wesker x fem!reader blurb, 18+. as much as he would despise it, i think pre virus wesker would be a kiss enjoyer.
…
“fuck-“ his voice rasped. a rare flaw in his usually impeccable composure. the sound sent a shockwave straight to your pussy, clenching in response around his cock that was plunging in and out of you so fast it almost hurt. your hands raked down his back in short, hard swipes. manicured fingers, paid for by yours truly, left deep red lines in their wake that would no doubt be sore to the touch in the morning when he got dressed. S.T.A.R.S uniform brushing against his shoulder blades by 6 am sharp, pulling a wince from him occasionally throughout the day. if anyone saw, it was just a crick in his neck bothering him and not scratches from one of his agents. “i’m close,” you cried, a hand halting its marks along his skin and instead grounding itself in his hair.
you felt him lick his lips, the two of you temple to temple before he leaned back ever so slightly, allowing a rare moment of tenderness between the two of you. eyes locked, breaths mingling, noses brushing…it was so much and so new. wesker was a passionate lover, but never intimate. he approached sex like every other part of his life and viewed it as something to excel in, something to dominate. the RPD captain never left your apartment without leaving you with wet sheets and a sore pussy. any orgasms you had with him were always real, you never had to fake it. even if you did, he seemed like the type to sniff it out immediately. but luckily, that wasn’t his style.
“then cum for me,” the untitled ownership in the words, ‘for me’ had your eyes glazing over and your jaw going slack. you caught his eyes flickering to your lips for a brief second before looking up again, brows furrowed in concentration as he observed you. catching you off guard, he suddenly leaned down and caught your lower lip in a bruising kiss, your cupids bows both slick with one another in seconds. his tongue brushed against yours, the wet muscle bringing a flush to your cheeks as you swore you could taste the tooth aching sweetness of affection. an emotion unnamed poured into your mouth, wesker’s breathing hitching as big hands came to scoop the backs of your knees upwards. a surprised noise came from you, one he greedily drank as he changed his pace. harder. deeper. slower. tilting his pelvis to arch the tip of his cock right into the spongy part of your cunt. the change was so precise it made you clench, a precursor to the shockwave building in your spine.
a lewd squelching could be heard between you as your pussy clung to him, gushing so hard you were sure his abdomen was glistening. a warbled mix of syllables left you, but there was a prominent, “captain!” in there somewhere, one he caught. he broke the kiss to grin wickedly against your teeth, enjoying the way you were on the brink of unconsciousness. hips relentless, you felt him chase his own high through yours, pace quickening once he was sure you were past your peak. your head bouncing on the pillow wasn’t enough to deter your eyes from his. baby blues so striking they made you want to cum again. he squeezed them shut before exhaling shakily, trying his best to look you in the eyes. something overcame you, an urge to anchor his unspoken admiration to you. you could see it, taste it, you wanted to feel it.
shyly reaching up, he let you cradle his face as his hips changed rhythm, opting to lean in a way that allowed him to prop a leg against his shoulder and the other around his hip. the new angle had you gritting your teeth in overstimulation, but you dare not say a thing. you wanted him to take what he needed, to take you. and take you he did.
a grimace, before his head dropped to your chest, back freezing up as he groaned so deep you were sure it hurt his throat. cock shooting ribbons of cum inside you, so much so that you felt it cream in a ring around his base as he pulsed an inch or two out mid orgasm. you felt the instant heat, warmth of him pressing against the wall of your abdomen. his breaths came out in huffs, your hands trying to your best to soothe him, going from the flesh of his back to his neck to his cheek to start all over.
you’d never tell him, but you caught the way he tried to hide a whine as he gently pulled himself free of you. fluids sticking to each other like glue. half expecting him to get up and clean himself off, he caught you by surprise when an arm came to hook around your far shoulder and pull you into his chest. the two of you were disgusting. sweaty, sticky, panting, but neither of you cared. wesker’s brain was rattling with the thoughts of umbrella, the idea of mercy bouncing around in his skull as he tried to think of a way to spare you when the time came.
and it would come soon.
he’d deal with it later. he couldn’t think straight with the way your head nuzzled into him. something beyond mercy was prickling at his psyche, turning something analytical into affection. he hated how much he loved it. you had chemically rearranged his brain, molding yourself to his life, and he would take you with him now anywhere. that he knew.
Pairing: Chris Redfield x Reader, Leon Kennedy x Reader
Summary: Fresh off a breakup, your ex’s friend, Chris Redfield, stops by your office building. Oddly enough, he doesn’t offer much sympathy for your broken heart.
Someone raps at your door, yanking your attention away from the spreadsheet that had occupied your computer screen for most of the day. Dry eyes blinking, you listen for any sliver of sound, starting to believe you hallucinated the knock before another one reverberates against the solid oak.
"(Y/N)?"
Chris Redfield. You'd recognize that voice anywhere, commanding yet kind. He’s really such a sweet guy. When Leon first introduced you to Chris, you didn’t expect such a soft soul to be tied to such a large, menacing body.
"Chris? Come in."
He cracks the door open before pushing it open to reveal his perpetual uniform of a tight short-sleeve shirt and sand-colored cargo pants secured with a metal belt buckle that glistens beneath the dim light of your office. Two faint lines between his brows give away the fact that he's stressed, or confused, or both. He narrows his dark eyes at you.
“It’s seven o’clock. Why are you still here?” Chris asks, glancing back into the near-silent hallway at all the empty cubicles and offices that surround yours. “Everyone else has gone home, it looks like.”
“I have to finish up this report or it’ll never get done. I figured I’d stay late and tough it out. You know, I could ask you the same question. You don’t even work in this building, what are you doing here?”
He laughs, throwing up a hand in defeat. “Got me. I’m looking for Leon, do you know where he is?”
