HEDS anon is back with thanks and a not so small request once more <3
(idk why im allergic to typing normal sized requests, im so sorry for the length of this again 😭)
I held off on thanks this time until i could catch my friends again and have them read the oneshot for my last request and all of them giggled like idiots just like i did when they read it, and i wanted to share that 2/3 were asking for your user so they could read more, despite being men and you only really writing for GN/Fem reader. (i actually questioned them on it and their response, in their words, was "We can be pretty princesses too >:(" 😭)
You're getting ready to write a chris multific so now felt like a good time to request something more chris related and obviously being the infamous HEDS anon i have to go down the chronic pain route. I was thinking maybe chris (Any era, Idk what era you're writing the series for so i wanted that to be your choice :] ) with a reader who's overdone it, kinda angsty kinda fluffy?? i accidentally overdid it the other day and ended up having to pull out my trusty old cane to help me get about but it did result in me breaking down over both the pain and irritation that i couldn't just have normal joints and not be chronically ill, and my friends accidentally made it worse by all telling me off for over doing it, so maybe chris getting back from mission, telling off reader over text and then coming home to a breakdown? honestly i wanted you to have almost full rein here im just word spilling at this point lol, but yeah, have fun with it i love your writing sm and i wanna see what you'll do when given pretty much full control on a pain related fic request as another member of the chronic pain crew :)
(random ps just incase: my friends did come over after telling me off to make sure i was okay, they stayed in my guest room and helped me out with basic chores around the house for a few days while my joints recovered which is when i got them to read my last request, they aren't assholes that just shout at me i swear 😭😭)
🫶🫶🫶🫶
Omg yes this was such a cute idea! Also, yes, your guy friends can be pretty princesses with us all lol. I really hope you're doing good! Coming from one cane user to another, it really can suck sometimes.
(also I'm gonna bedazzle my cane this week!! I'm so excited!!!)
Summary: You have chronic pain. Chris texts back at the worst times. Fluffy comfort ensues.
Masterlist
That Bad? - Chris Redfield x Reader
When Chris comes home from his latest mission, he’s already exhausted.
It had been a hellish affair in Alcatraz. Hell, himself and several other had nearly died. But, by some miracle, he had been able to make it home.
It doesn’t help that throughout his mission, in the spare moments he had, he had been texting you, and the conversation had gone worse than he wanted it to. It’s not that he meant to be mean. Of course not. But, between running for his life, fighting a monster the size of a building, and overall having a shitty time, it had been hard to show complete sympathy for your chronic pain flare up.
Baby <3:
I overdid it today
Me: Whatd u do this tme?
Baby <3:
Did a bunch of errands and didnt take a break. Really hurting this time.
Me: Do u have ur cane?
Baby <3:
Ya but you know I hate using it
Me: Then why tf did u overdo it?
Baby <3:
Didn’t mean to.
Me: Be more careful.
At the time, he had realized that he was being less than courteous to your pain, but he truly just hadn’t had the time to respond properly. There had been too much going on.
His heart drops when he steps into the bedroom, and hears quiet sobs.
You’re in bed, curled up with your knees to your chest. Your cane is resting against the wall, metal shining dully in the lamplight. Even in the dim lighting, he can see the tears streaming down your face.
“That bad, hon’?”
Your head jolts up, alert instantly. “Chris! I’m sorry, I-” You take a deep breath, “I didn’t realize you were home”
His head tilts a little as he walks up, outstretching a hand to touch your knee. The flesh is warm to the touch. Ah, so it’s your joints then. They always feel hot when they hurt. He hums an affirmative before speaking again. “... You okay?”
You nod, but it looks like the action pains you. Your eyes are red rimmed, mouth twitching when you move. “I’m fine.”
Chris sighs, sitting beside you, careful not to jostle you on the bed. He’s quick to lean his head against yours, feeling your warm breath fan out against his cheek.
“... I reread those messages on the flight back.” He starts, eyes closing softly, “... I sounded like a real asshole.”
