#prince!chris redfield x fem!reader

[lipglossanon]

Little Whispers

Prince!Chris Redfield x Lady-In-Waiting!reader (one shot)

Takes place in the Fairy Tale AU, A Dozen Roses

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, power dynamics, flirting, kissing, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️

“Brother, am I to believe you did not come away with a bride?”

You hide your smile, helping your lady pin her long fiery hair into place. Prince Redfield snorts and crosses his arms. 

“You are correct, dear sister,” he glares at her through her looking glass, brown eyes locking onto her blue ones, “she seemed to be spoken for.”

“By whom?”

He shifts uneasily, dropping his hands as he runs one through his messy brown hair. 

“I cannot say only that it seemed to be more of a social call,” he answers cagily.

His gaze flickers around the room until he meets yours, making you quickly drop your eyes back down to the Princess. 

“Did you hire yourself a new lass?” He asks humorously. 

“If you must know, Lord Burnside sent her from his estate,” Princess Claire huffs out, letting you place the last pin in her hair before standing up, “she is to stay with me and be my lady-in-waiting.”

Prince Chris nods, “Welcome to our home.”

You curtsy and bow your head, “Thank you, my lord.”

When you stand up straight, his brown eyes are staring at you, lips lifted in a grin. Attention shifting to his sister, he offers her a lazy salute. 

“I shall see you at dinner later. I’m taking the dogs out hunting,” he turns back to you, sending you a wink, “my lady.”

As he slips out the door, the Princess rolls her eyes. 

“Pay him no mind, he’s but an oaf,” she brushes her skirts down, “now, let us join the other ladies.”

After an extremely long, and quite boring, social call with the other ladies in the castle, the kitchen boy enters to announce supper is ready. Falling in step behind your mistress, you follow her into the grand dining hall where other lords and ladies have gathered. 

“Chris told me he asked these cretins to leave,” she whispers to you angrily, “they only sup at our table to try and garner his attention.”

You hum and nod, “Maybe he wishes to keep an eye on them, my lady?”

She frowns and lets you help her into her seat near the head of the table, catching the Prince’s attention. 

“And what gossip are you two lasses whispering about?” His brown eyes shift between you two, a smile playing across his lips. 

“Just that you have poor taste in company,” the Princess sniffs haughtily, “how goes the hunt?”

Prince Redfield laughs, voice loud and boisterous, “If not for my company, you would not have a little lord of your own would you, dear sister?”

His amusement turns to you, “What say you, lady?”

“It is not my place to judge, my lord,” you bow, stepping back from Princess Claire’s seat to stand with the other servants. 

“Aye, tis good you know your place,” he chuckles a little lower and it makes your body feel warm. 

As they dig into the feast before them, you sneak glances of the Prince. He’s tall and broad, his dark hair and brown eyes striking with his bearded face. A small scar cuts across his eyebrow, but it only enhances his looks. He catches you staring once and grins rakishly making you drops your eyes, shyness creating a warmth in your body. 

After dinner is finished, various manservants move the tables out of the way for that evening’s entertainment. The Prince and Princess welcome the band of musicians and dancers, sitting atop their thrones to oversee all. Being beckoned by your lady, she sends you off to prepare her rooms with the other maids so you may learn the routine. 

Once her chambers have been made ready, you bid the others goodnight and walk along the corridor to wait upon the Princess once more. A large shadow moves away from an alcove and you gasp, clutching the neck of your gown. 

“Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Prince Chris steps further into the light given from the sconces on the wall. 

“Apologies, Prince,” you quickly curtsy, “I am not used to the castle just yet.”

“How does it fair to Lord Burnside’s?” He steps closer, slowly corralling you into another alcove— unseen from prying eyes. 

“Oh it is much more impressive, my lord,” you smile, “such an honor to be here and serve his beloved Princess.”

“An honor?”

He hums and draws closer to you until you step away to keep some distance only for your back to press against cold stone.  Heat pools low in your stomach, knowing exactly what kind of intimate position this places you in with the Prince. 

“Is it an honor to serve me? Tis my castle you live in now,” he murmurs, hand brushing across your cheek to trace your jaw and down your neck. 

“O-of course, my lord.”

Shivering, you wet your lips, hands falling to your side. You won’t deny that you have thought the Prince a handsome man from the times he and his sister have visited Lord Burnside. You never dreamt you would catch his eye in such a way; it’s thrilling and illicit, arousal pulsing through your body. 

He braces a forearm against the wall next to your head, his other hand gripping your waist before trailing down your hip. Gasp hitching in your chest, your eyes flutter as he pets down your gown and begins to pull it up your legs. With a warm hum, he slips a hand under your skirts to cup your leaking sex. 

“Such a wet mess betwixt your legs, my pretty lass,” he coos in your ear, thick fingers petting across your clit before spreading your lips to tease against your dripping hole, “are you going to let your lord have a taste?”

“Whatever you wish,” you whimper, nipples tightening as he laughs and kneels down at your feet.

“Lift these skirts,” he directs, hands sliding up your calves to grip your thighs. 

A soft gasp falls from your mouth as you grab the bottom of your gown and drag it up, baring your lower body to Prince Redfield. With a wicked grin, he kisses your mound. 

“Think I’ll eat this fat cunt,” he noses at your clit, tongue parting your lips, “don’t be too loud.”

With those words ringing in your ears, the Prince laps at your hole, tongue spearing into your cunt with eagerness. Your fingers grip your skirts so tightly your knuckles hurt. Biting your lip, you keen in your throat as the Prince grinds his face up into your wet heat. His beard scratches at your sensitive skin and increases the pleasure to the point of pain. 

