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imjustasugablob · 6 days ago

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finally, a breeding kink fic done well

Deserved

Death Island! Leon kennedy x AFAB!Fem! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNi, Breeding Kink, Drinking, Depression, Alcoholism, Creampie, Teasing, Praise Kink, Mentions of body changes, Unprotected Sex, Missionary, Words: 3.4k It's finally here, one of the many breeding kink fics promised LMAO Taglist: @biohazard-4ever (Sorry it changed from damnation to DI)

Life was different now he had you, this angel saving grace that wormed its way into his hardened heart. He was never sure how you did it. How you actually made him excited to come home and see you. Or for him to allow himself to have a slither of happiness for once. Something that the government couldn’t rip him away from because no matter what happened it will always be there waiting for him.

But he couldn’t do that could he? He couldn’t let the one thing that caused to be happy to feel the love he had for them. It was a curse he could never express the right thing. Instead, he had spent the last year allowing the words he wished he said come out in drunken slurs and sprinkled with arguments. He was ashamed at how he allowed the world to rot him, darkened his heart with walls he wasn’t sure neither him or you could break.

The whiplash of him loving you to pushing you away was getting too much. Leon could see it in your face everytime you watched him stumble through the front door. It was getting too much for you and he wasn’t giving you the promises that he made so long ago. You tried, always tried. Gave him the space he needed as well as the love he craved when he came back like a wounded puppy.

You knew deep down it wasn’t his fault, knowing that he didn’t force himself to turn out this way. The late night whispers of what he wanted the future to hold seemed to become far and few in between now spending most of the nights listening to his drunken snores. You would watch as his face released all the tension from his face as the alcohol allowed him that moment of peace. You knew he didn't want this future for the both of you, dreaming of giving you one in the form of little giggles with a living room that would always seem to be covered with childrens toys instead of beer bottles and takeaway.

What kind a father would he be if he couldn’t break this cycle? The whirlpool of hatred he had formed instead of himself. That was until that one night. One where he balanced on the edge of life and death, memories of everything came back to him faster, your sweet smile as you kissed his scars whilst he moved above you. The nights he would press his palm into your lower stomach wondering what it would feel like to have something there whilst you slept.

He had been a dick, such a dick it led him into this moment. Where death whispered in his ear as he stood up and forced himself to finish the fight not only for Chris and Rebecca but for you and all the innocent people who had lost their chance at happiness below him. That one night had changed everything, had built a new fire inside him to give up the drink. To will himself to give you everything he thought he couldn’t have just because you proved he can.

It was comical that he faced death again a year later. The virus caused him to collapse against the cold bars as he struggled to fight it. However, Dylan's words struck him hard. Serving as reminder that will always be rooted deep within himself in a mental collection of how the governments fuck innocent people over. His body grew weaker as the man spoke every word, the cold bars being his only sense of relief.

However, as the vaccine worked its way through his system, his body slowly repairing itself – he thought of you. At home, in the space you kept running for him through his rough patch. A place for him to come back to even when he felt like didn’t deserve it.

The aches were still there; he felt them as he walked down the aeroplane steps, a reminder that he almost lost this chance. That you would have been met with two government soldiers instead of his arms at the airport. It made him sick, that he was so stupid to put this idea off for so long. You could have slipped away from him, out of his embrace and his life because of his actions. He didn’t deserve your kindness that you gave him in the past few years. It was only his chance to repay the favor.

When he saw you the nerves settled in, his brain not quite figuring out if he was asking for you for a child or fighting another tyrant. His head raced with thoughts creating what seemed to be a never ending list of what if’s along with possible rejections that you could line up for him. Each would end up being a stab in the chest but He deserved it he supposed. It’s not like he had been the best partner in recent years. There was no reason for you to do this for him.

Your eyes light up at the sight of the slight spring in his step, rushing towards him as he opens his arms to greet you. The duffle bag landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Hi sweetheart” He whispered in the crook of your neck, his nose breathing in the scent of his home. You giggled at the small spin he gave you, his hand cupping your ass possessively. The fingers digging into the flesh not letting you forget his presence. “Hi” You whispered, pulling back enough to see the stubble that still coated his face, those plush lips curved into his infamous smirk.

It had been a while since he had greeted you like this, guaranteed neither of you had thought the mission would have gone on as long as it did. The time apart allowed you to think about how much you missed him, the silence of the house unnerved you more than anything. One side of the bed is always cold.

You almost left him, gave up on the man he was in favour of keeping the memories of what he used to be. Grieving someone that was still alive was hard, knowing that in their absence they were still suffering and chose to do it alone. His lips and the memory of his body becoming ghost touches as the time he grew apart increased. The idea of burdening you with his problems never stuck right with him, the horrors that haunted his mind didn’t need to haunt yours.

“Finally home” He chuckled lightly as he placed you back on the ground. “Not just yet” You smiled. You knew what he meant, he has spent most of his time professing that his home was not in the walls you shared but in the slither of your heart you allowed him to remain. He followed you blindly, one hand holding the duffle bag and the other clutching on yours tightly as if he will lose you amongst the crowd. He didn’t care that people stared at the two of you as you passed them, weaving yourself through the other people greeting each other and slow walkers. Not when he was looking at you – the slight sway of your hips as you walked, the glance back to ensure he was still there. He would grin back at you, his eyes sparkling as the question swirling around his head like it was another drunken thought.

“I want to have a baby with you”

He spoke allowed as the sound of your car door closed. He cringed at the silence from you that followed, your actions paused in shock. There were better ways for him to ask, ones that weren’t so demanding but at this point he was too far gone in this dream he had created for himself that he refused to think of anything else.

