—a, aaah, fuck—you have to . . ” you whined. but chris was greedy. hungry.

he’s not sure where he gets the courage to pull out, but he does. the tip slides out from you with a lewd, almost muted, pop! and you’re both unsatisfied, left yearning with feeling the other completely; but it makes do. it has to. tonight, he can have you for as long as he wanted.

“y/n, p, please—,” he pleads, still fuckin’ you with just the tip. chris can feel just how wet you are, hear how that cunt squelched as bucked his hips. “n, nooo—chris, i’ll—i’ll be late,” “don’t go,” his canines graze your skin, and you squealed when he pushes an inch in. your cunt’s pulsating—trying to accommodate his fat cock without prep. “don’t go—y’don’t h, have to go. please stay,” “ch, chris, i—hnnn!” the rest is completely slammed into you, and your eyes cross. chris takes advantage of your agape mouth, kissing you and letting his tongue glissade over yours.

chris starts to pound that cunt, and muffled cries were swallowed by his lips. you can’t really lie, this felt waaaay better than just the tip. the way the tip bulges out from your lower tummy, the way the pink crown keeps kissing that sensitive cervix, it can’t compare. ever.

“mhhhf,” you groan against his lips, and chris playfully bites down on your lower brim. it was hard to take in air when every thrust into you knocked the air outta your lungs. chris parts from you as he held your hips with those big hands of his.

his pace quickens, ramming into you mercilessly. you're both whimpering, voices blending together in melodious sin; whatever thoughts you had before—gone. not when chris had the skill to turn your brain to mush. "goddd—fuck, y/n. y, y'feel so goooood . . " chris sobbed. if only you could see his face. brows scrunched as he struggled to keep his eyes open; only you could bring these facial expressions to this big, beefy man's face.

you squealed when a hand snakes under your skirt, fingertips rubbing against your neglected clit. "oh fuck!" you mewled, unable to keep your cries to a low. "feel good, princess?" chris purred whilst fucking you into oblivion. "u, uh-huh—♡!" fuuuuck, his balls are fucking throbbing.

"d, don't go . . jus' stay. be my pretty little wife. i can t, take care of you,"

he babbled on, rutting into you, stuffing you full with that veiny cock. chris wants nothing more than to fucking breed you, fill your womb with his cum. "'m g, gonna fucking cum," he pants, chest heaving. but he doesn't stop pummeling that cunt—goes faster, actually. chasing his release and eager to give you yours. the table's creaking, and everything on it shook with every thrust. upstairs neighbour behaviour.

you screamed when he lightly pinches that sensitive bud, and you're seeing stars; mouth agape and back completely arched as he coaxes an orgasm from you. your legs trembled, and chris bit on his lip. "fuuuuck, baby. you're so hot—love you, i love you," "chriiiis, fuckfuckfuckfuuuuck. love youuuuuu . . ♡,"

your lips crash together again, sloppily kissing each other as chris fucks you through your high. he grunts, wrapping his lips 'round your tongue, tasting you. with another slam of his hips, you moan against his mouth when he's completely buried deep in you; thick ropes of cum flooding your creamy, spasming cunt. he can't move any more, can't think anymore. he pulls away from you, because he's sure he'll forget how to breathe.

"oooooh, fuuuck—♡,"

spit's trickling down his stubbled chin, and chris is quiet for a moment; sent to cloud nine and completely fucked out. it takes a minute or two for him to recover, and he tilts your head to the side so he could briefly kiss you while he slid out of your cunt. you both groan, and chris kneads your ass, watching his cum slowly leak from your gaping pussy.

"heheh . . gonna call in sick?"

well, you couldn't feel your legs, so. yes.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA. ♡

carlos watched you writhe whilst you came undone from his tongue. your fingers were tugging on his already disheveled, raven tresses. it's your fifth orgasm—he thinks, if he's counting right; and he'd gladly give you more. his wet kisses trail up your tummy, chest, lips, and you liked how your taste lingered on his tongue.

"carlooos,"

"yes, meu bebê?"

carlos gets a realization tonight.

