Mission Accomplished

Sacrifice

Chris Redfield x Sherry Birkin fic

Summary: Chris and Sherry were on their way through the Rocky Mountains to meet up with Leon for an upcoming mission, but when they stop for the night at a quaint inn, Chris disappears in the middle of the night. The leaves Sherry to find him and rescue him from whatever may have happened to him. All the while trying to figure out how to tell him how she feels about him.

Warnings: kidnapping, cults, human sacrifice, bad puns, violence, blood.

For @lyndibs

Chris always insisted on driving. It was his one thing he did that he wouldn't let anyone else do. She figured it was a Chris thing. Kind of like how she was always had her eggs sunny side up.

In this instance she didn't mind too much. It was the middle of the night and they'd been driving for three hours already after a 12 hour plane ride from Paris. It hadn't been as romantic as it seemed at first, chasing B.O.W.s rarely is. There had been a few moments that she was sure Chris was picking up on her feelings or even reciprocating them.

But they all ended up being about something else. Like when he grabbed her hand and ran with her down the street, it wasn't because he didn't want to lose her, she had fallen behind and was nearly crushed by a flying car thrown by a tyrant. Or when he pressed them against a wall and they were so close they could feel each other's heart beat. His lips had been right there, a small push up to her toes and they would have connected. It was because they were being followed and were giving the stalker the slip.

It seemed every time she got her hopes up, they were quickly dashed away by work.

Who knew B.O.W.s could be such cock-blocks.

"Hey, I'm pulling over here for the night," Chris said, pulling Sherry from her dozing. Opening her eyes, she take a deep breath and stretched in her seat as Chris pulled into a small inn that had a 24 hour light on as well as a Vacancy sign up.

"Alright. I'll message Leon to let him know we're stopping for the night," Sherry said as she worked her head side to side to loosen her muscles up a bit. She pulled out her phone to send the other agent a message that they were stopping for a bit and would be there in the morning. In true Leon fashion he sent back a thumbs up emoji.

Sliding from the SUV, Sherry saw Chris already had their over night bags and was walking towards the office door. Jogging ahead, she grabbed the door for him, getting a nod of thanks.

"Oh, hello!" The pair were greeted by a small, older lady that had long gray hair tied back into a bun on top of her head and big, round glasses perched on her nose. "I was wondering if we'd have guests this evening. How are you two, dearies?"

"Tired," Chris said, giving her a small smile. The man of few words wasn't without respect and courtesy, especially with a grandmother aged woman. "We'd like a room for the night please. We'll be leaving in the morning."

"Okie dokie," the woman said, shuffling over to a large, leather bound book. Sherry was sure the book was bigger than the woman, but the elderly lady was able to open it with a bit of grunting. "Alright, would you like a king or a queen bed? Our Honeymoon suite is available as well if you'd like to show off for your lady friend," she said, looking at Chris expectantly.

Maybe this was it. They had never shared a bed together, so maybe Sherry could get the courage to say something with them curled up against one another. Chris was large, but he could be so gentle and she was sure he would be an amazing snuggler.

"Two doubles actually, please" Chris said, shattering Sherry's fantasy of them sharing a bed.

Damn it.

"Two doubles it is. Ah yes. Here we go. Room 12. It's just up the stairs and to the left," the woman said as she marked down room 12 as occupied. Turning to look at the wall of keys, she picked out the room key to hand to Chris. "There you go. We ask that you pay in advance in case someone isn't here for check out. It is $100 for the night." Chris pulled out his wallet to pay her, giving the woman a crisp bill. "Thank you. If someone isn't here for when you're checking out, please drop the key in box by the stairs."

"Will do, thank you for you help," Sherry said as Chris picked up the bags again then lead the way up the stairs.

"Have a good night, you two. Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bugs bite!" The woman called after them as they walked up the stairs.

"You really didn't want to share the honeymoon suite with me?" Sherry asked, meaning to tease but also to feel Chris out a bit.

"Honeymoon suites are usually cheaply made and are least likely to be cleaned properly. I'd rather take my chances with a double," Chris said.

"Then why not a king or queen?" She asked as they walked down the hall towards their room.

"Because I know you're a cover hog and kick in your sleep," he said with a soft snort.

"True. She was really nice about trying to up sale us at least. I mean usually they try to add in all the bells and whistles and it gets aggressive. She seemed like a really sweet person," Sherry said.

"Just because someone's older, doesn't mean they're a good person," Chris said as he set down a bag to open their door.

"Well, I think she was adorable," Sherry said, closing and locking the door behind them.

"I'm gonna take a shower then head to bed. I suggest doing the same. We've got another four hours of driving tomorrow," Chris said as he opened his bag to pull clothes out.

"Tell me again why we couldn't get a flight to Colorado directly?" Sherry asked with a soft sigh as she pulled out her sleep clothes.

"Budget cuts," Chris said, giving her a small, playful smirk.

"Of course. Isn't that always the case?" She said with a giggle.

Chris nodded before he turned to head to the bathroom. Once the door was closed and the shower going, Sherry changed her clothes. She had grabbed a shower at the hotel they had been out when they first landed while Chris had been in meetings nonstop.

Changed into a tee shirt and sleep shorts, she was bent over and touching her toes when Chris walked out in just a towel. Standing up straight, she missed his faltering step as his eyes had gone right to her ass.

"Forgot my shorts," he mumbled, digging in his bag again.

"You're good," she said, working her shoulders a bit as a strange scent began to fill the room. It wasn't Chris' soaps. Those weren't that strong. "Hey, what's that smell?" She said, catching Chris's attention before he shut the bathroom door. It took a second before it really hit her, making her vision swim as she stumbled towards her bed, trying to grab something to steady her.

"Sherry!" Chris cried out as he tried to get to her, but he was over taken by the sweet smell too. He got to the side of her bed before falling to the floor with a groan.

"Chris," Sherry mumbled as she fell to the floor as well, everything going black.

When Sherry woke up, her head was throbbing and she didn't know what was happening. Rolling to her back, she slowly sat up. Still in their room, Sherry looked around before realizing she was alone.

"Chris!?" She cried, scrambling up despite the headache she had. He was no where to be found. Their things were still there, but no Chris. All that was left was the towel he'd been wearing, so where could he have gone? Changing into more appropriate clothes, she found that their guns were gone as well as their knives, but they always had back ups. Digging in her bag, she pulled the zipper on the secret compartment to get to her guns, hip holsters, and knife before digging in Chris' bag for his guns and shoulder holsters to put them all on.

