ยท ยท ยท A WOLF IN SHEEPโS CLOTHING (SLIPPING) | STALKER!ASHVEIL X FEM!READER
Ashveil's curiosity about you tends to bring out the worst in himโenough for him to regularly trail you like a shadow while you remain blissfully unaware of his influence over your surroundings. But once mere whiffs of you are no longer enough, he finds himself inserting his way into your life instead, hoping to receive more of the goodness that is you. Now he's no longer sure if he can handle the consequences. His mouth opens far too easily, spilling compromising words before he can stop them, which raises the question of how much time he has left before you finally figure him out. | word count: 17,7k.
โข CONTENTS: not suitable for minors, yandere themes, plot & some smut, spoilers for ashveilโs lore and the quests up till version 4.1, sex that turns dub-con, stalking & breaking in, a bit of dark comedy, reader has a dog named princess, heavily focused on ashveil's perspective, angst (mostly regarding ashveil who struggles with self-worth and dehumanizes himself), suicidal thoughts, masochism, manipulation, slapping, threatening, intrusion of privacy, masturbation, unprotected & rough sex, come eating.
โข A/N: This story is loosely inspired by the TV show "You" (or at least what I remember of it from watching it years ago); though here, Ashveil is far different from Joe Goldberg. This is my first time writing for Ash, so I hope you enjoy the results. I also made a playlist that reminds me of Ashveil that might fit the story as well โก(แตแดฅแต). Divider source.
There is little in this world that Ashveil does not regret.
Across Amber Eras, his mind has gathered enough sins, corpses, and broken promises to viciously haunt him every night without fail.
The loss of life. The pain he has inflicted. The betrayals. Those linger longest, rotting and resisting loudly beneath his fleshโold wounds that have never healed properly that he only covers.
What he cannot fully bring himself to regret is meeting you, for better or for worse.
Even now, knowing well he keeps inserting himself into your story he has no place in, he cannot stop returning. Your warmth tends to obstructs any rational thought, luring him back to your doorstep at least once every month like clockwork. He keeps his old watch that shows delayed time in hopes for ruthless time slowing along, but when it comes to you, he fantasizes about days passing faster just so he can find another excuse to visit your house.
The warmth of another person, while elusive, fleeting, ready to be dispersed like dandelions, is also fulfilling and solacing. It is comforting in a way nothing else in the cosmos has ever managed to, and he suspects even aeons crave it. So he clings to yours with all the starving of a man offered scraps for the first time in years, foolishly hoping that one day you might fully envelop him in your sunlight.
People come and go; Ashveil wants to make you eternal in your goodness.
Like a kicked stray crawling back toward the hand that fed it, even if just once, he drags himself to your house again today.
He knows better than to use the front entrance. Your security camera reaches the spot clearly. Slipping through the ventilation system in the back is a safer option. More humiliating, perhaps, but at least that makes him feel like he has earned a quarter of right to be here.
Bless you for choosing a house tucked into the quieter backstreets of the Duomension City instead of one of those towering apartment complexes with security systems vicious enough to rival prison architectureโeven just your hypothetical neighbors would be capable of throwing a wrench into his plans, an army made of hundreds of gawking eyes.
The sight greeting him after he kicks off his shoes is comforting, even if a certain element of it strives to make him less welcome.
Your dog, some breed of rather big posture, lies sprawled across the the living room floorboards like sheโs the owner here. The moment her eyes crack open and settle on him, she sizes him up with the same unimpressed stare she always gives himโas though fully aware there are currently two dogs in the house, and that only one of them is actually wanted here.
โOopsie. Did I wake you up, Princess?โ he asks in the middle of letting out a yawn himself. โSorry about that.โ
Coming here this early means sacrificing another morning of sleep, but lately, he has been missing you(r home) too much to care. The city outside keeps growing louder and crueler, and itโs your house that remains one of the few places that still feels stagnant; he keeps it warm for you as you work.
Princessโs gaze finally shifts towards the treat sachet dangling from his hand. A spark of life finally enters her eyes. Unlike him, sheโd never sell herself short.
โYes, look what I brought you!โ He grins, shaking the package lightly.
But even if she can hear the rustling of dried meat inside, she only swishes her tail once. Sheโs that spoiled by you.
Still, she rises from the floor with reluctance, and all dignified, she approaches him to collect her bribe. Ashveil crouches in front of her, scratching behind her ears while offering the treat with the other hand.
โI know, donโt give me that look,โ he mutters with a whine to it. โYour mom definitely would not approve of me feeding you.โ He even calls you a dog mom now. โOr approve of many other things for that matterโฆโ he says wryly. โIn any caseโฆ Iโll have to convert you to healthier snacks soonโฆโ
She huffs through her snout, snatches the treat between her teeth, and trots off toward the kitchen. Her tail lingers around the corner for one last second before disappearing completely.
Ashveil watches her go, his own type of hunger burning at his loins already.
He makes his way toward your bedroom, no mistake in where heโs treading. The door shuts behind him, sealing his decision.
What he appreciates most about your room is the fact that it barely changes. The same wall color you must have once talked about with embarrassing enthusiasm, the same clutter of trinkets gathered over the years, the same hurried little messes left behind before work, the same scent woven stubbornly into the sheets and curtains and air itself.
This room is always there to welcome him while the rest of Planarcadia tears itself apart outside, on race towards greatness.
Or at least, he makes himself welcome here. Some vagabond he is.
He knows every corner already, yet he still finds himself looking around each visit, searching for tiny additions or changes. They are the intimate bridge connecting you and him, enough for him to feel included. They are also a proof that your life continues moving even when he is absent from it, a scary food for thought.
At the same time, he avoids touching most of your belongings whenever possible. Partially because of evidence. Mostly because he wants to preserve you exactly as you are, frozen safely in time for him.
Albeit, today, he possesses far less restraint than usual.
After confirming little has changedโwhile deliberately avoiding looking for too long at one particular object near your nightstandโhe collapses face-first onto your bed with a groan.
His hand finds the tissue box automatically even with his face buried deep in your pillows. One tissue missing each month surely goes unnoticed. Three, at worst. Hopefully.
Your sheets envelop him in familiar warmth exactly as anticipated, just as they do whenever stress begins gnawing through him alive again and he runs here to his sanctuary. It takes all his self-control not to burrow completely beneath the blankets and pretend you are here beside him. If he crawls fully under the covers, he fears he may never want to crawl back outโsome exhausted animal hibernating itself away for winter.
He inhales deeply, catching the remnants of your shampoo, your lotion, traces of your rushed morning routine still attached faintly against the fabric. The thought of watching you tending to yourself alone makes him dizzy; you deserve all the best things.
By the time he unzips his pants, his body already feels unbearably heavy with need. Itโs been so long, since he ever felt that sort of desire, most of it being subdued by years of him pushing through with little ardor.
Ashveil presses himself into the mattress with a muffled sigh, grinding down slowly against the sheets while his thoughts drift somewhere nicerโฆ and dangerous.
Your fingers combing gently through his hair, you telling him you want him hereโฆ that he can stay. A ridiculous thought suddenly surfaces in his mind too: if he commissioned an artist to paint you saying those words, would wishpower eventually bend reality enough to make it true?
Other fantasies creep in afterward.
You calling him disgusting while he desperately insists he can still be useful to you. Your hand gripping his jaw while he promises to behave. Teeth sinking into his skin hard enough to draw blood while he thanks you for it, for he can feel the misery pour out in torrents.
He supposes that both versions have their own rights, so long their manifestations are coming from you. So do they have potential to ruin him.
As he jerks his hips for the final time, the movement shifts your mattress enough to knock something off the nightstand. Ashveil sighs and reaches down towards the floor, nearly sliding off the bed entirely from the weakness now melting his limbs.
His mouth goes dry.
Your toy lies there beside the bed, still connected to its charging cable. You either use it often, or intend to do so after longer break.
It is sordid, the way his mind immediately wanders to the obvious regions: you spread on this bed and flushed with heat, thighs trembling around the toy you force into yourself, while soft sounds spill from your mouth into the dark. Maybe thinking of someone.
Hopefully him. The thought of it being anyone else strikes him with an equally unhealthy amount of anger and anxiety.
He wonders briefly whether your preference for toys over people is intentional rather than circumstantial. From everything he has gathered, you have not sought comfort from anyone else lately. Thankfully; that would complicate everything he has so carefully built between the two of you as your โfriend.โ
Modern relationships still confuse him somewhat. People seem to fall into each otherโs beds so casually, or on Planarcadia, even for the sake of livestream challenges. He is selfishly grateful you havenโt been there yet.
All the more, he believes he could do you so much better than a stranger. He knowsโnot thinks, knowsโhe could please you better than some stranger ever could. He would know exactly where to touch, where to linger, where to soothe, where to provoke.
Where to bite.
And he would let you use him however you wished afterward, too. His thoughts have ranged through every imaginable scenario over the months: you gripping his hair, your teeth buried into his shoulder, your nails opening his skinโฆ even you taking his breath away from above him, watching him plea you for mercy.
The sheer intensity of it suddenly overwhelms him, and with desire threatening to unfurl again, he springs into movement.
Inside your bathroom, he flushes down the mess he caught into the tissue and washes his hands thoroughly.
Your mirror is cruelly bright, framed by harsh white scene bulbs that expose every exhausted detail of his face. He stares at himself for a long moment before biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed, a reminder to keep going for there is still some things he owes you and other people.
Ashveil makes another empty promise. This is the last time, really. Not only because it is riskyโit is rapidly not becoming enough anymore.
On his way out, he checks on Princess, she making your kitchen her playground too. Unfortunately, she has transformed the floor into a small field of crumbs.
โAh, ah, ah.โ Ashveil clicks his tongue and points at the small mess sheโs made. โNo crumbles at the crime scene, Princess.โ
The dog lifts her head wearily. Begrudging, she licks the floor clean.
โGood girl.โ
Although midway through cleaning, she stares at him with suspicion.
โDonโt look at me like that,โ he laughs. โYouโre still the favorite. You can make a bit of space for this old man, hm?โ
For a moment, he considers staying around for a while longer, maybe to watch one of your favorite movies and take a bath. Ultimately, something gnaws at him to leave sooner than usual.
He checks his phone and as it turns out, heโs right.
Walking your dog through every corner of the the city has long since become part of your routine as a responsible owner. However, Princess still gets overwhelmed easily by the fulgent lights and noise of Duomension City, so whenever you can spare time, you like taking her to slightly less vibrant Seafeld City instead, accessed through one of the train lines of Planarcadia.
There are all kinds of people to encounter on the daily walkโor non-people, quite often. Navigating the streets has only grown more difficult over the years, each district louder and stranger than the last, as though every possible sensory experience is fighting for oneโs attention at once. Those neon lights burn your vision from every angle, advertisements and TV presenters speak over one another through giant floating screens, imaginae creatures drift across the artificial sky, delivery bots zip recklessly between crows, and someone is always shoving a camera against your face.
The people themselves are no less extravagant: entrepreneurs, IPC workers, livestreamers, gangsters, artists, cult members, police officers, students, and occasionally, private detectives.
Ashveil, the ace detective of the Ashen Detective Agency whom you have somehow become acquainted with over the past months, remains one of the strangest examples you have encountered yet, Even for a planet of Elation, where absurdity is the norm, he ranks high in just how odd things can getโenough to draw your curiosity.
But strange does not necessarily mean unkind.
If anything, you have found it alarmingly easy to pity him ever since your first meeting, unconsciously assigning him the image of something half-pathetic, half-endearing after only a single interaction.
Watching him struggle to pay for his food probably had not helped. Still, times are tough for everyone, arenโt they? And you are not heartless.
A friend in need is a friend indeed.
So the first time you met him in Dovebrook Districtโstanding awkwardly between a frustrated customer and a delivery worker arguing over a failed orderโyou simply transferred the missing amount without thinking too deeply about it. A tiny gesture from a passing stranger should have ended there.
Instead, Ashveil accepted your kindness as something important, revolutionary even, and for reasons you still do not fully understand, itโs as if he has been trying to repay you ever since.
At this point, you have somehow acquired a deeply devoted assistant. He walks you home. Keeps an eye on whether anyone suspicious lingers nearby. Appears whenever you complain about a problem, often before you even properly ask for help. He listens to you ramble after difficult workdays with extraordinary patience, and once, after noticing you rubbing at your shoulders too much, he even insisted on massaging the tension out himself.
Safe to say, the two of you have grown rather close. Friends, maybe. In any case, you donโt have it in your heart to tell him to stop, seeing his enthusiasm.
If only you knew.
โGood morning.โ
Speak of the devil. Ashveil holding his cane appears just as you cross the road toward the shopping district, weaving through pedestrians until he reaches your side with the ease of someone accustomed to navigating crowded street. He looks like he has only crawled out of fridge bed, suppressing a yawn behind his hand while blinking away the last traces of sleep, yet the moment his gaze lands on you, his attention sharpens completely.
โMorning, Ashveil,โ you greet with a smile as you halt your walk on the other side of the street. โDid you get up just to see me?โ
The tease slips out effortlessly. You mean nothing serious by it. After all, you texted him earlier that you managed to leave work ahead of schedule, and so now he has come to meet you. The fact he somehow knew exactly where to find you does not strike you as particularly strange anymore, even if you didnโt share your location with him. You simply assume he is a detective talented enough, just a one with abysmal commercial instincts and maybe a bit of bad luck.
Ashveil laughs immediately, a little too fast, eyes darting aside with flusher hidden beneath the performance.
โNo,โ he says at once, lifting his brows as though the suggestion itself is ridiculous.
Yes. Absolutely yes.
He skipped breakfast entirely and practically launched himself out of the agency the moment he saw you leaving for work through the security camera feed he absolutely should not have access to. Not that heโs tech-savvy. He had to save money for weeks to pay some dude to install this one shady app on his phone.
โI had a case this morning,โ he continues smoothly, crossing his arms. โVery demanding. Didnโt even have time to grab coffee.โ His voice turns dramatically mournful as he shakes his head. โCruel world, isnโt it?โ
โOh no, what will my poor detective do without coffee?โ you tease.
My detective. Well, technically you said my poor detective, but Ashveilโs mind catches on the possessive anyway.
My.
Poor is good too, admittedly. Poor sounds sympathetic. Tender.
No, no, noโpull yourself together, Ashveil.
Seriously, donโt do this to him. Donโt use that teasing voice like you actually care while meanwhile you are probably just making fun of him.
His thoughts briefly send another funny feeling into his throat this strange day.
โHa ha ha!โ he laughs again, a little louder than necessary before hurriedly redirecting himself. โAnyway. No pup with you today?โ
โNo. Sheโs probably still sleeping, buried under her blanketsโฆโ
Good. Running into your Princess could potentially create complications. He is yet to meet her officially, and heโs worried she might act too familiar with him, so he keeps telling you about dog allergy to keep her away.
