#zwrites

- the ultimate Switch™, leon loves to dominate and be dominated equally, his favorite is to combine both in one session where he lets you play around with him & take control before he teaches you who’s really got the upper hand

- huge praise kink, again, both to be praised and to shower you in it

- will straight up ask “am i good boy?” when going down on you

- has a way of making you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while he pushes himself deep inside of you

- 7.5 inches, not skinny but not super thick, with well maintained, blonde hair & a super pink tip

- read this somewhere else and i agree, it’s basically canon that leon is a munch & a half

- spends actual hours between your legs, making sure he licks and sucks at all of your weak spots; you have to literally push him off or he will keep going even after making you cum over & over

- loves to get messy in it, burying his face in you, not caring how much of your arousal & his spit gets on his face & neck

- like, amaaazing at eating ass

- favorite position is any variation of doggy; whether he’s got you face down, ass up, one foot right next to your face as he drives into you; or maybe fucking you from behind, pressing you up against his chest with his strong bicep around your neck

- very vocal, moaning & telling you how good you feel, how good you take it

- i think he could very well have a mommy/daddy kink when subbing, not every time but would occasionally love to have you treat him like a dumb little slut and put him to good use

- loves when you tie him up & ride him

- always wants to finish inside of you, super into watching his cum drip out of you afterwards

- sometimes, he’ll lick all his cum out of you & fuck you on his tongue until you can’t take anymore

- big into sucking & playing with your nipples

- has an album on his phone of all the selfies you’ve sent him that he jacks off to when he’s away on missions

- cums on his phone on purpose to see your face covered in it <3

- makes you the best hot chocolate after sex

- puts on an old movie, brings you in close to cuddle & gives you lots of forehead kisses afterwards

- would fuck you every single day if able to stupid BOWs

two figures enmeshed with one another, kissing and clinging to each other with the kind of passion you only ever see in the movies; and then the screen fades to black and the credits start rolling. reaching over to grab the remote, you click off the historical romance, sighing to yourself.

now, the only sound that floats through the air is the faint snoring of your best friend passed out next to you. for as long as you’ve known her, claire cannot help falling asleep during movies. over time, you learned that this could be an advantage, giving you leverage to choose every movie night.

you lay back down on the cot next to her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to force your mind to quiet itself and let sleep find you. eyes fluttering closed, images from the movie float through your mind; the dancing scenes, beautiful gowns, mr. darcy confessing to elizabeth and their breathtaking kiss.

if only real life was like that

your eyes snap open, your brain’s attempt at finding enough peace to slumber unsuccessful. you glance over at claire’s alarm clock:

1:13AM

head hitting the pillow with a thump, your fingers come up to massage your brow; fuck, you’re still so awake.

frustrated, you sit up and lean back on your palms; nibbling at your lips, you feel how dry they are. the popcorn you and claire gorged yourselves on earlier had left you feeling parched. pushing up from your cot with a creak, you exit claire’s bedroom, softly turning the knob shut behind you.

you head down the short hallway, fluffy slippers shuffling quietly across wooden floor planks. a framed picture catches your eye, one of the only decorative items in their home. it was a photo of a young boy and younger girl; claire and her older brother, chris.

you’d known the redfields since elementary school, quickly becoming best friends with claire after you moved to raccoon city in 4th grade. over the years, you and her had gotten into your fair share of trouble and adventures, always remaining close.

you’d known her older brother, chris, for just as long. the thought of him made your mouth run even dryer, heart skipping a beat; it was a not-so-secret that you’d had a fat crush on him since forever. countless times claire would tease you about how awkward you got around chris.

“it’s just soo funny, cuz he's actually the grossest person in the world.”

you couldn’t help it, the heart wants what the heart wants. besides, who wouldn’t have a crush on chris? he was strikingly handsome, able to melt you instantly with his blue gaze and wicked smirk; you also knew the tender side of him, seeing how he basically raised claire and himself since childhood.

you reach the kitchen and flick on one of the dimmer lights, trying to be as imperceptible as possible. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you pour yourself some much needed water. as the crisp drinks hits your tongue, you give a small sigh of relief.

“damn, thirsty much?”

startled, you choke on the water, sputtering droplets you desperately try to hide with your hand. glancing over at you from across the kitchen with a well natured tease in his eyes was a hulking, brunette form: chris.

“jeez, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he apologizes with a grin.

he strides across the kitchen, tearing off a paper towel and handing it to you.

“…thanks.”

you dab it at your mouth, feeling a hot blush spread across your face; chris had an annoying way of always catching you in your most pathetic moments.

“you didn’t scare me, just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake.”

leaning back against the kitchen counter, you try to compose yourself a bit. chris moved towards the pantry, pulling an amber bottle of whiskey from the top shelf.