His admission lingered in the air creating a tension that lingered between acceptance and rejection. It was a lot to take in, to consider since it had only been a year since he returned from New York stumbling and weeping about change. Spewing out promises of sobriety that to his credit he has kept. You gave a quick glance at him, his eyes filled with new found hope and devotion. Something you haven’t seen in a long time.

He was being serious.

“Look I know we have had a rough year…and it probably seems too soon but…I can’t think of anything else”

Leon wasn’t sure his rambles were doing anything in his favour, the words almost seemed like a desperate plea for you to forgive him. His brain soured as he spiraled into how pathetic he sounded, that he even had the balls to dare to ask you for more after you already gave him so much.

“Okay, If you think you are ready”

You watched as light brightened in his eyes, the crows feet making an appearance as his smile grew. It was on his terms you wanted this, the stress in his life would only amplify with the new additions. You needed him to be ready. “It’s a lot to take on Leon, a child. I need you to be sure” you implied, your hand landing on his knee drawing his eyes back to yours briefly. Leon nodded, the smile on his face only grew. “I know…I’ve already wasted so much time in life. I don’t want to waste anymore” He whispered. The words felt heavy as they left his lips, finally speaking the true worry that bubbled inside him as he faced death not once but twice in the span of a year.

The thought whilst seeming impulsive was one that he longed for. The world always seemed like you had enough time but he was only 38 and so much had happened. Whenever it was just simply old age or death the window for having children was closing. ��Then let’s not waste anymore time” you smiled at him, squeezing his knee once again forcing his eyes away from the road briefly.

Your fingers teased his thighs as you looked at him slowly inching up the muscle until you cupped him. You smirked as you felt his cock harden beneath your touch. “It’s illegal to distract the driver, don’t you know?” He joked, a low breathy moan spilling from his lips. “Must have forgotten”

Those damn eyes were the death of him. Looking up at him with so much innocence, the smirk however gave you away though. The one that you attempted to hide away behind the bite of your lower lip. He always read you so well, not missing the subtle clench of your thighs as your body was turned towards him. Trying to ease the ache that slowly built up, your walls clenching around nothing. Each small adjustment you made in your seat had the seam of your jeans rub against your puffy clit.

The idea of finding a motel was growing tempting, the traffic only adding to the tension that suffocated the two of you. You could feel him twitch, his cock thickening under your fingers. Small grunts escaping his lips every time you ran your fingers up the zipper – tracing the outline of him. You deserved better than some random motel, better than the needy fuck he was going to give you when he got home. You deserved the candle light dinner, the pretty dress that would accentuate the curves that would soon change.

He wanted to worship you, thank you for sticking by him and then giving him this opportunity. You had lost count of the amount of nights he had spent with his head buried in your thighs praising you but it was never enough not for Leon. Not even when he would be drinking the sweet taste that he scooped out with his tongue. His hips lazily grind against the mattress leaving a smudge of pre cum on the mattress. Leon would never admit it but he deserved this as much as you. The chance for him to finally claim something for himself. Implant and trust a slither of his happiness for you to nurture it – grow it as you already did.

The drive felt too long, the satnav being the only sound in the car as he focused, or attempted to focus on the road. Your heads suffocated with the throbbing need in between your legs. You barely got the chance to take your shoes off when you made it home, his hand clutching your arm tightly as he dragged you throughout the house. Mentally counting each stair like it was a countdown.

You kissed him first, the cherry chapstick that coated them melting on his lips. His fingers entwined with your hair, tugging you closer craving the feeling of you pressed against him. The kiss was hungry, sloppy – filled with the desperation of his actions, the desire to give you a part of himself.

His shirt was the first to go, discarded somewhere in the room landing with a thump. His abs now washed with a light layer of fat he had yet to shed, his drinking days hadn’t fully left him just yet. You felt the muscles in his arms contract as he lifted you with ease carrying you towards the bed. Your shirt was next, the lacy bra that cupped your breasts displaying them perfectly for him.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, watching your reaction or any change of mind. You had made sure he was ready, he needed to hear the words leave your lips. You watched as his eyes softened slightly, his head lowering to nip at the skin across your chest. He knew he was asking a lot, the decision wasn’t one to make randomly. What he didn’t know was that you craved it and wished that everytime he buried himself deeper inside of you instead of yanking his cock out and spilling across your stomach. A waste every time.

“I’m sure”

There was no point sugar coating your answer. It was enough to make his cock throb again anyway. His hands are already working on your bra clasp to remove the offending fabric. “Your body will change” he stated as his lips sucked on the hardened peaks he exposed. Cupping the mounds of flesh and groping them lightly. His eyes remained on your, watching as yours fluttered shut each time his teeth grazed the sensitive bud. “I know it will” You whined, arching your chest towards him, feeding him more of your breast. Leon smirked against the skin, his breath warming the area. You groaned as he let go, moving along to give the other one the same attention. “I just know you will wear it well”

His words throbbed through you, the ache becoming unbearable at this point. “Please– enough teasing”

You watched as he pulled away, a line of saliva connecting your breast to his mouth. The sound of the belt was sharp as he undid it. The metal landing on the floor discarded. You watched as his cock pulled the waistline of his jeans away from his lower stomach, the slither of his boxers you could see was already darkened in color. His pupils were blown out wide as his hands ran down your sides, the touch was barely there until he reached your hips. “Leon-” You whined, hips bucking to draw some form of attention to them.

