#most terrifying disease I think

[artemisiatridentata]

did not have "getting vaccinated for rabies because a bat got into my car and flew into my leg" on my 2024 bingo card but here the fuck we are

[garciapimienta]

Just realized all my bios still say I’m 23 and now I want to throw up over the passage of time

[lcec0ldheart]

i like how as time goes on frost and citrine are gradually becoming more normal (ish, they’re still weirdos ofc) while violet stays weird because she’s just like that.

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[rowarn]

MONSTER (m.)

neighbor!simon riley x reader

tags: zombie apocalypse au, neighbors to lovers, afab!reader, no pronouns, hurt/comfort, smut, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

cw: description of corpses, simon is aggressive towards you, but also very soft!simon, protective!simon, violence, simon does murder someone, lots of kissing, wet&messy sex, multiple orgasms, edging (simon), missionary position, mating press, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, breast play, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names, eye contact, praise, teeny bit talkin u thru it

note: i think that's all the neccessary warnings but if u think smthn else should be added, let me know. please enjoy this MONSTER fic!!!

; you find yourself hiding out in your apartment as the undead begin walking. luckily, you have a well-trained military operative as a neighbor who is more than willing to keep you safe.

16.5k

“Residents are advised to remain in their homes. Authorities are unsure what is causing the severe aggression in people but the military has been called in nationwide. Please stay tuned as more information becomes available.” 

That was the first news broadcast. They reported  people getting sick-- airborne is what they had said. Stay inside, and stay away from other people. 

So you did just that – stayed hidden away in your apartment, glued to your television for every possible news cast that you could get. 

It was only a week later that the whole story had come out. 

The airborne strain is what caused the first swell of infections. Anyone who was susceptible to the infection would have already become sick by now. But those who were infected by the airborne strain turned…feral. They became like wild animals, barely human. Their skin rotted around them while they were still alive. Their brains died but their hearts remained pumping. They were walking corpses that had a vicious hunger for human flesh. 

The bites are what caused the following wave of infections. Something in their saliva turned you into whatever they were. 

You were scared. When you looked outside your window, down just a few floors to the ground, you could see hordes of people stumbling around, shuffling and shambling. 

Sometimes you would hide in your bathroom as the sounds of gunfire filled the city. It was the worst when it was the middle of the night. 

You weren’t equipped to deal with a disaster of this level – humans turning into disease spreading killers. You were having to ration your food, waiting for the day that there would be an announcement that it was safe. 

You wanted it all to be over. 

Then the news broadcasts stopped, cell service dropped, and the populace was left in the dark. 

You kept the lights off in your apartment, scared that the wandering hordes outside would see it and find you.

You had no idea how long you had been hiding in your apartment, spending most nights with your knees to your chest as you watched the static on the TV. You held out hope that the news broadcast would come back, but it never did. You spent the days and nights in mundane monotony, hopelessness settling in. 

The only interruption was a heavy knock on your front door, practically making you jump out of your skin at the sound of it. You hadn’t expected anyone to actually approach your apartment in search of you. It terrified you that anyone could be out there at a time like this.

With wide eyes and trembling hands, you grabbed a kitchen knife off of your counter and tiptoed towards the front door. Peeking through the peep-hole, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

Throwing the door open, you were faced with the familiar balaclava of your neighbor across the hall.

“Simon…” you whispered in relief. 

He wasn’t lunging nor did he have the milky-white eyes of the undead that you had seen on the news. He was normal. 

“What’re you planning to do with that?” he asked, eyeing the kitchen knife still in your hand.

“Oh!” you gasped, quickly placing it on the table by your front door, “Sorry, you– you– startled me when you knocked. Would you like to come in?”

His lidded, brown eyes gaze around your apartment behind you before landing on you again, “You have anyone else in there?”

You blink and slowly shake your head, “No, I’m alone.”

His brows furrow at that, “You’ve been by yourself this whole time?”

You shrug and nod, “What else was I supposed to do? The news reports said to stay inside…”

He hums, “Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine,” you respond quickly, “Why?”

Suddenly there’s a hand on your forehead and you realize he’s checking your temperature. You remain still and allow him to do it before he's shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. 

“Fever’s the first symptom,” he explains, “I’m goin’ door to door to check on everyone.”

“Oh!” you gasp, smiling, “That’s very nice of you, Simon.”

You knew that Simon was in the military. He was often out on long deployments and sometimes he had tasked you with keeping an eye on his apartment since you were right across the hall from him.

He was a nice enough guy, if not a little cold and blunt. He was tall and broad, clearly well built despite the fact that he usually wore a hoodie that hid his biceps from view. You’d gotten glimpses of his tattoos when you had knocked on his door one evening and asked him if he knew anything about water heaters because your hot water had been out for nearly a month in the dead of winter and the apartment manager hadn’t done anything to help you.

Simon had kindly come to your apartment, even though it was nearing midnight, rolled his sleeves up and fixed your problem within the hour. You had baked him cookies as a thank you that following weekend. 

“How is everyone doing..?” you venture to ask, leaning against the doorjamb as a breeze flows into your apartment from the open door.

He casts a glance down the hallway, almost like he’s thinking before sighing, “Few people are sick. They’ve been…” he hesitates for a moment, “Quarantined.”

“Probably for the best,” you respond, “Keep them from hurting anyone when they…turn.”

It feels so surreal to be talking about confining people to keep them from literally eating the healthy people. But it seems that’s where you’re all at now. 

“I’m going to barricade our floor,” he says suddenly, “Keep anyone from comin’ in that’s not supposed to come in.”

“What if we need to leave?” you ask, concerned, “We’re only going to have finite food and resources between us. The power’s also going to go out sooner rather than later, Simon.”

“I know,” he sighs, “But we should stay indoors for as long as possible. When the power runs out and we run out of supplies, we can figure out what to do next,” he explains, “The military was on the ground here last I heard, you’ve heard the gunshots. I don’t believe they’ll last much longer but it’s not wise for us to go out while they’re tryin’ to eliminate as many of these…undead as they can.”

“I guess that makes sense…” you whisper before his words finally settle on you, “What do you mean you don’t think they’ll last much longer..?”

He levels a hard stare at you that makes your heart race in anxiety. Simon was always a serious individual by nature but this is how you imagine he looks when he’s on duty, “Hundreds of thousands of people are sick out there. The airborne strain no doubt got to hundreds of the soldiers meant to be protecting the civilians. Eventually, they’ll eat each other from the inside out –literally.”

“You mean even the military is going to collapse..?” you ask, horrified. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes but Simon’s words fill you with a dreadful sense of hopelessness. 

“Communications are cut,” he says finally, “Radio’s been silent all day. Not sure what’s goin’ on but it’s not good.”

The tears quickly began to fall down your cheeks. Before you could wipe them away, a calloused thumb was doing it. You sniffled and looked up at him.

“I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you confessed softly, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive, Simon.”

“Don’t you worry about that, love,” he whispered, grabbing your chin gently to make you look up at him, “I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

“I don’t want to be a burden…” you explain, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I took care of you,” he joked, though it held little humor, “You won’t be a burden. I’ll teach you what you need to know, alright?”

“You will?” he nods when you look up at him hopefully and you smile, “Thank you, Simon. I don’t really want to die by getting eaten by walking corpses.”

He chuckled under his mask, brown eyes crinkling around the edges a bit, “It is pretty fuckin’ mad, isn’t it?” You laugh, the first genuine smile you’ve cracked since before that first news broadcast, “Why don’t you come across the hall and stay with me, yeah?”

“Is that okay..?” You can’t deny the idea of being with company sounded more appealing than anything. You were definitely beginning to feel the ebbs of loneliness creeping in on you as the days of silence passed. Plus, Simon was…safe, “The news said not to…mingle in case of the disease spreading.”

He scoffed, “Rules like that don’t really apply anymore, love,” he mutters softly, “Plus, neither of us is sick so it’s not like we’ll spread it anyway. I can teach you some knife work and how to use a gun easier if we’re together, yeah?”

“Okay,” you smile, excitement surging in your chest, replacing the painful void of hopelessness you had, “Let me just get some things together and I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Sounds good, love,” you can tell he’s smiling under the mask. He gives you a pat on the shoulder before stepping away, “Just knock when you’re ready.”

You stand in your doorway until he disappears into his apartment. Once you’re alone, you cast a cursory glance around your living room, eyeballing everything you need to take before you dash into your bedroom. From the back of your closet, you grab a duffle bag that you have stowed away in the back of your closet from when you first moved in.

Navigating in the dark of your apartment was a bit of a challenge but you managed to stuff all the essentials into the bag. After slinging it over your shoulder, you step out of your apartment, making sure it was locked before knocking on Simon’s door. 

He opened it quickly, still wearing the same hoodie, jeans, and balaclava as before – his hood still up as well. He stepped aside for you to enter.

Unlike you, his apartment was illuminated by lamps – but his windows were covered with blackout curtains so no light would seep outside. It was pretty plainly decorated, just the essentials and a few photographs on the walls; upon closer inspection it looked like him and, you assumed, his comrades. 

You went to place your bag down but he stopped you, “I cleared out a drawer for you to put your clothes in for the time bein’.”

“Oh…” you gaped at him, surprised to hear that he had done something like that for you, “Thank you, Simon.”

He led you to his bedroom, standing in the hallway while you walked in. His bedroom was darkly decorated, black out curtains on the windows, navy blue sheets and a black comforter on his bed. His furniture was all dark toned as well. 

It suited him, you thought.

There were two drawers open and empty, letting you know that those were yours for the taking. You knelt down and opened your duffle bag, carefully folding and placing your items inside. When you got to your undergarments, you cast a glance towards the door to find that he was no longer standing there. Breathing a sigh of relief, you quickly filled the top drawer with all of your delicates before closing the drawers and standing up. 

Flicking on the light to his en suite bathroom, you placed your toothbrush and toothpaste alongside his, the sight making you blush before you went to add your belongings into the shower as well. 

Realistically, you knew that the water was going to go out sooner or later but you planned to enjoy it for as long as you possibly could until then. 

When you ventured into the living room, Simon was in the kitchen, the cabinets open as he scanned over all of his belongings.

“Is something wrong..?” you asked softly.

“Thinkin’ of how to ration,” he replied quickly, “Have you got any stuff over at yours still?”

You nod your head, “It’s not much but I have some canned food and like...rice and stuff if you want that.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to consolidate all our supplies in the long run,” he explained, “You got your keys?”

“Yes!” you pull your keyring from your pocket and drop it into his open palm.

“I’ll be right back love, make yourself at home,” he gave you a gentle nudge towards the couch before leaving you there. 

You took a seat on the couch, realizing just how tired you were. You hadn’t realized how tense you’re been for so long on your own. Now that you were safe and with company, you could almost feel the tension sliding right off of you. You rested your head against the back of the couch and closed your eyes, intending to just rest your eyes and enjoy the peace you felt. 

You were startled awake by the sound of the door slamming shut. You nearly jumped out of your skin, wide eyes finding Simon’s who looked a little sheepish.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered, “Didn’t realize you’d be sleepin’.”

“Didn’t mean to…” you confess, standing up and stretching, watching Simon lug a bag of food into the kitchen.

“Haven’t been sleepin’ well?” he asked, his back to you as he began to stock up the cabinets. 

“Not really…” with a sigh, you lean back against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest, “I’ve been stressed about this whole situation.”

“It is…” he pauses in his words, placing a bag of dried beans into the cabinet, “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“Society is really collapsing around us, isn’t it?” you bravely ask, although you were scared to hear the answer.

“Yeah, darlin’,” his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it and that brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

“This is so fucked up,” you cry, burying your face in your hands, “Thank you, Simon. You didn’t have to offer to help me and I really owe you a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he closes the cabinet, the bag he brought finally empty before turning to you, “I’ll make sure you know everything you need to know to survive.”

“I doubt I’ll be as good as you,” you joke, a crooked, wobbly smile on your face. 

He steps forward and cups your chin, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “No one’s as good as me, sweetheart.”

You chuckle softly at his words. 

This is what you needed – someone by your side to keep you sane as society collapsed and everyone that you knew died. 

That night, you slept better than you had in days. Simon had given you his bed, offering to take the couch. You had argued, telling him that you couldn’t take his bed like that. 

“I’m up most nights anyway, love,” he had assured you, “At least someone around here can get a good night’s sleep in that bed.”

When you woke up, fully rested you might add, Simon was already awake, drinking some tea. You sat down beside him, enjoying a nice quiet morning.

“How do you feel about learnin’ some basics today, love?” he asked when he was cleaning his mug. 

“Sure!” you agreed, “I have to warn you though, I really know next to nothing…”

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, waving to you to follow him to the living room, “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you watched as he stood up and went to a closet in the hallway, pulling out an assortment of bags and carriers.

He placed them down beside the couch and took a seat next to you. “I think it’s best if we start with you gettin’ comfortable with the feeling of holding a weapon in your hands,” he explained, pulling out a knife bigger than any you’ve seen, “This is a hunting knife.”

He handed it towards you, his fingers confidently gripping the blade between two fingers. You wrapped your hand around the handle, testing its weight in your hands. It was dangerous and nerve-wracking, holding a weapon in your hands. 

“I know it’s scary,” he assured, “But when you’re comfortable holding knives then you can learn to use them properly to protect yourself.”

“What about guns..?” you find yourself asking, still gripping the knife in your hands, turning it over and adjusting your grip just to desensitize yourself to it. 

“We’ll tackle guns when you get used to knives,” he replied.

“So you have guns?” you ask, letting him pull the hunting knife from your hands.

“Of course I do,” he reaches into a bag by his feet, pulling out a pistol. 

Your eyes go wide as you watch him handle it effortlessly, checking the chamber and moving it around in his hands like it wasn’t a dangerous weapon.

“When you’re ready, I’ll teach you to properly use one so you can use it in case of an emergency,” he explained, placing the pistol on the table carefully.

“I’m going to have to kill other people…” you mutter to yourself.

Simon pulled out another knife, passing it into your hands, “Combat knife,” he supplied simply, “And you’ll have to kill them but…I don’t think they’re people anymore, love.”

“I guess that’s true…” you mutter, holding the knife with a firm grip, “I’ve only seen them on the news before it stopped broadcasting. What about you?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em in person either,” he replies with a shrug, “Some of my…teammates,” the words seem awkward coming from his mouth but he continued, “Were givin’ me some information before they went radio silent.”

“What happened to them?” you couldn’t help but ask.

A brief flash of sadness flashed over his eyes but he quickly sobered up, leaning back against the couch with a sigh, “Not a clue. I guess there’s no way for me to know. I just know it was getting bad. Dangerous.”

“I’m sorry about your teammates,” was all you could find in supply of an answer.

Simon didn’t respond, simply letting his gaze fall back on the knife, “Let me show you some handling techniques for you to practice.”

Realizing that he didn’t want to talk about the world outside anymore, you let him lead you through a crash course on knife handling and knife safety. He took the time to teach you the different kinds of knives in his possession and you nodded along as best you could but if you’re being honest – it was primarily lost on you.

You’re not sure if Simon knew that but he seemed to enjoy teaching you, so you let him ramble on to his heart’s content. 

By the end of the day, you were confident enough in at least not accidentally cutting yourself on the sharp blades. 

In order to repay him, you made dinner for the both of you – though, really, it was just some heated up canned soup-- and did the dishes for him so he didn’t have to.

By the end of the night, you both found yourselves on the couch, watching a movie he had put on. With there being no way to watch anything else, you were grateful he had a collection of movies to his name – you simply streamed your favorite shows and movies and called it a day. 

It ticked late into the night and before you knew it, you were falling asleep on the couch, leaned against his shoulder. You could feel him shift and knew you should open your eyes, but the tugs of sleep at the edges of your subconscious kept you from doing so. Suddenly, you felt the soft beat of his heart against your ear and the heavy weight of his arm laid across you. You briefly registered that you were now wrapped in his arms before the final tug of sleep pulled you under.

