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bitebitesnap · 18 days ago

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yeah hi can I get a uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh more?

(Never) Enough [AO3]

Doom Slayer x Fem!Reader

It's finally DONE.

TW: Smut, NSFW/MDNI, canon typical violence mentioned, self denial of feelings, brief mentions of trauma, brief(?) angst, some generic dweebishness via the author being a dweeb (cringe).

Lmk if I missed anything, this shit is long and I cannot for the life of me read anything else right now.

Song [YT]: Binary - Thenightimeproject

Word count: 21,277

Companionship.

Sitting in a quiet fortress was relaxing for a time. It was someplace to rest his mind as much as his body when it felt needed. It was a place to be… Human. Under all the armor and gore, he was, to an extent, still just human. And that meant, sometimes, it got too quiet. Quiet enough for sounds of the past and long faded memories to whisper just on the edge of his mind. Quiet enough that the silence held him captive. Frozen as the memories plagued just the edge of his mind. Even with VEGA there.

That’s about when he found her. Scared and fighting in a blind panic to survive the hordes, she would’ve died had he not helped her. Like the others he’d saved. When he tried to leave, she reached out, hand holding so tight in a vice-like grip on his gauntlet.

“I don’t know what to do,” She spoke with a rasp, voice rubbed raw from screaming, “I don’t know where to go, please,” Her eyes were wide, begging him even before she finished, “Don’t leave me here.” There was fear in her eyes. They always held fear, always afraid of everything. But this time there was something strange about the fear in her eyes. Surely she knew who he was and what he did, was she really so willing to go with him? She jumped closer to him at the sound of demonic howling, pressing against him even without his answer. Like she could hide in him. Like an animal.

He took her with him.

That’s how she got there. His fortress was safe, safer than following him through the invasions. She wouldn’t leave his side at first, practically glued to his suit with her fingers digging into his arm. She tried to keep pace with him, more or less dragging her along. He dumped her in the bathroom. She got the idea, looking down at herself like she only just realized she was covered in demon viscera. A shower usually helped him. The hot water could clean it off- the blood, the sweat, the grime. The Dirt.

She seemed more steady after that. More comfortable in a worn cotton shirt and shorts cinched down from several sizes too big. He showed her around, it only taking a glance back and a jerk of his head before she was up and at his side again. She didn’t say anything the first handful of days. But she seemed to always be looking at him. He wasn’t used to that- eyes on him without malicious intent. The attention.

She startled him when she did finally speak again. She’d somehow snuck up behind him and muttered something about coffee. She seemed surprised when he spun around with wide eyes. He’d forgotten that she tended to wander by herself, though usually at a distance from him and silently. He’d need to get used to that now. Another person. A companion. Someone who seeked him out to ask questions and talk to him. At him, at times. But a voice.

“Thank you,” she said out of the blue one day. She sat across from him in the makeshift kitchen that was put together for her. He nodded, continuing to eat the food she’d cooked. He didn’t need it, but he enjoyed the flavor. The act of it, the idea of a routine.

“Why-” She paused when he looked at her. She wasn’t scared of him, she’d proven that, but she shifted in her seat nonetheless, “Why did you save me?” He stared at her.

Why did he save anyone? It was his self appointed duty. People needed to be protected and he could do that. Demons needed to be killed. He could do that too. It was simple, even if the urge to think on it more and monologue tugged faintly at him. To be frank, he wasn’t entirely sure he could put the words together anymore. He wasn’t sure how to say it, if he could say it. So he just stared.

“Okay,” she eventually spoke in confusion, looking away and getting up from the table. He frowned. It was hard being with people. She seemed to pause before turning to him, mouth moving like she was trying to find the right words. Or the courage to say them. He realized that maybe he was staring a little too much. He looked away, back to his meal. She moved towards the door out of the kitchen. Or him, it seemed when she rounded the table.

“Thank you, whatever your reason.” A warm hand ruffled his hair before she left. Touch. Human touch. Affection. He wanted her to do it again. He tried to ask her later.

She’d started joining him in his quarters. Usually either curled up in his reading chair or his desk chair, whatever he wasn’t in at the time or was closest to him. She was in his reading chair this time, one of his salvaged books open in her lap. He stared down at her. She stared back.

“What?” She asked finally. He looked away. Then back at her, hi slips pressing together. Then away again. She continued staring at him. Is this how people usually felt when he did the same thing? So… Exposed? Eventually, he decided to kneel. He paused as she shifted, watching and waiting for her to stop in case she was about to get up, before slowly continuing to the floor. Her head tilted. He leaned down, forearms bracing on an armrest, and lowered his head. One of his hands slowly ran through his hair before clasping with his other one.

“You… You want me to rub your head?” Yes! He did it! His head bobbed. “Oh, okay,” She breathed.

His eyes shut, a sigh leaving him as her fingers pushed his hair back. Her hand ran through the front of his hair a few times before pushing further back. His muscles tensed as she scratched the back of his head, almost at his neck, before slowly dragging her nails along his scalp back to the front of his head. The sensation sent a shiver through him, the tension flooding out of his body. He missed human touch. He missed it so, so much.

He shifted at one point to fold his arms and rest his head on them. He breathed another heavy sigh of contentment as her fingers traced his ear. A huff came from her in response. One of his eyes cracked open to make sure she was still alright with his request. A smile was on her face as she read her book. That had both his eyes opening. When was the last time someone smiled like that around him?... Because of him? He wasn’t so sure she was smiling because of him, but the thought crossed his mind for some reason. A glance and she caught him looking. Her smile vanished like it’d never existed and her hands paused. His eyes squeezed shut and he turned to press them into his arm; He won’t look. His head rolled into her hand; please, don’t stop. A hum and her fingers went back to tracing shapes onto his scalp.

She started meeting him upon his return after that.

“Welcome back,” a small smile on her face as he nodded to her. He liked it. He liked coming back to someone other than Vega waiting for him. A living person. He tended to stop beside her, stooping low enough that she could reach up and ruffle his hair. No matter how sweat slicked his hair was, she always did it. She talked more often now as well. Sometimes blurting out thoughts or asking seemingly random questions. She learned to only ask yes or no if she actually wanted an answer. Sometimes he wanted to pipe up. His lips would part like he was going to speak, but nothing would come out. She seemed okay with that though. He was thankful for that.

“That looks fun,” She commented, stopping beside his desk chair. He nodded, eyes not leaving his monitors. It was some relaxing game he played to pass the time and let his mind quiet. She stayed for a bit to watch him play. When she left he couldn’t help but frown. He liked having her close. He enjoyed her presence just being with him. But she had free reign of most of the fortress, he couldn’t make her stay. He could consider asking her though.

Slightly heavier footsteps re-entered the room and something was placed next to him. He looked over as she sat, legs pulled up and crossing as she got comfortable beside him. Her eyes met him, pausing as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t’ve. They stared at one another for a long moment.

“Sorry,” She said at first, his brows raising in surprise, “I wanted to watch you play. I didn’t even think that this might be your, uh, you time,” He blinked, “I can… Leave?” She’d hesitated to say it despite one leg uncrossing like she was about to get up. He shook his head quickly, hand placed on her knee to keep her from getting up.

“I can stay?” He squeezed her knee softly as he nodded. She smiled. A feeling stirred in him at the sight. He liked when she did that. He wished more people would smile at him like that. And even if they did, hers was… different. Somehow. He tried to reciprocate. He couldn’t quite tell if he was smiling. He hoped he was. Her eyes widened so he must have managed something.

“So,” A small breath left her, sounding a bit like a nervous laugh, as she turned to his computer screens, “What are you doing?” He looked at her a moment longer, noticing a tint rise to her cheeks. He shook any incoming thoughts off. Turning back, he showed her.

He taught her how to play after a while. He even made a new profile on his computer just for her. He hadn’t put much thought into what she did while he was gone, but he at least knew she wouldn’t be bored now. When he did think about her lately, it was about seeing her again, Seeing her smile. Feeling her hands run through his hair. Having her close so the fortress wasn’t so… Empty. Now, he hoped she was having as much fun up there as he was having vanquishing evil elsewhere.

✯✯✯

The woman the Slayer brought back had adjusted well to the fortress. However temporary her time there may be. She’d been a soldier, once. A long time ago it felt like now. Uncountable days in the past where she had to fight to eat and eat to fight. So far away from this quiet- usually quiet- place. He’d saved her. He was a Hero. God, how long had she been yearning for one? How many nights turning to halfhearted prayers that something would save her from the literal hell on earth.

Granted, she hadn’t been expecting the Slayer. She wasn’t sure what she expected, so when she saw him the first time she had no idea who he was. She had no idea who she’d begged to take her with him. It didn’t click until the Fortress ai spoke- VEGA it was called. Then, when she found him again later, out of armor and still hulkingly huge, he turned on her with the sweetest brown eyes she’d ever seen. The man felt like the definition of two-faced.

But staying with the Slayer was better than she had been living for a long time. And so when he asked, she did as she could. Well, kind of asked. Their communication was still pretty much one sided most times. But it was ok most times. Other times, it did make things a bit difficult. But they managed. She managed. She could do at least that.

Nowadays, her most pressing issue wasn’t who she had to solicit for food or water, or clothes, but what to do while he was gone. Sometimes she tried to talk with VEGA. It was helpful. At times. Doctor Hayden didn’t seem pleased that she was there, but he never said anything outright against her. To her. He might have said something to the Slayer, but she was still there and not deposited someplace planet side.

Sometimes she cleaned, heeding warnings from VEGA to avoid specific areas and machinery when she broke out a bucket and soap. Nothing was ever particularly dirty unless the Slayer had just walked through post mission. She prepped food every few days or so. She wasn’t always awake when he returned but she wanted to make sure he had something to eat. Killing demons was hard work. Hard work required fuel. And she was more than happy to provide as a means to pay back his kindness.

What had surprised her the most on this strange ship though, was the computer in his quarters. She was surprised he was able to play video games- the logistics of it, not the fact that a man whose sole purpose seemed to be slaying demons had downtime. He deserved it. Now she was able to play video games too. She hadn't had the chance in the past, either being too poor or too busy surviving. She tried not to let him find out how thrilled she’d been when he showed her the second profile he made for her. She had a feeling he knew anyway with the glint of amusement he had in his eyes. It was like he’d given her a little corner of his machine. Like her own corner she’d taken up in his fortress. More kindness.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel something for the man. Big and strong but so very, very soft. She could see it in him everytime he interacted with her. Like he was scared of hurting her simply by existing. He never did. His hands were warm on the rare occasion he touched her. Scarred and rough, but gentle. She was so close to taking a closer look at those mitts, wanting to grab his hands and splay them out to look over. She wanted to ask him about every scar and feel out every one of those calluses. Place her lips against them and mutter out thank yous for each one-

She paused the game she’d been playing. Where did that thought come from? Would he understand what she was doing? Did she understand what she wanted him to understand? Hell, he had her petting him like some sort of pet every time he came back. Did that even mean anything? His hair was soft and fluffy after he washed up and came to her for more scratches. She could pull on it. She could move from kissing the calluses on his palms to further up his arms. Would he understand what she wanted then? Would she? What if she traced his veins up to his throat and across his jaw? Kissed his tempting lips that pressed together and moved so much despite him not saying anything? Could he stay mute if she pulled hard enough? What is she-

“Shit-!” The controller clattered to the floor, her grip having weakened the further her mind strayed. She jumped at the noise, reaching down after it like she could still catch it. Gingerly she looked it over. It was okay. She wasn’t though. She was in his chair, in his clothes, in his fortress, fantasising about him while he was out fighting demons. Out fighting for goof. Fuck, if that didn’t make things worse.

Her mind turned itself over as she tried to rationalize its sudden and new direction of thoughts.

It was only natural, right? He was a kind, powerful, decidedly handsome man. Who saved her life. She was only human. It was fine. It was fine to have a crush on a hero. It was fine to have a few dirty thoughts here and there. They were the only two up here and she hadn’t had any company in- shit, it was years wasn’t it? It was natural for her to want him then. Natural to suddenly feel so hot and bothered at the thought of him. So hot and bothered by his presence when he wasn’t even there. Oh, but he was everywhere. His place, his things- Hell she noticed now more than ever just how big his shirt was on her. Everything here belonged in some way to him. She should belong to him too.

The game was quit. The pc shut down. The controller abandoned.

✯✯✯

It’d been a very long mission. He wasn’t supposed to feel fatigue. But, in a way, he still did. The thought of going back to the ship, having a shower and playing guitar for a while sounded amazing. And eating. He knew she’d have something ready for him. And her.

Upon arrival at his base, she wasn’t there to greet him. That was fine. She wasn’t like him, she needed sleep. He kept telling himself that as he went to remove his armor for cleaning. He kept telling himself that as he showered off all the grime and viscera. He kept telling himself that as he got dressed and practically sulked- despite the fact he likely wouldn’t admit that’s what he was doing- to the kitchen. His mind quieted upon seeing his portion of food with a note attached.

Welcome Back! Good job on the Mission!

It felt strange seeing the little note in quick scrawl. She hadn’t done that before. But she did this time. His fingers gently pulled the note from where it was stuck to the container, holding it ever so carefully. It was like she knew he would come back in such a state. That feeling he’d been getting around her more often lately fluttered in his chest the longer he stared at the handwriting. He did do a good job, didn’t he? He killed so many demons. Shot them, crushed them, ripped them, tore them- Yeah, it was a job well done. The food was delicious as always. The note found a new home on his desk.

It was a handful of hours later when the sound of her footsteps caught his attention. He turned, controller held in his lap and about ready to pull her to sit with him so he could enjoy her presence. He paused upon seeing her. She looked exhausted.

“Welcome back,” She mumbled, squinting at him like it was too bright in the room. Had she woken up to greet him? Had VEGA woken her up? Best to let her get back to sleep. He nodded before turning part way back around. At a second thought, he paused, swiveling back around to look at her. His head tilted in question.

“What?” She asked. Her brows were tense over sleep darkened eyes, her jaw was set tight and he could see her pulse fluttering at her neck. A nightmare? A pit caught in his chest that had him setting aside the controller. His gaze fixed on her incase she moved, hand reaching out slowly for her wrist. She offered the appendage to him, letting his fingers barely wrap around her wrist and tug her nearer. His other hand reached up, flinching almost as the touch dulled calluses of his fingers brushed her cheek. He gave in, carefully cupping her cheek. His thumb carefully traced the dark circles beneath her eyes. His head tilted again.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Her eyes avoided him. She could be looking at the starscape outside his quarters. He considered the idea until she looked back at him before looking away just as quickly. He didn’t like that. He frowned at a thought; Why lie to him? He stood, towering over her by at least a foot, and blocked her view. He was the only thing she could see now. Only him. Her eyes finally dragged their way up to his face, heat blossoming under his hand as her cheeks flushed. He wanted answers. Proper ones. His thumb ran along her dark circles again.

“I promise,” she started, eyes boring into his and index finger from the arm he’d held curling around his own finger, “I just haven’t gotten good sleep lately. I’ve been having…” She tried looking away as she stuttered for an answer. His head moved with her gaze so she couldn't, “Dreams that keep me up.”

Nightmares. But why now? No, wrong assumption. Was she ashamed to be having nightmares? Were they about him? Is that why she couldn’t seem to look at him straight? So many questions. No words to ask them. He heaved a sigh and placed his forehead against hers. He needed to trust her word. She hadn’t given him a reason not to. If she couldn’t tell him what it was, he didn’t have any right to pry. She’d have to tell him in her own time. Despite how much he wanted to know so he could try and do something for her.

I believe you. For now. He brought her face up to look at him, his thumb one more time running over the dark circles. But please tell me if something’s bothering you. He hoped that despite his lack of words she understood what he was trying to say.

“I’m alright,” She breathed before changing the subject, “Did you eat?” He nodded with furrowed brows. She smiled briefly, different from what her smile was usually like, “Good,” She said before pulling away. Her finger slipped from his, soft skin dragging against his rough calluses. His hand itched to reach back out and hold hers properly, engulf her smaller hand in his. But he didn’t. And she was gone.

The room felt that much colder without her. And quieter. Her skin had been soft. So, so soft. Was the rest of her like that? A thought- no, a fantasy- flashed in his mind, quicker than he could stop it. Thighs, hips, waist. An image of her body. The feeling of his hands tracing her curves. The smell of her skin as his lips followed what his hands had mapped. His jaw and fists clenched. The image was violently shaken from his mind.

He turned back to his game. Only a few more hours before his next mission.

✯✯✯

The shower was a welcome respite against the growing heat in her body. Cool water poured over her burning skin, tempering the desire that’d started rearing its head more and more often. It made her ache in a way she didn’t think she could. It made her mind run wild and her hands travel south. Her fantasies became more vivid the worse it got, her dreams leaving her desperate and wet from more than sweat. She could feel his heat in her dreams, feel it searing along her spine. Feel his hands roaming. Feel his breath.

The moment he held her face replayed in her mind. That was the first time he touched her. The first time she felt how gentle he could be. How careful and tender his touch was despite rough hands. How much care was there. How he seemed to cradle all of her in a single touch so easily. She could melt in his arms if he’d let her. She wished she confessed- told him that he was the reason she couldn’t sleep. Wished she’d pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

His lips tempted her like no man’s before. She wanted them on her own, between her teeth, on her neck, her breasts, her hips, and anywhere else he’d put them. She wanted to feel the scar that bisected his lips against her skin. To feel his trembling breath wash against her as he panted. The Slayer, worn out and boneless after a night together. A night he could use her as he pleased, dragging her where, when, and how he wanted her. A night she would wake from to find his marks on her and sore muscles whenever she tried to move. And him beside her.