Ugh, Leon. The man who broke your heart into a million pieces yesterday, his harsh words still sizzling on your skin, the knife of his apathy and disinterest still twisting in your gut. Truth be told, this report didn’t need to get done tonight, you just couldn’t bear the idea of going home to an empty apartment to sob over old photos and memories, wine-drunk and pitiful. The mental image of you sitting on the couch, ugly-crying into a pint of ice cream while scrolling through your camera roll makes you nauseous. No thank you. Spreadsheet and vending machine food it is.
"In his office, probably," you sigh. "Check the third floor."
"I did and he's not there. Why I came down to you. Thought you'd know where he is, being his girlfriend and all."
Leon must not have told him what happened.
You relinquish control over your computer mouse. "I don't know, sorry. As of…" You peer down at the dainty watch on your wrist. "…twenty hours ago, I am no longer apprised of Leon Kennedy's comings and goings."
"Uh-oh." Chris steps further into your office, shutting the door behind him before taking a seat in one of the plush upholstered chairs across from your desk. He's so massive you're always surprised to see him completely dwarf normal-sized objects. He's almost cartoonishly too large for the chair, limbs sturdy and long, trying to find a comfortable position. His thick forearms, faintly peppered with dark hair and brown freckles, drape over the armrests. Dense thighs spread as he settles onto the cushion. "That doesn't sound good. Mind if I ask what happened?"
You raise an accusatory eyebrow, hesitant to divulge to you of his closest friends the details of your and your ex-boyfriend's messy break-up, but his face just looks so sincere and concerned, you can't help but spill.
"We broke up last night. Two-and-a-half years down the drain," you sigh, letting your shoulders fall, leaning back against the mesh of your rolling chair. "Difference of opinion, I guess."
"And what opinion would that be?"
Dying to find a distraction, your fingers fiddle with the cuffs of your silk blouse as you fight back menacing tears that threaten to fall and smudge your makeup. You can’t have yourself looking like a mess in front of Chris just in case he goes behind you back to Leon and tells him just how devastated you are without him in your life now. Truthfully, Chris isn’t the type of man to act so juvenile, but you still would rather keep your composure in front of a mutual friend.
"I thought we were good together and he…didn't. Said he couldn’t see a future with me."
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry to hear that, (Y/N)." Chris's eyes fall, if only a moment before he glances back up at you with a slight toothless smile, sympathetic and warm, and a breathy chortle leaves his chest. You blink at him, perplexed by such an odd reaction. "Actually, I'm not sorry to hear that. Really, I’m kind of glad."
He stands up, thirty-eight-year-old joints popping at the shift in movement. Walking to the other side of the desk, stopping right in front of you, he kneels down on one knee, left elbow resting on left thigh, hand slack. You can't believe your eyes, trying to find some sort of curtain to pull back and reveal what is truly happening because this can't be reality.
"Chris, what are you—"
His other hand slides between your knees, not moving, just staying still, sandwiched between them. Dark blue eyes are glued to his hand, to your flesh surrounding it.
"I always thought you were too good for him. He didn't deserve a woman like you—always leaving you without saying where he was going, coming back from missions only to ignore you for days and binge drink at some bar instead of being at home with his lovely girlfriend."
"Chris," you murmur, his name falls off your tongue like a pleading prayer. The warmth of his calloused palm on your skin sends a dangerous flutter between your legs and a puddle spreads across the fabric of your panties. Such arousal at the hands of your ex-boyfriend’s best friend feels like a betrayal, and you have to remind yourself of the harsh words he spit at you last night, of the two years he wasted being a shitty partner, of the nasty confirmation he gave when you asked whether he was walking out of your life forever. You no longer belong to him, or any other man.Thus, you’re completely free to let Chris Redfield’s hands explore your legs.
"Shh," he hushes, looking up into your eyes with blown pupils and a gaze that says a thousand things all at once. "Let me show you how I'd treat you if you were mine. Will you let me?”
You nod, already choking down a moan that begs to be released into the air. Goosebumps rise beneath the pads of his fingers as he gingerly touches the hem of your pencil skirt, slowly pushing the fabric up your thighs until it’s bunched at your hips. Two fingers play with the fabric crotch of your panties, and a lightbulb goes off behind Chris’s eyes as he touches the growing wet spot soaking the lace.
“This better not be from thinking about Leon,” he warns, tauntingly, fingers pulling aside your panties until his fingertips can roam freely around your slick cunt.
“It’s–no,” you gasp, shaking your head. Nails dig into the armrest of your desk chair, leaving crescent indentations in the black plastic. “It’s not, Chris.”
“Then tell me who got you this wet already,” he commands, teasing your needy clit by touching every other spot but the one that needs the most attention. “Tell me who turned you on so much you can’t stop shaking.”
“You did.”
“Yeah, and who’s gonna eat your pussy until you cum so hard you won’t be able to take it from another man without thinking of me?”
“Y-you,” you stutter, teeth chattering. “Chris.”
“Yeah, me.” In a sudden jolt of energy and burning hot need, Chris stands up and yanks you off your chair, pulling you to the ground beneath him. One hand rests against the back of your head to cushion the landing, a merciful gesture in an otherwise rough, forceful siege. His fingers hook around the band of your panties, and with a quick tug, he has ripped them clean off of you, leaving your slobbering pussy exposed to the vent above which churns out icy, manufactured air. It nibbles at your wet flesh, sending a child through every vein.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Chris curses, spreading your legs to get an even better view of the glistening mess seeping down your lips. “All this from teasing you a little, huh?”
“Mmm,” you moan, lids fluttering open to glance up at his face. You see a reckless hunger in his eyes that scares you. He looks absolutely feral and frenzied, like a rabid animal, like a starving lion sneaking up on its prey, plotting an attack.
“I’ve been thinking about this since I met you” his hands press down on your knees, keeping you wide open for him. “Since that asshole introduced you to me. Fuck, I could kick the shit out of him for hurting you.”
You know he probably doesn’t mean it, not really, but the sentiment tickles you in ways you wish it didn’t. The image of Chris beating up his close friend and colleague for your honor sends a hot flush to your cheeks and a bolt to your clit.
