I’ll update this with whether requests are open or not at any current time, as well any new rules I find need to be added. Please keep an eye on this post before sending in a request.
Updated: 2/06/2023
Requests are currently: Open
First and foremost: minors DO NOT INTERACT! This is an 18+ blog, you’re not welcome here.
Writing:
My default is female X character, but male and gender neutral requests are perfectly fine to send in.
I don’t write ego x ego, but I will however write ego x reader x ego
Anything to do with watersports, scat, age play, non-con, and A/B/O are huge no’s
I of course reserve the right to say no to any stuff and kinks that I haven’t thought of, and might find I don’t like in the future.
Characters:
Resident Evil:
-Chris Redfeild
-Karl Heisenberg
-Alcina Dimitrescu
-Donna Beniviento
Markiplier Egos:
-Yancy
-Engineer Mark
-Darkiplier
-Googleplier
-Illinois
-Wilford Warfstache
- Abe
- Gunther B Gunnerson
Sonic movies:
-Agent stone
-Ivo Robotnik
-Tom Wachowski
Kingsmen Movies:
-Harry Hart (Galahad)
-Merlin
-Eggsy
-Agent Whiskey
- Agent Tequila
Please feel free to ask for other characters, but please make sure they are 18+ as I will not age up characters that are children.
You had been with the 141 for some time, and they were yours and you were their's in every sense. Your brother's in arms. Fighting and bleeding together, showering under waterfalls deep in south american jungles and sleeping huddled together in the cold Russian forests.
Your brothers, who were oh so protective of you. You had never been without at least one of them, always Soap walking with you to the galley or cuddled up with Kyle, tv illuminating you both on nights the guilt and trauma of your jobs left you restless. Spending time in Prices office while he worked, or in the gym with Ghost, working out side by side.
The five of you were a family, and they never let you forget that. Trinkets from far off countries when they came back from separate missions, extravagant birthday presents and candlelight dinners on the rare occasion there was no work to be done, no critical mission and no evil leader looking to take over the world.
So, when you had been pushed to the wall, head smacking the stone behind you, arms grappling against your assailant, as that solider (the very same one that Kyle had frowned at when he saw his gaze linger on you) held you down, screamed at you, for earning your spot on your knees, for being the base whore and the 141's personal slut when you had rejected him, you had been utterly confused and enraged.
You had earned your spot. You certainly hadn't slept with your comrades, 141 or not, and you certainly hadn't planned on it.
You had looked, of course. Spending months in rural countries, being in forced proximity to large, good looking men, well it was inevitable. They looked too, obviously. You were the only woman with them. Soap flirted, as he always did, and when timed dragged on, the shoulder pats and fist bumps from everyone grew more bold, a hand settled on your lower back, or pulling you close to whoevers side, arm wrapped around your waist.
It's when you get separated from the solider who attacked you, others from his unit yelling as they separate him from you, and him from Soap, who is being held back by five men including Gaz (who all struggle to hold the furious scot down), that your mind races. You are gasping for breath, shock running its course through your body at everything, and you turn and run blindly, away from the shouting and the accusations.
Your feet take you down a familiar path, and you don't even knock, just bursting into Price's office. The gazes of your captian and your lieutenant burn into you, and Ghost, who had been lazing about on Prices couch, boots scuffing the coffee table with his balaclava pushed up to his nose, shoots up in alarm.
"Love?" Price asks as he strides over, gaze darkening as he takes in your disheveled appearance. "What happened?"
He puts his warm hands on your shoulders, and your rush forward, burying your muffled sob in his chest as he hold you tightly against him.
Ghosts swears under his breath, sharing a concerned look with Price.
The door opens once more moments later, Gaz being followed by Soap. Soap softens when he sees you.
"Bonnie, ahm so sorry-" He starts, but is interrupted by Ghost.
"What happened." He ordered, voice cracking across the room like thunder, but you don't flinch, you know he's just worried about you.
You sniff, pressing your cheek against Price's chest as you face Ghost, saving Soap from his wrath.
"It was nothing. I rejected his guy and he got mad."
"Mad! He bloody attacked yeh!" Soap retorted, and Price stiffened.
"Who was it?" Price asked darkly.
Gaz shook his head. "Some Army guy, I don't know him, but I've seen him around. The MP's took him away, they'll want to talk to Y/N later."
"I should've killed him right there." Soap glowered, flexing his arm. "Saying all tha rubbish an puttin his hands on yeh."
Your cheeks heat up. You hadn't exactly wanted them to know that part of the incident, and when Price rumbles out a, "What rubbish?" You die a little on the inside.
Soap, with all his anger, goes eerily quiet, so Gaz sighs and steps up. "He said that, uh, she's sleeping with all of us, called her the base whore."
The room is dead silent, and Prices grip on you tightens. But, the energy in the room shifts to something else, something warmer and uncharted.
It had been so long since you've been with someone, casually or not. Your job made it almost impossible to date, and being trailed by 6ft special forces men all the time made even the most desperate potential flings turn tail and run. But maybe you had been blind. There obviously was some truth behind the rumor, for someone to so baselessly attack you over it. Maybe the key to your solutions was in front of you the entire time.
"Well," You said wiping your eyes and letting your gaze meet each of their eyes. You don't know where the boldness comes from, but the adrenaline and emotions of the earlier incident flow through you, "I don't like being lied about. We may as well make the rumors true, don't you think?"
Johnny who makes it everyone else’s problem that he hasn’t got laid in weeks, that he’s so fucking pent up he can feel it in his teeth. Won’t stop his Scottish whining that his hand isn’t enough, needs a warm cunt to fuck or he’ll go insane.
So, you take one for the team, let him fuck all his pent up cum inside of you because you don’t think you can hear another description of how sad his hand feels. Hope to get him to shut the hell up.
But now he just won’t stop whining about needing to fuck your cunt.
Camera Obscura [S.T.A.R.S. era Wesker/Reader] - Chapter 2
[Ao3 Mirror]
Rating: T (chapter), E (whole fic)
WC: 3.7k
Contents: Mild sexual harassment (not from Wesker). Eventual secret workplace age gap relationship with emphasis on innocence and an exceptionally nervous Reader-insert.
===
[Chapter 1]
===
It keeps you up most of the night. Long after you’ve gone home, the events intrude upon your mind. The joy and enthusiasm in everyone’s eyes, the ease with which Redfield had touched your shoulder, like he’d known you your whole life. It was… overwhelming. The idea that these people, these strangers, actually were excited for you to work with them? Less impossible, more inconceivable.
And if only that were the end of it.
Your stomach flips again. That flash of cerulean haunted you the rest of the day. You were completely useless, did not do a single file delivery after your escape from the S.T.A.R.S. office. For hours, you’d just paced the library’s upper floor, nervously resorting books that had been misplaced. Even when you left for the day, you peaked out of the door before leaving, just to make sure you wouldn’t run into him again.
Their captain was…
He made you feel…
You didn’t know what to call it. He made you feel sick. Lightheaded and nauseous and he made your hands shake. You want to… touch him, you think? Or run away.
You bury your face in the pillows and press down on the fluff until colors dance behind your eyelids.
You never want to see him again.
You hope he comes by the library tomorrow.
You come in early; it’s never entirely quiet in a police station, but at least it’s less busy. The officer at the desk is different and you awkwardly have to explain- yes, you’re new, no, they didn’t give you an ID yet. When you tell him you’re working under Ross, understanding spreads over his features.
“You’ll have to go to HR directly.” He says, nodding in what seems to be pity. “Don’t bother waiting for him.”
You really hate that. You… you don’t even know where HR’s office is. Chewing your lip, you force yourself to nod and smile. “I- I will.”
You know you should, but… can’t bring yourself to do it. It’s too daunting, too nebulous, and the fear makes you feel stupid.
So, you ignore it.
As soon as you enter the library, you head straight for the little check out request book. There’s a half-dozen requests you didn’t get to, still waiting. There’s even a new entry, someone from the overnight staff, and that’s fine. You peek through the list- and your heart clenches. Second from the bottom in thin lettering is A. Wesker, Medicinal Benefits of Herbs, 2/26, S.T.A.R.S.
Even the way he writes his name fascinates you. How big the A is, his whole last name written in small, cramped capitals. It’s adorably bad penmanship; he should’ve been a doctor.
But…
You step away from the book. The sickness is back, fingers trembling. You feel so weak. Juvenile. Immature. You breathe out slowly, try to calm yourself down from that edge of… something.
No deliveries today, you decide. Or at least, only a few. You earned that, right?
Instead, you focus on cleaning: the library itself is massive, two floors with bookshelves so tall you need ladders to reach the highest shelves. It’s gorgeous, all dark wood and that out of place crown molding. You spend almost as much time admiring it as you do searching for a feather duster.
It still feels unnatural for you to go behind the little counter, so you make your search swift. Thankfully, there’s one in the drawer helpfully labeled Cleaning that's got a small pile of rags, a duster, and a can of cleaning spray. From there, you start at the top, up those towering stairs and so carefully climb up a rolling ladder to reach the top of the second floor shelves.
The first sweep of the duster has you gagging; nobody has been up here in years. Which does make it even easier to justify why you're doing this and not working through the log book first. You work with a nervous exactness, starting from one corner, dusting top to bottom. Cobwebs and dirt and flecks of drywall that have shaken off in the building’s age all shower down off each layer of shelves, down until they reach the wood floors. Then, you leave that small mess for a minute and move to the next shelf.
On and on, you manage to work through a whole row of shelves-
“'Scuse me?”
In an instant you’re gripping the ladder’s sides for your life, heart thudding in your chest. Someone- there's someone--- You whip your head around, peering down to the bottom floor. The shock makes your legs weak, you struggle to dismount the ladder without breaking your ankles.
“Sorry,” The voice calls up to you again, definitely a man’s. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
“No, no, it’s-” You wave weakly, chest aching as you try to catch the breath that’s fled from you. “It’s okay, sorry.”
“You’re Ross’s new assistant, right?” He calls up and as you round the top of the stairs you finally put a face to the voice. A heavyset man with a suit as gray as his moustache waits for you near the checkout counter.
You want to correct him, you’re not an assistant, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. “Um, yeah.” You introduce yourself as you descend the stairs. “How can I help you…?”
The man grins- and his gaze drops. You feel it on you, his eyes scraping over your outfit, over every inch of skin he can find. Your feet freeze to the stairs, unwilling to come any closer. “It’s nice to meet you. I heard you made a bit of a stir yesterday.”
Your stomach sinks through your feet. A stir? “Oh, uh, I’m- I’m sorry?”
He laughs, the kind of loud, full-belly guffaw that only old men have. “No, hon, you’re doing fine.” Unsettled, you slowly make your way down to him. He smiles again, but it feels wrong, somehow. A kind of show, you think. As your shoes touch the bottom floor, he continues. “I’m Chief Irons.”
“Oh.” The anxiety in your chest floods you, makes you lightheaded- and you cling to the stair railing for any support. He’s the chief?
He steps closer, somehow knowing you wouldn’t be approaching him- and offers you his hand. You don’t want to, but… you have to, don’t you? It's what you're supposed to do. If he can feel how clammy your palm is, he doesn’t mention it, only takes your hand in his. You hold your breath the whole time, don’t breathe out until he releases you.
He waits, as though expecting you to speak first. When you don’t, he awkwardly shuffles back and motions towards a small stack of books that had been left on the counter. “I just came to deliver some more donations from our friends at Umbrella. Normally I’d just send my assistant over, but I heard our cute new hire had been very busy.” He grins again, “Wanted to meet you myself.”
“Oh.” Is all you manage.
Something in his eye twinkles, a kind of enjoyment at your discomfort. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Come by my office if you need anything, alright?” He smiles again- and touches your arm as he passes by you.
You wait several minutes by the bottom of the stairs. You know he went out the main door, not the one by that statue, but you wait anyway before slipping out to the linen room. You wash your hands and try to calm yourself in the mirror.
Some guys are just like that. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. It’s not a big deal. You… you can handle this. This is just what a workplace is like, don’t be juvenile about this.
When you return to the library, you don’t particularly feel like cleaning. Or putting away those books. Or delivering files. You get as far as making checkout slips for all the new additions, but that’s it. You spend the next hour hiding upstairs, flipping through a book on the natural history of the Arklays.
This time you hear it: the door creaks. Someone enters the library. Your stomach sinks, the guilt of having avoided work for most of the day catching up in an instant. You press yourself closer to the wall, the shelves behind you biting into your back and you hope whoever it is just leaves an entry in the log and leaves. Footsteps- two sets, you think?- echo from below you.
And your name floats up through the wood. You frown sharply and edge closer to the railing- and oh my god. No. You completely forgot.
Jill leans against the checkout counter as Chris peaks between bookshelves. The urge to stay hidden is overwhelming. It would take so little. You could say you went home early, it just slipped your mind...
“We got cake!” Chris calls out.
The party. Guilt again washes over you. When was the last time anyone got you a cake? They put in effort, you can't just avoid this...
Jill’s eyes drift up- and the time for wallowing in self-loathing has ended. She smiles, broad and genuine. “Hey! There you are!”
You squeak and scramble to your feet. “S-sorry!” You called down, hurriedly putting away the book you’d been flipping through. You're not even sure you got it back in the right spot. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
It feels too obvious a lie, the library too quiet for that, even if you were absorbed with your work. But they don't call you on it. “Ah, that’s no problem.” Chris says, coming around to the base of the stairs. “We’re all set up for the party, are you done for the day?”
“Um,” You start, glancing over at the half-dusted shelves. That, in its entirety, was the unimpressive grand summary of your productivity. You wring your hands, nerves taking control over you. “I guess.” You... you can do more tomorrow to make up for it. Today was just… just a bad day. You can handle this. And you can handle the party. You're a grown adult, you can do this.
You descend the stairs once more. This time, however, has none of the dread you’d felt the last time. Anxiety, yes- being carted away with two people you’d only met the day before is not something you’re thrilled about- but not like with him. His pawing handshake-
Sweats beads at the back of your neck. The memory brings back a very different one- of a different introduction. The stress of the day had finally pushed him from your conscious mind and his sudden reappearance in your psyche makes you weak in the knees. He’s-
They’re already dragging you through the hallways, laughing and joking. Is he going to be there? Is this the kind of thing the captain stays for, or would he have left so everyone else can relax? The trembling returns to your hands, breaths coming quick and shallow. Do you want him to be there?
It’s too late to find the answer. The setting sun makes the logo on the wall glow, golden and shining against the matte paint. Chris opens the door. Inside there are somehow even more people than before- a whole wave of new faces. Everyone else who was off doing their job during your last visit has gathered together, all waiting for you.
“There y’all are!” One of them cheers, immediately swarming towards the entrance. It’s the big guy you saw last time and his is smile infectious, even if it’s half-covered by his beard.
“Did you meet Barry yesterday?” Jill asks, “He’s our weapons guy.”
“Sure am,” He confirms, then twists to show off a huge, shiny gun at his hip.
He beams with pride, but the thought makes you a little queasy. The actual violent nature of police business-- let alone special tactics was something you’d rather shy away from. Still, you smile tightly and hope your first (second?) impression isn’t so awful.
It goes on like this- a new member of the team introducing themselves, you desperately trying to cement face and name together, despite how they’re already slipping from your memory. Forest and Richard and Rebecca and Enrico and Brad-- With each introduction you’re left clinging helplessly to Chris or Jill’s presence to avoid drowning in the onslaught of unwanted socialization. And in each moment between, your eyes scan the room. New people, ones you’d just met, and oh, Richard Aikens- yes, yes you remember Aikens- but where is...?
You glance over your shoulder, try to make the motion look casual. Your palms sweat, your hands tremble- and a pang shoots through your heart when you realize the little office in the corner is dark. Even with the blinds pulled, there’s no light at all in the room, the door closed tightly. He’s not here. He didn't stay. Anxiety and excitement each melt from your shoulders, replaced in equal measure of relief and disappointment.
“We weren’t sure what kind of cake to get, so it’s just vanilla-” Someone says. You look to them, to the cake, and plaster on a smile.
Despite how overwhelming it all was, you... think you had a good time.
You don’t avoid their office the next morning. In fact, you return to finally get the checkout slip from Aiken. He laughs, says the captain had me sign it, but I forgot to give it to you at your party which makes you a little breathless. You again check the office before you leave- lights off, blinds drawn. This time, even the relief you’d felt the night before fades, left only with the disappointment.
You spend most of the day working through your backlog, two more deliveries to the east side offices, one to the west and you’re almost done, only a handful of entries left. You take a late lunch break and use it to explore around the station a little. You’d caught sight of a sandwich place only a few doors down and with food in hand, you poke around the outside of the building. Ideally, a nice little bench somewhere that you can eat that isn't the break room.
You find a set of stairs labeled fire exit with the chain broken. Intrigued and momentarily too curious to resist, you climb them, finding your way onto the roof over the east wing. You worry for a moment that you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be- until you spot a two sun bleached lawn chairs tucked up against a wall. You inch closer- and a pile of bricks is stacked up between them, laid just carefully enough to balance an ashtray on top. Well. If you weren't supposed to be here, at least you were definitely not the only one seeking some alone time around the station.
With the building blocking the worst of the cold wind, you borrow one of the chairs and enjoy the winter sky while you eat.
When you return from your break you resume that sorely needed dusting. You get through another three bookshelves before you realize the station has begun to quiet down. It's gotten late, probably time for you to head home as well. You descended down the ladder and stairs again and return to the checkout counter to retrieve your bag. But the log catches your attention. You know, you know who the most recent- and more importantly the second most recent- entries should be. But now, it’s not.
Frost, Case #980101-9, 2/28, Spec. Tac. & Resc. Serv.
Sorry, to add to your list, looks like you were on lunch. :)
You huff a laugh. His note goes onto the next line, the smiley face barely squished in before he ran out of space entirely. Of course he’d slipped in while you were out. Frost- you met him, right? Yeah, you’re pretty sure. Kind of timid, made you feel a little more at home in a room full of people who weren’t nearly as shy. You should just go home and handle it tomorrow... But he’s with S.T.A.R.S… You… you have time.
Not like you have plans after work.
The case itself is easy to find now that you’ve deciphered the sorting system. But it is the ninth case listed for the day, which means you have to unbury it. It’s fine and all, it just takes a little more effort than you wanted and by the time you’re backing out into the hallway, the February evening has already snatched all the light from the world. The hallways are only illuminated by the warm, pale lamplight.
You feel a little silly having stayed late and skipped some requests for this, but… you do like them. Everyone in the S.T.A.R.S. office has been so nice to you. And it’s not that out of the way. And it’s less work for tomorrow- with every rationalization the case box in your arms gets a little lighter.
You’re even smiling to yourself as you heft the box onto your hip, opening the S.T.A.R.S. office door and backing through-
And you're not alone in the office. From one corner, black glass reflects back at you.
“Oh! Captain!” You squeak, clutching the box to your chest tightly. Most of the lights in the office are off, casting heavy darkness over the room. But his face is brightly illuminated by a computer, white light carving harsh shadows over his sharp features- at least the ones you can see, anyway. He stands- or rather leans over Chris’s desk, his back a rigid line as he examines the screen. If you startled him at all, he doesn’t show it.
“S-sorry, I thought--” You trail off.
Wesker’s head turns towards you, a meager acknowledgement, but his mouth remains a firm, serious line. “Little late for deliveries, isn’t it?”
“Yeah!” You agree quickly, “I was just finishing up, um, last one for today.” As if you prove your intent, you rush over to Frost’s desk and fret for a moment where to leave it. The best you can do is in his chair, the checkout slip taped to the top. You step away, wringing your hands, “All done!”
But when you turn back, Wesker isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s returned to whatever he was doing when you entered, typing and clicking away at Chris’s terminal. You want to ask, want to… you don’t know. Talk to him. Or maybe run away. He’s the only one you didn’t get to really meet at the party. “Um,” You start,
“One moment.” He cuts you off. Not rude, at least- “Redfield forgot to submit a report.” Oh, right. He’s working. You’ve intruded into his workplace- but now it feels awkward to leave. So you wait and watch him. The reflection on his glasses is impossible to read, the screen stretched and distorted, so you look to his face instead. His brow is creased slightly, mouth still taut in what you think might be more frustration than simple focus. It’s not so different from the half-quirked smile he gave you, in all honesty. Not terribly emotive, maybe that’s why-
The reflection on his glasses shifts.
Oh. He’d caught you staring. Heat erupts over your cheeks- and his head tips slightly as he watches you in turn. “Did you need anything else?”
“No!” You squeak, raising your hands in an instinctive defense. As quickly as you said it, you regret it. “I mean, um-” Wesker stands up, leaning away from Chris’s computer. “I just noticed that, uh, you weren’t at the- the party, uh, sir,” You tack the title on at the end, still unsure how you’re supposed to talk to him. And then immediately realize what you’ve said. “Not that you had to be! Of course! I mean, um, you just- and you were gone again, I was just…”
One pale eyebrow has snuck up over his dark lenses. Intrigue or doubt maybe, you can’t tell which. Either way it drains the words from you and your thought dies as you wish you could have just gone home instead.
“I wasn’t aware I had to report my whereabouts to you.”
The words make your chest tighten in fear- you hadn’t meant to overstep, oh, you just wanted to talk- but then he gives you that same smile. Just the faintest tug at one corner of his mouth, a faint lilt to his words. He’s playing with you- and you exhale shakily, the adrenaline drop making you almost giddy.
“I…” You start, then force yourself to take a deep breath. “Are you okay? I was worried you were sick.”
“Ah.” He says, “I have personal obligations I must tend to from time to time.” He says it casually, not an ounce of shame or avoidance. Just a simple, opaque statement that leaves you no room to question. Personal obligations. You roll the words in your head for a moment. He’s very private… oh, maybe you overstepped. As you begin to wilt, Wesker reaches out and turns off the computer, leaving him bathed in shadows.
“But,” His voice shocks you back to yourself, holding your breath as he turns to fully face you. “Your concern is appreciated.”
Your cheeks burn. “Oh!” The noise is tiny, involuntary, like he’s squeezed the last of the air from your lungs. “Yeah, I- um- good- good night, Captain!” You scramble backwards, half tripping over your own feet, but manage to throw yourself out into the hallway without even hearing if Wesker had replied.
You don’t consciously realize you’ve managed to grab your bag and slip out the doors until you’re halfway home. The chilled night air does nothing to cool the heat that lingers on your face. You don’t think about it- your mind empty and ringing and you nearly trip up the stairs to your apartment, fumble with the keys before you allow yourself a single intentional thought.
Your concern is appreciated. Your heart races, thudding against your ribcage as you lean back against the door. In the dark of your unlit living room you can still see his face- the sharp line of his nose, the almost invisible curl of his lip.
=====
If you like my fics, please consider reblogging!
