#chris redfield × you

[northernthiefcranberry]

trigger warning: panic attack

...

It was a peaceful night. You didn’t even remember how you fell asleep to the faint and measured noise of the city outside the windows. A deep dark sleep pulled you into its warm cuddle… until, after some time, you began to feel restless. You were almost aware of your dreaming, but your brain felt heavy. You literally felt a nightmare, but couldn’t grasp its meaning. Just the indescribable feeling of that chase, during which you are perfectly aware that you’re already doomed to die, but you continue to crawl with your last strength. You seemed to be suffocating, it was total murk in abysmal slumber, no chance to see anything, just a feeling of cold horror...

You woke up with a jerk, opening your eyes. Sat up carefully, trying not to wake Chris, and looked at the clock – 3:46. The room was dark, calm and quiet – but you were shaking. You brushed a veil of tousled hair out of your face, throwing it behind your back. The strap of the fabric bra slipped off your shoulder, but you didn’t even reach out to adjust it – you were just trying to breathe.

Chris, a light sleeper by nature, stirred softly as you sat up suddenly. His eyes slowly opened, his attention was caught on your movement and hunched figure. He felt the space beside him where you sat, and vaguely sensed your restlessness.

“Hey,” he mumbled sleepily, his voice heavy with concern. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

He slowly sat up as well, one large hand gently grasping your shoulder, pulling you into a warm embrace. You wanted to answer, really, but couldn’t – you could barely gasp for air, feeling something like a chill sliding through your body fettering your limbs. You pressed yourself tightly to Chris’ chest and closed your eyes, literally drowning in a warm and firm embrace.

You were shaking and had the distinct feeling that you were going to die right now. And although your mind pushed away this absurdity with all its might, your body became petrified and refused to function, you couldn’t help yourself.

Chris wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close against his body. He sensed your shaking and your distress, and he gently rubbed soothing circles on your back, trying to comfort you.

“It's okay, sweetheart,” Chris whispered, his voice sounded steady. “You're safe. I'm here. Nothing can hurt you. Just breathe in slowly.” He continued to cradle you in his arms, his presence like a rock amidst the storm of your emotions. “Breath in. Then, breath out. Breathe with me.”

You literally forced yourself to do every inhalation and exhalation; it almost hurt. It seemed that your own legs were being lightened and taken away. The only thing that was real, important, tranquil – it was only Chris. You understood that he was nearby, and for some moments that was the only sensible and stuck thought.

You couldn't even grab hold of Chris. It was as if your body was trying to curl up into a ball without your own knowledge and simply prevent itself from dying.

You breathed raggedly through parted lips and squinted your eyes as hard as you could.

Chris continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you like a protective wall – something between a warm blanket and hard steel. He felt your struggling and gently pulled you closer, attempting to soothe you further. He murmured to you in a low, a bit rumbling tone, his voice so steady against your inner chaos. “You're not alone, sweetheart. I'm right here with you. You're safe with me. Just focus on the sound of my voice and your breathing. You're not dying. You're going to be okay.”

You didn't even know how much time had passed. Sometimes you actually felt like you stopped breathing – simply forgot to take the right breath in or out, and your chest froze. But Chris' voice, deep and slightly hoarse, his words that you were not dying echoed in your head.

Every touch seemed real and imaginary simultaneously. The skin was burning and cold at the same time. The mind was completely empty, frozen in horror, as if in ice. You wanted to cry, but couldn't – the tears simply wouldn't come to your eyes. You almost stopped understanding where you were and what was happening to you, but just felt the warmth of Chris and his voice. He held you through the waves of your horror, his touch was gentle yet firm. He continued to rub soothing circles on your back, his own breathing slowly evening out as if to model yours. He felt you shaking in his arms, the raw panic coursing through your body like the freezing edge of a blade.

“It's okay,” Chris whispered, and his voice was like black velvet. “I'm here. Just keep breathing with me – in and out. You're so strong...”

Gradually your heart and breathing began to calm down, the trembling of hands subsided, although your palms and feet were still very cold. Chris felt your gradual transition from panic to calm, and he held on, his arms still around you. He could feel the warmth slowly returning to your body, the shuddering subsided.

You revived when suddenly clearly felt that you had pressed your face into the crook of Chris' neck and pressed your lips, dry from improper breathing, into his skin. You barely swallowed, your mouth dry. Your fingers, as if numb, somehow lay on Chris' shoulders, barely clenching, trying to hold on. You gradually again made out sounds other than Chris' whisper and his heartbeat, little by little your weary body distinguished between cold and warmth. You shuddered again, but this time it was already clear, understandable and normal – you trembled from the first sob and finally began to cry quietly.

Chris didn't speak but listened as the silence between you slowly filled with your soft sobbing. His own heartbeat had slowed, but the steady rhythm was still there, a testament to the deep love he had for you.

He whispered gently, still so calm and quiet. “I'm right here. Let it out. I'm right here, love.”

You just cried for a while, feeling like you needed to release the tension. The body shed so many tears to compensate for all the horror and everything that had accumulated in itself before. The minutes flowed away along with the drops on your cheeks, endless, like the dark abyss inside you.

But gradually you calmed down and became quiet, wiping away salty tears. Only then were you able to raise your eyes, still clinging to Chris, and ask in an almost inaudible stuttering whisper:

“Wh-what... the hell was that?”

You had never experienced anything like this, and now, in the remnants of shock, you clung to Chris like a little girl. He gently brushed away some of your tears with his thumb. He kept one arm around you, holding you close.

“You had a panic attack,” he said gently. “A very tough one. But you're all right now.” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his lips brushing your hair.

You vaguely remembered something: Chris and some other agents mentioned panic attacks that occurred with those who past hot spots or terrible stress. But in all your years you had not had a single panic attack, and now you just hoped that this feeling would pass.

“I... I felt like I was going t-” you looked back at the clock and gasped. “God, it's been over an hour... and you've been sitting with me this whole time?”

In response, Chris nodded at you and hummed softly into your hair.

“Don't look at how much time has passed. Panic attacks are not a five-minute thing.”

You still felt a bit guilty that Chris was awake for an hour in the middle of the night because of you, but... if it weren't for him, you would... you don't know what could have happened to you. You gently pressed your cheek to his chest and sincerely whispered: “This is terrible... If you had this once, if it suddenly arises, don't be silent, okay? No one... no one should go through this alone.”

You felt exhausted and weak to the point of disgust.

“And thank you... my hero. It’s thanks to you that I didn't go crazy.”

Chris gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in a slow, soothing motion. He listened to your words, and they made his heart ache a little. He knew very well what you were talking about – having experienced panic attacks on his own, he had never told anyone what torment these were.

He held you a little closer.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Chris said quietly, the promise ringing in his tone. “Let's sleep a little more, okay?”

You nodded, feeling Chris’ warm lips on your cheek, and snuggled closer to his side as you lay back down in bed. His pulse, loud beating of big heart in his chest, doubled with yours.

No one should go through this alone.

[sh0esuke]

" A Trip To Paris "

���𝗲𝘁 𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗰𝗲̀𝗻𝗲 : Chris Redfield

𝗥𝗲́𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗲́ : "A mes copains du S.T.A.R.S.,

Comment ça se passe au commissariat ? Vous tenez le coup face au vieux Irons ? Moi, je reviens tout juste d'un rencard avec un avion de chasse. Je vous laisse imaginer ce qui s'est passé sous son grand parapluie.

L'Europe, c'est génial. Un mois ne suffit pas pour avoir ne serait-ce qu'un aperçu. Je vais peut-être prolonger mes vacances de six mois.

Barry, n'envisage même pas de me rejoindre. Tu voudrais pas faire peur aux jolies filles, hein ? Alors laisse-les moi.

Jill, si Claire essaie de te contacter, dis-lui que je vais bien."

𝗔𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 : rien

ENG : PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORKS. If you want to translate it, ask me first then we can talk about it. If you want to find me on Wattpad or AO3, my accounts are in my bio, these are the ONLY ONES i have. FR : MERCI DE NE PAS VOLER MES OS. Si vous avez envie de les traduire, merci de me demander la permission avant. Si vous voulez me retrouver sur Wattpad ou AO3, j'ai des liens dans ma bio, ce sont mes SEULS comptes

𝙽𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚜 : 𝟗𝟗𝟔

Commentaires, likes et reblogues super appréciés. Tout type de soutien l'est, merci beaucoup !! <33

Déjà un mois que nous avions atterri en Europe, plus précisément en France. C'était des vacances bien méritées, autant pour Chris que moi, une occasion en or d'oublier nos travails respectifs et de nous ressourcer l'un auprès de l'autre. Qu'est-ce que ça nous faisait du bien.. Jusqu'à présent, tout se déroulait à merveille. Je n'aurais pas pu espérer mieux.

Ce genre de pensées inondaient mon esprit depuis ces derniers jours. Parfois, j'avais cette redoutable impression que notre situation était trop belle pour être vraie. Je m'en réjouissais.

« Chris, chéri, tu es là ? »

Je sortis de la salle de bain de notre hôtel après y avoir passé une petite heure dedans, une serviette reposait dans mes mains, ma chevelure trempée était secouée dans tous les sens par celles-ci. J'étais nue aussi. L'air frais dans la chambre me fit immédiatement frissonner, contrastant avec la fournaise qu'était la salle de bain.

« Il fait une de ces chaleurs sous la douche, » m'exaspérai-je. « T'es sûr qu'on peut pas— Chris ? »

Chris était assis sur le canapé de la chambre, courbé sur la table basse. Le fait qu'il soit recroquevillé sur lui-même me surprit.

« Mon amour, qu'est-ce que tu fais ? »

Chris releva la tête, il me vit avancer jusqu'à lui, je cherchai à voir ce qu'il faisait ⸺un grand pot de fleurs posé au milieu me gênait la vue⸺. Le sourire qui prit place sur ses lèvres me rendit embarrassée. Ça avait été immédiat, à peine m'avait-il remarquée que son visage s'était illuminé, comme un enfant devant un sapin de Noël. Je laissai ma serviette se coller à ma poitrine, elle tombait de manière à cacher mes seins et mon entrejambe.

« J'écris une lettre. »

Sa d��claration me prit de court. J'allais jusqu'à douter de lui, cependant, je ne pus réfuter quoi que ce soit lorsque je le vis me tendre un bout de papier sous le nez.

« À qui ? Claire ? »

J'enroulai la serviette autour de mon corps, me considérant assez habillée, je contournai la table basse et m'assis juste à côté de mon copain. Ma curiosité avait été assez titillée comme ça. Et si Chris le désirait, je me ferais un plaisir de lire sa petite lettre. Le bout de papier pressé entre mes doigts, je le lis.

« Ooh, c'est pour tes collègues. »

Ma remarque le fit sourire, Chris passa son bras autour de mes épaules.

« Qu'est-ce que.. »

Je lui jetai un coup d'œil sévère.

« C'est moi "l'avion de chasse" ? Tu te fiches de moi ? »

« Quoi ? »

Mes yeux passèrent au peigne fin le premier paragraphe. Je le relis avec ardeur.

« Chris, je vais t'étriper. »

Au lieu de s'expliquer, de s'excuser, de se mettre à genoux et de me supplier de le pardonner, Chris déposa une traînée de baisers sur ma peau. Elle était encore humide. Quelques gouttes d'eau avaient perlé, elles coulaient de ma mâchoire jusqu'à mes épaules, mon copain se chargea de les récolter.

« Je mens pas, pourtant. » me susurra-t-il toujours en m'embrassant. « J'ai bel et bien eu un rencard avec ce super avion de chasse vachement canon. Le fait que tu sois mon avion de chasse y change rien. »

Ses lèvres baisèrent ma gorge.