If Chris was gone, but the towel was still there then he'd probably need some clothes and shoes. Grabbing his bag, she extended the strap to sling the bag over her head and shoulder. Now she just had to find Chris. Her bag was useless so she left it behind as she walked out the door to creep downstairs. The old lady was still there, humming to herself as she puttered around small area behind the check in counter.

Chris had been right, just because someone was a cute, old person didn't mean they were good.

Gun drawn, she went down the stairs as the woman had her back to her.

"Turn around!" She snapped. The older woman turned around to see Sherry with a gun aimed at her head. "Where is Chris? The man that was with me, where is he?"

"Oh that Dennis," the woman frowned, grumbling like some kid had been naughty and didn't have a gun pointed at her. "I told him to take care of you, but my son said the gas would keep you knocked out longer."

"Listen lady, where's my partner!" Sherry snapped, not wanting to let her guard down.

"He's already dead, don't get your panties in a wad," the woman said with a sigh, waving her off.

"Dead? What are you talking about?" Sherry asked, refusing to believe Chris was dead. If the hoards of the undead couldn't wipe out Chris Redfield, some old lady and her son certainly couldn't.

"He was perfect for the sacrifice," the woman said. "You know, usually we get those hipsters that are so lean and gamy, but your friend was perfect for our Lord's first meal on Earth."

"Enough talking, where is Chris?" Sherry demanded, cocking her gun.

"Dennis! See, I told you that you can't lolly gag around," the woman said, looking just past Sherry.

Spinning on her heel, Sherry saw a large behemoth of a man. He was big, bigger than Chris even. His eyes were hidden behind a mess of black, stringy hair that hung around his head in a curtain as he stomped towards her with clenched fists that looked like they could be used as sledge hammers.

"Damn it," she hissed, not hesitating to fire on him. Six rounds had him stumbling to the ground as he screamed in pain.

"Dennis! My baby!" The woman cried as she launched herself over the counter at Sherry. "I'll rip your pretty, blue eyes out!" She shrieked. The woman didn't get far though as Sherry wasn't a damsel in distress and knew how to fight just as well as Chris.

"I don't think so," Sherry grunted, kicking the woman away. She was quick to get on her, pinning her down with her knee. "Where's Chris!?"

"It's too late. Our Lord Aries is on his way and soon the Earth will be cast into his red dawn and blood will rain-" Sherry pistol whipped the babbling woman, knocking her out.

"Why do they always have to talk too much?" She sighed as she stood up. Going to the counter, she moved behind it to try and see if there were any clues there. Sure enough, a squeaky, loose board could be pulled up. Under it was a button and when Sherry pushed it, the back wall with the keys slid to the side to reveal a secret staircase.

Time was running out and she couldn't risk second guessing. So Sherry kept her gun at the ready as she ran down the stairs.

There were four sets of stairs to go down and she wondered what the hell she would find at the bottom. Her question was answered when she got to the last step to found an open door way. She could hear people chanting in the next room as she crept closer to peek around the corner.

Looking into the stone room with dark archways on either side, there were at least 15 people that she could count, all dressed in dark red robes. Chris was at the front of the room, tied and gagged while nude to a pillar with wood surrounding it.

Were they going to burn him alive!? There wasn't any time to guess their end game as she heard screaming coming from above her. It was now or never.

"Hey assholes!" She cried, rushing in with her guns pulled. "That's my partner you're about to barbeque and I'm the only one allowed to roast him!"

The people turned to see her, pulling up their own weapons of staffs and large knives, but that didn't matter. Sherry was a crack shot and even running, she was able to shoot most of them if they stayed to fight or came at her. A few tried to surprise attack her, but she was not having it.

The annoyance at herself for not saying anything to Chris about them when she had the chance as well as him skipping out on them getting a king sized bed together, combined with the fact the first time she saw him naked was right then when he was trussed up like some Faye Ray wannabe ready for the rescue, it was all pissing her off. Which made it all the more satisfying to slam her fist into some idiot's face to knock him on his ass.

Once they were all lying on the floor, groaning or bleeding or dead, she hopped up through the gasoline soaked wood to Chris.

Oh, he was very naked and try as she might, she couldn't help but have seen him. 'Good luck trying not to think of that later,' she thought to herself.

"Usually you're the one pulling me out of harms way," she said, pulling her knife to cut him free. "Also brought you presents." Keeping her eyes averted, she held out the bag of clothes for him.

"Thanks, Sherry," Chris said, grunting as he took the bag then quickly dressed. "You're a life saver."

"Don't mention it," she chirped. As he pulled on his shoulder holsters and checked his gun, he looked to her.

"Look, Sherry, uh about the bed thing-"

"You bitch!"

The two of them looked towards the door to see the elderly woman standing there with a rifle.

"You ruined everything! Everything! I will do it myself!" She screamed as she raised the gun and fired it at Chris.

"Chris, no!" Sherry cried, jumping in front of him to take the bullet to her back.

"Sherry!" Chris cried out as he caught her. He pulled her gun from her hand to shoot the older woman. She tried to fire first, but Chris was faster, sending a bullet between her eyes. "Sherry, talk to me, come on," he said, laying her down on her belly as blood soaked her shirt in the back.

"It's okay," Sherry wheezed as Chris began to panic. His hands were pressing to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "Don't worry about me."

"Not happening. I'm always going to worry about you," he said, pulling his jacket off to help soak up blood. "We're gonna get out of here. I promise."

"Chris, stop. It doesn't matter," Sherry said, trying to reach for his hand.

"No, it does matter," Chris said, grabbing her hand with his bloody one in a tight grip. "You matter, Sher. Please, just hold on, okay?"

"You gotta let go of me, Chris," Sherry said, trying to take a deep a deep breath under the pressure of Chris pushing on her.

"I'm not letting you go! I can't! I won't!" He cried, refusing to let up. "Please, I can't lose you."

"Chris. . ." Sherry said softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said, kissing her hand. "I love you and I should have said it before now and acted like it."

"I love you, but you have to stop pressing on my back. I can't breathe," she said with a groan.

"What?" He said, frowning.

"Chris, I can heal myself, remember?" Sherry said, looking up at him as he stared down at her. "I'm fine, but you're squeezing the air out of me."

How the hell did he forget that?

"Oh, uh, sorry," he said, letting go of her. As he did, the bullet sat in the small of her back like it hadn't been inside her at all. "Well, uh. . ."

"I meant it," Sherry said as she pushed herself up to her knees in front of him. "What I said."

"Yeah?" Chris said, smiling softly. "I meant it too."

"Good, because otherwise this would have been awkward."

