#harperhydra

Her fingernails digging into his flesh created a sting that burned in the best possible way. It offset the pleasure that rippled through him in undulating waves, keeping him from reaching the pinnacle before she did. He liked to draw it out. To make her cum over and over again until sensation was lost below the waist right down to her toes—numbed by overstimulation. Their hips colliding in a way that would almost be painful if not for how she rolled her pelvis up into his. He could feel the muscles in her thighs flex around his waist from the effort. It made him press in at an angle that sent little shockwaves through the both of them whenever he buried himself up to the hilt in her.

Helena was vocal, more so than him. He was quieter, inclined to soft grunts and hitching breaths. The kiss muffled her sounds but he needed it, needed to taste her. When it broke she was repeating his name over and over again, like he was a deity and she was in supplication. In a way she was with how she begged for more. Leon provided, without hesitation. He pulled out fully then pressed back in, doing this several times as if to make a point. To let her be reminded how empty she'd feel without his cock to fill her. He rose up to lean on his haunches and pulled her closer, his knees on either sides with hands supporting her legs as they rested atop his thighs.

Squinting against the bright light beaming down on him, Zeno maintains a steady gaze with the man standing before him. His expression is one of calm neutrality he does not feel against the visible frustration of his assigned interrogator, currently holding a glass of water in front of the clone's face. Not that Zeno could reach for it anyway, not with his arms bound behind his back and in restraints designed to contain B.O.W's stronger than him.

Send 🍫 to give my muse some candy.

He put his hands over his ears to muffle the inevitable, hearing destroying bang that followed. His hearing's not great, of course, but it didn't mean he had an investment in keeping the paltry sense he had left.

"Well they don't sell the model to civilians so it wasn't easy, but Hunnigan got the plans from somebody. It's chambered for the same rounds as a VKS. Made some changes to it. It's not standard issue."

The blow a head clean off gun wasn't standard issue. Which was a little funny in an organization that primarily dealt with infected and dangerous bioweapons on the regular.

"-but we can make another one. I just don't want to. I had another revolver sort of like this about what, twenty something years ago? Anyways the recoil was so nasty it was a pain in the ass to use. This one reminds me a little of that, but the recoil's not so bad."

If that was possible to envision.

Four Headcanons

Ada's slowly been trying to build up Helena's confidence and comfort around self-expression, and this leads to both hilarious shenanigans and unexpected heart-to-hearts about why Helena's self-image was damaged long before she lost Deborah.

Ada contracts with the DSO independently under the callsign "Rook", and has done a few operations on behalf of Hunnigan. On one of these missions, she dressed in drag and schooled Helena on being a femme fatale for fun. Whether or not it was fun for Helena, Ada had fun AND they got what they needed out of it, so that was a win in her books.

She noticed how badly talking to the last remaining piece of Simmons in the basement facility affected Helena. Ada herself wasn't particularly affected besides feeling drained, but didn't have the time after to dwell on it with Balfour making moves.

starter for @harperhydra

SHE'S  SEEN  EXPLOSIONS  BEFORE.  Of  course  she  had,  she  worked  for  the  FBI  and  had  been  trained  just  like  any  other.  But  this  one  still  takes  her  by  surprise,  especially  when  everyone  else  seems  just  as  surprised.  If  none  of  them  had  planned  it  -  who  had?  It  was  a  question  that  didn't  take  long  to  answer  as  she  was  swooped  up  in  an  unfamiliar  pair  of  arms. 

Something  that  seemed  to  be  happening  far  too  often  these  last  24  hours.

A  small  yelp  left  her  lips  as  another  explosion  went  off  and  she  decided  her  best  course  of  action  for  the  moment  was  staying  as  she  was  -  god  only  knew  where  the  next  one  would  take  place  and  her  vision  wasn't  as  clear  as  she'd  like  it  to  be  through  her  panic.  Nor  could  she  have  even  heard  anything  with  the  way  her  ears  were  now  ringing.

When  she  finally  registered  being  put  down  and  the  world  stopped  spinning,  and  her  breath  stopped  trying  to  escape  her  lungs  at  full  force,  she  looked  up  at  the  face  of  her  latest  capture,  panting  a  little.

"We were told that we were creepy."

Ebajalg stares at Helena, the pupils within their irises dilating.

"There's very little we can do to mitigate it," they continue, "If we're discovered imitating, it's creepy. Acting naturally is creepy too. The shell seems to cause discomfort, but initial impressions without the shell provoke fear and hostility."

Their chest buzzes.

 “Burn myself…?”, Luis echoed, his eyebrows knit together, as he mustered the agent once more. The gash on her arm… it changed. As if there was an infection happening. That was his first thought. But upon closer inspection… her own body?

That would explain the Biohazard quarantine.

His grey eyes shot up to her again. There was curiosity in them – but also a deep empathy. So she was one of these special cases. The ones gathered by the BSAA who had survived… something. Be it an outbreak, a catastrophic event, anything that shattered their former life and gave them a new one.

Like Leon, really. Though Luis could only wish he had powers like this.

“That is fascinating.”, he admitted with a smile, sitting down on the cot across from her.