“Oh,” a soft whispering moan escapes your mouth when Prince Redfield flattens his tongue and drags it up to your swollen bundle of nerves. 

His tongue flutters wildly, lapping at your pudgy bud until your hips rock into his mouth. With a low chuckle, he slips his middle and ring finger into your leaking hole. 

“Such a dirty whore,” he pulls back and spits on your cunt, “letting me ruin you like this. What would your mistress think?”

Whimpering, you clench your eyes shut, trying to hold back any noise. Your body burns hot like an ember as the Prince laughs and goes back to licking and kissing your dripping cunt. Pleasure overrides your senses, the only thing you’re aware of is the mouth latched to the apex of your thighs; of the stillness in the empty corridor of the castle; of the utter mess leaking down your legs and dripping onto the stone floor. 

The Prince pulls away, his brown eyes nearly black in the torchlight, “Shall I use my cock so that we both feel good?”

“We shouldn’t,” you whimper while he stands up to his full height, hands undoing the lacing on his trousers. 

He pulls his stiff cock free and your lips part with a sigh. He’s thick and long, swollen tip dripping with seed as he strokes the length. With a low laugh, he presses you against the wall harder, hand gripping the base of his cock and dragging it against your soft folds. 

Whimpering softly, you cover your mouth while he taps the head against your swollen bundle before parting your cunt to dip into your hole.

“Shall I take you as a husband takes a wife?” He rumbles, dragging his cock back up to rub and bump against your clit, “shall I fill you with my royal seed til you’re dripping and staining the floor?”

You know you should say no, should beg his forgiveness and deny him any claim to your body. But you’ve only had a few fumbles in the hay with men no more knowledgeable than boys. Price Redfield is offering you a chance to experience something you’ve only dreamt about. 

Nodding, you dare not move your hands away from your mouth. He smiles crookedly and notches his cock at your entrance. 

“Good girl,” he whispers as he slowly presses inside your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back as he presses deeper and deeper inside your body, cunt sucking him in eagerly, inner walls fluttering and pulsing around his thick cock. 

“Greedy girl,” he rasps against your ear once he bottoms out, balls lightly smacking against your skin. 

He pulls out halfway before sinking back in to the hilt, your chest heaving in silence. 

“How does it feel?” He drops one hand away from the wall to ghost across your swollen bud, “how does a Prince’s cock feel in your fat cunt?” 

You gasp weakly, hands falling away from your mouth to scratch at his broad shoulders. He chuckles and dips down to kiss you, beard rough against your cheeks as his tongue delves into your mouth much how he ate your cunt earlier. 

He pulls away with a wet kiss, “Answer me, lass.”

Your mind feels like an empty pool of pleasure, body singing with it as he thrusts his cock into your squelching hole. 

“It feels good, my lord,” you mewl quietly, eyes fluttering as he rubs your clit in slow circles, “it feels so good.”

He groans and grasps your thighs, dragging your back up the wall and hoisting you higher. His next thrust makes you cry out shamelessly as his cock fills you completely, hole stretching to take all of him at a new angle. 

“That’s it, pretty maid,” he grunts in your ear, “scream for me. Let everyone know the Prince is fucking your soft wet cunt where anyone can see.”

Your blood feels like it’s on fire, the pressure and pleasure builds in your core until you teeter over an edge you’ve only heard whispers of between the other maids. 

“Aye,” he laughs, brown eyes crinkling with warmth, “you’ll gift me with your sweet slick as I in turn give you my seed.”

You gasp and he bites your bottom lip. 

He whispers against your mouth, “Let me ruin you, my pretty lass.”

His fingers thrum across your swollen bud at the same time he bottoms out inside your cunt and it snaps the tension coiled inside your body.  With another low cry, your nails dig into his shoulders as your cunt bears down on his cock, inner walls milking him for his royal seed. He groans, hips flexing as he grips you tightly, thrusting hard and fast to chase his own end. 

Leaning forward, he sinks his teeth into the skin where your neck and shoulder meet as he pumps your cunt full of his spend. You moan weakly, feeling the sticky heat of his cum breeding your hole until it spills out to drip down your thighs. He pulls away with a grunt, more of his spend spattering onto the floor as your used cunt throbs. 

“Your mistress will not miss you for one night,” his blown out gaze slowly moves from your swollen cunt up to your hazy eyes, “shall I show you my quarters?”

With your nod, he gently places you back down onto your feet and drops your gown to cover the mess he made of your cunt. He presses a quick kiss to your temple and grasps your wrist. 

“Then follow me, my pretty lass.”

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (9)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Implied child kidnapping ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 9: Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Another night, another part of the mystery to solve. But first, you had agreed to go into work. Nothing was going to stop you, not even the ‘Prince’s orders’. Something about having a nightly routine kept you sane and grounded you in reality. Not that what you were experiencing wasn’t real, but you didn’t want to lose touch with the living. You didn’t want to become like… Leon?

You heaved a disheartened sigh thinking about it. You’d been giving the man the silent treatment ever since returning from the Spencer Mansion, and you didn’t like it one bit. Hurting people wasn’t something you enjoyed — be it ignoring them out of spite or acting in a way that would lead to someone’s unfair demise. It didn’t help that you were constantly being reminded of how powerless and insignificant you were. Was this the best you could do when taking a stand? Or was there something more?

Working felt like walking. You went through the motions: socializing with your colleagues, pandering to customers, planning out the next month’s events program, making a couple of calls along the way, and your personal favorite — sorting out the cafe’s finances. Even the Redfields showed up, informing you and by extension, Leon, that they were still on the suitor’s case and would have something juicy for you soon.

