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mechezeishe · 2 months ago

Text

why is this thing in my house

Your girlfriend finally returns home after her 6 month disappearance with a boyfriend.

Wait . . . what?

a 2 shot Sherry/Jake/F!Reader; pt 1 Tags: Established Relationship; Open Relationships; Lesbian Sex; Cunnilingus; Vaginal Fingering; Threesome - F/F/M; Vaginal Sex; Anal Sex; Anal Fingering; Mild Misandry; Post-Resident Evil 6; Not Beta Read; Ass to Mouth; Female Reader; Shameless Smut

ao3 link

pt. 2

You can’t find the words. You tilt your head slightly to maybe jostle your brain and get it functioning once more. Pulling Sherry off to the side, you eye the stranger standing in your apartment. “Um, are you breaking up with me?”

For six months, you thought she was dead. You pictured how countless times — doing some heroic bullshit with her regenerative qualities in the forefront of her mind as she threw herself in the way of danger for some kitten or something. And said kitten is now in your living room. You grieved, went through waves of indescribable anger, and navigated the pain of losing a part of yourself, and all for nothing.

Doesn’t matter how much death you witness — rounds upon rounds of chest compressions leading to just broken ribs and asystole, profuse internal hemorrhaging you fail to arrest, multiple organ failure the exlap confirms to be intra-abdominal sepsis — it’s horrible, and it was all the more horrible when it was someone you love, and you couldn’t even do anything about it for months besides see her face in every patient and try not to allow your emotions to take over.

Didn't always work. There was one patient in particular that forced your attending physician to reprimand you. He was infected with the C-virus through a parenteral injection resulting in a forequarter amputation and enucleation of the right eye. He was so young. Maybe your age. Maybe Sherry’s age. Handsome to boot, which was a bit inappropriate to note since you were the one controlling the oscillating saw that broke his bones and watched his eye be removed. He was angry upon waking up, ungrateful, and you couldn't help yourself. The verbal lashing was brutal and echoed down the hall until you were pulled out.

She came back to life when you flew home from that placement in China. Trudging into your apartment, you thought the blonde was an apparition, borne out of how much death you failed to prevent there, but she was real, and she was sorry. Sorry it was classified. Sorry that you had to grieve and mourn for nothing, and you were angry again because she had nothing to be sorry for. After your tears had dried and the accompanying deluge of every emotion your body has stored for months left you empty, you saw him. A man.

Hence—

“No!” Sherry’s hands are strong on your biceps, and she shakes her head assuringly. “No, I love you more than anything. That hasn’t changed. Won’t change. It’s just . . . I didn’t—,” guilt floods over her face, and she dips her head down. Oddly enough, she looks more stressed over this than whatever she went through during her disappearance, “I didn’t mean to. He was my objective, but at some point, he was more.” When she looks back up, her eyes are glistening. “We didn’t kiss. We didn’t do anything. I couldn’t do that to you, but the feeling . . . it’s there. I’m so sorry.”

“I . . . okay. I’m . . . lost here.” Even if your brain hadn't just gone through loss and then an impossible resurrection, you still wouldn’t comprehend what’s going on. Your eyes feel sunken in and heavy, and you step out of her grip to cross your arms over your chest. “You love him,” you nod to the stranger who’s standing with his hands on his hips and head tilted towards the ceiling, taking it all in a bit . . . lackadaisically, “but you’re not breaking up with me.”

“The only person here who could end things is you,” she assures. “I talked to Jake—,” Jake , that’s it’s name, “—about it. About you and us and everything. How it could never be real with me and him. How the feelings were wrong, and you come first.”

“Then why the hell is he in our living room, Sher?” You cut her off, more exasperated than anything else. She inhales, and you know immediately she’s about to say something she thinks you’re not going to like. And she’s correct.

“Jake suggested . . . I don’t even know how to put this.” Jake, now, is very obviously trying to listen to your hushed voices. “That we open our relationship.” Your jaw drops, and not even the tentative—and delusional—hope on her face subsidizes the shock. Sherry, staunchly loyal and forthright, wants to, what? Create a harem for herself? Or is she trying to set you up with him too? Or is she just asking your permission to fuck him? Are you the cuck?

