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#there’s no bite sound you have to watch the animations
fiendishfables · 2 days
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I would love to see this- Lucifer is the strongest entity in Hell, and it turns him on like nothing else when his lover wrestles him for dominance. He will go straight up feral over that.
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Lucifer Morningstar wrestling his S/O for dominance...
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Headcanons + Drabble
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warnings: nsfw, hints at degradation, mentions of blood, biting, scratching, power-dynamics, rough(er) love
words: 806
a/n: I had way too much fun with this- thanks for this lovely, unique ask, I hope I did it justice! It was a bit difficult for my pee brain to come up with things to write, but the people need to be fed; here is your feast
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✡ It's hot, its rough, and it's primal
✡ Ideally, Lucifer never tended to like it when anyone challenged his authority, no matter what over
✡ But if you, his lover, did so, he had the benefits of being able to take you however he pleased after you get the chide out of your system (with consent of course), knowing damn well how much it riles him up
✡ When the two of you wrestle, its almost like two wild animals, fighting for a meal that could very well end up being your last before a harsh winter rolls in
✡ It doesn't take long for his demon form to make an appearance during your steamy game, allowing him a decent advantage over your regular strength capabilities; you often call him out for 'cheating', but seeing him in such a feral state turns you on like nothing else
✡ You can feel him getting hard the first few minutes of your rough-housing, telling you all you need to know about how much he really enjoys doing things like this with you. His deep, guttural groans are hard to ignore, his wings flaring up as they batter your body with feather-light touches
✡ His claws and fangs are really coming out now. His claws are dug deep into your skin, leaving light (yet effective) scratches on your skin, as he watches the blood well up on the line of the cut, proceeding to then lean down and let his forked tongue lick off the excess mess his claws left behind
✡ Bite marks will litter your body, blood complimenting those areas as well. The stinging sensation they leave can not go unnoticed and they only help add to the different emotions you are feeling in the current moment
✡ Having someone to challenge him, both mentally and physically, gets him going; its admirably hot how you continue to protest that you could take him down if you wanted to, and he likes seeing that smug, confident smirk of yours turn to one of pure pleasure and ecstasy as he proves you wrong, over and over again
✡ Knowing he holds the most power possible for a being in any hellish realm, makes it all the more fun when you try and downgrade that title, even if just in the slightest bit; it's your own little game you like to play with one another, a common game of cat and mouse, or rather, Devil and prey
✡ Lucifer is ravaging your body, fully claiming you this time, letting you know that there is no one but himself that can hold this power over you; it reminds you that he will always be in charge one way or another, no matter how much you question
✡ In the long run though, you both love these feral moments in your relationship, getting to express your shared love for one another even in such a strange, somewhat brutal way
✡ He loves fighting for his right to dominate you, and he never fails to claim it.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The heavy panting and notable scent of sweat on the pair of your bodies seemed to go unnoticed, as the two of you were locked in both an intense staring contest, and a physical fight between your bodies; fingers were locked together, arms continually pushing at the other in an attempt to overthrow them. Your bare skin rubs against each other feverishly, his hard cock still buried deep within you from earlier.
"Do you really think you can overpower me in a battle for dominance, darling? I suggest you give in and just let your King take care of you."
His voice was smooth, soothing almost, aside from his heavy breaths filling your ears. He still sounded like an angel to you all the same.
A feral one.
The two of you had been at this now for a good half-n-hour, trying to secure your position as the dominant party in the sheets for the night, but Lucifer had you pinned underneath his own pale body at this point, using the enhanced strength from his demon form to keep you where you were.
The fight for dominance had been over just as soon as it had started; you both knew this from the beginning.
No matter if you were to be above or beneath him, he would always find a way to end out on top of it all, including yourself.
And by all the Gods, if that didn't make him even sexier in your eyes.
You would easily give yourself up to Lucifer whenever he wanted or needed you; there was no doubt about it and you both shared that same knowledge.
But maybe, if this is where challenging him for dominance got you, then you'd have to indulge in the action more often.
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leviathxn · 4 hours
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So I have a request for a Miguel fic, if you are willing to do it. 😊🤗
So...Miguel has a family but he hasn't told the other Spiders. One day he has to take his baby to work to look after him for a while. But then, in his office, bang the Spiders and see Miguel with a baby in his arms/or in a baby carrier. Later Miguel's wife comes in the picture too to take the baby in their universe.
OKAY I LOVE MIGUEL WITH A KID SM
So I know people were asking me for a part 2 on my other one so I’m gonna work on it but obviously it’s these requests firsttt
Thank you all so much for the support 💕
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“”Are you infected??”
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You were typically the one to watch the kids, the double trouble twins. Miguel was a busy man, protecting the spider-verse and all, so you would work from home and play with the twins. It wasn’t so bad, of course Miguel felt bad that he couldn’t have as close of a relationship with them but they still very much knew who their daddy was ((and you did too 😳)). But overall it was a good system and you would get to take things slow at home while being a fun mother.
However, every so often there was days you would need to go into work, very rare but still at least a semiannual occurrence. Sometimes you would even take them into work and they would end up bothering coworkers, but most times you were able to get a family member or close friend to watch them but as they’ve gotten older, spider powers started to shine through. Not only was it hard to control them but it would be too revealing.
Obviously nobody knew Miguel was spider-man, but if two twins started to hang on ceilings, people would eventually put two and two together. This meant you couldn’t leave them with family, resulting in Miguel carrying them around in double baby backpacks. One would be on his chest, the other in him back.
Miguel, in typical fashion, stayed in his office. Nobody assumed anything by his yelling, the man was weird, what would be surprising if he was schizo? Although every now and then people would look at each other, it didn’t sound like typical frustration or talking to himself, it was almost a back and forth. They were in no way heavy, but oh my, they were annoying. How did you get a grip on these two? They’re animals. Halfway through the day, the twins got out of the carriers and there was no going back.
“Put that down! Ay- I’m sorry don’t cry- HEY”. Miguel was struggling, because he loved the kids and he felt so bad for yelling but they wouldn’t listen. He thought to himself about the teens. You’d think as they get older they’d be better, but he saw himself comparing them to his 1 year old twins.
Disgusted at the thought, he grabbed them and webbed their hands. They giggled, struggling to get it off. It was a good distraction….. for like 3 minutes, then they were back to running around. He tried playing fetch with the twins but that didn’t go very well. They were just.. confused. Why did he throw the toy the just got. Although he appreciated their thinking skills, he really had no idea what to do. He held both of his kids, they hung from his arms and were climbing around him like a jungle gym.
Completely lost in thought about his children dilemma, the doors to his office opened, and the lovely teen band walked in. What a sight for them to see. Miguel standing completely disheveled and staring into space, a kid on his shoulder grabbing his ear, and another kid gorilla hugging his ((massive)) leg and trying to bite the suit.
Panic bells went off, everybody rushing over to Miguel. Was this an attack, was Miguel okay? Oh my gosh he’s being attacked by alien morphing baby things. As they all got ready to ready for the babies, Miguel jumped back, making sure to grab hold of his kids, and getting defensive.
“What the hell is your guys problem?!!” He shouted, sheltering both of his kids, who were now on high alert and looking fearful.
“Are those Aliena??? What happened to you, what did they do?? Why do you look like that!” Miles replied back to him, pointing his fingers at both babies. “Are you infected??”
Hobie, naturally didn’t look concerned, and stop back. “Mate, they look just like him”
“They bit him and took his DNA!! That’s why he’s protecting him”, Pavitr shouted while getting in an offensive position. Hobie almost lost is as he hurled over. Gwen looked over for a moment, then back to Miguel. “Wait… those are your kids”
“WHAT”. Miles and Pavitr shouted, looking at the very tired Miguel. “By that doesn’t make sense- you’re not- are you married??”. Questions flew right and left, chaos ensued as the babies ran around again. Miguel was done, SO DONE with babysitting the actual babies and now the teens.
Suddenly the door opened again, a very sweaty you running through. “Oh Miggy- I’m sorry I’m late I just got so lost in this place, but I’m here for the twins”. Miguel looked over at you in panic, the teen’s immediately stopped in their tracks. As the kids ran to you, so did the teens…. and what was supposed to be Miguel’s saving grace, ended up in having everybody over for dinner.
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Ahh I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you asked for, I traveled today to see a college and I’m writing this very late so I hope you don’t mind that it’s rushed. I’ll get more writing done this week since I’m on break, I promise!
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hauntingblue · 2 days
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I have connected two dots... yamato kaido and momo (and kinda shirahoshi with her top) have clouds above their shoulders... and luffy in gear fourth has them also.... I can see the signs
#momo must be so emotionally confused omg poor child. this guy says he is my father and treats me like his son and also this samurai who has#been acting like my father just died. and now i turned 28 and a dragon and i need to save this island or my shougnate will die. jesus#FUCKING ROB RUCCI!!! I SURE HOPE NOT ONE STRAY ATTACK REACHES THE ROOM FULL OF CP0 AGENTS!!!#now the government is going to invade wano AND TAKE ROBIN!!!!! ROB LUCCI DIEEEE!!!!! AND YOU WILL FAIL AGAIN!!!#now how tf did the heart pirates get there... who can fly on there or did they just tag along on momos tail#the dinosaur head snake???? hello?? qjdhakshsk and it worked.... sanji... 'thats what a brachiosaurus is!' well i do not think so....#wtf sanji.... so much of that wiggly dance he does with the heart eyes has brought him here...#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 1053#poor killer man.... why doesnt he cut off the arm kid doesnt have... that should do it right???#jesus.... goodbye kid and law.... hawkins just hitting his head to a wall.... CUT OFF HIS ARM!!! oh no..... another self sacrificing mate..#YEAAHHH THE ARM!!!!! is he gonna take it and give it to kid akdjsksj OH HE TOOK THE STRAW DOLL!!! killer your brain is so huge..#the death card looking JUST like killer.... that was such a slay... they had this one thought out for a while.....#THE MUSIC!!! GOODBYE HAWKINS!!! KILLER OUTSERVED!!!! whats with the cutting of arms this arc.... kid now its your turn to slay (big mom)#episode 1054#sanji having an existential crisis and queen just: WELCOME TO THIS MOMSTER WORLD#having issues with his body transforming doesnt help with the transfem allegations#APOO IS STILL ALIVE???? CUT OFF HIS HEAD!!!!#i was gonna say KINEMON!!! BUT I KNOW ITS THAT FUCKING KANJURO!!!!!! nami drawing the moon on his asscheek akdjsksj#KIKU AND KINEMON ARE ALIVE??? I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS THIS IS A TRAP!!! DON'T GIVE ME HOPE!!!#NOOOOOO THE CP0 IS IN ACTION TOO NOOOOOOOOO#they are breathing.... omg.... kiku..... ORICHI DIEEEE!!!!! i knew this couldn't end like this for her... i have been completely bamboozled#kinemon appearing like the first time... just legs.... amazing#how does big mom ikoku inside the castle are we insane... yamato can you like bite off kanjuros head off or smth... finish him off PLEASE#why do they have steel beams in kaido's castle. everything else is wood and stone. who designed this.#bepo being in law's mid episode animation akdjaksns.... thats really his beffo (bff) bepo#big mom being crushed by some beams doesn't sound right... kid should turn into magneto and start bloodbending... or repel her into the sea#episode 1055#episode 1056
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piningprecussionist · 1 month
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Kim you a Kamen Rider fan
Uh, no? Don't think so.
