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awesomestelias · 1 year ago

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Armin Arlert x fem!Reader

summary: In which Jean and Connie decide they've had just about enough of you and Armin's mutual pining for each other and take matters into their own hands. warnings: swearing, arranged marriage, sexual content, mdni ♥️ word count: 4.8k a/n: written to the tune of this song!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃, long and hard, at the rushed handwriting scrawled over the piece of paper in your gloved hands. Blinking, you read the words again, tumbling over them in your mind — trying to parse them, to make sense of them.

[Name], I really need to see you. Meet me in the military study as soon as you get this. My warmest regards, Armin Arlert.

The final quartet was reaching its crescendo, the violin strings producing quick, exciting notes that instructed the ballroom dancers to jump and spin. From your little corner of the dancefloor you had so graciously managed to escape to — away from anyone who wished to take your hand to dance — you studied the letter. It had just been handed to you by a waiting boy, informing that it had been left on his tray.

Me? You thought, and the creases on your face deepened. You looked up to scan the dancefloor. But you had just seen him, flocked by a gaggle of women, merely a few moments ago. Of course, you would have liked to say you hadn't been spending nearly every moment of this Queen's Ball tracking the Commander with your eyes wherever he went. But you couldn't, because that would be a lie. And you also could not deny the aching in your chest, the flutter of your pulse, when you would glance over at him and briefly — briefly, catch his bright eyes already watching you.

But that is as far as you would allow it to go. You could not let yourself to dream, to imagine what it would be like to have him as yours. For you were already engaged to be married. A loveless reunion, it was, but that did not matter. What mattered was how it bolstered the family ties, how it kept your noble blood strong and pure, how it guaranteed your future with stability.

I really need to see you.

My warmest regards.

When your eyes could not find him among the throng did you glance back to the letter and read it for the umpteenth time. Perhaps, if you turned it upside down and read it from that angle, then you would find your common sense among the strokes of ink. It had to be a mistake. Of course, it did. The recently adorned 15th Commander had never had any reason to reach out to you before — why would he start now? With a letter that had so much urgency and intimate undertones, at that.

You bit your lip. Heat was prickling under your cheeks, warming your fingers underneath the satin gloves. Return it to the waiter, a small voice belonging to your rational side hissed, it it clearly meant for somebody else. Do not make assumptions.

His sapphire-blue eyes were in your mind again, looking at you with that calculative intensity which came so naturally to him. That smart stone-grey suit he had worn tonight, one which hugged his lean body so tantalisingly, making it so gods damned difficult not to stare. Suddenly, your tailored ballroom gown was much too tight, the lace ribbons of your corset aching to be undone.

Suddenly, you could barely remember your promised suitors face.

Suddenly, you had folded the little piece of paper at the seam and slotted it neatly into your hand purse. The only evidence you had left of your departure was a slim, half-emptied champagne glass bubbling on the refreshment's table and the echoes of your quick heeled steps departing the ballroom floor.

Armin Arlert had learned, through both years of being suspended in a constant fear of his life, and recently, an upgrade of rank to Commander, to hold his composure. Like anything, once he had broken it down to the fundamentals, exercising the skill had become almost second nature to him.

It was funny how, with just a few simple words, that such intricately woven composure could be shred to mere ribbons.

Armin, I really need to see you. Meet me in the military study as soon as you get this. My most affectionate regards, Lady [Name]

He had excused himself from the main ballroom floor the moment a small, petite waiting girl had shyly passed him the letter — informing him it was addressed with his name. Not his title, like so many other exhausting correspondence he'd had to get used to, but his name.

Like a reflex action, his quick mind was already flitting through the possible people who could be behind the mysterious letter as he cracked it wax seal and unfurled the page. Mikasa, perhaps inviting him over for dinner. He hadn't had a chance to go visit her and the new baby these past couple of weeks, with all of the work. Or it could very well be Gabbie, or Falco, or another one of the settled soldiers far from the Capital.

When he saw your name, signed in a quick script at the end of the small piece of paper, Armin Arlert almost tripped over his own two feet.

He gasped, holding the letter in his two hands and raising it closer to his face. Reading it again, reading it for a third time, each word making his blond brows raise higher over the lip of the page.

His attention kept snagging on one sentence — your voice blooming in his head like a sweet song, forming around the words, making his blush explode from the nape of his neck all the way to his ears.

My most affectionate regards.

"Oi, Commander!"

Armin jumped out of his stupor and whirled around, plastering the letter to the small of his back.

"Y-Yes!"

Jean Kirschtein was leaning out of the glass doors which led to the Palace Gardens, nursing a bottle of expensive wine to his chest. He regarded his friend for a moment, taking in the red glow on his cheeks and the tousled hair — evidence of his hand raking through it.

Jean smirked, drawling, "Uh oh, looks like someone's had too much to drink. You feelin' okay there, Fifteenth? You gonna start trying to kiss me, again?"

Armin narrowed his eyes. "When did I ever try to kiss you?"

"Whoopsie. Sorry," Jean shrugged his shoulders. "What happens in Marley, stays in Marley, huh?"

Acutely aware of the letter held in his almost vice-grip, Armin's mind was reeling, trying to think about two different scenarios at once. The most immediate; how to steer Jean's attention away from what he was hiding, for the Commander knew and knew well how perceptive those honey-gold eyes were. And the most serious;

What was he going to do about this letter?

What could the man do, when it was sent by the woman who was the object of all his deepest, most darkest desires? The very noble lady he could never muster up the courage to face — hell, he has battled with man-eating monsters, has been burnt alive and reborn, and yet still — the very notion of asking for your hand just for a dance arrested him to the spot.

It was more than just a simple infatuation. These feelings he had for you, they were colossal, bordering on almost obsessive. Enough to contest with the overwhelming connection he had with Annie. All that existed in his head, his fantasies, was you, you, you.

Really, what other option was a man in love left to take?

"Ah, you know what," Armin faked a pained sound. For extra theatrics, he made sure to sway a little, holding his palm to his forehead. "Maybe I did drink a little too much. The wine was really good."

"Well, you ain't gettin' any of this." His friend said, hugging the bottle more protectively. "Come on, get back in here. Your fans miss you."

At the mention of all the well-decorated ladies lying in wait for him to return, only to barrage him with marriage proposals and how good of a wife they would be for him, the wince Armin experienced did not need to be faked.

"Actually," He interjected when he passed by Jean. After, with a quick slight of his hand, shoving the little square page into his suit pocket. "I think I might... find somewhere quiet to sit down, for a while. Could you tell the guests I will be back soon?"

Jean cocked a brow. Then spluttered, shaking his head. "You never stop surprising me, Armin. There's a whole army of pretty ladies out there ready to jump your bones and you're scurryin' off somewhere. I mean, man. You're killin' all us, here!"

Armin gave a weak chuckle, the fleeting thought of they may be pretty, but they are not the lady I want rushing through his mind. With a little bow of his head to Jean did he slip by him, politely excusing himself from any stray women flagging him down for a dance.

Jean turned to watch him disappear amidst the sea of people — his golden hair unmistakable amongst them all. He curbed an eager group of military soldiers, then ducked underneath the shallow alcove which brought him to the main halls of the Palace.

Hook, line, sinker!

There was a rustling of fabric from behind when someone emerged from the heavy, luxurious curtains that would be used to draw across the balcony door. A head of stone-grey hair popped out.

"Did they bite?" Connie Springer hissed, his eyes wide, excited. At the answering smirk tugging at Jean's lips, he knew their little operation had been a success.

"Like two damn idiots in love." Jean said. Then jerked his head in an urgent gesture towards the alcove. "Come on. We gotta be quick."

"I bet 20 bucks he doesn't make a move."

"I raise ya 30 that he does."

Connie's grin was wide and toothy. "You son of a bitch. You're on."

And the two smartly-dressed soldiers made haste, ducking and weaving through the spinning dancers after their so-called drunken Commander, something metal glinting in Connie's pocket.

You had never dared venture the halls of Queen Historia's Palace on the rare visits you had made to the very inner walls. There was practically a member of her private guard stationed at each corner, under every painting, leaving no inch unwatched. It was just fortunate for you that the military lounge had not been far from the main hosting ballroom. The filthy stares those soldiers had been subjecting your way would have probably made you burst, if otherwise.

