Jocelyn 'Chucky' Royce

He stifles the urge to comment further. Wondering if, like animals, they are so easily appeased. He'd never bother to try. But it's an odd - perhaps even humorous thought to consider.

The cool air hits and he hardly seems to react to it. Even when a few flakes of snow are dusted against him, melting as they touch those fleeting parts of his body that aren't covered up. He should be blue lipped by now. Chattering and shrinking back the way that she does. But he only sighs. Taking in the crisp air as if it were the most wonderous thing - the closest anyone here truly has left of winter in the real world.

The offer brings him back to the moment. He nods. Slowly. Carefully it would seem.

"Sure. I do not have anywhere else to be right now."

Normally, he'd refuse. Wander away and find another realm to skulk. But he isn't in the mood today it would seem.

She walks behind the bar and places various bottles on the counter followed by a surprisingly clean glass, which she lightly nudges in his direction. "I think you're the whiskey type, but in case I'm horribly wrong, help yourself."

chipotle order?

thoughts on veganism?

a specific color that gives you the ick?

mythical creature you think/believe is real?

favorite form of potato?

do you use a watch?

what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

on a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?

anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

first thing you’re doing in the purge?

do you think you’re dehydrated?

rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning

thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

an anxious compulsion you do everyday?

your boba/tea order?

the veggie you dislike the most?

favorite disney princess movie?

a number that weirds you out?

do you have an emotional support water bottle?

do you wear jewelry?

which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

would you say you have good taste in music?

how’s your spice tolerance?

what’s your favorite or go-to outfit?

last meal on earth?

preferred pasta noodle?

ask me anything !

The mention of disliking people, now that he agrees with. Even if his expression does not reveal that fact. He watches the snow fall softly over the railing. Inhaling that rich, cool air that he knows isn't real even if it feels like it should.

The old lodge creaks and groans softly around them. Absence of life, save for the crows that hover here and there across the realm. This may not be the most stagnate place in The Fog, but he's certain it is damn near close.

"I do not come here very often." He admits after awhile, suspecting she is not going to leave until he answers her. "Frank and his merry band of little misfits annoy the hell out of me but this place is the only one with snow. And that I enjoy."

A gust of cold wind hits them, and Jocelyn frowns while quickly pulling up the zipper of her leather jacket. She'd love to go back inside and have another glass of whiskey to warm her up, but she doesn't budge. For some reason he emanates so much calm that Jo almost feels comfortable around him. Weird.

INDIE. SEL.  Depiction of HUNK from Resident Evil

Penned by Pigeon

Dead By Daylight and Resident Evil focused | Contains mature themes (strictly 18+)

"Come here." He growls, lifting her up off the couch with him. She wraps her legs around his waist, and Frank feels the heat of her bare chest pressed against his as he carries Jo over to the bed - accompanied by hungry kisses. He lies her back on the mattress, slipping her pants and underwear off before dropping to his knees on the floor. His fingers trail lightly up her thighs, making her skin bloom with goosebumps. His lips brush her inner thigh, teasingly pecking kisses before nibbling at the sensitive flesh. His eyes stay locked on her. Watching her squirm against the sheets, body aching for his touch as he focuses his attention anywhere except where she truly wants.

"Fuck, Frank. Please…" He grins to himself. He knew it. He knew that he was able to make her beg for him. With a pleased sound he dives forward. A content sigh coming from her as he finally delivers. Frank holds on tightly to her hips in an attempt to keep her still as skilled fingers now add to her building pleasure. Her fingers cling tightly into his hair, back arches off the bed as she comes. He crawls up to kiss her, leaving his jeans in a pile on the floor. Without much warning he grabs her waist, pulling her over to straddle him once again. His eyes locked between the two of them, mouth agape in a choked back moan as he watches himself disappear inside of her inch by inch. "Fuck baby…" he groans, his head cocking back in the moment of exquisite pleasure. "Fuckin' hell…" In a daze, he reaches for her hips. Warm palms clutching her naked flesh as he tries to ground himself, trying to stay coherent in the frenzy of sinful pleasure. He watches her rolling her hips, grinding herself against the hardness of his dick, causing both of them to moan in unison. Their eyes meet again, and there's something predatory in the way she looks at him. The heavy breathing, the smirk, the way her brows are knit together. Frank can't tell if Jo is going to fuck him or kill him. He arches his back, rutting into her until they're both panting and moaning for more. They meet in the middle - her lips dance across his in a passionate tango of lust and obsession. "God-" he gasps, hissing when she bites his lower lip, pulling it when he tries to pull away. His chest rumbles in a low chuckle. He pushes his body flush against hers, grinding into her. "You're so fuckin' hot." She lets out a cheeky laugh. Her hands roam along his chest before sharp nails dig into his flesh. She makes the most addicting sounds he's ever heard. Frank lifts his hand to caress her face - thumb tracing her lips before pushing past them. Jo rolls her tongue around it, sucking until he pulls it out with a wet pop, and moves it down to rub circles between her legs. Her moans become guttural and her eyes darken. There's something else hiding behind her surface, scratching and gnawing against her from the inside. Frank can see it, feel it. She's the most beautiful thing he ever had the chance to lay his eyes on. Maybe she's just as sick as he is. Wanting to give herself to him. Letting him fuck her however he wanted, and giving him whatever he wanted. But he is just as devoted to her as she is to him. He'd kneel and beg for her. He'd let her use him as her toy and he'd do anything for her. They are both a blessing and a curse to each other. She gasps, back arching and eyes rolling. Jo claws at his shoulder, drawing lines of beautiful crimson down his chest as she rolls her hips. As soon as her body starts to spasm, his hands disappear behind his head to white-knuckle the bed frame. Frank hisses, thrusting his hips up in time with hers, setting a rigorous pace. The bed creaks loudly as their bodies collide with one another. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and bites down, hard - drawing blood in the process. Ragged sighs of profanity fall from his lips.