#reqiuem

act i

“‘c’mon, baby, thought i taught you better than that…” leon grunts out, voice low and strained, eyebrows knitted together in frustration as he glares at your small frame on your knees between his spread thighs. you smile while staring up at him, hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you press another kiss to his tip. you’d been giving him kitten licks to his tip for a few minutes now, sucking it in and out of your mouth as you gaze up at him knowingly.

leon hisses, a strong hand tangling in your tresses, a silent reminder of his dominance as he encourages you to take his thickness deeper into your mouth. you finally oblige, lips pushing past the swell of his tip as you slowly take him in your mouth. leon exhales at the stimulation, gaining a bit of relief from your cruel teasing.

taking a curious glance at leon, your eyes stare into his sultry, heavy-lidded ones as you take in his expression. he’s beautiful, you think, eyebrows furrowed as he fights to not buck his hips. his lips are parted slightly, begging to be kissed as the most heavenly sounds you’ve ever heard in your life leave his mouth.

“don’t look at me like that, baby. just makes me wanna fuck that little mouth of yours even more.” leon purrs, grip on your hair tightening as your mouth sinks deeper onto his cock, nearly bottoming out. you can’t help but moan at the suggestion, already feeling the wetness pool in your panties at the thought of being used for his pleasure.

leon’s head lulls back at the vibration, a deep groan leaving his mouth as he fights the urge to just fuck your throat relentlessly. his hips buck ever so slightly as his cock hits the back of your throat, hissing at the sensation. you gag at the motion, hand coming to his thigh abruptly to brace yourself. leon’s resolve quickly unravels as he pushes your head down fully on his cock. you whine, mouth full and tears pricking at your eyes as his other hand comes to hold your head in place.

“that’s it, take this cock. ‘s what you get for teasing me, brat.” leon grits out, moaning as your glossy eyes stare into his half-lidded ones. bucking his hips up in an experimental thrust, he fucks into your wet mouth and sets a steady pace for you to adjust to.

“fuck, baby… can’t help myself, you’ll take it like a good girl, right? gonna use this pretty little mouth and then bend you over and fuck you stupid. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he purrs, quickening his pace as tears and drool cover your face messily.

the wet, obscene sounds of you gagging and slurping around him fill the room as he fucks your throat deeper, cock throbbing and heavy on your tongue.

you’ll never tease leon kennedy again, you think. at least, that’s what you’ll tell yourself when you can finally breathe…

© cametoile ♡ + ↻

Gideon egt your ass out OF HERE (suggestive warning)

grace ashcroft x bela dimitrescu

WORD COUNT - 1024

She drawled her vowels with a faint Romanian whisper.

“Let us help you,”

The woman said her name in the same, discomforting gait. “Grace Ashcroft.”

-

The road is blurred by an onslaught of conifers and snow, ending suddenly at a break in the dirt. Barbed wire laid in taut, ecclesiastical panes, connecting the trees to one another in a makeshift fence. Grace tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, slowing the car down till the exhaust fumed a slow hum and the radio momentarily continued its static.

She buried her cheek in her hand.

“You can do this, Grace.”

It only served to remind her of the scars on her forearm. She closed her eyes, imagining she was anywhere but, leaning against the plush leather of the car seat. Her seatbelt pushed against her chest as she heaved.

“Youve done this before.”

She whispered, placing her fingers on the buckle and loitering there for a minute. Her bag was in the trunk, with her gun and other necessary supplies.

In, and out. Just a quick report. Nothing too complicated. Snap photos, leave.

Her camera hung against her neck as she unbuckled herself from the seatbelt. Grace almost fell attempting to rid herself from the dirty, mud-caked Sedan, before collecting herself on her palms and standing.

She followed round the car, till she reached the trunk and pulled her bag from its throng of useless junk. The weight was a familiar comfort on her back. She slid the gun from the front pocket and placed it in her pockets holster.