When you woke up, you were in bed. 

And Simon wasn’t in the apartment. 

“Simon..?” you called, looking around everywhere for him – to no avail. 

You ventured to the door, carefully pulling it open and stepping out. You looked down the hall towards the stairwell before you heard a grunt of effort from the other end. 

“Simon!” you called, making him look up.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, pausing in his task of pushing a large bookcase towards the elevator. 

“You weren’t inside…” you mutter, wandering down the hall towards him, “What’re you doing?”

“Barricading this elevator,” he replied, giving the heavy object another push with a grunt of effort. 

“Oh, right, you mentioned you wanted to do that,” you mumbled, taking a moment to look over him.

He wasn’t wearing his hoodie for once, instead wearing a tight black t-shirt that was sticking to his skin with sweat. He wore his jeans with a holster and gun on his hip as well. 

“Do you need any help?” you asked but he shook his head.

“No, you can’t help with this, love,” he grunted, giving the bookcase one final, heavy push before it was flush against the elevator doors. 

It was then that you noticed the straps nailed to the wall. He took them and secured them to the other side of the elevators, making sure the bookcase was fastened firmly. 

“Enough people push this and it’ll come down but at least it’s secure enough,” he explained, giving his work a final once over.

“Do you know where the others are?” you find yourself asking as he makes his way to the other end of the hallway

He pauses at that, seemingly thinking of his next words carefully, “I checked door to door. Most of our neighbors got the hell out to go see their families when everything went to shit. A few…were sick and turned in their apartments so I had to…put them down.”

You cringed at his wording, you knew he was trying to phrase it delicately for you but you weren’t sure if you would have preferred him to just say he killed them. ‘Put them down’ made it sound like they were rabid dogs and not people you once knew and smiled at in the halls. 

“Found some notes in some of them,” Simon said suddenly, waving you to follow him back to the apartment – to safety, “Guess we can only hope they made it to their families in one piece.”

“I hope so,” you muttered optimistically, slipping past him when he opened the front door for you.

You quickly realize how difficult it is to tell how much time is passing with Simon’s blackout curtains, which he refused to allow you to open for fear of attracting any unwanted attention. With there being no more news broadcasts or anything on TV, you didn’t even know the date anymore and you were too scared to ask for fear of knowing how long you’ve been living like this. Your food rations were slowly dwindling but neither of you talked about it. 

You know you’re still waking up in the mornings and sleeping at night – Simon seems to run on an extremely specific schedule. When you asked him about it, he told you it was from the military, which made sense. Either way, you were grateful to him for helping you keep on track.

The water and power were both still on, but Simon kept telling you not to keep your hopes up about it lasting long. 

You spent your days learning knife etiquette and practicing stabbing various targets that Simon made for you. You’ve grown much more confident. Of course, you would be no match for your teacher himself but against a bumbling walking corpse? You were sure you would be able to at least buy yourself time to escape if you needed. 

Eventually, Simon decided it was time to move onto what you were most scared of – guns. 

“I’m going to tell you a few things before I let you hold this,” he said, eyes hardened to show how serious he was as he held a pistol in his hands, “Are you paying attention?”

“Of course,” you breathe, wringing your hands in front of you as you eye the weapon.

“You can’t be scared of your weapons,” he advises, “You need to be confident and sure with every movement you make. It’s not a toy.”

“Hard not to be scared of it…” you confess, “What if I hurt someone with it or…I don’t know.”

“That’s why I’m teaching you all this,” he says, “You’ll get confident and less scared the more you handle them. We’re startin’ you off simple and you can build up to bigger and badder guns. For now…pistols will do.”

“Okay,” you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Tell me what I need to know.”

“That’s the spirit,” he praises, holding the pistol up for you to see how he grips it, “First, never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re going to shoot. Just rest your finger on the side like this, see,” he turns his hand and lets you see the way he keeps his finger hovering beside the trigger rather than on it. 

You nod your head, “Got it.”

“Take it,” he says, “Carefully.”

You stare at the offered weapon for just a moment before you reach out and delicately take it from his hands, “Next, never point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Whether it’s loaded or not, keep it pointed away from people and yourself.”

You mimic his grip, grimacing when you realize it's actually much heavier than you thought it would be. It was definitely going to take practice before you built up the ability to hold it for long periods. You follow his instructions and keep it pointed to the ground – albeit awkwardly.

“Here,” he suddenly steps behind you.

You feel your heart catch in your chest when you feel him press against your back. He’s incredibly warm and firm as you lean against him. He carefully takes your hands in his, supporting your hands and holding the gun eye level.

“Just practice lining up your sight and lookin at a target,” he says.

His face is so close to yours, his voice right in your ear, deep and gravelly with that heavy accent. You struggle to process his words, hoping to god he doesn’t hear how fast your heart has started racing.

You close one eye and focus on aiming at a photo on his wall, a small picture frame. His large, gloved hands dwarf your own and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him. He smells like cigarettes and the body wash you may have taken a quick whiff of when you used his shower for the first time. You find yourself wondering when he has time to smoke since you’ve never actually seen him do it. 

Your mind is blank beyond anything other than him. How big and warm he is, how safe you feel with him wrapped around you, how good he smells and how much you love his voice as he utters tips and commands into your ear – sickly sweet in that way he always seems to talk to you. 

If you focused too much on it, you’d slowly come to the realization that you may have a crush on him. But you quickly dash that thought from your head and focus back on his gun lesson as he teaches you how to eject a magazine with ease. 

This is about survival. Neither of you have time to dwell on a silly crush. 

A few days later, you’re standing in the eerie hallway with him. He had offered for you to just stay in the apartment and relax while he did the work but you honestly didn’t want to be alone so you opted to sit with him as he worked.

Your back was against the wall, sipping a cup of instant coffee you had made. Simon was silent as he worked on barricading the door to the stairwell. You both agreed that it was best if it was still accessible just in case something happened, but you didn’t want any unnecessary visitors making their way into the safe little haven you’ve both made for yourselves.

“We should think about looting the empty apartments,” you said suddenly, trying to keep your eyes off of his bulging biceps as he yanked on a strap that was attached to the doorknob to keep the door from being opened. 

“That’s a good idea,” he grunted, stepping back to admire his handiwork when he finally finished testing its durability, “Let’s do it.”

He offered his hand and you smiled, taking it and letting him pull you to your feet. You brushed off imaginary dust in an effort to hide how flustered just holding his hand for that brief second made you. 

You started at the other end of the hallway from your shared apartment. Simon displayed a disturbing aptitude for opening up very locked doors. You chose not to comment on it, instead silently being thankful that he was able to do it at all. 

��How about we make a loot pile in the hallway so we can bring it all inside when we’re ready?” you suggest.

“Alright,” he responds, eyes scanning over the cabinets in the kitchen, “Food is our main priority but it wouldn’t hurt to have some medical supplies.”

You agreed and started helping him pick things out, filling your arms full of canned goods and pill bottles which you then deposited in the hallway by your apartment. 

The two of you made it through a handful of apartments, securing a nice resource pile for the two of you. You were feeling good, hopeful, as you stared at your future right there in the silent hallway.

It wasn’t until you opened one in particular— it belonged to a shy, college kid, you remember— that it seems everything changes for you. He couldn’t have been but 18, away from home for the first time and living in his first apartment on his own. 

Simon is busy looting the kitchen, you can hear him placing cans on the counter, consolidating whatever it is he chooses to bring with him. You check the bedroom, looking through the drawers and pocketing a bottle of aspirin and nausea medication before you move to the bathroom. 

The second you push open the door, you’re met with the force of another person shoving into you. You cry out as you hit the ground, the person falling on top of you. You panic and scramble out from under them, their coughing and wheezing forcing you to look at them. 

It’s the kid who lives there. He’s deathly pale, dark circles under his eyes which are bloodshot. His lips are crusty and dry, seemingly struggling with finding something to say.

“Pl-” he starts to whisper before you see movement in the corner of your eye.

“Simon, wait!” you cry when you see the knife.

But it’s too late, the hunting knife you had held with your own two hands more times than you could count, is embedded in the kids skull, spraying blood all over you. All you can do is make a pathetic squeak, fear and panic rendering you unable to say anything as you watch his now lifeless body flop onto the ground beside you, his still warm blood soaking into your clothes as it runs out of the gaping hole in his head.

“The fuck were you thinkin’?!” Simon suddenly shouts, storming over to you and yanking you to your feet roughly.

You stumble up, bumping into him as you stare at the dead body on the floor, “He..He was alive…I…”

“He was sick!” Simon snarls, roughly wrapping his hand around your throat, forcing you to look at him. There was a fire in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, making you cower, “You’re lucky he didn’t bite you! Fuckin’ hell, are you stupid?!”

“H-He was talking, he was just sick, Simon!” you argued, tears filling  your eyes as you stared up at him, “W-We could have given him medicine, could have–”

“He was a dead man walking,” he shouts, the volume making you flinch, “He was going to turn. Are you a fuckin’ idiot? Thinkin’ we could save him?”

The tears you were holding fell down your cheeks at his cruel words and you glared up at him, “I-I’m not stupid, I just…h-he talked to me!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Simon’s eyes narrow, “He was a threat. A liability. Don’t fuckin’ worry about him, worry about yourself.”

He releases you with a rough shove, taking out some of his anger on you. He continues to glare at you for a long minute before turning his back on you and stalking out of the room, muttering about how stupid it was that you could have killed yourself over some random kid. 

Your eyes fall on said kid, no more blood coming from the wound, simply coagulating on the floor around him, “Y-You’re a monster.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, quiet and shaky. But Simon hears them clear, freezing on the other side of the doorway, in the hall. 

“I’m a monster..?” he asks, voice suddenly eerily calm. He turns around, his large body taking up an obscene amount of the doorway. You can tell he’s intentionally trying to intimidate you, a punishment that makes your cheeks heat up in anger, “I’ve been breakin’ my back to keep your stupid ass alive and I’m a monster? Because I put down some fucker that was gonna turn rabid in a day?” he glares at you, squinting through the mask and drawing his dark eyebrows together, “You think it’s easy for me? I’m doin’ everything I can to keep you safe!” he shouts so loud that your ears ring and you flinch from the sound alone, “But if you can’t appreciate that then maybe you should be on your fuckin’ own and see how long it takes before you’re ripped apart by those feral bastards!”

He storms off at that, loudly slamming the front door, indicating his final exit from the apartment. You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks only for more to replace them and you sniffle, casting a sorrowful glance at the dead kid before creeping out of the apartment yourself.

Simon is nowhere in the hall but the supplies you both gathered are still there. 

You carefully open the door to Simon’s apartment and peek inside, finding it completely silent and still. You’re not sure where he went but you decide to busy yourself with loading all your looted items into the kitchen and sorting them all for when he returns.

You’re not sure how long you take to finish but Simon still isn’t back and you become worried.

He had said you should be on your own but surely he didn’t actually just leave the building, did he?

You wander over to his supplies and find a handful of his weapons gone. Your heart shoots into your throat and more tears prick at your eyes before you’re dashing out of the apartment once again.

The door to the stairwell is no longer held shut, indicating that Simon had, in fact, gone that way. You curse yourself. If you had checked sooner then he would have at least been somewhere close but if he really left, he would be long out of the building by now. 

You creep towards the door and slowly push it open. You hadn’t even left the floor since before this whole thing started. It was eerily quiet, but if you listened close you could hear some muffled shuffling from somewhere. 

You crept out, quickly realizing how dark it was. You pulled out your keychain which held a tiny flashlight that you used to navigate when it was dark in the apartment. 

You crept down the stairs, holding your breath with every step until you finally reached the floor below you. You can hear muffled sounds from beyond the door and slowly push it open, flashing the light down the hallway. 

It's too small and weak to penetrate the stifling darkness. The power was not on on this floor for some reason and that immediately set you on edge. You could still hear some shuffling and strange, raspy noises from within the darkness. 

“Simon..?” you call into the impenetrable, oppressive darkness. The noises stop for a moment and you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Simon?” you call again, louder.

The noises return, shuffling, heavy footsteps advance on you. You strain your eyes to see past the weak illumination that your flashlight provides. You’re breathing heavily, you realize, anxiety making your lungs feel constricted as the footsteps get closer and closer.

All of the sudden, a disgusting, rotted face appears in your sights, arms outstretched towards you. You scream out in unbridled terror as it grabs you, its bony, sickening fingers latching onto your shoulders. You attempt to push it away and run but you trip over your own two feet in your panic. Your flashlight flies out of sight, its dim illumination casting down the hallway, leaving you to push at the undead corpse as it collapses on top of you. Its weight is more than you thought it would be, leaving your arms trembling as you struggle to keep it from falling on top of you. It fights your resistance and chomps its disgusting teeth at your face, attempting to get a bite out of your flesh. 

It reeks, you realize, like the smell of a dead animal you pass by on the street. It makes your stomach turn and you fear you’re going to throw up from the smell alone. The rotting skin of its chest slips and pulls away from the bone and muscle and you gag, tears coming to your eyes as you realize the very real and terrifying danger you’re in.

You have no way to get out of this. 

As you look down the hall, where the light barely pierced the inky depths, you can see more figures emerging from further down the hall, shuffling and rasping in interest at your fight with the one on top of you.

Tears fall down your temples and a sob bursts from your chest as you slowly come to terms that this is how you’re going to die. You can’t hold the sheer weight of the undead above you for much longer.

“S-Simon…” you call out, weak and strained. You know even if he’s nearby he won’t hear you. You have to try harder, get your voice out, shout for him. You swallow around your tears and panic, taking a full breath before shouting, “Simon! Please! Simon, help me!”

You don’t even register the door opening behind you. But you do notice when the weight of the corpse is gone, a knife stabbing into its skull before a large hand grabs you by the back of the shirt and drags you back into the stairwell. The undead follow after you, slamming themselves against the door as soon as it slams closed. 

You’re trembling and unable to blink or breathe as the shock of what just happened washes over you. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Simon all but screams, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, dragging you onto unsteady feet that can’t hold you up before slamming you against the wall. You can still hear those zombies slamming against the door. Your ears are ringing and you barely register Simon shouting at you. 

He shakes you and it finally draws your attention to him. His eyes are wide, irises darting back and forth over your face. He doesn’t look nearly as angry as you would expect. Instead he looks…concerned. Scared.

“Simon…” you whisper, the tears not stopping as they fall down your cheeks. He’s the only thing holding you up right now, hands balled in the material of your shirt, keeping you pinned to the wall, “I-I was…I was looking for you…”

He’s panting, shoulders rising and falling as he struggles to compose himself, “Lookin’ for me?”

“Y-You said you were leaving and I…” you whimper, “I-I didn’t want you to go so…I went to find you…I didn’t think that…”

You see his jaw tense through his mask before he slowly lets go of your shirt. Your knees tremble under your own weight and your hands find purchase against his chest.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he mutters, stepping away from you with a heavy sigh, “Just don’t…do that again, got it?”

You nod your head, sniffling as you feel your tears slowly come to a stop, “Th-Thank you, Simon…for saving me…”

“Yeah,” he grunts, turning his back to you, storming back up the stairs to your floor. 

You unsteadily follow behind him, still a shaky and anxious mess. When you get into the apartment, Simon is in the kitchen, barely sparing you a glance.

“Go take a shower,” he orders you.

You linger in the doorway for a moment, hoping that he’ll look at you even for a second. But he doesn’t and you hang your head, skulking off to take your shower with a heavy heart. 

The night rolls around and Simon hasn’t said a word, putting you more on edge with each passing minute. He sits, manspreading on the couch with a glass of Kentucky bourbon in a glass, sipping on it and watching some old movie that he put on play. Usually, he asks you if you’d like to watch with him, but this time he didn’t and that just makes your heart ache even more. 