You’d say no immediately were it anyone else, but it’s her. For Sherry to want this either means it’s authentic, or this Jake is the biggest manipulator the world has ever seen. The latter seems unlikely, as Sherry is smarter than that, surely, and generally not so trusting of many people from her experimentation and government control as a child. Meaning she must want this. Want him . And you.

“A man ?” You whisper, lips pulled into a distasteful frown. “Really?”

“He’s a good man.” Doubtful. You glance over, and, yeah, doubtful. The way he pretends to look at your potted plant, fingers stroking his chin with his ear perfectly in line with your conversation. “Look, if you aren’t the least bit open to it or interested, then he’s . . . he’s gone.” She struggles with those words, which further supports your hypothesis. “I won’t sacrifice us for him.”

But, nonetheless, you feel as though you’d be asking her to sacrifice a part of her for yourself.

“You really like him.” She nods, and you watch her look over to him now. The corners of her lips lift in a ghost of a smile, and she looks . . . warm. Secure. When she looks at you, there’s more heat behind it. More certitude — hard lines and ferocity. Someone who protects her versus someone she protects. One isn’t worse than the other, but it certainly makes you feel a bit worse. “And, just to be sure, it doesn’t have anything to do with something I did, or could be doing—.”

“God, no,” she looks back at you, and there it is. The conviction. As authentic as the look she gave Jake, but different. “ No . I love you, first and foremost, and if you don’t want this, it won’t happen. No hard feelings. No grudges.” Just a giant what if , you finish for her. “And if you say yes and change your mind, same thing.”

“And if he’s just doing this with the motivation to win you over for himself?”

"Wouldn’t he have tried before coming here, to our place?” Humor laces her tone. Perhaps she's more comfortable now that the request is out there, and you hadn’t flat out rejected it. It's always a sign of hope if there’s questions and inquiries. “And he didn’t, for the record.”

“Thank god. I could never beat him in a fight.” You don’t look at men closely. Not really. A man is a man, in the end, but this man's strength pulls at the threads of his shirt and pants. In the broadness of his shoulders and the thickness of his chest. You tear your eyes away. “What are you expecting here? Do you want to date him and me? Or we, like, date each other?”

“No expectations. Not yet, at least.” She shakes her head. “Admittedly, I didn’t like the sound of it at first, either, but . . . there’s no one way it has to look. It could be whatever works, if it works at all. But it won’t happen at all if you say no right now.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. What a nice coming home/being alive gift you could give her — permission to sleep with a man. A man . “And you don’t have to decide right now, except if you want to say no.” Sherry bites her lip. “...Do you want to say no?”

“I think,” you sigh. Maybe she knew what she was doing posing to you the question moments after coming back to life, or you were just a sucker, “I think that I like you too much, and I’m going to think about it.” You don’t miss the grin he gives the potted plant – yes, he’s been staring at it the entire time. Enthralled by it, surely.

“That’s all I can ask,” a pause, “except for one more thing. I kinda need him to stay with us.”

“What?”

“He’s sort of wanted—.”

“ What?! Doesn’t the DSO have, like, a witness protection program? Or is it the DSO that wants him? Is Leon coming to our door?”

“Okay, okay, no, the DSO is protecting him, but . . .” Oh, good, another you’re not about to like what I have to say look, “the BSAA is looking for him.”

"Oh, so my employer. Good. Great. The guy about to steal my girlfriend is also a conflict of interest for a reason — I presume — you can’t tell me.” Sherry smiles, and you have to roll your eyes. “Anything else? Pregnancies? A fourth person? Perhaps Jesus himself?” “No, just this,” her hand is cold on your neck, and she pulls yoy to her lips, soft as you remember, and the sucker you are relaxes immediately just at the touch of her tongue on yours. You sigh into her mouth, chasing her lips as she pulls away. Sherry gifts you with a consolidation peck. “I love you.”