Name sounds vaguely familiar... one of the other clowns around here might be acquainted with it.
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I didn't really watch too much TV as a young kid? I liked to mess around with my kit or go fuck around in the forests, for the most part. I started watching stuff more in highschool and college.
Some stuff I enjoy, or enjoyed, off the top of my head- Batman: The Animated Series, Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Buffy the Vampire Slayer... There are definitely more things that I watched, but I'm not sure what all I really stand by enjoying... sometimes, you just watch something because it's so weird it fascinates you, ya know?
#ooc: name sounded familiar so i went to look it up. kinda get the impression that it's probably not something she watched- partially due to+#+ runtime/reception i think. unless i misread something#ooc: LOOKING UP SHOWS THOUGH I MIGHT BE GOING A LITTLE UNHINGED... SOOO MANY THINGS I WANT TO GIVE HER...#ooc: I DONT CARE IF ANY OF THESE MAKE SENSE ACTUALLY IM GIVING HER MY MEDIA TASTES THEY KINDA ALIGN. FUCKING. BITE ME.#((ooc: the last comment is about Dinosaurs. if you are unfamiliar. look it up and then stare at the costumes for a minute syckdhdkhfjfh))#(ooc: fun pine facts! my family has that series as a DVD set and has for Many Years now- so that IS a show i watched as a kid actually)#(ooc: i did also watch buffy- though i only watched B:TAS more recently)#(ooc: someone has a hc in the discord that scott went to college to be a cartoonist- so her watching it is partly just i see no reason she#+cant be into animation and partly maybe Scott could've watched it? ik he's more of a marvel guy but the animation is good- he could have +#+ watched it just for that! and kim would have indulged him and actually come to quite like the characters maybe)#(ooc: also i love are you afraid of the dark... i havent seen very much of it but i own one of the dvd sets and i was OBSESSED as a kid. +#+ loved it more than goosebumps but i could never find any more CDs :( so if anyone knows where i can watch it online--)#(ooc: also! i havent watched it so idk if Kim would- but Sabrina the Teenage Witch. thoughts?)#ooc: also she watches Futurama because I fucking said so. i take no criticism.#ooc: it we want more things i could see her watching maybe ask abt specific ones! i could give her thoughts on them maybe#ooc: use them as an excuse to rewatch some stuff maybe xycifkchfbf#pine.txt#asks#rp#kim pine#sp comic#spvtwtg#spto#spvtw#janstaratthedisco#not in standard continuity#?
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scaredofmyocs · 5 months
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Man who put these thoughts in here I thought I threw these in the garbage
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fairyreblogs · 2 years
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Every year I have a day where I’m laying in bed and then I remember that time when someone assumed I use fae/faer pronouns because I use the name Fairy. Like no shade to fae/faer pronouns but I don’t. But could you imagine meeting someone and their name is fairy and their pronouns are also fae/faer. But then you talk to them and they genuinely hate the shit out of faeries.
#I guess this is also something I didn’t make clear: I have never once had any interest in fairies#when I see the word fairy I see it as my name and not the creature#I don’t associate my name with the fae folk#I’ve literally been using Fairy as a name for 9 years#and. it’s so stupid. like I should change my user stupid#but I came up with fairy because of the anime Fairy Tail#and then I came up w this username and then I immediately stopped watching the anime#and then my brain thought fairyScorpicus was too cool to change#and then it became a real name I get called. but I was never into fairies#i like elves if that helps. and the gnome mushroom aesthetic.#but fairies fae folk hobgoblins and etc? I genuine dislike them. like. I don’t like them#I’m not even neutral. I like the concept but then as soon as I think about them for longer than one second I don’t like them#me when weird little monsters that want to steal your name and bite you and steal your children exist: hmm. sounds nightmarish#my mom had this book that she’d show off to us#it was a pop up book but LARGE and DETAILED#and it was all about every type of magic creature in mythology#and there was NOTHING but stories about children being kidnapped and eaten and getting lost in the woods#it never induced any nightmares but I fucking HATE faeries#anyway. so having my name be fairy is kinda stupid but I’m attached to it because I love the friends who came up with it#me joining internet for first time: hello I am fairyScorpicus. you may call me FS. or fairyScorpicus#Internet: hiya fairy#me: 😳 do that again
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rowarn · 6 months
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MONSTER (m.)
neighbor!simon riley x reader
tags: zombie apocalypse au, neighbors to lovers, afab!reader, no pronouns, hurt/comfort, smut, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH
cw: description of corpses, simon is aggressive towards you, but also very soft!simon, protective!simon, violence, simon does murder someone, lots of kissing, wet&messy sex, multiple orgasms, edging (simon), missionary position, mating press, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, breast play, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names, eye contact, praise, teeny bit talkin u thru it
note: i think that's all the neccessary warnings but if u think smthn else should be added, let me know. please enjoy this MONSTER fic!!!
; you find yourself hiding out in your apartment as the undead begin walking. luckily, you have a well-trained military operative as a neighbor who is more than willing to keep you safe.
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“Residents are advised to remain in their homes. Authorities are unsure what is causing the severe aggression in people but the military has been called in nationwide. Please stay tuned as more information becomes available.” 
That was the first news broadcast. They reported  people getting sick-- airborne is what they had said. Stay inside, and stay away from other people. 
So you did just that – stayed hidden away in your apartment, glued to your television for every possible news cast that you could get. 
It was only a week later that the whole story had come out. 
The airborne strain is what caused the first swell of infections. Anyone who was susceptible to the infection would have already become sick by now. But those who were infected by the airborne strain turned…feral. They became like wild animals, barely human. Their skin rotted around them while they were still alive. Their brains died but their hearts remained pumping. They were walking corpses that had a vicious hunger for human flesh. 
The bites are what caused the following wave of infections. Something in their saliva turned you into whatever they were. 
You were scared. When you looked outside your window, down just a few floors to the ground, you could see hordes of people stumbling around, shuffling and shambling. 
Sometimes you would hide in your bathroom as the sounds of gunfire filled the city. It was the worst when it was the middle of the night. 
You weren’t equipped to deal with a disaster of this level – humans turning into disease spreading killers. You were having to ration your food, waiting for the day that there would be an announcement that it was safe. 
You wanted it all to be over. 
Then the news broadcasts stopped, cell service dropped, and the populace was left in the dark. 
You kept the lights off in your apartment, scared that the wandering hordes outside would see it and find you.
You had no idea how long you had been hiding in your apartment, spending most nights with your knees to your chest as you watched the static on the TV. You held out hope that the news broadcast would come back, but it never did. You spent the days and nights in mundane monotony, hopelessness settling in. 
The only interruption was a heavy knock on your front door, practically making you jump out of your skin at the sound of it. You hadn’t expected anyone to actually approach your apartment in search of you. It terrified you that anyone could be out there at a time like this.
With wide eyes and trembling hands, you grabbed a kitchen knife off of your counter and tiptoed towards the front door. Peeking through the peep-hole, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. 
Throwing the door open, you were faced with the familiar balaclava of your neighbor across the hall.
“Simon…” you whispered in relief. 
He wasn’t lunging nor did he have the milky-white eyes of the undead that you had seen on the news. He was normal. 
“What’re you planning to do with that?” he asked, eyeing the kitchen knife still in your hand.
“Oh!” you gasped, quickly placing it on the table by your front door, “Sorry, you– you– startled me when you knocked. Would you like to come in?”
His lidded, brown eyes gaze around your apartment behind you before landing on you again, “You have anyone else in there?”
You blink and slowly shake your head, “No, I’m alone.”
His brows furrow at that, “You’ve been by yourself this whole time?”
You shrug and nod, “What else was I supposed to do? The news reports said to stay inside…”
He hums, “Are you sick?”
“No, I’m fine,” you respond quickly, “Why?”
Suddenly there’s a hand on your forehead and you realize he’s checking your temperature. You remain still and allow him to do it before he's shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. 
“Fever’s the first symptom,” he explains, “I’m goin’ door to door to check on everyone.”
“Oh!” you gasp, smiling, “That’s very nice of you, Simon.”
You knew that Simon was in the military. He was often out on long deployments and sometimes he had tasked you with keeping an eye on his apartment since you were right across the hall from him.
He was a nice enough guy, if not a little cold and blunt. He was tall and broad, clearly well built despite the fact that he usually wore a hoodie that hid his biceps from view. You’d gotten glimpses of his tattoos when you had knocked on his door one evening and asked him if he knew anything about water heaters because your hot water had been out for nearly a month in the dead of winter and the apartment manager hadn’t done anything to help you.
Simon had kindly come to your apartment, even though it was nearing midnight, rolled his sleeves up and fixed your problem within the hour. You had baked him cookies as a thank you that following weekend. 
“How is everyone doing..?” you venture to ask, leaning against the doorjamb as a breeze flows into your apartment from the open door.
He casts a glance down the hallway, almost like he’s thinking before sighing, “Few people are sick. They’ve been…” he hesitates for a moment, “Quarantined.”
“Probably for the best,” you respond, “Keep them from hurting anyone when they…turn.”
It feels so surreal to be talking about confining people to keep them from literally eating the healthy people. But it seems that’s where you’re all at now. 
“I’m going to barricade our floor,” he says suddenly, “Keep anyone from comin’ in that’s not supposed to come in.”
“What if we need to leave?” you ask, concerned, “We’re only going to have finite food and resources between us. The power’s also going to go out sooner rather than later, Simon.”
“I know,” he sighs, “But we should stay indoors for as long as possible. When the power runs out and we run out of supplies, we can figure out what to do next,” he explains, “The military was on the ground here last I heard, you’ve heard the gunshots. I don’t believe they’ll last much longer but it’s not wise for us to go out while they’re tryin’ to eliminate as many of these…undead as they can.”
“I guess that makes sense…” you whisper before his words finally settle on you, “What do you mean you don’t think they’ll last much longer..?”
He levels a hard stare at you that makes your heart race in anxiety. Simon was always a serious individual by nature but this is how you imagine he looks when he’s on duty, “Hundreds of thousands of people are sick out there. The airborne strain no doubt got to hundreds of the soldiers meant to be protecting the civilians. Eventually, they’ll eat each other from the inside out –literally.”