“Simon…” you venture to ask, casting a glance at him. His hard gaze doesn’t move from the TV, “I-I want to apologize–”

“For what?” he asks, the first words he’s spoken to you in hours. They’re cold and make you wince.

“F-For what I said…” you mutter, tucking your legs underneath you as you turn to look at him, “I…I was mean. I know you’re doing all you can for me and it wasn’t fair of me to get angry at you…I was just…startled, I guess.”

“You were naive,” he snaps, finally looking at you with a harsh glare, “You had no fuckin’ idea what those monsters were and you almost got yourself killed because of it.”

“Y-You’re right…” you whisper, feeling the tears pricking your eyes for the millionth time that day, “I’m sorry, Simon.”

He doesn’t respond, simply throwing back his glass of bourbon, downing it all before he stands up, “Sleep on the couch.”

The last thing you hear from him is his bedroom door slamming shut. You lay down that night, quietly crying into the pillow until you finally fell back asleep.

“Wake up!” a barking voice is what draws you out of your slumber. 

Still shaken up from yesterday’s previous events, you sit straight up, wild, fearful eyes looking around before your gaze falls upon Simon. He stands in front of the couch, dressed in full tactical gear. Even his balaclava is different, with a hard plate in the shape of a skull covering the front. He looks intimidating.

“Wh-What’re you doing?” you ask, turning yourself so your feet are on the floor. 

“We’re trainin’, get up,” he commands and you have no choice but to follow.

You find yourself following him out of the apartment and into the dimly lit hallway. It’s eerily quiet as always and you feel more intimidated than ever standing before him in nothing but some flimsy pajamas while he wears full gear. Even his gaze is different through that skull mask, hard and cold, looking down at you like you’re insignificant. 

It’s so different from before. He was so kind and patient with you before and you can tell that now he’s going to really train you. 

“What’re we doing today..?” you timidly ask, wringing your hands in front of yourself.

“Escaping,” he responds.

“Escaping?” you parrot back dumbly. 

His glare narrows down at you, “You’re going to try to get away from me and make it towards that exit.”

He points to the other end of the hallway, to the stairwell. You glance up at him, where he stands between you and your exit. 

“Okay…” you lick your lips nervously, “Do you want me to just run past you?”

“For now,” he drawls. He sounds almost bored, hands wrapped around the straps of his tactical vest.

You take a deep breath and attempt to bolt past him but his reflexes are frighteningly fast. His arm shoots out before you even realize it, catching you around your middle and halting you immediately. 

The air is punched out of your lungs from the force of his arms and you stumble back with a groan. 

“You’re goin’ to have to do better than that,” he says, looking down his nose at you like you had offended him with your poor attempt. 

You brace yourself again and attempt to run past him. This time, you attempt to fake him out and run in the other direction but it ends the same with his arm grappling around your middle and you still not any closer to the exit.

“Again!” he barks and you can’t help but wonder if this was how he was when he was training recruits in the military. 

You try again and again to run past him, duck under his arm, avoid his reach – everything to no avail. After several attempts, you’re left panting and frustrated. Simon is still as cool as a cucumber, staring at you in pure boredom as he awaits your next move. 

You run again, making rough contact with his arm once again. But this time you start fighting against his hold. You push with all your might, shoving at his arm and his side in an attempt to slip past him. 

“There you go,” he says, though it sounds more condescending than proud, “Fight me.”

You slam your fist down over his arm, successfully knocking it out of the way and giving you a chance to bolt past him. You have a clear view of the stairwell door and you can almost taste the success. 

But you’re stopped suddenly when a rough hand grabs the back of your shirt. You cry out in shock when he yanks you back towards him, carelessly tossing you to the floor. You hit the rough carpet harshly, the coarse material skinning your hands and knees and you cry out at the pain.

“Simon!” you chastise him, glaring up at him when he comes to stand in front of you, “That fucking hurt!”

“Oh, it hurt?” he sneers, squatting beside you, behemoth form still dwarfing your own as he gets down on your level, “It’s not supposed to feel good. This is training. You’re supposed to try and survive, not whine and cry because you fell on the floor.”

You sit on your burning knees and glare at him. He glares back at you, neither of you backing down. 

“Get up,” he commands, standing up, “Go again.”

By the time he allowed the training to be called off, your body was sore and bruised from the amount of times you’d been thrown to the floor. Your knees burn and ache from where the skin had been rubbed off and you fight back tears as you watch the dried blood crust on your skin. 

Simon is no more rough for wear than he was before – all your hitting, kicking, pushing, and biting hadn’t deterred him in the slightest. He wasn’t even winded. 

Worse more, you hadn’t made it anywhere near the door. 

You weren’t sure how Simon felt about it. If he was mad or disappointed, he didn’t say. As soon as you got into the apartment, he went about making dinner after ordering you to wash up. 

When you got out of the shower, he tossed a first aid kit to you and silently sat down in the kitchen to eat. 

Usually, you would sit with him but you found yourself deciding to eat on the couch by yourself. A sense of loneliness settled upon you that you hadn’t felt since before you had moved into this apartment with him and you find yourself hiding your tears in your food. 

Once again, you’re sleeping on the couch. You wouldn’t have minded it if it didn’t feel so much like a punishment. You felt like a dog banished to sleep in the dog house and you can’t help but curl in on yourself at the cold, empty feeling that it causes. 

The next morning follows much the same with Simon startling you awake with a barked order. Your body aches and your wounds sting with every movement you make as you drag yourself behind him to the hallway.

“Do we have to do this again today, Simon?” you ask hopelessly, “I’m really tired…”

“Do you think those undead freaks are going to care if you’re tired?” he snaps at you, arms crossed, making him appear even bigger than he already was, “You’re goin’ to learn how to escape from holds.”

“Simon…” you start to complain but a sharp look from him has the words dying on your tongue and you hand your head in defeat. 

He’s no more gentle than he was yesterday with you, rough grips and manhandling you around to fit his needs. He barks in your ear, ordering what you need to do and when to break various holds that he has on your body. 

He feels so much stronger and more powerful than those zombies had. At least they were mindless and slow. Simon was fast and smart. 

“Put your hand under mine to break the hold!” he shouts, clearly frustrated the more you fuck up breaking his holds. 

“Not like that! Are you daft?” he grits through clenched teeth, “You’re goin’ to fuckin wind up dead if you keep this up!”

You feel your heart rate speed up and you find yourself almost panicking under his completely oppressive energy. His shouting only sets you more on edge and the tears begin to prick at your eyes once again. 

“None of those fuckin’ tears,” he snarls, tightening his hold on you when you squirm and attempt to rid his body weight off of yours, “Do what I told you! You can break the hold if you just fuckin’ focus!”

“Simon, I-I don’t want to do this anymore!” you cry, the tears tumbling down your cheeks as you cry out the words. Your cheeks feel hot and you can barely catch your breath as you weakly punch at his chest.

“There’s no tappin’ out,” he snaps, tightening his grip on you even more. Your body aches where he holds and you know you’re going to be feeling those bruises for days to come. 

“Simon!” you practically screech, freeing one hand and harshly slamming your fist down over the hard faceplate. 

It seems to startle him enough into loosening his hold and you manage to kick back away from him in your panic, foot hitting him square in the chest in an effort to propel yourself away – putting as much distance as fast as you can between the two of you.

“Simon…” you whimper, voice wobbling, “I am not one of your soldiers. You need to stop trying to train me like I am!”

You watch him adjust his jaw through his mask before he pops his neck. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you and every hair on your body stands up in pure fear. 

He’s on top of you before you even have the chance to say another word. You cry out when the force of his body forces you back and your head cracks harshly against the floor. Your vision blacks out from the force and you groan in pain but he doesn’t stop, a rough forearm pinning against your throat, cutting off your air.

“That was good,” he says, voice cold and devoid of any emotion, “You managed to escape, now do it again!”

Your hands push weakly against him, but you’re worn out and your head is starting to hurt like hell. You open your mouth to say something but his hold on your throat ceases any words from escaping. 

You reach up to his face and his cold gaze narrows at you, “You already tried that. It won’t work again.”

But instead of hitting him, your fingers wrap around the face plate and you attempt to push it off – hoping that it’ll obscure his vision enough but he shakes you off with ease. 

He catches your gaze and what he sees gives him pause. Wide, teary eyes, red rimmed and filled to the brim with fear. Tears wet your cheeks and he finally notices the way your entire body is tense and trembling beneath him. 

“P-Please,” you finally find your voice when his weight eases a bit off of your throat, “I-I don’t want to do this anymore, Simon, please.”

That has his own eyes widening and you take his slackened hold as an opportunity to run away. He watches you scramble up from your spot on the floor and stumble back to the apartment, disappearing within with a slam that makes him flinch. He looks down at his own hands and finds that he can’t conjure up any thoughts that aren’t about you.

You hear him enter the apartment, his heavy footfalls pacing around the living room. You’re hiding in the bathroom, leaning against the door with your knees against your chest to muffle your cries. 

He enters the bedroom and pauses, no doubt looking for you before he approaches the bathroom and you feel a brief ping of fear that he’s going to open the door but instead he softly knocks. 

“Will you come out so we can talk?” he asks, voice holding none of the cold, harshness that it had for the last few days. 

“G-Go away, Simon,” you sniffle.

You can hear him sigh before he follows your request and steps away from the door. You can hear him linger in the bedroom for several more minutes, kicking his boots off before he’s quietly closing the bedroom door and leaving. 

The silence and loneliness sinks in once more and you find yourself sobbing into your knees all over again. Your head kills and you feel almost nauseous through your cries from the headache but you can’t stop yourself. 

You have no idea how long you cry for but before you know it, the bedroom door opens once again and you can hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he approaches the bathroom door once again.

“I made something for you to eat,” he says through the door, “Figured you might be hungry.” At the idea of food, your stomach growls, “It’ll be waiting for you at the table when you want it.”

You listen to him walk away and you know this is his way of luring you out of the bathroom. Part of you desperately wants to spite him for being so mean to you and refuse his food but the growling in your stomach is too much to bear and you can’t help but clamber to your feet and quietly pull the door open. 

When you reach the living room, Simon is facing the TV, giving no indication that he realizes you’ve come out of your hiding place. You sneak into the kitchen to see a bowl of soup sitting nicely at an empty spot. You take a seat and quickly devour the entire bowl, barely taking a break to breathe before it’s completely empty. 

You place it in the sink and carefully sneak back out of the kitchen, intending to slide right past him but in your haste you fail to notice that he’s no longer sitting on the couch. Instead, you come face to face with him sitting at the foot of his bed, clearly waiting for you. 

You freeze when you see him and all too soon that headache comes racing back to the forefront of your mind. 

Simon’s no longer wearing the skull plate and instead wears his usual black balaclava with the skull print on it. He wears a t-shirt and sweatpants, obviously having let himself get comfortable while you hid in the bathroom earlier. 

He looks up at you the second you step into the room and the two of you halt in a stalemate, simply staring at one another while you wait for the other to make the first move. 

You’re the first to break eye contact when a heavy throb goes through your head, making you close your eyes and bring your hand to your head until it passes. You hear the bed creak when Simon stands up before his hands are cupping your cheeks.

“You hit your head, didn’t you?” he asks, soft and gentle. 

You can’t stop yourself from glaring and snapping, “No thanks to you.”

His gaze softens as his hand finds its way to the back of your head, ever so softly prodding at the sizable bump that’s there, “I’m sorry, love.”

“If you’re sorry then why did you do it?” you find those damned tears returning all over again as you continue to glare up at him, “I told you I didn’t like it and I wanted to stop.”

“I know…” he whispers, hands once again cupping your cheeks, thumbing your tears away.

“What was your problem, Simon?” you tearfully ask, sniffling pathetically, “You hurt me. You were scary – scarier than those stupid zombies downstairs. Why did you do that?”

“I got…I was…” he struggled to find the right words before he stepped away from you with a troubled expression, “I was angry— scared. I just—I don’t know.”

“You were scared?” you scoff, “I’m the one who got attacked.”

“You think that wasn’t scary for me?” he asks in disbelief, “You almost got eaten alive on my watch.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” you sniffle, angrily storming over to the bed, letting yourself flop down on the comfortable mattress for the first time in days.

“I know,” he whispers, “Just let me explain, okay?”

You lay there silently, listening to his weight shift where he stands. You take notice of how his scent lingers much more on the blankets now that he’s slept on it. It smells good, you note, musky and delicate. He doesn’t wear anything that smells particularly overpowering. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “Ever since this shit happened, I’ve been driving myself crazy. I lost contact with my team, my friends. I’m not able to get anymore information on what's goin’ on outside. I’m worried about you, I’m trying my hardest to make sure you can go out there and survive on your own if you need to. I feel like I’m going crazy and I’m scared because I’ve never felt this out of control before.”

You sit up and turn to face him, “How long have you been feeling like this, Simon..?”

“A while,” he mutters, turning his back on you when your gaze starts to feel like too much, “And then you called me a monster and I just…” he trails off, seemingly unsure of how to explain his feelings properly.

“I’m sorry for that, Simon,” you mutter sincerely, reaching out to grab his arm, urging him to turn around, “I never should have said that. And I didn’t mean it, really.”

“Well, you were right, weren’t you?” he scoffs, “I am a monster. Fuck, look at what I did to you – how I treated you. I was punishing you and I never should have.”

“We both made mistakes,” you compromise with a wobbly smile, “We’re dealing with a lot, right? The fucking world is ending and we’ve been trapped in this godforsaken building for who knows how long. It’ll get easier.”

He stares at you for a long moment, lashes fluttering as his gaze softens. You can’t find it in yourself to break eye contact. After a long moment, he seems to decide on something before reaching up and yanking the mask covering his face off. 

You feel your breath halt in your chest as your eyes widen, taking in every inch of his newly revealed face. His soft, brown eyes are a juxtaposition to the rest of his ruggedly handsome face. You stand up, never letting your eyes stray from him, a feeling of pure awe coming over you.

“You’re so handsome, Si,” you whisper, reaching forward to brush your fingers over a scar that cuts through his eyebrow to his eyelid, “It’s nice to finally see you.”

“I wanted you to see the real me,” he whispers, “Not the asshole soldier I was.”

“I’m glad you’ve trusted me with this,” you let your fingers wander along his skin, feeling the stubble on his jaw that he hadn’t yet shaved. 

“I need to tell you,” he sounds breathy, reaching up and catching your hand in his, pressing your palm flat against his cheek, “I was so scared when I heard you callin’ for me. I thought I was goin’ to be too late and I’d watch you die. I was terrified that I would lose you.”

“Simon…” you whisper in awe, watching how his soft, brown eyes display every tumultuous emotion that he experiences, “I’m sorry. I won’t do anything to worry you again.”

“I want you by my side for as long as you’re able,” he whispers, throat moving as he swallows.

“I won’t go anywhere,” you agree, stepping closer to him, “I promise.”

He leans in at the same time as you, meeting you for a sweet, tender kiss. It lasts only a second before you’re both pulling back to look in each other's eyes. Then, you’re both surging forward for a hungry, heated kiss. 

His hands grip your waist, squeezing there as he deepens the kiss. You whimper under his touch, standing on your tip-toes to match the intensity of his kiss. 

He moves you backwards, your knees hitting the edge of the bed, causing you to topple down. Simon follows, catching himself on his hands on either side of your head. He only breaks the kiss for a moment to move you further up the bed, easily manhandling you so your head is in the pillows before he’s kissing you all over again.

His hands are rough as they travel over your body, slipping your shirt up just enough to let him touch your bare sides. You quickly realize you’re still wearing your sleep clothes and that you don’t have a bra on. 

Clearly, Simon was aware because his hand quickly cups your bare breast with a rough, callused hand. His thumb finds your nipple, flicking over the bud as you whine into his mouth. 

He pulls back suddenly, cheeks flushed before he’s fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up, sweetheart,” he coos, sickly sweet. 