✮ cw/tags: pwp, smut, drunk sex, one night stands (or is it?), coworkers to lovers, NOT EDITED WHOOPS #imrushing to go see the csm movie rn
✮ a/n: i know one of you is very happy to see this. WELLLL AS PROMISED (though ik im late), here is the first installment of the kinktober series (which lowkey may turn into NNN too hehe). this has been absolutely gruesome to right and took me soooo long... @mrshayakawaa, this is our baby. i couldn't have done it without you. ITS NOT EDITED because I realllllly wanted to get this out before I went to go see the new CSM movie so!!! enjoy!!! i'll prob come back and edit it later #sorrynotsorry. hope this makes up for my absence a bittttt x
(ok idk why it wont save the spaces i made between scenes but wtv i give up cuz im running late! i'll fix tn)
✮ wc: 24k
THE MISSION WAS far more tedious than you had planned for. It was an out-of-town mission, too. Some housekeeping that the Kyoto sector apparently was too understaffed to handle. Between the blood, the guts, and the fact that the damned devil exploded and gave birth to what had to have been hundreds of mini devils, it was… well, it was shit. Utterly exhausted by the day’s events, you and your division sat in complete silence the whole car ride over to the hotel.
You sat in the backseat of your supervisor’s car, crammed between Denji and Power (who were, as always, bickering over something stupid), head pressed up against the window to cool down. You were beyond tired, yes, but your mind refused to settle down, and it wasn’t a result of the mission.
In the driver’s seat, Lieutenant Captain Hayakawa – your partner and supervisor – gripped the steering wheel like he owned it. Two big, strong hands wrapped around it, tilted it to the side to follow a curve in the road – for a moment, your eyes betrayed you, following the intricate scars on his skin, the veins on the backside of his hand. On his right hand, which sat atop the wheel, a gash was healing. It was something small, something you probably shouldn’t have noticed, but that was just the thing.
There were a lot of things about him you’d begun to notice lately. The two of you had been partners for quite some time. It hadn’t always been smooth sailing, but the two of you got along fairly well. For the most part, anyway.
He wasn’t easy to ruffle, but when you did manage it – when your teasing hit just the right nerve, or when his calm, responsible act cracked for just a second – you felt victorious. He’d shoot back with some sharp remark, you’d bicker like siblings, and eventually, it would settle into that comfortable rhythm the two of you seemed to share.
But lately… something had shifted.
You told yourself it was stupid, that you were only noticing him this way because of his hair – longer now, tied back in that neat band, that stupid ponytail attracting your gaze far too often. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d been in a dry spell for months, and your mind was starved for any excuse to wander. Yeah. That had to be it.
Or maybe, just maybe, he was simply getting finer with age. No longer was he the broody, short-haired 19 year old you’d been paired with. Now, he was taller, shoulders broader, muscles a little more pronounced. And you… well, you weren’t blind.
And yet, the thought didn’t stick.
Because the image of him standing between you and that thing – unflinching, steady – played over and over in your head like a broken reel. The sharp swing of his blade, the exact way his shoulders squared, the rise and fall of his calm, precise breathing. That look in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before – focused, unshakable, like nothing in the world could touch him.
He hadn’t faltered. Not even for a second.
The chill of that moment hadn’t left your skin. If he hadn’t been there… if he hadn’t moved in front of you without hesitation, you wouldn’t have been leaning against this car window. Hell, you wouldn’t have been there at all.
He had saved your life.
The car finally rolled to a stop in front of the hotel, the soft hiss of the brakes jolting you out of the half-daze you’d fallen into. You blinked against the neon glow of Kyoto’s streets, the night pressing heavy and damp against the glass.
When the trunk popped, you climbed out with the others, dragging your legs like they weighed double what they should. Denji and Power shoved past each other, bickering about who was grabbing which bag, and you muttered something under your breath before reaching in to snag your own. The straps cut into your palms, the weight pulling you forward, and you nearly bumped shoulders with Aki as he pulled his suitcase free with practiced ease.
You didn’t look at him directly – not really – but you felt him there, just a little too close, quiet as always. The memory of his blade cutting through the dark flashed in your mind again, sharp as glass. You swallowed hard and told yourself not to think about it, not to think about him.
The automatic doors opened with a soft rush of cool air, and you followed behind your supervisor, the marble floor clicking beneath your boots. The lobby was bright, polished, almost too clean compared to the day you’d just had. You were still stuck replaying that moment when you overheard the conversation Aki was having with the receptionist.
“Sorry,” the desk clerk said, polite but firm, eyes flicking up from his computer. “We don’t have any reservations under that name.”
“Fuck, I never actually called, did I?” The young captain groaned, dropping his head against the surface of the counter. “Of course I fucking didn’t,” Then, raising his head up and pinching the bridge of his nose, he added, “Do you… uh… do you have any other rooms available?”
Himeno stepped forward from where she was standing, folding her arms over the counter and leaning forward as if she, too, were desperate to find anything, at this point in the evening.
A minute passed. An agonizing minute, filled with nothing but the sound of keys clicking. Then, the desk clerk pursed his lips. “Okay, yeah, we have some availability. Two rooms. I can do one with two full beds and a pullout, and one queen suite.”
“Is that all you have?” Aki sighed, clearly unsatisfied.
Before he could add anything more, Himeno interjected, “We’ll take it.”
Aki whipped his head around, glaring daggers into her head. “That won’t be enough room for all of us. Someone’s gonna have to share a bed.”
Himeno shrugged. “Two of us take the queen. Three of us take the double beds and the couch, and we should be good,” She paused, then added, “What’s our other option? Keep walking around ‘til we find somewhere to crash? Our phones are dead, Aki. You saw the situation. There’s nothing out here for a while. Suck it up.”
Good point.
“Fine,” Aki sighed, “We’ll take the rooms.”
“Fine,” Aki exhaled, resignation in the sound. “We’ll take the rooms.”
The clerk clicked around, tapped a few keys, then slid two plastic key cards across the counter with a tired smile. Himeno snatched one without hesitation.
“Oh, and I’m not sharing a bed,” she said breezily, already turning toward the elevators. “I’ll crash with the two dipshits. You’re with her.”
Your heart sank straight through the floor.
No…
“You’re joking,” Aki muttered, twirling the key around his finger like it might burn him. But Himeno didn’t even glance back – her laugh trailed behind her as she disappeared down the hall with Denji and Power.
That left you and him.
Don’t leave me alone with him, Himeno.
You tried to swallow the sudden tightness in your throat. “I’m… sure there’s a couch I can crash on. Normally, the rooms have one,” you murmured as the two of you headed toward the second elevator.
Aki pressed the up button with two fingers. “Bullshit. Like I’m letting you sleep on the couch.”
Ugh. You and your damn chivalry, you thought. Of course he wouldn’t.
Still, that wouldn’t stop you from trying.
He’d sooner suffer himself than allow you any discomfort. That was the kind of man he was, and the kind of man you found so frustratingly hard to be around. Because it made your chest tighten. It made you feel seen when you didn’t… want to be.
The elevator dinged softly, the doors parting with a slow drag. You both stepped inside, the air-conditioning in the lift almost too cold against your sweat-dampened skin. Your reflection flickered faintly in the brushed steel walls, your nerves painted across your face.
“Really, I don’t mind the couch,” you tried again as the doors sealed shut, the world outside cut off with a faint hiss. “Aki, you need rest. I’m fine, really.”
His gaze shifted toward you then, just for a second, before returning to the glowing floor numbers above. “And what kind of man would I be if I let that happen? You’re my partner.” His tone carried the weight of finality, but softer underneath, reluctant. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Your chest ached, a quiet ache you buried quickly before it could show.
The elevator slowed, jolted, and the doors creaked open onto your floor. The carpet muffled your steps as you trailed behind him, your pulse strangely loud in your ears. Aki slid the key into the lock and scanned it, the red light flicking to green with a soft beep.
You held your breath as he pushed the door open.
The room was… a setup. Clearly meant for lovers, not two co-workers stuck out of town after a bloody mission. The bedspread was pristine, two towel swans perched neatly on the duvet, their necks curved into the shape of a heart. The curtains were drawn just enough to reveal a wide city view – lights glittering against the darkness, neon signs bleeding colors into the night.
You blinked, stunned into silence.
Aki dropped his gaze to the room, his frown deepening. “No couch.”
Shit.
You turned slowly, scanning again as if one might magically appear if you looked hard enough. “…I guess not.” You pointed toward the tray left neatly on the counter. “They gave us a bottle of Merlot and the room service number, though. I’ll be nice and buzzed on the floor.”
That earned you a quiet sigh. He let his bag slide from his shoulder and hit the carpet with a dull thud. “I’m showering first. I feel like shit.”
Okay. Tough crowd.
You nodded quickly, anything to avoid meeting his eyes. “Go ahead.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just grabbed the handle of his bag and tugged it closer to the bathroom door before shutting himself inside. The sound of running water followed almost immediately, steady and muffled behind the wall.
You exhaled slowly, as if you’d been holding your breath since Himeno’s declaration downstairs. Your fingers busied themselves unpacking little things, laying them neatly on the counter by the TV: a mini first aid kit, lotion, the spare change of clothes you’d stuffed haphazardly in your bag. You lined them up like the order would keep you grounded, like if everything looked neat on the outside, your insides would stop feeling so messy.
The city lights spilled across the room in fractured patterns, a reminder of how far from home you were, how detached this moment felt. Just you. Just him. One bed.
You glanced toward the bathroom door, steam already beginning to cloud the edges of the mirror on the wall.
What were you supposed to do now?
The room was quiet enough that you could hear the faint hum of the vent, the deeper rush of water from behind the bathroom door. The steady stream of the shower should have been soothing. Instead, it only made you more aware of him. Aki. Just a wall away.
You turned toward the window, if only to distract yourself.
The curtains had been drawn to showcase the view, and it was a view worth pausing for. The city stretched out, streets glittering with headlights that streaked past in ribbons of red and white. Neon signs pulsed against the dark, broken occasionally by taller silhouettes of glass and steel. In the reflection, your face stared back, smudged with exhaustion, softened by the glow.
The rain was starting again. It hadn’t been more than a drizzle when you left the car, but now it pressed harder against the glass, the drops forming streaks that blurred the city lights into watercolor.
You leaned your forehead gently against the cool pane, closing your eyes.
One bed.
The thought circled back, unrelenting.
Of all the possible arrangements, of all of the ways things could’ve worked out, of course this was how it had to be. You cursed Himeno in your head, though some part of you knew she hadn’t done it entirely by accident. She liked to push, to prod, to stir things that might otherwise stay buried. And maybe she thought she was being clever, pairing you off, giving you an opportunity you’d never take yourself.
But she didn’t have to live in the skin of it. She didn’t have to sit with this tightness in her chest, the nervous awareness of every little detail: the sound of running water, the fact that Aki was right there…
You shifted away from the window, arms crossing over your chest. No use getting lost in that.
The steam was starting to seep from the bathroom, curling faintly at the corners of the mirror across the room. It fogged the edges, warping your reflection into something unrecognizable. You hated that it mirrored how you felt – blurry, muddled, not quite yourself.
You tried to focus on anything else. The ridiculous towel swans perched on the duvet, their curved necks touching in a heart. The unopened bottle of Merlot left with two glasses, like the hotel was mocking you. The silence of the room beyond the muffled water, pressing in so thick it almost had weight.
Your thoughts spun out in too many directions. What if he insisted again about the bed? What if he argued until you had no choice but to give in? What if you woke in the middle of the night, both of you too aware of the other’s presence? The possibilities all ended in the same place – your heart racing, your chest aching, your mind refusing to quiet.
You rubbed your hands down your face, frustrated with yourself.
It was just one night. People shared rooms all the time. It didn’t mean anything. You could survive this without losing your composure.
But then you thought of him again. His voice was low, steady, even when he was irritated. His eyes were sharp but softened by exhaustion. The image of his shoulders tense beneath his coat as he’d argued with Himeno, fighting for something as simple as more space, as if even that was his responsibility to shoulder.
You pressed your palm against the cool glass once more, grounding yourself.
It didn’t matter. You wouldn’t let it matter.
Still, when the water shut off, your body went rigid. The silence that followed was even heavier than before, broken only by the faint scuff of feet against tile. The bathroom door clicked open, and a wave of steam spilled into the room.
Instead of looking back (like the more perverted part of you desperately wanted to), you kept your eyes out the window, trained on the view and definitely not the blurry reflection of his shadow in the window. The rain beat down against the clear panes, cooling your head.
“It’s coming down hard out there now,” You huffed out, breath fogging the glass. “Himeno was right. We would have been out there with no gas in the rain.”
The sound of a bag rustling behind you beckoned your attention. When you turned around, there he was, all six-feet-three-inches of your partner. He was damn near naked, wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist. His chest was bare, and you couldn’t peel your eyes away – again, you weren’t blind. The guy was fucking chiseled, well-defined muscles lining his scarred frame, and you observed him with a strange sort of hunger. Your eyes focused on a droplet of water that trickled down the swell of his broad chest, dripped down his abs and disappeared below the towel around his waist.
Holy fucking shit.
Aki scooped his damp, dark hair into the palm of his hand, slicking it back and out of his pretty face. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
You swallowed, licked your lips, and maybe it was just your hormones talking, but the temperature in the room seemed to climb a couple of notches. “Right,” You cleared your throat, peeling your eyes away from him. “Thanks.”
You weren’t looking. No, you definitely weren’t looking, which is why it was so strange that your mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of fucking cotton.
Instead of unpacking what that was about, you plucked one of the neatly folded robes off of the bed and tossed it over your shoulder, casting your gaze to the carpeted floor and walking past him.
You closed the bathroom door quietly behind you, like you were scared to disrupt him, to make any sort of noise that indicated you were feeling any differently than you had been a few months prior, before these thoughts of yours had started.
The second you twisted the knob, steam filled the little space, curling against the mirror until it blurred your reflection into nothing. You stepped beneath the spray and tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the first rush of hot water slammed over you. It was almost too hot, almost painful, but that was what you wanted… something to burn away the grime and tension of the mission.
When you reached up to work the shampoo into your hair, a faint pink tint swirled down with the suds. You stilled, fingers pausing at your scalp, and watched as the water carried it away, diluted it, spun it into nothing more than a whisper of red before it vanished into the drain. Blood. Leftover, clinging to you from earlier, soaked deep into strands and hidden against your scalp.
The sight should not have unnerved you. It was part of the job. Every devil left some piece of itself behind. But standing there, watching the water run red, it felt… different than your post mission showers normally did.
And, no, it wasn’t the hotel shampoo.
You thought of Aki again, the way he had stepped in front of you without hesitation when things went bad, the way his blade had cut through air and gore like it was second nature. The way he always put himself in the line first, as if his body were nothing more than a shield for the rest of you to hide behind.
Always the hero, even at the cost of his own life.
You pressed your fingers into your scalp, scrubbing until it stung. If you could just get clean – if you could just make the blood go away – maybe you could stop thinking about him like that. But even when the water finally ran clear, even when you had rinsed it all away, his face lingered, carved sharp in your mind.
Because he was perfect. The fact of the matter was that he was everything you could have wanted in a man. The fact that you couldn’t have him – even just a taste of him – pained you.
Gently, you lathered up your breasts, being sure to clean your nipple piercings with care. They weren’t new, not by any stretch – about three years old, in fact – but they were sensitive. Himeno had dared you to do them on a whim, and you had lost a bet.
You finished quickly, moving through the rest of your routine in a haze. Soap, conditioner, rinse. By the time you shut off the water, your skin was flushed pink from heat and your lungs felt heavy with steam.
Okay. This is normal.
It’s not like we’re naked, we just… don’t have pajamas.
Yeah. That’s it.
You towelled yourself dry in silence, dragging lotion across your arms and legs in deliberate strokes, like the ritual itself might anchor you back into your own body. Then you shrugged into the robe hanging on the back of the door and cinched it tight, tying the belt in a knot you didn’t trust your shaking hands to undo anytime soon.
When you finally stepped out, the hotel room was dim, shadows softened by the glow of the city bleeding in through the windows.
You spotted him instantly. Aki was outside, on the balcony, leaning against the railing, a cigarette caught between two fingers. The robe he wore hung loosely off his shoulders, the fabric belted low on his hips.
Be strong. You froze for a second too long, breath hitching before you forced yourself forward.
He’s off limits.
Crossing the room, you passed behind him on your way to the balcony. And, no, you didn’t gawk. You absolutely did not let your eyes linger on the broad line of his back, the muscles shifting beneath the robe when he lifted his arm to take another drag. You didn’t think about how solid he looked, how steady, how everything about him seemed carved out of something like stone, and fuck…
You kept your eyes forward. Definitely.
Still, your pulse fluttered like it hadn’t gotten the memo.
“I’m done,” you said softly as you slid the glass door open, stepping into the night air beside him.
Aki exhaled a plume of smoke, eyes tracking the storm beyond the balcony. “I was beginning to think you died in there,” he murmured, voice even, almost indifferent.
“Shut up,” You sighed. “You’ve only got so much hair to wash.”
It was colder out there, for sure, but you could feel the warmth radiating off of him in waves, and that was more than enough for you. You joined him, leaning against the balcony like you weren’t ogling him only a minute prior. Your eyes dropped down to the calm city streets below, to the gentle movement of traffic.
“Just think. Somewhere in this hotel, Himeno and Denji are probably wrangling Power into the bathtub,” You commented, nudging his shoulder with yours.
I’m trying really hard to not focus on how strange this is.
He huffed out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Never thought about it that way.”
A gust of wind blew in from below, gently moving his hair. He looked prettier with it down, if that were even possible. It felt as if – the moment that damned ponytail came up, it was all strict business. Now, when it was just the two of you out there where no one else could see you, away from the devils, the city, all of it, the air felt thicker. He looked younger, calmer, and the dark strands framed his face like it was intentional.
He took your breath away.
“I think I’m so used to the chaos of their company that I almost… forgot what it felt like to not have to deal with it,” He added after a beat. His eyes flickered between a neighboring building and your face, sapphire pools catching the light of the moon just right.
“She’s doing you a favor, believe me,” You said, clapping a hand down on your partner’s shoulder. “What do you say we crack open that bottle of wine and relax inside?”
He sighed again, shoulders dropping with the weight of it, “God, I could use a drink.”
He moved quickly after that, stubbing his cigarette out on the railing and flicking it out over the balcony. The two of you stepped inside of the room, closing the sliding door once you were indoors.
Unceremoniously, you opened your arms and flopped onto the bed. The mattress was plush, soft, sinking beneath your weight. Fumbling around the nightstand, you reached for the TV remote and flicked it on.
In front of you, you heard the soft twist of metal against glass. Aki worked the cork out with steady hands, the faint pop sounding far louder than it should in the quiet. He poured with practiced ease, the deep red spilling into two glasses until the room smelled faintly of wine.
He crossed the room and handed you one, his fingers brushing yours for half a second longer than necessary. You clinked them together with a small grin.
“Think they got any good movies on here?” you asked, flipping through the bland hotel channel menu, most of it pay-per-view garbage.
Aki settled onto the bed next to you with his own glass. He was a respectable distance away, of course, keeping a foot between the two of you and settling for leaning up against the headboard instead of laying down. There was a clear barrier between your body and his. A line that you weren’t ballsy enough to cross.
Still, it would have been so easy to reach over and…
He took a sip, the lamplight catching the flush of exhaustion still high on his cheekbones.
But your eyes stayed on the flickering TV, because looking too long at him in that quiet, dim-lit room felt… dangerous. He was remarkably beautiful, even now. The kind of pretty that made your heart ache – boyish features weighed down by years of stress, dark hair still damp from the shower, framing his face. From here, you could see the faint quirk in his lip as he grimaced at the taste of the wine.
“Doubt it,” he muttered, completely unaware of your plight. “You’re hard to please.”
When he relaxed against the headboard, slouched over ever-so-slightly, the fabric of his robe shifted over his chest, giving way to a glimpse of more skin. Despite feeling like an amish man, you reeled it in, trying not to stare at him.
Because, shit, you could think of one thing that would please you quite easily.
Don’t be stupid.
A laugh spilled forth from your lips before you could stop it – at his comment, at your thoughts, at the absurdity of this whole entire situation. You wound up clicking on some movie you only vaguely recognized the name of, deciding to hope that it would make a worthwhile distraction. If you kept your eyes on the screen, maybe you wouldn’t have to look at Aki. Maybe then your heart would stop its incessant racing.
“We should make a toast,” You commented, watching the black screen fade into starting credits. You swished the wine around in your glass mindlessly.
Aki didn’t look away from the television screen when he hummed, “Mission’s not finished yet.”
“So what?” You teased. Waving your glass around (rather haphazardly, considering the two of you were lounging on a pearly white bedspread and the wine was very red), you added, “Let’s toast… to… to not dying. How about that? A toast to one more day above ground?”
Shit, in Public Safety, every day above ground was something to toast to.
Aki chuckled tiredly, and it was single-handedly the most attractive thing you’d ever heard in your entire life. Still, he lifted his glass up. “To one more day above ground.”
Your glasses clinked when they met in the middle.
The food tray sat forgotten on the nightstand, a mess of half-eaten fries and skewered bits of chicken scattered like the remains of some small feast. Aki had ordered it without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you hadn’t argued. Drunk food always tasted better anyway.
Now, though, both your appetites had slowed. He was stretched out beside you on the bed, glass still in hand, his body sinking deeper into the mattress than you’d ever seen. Aki never really relaxed… at least, not around you, not in the way that counted, but tonight there was no mistaking it. His shoulders weren’t taut with tension, his jaw wasn’t set. His robe hung loose, the belt tied without much care, one edge falling open to expose the hard line of his chest.
You caught yourself staring. More than once. Okay, maybe even a handful of times. Hell, you were staring right now.
The wine had flushed his cheeks a soft pink, heat bleeding down his throat, and his eyes, normally so sharp, had softened into something half-lidded. He was drunk, though not nearly as much as you were. You could feel your head spinning slightly when you tried to sit up straighter, so you gave in and leaned back on the pillows instead, laughing at nothing in particular.
“You’re–” You snorted into your glass. “You’re way too composed. It’s not fair.”
Aki gave the wine in his glass a lazy swirl, watching the deep red catch the light. “Trust me. I’m feeling it.”
“Liar,” you shot back, nudging his leg with your knee. The contact lingered, neither of you moving away.
He didn’t answer immediately, just turned his head toward you, and for a moment the air went strangely quiet – just the faint hum of the TV. His gaze lingered long enough that you felt your face warm, though whether it was the alcohol or him, you couldn’t say.
For a moment, you had been able to forget about this whole… situation. You. Him. Two bottles of wine deep, sprawled out on a bed wearing only robes. It was ridiculous, by all means, and far too intimate of a predicament to be in with your supervisor.
Yet, there you were.
And when the screen flickered to another scene in the film
And when the screen flickered to another scene in the film, you blinked up at it – then promptly choked on your sip of wine. Of course. A sex scene. The volume wasn’t even that high, but the moans still filled the room, echoing around the pristine hotel walls, and suddenly it felt like the air had thickened.
You shot Aki a sideways glance, but he was already trying very hard to look anywhere but the TV. His lips pressed together, his jaw tight, like if he didn’t move a muscle the moment would pass unnoticed.
It was so awkward you had to say something. Anything.
“She’s so faking it,” you blurted, gesturing toward the screen with your glass.
That got him. His mouth twitched, and then he snorted softly. “No shit. We’re not watching a porno.”
“You’re acting like girls don’t fake it in the pornos, too,” You giggled softly, “Hell, I’ve faked it before.”
Aki tilted his head, tufts of raven hair falling into his face as he did so. “Why bother?”
“Saves time,” You shrugged noncommittally. Pausing, you took a sip. “And ego.”
