𝓛𝓲𝓵𝔂 ⋆ 23 ⋆ she/her ⋆ horniest angel in south america! ⋆ MDNI .ᐟ ♡
masterlist
𖦹 Resident Evil
♡ test bunny - stripper!reader x doctor!zeno wesker
˚⋆ summary: on a particular slow day at the club, your favorite customer had a… rather unusual proposition for you. smut .ᐟ˚⋆ oneshot
♡ desperate! - reader x leon kennedy˚⋆ summary: spring’s here, and your days of hopeless eternal loneliness appear to be counted as the hottest man you've ever seen moves to your suburban neighborhood!
˚⋆ multichapter story - wip
𖦹 you can find my fics for other fandoms in my AO3 profile ♡
Pairing: club!Blue Jones x fem!reader
Summary: Blue Jones was a sensible man: he knew damn well that you and the other girls of his club were plotting something behind his back. Regardless, Babydoll’s escape plan couldn’t succeed without the master key, and now, a gun. Naturally, you’d think that she, being Blue’s favourite, should retrieve those items. However, surprisingly enough, you were chosen for the task, as the girls reassure you that Blue adores you the most. Without a second option, you decide to seduce him with your body and get the final possessions. Praying that he’d take interest in you. No matter what it took.
Word count: 4.4k
Content warnings: dark romance, POV Second person, power imbalance, sadism/masochism, gun kink, choking, boss/employee relationship, obsessive/possessive behaviour, smut (MDNI), hate sex, possessive sex, dom!Blue (though he switches back and forth), vaginal fingering, no use of Y/N for reader-insert (but reader is given a nickname/stage name), not beta-read.
જ⁀➴ ♡ General masterlist
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Tags: @have-you-seen-my-sanity @wspia @rachelwashere @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
Ao3
A/N: I knooow that Blue said that he doesn't like guns and that our baddies didn't need a gun but listen... I'm stressed, horny and tired, so let me enjoy myself a lil... Anyway he's so sick and twisted... This is so "He's my man" by Luvcat coded (I say while writing every fic).
Hopefully this will be a fun lil read, sorry that this is lowk rushed, I needed to get this oneshot out of my damn head before it actually had the chance to kill me abdakbsjk— Also, I kind of liked this concept so I might make a longer fic out of this idea!
“Let us mix the Erotes’ (Loves’) rose with Dionysos [Wine]: let us fasten on our brows the rose with its lovely petals and drink, laughing gently. Rose, finest of flowers, rose, darling of spring, rose, delight of the gods also, rose with which Kythere’s (Cytherea’s) [Aphrodite’s] son [Eros] garlands his lovely curls when he dances with the Kharites.”
—The Anacreontea, Fragment 44
Knock. Knock.
Your hand dropped to your side as you impatiently waited for a manly voice to answer from the other side of the door.
A loud exhale left your chest.
The cool air brushed your skin, flowing underneath the almost translucent slip dress that barely covered your privates. Perfectly displaying your body, emphasising all of you to the eyes of the beholder. Silky hold-ups tightly wrapped your thighs, and heels forced you to stand taller than before. You were dressed as if getting ready for bed, though with a promiscuous intent, because there was a special someone you had to seduce.
That was the crucial part of the plan—you had a responsibility to fulfill, to be strong and stand up for every woman that now relied on you. You especially had to find the strength for yourself.
Babydoll’s escape plan was nearly complete as you and the remaining girls gained a map, a lighter, and a knife. All you needed was the master key of the brothel, and, to your misfortune, now a gun.
Essentially, you imagined that Babydoll would be the one to retrieve the final objects, as she was Blue’s favourite. Instead, all of the girls decided that it was you who needed to retrieve them in one go.
Your heart was beating in your ears; you had a hard time standing on your feet. Your body shook, making you question whether this reaction was the consequence of the coldness or stress.
Naturally, you overthought this plan because you had never stood out among the other girls. You weren’t a top dancer, but neither a back-up dancer. You weren’t talented, but neither were you unskilled. You weren’t sexual, but neither were you ugly. You just weren’t special, and it kept you safe from the eyes of perverts that frequently visited the club. Surprisingly, you didn’t even have a stage name. However, it meant that you never caught Blue’s attention. You knew that he fawned over Babydoll, the star of the show. It didn’t bother you whatsoever, in fact, you were glad to be out of his view. Though now that fact proved your disadvantage.
Therefore, you couldn’t understand why you were sent to complete the task. Sure, every girl fulfilled her role in this mission, Babydoll especially, but you were nearly certain that it’d fail because of you. Blue Jones was a sensible man; the fact that he was onto you all made you nauseous. He’ll smell your anxiety and shoot you in the head.
However, the girls insisted that it was you he adored the most. You tried rationalising that fact for the love of God, as Blue had nothing to do with you. Not even once he had come to the studio to watch you dance, nor had he ordered you to bring him something, to please his clients. You didn’t even know if he truly remembered your name. Not that it was a bad thing, at least before, yet now you prayed that he’d recognise you.
You knocked on the door again, eagerly this time.
You. Had. To. Make. It. Work—
“Come in!”
Speak of the Devil.
With a painful gulp, you welcomed yourself into Blue’s office, turning down your natural glare.
Every time you had a chance to look at him, hatred coiled inside your chest. Directed at him only.
He didn’t even look up at you when you closed the door behind yourself, or at least it seemed like it, as his slim glasses covered his pupils. His attention was entirely dedicated to the papers on his desk; maybe he was calculating the finances, planning arrangements.
Nonetheless, you stood as if impaled on a pole. You knew well enough not to overstep his boundaries—you didn’t need to be punished in a crucial moment.
“Well? What do you want?” Blue rushed you while rubbing his moustache; it sounded like you disturbed him.
“Sir, I have a favour to ask,” you started, somehow managing the tremble of your voice and stepping closer.
Even the clicks of your heels didn’t bring his attention to you.
At this point, you had no doubts that your plan wouldn’t work, but you had to push through it. You prayed to every god existing in the universe to guide you through this terrible idea. Eros, especially Eros, hoping that the god of love and lust will sort this situation out for you.
“Go on,” Blue responded briefly. The frown of his brows deepened with every sound you made.
Only when your shadow fell on top of him did he raise his gaze. You found a pinch of surprise in his expression—good sign. Surely, it must have been the seductive appearance that drew him in, making him place his pen beside the scribbled papers. His eyes gave their utmost attention to the perk of your breasts, the clear outline of your practically naked body, the marvelous skin.
He licked his upper lip in thought. “Well?”
“I have this problem…” you said. Humiliating yourself, but with a purpose of luring him. You lifted your dress only slightly, revealing lace panties. “I need this problem taken care of… My fingers aren’t enough to make me cum and I just don’t know what to do with myself—”
“Come here,” Blue commanded, pulling back his chair. His breath quickened, chest rising and falling visibly while his hand patted his knee impatiently. “Sit.”
You almost managed to suppress a smile, disbelieving that he’d give in so easily. You expected a rejection, to be yelled at, or be told to please a client instead.
Without needing to hear the order coming out of his mouth for the second time, you swiftly came around his desk and seated yourself on his lap.
Immediately, Blue’s calloused hands slithered around your body, unable to contain themselves from the present that was placed right in front of him. His fingers straightened the folds of your dress, circling around every inch of your torso. Maybe he tried to suppress the shivering of his fingers as you felt light vibrations underneath his touch. It was rough, pressing down your flesh almost uncomfortably, painfully. You couldn’t possibly fathom the reaction you had so easily managed to induce.
He licked his lips, as if battling with something. “Tell me what you want me to do. I can’t hear your thoughts…”
You brushed your palms over his shoulders and down his arms, then up again, finally landing on his chest. You had to do everything in your power to make him unaware of his surroundings, so you slowly rolled your hips to create some friction against his erection, which, to your delight, already seemed to ache for an intimate touch.
Your success was astonishing so far.
You pressed yourself against his body, gliding your hands down his torso, and leaning closer.
“Sir, I want you to touch me. I want to be filled up so badly, I can’t take it anymore,” you practically moaned into his ear, hoping that he’d take the bait. “I tried stuffing my fingers inside but they’re too tiny… I need something bigger, warmer, something real. I want you, Sir, no one else. You know, I was dreaming about you the other night and I…”
“Tell me more about this dream,” he groaned, trying to contain stability in his voice.
His body shivered so badly at your touch, you could feel it, no matter how much he tried to control it and show you his disinterest. He probably wanted to grind himself into you as well, but how could a powerful man like him melt in your embrace so easily?
“I had a dream last night where you fucked me. It felt so good, I was so sad to wake up!—”
“And what did I do to you? In your dream?” he interrupted, squeezing your asscheeks roughly.
“Well I…” That simple action caught you off-guard, yet, you needed to continue the show and think of something quickly. Your hands did their best to detect where the needed objects hid. “You fucked me so roughly here, on this desk. You folded me in half. I thought I’ll pass out—”
“Did I? Really?” he breathed out against your neck, resisting to place kisses on it. You felt something damp land against the skin of your neck—it was his sweaty forehead. “And what did you do when you woke up?”
“I masturbated because I really wanted to feel you inside…” you whimpered, pulling yourself even closer, if possible, to his hot body. His cock was rubbing against your sex; surprisingly, it felt pleasant.
“Really? Oh— You poor thing,” he cooed into your ear.
“I was so scared to disturb you… I know that you’re so busy, I hope I’m not taking much of your time—”
“No.” Finally, he kissed your bare shoulder, gently pushing the straps out of his field. “Not at all, I’m more than happy to help you. I know how hard it can be; I know how all of that suppressed… Energy can hurt you. You poor thing, let me take care of you…”
You threw your head back, giving him access to kiss all over you.
Your chances rose up—something hard caught on your fingertips, right under his jacket. Your fingers gently drew around its outlines. A gun; he was hiding a gun inside an inner pocket.
Blue lavished over your neck, running his fingers over your body, and rutting against you like it hurt him. But you didn’t care.
You breathed in as your hand sneaked inside his jacket.
The kisses he had planted over your skin were desperate and wet, even passionate somehow. It made you wonder whether you truly managed to seduce him, but you didn’t overthink it as you’ve successfully managed to pull his gun out.
You carefully snuck your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into your embrace.
To him, it was a signal that he could continue, play with your body however he wished; to you, it was a way to hide the heavy pistol behind his back.
You were ready to endure his scorching touches; fortunately, your overwhelming joy numbed your senses. You didn’t feel his soft lips landing on your skin, or his rigid hands massaging your flesh, creeping past your dress. You couldn’t comprehend how his fingers caressed your breasts, giving special attention to your sensitive nipples, and how they then ran down to your hips. Sure, it felt nice, but it didn’t make you breathe louder, though your panties felt damp probably by reacting to the physical sensations.
Perhaps you were used to being touched by men you didn’t care about. You were used to men violating your flesh for pleasure; it didn’t feel any different.
Your wrist ached from the weight forcing it down.
That’s why your mind was preoccupied by more important thoughts, for example, how you could obtain the last object: the master key—
You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, pushing your face into Blue’s neck as something suddenly plunged inside of you.
Something drew itself in and out slowly, teasing your pussy in a slow but steady rhythm.
It nearly made you drop the gun that you held onto desperately.
You only then realised that Blue snuck two of his fingers inside, stretching you. How and when—you didn’t remember. The sly smirk plastered on his face was sadistic, but his eyes behind those slim glasses seemed interested in observing your shifting reactions.
To your disadvantage, your arms loosened their grip and fell to his shoulders.
The gun was exposed to his sight.
His fingers stopped their rhythm, though they were drawn deeply inside of you.
“What’s this all about?” he asked you quietly, yet with distinctive frustration in his voice.