“Do you ever miss the sun?” you wondered out loud. 

It had barely been a week since you turned, but you were already bemoaning the fact that you wouldn’t be able to live to see it. Although the nights were longer now that the year had entered into its colder period, you had thought ahead, speculating how it would be like when summer returned again. That was depressing.

“Always,” Claire responded, patting your shoulder empathetically.

“Best not to think about it,” Chris chimed in, taking a swig from his beer bottle. “You’ll get used to it at some point, and besides, there’s always YouTube.”

“Very helpful, Chris,” his sister huffed in disdain, forcefully backhanding her brother so that he choked on a bit of his beer.

“What the fuck, sis?” he groaned, wiping the beer stains off his clothes with his bare hands in annoyance. “On my nice shirt as well.”

For some reason the constant bickering between the siblings caused you to double over in laughter and they looked at you in amusement. After you recovered from your giggling fit, you pointed to Chris' bottle, asking, “So you can do that thing of actually enjoying what you eat and drink?”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe you can teach me?” you tested the waters. “Leon was supposed to, but—” You stopped yourself in your tracks, realizing that you’d have to share a lot more than you would be comfortable with.

Unfortunately, Claire was perceptive enough. “Trouble in Paradise?” she suggested, only to continue on her train of thought when you didn’t answer, “Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me. He may be a prick who needs a nudge in the right direction, but he’ll come around.”

She pressed her arm against the wall and leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “And I hate to say this, but he’s actually a good guy.”

The expression on your face must’ve given away how you felt when Claire had uttered those last words. She quickly peppered it with, “He must’ve screwed up pretty bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say it’s one screw up after the other,” you finally replied.

Chris gave a low chuckle, “Sounds like him alright.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame the guy for trying though.”

“Alright, I’ll let you in on something,” Claire began, only to be interrupted by her brother.

“Oh man, not again! Can’t ever keep your goddamn mouth shut, can you?” he scolded.

“Shut up, Chris! She’s cool with us, you know that,” she retorted and he conceded, though you could still hear him grumbling in the background.

Turning towards you triumphantly, she continued, “I’ll keep it short. He saved my brother's skin; I owed him a life boon, and Chris probably did too, but he turned it down in the end.”

“Yeah, said something about not wanting to take advantage,” Chris piped up, shaking his head in disbelief. “To this night, it still floors me.”

What they had said gave you some pause. It seemed as though Leon had a bunch of demons to confront, and there was always an internal battle waging. You just hadn’t been able to break through. But did you want to in the end? Or would you just leave him to rot in his own misdoings? You weren’t anyone’s savior and you didn’t want to be. You simply wanted to do what felt right to you.

“Guess there’s a lot more to him that I don’t know about,” you mused.

Chris’ wide palm met your back with a loud thump that reverberated across your chest. “Hey, chin up, kid. It’ll take a while, but you’ll get there. Us Brujahs don’t give up without a fight.” His brown eyes lit up and crinkled, fine lines of crow’s feet fanning out from the corners. “And no matter what anyone says, I still think you’re one at heart.”

“Brujah, huh? I like the sound of that.” A crooked smile played across your lips as you laid your cards out on the table. “I’ve heard you’re fierce fighters. Mind showing me a few tricks? Just so I know how to fend for myself.”

Chris stood taller, eyeing you with curiosity as a sense of pride visibly swelled in his chest.

“I could throw in a supply of beers on the house to sweeten the deal,” you added, pointing at the empty bottle he was clutching at his side.

He barked out a laugh before responding, “Well, now that you put it that way, you’ve got my hands tied.” Placing his bottle down on a table beside him, he agreed, “Sure, I’ll give you some tips, but a word of warning: I don’t go easy.”

The rest of your shift went by without event, until Leon dropped by to pick you up for the next meeting planned that night. Since neither of you had gotten any real leads on the case yet, he thought it best to visit the Bakers first before heading back to NEST, where the Primogens' offices were and where Jill would be waiting impatiently for answers. 

In the jeep, the atmosphere was thick with tension, though along the way, he tried to cut through it with some advice. “I know you’re still upset and don’t want to talk, but I need to prepare you for this.” 

He tapped on the steering wheel nervously. “As Malkavians, the Bakers all suffer from some form of affliction following their Embrace. In this case, they believe a little girl called Eveline is part of the family, except no one else can see her.”

“You mean she’s invisible?”

The car swerved off-center as Leon glanced over at you, startled by your response. It was the first time you had spoken to him in a while. You clung onto the grab handle and yelled, “Keep your fucking eyes on the road!”

“Shit, um, sorry!” He focused his attention back to his driving, quickly stabilizing the vehicle before he spoke up again. “And, uh, no. I mean, we don’t think she actually exists.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and is that going to be a problem?”

“Not if you pretend she does,” he stated plainly. “Otherwise, they’ll get really provoked if you don’t interact with Eveline.”

“Right, thanks for the heads up.” You nodded curtly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, well, uh, just be—”

“Careful. Got it,” you finished the sentence for him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he emphasized. “These folks have always been rather isolated from the Camarilla. Last I heard, they don’t take kindly to strangers sticking their noses where they don’t belong. So, if all hell breaks loose in there, I want you to book it and run, alright?”

You frowned, shifting your gaze in his direction. If his intention was to allay your fears, he had done nothing but heighten them. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He flashed you a reassuring smile, but you could make out the hint of unease in the curl of his lips. “Take the car keys when we reach the place, so you have your escape route if needed.”