“Yours or theirs?” He sighed. In his hand, he swished the glass of wine around. You watched the blood red liquid lap at the sides, never quite daring to spill over. Controlled, just like everything else he did. His blue eyes were hazy, half-lidded, “I think… if I knew a girl had to fake it just to save my ego, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. I’d rather she just tell me it sucked.”
“Happens more often than you’d think,” You noted with a hum. Shifting your weight onto your side, you adjusted your body until you were fully facing him. Until the moans and clatter on the television screen faded into the background. “Most guys don’t even know what the clit is.”
It was too much. Far too much. You had crossed a line. That much was evident in the way Aki, who had just taken a sip of his wine, promptly choked on the liquid.
You probably should have apologized for being so crass in front of your boss. However, given the fact that you were inebriated, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “What? We’re all adults here.”
Great. Just dig the hole deeper, why don’t you?
“God, this is wrong. It’s… it’s completely inappropriate,” Aki rolled onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. “You and I shouldn’t be in the same room… let alone the same bed. We shouldn’t be drinking, and we sure as hell shouldn’t be talking about anatomy.”
“Probably not,” You laughed. The world seemed to sway a bit when you did. “You’re one of those guys, aren’t you?”
You should probably stop asking him that.
“We should be following protocol,” He added, as if that would stop the onslaught of questions pouring from your mouth. “You should be asleep and I should be over there on the floor. Maybe even the bathtub. As far away from you as a captain should be.”
“You should be answering my question,” You tapped a finger against your glass impatiently. “...Unless you’re a virgin, captain.”
You’re gonna get fired. You thought.
But he didn’t fire you. Instead, he actually humored you.
Talk about how inappropriate that comment was and how theres a moment of silence where she holds her breath cuz she knows its out of pocket, but to her surprise aki answers her.
The words hung between you like smoke, heavier the longer the silence stretched.
Your heart stuttered, realization dawning far too late that you had just crossed a line. A dangerous one. Talking to your superior like that? In a hotel room, half-drunk, in robes? You might as well have signed your resignation letter on the dotted line. You swallowed, fighting the urge to backpedal, waiting for the reprimand, the sharp rebuke – maybe even the cold dismissal.
But none came.
Instead, Aki only looked at you. His eyes flickered briefly over your face, unreadable, the kind of silence that made your chest ache from holding your breath.
Then, slowly, he quirked a brow. “Definitely wouldn’t use that word to describe me,” he said at last, his voice dry, tinged with the faintest thread of humor. His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Involuntarily celibate, maybe.”
He’s not a virgin.
You weren’t sure why the confession made you feel so strange. It’s not that you particularly expected him to have held off this long. Hell, he was 22. He was drop-dead gorgeous. You weren’t stupid.
Still, the image of Aki’s lips on another woman’s neck, his hands reaching down beneath her skirt…
Fuck. It confused you. You didn’t know whether you wanted to know more or close your ears and pretend you hadn’t heard any of it.
Still, you supposed you had been the one to breach the subject…
“Ha! I barely even have time to clean with all of this gun devil shit. The last thing I need is to get in bed and have to fake a good time with a guy I barely know,” You laughed aloud. “But you? I’m surprised.”
“About what?” He asked.
“About you being celibate,” You said. “You’re pretty enough. I’m surprised you don’t get more play.”
This whole conversation is ridiculous and should stop.
“It’s not that,” He corrected you, eyes following a crack in the paint on the ceiling. “Believe me when I tell you I’ve gotten more letters from secret admirers in my office mailbox than I’m willing to admit. I’m just not interested.”
You tilted your head, wine loosening your tongue. “You gay?”
His head turned sharply, eyes snapping to you, and the look he gave had you laughing before you could help it. Loud, unrestrained, spilling out of you as though it might cover how reckless that question had been.
And then, suddenly, he moved.
One second you were still laughing, the next his hand was brushing over your shoulder, catching the loose edge of your robe. He tugged it back into place with an uncharacteristic gentleness, straightening the fabric where it had slipped open.
Oh.
You froze.
The laughter died in your throat, leaving only the deafening silence that followed. He didn’t look away this time. His hand lingered just a beat too long on the knot at your waist, and when his eyes finally met yours, steady and unblinking, you forgot how to breathe.
The pause stretched, fragile and thin, and the air between you seemed to shift, thicken, like you were both suddenly too aware of how close you were, of the heat bleeding between you.
And then, just as abruptly, he cleared his throat and pulled back.
“It’s the same way for me,” he said quietly. “I haven’t found anyone worth keeping around. Maybe that’s harsh, I don’t know. Most girls I’ve gone out with have been… painfully boring. That, or they expect me to fall in love with them after one night.”
I hope I don’t bore him, You thought. Truthfully, though, you kept him on his toes enough to know that that simply wasn’t true.
No, you knew you stressed him the fuck out.
“From my experience, it’s usually the guys who can’t keep up a conversation,” You noted. Truthfully, you had carried more dates on your back than you were willing to admit.
“We’re… holding a conversation right now, aren’t we?” He replied.
“Yeah, but you’re different.”
“How so?”
You’re so different, you don’t even know it. You thought. So different, in fact, that you hadn’t been able to look another man in the eyes since your… strange feelings towards Aki started.
Why? Well, because no one compared. No, in every pair of easy eyes, he was there. His ocean blue irises. His stern expression. His deep, commanding voice.
That was exactly the problem. In every man you tried to meet, every time you even tried to get the tension off, he was there.
Your eyes betrayed you, dropping down to the small patch of skin his robe revealed, to the dog tag necklace that rested on his chest.
“I don’t know, we just know each other well. We’re partners,” You waved your hand around in the air. “Maybe you’re just one of those guys who needs to really get to know someone before you feel comfortable around them.”
Aki quirked a perfectly arched brow at your words. “You telling me to fuck a friend?”
I mean, shitttt… You thought. It was depraved, of course, but something about the way the word fuck rolled off his tongue…
Dangerous.
“No, just someone you know,” You replied easily. “And I’m not used to hearing you use such debauched language, Captain. Watch your mouth, please.”
The conversation was breaching uncharted territory. You knew that. But, fuck, you couldn’t help yourself.
“Fuck off. You started it,” He took one final sip of his wine, then set the empty glass on the nightstand. “Plus, I don’t know many people who would want to get that involved with a Public Safety Officer. We’re good for one night stands, and that’s about it. Can’t have anything too permanent.”
“True that,” You stretched with a tired yawn. “We should probably stick to our kind, but that would get messy real fast.”
“Very,” he replied. “That’s Himeno’s thing. Not mine.”
You turned your gaze back to the TV, not sure why you felt compelled to keep talking, to keep spilling. The sex scene was over, the two characters now lying in bed together, but the words kept coming anyway.
“That reminds me,” you said before you could stop yourself, “…I hooked up with this guy once who told me my head was bad.”
Aki arched that perfect brow, his expression deadpan. “He actually said that?”
You’re telling me.
“Yeah. Out loud. It’s always the dudes with trash game, too. Like, when I tell you he was biting me…” You polished off the rest of your own glass in one swig. “And then he had the nerve to tell me I was using too much teeth.”
“That’s audacious,” He uttered, and for a second, the words were just words – but there was a quiet weight to them, like he was thinking too much about it.
A beat of silence followed. The TV flickered, the movie continuing on-screen, but neither of you really watched. You knew it, and he knew it… you were avoiding something, tiptoeing around it in the dim hotel light.
Then, to your surprise, he added more. Lower this time, almost offhand, almost to himself: “I feel like going down on a girl would be easier than giving a blowjob.”
You froze mid-breath, eyes darting to the TV as though it could shield you from the words, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you. “…You’ve never gone… down?”
No response.
“…You’re kidding. A guy like you? Never?”
“Don’t start,” he snapped, but not harshly. More like warning you not to pry further. “Most of my escapades have been… rushed.”
Your mind spun. Rushed, sure– but… “You could still give her something,” you murmured, before you could stop yourself. The words slipped out, soft, teasing, almost dangerous.
For a second, he looked at you, and something flickered in his gaze. That rare, unguarded side of him that came out only when you pushed just enough, only when the world outside wasn’t watching.
“Trust me, I do,” He answered, and for a moment, you swore his voice dropped just a notch. You swore you saw his eyes betray him, glancing down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. “But I guess you never know when someone’s faking it, do you?”
The words were enough to make you fucking bristle.
I cannot be imagining this tension.
“A lady shouldn’t have to ask for head,” You retorted.
“You try doing that when you have someone begging you to cut to the chase and give them what they want,” He answered right back. “Doesn’t mean I don’t give them theirs first. It’s all about how you use it.”
Your stomach clenched at the words. Yours first? You swallowed against the sudden heat rising to your cheeks, your mind flickering to images you weren’t supposed to be thinking about. You pictured him above you, the memory – or maybe the fantasy – playing like a private movie behind your eyes, and you felt your pulse spike.
God, you could picture him using it.
Yeah, his words paint a vivid image.
“You seem to have a high turnover rate,” you teased, pushing your words out with more confidence than you felt. “You sure you’re as good as you think?”
The grin that took over his face wasn’t quick. It was slow – perhaps a little tipsy, a subtle expression that graced his lips. Then, teasingly, he retorted, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Whatever,” you muttered to yourself.
It was not whatever.
You shifted, letting your arm stretch toward the nightstand. As you leaned over, your robe shifted just slightly, brushing against your skin in a way that made you hyperaware of him. You checked your phone, pretending that was the only reason for bending like that, but your gaze flicked up just enough to catch the faint trace of his eyes lingering – more than lingering – across your chest. More specifically, at the piercing bumps poking through the fabric.
He’s looking at my nipple piercings.
Before you could stop yourself, words tumbled out: “Do you want to see them?”
He blinked, almost caught off guard. “See what?”
“My piercings,” You added, as if that should have been obvious. (It should have).
Then, voice low and measured, a flicker of amusement in his tone: “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve just… I didn’t even know you could have piercings there.”
Heat pooled, your pulse jumping. You leaned back slightly, letting the robe settle but keeping just enough control to let him know you’d noticed the stare without giving away more than you meant to. The tension between you didn’t dissipate, though. It fucking thickened, charged with something you were a little too drunk to name.
And neither of you was making the slightest effort to stop it.
Oh, fuck it, you only live once.
“Give me your hand,” you said, voice low, teasing, letting the words slip out before your brain could intervene. You didn’t look at him directly, eyes tracing the shadowed corners of the hotel room instead, pretending the TV flicker was what kept your attention. But your chest tightened the moment his gaze flicked toward you.
“No,” he replied immediately, sharp, unyielding. The word sounded like a warning, but it only made your pulse spike.
“Gimme your hand,” you said again, a little firmer, a little bolder.
“This violates protocol. You know that, right?” he said, voice calm but carrying that unmistakable edge that made you bite back a laugh.
“I do,” you admitted, letting your lips curl into a smirk before you moved. Slowly, deliberately, you guided his hand into place – into your robe, letting it brush against your breast, ignoring the rapid beat of your own pulse. The moment his fingers touched your skin, a jolt ran through you, sudden and electric.
But he didn’t pull away.
His hand was gentle at first, almost careful, testing boundaries without crossing them. You felt the warmth radiating from him, the subtle pressure of his fingers against your piercing, his hand hot and warm against your skin. Your nipple stiffened up beneath his touch almost immediately, something you weren’t exactly proud of.
Why is this happening? you thought. It’s not supposed to feel so sensitive.
“Does...” he swallowed softly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, voice laced with a kind of hesitance you rarely saw. “Does it hurt?”
“No…” you trailed off, your voice barely audible, and you found yourself looking at him instead of the TV, even though you knew you shouldn’t. His eyes caught yours, steady, unwavering, and for a moment, everything else – the light, the shadows, the sound of the air conditioner – faded.
And he wouldn’t stop looking at you, peering into your eyes like he was trying to pick you apart piece by piece.
You leaned closer, just slightly, the air between you taut with unspoken electricity. “Can I tell you something?” you murmured.
“Yeah…” he breathed, barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on you with that rare intensity that made your stomach flip.
“I’ve always thought you were… so fucking sexy. You know that?”
There. You said it. And the words hung between you, heavy and undeniable. Your stomach clenched, your chest felt too tight, and for a fleeting second, you wished you could take it back – but you didn’t.
His hand lingered. He hadn’t moved it, hadn’t pulled away, and every second it stayed there sent heat crawling along your skin, your pulse thrumming in rhythm with the dangerous tension between you.
But, then, wordlessly, his thumb caught on your piercing, brushing over your nipple in a way that was anything but accidental.
Oh, God, You shivered slightly, almost involuntarily, and the sound escaped your lips – a soft, shuddering noise you didn’t even realize you’d made.
“Fuck,” He jerked his hand back like he’d been burned, eyes wide and unfocused for a moment, but tinged with hunger. “We shouldn’t… this isn’t…”
“Aki, it’s okay,” you whispered, the words soft, steady, but firm enough to coax him. You leaned a little closer, daring, letting him see the challenge in your eyes, the teasing edge to your tone.
“If you think this is okay, then I have serious concerns about your relationship with authority,” He sighed, shaking his head, almost to himself. “I’m your supervisor.”
“You’re also hard,” you said, barely a murmur, teasing, daring, letting the words brush against the thin veil of propriety between you. As if to emphasize your point, you let your hand drop down to the tent that had begun to form at the front of his robe.
There’s no way this is really happening.
He blinked at you, as if startled by the movement – a little pent up, if anything, but he didn’t pull away. “Two things can be true at once,” he said, voice rougher now.
“I think I like the one poking my leg more,” You grinned. You leaned a little closer again, heart thudding in your chest. “Could I… help you take care of it?” Your voice was soft, but your grin betrayed you.
“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” he said, tone warning, but you could hear the slight catch in his breath. His hand hovered, almost hesitant, over the space between you, and it made the air crackle with anticipation.
You saw it, now. He was just as repressed as you were.
“Has trouble ever looked this good?” you murmured, voice teasing, letting your eyes roam his face just long enough to watch the reaction flicker across his features.
“I don’t think I want Little Miss Trouble to bite my dick off,” he joked. You let out a quiet, breathy laugh.
“I just wasn’t… enthusiastic enough that time,” you murmured, voice low, teasing, but you were already crawling onto your hands and knees, already lowering yourself.
And he let you. He watched you with wide, dilated pupils as you crawled down the bed, nuzzling your head shamelessly into his crotch before looking up at him for approval.
You always had been a horny drunk. Still, you figured you would rather regret it in the morning.
“I’ll be good,” You cooed, “Promise. All you have to do is teach me.”
“We’re just drunk. You’re gonna get us in trouble.” His voice was low, steady, but you caught the catch in it, the way it stuttered just slightly like he didn’t fully believe what he was saying. His hand hovered, not quite touching, caught between restraint and need.
“Only if someone finds out,” you murmured, tilting your head, watching him too closely, savoring the shift in his expression. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, running his tongue across his teeth like he needed something to bite down on. His gaze flicked away toward the ceiling before snapping back to you. “Fuck, this is a horrible idea.”
You grinned, emboldened by the fracture in his resolve, and reached for the belt of his robe, fingers brushing over the fabric. You didn’t even get the chance to tug… it was his hand that shot out, gripping your wrist firm enough to stop you.
“Aki–” you started, but then he tugged. Not enough to hurt, just enough to jolt you. Then he sat up, dragging you half with him before letting go and standing.
You fell back against the pillows, wide-eyed, breathless, watching him.
“What…?” you began, but stopped yourself, the words dying when you saw the way he moved. He wasn’t leaving. He was deliberate, slow, fingers working at the knot in the front of his robe.
He came to the side of the bed, looking down at you with a gaze that pinned you in place. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling like he’d just fought off a losing battle. And then he spoke, voice rough, controlled, but edged with something dangerous.
“On your knees.”
The command made your stomach flip, heat rushing down your spine.
You blinked at him, lips parting, body already reacting before your mind could catch up. The sheets tangled around your legs as you slid down off the bed, the carpet cool against your knees. When you finally looked up at him, waiting, his hand tightened on the belt, knuckles pale.
“Teach me,” you breathed.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, softer this time, but no less sharp.
You peered up at him through your lashes, taking a moment to reel it in. He looked even prettier from below.
For a moment, he just looked at you. Then his free hand reached out, fingers sinking into your hair, tugging your head back just slightly until your breath hitched.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you’re ready to put your mouth to use,” He uttered, and the words made you squeeze your thighs together, nails biting into flesh like you needed something to hold onto.
His hand slipped out of your hair to cup your jaw, lift your gaze up. His thumb caressed your mouth, catching on your lower lip to tug it down ever-so-slightly.
A wicked grin crossed your lips as you reached for the belt of his robe, “Sir, yes, sir.”
And this time, as you peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, the fabric loosened under your fingers, parting just enough to tease the shape of what waited beneath.
Fuck, he’s bigger than I thought.
The breath caught in your throat. Awe flickered across your features, chasing away your grin for just a heartbeat as your eyes roamed lower. The sight of him made your stomach clench, a dizzying mix of nerves and hunger flooding your veins. Your hands slid down his stomach, his abs, his v-line, and then his thighs.
His hand lingered against your jaw, thumb still brushing your lip as though daring you to back down. “What’s wrong? Scared?” he teased, low and sharp, like he relished watching you falter.
You blinked up at him. Mama didn’t raise a bitch.
No, you could take him. All… god, what was that, nine inches?
Then, with a sudden bout of unwarranted boldness, you gripped him by the base of his cock, keeping eye contact the whole time.
He huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh, tugging at your lip once more while telling you, “Open your mouth.”
You did exactly that, parting your lips without so much as another thought to make room for the thumb that pushed its way in. On instinct, you flattened your tongue.
“That’s it. Good girl,” He appraised you with a quiet hum. Pushed his thumb in a little deeper, just up against the back of your tongue. “Suck on it.”
Mindlessly, perhaps, you followed his command. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking the digit into your mouth, coating it in your spit.
“You’re using teeth, pretty, open wider,” He leaned down a bit, staring down at you over the bridge of his nose like you were nothing. “Don’t make me pry it open for you.”
You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like it – the nicknames, the threat, the condescending look on his face… all of it.
Before you could protest, bite back with some petty retort, he slipped his thumb out and inserted two fingers instead. They were longer – long enough to make you gag when they practically slid down your throat.
“Wrap those lips tighter, you can do better than that,” He tutted gently. He pulled the digits out before pushing them back in. You wrapped your lips a little tighter around them, even as you felt drool spill out the corner of your lips, even as they reached deeper, deeper. “Tongue over your bottom teeth.”
He’s so mean.
The sound that came out of your mouth wasn’t something you were proud of – not quite a gag, not quite a moan, but something in between. Your chin was wet with spit as he slipped his fingers out of your mouth just to plunge them in again.
“Messy already?” He teased, “It’s just my fingers. I thought you wanted me to teach you?”
Cruel, so cruel, even as he fucked your mouth with his fingers, spread the digits open and closed them.
“Use your tongue. Come on, don’t be lazy,” He cooed, “It’s only a taste of what’s coming.”
The digits were heavy on your tongue – heavier when he pressed them down. Still, you obeyed him, hollowing your cheeks and working up a rhythm while you sucked them in and out of your mouth.
“You want some more baby?” he asks as she pulls his fingers out of her mouth
Baby, you thought. Holy fuck, I’m gonna pass out.
You adjusted, following his rhythm, cheeks hollowing, breath warming his skin. There was weight in the way he held you there – not just physical, but in the quiet authority he carried.
“Look at me.”
Your eyes snapped up to meet his. The intensity there nearly undid you; it wasn’t just dominance, but something like restrained hunger, thinly veiled behind composure.
“Don’t look away,” he said softly, almost like a warning.
He drew his hand back slightly, and your instinctive reach toward him made his mouth twitch in approval. Somewhere along the line, that careful control of his slipped. His breath caught, his jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, you could almost pretend you were sucking on something else.
“Keep going,” he murmured, voice lower now, rougher at the edges. “I didn’t say stop.”
Fuck, yes.
Feeling a little more confident than you probably should have, you sucked the digits in deeper, feeling them touch the back of your throat. The sensation was foreign – if you added up the size of every less-than-impressive man you’d been with, they probably still couldn’t compete. So, it should have come with no surprise that you gagged the moment they went too deep.
“Pathetic,” He tsked, withdrawing his fingers entirely. “If you can’t handle my fingers, then you definitely can’t handle the rest of me.”
To be frank, you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to impress him, but you did. It wasn’t just about learning. You wanted to prove him wrong – you wanted to do it.
So, naturally, you took the liberty of wrapping your hand around him once more, this time shifting yourself a little closer to him on your knees until your breath fanned out against his warm skin. You glanced up at him, up over the pale scars that marred his muscled skin, up through your lashes like you needed him. Then, slowly – like a cat approaching its prey – you leaned forward.
He quirked a brow, peering down at you like he had all night. Like nothing could phase him.
Well, that is, until you stuck your tongue out and licked a long stripe from the base to his tip, placing a kiss over his slit, keeping eye contact the whole time.
His chest rose. Fell, releasing a sigh.
Then, gruffly, he muttered, “Open your mouth.”
Uncertainly, you opened it.
“Wider,” He added, “Don’t make me tell you twice.”
You did exactly that. In fact, you weren’t the slightest bit ashamed as you parted your lips and stuck your tongue out, eagerly awaiting his command. You felt utterly obscene, in fact, but you had never felt prettier in your entire life than you felt beneath his domineering gaze.
Gripping the base, Aki placed the tip of his dick right on your tongue. For a moment, you just felt the weight of it, but before long, you were licking at it – collecting some of that salty precum onto your tongue and letting it melt into your tastebuds. It was real – a reminder that you weren’t making any of this up.
You flattened your tongue against the tip a few more times, content to lavish it with kitten licks until Aki told you otherwise. You looked up at him through your lashes, feeling as debauched as you were careless. Yet, still, there was something almost religious about the way he looked at you – pupils dilated, lips just slightly parted to make room for a trembling breath, face dusted with a pretty pink hue from your touch and the wine. You had long since abandoned the Catholic church, but, shit…
It was divine.
“That’s it, baby,” He cooed softly, reaching a hand down to tangle it in your hair. “Just the tip, just like that. Pretend it’s like an ice pop.”
It was so damn obscene. To think that such dirty words were pouring from your superior’s mouth and it was all your faultwas enough to have you pressing your thighs together.
You giggled, words slurred against his cock, “Like an ice pop?”
This time, you dared to wrap your lips around it, using the soft skin to tease him – all but making out with his cock. The reaction was instant: Aki whispered out a quiet, “Fuck,” beneath his breath.
It wasn’t loud, not by any means, but it was enough to spur you on. Before long, you were using lips and tongue – licking over the slit, sucking the tip into your mouth just enough for him to be able to feel your lips around him. More of that salty precum dripped out onto your tongue, only making it messier, but you were drunk on the taste of him.
Well, you were drunk, period, but that was besides the point.
Like an ice pop.
Gently, you licked the tip a few more times before sucking it into your mouth – like running your tongue up the shaft of a cold ice pop on a warm Summer day. When more of that sweet goodness melted off the top, dripping down over your fingers, you quickly lapped it up. To be frank, you weren’t sure where these skills were coming from – or if you were even doing it right, but he hadn’t said anything yet, and if the way he was looking at you was any sort of indicator…
“You’re doing such a good job,” He complimented you. “I’m gonna give you more, okay?”