You pull your phone from your bag and angle the screen toward him proudly, showing him a picture taken earlier that morning, before youโd leave for work. Princess lies cocooned beneath blankets with only the top of her head visible. โIsnโt she lovely?โ
โOh my goodness, she absolutely isโฆโ he says with genuine delight, sounding dangerously close to squealing. He saw Princess less than two hours ago, yet somehow the sight of her grumpy face still melts him instantly. More importantly, you wanted to share this moment with him specifically, and that alone makes warmth spread unpleasantly through his chest.
However, there is an even cuter thing standing directly beside him. Because with how close you are standing, he has full access to your face too. Itโs hard to not get distracted, watching the happy wrinkles of your eyes lifting.
He snaps his fingers in realization. โYou look quite radiant today. New face cream?โ
That explains why your pillow smelled so different this morningโฆ
You blink at him, tilting your head, with โhow did you know?โ plastered all over your face.
โWell.โ He shrugs with nonchalance, casually stepping back until he can lean against a nearby roadblock pole. โDetectives are supposed to notice minor details. Comes with the profession. To a discerning eye, thereโs always something new to spot.โ
Not that heโs as good at deduction or anything a detective would need to prosper like you think he is. Itโs mostly Mr N doing important research. He's more of a hard-boiled type. But, you believing in his skills is extremely useful, so he doesn't correct you.
โActually, itโs a serum,โ you correct playfully, locking your phone. โBut close enough.โ
Good. Excellent evenโyou didnโt lie to him. It is indeed the serum's effectโhe knows, considering he was standing in your bathroom this morning, staring directly at the bottle while trying not to think too hard about how you must look applying it with your gentle hands. How youโd apply for him too, willing to share. Itโs simply safer not to sound too accurate in his observations. The last thing he needs is for you to start seriously questioning how much he notices about you.
Maybe all these detective tutorials he read yet barely sustained knowledge from at the beginning of his career are actually starting to come in handyโhe does know you well by this point.
โSerum, cream, natural glowโwhatever,โ he says lightly. โYou look good.โ
Like, really good. Enough that he could eat you up. And you walk around, just like that? You better put a muzzle on him.
โThank you.โ You hesitate slightly before adding. โYouโฆ look well too.โ You adjust your grip on your bag.
Ouch. The hesitation stings more than it should.
Ashveil snorts, waving his hand dismissively. โAh, you donโt have to lie to spare my feelings. I know the eyebags are especially horrifying today.โ
โNo, Iโโ You look slightly panicked now, looking around as if searching for a clue. But the crowd passing by has its own business, sparing you little attention. You genuinely were trying to compliment him, but it came out half-assed. โI mean, sleeping in the fridge has to have someโฆ beautifying properties, right?โ you say it awkwardly, like you are trying very hard not to offend him. โThe coldness of it.โ Even if you still have no clue why he does that. You donโt want to make him uncomfortable by asking, in case itโs health-related.
Ashveil nearly laughs. He doesnโt know whether he should be offended or flattered that you tried to make him feel better.
โSure,โ he says dryly, โif your beauty standard is a product about to expire.โ
You let out a nervous chuckle.
โBut probably not as effective as youโre imagining,โ he continues before clearing his throat slightly, visibly trying to move on before the conversation drifts somewhere sincere. He clicks his cane against the stone below his feet. โSo, where are you heading? Shopping?โ
You are usually still at work at this hour. Meaning if he had decided to linger inside your house even a little longer today and probably missed your text, things could have ended catastrophically wrong.
Manifesting the end of his friendship act with you.
You nod, lighting up again. โUh, yeah. Like I have told you, work got called off because of some technical issues,โ you explain with an easy grin, satisfied to catch some respite. โSo I thought: why not go shopping?โ
โYeah, shoppingโs always great,โ Ashveil says a bit too enthusiastically, relief slipping into his voice before he can smooth it over. โWhy donโt Iโฆ accompany you? I mean, strange events have been occurring latelyโฆโ
Weird folks muttering about happiness. Gang members surfing through the crowds. Streamers appearing to suffer from some sort of neuroticism as they become only more aggressive about content-making. Itโs as if a wave of heat came across the planet and drove everyone mad.
โSo you think Iโm incapable of defending myself, detective?โ
The slower flutter of your lashes paired with slight, naughty curve of your lips confuses him for a moment. Youโre teasing him again, yet it seems different this time. Coy, challenging.
If he didnโt know better, he would think you were flirting with him. Or maybe you areโhe does occasionally have his clients hit on him in the act of desperation. The possibility of you doing that makes it harder to breathe, and he glues his gaze onto your neck he for some reason suddenly thinks of kissing.
Letโs see: if he allows himself too much hope, it becomes embarrassingly easy to lower his guard around youโmore than he has done so alreadyโand that is never wise if he ever was wise. And yet, after all the blood and exhaustion he quietly spends in your name, surely he deserves a little indulgence every now and then.
Not that you have ever asked for any of it. But people get hurt easily in this city. He simply prefers preventing unpleasant outcomes before they can reach you, especially if it means avoiding situations where you feel smothered by having an obvious bodyguard attached to your side.
You go about your day. He ensures it remains a safe one. Simple and easy. Sure, you would probably be horrified if you ever discovered the full extent of itโnot to jinx anythingโbutโ
โAshveil?โ
Your hand settles gently on his shoulder, grounding him back to you.
He blinks, for a moment mesmerized by the worried expression directed his way. The way your warmth permeates him makes breathing more worth it. Itโs no wonder he lets his guard down around you.
โHuh? Sorry.โ He rubs his face, exhaling through his teeth. โI didnโt sleep well. I meanโnot enough.โ
โOhโฆ โ Your brows knit together instantly. โThen, you shouldnโt force yourself to hang around for my sake. It's simple grocery shopping. Go home and rest,โ you reassure, so softly.
โNah.โ He adjust his hat, concealing his eyes more. โIโll survive. I donโt sleep very well during the day anyway.โ Those furbobo working below his agency make too much noise.
โWas that too much?โ you mumble out, lowering your hand which greatly disappoints him.
โWhat was?โ
โF-forget it.โ You immediately retreat from the moment, suddenly fascinated by anything else happening on the street instead.
And then it hits him. You were flirting with him. Actually flirting. And he completely missed it because every coherent thought leaves his body the second you pay him too much attention.
At one point, he even genuinely wondered whether he was developing dementia, perhaps erosion-related, because how else was he supposed to explain the dizziness, the lapses in judgment, the complete inability to think straight that began plaguing him seemingly out of nowhere? Only later did he realize the symptoms always worsened around you specifically.
Which, frankly, feels far more terminal.
โAnyway, โ he says quickly, recovering for your sake too, โIโm tagging along. Iโll even carry your bags free off charge.โ He presses one hand against his chest, as if speaking of noble sacrifice.
โYou charge women for carrying their bags?โ you ask, unimpressed.
โNo! Of course not.โ
โDonโt you take commissions for basically anything?โ
โCorrect.โ He lifts one finger, about to make a point. โBut never for gentlemanly behavior.โ
The proud smile on his face makes you snicker.
โWell, if we are going together,โ you glance towards one of the nearest coffee shops, โhow about, coffee first?โ
โThat sounds great.โ He really could use a cup. Maybe heโll stop slipping in front of you so much.
As the two of you get into walking side by side through the crowded streets, growing denser with every hour, a certain thought slowly forms in your mind. Youโve been meaning to ask him for a while now.
โHow do you always find me, anyway?โ you inquire curiously. โYou do that a lot, you know.โ
The question is innocent enough, but it still makes his guts churn.
Sure, you frequent popular areas, but Duomension City is enormous, sprawling endlessly in all that commercial enclosure of absurdity. But at some point, repeated coincidence stops feeling entirely convincing.
Ashveil opens his mouth, but he doesnโt explain himself immediately, deciding to be careful with what excuse he shall feed you this time. Thatโs the problem lately: he is becoming too transparent around you. The more truth he hides, the harder they become to contain, leaking out through careless comments and overfamiliar observations. How does one stay quiet about a person they're so terribly enamored with?
Nonchalance has never been his strong suit anyway, and he needs you that badly.
The fact youโre starting to notice certain patterns doesnโt help him either. People in Planarcadia move too fast to notice who revolves around them, too distracted by spectacle and noise and Phantasmoon Games and their own survival to question others too deeply.
Obviously, he cannot tell you the truth:
That he noticed you returning home during work hours through your own security camera feedโnot that long after your message has told himโpanicked something might have happened, and spent the last half hour discreetly trailing you to ensure you were alright.
So instead, he chooses the safer route. A little cruelty to balance things out. โYouโre pretty predictable,โ he says straightforwardly, yet not without wincing inwardly at how crude it must have sounded.
The manner in which he delivers his answer does have you scoffing. โExcuse me?โ You cross your arms and tap your feet against the ground impatiently after you pause your saunter.
Ashveil raises both hands at once in surrender, scrambling to soften the blow. He still cannot afford you hating him. That would be the end of him.
โI mean your routine is predictable,โ he corrects quickly. โConsistent. Which isnโt a bad thing, necessarilyโit just means itโs easy to recognize patterns, especially for someone trained to notice them. But other people might not be as harmless as me, which is why you should be careful about sharing your location publicly, posting photos in real time, downloading suspicious apps, orโโ
The detective lecture is intentional. If he keeps talking long enough, maybe you will forget to stay offended, jaded by his talk.
โOkay, okay,โ you heave a heavy sigh. โI got the memo.โ
Itโs ironic, your stalker warning you about stalkers. If it was another guy stalking you and Ashveil found out, heโd drag him to a police station. Except, in his humble opinion, he hardly qualifies as one. Stalkers have nefarious intensions. He, on the other hand, is simplyโฆconcernedโฆ Curious, perhaps excessively so, but ultimately helpful. If anything, unbeknownst to you, he has already prevented several unpleasant incidents from ever reaching youโฆ or your awareness, on that score.
You have no idea how many people have looked at you too long; how many revolting thoughts storm behind strangersโ eyes, perhaps similar to his and thatโs he knows it. And if that somehow makes him monstrous too, then at least let him be the lesser evil among all possible predators circling this planet.
He at least tries to constrain the beast.
โBut,โ he adds more lightly, โI pass through your district pretty often too. Iโm always outside looking for clients, remember? We naturally run into each other a lot.โ
Right. You have, in fact, witnessed him standing on sidewalks holding handwritten promotional signs like an absolute disaster of a businessman, desperately offering people business cards talking about two percent discounts with all the confidence of someone negotiating hostage terms.
โThat makes sense,โ you admit after a moment, scratching your cheek apologetically. โSorry if I sounded accusatory or anythingโฆโ
โNo,โ he shakes his head fervently. โAbsolutely not. Honestly, Iโm happy that youโre staying vigilant. Better safe than sorry, right?โ
Ashveil is annoyed, tapping the sole of his boot against the checkered tiles beneath the cafe table. Not even because you are paying for the coffeeโthough that certainly does not help his pride any, as he does think he should be doing better if he genuinely wants to impress you someday. Unfortunately, his earned money usually goes to other causes, first and foremost, and even if Pearlโs cases can pay handsomely, a big chunk of it goes to his old wounded friends in need of life better than his. First Fang duties.
From the small yellow table tucked near the windows, he has a clear view of you waiting in line at the screen register. The queue moves painfully slowly, bodies crammed shoulder-to-shoulder within the tiny pastel-colored space. You stand there patiently, studying the menu on the overhead screens cycling panels with ads and offers, despite having ordered here countless times already. Very cute, overall.
Unfortunately, you remain completely oblivious to the eyes drifting toward you from across the shopโor perhaps you have simply learned how to tune such things out after living in Duomension City long enough. Doesnโt matter, as Ashveil who has gained a nasty habit of overthinking about you notices them all immediately.
Eyes lingering over your body for too long. Eyes flicking towards your wallet. Eyes tracing the shape of your face while pretending not to stare. One man glancing between you and his phone and some weird attachment trap to it with growing interest. And Ashveil swears he is not merely being paranoid, not a victim of forgetting peopleโs innate curiosity.
He would gladly stand beside you right now if you had not specifically told him to keep thee table occupied. He already would have planted himself behind you like some feral guard dog pretending not to growl at strangers. Besides, if the coffee ends up being taken to go, your time together shortens considerably, and he would prefer delaying the inevitable end of this outing for as long as humanly possible. Choices, choicesโฆ
Then his instincts prove themselves correct. A man near the front of the line abruptly lifts his phone towards your face, livestream already active in app.
Ashveil sighs in vindication. See? He is right to worry. This city is full of freaks.
The streamer starts loudly rating peopleโs outfits for his audience, but his camera lingers on you for too long, drifting downward in ways that make Ashveilโs stomach tighten unpleasantly. When you politely ask the man to stop filming you, he merely laughs and steps closer instead, clearly encouraged by the audience reacting through the scrolling comments like some desperate.
Wonderful. For all intents and purposes, this man has just single-handedly reduced Ashveilโs guilt regarding stalking you by at least thirty percent.
As Ashveil rises from his seat, he shrugs his coat off onto the chair first. Spreading murderous intent throughout a coffee shop tends to alarm civilians, so he makes a genuine effort to calm himself down while approaching.
The streamer is still talking when Ashveil reaches him, coming up behind him like a ghost. Without warning, he casually presses the mute button on the small console panel on the screen.
โHeyโโ
โGive me the phone.โ
The streamer blinks, turning around. โWhat?โ
Ashveil smiles pleasantly. โTake your hands off the camera,โ he says quietly near the manโs ear, voice soft enough that the people aroundโyou especiallyโcannot properly pick it up over the shopโs noise, โor Iโll make sure they come off literally.โ
Meanwhile, he keeps his expression towards you entirely calm, meant to be reassuring.
The streamer goes pale almost immediately. Ashveil appears unassuming at first, but something about the shadowed look in his eyes, one of them twitching too, unsettles the streamer greatly. The cane Ashveil wields goes to press onto the guyโs feet nearly painfully too. โO-okay, chill,โ he mutters nervously. โI didnโt know she was your girlfriendโโ
โShe isnโt.โ Ashveilโs smile never wavers. โIs that the only reason you know how to behave?โ
The man stares at him, dumbfounded.
And for one brief second, Ashveil wonders if something slipped through his expressionโsomething hungry, older source, and certainly sharp enough to expose what truly sits beneath his skin.
Thankfully, the streamer backs away. โWhatever, man,โ he scoffs weakly before hurrying out of the care with his livestream still running. Other people around look startled for a moment, confused about what happened, but they quickly settle back.
