Parallelisms⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🚨🪽

leon from january 27th

hi hewwo💤

leon you’re the best i love u

resident evil 3 remake:

Carlos commenting on stuff

a little study of his face

aggie doodle with fren! @mukikori

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

NOT SO MESSY

✮‧₊ 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 :)

✮⋆˙₊⋅ ୨୧ ᝰ.ᐟ

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.

ˑ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

how to use tumblr:

- follow the gimmick blogs. thats literally it they reblog good shit

- I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, reblog posts (dont just like them thats lame.)

- there is no algorithm.

- interact with people!!! SEND ASKS (SEND ME ASKS SEND ME ASKS)

- when blocking porn bots, mark them as spam instead of sexual content. i read somewhere on here that gets rid of them faster

- check trending every now and then to see whats going on. bonus points if spn is trending (its the only way i get news)

- get involved in fandom! thats the whole site

- make sure you are having fun :)

- hydrate

- who cares if you have followers? nobody. this is no mans land baby! live like its 2010 but 10 years later!

- if you’re really new, customise your profile. people might think ur a bot if u dont. u will get blocked

- nobody cares what you reblog. if you want to reblog 20 billion posts about loki then do it! its your blog!!!

- spread positive vibes. be nice. its not that hard.

- no ai.

- go read some yaoi nerd

- use tags, at least on original posts

- use gifs

- if you make a post and somebody reblogs your post and you like their reblog? you just liked your own post lol

- don’t like, don’t read/interact. same goes for ao3 and literally anything else. its not worth your time babe move on.

me n the gang on tumblr:

LEON KENNEDY TWT LINKS

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

sentinel - re4r bodyguard!Leon x college student!reader.

Leon offers you a piggyback ride.

more adventures with bodyguard!Leon can be found here and here.

The ache in your heels feels so good, hands gripping Mia's with a huge smile plastered on your face as you bounce off beat to the music. The atmosphere is lovely; conversation drowned out by the music, bodies huddled together in someone's house, a makeshift bar standing in almost every corner.

You stifle a giggle when you notice a flash of Leon's blond mop, obscured from your view with the expanse of the makeshift dancing floor between you. You know he's not happy to be here, something about being "too old for this kind of crowd" that had made you roll your eyes, reminding him that he was barely even thirty and also without a choice.

He blended in well enough, a black ensemble of t-shirt - god were all his shirts so tight - and pants and his leather jacket that was probably hanging around somewhere. Leon would blend in better if he lost that permanent scowl on his face, offering you one whenever you would give him the suggestion.

Mia pulled you towards her, helping you avoid crashing into a particularly drunk person stumbling behind your back. You shared a look with her before dissolving into a fit of giggles, the alcohol finally catching up to you, not so much to plaster you but enough to make the world fall away a little.

"Here you are ladies," Johnny greeted cheerfully, red solo cups in both hands and a plastic water bottle stowed under his arm.

"Oh thank god," Mia groaned, taking one of the solo cups and immediately taking a swig. "All this dancing is killing me."

You laugh at your friend, wiping her lip as some of her drink dribbles out, "God Mia, I raised you with better manners than that."

Johnny gives you a kind smile, handing off the water bottle to you. You like him, he's nice, good company, makes Mia laugh louder than anyone else and always makes sure she's okay. "Hey uh, I don't know how this fits in your whole situation but I think your guy may be in need of some rescuing," He nods behind you.

You turn, confusion etched on your face. 'Your guy'? Leon and him needing rescuing? What a laughable sentiment. The ball drops in your stomach when you finally spot him, Johnny's words making sense.

Leon's practically pressed up against the wall, defiantly looking anywhere but at the trio of girls that have him surrounded. All pretty nails, giggling forms and trying their hardest to take him home. Anywhere is more fun than here, they say to him, batting their eyelashes.

You want to laugh, so bad, but something stops you, maybe it's the acidic sensation that's beginning to pool in your stomach. His face drops down, locking eyes with you across the room, the crease in his forehead flattening. The rumble of the music falls away, the ache in your feet fading into the background.

