#mophead x reader

MOPHEAD

Double checks if you're okay with everything. Hugs, kisses, touches, nicknames, etc.

"Are...Are you sure I can do this" "Is it alright if I kiss you?" "You sure you- Do you want this? You can always say no-"

^ You will have to tell them that they don't need to ask for permission every single time. They may still ask anyway.

A little bit braver on the battlefield now that they have something to fight for.

Enjoys practicing shooting and hand-to-hand with you immensely. You might have to convince them to be more aggressive during said hand-to-hand though.

Not a fan of PDA mostly out of embarrassment, but they won't be mad at you if you engage it.

"What're you doing!?! I mean- I don't mind it- but-"

So so so so so clingy when you're alone together. You're the only bit of warmth they have in this hellhole, and the last thing they want is for you to be snuffed out.

Stays by your side when you're wounded in battle, and will give you their gas mask without a second thought.

"Please, I can't- You NEED to stay together. Please."

Their confidence does go up and their anxiety goes down thanks to you. Who knew one needed kindness to grow?

Says "I love you" as much as they can. They don't know when it's the last time.

"I love you so much, you know that?" "God, I love you." "I love you!"

Looks at you and anything you show them with such fascination. #1 active listener!

Shares everything with you. Rations, cigarettes, water, bullets, everything.

"Do you want this?" "Here, I don't need it." "Can you hold onto this for me?"

Kisses you like you'll shift away from them if they press any harder. They know you're not fragile, but they don't trust themself to not break you anyway.

Prefers cheek/temple kisses.

Lets you brush/braid their hair. They'll do the same to you if you have hair.

Asks you all the questions nobody else will answer.

"Where are we going?" "Do you know anybody on this list?" "We'll be okay, right?" "Are we ever going to get out of here?"

Mophead may have lost their memory, but at least they can live in yours

MUNROE

So so so SO in denial when he feels those butterflies in his chest. He's already lost Eriche, he can't lose you either.

Sticks to your side like glue. Wherever you go, he goes.

If you get hurt, he will quite literally seize up in shock and fear. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be different this time.

Carves your name into his skin, just in case the Machine doesn't spare him.

Constantly looking for excuses to interact with you.

"(Insert name) knows how to work these, let me ask them." "You wanna play cards with me? No betting or anything, Don't worry-" "Do you want to practice shooting with me?" "Can I join you?" "Mind if I sit here?"

Doesn't outwardly say "I love you" that much, but the way he'll hold you after a nightmare or a long day is very telling. It's like you'll slip through his fingers if he doesn't hold you tightly, securely enough.

Kisses you quickly but with a starving want. You're going to be gone.

Prefers kissing your shoulder, hand, or wrist.

Would be so grateful if you helped brush his hair/help with upkeep. He was considering cutting it with how messy it was getting.

He'd never hurt you on purpose, though. Will get extremely upset if he grazes you with a weapon by accident.

"Ah, shit- I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I swear-"

Munroe has lost so much because of this godforsaken war. He hopes you won't be lost too.

WARWICK

Panics.

This is so unprofessional of him, whether you're a higher up, lower rank, or the same as him. He can't do this.

Makes you a good example to the others. You're his shining star, the perfect solider (to him, at least.)

"Excellent work out there, (Insert name)." "I'd recommend asking (Insert name), they'd know what to do."

Will not-so-subtlely ask you on "dates"

He's a romantic at heart when it calls. Whether it be sharing some coffee, simply talking, or playing a game of dice or cards, quality time with you may not be a forever. He treasures it the best he can.

"Why don't you join me this afternoon? If I remember, you didn't finish that story from last time."

So. WARM. His hugs are perfect for colder nights in the base.

Randomly gives you his hat or coat.

Scary dog privileges. Somebody scum a ration off of you? It's back thanks to him. Somebody being mean to you? They're shrinking away in cowardice.

Will light your cigarettes for you with his own if you smoke.

If you don't smoke, he'll make sure to do it away from you.

It's very hard to kiss him thanks to the gas mask being melded into his face, so he prefers nuzzling into you or giving you little licks.

Prefers "kissing" you on the chin/jaw, hand, neck, cheek, anywhere really.

Kiss the side of his face or his "snout" please, it would make him MELT.

Brick wall of a man. Lay on top of him, he's the perfect mattress.

Manhandler. Will pick you up if he thinks you're being annoying.

Will get so so bashful if you call him handsome or compliment him in any way.

"...ahem- Thank you...." "You really think I'm....goodness-"

Warwick has lost a lot thanks to the war. You're the reminder that he's still human.

CARRIE

Long game with this mf.

Such a tease. Poking you, calling you nicknames, he grabs you by the back of the neck to watch you squirm. You need an iron will to deal with him.

If you're not comfortable with any teasing though, he'll immediately stop. He's not a monster, even if he looks like one.

In so much denial. Romance is unnecessary, it's going to get him killed. Oh, but you. You're ruining him.

Finds any excuse to talk to you, be with you, he's an absolute dog.

"Fancy seeing you here, you following me or something?" "I'm going with you too, you're going to get yourself killed out there."

Slips you extra things. Trinkets, cigs, food.

"Don't mention it. You're hardly resourceful."

Scary dog privileges number 2. Instead of intimidating other soldiers into leaving you alone, he just picks fights. He's bitten so many people for you.

Randomly just. Flops down next to you. He may not even say anything, he just sits there.

If you're wounded on the field, it's hell on earth. He's half calling you an idiot, half panicking.

"You dumbass! How did you get shot? The bastard was barely aiming straight! Hold still-"

Stops throwing himself into dangerous situations. You give him a reason to live.

He never says "I love you" with words. He says it with standing next to you with a hand on your shoulder, defending you when you get in trouble, listening to you.

"You're not...so bad, to be honest." (It's the closest he's ever going to get.)

Uses you for body heat, little shithead.

Kissing is a uh, challenge with those chompers. He has to be very methodical about it, so he prefers shoulder, forehead, and arm kisses.

If you're fascinated with his teeth, he's going to get bashful.

"Oh what, these? Ugly things, aren't they? Annoying as shit, too- What? You think they're....you're fucking crazy."

Hugs you in private, and they're bone crushing. He'll bury your face into your body and mumble sweet nonsense. He'll favor your scent over blood and burning flesh any day.

Playful biting. Sometimes you wonder if he secretly wants to consume you so you never have to go away.

Carrie didn't think he had anything to lose besides his rations. But he's glad that he has you to hold onto.

A/N:So so so normal about these guys! If you have any requests, please submit them!

Scenario beginning:

It began a few weeks ago when you first noticed your dog coming back sicker than usual whenever they'd run off into the wilderness. The vet in town said there wasn't anything that could be done to help, which scared you.

You didn't have much left since the war began, except your parents old house and belongings sat on the edge of the village and the wilderness. And the last thing you wanted to lose now was your dog, but it made you wonder about what your dog had been getting into out there.

You'd been warned not to wander too far into them, given the circumstances, not to mention the countless trucks you'd see drive by carrying Crown Army supplies or recruits.

To say curiosity won over when your dog came back with an odd gas mask stuck to their face was an understatement, as you checked them over, they weren't hurt or had anything nefarious happen to them, just different now.

And healthier, thankfully.

So you took the risk and kept up with your dog the next time they ran off, following as close as you could till you came to overlook the vast empty land with a military base smack right in the middle.

Surely a look wouldn't hurt, right? To get a peek inside the Crown Army's base and possibly meet a soldier who looked as strange as your dog.

Mophead

You tripped into one of the trenches by accident and landed right on top of them. It wasn't your fault they were hard to see with no barbed wire around both sides.

You yelped in pain, realizing you'd landed on a soldier and were fumbling apologies left and right as they got up, the impact having knocked their lotus mask off their face as they scrambled for their rifle, thinking you were an enemy as they pointed it at you.

You were stunned when you first saw them, even if they were pointing a rifle a few inches from your face with a shaky hand, this was what the soldiers looked like?

They looked far too beautiful to be soldier. All pale, long hair and big, wide eyes, you'd normally see someone like them modeling for the paper to promote war and enlistment, not being in it.

"A-are you an enemy?"

Mophead stuttered unsure of what to do in this situation being faced with a civilian, they didn't even know what any place outside of the trenches looked like thanks to their amnesia.

"Please don't be an enemy...I-I don't think you're an enemy, you don't really look the part...."

They say that before tightening the grip on their rifle, their voice takes on a harsh tone as they scowl.

"Unless that's what you want me to think. Who are you?"

It's a very confusing and mildly terrifying interaction for both of you tbh.

After confirming you are actually a civilian from the nearby town, they don't take the idea of you being out here well, even with your curious behavior.

Mophead was quite jealous of you in the beginning, not shackled down by a choice they didn't even make, watching you exert your free will and wander where you pleased, as free as a bird oddly irked them.

Even more annoying seeing you decided to come HERE of all places, so close to the fight, did you want to die?

"W-well go home, this place is off limits, wh-why would you even come here? It's not safe at all!"

Insists you stay nearby as they escort you to the entrance of the base, hoping nobody will notice as they try to shoo you off like some stray pet.

Mophead nearly jumps out of their skin when they see you climbing down the hill towards the base again, waving excitedly to catch their attention as if they hadn't pointed their rifle at your face.

You win them over quite quickly, talking about your morning like they were an old friend. It was a 180 to the way the soldiers treated them, you're a breath of fresh air compared to the harsh environment they were trapped in. Soon gaining the courage to tell you about their day and formally introduce themselves to you.

"It's nice to meet you, e-even under these weird circumstances....I'm just called Mophead, so...call me that."

Asks you about home when they get comfortable talking to you, assuring themselves you're safest here at the base, and it's not like you're bleak enough go wandering near the trenches again...they hope.

If you have any hobbies they'll try to take one up it it piques Mophead's interest, be it drawing, writing, sewing, flower pressing with what you find on your way to visit, scrapbooking, even just harmonizing with music on a little radio is worth trying at least once to them.