The air in the room cooling the salvia he had left around your nipples. If only you knew what was going through his head, the thoughts that swirled around in there which caused his grip to tighten. Your pleads and begs only fueled his desire as his eyes flicked back up to you. He undid your trousers with ease, the offending garments discards somewhere in the room. His fingers moved slowly down from your hips to that bundle of nerves that stood puffy and twitching for his attention. Normally he would have caved, too tired and sore for anything else other than devouring you.

Not tonight. Nothing was holding him back tonight; not the bruises that littered across his skin, the scraps that still looked sore to the touch. His weight was held up by the same arm that supported the giant weapon he held up with Chris, he didn’t care if it hurt. It was all worth it, to prove to you his devotion. His need for this new step in life.

Leon flinched as your fingers touched the front of his jeans, he hadn’t realised he was staring at your body. Practically salivating over the changes he already pictured in his mind, the possessiveness of your imaginary swollen stomach sinking deep into his brain. He whimpered as your hand brushed against the wet patch in his boxers, the fabric almost see through from how hard his cock strained against it.

Words failed the two of you as you settled into position, giddy smiles placed on your faces. His cock twitched against your entrance, your hips bucked to meet the slither of pleasure. He swallowed your moan as his cock entered you, stretching the insides of your walls easily. Leon moved slowly at first, his head buried deep in the crevice of your neck, sucking sweetly on the flesh as his hips began to assault you. Each thrust harder than the last as the primal need overtook him.

You only held him, clawed your nails deep into his skin as he hit your cervix again and again. He moved his knee higher up underneath your leg, gently folding your body in itself as he continued to get deeper. His brain is only focusing on driving himself further into you. You drew his attention away from where he entered you back to your face. Capturing his lips into a passionate and messy kiss.

Leon moaned into the kiss as your teeth tugged his bottom lip. Fuck, You looked like an angel underneath him. The warmth of the lamp shining against your smooth skin. Your breasts were bouncing with every sharp movement of his hips. “You are so beautiful” He whimpered against your skin. His lips muttering every word between a kiss along your collarbone. “I’m so lucky”

He felt your walls squeeze him with every praise, small inhales of air causing your chest to arch against his own as your orgasm drew closer. His hand moved to your thigh, hitching it over his hip as he rose. Leon’s form towered over yours, his head thrown back revealing his stubble coated neck. The groans of his desire soon filled the air. You looked down towards where he hammered himself into you, his chiselled stomach clenching at each stroke of pleasure you gave him. You itched to touch him, to be arched closer in a way that you kiss along his chest. Instead your nails scratched along his forearms, your own stomach clenching as you lifted your hips higher.

Leon was deep, deeper than he had ever hit before. His groans turned deep and guttural as he felt you explode over him. Your walls are sucking him further inside, trapping him from pulling out. Not that he wanted to anyway. He moved your legs to your chest, pushing you up higher as he pounded into you, his balls tightening ready to spurt himself inside of you. “I’m ready baby”

Your words broke him out of his trance, his lust blown eyes watching yours as you smiled at him. “You deserve this”

The words were so sweet considering the situation, his chest tightened as you muttered the praises. Ones he didn’t realise he needed to hear.

“I want everyone to know what you did to me tonight. I want everyone to see who deserves my heart”

Each sentence caused his head to spin, his brain unable to focus on anything other than the twitch of his eager cock. The pulsing tip that continued to brush so deep inside of you.

“Please”

Your final beg snapped him, his hips bruising your own pelvis as he finally slammed into you. You felt the warmth spread inside you, the feeling welcomed. His face hovered over yours with his signature smirk. The room was silent other than the panting you both gave off. Your chests meet briefly with each rise and fall. You could feel his cock twitch from where it sat snugly inside you. His seed plugged inside by himself. “Someone needed that” you chuckled as you kissed him, his stubble scraping your cheeks. Leon only chuckled deeply, pushing his cock further inside to remind you of his presence.

“Oh we aren’t done. Not by a long shot”

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imjustasugablob · 12 days ago

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relapse | c.r

masterlist | got a request?

paring: ex!chris redfield x f!reader

summary: you fall back into old habits and into your ex's bed. you never could say no to each other.

words: 6.7k

warnings: 18+ smut, angst, unprotected, chris is reader's ex, alcohol, oral (f receiving), edging, spanking, pussy slapping, squirting, finishing on not in

proof-read by: the beautiful @hwalovs

want a handwritten letter from a character?

It had began as a mistake.

Trauma attracts trauma, as they say, and you and Chris were like a moth and a flame.

Every time you were placed on a mission together, you both knew how it would end - the same way it had began.

As you sat at the hotel bar, nursing your 3rd or 4th drink, you tried to relive the memories of your past mistakes. Tried to urge yourself to recall the reason why you'd refused to go on missions where the Redfield name was mentioned.

This time your commanding officer hadn't been as sympathetic. "They need your skill," he had told you, "Chances of success are low without you," he'd subtly praised.

And you did what you did every time duty calls. Put aside your feelings and focus on the lives you were going to save.

Your grip on your drink tightened as you reminisced about how your dilemma had started. It was about 6 years ago.

You were deployed with a unit like every other mission, things had gone surprisingly well and you'd joined the team for a celebratory drink.

Admittedly, you'd drunk a bit too much so the Captain of the squad took you to your bunk. At least that was his plan. Instead, you had demanded that he take you outside to look at the night sky - he'd protested but you refused to go to bed until you'd seen the stars.

He laid in the mildew grass talking with you for hours; about life, your goals, your fears, and when you'd started to cry in your alcohol induced condition, he held you until you stopped.