“You mean even the military is going to collapse..?” you ask, horrified. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes but Simon’s words fill you with a dreadful sense of hopelessness. 
“Communications are cut,” he says finally, “Radio’s been silent all day. Not sure what’s goin’ on but it’s not good.”
The tears quickly began to fall down your cheeks. Before you could wipe them away, a calloused thumb was doing it. You sniffled and looked up at him.
“I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you confessed softly, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive, Simon.”
“Don’t you worry about that, love,” he whispered, grabbing your chin gently to make you look up at him, “I’ll take care of you, yeah?”
“I don’t want to be a burden…” you explain, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. 
“Wouldn’t be the first time I took care of you,” he joked, though it held little humor, “You won’t be a burden. I’ll teach you what you need to know, alright?”
“You will?” he nods when you look up at him hopefully and you smile, “Thank you, Simon. I don’t really want to die by getting eaten by walking corpses.”
He chuckled under his mask, brown eyes crinkling around the edges a bit, “It is pretty fuckin’ mad, isn’t it?” You laugh, the first genuine smile you’ve cracked since before that first news broadcast, “Why don’t you come across the hall and stay with me, yeah?”
“Is that okay..?” You can’t deny the idea of being with company sounded more appealing than anything. You were definitely beginning to feel the ebbs of loneliness creeping in on you as the days of silence passed. Plus, Simon was…safe, “The news said not to…mingle in case of the disease spreading.”
He scoffed, “Rules like that don’t really apply anymore, love,” he mutters softly, “Plus, neither of us is sick so it’s not like we’ll spread it anyway. I can teach you some knife work and how to use a gun easier if we’re together, yeah?”
“Okay,” you smile, excitement surging in your chest, replacing the painful void of hopelessness you had, “Let me just get some things together and I’ll be right over, okay?”
“Sounds good, love,” you can tell he’s smiling under the mask. He gives you a pat on the shoulder before stepping away, “Just knock when you’re ready.”
You stand in your doorway until he disappears into his apartment. Once you’re alone, you cast a cursory glance around your living room, eyeballing everything you need to take before you dash into your bedroom. From the back of your closet, you grab a duffle bag that you have stowed away in the back of your closet from when you first moved in.
Navigating in the dark of your apartment was a bit of a challenge but you managed to stuff all the essentials into the bag. After slinging it over your shoulder, you step out of your apartment, making sure it was locked before knocking on Simon’s door. 
He opened it quickly, still wearing the same hoodie, jeans, and balaclava as before – his hood still up as well. He stepped aside for you to enter.
Unlike you, his apartment was illuminated by lamps – but his windows were covered with blackout curtains so no light would seep outside. It was pretty plainly decorated, just the essentials and a few photographs on the walls; upon closer inspection it looked like him and, you assumed, his comrades. 
You went to place your bag down but he stopped you, “I cleared out a drawer for you to put your clothes in for the time bein’.”
“Oh…” you gaped at him, surprised to hear that he had done something like that for you, “Thank you, Simon.”
He led you to his bedroom, standing in the hallway while you walked in. His bedroom was darkly decorated, black out curtains on the windows, navy blue sheets and a black comforter on his bed. His furniture was all dark toned as well. 
It suited him, you thought.
There were two drawers open and empty, letting you know that those were yours for the taking. You knelt down and opened your duffle bag, carefully folding and placing your items inside. When you got to your undergarments, you cast a glance towards the door to find that he was no longer standing there. Breathing a sigh of relief, you quickly filled the top drawer with all of your delicates before closing the drawers and standing up. 
Flicking on the light to his en suite bathroom, you placed your toothbrush and toothpaste alongside his, the sight making you blush before you went to add your belongings into the shower as well. 
Realistically, you knew that the water was going to go out sooner or later but you planned to enjoy it for as long as you possibly could until then. 
When you ventured into the living room, Simon was in the kitchen, the cabinets open as he scanned over all of his belongings.
“Is something wrong..?” you asked softly.
“Thinkin’ of how to ration,” he replied quickly, “Have you got any stuff over at yours still?”
You nod your head, “It’s not much but I have some canned food and like...rice and stuff if you want that.”
“Yeah, it’ll be good to consolidate all our supplies in the long run,” he explained, “You got your keys?”
“Yes!” you pull your keyring from your pocket and drop it into his open palm.
“I’ll be right back love, make yourself at home,” he gave you a gentle nudge towards the couch before leaving you there. 
You took a seat on the couch, realizing just how tired you were. You hadn’t realized how tense you’re been for so long on your own. Now that you were safe and with company, you could almost feel the tension sliding right off of you. You rested your head against the back of the couch and closed your eyes, intending to just rest your eyes and enjoy the peace you felt. 
You were startled awake by the sound of the door slamming shut. You nearly jumped out of your skin, wide eyes finding Simon’s who looked a little sheepish.
“Sorry, love,” he whispered, “Didn’t realize you’d be sleepin’.”
“Didn’t mean to…” you confess, standing up and stretching, watching Simon lug a bag of food into the kitchen.
“Haven’t been sleepin’ well?” he asked, his back to you as he began to stock up the cabinets. 
“Not really…” with a sigh, you lean back against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest, “I’ve been stressed about this whole situation.”
“It is…” he pauses in his words, placing a bag of dried beans into the cabinet, “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“Society is really collapsing around us, isn’t it?” you bravely ask, although you were scared to hear the answer.
“Yeah, darlin’,” his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it and that brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.
“This is so fucked up,” you cry, burying your face in your hands, “Thank you, Simon. You didn’t have to offer to help me and I really owe you a lot.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he closes the cabinet, the bag he brought finally empty before turning to you, “I’ll make sure you know everything you need to know to survive.”
“I doubt I’ll be as good as you,” you joke, a crooked, wobbly smile on your face. 
He steps forward and cups your chin, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “No one’s as good as me, sweetheart.”
You chuckle softly at his words. 
This is what you needed – someone by your side to keep you sane as society collapsed and everyone that you knew died. 
That night, you slept better than you had in days. Simon had given you his bed, offering to take the couch. You had argued, telling him that you couldn’t take his bed like that. 
“I’m up most nights anyway, love,” he had assured you, “At least someone around here can get a good night’s sleep in that bed.”
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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.
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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. 
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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.
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“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. 
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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.
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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.
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honey-on-your-tongue · 7 months
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Stepdad! Miguel O'Hara. Always trying not to see you for the pretty princesa he's been fucking for months, even before he married your mom. Trying to stop the onslaught of lust and animalistic urge that overcomes him whenever you're around.
He finds himself failing when, late one night, he's making his way to the kitchen when he hears the familiar sound of your moans and whimpers. Unable to help himself, he wanders toward your bedroom, surprised to find your door slightly ajar.
The scent of your arousal is thick, making his mouth water and his cock spring to attention. He peeks into your bedroom, delighted when he finds you spread on the bed, fingers stuffed into your soaked cunt.
You writhe and whine, breath heavy. He can hear your pussy squelching in the little breaks between your sounds. He reaches for himself, adjusting his cock and trying to push away the desire.
But then you have to go and moan, “Miguel! Miguel, please!”
He loses it. He's just about seeing red as he bursts into your room, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.
You jump, embarrassed, and he's on you almost instantly, in you within mere minutes.
As he slides into you, you moan, body shuddering beneath him.
“Yes, princesa,” he groans, holding your thighs spread wide, his eyes dark with lust as he watches himself pump into you. “Oh, fuck, I missed this pretty little pussy.”
You whimper, hands rolling into fists around the bed sheets, eyes fluttering shut. “Miguel!” you gasp, and he goes harder, faster, deeper. You swear you can feel him almost quite literally rearranging your guts.
He leans over you, pulling your legs over his shoulders and fucking you impossibly rougher. He holds onto the bed frame, your bed squeaking with every hard, borderline painful thrust. But it feels so good. It's just too good for you to want to stop.
He bites your neck, your shoulder, kisses your lips until they're swollen. He fucks you like an animal starved, going round after round even when you're on the verge of passing out.
And then he gives you one final orgasm before finishing himself, filling you up with his thick, hot load.
The next day, at breakfast, your mom sees the hickeys across your neck. “What's that?!” she gasps.
You exchange looks with Miguel who, much to your surprise, looks absolutely innocent—which he should definitely not.
This ends with you getting grounded, never mind the fact that you're twenty-two already.
Your mom leaves later to go grocery shopping and for a coffee with friends.
Miguel takes care of ensuring you learn your lesson.
Bent over the tabletop, pussy raw and soaked. You take pounding after pounding, his seed spilling into you again and again until you're seeing stars.
He tugs at your hair, forcing your back to arch. “You better make damn sure no one ever knows about any of this,” he warns. “Otherwise, I'll have to punish you, not only discipline you. And you don't want that, do you, princesa?”
Well. Honestly? Yes. You'd absolutely love it.
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evansbby · 2 months
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𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✨🎀
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Pairing: quarterback!Ari Levinson x naive!Reader
Summary: You have to do what daddy says, no matter how depraved it may be.
Warnings: smutt, dd/lg vibes, daddy kink, phone sex, riding of stuffed animals, dirty talk, Ari being depraved, Ari being a cocky asshole, innocence kink.
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“But Ari, I’ve never sent nudes before.”
You bite your lip, moving your phone from one ear to the other. It was 2am, and you’re usually never awake this late. But you’d been working on a paper that was due tomorrow morning, and then Ari had called you.
Which was crazy. You didn’t even know Ari had your number. He was a senior and you were only a freshman and it was insane that he wanted to talk to you! You’d only ever met him once at a party last week, where he’d flirted with you sporadically throughout the night. You didn’t think much of it at the time, since he’d been flirting with a bunch of other girls too.
“Just lift your shirt up and send me a picture, sweetheart.” Ari insists, sounding smug on the other end of the line. “Maybe play with your tits a bit? Fuck, you have such nice tits.”
“Y-You think so?”
“Yeah, baby. I can’t stop staring at them whenever I see you in person.”
“Oh. Thanks!” You know you shouldn’t be happy with such a shallow compliment, but the fact that he’s interested in you is giving you butterflies. He was older than you, and he was the captain of the football team and the most popular guy on campus. You were, of course, none of those things.
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.” There’s a slight edge to his tone.
You inhale deeply, opening your camera and lifting your top up. You’re not wearing a bra and your nipples are already hard from Ari’s smooth-talking and his gravelly voice. You snap a quick picture before sending it to him.
A pause.
“Fuck, you are so hot.”
“Thank you!” You glow at the praise. But then your eye catches the clock on your nightstand, “ooh, Ari, it’s getting late! I need to sleep now.”
