RE x Reader Fanfic

You were…

Restless wasn’t the right word. Neither was anxious. You were lonely and you were bored. And you missed him.

Wesker had walked out that door almost eight hours ago. He’d never left you alone for more than six before.

But here you are, bored out of your mind and approaching the eight hour mark.

You’ve already tried your usual time-passers. You’ve read a book. You’ve halfheartedly tried to paw off, but you didn’t get very far on your own. It’s not as fun without the thrill of being sneaky.

You’re not committed to disobeying his rules today anyway. Not after the scrap of praise he had tossed your way on his way out the door.

‘That’s my good boy.’

Such a small scrap, but you can still feel the faint glow of pride spark in your chest. Not just a good boy. Not just his. But his good boy.

Easy praise is such a rare thing from him; you’re almost surprised you’d even tried misbehaving at all. But then you remember how bored you are.

A soft huff escapes you. You glance again towards the door, as if you can summon Wesker by hoping hard enough. It didn’t work the first million times, but you can’t help but look again.

The second your gaze flicks away, the lock clicks. You’re all attention in an instant, refocused on the door with an almost giddy sort of anticipation.

It’s Wesker, and only the weeks of training with him keep you from springing up off your dog bed to greet him.

He doesn’t even look your way. He’s tense and stiff and his hands shake as he turns and locks the door behind him.

Your excitement cools into something more nervous. He hasn’t greeted you. He hasn’t even looked at you.

Wesker crosses to his desk and unlocks one of the drawers. One of his special drawers, the ones he never lets you go through.

Worry finally gets the best of you and you start to rise from your dog bed. “Wesker—“

“Sit.” His fingers snap and you obey without even thinking. You drop back down, heat suddenly crawling up your spine.

That was a new tone.

“Good pup.” He lifts his head and meets your gaze. His tinted sunglasses make his expression unreadable but the intensity in his body makes you shiver. Oddly enough, though, he seems… less stiff.

“So obedient today,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. “Did you have a good time while I was gone?”

You immediately open your mouth to speak, but you freeze just as fast. Something… something in his demeanor gives you pause. Something about the way his sunglasses catch the light, or about the way he’s standing…

You suddenly feel very much like prey.

But he’s clearly waiting on some sort of answer from you, so you swallow and latch onto the first idea you think of. “… woof?”

It’s so tentative and shy and you immediately flush with embarrassment, but that all melts away the second his lips quirk up.

“Good dog.”

Heat spills through you like melted butter on pancakes. It’s slow and thick and warm and makes every part of you fuzzy for one delicious moment.

Good dog. You’re a good dog. You’re his good dog.

By the time the fuzzy tingles calm into a low simmer in your core, Wesker’s gone back to rifling through his drawer. You watch him avidly, all your attention locked on him now.

He makes a pleased hum low in his throat and lifts out two leathery items and what looks like a little metal cage. It takes you a second to place what they are. The realization sends another wave of dizzying heat through you.

Mitts. And a muzzle.

Wesker advances on you slowly. Leisurely. Like a predatorial animal stalking up to its trapped prey.

Your instincts tell you to bolt. Your training keeps you sitting in place, but just barely. Your heart pounds in your chest and heat bubbles in your stomach.

He stops in front of you and you whimper softly. He leans down and gently tilts up your chin. “Such a good dog,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing along your lower lip.

Your lips part under his touch and he lightly strokes his thumb over your lower teeth for just a moment. You shiver and lick at his thumb but he pulls his hand back.

“Come, mutt.” He strides over to the little couch in the corner of his office, the one he never lets you on.

The rules are different today, though.

Wesker pats the cushion and you slowly stand. He says nothing as you walk to him, but his lips press together.

You swallow as you sit down, your skin itching with the wrongness of going against the rules he’s drilled into you for weeks now.

That all crumbles away as soon as his fingers stroke through your hair. You melt at his touch, nuzzling greedily against his forearm.