Ashveil watches him leave, thinking what a hypocrite heโs starting to become.
Standing here acting holier-than-thou and outraged over another man reducing you into spectacle while he himself encroaches your routines, sneaks through your house vents, and spends sleepless nights imagining how you feel beneath him.
Sure, he has not acted on the ugliest thoughts yetโฆ But what happens if one day he finally does? He fights for justice, even at the cost of spilling blood, he hates hurting others, but when it comes to you, he breaks his own rules more often than not. Guilt exists in Ashveilโs heart for sure, but apparently not enough to set him backโnot when it comes to you, his special person and sunshine.
โYou good?โ he asks once he reaches you, his hand settling instinctively between your shoulder blades as you quickly finish order, not wanting to break your promise about caffeine fill.
โPerfectly fine,โ you insist. โThank you.โ
Still rattled, thoughโhe can feel the tension in your posture as he guides you away from the line.
For a moment after you sit down, some awkward silence fills the air around you. He can tell youโre trying to act unaffected by the encounter, clutching your wallet, but he doesnโt press you on, letting you calm down on your own.
Shortly after, one of the screens blinks your order number already. With how fast-progressing things are today, automatized with these mechatron workers especially, it is no surprise. โOh. Itโs our order.โ
He locates the counter and the tray waiting for you, patting your shoulder. โStay here. Iโll pick it up.โ
Heโs back in the blink of an eye, while youโre still fumbling with your wallet.
Trying to tuck it away, with how shaky your hands are from the unpleasant encounter, you accidentally bump the coffee cup. In result, hot coffee spills directly over his gloved left hand.
Ashveil absolutely could have moved away in time. He simply chose not to.
โOw,โ he hisses, pulling his hand back with a scowl. โThatโs savage.โ Honestly, the phantom pain in his prosthetic arm hurts infinitely worse on daily basisโand tears at him during fullmoon.
You gasp immediately. โAshveil! Oh my goodness, Iโm sorry, I didnโt mean toโฆโ
โItโs fineโโ
โNo, no, quickly, let me see.โ
Before he can protest further, you are already grabbing napkins and reaching for his hand with frantic concern. The moment your fingers carefully pull at his white glove, something devastating its surroundings storms inside his chest. There it is again, that warmth.
You dab gently at his fingers with a napkin while muttering anxious apologies under your breath, entirely focused on making sure he is alright and disregarding old scars. Ashveil watches you in silence, fighting the embarrassing urge to lace his fingers through yours properly, and imagining two worlds connecting. When did he become so sappy?
Your touch is absurdly tender. He cannot remember the last time someone handled him with care instead of annoyance or lust.
Some self-proclaimed lone wolf he is.
It is reckless, really. Someone in his position of being chased by ranger should avoid attracting attention, should avoid becoming emotionally attached, should avoid indulging in moments like these unless they become necessities instead of luxuries. So much for staying low. He might have to disappear from this planet tomorrow and what would he even do about you then?
Unfortunately, Ashveil has never been particularly good at denying himself where you are concerned. If anything, spending the rest of his miserable live serving you while receiving small fragments of affection in return sounds close enough to paradise. In his most delusional visions, you and him run away to some tropics together.
He watches the concern pinching your brows together, almost paining him as much, and he briefly wonders, not for the first time, how someone can possibly be this kind to him without realizing the danger of it. If anything, you barely know anything about him, not anything under the surface. Because the uglier feelings he usually tries to curb follow behind. He wants to devour you entirely, leave no bones, until you form an union with him, so no distance could ever exist between you two again.
โThere probably won't be a scar, I think,โ you murmur nervously, still inspecting his hand. Itโs really not that bad, as maybe a few splashes of coffee hit his hand and his glove soaked up the most. โBut maybe we should get this checked anywayโโ
โNo need.โ
โButโโ
Ashveil pats your hand before finally letting his fingers curl around yours under the guise of reassuranceโgently, as though he anticipates breaking you, though in truth, he can't take more of your touch and remain alright. The heat rushing through your skin soaks into his pores, rewriting whatever here might have started withering, and he imagines the vines of your kindness climbing his healthy arm in search for his heart already thrumming. โNow, now,โ he says softly, smiling goofily again. โIโm not that delicate. I promise.โ
You finally laugh a little, the remaining tension loosening from your shoulders. You even squeeze his hand twice, sending chills through him that have him shifting in his seat.
โFor what itโs worth, itโs good coffee they serve here,โ Ashveil praises after he takes a sip. He lets your hand go first, reluctantly.
โYeah?โ Your expression brightens even more. Truly precious. โI'm glad. Itโs my favorite place.โ
Of course he already knew it was yours. He memorized that months ago. Still, hearing you willingly bring him somewhere important to you makes his chest flutter strangely, as though his lungs are suddenly filling with cleaner air than the city normally allows him.
You realize something soon after. โYou know, Ashveilโฆโ You stir your drink absentmindedly. โI feel like our conversations tend to be pretty one-sidedโฆโ
Ashveil stills.
โAnd I feel bad about that,โ you continue. โSo I thought that maybe I could ask you more things about yourself instead?โ
That genuinely catches him off guard. He deliberately steers conversations toward you whenever possible, preferring to keep attention away from himself, yet somehow you interpreted that imbalance as your own failure instead.
Itโs dangerous, this type of care.
โHm. Well.โ He chuckles nearly in a jitterily manner, scratching his cheek. There is little to share that doesn't compromise your safety, and little to reveal that doesnโt pain him these days. Heโd look like a bleeding heart anyway. โI donโt know if thereโs that much interesting stuff to learn about me. I mostly just work, eat, and sleep.โ
โIโm not someone that special either,โ you protest, leaning closer. An outrageous lie, in his opinion. โYet we talk about me all the time,โ you continue. โSo Iโm sure thereโs something. Likeโฆโ You purse your lips in thoughtโanother thing he finds cute. He can imagine a lightbulb shining above your head as you come up with something. โWhatโs one of your dreams?โ
โMy dreams?โ he repeats, taken aback.
You could have asked about his favorite color. Food. Movie. You went straight for his throat instead. How touching. How scary.
Ashveil glances around the cafe. Different people fill every table: students, workers, exhausted commuters, streamers, couples, strangers. Loud, messy, and imperfect people, all trying to carve out somewhere to belong beneath the endless neon of this planet. If he stares long enough, he almost expects ghost from his part to emerge from the crowd and remind him that eventually he will lose you too.
It would be far wiser of him to give you some common crap, about money or fame. To say something simple and cheesy about retirement for a tropical island full of cheap sandals, happy dogs, and warm beaches. And yet, he naturally clings to the idea of you wanting to understand him, to take some of the burden off his shoulders even if guilt would strike him after.
โI thinkโฆโ He hesitates. โI wish everyone could have a place for themselves in this world.โ His voice lowers slightly. โSomewhere theyโre allowed to exist safely. Somewhere warm enough to return to at the end of the day.โ
You listen carefullyโsincerely, digging dagger into his heart this way.
โNo one should have to survive alone, or barely, if it can be helped,โ he admits after a moment, fingers drumming once against the cup. โI know thatโs naive, though.โ
โHm.โ Your smile softens immediately. โI think itโs a beautiful dream, Ashveil.โ
Your words arenโt dry or dismissive. There is no mockery in your voice. You seem to earnestly appreciate his answer and he cannot stop staring at you like this, his grey eyes gaining fragility over that sharpness from the moments ago.
You truly are a devil. Because he suddenly becomes aware of the hypocrisy sitting inside his head, both sides clashing there everyday. Pronouncing what he doesnโt deserve.
A man who claims to care about justice while quietly invading your life piece by piece out of selfish desperation. A man who wants to protect your freedom while simultaneously wanting you closer and closer until the line between affection and possession disappears completely.
Maybe someone would side with him and tell him, โyou deserve this after everything you have went through, old man.โ But he doesnโt wish to be a dead weight to you just because heโs broken.
They say ignorance is a bliss. They are darn right. Self-awareness does nothing except lets the guilt and greed eat him from the inside.
โIt is beautiful,โ he says quietly, his grip on the cup tightening, โbut not realistic. Most people never reach that kind of haven no matter how hard they try. Luck, or gods, they decide almost everything eventually.โ His mouth pulls into a solemn smile. โI get front row sears watching that happen.โ
You fall silent after that, as if you donโt know whether you should let him keep talking or nip it in the bud before the whole day has its charm ruined.
When you give him that uncertain look, a mix of worry and awkwardness, he suddenly realizes what an absolute mood killer he must be for a shopping trip. โSorry about that. I didnโt mean to murder your spirits.โ He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his nape as he leans safely away from you.
โNo.โ You shake your head. โI asked, remember? And Iโm happy you answered honestly.โ
He nods, strangely affected by that response. โThanks,โ he murmurs, almost shyly. He should be the wiser, protective figure here, as someone far older than you. โI appreciate that.โ
For a moment, he simply drums his fingers against the table, watching the vivid reflections ripple across the windows. Then he abruptly straightens.
โSo!โ His usual grin returns. โShopping?โ
โTotally.โ
โDogs used to have much less choice. So did consumers, honestly. Would you look at how fast things change?โ
โYou sound like an old man,โ you remark from beside him with a snort, your attention never leaving the enormous shelves packed with enough pet food brands to sustain an army of spoiled pets.
The pet industry has been thriving for decades already, capitalism evolving into some grotesque creature of its own. Colorful packaging stretches endlessly across the aisle, each product screaming promises about healthier fur, stronger teeth, shinier eyes, happier digestion, longer lives. Even the bags themselves are glossy enough to rival cosmetic advertisements.
Ashveil stiffens slightly beside the shopping cart.
โCome on, who even needs all this? This is a supermarket. Not a pet shop,โ he says defensively.
โWell, apparently my dog does.โ You crouch briefly to inspect a lower shelf. โPrincess has gotten really picky lately. Too much variety ruined her forever.โ
โYeah?โ He folds his arms and smirks. โThey used to hunt, can you imagine?โ
โThe most she hunts is my slipper after I accidentally drop it.โ
Ashveil suppresses a laugh.
If only you knew. Princess can become vicious whenever she wants to. The first few days he started visiting your house, she nearly tore into his ankles on sight. Funnily, a stranger breaking into her home is not what offended her the most. That ranked secondary compared to the fact that the treats he brought were chicken-flavored instead of beef. She had made enough outraged noise to nearly expose him entirely before finally driving him back out through the window and land inside a dumpster. H u m i l i a t i n g.
As youโre finally about to pick something, Ashveil instinctively stops you, his cane pointing.
โYour dog doesn't like that one.โ The words slip out far too naturally. Too easily, sure, born from the need to be right; you tend to lower his defenses with how wonderful you are to him, leading to him saying compromising things like that.
Your hand pauses midair. His confident statement picks up your attention. Not would probably dislike. Not even might prefer something else. A definitive certainty.
โHow do you know that? You haven't met my dog yet.โ Your expression sharpens with mild offense rather than suspicion, thankfully. To you, it merely sounds like someone rudely claiming superior knowledge over your own dog instead of accidentally exposing himself as a home-invading creep.
His heart stills right there by this damn pet food aisle. Think fast, think fast, think fast, you old manโ
โNo, howeverโโ He clears his throat. โYou told me her breed before, remember? And Iโve worked around all kinds of dogs over the years, well, unfortunately at the cost of a big allergic reaction. You start collecting their characteristics.โ His hand waves vaguely towards the shelf. โThat oneโs too light. She probably needs something richer. More iron.โ He nods sagely, then adds to his wisdom, โThat breedโs basically halfway to becoming a shark. Bloodthirsty creatures.โ
Heโs lying because heโs not even that good at deducing. Storing information about you comes easily for him, but heโs mostly operating based on intuition and luck.
โYou think so?โ You give him the benefit of doubt because your furball does deserve the best.
โYes!โ He clasps his hands together. โCanโt go wrong with beef.โ
He knows this especially because he once at the same dog treats himself, being broke enough to consider it economically reasonable. The nutritional contents are close enough to actual jerky, enough for one to decide that what society thinks doesnโt matter.
โHmโฆ itโs justโฆ I don't want her eating too much fat.โ
Right. He almost forgot until this morning where he saw Princess. Continuously bribing your dog into silence with treats may eventually become a genuine health concern. And Ashveil loves dogs enough to acknowledge this prospect. Still, switching her away from her from her current favorite will absolutely trigger aggression, so he needs to help transition her carefullyโif he wants to preserve diplomatic relations within the household.
โJust don't overfeed her and it should be fine.โ
He also ought to avoid Princess for as long as possible. Which is becoming more and more difficult as you (un)fortunately walk her a lot. He canโt always text you and ask you if youโre with your dogโeven with that allergy thing as his bargaining chipโif sometimes he appears spontaneously. If Princess were to openly recognize him in front of youโฆ
The two of you continue wandering through the store afterward, slowly filling the cart with a mix of necessities and smaller indulgences. The cityโs supermarkets always feel overstimulating, packed with fluorescent lighting, brightly colored displays, robotic promotional mascots chirping abut discounts, and giant hanging screens advertising products loud enough to follow customers across entire warehouse. Ashveil is more accustomed to the darkness of his refrigerator, but with you around, those elements become somewhat bearable.
He naturally takes notes of what you get.
At some point, you toss something sweet into the basket beside him. Ashveil glances downward.
โYou remembered.โ
โWell, you liked it last time.โ
Something embarrassing tickles his cheeks. You cared enough to remember what snack he likes and to get it for him. Spending money on him, when he should be spending it on you.
As you two continue forward, his own brain remains busy memorizing absurdly tiny details about you: how you absentmindedly compare expiration dates twice before buying something, the way you tap the cart to the rhythm of the music playing in the background, how you narrow your eyes whenever calculating prices in your head. Domesticity looks good on you and heโs happy to be part of it.
By the time the shopping bags are finally filled, the crowds outside the supermarket have thickened.
โThank you for joining me today, Ashveil,โ you say while adjusting the bags against your armโnot letting him hold them. โI should probably head back before the city gets even too crowded.โ
โFair enough.โ He still reaches towards the heavier bag. โLet me walk you home.โ
โNo, thereโs really no need.โ
He looks at you with confusion.
โYou already did plenty for me today,โ you add with a small smile.
โItโs not a problem,โ he insists, holding onto the side of the bag. โSeriously, the streets get worse around this hour, andโโ
โAshveil. Please.โ For the first time, your tone turns firmer. Resolute, oh the horrors.
It does make him burn, nearly sending shock into his body, and heโs about to overthink again.