Your eyes flicker to the swipe of one of the girls hands across his chest and you find yourself moving, muttering a "I'm gonna head out" to Mia. Leon's gaze doesn't stray from you, keeping you in sight as you approach.

It fills you with satisfaction when he straightens, shuffling away from the girls and coming to meet you halfway. You can practically see the "Are you okay?" lingering on his lips but you beat him to the punch. "Let's get out of here."

And it doesn't take long for the two of you to exit, smirking at the girls who can only watch you walk away with Leon, jackets on and beginning the walk back to the dorms. It's a nice night, quiet with no one around as you walk through campus grounds, your heels clip-clopping satisfyingly against the ground.

Leon strays behind you, not too far but not too close, his presence a comfortable warmth in the cool breeze. Your heel catches in one of the cracks, making you stumble with pathetic grace thanks to your drinking. But before you meet the cold pavement, a hand steadies you on your forearm, calloused fingers gentle against your skin.

You look up, nose only a hairs breadth away from Leon, your stomach lurching at his close proximity, the cerulean blue irises focused fully on you, searching your face.

"Are you drunk?"

"What are you a cop?" You shoot back.

The corners of his lips twitch upwards. He sighs, guiding you to one of the benches and gingerly making you sit down. You blink at your hands, finally remembering the bottle of water that you were holding. You go to open it, only to have it swiftly plucked from your grip, a quick twist of the cap and then thrust back in your palms, Leon's own encouraging you to take a few sips.

He crouches down infront of you, looking distastefully at your footwear. "I'm surprised you haven't started complaining about your feet yet."

You hold away the bottle from your lips, offering it to Leon silently, unable to find the cap. His palm comes up, wrapping around the bottle, engulfing your hand in it's warmth, the sensation shooting up your arm, making you avert your eyes from his.

You focus on the ground, hand still in his as he twists the cap shut. "I was just warming up. What would you like for me to start with?"

Leon's fingers brush over your thigh, lingering for a second, the feeling electric under his touch, as he stuffs them back into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Your bad choice in choosing shoes."

You gasp offended, straightening your leg to show him your heels, "These are designer! How dare you?"

"And how do your feet feel?"

You huff, folding your arms over your chest defensively, mumbling, "They hurt."

"What's that?" God, that teasing tone.

With a harsh roll of your eyes, you say again but louder, "They. Hurt." You shake your head, "We're still a long way from the dorm and you best bet I'm gonna chew your ear off about- what the fuck are you doing?"

Leon's turned away from you, back to you as he's still leaning. He gestures to him. "Hop on?"

"Excuse me?" You ask incredulously.

"You said it yourself," He shrugs, "We're a long way from the dorm. And I'd rather not explain to your father that the reason his daughter has a beat up face is because she got plastered at a party and fell on the ground face first."

Fury rises in your chest, "I am not plastered!" He doesn't respond. And you don't relent. "I weigh a lot."

At that he turns around with a raise of his eyebrow, an unimpressed look on his face. You grow heated under it, fingers fiddling your thumb. "I can walk by myself."

Leon sighs, turning fully to face you again, looking up from his bent position. He puts one hand beside your thigh, other hand coming up to fix the collar of your jacket, making it more tighter around your body. "I know," He hums, taking a softer approach, like you're a deer ready to scamper off at any moment. "But you don't have to do everything by yourself."

You gulp, almost wanting to curse the celestial beings hung up on the sky and how they always soften Leon under their glow; the sun, the moon and the stars united in their agenda. The iridescence of the moon almost offers him a halo, deepening the shade of his baby blues. And it all makes it so hard to say no.

"Okay," You whisper.

Leon positions himself again, your heart beating quicker as you slide your hands over his shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscles underneath. His big palms come to rest on your thighs, pulling them firmly against his waist and locking them. Leon airily asks if you're ready, you tighten your grip around him and nod. And he stands, without any hesitance, without any stagger. Your rock.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, his hair strands tickling your face, caressing your cheeks with the scent of his vanilla shampoo. He feels warm, back sturdy on your chest and fingers secure under your thighs. You thaw under his heat, unravelling defiance from your form, settling comfortably in his assuring grip.

"Thank you," You mumble against his ear, the ache in your feet a memory of the past.