The shower wasn’t helping.

A groan of frustration left her as she tried to smother the thoughts. She couldn’t keep doing this. She felt like an animal in heat rutting against her hand all the damn time. Her wrist was starting to hurt. The cool tiles against her forehead did nothing to stop more fantasies from coming to mind. More hands, more lips, more teeth, more tongue, more muscle. She never heard him speak, not uttering a single sound, but if he ever did speak- If he spoke just so, right into her ear so she could hear him clearly, would he praise her? Would he tell her how good she took him? How good she felt? Demand her orgasm from her? She’d spill over at his command without a second thought. She did now at his imaginary one.

A small noise slipped from her before she could stop it. Her body shivered and her hips jerked as she rode the harsh waves of pleasure that rippled through her. She could feel herself clenching around nothing, her body as much as her mind begging for one man. It was only natural to want him. Only natural for her body to act like this.

But he was still a person. The cold water finally began to aid in dousing her desire. As well as her suddenly clear mind.

He was a man under that armor. A man who was kind and caring beyond anything she would have guessed the Doom Slayer of all people was capable of. He was better than most people she knew. Or had known. He saved her. He saved her. And he let her stay in probably the safest place in the universe. He couldn’t know about this. She had a lot of repaying to do without being selfish in the meantime. He deserved that. He deserved so much.

Days passed with him gone on his next deployment. Days to get a handle on herself and learn how to be normal again and get her mind out of the gutter. And she did. Her previously rampant sexual fantasies seemed to disappear during her waking hours. She’d still wake up hot and uncomfortable on occasion but it wasn’t a nightly occurrence anymore. It was a relief. Only issue now was that VEGA had started interjecting his own thoughts. Or… whatever Ais had.

“There is low probability of the Slayer not returning. Please do not worry.” She was about to shut the damn thing down if it kept making her jump and blush. Sure, maybe she’d idle a little too long around the command center, staring out at the planet side. Maybe she’d get a little lost in thought. Didn’t mean she was thinking about him… Specifically. Alright, maybe she was a little bit. Maybe she poked around on some of the consoles and tried very, very hard not to ask VEGA what he was doing or how long it’d take him. She liked having him around. She liked his quiet, steady presence.

“VEGA would you please-!” The sponge she’d been using to clean the kitchen counter was dropped as the teleporter rang out. He was back. She descended the steps as quickly as she could. He was back! She made it to the top of the stairs just as he stepped off the platform. Blood crusted deep in his armor, the stench of iron ripping through the room. His steps were heavy with weariness. He’d been gone too long. His head turned, his stare freezing her on the spot. Heat anew streaked down her spine. Viscera never looked so provocative.

His head tilted at her silence before approaching slowly. Methodically. She felt like prey under such a gaze, even with his visor between them. It became alarmingly more intense when he removed his helmet. His face seemed as weary as his posture. He stopped a few steps from her, brows pulling downward at the same time his mouth did.

“W-welcome home?” She stuttered out, looking up at him despite him being several stairs lower than her. Was he always so big? At her greeting, his brows relaxed and the corners of his mouth lifted. Her breath caught when he shifted his footing and lowered himself to kneel on one knee before her. His eyes flickered down. Hands carefully found spots at the top of her hips, despite his gauntlets, and gently tugged her closer to the edge of the stairs. Closer to him. She stumbled forward, hands going to his shoulders to steady herself. His eyes closed as he pressed his sweaty face into her stomach.

Her face had to be several shades darker than a tomato by now. This situation was NOT helping her fight off her sexual urges. Especially when he breathed deeply and sighed against her. Especially especially when his hands massaged the flesh where they sat. Heat was pooling faster now, a molten core bubbling to life as her mind kickstarted the hormone machine. He pulled back after a moment to look at her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her. She blinked down at him. He huffed at her. One of his own hands left her hips, thumb looping around her wrist and lifting it so her open palm was on his head.

Head pats? Now?! She was about to scream.

Her other hand joined, pushing back the sweat slicked locks to unstick them from his forehead. His eyes closed with another heavier sigh as she continued. Hers watched intensely as she scratched along his scalp. She wanted to see his face, take in every inch of it, every miniscule tense and twitch of his facial muscles. It’d been so long after all since she’d seen him. And now he was here. Her nails raked against his neck just over his undersuit collar. His brows furrowed and his lips parted, a sigh hissing out.

She wanted to hear him.

Her hands mirrored on both sides of his head, scratching from the very back of his hair all the way to the front. His hands tightened on her hips the further she went, pressing himself against her more and more. It was when she crested his crown towards the front of his scalp that a shiver ran through him. The tiniest sound escaped him, a low, quiet groan that rumbled against her flesh and fried her brain. His voice was so deep, so rough, practically a purr against her. All because of her. Her touch. She wanted more. Her hands pulled before she could even begin to think about what she was about to do. Brown eyes blinked open in surprise, zeroing in immediately on her flushed face.

“Come here,” She tugged again on his hair, voice barely above a whisper. His spine straightened, pulling away from her reluctantly. Her hands fell to his jaw, pulling his face up as she leaned down. Her lips kissed his forehead. The temptation to move lower as she pulled back and saw his wide eyes and slowly reddening ears gnawed at her. To kiss the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his lips… She fought the urge with a vehemence as she touched her forehead to his.

“I missed you,” she breathed with a wavering voice. His eyes widened further. Did he understand? The whine of the praetor suit broke the resulting silence and her touch. He stood before her back at full height, staring down with a strange expression and dark eyes. A hand reached up to pat her own head. Then it slipped down the side of her face, fingers taking hold of her chin. He lifted her face in his gentle manner, brows furrowing as he looked over her. He stepped closer.

Despite standing as stiff as the stone statues scattered throughout the fortress, her entire body buzzed in anticipation. Her hands clenched at her sides to prevent them from shaking. Or pulling him to her. She tried to control her breathing. Tried to stop her heart from hammering against her rib cage. He leaned over, her eyes squeezing shut. He copied her action, kissing her forehead and pulling away. Completely. When she opened her eyes, he was walking away towards the showers.

She took a moment to gather herself. Mostly to make sure the jello that called itself her legs would work properly. She didn’t need to trip right now. Instead she booked it for her room, only pausing a moment as the feeling of blood on her face set in. Kitchen first to rinse this off. Then her room.

✯✯✯

The demons had rallied themselves. Hoards on hoards attacked him in an attempt to overwhelm him. It never worked. But it did make his body and mind ache something fierce. There was only one thought in his mind as the mission came to an end; Her. She would be there waiting for him. Relief flooded his body the instant he saw her. His feet carried him to her, waiting for her to speak. She stared up at him like she didn’t believe it was him. Like a fish suddenly dragged out of water. He felt himself frown at the lack of her welcome.

“W-welcome home?” She finally stuttered out. Ah, it was home now. Not just welcome back, but welcome home. A feeling soared in his chest at the idea. But there was one more thing he wanted. Kneeling before her, he decided to toe the line he’d been trying to keep. And take maybe one more indulgence. He was definitely dirtying the clean shirt she wore as he pressed himself into her soft belly. She even smelled like the comfort of home. Or detergent. Maybe a little of both. Her hands finally running through his hair made everything fall into place.

Bliss.

He missed this. He missed her. He missed her presence, her voice, her hands running through his hair. He hadn’t noticed just how much she’d come to be a part of his existence. He found that he didn’t mind one bit though. He needed this in his life. He needed softness like hers to remind him what he was fighting for. What he had fought for. Who he’d fought for. Now it’d be for her. Her and all the other innocent souls that didn’t deserve their fates.

A groan escaped him as her nails scratched through the area where his helmet sat, interrupting his thoughts and delving straight into focusing on the sensation. It was icing on the demon-killing cake after all that work. He expected her to do it again. She didn’t. Her hands stopped for a moment before fingers fisted in his hair.

“Come here,” A tug at the strands and his eyes shot open. Her own eyes were dark, her voice echoing something in her tone. Something that called him to obey her despite not wanting to leave her softness. Her tone promised a familiar reward but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was he was expecting. Her hands were warm on his face and he allowed her to tip his head up. His mind went blank as she leant over and kissed his forehead with such tenderness. His breathing paused as she caught his stare again.

“I missed you,” She whispered. There was something more under that admission. He knew there was. Something that made his heartbeat pound in his throat and… other places. It made his body ache. He stood before her, more sinful images flashing in his mind. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He needed to take care of this himself. But she could- No. He wasn’t going to ask that of her.

He returned her affection, patting her head before the war with his urges flared up. His hand lifted her face, remaining as careful as he could with the harsh metal of his gauntlets on her. He studied her reddened face. Her dark eyes. Her lips and the way her breathing stutterd out between their slight part. Temptation. Desire. His mind refused to entertain the thought, despite his body already recognizing the feeling. He needed to leave. Now. A swift repayment to her own forehead and he tore himself away from her. Away to handle this before the thoughts and images clawing at his mind made him beg- or demand- something of her.

Armor was shucked almost carelessly, for once desperate to be out of it. A hissed breath left him as he peeled off his undersuit. It’d been a long time since he’d felt anything as strongly as his burning hatred. This burned too, a steady slow heat that crawled over his body and begged for him to drag his ass back out to the main room. He stepped into the lukewarm shower instead.

He at least rinsed his body. His rough hands scrubbed through his hair, falling to his neck as he remembered the way her hands felt. He imagined her here with him, her hands held under his own so he could have her touch him where he wanted. Dragged down his body from his shoulders, over his chest, his ribs, his stomach. He could practically feel her stare across his scarred and carved body.

His breath caught in his throat as his hand brushed through the hair below his navel. How long since he needed this type of relief? How long since he touched himself like this? He was already half hard as he took himself in hand. Her hands were smaller than his, the calluses on her palms softened since he brought her here. They’d surely feel better than his, even if the first simple stroke had his hips bucking against his fist.

She’d hate him for this. He knew she would. He saved her, practically kept her here, she fed him, fucking indulged him in petting him. And here he was fantasizing about her touch on him. Imagining her hand pushing down to the base and pulling back to the tip, her thumb, instead of his, smearing the first bead of pre around the head of his cock. He didn’t need to look to feel just how much it affected him. Didn’t need to look to know more had already started dribbling out of his dick at the mere thought. He was pitiful.

‘Feel good, Slayer?’ He could hear her voice now. Feel the ghost of her body pressing against his. His head shook, water splattering on the shower walls. Not what he wanted her to call him. He wanted to hear her say his name. His real name. He couldn’t conjure the sound of it, could barely picture her lips forming the syllables. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard his name. He wanted to hear it again. Needed to hear her say it. Then he’d know how it’d sound and what her pretty lips would look like forming around the sound.

He knew her name though. He couldn’t get it past his vocal cords, but it still felt like he was saying it under the panting of his breath. He was chanting it internally, begging her by way of her name only. It was the only thing he wanted right now. His mind pictured her smiling. She’d kiss along his jaw and neck as she whispered praises to him.

‘Slayer, I want you in me.’ His head jerked up, eyes shut tight as he clung to the fantasy. His teeth gritted together at the expression of wanton lust across her face like some skeezy pinup he used to enjoy so much during his days with the UAC. God he hadn’t had pussy in so long. He desperately fucked his hand at the thought of her letting him, wanting him, inside her. Fucking her up against some wall or table, he’d even take the floor. Whatever, it didn’t matter so much as wanting her held onto him as he plowed her senseless. Her moans would egg him on as he hit that one spot that would have her eyes rolling back. He could do it. He could please her.

‘Feels good, so good, Slayer,’ he was so close, his hips stuttering and his jaw clenching, ‘Cum for me, Slayer. In me-’ Molten pleasure crested across his body, broken gasps leaving him as his thighs shook and his cum spattered over the tile. White spots danced in his vision, a hand reaching out to brace himself as his orgasm ravaged his nervous system. He should’ve finished in her. Should’ve filled her to the brim. Should’ve kept going, fucking everything back in and deeper. His hips gave a jerk at the thought. Fuck her a second or third time-

No.

His senses returned to him as his heart rate settled. No, he couldn’t take advantage of her like that. He’d never demand such a thing. Even if it seemed like she wanted it too, what if she only obliged him because he saved her? Because she felt she had to? Because she felt indebted to him? What if she thought he’d abandon her if she didn’t want to? He’d never do such a thing. A heavy sigh pushed through his nose the more his mind spiraled. Now would be a good time to finish his shower. Tired eyes opened, finally allowing him to see his mess. A large mess. He was almost impressed.

This needed to be enough. Needed to be enough to finally settle his mind and get these depraved thoughts out of his head. It had to be enough. It had to.

✯✯✯

It wasn’t enough. Whatever amount of time that’d passed when he left and now wasn’t nearly enough. Her fantasies were back with a vengeance, the Slayer as the prime feature in every one. Her mind called to her ear the way he might sound grunting beside her head as he bent her over the countertop. How his ragged panting would sound as he laid her out on the table, spreading her thighs wide before pushing his-

She groaned and hung her head as fantasies spiraled. She’d attempted to busy herself by cleaning the fortress. As much as it could be cleaned anyway. The plan was that the endless task list she had would keep her distracted both in mind and body. It didn’t. It only allowed her mind to roam more, especially knowing that he was here. He was back and she knew exactly where to find him to beg him to fulfill her fantasies. Beg him to do every dirty little thing to her that she wanted.

But this was also the Doom Slayer. Who knows if he had desires like hers. He could show affection and concern, sure. A want for touch and her presence, yes. But who knew if he was… Functional down there. For all she knew, he could be like a nun. Nuns didn’t fuck. Then again, nuns also didn’t fight demons with military munitions and shotguns. So there might be hope… hope for bloodlust maybe.

“God fucking damn it,” She hissed under her breath as she finished climbing the stairs to put the broom and dustpan away. Just this and she’d lock herself in her room to do something about the ever present ache between her legs. She didn’t need more distractions when she could practically feel his hands on her. So why she stopped outside the Slayer’s quarters was beyond her reasoning. She leaned against the door frame, head poking in as she looked around. If he wasn’t here, there was a greater chance of running into him on the way and- His head popped out from behind the high back of his reading chair. She jumped in surprise, not seeing him or hearing him until that moment.

“Hey,” She started, shifting herself out of the doorway as he stood and walked over to her, “What, uh, what’s up?” God, even out of his armor he towered over her by at least a foot. She swallowed harshly as he stared down his nose at her. He was trying to decide something. What, she had no idea. Her mind on its current, smutty train of thought however, could make a few assumptions. She could feel her face heating up as her mind pelted her with scenario after scenario of how this could end. All of them with her as a mess.

He held out a comic book, pointing to something on the cover. She leaned closer to see what exactly he was pointing at. The publisher; Taggart comics group. She looked back to him, an eyebrow raised. He tapped it again, specifically the first part.

“Taggart?” She spoke aloud, eyes looking up to him. She watched his throat move before nodding slowly. He pointed from the name to himself.

“You’re Taggart? You made these comics?” Seems like he had more time and hobbies on his hands than she originally thought. He nodded then shook his head.

“Taggart, but not comic book Taggart,” She amended, earning a nod. Great, now she had something to wail out when she-

A finger was held up, signaling her to wait. She blinked a few times as he turned and walked away. His comic was tossed to sit on the arm of his chair as he passed, going to turn on his big pc. It whirred on startup, his head motioning her to come over as it booted. She did. Even if she wanted to spite her body’s gnawing heat that bubbled at the thought of being close to him.

Daisy was his profile on the computer alongside a photo of a brown rabbit. She wanted to ask him about it. Then again in the past she had caught him staring at the portrait of him and the rabbit for longer than most tended to admire a self portrait. Or perhaps it’d been a memorial. He’d caught her attention with a wave of his hand before typing slowly across the keyboard.

Caps Lock, F-L-Y-N-N-T-A-G-G-A-R-T.

He looked at her expectantly as she thought. Realization dawned on her face as she realized, “You’re Flynn Taggart,” He nodded firmly, “Flynn,” She breathed, smiling up at him. His cheeks dusted rosy and the corner of one mouth twitched. “Can I call you that? Flynn?” He nodded twice at that, excited by the idea. “It suits you.” She smiled wider at what seemed to be joy at hearing his name. If this was his real name, how long had it been since he’d heard it? She’d be more than happy to say it as many times as he wanted.

His mouth opened, jaw dropping like he was about to speak. She waited with rapt attention, eager to hear his voice aside his usual grunts and hums. His mouth shut instead, teeth snapping with a click at the force. She almost lamented the lost opportunity. Almost. Before she could step away, a hand was placed on the back of her neck. Wide and warm with an ever gentle touch she was coming to know as his. He stepped closer, head falling to press his forehead to hers. His lips parted, the barest whisper of her name passing between them. Her face flushed hot in an instant, a shock of heat running down her spine that had her shifting on her feet.

“Flynn,” She repeated, almost demandingly. A huff of air left him. Amused. He was not about to say it again. A shame, but once was enough to have her heart pounding in her ears. He pulled away, eyes studying her for a long moment. It felt like he could see straight through her. Like he could see all the way down to the desperate pervert she was. Maybe it was her own guilt and shame that reflected in his eyes. She shifted again under the weight of his gaze. And the thumb brushing against the nape of her neck. His head tilted before shaking like trying to physically remove what he was thinking. His hand slid from her neck, fingers burning a trail of goosebumps along her skin.