The embarrassing part was that you'd tried to kiss him and he quickly pulled away, not wanting to take advantage of your intoxicated state. That sobered you up quite quickly.

When the sun started to come up he took you back to your bunk and the two of you laughed about how it was nearly time for morning drill.

Breakfast came around and you immediately apologised to him for trying to make a move on him, he'd chuckled and told you it was fine, but the reason he pulled away was because he wanted the first time he kissed you to be when you were sober.

Then began your doomed romance with Chris Redfield.

You stood from the bar stool you'd claimed as yours for the night and confidently marched towards the lobby. It had been a year since you'd last seen Chris and a part of you wanted to confront him, and tell him this was the last time he would ever see you again.

It would be different this time. Not like all the other occasions where you'd aimed to tell him the exact same thing; that you were done, and he was gone from your mind and heart.

Except he wasn't.

The relationship between the two of you had started so sweetly, it was ill-fated from the beginning. People in this line of work didn't get happy endings.

It started to go downhill after 6 months of dating.

You reminded yourself of exactly that as you entered the elevator and pressed the numbered button for the floor he was on; he'd ever-so-casually mentioned to you which room he was staying in during debrief.

Dating Chris Redfield wasn't the mistake, the months following your breakup were the mistake.

Despite the two of you never being deployed to the same place while you were together, it seemed like it was unavoidable once you'd split.

The first slip of your judgement was after that first mission; you’d found yourself holding onto the sheet of his bunk while his hands gripped your hips, your naked bodies entwined as though it was the last time they would.

Because he thought it was the last time they would. To him, this was his goodbye to you.

Then it happened again in China, again in France, and countless other countries.

Chris Redfield was a drug you couldn’t seem to recover from.

This time was different.

The elevator rocked to a steady stop, the doors revealing the hotel hallway to you not unlike a stage curtain sweeping away the boredom of reality and presenting the opportunity of an escape.

You stepped out into the hallway of cheaply clad carpet floors and faded white walls; the best the BSAA could offer your squad, the cheapskates.

His door was in front of you - number 98 - just as he had said so boldly earlier.

The screws that held the numbers onto the wood looked rusted and worn, really showing the age of the building; and for a moment the faded silver of the number '8' almost distracted you enough to walk away. To leave, to not confront Chris and disappear from his life silently.

But before your brain could send your feet the signal to move, it had already reached your hand and told it to knock four times. You could've walked away and left him to open the door to the empty hallway, but you couldn't will yourself away from those dishevelled numbers.

He knew who it was without opening the door. He even hesitated with his hand on the handle; he could ignore it, pretend to be asleep and wait for you to leave. To break the cycle that you both kept repeating.

But he didn't.

He opened the door and saw you standing on the other side, he would've thought it was just as he had imagined, but he thought you would've taken your uniform off first and changed.

After a few painfully long seconds of staring at each other he asked "Yes?", you didn't verbally answer, instead you pushed past him and barged into his room.

"Come on in," he said sarcastically as he closed the door behind him and turned to face where you stood, which was in the centre of the room as if it was your own. "What can I help you with?" he asked as he walked over to the desk he was clearly working at prior to your interruption, picking up his half-empty whisky glass and sipping on it.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, "Please," you scoffed, his nice guy act wasn't tricking you this time.

"I'm done." You stated bluntly, trying to hold eye contact with him to firm your point, but he was more interested in swirling the honey coloured liquid in his glass than looking at you.

He hummed in a response, a hum that showed he was either half paying attention or he didn't care, "Are you listening? I said I'm done!" you were more stern with your words this time.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," he said without lifting his eyeline from his glass. "Okay," you unfolded your arms, a flit of uncertainty lined your voice, "Well, that's that then, you'll never see me again," you nodded your head with determination - not that Chris could see anyway - but the quiver in your pitch contradicted it.

You turned your back on him and started to leave the room when you heard, "So I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning for the mission briefing?" he'd said it so casually for a second it felt like a natural next step in the conversation.

"What? No," you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and turned back to face him, getting closer to him than you had before: "I said I'm done, gone from your life for good," the annoyance in your voice was evident.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, dismissing you, and tilted his head backwards and held his glass up to his lips, letting the remnants of the amber liquid drizzle into his mouth. "I mean it!" you step forward so you're directly in front of him, and poke him in the chest with your index to emphasise your point, although not raising your voice.

"We're not doing this anymore," you state prodding his chest with every word. Chris grabbed your hand, enclosing the annoying appendage with his large palm. He placed his glass down on the desk behind him gently, the empty container making a pleasant knock on the hard wood.

He leant back on the desk, finally letting his eyeline meet yours.

"That's what you said last time," he held onto your hand for a moment, his eyes kept your gaze for what felt like hours, his cold blue eyes retained so many memories and you were starting to question whether you wanted to let those go.

Chris released the tension of his grasp so that - if you wanted to - you could slip your hand out from his. "If you want to go, I wont stop you," his voice was quiet and gentle, which made you realise he was also intoxicated.

You didn't move. You kept your hand under his, the warmth of his palm was comforting in a way that only a partner could provide.

"Don't try and be nice to me, Redfield," you shook your head, trying to dislodge the trance your brain always put itself into when you were around him.

He was the one to move his hand away from yours so he could fold his arms over his chest, "Well, I'm not going to be mean to you even if I know th-" he stopped mid-sentence.

"Even if what?" you weren't going to let him get away with it, "No, it doesn't help anyone," he lowered his head but his mouth showed a cheeky smile, as if what he was going to say was amusing to him.