The little room was windowless. It was just large enough to hold an elite inner circle, with large panelled chairs stationed around a vast table displaying a map of Paradis Island. Although definitely not as grand as the one overseeing the dancers back in the hall, there was a quaint, dainty chandelier hanging from the ceiling, spreading its fingers of gentle light along the walls.

It was, altogether, a charming space.

It was also robbing every morsel of air from your lungs.

To distract yourself from your hammering heartbeat, you had begun to circle around the table, touching the tip of your gloved finger to the parchment and dragging it along. He was not here. It was an obvious fact that was becoming more and more crushing the longer you waited, the more of those dreadful minutes trickled by. You tried to breathe. You tried to focus on the ink pots and the golden compasses. Focusing with all your might not to entertain the terrifying thought;

Have you been tricked?

Was this a ploy, an awful game set up by some of those fawning women that wouldn't leave him alone all night — that somehow, knew of the depths of your feelings for the Commander? It was easy to disregard in the beginning. This was one of your most intimate secrets that you have never breathed to a soul — how could they know? But the ticking from the grandfather clock got louder, pushing you alone that little cliff of despair. With each second came a new possibility:

Did they see you looking at him?

Did they notice how you rarely spent time with your designated suitor and decided to hide away?

Did you stare?

Did they catch your hateful looks when they put their hands on his shoulder?

For five long minutes, you circled the room. Until the racing in your mind became too much to bare and the panic surged. Biting your lip to hold back your tears, you decided you have had enough of this, and crossed the room to retrieve your purse—

There was a whine of metal, a click of a latch unpinning, and the oak door to the military study was slowly pushed open.

The crown of his golden hair poked in first as he peeked into the room — hesitant, almost unsure. You were frozen right to the spot when his blue eyes lifted to scan the room and immediately locked onto you.

You stared.

He stared.

For a precious moment in time, nothing — not the summer swallows, the airy breeze, the sway of the crystals above — nothing dared interrupt this moment.

Until both of you did. At the exact same time.

"Uhm—!"

"Commander—!"

The words died in each of your throats.

"I just—!"

"I received—!"

You stopped again, holding your hand up to your mouth. It was unstoppable, the little smile that was breaking out there against your will. The first words you have ever properly spoken to the man who occupied your thoughts, your heart, and this is what you were coming out with. Truly, it was ridiculous. Although your heart gave a painful lurch against your ribcage when you saw his soft little smile in return, too.

"I apologise," Armin tried again, and you were sure to keep your mouth shut this time. He pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, turning to shut it quietly behind him. "We're perfectly in synch, it seems."

"Oh, I would not say that." You said, taking your hand from your mouth but retaining the small smile there. "I think if I am in perfect synch with a Commander, I am doing a good job."

He chuckled a low, polite sound. It was only then that he had stepped fully into the room and you had the full, heart-shattering impact of his presence.

Oh, but he was breath-taking. Standing there at his full height in a proud, strong stance that squared his shoulders and spoke volumes about his warrior days. Everything about what he wore was tailored to shape him, but the one thing he left unruly was his hair — parted in the middle, softly resting against his forehead. You felt your mouth go dry, your tongue pasted to the roof of your mouth.

You clasped your hands in front of you tightly to stop from fidgeting. "You wished to see me?" You said casually, but it sounded more like a squeak.

Armin's eyebrows drew a little. "Was it not the opposite way around? You were the one who wished to see me?"

Now it was your turn to tilt your head, frowning. "But you stated in your letter," You began, reaching down for your purse and undoing the ribbon holding it closed. You produced the folded little page for him to see. "That you wished to see me, so I came at first's notice."

He stared at the letter in your gloved hand for longer than you thought appropriate. Especially for somebody who had written it and addressed it to you. Then, something flashed in his sapphire eyes, like a spark to a flame.

His strong shoulders dropped a fraction when he sighed — reaching up to cover his eyes.

"I can't believe them."

You parted your lips, lowering the letter. "Pardon me?"

Armin dragged his hand from his eyes up through the tresses of his hair, letting them fall back down haphazardly. He avoided looking your way as he said, "My friends seem to have a funny sense of humour. I am very sorry, Lady [Name]."

And then, wordlessly, did the Commander reach into his back suit pocket and produce a very similar, slightly crumpled piece of paper and held it in the air. "You see, I also got a letter that was addressed to me from you, telling me that you had to meet me here."

The pin finally dropped for you.

"Oh," You said, a little dumbly. "But, why would — why would they choose me... to play their little joke?"

"Because—" Armin began, but his words seemed to lose their way, hanging in the air like an unrequited promise. You stared at him with wide eyes, blinking, wondering if the rose tinting his ears was real or a figment of your imagination. "Because—" He tried again, inhaled, then let out a very frustrated breath. "Really, I can't believe them."

He reached up to rub the back of his neck — a neck that you could see was stained a very pretty red — and turned on his heel. "I am really sorry about this." He repeated again, reaching for the handle.

Something instinctive overtook you at the sight of him leaving — of running, for a reason you did not dare hope. The pieces were slotting into place faster than you could stop them and the elation that came afterwards was a dizzying, dangerous feeling.

The words wait were almost out of your mouth, but Armin got their first. It was not with words, however, but a sharp sound of surprise following the creaking of a locked door. Trying again, Armin pulled, getting the same response.

"It... is locked?" You blurted.

Armin's broad shoulder muscles were tense — like that of a bowstring pulled taut. You watched them as they shifted with his breaths underneath the grey suit. He leaned forward to rest his head on the door panel. You could not hear the chaotic screaming of his thoughts, of course, and perhaps that was a good thing. Especially when they centred around images of Jean Kirschtein and his accomplice Connie Springer being kicked into a ditch.

He was going to kill them. No, he was going to demote them. He'd—

"Armin?"

His eyes snapped open at the shy tone — under-currented by something, something he thought he had imagined. He had to. But you had addressed him without his formal title. He turned around to face you, his eyes imploring.

"Lady [Name]," He breathed in a rush. "I'm s—"

"Why did they choose me?" You repeated.

Armin squared his shoulders and wished that the door would swallow him whole. Like he was facing off with an enemy, a beast — and not a woman he was madly in love with, looking at him with a fire in her eyes that licked wickedly up his spine.

Fire?

She had placed her bag down on a nearby chair that surrounded the main table. He stared into your eyes, your face, trying desperately to figure out what you were thinking. He could always figure out what someone was thinking — but not you. Never you, because every time he looked at you, his mind became a blissful, eddying white noise.

You were approaching him slowly, cautiously, your eyebrows slanting a little over those beautiful eyes. "Armin, tell me." You whispered. "Why they wanted to lock you in here with me."

There was a foot between you now — you, gazing up into the Commanders wide eyes. Him, staring down at you, breathing in quick, shallow breaths. As if he were readying himself for something. As if you robbed every bit of air from his body and the only way he was ever going to get it back was if he—

It was a series of rapid movements that blurred into one moment, one feeling, and that was the firm grip of a male hand around your wrist at your side and pressure on your mouth. Your eyes went wide — he was so close, you could see every fine line of his skin, his eyelashes on his eyes that he scrunched shut. So stunned, you did not have enough time to register what was going on — that Commander Armin Arlert had rushed forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

You gasped into his mouth, and he reeled away.

As if burned.

Armin had an expression of a man wounded. Of someone who could not believe what he had just done.

"I—" He whispered. "I—"

You did not think. You did not even move nor speak a word. But neither did he, because you had reached up with your gloved hand and pulled him back down by the nape of his neck.

The collision was sudden and clumsy. It was a sliding of two lips together that had thought of this moment together, over and over again until it drove them half mad. Armin's eyebrows pinched together in concentration. He had every sane reason to believe he had passed out somewhere in the Palace Garden and this was what his yearning brain was coming up with. But the way your hair felt when he reached a timid hand up to the back of your neck was so soft, just like he imagined. Your lips were supple. You smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla and it made this Commander's mind spin.

You inhaled sharply when he tilted his head — pressing his lips to yours experimentally. Your knees were loosing feeling as he slid those strong fingers further into your hair. You arched your body up to him, leaning up on your toes to kiss him harder — that even if this were a dream, a mistake, you would take every last bit you could have and treasure it for the rest of your life.