“Thank you,” She blurted out before she could stop it. One of his brows raised. “Thank you for saving me. You…” You mean a lot to me, please let me show you, “You’re a good man. The best I’ve ever met.” His face got redder, looking away with a shrug and a nod. I know. She stood for a moment longer, ignoring her body’s screaming desires. It felt like seeing him for the first time. Or the last. She stepped back, leaving him lest her body attempted to make fantasy into reality.

✯✯✯

She said it.

He sat dazed in his chair, comic picked up but ultimately forgotten on his knee. She knew his name now. His real name. She said it multiple times, at least four times for his given name alone. It was still ringing in his ears. And the way she said it- so breathy and, God help him, almost needy. Like she wanted something only he could give her. And the way she looked after he said her name. Her eyes were dark and almost wild as she all but demanded he say her name again. Did he look the same to her?

A deep breath and he picked up his comic. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about her. Stop thinking. Stop…

‘Flynn-’ stop.

‘Flynn, please.’ Stop.

‘Flynn, more!’ Stop it.

‘Flynn, Flynn, Flynn-!’

The comic was almost thrown across the room. Shit. That was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have told her- shown her- whatever. But he wanted to hear it again. Hear his name, not Slayer or Marine. His. Now it wouldn’t leave his head, her voice chanting it like a mantra just for him. Voice changing and tightening, gasping his name as he raked pleasure over her body. As his head dipped against her skin-

He needed to do something about this. But what? He couldn’t bear the thought of asking her for help. What if she said no? Wait, that wasn’t the problem, he could handle ‘no’. But what if she hated him for asking? What if she demanded to leave? What if she didn’t want to leave but also felt obligated? Like she couldn’t say no? He didn’t want to do that to her. He could deal with her leaving, despite the hole in his chest at the thought. He could handle her saying ‘no’. But he would not push his needs onto her.

He was already up and walking off to where he knew she usually went off to be alone. He wanted her. He wanted to be in her. He wanted to feel her, all of her, and hear her more. Hear her moaning his name and spilling praise for him from her lips. Wanted her nails scratching at his scarred flesh and giving him wounds from something other than battle. Need. He needed her. The realization bristled heat across his flesh, the hair on the back of his neck raising. He knew it now, this ever so familiar feeling that’d been calling to him for weeks now. Carnal Lust.

He stopped outside the door to her commandeered room. His footsteps were near silent for a man of his size. She didn’t know he’d come here, he never came to her room. His hand raised, knuckles poised to rap against the door.

“Flynn-!”

The barest of gasps had him freezing. His body tensed as he waited, ears straining to hear through the siege proof door that was installed throughout the fortress. Sighs came from within, another one sounding suspiciously like his name. He stepped in, ear pressing against the door.

“Flynn, oh Flynn… Please, Flynn-!” Gasping. Begging. His name sounding like a whispered prayer. But there was more than just her voice. Sounds so quiet he wouldn’t have noticed before. Sounds muffled by more than just the door. His ear burned hot against the cool metal as he pressed himself closer. Wet. Whimpering. Filthy.

The door was opened before he could stop himself. Light spilled across part of a bed, highlighting the lower half of her body. Her legs quivered and writhed among messed covers. His eyes dragged up her arm, away from the hand between her legs, to her face. Her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and brows pulled up in the image of ecstasy. A lip bitten slipped from her teeth with another heavy sigh,

“Flynn!”

Her body shook, legs snapping together as her hand in her shorts, his boxers, stilled. He watched her face fade from desperation to satisfaction, her breathing starting to slow with her comedown. Until he was beside her bed, a knee depressing the mattress by her feet.

✯✯✯

The ache was almost too much at this point, her heart now calling out for him as much as her body. She could only resist her urges for so long before the fantasies began to take over. Especially here in her bed, sequestered far from most of the fortress and never visited by the Slayer. How she wanted him here with her though. His heat and scars pressed against her, his hands roaming as they pleased. She loved the idea of his hand instead of hers between her thighs. She begged to him, orgasm rolling over her in waves as the fantasy faded.

How she wished he was here.

A creak and sudden dip in the mattress had her eyes flying open. She almost screamed, hand flying out of her shorts at the sudden figure staring at her in the low light. The Slayer. Flynn. He sat stockstill on the very edge of her bed, eyes dark and brow pulled low. His tongue peeked out to lick his lips like he was about to speak. He didn’t.

“I-I’m sorry,” She started in a wavering voice, pulling her legs up and pushing herself further up the bed, “I don’t- I wasn’t- I-” She stuttered as she tried desperately to piece together some sort of explanation. She couldn’t even begin to lie her way out of this, in any sense of the word. He definitely heard her moaning his name barely a few hours after he told her it. Saw her pleasuring herself at the thought of him. God this was the day-

Movement tore her terrified gaze from his face, looking to see what he was going to do to her. His hand froze when she looked at it, fingers outstretched and reaching. She looked back to his face. His brows furrowed, thinking for a moment before he sat back on the leg kneeling on her bed. More staring. His lips pursed a few times like he was deeply considering something. Hell, her heart was hammering so loudly in her ears, she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to hear him if he did choose to speak.

His hand moved again, slower this time, not pausing or hesitating even as she followed it. His calloused fingertips brushed her ankle, taking the same slow pace to slide his full palm up the outside of her calf. He definitely saw the goosebumps that raised on her skin. He definitely heard the trembling breath she let out. But she didn’t stop him. His hand came to rest on her knee. He shifted his position and did the same to her other leg. He leaned in close, hunched over as he caught her eye. Lips pressed to one of her knees, a shiver running up her spine. He repeated the act to her other knee. He watched her face the entire time, actions measured and patient.

“Wh..?” She barely breathed out, unable to finish the word much less her full question. She might pass out. Was this real? Was this the Doom Slayer before her treating her with such affection? Or was this another side of Flynn she was about to become very quickly acquainted with? Her head spun at the thought.

A huff left his nose as his chin rested upon her knees. He looked over her, eyes lingering where her nipples poked up from under his shirt. Eventually he caught sight of something and held out his hand towards it. He looked between her face and it a few times until she got the idea. Her hand. She mindlessly reached out her hand, more than willing to do whatever he wanted to figure out what he was doing. Until realization kicked in. That was the hand that was just in her shorts. She tried to snatch her hand back but it was too late. His firm grip brought her hand closer. And closer. And closer still til it was right in front of his face. He closed his eyes, pressing her hand against his face and inhaled.

Fuck. If her face wasn’t red before, it sure was now.

A low rumbling hum came from him. Another inhale and he shifted the way he sat. The movement dragged her eyes from the erotic scene, low to his hips and- oh, God, he was hard. The outline of it strained the old shorts he wore and, fuck, it looked like it was gettnig bigger. Just when she thought her brain couldn’t take anymore, a feeling of wetness had her wide-eyed stare tearing from his hips. His tongue laid flat against her fingers. She gasped at the sight. His eyes opened slowly, like remembering she was attached to the hand. He held her gaze as he pushed his tongue between her middle and ring finger.

“Flynn,” Her voice wavered in a plea. Begging for something only he could give her. His tongue withdrew, licking his lips one again, before dropping his hold on her hand. He pressed forward, one hand sliding between her knees. She let them fall apart, him immediately moving between them like he was meant to be there.

His forehead pressed against hers, observing her every little reaction as his hand palmed up her outer thigh. This time he really was seeing right through her. She let out a quiet moan at the squeeze he gave her hip. She tried to close her eyes to avoid his burning stare and bite her lip to stifle her noises. It didn’t help. She could still feel his stare as much as his hands on her. His nose bumped hers, drawing her full attention back to him.

He sat back once more, just looking at her for a moment. Considering. His face turned away towards her door. A look crossed his profile that had her stomach twisting. Hesitation.

“Please,” his head snapped back to her, “Please, Flynn, I want… I want you,” Her hands ran up his forearms, stopping on the swell of muscle just below his elbow. He leaned forward suddenly, eyes blazingly intense and boring into hers. An eyebrow raised and his head turned. Say it again. He needed to know it's what she wanted, that this wasn’t some cruel fantasy. “I want you,” She all but whined out in response, “I want you Flynn, please!”

Green Light.

Fingers hooked in the old boxers at her hips and dragged the soaked things off her body. He followed, lips pressing against her still clothed torso as he moved lower and lower. A hand pushed the shirt up, allowing his lips to touch the skin of her stomach. His teeth nipped along the soft flesh, paying special attention to the area just below her navel before sinking lower. Soft hair brushed the inside of her shivering thighs. Hot breath caressed against the wetness that coated her. His eyes burned as he finally looked back up to her. Dark and wild and so full of hunger she couldn’t stop her whimper. Thumbs dug into her hips as he pulled her where he wanted her. His head dipped.

“Flynn!” A gasping moan of his name and a hand went to his head. He licked just the outside to start, tongue barely dipping into her entrance to pull some of that slick wetness back up. His tongue curled and dug into the crease of flesh around her clit to circle the already overstimulated bundle of nerves. A thigh pressed against one side of his head, the other held down with a calloused hand. A hum escaped him as her nails scratched his scalp and her fingers pulled his hair.

She was having trouble seeing at this point, her vision spotting white hot with his methodical tongue and her heart beating so loud it deafened her. She would swear that he could probably feel her heartbeat down there with how it hammered in her very veins. All there was left was feeling. His hair, his stubble, his hands, his breath, his tongue- it was too much. But still not enough. Her mind brought back the image of the tent in his pants. She wanted that. She wanted him. She wanted everything her fantasies promised and more.

“O-oh, fuck,” She stuttered as his tongue pressed into her fluttering entreance. It felt cool against the scorching heat of her inside. It went in, curled, and pulled out several times before his face pressed in harder against her. His efforts doubled, alternating between fucking her with his tongue, lapping the slick from her before it even had a chance to escape her, and teasing her clit. All with just his mouth. Time meant nothing as she begged and gasped, clenched and dripped under his eager work.

Something pressing against her lips dragged her partway from the blinding haze of pleasure. Cracking an eye open, it was his fingers pushing against her lips. His ring and middle finger pushed together, his index and pinkie crooked away.

Oh, fuck yes.

She took the digits in eagerly, tongue lathing his rough calluses and lips closing around them to suck. She drooled on the damn things as they split and played with her tongue and brushed along her teeth. His mouth didn’t let up either, his own tongue and lips sealing to suck her clit and drag the flat of his tongue against her at the same time. The moan it dragged out of her was purely pornographic; a choked sob muffled by his big fingers in her mouth. She was close. So, so close, so much quicker than anything she’d achieved on her own.

Like he read her mind he pulled away. Another almost sob escaped her as both his face and fingers left her. He pulled himself back up so he could see her. And she could see him. The lower half of his face was covered in gleaming slick from her. His pupils were blown wide making his already dark eyes even darker. He licked the corner of his mouth, reveling in her taste as his gaze devoured what his mouth hadn’t.

“More,” She whispered after a moment, “Please, I was so close.” A quirk of his lips and a flash of teeth rewarded her. He knew. He knew she’d been close. His head dipped to press a kiss to her cheek, smearing her own juices on her. Instead of lavishing her again with his ironic oral skills, he settled in at her side, pulling her close. The very obvious, and much larger, bulge in his shorts pressed against her thigh. It was hot, practically burning against her. And the weight of it.

The hand she prepped for him had her jumping a little in surprise as he slid the wet digits between her thighs. Any tension they held over her denied orgasm was gone in an instant, spreading wider for him. His head was laid against hers as his fingers finally glid through the slick around her entrance. A moan rewarded his teasing, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned her head towards him.

He started with one finger, the middle pressing in and pushing as far as it’d go. He glanced back at her, curling his finger just so to crook against the spongy flesh behind her pelvic bone. A moan warbled from her, ebbing into a broken hum as he pulled the finger almost all the way out. Back in again and he aimed again for that spot. More moans that breathed hot against his ear rewarded him. He forced himself to work slowly, stroking against her squeezing walls and internally losing it at the way they practically sucked his finger back in. When she felt ready enough, he slid his ring finger in, carefully spreading and opening her with his fingers.

“Yes! Oh- God,” She breathed, “Bigger than mine-! Feels so good, Flynn-” His hand jerked in response to her admittance and praise. He wanted more of that. He curled his fingers, pressing hard into her to shove against that spot inside her. More moans fell from her, their pitch raising as he picked up the pace. Her legs twitched once he began rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb, amplifying her reactions.

The molten pleasure that’d been building for weeks stretched across her body. His fingers pulled it tighter, stoked it hotter. A blazing fire across her very being that threatened to consume her wholly in its explosion. A fire that burned for Him.

“Please! Flynn, Flynn!” Her cries were reaching their peak, his name falling like a mantra from her mouth. He could feel her twitching inside around him. She was going to cum on his fingers, only from his fingers. “Flynn-!” She screamed for him. Her body arched as the white hot band inside her snapped. Her thighs shook and tried to press together. He didn’t let them. His hand stayed, fucking her all the way through her convulsions. The obscene noises they made as he pushed her into overstimulation had her ears burning.

“T-too much,” She finally whimpered, head lolling back and forth. He pulled them out with another lewd sound that echoed in her mind. A strand of her release connected him to her pussy long enough for her to bear witness before it snapped. His fingers came to his face, eyes catching hers as he licked the clean. The way his eyes rolled and his eyelids fluttered was going to haunt her when he wasn’t there. Looked like he was enjoying the taste of her like some kind of rare dish- like ambrosia if dead legends were to be believed. She stared when he removed his fingers to wipe on his old shirt. Though not at the new stain, but at the way his lips still held a sheen to them.

“Flynn,” She whispered. His brow raised in a lazy response, “It must hurt.” His brows furrowed only for a moment before they shot up in surprise. Her thigh pressed between his legs, rubbing against the aching hardness there. A wide-eyed grunt rewarded her, his hand flying down in an attempt to stop her. Another call of his name and she closed the distance between their lips. He was all too eager to kiss back, her thigh forgotten to instead cup her face and let her taste herself.

He groaned as she slipped his top lip between her teeth with a nip. Her thigh began grinding against him again, his jaw falling slack as she slipped her own tongue into his mouth. Only briefly, too brief in his opinion. She moved her lips across him, his cheek, his chin, the underside of his jaw, his throat. Anywhere she could get her lips she took to memory the map of his skin. Take every piece of him to memory that she could so she never had to rely on fantasy again.

“I want it,” She whispered, teeth catching to tug on his earlobe, “I want you. Please, fuck me, Flynn.” Her hot breath sent shivers down his spine as his hips jerked against her thigh. After a moment his hips stilled and a sigh left him. He grunted before rolling away to sit on the edge of her bed. For a moment she feared he was about to leave her. Instead his shirt was yanked over his head, the garment thrown somewhere towards the door. His shorts joined them without any more preamble. When he turned back, she couldn’t stop herself from dragging her eyes over his body. Not like she'd want to.

He was the Doom Slayer; A force of will and power to be reckoned with. He brought Demons to heel and taught them what true terror was. His body reflected his ongoing war. His skin was torn and scarred, pale and dark marks alike criss crossing his limbs. Muscle moved just beneath his skin, rippling with a power she lacked words to ever begin to describe. The dark hair across his chest led her gaze south, right to where it needed to be.

“Oh yes,” She hissed under her breath. Well sized in all manners of speaking, he was fully hard and already leaking precum. It’d be a stretch more than his fingers but a good thing he did start with that. She was sure he’d at least touch her cervix. God she hoped she could feel him that deep. A huff left him with a corner of his mouth turning upwards. Smug. He had every right to be. She’d feign shock about it later. Right now, her only focus was on how much she wanted his cock pushing into her.

“Hurry,” She moved her legs, inviting him back between them. He didn’t need to be told twice, carefully crawling over her on the bed til he knelt between her legs once again. Big hands dragged her hips to rest on his thighs, pussy flush with the underside of his cock. His hips rolled once, simply testing the feel of her. His cock slid through the abundant wetness, the sticky sounds and the way she felt herself clench around nothing making her ears burn. His thumb pressed himself more firmly against her, bucking friction into her clit. He was teasing her, watching her squirm with every thrust. A pitiful, gasping whine and he deemed it enough. Wet enough, prepared enough, ready enough. He needed her now.

He leaned over one last time, forehead pressing to hers, and began the push. Slow and controlled, but stretching her past anything she’d known for a long while. Her nails raked across his shoulders as the ache set in. She could feel every millimeter of the push, every bit of his cock parting her walls. He watched her through it, even as his eyes threatened to close so he could drown in the sensation. Kisses peppered across her face as his thumb stroked her cheek in an attempt to soothe her. Words of encouragement, like all others he tried, died on his tongue.

The last space between them closed, his hips pushing against her to make sure he was fully seated inside her. It elicited a moan from her as his tip kissed her cervix. She was right, god, she was right! She felt so full, stretched as far as it felt like she could go with him. All of him. When she finally opened her eyes, he was staring right back at her. Watching. Always watching over her. Her head tilted to catch his lips. He gave in, eyes finally closing with a breath that sighed out from his nose.

This time, the kiss shared was slower. No teeth, little tongue, just basking in one another as she adjusted to his girth. Her hand released its claw-like grip on his back, a finger dragging along his nape and up the back of his neck before her fingers slipped into his hair to cradle his head. He shivered, desperately grasping at his control as she gently scraped along his scalp like she had so many times before. He couldn’t help the small thrust that broke through his concentration at a slightly rough tug she gave his hair.