"want more. 'jus wanna feel you,"

he spoils you a little too much.

your cunt was still twitching with need. you'd do anything to satiate your hunger, anything to relieve that arousal pooling in your tummy. even though he's spent the last few minutes coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you.

but he loved seeing you like this. desperate. needy. like he was the only person you needed. you knew just how to get his gears going without trying. "hmm? but you just came, meu bebê. my beard's still wet," he teased, lips latching on your neck and tracing your skin with sharp canines. you held on to his built biceps, and carlos brings your knuckles to his lips. "j, jus' the tip. please. i want more," "i know, i know, bebê. shh . . "

he can never resist you. especially when you were begging him so prettily. didn't take long for him to prod his tip against your needy hole. you both gasp when the tip slowly sinks in, slowly stretches that wet pussy apart. your nails dig into his skin, and carlos bit his lip. "fuuuck, y/n. your pussy—," fucking warm 'nd tight. clenching on him like you needed him.

carlos didn't mind being bossed around by you, especially by you. he'd do anything you'd ask before you could even blink, but he just has to remind you who's in charge.

you gasped when he slowly sheathes an inch or two into your tight cunt. "carlos, w, what're you—?!" he makes sure to slide in nice and slow, so you'll feel every inch of him splitting him open. and also so he can savour that surprised look in your face.

especially when he harshly shoves the rest of his cock in your leaking pussy, god. you'll kill him. "y, you're so unfair, princesa. so cruel t'me," he cooed, not even giving you the time to process a thought as he began to pound you with ungodly stamina.

"you think i don't have needs too? think i don't need to fuck this cunt and to fuck you 'til you're cockdrunk and overstimulated?" nasty mouth, nastier thrusts. your eyes crossed, body jouncing with every slam forward of his hips.

"c, carlos—h,hnnngg!"

he grins. "yeaaaah, that's right, baby. scream my name." you were so sensitive already, flesh walls spasming around his veiny girth, but fuck, you were oozing so much milky essence, it smeared all over his balls. he leans in so your lips could crash together, and carlos grunts against your mouth as you instinctively wrap you legs around him. of course he had to pick up his pace. why wouldn't he? he was such a good boyfriend to you, paying attention to all your needs.

you whine when he parts from you, but he has to, or else he'd lose his balance. he needed to focus on fucking you, tire his pretty bebê out. he bites his lip when you run your palms all over his built chest and abdomen.

"fuckfuckfuck—carlos—♡!"

a hand wraps around your breast, kneading your tits and running his fingers over your erect nipple. whatever thought you had, he quickly fucked it out from that pretty mind of yours. whatever. not like you needed to think when he could do that for you. well, try.

"y/n—♡ godddd, minha linda garota," [ my pretty girl, ] he babbles on, absolutely hypnotized. god, what were you doing to him? carlos kept pummeling that cunt, bed creaking obnoxiously in the process but it seemed that neither of you cared.

more marks littered his skin, ranging from bites to scratches, and they were definitely going to be sore later, but that's okay, a little pain didn't hurt no one. spit trickles down on carlos's stubbled chin, and you lift yourself up a little jus' so you could lick it up.

"y/n—♡! f, fuck! você é tão porra de suja, m, merda!" [ you're so fucking filthy, shit! ] hooking his arms around your thighs and lifting it up to his shoulders, you squealed when he begins to fuck you faster. harder. sounds of skin slapping growing louder as he rammed you without mercy.

a spare thumb began to trace aimless circles on your clit, and you screamed as an orgasm was ripped from your poor oversensitive cunt. "c, carlos—♡! oh fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuuuuck!" you clutched onto the pillows, sheets, fucking anything. you sobbed, and carlos gently flicks his middle finger against that puffy clit—you squealed as you squirt in small fountains.

"you're sensitive, aren't you, bebê? eu te quebrei, princesa?" [ did i break you, princess? ]

and oh, the way you only responded in fucked out mewls, how fucking precious. now that you've coated his girth in your squirt, it was much easier for him to move in 'n out. you could hear jus' how wet he made you, how that soaking cunt squelched with every thrust. you were such a slut for your boyfriend, and rightfully so.

he stops being cocky when his orgasm nears, grunts turning into high-pitched whimpers as he fucked you into the mattress. carlos tried to keep his monstrous, merciless pace, but fuck, he was so close. the closer he was to filling your cunt up and flooding your walls, the sloppier his hips got, probably from fatigue.

but you were such an angel, his god-sent angel, movin' your hips as you tried to meet his thrusts halfway. carlos could cum at the fucking sight of you trying to fuck yourself against him.

"oh god—♡! oh god, fuck, fuuuuck. vou gozar. vou te engravidar. ai meu deus." [ gonna cum. 'm gonna get you pregnant, oh my god. ] carlos sobbed, and after a few more push of his hips, he's crying out as ribbons of thick cum filled that cunt.

he rides his high out with a few more mindless thrusts, combing a spare hand through his hair. he's in fucking heaven, jesus christ. it's you that brings him back to reality, rubbing his forearm and eventually interlacing your fingers with his.