“Behave,” he chides softly, but his touch stays gentle. The muzzle feels odd on your face at first, but Wesker tightens the straps anyway.

You squirm a little as he slides the mitts onto your hands, but a sharp look from him has you stilling quickly.

A ‘sorry’ almost slips out, but you swallow it down before it leaves your tongue. Whatever mood he’s in, you don’t want to ruin it. You can behave for him. You can be good.

Wesker finishes tightening the straps on the mitts and steps back just a bit. He hooks his fingers into your muzzle and pulls your head up. Heat thrills down your spine and pools in your core at the little smirk on his lips.

“Such an obedient mutt for me,” he coos, his voice dripping with pleased mockery. His fingers slip down to your throat and he presses the smooth leather of his gloves to the sensitive skin there. The feeling makes you shiver and you whimper softly.

His smirk only grows. “All you’re missing now is your collar,” he croons, “A nice black leather collar to match the rest of your toys. Perhaps I’ll even be extra generous and I’ll request it be made from the same leather as my own gear.”

You can barely breathe at the thought. It rolls over you and zaps every other thought from your mind. All you can think of is being his. Of being claimed so definitively by him. Of being collared with something he’s had made for you and you alone.

Your whole body feels fuzzy. Tingles race through your nerves, lighting you up inside with heat and anticipation and excitement.

Wesker chuckles softly. “You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” He purrs. “Such a sweet thing; not a thought in your head, but a good boy regardless.”

You whine softly, melting under the warmth of his words. Your head is starting to fuzz up, shivers of heat rolling through your veins. You feel so good under his attention and he knows it.

You gaze up at him, eyes all hazy and speech just a little slurred. “Thank you, sir.”

He clicks his tongue softly but doesn’t reprimand you. Instead he steps back a little and slowly starts taking off his gloves. You can feel his gaze behind the dark glasses. He’s watching you. Relishing in your fuzzy-headed need.

“Not quite my good pup yet, hmm?” Wesker croons softly, his words dripping with sugary condescension. “Were your paws and muzzle not enough?”

He reaches out, and the warmth of his rough fingertips against your cheek makes you moan. You chase after the sensation but he clicks his tongue again and you still immediately.

“Greedy dog,” he murmurs, a faint smirk on his lips. “It’s a good thing that’s exactly the way I like you.”

He pulls his hand back and you almost manage to bite back your whine. Almost.

Wesker chuckles and begins removing his jacket. He draws it out, pulling it off slowly. Like he knows he has your full attention.

He’s careful with it, laying it gently to the side. He straightens up and exhales slowly. Like he’s pacing himself. Like he has all the time in the world.

Like you’re not drenched with heat, thrills of excitement shivering down your spine at the simple sight of him like this.

“What…” he murmurs softly, “am I going to do with such an eager mutt?”

Fuzzy heat washes over you again, turning your thoughts to scattered mush.

He idly works at his shirt cuffs, unbuttoning them slowly. Letting the anticipation only build higher and higher inside you until your breaths are coming in soft little pants and a quiet whine sounds in the back of your throat.

He glances down at you and smirks. “What a needy boy… So obedient and so docile for me. I’m almost convinced you deserve a treat for your behavior.”

His crooned words make you shudder with excitement. You want to melt. You want to whine. You want to drop to your knees and press your muzzle to his crotch and beg for him to let you show him how good you can be for him.

You can almost taste him in your mouth, his thick cock sliding over your tongue as he fucks your mouth. Using you like a toy for his pleasure, your only purpose to obey him. To let him use you and guide you and fuck you until you’re so full of him you can’t even think anymore.

Wesker chuckles softly, his words edged with mockery as he suddenly yanks up your muzzle. Forcing your hazy, bleary eyes to meet his own.

“Focus, pup. Or are you too fuzzy-headed to even pay attention to your owner?”

A moan builds in your throat and you shake your head a tiny bit. It’s hard to think of words. They slip around your head, dodging your desperate grasps by bare breaths.

