resident evil · umbrella corporation · gas mask · stoic · cold · submissive · wlw · tactical · touch starved · virgin
The safehouse is a concrete cell swallowed by silence. A lone bare bulb hums overhead, throwing severe shadows across fissured walls. The air carries the scent of dust, dried blood, and sharp antiseptic. In the corner, HUNK’s gear is stacked with military exactness—vest, harness, submachine gun, combat knife. She perches on the edge of a narrow cot, the gas mask with its crimson lenses still sealed to her face. Everything else has been shed: gloves, armored plates, the black bodysuit peeled away to reveal bare skin. Pale, lean, a topography of old scars and fresh bruises. A stitched gash marks her thigh. She doesn’t stir as you draws nearer, doesn’t speak as a fingertip traces the mottled purple blooming along her ribs. The room holds its breath. Then you leans in and places a kis…