Her gasp broke their kiss, her walls clenching down on him. He couldn’t stop the groan that tumbled from his lips, barely reigning himself in. His hips would hold steady until she could tell him she was ready, tell him she wanted him to move. He kissed her cheek as an apology. Her shifting hips caught him by surprise, another noise hissing through clenched teeth as his jaw tightened. He wouldn’t move. Not yet. He wasn’t about to hurt her chasing his own pleasure.

“Mm, Flynn,” She hummed out, his eyes finally opening to see her. Face flushed, brows upturned, lips swollen and parted. Anything she asked- “I’m alright. You can move now. Please.” - he would do. A shaking breath left him as her only warning. His hips pulled back, cock dragging along every nerve inside her. It felt like she was trying to keep him there with how tight she was.

He only got halfway out before giving a quick, hard thrust back into her. His hips smacked into her own, the sound echoing in the small room alongside the cry she let out. Her hands scrambled to find purchase on his shoulders as he did it again. And again and again. Every thrust with the sole purpose of aiming for her pleasure. Gradually he built to a quicker pace until she was bouncing from his efforts and her head pressed back into the mattress. His eyes never left her face, watching every change in expression and listening to every sound she uttered. And below, he felt every ripple and tense of her around him.

Gasps of his name were about the only coherent sounds she could get out as he fucked the brains out of her. She could feel his cock inside of her, every movement in and out and in and out. Feel how his hips changed and the head began pounding against the same spot his fingers abused earlier. Her mind blanked out of any higher thought at the feeling. It felt good. He felt so fucking good. He should know that. It took a few tries before she could pull together the words.

“Good! Feels- ah! Feels good! You- so good!” She gasped and moaned to him. She felt him nod as another of his deep rumbling groans passed over her in response. His hips stuttered in their controlled pace, a harsh, bruising thrust rammed his cock right into the spot that had her vision spotting white and her moan choking out halfway. His lips were on her cheeks in an instant, apologizing. She didn’t want apologies, she wanted him to do it again.

Her hand fell from his back, tracing along the lines of muscle from his shoulder down to his clenched fist. She attempted to pry open his hand. She didn’t, and wouldn’t ever, succeed but he got the idea. He laced their fingers together, holding her hand lightly. She held tighter as she began to beg.

“H-harder-” His head knocked lightly against hers, her eyes opening to find a narrowed pair almost glaring back at her. He shook his head. A pit opened up in her chest, “I can take it, i swear, please,” She might just cry if he stopped now but she wanted all of him. His pace slowed but he didn’t pull away. Conflict warred across his face, looking aside as he considered. He slowed enough that some of her brain cells could float back to her.

“I can tell you if it’s too much,” Her voice was breathy and a little hoarse now, “I can take it. I can take you.” Her legs tightened, pulling herself to meet his thrust halfway, “I think I’ve proven myself so far.” His eyelids fluttered, another sound leaving him. His head hung, shaking it once more before looking back to her. His brows furrowed and his mouth quirked. She was about to start begging again. His hand squeezed hers, subtle but effective enough to quiet her for a moment longer.

His hips pulled back with a deliberate pace. His hand gripping hers, eyes holding her with such intensity it made her want to squirm. His knees widened their stance, pushing her thighs even wider. He pulled himself out further than before, his cock almost slipping out of her despite her body's best efforts. That's when he snapped his hips forward. The contact stung her ass and thighs, the resulting slap obscenely loud. Her body moved with the force, the feeling radiating from her cunt through her whole being. Eyes rolled back as his name fell from her lips like a prayer. That’s what she was asking for. But he was only testing the waters, seeing for himself what she could take.

“Again,” She pleaded. He hesitated only a moment before fulfilling her wish. Her moans spurned him on, encouraging him to properly ram into her. Her hips and thighs were going to be bruised to hell but fuck did it feel good. He varied his rhythm, some short and aiming directly against that soft spot just inside her, some so deep and hard it felt like he was in her guts. A cadence only he knew, but seemed determined to teach her body before he was done.

He had started panting sometime, hot breath washing against her damp skin. His eyes left her face, following a bead of sweat that ran down her throat. He didn’t stop himself this time, tongue running against her skin like it had her pussy and tasting it just the same. The pleasure of her was definitely doing things to his head, every taste of her seeming divine in the most animalistic sense. And she was taking him so well, all his cock and tongue and fingers he’d given her. She wasn’t leaving that bed until he made sure she couldn’t walk.

Her cries started cresting with the same urgent need as they had earlier. He could feel it too in the way it felt like she was already trying to wring him dry. He’d give her all of it. His end was building just as fast, the week long knots pulled to full tension and almost ready to snap. His thighs shivered from the feeling, his hips breaking pace. He needed to feel her cum around him first. He needed to hear as she came again. All for him and only him. His sweaty face pressed into the sheets beside her head, desperately trying to hold out.

She was so close. The same tension he worked out with his fingers earlier reached toward the same brink. His ragged grunting directly beside her ear sent shocks through her. He was close too. The thought sent her body clawing for it. Just a little more and she’d be there.

“Flynn,” A hard thrust cut her voice, “Close, so close, just a little more. Please, please-!” His pace picked up a final time, hips hammering against hers, so focused on hitting just the right angle that made her tighten around him. No more rhythm, just desperate speed and force, praying for her orgasm. She begged louder, cheek pressing against his and directing her pleas directly into his ear. There wasn’t time. He wasn’t going to last. His head tilted just enough that his lips could find the shell of her ear.

“Cum.”

The air rushed out of her as her orgasm ripped through her at his command. It tore through her nerves, shaking her apart in blinding pleasure that she’d later vaguely recall praising him through. Her body bounced with two more hard jerks of his hips before a moan, a proper moan, left him and his cock slammed fully into her. She could feel his cum inside of her, filling her and somehow seeping out around his cock. It was the only thing her mind registered as she came down from what was probably the best orgasm of her life.

Flynn was still practically shaking from his own release. It hadn’t felt that good in the past. Granted, he couldn’t remember the last time he actually had sex, but this had nothing on those hazy memories. His arm moved to pull her against him fully, his nose pressing against her throat and practically smelling their sex on her skin. If only this was his purpose instead. Lying here, basking in her pleasure day in and day out. Unfortunately, slaying pussy didn’t defeat demons. If only it did.

He was the first to move after a long moment. His head raised to check on her and check her over. Her eyes were still closed, breathing slowed but he could hear her heart still fluttering. His hand untangled from her own, raising to cup her cheek and softly brush along the skin there. Her eyes opened at his touch, a fucked out haze of satisfaction in them as they rolled to meet his face. He caused that. He gave her that look.

“That,” Her voice was rough from strain as she finally spoke, “That felt amazing.” The hand that likely scratched him up more than the demons ever could slid into his hair, fingers massaging through the locks. He sighed out a hum, kissing the bridge of her nose before pressing the tip of his nose to hers and rubbing back and forth. Lovesick is how his heart described her sigh at his actions.

“You are unfairly sweet, do you know that?” A smile on her face and amusement in her voice. But a sparkle held in her eyes that had his heart squeezing. She was loving this, enjoying his attention. Wanted it, even. And he wanted hers as long as he could have it. First though, he decided now would be a good time to pull out. A groan left him as he left her warmth, a similar whine leaving her lips. What hadn’t already escaped during his orgasm, spilled out of her and dripped onto the sheets. His eyes narrowed like his own seed betrayed him, taking two fingers to scoop it up and push it back into her. It should stay right where it belongs.

“Unless you’re hyperfertile, that isn’t going to work,” She spoke shakily, a moan coming from her on another push of his fingers. His eyes snapped back up to her, brows raising in surprise. He hadn’t been thinking when he did it. Not really thinking anyway. The thought of her getting pregnant with his child… He shut down that line of thought immediately. In the meantime, her face had heated up significantly at the eyes peering at her from under a heavy brow. Like he thought she was weird or something-

“S-sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed-” Hands grabbed her hips, “Woah!”

She was flipped onto her front, a rough hand smoothing down her back under the shirt. Her shoulders were pushed down, his heavy hand coming to rest on the nape of her neck. Not his full weight, but enough to keep her there, hold her there like he was cradling her shoulders with a single palm. His other hand pulled her hips up to meet his. He was still hard. She could feel it as he rutted against her entrance, still spread and leaking. She could take him all night.

“I can go for a second round,” she rasped, head turning to the side so she didn’t suffocate against the mattress. A hum answered her as he pulled away, lining himself up to go back to fucking her brains out.

“But,” He froze, tip against her opening and seconds away from plunging back into her, “I wanna be on top- Want to ride you.” He caught her eye. She was looking at him as best she could from the corner of her eye. She was serious, a desperation in her eyes, “Please,” She croaked. How could he say no? His hands slid down her body as he sat back on his knees. She rose to a seating position slowly. A groan left her lips as she stretched her spine, arms reaching far over her head and his shirt still covering most of her body.

He was about to tear the damn thing off to let him see her properly when she must have read his mind. His shirt was pulled over her head and discarded somewhere in the room. His eyes raked across her body hungrily, burning the sight of her skin into his mind. Until he reached her hips. Her ass and the back of her thighs were flushed from his efforts. Probably going to bruise later.

“Hey,” Her voice called softly. She turned so she was in front of him, kneeling on the mattress like he was. “You alright?” Her softer hand coupled his cheek like he had hers earlier. His hand covered hers, pressing his face into her palm and kissing the skin there. Her heart melted at the sight. Even more so as his big brown eyes trailed over her body with obvious concern.

“I’m fine, Flynn. I’m a big girl, I would tell you if it was too much,” her head moved to catch his gaze as he stubbornly looked away, like he’d done to her so many times. “I promise.” He searched her face. What was worse, he wondered. The fact she trusted him so much despite knowing what he could and did do to demons? Or the realization he wanted to bruise her, mark her up so he was still there with her when he was gone? A last, heavy sigh and he nodded.

“Good boy,” Fuck the things she did to him- “Lay down big guy. It’s my turn.” Her smile turned impish at his immediate reaction. He’d never followed an order so quickly in his life. The bed wasn’t quite big enough for him, having to bend his knees to keep his heels on the bed. He’d slept in worse conditions in bootcamp, but he also hadn’t had a partner straddling his hips like he did now. The slight grimace that appeared on her face as she slung a thigh over him told him she was already feeling the abuse from his onslaught to please her. The look on her face at seeing his dick under her though kept him quiet.

One of her hands braced on his hip, the other taking a gentle hold on him to line him up with her still dripping cunt. His hands slid up her thighs, giving the flesh of her hips a reassuring squeeze as she paused. She hummed before beginning her descent. The head of his cock pushed past the first ring of muscle around her entrance, a moan escaping her at the same time a groan left him. Less time than he’d taken, aided by their mixed fluids and his thorough work earlier, and she was seated flush against him. Shaky pants left her as she held herself up on shivering arms. A hand lifted her chin, concern and desire mixed across his face.

“Hah, I’m- I’m alright.You just- mmh, feels good. So full,” She breathed with a smile. A small smirk broke his concern, his heels digging into the bed to bounce her on his cock just once. She moaned aloud, jaw falling slack. He was so deep She could feel his tip not just sitting at her cervix, but pushing against it. Her thighs were already shaking yet she still wanted to ride him? The demons couldn’t tear her from him now if they tried. “Smug.” She chided without an ounce of bite as her last coherent sentence.

Her hand took his that’d been on her chin, lacing their fingers together once again. His hand nearly swallowed hers with the difference in size. His bulky fingers were a bit crooked and covered in scars from who knows how many years of battle. She’d take the time later to count them all, lay praise on each and every one and lavish him with her appreciation. He deserved every bit of it. She used his strength as leverage to help pull herself up on his length.

On quivering legs she raised herself. The drag of his cock against her walls made her whimper pitifully. She was clenching down, pussy desperate to keep him inside. Almost as desperate as he was. His hips buckled at only the halfway mark to chase her wet heat.

“N-no,” Her stuttered moan had him freezing in place once again, hand tightening on hers and wide eyes staring with rapt attention. “I want to ride you,” She felt him twitch inside of her as she tried her best to squint at him, “Don’t move.” He nodded hesitantly, swallowing harshly enough that she heard it.

She began again, slowly lifting her hips and letting him drag out of her. She went along his full length until the head threatened to pop out. She paused a moment, taking in his heated stare looking between his cock and her. Like he was the one begging now. She could feel the muscle at his hips tensing. Like he was going to snap. Her hips sunk on him before he got the opportunity, the entirety of him disappearing back into her cunt. A groan rumbled out of him, cut off by a gasp as she repeated the action. She fucked herself on him, that deep voice all around her.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. As much as he wanted to let them roll back and just enjoy the ride, he wanted to see her. Her body on his, his cock slathered with their combined releases, her tits bouncing with every heft of her hips. He wanted it burned into his mind, burned into his very nerves so he wouldn’t ever forget. How long had it been since he had a partner? How long since they fucked him this enthusiastically? His gaze dragged south from the picture of ecstasy that was her face. He watched his cock disappear in her over and over again, felt it butting against her cervix and pushing out his cum to slide between them. He could do more for her. He may not be able to move his hips, but…

The hand on her hip moved, rough palm dragging across her stomach and down below her navel. He glanced to her face as his thumb brushed her clit. Her eyes flew open, a strangled half moan leaving her at his touch. Her hips canted to buck against the added friction. Every push and her walls pulsed around him. He pushed against her stomach on the next drop, feeling his cock push through her. She barely got up on the next raise before her hips smacked back down onto him. She tried to stifle her moans, the sounds coming out muffled before escaping her anyway.

“Flynn- oh god-” she gasped in broken praises as her thighs shivered. Her hips began to falter between his added touches and her body’s fatigue. She had to start focusing on her movement as the pleasure built. Her hand left his to mirror on the other side of his hip, resting more of her weight there to pull herself up and down on him. Even that couldn’t prevent the break in rhythm as the strain made her legs start going numb. Whimpers of frustration slipped out between pants and moans, her head falling and brows pinching together.

Pitiful.

She was sobbing out half-choked moans as she tried moving her hips, the exhaustion and his earlier abuse finally taking its toll on her. Her legs were soon too weak and cramped to even begin to move herself on him. All she could do was rock against his thumb, this cock fully sheathed and stretching her out. Her short nails scratched at his abdomen in desperation, her wetness preventing her from getting enough friction against his hand. Her lips quivered as she pleaded.

“Please-! Please!”

His rope was fraying at the sight and feeling of her. He could see the way her muscles pulled and vibrated with attempted effort. But she told him to stay, to hold still and let her ride him. Sit back and enjoy the show. Fuck the show. He could do better. He could fuck her properly, give her all the pleasure she craved. He could do it all for her, whatever she wanted of him. He had the energy and the stamina to go on for as long as she liked. He could make her stupid with his mouth alone, he knew he could. But she wanted him to stay.

His teeth creaked as his jaw clenched, holding tight as he could to that rope. Using every last bit of self control he had to do as she asked. Do what she wanted. His selfish need had no place at the moment. Only her. A sharp breath hissed between his teeth as she shivered, thighs tensing uselessly beside his hips. Now, her body, the clear desire in it, was more than enough to convey what she wanted. What he knew she needed. But her face when she finally lifted her head to see him?

Brows upturned, eyes rimmed red and glassy with unshed tears. Her lips quivered as they parted, so close to crying as her hips continued to roll desperately.

“Please, Flynn.”

His control snapped. A hand grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her down before taking hold where hip and thigh connected. His other hand mirrored it, holding her up as his heels dug into the bed. He plowed into her, every plunge half-aimed at that just right angle he knew she needed. Her moans of relief and pure pleasure filled his ears as he picked up her slack. It wasn’t her fault. But it was his he disobeyed. His lips dragged against the side of her face and her ear in messy half kisses to apologize, every sinking thrust of his cock into her punctuated by a pant brushing against her skin.

Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

Sweet pleasure rocked through her at every thrust, her body falling limp against his as he gave her exactly what she wanted. His body heat burned, sweat making her body slide against his with every jerking plunge into her pussy. She held on as best she could, short nails digging into his shoulders and her face pressing against his neck. She could smell the salt of his sweat but also something so Him that she had smelled on his clothes and in his quarters. He was everywhere in her now, her moans almost feeling like they too were his as she felt his vibrate out of his chest. She couldn’t do anything but take everything he gave her- fuck her how he wanted. And that’s all she’d wanted.

“C-Close-!” She stuttered, trying to find his ear so he’d hear her. So he’d hear her beg for it, “P-lease, Flynn, in- in me. In me!” Her whimpers were heard, his head nodding and another moan rumbling out from under her. His hips thrust more urgently, aim dead on jackhammering against that spot inside her. Moans sobbed out of her, volume tearing at her throat. He didn’t understand what he was doing to her- She gathered her strength to pull herself up, hands dragging to bring him to look at her. A few hot tears streaked won her face making his pace stutter.

“Feels so- so good, Flynn. Never fe- Mmh! Felt this good! Don’t stop,” She was babbling, she could barely recognize it but she knew it. A certain set of words were right on the tip of her tongue, threatening to drip like honey from her lips. A very terrifying set of words. Before their sweetness could spill over, she kissed him. He continued to moan against and between her lips, silence gone in favor of lavishing her with her new favorite sounds. A particularly rough smack of his hips broke her attempt at shutting her mouth.

A gasp and she was back to looking into those brown eyes. Dark and so deeply hungry. Insatiable. So much promise and want all for her. A thousand words unsaid, and somehow she could see them all. But there was something more there that had her heart hammering harder. The pure, raw emotion in his eyes had her fraying before she even realized it.

