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joonie-beanie · 7 months ago

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A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself.

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked.

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask.

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”.

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building.

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands.

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment.

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say.

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket.

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours.

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you.

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today.

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day.

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you.

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be.

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright.

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat.

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy—

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening.

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice.

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks.

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm.

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back.

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat.

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him.

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette.

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass.

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay.

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe.

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart.

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours.

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop.

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body.

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm.

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you.

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt.

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head.

Finally, you're bare beneath him.

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass.

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before.

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger.

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away.

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!”

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much.

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair.

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.”

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you.

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is.

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension.

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole.

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom.

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin.

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours.

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body.

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more.

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go.

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss.

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm.

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you.

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent.

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips.

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you.

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you.

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you.

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek.

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy.

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station.

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office.

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more.

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes.

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body.

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment.

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze.

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

#genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette fic #genshin impact x reader #bean fic #genshin x reader

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rowarn · 1 year ago

Text

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.

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“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.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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plutotheplum · 3 months ago

Text

Felt Good About You

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: delivering a revised manuscript to your editor turns into something more.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, post-time skip, oral sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, handjob, p in v

wc: 4.8k

a/n: i'm afraid i have the fattest crush on akaashi

also on ao3!

“The romance isn’t working.”

You groan when your editor pushes your manuscript for this week’s chapter towards you. You didn’t need any more bumps in the road, not when you were already running behind on deadlines, with the publishing company breathing down your neck to get the next volume out.

“The romance is fine, Akaashi” you mumble, flicking through the pages of the manuscript to skim through his notes.

“If it was fine, I wouldn’t be here,” he replies dryly.

Akaashi was as blunt as ever. Most of the time you appreciated his honesty, he was the reason for such success with your manga after all, but sometimes he managed to get on your nerves.

“It’s an unnecessary subplot,” he continues, flipping through a couple of pages to show you a few of the panels you had drawn, “there’s just no plausible progression between the two, no chemistry.”

You glare at him. He was really starting to get on your nerves. Akaashi rolls his eyes when he sees your glare, reaching out to flick your forehead.

“You’re already behind on the scheduled publishing date,” he reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest, “and I get the short end of the stick because I’m your editor.”

“The higher-ups love you,” you retort.

You stare pointedly at the small stash of awards that were tucked onto a shelf in his office, the small trophies and plaques a clear display of the company’s commendation for his work.

“Not enough to let me work in the literature department,” he mutters bitterly.

“I’m right here!” you protest, an exasperated expression spreading across your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Akaashi murmurs.

He taps your manuscript a few more times before giving you a stern look.

“Get me the revised version by tonight, otherwise you’ll miss out on this week’s issue.”

You curse him under your breath, giving him one final glare as you gather the pages of your manuscript into your hands. You had come into his office thinking he’d been fine with the story, but now you had somehow ended up with more work than before, and an even tighter deadline.

A few hours later, you end up finding yourself outside Akaashi’s apartment. Guilt had won out in the end, and you figured that it wasn’t fair to let him take the blame for your tardiness. Revised manuscript clutched against your chest, you ring his doorbell.

You can feel your throat dry when he opens up the door. His hair is damp, towel slung around the back of his neck. He’s wearing an old volleyball shirt with sweatpants, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him looking so domestic.

Akaashi stares at you blankly, clearly not expecting you. Usually you would’ve just emailed the revised manuscript over to him, not show up outside his door.

“I felt guilty,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing at the awkwardness in the air, “and- and I ordered gyoza so it should be here in a few minutes.”

“Right,” he says after a moment, “you didn’t have to.”

You stare at each other for a moment longer until he sighs, opening the door wider to let you in.

“You’re just as bad as Bokuto,” he informs you.

The mention of the pro-volleyball player makes a smile spread across your face. You had met Akaashi’s volleyball friends a few times when they had enlisted your help in throwing Akaashi a surprise birthday party - which had maybe ended up in a disaster - as well as when you had wound up to a few of their games.

“He’s a sweet guy,” you reply, handing him your manuscript.

Akaashi only hums in response, walking over to his desk. He hangs his towel on the back of his chair before sitting down. You watch as he slips his glasses on, examining the pages of your now edited work.

“I thought you’d try and fight me about the romance,” he murmurs, his pen making a few adjustments here and there.

“Figured it wasn’t worth it,” you sigh, slumping on the couch in his living room, “you were right, as always.”

He peers over at you, his eyes narrowing as he watches the sulky look on your face. Despite your random bouts of laziness, even Akaashi had to agree that you were a good mangaka whose popularity had built up a loyal reader base.

“Look,” Akaashi says, setting his pen down, “if you’re that hung up about cutting those scenes, start drafting it now.”

Your gaze shoots up to meet his eyes.

“Seriously?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Akaashi was dedicated, sure, but he wasn’t exactly one to take on extra work. Sometimes you felt as though he would’ve been right at home in the literature department, editing novels instead of volumes of manga. It was like he worked with you out of obligation, not enjoyment, despite the friendship you had built up over the years.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing his glasses up a bit further to sit better on the slope of his nose, “I’m serious.”

You don’t get to dwell any longer on your editor’s change in mind, the sound of the doorbell piercing through your conversation. Akaashi waves you away when you move towards the door, grabbing the delivered containers of gyoza himself.

He sits down beside you on the couch, handing you one container whilst he takes the other. For some reason, you’re feeling more on edge than usual. The brush of his arm against yours has heat rising to your cheeks, body growing taut with the way your stomach is swirling with nervousness.

It was no secret that Akaashi was one of the most handsome men in the office, and you had maybe developed a tiny crush on the man, which was now inflating into something that was not so tiny, and much, much harder to control the more time you spent with him.

“You okay?” Akaashi asks, peering over you.

You don’t trust yourself enough to reply which is why you stuff a gyoza into your mouth and nod rapidly.

Silence lapses over you both as you eat, but you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. You pretend not to notice, trying to engross yourself in the taste of the gyoza and the tang of soy sauce.

Akaashi slouches slightly, his body relaxing as time passes. You can see it in the way his shoulders drop, his thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable.

“Instead of adding romance as a subplot, why don’t you make it into another story altogether?”

You blink over at him, surprised.

“I don’t have time to write another manga,” you say, shaking your head, “I’d have to find another publisher if I wanted to write something that was purely romance.”

“Shonen manga in the romance genre exist,” he replies, running his hand through his hair, “or you could just self-publish.”

You’d been hoping to avoid the topic of self-publishing. Sure, you knew of it, participated in it even. It’d been used as a creative outlet, to get out some ideas that you couldn’t work on when your success as a mangaka had grown. Besides, it wasn’t like you could tell Akaashi that you had drawn up stories that were, well, inappropriate.

“But that would be too much work,” you sigh, trying to stop his train of thought.

Akaashi stares at you thoughtfully. The more you spend time with him, the more you begin to regret your choice to come here. Emailing the manuscript to him would’ve been the smarter choice, but you just had to feel sorry for the guy.

“I did read one the other day that had a similar art style to yours.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel your composure slipping. There was no way he could know that you self-published stories that were practically panel after panel of porn. Maybe he enjoyed it? One thought leads to another and you find yourself imagining Akaashi with his hand wrapped around his cock, his head tipped back as he strokes himself.

“What was it about?” you manage to grit out, trying to see through the haze of your indecent thoughts.

“About a couple,” he says simply, “they ended up fucking.”

You can feel the hope swirling in your mind fade. Akaashi definitely knew.

“Didn’t know you read that sort of thing.”

“I’m a man, aren’t I? Sometimes porn just doesn’t cut it. The story was pretty great too.”

He thought the story was great? You can’t help yourself from perking up, the compliment making you feel warm.

“I just find it so strange,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

You swallow harshly, mustering up a smile with your trembling lips, “why’s that?”

“The author’s note,” Akaashi says, “the little bunny avatar was the same as yours.”

So, you had messed up. You spy the front door from the corner of your eyes. If you walked, you’d get there in about ten steps, but if you ran, you’d get there in about three - maybe two - strides. Sure, you wouldn’t ever be able to face Akaashi again, but you think you’d be fine with it. Report filed to the higher ups stating creative differences and you’d be able to find a new editor, no problem.

“It’s all probably just a coincidence,” you say nonchalantly, “plenty of people like bunnies.”

“Some of the dialogue was similar to yours, distinct writing and all that.”

You grit your teeth. The man didn’t know when to let go.

“Like I said, coincidence.”

“Right,” he says, nodding along, “a coincidence. Was it also a coincidence that the couple that had sex was a mangaka and her editor?”

You scramble to your feet when he says that. Letting out an awkward laugh, your cheeks heated with embarrassment, you decide that this is the best time to take your leave.

“Have- have a good night!” you say, voice pitching.

Determination has Akaashi’s eyes gleaming and now you’re bolting, feet nearly tripping over each other as you dart towards his apartment door. It seems as though fate isn’t in your favor tonight, Akaashi’s hand curling around your wrist as he catches onto you before you can open the door. You squeak when he slams his hand against the wall, right next to your head as he pushes you up against the door.

“Classic scene,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your meek expression, “you always use it.”

“Fuck off, Akaashi!” you snap, pushing at his chest.

It’s a struggle, but you reach back behind you, hand grabbing blindly for the door handle. He doesn’t let you reach it, catching your wrist and pinning it against the door.

“You sure?” Akaashi asks, his eyes darkened, “or maybe you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, mouth opening before closing again. There’s nothing left in you, no retorts, no words to get yourself out of this situation. He lets out a sigh when he feels your body relax, his hand on your wrist loosening as he lets go. You stare up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“You should’ve said something,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

“And embarrass myself?” you mutter, picking at the wool of your sweater.

Akaashi doesn’t say anything, his hand smoothing up your hip and settling on your waist. Your eyes widen, arousal shooting through your body as he presses himself closer, his other hand finding your waist. Akaashi squeezes gently and you bite back a whine, eyes drooping slightly as he just squeezes and pets at your sides.

“It was good,” he says hoarsely, “the story, the details, the sex… came to it a couple of times.”

“You- you liked it?” you whisper, voice airy.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, his eyes meeting yours, “liked it… like you.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, your heart thudding in your chest. You never dreamt it’d come down to this, but you find yourself grateful for Akaashi’s observational nature.

He takes his glasses off, placing them into his pocket. Akaashi’s lips drag across your cheek, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He kisses the corner of your mouth, lips brushing against yours gently.

“Kiss me, Akaashi” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says softly, “yeah, I’ll kiss you, baby.”

A contented sigh escapes you as he slots his lips over yours, kissing you gently. The heat between you begins to grow, his hands slipping under your sweater to feel your bare skin. You gasp into his mouth, his hands surprisingly warm.

Akaashi smiles against your lips, his hand running up your back as his kisses turn hungrier, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him lick into your mouth, tugging at his hair desperately. Rocking up onto the tips of your toes, you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer.

He wraps his arms around your waist, groaning when your nails scratch his scalp fleetingly. You bite your kiss-swollen lip as he drags his lips down your neck, landing heated kisses to your skin.

Akaashi kisses the pulse of your throat, his lips finding their way back to yours. Soft pants fill the air, his smile hazy as he peers down at you. You smile back, head tilting to the side to let him kiss your cheek again.

“You’re such a dork,” he whispers, his eyes twinkling.

“Shut up,” you whine, pushing at his chest.

He grins, his hands grasping yours. Akaashi pulls you away from the door, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. You laugh, legs wrapping around his waist, lips pressing against his as he carries you to his bed.

Akaashi lays you down on his bed and you watch with half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt off. He might not have played as competitively like he did in highschool, but you had been there when he had played with his friends. It’d been entrancing to watch the way he had set the ball for his friends, the ball curving through the air cleanly for the spiker to hit.

“‘s not fair how good you look,” you grumble, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“You look pretty good yourself,” Akaashi says, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.

You lift your arms for him, letting him pull it off of you. His gaze fixes on the swell of your breasts and you flush, looking away.

“You’re shy now?” He murmurs, a soft laugh escaping him as he kisses your jaw.

“You’re such a jerk,” you huff out.

Akaashi smiles and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to be truly angry with him. He’s patient more than anything, caring and always honest. You’ve never met a man like him, never met someone who could quell your worries the way he could. It makes you want to never let go.

His body settles between your thighs, his nimble fingers pulling your bra free. Your nipples pebble in the cold air and Akaashi leans forward, his hot, wet mouth enveloping a hard bud into his mouth.

