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#do you watch the static at night

rowarn · 7 months

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.

16.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted it all to be over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simon…” you whispered in relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums, “Are you sick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It suited him, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle softly at his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you woke up, you were in bed.

And Simon wasn’t in the apartment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head, “Got it.”

“Take it,” he says, “Carefully.”

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

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

“Here,” he suddenly steps behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have no way to get out of this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go take a shower,” he orders you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Escaping,” he responds.

“Escaping?” you parrot back dumbly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G-Go away, Simon,” you sniffle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper at that, “B-Both!”

He scoffs, full brows furrowing, “Greedy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You guess?” you chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head, “Of course I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#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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tojirights · 3 months

Note

I absolutely love your Alastor smut! Is there anyway you can make one where your Vox’s ex and Alastor decided to somehow show off to Vox how much reader loves his c*ck more?? A special broadcast maybe?? Please keep up the great work!

a/n: i love vox but if there's one thing i love more, its making him feel inferior to alastor 😍 this is soo good. REQUESTS OPEN! 🩷

tags: 18+ smut nsfw!

vox thought alastor couldn't get any worse, there was nothing that shit-for-brains demon could do to enrage him more. that was until valentino told him that alastor had a new pretty little thing hanging on his arm. "he WHAT?!" vox's voice cracks from the sheer force he puts behind those words. valentino snickers, watching vox run to his security room.

and there you were, locked arms with that fucking deer demon, walking down the street. you looked absolutely enthralled with that fucker! "you've gotta be fucking kidding me..." he growls, static filling his vision. as if alastor can sense that they're being watched, he winks at the camera and pulls you down a more secluded path. vox puts his fist straight through the screen before pacing around the room. it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before his ears pick up that voice, that shitty radio voice.

"good evening viewers!" alastor begins, making vox's head spin around. the tvs were blank, just audio playing through them. he's about to smash the rest of them when something catches his attention. he swears he hears a familiar noise, your noises specifically. then he hears you panting, and blood rushes to his groin first and then his face. "thank you for tuning into a very special late night broadcast." alastor's voice sounds... breathier.

"what the fuck is-" vox mutters to himself before his eyes go wide. "o-oh god." you moan, sounding far too sexy. and enjoying yourself far too much. "yes alastor, fuck. that's so good." your whines play out, filling the room and vox is just about to lose it. "is alastor fucking your ex?" valentino leans against the doorframe, a smug look on his face. "you’re so tight, my dear. your cunt was made for my cock just as i was made for radio." he laughs to himself, his hands finding your hips as he fucks you over his desk.

this little plan of his was working just as intended. he asked, of course, if you'd be interested in ruffling your exes feathers a little bit and you agreed. this special broadcast was only being shown directly to vox through his security. not a single other soul would be able to hear you but vox. it sent a certain chill up your spine, knowing that he was definitely listening. every thrust of alastor's cock presses you harder into the desk, bruises sure to form later in the evening.

"that's kinda hot, yknow-" "SHUT UP VAL." vox feels as though he's about to implode, anger coursing through him in a way he's sure he's never felt. "i am going to finish him. both of them. they won't live this down."

valentino covers his mouth to stop from laughing. "it sounds like they're about to finish each other." and he was right. your breathy little moans are a dead giveaway. "please, please your cock feels so good. g-gonna cum." vox paces the room, plotting your downfall but his cock is hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

"such a good girl, you are. you sing so pretty my dear." alastor grunts, pressing the head of his cock up against your cervix before he feels you clamp down around him. with every pulse of youe orgasm, alastor follows. "cum alastor, p-please fill my pussy." you gasp, riding out wave after wave of deep pleasure. vox should turn this off, he should walk away but he can't make his feet move.

and after alastor finishes deep inside of you, filling you to the point of it leaking down his cock, he lets out an almost sinister chuckle. "thank you my loyal viewers for tuning in for this one of a kind show! we hope you thoroughly enjoyed."

the room is silent after the broadcast ends. that is, until velvette clears her throat. "was that alastor fucking your bitch?" she raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading over her lips when she sees vox's face.

"no one talk to me. i have business to attend to." and with that, vox disappears, leaving valentino and velvette to themselves.

"bold move, i gotta hand it to him."

#hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor smut #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox

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ohdeerfully · 3 months

Note

alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously.

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long.

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.”

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right.

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #ohdeerfully #alastor is eepy #fluff

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sardonic-the-writer · 3 months

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𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

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jinkiezzsstuff · 2 months

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At First Sight PT2

Alastor x doe!reader

PART ONE PART 3

this is a short part 2 to a request, tbh i didn’t think about continuing it before so i struggled a bit and it’s quite short! i’m so sorry gang ;-; i hope it satiates yall if not lemme know what i can cook up for you

Warnings: love sick alastor + reader, ooc alastor, mates/soulmate trope, mentions of reproduction and pregnancy (dw yall i didn’t do the no no there is no pregnancy it’s just mentioned bc it supposed to be gn), short short, swearing, not proof read, hmmmm i think that’s it lmk whatcha think

wee little taglist for the people who asked kiss kiss: @fairyv-ice @chirimeimei

Tucked underneath Alastors chin you laid comfortably alongside him in bed. You’d been awake awhile now tail thumping softly behind you as you watched the demon sleep his smiled soft and barely showing. He laid in pyjama bottoms only chest bare and on display for you. You absentmindedly traced the scars along his torso feeling him respond with goosebumps every now and again.

“Goodmorning my doe,” Alastors voice rang out, killing the silence. It was shocking to hear his static gone and his regular voice out on display, dripped in sleepy sultry. “Good morning my buck.” You reply sickeningly sweet while crawling up to lean over his face, his eyes were lidded now gazing at you with a loving look in his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked playing with the stray hair that swept across his face. “Indeed darling very well. I should be good for several days.” He chirped happily, ears flicking. “We should head down, i need to talk to Charlie.” You say with a grimace.

Last night when Charlie caught you and Al, you felt guilty, you knew Charlie was a sweetheart but you practically abandoned her all day for Alastor, then scared her silly with a deal and sex! Groaning you grab your head while Alastor stood. With a snap of his fingers the two of you were dressed, and that did take a load of stress of you. “Come now my doe, I’ll be there the whole time, no shame and if there is we’ll be ashamed together!”

Alastor seemed pretty bright in his exclamation holding his arm out to you. Obviously you trusted Al you gave yourself and soul to him and only him just last night. So while attached at the arm the two of you trotted downstairs.

Arriving downstairs interlocked you were both greeted by all the patrons already in the living area next to the bar. Charlie was the first to make a noise gasping, meanwhile Angel was practically vibrating in his seat. Just as Angel was about to talk Vaggie interrupted. “You made a fucking deal!?” Screamed the fallen angel, hands thrown behind her as the rest of her body lurched forward. Frowning you bit your lip, of course this was gonna be an awkward conversation with Charlie, but with the whole hotel listening. Even worse!

“Neva mind that Vagina! Let’s talk about the real stuff. How big? Seven? Eight? Twelve?! Ouch-“ Vaggie knocked Angel over the head with the back of her spear. “Yikes alright, twelve is greedy…. ten?” Angel whispered cackling at Vaggie who growled at her. Alastor, obviously unhappy, began to crackle with static, black shadows oozing out from the floor and encompassing the room slowly.

At the sight of Alastor’s figure demonically stretching the room fell silent, you only gazed up at the deer slightly aroused by his stature and the way his antlers screwed out like branches. “You’re quite the sight.” You say dreamily, barely even noticing you spoke to begin with, Alastor’s head cracked down to you. Coming back to himself Alastor hummed out adoringly, petting your head but wanting to kiss you, unfortunately that was a step too far for him right now.

“Uhm anyway, YN, can you please tell me about the deal?” Charlie begged worry on her face as she looked to you and Alastor. You felt the guilt crawl at you again. “I… well I’m not sure why but there’s just this pull i have to Alastor, he asked me to be his i said yes i…” You veered off feeling too embarrassed by all the eyes, thankfully Alastor pulled you in theatrically waving his microphone around, taking the attention off you.

“Well this lovely doe was just made for me you see? I’m perfectly capable of protecting such a divine creature and though I don't doubt your ability, princess I'd feel a lot more comfortable being the one to do so.” Alastor fired off sounding like a proper radio host as he did so. Charlie looked confused but then perked up happily.

“This is thee perfect redeeming quality Alastor, love is so pure! This is great!” As Charlie felt giddy, Vaggie felt suspicious eyeing the red demon. “So what did you even sell- what was the deal?” You hummed tapping your finger to your lip; well you didn’t know, just that you gave yourself to him.

Looking up to Alastor for help here he happily obliged. “Worry not you angry little woman,” Alastor replied, pinching Vaggies cheek, her angrily pushing him off. “The contract was nothing greater than marriage.” The entire room, yourself included, was surprised at this. You knew this was a soul binding contract, but for him to make that connection on his own was well to you sweet as ever. Your tail flicked happily behind you as you looked to Alastor who returned to your side.

Charlie was as equally as happy as you were, but Vaggie and Husk kept within the same boat of apprehension. “Why so suddenly?” Asked Vaggie again, but Alastor shrugged her off. “I’m unsure dear, just that i couldn’t resist this little doe. Like fate.” Alastor pondered meanwhile you briefly seethed at Alastor for referring to Vaggie as dear.