Sherry leaned in to kiss him, resting her hands on his chest. It wasn't hard or needy, but it was perfect for them. His lips were rough, needing balm as he pressed back against her fuller ones, cupping her face to return the affection.

"Let's get out of here and go to a Holiday Inn. I'm pretty sure there's no cults in those," Chris said after pulling away.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need a shower," Sherry said, making a face down at herself.

"I'll help if you want me to," he said, raising a brow.

"I'm sure you would," she said with a snort.

Written for @tarlos-spain, part of @tarlos-santa, beta-read by @meloingly

Title: The Gold Dragon  Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star Pairing: Tarlos Chapters/Length: 1/1 I 2064 words Rating/Tags: G.  Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bit of canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff, Tarlos Secret Santa Exchange (9-1-1 Lone Star) Summary:  Carlos was told, when he was a child, that everyone has got a soulmate. From the small marks of a rainbow and a unicorn with a green horn on his right arm and left leg, he was told it would be a unique one, too. His dad, Gabriel, told him that unicorns are unique and rare creatures, and he did hope that Carlos would find his soulmate.

WOODSMOKE & LEATHER

pairing: albert wesker x transmasc!reader warnings: 18+ only (mdni), smut, gender dysphoria, slight violence, bathroom sex, p in v (unprotected), creampie, semi-public sex, house parties, alcohol, marijuana, wesker is his own tw, implied slight chris x reader also word count: 5.3k (oh boy) notes: requested by @angelrawrcyan: "S.T.A.R.S Wesker won't leave my mind lately, can I request for some Wesker x transmasc reader?" as always, rbs appreciated <3

[- ao3 link -] | [- masterlist -] | [- playlist -]

summary: your roommate chris throws a house party, at which many of his coworkers in S.T.A.R.S. are in attendance. including his boss, captain wesker.

The bass thrummed deeply, permeating your body so entirely that you could feel it in your chest, rattling your bones and piercing through your ear drums. It didn't matter how many times you sneakily turned the volume dial down on the stereo, somehow it always ended up cranked up even louder.

You stumbled over discarded plastic cups as you wove your way through the party guests in the direction of your kitchen. The apartment was barely big enough for you and your roommate, let alone… however many people he had ended up inviting to his house party. You lost count when more and more people streamed in as the night progressed. 

The door to the kitchen was blocked off by a couple you'd never seen before with their tongues firmly exploring each other's throats. Your buzz was fading fast. You needed another drink if you were to continue dealing with the music and the yelling and all these fucking people. 

You rolled your eyes. Anxiety wasn't going to permit you to ask the couple to move - not that they would even if you asked - so you had to take the road less travelled. Hitching your weight up onto the breakfast bar, you vaulted over it with care not to knock over the assembled alcohol bottles on the counter. You landed, feet planted on the kitchen tile, impressed with yourself but not resting on your laurels. Especially as you weren't alone in the kitchen.

Your roommate stood with his back to you, refilling a mixing bowl with corn chips. At least in here the music wasn't so loud that you had to yell to be heard. 

"Hey, Chris," you nodded to him, placing your empty cup on the counter. "What was the pitch you gave me for this party? How many people did you say? Ten max, right?"

"C'mon, dude. People invite people who invite more people. I can't control that." Chris held his palms up as if to absolve himself of any guilt in the matter.

You sighed and pressed your back against the kitchen sink, staring out across the living room from your side of the bar. Chris, cradling the bowl of chips like a newborn baby, joined you in your observations. Your party-girl neighbours giggled together, dancing drunkenly to the music. Some of your old college friends huddled in intense conversation, no doubt about their latest D&D campaign. The door to the hallway was cracked, where you could just hear the delightful sounds of someone throwing up over the pounding music. Your ex boyfriend, easily the person you were least excited to see, was getting far too into a football game on your CRT television. You still don't know why Chris invited him. Something about 'closure'. 

"Yeah, well what about your work buddies?"

You leaned your elbows on the bar and gestured with a tilt of your chin in the direction of the dining table, where a group was gathered separate from the rest. You remembered some of their names - Jill, Brad, Forest, Joseph-something - on the rare occasions you'd run into them before. Brad seemed to have brought a dartboard of some sort that Chris had helped him mount on the wall. They were taking turns in a darts competition that was ramping up in intensity. Chris had a good relationship with his co-workers, and you'd be lying if it said it didn't make you a little jealous sometimes. You were more of a solitary person. Chris was one of the few people you could count among your close friends, so you couldn't help the little part of your brain that was bitter that he was so popular.

"What about 'em?"

"... Like, they're cops. At a house party."

"I'm also a cop at a house party."

"Yeah, your own."

Chris put the bowl of chips down and grabbed your shoulders, dropping his voice slightly. "Listen, as long as you hid the weed where we agreed, there won't be an issue."

Laughing, you shake your head. The elite tactical service, S.T.A.R.S., arresting one of their own & his dropout roommate for smoking the devil's lettuce in their downtime was hard to believe.

"A little below you guys's paygrade." 

"Exactly. So relax. It's fine."

You turned your head from him to scan the living room once more. 

"And what about that guy?"

Chris followed your gaze to the blonde man, quietly observing the room from a corner and sipping from a glass tumbler of whisky - a stark contrast from the stereotypical red solo cups scattered amid the other party guests. At least, you guessed he was looking around - it was hard to tell by the dark sunglasses obscuring his eyes. A strange sight in any indoor setting, but especially when it was approaching midnight.

"Oh, that's-"

A realisation struck you as you unintentionally cut Chris off. "Oh shit, that's your boss! The sunglasses guy, right?"

You lowered your voice, trying not to make it obvious that you were looking at him. But once your gaze had locked onto the man, it was hard to turn your eyes away. He had a strange magnetism to him. It felt like all the chaos, the pounding music, the laughing, the shouting, the throngs of people crammed into your shitty two-bedroom Raccoon City apartment - all of it faded into static, unimportant background noise. 

You just managed to parse out Chris's voice through your trance.

"Yeah, that's Wesker. Captain Wesker. I was talking about the party in the break room at work the other day and he came in - felt rude to not invite him. Didn't honestly expect for him to show up."

Another guest, one of your pretty neighbours, crossed the room and started to engage him in conversation. Wesker tilted his head to listen to her, engaging instantly with her words. A smile rendered his handsome features even more striking. While the sunglasses looked stupid and out of place at first, you found it only added to his allure. He had such charisma about him, an unmistakable charm. The girl's fingers brushed along his forearm, bare and strong where he'd rolled up the sleeves of his blue silk shirt. Your jaw set and you glanced back at Chris, who you just registered was still talking.