You whine brokenly, back arching slightly as he sucks your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. He groans as you run your fingers through his hair, his mouth suctioning around your breast for a few moments before he pulls off with a pop.

His mouth finds your other breast, kissing the side of it, mouthing at your skin. You can feel his tongue caress the underside of it, laving across your breast before he bites gently at your flesh, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he whispers against your breast.

You shake your head, mewling when his hand slides up, his fingers pitching at your spit-coated nipples. He rests his head between your breasts, watching you contentedly as you writhe under the onslaught of his touches.

“A- Akaashi,” you whimper, hips bucking, “want- want more, please.”

“So polite, baby” he coos, his hands groping at your breasts.

He pulls away from you and you whine, lifting your hips for him when he peels your pants off. There’s a moment of silence and you’re anticipating the feel of his mouth on your body, only for him to let out a low laugh.

“Bunnies til the end, huh?” Akaashi asks, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

Your brows furrow, not quite sure what he’s talking about until you prop yourself on your elbows and see that you’re wearing a pair of bunny-patterned panties.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, slumping back down onto the bed and slinging your arm over your eyes.

“They’re cute,” he smiles, prying your arm away from your face, “just like you, baby.”

Akaashi grasps one of your legs, bringing it to his mouth as he runs his hand along the length of it, kissing the sole of your foot and then your ankle. A soft hum leaves you, watching as he kisses up your leg, his kisses feather-light.

You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses the little bow on your panties, his nose pressing between your clothed folds to breathe you in.

“Pussy’s soaked through,” Akaashi murmurs, pulling back to look at your dampened panties.

“‘s your fault,” you slur, trying to push his face back to where you want it.

“All my fault,” he agrees, his tongue licking up over your panties, “guess I’ll have to take care of you then.”

You nod, trying to stop the little twitches that shoot through your body. Akaashi lets his mouth latch onto you, trying to suck the slick that’s soaked through the fabric of your panties.

“A- ah!” you pant, fingers fisting his hair as he squeezes your hips, his face nuzzling deeper between your thighs.

Akaashi’s lithe fingers pull at your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

“Always so pretty, baby” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds to expose your pussy.

He moans when he sees the translucent strings of arousal that cling to your folds, his tongue darting out to lick up the little strings. You whimper when he kisses your clit gently, watching as he rubs the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit. Thighs twitching, you shift, trying to tilt your hips a little higher so you can feel his mouth on you.

“Ask for it,” Akaashi says, his cheek pressing against your thigh as he stares up at you.

“‘m not- ‘m not asking for it,” you retort, glaring at him.

“Bet it’d feel good,” he whispers, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

You whine when he just keeps his tongue there, saliva dripping from the tip of it and onto your pussy. He makes an obscene noise, gathering some more saliva, spitting on your cunt.

“All you gotta do is ask,” he coaxes, his arms wrapping around your thighs, “clit looks so achy… makes me wanna kiss it better.”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Akaashi smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling.

You’ll have to get him back for his teasing later, but right now you can’t wait.

“Please lick my pussy!”

You squeal when he latches his mouth onto you again, his tongue lapping over your wet pussy. He groans and you tug at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head as he laves his tongue over you greedily, letting his tongue dip into your hole before he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Legs kicking out, you let out a strangled noise as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Akaashi lands the filthiest kisses to your clit, alternating between sucking and little pecks, while he’s sunk two fingers inside of you. They curl up inside of you, grazing your sensitive spot perfectly. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, your wanton noises filling his bedroom.

Akaashi presses his face deeper, his fingers crooking. The feeling of his mouth in tandem with his fingers has you whimpering and whining, airy noises spilling from your lips at his ministrations. You might not ever be able to go without him ever again.

He holds you in place as you thrash, the overwhelming feeling inside of you building and building. Akaashi slips his fingers out of you in favor of devouring your cunt again, licking through your velvety folds, his tongue swirling before he presses it inside of you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls.

You blink down at him dazedly. There’s a light flush covering his cheeks, his mouth glistening with your wetness. He opens his mouth to say something else but you ignore him, pushing his head so that his lips are flush against your cunt. Akaashi lets out a muffled laugh against your pussy, his tongue licking over you again.

Hand squeezing at your breast, you bite your lip, losing yourself in the caress of his tongue. He laps over you, again and again, pressing sloppy kisses to your clit.

“Gonna come,” you whisper, feeling the softness of his hair under your palm, “gonna come, ‘kaashi.”

He tilts your hips a little more, rising up onto his knees with your legs slung over his shoulders. You squeal again when he shakes his head, tongue dragging from side to side before he plunges it inside of you, his thumb pressing against your clit at the same time.

Your thighs squeeze tightly around his head as you come, loosening after a while when twitches rack through your body. Akaashi squeezes your thighs, lets your legs slip from his shoulders as he kisses your trembling thighs.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Akaashi kisses your cheek and wipes the stray curls of your hair away from your face. A soft sheen of sweat covers your body and he hums, smoothing his thumbs over the underside of your breasts.

He lays down beside you and you curl up beside him, eyes catching on the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Need some help?” you murmur, fingers dragging down his chest.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.

You smile, kissing his jaw gently as your hand slides past his navel, disappearing into his sweatpants. The weight of his cock is heavy and hot and Akaashi moans softly when your hand curls around his length.

“Ask for it, ‘kaashi,” you whisper, voice lilting.

“You’re such a brat,” he mutters.

“Use your manners, Keiji.”

His eyes widen when you use his name and you grin, landing a soft kiss to his cheek as your breasts squish up against his bicep. You squeeze around his cock and he lets out a soft whine, his hips bucking.

“Fuck- fuck hah-,” Akaashi grits out, “stroke my cock, baby, hm? Please?”

You hum softly, beginning to move your hand. His thick cock twitches as you stroke him, your wrist rotating.

He pants softly, his head turning to meet yours. You smile, running your fingers through his hair, brushing the soft strands out of his eyes. Affection bursts inside of you, heart fluttering as the flush on his cheeks deepens.

His brows have drawn together and you smooth your thumb over them, peppering soft kisses over his face, leg slinging over his as you pull down his sweatpants to free his cock completely. Akaashi’s cock has filled out, pre-cum smearing across his abdomen. You caress the head of it, giggling when he lets out a broken moan as you rub your thumb against the tip.

“You look so handsome,” you say, stroking his cock a little faster.

Akaashi smiles and you dip your head, kissing him. He groans, his hips chasing after the feeling of your hand around him as you kiss. Your hand tightens a little, squeezing at the tip of his cock. Pre-cum wets your hand, soft gasps escaping Akaashi as you let your tongue slip into his mouth.

“Keiji,” you whisper, lips brushing over his, “Keiji, will you fuck me?”

You squeak in surprise when he manages to grab onto your waist, lifting you up and placing you on his lap. His cock is snug between your folds and you whine, dragging your hips along the length of it, biting your lip as more pre-cum leaks from him.

“Sit on my cock, baby” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your thighs.

You nod, shifting a little so that you’re up on your knees. Akaashi watches as you grip the base of his cock, moaning when you rub his cock against your pussy, letting it catch on your clit. Akaashi’s head tips back as you sink down, whimpery, little noises leaving you as your pussy swallows up his cock.

It’s so thick inside of you, fitting so snugly that you clench around him. Akaashi wraps an arm around your waist, bringing your front flush against him. He lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, his arms tightening around your waist. You can feel him move, his feet flat against the bed as he bends his knees.

“K- Keiji!” you wail when he begins to fuck up into you.

Akaashi grunts, holding you against him as he moves his hips, rutting up into you. His hands grope at your ass, gripping your ass tightly as he moves a little more forcefully. You bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck, pressing sloppy kisses against his skin as you smooth your hand over his hair.

“Is this- fuck,” Akaashi grits out, “is this what you imagined when you drew up those panels?”

You nod, too far gone to cling onto the remnants of your stubbornness.

“Yeah?” he whispers, “imagined me fucking up into you, huh?”

“Y- yes!” you cry out, body squirming when he lands a heavy spank to your ass.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

A soft mewl leaves you at the praise, your hips swaying back lazily to meet his thrusts. The sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoes through his room, your wetness leaking around his cock and coating his balls.

Your body rocks against his, your hand gripping at the sheets beside his head when he adjusts his grip on you, planting his feet a bit firmer against his mattress to thrust into you harder. You gasp at the sensation, sinking your teeth into his shoulder when his cock hits deep inside of you.

Akaashi hisses at the feeling of your teeth, spanking your ass again before you clench around him with a scream, body shuddering on top of his as you come.

“Baby, baby, you gotta let go,” he rasps.

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing your hips down so that it swallows his cock all the way to the base.

“Inside, Keiji.”

He groans, his hands kneading at your hips roughly. You can feel the twitch of his cock, a satisfied coo leaving your lips when he comes, spurts of his hot cum filling you up. Akaashi’s hips stutter, thrusting into you unevenly as his cock jerks, more cum flooding your pussy.

You both pant, chests heaving. Akaashi rubs his hand along your back and you emerge from the crook of his neck, a drunken smile on your face.

He laughs hoarsely at your expression, cupping your cheek to guide you into another kiss while his cock softens inside of you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind, losing yourself in the heat of his body as cum leaks from your pussy.

“How long have you known?” you ask, tracing the slope of his nose.

“About a month,” he murmurs.

“A month?” you scoff, hitting his chest, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Akaashi grins, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss across your knuckles.

“That would ruin the fun.”

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “it was hardly fun, Keiji.”

“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he whispers.

You laugh when he flips you onto your back, moaning softly when you feel his cock beginning to harden again inside of you.

“Put- put your glasses on,” you whisper, head tipping back as he rolls his hips into you.

Akaashi reaches over to dig his glasses out from the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, pushing them up to sit comfortably on his nose.

You clench around him at the sight, biting your lip as you give him a pleased smile.

“Knew you had a thing for ‘em.”

He grabs at your legs, moving them so that they’re pressed against his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders.

“Use this as inspiration, baby,” Akaashi smirks, “I’ll even edit it for you.”

#akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu smut #keiji smut #keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader

2K notes · View notes

pseudowho · 9 months ago

Note

As usual, I have no one to talk about this but... Have you seen those "mom instincts are cool, but let's talk about dad reflexes for a sec" vids???

Kento with dad reflexes? (Pretty sure he already has it when he's single or even in canon when Yuji is accompanying him in missions lmao)

I'm just in my bed giggling, kicking my feet because I can imagine him having those like when his baby girl would trip and he moves so FAST to catch her 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 man idk where I'm going with this it's just making me go skkdkddkdjd

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The footsteps were slow, slick, echoing-- considered. At this stage, Kento didn't know if he and Yuuji were being hunted, or if they were the hunters. He suspected both.

The mansion fell apart around them, broken pipes lazily spewing sewage and muck. Kento felt the softly yielding floorboards beneath his feet, aware that if he wasn't careful, the second floor would very quickly become the first floor and--

"Oi, Nanamin!" Bounding, youthful footsteps hopped up beside Kento, who felt and heard the repercussions up the walls, the crack in the floorboards, the imminent collapse--

With the barest flash of movement, the floor beneath Yuuji's feet was missing, and Yuuji hung by his collar in Kento's iron grip, slowly rotating in the air as floorboards rumbled away with distant clatters. Otherwise, silence. A mildly dismayed hum from Kento, as he twizzled his blade in his other hand.

"Wow, Nanamin! Good refle--"

"Please make sure I do not have to use them, Itadori-kun."

"Ah...yeah."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Curse-killing on a moving Subway train in the middle of the night wasn't the sort of overtime Kento needed...but when he heard the mission had been given to you, and you alone, he felt a sickening twist of anxiety in his gut. Not that you knew how he felt.

Kento bridled with incandescent rage, seeing you tumble down the rattling carriage, pinballing between poles and seats. Your fatal blow to this filthy Curse was not fatal quickly enough.

"Come on! It's dead, time to--" Kento's call was cut short, sensing imminent disaster as you kicked the door through on the opposite end of the carriage, and the Curse staggered into the walls, making the carriage list sideways, making you list sideways at the open door in your bullet-shot speed through this gloomy tunnel--

All at once, you felt yourself falling from the moving train, rolling and tumbling but wrapped up in something so warm that smelled so good.

You rolled to a stop, still full-body bear-hugged by Kento. You lay under him for a moment, face to chest through the torn off buttons of his shirt. He unfolded you with a soft sigh, hands and knees planted either side of your head and hips.

"Wow, Kento. Good refle--"

"Dinner, I--...we should go out for dinner."

"Oh. Like...now?"