It helps them build their own identity and gain a new skill, and it gives them a chance to be close to you both in sharing a passion for something.

Mophead appreciates when you teach them how to braid or style their hair, keep it out of their eyes, and 'show off their pretty face' as you put it, not shying away from calling them attractive, much to their surprise.

They hadn't really thought about the appearance til you brought it up, but they take pride in the fact that you find them not only pretty but a safe person to be around.

Will nearly pass away if you bring them gifts from or any homemade food to share with them. They don't have any memories of eating good food, so no matter your cooking skills, it's all they want to eat.

Be it savory, sweet they'll take what you give them.

Enjoys talking with you in their bunk, even if it's a bit short to sit, talking about anything and everything as they press another bundle of flowers you brought them into a book along with the wrapper of the first candy they ever tried.

Document their days through the things you bring them, like a memory bank, writing some entries here and there to read to you when you come to visit again.

You give them a reason worth fighting for, not only from knowing you but in what you show them, photographs of your home and countryside, snippets of what the newspapers say, stories of your life make it all seem so beautiful and worth protecting.

They can't teach you to fight since they don't know how to do it themselves, but they'll give you their knife if you even run into trouble when traveling between your house and the base, making you promise not to travel in bad weather or if they're out on in the field, they'd feel horrible if they were the reason for getting hurt.

And if you get hurt in some way? All hell breaks loose.

If it's a scrape on your knee or landing wrong on your ankle when jumping down on your way to the base and taking a tumble in the dirt, you can ensure Mophead will personally escort you to the nurse themselves, your status as a civilian be damned.

It's one of the first times you see Mophead act genuinely scary if the nurse in the infirmary tries to brush you two off, like it isn't their job to help people? Especially civilians.

"Your job is to fix injuries, who cares if it's a civilian? A wound is a wound, now fix it! Or just give me the supplies, and I'll do it myself."

Please don't try to argue with them, it only makes them realize how different you two are. You belong to a world that makes every moment worth living and enjoying, they're stuck forever in a war to defend people like you.

To die and come back so you won't have to ever experience that kind of life.

"You're not like me! You're nothing like me, y-you should...you shouldn't have made a risk like that, especially in such harsh weather, what would have happened if you couldn't move or or-."

You only have one chance at living, and in a place like this, where anyone could hurt you with no thought for it, just how they were trained to kill the enemy scares them.

While Mophead has been sworn to slowly lose their human appearance into something they don't know yet, no doubt becoming a monster just like the rest of them. And even if they didn't look the part, they knew they could be just as cruel if they wanted to, they'd become a monster eventually, one way or another.

They try to push you away after their realization, but they find it just as hard to keep it like that. You're the only person they feel they have a connection with, someone they care about and trust.

They don't want to risk losing you being an average civilian, but they can't help but wait for the day you'll come back to visit again like a loyal pet, craving the comfort and peace you provide with just your existence and voice.

They don't realize how much you feel the same til there were reports of a bombing near your village reached them, sending Mophead into a panic. Just because you lived on the edge of it didn't mean you couldn't still be hurt or injured.

No doubt terrified, all alone in your house with nobody but your poor dog.

Mophead was halfway out the door with their gear on, about to go look for you, when they saw you running down the slope to the base with your dog in tow, sobbing as you didn't hesitate to run into their arms.

"There you are, I-I was so worried about you, I was gonna go look for you! Are you hurt anywhere? You're soaking wet, let's get you inside, it-it'll be ok (name), you were far braver than I am for running here."

They fumble, trying to check you for any injuries as they guide you inside to get you cleaned up and dry, tossing their uniform coat over your shoulders.

Mophead doesn't let you out of their sight or hold for the remainder of the night, wrapping you up in spare blankets along with some hand-me-down undershirt, giving up their cot for you all while holding your hand through it to give you some solace.

They aren't good at comforting, but feeling you shudder when another bomb impact echoes overhead had them rubbing circles into your back tenderly.

"It's ok, I'm a bit scared too, but it'll stop eventually, your safe here...I promise you're safe here (name)."

They'll try to go as far as they can from the base when you go home the next morning, already missing the warmth of your hand.

Gains the courage to give a quick parting hug whenever you have to go further than they can follow, a small good luck charm along with their knife in your pocket, as they whisper a:

"Be safe out there. I think I'll go mad without you." Before letting go reluctantly.

Hoping as they do every time you leave, you'll come back as you wave goodbye with a bright smile that lights up their chest with an unfamiliar feeling before disappearing into the morning mist.

You're like the feeling of warm sunshine through a window, you give them hope for the future that they'll make it out, and one day they can leave the base and see your home in person and be able to see the flowers you bring them actually blooming from the earth.

But until then, they'll wait for the next time you come to visit and remind them of what they're fighting for.

Munroe

Assumes you're a kid, or at least younger than him cause no adult in their right mind would willingly waltz into an army base simply out of curiosity. It's been years since he's been home, and he's never seen the village nearby, so how would he know what your life is like?

Keeps you at an arm's length, or better worded, 'tried', but simultaneously makes a point to keep you out of trouble, figuring out you weren't scared of the more contaminated soldiers, then he'd give up on the idea of trying to ward you off.

Only to immediately break that attitude when you started getting picked on, dragging you away from the more insidious soldiers yelling some backhanded comment about picking on someone with an actual fight in them.

After herding you to a more secluded hallway, Munroe takes a shot at trying to convince you to go home, looming over you with those pale eyes of his.

"Hey, this is no place for a kid, you should be at home right now. Your parents are no doubt worried sick about you being out here alone."

Tries to put it lightly, but he's anxious about the thought of you wandering deeper into the base to discover the gore or worse, coming even close to the machine.

Doesn't know how to respond when you say your parents aren't around. No matter how old you are, no person should live in a time of turmoil without their loved ones.

At least the two of you have that in common.

"Uuhhh well....fuck me that was rude of me to say, sorry for you're loss."

Figures you should stick with them if you're gonna make this a habit, becoming his strange shadow that happens to talk more than he does, so it's more the other way around, he's just stopping you from seeing things you shouldn't.

"Let's...go back to the mess hall, must be starving from trudging through all that mud to see me huh?"

If he's not out in the field or doing chores, you trail after him or stay in the bunks where you two play dice and cards while getting to know each other. He tries to go easy on you if your poker face is nonexistent.

"You're not foolin' me with that smile mate. Do yourself a favor and try covering that smile with your cards, maybe then you'll have a chance at winnin' my cigs."

He chuckles at your attempts to stay composed.

It's a nice change, seeing someone with actual life in their eyes, not involved but still choosing to come back to see him makes the trenches and gas not hurt as much, he's gotta stay alive long enough to see you again.

Yet the looming threat of death can never truly leave his shoulders when telling you about what happened to Eriche if you'll listen, biting back the words on how he's gotta keep you safe now too.

Can and WILL trauma dump on you, but encourages you to do the same to him if you feel like it. War weighs heavily on all those involved, even the people who have no part in it.

It's not the best method, but it's better than trying to keep them to yourself, and you two hold sympathy for the others problems and know the best comfort is just being able to listen & understand.

Telling him how you live alone pretty far from the village, Munroe comes to the conclusion your probably lonely besides being with your dog in your deceased parents home, hence why you wandered so far and found the base in the first place which just makes him sad.

It's hard enough to survive, let alone stay sane but at least he's got his squadmates and is starting to connect with Mophead despite what happened.

But you don't have any of that, just trying to live how you can at a time where the next person you connect with will be bombed to hell never to be saved if they weren't enlisted.

Becomes the biggest stray dog when you bring him food, not even having to bet anything for it, the idea you want to share with him because you enjoy being around him nearly has him in tears between bites.

"You're too good for me you know that? It's been far too long since I've had a meal with actual flavor in it."

Munroe doesn't mean to do it, but whenever you come to him with a problem you're facing back at the village, he's unintentionally encouraging you to fix it with illegal action. Not as extreme as flat-out murder or arson, but still something that would get you in a heap of trouble if you did it.

Blame it on him being in the war or how he himself handles problems, he's just out of his depth when it comes to normal problem-solving, with all the violence he's seen.

He forgot laws exist but can you blame him?

"And if they don't back off, I'd aim for the liver personally, make 'em drop to a knee if you can, would be a good advantage."

"Munroe, I can't beat up the elderly just cause they scolded the way I cleaned up their garden....I don't even know how to fight."

"Oh uh...right, I can teach you how to fight if you need?"

Routinely every second visit or so he reserves to teach you how to fight if he's not busy, it ensures him your safe and can beat someone's ass if he's not there on or off base to fight it for you.

Though he will absolutely be willing to see you deck a soldier over a bet after one got cocky and said a civilian can't take down a soldier, grinning like a moron watching you use your moves.

"Good job (name)! Never do that again, but I'm proud of ya."

He congratulates, patting your back staying true to his word and not letting you get into anymore fights even if he was proud.

If you get hurt, he'll patch you up himself, he knows and wants to keep you as preserved as he can. He's not sure he'd survive if he learned you left him like Eriche, he's gotta own up in terms of keeping even the tiniest of cuts bandaged for your sake.

On the days the world gets scary for you, a bomb dropping too close to your house or remnants of gas blowing through your town rattle you, Munroe finds you crying in his bunk, clinging to his blanket, terrified for your life but too scared to be alone.

He wants to say how dangerous it was for you to do that but can't get the words out when your eyes are so full of tears, looking to him for safety. He has no choice but to wrap you up in his arms, resting his head next to yours gently.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, it's alright, it's ok your here, you're safe, it's ok kid. It's ok, nothing's gonna happen, it's just to scare you."

He shushes softly, rocking you back and forth while he holds you through each thunderous crash that makes it through the muffled walls of the base.

Everything was awful, and nothing could be done but deal the same sort of violence back on the enemy.

Meeting you makes Munroe oddly relieved for the the Machines existence, there won't be a need for more soldiers with it's ability to drag their sorry lives back into their mangled bodies.