“No.” Ari commands. “Let’s talk on FaceTime.”
“But I’m only in my PJs!” (They were babyish pyjamas too, nothing sexy at all.)
He ignores you, cutting the call and then calling you again through FaceTime. You accept it, gasping because he was shirtless on his bed. You’d never seen him shirtless before! His chest and torso were so muscular and hairy—but it made him look so manly that you couldn’t help but feel sparks run down your spine.
“Cute PJs.” He snorts.
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything sexier.”
“Don’t worry, baby. But maybe you should just take your top off completely, hm?”
“Oh, uh… I don’t know about that, Ari.”
“I’m not wearing a shirt, am I? So it’s only fair if you don’t wear one either.” He gives you a charming smile and you feel your insides turn to goo. Oh, you had the biggest crush on him! You can already feel every cell in your body itching to do exactly what he’s asked you to.
You shrug your top off, trying only to focus on Ari and how his eyes widen, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his unruly brown hair. His other hand is out of frame, and you can’t see what he’s doing with it.
“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy, baby, showing off your hot, tight little body to me, huh?”
“I—I…uh… y-yeah, I guess—”
“Move up and down for me a bit, I wanna see your tits bounce. Mm, just like that, sweetie. Fuck, you love listening to me, don’t you?”
You watch in awe as he spits down into the palm of his hand, and now you can guess what his hand is doing and it makes your eyes widen but your core pulses with lust too.
“Look how hard your nipples are, baby. Touch ‘em for me. Play with them like a little slut, like how all the pornstars and slutty cam-girls do it. Like you’re being paid to do it, fuck! Goddamn, you’re so hot.”
He pans his camera downwards for a split second, and you gasp when you see his huge cock in his hand. He’s pumping it steadily, and it looks so big and fat and red and—
“B-But Ari, I’ve never watched porn before so I don’t know how a pornstar does it.” You blurt out.
A pause.
“Mm, you’re a real good girl aren’t you?” Ari chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair again. He’s still pumping his dick, but more leisurely now, like a wolf who knows he has all night to play with his prey.
You shrug awkwardly, “I guess I am.”
“So tell me, how does a good girl like you like to be fucked?”
“Wh-What?!”
Ari snorts, “C’mon, sweetheart. You and I both know I’m gonna fuck you real soon. So I need to know how you like it. All sweet and slow? Because I can do that shit. Or are you a real freak in the sheets, and want me to shove your face against a pillow and take you hard and fast on your hands and knees?”
Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly feel so shy because how is he talking about such graphic things so easily???
“Mm, you like the sound of that second option huh?” Ari says, and now he sounds slightly breathless. His face is shiny with a layer of sheen, and his hair is falling over his face as he pumps his dick and his eyes look all over your topless form like he’s ravenous. “The innocent ones are always the freaky ones.”
“I’m not freaky!”
“So you don’t want me to fuck you doggy style with my hand round your throat like you’re wearing a goddamn collar, huh baby?” His voice sounds rough, gravelly, so infinitely turned on. And it’s crazy how quickly he switches back and forth from that to his casual, charming tone.
“Bet your little baby pussy is clenching right now, isn’t it baby? And I bet you’ve made a mess all over your bed because you’re so turned on.”
You glance down guiltily, hating how he’s right. There’s a huge wet stain on your sheets underneath you. You hadn’t realised just how wet you were because of all this. You bow your head and Ari smirks knowingly.
“Virgins get the wettest. And you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Your eyes widen even more and you nod. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did he know?!
“That’s what I thought.” Ari lets out a low groan, jacking off even faster. “Now listen, I want you to practice for when I fuck you.”
“Practice?”
“Yes, baby. I need to teach you so many things. But first tell me, do you have a stuffed animal in your room?”
Your face lights up, “Sure I do! This is Fluffy!” You grab your stuffed lamb and wave it in front of your camera.
“Give Fluffy a kiss.” Ari orders you darkly, his tone switching to more serious.
“Huh?”
“You heard me. Give your toy a kiss.” His normally blue eyes are now almost black, his pupils are so blown out with lust. And his order is kind of weird but you feel your pussy clench and leak some more, and you know you’re turned on by how authoritative he’s being.
You obey, pecking the stuffed lamb quickly. You feel embarrassed but you’re also feeling extremely submissive. And obeying him is turning you on so much.
“Not like that, baby. Make out with Fluffy properly. Like you would if it was me.” Ari says, and you look at him in shock only to see him smirking lazily back at you. His dick is throbbing against his hairy abs and he’s once again lazily stroking himself as he watches you intently. “Use your tongue.”
It’s by far the weirdest thing you’ve ever done. You scrunch your eyes shut and try to imagine your stuffie is Ari. And it’s not like you haven’t done it before — because you’ve practiced kissing on your stuffies in the past. But never in front of an audience, let alone a ravenous looking jock who’s jacking off while watching your every move intently.
“Mm, just like that. You like kissing Fluffy, huh?” He asks you darkly, and you can hear the steady thwapping sound of him pumping his dick.
“Uh. Not really, it’s kind of wei—”
“Use your tongue more,” he cuts you off, “get your little toy nice and wet, baby. Mm, just like that. Daddy loves it when you do it like that.”
You gape at him, “d-daddy?”
Ari smirks, “yeah. That’s what you’re gonna call me from now on. Got it?”
You gulp, “I didn’t know that was a thing.”
He licks his lips, “of course you didn’t know, you’re just a baby. But guys love it when girls call them daddy. It just means I’m in charge of you and that I’ll take care of you. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
You mull over his words. That did sound nice, and the idea of calling him daddy was kinda making you feel all hot and bothered down there…
“Try it.” Ari suggests, “Say that you’re just a little baby who needs her daddy to tell her what to do.”
You bite your lip, “uh—okay. I-I’m just a little baby and I need my… my daddy to tell me what to do.” You pause and beam, looking at him through your phone screen proudly, “how was that?”
He nods approvingly, “you’re a natural, baby. Now why don’t you put Fluffy between your legs so he can kiss your other lips?”
Your jaw drops, and yet you feel yourself clench at his words, “What??”
“Come on, sweetheart. Do it for daddy. I’m not here to give you your special kissies down there, which means Fluffy has to do it, right?”
“Special k-kissies?”
“That’s right. Little baby girls like you need their special kissies or else you’ll disappoint your daddy.”
You glance down at your pyjama shorts which are soaking wet. Despite you feeling awkward, you also felt immensely turned on by each word that came out of his mouth. How he was ordering you to do these depraved things… How he was talking to you all condescendingly like you were a baby… Oh, you didn’t want to disappoint him!
Slowly, you spread your legs and press Fluffy down against your clothed mound. You make sure to pan your phone downwards so Ari can see, and he groans appreciatively. His thumb strokes the head of his dick before he moves his hand up and down, now leisurely stroking himself as if he wants to savour these next few moments.
“That’s right, hump your sexy little baby pussy against your toy. Doesn’t that feel so sexy, baby?”
You nod, “feels good, Ari—I mean daddy. It feels good.”
“Damn right it does, daddy always knows what’s best for my little baby.” He runs his hand through his already dishevelled hair. His cheeks are flushed and he’s got a dark, determined look on his face as he continues to jack off, his eyes glued on you.
“Ride your little stuffie just like that,” he murmurs, “get that pretty baby pussy all wet and slippery and worked up, ready for my daddy dick. How’s that sound, princess? You ready for daddy’s dick?”
You bite your lip again, this time in pleasure as you continue to rub your pussy against the stuffie, “I think so. But you’re so big…”
That makes him smile, and he pans his camera down again to show you his fat, angry red cock. He’s got a huge vein running down it, and you get the sudden urge to lick it. God, he was so big! And thick too! You feel giddy and scared at the thought that he might actually be your first…
“H-How many girls have you slept with, daddy?” you ask shyly.
“Only a few,” he snorts, his tone vague before the glint in his eye returns. “I think I’ll only be able to fit my big dick halfway through your tiny snatch.” He says, “What do you think, baby?”
You nod, “I agree, you’re—uh— super big, daddy.”
“Mmhm, but you’d love it even more if I held you down and forced my fat cock inside your baby cunt till I’m all the way in, so deep you can feel me in your fucking womb, wouldn’t you?” he lets out a string of curse words as he pumps himself, “Tell me you’d like that.”
“I would!” You cry, feeling like you’re so, so close to cumming, “d-daddy, I—”
“Shhh, baby girl. Daddy knows,” Ari’s watching you like a hawk as your movements grow more and more desperate, your hips rutting against your poor stuffed lamb. “Put your phone up against your pillow or something, so I can watch you ride your toy properly.”
You do as he asks, no questions asked. And it’s times like this where you feel extremely lucky that you don’t have a roommate. And you hope Ari doesn’t either.
“Yeah, just like that. Get your toy all wet, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Ari spits down on his palm before resuming to pump his cock, “bet you wish it was daddy underneath you like that, don’t you? Bet you wish I was eating your cunt just like that.”
You fist the sheets, trying not to look at your stuffie as you straddle it, humping it like a wanton whore.
“Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A few strands of his brown hair flip over his forehead, and he pushes them back impatiently, “Riding your daddy’s tongue, rubbing your baby cunt all over my face while you hold your little stuffed animal and cry like a baby ‘cause it’s too much for a little girl like you to handle.”
“Oh, I’d really like that!” you cry out, the pleasure within you mounting as you continue to breathlessly rub against your stuffie. You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, but he’s painting such a vivid, hot picture with his words that you can’t help but agree. “W-Wanna ride you so bad, daddy. Would be so much – ah! – so much better than Fluffy!”
Ari smirks, “Damn right, it would. And tell me how you’d dress up for me, baby.”
“Would wear anything you want me to!”
“Yeah? What about a pretty pink princess dress? You’d wear that for daddy?”
“Y-Yeah!”
“A cute and flouncy one, where your cute little ass pokes out every time you bend over in it,” he grunts, leaning forward as his pumping gets faster, “Your bare ass just begging for a hard slap – fuck! Tell me you’d like that!”
“I’d love it!” you agree quickly, your whole body on fire just from his words. But then, despite everything, a thought occurs to you, “B-But, daddy. I don’t have a flouncy pink dress like that.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll buy you one.” Ari promises. “But first, you need to take your shorts off for me.”
You don’t even object this time. The fabric of your pyjama shorts is all wet and sticky against your pussy, so you quickly discard them before resuming what you’re doing. And you can’t help but throw your head back and moan embarrassingly loudly, because the stuffie’s fur catching against your bare clit feels heavenly. You circle your hips against Fluffy with renowned vigour, all while Ari watches you closely with carnal eyes.