“Maybe it’s like some soulmate bullshit between deer?” Angel pipped up, putting in his required two cents. Husk groaned at that, but Charlie squeaked jumping up. “That is totally possible! It happened with my dad! Well, y’know in the beginning.” Charlie chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. Alastor shook his head rapidly a soft laugh echoing out of him.

“No way dear, how is that possible?” He mocked bopping Charlie atop the head with his mic, you again weren’t happy hearing him call another demon dear, but you let it fly. “Well you both are deer, could it be instinctual?” Charlie reasoned her pitch, giving away her uncertainty.

You hummed looking up towards Alastor to see him already looking down to you. “I think Alastor and I would need to talk about it privately before we have a group conversation about it. It’s kinda of embarrassing.” You admit already tired of the discussion. Charlie however didn’t like the idea of not having an answer, so with a plan in mind she turned to Vaggie. “Vaggie can you take them to the library, maybe look some stuff up online? We need to figure this out.” Charlie asked giving Vaggie a look that conveyed this was more of a do this rather than a can you do this.

Nodding her head Vaggie looked at you, who looked at Alastor. Alastor shrugged and muttered he didn’t see the issue, so long as you were safe. So you and Vaggie headed off, meanwhile Charlie calmly asked to speak with Alastor in private.

Alone in Alastor’s radio tower, Charlie sat on one side of the broadcasting table while Alastor sat behind it, tunes playing out of him. “So Al,” Charlie started breathing out a deep breath. “Can you please tell me what’s going on with the deal, listen i can’t have them get hurt! I’ll even make a deal.” Charlie said sadly gazing off, she didn’t want to make a deal, but she would.

Alastor watched her, and pitied her odd behaviour. Resting his chin on his hand Alastor sat quietly for a moment, Charlie waiting with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “It was nothing malicious that i can assure you. Although, i’m not sure what happened between them and myself, I felt pretty agressive in my feelings to protect them. Of course that private moment between us should’ve stayed private,” Alastors words were stern as he glared down at Charlie who shrunk bashfully in her seat.

“But suppose since you know i will confess in that moment of intensity, i did the only thing I knew how to do to my dear. I’m not particularly good with emotions, and so I simply ensured I’d have them with a deal.” Tapping his nails on the desk Alastor kept his composure but inside he was scolding himself for even letting that much truth out. Charlie seemed to like the sound of that though, nodding her head in agreement.

“So you won’t, and you don’t have any plans to hurt them?” Alastors ears pinned back subconsciously, he didn’t enjoy being accused of cruelty when it came to you, and he didn’t know he could be any more truthful. “My dear i swear, on my mother, not a hair on their pretty doe head, will ever be hurt by me.” Holding his right hand up, head high Alastor watched as Charlie eased into a smile. Nodding at him.

Rejoining the crew downstairs Alastor and Charlie were shocked to see you and Vaggie had returned. “How come you guys are back so quick?” Vaggie turned at the sound of Charlie’s voice, eyes bugged slightly. “Yeah you won’t believe what we found.” Vaggie said handing Charlie a book about demons and mating. Charlie didn’t seem too keen on the book ‘uhs’ immediately falling from her mouth.

You stepped up, opening the book to the checked marked place. “It’s species dependent on how mating affects someone, in this case Doe’s are more of a rarity in hell meaning it was an instinct for the two of us to kinda ‘mate’ or ‘bond’ to one another, as if we had to worry about going extinct.” You scoffed watching as Charlie glazed over the words while listening to you. “Weird. It must be because you’re a hellborn and an angel, so technically you can reproduce.”

A record scratch sounded out from Alastor, the lot of you looking towards his stiff figure. “Don’t worry Al, we’re pretty sure you’re still unable to.” Charlie hushed to him, before giving you a look that told you, she didn’t really know that to be true. You weren’t worried though, almost a hundred percent certain that he would not be able to have children. “Welp, at least now we know that’s a thing,” Angel sighed from the background, Vaggie glaring at him.

Pulling you into his side Alastor grinned his poise returned. “Look at us figuring stuff out why wasn’t this just the teamwork we all needed, good job.” Alastor applauded slightly condescending, but Charlie was happy with it nonetheless giving two thumbs up to you and Alastor.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor

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altruisticalastor · 3 months

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You were Alastor's weakness. Something about you drew him closer into your orbit. He knew this weakness would be his downfall, but he couldn't pull back. No matter how hard he tried.

☒ Contains: fluff, gender!neutral reader, slightly angsty undertones, affectionate!Alastor, also possessive!Alastor, sleeping together (literally), implied established relationship, cuddles, one forehead kiss, Alastor undresses the reader but it is not sexual

☒ Word Count: 1,374

Alastor was alluring.

The mystery surrounding the radio demon made the man all the more interesting to you. The moment Alastor showed up at your friend Charlie's Hotel all those months back, his gaze fixated on you.

His crimson gaze was intimidating at first. But as more time passed, Alastor's stare became somewhat of a solace to you. You felt safe around him. Especially because overtime he seemed to become possessive with you.

Any time you would get a little too close to the other patrons at the Hotel, Alastor's eye would twitch. He would be at your side in an instant- ushering you away. Keeping his hand firm at your waist as he shot the poor sinner a death glare.

It was flattering, really. You just didn't seem to understand why.

Why you?

But hey, you weren't complaining. Plus, it was probably best not to question it.

It had been an overwhelmingly exhausting day at the hotel. Charlie had you working overtime in preparation for the newcomers ready to be redeemed. You couldn't help but yawn as you trailed down the corridor. Sleepily swaying from side to side as your half-lidded eyes got heavier with each step.

Suddenly, you felt yourself slam face-first into something- or rather, someone.

"Careful now, my dear! If you don't watch where you're going, you could end up in a rather dangerous predicament!"

The static crackle in his voice was all too familiar; Alastor.

One of his hands came up to your waist; fingers playfully tapping along your side. Alastor's other hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up so he could get a good look at you.

"My, my! You're looking rather worn down, my dearest! Seems like Charlie's working you to the bone, hm?"

His Cheshire-like smile caught your eye before your gaze met his crimson orbs. Alastor's eyebrows were knitted in concern, making your heart flutter in your chest.

"Ah, sorry for running into you, Al. I'm just really sleepy. It's been a long day," Your yawn cut you off before you could say more. Your arms snaked around his slender neck as you rested your head against his chest.

Alastor and yourself never discussed the gravity of your relationship. He was bad with feelings, and even worse at expressing them. What you two had was an unspoken thing, and you felt honored to be able to embrace him in this way; knowing no one else had the privilege to do so.

Alastor let out a low hum, static grumbling in his chest. The vibrations lulled you further into dreamland. That was until Alastor's hands swiftly pulled your thighs up, and on instinct, your legs wrapped around his slender waist. Your eyes fluttered open from the swift gesture, and you tilted your head to read Alastor's expression.

"Al... what are you doing?" You mumbled softly, tightening your hold around the back of his neck as he began his descent down the hall.

"Why, I'm taking you to our room, my dearest! Seems as though it's way past your bedtime." His radio static voice held a playful undertone as he pulled the bedroom door open. Carefully, Alastor placed you at the edge of your shared bed.

On most nights, you slept while he worked on his plans for the next broadcast. Alastor rarely slept, but he adored the peaceful sounds of your labored breaths while you rested. Your captivating visage distracted him- only slightly, most nights while he typed up his script. You were just too adorable for your own good, too entrusting. Too tempting.

"Arms up, my dear!" Alastor quipped in a sing-song voice. Sharp gloved fingernails grazed the bare skin of your waist as he tugged your shirt over your head. You shivered slightly from the touch, a coy smile adorning your features as Alastor worked on removing your pants next.

Alastor hummed along to a tune you couldn't quite put your finger on as he finished undressing you. You couldn't help how your heart pounded against your ribcage from the way his crimson orbs raked over your frame. Strangely, you felt like he was looking at you as if you were his prey. It sent a wave of adrenaline through your entire being.

"No need to feel demure, my darling. You are truly breathtaking! Quite a sight for sore eyes." His voice lowered slightly at the end of his sentence. Alastor made himself comfortable between your parted thighs as he began undressing himself, crimson gaze never once leaving yours.

He allowed his overcoat and bowtie to cascade to the floor as he unbuttoned his red dress shirt, slumping it off his broad shoulders. "Thank you, Al... you flatter me too much," You chuckled softly, looking at him quizzically as he began looping your arms through his crimson button-up.

"Nonsense, my dearest! I speak nothing but the truth." Alastor's voice softened as he fastened a couple of buttons of his shirt around your frame, leaving it rather loose-fitting on you. You smiled up at him softly as he lifted you up once more, carrying you to your side of the bed. Slowly, Alastor lifted the sheets, tucking you under them snuggly.

"There, now my darling is ready for bed!" He cooed. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before darting back up. Just as Alastor was about to turn on his heel to begin his work for the night, your hand wrapped around his wrist. Alastor slowly turned his head, gaze fixated on where your delicate fingers held him.

"Al... can you lay with me? Only for a little- just until I doze off, please?" Your pleading eyes struck something deep from within him. Alastor swore you were his biggest weakness of all, though he would never admit it aloud. Let alone allow any lowly wretch to discover his drawback; you.