« Je— Hum, je t'emmerde. »

Je penchai la tête de l'autre côté pour lui laisser plus d'espace. Chris en profita, il déplaçait ma chevelure trempée sur le côté et se jetait sur moi. Je fis retomber sa lettre sur mes cuisses, je m'y accrochai, mon cœur tambourinait dans ma poitrine. Sa chaleur irradiait. Elle me brûlait l'épiderme. Sentir ses immenses mains me toucher les mollets afin de me maintenir en place me rendait dingue. Chris déplaçait mes jambes pour qu'elles puissent se retrouver sur ses cuisses, je finissais de profil contre lui. Il passait ensuite son bras autour de ma taille, moi, mes bras autour de sa nuque.

Finalement, nos lèvres se rencontrèrent.

J'embrassai Chris à répétition. Je l'embrassai, me reculai, l'embrassai à nouveau et continuai ce cercle vicieux jusqu'à l'entendre se mettre à rire. Mes yeux s'ouvrirent tandis que mes mains attrapèrent son visage en coupe. Mes paumes plaquées sur ses joues, je toisais avec grande attention mon petit ami.

« Pas très flatteuse quand même, ta lettre. » maugréai-je.

Il déposa son front contre le mien.

« Tu veux que je la réécrive ? »

« Non, c'est bon. »

Je baisai sa joue.

« Je trouve ça mignon. Je savais pas que toi et tes collègues vous envoyiez des lettres, ça dure depuis longtemps ? »

« Pas spécialement. »

Chris serra ma cuisse de sa main.

« Je voulais leur donner des nouvelles, ça me fait bizarre de plus être sur le terrain, de plus m'occuper de la paperasse. »

« Mhh, pareil. »

Chris détourna le visage pour embrasser le derrière de mon oreille.

« Pas que ça me déplaise. » il grogna. « Je t'ai enfin pour moi tout seul, ça, c'est des vacances. »

Ses propos me firent glousser.

Je serrai le haut de ma serviette avec mes deux mains, me sentant soudainement gênée par le fait que nous étions aussi proches l'un de l'autre. Chris était fantastique. Il n'échouait jamais à me faire rajeunir, chaque instant passé à ses côtés, je me sentais adolescente. Avec les fameux papillons dans le ventre, les gloussements frôlant le stupide et ce sentiment d'embarras qui me submergeait sans cesse lorsqu'il passait trop de temps à me regarder dans les yeux. C'était quelque chose qui n'avait jamais changé, pas même avec les années.

Chris mordilla mon lobe d'oreille. Je sursautai.

« T'es bouillante, bordel. »

Mon corps fut parcouru de frissons.

L'envie de me justifier me força à ouvrir la bouche, mais la respiration saccadée de Chris contre ma mâchoire me rendit muette.

Je ne répondais plus de rien. Je ne pouvais que me blottir contre lui et humer. J'étais bien là. Recroquevillée dans les bras de mon petit-ami, à l'autre bout du monde, c'était comme si l'univers n'appartenait qu'à nous. Et le sentir me toucher, me goûter m'aimer, voilà des choses qui n'avaient aucun prix. Tant leur valeur était inestimable.

J'aurais pu mourir ici, j'aurais tout de même été la femme la plus heureuse du monde.

[lamppost-t]

Incest fics are so weird to me like what do you mean you find getting freaky and doing things with your parent/sibling hot like what ☹️ also sidenote stepcest is still incest and weird and illegal!!

Like I try to block all of these accounts and move on but there’s so many like what is appealing about writing incest please guys just write smth else you don’t gotta make them related I’m sick of it, it’s not even important to the plot 😞

Also another thing I normally see tagged in these is noncon which is just disgusting for so many reasons that I shouldn’t have to explain bc what the fuck why are romanticizing rape and SA wtf is wrong with you 😭

I see a lot of these fics are normally in like older characters tags but like I’ve seen a lot in Anakin skywalker, Leon Kennedy and Chris Redfeild tags (and in a lot of the RE character tags) which sucks bc there are guenuinely good fics in there and these weird ass fics are ruining the RE fan base reputation

Like this shouldn’t be something people have to talk abt bc I’m not the only one who’s noticed this and thinks it’s weird just stop like

On another note stay safe out there gang, I know a lot of these kinds of fics can be triggering so always check warnings, block who you need to block and take care of yourself, you are loved and cared for 🧸💗

[prim42]

Wesker's Vulnerability

[froggileee]

This seemed a LOT more funny in my head 😭

[dollfacefantasy]

Room for One More

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: months ago, chris let his apprentice slip through his fingers when she transferred to the d.s.o. to work with leon kennedy. now the three of them have been sent on a mission together and are forced to share a hotel room.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, p in v, oral sex (f and m recieving), face-sitting, exhibitionism, age gap (early 20s, late 30s), jealousy, light angst

word count: 9.2k

a/n: had this in my drafts since february let's go. hope you guys like it <3

You and Leon were so fucking annoying.

Irritating, aggravating, infuriating pains in his ass. That’s all Chris could think while speeding down the road, his knuckles white from their tight grip on the steering wheel. The three of you were all supposed to be professionals for god’s sake. He shouldn’t have to deal with the two of you acting no better than a couple of horny teenagers during a fucking mission.

It was constant. The giggling and gasping, soft whines of “Leon stoppppp.” And he could hear Leon’s stupid fucking smirk when he chuckled and kept doing whatever was causing you to squirm around with him in the back seat. If he had to sit through much more of this, he was pretty sure he’d end up plowing the car into a nearby tree and putting himself out of his misery.

Chris glanced in the rearview mirror. Darkness engulfed the car right now, making it hard to clearly see what his ‘partners’ were up to. All he could really make out was that Leon’s head had been in the crook of your neck but was now tilted upwards to capture you in a kiss. The only thing keeping him sane was the miniscule light in the distance. The small reminder that he wouldn’t be stuck in the car with the sounds of saliva swapping forever. He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head, trying to will himself to just tune the aggravation out. But as the minutes pass by, each wet smack of lips grates on his nerves more and more.

“Can you two cut it out back there? I’m trying to focus,” he says. His harsh stare remains on the road ahead.

He hears your bodies briefly untangling as his words pierce the bubble you had created for yourselves. Leon is the first to respond.

“Our mistake, Redfield. Didn’t know it was such a challenge to go twenty-five miles an hour on an empty road,” he remarks. Again, Chris’s blood boils as he senses that self-satisfied expression taking over the other man’s features.

Your light slap to Leon’s bicep sounds through the car’s interior. “Sorry, Chris. We’ll keep it down,” you apologize.

In contrast to your boyfriend, your tone rings genuine. You sounded almost a little embarrassed by Chris calling out your antics. Your soft voice drifting to his ears actually softens him a tad. He knew the expression you wore now too. How your eyes were fixed on the DSO agent, giving him the glare you used when you wanted to seem firm. In reality, it came off as cute, like an angry kitten. And now Leon got to be the one to grin at you and shake his head, amused by your sweet face. He got to be in the position Chris let slip through his fingers months ago.

***

You’d been his first. Started out at the BSAA as his rookie. Your first day you’d been so bright-eyed, hopeful and ready to start out your career and face the world. He’d been reluctant to take on a trainee at first. It’s a lot of work with a 50/50 shot at reward, but the second he laid eyes on you, he knew the luck of the draw had worked in his favor.

You were the ideal apprentice. A great listener, eager to learn everything you could, and accepting of commands. Every day with you was a breeze. And besides the parts of you suited for your job, you were just generally pleasant to be around. He could joke with you, talk to you about damn near any subject. You were a great partner in the field too. At first, he’d been worried. A cute little thing like you taking on bioterrorists? He struggled to believe that would work out. As soon as he saw you in action though, you left no doubt that he’d been wrong. He became more taken with you upon seeing you act so capable. He realized that he felt a connection with you that he’d been lacking for so much of his life.

Unfortunately for him, he had these pesky things called ‘morals’ that prevented him from pursuing you. Every time he legitimately considered flirting or asking you out, the guilt gnawed at him, filling his mind with words of shame rather than anything that could charm you. No matter how he thought about it, he just couldn’t work out any way it would be right. Not only were you his subordinate, his rookie, you were nearly twenty years his junior too. You shouldn’t be wasting the prime of your life with some old man, so he cut off any hope of being more than a mentor to you.

About a year after he’d taken you on, the two of you were sent on that mission in Texas. It was simple, standard, routine. You and Chris were simply there to assist local police with the aftermath of a bioterror attack. Both of you were in the transport vehicle on the way to the site, and this was a rare occasion where he was pretty calm. He wasn’t tense or anxious, didn’t have any other motive than getting in and getting out. He was just enjoying the ride and watching your pretty face soak up the sunlight beaming through the window.

What he hadn’t been briefed on was the DSO’s involvement in the case. More specifically, a certain DSO agent’s presence. Apparently he’d been in the area on unrelated business and had been ordered to stop by in case your team needed assistance.

The two of you got out of the car and wandered through the remnants of the event. At first, Chris was happy to see him. It’d been a while, and he seemed to be in a better place than the last time they’d met. You seemed happy to see him too despite the fact that you’d never met before. Right then, Chris should’ve known it was over.

“Who’s that?” you asked with more interest than he felt was appropriate, leaning closer his muscular frame to keep your tone hushed.

He glanced down at you and raised his eyebrows, initially amused with the way you almost seemed in awe.

“Leon Kennedy. He’s with the DSO. Probably just here for some backup,” he informed you.

You nodded, and as you padded along behind Chris, your eyes remained locked on the agent in front of you. If he hadn’t been wrapped around your finger, it would have been obvious to him that you were developing a little crush. You became so bashful around Leon. Smiling up at him, batting your eyelashes like a cartoon character, following him around the scene like a puppy.

At the time, Chris thought that you were simply intrigued by the prestige of the DSO. Looking back, he couldn’t believe how clueless he’d been.

It was only six weeks later that you came to his office to notify him you were transferring agencies.

“What do you mean transferring? I’ve been training you to work here. I need you here,” Chris said.

Your eyes had cast down. Your body appeared to shrink in on itself. “I know. The BSAA is important and all, and I’ll always be grateful for what I learned here. It’s just that Leon said…”

And those last two words were all Chris heard.

“Leon said? What’s he know? He met you one time. He’s gonna try and tell you that you’re a better fit for the DSO?” he asked, probably coming off more interrogating than concerned, “You’re perfect for what we do here. The Agency hasn’t had someone with your propensity for research and field work in years.”

All his reasons paled in comparison to the hearts you had in your eyes for Leon. Chris ended the day by signing off on your transfer and watching you pack up your desk. You gave him a hug and tearful words of goodbye before walking out the translucent doors of the BSAA building.

The next time he saw you was another two months after that. He had to bring some files over to the DSO building. The only thing he was looking forward to about it was seeing how his rookie was adapting to her new position. He wasn’t prepared for the sharp pain in his chest when he saw your new position was on Leon’s lap.

Your eyes had gone wide. You shot up off the other man’s thighs to try and act as if you two were merely two agents and nothing more. Chris wasn’t fooled, but he kept his composure even in the face of Leon’s obvious amusement. He had no real place to get mad at you. It’s not like you were throwing your career away; you still held a respectable position at a federal government agency. You hadn’t betrayed him either. The relationship between you and him had actually just been professional. He had no claim on you that could keep Leon away. The only thing Chris had to be angry about was the fact that you were going to spend the prime of your life with some guy over a decade older than you. It just wasn’t gonna be him.

***

The collection of lights down the road were getting closer now. You and Leon had settled down enough to make the last fifteen minutes of this trip bearable. Chris glances around the small, misty town the road was leading into. It was pretty desolate and old-fashioned. Everything was tinted orange from the dated street lamps lining the road. Buildings were mostly bricks except for the upcoming motel which looked primarily wooden. It would’ve been eerie if he wasn’t so exhausted.

He pulled into the parking lot of the place and stopped the car. Turning around in his seat to talk to you and Leon, he tries not to roll his eyes at how the younger man has you tucked to his side while you show him something on your phone.

Chris clears his throat. Leon’s eyes meet his, still smug from the earlier exchange. He can’t be mad though because you look up at him in earnest, ready to do what needs to be done.

“The target isn’t going to be passing through until tomorrow. How would the two of you feel about staying here for the night?” he asks.