"oh my god, baby. are you okay?" he caressed your face, and you tiredly smile at him. "never better," you kissed his palm, and carlos tucks away the stray hairs on your face. "you sure? you okay? does anything hurt?" "no, i'm fine. well, a little sore and sensitive, but it's okay. i like it," a grin tugged on his lips, and he shook his head. "you're such a freak, baby. it's okay, i love you," a kiss is pressed on your forehead, nose, and then lips.

you shuddered when he pulls out, and his cum slowly leaks from your used, gaping hole. "i love you . . " you mutter, scooting over to the side so carlos can have the space beside you. he sighs in relief when he finally lays down, absolutely spent. "c'mere," carlos sleepily grunts, pulling you to his arms. you took it upon yourself to cover both your bare, sweaty bodies with the blanket.

"did i tire you out yet?" "hmm . . no, not really," you jeered, and carlos chuckled. "well, i certainly tired myself out," you both laugh, and it didn't take long 'til you both dozed off.

end.

Leon S. Kennedy

You get hurt. You get hurt and he jumps to your rescue, of course. He’s used to being the one-man action team, after all.

When the enemies/creatures have been dealt with, he treats your wounds with a furrowed brow and some sort of tic in his eye. God, he’s fucking tired.

You thank him, and you look so very sincere, but he’s used to that too. And then he checks himself for wounds – he’s always second priority – and when he looks back to the room he’s surprised you’re still here.

People leave. That’s what they do. He helps, he protects, he saves the world every tuesday, he gets thanked, and then people leave.

But you don’t. You stay, you ask if he needs help or a bandage, you thank him again. You ask what your – both of you – next move is. It gets him hesitating, maybe his fingertips even tremble with hope and fear. He’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, all alone, for so long that it’s weird and a little bit terrifying to see you stay.

You keep going together and he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to have disappeared when he turns back, or for you to take an opportunity to go your own way. And still. You don’t. You stay. You fight with him and banter with him and hurt with him.

Maybe you even call him « my hero », which gets him snorting because he doesn’t feel like a hero, more like God’s least favorite pest exterminator.

And because he is God’s least favorite pest exterminator, of course you end up getting separated by a concrete corridor crumbling on itself, only a tiny hole, about the size of your face, allowing you to see and hear each other. Already the weight of the world is back on his shoulders as you try and fail to open a passage on the other side, but when your eyes lock with his he sees desperation mixed with sadness, and he knows what’s coming.

But then you say : « I don’t want to leave you alone. » with a sincerity that he really doesn’t know how to deal with. He almost forgets to breathe. His heart is in his throat and he just nods.

You work together to find a way to regroup. You talk to him the whole time through his talkie. You keep encouraging him : « We’ve got this. » « Okay, one step closer. » « Are you alright ? Please keep talking to me. » And by the time you are finally back together, he knows you’re not going to leave.

And he sure as hell isn’t going to leave you either.

Someone please make one of these terrible github sparkly hello kitty edits of Leon with « God’s least favorite pest exterminator » written in glittery pink letter please the world needs it

Chris Redfield

To be completely honest, he’s a goner from the moment you walk in.

The way you answer him like you’re not scared of him in the slightest has him reeling and wanting you around all of the time.

He’s tired of being the responsible one, the strong one, the capable one. He’s tired of being in charge when the world around him is going to hell.

But you treat him like a normal human being, and it’s a breath of fresh air after drowning for so long. He’s just Chris with you. He loves it.

When you get in trouble he’s terrified. You have him doing stupid things that he would bark at his men for. But the way you thank him and smile at him makes it all worth it. And then you bring his squad stuff like homemade cookies to thank them, like they’re the firemen who got your cat out of a tree, like life isn’t so fucking complicated, and he swears if you weren’t here he wouldn’t care about the fate of the world quite as much.

When he has to leave for a long time and he can’t see you he gets cranky. His men have noticed. One of them even once had the balls to tell him to get one of these old-timey pendants with your picture in it, so he can stare at it while he’s gone like a WWII soldier. Chris put him back in his place swiftly, but in the privacy of his mind, he considered the idea for a moment, despite how ridiculous it is.

The men have a betting pool going on about how long it’s going to take him to ask you out. He knows it. He has thought about betting against himself because he knows he won’t ever do it. You deserve a normal life with a normal man. He’s just hoarding what little normalcy you can give him while he still has access to it.

When they come back this time, a lot of them are hurt and most of them are covered in blood, dirt, and whatever biological weapon it was this time. They get into the decontaminating showers – always too cold, and the pressure is so high it feels like the water is piercing their skin – and go through the battery of usual exams to make sure they’re clean. By the time they’re done it’s late into the night, and while some of them still insist on going home, most of them will spend the night in the rooms reserved for them at the facility.

Chris almost always sleeps there a few nights when they come back. He needs the time to adjust back. The bed is clean and the room is safe, and that’s all he needs to know.