"Well, how can I deny such a sweet little request from you? You did say please, after all!" Alastor wasted no time slithering in beside you, pushing you gently toward his side of the bed. His scarred flesh was cold to the touch as your hands came up to his bare chest. Alastor stiffened slightly under your touch before allowing himself to relax into the plush mattress.

Alastor let out a hum of approval as you drew shapes into his chest with your fingertips. "Thank you, my love," You yawned. Finally, permitting your droopy eyes to close shut for good tonight. Alastor quietly shushed you before bringing his hands to your waist, holding you firmly against him.

He became accustomed to your touch, something Alastor never believed would be true in his case. But you were just darling; he couldn't get enough. You were his and his alone. He would make sure everyone in Hell who dared to lay a single finger on you would be the next guest on his broadcast.

Alastor's smile deepened as he played out his little murder fantasy in his head. Your labored breaths began filling the dimly lit space. The crickets chirped quietly from beyond the forest on the other side of the room. Your legs were tangled beneath the sheets as you sleepily weaved your hands in his two-toned locks. Alastor's breath hitched as your fingernails lightly grazed the base of his ears. A crimson color coated his cheeks.

As Alastor allowed himself to succumb to your touch, his mind wandered. Just how did he get so soft? How did he allow you to sneak your way into his cold dead heart? His feelings were conflicting. Alastor cared for you deeply, but fuck did it frighten him more than anything. He was a prideful man, cool, calm, and collected. But you caused his mask to slip ever so slightly.

Just what was he to do about this revelation?

A small sigh crackled out of his throat as his smile slipped; a rare sight to be seen. Alastor's eyes closed softly as he rubbed small circles into your hips with the pads of his thumbs. Allowing himself to drift off into a deep slumber.

The workload would still be there in the morning after all, but this moment with you was fleeting. So he planned on greedily allowing himself to enjoy your embrace to the fullest tonight.

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fluff

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koemiexists · 1 month

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need a overstim fic w alastor pleaseeeeee and maybe some bondage with his tentacles????

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

summary: alastor is your best friend, you think. but he doesn't want that. and you're okay with it. word count: 1.6k tags: smut, light bondage, tentacles, tentacle sex, overstimulation, monster form alastor, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie, vaginal sex a/n: sorry for the wait!! i have been busy with school, as per the usual... but again!! slowly but surely!! the tortoise wins the race as they say!

You and Alastor were practically best friends. He never said it explicitly, but you knew that you and him had to be really close for him to be so at ease with you.

Rosie had told you that not once had his smile dropped, even in private with her. You, however, witnessed it one time. It was an accident, sure, you had just looked up at the exact moment his smile dropped from a wide grin to a bit of a grimace. It happened so quickly you almost thought you were imagining things.

Considering this, if anyone asked, you would confidently say that you and Alastor are best friends.

Alastor didn’t think the same, though, you came to realize when he loomed over your bed one night.

You were upset, to be honest, especially because you barely had time to yank your hands out of your underwear when you heard the telltale sign of him entering.

His shadow had spread out along the wall, staring down at you as you shot up, staring at Alastor, cheeks slightly red. The room was illuminated by two light sources; the constant dim lighting of Hell and all of the artificial bulbs that littered the streets, and Alastor’s glowing red eyes staring straight at you.

“Alastor?” You whispered, tilting your head in question of just why he was at your bed in the middle of the night. Angel had dragged you to a bunch of shopping stores for the entire day, rambling about how your wardrobe was especially lacking, so you were tired, and just wanted to let loose steam before finally sleeping.

In retrospect, you were glad you went along, considering you brought Charlie a new suit that she loved.

A sharp crackle of radio static forced your thoughts back on the Radio Demon’s form, and how he just continued to stare, before clearing his throat, the constant noise altering his voice rising.

“Apologies, (Name).” He started slowly, gently sitting at the edge of your bed as you continued to silently look at him, your confusion heightening as you began to get apprehensive of what his goal was here.

Despite the air thickening with static and apprehension, you couldn’t help the fact that you began to get wetter at the sight of Alastor. He cleared his throat, eyes narrowing at your form.

“Why are you here?” You question softly, removing your covers from your body as you begin to perspire lightly. “You don’t normally come into the women’s bedrooms without permission. You said that it’s not of a gentleman’s nature to do so without courting her...”

He nods lightly, inclining his head towards you as he places his microphone to the side. “You’re correct,” Alastor’s eyes are on you again, glowing lightly as his grin sharpens. “And I am here particularly to court you. Although... it seems I may have interrupted a private matter.”

You flushed, and looked away. “Yeah, you have. Is that why you were acting a bit weird?”

Alastor huffed. “Weird?” His fluffy ears drew back against his head as he rolled his eyes, his grin still present. “I was not acting in an abnormal way.”

Feeling bold, you decide to wake the lion in the den with some teasing. “Oh? Am I supposed to believe that, Al? Obviously, something is up. You’re acting weird around me.” You huffed, crossing your arms as you glared up at him.

“Watch your mouth, dear. I will not be kind to you if you keep talking.”

You snort. “How are you going to shut me up, hm? Is the big, bad Radio Demon going to broadcast my screams? Going to make me beg for forgiveness? Are you going to try and take my soul? Huh?” You’re not sure why you’re so emboldened, and why you’re trying to get a rise out of the one sinner who can kill you in an instant, yet you feel thrilled when you see his brows furrow.

His antlers grew in size, and his eyes became radio dials as his large size towered your smaller frame. His grin was so wide, you felt your heart stop for a moment as his claws dug deep into the side of your pillow, right by your head.

Alastor watched you yelp in fear, and he can almost smell the way your blood was pumping, the way you began to clam up. “Done?” He spoke slowly, as you nodded. “Good.”

Instead of shifting to his regular form, he just snapped his fingers, and you let out a high pitched squeal when your pajamas disappeared from your body. You were left stark naked, and Alastor only gave you a look, as if to punish you for your behavior.

“Bad girls don’t get to orgasm once and be done with it.” A tentacle shot out from his back as his shadow self held your legs in order to stop any potential movement you may make. “You’ll take what I give you. And you have made me very upset, (Name).”

You whimpered, but he ignored it, instead pulling a chair up and sitting right next to the bed. His tentacle then went straight to your awaiting cunt, rubbing from the opening of your tight pussy to the tip of your clit.

Twisting, you let out another squeaky noise, eyes wide and face flushed. Alastor peered at you, but you only let out a gasping ‘green’ as the tentacle plunged deep in you. You shifted again, trying to make the appendage go deeper into you.

“Needy? I barely touched you.” He smirked at your writhing form, the way your hair was splayed against the pillows. Your hips began to buck upwards, trying to get closer to the base of the tentacle. “Who were you thinking of?”

You sobbed out in pleasure, feeling your abdomen tighten as a second appendage began to rub at your clit at a fast pace. “W-what? What are you-” You interrupted yourself with another pleading moan exiting your mouth.

Alastor rubbed your legs slowly, humming. “When you were masturbating.”

“Before you arrived?” You moaned out, an arm over your head as you hiccuped. “I- It’s embarrassing. This is embarrassing.” You told him, trying to keep your noises at bay. You felt your high cresting, but you didn’t want to cum so quickly. The tentacles kept their touches up, and you bit your lip hard, drawing blood.

He narrowed his eyes at you, the room filling with a cursed energy as he continued his ministrations, ever so slightly speeding up as you barreled to your release.

You orgasmed around the tentacle inside you, whimpering as the other one rubbed your clit at the same quick pace, throwing you into the side of overstimulation. Crying out, you try to push it out of the way, however two more tentacles come out to pull your arms back. You writhed, your leg automatically jolting out in response to the constant stimulation on your cunt, and you shrieked as Alastor began to tease another tentacle against your already filled pussy.

“Now who?” He inquired once again, watching as you sobbed from the pleasure, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. His erection pressed against his tight pants, but he just disregarded the pressure, focusing on the way your hair was tousled up, and the saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth.

After another tortuous moment of this, you caved, bucking your hips as your lips parted. “You! You, Alastor! I was thinking- I was-” You moaned roughly, and he smirked as you tried to gain your bearings. “Mm, I was rubbing my wet cunt at the mere thought of you!”

Humming, Alastor grasped your hips, retracting his appendages that were holding your arms down. He leaned over you, in perfect position to thrust inside if he was bare.

“You look gorgeous.” Was all he breathed out, as you shrieked when the second tentacle at your cunt thrusted inside. You instantly came, whining pathetically for more, even as you were overstimulated.

The other appendages retracted, and he unzipped his pants to thrust his hard dick inside you. You choked on a moan at the feeling of his cock, especially considering it was thick and long due to his monstrous form. “Al- Mm, Alastor!” You keened, wrapping your trembling legs around his hips.

With every thrust, the bed shook tremendously, causing the headboard to bang against the wall. In your lust-filled mind, you couldn’t remember how there was others in this hotel, how everyone must have woken up due to the amount of noise you were making-

“No one will see you in such a state, darling.” Alastor groaned through the heavy static in his voice. You let out a quiet whimper as he abused your cunt with sloppy thrusts. He was getting close, and you just wished he’d fill your pussy, to the point where you were stuffed full.