He can feel you adjust your legs with a hiss. He can only imagine the pain splintering through your body right now.
“It’s fine, Chris. You’re right.”
He shakes his head. “No, no. I was a dick. I didn’t mean it the way it came off, okay?” He leans in, kissing beside your eye. It earns him a faint giggle in reward. “I just don’t like it when you’re hurting like this. You know that if you really need help, you can wait til I get home, and I’ll do it.”
You pout a little. “I wanted to to it myself. Be useful, you know?”
A nod, gentle. “And you are useful. But you gotta take it easy.”
Another tear streams down your face. He’s careful to wipe it away with his thumb, the liquid cool against the pad of his digit. Pressed close to you like this, he can feel the heat of your body. Shit, you’ve got to really be hurting.
Another kiss to your cheek. “Do you need anything? Water? Painkillers?”
“Both, please.” The way you say it is shaky, like admitting defeat. It makes him frown.
“Hey…” His voice softens, “It’s okay to need help. I need help all the time. Remember last week, when I couldn’t find the scissors? You helped me then.”
Finally, a laugh. It’s like the sweetest of music to his ears.
“Yeah, because even though we’ve lived here for years, you still don’t know the kitchen layout.”
He’s slow to move away from you, gentle in the way his hands leave you. “You see? You are useful. You just need to take it easy.”
Chris stands, giving a final kiss to your cheek as he goes to fetch you your water.
“Now, let’s get you some pain meds, and then we can finish that movie we started the other night.”
Leon S. Kennedy: Leon thought hey I'm going to do my laundry before the next big mission so he did proud that he got a head of it. Leon had to leave to help Sherry with something and when he came back Leon heard giggling that belonged to his beloved so he follows the giggles to the bedroom and what Leon saw made him stop moving but did make his body react. You are standing in front of the mirror in one of his compression shirts on you even have his gun holster on like he usually wears it
Leon chuckles and speaks. Oh honey look at you I dare say you wear it better than me baby but I bet you would look even better without it.
Y/n giggles then runs because ya no you know that look in his eyes and you are in a world of chaos if he catches you.
Chris Redfield: Chris has been looking for his shirt that goes to his BSSA uniform and he can't find it he has damn near looked everywhere in the apartment ,Chris walks past his bedroom he shares with Y/n he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Y/n wearing his uniform shirt.. how does she make it look better on her then it does on him?!
Chris clears his throat he speaks. Really sweet pea come on now I need my shirt give it to me or do you want me to take it off for you?
Y/n giggles and runs and Chris gives chase ya he's not going to get it back for awhile.
Carlos Oliveria: Carlos knows Y/n is doing some spring cleaning going through stuff they don't need and all that but he didn't expect to come back and to find his wife wearing his old mercenary gear and she makes it look better than he ever did.
Carlos feels hot he shifts and speaks. Ah dios mio you look amazing my esposa you know what you do to me while I would love to see you wear my things all day I do believe it may kill me how about we get you changed hm?
Y/n smiles and speaks. Hm tempting but I like these so I think I will keep them on unless you take them off me but you will have to catch me first handsome.
Before Carlos could speak Y/n runs fast and he gives chase Carlos knows this will be a long chase
Jake Muller: Jake loves his leather jacket a lot he doesn't let anyone touch it well his girlfriend Y/n is allowed to she does take such careful care of it so he was a bit shocked but pleased to see her wearing it when he walked out of the bathroom after showering ya you are in danger there's no saving you.
Jake smirks and calls out. Y/n why are you running?!
Luis Serra Navarro: Luis had managed to save his leather jacket ya there is a stitched up hole in the back but hey he can still wear it and he does when he is not working. Luis comes home from helping Leon out to find his wonder lover wearing his jacket around their house she smiles when she sees him and that's when Luis knows he is a goner because he knows it will be a mini war to get it back but part of him wants you to keep it on because you make it look good really good.