But this time there is something on the bed, next to the pillow. It’s a teddy bear. There’s also a piece of paper with your handwriting. « Got him at the fair, he reminded me of you, so I got him for you :) Please be safe <3 »

The bear is a cheap thing, but it’s got a plushie cigarette sewn on its mouth and a serious look. It’s stupid, but it’s cute. And maybe it’s because he’s tired, but the dam breaks. He picks his jacket back up, takes the bear with him, and leaves the facility, headed to your place in the middle of the night.

He’s not going to ask you out, but he’s going to kiss you senseless, if you’ll have him.

Albert Wesker

You’re a tool. But a useful one.

And if he’s being honest with himself, a pretty one.

Probably his favorite piece on the board.

He knows positive reinforcements ensure loyalty, so he compliments you, makes sure to take notice of everything you do and that you are aware he notices. It starts out forced but it does get... easier and easier.

You respond positively each time, good, it’s working.

He starts getting closer. Drawn to you. Physically. Has trouble keeping himself from touching you. Your hair, your face, your waist.

He tells himself that developping a romantic (on your part) relationship would ensure your loyalty even more – people are stupid when it comes to love. So he does touch, more and more, gives sarcastic quips that you respond to. He loves when it comes to you easily, matching his intellect. He loves when you struggle to find words, his pretty little plaything trying oh so hard to win his favor.

He starts kissing your hands, playing the gentleman in all the right moments, just to get you hooked.

He ignores the way he wants to bite at your neck, mark you, tells himself it’s just lust provoked by all this playing around. He’ll get you there anyway.

When you try to leave – or he thinks you try to leave – it all changes. He goes nuts with anger. He’s not above playing a game of cat and mouse with you. Stalking you, hunting you. You are not allowed to leave.

He’s drunk on you, actually, drunk on something he hasn’t even had yet, but he’ll get it. You’re his. And his alone.

And when he catches you, he’ll make sure you can’t forget it ever again.

Ethan Winters

He’s been through so fucking much, died at least 3 times and was brought back through unethical experiments and the power of God’s twisted sense of humor.

Lost his wife twice. The only good thing left in his life is Rose.

When you come around, he’s wary and tired, but he accepts the help anyway, because if he stops thinking that humans are fundamentaly good he’s going to throw himself off a bridge, and it probably won’t even kill him.

And thankfully, you prove him right.

He only gets to come out of the « medical » facility they’ve got him under surveillance at when they need his abilities to... save the world ? Make it worse ? He doesn’t really know anymore.

You’re his usual companion – his guard dog, he thought bitterly at first – and you do your best to actually help him, not let him take all the risks and do all the work. You even fight for him to finally get an appartment outside of the facility, near Rose. He’s still under surveillance, and he has to attend weekly check-ups, but you’re there every time, if only to be a friendly presence.

He cannot thank you enough, really.

When he starts catching feelings for you, he beats them back into the darkness of his heart with a stick. He has loved and been loved and has had that love turned against him in the most painful ways already. He can’t go through that again.

Rose is different. Firstly because she’s his daughter, he really can’t help but love her unconditionally, and he does. Secondly, because she has powers that keep her mostly safe from all the wild conspiracy theory shit that’s happening around them, and he likely will not lose her the way he lost Mia.

But you ? You’re devastatingly human.

He also can’t bear the thought of spreading his monstrosity to you. You’re a good person, a light in the darkness really, and you deserve so much better.

So he keeps his distance. Or pines from afar like a schoolboy with a crush on the popular kid, according to Rose. Which is hard to do when you keep coming around, asking how he’s doing, being friends with Rose outside of work.

So one day, when you come to the appartment with flowers and food and a warm smile, and it’s a bad day with the mold, and you put the flowers in a vase while Rose puts the food in the fridge, when you put the vase down on the table in front of him and he brushes tired fingers against the soft petals, only to see them wilt instantly, he swallows all the anger and hate and misery and tries to hide it all behind his hands. But you are here at his side, all gentle and caring and worried for him. You lay a careful hand on his shoulder, assuring him it’s okay, you’ll just buy more, joking that hey, maybe you’ll buy plastic ones next time.

And he bursts. Send the vase and the rotten flowers flying across the room, shouting at you not to touch him. You jump and take your hand back in fear, and god, that makes him feel even worse. He slumps in his chair, tired from all of it. « I’ll just rot you, too. » he says with tears in his voice.

« Ethan Winters. » you bite after a moment of silence.

« Oh shit, full government name. » quips Rose from the kitchen.