“want a glass?” he offers, turning towards you.

remembering the last time you’d drank brown liquor, you shake your head at him, grimacing slightly.

“i shouldn’t, but thanks for the offer.”

chris shrugs, moving to pour himself a glass at the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“suit yourself.”

after the glass is half full, he takes the bottle back to the pantry and comes to sit at the island. he gestures with a nod to the chair next to his. heart pounding, you slide into the seat, clutching your water glass as if it were a stress ball; you turn towards the muscular man.

“what are you doing back? claire said you’d be gone for a while.”

sitting back in his seat, chris brings his cup up to take a deep sip.

“finished the job early, got to come home early.”

knowing you won’t get a clearer answer from him, you nod dimly.

chris’s job was shrouded in secret; originally a member of a specialized police force, he’d been promoted a couple of years ago and now worked exclusively in vague assignments. he’d be gone for weeks, then would pop back up with cool souvenirs for claire, and always some trinket for you.

“well, i’m glad you’re home safe. it’s kind of weird when you’re gone, claire worries about you a lot.” you tell him, twisting your hands in your lap nervously.

you weren’t used to talking to chris one on one, claire usually being the buffer between you two. it was thrilling, cold shivers coursing through your veins. fuck, he was so hot.

“hmm… what about you, you worry about me?”

your eyes snap up, meeting his stormy, blue gaze. he’s looking at you with that damn smirk, whiskey swirling in his glass. he’s trying to get a rise out of you, using your obvious crush to tease you. you take a deep breath.

“of course i do, wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

the brunette man chuckles under his breath.

“well thanks for caring so much, sweetheart. cheers.”

he raises his whiskey towards you and takes a swig, nearly finished with the glass.

cheeks burning at the casual way he calls you the pet name, you take a sip of your water to steel your nerves, glass slick with condensation.

“don’t be stupid, you’re like my brother, chris.” you tease back at him.

he shifts back in his chair, turning so his lap is facing you, glass now empty. damn, he drinks fast. his gaze has turned darker, glazed over with an emotion you couldn’t identify.

“but i’m not your brother, y/n.” he states gruffly.

chris’s eyes rake over you, and a trickle of knowing sneaks into your brain; no, it couldn’t be. you’re clutching the edges of the island with white knuckles, tethering yourself through the coil of nervousness that churns in your stomach.

“no, you’re not. but i do really care for you, chris.” you respond breathlessly.

the hulking man moves himself closer to you, enclosing your smaller legs with his own. you try to hide how you’re trembling in front of him, not wanting to reveal just how shaky he’s got you.

his hand reaches out to rest on your thigh, leaning into your space.

“i care about you too. i think about you when i’m gone, your pretty face and how nervous you get around me.” chris breathes out lowly.

this felt like something out of your daydreams; head spinning, your ice cold glass is the only thing tethering you to reality. chris’s thumb starts making circles into your plush thighs and you breathe out shakily.

“you think i don’t notice how you clam up around me? it’s adorable.” the older man smiles down at you.

you’re still speechless, brain stalling while trying to comprehend the unreal situation in front of you. chris shakes his head to himself, still grinning.

“there it is, so cute. come here...”

he closes the distance between you two, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. chris’s lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, kneading his against yours tenderly.

you’re frozen at first, locked into place with disbelief. after the initial shock wears off, you tilt your chin to deepen the kiss, hungry to taste more of him. his tongue slips out, smoothing over your bottom lip before taking it into his mouth, suckling on it softly.

you moan into his mouth, unable to contain the elation that feels like it could burst from your chest. a tinge of worry sneaks into your brain, suddenly reminding you of the impossibility of your situation. you pull back from chris, heart stinging at the sudden absence.

“chris, we can’t, claire will be so mad at me…” you trail off breathlessly.

chris doesn’t pull back, staring intensely at you with his hypnotizing gaze.

“claire’s not here, sweetheart. she’s probably been passed out for a while, right?”

you swallow and nod, not able to lie to him. he cracks a smile, and pulls you in closer with his hand still resting on the nape of your neck.

“c’mon, let’s take this to the bedroom. don’t wanna wake her up.” chris rumbles to you lowly.

˚.⋆꒰১ ໒꒱⋆.˚

“fuck, baby, you feel amazing.” chris groans to you under his breath, careful not to raise his voice.

your brain is turning to mush, pinned underneath him in a prone bone position as he buries his thick cock deep inside of your fluttering pussy. the weight of him presses flush against you, muscles tensing as he plows into you with a force that makes your eyes roll into your head.

a whimper slips out of your throat, high and needy, and you instantly regret the noise. exhaling heavily, chris wraps his arm around to cover your mouth, a silent command to stay quiet.

your hands come up to grasp at his strong forearms, scrabbling for anything that can help you remain in reality. with each thrust, chris splits you in two, his cock bullying it’s shape into you over and over. it’s literally breaking your mind, all you can do is arch your back up to meet his thrusts and take it.

the soft plap plap of chris’s balls slapping your wet pussy and steady creak from his bed break the silence in the room as he stretches you out.