“In my dream— We—” you stuttered, thinking of an immediate excuse. Subconsciously, you rolled your hips, guiding yourself on his fingers; it made you moan even in a dire moment. “We— We used it—”
“Oh really? How?” He got closer to your face, searching for deceit. He didn’t blink, but didn’t show obvious distrust. In fact, he managed to conceal all of his underlying disappointment.
Even then, he breathed deeply against your face—still seemingly aroused by the course of action, maybe even more than before.
“Well…” You stared at the gun in your hand for a split second, suddenly gaining control over your body. Then you’ve generated a mimic, looking up at Blue with artificial lust as you rode his fingers proudly.
You didn’t want to point the gun at yourself, fearing that it might give him some dangerous ideas. Surely enough, you’d end up dead either way, so you tried your luck, moaning out a bit too dramatically, “I held it against your head in my dream.”
Blue stayed silent for a minute before laughing with the nastiest grin you’ve ever seen, “Oh really? Show me how.”
Luckily, you were in a creative mood, pressing the tip of the gun against his lips while licking your own. “I asked you to clean it. It’s dusty.”
Blue’s breath hitched for a second.
You mentally told yourself you were dead the second you decided to be bold.
To your surprise, you noticed his face flush in bright red, feeling his hand gripping your hip a bit tighter while the other glided the inserted fingers in and out of you again. His bulge twitched against your clit, making you almost sigh in relief.
Blue parted his lips and licked the tip of the pistol, rolling his tongue over the muzzle, front sight and other expressed brims. Then he used his mouth to suck off the slide.
The wet squelches of your sex, the provocative view, the dark beam behind those glasses; the way his two fingers rhythmically thrusted in and out of your pussy, curling in spots that you didn’t know existed, stretching the spongy walls from time to time; how his hardness caused friction against your clit made you lose your mind.
You never moaned, never threw your head back with a silent prayer for more, never felt so much pleasure from other than masturbating in utter darkness. Never did a man make you feel this good.
Not that they could’ve touched you so intimately. This was the first time when someone, besides yourself, had their fingers up in your wet hole. You never knew why you were prohibited from pleasing Blue’s clients through sex. The only thing you did endure were kisses all over you, dicks rubbing against your body. But nothing more.
Only in this moment did you realise the odd circumstances; you almost pulled the trigger on Blue as you daydreamed, and felt the unknown desires seeping deeper into your bones.
Not for a second did Blue peel his gaze away from you, staring at you intently.
You didn’t know what to make out of it: was it love or possessiveness?
“I never gave you a name,” he groaned, though it sounded like a whimper. “What should I call you?”
He pushed the leaking gun away with his cheek and feasted on your neck instead, later moving up to your ear. “What if I called you Rose? Rose Petal? Wanna know why?”
You didn’t reply, only clenching onto his shoulder desperately.
Then you whined when his fingers suddenly stopped.
You looked at him at last, pleading to continue with that sad shimmer in your eyes.
Blue pouted, cupping your cheek and rolling his thumb along your lower lip. “You need to give me a signal. Anything. I don’t know when you want me to talk! So, let me repeat myself one more time, do you wanna know why I’d call you Rose Petal?”
You nodded eagerly, trying to ride his fingers again, but it was difficult to do so.
His touch burnt you; you hated him so much for teasing you and making you beg for more. You hated him with all of your heart for who he was, and yet—why did that soft caress on your cheek feel so right? Why did he bring himself so close to your face, almost kissing your lips? Why did his eyes, that were usually filled with so much mischief, were now of a wounded animal?
You wept from joy when his fingers stretched you again, moving in and out repeatedly. You were about to drop your head on his shoulder, but his hand firmly held your lower jaw in place; his eyes caught yours.
His voice was filled with some kind of longing, gentleness, as if he were on the verge of tears, “You are so beautiful, so delicate. Like a flower. But even more delicate… Would you believe me if I told you that I couldn’t let anyone else have you? I was so scared, so scared that those brutes would break you… You’re so fragile, so delicate, so soft. Like a petal. And what’s more sexual and symbolic than a rose? You— You— Even your pussy feels like a flower… Your folds, your insides are so soft. You smell so— Oh? Did you just clench around my fingers?”
Your body did react to his words; never had you heard Blue speak to anyone like that, though your mind had difficulty understanding him completely. You felt a knot forming in your lower abdomen, as you rode his fingers and grinded yourself against his clothed erection. With one hand you squeezed his bicep, maybe harshly, while the other pressed the tip of the gun to his temple.
A pathetic whine left your lips when he suddenly removed his fingers, stripping you out of pleasure.
However, that heartwarming moment greatly contrasted with reality when he slammed you onto his desk. That sudden force and pain made you drop his gun next to your head; you were thankful that it didn’t go off by accident.
The temporary ache in your back was quickly forgotten when Blue rose those sticky fingers to his mouth, licking them off cleanly. A tongue ran over his lips, collecting the remaining juices of your sex; now his gaze was as malicious as before. It reminded you of the passionate contempt in the depths of your heart.
And yet, you didn’t stop Blue from pulling your fragile dress over your chest, exposing your body to his hungry eyes, or from sliding off your panties.
His rough hands placed your thighs over his shoulders, folding you in half. Just like you’d described. You glanced down at him, realising that you didn’t notice when he removed his glasses, threw away his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, or pulled down his trousers, aligning his leaking cock with your entrance.
Without a warning, Blue shoved himself inside of your pussy.
The sensation of your insides being stretched by a thick hot cock overwhelmed you, forcing out a mixture of a hiss and a moan from your throat. It felt so much different compared to his fingers. Not to mention that this angle allowed him to push himself even deeper.
He thrusted in and out of you slowly at first, teasing himself more than you. “Now, Rose Petal, the gun. Pick it up,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
Overwhelmed by the contradicting emotions, the heat and proximity, and your racing thoughts, you couldn’t understand his words, feeling how the world was spinning. Even your vision blurred.
That must have irked him, as he slammed himself into you harshly with every spelt word:
“Pick. Up. The. Gun!”
Your sensitive walls burnt from pain; your shaky hand immediately grasped the pistol beside you.
“To my head,” he commanded again. “C’mon…”
You obeyed without wasting another second, pressing the tip of the gun against his forehead.
“Good, very good,” he moaned, dragging out the ‘o’. Blue’s eyes rolled back into his skull as his hips sped up the pace. “I know that you fucking hate me. All of you do. I know how much you want me dead. You’re thinking about it, I know you do—”
You were confused, overfilled with pain and pleasure as he used your body to chase his own pleasure. Your hand shook while holding up the weapon.
“Pull the trigger,” he breathed out silently.
Your insides clenched around his cock; you were afraid that he might be testing you.
That made him upset again, as he slammed harshly with each word, gasping for air:
“I said… Pull. The. Fucking. Trigger!”
You fought back against his command at first, feeling way too scared to commit to it. However, you had no other choice as Blue decided to hit your cervix repeatedly, making you cry in pain. He was pushing you over the edge, forcing you to submit to his design.
Overwhelmed by the varying feelings, you accidentally pulled the trigger.
For a moment, you expected to hear a loud bang, for blood to splash all over your face.
But nothing happened.
There were no bullets in the magazine of the pistol.
That made you disappointed, so you pulled the trigger again and again, hoping to hear a shot. You partially wished to see him dead; you wondered whether it was truly worth risking your life to get a gun with no bullets.
Unless Babydoll had them.
That visible rage in your face, and tears of frustration in your eyes, seemed to arouse Blue, as he moaned loudly, “Disappointed, aren’t you?”
He pounded inside of you with less force—in an attempt to rub the spots that numbed both the previous pain and your hatred. To finally make love to you, to show you how well he knew your body and cared about your pleasure.
“You really wanted that gun to go off, huh? Wanted to blow my brains out, yea? Wanted to see me dead? You think I don’t know what you’re actually thinking about?”
You dropped the gun beside yourself again just to drag your nails over his back, in part upset that you couldn’t claw at his bare skin. You wanted to hurt Blue because you despised him. You wanted to tear him apart while he gave you all he had.
“You hate me so much,” he whispered, making you glare at him. “I know what you and the other girls are plotting against me. How could you leave me?.. Especially when I care about you so much! When I did my best to protect you from all of the perverts that begged me to give you up! Oh— Rose Petal, my angel, I couldn’t do it— You’d make me so much money— But how could I give you up when even I didn’t allow myself to play with you? I need you so much… You have no clue how happy your little request made me. I masturbated to that idea for so long… I don’t know how much longer I could’ve lasted without you, your body— I— I wanted you for too long. I watched you when you didn’t even know that I was beside you. When you sleep, when you eat, when you dance… Bathe… Get dressed, get ready… You are so… Perfect, so beautiful. So delicate… Oh—”
But you couldn’t handle it. Your hands slithered around his neck and squeezed it, making him yelp in surprise.
Even then, he choked out, “O-Oh, you— H-Harder… Do it— Harder— Show me how m-much you hate me!”
And you listened, obediently tightening your grip and watching him struggling in your grasp.
However, Blue neared his body towards yours and the master key dangled over your chest. It restored your faith in Eros; yet, your focus quickly shifted to Blue pressing himself against you, pushing your legs over your head and snapping his hips into your pussy ferociously.
His tongue darted out, poking your lips. You denied him at first, but essentially gave into the temptation, realising that you still needed to distract him in order to obtain the final possession.
Secretly, you wanted to feel his lips clashing against yours, to feel his tongue dancing with yours, exploring your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, taking all of his remaining breath.
Oh, his hands holding your thighs in place, his smell, the weight of his body crushing you, the gentle scratches of the papers behind your back, his lips on yours, the slapping skin and that deep penetration—all of it drove you mad.
Blue shook from the lack of oxygen in his body, his face turning from red to purple, but he still didn’t want to stop you from choking him.
When your blurry gaze finally focused, you saw his eyeliner running down his cheeks.
Combining the overwhelming sensations running in and around your body, the previous feeling of an approaching orgasm took over you, making you clench around his length involuntarily and cry in his embrace out loud.
“I-I love you,” he choked out against the plush of your lips, sobbing, but you still held onto his neck firmly. “So— So!..”
Then Blue let out a sound of a muffled moan or a groan, maybe even a pathetic whimper, pushing his length into you completely for the last time while your insides spasmed, making you see white.
Amid your own climax, one of your hands released his neck and searched for the master key that rested on your breasts. You quickly broke the fragile chain, securing the desired object in your palm.
At last, you enjoyed the last seconds of the intense pleasure overriding your body, and the feeling of Blue’s lips caressing your face, his cock twitching inside your desperate pussy while it milked him dry.
To enjoy the last second of passion with your cursed lover, kissing him on the lips for the last time, tasting the salty drops of sweat on his moustache.
Creating a memory for the whole eternity.
When his body gave out from the release of unspeakable pressure and crisis of oxygen, you pushed him off to the floor. Luckily, he didn’t have the strength to restrain you.
You pulled your dress down, panties up, and picked up the worthless, sticky gun. You double checked whether the master key remained in your other hand.
And you ran as much as your weak legs and high heels allowed you, slamming the door behind yourself, not even bothering to look back at the man that you both hated and lusted over at the same time.
Now your life could be better than this.
And you only prayed that your sacrifice was worth the price; though you’d secretly do it again, and again, just to feel his touch again.
Credits for the dividers: @uzmacchiato @cursed-carmine @cillmequick
test bunny .ᐟ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ reader x zeno wesker nsfw
˚⋆ summary: On a particular slow day at the club, your favorite customer had a… rather unusual proposition for you.
˚⋆ tags: MDNI, stripper!reader x doctor!zeno, medical kink, dom!zeno, sub!reader, smut, overstimulation, pet names, white coats, sex toys, bindings, dubcon, sex pollen trope, human experimentation/research, hand kink, praise kink, teasing, size difference, p in v sex, breeding
˚⋆ w/c: 4k
˚⋆ notes: this was so horny and nasty i hope y'all like it <33
It was another slow day at the club. Some girls twirled lazily around the poles, others had gone backstage to count the few crumpled bills they got, and you sat at the bar, sipping a gin cocktail that probably costed more than whatever lackluster money you got today.