"What doesn't help anyone?" you dipped your head closer to him to try and get him to make eye contact with you again, "Finishing what I was going to say,", "And what were you going to say?", you didn't miss a beat.

He outwardly chuckled, lifting his head but looking off to the side to avoid your eyes again. "You never change," he laughed sadly. "Don't try and change the subject-" you weren't going to let this go no matter how much he wanted you to, "- Now, be brave and finish your sentence," you dropped your voice into a condescending tone.

"Don't.", he warned you but there was no real aggression to it and you felt your stomach flip with excitement, "What? Aww, are you getting shy? I didn't take you for-" you may have gotten a bit carried away with teasing him.

He didn't allow you to carry on before he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you so now you were against the desk and he was standing in front of you, his empty glass becoming a casualty of the situation and landing on the hotel carpet.

His eyes were narrow and staring down at you, the same way he would look at his sparring partner during training; the gaze of knowing that whatever happens next he was in control of it.

"You know what happens when you run your mouth," his words were almost a whisper and his pitch was a lot deeper than before.

When you didn't immediately respond and he'd registered the rabbit-in-headlights look you were giving him, you visibly saw his muscles tighten and he started to move away from you, "Shit, I-I'm sorry."

The corner of your mouth turned up into a cocky smile and you grabbed the collar of his shirt, stretching the black elastic fabric until the fibres wouldn't give anymore, pulling him back towards you so he was even closer.

"Where are you going?" you teased and you felt the air change the moment it hit his ears, "Your indecisiveness is going to kill me," he leaned into you, placing his hands on the desk either side of you, his warm breath tickled your lips.

You batted your eyelids at him, feigning innocence, "I'm not indecisive," you tilted your head to the side to continue your act; he grabbed your jaw gently to straighten your head and to bring your face closer to his.

"Just tell me what you want," his voice was commanding, and the butterflies in your belly started to flap their wings faster. You let him sit in the silence for a moment, drinking in the delicious tension the two of you had created.

"You know what I want," you said slowly and glanced down at his lips as your tongue poked out to wet your own. "I'm going to need you to say it." he insisted.

Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you blinked slowly and let the corner of your mouth curl up into a smirk, "Make me," it was drawn out as though the longer you took to say it, the longer you would have him hooked on your words.

All thoughts of leaving the room had vanished from your mind when he pushed your knees apart and slotted his hips in between them; instinctively you shuffled forward so your bodies were against each other.

There was something about the familiar heat of his body that comforted you in ways no one else had been able to do.

"Words, use them" he urged you in a soft whisper as though he was subtly begging but demanding you. Ignoring his plea, you hooked your fingers into the waistline of his jeans, feeling the soft skin of his stomach against your knuckles, and pulled him even closer.

A grumble left his throat and a tremor settled over his skin. It was short and deep whilst he tried to hide it from you.

"How obvious do I have to be, Chris?" you mumbled against the millimetre of air that separated your lips. Your thumb fumbled with his button until it popped open, releasing both the tension in his jeans and between you.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he quickly and passionately encapsulated your lips. You immediately ran your hands up his back to tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

Your lips disconnected for a second before colliding again, your heart exploded with fireworks that you long thought had burned out as the two of you struggled to balance coming up for air and not letting the kiss end.

Eventually it did, but only so Chris could unclasp the gear that you hadn't taken off. He began with the one over your chest, but impatience made him give up too soon as he moved to unbutton your combat pants and slip them off of your legs. All the while his mouth had moved from your lips to your neck.

He feverishly left trails along your throat and underside of your jaw as though if he stopped you would disappear.

"Please tell me you want this too?" he asked against your jugular, "Don't you dare stop," you breathed back to him and that was enough reassurance for him.

He pulled your underwear off and pushed you backwards so you were fully sat on the table with your feet no longer on the floor, and dropped to his knees. He looped his arms under your legs and settled his face in between your thighs, taking his time to leave small kisses and nibbles along the inside of them.

His teasing didn't last long, it would seem he was just as impatient as you were. He pressed his mouth against your core, flattening his tongue and massaging your clit the way he knew you liked it.

"Oh, fuck!" you yelled a little too loudly for a hotel the moment the warm wetness of his tongue made contact with you, and you laced your hands into his hair as though it was the handlebar on a rollercoaster you didn't want to get off of.

You felt his mouth vibrate against you as a muffled noise left him, you were sure that if he didn't have his mouth full then it would've either been a low chuckle, or a groan of his own.

His grip on your thighs became tighter and his tongue became quicker - you tried to stay sat upright, but the tingling sensation that climbed up your spine made it hard for you to maintain your balance, so you leaned back on the wall for support.

At this, Chris used your new position to pull your body closer to him, dragging you by the crease of your knee, making your shirt ride up against the friction of the desk. At least your head wasn't weirdly bent against the wall anymore, but now all your body weight was in his hands, and mouth.

He stopped for a moment, disconnecting his mouth from your pussy to inhale deeply, "God, I've missed how you taste," he moaned, his lips shimmering with a mixture of your arousal and his own saliva.

Before you had time to reply, he dove back in, removing one of his hands from your thigh and resting your appendage on his shoulder. He instead slid one of his thick digits inside you, pushing past your spit-soaked lips with an embarrassing ease.

Well, it would’ve been embarrassing if you weren’t drunk and his fingers weren’t making your whimpers turn to needy moans.

You struggled to keep your eyes open as his tongue diligently flicked your clit, and his finger curled and prodded inside of you. It wasn't his best work with his hands, but he was also drunk and he was making up for it with his tongue so you could forgive him.

The muscles in your legs started to tense and you could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter in the head with the thought of euphoria only seconds away, "Fuck, Chris. I'm close," you managed to mumble out.