“such a good fucking girl, been waiting to feel this pussy for so long.” he growls, right above your ear.

a part of your cockdrunk mind registers his words, sending a gush of slickness to your messy cunt as you can only breathe out in desperate spurts. a bit of drool has collected at the sides of your mouth, coating chris’s palm.

keeping his hand clamped around your mouth, chris uses his other arm to flip you over onto your back, pushing your thighs apart and driving back into you effortlessly. you pant against his hand, unable to control yourself, not when his cock is glancing off of your cervix with every thrust.

as he pounds into you, chris reaches over your head to grab a lacy scrap of fabric; your panties, a damp spot at the gusset. balling them with his fist, you feel a sudden absence at your mouth. before you understand what’s coming, chris gently shoves the panties into your mouth, fingers resting on your bottom lip as he pushes them in.

your eyes are wide and glazed over with desire as you peer up at chris, spit already coating your underwear. it’s so indecent, so dirty, and so fucking hot. you were being pounded by your best friend’s brother, drooling on your own panties, trying to hide the noises that are being ripped from your throat as your orgasm mounts.

chris shifts his position, both hands free now. he presses your thighs back as far as they go, pushing your sopping wet pussy higher up and allowing him an even deeper angle to rut into you.

it doesn’t take much longer for chris’s strokes against your sensitive spot to send you into a spiral. your fingers scratch at his firm arms, searching for any purchase as he fucks you through your climax. a white hot wave uncoils from your stomach and you cum around his dumbly huge cock.

you clench around him, muscles feeling weak as they meet the resistance of his rock-hard cock. his strokes start getting erratic, chris barely taking his member out of your overstimulated pussy as he thrusts in and out. unable to take any more of your tight, wet walls, chris suddenly rips his cock free from your entrance with a wet pop, and his cum shoots onto your stomach, hot ropes hitting your trembling pelvis.

he pumps himself through climax, a deep groan emanating from his throat, barely audible in the dim bedroom. when he finally stills, he sits back on his knees, gazing over you with a lazy lust.

“that was even better than i imagined.” he admits to you, voice barely above a whisper.

you nod back at him weakly, feeling like a broken doll as you slowly come back to your senses. chris plops down next to you, taking you into his arms and pressing you close to his chest. you nuzzle into him, inhaling his delicious, musky scent.

he holds you close, rubbing his wide palms up and down your arms, and places a kiss on your forehead. you sigh with contentment, but a thought clouds your mind after a moment. pushing up your elbows you look at the brunette man worriedly.

“shit, i have to go, what if claire woke up, she’s probably wondering where the hell i am.” you stutter out, fear flooding your heart where desire had just been residing.

chris rubs the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed.

“i’m sure she’s still passed out, relax, baby.”

you push out of the bed, quickly grabbing your clothing tossed haphazardly onto the floor. as you dress, thoughts of claire’s reaction if she ever found out about this flood your mind.

chris sighs on the bed, shifting himself to sit on the edge. he watches you dress, appreciating the fleeting glimpse of your body as you shimmy back into your sleep t-shirt.

he stands up, reaching out to catch your wrist in his strong grip.

“sweetheart, if keeping a secret means this can happen again, you have my word. don’t worry, claire won’t find out.”

you gulp; part of you wants to accept his words without further thought, but another part of you knows just how messy this could get.

turning to face his door, your hand rests on the knob, twisting it open silently. you glance back at chris, feeling your heart soar as you remember how long you’ve waited for something like this to happen. your eyes meet his, finally able to stand under his gaze without melting into a nervous wreck.

“okay, it’s our little secret. goodnight, chris.” you whisper the last part to him and give him a small smile as you close the door behind you.

breathing in deeply, you tiptoe back towards claire’s bedroom, passing through the kitchen. you flick off the dim light as you think to yourself, emotions running rampant.

what did i get myself into…

𖥔. ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 𖥔

sfw 🎀

- has never been to pride before, never felt like she had the confidence to go by herself and never had someone to go with her; the smile on her face at her first pride event makes your heart soar with affection.

- loves stealing your clothes, claims they fit better than her own.

- you stole one of her many hoodies in return; a dark grey FBI sweatshirt.

- sweet grace is not a very good chef, but not for lack of trying. after an extremely burnt pasta one night, you have to sit her down and gently let her know that you are taking back kitchen duties.

- honestly she’s totally relieved, she doesn’t even like cooking, just wanted to take care of you.

- her favorite clothing store is uniqlo; simple, cute, and well-made.