He needs to stay alive and out of deaths grasp so he can see you and keep you safe and sound, to do a better job than he did with protecting Eriche.

Carrie

Oh boy, he's gonna try and traumatize you into leaving if he has to.

When he first noticed you around, he thought he was hallucinating, like that weird dog with a lotus mask on its face he'd sometimes see out of the corner of his single eye.

He's not happy when he finds you're not a weird hallucination, grabbing you by the arm and digging his claws in mildly to prevent you from running away as he interrogates you harshly.

"Well, look what got into what it shouldn't, you lost or just plain stupid? By the looks of ya I'd say the latter. Get out of here or else something far worse than me is gonna get ya."

Doesn't feel the greatest watching you scurry away in terror at the sight of him. He was already tired of the nervous looks others gave him, but it was needed.

He didn't take it well seeing you roaming around two days later.

Will threaten you endlessly like he did with Mophead only somehow scarier when he sees you around. Trying to use his scary looks to his advantage and all the horrible shit he'd done to end up looking like this.

This place is meant for soldiers who can't die and have sworn their lives away for a war, not some fragile, one life having civilian.

Let alone one who frolics around the base as they owned it (steering clear of Lieutenant Kelly of course he learned)

"Whaddya think you're doing back here, pipsqueak? Ya deaf as well as stupid, or is peaceful life getting boring for ya? Well guess what, at least you have it, so do your damn self a favor and go run home to your little village unless ya wanna die with no chance of coming back."

Of course, you didn't leave him alone, even with his multiple attempts to scare you off, even if he was a little scary, he was too interesting a person to leave alone, especially with those, as you put it, 'cool' teeth.

Which you asked about A LOT, much to his added annoyance and confusion with you.

He was supposed to be scaring you so you'd run on home to your cozy little village and never come back, not being the object of your attention that keeps you coming back to pester him if he can't get away from you with chores, wet work, and training.

"Do they hurt?"

"At the moment, no, my ears on the other hand are being grated by your yapping." He snaps his jaw with a glare, waiting for you to back off.

"...so did you always have such cool teeth?"

Fucking hell, someone shoot him and put him out of this misery.

"Nah, didn't always look this good, but gettin these ones now...that's a different story."

"What kind of story?"

"A story that's non of ya business so scram!"

You begin to grow on him over the course of your continuous visits, asking him to tell any stories about what he's experienced and seen (which he totally won't exaggerate because he enjoys the look of awe in your eyes) throwing in a few of the various ways he's died just to make you think twice about joining him in this hellhole.

He'd rather be the corpse that clogs the Machines pipes than be the reason you ever sign up for the Crown Army.

Your relationship only grows when you two start betting with things you bring from home in exchange for him teaching you how to play dice and cards.

He claims your bond is merely translational with your smuggled in contraband, but you both know between you as you've seen the way he keeps an eye out when your in the process of sneaking back home, pulling you back if crossing a certain soldier who'd rat you out before letting go.

He's cheating if you happen to have something from home he can't get in the bunker, candies you enjoyed when you were little, a flask of alcohol, or any little shiny trinkets like jewelry or a brooch, has him scrambling to win at any means necessary just to have a small slice of normalcy.

At some point after you beat his ass in a third round of cards, he finally caves in and teaches you how to shoot, it's the least he can teach you, and it's a helpful skill if anyone back in your home gives you trouble.

And partially so he'll know you've at least got a fighting chance if he's not there to fight off any threat or conman you could run into.

While not practicing with any ammo (of course) since he can't take you out into the field, he'll have your back to his chest, hands guiding you to practice holding the rifle and aiming.

"Then ya line it up like this ya see? Keep your grip nice n tight or it'll go slipping. Now keep your eyes on the target, then ya pull the trigger n shoot it down."

Moments like that, he forgets about his fate and yours, your his escape to peace from everything, not quite a soldier like him, but close enough in both being victims of this war, trying to make the most of it.

Trying to find what little rays of peace could be found in the aftermath of desecrated bodies and war-torn homes.

One night you come running into the base to hide from the sound of the bombs or an attack near your village, your in shambles when you crash into in the hall upon finding him.

Sobbing and soaking wet from running through the mud and rain as you hug him far too tightly, as before you can explain what happened, you duck your head to his chest in panic at another bomb going off miles from the base yet you still whimper in fear.

He's stuck in place, blinded by emotion he'd thought he left behind when he became a contam, but the sight of your terror and arms tightening around him has the soldier squeezing you back tightly.

He's filled with rage at the fact that you risked your safety running here to find him and has a need to keep you safe from the distress the enemy caused you.

Barks at you to stay in his bunk and begins dragging you there, he can't stand seeing you cry about something neither of you can control, but at least he can offer refuge and keep you in the safest place he knows.

"Hide under the bed if it'll make ya feel better, but you ain't leavin' this room til this blows over ya hear?"

He scolds, tossing you a ratty towel to dry yourself off from the rain, rubbing your arms to try and keep you warm before giving up and wrapping a full arm around you to keep you at his side.

"It's fine, I've got ya it's just fine, shush now it's all fine."

He tries to comfort you through your fear, seeing you so scared and vulnerable, reminds him of your fragile mortality and how real your fear was of death.

He couldn't brush it off like with new recruits who hadn't had the misfortune of dying yet, you were fragile in the most human way possible.

The nurses would probably help you if harm ever came to you, but if it was more dire...the thought of putting you into the Machine and never giving you back brought out a different kind of fear in him.

Maybe it would use parts of you to replace the lost limbs of soldiers, see you as just a bunch of spare parts, to chew into pieces for the benefit of others who enlisted in this torture.

With you shivering from either the cold or still crying as another thump of a bomb echoes overhead, yet far away, he wishes someone had done this for him back when he was new to the violence and war, as selfish as it was of him to want that now while you sobbed into his arms til you fell asleep from exhaustion.

You had no part in this, but war couldn't care less about what it did to people, innocent or involved. Even if you only lived nearby, it wasn't your fault you didn't have the money or resources to leave your home, you were stuck.

Just like him.

Caught in the crossfire between them and the enemy side, and yet still there was nothing to do but hold you through the devastation til it ended and you felt safe enough to go home.

Or until he let go of you, haunted by the idea the enemy would drop one more bomb if you stepped outside the base.

He'll keep you safe, with all he's got, you won't die on him, not if he can do anything about it.

Warwick

This man's stress levels go through the roof upon seeing you in the base, wandering around like your dog, only far more obvious to passing soldiers, but he's hesitant to approach you.

Warwick fears you'd scream and run away like he'd imagine his family would if they ever saw him again, though this is quickly proven wrong when he catches your gaze, only to be met by curiosity and wonder.

Finally giving him a chance to question why your here in the first place, and get a sense for why in your right mind you'd come here in the first place.

"Oi, you lost? Don't remember seein someone like you around, what's got you snoopin round a Crown Army base?"

You were intimidated more so by his height and fascinated by his features if anything so it took you a while to answer him but he took no offense.

And holding back a comment on how they wore the same mask as your dog, you figured I'd be rude to compare the two, as you notified him about your dog.

Even though he didn't help your dog or give the pup the lotus mask, it put him as ease knowing one of the soldier here still had theirs morals and helping out those in need.

He can forget kindness still exists even in harsh times like this, and from war-torn soldiers it's quite the trait to nurture as he took you in, somewhat scratched up from running through the woods, no doubt and more plain everyday clothes.

"I can fix up those scrapes, it's the least ya deserve after coming all this way huh?"

He offers to hold out his glove for you to take.

The process is a bit awkward, sitting in a random chair looking around at what few pieces of paper line the walls as the boar faced Corporal cleans up your wounds, but it's a welcome one when he bandages them up with a kind smile somehow recognizable despite his changed appearance.

"M' names Warwick, just a simple corporal tryin' his best, what's yours luv?"

Soon, you become a part of his everyday schedule, even preparing a cup of tea or coffee for you when you finally get down there, no doubt tired from the walk alone.

Never once failing to make him smile as your eyes light up upon seeing him, your dog at your heels barking happily.

Your smile always makes him feel as close to human as he can these days, looking at him like he's just another person.

"There ya are, start to wonder if you'd gotten bored of me." He smirks at your attempt to apologize for being late, as you were bringing something from home to show him.

He's most pleased when you bring him books from home, offering to read to him after learning his goggles make reading a pain for him to do with smaller texts.

This leads to him reserving the afternoon or evening if he doesn't have work to do to make some tea or beverage.

Turning into a more music-oriented radio station to block out any noise before sitting down either at the mess hall or in his room to read together.

"Another one today? You spoil me rotten you do, fraid you'll be runnin out of books on your shelves if ya keep bringing em to me."

He scolds with a smile as he puts on the kettle.

Enjoys your commentary when reading, gives him a peek into that interesting head of yours that even he still fails to understand some days, along with what genres you do enjoy.

Begins reserving a few things for you when you come to visit, obviously not a full room but an extra blanket here and there, along with a space to keep the things you sometimes leave behind.

Struggles to tell what you meant to leave for him or if you just forgot to take it with you, either way, you've got your own little corner of home whenever you visit.

Arguing it's so your things don't get mixed in with what little he owns himself while trying to keep his composure at you noticing the care he holds for you.

Gifts you one of the lotus masks seeing it's probably much better than any civilian bought gas mask, teaching you how to use and care for it and not to wear it for too long, and most of all signs to look for to indicate gas pollution and certain attacks.

Makes an effort not to treat you like a fellow soldier under his command, despite his ways of training you for what to look out for, staying on a fine line between keeping you prepared for the worst and keeping you safe.

Makes you promise to run and not fight if you ever see the signs of a fight or bomb, that's for the soliders who can be carried back to the Machine and resurrected if they die, not you.

He won't lose another good thing just because he was careless about wording. The goal is self-preservation of yourself and others, he can handle the rest.