Your walls started to clench and tremble around his finger, with the climax you so desperately missed just on the horizon, when he suddenly stopped and withdrew from you.

"No! No, no, no!" you whined and gently tried to pull his face back towards your core by his hair, but his neck alone was stronger than your arm.

Chris shrugged your legs off of his shoulder and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his top, a smug smile on his face as your essence left a light reflection on the black fabric.

"You're an asshole!" you shuffled yourself into a position where you could at least touch the floor.

"It didn't seem like you thought I was an asshole a few minutes ago," he had a joyful lint to his voice that you hadn't realised you'd missed so much until now.

You scoffed at him, "No, I did. Just because you have some redeeming qualities doesn't mean I don't hate you," you watched him stand up slowly, the time he spent on his knees also making you forget how tall he is compared to you.

Pushing yourself off of the desk to try and intimidate him, your knees buckled and you almost fell, if not for Chris' reflexes.

"Oh, you hate me now too?" his voice was anything but serious, the overarching mockery was all too evident. You nodded confidently but didn't push yourself out of his arms.

"I see," he nodded as his hand trailed down over your stomach and towards your entrance again where he rubbed circles on your clit with his middle finger, "I suppose, you'd also really hate it if I made you cum?" he retorted, and stopped his movements just as quickly as he'd started them.

With heavy breath and shaking legs, you softly punched his chest with annoyance. “Chris,” you whined, “Mhmm?” he replied, his eyelids hooded and ears patiently waiting for you to admit defeat.

Both of his hands were on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles just under your ribcage delicately like a lover, whilst his eyes watched you like a hunter about to pounce on its meal.

Your hands roamed over the hard expanse of his chest and trailed downwards, your fingers tracing the indents of his muscled abdomen as they made their descent to his waistband.

Just as your fingers skimmed the tip of his underwear, he grabbed your wrist and stopped you exploring any further. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, “Don’t make me beg,” you tilted your head to the side and furrowed your eyebrows, “If you want something, you have to ask for it,”, he playfully scolded you.

Impatiently, you twisted your wrist out of his grasp and put your hands on his pecks, pushing him backwards with what little strength you could. Your plan was to get him on his back, then you could work your magic without having to utter a word.

He stepped backwards as you walked him confidently towards the bed, however, just as his legs were about to make contact with the bedframe he swiftly moved to the left, leaving you and the force of your push to topple over onto the bed.

There was an attempt to pick yourself up again, but as quickly as it had began, he’d hooked his hands under your hips and positioned you with your head against the mattress and your ass, unceremoniously, in the air.

“You know what I want to hear,” he grumbled quietly as one of his hands left your hip and roamed the expanse of your exposed ass cheek, “Screw you,” you spat with no venom.

His hand left for a second before coming down onto your cheek with a harsh sounding clap, you attempted to hold back the groan the sting caused you, but the way your back arched was evidence enough to him that he still knew how to make you crumble.

“Now, I know you haven’t forgotten your manners,” he gently caressed the area that he’d just hit to soothe the impact, the area buzzing with warmth as it slowly turned red.

There was a moment of pause as you thought about the best course of action, and a smirk came across your lips, “Go fuck yourse-” was all you managed to say, words cut off by a moan as another strike hit your plump flesh, this one slightly harder than the last.

You laughed to yourself at how predictable his actions were, when that too was cut short by your surprised cry as two of his fingers suddenly filled you completely - jutting in and out of you a few times, then tearing away to rest back on your ass cheek.

You could feel your own arousal being spread on you with every gentle stroke of his hand.

“How many times do you want to do this until you inevitably do as you’re told?” he sighed as if he was already bored of disciplining you.

Apparently the answer was eight. Eight times you’d come up with a new insult to throw his way and eight times he’d responded the same way. A slap to the ass, followed by spearing you open with his fingers - each time becoming rougher and more prolonged, but not enough for you to cum.

He’d never been like this before, normally he would cave and give you what you wanted - he never could resist you.

Something was different this time, and you felt your hold over him loosen with every spank of his hand against your delicate flesh, with every crack of palm meeting rear he tightened the reins of your invisible collar until you couldn’t breathe another word against him.

You opened your mouth to speak and he habitually raised his hand, waiting for the next smart-ass comment to leave your lips so he could punish you.

“Wait, please!” you panted, your voice slightly broken from the high pitched whines he’d been pulling from you.

“Hmm?” the noise vibrated lowly in his throat, you couldn’t see his face from your position but you could imagine his thick brown eyebrow raising ever-so-slightly. “Why should I?” he whispered to you, “This entire time you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass, so why should I not return the favour?”

You thought for a moment. Were you ready to truly take this new Chris out for a test-drive? The unpredictability of him was new to you, you were unsure if you could handle it, but by God you were going to try.

“If you’re going to spank me, at least do it with some effort,” you got about halfway through the sentence before your mouth stretched into a grin.

A growl of annoyance resonated from him and the hand still gripping your hip tightened, you could feel every individual pad of his fingers digging into your bone. He was silent, and you debated whether you’d gone too far, until you felt something warm and smooth caress your folds.

A gasp left you at the familiar sensation. You instantly tried to move your hips backwards to meet him, to feel him fill you so completely the way he used to almost nightly when you were together.

You’d missed the stretch his cock would give you, always too impatient to let him warm you up with his fingers first - the impact of his pelvic bone meeting yours, and the bounce of him so deeply within you, worth the momentary discomfort of adjusting to his size.

But he wasn’t about to delve into your nostalgia so quickly.