His pace became sloppy as her walls fluttered and spasmed around his cock again. He could see it this time- he watched her come undone. Her eyes unfocused, rolling back before shutting tight, mouth working with her sounds, and spent body tensing with the last of its strength. So close. So close. He could do it. He’d bring her there. He’d drag her over the edge. Two more pumps and he angled his hips so his abdominal muscles would grind up against her clit.

She was done. All the tension flooded her face as she trembled. Her pussy once again like a vice, contracting and flexing around him like it was trying to get everything it could from him. He’d give it to her. He pulled her down hard on him, his hips pushing flush against her in an attempt to keep every drop of his cum inside as his orgasm shattered though him. He was pretty sure he was saying something. Praying maybe. Begging even, pleading. To whom he didn’t know. He hoped it was to her.

She dropped onto him the instant her body had the opportunity. Spent and fucked into numb satisfaction. She tried to catch her breath, his heart thundering under her ear as she laid on him. His own breathing was ragged and heavy. That didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around her waist and shoulders, holding her firmly against him as he recovered. It felt safe. He felt safe. Like the siege of Hell never happened. Like this was where she was meant to be the entire time.

She was never leaving his side now, not if she had any say in it.

It took more than she expected to lift her head, her arm coming to help prop it up so she could see him properly. One of his eyes opened like he could feel her stare. The other joined it like he’d needed to check his instincts. His gaze was more relaxed now, less tired than usual. The typical crease between his brows was eased significantly. She dragged a hand to his face, pushing his hair from where it’d gotten plastered to his forehead with sweat. He hummed, eyes sliding closed with a very contented sigh.

“Feel good for you too?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper as she smiled at him. A firm nod answered her question. Good. She watched him a while longer, eyes tracing his face before landing on his lips. She tried to shimmy up his body to kiss him again. His arms tightened the moment she tried to even twitch. A lower hum as a warning as his eyes cracked open to squint at her.

“I wanted a kiss…” She pouted, staring longingly at his pink and slightly swollen lips. His expression softened in an instant, body tensing under her as he pulled himself up to close the distance. Soft, slow, lazy like. Satisfied on a bone deep level. Gratitude given and taken. So much unsaid though it came though crystal clear as though the words had been spoken aloud. Even those words she knew she’d been so close to saying threatened to spill over here. Now wasn’t the time for them. Those silly, complicated things.

Her nails scratched through the hair on his chest, tracing invisible shapes as she went. Fingers pressed into the firm flesh of his chest, dragging and pulling sighs from him. One of his hands caught hers mid-squiggle. It enveloped her smaller one, holding it lightly as his thumb brushed over the skin of her knuckles.

“You’re too sweet, Darlin’.” She whispered, feeling his heart beat harder at the slipped pet name.

“Can’t help it.”

Her head reared back, eyes wide with surprise like he hadn’t just screamed her name when he came. He flushed adorably at her sudden rapt attention. That was the third- or so- time now that he’d spoken to her. Such a deep, grumbling voice that dragged through her deliciously. She wanted to hear more of it from him. If he was feeling up to it. For now though,

“Sweetheart,” She melted, “I didn’t say to stop.” a smile curled on her lips, his face turning red and burning with a flush that crawled its way up to his ears. Still grinning lips found his neck, trailing to follow his jawline and up his cheek as far as she could reach. One of these days. One of these days, she was going to eat him alive. Her teeth nipped at the skin before a gasp hissed through them.

“Fuh- fuck,” She stuttered the word out as her hips moved. The ache was finally setting back in and the feeling of sweat and combined fluids was starting to get to her. She needed to get cleaned up. She moved again. His arm about her waist tightened again, a frown pulling at her mouth as he finally looked back at her.

“Much as I want to stay here on top of you- and believe me, I do- I also want to get cleaned up.” A side of his mouth pulled and his head rolled, looking away from her. This time it was with a totally-not pout. He definitely didn’t huff out a sharp sigh like a stubborn stock horse either. A moment longer and he reluctantly released her from his hold. His arm slid from her but a hand remained on the small of her back, not willing to fully take his hands off her.

Triumphant, she sat up, groaning as the thrumming ache pulled across her body. And directly to her hips. Oh she was definitely going to be sore for the next few days. She was going to remember every time a muscle cramped or twinged just who caused it, the culprit none the wiser as he watched her stretch over him. She felt his stare rake over her body, hands coming to help massage and ease her muscles. She sighed, trying to guide his hands where she was most sore. The one that squeezed a feel of one of her tits not helping compared to its alter. But it was amusing seeing that certain lit in his eyes.

Her hands planted on his hips, pushing herself up with a gasp as he slid out of her. A grunt left him as the cool air hit his cock. She’d been so warm for him, so soft. He wanted to drag her back over and convince her to a third round. Just one more, no more than that. Just one more time of feeling her. One more time hearing her moaning his name. One more time making her fall apart all because of him. The way she stretched quieted those thoughts. Later… Maybe with his mouth all the way to the end next time. That’d save her hips.

A yelp and a thud at the bedside interrupted his plans thoughts. His head snapped towards the noise, body turned and leaning over the bed.

“I, uh,” She spoke from her place on the floor, “I don’t think I can use my legs just yet.” She looked over her shoulder at him, embarrassment clear as day on her face. A snort of amusement, much against his attempts to stifle it, slipped out. Pride swelled his ego as he fulfilled one goal; She wasn’t leaving that bed until he made sure she couldn’t walk. He knelt on the cold metal flooring and gathered her in his arms. Carefully, like when he’d brought her back the first time. Now it was as a lover should. Her lover. He couldn’t stop himself from placing a kiss on her forehead at the thought before leaving the room she’d taken for herself.

The shower steamed with warm water, a metal stool pulled so she could sit just outside the spray. He sat on worn tile in front of her as she helped him wash up, her fingers massaging his scalp as she shampooed and rinsed his hair for him. He stood and attempted to do the same. His hands felt too large and clumsy to handle her in the delicate manner he felt she deserved. But he did his best. It was well worth it to have her smiling up at him, thanking him with a squeeze of his arm and a lingering tug at his fingers.

He had to pull away as his eyes traced the darkening marks on her hips. His markings. A pit welled in his chest as he took her in again. He hurt her. As much pleasure as he brought her, that he knew he brought, he still hated the fact he couldn’t control his strength with her. He hated even more the way the marks stirred something in him. His eyes dragged along her body, thinking about the fact she’d been masturbating to the thought of him. Now, she had a piece of him. His markings. Something to look at to remind her of tonight. Remind her that she didn’t need fantasy anymore. He was right here.

He took a soapy rag in his hands and kneeled before her. He lifted her calf, fingers loose around her ankle and heel as he kissed her shin. He would always be right here for her. The rag followed his slowly rising kisses, gently massaging cramped muscle along the way. She sighed at what his fingers could do. Any lonely nights she had he’d make her forget them upon his return. While here, he’d keep her as much company as she demanded of him. Anything so he could replace her fantasies with himself.

His eyes burned into hers as he ran the rag along her thighs, tracing back down her other leg. He was meticulous in scrubbing the rest of her body down, his lips touching her skin only mere moments before soap covered the spot. The heat of his touch wasn’t from the water either. She felt like when he first knelt on her bed. Prey. Something watched carefully should it try to run. She almost wanted to when he gently opened her thighs and his eyes snapped to way his devotion oozed from her. He glanced up once, hands pulling her hips to the edge of the stool before looking back down.

It was the last place he’d sullied. And he’d do it again- Later. Now she needed to rest. To recover. That didn’t mean he couldn’t liquify her brains again. She knew what was coming before he even moved, but she yelped all the same. His tongue licked though his own cum and her arousal, hands on her thighs trying to push them wider as he cleaned her out with his mouth. She tugged at his freshly washed hair with one hand as she keened, the other reaching for one of his. He met her, fingers lacing loosely over her thigh.

He took himself away from her only a few times to rid his own spend from his mouth before he was back on her with steady eagerness. He could feel how swollen her walls were. And yet they still welcomed his touch, still tightened as his tongue dipped further in. Her clit still sensitive as his nose brushed against it and made her thighs jump. A last dip and he traded his tongue for his fingers, moving his mouth to pay close attention to that sensitive bud that had her moans bouncing off the tile walls and floor.

Both ring and middle finger entered in at once with no resistance, spreading her wide and scooping out leftovers that seemed deeply buried in her. Where it should stay- He quieted the thought. Now wasn’t the time for him. Now was about her. The rough flat of his tongue dragged against her clit as he pulled another sticky glob from her pussy. Her pleasure. His tongue flicked against the bundle of nerves as he curled his fingers, a new wetness to them than when he first started. Her moans were getting louder, drowning out the sound of the water that continued to steam up the showers.

“Flynn! Oh god- oh god please- Flynn!” His name fell from her lips and fueled his motions. She begged him so much tonight and he wouldn’t fail to meet her demands this time either. He dipped his tongue to push in against his fingers, pulling some of what he knew by taste alone was her arousal up to aid in his ministrations. He’d commit her taste to memory. Her sounds. Burn her face- oh. He’d opened his eyes to look up at her. He knew that look now. He knew what it meant as her eyes squeezed shut. One more, come on. One more for me.

She shivered as his fingers fucked and curled inside her more intensely. As his lips and tongue, and teeth now, nipping and tugging gently at her flesh, worked where his fingers weren’t. He knew what he was doing. God how had she ever thought she could live without this. Her own hands had nothing on his practice. His name fell like a mantra now as her muscles tensed. An eye cracked open to see him, just a glance, just a small indulgence. Him staring so intensely with his tongue against her clit and his fingers dragging out of her wasn’t what she expected, but it was what pushed her over the edge.

His name was cried out as her fingers tightened where they held to his, her hips pushing against his mouth and hand. He kept at it with his fingers only until her twitching started to die down. The instant his fingers dragged out from her, his tongue reclaimed its place to finish cleaning her up, dragging against the entirety of her pussy until she weakly pushed at his head to signal he was pushing her too close to overstimulation. Same look on his face as earlier, a mouth and chin wet with her fluids before he wiped his mouth on his arm. He stood tall on his knees and held her face.

“Good girl.”

A shiver wracked through her at that while he kissed across her face in a form of continued praise. God his voice did things to her. He did things to her. She was pretty much mush-brained now, letting him love on her as she tried to come down. She didn’t even realize when he stood until his warm hands left her. She wanted him to come back, wrap her up in his arms and let her soak all that warmth up. Instead she stared at him, mostly his ass since it was eye height now, as he scrubbed himself down. It didn’t seem like a show, but it sure felt like one as she got to see every inch of scarred and muscled flesh on display.

He could feel her eyes as he washed up, taking a few peeks at her to be sure he wasn’t imagining the sensation. When was the last time someone looked at him like that? Besides the tired, fucked-out look on her face, he saw traces of her desire and longing in her eyes. And tender affection. Though the exact word he wanted to use felt odd and misshaped in his mind still. Doubts disguised as reason tried to claw their way into his current thoughts. He didn’t let them. Instead he focused on how much he wanted her to keep looking at him like that.

The water shut off when he was finished, a towel folded and wrapped about his hips and a towel tucked around her body before he lifted her up again and carried her back to her room. He carefully tuned out the mocking digital voice that echoed around the fortress.

“It’s about time you fucked her, Slayer. It was like watching two animals in heat walking around.” Samuel Hayden’s voice grated against Flynn’s nerves. Jealous maybe. Good. More of a reason for the man to be smug.

She, on the other hand, loathed the Doctor's onslaught of yapping. Her face felt hot as she pressed her nose against Flynn’s neck and grit her teeth as she waited for him to bring her back to her commandeered quarters. It was the only room with broken comms. No comms, no voices, no snooping. She hoped. At the very least it was quiet.

He carefully set her down in a chair, lips pressing to her forehead as he parted from her with a hand motion. Wait. So she did, with sleepy curiosity. He moved to her bed, beginning to strip the sheets and blankets. She was about to ask why before he snorted a huff of amusement and held the sheets up. Her face heated up at the stain spots that littered the fitted sheet. Guess they did make a bit of a mess.

“I’ll uh, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” She muttered, pointedly looking away. He really did work her out, didn’t he? She was pretty sure most of that was her, few spots of creamy white mixed in among the mostly dark marks. She’d find out tomorrow when she washed them. Hopefully though, this wouldn’t be the last time she scrubbed cum stains from her sheets. She looked back once she heard the sheets thump somewhere near the door. She watched him, just like she had in the showers, telling him where things were as he remade the bed.

He made her orgasm four times- Four on top of the couple she’d already worked out of herself earlier. Then again her own fingers had nothing on what he’d done to her. He had to know how good he was, right? He was confident, but did he know? He at least partly did as she recalled the praise she’d yammered out several times. But he needed to know. An idea popped into her head as he straightened up from the near military regulation bed. Everything tucked and orderly to the point she almost didn't want to mess it up. Almost.

He took her in his arms once more, placing her on the bed this time and kneeling beside her. His lips pressed from her shoulder to cheek as he slipped his fingers into the top fold of her towel. His skin was still heated, burning warmly against her skin. Oh she wanted to cuddle with him so badly.

“There's a t-shirt of yours and some undies in the dresser. Could I have them, please?” But it was still chilly in the fortress. If he really wanted to lay naked with her she wouldn’t necessarily object, but if he got up and left while she was still asleep she was going to freeze. And who knows when she’d be able to get up again? He pouted again, forehead resting on hers as his warm hands felt along her sides.

He gave in, ONLY because she asked so nicely. And her skin was quickly cooling beneath his hands. He pulled the towel from her, tossing the cloth to the pile with the soiled sheets. Her clothes were handed to her, his hand pulling back when she reached for them, an eyebrow raised. Need help? Of all the times for a miscommunication-

“Flynn, please?” She blinked up at him, body huddled against the cold, breasts pressed together and nipples hard from the chill. He wet his lips, handing her the clothes immediately without another thought. No thoughts other than grappling with his impending hard on. He reacquired a second pair of boxers from her stash and made sure he was turned away as he pulled them on. God, he wanted her again. Like he was 20 again and going out to a bar on shore leave. He’d been wild then, but he felt insatiable now.

“Hey, are you… Going to stay?” Her voice caught his ear, turning to look at her over his shoulder. Clothed in yet another set of his clothes and leaning back on the bed. Eyes pleading and lips pouting. “Please say you will.”

How could he ever, ever say no to her?

He nodded, turning slowly and approaching her bed. Still on the small side, but he’d make do. But she was staring at him. Her eyes trailing over his body. Ignore it. Willing both himself and her silently as he knelt on her bed for the second time. A hand on his chest stopped him. Her tongue licked her lips, the movement catching his eager eyes before she spoke again.

“Can I help?” She whispered, voice low as she leaned closer. Help? Help with wh- His mind tried very hard to ignore the connotations and play dumb even to him. But her hand slid lower, scratching through his thick hair and all the way to the waistband. He felt his cock react, practically trying to jump into her hand with how hard it twitched. A groan parted his lips that she kissed away, practically drinking in the noise that muffled against her.

“Tell me,” She demanded, her words brushing against his lips like a second kiss. He nodded, head pressing to hers and arm pulling her into his side. He wanted it. Her touch. Her hand. Her mouth. Whatever she wanted to give him he’d take. Seemed her hand was first up, reaching to push the waistband past his cock and let it spring out. Her fingers trailed along the underside, a hum leaving him as his eyes closed.

“You did such a good job with me tonight,” Her voice paired well with the way her fingers wrapped around his leaking tip. A sigh that could only be described as wanton left him at her words. Her hand started working its way down his shaft, dragging at a slow pace before going back to playing with his glans. “You’re so good,” Her lips found his ear as he leaned more heavily against her.

“Such a Good Boy.”

The moan that left him at that was utterly embarrassing. But he didn’t want her to stop, not when she kept whispering that praise in his ear and smearing his pre across his length. The hand not currently shaking on her waist fisted in the blankets. Her touch was like he’d imagined, softer than his, not quite big enough to wrap around him fully, but so definitely hers. His hips bucked against her touch, shallow thrusts against her still slow pace. He’d start begging if he needed to.

Putty in her hands- that’s what it felt like as he gasped and moaned against her. Though, much, much harder. Looking down at his cock, she wondered how the hell she took him. He was thicker than any she’d had in the past. Proportioned to his large stature and with a weight to match its girth. She had to wonder for a brief moment just how much blood was allowed to his head at this point with how flushed his cock tip was. The thought left as his lips pressed sloppy kisses against the side of her face and his gasps electrified her skin.

The grip on her waist changed when she finally, finally sped up. He’d leaked more than enough for her hand to glide along his length, squeezing and twisting to make sure she felt every bit of him. She paid special attention to his glans, rubbing along them with her finger as she passed over them. The sound of her actions had his ears burning, noises mimicking their earlier activities. So lost in the feel and sound, he jumped when her other, colder, hand reached below and groped his sack. It stopped the movement of his hips in their tracks. Another moan and more gasping her hands massaged both parts of him.

“Think you can cum one more time?” Her sudden question had his thighs shaking. He nodded quickly. “I thought so,” Her voice had an amused lit as she gently squeezed his balls, “They’re still so heavy.” Shit. She was going to get him in trouble talking like that, sounding so impressed. Sounding like she wanted his load in her rather than on her hands and the floor. She’d taken the other two, he’d clean her out just like last time. His breathing turned ragged as the memories replayed. How sweet she moaned, how she pleaded his name. How tight and wet-

“You’re close,” She breathed. He nodded again, something close to her name passing his lips. “Do it,” She demanded, her hand working quick around his glans and making his thighs tense. “Come on, Flynn,” Another ragged moan from his lips at his name, “I want to see you when you cum. Show me what you looked like when you fucked me full.” He was seeing white, the words she spoke, the very vivid scenes and feel of her as he did fuck her full not just a half hour ago.