After a particularly long reading session, Carrie heard word of a bomb attack near your village, shaking him to his core on how to break it to you.

How you couldn't go home or if you'd even have a home to go to in the morning, he was worried over how you'd take the news, not wanting to risk you trying to leave the safest place you could be, but having to sit through a whole night scared for tomorrow sounded awful.

"Hey...bear with me on this but uh, stay here tonight, please (name). I don't mean to hold you here but...it's not safe right now. You'll be better off here, I promise you that."

He feels horrible at every flinch of your body whenever the thunderous sound echoes above, making him hold you tighter, wracking his brain for any way to distract you from everything.

He ends up softly humming a song his mum taught him, the rumble of his voice being felt through your back as he rubbed your arm gently as he sang.

Your presence alone reminds him of home, even if your not from the same place as his family, you make him have hope for the future that even if he can't see his family, he can always see you in your little visits.

Kelly

Hearing rumors about some unregistered civilian roaming about, she brushes it off as mere stories of soldiers trying to stay entertained. They'd say what they could to get a rise out of her these days.

Or perhaps it was just a soldier's odd dream of their life before the war bleeding into their time stuck out here.

She isn't pleased to be proven wrong when she begins to see glimpses of a figure disappearing around corners or doors, not dressed in proper uniform.

Once she gets her hands on you she is pissed. How someone like you snuck into the base with a dog in tow no less isn't a good look for her.

She refused to call you by your name after you introduced yourself, simply dubbing you 'The Civilian.'

This quickly backfires as suddenly your called 'Kelly's Civilian' by the other soldiers, but it at least stops any pricks from trying to scam you out of your belongings.

Unless they wish to face the Lieutenant's wrath.

Sparking an odd relationship of her trying to keep you out and away from her & the other soldiers, while you weasel your way back into the base somehow, much to her disdain once you either find her or she finds you wandering about again.

"So...your back, still not enlisted, I see."

She growls down at you, earning only a sheepish smile in return while answering no.

She tries to keep an unchanged attitude with you, hoping you'll give up your curiosity and go home to your little village but every few days, when she thinks she's finally got you beat...there you are again.

You were especially interested in her much to her dismay, seeing you hadn't met many people like her let alone someone so strong and amazing.

Admiring her strength and looks is a confusing topic she tries not to dwell on, especially when bringing up her strength and height.

It's an odd feeling, but not an unwelcome one seeing your STILL not scared of her, and very little power dynamic considering you weren't one of her soldiers.

Didn't think someone would find her attractive since gaining so much muscle and size from the Machine, let alone see her as someone safe with a face like hers.

But clearly your not a normal person considering you willingly walk up to her and follow her around each day that's not occupied by missions or wet work.

Seeing the way you stick to her side when she's not in the field, following her around like a lost puppy, has something in her usual annoyed attitude grow soft.

Your simple curiosity had gotten you this far and all the way through you didn't judge her for what differences there were between you.

Making the hard boiled lieutenant realize you were quite an enigma yourself, thanks to her efforts trying to shut you out.

"What makes you keep coming back here? Hometown not as exhilarating as the threats of war?"

She asks one day out of the blue as she sits down in her personal room, which you hadn't noticed before.

Efforts to be kind yet still a bit nosy grow to amuse her, speculating if your some secret reporter trying to find some information through her about the Crown Army and its soldiers.

But seeing how you rarely asked about the war itself and more about her had that idea quickly brushed away.

Not to mention the fact that she'd see you stumble through the wilderness, nearly tripping on your muddy boots to reach the base had any thoughts of you being an enemy spy quickly evaporate.

Your honesty is much more akin to a little jester for her, if that defines your connection any more odd than it was before.

Please get her some good food, she deserves it after all the stress she goes through as a lieutenant, even if she deems your offerings 'contraband', you've always had the tin containers returned freshly clean and she lets a few compliments on your cooking slip if your not in public.

She has a reputation to uphold after all. Even if it’s hard to deny you make her smile.

But it's clear to see she has a soft spot for you, though only seems to show her care when you two are alone which you understand.

You remind her of simpler times before she was changed or was a lieutenant, the days before everything went to shit and she signed up to the Crown Army to serve their nation.

Refuses any thought crossing your mind about joining her, she'd much rather laugh at one of your jokes in public and break her tough facade than let you get dragged into this.

"You don't belong here, remember that, you will never belong here in our ranks, and that is a blessing you don't forfeit. Remember your place."

She growls if you ever mention it around her, not on her watch, you won't be enlisting in anything if she can help it.

From that, she refused to teach you how to shoot or fight.

How to camouflage and use the terrain to your advantage? Absolutely.

From climbing trees or hiding in plain sight, Kelly may not have the size to hide, but with the right tactics and methods you use, you'll always be safe from the enemy.

That's at least what she believed, til word is heard of an attack near your village, which was heard through the ranks, sending her blood to boil at the thought.

To this day, she still scolds herself for how emotional she acted in that moment, sending troops to handle the attack but keeping out of the village's main points to not cause any panic among the people living there.

Seeing the attack was far closer to your house then anticipated, Kelly looked around for you inside the old, rickety house full of various trinkets and books.

Surrounded by a normal life, trapped in the clutches of merciless war, Kelly looked around all the hiding spots til she found a cellar door beneath a rug.

"It's just me, it's me. There's no need to be afraid (name)."

They said through the wood, startling you wouldn't help your terrified state as the door opens.

They get you wrapped up in a blanket, noting the telltale signs of shock as they do what they can to ensure your safe and alive.

"It's alright now, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't to ensure your safety..."

They admit while rubbing your cheek tenderly in attempt to soothe you in the chaotic moment. Not much needs to be said in that quiet moment, just a mutual understanding and differences in one another, but cared for all the same.

They wait as long as they can before they have to leave to head back to help the rest of the troop.

Knowing that like clockwork, you'll come running back to bother her once more.

Mophead

Their love language: Quality Time/Physical Touch

They'll follow you everywhere like a ghost, arranging schedules to be at your side, finding some way to slink into your schedule.

Giving them a sense of stability and direction when taking their questions seriously about how everything works or operates.

Being around you let's them see every part of you, not as a means to uncover a facade or some secret act your putting, just to experience you in everything.

Spending time together assures them they aren't alone in this, and opens up their eyes to the harshness other soldiers face.

Intrigued by everything you do off the battlefield to pass time, taking a try at it themselves so they can be apart of your schedule even more.

They start to see their partner as less of a guide and more of a partner the more they learn about them, feeling inclined to walk by your side then a step behind.

This morphs into physical touch quickly once comfortable, even being shoulder to shoulder is good enough for them, a soft touch in all this harshness.

In the privacy of your bunks, they're leaning half their body against yours, resting their head on your shoulder while you do something.

Asking you to read to then while they lay against your chest or tell them about your day if they couldn't be with you for most of it.

Likes receiving: Acts of Service

Half the time they don't know what they're doing outside the battlefield, nervously fidgeting with chores looking for help.

Wetwork, gun maintenance, training, it's all bearing down on them with the knowledge of their fate it's embarrassing & dreadful they can't operate.

When you step out of your way to do for them, it feels like they can breath for once without the added struggles of what should be basic tasks.

Mophead asks you to teach them how to do it so they know how to do it themselves

Feeling a little guilty about you looking out for them, but your help is immensely needed to avoid getting shoved around or fall behind.

It puts a warm feeling in their chest when you do it anyways, folding their uniform and maintaining their lotus mask.

On the battlefield when you catch them from nearly running into the line of fire, Mophead can't thank you enough for keeping them alive.

Hair maintenance is a well loved ritual of theirs, feeling your hands untangle each knot and brush it smoothe is their preferred way to unwind after a harsh mission.

Munroe

Their love language: Acts of Service

Wow nobody's surprised.

I've already written them as taking up certain talents simply for the purpose of preserving someone he cares about.

The act of gaining these skills are unseen, making it a surprise whenever he suddenly knows how to perform CPR in the middle of battle, or how to keep your body from falling apart from injuries reciting in his head what the nurses taught him.

It's all for your benefit alone.

He tries to keep it hidden, but he's horrible at sneaking around so expect your insistence he doesn't have to help politely declined as he takes more time than usual cleaning both his and your rifles.

You won't have to worry about going to the nurse's if you get hurt on the battlefield, taking your pain into account as well as making sure you follow his instructions to let it heal properly.

Munroe's love language is rooted in his fear of loss and need for control, feeling he wasn't strong or brave enough to stop Eriche from dying.

If he can keep you alive and breathing, he'll get to have you for longer.

Likes receiving: Gift Giving

Any little trinkets or thing you give him feelsl Ike a piece of you no matter the size or thing.

He's keeping it safe just for you, adding it to a small box under his bunk for safekeeping.

Loves photographs most, even ones of you before meeting are well taken care of.

Parts of you count if you'll let him have it, maybe the chip of a tooth, tip of a finger that got replaced.

It's disturbing but then again it's not like your using that anymore after being rezzed.

It's an art of immortalizing memories in little everyday things, even if they're in a war, he can still find things to enjoy and cherish.

Carrie

Their love language: Gift Giving

He's a greedy magpie at heart, anything can be a gift if fitted properly.

It's subtle at first, or at least he tries to be.

Sharing a smoke together in a foxhole, handing you the roll of bandages to fix his injuries.

Some gifts are odd but they mean a lot, a folded playing card an empty pack of cigarettes folded flat, lost button fallen off a uniform.

He didn't own much going into the war, so his habit of hoarding stemmed from sheer boredom and grew into collecting once he organized his belongings.

Resourcefulness is a must in war, it's no surprise the same goes for how he shows appreciation for someone.

It is a great way for him to show off and boast too, laughing like a hyena as he shows off his winnings from bets or straight up stealing it.

Carrie will also steal from other soldiers who cause you trouble as a way to get back at them for being rude

This only causes more problems but it's the thought that counts and the excuse for Carrue to fight them on your behalf.

Andv what better way to enjoy the spoils with someone he can stand to be around.