His stomach drops stones. He must have been a bother to you, all clingy like velcro no matter how politely he disguises it as concern. Maybe you finally noticed how excessive he has become. Or worseโmaybe you noticed something deeper beneath it all, and the situation is far more catastrophic than he initially thought. Or maybe you are replacing himโ
โI donโt mean to be overbearing,โ he says carefully, suddenly hyperaware of every word leaving his mouth. โIโm just worried about your safety. You know what Planarcadiaโs like lately. All these gangsโฆโ Even if he befriended some of them. โWeird peopleโฆโ
โI know.โ Your features soften lightly, though they maintain its seriousness. โBut having someone worry over me every second isnโt exactly good for me either. I do try to be careful, soโฆโ
You finally have made a boundary. You are reasonable, yet it still feels like you kicking him in his ribs.
โI see,โ he says after a moment, forcing himself to let go of your purchases. โThat makes sense.โ It does, which is the worst part. โBut call me if anything happens,โ he adds, unable to fully stop himself.
โI will.โ
You smile again afterward, gentler this time, seemingly relieved he accepted the request without argument. Then you leave.
Ashveil watches you gradually disappear into the moving crowd, your sunny figure swallowed little by little, and he thinks the lights above donโt hold candle to you. The city suddenly feels even louder even for its norm, unbearably so.
He stands there for another moment before finally turning away himself with a heavy sigh, shoulders lower than before. His invisible tail is curled, more of a dog, not wolf. He already knows, with miserable certainty, that he is going to spend the next several hours replaying this interaction over and over until he successfully convinces himself that you must secretly hate him now. A grown man, now unwilling to eat the food you bought him, just so he can cling to a piece of you for a bit longer.
No. Forget it. He canโt leave it like that. What if thereโs someone waiting for you? He didnโt see you contacting anyone when strolling with him but he needs to make sure youโre not cheating on him. Not that itโs cheating, but you get the gist, right?
Yet as it turns out, you really reach home on your own. He trails you right under you reach your door. Well, at least he knows youโre safe.
Ashveil doesn't remember the last time heโs been this scared.
Your call reaches him in the middle of the night, cutting through the rattling hum of the refrigerator compressor. His phone vibrates violently against the metal lining and skids away from him, and in his panic co catch it, he nearly smashes his forehead against the surface. It doesn't help heโs been talking in his sleep again, barely getting any sleep immersion that he thought he was about to experience sleep paralysis too.
For one terrible second, he thinks something has happened to you. That maybe it isn't a dream.
But, honestly, once he manages to answer and hears your voice properly, half of him is simply relieved. You sound panicked, yes, words tumbling over each other in disarray, but you called him. After your boundary-giving and his walk home with his tail between his legs, you still reached for him first.
That alone nearly distracts him before his finally brain finally catches up to what you are actually saying. A receipt. Something wrong inside the house. Suddenly, he is wide awake.
โHold onโโ He pushes the fridge open and sits upright like a corpse rising to life. โโyouโre saying you think someone broke into your house?โ
โBut I canโt tell!โ you blurt out shakily. โI found this receipt right as I was getting ready to sleep, and things feel weird, and I checked the cameras but thereโs nothing there, nothing seems missing, and maybe Iโm overreacting butโโ
Ashveilโs stomach drops. Did you finally notice something? Did he accidentally scatter evidence?
No. Impossible. He always checks carefully. He takes pictures beforehand, recreates every angle afterward, makes sure everything remains exactly as it was before he arrived. Itโs the least he can do. He is meticulous about these thingsโฆ Usually.
โHey. Hey, calm down.โ He rubs down his face, forcing his voice to be calmer despite the sudden adrenaline flooding him.โ Donโt wind yourself up. Iโll come over and take a look first, okay? Don't call the police yet.โ
โWhy not? It's their job!โ you ask with confusion.
โWellโฆโ He stands quickly, tugging on his pants with the free hand. โUnless thereโs direct proof of forced entry, they might turn you away. Let me check things out first before you stress yourself too hard.โ
There is a brief pause, filled with your frantic breathing.
โO-okay. Come quick, please.โ
The call ends.
Ashveil stares at the dark screen for one second before bolting like a complete lunatic. Mister N looks up in alarm as he watches his boss rush through the office half-dressed and visibly panicked.
โAshveil, what on earth are you doing?โ
โNo time for explanation!โ he blurts out while shoving his boots on and grabbing his cane. โEmergency!โ
By the time he reaches your street, his thoughts have already escalated into increasingly catastrophic scenarios. You found other traces as well. You are suspecting him and this is a trap with police awaiting him at your house. Or worse, someone else truly did break in.
You open the door almost the instant he rings the bell.
And don't you look miserable. Your eyes are red and glossy with tears, shoulders tense beneath your sleep clothes, fingers clutching the edge of the door. You look at him as if he might as well be your last hope.
His eyes soften. โHey,โ he says quietly, stepping closer. โPretty lady, rest assured, everything will be alright. Breathe for me,โ he says gently, fixing a loose lock of your hair from your face. โYouโre shaking.โ Sight of you like this is the most difficult one to take. And itโs probably his fault.
โIโm sorry,โ you whisper shakily. โItโs probably something stupid and Iโm making a big deal out of nothingโโ
โNo.โ His voice firms from the seriousness. โYouโre right to be cautious. Especially these days.โ His hands settle carefully on your shoulders. โHow about you make yourself some tea while I look around, hm?โ
You hesitate but you end up nodding. โOkay. Iโll make you one too,โ you say nicely and his heart skips a beat even now.
He smiles encouragingly, stepping inside and hanging his coat.
Before retreating toward the kitchen, you suddenly turn back and hand him the receipt you kept in your robeโs pocket.
โIโve never been to this konbini before,โ you explain anxiously. โOr at least not recently. Sometimes I stop at random stores during walks with Princess, butโฆโ
โI see.โ
Ashveil scans it quickly.
The receipt goes:
a loaf of bread
instant coffee
instant noodles
10 x bunches of bananas
.
.
.
Fuck.
All thoughts leave his body for a moment and itโs all tension taking over his body. It is his receipt.
The bananas are for the monkeys at the agency, since they enthusiastically accept payment in fruit and occasionally riot when undercompensated. It must have slipped from his pocked earlier while he was distracted grinding himself into your mattress like a pathetic animal in heat. Which should have not happened, since he does document everything before moving around your house specifically to avoid mistakes like this.
Yet lately, around you, he has been getting sloppy. Well, more than usual.
With you in the kitchen, he at least has been granted several minutes to unravel this blunder in peace. And what an absolute sad sack he was; he survived deadly fights only to be taken down by a grocery receipt?
By the time you return with tea and invite him over to your cozy sofa laid out with blanket, he has mostly reconstructed his composure.
โIโve got good news,โ he announces, leaning backโand trying not to get distracted by your scent and warmth radiating off of you. Not itโs not the time! Even if you look especially adorable with some sleepy weariness attached to you. โThereโs no sign of forced entry anywhere. Locks are intact. Windows too.โ
โBut how did it get inside?โ you ask immediately, looking at him intensely. โI keep my windows closed.โ
Ashveil hums thoughtfully, trying to appear more visceral than practiced. โWellโฆโ He staples his fingers between his spread thighs. โThink about it this way. If someone was skilled enough to enter your home unnoticed, avoid the cameras, leave no signs of entryโฆโ He points with his head at the receipt on the coffee table. โWould they really leave behind something this obvious?โ Okay, maybe he would. โYou probably carried it inside accidentally without noticing.โ
Your tight expression slowly relaxes. โYes,โ you admit with relief, โthat actually makes sense.โ
โExactly.โ
You exhale deeply, tension leaving your shoulders. โThough, that person must really like bananas.โ
Ashveil laughs despite himself. Itโs a good thing you donโt know about his little monkey companion. And, heโs quite happy that the crisis is over.
But right as he thinks he should go, you suddenly wrap your arms around him. He freezes. Your face presses into his chest while your fingers curl weakly into the fabric of his shirt, seeking comfort. Seriously, whatโs going on with you lately? Youโre getting bold.
โThank you,โ you say softly. โI owe you big time.โ
โWhat for?โ he asks quietly, voice strained.
โFor coming here.โ You tighten your hold slightly, your own heart racing. โYou've beenโฆ doing so much for me lately. Honestly more than anyone else has.โ Your laugh comes out small and tired. โLiving on this planet is such a hassle sometimes.โ
Oh, you poor thing. It should be him apologizing to you. You are there thanking him for protecting you from fears he himself created. The guilt born behind the thought nearly has him speaking in protest, yetโฆ he still craves your affection. He wouldnโt be able to shoot down your call for a bit of TLC either.
He says nothing. His arms embrace you, as his chin goes to rest atop your head. Itโs an amazing feeling, holding you. Right somehow. A selfish, surely monstrous for these reasons part of him almost wishes you would cry again solely so he could continue comforting you like this a little longer.
Your hearts sync together and he swears heโs never felt more alive.
Eventually, you tilt your head upward, revealing yourself to him in your vulnerability. Youโre softer than ever, even needy with your eyes pleading, enough to suddenly lean closer.
Ashveil genuinely cannot process what is happening. Surely you are not in love with him already. More likely, your emotions are scrambled from fear and relief and exhaustion, with your brain desperately searching for comfort after making yourself half-sick. Living alone as a woman must get scary for you sometimes.
And maybe your offering merely is done to feel safe, grounded and soothed by someone else, but Ashveil doesnโt care about the reasoning when your lips brush his. When it happens, the universe seems to narrow down to contain only the two of you.
Heโs still frozen, as no single nagging or feeling thought has ever predicted you kissing him willingly. A distant worshiper fitted his calculations better.
You mistake that hesitation for rejection and begin pulling away almost immediately, embarrassment flicking across your hot face.
He quickly realizes what heโs accidentally taking for granted, and the thought of letting this go is maddening. So his hand catches your waist and pulls you flush against him.
The second kiss is nothing like the first. Full of desperation and hunger, he kisses you like a listless man discovering something worth going after centuries, mouth moving against yours with enough intensity to leave him dizzy. One of his hands presses firmly against your back while the other oneโalways the left handโrests at your jaw lightly, as though he still cannot believe this is real.
You take it one step further in response, as your fingers slip into his long hair and tug that he sighs blissfully before you straddle him. You deepen the kiss with an urgency on your own.
All of this has him realizing what a fool he was. You must have wanted him all along, at least somewhatโor needed even. But whatever it is, it makes no difference at the moment. Your weight on his is real and tangible.
Take all you want from him. Feed from him. Make this broken-legged wolf worth something.
Itโs easy for his hands to start roaming over your body the moment you kiss him again, restless palms mapping across you as though heโs trying to commit terrain to his memory before it vanishes before his palms. Your robe vanishes first, peeled away from your shoulders and discarded carelessly onto the other side of the furniture.
He knows he was never supposed to end up here. Not like this, through your main entrance. Not in your arms instead of the imagination of the scene, not with with your sun surrounding him from every direction, not breathing against your lips while your hands anchor so trustingly around his shoulders. From the very beginning, he was meant to remain distant.
The moment you helped him pay for that meal in Dovebrook and somehow altered the chemistry of his brain, he should have simply appreciated you from afar and keep moving like every other lonely idiot in the galaxy. Instead, he kept chasing you. First by curiosity, then by intention, then by outright compulsion until it finally wasnโt enough and he decided to make his official appearance, playing your friend by using all that he has learned about you. That shtick with you helping a broke man pay for his food was a perfect icebreaker to start seeing each other, so was you being so friendly from the beginning. Naive too perhaps, believing in his good intentions to express gratitude.
And the story behind tonight is ridiculous too. His own stupidity caused the panic that led you into his arms in the first place, somehow winding up in his favor and he now gets to touch you openly.
He cannot tell whether you have actually started developing feelings for him or whether you simply want somebody to fuck after a stressful night, but it hardly matters anymoreโeither possibility leaves him incredibly flattered, and both are still better than being shut out entirely.
Prurient thoughts about you have been rotting his brain for way too long anyway.
โNice place, by the way,โ he murmurs between kisses, mouth brushing yours as his hands beneath your shirt.
โJust the place?โ you tease softly before nipping at his lower lip.
โWell, the owner is just as nice, if not betterโฆโ he answers against your mouth, the words dissolving into another kiss right as his fingers begin pushing your pajama shirt higherโ
A sharp bark cuts through the room. Both of you jolt before separating.
โPrincess!โ you exclaim at the exact same moment he does, turning toward the hallway opening where your dog stands glaring sleepily in his direction.
Shit. He absolutely forgot about her so did you in the heat of the moment.
That bark is absolutely aimed at him, though thankfully not in the way it could have been. More annoyed than alarmed, really. He suspects Princess came looking for snacks and found herself offended by the fact he arrived empty-handed tonight.
As you try to shoo her away, Princess plants herself stubbornly in place and barks at him again.
โUgh, she doesnโt like strangersโฆโ you sigh apologetically.
Yes, strangers. Itโs good thatโs what you think.
โNo worries.โ Ashveil crouches in front of the couch despite the cold sweat trying to break across his spine. โI like all dogs, and they like me.โ
โThatโs not how this worksโโ
He extends his hand anyway before you can finish objecting. Princess sniffs him for approximately two seconds before visibly recognizing his scent and immediately losing interest, turning away with the dramatic disappointment of someone realizing there are really no treats involved in this interaction. Pretty rude after everything, he thinks.
Ashveil gives her a few quick pets for appearances before she finally trudges off again.
Her indifference doesnโt surprise him, though it does surprise you.
โHuh. Seems that she likes you enough.โ If liking someone was tolerating their presence enough to let them stay.
You do not question it further, thankfully. People love convincing themselves animals instinctively recognize good souls or hidden kindness, and Ashveil is not above benefiting from that kind of superstition.
He just smiles smugly and stands up. โTold ya.โ
You laugh softly, amused by this ridiculous interruption in making out. โSorry about her. Nowโฆ where were we?โ
Before he can answer properly, you surge toward him to kiss him again and wrap your arms around his shoulders, nearly knocking him backward with the force of it. He moves instinctively; his hands catch your thighs and hoist you up with a surprising ease right before he pins you against the nearest wall.
โDetective,โ you breathe out, sounding genuinely surprised once his palms settle against your ass, rough in their grip. โI didnโt know you had that in you.โ You measure him.
โItโd be a little bit boring if I had shown you everything about myself right away, no?โ he teases lowly. You really don't know the half of it, let alone what lies inside his arm.
As you laugh again, so prettily at that, he kisses you properly. Mouth full of unbearable hunger, voracious for you. Itโs beyond his wildest dreams, the fact that he can be here with you, touching you, that he resents the thought of wasting just a second.
His hat gets in the way, so he tears it off and throws it somewhere behind him without looking.