“Show me your ass,” he orders you softly, and yet there’s a note of authority in his tone, “show daddy your cute little baby ass, sweetheart.”
You grab your phone, scrunching your eyes shut as you twist awkwardly, pointing it to your ass. But your heart skips a beat when Ari groans in appreciation.
“Fuck, you’ve got such a cute little butt, princess,” Ari murmurs, his gaze on you intense. “I bet it jiggles all cutely when you slap it, huh?”
“I – ah! – I dunno…”
His dark eyes flash, “Slap your ass for me, princess.”
Oh gosh, how embarrassing! You hesitate, “I…I…”
“Do it. Do what daddy tells you,” Ari runs his tongue over his lips, “I’m in charge and I know what’s best for you, sweetheart. Don’t disappoint me. Spank your little baby ass for daddy.”
You do as he asks, so completely under his control that you just can’t think straight. All you want to do is chase your own pleasure as you continue to ride your stuffed animal, and listen to the dirty talk coming out of Ari’s mouth. You gingerly slap your ass lightly, and Ari moans in appreciation before ordering you to do it harder. You comply once more, you’re so close to orgasming that you don’t even think twice.
“Yeah, fuck. Just like that, baby. God, I wish I could spank that cute ass of yours myself. Next time I see you at a party, I’m bending you over my lap in front of everyone. You’d let me do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes!” You’d have agreed to anything at this point.
“Damn right. And I’d flip your skirt over and spank your bare ass in front of all my fucking friends, because you’re my property and I can do that, can’t I?”
“Y-Yes! Ari, I’m so close!”
“Oh yeah, baby? Cum then. I’m not stopping you.”
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, and you don’t stop moving your hips, imagining your riding his thick cock as you cry out in pleasure. And you can hear Ari talking you through it, calling you his good little girl, telling you that daddy’s so proud of you, that you’re doing so well, that you’re so good at following instructions. And fuck, you’ve never been this wet before, and you’ve never cum this hard before. It takes you a good few minutes to recover, limbs shaking and your core so sensitive.
Once you finally regain your senses, you peer shyly at your phone once more to see Ari throwing away a wad of tissues.
“D-Did you…?”
He snorts, “After that show you just put on? Of course I did.”
Heat rushes to your face, a part of you disappointed that you missed out on watching him orgasm because you were too wrapped up in your own pleasure. “Oh. Wow, okay.”
Ari grins, “Look at you, all shy all of a sudden. Cat got your tongue, baby?”
You purse your lips and stick your chin out defiantly at him, “No! Just… Tired is all.”
Ari nods thoughtfully, “Tired, huh? So then I shouldn’t come over tonight?”
Tonight? But it was so late! And yet your pussy thrums at the thought.
“Y-You wanna come over?” You breathe.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I gotta touch you in person, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep the whole night.” He flashes you a cocky smile, and you watch in awe as he zips his jeans and pulls a shirt over his head. You can’t help but bite your lip. God, he was the most attractive, hottest guy you’d ever seen in your life!
“So, you gonna text me your address, or what?”
“Yes, daddy.”
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So like… when I get horny, I tend to write things like this. ANYWAYS, lemme know what you think! Love you guys! This was sitting in my drafts for ages and finally I decided to finish it! 🩷🩷🩷
1K notes · View notes
wonryllis · 2 months
Text
watermelon sugar | sim jaeyun.
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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?
preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.
or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.
meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader
genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, smut!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessing, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.
word count. so far 7k est around 15k MAJOR REVAMP!
warnings. sfw and nsfw to be added on full release
theme song. animals by maroon 5, into you by ariana grande
POSTED!!
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“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards the half naked boy wearing only a pair of sweatpants. his black hair all dishevelled looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. walking out of his room, headset resting around his neck, before your eyes return to focus on the movie playing on the tv screen. “yeah sure,” he mumbles out softly, the rasp in his voice sounding probably like he stayed up all night again.
taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch and extending the bite of fruit towards your mouth,“here you go, candy,” his custom of feeding you, something he does so often, it's become a habit. after you’ve eaten it, he hands you the ball of sweetness and sits beside you to see what you’re watching.
not even a minute after and he’s fidgeting about. pulling up to sit cross-legged,“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he turns to look at you, raising his brows subtly,“well first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your sex deeds i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you throw a seed at him. which due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest.
keeping away the watermelon in a crackle of laughter, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off,“this is a public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”
“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.
“well that is exactly what you are but i’ll stop if you make me some sweet soy-glazed potatoes,” you grin with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.
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taglist. ( open ) @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @jaklvbub @kwiwin @nanabbg @jayhoonvroom @haelahoops @aaasia111 @lovingvoidgoatee @txtlyn @jakehooni @mnxnii @rikisly @notevenheretbh1 @yunjinsbbg @jyonvsn @yizhoutv @enhyven @capri-cuntz @heeseungsbabyy @aishigrey @wooziswife @citylightsdoll @yeonzzzn @istphanie @zzaneavatsu @cha0thicpisces @laurradoesloveu @bambammtori @wonsbaer
1K notes · View notes
theoldsports · 4 months
Text
Mistake.
Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.2k words
SMUT 18+ ONLY | murder, manipulation, dubcon, mutually assured destruction, some bondage, gun violence. everything, really. danger!
The floor of Coriolanus and [Y/N]’s bedroom used to be hardwood. She would hear him on his way in when he worked late at the Citadel. The creaking floorboards typically snapped her out of sleep. Recently, Coriolanus decided on carpeting the room, full well knowing that he often woke up [Y/N] with his returns. If she stayed asleep, she asked less questions. The carpet was rich and purple. Tastefully purple, like a mauve. Coriolanus did not tolerate tacky like most ‘Capitol Phonies’ as [Y/N] called them when he would get agitated with couture, fashion and consumer trends.
When Coriolanus entered the room tonight, he was not concerned with waking his lover like usual. He was furious and he wanted attention. Coriolanus threw the door open with a bang. He came in like a shot. [Y/N] sat bolt up right in bed at the unexpected noise so late at night. She went from asleep to over alert. With practiced ease, she yanked open the bedside table’s white drawer and reached for the handgun Coriolanus had gotten her as an anniversary present. The wife of a young Senator couldn’t afford to take risks.
[Y/N] extended her arm, pointing the gun where her tired eyes spotted movement and undid the safety. She blinked once. Then twice. It was clear that it was Coriolanus, not a murderer. Not a murderer that would do her harm, anyway.
“Fuck!” Coriolanus said, raising his hands in surprise. “Darling, it’s me. Drop it!”
She would have known his footsteps if he hadn’t put in carpet.
“Coryo, good god. Don’t do that!” [Y/N] screamed. Instantly, she snapped the safety back on and dropped the gun back in the drawer. “I could have shot you! What time is it?”
“I—I don’t know! Late!” Coriolanus shouted and shrugged his jacket off. “Fuck!” [Y/N] watched his burgundy coat smack into the wall as he tossed it in frustration. Coriolanus didn’t usually get visibly angry. Instead, he got cold. There was door slamming sometimes to end an argument, maybe dirty possessive sex, but normally, he became calculating vile to be around instead of petulantly rage-filled.
Today must have been a bad day.
He almost got shot to top it off.
“I’m sorry,” [Y/N] said like she was attempting to defuse a bomb. She had only had to speak to him like that once or twice in her years of knowing him. Normally, Coriolanus found that tone condescending. “Coryo, come here.”
Coriolanus made no mind of her words. He continued to pull off his clothes a layer at a time clumsily. He pulled at his hair, he groaned sounds of anguish barely below a holler, he even threw one of his beautifully polished shoes across the room. Real, adult male rage. The kind you stayed away from.
“Coriolanus Snow, you’re going to hurt yourself!” [Y/N] shouted. “You’re gonna… hurt me, or break something. What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] said cautiously while she climbed out of bed in her nearly transparent red nightie.
Coriolanus breathed heavily. He was trying to sooth his anger. He knew this behavior, this blackout rage, was unbecoming. His eyes focused on [Y/N]’s, and then [Y/N]’s throat, then [Y/N]’s dress, and what was visible under [Y/N]’s dress. His breathing slowed a bit and he pushed his loose curls out of his eyes with the back of his hand.
“You still with me?” [Y/N] asked, stepping into where he stood. “Coryo, look at me,” [Y/N] commanded. She reached out with a hand as if Coriolanus was a wild animal that might bite her and slowly placed it on the side of his cheek. Gently, she guided him to look down at her. He stared down at her almost expressionlessly. [Y/N] reached up with her free hand to tucked Coriolanus’s long hair out of his face. “What happened? The truth, preferably.”
“Where… Where’d you get that nightgown?” Coriolanus deflected.
“Bought it last week.”
“It’s very striking on you. You aren’t cold in that thing?”
[Y/N] shook her head and dropped her hand from Coriolanus’ face. She thought her window for some sort of talk about why he had behaved like that had latched closed. “No.” She sighed. [Y/N] spent another moment examining Coriolanus with her eyes to make sure that he wasn’t hurt or completely falling to pieces standing before her in merely his crisp black pinstriped trousers and belt. Once she felt her once over was sufficient, she turned to walk back to the bed to lay down.
“I… I lied to someone when I should have told them the truth,” Coriolanus started as [Y/N] climbed back under the pristine white covers on their bed. “It was a miscalculation and I suspect it’s going to take… work to… eradicate the rest of problem entirely.”
He was incapable of saying ‘I made a mistake and my actions have consequences’ like a normal person. All the same, relinquishing that information cost him a lot emotionally. He didn’t share burdens. Coriolanus didn’t share anything.
“This was another Senator?”
“It involves another Senator, yes,” he said. “It’s inconvenient.”
“Fix it,” she said. There was no more advice to be offered on the subject without argument and she knew that Coriolanus would fix it, by whatever means necessary. [Y/N] patted the bed beside her again. “Come to bed.”
Coriolanus climbed into bed stiffly and laid beside [Y/N]. He settled for laying in an uncomfortable, temporary position because he did not expect to fall asleep in his pressed slacks. She wrapped an arm around him and yanked him on top of her, forcing his head to rest on her chest. Coriolanus liked it when [Y/N] let him use her like a pillow. [Y/N]’s heart went so fast when he was near like that. Coriolanus wondered if it was because she was afraid of him. He smiled.
“Did you get this nightgown for me?” Coriolanus asked. He traced the sheer fabric around one of [Y/N] nipples and watched the bud become stiffer with every rotation. He did that to her, not some no-talent, inexperienced Senator who probably couldn’t keep his own dick hard.
[Y/N] scoffed with her bottom lip captured between her straight teeth. “Who else?” She said plainly.
“You got all dressed up in this and I didn’t even get home on time, huh?” He said, sounding almost disappointed. Coriolanus’ finger slid under the strap of the dress and snapped it against her skin.
