#n.sfw.

Victor Gideon

• Yes. Victor's dick WILL kill you. Yes, your jaw IS going to lock. No, you cannot deep throat the entire thing at once, you're going to suffocate- and Jesus fucking Christ you're actually doing it. It's long, and thick, and you need significant prep to take it and get pleasure at the same time, which makes quickies either a hassle or outright impossible.

•All the snake imagery/referencing (he literally has a forked tongue in the Leon interrogation???) makes me think whatever he was injected with gave him weird mutations. Like two dicks or some sort of heat vision. Take this as you will.

Zeno

•Terribly impulsive, considering he would be alive if he listened to Grace instead of being a big dumb dumb and injecting himself with Elpis. He'd totally fuck you in his office- Or Victor's, if he's really feeling petty- and sometimes gets touchy mid meeting. Zeno cares about his image, sure, but he's also starved of affection and, again, likes having a hand on or around you at all times.

Grace Ashcroft

•Beloved wife <3 Grace isn't a particularly serious person during sex. She tries to keep the mood as light and sweet (and kind of cheesy) as possible with little jokes sprinkled throughout. Expect a lot of checks in, reassurance, and hand holding during.

•Albert Wesker is emotionally unavailable, no matter how long or closely you know him. What little he's told you about his history isn't satisfying or soothing enough to any interest you might have, and typically, you have to go digging yourself- Be it ravaging his office for answers while he's away, or accidentally passively finding mentions of him scattered around the web. His love is infuriatingly subtle and never explicitly stated; Almost to a “blink and you'll miss it,” degree. Most of his care happens while you're sleeping.

•Zeno is apprehensive about his own history, being a clone, but after a point, he'll (slowly, with some encouragement,) start talking more in depth about himself. He'll stay in the mornings until you wake up, and lacks the hindering craving for privacy that his genetic predecessor seems to be unable to shake- PDA in a hand on your hip/waist; Regular dates or going out, a lot more kisses, etc.

•Arguments can be made for both of them in terms of their experience, and you could really go either way. I personally believe Zeno has had more prior sexual experience than Wesker for a few reasons: Zeno gets out a lot more with The Connections, and is afforded more breaks, meaning before he met you, he'd probably had a few partners. That's not to say Wesker is a virgin, though, and he makes up for a lot with how fast he learns/adapts to your likes.

•Wesker doesn't have a particularly high libido. He requires less attention than most would, and when he is in the mood, you're usually there to help. On the off chance you're not, however, he doesn't jerk off; instead burying or willing a hard on away with work until he can ignore it and waiting until he gets home to fuck you. Zeno is a little more open to risks and struggles with a wait- Palming himself through his pants or fucking his fist under the desk when he's sure he's in the clear.

Ever since Mark had plucked you off the street mid fight and locked you away in his room on a Viltrumite ship parked outside Earth's gravitational field, he'd been staring at you with a kind of expectative glint in his eye that spoke of nothing good for you, or your future. When he wasn't getting into fights, he was bouncing on his heels close behind you, eyes crinkled and smile crooked while he blabbered on about killing some poor soul or squashing rebellions, until you'd respond negatively. Mark gave little indication he cared at all about privacy when you woke up at odd hours of the night to find him cuddled up to you or standing in the corner and watching you sleep, butt ass naked and only barely visible under distant light through the metal shutters over the windows.

He drapes himself over your shoulders as you walk, going increasingly slack until his legs drag behind him on the floor, and you eventually crumple under his weight, hard. He crawls over you, arms circling your waist and face emerging over your shoulder. He rolls onto his back with you in tow, squirming and kicking in his grip. Mark gives a little squeeze that makes you squeak and steals the breath from your lungs. When you go limp, he tightens his grip around your middle, only loosening with disappointment when he doesn't get the reaction he seems to want from you. He whispers close to your ear, cheek squishing against yours. “Aww, come on. Do it again. I like when you struggle.”

He gives another squeeze that makes your ribs and back pop in a way that sets off your nerves before he gives up, but his grip doesn't relinquish. Your head lifts, before you let it fall, the back of your skull banging against his nose and earning you a groan that doesn't sound pained, but instead pleased. You doubt you've done any damage, because there's no crunch of the cartilage on his nose, and your head just winds up pounding. Mark draws his legs up to plant his feet flat on the ground, sitting both you, and himself up.