You let his words linger in the air as you kept quiet throughout the rest of the ride.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Reaching the outskirts of Raccoon City, you were traveling along Stone-Ville Road, where there was nothing but open land. The trees had been cleared from the forest, and multiple estuaries flowed from the Raccoon Dam. The area was sparsely populated, with only a smattering of houses spread out from each other in the distance. At some point, Leon made a left turn into a side road, heading towards a decrepit-looking estate that was slightly off the beaten track. It appeared to bear some similarities to the Spencer Mansion back in Arklay Forest, causing a spine-tingling shiver to sweep through your body.

“Designed by the same architect from the Trevor & Chamberlain fame,” Leon pointed out, seemingly able to read your mind.

“That guy from New York?” You remembered reading about him in magazine articles and the mystery of his disappearance as people mourned the loss of a genius.

“Yeah, so expect surrealist stuff, including puzzles and secret passageways,” he cautioned.

You balked at the thought of having to enter yet another labyrinth like the one at the Tremere Chantry.

��It’s just for a friendly chat,” he asserted, his calming blue gaze meeting yours. “I doubt there’s any need for us to explore the house, unless they make things difficult.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you muttered, tucking the car keys into your pocket as you stepped in front of a formidable, rusty gate.

It was unlocked, and as Leon pushed it open, it screeched on its hinges like a dead woman's wail, beckoning you towards the crumbling building before you, which was long past its heyday. The refurbished plantation house, where you assumed the Baker family lived, was part of a larger ranch estate, and it looked like something straight out of a slasher flick.

Leon pressed the doorbell, waiting to see if there was any sign of life. A light switched on, its mellow rays filtered through the window shades, and you heard hurried footsteps on the wooden floorboards until the door swung open. An older lady with her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail peered at both of you in confusion. She wore a tattered, sweat-stained button-up blouse and a brown skirt. Her coarse and wrinkled skin still carried an unfaded tan, suggesting a life of manual labor, where she had tended to the animals and fields under the sweltering sun.

“Can I help you, miss, mister?” she asked in a heavy Southern drawl. “We weren’t expecting anyone at this time.”

“Ma’am,” he dipped his head politely in acknowledgement. “Sorry for intruding on you like this, but there wasn’t any other way to contact you.”

“Well, we don’t want no trouble, young man. Just mindin’ our own business, that’s all.” Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she fiddled with the hem of her cotton blouse, glancing over her shoulder every now and then at a blank space behind her.

Your attention was drawn to the area she kept looking at, and as you concentrated on it, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You had the strangest sense that someone was there, but you couldn’t make out any shape or figure, just an energy. An icy chill gripped your head, as if cold hands were feeling along the grooves of your brain. You shuddered, realizing that whoever it was knew that you were aware of its presence.

“We don’t want any trouble either,” Leon assured, raising his palms slightly to indicate a truce. “We just have some questions we could use your help on, regarding an attack a couple of nights ago.”

The woman still clutched onto the door apprehensively. “Why? Who sent you?”

“The Prince put us on the investigation,” he disclosed warily.

At that moment, a shadowy figure materialized behind the woman, taking a few seconds before you could make out his features in the dim light. He was an older man, around the same age as her, balding and wearing spectacles. Likewise, his yellow striped shirt and beige pants were worn and filthy, as though he hadn’t changed out of it for decades.

“Prince?” he questioned defensively, placing his hand on the small of the woman’s back. “What does the Prince want? We didn’t do nothing wrong, son.”

“No, you didn’t,” Leon agreed, quickly following up with an explanation to assuage the man. “We have the assailants in custody, but it appears they’ve been brainwashed and manipulated through Dementation — a skill that you’re well-versed in.”

The man eyed him like a hawk as Leon continued, treading on thin ice. “We thought we could use your expertise, and if you might’ve picked up on anything out of the ordinary in the vicinity.”

There was a pregnant pause before the man relented, “Fine, you got five minutes to ask us anything you wanna know, son.” Pushing the door wide open, he gestured for you to enter. “Come on in.”

As you stepped into the gloomy premises, he pointed at you, flashing a warning glance in your direction. “And no more snoopin’ around, young lady.”

Oh, right. You must’ve unwittingly activated one of your powers earlier to sense his presence, when he had relied on his Obfuscate Discipline to remain hidden. “Sorry, my bad,” you mumbled. “It was an accident.”

He nodded, turning around to make his way into the living room where a dining table was situated. “You girls can come out now,” he hollered. 

You saw a younger woman with jagged, short hair emerge in a similar fashion to how the man did before, sitting at one of the chairs at the table. Despite that, you greeted two people as Leon had instructed, and he followed suit. A round of introductions followed, where you learnt that the older couple were Jack and Marguerite and their two daughters, Zoe and Eveline, with the latter being the youngest at ten years old.

Marguerite disappeared into the kitchen for a bit, only to return with a tray of crockery. She handed out cups to everyone and poured a red, viscous liquid from a teapot. Jack grumbled in the corner that it was meant to be a short meeting, but at the same time, couldn’t help but appreciate his wife’s hospitality. Bringing the cup to your nose, the liquid smelled musky, like earth, and you wondered where it came from.

“It’s the best I can offer at such last minute notice,” she apologized, wiping her hands on her blouse as she sat herself down. Twisting her head in the direction of the empty seat next to Zoe, she cooed, “But Evie likes it, don’t ya, sweetheart? That’s it, drink up now. Little piggy’s blood is good for you.”

You watched as the cup on the table remained motionless, while Marguerite bombarded the invisible entity with sweet words of encouragement. Trying to ease the awkwardness in such a situation, you took a mouthful of the liquid from your cup. It was the first time you tasted animal blood and as much as you hated to admit it, it was incredibly bland compared to human blood. Like a simple gruel versus a gourmet meal. Then again, neither could bagged blood beat the real thing, though you tried not to dwell on it. You smiled politely over at Zoe, who threw you a sympathetic look.