- first time you take her to a lesbian bar, gracie can’t believe how popular she is. not that you’re surprised, i mean, look at her. you spend the night fending off her suitors, secretly enjoying it.

- her favorite type of date always includes a fun activity the two of you can conquer together: duo pottery, a couple’s cooking class, hiking a new local trail, etc.

- super protective over you, not in an agressive way, but in a ‘gifts you a life alert bracelet in case anything happens and she can’t get to you immediately’ way. what are you, an 85 year old?

nsfw 🖤

- you think her eyes are going to pop out of her skull when you show her your expansive collection of dildos, strap-ons, and other toys.

- ofc you assure her it’s all up to her if she wants to play with any of them; to your surprise, she goes straight for a plain, moderate sized black strap-on, asking shyly if she can use it on you.

- said it before, but she is such a service switch, you’ll never find someone that wants to make you feel good more than grace.

- even though she’s eager, she’s still pretty inexperienced, taking a few sessions to really find a groove to fuck you with and fumbling to put on the strap at first.

- has a knack for giving you the deepest, most passionate strap, thrusting into you with as much love and devotion as she can show you. once she finds your g-spot, it’s over.

- gets more erratic and desperate when she senses you’re about to cum.

- lowkey a size queen, her pussy gets super wet and receptive and you’re a bit surprised by how well she takes your bigger toys.

- sweet girl loves taking your biggest dildo once she gets comfortable; hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

- really shy at first to ask for sex but the more she opens up to you, the more you notice she has a pretty high sex drive.

- loves when you play with her while she’s asleep, often working late nights and loving to wake up to your fingers and tongue.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 𖥔

bonus little drabble

“part your lips like this, gracie.”

you open your pouty lips, bottom one jutting out slightly from the pose you had her replicate before this one. the blonde girl drops her mouth open ungracefully trying to mimic you, eyebrows knitted with her unfamiliarity of all things makeup and beauty.

you're sitting on her lap, legs perpendicular to hers, so that you have full access to her pretty face. you giggle, glossing over her plush lips with a sparkly, peach-scented lip oil from your personal stash. your girlfriend was not much of a makeup girl, but you couldn’t resist dolling her up before the house party you and her were headed to tonight.

“beautiful! now, let me do your eyeshadow and we’re done.” you assure her.

“o-okay, i trust you.”

although her trembling voice didn’t sound at all trusting, you know grace well enough to tell she’s anxious about going to the party. your girlfriend is so cute, the complete opposite of your extroverted, experienced self. smiling at grace, you try to soothe her nerves a bit.

“why don’t you pick out the color? i know you’ll look good in anything.”

you display the eyeshadow palette to grace, letting her take it into her slightly shaking hands. the blonde woman analyzes the palette with as much scrutiny as she would a report at work; you can’t help but giggle a bit under your breath.

“it’s okay gracie, there’s no wrong choice! just pick your favorite color.”

grace looks up, still puzzled, with a growing pinkness that flushes over her nose and cheeks.

“yeah, um, how about this one?”

she points to a pale, cool grey with flecks of blue glitter; a perfect compliment to her stormy eyes.

“great choice, babe, this is going to make your eyes look gorgeous.”

you finish the sentence with a flamboyant ‘chefs kiss’ motion, making the blonde woman giggle under you, her nerves settling. she rubs circles on your thighs with her thumbs, resting her hands there while you make her up.

“eyes closed, beautiful.”

you use the pad of your ring finger to pat the shadow onto grace’s eyelids, going for a wild, abstract look. the color is very pigmented, the blue glitter highlighting her wide, doe eyes and adding a sultriness to her gaze that you weren’t used to seeing in your girlfriend. grace flutters her eyes open, squinting a bit as flakes of powder dust her eyelashes, not used to the feeling of having product on.

“there, you’re finished! wow baby, you look super hot.” you praise her.

“not that you don’t always look hot but damn, you’re making my heart skip a beat.”

grace blushes profusely; she always does when you compliment her so readily. it’s like she doesn’t even know how her soft eyes and lips drive you crazy, pale skin just begging you to touch it. you trace your fingers around the outline of her face, appreciating both her natural beauty and the colorful makeup you used to highlight it.

“t-thank you. you did really good.” she replies, glancing in the mirror.

grace smiles at you with a cute little expression, clearly still nervous but trying to push through it. your sweet girl, always so brave.

your hand traces down lower, stopping to play with the spaghetti straps on grace’s top; another item borrowed from you.

“easy to do good when your canvas is so gorgeous… tell me pretty girl, do you want me to help with your nerves?”

grace’s eyes widen, immediately realizing what you meant. she gulps, gripping your thighs subconsciously.

“w-what do you mean nerves? i’m okay.”

your hands stop their fiddling with her straps and drop even lower, finding their way under her shirt and ghosting over her stomach. grace inhales sharply, heartbeat increasing due to your attention.