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"Daddy, watch this--"

One little blonde girl, suspended and giggling upside down, caught. Kento, sighing, holding her by her ankle by the tree she was almost certainly too small to climb.

-----------------------------

"Jump, jump, jump, jump, ju--"

A full-suited barrel-roll across the living room, a near-miss with a tiny head and a coffee table corner. The boy peered sheepishly up at his daddy, whose narrow brown eyes glowered down in silent disapproval.

"Daddy, I was jumpi--"

"Hush. Be more careful."

-----------------------------

"I'll race you--"

"No, I'm winning I'M WINNING I'M---"

A flash of movement. One little boy and one little girl, hunched over and suspended by the backs of their jeans, spinning and surprised.

Kento grunted once, loaded down with shopping bags, hooking the boot of the car up with one foot, his keys between his teeth. He spat his keys onto the seat.

A truck barrelled past, its driver certainly not looking for little people. Kento grunted again, dropping children and shopping bags.

"Do not-- I repeat, do not run in the car park."

"...sorry daddy."

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You reached out towards Kento, seeing something glimmer in the honey-blond of his hair. His hand snapped up, grasping yours reflexively round the wrist. He let go immediately, apologetic.

"Sorry, I--...rough day with the kids." You smiled, stroking his cheek, and he leaned into your soft palm, planting a kiss there. Your gaze wandered to his hair again. Kento raised an eyebrow at you.

"What?"

"You've, uhm...got a grey hair."

Silence. A moderately dismayed hum.

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I agree. Nanami Kento has dad reflexes.

-- Haitch xxx

2K notes · View notes

kenyummy · 6 months ago

Text

BEACH DAY — BLUE LOCK

SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?

note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!

wc: 6.2k

TODAY

is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.

So, you were heading to the beach.

The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.

It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed.

So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.

Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...

You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.

Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go.

You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.

You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.

With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.

They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.

Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.

You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.

Too bad this peace would not last for too long.

Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.

You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.

A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.

Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"

He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."

It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."

Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"

"YOU—!!!"

Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...

"Hello, Isagi."

Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."

He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"

He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"

He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.

Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids.

And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.

Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio.

Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).

"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."

"Get your eyes off my chest."

"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.

"You too, stupid crow."

"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."

You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."

"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"

He pauses. "Point taken."

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around.

Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.

You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).

"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."

You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."

Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be.

"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."

Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.

Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.

"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."

Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."

He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"

You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."

He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."

"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."

He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."

"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."

You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."

He says, but you do not catch it.

Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"

The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"

His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."

Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."

"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"

You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."

He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."

"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."

You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"

You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.

Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.

Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.

Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).

You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children.

You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.

You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]."

You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.

"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."

Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."

He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."

You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."

The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.

You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.

You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment.

It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."

The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"

Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?

Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"

You laugh. "I know."

The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.

Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.

"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"

You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.

He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek.

You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.

You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.

Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back.

You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."

You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.

You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.

Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.

Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"

You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."

"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"

You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."

The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"

Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."

You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"

He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."

"You sound like you care about that more than me."

"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."

You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"

He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."

You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.

Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.

You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.

"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.

"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"

Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"

The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"

He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.

You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."

Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.

Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"

Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.

You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"

Huh? Ready for what—!!!

You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness.

You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.

Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.

You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.

You've never felt prouder of yourself.

You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.

His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.

"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."

You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.

Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.

You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"

He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."

Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.

He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"

The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.

His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."

He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.

His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.

His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.

The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two.

It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.

You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.

Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.

The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.

Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.

Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.

"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."

When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.

He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.

Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.

Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.

The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."

He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"

He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.

Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?

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devondespresso · 3 months ago

Text

Let Me Raise The Bar

T | 3,602 words | Steddie | also on ao3! | Modern AU, Meet Cute, Fluff

This fic is for the @strangerthingswritersguild fic exchange, by @starryeyedjanai and @devondespresso. Thank you to @dreamwatch and @bubblesandink for betaing for me!! <3

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

edit: oh my god i forgot the keep reading the first time im so sorry guys

This night is going terribly.

He keeps telling himself he’ll delete all his dating apps for good, but the prospect of being alone forever always has him re-downloading them.

Right now, he’s remembering why he hates them so much.

He hates Tinder, specifically—guys on Tinder only want to fuck. And if that was what he was looking for, that’d be fine, great even!

But he wants a relationship and guys on Tinder will say they want one too and then turn around and leave right after they get what they want.

At least guys on Grindr are upfront about it being just a hookup—no one’s getting their hopes up or feelings hurt when it turns out to be just that.

Tinder guys will take you on a date and pretend to be interested in you as a person and then won't fucking text back after they leave your apartment the next morning. It’s annoying and it’s frustrating and it’s a waste of Steve's fucking time at this point.

And this guy tonight isn't even trying to pretend. He tried to get Steve to blow him in his apartment building garage before they even left for the date and he really should have taken that for the red flag that it was.

But Steve looks good, and he did his hair routine that takes entirely too fucking long for no one to appreciate it.

His date drives him to this hole in the wall restaurant that Steve must have passed a million times on the bus ride to his job without ever noticing.

He thought he might be able to turn things around when they got there—it’s a small Italian place, a real family-owned type vibe to it. He knows before he even orders that the food is going to be some of the best he’s tasted since moving here.

He tries asking the typical first date questions to get to know him, but his date keeps giving him short answers. So he switches to talking about himself a little, but then he realizes his date’s been staring at his mouth the whole time he’s been talking and Steve finally snaps that he isn't getting into his pants.

Steve breathes out a deep sigh as his “date” gets up and goes to the bathroom. Some fucking date this is—they haven't even gotten their fucking food yet. What a disaster.

“Hey,” he hears their waiter—Eddie, his nametag reminds Steve when he looks up—say after a minute of his date being gone. “I hate to be the bearer of super bad news, but I just saw your date slip out the back door, and I don't know if he’s planning on coming back.”

There's a lilt of sympathy in his voice and Steve can't help but snort.

“Of course he did,” Steve says. “Why can't guys just be upfront about what they want? It would save everyone so much time.”

He’s not looking for an answer, but Eddie's mouth twists and he says, “Guys are stupid. I mean, they’d have to be to give up the chance to get to know someone as cute as you.”

Steve can't really muster up a smile at the pity, so he says, “Well, whatever the case, he was my ride home, so I think I need to call a Lyft now. Can you box the food up and bring me the check?” At least he’ll have lunch for tomorrow, which doesn't feel like an adequate consolation prize for how shitty he feels right now.

Eddie shakes his head and says, “There’s no way I’m letting you pay for such a shitty date.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie continues, “Tell you what, my shift ends in ten minutes. Why don't I show you how I’d treat you if we went on a date.”

Steve's heart thuds in his chest, a flicker of hope in this incredibly dull evening. “Seriously?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Think of it as a trial run. See if I rank good enough for a real one.” He winks and Steve finds himself nodding dumbly, still shocked at the rapid turn of events.

“Okay,” Steve says, kind of breathless.

Eddie heads back to finish cleaning up his other tables before he ends his shift, and Steve fills Robin in over text about what happened.

He’s still waiting for a response when Eddie shows back up with two plates of food, setting one in front of Steve and the other where his date sat before sliding into the chair across from him.

He’s wearing a different shirt, Steve realizes. It also looks like he attempted to wrangle his curly hair into something more manageable, maybe sprayed some water on it to smooth it down.

The thought that this guy, this random guy who happened to be his waiter on this horrific night, would put in more effort than his previous date makes Steve's cheeks get hot.

Maybe this night really can turn around.

“Alright, names. Hi, I'm Eddie.” Eddie says, sticking his hand out across the table cartoonishly for a handshake. Steve suppresses a laugh and takes Eddie’s hand with a smile.

“Steve.” He says, and Eddie’s eyes brighten before he takes his hand back.

“So, Steve, what do you do for fun?” Eddie says, leaning forward slightly with vibrant confidence, tone feeling more and more noticeably rehearsed as he goes. “Other than light up the room with that smile, of course.”

Steve huffs a laugh, blushing despite himself.

“You practice that one a lot?”

Eddie shrinks back a little, still smiling even as he messes with the hair on the back of his neck, already starting to ruffle what he’d tried to tame.

“Yeah, it’s uh…”

“It’s sweet.” Steve leans in a little closer himself, trying to match the effort Eddie keeps putting in. “Almost as sweet as the smile you're wearing.”

Eddie flushes pink and lets out a little “Thank you” to cover a nervous laugh—and christ, Steve is already hooked.

Steve hums and grabs his fork to start eating and Eddie mirrors him.

“Thank you for this by the way.” Steve continues, “Tonight's been… ugh, you know.”

“A special kind of shitty?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “So all this is… really nice.”

“I'm glad.” Eddie says, voice soft before he shrugs and continues casually “M’hoping I’ll at least do better than the last guy.”

“Yeah, of course, you haven’t even asked me to blow you yet or anything.”

Eddie turns red and busts out a nervous laugh, looking away immediately. God, he’s so fucking cute.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm not–” Eddie looks back at him, nervous still, but sincere anyway, “That's not exactly my style.”

“You a wine and dine kinda guy?”

Eddie shrugs lightly, then he seems to get an idea, leaning in again with a smile “Actually– ideally, I'm a dine and mine kinda guy.”

A smile takes over Steve’s face that he can’t fully tamp down, a little flustered and a lot amused.

Eddie preens, then continues with a shy smile.

“Though, uh, usually it's more dine and…” Eddie pauses, “Pine. Dine and pine. You know, like pining.”

Steve makes his face relax as he nods and leans back. “Oh, yeah, like the tree.”

Eddie stops and looks at Steve, and soon Steve’s smile breaks out again.

“No, I know what you mean.” He says with a little laugh that Eddie quickly mirrors.

Eddie visibly relaxes, slouching overdramatically to the side with a sigh.

“God, I swear I’m usually good at this sort of thing, words and stories and shit,” He groans, gesturing around almost like he’s talking to himself, “But apparently I meet one pretty boy and suddenly I’ve got screws loose. And they’re all falling out, all across the floor, ‘there they go!’, y’know?”

Steve bites back a snicker and hums a quiet agreement. Eddie notices, though, looks up and sees right to Steve’s amusement, so Steve decides to save them both the embarrassment and move on.

“So your job. You like it here?

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Eddie says, perking up and gesturing as he starts talking, “The owners are really cool, they were our neighbors– Wayne’s—my uncle’s—neighbors when I first moved in with him, way way back, and they were so chill, loved having people over. Then one time in highschool I mentioned saving up ‘cause I’m trying to make it big with my band, and they offered to give me a job here while we get there.”

“That’s awesome. Your band any good?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Eddie laughs, playing with the food on his plate, “Wayne says we’re pretty good, which is probably the equivalent of moms showing up to their toddler’s dance recitals, but it’s something.”

“Where'd you guys play?”

“The Hideout, a couple blocks down…”

Steve nods.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, pretty fun if you ever wanted to stop by.“

“Sounds like a great second date.”

Eddie blushes, playing with his hair again as he smiles and looks away.

“I’ll probably have to wear earplugs– not because of your band or–”

“No, no, no, you’re good–” Eddie says, almost jumping up to reassure him, “It’s metal, that’s normal– good, even.”

“Oh– good.” Steve says, a bit awkwardly, and looks back down to his food.

Eddie leaves barely a moment of silence before he pulls the conversation back together.

“So what about you? You just a professional bad-Tinder-dater?”

Steve huffs and fiddles with his fork.

“Guidance counselor, actually.”

“Oh damn, really?”

“Yeah, Middle school.”

“Oh god,” Eddie groans playfully, “I can't imagine going back there willingly.”

“Yeah, I mean, it can get pretty rough,” Steve shrugs, “It's good though. Kids start thinking about who they are, I get to try and make that a little less shitty.”

“That’s a tall order.” Eddie laughed into his glass. “I respect it though. Hell, just having a queer adult exist around me would’ve made a lot of it easier.”

“God, yeah. I've got practice, at least, for when they need more than just some guy standing around in an office.” he laughed, pulling out sarcastic air quotes for the next part, “ I ‘babysat’ kids in middle school before I graduated. Bunch of little shits but they were good kids– still are good. They're like four years younger than me though, so they're more like siblings than kids.”

“Yeah, bet they don't take well to ‘kids’.”

“Oh, they hate it.” Steve laughed and Eddie followed with him, “Always hated it, but Dustin put his foot down after highschool. Rob and I call them my ‘twenty-somethings’ now.”

“God, wait, how old are you?” Eddie laughed

“Twenty-six.”

Eddie laughed a little louder, a lively and full laugh that looked enchanting on Eddie.