You were well aware of his questioning gaze at you, and you tried your best to fight through the fucked dumb haze, swallowing a few time as you tried to move your tongue to make sounds. “Breed me,” You stuttered out, looking up at Alastor. “Breed me until I’m full, Alastor, please.”

Alastor growled, and shoved his cock deep inside you, watching as you squirted all over him and the bed from the strength of your orgasm. Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, and he grunted as he pulled your hips flushed against his own, before cumming inside you.

You couldn’t even moan anymore, instead making a tired yet pleasured noise at the feel of Alastor’s thick, hot cum inside your swollen, puffy pussy.

You felt, rather than saw, Alastor slowly become his regular form. He shifted you gently, and you groaned at the way your legs ached. “Apologies, dear.” Alastor said, seeming apologetic as he kissed your sweaty forehead. “You must rest now. I believe you are properly sated?”

Smiling cheekily, you gave him a half-lidded lustful glance. “I may need some tending to, tomorrow.”

Alastor let out a small huff of amusement, smiling genuinely at you. “After I tell Charlie and the others that you’re perfectly fine.”

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jyoongim · 25 days

Note

Alastors lover who is such small happy thing, always smiling but not like alastor creepy way, and who always dot on alastor and babies him. She never really got scared of him and always looks at him in awe in his demon form.

Think it would be amusing, hell even he would find it amusing such a small thing fussing and being overprotective on him.

You were quite a pleasant addition to the hotel.

Unlike your partner, you were sweet and helpful.

Alastor thought your presence would ease the frazzled nerves of the residents if you were by his side.

You always wore a smile on your face, it wasn’t like Alastor’s ever present and malicious smile.

It was genuine.

It was interesting to see how you and Alastor interacted.

The Overlord didnt mind your touches and fretting. He let you do what you please.

The two of you were polar opposites.

But opposite attract…and in those case it was just fascinating.

You were in the kitchen preparing dinner. Humming a soft tune as you cooked.

Most of the residents weren’t picky eaters and they loved your cooking, so you prepared something that everyone would like.

Once you finished everyone’s dinner, you started on making Alastor’s.

Alastor had rather peculiar tastes.

The kitchen filled with the residents as the smell of food wafted through the hotel.

You already had their plates prepared and dressed. Multiple voices chirped with appreciative remarks as they dug in.

Your smile widened when soft static filled the air, a feathery touch wrapped around you before Alastor’s voice greeted your ears.

”Morning doll! Dont you look hellish today”

Your big doe eyes turned to greet his sharp ones.

“Good morning Al. Take a seat, Im almost done cookinng”

The tall red demon hummed as he took a seat at the table.

His ears flicked as you approach with a steaming plate.

”I hope you like it. Im not sure of the taste. I’ve never cooked flesh before but it looked a bit like sausage so I think it’ll be ok”

You heard several gags.

Alastor waved you off, picking up a fork “Oh I’m sure its fine. Your cooking ain’t ever failed me yet”

You finally took a seat to enjoy your own plate.

You chatted with the gang. Laughing at Angel’s jokes and agreeing with Charlie’s plans and offering advice for the day and talking with Vaggie.

Once dinner was over, everyone went about their night.

It was only you and Alastor left.

He sighed as he finished his food. “You have quite a way in the kitchen my dear. Dinner was delicious”

You giggled, taking his plate to wash.

The two of you chatted as you washed the dishes. He slithered behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as his head settled on your shoulder.

The two of you stood there in bliss until you finished and turned around.

“Why don’t you listen in on a broadcast tonight? Im sure you’ll find it entertaining” he chuckled.

You smiled as he escorted you to his radio tower.

———————————————————————-

“Alastor you need to see the tailor. Look at this!” You scowled as you held up his tail coat. The ends were raggedy, it was missing a button or two, and needed a few adjustments.

Alastor chuckled “I will make time to visit when Im out today”

You shook your head “No ill do it. You have a meeting today so don’t worry” Alastor’s brows raised “Then what am I to wear dear?”

You rummaged through the closet and pulled out another jacket.

Alastor’s shadow wrapped around you, purring happily as you helped Alastor get ready.

Once he was properly dressed he bided you a goodbye before you stopped him.

You held his tie ”You’re not dressed properly. You want to be fully dress to terrorize the masses”

You smiled as you began to tie his bow tie around his neck. Alastor tilted his head as he watched you. You were much smaller compared to the demon. He watched as you focused on your task and mumble to yourself. You were so cute. Such a sweet soul you were. Fretting over a powerful Overlord.

Once in place, you fluffed it out and soothed out any wrinkles in his attire.

You beamed once you took a step back and admired your work. “There all ready and fashionable”

Alastor looked in the mirror and smiled at your work.

While he usually dressed in red, you had put him in black. You tucked a red handkerchief in his breast pocket and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Static popped and buzzed affectionately and before he could pull you into him, you pushed him to the door. “Now off with you. You have a busy day”

—————————————————————————-

Your small fame stood in front of Alastor as a sinner pulled his knife. You were growling and your hair swirled around you as your demonic form appeared.

The sinner laughed “Tsk! What man need a woman to defend him? Haha! Why don’t you settle down sweetheart hmm? After I kill this loser I can show you what a real man is like” he said suggestively, making your eyes narrow.

A large hand touched your shoulder “I can handle this dear” the sinner’s eyes widened as Alastor transformed and went to scream, but inky, black tentacles shot out from behind you to grab the demon.

Alastor stalked past you and tore into the demon, ripping him apart.

While most found Alastor’s demon form terrifying, you found it beautiful.

You watched as blood and limbs flew about, but you focused on Alastor.

He had grew twice his size, black antlers flared out and tall, deep growls and manic laughter erupted from his chest.

He sighed and patted himself down as he turned his nose up at the mess. Your hand skimmed his arm, to alert him of your presence. When he turned to you, blood covered his face. You lifted the hem of your dress and dapped it at his face, tutting “This face is too handsome to be covered in blood. You sure made a mess…Look at you! Its gonna take me forever to get these stains out” you huffed as you wiped his face clean. You smiled once he was clean. “Next time let m take care of it. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself or you if need be”

Alastor let out a chuckle, placing a claw under your chin. He leaned in to place a soft kiss to your lips

”You are very amusing my dear. Most cower in fear at my presence”

You rolled your eyes, lips curling wide “You don’t scare me Mr. Radio Demon” you leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around you and went about the day.

What a interesting little soul you were indeed.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #alastor x reader #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel fluff

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lovebugism · 2 months

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hi! can i request shy/innocent reader who blushes at any sex talk, but one day she shows up covered in hickies that she didn’t notice and eddie, robin and the gang are grilling her trying to find out who shes with and steve’s just standing in the corner like🧍‍♂️

ty for requesting :D — the gang finds a hickey on you during movie night (shy!fem!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Slasher films, Eddie tells you, are just excuses to make the goriest, raunchiest movies known to man. But that’s why they’re so good! he exclaims like a giddy teenage boy before sliding the bulky VHS into the tape player.

Your stomach’s been in knots about it since. You’re made of something more delicate than that — not particularly built for gruesome horror — but you swallow down your worrying anyway.

Robin’s smacking on gummy worms at your feet, Eddie hasn’t stopped smiling since he sat down beside you, and Steve’s got one toned arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder. The combination of familiarity takes your mind off the whole thing when you threaten to scare yourself about it.

A half-hour in, and the scariest thing you’ve seen so far, is an overtly theatric sex scene. You only get a glimpse of the static nudity before a clammy, ringed hand splays itself over your eyes. It doesn’t save you from the high-pitched squealing and gruff moans, though, so you’re not entirely sure it’s doing much.

“What are you doing?” you ask Eddie through quiet giggles.

“This shit’s gross,” he answers, muffled through the candy in his cheek. “You don’t need to be watchin’ stuff like this.”

Your brows furrow beneath his palm. “I’m not a child, Eds.”

“Yeah, but you’re too pure! I wouldn’t feel right if I just let you watch it!”

Steve returns from the kitchen then, with a bowl of refilled popcorn in hand. He scoops a handful into his mouth and scolds through the mouthful. “Eddie. Leave her alone.”

The pale hand slips from your face when the scene ends — the climax sufficiently interrupted by a serial killing, chainsaw weilding psycho. The wild-haired boy scoffs. “Jeez! Sorry for trying to take care of your girlfriend, Harrington!”

“I do that on my own. I don’t need your help, freak,” Steve retorts, unthinking, before plopping down beside you and shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

All three of you glance at him with unwavering stares. He blinks back at you for a moment until the realization hits him. Rolling his chocolate eyes, he grouses, “Not like that, you pervs.”

Eddie grins. “Oh, so it’s not like that, then?” he wonders in a teasing lilt.

“Well,” Steve shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “I mean, obviously it is, but—”

“Steve…” you waver in an inaudible whine, shrinking back into the couch, hoping it’ll swallow you whole.

The boy seems confused by your sudden sheepishness. He’s never been shy about anything in his life. “I’m just saying!” he chuckles. “I’m your boyfriend. I take care of you. That’s, like, my whole job… One that I do very well, might I add.”

Robin grumbles while Steve and Eddie laugh like a couple of teenage boys. She rises from her comfy spot on the carpet and reaches for your hand. She pulls you into the kitchen behind her and calls to them over her shoulder. “You guys are such freaks, you know that?”