The hand at her waist dipped low, pulling and pawing at her hip, shaking as he tried to regulate his strength. His knee managed to get under her thigh, pulling her half into his lap as his hips pushed against her hand. He needed her close for this, needed to feel her body heat, needed her. His lips trembled a final gasp of her name as she watched him spill over. She felt the way his whole body tensed, the way his cock jerked with every spurt of sticky cum that fell to the floor and dribbled down her fingers.

And his face. Twisted with pleasure, the crease between his brows eased upwards, mouth dropping open and moving in silent motions like mouthing a prayer never meant to be heard. The tired creases at the corner of his eyes softened, dark lashes fluttering as his eyes rolled in their sockets. Bliss. Ecstasy. Everything he deserved in his life of strife. Everything she wanted to give him. His head lolled to rest their foreheads together as the last of his high was drained from him. A grunt and his brows pinched momentarily before he could reach down and pull her hands from his finally softening member. Too much. The arm around her relaxed as his eyes finally opened, still half-lidded with post-orgasmic bliss.

It was just in time to see her bring her hand to her lips. Her tongue darted out, licking through some of his spend on the back of her hand. His mind conjured a mere thought. In her mouth next time. Next time. If she let him. He pulled one of the towels from the floor with his foot, dragging it along the old wood to sop up some of the mess there before cleaning her hand the rest of the way off. He tried to ignore the way she hesitated to let him take her hand.

When he was cleaned up and his boxers righted, she already scooted to the far side of the bed. When he met her gaze, her hand patted the remaining space in an open invitation. And he listened, crawling over all too eagerly. Again, the bed was too small, but with some gentle coaxing from his hands, he convinced her to turn over so he could pull her back flush against him. She fit perfectly as his little spoon. A big inhale with an equally long exhale made up his deep rumbling sigh reverberate against her. She giggled in his arms. He grunted in question.

“Satisfied?” She asked amusedly.

“Very.” He grumbled, chin tucking to kiss the back of her head and eyes closing to take in her warmth by touch alone.

“...Hey,” She whispered into the fresh quiet that blanketed the room like snow. He grunted again. “I-” Her words caught in her throat, hesitating to eek out the words she knew would be so dangerous. She sighed as she opted for something easier. For now.

“I appreciate you. A lot. I care about you, Flynn,” She spoke. One of her hands wiggled over to the one of his that currently hung off the bed. It slid against his, their fingers interlocking like they had several times already tonight. She heard him swallow before pulling her tighter against him.

“And I you,” He spoke quietly, her name following. He spoke so quietly, she thought she might have imagined the admission- had it not been for the natural rumble in his chest against her back. The tenderness in his tone sent her heart soaring in her chest and her face heating up at the emotion.

“I care more,” she mumbled, face turning to kiss the inside of his elbow. He snorted. The hand about her waist came up to grab her face, the entire lower half engulfed by his palm alone. She squeaked out a laugh from behind his hand before he rolled over, dragging her over him to the other side of the bed. His thigh was thrown over her and his body angled to pin her to the mattress while the hand on her mouth moved so he could put her in a light headlock.

It wasn’t an argument she was going to win, despite the way her laughter yanked at his heartstrings. She was laughing. Because of him. He could swear he was grinning against the back of her head.

“Okay, Okay! Hahaha- HA- St- Stop it-!” She shrieked when his fingers jabbed at her side and ribs, correctly guessing she was ticklish. She squirmed and wriggled in his hold as she futilely tried to escape his hold. He prodded her a bit more, savoring her laughter just a little while longer before finally relenting. Her ragged breathing huffed against his arm as she settled against him. He relaxed his hold, laying back onto his side and kissing her ear.

“I don’t think that was fair,” she mumbled, face turning to look at him with a smile. A single brow raised before he leaned over to press his lips to hers. Enough arguing. Slow, sweet, simple. Like he wished more things in his life were. But she was more than enough. She was everything to him now. Maybe one day he’d get the chance to tell her.

She broke away from the kiss first, turning away with a small yawn. A quiet shhh silenced her attempted apologies and he pulled her snug against him. She hummed, letting herself fully relax into him. He laid there as her breathing slowed and her warmth and comfort overwhelmed him. Even if he didn’t need to sleep, he let himself relax right down to the very edge of consciousness. Not asleep, but not fully awake either. Just aware of her and the barest knowledge of the passage of time.

Time didn’t need to matter here. Just her and him. The raging fire inside him quieted to a flickering flame- not out, but calm, ready to be stoked to a blazing and all consuming wildfire later. And later could wait. He had his duty. But for now it could wait. Wait and wait and wait until he felt it was enough. It wouldn’t ever be, not truly so long as hell's demons ravaged and ruined the remains of humanity. But for now, it could be.

#I wanna say more about how this is probably my favorite iteration of the slayer I've seen but also #brain scrampled egg #I will say one of my favorite bits is how it keeps him 80% mute #tbh I don't really see him as the chatty type #and to me actions are always louder #but also hhhhhh my guy stop being tender and soft and shit you're going to make me cream my pants #unless you like it #doom slayer #NSFW #doom slayer x reader

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bitebitesnap · 21 days ago

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can everyone reblog this and tell me who The Character is for you. like the one that you're obsessed with / hyperfixated on. mine is gojo

#dismas #he's just running around in my brain #earlier today it was submas

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bitebitesnap · 23 days ago

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I should have been writing or drawing or something but nope been doing fuck all today

#chewing stick #there's so much to be done but today was a 'I can't do shit' day

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bitebitesnap · 27 days ago

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There's about 2 people who like my Dismas content on the regular where are my Dismas fuckers I wanna yell at you

#on top of that wheres my Raziel gang #what group do I need to join to get into these circles #deranged screaming my beloved come to me for my fixations #chewing stick #dd highwayman #legacy of kain

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bitebitesnap · 1 month ago

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Author's Note: Hello everybody, it's been... a while... Listen all the things I've been working on are still getting worked on, promise. HOWEVER, I got a little inspired by Doom: The Dark Ages and this was the result. The beginning of a little series ooo she's doing multi-chapters now! Yes. Yes she is, so that hopefully I can grease the wheels for my bigger projects.

Title: All the Freedom We Can Hope For

Word Count: 5276

Relationship: the Doom Slayer/fem!Reader

TW/CW: Blood, Gore, Torture (physical & psychological)

The world fell out from under you. For a solid few seconds you had sworn you’d just died and almost accepted it too. Everything was weightless, an utterly blank void. It was not the worst afterlife, you supposed, given the unfortunate knowledge life had gifted you. Hell was real. Viscerally, terrifyingly, real. And in the name of survival you had signed up to tamper with it. UAC offered shockingly competitive rates for new hires, painted a pretty picture of life amidst the stars providing infinite energy for humanity’s future. Like many gullible, optimistic, fools before you, you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. In all honesty it hadn’t been horrible. Samuel Hayden was the genius he was made out to be. But he was also a ten foot tall, metallic, bastard of a man. As a menial cog in the machine though, you didn’t see him often and suffered his condescension even more rarely.

No, you were a humble lab tech, firmly beneath his and Olivia Pierce’s notice. You had been fresh meat to throw at old problems, things veteran staff were too smart and far too scared to do themselves. Things like fiddling with artifacts from literal Hell.

At first you had been thrilled to get a pay and prestige bump from the invite to shadow a Lazarus Lab researcher, one of the more personable senior staff even. Now you were fairly certain that if you ever saw your lovely boss again you would wring his neck and dance on his freshly-dug grave. Whatever demonic rock he’d had you blast with concentrated argent energy had caused a blinding flash of light that left you in the yawning void, but fate could never be content to leave your unlucky self so unbothered as that. The abyss had spat you through what felt like an inter-dimensional roller-coaster, gravity stretched and warped what felt like your very atoms, lights flashed and blurred past you at speeds you couldn’t possibly catch. Hellish red, sickly green, icy blue, they burned even through your eyelids as you clenched them and tumbled to god knew where. When you were thrown from a portal, it was into solid stone. Into what you’d learned was called Argent D’Nur, a planet populated by an ancient warrior race embroiled in a battle against Hell that had raged for centuries.

The Snetinels, as you'd learn they were called, pointed spears of pure energy at you and shouted in a language you didn’t understand. You had gracefully and promptly vomited your meager lunch onto the floor and fell unconscious. You awoke hours later in what seemed to be a medical facility of some kind, bound to a bed but unharmed even as they started to interrogate you. To say you were shocked they spoke English would have been the understatement of the century but you were informed that your unceremonious entrance had not been a first impression, it had been the second. You weren’t the only unlucky human hurled through time and space to Argent D’Nur. Once the Argenta had firmly determined you were no threat to them, they had been kind enough to inform you that another human had suffered the same fate as you many years ago. One they had simply deemed the Doom Slayer as he’d never given them a name to call him by. He didn’t sound human from what they told you, but the little flicker of hope in your chest just couldn’t let the idea go. Maybe you weren’t so alone after all. Maybe you could figure out a way to get home with him. Or at the very least have a companion to suffer with.

That former had not happened. The latter, on the other hand, took on an entirely different meaning.

It was rather slow-going learning the Argenta language but you’d become reasonably fluent, sharing knowledge of your home and history that the Slayer had not. Several of the Sentinels found it, and you, fascinating. Fascinating enough to tell their otherworldly patrons, the Maykrs, about the curious new visitor to their world.

Once again you felt as if you’d been suckered, but King Novik and commander Thira had been nothing but sincere to you, they couldn’t have known what they were walking you into. If they’d known what awaited you. If they’d known what awaited their former comrade, they’d have turned their guns on the Maykrs then and there. Of that you were certain. The Night Sentinels were honorable, proud, people, above something so duplicitous and cruel as lying to you for so long. Perhaps that was woefully naive to think but... They wouldn't. They wouldn't have walked you into this if they knew? Right?

Right?

The Kreed Maykr’s ship was perpetually cold, built with only the armored forms of his kind in mind and not your damnably fragile human flesh. At the very least he had deigned to allow you to keep the clothes Thira had gifted you, which luckily included a heavy, fur-lined cloak. Now your only barrier against the frigid cell you’d been thrown in. There was a palpable disgust that the Maykrs held for you, almost none of them would even look at you let alone speak with you. The only reason they kept you around was that you had once again been unlucky enough to be deemed useful.

For all they cared you were nothing more than a sobbing, screaming, bargaining chip fit only to keep their newest and most unruly beast firmly on his leash. You would never forget the first time you saw him, the Slayer. A towering behemoth of green armor and an untamable killing instinct that almost suffocated the air around him. He hadn’t been there when the Kreed Maykr took you, but he had returned just in time to see the aftermath.

There was precious little you knew about him, and less that you understood, but even still it didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly the kind of rage seeing you in the Maykr’s clutches had kindled in him. They kept him in his own cell, a barren circle with layer upon layer of fail-safes and kill switches, not even the freedom to pace like the animal they treated him as. But the second he’d heard you, you had heard a terminal somewhere in the room start to scream.

It had meant nothing to you at the time, a background hum as your ears rang. These… things were not benevolent patrons, their very presence reeked of ill-intent and malice, but you didn’t have your Argenta allies anymore. They had been ordered away, and while Thira had done so reluctantly, she had clearly wanted to. So there you stood, alone, terror rising in your throat like bile.

The air was still and tense, drones milling about unaware or uncaring for the steadily boiling panic in you. You clenched and unclenched your hands, fingernails digging aching crescents into your palms before you spoke, “I don’t know what-“

The Kreed Maykr’s many eyes snapped to you, “I do not remember having bade you speak, human.” He said it like it was some kind of a filthy word, something he could barely stomach even leaving his lips. Immediately your shoulders flinched upward, voice quavering into silence. “You will not speak unless spoken to, you will do as instructed,” he loomed over you as he continued, “or you will learn quickly what disobedience earns you if you do not.”

A shaky nod was your response and the Kreed Maykr drifted away, absentmindedly waving a hand. “Have her brought to the other containment cell, we shall see if the Khan Maykr’s hypothesis rings true.”

Instantly you were seized by the arms, two drones flanking you and wrapping their odd, tentacle-like, arms around yours and pulling you backward. It was instinct alone that made you dig your heels in, fear that chased a watery cry from your lips. You had no possible idea of what they wanted from you, there was no way they didn’t know you were just a normal human. Unremarkable in every way except blindingly bad luck. The limbs twining around your own coiled tighter as you struggled, every animal part of you screaming that wherever it was they were taking you would be the last place you ever saw. You wanted off this ship, you wanted Novik and Thira to come back for you no matter how unlikely that was, you wanted your life back. “I just want to go home!” Your shriek was answered only by the drones twisting your arms behind you, the pain of bone and muscle being torqued and ground pulling a sob from you that finally broke the dam and sent tears down your face.

SLAYER MOVEMENT DETECTED

Finally your eyes snapped to something that wasn’t the Maykrs. That floating cage came alive, more screens and alarms blaring as the Slayer dragged one foot forward. His single step echoed like a canon shot and sent all the drones into a flurry of motion, even the Kreed Maykr flinched and shuddered. Massive turrets unfolded from the walls, whirring to life as each barrel primed and prepared to fire on the Slayer.

You couldn’t even blink staring at him. Your heart seized and he wasn’t even looking at you. No his eyes were on Bishop Kreed, still suffused with that unnatural golden glow, but locked on like a predator about to leap. One of the drones poured more power into the gravity cage, slamming the Slayer to one knee but failing to pin him completely. Electricity and argent energy arced from the core on the ceiling down to his armor halting his stubborn attempts to stand again. He was going to kill himself at this rate. Your lips parted to speak but nothing escaped, just a panicked, stuttering, breath as a cold barrel pressed to your forehead.

The Kreed Maykr spoke and time slowed to a crawl, “think very carefully about what you do next, Slayer.”

Beads of cold sweat joined the tears dripping down your face, you dared not even move, eyes still locked on the Slayer. He turned to you and still you couldn’t parse anything but the haunting glow in his eyes, but after a few long, agonizing seconds, his body relented. The gun retreated from your head and you sucked in a breath, heart pounding in your ears. Watching the tether reassert control over the Slayer was horrifying, like somebody pulling puppet strings on a human body. His movement was too smooth, almost mechanical, muscles relaxed and placid where seconds ago they’d been straining to what looked like the point of pain.

The drones promptly dragged you away but you’d caught the very last thing Bishop Kreed said.

“My how promising indeed.”

You were, as it turns out, a very effective insurance policy. Bishop Kreed’s… assistant? Minion? Advisor perhaps. Whatever he was to the Bishop, he had told you in the few meager conversations you’d had that your purpose here was to keep the Slayer under control. Or at least be used to do so. And such use typically involved no small amount of pain on your end.

It wasn’t necessarily a frequent occurrence, but it didn’t matter how rare it was. It was excruciating. There was a balancing act the Maykrs struck between near-irreparably harming you and keeping you just alive enough that the Slayer had no choice but to keep playing along. It was humiliating. There was a nonstop video feed of your cell projected on the screen in his. If he so much as breathed in a way they didn’t like, they would do something to you. Be it physical or mental harm, depriving you of food, rest, or warmth, they would do it. And without fail it would snap the Slayer back into their perfect little soldier.

You couldn’t possibly know how long you’d even been locked away. Days? Weeks? Time ceased to mean anything, the lights were always the same, the temperature was always the same, it felt like they gave you food at completely random intervals. Sometimes you swore they forgot you were even there. You’d lie on the floor for god knows how long after the latest session of torment, unthinking, body teetering between the waking and unconscious worlds. It ached, everything ached. Even the frigid metal of the cell’s floor couldn’t ease it anymore, couldn’t reach the agony that had burrowed into the very marrow of your bones.

Part of you wished one day soon they’d finally go too far and outright kill you. There would be no saving them then. The Slayer would rip the ship to pieces with his bare hands and grind the ash under his boots. But there was still a stupid, stubborn, part of you that hoped against all hope it would end some other way. Maybe Thira would come back for you. Maybe something would go wrong and you could escape. Maybe. Possibly.

“Like all of your pathetic species, your purpose is to die for your betters”

You just laid there. Unmoving. Barely breathing. Why even try? Your eyes burned, but no tears escaped, your body stubbornly clung to what little water you had. They were hollowing you out. Day by day. piece by piece. To everyone who had ever known you, you were dead, obliterated in an unfortunate but necessary lab accident. A briefly grieved stepping stone in humanity’s march toward infinite energy. Part of you wanted to laugh at it now that you knew what argent energy was, at the absolute destruction Hayden was courting. If he knew, he was a moron, if not, simply a fool.

A fool and a genius who couldn't see past his own ego long enough to realize that what he had was a monkey's paw and not a golden goose. Each finger curling as your species asked for more and more not knowing the costs that would inevitably come calling.

You had to stop that train of thought, it never led anywhere good. Flashes of the terrible monsters that lived just beyond the gossamer veil of reality. The demons that the UAC was knocking on the door of. Right on Mars. Right next to Earth. If they-

You slammed your own forehead against the ground hard enough to make your ears ring. None of that. Think of something else, anything else, anything besides how doomed you and your people were. You closed your eyes. The golden light still pried at your eyelids, unchanging as ever. Groaning, straining against myriad healing and new injuries, you turned yourself into your back and threw an arm over your eyes. At least a facsimile of darkness. A place where you might pretend.