You push yourself up onto your elbows and press the ball of your foot onto Chris’s shirt, increasing the pressure until the fabric bunches beneath your toes and begins to ride up his abdomen. He gets the message, loud and clear, yanking off his skirt in one swift tug.
Your mouth gapes open at the sight of his immaculately sculpted form, a vision so insanely beautiful you doubt for a second his humanity. No one looks that good. Not even Leon, and he was damn-near perfect.
“Now stop talking about Leon and start following through on those threats.” A challenge you’re sure Chris will accept.
His eyes flash to yours in a moment of hot recognition, and he obeys your command, immediately bending down to attack your clit with a heavy tongue. A starving cat lapping up milk. Mouth practically salivating, he slurps and sucks on the longing bud, eliciting from your heaving chest the most disgusting, porno moan you’ve ever heard leave your lips.
Almost instantly, just mere seconds under the passion of his mouth, you feel the buzzing beginnings of an orgasm crest on the horizon.
“Ch–ri–s,” you mewl, his name coming out broken, each sound prolonged out of sheer inability to force them out all at once. “Don’t. Stop.” Panting and huffing, you grab onto the short strands of his hair to keep yourself tethered to this dimension, and stuffing his face further into your pussy.
He growls a beastly growl, starving hands reaching up for your waist, fingers buried into the flesh of your hips as he continues his ferocious assault on your swollen, pleading cunt. Needing something denser to grab onto, you plunge your fingertips into Chris’s sinewy shoulders, nails meeting pure muscle.
A thick finger dives into your pussy, crooking against the spongy spot behind your pelvis that makes the edges of your vision go blurry. You can no longer control yourself as he presses another finger to meet the first. Your back arches off the scratchy carpet, your hips spazzing beneath his grip.
“I’m so close,” you yelp as your climax approaches. Walls clench and grip his fingers. Core tightens. You cry out as the sweet release washes over you and Chris’s tongue remains flat and heavy on your overstimulated nub, moving down to your entrance to drink up every last drop of your gushing orgasm.
“Fuck,” he hisses, coming up to meet your mouth, the taste of your pleasure still hot on his lips. They pull off yours with a smacking pop, and he smiles a wide, toothy smile. The almost boyish look on his face makes your already weak legs feel like jelly. He looks so proud of himself, as he should be. You’ve never cum that hard in your life, and it was all because of his tongue.
He pushes back and stands up, extending a hand. Surely, he’s not serious.
“No, Chris, I can’t,” you whimper, knowing for certain that if you tried to stand up, your legs wouldn’t be able to support you. “I’m still shaking.”
He shakes his head, unwilling to take ‘no’ for an answer. “C’mon. I’ve got you, honey.” After a split second of hesitation you already regret, you slip your hand in his and he pulls you up to meet him, his capable arms holding you steady against his body. After giving you a moment to get your bearings straight, Chris flips you around, shoving his clothed erection onto your bare ass, skirt still bunched up at your waist. “Hands on the desk,” he commands, ever the soldier. With one hand over each of yours, he guides your palms to the cool wood surface littered with sticky notes and loose leaves of paper, pressure growing on your knuckles until one second it’s just gone.
Behind you, the sound of a zipper hissing.
“You’re so perfect,” Chris growls, smoothing down the ends of your hair that waterfall down your back, then moving to grab a handful of your ass. “I’m gonna fuck you until you forget the name of any other man that has touched you. Got it?”
“You better,” you whine, leaning onto the desk as his hands slither around your hips, supporting your weight. The tip of his cock teases your slit, threatening to enter and you turn around to get a better look at the beast. He’s huge, you knew he would be. “Um, I don’t know if that’ll fit.” You gaze into his eyes and he gives you a cocky, up-to-no-good smile.
“Nah, it’ll fit perfectly,” he retorts with a wink. Arching your back so that he can find the best angle, your lip trembles in sweet anticipation as you feel him line up the wet head of his cock at your entrance. He takes his time and every moment he’s not inside, filling you up, you grow more manic for him.
“I need you inside,” you plead, salty tears prickling the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. You hear him chuckle darkly behind you, fingers digging into your cheeks, cock sliding between your swollen lips.
“Chris, please. Fuck me until I forget Leon’s name, just like you said.”
That did it. He plunges his entire length into your gushing cunt, causing you to yelp out in a masochistic pleasure. The stretch of his thick girth is equal parts painful and pleasureful, satisfying your aching need to be torn apart by this mass of a man.
He pumps in and out in a melodic rhythm, hands roaming your back and waist as his pelvis smacks your cheeks, moving to gently circle your raw clit with his forefingers.
“Harder, Chris,” you beg. He obliges, hitting you with more force, grabbing harder at your flesh. Still, he’s holding back. It’s not enough. You want to be fucked so hard you worry you’ll be split right down the middle. You know he can do it.
“Leon,” you moan, tempting Chris with his rival’s name on your tongue.
“No,” he bellows in pure fury, thrusting harder than he has before. His raw dick slams into you, knocking you further onto the desk.
“Leon,” you provoke again, cooing with a saccharine song that harmonizes with the groans coming from Chris’s chest.
“Don’t you dare,” he warns, the hand not digging into your ass coming up to your jaw to pull your ear back to his lips. “Don’t you dare say his name.”
“Then fuck me harder,” you dare him, the vibration of your chuckle reverberating against the palm still wrapped around your throat. “Fuck me until I can never be with another man. Ruin me for anyone else.”
“Fuck,” he barks, letting you go to bend back over the desk, holding yourself up with shaky arms. His body clashes so abruptly into yours you just might become one in the moment. Cock ramming into your pelvis with a completely new, unmatched pressure, you sense your arrival. “Like this, baby?”
“Shit, Chris,” you mewl. “I’m so close. Keep moving.”
