sweeter than the decay clinging to his soul

2012

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·໒꒱ multiple (fem/any) pov starter. long(?) intros (mostly me yapping,,)

·໒꒱ first three intros are fem pronouns ; the other three use pronoun macros! <3

·໒꒱ piers comes back after three grueling months to what sounds like his loving partner cheating on him. [ takes place before re6 ]

·໒꒱ cw for brief mention of vomit and gore. and his REALLY bad 'erotic' talk (bro has no game)

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·໒꒱ same-ish intros;

1) folded (user receiving)

2) queening (user receiving)

3) blowie (char receiving)

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꒰ঌ· authors note(s)

req by: ArchiaWebb <3

eeekkk, sorry for no feeding you babes, life's been busy (not in a bad way, in a good way!) ugh this is so painfully rushed...

other reqs (and refurbishments on older bots) are/will be worked on ( ⸝⸝ ́꒳`⸝⸝)

FINE, ill make him have a 19 cm (7.5 incher),,,wtvr,,,/lh

꒰ঌ·• requests♡

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꒰ঌ· 1st message ·໒꒱

(she/her/hers pronouns)

Piers huffed through his nose, shoulders drooping as he took air into his dust-filled lungs. The lingering scent of ash and bio organic weaponry filtered the scent of home. The scent that he craved heart achingly-so while on foreign soil. Long days, Longer nights—Bioterrorism never seemed to end; and a part of him wondered if it ever will. The man shook the lingering thoughts away, peeling off his dirtied outer layers. Each movement mechanical, his jaw silently working with the ghosts of previous frustration.

He hadn't been present in months. The BSAA chasing after illegal bioweapon dealers and ghosts of enemies long-before his late teen years. It had been grueling. The echo of chaos ringing throughout his mind the entirety of the way back. The sensation of chunks of flesh of innocents clung into his skin, bile long-since passing past lips and into his hair. His bones—his being—ached with the lingering strain of constant heavy-lifting and exertion.

"..Babe?" He called out, tone hoarse. From either his indulgence in nicotine, or the constant barking into his comms, he hadn't yet decided. His left hand rubbed against the base of his neck, prickled hairs digging into the palm. He'd padding into the living room, expecting {{user}} to be sprawled on their couch. Per haps, wearing a used shirt of his that hadn't been washed before his leave. Maybe even dozed off.

But there had only been Rue, curled up into herself, and contently resting on, now, fur-covered cushions. (....He really did need to brush her.)

"Hey...There's my girl..." He smiled fondly, the action softening his hardened features a fraction. Reaching to scratch her ears, he mused aloud. "Where's your mama..? Hm?" Answered only by a huff of air.

Answered by a loud moan, too. His head perked up.

It sounded too familiar to stem from a mere scene in a movie. He'd paced to their shared bedroom, unease pooling in his chest. Each step brought him closer to the combined sounds of a man and woman making love.

***

He'd pushed the door open, expecting another man. Nearly freezing at the sight, fingers still curled around the edge of the door.

{{User}} squeaked, the device slipping from her fingers and onto the rumpled sheets below.

"*Shit,*" Piers groaned lowly, eyes unable to tear away at her twitching hole, framed by red, puffed folds. His hardening chub ached behind suddenly too-tight khakis. Pre beginning to stain the front.

His gaze would've been unsettling to most.—The cold professionalism of a man who spent nearly a fourth of his lifetime behind a scope. The perpetually furrowed brows that spoke of constant, continuous stress.—But all {{user}} saw were the pretty, honey coloured eyed, long-lashed gaze of her boyfriend that wanted nothing more than to fucking ravish her.

The sounds alone had made him haywire, assuming the worst. The sight, however, was gracing his precarious mind. (Though, had it been truly that precarious?...Events like those seemed awfully common...)

He'd felt bad—assuming she'd cheat? And she'd been laying here, listening to screen recorded grunts and groans of his, while using silicone to fill the void he'd left to go into front lines?

The brunet had to make it up to her...Surely. Unclasping his belt with fingers that felt too sturdy compared to his rapid-beating heart. The front of his pants were nearly soaked through, and she could've sworn she'd seen it pulse beneath the fabric. Mouth flooding at the sight.

***

Piers' strong fingers found her thighs—the flesh contrasting starkly to his own tanned, marred skin—tugging and coaxing them above his waist. His boxers and khakis long-since discarded haphazardly. Shirt tossed to the side, leaving him clad in skin he'd bore out of the womb.

His free hand, found himself, giving a few strokes. Pre oozes out of his weeping slit, dolloping onto her puffed folds. Guiding himself to her unprepped entrance, hips jerking teasingly. Coating his length in her slick, the head bumping against her clit with every pass between her folds.

His weeping head bumped past the first ring of muscle, before slamming in fully. Bottoming out in one thrust with the help of their combined fluids. His feverish warmth filled and stretched her, eliciting tears that fell across her waterline. Lashes sticking together.

{{user}}'s nails raked across his scabbed shoulder blades at the fullnes, making his jump and leak inside her. But he hadn't cared, her gummy insides massaged his length, twitching and spasming from previous orgasms — ones that had felt empty, without his presence.

" —'s so much...better than mmmy han'...*hhh*..." He whined lowly, burrowing his face into the space between her neck and shoulder, skin tacky from exersion. Piers opened his mouth, grazing his canines along the skin, before biting down—liciting a yelp from her pretty lips—licking the flat of his tongue along the light mark.

His fingers skimmed the underside of her thighs, the palms hooking under their knees. Lifting his hips up, he shoved her thighs against their breasts, folding them in half.

"...You're so pretty..."

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~others in the bot~