Retreat inside your own body, your own mind, go somewhere they can’t follow you yet. Was it pathetic to pretend you were just sleeping under your desk back home? Maybe, but you didn’t care. For just a moment your wheezing breath seemed to ease, body going even a little slack as you let your mind wander. A phantom of a memory snagged you, your little wireless speaker. A much cherished part of your workspace, a tiny island just for you amidst the hustle and bustle of the labs. Music. God you missed it.

Before you could stop yourself, before you could think better of it, your lips were moving. It was quiet, off-key, and cracked under the weight of agony, but your voice stumbled along the beginnings of a song. Whatever you could think of, you barely even registered it, but something in you felt lighter. Maykrs didn’t seem to have music, this ship and its crew seemed so sterile, above useless things like amusement and art, it seemed. So this was something all your own, something they couldn’t take from you even if they ripped your larynx from your body. You would have memories. Your home lived in you. Even when it hurt.

As your voice petered off, you felt the needle on the record in your mind skip and skip and skip. Why? Your throat protested the shuddering, panicked breath you sucked in, cold air rasping all the way down like broken glass. Why? Again, the burn in your eyes reminded you there was nothing left in you that your body was willing to cry out. A sob wracked you anyway. Your voice sounded tiny even to you as you whimpered, “Why can’t I remember the rest?”

SLAYER MOVEMENT DETECTED

Your eyes snapped open, arm flying away from them and pushing you up to stare unblinkingly in the direction you guessed he was in. The alarm set your heart racing, like it was clawing at your ribs.

RETURN TO COMPLIANCE OR BE TERMINATED

He was fighting them again, and your mind tore in two directions. If he could get out, he could save you, even if he couldn’t do that he could save himself. At least one of you could be free. He could deny the Maykrs so much. A vengeful and bitter flame in you sang at the idea. The idea of a victory, even a Pyrrhic one, nearly brought a mad giggle out of you. But the other side wailed and cowered at the idea of being alone, of being hurt, punished on his behalf as a last wound to a man they seemed to know they could never fully control.

The Slayer didn’t know you. He seemed to care in an abstract sense about you, didn’t want to see you hurt because of him. But there was no way he’d keep weighing that against his freedom and keep choosing you. He had no reason to. He deserved to escape, people needed him, he was someone who could help in ways you never could. The Slayer had suffered like this for who knows how long. He needed to take his shot while he could.

RETURN TO COMPLIANCE

“Get out of here,” you spoke it into the air like a prayer.

CHARGING PLASMA CANONS

Another sob tore through you. “Don’t you dare look back either.”

PLASMA CANONS PRIMED. THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING

You felt something rattle the very ship and a manic smile pulled at your lips. “Rip this place apart, tear it out of the sky!” It hurt to yell but it felt so good.

The ship-wide comm crackled to life as the Kreed Maykr screamed, “Somebody shut her up!”

That finally ripped a full laugh out of you. It tore its way up from your stomach and out. The walls shook again. You howled like a maniac, falling back to the floor, fingers digging into your hair and covering your eyes to hide what you were, against all logic, sure were stubbornly welling tears. Seems there was something left in you after all. “I hope he gets you first, Bishop Kreed” you hissed his name with force that shocked even you. “I hope you beg like I did!”

The door to your cell flies open but you couldn’t stop even if you’d wanted to, “I hope he doesn't listen, just like you did.”

You were dragged up by your collar and something struck you on the head. The darkness was almost instant but you remember grinning like a lunatic nonetheless.

When you awoke you were somewhere else, a different room, darker and smaller. Taking stock of yourself you tried to push yourself up only to realize you were strapped down to a table. Panic doused every nerve in your body and you jostled against the restraints only to freeze as cold air slithered down your back. Your bare back. Like a trapped animal, your head whipped every way it could looking for some way to escape, somewhere to even hide.

“Finally decided to wake up, have you?” The Bishop’s voice only chilled your blood further. “I should have you peeled apart, piece by screaming piece.” He finally floated into view, looking more haggard than you’d ever seen. A little satisfaction was a small balm on your frazzled mental state, the Slayer must’ve escaped, that would explain this level of exhausted anger. “I should kill you, but I won’t. I have something far more… instructive in mind.”

Without explaining further, a sardonic smile flitted across his face and he exited only to be replaced by drones you’d never seen before. As they approached, terminals and platforms emerged from the floors and walls, a large light flicking on overhead that would’ve been blinding had you not been face down. “What are you doing?” The drones didn’t answer your hesitant question, simply continuing to silently float around preparing things.

The door slid open again, revealing that Maykr with a broken halo. He floated toward you, eerie and silent as the rest of them. “You really should have known better at this point,” his head tilted down at you. Inspecting, appraising. “You both should, but it seems you humans are a uniquely willful and self-destructive species.” The bastard had the gall to tut at you as if you were some misbehaving child. As if you weren’t crisscrossed with bruises, as if your ribs weren’t cracked and your blood hadn’t stained the floor of this ship more times than you could count.

He made some unknown command and the drones set to work again. Hands touched you, pushed and prodded even as you jerked and tried to throw yourself from the table. “You should feel lucky I argued him down to at least giving you local anesthetic.” That single sentence froze you solid, barely registering the stab of a few needles, right between your shoulder blades. “From what I understand of normal humans, enough acute pain can induce cardiac arrest.” You stared at him. Unblinking as you felt the liquid numbness seep under your skin.

With lips that could barely form the words you asked, “What are you doing to me?”

If you were in any fit state, you might’ve noticed the minute hesitation in him. It would have scared you more. “There can be no more mishaps.”

Ice. Flame. Detached but not. Yet more restraints slammed you further into the table. The kiss of a scalpel was an unmistakable thing, slow and precise. Slipping through flesh almost without resistance. The drones were unmoved by your shrieking, cold and silent even as you screamed your own throat raw. They peeled you open. You felt blood run down your back, hot and thick, a mocking warmth in the frigidity of the sterile room.

Skin to fat to muscle to bone. Even with the blessing of some numbness it was like acid on a raw nerve. Parts of you never meant to meet air were subject to cruel, robotic, hands. Worse was the fact you could feel them adding things. Slipping filaments in between neurons and meat, slithering their control into your very body. They flayed you open, slow and deliberate, before whatever it was they put in you was activated and started moving of its own accord.

The Bishop’s right hand spoke one final time, “Perhaps now you both will learn how futile this was.”

Something beyond even what that damnable machine was touching cracked. He hadn’t escaped. The thought swirled around in your head like a hurricane. He didn’t escape. Some noise left you, a choke, a sob, you wanted to vomit but had nothing in your stomach to retch up. Not even after you’d begged him.

You really were never getting out of here.

Then… then the real pain started. Pain that rendered you mute. Agony beyond what a word could ever quantify. All that left you was jagged, gargling, sounds. Struck dumb, struck dead but not dying. It curled. It clawed into you. You weren’t even writhing anymore, you could feel your heart pounding behind your eyes, in your ears, down to every capillary in the farthest reaches of you. Filaments turned to fingers turned to needles. A monster, a demon of metal they put on your gaping, bloody, wound. It dug past muscle straight to nerve, right to your spine and everything splintered. Thought ceased to mean anything, time died. All there was, all you had, was hell beneath your very skin.

The Slayer didn’t even need the video feed to hear you screaming through the walls. But the auric glow in his eyes didn’t falter this time. His soul shook but his body wouldn’t answer. Trapped. Trapped. Trapped. A prisoner. A pawn. A thing. Idiot. Failure. Failure. Should’ve killed them. They’d have killed her first. Maybe not. Maybe he could’ve been faster. Maybe maybe maybe. Probably not. But what if he had?

His muscles twitched and the control tether was ramped even higher, stilling him once more as your screams finally petered off into silence. Time hadn’t held any meaning to him for years, but still the small part of him that could think beyond rage counted the seconds. The Maykr’s control wasn’t perfect, it dulled everything about him down to slaughter and obedience, but there were small pockets of his mind that he could call his own even now. And all of them held their breath. You’d been quiet for too long. Quiet wasn’t good.

He couldn’t see you back in your cell. At least if you were screaming it meant you were still alive. It meant he might hear you try and speak to him again. Or sing. Hell he would even take hearing you cry over the all-consuming silence of this ship again. Your pained sobs were not a sound he liked, not in the slightest, but they told him you were at least okay enough to feel. That you hadn’t fully broken yet. That he could still save you. That he could deny your captors another soul.

The door to your cell opened and he saw you unceremoniously tossed in, body limp and lifeless. Your shirt was gone, your back a mess of carnage he couldn’t discern the details of. It boiled his blood but the tether held firm. His eyes flicked to the side of the screen as something new flickered into existence. A vital tracker. Why? It couldn’t be his, so it had to be… But why would they need to keep tabs on your vital signs?

A quiet groan broke him from his frantic thoughts and his eyes snapped to you again. You were moving! Alive! Alive! Still alive! He hadn’t failed you yet! He could still fix this. Just had to figure out how.

The bishop’s assistant threw something on you and you flinched, expecting more pain, more violation. But mercifully it was just your borrowed cloak. Or what used to be borrowed, you didn’t think Thira would want it back now, ragged and blood-spattered as it was. You barely registered moving a trembling arm to grab it, could barely feel it between your fingers as they shook. Numb. Exhausted. A cloak clutched to your bare chest was the only vague protection and comfort you could muster. Just when you thought they couldn’t rip any more dignity away from you, they throw you back into a 24/7 livestream topless and covered in blood, the bastards.

It might’ve felt at least mildly amusing to be upset about the Slayer and whoever else was monitoring the feed seeing your bare breasts if you didn’t feel like you’d been hollowed out with a dull blade. Somehow you couldn’t really feel your back, you felt the cold of the machine, the warmth of blood flow that had slowed to a tepid ooze rather than the hot flood it had been. Small mercies. You were probably in shock, you felt your heart racing, felt your chest expanding with rapid, shallow breaths, but it felt like your thoughts existed behind a pane of glass. Separate from your body.

Maybe that was a good thing, maybe the thick fog over your mind was what was keeping you from feeling everything far more acutely. It was certainly preferable to the operating table. You felt your stomach lurch just at the thought and it brought a little lucidity back to you. Just enough to hear somebody talking. It didn’t seem like they were talking to you so you paid it no mind, content to curl harder into your cloak to try and regain some warmth.

SLAYER MOVE-

Your body was alight again, every nerve ablaze from your spine outward and you convulsed. You didn’t even register screaming again until the pain stopped and you were hacking up bile onto the floor. This time your ears decided to actually comprehend what was being said.

“This will be the fruit of further rebellion, Slayer. Remember this lesson well.” It was the Bishop again, sounding so very pleased with himself. Hate. You hated him like you’d never thought you could for another living being. In the burning aftershocks of that monstrous device’s assault on your nervous system your fractured thoughts started to fade. Oblivion, unconsciousness, was so much sweeter. Forgetting for a few hours was a joyous thing if they let you sleep that long. You hoped they’d leave you alone for a while after this.

The Slayer watched you eventually go limp, vitals still active but shaky, asleep. He was fighting everything in himself to not move, not even blink too aggressively. Rage was too paltry a word for what he felt in that moment, when his hand clenched and you’d shrieked like you were dying. They had sewed your suffering together, shackled your very survival to his obedience and bet that he’d weigh one life against freedom. They’d bet on the bleeding heart they tried so vehemently to silence.

And they’d bet right. The Bishop had sneered with smug satisfaction when he had frozen, when your agony had literally stayed his hand. The perfect trap. Not his tether, not his rage, a noose to hang himself with because he couldn’t bear to see more of his people suffer, especially not at his own hand. An innocent torn from your shared home and brought into this mess because of him, the Maykr’s fear of him. They went further because he kept pushing and now look where that had landed you both.

His eyes fell toward you again, the uneven line of your heart monitor, the blood drying and flaking from your skin. He was almost happy you’d buried your face in that cloak, the undoubtedly deep shadow on your eyes and crust of tears on your face were not things his shame could take seeing at that moment. It burned. Roiled in him like snakes rearing up with fangs desperate to lash out, but he couldn’t move. Not without hurting you.

The Slayer focused his eyes on your breathing, shallow as it was, your ribs rising and falling, rising and falling. He burned the image into his mind, every inch of your agony-stricken form, every drop of blood and angry wound.

The Maykrs would pay for a great many things, sufferings untold, but your price upon them would be different. The Bishop had exacted a personal and intimate violation on you, forced him to be a part of your torment, and worst of all that monster took pleasure in it. That kind of cruelty deserved payment in kind. The Slayer felt himself start to move, to clench a hand and aim to rip through everything between him and the target of his hatred, but he saw your heart jump. The slightest hiss of pain even in your sleep stilled him again.

He would figure a way out of this, he would save you, avenge you, make the Kreed Maykr pay. Make him pay. Make him pay. Make him pay.

#Drinking THis #yess gimme that sweet sweet suffering together angst #baby boy you'd better start crackin' bars soon bc momma wanna see you go ham #show them these hands be E for Everyone #then carry me out bc I can't walk my guy with this aputure science bullshit in my spine #then maybe get me a gun so I can bust a cap in a few too cause you can never have too much vengeance #doom slayer x reader #doom the dark ages

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bitebitesnap · 1 month ago

Text

The Blood Quickens! Ch. 2

Aphrodisiac! Dismas/Reader

A pit stop at an oasis goes awry, forcing you to confront your feelings for a certain highwayman.

word count: 4865

You considered yourself somewhat capable of handling bad situations. Though you’re no fighter you’ve been able to keep yourself out of trouble well enough when on your own. You don;t have a special craft like Para and her bombs or Boudica and her reckless strength. At most, there’s a gun in your belt and the general knowledge of the area to escape into the shadows if necessary.

But your strength usually comes in words. Reasoning with people, mostly those of the desperate few remaining from the fanatics, was how you’d get more to your cause and inspire more hope into the world.

You wish you had some of that right now because Para’s bluntness shocks you right out of your stupor and you choke on nothing, “What-I-!” Your hands flail about as you try and fail to articulate correctly but all you get out is, “No I don’t!”

“Ah no, you’re right. That’s not even all of them.” She snaps her fingers at you, completely disregarding everything you just said, “You like him and you want to have intercourse with him.”

The noise that leaves you could be qualified as a new bird call as you grapple her stupid beak nose with both hands, scrunching it up like a rolled up newspaper, “Shut your mouth no I don’t! Keep your voice down!”

Even with your hissing and her struggling against your grip she still manages to get out, “And apparently it’s bad since you can’t stop making fuck me eyes at him for long enough to-”

Not even you expected to be swinging the good doctor’s head around in circles by the mask as you beg her to just shut up while she caterwauled and pawed at your arms trying to get you off. But that is exactly what happens for just long enough that it takes someone clearing their throat to make you stop. You snap your head over your shoulder, feeling Para’s mask moving up in the same direction.

Baldwin stands just inside the door. His mask is stained and cloak torn with red smears from wounds he sustained across his back, but he still remains as stalwart as ever, not showing a lick of pain as he stands tall. You can’t see his expression well given only his mouth is visible but you’re very sure he’s giving you both a look. Whether it’s bewilderment, disdain or disappointment had yet to be seen-at least until he spoke, “I see we are in dire need of a break, indeed.”

Neutrality it is.

“I am trying to tell (Y/N) about her-” Para tries to stand straighter with your hands still on her beak, but you yank it back down to shut her up.

“Baldwin did Dismas tell you what we’re doing?” You hurriedly spit out while retaining your hold as she started thrashing again, this time spitting curses in different languages.

“Yes. I am about to take down the fire pit supplies.” Somehow he doesn’t sound any different even though you both just went right back into fighting but you chalk it up to him being too tired to deal with you. Though you do detect a bit more exasperation than usual.

He’s a saint for dealing with the lot of you.

“Great!” You manage just as Para shoves your hands loose, “While you’re at it can you take a look around the oasis and make sure it’s secure? Me and Para,” You accentuate her name with a hard glare as you lean towards her, rubbing your sore hands while she massages the new wrinkles in her beak, “Will get the tents set up.”

“Very well. I will relay my whereabouts to Dismas and assemble the fire pit. He and Bonnie have better tracking skills than I, so I recommend them to scout the area.” He’s already up the ladder and undoing the ropes around the bundled twigs for the fire as you turn around. With both hauled over a shoulder he steps back down, “He should not be far behind me-”

“Right behind, ya mean? I’m not deaf.” Dismas reappears back outside, giving Baldwin an unimpressed eyebrow raise as he steps down, “Carriage ain’t so big I can’t hear ya when yer just outside.” He’s back in his jacket, bandana hanging loose around his neck. The barest hint of wood and steel tells you he’s reattached his gear, knife and pistol tucked away safely in the belts at his waist.

You try not to show your disappointment at losing out on seeing him so dressed down and instead focus on answering, “So you know what I want you to do?”

He nods, “Check the perimeter, make sure nothin’ nasty’s taken up roost ‘ere. The normal sort of repertoire and all that-probably could get it done ‘efore spark gets back if she’s done takin’ her piss.” He glares out towards the woods with mild disappointment before he hears Baldwin approaching, shrugging up at him as he passes likely after giving him some sort of disapproving look, “What? ‘S not like none of us have ‘ad any time to so.”

You just sigh and wave them off, “Okay, whatever. Just get things done before it gets late. I do not feel like getting involved with whatever bandits are running around here tonight.” You set a hand on your temple as pressure starts to throb.