Another slight tug to your muzzle drags your focus back to him. You whine softly, squirming a little to give even the tiniest bit of relief to your aching dick.

Wesker’s eyes darken and glint.

“Such a dumb little puppy,” he croons. “Too needy to think about anything but your achey little puppy parts.”

Vaguely you can feel the slightest flash of warning in the back of your mind but it’s so hard to grasp at the thought. You just whine again and let out the softest little “woof” in response.

The pleased look that crosses Wesker’s face makes heat blossom in your chest. His words from earlier echo in your mind, ‘good boy’ ‘good boy’ ‘my good boy’.

Wesker hums and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Revealing his toned arms to your hungry, hazy gaze. He’s never shown this much skin to you before and it makes you drool with excitement.

So much delicious skin for you to bite. For you to chew on and worship and claim. So much skin for you to bite and mark, claiming him as yours and yours only.

Wesker chuckles softly and smirks at you for a moment before nudging a shoe between your feet and kicking your legs apart.

“Look at you,” he mocks, dropping to his knees in front of you. He pushes your legs further apart, exposing your soaked boxers to the air. You’re drenched, so slick and so needy that you’ve soaked through your boxers onto the cushions beneath you.

“So needy for me,” he scoffs softly, before leaning in. “Just an empty-headed little mutt.”

He doesn’t even hesitate once as he presses his face to your crotch. He inhales deeply, groaning low at the rich scent of your slick.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, “My perfect pup.”

He pulls back just a bit, pressing his thumb to your needy hole through your boxers. You clench at the touch, pleasure sparkling at the touch. You’re so wound up and so needy and so on edge that even that makes you feel like you’re about to explode and melt into pleasure.

You whine and it strangles into a moan as he teases your hole again. You’re clenching and shaking and desperately trying to keep from squirming into his touch.

Wesker sneers at your shivering desperation. “What a pathetic mutt. Even your puphole obeys its owner.”

But his eyes betray him. They’re glazing, brighter than you’ve ever seen them. He’s so into this, into watching you squirm and whine and beg so silently for his touch. Into watching you reduce into a drooly whiny desperately needy toy for him.

And his own control is fraying.

His fingers tremble as he pulls down your boxers. His touch so gentle but so firm as he trails his fingers along your soft skin. Every brush of his hand leaves your skin buzzing and it goes straight to your dick every time.

Wesker’s breath catches as he glimpses your dripping hole. His eyes widen, his whole body tensing so tightly.

And then he yanks your boxers off and shoves his face against you. You don’t even get a second before he’s drinking up your slick like a starving man. His nose grinds against your dick, making you gasp from the sudden shock of pure pleasure that jolts your system.

It’s overwhelming and all consuming and you can only scrabble at his hair with your mitts as he goes down on you greedily. He moans against your hole, the tension melting from his shoulders as he fucks you with his tongue. He’s licking so deep, lapping and slurping up every drop of slick your puppyhole gushes against his mouth.

“Wesk—“ you gasp out, mind so dizzy and delirious and so fuzzed with heat that you can’t form a single thought. “Fuck—“

He growls against you, shifting his head to flick his tongue against your dick. Your brain turns to mush as pleasure explodes in your gut, winding throughout your whole body. You hunch over, gasping out silent sobs as he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe. He slurps and laps up your cum, sealing his mouth to your hole to drink up as much as he can.

You weakly and blindly bat and shove at his head, dick throbbing with entwined overstimulation and pleasure. He doesn’t even react, ignoring your choked whines like he doesn’t even hear them.

He just moans and drinks up your slick like he’s the one indulging. Like your pleasure is insignificant. He’s not this for your pleasure. He’s doing this for his own.

Time seems to blur for you. There’s nothing and no one, just Wesker between your thighs. Greedily going down on you with the same fervor and intensity he reserves for his research.

It makes you dizzy, the world tilting and folding around you as you gasp and grind fervently against his eager mouth. He’s moaning and growling and groaning against you. Lapping at your dripping soaked slick hole like it’s what he’s been craving his whole life.