You follow his orders and eagerly lift your arms up for him to tug the fabric of your shirt over your head. Once your breasts are bared to him, he’s leaning down to wrap his lips around one perked nipple while his fingers busy themselves with the other.

You cry out at the feeling of his teeth nipping at the sensitive bud, hands tangling in his soft, curly hair. He groans against your breast at the feeling of your pulling at his hair before he pulls back just a bit, breathlessly whispering, “Such perfect tits.”

“Simon…” you whimper, letting yourself relax into the bed as he switches to mouth at your other nipple, leaving the other to harden in the cool air before his hand travels down your stomach to your shorts, easily slipping underneath the fabric.

“Simon!” you call out again when you feel the heat of his hand cup your folds through your panties. 

“Shh, just let me do the work, love,” he mumbled, muffled by the fact he refuses to part from suckling on your nipple. 

His tongue drags over your breast, nipping and sucking marks into your skin. As he works the muscle, his hand in your panties remains stationary, just letting you feel the heat of it against your core. The teasing presence only makes you pulse and drool into your panties. You’re positive the fabric must be sticking to you by now from how wet you’ve become from playing with your breasts. 

“Your tits are so sensitive,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Does it feel good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, arching your back to offer up your chest to him all over again.

He grins, a crooked little smile that makes your heart flutter. It was so nice to finally see him smile. 

But instead of mouthing at your breasts again, he leans back on his heels and pulls his hand from your panties. You whine at the loss but it’s cut short when he hooks his fingers into them and tugs them down your legs. You lift your hips to assist him but find yourself wincing when an ache goes through your body.

He notices and gently runs the palm of his hands up your thighs, urging you to relax.

“You sore, love?” he asks, voice filled with what you can only call guilt.

“A little…” you admit, biting your lip, “My thighs are killing me, actually.”

He shakes his head at himself and leans down, pressing a kiss next to the scrape on one of your knees as his hands slowly begin to knead the sore muscles in your thighs. You sigh and let your eyes flutter at the feeling. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t realize he leans down until you feel a hot, wet tongue slide from your pubic bone to your sternum. Your cunt clenches pathetically at the feeling. When you open your eyes, Simon’s pretty, brown eyes are half-lidded and his tongue hangs out of his mouth. You can’t resist cupping the back of his head and pulling him for a kiss, whimpering and moaning against his mouth.

“Fingers or tongue?” he asks, muffled and messy against your lips. 

“What?” your hazy mind can’t quite comprehend what he’s asking of you.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?” he reiterates, “I want to make you cum.”

You whimper at that, “B-Both!”

He scoffs, full brows furrowing, “Greedy.”

You find yourself blushing at that but he doesn’t deny your request. He sinks down your body, peppering kisses down your body on the way until he kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

He grabs your hips and effortlessly yanks you down so your legs hang off the edge of the bed. 

He spreads your thighs apart and you find yourself holding your breath, watching through your lashes as he trails kisses up your thigh, getting closer to where you want him the most. You’re trembling under his attention and it makes you clench pathetically around absolutely nothing. You’re sure he can see the way your cunt drools and leaks with every small kiss he peppers against your skin. 

Just when he gets close, he pulls back and kisses back down towards your knee. The teasing has you wound taut, feeling as if you’re almost on the edge without him ever properly touching you.

It feels like hours that he does it, kissing up and down your thighs. Occasionally, he nips at the skin there, swirling his tongue over the burning marks he leaves behind to soothe the sting. Finally, he moves his hand and you think he’s going to finally give you something but all he does is spread your folds apart with two fingers, exposing your hole and clit to the cool bedroom air. The action makes you whine but he pays you no mind. 

He carries on kissing your thighs and nipping at your skin. No matter how much you rut your hips, hoping to entice him into touching you and giving you what you really need, he ignores it. He ignores your whines and the cries of his name, ignores the way your cunt clenches and drools around nothing, clit twitching from how much teasing you’re enduring. 

The little bud aches, throbbing as it begs for anything – any little touch that he has to offer. He could blow air upon the nub right now and you’re sure you would explode in pure pleasure. 

When you sob his name, broken and needier than you’ve ever heard yourself, he finally looks up. His eyelids are heavy, concealing half of his iris and it makes him look positively fucked out. 

“Look at me,” he commands, licking his lips slowly, “Right in the eyes, let me see you properly.”

You force yourself to meet his penetrating gaze, almost struggling to compose yourself. You find yourself trapped in the eye contact, almost paralyzed under his intoxicating gaze. He holds you there for what feels like minutes but in reality is probably just a few seconds. 

His fingers finally hone in on your clit, pressing against the twitching, hardened bud. You cum immediately, still locked in that intoxicating eye contact. You cry out, hands slapping against the bed as he draws the orgasm out of you with slow circles on the little bud, sticky clicking sounds filling the room and mixing with your wild cries of pleasure. It seems like the high never stops, more and more cum gushing from your cunt and dripping down to stain the comforter beneath you. 

Simon watches you with keen attention, taking in every expression you make as he makes you cum against his fingers, the bud throbbing wildly until the orgasm finally dissipates. 

When you finally sag against the bed, your thighs fall completely open as the post-orgasm exhaustion quickly hits. You’re left trembling and twitching through the aftershocks, pretty pussy still drooling with every clench of your walls.

Simon takes the opportunity of you coming down to strip himself. He tugs his shirt off over his head and lets his sweatpants drop the floor, carelessly kicking them away. His gaze never leaves you, never leaves that twitching little cunt between your legs.

There’s a slick film of your cum coating your folds and his mouth fucking waters. 

Your eyes fly open, not even realizing that you had closed them, when he suddenly cups the back of your thighs and pins you wide open for him.

“Simon…” you pathetically coo, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair when he comes within reach.

“So sweet for me,” he coos, kissing your thigh once again and you’re scared that he’s going to tease you all over again, “A good orgasm got you nice and sweet, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mutter, dazedly looking at him as you feel his breath on your sensitive cunt. 

That alone makes you clench around nothing. You nearly whimper out loud when you see his tongue fall from his mouth, glistening with spit before he licks a slow, wide stripe between your folds. 

When he comes back up, he holds his tongue out and lets you see the creamy mess of your cum left behind. He makes a show of swallowing every drop in his mouth, making your cheeks flush in pure embarrassment at such a lewd display. 

You had no idea Simon would be so fucking filthy in bed but the way his eyes roll back at your taste tells you all that you need to know. 

He loudly slurps your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sloppy bud as he whines and groans into your cunt. You tug harshly at his hair at the overwhelming feeling of having your clit doted on so expertly. 

His hands keep you pinned open, allowing him to slip his tongue inside you, occasionally taking a moment to visibly swallow every drop of your slick so you can see the way he absolutely savors your taste.

He swirls that offending tongue around your clit again, slurping it back into his mouth before two fingers are prodding at your entrance. You clench against him, the excitement of finally being filled with something making you whimper. Just the sound of you so eager makes him almost want to cum completely untouched. 

Your cum generously coats his face and he absolutely loves it. He pulls away suddenly, dark eyes locking onto your face as he pants from how lost he was in eating you out. He slowly presses two fingers inside you, letting them slide in, hugged by the plushness of your walls.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, love,” he coos, moaning sympathetically when you cry out from the feeling of being stretched on his fingers, “And so warm too, fuck.”

He decides, in that moment, that he doesn’t care if the world is ending outside, he feels nothing but bliss with you. He never wants this to end, he wants to get completely lost in the pure intoxication of you. 

He leans down, flattening his tongue against your clit once again. The feeling is heightened now that he’s got his thick fingers stuffed inside you. You clench around him at the feeling of his tongue on the sensitive bud once more. 

He suddenly crooks his fingers and your legs helplessly kick in the air at the overwhelming feeling of him pressing and prodding against that gooey little spot inside you. Your hips rabbit up and you practically wail at the overwhelming sensations he’s attacking you with. You squeal his name so sweetly before he finally backs off a bit, letting you sink back into the soft cushions of the bed.

He’s completely drunk off of you, off the creamy cum you gush out for him to lick up, off the lovely sounds you let out from how good he makes you feel. His cock is so painfully hard and he wants so badly to wrap his hand around himself but he knows he’ll blow his load the second he does, so he refrains. 

To distract himself from the ache in his cock, he doubles his focus on you and making you feel good. His fingers crook upwards again, prodding your g-spot again with renewed vigor. You cry out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he sucks your clit into his mouth, the suction making your thighs tremble. 

“I-I wanna cum!” you cry out, fingers still tugging harshly at his hair. 

He groans against you but doesn’t dare to part from you, too focused on bringing you to your high to actually goad you into it. His fingers move inside you, fucking you nice and deep, making sure he’s working that sweet little spot inside you as he continues to suck on your clit. 

It doesn’t take long before your entire body stiffens and you toss your head back. The choked out cry is music to his ears and his own eyes roll back when he feels the way your walls tighten around him, soaking his fingers generously. Your clit throbs in his mouth before he releases his suction on it, instead choosing to lick the pulsing little bud with the flat of his tongue to gently ease you through the high. 

You’re pushing his head away long before he’s ready to part but he willingly backs off nonetheless. His chin is wet with your cum, even dripping down his neck and the sight makes you flush. There’s a loud, squishy noise when he slowly pulls his fingers from the hot clutch of your cunt. 

“Scoot back for me, darlin’,” he commands you, slurring a little before he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean of the mess you left behind. 

You do as he says, shakily pushing yourself back so you can lay your head in the pillows. With Simon standing at the foot of the bed, you finally get the chance to take a look at him. 

He’s obviously incredibly well built, broad and firm in all the right places. Most notably, he has numerous scars, some that looked like bullet wounds and others that were long and thin. 

“Are all those from the military?” you find yourself asking as he carefully crawls onto the bed, jostling you as the mattress moves under his weight.

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning down to press his lips against yours.

You let him handle your body as he pleases, spreading your legs so he can comfortably situate himself between them. His cock, hard and heavy, rests against your folds and you find your eyes going wide at the sight of it.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he chuckles, like he can hear what you’re thinking. 

“That’s not going to fit,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze off the twitching, fat length of him.

“‘Course it will, love,” he breathes, pecking your lips again, letting his lips trail down over your jaw, “I worked you open real good, all you gotta do is relax and let me in.”

With a minute adjustment of his hips, the tip prods your entrance. He grips the base of his length, carefully pushing forward, mouth dropping open as he feels your hot, wet walls spread around the head of him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts, “Jus’ let me do the work.”

Your hands fly down to grip his forearms, nails biting harder into the skin there the deeper he sinks into you. The middle of his cock is the fattest, giving you an almost painful stretch that makes your face pinch up in a way that Simon doesn’t like.

He brings one hand to his mouth, licking his thumb before carefully pressing the digit against that sensitive bud. You whimper at the feeling, cunt clutching tight around him, easing more of his length inside. He circles your clit a few more times, watching your face for any clear signs of discomfort. Before long, his hips meet yours, filling you absolutely full to the brim in a way no one ever had before. 

He plants both hands on either side of your head, abandoning your clit in favor of simply rutting his hips against yours. His large body hovers over you, shielding you from anything outside of him and you find yourself completely lost in everything that is him – how full he makes you feel, how nice he smells, how safe you feel trapped beneath him like you are. 

Your hands wind around his neck, pulling him down so his chest presses against yours. Your breasts squish against his chest and he finds his eyes flickering down just to look at them. The sight makes you smile despite yourself – it’s cute, you think.

Tangling your fingers in his soft curls once again, you bring him down for a kiss. He’s still slowly, carefully rutting his hips against yours, his lower abdomen sliding against your clit as his cock stirs inside you, stretching you and hitting every sweet little spot inside you. 

You whimper into his mouth, gasping at the way he makes you feel so full and good while he barely does anything. Your knees bracket against his ribs, squeezing him so tightly you wonder if it hurts but he just continues to kiss you and circle his hips. 

“Wanna feel you cum around me,” he whispers, barely parting from your lips to request it, “Just like this, cover my cock. Be good for me.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to disobey even if you wanted to. With the way he stirs you up and drags against every tender spot inside you all while grinding against your clit the way he is, you don’t stand a chance. Your third orgasm creeps up on you and your back arches just as it washes over you.

Simon groans at the feeling of you cumming around him for the first time – the tight, wet clutch of your cunt feeling better than he ever could have dreamed. As he watches you writhe in his bed, moaning and whimpering his name, he’s overcome with a plethora of feelings that just melt his heart. 

He can’t resist pulling you in for another kiss, cupping your jaw as he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock remains buried in your cunt. You’re still working on coming down from the orgasm he just gave you but he’s greedy – he wants to feel it again. He wants to fuck the orgasm out of you, make you ride it out and gush all over him.

He needs to show you how good he can be for you, hoping that this alone can get across just how much you mean to him. He’s never been the best with words, so he can only hope that this is enough for now.

Your hands press against his chest, aimlessly pushing at him from the overwhelming way he fucks you. You’re so sensitive, pushed into cumming more times than anyone had ever made you before. But he doesn’t show any signs of slowing or stopping. He’s a machine, built for stamina and he’s on a fucking mission now – to make you feel as good as he possibly can. 

You’re attempting to push him away, to give your poor, overstimulated body a chance to come down. But he’s having none of it. 

“Hands off, love,” he commands breathlessly. But you just stare up at him with dazed, teary eyes, panting and sweaty. He clicks his tongue, “You ignorin’ me, sweetheart?”

He grapples your wrists in his one hand, pulling yours away from his chest and pinning them above your head. He uses this new hold as leverage to really fuck you, pulling back and sinking back in as deep as he possibly can. His tip kisses your cervix, making your thighs tense up at the twinge of pain that comes with having him so deep. 

But the pain mixes so addictively with the pleasure that you find yourself getting completely lost in the slow, deep rhythm that he sets. Every time he sinks balls deep, his hips slap against yours and he rubs up deliciously against your clit. The pleasure on your bud doesn’t last long before he’s pulling back again, never allowing you to fully build up to another delicious high. 

Simon is lost in the way you whimper and whine. He can swear that he’s never heard anything as incredible as you being denied the pleasure he had been so generous with so far. He likes the desperate look in your eyes; it makes him feel amazing to know that you need him to make you feel good. He’s in charge of your pleasure in that moment and he finds himself relishing in that feeling of control over you. 

You look so sweet beneath him, pinned and helpless with teary eyes looking up at him. Your pupils are blown wide from the pleasure his cock brings you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep. 

Usually, Simon is a fast and rough kind of guy, but he finds himself thinking that he could definitely get used to a pace like this more often. As long as it’s you that’s underneath him. 

It doesn’t take you very long to break, those pretty tears falling down your cheeks as you breathlessly plead with him, “Please, Simon,” your voice cracks so cutely, “I want more!”

He chuckles under his breath and leans down, pressing a tender kiss against your temple before whispering, “What’s stoppin’ you from takin’ more?”

That seems to set you off. You’re bracing your feet on the bed, rutting your hips, rocking yourself against his cock. A moan rips from his chest at the sight of you using his cock like that. His heavy balls press against you and the feeling makes his cock throb, making him realize how badly he needs to cum. But he doesn’t want to give up this little show you’re putting on for him so soon. 

You’re so, so wet that he can feel how your messy little cunt squishes around him. You shamelessly soak every inch of him the more you work your own pussy on his fat cock. You tug your hands free from his grip and he’s left clenching the pillows in his fist when he watches your fingers descend.

He thinks you’re going to go for your clit, to push yourself over the edge like you so deserved for being so good for him. But instead, you reach for your own tits. The breath punches out of his lungs as the sight of you meanly pinching and tweaking your nipples as you continue to rock yourself against him.

Simon feels his balls tighten at the sight and he almost thinks he’s going to cum but he suddenly pulls his cock out. You wail in complete misery at the loss, tearfully watching him wrap his hand around the base of his cock, pinching off the impending orgasm.