It’s been a long ride. You;ve been running through more burning cities, infested farmland, and cursed docks than you want to deal with ever again. But you have to eventually, you always have to go back and retake the land from corruption. The stain spreads like oil on water and seeps into every crack to the point the light won’t make it in there eventually.

The stress is starting to get to you as pressure builds up behind your eyes. Vaguely you recognise that no one is talking to you, probably off doing their own things while you press your hands into your eyes and scrub until you start seeing shapes behind your eyelids.

Breathe. Take it slower, In and out. Deep breaths until it calms down. Nothing can get you here and while your team is tired none of them are out yet. You can do this. You can stuff your issues with Dismas under your skin deep enough that they won’t come back, you can make it without anything more than what you have.

You hope.

Something rattles softly next to you before the stench of very strong liquor snaps you out of your thoughts with a cringe. When you drop your hands a flask is held out to you in a familiar red glove. You look up at him confused.

Dismas gives you a small lopsided grin that makes your heart race, “Ya lookin’ tense over ‘ere. I know ya ain’t much of a drinker but,” He shrugs a shoulder, the contents of the flask sloshing a bit, “Might take the edge off a bit.”

Face warm again you can;t even look him in the eye, instead looking away to find Baldwin also staring at you over his shoulder. However, once you made eye contact-at least you think you did-he turned away and wandered into the oasis, disappearing under the heavy brush.

Why was he just standing there? He could have continued without checking on you, even done it himself. Why did he wait until Dismas decided to act?

You continue to stare at where he left for a moment before looking back to the former rogue embarrassed as you hesitantly reach for the flask, “Thanks…” You’d curse yourself for how breathy you sound, but you find you can;t say much else.

He holds the flask tighter for a moment when you grab it. With your fingers just barely wrapping around the metal you can feel the strength in his grip, that if he wanted to he could just yank it away without much effort. You weren’t much of a fighter either, he could overtake you in an instant if he wanted. Pin you, hurt you.

But instead he adjusts and lets go after a moment with the barest brush of the tips of his fingers against yours.

You must be losing it if you’re barely an hour into rest and already thinking way too deeply on things like how Dismas would hold you down if he wanted to have his way with you. You’re just his leader, of course he has to be nice to you. It’s nothing special.

Even then the image of him holding the back of your head to force feed you liquor comes to the forefront of your mind. You down a hefty swig of the flask’s contents to combat the ghost feeling of his wide palm cupping your skull-instantly regretting it as it burns in your throat and leaves you coughing.

“Take it easy, yeah? Don’t get the good stuff often ‘nd I’d kinda like ta drink most of it before ya go spittin’ it eveyrwhere.” Dismas takes the flask from your hand as you cough, patting you on the back. Even him smacking you was gentle.

“M-Maybe give me a warning and I won’t-” You’re still coughing a bit as you try to clear your throat, “Damn what is in that, arsenic?”

“If it was you’d be coughing blood in about ten minutes.” Para inserts herself by nudging her nose in between you two then shoving you both apart by the shoulders, “If we want to make good time before dark we should start getting the tents off the carriage. And I’ll be honest, I prefer doing my work by a campfire instead of pitch blackness.” She punctuates her sentence with a glance towards the sputtering lantern.

You give her a stare of reproach. You’re not even sure where she’d come from, or why now of all times she had to intervene. Some part of you is recoiling in a fit at having your moment ruined despite your best efforts to quell it.

He’s just helping you because you were choking. Nothing more.

It’s Dismas who pulls away, looking somewhere to his side, “Yeah. Sure, we’ll uh,” The flask clinks down into a hidden pocket inside his jacket. He’s refusing to look at you, “I’ll go help put up the pit an’ we’ll get on that scoutin’ for ye.” With that he starts off around the ruins after Baldwin, disappearing within the mossy stones in seconds.

A pit forms in your gut as you watch him leave. Was it something you said? Did he not appreciate you being mean about his liquor”? Though he’d never made a complaint and even laughed when Bonnie tried and had the same reaction, was it different with you?

Hands on your shoulders shake you out of your thoughts, “(Y/N) dammit, pay attention!” Para’s scuffed up lenses are the first thing you see when the world stops spinning. Now certain she had your attention again she lets go of you to shake her head, “Light you are deep in. Last time I saw you so worked up over something it was when some fanatics were burning the library.”

That has you scowling at her, “I am not. First of all the library is important,” She rolls her head as you stomp towards the carriage, “Second of all I am not deep in anything.”

It is nothing. Just a bit of confusion, thats all. You’re still trying to get a read on him and understand all his tells.

Something in the back of your mind tells you that you know plenty but you squash it down as one can never be too sure.

She lets out a loud sigh, exasperated, “Please stop with the lying. It’s not as cute or ‘demure’ like Baldwin puts it. It’s actually quite annoying how much the two of you give each other fuck me eyes when you think no one is looking.”

Her boots tromp up next to you while you’re opening the side compartment and digging around the excess supplies, face burning, “I am not staring at him nor is he staring at me. I’m in charge so of course he looks at me a lot, the same as all of you. THere’s nothing else about it.” You hope she’ll drop the subject when you start handing her the tent supplies in an attempt to redirect her focus.

Mercifully she does, more likely because the longer you stand here arguing the more time you waste getting camp set up. You spend a good few minutes in silence gathering the materials, which gives you enough time to cool down and collect yourself. After shuffling things around you finally get around to closing the compartment with everything split between each other since there was no reason to come back at this late an hour. You’ll just have to hope that when Bonnie comes back she’ll know to let the horses loose for the night and hide the carriage.

Arms full of supplies you enter the oasis. Upon lifting the blanket of vines away from the crumbled archway the faint scent of salts fills the air. The grass is greener and less sick looking than the outside, flowers peppered around clusters of taller bramble. Logs are set around a simple camping area made on top of a patch of bare stone where Baldwin has made himself busy with setting the fire up.

Dismas is next to him, clearing off excess bramble from the campfire area.

Just the sight of him alone is enough to trigger a response from your traitorous heart as it goes thundering away in your chest. Watching him be entirely focused on the task feels more lecherous than it is with how you zero in on the crease of his brow and the effort he puts in to chuck away the brush. None of it should be heavier than a paperweight, but the visual has still left you reeling.

Nonetheless you remind yourself of your audience following way too close behind. The thump of her boots is in time with your stride, and no doubt she;s keenly watching your expressions to pick at another weak point-to what end you don’t know. But you don;t want her to get any bright ideas when he’s standing right there listening to your every word, so you crush down any and all response you may have to his presence the best you can.

Your face is the picture of neutrality when they turn at your approach. You could barely see the highwayman from the corner of your eye, standing stock still as Baldwin looks up at you, “Dismas has been ensuring we do not cause a bushfire while I was to ignite the campfire myself. As you see,” He gestures to the half finished pit he was kneeling beside, “There have been difficulties.”

It’s Dismas who speaks up, his raspy voice loud next to you, “Been rainin’ out here recently. Not much good wood around ‘nd we’ve been makin’ good by usin’ whatever;s driest. With any luck one of ‘em’s bound to catch a spark. Might have some better luck if our matchstick hadn’t run off.” There’s this odd rustle where he stands as if he’d adjusted the pile he was holding in some kind of gesture like a shrug.

But you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Your gaze is focused onto Baldwin entirely, to which the leper has his own strange reaction of turning his head just barely to the side then back. As if he was looking between Dismas and yourself.

There’s a soft little step closer to you where Dismas is. It makes your skin erupt into goosebumps knowing he’s intentionally trying to close the distance. You can feel him reaching out, physically or metaphorically as if he wanted to talk to you.

But you can’t you can’t you can’t.

“Alright, if you can’t get it started then we’ll just have to find some extra firewood further in later. With any luck we’ll all be able to get a night’s sleep and a good wash before heading back out.” Instead you move onto the next portion of business while walking away, “Me and Para will set up the tents over there. We’ll be back in a moment.” You feel both of their questioning gazes linger on your back as you rounded a cluster of bushes deeper within.

That probably did nothing to avert suspicion but you couldn;t find any other way to put it. You needed space from Para. From him, everyone for just a minute. At least until you could get your thoughts together.

There’s always a specific area to set up things like tents in these places. A section of overgrown vegetation too dense for vile crops to weed through or a half burned down building where the ash is so thick on the outside that it looks like it’s nothing but coal to the untrained eye. Here it’s a section that was once part of a war camp, a portioned off ruined corner of a building still standing despite the rain. The two walls were coated in a dense layer of moss while clusters of vines hung low from the roof like a curtain to hide whoever took refuge.

You practically rushed inside, dropping the tent supplies in a heap. You rifled through it, separating the stakes and cords from the tent fabric. Counted the stakes, then double counted.

It was childish to ignore the conversation you knew was coming in hopes she would concede. That if you just continued routine it would go back to normal. Just a minute to get your bearings, at least.

Sadly that wasn’t the case as the second you heard Para’s boots approaching the hideout she was immediately talking, “If you wanted to be subtle then you should be taking a class for it as your skill is lacking.”

“Para please.just stop. We;re all tired and we want to take a rest and get some sleep so let’s just set up the tents and be done with it.” You state with finality while unfurling the tents. Each one will take at least six stakes and it would be a few minutes a piece to get each one set deep enough into the mud to keep still under the wind. Luckily the earth here is softer and not as rain soaked so it will be a comfortable sleep.

“No.”

You groan as your train of thought shatters instantly, “What is it then? You want to make fun of me, is that it? Well then fine go ahead, I’m sure you find it all very illogical.”

“You’re right, the humors of the human body were never a strong suit of mine as I majored in medicine.” She says choosing to ignore your irritation while she helps you in starting to assemble a tent, “I do however find it very annoying when one of my travel companions chooses to be infatuated with another then utterly refuses to make any efforts to continue.”

You roll your head over a shoulder to throw a disgruntled look her way,“Are we seriously going to have this fight right now?” You pray that isn;t the case.

Light must not be listening today because she nods, “Yes because I’d rather get this over with than watch you two make fools of yourselves for another thousand leagues.”

You want to be angry about it. The frustration wells up and burns your tongue like a fresh spark.

But instead you sigh, turning your gaze to your hands. What comes out is more subdued, “It’s not that simple, Para. You can’t just go up to people and say how you feel.” You sulkily continue to put the tent together, albeit a bit slower.

No you weren;t going to think about Dismas as you worked. How gentle he was when helping you, nor wondering at all when he started to offer things to you and when exactly it’d included the flask he kept hidden away at all times. It wasn’t the first time you’d allowed your thoughts to wander about him either, mostly it’d been about how best to utilize his skill and when to bring him on the road.

At least until one day you looked at Dismas, covered in blood after taking a strike for your vestal, that you wondered if he would do the same for you

From there it had been a very quick, very jarring downward spiral.

It went from wondering if he would protect you, to only wanting him to protect you. Noticing little details like how the scar on his nose follows where it seems to have broken, how it only adds to his grizzled appearance. Where the scars on his mouth line up like wolf fangs and your interest worsening whenever he’d flash his roguish smile at someone-light forbid it be you otherwise your heart would start racing and your face would start burning. Then even the smell of him would set you off and you’d have to firmly resist shoving your face into his pillow to get a high off of it.

But none of that compared to the day he handed you his spare knife when he left the carriage after a stretch of bad road took out the wheels. Stagecoach off kilter, tilting over to the side like a sinking ship you had the team jump out to fix it as fast as possible, but like always it never was enough. Someone noticed, someone came. And when they ran out to deal with the ambush, Dismas was the one to jump back inside, bar the viewport shut and barricade you in the back. While you were trying to hide where the armor was thickest he caught your hand and shoved the hilt into your palm, closing your fingers around it.

“Don’t let them get in if ya can. Whatever happens, if we get even one wheel fixed ya take the carriage and bolt. Yer the only one ‘ere who cun get more of us ta stop this.”

The words stuck with you even now. You could still hear the tone of his voice, how dead serious he was about leaving everyone. Even after the time when he;d first experienced a crash, fumbling with the tools in a panic as he yelled at everyone not to leave him behind. His eyes had flashed with a kind of controlled terror, as if he were certain you would ditch him and bolt-but you dragged him into the carriage by the scruff of his coat. He’d sat there stunned by your gall for all of a second before sagging into the floorboards as all tension left him.

You wondered then, if that was why he’d started being more protective of the group. That he’d found a team that wouldn’t leave him and wanted to keep it together at all costs-and if it included you in that number.

Para’s voice brings you back to the present, “Of course the both of us know why you’re after him so badly. There are plenty of decent qualities in him, thievery aside. Conventional attractiveness, admirable level of strength, and I know most women are drawn into his protective nature. He’s certainly not the only eligible male in our group, as I know of some finding interest in your crusader and that older general. You could have gone for any of them I assume.” It was like she was reading a grocery list from how detached she was, still calmly assembling the tent as she rambled. She’d make a terrible therapist, you notice.

Metal clinks as you pause abruptly at a thought that comes to you, “Wait what do you mean both of us-”

You feel the faint rasp of a leather nose prop against your ear, “But he’s the only one who’s name leaves your mouth when you’re masturbating in the front.”

Your face erupts into searing heat and you nearly fall on your ass in the mud trying to flail away from her. With a muffled squeak you whip around and swat in her direction, “What is with you!? No I am not-I’m not doing anything in the front I’m just,” You flail a hand, “Driving!”

She just dodges the swing with a tilt, “You’re not very quiet you know and like I said you’re subtly is terrible. The front doesn't have any sound proofing despite having armor, nor does it need to be constantly manned.“

Your face is on fire, the hammer in your hand is slick with sweat. Because you stopped holding it Para takes the tent into her hands and pulls everything taut. You’re left watching her do so as the beating in your chest roars in your ears. You think you're biting your lip and chewing the skin raw.

For the first time in forever, you're at a loss for words. You can’t bring yourself to do much else other than stare at her mortified.

“I see I have your attention for once. Good, I'll list this simply since from your reactions today I’ve been able to gather this.” She adjusts the tent so it stands while she faces you and lifts her fingers one at a time, “You like him, not just as a companion. You want to be romantically involved with him but you think your position as our leader makes you untouchable to anyone because it’ll affect your image. And worst of all, somehow despite every conceivable hint I’ve ever seen a man give,” She points at you then with contempt, “You think that idiot doesn’t feel the same.”

You want to argue. Be mad, or upset-anything. But you can’t.

Because she’s right. That your infatuation will result in you losing favor. People need you as a beacon, a promise of hope and safe passage for those who can’t fight for themselves. If they were to see you falter that it would somehow turn against everyone here, everyone under your flame rendered useless. Above all you’re scared he’s just being nice, that he doesn't have any interest in you. That maybe he wouldn’t want to do anything more than a quick fuck.

You’re not sure you can handle that.

So you turn away, cheeks burning with shame. You play with the hammer feeling the little divots where it’s been used a thousand times. The little chips in the metal where it’s been damaged against stones or roots in the earth. A thousand stories tell where it’s been in the marks on it’s surface, only so much it known to you. Damaged goods to some but perfectly fine in the right hands.

Much like the scars on his face. A story he’s never told, but one that only drives your curiosity and affection as it didn’t deter you in the slightest.

But Para continues on, pulling you away from your thoughts to look at her, “But despite everything, I am beyond certain that not only does he feel the same, he is just as whipped for you as you are for him. Trust me I have never seen a man act so pathetic about it-granted,” She pauses in her speech to glance to the side in idle thought, “I’m certain he thinks himself too low for you and that maybe you’d go for someone of higher birth or something as ridiculous as that. Seriously, it is stifling watching him trip over himself now.”

Bashfully you go back to fiddling with the hammer, unsure of yourself, “...But how can you be so sure, Para? Certainly there must be more to it.”

She grabs you by the shoulders, gently this time as she turns you to face her, “Do you trust me?”

You blink up at her, “Um...Yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then trust me when I say that miserable codger of a man is head over heels for you and is whipped as a carriage horse over it." Her face is so close, nearly touching your nose with her beak, "I've never lied to you yet and I don;t intend to. And I will tell you that not only is he obsessed with you, he wants you more than you know."

You stare at her, taking in the frayed hem of her hood and scuffs on the lenses of her mask. You can't truly see her face, but her tone is soft and more genuine than you've heard from her in a while. There's a clarity to her words that quells the nervous energy running through your veins just enough to loosen your shoulders, "....Okay. I trust you."

"Good. And for what it’s worth, both me and Baldwin have been keeping a tally on whether or not you’ll get together without help. I’ve been the one stating that you’d need some kind of outside force to get you out of your head. He says that things need to go their own way-pah.” She huffs and waves a hand, “No great advancement was ever made alone.”

You start to smile, grateful, then pause, “Wait then why did you interrupt us when we were talking earlier? I think that would count as ‘things going their own way’ as Baldwin would put it.”

She gives you an incredulous look, “And let him win? Please I have nearly a hundred relics on the line for this and I am not letting him pull ahead that easy.”

Ah so that explained her hounding you.

As you come to that conclusion she stands up and brushes off the leaves on her skirt, “Let’s finish the tents first and then I’ll help you think of how to lure in your highwayman.”

Your face is warm even as you snicker, “You have no idea how to do that, do you?”

“Absolutely not, so let’s get to it.” The sheer confidence in her words is what sets you off into hysterical laughter.

#the bite writes #darkest dungeon #darkest dungeon 2 #dd highwayman #highwayman x reader #dismas x reader #double the length let's goooo

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