Armin made a muffled sound in the back of his throat and brought his other hand to cradle the side of your head. You licked at the seam of his shy mouth, and he keened, he opened his mouth for you almost instantly and pressed his fingers into your hair — drawing you closer to him.

There was a heat introduced into your kissing, a wild sort of desperation. Armin kissed like a man starved. The first few swipes of his warm tongue against yours was reserved, it was not what you needed. But after he had gained the confidence, he was leaning you back, he was tilting your head in a way that gave him full access to your mouth. To lick. To suck. To nip and bite.

You moaned, gripping onto his suit shoulders.

And for a second time, he reared back — like someone had just slapped him hard out of a daze. When he pulled his mouth from yours they were red and swollen, matching the colour of his flushed cheeks. You stared up into his eyes with desperate confusion.

"What," He panted, sharing his hot breath with you. He still had you held tightly against his hard body. "What—are we doing?"

You shook your head. "I don't know." You whispered. "But—I don't want to stop."

With a sick feeling in your stomach, you thought he would put an end to this. You thought you had made a fool of yourself and he did not feel the same way you did, did not sit up in his bed and night and think of what it would be like to be held like this. Armin gazed down at you with glazed eyes for a very long moment. Long enough for you to think of how wonderful they were — how they reminded you of crushed diamonds and the deepest levels of the sea.

You wanted to drown in them.

You wanted to drown in him.

Slowly, Armin swayed towards you. His head dipped down, inch by inch, until he was a hairs-breath away from your lips.

"Armin." Your whisper was wanton, it was the last thing you said before he swallowed it whole.

You gripped at his gorgeous blond hair you loved to stare at, wondering how it would feel, as he kissed you. It felt so smooth under your clawing fingertips. Armin's hands — so broad, so strong — were confused as to where he wanted to touch you, first. They slid from your neck to your shoulders, to roving down your back and gripping into the fabric of your dress.

It switched something on in the respectful Commander. He was always the gentlemen, but when the realisation finally clicked in his mind that you wanted him, a fierce competitiveness to please curled inside of him. It spurned him on to lead you forward, to walk you backwards until the lip of the table hit your back.

"Sit," Armin whispered against your lips. "Please."

There was no need for him to instruct you twice. In a fluid movement, you hoisted yourself up and onto the table, your dress pooling around you like a pretty satin puddle. Armin breathed heavily, and then dropped down to his knees.

"A-Armin?" You yelped, first in alarm, then in curious confusion when he gazed back up at you. His blue eyes shuttered every time you said his name, like he was hearing it anew each and every time. He rubbed at your ankles in repetitive circles that made your skin burn.

"Can I try something?" He asked, his voice a deep, attractive rumble.

You almost whined at the gravel in his tone. He was there, kneeling before you like a fantasy, the want in his suit pants evident when he spread his legs to balance like that. Gods, he was barely touching you and you were an incoherent mess, nodding clumsily, almost short circuiting when he moved that gentle touch from your ankles to the hem of your dress and underneath it.

He looked at you like you were a puzzle he was determined to solve. A muse he wished to capture perfectly. Slowly, so slowly, did Armin's warm hands push your ballroom dress up just far enough so that it bunched at your hips.

He leaned in to place a kiss on the sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, being as gentle as the flap of a butterfly's wing. Your breath hitched with each kiss he placed. Reached further and further up until—

"Oh!"

Immediately, he pulled back to look at you. "Is this okay?" He murmured.

"Yes," You nodded, needing his mouth back there. "Yes. Yes."

He flashed you this delighted smile that made him look so boyish, it melted you from the very inside. This man would be your undoing. He would be the reason you fell into depravity. And when he return to place a loving kiss in between your thighs, the place where your core was hot and aching, you lurched forward on the high of a broken moan.

Armin placed to hands to steady himself on the table — right at either side of your hips. He kissed you there, then he opened his mouth and gave you a broad, testing lick.

You choked, reaching down to hold onto his hair. To give him better access — to draw him to you, you lifted your legs up and rested them on his hard shoulders.

He hummed. His licks and open-mouthed kisses became messy, greedy. When he reached to push your underwear aside, little white stars coloured your vision when he slipped his tongue inside of you. The groan that ripped up his throat was a guttural, primeval sort of sound, and he went further. He sucked at the sensitive apex, lavishing in the noises you made and the way you instinctively rocked into his mouth. You tasted divine, like his own heady drug he could get addicted to.

Your thighs began to shake — so Armin, always the gentleman, placed his palms on either side and kept you steady. You seemed to arc up into him when he moaned, so he did so again, and again, letting the vibrations against your core drive you wild and push you close to a rapture this love-crazed Commander would go to war for just to see again.

The grip on his hair became so delightfully painful when your rocking became quicker — messy snaps of your hips into his mouth as your pleasure crested. It curved and strained until finally—

"Armin!"

The release was like a cascade of the entire night sky, falling down on top of you both. You were unsure if you had screamed this man's name, Armin, so you cried out again. Letting him lap gently at your pulsing core until the stars returned to the sky and you came back down to him.

He resurfaced from the hot vee of your weakened thighs to lock eyes with yours, once more. Just like he would across the ballroom dancefloor, in the windows of courtyards, each and every time he watched you. The shining around his swollen mouth made your loins clench, and when he smiled, it almost broke you into a million pieces for him and only him to keep.

Months later, an issue of the Berg Newspaper was thrown down forcefully on the table Connie Springer was lounging on.

"Suck it. Pay up." Jean boasted with a shit-eating grin.

On the front page of the latest issue was the large printed text of;

WEDDING BELLS! 15TH COMMANDER TIES THE KNOT

"Cheapskate." Connie grumbled, slapping three bills into the other man's open hand.

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awesomestelias · 1 year ago

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Me writing for DI! Leon means I get to make him as hairy as I fucking want because I absolutely, positively, 200% believe that he has a nice happy trail and leg hair.

The manly hair testosterone hormones didn’t really kick in for Leon until he was 29 cause of stress and trauma, so when he could finally grow out that stubble it never left his face. But DI! Leon is a whole different ballgame. He’s not hairy like a werewolf (that’s more Carlos for sure), but he definitely has more body hair in that era cause he just kinda stopped focusing on it as time goes by.

You’d just like to watch him trim the stubble or shape it up, maybe even shave it off and let it grow back a bit. But you constantly tell him to keep it, that you like the way it feels when he kisses you or when he nuzzles into your neck. You enjoy the sensation of having his cheeks rubbing against your inner thighs as he eats you out, grabbing on to his head and pulling him in closer. Sometimes you’ll squeeze your legs around his head on purpose so you can feel the friction of the prickly hairs on his jaw scratching at your skin, only heightening the sensations for you.

Imagine riding him on his thick thighs and he has leg hair, feeling it against your skin every time your hips came back down on to his body. Think about the fact that he has a happy trail and trims his pubes a bit but doesn’t fully remove it CAUSE HES GROWN! So whenever you suck his dick so messy in the way he likes, the spit just spills all over and builds into a small puddle at the base of his pelvis. His favorite thing to do is watch you slurp it back up, how your nose nuzzles into his skin whenever you deep throat him. Don’t even mention the way he moans when you put his balls in your mouth, slurping on them like no tomorrow.

But the best part of it all? He loves it when he gets the white ring surrounding his cock when he fucks you. He wants to see the way you clench and cum around him, how your fluids stain his skin and pelvis, like your own personal way of marking him. He wants to smell like you, hell even taste like you. Probably enjoys putting you in a chokehold so you can feel his bicep curling around your neck, having your hands grab at his forearm and caressing the hair on his skin. If he’s not able to still feel the remnants of your release on his top lip, he’ll make sure it sticks elsewhere.

Petition to make him more hairy? Everyone raise your hands. I SAID FUCKING RAISE THEM! I KNOW Y’ALL ARE OUT THERE! Don’t be shy this is a safe space.

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awesomestelias · 1 year ago

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save me older men... save me

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awesomestelias · 1 year ago

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AHHhHHHhHH

dad!price bringing his new american friend leon kennedy over after a hard day of killing zombies.

now you're on all fours in the living room while leon fucks you from behind. your dad sitting on the sofa with his cigar in his mouth, watching everything, slowly stroking his huge cock.