“You’re new, huh?” she asked shyly, cocking her head as she gazed at you.

“Mm hm, about a week.” You took another sip and pursed your lips, swallowing the liquid like a chore that had to be done.

“Ooh, a baby!” Marguerite interjected, suddenly interested in the conversation between you and Zoe. You imagined she was the social butterfly of the group. “Maybe Evie can show you a few tricks.”

At this, Leon rested his hand over your arm protectively, forcing a strained smile. “Perhaps another time? We really should get down to business.”

“Ah, city boys and their ‘business’,” Jack remarked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Well, what can we do for ya?”

You heard Leon speak, but his voice seemed to drone on with the others, and out of nowhere you started to enter a tunnel vision. In your line of sight, you spotted a framed photo of the Baker family, though something was amiss. There was a young man in the picture you hadn’t met yet. He was thin and lanky, and had a hoodie on that obscured part of his face. Leaning back on the couch, he stared directly back at you with a bored look in his hollowed eyes.

It took you a while, but you managed to snap out of it, uttering the first thought that came to your mind, “Is that your son, mister?”

All at once, the mood in the room shifted, taking a dramatic turn for the worse. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on you as Jack ordered ominously, “Get the hell out.”

You opened your mouth in protest, but Leon beat you to it, rising up from his seat as he contended, “Look, she didn’t mean anything by it. We’re sorry, alright? Could we just—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, boy!” Jack bellowed, his command resonating across the room.

Leon’s body grew rigid and he remained mute. Dread seeped into your bones as you observed the previous scene of peace and tranquility descend into an utter nightmare.

“Mama, Evie’s getting upset,” Zoe announced in a tiny voice.

“Argh! See what you’ve done now?” Marguerite shrieked as she stomped around the room in a temper tantrum. “This is your fault!” she accused, glaring at you and Leon.

“You barge into our house and threaten my family? This won’t do!” Jack shook his head menacingly as his eyes glowered. “I’m just gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

His eyes changed into an otherworldly shade and Marguerite joined him, speaking in tongues. They gazed at Leon as if engaged in a séance. However, Zoe remained separate from their antics, looking on in fright. You stood rooted to where you were, bracing for the worst, but nothing happened. It was only when you saw Leon sink to the ground on his knees, his face pale as a sheet, that you realized he was bearing the brunt of your transgression.

He was taken back to years ago, at the height of his blood bond, where he would do anything to win Ada’s affection. Her interest in him had begun to wane and he was sure she was seeing another lover. But this time, he would bring her the vessel that would change her mind about him and guarantee her everlasting love.

There he was, at that godforsaken group home, the one linked to the Catholic church he had frequented when he was still alive, and where he would sell his damned soul for a second time to the Devil. All it took was a flash of his police credentials and a charm or two from his arsenal of skills he had honed to entrance the nuns keeping watch over the children.

“Sherry, are you ready to go?” He extended a hand towards her. 

This wasn’t his first rodeo. Ada and him had been noticing the little girl for a while, testing to see if she would be a worthy vessel for the Prince himself. After all, Ventrues were extremely fussy drinkers and Wesker expected a Michelin star meal every single time. The only thing stopping him from delivering the girl over was a vague sense of morality he still had within him. But he was desperate enough now to dash it to the ground for a chance at his sire’s approval again.

The girl had dressed into her school uniform, a hairband holding her blond tresses out of her face as she peered up excitedly at him. “Yes, let’s go!”

She would have done anything to get away from the home where she never slept well and felt alone despite being in a room full of kids around her age. Where Leon was taking her sounded like a glorious fairytale. A palace with a prince, she imagined, a place where she would be treated to all the luxuries her current life could never afford her.

“Oh god, no!” he cried out, doubling over on the grimy floor of the Baker House. 

Sherry was haunting him again. Everywhere he looked, he saw multiple copies of her like a cracked mirror reflecting her ghost on its uneven surface. He heard layer upon layer of her laughter, jumbled and out of sync, mocking and taunting him. Paranoia sank in and he curled himself into a fetal position, pleading for no one in particular to forgive him.

“Sherry, please, we have to go!” he urged. 

This was years later, when he had some sense knocked into him from the time he hung out with the Anarchs. He wanted to right his wrongs, and free the girl who was never meant to be trapped in the underworld in the first place.

But she had changed. She was older and wiser, and knew exactly what she wanted — it was definitely not to leave.

Yanking her hand back, she kicked her feet, stamping on the ground as she yelled, “No! I want to stay!”

He was shocked by her absolute conviction in remaining within the prison where she was held, like a pretty songbird for the rest of the Kindred to gawk at. “But…”

“You can’t make me!” she screamed, red in the face.

Rendered speechless, he didn’t know what else to do than stare at the crying child before him with his jaw hanging open. He thought he was saving her, like a knight in shining armor, but she didn’t need any saving. She was perfectly happy where she was.

“One day, I’ll get you out of there. I promise,” he babbled on repeatedly, reduced to nothing but a trembling mess before the Malkavians.

During the entire period when Leon appeared to be suffering from a mental breakdown, you were torn about what to do. He had told you to bolt the minute something like this took place, but you couldn’t leave him to fend for himself in this state. You didn’t understand what he was blabbering on about. Was Sherry his sister? Where was she? What happened to her?

A million thoughts raced through your mind, but you shut them down. You needed to pry Leon away from the family’s cold clutches and keep him safe. Mustering your courage, you approached the one who seemed to be the most reasonable of the lot. She still sat in her chair, gazing upon the scene with a vacant yet troubled expression.