Right, You thought. He was only one inch in.
Then, he was pushing his hips forward ever-so-slightly. Immediately, you felt the stretch of your lips as they tried to wrap around him, the sensation of his cock filling your mouth out like it was meant to stay there forever. Slowly, so slowly, he gave you more of him – more, more, until your eyes began to water. You weren’t proud of the way you gagged like a virgin.
“Take it deeper. All the way, don’t stop,” He breathed out, cupping your jaw and petting you with his thumb. “Take all of it.”
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.
Sorry Denji.
You tried, but you found yourself struggling to catch your breath. You’d never been with a man so well endowed before, and it was showing.
“Breathe through your nose,” He added, “Breathe.”
Shutting your eyes to focus, you tried to breathe in. Not through your mouth (obviously), but through your nose. It was a little tricky, but once you got the hang of it, you were good to go.
That is, until he startled you by giving you the rest of him, pushing in all the way until you gagged a second time – louder,too. Loud enough to echo.
Stop embarrassing yourself.
To your surprise, however, Aki didn’t seem to mind. No, if anything, he seemed to enjoy it. The thumb that had just been petting your cheek was now wiping the tears away from your eye. “You choking already?” He hummed at you. “You asked for this, remember? Eyes up.”
His words were starting to get to you. He was stern on the battlefield, so you supposed you should have known he would be stern in the bedroom, but, still. There was just something about hearing pure sin coming from his mouth that made your core boil with desire, heat pooling deep in your gut.
“Eyes on me,” He reiterated. This time, you listened, craning your neck back a bit so you could peer up at him through half-lidded eyes. The task proved to be quite difficult. “Don’t you dare look away.”
For a moment, the two of you sat there, eyes locked, you didn’t move. Neither did he. There was nothing beyond this – beyond you and him, exploring each other’s bodies for the first time while a movie played on low on the TV. Nothing more than the way he was fucking looking at you – like you were everything. Hair loose in his face, eyes hazy with lust – It was enough to fill your stomach with butterflies.
You needed to please him.
“Don’t just sit there,” The faintest hint of a smirk graced his lips, “You can move.”
It was much easier before he had his dick shoved down your throat. But, still, like always, you wanted to try for him. Gently, not wanting to gag hard enough to puke, you moved your head back, then forth. Back, then forth again until you found a rhythm. You were struggling to fit all of him, but fuck, you were so turned on that your head was spinning. The look on his face was something you would have paid to see.
All the while, you maintained eye contact with him.
“That’s it, just like that,” He egged you on, and, fuck, the words carried you through the motions, tickled your fancy just fucking right.
You started slow, easing into it, careful not to rush. There had been a tremor beneath your skin, that mix of nerves and want that made your breath catch in the back of your throat. You pulled back, then pushed forward again, testing the rhythm until it settled into something steady, something that made your pulse thrum harder against your ribs.
Every movement drew a reaction out of him – quiet, subtle, but enough. The sharp inhale when you shifted just right. The slight tightening at his jaw. The way his gaze never faltered, locked on you like he was memorizing every second. It made your stomach twist, heat rising fast, dizzying.
You had looked up at him and stayed there, your eyes locked with his. There had been no room to hide in that stare. It pinned you, rooted you in place, and somehow pushed you forward all at once. He looked wrecked already, undone in a way that made your chest ache.
“Shit,” he breathed, low and deliberate, like he knew exactly what his voice did to you. The sound of it rolled through you, smooth and unhurried, coaxing you to keep going. So you did. You found your rhythm again – back, forth, back – and the air between you tightened, humming with something neither of you said aloud. Every time you sucked him back into your mouth, you went lower, lower.
It was the way he watched you that undid you most of all. Not the praise, not the tension – just that look.
Once you got the hang of it, you felt like a pro. The weight of him, the taste of him, the scent of the hotel’s bodywash still clinging to his skin – you tried committing all of it to memory. Tomorrow, this would all be a mistake, but right now?
Oh, it was anything but.
“Fuck, you got it,” He cooed breathlessly. You sped up just a little – hollowed your cheeks and created some suction while your tongue worked around him – and his head rolled back, exposing the column of his neck.
Before you knew it, Aki’s hand was gripping your hair by the end, wrapping it around his fist until he had it pulled taut in his fist. Then, once he had you, he began meeting you in the middle – thrusting his hips up just enough to slip in a little deeper.
Feeling another gag coming on, you reached for his thighs, digging your nails into them for support. One hand smoothed up over his hip, his v-line, trying to put some distance between you and him. He pulled your hand away before you could succeed, gripping you by the wrist.
He looked down at you. “Keep your hands down,” he commanded. “You don’t need them.”
It hurt. It hurt so good. Your lips were stretched around his cock, which kept on hitting the back of your throat over and over again. Your gagging did not seem to deter him whatsoever, and neither did the tears that streamed down your face while he fucked your mouth.
No, he reached down and wiped a tear away, breathing, “You know, I always thought you’d look better with your mouth full. Crying on it…” Then, leaning down just enough to taunt you, he added, “Fuckin’ perfect.”
He thinks I’m perfect.
While you were busy letting your face warm (and your core grow wetter) at the compliment, you hadn’t realized that you were getting lazy, teeth unintentionally grazing his shaft.
Immediately, you felt the hand in your hair tighten. Aki pulled your head back until he was out of your mouth entirely. Until you were craning your head up to look at him. A string of spit connected your lips to the head of his dick. Above you, the muscles in his forearm flexed – something you shamelessly noticed.
“What happened to being good, hm?” He asked. Then, adjusting his grip on your hair, he added, “Watch your teeth.”
As the seconds ticked by, you only grew more desperate – desperate to please him, desperate to make him cum. It wasn’t that you were growing tired (though, admittedly, your jaw hurt. Just… not enough to make you care).
Besides, those fucking sounds he was making. He was getting closer. You could tell – something about the way his breath shuddered every time you fit him all the way into your mouth, being sure to mind your teeth.
The two of you were working in perfect synchrony. You were sucking him off like your life depended on it, and he was spewing more of that filth from his mouth that drove you fucking crazy.
“Look at you,” He moaned gently, “‘S like you were fucking made for it. Feels good, having your mouth fucked, hm?”
Your response was a gurgle – something between a moan and “yes”. He grinned down at you like he couldn’t have been more fucking proud.
“Keep going,” he murmured, voice rough with something between restraint and satisfaction. “Put that pretty mouth to use.”
You blinked up at him, flushed, breath uneven.
He chuckled low. “You like being told what to do, don’t you?”
A small sound escaped you – half breath, half… something.
“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly. “You listen well with your mouth full of me. I should’ve done this sooner.”
You looked down at his abs, trying to quell the burning in your face, but there was no use.
His thumb brushed your chin, tilting your face up. “Keep it right there. Don’t hide from me.”
Another beat. His voice dropped to a near whisper, a smirk audible in it. “If only you obeyed orders this well out on the field.”
He wrapped your hair around his fist tighter – tight enough to make your eyes fucking water. Then, he was encouraging your movements, bobbing your head back and forth to his liking. At some point, it got hard to keep up, so you simply relaxed your jaw and let him use you however he pleased. Like you were made to take it.
There was drool seeping out of the corner of your lips, dripping down your chin. You didn’t care, and neither did he. For a while, the two of you were lost in song – in the symphony of hushed moans, pants, and the faint ‘gluck’ sound your throat made every time he thrust in.
It felt degrading. It felt humiliating, letting your captain use your mouth like a fucktoy, but you were so fucking into it. It felt like you were getting sucked off instead of him – every time you pressed your thighs together, you could feel the warmth coiling up your core, the jolt of pleasure shooting through your clit every time he whined out your name.
You let the tears stream down your cheeks freely, since he seemed to enjoy seeing them so much. In response, he reached down and wiped them away. You followed his hand as he brought it up to his face, to his lips…
Then his tongue as he eagerly lapped up your tears.
God, he’s the fucking devil.
As you looked up at him, you saw a man on the brink of shattering – saw the way his eyes fluttered open and shut, lips parted around a gasp as he stared down at the mess you were making all over his cock. Over the tearstained mess you had become.
“Shit,” He hissed, “You don’t even need my help.”
You flicked your tongue over the head of his dick. He whimpered, swaying slightly, like he was struggling to hold on.
Then, he broke.
“God– Fuck, I’m close,” he admitted, brows drawn together like it took everything he had to not finish right then and there.
He pulled out, popping his cock out of your mouth and leaving you high and dry while he wrapped a large hand around it. You admired him from below for a moment – admired the way his muscles shifted, tensed, pulled taut with pleasure while he stroked himself languidly. The veins in his hand were more prominent now, and fuck– it was like something straight out of the pornos.
He gave some special attention to the head, stroking and twisting until he was gasping. As much as you enjoyed the sight (which was a lot, and you told yourself you would tuck this one into your spank bank), you really wanted a mouthful of his kids, so you pulled his hands away and sucked him right back into your mouth.
“Shit– ah,” He panted out, replacing his hand in your hair and letting you go to work. “You want it– hah– that badly? You fucking need it?” The words dripped from his lips like fucking honey, but his voice was shaking, a notch deeper than you ever remembered it being.
Yes, you thought. Give me all of it.
I need it.
Aki licked his lips slowly, like a predator watching its prey. “Take it, baby, it’s all yours,” His lashes fluttered shut. “Shit, I think ‘m gonna cum–” He whimpered, tightening his grip, tensing up. “Fuck–”
The only thing better than the sound of him cumming was the taste of it. Bitter, salty, but real. Much sweeter than any other man you’d ever been with (though there had been very few). The warmth hit your tongue in thick spurts, coating your tongue, the inside of your mouth – filling you up until it dripped out of the corner.
And still, you swallowed all of it.
You needed to please him.
The two of you took a moment to regain your senses, to catch your breath. Now that your mouth was empty, you gasped for air – greedily sucking it down like a fish out of water. You didn’t even notice that you had gotten some of it on your face.
At least, not until you felt Aki’s hand slide down to cup your face again, swiping the cum onto his finger. He looked down at you with the sort of breathlessness you only saw in movies – like he truly was on another planet.
Then, he tugged your lip down, smearing some of his juices onto your lower lip. Without thinking twice, you leaned forward, looking up at him through your lashes as you sucked his thumb into your mouth. You cleaned it off with your tongue like an obedient, good girl.
Not a drop to waste.
“Let me see. You swallow all of it?” He asked.
In response, you opened wide and stuck your tongue out, letting him see just how much of it you’d swallowed. Then, you grinned – breathless and debauched, with kiss-swollen lips.
His thumb caressed your cheek gently, like you were made of porcelain. So, when he brought the hand down against the skin, slapping it light enough that it didn’t hurt, but just enough to make you choke on a moan.
“Good girl,” He panted, “Good fucking girl.”
Oh my god.
“You..” Your chest heaved as you struggled to breathe, “You’re fucking nasty, captain.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, reaching down and helping you to your (wobbly) feet. Then, before you could retort, he wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling you in close so that he could press his lips up to yours.
Your eyes widened. Is he really about to kiss me when I just swallowed his jizz?
He was. And he didn’t seem to give a damn about it. He maneuvered your head into an angle, licking at your lips for entry, and you wouldn’t dare to refuse him entry. So, there the two of you were, kissing – no, practically shoving your tongues down each other’s throats like a bunch of horny teens – while his fingers dug into your neck.
Maybe I’m lightheaded, you thought, But I think I’ll be able to die happy after this.
He guided you back, movements sure but not cruel, until the back of your knees met the edge of the bed. Then, he braced his hand on your chest and practically shoved you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft gasp, half dazed, staring up at him.
“What are you doing?” you breathed, voice almost lost.
His eyes stayed locked on yours, unreadable, a trace of that same teasing defiance in his tone as he crawled onto the bed.
“It’s a learning experience, right?” he said, burying his face into the crook of your neck and taking his sweet, precious time sucking on your sweet spot. “Teach me.”
You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or catch your breath. “Teach you what?”
He pulled back to smile down at you. “Teach me how to make you cum.”
I’m dead.
I died and went to heaven.
You opened your mouth, something fumbling, trying to explain, but the words felt impossible to form. You’d never… not like this. Your chest rose and fell, heart hammering as he tilted his head, watching you struggle to speak.
Gently, like he was scared you would bite – or maybe that he would – he slid his hands down your chest, down to the little bow you’d tied on the front of the robe. He hooked a digit beneath it, tugging just enough to make the fabric shift, but not enough for it to come loose.
His eyes – the color of the deep sea – bore into yours with a fiery passion. Before you could tell him you wouldn’t have made a good teacher because, despite running your mouth, you had never had your pussy eaten before, he was already asking, “Can I undo this?”
Wait. Let’s put the brakes on this.
I’ve never let a man–
“Yes,” You were breathing out before you could stop the words. You didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that the searing hot warmth in your belly seemed to drip down your core at the idea of him on his knees between your thighs.
And, just like that, you were letting his strong hands pinch the end of one of the tassels, tugging it until the whole bow came loose. Gravity did the rest of the work for him, making the fabric slide off of your breasts, fully revealing you to his ravenous gaze for the first time.
Your nakedness ran bone-deep, deeper than just surface-level. It wasn’t the lack of clothes that left you feeling vulnerable and bare. No, it was the way he was looking at you – not like any other hook up ever had, not like you were a quick, warm body, but like you were beautiful. Something that needed to be held, touched, revered. Like you were a canvas just waiting to be painted by his lips.
You watched his eyes trail over your entire body. Your lips, your chest, your pudgy belly, and then low enough to have your face burning.
He took another moment to appreciate your chest, hand reaching out like it was uncertain. “You know, maybe it’s because I’ve never stopped to admire before, but…” He trailed a finger down your sternum, stopping when he was right in the valley between your breasts. “You’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”
Me.
I’ve got the prettiest tits he’s ever seen. It was hard to not let that get to your head.
Instead, you turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze. The sex, you could handle. You could handle the thought of him fucking you into the mattress, eating you until you couldn’t stand. You couldn’t handle the idea that this… whatever this was… was anything more than a drunk mistake in the making.
His hand was gentle – warm, but firm – as it cupped your chest. He massaged the skin between his fingers like he had all night to do so. Then, right when you least expected it, he pinched your piercing between his fingers.
The reaction was immediate. You jolted up, eyes flying open as you gasped.
What the fuck was that?
He seemed to be more driven by genuine curiosity than anything else, if the way he asked, “Feel good?” while gently pinching, twisting, and rolling your nipple piercing beneath his fingertips was any indicator.
“Mhm,” You shuddered. With a particularly bold pinch, you arched your back off of the bed.
Aki braced his weight onto his arms, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, and you would have been lying if you said you didn’t take a moment to appreciate the well-earned muscles rippling beneath his skin. While he gently flattened his tongue over one sensitive bud, he rolled the other between his index finger and his thumb.
Oh my god. You thought. Every pinch, every lick went straight to your core, throbbing with pure need. The piercings certainly didn’t help. No, if anything, they only made you more sensitive.
“Aki,” You breathed out, voice breaking.
Aki’s eyes darted up at the sound of his name coming from your mouth – slivers of blue beneath the dim lighting – but he didn’t stop pleasing you. Not Captain. Not Hayakawa, but Aki.
The sensation was like anything you’d ever experienced, and if he was that much of a natural with your tits, you couldn’t imagine how he’d feel when he…
“Fuck,” You gasped.
You were dripping wet. You could feel it. Every time you shifted your hips up, tried to chase some of that friction, only to be met with nothing, you could feel it.
A moment later, Aki’s lips strayed from your chest. He began to trail lower, pressing a kiss to your ribs, your stomach, then a little lower. Blush bloomed wherever he kissed, blood vessels expanding beneath his delicate touch.
And then, just when you felt his warm lips brush up against your navel, felt his hands gently part your thighs like he was unwrapping a present, you stopped him. You reached a hand down and pushed back against his head.
“Aki, wait, I’ve never…” You trailed off, embarrassed by the admission.
Aki tilted his head at you. “What?”
“I’ve never had that… happen to me before,” You gritted out.
“That’s alright,” He shifted down on the bed, already lowering his head down between your thighs, “Just tell me what feels good.”
You stopped him again, “Aki, wait… I’m nervous. I don’t– I don’t think I can teach you.”
“I don’t know,” He teased, a wicked grin crossing his features. “With such a high turnover rate, I think you’re right. I need some instruction.”
Hayakawa, you petty bastard. You thought. Right when you were about to object, right when you were about to make some snide remark, you felt his breath – warm and gentle – up against the place you needed him the most. Felt his hands spread your legs further apart.
“Tell me how you like to be touched, tasted,” He breathed out once your dripping cunt was bared to him. Seemingly aware of the way you wiggled beneath his gaze, he puffed out a sharp gust of air right against your clit, one that made you squirm. Then, looking up at you through his lashes like he was hungry, he added, “How you like to be fucked. Teach me how to please you.”
Oh my god.
Am I getting laid tonight?
“You– You’ve got a potty mouth, sir,” You continued running your mouth, because that’s what you did best.
“Have I ever told you how much it turns me on when you call me that?” He grinned.
You thought of all the times you called him “sir” on the field. Of all the times he would turn away from you, a mysterious glint in his eye.
Yeah. That checked out.
“Shut up and lick me already,” You tutted.
To your surprise, he did exactly that, bringing his head close enough to flatten his tongue against your pussy and lick a long, hot stripe from the bottom to the top. You choked on a moan – louder than you appreciated.
Holy fucking shit.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” Aki licked his lips. “Don’t be shy, sensei, keep going.”
He’s thought about this before. I’m gonna pass out.
“Keep licking,” You commanded him. Gently, he obeyed, lavishing your pussy with soft kitten-licks. It was enough to have your legs trembling, toes curling into the sheets. “Yes, just like that–”
Aki kept up a languid pace, alternating between licking you up and down and focusing just on your clit. Slowly, his hands slid up the backs of your thighs, folding your legs in until they were pressed against your stomach. The angle shifted just enough that the sensations felt stronger.
You reached up above your head, tangling your fingers in the sheets, arching your back. “Oh god.”
He lingered lower, his breath tracing patterns along your skin – warm, teasing, impossibly gentle. Each pass made you shiver, not just from the sensation but from the way it rippled through you, sharp and tender at once. You felt your muscles tighten, a laugh nearly slipping out, but it dissolved into something quieter, a longing sigh of his name, “Aki…”
He moaned in response, keeping up the pace until you could feel the arousal dripping out of you.
“Put– Put your mouth on my… my clit,” You gasped out, too lost in the sensations to care about how debauched you sounded.
“Up… here…?” Aki played dumb with a coy little smile, moving his tongue up until the tip of it pressed right up against the most sensitive part of you. Then, without needing to be told twice, he sucked the nub into his mouth, wrapping his lips around it.
You threw your head back, feet coming up off the bed while he sucked on your clit like a fucking lollipop. Your eyes fluttered shut, rolled back, and your thighs quaked. Aki handled your legs with his hands, hooking them over his shoulders while he stayed glued to your pussy.
It was a life changing experience. It felt like he was undoing you bit by bit. His tongue was soft, then hard, and his mouth was so fucking warm that you couldn’t wrap your head around it.
“Tell me how it feels,” He panted, voice slurred against your skin.
You moaned, “Fuck, God, ‘s so good,” the sound high-pitched and loud. Loud enough to be heard over the movie, and you didn’t even care.
He spat on it, sucked on it, and the sound was so dirty that you worried someone could hear. Though, realistically, no one was hearing anything over the sinful whines and moans that his ministrations pulled from your chest.
He doesn’t need a fucking teacher, You thought. That was fucking bullshit.
It took a great deal of effort to actually speak. But, when you reached down and tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging with a cry of, “More,” the message got across.
He understood. Of course he did. He always did.
His movements slowed, deliberate, like he wanted to draw out the space between each breath, each touch. You could feel the steadiness in him – that quiet control that only made you fall further apart. The warmth of his breath ghosted across your aching cunt.
No, you weren’t in control. You never had been.
You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore – only that you needed him to stay like this, to keep on sucking you off the bone like he had nowhere else to be in the morning.
He lifted his head slightly, eyes meeting yours for a long, steady moment. You couldn’t read what he was thinking – only that he looked at you like you were something he shouldn’t touch but couldn’t stop himself from wanting to. His hand lingered where it had been, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles against your side, as if reminding you to breathe.
You swallowed, still breathless, your pulse unsteady. You were embarrassingly close, and he hadn’t even been eating you out for very long.
Then, he was teasing a finger up and down your entrance, slipping it inside with no resistance at all. Though not unwelcome, the intrusion caught you by surprise, making you arch your back up into him. He inserted another shortly after. The stretch only burned for a moment, but it was hard to focus on that when he was eating you so sweetly, so perfectly. His fingers pumped in and out of you at a slow pace. He crooked them up, searching around for your g-spot.
And, shit, when he found it…
“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair harder. Being stimulated with his mouth was one thing, but his fingers were another. They were long and thick, talented enough to find that place deep inside that made you fucking drip and stay there. “Oh my fucking god, I–”
This time, when you tugged at Aki’s hair, the sound he made in response startled you – low, unguarded, and real. It wasn’t the kind of noise you’d ever imagined he was capable of. It carried a rough edge that spoke of all the composure he’d been fighting to hold onto.
He’s kinky.
I love it.
He didn’t stop; he couldn’t. The rhythm of his lips shifted, his fingertips drawing slow shapes inside of you, gently undoing the strings of your orgasm second by second. It was all maddeningly tender – the kind of touch that wasn’t meant to take, but to learn.
You gasped, sobbing, “Aki–” through it, and felt his breath catch against your cunt as though he’d absorbed the sound into himself. The muscles in his shoulders moved with the rhythm of his breathing – steady, deliberate, but trembling faintly, like he was holding back.
When you looked down at him, his hair was a dark spill over your skin, and his eyes had gone soft – unfocused in that way that comes from wanting too much. You could see it, the strain in his expression, the way his jaw tightened every time you made another small sound.
Then, he reached up, using his free hand to toy with your piercing, and you were fucking screwed. When his fingers brushed against the small piece of metal in your nipple, the world tilted. The touch was featherlight, almost teasing, but it sent a pulse through you that made your breath stutter.
But that fleeting spark didn’t fade… it grew, rolling through you like a tide that wouldn’t stop. Each tiny touch combined with the stimulation to both your clit and your g-spot sent shockwaves you hadn’t expected, waves that built on one another, rising faster, sharper, until it seemed like your body couldn’t contain it.
“I think ‘m close,” You panted. Then, when more warmth pooled in your belly, you added. “Shit, I think I’m gonna cum–”
Aki didn’t answer, keeping up that same pace – not slower, not faster, but he moved with more purpose.
And then, there it was.
You gasped, shivering as every nerve lit up at once. Your fingers gripped the sheets harder, nails biting into the fabric, trying to hold yourself steady. Your stomach twisted, your ribs tingled, and for a moment the world narrowed to just the space between the two of you.
The waves didn’t come in one single rush, but in rolling surges, one after another. Each one left you breathless and trembling, your mind teetering on the edge of losing itself completely. Sounds slipped from your lips, half-words, half-gasped fragments, echoing in the room and pressing into him as you came hard.