"told you she was a doll, didn't I?"

"yes, sir. you sure did."

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awesomestelias · 1 year ago

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Reader visiting Dad!Chris at the BSAA headquarters and fucking in his office :3

aww what a good daughter :3

tw: incest, breeding kink, sex, fluff

Your Dad is never home anymore, so you have to take matters into your own hands. You’re horny and tired of using the toys he gave you for when he was gone. It’s boring and you need more. The only thing that can satisfy you is your Dad’s cock fucking into you till you’ve gone stupid.

When you show up at his office, he’s not thrilled. This isn’t the kind of place you should be, not to mention he doesn’t want the other guys to see you. The last thing he wants to see is someone hitting on you. And they will because your skirt is so short, you might as well not be wearing anything at all.

He watches you walk over to his desk and he can already feel his cock hardening in his pants. God, he’s missed you. It’s been well over a week since the two of you have done anything.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he grumbles, eyes locked on yours.

“Punish me then,” you smirk, climbing onto his lap. He grabs your ass and grinds you against his cock. “Dad, please,” you gasp, resting your forehead against his. You need him so bad you can’t think straight. You’re already so wet from thinking about him on the way over here.

“I got you, angel.”

He maneuvers you so you're on the edge of his desk and you spread your legs for him, your skirt riding up. Your breath catches when he stands and starts undoing his belt. He's not going to punish you because he needs this just as bad. “Dad, hurry,” you whimper. You can't remember the last time you've ached this bad.

Your panties are starting to stick to your cunt, so you pull them aside just as your Dad frees his cock. It's already dripping with so much precum and if your pussy wasn't so greedy, you'd suck him off right then. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk and you watch him run the tip of his cock along your slit, your fluids mixing together.

“She's greedy today, isn't she?” he asks, teasing your entrance, smirking as it tries to suck him in.

“Dad, please… need your cock so bad.”

He puts your legs around his waist and pushes into you, one slick inch at a time till he bottoms out. “Always so damn tight.” With one hand on your hip and the other on the desk by your head, he rolls his hips into yours, making you both groan. He knows both of you have to be quiet, but the feel of your warm, wet pussy is too much. It's like it was meant just for him.

“Is this what my baby wanted? Her Dad’s big cock filling her up?” He says against your lips, fucking you slow.

“Yes,” you whisper back, looking into his eyes. You loved him so fucking much and couldn't believe how lucky you were to have this. To have him. You pull him in for a kiss and your tongues tangle together. “Daddy, it's so good. Promise it'll always be like this?”

“Promise, angel.” Chris smiles and presses the tip of his cock against your cervix, making your back arch. His cock twitches when he hears all those pretty noises falling from your mouth. God, what he wouldn't give to make you his wife and put a few babies in your belly.

You grit your teeth as he presses harder against your cervix. “When you cum.. cum right there,” you pant. You want his sticky sperm as close to your womb as possible. It can never happen, you getting pregnant, but you'll always give into the fantasy of it, especially for him. You love what it does to both of you.

Chris fucks you harder, his heavy, full balls slapping against your ass. He's going to cum so much, his cock is already so coated with your slick and his precum. “Feel good, baby?”

All you can do is nod as you hold onto the desk as it begins to rock under you. There's people in the hallway outside of his office and it turns you on so much more to know they can probably hear you. “Dad! Harder!” you cry out.

He knows what you're doing but doesn't care. They gonna fire him? Good. He is getting so fucking fed up with this place anyhow. “What? Didn't get that,” he smirks, glancing at the door.

“Fuck! Me! Harder! Dad! My real Dad!” you yell.

It's the ‘real dad’ that sets Chris off and he puts your legs over shoulders and plows into you, the desk threatening to give out under the force. “Oh, I'm gonna cum. Cum right into my daughter’s sweet pussy. Love fucking my daughter!”

“Oh, Jesus,” you whimper, your orgasm catching you off guard. Your head rolls back and you're screaming at the ceiling as your cunt gushes out all over your dad's cock, his hips and onto his desk. You can feel papers sticking to all parts of your sweaty body and you hope you've ruined some top secret documents in the process. Your Dad’s boss can have some of your sweet cum on his next report.

And just like you wanted, your Dad is pressing against your cervix again and you feel his cock swell right before he spills his load into you. It's endless and it's leaking out before your Dad is even finished cumming. “Knocking my daughter up. Feels so fucking good,” he groans.

He lets go of your shaking legs and you pull him in for a deep, messy kiss, both of you breathing heavily. “If they fire you, can we leave town and never come back?” you whisper hopefully.

Chris smiles and kisses down your jaw, his cock slowly slipping out of you. “Anywhere you wanna go, we'll go. I promise.” He buries his face in your neck and he breathes in your scent while you put your arms around him. “But only if you marry me when we get there.”

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awesomestelias · 1 year ago

Text

Puppy Games

pairing: chris redfield x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader

summary: chris develops a soft spot for the hybrid he's taken in and wants to make her birthday extra special

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, breeding kink, predator/prey (they play chase)

word count: 5.9k

a/n: this is a birthday present for one of the sweetest, most caring people i've ever met, @nexysworld. i love nexy so so much, and you should all go wish her a happy birthday because she's great and she deserves it. i'm so lucky to call her my friend <3

Chris startles awake upon hearing a creak outside his bedroom window. His life working for the government and fighting bioweapons left him a light sleeper. The slightest noises, like the one he imagined came from the gate to his yard, jolted him awake. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he sits up. He tries to determine if what he heard was real or the remnant of a dream. But then he hears the clatter of something falling over outside, and he knows something, or someone, is out there.

After getting out of bed, he pulls on a shirt and grabs a flashlight and a gun. Slipping on his shoes, he peers out the window and confirms that the gate is open. He cautiously slides out the back door and casts the flashlight around the yard. The beam illuminates the small grassy area, but doesn’t give him an idea of what made that noise.

That is until the beam sweeps over a bit more, and he catches a pair of eyes staring back at him. He jumps from the sudden discovery and aims his weapon. You don’t make any moves at him though. If anything, you look more frightened than he does. You were shaking like a leaf, wide eyes full of fear. He slowly lowers the gun and takes in the sight of you. Floppy ears sprout from the top of your head and a fluffy tail is tucked between your legs. He figures out you’re one of those hybrids he’d heard about. He thought they had only been approved under government supervision for now, but here you were in his backyard.

“Hey there,” he calls as he begins approaching you with caution. He hears you whimper through the darkness, and his heart aches at the vulnerable noise. He closes the gap between the two of you and crouches down to where you had cowered against the fence. You shy away from him, trying to scoot away though you’re prevented by the barrier behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently, “What’s your name?”

You look at him for a moment as if you’re contemplating whether he was worth trusting or not. Eventually, you make your decision and respond with your name. Your voice is quiet, so soft he can barely hear it.

“I’m Chris… Are you lost?” he asks. He honestly had no clue why you would be here. It wasn’t like you were a loose housepet. A hybrid like yourself should’ve been stowed away in some facility with the other pups, doing… whatever they did with your kind. He never had the time to look into it much. It wasn’t his sector.

You shake your head as a response, but it doesn’t look like you even believe it. He scans the light over you, looking for any clues as to your origin. You look like you’ve been on your own for a while. You’re littered with cuts and bruises, and you don’t look like you’ve had a shower in a while. The clothes you wear are plain and functional. They look uniform, government-issued. Something glimmering dangling from the pocket of your sweats catches his eye. He pulls the chain and fishes out some metal tags that confirm his suspicions. They were government issued, displaying your ID number, birthday, and division code. He dangles them in front of you.

“What are these, hm?” he inquires.

Your hand shoots out and yanks them back. “Nothing,” you deflect, looking away.

His eyebrow raises. “I told you. There’s nothing to be scared of. But you’re in luck anyways. I work for the BSAA. I’ll have you home in the morning,” he says.

“That place isn’t home. I’m not going back,” you say with a bit of a growl. The first moment you don’t look like a skittish pup. His interest in you grows.

“Why not? You got somewhere else to be?” he asks.

Just as quick as the fight appeared in you, it vanishes. You shake your head and cast your eyes downward. “I don’t have anywhere, but I’m not going back,” you say, quiet determination in your tone.