Still, you sat there, one elbow propped on the counter while you ran your manicured nails on your thigh to distract yourself. You were waiting for any opportunity to make enough money to pay for another drink – wishing that maybe one of your few frequent customers would appear, wanting nothing more than a conversation for the price of a hefty bill. Maybe that rich blond guy could show up…
The music boomed loudly and you started feeling light from the alcohol, all the blood rushing to your face. It was around 1 A.M., and the already small crowd dwindled each minute. Well, tonight wasn’t much of a success.
After checking the few worthless notifications on your phone and finishing your drink, you finally got bored enough to give up. You put the phone on your hip under the thong strap, and pushed off the barstool with your Pleasers impacting the dirty worn carpet.
“Hey doll, you payin’ or what?” – The bartender asked, trying to get way too close to you. You shot him a glare, but it didn’t scare him. Maybe it was the pretty makeup, with your dolly false lashes and pouty mouth. He grinned either way.
“Oh, I was just about t—”
“It’s on me.”
A large gloved hand suddenly fell on the counter, a Centurion card under it, and your gaze washed over the body it belonged to. A large silver watch firm on the wrist, a crisp white sleeve shining under the club lights, and a broad, strong chest at your eye level. You felt a clothed hard leg brushing your bare ass as your breath hitched in surprise, feeling suddenly preyed on. But he had a black Amex, and you’ve seen him before.
You turned around and looked up at his face with the biggest eyes you could muster, you stared straight into your reflection on the lenses of his dark sunglasses. You could barely see his eyes through the glass, but you still acted like you could. The corner of his lip raised in a barely-there smirk.
“You’re back.” You said, back pressing the counter as you tried not to glue your body to his. Not a bad idea, though.
“So you do remember me. Or is it my card?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking down at you.
“Could be both, could be neither…” You smiled sweetly, bringing up your elbow to rest on the counter, close to his hand. Close, but not touching. A bait.
You might have caught his eye darting to the newly-exposed side boob, daring to spill from your pink rhinestone bra. His large hand closed gently around your arm, the size difference enough to set a warm ember on your lower stomach.
“May I take you somewhere, sir?” You offered, one of your plastic heels lightly brushing his polished leather shoes.
“Always.”
The private room felt even smaller when he sat on the red cushions. A small circular room, with mirrors on every wall, and a silver pole on the middle reflected the lights coming from the ceiling. He sat comfortably, legs spread and arms resting on the back of the settee. You twirled around the pole, making a show of yourself under his hard gaze, soft skin glittering under the strobing lights.
“Come here.” He called, and your heart started racing. You normally don’t touch customers from the chest down, but him… He was different.
“Why should I?” You teased, playing hard to get while sliding down the pole.
“Doctor’s orders.” His eyes pierced right through the dappled lighting. Maybe you weren’t in a position to object.
With a naughty smile, you got down from the pole platform and stood between his legs, awaiting his orders. God, he was so huge and hot.
“Sit here” He stared at your face while you positioned both of your hands on his shoulders and straddled his legs, trying to not brush your center on his.
“Such a pretty girl.” You felt your cheeks get hot, and turned your face away from him. They always loved when you played coy.
His hands hooked under your thighs, smoothing your hamstrings. You stared back at his face, running your gaze from his eyes to his lips, while licking yours.
“I have a proposition to you.” He moved his hands to your waist, pinky fingers going under the strap of your rhinestoned thong.
“Go on, doc.” You slowly creeped your fingers under the collar of his black shirt, feeling the sweat on the nape of his neck.
“I need a model. For my study.” He gave the softness in your waist a slight squeeze.
“Model, hm?” You bit your lip and furrowed your brows. “Tell me more.”
“Need a pretty girl for one day. To just lay down for a bit.”
“If you want sex, you know you can just ask.”
“It’s not sex. Well, not directly…”
“What do I get from it?”
“Enough money to buy whatever you want. And some pretty pleasant memories to think about when you’re bored at home.”
“Hmmm… You might need to tell me more” You pouted, considering this obscure offer.
“I need to collect some… female fluids. For my study. There’s no way you won’t enjoy it.” He ran his hands down your sides, resting them on your ribs, thumbs just under your breasts. He could feel your heart beating fast, and he enjoyed it.
“So… I’ll get money and orgasms.” Your face was now close, hips almost touching his.
“Precisely, yes.” His hand came to hold your cheek.
“From you?” Your glossy pink lips stretched in another pretty smile.
“Don’t tell me you want someone else. You’ll hurt me, doll.” His eyebrows furrowed in a fake sad expression, thumb caressing your cheek.
“Never, doctor.” You whispered, turning your face to put a light kiss on his thumb.
“This way, please.”
The doctor walked you through a heavy door, and your eyes struggled to adapt to the stark lighting inside the laboratory. You felt your rhinestone stripper set pulling the threads on the inside of your sweater, and your skin felt clammy with anxiety. Were you going straight into a trap? What the hell were you thinking?
Your racing thoughts were interrupted when the tall man handed you a clipboard with a bunch of papers and a fancy pen.
“Please, read and sign these papers.”
“What is this?” You ran your tired eyes through the text, not understanding much of it.
“It’s a signed consent form. This is a real study. You don’t gotta read it all, just sign it.”
He placed the clipboard on your hand, while he grabbed your bag from your shoulder and placed it on the table near you. While you tried to understand the scientific English printed on the paper, he entered through a door on the opposite wall, leaving you alone.
This study aims to evaluate the many female arousal effects… Interaction with new pharmacological advancements… No risk associated with this methodology… Complete secrecy of data and personal information… Considerable financial compensation…
The documents seemed legit enough. Hell, you were already horny and needing money, anyway.
As you signed the last dotted line, he stepped out of the room, wearing a well-fitting white buttoned coat, with Dr. Wesker embroided on the pocket on his chest. His hands were now bare, and he wiped a pair of clear glasses clean with a small cloth.
“I signed all of them. What now, doctor Wesker?” He put his glasses on and ran his eyes over your signature.
“Y/N. Y/N… I knew you would be a good girl.” He tested your name on his tongue, a sly smirk on his face as he saw you blushing violently.
He indicated you to follow him, and led you to a shower room. It was clean and monotonous, with a lavender scent in the air.
“Now, take a thorough shower. Put your stuff in one of the lockers, and change into a gown.” He picked your bag and placed it atop one of the benches inside the shower room. “Don’t wear anything else, and don’t put on any products other than the soap and shampoo. Don’t dry your hair.”
“I didn’t bring a towel…”
“I’ll get it. Go, and don’t take too long.”
He left you alone in the room, and you proceeded to undress and entered the shower. The warm water and soap felt heavenly on your dirty skin, and you washed away the dried sweat and makeup on your face and hair.
As you were about to step out of the shower, Dr. Wesker appeared with a bundle of crisp white towels on his hands, a pair of disposable slippers and a light blue medical gown. He caught a glimpse of your naked body, but didn’t lose his composure as he turned his face while handing you the towels.
“You were quick.”
“You told me to be.” Your voice was muffled behind the fogged glass.
“Obedient.” The Doctor spoke in a low voice, barely audible. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you patted your skin dry with the towel.
Dressed in the soft thin cotton gown, you stepped around the corridor, looking for him. It was dead silent and cold, your damp hair making your ears freeze.
You found Dr. Wesker in an ample operating room, meticulously organizing papers and a tray of… Instruments?
His lips stretched slightly in an almost unperceptible smile. Sensing your hesitation, he stopped his preparations and breached the distance between you in three strides.
“Hey, it’s not anything surgical. You’ll be awake and conscious.” He seemed to have read your mind, and gently directed you towards the examination table. You held onto his shoulder and took the small steps to get up on the table.
“Are you cold or nervous?” Dr. Wesker noticed your goosebumps and shaky hands.
“B-both, I think. Mostly cold.”
“Lay down.”
“I’m cold.” You were full-on shaking, now.
“I know, princess. Won’t be for long, though.”
You observed curiously as he put an oximeter on your finger. He then donned latex gloves and picked up a syringe filled with a light green liquid. A fearful whimper passed through your lips before you could catch it, and Dr. Wesker smirked.
“No need to fear, angel. Do you understand what we’re gonna do?”
“I-I don’t think so…”
“Didn’t you read the papers?” He gave you a disappointed look.
“I read it! M-maybe I didn’t quite understand it.”
“Well… I’m testing the effects of this rather… innovative drug. This was tested on men, but not women, you see?” He ran his finger over the empty ampule on the table. “Simply put, it’s an aphrodisiac. Like Sildenafil, but for women. And injectable.”
Your face grew hot. You knew it was something sexual, but you didn’t really expect drugs to be involved. The Doctor wrapped a cord around your biceps and tapped on the inside of your elbow, noticing your veins starting to bulge.
“It won’t hurt, darling. I’m here for you. Now be good for me, alright?”
You nodded and looked away as he injected the syringe contents in your arm. It was surprisingly painless, and he placed a small band-aid on the puncture.
“Now, close your eyes and relax a bit.”
Amidst the darkness, you could map out a tingling sensation, its intensity increasing little by little. It started on (what seemed to be) your toes and fingertips – a thousand tiny stars humming under your hot skin. The vibrations crawled up your melted limbs, and an enveloping heat ran from the base of your spine to your core as your heart beat quickly – way too quick. Head feeling light, your eyelids heavily blanketed your eyes, but you could make out a stark brightness right outside your eyelids. You felt a pressure on your thigh, and consciousness was punched into you as your eyes shot open.
“Hello.” Doctor Wesker gently placed a gloved hand on your thigh, almost wrapping around it. His attentive eyes ran over your form, a mental checklist on his mind.
All the hallmark signs were there: skin hot and slightly sweaty, fidgety fingers, blushed cheeks, glassy eyes, pebbled nipples, breath erratic and quick. Perfect.
“How are you feeling now?” His hand left your skin, and you felt a small whimper escape your throat. Noticing your reaction, he grabbed a clipboard and started writing something.
“I… I-I’m different…” Your blood felt like hot honey inside your veins, a familiar urge starting to bloom on your lower stomach. A machine beside you exposed your quick heartbeats.
“Can you describe it?” He moved to sit on a chair close to you, and you could smell his cologne, his scent – expensive perfume, tobacco smoke, dried cold sweat. You held back a moan and tried to clamp your thighs together, but your something kept your ankles in place.
“I-I feel hot… N-need- W-wait!” You started to fuss on the table, realizing your wrists and ankles were held in place with thick leather straps.
“Shh-shh! Calm down, doll. This is for your safety.” Dr. Wesker placed a firm hand on your stomach to stabilize you, and you felt an immense pleasure irradiating on the skin under his touch. You tipped your head back, breathing heavily.
“What… what hav’you done to me…”
“It’s the drug, doll. Don’t fear, everything is going smoothly.” The doctor’s hand dragged from your stomach to your hip, feeling each one of your shivers. His fingers found the hem of your gown, and you felt goosebumps on your thighs.
“I will examine you now, princess. No need to be shy.” Your face got impossibly redder, but you nodded. The expectation of his attention, his touch, was enough to send away any rational thoughts you still had.
The doctor lifted up your gown, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs, your soft hips, and your glistening pussy, covered in slick. He wrote something on the clipboard and turned to face the counter behind him, his instruments laid out neatly.
You almost mourned the loss of his attention, when he turned back with a plastic test tube in one hand, and a blue glove on his right hand. The proximity of his body made your heartbeat jump.
“Now I must collect some material, darling.” He got closer to your wet center, eyes focused on the task. “You might like this.” You lifted your head to look at him, eyes blown wide.