Luis whistles and rumbles out. Dios Mio you look good enough to eat mi vida but you would look so much better without it on don't you say now hm.Why are you running no no come back don't run away?!
Piers Nivans: Piers can't find his BSSA uniform at all it was on the bed and now it's not there he was about to blow a fuse until he sees his sweet girl wearing his uniform his brain stops working. After a bit Piers moves closer and pulls Y/n close by her hips
Piers mutters. Doll I need my uniform now ya know while you look amazing in it but I really need it for work.
Chris missed your anniversary for work. You don’t know what to do anymore, but he’s not going to give up on you that easily.
Warnings: NSFW (+18), smut, some angst, apology sex, praise, whining?
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Chris’ heavy footsteps creak against the floorboards as he steps into the apartment. It’s completely silent; he thinks you’re fast asleep considering the lack of lights coming from the bedroom. But the moment he turns the doorknob, he’s met with your silhouette. It looks like you’ve been standing there for a bit.
“You’re home late.”
You stare at Chris with a hardened expression, the disdain in your voice showed, laced like venom. Your boyfriend can only look at you with apologetic eyes and small murmurs pleading for you to not be upset with him. He approaches you, clad in his shirt and only underwear underneath it— the same one you always wear when he’s gone. Your arms are tightly crossed against your chest like you just physically stuck a wall between you two.
“Baby, I’m sorry, okay?” He coos, strong arms finding their way around your waist. The warmth of his hands seep through the shirt’s cotton, enveloping your skin. Chris’ hands practically swallow your waist whole in the way he holds onto you. He squeezes your hip in an attempt to get your attention.
“Work needed me. Shit hit the fan, I—“
He looks into your eyes in the darkness of your shared bedroom. The two of you notice the tiredness in each other’s eyes caused by completely different reasons. His heart breaks at the sight of the disappointment in your eyes, the way your eyebrows are slightly furrowed. Not angry, not sad. You’re hurt because of him.
“I don’t need a bullshit excuse about why you chose work over me,” you mutter, bottom lip quivering after forcing yourself not to blow up in front of him. Chris sighs, his shoulders drooping.
“I mean— you missed our fucking anniversary, Chris,” you scoff, amused by how the words sound when they leave your mouth. Did he even get you a gift? Or was he too busy for that too?
Your anniversary. You two never actually celebrated together on the exact date because of his work, but he’d find a way to take you out properly no matter what. It was… tolerable, to say the least. This year, it had been two weeks, and Chris kept putting it off because he was just so busy.
You kept checking in. Chris would suggest to reschedule. You check in again, expressing your frustrations. The two of you argue.
It’s a vicious cycle that shouldn’t have been a major problem to begin with. Recently, Chris had been taking on so many missions that he barely had time for you or himself. That was affecting both of you, he knew that much.
Frustration built up so much over time it started to turn into resentment. You didn’t know what to do anymore. You’ve tried so hard to be understanding with him, knowing that he’s doing his best to help others while also caring for the love of his life. You’re starting to doubt if he can still do it.
Chris stares into your eyes, still holding onto you like his life depended on it.
“I did, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have swallowed myself in work.”
“Chris, what you’re doing hurts me. You know that?” you manage to utter out, holding back tears. They sting the corners of your eyes.
“I know, I know…” He steps forward and softly shushes you, pulling you in so your bodies are pressed together. Chris looks down at you fondly.
“I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t cry.”
Your boyfriend cranes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers bunched around your shirt like he was scared you’d vanish the moment he opened his eyes to look back at you. Before you can even process it, Chris sinks down to his knees and kisses your clothed stomach, muttering out loud.
“You know, I’m tired. I just…”
You open your mouth to say something— mostly in protest, but he beats you to it.
“I got you something.”
Chris looks up at you with those half-lidded eyes, hands pressed gently against the plush of your thighs. He reaches behind him, taking out a slim jewelry box from his back pocket.
“Picked it up a week before our anniversary. I know you hate when I have to miss it,” he explains, looking up at you as if searching for any hint of forgiveness in your eyes.