Fortunately, you and Leon seem to want to rest for a while just as much as he does so there’s no pushback.

Chris steps out of the car into the brisk air. He heads across the way into the small lobby of the motel to grab a room. You and your boyfriend handle getting the small bags you were allowed to take on missions out of the car.

“Cold out here, baby,” Leon mumbles as he pulls you flush against his chest and plants some kisses down your neck.

“Mhm. And you’re making me shiver more,” you say as you still try to collect the bags.

He chuckles at your little joke and nips at the warm flesh of your throat. “Once we get in the room, I think I’ll be able to heat you up,” he says.

You giggle and squirm a bit in his hold as Chris comes back to the car. He’s stone faced, but for once on this trip, it isn’t due to you and Leon.

“They only have one room available,” he says flatly and holds up the small golden key.

Your face drops and Leon lets go of you.

“What do you mean they only have one room?” he asks, “Look at this place. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s even accidentally wandered through here in this century. How could they only have one room?”

“They said the others are closed for renovation,” Chris relays.

“Renovation for what? For the ghosts of people who stayed here the last time this place was actually full?” Leon continues.

“I don’t know, man. You wanna go in there and argue with the lady at the desk? She’s half deaf and in a great mood, I’m sure she’ll be open to hearing your concerns,” the older man says sarcastically, beginning to grow frustrated.

Their bickering continues as you glance around at your surroundings. It was cold, it was dark, and it really was starting to creep you out how empty this place was.

You carefully take Leon’s hand and give it a little tug.

“I’m really tired. Can we just deal with it for the night?” you ask him hopefully.

He looks over at you, the petty complaints seeping from his body when he hears your soft voice requesting something so simple.

He sighs and nods. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he says and kisses your forehead.

Chris is grateful for your intervention and scoops up the bags so you aren’t bothered with them. The three of you walk in line to your room.

The door creaks as your ex-mentor pushes it open. It’s pitch black inside until Leon reaches over and taps the light switch. Your eyes scan the small room. It wasn’t a horrible set up. The furniture was a little vintage to put it nicely, but it didn’t feel haunted. Two double beds sat against one wall while a ratty leather chair occupied the opposite corner. Besides that there was a dresser, an old tv that was shaped like a cube, and a small counter with a microwave and mini-fridge. Leon looks around with the same disinterest displayed on your face.

“Hey, at least there isn’t only one bed,” he jokes and slaps Chris’s shoulder.

The older man rolls his eyes and tosses his duffel onto the mattress closest to the door. You and your boyfriend follow suit. You tuck your bag neatly against the side of the dresser while he drops it on the floor next to the farther bed.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Chris tells the both of you as he fishes some fresh clothes and toiletries out of his bag.

He gets two unconcerned nods in response, and that’s enough for him to head to the bathroom. As he’s shutting the door, he can already hear your giggling starting up again along with the creak of the mattress, presumably from Leon pulling you down onto it.

Turning on the water, he sighs deeply. The faucet was as old as everything else in the room. It whooshed and groaned before starting up and letting out some water. The stream was hot and even, so he guessed he couldn't complain too much. He sheds his clothes and steps in the shower that was too small for him. The confined area didn’t act as much as a reprieve for him. His head is about three or four inches too tall for where the showerhead was angled. The slick curtain clings to the part of his bicep that stuck out against it.

It felt like a physical manifestation of how the next twelve hours would feel.

Being in the room next to you and Leon would’ve been bad enough. He’d have to hear you two going at it for hours like there was no tomorrow, but at least he’d be alone. He wouldn’t have to repress his grimaces or hide his wistful exhales. No one would have to know how shameful he looked when he felt himself getting hard over the way you whined and mewled for the other agent.

Now you two wouldn’t be going at it, but he’d have to be in the room clouded by both of your desires to do it. He’d have to watch the lingering looks and hear the little hitches in your breaths. He’d see whatever cute little pajamas wore and the way you curled up to Leon beneath the covers. He’d witness how peaceful your face looked while you slept in another man’s arms.

He’d honestly just prefer to be forced to listen to the sounds of your headboard banging against the wall all night.

But he pushes those thoughts away to finish up washing himself. His large hands guide the shampoo out of his hair and glide the washcloth over his muscular form. The steam starting to rise helps to calm him a little.

He isn’t in there for much longer before he shuts the water off and steps out of the shower to dry off. He wraps a towel around his waist, letting the cloth hang on hips just below his happy trail and v-line. His reflection gazes back at him through the fog on the mirror as he rubs a towel over his head and dries his hair.

In an effort to be considerate, he dresses in the bathroom. Gray sweats cover his lower half while a loose t-shirt adorns his chest. He makes sure everything in the bathroom is back in place before heading back out there, hopefully to just get some sleep and not be bothered by his temporary roommates.

That isn’t meant to be though. As soon as he steps back into the main portion of the room, he’s greeted by the sight of Leon’s hand down your shorts and your lips locked together in a flurry of kisses. He’s frozen in place for a moment, watching how Leon’s knuckles move underneath the fabric between your legs. Though a moment later, he remembers how he should be reacting.

“Come the fuck on,” he says and brings his hand to his face in frustration.

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps up. Leon lazily glances in his direction. Chris looks back at the pair of you, thinking you’d had enough time to readjust. What really enrages him now is that Leon’s hand was still where it was. You have to grab his wrist and pull it away.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” you apologize without another thought, “We got distracted and didn’t hear the water shut off. I’m so-”

He doesn’t even look at you though. He’s locked in a stare with the other man in the room.

“Grow the fuck up, Leon,” he says, his tone deadly serious, “I’ve had enough of this shit. You’re acting like a fucking high schooler. Like a dog with a bone.”

You go silent and look down with guilt. He would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t so fed up. To make matters worse, Leon merely rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, calm down,” he says, “You’re acting like you just walked in on a porno or something. You’ve never seen two people making out?”

“Leon, shut up,” you say, keeping your voice hushed as if Chris couldn’t hear you from a small distance of ten feet. Your boyfriend doesn’t even acknowledge you though.

“That’s not what it’s about, and you know that. I don’t give a shit if the two of you want to make out till your lips are blue. Do it on your own time. I don’t wanna have to deal with the two of you slobbering all over each other while I’m trying to do my job,” he says with a glare.

“That’s not what this is about either, and you know it,” the younger man retorts.

“Leon, just give it up!” you plead. He shoots you a look though that makes you react like a scolded puppy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris asks incredulously as he crosses his arms.

Your boyfriend almost laughs in his face. He sits up, looking at him with a more pointed gaze. “You don’t care about what I’m doing. You’re pissed off because I’m doing it with her,” he taunts.

Somehow the look on Chris’s face darkens further.

“Alright, man. I’m sure that’s what it is. It’s not you just being an insecure dickhead like always,” he says, trying to sound dismissive as he walks to his own bed, “You're more immature than I thought.”

“Don’t try to act like it’s bullshit because I know it’s the truth. All the years I’ve known you, all the missions we’ve partnered on; this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me with a girl but you’ve never pitched a fit about it before,” Leon says.

Chris shakes his head, not dignifying the accusations with a response, but he won’t give it up.

“Also, you think I’m fucking stupid? You think I don’t see the way you’re looking at her? Undressing her with your eyes, laser focused every time she bends over? I think if she gave you the go ahead, you wouldn’t even hesitate to steal her away from me,” he says.

You notice as they argue that in contrast to the genuine aggravation on Chris’s face, Leon’s words come from somewhere else. Almost as if he’s enjoying calling him a liar, poking and prodding at the other man to provoke a reaction.

Chris looks directly at him now as if he’s ready to lunge in a moment’s notice.

“Shut your mouth. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Tell me then. Tell me how it is.”

That makes the older man pause. Of course Leon was right, but under no circumstances would he make that apparent.

“She had a bright future ahead of her, and look what you’ve done. She’s the best either one of the agencies has had in years, and you keep her in the palm of your hand like she’s a barbie doll!” he exclaims.

He sees the flicker of hurt on your face and knows he fucked up, but he could apologize later. He continues speaking to try and temporarily rectify his slip up.

“She’s too good for you, Leon,” he says simply, sighing and sitting down on his bed.

You see genuine emotion flash in your boyfriend's eyes. Chris struck a chord, picking at a very real insecurity Leon held. But he wanted to win this confrontation too, so he wouldn’t let that be known. Instead, he beckons you to him with a languid wave of his hand.

“C’mere, baby.”

Chris rolls his eyes, thinking Leon was gonna swoop in to comfort you for the way your feelings had been hurt. You waddle across the mattress on your knees and plop down between his legs, your back against his chest. His hands sweep over your stomach, soothingly caressing your skin.

“She might be too good for me, but you’re pissed off because she’s too good for you too,” he says.

“Leon, stop,” you whisper. Tomorrow was going to be awkward enough as is. He didn’t need to make it any worse.

Chris glances up at the two of you but looks down again quickly, not wanting to see the way the other man’s hands moved on your body.

“You think I’m the bad guy. That I’m corrupting your innocent little rookie,” Leon mocks, “But tell me you wouldn’t take my place if you could.”

“I wouldn’t,” he mumbles instantaneously.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that if she was actually interested in you, that you wouldn’t have taken her in your arms as fast as you could. When she was prancing around the BSAA, looking up at you with stars in her eyes, tell me you didn’t want her,” your boyfriend challenges.

Chris looks up at the both of you. His expression is hard to read. It’s some mixture of hurt and relief that you’re unfamiliar with.

“I didn’t,” he maintains.

Leon’s hand continues trailing on your tummy up and down. His fingers coast in between your breasts, causing you to shiver, but everyone’s so wrapped up in the conflict that you choose not to say anything.

“That’s a shame because I’m pretty sure your little rookie had a crush on you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t joke around like that Leon,” Chris scoffs at the same time as your eyes widen and you start to tell your boyfriend to be quiet.

“Shh shh shh,” he hushes you and places a small kiss on your temple, “You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.”

You look down and the man across from you just looks confused. Leon smirks at the both of you before resuming.

“C’mon man. Don’t tell me you couldn’t see it. She’s a terrible liar, and I think she had it pretty bad for you. I just came along and pulled her attention elsewhere,” he says, teasing you while redirecting his words to Chris.

Your face was heating up fast as Leon aired out a confession you’d made to him on a night after too many drinks. Chris slowly returned his gaze back to the two of you. Instead of bothering with Leon, he looked into your eyes this time.

“Is that true?” he asks.

Every limb on your body feels frozen up, but you manage to force your head into nodding. You hear Leon chuckle from behind you, which only intensifies how awkward you feel.

“I liked you at first when I first started working at the BSAA. For the first few months,” you begin to explain. It’s not like anything you said would help the situation at all, but it still felt like you were supposed to offer something.

He continues staring at you, and you honestly can’t tell what’s running through his mind. All you can think is that he looks like he’s in pain. Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s hands caress over your skin in a pattern they’d developed.

“You were just so nice and understanding with me-” you start. But you’re cut off by your sharp gasp when Leon’s hand slides under the waistband of your bottoms and into your panties.

“Leon!” you whimper as fast as his fingers find your clit. You grab his wrist and try to pull it away like you’d done earlier, but when he didn’t want to be interrupted, he wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like you tried too hard anyways. You were still a little pent up from earlier, craving the pleasure that had been cut short.

“No, go on, sweetheart. Keep telling Chris how much you liked him. I know he wants to hear it,” he says lowly while his fingers toy with you.

“Leon,” Chris says firmly, trying to stand up for you. But fuck, if he didn’t want to keep watching your breath hitch and your hips squirm. Or your face getting pouty whenever his fingers stroked a certain way.

“Chris,” he says back, “Don’t act like you don’t wanna see. This might be your only chance.”

He smirks and kisses your temple again, rotating the pad of his middle finger over your clit. The motions draw little whines from you, and your eyes flutter. You keep them on Chris, looking into his own as you sink back into Leon’s chest.

“Go ahead, honey. Continue your story,” Leon prompts.

“You were so sweet- mm- and you taught me a lot and- ah- I don’t know it was just a little crush,” you say timidly.