——————

Tired and slightly tipsy, you stand with Steve on his back porch. A cigarette hangs loosely from his plush lips. His chiseled jaw tightens every time he takes a drag. The sight of him is impossible to look away from.

“You don’t think I take care of you?” he blurts before blowing smoke from his mouth. The wisps disappear beneath the starry velvet sky.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. When Eddie was making that stupid joke,” the boy explains, snuffing the cig out in the ashtray on the railing. He glances at you with sparkling honey eyes, half beneath his lashes, before turning away again. Almost shy. “I said it was my job to take care of you or whatever, and you just… Kinda grumbled about it. Like you don’t think I do or something.”

Your chest stings.

“Of course you do!” you answer sheepishly. “It’s just… hard for me to talk about, I guess. In front of Eddie and Robin and everything…”

“Oh,” he hums, nodding with his pink lips softly pouted. When the realization passes, he bites back a bashful beam. “So… you do think I take care of you, then?”

You roll your eyes, still impossibly shy. You know that he knows that answer now — he just wants to hear you say it. “Obviously…” you murmur with a quiet smile you try hard to keep hidden.

“Good,” he says to himself, nodding like he’s proud. “That’s good…”

You’re not sure how, but you end up squished between his body and the deck railing in record time. Steve kisses the breath from your lungs with lips tasting of nicotine, cola, and sour candy. His golden hands dig into your hips while his mouth trails to your jaw.

You twist your hands in the strands of his silky chestnut hair as his plush lips lock with your thrumming pulse. A sigh spills from your mouth at the tingling feeling — warm and wet, then stinging for a moment. Steve runs his tongue over the bruise he left there.

“Don’t leave a mark,” you scold in a slurred whine.

His chuckle fans across your neck before he parts from you. The lovebite is hardly noticeable now, just beginning to blossom beneath your jaw. “I think it might be a little too late for that, babe,” he teases with lidded eyes.

The backdoor slides open before Steve can kiss you again. Eddie stumbles out with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Robin nearly runs into the back of him when the boy stops suddenly in his tracks. His chocolate eyes flit between the two of you, now separated and trying to play it cool.

“…Are we interrupting something?” he murmurs through the stick in his mouth.

Steve shrugs and puts his hands on his hips, so not cool. “What? No. What are you— What are you even doing out here?”

The lighter clicks. “…Smoking?”

He glances at Robin, then. Her ocean eyes widen as she shrugs. “I just didn’t wanna be left out,” she murmurs in an answer to his silent question.

“Fair enough.”

Eddie squeezes between you and Steve, clumsy and unknowing. He glances at you innocently once, then again with suspicious, squinted eyes. “Is that a bruise?” he wonders before turning away to exhale the smoke from his lungs.

Your chest wrenches. “Huh?” you hum with pinched brows.

“You have a bruise on your neck,” he tells you, pointing a ringed finger to the blooming mark Steve left some minutes ago now. “What happened?”

He says it like he’s concerned. Like he’s worried something had happened to you. The possibility of it being a hickey doesn’t even cross his mind — ‘cause you’re just too pure for that.

You shrug and start to stammer, somehow less cool than the overtly uncasual boy on Eddie’s other side. “I don’t know. It’s probably just... The lighting or something.”

His fluffy brows pinch together as his eyes dart over your face. You’re visibly flustered, lips softly swollen and shining with spit. He looks at Steve next and finds the boy looking much of the same. Only then does he realize what he’s interrupted.

“Eugh!” he groans in disgust, features screwed-up and puppylike.

Steve fights back a laugh. “What?!”

“You guys are a bunch of dirtbags!” Eddie shouts.

“It’s just a hickey, Eds,” the brunette boy says, chuckling before he can help it. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Absolutely harlot behavior. Both of you,” he chides, shaking his head until his wild curls sway around his jaw. While the rest of you laugh, he grumbles. “I don’t even feel like smoking now. You guys just ruined this cig for me.”

The three of you blink at him when he takes another drag. It takes him a moment too long to register the stares. When he does, he spreads his palms in defense and mumbles through the stick. “Well, I’m not gonna waste it!”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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demonic0angel · 1 month

Text

Celestial Bodies AU (maybe part 1/?)

Superman flew through space, eying the new galaxy that he and Batman had discovered the night before.

“So? What does it look like?” Batman asked him through the communications.

“Well…” Superman looked around. “It’s definitely weird. It has an enormous cluster of stars, but I’m not feeling stronger…”

“What? Are you saying that the radiation isn't working?"

"The stars here are all white stars or above, but they don't make me feel stronger. Actually... I think I'm feeling weaker too. Something is definitely wrong here."

Batman was quiet for only a moment before he asked, "Are you in any current danger? Can you defend yourself?"

"No, I'm fine. I don't sense any living beings around me. I can defend myself." Superman understood what Batman was trying to say. "Are you asking me to stay and continue observing?"

"If you can."

"Of course. I'll stay and continue investigating."

"Thank you," Batman said softly and Superman smiled at that.

"Don't sweat it! Let me get the receiver."

Superman pulled out the device that allowed him to connect to radio signals from space, and began turning it on. However, the moment it turned to life, the radio began to malfunction, short circuiting and turning into static as it shook itself. Superman nearly tossed it away before suddenly, it was normal again.

And then, the signal began to pick up.

And it began to sing.

Superman stared wide eyed as a symphony of music and singing came through the radio. It was a little choir of humming and barely audible voices, sounding as though they were underwater. Still, it was undeniably beautiful, like something heard from heaven.

"Batman," Superman said, hushed, "are you hearing this?"

"... yes."

"It's amazing! Are these stars making these sounds?" Superman continued flying, observing the blue and yellow stars, each radiating a heat that could not power him. He continued flying, listening to the ethereal song that called for listeners.

He hadn't been paying attention when he felt an ever sensed blistering heat and a force beginning to drag him forward. He turned his head and his eyes widened again before he cursed and flew a little distance away.

"Superman? What is it?"

"Batman, turn on your visuals," he said as he turned on the camera.

There was silence before Superman heard the barely audible click and then a buzz of a camera. The camera was attached to Superman and it would send the views back to Batman, allowing him to see just what Superman was freaking out over. When it turned on, Batman was silent for a moment, clearly as confused as Superman was feeling.

"... tell me what I'm seeing."

"A quasar, a protostar that is possibly becoming a blue star, a neutron star, and a black hole all coexisting right next to each other. As well as several planets all circling them like stars."

Superman watched the scene with a sense of both interest, awe, and horrified confusion.

The scene in front of him just wasn't possible. Not only would a black hole consume everything around it, there was already a quasar nearby doing the same thing with an even stronger force. However, the protostar and neutron star were fine even though they were so close, along with the few planets. The planetary nebula around the neutron star circled around each celestial object in an assembly line, flowing from the neutron star to the black hole to the quasar and then to the protostar. If the nebula wasn't taken by one celestial object, it was passed onto another.

Most of the nebula seemed to be absorbed by the quasar and protostar, but the two of them seemed to coexist in peace. The neutron star continued to spin and the black hole surrendered most of the nebula to its neighbors. The planets also spun peacefully, a few even had rings that were not taken by the quasar or black hole.

It was like only foreign objects, like Superman himself, would be absorbed.

It was fascinating. Like they were alive and knew how to live with one another.

Superman explained it to Batman in detail. Batman was silent before he said, "This shouldn't be possible. How could this occur? Unless there was some sort of external force that is keeping each astronomical object to themselves and prevents them from destroying each other, there's no way this could be a natural occurrence."

"Are you suggesting that this is man-made?"

"How could it be anything but? Aren't you listening to singing right now?"

Superman raised the receiver and the singing on the other side continued without pause, a constant symphony of voices.

"... you could be right. Do you want to try and make contact?"

"Yes. Send back a signal."

Superman pressed a few buttons on the receiver to send a radio message back and in an instant, the singing died down, leaving only a faint crackling and a water-like noise.

Biting the bullet, Superman then spoke into the receiver.

"Hello. My name is Superman, and I come from the Milky Way galaxy. I am a kryptonian from the planet Earth. I wish to peacefully connect with you, whoever you are."

More crackling.

Batman cursed softly in his ear and Superman winced, already feeling that he was too impulsive. However, just as he was about to backtrack and escape from this particular galaxy, there was a whispered, shuddery, "Hello."

Superman blinked and then called out, "H-Hello!"

There was silence again, only that underwater staticky noise coming through.

"Can I take this as you accepting my peace offering?"

"... yes."

The sound that came from the receiver seemed to come from many, all joining together into one.

There was a hitched gasp and then Batman hissed, "Keep talking! Ask them questions! Ask them if they want to make contact with us or if we can form an alliance!"

Superman nodded to himself and spoke into the receiver, "Can you see me?"

"We see you."

Superman paused and then continued in stride, "I'm sorry, but I can't see you. Can you show yourself?"

"In front of you."

There was nothing but the strange collection of celestial objects. Unless there was someone inside? It could be possible, but Superman hadn't detected anyone living around him for awhile now.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but—"

"In front of you."

Batman then said through the communicator, "Superman, the neutron star!"

The neutron star in front of him then began to spin faster and faster, before lighting up into a pulsar in the very next second.