Them your hips grind experimentally against the growing hardness trapped beneath his pants, and the sensation nearly knocks the breath from his lungs altogether. This is much better than it was in his head, he can feel his underwear sticking up already.
Ashveil hisses into your mouth, his grip on you momentarily faltering before it becomes even tighter.
โYou're viciousโฆโ he mutters hoarsely, fanning your face from how close it is. You look just as incredible from this close, looking at him with so much desire heavily hanging your eyelids downโsucceeding at reigniting his lust after many years as well.
โI thought you could take that?โ
โJust you wait,โ he says roughly.
He carries you toward the bedroom with no delay, kicking the door shut behind him the second he steps inside. The sight of your bed nearly short-circuits his brain for entirely separate reason, a morning memory colliding with present reality, but the victory of his dreams coming true brings him back onto earth.
Upon being thrown at your bed, you can take in only one breath before heโs all over you again, nudging your legs open with his knee so he can take the space between your thighs. Thereโs little barrier of your pajama, yet his hands first dip beneath your shirt, palms flat against your skin before reaching your breasts he kneads to your pleasure.
โYou just know how to stir chaosโฆโ he murmurs against your jaw before dragging slow kissed down the side of your neck, each lingering long enough to leave warmth blooming. He could easily snap his fangs here and see you writhe, so he holds your life without you knowing.
You shiver beneath him yet still manage to tease ever so sweetly, chuckling softly, โMe? And what did I do, pray tell?โ
What didnโt you do?
โYou know exactly what youโre doing,โ he growls softly against your skin. โAnd looking at me like that doesnโt help me at all.โ
But whatever clever reply you had in store dies beneath another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue pushing into your mouth the instant your lips part for him. He sighs at your taste.
Clothes begin disappearing quickly afterward, your hands tugging frantically at his ridiculous layers while he strips himself and his dignity down with little patience. Something tears through the process, seams ripping loudly, but he barely notices or cares.
By the time he reaches your clothes, you aid him by kicking off your own pants, down to your panties he then removes for you. He allows himself to take one look at you, burning the image of your nude formโperfection, in his mindโonto his memory forever. You stare back at him, your chest heaving as you squirm like a bunny in anticipation, overheated from his intrusive gaze.
His mouth travels everywhere once he finally gets obstructed access to your skin, kissing and biting and suckling at the softest parts of you with barely restrained greed. He stays especially at your throat, not only because he enjoys the sounds he can pull from you there, but because your pulse beats beneath his mouth so vividly alive that it almost hypnotizes him. Warm blood rushing beneath delicate skin as he licks a stripe downward with flat tongue, life spilling through your veins with abundance, trusting him enough despite his existence that has included centuries spent around death and hunger.
You tilt your head back further for him without hesitation, your chest rising in irregular intervals. He holds you down by your hips whenever you whimper louder or grind against him again and make him moan too.
Ashveil groans softly against your neck before dragging his tongue over the marks already rising there, his hand sliding lower at last until his fingers slip between your thighs. The wetness waiting there draws a shaky breath from him, something feral in him satisfied once he realizes just how affected you already are.
He wishes he could bury himself between your thighs properly and spend hours there pleasuring you, learning every reaction your body can offer. Worshiping you. Unfortunately, his patience stopped existing the very moment you kissed himโso fingers it is, in hope itโll ease at least some of the upcoming discomfort for you.
One long finger of his left hand slides inside your pussy first, then another soon after, and he watches your expression shift beautifully as he stretches you open. You moan for him, and only him.
โLook at thisโฆโ he mutters, dazed by the sight of you. โYouโre soaking already. Pretty thingโs been thinking about this, huh?โ
His thumb presses lazily against your clit while he keeps thrusting his fingers into you at a rhythm that grows rougher whenever you make especially sweet noises for him, occasionally stretching your hole up as he opens his digits too. With how tight you are, he cannot imagine his survival once he fills you.
โAshveilโฆโ You saying his name like this can probably earn you anything, even if itโs not his real name.
Hearing that, his mouth goes back to occupying itself at your chest before finally closing around one nipple with a low groan that vibrates through you. He makes them protrude as he switches between both sides, adding to the whirpool in your abdomen. Meanwhile, he grinds himself against the mattress, trying to relieve some of the painful pressure building beneath his boxers.
You dig your nails into his back, keeping him close while your other hand slips into his dark hair, at the nape of his neck.
โAshveilโฆ just fuck me alreadyโฆโ you whine, your voice trembling enough for tears to begin gathering at your lashes.
โWhatโs gotten you in such a hurry?โ he murmurs now back against your mouth he must keep kissing, still teasing despite the fact heโs hardly an better. โYouโre usually more patient that this.โ Like has any right to talk. Heโs been one second away from pouncing on you the moment you kissed him.
โDonโt tease,โ you complain. โItโs been a whileโฆโ
He knows that well.
โAh, so youโre just using me to get off?โ he taunts lightly as he deliberately sinks his fingers deeper and watches your mouth open. Some insecure corner of him still threatens to take the possibility seriously instead of as rightful.
โNoโฆโ You pull him closer again, frustrated already. โStop being such a detective. I need you. I want you.โ
Heโs even more dizzy after you say that.
Ashveil exhales shakily before finally pulling his fingers from inside you and licking them clean with a low groan. The sight alone makes butterflies rush through your stomach, something about the contrast between his usual shabby demeanor and the hunger in him now going straight to your head.
โYeah,โ he says hoarsely. โIโll give you what you want. You shouldnโt even have to beg me for itโฆโ
He lets you help him tug his boxers down, and he nearly finishes from the expression crossing your face once you finally see him fully, resting against his abdomen. Your hand wraps around his cock experimentally, pumping him a few slow times while smearing the leaking pre-cum across the tip with your thumb.
His head tips back immediately. It feels too good, enough that he momentarily fears heโll really come before even getting inside you.
So he grabs your hips instead, grounding himself by dragging his cock through your folds first, coating himself in your slick with rough little thrusts that make your breath hitch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist while your fingers clutch tightly at the sheets beneath you. Then he spits directly onto your cunt. You tremble, arching your back.
Once he finally pushes inside, breathing becomes difficult for different reasons.
Heโs big. Bigger than you expected, and with how ridiculous Ashveil can sometimes be, itโs strangely easy to forget how imposing he actually is physically until moments like this. The stretch burns at first, enough to force a gasp from your throat, but the discomfort quickly melts into warmth and fullness that leaves your legs shaking around him.
One steady thrust and heโs inside your pussy completely, his balls resting at the curve of your ass.
โA-Ash-sh-veilโโ your voice breaks as he starts moving immediately after, pace rough from the beginning as though control abandoned him entirely the second he felt your hot walls envelop him like a perfect, sunny day. Each thrust drags your body with it slightly, his hands bruising you, as the mattress creaks beneath the force of it while his breathing grows harsher against your mouth.
His eagle look only leaves you more flushed.
You notice his prosthetic arm gradually warming against your skin, heat pulsing strangely through the surface and dark seams alike, but whatever curiosity you once had about it you restrained from the fear of disrespecting him dissolves quickly once he hits another spot inside you that leaves your brain mushy. Itโs your first time together, yet he already knows your body this wellโฆ
You're face to face while losing yourselves like this, both forced to watch each other abandon any pretense of friendliness in real time. Ashveil makes no effort whatsoever to suppress his own sounds either, low and ecstatic moans spilling from freely from him every time you tighten around his cock. He kisses your mouth before leaving more bites across that have your back arching, rinse and repeat.
Soon your legs are pushed nearly against your chest and the angle changes enough to make you cry out properly. He reaches impossibly deep like this, while your legs wriggle in the air uselessly as he keeps forcing your walls to adjust to his size.
โPleaseโฆ itโs too muchโฆโ You whine out as you throw your head back against the pillow.
And yet, Ashveil still seems unsatisfied. Every thrust seems to leave him wanting more than the last time, his expressing growing more and more wrecked each time you moan for him, as if no amount of closeness could ever fully scratch that terrible hunger rooted inside him. Deeper, harder, fasterโ
โFuckโฆโ he groans loudly, adding to the ongoing noise reverberating against your bedroom walls. โYouโre so good to me, babyโฆ Just keep taking it like thatโฆโ He leans in closer to your face and his forehead presses briefly against your before he snaps his hips against your ass harder again. โGonna make you come so hard.โ
The praise only makes you clench tighter around him, and you mewl. Ashveil swears under his breath and grabs the headboard before he loses control completely, letting one of your legs slip down. Unfortunately for you, it only gives him more force behind each trust.
โS-slow downโฆโ you gasp. โYou're gonna break my bedโฆโ you say, but itโs all a ghost of rationality speaking for you as you pull him closer by his shoulders.
โYou need it. I know you do,โ he growls.
He keeps fucking you like this, your nails dragging down his back hard enough to leave marks while he shudders beneath the sting of it. He likes the pain; likes the proof youโre overwhelmed enough to claw at him.
He lets your other leg go, so he can let thick globe of saliva suddenly spill from his mouth onto your cunt before he rolls it across your clit with slow but heavy circles of his thumb, watching your eyes roll back the same way.
โW-waitโฆโ you say eventually.
โJust a bit more, pretty girlโโ
โNo, Ashveilโฆโ you whimper.
He slows down rough to look at you properly, even if it comes with difficulty. โWhat is it?โ
โM-more lube,โ you admit breathlessly. โIโm getting soreโฆโ
Maybe itโs not the sexiest interruption, but some concern flickers across his expressionโฆ even if frustration triumphs over the feeling.
โDonโt worry,โ he says quickly, โIโve got it.โ
Still half inside you, Ashveil reaches automatically toward the nightstand beside the bed, already opening one drawer before clicking his tongue in annoyance.
โDammit, you moved it to the other drawer.โ These words slip out without him thinking.
The room goes still.
Ashveil freezes when he notices you tense up.
โWhy you looking at me like that?โ he asks carefully.
โHow did you know it was moved?โ
โWhat?โ
โYou said I moved it.โ
He stares at you, in a way that makes your stomach tighten unpleasantly. It makes him look much more different, like he dares you to oppose him further.
โWeโre seriously discussing lube logistics in the middle of sex?โ he asks with irritation, already opening the second drawer instead. โRelax. Nightstands are the most obvious place imaginable to keep it.โ
โYes, butโฆโ You swallow. โHow did you know I moved it?โ
โI thought you mentioned reorganizing your room before.โ
โBut I didnโtโโ
Before you can continue, he squirts lube over himself and pushes fully back inside you in one rough thrust, effectively knocking the thought from your head altogether.
โJust focus on me,โ he says more sharply now. He doubts he can stop at this point anyway.
More unease brews in your guts despite the pleasure right beneath. You try speaking again, but he thrusts deeper immediately after and your protest dissolves into a broken gasp instead. Tears spill freely down your cheeks from sheer overstimulation while your hands press weakly against his shoulders as if attempting to still keep him away.
Then he flips you onto your stomach. The sudden movement knocks the breath from you entirely, and youโre once more surprised, and maybe a bit concerned by his strength. Your face is pushed into the pillows while Ashveil lays his weight over your back as he drives back inside your hole again, his long and thick cock hitting your pussy hard. He doesnโt want you seeing how wrecked and pathetic he looks, yet he craves to be as close as possible.
He pounds into your hard enough to force little sobs from your throat and make it nearly painful, one hand gripping your hip while the other presses against the back of your neck to keep you still beneath him. You squirm like one of his preys underneath him, feeling the sharp sting of his sweaty skin clashing with yours, but he ignores the way you scratch back at him from the intensity, soiling the pillow from your tears.
โStop overthinking,โ he grows near your ear, tickling your sensitive skin with his long hair that flows to his tempo. โAnd take it properly.โ
The command sends another flush of heat through you despite everything.
Youโre trembling uncontrollably by now, pleasure building too fast for your body to keep up with. Ashveil isnโt far behind either, judging from the way his thrusts keep losing rhythm whenever you squeeze around him especially tightly. You can feel the ways heโs pulsing as he keeps you so full.
Then his hand slips beneath your stomach again to rub over your clit unceremoniously. It doesnโt take him much before your orgasm crashes through you so violently, your vision whites out for a moment. Your mouth falls open soundlessly against the pillow while drool dampens the fabric beneath your cheek even more, your body twitching helplessly underneath him as wave after wave keeps hitting.
The way you tighten around him finally send him over the edge too. A broken grunt tears from his throat as he collapses heavily against your back, his cock spilling thick warm inside your cunt in long bursts.
For a good minute, neither of you moves, catching your breaths. You shake, feeling sweat stick to you all over your body.
Then Ashveil slowly pulls out, watching his release leak down the inside of your tights.
Before you can sit up fully, however, he catches your waist.
โNo. Not yet,โ he growls.
He pushes you back down, and drops between your legs before you can properly process what heโs doing. The first drag of his tongue through the mess between your thighs makes your entire body jerk violently.
โAshveilโโ
He groans against your hole instead, licking into you eagerly while cleaning you up, as if to either remove his stain from you or keep the part of you inside his body. He cannot stand wasting even this final intimacy between you.
Itโs too much, and youโre far too sensitive post-orgasm. Yet every attempt to squirm away only results in him tugging you back harder while your cries grow increasingly pathetic against the pillows. His tongue pushes deep inside you, gathering every drop, before returning to your clit again, licking up every trace of wetness and cum alike with shameless greed until another smaller orgasm wrings through you embarrassingly fast.
By the time he finally lifts you upright between his legs afterward, your thoughts feel sluggish and disconnected. Still, little things begin surfacing unpleasantly through the haze now that the intensity has faded enough for your brain to function again.
All these months of him appearing where you are, just excused by his supposedly excellent detective skills. Knowing your dogโs tastes. That random receipt. The way he moved through your bedroom without hesitation. The way Princess calmed down too quicklyโand, now come to think of it, he didnโt have any allergic reaction either.
The drawer thing.
Ashveil occasionally said something dumb, yet everything was somehow explained, but the drawer thing now bothers you especially. You feel so stupid, believing you should have done your research about him before getting friendly better, no matter how lonely you might have been yourself.
You notice the way his hold on you firms, as if he became aware of the dilemma that rules and shifts in your body language. You're scared at the thought of what he might do should you tell him that truth.
โYou good?โ he asks quietly, holding his face in the crook of your neck.
โYeah,โ you answer automatically, though uncertainty bleeds through your voice. โI just need toโฆโ Then you try pulling away.
He lifts his head and eyes you suspiciously. โSomething wrong?โ
โNo,โ you say tiredly. โI just wanna use the bathroom.โ
Ashveil watches you carefully for a longer moment before finally loosening his hold.
You stand up impetuously despite your shaky legs and begin gathering your discarded clothes against yourself.