Your hips bucked as he ran his index finger through your folds, collecting as much slick as he could. He put the material away in the tube, and went back for another teasing touch that drew more slick from your cunt.
“You’re a real pleasure to work with.” Dr. Wesker smirked as he scraped his gloved finger inside the tube. Your brain had already turned to mush, and all you wanted was him. Him him him him-
“How are you feeling, princess?” He discarded the gloves and rubbed his chin. You wanted to feel those fingers on your lips, your tongue, sucki-
“I asked you a question.” His gaze pierced right through yours, a predator staring at its prey. You forced yourself to remember what the question was.
“I-I’m f-fine, Doctor.” The word fell sweetly from your lips, and the corners of his lips elevated in satisfaction.
“Be more specific, doll.” He held the clipboard again, and you swore his hands looked so hot.
“I…” You tried to actually think, to be helpful. This was for science, after all. “I feel… hot. Desperate. Horny.” In your current state, producing an intelligent thought felt like a marathon.
“Now you’re helping me. Good girl.” You whined at his praise.
What the fuck was going on?
He went back to the counter, changed his gloves and came back holding something.
“Now, let’s go to the next phase. Be good for me, will you?”
He pressed a button and the vibrator started to move and hum. You whined loudly as he got closer, bracing yourself for the overstimulation.
“Just relax, baby. You’ll feel good.”
Noticing you wouldn’t keep still, with your nerves already fucked out (he didn’t even touch you!), he rode up the hem of your gown, exposing your soft flushed breasts to the cold air, making you whine and stare up at him with doe eyes.
“So pretty.” He ran his gloved left hand over your stomach and your ribs, and lightly touched your already hard nipple, squeezing your breast gently. His touch left a delicious burn on your skin, tiny moans leaving your lips.
He caressed your breasts and your stomach, while slowly dragging the vibrator on the inside of your thigh. The sensation of his gaze was so good, you were enveloped in pleasure.
Dr. Wesker positioned his left hand on your lower stomach and delicately positioned the vibrator over your throbbing clit. A loud wail escaped your lips, and your hips bucked under his firm touch. It was an overwhelming pleasure, you wanted it all while simultaneously wanting to stop.
“Thaaaat’s it. Isn’t it good?” He shot a knowing look down at your fucked-out face, with your plush reddened lips and bright red cheeks. A string of pretty desperate moans fell from your lips as you pulled on the restraints.
“F-fuck..! I-I’m…” You moved your hips faster as Dr. Wesker pressed the vibrator over your sensitive clit. Your eyes filled with tears of pleasure.
“Yes, I know, darling.” He noticed your body getting tense as your cunt drooled on the table, making a mess between your thighs. Fuck.
“Let it go, baby.” Body tensing against the restraints, your face contorted in a silent cry as your orgasm crashed through you, in a deliciously overwhelming intensity. Your release gushed out of your needy cunt, ruining Dr. Wesker’s white sleeve.
You closed your eyes, limbs getting heavy as you came down your high. When you opened them, Dr. Wesker was close, filling another test tube with your slick. You had the impression he was pressing his hips on the edge of the examination table.
“Feeling good?” He placed a small label on the tube.
“Y-yes… b-but-“ Despite feeling the afterglow of a good orgasm, you still weren’t feeling fully satisfied. Turning your face towards the man, you felt your mind a tiny bit clearer.
Dr. Wesker was pale, tall and wide. He moved with full control of himself, moving dexterously around the room – scribbling notes, labeling things, fixing the glasses on his straight nose. When he turned his back to you, you felt the drug steal your brain again. He’s so tall, so wide! He must be huge. Fuck! A loud exhale left your lungs in a shudder.
“Something wrong?” He turned to face you, and you could see the outline of his bulge on his white trousers. The blazing heat was stoked inside you, and need came rushing through your core again.
“I… I-I’m still…” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as his hands came between your legs to wipe your mess off the table.
“What? I can’t understand you.” He looked down at you, a knowing smirk on his lips.
“I’m still… Still hot, y-you know..?” You breathed heavily. You knew he was teasing you. Bastard.
“No, I don’t. Be more specific.” He turned away to get more tissues. It became clear that he was teasing you, taking way too long to clean the already clean table, while your body vibrated with scorching desire.
“I-I’m still horny… I n-need you, Doctor.” You looked up at him with the biggest eyes you could muster, feeling a warm sensation when he finally looked in your eyes. He stood straight, collecting the damp tissues. Something on his expression told you he was considering it.
“P-pleease, please Doctor… It hurts…” You begged in the sweetest voice, hoping to crack his resolve. The man walked away to discard the tissues, a tension in his lower lip that betrayed his ponderation.
“This is a bit… off the protocol. But… you’ve been good, so you deserve it.” You let out a breathy moan of relief and felt excitement bubbling in your lower stomach. Doctor Wesker opened the buttons of his white coat and moved to free your ankles from the bindings, the metal buckles rattling. With your legs finally free to move, you brought your knees up, not missing the way the man hungrily stared at your glistening puffy pussy.
He got closer to you, and looked attentively at your face while running two bare fingers through your folds. A gush of slick coated his fingers, and he breathed heavily as he analyzed them.
“P-pleeease…Don’t tease…” You tried to clench your thighs, but a strong hand on your knee stopped you.
“Keep them open.” He sucked his fingers, tasting you, and came up to the examination table, his clothed knees touching your bare ass.
He moved to unbutton his pants, where his hard cock strained the fabric. It was so hot, you felt like you could cum just from the anticipation of his touch.
Dr. Wesker lowered his trousers and boxers down to his knees, freeing his hard cock from its confines. It was delicious, hard, red at the tip, with a droplet of precum already glistening on it, and it was huge. Fucking hell, it’s too big!
He saw your body tensing and your eyes going wide, already reading your mind.
“Weren’t you so desperate for it? Can’t back off now, honey.” He fisted his member with a cocky smirk on his lips.
“I-It’s too big…” He pushed your knees apart. You threw all doubts all the window as he rubbed his tip through your wet folds, coating himself in your slick. Gods, this was heavenly.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it fit.” The tip caught on your entrance, and you could cry with anticipation. Slowly, his cock opened its way inside your cunt bit by bit, making you feel every ridge and vein. It stretched your pussy deliciously; the sharp pain being gradually substituted by a maddening pleasure that made your back arch from the table with a loud moan.
“Fuck-!” He grunted when he bottomed out, throbbing cock fully seated inside your tight cunt. Your cunt fluttered around his length, struggling to accommodate his huge size, and he felt your slick collect where you were joined.
“Cunt’s so tight, so good…” He started to move, but was interrupted by a loud whine.
“W-wait! Mhmm- it’s too much… Wait..” He could feel your body adjusting to his cock, and every little clench of your cunt made his cock even harder.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He teased, voice coming out much breathier than he expected.
“Yeeess…” He slowly pulled out, dragging his length on your walls. “Fuuck!”
Doctor Wesker fucked you slowly, with deep thrusts, filling you up with his cock. Hearing your intense moans, he increased the pace, setting a punishing rhythm with each snap of his hips against your ass.
“D-doctor… Mhmm f-fuck-!”
“F-fuck… So good… pussy so tight…” His breath was shallow, and low grunts and moans left him in every slam of his cock inside you. His huge hands gripped your thighs and pressed them to your chest, putting you on a wet mating press.
“Oh, f-fuck! Too much, t-too deep…” The new position made you feel his cock right up to your cervix, feeling impossibly full.
“You can take it.” He pounded into you mercilessly, your slick leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock, the pain giving place to a building pleasure as you started to come close to the edge.
“Fuck, your pussy’s gripping me so good…” The heavy thrusts, the dirty talk, the lewd wet plaps of skin, it all made the coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter, begging for release.
“I-I’m gonna cuum-!” Fat tears rolled down your temples as you struggled against the bindings holding your wrists down, feeling the pressure build up in your core. Upon hearing that, he picked up the pace, making your eyes roll hard.
“Yeah baby, let go… Cum for me, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, like a slut.” His hand shot down and he started rubbing circles on your throbbing clit as he speared you open with his cock.
Your second orgasm came much harder, making your vision go white and your ears ring. You cried loudly and squirted all over his crisp white trousers, while his thrusts became erratic, your walls clenching tightly around him.
“Fuck… So good… I’m close…” He picked up the pace, chasing his release. You wrapped your weak legs around him, ankles locking him in place. Looking at your beautiful fucked out face and feeling your cunt squeeze him just right, he came hard with a pornographic moan, filling you deep inside.
Doctor Wesker rested his forehead on your shoulder while both of you relearned how to breathe. You finally felt satisfied, the lusty haze lifting from your mind and body. He lifted his head to check your face, and he was met with a relaxed smile.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded and he slowly sat up, pulling out his now softening member. His breath hitched when he noticed his cum oozing out of your abused cunt.
What the fuck has he done?!
Now properly basking in the afterglow, you closed your eyes and relaxed as Doctor Wesker got up and tuck himself in. He unfastened the binds in your wrists and cleaned you up while you laid there, in a post-coital haze.
You opened up your eyes to meet his stare. He gave you a soft smile.
“Understand the drug now?”
i had sooo much fun writing this!! this was not proofread and english is not my first language <3 hope you guys like this as much as i do ^^
Summary: An attack during an attack leaves Leon injured and increasingly delirious. After extraction, he’s whisked away, and nobody’s fucking telling you what’s going on.
Finally, you get a phone call.
It changes everything.
WC: ~5k
CW: NSFW, like REALLY NSFW, you and Leon are partnered DSO agents, Leon is injured, fuck or die, sex pollen, sex venom, shaky safety practices, no use of y/n, no mention of ages, first time (together), handjob, unprotected p in v, creampies, multiple orgasms (Leon), he's a hopeless romantic at heart
Notes: MINORS DNI
“You say you saw the suits.”
“Yeah, in passing.”
“You didn’t think they were important?”
“It’s a fucking lab. Labs are rife with hazmat suits. We’ve never had to equip them before.”
“There were warnings posted all over the exit.”
“There were zombies all up on our ass.”
The splattering offspray from Leon’s last-minute shot paints your back like a gory Jackson Pollock. The infected hits the floor, tripping two more.
It would be more helpful if there weren’t about a thousand of them closing in.
You’re running side by side with Leon, shoes eating up the sterile white floors, trying to divine an exit through the branching arteries of the lab. He has to veto a turn into a side hall when more shambling figures lunge forward; he grabs your arm to tug you away with him, but it’s an unnecessary precaution. You’ve already matched his footwork.
He glances behind as you run.
“Where the fuck are they coming from?”
You’d like to fucking know.
“And why are they all runners?”
You’ve dealt with your fair share of speed-boosted infected; limbs windmilling, clawing and careening, all bursting energy and no finesse.
These aren’t blisterheads. They have stamina. They’re keeping up.
You twist and shoot one whose fingers are uncomfortably close to swiping the back of Leon’s shirt. The nearby white paneled wall goes bright, splotchy red.
“Intel’s getting a new one ripped if we make it out of this,” you pant, breath dry and ragged in your throat. Your lungs are burning.
“We’re making it out,” Leon tells you. Conclusive, no room for argument. He dodges left, hand once again grazing your arm to pull you with, but you’re already there, a perfect shadow.
This hall is wider, brightly lit with glass cases set in between the wall panels.
You’ve only got eyes on one thing as you run.
EXIT
It’s a final sprint.
You grit your teeth, breath loud in your ears, arms and legs pumping hard, trying to build a gap that allows for a sudden smack into the double doors, a loss of momentum and reversal of motion to slam the barrier closed.
‘Slam’ turns out to be optimistic. It’s a hydraulic close. Glacially fucking slow.
“Fuck! Force it!”