The heat pooled low in your chest, spiraled up through your limbs, and rolled through every part of you, a crescendo of feeling that left you trembling, light-headed, and utterly undone. Your vision blurred at the edges, your senses narrowed to the press of his fingers, the warmth of his mouth, the soft, impossibly careful way he licked you through it.
When your orgasm finally receded, you sagged into the sheets, but he wasn’t finished with you.
You tried to pull back, every instinct in your body screaming that it was too much, that you couldn’t take another second. Your hands pressed against him lightly, but he didn’t move away. He stayed, licking, sucking, like he was doing it for his enjoyment.
Your chest heaved. Your muscles shook. “I can’t–” you squirmed, tears beginning to stream down your face from the sensation, but the words caught in your throat.
He didn’t pause. He just kept on eating you, like he couldn’t bear the thought of not tasting you. Even as your body screamed with sensitivity, even as you pushed lightly, lightly, against him, he held his ground. The quiet intensity in his eyes told you he didn’t want to stop.
But, eventually, he did.
By the time you finally sank against the sheets, breathless and trembling, it wasn’t just your body that had been pushed – it was everything. For a long moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak – only feel. Aki stayed there too, his forehead resting lightly against you, his breath hot and steady, letting you ride the aftermath with him. The room was quiet except for the sound of your shared breathing.
You looked down at him affectionately, wiping the tears from your eyes. He smiled back at you, breathlessly, face soakedwith your juices.
“Was I good?” He asked, but the shit-eating grin on his face told you that he already knew the answer.
You laughed slightly, still caught between pleasure and breathlessness. “It was alright, I guess,” you lied, voice shaky, your chest still tight from the intensity of what had just fucking happened.
He leaned closer, eyes dark with amusement and something unspoken. “Just alright? That won’t do,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I can make you feel even better than just alright.”
Your stomach fluttered at the words, your senses suddenly acute. His gaze held yours, commanding and magnetic.
“What are you suggesting, hmm?” You huffed, completely out of breath. “Surely not a violation of protocol.”
“Of course not,” He replied. “I’m suggesting that you turn around and put your hands against that headboard over there, if you think you can take a little more.”
You grinned, “Not sure there’s anything little about what you want to give me.”
That got a chuckle out of him.
Still, you obeyed, because you would be damned if you passed up on the opportunity you’d been waiting for. You rolled unceremoniously onto your stomach, shifting your weight onto your hands and knees. Then, crawling up the bed, you leaned back into the prettiest arch you could muster.
“There we go,” he said softly, and there was no hurry in his tone, only that quiet authority that made it impossible to resist. His hand came down hard against your ass, the sound reverberating through the room as his palm made contact with your skin. “Such an obedient slut, aren’t you?”
Why am I so into this? Your pulse spiked, your hands moving instinctively to brace against the headboard. He stayed close behind you, letting the anticipation stretch out.
“Why is this taking so long?” you asked, breath uneven, your pulse still racing.
He leaned in, close enough that the warmth of him brushed against your ear, voice low and smooth. “Patience,” He cooed, “If you want it, you’re gonna have to earn it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you protested, shaking your head, though your voice betrayed the tiniest tremor.
He leaned closer, voice low and deliberate, eyes glinting with that same teasing intensity. “I’m not giving you anything until you behave and ask nicely,” he said, letting the words stretch between you like a slow burn.
“What do you want me to do, beg?” you said, trying to keep your tone steady, but it came out uncertain.
His grin widened, a dangerous curve that made your pulse jump. “Exactly that,” he murmured. “Beg for it. Show me that you mean it. Beg me to fuck you.”
You swallowed hard, heart hammering. The air between you thickened, almost tangible, as if waiting for your next words. Your hands tightened instinctively against the headboard. “Please…,” you whispered, the single word trembling at first, “please… I need it…”
“Need what, pretty girl?” He teased.
“I…” You put your head down, shamefully admitting, “I need you to fuck me, sir.”
His eyes softened for the briefest second, but the teasing spark never left them. “Good,” he said, voice low, slow, savoring the sound. “Such a good girl. Move your hips back for me.”
Once you were situated the way he wanted you, he reached for something off to the side. Then, gently, he wrapped his discarded tie from earlier around one wrist, followed by the other. He wound the material in between, tying your hands together in front of you and, consequentially, forcing you down into a deeper arch.
His lips were on the back of your neck before you could ask him what he was doing, pressing tender kisses there like he was reveling in the tension. His kisses strayed, trailing down your neck, your spine, until they stopped just above your hips.
“You ever done it without a condom before?” He asked you, voice a whole lot deeper than you had anticipated. “Because I’m assuming you didn’t happen to bring any with you.”
“No, but I’m clean,” You wiggled your hips back.
“That’s not the only risk at hand here,” he chuckled.
“I know,” You replied. “Just pull out, okay? We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
“Famous last words. Fuck, this is a bad idea,” Aki paused, like he was debating whether or not this was a good idea. Then, as if making up his mind, he shifted his weight onto his knees behind you, lining himself up with your dripping hole until you could feel the tip pressed right up against you. “Take a deep breath in for me, okay?”
You exhaled the breath you were holding, then breathed another breath in. Out. In.
Out–
The feeling of Aki pushing in was enough to knock the wind out of you. He didn’t give you all of it – not yet. He gave you just enough for you to be able to feel the stretch. Your fingers dug into the sheets as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will the burn away.
“Just breathe, keep going,” He cooed, rubbing his thumb over your hip before he gave you a little more. “‘Atta girl.”
You couldn’t help the way you held your breath right up until his hips met your skin – right up until he was buried as deep inside of you as he could go, and the two of you moaned with relief at the exact same time.
After a moment, Aki asked, “You okay?”
“Mhm,” You nodded. “Just need a ‘min.”
Holy fucking shit, he’s big.
For a moment, everything stilled. The room felt quiet, broken only by the uneven rhythm of your breathing and the background noise of the movie you’d long since forgotten about. You kept your eyes shut, trying to steady the flutter in your chest, grounding yourself.
He didn’t rush you; his hand stayed firm against your hip, waiting, patient, steady as stone.
You inhaled, slow and trembling, until the tension, the stretch, started to melt away. When you finally found your voice again, it came out soft, barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” you murmured, opening your eyes. “You can move.”
He didn’t speak right away – just let out a slow exhale, like he’d been holding his breath, too. Then, slowly, he pulled out just a bit. This time, when he rolled his hips into yours, you clenched down on him – the bizarre mix of pleasure and pain was hard to digest.
Out, then in. Out, then in.
“Don’t tense up. I got you,” He breathed out, the words trembling as they fell from his lips, “You can take it.”
That was all it took. Just like that, the pain melted away, replaced by something beautiful – something truly unexpected. The kind of pleasure you’d only dreamt about when dealing with guys of… smaller stature.
“Oh God,” You gasped out. Your chest felt like it was on fire – a slow, deep warmth that crept down your stomach and into your core, spread across your face. It was the strangest thing. Each time Aki rolled his hips into yours, each time his dick slipped against your inner walls, the sensation was overwhelming – a stretch, a sharp jolt of pleasure. A warm, rippling feeling that rolled over you in waves.
“There you go, just like that,” He exhaled, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
That’s an understatement. When he thrust his full length into you again, your eyes damn near rolled back into your skull. The steady, low moans that poured from your mouth were purely pornographic.
“Look at you,” He commented, bringing his hands down your back to settle on your hips as he drew out, pushed back in. “Falling apart already, and I’ve barely even started with you.”
“Fuck me–” You practically sobbed into the pillow, “Faster, please–”
“Yeah?” He panted, “Think you can take it?”
“I can– fuck, ‘promise–” You begged him shamelessly, rutting your hips back to get a little more of that delicioussensation, chasing the promise of pleasure, meeting his strokes in the middle.
You gasped when something hit your ass – hard. A hand.
“I never said you could move,” He reprimanded you. “I’ll take care of you. Just relax.”
“Hah,” You gasped. You wanted to reach back, to hold his hand, something, but you couldn’t. Your hands were (literally) tied.
The slick dripping down the back of your thighs made it easy for him to slip in and out of you at a maddening pace. He sped up when he felt like it, driving his hips into you a little faster. Not hard, but faster.
You gripped the sheets, practically melting at the feeling, “Aki– fuck…”
He groaned at the sound of his name, adjusting his grip on your hips like he had been holding back for you. “Shit, you feel fucking amazing.”
Your body trembled beneath his touch, the air between you thick and charged. Every movement, every breath felt drawn out, deliberate. His voice dropped lower, gravel roughened by restraint he was barely holding onto.
“You like when I talk to you like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear. You swallowed hard, unable to trust your own voice, but the answer was already written all over you – in the way you couldn’t stay still, in how your body betrayed you.
He huffed out a laugh, the sound dark and soft. “Can’t even hide it. You’re shaking, pretty girl.” His hand traced the edge of your spine, steadying you even as the tremor ran through your legs.
You let out a broken sigh, gripping the sheets tighter as if that could anchor you. He leaned closer, his words brushing over your skin like heat while his hips drove into you a little deeper, brushing up against spots you didn’t even know existed.
“Such a mess,” he whispered, the tone more reverent than cruel, “but still trying to be good for me.”
You nodded weakly, your breath catching when he adjusted his hold, guiding you back into rhythm, holding you down and making you take his strokes, which grew harsher by the second. Before you could stop it, you were biting down on the pillow, trying to stay quiet.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his tone stern. “Stay still. Don’t run from it.”
Every time your ass met his hips, the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the room. Your moans were muffled by the pillow, but were still pitchy in nature. Aki was eating them up.
Aki gave you more, more, more – fucking you hard enough that the bed began to shake with the force of it, hard enough that you couldn’t think of anything else but his fucking name.
“Aki, please–” You cried out, “Fuck, I can’t take it–”
The brutal pace of his strokes had you babbling nonsense into the pillow. You allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling because, fuck, if you were going to regret it in the morning, you might as well have a fond memory to look back on. Aki’s hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise.
At least, until one of them began to wander – began to slide up your back, trail across your spine and leave goosebumps in its wake. He took your hair up in his hand, wrapping it around his fist like he fucking owned you, and you were gone. He used the leverage to crane your head up, force you to look back at him.
The image that waited for you was one you would never forget. Aki, buried to the hilt in your needy cunt, sweat dripping down his chest, his necklace, rolling down his abs, sticking his hair to his forehead. The blush had spread over his face. His eyes were wild with desire, pupils blown wide.
With a devilish little grin, he said, “Look where running that mouth got you. You say you can’t take it but you’re gushingall over me.”
You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. You’d never been that wet before – not for anyone. The evidence of your arousal was warm and slick, coating your inner thighs and making it all too easy for Aki to slide in.
It felt like he belonged there, which was a dangerous thought.
You know… considering he was your captain, and all.
Keeping his fist in your hair, he steered your head forward, driving into you with the kind of force that had your legs folding up, toes curling into the air. Each and every time he fucked into you, the tip of his dick pressed right up against that spot so deep inside of you that you saw stars – the spot that sent jolts of searing-hot pleasure up and down your spine. He all but plowed you into the mattress – at such an unforgiving pace and depth, it was hard to say anything.
Except his name, that was.
“Aki–!” The sound was ripped from you. “Aki… Aki…”
“Fuck, you keep squeezing me,” He panted. “I can feel you, Baby, Can you fucking feel me?”
You could feel him, alright. Feel him stuffing you so full that you couldn’t even wrap your fucking head around it. “Mhm! I feel it,” Came your debauched reply, “Fuck, I can feel it, Aki–”
His dick wasn’t the only thing you could feel inside of you. In fact, as he kept on hitting that same fucking spot over and over again – until you were drooling all over the pillow – you felt something else coming.
“I’m so close,” You shuddered, spreading your legs a bit to change the angle and, fuck, it only nudged you closer to the promise of sweet, sweet release.
Aki leaned down, bracing his weight onto his hands, practically pounding you into the fucking mattress. You were being fucked within an inch of your life.
“You’re not cumming until I say you can,” He managed to grit out.
Fucking asshole.
You were close. Dangerously close. Close enough that you had to physically squeeze your eyes shut to stave off your impending orgasm. It was no easy task, not by a stretch, but you wanted to be good for him.
It was no use.
Your orgasm was coming, and it was coming fast. You could feel it brewing deep inside of you – that dangerous, low, bubbling warmth that curled around your core.
Deciding to throw your morals out the window for the sake of finishing, you turned your head, peering back at him through watery eyes.
“Please–” You begged,
“Please, what?” He taunted right back, seemingly reveling in the sight of you begging for him to let you cum.
“Please, sir–” You tried again. This time, you couldn’t blink the tears away. Instead, you let them fall. “Please, Aki, fuck, I need it–”
“What do you need, Angel?” He asked you, voice layered with faux sympathy.
“I need to cum, please,” You pleaded, “Please, let me cum.”
“That’s better,” He smiled. “You’ve been so good for me. Go ahead, Angel. Cum for me.”
“Aki–” You didn’t need to be told twice. You buried your face deep into the pillow, letting the orgasm hit you with the strength of a fucking freight train, roll over you in waves. Aki never stopped, never stilled – just kept on fucking you through it at a languid pace, like he was trying to draw it out of you. Your body tensed, released all over him while you rutted your hips back. “Oh, fuck, Aki!”
He stayed close, breathing hard against your neck as you trembled beneath him. Every muscle in your body fluttered with the aftershocks, your breath stuttering out in soft, uneven sounds.
His hand steadied your hip, grounding you, keeping you from slipping too far into the haze. You could barely move, your chest rising and falling as the tension slowly melted away. He brushed his lips over your shoulder – light, fleeting – like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts.
Once he felt you were ready, he pulled out and rolled you sideways onto your back. Your head leaning ever-so-slightly off the edge of the bed, but if he didn’t care, then neither did you. You were too fucked out to care.
But, then, just when you thought he was done with you, his lips were back on your neck. A little rougher, this time, stopping to suck on the place that made you purr like a kitten. They traveled down, accompanied this time by the gentle scrape of his canines against your warm, sensitive skin. The aftereffects of your orgasm still thrummed in your pulse, your veins.
He stopped to appreciate your chest. In some places, he bit down. In others, he sucked until you knew there would be marks. You just couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.
No, in fact, there was something almost primal about him marking you up like you belonged to him. Something that you weren’t entirely sure you hated.
He slipped one of your nipple piercings into his mouth when you weren’t paying attention, tongue flicking against the oversensitive bud until you were shaking like a fucking leaf.
No, he’s not done with me yet.
As if on cue, you could feel him swiping the tip of his cock – still achingly hard – through your folds, collecting some more of that warm slick onto the head before pushing back in.
You gasped at the intrusion, back arching off of the bed, “Shi-it–”
He moaned through a mouthful of your tit, sliding right in until he was pressed flush up against you. The new angle had your vision going white at the edges – overstimulation combining with pleasure to make for a breathtaking experience.
Aki moved away from your nipple, though he didn’t go far, biting down on the skin right next to it just enough to make you cry out. With pleasure or pain, you weren’t sure – maybe a little of both.
Your hands, still tied, flopped uselessly above your head, dangling off of the edge of the bed.
This time, when Aki fucked you, he reached a hand down to rub your clit. As if you weren’t already overstimulated, you yelped at the sensation – as always, your body melted beneath his touch, creaming all over him without shame.
Fuck me, you thought.
“‘S good, So good..” You repeated like it was some sort of mantra. “So good, Aki–”
“Fuck, keep saying my name,” He growled, rolling his hips into yours at just the right pace, just the right angle to make your eyes roll back.
You were overstimulated beyond comprehension.
“You like that, don’t you?” he muttered between gritted teeth, his breath hot against your neck. “You sound so good when you say it.”
You tried to speak, to breathe, but the words barely made it past your lips. “Aki–”
“Yeah?” he cut in, his tone dark, teasing. “That’s it. Say it again.” He shifted, his rhythm relentless, hitting the same spot over and over until your whole body went taut. “Can’t even think straight, can you?”
Your hands grabbed at nothing, a strangled sound caught in your throat. You shook your head, but he only laughed under his breath, low and amused. “Look at you,” he said, voice rough with something between praise and possession. “So sensitive… you’re shaking, Baby.”
Baby.
And I’m supposed to just move on after this?
“Aki, I–” You tried again, your voice trembling.
He leaned in, his words cutting through your thoughts. “You’re not tapping out on me now, are you?”
You couldn’t answer. Everything inside you was too loud, too much. He caught your jaw, forcing your gaze forward, his breath still ragged. “Come on. Give me more, I know you can do it.”
You whimpered, trying to find air, to find words, but your body was already unraveling. It was too much – every nerve inside of you felt fucking raw. His name tore from your throat again.
“Stop fucking running,” He murmured, low and filthy, his tone dark and coaxing. “You wanted this, right? Take it.”
You twisted, breath stuttering, pushing at his chest as you slipped from his grasp, subconsciously trying to get away from the overstimulation.
But it was futile. Aki’s hands were on your hips before you could fall off the bed, pulling you right back onto the bed with him. Except, this time, he paused to reach behind him, pulling out a pillow and sliding it beneath your lower back. The angle changed again. This time, your hips were elevated.
You could just barely see him – face flushed and eyes hazy, hair tousled and all over his face as he pulled you closer by one of your legs. Once he was satisfied, he took that same leg and hooked it over his shoulder.
Oh, God, what is he–
He thrust in – giving you all of him at once – and you gasped out a whole lot louder than you were proud of. Your eyes, wide and uncertain, gawked up at him.
Aki only grinned at you, grabbing your calf and pressing a sinful little kiss to your ankle.
“You’re–” You huffed, “You’re the fuckin’ devil.”
“You gonna kill me then, rookie?” He teased. “I’d like to see you try.”
You wanted to answer, to bite something back, but the way he was looking at you made your brain short out. That steady, unflinching stare – blue eyes focused like he was reading every flicker that crossed your face – made your words die in your throat.
He resumed what he was doing, moving like he hadn’t even heard your protest, calm and in control. His breathing was heavier now, but his composure didn’t crack; it never did. You could see the faint tension in his jaw, the muscle that twitched when he was holding himself back. The sight made your pulse race.
“Still with me?” he asked you quietly. There wasn’t mockery in that – just that same quiet authority he carried everywhere, even now.
You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see the gesture, or maybe you just didn’t want him to see how much you were struggling to keep up. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice thin.
“Good,” he muttered. “Don’t start spacing out on me now.”
There was something about his tone – firm but controlled, a little rough around the edges – that made your stomach twist. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“You talk too much,” you muttered. It came out weaker than you meant it to, a half-breath between irritation and surrender.
Aki laughed softly, low in his throat, not cruel but amused. “You don’t even know the half of it,” he said. “Most people don’t get this kind of attention from me.”
You scoffed, trying to disguise the tremor in your voice. “Oh, please. You probably say that to everyone.”
He tilted his head slightly, that same lazy half-smile crossing his face. “Do I look like someone who wastes my words?”
No. I know you’re not.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t, really – not when he said it like that, like it was an irrefutable fact. He was impossible to argue with when he slipped into that tone, calm and infuriatingly sure of himself.
And it was even more impossible to argue when the angle he was fucking you at had you going dumb. Your jaw dropped, making room for more of those fucking sounds that seemed to spur him on. You all but screamed his name on a particularly harsh stroke; “Aki!”
The neighbors– you thought.
But, shit, it didn’t bother you enough to make you stop.
He grabbed you firmly by the neck, forcing your gaze upward, and locked his eyes onto yours. “Look at me,” he said, voice low and commanding.
You did, even though your head was spinning and your limbs felt like they were floating. The world around you had narrowed until it was just him, just his eyes, steady and unyielding, holding you in place. Your eyes trailed up to his necklace, watching as it thumped rhythmically against his chest, swinging in your face.
When he relaxed his fingers, you greedily sucked down more air – alternating between panting and screaming bloody murder. You’d never felt anything like it before.
It felt better than anything you’d ever experienced in your entire life.
Aki used his thumb to tug your mouth open. You peered up into his eyes through your lashes, uncertain about what his next move could possibly have been.
Then, he spat in your mouth. The worst part? You didn’t even have to be told – you swallowed on instinct.
Aki huffed out something between a laugh and a moan, “God, you’re fucking dirty.”
Without warning, he bent slightly and lifted you with careful strength, guiding you into his lap. The sudden motion made your chest flutter, but his hands stayed firm and steady on your sides, anchoring you.
Then, he began to move your hips back and forth, up and down.
The rhythm wasn’t gentle this time. It was demanding. His grip guided your hips with a rough precision that made your heart stutter. You felt the strain in his arms as he held you, his fingers pressing into your sides like he needed to feel every part of you. The sound of your breathing mixed with his – ragged, heavy, filling the space between you until the air felt too thick to swallow.
Threw your bound wrists around his neck, searching for something solid, but he was already everywhere – his breath hot against your neck, his chest firm against yours, his hands dragging you up and down in a rhythm that had you sobbing.
Your heart pounded against your ribs. Every small noise he made – every low groan, every nasty little curse whispered against your skin – sent a shiver down your spine.
He was close enough now that you could feel every exhale on your neck, every twitch of his muscles beneath your hands. His touch wasn’t careful anymore; it was hungry, like he’d been holding back and finally stopped trying.
You moved with him now, meeting his rhythm in the middle without even realizing it. His hands slipped lower, gripping your ass, bouncing you harder, faster. You could feel the heat rise under your skin, the ache in your shaking thighs, the sharp catch of his breath when you rolled your hips in circles, testing him.
That was when he snapped. His grip tightened, and a low sound left his throat – half a growl, half your name. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, voice low and rough. “Just like that, Good fucking girl, shit.”
You didn’t. You couldn’t.
The world blurred around the edges. The only thing that felt real was him – his hands, his voice, the raw, desperate rhythm that neither of you could seem to control anymore. You felt his forehead press against your collarbone, his breath coming out harsh and unsteady, and for a second, the intensity was too much.
You held on to him like you might fall apart if you didn’t. Every motion was sharper now, every exhale louder, the rhythm turning frantic before slowing again, just enough to draw it out.
You knew you looked wild – hair a mess, bouncing wildly in your Captain’s lap like a bitch in heat – but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All that mattered was Aki, Aki, Aki.
“‘M close,” You gasped out for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
Aki heard you, but he’d busied himself with sucking and biting at your chest again. “Me too, shit…”
“Aki–” You shuddered, feeling that unbearable warmth crawl its way up your spine for the third time that night. “Aki, I’m gonna cum–” You added, “Don’t pull out. I want you to cum inside of me.”
“Shit,” he gasped.
Aki’s hand moved quicker than you were able to pick up on – slipping down through the sweaty junction between your body and his and finding your clit with ease. The circles he rubbed were frantic – more spit than finesse, but it was enough to push you over the edge.
The rhythm broke all at once. It hit like a wave – strong, intense. For a second, the world felt suspended; your heartbeat, his voice, the tremor that ran through both of you – everything collided as the two of you came at the same time.
At the same time that your body clenched down on him, Aki buried himself as deep inside of you as he could fit and let go, shooting searing, white-hot warmth into your core. You gasped at the sensation of him filling you up.
You came close to him without thinking, fingernails digging into his back, and he caught you just as tight, his chest rising against yours in quick, uneven bursts.