Likes receiving: Gift Giving/Acts of Service

When you give back as much as he gives you, he's over the moon and back.

No blast from a bomb or bullet can replicate the force of being told you thought of him before handing him something.

What's his is your and what's yours is his becomes the entire relationship.

It's second nature to simply take what you hand him without hesitation, studying it with his one singular eye before pocketing it to add to his hoard of belongings.

Giving him a bullet you dug out of his dead body before going in the rezzer is the most romantic thing you can do for him.

Either that or make him wash up.

Carrie isn't the best at taking care of himself thanks to a level of disgust he holds with himself, so acts of physical and mental upkeep remind him of his worth.

Even if the showers are their own ring of hell, he wi abide if you withold cuddles from him.

He's a very loving freak if you read between the lines.

Warwick

Their love language is: Words of Affirmation

This man has such a fine voice and boy does he use it well when he fancies someone.

Finding any support to lean against on the Southern Front is a blessing hard to come by, constantly on edge on and off the battlefield, untrustworthy folks and conman leering for any naive soul to trick, it's hard to maintain positivity.

Warwick's words pose as a steadiness from it all, even if he's a higher up it is second nature to assure you it'll be fine as long as you stick to the plan of improvise escape if something goes wrong.

Warwicks's not above praising your achievements for you to boost self esteem, he surely knows you need it.

He's good at encouragement the most, appraising what you did right during training before pointing out what needs improvement and what to do to reach it.

It's what he wished his superiors had done for him in the past, instead of always keeping an air of coldness and obedience.

It also warms his heart like no other when you smile at his words, or at least see a certain twinkle in your eye at his affirmations.

Likes receiving: Quality time

Its hard on him being a Corporal some days, listening to higher ups, making sure everyone can at least stand the other weighs on him.

Having someone on the same wavelength by his side is more soothing than he'll admit.

He likes the company, it makes the days less dull and keeps him on his toes having someone else there regardless of what's happening or his looks.

Even if you've got more a mischievous personality, he knows you mean well rather than contributing to the exhaustion he carries.

Loves a good banter over a game of cards, trying to trick you so he can win over a good story always puts a smile on his face.

Making memories is the greatest act of love someone can do in his mind after everything he's witnessed.

No matter what happens he'll have you at his side to talk to and confide in with you being there beside him.

Mophead

It started with just a few headaches, than gradually grew to night terrors and insomnia. All common cases for the wide variety of soldiers, but most took to fixing the problems themselves with exercise, training, anything to tire themselves out.

Mophead wasn't as successful when it came to those methods.

Now almost every other night like clockwork, you'd run inventory and tending to anything in need of tidying, a knock would be heard against the wood. And the familiar white haired soldier would slink inside shy as a mouse, asking for any sleeping remedy you could provide to make them sleep.

"Please just anything will help, it's been a full day now, I can't sleep, none of the other nurses will help." They'd begged in the beginning, their eyes so dull and tired but their head wouldn't comply to rest.

At first you gave into their demands for sleeping pills, of course their body soon started to withstand it and they were back at the infirmary door.

"I can't give you more, it's not healthy, you know there are other methods to help people fall asleep right?"

"W-well yes but what- or well..how do you get the supplies? Doubt they'll just give you the materials to help one soldier."

They watched you fetch a small container of dried herbs, fetching a small cup to fill with hot water.

"True, but I can just take them and there is always improvising. It is my job to make sure you stay in peak condition," You smirk handing them the drink.

"It's chamomile and lavender, helps the nerves and aids sleep."

It aided them somewhat, you giving them a bed to rest in while you did the rest of your chores around the infirmary, coming back to see them curled up somewhat asleep.

This began an odd routine, on night where flashes of what he saw in the machine weighed heavy on their thoughts, they'd come to you, conducting experiments to later compare which ones helped them sleep the most.

Being read a book despite how childish the method sounded, it had to be boring or else they'd become to transfixed on the story to fall asleep.

Tea was a close second if they needed to wind down before attempting to sleep.

Weighted blankets made from multiple layers of cloth worked the best.

All conducted in a spare notebook you two shared, thinking of other ways along with what worked now.

Mophead just failed to mention they had found the best way to relax was your voice, not just reading to them but saying anything was a lullaby to their senses.

Soon enough, the mere mention of the infirmary had them yawning and seeing you outside their visits in the night, they'd wave or nod in acknowledgment with a softeness in their usually anxio expression.

Of course you'd realized this pavlova effect by the third week, an ironic due to the common occurrence being around someone people trust makes them more vulnerable and susceptible to rest.

Neither of you mentioned it, just continuing the occasional visits, curled up on a cot while you write down records, talking about your day to them.

Eventually you'd definitely need to get the confidence to offer physical touch as another method.

Munroe

This was the last time you would try and save his sorry ass from his own carelessness, or at least that's what you kept repeating as you unbuttoned his uniform hastily.

Another case of forgetting his Lotus mask, you could only groan at the sight of him once again limp and lifeless before doing the same thing you did everytime since meeting him.

Most of the other nurses had given up on trying to manually revive his damaged lungs, but the idea of throwing him in the machine just to fix them seemed wasteful in your opinion.

Brushing away his matted hair to feel for a pulse, the stillness of his body laid on the cot didn't phase you anymore as you moved to loom over him.

Or maybe your stubbornness proceeded you, hands pressing over the side of his chest to begin administrating the practiced pace of chest pumps counting in your head, looking for any signs of life in his calm expression.

"C'mon, come back you fucking prick."

Hissing under your breath at the compressions not helping, cupping his face gently you bit back any hesitation despite having done this countless times.

Pinch his nose closed, tilt his head upright to open airways, give two breaths, repeat chest compressions til patient wakes up or doesn't respond after 20 minutes.

It just felt strange, knowing what his lips felt like from trying to save him so often, chapped and dry whenever you began, slowly growing softer with each breath you gave.

It was unprofessional by all means but once again...the machine would be worse on him than the countless bruises you'd pressed into his chest.

"I said come back, I haven't failed you yet have I?" You panted between compressions, sweat building on your skin looking down at him.

Still unresponsive.

Perhaps you were still scared for him, the only standing force between his life and the machine. Your CPR had been successful in the past, but it was getting harder, trying to revive him manually began to take longer.

His lungs would be replaced soon enough...you could only hope it'd be soon and from battle instead of his negligence.

Lips slotted over his once agaon, fingers tilting his head to push it down his throat into his lungs, half in desperation and your stressed mind forgetting how long you'd been at this.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Munroe's eyes snapping open in panic, coughing violently before you pressed his Lotus mask to his face to help filter out anything still inside.

"Deep breaths Munroe, like we practiced, in and out." Your strained voice demanded between labored breathing, glancing to the clock to check the time.

15 minutes.

His lungs needed to be replaced soon, you couldn't keep this up.

Munroe's hand found your arm as he tried to sit up, mask slowly slipping while looking to you.

It was hard to see through the dusty goggles, but he could see your ragged state, sweat staining the front of your apron as the familiar sense of shame followed.

The moment was over in a second as he was pushed down in retaliation to his effort, you tried to unwind your tense nerves, he was alive, you did your job.

"Hyack-! How...how long was I out?"

The only problem was trying to keep him that way.

"Fifteen minutes, your lungs are getting worse due to exposure," You forced out, hands fumbled for a stethoscope, Munroe's gaze stuck to you, taking in all the strife that sat on your shoulders the subtle shake in your hands.

"You'll need a transplant eventually, you'll be better off with someone else's. Deep breathe in for me."

He didn't try to sit up again while the cool metal of the stethoscope touched his warm but bruised chest earning a wince.

"Lucky me..."

Munroe wheezed somewhat at the pain in his beaten lungs, from the chemicals or the beating you gave his chest it was hard to tell.

But he sighed in relief all the same once you were done checking him over, handing him a glass of water to wash down some pills while you berated him.

He'd take this over the machine any chance he could get, coming back to life to see you loom above him was a million times better than the cold metal slate.

Even in the brief sensations of life and death, he could still feel the lingering imprint of your lips over his.

"You are lucky, just stop testing it Munroe." You sighed sitting down finally allowing yourself to rest.

Munroe only hummed in response, hand gently laying over yours in assurance.

Carrie

It was hard to tell if Carrie was scowling or not with those jagged teeth, but nonetheless he wasn't fighting Warwick which was a good sign even as you could hear him growling and cursing under his breath followed by an overly loud yell of pain.

Every other nurse grumbled about what he was a pain to deal with, always snapping back

If he came back from battle alive that is, you didn't think so, but you were bias, you knew how to handle him as the familiar figures of Warwick and Carrie entered the infirmary.

The boarfaced soldier making sure Carrie didn't try to brush off a major injury.

"He's got a crick in his jaw, noticed it just after lunch." Warwick informed as you pulled on your gloves with an appreciative nod.

"Thank you for the rundown Coperal, I'll see what's wrong." With Warwick gone and Carrie taking his spot at the cot, you could already see something amiss.

The gap between his jaw sort of sagged oddly on the right side of his face, even if it was hard to tell.

You held back a crude joke about the injury stopping his yapping for once, now wasn't the time for that as you sat in front of him. Hand reaching for his face and the other holding a small light.

"I'm just gonna check that gap in your jaw, that's all so bear with me and open wide."

It was always a delicate dance when it came to navigating around his teeth, being mindful of the tusks as he held still for you. Fingers sliding against the wall of his mouth as you shined the light into his gaping maw.

Not taking his eyes off your face, swallowing thickly watching your deep focus on his teeth, followed by a tilt of your head to get a better angle leaning closer.

What did you think of him? You'd worked with countless soldiers, probably far more easy on the eyes than him with a lopsided jaw and bandaged skin.

He could snap his teeth down with the painful strain if he wanted.

Take a few fingers of your pretty fingers too if he bit through your gloves.

Saliva pooled as kept his composure, an odd noise gurgling at the back of his throat at your prodding.