“Alright… but what am I supposed to do with you? Can’t just keep you in my backyard,” he says, “I’m sure if you got lost it will be no trouble getting you back in.”

“No!” you say, almost sounding pleading. Frustration flashes across your face as you try to figure out what to do. You look up at him again and decide to take the leap of trusting him. You explain why you won’t return to the hell that is your division of the BSAA. You briefly recount the horrors, the inhumane treatment, the suffering.

Chris listens intently. He lets you speak and doesn’t interrupt once. While he wants to say that could never be true, he knows better. And because it is the truth, he knows he could never take you back to a place like that. No one should have to live like that, but especially not a cute little puppy like yourself.

“How about you come inside with me? You can shower, eat, do whatever you need to. Then we’ll figure something out in the morning,” he offers.

You nod. He stands up and sticks out his hand for you. Looking up at him, you take it and let him pull you to your feet. As you follow him inside, you get a better look at him. He’s tall, but even more noticeable, he’s built. He’s maybe the beefiest guy you’ve ever seen. You can only imagine how strong he is with those thick biceps. How easy it would be for him to hold you down. His legs looked powerful too, like he wouldn’t even stumble if you squirmed around in his arms…

Guiding you into the house, he takes you through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom. Everything here was small but cozy. You liked the size of it, much different from the vast government rooms you were used to. They were big but always filled with bulk-ordered, industrial furniture. Everything there was overly sanitized. Here, it looked lived in.

“So shower’s in here. You’ll have to use my soap cause that’s all I’ve got. Towels are in here too,” he lists off after opening the bathroom to you. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly before continuing. “Can you do everything you need to yourself?”

“Yes, I can do it all myself,” you huff with a glare.

He raises his arms in surrender and backs out of the bathroom to let you have some privacy. You shut the door, and for the first time in a while, you have the luxury of being alone in a room that locks from the inside. You take your time in the shower, scrubbing away the months of roughing it. You didn’t even care that it was “his” soap. He smelled nice, and it felt so good getting clean. When you’re done, you get out and dry yourself off. It’s at this moment that you realize he didn’t give you any clothes.

You timidly peek out of the bathroom, ears bowing. “Chris?” you call.

He appears after a moment. “Yeah?” he answers.

When he sees you wrapped in a towel, he quickly averts his eyes. He grumbles to himself as he comes to the same realization you had moments earlier. He goes into his room and gets one of his shirts and a pair of his sweats for you. He’s quick to bring it back and hand it to you through the sliver of space left by the open door.

Before you retreat to the bathroom, he catches one more glimpse of your body. Your pretty legs and soft skin. Now that you’re clean, he can really see your cute face and delicate features. He shakes his head and gets himself focused again before he heads back to the kitchen.

On the other side of the door, you begin putting on the clothes he gave you. They’re huge on you to the point that it’s almost comical. You roll the sweats as much as you can, but they still struggle to stay up. What really gets you though, is his scent. It’s all over these. You press the cloth to your nose and take in the heady masculine smell. You’re nearly loopy with how it makes you feel, the urge to be claimed flaring up within you.

After you finish dressing, you join him in the kitchen. You hop up onto a seat at the counter while he fidgets with something in the corner. He brings over a plate with a sandwich to you.

“I didn’t really know what you liked, but I’m sure you're hungry,” he says simply.

You nod appreciatively and begin eating. While you’re occupied with that, he goes into the living room and sets you up a bed on the couch. He lays out a few thick blankets and puts some pillows down. It isn’t much, but he’s sure it’s better than wherever you’ve been sleeping on your own.

Once you’re done with your food, you go into the living room and watch him fluff up the cushions for you. He gestures for you to lay down once he finishes, and you do so. He feels a protective urge spark inside him. He doesn’t know how you’d feel about any kind of affection, but he just wanted to do something nice before you slept. He reaches down and brushes some hair out of your face before giving your ear a light and playful tug.

“See you in the morning, pup,” he says instead before exiting to his bedroom.

You squirm a little from the gesture, but a shy smile graces your lips. Your first hint that maybe he wasn’t such a stiff. After he left, you pull your pillows into place and cover yourself with the blankets he provided to try and sleep.

A couple of hours go by though, and you’re still awake. The makeshift bed he created for you was much better than anything you’d slept on in a while, but you still couldn’t get yourself to drift off. You shift around for a bit, trying to get comfy. Nothing works. You whine and kick the blankets off yourself. Huffing with irritation, you try to figure out what it is. Part of you already knows, but the other half soon catches up.

His scent. It was all over you now that you’d bathed in his soap and were wearing his clothes. It followed you everywhere you went. It told you everything you needed to know about him on an instinctual level. With every breath, your body ached for him. Deep down inside, you wanted him there with you, holding you, whispering that everything was ok, that you were a good girl.

You look over, down the hall at his door. It was mostly shut, but a little crack was left open. It was basically calling for you to come in.

So you get up and pad across the hall. You’re sure to be quiet, set on not disturbing his rest. You slip through the door and make your way to the foot of the bed. You stand there for a moment. He was asleep, facing the edge of the bed, shirt off again. Your tail swishes slowly as you contemplate the idea.

‘Should I?’ you think to yourself. It was a risk, but you wanted to be near him so bad. You were tired of being alone.

So you decide to go for it. You kick off his annoying sweats. They kept pooling around your feet and tripping you, so they were left on the floor. You crawl onto the mattress and up the bed. He stirs, but you keep going. You’re quick to slide next to him, slotting yourself against his back. You wrap your arms around him and nuzzle against his warm skin.

That easily wakes him. His eyes flutter open, and he mumbles in confusion as he tries to turn around. It takes him a moment when you’re clinging to him like that, but he manages and looks down at you. He blinks a few times, watching with bewilderment as you tuck yourself against his chest and nestle your face against his muscles.

“What are you doing?” he rasps.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Not wanting to get kicked out, you look at him with the best timid puppy dog eyes you can manage. “It’s cold out there,” you say sadly.

“I gave you blankets,” he says.

You sigh a little. Clearly, he was dense in more ways than physical.

“I got lonely too… It’s hard for me to sleep alone,” you say, starting to pout a little.

He continues looking at you. He wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew how much you had been through so far. What kind of guy would he be to deny you some comfort in your time of need?

“Alright, c’mere,” he sighs and pulls you into his chest all the way, wrapping those big arms around you. One hand rubs your back while the other strokes your hair. “Get some sleep, pup. You need to rest.”

You nod obediently and settle in. With his warmth and scent engulfing you, you’re out like a light. It’s not even ten minutes later before he senses the soft, even rhythm of your breath, letting him know you’re asleep. He shuts his eyes too, dozing off for the night.

In the morning, when Chris wakes, he feels you before he sees you. He feels your warm body pressed to his, your quiet breaths fanning over his skin. He cracks his eyes open and finds you looking as precious as he imagined, tail twitching in your sleep. It was at that moment that he knew for certain that there was no way he was letting anyone else at the BSAA get their hands on you. He wouldn’t be able to rest ever again knowing you were locked away, hurting and sad.

He waited a little while after you woke up to pitch the idea, not wanting to startle you with such a big life change the second you opened your eyes. But once he did lay out the possibility of staying with him, you were all in. Chris’s house was a thousand times better than a park bench or alleyway, and you thought he was pretty nice.

Of course, after a few months of staying together, you both thought much more of the other than “pretty nice.” You loved him, and he completely adored you. You were the piece from his life he didn’t even know was missing. You gave him love he never felt anywhere else and let him express love in return. You were the sweetest little thing he’d ever come across, so affectionate and loving, but you were funny too, always making him laugh with whatever you got up to.

As he spent more time with you, he loved finding out things you liked and little quirks about your personality. He found you loved sitting in his lap, loved curling up with a nest of blankets. He found he loved buying you things in your favorite color just to see your eyes light up. Never did he think his room would be crowded with stuffies and other things of that nature.

It only took no time at all for him to understand how playful you were. He could never be bored with you around. You always wanted to mess with him. You’d taken to calling him “daddy” pretty quickly. The first time he’d heard you say it, all his thoughts came to a screeching halt.

“What’d you say?” he asked.

You repeated yourself confidently with no indication that you’d done anything out of the ordinary. He tried to explain to you why that maybe wasn’t the best idea, but you put on the same puppy dog eyes that convinced him to let you stay in bed on your first night. So from then on, he had a cute puppy girl running around his house calling him daddy.