“just wanna touch you before we leave, how can i resist?” you coo at the girl under you, rubbing circles into her waist.

grace is already a mess under you, breath hitching when your thumbs creep upwards. you drop your lips to her jawline, slowly placing kisses across the planes of her pretty face. she shivers under you; you love making her come undone.

“okay, y-yes, i mean, of course! if you want to…”

the blonde girl trails off, unable to finish her sentence once your exploring hands find her soft, perky breasts. the top you leant her has a built-in bra and you easily find your way underneath it, flicking your thumbs over grace’s nipples.

she moans under you, submitting to your ministrations. you know she loves when you play with her nipples, being highly sensitive to her breasts being touched. after flicking and rubbing at her pink buds for a few moments, grace is a puddle in your hands, gasping and moaning at your every touch. you need her in the bedroom, now.

you hop off of her lap, turning back around and grabbing her hand to lead grace to your shared bedroom. there was a 7-inch, pink silicone strap-on in your nightstand that was calling your name and begging to be in grace’s guts.

“follow me, gorgeous.” you tell her with a wink.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 𖥔

sfw 🎀

- despite wesker being a pretty great chef, chris cooks most of the time; simple, hearty meals that he ends up eating double of whatever albert has.

- they have separate hobby rooms - chris takes the garage to work on his old cars and weapons, and wesker has a basement lab decked out with a cigar lounge.

- favorite date is going to the movies; they both have such vastly different takes on whatever they’ve just watched that makes for hours of conversation.

- chris loves action, comedies and fun horror movies, while albert prefers dramas and documentaries (he has a soft spot for period pieces, coughs pride & prejudice).

- they have one of those mattresses where you can adjust each side, no other option.

- lowkey a bougie as hell couple; chris likes to pretend he’s not as particular as wesker but always chooses the most extravagant vacations and spends way too much on his car collection.

- chris loves whiskey, old fashioned; albert loves wine, red in particular.

- wesker is highkey very jealous; chris is a bit, but not nearly as much as the blonde man’s all consuming need to know that everyone knows who chris belongs to.

- cat dads meow ₍^. .^₎⟆

- wesker’s wardrobe takes up 80% of the closet; chris still feels like he doesn’t need as much space.

- that couple that has the same schedule pretty much every week - rotating the same roster of restaurants and date venues and being homebodies most of the time.

nsfw 🖤

- wesker tops most of the time, he does enjoy having chris fuck him sometimes but in a service top role.

- chris is an oral fiend, both receiving and giving; he loves making wesker fall apart on his tongue.

- wesker likes sucking chris’s dick just fine but really loves eating him out more; he knows how to make chris cum just from his fingers and tongue in his hole.

- being macho men, a lot of the time their stand offs or arguments lead to aggressive foreplay and eventual rough sex.

- they love shower sex, a great way to destress after a long day.

- big into toys, vibrators, cock rings, all sorts of fun gadgets.

- wesker loves tying chris up, once in a blue moon he will indulge wesker’s shibari fantasies and really let him go at it.

- chris loves the rare times wesker gives him control, pounding the hell out of him and relishing in making the composed man submit.

- mutual masturbation is big (especially when they get older, sometimes just touching each other is enough to take the edge off).

- chris always makes them tea after sex <3

⊹₊˚ ︵‿₊ ୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ ୨ᰔ୧ ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊ ୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚ ₊⊹

notes: this screenshot kinda makes me laugh bc i just imagine this is them if u bumped ur cart into them at the grocery store or smth lol

- #1 biggest dirty talker; he loves to try and embarrass you with degrading pet names and comment on all the reactions he fucks out of you

- gets down and dirty with oral sex, he revels in licking and exploring every hole and sensitive spot (beware of beard burn)

- very much has a power kink - heisenberg needs to feel in control and will use his telekinesis and inhuman strength to aid him in bed to keep you sweet and submissive

- to be honest, i don’t see him giving in easily if you want to dominate him, you’d really need to warm him up to the idea and even then i think he’d want to take back control of the session eventually

- 8inches and super fat, like almost 4inches girth but tapered slightly, pretty dark shaft with a slightly pink tip, pretty hairy

- loooves when you call him ‘sir’ or ‘lord’.

- has a bedroom hideaway next to his workshop, his favorite place to take you after fingering you on his work table

- would love to practice BDSM with you, making you lick and ride his boots, restraining you with metal clasps and flogging you, maybe even making you a custom chastity belt that only he has the key to

- high sex drive, pretty much wants it every day and when he’s in a mood or it’s a full moon he gets extra stamina and will crave you for round after round

- very much into predator prey dynamic and would be thrilled by the chance to role play a scenario where he stalks you through the factory

- would want you to cockwarm him while he’s working; either sucking him under the desk until he cums, or sitting on his cock while he tinkers away, trying not to move too much (he smacks your ass every time you try to slide up or grind into him)

- favorite type of underwear on you is leather

- spanking and choking during sex are pretty much givens with karl

- you have to teach him about aftercare, he’s still not amazing at it but he shows care in his little ways, like bringing you a hot cup of romanian tea afterwards or showing you a new fidget toy he made for you.