“Yeah, don’t I know.” You breathe out, but follow up with an “I love you too.” Breathless, you peer over to Jake who's now all of a sudden lost interest in the plant and gained a lot more interest over here. You scowl, and you make sure he sees it, and that Sherry doesn’t.

—

“Hey, roomie .” Life is better than when you thought Sherry was dead, but worse than it was before her mission. Your hours, fortunately, keep you away for the first few weeks. When not at a BSAA MTF abroad, you’re still with your attending physician at an MTF here in D.C., and you can’t think of anything outside medicine and the human body when you’re working. So you’re free while in scrubs and carving open one body part or another.

Until you get home. Besides brief acknowledgments of its existence, such as moving around it when it's in your way, you've barely spoken to it since it moved in. You wish it had a life, so you didn’t need to. “I’m starting to get used to the place. Could use a bit more–uh–modernizng. I mean, no dishwasher? Aren’t you a doctor? You should be raking it in.” You don’t know why it’s speaking to you when you don’t even have your jacket off yet.

“I’m only a resident. Where’s Sherry?” You ask.

“Called in for some . . . bullshit. I don’t know. Just me and you tonight.” Good. You like a night of silence. “Some roommate bonding.” The look you shoot him is a mix of confusion, doubt, and disgust, but it’s undeterred. He watches you dig into the fridge for the last of your meal prepped — where is it?

“Did Sherry take the last of the steak tips?”

"Oh, no. That was me.” You move the fridge door out of the way to watch it shrug. “Guy got hungry. What do you want me to do – starve?”

“Yes.” You shut the refrigerator fully and move to the pantry to see what — where the hell did everything go? “Did you eat everything? ”

“No, definitely not.” It hops off the counter and stands behind you. Your eyes scan the shelves, and there’s not enough ingredients for anything substantive. “No, here, come on,” it brushes by you to grab a loaf of bread, a too hard avocado, beef jerky, and ranch seasoning—what the hell? “Perfect sandwich.” It can’t be serious, but it actually goes to the counter.

Two pieces of white bread — three, you guess, if you count the chef — three strips of beef jerky, and it struggles with the avocado. It rears the knife back and pierces the skin with a strong impact that makes you jump a bit. The vegetable fights against the knife, and you hear it grumble as it cuts around the circumference. “Goddamn it.” Still, the avocado doesn’t split. It forsakes the knife, grabs both halves and pulls . His arms bulge— its arms bulge, and the avocado breaks.

Jesus Christ. “Ah, easy peasy,” it holds both halves triumphantly and smiles at you. You grimace and look away.

“You know what — just save yourself the trouble. I’ll go out to the store.”

“After all this work?”

“I wouldn’t want to steal the chance to eat the perfect sandwich from you,” You’re dead on your feet. You’re still reeling from Sherry’s disappearance and the amount of classified information around it and it next to you, but you’re not going to eat that. The grocery store will also offer you a bit more peace from—.

“Sure, let’s go.”

“No.”

“Ah, come on. I’m getting cabin fever here.”

“Aren’t you wanted?” You notice it leaves the ingredients on the counter. It shrugs.

“I don’t think they’ll be looking in – what? – Trader Joe’s?” You hate it that it always looks a bit smug. A bit too easy about everything. This is your life. This is Sherry’s life. This . . . thing is a clear danger. The disregard is in its eyes, beneath the lazy confidence. It’d bury you and her and move on, but Sherry is so convinced of his worth, and maybe the 6 months on their mission proved otherwise. But not to you. “Need to stretch my legs anyway.”

“You cannot,” you say. “You cannot .”

“Yeah, you said that. Come on. I’ll wear a hood, so I’ll be basically unrecognizable.”

“Sure, Tony Montana. Unrecognizable.” It follows you anyway. It throws apples around and causes an avalanche of potatoes and successfully sneaks junk into the cart. You don’t speak to it – a silent communication to the other shoppers that you don’t know it. It’s just following you, stretching its legs as it were. It drums its fingers on the dash along with the beat of the radio and comments on the area on the drive back. God , it doesn’t shut up.