He obeys, keeping the same devastating tempo that promises to send you over the edge with the next few thrusts. Contracting around his cock, he groans at the sensation of your upcoming climax clenching and releasing him.
“I can feel you’re close. Cum around my cock, and yell my name when you do.”
The heel of his palm reaches around, drilling itself into your pubic bone as forefingers return to your clit, circling the pulsating bud. White specks dot your vision, and you can hear the faintest thump of your heart in your ear drums.
“I’m fuck–Chris, I’m cumming.” You slam your palm on the desk, your other hand reaching around to grip his forearm. Core tensing, legs shaking uncontrollably, vision going black, your second wave of pleasure washes over you, forcing you backward into Chris’s arms.
He struggles to keep up the pace, thrusts growing weaker, farther apart, before he finally lets himself erupt inside you, hot ropes filling you to the brim. You hear his labored breathing grow closer as he collapses against your back, one strong arm still lifting you up, keeping your chest off the table.
Both panting out of sheer exhaustion and the aftershocks of your shared orgasmic release, you and Chris crash onto the floor, meeting that scratchy, plasticy carpet in an embrace. His chest rises and falls, breathing slowing, as you push yourself off the floor to rest on it, listening to his heartbeat beneath layers of sinew.
“He’s such an idiot,” Chris spits, voice still shaky with fatigue. “If I had you, I’d never let you go.”
thinking about riding salt and pepper 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅 before a mission while he's smoking a cigarette in the car.
white smoke veiled his chiseled face from your eyes. one of his hands rested on your left hip while the other handled the cigarette, ashing it every now and then outside the window. his head leaned back when your hips rolled on top of his thighs, seeking friction against his pelvis. a deep, gravely groan bubbled up from his chest and managed to sink into your core.
you've been like that—burying his thick cock into your needy cunt in a messy pace—for quite a while now, and your legs already started to burn from the uncomfortable position; yet you didn't stop. each time chris felt your rhythm falter, his hand gripped tight on your hip and thrusted into you, boots planted firm on the car's floor. he had you bouncing up and down, hair moving from the recoil of his hips. now, apart from the burning in your legs you also felt a burning in your core from the rough friction.
and even if he was fucking into you like a mad man, he calmly took a drag of his cigarette. the orange light of the burning stick lighted up his face with a soft warmth, neutralizing all the rough edges on him.
Hihihihi!!! love ur works so much :) could you maybe do a hound wolf squad reader with Chris or Leon???
Thanks for sending in a request! I decided to do the Chris option for this one!
Summary: No one can know that Chris is dating one of his team members. Unfortunately, he's not as subtle as he'd hoped.
Masterlist
Not Too Subtle - Chris Redfield x Reader
It starts as a joke.
That’s how most of these things start, apparently. The first time you notice the betting pool, it’s because you catch people looking at you and Chris in that very specific way. The kind of way people use when they think they know something you don’t. Three guesses later, you decide they absolutely do know something you don’t.
The Hound Wolf Squad is gathered around the table after a mission, all of them looking half-dead and somehow still full of energy. Drinks are scattered everywhere. Gear is tossed in corners. The men are absorbed in conversation, hushed whispers so quiet that their Captain can’t hear them. Said Captain is by the window, washing the blood off his knuckles in the sink like the whole world hasn’t just tried to kill him again.
You step into the room with a stack of ration bars in your arms and a look on your face that is probably a little too tired to be polite.
“The fuck are you guys talking about?”
Four heads snap toward you. Parker immediately looks guilty. Mike looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Zach is staring into his drink like he’d rather die than participate.
And Chris… Chris just looks vaguely curious, which somehow makes it worse.
You narrow your eyes. “Why are all of you staring at me?”
There is a beat of silence. Then Parker says, far too quickly, “Nobody’s staring.”
Chris looks between all of them with the expression of a man realizing he has walked into a trap. That alone makes you suspicious.
You set the ration bars down slowly. “…What is going on?”
They say nothing. Which is apparently an answer. Chris turns around from the sink, drying his hands on a towel. His brows pull together a little when he takes in the scene.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Parker says at the exact same time Mike says, “Everything.”
Chris looks immediately more concerned. You look more irritated. “This is not helping.”
Zach clears his throat so hard it sounds painful.
Parker, under absolutely no duress, blurts out, “We have a betting pool.”
Silence. Chris blinks. You blink. Then, you turn very slowly to look at him. “A what?”
Mike folds both arms and points at Chris with zero mercy. “Captain thinks we don’t notice when he starts smiling at his phone.”
Zach mutters, “No offence, Captain, but you’re not being subtle. We know you’ve got some girl back home! Just tell us, already.”
Your eyes move to Chris. He goes still. Very still.
At the beginning of your relationship to him, you two had made one rule: No one can know. Not because it’s forbidden exactly, there’s no official rule against dating inside the unit, but because both of you agreed that if the squad found out, you’d never hear the end of it.
So. No PDA. No pet names. No weird favoritism. No one needed to know that Captain Redfield sleeps with his face buried in your shoulder whenever deployments get bad. Simple.
Apparently, not so simple.
Parker gestures vaguely at the table. “It started as a joke.”
“It is still a joke,” Mike says. “Just an expensive one.”
Chris closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, there is already the beginning of something dangerous in his expression. “…How expensive?”
Nobody answers. You glance at the table. At the crumpled paper under a half-empty mug. At the numbers written in aggressive marker. At the names. Odds, you realize.
Your mouth falls open. “Oh my God.”
Parker points at Zach. “He started it.”
Zach immediately throws both hands up. “I did not start it. I merely-”
“You made a spreadsheet!”
“I made a predictive model! You know I was a stats guy before all this-!”
“Enough!” Chris is bellowing now, hand pinching the bridge of his nose.
You stare at the paper again. Chris, to his credit, actually looks offended now. “You people have a spreadsheet? What the hell even gave you these ideas?”
Mike tilts his head. “Well, let’s see.” He starts ticking points off on his fingers with the air of a man presenting evidence in court. “You stopped smoking. You’re always texting someone. You shaved! We haven’t seen you shave in months!”