- self conscious about his body; at first he kept his shirt, pants and glasses on but when you ask him to take them off, he gets a little embarrassed of his scarred face and torso. ofc you assure him all the time how sexy and handsome he is to you which definitely helped his confidence.

- only time he slightly gives control is when you ride him, his guilty pleasure.

- loves cumming deep inside of you, several times if he can; breeding kink asf

bonus werewolf!heisenberg headcanons bc i can’t resist

- first time he takes you in wolf form, he tries his best to restrain himself, until you beg him to go harder, faster, and he obeys, losing his composure and rutting you into the ground until he pumps you full of his first load.

- loves to watch you loosen yourself up for his knot with various toys in the days before changing; eventually, he makes you a custom metal based silicon replica of his knot he can control and fuck you with.

- gets a bit carried away sometimes and you come out of full moon time with scratches and bruises; he apologizes profusely when he changes back and personally doctors you up.

- addicted to taking you on the forest floor, under the moon.

- very territorial, not letting any other lycan get remotely close to you; the ignorant few that wander upon you and karl are quickly dispatched. turns you on like hell

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺ 　 ✦

darkness presses in, swallowing the faint light that filters through the slits of the locker you found yourself cowering inside of. having been separated from the other reagents in your crew and hearing the telltale signs of several ex pops, you had no choice but to run and hide.

desperately trying to catch your breath, you hear the dismal sound of one of your fellow reagents being dispatched in the other room. a shiver crawls up your spine as you silently pray to avoid a similar fate.

your breath catches in your throat as heavy footsteps echo through the room, getting closer and closer... the locker door creaks open suddenly, revealing a silhouette that blocks out the room’s dim light.

a tall, masked figure stands in front of you, and you scramble against the back of the locker, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

it's the pitcher.

he moves with an unsettling strength, his movements quick and precise, immediately clasping his gloved hand around your neck. unable to speak, you choke under his grip, hands uselessly trying to force him off.

his mask is plain metal, expressionless, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze as it sweeps over you. he doesn't speak, just watches, and your blood runs cold as you imagine all the horrendous things he could do to you. silence stretches out, your choked breaths the only sound cutting through it; you're frozen like a deer in headlights, every nerve ending screaming RUN.

as if your situation needed to get any worse, you hear another set of footsteps, lighter, quicker than the first, quickly getting closer.

just my fucking luck.

turning your head as much as possible, you see the pusher leaning against the doorframe, tapping his pressure sprayer menacingly and cutting off any exit from the room.

"well, well," he drawls, his voice a high-pitched rasp that scrapes against your ears.

"what do we have here?"

the pitcher doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge him, but you see the slight tensing of his muscular shoulders. the air crackles with a tension so thick you could taste it. you're trapped between an immovable object and an unstoppable force, and you had a feeling you weren’t getting out of this situation easily.

"hey, she’s kinda cute" the pusher continues, pushing off the doorframe and striding further into the room.

“you thinking what i’m thinking, big guy?”

the pusher comes in closer, like a shark assessing its next meal.

"what’s got you so scared, sweetheart?"

he leans into you, trailing a dirt-caked finger along your bottom lip, a touch that sends a jolt of pure terror through your body. you flinch, grabbing at the hands on your neck holding you into place, trying desperately to find an escape.

"get away from me." you choke out, your voice trembling.

the pusher laughs, a sharp, unhinged sound.

"or what? you'll scream? who do you think is coming to save you here?" he leans in close, breath hot against your ear.

just as he's about to say something else, a new sound cuts through the tense silence; a labored, raspy cough that cuts through the cold air. from the shadows in the corner of the room, a figure detaches himself from the darkness.

the night hunter, all gangly limbs and jagged teeth, steps into view.