You flop back down onto the bed, sniffling pathetically as you glare at him for ruining the orgasm you were so beautifully working yourself up to. He smiles crookedly at you, cupping the backs of your knees, crudely pinning them to your chest so your pretty, wet cunt is open and vulnerable to the way he suddenly stuffs himself back inside. 

With you completely pinned beneath him in a press, you can’t do anything except cry out and wail in pleasure as he finally fucks you fast and hard. His balls slap lewdly against your ass, your arousal dripping off of them. 

His eyes are locked on the way you’re stretched so wide around the girth of him. You’re creaming around him, a milky ring left in your wake every time he pulls out. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe or collect yours, simply fucking you with everything he has. It’s loud, wet, and fucking messy. 

“F-Fuck,” he chokes on the word, voice breaking as it comes out. He’s so close that it hurts, “Play with yourself for me, love, rub your clit.”

Your hand flies down to do as you’re told without a second thought. It only takes a few, quick circles around the hard little bud before you’re cumming with a cute little squeal. Your feet kick helplessly in the air, toes curling from how hard you cum around him. 

Simon groans at the sight and feeling of you losing yourself on his cock. You continue to swirl and tap at your clit, forcing yourself to cum harder and harder until you’re squirting around him with a choked off sob of his name. 

Simon’s hips never still or falter, fucking you fast and deep to work you through the orgasm. Your cum splatters across his hips, thighs, and chest. It makes his eyes roll up into his head before he lets his head fall back. His jaw opens and he moans, loud and deep as his own orgasm finally washes over him. 

His pace falters as you lay there twitching and crying, a few trembling thrusts of his hips as his cock spits rope after rope of cum inside you. He cums longer and harder than he has in a very long time. He continues with short, aborted little thrusts on his sensitive cock as he continues to cum.

Even when the orgasm dissipates, he finds himself fucking into the creamy mess drooling out of your twitching cunt. 

“S-Simon-!” you choke out, nails clawing down his shoulders, “S-Sensitive!”

“I know, love,” he pants, almost deliriously, “J-Just one more. G-Gotta fill you up again.”

You can’t do anything but lay back and let him use your cunt as he works to force another orgasm out of his overstimulated cock. He’s gasping and whining as he moves his hips, pulling his cock out only to stuff it back inside. A mixture of your cum and his drips down, soaking his cock, pelvis, and balls. It’s a heady, lewd mess that he can’t bring himself to worry about now but he knows it’ll be a pain to clean up later. 

You’re trembling and twitching with every one of his movements, tears dried and new on your cheeks. He feels a pang of remorse for you, you’re tired and overstimulated but he just needs to wring this one last orgasm out and then he’ll let you rest.

“You can be good for me, huh?” he coos sweetly, “Just be sweet and let me, fuck, use this pretty little cunt, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, nodding your head as your eyelids flutter in exhaustion.

Simon leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You both get lost in the kiss, with your arms wrapped around his neck. He loves how it feels to have you stuffed on his cock while your pretty, sweet body twitches and trembles beneath him. He knows it probably hurts by now and the fact you’re just laying there and letting him use you like this has him reaching his second high. 

He chokes on a moan, gasping as he cums for the final time. It’s much more lackluster than his first one but he still fills you up just like you both needed. His cock twitches almost painfully inside you as he slowly rocks his hips, wincing at the overstimulation. 

After a few, still moments, he pulls his length free from the soft plushness of your cunt and rolls off of you. You’re both panting, laying on your backs on the bed as you come back to yourselves.

You’re the first one to move, rolling onto your side and wrapping yourself around him. Simon finds himself smiling when he feels the sweet way you snuggle against him, seeking his comfort automatically. 

You start shivering, the mess of cum and sweat on your body causing you to become cold. He urges you to sit up despite your protests. 

“Let’s take a shower and sleep,” he offers sweetly, supporting your shaky body to the bathroom.

He continues to support you and hold you close through the shower. He finds himself grateful that there’s still hot water because you both certainly need it after such a messy tryst in his bed. 

You’re the first to fall asleep, tucked against his chest with your arms wrapped around him like a little koala. His hand strokes up and down your back, just staring into the inky blackness of his bedroom. 

Part of him feels like it’s all a dream, to have someone so sweet tucked against him, offering him comfort and feeling safe as they snooze peacefully. A sense of fierce protectiveness washes over him as he finds himself going through plans in his head – what the future may hold.

He’s torn from his thoughts when you shoot up from your deep sleep with a gasp. Your head wildly turns, looking around the room. His hand finds purchase on your back, making you jump before relaxing immediately in recognition.

“Bad dream?” he asks, tugging you gently to lay you back down against his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I dreamt that I was trapped with them in that hallway again.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms tightly around you to make sure you feel secure. You go still for a long time and he thinks you fell asleep again but then you ask him a question that surprises him.

“Who are those people in the photos?” you quietly question, “In your living room.”

He hums, rubbing a rough hand up and down your shoulder and arm, “My teammates. Friends, I guess.”

“You guess?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Task Force 141; Captain John Price, and Seargets John ‘Soap’ MacTavish and Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.”

“Soap is a silly name,” you comment, grinning up at him, resting your chin against his chest, “What about you?”

“Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley,” he responds with ease. 

“Do you know where they are?” you ask.

It’s an innocent question but it sends a pang of hurt to his chest. If he were a weaker, less trained man, he may have felt tears pricking his eyes, “I don’t know,” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “I was in contact with Soap when everything started goin’ to shit. Lost contact with him though. He’s a tough bastard though, I’m sure he’s fine somewhere out there. I don’t know where the other two were or are.”

“If they’re even half as good as you, I’m sure they’re all fine,” you offer optimistically. 

Simon hums again, reaching a hand up to brush a stray flyaway off of your forehead. His big hand cups your cheek, stroking his thumb over your lips which you offer a gentle kiss against. 

“All I’m worried about now is you,” he confesses softly, “As long as you’re safe, I’ll be happy. I’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you smile, laying back down to nuzzle against his chest, “I’m okay as long as you’re here.”

He wraps his arms around you again and closes his eyes, letting himself sleep peacefully with you held safe against him.

It’s not even a week later that you’re sitting on the couch with him, peacefully watching a movie with a full belly after cooking a quick dinner with him, that you hear a loud, mechanical thump and you’re plunged into complete silence and darkness. Your heart jumps and races in your chest, mindlessly grappling onto Simon’s arm as he sits still beside you.

“What happened?” you ask, whispering as if you’re scared to speak any louder.

“Power went out,” he responds, not sounding the least bit perturbed, “Knew it was comin’. Water’s probably out now too.”

“What do we do?” you ask, the tremor of fear in your voice practically breaking his heart. 

He stands up and you whimper in fear when he’s out of your reach. You can hear him moving around in the dark before a bright, blinding light lands on you. 

“We can’t stay here for much longer,” he responds, “We’ll have to move out and find somewhere with more resources.”

“How long have you been planning this?” you ask, getting to your feet to follow him down the hall to the bedroom.

“Ever since the news stopped reportin’,” he responds, grabbing a large backpack from the closet, “Let’s pack up.”

You linger beside him and he looks at you with a raised brow, “I’m scared, Simon.”

His gaze softens and he walks up to you, cupping your cheeks tenderly, “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises, “We’re goin’ to go out, find a small place to hunker down. We’ll look for a generator or a vehicle and get somewhere safe. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod your head, “Of course I do.”

“Good,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, “Now take this backpack and fill it with what’s left of our canned food, alright? I’m goin’ to pack everything else we need, don’t worry about a thing.”

He offers you a flashlight, which you gratefully take and click on. You’re glad that he gives you an easy task to focus on. You take the smaller backpack he offers you and make your way to the kitchen. You only have about 5 cans of food left and you carefully place them inside the bag before opening the refrigerator to pack a few full bottles of water that you have stored in there. You make sure to toss in a can opener just in case before you place the backpack on the couch. 

Simon emerges from the room with the large, military backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You get it all?” he asks, taking a seat to shove his boots onto his feet.

“Yeah and a couple water bottles,” you respond, approaching him slowly.

“That’s perfect,” he praises, looking over at you, “You should go get dressed. Jeans and a hoodie. Put your sneakers on and make sure they’re tight, got it?”

You nervously do as you’re told, disappearing into the bedroom to quickly dress yourself under the flashlight. You can hear Simon moving around in the living room, heavy boots thumping against the floor with every step he takes. 

You toss the hoodie over your head and make your way back to Simon, who stands in the living room, looking out the window. The sun is just beginning to come up over the horizon, casting a dim amount of sunlight to come through. 

He turns to look at you when he hears you approach. 

“There you go,” he hums, pulling the hoodie up over your head and tightening the strings, “Keep your neck covered. We’ll find you some better clothing somewhere along the way.”

You nod your head and take a glance over his shoulder out the window. You can barely see the ground from your position but you can see people shuffling around on the streets below. A pang of fear goes through you as you realize that they’re most definitely not normal people – the streets are crawling with those undead freaks. 

Simon leads you to the door and unsheaths a weapon for you – a machete he had taught you to wield with relative ease. You grip it in your hands, nervously twirling it around until you find a comfortable position. Simon nods his head and pulls out a combat knife, holding it low at his side before opening the door. 

The descent to the lobby is relatively easy, you walk over the undead that have already been taken care of in the stairwell.

“I took care of these already,” he explains without you even having to ask, helping you jump over a pile of 3 zombies at the foot of the stairs. 

“You got more kills under your belt than me,” you comment, mostly in jest to lighten your mood.

Simon huffs under his breath, slowly pushing open the door to the lobby, “You have no idea.”

You squint and turn off your flashlight when you step into the well lit lobby. The sun is now above the horizon, allowing you to see with ease once again. 

Simon remains in front of you, making your way to the double front doors. You peek around him, heart racing in your chest as your grip on your weapon tightens.

“Are you ready?” he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“No…” you confess, shuffling closer to him.

“Everything will be okay,” he promises firmly and you actually believe him. 

When he pushes open the door, the groans of the undead fill your ears and you find your eyes darting frantically around the streets that you can now see with terrifying clarity. 

Hundreds of undead swarm the streets, stumbling and groaning as they shuffle around aimlessly in search of food. Simon reaches down and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You know it’s going to be the fight of your life but with Simon by your side, you have faith that you’re going to make it through and find somewhere safe together.

 property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.

[nullen-void]

For a long time I wondered if the final TF2 comic would ever come out. For a longer time I wondered if I wanted it to. They built it up so much, hyped the Administrator's big plan so high, and then waited so long, could they possibly ever meet expectations?

I don't know if what they did was what they originally planned, or if there even was a plan, but I think they knocked it out of the park. It feels... right.

And it cemented the Administrator as one of the most terrifying villains in history. But before I discuss that, SPOILERS:

It was all pointless. None of it ever mattered.

The Gravel Wars, the fighting, the Australium, the deaths, the Classic Mercs, none of it mattered at all. Because Helen or whatever her name is just an addict getting her fix.

She kept a man alive for near enough two hundred years, trapped in the moment just before death by a thousand diseases, because she dedicated her life so thoroughly to ending him that when he finally croaked, she had nothing left. So she brought him back to suffer more. And then extended her OWN life so she could keep making him suffer.

And she doesn't even remember why. She was a child when Zepheniah Mann killed her parents, and she's something like a hundred and seventy years old now. It's been three normal lifetimes since then, and she's forgotten. But she never forgot the hate.

She sabotaged two infant's futures by raising them to be bafoons just to hurt their father. She orchestrated a forever war to spite a single man. She was prepared to keep this going until the heat death of the universe.

Do you know what would have happened if Pauling had lost her nerve and admitted they found a new stash of magic metal? With all three Mann brothers dead, she probably would have gone after Olivia. The last Mann standing, and a girl who at the time was only seven and had barely any connection to the Mann legacy at all, and probably didn't know her grandfather's name! And Helen would have gone after her and ruined her life just to make Zepheniah watch as yet another generation of Mann was ruined.

What a pointless, misspent life. What a waste of time. What an ending.

It makes what comes next all the greater. Scout and Soldier are dads with happy children, Spy still can't admit their relation but gets to be part of his grandkids' lives and he and Jeremy trust each other enough that Scout doesn't blink when he takes his mask off. Team Fortress is happy. They moved on. Found new lives.

Helen couldn't. She had all the time in the world and then some, and she just couldn't move on.

What a waste.

[lxvebun]

you are every lovely word I could think of

synopsis: the mighty king of curses is suffering from a bad case of love sickness<3

content: sukuna x gender neutral reader. FLUFF!! He's so in love with you<33. Around 500 words. Eng isnt my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes♡ not entirely proofread

Sukuna’s ways are faltering. He feels weakened. He’s ill, that's for sure. For a moment, Sukuna thinks this might be the end for him—that this realm has finally found a way to light the darkness and cleanse the rot that is Sukuna Ryomen. King of Curses to some, abomination of nature to most.

And it's all your fault.

He's not entirely sure what kind of divine power your soul carries, but even the simplest things—like the lull of your voice when you speak his name, sweet and syrupy, full of light—are enough to make his cold, dead heart stir once more.  His heart struggling and faltering at times as it tries to beat in sync with yours

It’s a strange sensation, feeling his heart beat again. A deep hum in his chest that almost sounds like your name.  The last time he remembers it happening is so long ago that the memory feels distant, fractured and unreal, like something out of a dream. But he is aware that it beats more warmly, more proudly, than it ever has before. And it's terrifyingly human.

It makes him sick.

Because it’s not the only thing you've changed. The way his voice stutters when you meet his eyes, the hitch in his throat, the molten heat that rushes through his veins—it's all foreign. Unfamiliar. Vulnerable 

It’s a disease, one he can feel creeping through every part of him, infecting and weaving through the darkest corners of his soul. It pumps feverishly through his veins, into his heart, and it’s all because of you. And yet… he cannot bring himself to fight it. At this point, he’s willingly losing, even against his better judgment.

It’s not just Sukuna who notices the shift within himself. Of course, Uraume would, too. Sukuna can tell by the way they’ve been tiptoeing around him these last few days—sentences cut short and overly polite,  eyes cast downward. He puts an end to it one night, after returning from seeing you. Coming back a little more disheveled than when he left, a permanent blush staining his ears and cheeks, making the intimidating expression on his face seem much less terrifying.

"Welcome back, Sukuna," Uraume says quietly. And Sukuna has had enough.

"Look at me." His tone is commanding, but there’s a faint trace of something tender.

"Raise your head and speak your mind, Uraume. I taught you better than that. You've noticed something. Tell me."

There’s a long pause, and then Uraume, with a hesitant glance, mutters, "I think... I think that you’re in love."

Sukuna thinks they might be right.

Thank you for reading!<3

[rookinthecrownest]

ok scrolled past a post that said something about making really specific/niche AU’s based on your job/hobby so now I’m just thinking about different VG characters and their respective medical specialties

Taash - Orthopedic surgery (must be able to bench 225 as a minimum reqt)

Emmrich - Pathology/Coroner. He would do both, and be the most passionate teacher. excited when anyone comes down to the lab to look at slides or an interesting case comes through for autopsy.

Neve - 100% Internal medicine. Can recite data from major landmark trials like AFFIRM or TIME-HF off the top of her head. Absolutely graduated top of her class at an elite program. Can work anywhere she wants but chooses to provide comprehensive primary care to the folks in her home town. Consistently rejecting job offers from large academic centres.

I could see her sub specializing in infectious disease because those guys are TRUE detectives. They will go back and find every antibiotic you’ve been on since you were born and write a novel about you 😭

Bellara - Debating between IM and maybe Radiology? I could also see her doing a more high tech surgical specialty like Urology and using the DaVinci robot

Harding - Pediatrics (generally sweet, but scary/terrifying to anyone who’s not a child)

Lucanis - Neurosurgery. The perfect specialty for highly competent people with incredible fine motor skills who are okay with working stupid long hours. Comes from a long line of neurosurgeons. Expected to continue the tradition.