"We don't really know what the deal is with the sunglasses. Barry thinks it could be a visual impairment thing but, it's not like we can ask, y'know?"

"Maybe he just thinks they look cool," you offered, trying to disguise the creeping disappointment you felt as Wesker tucked a strand of your neighbour's hair behind her ear.

You smoothed your hand over your t-shirt, a crisp white polo shirt you thought was dressed-up enough for the party. It wasn't your usual hoodie that you practically lived in, which was something. You felt your binder beneath, digging into the skin of your armpits. The compression on your ribs was starting to get hard to ignore. Probably had worn it far too long today. It was easy to lose track.

Chris noticed your motion and raised his eyebrows. Sometimes, he knows you too well - frustratingly so.

"Listen," he said softly, "If you wanna like, go to your room and call it a night. Just go, like, I won't be offended. How long have you been wearing it today?"

"Too fucking long," you admitted, "but no, I'll stick around a bit longer. Thanks, though."

And so, you did. Minutes stumbled into hours as you mingled with guests at Chris's request, while also getting to know some of his coworkers. You avoided even glancing at your ex as much as possible. Instead, you focused on Captain Wesker. He seemed to gravitate between social groups with flowing ease; able to find common ground with just about everyone. His presence was all-encompassing and, despite not being loud or ostentatious in any way, he seemed to be the soul of the party. Everybody wanted to talk to him, to flirt with him. And he talked to all of them, engaged them, with a comfort and fluidity you could only dream of having in social situations. It was fascinating to watch. There was, of course, the fact that he was incredibly handsome too; and every time he cracked a smile you wished it was you he was smiling at. 

But, like always, you faded into the background. You made an effort to stay as far away from the source of the pulsing music, oppressive in its cacophony. Pressing your back to the wall as you drained the dregs of your drink, you felt the liquid burn on its way down your throat. Your bound chest protested once more. Perhaps it was time to call it a night-

"Good evening." 

You nearly dropped your cup. Wesker seemed to appear out of nowhere, his graceful stride imperceptible until he was right next to you. This close, you picked up the scent of his cologne: a woody, somewhat smoky scent with undertones of vanilla and leather. Weirdly, his voice seemed to match his scent. Smooth, well-spoken with a delectable curl of an accent. You looked up at him, seeing the vague outline of his eyes from behind the shades.

"Oh, hi. Fuck, you kinda startled me."

The blurred edges of your vision crept closer in, and you blinked to maintain focus on his face. Perhaps you had over-indulged on the alcohol. 

"Apologies. I'll be sure to announce my approach further in advance next time." He smiled.

"Captain Wesker, right?"

You already knew the answer, of course.

Wesker nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey. Where did he even get that glass from? "And you're Redfield's boyfriend." 

He said your name then, drawing it out like a taste he wanted to savour.

"Boyfriend?" You couldn't suppress the laugh that forced its way past your lips,

"No, no. It's not like that. We're not, like, romantic partners. Partners in rental agreement, maybe."

"Ah. I'm sorry, I assumed…" Wesker waved a hand in the air to indicate the rest of the sentence, one that didn't need to be said.

"No, it's fine. Chris is a friend. One of the best. But that's it."

You would be lying if you said you hadn't considered it. But boundaries had been laid many years ago, a line that you respected Chris too much to even attempt to cross. 

"My taste in men is more like. Well, him," you added. "Up until recently."

You sighed as you reluctantly gestured to where your ex was standing on the couch cushions, making some sort of grandiose speech to onlookers that you mercifully couldn't hear over the music. He had a captive audience of drunk party guests with which to regale with his TEDTalk-adjacent ramblings. Wesker observed, lifting his glass to his lips with a sardonic quirk of an eyebrow - he clearly had thoughts but chose not to vocalise them. 

"Don't judge," you grumbled.

"Not even a little bit?" 

You shot Wesker with a withering look. He hid his smile around the rim of his whiskey tumbler, peering at you from behind the dark veil of his shades. 

A commotion behind you caused you to turn your head as, from the bathroom along the hall, a group of hollering men you’re sure neither you or Chris had met before stumbled out. With them billowed the unmistakable earthy, herbal aroma of marijuana. One of them held a glass of red wine, far overfilled, which sloshed dangerously.

You should have expected what happened next. As the men swayed past you and Wesker, the wine tipped over the rim of the glass as they nudged into you. A cascade of sticky, red liquid tumbled, seemingly in slow motion, all over your face, neck, chest and irreparably staining the one white shirt you owned. You yelped in horror, desperately trying in vain to wipe yourself clean and cover your chest, where the dampness was soaking through the shirt fabric and revealing your binder underneath. 

“Hey, what the fuck?!” You snapped, tears pricking at your eyes as your forearms formed an X-motion over your chest. Trying to put out a tough-guy persona proved difficult when you were on the verge of crying.

The man scoffed, set to simply walk away. He leaned back to face you, not even turning his head fully. “Hey, chill the fuck out, yeah?”

His hand shot out to shove you away from him, a hostile gesture meant to provoke a confrontation. Which it would have done, were it not for Wesker’s hand clamping around his wrist with a swiftness and finality that neither you nor your aggressor were expecting. Your eyes flicked over the subtle flex of his forearm muscle, the exposed skin sporting a defined line along his dorsal where he applied his strength to keep your attacker at bay.

With a tilt of his head, Wesker regarded the man calmly, undeterred by the miasma of cannabis and alcohol that he carried with him. Still, he held the man’s wrist tight, holding his arm in a suspended position, knuckles going white.

“I’d think very carefully about your next move, my friend,” Wesker uttered, a hint of danger lurking in the space between syllables.

You were suspended in disbelief for a long moment, before you found your senses again. Your legs moved of their own accord, propelling you to the bathroom and to perceived safety. Slamming the door behind you, you pressed your back to it as your fingers found the lock and turned it decisively. The weed smell was cloying in here. Combined with the peppery and overpowering wine you reeked of, you wanted nothing more than to sponge yourself clean. You stepped to the sink. Weakly, you placed your palms on the edge of the basin and stared at yourself in the mirror. The pinkish hue of the spilled vino dripped down your neck and collarbone, soaking your shirt to where the hem and edges of your binder defined themselves. 

“Fuck… fucking goddamn it…” You whispered, chest shaking, threatening to release a sob. There, you stood, trying to regulate your breathing.

A knock on the door. Your breath hitched in your throat. 

“It’s me.”

Woodsmoke and leather in a voice.

You unlocked the door. Wesker rested a shoulder on the doorframe. His hands pushed back some stray strands of blonde hair back into their styled position. 

“Can I come in?” 