“heard you having fun.” he slurs.

his presence is a physical weight, a promise of violence that makes your skin crawl and the addition of the night hunter shifts the dynamic entirely. the monstrous man lurches forward, teeth chittering unnervingly.

the pusher straightens up, backing away from your trembling form. even he, a predator in this place, seems to hold a degree of caution around the man in the night vision goggles. the pitcher, however, remains unfazed.

with a sudden movement, he yanks you from the locker by your neck, and pushes you against a nearby table, crowding you in with his body. his gloved hands come up to frame your face, the leather cool against your feverish skin. he still doesn't speak, but you can hear the low, steady rumble of his breathing behind the mask. his touch is not violent, but it is strong and unwavering, a claim being staked.

a choked sob escapes your throat as you're trapped between the hard, wooden table and the solid mass of the pitcher's body. you can feel the heat radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cold room. knowing the two other men were an audience to this treatment sent waves of repulsion up your throat.

the pitcher's thumbs brush over your lips, a gesture that’s almost gentle, somehow more terrifying than outright brutality. his head tilts, eyes wide and searching, and you know he's studying every little expression of fear and confusion on your face.

the thumb on your lip presses past your lips, flooding your mouth with the taste of dirt, leather, gasoline, and the irony tang of blood. the pitcher pushes his thumb around, feeling every corner of your mouth; your eyes sting with tears of embarrassment at this invasion.

the hand not assaulting your mouth comes to find your flimsy, murkoff-issued top and sports bra; with a brutal tug, the fabric rips open, the sound tearing through the room’s tense silence. the cool air hits your exposed skin, pebbling your nipples into tight, aching points. you gasp and try to cover yourself, but the pitcher catches your wrists in his massive hands, pinning them to your sides.

the pusher lets out a low whistle, admiring your exposed form. the night hunter growls, mouth lolled open and drooling.

the pitcher’s hand returns to your body, tracing the curve of your waist, before dipping lower, his knuckles brushing against the waistband of your pants. he pushes past your plain underwear to find your most sensitive spot; you gasp as he starts messily rubbing your pussy.

the rough leather of his gloves provides an overstimulating pressure to your sensitive clit, rubbing his digits back and forth without any real rhythm or care. despite the feeling bordering on pain, his attention sends pangs of arousal straight to your core.

you bite your lip, trying to hold in a moan, but the masked man’s fingers are unrelenting. you cry out in pleasure when his rough fingers find your aching hole.

“shit, making the bitch wet already.” the pusher commentates.

without another moment's hesitation, the pitcher stills his ministrations on your wettening pussy, only to hoist you up onto the table as if you weighed nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for purchase.

you feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against you through his apron, a promise of what's to come. he pins you to the table with one arm, while the other fumbles to pull out his member. he finally takes it out, pumping himself to full hardness.

the pitcher is big; his cock is thick and veiny, with scars running along the entire length, and his head leaking with precum.

with a guttural groan that's the first real sound you've heard him make, he positions himself at your soaked cunt and thrusts into you in one brutal, unprepared stroke.

a cry is torn from your throat at the sudden, overwhelming stretch. he's impossibly thick, and the burn of it mingles with a dark, blooming pleasure that shames you to your core.

the pitcher sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving the air from your lungs and grinding your back against the unforgiving wood. his grip on you is ironclad, one arm banded around your waist, the other braced against the table beside your head. the sheer force of him is overwhelming, a primal power that leaves no room for anything but submission.

the pitcher continues bullying his cock into you, each thrust as splitting as the first. your eyes roll back in your head as he manages to hit your cervix with every push into your tight, gummy walls. you feel yourself growing wetter and wetter, the lewd sound of him fucking you betraying your body’s reaction.

your mind is screaming, but your body is a traitor, arching into him, your legs tightening around his waist as if begging for more. a lewd moan slips free from your lips.

“can’t believe you’re actually getting off to this shit, slut.”

from across the room, the pusher's appreciative groan cuts through the slick, obscene sounds of the pitcher's assault. you can't turn your head much to see, but you can hear the crude slap of skin on skin, and you can tell he’s enjoying this way too much.

"that's it, big guy," he pants, his voice tight with arousal. "give it to her, look at her taking it."

his words are filth, degradation that stings even as it sends another jolt of that shameful heat through you.

farther away, the night hunter is a menacing figure of horror, pacing around restlessly. his night vision goggles remain fixed on the crude scene, absorbing every detail and twitching with feral need.

the pitcher's movements become more erratic, his thrusts deeper and more forceful; the sound of his breathing behind the mask grows harsher. the scarred man’s rhythm stutters, a deep, guttural growl vibrating from his throat and through your entire body.

he buries himself to the hilt one last time, a punishing thrust that forces a choked cry from your lips. you feel a hot, pulsing flood inside you as he spills himself, painting your cunt with his release.

he holds himself there for a long, tense moment, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. when he finally pulls out, the sudden emptiness is as jarring as the initial intrusion. the wiry, scarred man lets go of you and backs up, chest heaving, as his release and your own slickness trails down your inner thighs.

the pusher is on you before you can even catch your breath.

"my turn." he snarls, his voice raw with desire.

he shoves the pitcher aside with surprising strength, and the larger man stumbles back a step before simply retreating to lean against the opposite wall, mask turned to watch.

the pusher doesn't give you a moment to recover; he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. he pulls you forward, bringing you to a standing position and kicking your legs out with his heavy boots.