“There’s always tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t live with you,” [Y/N] chanced sliding her fingers into his hair. Coriolanus often hated when she touched his overly manicured hair, but [Y/N] knew he found it soothing in a moment of private vulnerability. She knew he liked the attention. [Y/N] tangled her fingers in his white blonde hair, combing out the product he had put in it that morning to hold it in place. Coriolanus let her. “You’re so tense. Relax.” [Y/N] said.
“Can’t. Go back to sleep, Darling. I might go for a run, think.”
“…You could discuss your miscalculation.”
Coriolanus was silent. That was a no without saying no. [Y/N] tugged his hair carefully in frustration. “Please stay here with me. If you go out, I’ll be all nerves til you’re properly back with me,” She said. “Stay. I’m awake now… Blow off some steam. The adrenaline of pointing a gun at my husband’s going to keep me awake for a while too.”
“I never should have bought you that,” Coriolanus said firmly, but maintained a smirk. “If I stayed with you all day, you would have no reason for needing the gun. You wouldn’t ever have to wear clothes either. Well, what you’re wearing now is hardly clothes to begin with.”
“I’m sorry. About the gun, not the nightgown,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus stole kisses across parts of her exposed and covered chest. Eventually his mouth came to rest over her clothed left nipple, with his teeth giving it a gentle tug. “Coryo…” [Y/N] whimpered.
“You want me to relax, here’s me,” Coriolanus leaned up and kissed [Y/N]’s lips. “Relaxing.” He smirked.
[Y/N] genuinely never did know if Coriolanus was out-of-his-mind obsessed with her, or if he told her what she wanted to hear because that kind of talk made Coriolanus feel better about himself in a roundabout way. Either way, she got something out of it, so complaining at this stage felt unimportant.
Sustaining two deluded minds in a relationship meant both parties had to consistently 1) lie, 2) obsess over minutia, 3) fuck.
See, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t just fucking either. The pair could not love. Something had happened to each of them that made real romantic or intimate compatibility impossible. Their intentions for the other weren’t selfless, but they mutually let other believe they were.
They were perfect together.
They had unified strength, a need for control and that beloved little thing that made them work: obsession; fundamentally. To hear one of them talk manically about the other, was to see the face of God. To each of them, the other was the only person who had ever kept them from getting bored, so they made it work. It was the endless chase that kept them going. That, and a constant need to outdo the other. Daily, they engaged in a delicate pantomime of intimacy and all their world was the stage.
“Did you hurt someone, honey?” [Y/N] moaned as Coriolanus kissed her, bucking her hips up. “You only act like this when you’ve hurt someone. Y-you, oh fuck, you know I don’t care.” She said.
“Cut it out.” He snapped.
“Who.”
“How many times before have I told you not to ask?” Coriolanus said, pulling his lips away from her chest and instead leaned back to bury two fingers inside her wetness to affirm his point. He had already noticed she hadn’t been wearing panties under the translucent nightie, so it was easy.
[Y/N] inhaled sharply at the abrupt stretching sensation and shut her eyes. “I wasn’t asking, Coriolanus.”
Coriolanus stretched her further, eliciting an explicit moan from [Y/N]. She clawed at the fabric of the only stitches he had left: his trousers.
Through gritted teeth, Coriolanus choked out “Festus Creed.”
“Festus?” [Y/N] said as she sat up on her elbows. They had known him since they were children. Coriolanus didn’t stop fucking her brutally with his hand. “Coryo… You didn’t.”
“He said something he shouldn’t have and he took his coffee too sweet to notice before it was too late. The only worry is if someone saw. Eyes everywhere. It was too public.” Coriolanus grunted. He felt himself getting hard from watching his wife fuck herself on his long fingers whilst he confessed to killing a childhood companion.
[Y/N] knew it was in poor taste to feel so good from hearing something so awful. She did not care because who was going to judge her in the privacy of her own home? She let out her most wanton moan yet when Coriolanus pressed in a third finger. He knew had an advantage in the conversation considering their current position. Coriolanus knew exactly what she wanted and that he was not going to get her to cum just from the penetration of his fingers. Effortlessly, he slid his thumb over her clit and rubbed it quickly. “W-why…” [Y/N] tried her best to sound coherent.
“He wanted something that wasn’t his.” Coriolanus muttered, leaning his mouth into [Y/N]’s bare neck.
This could have meant Festus had coveted her, or that he had coveted the presidency. Whatever it was, Coriolanus didn’t like his foods to touch and took care of the problem. [Y/N] let herself believe that out of the possible options, it was her that had gotten in the way of the two men’s relationship. It made her grin an unfortunate grin.
“Coriolanus, you sh-shouldn’t have d-done that,” [Y/N] said. Her thighs were practically shaking. “That was a mistake.” She tried. It was a mistake. Logically, she knew that. [Y/N]’s quivering hands unbuckled his belt. Carefully, she slid the fine black leather through the metal fixings and soft fabric loops. It stayed clutched in her hand.
“What was a mistake?” Coriolanus asked coyly. “This?” His hand slid out of her, making [Y/N] yelp at its absence.
At least [Y/N] was able to think clearer without his hand in her folds. [Y/N] clutched the belt in her hands tighter. “Fuck you.” [Y/N] said. She sat up further causing Coriolanus to lean back further. Her temper flared. She hated how much Coriolanus liked it when she got angry. Of course none of her feelings were really her own with out Coriolanus’ desire and interests. Her temper escalated until she could feel a full throbbing in her left armpit and side. [Y/N] also hated how aroused she still felt. Her friend was dead, after all. She sent a silent prayer to Festus, wherever he ended up.
[Y/N] knew this desire she had was going to be a challenge, but she wanted to punish Coriolanus carnally. Everything was too easy for him as it was.
When Coriolanus sat up against the fluffy pillows and the metal headboard, [Y/N] wasted no time climbing into his lap. She stared seriously into his blue eyes for a moment and leaned into his ear. “I’m extremely disappointed in you.” She said.
Nervousness coursed through her veins. Coriolanus was going to be very upset with her. She grasped Coriolanus’ left wrist in the same hand that held his belt. In one fluid motion, [Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ other wrist and clutched them over his head. She pressed his wrists together and linked them with the belt. Before she locked the belt on itself, she pushed his beautiful pale hands against the metallic headboard she was so familiar with chained to herself and cinched the belt closed fast enough to rash up Coriolanus’ delicate wrists.
Coriolanus looked at her in stunned shock. He tried to pull against the belt once.
Twice.
Three times.
It jerked the metal bedframe with a crack.
“What the fuck is this?” Coriolanus said through gritted teeth.
“Punishment. You… I… I said I was extremely disappointed in you. You created a significant amount of unnecessary stress because… Because what? A man I’ve known since I was twelve wanted to share your toys? Is that it?”
The crease between Coriolanus’ eyebrows deepened and his eyes. [Y/N] popped the button on Coriolanus’ pants.
“Now, I’m gonna get some pleasure out of you if it kills me. For my sake, not yours.” [Y/N] said. She shimmied Coriolanus’ pants and boxers down to his knees. Coriolanus wasn’t making this movement easy for her with his wriggling.
“[Y/N], get me out of this. Now!” Coriolanus commanded. At the noise, she grabbed his cock and circled her thumb around its head a few times. He was a leaking mess; he liked this more than he implied. Coriolanus let out a whimper, whether from pleasure or being emasculated. Either would do.
“No.” [Y/N] said softly. She released his cock and climbed properly back onto his lap and slowly sank all the way down on his painfully hard cock. Coriolanus was tall and broad so it was never a surprise to [Y/N] that he was so big. She herself moaned at the familiar stretch of taking him in all the way. [Y/N] rolled her hips to compensate as she settled. [Y/N] chose not think about the consequences for what she was doing. She thought about Coriolanus instead. She glanced down at Coriolanus. Of course he looked frustratingly gorgeous. He always did. His hair looked extremely tousled and his eyes were truculent. His jaw clenched in a grimace of some passionate emotion.
[Y/N] had never seen Coriolanus below her like this. She liked it.
Coriolanus thrusted his hips up, but [Y/N] sat still, not dignifying his need with a response. “No, this is an apology. This is for me now, not you.”
“[Y/N], please—“
Begging so soon?
[Y/N] fucked herself on his cock sharply. Repeatedly, she lifted herself high and slammed herself back down his length. She had no idea sex felt so good in this position.
“Coryo, I want an apology for whatever this is. You should be ashamed of what you’ve done. Are you?”
Silence. He looked away from her.
“I asked you a question.” [Y/N] whispered when she leaned in to bite Coriolanus’ earlobe.
“No.” He said. [Y/N] leaned back and struck him with her open palm. She smiled to herself as she did so, thinking of the night of their engagement party. How striking his pale face always looked with the contrast of a stiff red mark on it.
“[Y/N]!” Coriolanus shouted at the stinging sensation, pulling at his restraints. Coriolanus hated not feeling in control. He wanted to hold [Y/N], to squeeze her, to devour her alive.
[Y/N] leaned to clutch his bound forearms, bouncing up and down sickeningly fast. “You’re not ashamed? Guilty? You think this is deserved, this cruelty?” He didn’t have to answer for [Y/N] to know he didn’t feel ashamed. Coriolanus couldn’t feel shame quite like that, only self pity. He let out another moan at her words. [Y/N] clawed her nails down his biceps on a journey to his abdomen. “Coryo, apologize to me.” She purred.
“I…” Coriolanus started to apologize, but [Y/N] began sucking brutal hickeys on his neck first, then collarbones. He could barely string a sentence together at the sensation. By the time he had four blossoming bruises on the marble column of his throat, he was writhing beneath [Y/N]. He was getting frustrated. Every time he tried to buck his hips naturally (or desperately) into hers, she refused to move or acknowledge until he stopped.
“Fine! I’m sorry!” He spat, barely conscious of his words.
“For what?”
“F-Festus.” He said quietly.
“What was that, honey?” She teased, twisting one of his nipples.
“Please don’t make me talk about another man when I’m fucking you…” Coriolanus whimpered. “Undo the belt, Darling, we can—“
“Too late. What are you sorry for?” She said, rolling her hips into his. “Tell me you’re sorry or there’s no chance I let you finish.”
“Festus!”
“Louder!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry about Festus. It was a mistake. PLEASE! Let me fucking cum!”
He wasn’t sorry at all. While he came into his wife, all Coriolanus could think about was how awfully good it felt to kill someone if it meant his wife would be on him like this.
TAGLIST:
@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow
sorry if tags didn’t work! i tried!
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chromatic-corrosion · 5 months
Text
Character/Show information found on Gooseworx's tumblr
I went into Gooseworx's tumblr and made a list of all the info found on there so far.