You open the box to see a thin, silver bracelet adorned with stars and a flower on it. Your breath stills, and your gaze falls on Chris. You never expected him to get you anything at all considering how busy he was.
“You really did that?” You ask him in surprise. He stands up, taking the bracelet from you so he can put it on your wrist.
Chris easily towers over you with his large frame. Your heart flutters when you realize— even after being with him so long, he never fails to make your heart race like some teenager in love.
The bracelet is delicately wrapped around your wrist. He clasps it together, and lowers his hands to admire the bracelet on you.
“So beautiful,” he whispered under his breath.
You look up at Chris with a warm expression, almost smiling.
“Thank you.”
Your boyfriend smiles at you, pinning a piece of hair behind your ear.
“Let me take care of you the way you deserve.”
You want to be loved again, to be seen by him like you matter. He wants to give it to you.
He steps forward, then again. You find yourself backed up against the foot of the bed before Chris lays you down on the soft sheets. You can smell the scent of fresh laundry when you hit the bed. His movements are careful, giving you enough time to move away if you wanted to, but you don’t.
You’re letting this continue, and Chris takes it as a sign that you’re not completely upset at him. You’re letting him kiss down your neck and chest— he’s listening to those pretty sounds coming out of your mouth. When your fingers run through his short brown hair, he slowly looks up at you, eyes glossy from just kissing your body. Chris tugs at the hem of your underwear, already pulling them down before you could give him the green light to keep going.
“C’mon, baby…”
You help Chris remove your underwear as you move your hips up, and once they’re off he tosses them on the bed. In the blink of an eye, your boyfriend starts unzipping his jeans and pushing off his clothes like they were a nuisance; in his defense, they were. He groans when he touches himself, already throbbing and aching just for you.
You gasp when he rubs the tip between your folds. It’s already slick with your own fluids, and the fact you can feel how hard he is makes you whine in anticipation. You want him inside you already and it’s killing you. Sparing a glance, your boyfriend gives you a reassuring look before going further. Chris inserts himself deep, and the mere size of him is stretching you out. You both groan at the sensation and your stomach immediately feels full. The two of you hadn’t had sex in a long while; the familiar feeling of him inside you was something that you had almost forgotten.
He let you know he felt the same way too, how good you were making him feel. Chris had a vice-like grip on your hips before inserting himself in you again just to feel how your walls wrapped around him so tight. His fingers pressed deep into your skin so hard you could feel the stinging against your body.
“Good fucking girl… so tight for me.”
Chris let out a heavy grunt before thrusting into you, steady.
You squirm under him from all the pleasure, and he starts to speed up because of it. He sets a relentless pace, barely giving you time to adjust before the pleasure courses through your veins and body. You bite your lip, whining.
“Chris, I can’t—“
He shakes his head when those words leave you.
“No, fucking take it. You’re taking it all for me, baby. You can do it,” Chris grunts, eyes fixed on the way you bounce off him like that.
You feel your stomach already tightening. Chris’ thrusts are getting sloppier, more desperate. He was at his limit and so were you. With blissed out eyes, you manage to look up at Chris who was already looking down at you, making sure you were okay.
“Fuck… not gonna last long, hm?” He mused, scoffing under his breath as he pushed himself deeper into you, hitting that sweet spot over and over that made you moan loud. It feels way too good you can’t even answer him.
Then, you felt it. You throw your head back in awe, gripping onto the sheets as your stomach tightened again. Moans ricochet off the bedroom walls, filling his ears like music.
With a few more thrusts Chris finally watches you come undone below him.
“That’s it,” he mutters under his breath.
From the way your body shakes to the way you bite your lip, your climax hits you like a tidal wave. He feels you clench around him, shamelessly grinding your hips in an attempt to milk out the remaining pleasure he gave you before it disappeared.
He finishes just after you did, warm liquid seeping deep into your stomach. Chris stays inside you as he plops onto the bed. Your limbs and brain feel like mush from the aftermath, sweat and bare skin sticking to you. This was the best you’ve felt in months; neither of you focused on the argument you had just moments earlier.