Davrin - I can see him doing General Surgery, but like true General surgery. Like the guys out in small rural hospitals who’ll do basically everything from the neck down, including c sections.

Rook is absolutely an ER doc. They are just That Guy who comes in and has to cowboy their way through the most dumpster fire situations. Great at improvising on the fly. Wicked smart on their own but knows when to call in the specialists for backup.

Is this anything-

[reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeko]

Sebek Zigvolt crush head cannons 💚

my first post on here uhhhhhh hiii feel free to request if you enjoyed reading this :)

❦ Sebek is the type that when he develops a crush, he has no idea it’s a crush. Like he’ll assume he’s sick with some human disease and think he’s dying. After extensive research, as well as “help” from some of the other freshmen. He learns it’s not some human disease. He still isn’t sure what it is though, so he turns to the only source that could know what this sickening feeling in his heart is. Lilia.

❦ When Lilia tells him it’s love, (after copious amounts of teasing from the older) Sebek is confused. This isn’t like the love and admiration he feels for Malleus. It’s different, it consumes him and it makes him feel awkward. If he sees you around your other friends, it’s instant jealousy. Why weren’t you hanging out with him? Don’t you know they’re not fae that are training to be royal guard? He is the only one that can protect you. Sure Jack may be absolutely bulked up but still! Sebek has muscle too! 

❦ okay maybe it’s slightly more obsessive but still! He’s a sweetheart when the two of you are alone. Need help carrying your books? He’s already there grabbing them for you. Can’t reach something in the Alchemy lab? Luckily for you he had extras so you can take some of his! Can’t find your notes for magical history and you have an exam next period? He’s next to you offering his notebook and scolding you softly about the importance of placing things where you’ll remember them. He’s quite literally your number one helper. Other than Malleus, you’re the only thing on his mind!

❦ He didn’t even know how to confess at first. Spending hours going through romance novels in the library to try and gain some sort of idea on how to tell you he loved you. Even turning to using Lilia’s computer to search up the most romantic ways to express his love. Eventually, the older fae saw his struggle and decided to help. So, with new found knowledge, he gathered the things Lilia had told him to and went on his way to confess.

❦ Sebek had shown up to Ramshackle the very next evening, a bouquet of your favorite flowers wrapped in small lights, candied fruit, and a box of chocolates in his arms. He had tried to dress up abit, only to get poked fun at by Silver and Lilia. So instead he wore his dorm uniform, hoping it was formal enough.  Nervous was an understatement. He was terrified as he cleared his throat and knocked on the door, silently praying that Grim didn’t answer.

❦ He luckily got his wish, watching as you opened the door, a small smile on your face as you looked up at him curiously. “Sebek?” 

❦ He could feel his face burning a bright red as he bowed, offering you the gifts as he kept his eyes trained on the ground below. “[Name], it has come to my attention that I have developed romantic feelings for you.” His loud voice seemed to grow quieter the longer he spoke.

❦You were stunned for a moment, slowly taking the gifts from the fae with a small smile. “I’m flattered Seb…” He winced slightly, preparing himself for rejection. “Do you reciprocate my feelings, [Name]?” He straightened out his back, face still burning red as he looked down at you. Giggling softly, you nodded. “I do Sebek.”

❦he begins courting you immediately, granting you scary dog privileges from any students that think It’d he okay to treat you with disrespect. Like I said, he’s a sweetheart, practically putty in your hands.❤️

[jezebelblues]

saturn bound | h.s

summary: in which the world ends in your point of view, alongside your husband.

cw: death, angsty-ish i guess? unedited, grammatically correct in upper case if that tickles ur fancy.

word count: approx 1.4k. she’s a shortie

| this is in first person! (perspective of you, as reader) i was iffy about a 1st perspective so i edited in both 2nd and 3rd, but 1st person felt right. sorry if u hate, ladies.

masterlist

No one would remember me as YN, no one would remember my husband as Harry.

As the world crumbled into its final moments, you’d think that chaos would envelope everyone whole. That people would be running, screaming, fighting, as if they could somehow wrestle with the jaws of fate. Mothers clutching their children, fathers desperately barking orders to no one, families collapsing under the weight of hopelessness. Dogs howling into the wind after their selfish owners sped off, children sobbing as the air itself seemed to shudder with terror. A cacophony of fear.

You’d imagine fear cause these people knew their life was going to end.

And it was there undeniably, fear. Not the frantic kind, though. A different one—a quiet terror that settled deep in the bones, cold and ancient, like the Earth itself had finally whispered its last breath into our ears. It didn’t matter what was ending us—whether the dead were clawing from their graves, or if the sky had split apart and let loose the fires of heaven, or some disease had snatched us, unseen, from within. It didn’t matter. Not really. Because the truth was simple, inevitable: today, all life on Earth would be snuffed out, and we would become nothing—a floating spec of a forgotten afterthought.

There would be no future, no one left to carry the stories of humankind forward. No history books filled with our triumphs and tragedies. There would be no mourning of our extinction, the things we took for granted. Earth would be a blank—unknown, just one of countless casualties of time. If there was anyone out there in the universe with us, the children of this planet, would be memories swept away like dust, if even that. There would be no tears shed for us. The universe, so vast, would hardly notice our passing.

Some prayed. Desperation forced them down to their knees, begging for salvation, for some kind of afterlife, something more beautiful than their end. The thought of death so terrifying that they’d hope and pray they’ll end up in heaven—hell, even. Anything other than nothing, than eternal darkness. I understood, in a way, because nothing is scary—we’re alive, we’ve never experienced it—it’s impossible to wrap your mind around nothing.

Others drank. I joined them, a bottle of tequila in hand, the burn numbing me just enough to make peace with the fact that I would die today. And my Harry, the man that gave me his last name, would die beside me.

Harry Styles, the man the world adored, the man I called my husband—sat next to me, his head resting softly against my shoulder. We watched as Saturn, impossibly close now, loomed over us, over our home, like an executioner asking for our final words. Its rings shimmered, casting a glow that drowned out the stars. The air was thick with sobs, with whispered prayers. People clung to each other like lifelines, as if the touch of another human might hold them here, in this world that was no longer theirs. Some screamed, but most just stood and stared, watching death arrive with a strange, defeated calm—a cobra swaying in dance before striking its prey.

Harry’s hand found mine, gripping it tightly as if to stay grounded. He tried to pray, the fingers on his left hand trembling with the grasp of his cross pendant, but his voice cracked, breaking on the words. Tears ran down his face, but I couldn’t cry. There was nothing left in me to give to hope or fear. Once, faith could’ve been my anchor, but now it felt like a lie I might tell myself to feel safe. There was no safety here. There was no escaping this.

And so I watched, as those I had once called neighbors, friends, fought against the inevitable. They ran, though there was nowhere to go. They screamed, though no one could hear. They prayed, though no god would answer. It was almost pathetic, the way they clung to the last shreds of life. But maybe it gave them some comfort. Maybe that was all anyone wanted in the end—their last conjured thought to be at least I tried.

"You know-” he trailed off softly, his voice breaking the stillness between us, "I always thought we'd have more time. That mayb-” He sighed. “Maybe we'd get old together."

His words struck me like a blow. "I thought so too." I whispered, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier. It felt so cruel, to have found this love, this overwhelming, all-consuming love, only to have it ripped away after two years of marriage. "We deserved more, H.”

My husband’s thumbs ran circles upon the back of my hand, his tears glistening in the glow of Saturn. His lip quivered, voice shaky. “We can be old now.” He sent me a sad smile, pressing a kiss into my temple. “Happy fiftieth anniversary.” He murmured, playing with the ring on my finger.

I couldn’t stifle the whimper that fell from my grin, nodding to his words. I stared at his wedding band that shimmered in the light before passing the bottle of tequila between us—a toast. To fifty years of marriage. That would’ve something to drink to.

One swig turned into three, three turned into five. It had helped stopped the tears eventually.

Harry turned to me, his face inches from mine, and I could see the weight of the world in his eyes—a humorous irony, really, now that we really are practically weightless as we pull into Saturn’s gravity. He raised a hand, cupping my face so gently, as though I were something precious that he didn't want to break.

"If I could choose how it all ends," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips, "I'd choose this—here with you. If this is the last thing I feel, the last thing I see, then maybe it's not so bad."

Alcohol couldn't stop the tears then. They spilled over, warm and unrelenting, because what else could I do? I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as the world began to fall apart around us. The rumble of the Earth cracking, the low roar of Saturn's tug—it all seemed so distant, so unimportant.

"I don't want to lose you." I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"You won't, YN." His voice was unwavering, as if he had the book of answers hidden in his pocket. His thumb brushed over my cheek while his lips parted once more. "You'll always have me. Always."

And then he kissed me. It wasn't desperate or rushed. It wasn't the kiss of two people saying goodbye, just an I’ll see you later. It was slow, soft, full of everything we had been to each other. His lips were warm, delicate, and for a moment I could pretend the world wasn't ending. I could pretend that all we had was time.

Saturn’s light bathed the earth in colors that had never seemed so tragically gorgeous—deep purples, blues, and grays, all spinning around the our dying planet. The rings twisted and churned in the sky, pulling our world apart piece by piece, and the wind howled as if it cried for us. The stars dimmed, one by one, turning away from the spectacle of our destruction, unable to bear witness. Maybe they chose to die along side us, not letting Earth go through it alone.—like they were the only ones who’d mourn our death. I silently thanked them, though inanimate, I swear I could feel their empathy.

Harry gripped my hand tighter, his skin warm against the cold air. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. Our foreheads met again, a united front. His green eyes met mine, full of sorrow, of love, of things unsaid. I wanted every one of the five senses to envelope only him. Our last moment to be together, not watching the world collapse, but here, in this space we had carved out between us.

I kissed him. One last time. The taste of salt from his tears mingled with the liquor on my lips. “I love you.” We whispered together, our voices lost in the roar of the sky falling apart.

And then it was gone.

The cold sank into my bones, but it no longer mattered. My heart slowed, and the world around me faded. No more breath in my lungs, no more blood in my veins. Just the void. And as we drifted into that nothingness, I held onto one final hope—that there is some sort of afterlife, so I could find my Harry again.

Yet, the Earth was gone. It dissolved into the void like dust. The stars, too, blinked out one by one, and the universe spun on, indifferent. We were forgotten, nothing left to even decompose in our boundless grave. Perhaps the dead stars that’ll become something more will be our headstones—an indication we were once here.

But for now, it was as if we never existed in the first place.

btw if you feel like you’ve seen this before, i originally wrote this on wattpad in 2017. it was horrible :D but i liked the concept, so this is it readjusted. hope u enjoyed even just a lil <3

[tinkerbelle05]

How about a 1016 miles x fem reader where his mom catches them kissing in his room 😭😭 I feel Rio would not play

Caught Red Handed

Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff & slight Angst

Summary: (Requested) Thanks beautiful ♥️

Warnings: awkwardness, snooping parents, Rio’s rage

A/N: Omg Rio would never play like that. I think it took a lot of convincing for you and Miles to be in the same room. Welp that's gone now. Also for my own peace of mind, Miles and Reader is 16+

You loved kissing Miles. You loved leaving a trail of kisses on his jaw, traveling down to his neck, and traveling further down into the depths of his collarbone.

You were doing it right now. Both of you laying on his bed with you draped over his body and his hands on your thighs for stability. You heard a chuckle under his breath and you paused to look at him.

“That made you tickle,” it was more of a statement, an observation really, than a question. He didn’t answer, just avoided your eyes. You took your finger and lightly trailed leaving goosebumps in it’a wakes, leaving him a laughing mess.

“You're such a tease,” he grumbles and kisses your lips.

The both of you were so entrapped in your own world that you didn’t hear Miles’ door opening, and you most definitely didn’t notice Rio standing at the doorway with lunch in her hands.

“What are you two doing?!” You hear a yell. It sounded too much like Ms. Morales for your liking.

Both of you froze with fear and slowly turned around to see a fuming Ms. Morales. She was gripping the tray for dear life and fierce glare on her face.

You practically jump off Miles, white hot embarrassment fills every part of your body. You avoid her line of sight as you brace yourself for the inevitable verbal lashing. You don’t even dare to look at Miles, not even a secret glance in his general direction.

“So this is why y’all wanna keep the door closed all the time huh?” She questions and laughs in a mocking tone.

“Mom-“

“Don’t,” she cuts him off harshly. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. She opens them and they land in the space between you and Miles. “Have you two..?”

“No, we haven't,” Miles answers quickly, and somehow your embarrassment grew deeper.

She gives out a sigh and pinches her nose, “Okay, okay that's good because I will not become a grandmother right now, do you both understand?”

Both of you nod in unison. There was something more terrifying about her calm rage. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in anxiety.

She clears her throat, “Since neither of you clearly paid enough attention during sex-ed in school, I will re-teach you.”

“Huh? Mami please no. You really don’t have to,” Miles protested while you sink further into despair.

She ignores Miles and grabs a chair to sit in, “Okay so when..”

This was going to be a long night but it could definitely have been worse.

“Oh and you both are severely grounded for at least a month,” she adds before she continues on.

It was one of the worst 30 minutes of your life. Ms. Morales went really in depth on every subject related to sex education. The diseases you could catch, different methods of practicing safe sex, and the consequences of failing to do so. She painted horrifyingly graphic demonstrations too.

By the end of it, all you wanted to do was go home and erase this idea from your memory forever.

And at the end, she said, “Now maybe a month from now, after some reflection I can trust you two to be in the same room with the door open. But not right now. Do you need a ride home?” She turned to you, her gaze and voice softer than it was a moment ago

You quickly shake your head no and grab your things. As much as a car ride home would beat the 2 trains and a bus commute you had, your already cringing at the thought of how awkward and tense the car ride would be.

“No, no it’s fine Ms. Morales, I can get home on my own,” you tell her and with a quick goodbye to both of them, you were out the door.

Halfway through your train ride home and the Renaissance album you get a text from Miles. You were surprised he still has his phone.

“I’m sooo sorry for that. Shoulda locked the door next time. I'll make it up to you, promise 🙏🏿”

“I'll hold it to you Morales”

Tags: @butterfi, @justbeethings, @jam-skullz, @zomb1te, @dreamxcollide, @shibble, @sciamachy-after-dusk @sleepdeprivationis4coolkids, @somber-starz, @maypersonne, @peter-parkers-gf, @hoeboat101, @rosebunny, @liural, @midnight-the-shadow-wolf, @mur-docs, @eight-cats-in-a-box@emgavi, @sawi-06, @707xn, @niktwazny303, @nagi3seastorm, @ghostsimp000, @cloudstrifefantatic, @vixqn, @mewxzx, @yourtsahik, @targaryenstormborn, @spider-bren, @star-light18464, @im-jisoo-im-okay, @wraithlueintheirlittleworld, @andhdi68a, @itstooearly-its3am, @universallypeanutpizzapersona, @gricelovesu, @pavitrsgf, @avatarl0v3r, @ca1ist0, @randomhoex, @nerdyparker616, @1uvvmi, @keawio, @centipider, @ellatienesuscosas, @m4rihrts, @jell0buss-37, @baddiebehaviourxx, @laylasbunbunny, @minimari415

Taglist & Anonlist & Reqs Info & Masterlist

[writings-of-a-demigod]

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Hondo chuckled a little.

“Oh you know just some facts.” You shrugged.

You were standing in the middle of the hallway just spacing out when Hondo approached you.

“Well come on lay it on me I wanna hear it” he told you smiling.

You two started walking together when you started.

“Did you know that alligators don’t age biologically? They don’t die from old age, they die from starvation or a disease” you informed him.

He stopped walking and thought about it for a minute “I didn’t know that”

You turned to look at him “Yeah I know and now you do” You smiled and kept walking.

___________________________________________________________

“Hey Y/n”

Tan walked in and looked at the screen looking for new info’s about the case they’re working on.

“Oh hey Tan”

You looked up from the iPad in your hands to glance at him then back to the screen.