You almost bash heads with Leon, throwing your combined weight against the doors as the calamitous wall of infected catch up, arms reaching through the diminishing gap, scratching and clawing at you.
With a roar of effort, the doors finally give way under pressure and close with a crunch. An arm, hand, and various fingers fall onto the concrete.
“Bar it! Bar it!” Leon’s braced against both doors, his body a wedge, jarred by the furious thumping from the other side.
There are massive pneumatic rod locks on either side of the door. The control panel is dark.
“There’s no power!”
“You’re armed!”
Oh, right.
BANG T-SHUNK
Smoke curls from the barrel of your gun. The blasted hole in the control panel sparks weakly, fizzes, then goes dark.
Leon pushes away from the secured doors, rubbing at his ear. Your head’s ringing like a struck bell and you’d been back at arm’s length, not parallel with the barrel.
“Say something?”
“Something.”
“Yeah, can’t hear shit.”
"You only look like it.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
He’s flipping you off.
You grab it like a pinky promise, linking middle fingers, and he rolls his eyes.
“Alright. Let’s bounce,” you say.
He pulls you back. Urgent, abrupt. It bumps you against him.
“Wait.”
You’re in a greenhouse.
Rows and rows of lush, overgrown plants stretch unfamiliar leaves towards a glass-paneled sky. The walkways between rows are made of industrial metal grating, a stale funk rising from the darkness underneath.
No breeze is stirring the air. The back of your neck starts prickling; your animal brain tugging on your metaphorical hem and pointing.
The plants are rustling lightly.
Leon half-turns his head towards you, keeping his eyes on the jungle ahead.
“What’s the sitrep on the door?”
It’s still thumping against the locks, battered by the relentless undead. You glance at the panel you’d shot, burst and gutted, the wall above it blackened.
“Fucked.”
“Other doors?”
It’s just wall. Wall, and wall, and wall, smooth and inhospitable.
“Negative.”
“How long can you hold your breath?”
“I don’t think that’s the concern.”
You’re playing back the last hallway. White walls broken by glass panels, streaking by as you run. Behind every glass panel, a bright orange suit, thick like leather.
Bite-proof.
“Fuck.”
“So you tried to bypass it underground.”
“So we tried to bypass it underground,” you confirm. You watch the man nod, taking notes. He’s a leftie.
“Good thinking.”
“Yeah, well. Apparently not.”
The metal grating isn’t light. Thankfully, you and Leon aren’t weak.
The daylight sits like oil on top of water, only greasing weakly off of the reflective metal of more walkways below; descending levels disappearing into the dark.
“Oh, good. Can’t see the bottom.”
“Endless possibilities,” Leon says. “Cover me.”
The first level is an eight foot drop. Leon swings his legs into the gap, scoots forward, and eases himself down slowly, like he’s waiting for something to file a violent complaint. When nothing does, he drops onto the walkway, the metal clanging despite his rubber soles.
He shines his flashlight forward.
“Ugh.”
“What?”
“Love what they’ve done with the space.” He pockets the flashlight, reaching up to you. “It’s a charm you have to see in person.”
His hands are firm on your sides, your shirt riding up a little as he supports you down onto the platform with him. He absently fixes your rucked hem as you shine your flashlight into the gloom.
“Ugh,” you agree.
Roots.
Long, white, spidery roots hang from the ceiling in lengthy clumps and bundles, like massive, cobwebby chandeliers.
Leon’s eyes narrow, scrutinizing.
“Hey. Look.”
He steps forward, reaching into the nearest nest of gauzy filaments. He pulls his hand out, fingers curled around a narrow, dark plastic tube.
You come closer with the flashlight.
The dark color is red.
“It’s warm,” Leon adds, horribly.
The tube snakes off into the darkness below. You point your flashlight down and catch a glint off of something flat, circular, and shiny.
Leon’s separating more tubes from the leggy mass of roots. Only the one is red, but the others don’t look any less… organic.
“God. Which way do you think they run?”
He glances at you. “Three guesses.”
“Plants don’t bleed red.”
“Not typically.”
You share a resigned look, then he brushes past you, face set.
You turn to find him making quick work of the stairs down to the lower levels, hand on his gun.
You check your pistol's chamber and follow.
“A line of tanks.”
“Life support tanks, yes. Dozens.”
“Which way were the tubes running?”
“Both ways.”
“So…”
“The tanks were feeding the plants, and the plants were feeding the tanks.”
“Life support, you said. So there were … humans? Inside the tanks?”
“Yeah,” you say, looking away. “Used to be.”
There’s a thick film of slime on the tank, like growing snot. Your flashlight can’t make out anything coherent inside.
Leon shines his flashlight down the row; cylinder after cylinder, standing like a row of human-sized batteries, all mucky with slime and tickled by the trailing ends of roots from the massive bundles overhead.
Somewhere ahead, a steady dripping, echoing. You don’t appreciate the cliche.
“When was the initial outbreak?” Now that you’re on solid ground, your voice seems to suck right into the floor.
“All the lab logs and entries stop around six months ago.”
“So no one’s been down here for half a year.”
“Yeah.”
Leon shares a long look with you, mouth tight. Then, hesitant, he wipes a window through the muck on the nearest tank.
The beam of his flashlight illuminates the chamber. You can see a vague shadow suspended inside, like a bug in rough, raw amber.
He steps back, jaw tight.
“Dare I even ask?”
He shakes his head. “It’ll put you off soup.”
You shine your flashlight upwards; the root balls catch it and glow, high overhead.
“What was so wrong with good ol’ hydroponics?”
“Let’s just get out of here,” Leon says, heading off down the line of tanks.
“Twist my arm.”
“You didn't see it?”
“It was behind one of the tanks. In the dark.”
“You didn't hear it?”
“It was a little noisy at the time,” you say, annoyed.
Third tank from the last, everything goes spectacularly tits up.
Glass shatters outward, slimy and wet as it ricochets off your defensively raised arms. The body in the tank falls forward and swipes for Leon’s legs.
It’s not like the infected you’re used to, desiccated and dry as jerky.
This one is wet. This one is dissolving, skin sloughing from muscle sloughing from bone. Entrails spill from its body cavity, slippery, spreading across the hoary concrete as the disgusting thing writhes for a claim on your partner’s ankle.
Leon stumbles out of reach, gun aiming at the mucky skull. It explodes like a sixpack in a hot car and you’re shouting, ducking behind your arm again—
That’s when the other thing strikes.
Leon shouts in pain and tries to tear free. The pale, rubbery thing keeps hold of his shoulder like an overexcited dog with a rope toy.
“Leon!”
It’s too close to his head and he’s thrashing, you don’t have a clear shot. Something glints in the shadows behind his hip.
The hatchet. He’s already grabbed it.
A roar, a swing, the song of a sharp blade slicing clean through something organic.
The pale thing hits the ground with a sound like a rotting squash, the vine swinging empty into the darkness behind the tanks.
Leon falls to one knee with a grunt, the hatchet clattering onto the concrete.
“Leon! Leon,” you’re touching his back, crouching down with him. He’s breathing hard through his nose, clutching his shoulder. The fabric is darkening under his hand.
“Let me see. Leon.”
You shove his hand clear, unzipping his collar and yanking it aside.
His skin is patterned with circular rows of bleeding dashes. Lots of them.
“What the fuck.”
The pale, rubbery thing lies flaccid on the floor behind Leon. At first glance, it looks like a starfish collapsed on itself.
At second glance, you start to see the teeth, fine and triangular, in diminishing rows like a shark.
Pink with blood.
“Shit. Hey.”
Leon’s still on one knee, head down. You push his hair back, leaving a bloody streak on his skin, and tip his face up. There’s sweat on his forehead.
It takes him a moment to focus on you.
“Tell me what you’re feeling.”
He grunts. His pupils are a little too big, even for the dim lighting, and they’re not reacting right when you pass your flashlight closer.
You’re trying not to panic.
“Can you get up? Can you walk?”
He lets you haul him to his feet but shoves you off when you go to duck under his arm. You don’t take offense; it’s a good sign. He’s steady enough on his own.
“Grab that,” he tells you, voice rough. He’s holding his shoulder again, pointing down at the beheaded plant. You pick it up by the little stem of vine, grab his hatchet, and follow him close, ascending fast while he calls for extraction.
You don’t wait for your debrief to finish writing.
“What did the labs say?”
“They’re still running tests.”
“What did Medical say?”
“They’re still running tests.”
“What, with a potato? Where's the sense of urgency, here?”
“At last report, Mr. Kennedy was stable,” he says, capping his pen.
“He was half delirious coming off that chopper!”
“They’ve determined he’s in no immediate danger.”
“How can they know if they’re still running fucking tests?”
You get your name in an admonishing tone. You stand up, your chair screeching against the floor.
“I wanna see him.”
“He’s in precautionary isolation.”
“I was exposed to the same bullshit he was. I wanna see him.”
“You weren't bitten.”
“What, you think he’s gonna bite me?”
Your debrief just looks back at you, calm and level, his hands folded prim over the closed folder containing your account of the whole goddamn shit-spackled mission.
“He’s in precautionary isolation,” he repeats.
Your teeth grind, a muscle in your jaw jumping.
“Are we done here?”
“Yes. You are free to go.”
Medical stops you at the door. They aren’t fooled by your purposeful stride, your bored but intent expression. They hook your arm and yank you away like it’s goddamn Looney Tunes.
“We were told you might try that.”
Fucking debrief.
So now you’re sitting at home, dialing the Medical desk every fifteen minutes, certain from the complete non-activity of the past four hours that they’ve filtered your number as spam.
Assholes.
You should go to bed. Medical’s kept you both alive thus far, through hell and high water. Leon’s in good hands. Stable. No immediate danger, they said.
You rotate your phone in your hand, over and over. Upside-down, rightside-up. Staring at nothing.
You call the labs.
Some poor idiot actually picks up.
“I-I-I can’t give you that information,” he stammers, when you demand an update on Leon. On the biting plant. On fucking anything.
“I’m his partner! I was ground zero when it happened!”
“I-I can’t verify that over the phone.”
“Then I’m coming in,” you say, prim. You hang up on more panicked stammering, tossing your phone aside on the couch.
You’ve barely made it to your feet when your phone starts ringing.
Incoming Call
Leonnedy
You stub your toe on the couch in your scramble to pick up.
“Leon! Are you okay?”
Immediately you can tell he’s not.
“I need help,” he says. Croaks.
Cold sweat breaks on your skin.
“Where are you? What’s wrong?”
“I’m… I can’t…” He gasps.
You’re a whirl of activity. You’re grabbing your wallet, your keys, pulling a jacket on over your pajamas. There’s no fucking time to change.
“Leon, where are you.”
“Home.”
“What?” You stop cold in your mad dashing, gripping the phone too hard. “They sent you home like this?”
“They said I could take care of it.”
“Take care of what? They won’t tell me fucking anything, Leon–“
He groans through clenched teeth and oh boy, Medical’s gonna find out just how creative you can be when it comes to revenge. You shove your feet ungracefully into some shoes and grab for the door handle.
“The venom,” Leon’s panting in your ear, and then he gets to the zinger. “It’s an aphrodisiac.”
You feel it like lightning, a surge throughout your entire body. Your visual of his situation, based on the noises he’s making, takes a dramatic turn.
“Leon.”
“It’s been six goddamn hours,” he grits out.
“Jesus christ, can’t you just–”
“I’ve tried,” he says. “I’m just goddamn edging myself.”
“Did you call Medical? There’s gotta be something they can–”
“Fucking useless,” Leon says, confirming your hypothesis. “They told me to hire an escort.”
“What?”
“I’m not— fuck— fucking doing that.”
You thump your forehead against your front door, your grip on the doorknob tight enough to crush.
“Leon, if you… there’s no shame. They’re professio–”
“No,” he cuts in. “I don’t…” He breaks off, breath hissing through his teeth, and then fails to elaborate.