Chris opens his mouth. Closes it, almost like he’s too exasperated to speak.
Mike keeps going. “You smile at your phone every time you text.”
Your mouth twitches despite yourself. At least they don’t seem to realize it’s you. You’re the ‘mystery woman’. You’re the person he’s been texting.
Chris just sighs.“For the record,” he says slowly, “none of you have any right to comment on my personal life.”
There’s a mixture of sighs and groans as the Squad drops the conversation.
Little did you both know that this was not going to be the end of this.
.
.
.
The betting pool somehow gets worse. Not bigger, necessarily. The men aren’t stupid enough to include other units in the bet. But it gets worse. Because now that the idea has entered everyone’s heads, they start seeing evidence everywhere. Unfortunately, they are very bad at pattern recognition.
It starts two days later. Another deployment. This time, the weather is cold. Everyone’s miserable, yourself included. The mission itself isn’t awful, but it’s one of those long ones. Hours of waiting followed by twenty minutes of absolute hell. By the time everyone gets back to base, nobody’s in a great mood. You peel your gloves off and immediately start rubbing at your fingers. They’re numb and cracked from hours of freezing dry air. You assume that no one notices your discomfort.
Chris apparently does. You’re halfway through unpacking when something heavy and blissfully warm lands on your shoulders. It feels soft against your skin, and you could recognize the scent coming off of it anywhere.
His jacket.
You blink. Chris doesn’t even look up from checking his weapon. “You’re cold.”
“…You’re also cold.” You roll your eyes, tugging the fabric tighter against your body.
His shoulders lift. “I’m fine.”
Then he walks away. You slowly look up. Three squad members are staring.
Parker squints. “…Captain’s weird.”
“WAIT.” Zach nearly leaps out of his seat. All heads turn in his direction, your own eyebrows lifting. He lowers his voice. “…Maybe she’s a doctor. Maybe his girlfriend is one of the medics!”
Mike frowns. “…What?”
“Think about it. He quit smoking!”
Parker gasps. “Oh my God.”
“YOU THINK HE’S DATING A MEDIC?”
You decide not to interfere.
.
.
.
They do not forget their theory. In fact, they get worse. By the end of the week, the theory has evolved. Not only is Captain Redfield dating a medic, he’s apparently deeply in love.
You find this out while cleaning one of your weapons. Parker is sitting nearby with all the confidence of a man who has never once been right in his life.
“It makes perfect sense.”
Mike nods seriously. “It really does.”
“Think about it!” Zach gestures with his fork.
You do not want to think about it. He continues anyway. “He stopped smoking. He started sleeping more!”
You blink, confused. Chris sleeps the same amount he always has. Which is to say not enough.
Zach continues. “He started shaving.”
Mike gasps. “MEDICAL INFLUENCE! She’s making sure he’s healthy!!!”
You nearly choke. Across the room, Chris is reading over reports. His eyes flick up once. “…What are you idiots talking about?”
Mike points at him accusingly. “Your girlfriend.”
Chris pauses. The man’s eyes widen a little. “…My what?”
Parker leans forward. “Captain.”
Chris slowly lowers the papers. “…No.”
“You don’t have to tell us.” Mike sighs. “We support you.”
Chris stares. “…Support me through what?”
“Your relationship.” Parker shrugs.
Silence. The man in question slowly turns, eyes locking onto you. You immediately look away. He narrows his eyes. You pretend not to notice. Chris looks like he’s about to say something, to spill the proverbial beans, when Mike speaks again.
Chris blinks once. “…That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He rubs a hand over his face. In the meantime, you’re struggling to suppress your giggles. Before any other shenanigans can occur, the clock strikes noon.
That means that the mess hall is open for lunch.
Wordlessly, everyone gets up, and heads for the kitchens.
.
.
.
You grab your tray, and load it with everything that’s offered, before sitting down at the table again. Chris sits beside you automatically, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. No one pays any mind to it, really. It’s normal for the Captain to sit beside his team. Nobody notices. That is, until Chris reaches over. He takes your spoon, lowering it into some of the food that you were about to eat. He takes a bite, and makes a face.
You know him too well. You know what he’s thinking.
Too salty.
Without a word, he puts the spoon back, and starts eating from his own tray. The entire table freezes.
Parker slowly turns, eyeing everyone in the room. A long pause. “…Captain?”
Chris glances over. “What?”
Parker points at your tray. “…Did you just taste her food?”
He frowns. Looks down. Looks back. “…Yeah?”
“…Why?”
“…She always over-salts things.” The man just shrugs. As if your soul didn’t just exit your body. As if you two didn't just get caught. The table goes dead silent.
Chris takes another bite. Doesn’t notice. Then, casually, he pushes his water bottle over to you. “You should drink water.”
Your entire body locks. Slowly, all three squad members turn toward you. Fuck.
Nobody says anything. Zach quietly reaches into his pocket. Pulls out a folded paper. Crosses out: MEDIC. And writes: Y/N.
Edit: Guys, i had to sacrifice myself with the tags cuz these were ones i wasnt finding fics with, i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me😞😞
prompt: you spend Christmas with your boyfriend, Jack
warnings: probably foul language idk if you know my writing there’ll be some in there.
a/n: CHRISTMASWITHJACKCHRISTMASWITHJACKCHRISTMASWITHJACKYIPPEE. so i had originally wrote this for christmas but what better way than to release this almost 6 months late yk?
Snow flurries fell onto your eyelashes as you stood, shivering, outside. Jack had insisted that he bring you to an outside skating rink the night of Christmas Eve to “get into the Christmas spirit.” He even bought you new skates so that you could really get the experience.
“Jack.” You growl, slipping as you step onto the ice. He easily catches you and laughs a little before saying,
“I told you sweetheart, I’ve got you.”