Note: This will update as more and more posts are made.
Caine named himself before deciding that it's an acronym that stands for Creative Artificial Intelligence Networking Entity (he thinks it makes him sound professional)
Caine does not have an age. He is an AI.
Apparently, Caine is likely the best singer out of everyone in the circus.
Caine would own a circus peanut shotgun.
Caine can't grasp the concept of irony.
Caine is not affected by "this statement is false"
If Caine could remove his clothes, he'd have nothing underneath.
Caine would only bite his eyes or tongue if he thought it's funny. Otherwise, they clip through his teeth
Caine is short.
Caine does not understand verbal pranks (example: 'Joe Mama', 'Updog' etc). Even after having them explained, he'd still take them literally.
Bubble speaks in reverse once in episode 3.
Bubble is a much simpler AI created by Caine
Apparently, Bubble is the biggest slut.
Bubble is Caine's little hype man
Bubble likes being popped.
Bubble is a boy
Out of everyone, Bubble is the most likely to wear drag.
The moon is an AI "like Bubble".
The sun can talk too.
Pomni's hat is a part of her body
Pomni does not like being touched
Pomni's first design looked liked a frog
Pomni's reaction to herself in the mirror isn't a positive reaction
Apparently, Pomni's hair is black.
Pomni is good at accounting.
Ragatha gives the best hugs
Ragatha has been in the circus the second longest.
Ragatha is older than Pomni.
Ragatha likes horses.
Ragatha can play the Cello.
Ragatha can see through her button eye.
There's a particular character who hasn't been revealed yet who's practically a Gooseworx self-insert. (He's the mean one...Jax?)
Nobody likes Jax
Jax doesn't have a tail.
Jax's colour is periwinkle.
Jax deserves to be trapped in the circus the most
There's nothing heroic about Jax.
Jax is morally the worst character in the show.
Jax is the youngest member in the circus.
Jax didn't enter the circus at the age of 14.
Jax mistreats Gangle the most because shew the easiest to mistreat.
Jax is afraid of corn because it reminds him of something called 'the farm'.
Jax is a troubled individual.
If you gave Jax an unholy amount of praise, he'd be confused and frightened.
Jax mainly bullies the girls because he has issues he hasn't worked out with himself yet.
Jax most likely went through an emo phase
Gangle like to draw, specifically anime.
Gangle only has comedy and tragedy masks.
Gangle's favourite animal is Azumanga Daioh.
Gangle has a body pillow with a character on it.
Gangle watched One Piece, and her favourite character was Chopper.
Kinger is not British.
Kinger is the tallest and oldest
There is an episode that heavily features Kinger.
Kinger and Zooble eat like a chao
Kinger saw the gastral giveaway in a vision after eating two spoons of gravel.
Kinger knows how to play chess.
Zooble almost gets no screen time in the first two episodes
Zooble's appearance is based on ZoLo blocks
Zooble has a 'zooble box' of parts in their room.
Zooble does not like hugs
Zooble has been in the circus the second shortest.
Zooble is very grouchy and irritable.
Zooble is half a year older than Jax.
Zooble is alright with any pronouns
Zooble would smoke weed if possible.
Zooble is the worst at giving hugs
Zooble is constantly trying out different parts.
Zooble is the most likely to punt Jax into the abyss at any given moment
Zooble can play the drums.
Zooble most likely went through an emo phase.
Zooble was a tattoo artist at one point.
Zooble was a stoner
Zooble most likely dyed their hair in the real world.
How each member of the cast would react if you called them 'adorable'.
Nobody in the circus is truly sane
Heres the casts ages.
Pomni - 25
Jax - 22
Ragatha - 30
Zooble - 22
Gangle - 26
Kinger - 48
The performers can feel pain
Every character has a reason for the way they act.
The cast doesn't have bones, but they do have a visible skeleton when they're being electrocuted.
The black queen chess pieces name is Queenie
Queenie being a black chess piece and Kinger being a white chess piece has no relevancy to their relationship. It's only a design choice.
Queenie and Kinger aren't siblings.
The abstracted and lost eyes only look similar due to limited creativity in creature design.
Abstraction can't be undone.
The abstracted all look the same
A gloink king exists. It looks exactly like a normal gloink and dies immediately after mating.
There's "technically" a worm in episode 2.
There are "many" characters in the show that we don't know of.
The typical episode length will be 21-25 minutes.
There won't be any romance on the show. Stop asking.
Apparently, a character we haven't met yet is getting the next episode for them.
Some episodes are a '1' on the horror scale, some are a '6'.
As of november 6th, Gooseworx says, "The plan is eight episodes total, one season"
Note that some of this info may have changed since posting (or may have been revealed in the pilot), some may change during the course of the show, and some may be joke answers. Please let me know if there's anything I missed!
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venuslut · 3 months
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FANTASIZING ABOUT a whiny Choso Kamo ♡︎.
He’s whiny because it the first time he’s ever felt the euphoric sensation of his cock sliding deliciously across your warm gummy walls as you rode him. Bouncing slowly on his cock and grinding your clit on his pelvis whenever you came down. You leaned your body back while holding his thighs for support, and gave him a full view of what you were doing to him, watching as he disappears into your cunt, and the way a small bulge forms on your lower stomach from having to accommodate him inside you.
His face contorted with pleasure and quiet moans escape his lips. He grips the sheets instead of holding your hips, knowing that he’d hurt you if he held you, and that was the last thing Choso ever wanted. He’d be plagued with guilt if he hurt the first person to introduce him to such pleasures and he cared for. “Y-Y/n, fuck… ‘t’s so good,” he moaned and he threw his head back with a whine when he felt you clench around him. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact that his sounds were exciting you, even if he didn’t intend for it too, but he’s glad he can please you in some way.
No matter how much Choso wants you to speed up, he won’t say a word in fear of being too demanding or needy. You find him so cute too, watch him whimper and bite his lower lip while your wetness coated his shaft, making every inch of your joined bodies slick and slippery. His flushed face was scrunched up as he screwed his eyes shut, caught up in the moment and feeling himself become fully immersed, the only thing he’s aware of is the way you squeeze around him. “fuck— I can’t... ‘m not gonna last,” he whined, upset that he was close already.
Unable to handle it any longer, Choso sat up from lying on his back and grabbed your hips with shaky hands. He peppered sweet kisses along your jawline and down to your neck before burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Dove, little bird, let me— fuck… can I fuck you? Please, i’ll make it quick babe, just... ngh! let me use you.” And the minute you give him permission, he’s rutting into you like an animal. Setting a relentless and sloppy rhythm that was designed to bring him closer to the edge. His moans grew louder at the new pace and his fingers dug into your skin, but trying to be mindful of your frail body. They were like music to your ears and you had a sudden desire to make him moan more, to make him come undone from your cunt alone. Choso's grip on your hips tightened even more as he felt an unfamiliar tingle building in his body, but he knew it wassignaling his own impending release, learning for your ‘private’ lessons. His hips picked up speed, thrusting into her pussy like a possessed man.
“Are you going to cum? Going to cum inside of my pussy?” You pant, your breath warm against his ear as your hands explored the expanse of his chest. "That's it, baby," you grunted, your voice deep and thick with pleasure. "Give yourself to me." His head was spinning from your brazen words and a pathetic whimper escaped his lips. With one final thrust, Choso felt his release wash over him. He grunted, his body tensing as he emptied himself into you, his cum mingling with your wetness. The pleasure radiated through him, leaving him momentarily breathless and sated. It’s like he’s walking on clouds and he’s entered a whole new world, a world filled with of pleasure and happiness with endless possibilities. His vision goes black and all he can think about is how good it feels to push himself to the pinnacle of joy, and he doesn’t think he can ever give this up now that he’s got a taste for it.
But Choso doesn’t stop fucking you, adamant about helping you see the light just like he did. Even though he’s fucking himself into overestimation, all he cares about is making you finish. Thankfully, your orgasm wasn’t to far off after being filled with Choso’s seed. You grip his back and dig your nails into his skin, dragging down to leave angry scratches along the expanse of his back, making Choso groan in pain. Finally teetering off the edge and cumming on his cock, bucking your hips wildly from the intensity of the orgasm and cum drips out of you. A loud cry ripped from your throat.
When you come down from your high, both of you are left panting and sitting in silence as you stew in your orgasmic bliss. Choso came up from your neck, opting to gaze at you. He held your hair back, exposing your flushed face to his view, your eyes glazed over with pleasure. The sight of your beautiful features contorted by pleasure was almost too much for him to bear. As your body trembled against him, Choso felt himself become hard again, ready to go and experience that state of bliss for another time. You whined when you felt him harden inside of you, reawakening your own desires again. Choso pouted cutely, kneading one of your breasts between his fingers, kissing the base of your throat, and rolling his hips to provide friction.
“Again… make me cum again please, dove. Can’t get enough of your pussy.”
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briarcrawford · 1 year
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Are Animals Becoming Extinct in Fantasy Novels?
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Recently, I read this post titled “Animals have been taken off in novels since 1835. Is fiction undergoing its own extinction event?” which talks about a study that found that since 1835, the use of wild animals in fiction has dropped drastically.
Many are blaming this “slow extinction” on modern societies disconnect to nature. After all, not everyone spends their days outside, so they might not notice mice, birds, or even the insects at their feet. If they do not think about animals in their daily life, why would they think about them while writing?
That is the theory, at least.
It is worthwhile pointing out what several other writers and readers are; there are plenty of animals in children’s fiction. That is true, but what about young adult to adult fantasy? Since that is what I personally write, that is what I wanted to talk about.
Just going off what books I think of first, it seems like often in fantasy novels, the only prey animals (like deer, squirrels, or rabbits) that we see are after nearly always during or after they are hunted. Then there is the complete lack of mosquitos, leaches, biting ants, and other annoying creatures.
Sometimes, there is a mention of the sound of birds singing, but rarely ever are there any details of the birds or what they are doing. Where are the ducks and swans on the lakes? Where are the birds building nests?
Now you may be going “What is the point? Why should I care?” and I get that, but by eliminating these creatures, your novels could be losing a sense of realism.
For example, in Stephen Kings The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon — which I argue is a light fantasy story, not a horror story — has a girl is lost in the woods and stalked by a creature. Interestingly, even most survival books fail to mention animals apart from for food, but Stephen King did not do that. He had deer, water bugs skittering across ponds, and even wasps that attack the main character. This added a sense of reality to the novel. It was not just a forest with some trees and plants, it was a forest filled with life, and that can be dangerous for anyone, let alone a young girl.
So, go ahead, raise the mood with your characters. If they are miserable, make them more so by having the mosquitos bite at them day and night or have them step in a anthill. If they are happy, they could watch a mother bird feeding its young or a swan rubbing necks with its partner.