Chris watches you. He doesn’t move at all for fear of bringing attention to how fast his cock has hardened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he breathes.

“Cause you were my boss,” you say, “I- Leon fuck- I didn’t wanna put you in a bad position.”

His chest feels like it’s turned to stone as he takes in these revelations. It’s hard not to let the regret take over. The realization that he’d been much closer to everything he’d wanted threatened to consume him if he dwelled on it. That on top of the fact that he was hearing all this while you whimpered another man’s name between your words had his mind scrambled.

“It wouldn’t have put me in a bad position, sweetheart,” he says, attempting to sound normal about the situation.

Your lips curve further down, as if you feel guilty for the mess of emotions building inside him. Behind you, Leon’s mouth makes the opposite expression.

“What happened to not wanting her, Redfield?” he teases.

“Shut up,” Chris says. Even if he wasn’t the one pleasuring you, this was a moment for you and him.

His eyes are locked on you, trying to drink in everything about the vision of beauty in front of him. Leon’s warning that this could be the only time he gets to see it echoes in his mind. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive if this is the only time. He doesn’t think he could ever get enough of this. The way your lashes flutter and your eyes look dreamy. How your soft thighs tremble while spread open. The little movements of your hips rocking your ass back and forth against the man behind you.

Why couldn’t that man be him?

It was the most blissful form of torture he’d experienced. He tried to tell himself that even if he just got to watch you cum, it’d be worth it. It’d be better to share this unforgettable sliver of time with you than to have nothing special at all.

He tries to refocus himself back on enjoying the view of your shorts sliding off your legs rather than mourn the relationship he’d lost out on. It was just nearly impossible to avoid envisioning himself and the other man swapped. He had imagined you in his lap like that for months before you even knew the name Leon Kennedy.

Chris’s mind is actually drawn back to the action in front of him once Leon’s got your shorts off, and your panties are fully exposed. The crotch is soaked through. He can see the way the fabric sticks to your center, only peeling away to make space for the nimble fingers working beneath it.

“Leon…” you mewl and tilt your head back against his shoulder.

“I know, princess,” he murmurs, “You’re doing such a good job showing off for Chris. I’m proud of you. You’re really making it worth his while.”

“Thank you,” you whimper.

Leon grins at your display of submission and rewards you with a gentle pinch to your clit. You yelp, and Chris’s cock jerks inside his pants. His bulge is completely visible to everyone in the room by now, no way of sitting could hide that. Despite his arousal, he still had questions.

“Am I the reason you left?” he decides to ask you.

He watches you snap out of the throes of lust and look at him. You hesitate before answering.

“No,” you say softly, “I left to be with Leon.”

It feels like a dagger straight to his heart. He watches any chance of salvaging you as his own die before his very eyes, those words acting as the nails in the coffin. It shows on his face too because he can see the guilt replacing the desire in your eyes. Even Leon’s face flashes with some sympathy. He tilts his head towards you again and nips at the shell of your ear.

“I think you might have hurt Chris’s feelings, baby,” he chides lovingly. His hand then leaves your panties and goes with his other one to your waist. Boosting you to your feet, he looks up at you and taps your ass. “Maybe you should help him feel better. Show him some of what I taught you.”

There’s only a brief pause on your part. You stand between the two beds, between the two men, looking back and forth. You weren’t against the idea at all, it just didn’t seem real. You never imagined this happening in your wildest dreams.

You drop to your knees and approach Chris from the ground, positioning yourself between his legs and looking up at him.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his tone quiet and genuine.

You reach up, sliding your hand up his thigh to palm at his bulge.

“I know,” you respond.

In the simplest of terms, you were still very much attracted to Chris. Your relationship with Leon had extinguished the torch you carried for him down to a small flame, but on a physical and instinctual level, you still wanted him bad. Especially having not cum yet after being teased twice. Your fingers unzip his pants and begin pulling them down, eager to get his cock out.

In a way, you were pretty sure you loved him. Not in the way you love Leon. You knew that. You didn’t dream of love and marriage and the baby carriage with Chris. But for so long, he’d been your safe space. Amongst the violence and horrors in the world of Bioterrorism, your mentor had always been there for you to hold your hand.

You yank his pants down to his ankles, and his dick flops out against his thigh. Your eyes widen slightly. It made sense for it to be big just like everything else on him was, but the sight had you drooling. It was thick and long, from one look you could only imagine how it would stretch you out.

Your fingers wrap around the length, feeling its warmth. The veins that sprawl across it pulse with desire for you. He moans quietly with only one stroke. Your hand pumps up and down tentatively as you spit down onto it for some lubrication.

No one in the room is in the mood to be teased tonight, so you lean in and flick your tongue against the tip. Another groan bubbles from Chris’s lips and you can feel Leon’s lecherous gaze on you the entire time. You lap at the head some more and keep working your fist up and down.

You’re either very talented or Chris is very needy for you, because it only takes a handful of gentle licks before precum beads at the top. His eyes are blown out and locked on you as you suckle the swollen tip between your lips and bob your head. Your mouth is the perfect combination of warm and wet and soft. You cup his balls and give them a gentle massage while working your magic.

He reaches down and pets your head as you work. His head snaps up when he hears the other man speak to him.

“How’s it feel? As good as you imagined?” he asks.

“Better,” Chris moans.

His breaths enter and exit his lungs in deep puffs. This truly was better than he could’ve imagined. Everything about you was beyond the capabilities of human imagination. Your gags were so soft and tender. They were precious despite their inherent lewd nature. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, maintaining eye contact most of the time. That was something he’d taught you. Your first days of work you were always looking down at your shoes or right through him at the wall. He’d been the one to tell you eye contact was important. It was the most baseline form of connection.

You take your mouth off Chris’s shaft with a small pop. A string of saliva dangles between you and his cock, but you quickly destroy it when your lips smoosh against the flushed skin. You kiss the tip over and over, savoring the taste of precum it brings.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not caring if he heard or not.

But he does, and his gaze softens. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, rookie,” he says back.

Leon decides not to interrupt the exchange or tease Chris about the old nickname for you. He had no genuine ill will toward the other man. That plus his own cock was rising to attention, and he was more interested in palming it through his jeans.

“You're such a good girl. You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Chris continues to coo at you as you take his length back into your mouth.

His eyes crinkle as they shut. He doesn’t want to cum yet just in case there was the chance for anything more. You’re too taken with servicing him to notice that you should maybe slow down. Lucky for the both of you, Leon intervenes.

“Ah ah, baby. Don’t take Chris out of the fun too quick,” he tuts, reaching forward to guide your head back.

You pull off obediently and lean back onto your knees. Chris sighs at the reprieve but nearly blows his load when his eyes refocus on you gazing up at him with spit and precum on your lips.

“I think Chris needs a break, angel. You know how good that mouth of yours is,” he says and pets your head before looking up to the older man, “You want a little taste of her while you cool off?”

It’s like time slows to a halt in the world of Chris Redfield. The heavens part and the words he just heard are the gateway to paradise. He stares at Leon, almost in the same disbelief you had been in minutes ago.

“You’re cool with that?” he says, trying to seem casual.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he says and shrugs, “Plus, I think your rookie deserves a treat for her performance.”

“Of course she does. She’s probably feeling pretty needy by now too,” Chris says in return, beginning to feel more comfortable with the situation at hand.

“I’ll even let you pick, man. You want her spread out on the bed or riding your face?” he asks.

You look between the both of them as they speak before stopping on Chris as he makes the decision.

“Riding my face. Want her to smother me,” the older man says as he looks down at you with his familiar smile.

Leon glances down at you too. “You heard him, baby,” he says.

You return to your feet and approach the bed closer to the window. Chris discards his pants completely and removes his shirt before lying back. He pats his chest, signaling for you to climb up. As you move closer, so does your boyfriend. He rounds the bed and sits on the other side of the mattress to watch the pair of you.

You crawl over Chris’s muscular body, looking down at him for a moment when your faces are level. You then scoot up more so you’re basically sitting on his chest. You weren’t shy about sitting on someone’s face necessarily. You’d done it for Leon about a dozen times before, but Chris was new and you didn’t know how he liked to do it. From the way he guided your hips higher up though, you could already tell he was a little more gentle than your boyfriend.

He pulls you up until your pussy is hovering over his face. Then he takes a few moments to just admire it. It was cute just like every other part of you. One of his fingers drags over your flesh and pulls on the puffy folds, showing off your pretty little clit and slick entrance.

“Don’t hold back for me, rookie. I want to taste all of you,” he says as he looks up at you.

You return his look and nod before he pulls you lower by your hips onto his face. A squeak flies from your lips when his tongue makes contact with your cunt. Leon chuckles as he watches the two of you with lustful eyes. He’s working on undressing himself now.

Chris’s tongue takes a long swipe from the bottom to the top of your pussy, taking in as much of you as he can. Right now you’re all he can smell. Every breath brings him more of you. Your taste overwhelms him too. It’s the way he wants to live. You whine as his lips engulf your clit to suck on.

“Already making such pretty noises,” Leon teases, “Is Chris doing it how you like, sweet girl?”

You nod, your eyes connecting with those of your boyfriend’s for a moment. He kneels on the bed to be closer to you. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek.

“Good. You deserve it, baby. Just look at you. So precious. No wonder he’s crazy about you too,” Leon murmurs as he leans in and kisses you deeply.

His lips move with yours as you moan into his mouth. You begin rocking your hips back and forth on Chris’s face to get more of the stimulation he’s providing you with. His tongue flattens over your cunt and presses against it in stripes, making broad strokes that spark euphoria in your belly each time. His hands lock onto your hips to keep you still enough that you’re not interrupting his devouring of you.

The constant pleasure to your core makes you lightheaded. You would be swaying if not for the two men’s combined efforts to keep you up right. Your kisses become sloppier, and to alleviate it, Leon ducks down to kiss your neck instead. He peppers your skin with hickeys, his possessive nature shining through a bit.

“My pretty girl, doing so good for us right now. Taking it like a pro,” he whispers teasingly as his hands cup your breasts and give them a tender squeeze.

His lips travel down to where his hands are. He plants a few kisses on the swell of your chest. The sight of your nipples perking up for him would never get old.

“Sweet baby, everything about you is perfect. Don’t know how Chris resisted and never got a taste,” he says as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your head falls back and you shudder. Two mouths on you, both licking and sucking in harmony. It made you moan loud enough that you would’ve certainly got a noise complaint if any of the other rooms were occupied.

“Is that for me or Chris, babydoll?” Leon asks and smirks up at you.

“Both,” you whimper, “Both of you are making me feel so good.”

“Not picking favorites, hm?” he goads you further.

“Can’t think enough to pick one right now,” you say simply before another whine leaves you. You didn’t want any more drama. At least not before you came.

“Oh, is your head getting all foggy, baby?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you whimper and nod.

On your lower half, Chris keeps his mouth firmly attached to your pussy. He’s pretty sure you already have him addicted, and you haven’t even cum yet. He’s licking with all the dedication in the world as if this task was his life’s purpose, the action he was put on this very earth to complete.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he grunts into you as he continues open mouth kissing your cunt, “Prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Leon smiles at the compliment, almost as if it was partially intended for him by virtue of being your boyfriend.

“She’s loving you, Chris. You’ve got her brain melting out her ears,” Leon purrs while rubbing your back soothingly, steadying you from the tremors that rack your body, “Pretty baby’s probably gonna cum all over your face soon.

When he hears that, the man below you pulls your hips down even harder and locks you onto his mouth. He works even harder to please you, relishing in the way your noises grow louder and more strained.

You give Leon puppy eyes as your hand darts out for his. Your fingers squeeze his palm so tight, he’s sure there will be little red crescents on the skin when you let go.

“What is it, sweetheart? You need to hold my hand?” he croons. He gently squeezes your hand back and moves his face to your neck to press a few more kisses there. “I’ve got you, baby. You cum whenever you want, I’m not gonna let go. Show Chris how pretty you are when you cum.”

Your teeth dig into your lip and your hips quiver violently.