Looking deep into the mangled jaws of something that could hurt you filled him with tension, wondering what your blood would taste like between his teeth, of if you'd even look him in the eye if he did.

You pulled away before his thoughts could go any further, a string of saliva hanging between the fingers of your gloves to his teeth, not that you seemed to mind leaning back in your seat.

"It's not a crick, your jaw is dislocated. I'll need to numb it before I fit it back into place-"

Moving to fetch a syringe, your stopped by his hand gripping your gloved wrist.

Somehow few pained words made it through his oddly lopsided jaw. The numbing would make it harder to stay still, harder to feel your fingers, easier to bite without even realizing.

"Ghet it over with, m'not walkin out with a numb jaw. Shit'll bother me for hours."

Your confused look would have been a great opportunity to say something crude if he could say it without another flash of pain.

"You know at some point you need to confront your weird habit to inflicting pain, it's gonna hurt like hell and a half," You warn to which he only tightens his grip, the glare of his single eye unwavering like an angered animal.

"I guess it will be faster if you insist, just don't expect a reward by the end of this."

He didn't say anything, only leaned forward like you instructed, your thumbs sliding to fit between his tusks and press down on his tongue.

Palms fitting to the underside of his jaw, he didn't dare move his gaze away you finally looked up to meet his gaze.

A tense silence settling around the two of you, a calm before the storm.

Trust was an odd feeling, especially for a situation like this, you trusted him to not bite, and he trusted you would fix him, his grip slipping from your arm to not risk scratching you in the aftermath.

"What's your favorite color?"

He blinked in confusion, what a stupi-

A sick crack echoed through his skull with a wave of warm pain, his jaw fitting back into place.

"AAOWWWW!!!" He screeched, turning his head away to cradle his fixed jaw.

You'd thankfully pulled your hands away before any of his teeth got you, letting go of a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Immediately fetching an ice bag for him like it was second nature, and for a second you were glad he could talk again, even if he cussed about the pain.

The Ascetic

You tsked reading the scale of your current patients weight, he was an odd one but then again they all were.

He was just a special kind of strange.

The hooded man merely tilted his head in amusement, waiting for your diagnosis as if he hadn't been here before for the same problem.

"How many times do I need to tell you? Your underweight, you need to eat, you didn't. That's why you fainted, hence why your squadmates brought you to me." You explained pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn't see it but you knew he was smiling at your frustration.

You both knew he wasn't going to change his way, no matter how many times his unconscious form was dropped him on the doorsteps infirmary for you to handle.

"How knowledgeable, but I think we both know your remedy for my predicament...nurse." He hummed with false interest for your words leaning closer, the two of you currently alone.

The warm light above only highlighted the whites of his eyes teeth and nose, inky black pupils like eclipses looking down on you unblinkingly.

That familiar shiver ran up your spine before turning away to reach for something, a small cylinder container that could fit in his pocket full of pills.

"Hush now, you can deny yourself all the desires you want or whatever it is, what you can't deny yourself is nutrients & proteins,"

You said handing it to him but not letting go just yet as you glared up at him.

"And for your own sake, drink some water at least please? You won't be able to take care of all those animals if you keep falling over."

Somehow that please and mention of the company he keeps brought him to his senses.

A soft rumble of laughter spilling from his teeth like velvet as he stood, pocketing the container.

"I can follow through with that request, thank you." He nodded before getting up to leave, you stayed and watched just in case his body gave out on him, wouldn't have been the first time you had to catch him.

Thankfully he didn't, which you were grateful for before continuing onto set his file away when your eyes caught something.

A small bread roll with a small jar of jam from the mess hall perched on your desk.

A payment for your help.

You huffed with a small smile before taking your payment to bite into before anyone noticed the exchange, you could only hope he'd have the decency to come back when he ran out of pills than pass out again.

MOPHEAD

Mophead frequents the nurse's office for many reasons in the beginning.

Check-ups after going through the Machine, injuries, all that.

You became their usual nurse while attending to them.

After a bit of getting their footing back, Mophead only really visited you for one thing.

Nightmares.

Visions of all kinds of horrible things plagued their sleep. Mountains of corpses they almost recognized, eyes on every wall that followed and laughed at them, noxious gas stealing their breath, even watching their own body fall apart as almost familiar screams rang through like a death knell.

"Please, I...I just want to have one night of normal sleep."

You're familiar with soldiers having nightmares related to the war, thankfully. You assure them you've heard worse.

You both try many things to keep the nightmares at bay.

Herbal teas, incense, a candle to keep the dark away, reading something pleasant before bed, deep breaths, etc.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

"I'm sorry, I- I don't know what's wrong with me..."

You assure them that there's nothing wrong with them. This is normal.

You become a shining beacon of hope in this place of stress and fear for them, and they're eternally grateful for it.

"Thank you, for...thank you for listening to me."

Munroe

Oh, Munroe.

His habit of neglecting to wear his gas mask usually winds up with him ending up in your office.

"You've seen what it did to Warwick... I don't, I would rather not that happen to me."

You try to assure him that the chances of the lotus mask leeching onto his face are rare, but he's not having it.

"I'm telling you, those things are parasites."

They are, but you stay tight-lipped.

You frown as you listen to his lungs, hearing disturbing crackling and squelching noises that should not be happening.

While you do understand and appreciate his sense of self-preservation, you remind him that "necessary evils" have necessary in their name for a reason.

"I know, I know, I...*sigh*"

He's incredibly grateful for your help, though.

He might even wear his lotus mask regularly! One day, at least.

Carrie

Where do I even begin?

With how much Carrie throws himself into trouble, he's a regular in your office. You may as well hang up a picture of him with a plaque that reads "PATIENT OF THE MONTH"

"S' me again, got into a fight."

You're the only one allowed to touch his teeth.

While examining them for cavities or any fractures, you discovered he has a second row of teeth that are much smaller and well-organized.

They're still very sharp, though.

Unfortunately, it's practically canon he's a dirty boy, so you're going to have to deal with infections in his wounds very frequently.

Perhaps he didn't like looking at his body? It would explain why he may not shower often enough.

You don't say anything, but you feel the insecurity he tried to bury radiating off of him when you ask him to pull back his clothes so you can inspect things.

"Do I really have to- alright, alright, fineeee."

Carrie becomes a little more vulnerable with you over time.

Not completely, but he does drop his guard a little when he enters your office.

"...Sometimes I get- *sigh* I get hurt on purpose just to see you. Did I ever tell ya that?"

Warwick

You were the nurse that took care of him when his lotus mask started fusing to his face.

It was a very scary time for Warwick, one he does not like to remember.

He does remember you, though. He remembers how helpful you were to him.

Usually just comes in for mandatory check-ups.

"It's good to see you again, (Insert name). How's everything?"

Check-ups are full of chats and catching up. He does have more responsibility as a Corporeal, and he wishes he could see you more often.

If he comes in for being sick or injured, though, he's a little quieter.

Something in him feels stupid, ashamed even.

It also reminds him of when the mask leeched onto his face, that time of panic and immeasurable amounts of pain.

"Sorry, just- not too proud of this one."

You always understand, and for that he's grateful.

"It would be nice to keep seeing you if...when this is all over."

A/N:Giggling and kicking my feet at this. Sorry I've been a bit slow with requests, I've been quite busy with other things. I'm also trying out a new formatting style that hopefully doesn't break Tumblr like hell.

Mophead

Bless them, they are a mess to handle when in a relationship yet very romantic in sentimental ways.

Your such a contrast to the harshness of everything despite being a soldier like the rest of the squad, it was hard not to fall for you.

They're the kind of person to gift you a locket with a braid of their hair inside so there’s always a part of them with you, and so they can identify you if anything happens.

Has clear signs of separation anxiety once you two are officially together, they can't really help it since your the only stable thing they have after losing everything.

Quality time fell over late night talks in each other's bunks, becoming routine if the other can't sleep due to insomnia or nightmares.

One of you silently crawling to somehow both fit on the tiny bunk before asking what's wrong in soft whispers. Soon growing bold enough to playwith their hair while listening, it always helps them sleep.

Uses the strength and bravery you show in the field as a motivation to do the same, wanting to be able to protect you so your not hauling them out of danger with no one to watch your back.

If you go down in battle, they won't let go of your body, clinging to you like a lifeline til your carried off with the rest of the dead to be resurrected.

Even then they can be found resting in your bunk if they don't have any chores to do, waiting for you to come back.

Enjoys how interested in learning about them as they are, not who they used to be, you being along for the ride of figuring themselves out puts more confidence in them then either of you realize.

Tries to mimic your assurances when your not around, especially if your hurt or dying, though it gets hard to tell who they're saying it to.

"Hey, hey hey, your alright! We're gonna be alright like you said right? I...I'm gonna be ok, were gonna get out of this."

Only trusts you to see them cry, they don't wanna admit how scared and terrified they are but having you there makes it so much easier to get through each day.

"I don't-I can't! I just can't accept it, I'm stuck here, forever because of a choice I didn't even make!"

They're so thankful for you holding them through their breakdowns and crying, assuring they're valid for feeling the way they do.

Sharing albeit not an exact experience but having second thoughts about signing up calm down the feeling of isolation.

Prompting Mophead to ask you about your thoughts and feelings about all of this, seeking comfort in your opinion.

Your their anchor to the madness of this place and all it's torment, they couldn't be more thankful to have you.

Munroe

He gets so many nightmares about you to realize how much you mean to him, even going to check your bunk just to assure your still there, alive and breathing.

Takes up first aid lessons to combat his constant nerves, trying to convince himself if he can keep you alive, he won't lose you.

Finds being away from you only makes it worse, flashes of Eriche behind his eyes urges him to go find you no matter the situation, he'll deal with the complaints later after he's seen you with his own eyes.

Becomes somewhat flustered and ashamed if you end up saving him in battle, what good is he if he can't even stay alive himself?

Starts collecting anything that remind him of you, nabbing a few photographs if he can help it.

