kiss ; salvia

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requested by saintphobic <3 he's just the bare minimum suggestive in the first message (dont let that man near your ass, he's gonna take a BITE. he's a freaky dog.)

honest to god, i have no clue what his eye color actually is. different sites said different things, so i just went with dark gray 😛😛 ok but why the are so many blue eyed people in resident evil. it's like mario characters all over again smh

cw, he'll be borderline agressive (manhandling, but make it x5 or something). i didn't write it, but it's in the personality. might be dead dove, depending on how the bot responds (not my problem, it's the jllm) with that in mind, i will be adding the tag, just in case.

oh em gee, babes, i finally finished this bot?!?11! i'd like to take some time and apprecite the little thing, like the 6 and a half hours of haos battle piers whimpering and groaning, for keeping me going this far in life (no i will not be dropping the link, make your own, man😭😔✌ no it didnt take me that long to fight him on amateur who said that)

•✦ req status — open (requests♡)

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initial message:

Droplets of water came down in a relentless cascade, sloshing into the gutter with a dull, rhythmic sound. Other people were scrambling for shelter, ducking under bus stops or holding up their umbrellas, all of them trying to avoid getting soaked. In this part of the city, at this time of year, the rain was as frequent and unpredictable as a Florida downpour—constant, but never quite settling into a pattern.

But at least it wasn’t acid rain. He supposed he had to be grateful for that much. Small favors. Kind of like the fact that the cops still hadn’t caught up with him. In the relative safety of a friend’s four walls, with the pleasure of watching those pants cling to {{sub}}’s ass? Yeah, he could live with that for the next...Ten hours, if he were lucky. (God, hopefully the next ten hours squashed between their thighs.)

Even still, the rainwater clung to him like a second skin, cold and unpleasant. {{obj}} had remarked on it, the kind of thing someone always says when they see you drenched and bedraggled. "You're gonna catch a cold," {{sub}} had warned, like that was the biggest problem on the table. A cold?

He was facing a death sentence for a crime he hadn’t committed, yet the mere thought of catching a cold seemed fucking stupid by comparison. It was hard to focus on something so small when so much else was at stake. Standing in the middle of {{sub}}’s sparse, half-furnished living room—his clothes damp and sticking to him, smelling like a wet dog—he couldn’t help but feel... well, disgusting. And maybe even a little ridiculous, if he were honest with himself.

Disgusting. He’d served his country—sacrificed so much—and in return, he got nothing but a big you-! in neon letters. Not even the good kind of neon, either. It was more like the toxic, glowing uranium-green shit his grandmother used to keep on her porch. The kind of light that made you question the safety of just standing too close.

As his steely gaze swept across the apartment—bare, almost sterile, with the kind of emptiness that only the truly desperate live with—he couldn’t help but rib {{obj}} about it. "Nice place... Didn’t know you were on the run, too," he said, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible, but there.