“Fuck Leon- I just- I- Chris,” you stutter out. Your brain rushes to latch onto something, but it can’t seem to get a lock on anything.

“Don’t gotta say anything, angel. Just cum all over my face,” Chris commands from between your thighs.

“You heard him, baby. No thinking. Just let yourself feel good. That’s what we both wanna see,” he whispers and brings your hand to his lips.

Your lips part to say something, but you decide to just listen. You grind your hips down against Chris’s mouth, gasping as the euphoria paramounts within you. Your hips roll even faster as you feel release within your grasp. You’re closing in on it when you shriek and nearly double over with the shattering feeling of your peak.

“There we go, that’s it,” Leon chuckles softly, “Show him what I get to see every night. My favorite sight in the whole world.”

Your body moves as if it’s possessed when you cum. Your back arches into a curve with supernatural speed. Your eyes are screwed shut while your mouth is wide open. The younger man next to you grins while the older man below you continues to make out with your pussy, lapping up every drop of you that he could.

When you start to come down, he lets up, knowing Leon had more in store from you. He lets your hips go, and you basically topple over onto the mattress. You inhale and exhale deeply as the cool motel sheets rest against your cheek.

Chris’s eyes are hooded from lust, the effects of the most erotic experience in his life lingering. His cock is fully hard, standing up and aching for more of your touch. Yet in a way he’s satisfied, having just made you cum, tasted the sweetest part of you, and heard your most vulnerable sounds.

Leon’s undressed on the bed, the only one of the three of you whose mind didn’t feel hazy with clouds of desire. He tugs on his stiff cock a few times as he decides what to do. His eyes flit between your crumpled up form and the other man lying on his back.

“Chris, you wanna hold her for a little bit? Have her sit in your lap?” he asks.

The older man almost felt pathetic at how eager he was to play along and say yes. Almost. Because he still does that. He nods and sits up, leaning back against the headboard.

The next move is getting you up. Your boyfriend guides you to where Chris is, and he then helps you into his lap. Your mind was coming back to normal, and you were looking up at Leon with adoration while you melted against Chris’s broad chest. You nuzzle it gently, feeling its warmth and plush quality. His thick arms encase you, making sure you feel secure.

Leon pulls you on your hips to get you a bit lower where he has easier access.

“I’m not gonna let you fuck her this time. I wanna show you how it’s done first,” Leon teases as he slots himself between your legs.

In any other instance, this would’ve pissed Chris off. Everything about it would’ve left him disappointed and annoyed. But now any negative emotion is overshadowed by two words.

This time.

Because this time implies there will be a next time. And maybe even a time after next time. Another time for him to feel his cock inside you. Another time for him to make you cum on his fingers or watch you ride him. Some of his hopes spring back to life.

Internally, his heart is soaring. He kisses your hairline carefully as Leon slides his tip between your folds that are sticky with arousal. He teases himself with the feeling only a few times before nudging the tip inside.

Your head falls back against Chris’s chest and you moan. He kisses your temple and caresses your sides as if you need to be soothed. As if this isn’t the dick you’ve been taking nightly for the last few months.

Chris’s own length is rock solid against your back. Every small change in your facial expression or rise in pitch of your voice sends blood rushing to it, the threat of cumming untouched ever present.

Leon steadily pushes in until he’s buried all the way inside and you’re nice and filled to the hilt.

“So fucking tight. You gotta feel it, Chris. You thought she tasted good? Just wait till you feel her,” he grunts.

“I bet. I could tell from how cute her pussy was. She was clenching around nothing the whole time. I’m sure she loves to squeeze down anytime she’s got a cock in her,” Chris whispers

More hope was rising in him that this wouldn’t be a one night only thing, and it took all his strength not to smile like an idiot. His knuckles move down your cheek lovingly as he speaks to you and holds you while Leon thrusts. Your body rocks gently with the momentum, pushing you against Chris’s cock each time.

“She does love to get all tight. Just wants to suck me in so I can never leave,” Leon says and holds your thighs to start thrusting harder.

“Such a needy girl. I should’ve known, rookie,” Chris murmurs to you.

“It just feels so good,” you whine, “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh I know it’s not, precious,” Leon mocks, “Your head is always full of nothing but air when I’m around. It probably just gets worse with Chris here.”

You whine in protest and squirm a little, unknowingly grinding your ass on Chris’s cock and coaxing a moan from him. Leon’s dick hits deeper too, bringing you heightened pleasure.

“You’re not an airhead, baby. You’re a sweet girl. My rookie. You just wanna feel good, hm?” Chris says teasingly.

You nod along, and from the look on his face, Leon is amused, pleased with the dynamic Chris opened up.

“No one said she isn’t sweet. Just that she goes a little dumb as soon as she’s got my dick in her,” he teases.

He sighs and his eyes roll back for a moment as you clamp around you. He keeps rocking in and out, enjoying the wet sounds coming from each one of his movements. He also can’t get enough of your mewls or the way you're clutching one of Chris’s forearms right now.

“Maybe he’s right about that. You just work so hard all the time. You need something that can calm you down,” Chris says and squeezes his arms around you, “You’re still so precious.”

You look up at Chris with lovey dovey eyes, remembering why you’d been so enamored with him in the first place. He talked to you like you were the sweetest thing to walk this earth and made you believe it. He made you feel cared for in a way that was indescribable. Pure feeling.

“Yeah you are,” Leon grunts, “And you can go as dumb as you want right now, baby. We’re both here taking care of you. I’m sure Chris loves holding you while all you can do is whine for more.”

“That’s right. I love seeing you like this, knowing you’re taken care of,” he whispers, “And you know I’ve always got you. I’ll never let my rookie go.”

All the words are overwhelming. You pant and writhe more in Chris’s grasp.

“You getting close again, babydoll?” Leon asks, knowing your tells.

You whimper and nod quickly.

“Good. I am too,” he grunts.

He starts working himself into you harder. The momentum from each snap of his hips keeps you rubbing against Chris’s shaft and working him closer to the edge as well. All three of you are panting, muscles tensing up in some way as the end approaches. 

You stare into Leon’s eyes for a moment before rotating your head and looking up at Chris. Both sets of eyes are fixated on you. The overflow of attention is the final strike your body needs to start convulsing with release. The older man’s arms tighten around you, keeping you close as your skin heats up and your noises grow whinier. Your boyfriend keeps a steel grip on your hips, his fingers stroking back and forth.

“That’s my girl,” Leon grunts, “Let it out, baby.”

He moans and lets his head fall back as he feels himself hurtling towards the finish line.

“My rookie. Just perfect, honey,” Chris whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

The words nearly triple your pleasure and you continue to ride out the high as Leon finally cums and shoots it inside you. He nearly growls as he pounds into you, completely emptying himself. All the rutting is enough for Chris to cum too. He spurts his hot seed against the small of your back, holding onto you with all he has as his hips jerk upwards and he imagines it’s him buried inside you.

Leon’s the first to get his bearings back. He pulls out slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of emptiness. He then rolls to the side of you and Chris, watching the final moments with the other man. You lie on his chest with your eyes drooping, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. His hand lazily runs down your side. He savors your warmth on his chest. Almost subconsciously, it feels like you really are his in this moment.

That is until you regain your composure and sit up. You hop up for a moment to clean off the mess on your back. He knew you’d have to, but the sight still makes Chris’s heart ache. 

As you return to the bed, you give your boyfriend a dizzy smile and crawl over to curl up at his side. He rubs your back and pecks your forehead. For the two of you, it’s like a regular night. Chris isn’t sure where he fits in this anymore. Should he just move to the bed you two had claimed earlier? Should he make the two of you get up?

He’s running through solutions in his mind when your hand comes out and grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him with some sort of longing in your eyes.

“Stay with us,” you say.

It was softer than he ever heard from you, different from when you introduced yourself on your first day of work or made a mistake on a mission. It was a new kind of shyness that just made him want more from you. He stares at you and contemplates the idea. Leon raises his eyebrows and gives him a look, giving him the silent ok he needed to slowly lower himself to the mattress. 

He shuts off the light first, leaving the motel room in darkness except for the glow of the yellow street lamps shining through the window. His head hits the pillow, and he drapes an arm over you. You’re still leaning into Leon for the most part which he makes no move to interfere with.

The three of you don’t say anything for the rest of the night. Silence permeates the atmosphere of your shared space. The events of the last hour run through each of your minds in different ways. The mission had taken a back seat for now. It could return to prominence tomorrow once the mental dust had settled.

Leon’s eyes flutter shut first, and his deep, even breaths of sleep follow. You’re barely awake with your cheek squished against his pectoral muscle. Chris watches you, the outline of your face illuminated from the faint light outside. He wonders if this really will be the only time with you. If his taste of heaven will remain that, a sample of what he could have had. He chooses to not believe that and drive himself crazy.

He shuts his eyes too and brings his face to nestle against the crook of your neck. His breath hits your neck when he sighs. In the abyss that is the motel room, he feels your hands come up to rest on his arm.

[tojisdove]

SOOO– ARE WE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE RESIDENT EVIL 9 CONFIRMATIONS OR????

[eggnogtoast]

hire this man to find your missing brother

[ahhrenata]

Re: your pinned post, if I could request anything Chreon that would be amazing, I love your style so so so much 🥺💞

Thank you!! 🥰🥹 I literally love them in all possible scenarios/au’s. I went for a little post death island smooch. (I wish they had a liiittle more one on one time together in it 🥲)

[la-guarido-del-perrozorro]

oh well it's resident evil fan account now i think........

[messenger-of-babel]

Voicemails

Summary: When complications arise on his mission, all he has is one phone call back to you. (Death Island! Leon x reader)

Word Count: 2.1K

Notes: It really does end here, huh? 🥹 This is the last post for this month. We have officially finished Angstober 2024. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged, followed, and sent me things to my inbox. It's going to be weird not writing for you all every day, but you'll still see me around. I'm going to take a small break and write in the background, get through requests and stuff. I'm moving house and graduating at the same time so I might not post a whole lot till I'm settled again, but then you can count on me for more than angst!

General warnings for language use, spoilers for Death Island if you haven't seen it (you should it's quite funny), and a mildly OOC Leon but we can all be saps sometimes. Warping the events of the movie to my own benefit.

Enjoy our last post of this month, sweethearts~

RiRi xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanna make a call?" Chris grunts, looking down at him. Leon looks up at him, vision blurry and pain radiating through his body. His neck stings from where the microdrone bit him, and he can no longer feel anything from his thighs down, just a numb tingle. He has to consciously remind himself to breathe, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

"You got- you got a way?" he rasps back, eyes scrunching in confusion. Chris nods, the bigger man bucking slightly against the cell wall he's leaning against.

"Left- left pocket." he grits out. "Claire got the signal through before we got bit. It's only strong enough for one call, then Dylan's framework will probably patch it."

Leon sighs, head hitting the rusted bars of Alcatraz. This had been another run of the mill mission, find the missing scientist selling government secrets, pack him up and ship him back to the government to be trialled at court. In the true fashion of his 'run of the mill missions', nothing went according to that plan and veered off into a clusterfuck as usual. The BSAA had been involved chasing their own leads, and he had run into Jill in the sewers running from zombies. the plague that seemed to follow him like a shadow ever since he left Raccoon as a young and very traumatised cop.

He was supposed to get in and out, wrap it up so he could come home to you like he promised. As he sat there writhing, he wondered what the look on your face would be if he wasn't able to make it to the cruise that you had both planned. You had lobbied both him and the DSO for a holiday, and after many angry letters and snatching the phone out of his hand to yell at his supervisor, you had succeeded in getting him two months off. Without hesitation you had booked the both of you on a cruise, shushing him every time he had tried to protest.

If he was being honest, just sleeping at home would have been enough. He could barely remember the last time that he had sat down or stopped for a moment. The days that he was at the office or on a mission blurred together so often that he was beginning to forget what colour you had both decided to paint the kitchen, making him falter when coworkers made small talk with him in the staff room. Which side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, what bills needed to be paid first, whether the spare bedroom was being turned into an office or a workshop or not. It was when his forgetfulness led him to forget what month it was and being blindsided to your own anniversary that he finally snapped out of it.