โI see,โ he says slowly. โIโll wait here.โ
But he does not believe you for even a second, his heart hammering in sudden distress. The moment you leave the room, he quickly dons on his clothes. Quietly moving closer to the hallway, he listens.
He can hear your voice, muffled and nervousโspeaking on the phone.
Oh no.
He moves fast, pushing through the door. By the time the call starts connecting, heโs already behind you, snatching the phone from your hands before you can even notice him.
With your hand managing to grasp at least the bottom half of the device right in time, you quickly disconnect the line.
โHey,โ he says sharply, breathing heavily and trying to retrieve the electronic, โwho are you calling? I told you the police would be useless in this situation.โ
โI-it wasnโt the police!โ you blurt out, lying. Your eyes open wider. โWaitโฆ How would you know that.โ
Shit. He just keeps implying things. โWho else would be you be calling at this hour?โ he asks, bitterness rising into his voice. โA friend? So you can tell them you regret sleeping with me already?โ He glares at you.
Yet his thoughts spiral into something much more fragile than the sense of disrespect. Real, honest fear he hadn't the occasion to experience in a while.
Please. Donโt ruin this for him.
โThatโs not itโโ
โThen what is it?โ
โI wanted toโฆโ Your voice trembles. โOrder us some food.โ
โYou said you were going to the bathroom.โ
โIt was supposed to be a surprise.โ
โThen show me the phone.โ His hand tugs on the phone you still clutch. โIf what youโre saying is true.โ
โThatโs weird,โ you say defensively, shrinking back. โYou should trust me more.โ
โAnd you should stop looking at me like Iโm about to kill you.โ
The words come out far worse than he intended, as Ashveil can see you flinch.
Silence stretches between you both and that damn phone, suffocating and ugly, until finally the pressure snaps and you canโt hold it in anymore.
โWere you the one stalking me?โ you ask with small dread. โBreaking into my house?โ
Ashveil stares; then he laughs through his nose, disbelieving, and steps closer to pull you against him before you can retreat further.
โWhat are you talking about?โ He twist off and puts your phone aside on the small table before his hands settle on your arms in attempt of comfort. โOh, I get it now. Youโre exhausted all that happened tonight, and your mind is playing tricks with you. Thatโs understandable, sweetheart, so we should just restโโ
โIt all makes sense now though!โ
โWhat.โ
โAll those weird comments you kept making!โ Your voice rises despite your worry heโll snap. Even that rough sex seems worrying in hindsight. โYou showing up everywhere I go, acting like you know things you shouldnโt! The lube thing! Someone breaking into my house and somehow knowing exactly what they were doingโโย
โIt's not what you think it is!โ he butts in, while nearly shaking you.
โThatโs what people always say when itย isย what you think it is!โ
Alright. Maybe youโre correct. Still, you are missing important nuance here!
Ashveil exhales deeply and rubs a hand over his face, more exasperated than angry. โOkay. Fine,โ he acquiesces. โMaybe some things looked strange. But have I ever hurt you?โ
The questions stops you from trying to pull away from his hands.
โSo you can believe me when I say I donโt have bad intensions.โ
Heโs not denying it. Heโs explaining it, sounding like someone already aware he has crossed too many lines to convincingly pretend innocence.
You feel bile come up to your throat, stuck in terror. Heย isย your stalker, and you just have slept with him.
All those walks together, โaccidentalโ or โdeducedโ meetings, all those services right in timeโ You canโt believe how blind youโve been, but you donโt even want to imagine how many times he may have followed you, watched you, entered your home. You have a worse issue on your plate, your safety compromised.
You finally go for the door.
The second you bold away from him, ripping yourself from his grasp, Ashveilโs expression changes into something vicious.
โCome back here!โ
You sprint through the apartment, heart pumping so hard it makes you taste blood. Unlike him, you know this layoutโno, scratch that. He knows it too, much to your fear, and heโs fast.
You barely reach the hallway before strong arms hook around your waist from behind and lift you off the floor. You scream immediately as you kick and thrash against him.
โLet me go!โ you scream. โHelp meโโ
He curses under his breath and quickly sets you down again to clamp a hand over your mouth so the neighbors cannot hear you.
โHey, stop screaming!โ he hisses desperately into your ear. โIโm not going to hurt you. You just need to listen to me for five minutes.โ
You fight him anyway, digging your heels against the floor while he attempts to drag you backward, trying not to actually manhandle you harder than necessary.
Then unexpectedly, Princess arrives.
The barking explodes through the house once she sees you in your distress, loud and and furious enough to make Ashveil panic too.
โPrincess!โ you cry weakly against his palm, the sound muffled.
The dog only gets louder, teeth bared now.
Honestly, the betrayal stings Ashveil a little. After everything, all those treats and secret visits over beef jerky, he really thought they had achieved some sort of understanding. He could be her second owner. Even her dog father, in a horribly domestic fantasy he occasionally indulges in when particularly lonely.ย
Turns out Princess is more like a queen of this kingdom, and sheโs still loyal to you, choosing you over treats alike.
Sheโs a good girl which he should praise her for, but her timing is still extremely inconvenient.
โPrincess,โ Ashveil warns, โquiet!โ
She barks even harder, not liking his tone at all. His pulse spikes at the thought of your neighbors hearing her and finding it alarming.
Ashveil hates himself for what he says next. โTell her to stop,โ he says coldly from behind you, โor I'll make her stop.โ
It sounds a threat enough to you, as your sobs burst violently against his palm. Itโs unbelievable heโs been such a bastard all along, now betraying you in the worst way imaginable for a pet owner.
He doesn't want to hurt the dog and heโd probably cry afterward if he actually had to, but the fear has already pushed him to resort to more extreme measures.
โIf I move my hand,โ he says more gently now, โwill you calm her down without screaming again?โ
You nod, terrified for Princessโs safety. So slowly, he lets go of your mouth.
โP-Princess.โ Your voice shakes terribly. โGo. We're just playing.โ
The whine you hear in response tugs at your heart.
โPlease,โ you beg her.
Princess hesitates for another second before reluctantly retreating down the hallway, her tail low.
Ashveil exhales in relief.
โSee?โ he says quietly, not sure if heโs reassuring you or himself. โNobodyโs getting hurt.โ
You donโt answer, still scared, so he continues, โListen.โ He slightly eases his grip on you, though not enough to let you break free easily. โHereโs what's going to happen.โ
But your terrified brain only hears: โhereโs whatโs going happenย to you.โ Especially if Ashveil he no longer looks like your strange detective anymore. Heโs bigger, stronger, and definitely capable of vile acts. In a way no amount of self-deprecating humor of a pathetic dog at your doorstep can soften now; a broken-legged wolf finally cornered yet still having it in him.
Ashveilโs own thoughts are spiraling just as badly. He doesn't know what Mister N would do if he suddenly dragged home a terrified woman in the middle of the night. And if you disappear entirely, thereโs every chance somebody connects him to you eventually, and he refuses to ask Pearl for help in something so revolting. You pass through with him by your side often, enough for some of the public to recognize you two.
He doesn't want your relationship destroyed completely either. Even with your trembling in fear in his arms, the desperate parts of him still want to salvage it.
โYou and I are going to talk,โ he says after brief pondering, trying to even out his breathing. He has to stay strong for the both of you. โYouโre going to listen to me properly and realize I mean no harm.โ
Right as he lets you go, his hand finds yours before leading you back towards the bedroom that now feels claustrophobic. Your obedience as you follow him is no more than anxiety towards repercussions.
This time, he sits down on your against the headboard with you trapped on his lap, arms wrapped around your waist while you remain stiff like a prey in freeze mode. The moment he presses his face into your shoulder, all of that aggression turns into something weary.ย
Yet the fear heโs going to hurt you cannot leave, no matter how much he exposes his belly.
โIt was one time,โ he murmurs weakly. โJust this once.โ
โI don't believe you.โ You squirm on his lap, bracing your hands against his shoulders, but he only tugs you closer.
โSomeone experienced at breaking into your house would not leave something as stupid as a grocery store receipt.โ
Well, he would, butโฆ
And to you, that sounds like a sound argument to you.ย HoweverโฆโThat doesnโt prove your innocence!โ you argue with tears of fury prickling your tears as you glare down at him. โYou could have gotten comfortable! And even if it were to be one time thing, that doesnโt make it okay anyway!โ
โI know.โ His voice cracks, quieter. โI know it doesn't. I justโฆ needed to be close to you,โ he looks you deep in the eyes as he says that, all sad-sappy. Then he hides himself in your shoulder again. โIโm sorry if it makes me look disgusting. Or frightening. Perverse. I know how it sounds.โ
Itโs a touch-and-go situation. One wrong sentence and perhaps you'll hate him completely. Or maybe youโll pity him again. Or maybe youโll find him even more disturbing, demanding that he disappears from your life entirelyโheโd break apart like tawdry pottery right after.
As the admission settles heavily over your already addled head, his body suddenly jerks. You feel warm tears hit your skin, those that he cannot stop for once.
Truly a selfish man he is.ย
At first, you almost think he's taking it deliberatelyโand some part of him is, leeching off your empathy. Ashveil is not stupid; he knows exactly how soft-hearted you are, and how difficult it is for you to stay angry at someone visibly suffering.
However, the tears themselves are real, falling shamefully no matter how tightly he clenches his jaw.
โI have no one left,โ he says shakily, crumbling at your expense. โDo you understand that? I scrape together enough money to keep the lights on, I sleep in a damn refrigerator to ease my arm pain, people either hate me or want something from me, and thenโฆโ His grip around you tightens so much you almost suffocate. But he needs to hold onto you. โThen you happened.โ
Your chest tightens painfully and it's not his because of his iron hold. All these weeks of him following you, hesitant at first, doing acts of service for youโwordlessly demanding to be useful. Lighting up at a simple nice sentence or trying to impress you dumb ways.
You thought he's just a people pleaser, someone who in the end wants to help everyone. Yes, he seemed a bit lonely, but you didn't anticipate this extent of grief.
โBut whyโฆโ Your own eyes water even more from the pressure of his woes. โWhy wouldn't you just ask to spend time with me normally? We already saw each other all the timeโฆโ
โItโsโฆ different.โ
โDifferent how. Are you being stupidly prideful or something?โ
Ashveil goes quiet for a longer moment again. The real answer sounds pathetic. Saying โI wanted to be near you even when you werenโt choosing me, as humanly possibleโ is not something most people would admit aloud.
โNo. Iโฆโ he weighs his words carefully, โI didnโt want to suffocate you. I know what Iโm like, once I care about someone, Iโฆโ He laughs weakly through the tears. โI get attached, deeply. So I thought if I stayed nearby quietly, it wouldn't burden you.โ
โAnd that warrants breaking in?โ You look at the top of his head, your lip trembling at the thought.
โNo,โ he admits immediately. โTo be fair, it sounds insane when said out aloud.โ Another small laughs escaped him. โCowardly.โ
โWere you stalking me too?โ you ask again.
โDefine stalking.โ
You stare at him with disbelief. โAshveil!โย
No denial makes it clear to you.
He lifts his head, speaking frantically as it occurs to him that youโre at your witsโ end, he willing to admit at least something so you could find it within your heart to forgive him. โFine!โ He wipes his eyes aggressively with the heel of his palm, the other hand still holding your waist. โI followed you a few times. But only because Planarcadiaโs dangerous and you have absolutely no survival instincts sometimes andโโ
The slap cuts him off sharply, his head turning from the impact. He looks back at you slowly, smiling wistfully. โYeah,โ he says quietly, โI deserved that.โ
Heโd take that over you leaving him. You still haven't tried to kick him outโnot that heโd let you succeed in it easilyโwhich he desperately takes as a positive sign.
โDonโt stop,โ he says with a quiver, tears still stubbornly clinging to his lashes. โKeep hitting me if you want, if it makes you feel better.โ
And so you do.
It's easy to let anger overtake you after everything. Your palms strike his shoulders, his chest, his face once more, while something twists furiously inside you, wanting him to stop looking so miserable. He should stop acting like a kicked dog after frightening you half to death.
โHow could you do something like this?!โ
โI know
โYou lied to me.โ
โI know.โ
โYouโre insane.โ
โProbably.โ
Yet Ashveil only takes it, not trying to defend himself, only making sure you don't leave his lap; as though punishment is preferable to the thought of you leaving him.
However, seeing him crying properly again, looking all the more shaken and choking on his sobs, the sight snuffs the rest of your anger out before you can continue. The lamp beside your bed shines light on how worn out to the bone he is, painting ugly caricature of the man you believed to know differently. The guilt, even if misplaced between you two, tears you apart.
โStop being so meek!โ you yell, starting to cry on your own. โI donโt know what happened to you, butโฆโ
You truly donโt know and he doubts youโd want to know. Or maybe you would, striving to understand him as part of your empathy, and youโd simply frown upon the truth. About Kronstadt, La Mancha, battles full of hunger and destruction, companions reduced to fragments of themselvesโฆ About phantom pain and endless revenge, vendetta and the hunt, centuries spent surviving when he no longer wishes to.
โHey, heyโฆโ he murmurs, trying to bite down his tears. โHey, itโs okayโฆโ Slowly, he pulls you both back down onto the mattress, holding you and your trembling body against his chest. โWe don't have to talk about all that tonight,โ he whispers softly. โYouโre exhausted.โ
You do realize you should push him away, scream again, throw him out and never let him near you afterwards.
You must be insane or gullible or stupid or anything such, for you let him stay by your side. You curl yourself closer to him, needing some reassurance. You canโt pinpoint whether you're simply overwhelmed and heโs the nearest comfort to reach, you're just lonely on your own, or if somewhere along the way, Ashveil genuinely did become important to you. The responsibility now feels forced onto you anyway.
That choice to accept his touch elates his chest for a moment, he nearly laughs from the joy. Forgetting himself about his typical concerns and the price to pay for them should they be overlooked, he tucks your head under his before starting to rub your back. Holding you like this is as wonderful as he imagined.
โCan weโฆโ he begins, a bit less torn, sniffling out the last sobs. โCan we try again? No more secrets like that this time.โ
There will be secrets, of course. Things he can never safely tell you. But smaller ones, perhapsโฆ
โIโll be good for you. To you,โ he promises like his life depends on it. โI need you.โ
โI donโt want you to be good for me!โ you cry out into his chest. โJustโฆ be.โ
The words affect him more than anything that has been done so far. Words he doesnโt deserve and that he mustnโtย endorse, words that he still chooses to selfishly cling to. If he perhaps has only a few years left, he wishes to shine bright under your light.