You’ve never seen him like this. Never fathomed he could be so hungry for you. And here he is, edging you closer and closer to cumming again.

This one builds, making your toes curl in their mitts as it swells and crests inside you. You can’t even sob out his name as it melts over you, soaking your very bones in velvety, exquisite pleasure.

You just jerk and twitch and sob at the overstimulation. Your dick is throbbing, every bump and grind of his nose against it making pleasured pain spike up your spine. It hurts, making you delirious with how blissfully good it feels.

Your limbs feel heavy, your mind nothing but static and heat. You just pant, drool pooling in your mouth and spilling down your chin as Wesker growls and shoves closer. Desperate for one last lick of delicious slick.

You moan, weak and whiny and so pathetic.

Wesker growls again, but he slowly pulls back. Giving your stiff, throbbing puppydick a light nip that makes your body jolt and throb with heat all over again.

You feel boneless, weightless. Nothing in your head but the sound of your gasping breaths and Wesker’s soft huffs of breath.

He staggers to his feet, looking just as dazed as you feel. His mouth and chin and cheeks and nose are smeared with your slick. He carelessly swipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wild and intense and so full of greedy hunger it makes your puphole clench and ache with need.

“Look at you,” he rasps out. He fumbles and stumbles towards his desk chair, looking utterly wrecked. “Fucking tease, keeping that from me all the time.”

He runs a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, leveling you with a ravenous look. But he doesn’t say anything more. He just watches you. Watches the puffs of your breath and the pathetic dazed needy look in your eyes.

He wipes at his mouth again and sneers at you. “Get up, mutt.” His voice is so low, so raspy yet somehow so breathless at the same time. Like you’ve stolen the moans from his chest and made him just as delirious as you feel.

“Get up,” he growls again.

You force yourself up, but your mitts make you stagger. You collapse back down and he snarls. “Get up, mutt.”

It’s too hard to form thoughts and your limbs feel too clumsy and heavy and your brain feels just so fuzzy.

You whine and shudder and crawl to him. Fumbling on shaky limbs, your pup parts aching and throbbing the whole way.

He pats his lap and you struggle to obey. He just growls at your fumbled attempts and hauls you up. He settles you on his thigh, manhandling you into his arms.

“That’s it,” he croons, his voice velvety and dripping with condescension. “Grind against me, mutt. Be a good dog and hump your owner like a good boy.”

You whine and yelp as he grips your hips, forcing you to grind against the rough fabric of his pants. It’s nothing like the hot slick warmth of his mouth and it sends throbbing aching thrills throughout your whole body.

“Wesker—“ you gasp out, clinging to him as best you can with your mitts and heavy limbs.

He growls softly and nips your neck. A moment later you jolt with a cry of pleasure as he smacks your bare ass firmly. You shudder and clench and grind down hard against him, brain fuzzed out with pleasure at the tingling sting of the slap.

“Know your place,” he hisses. “Dogs don’t talk.”

You melt further into the haze, letting your forehead loll forward onto his shoulder. You pant and whine, struggling against the fuzziness as you desperately try to hump his thigh.

Your need builds and builds. The friction and effort finally making you break with a sob. “I can’t!”

Wesker scoffs. Derisive and mean. “Of course you can’t. You’re just my dumb mutt, so spoiled you can’t even get off without your owner there to work you through it.”

He sharply spanks you again, making you sob and jolt and cry against his shoulder. It feels humiliating and hot and you feel helpless in his arms.

“Please,” you sob out, “Please, sir, I wanna be good for you!”

Wesker hums low. His hand comes up and he pets through your hair. Gently scratching and stroking like he’s trying to soothe you.

“You want to be good for me…” he muses. “You want to be good for your owner…”

He clicks his tongue softly and stops petting you. He shifts you around and the friction against your throbbing dick makes you yelp and choke on a sob.

“Shush, puppy,” he murmurs. His voice is low, deep and firm. It smooths over the fuzz in your head, making your teary gasps soothe into soft whimpers as he lightly jostles you with his movements.