Doesn't want to feel like he's already mourning you while your still alive, he just needs to immortalize the memories before you dissapear.

Can and WILL drag you out of a bad fight if you are the last two standing, he'll throw you over your shoulder if he has to. He's not losing you if he can help it.

A part of him screams inside watching you die, especially from an explosion as it has him scrapping through the blood and dirt for parts of you.

Even if you face fatal injuries but take a while to die, he can't bring himself to the idea of mercy killing you, even with all the pain you feel begging for it to end.

He can't kill you, not now not ever, he'd rather lose himself than do that to you.

"Don't say that...you don't ever fucking say that do you hear me!? You take it how it is, it'll pass just...just let it go, It'll be over before ya know it."

He tries to console you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he holds you so close as if it would magically fix your pain.

Keeping you both low to the ground as the fight rages above til your body gives up trying to live, filling him with some odd form of relief that at least you weren't suffering anymore.

He needs to keep you intact, looking as human as you can be or else he might lose you in a different way, mind and body warped horrifically by the war.

He can be found sitting outside the Machine room looking for you in the crowd with an expression of both anxiety and relief.

He confronts you about your request once your back in the bunks.

He knows if he doesn't he'll be hearing you voice begging for him to kill you all night.

"Don't ever ask me that again do you hear me?"

He says darkly before hugging you tightly like your gonna run off back onto that battlefield.

Pressing his ear to your neck to hear and feel your pulse, your heartbeat against him and physical skin.

He finally let's his muscles relax when you hug him back, returning the gentle kiss he'd given you to his teme, his going boneless against you as you maneuver the two of you to lay down.

To which you finally notice a few tears in his white eyes, hidden behind his hair.

"Please...don't do that to me, I can't handle losing you too."

Carrie

This dog of a man is already a hassle to deal with outside of a relationship, good luck getting him to even acknowledge he might like you more than an anchor in this hellhole.

He'll just brush it off, stating your the most tolerable person he's currently got.

Due to his depth perception, he uses it as an excuse to drag you everywhere like some service dog to keep a look out for his blind side.

Always making sure you've got every piece of equipment needed for the field, and gives him a chance to tease you if you don't.

Tossing a helmet over your head himself with a somewhat demeaning pat.

"Keep that noggin of your covered, can't have what's left behind those eyes of yours getting painted on the walls."

Makes an effort trying to be an example to you of how NOT to die though he ain't the best at it.

"Don't lose your head mate, fetching soldier's severed heads ain't my forte,"

He'd snark while you curiosly peek over the barbed wire, before he's yanking you down if you took too long for his liking.

"And I ain't about to make it my forte, so stay down!"

If you tease him back at his protective attitude he'll just reinforce his tone that your the only person he tolerates.

Even if he does die, he noticed he began to worry more about you in his last moments, if you'd survive the fight, or no matter how many times he's died you always look so worried for him.

But as usual he covers it up once he's out of the machine and goes to greet you first only to be met by a panicked hug.

"Couldn't stay away from me, could you? Least knew I was in good hands when it all went black huh. Got me back in one piece at least." He tries to downplay while patting your back.

He can't really kiss you without his teeth nicking you, but there's a certain thrill similar to a kiss in biting you.

Likes biting your shoulder or your ear feeling you squirm in his grasp while he holds you.

Is the kind of touch starved that'll take what he can get, even a punch from you when training is a win in his mind. Yes he's got masochist tendencies after dying so many times.

So yes while he does enjoy you both collapsing ontop of each after a tiring day in hell, do feel free to bite him back and mark him up so your both matching.

Mentioned in a previous post but he guards your bunk when you’re recovering from an attack, starting by just sitting at the end watching over you.

Only to scoff at your shivering and lay down beside you to keep the both of you warm.

He's possessive over what little he's got, and that includes you.

He won't admit he has a thing for you being vicious and bloodthirsty...but he definitely has a thing for watching you snap and snarl at the enemy, especially when defending him.

The way the spark from the rifle lights up your eyes has him in shambles, he doesn't know whether to be impressed or jealous of how you make him feel.

Someone help him if he sees you with blood that isn't yours stain your skin on the battlefield or better yet when changing to clean up after.

Watching you wash off the carnage & grime off like you hadn't blasted the enemy to smithereens.

"Vicious little animal aren't ya? Certainly had them runnin for the hills with that stunt of yours."

"Ya take that snarl of yours after me too? Didn't know you had it in ya."

Carrie used to think romance was for sad saps with bleeding hearts, but being around you, being able to have someone look at him without fear or see him as more than another crazy soldier has him second guessing.

Warwick

Genuinely thought he could just ignore his feelings for you given how unprofessional it would be, he was wrong.

A gentleman through and through, he's trying to play it cool but the idea you like him let alone want to be with him baffles the Corporal.

It started with asking him personally to help you train, helping you grow your confidence and later learn strategy.

He won't admit it (because everyone can see it) your his favorite soldier.

Is a romantic, but has lost his touch due to the war, he hardly believed someone would want him post contam with how it all affected him mentaly, not to mention your ranks.

If your in his squad, he takes a lot of responsibility for you, not quite a guardian angel but a few steps back from one especially if your new and still human looking.

Always having a cup of tea or coffee ready in the mornings if there isn't time for breakfast, your lotus mask already fed and watered properly if you forget.

An extra mag found in the pocket of your uniform just in case, a tools you can use yourself, he just makes sure they're in prime condition to keep that heart of yours beating.

Having been around the longest, he's gained many skills from the war and other soldiers. One being singing, mainly shanties, lullabies or stories learnt from others.

He's not one for silence, hence how you catch him cleaning his rifle with a deep rumbling melody in his throat.

"It a bother for ya?"

Warwick asked after noticing your constant pauses between cleaning.

Admitting you liked his singing has him short-circuiting, he rarely gets compliments.

"Heh...well that's good to know...I could teach ya a few if ya like?"

He'll sing for you if you ask, or even when he can tell you need a distraction from a nightmare or beginning to panic on the field.

Growing to be a comfort between you two when your get out of the machine for the first time, confiding your terrifying thoughts while he hums softly rocking you back and forth soothingly.

Your second to none when it comes to watching his back, his trust in you surprises even him. He blames it on being the one to help hone your skills, but Carrie calls bullshit.

In feeling responsible for you, if anything happens you know your in safe hands, there's a strange comfort knowing even if you won't be able to feel it cause you'll be dead.

Warwick will carry you back to base to be patched up safe and sound.

Can't kiss you but he makes up for it in holding your hand & pressing the front of his mask to it like a kiss, especially if it makes you flustered.

Doesn't realize how deep he is in love with you til another one of his skills he uses to pass the time being poetry.

Normally he'd write about what he saw how he felt, keep some semblance of himself written in paper.

But he knew he was screwed when it started including you in it.

Guess he couldn't dance around you and his subtle flirting forever after all (much to the relief to the rest of the squad)

Mophead

It started off small with you, not wanting to hurt them too harshly when your make outs grew more passionate, crammed together in their small bunk wanting to be as close as possible.

Listing for more of them once your lips begin to wander from theirs to cherish what they allowed you to have.

Even with their hand on the back of your neck the desire and need to feel their unblemished skin in your molars grew restless with your gentle kisses.

They could tell you wanted more, just teasing the edge of giving in, holding steadfast to avoid being denied your want.

"I'm not fragile, you know."

Mophead scolded once you'd reached their collarbone, dull silver eyes in a slight glare, daring you to give in.

Sending a spark of hot lighting throughout your spine to your core, yet still hesitant.

“Or do I need to show you that?”

Words aren’t needed after you answer with a nod, hoping they’d just fuck the shame out of you enough to not feel this hesitation.

Finishing your second round going into your third, the smell of sweat and sex nearly drowning you along with your legs going numb, clinging to anything to ground yourself even with the way they held you down.

And their shoulder was oh so conveniently in front of you, coated in sweat with their hair pushed to the side, what din light there was painting each curve and dip of their skin.

The yelp they let out following the animalistic action nearly had the entire bunk awake.

It hurt, yet that didn’t register over the warmth of your jaws contributing to the sick heat you two had built up for the past hour.

Kindling to a blazing inferno, you didn’t stop your new indulgence, moving up their shoulder to bite at their bicep.

Your greed bringing them closer to the edge than anticipated, feeling a cry travel from their lungs to their throat.

They understood your trepidation in that moment for the inevitable cataclysm, only they help no mercy in muffling their voice into the skin of your throat.

They didn't think of it til the next morning, taking in the rings of deep purple & wine red cast across their shoulders, barely veiled by their hair.

Looking over at you to see the one imprint of their teeth curving over your shoulder.

The look of your lips somewhat swollen from the countless bites you've given them, the sting it brings has them wanting more.

Then they notice how much you enjoy it as well as being bitten back, often finding more than enough places to leave your bites and hickeys for them to find later on in the day.

Begins holding it over you like a dog with a treat, once they realize how much you enjoy it,

If you behave well you can bite them, if not they keep your head to the bed while they have their way with you.

Mocking your inability to do as you please with far too soft kisses down your neck and back, only to pull back whenever you arched into their touch for more.

Laughing maliciously while letting their canines trace back their steps, holding you tighter to ensure you can't get what you want.

"You don't get what you don't deserve, take what I give you, and maybe I'll give you a bite."

They hiss into your ear, plowing their hips deeper into you before repeating the torture.

Eventually giving you the same capelet of bruises and bites to ogle in the morning along with the imrpint of their hands where they held your hips.

Munroe

I'm saying this now, because I said it last time with the first nsfw hcs, this man has a fetish for nearly dying mid sex.

The pain is grounding, clashing with the amount of times he's died and come back, it wasn't a surprise to find your passion for biting

You are no exception, addicted to the way you nip at his lips, tug at the skin of his shoulder with your mandible so close to his pulse.

Doesn't matter how, he just gets off to the threat of dying when it's imposed by a partner when you get creative.

Like biting.