That’s alright; you’ve got a pressing question.
“Why’d you call me?”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. You just have to listen to him breathe like this.
Your vivid imagination is a fucking curse.
"I trust you,” he finally tells you. “I know how this… I don’t have… I trust you.”
You’re partners.
No, you’re coworkers. What he’s asking is… can he ask this? What happens to your partnership in the aftermath? Can you go back to–
“Please,” he breathes in your ear, and tops it with your name.
You wrench the door open.
Before you hang up, he gives you the code for the garage door, and fair warning.
You’re still not prepared.
As partners, you’ve seen each other in various states of undress. Usually partial. Usually because you’re bleeding somehow. Always clinical.
This doesn’t feel like the far end of the same spectrum. This feels like a g-force journey into a different dimension.
Leon’s on his couch, head back, knees wide. Taut like a bowstring.
Completely, stark, buck-ass naked.
His shoulder looks like a bisected watermelon, his skin dewy and pink, dotted with the dark little toothmarks from the venomous plant.
His chest is heaving, his hips restless.
His cock is flushed dark, painfully engorged, thick and pulsing against his stomach. There’s a wet smear on his skin; when his cock lifts, straining, it trails a sticky little string of precum.
“Christ,” you rasp, tossing your jacket aside.
He lifts his head and his eyes can barely focus on you. He looks on the verge of passing out, but he reaches out, reaches for you. You shove a bottle of lube out of the way on the couch cushions and take his outstretched hand.
“I’m here. What do you–“
“Touch,” he pants, barely coherent. “Touch me.”
And here you are in the deep end, no time to brace, no time to breathe. You’re touching him, chamois soft skin, hot and unyielding. His hips jerk on a gasp, a groan dragging from somewhere deep within as he lets his head fall back on the couch.
The hot, swooping sensation in your stomach physically bends you, punches your breath out.
You’ve never handled a dick this hard in your entire life.
You’ve maybe never handled a dick this big in your entire life. He’s long and thick, the head flared, cerise and glistening. You pass your thumb over his slit, smearing through the precum, and his stomach tautens as he pushes up into your hand, his breath rushing out hot, hissing back in. He’s desperate.
He breathes your name. His ass keeps flexing with the helpless motion of his hips and his eyes are closed, forehead knotted.
It’s intense concentration. His world narrowed down, only as wide as the circle of your fist.
Six goddamn hours.
You tighten your grip, trail your other hand up the lightly furred inside of his thigh, teasing his balls before stacking your fists and starting to pump him in a steady rhythm that answers the flex of his body.
His hand lands on your thigh, searing, his fingertips firm on your flesh and pulling. Your knee presses tighter against his leg.
He’s just grappling for a hold on something, for an anchor. His other hand is doing the same thing to the arm of the couch. You just hope he doesn’t move his hand any further to the left on you or he’s gonna find you a little too slippery to hold onto.
Fuck, you’re only goddamn human.
You jerk him faster, his hips starting to meet you in earnest, his body rolling as he chases his disobliging release.
And why couldn’t he get there himself?
What if… what if you can’t get him there, either? You don’t know anything about the venom, they’re still running tests. Maybe this is the result. Maybe he’s just… stuck like this, heightening, exacerbating, until he, what, pops?
What a fucking epitaph that would be.
No, you’re not scripting headstones. That’s not happening.
You start to twist on the upstroke, a flick of the wrist, and Leon moans loud.
“That’s it. Come on, Leon.”
His balls are tightening, drawing up, his forehead beaded with sweat, his mouth open. He’s right on the edge.
“Look at me.”
He opens his eyes, glassy as they are. You make sure he can see you, and then you bend low.
His skin is velvety soft around the firm rounds of his balls. You fit your lips to one of the shapes, touch your tongue to it, tasting the salt of him.
He cries out, thick ropes of cum hitting his chest, his stomach, spurting and spilling down his shaft, smeared by your hand as you milk him through it, relieved.
You can’t stop your breathy laugh, almost lost under his aereous groans. He just keeps going.
“A little pent up?”
He doesn’t quip back. The situation is dire.
His dick gives one last pulse, the final beads of his release dribbling down the head of his cock. You rub it away with your thumb.
There’s a very noticeable issue.
He’s still incredibly hard.
When you meet his eyes, they’re a little clearer. He’s still sunset pink and breathing hard – messy, now, too – but he can track your face better.
“Do you feel any different?”
“Fuck. Barely.”
"What if you're stuck like this?"
“Don't say that," he says. You’re still stroking him, slow, like an afterthought. He drags his hands through his damp hair, hissing when it stretches the scabs on his chewed shoulder.
"It was venom, do you need some sort of antivenom?"
He doesn’t appear to be listening. His hands grip the back of the couch, his hips rolling, cock pushing through your sticky fist.
You grab his hips and force them down.
“Leon.”
He bucks hard against you, bratty.
"You think I know?”
“Don’t give me an attitude.”
“Don’t fuckin tease me,” he snaps, unwisely.
You move fast.
A whump, a gasp, the silence of breath caught in the shadow of a predator.
His breath fans out over your face; slow, tremulous.
“I’m doing you a favor,” you remind him, low, your face inches from his. “I could just leave.”
He’s not moving, trapped under you.
You’re straddling him, your fist tight at the base of his cock.
“What do you say?”
“Fuck.”
“Leon.”
“I love you.”
It rattles you like a gunshot, strikes you and spreads.
It takes your advantage, crumples it up, and throws it in a trash compactor. And then it lights that trash compactor on fire.
“That’s not fair,” you breathe.
“Sorry,” he whispers, and kisses you.
He’s upgraded your permissions. You kiss him back, heated, and let go of your leash.
He breaks from your mouth to gasp when you sit on his hips, his hands catching your waist and gripping.
“Shit.”
“So we’ve learned that I’m not a monk,” you say, a verbal roll of the eyes.
It’s not just a few tepid inches of water in your basement. At this point, your flood’s halfway up the damn walls.
He rocks his hips, rubbing himself against the soaked fabric of your pajama shorts. You keen and pick up the motion on your own.
God, you’re aching.
“You should have said something,” he says, breathless.
“That wasn’t on the invitation.”
“Aren’t you a saint.”
“Yeah. Because when you said ‘I trust you’, I heard ‘take advantage of my compromising situation’.”
“Fair,” he says, then pulls you down to speak in your ear, his scruff a ticklish rasp against your skin. “Fuck me.”
Well don’t you make the perfect pair. He’s hard as granite and you’re wet enough to sink a dinghy.
Taking off your clothes is too much fucking bother. You just shove the wet fabric to the side.
He doesn't watch where you’re taking his cock into your body, the hot, hard length of him sliding in tight past your pussy lips.
He’s watching your face. You don’t know it until you’ve got him in to the hilt, your mouth falling open on a sigh, your forehead smoothing out as you gyrate your hips, a delicious little circle, fully seated on his lap.
"Oh my god, Leon."
He comes.
Your name is somewhere in the long groan sieved through his clenched teeth before his mouth drops open, diced breaths tumbling free as he pulses inside of you, so deep, so hot and thick.
He’s still looking directly at you.
You watch his eyes clear just a little more; sharpening, focusing. Smoke becoming a mist.
“Can I tease you about premature ejaculation.”
“No.” He starts unbuttoning your pajama top. The fabric is wrinkled at your sides where he’d been gripping, almost hard enough to bruise.
“Why, because you’re still hard?” He is, but it’s different. You couldn’t bend steel around him anymore.
“Yeah,” he says simply, and grips your open collar, pulling you down into a kiss.
You arch your back, easing him to just the tip, bottoming him out again, cycling his affected breath through your own lungs. He runs his hands down your chest, grazing your nipples, his tongue reaching into your mouth to taste your sigh.
His hips press up into you, lifting you, a gentle swell. You ride it; start to rock your hips.
The fabric of your shirt whispers down your arms, chased by the skim of Leon’s palms. Goosebumps raise on your skin.
You brace your arms on the back of the couch, riding him faster. He trails his lips down the column of your neck, his scruff a pleasant scratch, his humid breaths printing your skin.
He runs the fan of his fingers over your nipples.
“Leon.”
“Lean back,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “Let me see you.”
You sit back on his hips, brushing your hands over the caps of his knees. He scratches lightly down the flex of your thighs as you start slapping down on him harder, dropping your head back, gasping.
“Fuck, gorgeous, just like that.”
“God, Leon.”
Your thighs are burning. He starts meeting you, hips snapping, and you look down.
It almost does you in.
Those broad shoulders, that flushed chest. Muscles rolling and bunching under his glistening skin. Hair sticking to his forehead, wet pink lips, blown eyes hooded, watching you, too.
His hands fall to your hips and he growls, fingers bunching in your pajama shorts. Feral. Like he’s going to tear them.
He hooks his arm around your back and surges up, laying you out on the sofa. You whine when he slips out of you, but he’s lifting your hips to yank your shorts and panties down, surprisingly coordinated for the way he’s wound up.
A small part of you expects them to hit the floor with a wet slap. The rest of you is reaching for Leon, impatient, empty.
He brings your knee up, hooks your leg around his hip and pushes back in, one long thrust, his breath a humid narration. You keen, head falling back against the cushions, feeling his lips at your jaw.
He digs his arms under your shoulders, his body rocking you, fluid motions pushing and pulling as he fucks you slow, deep. You grip his back, obsessed with the animal flex of his body.
You can feel every inch of him, stroking your walls. In, out, a steady tide. You arch your back, your stomach pressing to the rippling heat of his abs.
He’s still sticky. You don’t fucking care.
“Score’s two to zero,” he tells you, breath hot against your cheek. “You gonna catch up?”
“I’m not the medical concern.”
He brings your other leg up onto his hip, adjusting. Seeking.
He finds it. You groan loud, raw, and feel him smile against your neck.
“There you are.”
Your jaw hinges open, your vision glazing over as he rubs the head of his cock against the bundle of nerves inside you. He snaps his hips, jolting a gasp out of you, then goes right back to massaging your g-spot.
“You’re not real,” you pant. He nips your skin, sharp.
“River in Egypt, sweetheart.”
You dig your heels into his glutes, pressing in like spurs, urging him faster.
“Come on, cowboy– ah!”
He pushes up onto his hands, skin slapping loud as he starts pounding into you hard and fast. You were already tightening, coil building, and he’s hit your fucking warp drive.
“Fuck, fuck, like that, Leon!”
“Shit, you better hurry,” he says through gritted teeth. His hips are stuttering, rhythm starting to fall apart.
“I told you–“
His thumb circles your clit, just one rotation, and that’s it. The bastard’s got you. Screaming, even.
You come apart beneath him, your foundation shaking, walls clenching around him, wracked by seismic waves. He gasps your name, watching you climax on his dick, then slams in deep and comes with a long, stuttering groan.
The third time, it seems, is the charm.
When his phone starts ringing, you don’t hear it at first. His head is blocking your nearest ear.
“Leon.”
“Mm.”
“Your phone.”
“Mmph.”
You shift like you’re going to try to reach for it yourself, but he’s beautifully heavy on top of you, so you don’t try very hard.
You nuzzle your face into his hair and bring your arms around him instead, closing your eyes. He hums, content.
The ringtone stops, bending to your private moment.
Five seconds later, it starts up again.
“Fuck.”
You grouse when Leon shifts up, but his reach is longer than yours and he doesn’t go far.
“Huh. Medical,” he says.
“Oh,” you say, with mock optimism.
He hits answer, settling back on top of you. You run your hand up and down his back, petting him.
“Kennedy.”
He doesn’t have his volume turned up very high. You get vague shapes of words, spoken quickly, and then Leon’s short responses, felt as much as heard, his voice thrumming through you.