You should probably say no.

“Yes.”

He breezed in, closing the door behind him and locking it as you had. He crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh. “Chris is kicking that man and his troglodyte friends out as we speak. Looks like that old flame of yours arrived with them.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you nodded, your voice quiet. 

You grabbed the front of your shirt self-consciously, pulling it away from your body so as to unstick it from your skin. Shoulders slumped, physically resembling as deflated as you felt, you perched on the edge of the bath. Wesker watched, unmoving for a moment, before stepping over to the sink. Your face cast to the floor, you managed to raise your eyes to watch as the S.T.A.R.S captain sought out a face cloth, wetting it under the tap with a streak of soap and wringing it out methodically. 

“Come now, head up. That’s it.” 

The pungent herbal aroma hanging stagnant in the air faded as he approached. Usquebaugh scented, underlying cedarwood musk. Wesker crouched before you and gently tilted your chin upwards with a brush of his thumb. The warm dampness of the cloth found your face as Wesker gently wiped at the wine with a methodical grace. His soft, slender fingers cradled the back of your head as the cloth moved to your neck.

Your breath came in halting, light gasps, unable to deny what stirred within you at his touch, the tender press of textile, zephyr-like, to your flesh. A light breeze tickled the nape of your neck from the ajar frosted glass of the window behind. In front, Wesker’s warm breath, hot on your jaw as he moved closer. 

Wesker’s fingers ghosted under the collar of your sodden shirt as he started to clean the viscous liquid more thoroughly - it had settled where your neck met your clavicle. You felt his fingertips meet the edge of the shoulder strap of your binder. You froze, as did he, for a brief, appraising moment. Underneath his sunglasses, you saw his eyes meet yours. The veil that separated the fullness of his gaze from yours was maddening - you wished you could tell what he was thinking.

“It’s not often I meet a man so multi-faceted.”

Wesker’s words were a whisper carried on whisky breath. Your heart pounded in your ears, defensive walls melted like ice to his warm smile. You closed the distance between you in the gap between heartbeats. You pressed your mouth to his and drank him in with each breath. The fingers on the back of your head began to card meticulously through your hair, light tugs and smooth caresses. You exhaled a scarcely suppressed moan into his mouth which he pushed through with his tongue.

All rational thought was discarded, leaving room only for unrestrained desire. Wesker tugged your sodden, stained shirt off over your head and threw it behind you, into the ceramic tub on which you sat. Clumsy fingers found the buttons of his shirt as you desperately revealed his surprisingly toned chest, pressing your palms to it and feeling the musculature beneath. Mercifully, Wesker did not even try to remove your binder, sensing your discomfort and pacing around it with respect. Instead, his hands sought your belt, unbuckling it with fervour. With your waistband loosened and his shirt hanging unbuttoned off his lithe form, he scooped you up, lips exploring every inch of exposed skin, and placed you with little effort on the sink. Once there, you assisted him with shimmying off your jeans. The cold porcelain of the sink's rim pierced your exposed thighs, making you gasp.

"Wesker, are you sure-?" You sighed, tilting your head back as his lips pressed once more to your jaw. Your mind cast back to the many guests you saw him engaging in conversation with, those that verged on flirtation. 

"Nothing feels more certain," Wesker responded with a lilt of need, his lips dancing along your neck. "You taste of wine, my dear."

"Wonder why that is."

You weren't expecting this to amuse him. And yet, the breaths of his laugh slid over your skin as he lightly nipped at your flesh. Grazing teeth and languid licks. You pushed his shirt off over his broad shoulders, coursing your fingers down the sides of his supple torso. Wesker's lips found yours once more. He stroked your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your boxers. Your hand reached to his dress pants, fondling the stiffening outline beneath his zipper. While you cupped his clothed length and slowly caressed it with one hand, the other hand unclipped the catch of his pants and tugged them down as far as you could reach.

Wesker pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. They had slid down enough that you could just catch his silvery-blue eyes beneath. "I must admit, I was rather pleased to hear that you're not with Redfield."

You raised your eyebrows in thinly-veiled disbelief before quickly recovering.

"Jealousy is not becoming of you, Captain," you breathed, the friction of his fingers pulsing against your clothed clit maddening in their slowness. 

"Hm. Nor you." He responded curtly, thumb increasing in pressure on your hardened bud. You bit back a moan and tilted your head, puzzled.

"Someone didn't like me talking to your party guests as I did,” Wesker elaborated with a quirk of an eyebrow. Leaning in, he tilted his head and nibbled on your jaw once more. Less gently this time. A hint of warning. "I find you attractive, your envious streak less so."

"I mean- mmf," you gritted your teeth, slowly feeling yourself succumbing to him. His natural dominance was starting to claw its way to the surface, and you were powerless under its sway. "Wesker…"

"Mm?"

"You got a first name?"

"Not one you need to concern yourself with now." 

Wesker responded so abruptly you felt an irrevocable instinct; like you needed to apologise. But before you could linger on this impulse, the captain had freed his cock from his underwear. The tip already glistened deliciously with precum as it sprung to attention. For a moment, not a single thought crossed your mind as your hand reached out and pumped along his length, warmth pooling in your cunt. It throbbed in its emptiness, begging to be full of him.

"Impatient little coquet, aren't we?" Wesker purred, his breath coming in ragged bursts as you stroked along his length. And yet, he still didn't let up on giving your emboldened clit the attention it craved.

"W-We can't be in here long. People will wonder-" 

"Let them wonder, my dear."

Wesker punctuated his words with a sharp tug, and you aided by lifting your hips off the sink long enough for him to yank your underwear off. Immediately, you shivered at the exposure, the heat of the slick coating your entrance biting against the cool surface of the basin.

"My, my," Wesker exhaled. He crouched slightly as he took in the sight of your cunt, swollen, pulsing desperately. He pumped his cock slowly as it twitched in his hand. "Your body is begging for me. Not a lot of begging from this pretty mouth of yours, though."

His fingers trailed upwards, over your abdomen and switching course to your arms so as to not touch your chest. Despite how commanding he was, Wesker seemed intent on avoiding the parts of you which made you uncomfortable - a level of respect certain others had not been so forthcoming with. The dominance he exuded was hot, but his attentiveness to your needs was somehow hotter.

Not one to let a hint lie untaken, you opened your mouth to beg: "Please, Wesker, I ne-"

By now, his hand had reached your mouth. You were cut off as he slid two digits between your parted lips. You let out a squeak of surprise but, not wanting to delay further, you closed your lips around his fingers and sucked fervently on them. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pumped them further into your mouth, grazing your tongue. A heady mix of alcohol and your own arousal sang across your tastebuds. Through the sunglasses, you could just make out his eyes fixated on you lapped appreciatively at his fingers. This image no doubt would keep him company on many lonely nights to come.