Even though he wasn’t crazy about it at first, he justified that if it would make you happy, it was worth it. Soon enough though, that word falling from your lips was his favorite sound in the world. He told himself it was because it showed how comfortable you were with him. It definitely wasn’t because he felt his blood rushing south whenever you curled up to him and looked at him with those big sweet eyes saying you loved your daddy.

You also always wanted to play. Whether it was chase or wrestling, the two of you weren’t going to relax until you were thoroughly tired out. Chris loved seeing you have fun, but these games made it harder to suppress the effect you had on him. When he’d chase after you, he'd force himself to just pick you up in the end and not pin you down and stuff you full of him till you were truly exhausted. Or when you’d wrestle, you’d wiggle your hips, whimper and whine, all while he had you underneath him. Every time he’d have to end it by going to the bathroom and jerking off real quick before returning to you.

It all came to a head though when you developed the habit of sitting between his legs while the two of you watched tv. You loved being surrounded by his strong arms, but there was something about being below him, encased by his massive thighs. You’d get comfortable with your blanket and just relax between his legs, resting your head against his knee. And that was fine, but then you wanted to look up at him. You’d turn around on your knees, gazing up at him like the lovesick puppy you were. And then one day you started to nuzzle your face against his lap.

“Hey, hey, baby, what are you doing?” he said quickly, trying to lift you off him before it was too late.

“Just showing you I love you,” you responded, continuing to drag your nose along his pants and even pressing little kisses to the area.

He squirmed a bit. Obviously, had he really wanted to, he could have pushed you off him in a second. But he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Not to mention he liked how it felt. Once he’d given up his resistance, it wasn’t long before there was a large, hard bulge in his jeans. You were still his precious pup, but you were also a pretty girl rubbing her face all over his cock. He was only human.

You weren’t stupid. This is what you had wanted all along. It’s why you called him daddy, put yourself in every compromising position you could think of. You thought you made it completely obvious that you wanted him to take you and fuck you dumb whenever he felt like it. But all that went over his head, so this is what it came to. But fortunately, it seemed to work.

You freed him from the constraints of his pants and watched his cock spring to life. Timidly wrapping your fingers around it, you brought it to your lips. You licked it a few times and kissed the tip before sliding it into your mouth. Chris’s eyes fell shut as he groaned.

“Fuck, baby. Such a good puppy,” he grunted, tipping his head back.

You sucked with dedication, savoring the heavy weight of him on your tongue, the smell of his musk filling your nose. Your saliva dribbled down his cock as you bobbed your head. He petted your hair mumbling that you were such a good girl for him, such a pretty puppy.

You kept going, using your hand on the part your mouth struggled to cover. He pulsed in your mouth, his muscles tightening as he spilled his hot cum down your throat. You wanted to keep going, and that’s when he really had to use his strength to pull you off and lift you into his lap.

From then on, that became part of your shared routine. He found it was a way to keep you occupied that didn’t take much work on his part. He’d come home, and you’d scramble to the door to greet him. You’d talk a little about each other’s days. Then he’d sit on the couch, already undoing his belt, and ask “Does my pup think she deserves a treat?”

You’d vigorously nod, tail wagging as you positioned yourself at his feet while he pulled his cock out. You’d take it in your mouth as soon as he let you and just shut your brain off. Chris would watch your eyes go glossy as you drooled all over his shaft and lapped at his balls. He realized that this was a way to feel close to him more than anything else.

The first heat you had while living with him brought you even closer together than the countless blowjobs. He basically stayed buried balls deep in you for an entire weekend. He pumped you full with load after load, only taking small breaks when he absolutely had to.

Even when you weren’t in heat, he felt like he could barely keep up with you sometimes. Your favorite way to play became to bounce on his lap till you couldn’t think straight or have him pound you into the mattress until it felt like the bed would break. He couldn’t complain though. How lucky was he to have such a loving pup?

Everyday with you in his life was brighter than the last. Today though, today was a very special day. Today was your birthday. He comes home from work, small bag in hand. As usual, the second you hear the front door shut, you rush to come see him. You fling yourself into his chest, nearly toppling him over despite your smaller stature.

“Woah, hey there, sweetheart. Miss me today?” he says. He ruffles your hair before wrapping his arm around you and walking to the kitchen. You were still clinging onto him as the two of you walked. Your tail brushes his back as it swishes with your excitement.

“Miss you everyday,” you murmur.

“Get in any trouble today, baby?” he teases.

“No, but the day’s not over yet,” you beam up at him.

He laughs lightly and shakes his head. “Well, I think I need you to hold off on that for a little longer cause I have something for you,” he says, lifting the bag and showing it off for you.

“A treat?” you ask excitedly.

“Mhm, a special treat for my birthday girl,” he says. He places the bag on the counter and smiles at you eyeing it with curiosity.

“What is it?” you ask, ears perking up.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” he says.

So you do. You tentatively reach forward and take the plain white tissue paper between your fingers. Pulling out the sheets, you drop them to the floor and tilt the bag into your line of sight. Pale purple fluff sticks out of the top. You pull the object out and find a pretty stuffed bear, another you could add to the growing collection on your side of the bed. You look up at him, beaming. He laughs softly and shrugs.

“Glad you like it, pup. I got one more thing in there for you though,” he says.

He takes out a small square box and opens it. After he puts it on the countertop, you see it’s a cupcake decorated with pretty purple frosting. While you admire the color of the dessert, Chris reaches over you and sticks a candle in the top. He lights it up and tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m not gonna sing for ya, but I want you to make a wish,” he says softly.

You didn’t even know what to say. No one had ever even celebrated your birthday before let alone been so nice about it. You take a moment to contemplate what you’d even wish for. He steps closer and hugs you from behind, rubbing your arm.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. I won’t even ask what you wished,” he whispers and plants another kiss on your head.

You finally decide and blow out the candles. You then turn to him and hug him like you did when he first walked through the door. His hand runs over your head. He cracks another smile hearing you mumble a thank you.

“You’re welcome, baby. Just wanted you to have a nice birthday. You wanna eat your cake now?” he says.

You look up at him and shake your head. He would have been confused, but he recognizes the look in your eyes. You’re up to something. There’s a plan forming in that pretty head of yours.

“Oh? Why not?” he asks.

“Well, remember last night. You said we could do whatever I wanted tonight, and I said I had to think about it. But now I know,” you say as you take a step back from his large frame.

“And what is it that you want to do?” he asks, following with a pace in your direction.

You walk over to the door leading to the backyard, and your goal starts to become clear to him. “You were bad today, Daddy. You left the back door unlocked. Woulda been so easy for me to get out and run away,” you say with that mischievous lilt in your voice.

“Oh, but why would my puppy want to do something like that on her birthday? Thought you were my good girl. Good girls don’t behave like that,” he says, joining your game without hesitation.

“I am a good girl. But I get so bored,” you whine, “Need to run around.”

You open the door and step out onto the porch. He follows along, a knowing smirk rising to his face.Your tail goes back and forth behind you

“If you want to do that, you ask Daddy. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you Daddy knows best. You can’t be trusted out here on your own. You’ll get hurt and then come running home, crying. And you know it breaks my heart to see my baby upset,” he says.

“I wouldn’t do that. I’d be fine. Don’t need Daddy to take care of me,” you challenge. Despite your bratty facade, you could barely suppress your grin.

“Wow,” Chris says and places his hand on his chest, feigning hurt, “Who knew my puppy was so tough, hm? Is the same girl that whines me for more kisses? Clings to my legs every chance she gets? The same girl who begs me to breed her every single night? Maybe I’ve spoiled you too much. Made you an ungrateful little brat.”

Your face heats up and your ears fall. You struggle to think of a good response.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles, “So c’mon pretty puppy, get back in the house, and we’ll eat that cake in there. Bought it just for you.”

You shake your head. “It’s my birthday. I get to do whatever I want. You said so yourself, can’t take it back now,” you say before bolting out the gate and through the grass to the vast sea of trees behind the house.

He shakes his head and starts running after you. “Sounds like the only thing you want right now is for me to teach you some manners and pound that little cunt into the dirt,” he calls after you.