His forehead pressed to yours, your mouths brushing but not quite meeting, both of you gasping, trying to catch the air you’d lost. You could feel him shaking slightly beneath you, the tension still running through his shoulders, his breath coming out in short, broken sounds.
Then, not thinking twice about it, you kissed him. He made a sound against your lips – small, unsteady, almost like a whimper – before melting into it.
He kissed you back like he didn’t know how to stop himself, the warmth of it spreading until it felt like your whole body was pulsing with it. His hand came up to the side of your neck, thumb brushing over your jaw as though he was memorizing the shape of you, trying to steady the mess of feeling behind the kiss.
When you finally broke away, it wasn’t really breaking – your lips hovered close, still chasing his breath, your noses brushing. Neither of you said anything. You could feel his chest rising and falling against yours, his breathing ragged, the heat between you not quite fading.
Aki reached behind his back and situated your hands in front of him before untying your wrists. Then he exhaled, shuddering a little, and buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. His breath came out uneven, warm against your skin. You could feel the tension leaving him, his body softening as though the fight had finally gone out of him.
The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, the faint creak of the mattress beneath you, the heartbeat still thrumming wildly in both of you. You didn’t move for a long time.
When you finally looked up, he met your gaze through the dim light – eyes half-lidded, expression raw, something softer lingering there that he didn’t try to hide this time. You were both still breathing hard, chests pressed together, but there was nothing left to say.
That actually just happened.
One minute, you were looking at his pretty face, and the next, Aki was turning the two of you over, laying you down gently on the bed. He got up and left (and you totally didn’t giggle at his butt when he walked off).
Before you could be disappointed, he returned with a wet washcloth in his hand. He dropped down onto his knees, spreading your legs apart and using the warm, damp fabric to clean you up.
He tossed it haphazardly onto the nightstand, then flopped down beside you, pulling the blanket up and over the two of you.
The room felt small again – dim, hazy, the TV frozen on some screen that just said replay or exit. He reached toward the nightstand, flicked a lighter, and the sharp scratch of the flame lit his face for a second before fading into smoke.
“I don’t think this is a smoking room,” you murmured, voice hoarse from what the two of you had done. “They’re gonna charge you extra.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, taking a slow drag before glancing over at you. “You want one?”
You hesitated, then nodded anyway. He passed it over, and you took a small drag, the burn catching at the back of your throat immediately. You coughed, grimaced. “God, that’s disgusting,” you muttered, handing it back.
He smirked around the filter. “Yeah, it is.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The TV hummed quietly in the background, throwing dull light across the sheets. Your pulse was still too fast, your head still too full. Finally, you broke the silence. “Should we… talk about this?”
He exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, lips parting on a sigh before he stubbed the cigarette out in a half-empty cup on the nightstand. “Tomorrow,” he said.. Then, he leaned in, pressing a faint kiss to your forehead. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. We have to be up early.”
You didn’t argue. You just let yourself curl against his chest, feeling the slow rhythm of his breathing under your cheek. The room still smelled faintly of smoke and warmth and whatever was left of the night. Somewhere behind the hum of the TV, the world kept going.
Fuck, he’s got good pecs.
You let your eyes fall shut, sinking into the steady beat of his heart until sleep finally took you. Yeah. Tomorrow.
You woke to the faint scratch of light cutting through the blinds and the quiet sound of movement beside you. For a second, you forgot where you were.
When your eyes finally opened, he was already looking at you, his expression soft in a way that didn’t match him. His hair was still a little disheveled, but it suited him.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough and low, like it hadn’t been used yet.
You blinked up at him, still half-asleep. “Morning.”
He leaned down before you could say anything else, his lips brushing yours once – a quiet test – then again, deeper this time, until your breath caught somewhere in the middle of it.
His hand slid up to your jaw, thumb tracing small, lazy circles there as the kiss deepened. He didn’t rush it. Just let it unfold, one soft press at a time, until your body started to wake up under the weight of it. You kissed him back without thinking, chasing his breath when he started to pull away, and he gave a quiet laugh against your lips – the kind that vibrated in his chest more than it came out as sound.
Then he trailed downward – a faint line of kisses along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, the place where your pulse fluttered at your throat. You felt his breath when he spoke, a barely-there murmur against your skin. “You sleep okay?”
You nodded, though it came out more like a sigh. “Mm-hmm.”
He hummed, lips ghosting lower, finding that spot just below your ear that made your stomach twist. You laughed quietly, the sound breaking through the quiet. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer – just smiled against your skin, slow and secretive, the kind of smile that said you already know. His lips trailed lower, lower, pressing kisses to your stomach.
And then his lips pressed one last kiss just above your navel before he threw the sheets over his head and disappeared.
Just when you were about to ask what he was planning, you felt his hands grip your hips, scooting you closer to his face. Then, his tongue, drawing a line up your slit in a way that had you arching off of the bed.
“Oh, shit,” You moaned out loud, losing yourself in the sensation. “Good– Good morning to you, too.”
Aki groaned in response, although the noise was muffled by your thighs. His grip was like a vice, strong hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.
When he’d run his tongue over the most sensitive part of you, your whole body would twitch. Your hips were his handles. Your body bent to his will, careening into his touch.
He sucked gently on your clit, making you arch up high off of the bed. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to your pussy, his tongue found its way down towards your dripping hole.
Leaving not a moment to waste, you gripped his hair by the root, pushing his head in deep enough for the tongue to slide right in – like it was meant to be there.
“Please,” You pleaded. “Mnnnh-”
And, just to tease you, he withdrew, replacing his tongue with two damp fingers. “Feel good, sweetheart?” You heard him murmur softly beneath the sheets.
With a gasp and a desperate rut of your hips against his mouth, against the low vibration of his voice, you sent a message as clear as day.
Yes, yes, yes.
He made no effort to stop you. Instead, adjusting his hands to grip the meat of your ass, he allowed you to shamelessly ride his face. Your hips jumped up and down, rubbing your clit across his lips, his nose, smearing your juices all over his face. You shuddered, opening your legs even further, and arched into him.
Your smooth legs clamped shut over his ears. He huffed a satisfied little laugh before prying them apart and continuing to make a ruin out of you.
Unfortunately, as he was only one man, he had to pull away for some air. He plunged two digits back into you, though, curling them up against that spot that made you purr.
Moving forward to continue lapping at your clit like it physically hurt him to move away from you, he tried sucking in more air without having to stop. You could feel your body dripping for him, dripping down his chin.
You took his fingers so well, sucking them in and then clenching around them like you never wanted to let go.
With a gasp, he pulled back. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You taste so fucking good.”
You carded a trembling hand through his hair, taking some of it into your fist and tugging on it.
“Please,” You begged again.
Though his fingers never stopped, he paused his desperate licking to draw the moment out even longer. He was in perfect tune with the rhythm of your body, every arch, every stutter of your hips spurring him on. He rubbed the point of his index finger over your sweet spot, pulling you apart from the inside. “Use your words, Angel.”
Judging by the way your walls were beginning to spasm around his fingers, fun time was about to be cut short.
What? A man can nut too fast but when a woman does it, it’s different?
Your eyes rolled back, slurred words and broken moans pouring out of your mouth a mile a minute while you struggled to hold on.
Aki dove back into you, parting your lips with his nose and then forming a light suction seal over your clit. He had to readjust himself to fit his fingers and his mouth in such a small space.
You gasped, “Aki, wait, ‘m gonna cum.”
His lips departed from your dripping wet cunt, but only to roughly slide your ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding your previous pleas, he devoured you.
“Say my name like that again,” He practically moaned, running his hands up and down your trembling thighs. “Say my name while you ride my face, baby.”
“Mmmfuck– wait,” You gasped. Your body, however, sent a different signal. You yanked his hair – hard, too – and trapped his head between your thighs. Those pretty little noises you were making increased in pitch, and became more frequent. You were near the breaking point, broken pleas of his name tumbling from your devilish lips. “Wait, wait… Aki, baby.”
Aki moaned against your abused clit while his lips and tongue alternated applying pressure on it. The pleasure coursing through your veins was enough to drive you wild. You were getting loud.
Head thrown back, hand gripping his dark tresses like a vice, back arched up off of the bed while the sheets slipped further off of your hips, you knew you were a sight to behold. You tugged the sheets back, getting a good look at him buried between your thighs.
His tongue swapped places with his fingers.
Your guts were clenching around his tongue like you needed more. He removed his mouth from your dripping cunt, allowing his fingers to work you open – an obscene mix of your juices and his spit glistening as it ran down his chin. Somehow, he found the strength to utter the words, “I need you to cum for me.”
He had power over you in that moment, you knew he did. He had you rocking your hips back on his fingers like a desperate whore, chasing that sweet release you so desperately craved. When you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep quiet – because you had gotten a bit louder, to say the least…
“Let me hear you, Angel,” He panted. “Let the whole building know who’s making you feel good.”
And he continued the downright slaughter of your pussy with his mouth this time.
“Fuck, just like that,” you mewled, curling into yourself.
It slipped out. It must have. Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of your core, your lips spilled praise of his name. “Aki!”
His smirk only grew. He licked some of you off of his lips, and then hummed, twisting his fingers around. “That’s it, pretty. Such a good girl for me.”
“Baby,” she mewled. “Oh, fuck, cumming!”
The coil of your release snapped, slamming into you at full force. Your hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while savoring the slow strokes of his long fingers against your gummy walls. You could feel the shock tear through you in waves, ripping trembling gasps from your lungs while you clenched around him.
He slid his fingers out of you slowly, savoring the way your pussy clenched over his fingers one last time before pulling out.
Taking the soaked digits up to his lips, he sucked them clean. The mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed higher, the faint strain of muscle beneath his skin catching your attention before you could look away. You tried, but your gaze lingered, and the heat in your face gave you away.
He noticed – of course he did. A small, knowing smile curved at the corner of his mouth before he leaned in, catching your chin in his hand. The world went quiet.
Then he kissed you, his mouth still soaked with your arousal.
It wasn’t gentle, not exactly, but steady – his lips warm, his breath unsteady, the taste of you on his tongue. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, your embarrassment mixing with something else entirely as he deepened it just a little, enough to make your head spin.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t move far. His forehead brushed yours, the air still thick between you, his voice rough when he spoke. “You okay?”
You nodded, breathless.
He smiled again, softer this time, and whispered, “Good,” before kissing you once more.
He stretched once, long and languid. You watched him pull the clothes off the ottoman, slip his legs into his pants, the faint crease of his back muscles moving under his skin, and your stomach twisted in that familiar, fluttering way.
The sight was ridiculous, really – him, completely oblivious to how much you noticed. But you couldn’t help it. He glanced over at you, caught your eyes lingering, and smirked, that faint quirk of his mouth that said he knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed it.
You shifted yourself upright, reaching for your own clothes, bending slightly to pick them up, tugging your bra and panties into place and leaving your shirt undone for now. The movement felt self-conscious, even though he wasn’t paying that much attention. Or maybe he was, and that thought made your pulse spike.
The faint trickle of water signaled he was already in the bathroom. You padded across the carpet, slipping in behind him. The hotel toothpaste was that weird chalky mint kind, but neither of you cared. You brushed your teeth side by side, elbows almost brushing, and your shoulder nudged his occasionally. It was accidental, but your chest still tightened each time because, fuck, there was nothing casual about it.
You caught his reflection in the mirror – his tie looped awkwardly around his neck, the one you remembered him using to bind your wrists a few hours prior. Then, you caught wind of the marks on your chest, red and prominent.
He was carding his hair back with one hand, adjusting the collar with the other, eyes narrowed in concentration that didn’t match the way his mouth had quirked just for you that morning.
“Here,” you sighed, stepping closer, voice soft. “You’re doing it wrong.”
He didn’t argue, only glanced at you through the mirror, that small, teasing eyebrow raising slightly. His lips curled, half-amused, half-challenging, and you felt that flutter in your chest again. Your fingers brushed his collarbone as you took the tie from him, adjusting the knot.
He hummed softly, a low sound that traveled straight down to your stomach. “Mm, perfect. Guess I owe you,” he murmured, voice rough, almost gravelly.
“Yeah, you do,” you answered, leaning in a little closer than necessary. You couldn’t help yourself. The heat of him standing so close was too much to bear. You felt your fingers brush over his belt buckle as you stepped closer, instinctive, the small tug pulling him toward you.
His lips found yours before you realized what you were doing, soft at first, then a little harder. The kiss carried all the residue of the night before: the small ache, the memory of him so deep inside of you… knowing nothing else would be said. His hand slid to your waist as your own fingers curled around his neck.
You were done, the knot perfect, but he didn’t move away. “All set,” you murmured, brushing imaginary lint off his shirt.
He smirked, one side of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Thanks, rookie,” he said, voice low, teasing, but there was something in the way his chest rose and fell that told you he meant more than just the tie.
You stepped closer, instinctive, catching his belt buckle with your hand, the teasing smirk fading into something warmer, heavier. He met your eyes, the mirror reflecting heat back at you, and then you were kissing him again.
Your hands drifted, his fingers brushed against your sides, and for a moment, it was like the night never ended. In fact, when you shifted your leg against his, you felt a little something else standing at attention like the night never ended.
You grinned, “You’re hard again.”
“You look good in uniform,” He retorted. “I think I like you better without it on, though.”
You leaned closer, closer, until your noses were pressed right up against one another. “Pity we’re running late, or I’d show you.”
Aki’s grin widened, “We’d only be missing breakfast.”
You tilted your head back, teasing him with the faintest brush of your lips, and he hummed low, almost a growl, lips pressing a fraction harder. Your hands found his shoulders, curling into the fabric of his shirt, and you could feel the tension in him, that coiled, slow-burning energy that always made your stomach twist.
With a gasp, you felt your body move – he lifted you onto the bathroom sink, parting your legs and slotting himself in between them.
“You’re not about to break protocol again, are you?” you asked, voice light, teasing, but the heat in your chest betrayed you.
He pulled back just enough to smirk, eyes dark and sharp. “Fuck protocol,” he murmured, and leaned in for another kiss.
What have I started? You thought.
But, for reference, he absolutely did throw caution to the wind with protocol. Right there, up against the bathroom mirror, with your panties pulled to the side.
Himeno and Denji were already there, seated at a corner table by the window. Himeno’s posture was casual, arms folded loosely across her chest, but the gleam in her eyes was sharper than usual. Denji was halfway through a pile of pancakes, oblivious as ever, but his ears perked up slightly when he noticed you, the fork pausing mid-air.
Aki’s hand brushed yours as you walked past him toward the table. It was subtle, almost innocent, but enough to make your stomach tighten and your pulse spike. He smirked down at you, that small, knowing tilt of his lips, and you felt yourself flush.
“Morning,” Himeno said, voice light, almost teasing. She didn’t comment outright, but the way her eyes flicked from you to him – and lingered there – spoke volumes.
You slid into the chair beside Aki, Himeno perched across from you, arms folded casually – but her gaze wasn’t on Denji. It was on Aki. Sharp, calculating.You noticed it immediately, the way her eyes lingered a second too long, the faint curve of a smirk tugging at her lips.
Aki shifted slightly in his seat, catching the look out of the corner of his eye. You felt it too.
He cleared his throat, a small, deliberate sound that made your stomach tighten, and then slid out of the chair.
“I’m gonna get some coffee,” he muttered, voice neutral, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. He moved with that same slow, controlled grace, each step deliberate, aware that Himeno was watching him, studying him.
Himeno hummed softly, almost to herself, though you were sure it was loud enough for you to hear. “Busy night?” she said lightly, casual in tone, but sharp as a knife in the way her eyes flicked between you and him.
“Late night,” You corrected, “Couldn’t sleep.”
She hummed softly, almost to herself, and tilted her head, letting her eyes linger on you longer than necessary. “You’re awfully… chipper for someone who’s had such a late night,” she said lightly, casual, but the undertone was sharp, playful. Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, her gaze flicking between you and the empty space where Aki had just gone to get coffee.
You froze, hiding a flush behind the mug in your hands. “Uh… just ready for breakfast,” you muttered, voice tighter than you intended. Himeno’s smirk deepened, subtle but cutting, and she leaned back, tilting her head with the ease of someone who’d already read every page of your story without you saying a word.
“Where’s Power?” You asked.
“Bathroom.”
On cue, Aki returned with a mug of coffee in hand and slid into the chair beside you, his presence immediately grounding the charged tension that had been simmering across the table. You let out a small, relieved breath, curling just slightly toward him, hiding the residual flush from Himeno’s teasing.
Denji continued obliviously shoveling pancakes into his mouth, eyes occasionally darting around but never quite catching on, while Himeno’s smirk remained faint, sharp, knowing.
A silence fell over the table. Not uncomfortable, exactly, just the kind of quiet that leaves space for thoughts to spiral, for cheeks to warm, for your pulse to hammer.
Then, with all the theatrical timing of someone who’d waited just long enough, Power returned from the bathroom. She paused in the doorway dramatically. “Good risings, mortals,” she announced, voice dripping with mock grandeur. You glanced at her, barely able to suppress a laugh, while Aki’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
She slid into her chair, shoulders back, a faint smirk curling her lips. And then she sniffed. Just once, subtle, but it was enough. Her gaze immediately locked on Aki. “Oh,” she said softly, pointing a single finger at him like she’d discovered a crime scene. “There it is. I smell it. The… mating scent.”
Aki choked on his coffee, sputtering violently into his mug, eyes wide, liquid threatening to spill across the table. Himeno’s smirk deepened, unrepentant, and Denji’s fork froze mid-air, pancakes abandoned as he looked between all of you, utterly confused.
“Excuse me?” Aki croaked, trying to regain composure, coughing through the coffee, glaring at Power but unable to hide the blush creeping up his neck.
Denji, completely missing subtlety, blurted out loudly, “Wait– you two banged?!” Then, he turned to Himeno, “I fucking told you that would happen!”
Aki’s eyes went wide, and without thinking, he kicked Denji under the table with enough force to make him yelp, sending the fork clattering to the floor. “Shut the hell up,” Aki hissed, voice low and dangerous, though it came out more like a strangled growl.
You cleared your throat, trying to rescue the situation, and said evenly, “I’m gonna get a waffle.”
You had never speedwalked so quickly in your entire life.
a/n: happy halloween sluts ;)
creds: i don't own csm obv. the banner was done by the illustrious @mrshayakawaa, who i adore. credits unknown for banner art! if you know pls lmk. x
So when do we as a fandom decide if iron lung mark is an ego, and if he is: is he new or actor mark?
If its actor mark that makes things so fun. But i understand keeping it separate from marks other works because iron lung is in just a whole new world.
Yet again if its actor mark, fanfictions are gonna go wild the bts moments
Edit: saw the movie and it was 100/10 loved that a lot of the cast was people he’s had working with him for almost if not, over a decade. Love the support circle Mark built to be able to go from youtube to full sold out cinemas for a 2hr movie
part one - part two - this is part three - part four
pairings ━ steve harrington x fem!pregnant!reader with features of max mayfield, dustin henderson, and close friend!nancy wheeler x pregnant!reader
synopsis ━ when a nurse accidentally outed your pregnancy in the hospital waiting room, nancy, mike, and lucas became the first to know. before the fight with vecna, you tell steve everything. turns out, your worst fears were all inside of your head.
warnings ━ throwback featured. pregnancy, reader is 15 weeks along. one suggestive 18+ moment (no smut, just the funny topic of how baby was conceived lol). overprotective group with pregnant!reader. angst. character death (not reader or steve do not worry). violence.
notes ━ this chapter establishes reader as 'more than just a pregnant person' since she has contributed to this group and fight, lol... anyways not my gif.
masterlist
... two years and seven months earlier, in april 1985.
starcourt mall is one of your favorite places in hawkins. you love how the lights shine overhead like a swarm of lazy fireflies, casting everything in that perfect, artificial summer glow even though it's barely spring outside.
you weave through the weekend crowd, with your jcpenney bag swinging lightly from your shoulder with your favorite white graphic tee tucked into your levis.
the shirt is soft from a hundred washes, with the scarlet witch’s silhouette from the avengers 1963 #47 cover bold across your torso, and you’re grateful for the employee perk that lets you wear it.
your work break started ten minutes ago, and your feet carry you on autopilot toward scoops ahoy since robin’s shift lines up with yours most days, a happy accident that turned into ritual with shared fries from the food court, and shared complaints about customers. honestly, it is just shared everything with you and your bestfriend.
you’re already smiling thinking about how she’s going to groan when you tease her about the sailor uniform again.
however, when you round the corner and head into scoops, the smile falters.
robin isn’t behind the counter.
instead, there’s steve harrington.
he’s leaning on the freezer with one elbow, with that sailor hat tipped back just enough to let a few strands of that ridiculous hair fall over his forehead. the uniform looks even more absurd on him than it does on robin... the blue too bright, shorts too short... but somehow he makes it work.
or maybe you’re just biased because he’s stupidly pretty.
steve hasn’t noticed you yet. he’s wiping down the counter in slow circles, humming something under his breath you can’t quite catch. your stomach does a small, traitorous flip since you’ve seen steve around before, like everyone has, but you’ve never really talked to him without robin as buffer and you know from the way his eyes linger on your figure when you visit, that he’s noticed you too.
you clear your throat softly and step up to the counter.
“hey. um, is robin around?”
steve’s head snaps up. the second he registers it’s you, his whole face changes. it is a surprised look, then pleased, then he is trying very hard to look casual and failing miserably.
“oh—hey. no, she called out sick this morning from a sore throat or something. she sounded like a dying frog on the phone.”
you frown, disappointed, “aw, my poor bestie. i was gonna drag her to the food court and force her to eat real food.”
steve smiles, small and crooked, “yeah, she warned me you might show up and said to tell you she’s sorry and that you’re not allowed to make fun of her uniform while she’s not here to defend herself.”
you laugh, leaning your forearms on the cool counter, “that sounds exactly like her.”
there’s a beat of quiet, just the hum of the ice cream freezers and distant mall music. steve doesn’t move to serve anyone else, even though a couple kids are eyeing the flavors.
he’s looking at you like he’s trying to figure out a sudoku board before suddenly, his gaze drops to your shirt and lights up.
“whoa, wait—that’s new. th-the marvel shirt?”
you glance down, tugging the hem a little, “yeah... this... well, it is new to you, but it’s my favorite. my job made it and put it out on display, so i get to wear it whenever i want.”
“lucky,” steve says and he is grinning while saying so, “i’m stuck looking like a candy striper who lost a bet.”
you bite your lip to keep from laughing too loud, “it’s… iconic.”
“brutal,” he says, but he’s smiling wider. he nods at the shirt again, “so who’s your favorite marvel character?”
“the scarlet witch,” you answer without hesitation, “or wanda. she’s complicated and powerful and doesn’t take crap from anyone.... not even from her own dad.”
steve’s eyebrows lift, impressed, “good choice. she has the- um- magic, right? reality warping?”
“exactly.” you tilt your head, “wait- you actually read the comics?”
“some,” he admits which comes off a little sheepish, “enough to know you, y/n, kinda remind me of someone with the phoenix force.”
heat rushes to your cheeks so fast you have to look down at the flavor board to hide it, since you can tell steve is trying to flirt with you.