You can only hear heavy breaths in your ear and the sound of crickets outside. Chris’ arm is draped across your waist, squeezing you tight before pulling out of you. You squirm, and he whispers to you.
“You’re alright, I got you.”
Your boyfriend sits up, admiring the way you looked against the bed sheets— spent and face flushed. He thought you could never look more beautiful than you already were. You stare back at him, chuckling.
“What’s up with you?” You tease, bashfully averting his gaze.
Chris can only smile when you look away from him.
“Nothing. Let’s get cleaned up.”
He helps you off the bed and draws a warm bath for you. It’s domestic, the way he takes care of you after physical intimacy. Chris makes sure to massage your hips when washing your body in hopes to alleviate the pain from his doing. Not that he had any regrets about it when you felt so good beneath him. The scent of citrus soap fills the bathroom, and you almost fall asleep in the middle of him bathing you from how gentle he was.
After you both change into fresh, clean clothes, Chris helps you back into bed. You nestle right under his arm like a puzzle piece slotting against another. He was practically molded for you. Pulling the blanket over your bodies, you press your face into the warmth of Chris’ chest and breathe in his scent.
At this point, the exhaustion was taking a toll on you and you couldn’t fight the sleep anymore. Chris feels the exhaustion creep up on him too. His hand finds your head and plays with the strands of your hair. Almost instantly, you’re fast asleep.
“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing your temple. Chris finally shuts his eyes and lets himself fall asleep.
In a safehouse, with nothing else to do, you, Chris, and Leon share a joint. Trouble ensues, obviously...
tags/warnings: explicit, threesome (f/m/m), Chris and Leon kiss challengers-style, and what if I said I imagined vendetta Chris AND death island Leon???, not edited very thoroughly--purely a heat-of-the-moment sort of thing.
taglist: @cakeofhorrors @rainyxie @venus-in-roses
After the three of you had taken your respective showers, changed into clothes that were not stained with blood and guts and who knows what else, all that was left was to enjoy the amenities of the safehouse until the weather cleared and the team could retrieve you in the morning. Unfortunately, the amenities were limited to one dingy sofa; a coffee table that had one leg shorter than the other three so it tipped under even the lightest weight; and a television that had two channels, neither of which were in English.
Chris sits to your right, scribbling chicken scratch into his field journal. Leon, to your left, stares at the wall, taking in repetitive deep breaths. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch his chest rise and fall against them.
You know there are worse things than being stuck in this sort of limbo, without your electric toothbrush or lavender foot cream, or your favorite roast from the coffee shop down the street from your apartment, but it sure feels like that now. The shower had soap, thankfully, but it dried out your skin while simultaneously leaving a mysterious film all over your body. And the shampoo made your scalp itch.
Something burns a hole in your brain, almost forgotten until you had nearly drawn blood from your shin from scratching the skin so hard and thought about what could give you a quick fix.
With a wicked grin, you lean over to grab your backpack from beneath the short table in front of you. In the side pocket is where you stashed the treasure, you fish around past other miscellaneous items until you feel a paper cylinder beneath the pads of your fingers.
“Woah,” Leon says, drawing out the word as he adjusts his hips, bowing forward to watch you pull the prize from your bag. The sofa cushions are a dingy gray color, the fabric practically coming apart at the seams, the piping fraying. You try not to stare too long lest you imagine what sorts of ills they might have seen. “Where did you get that?”
“Get what?” You coo, feigning ignorance through a wide, toothy smile as you lean back, letting your shoulders and spine slouch against the sofa.
He chuckles darkly, pointing to the joint you’re rolling back and forth between your fingertips. “That.”
“Found it in a drawer while we were sweeping the warehouse.”
You can feel Chris’s attention turn to you, and when you clance over at him, his eyes have grown wide, his hand has stopped writing. He abandons the notebook and pen altogether, leaving them to balance on the armrest.