« You are not a monster. » you continue, still looking straight into his eyes. « In fact, you are probably the best man I have ever met. »

He doesn’t see any doubt, or fear, or hint of lying in your eyes. And despite himself, he starts sobbing. In an instant, your arms are around him and you are rubbing his back and petting his hair and laying soft kisses to his temple like you can’t help yourself.

And he knows he’s fucked, he can’t do this without you. He loves you.

Carlos Oliveira

He knows he’s attracted to you fairly early. He’s got a big heart, and to be quite honest, he has been wanting to be in a relationship. So he’s been looking around for that spark and you ? Oh, you’re everything.

But the world is going to shit and there’s much to be done so he doesn’t really get the opportunity to ask you out on a date. Because, yes, he wants to date you. Take the time to know you, to have all the relationship-defining conversations and everything. He wants love, and he isn’t going to waste his time or yours.

But during and in between missions and running away from living nightmares you two are getting close. And he likes what he gets to see.

When you tell him about your hobbies and interests outside of this hell, he loves the way you can’t seem to stop. And he loves the way you can’t seem to stop listening to him when he shares his.

When you talk about the people dear to you, he sees how much affection you have in you, and really, he wants to give it back to you.

When one day the topic of clothing styles come up, and you tell him about you wish you could dress every day, he can’t help but imagine you in the outfits you describe and sometimes he remembers that conversation in the most inappropriate ways and it starts haunting the back of his mind at the most inappropriate moments

He loves your sense of humor, and more than that he loves your laugh.

Lately he’s been loving your smell, and the way you say his name.

Yeah, okay, he’s getting sappy. But he still wants to do things right, and date you first. Besides, it’s still just attraction, nothing more, nothing less.

But then you don’t get paired up. And it’s okay, it’s just one mission, he’ll see you again.

By the time he comes back, you’re gone on your own mission. It’s okay, it happens.

But this back and forth lasts a month and he’s going insane. He can’t even catch you in between missions because when you’re free, he’s gone, and when he’s free, you’re gone. And he really fucking misses you. Is that how his cat feels when he leaves ? (Carlos is a cat man and you cannot convince me otherwise) Like the sun has set and won’t seem to come back up ? At this point he’d pay to see you smile on the other side of the street.

When you finally, finally come back to him, it’s like he can breathe again. And when you see him, there’s a barely contained happy bounce in your step as you approach him, smiling so wide you’d think he was holding the key to word peace.

The conversation starts a bit awkward, « long time no see », « how are you doing ? », but then you fumble with your bag and hand him something. « I got you this ! » you say, bouncing on your feet again.

He looks down and it’s the gaudiest, ugliest, most ridiculous Raccoon City magnet.

Forget dating. He’s marrying you.

Luis Serra

He’s flirting, you’re flirting back, the banter is easy and getting easier each day. He’s having fun talking to you, getting to know you, fighting alongside you, patching each other up. It’s fun, it’s easy, it’s the exact dynamic he’s always wanted to find. You’re a good friend. Right ?

You’re usually together one on one, when your paths do cross. He loves that he gets you all to himself, that he can pry you open slowly, like a treasure chest. And he loves what he finds inside. The humor and the intelligence, the caring, the kindness, the humanity. You both have seen messed up stuff and it’s a welcome reminder that the whole world does not amount to these horrors.

He has started touching you, a hand on your arm, a strand of hair brushed out of your face, an arm slung around your shoulders as he flirts harmlessly, and you’ve been smiling and letting him do it, sometimes even touching him too (a friendly slap on the arm, fingers brushing at a bullet-graze on his clothes), when you both come across another person and, naturally, he flirts with them too.

And suddenly, it all stops.

You don’t touch anymore, you don’t flirt anymore, hell, you don’t even smile at him anymore, except in this awfully polite, hypocritical way that he hates. The contrast is so brutal that it almost gives him whiplash. But he’s a smart man, and he doesn’t take him long to realize what’s going on.

« Are you jealous ? » he asks in his usual flirty, amused tone, once the other person is out of earshot.

He knows he fucked up instantly, because you clench your teeth so hard the vein on your neck starts pulsing. Your eyes are ice cold when you look at him and answer : « I am not jealous. I just realized I was wrong. »

He feels like his heart fell out of his chest and he wants to throw up. You thought- You were- Oh god. Shit. Fuck. Yeah, he flirted with you because that’s his nature, but when you flirted back he thought you were just joking, matching his energy. Honestly, he didn’t even think about it, the fact that maybe you could catch feelings for him, because usually, people don’t. He’s good for a flirt and a lay but that’s it.

Except now, he does have to think about it. Because you were the closest thing he ever got to a friend, and because he actually really liked having you flirt back, the way it boosted his ego like no one else did before. And the way those tentative touches had him lightheaded, wanting to touch more.

Oh. Oh.