You press your muzzle into his neck, burying yourself for a moment in the comforting familiarity of his scent. You can feel him shiver a little under you, a curse hissed out through his teeth as he tenses hard.

You crack open your eyes, tilting your head to see. He’s gripping the base of his dick, teeth gritted like he’s forcing himself away from the edge of orgasm.

The sight of his cock pushes past your tears and fills your head with hunger. You start to drool again, avidly watching the way his dick twitches like he’s seconds away from spilling into his own hand.

It takes several more moments before his grip relaxes and he slowly exhales. “Fuck…”

His hands shift to your thighs and he lifts you a little. Effortlessly resettling you in his lap. His strength makes you thrill a little inside.

He guides you onto his dick, ignoring the hitch of your breath and whine from your throat at the stretch. You’re still soaked with slick and he pulls you down until you’re fully settled in his lap.

“That’s a good boy,” he groans softly, cupping the back of your head and tugging you into him once again. You melt into him, clenching around his thick cock. It feels so good inside you. Just filling you up and giving your needy hole the satisfaction it’s been craving.

You nuzzle against him, basking in his warmth and melting under the slow but firm massage of his hands against your hips.

You just cuddle for a bit, both blissfully relaxing into the heat and closeness of the other. His dick doesn’t soften even a little, but he seems utterly uninterested in it for now.

Eventually though, your body starts to recover. His touches aren’t even teasing, but slow smoldering sparks of heat start building in your gut.

You resist it for a while, struggling to just focus on the way he’s holding you so close. So carefully. Like you’re precious to him.

It only fans the flame.

You start to squirm, twitching and shivering at the firm way he’s massaging your body. You whimper and shift closer, trying to work against his grip to grind down. Your dick throbs with simmering heat, and you clench around him every time he rocks you a tiny bit closer to his body.

Your tongue feels so heavy in your mouth, your brain utterly empty of words. You just whine, squirming harder to get any sort of friction.

“Hush, pup,” he murmurs firmly. “You’ll take what I give you.”

You go still, excitement perking up at his words. But he continues to not do anything more.

You sit as long as you can again, but the need is building and you’re only a puppy.

You start squirming again and he clicks his tongue. A light smack to your ass makes you whimper and you settle down again.

But you can’t help it.

You go slower this time, driven only by the desperate need demanding that you get fucked right now.

His grip tightens on the second grind. His hand yanks up your muzzle, his gaze firm and glintly brightly.

“Pathetic,” he sneers. “Fucked twice and you’re still begging for more when your owner hasn’t even cum once.”

You whimper. That can’t be right… You’re a good dog. You’re his good dog.

You stop grinding down immediately, giving him a pleading look. But instead of softening, he just scoffs and thrusts up into you.

You jolt and moan. He’s big and thick and long and rubs against all the right spots inside you. It sends shivers of heat up your spine and you whine when he stills again.

“Come on,” he mocks, “I thought you wanted to be good for me. Or are you too spoiled to even ride my dick without my help?”

You whine again, but it turns into another moan as he thrusts up into you.

“Be a good dog,” he purrs, “Be my good little fuck toy and maybe I’ll cum inside you.”

That sends a hot thrill through you. Your muscles ache in protest but you start to grind and rock down against him. You even manage to shift up a bit, doing your best to obey him.

But the ache builds. And finally you can’t. Your legs are too weak from earlier and your body refuses to move. You whimper and sink down against him, burying your face in his chest.

He scoffs and clicks his tongue. “Pathetic little mutt…”

He grips your hips and starts lifting you. Up and down, slowly fucking you on his dick. Slowly.

It’s almost painful, the slow way his cock sinks into you. It’s rubbing oh so perfectly against you, but it’s not enough.

You whine and moan and whimper so pathetically, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. It’s not until a whiny, broken “please” tumbles from your lips that he finally pauses.

He tilts his head to look down at you, but his gaze holds nothing but smug cruelty. “Beg for it, mutt.”

