Car Troubles? RE Men Don't Take Money as Payment
Having car troubles? Have no fear, your Resident Evil boyfriend is here! Teehee~
Just know, your partner expects a favour in return. It’s an eye for an eye, right?
CW: Heavy NSFW content; Smut (18+), MDNI
C: fem!Reader, established relationship
Characters: Chris Redfield, The Merchant, Leon Kennedy, Jack Krauser, Piers Nivans, Luis Serra, Jake Muller, Carlos Oliveira
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He’s rolling out from under your car on his creeper, forearms lightly coated in a sheen layer of sweat. Who knew the garage could get so hot?
While making some final adjustments, the bottom of his shirt bunches up slightly, revealing a sliver of his hardened abdomen, perfectly adorned with a dark-coloured happy trail. Suddenly, the rise and fall of his chest becomes painfully apparent to you, despite his own preoccupation with your vehicle.
“You’re engines up and running again,” he’ll finally say, satisfied with his own work. He catches your eye in an escape from his body to meet him.
The mood shifts instantly when Chris doesn’t reposition his shirt when he gets up, but rather closes the distance between you two. “Quite the well rounded man you are,” you say to him teasingly.
“Seems you’re already thinking about how to repay me,” Chris responded.
It takes all but two seconds for his dick to twitch, taking his trousers from loose to form-fitting. It’s a noticeable difference, the large bulge of his groin trapped behind a zipper, quite literally pulsating against its self-inflicted pressure.
Chris is already standing next to you in negative space, his length firmly pressing against your navel. The only barrier is each of your clothes.
His hands leave grease marks on your shirt as he pulls you closer to him, all while you gently palm his dick, his head slumped over your shoulder. He’s already whispering incoherently.
He walks you backwards, compressing you against the garage wall under his large frame, the prowess of his body completely shielding yours.
Releasing him from his boxers, the weight of his cock feels heavy in your hand. But toying with the pre that fervently built over his tip quickly catches the air in his throat. You’ll easily be able to pump his full length, your hands slick from his own secretions. Instinctively, he’ll begin to thrust his hips into your palm, his grip tightening against the small of your back when he’s close.
He finishes quickly on your shirt, his eyes completely locked with yours as he towers over you. His breath is hot as he pants fractions away from your lips.
“That’s enough payment for two car fixings, ya know?” You were just egging him on now.
Just looking at your car gets him thinking about how much he could sell each part for.
BUT! He did arrive to your aid, the wonderful partner he is, so he suppresses any thoughts of vulture work he may have conjured (but the shiny engine still calls his name).
He would dig around in his bottomless coat pockets for something useful, dropping a few herbs or stray bullets on your driveway. Pulling out a couple of unidentifiable metallic pieces, he lifts the hood of your vehicle and starts fiddling with the mechanics.
You’d silently hover over his shoulders behind him, watching him skillfully open certain parts of your engine that you didn’t even know came undone.
But, to your good fortune, the small distance between you and him was palpable enough that he became very aware of your existence.
“You know, you’ve been driving around bone dry here, mate,” he’d say in his raspy voice, motioning to your empty oil tank that just produced a ridiculously clean dripstick.
It was the perfect invitation to produce something lewd out of his comment, “Bone dry? Me?” You’d say, wrapping your arms around him dangerously close to his groin, yet still daring to venture lower.
You cup his dick every so slightly, only to find he’s already pumping blood down south. You maneuver his cloak just enough to release him, his dick getting heavier in your hand by the second. His steps into you, his back compressed against your chest, while his hips buck forward.
“Ah, you’re no stranger to me, love,” he’ll breathe out with his head leaned back on your shoulder. The hood of your car acts as a perfect veil to the racy behaviour going on just behind.
As you quicken the pace, the head of his dick grows distinctly pink, accompanied by the Marchant’s deep moans. He’s loud, he’s vulgar, and he’s not going to hold himself back from letting you know that he’s having a good time. Hot ropes spurt out from his tip from convulsions so strong you could feel him pulsating in your hand.
“You got anything else in the house you want me to fix up for ya?” He hasn’t even come down from his high, yet he's itching for another bargain.