“that’s—um. that’s a hell of a compliment, harrington.”
he shrugs, but his ears are pink now, “just calling it like i see it.”
you glance up through your lashes, “okay, hotshot. who’s yours?”
steve pretends to think, tapping the scooper against the glass, “used to be professor x. bald, brilliant, reads minds. classic.”
“used to be?”
he meets your eyes, voice softer, “yeah. now it might have to be vision. guy falls for the most powerful woman in the room, doesn’t care that she could rewrite reality if she got mad. kinda brave, actually.”
your heart is doing something ridiculous like it is tripping over itself, fluttering like it’s trying to escape your ribs. you swallow, “vision’s a good one.”
steve smiles like he knows exactly what he just did to you.
he reaches under the counter without asking and starts scooping a flavor of ice cream... the cookies and cream one with two generous scoops into a waffle cone.
he slides it across to you.
you blink, “i didn’t order yet.”
“i know,” he says simply, “but robin says it’s your favorite.... and i’ve seen you stare at it through the glass like it personally seduced you by existing.”
you take the cone, fingers brushing his for half a second, “stalker.”
“observant,” he corrects, leaning forward on his elbows so he’s closer,“there’s a difference.”
you take a bite to hide your smile, the cold sweet on your tongue grounding you a little, “thank you. seriously.”
“anytime.”
replacing robin today, he asks about your shift and you ask about the worst customer he’s had today (it was a mom who let her kid lick every flavor before choosing vanilla). he tells you about the time robin accidentally called a customer “ma’am” who was definitely a “sir,” and you nearly choke laughing.
you’re so caught up you don’t notice the clock above the counter until the minute hand ticks too close to the end of your break.
“oh crap,” you mutter, straightening your posture as you adjust the bag on your shoulder, “i gotta get back to work!”
steve’s face falls just a fraction, “yeah. yea- of course.”
you start to turn, then pause. he’s watching you, now, with something nervous flickering behind his eyes since the easy flirting has quieted.
“hey,” he says quickly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t hurry, “before you go... um... there’s this movie coming out tomorrow. it is cat’s eye, a movie from the stephen king stories. I heard it’s creepy but good.”
you nod slowly, “yeah, i saw the poster. it looks fun.”
steve rubs the back of his neck, “cool. um. would you—maybe wanna go? with me when it comes out tomorrow night?”
the question hangs soft between you since there was no grand gesture and no audience, just steve looking hopeful and a little terrified.
that is what you loved.
you feel your smile grow until it hurts your cheeks, “yeah, harrington. i’d like that.”
steve's whole face lights up with a ridiculous amount of relief and joy, “really?”
“really.”
you take a step back, cone in hand, “pick me up after work at seven?”
“seven,” he confirms, grinning so wide it’s contagious, “i’ll be there.”
you turn to go, then glance over your shoulder right as you near the exit, “oh yeah... thanks for the ice cream, steve.”
he leans on the counter again, watching you walk away, “anytime, wanda.”
... back to the present, november 1987.
everyone is back at the wsqk radio station, and the faint static noise still comes from the equipment that was never turned off since the failure of the crawl. the group is a mix of exhaustion and fragile relief but the stress of what happened to holly still confuses everyone.
where did she go?
what is above the upside down?
your hand finds steve's, fingers intertwining and you feel his warm palm, calloused, against yours which keeps you calm in the tense environment.
lucas glances your way, with his chest still bandaged from the tunnel fight, and offers a small nod. he is wheeling max around the station, a place she has never been in before while the red-head looks around weakly, her eyes still glassy from the hospital meds vickie given her.
as some of the group disappear down the corridor, you tug steve's hand gently, leading him in the opposite direction toward one of the empty office rooms.
the station's layout is a maze of cluttered desks and faded posters, but this room is quieter, tucked away from the main lounge where the others are gathering.
"nance, i'll be right back," you call out over your shoulder, your voice steady despite the instability happening inside of your mind, nearly nervous about the next conversation that was needed with steve.
nancy looks up from where she's siting with jonathan on a couch, her eyes meeting yours with understanding.
"take your time," she says softly, and most the group nods.
yes, there was no time to chat about things other than vecna and whatever happened to holly. however, there was nobody who was going to tell you to postpone this needed conversation with steve.
before moving, you see hopper clapping jonathan once on the back and dustin standing up with a dry erase marker to already chat about the upside down's layout.
everyone knows this moment is yours, so they left you and steve be.
you push open the door, the hinges creak softly, and you step inside. the room is sparse with a dusty desk, a couple of chairs, and a window overlooking the hawkins daylight. you let steve step in before you close the door behind you.
afterwards, you lean against the door for a second, listening to the muffled voices from the lounge starting up with dustin's voice mainly outlining the next moves against vecna, with hopper's input.
they're distracted now.
you turn to face steve, your heart pounding so hard it echoes in your ears. he's standing there, just a few feet away, with his brown eyes locked on yours with a softness that steals your breath.
it's the way he's always looked at you... like you're the only thing in the world that matters, like he could stare forever and never get tired. now there's something deeper, a tenderness laced with wonder, with his gaze flicking down to your belly and back up full of unspoken questions, and a love so deeply rooted that it makes your chest ache.
tears prick at your eyes immediately as you stutter, "steve, I-i'm so sorry," you whisper, the words tumbling out in a rush, "i should've told you sooner. i wanted to, i swear, but—"
steve steps closer, his hands finding your waist gently, pulling you into him.
"hey, hey," he murmurs, voice low and soothing, "why? what happened?"
you swallow hard, leaning into his warmth.
"because of… you know. vecna. everything's been falling apart again, and i didn't want to add more chaos. i thought if i waited until it was over—"
steve nods slowly, his thumb brushing your cheek as he cuts you off from your sentence, "yeah but vecna's gonna be defeated soon, love. we're gonna end this. you could've told me earlier."
"i know," you say and your voice is trembling, "but i was scared. I was scared everyone would reject the baby because the timing's all wrong. we're so young, steve... you're 21, i'm 20. it's not perfect."
your man's expression softens even more, if that's possible, and he shakes his head, "i know we're young, but it happened, and i would've accepted it right away with no questions." his hands slide lower, palms splaying gently over your small bump, caressing it through the fabric of your slightly oversized green shirt.
the touch is reverent, careful, like he's afraid he'll wake from a dream, "this is the both of us created into one. not even someone like vecna could've taken his happy moment away from me."
you lean into him, with your own hands resting on his arms, feeling the steady beat of his pulse, "i had a doctor's appointment last week," you say softly, the words feeling intimate in the quiet room, "today makes 15 weeks. I have one more week until I hit four months."
steve looks down, his eyes tracing the gentle curve where your belly presses against the shirt, almost poking through. a small smirk tugs at his lips as something clicks.
"wait… so we conceived in july... was it... was it during that moment we had in the car after dustin's birthday party?"
you nearly laugh, the sound bubbling up through the tears, "hey! don't think about that right now!"
steve grins now, that boyish smirk you fell for years ago, his eyes sparkling with mischief and memory, "come on, that sundress you wore? the blue one that matched your skin so perfectly? you looked so sexy—i couldn't resist."
"well, look where that got us," you say, placing your hands on top of his, pressing them firmer against your belly.
the baby flutters faintly, as if sensing the moment which makes you both freeze, sharing a wide-eyed glance.
steve laughs then, a real, warm sound that fills the room, but it's cut short by a tear slipping down his cheek.
he kisses your forehead, lingering there, his lips soft against your skin.
you pull back slightly, wiping the tear away with your thumb.
"how did you know? before… before i could tell you?"
he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing, "in the upside down… i nearly did something stupid... you're gonna kill me, but i tried to play a hero again while crossing into th-this melting stairwell to save nancy and jonathan. dustin... he freaked out, and pulled me back and in order to stop me, he… he spilled it. he said i couldn't die because you're pregnant with my kid."
you sigh, a mix of frustration and ache settling in your chest, "why do you always have to play hero, steve? every time—"
"they were about to drown in that goo," he says quietly, with his eyes pleading for some sort of forgiveness, "i had to try."
you sigh again, "I know, but it scares me."
"hey," he whispers and one of his hands leaves your belly to cup your face, "don't stress it. i'm okay now." steve's voice drops lower too, full of love that wraps around you like a blanket, "i want you to stay calm... for you and the baby."
you nod, but the words keep coming from steve, "i promise to stay safe," he says firmly, "and keep you safe. both of you."
"yeah... but i'm anxious, steve," you admit, "not just about vecna... its just that i don't want to be useless or sidelined in this whole thing. remember 18 months ago? i was right there handling guns, bombs, and fighting in the upside down and I was the only one who did damage to vecna before he nearly killed max. now… i don't want to be dumbed down to just another person in the group because I happen to be pregnant."
he nods, understanding flickering in his eyes, "well, you're not useless. never that.... but there have to be precautions for the baby, love."
"i know," you say, "but i can still be involved—in the planning, at least?"
"deal," he agrees and pulls you closer so your small belly touches his lower stomach, "we compromise. you help plan, i make sure you're safe."
you smile, before resting your head across his chest. for a few second after, a wave of silence comes before steve's face crumples, and tears spilling freely from his eyes.
he steps back slightly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"what's wrong?" you look up and ask, panic rising as you try to pull him back into you.
he shakes his head, smiling through the tears, "nothing. i'm happy. i'm so fucking happy." his voice breaks, "ever since I found out about you I just... I just keep thinking about the failed relationship with my parents and just everything else that went wrong in my life due to my stupid decisions. i thought i'd never have a family or any sense of stability. i felt like a loser after high school since I did not go to college, and I got cut off from parents. i thought vecna was it for me. maybe if i played hero, proved i wasn't 'king steve' anymore, it'd mean something."
he pauses, before he turns and his eyes were locked on yours once again, "but now… i realize i don't need that. i got what i always wanted, which was a greater love with you."
tears stream down your face now too, your heart swelling until it hurts, "steve…"
you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping tight around his neck (while being mindful of your arm injury) as he buries his face in your shoulder, with his body shaking with quiet sobs.
"i promise," he whispers against your skin, "i'll be a good dad. the best dad I can be while being the greatest partner to you.... forever."
you hold him as the world outside seems to fade in your mind to nothing.
minutes pass in that embrace, until you both pull back, wiping each other's tears.
turning around and before opening the door, steve pauses.
"do you know the gender of the baby?"
you shake your head, smiling softly.
"not yet. but i've been reading about cravings and stuff. all the signs point to a girl since I like sweet things, and with my irregular morning sickness patterns."
steve's face lights up, a fresh tear glistening.
"a girl." he breathes it like a prayer, then takes your hand, "come on. we'll talk more later... let's go join them."
you nod, letting him lead you out of the office hand in hand with his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles. the hallway feels narrower but the muffled voices from the main lounge grow clearer as you approach.
everyone is already gathered around the radio booth window sitting on the couches, where dustin has turned the glass into a makeshift whiteboard with black dry-erase marker.
there’s a free spot on the sagging couch beside murray, who’s perched with his arms crossed and his eyes curious behind his glasses. steve guides you there first, letting you sink into the cushions before he hops up to sit on the backrest, with his right leg dangling beside you.
the man's knee was close to your left shoulder protectively, and steve's right hand immediately finds your upper back, rubbing slow, soothing lines between your shoulder blade. you lean into the touch without thinking, drawing a deep breath to settle the flutter of nerves in your chest.
murray scoots over an inch to give you room, offering a small, knowing nod which gives silent praise for the conversation you just had, maybe, or just acknowledgment that you’re holding it together.
you return a tiny smile, then turn your attention to dustin.
he’s in full lecture mode with his cap pushed back and a marker squeaking against the glass as he redraws the diagram he’s apparently already explained once.
“okay, okay, catch-up for steve and y/n,” dustin says, glancing over his shoulder at you both, “so basically... this bottom circle you see here? that’s hawkins.” he taps the lower loop he’s drawn on the window, “we always assumed the upside down was just some pocket dimension brenner accidentally tore open, right? but it’s not.... it’s a bridge.... more specifically, an interdimensional bridge that rips through space and time.”
your eyes widen, with your mind doing a double take on if you've heard that correctly.
you feel steve’s hand still on your back for a second and you turn your head just enough to meet his gaze... he’s staring at you, brown eyes comically round, mouth slightly agape. you know that look since it’s the same one he gave you in the office when the pieces clicked about july.
you’re both thinking the same thing about what his mentee said.
dustin catches it and grins, pointing at you two with the marker, “see guys? they’re surprised too.”
you shake your head slowly, pushing yourself up from the couch with one hand on steve's knee and the other subtly supporting your lower back. the movement is a little slower than usual, your small bump making balance just a touch trickier.
“dustin,” you say, voice steady as you admit your truth, “i had that theory since last year.”
the room goes quiet.
“wait... what?” hopper blurts, his gaze on joyce breaking as you spoke those last words.
“you did?” dustin’s voice pitches up, open marker frozen mid-air.
you step closer to the window, close enough to see the faint smudges from previous drawings.
“yeah. you know my whole thing with marvel and x-men comics?” you glance around and you see robin's smirk, steve’s lips twitch, and even kali gives a tiny nod.
robin mutters, “nerd,” under her breath, and you shoot her a playful glare before continuing, “i always figured that the upside down wasn’t a separate dimension exactly.... more like the ‘space between.’ i told steve a while ago shortly after what had happened to max and eddie...I said that it wouldn’t surprise me if the upside down was just connective tissue between universes... like... a multiverse bridge, but i thought i was living too much in the fantasy.”
you shrug, a little embarrassed now that every eye is on you. so, you walk a step backwards, feeling steve’s hand on your lower back again as you stand there.
murray beside him gives a low, appreciative hum towards you, with eyebrows raised in clear respect.
dustin looks almost offended that he didn’t know, like his smart brain could not have detected that sooner, “you had this puzzle piece the whole time and didn’t say anything?”
“i thought it sounded insane,” you admit and your voice gets softer, “i didn’t have proof... just comic-book logic.”
mr. clarke clears his throat from the corner, smiling fondly, “comic-book logic has been right more than once in this town, ms. l/n.”
dustin recovers quickly, excitement bubbling over again.
“okay, well—you’re right, but keep in mind the upside down is wildly unstable, held together by exotic matter we found dead center above the lab.” he circles a smaller ring in the middle of the bridge shape he’s drawn, right over where hawkins lab would sit, “in theoretical physics, they call this type of bridge a—”
“wormhole,” you, erica, and mr. clarke say in unison.
the three of you glance at each other and erica smirks, mr. clarke gives an approving nod, and you can’t help the small and proud smile that tugs at your lips.
“yes,” dustin says, a little deflated but grinning anyway, “and this wormhole connects hawkins to here…” he draws a second circle on the opposite side of the bridge, “…another world i’ve coined the abyss.”
robin tilts her head, “any particular reason for the dramatic name?”
mr. clarke answers before dustin can, “a realm of chaos and evil.”
robin blinks, “i’m sorry?”
“d&d,” half the room choruses... lucas, mike, erica, will, and even steve mutters it under his breath.
hopper pinches the bridge of his nose, “jesus christ.”
“wow,” murray mutters beside you and steve, loud enough for only you two to hear. steve huffs a quiet laugh, with his fingers resuming their gentle path up and down your spine.
dustin barrels on, “i believe the abyss is the true home of the demogorgons, the vines, the mind flayer—all the nasty shit we’ve been fighting. it’s where, years ago, you banished henry.” he points at eleven, who sits beside erica with her arms wrapped around herself.
eleven’s voice is quiet as she says, “brenner made me find henry.”
she says it almost defensively, like she’s afraid someone will blame her for everything. your heart twists, knowing they would never do that.
with eleven, you’ve felt protective of her since the moment you met her (with max) at your jcpenny job almost two years ago... you were protective, since this girl had to carry the weight of the world since she was born.
while only five years older than her, you still hate that she’s fifteen and still the center of every plan.
it might be the maternal instinct that you didn’t even know you had, yet. all of it flares hot in your chest since you just want her safe, happy, and free to be a teenager after this is over. you want her to have a real home with more school dances, college, maybe.
anything similar to the life you and steve are only just starting to dream about for yourselves... and now for the tiny life inside you.
“and when you made remote contact with the abyss,” dustin continues, turning back to the window, “the bridge formed. ever since, henry and his monsters have been using it to cross right back into hawkins.”
he caps the marker with finality and steps back, letting everyone absorb the drawing.
the room is silent for a long beat.
you sink back onto the couch slowly, with the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders, yet steve’s hand never leaves your back, with thumb tracing the same comforting pattern.
you take a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. the exhale is loud, which makes multiple heads turn towards your direction at once. all you notice is nancy’s worried eyes, robin’s furrowed brow, hopper’s concern, and even eleven glancing over with quiet sympathy.
you realize how loud that sigh must have been and crack a small, tired smile, lifting one hand in reassurance, “I'm okay... this is just… overwhelming.”
steve leans down a little, “you sure?”
you nod, reaching back to squeeze his knee, “yeah.... just processing.”
dustin caps the marker again, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he can’t contain the energy inside of his mind and mouth at once, “we kicked vecna’s ass last year. well... eleven with her powers and y/n with that damn flamethrower in particular... but he just fled across this bridge and back into the abyss to lick his wounds.”
“what a pussy!” erica calls from the center couch, arms crossed, with her voice dripping with twelve-year-old disdain.
a surprised smirk tugs at your lips before you can stop it while steve’s hand pauses mid-circle on your back, then resumes, his quiet huff of laughter vibrating against your shoulder.
even hopper’s mouth twitches at the out-of-pocket callout.
joyce, sitting forward on the edge of the center couch, frowns softly, “so all this time… vecna’s been hiding in the sky?”
“that explains why every crawl led to a dead end,” nancy says, arms folded tight, eyes on the diagram like she’s memorizing it.
eleven nods beside erica, “and why i can’t find him in the bath.”
“and why holly came from the sky,” jonathan adds quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
hopper’s jaw tightens, almost locked, “yeah, but why is he taking kids up there?” he is angry, the kind of anger that comes from imagining something unspeakable happening to a child... especially one he’s come to care about like family.
the room stills and max's soft breathing is suddenly the loudest sound.
will steps forward, “for the same reason he took me.” his voice is steady, but you can hear the light tremor underneath, “the minds of children are weaker, right? more easily molded and controlled. so he channels his thoughts and powers through me to amplify his abilities… and he’s going to do the same to those kids.”
hopper turns fully toward him, “amplify his abilities? to do what?”
you feel the words rise in your throat before you can stop them, “to create an incursion.”
every head swivels toward you. steve’s hand stills again on your back as you lean forward slightly, with your elbows on your knees while the small weight of your belly shifts with the movement.
“or in the comics… crashing one world into another.”
hopper stares, “are you serious?”
“she is,” max says from her wheelchair near the door, voice flat but certain, “holly… she said henry told the kids they would help him draw the worlds together.”
your eyes widen as you sit up straighter, ignoring the twinge in your lower back, “i didn’t understand what it meant at the time,” max continues, “but hearing y/n and dustin—”
“he wants to move the abyss,” mike cuts in, voice rising with realization, “and crash it here into hawkins.”
“no—not crash!” will corrects sharply, surging forward.
he moves around the couch, snatches the marker from dustin’s hand and starts drawing frantic lines on the window with arrows from the abyss circle pushing toward hawkins, “merge! henry wasn’t licking his wounds in the abyss... he was making rifts! he is weakening the abyss like he weakened hawkins. so when the abyss and hawkins collide, they become one.”
the marker squeaks loud in the sudden silence.
steve finally speaks, his voice a little hoarse... he’s been quiet since the office, mind clearly split between the end of the world and the beginning of a family.
he shifts beside you, “okay, uh… how long would this take? to move worlds? like-” he smacks his hands together sharply, the clap echoing, “or is this gonna take some time?”
mike exhales hard, running a hand through his hair.
“well this better take some time, because if this is all correct we have to get two thousand feet into the air, find our way into the abyss, free holly and the kids, and kill vecna before our worlds collide.”
lucas, leaning around max, shakes, “and if my theory is right… he’s gonna move the worlds tonight.”
the room seems to shrink since joyce’s hand tightens around herself, nancy’s eyes flick to the windows behind her like she’s already searching the sky and eleven’s nose starts to bleed again, just a thin trickle she wipes away without comment.
robin mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “fan-fucking-tastic.”
you feel steve’s fingers resume their path up your spine, slower.
two thousand feet into the air. tonight.
your free hand drifts to your belly, settling over the small curve hidden beneath your green shirt. it has been fifteen weeks and your child is a life barely the size of a peach, with their heart beating steady inside you while the world prepares to end above everyone’s heads.
soon, the group starts talking at once with hopper barking questions and plans. dustin is already theorizing entry points and Nancy starts pulling out maps... but you stay quiet since this is not just hawkins and not just holly and the kids in your mind.
this is future you and steve only just dared to name.
anyways, hopper takes charge and thinks about a plan. one involving another kidnap. he stands by the window and holds the dry erase marker, “we kidnap a chopper from the base, fly straight up the wormhole, drop in hot, grab the kids, take out vecna. simple.”
dustin throws his hands up, “this rotor's are like 40 feet wide," he argues, gesturing wildly at the diagram, "it's too big, it is not gonna fit."
robin, standing beside mike with her arms crossed, catches your eye at the exact moment dustin says “too big.” since her mouth twitches with immaturity.
she flicks her gaze to steve perched beside you on the couch back, then back to you, that familiar devilish spark lighting up her face.
“steve hears that all the time from a certain individual,” she calls out, her voice cutting through the argument, “yet he goes in anyway. don’t you, steve?”
you smack a hand to your forehead, muttering, “robin?” in mock offense, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrays you.
steve scoffs at robin, almost offended, “what the hell is wrong with you?”
murray, sandwiched between you and the armrest, lets out a low, appreciative chuckle, “okay, that was funny.”
you elbow him lightly, still grinning despite the embarrassment. everyone in the room knows exactly what robin’s implying... especially now that the pregnancy news is out.
there’s no hiding the evidence of what you and steve do in your private time anymore.
hopper pinches the bridge of his nose, “everybody shut up.” his voice booms, “look—if somebody else has some magic bean that i don’t know about, i’m all ears. if not, it’s a risk we have to take. we fly, or we die.”
“we fly,” murray drawls, dragging the word out like he’s tasting it.
“well i guess we die,” dustin snaps back.
“we’re not gonna die if we commit to a plan!” hopper waves a hand, frustration felt deep in the lines of his face. at the time voices rise again mostly between dustin and hopper. it’s all noise, overlapping with everyone grasping at the same thin strands of hope.
you feel something twisting in your stomach... a cold, tight knot that has nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with a little girl lost in that red-black sky.
holly’s out there, trapped, and every raised voice feels like time slipping away.
before you could overthink, you feel a gentle poke on your shoulder.
you turn your head and steve’s looking around with his brow furrowed deep in thought, and his lips pressed together like he’s chewing on an idea. your man's eyes flick to you, hesitant, almost like he’s waiting for permission to speak up about a plan.
your eyebrows lift and a tiny, fond giggle bubbles up despite everything. you lean back just enough so only he can hear and whisper, “steve, you’re smart. if you have a magic bean plan, say something.”
steve's mouth quirks and he’s moving, hopping down from the couch back in one fluid motion.