You had been sitting on the porch steps dressed in your finery, watery eyes looking up at him as he pulled into the driveway, your knees pulled to your chest. He had jumped from the car like you were shot, the realisation of what he had done thrumming hard in his chest. "I'm so sorry" he had murmured into your hair, holding you tight. "I am so so sorry."

You had just sniffled in response and eventually gave him a weak hug back, and he clung to that like a lifeline. He swore that he would never fuck up like that again, and he intended to keep that promise.

So, he had relented to the cruise vacation, telling himself that he would be able to relax and unwind on the seas and out of service of work. They could call another agent for once, he wanted to focus on nothing but the smile you wore as you got to carry out the couple things he felt he had denied you your entire relationship. Getting to use the swim up bar, taking photos together, dressing in matching clothes for the cheesy cruise quiz nights. If that was what you wanted, that is what he was going to give you. Besides, it gave him a chance to relish in you again.

You, who had cancelled the wedding of your dreams to get married at the courthouse with him when he got called away suddenly and you weren't sure if you would see him again. You had been married within hours with the rings he had picked and you in the finest you could find on such short notice. He had thought you looked stunning, even if the lighting was the harsh LED of the courthouse and not candles like you had wanted.

You, who had put up with months of him being gone, not knowing if he was dead or alive. Who had to stay up late tracking the news for crumbs of his whereabouts, only able to make guesses to where he might have been assigned. Every death, every bioterrorist attack overseas carrying the possibility that Leon's body was among those being pulled from the carnage.

You, who he was calling right now with the jacked cell phone from Chris's pocket, dial tone droning on.

Leon had been stung last, used as nothing more than an example to show off the latest weapon in the bioterror market. Yet he was losing feeling fast, much faster than Chris or even Claire struggling in the other cell. It was like his atoms were screaming at him, writhing in him at a molecular level. Breathing felt like it was through a damp cloth, lungs having to work twice as hard to suck oxygen into his lungs. His eyelids were struggling to stay awake and fight off the black curtains that floated in the corners. he could see the way that the others looked at him, with pity and with concern. As soon as he had caught the eye of Chris, saw the flicker of fear cross the usually confident man's face, he knew that he was reacting worse than all of them.

So here he was, heart in his throat as he prepared to tell you the words he hadn't been expecting to say when he left that morning. When the line doesn't pick up he curses, waiting for the tone. He wasn’t going to waste his chance.

"Hi! If I haven't picked up, I can't come to the phone right now. If you leave a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Please wait for the beep, thank you!"

He smiles to himself at the chipper tone of your voice, sounding heaven sent even through the phone. When he hears the tone he takes a deep breath, as big as he can and puts a fake smile on his face. He hopes that it makes his tone come out just a little sweeter for you, even though he knows that you'll be worried regardless.

"Hey, Sweetheart." he starts, voice raspy. "I'm sorry to be calling you like this. I just wanted to call to hear your voice. I-I missed you. I know you didn’t pick up, so you're probably busy. Now don't call me back immediately, I... won’t be able to pick up for a while. I just...damnit I wanted to just hear you." He grits out, head falling against the bars as he loses strength in his neck. He catches eyes with Chris, the older man's eyes misting over as he looks down at him before he turns his head away, the most privacy he can give him in the situation.

"I just wanted to call to let you know that I love you...and I miss you." he begins again. With his eyes closed the words come easier, the image of you flitting into his mind's eye. You look at him in his spectral vision with a smile, encouraging him to go on. He feels his chest ease, like he's actually talking to you, and the both of you are the only ones in the room. "I know you're going to worry. I know this doesn't sound good-" he grits his teeth against another hot flash of pain. "And... it’s not." he finishes. "I want to tell you…that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'm gonna make it home tonight, baby. I... I might not make it back from this." he tries to chuckle, but the sound is dry, and the effort hurts his chest. "Things got bad here, and it's not looking good. I think- I think it ends here, honey. If I don't make it just...just, please look after yourself."

He takes a shaky breath, and the silence of everyone around him is deafening. The scene is oddly private and uncomfortable for the others in the vicinity, while the usually ever-energetic man known as Leon delivers his verbal will. "I know you won’t want to go, but go on that cruise. You worked hard for it, and you were so excited. I wanted to go swimming with you, fall asleep by the pool and pretend it was the honeymoon I owe you. So, I want you to still go on it. Even if I don't come back...I'll ask the big man above to let me hang around long enough to do it with you, even if you won't be able to see me. I made a promise remember? No more missing big things." he whispers into the phone.

His throat is beginning to hurt, like speaking around a sharp lump every time he formed a word. "And the house is yours, it should go into your name. The car, everything, you'll have it all. I just...I just wish it could have been different, you know?" he says into the receiver, that has begun to waver by his cheek. "But it is what it is, and I guess it finally caught up to me. I'm sorry I was such a shitty husband." he says, a light tremor in his voice. "I wish I had come home to you more, not left the bed cold. I wish I could have made you more dinners and more breakfasts in bed, just to show you how much I loved you. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I never told it to you enough, or managed to even put into actions just how much you mean to me, but I do. You mean everything, sweetheart." he chokes into the phone, a small smile on his face. "I love you more than anything, so...so don't think anything else, okay? This isn't your fault. It never was. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, you hear me? So you pick yourself up when I'm gone," he gasps out, hand beginning to waver. "You put yourself back in that saddle, and you show the world just how strong you are. Show them the person I fell in love with." he says with a smile, before breaking into a fit of painful coughs.

"Don't stay up, sweetheart. Get to bed early. I miss you, more than you'll ever know." he coughs out into the receiver before his body can't hold him up anymore and he slides down the bars until his cheek is pressing into the concrete, hand falling to his side and phone clattering against the stone. He can hear the tone end, and the automated whoosh sound as the voicemail sends. With bleary eyes he can make out the turned head of Claire, looking down at him with wobbling lips and tear-filled eyes.

"Look after 'em, hey?" he rasps out, pain in his chest stabbing as the black curtains begin to slide across his vision. Claire nods, and he can hear Chris grunt in the background. Leon falls into an unconsciousness shortly after, the smiling image of you the last thing he holds close to him as the blackness swallows him completely. As his body stills, a small smile is frozen on his face, the arrogant half tilted smirk he so loved to give you.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Typing away at your computer, you work till your eyes go square from the computer screen. You wipe a hand over your face as you review the spreadsheet that you're working on, leaning back to take a sip of your coffee. Your music blasts in your headphones, and for a quick break you pull up the checklist you've made for your upcoming holiday.

You're so engrossed in your work that you're unaware as your phone screen glows to life beside you, message popping across your notification bar.

You have (1) new voicemails.

[alexpdcl]

Keep drawing Chrisker bestie <3

chrisker? haven't heard that name in a loooooooooooooooooong time ..... here's something i cleaned up ... missed them fr ...

[andyacklesspn]

« 💚💙 »

Dedicated to @mayarokuaya

[delphi-shield]

SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily

finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.

characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong

content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)

You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.

It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?

Chris Redfield ↪

Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)

If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.

You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?

Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.

Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."

If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.

That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"

And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?

Jill Valentine ↪

Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.

Oh, she’s bothered.

Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.

She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.

You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.

She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.

Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."

Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."

Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.

"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"

Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.

Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.

Leon Kennedy ↪

Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.

Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”

You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”

His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”

But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:

“Babe, have you seen my gun?”

You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:

"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."

Ada Wong ↪

I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.

She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.

It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.

She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–

“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”

She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”

She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

Code Veronica edition

[dollfacefantasy]

LIGHT OF THE FULL MOON ♡

pairing: werewolf!chris redfield x fem!reader

summary: your husband hasn't been the same since coming back from his latest mission. you struggle to understand the cause, not wanting to believe the worst. on the night of a full moon, tensions peak and you're determined to find out the truth.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, knotting, monsterfucking, predator/prey, breeding kink, size kink, dacryphilia, PTSD mention

wc: 6.5k

a/n: long awaited but i hope you guys like! happy almost halloween <33 reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated :)

kinktober slot: day 30 - monsterfucking

Your husband had been acting strange lately.

Not the typical mid-life crisis kind of strange. There was no new Ferrari parked in the garage, nor had Chris begun to dedicate his time to a niche hobby like roller skating. His behavior was much more... off-putting than those things would be. That was the only way you could think to describe it.

It all began at the beginning of this last Summer when he came home from a short mission.  The trip spanned two weeks and took him up to a sparse, expansive piece of the Canadian wilderness. You weren't especially worried about him while he was gone. You were more upset about the fact that he was going to miss your wedding anniversary than anything else.

Your lack of concern didn't come from a place of callousness. Rather the opposite. You'd been an agent too. It was how you and Chris met. Before a stray bullet to your thigh knocked you out of commission, you had field assignments of your own. You knew that they were only made more stressful when you had someone at home you know worries about you.

So you never did. You trusted that he'd come back to you in one piece like he always does.

This time he did come back in one piece. Walked through the front door like usual with his bag slung across his back and his arms ready for you. You crossed the foyer and sprung yourself against his chest, your smaller arms wrapped around his bulky abdomen.

"I missed you, baby," he murmured, pecking your temple and engulfing you with his thick arms, "My beautiful wife of... how many years is it now?"

You rolled your eyes at the joke and tapped his arm. It was when you followed him back to your bedroom to put his stuff down that your eyes widened and caught on his forearm.

"Jesus! What happened to you?" you asked and took the limb in your hands.

Just below his elbow was a sizable bite. You could tell the type of injury from the crescent pattern of the cuts. If you had to guess, you'd say it probably came from a dog, but you'd never seen a canine with a jaw so large. The wounds were deep red, scabbed over by this point. The nearby skin glowed with the color of injury. You could tell whatever had got him, sunk its teeth in deep.

He looked down at the afflicted area and then back at you before shrugging. "It's nothing. You know how it goes. Those things can be rabid, but I'll heal up in a few days."

Your pupils continued to scan his flesh uncertainly. "I guess..." you conceded.

His statement was true. That wasn't your problem. Of course, you'd seen him with bites before. You'd even been bitten yourself on the job. But it never looked like this. So... gruesome. Upon looking closer, you could see tiny sprawls of plum-tinted veins accompanied by dark patches of discolored skin.

"They treated you, right? You're sure it's not infected?" you checked again.

"Honey, it's fine. C'mon, I know you missed me, but you don't gotta freak out about this," he dismissed in kind.

Despite his claims, he let you fuss over him. You were hesitant to even touch the markings, afraid of causing him pain or irritating the skin further.

He didn't seem to be hurting though. In his recovery, he never complained of aches or stings or throbs. Never held it closer to his body than normal or relied on his left arm to perform tasks. It did eventually heal. He was left with little white patches of scar tissue, but the other array of colors faded.

The only reason you had to believe that this incident triggered his change in behavior was that he began to act differently a few weeks later. 

It started with his sleeping habits.

The Chris you knew slept the whole night through. Rested against your back, spooning you. His body heat radiated from him like a space heater for a solid eight hours every night. He'd wake up with his face nestled in the crook of your neck and plant a few kisses there before pulling away to get up and go about his morning routine.

But now he didn't even come to bed before you'd fallen asleep. His side of the mattress would be vacant when you woke up as well. At first it left you to question whether he'd been there at all. Now though, you're certain he's doing something else during the nocturnal hours. The only thing you couldn't figure out was what that other thing could be.

The next piece of this puzzle came in the way he started eating.

Since that mission, he seemed to have a craving for meat. Red meat. Burgers, steaks, whatever you had in the house. He wanted it all and in large portions. Not only that, but the way you cooked it didn't suit his tastes anymore. You sat across from him at the dinner table with wide eyes as he ate the food you'd prepared to his request. A steak so rare it looked like blood leaked from the raw slab out onto the plate.