“Have you ever smoked, Chris? Weed,” you clarify, hinting that you know about the little habit he tries to hide unsuccessfully, failing every time. No midday shower or quick change of clothes can eclipse the scent of tobacco on his skin.
He laughs, a huffy, breathy sound, amused toeing the line of nervousness, and your eyes fall to his palms as he wipes them on his pant legs.
“In high school,” he reveals. “Once or twice. Not a lot since then.”
“And you?”
“In high school, once or twice,” he repeats, leaning in an inch. “And a lot since then.”
Your lips curl upward into a smile, once reflected in Leon’s own face. Chris adjusts behind you, leaning in to join the conversation.
“Didn’t take you for a weed guy,” he says to Leon through a smirk. Leon rolls his eyes, always annoyed when his reputation as a drinker is brought up in conversation, as though not everyone knows it’s his favorite pastime. Chris snickers.
“Either of you boys have a light?” You ask, your voice breaking through the tension between them, leaning once more against the back of the sofa. The two men fumble as they make quick work searching the pockets of their bags. Chris wins, pulling out a lighter from his sack, flickering it on, beckoning you to ignite the joint held taut between your lips.
As he holds the flame to the tip of the joint, you glance up at him through thick lashes, meeting his gaze. The look you give him makes his shoulders shudder slightly, and he gulps hard, brows cinched.
“There you go,” Chris says quietly as you take the first inhale. The earthy, petrichor scent of the drug fills the air almost immediately as you pass the roll to Leon. He pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger, guiding it to his parted lips, taking in a deep breath, filling his lungs to max capacity.
Chris waits patiently, and you sink back to watch Leon pass him the joint, staring intently at the man as he stares intently at the paper in his fingers. As a smoker, he should feel comfortable with the act, yet he hesitates. That is, until he looks over at you, meeting your eyes, and he carries out the decision to take a hit. His eyes close in almost instant euphoria, and you take a moment to study–unwatched–the veins crawling up his forearms, the freckles that dot the skin there, the bulging balls of his biceps and triceps.
Leon is a beautiful man. A blind ass bat could see that. He’s pale and lean, with a face carved by Pygmalion himself. A straight nose, full lips, and eyes that have men and women alike tripping over themselves at the sight.
Chris’s beauty, however, comes from the innate masculinity that surges through each nerve and vein, and seeps through every pore. His shoulders are broad and staggering, his arms boulderous. Even the details of his face drip with rugged handsomeness.
Such thoughts race through the marrow in your bones, searing your skin like the singed tip of the join in your fingers. You banish them immediately, not so high as to relinquish all professionalism. Though, how professional can it be to share a joint with your superiors, who you were just sweeping an abandoned umbrella facility with just a mere five hours ago.
Professionalism be damned. You have one thing, and one thing only, on your mind tonight.
Minutes, though it feels like an eternity, pass as the three of you take turns sucking and puffing, some choked coughs here and there, giggles strewn about in the mix.
“Fuck, it’s been a while,” Chris gasps, beating his heart once with the butt of his fist. He coughs lightly before falling back against the sofa. Leon, beside you, chuckles, taking another hit.
“It’s good, huh?” He asks, the question pointed to no one in particular. Neither of you answer. You can feel yourself melting into the sofa, your body melding to the fibers of the cushion.
Grosssssss.
It feels sticky, and yet like nothing at all. You feel like nothing at all.
The corners of your eyes go blurry, and it’s as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, the weight that keeps you tethered to earth. And now, as you contest the laws of nature, gravity be damned, you begin to float. Like a cirrus of mist and humidity just hovering in the atmosphere among the stars.
“Are you guys friends?” You ask, voice as sweet as cherry syrup in a chilled shirley temple, the kind your grandmother used to serve up on a balmy summer evening.
Chris and Leon sit up in unison, both on the edges of their cushions, both looking down at you from beneath furrowed brows.
They exchange a glance, eyes quickly cutting back to you.
“Sure,” Leon says.