He sets his hand on your thigh and pauses, fingers lightly pressing into the meat of your leg. When you don't tell him to stop, he brings it to hang over the side of his leg, low and slow in case you want to tell him to fuck off. His other hand comes around and hooks it on the invisible magnetic zipper of the Viltrumite uniform on your body, before he slowly drags it down with a finger, and you tense when the cold air of the ship washes over your skin, flinching from the breeze and eyes squeezing shut. Mark's lips meet your cheek in a gesture that's too sweet to not be backing something that's about to be nefarious. And nefarious it is, because shortly after he's sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, and you elbow him in the stomach hard reflexively.

He doesn't move, or keel, and he's still biting your face like a fucking animal, but the absurdity of it all stops mattering when he's slowly dragging his hand down your middle, and his thumb teasingly toys with the elastic band of your panties, pulling it back and letting it slap against your stomach. You feel him smile against your cheek when you quiet, and he lazily dips his palm to flatten over your clothed crotch. He rubs you through the thin fabric, steadily letting his pace quicken until the material soaks through, and you're melting in his lap, drool forming at the corner of your lip and hips bucking into his hand.

Before a ringing catches your attention, and you're reeled back from the edge of an orgasm when all the touches pull away. He shoves you off his lap and shoots to his feet, eyes darting between the flashing, chirping device attached to his hip, and you. “Sorry, babe. Duty calls.”

You can tell Starscream and Skywarp are probably snarling at each other- professor to processor,- because there's an electrical, high-pitched, rhythmic sort of whine emitting from deep inside their chassis as they glare at each other with white-hot hatred in glowering, cherry optics. It was something they- Cybertronians, the other Decepticons, not just your Seekers- did when they specifically didn't want you listening in- entire conversations held through sharp, intensive eye contact and air caught and stilled in one's intake, before one tore away, irritated, and moved on like nothing happened.

Starscream's pace is near brutal- The metal base of his array cold as it kisses against your cunt, and every drag of his hips pushing your head further down onto Skywarp's spike in a way that has you bracing your hands against the purple seeker's thighs. Skywarp moves slower and lazier, letting you breathe as he coaxes your mouth along the length of his fat spike, and your jaw strains with the weight of it.

But, for all their aggression and competitive strides for your attention, your mind can't help wandering back to Thundercracker. His voice is soothing, even as you struggle to make out the words beyond the rush of blood through your ears and lewd, wet slapping of metal against skin. He sits at the edge of the bed, one servo burying in his valve and the other rolling small circles over your clit. Thundercracker’s optics are dimmed, half-shuttered, and a smile plays on his dermas, offering a flash of perfectly straight, silver dentae. You squirm under his gaze, feeling the weight of his attention as it lingers on the way your throat bulges with Skywarp's spike.

Galvatron //

-Thigh man. In every sense. Have you seen him? Good lord. He loves when you fuck yourself against his thigh, and 100% makes you do so either in front of his troops- Or Unicron's decapitated head. To add insult to injury, he seems to have a thing for insulting and humiliating you for his own pleasure, and as a result he's completely insufferable.

Mirage //

•Valve/pussy eating KING. And.. An evil tease. Genuine worst on the planet who you want to- and should- wallop over rather helm. He'll make eye contact the entire time, smiling against your skin with an idiot all while holding you down by the hips and forcing you still so you have to rely on what he's willing to give. Mirage isn't all that different when he's sucking off a spike, though- Lazy pumps of the wrist and slow, easy smirks that tell you he knows everything, no matter how hard you try to avoid appealing to his ego.

Rodimus //

•His favorite thing in the whole wide galaxy? Spikewarming. Being ridden. Anything where he can sit back and, if you want or need it, let him take the lead. He likes to claim sitting on his spike while he works helps him focus, but if you were to read of his throwaway report drafts, it'd be a bunch of gibberish and keyspams. He usually breaks after a few minutes and just winds up fragging you on his desk, but being able to relax while he can is something he loves and always appreciates being able to do with you regardless.

Starscream //

-His wings are extremely sensitive, but you can't help reaching up and grabbing or pulling on them when he's giving you the spiking down of a lifetime. And every time you do, he pauses- Hip struts stuttering and vent catching in his intake as he shutters before getting right back to it- If only a little shakier and more vocal than before, but trying to hide it in your neck.

-Pretty valve. Always wet with transfluid when you pay attention to him, even before your hands are on his frame. He'll deny it ‘til the day he offlines, though.

Jetfire //

•Dacryphilia. It's not because of any hidden sadistic tendencies or reason, but because of the vulnerability of it- Crying during sex for one reason or another; You being emotional, feeling safe with him- Always gentle and tenderly wipes away your tears with his thumb before pressing a kiss to your lips and your forehead. Best aftercare out of this list.

Dinobot //