At least it helps put the groceries away. In the wrong places that you fix, but it tries. It tries to talk to you while you cook and peers over your shoulder. You don’t trust it with a knife, so it watches the salmon cook and flips it when you command it to. The dinner is silent, and it’s talking about something or other when eventually the noise becomes too much for your brain.

“Why are you here?” You cut it off.

“Need a place to duck down—.”

“You know what I fucking mean.” It glances away with a small scoff. You bristle and lean over the table. “You can’t date my girlfriend.”

“Clearly, I can, or else you would have kicked my ass out already, right?” He smiles with teeth. A challenge. “And I’ve been a good boy since I got here, and she’s asking for your permission. I think you’re being a bit ungrateful.” Your eyes twitches. Twitches . “I think I’ll grow on you.”

“Like a cancer, perhaps. A tapeworm.”

“Gross – I’m eating,” it lifts the fork and plastic knife in the air to motion to his plate.

“My food. On our dollar.”

“You wouldn’t believe how tough the job market is for a wanted merc. Walmart, American Eagle, Salvation Army, they all said no.” Again, that fucking smile splits its face. It knows what it’s doing. Slowly, it takes a bite of the food you made. Sherry will be mad if it starves, even if you want it to.

“You suggested the idea of an open relationship to her.”

“Yeah, why not? More the merrier.” It’s looking down now, using its fork to scoop up the sauce and broccoli. “I’m not trying to be the other man here. You two got a good thing going. She talked about you all the time in Edonia and China. I won’t fuck that up.” When it looks up, you expect the grin, but there’s none there. “But I care about Sherry.” “So do I.” It opens its palms to you as if to say see? “We have a common goal, and Sherry’s ambitious like that. Hot doctor. Hot merc. Can’t say I blame her for wanting the best of both worlds.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Shocking. I had no idea.” It rests its cheek in its palm. “You don’t have to like me, sweetheart. Your girlfriend does enough for the both of you.”

“I can end you two right now.”

“She loves me.” It reminds you. “And she loves you. Do you think that she’d be okay without one or the other?” You dearly wish you knew what happened on their mission, but you don’t want Sherry to have to recite it, and it’s classified anyway. You just want to get a read on what attracted your girlfriend to him besides fucking shared trauma. “Do you really want to be the one to have to tell her no?” You reasonably can. It’s well within your rights to do so, but would it be the end of your relationship? If not then and there, then later? It knows it has the right of it. The silence subdues you, but empowers it. You set your utensils down with your plate still full. It sighs. “Look, I get—.”

“I’m home!” Sherry’s cheer cuts through the heavy air. The slam echoes, and her footsteps are quick and light. “Smells good in here. Don’t tell me you cooked.” You look up just in time for her to bend down and kiss your cheek. “You’ve been working two days straight.”

“It’s fine,” you assure and watch her round the table towards it, and she almost bends. You catch it, and so does she. Sherry clears her throat, smiling.

“Save some for me?” She’s not smooth in playing it off. It isn’t smooth in pretending not to care. It sends a knowing look your way you shrug off by standing. The chair’s legs screech across the ground.

“You can have mine. I’m heading to bed.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” It’s watching from the chair, unreadable. Sherry’s concern is etched all over her. She knows something’s up, but she needn’t even be around to know something is up. Something' s been up since they came home. Since you’ve had to grapple with everything that came with it. You smile. “Long shift.”

“Yeah . . . right. Of course. Thank you for cooking.” Sherry doesn’t know where to go, or if to go at all. The hesitation isn’t common, but nothing is common right now. She shifts on her feet, and before she can make the decision, you do for her with a swift good night and a swifter walk to the bedroom.

“What the hell did you do?” You catch her asking before the door closes. The shower doesn’t wash off the unease, and you can’t hide under the blanket from it. Of course, the man was just voicing what you already suspected. Secure only in the fact she hasn’t communicated any desire to break up with you or pursue him without your okay, you wonder what the hell you’re going to do. It’s fair you have this power, but you hate having to decide what to do with it.

Once again, you’re thankful for your job, and the exhaustion takes over before any more thoughts can. But once again, your peace ends.