He removed his fingers from your mouth with a loud popping sound. Thankfully, the pounding of Chris's curated music mix coursing through the stereo speakers in the living room would conceal any such noises from outside ears.

"Now. What were you saying, sweetness?" His already deep voice was huskier now, laced with lust as his wettened fingers found your clit again, before sliding beyond and burying his ring and middle finger into your cunt in a beckoning motion.

The much-awaited intrusion forced a lewd whine from your throat. But it wasn't enough. God, it wasn't enough.

“Please, Wesker," you took your time drawing out the sound of his name, "I need you inside me. Need to feel your cock, need it in me, need you to fuck me, please…"

"Such a needy boy," Wesker drawled. He was trying to keep up the dominance game, power in his hands only. But his words were thick with a heated desire. Already, more strands of his blonde hair had come unstyled and were hanging loosely over his forehead. The slow erosion of his put-together appearance only served to dampen your entrance more in anticipation of him. He removed his fingers from your cunt, only to shift his weight forward to line up his dick to your weeping hole. 

A knock on the door.

Of all times, why now?

You and Wesker glanced to the lock in tandem, verifying it was indeed still latched.

Chris's voice on the other side of the door, calling your name. Chris, who was wondering where you are. Chris, whose boss you were about to fuck. If he only knew.

"Hey, you in here? I saw what happened, I- I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

The part of you about to snap at him for his timing softened. An amused smile lifted the corners of Wesker's lips as he glanced back to you.

"Yeah- yeah, just getting cleaned up. It's okay. Really, it's fine."

You heard a sigh from beyond the door. "Alright. Hey, listen, have you seen Captain Wesker anywhere?"

His cue. The smile that was developing on Wesker's handsome countenance had morphed into a devious smirk. A barely suppressed chuckle followed as, the second Chris said his name, he sank his cock into you. His hands latched onto your ass and pulled your pelvis down so he was buried into you in one long, drawn-out thrust, leaving no room for you to adjust to his size.

Your mouth opened in a silent gasp which took everything in your power to suppress. Woodsmoke and leather, his presence unending, was swallowed inside of your eager body. And somehow, you had to respond. Wesker raised his eyebrows expectantly at you as he slowly pulled out, only to bury himself inside you once more, quicker this time.

Wesker's smirk was torturous. His cock twitched appreciatively inside of you, caressing your walls with each pulse of his hips and not letting up. This situation clearly both amused and aroused him to no end.

Chris said your name again, more of a question this time. 

"Say something, darling," Wesker leaned forward and muttered into your ear, words lilting like a taunting melody. "Chris will get suspicious."

You wrestled with every part of yourself that wanted to crumble into the cacophony of moans you could feel stirring in your chest. Instead, you fought for control over your voice, and spoke, in the most even tone you could muster. 

"N-no, no, sorry. No idea where he is. Maybe… uh… he went home?"

Wesker increased his pace, setting a rhythm not unlike a rushing heartbeat. Your body jolted from the force, unwittingly knocking over your hand soap dispenser and a few other bottles of assorted bathroom products. The tip of Wesker's cock kissed your cervix deliciously, and a moan escaped your lips before you could push it back down. Wesker's eyes widened at the unrepressed sound, his smile growing a tinge more ardent. Scrambling, you attempted to cover it up, a fake coughing fit being your choice of pantomime.

Chris's voice was tinged with concern at the sound. First the clattering, then your ‘coughing’.  "A-Are you okay?"

"Yeah, s-sorry. You know me, clumsy as always," you stammered, speaking perhaps a little too fast. 

"Should I come inside?" Chris asked, voice slightly louder.

A rattling of the door handle. Your heart jolted. Even though it was locked, you didn't trust the security of the room. And still, Wesker fucked you senseless, caring little for the implications were you to get caught, caring even less for how you struggled through your words.

"No!" You nearly shouted back. "No, no, I'm… not decent."

With Wesker's alcohol-scented breath hot and moist on your ear, he whispered: "You most certainly are not. Filthy."

Desperately, you willed Chris to leave, feeling your arousal reach its peak. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you went crashing over the edge. Perhaps there was something about the risk that you enjoyed, too.

Your roommate’s voice came through once more from beyond the door. "Okay, I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Yeah!" You tried not to sound too enthusiastic as you heard his footsteps retreating. 

Eyes wild, incredulous, you turned back to Wesker. "What the fu-"

Wesker crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your indignation. Slick with saliva, he pulled his mouth away from yours. You attempted to gaze into his eyes, to peel away the layers. The dark veil remained. 

You didn’t know why you asked when you did. Perhaps a favour to Chris - if anything, your salacious tryst with his boss could yield an answer to a question. Perhaps it would soften the blow, were he ever to find out about this.

“Why is it you always wear those sunglasses?”

Wesker, if he was shocked by your question, didn’t show it. His cock generated sliding friction along your walls as he plunged himself in and out of you.

“The eye is the window of the soul, the mouth the door. The intellect, the will, are seen in the eye; the emotions, sensibilities, and affections, in the mouth.” 

To effortlessly quote a philosopher while in the throes of carnal pleasure was a talent indeed.

“Who’s that from?” You asked through breathy moans.

Wesker grunted with effort, burying himself to the hilt in you and cradling your jaw with his fingers. “Unimportant. But it should answer your question.”

You didn’t know whether it was because your impending orgasm was rendering your synapses inert, but you were reasonably sure that you were more confused on the subject than before.

But that didn’t matter. Because Wesker had a question for you, too.

"Should I come inside?"

He echoed Chris's words, the meaning entirely different. Wesker's voice was throaty, losing its silky quality the closer he came to his climax. 

"Yes. God, god yes."

That was all it took, for him and for you. Your entire body collided with your climax, a leg-shaking affair which forced your head back in ecstasy. 

"Fuck, yes-"

Moments later, you felt your dripping pussy filled with his warm release. It coated your inner walls, mixing with your slick. Slowly, he pulled his cock free from your weeping hole.

Wesker smoothed the rogue blonde hairs hanging over his face back into position. Teeth bit down on his lower lip as he beheld his cum slide slowly out of you, dripping onto the porcelain surface of the sink. Suddenly, you felt embarrassed, moving to close your knees together. His hand moved swiftly, as swiftly as it did when he prevented the man from shoving you. It blocked your knees from meeting, and he instead pushed them open again insistently.