Superman was stunned at the sight, as the radiation emitting from the neutron star passed over him over and over and over, radiating with a cold burn that resonated through his bones and made his limbs weak. The impossibly quick change from a regular neutron star into a pulsar only made him even more frightened as the radio signals made the receiver scream.

"We are here." The crackling voices said again, all as one.

Superman flew backwards, his breath caught in his throat.

"Superman?! Why did you go backwards?" Batman demanded.

Superman flinched and then he said softly, "Sorry. Instinct."

It was true. The fear that had entered his body had made him instinctively retreat. It was even worse than looking death in the eye. It was like the feeling of knowing the End of All, of knowing that your existence would be wiped out, of knowing that resistance would be futile and that your death wouldn't even be enough to save the ones you loved.

His heart pounded as he flew a little closer, enough to feel the heat from the quasar again and almost reluctantly said into the receiver, "Are you the neutron star?"

"We are all what you see in front of you."

"'We'? Are all of you speaking to me?"

The neutron star pulsed again, spinning just a little faster like before.

"I am the King. And these are my family."

The voice than switched out, a barely noticeable change in the difference because it was all the same voices speaking as one. However, now a different voice was leading.

"Ask your questions, Son of Jor-El. What do you seek?"

Superman's eyes widened. Then after a moment of silence, he said, "I am here to explore the universe and find protection for the planet I live on. Could you help us?"

"We are but objects in the sky. We will only answer questions."

Batman interrupted. "Ask them if they can see the future and if anything will happen to Earth."

Superman explained to the collection of celestial bodies, "This is my colleague and partner, Batman. We work together for Earth's safety."

"We know. He is the best of you."

There was silence from both Superman and Batman. Superman was stunned, but he also couldn't help but smile. "Yes, that is true. Can you see the future? Can you tell us if any dangers will be coming to earth."

Another voice came to life, taking the lead in speaking. "We can. Whatever comes, you and your Justice League can handle it."

Superman could hear Batman breathe a sigh of relief. Superman felt the same and he placed a hand on his heart as he gave a sigh of relief as well. "Thank goodness." Before Batman said anything, Superman asked, "Could you tell us more about yourself? How do you have a consciousness?"

The radio crackled and popped for a little while before the first voice, the one who called themself 'King' spoke up.

"We were like you once. But then I became a legend."

"Like me?" Superman asked.

Batman then said, "Ask them if they were human."

"Were you human?"

More silence.

And then—

"Yes."

Superman's eyes widened and he couldn't help but gasp in shock, a hand flying to his mouth as he stared at the celestial bodies in front of him, all of which used to be human. These enormous objects that used to be human, now forced to succumb to emptiness and spin in space without pause.

"Are... are you okay? We have magic users in our team, maybe we can offer you help?" Superman asked.

Batman hissed in the comms, "Superman! We don't even know them!"

The receiver crackled some more and the voice changed again. The sound of them being underwater seemed louder than ever.

"We are fine, Son of Jor-El. We are happy."

The person speaking switched to someone new.

"Ask your questions and then leave." The receiver quieted again. And then they spoke, "My little sister needs her rest for her rebirth."

Superman's eyes flicked over to the protostar, which was still absorbing most of the nebula. The only thing that could have possibly been 'reborn' was the protostar, as it needed to heat itself to start the transition to become a main sequence star. Was that one the little sister?

"Just two more questions, if that's alright." He could hear Batman's deep, frustrated sigh. He probably had more questions but was frustrated by Superman's curtesy and his lack of scientific curiosity. Superman knew he was annoyed but he felt an odd camaraderie with the celestial objects. He didn't want to anger them if necessary.

"Speak."

"How old are you? And will you help us again in the future?"

The receiver crackled.

The voice changed once more. "We are all far, far, far older than you imagine. Time does not work for us like other stars."

The speaker switched again. "But in human years, we have not reached our adult ages yet."

The honest confession made Superman's eyes widen, especially as he realized what they meant.

A bunch of children had turned into stars and black holes before they were even adults?

Superman was suddenly starkly reminded of Robin, Batman's sidekick, one of the very few children that he knew in their line of business. By Batman's silence, he was probably thinking along the same lines.

"Speak your last question and leave."

"Can the Justice League depend on you for further help and assistance in the future? I would like to come back if I can."

"Our King was once a hero too. Come if you need it."

That was when the quasar sent out a flare, the gases and planetary nebula around it rubbing against each other hard enough to send sparks Superman's way. It was clearly a warning, especially as the neutron star began spinning rapidly again, radiation beginning to light the air around him in a devastating chill.

"Leave," They all chorused.

Superman immediately turned away without hesitation. "Thank you very much! I will come again!"

The receiver did not speak again. Instead, the songs restarted and the voices continued to sing a song that he could not recognize. It was ethereal, if not haunting.

Superman was smiling as he left. Batman was silent in his ear and Superman finally asked, "So? What do you think?"

"... I think we need more information."

"You're just feeling soft because they said they were heroes and were also children," Superman teased.

"How do you know they weren't lying?" Batman sounded angry.

However, Superman wasn't concerned and only laughed. "Lying? For what? They could definitely rip me apart if they wanted. They even had a baby star with them."

"Hnn." The old softie definitely suddenly had a moment of heartache from remembering the baby star.

Superman glanced behind himself, where the fascinating cluster of stars, planets, and black holes all existed in harmony together. The quasar and neutron star lit the way alongside the other stars and the tiny galaxy grew smaller and smaller as Superman flew away.

Whatever this galaxy actually was, Superman would be glad if they could find the help they needed and helped the Justice League in turn.

".... let's come back in a month," Batman said, sounding like it was pulled out from his teeth.

It was good that Batman felt the same way.

Perhaps the next time Superman came, he could chat some more with this little galaxy?

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I did so much research for this, it's crazy 😭

Dan is the black hole and Danny is the neutron star. The reason is that both of them are technically star corpses (a large or high-mass collapsed or dead star can either result in nothing, a black hole, or a neutron star) and while Dan consumes everything around him, Danny is a remnant of a star before him. The planetary nebula that came from Danny going supernova is consumed by his siblings, mostly Jazz or Dani. Dan and Danny don't fight over it bc they love their sisters.

Dani is a protostar, which is also a baby star. I hc that she used to be a star before, but she's just restarting her rebirth until she becomes a black hole or a neutron star like her siblings :3

Jazz is a quasar, which is a different type of black hole, (inspired by this post I made). She and Danny light the way for their little galaxy.

Tucker and Sam are also there, as planets! They used to be stars but they're reborn as planets this time. Tucker is a desert planet with several Saturn-like rings of metals and sand. Sam is a terrestrial planet and is capable of life. All that's on her is plants and animals tho (they haven't gotten enough time to evolve yet). The rest of the crew (Valerie, Wes, etc) are also there and are planets. They never really reach the level of stars tho.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #jazz fenton #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #celestial object au #dan phantom #dani phantom #dani fenton #danielle fenton #danielle phantom #phantom family #dp crossover #dp au #dp x dc au

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creepy-friday · 9 months

Text

More Creepypasta Mansion Headcanons

Warnings: dark content,violence,

blood,mental illness and drugs mentions,suggestive content

if your room is close to Jeff or Ben,you're not getting any sleep.Both of them would play loud obnoxious music;Jeff would blast metal while the blonde would play hours of techno music while gaming sounds would be heard plus inappropriate loud sounds from whatever he's watching/playing/enjoying himself to

The calmest and safest times are during breakfast or when the others eat in general,everytime someone is in the kitchen they just do their own thing and leave

EJ doesn't need sleep,so if you happen to wander the hallways at night you might bump into him

Slenderman doesn't care about anything that doesn't directly affect him,he would actually be pissed if a resident would complain about something that he doesn't care about,that's why all the creeps can be unhinged at times

One violent fight has to happen at least once per month we all know the violent motherfuckers who start it and an argument has to happen at least once per day

If you're a shy and an empathetic person then your stay in the mansion can be hell,that's why you should stick with the ones who can make your life a little bearable

Even lone wolves like EJ and Bloody Painter don't stay alone for long periods of time.If you're isolated for a long period of time you might hear the static again..some say it's Slenderman who doesn't want his creeps to be alone because the eldritch might care about them,some say that it's because their loneliness can get into their quality of work and it would piss him off

Besides the blood and the desperation,most creeps keep themselves clean,but you might see some residents like Jeff who can wear the same pair of sweatpants for 7 days in a row

If you need money you can simply go to Ben,he will either order what you need for you or make himself useful and get you some cash,altough he is a little fuck and wants something in return even if it's HIS JOB to provide the residents what they need.Maybe a blowjob under the desk will do

Drugs are easy to obtain,even Nina has a bottle of something hidden inside her room,you just have to know what you want

One of the top unspoken rules between the residents is to never,in under any circumstances,never enter another creep's room without permision,the only keys that are provided are to proxies rooms.

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adams-angels · 2 months

Note

Insecure Adam x reader! like he's insecure about his face because Eve and Lilith abandoned him

Oh this was too fun to write. Insecure boys 😳🥵

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Imposter syndrome

Adam's a nice enough guy. A bit too cocky for your taste, just straight up vulgar at times. So when he asked you on a date you initially said no thanks. And he took it well or so you thought.

Internally he was freaking the fuck out. He hated rejection. HATED IT. It made him feel small. His chest collapsing in on its self. He quickly hurried away from you. You wouldn't see him for weeks maybe even months.