Your laughter carries through the open forest air. You prance over tree roots and under branches, occasionally looking over your shoulder to gauge how far behind Chris was. He bounds across the dirt along your trail. He tears through the foliage, biceps flexing against his shirt as he pushes the plant life out of the way.

Excitement courses through your limbs. You're breathing hard, your heart slamming against your ribcage while gliding through the woods. He’s gaining on you quickly though. Yeah, you were fast, but he was fast and had longer legs. If he wanted to, you’d be caught already. But a big part of the fun for you was the chase.

After a bit more running though, he decides it’s time to call it. He runs with extra speed for a few strides and lunges towards you. You squeal as he tackles you to the ground. He made sure you were engulfed by him though, shielded from any potential harm.

You both roll through the dirt, but at the end of your tussle, he’s on top, pinning you against the earth with a thud. He smiles down at you.

“Oh no, looks like my puppy’s birthday plans have been ruined,” he breathes while looking down at you in your compromising position.

“Mhm, it’s your fault meanie,” you whimper, attempting to jab your knees into his sides.

He dodges the weak attacks and laughs. “Too bad. I’m a meanie, and you’re my little brat. That’s just how it is,” he says as he begins pulling your clothes off you and piling them up nearby.

“Daddy!” you whine and swat at him, “Someone could see!”

He chuckles at that. He tears your panties off you and flips you over onto your stomach with ease. Leaning forward, he speaks into your ear.

“Yeah, and what are they gonna see? Just a responsible owner training his naughty little puppy. Don’t think anyone would object to that.”

He yanks you around some more, getting you into position. Your cheek is pressed to the dirt while your ass is in the air. He holds your hip and grinds his clothes bulge against your soaked pussy. You whimper from the sensation, rocking your hips onto the material as much as you can in his grip. You leave behind some slick on the fabric once you’ve pulled away.

“Look at you. Such a messy baby. We’re gonna have to train that out of you too,” he says.

Before you know it, his pants are down just enough for his cock to spring out. He lines up with your entrance and starts pushing in. Your walls embrace him like always, as if welcoming home. He groans from the warmth that squeezes around him while you gasp from the stretch.

He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he starts pumping himself in and out of you. You whimper and dig your fingers into the ground, seeking some form of leverage for yourself. His hips bump into you over and over, dragging your soft cheek against the dirt.

“I’m not hearing any of that attitude now? What happened, pup, ten seconds on daddy’s dick, and you’re fucked stupid?” he mocks.

“No!” you mewl. Your hips are rocking back into his, meeting every single thrust.

“Whatever you say, birthday girl,” he grunts

He’s not gentle right now. His hips connect with your ass at a rapid pace, the clapping echo sounding through the trees. His fingers are digging into your flesh, his teeth poke his own lip as his own pleasure floods his body.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve had to teach you this same. fucking. lesson. You need your daddy,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a thrust, “You’re so stubborn, pup. Gonna have to do this even more than usual to get you to loosen up.”

You babble protests against the dirt and weakly shake your head.

“What’s that?” he asks with a particularly harsh thrust, “Talking back still? Guess I haven’t done good enough yet.”

He keeps up his thrusts, maintaining a consistent speed, but increasing the power. You jolt with each stroke. Your hands curl into complete fists. You cry out, your legs twitching in the dirt. Soon enough, you’ve given up on playing defiant and willingly fall into submission for him.

“Mmm, daddy… feels… feels good. Best daddy in the whole world,” you slur.

“Yeah, now that you’re getting some cock, I’m the best daddy ever. Funny how that works,” he teases as he continues to drill into you.

He watches you squirming on the ground beneath him. He leans down closer to you, pressing his muscular front to your back, letting you feel his size, how easy it is for him to keep you in place and use you for his pleasure.

“You know, sweet baby, I think I’ve got a solution for this problem you keep having, but don’t worry it’s one you’ll like,” he says.

“Wh- mmph- what is it?” you ask around whimpers.

“I’m just gonna have to do what you’re always asking. Gonna have to breed my pretty little puppy,” he answers.

“Gonna- gonna breed me?” you repeat.

“Yeah, baby, gonna breed you. Stuff you full of cum. And if it doesn’t take out here, don’t worry, I’ll make sure it does at some point tonight. Gonna have you carrying my babies by the end of the week,” he grunts with a smack to your ass.

You moan and nod excitedly. “Yeah, yeah, want it,” you slur.

“Oh, I know you do, and think about it, it will work out for both of us. You’ll be the prettiest mama for our pups, make me so proud every single day. And you’ll be too swollen to run off and get yourself hurt. Isn’t that great?”

A blissful smile spreads on your face. “Mhm, great. Smart daddy,” you say, your voice a clear display of how fucked out you are.

“Good girl. Daddy has to be smart to take care of his dumb little puppy, always causing trouble,” he says.

He felt you trembling hard, pulsing around his cock as you got close to cumming. He works himself deeper inside you, stroking all the places you need to reach that high point. A few more thrusts and you burst. You gush around him with a long whine. You squirm and buck as he holds you in place and keeps rutting into you until it becomes too much for him. He also lets loose and shoots his cum inside you. He fucks it into you a bit, before slowly pulling out.

You collapse onto your side, crumpling up on the dirt just like your clothes. He smiles at that, finding it so precious. He rubs your back gently and leans down to kiss your temple.

“Such a good puppy baby. My good girl,” he coos and scratches behind your ears.

He cleans himself off a little. It doesn’t take much work before he’s looking like he was before. You, on the other hand, are a whole other story. For you, he brushes the dirt off you as best he can, knowing you’re gonna need a bath after you take a nap. He then pulls your clothes back on, over your limbs which are mostly limp at the moment. Kissing your forehead, he scoops you up and starts carrying you back to the house. You’re all sleepy and clingy, tightening your arms around him and mumbling about how much you love him.

“I know, pup,” he reassures you, rubbing your back as he keeps heading towards the house.

Once he’s there, he takes you inside and flops down in his old recliner. He kicks it back and cradles you to his chest. You get comfy pretty quick, snuggling up to him and nuzzling his chest.

“That’s it, baby. Daddy’s got you. Get some rest, and then we’ll have some cake when you’re up,” he whispers.

You give one more drowsy nod before passing out on top of him. He holds you even closer, watching his precious puppy rest.

“Sweet dreams, birthday girl.”

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awesomestelias · 1 year ago

Text

Teddy Bear 🧸

pairing: chris redfield x fem!reader

summary: you cuddle with your boyfriend to stay warm during the night, but being so close to you gets him worked up even in his sleep

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, somnophilia, daddy kink, cockwarming

word count: 2.1k

a/n: i’m cold and tired and this is the result 😔 comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

You’re fast asleep in the cold darkness of your bedroom. The light of the street lamp outside leaks in through your window, streaming over your bed. You have the plush gray comforter draped over your body and your pale pink throw blanket tangled around your legs.

Though, the main source keeping you warm tonight is your space heater of a boyfriend lying next to you. Chris always ran hot in his sleep. His bicep was currently radiating heat through your head from its position beneath your cheek. He was on his back right now, mostly uncovered since you had the blankets.

You’re sleeping peacefully, soft breaths coming out in little puffs from between your lips. You stir when you feel the mattress shift as your boyfriend rolls over. Suddenly, you’re engulfed by his muscular form. His chest presses against your back, and his arm that’s not acting as your pillow wraps around your waist and snakes under your shirt.

You mumble some sleep-addled nonsense as he pulls you even closer and nuzzles his face in your hair. Your sleepy eyes crack open. With some slow blinks, you’re awake just enough to walk the line between consciousness and sleep. His relaxing warmth kept you trapped in that hazy state, unable to wake up fully.

He holds you like you’re his own little teddy bear. You squirm slightly, trying to adjust yourself as best you can, but it was difficult when his body kept you locked in that comfy position. A sleepy whine leaves your mouth as Chris nestles you deeper against his body. He grumbles softly at the noise but doesn’t wake.

Your presence was seeping into his unconscious mind. The faint sound of your whimpering combined with the pressure of your half-assed wriggling began to infiltrate his innocent dreams and transform them into something more explicit. Suddenly, you were all he could smell, all he could feel, and he wanted more. A craving for you began blooming the pit of his belly as the soft flesh of your ass brushed against his length.