You sigh and look up at him searching his warm blue eyes for any hostility. Finding none, you cherished the warmth that radiated on you when Jack presses up behind you to make sure you don’t fall. He rested his hands on your hips as he pushed the both of you forward at a pretty slow speed. The snow gently decorated Jack’s blond hair and eyelashes, as well as yours. You smiled up at him when he turned his head down to look at you.
“You look so beautiful tonight.” Jack whispered in your ear. Blood rushed to your cheeks as they burned bright red.
“You look even more handsome than ever.” You whispered back, reaching up and dusting off some of the snow on his eyelashes. Gliding up to a small wall on the rink, Jack made sure you didn’t hit the wall hard when you ran into it. He was standing over you, hands on either side of your hips. Jack’s nose softly bumped yours as he leaned down, resting his forehead against yours.
“Hey baby.” You laugh softly, eyes meeting his. Jack’s lips softly caught yours, a kiss that was just as sweet as he was.
“I’m so grateful that I’m able to spend Christmas with you.” Jack said, voice trembling slightly. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb gently caressing your cheek.
“Oh Jackie…” You whisper, smiling up at him. You knew that he couldn't go home to his family this Christmas because of the small tour they had from NYC to Nashville, so in return, he opted to stay with you for Christmas. Staying in Raleigh wasn't too bad, really. Jack knew all the places that were quiet that you two could go while he had this small break.
"I'm more than grateful that you chose to spend your Christmas with me." You smile. You thought maybe you saw a small tear escape Jack's eye. You pull him into a tight hug, fearing that if you let go he'd disappear. Jack rests his chin on top of your head, pushing off from the wall and slowly skating backwards. You suddenly weren't nervous about skating, being close to Jack made any fear go away. Jack guided the two of you around the rink once before letting go of you and grabbing your hand, lacing his fingers in yours.
"I'll skate right beside you, love. I'll catch you if you fall." Jack grinned, going the pace you were going.
"Jack, I don't kno-" You started, slipping halfway through your sentence. Jack's strong arms caught you, his soft laughter filling the air. The flurries of snow clung beautifully to Jack’s features as he laughed. You groan in frustration as Jack helped you steady yourself. His laugh reminded you of how these moments are rare because of how busy he is. Tears pricked your eyes as you both skated beside each other.
Jack looked down at you and suddenly frowned, his hand coming to cup your face.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Jack asked.
“Nothing, it’s just so wonderful to have experiences like this with you. They’re so rare because you’re gone all the time.” You whispered. Jack smiled softly and squeezed your hand.
“I wish I could have more moments like this with you.” He smiled. The both of you skated in silence for a little while before it started to get a little more cold.
“Hey babe, I’m getting a little cold.” You shivered, hand trembling slightly.
“You ready to leave then?” He responded, bringing his other hand to warm yours. You nod your head and smile, squeezing his hands. Jack took off his scarf and wrapped it around you, hands cupping your face after he finished.
"Jackie you don't need to give me your scarf-" You start.
"I'll be ok, I play hockey for a living, remember? Plus I grew up in New Jersey, it's a lot colder down there." Jack cut, hand sliding down to your lower back, pressing his palm against it as he guided you off the rink. You held tight to him as he helped you off, strong hands holding you with ease. You both slid your skates off your feet and tugged your warm boots, now filled with snow, back on.
"Back to my place?" Jack offered, trying to set his mysterious plan in motion.
"What have you got planned now, Jack?" You question, eyes narrowing at him. He only smiled, eyes crinkling with love as he gazed down at you. Honestly it wasn't anything too grand to him. Just a few gifts he bought you, dinner he already made, a couple movies he planned to watch, then finally settling down in bed with you. Jack had even gotten you matching pajamas to wear, something he'd always wanted to do.
"You ready? Let's go back home, baby." Jack sighed, taking your hand into his warm one.
Luckily, Jack had experience with driving in snow because in the amount of time it normally takes you to drive a mile in snow, he'd already driven 5. It was almost like second nature for him, probably given the fact he lived in New Jersey for his childhood. In no time you had gotten to his place, a warm and inviting house that reminded you of the one you grew up in.
Jack jumped out of the drivers side and came around to open your door, helping you out so you didn't fall. You followed in pursuit as he made his way to the garage door, also holding it open for you. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek as you walked inside.
"I already made dinner." Jack announced, unwrapping a pork loin from the tin foil it was resting in.
"Oh baby.." You trailed off, tears threatening to fall down your face. Honestly, when you met Jack you thought it would be impossible to fall even more in love with him. But here you are, tears falling from your eyelashes as you fell in love with him all over again. Jack's strong arms wrapped around you, rocking you back and forth.
"It's ok babe, I love you so much." Jack whispered, lips pressing against the crown of your head. One hand stroked your hair as he drew back and pressed a kiss to your lips.
"Now, dinner will be cold if we don't eat soon." He stated, pulling the rest of dinner out of the oven. You got out some lacy red napkins, setting a fork and knife on them next to your vintage Christmas plates. Jack really knew how to cook, surprisingly. It was probably because he had no one to live with him for a majority of his time here, at least until you came around. It was something you deeply admired, mostly because he genuinely seemed to care and enjoy cooking.
After dinner, Jack disappeared into the bedroom for a short bit while you cleaned up the table and dishes. He returned, wearing a pair of cowboy Christmas pajama bottoms, handing you the same pair of pants.
"I-I thought maybe you might like to match with me." Jack stuttered, face turning bright red as he offered you the pair of pants.
"Aww Jack, of course I'd love to match with you." You giggled, taking the pair of pants from him. You started to the bedroom, Jack hot on your heels. You thought he was going to stand outside, but instead he insisted on being in there when you put them on. Shimmying off your warm pants, you were left in your red, lacy panties. Jack sucked in a deep breath and pressed his palms against your hips.
"Guess I'll have to see these later, hm?" He whispered in your ear, one hand landing a soft slap on your ass. You bit your lip and laughed, pulling on the pants.