The next time you saw him is mask was slighty different. The LED brighter, more golden. The horns bigger and pointer. It was a small change but you notice.

"hey, Adam?"

"what's up, sweet tits."

"uh, your mask. Is it new?" You ask with a smile.

He gets a shit eating grin. "Yeah. You noticed?"

"yes, well, I tend to notice things." You replied playfully.

Adam took this as a good sign. You must like his new mask! You must like him! "Soo... What are you doing later?" He checks his nails, not giving you any time to reply. "I know this tight place. Only the best get in... I could... I don't know. Take you? If you want?"

"oh, well, I didn't have anything planned. So.. sure, Adam." His feathers puffed up in delight. "Cool. Pick you up at 8, sugartits." And that was it. You were dating Adam, the first man, the original dick.

You've been dating for about a year. You've gotten to the point of spending most weekends at each others apartments. And you noticed Adam will always have his mask on. He'd walk into the bathroom shower and come back with it on before anything else. He'd wear it during sex. Even to eat! You didn't even understand how that worked. You remember one time coming over and having to wait outside for 5 minutes because he needed his mask on. It was honestly getting annoying. You wanted to see his face. Especially when getting intimate. To feel his real lips on your body. Well, tonight was the night you decided. You were going to ask him to take off his mask.

You were cooking dinner while Adam was sat on your couch watching tv.

"Adam, sweetie... Can I ask you something?"

"sure thing, sugartits." His eyes not leaving the screen.

"why do you always wear that mask?"

His heart dropped, palms immediately went clammy as he shoots you a look. "What? Don't you like it?" You put down the knife you were using to chop up the vegetables for the meal. "no, of course I like it. It's just.." you walk over to the sink to wash your hands. "It would be nice to see you face. Like your real face?" You couldn't see but his hands clenched his robe so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

All he heard was static from then on, thoughts circling his head. What if you laugh at him. What if you leave him. What if you hate him. What if you're so repulsed by him you- "Adam!" You were crouched in front of him. He didn't even notice. "Huh, what?"

"you like.. froze? Are you okay?"

"tsk, yeah. I'm fuckin' Adam. I'm always okay, bitch." He leaned back in the couch putting your his arm over the back of it.

"well, I was talking and you stopped responding.. if you don't want to take your mask off you don't have to." He didn't even know you asked.

"psht, I'm not bothered. If you want me to take my mask off just ask." He rolled his eyes then looked away.

"okay... Can you take off your mask please?"

He froze again, his eyes dart to you."s-seriously?" He scoffed. "Whatever. You want it off you can take it off." You stood up. "Okay." Your hands reached down to his mask, he started pushing himself away, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as your fingers curled under neck. You got up to his jaw before he pulled it back down. "I'M NOT READY! I'M NOT READY! PLEASE!" You snatched your hands away as his gripped onto the horns holding his mask in place. "Adam?"

"I'm not... I can't do it. Please don't take it off..."

"I won't. I promise."

"I'm sorry.." his voice cracked and it broke your heart.

"no, no, don't be. You don't have to be sorry." You put your hand on his knees for reassurance. "When you're ready. Okay?"

"okay.." his wraps his arms around you, pulling you on to his lap. You both just hold each other. Until he's ready.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader

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hyhkai · 2 months

Text

choi beomgyu — surprise!

[ 🥞 ] where beomgyu, your dumb puppy boyfriend is down whenever you are.

cw : face sitting + riding (?), they were watching one piece, sub!gyu, slapping/smacking, dirty talk, cum. let me know if there's anything I should add because I'm bad at cw's <3

a/n ; not proofread and tumblr didn't save my first draft. i hate life. inspired from a porn video I need to detox my brain and go on an exaggeration of a long walk and fade into the dusk.

eyes focused on the screen as episode 367 played on the tv, nami forcing the chipmunk zombies to tell her where the real treasure is as your eyes got drawn over to beomgyu, sitting on the edge of the bed as he looked down at his phone, scratching his neck and ruffling his hair.

there's only one explanation as to why your eyes are off the anime. he's so fucking sexy.

shifting in the bed, thighs pressed close against one another as your attention kept being off the show and how you wanted to have his perfect too perfect of a face between your legs.

contemplating what to do about your sudden arousal, your mind wandered off to the night of not watching episode 86, and him climbing into the couch with you and muttering with the most horny tone, "if you're down, I'm down. if you're done, I'm done."

oh well.

you sat up, hands playing with the hem of your shirt as you contemplated whether to do this or not.

fuck it.

he's a loser for you, and he's down all the time to the point where he's growing back into his era of teen hormones.

it wasn't long before your top was off your shoulders, and you'd made the headboard into a buttress for your back as you took your pajamas off, eyeing beomgyus back as he played some game.

you were so eager to get bare, yearning to have his mouth all over your thighs. in fact, it was very obvious the moment you entered just how much of a dumb puppy he is when his expression was filled with the fact that he wanted to push you onto the couch, pull your pants down to see the wet patch on your panty that's so obviously there. <3

it's almost laughable that you're bare and your one hell of a horny boyfriend doesn't even know. you huff, a grin plastered as you crawled towards him, causing the bed to jitter.

he was about to turn and look what you're up to, but was soon vehemently shoved into the mattress as you pulled him down, climbing onto his face and holding his hands.

oh he's grinning isn't he.

"oh fuck baby." he mumbled coherently enough as his face was pulled to your clothed pussy like opposites of a magnet. he only made the wet stain in your panties worse, and did so until your clit was traced into the cotton. god really made a sin when he created your boyfriend.

it's almost a crime because he's too too too pretty for his own good. he placed his hands over your thighs and wrapped it around, palming your ass. "lift your hips for me, baby." he mumbled into your pussy. it was whiny, causing you to almost fold and want to do a sixty-nine with him.

you bucked up your hips, and his finger slid your panties to the side as he tilted his head, and his lips latched onto your clit. "h-hah. g-good boy."

he moaned into your pussy, his dick was already pressed up against his pants, his hips bucking into the air and only getting sliding friction; not static. he shook his face, nose bucking up into your cunt, causing your eyes to close shut and lips flatten into a line of pure satisfaction.

his fingers were lurking around your hole, not pressing in but just enough for you to push yourself down onto his body. you let out a moan before you could stop yourself, his tongue swirling around your mess and two fingers right that were contemplating on whether to give you what you want.

"now that's a wet pussy." he mumbled, eyes downward as he stared at your arousal. "h- just fuck me." you mumbled as your fingers scrunched his tshirts fabric between them.

he let go at the tap of your fingers on his forearm, you getting up to turn around— and what a fucking view you got. dumb, dumb beomgyu, laying there as the mute tv's changing lights made his face glisten with your pussy. nothing to be bothered about, he likes it when his face his smothered all up in his favourite girl's pussy.

you gripped on his hair, and your knuckles almost went white when his tongue met your clit. it wasn't fair, his eyes so doe when he looks up at you, his tongue so mean when he eats you out.

"sweet." he kissed your pussy, and thank god you weren't at your apartment, these lewd noises could end up in a discussion with your neighbours. his breath hitting your core, tongue swirling, and yet he tells you he doesn't know how to eat pussy.

"h-hah, beomgyu, you're sure you don't know how to d-do this..?"

"take what I offer, baby." as he licked your nub.

he said something into your pussy that came out so incoherent it was just a vibrating sensation to you. you thought you were almost lost in the moment. almost? you were lost. other hand now on his forehead as you bounced and rubbed yourself all over his face. "y-yeah. take it, boy. fuck. h-hah.." you slapped his forehead to which all he did was laugh at your assumption of how he's the pathetic one, when it's complete antithesis.

his situation wasn't going to be any better than yours anymore when his hips were already thrusting into air whilst he ran out of oxygen. did any of you two care? absolutely not.

starting to get closer and closer, you were already going at it on his face, grinding on his nose and mouth while mumbling all sorts of curse words when he slurped all of you; like the dumb puppy he is.

"h- beom— beom, close. okay?" you said under your breath as his hands were starting to grip his own cock from above his slacks, rubbing himself but not completely, not wholly enough for his own orgasm. and why rub one out when you will be doing it later on anyway?

"on my face, ugh, pleasepleaseplease." he groaned when you did just that, cumming hard. hands pressed into the mattress above his head as you rub yourself sideways onto the homogeneous mixture of your fluids and his spit and saliva as he licked it all up, whatever came near his mouth, he swallowed. "filthy boy, i- ha, hah..." and one good, harsh pat on his head as you grasped his locks again, looking down as you got up.

you laughed at the sight; pretty, shiny beomgyu. literally. a sight that only you and the associates who deny your entry into heaven witness. who cares, he's so pretty.

"good boy." you mumbled as you used his shoulders as support when you plopped down onto the bed.

he opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering to reveal his pretty iris's. "kiss?"

I could write an entire post on why this is bad. I was bored. i apologize for taking your time. ok actually I have absolutely no idea what came into me when I wrote this but I wrote it so hahahahah my bad I'll delete it and disappear.

#beomgyu x female reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x you #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt fic #sub!idol #sub!beomgyu

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upsidedownwithsteve · 5 months

Text

[2.1K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

The week following your night with Steve, you’d had absolutely no problem getting yourself off.