He wants to swear in spanish and english and a few other languages that he can barely speak. But instead he says : « I’m an idiot. » Because he is.

You look at him like you’re waiting for him to tell you something you don’t know, and, yeah, he probably deserves that. So, slowly, as if he’s approaching a feral cat, he takes your hand in his.

« You weren’t wrong. But would you believe me if I said that I hadn’t realized it until now ? »

You close your eyes and scrunch up your face to repress a laugh, but you can’t keep a smile. « Oh my god, » you answer, rubbing at your eyes in amused disbelief, « I do. You’re such an idiot. » you add after a beat.

« I am such an idiot, » he agrees, smiling and looking into your eyes, before bringing your hand to his mouth and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

Jack Krauser

Someone in the chain of command tells him you would be better suited for another team, providing proof with statistics and graphs and all that jazz, and all he says is : « Absolutely not. » before storming out of the room.

He looks cold and in control on the oustside but on the inside ? Oh, he wants to burn that person and their entire family, hell, their entire world alive, for even suggesting that you be under someone else’s command.

And even he knows that’s an overreaction on his part.

He hates it but he does have to wonder why. So he examines your interactions, your missions, the times you fought together, the times you fought against each other, the respect for you that grew and keeps growing still.

The way if anything were to happen to you, he would kill anyone in the room and then bring you back in fucked up RE appropriate ways, because truly, it’s not that he can’t do it without you, but he doesn’t want to.

He grits his teeth when the feeling mounts into the conscious part of his mind and when it hits, he gets so infuriated he crushes whatever is on hand. It’s not good, it’s a weakness, it’s a danger to his purpose.

But it doesn’t have to be. He could use you as added motivation. He could put you in the right place, at the right time, so that the danger posed to you will make him dangerously feral. He can use these feelings to his advantage.

Prepare to be put on the front lines a lot, girlie. And if you do get hurt, you will still be barked at, because it’s your own damn fault. He’s already weak enough for you. Don’t make him weaker.

Karl Heisenberg

He knows he’s an asshole and he knows he’s unhinged bordering on totally insane. An asshole, he always was, but he really blames the madness on Miranda and her experiments and being stuck in this goddamn valley for decades with what is basically a cult and its leaders. It’s like cabin-fever. He knows the only way he could regain sanity would be to get the fuck out, but he also knows that the winged freak would never let him, and that he would just allow her plague to grow if he ever did manage to leave, anyway. So he’s stuck here but every second makes him even madder and angrier, like a nuclear reactor getting closer and closer to explosion.

And he knows that makes him fight with you about stupid shit.

And he knew it was only a matter of time until one of those fights turned really ugly. Because he’s an asshole and he’s unhinged bordering on totally insane.

But he must have done something right because ever since he’s let you stay with him you’ve been growing more and more confident around him, and yes, that also means you’ve been butting heads more, and you haven’t been backing down. He loves that. He hates that. On good days it makes him laugh like a maniac, but on bad days, like today, it makes him absolutely enraged.

He knows he almost blew the entire factory up. He knows he almost killed all his monsters, the villagers, and you. And he knows you know it too. You saw him start turning into the real monster that’s constantly bubbling under his skin, saw his body and face contort into terrifying, inhuman shapes.

He doesn’t know if you ran away. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. Metal was already flying everywhere in a chaotic ballet and the entire factory was rumbling under the force of the power literally pushing at its walls, when he felt himself changing. He saw the panic in your eyes and caught himself, surrounded himself in a thick layer of junk, like a straight jacket, like a weighted blanket, clawed at his own face in the darkness, screamed his voice raw, and when the self-hatred finally passed, he made himself breathe to kill what was left of the rage. The only thing left now was guilt.

The claw marks had healed already, and he was back to his « human » appaearance. But he didn’t dare let his metal cocoon fall away yet. You probably had ran away, actually, a very normal reaction to mortal danger. And he probably wasn’t the same person anymore, in your eyes. Maybe he wasn’t even a person anymore. He had accepted the fact that he was a monster now long ago, and it was only a matter of time until you figured it out too.

He finally comes out of his cage and, yeah, you’re not here. A wise decision. He’s not even mad, really. Just... alone. And it hits him harder than he would have thought. And it also hits him that he fucking got attached. He thought he was too old and too fucked up to develop teenager crushes, goddammit.

He sits down on the nearest chair and lets all of the junk fall to the ground in a deafening cacophony. He used a lot of energy on his outburst and he’s so, so tired now. Thanks to Miranda’s curse, he knows he’ll be right back to his usual chaotic energy in a few hours, but right now he feels the exhaustion in his bones. He leans back on the chair and pulls his hat on his eyes to maybe take a nap, when footsteps echo outside of the room. He raises his chin just in time to see you come in, all straight back and clenched fists. He doesn’t say anything, torn between wonder at the fact that you’re still here, and wonder at the fact that you’re still alive in this valley if your survival instinct is that bad.