Instead, he dipped his cock-head into you briefly and pulled back, never breaching the tight ring of your cunt.

Again, you engaged the muscles of your thighs to try and bounce back onto him, so slide him so effortlessly inside you, but his hold on your hip was firm and unbreakable.

With his other hand wielding his shaft with the same precision he usually saves for the Samurai Edge pistol, he stroked his tip up and down to colour your labia with your residue. As if his cock-head was a paintbrush, and your cunt was the pot of paint he’d chosen for this masterpiece.

He rolled his hips forward, guiding his dick through your lips for his head to bump against your clit, coating his shaft in your wetness.

You knew he hadn’t missed his target, he very rarely did, but just this once you’d wished he’d miscalculated his aim. Wished he’d entered you and hit your cervix with that same force, instead of continuing to abuse your overstimulated clit.

He dragged himself back again until his tip was hovering not-so-subtly over where you wanted it most, he drew miniscule circles into your sensitive flesh, “Are you going to behave now?” his voice was solid and firm with no motion of breakage, unlike yours.

You wanted to say that you wouldn’t. That he would have to make you. However, the repetitive motion of dipping his cockhead into you so you would start to feel him stretch your walls to gain entrance to your warm velvety insides, but not enough for your body to accept him, was causing a lapse in your determination.

The lack of response from you wasn’t the answer he wanted, causing you to feel another sudden slap to your ass and the subsequent sting in the outline of his palm on your skin.

“Words!” he commanded and your back arched again as he used the same tone he does during training drills. “I-” you started to say, but couldn’t come up with something witty fast enough before he submerged his cock-head again with the accommodating slap against your cheek.

It was too much all at once; the teasing of his dick, the spanking, his iron-grip on your hip, and his voice.

Ordinarily, you could combat these things with ease. Push back against him and throw a mocking comment his way, but it was too overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled out, the bedsheet sticking to the side of your mouth as you spoke from the saliva you’d accidentally dribbled onto it.

“Sorry?” Now, he was the one to mimic your usual sarcasm, “I don’t want your sorry, I want you to obey,” he spoke through gritted teeth but there was no aggression, just warning.

You nodded your head against the covers, “I will, I promise,” the rate at which you spoke made your words slur, you were surprised if he was able to understand you.

Your babbling was a language that Chris had become an expert in. Maybe he’d gone further than he was planning to tonight, but that didn’t stop the greedy smirk that laced its way onto his lips.

He wasn’t showing it, but he too was barely holding onto his restraint. Normally, he would ask more of you in terms of verbal submission, but he’s inadvertently teased himself as well.

He hummed with appreciation as he put more pressure against your hole, fighting against the muscle momentarily before it gave way, allowing his cock to slide into you fully until his groin met with your ass.

You moaned loudly at the intrusion, feeling the stretch burn within you. Usually he would allow you time to adjust and wait to feel your walls relax around him before he began his assault, but he wasn’t feeling so generous after the performance you gave him.

He grasped your waist with both hands as he quickly withdrew from you almost all the way, then quickly and sharply pulled you back to meet his thrust.

Another moan came from you, louder and more high pitched than the last. Then a turrent of them flew from you with every rough thrust of his hips and haul of your waist - your head bobbed back and forth at the rapid momentum, reminding you that your body was not your own anymore, it was his.

“Still take me so well,” he groaned between thrusts, between watching his cock disappear inside you, only to reappear wetter and shinier.

You hoped he wasn’t actually looking for a response because the only words your brain could form were desperate pleas for him, and there was just a slither of your pride left for you not to utter those aloud.

Instead, you stretched your arms out in front of you and curled your fingers into the soft fabric of the covers, giving you enough of an anchor to try and bounce back onto him. Not that it actually did anything with the bruising hold he had on you.

He snapped his hips particularly harshly and a strangled yelp ripped from your throat. His right hand left your hip and grabbed the back of your neck with force.

He manoeuvred your head so you had no choice but to look back at him, meeting his eye again for the first time since he put you in this position.

“Is my pace not enough?” he asked in a scolding manner. He tilted his head to the side and clenched his jaw, it lasted for a second before it shook itself open with a ragged pant.

Your eyelids fluttered closed as a particularly well placed thrust had his cock spearing into you at the perfect angle, setting a tingle of flames up every vertebrae of your spine to seep over your skull.

“Eyes on me!” he snapped at you with a breathy voice, and you forced your eyelids to follow his order. He was still your commanding officer, and some habits refuse to die.

His cold blue irises held your gaze with a fierce strength, he dared you to look away again, but you couldn’t.

His jaw was set under a stubble he wasn’t going to shave, the muscles and tendons in his neck strained with every buck of his hips, and a singular bead of sweat trickled down his jugular.

This wasn’t physically exerting him in any way, he was a strong and agile man, but the furrow of concentration in his eyebrows matched with his tongue darting out to wet his lips, told you he enjoyed fucking you as much as you enjoyed letting him.

The incessant creaking of the bedframe and the bang of the headboard against the neighbouring wall was the accompaniment to your whines of pleasure, your sounds that harmonised to Chris’ own quiet moans.

His eyelids flickered as his eyes rolled back into his head for a second, “Fuck,” he groaned and somehow increased the speed of his hips, sloppily fucking in and out of you.

He tightened his grip on the back of your neck and you felt your spine start to bend painfully at every thrust of his hips.

He still had your body memorised inside and out, it was engraved on his brain. He dragged your torso up off of the bed - knowing that if he continued to plow into you the way he was, he would do some real damage to your back which he wanted to avoid - and placed you firmly against his chest.