“Yeah. … No. … Don’t need it. … I know. … I know. … No, I’m fine. … Sure. Bye.”
“Fucking useless,” he mutters, his phone clattering onto the coffee table. “Antivenom’s ready.”
You start giggling.
“They want me in for reassessment in the morning.”
It turns into laughter, smothered into his shoulder, and he rolls into the couch crease so he can look at you.
“What?”
“All their overtime hours,” you say. “No match for your partner’s Magical Healing Vagina.”
He laughs, a real one, his hand pulling at your hip to twist you towards him, pressing you against his body. You’re both a fucking mess, and the couch might be a write-off.
It was an emergency.
“Should get you certified,” he says. You make a skeptical noise.
“There’d be a demand.”
His arm tightens around you, minuscule. Almost imperceptible. Might’ve been completely imperceptible, if his arms weren’t so big.
“Mm. We’re sticking to best-kept-secret.”
“How selfish.”
He nuzzles your mouth with his, sharing breath.
“Yeah.”
“Hey,” you mention, to his invading tongue. He retreats and lets you speak. "Did you mean what you said, or was it just self-defense?"
"What I said?"
"Don't be obtuse.”
He brushes his lips against yours, just a snag of soft, moist skin.
"I've never lied to you," he says.
"There's a first time for everything," you say. "You're skirting the question."
He brushes your hair back, studying your face. Content to take forever, it seems.
"If it helps," you say, "I can put you back under duress."
You slide your hand to the front of his hip, laughing when he flinches away.
"Ass," he says, and rolls you onto your back again, dipping to kiss you. "Yeah. I love you."
You stroke his cheek, his stubble rasping against your fingertips. His eyes are completely clear, gaze steady looking back at you.
You don't take forever to say it. The forever you want to take is the one that opens up on the other side of it: four words, a door.
“I love you, too.”
On AO3
Y'all mind if I just give our man a bad good time real quick
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist when I post these fics 🩷
test bunny .ᐟ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ reader x zeno wesker nsfw
˚⋆ summary: On a particular slow day at the club, your favorite customer had a… rather unusual proposition for you.
˚⋆ tags: MDNI, stripper!reader x doctor!zeno, medical kink, dom!zeno, sub!reader, smut, overstimulation, pet names, white coats, sex toys, bindings, dubcon, sex pollen trope, human experimentation/research, hand kink, praise kink, teasing, size difference, p in v sex, breeding
˚⋆ w/c: 4k
˚⋆ notes: this was so horny and nasty i hope y'all like it <33
It was another slow day at the club. Some girls twirled lazily around the poles, others had gone backstage to count the few crumpled bills they got, and you sat at the bar, sipping a gin cocktail that probably costed more than whatever lackluster money you got today.
Still, you sat there, one elbow propped on the counter while you ran your manicured nails on your thigh to distract yourself. You were waiting for any opportunity to make enough money to pay for another drink – wishing that maybe one of your few frequent customers would appear, wanting nothing more than a conversation for the price of a hefty bill. Maybe that rich blond guy could show up…
The music boomed loudly and you started feeling light from the alcohol, all the blood rushing to your face. It was around 1 A.M., and the already small crowd dwindled each minute. Well, tonight wasn’t much of a success.
After checking the few worthless notifications on your phone and finishing your drink, you finally got bored enough to give up. You put the phone on your hip under the thong strap, and pushed off the barstool with your Pleasers impacting the dirty worn carpet.
“Hey doll, you payin’ or what?” – The bartender asked, trying to get way too close to you. You shot him a glare, but it didn’t scare him. Maybe it was the pretty makeup, with your dolly false lashes and pouty mouth. He grinned either way.
“Oh, I was just about t—”
“It’s on me.”
A large gloved hand suddenly fell on the counter, a Centurion card under it, and your gaze washed over the body it belonged to. A large silver watch firm on the wrist, a crisp white sleeve shining under the club lights, and a broad, strong chest at your eye level. You felt a clothed hard leg brushing your bare ass as your breath hitched in surprise, feeling suddenly preyed on. But he had a black Amex, and you’ve seen him before.
You turned around and looked up at his face with the biggest eyes you could muster, you stared straight into your reflection on the lenses of his dark sunglasses. You could barely see his eyes through the glass, but you still acted like you could. The corner of his lip raised in a barely-there smirk.
“You’re back.” You said, back pressing the counter as you tried not to glue your body to his. Not a bad idea, though.
“So you do remember me. Or is it my card?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking down at you.
“Could be both, could be neither…” You smiled sweetly, bringing up your elbow to rest on the counter, close to his hand. Close, but not touching. A bait.
You might have caught his eye darting to the newly-exposed side boob, daring to spill from your pink rhinestone bra. His large hand closed gently around your arm, the size difference enough to set a warm ember on your lower stomach.
“May I take you somewhere, sir?” You offered, one of your plastic heels lightly brushing his polished leather shoes.
“Always.”
The private room felt even smaller when he sat on the red cushions. A small circular room, with mirrors on every wall, and a silver pole on the middle reflected the lights coming from the ceiling. He sat comfortably, legs spread and arms resting on the back of the settee. You twirled around the pole, making a show of yourself under his hard gaze, soft skin glittering under the strobing lights.
“Come here.” He called, and your heart started racing. You normally don’t touch customers from the chest down, but him… He was different.
“Why should I?” You teased, playing hard to get while sliding down the pole.
“Doctor’s orders.” His eyes pierced right through the dappled lighting. Maybe you weren’t in a position to object.
With a naughty smile, you got down from the pole platform and stood between his legs, awaiting his orders. God, he was so huge and hot.
“Sit here” He stared at your face while you positioned both of your hands on his shoulders and straddled his legs, trying to not brush your center on his.
“Such a pretty girl.” You felt your cheeks get hot, and turned your face away from him. They always loved when you played coy.
His hands hooked under your thighs, smoothing your hamstrings. You stared back at his face, running your gaze from his eyes to his lips, while licking yours.
“I have a proposition to you.” He moved his hands to your waist, pinky fingers going under the strap of your rhinestoned thong.
“Go on, doc.” You slowly creeped your fingers under the collar of his black shirt, feeling the sweat on the nape of his neck.
“I need a model. For my study.” He gave the softness in your waist a slight squeeze.
“Model, hm?” You bit your lip and furrowed your brows. “Tell me more.”
“Need a pretty girl for one day. To just lay down for a bit.”
“If you want sex, you know you can just ask.”
“It’s not sex. Well, not directly…”
“What do I get from it?”
“Enough money to buy whatever you want. And some pretty pleasant memories to think about when you’re bored at home.”
“Hmmm… You might need to tell me more” You pouted, considering this obscure offer.
“I need to collect some… female fluids. For my study. There’s no way you won’t enjoy it.” He ran his hands down your sides, resting them on your ribs, thumbs just under your breasts. He could feel your heart beating fast, and he enjoyed it.
“So… I’ll get money and orgasms.” Your face was now close, hips almost touching his.
“Precisely, yes.” His hand came to hold your cheek.
“From you?” Your glossy pink lips stretched in another pretty smile.
“Don’t tell me you want someone else. You’ll hurt me, doll.” His eyebrows furrowed in a fake sad expression, thumb caressing your cheek.
“Never, doctor.” You whispered, turning your face to put a light kiss on his thumb.
“This way, please.”
The doctor walked you through a heavy door, and your eyes struggled to adapt to the stark lighting inside the laboratory. You felt your rhinestone stripper set pulling the threads on the inside of your sweater, and your skin felt clammy with anxiety. Were you going straight into a trap? What the hell were you thinking?
Your racing thoughts were interrupted when the tall man handed you a clipboard with a bunch of papers and a fancy pen.
“Please, read and sign these papers.”
“What is this?” You ran your tired eyes through the text, not understanding much of it.
“It’s a signed consent form. This is a real study. You don’t gotta read it all, just sign it.”
He placed the clipboard on your hand, while he grabbed your bag from your shoulder and placed it on the table near you. While you tried to understand the scientific English printed on the paper, he entered through a door on the opposite wall, leaving you alone.
This study aims to evaluate the many female arousal effects… Interaction with new pharmacological advancements… No risk associated with this methodology… Complete secrecy of data and personal information… Considerable financial compensation…
The documents seemed legit enough. Hell, you were already horny and needing money, anyway.
As you signed the last dotted line, he stepped out of the room, wearing a well-fitting white buttoned coat, with Dr. Wesker embroided on the pocket on his chest. His hands were now bare, and he wiped a pair of clear glasses clean with a small cloth.
“I signed all of them. What now, doctor Wesker?” He put his glasses on and ran his eyes over your signature.
“Y/N. Y/N… I knew you would be a good girl.” He tested your name on his tongue, a sly smirk on his face as he saw you blushing violently.
He indicated you to follow him, and led you to a shower room. It was clean and monotonous, with a lavender scent in the air.
“Now, take a thorough shower. Put your stuff in one of the lockers, and change into a gown.” He picked your bag and placed it atop one of the benches inside the shower room. “Don’t wear anything else, and don’t put on any products other than the soap and shampoo. Don’t dry your hair.”
“I didn’t bring a towel…”
“I’ll get it. Go, and don’t take too long.”
He left you alone in the room, and you proceeded to undress and entered the shower. The warm water and soap felt heavenly on your dirty skin, and you washed away the dried sweat and makeup on your face and hair.
As you were about to step out of the shower, Dr. Wesker appeared with a bundle of crisp white towels on his hands, a pair of disposable slippers and a light blue medical gown. He caught a glimpse of your naked body, but didn’t lose his composure as he turned his face while handing you the towels.
“You were quick.”
“You told me to be.” Your voice was muffled behind the fogged glass.
“Obedient.” The Doctor spoke in a low voice, barely audible. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you patted your skin dry with the towel.
Dressed in the soft thin cotton gown, you stepped around the corridor, looking for him. It was dead silent and cold, your damp hair making your ears freeze.
You found Dr. Wesker in an ample operating room, meticulously organizing papers and a tray of… Instruments?
His lips stretched slightly in an almost unperceptible smile. Sensing your hesitation, he stopped his preparations and breached the distance between you in three strides.
“Hey, it’s not anything surgical. You’ll be awake and conscious.” He seemed to have read your mind, and gently directed you towards the examination table. You held onto his shoulder and took the small steps to get up on the table.
“Are you cold or nervous?” Dr. Wesker noticed your goosebumps and shaky hands.
“B-both, I think. Mostly cold.”
“Lay down.”
“I’m cold.” You were full-on shaking, now.
“I know, princess. Won’t be for long, though.”
You observed curiously as he put an oximeter on your finger. He then donned latex gloves and picked up a syringe filled with a light green liquid. A fearful whimper passed through your lips before you could catch it, and Dr. Wesker smirked.
“No need to fear, angel. Do you understand what we’re gonna do?”
“I-I don’t think so…”
“Didn’t you read the papers?” He gave you a disappointed look.
“I read it! M-maybe I didn’t quite understand it.”
“Well… I’m testing the effects of this rather… innovative drug. This was tested on men, but not women, you see?” He ran his finger over the empty ampule on the table. “Simply put, it’s an aphrodisiac. Like Sildenafil, but for women. And injectable.”
Your face grew hot. You knew it was something sexual, but you didn’t really expect drugs to be involved. The Doctor wrapped a cord around your biceps and tapped on the inside of your elbow, noticing your veins starting to bulge.
“It won’t hurt, darling. I’m here for you. Now be good for me, alright?”
You nodded and looked away as he injected the syringe contents in your arm. It was surprisingly painless, and he placed a small band-aid on the puncture.
“Now, close your eyes and relax a bit.”