“You'd love them, they're all–

Steve’s phone buzzes.

Both of them look over to it on the table. Steve moves it to the seat next to him, looked up to Eddie with an apologetic smile.

His phone buzzes again.

And again, and soon Eddie’s eyes flick in that direction, eyebrow quirking with barely-restrained curiosity.

Then Steve’s phone starts ringing, the electric guitars of Hammer To Fall creeping up in volume way too fast for comfort.

“Sorry–” Steve cringes, grabbing his phone and answering the call in a furious whisper, “Robin, are you dying?”

“No, but thank you for confirming that you aren’t.”

“I texted you what happened.”

“Yeah and it was vague as hell! I reserve the right to be a worrywart with this shit.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighs, but can’t really argue with her on it. “This was going well, though–”

“Is.” Eddie chimes in, not trying to be loud enough for the phone to pick it up, just for Steve to hear him clearly.

“Is going well.” Steve smiles.

“Oooo okayyy.” Robin hums and Steve can hear her cheeky smile through the phone.

“Goodbye, Robin.” Steve says, failing a half-assed attempt to cover his amusement.

“Oh wait no, tell him if he tries anything I’ll–”

“M’not doing that.”

“I will though, I’ll go after him–”

“Oh woah you’re breaking up, can’t hear you.” Steve deadpans.

“Steve, I know–”

“Love you, bye–”

“Steeeeve–”

“Don’t pull your hair out.” Steve says and hangs up, coming back to the present to Eddie watching him, thankfully looking amused instead of annoyed.

“Sorry about that.” Steve says.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Eddie leans forward again, propping his head up in one hand, “So… friend?”

“Best friend, has to be to get away with shit like that so easily.”

Eddie snorts.

“What was she calling about?”

“I wasn’t clear that this new date thing was gonna be a good thing.”

Eddie nods civilly.

“She worries,” Steve continues, “Fuckin’ tinder dates, y’know?”

“Uh, not really….” Eddie smiles.

“Good for you. They’re all the same asshole in a different haircut.” Steve says, and Eddie smiles, laughing a little with him before continuing with something calmer, a little more earnest.

“Then why keep going to them?”

Steve shrugs.

“Call me an optimist, I guess.”

Eddie hums noncommittally, like he’s thinking more than he’s sharing, and continues the conversation in a lighter direction.

The rest of the date is wonderful. A little less chaotic, especially once they start finally eating their food for real, but what it lacks in eventfulness it makes up for in comfort. They’re not exactly quiet, but Eddie’s energy always comes with a sincerity underneath, like he’s bold and fun because he just is, and not because he’s making himself be.

It’s refreshing. And as the night goes on, it becomes intoxicating.

So when Eddie offers to save him the Lyft fee and just drive Steve home, Steve agrees, just to get a little longer in Eddie’s bubble.

Eddie leads him through the restaurant and out the back into a small parking lot with a handful of cars and one big van, decorated with a clearly hand-painted dragon on the side. Which, of course, ends up being Eddie’s.

“Dustin would love this thing.” Steve says as he hops into the passenger’s seat, not really thinking twice about it as he looks at the interior, eyes lingering on the big fuzzy dice with too many sides hanging from the mirrors.

“So Dustin is…?”

“A Twenty-something.” Steve laughs as he spins the fuzzy dice to see all of its sides. “He’s like my little brother. Loves DnD and science and… all the nerd shit.”

“Nerd shit?”

“Yeah, I mean– it's not my thing but it’s cool. I’ve played with Dustin and them a couple times.”

“Oooo, a bit of a nerd, are we?” Eddie hums in a weird, almost witchy voice.

“Casually.”

“Mmm, but you’re already down the path~~”

“Just drive, dude.” Steve says with a fond eye roll.

“As you wish, your majesty.” Eddie hums in his normal voice, giving Steve a glowing glance before shoving the keys in.

“Alright, I'm about to push your nerd-tolerance to its limits.” Eddie says, pulling out his phone with a grin. He connects it to the car and quickly turns it down before drums and guitar erupt from the speakers, and Steve flinches at the volume.

“Sorry, sorry.” Eddie whispers and turns down the music again.

Steve nods, and after a second of the music playing much more quietly, he finds it much more comfortable. Nice, even. The energy is quick and alive like Eddie is, though the aggressive vocals fit his outward aesthetic more than his borderline goofy demeanor.

“It’s not the music, I promise.” Steve says, saying it casually but meaning it sincerely.

“You’re fine, I get it.” Eddie laughs, a little too cynically for Steve’s liking.

“No, I–” Steve reaches for Eddie’s hand between them, intertwining fingers and bringing both hands up between them, “I’m serious, I like it. My head’s a little sensitive, been hit a few too many times, but it’s nice. It’s bold and very energetic… stuff that I already like about you.”

Eddie blushes hard—a sweet cherry pink—as he slouches, bringing their joined hands closer to his face like he’s trying to hide behind them. Eddie rests his forehead against the back of Steve’s hand and huffs a quiet laugh.

“God, you’re quite the charmer, Stevie.” Eddie says, and Steve finds his face warming too.

“And I’m guessing it’s working?” Steve laughs.

Eddie looks up at him, smiling wide.

“Oh, it’s working very well.” Eddie says, and brings their hands closer to him again to plant a soft kiss onto Steve’s hand.

Steve’s face goes warm again, lights him on fire, and Eddie’s smile turns slightly smug before he looks away.

“Alright,” Eddie says, looking back to the front to drive but not letting go of Steve’s hand. He even reaches his left arm over to change the gears, leaning into how silly he looks to make Steve laugh.

It’s sweet, it's genuine, and it's everything to Steve.

Eddie starts driving, hand still firmly holding onto Steve’s, neither of them willing to let go first. Steve looks at it as Eddie drives, splitting most of his attention between their hands, Eddie’s profile lit up by the colorful city lights, and the road ahead as he navigates Eddie to his apartment.

And if they miss a turn or two because Steve’s tired brain doesn’t want to watch the damn road? Eddie doesn’t mention it.

“Alright.” Eddie says, putting the car into park with his left hand again, though far less comically now.

He sits there for a second, quiet like something’s on his mind, so Steve waits.

“Okay, uh,” Eddie starts, looking vaguely down as he wanders through what he wants to say, “I had fun, I’m assuming by how the nights gone that you did, too…”

Steve squeezes Eddie's hand, and Eddie laughs.

“I had a really great time. And I want to do this again, if you want to.” Eddie glances up at Steve for a second before his eyes dart away again. “But I want to be sure you’re… you’re not being an optimist with me. That you want want this, y’know, because you're an amazing guy, Stevie. I don’t know how you keep having such shit luck but believe me when I tell you it's not because of you.”

Eddie looks back up at him again and keeps his gaze there, looking more relaxed now.

“So, uh, I would love to take you out again.” Eddie says, “If you want to.”

If he wants to, as if that's not the most romantic thing Steve’s heard in his life.

Steve almost says that. He also debates kissing him or pulling him into an awkward hug over the center console that he’s sure would be put up with no matter how uncomfortable it’d be. But Steve doesn’t, because Eddie continues before Steve can make a decision.

“What do you want?”

Steve resists the urge to say a cheesy ‘You’ and thinks about it, really thinks so he can put together words that make sense, so he can give Eddie a real answer.

“I want a long relationship. A real one, y’know?”

Eddie nods.

“And I want to get married, someday. I want someone who’ll stay that long, who will love and let me love them, all cheesy and clingy and shit.”

Eddie hums, searching Steve’s face.

“And?”

Steve looks down at the joined hands between them.

“And I’d love if it were you. You’re sweet, so sweet, but you’re also… alive. Everything you do, you’re…” Steve thinks hard for a moment, working out how to phrase it. “It’s like the world doesn’t weigh you down. And you’re so genuine and you’ll come and say what you mean like it’s nothing, and I think every one of the people in my life—my favorite people—would love being around you almost as much as I do.”

Steve looks back up to him, face hot with another intense flush, and tries to smile casually.

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but you’re kinda my perfect man.”

Eddie huffs a breathy laugh, face painted with disbelief and wonder.

“Okay, then. Case closed.”

“Yeah,” Steve hums, with as much fondness as possible. Steve leans in across the center console, bringing a hand up slowly, trying to signal that he’s leaning in for a kiss.

It takes Eddie a second, and Steve gets to watch him look down at Steve’s hand and look at Steve leaning in, gets to see the moment it clicked before Eddie lunges to meet him halfway and then some, making the hand that was supposed to cradle Eddie’s face hold onto the seat beneath him to keep their balance.

Eddie kisses him hard at first, bringing a hand up to card through Steve’s hair, excited and alive. Then Eddie seems to come back to his senses, moving back but taking Steve with him until they’re both leaning over the center again.

Their kiss softens, intensity melting out into fondness, gentle but passionate, warm and Steve wants to melt from it.

Still, Steve’s going home tonight, going to go upstairs to Robin and tell her all about it. He’ll get to have a good night's sleep in a bed that doesn’t need cleaning, and he’ll get to wake up to the idea of something new brewing fresh in his mind.

Steve pulls back gently and Eddie does the same, eyes flicking open one after the other, a smile on Steve’s face and another lighting up Eddie’s.

Steve catches his breath, feeling lighter now than he has in ages, and Eddie opens his mouth to say something again.

“Does this mean I can get your number?”

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie fluff #fluff #modern au #happy ending #devon's writings

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poohsources · 8 months ago

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🐝 * ― 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛ we'll just have to make do. ❜ ❛ come on, it'll be fun. ❜ ❛ wait, where are we going? ❜ ❛ you can't be here. go now! ❜ ❛ it's just a dream, a stupid dream. ❜ ❛ don't be afraid. i'm a friend. ❜ ❛ i can't stand up. what should i do? ❜ ❛ now listen, i'l tell you what to do. if you stay here, they'll find you. i'll distract them while you get away. ❜ ❛ you have no choice if you want to survive here ... and save your parents, too. ❜ ❛ why do i need a weakling like you? ❜ ❛ trembling, aren't you? still, i'm impressed you made it this far. ❜ ❛ what a pain. you're gonna pay for this. ❜ ❛ keep your wits about you. if you need anything, ask me. ❜ ❛ hey, are you okay? don't fall apart on me. ❜ ❛ listen to me. i'll promise i'll save you. ❜ ❛ what did you expect after all that rain? ❜ ❛ i'm gonna get there someday. i'll get out of here for sure. ❜ ❛ i was just coming to wake you up, look! ❜ ❛ what should i do? he'll die! ❜ ❛ what's so funny? wipe off that smile. ❜ ❛ don't do anything stupid until i get down there. ❜ ❛ you see, someone i really care about is badly hurt. i've got to go right now. ❜ ❛ this is our little secret. if you tell anyone ... i'll do the same to you. ❜ ❛ what are you going to do? he needs help. ❜ ❛ becoming a sorcerer's apprentice is dangerous business. ❜ ❛ well, getting there is one thing. getting back's the problem. ❜ ❛ [name], i promise i'll be back. please don't die. ❜ ❛ don't you understand? it's love. ❜ ❛ what took you so long? this is a total disaster! ❜ ❛ what do you want? you can tell me. ❜ ❛ what, you're still alive? ❜ ❛ you still don't see it? she's played a trick on you. ❜ ❛ since when do you talk that way? ❜ ❛ you held this, and nothing happened to you? ❜ ❛ i'd like to help you, but there's nothing i can do. it's one of our rules here. ❜ ❛ but can't you even give me a hint? ❜ ❛ everything that happens stays inside you ... even if you can't remember it. ❜ ❛ see? you have a talent for this. ❜ ❛ [name], i no longer blame you for what you did. but be sure to protect this girl. ❜ ❛ will we meet again somewhere? ❜

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay meme #sentence startesr #movie sentence starters #movie starters #rph #type: meme

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heich0e · 22 days ago

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ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

#shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha drabbles #bnha writing #writing

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forzarma · 8 months ago

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makeup disaster

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: lando Doing your makeup on stream what could possibly go wrong?

warnings:haven’t proofread 😞

You joined Lando while he was streaming last week, and both of you were playing a game. Well, you lost, which means you’re gonna let him do your makeup on his next stream.

Both of you sat, and you got your makeup essentials that you’re gonna have to use for this stream, hoping Lando wouldn’t freestyle your face considering the fact he doesn’t know anything about makeup.

“Hello chat,” he said while looking at the computer, “so apparently I’m doing your makeup,” giving a cheeky smile.

“I’m regretting this already, omg,” you said, laughing nervously.