The change in angle meant he needed to rearrange his hold on you. His arm rested between the valley of your breasts, whilst his large hand tilted your head backwards to maintain that eye contact he so desperately wanted; his thumb secured your head in place with its position just below your earlobe.

Your mouth was so close to his but you wouldn’t dare kiss him again unless he asked. As if you could do anything other than moan and take whatever he gave you, then attempt to dribble out a thank you afterwards.

His other hand left your hip to clasp both of your wrists in front of you, “You’re mine, you know that?” he muttered to you between heavy pants, so quiet that the rhythmic thump of the headboard almost drowned it out.

“You’ve always been mine, and you’ll continue to only be mine,” his voice was louder, more possessive than before as he grit his teeth. You opened your mouth to try and reply but a pathetic whine was your only response.

He smiled savagely at how you melted so easily under his command. He opened his mouth and your heart leapt at the prospect that he might give you what you were silently asking for, but when his teeth bit down on your cheek, you knew the time for being affectionate was nowhere in sight.

His bite wasn’t hard, it was a playful nibble at best, but it would leave an indent of his teeth for the next hour, of that much you were certain.

There wasn’t any time for you to complain over it as the hand, which was still holding your wrists, released one of his fingers so he could circle your clit.

If he wasn’t so accustomed to how your body reacted to him, the sudden jolt of your hips may have caused him to slip out of you and ruin the position entirely. However, as you moved, he bucked his hips and drove his cock deeper into you as he used your own hands to keep you in place.

“You remember how to cum for me, don’t you?” he purred into your ear. You attempted to nod your head but his hold was steadfast, so instead you whimpered in between moans.

The hammering pace of his cock, matched with the speed he played with your clit was a deadly concoction which only ended with you giving him exactly what he wanted.

You could barely control the tremors that rocketed through you. You were on the edge of euphoria, completely drunk on both alcohol and Chris Redfield, so much so that you hadn’t realised the string of high pitched ‘Please’s that you recited like a mantra.

“You can do it for me, can’t you?” he whispered in your ear like a siren call luring you off the boat and into the ocean, “Let go, you can do it,” he praised, but his hand contradicted the soft coo of his voice as he let go of your wrists and traded it for a harsh slap to your clit.

His fingers immediately took up the space that stung from the impact, circling and flicking at you with an intensity you’d known him only to have in the middle of a mission.

You weren’t sure what was holding onto you, but you prayed to every God, Deity and Patron - anyone that would listen - to let you go, to let you fall deeply into bliss with him.

Someone listened. As he lifted his hand for a second time and left three more quick and light slaps against your clit, you felt all the tension your body was holding ramp up and then suddenly let it all go again as you involuntarily clenched hard around him.

It was like your body went into shock at how stiff you became, he knew what came next. The two of you had done this dance so many times that he knew when you were about to miss a step.

The hand that was holding your jaw quickly slipped up to cover your mouth as you closed your eyes and screamed into his palm, your cunt pulsing around his cock and squirt gushing onto the bedsheets in front of you like a fluctuating stream.

You couldn’t control it. As much as you wanted to squeeze your thighs together and stop what was happening, your body physically wouldn’t move - other than the tremor that flooded you.

Eventually, your muscles returned to you and your chest heaved whilst trying to catch your breath under his hand. You thought you were done, but Chris wasn’t slowing down.

He let go of you, only to push you back down onto the bed with his hand pressing the side of your face into the mattress, mere inches away from the mess you’d made.

He leaned over you, the warmth of his chest laid flat against your back as he fucked into you relentlessly. Harder and faster than he had at any point during the night, or during your relationship.

Every buck of his hips was like a wild animal getting faster and faster as it closed in on its meal attempting to escape his line of sight.

His teeth suddenly found their place in your shoulder and bit down harshly as your soft flesh muted the animalistic moan that climbed its way out of his throat.

His thrusts were erratic, completely off of any rhythm he’d set previously and he finally allowed himself to cum.

He swiftly pushed himself back onto his haunches, and pulled out of you in the same motion. Wrapping his hand around his shaft, he jerked his cock until he came with a loud and prominent “Ah, fuck!”, his sticky ropes painting your ass beautifully.

There was a long moment of almost-silence. Only the sound of the two of you separately trying to catch your breath, and the cogs in your brains turning to try and make sense of what had just happened.

Eventually, Chris got up from where he was kneeling on the bed and grabbed a handful of tissues off of the desk you’d nearly destroyed. He wiped himself off your skin and then dabbed himself dry, pulling up his jeans with only a slight jingle of his belt.

You sat up on the bed, stretching your back and hearing a few clicks that you’d certainly feel over the coming weeks.

It was awkward. The same way it was every other time the two of you fell into this cycle.

He briefly made eye contact with you as he handed you your combat trousers and gear off of the floor.

Defeat. That’s the look he was giving you. Exasperated, and disappointed defeat.

He’d let you in again, allowed you to worm your way into his desires, the same way you had let him crawl inside your chest and rest next to your heart like he’d never left.

It was only ever temporary, these brief moments you’d have together. For a moment you wondered if you could make it work, if there was still a spark worth kindling into a flame between you, but then he looked away. His eyeline setting on the curtains instead of you.

“I'll see you tomorrow for the mission briefing,” he spoke coldly, folding his arms over his chest, but the lint of longing - a hope that you might fight him like you always did, ask him if you could stay the night instead.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” you replied, a stone as hard and stubborn as his own reflecting back at him.

Once you meant the world to each other; now just a continuous mistake, a toxic habit neither of you could break.

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