“get on your knees." he commands, but he doesn't wait for you to comply.

he forces you down, the rough concrete floor scraping against your palms and knees.

he doesn't bother with any foreplay; with one hand gripping the back of your bruised neck, he lines himself up to your abused cunt, still leaking the pitcher’s release, and slams into you with a cry of pure satisfaction.

his rhythm is different from the pitcher's - not the relentless, powerful drive of the silent man, but a frenzied, frantic energy, muttering a stream of filthy praise and degradation under his breath.

"look at you, fucking taking it," he pants, smacking your ass with a loud crack that echoes in the small room.

"so wet for us, fucking hell. you love being used, don’t you?"

each word is a humiliation, but the force of his thrusts is rocking your body, rubbing against a spot inside you that makes your vision white out with pleasure, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy.

“thaat’s right bitch, take it all," the pusher growls, his voice ragged and ecstatic against your ear.

his thrusts become even more erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own end.

"look at you, a mess on the floor, dripping with that mute freak’s seed and now taking my load. such a good little reagent for us, aren't you?"

he's using you, your body nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure; just a warm, tight hole to chase his climax in. you’ve abandoned all shame, panting and moaning as he bullies your insides as your own release mounts.

the pusher groans, a long, drawn-out sound, and then he stills, his hips jerking as he empties his cum deep inside of you, adding his to the pitcher's.

you can feel it dripping out of your punished pussy, another warm and sticky flood. he stays there for a moment, panting, before pulling out with a slick, obscene sound and giving your ass one last, possessive smack.

"all yours, creep," he pants, stumbling back.

you're left trembling on the floor, a wreck of fluids and aching muscles, your mind a fog of pleasure and pain from your denied orgasm. the two men are silhouettes against the wall, waiting for your final humiliation.

you gulp, remembering the other presence in the room.

a soft, shuffling sound draws your gaze upward; the night hunter ambles towards you, shamelessly fisting his cock. he stops before you, crouching slightly, night vision goggles glinting in the darkness. his mouth hangs open, tongue salivating, and you swallow a shudder of disgust.

he doesn't hesitate for any longer, his long, spindly fingers hooking under your chin, forcing your head up and his thumb pries your mouth open. you try to struggle, but your body is spent, a broken doll after the brutal fucking you've endured.

he roughly jabs into your mouth, forcing your lips apart, and his cock presses against you, the tip gnarled and bulbous. it tastes of salt and dust and something sterile, like antiseptic. with a rough push, he slides into your mouth, the ridges catching on your tongue.

he pushes himself deep into your throat, panting and stilling once your nose is pressed against the base of his cock. you can't breathe, your throat convulsing around the intruder as he begins a frantic, sloppy thrusting, fucking your face with a desperate need.

the night hunter's thrusts remain invasive and torturing, the monstrous man taking his time assaulting you. his ridged shaft fills your throat, cutting off your air until your vision stars, only to retreat just enough for you to snatch a desperate, ragged breath before it plunges back in.

your body is slack, an unwilling vessel for this disgusting violation. you force your throat to relax, eyes rolling in your head as you disassociate. from across the room, the pusher's sharp laughter cuts through the wet, slick sounds of your throat being used.

"holy shit, look at her go." he jeers, his voice dripping with a mixture of awe and contempt.

"takes a monster cock like a fucking champ. who knew you had it in you, reagent?"

you close your eyes, trying to pretend you’re anywhere but here. after countless minutes, the night hunter stills; his cock pulses in your mouth, a fluttering throb against your tongue. a second later, a flood of warmth erupts down your throat. it’s thick, almost viscous, with a sour and metallic taste that coats the back of your mouth.

you have no choice but to swallow, your throat convulsively around the still embedded organ as he pumps his seed into you. he finally pulls out of you once you start choking around his softening cock.

you collapse forward, coughing and gasping, and the night hunter shambles back, tongue lolling in pleasure. your body is a canvas of bruises, aches, and sticky fluids and you feel utterly broken. the pusher saunters over, crouching down to get a better look at you. he nudges your shoulder with the toe of his boot.

"you're a mess." he says, but there's no real malice in it, only a kind of lazy satisfaction.

"a hot, fucking mess."

he stands up, glancing at the pitcher, who gives a slow, deliberate nod.

"go on," the pusher says, waving a dismissive hand toward the only door to the room.

“get the fuck out of here."

shakily, you push yourself up to your feet. you hurry away, wiping at your mouth listlessly as you try to process what had just happened.

“see you next time, sweetheart!”

the sound of the pusher’s taunting echoes through the halls as you desperately move towards the shuttles, hoping you somehow still have time to escape the trial.

there was no telling what other horrors awaited you if you managed to get stuck in here overnight with those monsters.