Every night, you lay in bed before sleep took over, your hand shoved down the front of your sleep shorts, fingers slipping clumsily and a little unpracticed over yourself, eyes clenched shut and lips parted silently as you thought about your best friend.

His digits were longer than yours, thicker, able to reach places you couldn’t, filling you up in a way you’d never felt before. But you could hear Steve’s voice in your ear as you swirled messy circles over your clit, chasing that throbbing feeling as you remembered his words.

“Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

Cheek pressed to the pillow, pushing low whines into the cotton, legs spreading wider, knees hitched up as you fought to catch that feeling only Steve was able to give you before.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?”

He’d whispered it in your ear, breath warm against your cheek, hitching and gasping when you had tightened around him.

“My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had gone down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Stomach tensing, the hook there tightening, skin too warm, the idea of your best friend laying between your thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulders too much for you to handle. Would he do it real soft for you? Would he lick over you like a man starved? Only breaking away to talk filth into your slick skin? Would he tell you how good you tasted, how sweet you were?

You came hard, back arching, a gasp leaving your lips, fingers moving until it was too much and you had to stop, sliding slick over your bare stomach as you relaxed back into the bed, butter on a hot day.

The next day, you vowed to ask Steve.

Just half a beer, that’s all it took. A few long drags, a movie that was never started, the tape half in the VCR and Steve’s bedroom lights low. Lingering looks, mussed sheets, anticipation heavy in the air like summer, a growing heat that settled on your skin and it fucking buzzed. It fizzed, it glittered.

“Did you really mean what you said?” You asked out the blue, pulling Steve from the TV set, leaning back on his pillows like you belonged there. “The other night, last week? About how it was a shame that no one had— no had ever… gone down on me.”

Steve stopped, the tape forgotten, his eyes wide as he looked at you over his shoulder. He watched the way your thighs rubbed together under your dress, a thin summery thing, delicate straps and material cut out of the sides, your skin on show between the buttercup yellow cotton. You watched him swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his gaze got a little darker, the words he remembered telling you coming back to him.

“Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.”

Steve cleared his throat, rose up from when he’d been kneeling in front of the television, blurry static crackling, forgotten about. His knees bumped the edge of his bed as stood over you, breath hitching as he took you in, eyes trailing over bare legs and upupup until they settled on your mouth, the way you licked at your bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah,” he croaked, his voice already shot. You looked so pretty. He remembered what you looked like when you came, head thrown back against his shoulder, crying out his name in soft, heaving gasps. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. “Yeah, yeah. I meant it.”

“Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look.”

“Have you been thinkin’ about it?” Steve asked, his voice sweet and soft. He smiled when you nodded, huffing out a breath like it was all too much. “Yeah? Fuck, sweetheart, so have I. Did you get yourself off, did you manage?”

He wanted to be filthier, he wanted to ask dirty, dirty questions. He wanted to know exactly what you thought about when you touched yourself. If you thought about him, if you got as wet as you had with him the week before. He wanted to know if you made the same noises in the quiet of your own room, if you whispered his name when you came.

Instead, Steve moved onto the bed, a little clumsy as the mattress dipped but he stayed by your feet, a hand reaching out to bravely curl around your ankle, your frill lined socks tickling his palm. One tug and he could spread your bent knees open for him, dragging you down his bed until your hair fanned over his pillows and he could push your thighs apart. Steve wondered if you’d let him.

Maybe he could find out.

You nodded, lips parted and already panting, barely able to form words. Steve’s thumb was circling over the skin of your ankle, slowly coasting upwards until his warm palm sat against your calf. He rubbed there too, fingers pushing at your skin like dough, all plush and soft and pliant for him. Your thighs parted, if just a little.

“Every night,” you whispered, eyes closing at his touch, the heated embarrassment creeping over your skin at your confession. You weren’t sure you were supposed to look your best friend in the eye when you told them you’d come on your own fingers, thinking about them. “Couldn’t help it, just- just needed to touch myself.”

You heard the boy groan, low and throaty, his hand climbing higher, laying on his side at your feet so you could feel his warm breath ghost over your shins. You let your legs fall apart again, inch by inch, eyes still closed until your feet slid across the sheets in opposite directions, knees parting. You felt Steve’s lips there, on the inside, at the sensitive skin, a barely there kiss.

“Did you come?”

You swore, breath hitching, nodding as you chewed on your bottom lip, hands coming up to press over your eyes, as if you could hide from him. Mortification was crawling over you, despite how Steve had had his fingers inside of you mere days before, how he’d watched you come, how he had a clear view of your spread thighs and the damp cotton clinging to your cunt, right now.

“Can I make you come again?” The boy sounded wrecked and the question made you open your eyes, gaze stuck on his like honey. “Please.”

You nodded, as if you’d ever say no to that. Like that wasn’t what you wanted.

You expected the boy to launch himself at you then, to grab and pull and kiss and nip. But as heavy as Steve’s gaze was, he moved slow, careful. His hands found your ankles again, one around each leg and he dragged them further apart, his eyes on yours. The static of the TV fizzed and outside the open bedroom window, you heard the Harrington’s sprinklers turn on.

“Lemme see,” Steve whispered, his tone that same sweet rasp as before. He nodded encouragingly when your hands found the hem of your dress, his smile soft, if not a little dirty. His chest was falling and rising faster and faster, his white t-shirt taught over his broad chest and shoulders. “There’s a good girl, fuck, honey.”

You flushed as you did as you were told, the hem of your sundress dragging up your thighs by your own hands. The material was still fisted between your fingers as you held it around your hips, legs spread obscenely, cotton underwear a cherry red, lace trimmed and with an obvious damp spot.

“Can I use my mouth?” Steve asked, murmuring, already moving between your knees, his stomach pressed to the bed. “Wanna taste you properly. Shit, can I do that? Please? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

You whined, high and needy, nodding enthusiastically as you sucked in a breath. “Fuck, can you? Please, Steve, I want that, god, I really want that, haven’t stopped thinking about it, imagining it, shit.”

You swore Steve’s eyes rolled at your words, his hands coming to curl around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, nose pushing at where your hands lay over your stomach, still clutching your dress. He pressed a kiss there, lips grazing over the skin under your navel.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before the boy was bringing his mouth down, open and pushing against your clothed cunt, tongue a hot, wet press over your folds, prodding gently until he found your clit between them. It was an instantaneous reaction, your body seizing up at the unfamiliar touch, an electric sensation, your body a livewire under Steve’s lips. He hushed you softly when you gave a weak cry, pushing at your inner thighs to keep you open for him.

He licked up your cunt, tongue dragging over the cotton, soaking it more and more until the fabric was clinging to the outline of you, until he could tease the tip of his nose over the spread of you, bumping against your clit. The noise your cunt made as he finally pulled your underwear from you was filthy, a wet sound that made his cock kick up in his jeans.

“Feel good?” Steve cooed, voice sticky with affection and awe for you. Your dress was rucked messily over your stomach, one strap sliding off your shoulder as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, bringing your bare cunt closer than before. Each word settled over your slick skin and made you twitch. “Nice, yeah? You gonna tell me, honey? Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel, huh?”

“So good,” you breathed out, voice and words garbled between moans, your hands dropping from your stomach to clutch at the sheets on each side of you. But Steve wasn’t having any of that. He tsked, letting go of your legs only to coax your hands into his hair instead, hissing when you grabbed hard. “Fuck, Steve, please. More, please, feels so good, too good, I can’t, I--”

He wouldn’t have you begging, he wouldn’t dare. Steve wanted to give you everything you wanted, so he wasted no more time, surging forward the mere few inches it took to get his mouth back on you. Steve kissed over your cunt with the enthusiasm of a man who’d been starved of the one thing he wanted most. Lips pressed to you, tongue sneaking out to taste you, gathering up your slick only to press it to your clit. He hummed as you cried for him, eyes squeezing shut as you pulled on his hair, tugging him closer until his tongue was pushing into your entrance and his nose was nudging your clit.

He was shiny with you, mouth and chin wet and slick, eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of his head every time you gave his hair a good yank, your hips lifting to catch his tongue. He groaned, murmuring out pretty phrases like, ‘such a good girl’ and ‘so fuckin’ sweet for me.’

Steve lapped at you until you came, tongue soft but persistent, intent on you making you fall apart with just his mouth, groaning in want as he watched your entrance clench around nothing. He sucked and licked at your clit until you shattered, until you couldn’t take it any longer. Your back arched like last time, head thrown back into the pillows that smelled like him instead of against his shoulder, but Steve decided he liked this view just as much.

The boy tasted like you when you kissed him, half dragging him up your body as you panted, dress still messy around your waist, unabashed in your nakedness. Unlike the time before, Steve was miraculously still hard, desperate and aching under his jeans as he’d tried his best not to rut against the bed as he ate you out. Your palm grazed over his cock, smiled into his kiss when it twitched under your hand, his hips canting into your touch.

You only pulled away from his lips to press him onto the bed, switching your positions. Your dress fell back down, covering your sticky thighs and Steve was ready to protest, until you tucked your fingers around the button of his jeans and popped it open.

He let out a curse, breathing heavily, eyes half lidded and watching you. You quirked a brow, asking a silent question you were pretty sure you knew the answer to - this wasn’t a case of a friend helping a friend, not anymore.

You waited. Steve nodded.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot

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