โThenโฆโ He swallows hard, his ears ringing from the surge of happiness that went suddenly through him; at least, the closest thing heโs felt to it in ages. A small ray of sunshine, overshadowing his guilt and dullness for a moment. โWill you let me stay near you?โ
You know you shouldnโt. Every nerve in your body screams at you that this is wrong, unhealthy being the least intimidating and meddlesome part. He violated your privacy, lied to your face, manipulated you, and frightened you so badly you though this night might become your last.
But how can you feel anything but cruel when Ashveil cups your face so carefully, lifting your gaze at his, and looks at you as if you have handed something dying an unexpected reason to keep breathing? Perhaps some weak part of you recognizes that loneliness more than you would want to admit.
Against all reason, you nod your head against his palm.
Ashveil smiles.
Unlike yours, it isnโt a pretty smile at all.
If youโre still here, thank you for reading! <3 Comments and reblogs are appreciated.
โกโธโธ Learn to Share (ft. Ashveil and Boothill)
You thought it'd be funny to make a little joke about sleeping with both Boothill and his boss, but for some reason the cowboy decides that he'd actually quite like to see that. Now you're being put to the test, trapped between a cyborg cowboy with limitless stamina and a gluttonous detective with an insatiable appetite.
โฅ๏ธ content - ashveil x fem!reader x boothill. everyone is a bisexual switch in this fic LOL. no plot whatsoever, just a whoooole bunch of smut (MDNI). teasing. vaginal sex. vaginal fingering. oral (f/m receiving). come eating. cuckolding. mild dacryphilia. masturbation. mating press. prone bone. orgasm denial. double creampie. biting. choking. aftercare. written prior to 4.1 update. AO3 link.
a/n - y'allโฆ don't look at me oh my god, this is so self-indulgent i'm a bit embarrassed to be sharing it pfftโ it's not at all related to ashfayehill (like my first post about it implied) and was purely written for x reader purposes. i fear their fic would have been way too complicated and long-winded LOL. anyway, i hope you enjoy !! i may be a pervert, but my heart is full of love and whimsy โช
โฅ๏ธ wc 9.8k
The golden sun dips below the city's skyline, stretching its amber rays gracefully between the harsh, rigid edges of the many commercial buildings that comprise Dovebrook district. The remaining arcs of light cling like honey to the pale walls of a dimly lit hotel room as you and Boothill embrace in comfortable โ almost romantic โ silence.
Boothill sat at the edge of the massive, king-sized bed that lay parallel with floor-to-ceiling windows and centered against the room's eastern wall. He held you close, arms wrapped securely around your waist and ribcage, as you straddled his sturdy, leather-clad thighs. You were hanging from his shoulders with your face hidden against his neck, breath soft and shallow. You seemed tense.
Though, truthfully, anybody in your position would have their stomach in knots. After all, you had agreed to a trial of sorts. One that involved the man you had met only a few weeks ago. and one that you never could have fathomed becoming your reality. All you did was confess to Boothill that his "boss" was quite the looker, joking that you wouldn't mind sharing a bed with two rangers if given the chance. You really didn't mean anything by it โ it was only a joke! But Boothill had other ideas and put everything into motion. Mostly as a courtesy to the lonely, old wolf, but also because he was genuinely curious where things could go from here.
Now you were sat in his lap, steeling yourself for the appointment that was rapidly approaching as Boothill mistook your silence for apprehension. Placing soft kisses into the crook of your neck and along the exposed skin of your shoulder, the cowboy does his best to calm your nerves. Completely oblivious to the possibility that his actions would only serve to set you further on the edge.
"We can call it off if you like," Boothill reassures. "You know I won't force ya to do anything you don't want to. Just say the word, sugar, and I'll send him on his way."
Only a moment passes before you raise your head, leaning back to look Boothill in the eye as you shake your head in gentle disagreement.
"I'm okay, love. It's justโฆ a little nerve-racking. I've never done anything like this before." Despite being the truth, your reply comes out sounding a little too uncertain to his ears. This sets a pout on your cowboy's face.
"Just promise me you'll holler if ya change yer mind?"
"I promise," you coo at him, sounding much more self-assured this time while giving him a sweet smile.
"Good," his warm breath fans your lips as he nuzzles his nose against yours, causing you to giggle.
Your response was one he was willing to accept, reminding himself that he could trust you to tell him the truth. Your comfort and safety are of utmost importance to him, and he refused to have it any other way. He pecks gingerly at the corner of your mouth before he pulls back to get a good look at you, practically purring at the sight that he'd already seen just moments prior. Heck, he even watched you get dressed and still behaved like he was just seeing it for the first time.
Perched on his lap and squirming under his searing gaze, you wore a thin, silken nightgown with a lacy trim. Creamy and off-white in color, it framed your figure perfectly, emphasizing the curves and slopes of your body in a way that engaged the imagination. Invigorated the appetite. He would never tire of basking in your beauty, draped in delicate fabrics.
He could only hope that tonight's new participant would also share this same appreciation.
Sudden knocking at the door breaks Boothill from his reverie and makes you jump slightly in his grasp. Your awaited guest has finally arrived.
You wait in silence, now alone on the bed as Boothill had left to draw the curtains and welcome the visitor at the door. The main room is deafeningly quiet as you listen closely to the greetings being exchanged between the two men; however, you couldn't quite make out their words. They were only moments away from entering your bed and you couldn't control the ceaseless flow of sinful images that were conjured in your mind. Your head was spinning, thighs instinctually pressing together, impatient and needy, the longer you were forced to wait.
After what felt like an entire amber era, Boothill reappears, sauntering back into view with his crosshair eyes locked onto you. Following close behind is none other than Ashveil. His approach is more timid than the cowboy's, clutching his brimmed hat to his chest as if it could calm the beating of his heart. When his silver eyes finally meet yours, his cheeks immediately bloom with a rosy, red hue โ the esteemed ashen detective can't possibly be this adorable!
"Detective," you address him smoothly, having successfully subdued the urge to pounce him right then and there. Part of you wants to see him melt into a puddle of embarrassment, and the other wants to see if there's something else hidden beyond those innocent, blushing cheeks. Something greedy, ravenous, or starved of intimacy.
When he doesn't immediately respond, you begin to suspect that the former would be the most probable outcome.
"C'mon boss! No point in getting shy now," Boothill nudges at Ashveil's arm teasingly. "It'd be awfully rude to leave this beauty hangin'."
The detective sputters briefly before collecting himself, brows furrowed and face burning as he sucks in a grounding breath.
"M-my apologies," he shifts his bashful gaze from you to Boothill, and then back to you. "I suppose I'm just a bit out of practice. You really must forgive me."
"Wellโฆwe can help you with that," Boothill smirks, flashing you a glance that tells you everything you need to know. He's given you an opening, and you're taking the bait.
The two of you close in on the detective, like wolves upon a defenseless lamb.
Boothill frees Ashveil's hands of his hat and cane, nimbly removes his outer coat, and sets them all neatly to the side. From the edge of the bed, you take Ashveil's hand and gently guide him to your side, making sure to not rush him on his bad leg. Once he's comfortably seated on the bed beside you, he allows himself to take a proper look at you. You follow his gaze as it travels lasciviously across the exposed skin of your body, at the suggestion of form beneath your loosely fitted garment.
For several seconds, he does nothing but take in the sight before him, and while that's all well and good, it isn't what you've set out to do. Emboldened by the way he's devouring you with his eyes, you take his gloved hand into yours.
"Don't worry, detective. This isn't a crime scene." Serving as his guide, you place his hand in the space just below your breasts. "You can touch me as much as you want."
A shaky breath escapes his lips as you encouragingly press his hand further up your body. It was honestly shocking how inexperienced and shy he was under your instruction. A man as beautiful as him was sure to have many admirers vying for his attention, so why are his movements so restrained and unsure?
Boothill takes his place behind you and interrupts your train of thought.
"Wouldja like a demonstration? I can show ya how she likes it," the cowboy drawls. His familiar cockiness riling you up and sending heat straight to your gut even without seeing the devilish smirk that's undoubtedly plastered to his face.
Ashveil's eyes leave your body for the first time to acknowledge Boothill's offer. "Please," is all he says. A brief nod and the withdrawal of his own hand to further indicate his answer.
Boothill chuckles at the gesture and suddenly he's leaned over your shoulder, hands reaching around you to grope your breasts. You sigh needily, but his touch is fleeting as they travel upward to grab hold of the lacy straps of your gown. With deft fingers, he drags the straps down your shoulders until they hang by your elbows, leaving the remaining fabric to just barely cling to the mound of your chest. He's deliberately moving at a snail's pace, making sure to breathe hot against your neck and ear, wanting to tease both you and his audience of one. And unfortunately for you, it's working exceptionally well.
Boothill delights in the way Ashveil looks at you. Attention unbroken, lips slightly parted, and an increasingly obvious tent in his slacks. You've definitely noticed it too. You swallow thickly at the thought of him getting aroused just from looking at you. Your folded legs begin to shift restlessly beneath you, barely able to withstand the tension that's building between the three of you โ it's almost tangible, thick and viscous as it deprives your lungs of oxygen.
After deciding you've been patient enough, the cowboy follows through with his task and pulls your gown's neckline down to pool below your now exposed breasts. He fulfills your silent pleas for contact by cupping them in his hands while his lips latch onto the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You gasp at the initial chill of his metallic fingers, but they quickly inherit your warmth as he begins kneading your tender flesh. You were soft and pliant under his hard and unyielding touch.
You can't help it when your lungs begin to falter. Boothill knew exactly where your sweet spots were, and he didn't plan on playing fair. But what made everything feel so much more intense was the all-consuming gaze of Ashveil. He hadn't even done anything to you yet, but his presence alone was enough to heighten your senses. A whine escapes your lips, and it's clear that you want more.
Boothill's lips withdraw from your shoulder to press against the shell of your ear, his hands continuing their motions: massaging, pinching, pulling.
"What's the matter, darlin'?" The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. "If ya want somethin', just say it. Otherwise, this old wolf might get stuck as an observer all night."
Understanding that Boothill is referring to him, Ashveil flushes an even deeper red. "Don't mock me," he warns, but it lacks any danger.
A rumble of laughter erupts from Boothill's chest and subsequently dampens the spot between your legs.
"I'm only pullin' yer tail. But you'd best do somethin' quick before I decide I want her all to myself." Upon delivering his advice, he licks sloppily into your ear, ripping an uncontainable moan from your throat as a means of spurring his senior into action.
And it does.
Ashveil, having finally mustered the courage, shifts his seated position until he can comfortably lean closer to you, hovering mere inches from your face.
"May I kiss you?" He asks for your permission, appearing determined and almost apologetic in his advances. The contrast between the behaviors of the two men bracketing you makes your mind fuzzy, and arouses you to no end. You can hardly form a coherent thought in your current state of impatience, so you opt to respond with your actions instead.
You quickly close the gap between your lips, crashing into him with unabated fervor. His lips are remarkably soft and plush against your own, and you can feel yourself become instantly addicted to the sensation. You're all too eager to deepen the kiss โ dying to keep your mouth and tongue occupied while Boothill continues toying with your breasts โ and Ashveil does his best to keep up with your pace. You part your lips to let him in, allowing him to lap at your open mouth as he slowly begins to realize his own growing appetite.
Your tongues mingle hastily, saliva now dripping past your lips, clinging to your chin, and the sound is downright filthy. Ashveil's hand had found its way to rest on your jaw at some point, but you've only just become aware of it because his grip has tightened. Holding you firmly in place, he nips and sucks at your lower lip, drawing out various moans and whines; some of which were his. The sound of his arousal sends blood rushing to your cheeks. It's hot and heady, and appears to have an affect on both you and Boothill.
The numerous lewd sounds have gotten to the cyborg behind you, and he becomes aware of his own waning patience. He'd simply been waiting for the cue that would allow him to take things to the next level, and when he hears Ashveil moan into your mouth, he knows it's time. He hurriedly drops his hands to where the hem of your garment sits and gathers the fabric between his fingers as he hikes it up to sit around your waist. Without preamble, his fingers dips below the waistband of your panties, desperately seeking out your dripping core.
A bolt of electricity shoots through your body when he finds it; smooth, silver fingers drag slowly between your folds, coating themselves in your slick. You gasp into Ashveil's mouth, jolting in his grasp as his junior strokes at your cunt.
The detective's eyes open to see your lashes fluttering in ecstasy. He pulls back from your parted lips to peer down between your legs, and what he finds there snaps the final thread of humility and self-restraint he'd been clinging to. He watches for a moment as Boothill's hand maneuvers steadily beneath the lacy material of your underwear; as your stomach flexes and trembles with pleasure; as your hands scramble for purchase among the sheets; as your mouth hangs open with pretty, airy whimpers spilling from your lips.
"Fuck," he utters under his breath. His eyes have darkened considerably, and his once shy demeanor is now slowly melting away.
But you don't hear nor see this. Your head is thrown back over Boothill's shoulder, eyes shut as you concentrate on the movement of his fingers. You're hungry for his attention, but he's still holding back. He does nothing but repeat the same slow and languid strokes with no intention of speeding up. He's really only aiming to cruelly string you along until you're begging for more.
Before you can even verbalize your annoyance, your eyes shoot open at the feeling of Boothill's hands leaving you only to then see your nightgown being recklessly torn from you body, followed quickly by your panties. The men seem to have reached a silent agreement when you weren't looking as they haul your body to the center of the bed, where you now lay with your back against Boothill's chest; bare and ready for Ashveil's taking.
"Since yer the guest of honor, I'll let you dig in first," Boothill says coolly. He hooks his hands under your knees and spreads you wide for his senior. Your face is burning up with embarrassment at being presented in such a compromising manner, but you don't resist it. You want this. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight of the fully dressed detective lowering himself in front of your naked body, an appreciative sigh leaving his chest.
"Aeons you're gorgeous," he breathes against your inner thigh. "And already so wet. Did you really want this that badly?" His hands steadying himself on the backs of your thighs โ careful not to poke you with the seal-binding nail that protrudes beneath his right wrist โ as he brings his face within a hair's breadth of you. You swear you're already dripping onto the sheets below when he inhales your scent deeply, his hot exhale against your most sensitive spot making you squirm in Boothill's vice-like grip.
You've been so distracted, observing him in painful expectancy, that you had completely forgotten about his question. He has to nip at your thigh with his sharp canines to bring you back to your senses, shooting you a dark and demanding look from between your legs. "Is this what you want, pretty girl?"
"Yes," you breathe, exasperated. You've got the most pitifully needy look on your face and it stirs something within Ashveil's chest. "Please, I can't wait any longer."
And with that, he eagerly obliges.