Amidst the darkness, you could map out a tingling sensation, its intensity increasing little by little. It started on (what seemed to be) your toes and fingertips – a thousand tiny stars humming under your hot skin. The vibrations crawled up your melted limbs, and an enveloping heat ran from the base of your spine to your core as your heart beat quickly – way too quick. Head feeling light, your eyelids heavily blanketed your eyes, but you could make out a stark brightness right outside your eyelids. You felt a pressure on your thigh, and consciousness was punched into you as your eyes shot open.
“Hello.” Doctor Wesker gently placed a gloved hand on your thigh, almost wrapping around it. His attentive eyes ran over your form, a mental checklist on his mind.
All the hallmark signs were there: skin hot and slightly sweaty, fidgety fingers, blushed cheeks, glassy eyes, pebbled nipples, breath erratic and quick. Perfect.
“How are you feeling now?” His hand left your skin, and you felt a small whimper escape your throat. Noticing your reaction, he grabbed a clipboard and started writing something.
“I… I-I’m different…” Your blood felt like hot honey inside your veins, a familiar urge starting to bloom on your lower stomach. A machine beside you exposed your quick heartbeats.
“Can you describe it?” He moved to sit on a chair close to you, and you could smell his cologne, his scent – expensive perfume, tobacco smoke, dried cold sweat. You held back a moan and tried to clamp your thighs together, but your something kept your ankles in place.
“I-I feel hot… N-need- W-wait!” You started to fuss on the table, realizing your wrists and ankles were held in place with thick leather straps.
“Shh-shh! Calm down, doll. This is for your safety.” Dr. Wesker placed a firm hand on your stomach to stabilize you, and you felt an immense pleasure irradiating on the skin under his touch. You tipped your head back, breathing heavily.
“What… what hav’you done to me…”
“It’s the drug, doll. Don’t fear, everything is going smoothly.” The doctor’s hand dragged from your stomach to your hip, feeling each one of your shivers. His fingers found the hem of your gown, and you felt goosebumps on your thighs.
“I will examine you now, princess. No need to be shy.” Your face got impossibly redder, but you nodded. The expectation of his attention, his touch, was enough to send away any rational thoughts you still had.
The doctor lifted up your gown, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs, your soft hips, and your glistening pussy, covered in slick. He wrote something on the clipboard and turned to face the counter behind him, his instruments laid out neatly.
You almost mourned the loss of his attention, when he turned back with a plastic test tube in one hand, and a blue glove on his right hand. The proximity of his body made your heartbeat jump.
“Now I must collect some material, darling.” He got closer to your wet center, eyes focused on the task. “You might like this.” You lifted your head to look at him, eyes blown wide.
Your hips bucked as he ran his index finger through your folds, collecting as much slick as he could. He put the material away in the tube, and went back for another teasing touch that drew more slick from your cunt.
“You’re a real pleasure to work with.” Dr. Wesker smirked as he scraped his gloved finger inside the tube. Your brain had already turned to mush, and all you wanted was him. Him him him him-
“How are you feeling, princess?” He discarded the gloves and rubbed his chin. You wanted to feel those fingers on your lips, your tongue, sucki-
“I asked you a question.” His gaze pierced right through yours, a predator staring at its prey. You forced yourself to remember what the question was.
“I-I’m f-fine, Doctor.” The word fell sweetly from your lips, and the corners of his lips elevated in satisfaction.
“Be more specific, doll.” He held the clipboard again, and you swore his hands looked so hot.
“I…” You tried to actually think, to be helpful. This was for science, after all. “I feel… hot. Desperate. Horny.” In your current state, producing an intelligent thought felt like a marathon.
“Now you’re helping me. Good girl.” You whined at his praise.
What the fuck was going on?
He went back to the counter, changed his gloves and came back holding something.
“Now, let’s go to the next phase. Be good for me, will you?”
He pressed a button and the vibrator started to move and hum. You whined loudly as he got closer, bracing yourself for the overstimulation.
“Just relax, baby. You’ll feel good.”
Noticing you wouldn’t keep still, with your nerves already fucked out (he didn’t even touch you!), he rode up the hem of your gown, exposing your soft flushed breasts to the cold air, making you whine and stare up at him with doe eyes.
“So pretty.” He ran his gloved left hand over your stomach and your ribs, and lightly touched your already hard nipple, squeezing your breast gently. His touch left a delicious burn on your skin, tiny moans leaving your lips.
He caressed your breasts and your stomach, while slowly dragging the vibrator on the inside of your thigh. The sensation of his gaze was so good, you were enveloped in pleasure.
Dr. Wesker positioned his left hand on your lower stomach and delicately positioned the vibrator over your throbbing clit. A loud wail escaped your lips, and your hips bucked under his firm touch. It was an overwhelming pleasure, you wanted it all while simultaneously wanting to stop.
“Thaaaat’s it. Isn’t it good?” He shot a knowing look down at your fucked-out face, with your plush reddened lips and bright red cheeks. A string of pretty desperate moans fell from your lips as you pulled on the restraints.
“F-fuck..! I-I’m…” You moved your hips faster as Dr. Wesker pressed the vibrator over your sensitive clit. Your eyes filled with tears of pleasure.
“Yes, I know, darling.” He noticed your body getting tense as your cunt drooled on the table, making a mess between your thighs. Fuck.
“Let it go, baby.” Body tensing against the restraints, your face contorted in a silent cry as your orgasm crashed through you, in a deliciously overwhelming intensity. Your release gushed out of your needy cunt, ruining Dr. Wesker’s white sleeve.
You closed your eyes, limbs getting heavy as you came down your high. When you opened them, Dr. Wesker was close, filling another test tube with your slick. You had the impression he was pressing his hips on the edge of the examination table.
“Feeling good?” He placed a small label on the tube.
“Y-yes… b-but-“ Despite feeling the afterglow of a good orgasm, you still weren’t feeling fully satisfied. Turning your face towards the man, you felt your mind a tiny bit clearer.
Dr. Wesker was pale, tall and wide. He moved with full control of himself, moving dexterously around the room – scribbling notes, labeling things, fixing the glasses on his straight nose. When he turned his back to you, you felt the drug steal your brain again. He’s so tall, so wide! He must be huge. Fuck! A loud exhale left your lungs in a shudder.
“Something wrong?” He turned to face you, and you could see the outline of his bulge on his white trousers. The blazing heat was stoked inside you, and need came rushing through your core again.
“I… I-I’m still…” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as his hands came between your legs to wipe your mess off the table.
“What? I can’t understand you.” He looked down at you, a knowing smirk on his lips.
“I’m still… Still hot, y-you know..?” You breathed heavily. You knew he was teasing you. Bastard.
“No, I don’t. Be more specific.” He turned away to get more tissues. It became clear that he was teasing you, taking way too long to clean the already clean table, while your body vibrated with scorching desire.
“I-I’m still horny… I n-need you, Doctor.” You looked up at him with the biggest eyes you could muster, feeling a warm sensation when he finally looked in your eyes. He stood straight, collecting the damp tissues. Something on his expression told you he was considering it.
“P-pleease, please Doctor… It hurts…” You begged in the sweetest voice, hoping to crack his resolve. The man walked away to discard the tissues, a tension in his lower lip that betrayed his ponderation.
“This is a bit… off the protocol. But… you’ve been good, so you deserve it.” You let out a breathy moan of relief and felt excitement bubbling in your lower stomach. Doctor Wesker opened the buttons of his white coat and moved to free your ankles from the bindings, the metal buckles rattling. With your legs finally free to move, you brought your knees up, not missing the way the man hungrily stared at your glistening puffy pussy.
He got closer to you, and looked attentively at your face while running two bare fingers through your folds. A gush of slick coated his fingers, and he breathed heavily as he analyzed them.
“P-pleeease…Don’t tease…” You tried to clench your thighs, but a strong hand on your knee stopped you.
“Keep them open.” He sucked his fingers, tasting you, and came up to the examination table, his clothed knees touching your bare ass.
He moved to unbutton his pants, where his hard cock strained the fabric. It was so hot, you felt like you could cum just from the anticipation of his touch.
Dr. Wesker lowered his trousers and boxers down to his knees, freeing his hard cock from its confines. It was delicious, hard, red at the tip, with a droplet of precum already glistening on it, and it was huge. Fucking hell, it’s too big!
He saw your body tensing and your eyes going wide, already reading your mind.
“Weren’t you so desperate for it? Can’t back off now, honey.” He fisted his member with a cocky smirk on his lips.
“I-It’s too big…” He pushed your knees apart. You threw all doubts all the window as he rubbed his tip through your wet folds, coating himself in your slick. Gods, this was heavenly.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it fit.” The tip caught on your entrance, and you could cry with anticipation. Slowly, his cock opened its way inside your cunt bit by bit, making you feel every ridge and vein. It stretched your pussy deliciously; the sharp pain being gradually substituted by a maddening pleasure that made your back arch from the table with a loud moan.
“Fuck-!” He grunted when he bottomed out, throbbing cock fully seated inside your tight cunt. Your cunt fluttered around his length, struggling to accommodate his huge size, and he felt your slick collect where you were joined.
“Cunt’s so tight, so good…” He started to move, but was interrupted by a loud whine.
“W-wait! Mhmm- it’s too much… Wait..” He could feel your body adjusting to his cock, and every little clench of your cunt made his cock even harder.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He teased, voice coming out much breathier than he expected.
“Yeeess…” He slowly pulled out, dragging his length on your walls. “Fuuck!”
Doctor Wesker fucked you slowly, with deep thrusts, filling you up with his cock. Hearing your intense moans, he increased the pace, setting a punishing rhythm with each snap of his hips against your ass.
“D-doctor… Mhmm f-fuck-!”
“F-fuck… So good… pussy so tight…” His breath was shallow, and low grunts and moans left him in every slam of his cock inside you. His huge hands gripped your thighs and pressed them to your chest, putting you on a wet mating press.
“Oh, f-fuck! Too much, t-too deep…” The new position made you feel his cock right up to your cervix, feeling impossibly full.
“You can take it.” He pounded into you mercilessly, your slick leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock, the pain giving place to a building pleasure as you started to come close to the edge.
“Fuck, your pussy’s gripping me so good…” The heavy thrusts, the dirty talk, the lewd wet plaps of skin, it all made the coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter, begging for release.
“I-I’m gonna cuum-!” Fat tears rolled down your temples as you struggled against the bindings holding your wrists down, feeling the pressure build up in your core. Upon hearing that, he picked up the pace, making your eyes roll hard.
“Yeah baby, let go… Cum for me, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, like a slut.” His hand shot down and he started rubbing circles on your throbbing clit as he speared you open with his cock.
Your second orgasm came much harder, making your vision go white and your ears ring. You cried loudly and squirted all over his crisp white trousers, while his thrusts became erratic, your walls clenching tightly around him.
“Fuck… So good… I’m close…” He picked up the pace, chasing his release. You wrapped your weak legs around him, ankles locking him in place. Looking at your beautiful fucked out face and feeling your cunt squeeze him just right, he came hard with a pornographic moan, filling you deep inside.
Doctor Wesker rested his forehead on your shoulder while both of you relearned how to breathe. You finally felt satisfied, the lusty haze lifting from your mind and body. He lifted his head to check your face, and he was met with a relaxed smile.
“Are you okay?”
You nodded and he slowly sat up, pulling out his now softening member. His breath hitched when he noticed his cum oozing out of your abused cunt.
What the fuck has he done?!
Now properly basking in the afterglow, you closed your eyes and relaxed as Doctor Wesker got up and tuck himself in. He unfastened the binds in your wrists and cleaned you up while you laid there, in a post-coital haze.
You opened up your eyes to meet his stare. He gave you a soft smile.
“Understand the drug now?”
i had sooo much fun writing this!! this was not proofread and english is not my first language <3 hope you guys like this as much as i do ^^
yall ever start writing a fic in a certain mood and the next day youre not in that certain mood anymore so now you gotta wait until youre in that mood again so you can continue writing the fic ??