“Anyways, first thing, I guess primer ’cause you have been nagging about killing me if I don’t put it first,” Lando said.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

He started tapping your face aggressively.

“Ouch, Lando,” you said, giving him a stern look.

“I’m trying, okay?” he said, looking at you innocently.

“Anyways, I think we need to use this,” he said while holding your foundation and your beauty blender.

He blended your foundation, and you were thanking god that he was doing good for now. Well, your happiness didn’t last long when you saw him taking your setting powder and putting it over your face.

“Wait, Lando—“ you were trying to tell him he should put concealer, but all you heard was “SHUSH.” You gave him a literal side-eye.

And then he had the audacity to put concealer after what the hell????

Looking at the mirror, all you could see is your cakey face.

He opened your eyeshadow palette and took a bright blue and started putting it over your eyes.

Then he picked your blush, PAINTED your face with it, making you look like a tomato.

Then he got the liquid eyeliner and hummed, “this is interesting,” and decided to literally act like your eyes are drawing papers.

He gave his attention to the chat, reading it, and people saying that’s not how he should put things, just for him to say, “nah, y’all are just wrong, I know what I’m doing.”

He took the lip liner, he put it on your lips, and gloss.

“Alright chat, that’s the finished look,” he said, looking proud as if he did an achievement.

“You did terrible, Lando,” you said, looking at him.

“You know, I did good, better than you do,” he muttered.

“Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed this stream and don’t fall in love with my makeup skills ’cause,” he said, smirking, then he ended the stream.

After ending the stream, Lando turned to you with a cheeky grin. "Alright love, let me help get that makeup off you. Can't have you walking around looking like a clown all night!"

You playfully hit his arm. "Whose fault is that?" You retorted with a laugh. Lando gently took a makeup wipe and started dabbing at your face, his touches soft and caring as he removed the remains of his "artwork."

"There we are, much better." He smiled, gazing into your eyes. You felt yourself getting lost in his stare, all thoughts of the disastrous makeup attempt melting away.

Suddenly , you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Lando made a small noise of surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, cupping your cheek tenderly as he kissed you back. The spark between you that had been building for so long was finally igniting.

When you finally broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "Well, I may not be able to do makeup but at least I know how to do that," he whispered with a wink. You giggled, feeling giddy and light. It seemed the stream had ended on a much sweeter note than anticipated. Your "punishment" had turned out to be quite the reward after all.

#Lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #formula one x reader #Formula one x you #formula one x fem!reader #F1 imagines #lando norris #Charles leclerc #lando norris fluff

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gffa · 4 months ago

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Hey, are you feeling salty about STAR WARS for no reason whatsoever, just totally happened randomly, and want some fic that reflects the Jedi Order of the movies and TCW? Ones that are novel-length time travel fix-its to really make yourself feel better? Then I have some ones that I've been reading and really enjoying! Because I think maybe we could all use a bunch of fic to get lost in over the weekend, just 'cause. STAR WARS TIME TRAVEL FIC RECS: ✦ there is no death ashkav, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & quinlan & ocs & cast, time travel, 134.9k wip Darth Vader is a cataclysmic event, and Cal, delirious with pain, scrambles to catch the hilt of his saber as he begins to drag it out their corpses – and that’s what he and Cere are, corpses, with only a last few seconds of misfiring neurons left in them, no matter how much BD-1 trills and punches stim after stim into his arm – they are tipping past that point of no return now, and Cal needs to do something right now before it’s too late for – for what?

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 142.3k wip Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right?

✦ Let Go by Micillyn, qui-gon & obi-wan & anakin & padme & cast, time travel, 101.5k Qui-Gon did not expect to die on Naboo. Nor did he realise that by insisting for Anakin to be trained as a Jedi, the boy would one day fall and become Darth Vader. Foresight, it seems, did not confer the gift of infallibility, yet if it took all those tragedies to destroy the Sith and restore balance to the Force and hope to the galaxy, then perhaps it wasn't so bad after all. Or, the story as happened in the movies is the fix-it, and this is the story of the disaster that happened before the time-travel happened.

✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & cast, time travel, 47.4k wip Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be.

✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & mace & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU.

✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #qui gon jinn #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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rootedinrevisions · 24 days ago

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Kinktober 2024: Day 23

PROMPT: "Don't act innocent. We both know what you were doing two minutes ago.

KINK: Masturbation

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (masturbation, showering together)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You closed the bathroom door behind you with a soft click, the sounds of Tyler settling into the room filtering through the thin wall. You stood there for a moment, your hands resting on the edge of the sink as you looked at your reflection. The exhaustion of the day was evident in the lines of your face, but more than that, there was something else—a lingering frustration that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

You sighed, pushing your hair away from your face as you began to undress. Your fingers fumbled with the hem of your shirt, your mind wandering as you slipped out of your clothes. Tyler. His name snuck into your mind like an unwanted guest. He was always there, always steady, always… more.

At least you wished he was more. Lately, it had become impossible to separate the idea of Tyler as your best friend and coworker from the Tyler your body seemed to crave when you weren’t paying attention.

You let the thought slip away as you stepped out of your jeans, your skin prickling in the cool air. He was just your friend, you reminded yourself. Your friend. Your coworker. Your boss in a way. But even as you thought it, your mind betrayed you, thinking of him from earlier in the day—the way his shirt had clung to his body in the rain.

Stop it, you chastised yourself. You couldn’t think about him… like that.

You turned on the shower, the rush of water filling the small space with a soothing hum. You reached for your Bluetooth speaker, the one you always traveled with, and connected it to your phone. A playlist you had on shuffle came to life, filling the room with music.

That should do it, you thought. If nothing else, the sound of the water and the music would drown out any noises you didn’t want Tyler to hear. The last thing you needed was for him to figure out what was really going on behind the bathroom door.

You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over your body. It was a welcome relief after the day’s chaos, the steam rising against the cool tiles. Your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to let the tension melt away. But no matter how hard you tried to relax, that familiar frustration was still there, gnawing at you.

It had been so long since you’d felt satisfied—truly satisfied. It was hard trying to maintain any semblance of a dating life when you were always on the road, and the few dates you had managed to go on either fizzled out or turned into disasters. You’d become used to disappointment.

But tonight… tonight you were too worked up to just let it go. Your body was aching for release, your nerves raw from too many long days on the road and too many nights of pretending you didn’t want more.

Your hand drifted lower, your fingers trailing across your stomach as your thoughts wandered again—back to Tyler. What would it feel like if it was his hands instead of yours? The thought made your pulse quicken, your breathing grow shallow as you closed your eyes tighter. You could imagine it so clearly—the roughness of his calloused palms against your skin, the way his fingers would somehow know exactly where to touch, how to pull you apart. He always had this way of reading you, of knowing what you needed before you even realized it yourself. Your breath hitched, your fingers moving more purposefully now as you lost yourself in the fantasy. In your mind, it was Tyler who was touching you, Tyler who was behind you, pressing his body against yours, his lips tracing the curve of your neck.

You could feel the heat building inside of you, the tension winding tighter and tighter until you could barely stand it.

A soft moan escaped your lips, barely audible over the sound of the water and the music.

Tyler sat on the edge of the bed, his phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through the weather reports for tomorrow’s chase. The hum of the bathroom fan droned in the background, the sound blending into the rhythm of the water cascading from the shower.

He wasn’t really paying attention to the screen—his mind kept drifting back to you. You had seemed quieter than usual today, more withdrawn, and despite your usual banter, something felt off. But it wasn’t his place to pry. He sighed, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. Maybe it was just the exhaustion of the road catching up with you, or maybe—

A soft sound broke through the background noise. His brows furrowed as he looked toward the bathroom door, the faintest trace of a moan filtering through the thin wall. He froze, his heart skipping a beat. Had he imagined that?

He shook his head, trying to refocus on the weather report he had been looking at. You were probably just getting comfortable after a long day; it didn’t mean anything. He was just…overthinking things. Right?

But then he heard it again—clearer this time, and unmistakable.

A moan. His name, falling from your lips.

His breath caught in his throat.

No. That had to be some mistake. Maybe he’d misheard, or maybe…

But as the sound echoed again, this time accompanied by the subtle shift of your voice, it was unmistakable. His name, laced with a soft, needy tone that sent a jolt of heat straight through him.

Tyler sat completely still, unsure if he should move. His pulse quickened, blood roaring in his ears as he stared at the closed bathroom door. His mind raced, a flood of thoughts crashing into him all at once. What the hell was happening? Did you mean to…? Was this real?

He swallowed hard, his hand running through his hair in a futile attempt to steady himself. The rational part of his brain told him to leave it alone, give you your space—hell, maybe you hadn’t meant to say his name, maybe you were dreaming or just—

But then another soft moan cut through his thoughts, and he couldn’t deny it anymore. The sound of his name on your lips was real, and it was doing things to him that he hadn’t anticipated.

He shifted, his body suddenly too warm in the stale hotel room air. His mind raced back to earlier today—how you had smiled at him, how your laughter had filled the quiet moments between the chase, and the way your eyes lingered on him just a second longer than they used to. Had he been reading things wrong this whole time? Or was this the confirmation of something that had always been lingering between you two, unspoken but palpable?

Tyler’s mouth went dry, desire clashing with hesitation. His pulse quickened, thoughts swirling in chaotic loops. He had to know—had to see if you…felt the same way. But at the same time, the weight of your friendship pressed down on him, keeping him rooted to the bed.

What if you didn’t mean for him to hear? What if this was just some fleeting, temporary thing, a moment you would regret the second you stepped out of that bathroom?

But the sound of his name whispered like that, was all the permission his body needed.

Before he knew it, Tyler found himself standing, his feet carrying him closer to the door. He hesitated, his hand hovering just above the handle, heart thudding in his chest. He could hear the faint melody of the music you’d turned on, the water splashing softly behind it.

He closed his eyes for a second, drawing in a shaky breath. This was dangerous. He was teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t take back.

Another moan.

His resolve snapped.

Tyler’s hand hovered over the door for a moment before he let it fall against the wood with a soft knock.

The sound barely carried over the shower and music, but it was enough to snap you out of your heated reverie. You froze, the water cascading down your back as your heart leaped into your throat.

Had he heard? God, what if he had?

“Hey,” Tyler’s voice came from the other side, quiet but unmistakable.

You scrambled to pull yourself together, yanking the shower curtain back slightly, just enough to peek out. There he was, standing just inside the door, the dim light from the vanity casting shadows over his features. His expression was hard to read—part uncertainty, part something else you couldn’t quite name.

“Tyler?” Your voice came out shaky, a little too high-pitched. You could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Do you…need something?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a moment, he just stood there, his tongue running along his bottom lip as if he were gathering his thoughts. But then he tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, it sounded like you might have a little…problem in here,” he said, his tone casual but with a distinct edge to it, the kind that made your heart race even faster.

You felt the blood rush to your face, mortification washing over you in waves as you quickly tried to backtrack. “What? No, I—” you stammered, shifting nervously, “I wasn’t—I didn’t—”

Tyler’s smile grew, his eyes darkening slightly as he stepped closer, the confidence in his movements unmistakable.

“Don’t act innocent,” he said softly, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine. “We both know what you were doing two minutes ago.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse roaring in your ears. You wanted to say something, anything to regain control of the situation, but your words had vanished, leaving only the heavy thrum of your heartbeat in their place.

His eyes held yours, and you couldn’t look away, not even when he took another step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small bathroom.

“Need a little help?” he offered, his voice soft but the suggestion behind it crystal clear.

You couldn’t meet his gaze, your eyes darting to the floor as your embarrassment threatened to swallow you whole. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out, your throat too tight, your mind spinning.

Tyler sighed lightly, the sound laced with amusement, but it wasn’t mocking. No, it was more like he understood. He moved toward you, his footsteps slow and deliberate, stopping just at the edge of the shower.

“Hey,” he murmured, his hand slipping under your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his eyes. “Look at me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a way that made your breath catch.

Your eyes finally met his, and the intensity there stole the air from your lungs. His expression had softened, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the unspoken desire that simmered between you.

“Do you want help, sweetheart?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, but it carried so much weight, so much meaning.

You swallowed again, your heart pounding as you gave the slightest nod, unable to form words but knowing, deep down, that this was exactly what you wanted.

A slow smile spread across Tyler’s face, one that was both tender and teasing. “Good girl.”

Without another word, he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of him, the muscles of his chest and arms rippling in the low light. He tossed the shirt aside, then made quick work of his jeans, stripping down to nothing in seconds.