“we don’t need a magic bean to climb,” he says from behind you, voice steady but not loud enough to cut through the arguing.
no one hears him since hopper’s gesturing again, and dustin’s talking over him.
steve tries again, louder, “we don’t need a magic bean!”
the room snaps to attention and all eyes turn to him. he lifts both hands in a small, apologetic gesture.
“sorry… we just… we don’t need it.” he steps forward, closer to the table, confidence growing as he speaks, “we’ve got a beanstalk right here.”
ten minutes later, the lounge empties slowly since everyone follows steve into the adjoining storage room where he talks about the correct plan to get into the abyss. he sounds smart, and it makes you smile as voices overlap in agreement.
as the conversation flows more roles get assigned, and the plan steve laid out is starting to take shape.
max is going to help with eleven and kali, erica and mr. clarke will be at the MAC-Z monitoring, and everyone else is pointed out and posted to go into the abyss.
one by one, everyone finds their place. joyce and murray will handle transport and extraction. hopper, nancy, lucas, jonathan, mike, dustin, robin, steve... they’ll climb the tower, cross into the abyss, and end this.
what shocks you is when silence falls when the assignments are done since you’re still standing behind nancy while beside robin with your hand resting low on your belly, feeling oddly outside of everything.
the knot that’s lived in your stomach since holly vanished tightens further.
“guys,” you say, voice quieter than you mean it to be. you step one stop forward, standing between nancy and robin.
everyone turns to you, “where… where am i in all of this? you never said my name for a role?”
the question hangs and you hate how small it sounds since nobody wants to speak up.
“i feel quiet,” you admit and the words are scraping out, “and lost right now.”
lucas starts, “well... um... you can come with us on the—”
“no!”
the refusal comes from nearly every adult at once and in sync. it comes from robin, nancy, hopper, joyce, murray, vickie, and loudest of all, steve.
meanwhile the chorus of it hits you like a wall, almost offensively.
you try to swallow the sting, but pregnancy hormones are cruel and efficient which makes your tears prick instantly, almost embarrassing in your mind.
that mind twists their protectiveness into something uglier... that you’re not needed and you’re fragile now.
useless.
“y/n,” nancy says softly, stepping closer and turning while reading the hurt on your face.
you lift your chin, “i am the only non-superpowered person in this room who has fought vecna 1v1 without getting cursed or broken into pieces. no offense, but i stood in that attic with a shotgun and a molotov and helped burn him. i’ve earned my place in this fight!”
you laugh, but it’s bitter, “yeah. sure. if thats the reason then I'll stay because i guess i’m just dumbed down to the pregnant woman who can’t do anything anymore.”
you know you’re not being fair.... you know it the second the words leave your mouth.
even max... in her wheelchair... has a crucial role in the fight and you’re being relegated to what? caretaker?
you turn before anyone can answer, bolting out of the room. your vision blurs with angry tears as steve calls your name. your man's footsteps are quick behind you, but you duck into the small staff bathroom down the hall, slam, and lock the door.
immediately as knocks come at the bathroom door, you sink onto the closed toilet lid with your elbows on knees, face in your hands, and finally let the sobs come.
it is quiet, choking, the kind that shake your whole body. you hate crying like this since you hate feeling benched and you hate that part of you knows they’re right and the rest of you feels erased.
“y/n?” steve’s voice is soft through the door, worried, “baby, please open up.”
“just leave me alone,” you manage.
there’s a pause for a minute..... then the lock clicks anyway.
you look up, indignant since you did not stand up to unlock the door.
when the door opens, you see steve before you see eleven behind him, with her hand lowered as she silently mumbles a “sorry,”
steve slips inside and shuts the door behind him, locking it again manually this time. he crouches in front of you immediately, hands gentle on your knees.
“hey hey,” he says, “look at me.”
you do, reluctantly. your face is a mess with tear-streaked mascara running down. he doesn’t care about your looks, since he cups your cheeks as his thumbs brush the wetness away.
“i’m not okay,” you whisper.
“i know.” he pulls you forward into his chest, arms wrapping around you tight. you resist for half a second, then fold with your face pressed to his shoulder, fresh tears soaking his shirt.
“look, please don't think that this is about you not being capable,” he murmurs into your hair, “this is about everyone, especially me, not surviving if something happened to you or the baby. i can’t—and I won’t risk that.”
you cling to him, the fight leaking out with every sob.
“i don’t want to be useless, steve.”
“you’re not. you’re never useless.” he pulls back just enough to look at you, “you’re carrying our kid. you’re keeping them safe just by breathing. that’s not nothing.”
before you could speak further, there’s a soft knock and nancy’s voice filters through.
“lovebirds? y/n, please come out. we do have a plan for you.”
you sniff, wiping your face.
“it’s not a pity role, is it?”
nancy opens the door slowly, and steve nods permission for her to fully open it.
“no. in fact, i thought of it the second you told me about the baby in the hospital.”
she gestures for you to follow her and curiosity overrides the hurt enough for you to stand. steve keeps your hand in his as you trail nancy to the smaller armory room down the hall.
after ten steps, steve lets go of your hand, and walks away leaving you with nancy as she leads you in the armory room. robin and vickie are there with robin halfway into camo pants and a long-sleeve, as vickie helps her lace boots.
nancy kneels by a black duffel bag and pulls out your sawed-off shotgun from last year... the one you wielded in the creel house attic like it was an extension of your arm.
then she hands you the flamethrower pack, fuel canister still half-full, nozzle scorched black from when you lit vecna up.
your breath catches since you take the shotgun when she offers it. the weight is familiar.
“you’re staying here,” nancy says, her voice steady but so kind, “since you’re guarding max.”
you open your mouth to protest, but she keeps going.
“yes, i know that’s not what you want... but we can’t risk you... or the baby two thousand feet up and in another dimension. if vecna sends anything back here for max again... demodogs, or bats even... everyone trusts you the most to handle it. you’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.”
robin finishes zipping her jacket, steps over, and bumps your shoulder.
“plus, someone’s gotta keep max from getting too bored. you’re the only one who can match her sarcasm.”
you look down at the shotgun in your hands, then at the flamethrower. it’s not the front line, and it’s not the abyss.... but it’s not nothing.
“that’s my first motherly sacrifice for this baby, huh? not being able to jump into a physical fight?” you say, half-joking, voice still wobbly.
nancy smiles, stepping close and resting both hands gently on your small bump, “yeah... and it won’t be the last.”
“y/n... i can’t believe you’re someone’s mother,” vickie says, awed.
“that’s not even shocking, honestly,” robin adds, pulling her own hair back with a blue hairclip, “you and steve have been the group parents for years... and that is skipping the girl-talk details you’ve shared…” she winks, “and now look at you. one beautiful young mama who’s growing her baby while still helping save the world.”
she wraps you in a tight hug, and her camo rough against your body.
you hug back hard, breathing her vanilla scent in. when you pull away, you walk back to the main room together.
steve is there, freshly changed into dark green cargo pants, with a dark shirt, a darker jacket, and that old black backwards cap with a few strands of hair escaping around the edges.
the whole look is… unfairly hot.
your hormones hit like a bus since heat floods you from chest to toes, and you have to bite your lip to keep from staring at steve too obviously.
however, some logic kicks in when you see him fumbling with a grey pistol, trying to load the magazine and clearly having no idea what he’s doing.
you jog over, laughing despite everything.
“hey, hey.” you catch his arm, “you haven’t shot a real gun before, have you?”
steve gives a sheepish grin, “well, not all of us are as cool as you... but I've shot... like… bb guns.... flare guns.... and duck hunt.”
you snort, taking the pistol and sliding the magazine in smoothly, racking the slide with practiced ease, “we’ll get you a shotgun. less finesse required.”
he watches you, eyes soft, then leans in and kisses you... slow like he’s memorizing the feel of you before he leaves.
you pull back just enough to rest your forehead against his.
“also steve... just an fyi,” you say, bright and sarcastic, “if you go up there, play hero, and die… i will revive you and then kill you again myself.”
“and i’ll join in,” robin calls from across the room, slinging a flare gun holster over her shoulder.
steve chuckles, but his eyes are serious, “i won’t die. i promise.”
he drops to one knee suddenly, pressing a soft kiss to your belly through the green shirt.
“your dad’s coming back,” he whispers against the fabric, “both of us are.”
you roll your eyes playfully at him, but your throat tightens when he stands, squeezes your hand once more, then heads over to dustin to finish gearing up.
you walk to max, settling into the chair beside her wheelchair with your sawed off shotgun across your lap, and a flamethrower tank propped nearby.
yes, you are on guard duty as an armed babysitter, or the hundredth time.
it’s not the abyss, but it’s something.
an hour passes by and the station feels too big and too empty now that everyone’s gone. the lounge lights are dimmed to conserve power, casting long shadows across the mismatched furniture but the only noises are the occasional crackle of static from the walkie on the coffee table.
you’re stretched out on the sagging black leather couch, one arm draped protectively over your small bump, and the other hanging off the edge near the sawed-off shotgun propped against the side table. your leg bounces restlessly, heel tapping an anxious rhythm against the floor.
you’re trying to rest with doctor’s orders, and steve’s pleading eyes before he left... but sleep won’t come, and it shouldn't at this exact time.
every time you close your eyes you see the tower, the rift, the red sky, and you see steve’s face when he promised he’d come back. you need him to come back more than anyone else up there, and you need him safe and whole and walking through that door so you can stop feeling like your heart is being squeezed in a fist.
vickie paces the length of the room for the hundredth time, with her nurse shoes scuffing softly against the worn floor. the girl's hands twist together, then release, then twist again. the motion is making your own nerves fray faster.
so, you close your eyes for a couple of minutes and nearly slip into darkness.
“y/n.”
max’s voice cuts through the quiet and you open your eyes and turn your head. she’s parked her wheelchair at the end of the couch, facing you, red braided hair catching the faint glow from the exit sign.
“i know you don’t want to be here right now,” she says, a smirk tugging at her lips, “but i’m not sure if sleeping is a good option.”
you huff a tired laugh, pushing yourself up on one elbow, “sorry, ms. legs, pregnancy is tiring.”
max snorts, “tell me about it... i’ve been in casts for months and i’m still exhausted.”
there’s a beat of comfortable quiet as you sit up fully, swinging your legs off the couch, and rub at your eyes.
“you know,” max says softer, “i missed you a lot.”
you blink at her, “you missed me? but you were… in the trance.”
“yeah,” she shrugs, looking down at her hands for a second, “but i was still trapped in that cave in henry's mind, just wishing to be back here.... I mean... you were the third person i missed the most.”
you scoff, half offended, half fond, “third?”
max’s smirk returns full force, “lucas first, obviously. eleven second. you third. don’t take it personally.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now, “well, who am i to think i rank above lucas and eleven.”
max’s grin widens, genuine and bright, the kind you haven’t seen from her in too long.
unfortunately vickie’s voice breaks the moment, “ughhh, okay what is taking them so long?” she’s pacing again, faster this time, arms wrapped around herself.
you like vickie... she’s sweet, funny, and matches robin’s energy in a way that makes your best friend light up... but right now her spiraling is not helping.
“i don’t know,” max answers dryly, “maybe something to do with the fact that it’s a five-hundred-foot tower and they’re trying to cross into another dimension.”
“if something’s wrong, they’ll contact us, vick,” you say, trying to sound calm even though your own leg has started bouncing again.
“yeah, no, yeah,” vickie nods too fast, “i mean—unless they’re already dead!”
“don’t put that out there,” you groan, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes.
“okay—i’m sorry!” vickie winces, “i’m stressed and stress gives me the munchies, so um—” she looks between you and max, “do you guys want anything?”
you drop your hands, “anything that does not have peanut butter, nor soy, please.”
max shakes her head, “i’m good.”
vickie nods and hurries off toward the small kitchenette area, clearly grateful for something to do.
you watch her go, then turn back to max... just in time to see her eyes roll back, whites showing, body going rigid in the chair. your heart lurches before remembering that this is the plan for her.
kali and eleven are linking with her through the void, using her connection to vecna’s memories to guide the team. however, seeing max with her face slack and her head tilting back still sends ice down your spine.
you’re on your feet in an instant, shotgun snatched from the table, while racking the slide with a sharp metallic cha-chunk (lol).
adrenaline floods your system, sharpening your senses to the hum of the lights, to the distant clatter of vickie rummaging in the kitchen, and the soft rise and fall of max’s chest proving she’s still breathing.
you start pacing around the station slowly with deliberate loops around the lounge, eyes scanning every object, every doorway, every window.
the flamethrower tank is propped near the couch... you keep it in your peripheral as you move on guard duty so you won’t fall asleep.
unfortunately, you walk around for thirty minutes in suffocating silence.
you’ve migrated to the kitchenette, pacing in slow circles with an apple in hand, biting into it more for something to do than actual hunger. the crisp snap of each bite echoes too loud in the empty station since vickie opted to stay quiet around an unconscious max.
your shotgun leans against the counter within arm’s reach, a constant reminder of your role tonight since you were prohibited to go into the abyss.
however, nothing happens here in the station. there is no growls from the shadows and no bats snaking through cracked windows. there is only static from the radio waiting for a check-in that hasn’t come.
you press a hand to your belly, feeling the faint flutter there like the baby knows you’re on edge.
“they’re okay,” you whisper to the quiet room, more for yourself than anyone else, “they have to be.”
vickie’s still making a path on the floor in the lounge, muttering numbers under her breath about how long it should take to climb, how long to cross, how long to fight. max sits motionless in her trance, head tilted back slightly, eyes pure white.
you take another bite of the apple, juice running down your chin. once you walk to the opposite side of the building, vickie suddenly bolts to you with her face pale as a blanket sheet.
“y/n.. there are vans outside. military vans.... lots of them coming!”
your stomach drops and the apple slips from your fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud as you run to the window three strides, peering through the blinds and floodlights sweep the parking lot.
“fuck,” you breathe, “the fucking military!”
this wasn’t the plan.
you were ready for demodogs, for bats, for vines of vecna's arms bursting through the walls. it is the supernatural you can fight since you have grown to learn how to survive the supernatural.
humans with guns and orders, you cannot survive now.
a year ago you would’ve grabbed the shotgun, taken a stand, rained hell on anyone trying to intrude on your plans but now your mind drifts instinctively to your belly... now there’s another being to consider.
“we need to hide now,” you say to vickie, urgently.
thankfully, there’s an emergency hideout spot robin showed everyone earlier. it is a false panel behind a tall bookshelf in the storage room. small, cramped, but concealed.
vickie’s already moving, wheeling max’s chair as gently and quickly as she can. max’s body is limp in the trance, with her head lolling as you ditch the shotgun since it is too noisy, and too bulky. you decide to prop it behind the counter where it won’t be immediately seen then you sprint ahead, flinging the bookshelf open with a grunt.
the false wall yawns behind it, a narrow crawlspace barely big enough for three. you help vickie maneuver max inside first, wheelchair and all... it’s tight, but it fits. afterwards vickie and you go through before the shelf is pulled shut behind you with the hidden latch.
as you sat silently, the smell of dust and old paper hit your olfactory nerves. you sit behind vickie with max’s wheelchair taking up most of the space in front of you. your knees are drawn up, one hand braced against the wall, the other resting protectively over your bump.
outside, the front door splinters with a sharp crack with boots thundering across the floor. there are muffled commands along the lines of “clear,” “check the back,” and “secure the radios."
looking down, you can see flashlight beams sweep under the bookshelf crack, painting thin lines of light across your shoes.
you hold your breath as vickie’s hand finds yours in the dim light and squeezes hard as you squeeze back.
five minutes drag on then max gasps loudly with her body jerking forward when she snaps out of the trance. at that, your heart plummets and your eyes wide at vickie.
the bookshelf wrenches open almost immediately and light floods in. you squint, raising a hand against the glare.
a woman stands there with short-cropped blonde hair, sharp features, and military fatigues. she doesn’t point a gun, all she does is lookdown at the three of you with a calm, almost amused expression.
“hi there,” she says, voice smooth.
behind her, soldiers move in.
one reaches for you with his grip on your upper arm surprisingly gentle, but firm. you stand slowly, legs shaky, and quietly ask, “can you loosen it a little? I can't run.”
he does, fractionally.
they march you out to one of the vans parked in the lot. the night air is cold, biting through your green shirt.
you’re helped up into the back as max lifted in her chair while vickie climbs in beside her.
you sit on the bench seat, pulling the seatbelt across yourself out of habit.
the woman with short hair... dr. kay, you overhear someone call her... pauses at the open door, eyes scanning the three of you.
however, gaze lingers on you longest.
you swallow, nervous as she looks at the way the seatbelt crosses your body, which pulls the fabric of your shirt over the unmistakable swell of your belly.
something shifts in dr.kay's expression.
calculation, maybe, or an idea forming.
suddenly, she scoffs softly almost to herself, muttering “never mind” under her breath, like she’s dismissing whatever thought just crossed her mind about you and your pregnant stomach.
she turns away, slamming the doors shut and the van lurches into motion a second later, with the tires crunching over gravel.
you sit in the dark between max and vickie, with your heart hammering and one hand cradling your stomach since you were supposed to fight monsters tonight.
instead, you’re being taken straight into the MAC-Z full of people who’ve been hunting your family for years and you have a gut feeling that are about to get much worse before they ever get better.
and you were right.
the vans slow to a halt at the fortified gate with engines idling low and menacing. your hands won’t stop shaking since through the small tinted window you can see soldiers fanning out, rifles raised, floodlights cutting harsh white beams across the asphalt.
they’re setting up an ambush and waiting for the others to come stumbling out of the gate, exhausted and victorious by defeating vecna, only to be taken.
you feel sick, and even so helpless.
when the doors fly open., you know that means the group arrived back into the real world. you’re pulled out into the cold night air seeing the military swarm your friends. vickie on one side of you, with max ad her wheelchair in-front of you. your legs feel like water, but you stay upright, eyes widened in horror as steve and robin are slammed against the side of a truck almost immediately.
steve’s head knocks hard against the metal and he grunts, struggling. robin swears loudly, kicking out and terrified at the amount of loud men yelling at her.
your heart seizes and you take half a step forward, panic clawing up your throat, but vickie’s hand clamps around your wrist, pulling you back.
“don’t,” she whispers, voice trembling.
you watch in horror as robin pleads for the men to calm down. what happened? is vecna dead? where are all of the kids?
max yelps beside you, “what is she doing?”
at first you think she means dr. kay, the woman with the short blonde hair striding forward like she owns the night.
suddenly, mike’s voice cracks through the chaos with desperate yelling.
when mike runs towards the gate, you turn your head and see eleven standing in the upside down... alone.
she is standing in the fading red slash of the rift, small against the exploding black sky behind her. debris whips around her in violent spirals. there are chunks of metal, rock, ash, and everything the collapsing abyss is spitting out as it dies.
when el doesn’t move, and she stands there in tears, you realize that she’s not coming through. mike is fighting a soldier tooth and nail, screaming her name while trying to free her from sacrificing, “el! el, no! el!”
your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
el, don’t.
the wind howls harder as the explosion of the abyss reaches her. the sky in the upside down itself is tearing apart and everyone is screaming now with hopper roaring, nancy’s voice breaking, joyce sobbing mike’s name as he almost breaks free to run towards el.
you can’t move as tears spill hot down your cheeks, freezing in the night air. everything you ever wished for her... safety, peace, a real life... slips away in front of you.
steve’s face across the lot mirrors yours. it is helpless, terrified, eyes wide in horror. the wind becomes a hurricane as the blast wave hits eleven full force.
for one impossible second she’s silhouetted against the firestorm and you close your eyes and turn away, before you could see her fully go.
the screams, mike’s most of all, tell you everything as the wind hits everyone hard. the roaring continues and you kneel on your knees, covering your ears and eyes and anything that can take you away from here.
there is only silence once mike stop screaming. at that moment, you open your eyes to see that the gate is gone... just a destroyed building where the rift had been.
everyone stares at the empty space, frozen in horror as to what had happened.
steve is still with his chest heaving, with his face streaked with dirt.
as if he noticed your presence in that moment, he turns his head and looks past the soldiers, past the trucks, and his eyes land on you.
steve's eyes widen. he hadn’t known you were here and captured by the military. he jerks against the soldier holding him, shouting your name, but the man keeps a hold on him to stay put.
you can’t hear steve calling for you over the ringing in your ears, but you see his mouth form the shape.
you sink slowly on the cold ground, with one hand on your belly, the other pressed to your mouth to hold in the sound that wants to come out.
eleven is gone and she closed the gate.
she ended everything, and she paid the price so the rest of you could live.
summary ༺๑ˊ- loving on phenomaman as he struggles loving himself sometimes.
pairing(s) ༺๑ˊ- phenomaman / katon-ur x gn!reader
cws ༺๑ˊ- established relationship, loooots of kisses, themes of body worship, intimate fluff
pitiful. that was the look phenomaman was giving you.
you knew that look, the one where his bottom lip slightly jut out, his head bobbed down and the way his eyes peeked up at you like a guilty dog.
he looked almost dejected, like someone just called him hideous or something. well, that wasn't necessarily a lie. that's what he kept calling himself. his mind was still wrapped up in his home planet, how he is ugly there.
but to you, phenomaman was ethereal. tall, muscular, but soft. gentle, loving, and lovable. that's how you would describe your lover, though words don't seem to get through him when he's in this down state.
so, you remind yourself that actions speak louder than words.
that's what brought you here, settled on top of him and your lips exploring every little inch of his being.
"what... are you doing?" he peeked down at you where you were straddling his hips. he let out a shaky breath as your lips brushed where his chest peeked out from the collar of his shirt.
"loving on you." you stated bluntly, as if you were concentrated and couldn't be interrupted from your task.
which, you were. this was serious business.
phenomaman didn't have a chance to ask anything else before feeling you grab the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling up the soft fabric to reveal his stomach to your gaze.
he was built, yes, but he had this gorgeous layer of fat over the muscle that left him warm and soft. god, he was so perfect.
his breath hitched as he felt your lips plant a single kiss beneath his navel, the muscles under your lips twitching slightly. instinctively, he tries to pull his shirt back down.
"let me make love to you." you murmured, putting your hand over his much larger one. oh, making love, he knew what that meant. he loved making love with people.
you smiled to yourself as you felt him melt back against the plush bed.
your lips explored his stomach, kissing up the center line of it before nosing affectionately at his waist. phenomaman let out a few breaths, the ticklishness of your loving caresses making his cheeks grow warm.
"you're so perfect." you whispered, kissing his hip. "so pretty, so beautiful, oh my god i can't stand it..." a hint of cuteness aggression snuck out in your voice, your hands gripping at his waist slightly.
for once, phenomaman didn't have much to say. he was loving it, his eyes closed in bliss as his fingers almost pet your head, like he wanted to return the favor.
"this feels quite... good." he finally spoke, his voice filled with gentle warmth, albeit a bit flustered. "yeah?" that brought a satisfied smile to pull at your lips.
he was just so cute. odd word to use for an all-powerful alien who could definitely destroy the earth if he so pleased, but to you, he was just a love-sick puppy.
it only encouraged you to keep going, nosing slightly at his happy trail as your hands slid up his sides, just wanting to feel him as much as you can. he was addicting to touch.
but phenomaman, katon-ur, wasn't complaining. he'd move the stars in the sky if that meant having you love him like this.