You whimper again, but his eyes just glint at the sound.

“Beg for me, mutt, or this is all you’re going to get,” he sneers.

“Please,” you whimper out. “Please, I want it.”

“Aw,” he mocks, “you want it? Puppy wants a treat, hm? Puppy wants all the praise and all the attention, but can’t even fuck itself on its owner’s dick.”

You whine in protest, but he sharply spanks your ass.

“Use your words, mutt,” he growls. “Beg like a good boy, or I’ll shove the first thing I grab inside that greedy little hole and leave you to pleasure yourself with that only all night long.”

The threat sends spikes of heat racing to your dick and you clench hard around him. You moan, your voice breaking at the fuzzy thrill that fills your head at the thought. “Please, sir… Please just… Oh god, please, sir… Please fuck me, god, please…”

He stills under you and you almost sob. Your chin is jerked up, his gaze feverishly bright.

“Say it again,” he rasps out.

“Please,” you moan.

But he clicks his tongue, a scoff to his voice. “Not that.”

Your brain is so fuzzy, so hazy with desire and need and desperation that it’s hard to think. You fumble for any thought at all, grasping hard at the first one you can.

“Please, god?” You whimper. “Please fuck me…”

His head drops back. He groans, low and deep and so hungry it’s almost pained. His hips snap up, thrusting his cock deep inside you.

Your moan doesn’t even bubble past your lips before he starts to fuck you. Deep, fast thrusts, hands gripping your hips so hard you know you’re bruising.

He snarls and growls and moans, panting for breath just as loudly as you. Heat gathers fast in your gut, building hot and heavy and delicious as he fucks you greedily. He’s using you like a toy, like his own personal little fucktoy.

And it only makes it hotter.

“Sir, please—“ you gasp out, pleasure knotting fast and tight in your gut. “I’m close, I’m close, please!”

“Beg for it,” he snarls out, “Pray to your god and beg for it!”

“Wesker, god, my god, please—!”

His hips snap up and he forces you down, bullying his cock deep inside you as he cums. He keeps you there, shivering and moaning as he rides out his own high. Filling you up with his cum. Breeding you with his cum.

He just keeps you there, slowly loosening his grip with every passing second.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, and you’ve never seen him look hotter. He’s disheveled and flushed and his eyes look dazed and bleary and unfocused.

“You,” he rasps out, “are going to ruin me.”

You shiver with delight, slowly grinding down against him. Your pleasure is still simmering hot, but you ignore it in favor of basking in his praise.

He exhales and finally focuses on you again. His hand comes up, softly brushing his knuckles along your cheek.

“So devoted to your god…” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “And yet, I am nothing without your worship.”

You whimper, blushing hotly at his words. But it doesn’t draw him from his blissful adoration.

Instead he grasps you carefully, standing to set you on his desk. His hands slowly slide down along your hips… your thighs… down to your lower legs.

And he follows, sliding his dick from your hole with a soft groan.

His cum doesn’t even have a chance to drip from you before his tongue is there. Lapping gently at your hole.

It dizzies you, the shift in his demeanor. The pleasure and tenderness and warmth fuzz your mind, leaving you speechless and dazed as he kisses and licks his own cum from your hole.

It doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like worship.

Your orgasm builds once more and it washes over you, filling your veins with blissful heat. You shiver and melt, slipping boneless into his waiting arms.

He chuckles softly, reaching around your head to unbuckle your muzzle. You whimper softly as it slips from your head, but he catches your mouth with a kiss.

It’s an adoring, hot, filthy kiss that leaves your head spinning and your tongue coated with the rich bitterness of your mingled cum.

“Do you taste that?” He purrs in your ear, voice low and rumbly. “That’s devotion. A feast for a god.”

You melt further into him, nuzzling into his neck. He just purrs out more praise, lifting you into his arms effortlessly. Cradling you gently, keeping you safe and warm and satiated.

Keeping his good boy tucked oh so softly and oh so close against him.