It’s pushing 10 p.m. when you realize your car isn’t starting for your late-night ice cream run. Enter Leon S. Kennedy. He’s quick to pick up the phone and quick to arrive. “If we fix this now, it won’t be a problem in the morning, right? One less thing to worry about,” He’ll say to you with utmost sincerity and reassurance. He wants you to know you’re not exploiting him; he wants to help you (in any way).
After concluding that the blinking light in your car was actually something that needed to be looked into, Leon swept himself beneath your vehicle, leaving only his legs visible in your garage.
“I really owe you one, Leon. Truly,” you say to him, despite the fact that it seems you’re only speaking to two limbs at the moment. He brushes off your remorse, keeping his hands busy with the complexities of a car’s underbelly. But there’s something about the way his legs slightly shift when he repositions his grip. Or the way one knee gets propped up when a bolt is especially tight.
It’s instinctive, your movement towards him. All you did was sit on his lap while his upper half was hidden beneath the car. Leon briefly pauses at the unexpected contact, but continues working, as if curious to see how bold you get.
You innocently trace your fingers against his belt buckle, toying with the lower hem of his shirt, too. You could’ve sworn you heard his breath hitch from under your car. But all suspicions were confirmed when you felt Leon’s dick grow hard beneath you. Slowly, you began working your hips, gently moving yourself forwards and backwards against him. “I’m really grateful for your service, honey, coming out here at this hour just for me?”
It was as if your voice was his final motivation, as he pushed himself out from beneath the car, revealing the rest of his body to you. In one swift motion, Leon flipped you onto your back, lining your hips up with his. “The car's going to become a morning problem, isn’t it?” Leon says, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.
With great familiarity, Leon removes your pants and frees himself from his own. Two fingers press into you, squelching from how wet you are. “All this? Just from sitting on me?” Leon would coax while curling his fingers inside of you. He’s pressing perfectly against your walls, leaning down to give his tongue purpose for your pussy, too.
His right hand automatically clamps his own dick, pumping himself while eating you out. He’s moaning into you, the vibrations tickling your skin.
When climax hits both of you, the concrete floor is darkened from the sheer amount of liquid each of you produced. “We’ll have to hose this down,” Leon says.
“In the morning~” you reply.
Don’t think he came prancing over to your call; you got a lecture for allowing your vehicle to reach this state, and then he told you to “figure it out”. Fast forward five minutes, and he calls you back, telling you not to go anywhere so he can “manage your problems” for you.
Turns out a tire change was needed after Krauser found a nail that punctured your back wheel. After a lot of lever work and putting together bolts and nuts, your car found itself whole again with its shiny new addition.
“You owe me for that tire, princess,” He says to you. His voice is almost condescending, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re dark, completely focused on you, in parallel with a predator before it ambushes its prey.
Bravery strikes you (after all, you are dating the Jack Krauser), so you challenge the brute before you. “Owe you? Autowork is simply within your duties, Major.” Boy, have you done it now! Being in an authoritative position for so long hasn’t made bending to order an easy feat for Krauser. But somehow, the little confound is you.
Undoubtedly, he's taking you over the car hood. Your chest is pressed, rather held down, against the metal as Krauser uses his other hand to cup your sex. He’s simultaneously rubbing his hardened cock against your ass, grinding his hips against you to produce satisfying friction solely on his end.
“You got any more smart comments left in you?” He’d bark out before releasing himself from his pants. He won’t fuck you. You don’t deserve it. Rather, he’ll pull your pants down, leaving you in your underwear, and slide himself between your closed legs. You’ll be throbbing for him to fill you, but that's not on his radar.
His length furiously rubs against your clothed clit, leaving you only able to beg him for more. To feel him stretch you out. Seeing you babbling and so submissive burns a fire in him, so his compliance is not for you, but just to wreck you further.
Krauser will shift his angle instantly to fill you with his dick, collapsing his chest onto your back. His hips snap forward with utmost aggression, leaving your legs with no greater purpose than for decoration. It’s just that good.
He’ll cum inside you. You’re left sensitive, raw, and unfinished. You didn’t forget you owed him for the car, did you?
You and Piers were out for a late summer drive one night when your engine sputtered, forcing the two of you to haul the vehicle to the side of the road. Looking under the hood, Piers quickly concluded that a couple of dirty spark plugs were blocking ignition. Nothing a little rag couldn’t temporarily fix. But provided that the car was literally just on, the engine needed to cool for a bit before handiwork could take place.
