petrichor - wesker x reader
summary - after you cause wesker to have a less than pleasant morning, he punishes you. your morning isn't going that great either, and your established safe word is used.
a short one-shot. literally. this is like 700 words of bullshit.
warnings/tags - nothing too crazy but wesker does make the reader lick his boots. no explicit smut.
A/N: i am slowly dragging myself out of the hell that is c.ai. it's been years since i've written anything of substance and i'm trying to unrot my brain. this is probably CHEEKS but whatever i feel like anything is better than ai actually. wesker is probably ooc.
Wesker would never seriously defile you in that way. He’s just as much of a germaphobe as you are. It’s the act itself that pleases him. “Go on,” he instructs with false politeness. “I’m not very happy with you at the moment and your hesitation is not helping you get out of the trouble you are in.” Wesker leans back in his chair, pushing his sunglasses up as he looks down at you.
You sit on your knees in front of him, eye-level with his boot. It looks clean, save for a few scuff marks, but you can’t trust that it is clean. How many biohazards and labs filled with viruses have those boots walked through? How many B.O.W.s have these boots seen?
“I am getting impatient. Clean my boots.” Wesker taps your chin with the toe of his boot. “Is there a problem?”
“They’re dirty.”
“Yes, and it disgusts me just as much as you. So clean them.”
You blink at the shoe in front of you, nausea bubbling up in your stomach. You let your mouth fall open and you lean in, but all you can muster up the courage to do is let out a heavy whimper. “I’m sorry,” you apologize weakly. “Please, Wesker. I’m so sorry.”
All of this because you were late to work without a good excuse.
“You threw off my entire morning because of your own negligence,” Wesker muses. “No coffee, no schedule on my desk, and I had to scramble to get prepared for a meeting.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be so reliant on me,” you sneer.
Wesker leans down, grabs you by the hair, and keeps you still as he presses the toe of his boot in your mouth. “Shut up,” he says. “I have no patience for your excuses and your attitude.”
You cough and choke on his shoe, eyes widening. Wesker lets go of your hair and you pull away from his shoe. You crawl away with shaky hands. “Petrichor,” you croak out, watching Wesker’s demeanor change at the usage of your safe word. He uncrosses his legs, watching you with a stoic expression. Wordlessly, he leans down, opens one of his desk drawers, and pulls out a bottle of mouthwash and a bottle of water before offering them to you.
It shocks you out of the panic you’re spiraling in. “You keep mouthwash in your desk?” You ask weakly, spit dripping from your mouth. You move to sit on your knees as you take the items from him.
“I’m not deranged,” Wesker replies. He watches you rinse your mouth before pushing an empty trash can towards you. “You do know that I would never defile your mouth like that, right? I’m offended that you think I’d even allow myself to wear something filthy.”
“My head hurts,” you complain before chugging the rest of the water bottle.
“Well, you must be okay because you are complaining about things I have no care for,” Wesker sneers. You look up at him and scoff, rolling your eyes. “What? Did you expect me to coddle you?” He asks.
“Asking me if I’m okay would have been nice,” you mumble.
“I’m sorry, dear heart,” Wesker says sarcastically, offering a hand to help you up off the floor. You take it and he helps you up, arm snaking around your waist to pull you in for a harsh kiss. He forces his tongue in your mouth, exploring and licking for a moment before pushing you off of him. “Are you done with me?” He asks.
“For the moment, yes.”
Wesker hums noncommittally, kisses your forehead, and then turns back to his computer. “Then away with you.”
“I’ll bring you a coffee.”
“Take my card,” Wesker says. “Get yourself something to eat. Make one of the interns make my coffee.”
Was this too corny... constructive criticism is welcome. I definitely want to write something longer soon.