Before you could even process the full reality of the moment, Tyler had stepped into the shower with you, the steam rising around his body as the water ran over his skin. His gaze met yours, dark and intense, as his thumb brushed along your jawline.

“Are you going to keep playing innocent?” he asked, his voice low, teasing. He knew exactly what game you were playing, and yet he loved to see you squirm under his scrutiny.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, the embarrassment from earlier still lingering. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out, just a soft sound of uncertainty. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes, but you couldn’t hold his gaze for long. The intensity made your stomach flutter, and your eyes flicked downward, unsure if you could handle the way he was looking at you, like you were his to unravel.

“You can’t hide from me, sweetheart,” he murmured, that familiar hint of dominance lacing his words. “We both know what you were thinking about in here.”

His hands found your waist, pulling you gently against him, the heat of his body mixing with the heat of the water in a way that made your head spin.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands slid lower, skimming over the curve of your hips, and you could feel the electricity crackling between you, the tension that had been building for weeks finally breaking loose.

His lips found your neck, kissing and sucking exactly where you had imagined them earlier, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his hands roamed, exploring, teasing. Every touch ignited something inside of you, every kiss pushing you closer to the edge.

“Tyler…” you breathed, your voice barely audible over the rush of the water, but he heard you.

You gasped, your fingers clutching at his arms for balance as your knees threatened to buckle. The feeling was electric, shooting through you and pooling low in your stomach. You whimpered softly, still unable to meet his eyes, the embarrassment now mingling with a desperate kind of need. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every second of it.

“Don’t be shy now,” he whispered against your skin, his voice sending another jolt of pleasure through you. “Tell me what you need.”

You bit your lip, your body trembling under the assault of sensations, unsure how to ask for what you craved. The confidence you had earlier was gone, replaced with a needy vulnerability that only Tyler could pull out of you.

His hand slid up your spine, fingers tracing each bump of your vertebrae, until he reached the back of your neck, gripping it lightly. His thumb brushed along your jawline again, coaxing your face back to his.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

You lifted your gaze, your breath shaky as you met his eyes. The intensity in them made your pulse quicken, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile. His hand trailed back down to your waist, pulling you tighter against him. “Now, tell me what you want. Do you want me to touch you?” His voice was a mix of tenderness and dominance, his tone daring you to give in, to let him have control.

You nodded your voice barely a whisper. “Yes…”

His smile grew, and he let out a low, satisfied hum before his hand slipped lower, his fingers finally finding the place you needed him most.

He teased you at first, his touch light and playful, watching as you squirmed against him, your body desperate for more. You moaned, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built inside you. He was torturously slow, dragging it out, watching you unravel beneath his touch.

“Tyler…” you whimpered, your voice shaking as the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice low and rough. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Let go.”

And with one last teasing brush of his fingers, he pushed you over the edge. You gasped, your body shuddering against his as the pleasure crashed over you in waves. Tyler’s arms wrapped around you, holding you steady as you trembled in his grasp, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your neck as you came down from the high.

He didn’t let go, not even when your breathing began to steady, his touch still gentle but firm, grounding you in the aftermath of the intensity. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the sound of the water cascaded around you both, the steam curling in the air like a blanket wrapping around you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice tender now, the earlier teasing gone, replaced with something softer, something almost reverent.

You nodded, your body still weak, but safe in his arms. And in that moment, you knew, as much as you wanted to keep denying it, that Tyler was more than just your friend.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Smut

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stevieschrodinger · 3 months ago

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Part One Twenty

Steve gets dressed fast, his brain kind of fixating on the memory of Eddie’s...penis? Wriggling it’s way across his skin. The way the head or...face, had slowly started to open up.

Jesus Christ.

They can just never have sex. Or be naked together. Ever. That’s fine. That’s absolutely the most normal and logical way to play this. Steve stops, one leg in and one leg out of his pants...what if it bites?

“Stee love?” Eddie’s still wrapped in a towel, wearing it kind of toga style, wrapped firmly under his armpits. He already has his hat back on. He’s fidgeting with the edge of the material.

Eddie used to be half fish anyway, so it’s not like Steve was expecting an involved sexual relationship when...when he thought Eddie was going to die. Steve feels like absolute shit for thinking it, but there was never any commitment before, their relationship had a very definite end. Which, yes, okay, had the positive effect of Steve just...completely by passing any kind of sexuality crisis.

Or species crisis.

But now...now he’s in it for the long haul. And Eddie may want intimacy. Hell, Steve would quite like some intimacy. When Eddie just had a...well, a parting, like a girl, Steve hadn’t given it much thought really, Eddie’s only just freshly legged. Eddie only just now has a real life span. Steve just kind of figured they'd...work something out at some point.

They are probably still going to have to do that.

“Stee love?” Eddie asks again, more quietly this time, uncertain. Steve hates that he’s probably the cause of that.

He still wants the defense of pants though, right now, while he...processes things.

“Right, Yeah,” Steve forces his brain back on line; whatever that was, Eddie was fine with it. And it’s a part of Eddie, clearly...so. Steve needs to just get over this real fast, “what do you want to wear? You can choose.”

“Choose,” Eddie goes to the closet, pulling out some draw string sweat pants and the sweater Joyce made for him.

He takes the towel off, leaving it on the bottom of the bed. The slit is clearly closed; Steve can’t see any evidence of anything. He’s so entranced, staring at the space between Eddie’s legs, that Eddie manages to get a leg in before Steve thinks to intervene, “wait, baby, boxers first.”

Steve gets them, Eddie pulling his leg out, turning the pants inside out in the process. He puts the boxers on backwards, but Steve figures it doesn’t matter since he’s got to sit to pee anyway. Eddie’s clearly confused by one leg being inside out, so Steve helps him fix it.

Watching Eddie put on the sweater is a bit of an experience, it starts off going on over his head sideways, one arm hanging from Eddie’s chest, so Eddie twists and sticks an arm in there, forcing it to straighten before he puts the other one in.

“Uhm,” Steve says, staring at the fully six inches of belly buttonless exposed midriff Eddie’s left with, “maybe we should put a tee shirt on underneath.”

“Underneath,” Eddie cocks his head.

Steve gets him a shirt, helping him back out of the sweater, into the tee shirt, then back into the sweater. The shirt is pastel blue, the sweat pants gray, the sweater red and green. It’s a bit of a look, especially with the bobble hat, but Eddie grins big as Steve finishes dressing himself. Eddie watches closely as Steve puts his socks on, and then goes and gets himself a balled up pair from the drawer.

He sits on the edge of the bed, next to Steve, unballing the socks, one immediately falling to the floor, Eddie clearly not expecting what would happen as he unraveled them. He gets them on okay, apart from one being upside down, so the heel is on the top of his foot. He’s pulled both of them up over the top of the ankle cuffs of his pants.

“My boyfriend is a fashion disaster,” Steve comes to terms with it pretty fast; it’s just Eddie being...Eddie.

“Called boyfriend? Called...fashion disaster?” Eddie sounds the words out carefully.

“Oh boy,” Steve sighs, “here, let me at least fix the socks,” Steve kneels, twisting one sock the right way around and then pulling the cuffs of his pants out so they’re over the top. It reminds him of the ring, kneeling in front of Eddie like this; Steve touches it, where Eddie’s hands rest on his thighs. He might not of exactly intentionally put the ring on that finger in the moment, but now that he realizes what he’s done he definitely likes it. “Boyfriends means I love you, and you love me.”

Eddie nods.

“It’s not the same as friend love...so I love Birdie, but it’s different, to how I love you...I won’t kiss anyone, except you, you understand? I love Birdie, and the kids, and Nancy and John and Joyce and...Hopper, I guess. I love them and I care about them, but…”

“Love Eddidie more good.”

“Yeah, yeah baby.”

Eddie nods, “Eddidie love Stee. Perfect love. Kiss Stee. Not kiss not Stee,” Eddie’s so earnest as he looks down at Steve. His eyes are much better, only vague traces of where they were bloodshot, the lids no longer red or swollen.

Steve snorts a laugh, “so you won’t kiss anyone else,” he says slowly, “you won’t kiss other people.”

“People. Stee. Eddidie. Kids. Hopper. El. Joyce…”

“All,” Steve makes a large encompassing gesture with his hands, “all people.”

“Not kiss all people. Kiss Stee,” Eddie tells him, almost desperate, “love Stee.”

“Love you too baby.”

Eddie’s face crumples for a moment, and for that horrible second Steve thinks Eddie’s going to cry, he certainly looks on the verge of it, big brown eyes liquid, when he says, “Eddidie sorry.”

“Sorry for what baby?” Steve rubs at Eddie’s thigh through the material of his sweat pants, trying to comfort him.

“Eddidie different.”

“I...yeah. Yeah but it’s okay, it’s fine-”

“Not. Stee scared.”

Steve sighs, well fuck, he thinks. “I was just…you are different, okay. But it’s fine, okay, it’s good, I was just...surprised. Okay? Not bad. Not bad I promise.”

“Perfect true? Promise? Eddidie not bad?”

“You’re not bad. I promise okay, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Touch more? Kiss?” Eddie asks uncertainly, and for the first time ever, Eddie won’t look at Steve when he speaks. He’s staring down at his own knees instead. It guts Steve a little.

“I...yeah. Yeah...later?”

“Today?” Eddie looks up, so earnest still.

He clearly needs reassurance and Steve feels like an absolute shit for making Eddie feel this way. He really didn’t mean to, his response was pure instinct, he really had no control over it, “maybe today...maybe tomorrow? Soon, okay. I promise soon.”

Eddie nods in agreement, but he looks...wilted.

“Come on, you wanted cobbler? And we can watch ‘Splash’?” Steve knows it’s distraction through bribery, but he just needs a little time to process.

Eddie brightens immediately, nodding, “cobbler many good.”

Tom Hanks is under a table, trying to dry Daryl Hannah’s mermaid tail away with his dress tie. Eddie is fascinated. He’s sitting forward in his seat, watching, enraptured.

The phone rings, but Eddie barely registers it, so Steve leaves him to it.

“Hey kid it’s Hopper, you still want a ride to your appointment tomorrow?”

And actually, Steve had more or less forgotten, “uhm...no, I think I’ll be okay,” Steve’s pretty sure he’s up for driving, he can get a shoe on no issue now as long as he’s careful.

“All right, I’m going to need some I.D. photos of Eddie for his documents, think you can manage that?”

“Yeah, yeah Hop, should be able to do that tomorrow. We need groceries anyway.”

“Right, well don’t forget he can’t wear that hat in the photos.”

Shit, Steve thinks, “might have to wait then, I mean his ears are kind of pointy.”

Hopper hums, “what about a wig? Like a fancy dress one that looks like his hair, just for the photos?”

“That...could work, but where-”

Hopper sighs down the phone, and it sounds like it pains him to admit, “I might have something.”

“Again?” Eddie asks, the second the film finishes, “Madison good.”

“Later baby, Joyce is coming over.”

Eddie immediately perks up, “Christmas food?”

Steve laughs, “no, something else, but are you hungry?” Eddie nods, “okay, I can make us something quick.”

“Here honey, sit down,” Joyce indicates a chair for Eddie, “I’m not sure how well this will curl, but if I just spray it down and twist it up, it might be curly tomorrow.”

Eddie sits, letting Joyce fit the wig on his head. It’s obviously false, and nothing like Eddie’s real hair, but the transformation is still immediate. It makes Eddie look healthier, more like himself. Joyce hums to herself as she brushes it out, Eddie fiddling with the ends.

“And why do you have this?”

“I told you kid, no questions.”

“Oh don’t be such a grouch Hop,” Joyce chastises him, smiling, “we went to a costume party for Halloween, we were Sonny and Cher.”

Steve can’t help the shit eating grin he turns on Hopper, “of course you were,” Hopper just rolls his eyes and mooches a beer out of the fridge.

“Eddie I’m going to cut some off this okay? I’ll try and get it about right for you okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, sounding bemused, “thank you Joyce.”

“Such good manners honey, you’re very welcome.”

“Called manners?”

“Oh...well it mean you always remember to say please and thank you.”

“Please and thank you.”

Steve watches them chatting away, vaguely listening to them talk as Joyce asks Eddie which were his favorite parts of Christmas; she seems genuinely thrilled that Eddie is wearing the sweater she made.

Hopper’s leaning against the counter with his beer, “kid we gotta do something about the pool.”

For a moment, the words resurface a truly horrific set of memories that bring Steve up short. Just for a second, he almost can’t breathe, and then it passes, “look Hop, that day, I’m...I shouldn’t have shouted, the way that I did-”

“Kid, I’m old enough to know when I was wrong,” he looks over at where Joyce is snipping bits off Eddie’s ‘hair,’ “and I was wrong.”