By this point, you had basically acclimated to the snug position and begun falling asleep again. You were out of it enough to the point that you didn’t feel his cock start to grow stiff against your ass.

You had gone still, but it was his turn to move now. His hips gently rut against you in his sleep. He leans against your smaller form to get some more pressure on his dick. He mumbles something against your ear, his hot breath fanning over the side of your head.

“Baby, baby, baby…” he murmurs into your hair.

He continues rolling himself against you, getting harder with each small motion. He breathes deeper as his arousal continues to blossom, inhaling your scent as much as he can. It just makes his dreams more realistic. Makes him feel like he’s really got you folded in half beneath him while balls deep in your pussy.

His rocking movements aren’t enough to rouse you. What does wake you is when he starts messing with your blankets. He was still sleeping, only pushing them away out of a subconscious desire to have more of you. Haphazardly, he shoves the coverings down your legs and leaves your hips exposed to the cold air. He groans deeply once more of you is available to him. He could feel the warmth of your ass against the outline of his cock.

All you had worn to bed was a skimpy pair of panties and one of his shirts. It didn’t give you much insulation or coverage, so the cold air surrounding you was enough to draw you out of sleep and back into that dreamy middle ground.

“Chris…” you whine and squirm. You pointlessly tug on the covers to try and get them back, but they’re all tangled up between your legs.

While your noises come from a place of discomfort, they don’t register that way in your boyfriend’s unconscious mind. Almost as if you’re triggering some sort of prey drive, the delicate whimpering and fidgeting only boosts the primal urge within him.

“Good girl… daddy’s got you,” he mumbles.

Even in your dreamy state, that phrase ignites your desire for him. And to make matters worse, or maybe better in your case, his hand snakes under the faded gray fabric of your shirt and finds its place on one of your tits. At first he gently kneads it, but after only a few squeezes, his hot palm settles on your breast. It was almost like he did it for comfort, just something soft to hold while he pleasured himself with the mere feeling of your curves.

You shift your thighs together, searching for some friction. The increased movement has Chris shifting further on top of you and pushing you into the mattress.

His face rests in the crook of your neck, and you can sense he’s starting to wake up, the sensations growing too intense for him to stay completely unaware. His breaths become more shallow and less rhythmic. His grip on your tit tightens. You really couldn’t move him off now, his larger frame boxing you in.

“Chris,” you whimper again.

“Hm?” you hear his sleepy hum. His hips don’t stop moving.

“You’re crushing me,” you whine.

“‘M sorry, baby bear,” he mutters.

Despite his apology, he makes no move to get off you. It’s ok though. It doesn’t bother you as much as it would have because he called you that. One of your favorite things to hear. Those two words, baby bear. Always just made you feel so docile and content.

“Feel so fucking good,” he grumbles.

He keeps humping your ass. A small wet patch had formed on the front of his boxers from the precum leaking out of the swollen head of his cock. His fingers weakly massage your breast and lightly pinch and pull at your nipple.

“I wanna feel you too,” you say as slick begins collecting between your thighs.

He moans quietly and kisses your neck a bit. “Have I been neglecting my sweet girl? My baby needs some relief too, doesn’t she?” he tiredly coos.

“Mhm,” you whimper.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy’s gonna make it better,” he grunts.

He’s reluctant to stop the constant stream of pleasure he gets from rutting against you, but he forces himself to pull away just so he can shove his boxers down. He pumps his cock a few times before tugging your underwear aside and slotting himself between your folds.

He doesn’t push inside of you yet. He just rocks back and forth, enjoying how your arousal coats his shaft. It feels like he’s holding you tighter as he does this, but that could be due to the condition you’re in, drowsy with lust.

Both of you have your eyes closed, softly panting and moaning as you just feel the other. The tip of his cock slides over your clit multiple times, and each time his tummy flutters at the little whine you release.

“You’re so wet, baby. Did I wake you up or do you dream about me too?” he asks. He wasn’t too sleepy to tease. That was for sure.

“You woke me up,” you whine. You, on the other hand, were too tired to come up with any kind of witty response.

“Oh, ‘m sorry, baby. Not my fault though. Can’t help popping a boner cause you’re so fucking perfect. My dick knows it even when I’m passed out,” he says.

“Put inside, ‘m tired,” you whimper, not in the mood to tease while you were so sleepy.

“I know you are, baby bear. You’re being such a good girl for me. Letting daddy use you even when you’re so tired,” he mutters and plants some kisses on your face.

After what seems like an eternity, he finally angles himself to enter your warm hole. His hips move forward. He’s buried inside you before you can even comprehend the tip stretching you out. Your fingers clutch your pillow as you whine. Your legs squirm around a bit, but Chris makes sure you’re positioned how he wants.

“Good baby. I know you love that tight fit,” he whispers, “Are you feeling good? Getting what you need too?”

You nod mindlessly, simply happy to be full.

“Daddy…” you whimper. But this time it’s not a whimper of impatience or command. He hears the shift in cadence. Your little noise comes from a place of pure love. The need for him to hold you close and keep you safe.

“I’m here, baby,” he responds.

He starts rocking his hips, dragging his cock between your slippery walls. He lets out a deep groan and takes in a shaky inhale. Wet noises sound from your lower bodies connecting. His hand not on your breast slides down your body to find your clit and swipe at it through your slick.

“You’re so fucking wet. You love me using you like a toy. Humping you like you’re a little doll,” he murmurs.

“Mhm,” you whine. Your hips jerk as the rough pad of his middle finger swirls on your sensitive bundle of nerves, “Like when daddy’s needy.”

That makes him laugh a little.

“Yeah? Needy just like you, hm?” he teases.

You nod with a sweet smile on your face. He continues thrusting, motions becoming languid as he continues on. You’re both breathy and whimpering at different points, clinging to each other. You weren’t cold at all anymore despite the lack of blankets. Everything felt soft and warm now, comfortable and hazy.

It just felt so nice. You were pretty sure you would’ve fallen asleep again if not for Chris’s finger playing with your clit. The sparks of euphoria become more frequent and make you twitch and writhe in his grasp. You felt your peak approaching and he did too. He pushes down a little harder, in turn, causing your cunt to flutter around his cock as it slides in and out.

“Know you’re gonna sleep good after this, precious,” he murmurs as he tries to stroke even deeper, “You’re always knocked out after I fuck you good.”

“You’re gonna pass out too, probably gonna crush me again,” you whine.

“Of course, I will. Gotta keep my baby bear close. Make sure you stay warm,” he says.

His breathing gets ragged, and now he’s definitely holding you tighter. You know he’s definitely reaching the finish line as his finger spasm on your clit. The sharp movement nearly makes you cum, but you hang on for a little longer.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Get you nice and full so you can rest like you deserve,” he whispers.

His hips slap against your ass harder as he barrels towards his release. He’s grunting into your neck, holding you tight as your body bounces from the constant movements. He’s panting and you’re whining when, finally, his limbs lock around you and a long moan comes from his throat.

He starts spilling his cum inside you, making good on his word. He’s stuffing you full. His hips keep thrusting, ensuring it gets deep, completely flooding you. You shudder at the feeling and melt in front of him. As he starts to come down, he works his fingers faster, getting you to your own high. Just as he’s settling down, you reach the high. You jerk and twitch, eyes rolling back and hips bucking forward. He whines from the overstimulation of you contracting around his spent cock, but he pleasures you through it till you’re definitely finished.

The two of you lie there, both unwilling to disconnect from each other. You’re sinking into the mattress, already slipping back into the sweet depths of sleep. His hand falls from your breast and rises from your cunt to meet in the middle and hold you close by your waist. Lazy kisses land on your neck.

“Sorry I woke you up, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” you say.

“Guess not,” he chuckles and pecks you a few more times.

He stays inside you, keeping you wrapped around his now soft cock. It was comforting, soothing in a weird way. Gave you that sense of security you were always craving. You don’t want him to pull out. As if he can read your mind, he whispers in your ear.

“Get some sleep, baby. I’m staying right here. Gonna keep you full while you sleep, make sure this pretty pussy knows who she belongs to.”

You nod and nestle yourself into your pillows to drift off.

“I’ll keep you warm. You won’t even need to hoard all of the blankets now,” he teases before shutting his eyes and starting to drift off himself.

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