“Got anything new?”

“Oh yeah did you know that Koalas spend 99% of their life eating and sleeping and the other 1 % they spend searching for a mate, where they wander around aimlessly until they find one. If they don’t find one, eventually they just give up and go back to sleep.”

Tan looked at you blinking with a confused expression on his face, he pointed at the screen.

“I meant about the case”

“Oh that, yeah check this out.”

___________________________________________________________

“I read something interesting lately.” Deacon started.

You were making a sandwich in the kitchen when he walked in and starting have a conversation with you, nothing out of the ordinary just normal break time.

“Me too” you were getting the ingredients ready for your sandwich.

“You tell me first” he gave you a soft smile.

“Okay so listen to this did you know that the smell of gasoline can irritate bees? And it may excite them to sting so imagine what would happen if you put a tube with bees to someone’s open mouth and a little smell of gasoline” you looked at him with evil smirk on your face.

“You truly scare me sometimes you know that?” That’s all he said to you before walking out of there.

*gif not mine*

A/n: I love writing for SWAT so much and I enjoyed this one 😂 as you can tell. I always tell my friends the most terrifying random-ass facts so I thought this would be fun.

[kindaasrikal]

Sometimes i wonder how much the venom effected Garmadon, even when he got purified from it, or when it didn’t have such a strong effect on his mental state anymore.

Because the devourers venom was with Garmadon since childhood. It was one of the first and will be one of the last things he ever understood so wholeheartedly. Like a disease you’ve gotten far too comfortable with after years of having it. Garmadon never truly knew life without the venom, so he and the venom essentially became one.

I look at Sensei Garmadon and wonder how he questioned how much he truly cared for Wu and Misako at that point. I think he continued to have the intrusive thoughts that constantly followed him around, and now that he no longer has the venom to specifically blame, he knows he is one of the most horrifically disgusting people alive as he unwillingly imagines things he wouldn’t(but could’ve) do.

He is split between keeping himself away from Lloyd and being the father he knows the other needs and so he runs off far away. He hides and hopes his son won’t have the time to visit in his little dojo.

He feels his heart beat as its ripped to pieces when he learns that Misako will follow him. That the love of his life won’t leave him like how he left her, yet he is terrified knowing what he could be capable of.

And as much as he wished to cry in a corner about it, he is constantly thankful that his relationship with Wu is far too messed up for the other to happily follow him along anywhere.

I think Garmadon, no matter what happens, could never escape the effect the venom had on him. The venom is him and he is the venom and he will never avoid that. It is apart of him, in such a deeply intimate way.

[frostedclock-writes]

Crimson Magnolias part 3

Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings: onesided romance, mature and r rated themes, Hanahaki Disease

-----

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 4 here

You really must love torturing yourself. It's official. Your a masochist for your own feelings. Otherwise, why would you be standing here. In the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel, with most of what you own stuffed into two large luggage trunks. The lobby felt larger for some reason as your stomach twisted into knots, like the large peeling murals were staring at you like wolves after a rabbit.

You need the money. And this place at least has room and board included.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Scuttling footsteps.

Your focus was towards the banister and you were about to reach for handles of your trunks. A blue of red and white hit you like a freight train, knocking the breath out of you for a moment. You look don and saw the one large red eye staring up at you with a cracked grin across her face. Niffty. The little maid grabbed a hold of your shirt and used your thighs as a prop for her light body as she looked at you.

"Y/N! Sir told me you would be coming! " She made a small giggle," He was happy that you were coming!"

Your heart squeezed in your chest. " Yeah? He offered a job and well, how can I refuse him?" You make a laugh, forced but it helps the tightening in your throat a little. " A-Anyway, I better go find my room. "

" Oh! " Niffty hopped off of you and took ahold of your hand. " I can show you! Its what sir asked me to do anyway. He picked out the room himself. " She began to gently pull you along, you only had a moment to grab the handles of your trunks before she had you going up the stairs.

"He ... He did?"

" Mmhmm! It's just right up here. "

Niffty took you up several floors, almost to the top. She hummed a tune you didn't know the name of under her breath. The floors looked mostly unused, so you wondered why you were taken so far up. You didn't ask though, you doubted Alastor told Niffty his motivations. He never let anyone know exactly what he was thinking. Bastard. Handsome bastard. But still a bastard.

Niffty let go of your hand as she stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, nothing special about it, the numbers on the little plaque had long since faded and only the little etching remained. Maybe it had once been painted with gold or red at some point. Niffty hopped up and grabbed the handle, the door clicked open and swung with her still holding onto it for a moment before she hopped down and spun to look at you. She was practically bouncing on her little feet.

" Here you are! I made sure all the bugs died in here. Personally. " She covered her mouth as she cackled a little.

You pay the top of her head and smiled. " Thanks, Niff. I'm sure you did it in a way that terrified the other bugs. " You set your trunks down at the end of the bed. Looked a little lumpy but otherwise it was large and clean. " Is Alastor... Busy right now?" Your run your fingers across the bedposts, old and rough to the touch.

" Mhmm. He said he will see you for dinner though. "

Your stomach made flips and you felt the cruel taste of ginger in the back of your throat. You swallowed. " Well, yeah. Yes. I'll see him then. " You take a breath. " I better get unpacked and occupy myself until then. I don't even know what kind of job Alastor wants me to do around here, to tell the truth."

" I can show you my collection now that your here! I've added a few things. " Niffty added. " I'll bring it by later. And I wouldn't worry about it, there plenty to do. Oh, oh! You can help me name the stains in the lobby or polish the silver. "

You make a small laugh and you felt a smile test on your lips. " Alright, niff, I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I'll take you up on that naming stains. "

" Okay! Bye! " Niffty smiled and she scuttled out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. You didn't bother going to close it.

You focused on unpacking your trunks into the bureau in the corner. You carefully folded the clothes and placed them inside, you hummed softly to yourself as you organized and got settled into the room. Things smelled like they had been recently cleaned, you wonder if Niffty had fixed the room up before you came. You pulled an old sequined flapper dress from the bottom of your trunk. Your fingers brushed over the edges of the fabric. The red had faded to an almost pink in color. You make a gentle sigh and tuck the dress away.

You almost didn't hear the creak of the floor boards as someone approached the door. You look over and see snake eyes peering from around the corner. Charlie was in the doorway and cleared her throat. You set your empty trunk down and then towards them. You watch Charlie give Sir Pentious a little pat of encouragement.

" You apologized to Alastor just fine. Now, the other one you could have seriously hurt, is right here. " Charlie smiled and then looked to you. " Sir Pentious is staying in the hotel! And first order of business is to show him how to apologize! " She practically buzzed with energy. " So many new faces! So exciting." She then caught herself and cleared her throat and nudged Sir Pentious again. " Go ahead, I have to go check on the welcome cookies and I will be right back!"

You open your mouth to stop Charlie, wanting to at least have another person with you while this wannabe overlord was 'apologizing'. You sigh in defeat and look to Sir Pentious, you put on a bit of a strained smile. " Hello. "

" Yes, ah, Ms. Y/N , " he slithered a little closer and you watched him closely. " I.... Am sorry I nearly blew you up. I wasn't intending for you to get caught in it. "

" Yes, you were only aiming at my friend. " You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. You ignore the tickle in the back of your throat.

Pentious stood up straighter and he looked like he was sweating. Can snakes sweat? " Oh well . Yes. " He looked around as if looking for help then looked back at you with a cocked grin. " I am sorry for that as well?"

You shifted your weight onto one leg and made a slight frown. " Well, did you apologize to him?"

" Yesss...."

You look at him up and down. Then make a shrug. " Fine. " You crack a smile. " I dont care actually. Not that you could actually hurt Alastor. I've never seen anyone hurt him. At least, not since he got down here. " You make a small laugh.

" Oh... " He blinked. " Well... Thank you?"

You hummed. " Well if that's all, I think I'll get back to moving in... "

" Oh well..."

Pentious cleared his throat and then he shifted, his eyes glanced at the sleek watch on his wrist. Like those touch screen ones that you've seen on T.V. . You look back to him for a moment and make a small hum before turning away from him and heading towards your dresser to feign looking through it. You heard his scales slide across the carpet and a small thump of the door closing behind him. You glance back over towards the door.

" Vox. Silly man. Really needs to learn how to be more creative. " You mutter under your breath.

He wouldn't last the day.

You look around the room and tap your foot. Maybe you should spuce up the place a bit. Maybe before dinner, you had a few hours. You slipped on your peacoat and smoothed your hair out before you left your new room. You made note of the location in the hallway and headed for the elevator you had seen at the end of the hallway. You hoped it worked. You clicked the button and it buzzed to life with creakig cogs and a little bit of green crackle to it. You winced a little and took a breath as the doors slid open. You stepped on it and clicked the button for the bottom floor. You looked up at the top and made note of your floor number.

Okay. You hate this thing.

It creaked and shook as if moved down, it's decent was agonizing slow as well. Now you see why everyone just took the stairs.

Your nerves were on end by the time the metal box you were in settled on the bottom floor and the bell dinged to signal your destination had been reached. You shake your hands and let out a breath as the doors slid back open.

"Never again." You whisper as you left the confines of the elevator.

Your shoulders were grabbed almost immediately. You make a shocked gasp. Charlie had a hold of you, and she was a lot stronger then she looked as she moved you to the side part of the lobby with couches and chairs arranged. You were shoved into a seat without much ceremony and Charlie sat beside you in the middle of the couch. You blinked and looked next to you. Alastor looked like he had been snatched up. The reluctant audience around you told you that most of them were either threatened by the small Vaggie or snagged by Charlie. A plate of cookies sat on the table in front of you.

Alastor's knee was next to yours and he crossed his legs, his hoof touched the bottom of your shin occasionally. " Ah, Y/N, it seems as though you have been coerced into watching this ...." He made a hum and his eyebrow twitched. " Play. "

Oh God. Oh God. So close. You haven't sat this close to him in years. Decades maybe. Your throat felt tight.

You put on a smile. " Ah yes, I was about to run a few errands and-"

Charlie shushed and patted your arm. She made a small squeal. " It's starting!"

You look ahead. Maybe you could focus on this.

Alastor was drumming his fingers on his knees. He was bored and irritated, though he was placating the princess. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, he wasn't really watching the show. You look back ahead, trying to keep your focus on that. Not the taste of ginger and the smell of old wood. His hoof grazed against your shin again. Your eyes drawn to him. He was still so handsome. Even down here.

His already sharp features made sharper down in hell then when he was alive.

Your stomach churned as you swallowed and looked back ahead.

You can do this.

"Y/N, what would you prefer to eat for dinner tonight?" Alastor's voice was right in your ear. The filter dropped for a moment as he had leaned down close and didn't want the rest of the audience to hear.

" I.... Well whatever you are in the mood for Al. You know I've never been picky when it comes to your cooking." You manage out. You couldn't think right now, you focused on not letting the cough bubbling in your throat out.

He made a chuckle. " Alright, fresh meat. I can pick it up after this travisty. "

You nod and give a smile, you look back to your lap. Your fingers curled around the fabric of your peacoat. Breath. Breath normally. You could feel his gaze on you, it lingered longer then normal.

When Charlie stood up to clap, you were immediately on your feet. You excused yourself, covering your mouth with the handkerchief in your pocket. You walked as quickly as you could while everyone was distracted and made your way to the closest exit. You coughed gently at first but then it turned to hacking. Petals fell in wads and clumps. It felt like your lungs were on fire.

You dug your nails into the wood of the outside wall of the hotel. The petals scattered in the lawn in front of you. Your eyes started to sting and you wiped your mouth off. You shook your head. You took a breath. Just relax.

You stomp the petals into the ground with your heel and head for the cobblestone pathway ahead. Go get a few things from your old place and pick up something new.

A trip to the shopping district of the Pentagram could do you some good. Some fresh air, and give you time to mentally prepare. You and Alastor are just friends. That's all. You clutch your chest a little as you make your way out of the gates of the Hotel grounds.

Thankfully it was easy to get to the shopping district from here, store fronts littered with different ads and some filled with television screens and people clammering for whatever product was on sale. You shook your head and stepped up to cross the busy street. You glanced around and took a step out. You skidded to stop as a limo pulled in front of you. Black with blue undertones. Flashy and new.

The window rolled down.

" Y/N, fancy seeing you here. " A shark tooth grin. Bright blue and glowing.

" Vox. "

Taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @kerosene--lamp @girl-nahh-two @phoephan-123

[mamayan]

Hii can I request Gyomei x prostitute fem reader nsfw.....plsss

Gyomei Himejima x Fem! Reader

cw: NSFW • Darker Themes • Attempted murder (of reader) • Fem! Reader • prostitute reader • Fluff/Comfort • Size kink • Breeding kink • Sub/switch! Reader • Edging/Denial • Overstimulation • Oral (F)

“Namu Amida Butsu. Pitiful creature.” He doesn’t need vision to understand what was going on in the lively square of the red district tonight.

Normally a bubble of carnal desires and pleasure, many forgot the festering underbelly of this part of the city. He’s on a mission, needs to focus and do his job, but something keeps stopping him.

Possibly the kakushi by his side crying softly, pitying the poor soul on a trial meant to convict whether the offending party is guilty or not. How can an upright samurai be in the wrong in any way? It must be the fault of the lowly whore which should have known her place. Such disgusting beliefs made his gut churn, but he’s aware there is little one can do in this situation.

He needs to leave, walk away, and kill the demon living just on the outskirts of this district.

So why won’t his feet move?

“This bitch is getting what she deserves, and let her serve as a warning to all the workers in the district!”

“Oh no, is he going to decapitate her?!” The kakushi beside him gasps in horror, drawing his focus away from his chants to regain his will power and instead breaking his concentration as he focuses on the slurred drunk words of a man. The crowd is thickening, attention drawn to the spectacle but most of all, the promise of blood shed. “Gyomei-sama…” it would appear the kakushi wishes him to intervene.

He can’t. He’s not supposed to anyway. He knows nothing of the woman’s crimes nor any clear indication on how to pass judgement.

“For trying to run from the great Habuyoshi who mearly admired the beauty! For daring to raise these weak fists at the great Habuyoshi! For biting the dick of the great Habuyoshi! I am putting this filthy dog down!” The crowd was cheering, jeering him on, even begging he kill her after violating her for the crowd to watch, or wanting to do it themselves. Gyomei had heard the red light district was filled with glistening gold and red, and it enrages his heart to think such an auspicious color is tied to such a festering diseased place. No one won here. Ever.

Before the kakushi could move, he’d already made his presence known, easily knocking the samurai unconscious.

The crowd stared in awe and fear of the enormous man wielding only prayer beads, defeating the well known samurai of the area so easily with only a single blow.

“Who owns this prostitute?”

None speak up for a moment, tension thick in the air as a savior appears for a once thought dead woman.

“M-me…” an elderly woman far past her prime shakily steps out, her guilty and shifty expression not seen by the man looking at nothing, but her nervous energy radiated off in waves for all to feel.

“I’ll buy her.”

“Gyomei-sama?!”

“Huh—?”

You awoke with minimal pain.

The jarring events of the night prior swirling in your mind and dumbfounding you because what was that?

You nearly died because a strange man grabbed you off the street while you were running an errand and tried to rape you in an alley way. Of course you fought back, but it seems that’s a crime if the perpetrator is stronger than you.

Tears fell despite your anger. You were no longer a prostitute, your freedom seemingly bought out of kindness but you knew not to trust anything given freely. There’s always a price, and your life thus far had taught you to be witty and at least somewhat charming. Though it hardly did much for you last night when the crowd roared for your execution like your life meant so little.

Your new owner is more terrifying than your previous house mother. At least she’d been open about her greedy vile mindset, but this man is nothing short of an enigma. Why did he save you? What is the purpose? What should you do now? It left you riddled with anxiety as you sat in a bed more comfortable than you could ever remember sleeping in, the blankets and pillows too of better quality than the red light district ever provided even for the top courtesans. You’d been given plain but high quality clothing as well, allowed to bathe alone, and then fed a vegetarian meal so delicious you wondered if the Buddhist monks had it much better than you gave them credit for.