“—on. Wake up!” You’re jostled and shaken. It’s dark, and the jump from REM to awake is jarring. Everything’s blurry and moving and — okay, Sherry’s on top of you, knees on either side of your hips and hands on your shoulders. You grumble and groan and blink through the blur. “You up?”

“Jesus Christ – am now.” Brows furrowed, the moon streaming through the window and the hallway light filtering in through the crack in the door casts long shadows on her, but you can make out the urgency. Obviously . You prop yourself up by your elbows as she sits back and rests her weight on your thighs.

“You’re upset.”

“I’m asleep .”

“No, you’re upset.” Her hands are gentle and light. They move to the slopes of your neck and rest under your jaw to angle your weary head up. “Tell me right now and Jake will leave. I’ll put him in a secure DSO location, and it’ll be me and you.” Sherry leans down and captures you in a kiss you don’t have the alertness to meet, but she doesn’t mind. She can eat a cold meal. “Not gonna lose you over this.” She speaks between wet kisses. “Not this.”

“Hng—Sherry,” you tilt your head back, but she only uses the angle to kiss down your neck, hands moving to your back. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I know it’s not. Don’t lie to me, please,” she looks back up, and the moon catches her eyes. Crystalline blue and near transparent. They reveal the distress below. The fear. “Asking this of you. Being away. I . . . this is turning into something that would be too much for anyone. Please, tell me what you need—what you want .” She swallows. “So long as it’s me. So long as it’s us.”

“It is, love. It is. I’m just . . . god, you were dead , Sherry. You were dead, and I was—I was,” you choke up, and her hands are back on your face. Sherry nods and the kiss is searing. She clambers up your lap, and you sit up entirely to press her to you — one hand on her back, the other gripping the top of the headboard. Your inhale is wet and greedy when you part. “I never . . . want to go through that again.’

“You won’t.” You’d believe anybody if they’re peeling your pajama shirt off and looking at you like you’re everything there is to look at. “You won’t – I swear.” Blackness overtakes your vision before you’re free, bare, and kissed once more. Your breasts press against the fabric of her work shirt, rough on your nipples.

“You’re reckless,” you breathe out. “You can’t—regenerate forever,” she may be listening, but it’s more likely she’s just watching your lips move and waiting for the next opportunity to slip her tongue in your mouth. It softly curls and dips behind your teeth and over your tongue. Fingertips light on your tits, they circle the fat then squeeze, eliciting a moan into her mouth. She swallows it and gently surges forward, so you’re forced to tilt your head back more. Sherry rocks down into you, catching friction on your pelvis. “Then you come back—and bring a man into our house.”

“Hmm, I know. I know.” Sherry pinches your nipples and smiles when you gasp. “Let me make it up to you, babe.” She trails her hand down your stomach and to the waistband of your shorts. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.” The corner of your lips quirk up, and you turn towards the door, but she catches your jaw and forces you to look at her. All the learned ferocity from her life and her job in her eyes enraptures you. “Will you let me?”

You nod. “Yeah.” The next kiss is sweet and all lips. A distraction from your shorts being dragged down your stomach until you have to lift to allow her to bring them to your thighs. Ugh, you smell yourself immediately. Feel the arousal pooling in the crevices between your thighs and crotch — or maybe that’s sweat. Sherry doesn’t seem to care. She shuffles back and pulls you to lie down, head propped on the pillow. “I missed you.”

“Convenient you say that when I’m about to be between your legs.” You scoff, and before she can spread your legs, you bend your knees and lock them together. Sherry pouts from atop your knees, and her chin rests on the bone.

“I can’t be the only one naked,” you say. “It’s unfair.”

“And I’ve been very unfair to you.” She places a soft kiss on your kneecap, then kneels to unbutton her shirt. Slowly, you notice, but not teasing. You don’t deserve to be teased right now. Your breathing echoes in the silent expanse of your bedroom. Her breasts drop with the displacement of her bra. Pert and pale, you have to drag your eyes away to meet her knowing gaze.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything, babe.” Her work pants and panties discarded, she’s on par with your own nudity. “Can you open up for me now?” Bending down, warm kisses dot up the front of your calf and are accompanied by a cold hand up the backs of them. “Want to make you feel good. Feel loved.”