Grace's fingers crossed the trigger, before setting it back down. She remembered how to shoot. It was ingrained into her since Gideon. Every night she would wake with her pistol on her bedside and her fingers taut ready to pull at a gust in the air.

The BSAA had employed her for the Village of Shadows operation as an analyst.

Just-

Just whatever.

She closed the trunk with a resplendent thud, as she crossed the packed dirt and crouched under the wire. Her hands sliced along the barb, a slight dribble of blood rushing down her palm.

“Fuck!”

She swore under her breath, wiping the blood off on her jacket. It still bled, but she hadn't the energy to fetch her first aid kit for something as menial as a cut- so she endured as she walked past the forest to the village.

A Sony model, her camera flicked into her fingers.

The mid-afternoon sun casted the town in a hazy gait, fog coming from the ground and indulging the laze of hovels in a strange glow.

It looked like pure destruction. Drafts of wood hung open in gaping wounds, homes slaughtered by the packed snow.

Grace shivered, pulling her jacket closer, inching her gun nearest to her palm.

She entered one of the homes, having enough respect to find the door. It clicked open, and she saw the breadth of a kitchen, rotting food poured over the countertops and maggots feasting on the clouded over eyes of a dead villager.

She screamed, and dropped her gun-

Fuck, fuck, what was she supposed to do?

She turned around, before crouching and checking the man's pulse. Grace turned his head softly to reach his neck and confirmed her suspicion.

He was dead.

She looked up at the roof, where blood still dripped from the rafters. There were claw marks on the ceiling.

She picked up her gun cautiously, checking her back as she exited the home. Grace was leaving, now. Fuck the mission. If they wanted intel so bad, they could come here themselves with a more equipped arsenal.

Grace wondered what could have made those marks. She walked past the Village centre, back towards the conifers, the forest suddenly seeming much more inviting now that she had seen what laid beyond it.

Just as she was about to crouch under the barb, a voice cued from behind her and she shook the wire. She shoved herself under it, before a hand clasped around her ankle and sliced her collarbone on the wire. She bled across her button down shirt, soaking through the thin linen.

“Help!”

Grace grasped at the dry wafts of snow, blood nestling around her fingers as the figure dragged her back, laughing.

Her camera fell from her neck. Grace kicked back, a startled sound awakening from the darkness behind her as she huddled and crawled towards the camera- if she was going to die, she was at least going to save the footage for somebody to find her. She would leave no evidence of the BSAA’s affair for whoever currently had their interests set on her.

She shattered the lens, and hastily removed the SD card from the holster, throwing it across the dirt road, the film crackling with opalescent tears across the weeded patches.

She turned back around, searching her waist for a gun before a figure sounded behind her, a hand coming to rest on her neck.

“Looking for this?”

She felt the cold butt of metal reach the back of her head as she winced, pleading-

“Please-!”

Grace turned to see the figure. A blonde woman with a malignant onyx tattoo on her forehead of a rose and its thorns. She was dressed in the same goth flair, black drapes falling in ecclesiastical lines against her gaunt forearms as she reached past her neck to press.

Not choking, not yet. Just the threat, loitering and poised at her windpipe.

The woman dropped her against the snow as Grace collected her bearings, her glasses falling short against her nose as she folded her fingers and pushed them up.

“Tell me,”

She began.

“What brings you here, little one?”

She chucked obscenely, and Grace noticed a sickle at her side.

“G-grace Ashcroft, F-FBI-“

Just what the fuck had the BSAA gotten her into? She fumbled with her still bleeding palms, forcing herself to stand as a hand came to steady her on her shoulder.

“Youre injured, yes?”

Grace was taken aback by the woman's concern. She nodded vehemently, pressing her hand against the wound on her palm. It stung like shit.

She drawled her vowels with a faint Romanian whisper.

“Let us help you,”

by @/avril.en on instagram

Watch Bella Ramsey in their new horror short, REQUIEM.

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