“Sort of,” Chris spits at the same time.
“You ever done this before? Together?”
Another glance between them.
“Get high?” Leon asks in confirmation.
“Make love to the same girl,” you correct.
Chris’s almond eyes shoot open, the golden flakes in his chocolate brown irises catching in the low light filtering through the fixture above your heads.
Leon chokes on his own saliva, palm coming to his sternum. “Come again?”
You giggle, shaking your head at the double entendre. “You heard me.”
“Like a…” Chris’s voice trails off as he musters up the courage to say the word flashing like a neon sign in all of your cotton-stuffed heads. “Threesome.”
Ding, ding, ding.
All you give is a cheeky nod, and it’s the only permission Leon needs to race down to your neck and begin planting sloppy, open-mouthed kisses there. You mewl at the sensation of his teeth kneading your flesh, and when you cut your eyes to Chris, he’s watching with something intelligible written across his face. The whites of his eyes are glossy, mottled with tiny red lines, and his brows are knit together, leaving two deep creases in the skin between them.
Frustrated with how long it is taking him to react, you grab his hand and place it in between your thighs. As Leon continues his ministrations at your neck, Chris glances down at his fingers splayed across the soft, supple flesh stretching out from your pajama bottoms. He bites down on his lower lip in an attempt to garner some of that soldieresque restraint.
His lids screw shut, and he whispers a little prayer to whichever deity watches over those who struggle with self-control in the presence of a beautiful woman. A woman who wants him.
They don’t answer, so Chris is left to his own devices. Fuzzy-brained, and loose-handed, he begins to palm at the meat of your thighs, taking a moment to appreciate your skin before he presses them apart. One of your knees goes to recline across Leon’s lap, the other opens toward Chris.
Before he can do anything about it, however, you grab his jaw, bringing his lips to yours. They’re softer than you expected, though the stubble that frames them is scratchy against your skin. Leon plants kisses up and down the length of your neck, working his way up your jaw, to your cheek.
“Holy shit,” Leon curses against your face.
“Fuck,” Chris swears at your ear.
Their voices are hot, melting your innards, and you feel an all-too-familiar gush of arousal begin to pool at your seam, spreading across the cotton gusset of your panties.
You lean up to wrap one arm around each of their necks, bringing the three of you closer than you’ve ever been before. Both Chris and Leon have their eyes slammed shut in pleasure, in the anticipation of ecstasy, and all you have to do is remove yourself from them and lean back, and with absence of a third set of lips, their mouths meet each other’s.
You watch with thumping hearts in your eyes as the two men attack each other’s faces, their lips meeting in a volcanic union of teeth and tongue. Chris’s hands wrap around Leon’s neck, fingers weaving through his cropped, blonde strands. In turn, Leon grabs his arms, his digits struggling to wrap themselves around Chris’s bulging girth.
Perhaps it’s Chris who first realizes that your hair has suddenly changed length, or that your shoulders have grown wider past their feminine delicacy. Or maybe Leon feels the prickly pang of stubble on his chin, big biceps beneath his calloused palms.
Whatever tips them off, it happens too soon for your liking, and their eyes shoot open in an almost cartoonish simultaneity. Once the image of the other man before them ventures through the thick fog of their high, they retreat from the other’s grasp, blinking heavily before turning to look down at you.
You can’t help but giggle. “Don’t stop on my account.”
hmmm thought of something to get you inspired plus you write too well for me not to give this idea to you 😉
chris x brat reader
they had an argument the night before and in the morning chris went to work so as payback brat reader goes on shopping spree spends his money and chris at work keeps seeing his notifications pop up with money being taken out so when he comes home he teaches her a lesson
might or might not be inspired by the fact I got mad at my situationship and spent his money
thank you darling! you always come up with the best ideas, I swear!
this was so much fun to write--you know I love Chris!