“I do feel loved,” you assure her, but it’s weak in the presence of everything else, you know, despite how much you mean it. Sherry rolls her eyes and yanks your knees apart, and you’re susceptible to her strength. Yeah , she could have done that the whole time for sure. “I swear — I do!”

“No, you don’t, but you will.” Her mouth skips down the inside of your thigh and leaves cool, wet patched in its wake. Every other, her teeth sink into your cellulite, and your moans catch in your throat. There’s a man here, after all. It can’t hear you. It doesn’t have the privilege. Sherry allows you to stifle them — too focused on reaching the apex of your thighs. Her breath is warm over your pubes, shifting the hairs. She looks up your body, over the fat of your tummy and the heave of your chest, to look into your eyes. “You’re breathtaking.”

“You’re looking from the absolute worst angle, love.”

“But my favorite one.” The ferocity melts into admiration. Soft and doe-eyed, Sherry places a kiss on the crest above your clit, but your nerves pick it up. Your inhale is sharp, and the jolt scatters all up and down your body. Just from that — are you touch starved? She keeps your thighs and labia open with her hands. “I’m sorry.” Her lips touch your clit, and they’re warm and wet. “I love you.” Sherry’s breath wafts down the rest of your cunt. “More than anything.”

“More than Jake?” The question slips out before you could think, and you expect her to react automatically – to flinch back so you can see the hurt and the contemplation. But she doesn’t. Instead, she flattens her tongue and slowly drags it from bottom to top. When she reaches your clit, she swipes over it quickly and nods her head away from your crotch to look at you over the mound.

“Yes.” The bed moves under her weight with her calculated crawl up your body. “I’d give him to the BSAA if you wanted.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I’d think about it, though.” Her hands sink into the pillow on either side of your head, and her blonde fringe hangs over her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about him when my gorgeous girlfriend is underneath me.” Still, its presence lingers. Sherry lowers herself so her boobs rest on yours, and she uses a grip on the back of your neck to pull you up to her lips. She licks her way into your mouth, and the moan reverberates between both of you, rumbling down into your chest.

“He’s ugly.” You immediately break her request. “Mhm,” her lips brush over your chin.

“He’s an asshole.”

“Yeah,” she licks a spot on your jaw.

“He doesn’t shut the hell up.”

“Sounds familiar.” She grins up from between your breasts and kisses your sternum. Meandering hands coast down to your tits to gently grope them.

“He’s a man .”

“You love to conveniently forget you like men, too.” Her tongue dips into your belly button briefly on her slow descent back down.

“I pray the straight away,” and she reminds you why. A multitude of pecks land on your clit while she spreads you open once more, but with only one hand. The other pulls your clitoral hood up. “Oh, f-fuck, Sher.” Exposed, she licks the exposed nub repeatedly with the point of her tongue, and you writhe, but she keeps her face fixed to your pussy. Your back arches from the bed, heels planted in the mattress. “Feels good.”

“I know, baby.” Dipping lower, her nose brushes by the already blazing clit, and she spreads your lips with her thumb and forefinger. Sherry is careful in her love making. Tender and loving. She laves her tongue over your opening, and you mewl, back falling back to the bed. “You’re so stupid, babe. How can you think I’d ever let you go?” Her words are met with a moan, borne from her worming her tongue into your opening. You reach above your head for nothing, jaw slack.

“S-sherry, please . It’s been a-awhile.”

“I kept you waiting,” she’s breathless, and her exhales are hot on you. “My fault you’re so pent up.” Sherry adjusts and wraps her arms around your thighs. They settle on your hips, so that her shoulders bear the weight of your thighs and lifted hips instead. “I have to make up for it.” Her inhale is akin to one you’d hear before someone plunges underwater, and then she comes down forcefully. You forget to suppress the whine and every moan thereafter. They oscillate in tandem with the rhythm her tongue fucks into you. One hand creeps over your stomach, so she can rub circles on your clit, and when she makes contact, you yell . It’s quick and sharp and rises above the wet noises of her saliva mixing with your slick.