Getting back into the car, you mindlessly flipped through the radio stations, trying to find something good to pass the time. It hadn’t yet become clear to you that Piers let his eyes wander a little too far across your bare skin. The summer heat caused a light sweat to break on you, tiny beads binding your shirt to your skin.
If anything, his mind needed a good cleaning instead of your engine, as his own short circuit led him to feel hot in his groin. The gentle expansion of his dick slowly pressed against the restriction of his pants. Still, Piers didn’t look away.
“Like what you see there, Piers?” You say, breaking the silence. He chokes on his answer, trying to combat his slip in discipline. “Sorry, I just…You’re—sorry. You’re beautiful. You know that, of course.” He’s stumbling over his words as you watch his face grow red, but your eyes bring you to the bulge between his legs.
“It’s not like we have anything better to do right now,” you say to him. Your voice is soft and velvety, leaving Piers more uncomfortable with how tight his pants were becoming. You get up from the passenger seat and make your way into his lap, straddling his waist with your legs. You slowly slide yourself up and down his hardened dick, before cupping Piers’ face in your hands. “Tell me what you want me to do,” you whisper in his ear, your tongue trailing against the lobe. Piers practically whimpers as he takes hold of your hips. He bucks himself against your pussy, both of you completely clothed.
He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue swirling against yours. Despite the physical barrier between you two, the friction Piers was producing was enough stimulation to have you moaning his name.
Piers pressed his head into your neck, licking the sweat that beaded on your skin. As his grip grew stronger against your thighs, the swelling between your legs reached its maximum, leaving your body in pulsating bursts. Piers quickly followed, driving his hips into you as if the clothing wasn’t present at all.
“The engine should be cool by now,” you say to him breathlessly.
“No, not yet.” Before you could question him, Piers relocated the two of you into the backseat, this time stripping the two of you entirely.
Sex first, car later. You guys had time to spare after all.
Safe to say, he’s a doctor, not an engineer. If you entrusted your car to his hands, the initial problem would expand tenfold. What started as an engine problem would turn into improper steering alignment. Don’t ask how, Dr. Serra doesn’t know. But perhaps, secretly, he’s too vain to want grease smears on his expensive clothing. He’s got to look his best for you, of course.
“Ah, mi amor, I’ll accompany you to the autoshop. Won’t want anyone looking at you too long, eh?” And that’s exactly what Luis does. Your car spends its afternoon in auto repair, while you and Luis take a drive up to a secluded lake. “Just for the magnificent views,” Luis would tell you as if seclusion wasn’t his prime motivator.
While the water was truly beautiful, Luis’ attention was focused on you. His eyes were heavy with admiration and lust, watching the way the waves reflected light against your skin. “How are we going to pass the time, carino?” He’d say to you, his grin perfectly symmetrical.
It wouldn’t take long for you to notice the large bulge between his legs, as Luis was shifting incessantly in the driver's seat to relieve himself of some tension. “Just admire the view, honey,” you say, tauntingly. You pierce through Luis with your eyes, captivating him until he's unable to look away. “I’m admiring it,” Luis responds.
Your hand would slowly travel up his thigh, trailing gently along his pants with your fingers. After what seemed to be an eternity to Luis, your hand presses against his hardened length, caressing his dick through his jeans. Luis’ eyes flutter for a moment before regaining his focus on you. Your eye contact is unwavering.
Unbuckling his belt, you undo his fly and pull his dick from his boxers. The tip is saturated from his pre, allowing you to take your thumb around the head with little resistance. Luis’ lips part as his breath becomes staggered. “It’s perfect, mi amor.”
It’s not long before he’s blatantly bucking his hips up into your hand, moaning confidently with strings of Spanish spilling from his throat. The sound of wet skin becomes deafening as he grips your arm before releasing himself. Hot, thick ropes coat your hand, as well as his own jeans and shirt. Not once did he break his gaze from you.
“Seems you won’t be able to come in with me to pick up my car, huh?”
“You’ll just have to take my card in with you, make sure you tell them your boyfriend is paying.” And you did just that.
This is literally the epitome of Megan Fox’s car scene from “Transformers”
You called Jake over to come take a look at everything, but now he’s observing you, arms crossed over his chest as you lift the hood of your car. “Your dripstick should have a yellow cap, it's to your left,” he’ll say to you without getting up from his looming position. “Yes, Sir!” You respond sarcastically.