« Get up. » you say, your eyes wet and your jaw set. He adjusts his hat back and he does get up, because what the fuck, and you take his hands with trembling fingers and raise his arms a little and examine him like he’s a pickpocket and you’ve found your wallet missing.

But then you ask : « Are you okay ? » with a shaky voice. Oh, you’re really stupid, he thinks, because sweetheart, what are you doing, worrying for the monster who almost ate you up ? But something else stirs in the back of what’s left of his humanity, something soft and fragile, and really, he can’t bring himself to lie.

« I haven’t been okay in a long time. » he snorts derisively. And you fucking sniffle. And ask if you can hug him. He is honestly too stunned to do anything but open his arms for you, and he has to admit that when you snuggle against him, it feels nice. Human. Almost normal, even.

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 is peak boy dad energy!! (Walk with me here…) roughhousing, early morning workouts, teaching discipline and loyalty are what he strives best at with his son(s). Chris is still deeply affectionate in that awkward, earnest Redfield way. He raises strong, compassionate sons…. but if he ever has a daughter? He’s undone. Completely wrapped around her finger and violently protective, just like he was with Claire. I can see Chris having 2-3 kids with his partner!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒 is 100% boy dad. It’s genetic at this point. (Iirc he had 4 brothers). You best believe he wants a loud house, constant chaos, brothers piled on each other, zero volume control. He thrives in it. Teaches his sons humor, confidence, and how to stand up for themselves. The “cool dad” everyone else’s kids like. I can see Carlos having 3-4 kids with his partner!

𝐋𝐔𝐈𝐒 has girl dad written all over him. He’s Soft-spoken, affectionate, playful. Encourages curiosity and creativity, reads bedtime stories, lets her paint his nails. Teaches her intelligence before strength. Emotionally present in a way that surprises everyone who meets him. :,) he would spoil his little girl and quite literally call her his princess. Oh, and you just know she bosses him around. I can only see Luis having one child with his partner!

𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑 gives vibes that he’d want both, like a “traditional” household. He’s harsh on the surface, but deeply protective. Trains his son hard and early with discipline, endurance, control. His daughter though?? Different story. Still strong, still capable, but she gets a softer version of him he doesn’t show often. Would die for either without hesitation, but his little girl is spoiled rotten.

𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 is a girl dad, and no not because of canon (Rose). He’s patient, gentle, endlessly loving. Encourages independence while still being incredibly nurturing. The type to stay up all night if she’s scared, even if he’s exhausted. Would absolutely sacrifice everything for hjs daughter(s) again. I can see Ethan having 1 additional child (after Rose) with his partner. Be that with Mia or with you/your OC!

𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑 has no preference at all. He Doesn’t care whether it’s a boy or a girl since he sees them more as an extension of himself than a child. Hes absent, emotionally cold, and convinced they’ll “figure it out on their own.” If he’s involved at all, it’s for control or legacy. Parenting is… questionable at best. Plus, he already has Jake that he didn’t even care/know about. Children to him are more of a distraction, unless they could benefit him somehow.

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒 is a girl dad!! He’s attentive, protective without being overbearing, and surprisingly good at emotional reassurance. Listens seriously to her feelings, encourages her dreams, and worries constantly about doing things “right.” He’d be so sweet with her, especially in the newborn and toddler stage. I can see piers having one, or maybe two kids with his partner! (In which case he’d want a girl and a boy!) buttttttt. He still gives girl dad energy!

𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 is also a girl dad! Quiet, reserved, but fiercely loving. Protective in a calm, grounded way. Teaches independence and survival skills while still being gentle and patient. Not very verbal, but shows love through actions. She’s his whole world.

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐆 is a boy dad since he embodies pure boy dad chaos. Teaching mechanical skills way too early, encouraging rebellion, proud of every scraped knee. Karl is loud, sarcastic and deeply attached even if he pretends not to be. He wants his son strong, clever, and unafraid of the world. I can only see him having one child with his partner. He loves his son too much and doesn’t wanna split that love with more kids :p

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Chris Redfield 

Prefers to climb into bed and fall asleep ASAP. Feel free to get comfy with him so you can pass out together.

Gives the BEST back rubs. If you need to fall asleep fast just lay on top of him and let him do the rest.

He has nightmares of the friends he's lost, the enemies he's narrowly survived. He'll wake up covered in sweat and shaking.

Don't make a big deal about it; he's had so many of these he's actually kind of bored with his own PTSD symptoms. Just give him a hug and some reassurance.