"Unfortunately, you will. But I promise there's more than what that came from." You responded. Jack smirked and pulled you to the bed. The both of you collapsed next to each other, limbs tangled together. Jack sat up and turned on the TV as you crawled under the sheets, the smell of pine and mint filling the air. Jack found the movie Love Actually and turned up the volume a little. Tugging off his shirt, he slid underneath the covers with you. His eyes moved from the screen to you, hand slipping into the pocket of his pants to pull out a small box.
"Y/N, I have something I want to give you..." Jack mumbled, hand coming to find yours.
"What is it, Jackie?" You whispered back, pulling your eyes away from the screen to look at him. Jack pulled the covers back, revealing a small, square, black box. Jack opened it, revealing a set of diamond earrings.
"Jack..." You whispered, hands trembling as you reached to grab the box from him. Jack tucked your hair behind your ears and put them in, marveling at how beautiful they looked on you.
"Nobody has ever given me anything like this, thank you so much baby." You gasped, planting kisses all over Jack's face.
"I love you so so much, Y/N. This has really been the best Christmas ever. Being able to share it with you has made it so wonderful."
"I love you too, Jack. I wouldn't want to spend Christmas with anyone else now. I want to spend it with you for the rest of my life."
prompt: you and jack ride out your first hurricane together and you end up riding something else as well
a/n: this has been on my mind since Debby landed in NC (unfortunately💔) and has been super duper mega nagging me…college sucks and im a little homesick so writing for the Canes makes me a little less homesick...I also began writing this way before he got traded to the Avs </3 (my poor jackie)
warnings: NSFW!
You had never experienced a hurricane before moving to North Carolina. You were more accustomed to snow and the cold, not high winds and rain. That’s probably why tornadoes and the torrential downpours scared the hell out of you.
Jack insisted on getting gas cans filled for the generator, water, and anything that you didn’t need the stove for. Obviously you did this for the snow, but you didn’t understand what a bunch of rain could do.
“Jack, why exactly do we need all of this?” You asked, face contorting in confusion. Jack looked up from where he was crouched next to the gas pump, hand holding the handle of the gas dispenser. He smiled softly at you and explained,
“Our power could go out for a while and I’d rather not go a few days without taking a shower or sweating to death.”
His blond hair gently floated in the breeze, pulling pieces of it down across his eyes. The eyes that were locked onto yours, those ocean blue eyes that loved you unconditionally. It was cloudy, causing the light to look grey and dull. You could never feel dullness when you were with Jack, that’s what made him so so special to you. He was always so compassionate, gentle, kind, and patient. That’s what made you fall in love with him even if he was a handsome man already. His laughter was contagious and his smile lit up everything around him, including people. You didn’t envy him for this, it was more like you thought it was admirable.
Jack lugged the cans of gas to the back of the truck and stepped into the drivers seat.
“Alright, let’s go home.” He muttered, cranking up the truck. Pulling out of the gas station, he settled his right hand on your thigh, thumb softly drawing circles on it. It was the little stuff he did that drove you crazy, specifically that. Jack knew it too and loved to tease you a little bit with it.
“Jack…” You warned, voice in a low whisper. Jack’s lips twitched up for a moment before settling back into the straight face he had been trying to maintain. It had begun to rain, only a constant drizzle, and the wind had started to howl. That was when you knew that the hurricane was here. You suddenly felt cold, a breeze of chilly air blasting you. Jack’s hand was searing against your thigh, causing a chill to run up your spine, making you shiver. His grip became tighter, tips of his fingers softly digging into your thigh. You could hear the soft breaths escaping Jack and you glanced at him, scanning his face. His eyebrows were drawn together, lips parted, and the tips of his ears were red. You knew that face all too well, he was just as riled up as you were.
“Fuck, Jackie.” Was all you had to say before Jack let out a loud groan. His hand slipped up closer to your groin, the feeling making you shiver with pleasure. You unintentionally spread your legs a little further apart, sliding down into the seat more. Jack’s pinky finger brushed against the zipper of your jean shorts, adding only a small bit of pressure. It drove you insane, really. Your hand flew up to grab his wrist, trying to force him to add more friction. However, because Jack was the hockey player he was, it wasn’t hard for him to stop your antics.
“Jack.” You whined, hand gripping his wrist tighter.
“Shhh, quiet down, sweet pea.” Jack whispered, pinky rubbing slow circles around your clothed clit. The drive was agonizingly slow, between Jack’s pinky softy rubbing your clit and the raging boner he had, it was certainly testing you. You snaked your hand over his thigh, right underneath where his length was. Jack let out a small hiss, hand gripping the wheel tighter. You let your fingers graze him, testing out the waters. Jack let out a soft moan, letting his head fall back against the headrest. Thankfully the windows were quite tinted, meaning that no one could see inside. Slipping your hand under his sweatpants, your hand made slow circles against him.
“S-Shit, you keep doing that and I won’t last, honey.” Jack sputtered, cheeks burning red.
“You like that, Jackie?”You murmured in his ear, placing a kiss to his lips afterwards. Luckily, you had just pulled into the driveway. Jack’s hands moved at blinding speed, unbuckling your seatbelt and hoisting you over the center console. You straddled his hips, core hovering over his.
“Don’t be a tease, sweetheart.” Jack sighed, hands tugging your hips down. With one motion, you rolled your hips against his.
“Fuck.” Jack hissed, his hands gripping your ass. You softly mewed, dropping your head onto his shoulder. One of Jack’s hands unbuttoned the top of your jean shorts, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin underneath. Your lips found his again, tongues clashing together. His soft fingers grazed the skin underneath your panties and you gasped at the contact. Jack shifted one of his hands to your back, stroking it softly.
"I feel like this is more for the bedroom, no?" You whispered, pressing your lips against his feverishly. He only hummed in response before opening the door and swiftly carrying you into the house. As the front door closed, Jack pressed you up against it, cock grinding into you. He moaned, clashing his lips against yours again. You tighted your legs around his waist, hands roaming his chest. Panting, Jack locked the front door and rushed to the bedroom.