"Now, don't deprive me of such a sweet sight."

Instead, he deprived you of a sweet sight as he pulled his underwear and pants back over his lower half, his cock disappearing beneath fabric. He set to work buttoning up his shirt once more, starting to rebuild his well curated outer persona. Meanwhile, you had never felt more fucked out in your life. You pressed the back of your head to the mirror, legs still straddling the sink. Your cunt twitched with ongoing aftershocks, feeling Wesker's cum gradually leak out of you.

Wesker regarded you up and down, securing the final button on his shirt but leaving some loose. Giving a slight teaser as to what lay beneath, but nowhere near the entirety of him that you had been treated to.

"You're even filthier than you were when you came in here, dear," he observed without a hint of irony. Fully dressed now, he stepped forward and graced your lips with a light kiss, nowhere near enough to satiate you and more than enough to leave you wanting more. 

"Wesker-"

Wesker strode over to the door, tilting his head back to watch as you slid slowly on shaky legs off the sink. “It’s been seven minutes,” he said. “People will wonder.”

Woodsmoke, leather. Vanilla, wine. No strong smell could override the undercurrent of risk that struck like a dagger in your heart as his eyes found yours. He slid his sunglasses deliberately down his nose. And, finally, you deciphered the look in his eyes that had been hidden from you all this time. 

Wesker looked at you like you were prey. 

And you loved it.

Soo there's this resident evil mod.......

Devil May Meow: They don't know any maths😔

Could you do maybe Alastor having you sit on his lap for a while only to then start bouncing his leg and forcing you to basically hump his thigh to get off? He’s so hot istg

a/n: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this. got carried away 😭 this is not proof read whatsoever lol.

REQUESTS OPEN 🩷

tags: 18+ smut, semi-public/public, slight degradation, thigh humping

alastor was never one for PDA, or at least he thought so. Until he met you, and was enamored with your every move, every touch. he didn't much care for sharing you, but little miss princess of hell was on a tangent of making the hotel inhabitants spend "quality bonding time" together at least once a month.

so here you all sit for a movie night, everyone paired off in their own comfy corner while some silly movie played on the old tv projector. alastor hated these events for multiple reasons, but he at least was able to enjoy having you sit snug on his lap. he doesn't even realize he's doing it at first, but he's been bouncing his leg for the last several minutes, and it's been slowly driving you mad.

the friction has you letting out a shudder, your loose pajama shorts not doing much to prevent your pussy from feeling every slide of his thigh. this finally catches alastor's attention, his hands snaking around your waist to anchor you in place. "what's the matter? not comfortable, love?" he mocks, keeping his voice faint so the others don't hear. his leg bounces with more purpose now and you're forced to put your hand over your own mouth.

you shake your head to answer his question but when you try to remove yourself from his lap, his grip around your waist tightens almost painfully. you're sure there's a wet spot on your shorts, threatening to spread to alastor's pants as well, especially when you feel his claws digging ever so slightly into the soft flesh of your stomach. "stay." he grumbles, watching the way your hips twitch with every slow drag of his thigh.

"naughty thing, you are. in front of our friends?" his breath tickles your ear while you nervously glance around the room. no one seems to notice you're about thirty seconds from cumming all over alastor's lap, but the thought of anyone knowing was working you up even further. you can't help it, your body moving on it's own as it seeks out the sweet friction of alastor's warmth beneath you. "t-touch me, please." you manage, finding your orgasm would come faster if he'd just slip his hand in between your thighs.

alastor has to muffle his laugh as to not alert the others. "no can do, darling." his hips meet yours, and you let out a small gasp when you feel his cock pressing stiffly against your ass. all you'd have to do it pull your shorts to the side and he'd be in you already. "needy little whores can get themselves off if they so desire." the growl in his voice is almost enough to push you over the edge on it's own, but the way he forces your hips forward and back on his bouncing thigh certainly helps.

with each drag, your core tightens. the familiar heat pools low in your gut. and when your orgasm finally rolls through you, alastor clamps a hand over your mouth while the other continues pulling your hips into his. your whole body shakes, eyes rolling into the back of your head as alastor pulls your back flush against his chest. your heaving breaths are a dead giveaway, along with the bright red flush to your cheeks. luckily, everyone seems to be happily involed with the movie and none the wiser to your dirty little secret.

alastor releases his grip and watches you sink into his chest. his cock pressed painfully into your back still, and its taking all of your willpower not to impale yourself on it. and honestly? if no one heard any of that, would they hear anything if you slipped it in? it was too tempting not to try. "a-al please." you whisper, biting your bottom lip. "n-need you still." alastor always said he was a man of strong resolve, but you were his biggest weak spot.

with a soft sigh, alastor wiggles a hand between your bodies and releases his cock from his own pajamas while you pull your shorts to the side. with another glance around the oblivious room, you finally feel that slow, delicious slide of alastor's cock filling you so deep as you sit yourself down. his hands find your hips once more, holding you down with ease.

"don't you dare move a muscle, you hear me darling? you're getting more than you deserve right now. be good, maybe you'll get to have my seed filling you." you clench around him, earning a sharp intake of breath and his nails to dig into you once more. you nod in understanding and try to put your attention back onto the screen, but the feeling of alastor's cock pressed so snug and deep inside your cunt has you seeing stars.

once he's seen that you do intend to listen, he sneaks a hand down the front of your shorts and toys with your still sensitive clit. it's enough to have your whole body shivering, shaking in his lap as you fight off the desire to moan out his name. you grind your hips this time, unable to stop your body from seeking more pleasure.

its only a matter of a few more minutes before alastor's has you coming undone in his lap, your second orgasm not quite as strong but still enough that you bite your lip hard enough to bleed so you don't scream. alastor's follows soon behind you, your tight walls milking out every drop of cum into the deepest parts of you. it's intoxicating, you physically feel dizzy as you come back to your senses and realize alastor really just came in you while in front of all your friends.

in a panic, you want to scramble off of his lap but alastor holds you to him. "you want to run off with my cum dripping out of you? sit. we'll handle this later." the cold sound of his voice post orgasm makes you almost whine. he always sounds so hot after cumming, like the lust takes over his voice and just-

"oh! you guys are out of popcorn! i will be right back." charlie's voice pulls you from your erotic daydream and back into the world of- holy shit you just had sex in front of everyone-

alastor chuckles. "why thank you charlie! such a kind and considerate host. maybe bring us a... salty little treat as well." he winks to the princess, who just smiles and trots off for more snacks.

meanwhile, you're ready to die of embarrassment.

jewelry of every kind

no thoughts except Spencer wearing MGG’s rings…

Summary: Spencer tries out wearing more accessories and you decide to show him just how much you love them.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: 18+ Content (NSFW/NSFM), smut, hand kink, finger sucking, choking, fingering, piv sex

Word Count: 1.3k

“Those are new,” you say, motioning to Spencer’s hands as he skims through the contents of a file with sleep.