Anytime you'd ask about any of this, he'd brush you off with a new excuse. He was just sleeping less now. He'd stayed up later playing a video game. He was waking up earlier to try a new running regime. The food thing was just something his friend told him about and he wanted to try. Supposed to build protein and lower your bmi or some bullshit.

That stuff you could have overlooked, but then he started to look different.

You wanted to blame his new diet for the sudden thickness with which his body hair grew. And perhaps his new workout schedule effected him as planned and could explain the way he was bulking up and nearly popping out of his shirts with gained muscle mass. You weren't so sure though.

If anything, you tried to pin this on your own mind. You were being paranoid. Life wasn't some horror movie. Monsters did exist, but you'd seen them already. They didn't look like this. Right?

And in his defense, not all the changes you'd noticed were bad. Your life in the bedroom had grown much more interesting since his return.

That day he came back, you figured it was his way of making up for your missed anniversary. He'd pounded into you for hours. Rutted into your poor little cunt till it was sore and puffy, struggling to take his thick shaft. What you would've believed to be an impossible amount of arousal coated your inner thighs and soaked the bed sheets beneath you by the time you were done. You knew he had stamina, but for those hours, Chris seemed like another animal entirely.

Every time since then had been similar. They didn't last as long as your reuniting session, but they were just as passionate. He was so much rougher than he'd ever been before. Typically, your husband was overly-cautious with you. Every move he made had his size and strength in mind when deciding the amount of force he'd use to manhandle your legs or snap his hips against your ass.

Now he fucked without a care in the world. His teeth scraped against your neck hard enough to mark. His fingertips left bruises accompanied by the scratches from his nails.

He also came inside you now every time without fail. Since you started taking the pill not long after the two of you started dating, that had always been his favorite place to release. But how he would do it lately... you didn't know any other word for it but primal. When he came, he buried himself inside you. Every inch of his cock filled the snug space between your walls. He growled as it shot out of him, rope after rope. He stuck to you like he wanted to make sure not a drop leaked out or went to waste.

So on that end of things, you didn't mind his shift in personality. It only became a problem when he started going out so often.

He told you a myriad of different places he went to or groups he hung out with, but you didn't believe him. You doubted Jill wanted to see him at ten p.m. on a Wednesday, and you struggled to accept Leon needed some form of help that took him eight hours of the night.

It was always dark out when he was gone, and then there would be certain days of the month that he didn't come back until well into the next morning. That was what drove you crazy. You'd never felt such distrust in your husband before. You always believed him to be faithful. You didn't worry about other women or being replaced or a number of other things your friends complained about with their spouses. You and Chris were a team.

But that vision shattered when you decided to test out the validity of his alibis one night. It hadn't been planned. You always thought loyalty tests were for insecure people, but you hoped that's all you were now. This was just a bout of insecurity, not anything to be truly worried about.

You saw Chris left his phone on the kitchen counter one night, and the idea just sprung into your head. As if the devil himself whispered the words into your ear, you typed out a message to Leon, the man he was supposedly hanging out with.

"Hey, Chris left his phone here. Will you let him know I'll just swing by to drop it off if he's gonna be with you for a while? If he'll be back soon, I can just wait. Thanks :)"

With a shaky thumb, you clicked the send button. You paced around your kitchen while waiting for the response. It didn't arrive instantly. Leon took around ten minutes to get back to you.

"Hey. Chris isn't with me tonight. I'm sorry."

Your legs came to a stop. You clutched both phones so tight that they were in danger of shattering. The ten minutes wasn't spent talking with your husband or doing whatever you thought they did together. It was probably Leon trying to decide if he should cover for him or be honest with you. At least he chose the latter.

You didn't send anything back to the D.S.O. agent. Instead, you went to bed, leaving Chris's phone on his bedside table. You curled up under your blankets. The emptiness of half the mattress caused you physical pain that night. Your eyes shut over the building gloss of tears.

That was a week ago.

Chris had still been going out every night and rotating in one of his friends' names as his unknowing accomplices.

Tonight, you decide that this is it. You're not going to be the sad little wife who's just happy she gets to keep the house while her husband goes out and plays with the other woman. You're done being fed lies and pretending you believe them. You're done being treated as disposable in your own marriage.

When he tells you he's leaving tonight, you say no. He's already been acting weird today, skittish and jumpy, constantly watching the clock. You aren't just going to sweep it under the rug this time. This conversation will get to the bottom of it.

You glare at him from where you're sitting on the couch, watching as confusion overtakes his features. Rarely are you ever firm with Chris. You know how to stand up for yourself, but he rarely gives you a reason to act any kind of strict.

"You're not leaving yet," you repeat.

His expression doesn't change. He stands at the beginning of the hallway to the front door, waiting for you to explain your sudden attitude. It's already getting late. The sky outside is pitch black except for the light of the full moon.

"Tell me where you're going," you demand.

"Out with Leon."

Your expression darkens. "Why are you lying to me?" you ask next.

He's got a phenomenal poker face because not a hint of doubt shows anywhere on his exterior. He doesn't look away, doesn't fidget. All he does is step closer to you, reentering the living room.

"Why would you think that?" he asks, voice calm.

"Because Leon told me you haven't been with him at all," you fire back and stand up. You bolster your proof with exaggeration, but you're confident enough that you're right.

Now a reaction does show on Chris. You can see his jaw clench and his gaze sharpen. This wasn't going to be as easy to talk his way out of as he thought.

"I really don't have time for this tonight," he says.

Your anger is getting ready to boil over into fury at his dismissal.

"Really? Because all I have anymore is time! You leave me here alone every single night! I feel like I barely see you anymore," you say, "I'm supposed to be your wife, but I feel like I'm the side piece at this point."

"You think I'm cheating on you?" he scoffs, disgusted by the suggestion alone.

"What else am I supposed to think?" you explode, raising your voice now, "You don't tell me anything! You just leave to who-fucking-knows where every single night and expect me to be fine with that? I'm not."

"Calm down," he says. His own voice grows firm. He glances down at the time on his watch. His pupils move quickly, looking almost antsy.

"Do you have somewhere else to be? Something more important than this conversation?" you ask incredulously.

"I told you I don't have time for this. We can talk tomorrow," he says. His words come out with more bite which just stokes the flames of your temper.

"No. You can just tell me now," you say and cross your arms, "If you leave without telling me anything, then maybe consider telling your girlfriend to prepare for you to move in with her soon!"

"Give me a fucking break! I am not cheating on you!" he snaps, letting his voice boom, "There is no girlfriend. There's no one else I'm going to!"

He looks more upset now. Some definite anxiety mixed in with his irritation. He looks like he just wants to get out. You wonder if it's the panic of you closing in on the truth or something else that's bothering him. It makes you soften your approach the smallest bit. You sigh.

"Just give me something then. Something that will give me some peace of mind," you reason. You'll accept a half answer at this point. All you want is some semblance of explanation as to why he's going out every night.

But all he does is stare at you. It brings your temper back up, the uncomfortable feeling rising between your lungs.

"Just one thing, Chris! One fucking thing."

"I can't." His voice is strained as if he's trying to keep calm.

"Why?" you ask, flinging your arms up in frustration.

"I just can't. We'll talk about it tomorrow," he says.

With that, he turns to leave. You stand there stunned. But the shock only lasts a moment.

"You're leaving because I'm right and you can't think of a lie so quick!" you shout at him.

He doesn't even look back at you. His steps thud down the hall to the exit of your home. You can't stand it. How could he do this to you? This isn't the man you married. That guy never would have treated you like this.

Before you can even think about it, you're dashing after him. As mad as you are, you can't just let him leave. You love him. Nothing in the world will hurt more than him leaving.

He's moving fast, determined to get out as swiftly as he can, but you're quick too. You'd spent years of your life chasing mutated creatures that could sprint on all fours. Catching up to your husband was nothing.

You reach out for his arm and grab him at his elbow. Your eyes widen at the intensity with which he reacts. He jerks away as if the touch burns.

"Stay away from me," he says. The words don't even sound like his voice. They come out so deep. Almost like a snarl.

Accusations of infidelity are forgotten at this point because all you can feel now is concern.

"Chris... are you alright?" you ask in a much softer voice than you'd been speaking with before.

You reach for him again, barely laying a hand on his shoulder. It's like the touch knocks him back. He nearly trips over his own feet, crashing against your front door but failing to get it open. His shoulders heave, muscles in his back convulsing. A light sheen of sweat breaks out across his forehead.

This time you figure it's best if you stay back. All you did was touch him, but he seems as if he's going to be ill. You stand a few feet away, watching him nervously. His arms come up to cover his face, which blocks your view and prevents you from guessing what's wrong.

"Honey?" you try again gently.

"Get away from me," he rasps, "Leave. Go far away before you can't."

You're back to being lost. You try to think of what this could be. Maybe PTSD? Was he having some sort of flashback? You had accidentally touched the bite.

"I'm not going to leave. You know you can trust me. I'm always here for you. I just want to understand," you coax.

"It's not you I don't trust," he says. He breaks down into a coughing fit and his back arches. It looks like he's trying to restrain himself.

"Just tell me what you need," you say quickly, determined to help him through this, "Anything. Do you need water? Do you need me to call someone?"

Truly, you're lost on possible solutions. This doesn't look like any common sickness you'd seen. It looks more like an infection someone would get in the field. And upon realizing that, panic strikes your heart.

You don't get the chance to voice any fear though because he speaks first.

"Just get out of here," he growls, "Everything you do makes it worse."

Your heart pounds in your ears. What could this be? Did he have some kind of virus and didn't tell you? Maybe his unit was treated with faulty drugs. What if he had lied about getting that bite looked at? Your mind swirls with all these thoughts, and your breathing speeds up to match their pace.

You step back a little, but you're still hesitant to go. Never leave a man behind. That'd been drilled into you since the day you enlisted. You couldn't just leave him to suffer or maybe die. Especially not this man, your man.

You're about to say something else. You take a deep breath and conjure some words of reassurance.

But it's too late.

By the time you look back at him, you see the hair on his arms coming in thicker. It sprouts out another inhumane inch. His nails rise a little bit. The panic inside you courses through your veins with more intensity.

"What's happening to you?" you choke out.

"I told you to go. I wanted to leave. But you told me to stay," he grunts, still trying to conceal his face.

You're stunned into silence, trying desperately to think of what to say. All that comes out are the same words, repeated with a deeper sense of urgency. "What's happening to you?"

He tries to respond, but a strained groan erupts from him.

His body spasms. The seams of his shirt split as his shoulders broaden and muscles puff out. You watch in horror as your husband seems to transform. And then he finally turns his face and looks into your eyes. 

It's the stare of an animal looking at you.

Your hands fly to your mouth to muffle a cry you let out. For years, you thought you escaped your time as an agent mentally unscathed. Besides the occasional nightmare, you never dealt with flashbacks or survivor's guilt. Your damage was purely physical. The bullet to your leg had been it for you. But now, everything was rushing back. Every set of sharp, gnashing teeth. Every creature that lunged at you with its insides on the outside. Every person that should be dead stumbling towards you and trying to bite. All of them, running laps around your frayed mind.

The only thought you could conjure while looking at him was that one of those things was in your house.

You stumble backwards in terror, watching as he rises to his feet. He stands taller than normal. His tattered shirt falls away, his pants holding on by a thread. He's more hairy. His eyes look more intense.

"What are you?" you cry, hot tears beginning to roll down your cheeks.

His now-golden eyes continue to stare at you. The black slits his pupils had morphed into makes you nauseous. His chest is still heaving. It looks like he's resisting the urge to pounce on you.

"What's the matter? I thought you said we're in this together?" he growls.

"Chris!" you sob, "What is this? What did they do to you?"

"You know how it goes, baby," he manages to answer, "I got infected, and they don't know how to treat it yet."

"Why- why didn't you just tell me that?" you whimper, trembling violently.

"You think I wanted to see you looking at me like this? LIke I'm a goddamn monster."

"I'm sorry-" you say instantly, but he cuts you off. He's not interested in hearing that at the moment.

"I wouldn't cheat on you. I never would. I've been going out every night cause there's only two things that make this shit go away," he says, his words becoming more labored as he fights the urge to give into the infection.