Adding more hints of nature could not only amplify the mood, but it could also make your forests seem more real.
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valeskafics · 8 months
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NSFW Headcanons for Aegon Targaryen II, Aemond Targaryen, Cregan Stark, and Jacaerys Velaryon (x Reader)
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TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her reader, afab reader, daddy kink, mommy kink, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, ye olde bondage, spanking, choking, size kink, p in v sex, oral, semi public sex, exhibitonism, literally everything
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of the Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️
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Aegon Targaryen II
-loves having you on top, this man is EXTREMELY lazy, so having you ride him is a dream come true, especially when he can watch your tits bounce as you move your hips, his hands coming up to squeeze them, or if he’s feeling extra energetic, he sits up and helps you ride him, taking them into his mouth
-loves fucking you raw, drives him absolutely feral
-he WILL cum first but he has great recovery time and will go multiple rounds especially if you’re on top
-hardcore mommy kink, loves it when you dom him, choke him, leave bite marks on him - he just wants to be your good boy, lives for getting praised by you
-push him too far though and you might just unlock dom aegon, bit of a daddy kink and a bit of a sadist, but this side of him doesn’t come out to play very often
-absolutely obsessed with your tits, uses them as pillows, literally will cry and beg just to get to touch them or suck on them
-whimpers like a little bitch the minute you pull away from him but with how deep his voice is, also lets out the sexiest groans when the two of you are fucking
-loves teasing you and getting you riled up enough that you make some excuse for the two of you to just run off and fuck (fingering you under the table, grinding himself against your back etc - he's literally a bitch in heat 98% of the time)
-extremely loud in bed, has no qualms about the entire red keep knowing just how good his lover is making him feel
-doesn't necessarily have a breeding kink but his favorite place to cum is inside you
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Aemond Targaryen
-mr "i have no taste for depravity" is the most depraved motherfucker on the planet
-daddy AND mommy kink, loves domming you but also absolutely loves having you on top, tugging on his hair, telling him to be your good boy
-enjoys receiving oral but VASTLY prefers giving, loves the way your thighs shake, the little sounds you make when he tastes you, loves it when you sit on his face, loves rubbing his nose against your pearl, loves how fucking responsive you are to his lips and tongue
-favorite position is him on top followed very closely by you on top, likes being able to meet your gaze while the two of you are fucking
-way way way into spanking and also light bondage - loves tying you up and can and will tease you for hours
-overstim king, wants you a shivering, trembling mess beneath him, loves how much you need him, how clingy you get, how you beg for him
-loves your ass, but is fucking obsessed with your tits (also thighs), while he's fucking you, if he ain't kissing you he's sucking on your tits, can't get enough of them (and if you show cleavage in one of your gowns bet that he's going to drag you back to the bedchamber and rip that off of you)
-loves the intimacy of fucking naked but also very much so gets too desperate to wait and will just lift your skirts and undo his breeches just enough to get his cock out and fuck you like an animal
-breeding kink, both because he loves seeing you pregnant AND because he needs to further the targaryen family line, also lactation kink while you're pregnant (this all falls in line with his mommy kink and obsession with your tits let's be so real)
-also very much so into choking (both receiving and giving)
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Cregan Stark
-cregan stark is the greatest lover in all of westeros, daddy kink + breeding kink are his main ones but shit, he'll try anything once
-not particularly vocal in bed, but will let out these quiet little grunts and moans of your name, growling in your ear when he fucks you about how your tight little cunt feels so perfect and is meant for him
-loves fucking you from behind because he is an ASS MAN, will pull you up so your back is to his chest and bite down on your neck as he continues railing you (yeah, he's a biter 100%, loves marking you up)
-EXTREME BREEDING KINK, loves pushing your knees up to your chest, filling you up, telling you how he's going to breed you, fill you with his seed, watch you grow round with his child, and then fuck another one into you (pushes his fingers inside you after fucking to make sure his seed takes)
-possessive and jealous, very easy to rile up and get him to drag you off to fuck you in some dark hallway in winterfell
-loves spanking you, watching your flesh jiggle as his strong powerful hands come down on it, hearing you whimper and beg for his cock
-not averse to you being on top, but very much so a dom, will try being a sub for you if you want that, but truly? it's just not his favorite
-you're typically the one who teases him at feasts, a hand a bit too close to his cock, squeezing his thigh has him all but tossing you over his shoulder and heading off to the nearest bedchamber to fuck you
-loves it when you get a little bratty because then he'll just fuck it out of you
-edging king, loves bringing you so fucking close to your peak and then stopping, making you beg for him and promise to be his good girl
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Jacaerys Velaryon
-jace seems so sweet and unassuming but he is a fucking animal once you get him in the bedroom
-the first two or three times he fucks you, he's gentle and attentive, but after that, prepare for dom jace - DADDY KINK FOR DAYS
-similarly to cregan, he loves fucking you from behind, grabbing onto your waist or tits as he pounds into you
-he's big, like so girthy you can't enclose your hand around his cock and it's long, like it will take you time to get used to this man but he stretches you out so fucking perfectly
-loves speaking high valyrian to you in bed, and if you speak it back, calling him "my king" or "my dragon", he will go absolutely feral
-loves finding the stupidest reasons to punish you and give you a nice little spanking till your ass is raw before fucking you again
-insane breeding kink, but also a pregnancy kink, loves the way your breasts are so full, how radiant you look, your stomach swollen with your unborn child, evidence of the love you two share, cannot get enough of fucking you while pregnant, only ever cums inside of you
-if you want to, he'll def let you be on top, it's just that he prefers being the one domming you
-let's out the hottest moans, loves dirty talking, whispering the filthiest things in your ears while he fucks you
-a bit of an exhibitionist in that he'll fuck you knowing full well aemond or aegon can hear and wants them to know that it's him getting you to scream
-the perfect face to sit on, loves grabbing you by the thighs, rubbing his nose against you, obsessed with tasting you
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bloodstainedhair · 3 months
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Holiday Season
pairing. obsessed 141 / polar bear-hybrid reader *scenario/headcanons
note. gender neutral reader. reader is physically described to be 6ft or over. common hybrid features such as animal ears, tail, nose, claws, and paw pads.
cw. unhealthy relationships/yandere themes, meat and blood mentions, a lot of eating from hands mentions, a weird type of infantilization, big bad bear is called cute a stupid amount of times, dangerous but passive reader, vague made-up base because i watch too many movies.
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Holed up in the middle of fucking nowhere, Alaska, the white wasteland. That's how the 141 were going to spend the merry month of December. Endless snow in sight and no family to be found. A complete and utter joke of a holiday season.
It scarcely matters, the food that's been stored, the dense furniture they've been given, even the solace they find in each other. It's miserable out here. The freeze is always licking at their skin, seeping through their layered clothes to cling to the exposed nape. It's their constant company.
Yet, something else bothers them. A hint that only their trained eyes could catch in their misery. An entity, perhaps, something that follows the men without rest. It's a shadow of winter, blanketing itself around the base and leaving its warmth with no trace to its next destination. Only something another human could pull off.
Dishes left strewn on the counter are returned to their cupboards, clean and scrubbed. Leftovers are consistently missing a bite more than what Soap remembers wolfing the night before. If a blanket or pillow goes missing, best bet it doesn't come back. It doesn't take much convincing for Price to round up his boys to find out the root of their question. Not when they've nothing else to do.
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It's Soap who finds you first. Rummaging through the fridge with a plastic container in your hands, that adorable black nose covered in spaghetti sauce. He wonders how they didn't hear you sooner with the way you carelessly scarf down the contents. You remind him a little of himself...
Little round ears perk up at the sound of his gasp. Soap freezes in place as your head cranes back to inspect him. Eyes staring at him with indifference, a lone noodle stuck to your cheek and tomato red staining your considerably large teeth. Sharp and big, enough to poke out from your mouth and dig into your chapped bottom lip. A similarly large grayish-blue tongue swipes out to clean the damning evidence.
So. Fucking. Cute.
Johnny is thanking the names of every God he knows when you let him lead you by hand to his team. A new warmth flows through his body, lighting up his dormant nerves in the winter night, your thick black claws prodding into his rough skin. You must be a docile ol' thing, obediently following him to his buddies, though only after he bribes you with more meals to come. He'll cook up the whole damn kitchen if it means you trail him like this daily.
Ghost is sure that Johnny's the one hiding furry ears and a tail when he rushes over like a dog with a fresh new bone. That, and he's more crazy than he imagined dragging over what looks to be a six foot something polar bear hybrid right his way. Ghost doesn't forget things easily, and he's confident that said bears are known to be the most eager predators in the presence of flesh. Not just by circumstance, no, by nature.
A strange thought does pop up in head. That fluffy white tail you sport catches his eye for longer than he'd like to admit. He wonders. If he offered up a nice, raw chunk of seal to you, would it wag in anticipation? Would your ears twitch at the sounds of his boots crunching in the snow, bringing you yet another delicious catch? He could be the perfect provider for you, he thinks. Maybe even have you hunt alongside him, a bonding ritual of sorts. Blood all over your mouth, allowing only Simon to dab away at your chin with a towel. What a sight to behold. Two predators in the same room.
Gaz takes a step away before doing the exact opposite a minute later. You're not just some wild animal, and he's half worried he just disrespected you to your face (you didn't see it). Any bit of nervousness he had melts away when you gently push your nose into his warm hands. He was going for a handshake, but this is surprisingly preferred. Seems he missed wiping some the cocoa from a recent pot of hot chocolate. He hadn't expected you to be so... soft. If you want more, he's got a heap of cookies hidden away in his room. No issue with you visiting him for a late night snack. Christ, he'll even handfeed you if you're feeling lazy, no worries.
Captain Price nearly drops the flimsy cup of coffee held in his gloved hands. Fucking giant thing you are. He nearly drops it again when your nose takes a sharp turn to the smell of his beverage. Not picky, are you... He'll keep note of that for later. From the looks of it, you're adapting well to the chaos of his batch, sniffing and patiently waiting for Soap to release you from his iron grip on your paw pad. He also takes note of what your wearing almost immediately, Arctic grade parka wrapped around your waist in favor of standard workwear, more akin to a jumpsuit than winter gear. Unbelievable. However, that does explain it now. You work here.
It makes sense, considering you're one of the more volatile hybrids. So many people, including your bosses, are uneasy about the predators. It must've been particularly bad for you. Hiding you away in a big and lonely base to eat dinner at an empty table. The world unable to appreciate you for what you are.
Price on the other hand, he knows his boys like the back of his hand. They understand your type. Would take you in without judgement or fear. Indulge you. Feed you fat red meat from calloused palms and let you lap at the warm blood still dripping on the snow. Gladly clean the droplets that stain your pure white parka. Make you warm.
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