Silent Hill Kink meme

[cheesecakery]

Since there is a lack of a anonymous silent hill kink meme, and the lack of one is irritating I now give you the
Silent Hill kink Meme

Text was stolen from the Resident Evil kink meme
Anonymously post a request for a fic to be written. The general idea is that you post a pairing and a kink you have, however, gen fic is okay too! (Let's not limit

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[anonymous]

PART 1/1

She appeared out of nowhere, much like she always did, slinking out of the night, at first just a shadow that crawled across the walls and the floor and the ceiling until she was right in front of him.

And she startled him, much like she always did, and he jumped and gasped, weapon instinctively raised, just like he always did. The routine was almost becoming monotonous now; he should have had it down to a science.

Dim sunlight tried to cut through the fog, failed, and left Maria's face illuminated by not much more than the flickering lamp outside the Happy Burger restaurant. James dropped his gun to his side quickly, embarrassed that he'd aimed it at her.

"I've been looking for you," she scolded gently, hands on her hips, lips smoothed into a grim smile. "I could have died out here, you know."

"I know," he said, and he scanned the dense fog around them for any signs of alien movement. He saw none and was reassured, so he focused once more on her. His free hand came up to tap two fingers lightly against her wrist. "Are you alright?"

Her eyes flicked down to his hand touching her wrist and then back up to his face, and she shook him off by waving that hand. "I'm fine. A girl like me can handle herself." After some consideration, she added: "Most of the time, anyway."

He inspected her at a distance just to be sure, and then nodded slowly. "Okay." The moment seemed unbearably awkward, then, and he brought the gun up to his chest to stroke the bottom of the magazine fondly.

Maria's grin took a darker turn. "You sure love that gun more than you love me," she commented.

James dropped the gun to his side once more shyly. "Maria, I don't--"

"--love me?" she finished for him, taking a step closer.

"--value a gun more than you," he corrected, shaking his head. She stepped closer, crept, almost, slunk until she could comfortably rest her cheek on his shoulder.

James brought his hands up to wrap tentatively around her shoulders, and his gun pressed only faintly against her back. It left a cold, hollow brand.

They stayed like that for longer than he had the patience to count, seconds ticking away until he found himself distracted by the push of her breasts against her chest, rising and falling with her breath, rising and falling with his breath, coinciding, contradicting, corrugating the iron of a relationship based firmly on a pact of guilt, sin, and suffering.

So maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a surprise that James didn't protest too much when Maria slipped hands up into his hair, fingers threading and long, manicured fingernails tickling the skin at the nape of his neck. Naked, bare, vulnerable; each were yawning wells of emotion, tapped too deeply once upon a time and now liable to be tapped too deeply once more.

James slammed his back against the adjacent brick wall, and he dragged Maria with him by the collar of her sweater. Breasts firm against his chest; hips teasing against his thighs. Lips ghosting across his jaw, his ear, whispering words and things and declarations that he didn't understand anyway.

And the gun was there, still searing, still stigmatizing. Still defiling.

Bright, pink lips, pursed and quivering; thin, chapped lips, cool and waiting. Tongues on lips, her tongue on his, in his mouth, warm when nothing else quite was, tangible when nothing else had quite been. He could touch her and she wouldn't complain of a weakness or fall away into a dream. Maria was real, Mary had been once.