"What are they?" you sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

"I go out every night to feed," he starts.

Another cry escapes you at the mere picture it puts in your head. There's no way in hell you're going to ask what - or rather who - he feeds on.

"But tonight, I can't because you didn't want me going out. So I guess we'll have to try the other thing," he rasps.

Your lip quivers violently. Why did he say we this time? You wait with baited breath to learn of your fate.

"You're gonna let me breed you," he says, eyes nearly burning two little holes into you with the heat in his gaze.

You feel like fainting at the idea. Your arms fall to your sides limply. Fear prickles up your spine and into your lungs. It feels like chains are wrapping around your torso, threatening to break your ribs. You could barely look at him like this. How were you supposed to...

"I- I don't know, Chris," you stammer out through tears.

"Well I do. We're gonna do this, or things are gonna get really ugly here," he says. It's a warning, not a threat, which makes it so much more real to you.

You're frozen again, unsure of what to do.

"I'll give you a head start. I need the chase," he says.

You stutter at first, unsure if you should take the opportunity to escape or try to reason with him some more. Though in the few seconds it takes you to contemplate this, it really looks like he's losing control, so you decide to take your chances running.

Whipping around, you bolt down the hall towards the back door. You'd have to leave that way since he was blocking the other point of exit. You plan your route in your head just like you used to during missions. 

There's also always the alternate possibility of darting up the stairs and getting the gun from the bedroom, but you aren't sure if bullets work on him, let alone if you could bring yourself to use it. Even in this new form, you still love him. You don't want to lose him.

So instead you practically rip the backdoor off its hinges before prancing across the porch and into the yard. The air outside is cooler, bringing a chill over you as your feet pad through the soft grass below.

You're in the process of hopping over the fence when you hear the door crash open again. He's after you now.

Breaths leave you in harsh puffs. Your limbs go taut with the instinct to survive. Despite the laser focus of your mind, you still feel shrouded in fear. Where are you running to? What are you going to do when you get there?

You couldn't just run to a neighbor's house. Chris might tear through them like this, and you don't want anyone getting hurt. But there's nothing else. You don't live close enough to any place that could help. Whatever mutation he had would probably aid him in tracking you, so you doubted hiding was an option. He looks more than strong enough to scale a tree.

It doesn't seem like there's any way to escape, but you keep sprinting, hoping for a miracle.

You're fast, but you can still hear your husband barreling towards you from behind. You leap over a log in your way and twist around rocks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the big chunk of wood go flying seconds later. Then you hear a whoosh in what you assume is him leaping the boulder.

A small whimper leaves you, but you still keep going. You run in a straight line to keep your speed up. Your eyes stay locked straight ahead. He hasn't caught you yet. You can do this.

But interrupting your internal pep talk, the muscles in your thigh seize up, and you shriek. You go toppling to the ground, hitting it with a hard thud. It knocks the wind out of you. Your fingers claw at the dirt as you gasp for air.

This is why you were taken out of the field after your injury. If this happened out there, you'd be seconds away from death.

Right now though, you don't die. In lieu of the force of mortality, your husband crashes on top of you. You scream when he knocks into you. His large arms wrap around your body as the two of you roll across the grass. The struggle ends with him on top, grinning down at you with sharp canines in view. His chest puffs with the exertion it took to get here.

When you catch sight of his face, you wail louder. His features are somehow more pronounced, and a pair of pointed ears have sprouted atop his head. This is worse than any nightmare you've had before. You thrash beneath him, smacking your fists against his chest and jabbing your knees into his sides.

None of your fighting affects him. He wrestles your arms into place with ease and gets your legs to stop with his own, handling you as if you're merely throwing a silly tantrum.

"My sweet little wife," he rasps as he brings his face down to nose at your neck. He groans, his hips bucking as he takes in a breath of your scent. "You tried so hard, but you knew you wouldn't win."

His hand snakes down to massage the cramping muscles in your thigh. He knows just how to soothe them. Even with the rougher quality of his skin and longer nails, his digits move like they did just after you got surgery. Must be muscle memory.

He coos at your tears, nuzzling them away. "Shh, shh, shh, little one," he hushes, "You're gonna be fine. There's no safer place for you than with me."

You keep turning your head away, not wanting to look at him like this.

"Keeping those pretty eyes closed won't save you," he says.

You whimper, now trying to squirm away from him. Like before, he simply wrangles you back into place. He holds you down with one forearm across your collarbone, making you feel doubly pathetic. You push at the limb, but it's of no use. It may as well have weighed 1000 pounds the way you're simply unable to move it.

His free hand comes down to your belly. His warm palm spreads out over it. He holds it there for a moment, feeling how your stomach moves with each breath you take. Then his fingers slice upwards. His nails tear through your thin shirt like scissors through wrapping paper.

You shiver as he yanks it free, leaving your upper-half nude to the night air. Instantly, his hands paw at your breasts. He gropes them, fingers digging into the plump flesh and squeezing them together. His mouth stays at your neck. He kisses the skin, but his movements are sloppy. He laps at your pulse point, heavy breaths fanning over the wet area.

Despite your fear, the touches still stir feelings of desire within your body. You moan softly as his canines scrape along your throat. He chuckles lowly at the sound.

"You smell even better when you're a little scared," he says.

Your pants are next to go. He shreds them into pieces, letting them fall off your figure onto the grass. You squeak at the sound of the denim tearing.

He grinds down on you harder. His hips roll with such force it feels like he's trying to meld you with the ground. The movements draw a longer whine out of you, which in turn sends a rush of arousal through him.

You feel his bulge filling out against your center. It seems larger than ever before. After all these years of marriage, you know what his cock feels like. You've committed every detail to memory, and right now isn't matching up. You wrap your arms tighter around his abdomen out of the instinct to seek comfort from him. He does the same with to you, keeping you flush against his large frame for a few moments.

But then he lets you go. He pulls back and pushes down the remnants of his pants, freeing his cock from its confines. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at the sight of the engorged shaft. It's longer for sure, but it's so much fucking thicker. His balls look heavier too, hanging proudly beneath.

You don't get much time to examine it because he's back on you in an instant.

"You're gonna take it so well, baby," he mutters against your lips before capturing them in a kiss.

You mewl, overwhelmed by his body all over you and his tongue intruding into your mouth. Kissing back reluctantly, you feel his middle finger slot between your folds and press down. His sharp nail cuts a perfect slit in the damp fabric over your pussy. You shudder as now you can feel the air hitting your slick.

His cock soon interrupts that sensation as he slides it against your wetness. He rocks it up and down through your arousal. You're so hot there, between your thighs. He angles his hips downward and slides his length into you.

You gasp before gritting your teeth. Your fingers clump fistfuls of grass against your palms. He's so much bigger. It's always a stretch, but this feels like the first time all over again. You can't even squirm because his large hands keep a firm hold on your hips.

The new size also affects him. A deep groan rumbles in his chest, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck. Inch by inch he fills you up completely. It's nearly unbearable by the time he bottoms out. Your lip wobbles and more tears stream down your cheeks freely. They blur your vision, but it doesn't matter much as your eyes flutter anyways.

He can feel the shake of you crying, smell the salt of your tears. Neither make him slow down or stop. He digs his fingers into the dough of your hips harder, keeping you steady as he ruts into you.

"My fuckin' mate. Could never want anyone else," he grunts. He fucks into you a few more times before nipping at your neck and then continuing. "You're ok, baby. You were made for this. Made to take me."

You shriek as a particular snap of his hips shoves the head of his cock right up against your cervix. Cries accompany your tears now. Loud sobs pour from your mouth in a deluge.

He lets you be noisy. The large grassy field behind your house provides the room for you to scream as loud as you need. No one would be bothering you out here. Even if they did, it's not like they could do anything to stop Chris.

Your walls spasm around the veiny shaft that pulls in and out of your drippy hole, desperate to acquiesce to the large intrusion. His rhythm is already so quick. He pistons into you like he's in a rush; like if you're not bred here and now, he won't survive, which isn't far off from the truth.

You feel hot breaths against your throat. They come out quicker than the knocks of his pelvis against your ass. Noises akin to growling scratch at the back of his throat but never fully erupt.

"It's too much!" you finally wail, hoping for some sort of reprieve.

None is granted to you though. More broken sobs explode into the night air, but his face stays planted against your neck just as his cock stays nestled in your cunt.

"It's not too much," he finally mutters after a few seconds, "You're gonna take it all, and then you're gonna take my seed. Gonna take my pups, and you're gonna look perfect doing it."

Your body involuntarily squirms at the notion. You and Chris had both come to the decision that kids weren't for you. With his work and the mileage on your body from your own, the two of you decided to forgo that part of the white-picket-fence fantasy.

Now he's breeding you with dedication you've never seen him give to another task. Sure he isn't himself, but you'd still be yourself if he knocked you up. With all your stresses lately about your marriage potentially falling apart, slip ups with your pills have been happening more often.

It's hard to think any of this though from the way he batters your insides and molds them to his will. Your thoughts fade away in favor of an empty haze where everything is about him. Everything feels soft and dreamy when you let go. You wonder if his mind feels like another version of this.

"That's it. Atta girl. You know you're meant to be a mama, huh?" he rasps as your body melts down into a puddle.

"Chris!" you gasp. Your legs try to wrap around his large waist, but they can't get a good hold with how fast he's moving.

"Keep crying for me, little one," he says.

And that you do. Your fingernails drag down the rippling muscles in his back as you whine and cry. The sensation doesn't affect him at all. There's no hint of pain on his face, not an inkling of discomfort. Arousal floods out of you and around his length as he just keeps going.

"Gonna get you so full. No way it won't take."

Your knees bat at his side, but not out of resistance this time. You just can't control the tremors that take over you. They make your legs seize up and flail.

"So cute..." he grunts, "Your little body working so hard to take it all. Just like it'll work hard at carrying my pups."

Finally, you lose control. You think you cum, but it's hard to tell because you don't come down afterward. Trapped in this never-ending high, your eyes roll back and your body goes limp. White fills your vision just as hot pleasure covers every inch of your skin. He yanks you closer now, humping into your pussy like you're nothing more than a toy for him to play with.

"Good girl. Let it all go. Nothing's better than this. Just doing what you're supposed to. My perfect breeding pet," he growls.

Despite the rest of your body flopping around in his arms, your pussy stays nice and tight. It helps get him there. Each stroke into your heat drags him closer to the edge. He can't stop until he reaches the peak.

When he finally does, he throws his head back and releases with a roar. His muscles tense, his hips moving with the natural desire to breed. He doesn't have to think about anything. His cum spills out of him and into you.

It keeps going for a long time. You're not sure if it's because you're so out of it, but it's the longest orgasm you've seen anyone have. You can feel globs of his seed spilling trying to spill out of you even though he hasn't pulled out.

One last burst shoots against your walls, but then something finally pulls you back to reality. The intense stretch of his knot swelling up. You cry out, eyes widening in panic. Your hands push at his chest haphazardly.

Like every time tonight though, he won't let you go. He holds you on the swollen base of his cock. At least now though, when he's not trapped in the fervor of primal lust, he has the decency to kiss away your tears and stroke your cheeks.

"It's ok, sweetheart. Not much longer. You did so good for me," he whispers before kissing your nose, "Sweet little baby. You took so much didn't you?"

You nod lazily, watery eyes looking to him for reassurance.

"Yes, you did," he coos, "You just have to let it take now, and then you'll be all done."

His body stays true to his word. You don't have the exact time, but it's not too much longer before his knot begins to deflate.

You're relieved when the burn of the stretch begins to recede and fade away. It allows for a hazy sleepiness to take over instead.

Everything fades away. Your eyes droop, turning your vision to black. Vaguely, you feel Chris picking you up and the faint bobbing of steps. You hear the door creak and shut. Then soon, you feel the softness of your mattress beneath you and your blankets draped above you.

The last thing you feel before you shut your eyes is the weight of his bulky arm curling around your body and the heat of his chest against your back.