Leon S. Kennedy: Y/n had been alive for a very long time and Leon is the only man who she's ever loved and Leon makes her happy so when the pregnancy test came back positive it was a shock but not unwelcome. Y/n was more nervous than Leon if that is even possible yes she's been alive for a very long time and has seen and done a lot of things in her time but being a mother that is new but watching Leon smile so widely so happy that his heart is so full you know this is the best damn thing to ever happen.
Chris Redfield: Chris loves kids but had never thought about having any of his own but when Y/n told him she is pregnant Chris's mind went into mission mode making sure everything in the house was safe for you to be around while this was him over doing it you understood why he is doing so. Chris has since refused to leave Y/n alone because you never know when there is a B.O.W or psycho scientist around the next corner.
Jake Muller: Y/n was never to keen on the idea of babies and kids yes she is okay with them but having them is something she was always on the fence about but when she ends up pregnant it stirs up feelings Y/n much rather not feel fear and vulnerable but Jake when she told him the smile that bloomed over his face the pure joy Y/n couldn't take that away even if she was scared.
Albert Wesker. Funny you think Y/n would let this man touch her in any way and if it did happen he would never meet that baby
Carlos Oliveria: Y/n loved babies and kids hell in the past during the witch trials she did have a son who was sadly killed after being convicted of witchcraft since then Y/n never thought of having anymore well until she met Carlos and married him. When Y/n told Carlos she was pregnant the pure joy in her husbands eyes made the fear melt out of her heart and seeing how much joy and protectiveness coming from Carlos made Y/n open up more to the idea of being a mother once more.
Luis Serra Navarro: Y/n and Luis had agreed on being neutral about kids if it happens it happens if it doesn't it doesn't they weren't actively trying but when Y/n fell pregnant Luis was overjoyed with the fact he's getting this chance in life to show how he has changed and that he can be a amazing father even though he is a bit scared and nervous about the fact he will have a son or daughter who will need him.Y/n had always been in hiding so the idea of having a child odd to her but very welcomed she loves Luis and the idea of having his child brings her joy.
Your husband comes home from a mission and you realize his boots need a good shining
“Keep movin’, baby.”
Chris is sitting on the sofa, arms stretched across the back of it, his hips rolling, aching for release as you grind down onto his boot. He loves the little moans and squeaks that leave your parted lips, the twinkling sounds only making the throbbing pain in his cock grow that much stronger. But he’ll be patient…at least until you finish all over the leather–that dusty leather you said needed a good shining. Then, he’ll take you to the bedroom and fuck you like he wants.
“That’s it.”
You wrap your arms around his leg, pushing against the mass of his calf to lower yourself even further onto the slope of his boot. Your clit throbs, screaming for mercy as you grind back and forth, increasing the pressure with each movement.
You bite down, gnashing your teeth to prevent the scream in your throat from rising to the surface.
“No,” he growls, voice turning dark. “Let me hear it.”
But you can’t help it. Somehow, the climb toward your pleasure has left you dumb, struck with a bout of mutism as your brain just can’t tell your tongue to speak.
You continue grinding down onto the hard-shell of the leather, chasing the euphoria your body knows and craves. And it comes quick.
“Let me hear you,” Chris barks again, recognizing the way your back arches as you’re close to your climax, the way your abdomen tenses, your eyes screwing shut.
Who are you to not obey your husband, the good, loving man he is? So you scream. You let every moan and gasp leave your chest as your orgasm erupts, the gush coating the dusty leather like molten lava spewing out of the mouth of a volcano.
“Good job, baby,” he praises as his hands move to your head, as he weaves his fingers through your hair. You slump down, resting your cheek on his denim-clad knee.
He cups the other side of your face in his large, calloused palm, and lifts your chin. Sharp blue eyes glance down at you, drinking up the sight of your dewy skin, the rosy glow flushing your cheeks, the swell of the bottom lip you were gnawing on as you swallowed down your moans. He’ll have to punish you for that, but against his better judgment, and because you did so good, he thinks he’ll go easy on you tonight.
“Think you can take some more?”
You look up at him, crystals in your puppy-wide eyes, and nod.