“Zoe?” you called out softly, hoping it wouldn’t escalate the situation. “Please, we don’t mean any harm.”

Her eyes darted towards you.

“I know you’re just trying to protect your family,” you deduced, especially from the way they had been on edge the moment you stepped onto their property and inadvertently brought up one of their own.

“We need the information, but I swear to you we will keep whoever it is you’re trying to protect safe,” you promised.

Her breath hitched, and she looked at you with glassy eyes. In the background, you could hear Leon’s gut-wrenching whines of pain.

“Zoe, please!” you begged, your brows furrowing and tears on the verge of spilling from your eyes. You couldn’t bear to witness him in such agony any longer. It felt like your heart was shattering into pieces, though you couldn’t explain why.

“Eveline, stop,” her calm voice sliced through the air and the buzzing energy died down. 

Her parents came out of their hypnotic state and Leon stopped shaking uncontrollably, though he backed himself into a corner in fear. You rushed to his side, holding him in your arms as you checked his eyes to see if he had fully returned to the present.

“You stayed…” he whispered, reaching out to touch your face, as though he was trying to ascertain if you were real.

In an instant, you pulled him into an embrace, rocking him gently as you stroked his hair. “You’re okay, Leon. You’re safe.”

After a while, he relaxed into your arms and his breathing returned to its normal tempo. The Bakers exchanged worried looks but said nothing as they gave him time to recover. Finally, Jack broke the silence. “I-I’m sorry about what happened there, son. Just been a lot going on these days.”

You turned around, deciding to take the reins as you spoke for the two of you, “I understand, and as I promised your daughter, we’ll make sure that, um—”

“Lucas,” Marguerite offered.

“—Lucas won’t get hurt.”

Jack nodded, taking off his glasses as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “You see, how we work is through what others call premonitions or clairvoyance, and all that mumbo-jumbo.” 

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Well, lately we’ve been sensing a bunch of Sabbat activity in the city. Their symbols are everywhere, like little red hotspots across the center. They’re planning more of these attacks for sure, just heading down along the river.”

“Circular River?” you probed.

“Uh huh, the one closest to town,” he concurred. “And, uh, I’m guessing you were also here about the Cobweb?”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed anxiously as Marguerite took over. “It don’t always speak to us, and sometimes it’s hard to make out what it says. But we heard somethin’ the other night.”

She paused, adjusting her hair restlessly before she divulged, “It was Lucas’ voice, carried like a wave by a thousand voices, saying his name is nobody. That stood out, but we don’t know why.”

Nobody said they were nobody…

You caught a flicker of recognition in Leon’s eyes as you recalled what the man had said during Jill’s interrogation. Was Lucas responsible for all of this?

“Where’s Lucas now?” Leon asked, his voice still a little unsteady.

“He don’t want to be found.” Jack shrugged dejectedly. “My boy’s always been a real firecracker. Left home one day and never came back. We think he’s with them — the Sabbat.”

“But he’s a good boy,” his wife insisted. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“We just want him to come home,” Zoe added. “Evie wants her big brother back.”

The joy and curse of familial bonds. You could get behind that.

“We won’t breathe a word about Lucas,” you pledged, overriding your sire’s authority as you answered on behalf of him as well. “Right, Leon?”

You could see the discomfort in his expression, though he grunted an affirmative reply.

As Jack showed you out of the house, you thanked him and his family for their assistance, though a final question came to your mind. “Can Dementation have long-lasting effects?”

“With the right choice of words, it can.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

To play it safe, you took over the driving on the way back as you and Leon discussed the information you had gleaned from the Bakers.

“You think Lucas is the one?” you asked as you stopped at a red light.

“No, I don’t think he worked alone,” he opined. “It took two of the Bakers to bring me to my knees.”

There was a momentary pause as he clenched his fist at the memory, exhaling another deep breath of air. “I know we are talking about manipulating a group of lesser vampires, but unless he’s a prodigy we’ve never discovered, there were most likely others involved at the same time.”

“Makes sense,” you agreed, easing off on the brake pedal to switch over to the accelerator as the lights went green again.

“You still want to protect the guy, even after what he did?”

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, causing your knuckles to turn white. A promise was a promise, and there was more than enough bloodshed these nights.

“Yes,” you forced the answer out through gritted teeth. “Got a problem with that?”

“I admire you,” he murmured, dispelling your misgivings. “Your compassion.”

You felt your anger dissolve as you followed up with a suggestion. “It’s never too late, you know?”

He gave you a weak smile but remained silent for the ride home.

Back at his apartment, you noticed that he still seemed shaken by the night's events as he kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch, gazing blankly into space. Was he going to doze off in that position? You had already changed into a loose muslin nightdress and gone through the usual bedtime preparations.

Strolling over, you sat down beside him, trying to strike up a conversation. “They spooked you real bad, huh?”

He didn’t laugh at your joke, though he acknowledged it. “You can say that again.”

This wasn’t like him at all. You grabbed his shoulder in concern. “Hey, you don't seem okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” he sighed, looking away from you to his lap. “And… thank you for back there.”

“I would never abandon you like that,” you stressed, even if you hadn’t forgiven him for turning you… yet. 

He glanced at you with his watery blue eyes in appreciation, but you could tell that his mind was in a distant place elsewhere. Even though he tried to hide it, you saw his hands quivering, and you hoped that what the Bakers had done wasn’t permanent. You knew he was trying to put on a brave front, but a part of you felt uneasy about leaving him on his own.

“Um, why don’t you sleep next to me today?” you offered hesitantly.