Steve looks out the window with Hopper; it’s cold out there, a thin layer of fresh snow decorates the lawn with patchy white splotches. Steve can see what Hopper means though; Steve’s pool chair is nearly black with vines. Hopper moves, clearly intending to head out there; Steve heads into the hall, slipping on his sneakers carefully and grabbing a jacket and some gloves.

He meets Hopper, looking down at the vines and the shitty murky crap in the bottom; Hopper flicks his cigarette end into the muck.

He sighs, “what you got in the shed?”

They had drained the pool as much as they could, but the pump soon started to protest the sludge, so they turned it off and then Steve ran it through with buckets of clean water from the hose. Hopper’s in there, double layers of trash bags taped to his thighs and a bandana mask over his mouth and nose. Joyce and Eddie have a shovel and a fork between them, standing on the pool edge, scraping the vines off the edge and the tiles so they drop into the black muck at the bottom. They’re dead and brittle, snapping and breaking off easily, leaving little puffs of grey dust to float down after the chunks fall.

Steve runs back and forth, sneakers dirty as he goes as far in as he dares, shoveling and moving buckets and then the wheelbarrow to Hopper’s instruction. There’s a clear set of footprints and wheel marks across the lawn and snow, into the trees where Steve’s been dumping all this is in the hopes the melting snow and rain will wash it all away.

They work for a couple of hours before the dark finally drives them back inside, but the pool does look much improved. Steve figures if he can get out there in the day and spend a good few hours on it, he could definitely clear the worst of it. It’s gross, but no where near as deep as Steve feared it would be.

“Once we get near to the end we can put a couple of feet of water in, then just get in and scrub and the pump should do the rest,” Hopper tells him, “you got your appointment tomorrow, but I’ll drop by the day after?”

“Thanks...thanks so much Hopper, I really really appreciate this.”

Hopper shrugs, “I’ll bring Jon, he can help.”

“Thank you Hopper,” Eddie tells him, too.

“Kid, really, it’s fine. No pine cones necessary.”

Part TwentyTwo

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature

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nanivinsmoke · 4 months ago

Text

✩ Both Ain’t Shit

dilf!toji x fem!reader

♪ tender was the kiss when you held me captive….

he lying to me im lying to him…. ♪

warnings : features suguru geto & utahime, cheating, toji is married and has a child, age gap (late 20s late 30s), angst, cursing, break up-sex, mutual affair, slut shaming, pussy eating, blow job, face sitting, creampies, squirting, half a happy ending (?), mentions gojo and shoko, etc….

✩ notes: wc ~ 4.9k, finally gave yall a oneshot with a plot! and i seen the results for the poll for lost without you and im getting to it, dont yall worry—i got yall for real.

lying. I guess that’s what this whole relationship was made of. nothing but lies.

that’s how you ended up here, lying to him.

you hated liars, but this lie just felt so good.

“sh-sh…shit toji! please, don’t st—“ your eyes rolled back and you grinded on his face, cumming all over his scarred lips; as he sucked on your clit like he was an old person that found some butterscotch.

your legs shook, his lips still attached to your sensitive clit, working you to another orgasm; but much to your dismay his phone started to ring. you groaned and quickly removed yourself from his face, knowing exactly who was calling him at this hour.

grunting when he sat up, the older man reached and answered his phone, watching you as you began to get dressed. “yeah baby, im coming home right now….i'll pick up some diapers—alright, love you too.” he hung up, eyes focused on as you struggled to pull your light blue jeans over your ass.

“i can help you with, c’mere~” he flirted, pulling you close by your jean’s belt loop holes. you rolled your eyes and pulled away, jumping to finally get them up. “don’t you gotta get some diapers? go help with that. besides, I gotta get home before geto comes back.”

he sucked his teeth at your remark and started putting his own clothes on, ignoring his own hard on, “I don’t see why you still with him. he don’t even make you happy.”

“oh? you’re one to talk. remember why we broke up in the first place? only for you to go do what I wanted with her….” he was silent, the only thing that could be heard was the two of you moving around the apartment. both of you always came here whenever you wanted to get away from your partners, which always led to hot, sticky sex.

“oh. and don’t ask my why i'm still with him, when you’re still with her. did you forget that? cat got your tongue?” you egged on, watching his facial expression change. he slipped on his shirt and grabbed his keys, before brushing past you. “whatever, y/n.”

you turned the key into your townhouse’s door, slipping your shoes off and placing the key on the nearby island’s, marble countertop. “geto?” you yelled out, only to not receive an answer. you noticed some take out on the counter and walked over to it, while taking your phone off do not disturb—seeing a message from your boyfriend.

✩ ‘staying at gojo’s tonight, he’s having a get together with some old friends. hope you had fun at utahime’s. ordered you some dinner, goodnight my love and see you at work tomorrow’

you swallowed your guilt along with a spoonful of fried rice as you finished reading his message. a guilty heart only leads to disaster and disappointment, and right now you didn’t have time for either. you had your reasons for cheating, none of them forgivable, but you had them. one of reasons were that you were still in love with your ex. you hadn’t gotten over the breakup and yes, you should just break up with geto, but just thinking what he would say or do was killing you and you don’t think you would be able to handle that. so you stayed, cheating with the one who broke your heart.

after eating the food geto got for you, you turned on your shower and started slipping off your clothes—cringing when you peeled off your cold, sticky panties. your were soaked and flashbacks from earlier, turned you on.

you typed on your phone, sending a text message to toji’s second number and telling him how wet he made you—and that you were disappointed that he didn’t let you cum all over his dick. stepping into the shower you let the coursing hot water drip all over your body, washing away your guilt as the lust increased inside your body.

finishing your shower off with an electric ending and getting yourself ready for bed, your phone chimed with a text from toji.

✩ ‘pretty girl always wet for me. ill stretch her out soon’

your clit throbbed at his message and you quickly sent one back.

✩ ‘he’s not here tonight, you can come over and put that to fruition.’

he immediately liked the message and texted back that he was on his way. no longer than ten minutes later, he was here; wearing a black tee that hugged his muscular torso and your favorite pants of his—grey nike sweatpants. the man was fueled with need for you.

closing the door behind him, he picked you up with ease and sat you on top of your kitchen’s island; big rough hands immediately going underneath your t-shirt. his scarred lips turned up into a smirk, loving how wet you were for him and when his finger ran over your clit; he loved the way you jolted at his touch.

as toji kneeled down, you stopped him by holding his head with your hand. “toji….dont tease me—please just put it in already.~”

“shut up. if I wanna taste my pretty girl then i'm going to. she misses me—mhm” he dove straight into your middle, swiping his tongue between your slit and tasting your sweet silky fluids. you tossed your head back and gripped his raven locks as he ate you out with such precision. and when he added two of his fingers to the mix, stretching you out, it wasn’t long before you came—all over his face. you squirted, drenching his face with your sweet nectar.

this was your first time squirting for him and devilish smirk appeared on his face. “you could do that this whole time? don’t tell me, you’ve been squirting for him?” he sent a smack to your quivering cunt, making you yelp out. you and geto haven’t had sex in a while and when you guys did get in the mood, it was always something simple; like blow jobs or cock warming. maybe that’s another reason why you’re cheating…

“n-no, i guess i…—yes!—i just missed you….don’t stop toji, g’nna cum again~” he drilled his fingers back inside of you mid sentence, working another powerful orgasm out of you, ending it with the same result as before—with you squirting on him once more. he slurped up every last bit of your essence before removing himself from between your legs and pulling his gray sweatpants down—revealing his girth.

your eyes fluttered down to his cock, the glow of sticky precum on his pretty tip had your mouth salivating. “turn around,” he ordered while pumping his cock and you immediately got into his favorite position. you got on your hands and knees, ass up high in the air with your legs spread, so he could see your slick coated cunt in all its glory.

he pulled a hiss from your lips when he pushed his head through your tightness, you arched your back up too high for him, earning a smack to your plump cheeks. “lower it~” he grunted and you whined, slowly lowering your back down into the perfect arch.

“‘s..too big—shit, take some out please daddy~” you felt another stinging sensation to your ass and you whined some more. “you can take it—smack—now quit yer whining—smack—and let daddy make this cunt his again~,” with each smack, he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside of your sopping wet pussy; filing you to the brim was his cock.

he stayed like the for a moment, feelin pity on you before he pulled out and slammed himself back inside of you again; a scream crawling out of your mouth. he repeated the action, your walls clinging to him with each stroke, driving him insane. mewls spilled out of your mouth as his tip rubbed against that sensitive spongy spot, making you clench frantically around him.

“must’ve really missed me, hm? creamin all on my dick—fuck!” he held onto your hips, watching the cream build up, making his tan cock a nice shade of milky white.

the sound of your cunt squelching with each stroke drove the both of you crazy, minds fucked out with arousal. feeling that ball in your stomach increase with each pleasure-filled second. you pushed your ass back harder against him while reaching down to fondle his potent balls—egging on his orgasm. toji let out a loud grunt, his green eyes darting to your pretty face.

“so fucking good—please fill me up daddy, please~.” you begged, breathless as you looked at him from over your shoulder with hooded eyes, lashes fluttering.

“that’s what you want? want me to fill my pretty girl up—make you swollen with my seed? hm?” he pulled your head back by entangling his fingers into your hair, each stroke deepening as a result. you nodded frantically, and he pressed his lips roughly against yours, hips slamming into your ass repeadlty—clapping sounds echoing throughout the room. with each passing second and each stroke, your orgasm approached faster and faster; and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

your eyes rolled back as you gushed all over him, pushing him right out of your leaking cunt; your fluids soiling the bottom of his shirt and his sweatpants. he grabbed his throbbing cock and pushed right back into you, his pace hard and faster.

“making a mess all over my dick, just makes me want to breed your pussy some more.~” with a few more strokes, he painted your inner walls with his thick, pearly-white load, and a wave of euphoria washed over you. his cock twitched inside of you, and he grunted into your ear, pulling himself out and plunging his fingers into your sticky hole.

“gonna make you squirt over and over again, and im going to make sure there’s a kid in you by the end of the night. get that ass in the bedroom.~” he growled and helped you off the island, smacking your ass in the process.

the long, raven haired woman walked lazily over to the door, wondering who the fuck was pounding on it like a mad man, and when she opened it her face dropped. “suguru, what are you doing here?”

he leaned against the door frame smiling, letting himself into her house, kicking his shoes off by the door. “what’s the matter hime’, you didn’t miss me?” he held her by her waist, gripping her smaller backside into his hands. utahime shook her head, lying, stepping back to readjust her robe.

“you shouldn’t be here. does y/n know you’re here?” she asked, folding her arms underneath her breasts. he pulled her over to her brown soft sofa, and sat her on his lap, “no, does she know you liked to be fucked raw by her boyfriend?” her honey brown eyes widened and she looked elsewhere. “no…”

utahime was your best friend since forever, she kept your secrets and you kept her’s. she was your scapegoat when you wanted to go see toji, she considered herself to be a girls girl, despite sleeping with your boyfriend every other night. this little secret relationship started when geto popped up at her house one time, looking for you because you left your work badge at home. but, when he didn’t see your car outside and you weren’t inside either, he realized that you had lied.

it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together, and he figured out that you were lying from the start. he didn’t know what you were doing nor did he care, he just knew you had hurt him by lying. utahime took pity to him that night, she didn’t give you up, but she still felt for him. she hated seeing him hurt, and the way his eyes lost emotion, pained her. so, she pitied him in the best way she knew how; sex.

and here she was, about to pity him again for the third night in a row. she looked into his eyes and pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his. she pulled away, a wave of heat washed over her and a trail of spit followed, she was breathless. utahime undid her robe, revealing her beautiful nude body. “make love to me geto~”

and that’s what he did, for the rest of the night, until sunrise.

“class is dismissed! papers are due friday and there will be no assignments for the weekend. see you until then!” you dismissed your class, watching the room empty out before you turned to dust off your chalkboard.

the muscular male eased into your lecture hall, tip toeing his way down, so you wouldn’t hear him; standing at the bottom to watch how good your ass looked in your pencil skirt, jiggling as you struggled to reach the top of the blackboard.

“need some help?” toji’s deep voice alerted you, making you stumble and drop the chalk filled eraser—causing the powder to fly everywhere. he chuckled and watched your pretty face turn into a frown. he was now in front of you and helped you dust off your outfit, sneaking in some loving grabs to your boobs.