Scattered across his fingers were four golden rings of various sizes and shapes, but the one that took you by surprise most was the large round pinky ring.

“Hm,” he mumbles, jolting is head up from his work, his sleepy eyes meeting yours. “Oh, these? I’ve always had them sitting around, I figured it was probably time I wore them.” Then, he went back to his work.

You cozy yourself onto the couch cushion beside where Spencer was still hunched over, running his lengthy fingers down each page. Normally, this alone was enough to do you in, but the addition of how his hands looked donning jewelry made your head spin.

“I like them,” you caught his right hand as he reaches the end of a page, bringing it up to your face, “a lot…”

Before Spencer could switch his brain off from work mode, you had taken his thumb into your mouth and began to suck on it with just enough pressure to make his nerves stand on end.

The paper still in his free hand fell onto the coffee table and an uncontrollable gasp came from his lips.

"Oh it's like that?" Spencer inquired, watching you intensely as you looked at him with wide pleading eyes.

"Mhm," you hum, causing a vibration that ran up from his thumb and up to his neck. "Makes me want them inside of me so bad."

Without warning, Spencer draws you to straddle his lap and into a passionate kiss. As his tongue found his way into your mouth to explore, his fingers drifted to part your robe where he discovered your bareness underneath.

"God, y/n... nothing underneath?" he asks, slipping a finger down your slit and feeling your warmth already pooling. "And so wet for me already."

His finger dips further into your center and the cool metal of one of his rings brushes against your clit, eliciting an instinctive moan to cry from your throat.

"Does it feel good, angel?" Spencer purred, slipping another finger in and curling them to hit your sensitive spot.

Another cry bellowed from your lips, throwing your head back in the process. "Yes, yes so good, Spence."

The arch of your back made your robe come completely undone, revealing your swollen breasts. Without missing a beat, Spencer brought his mouth to one of them, biting them gently. As he did so, his fingers pumped in and out of you faster, the metal providing a stinging cold sensation against the heat growing from your wetness and the friction. You feel an ache begin to grow in your abdomen and pressure build as he increases the dexterity of his fingers, eventually you find your release around them slicking his fingers with even more of your arousal.

As you come down from your high, Spencer slowly removes his fingers and brings them to your parted lips with a devilish grin. You run your tongue in between them, your arousal coating your tongue before taking his digits completely in your mouth, nearly touching the golden accessories that had started your obsession.

Your cum tasted musky and sweet upon your tongue, but you wanted so desperately for Spencer to taste it, too - so you kissed him deeply, gliding your tongue against his.

"You always taste so good, baby," he growls, the feeling of his erection growing underneath you.

"Mmm, you know what? I've been wanting to wear a certain piece of jewelry again for awhile," you state, unbuckling his pants while grinding against him lightly.

Spencer could hardly form words with you touching his bulge, but he managed to croak, "W-which one is that?"

As you pulled his pants completely to the ground, springing his cock up to his navel, you leaned in to whisper, "Your hand as my necklace."

A guttural groan escaped him and it sounded like a melody to your ears. You glided your folds on top of his erection before sinking down on him at an achingly slow pace, causing Spencer to firmly grasp one of your ass cheeks and the other to grip the back cushion of the couch.

When you reached the point of being completely full of him, Spencer suddenly began to fuck up into you with growing force and pace. Taking you by surprise, you whimper and attempt to regain your pace by placing your hands upon his braced chest. Without warning, his hand shoots to clasp around your throat, squeezing gently.

"Is this what you meant, angel?" he asked, adding extra pressure and thrusting into you with more force.

You let out a desperate moan and respond, "Y-yes, sir. Doesn't it look so pretty on me?"

"Yes," Spencer rubs his thumb against the peak of your throat and admires it as he speaks. "It looks like it was made for you."

The pressure of his hand around your throat makes your arousal grow and drip down onto the base of his cock freely. The sounds of your bodies slapping to together with a perfected rhythm in combination with your exchanges of whimpers and moans make your body rise with chills. His ringed hand clasping your throat, the way he looked in ecstasy with his eyes rolled back, and the way that he completely filled you made you closer and closer to your second climax.

"I love you so much, y/n - fuck," Spencer huffed, his cock growing harder with every sloppy thrust.

His hand moves from your throat to intertwine through your hair, yanking it back to reveal your red and tender neck. Quickly, he leans forward to place open-mouthed kisses along the faint swollen hand print. The sensitivity of your neck translated to the increasing sensitivity between your legs.

"I - I love you, too, Spence," you say breathlessly, reaching down to gently rub your clit in a desperate attempt to release yourself.

"Oh, how pitiful, angel. Are you close to cumming again?" he murmured, nibbling gently on your earlobe and grasping both of your ass cheeks firmly.

All you can manage is a whimper of confirmation as your eyes close and your breath tightens.

"We can cum together, okay?" he hums, feeling your walls tighten around his pulsing dick.

"Y-yes, please, please," you faintly whisper, your clit becoming nearly numb with pleasure.

Spencer readjusts himself underneath you to hit your cervix perfectly, eliciting a genuine sob of pain and need from your lips. His grip on your backside became close to clawing into your skin, but it only increased the euphoria of your ever approaching high.

A few more deep thrusts was all it took for both of you to fall apart. Spencer cried out your name with sweat beading against his brow while he released his seed deep into your throbbing core. You nearly collapsed on top of him from the weakness of your thighs as they shook with your release. The tightness of his grip only grew as he lifted you up and down a few more times to make sure that you were completely full of him.

As both of you came down from your high, you found yourself kissing one another with a tired passion that was full of the most permeating intimacy. The nearly drunken feeling that it caused was suddenly cut off by Spencer's hand placing a stingingly firm slap upon your ass.

"I think I left a mark," Spencer said teasingly, examining your throat and backside.

"I sure hope so," you respond, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts.

He places a soft kiss upon your lips before saying, "So, you're saying I should wear these more often?" Spencer twirls his pinky ring suggestively.

"You better," you said, toying with his hands. "I'd like to wear my necklace more often, too."

Bringing you into a deep embrace, he chuckled lightly, "Your wish is my command, angel. And how could I possibly deny you?"

please feel free to request! (or let me know what you think!)

Beach day for the Devil May Cry.... ?!?!?

leon resident evil..............