He peered at you quizzically. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just get dressed, alright?” You made your way up the stairs and waited for him by the bed before he could argue any further.

He joined you later, clad in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, keeping a respectable distance as he lay beside you. There was a nervous energy to him.

You drew nearer, caressing his arm tenderly. “We don’t have to talk about whatever you saw in there,” you affirmed. “I’m here if you need me.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear as a stray tear fell onto his face. Wrapping your arms around him, you closed the gap, breathing in his scent as you felt his hands along your waist. It seemed as if an eternity had passed before you released each other. His nose nudged against yours as his warm breath grazed your cheek. When his gaze lowered to your lips, you didn’t have to think or doubt what would come next. 

Leaning in, he placed his soft lips over your own, kissing you intimately as he savored your taste in his mouth. Instinctively, you kissed back, running your fingers through his messy locks as your tongue licked across the seam of his lips. A low moan escaped his throat as he pressed up against you, claiming your lips again and again. It was the last thing you remembered as daysleep enveloped you like a cocoon, lulling you into a temporary hibernation.

[ao3-rex1223]

I NEED MORE OF THIS LIPGLOSS PLEASE THANKS!

Little Whispers

Prince!Chris Redfield x Lady-In-Waiting!reader (one shot)

Takes place in the Fairy Tale AU, A Dozen Roses

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, power dynamics, flirting, kissing, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️

“Brother, am I to believe you did not come away with a bride?”

You hide your smile, helping your lady pin her long fiery hair into place. Prince Redfield snorts and crosses his arms. 

“You are correct, dear sister,” he glares at her through her looking glass, brown eyes locking onto her blue ones, “she seemed to be spoken for.”

“By whom?”

He shifts uneasily, dropping his hands as he runs one through his messy brown hair. 

“I cannot say only that it seemed to be more of a social call,” he answers cagily.

His gaze flickers around the room until he meets yours, making you quickly drop your eyes back down to the Princess. 

“Did you hire yourself a new lass?” He asks humorously. 

“If you must know, Lord Burnside sent her from his estate,” Princess Claire huffs out, letting you place the last pin in her hair before standing up, “she is to stay with me and be my lady-in-waiting.”

Prince Chris nods, “Welcome to our home.”

You curtsy and bow your head, “Thank you, my lord.”

When you stand up straight, his brown eyes are staring at you, lips lifted in a grin. Attention shifting to his sister, he offers her a lazy salute. 

“I shall see you at dinner later. I’m taking the dogs out hunting,” he turns back to you, sending you a wink, “my lady.”

As he slips out the door, the Princess rolls her eyes. 

“Pay him no mind, he’s but an oaf,” she brushes her skirts down, “now, let us join the other ladies.”

After an extremely long, and quite boring, social call with the other ladies in the castle, the kitchen boy enters to announce supper is ready. Falling in step behind your mistress, you follow her into the grand dining hall where other lords and ladies have gathered. 

“Chris told me he asked these cretins to leave,” she whispers to you angrily, “they only sup at our table to try and garner his attention.”

You hum and nod, “Maybe he wishes to keep an eye on them, my lady?”

She frowns and lets you help her into her seat near the head of the table, catching the Prince’s attention. 

“And what gossip are you two lasses whispering about?” His brown eyes shift between you two, a smile playing across his lips. 

“Just that you have poor taste in company,” the Princess sniffs haughtily, “how goes the hunt?”

Prince Redfield laughs, voice loud and boisterous, “If not for my company, you would not have a little lord of your own would you, dear sister?”

His amusement turns to you, “What say you, lady?”

“It is not my place to judge, my lord,” you bow, stepping back from Princess Claire’s seat to stand with the other servants. 

“Aye, tis good you know your place,” he chuckles a little lower and it makes your body feel warm. 

As they dig into the feast before them, you sneak glances of the Prince. He’s tall and broad, his dark hair and brown eyes striking with his bearded face. A small scar cuts across his eyebrow, but it only enhances his looks. He catches you staring once and grins rakishly making you drops your eyes, shyness creating a warmth in your body. 

After dinner is finished, various manservants move the tables out of the way for that evening’s entertainment. The Prince and Princess welcome the band of musicians and dancers, sitting atop their thrones to oversee all. Being beckoned by your lady, she sends you off to prepare her rooms with the other maids so you may learn the routine. 

Once her chambers have been made ready, you bid the others goodnight and walk along the corridor to wait upon the Princess once more. A large shadow moves away from an alcove and you gasp, clutching the neck of your gown. 

“Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Prince Chris steps further into the light given from the sconces on the wall. 

“Apologies, Prince,” you quickly curtsy, “I am not used to the castle just yet.”

“How does it fair to Lord Burnside’s?” He steps closer, slowly corralling you into another alcove— unseen from prying eyes. 

“Oh it is much more impressive, my lord,” you smile, “such an honor to be here and serve his beloved Princess.”

“An honor?”

He hums and draws closer to you until you step away to keep some distance only for your back to press against cold stone.  Heat pools low in your stomach, knowing exactly what kind of intimate position this places you in with the Prince. 

“Is it an honor to serve me? Tis my castle you live in now,” he murmurs, hand brushing across your cheek to trace your jaw and down your neck. 

“O-of course, my lord.”

Shivering, you wet your lips, hands falling to your side. You won’t deny that you have thought the Prince a handsome man from the times he and his sister have visited Lord Burnside. You never dreamt you would catch his eye in such a way; it’s thrilling and illicit, arousal pulsing through your body. 