Now you slept, in a room all to yourself, with no idea of what was to come next.

Did he want you as a wife? That didn’t seem right though. He didn’t appear the romantic type, and his size alone mildly frightened you despite his soft demeanor and speech. Were you to act as a servant? Did he wish to sell you to another area and call it good karma, leaving the matter as that? It ate away until you could no longer stand it, rising from the bed you longed to stay in forever, and slipping out of your room to explore the estate.

It’s shockingly empty.

Not a soul in sight as you explored, stealing bread from the kitchen as you walked, pondering the possibility of ghost servants. You felt silly and dismissed it, but the eerie silence was begining to get to you. You turned and headed for an opening, finally finding a serene courtyard. You were awestruck by the landscape, attention quickly caught as you spot a small pond with a bridge.

Hope bloomed and then flourished as you spotted several fat pretty koi swimming about, different colored patterns moving around and hypnotizing you.

“Ssshhwink!” You jolted in shock at the loud sound of a blade being struck, eyes honing in on the source as you see a training ground of sort in the distance.

Shock was the least of your current emotions as you watched the enormous man, your supposed savior for now, swing around an axe and spiked flail attached to a very long chain. Surrounding him were multiple dummies, made from steel, as if you weren’t already shocked silly. For someone so large, he was graceful and fast, skilled in each tiny movement and it nearly made you think of a dance you’d seen long ago at a festival when you were a child.

He’s no one ordinary. That’s clear enough, and he’s not a samurai it seemed either.

He could kill you quicker than that man before and he could’ve killed that man too but chose not to. Your heart trembled, because you knew those that hesitated left empty handed, and if his goal was merely to rescue and abandon you then you’d find yourself back to being sold off or worse.

You needed him to keep you, no matter how his appearance made your knees weak.

“Are you hungry?”

One week. You’d been in his estate one week and this was the first conversation you’d had with him since that night he saved you.

“Namu Amida Butsu. Thank you.” He accepts the lunch you prepared, as you learned fast that once he’d brought you into his estate, he’d been abandoned by his cooks. His servants who cleaned or kept things in order were incredibly well trained and avoided you similarly. You’d been cooking his meals and leaving them outside his room in the morning, and he’d usually be gone for most of the day until very late evening where you’d leave his dinner outside his small study or prayer room.

This was your first chance to initiate contact with him, and it made you swallow your nerves as you came up eye level with his abdomen. He accepts the tray, sitting at the small table in the open courtyard. He repeats his chants while you observe him up close for a moment.

He is handsome in a rugged way. His scars surprisingly only adding character. His thin lips and long lashes would’ve made many woman jealous as well.

“This is very delicious. You’re a good cook.” You startle lightly from your day dream as you stare at him with wide eyes, his face still tilted down as he eats.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hadn’t expected to find your company so pleasant.

Your presence was easy, comfortable and enjoyable after you warmed up more, chattering away similarly to the love Hashira at times. It made a strange sort of fondness form in his chest as he listens to your opinion on cherry blossom season, and why mochi is best served cold.

He finds himself rushing now after missions to return to his estate, something he’d never have done in the past. If only to hear your greeting of “welcome home” which makes the estate he’d been given actually feel like one.

You held his hand a few days ago, pulling him quickly and quietly to feel the soft fur of a sleeping cat you’d taken to adopting. He remembers the feel of your skin, the fragility of your hand within his, and how tiny you are. It shouldn’t affect him like this. Yet even as he sits below the icy fall of water in a lotus pose, his aching erection won’t ebb.

He’s ashamed the first time he wraps one big calloused palm around his leaking shaft and fucks his fist to the thought of you.

He’s even more ashamed when those thoughts haunt him in your presence.

He’s alarmed however when he wakes tonight to the sound of his shoji sliding open. Not by the intruder, your footsteps much louder ironically when you attempt to be quiet, but by the timing.

He released his cock and laid still, strangely nervous to appear asleep should you check.

Why were you in his room?

He chants in his mind when he hears fabric rustling, then a plop on the floor as something slides and falls. Were you… undressing?

His room felt hotter, or it may have possibly been him, as the sound of you nearing alerts him to a reason you’re here tonight.

“I know you are awake.” You sound bemused.

“I know you should be in bed.” He replies more shakily than he’d hoped to sound.

“I am trying, but you won’t seem to move over for me.” His breath hitches, and before he can think he’s scooting aside and feeling anxious for the first time in a long time. He’s too old now to be fearful of such a tiny woman, your charms and allure certainly difficult to dismiss but you shouldn’t make his hands sweat like this.

“Fuck,” he doesn’t mean to curse, but when you press your nude figure tight against his side, he nearly embarrasses himself by finishing what he’d started before you’d interrupted. Not that he nor his cock minded your company, in fact it twitched as if excited about your presence.

“It feels better if you face me.”

“What are you doing?” He feels flustered, hands desperate to grab you but unsure exactly if he should.

“Seducing you…?” He hears now the unsure tone you speak with, the way your fingers curl into his yukata to prevent him from pushing you away. He shifts and turns, the futon thankfully custom for his size and fitting you fully as he finally touches you. Your face first at least.

“Are you looking at me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I pretty?” He chuckles, smile making you press your thighs together due to the sheer masculine charm he oozed.

“You are soft.” He drops his voice as he presses a hand to the middle of your back and pulls you closer. His body radiates heat like none other you’ve ever felt, all pillowy muscles and smelling of sandalwood and sage, and something else beneath it that made your teeth ache. “You are considerate and empathetic.” His hands smooth over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. “You are cute and witty, I find I laugh most in your presence.” His thumbs lightly graze over your eyes. “You are intelligent. I feel I can confide in you and be understood.” Down your jaw and chest, over your shoulders and down your arms to your hands shaking lightly. “You are also mischievous, I never know what you’ll come up with…” his hands come back up, one loosely and easily encircling your entire throat. “Like sneaking into a man’s room in the middle of the night and climbing into his bed naked.” He means to sound chastising but his lust is difficult to mask. Your giggle lets him know you take it lightly.

“Not some man’s room… your room, Gyomei.”

It’s like you want to set him off.

“Should I go?” He can’t deny the way it ignites him to have you here.

“No.” He groans lightly, hands finally taking the dip you’d both been aching for and feeling your chest. “You don’t get to leave now. At least not until you explain what is it is you search for.”

“Relief?” He frowns, but becomes quickly distracted by the malleable flesh in his hands, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples and drawing little sighs from you.

“A-and… I guess confirmation.” He pinches on little bud, rewarded with a tiny moan and the arching of your back.

“Confirmation for what?” He murmurs, debating if you being atop him would be easier.

“That you like me.” He halts, startled by the confession.

“You thought I didn’t like you?” He clarifies, finally deciding and easily lifting you up by the hips to sit on his stomach, thighs on either side of him.

“I didn’t know if it was the sort between lovers or not…” he nods, finally understanding.

“I want you deeply, sweet girl.” He doesn’t miss the shiver which shakes you when he calls you that, smile tilting higher into a crooked smirk as he lifts his hands and runs them over your ass, gently squeezing each cheek and then moving to touch your thighs.

You don’t speak as he feels you up, quiet aside from small pleasurable mewls when he plays with your breasts or spreads your ass and let’s cool air hit your cunt.

“Do you touch yourself?”

“Y-yes…?”

“To the thought of me?” You feel your body heat.

“Yes. Always to the thought of you.” Your answer makes him groan, hips rutting up into nothing as he squeezes your hips.

“What do I do to you then, in your fantasies.” He’s desperate to know, desperate to recreate it. Your nails dig into the muscle on his chest, dwarfed on top of him like this.

“Oh, well, I… sit on your face.” He quirks a brow at the odd fantasy, unfamiliar with such an act.

“And do what?”

“Let you lick me, down here.” He allows you to guide his hand to the warmest place on your body, his mind blanking as he realizes.

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to do that though, let’s do what you want—oh!” He’s hauling you up like a doll onto his face, thighs spread on either side and your pussy spread and easily accessible now for his mouth. Gyomei doesn’t hesitate now, tongue slipping out as dragging through your folds as if he’s done this before. He hasn’t but he makes up for it with his wide and powerful tongue and eagerness to learn.

“Gyomei! I—ngh~!” Your moan when he licks at your pussy is more than he ever imagined. The wanton swivel of your hips as you grind down only make him more feral, large hands firmly on your ass and keeping you pressed down. Oxygen the least of his concerns as he licks and sucks until your writhing and digging your nails into his hair while you cry out for him.

He likes this act much more than his own daydreams of being intimate with you, the heady taste of your slick and sounds of your pleasure like a drug.

“I’m going to cum—!” You’re so close it’s a wonder you don’t tip over even as he lifts you completely off his face.

“H-huh?” You sound dazed and confused, so cute it makes him want to settle you down on his face again but he stops himself.

You’re on your back, looking up at his figure not blanketing you, one arm keeping him up as he lifts your chin and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips.

“You can’t cum yet.” You feel irritable having your orgasm denied, pouty expression unseen but tone converting your emotions.

“Why?” Gyomei smiles, kissing you again and forcing your mouth open to play with your tongue, sliding his thigh between your own so you can grind on him for relief.

He breaks away with a string of saliva connecting you for a moment, warm breath fanning over you. “It will hurt taking me, but it will hurt less if you cum while I’m inserting it.”

Oh. It made sense actually.

Except he doesn’t move ahead to fucking you like you wanted, asking you for more fantasies you‘ve had of him.

“Using your fingers…” and he opened you up more than any man has ever with his fingers alone. Two alone stuffing your poor cunt seemingly to max and once more bringing you to the edge until you felt like crying when he pulled away.

“Shh,” he cooes, mildly upset he’s causing you distress and equally amused by how cute he finds your grumbling as he rearranges you again. This time he just rolls your clit gently with his thumb and kisses you, lavishing your neck in love bites you’ll surely need help covering in the morning and then giving attention to your breasts.

“Gyomei please!” Your third denial felt nearly painful, your core cramping with the desperate need for release as you wiggle and struggle beneath him.

“You’ll be very sorry if I take you now, be good for me, little lotus.” He kisses away your tears of frustration, once more spearing you open with two fingers until you’re moaning and rolling your hips into him, then he adds a third.

He stills when you hiss in pain, concern painting his features as he moves to pull them out only for your hand to stop him.

“It’s okay! I’m alright, it just stings a little.”

“We can stop here, I’ll make you cum and we can go back to sleep—,”

“No! I want you, please.”

He feels hesitant until you begin to relax, body finally accepting three fat fingers stretching your little hole out as slick drips down his palm and soaks into bed below.

“G-Gyomei please let me cum, I can take you even if I do, I just need—!” You’re so close again, but he’s stringent as he pulls free from your soft tight walls with a pop. Your whine of frustration goes ignored as he finally reaches his own limit.

“I’m going to sit you in my lap.” You’re pliant in his hold as he sits up and drags you with him, placing your back to his front as he unties his yukata and allows himself to be free. He gives himself a few pumps, balls swinging heavy as he sits down with you.

You regret looking down in curiosity. Having known some men, despite being quite big physically, can have small penises.

Gyomei isn’t one of them apparently, his caution not without cause as you see the enormous cock he carries, the thick veiny shaft frightening and leaking pre-cum like a stream. Even his balls were ridiculously large, and you briefly pondered taking his offer of going to sleep.

You shook it off as you felt a gentle kiss to your temple, body relaxing as he began another round of torture to your clit with more gentle rolls with his fingers.

“Relax for me, you’re being so good, all mine,” he’s mumbling, body tense as he holds himself back and prepares mentally to keep calm as he lifts you up and lets the plush tip kiss your entrance. Then you’re feeling pleasure and pressure like nothing you‘ve ever felt before, mind going blank as you cum while he stuffs you to full capacity, Gyomei similarly struggling as he moans feeling your gooey walls contract and try to push him out even as gravity drags you down on his cock.

“Gyo—hah—!” You can hardly breathe, body struggling to connect the pain while you’re writhing pleasure as he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up and down, still touching your swollen nub, bullying his cock into you one inch at a time. Your squeals of shock and euphoria nearly make him lose it, and when his tip finally smushes up against your cervix, he cums hard.

“I-I can feel it filling me—,” your eyes roll back as hot spurts of cum pump into your womb, Gyomei’s arm like an anchor as he groans and rocks you gentle against him.

“Feels so good…” he’d never known sex could feel like this, that you felt like this, but he’s unable to pull out despite his cock becoming sensitive. Instead he keeps you in place, plugging your little hole with his cock and keeping every drop of cum inside you where it belongs.

That thought startles him. Did he want to make you pregnant? Did he want a family?

More than anything—

Gyomei groans, hushing you as you whine and wiggle in his lap, feeling his cock swelling thick and hard again inside you. “Gyomei—s’too much,” you feel like you’ll burst, body already exhausted but he’s hardly done it seems as he begins to bounce you again, feeling more akin to a toy as his shaft splits your pussy open. The slick squelching noises blend with your moans and his grunts, his cock burying itself as deeply as possible each thrust as he murmurs praise down into your ear.

“So good for me. Taking all of me so well,”

“Do you like feeling my cum inside you? Do you want more?”

“I’m going to fill you up again, make you nice and full.”

“Going to put a baby inside you, let everyone know you’re mine now.”

You’re gone, too cock drunk to do much else but cum around him and moan, drool spilling down your chin in a thin line as he takes away all coherent thoughts.

You awake the next morning sore and groggy, face confused as you look at a room not your own.

You glance down at the arm keeping you trapped, merely draped over you but so weighted you’d need to wake him to move.

He got you filthy last night, cum coating all of you inside and out before he’d washed you and put you to bed. The memory brings heat to your face as you burry yourself into the bed and smile.

He’s yours now too.

Your story to be told as one from rags to riches.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[amiti-art]

Did you guys know that Admetus' son Eumelus was fighting in the Trojan war?

Alcestis: I worry about Eumelus, it's been 10 years. I fear we will never see him again.

Admetus: Don't worry dear, I'm sure Apollo is watching over him, like he always watched over our family.

Meanwhile in Troy

Apollo: *kills dozens of Greeks with the plague. Constantly protects Hector and makes sure he can kill as many Greeks as humanly possible. Helps Trojan princes kill Greeks' best warriors*

Eumelus after seeing all of this: mom come pick me up I'm scared

But all jokes aside

Can you imagine Eumelus coming back home and seeing Apollo visiting his parents?

He sees Apollo being loving and kind to Admetus, he sees Apollo being gentle and friendly with Alcestis. He saw that his entire childhood, he saw the god of music, knowledge, light and poetry.

But now, after the war, Eumelus can't help but only see the god of plagues, the destroyer of men. He can't forget the horrible smell of disease and rotting human flesh, he can't forget what happend in Troy.

Obviously, it's not only one sided. Eumelus was fighting in this war, he helped destroy the city, he does have blood on his hands. And that could make him even more terrified of Apollo. Because he helped destroy the city that was under Apollo's protection.

What if one of the man he killed had Apollo's favour like Hector did? What if the only thing standing between him and Apollo's rage are his parents? What if Apollo is waiting for them to pass away to punish Eumelus? He can be patient, he's a god after all, he have all the time in the world. What if Pherae (their polis) will lose Apollo's favour with Admetus' death? What if Apollo will send a plague upon them as soon as Eumelus takes his father's throne? He can't stop thinking about all of this every time he sees Apollo.

I also like to think that Apollo did protect Eumelus despite being on the other side of the war. After all, Eumelus didn't die during the plage. He didn't die in the last battle despite being on the front line, inside of the Trojan horse. He made it home while most of the Greeks didn't.

He had and still have Apollo's favour, he just can't see it through his fear.