"Tell me if I need to stop, ok?" Jack whispered. You nodded as he gently laid you on the bed. You groaned softly, missing the contact of his body against yours as he stood up to take his shirt off.
"Don't cry darling, I'll make you feel good in just a moment." Jack grinned, hand clasping at the hem of your shirt. You shimmied to help him out just a little as he pulled your shirt off. Jack softly settled his hips between your legs, hands falling beside your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to your lips before trailing down to the sensitive part of your neck.
"You smell so good, pretty girl." Jack murmured, teeth grazing your collarbone.
"Mmm, its my perfume." You respond, nails softly dragging up and down his back. Jack sunk his teeth around the bone, not enough to hurt but just enough to leave a mark.
"I like it. You should wear it more often my love." He groans, trailing one hand down to palm himself. You whimpered out and moved one of your own hands to replace his.
"Babe, will you let me help you?" You suggested, hands dipping below the waistband of his sweats. Jack only nodded and swallowed hard as you slowly pushed down his sweatpants. His cock sprung free and slapped his lower stomach with impressive length, the tip bright pink and leaking with precum. Your eyes slowly traveled up, taking in his insanely toned body. He was trimmed but not clean shaven, just how he knew you liked it.
"My handsome boy, aren't you being so good for me?" You teased, hands caressing his sides. Jack's blush only deepened as he leaned in and kissed you. He tugged down your shorts, revealing a skimpy lace thong you planned on surprising him with tonight. His breath caught in his throat when he saw them, fingers running over them gently. The sight of them made his cock twitch, making it impossibly more hard.
"When'd you get this? You look sexy in it babe." Jack said, nose bumping against your jaw. His hands fondled with the delicate fabric of them.
"I wanted them to be a surprise for later, but things changed." You grinned, half lidded eyes gazing down at his face. Jack didn't respond, but his hands pulled down the fabric. His gaze was fixed on how wet you were already. His thumb ghosted over your clit, making you jump at the contact. Jack looked up through his lashes, his hair falling in his eyes. You pushed him off and rolled over, pulling him underneath you. His hand flew to your face as you trailed your lips over his chest, down to his abs and lower stomach. Jack hissed as your lips drew near his cock, hand tightening its grip on your face lightly.
"S-Shit baby...Please don't tease me anymore, I need you." Jack whimpered, hand moving to the back of your head. You smiled up at Jack and ghosted your breath over his cock.
"Just because you're just so sweet, handsome." You replied, tongue dragging up his shaft. He let out a soft moan, eyes falling shut and eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly going down on him and hollowing out your cheeks as you come back up. One hand goes down to cup his balls, the other to caress the rest that you can't take. Jack's soft moans continued as you worked, climbing more and more loud. One of his hands gripped his navy blue comforter and the other was tangled in your hair, guiding you down. He almost fainted when you went to suck his balls, eyes lifting to make contact with his. They stayed connected as you went back down on him. His hand stopped you from continuing to suck him off, which made you raise an eyebrow.
"I-I wouldn't have lasted..." Jack explained, cheeks turning red with embarassment as he looked away.
"I know my sweet boy. You were just being so good and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate it." You smiled, standing up and placing a kiss to his cheek. Jack turned back to face you, glancing down at how close your pussy was to his cock.
"Will you uh...will you ride me?" He asked, eyes darting away from you.
"You don't have to ask, sweetheart." You laughed, pressing another kiss to his cheek, then one to his lips. You climbed onto the bed and over on top of him, watching him as his eyes tracked your movements like a hawk. Jack's hand gripped his cock, helping you guide yourself down. His breath caught as you slowly pushed his tip in your dripping cunt. Slowly you sank down, letting out a loud whine as his tip pressed into your cervix. Jack gasped and screwed his eyes shut, hands flying to your waist to help guide you. You rolled your hips once, twice, finding a good rhythm for you as you adjusted to him. You then began to bounce, falling foward on his chest, letting him see your tits dangle.
"Oh God, just like that babe." Jack choked out. His breath was erratic, hair a mess, and his blue eyes were clamped shut. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, spare the noises both you and him were making. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, which he returned eagerly. He pressed his tongue against yours as the kiss intensified and his hips began to thrust upwards.
"You're so beautiful, love." Jack gasped, eyes locking with yours.
"I beg to differ, you're even more handsome." You whispered back, moaning out as he hit your cervix again and again. He began to feel that you were getting tired, so he swiftly flipped you, spreading you open underneath him. His hips slapped against yours with intensified speed, quicker than he's gone before.
"Oh fuuuck Jack, oh fuck Jack, please please please.." You begged, tears pricking your eyes as he pounded into you relentlessly.
"My pretty girl, taking me so good. Look at how much of a mess you are underneath me, my love. Want me to fill you up?" Jack said. You honestly didn't think that he was able to spill that much filth from his mouth, but he always surprised you. You nodded and he groaned, leaning down and kissing you as he picked up the pace even more. His hand reached down and began to rub that bundle of nerves, stimulating you even further. Tears fell down your cheeks as you came, your nails clawing down his back over and over. As soon as you came, he chased his own release, spewing his seed inside you with a loud moan. Jack continued to pump himself into you as he slowed his pace.
He pulled out after a moment, watching as his seed dribbled out of you. His hands came and cupped your face as he asked,
"Are you ok, my love? I wasn't too rough was I?"
"No, it was absolutely perfect Jack. It was so sexy how intense you were. I really didn't know something that filthy could come out of your mouth, though." You replied, kissing his palm.
"Honestly, I didn't either." Jack chuckled bashfully.
"Jack."
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"I love you so much, handsome."
"I love you even more, my love."
By the time the two of you had finished, it had begun to really storm outside. The wind shook the house and the rain pelted the windows, but you really couldn't feel more safe than in the arms of your lovers embrace.