He braces a forearm against the wall next to your head, his other hand gripping your waist before trailing down your hip. Gasp hitching in your chest, your eyes flutter as he pets down your gown and begins to pull it up your legs. With a warm hum, he slips a hand under your skirts to cup your leaking sex. 

“Such a wet mess betwixt your legs, my pretty lass,” he coos in your ear, thick fingers petting across your clit before spreading your lips to tease against your dripping hole, “are you going to let your lord have a taste?”

“Whatever you wish,” you whimper, nipples tightening as he laughs and kneels down at your feet.

“Lift these skirts,” he directs, hands sliding up your calves to grip your thighs. 

A soft gasp falls from your mouth as you grab the bottom of your gown and drag it up, baring your lower body to Prince Redfield. With a wicked grin, he kisses your mound. 

“Think I’ll eat this fat cunt,” he noses at your clit, tongue parting your lips, “don’t be too loud.”

With those words ringing in your ears, the Prince laps at your hole, tongue spearing into your cunt with eagerness. Your fingers grip your skirts so tightly your knuckles hurt. Biting your lip, you keen in your throat as the Prince grinds his face up into your wet heat. His beard scratches at your sensitive skin and increases the pleasure to the point of pain. 

“Oh,” a soft whispering moan escapes your mouth when Prince Redfield flattens his tongue and drags it up to your swollen bundle of nerves. 

His tongue flutters wildly, lapping at your pudgy bud until your hips rock into his mouth. With a low chuckle, he slips his middle and ring finger into your leaking hole. 

“Such a dirty whore,” he pulls back and spits on your cunt, “letting me ruin you like this. What would your mistress think?”

Whimpering, you clench your eyes shut, trying to hold back any noise. Your body burns hot like an ember as the Prince laughs and goes back to licking and kissing your dripping cunt. Pleasure overrides your senses, the only thing you’re aware of is the mouth latched to the apex of your thighs; of the stillness in the empty corridor of the castle; of the utter mess leaking down your legs and dripping onto the stone floor. 

The Prince pulls away, his brown eyes nearly black in the torchlight, “Shall I use my cock so that we both feel good?”

“We shouldn’t,” you whimper while he stands up to his full height, hands undoing the lacing on his trousers. 

He pulls his stiff cock free and your lips part with a sigh. He’s thick and long, swollen tip dripping with seed as he strokes the length. With a low laugh, he presses you against the wall harder, hand gripping the base of his cock and dragging it against your soft folds. 

Whimpering softly, you cover your mouth while he taps the head against your swollen bundle before parting your cunt to dip into your hole.

“Shall I take you as a husband takes a wife?” He rumbles, dragging his cock back up to rub and bump against your clit, “shall I fill you with my royal seed til you’re dripping and staining the floor?”

You know you should say no, should beg his forgiveness and deny him any claim to your body. But you’ve only had a few fumbles in the hay with men no more knowledgeable than boys. Price Redfield is offering you a chance to experience something you’ve only dreamt about. 

Nodding, you dare not move your hands away from your mouth. He smiles crookedly and notches his cock at your entrance. 

“Good girl,” he whispers as he slowly presses inside your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back as he presses deeper and deeper inside your body, cunt sucking him in eagerly, inner walls fluttering and pulsing around his thick cock. 

“Greedy girl,” he rasps against your ear once he bottoms out, balls lightly smacking against your skin. 

He pulls out halfway before sinking back in to the hilt, your chest heaving in silence. 

“How does it feel?” He drops one hand away from the wall to ghost across your swollen bud, “how does a Prince’s cock feel in your fat cunt?” 

You gasp weakly, hands falling away from your mouth to scratch at his broad shoulders. He chuckles and dips down to kiss you, beard rough against your cheeks as his tongue delves into your mouth much how he ate your cunt earlier. 

He pulls away with a wet kiss, “Answer me, lass.”

Your mind feels like an empty pool of pleasure, body singing with it as he thrusts his cock into your squelching hole. 

“It feels good, my lord,” you mewl quietly, eyes fluttering as he rubs your clit in slow circles, “it feels so good.”

He groans and grasps your thighs, dragging your back up the wall and hoisting you higher. His next thrust makes you cry out shamelessly as his cock fills you completely, hole stretching to take all of him at a new angle. 

“That’s it, pretty maid,” he grunts in your ear, “scream for me. Let everyone know the Prince is fucking your soft wet cunt where anyone can see.”

Your blood feels like it’s on fire, the pressure and pleasure builds in your core until you teeter over an edge you’ve only heard whispers of between the other maids. 

“Aye,” he laughs, brown eyes crinkling with warmth, “you’ll gift me with your sweet slick as I in turn give you my seed.”

You gasp and he bites your bottom lip. 

He whispers against your mouth, “Let me ruin you, my pretty lass.”

His fingers thrum across your swollen bud at the same time he bottoms out inside your cunt and it snaps the tension coiled inside your body.  With another low cry, your nails dig into his shoulders as your cunt bears down on his cock, inner walls milking him for his royal seed. He groans, hips flexing as he grips you tightly, thrusting hard and fast to chase his own end. 

Leaning forward, he sinks his teeth into the skin where your neck and shoulder meet as he pumps your cunt full of his spend. You moan weakly, feeling the sticky heat of his cum breeding your hole until it spills out to drip down your thighs. He pulls away with a grunt, more of his spend spattering onto the floor as your used cunt throbs. 

“Your mistress will not miss you for one night,” his blown out gaze slowly moves from your swollen cunt up to your hazy eyes, “shall I show you my quarters?”

With your nod, he gently places you back down onto your feet and drops your gown to cover the mess he made of your cunt. He presses a quick kiss to your temple and grasps your wrist. 

“Then follow me, my pretty lass.”