After fiddling around, you quickly come to realize this was a problem you could’ve solved yourself. Maybe accompanied by a quick Google search, too. “Well, you’ve been helpful,” you say to Jake, closing the hood of your car. But turning back, he was already pitching his tent. While you concentrated on restoring life to your vehicle, Jake’s mind had wandered elsewhere. How you leaned under the hood to reach for a valve, or maybe it was the sliver of skin that was made evident when your shirt rode up from all the reaching. Whatever it was, you got his blood pumping.
For the first time, Jake got up from his spot and made his way over to you. “I have been helpful in making sure nothing blew up on you. I want my woman in one piece,” he said, spreading your legs around his waist as he propped you up onto the front of the car. The heat from his groin pressed against your sex, leaving you soaked in seconds.
Jake was quick to capture your lips against his. The kiss is sloppy, wet, and hungry. Without any hesitation, his hands slipped beneath your shirt, cupping your breasts with expertise.
You reached your hands down to release his dick from his pants, pumping its length a few times before Jake pushed your hands away. “Pretty eager, aren’t you?” He’s condescending, as if watching you fix a car didn’t just turn him on.
Taking hold of his cock, Jake ran the tip against your now bare pussy, sliding himself through your folds so as to lubricate himself.
With his own desperation getting the better of him, he pushes himself inside you, thrusting his hips relentlessly. At first, he’s all macho, telling you to take it. But when his own orgasm draws near, he’s holding your forehead against his, moaning your name as you clench around him. He won’t admit it, but it’s your finger he’s wrapped around.
He’ll pull out, finishing on your stomach. The sight invites him to smear his mess around on you with his dick, his face flushed from how good you made him feel. “So I fix my car and you get to cum?” Your remark is snarky; you’re challenging him.
Jake’s eyes lock with yours as he lowers himself to his knees, that cocky smirk permanently residing on his face. He buries his nose in your pussy, lapping up everything. Everyone wins.
The big, muscle man was very excited that you thought of him to come fix your car. It’s almost as if he were your boyfriend…Alas.
The two of you stood confused and unsure in front of the open car hood. Despite a car manual being in hand, you guys weren’t getting anywhere. “Here’s a weird fucking engine,” he’d say to you as if he’s come across many regular engines in his lifetime.
You sigh in defeat, deciding your best bet was to take it into the autoshop where an actual professional could diagnose the vehicle. Carlos, of course, protests this. “What kind of boyfriend am I to not be able to fix your car?” The pout is practically full-blown on his face. It’s as if the president directly handed him the annual “worst partner” award. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him.
“You’re a great boyfriend, Carlos. You came here without second thought to help me,” you say, trying to get him out of his head. You make your way over to your sad golden retriever boyfriend, who has made himself comfortable in the back seat of the car.
Seeing him laid out, arms above his head with his hands over his face, sent bolts of energy through your body. The bottom of his shirt was just slightly disconnected from his pants, exposing his happy trail to you. You couldn’t help but reach out to touch it.
Carlos shot straight up, his head nearly budding into yours. “You know, good boyfriends deserve rewards,” you say to him, your lips just a fraction apart. With your hand now resting against his groin, you could feel him expanding beneath you. “And how do you plan on rewarding me?” Carlos questions, a huge smile spreading across his face. You get into the back seat with him, positioning yourself on your knees between his legs. Carlos is completely fixated on you, his hands gently brushing hair from your face.
You unbuckle his belt, pulling down his pants to expose his dick. The weight of it causes it to fall to one side, resting over his thigh. You watch it twitch with life.
Taking him in your mouth, you gently bob your head over the tip before you take him to the root. Carlos’ mouth falls agape as he watches himself disappear and reappear with indefinite lust. His tip kisses the back of your throat, but he lets you pace yourself, never interfering with your rhythm.
His hands wander fervently across your body, reaching for any inch of exposed skin for him to touch. His moans grow louder as you feel him begin to pulsate against your tongue. Before he finishes, he pulls you off of him, guiding your mouth to his. His hand clamps around his dick as he furiously pumps his length to release himself onto your shirt and some unlucky corner of the car.
Even though Carlos couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the vehicle, cleaning it was another thing. That he could do. You can now present him with the “best partner” award.
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