“You—you gotta,” you can’t get the words out. Her tongue rolls and flattens within you and flutters on its way back out, and her thumb taps your clit. “Jesus Christ .” You extend your reach to the sides and grip the sheets and grind your hips into her face. The burning in your glutes is nothing compared to the pleasure overriding you.

“Hm, missed your taste. Missed your beautiful pussy, babe.” The moonlight gleams on her wet lips, and she smiles. There’s a slow rise and fall while she catches her breath, but just because she takes a break, doesn’t mean you can. Her thumb is still slowly rubbing your clit, altering the pace and force. Your hips circle and push in search for more friction. Heat blooms under your skin, and sweat beads along your forehead. “I’m so sorry—.”

“ I know ,” you grit out. “Just — fuck, please. Just help me cum, love.” Sherry giggles, and the long lick up your cunt is playful and quick.

“Yes, ma’am.” When she dives in, she’s vexingly loving. She meets your urgency with patience. Her thumb is basically unmoving on your clit, and she abandons your hole to suck on it every so often — a swift, strong suction before licking back down. She controls the pace of your pleasure. A skill borne from time, she knows when to thrust her tongue quickly and curl it into your walls, and when to kiss your labia and tease your clit, and you can’t do anything. When you reach down to put a hand in her hair, she takes it off. When you grind down, she pulls back with an innocent grin. When you cry and beg for more, she laughs into your cunt. You can do nothing but take . Curling your toes into the sheets and squirming in desperation, you’re captured in ecstasy. You’re deaf to the noises leaving your lips and ignorant to the ways they bounce off the walls. Your brain’s melted and is solidifying with a singular purpose.

“Need to cum, Sher. G-goddamn please .” The relief is robust when her hand abandons your clit to slip two fingers easily into you. Your hips drop when her other arm moves, and your back lifts, power coming from your heels. Her glistening fingers, lithe and fast, pump and curl into the soaked hole, and it greedily takes them in. Sherry’s cheek rests on your inner thigh, and she watches with an airy, blissed-out look. Accompanied by the occasional kiss or lick, she speeds up and uses her shoulder to power each thrust. The rhythmic schlick is drowned out by your moans.

“That’s it, babe. Let me take you there.” Suddenly, she lifts her head and adjusts her body so her ass is raised in the air, back sloped, and chest pressed to the mattress. Sherry’s entire body powers her last descent onto you, and you lift your hips to meet her. What her tongue can’t reach, her fingers do. Your clit is sore and burning, but she doesn’t relent. Hands above your head, you grip the headboard, and as your body is pushed with Sherry’s drives forward, it bangs against the wall. You feel the beginnings of your orgasm, fleeting, but steadily growing. Sherry knows too, perceptive girl. Palm towards the ceiling, she frantically fucks her fingers into you. Paired with her mouth, you see stars, and your orgasm wracks through you.

You fall flat, and Sherry finally lets you go. Your pussy spasms, and your heart is beating through your ribs. Sherry lays on her side next to you, and wipes the sweat from your forehead with her thumb to clear the way for a long kiss there. The backs of her fingers rest on your cheek. “Are you okay?”

“After the best head of my life? Y-yeah, think so.” You pull her down for a real kiss, and you taste yourself on her lips. “I love you.”

"I love you too.” Her arm stretches across your stomach, breath fanning over your neck. It’s silent as the fog clears, and when it does, you turn your hea d.

“You can date Jake, too.”

“W-what?”

“It’s okay.”

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out—.”

“No,” you assure and smile. “ I’m not fucking dating him, but I trust you, and I’m willing navigate this with you. You know, about my comfort with it, but feel free to, you know, kiss him and shit. I know you’ve wanted to.” Her lips roll into her mouth in a failed attempt to suppress her grin. “But I’m sure as shit not going to be nice to it.”

“It?”

“Hasn’t earned the privilege yet of being a human.” She scoffs and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Please don’t.”

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #jake muller #sherry birkin #jake muller x reader #sherry birkin x reader #jake muller x sherry birkin x reader #wlw smut #smut

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