Sleep on his big man booba all you want but more often than not he'd rather you behave yourself.

Jill Valentine

Can't keep herself off of you. If she's not clinging to you when she falls asleep she will be soon.

Even if it's a hot summer with no working air conditioner she will try to stay away to keep herself from overheating and end up spooning you.

Her nightmares tend to last all night. She'll only wake up from them in the morning, which is when she'll once again try to catch up on all that ruined sleep. with an arm around you.

Leon Kennedy

Chews a couple melatonin gummies every night or else he will not sleep until sunrise

Thankfully he doesn't get those weird dreams a lot of people get when they take melatonin

Anymore

Has very mixed feelings on his own sleep and nightmares. He loves having you by his side but he also hates being too traumatized to function and every night he spends in your arms he fears it will be his last. One day he'll leech off of you too much and you'll push him away.

Another thing to cry himself to sleep about. While you hold him and stroke his hair.

And kiss his forehead.

Claire Redfield

The good thing about going to bed with Claire is all the goodnight kisses

The not-so-good part is what a blanket hog she is

She doesn't need to be there right at the same time as you. She won't make you wait for her and she doesn't mind if you can't wait for her.

If she's in bed second, she'll usually pull the covers up a little higher over you or put her jacket on top of you. Either way you're getting tucked in.

Carlos Oliveira

Opposite of a blanket hog. Kicks those things away from him like he hates them.

You can cuddle with him but he's one of the big beefy armed fellows on this list. Like Chris, once he's got a hold on you, you're not going anywhere unless you've been working out yourself.

Likes to lay on top of you waiting for you to wake up in the morning so he can greet you all smiley and sweet like a dead wife in a flashback.

He's probably got a nightmare to vent about too.

Luis Serra

Another character with some pretty heavy scars, so nighttime is a vulnerable time for him.

He's got this sense that he can't trust the bedroom itself to keep him and you safe.

But he encourages you to be vulnerable with him. Don't be afraid to bare your soul a little.

Whatever else you feel like baring is, of course, something for you to decide. He's not going to be shy.

Likes to sleep with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair freshly washed. I just know he's got some insane bed hair in the morning.

Likes to spoon you and maybe even hold your hand.

Ada Wong

She's a busy woman. If you get a chance to stay the night with her, who knows when you'll get another one?

Maybe you two forgo sleep for a little while in favor of making love. Maybe not. What you do with your one night is also up to you.

She'll hold you and trace shapes on your back while you sleep.

Hopefully she doesn't have to leave early in the morning, but usually she's up with the sun or even before it.

A relationship with Ada is the kind of fast-paced, love behind closed doors love affair you get from a Bond film. She's around, but only for so long before the job takes her elsewhere.

Ethan and Mia Winters

If there's one thing about these two, it's that they have so much love in their hearts. Might explain how it reached you.

They love their cuddles. You are getting cuddled. This is a (lighthearted) threat.

Expect to get the royal treatment of affection from them. They're both sweethearts.

Mia gives the best back scratches and Ethan has such a soothing voice to listen to while he reads to you.

The benefit to having two partners is that if someone's having a rough night, someone will be able to help. Everyone here has been through a lot.

Alcina Dimitrescu

The ladies love a gal so tall she could be your own bed.

Can carry you to bed, which is great if you're one of those people who falls asleep on the couch in the middle of watching a movie.

Booba. Again, behave yourself.

Giant bed, giant gf, you'd never leave if it were possible.

Donna Beneviento

You get used to the dolls in the room.

Once you've seen dolls at all various stages of the process you get desensitized to the softcore gore of it all. Their stares stop looking empty and their stillness stops looking sinister.

Angie sleeps off to one side. Has her own nightgown and everything. Because of course she does.

Donna doesn't keep the veil on but she'll keep her infected side buried in the pillow so that she can look up at you with her one good eye all cute and stuff

Very cuddly once she's warmed up to you, but that's going to take a while because she's so used to it just being her and the dolls. definitely not like me in any way

Salvatore Moreau

Tends to nap a lot, your best bet is curling up on the floor with him during the day

He's not doing so hot most days.

Very sweet when he spoons you or holds your hand.

Give fishy man a forehead kiss, he deserves it.

A romantic night where you both fall asleep in front of the TV while a movie plays is a nice chill date most of the time.

Karl Heisenberg

Getting him to sleep is not easy. He's a night owl and his actual bedroom probably became machine parts storage at some point and he's just set up a "temporary" bed in his workshop

But he can't resist a little quality time with you.

Won't initiate cuddles. He's too awkward about it. Like his sister Donna, he's not used to having another person around. He doesn't know what to do.