“what are you doing here?” accepting his kiss as he pulled you over to him while he sat on the edge of your desk, his huge hands caressing your heavy backside. “got time for a quickie?~” he flirted, lips contorted in his infamous smirk. as you opened your mouth to reply, his phone began to ring and he reached back to answer it.

“what’s the matter, baby?” you pushed his hands off of you and your face contorted with disgust. you were jealous and that was a fact, his wife had everything you had ever wanted. she had his last name and his child, and she didn’t understand why he didn’t choose her?

toji stayed on the phone with his wife for a few more minutes, before he told her that he had to get back to work. he turned and saw the look on your face, and his softened.

“why’d you choose her, toji? your voice cracked as you spoke, while tears threatened to leave your eyes. he didn’t have a reason, he never did. so, he did what he did best, deflect.

“don’t start that again. you’re still in a relationship with him, dragging it on knowing there’s only one possible outcome for you two. the relationship is dead, y/n?”

“oh? but your’s isn’t? and don’t tell me nothing about mines when you keep coming back to me, when you’re supposed to be with her right? the woman you claim to love?! you gave her everything toji. I love you, how am I supposed to feel?” you were now bawling your eyes out, poking his chest with outrage, all while you poured your heart out. he didn’t know what to say to you, left speechless. you were right after all.

your phone chimed and you looked at the smart watch on your wrist, checking the notification. wiping your tears away, you went inside your desk’s wooden drawer and pulled out your purse.

“I don’t have time for this…do me a favor and just…stop pulling me back in, just for it to end up the same.”

you sat down with your best friend and boy friend, at a nearby restaurant, agreeing to meet them for lunch. it had been a while since you were all together, however there was one missing.

“where’s satoru?” you asked, picking at your noodles as you spoke—your mind still stuck on what happened between you and toji. you couldn’t help but to look at geto with soft eyes. for the first time you didn’t swallow you guilt, instead you let it through. you were sorry and thought about telling him everything.

“he’s busy flirting with some girl, as always.” utahime said with an eye roll, causing you to chuckle. you scanned your best friend’s face and noticed a bruise on her neck.

“utahime, is that a hickey i see!” you pointed out with a smile on your face. the girl blushed and felt her neck, sharing a look with geto before the two looked away. but, you caught that. and the longer you stared at the two, it dawned on you. as much as you wanted to scream, and curse the two of them out, you couldn’t. outing them right now with no evidence would only backfire. you had to play it safe.

you sent a smile to geto and held the top of his hand, a fake smile plastered onto your face. all the guilt you had washed away.

on the way home, you thought about what you saw. your best friend and your boyfriend? that was the worst thing to ever happen to you. yeah, you were the first one to step out of your relationship with geto, but you weren’t fucking his best friend. that was a different type of low.

you couldn’t believe utahime, after everything you both been through. she was more than your best friend, she was like your sister. you thought she had your back like you had hers, but it was clear that—that wasn’t the case. she was going to get hers, the both of them. however, for now only one of them were going to be punished.

you were fresh out of the shower, wearing a grey t-shirt and a navy blue thong; your hair laid freely in its natural state. you looked at geto, as he sat on your king sized bed and shook your head. you crawled on the bed and over to him, hovering over him; gaining his full attention. he smiled and leaned in for a kiss, but you pulled back and shook your head. he rose and eyebrow and watched as you grinded against his clothed crotch, reaching to hold your hips, but you swatted them.

he didn’t deserve to touch you. this wasn’t intimacy, this was goodbye. this was his punishment.

you rolled your hips, staring into his purplish eyes, biting your lip when you felt his boner poking your cunt. he watched as you pulled his boxers down and turned around, sliding your panties to the side—positing himself at your sodden entrance, before you lowered yourself down on him. he groaned, you were so tight; it had been a while for the two of you.

you rocked your hips before bending over slightly, your ass in view; as you began to ride him. you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning, he didn’t deserve to know how good he felt, how wet you were. he could tell something was wrong with you, the way you moved without looking back at him or letting him touch you. however, he wasn’t going to say anything, instead he laid back and watched as your ass collided with his pelvis, strings of your wetness sticking to him.

a singular tear rolled out of your eye and you didn’t bother to wipe away. you were hurt, for the second time in your life. how do you keep ending up in these situations? was it you? were you the bad one? no, you just happened to fall in love with the worst people.

“fuck, baby. g’na make me cum~” he warned and you worked your hips faster, your own orgasm approaching. feeling his cock throb, you rode faster and slammed your ass down on him, until you pulled him out of you; his seed dripping on your plump cheeks. he was too wrapped up in his pleasure to notice any of your tears.

suguru laid breathless and watched as you got up from the bed and over to the adjoining bathroom. geto sighed and grabbed his phone, snapping a picture of his semi hard cock and sent it to utahime.

as you sat on the toilet, your phone chimed and you looked at everything. when you got home, geto was the first to shower and left his phone in the bedroom, which allowed you to go into his phone and made a short cut with his messages. so, everytime he sent a text to utahime, it was sent to you phone too. you also sent yourself all of their previous messages before deleting it on his end.

you stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind you; alerting the long haired male.

“my best friend? out of all the people in the world you just had to go an fuck my best friend!” you held up you phone to his face, every single message, nude, love note—was in your grasp.

it was no use denying it either, he couldn’t. not when you had hardcore evidence shining in his face. so, he got mad and deflected.

“i wouldn’t have to cheat if you didn’t lie about where you were. I wouldn’t have to cheat if you showed me some love. now would I?” he retorted. youd eyes widened and you couldn’t help but chuckle. he had no idea where you actually were all the time and I guess you could thank utahime for that, after you kicked her ass.

“are you fucking serious? that’s why you cheated, because I lied about where I was? that’s your fucking excuse?!” you were seething, he was a fucking idiot. you walked over to your closet and began to take your things off of the hooks, shoving them into your huge duffle bag.

“you wanna know where I was so bad? getting my brains fucked out by my ex. every single night when I told you I was at utahime’s, I was letting him cum in me so much, i’m surprised I haven’t gotten pregnant.” now he was seething, he grabbed your bagged and tossed it onto the bed; getting in your face, but you weren’t scared—you were going to stand ten toes down.

“and finally the slut confesses! going back to your ex? isn’t he married? think he’s going to leave his wife for your raggedy, used up ass?” he started chuckling when he saw your face change, he had got you right where he wanted you. hurt.

you sniffed back the tears and moved past him, grabbing your duffle bag amongst other things, slipping on a pair of sweatpants before walking to the living room with suguru hot on your trail.

“you know you’re a fucking idiot. you call me a slut, but you went to utahime’s house on a whim to fuck her because you didn’t know my whereabouts, does she know that she isn’t the only one either? ive checked every single message suguru, icloud too,” you grabbed the rest of your things out of the living room, before you grabbed your keys.

“should’ve let gojo and shoko eat my pussy when they wanted to, then I’d really be a slut. fuck you, suguru. and go to hell,” with that, you detached the apartment’s key and threw it onto the island—slamming the door behind you, leaving him for good.

as you turned the knob to the apartment across town, the door swung open and you were face to face with toji’s chest. he looked down—opening his mouth to speak, only realized the stream of tears rolling down your pretty face. he quickly pulled you inside and hugged you; letting you soak his dark grey shirt with your sadness.

you dropped your bag as he rubbed your back, soothing you as you calmed down, before you pulled back and he placed you on top of the kitchen counter. “what happened?”

you told him everything, about him and utahime, to the nasty argument, to the break up; and by the time you got finished he was angry. “ill kill him,” he started to walk away, but you grabbed him by his wrist and shook your head.

“he isn’t worth it, as much as I would love to see that happen; he really is garbage and his karma will come.” you half smiled at him before you realized something. “why are you here? trouble with your wife?”

“actually…we just got a divorce. I had one of my lawyer friends bring over the paperwork that I asked for months in advance, and we both signed it. I told her about you, how I felt about you, and the affair. she was devastated.” you pouted, another person hurt by this affair, you felt like you only had yourself to blame.

and then he moved closer to you, picking your face up by your chin; your eyes fluttering as he stared into them, “I love you, y/n. never stopped. the only reason I married her is because she was having my baby. I was a fool who didn’t use a condom, but I was an even bigger fool for rubbing everything in your face. i'm sorry.”

your eyes widened. he had never said ‘I love you’ to you before, only you with him. and to here that he never stopped only made your heart swell. you couldn't give a fuck about anything else but what was happening now. “toji!~”

you cooed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a deep—passionate kiss. your lips moved in sync, your hands exploring each other’s body’s, just before you pulled away.

“what about your son?”

“she agreed on joint custody, which is good. we’ll alternate weeks and I gave her the house. now, ya got anymore questions? ‘cause, I need to make love to you.” you shook your head no quickly, and he picked you up, and carried you to the bathroom, almost sucking your face off in the process.

as soon as your feet touched the cool tiles, you proceeded to rip your clothes off, while he did the same—ignoring the cool, sticky feeling on your panties. he quickly turned on the shower, letting the water steam up all while he kissed you. he blindly led you into the shower, his hands glued to your ass; the plushness captivating him.

the steaming waters trickled across your bodies; adding to the sensual atmosphere, and helped your arousal peak. you kissed down his chiseled torso until you were face to face with his raging boner, not even hesitating to place him into your mouth.

toji groaned, his hand going straight to your wet hair, pushing your head down further onto his cock—deepthroating him. your eyes widened and filled with tears, but you kept him deep in your mouth; until you pulled away to catch your breath. you kept eye contact with him while you jerked him off, a mixture of spit and water coated his cock. “cum in my mouth, ‘kay?” you were so cute to him, he couldn’t help but nod; sucking in some air when you took him back into your mouth.

you swirled your tongue on his tip, frenching it; while teasing his balls. then you removed your hands and only used the back of your throat to please him, the sound of your gags were like music to his ears. and soon, he couldn’t hold back anymore—grabbing your head so he could fuck your pretty face to his liking.

“so…fucking…nasty!” he grunted, your cheeks puffing up with each thrust. your hand flew down to your throbbing clit, rubbing it while your eyes rolled back into your head. it didn’t take long before he spurted his thick warm load into your mouth—forcing your to deep throat him once more.

you swallowed what you can, before he let go and you pulled away; letting it trickle out once you opened your mouth, showing him the flowy white liquid before swallowing the rest.

toji pulled you up by your wet hair, kissing you again—tongue swirling on yours as he tasted himself. you moaned, feeling his fingers find their way to your wet cunt. he picked you up once more, swiftly pushing his head inside your aching entrance. “fuckkkk, baby.~” you dragged out, throwing your head back, walls stretching as he slowly pumped in and out of you.

the more he moved, the hornier the two of you became, and soon his pace quickened. the sound of your cunt squelching, and your heart beating in your ears drowned out the shower’s loudness, fueling his arousal. he gripped your ass with both of his hands and proceeded to pound your cunt—causing air to be pushed in, making you queef repeatedly.

“she’s talking to me, miss daddy’s cock. hm?” he grunted, listening to the lewd sounds of your moans and your pretty pussy talking to him. you moaned, unable to formulate a sentence due to the overwhelming pleasure. his cock rubbed against your spot with each thrust and you could feel that bubble inside, getting ready to burst.

“gna cum on this dick? hm, pretty?—answer me!” he growled into your ear, and held your waist, smacking your ass before putting his hands back onto your fatness.

“yes! yes! gonna cum all over your dick, daddy!~” you squealed and he slammed harder, bursting your bubble. you were silent as your cunt gushed, a complete contrast from the shower above you.

“that’s it baby girl, let it out. gonna get another one out of you~” his hands stayed glued to your ass and his pace stayed the same, overstimulating your leaky cunt. drool pooled out of your mouth as you let go once more, your liquids splashing the shower’s walls and drenching his cock once more.

he didn’t stop pounding once your orgasmed again, as his own was mere seconds behind you. with a few more thrusts, he slammed inside of you—holding you there while he painted your walls white, cock twitch as he emptied his load inside your tummy.

“let’s get you out of this shower before you pass out,” he chuckled and helped clean your body off.

after a few more rounds of love making, the two of you laid in bed, cuddled up to one another. toji had drifted off to sleep, after you took charge in the last two rounds; ultimately making him tap out.

you stared at his beautiful resting face, heart swollen with pure love and happiness. you had finally got what you wanted. turning on your side, you backed yourself into his embrace; ready to drift off to sleep—until your phone buzzed.

turning the brightness down, you checked the message from an unknown number.

✩ ‘we need to talk, now’

518 notes · View notes