The idea of his life perfectly held in your mouth as you use him like a toy is something he doesn't even need to admit since it's so obvious to you whenever your near him.

Everytime you lean against his shoulder or neck after training or in the mess hall, fixated on where the skin of your cheek rests against the fabric of his uniform, so close to his skin.

He's thinking of every which way you could hurt him

Baring his neck to you like some dog in heat, you don't disappoint in understanding his wants, crying in delight when your mouth found it's mark.

But one simple bite wasn't enough for him, he's greedy like that, wanting you deeper than just the rings of red grazing his neck.

"Ha-harder, please harder, I need it-ah! I need you, u-under my skin, in my blood, please!"

To see his skin stained with your saliva and his blood, wearing it like some sick version of lipstick coating your mouth while you draw out his ecstacy. He can't get enough.

He's a bloody mess by the time you’re done, probably needing an infirmary visit with those bites of yours.

Pulling him by his hair once you two are alone, forcing his head back to expose his mangled neck to add another bruise or scar, he can't describe the sick pleasure that melts over his senses.

A mixture of instincts screeching to run coupled with knowing there is no escaping the looming threat of death.

He’s insatiable, wanting any resemblance of the feeling imposed by you.

You’re his angel of life and death, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Seeing the endless amounts of bites he's asked from you, they make a sick tapestry of his skin, he'll examine if your ever away from him on a mission.

Remembering the soft punctured skin, the sounds of both pain and pleasure rolling from your throat before digging your nails into him while, snapping at whatever skin of his isn't already bleeding.

Taking in the overlapping of old scars with new bites as if being rewritten in your image.

If he's feeling extra lonely without you, it's not the same as your hands but he'll manage in choking himself with his dog tags, pressing down on what bruises he can still feel to give off the illusion of the delicious pain only you can give him.

There's a lack of fear to the bloodshed he can't cherish enough when you get bloody, mutual understanding death is so close but never reached, only ecstasy & pain.

The softness of your aftercare never fails to make him melt, when he comes crashing down, every mark and inch of broken skin tended to before he's provided your body resting against his. If he doesn't have to go to the nurse's.

Carrie

You two become the bane of the nurses existence, the amount of times either of you have to be dragged to the infirmary with blood all over the both of you, half naked from a punctured artery or bitten up wrist would outweigh the times you've been in the rezzer.

What few times you two aren't covered on each other's bite marks is being healed of moving the sections of bites away from a healing wound.

A toothy smile is all that's needed to get him hot and bothered, a smirk his way when out shooting, a laugh at some horrid piece of information, your getting another bite branded into ya.

It becomes competition at some point to pinpoint all the sensitive spots on the other to chew to shreds, skin chewed away to muscle and blood.

"Ya call that a bite huh? I've been bit by dogs with more jaw strength, c'mon...worried you'll like the taste of me too much to stop?"

It's inevitable, Carrie encouraging you using him as a living chew toy, the feeling of your hot mouth over his skin feels better than any rush of adrenaline he'd perviously felt before having you.

Your all his thanks to his own marks he's made on you, nobody else will even get a chance with the bite scars you sport.

It only gets worse if you two are on lookout together, one of you keeping watch while the other undoes the front of their uniform, mauling and kissing like it's nobody's business.

He could care less if you two get caught, in fact he'd just get more tuned on by that fact.

Hand slinking down to undo your belt while you tried to focus your shot through the small window of the foxhole.

"Betcha wanna get caught like this huh? Let the enemy have a show while you get off from just a few bites, fuck...we're filthy aren't we?" He chuckles into your neck before licking over a bite on your collarbone.

It becomes a pavlova effect to get him off, after realizing there hasn't been a single time you haven't tried snapping your teeth around the other.

Neither of you imagining the animalistic grappling of the other without knashing jaws and cut lips.

Testing this theory the next time you top him, you cruelly hold back as well as stop him from biting you.

Holy fuck does he hate it, squirming and thrashing against your grip after a while, he had more than enough stimulation to get him off.

But something was missing while you sneered down at his predicament, rolling your hips tantalizing.

"The hell are ya doin? Gh- this your way of getting back for last time-haah! C'mon now, don't ya want another taste of me? Fuuuuck I'll be gentle now if that's whatcha gettin at."

He'd slowly begin to beg, squirming and writhing while exposing his neck in an attempt to entice you.

Knowing he can't finish until he feels your teeth deliver that sickeningly warm thrill flow through him accompanied by the climax.

It would take more than five rounds for him to admit it, assuming you already know in his eye you look absolutely breathtaking being just as animalistic and passionate as him.

No matter if you look human of are a contam, the sight of you both bloody yet still eager to ravage the other like two animals is something he'll never give up.

For a man who looks so monsterous, his eye would soften in the afterglow once you'd both run yourselves ragged and collapsed against each other in his bunk.

Refusing to let you go as he let his hand wander over your hot skin, imprinted with just as many bites as he had.

Your shared version of aftercare is lovingly parching the other up, kissing the bites better or in Carrie's case gently nuzzle his tusks across your skin, breathing in the sweat and blood on your bodies.

His hand tracing your bloody lips, smudging the blood over your skin before licking it off far more gently than anticipated.

The one eye of his looking at you with the closest thing to devotion he can convey.

Warwick

Biting Warwicks's fat stomach and chest could cure you of 95% of your problems let's be real, and he more than encourages it.

Naturally running hot, feeling him up against you it only encouraged your need to feel him deeper, as close as possible which he found quite amusing.

He can't reciprocate the same kind of biting you deliver him, knowing he'd have to keep himself under control if he ever did.

That doesn't stop him from spoiling you rotten, he'd especially get off to you biting his chest,

"Greedy lil' leech huh? Can't keep those pretty teeth to yourself?"

He knows it's soothing to you, a bit of control and grounding in this environment, every soldier is bound to develop the few odd habits and kinks.

Takes pride in your markings especially for a possessive reason, even if they can't be seen, the feeling sat deep into his skin is enough to remind him of you.

Offers you his arm whenever your both caught in a stand still with the enemy, it's not much but he needs you in top condition and stress won't help either of you.

And the last thing he'd want is you biting yourself.

"Go on, have a bite while I think of a plan luv, we'll have em pinned before ya add another bruise."

He'll laugh if you ever apologize at biting too hard, always cowering like some kicked pup before kissing the wound, even with his looks and all he's endured, your worry for being too harsh is sweet.

There's a certain appeal to getting you off while you bite his skin, feeling your grip tighten he drives you closer to release body growing tense and arched like a bow.

But as well as the softer side when your so close to sweet euphoria as he steadies you, surrounding you with care, it all feels so good you can't help but unlatch your jaw in a moan. It gets him everytime knowing he makes you feel so good.

Even with understanding, he will absolutely use your love of biting him against you if needed, he has to keep you in line some way.

As a punishment, if ever needed, he can and will muzzle you with his belt or a piece of gauze, you still get to bite something, just not him which becomes your least favorite punishment.

Often getting a rise out of you to either behave and take it or be more of a brat while he teases you.

All that warm, bite able chest and stomach still holding some hickeys from last time just out of reach from your mouth drives you up the wall.

He only teases you more when your worn out by the end of the night, body become a puddle of warm buzzing til you feel his thumb trace your lips with a soft chuckle.

"So much for bearing your teeth huh, no more bite left in you now?"

As a small tease Warwick bobbs at the skin of your neck between kisses, even if he can't bite you safely, they find little ways to leave his mark on you one way or another.

Is always considerate of any wounds he or you receive, after letting you come back down to earth and getting your bearings, he'll let you tend to any bites you left on him that might've broken skin.

Whispering against your neck as he holds your waist that he hopes they scar so he'll be yours forever.

The Ascetic

Biting becomes the only thing he will allow you to do while having a session, telling themselves it's painful whenever you sink your teeth in around their fingers, trying to keep you quiet while they unravel you nerve by nerve.

Telling themselves there was little chance it would give them pleasure...even when the bite marks burn long after he's done with you, laying in his own bunk while the odd sensation aided the flames of passion.

It only grew when one night while your bunkmates were asleep, you couldn't keep your voice down and bit them in an attempt to muffle a cry, clinging to him desperately while he strung out your long awaited orgasm.

You bit their shoulder through the fabric, the reverb of your cry from the hold of your jaw traveled down their spine straight to their core like molten gold.

Almost finishing alongside you if he hadn't steeled his self control at the last minute, chastising himself internally for such carelessness.

They’re ever thankful you didn't notice in the blinding climax as they went through the motions of aftercare with shaking hands.

Laying you down to rest before running his hand over the spot you bit, torn between rubbing the feeling away or to check if the imprint went deeper than just his clothes.

After that, they grow curious with your oral fixation, being cautious to not grow so close to release like before, but walking the fine edge of it whenever you came to them.

Subtly positioning their arm in front of you when spooning, so he can watch over your shoulder the way your teeth marks dig into his skin followed by a whine or a twitch of your jaws hd on him.

It was cute in his eyes, like a dog refusing to give up a toy.

It's never too harsh to break skin, concluding it to be a way to ground yourself in all that sensation, as well as just keeping quiet.

This prompts their own form of experimentation for the next few nights.

Gagging you with their beaded necklace when you get too mouthy, watching the movement of your jaw as your teeth wrapped around the beads coating them in saliva grind together.

"There...hopefully now you can keep your jaws to yourself along with your whining. Unless you want to be muzzled with something else?"

He wonders how you feel about being bit, earning his curiosity a new way to please you.

Laying down on your back while he goes down on you, he lets his teeth wander earning him a flinch of your hips. That's a good sign...

Satiating their compulsion, they smiled eagerly with the skin of your thigh caught between their teeth, the melody of your cry smothered by your hands.

"Interesting, so you enjoy being bit just as much as your need to do it to me...how curious."

You can expect your shoulders and thighs to be sore the next day with all the love bites by the time the lights of the bunker flicker back on.

Your hunger will be his ruin one of these days...