He dives in, flattening his tongue against the entirety of your cunt before licking a thick stripe up to your clit; a hungry groan vibrates against you. You cry out, finally getting closer to the feeling you've been chasing. Your hands immediately tangle in his dark hair, pulling him close enough to smother him, but he doesn't mind it. In fact, he revels in it. His mouth obediently suckling at your sensitive bundle of nerves and messily drooling all over your weeping folds. He moans when he laps at the juices that leak from your slit โ the flavor heavenly on his taste buds. He whimpers when you tug at his hair after he's buried his tongue between your walls. He's diligent in his deduction of what gets you going, cataloguing each of your reactions in the back of his mind for safe keeping.
The way he's slurping at you is pornographic. Wet pops and guttural groans fill the cool, conditioned air of the room and you swears it's begun to spin. He's eating like a man starved; gulping down your essence like you're the last oasis in an endlessly sun-scorched desert.
Boothill is straining against your lower back at his point, his silicone prosthetic testing the stretch of the black leather that confines him. He wets his parched lips when he notices you're getting close, envying Ashveil's position. Your legs are shaking in his hands, hips bucking against Ashveil's rapacious mouth on instinct. He wants to be the one to drink you down, but he can learn to share if it means he gets to watch your face twist in pleasure.
"Go on, sweet girl. Cum for us. Give the boss a good taste of ya," his voice comes out gravelly, teetering on the edge of a growl.
This rapidly ushers you to the precipice of your release when, without warning, Ashveil presses a gloved digit into you, curling to repeatedly graze your g-spot with terrifying precision. And with that, you're sent instantly spiraling. A broken moan tears from your lungs as you convulse against the solid chest and hands of the cowboy as he licks and nips at your ear, studying the shift in your expression when the rolling tides of your first orgasm wash over you.
The man between your thighs continues his steady ministrations, but begins to reluctantly ease up the pace. Only when you start to whine from the encroaching overstimulation does he withdraw his now drenched finger. He places one last open-mouthed kiss to your twitching lower lips, trailing lighter pecks along your inner thigh before gently biting you. When you whine in response, he has to grapple with himself to overcome the animalistic urge to sink his teeth even further. Unwillingly, he lets your supple flesh escape his jaws as he pulls back from you.
Breathless, you go limp against Boothill. Your eyes shut as you're left reeling from your devastating high before you're gently shifted to lay on the plush comforter of the bed. You feel the bed dip with Boothill's departure from your side, but his destination remains unclear to you.
Your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the rustling of clothes being undone; the familiar jingle of a belt buckle coming loose. Curiosity gets the best of you as your eyelids flicker open, but what you don't expect to see is the two rangers now undressing each other. Boothill greedily tongues at Ashveil's mouth, chasing the lingering flavor of you on his lips and your jaw nearly drops through the floor at the filthy scene you're witnessing. It's so unbelievably hot that your body instantly perks up again; desire burning anew.
Their lips part, a string of their saliva mixed with your slick stretching between them as Boothill pulls Ashveil's compression shirt up and over his head, revealing one of the most alluring torsos you've ever seen โ perhaps even rivaling Boothill's. His large, muscular chest tapers down to an obscenely slim waist that disappears beneath his high-waisted pants. But the thing that catches your eyes is the blackened skin of his right side. It consumes all of his right arm and shoulder, interrupted by winding streaks of silver along his forearm; it cascades down his chest and onto his stomach, vanishing into his waistband. You wonder just how far it goes. If it would feel any different against your skin.
You watch them with intense focus, heart hammering in your chest as they continue making out, hands fumbling with each other's buttons and zippers, desperate to shed the layers that separate them. Ashveil is the first to succeed in freeing Boothill; his proud, silicone cock finally springing from its restraints. You suck in a steadying breath, eyes glazing over at the sight of your lover's deliciously sleek curvature. Saliva pooling around your tongue with the eagerness to feel him filling your mouth.
Boothill tuts against Ashveil's lips when the latter tries to push his leather pants further down his steely legs, nudging his hands away while breaking their kiss for the last time. In one continuous movement, Boothill removes his own pants and tosses them across the room with no decorum, leaving his body completely bare. And instead of returning to stand in front of the detective, he drops to a kneel between his legs before turning to catch your eyes, knowing you had been watching their every move โ ever the showman.
"C'mere sweetheart, I'd like yer help with somethin'," he calls sweetly to you.
You obediently crawl to where Ashveil stands with the backs of his legs against the bed, taking a seat just off to his right while holding Boothill's gaze the whole way. He gives you a sharp-toothed grin before taking your hand in his.
"Could ya take care of this fer me?" He brings your knuckles to his lips to kiss them lovingly. It's so gutwrenchingly sweet that your heart skips a beat; pure, unabashed adoration filling your senses regardless of what he just requested of you. But he doesn't even need to ask, you'd do anything for him.
You hum warmly in response, love blossoming in your chest as your hands find their way to the front of Ashveil's pants. Lifting your gaze from Boothill, you seek out Ashveil's to gauge his reactions to the favor you're about to fulfill. He's currently looking at your hands where they rest teasingly along his waistband, his swollen and glistening lips parted in anticipation. Spontaneously deciding you'd like to bully him just a little, you drop your hands to the spot where he's most pent up.
He stiffens, biting his bottom lip to silence a whimper as your hands work at his clothed boner. You snicker deviously beside him when his hips start to twitch, but not wanting to keep Boothill waiting too long, you return to the task at hand. Your fingers are nimble as you unbutton, unzip, and tug his pants and underwear down his thighs, graciously releasing him from his confines. You grin wickedly when his eyebrows furrow at the sudden chill of the room, his member already leaking with excitement.
"Have a seat, detective," you instruct seductively. He obeys without hesitation, the bed dipping from his weight as he sits next to you. Boothill takes it upon himself to free the rest of Ashveil's legs, the discarded pants joining the rest of the clothes that lay strewn about the room.
With his body now completely nude, you follow his altered, black skin down below his waistline. You note how it continues to descend on a jagged path past his right knee. Your inquisitiveness urges your hands forward to drag along his side and you're shocked to discover that it's smooth โ unnaturally lacking imperfections. It's similar to how wounded flesh never fully returns to its natural state, but in a way that doesn't feel quite human. But you're not at all unsettled by this; it only piques your interest further. Your hands continue their survey as they drag along his chest, shoulder, back, and finally his arm where your fingers meet the bits of silver that wind around his forearm.
The contrast is stark. From smooth black to solid silvery planes that jut slightly from the surface of his skin. They remind you of the steel panels of Boothill's body, but they bend and curve with him as though they're one with his organic flesh.
You notice that he's begun to tremble beneath your touch and you're suddenly struck with a realization: this could very well be an injury and your inconsiderate touch might be causing him some degree fo discomfort.
"Does it hurt?" You lift your eyes to his face again, but he doesn't meet your gaze nor answer your question. Instead, he seems entirely focused on something happening below him.
Guided by his line of sight, you see it.
Boothill has Ashveil's cock grasped in one hand as his tongue travels from the base to the tip. His glowing red eye is honing in on every minute change in Ashveil's countenance, but briefly shifting to lock onto you as you join the action. Your cheeks burn under his piercing gaze and the air is stolen straight from your lungs. Fuck. You've never experienced penis envy as severely as you do in this moment.
But you also wouldn't mind being in Boothill's place either. Ashveil looks absolutely delectable as your lover continues to lick stripes along the underside of his shaft, lathering him in spit.
For a moment, you live vicariously through both of them, pressing your chest into Ashveil while the heat swirls in your gut again. The needy, breathy whines from Ashveil; the slurping and dragging of Boothill's lips. They're both so intoxicating and you can't just sit back and watch for long.
With Ashveil resting most of his weight on his arms, he's leaned back just enough to allow you some wiggle room. You bend down, the side of your head resting against his lower stomach as you come face-to-face with Boothill, mouth full and eye lidded. The angle is awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but you don't want to be anywhere else.
Boothill frees his lips with a pop before he smirks at you. "Come to get a taste, princess?" He asks, but it isn't a question.
Leaning around the member that divides you, he plants a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your expectant lips. His tongue is salty when it slides against yours and you moan into his mouth. You're desperately licking further into his wet cavern when he slowly guides you back to where Ashveil stands, waiting and twitching at the thought of two tongues working at him while simultaneously working at each other. The two of you part just enough for his tip to slot itself between you again and the scene is utter debauchery.
You can feel Ashveil's abdomen tighten against your temple when you and Boothill begin licking in tandem, moans muffled against his cock as his intoxicating taste and smell overwhelm your senses. He is quickly unraveling above you, his chest heaving and breath staggering as he fights to contain himself for even a second longer. He doesn't want to finish yet.
But he can't help himself when your tongue bullies the sensitive spot just below the upper ridge of the head. One of his hands tangles roughly in your hair to hold you in place as he shudders, white ropes of his release erupt between your lips and fall messily against your cheek. You let him grind himself along your parted lips as he rides out his orgasm, your eyes hooded and glassy as they remain locked with Boothill's while he licks away whatever is left on the tip.
When Ashveil's hips have stilled and his hand leaves your hair, you slowly return to your seated position, licking your lips clean of his salty, sweet essence.
Boothill ogles you as some of the stickiness drips from your cheek and onto your lap, your hair mussed and cheeks rosy. You look absolutely divine and he's going to ravage you next. He doesn't even waste a second before he's on you. His mouth licks your thighs clean of Ashveil before he moves to do the same to your cheek. The substance gathers on his tongue before he presses it into your mouth, your lashes fluttering shut in response, accepting his advances in earnest and without protest. Arms come up to encompass his neck as you cling to him.
Within a few seconds, he's corralled you back to the center of the bed, never interrupting your kiss until he's resting between your legs. You can feel him pressed firmly against you โ in the place where you need him the most โ and before he even has the chance to do anything about it, you're whining like a bitch in heat.
"Boothill, please, insideโฆ I need you inside me, now." You beg without even being told to and he chuckles at how good you behave for him.
"Patience, sweet girl. Let me get prepared first," he coos reassuringly. His fingers come up to rest against your bottom lip, waiting for admittance when he breathes a command. "Open up."
You obediently take his fingers into your mouth and begin lathering him with spit, licking between each silvery digit and coating him generously. When he deems them wet enough, your arms drop to your chest as he sits back on his heels and brings his hand down to pump at his erection. He does his best to transfer your saliva from his hand to his length, but decides that he'd best be thorough for the sake of your comfort โ or at least that's what he convinces himself to believe, free of ulterior motives.
To get the extra lubrication, he lays the underside of his cock flat against your soaked pussy and grinds on you. The slippery squelch that rings through the air makes you whimper. He drags himself through your wetness once, then twice, and then again and again. Your hands have taken hold of his shoulders and your nails scrape at his metal. You're trying so hard to suppress the suspicion that he's purposely dragging this out longer than he needs to just to piss you off, but he incriminates himself when he smirks at you with that damned cocky glint in his eye.
Bastard, you think as you chew at your bottom lip, doing your best to endure his torment for a little while longer.
Boothill takes great pleasure in the way that your eyes narrow at him, how your eyebrows quiver as they struggle to decide whether to be satisfied or upset. He'd absolutely love to give you a chance to cuss him out, to wrestle pointlessly against his immovable body, but he can hardly endure another moment of his own teasing. He needs to feel you swallowing him whole.
Just as you're about to open your mouth to get bratty with him, he pulls his hips back, a hand to steady himself as he presses against your entrance in earnest. Not once does he break eye contact with you as he slips past the threshold with astonishing ease; a line pinched between his brows, his pupil starts to glow red again with every inch that gets buried within you. The overwhelming warmth of your walls is familiar and yet it still drives him wild each time he sinks to the hilt, breathing out sighs of satisfaction at how perfectly you squeeze him.
Your hands have begun running along the grooves of his perfect, steel body. The one you've come to know by heart from the seconds, minutes, hours you've spent admiring his immaculate form. A soft moan dies behind you lip as you continue to hold it firmly between your teeth.
"That won't do, sweetheart. Let us hear you," Ashveil chimes in.
He'd been observing you and Boothill being sweet on each other for some time now, only needing a moment to recover before deciding he's ready to get a closer look. Settling by your side, he nuzzles his nose against your ear sweetly before cruelly mirroring what he saw Boothill do to you earlier in the night. His tongue darts from his lips and swirls lewdly in your ear, and just like before, the sensation, combined with the feeling of Boothill's completely engulfed shaft, tears an unbridled moan from your lips.
"Good girl," he praises and has you moaning again with only the sultry husk of his voice in your ear.
After hearing you announce your pleasure, Boothill is propelled into action. His hips start a steady pace, pulling back until only the tip remains before leisurely sinking back into you until he's fully engulfed again; each drag of his cock along your walls has him moaning back to you, but he only allows you a moment to re-acclimate to the stretch before he's craving a deeper angle, wanting you to suck him in even further. He momentarily interrupts his own rhythm to draws yours knees up to your chest, resting your ankles against his shoulders as he kisses affectionately at the skin of your calves.
You mewl at his blatant display of affection while he's completely buried in your cunt, absolutely savoring his sweetness despite there being no shortage of it.
Once he's had his fill of body worship, Boothill leans down, arms planted firmly at your side, to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces and your tongues converse like old friends. Your hands comb through his black and white hair before they take hold at the back of his neck, rubbing and scratching pleasantly at his skin as if to beckon him closer. Without needing to adjourn the kiss, Boothill begins to thrust into your heat again, moving with purpose and intent as he strives to give you everything he has to offer. The new pace that he sets isn't rough by any means, but it still has you crying into his mouth at the sheer pressure of him in your gut.
Always so observant, Ashveil had halted his singular attack on your ear to fully witness what was unfolding before him. He could see just about everything from where he lay at your side and he grew hard at the sight of Boothill folding you into a mating press; which gave him a clear view of your point of connection. His mouth watered when he saw Boothill disappear into you, your body so eager to envelop him over and over again. His pulse and temperature rise exponentially as yours and Boothill's combined moans and the wet sounds of separation ring through his ears. Being part of the lonely audience is driving the detective crazy with need, and if he doesn't find something to distract himself soon, he fears he might spontaneously combust. To remedy himself, he decides to resume his previous activity and attaches himself to your ear again.
Your ears have always been especially sensitive, so the abrupt attack from Ashveil has you babbling, moaning, and whining incoherently into Boothill's mouth. The complete and prolonged bombardment by these two men spells your imminent undoing as you fight to remain coherent in spite of their onslaught. The relentless plunge of Boothill's hips as he effortlessly hits the right spot, the overwhelming sound of Ashveil licking and sucking at your ear, it all becomes so oppressive that tears begin rapidly building at your lash line. They stream down your cheeks when you squeeze your eyes closed, thinking to yourself that maybe if you can't see anything, you would be able to reel yourself back to safety; to ground yourself and minimize the damage of the earth-shattering climax you're about to experience. But Boothill won't let you.
"Look at me, baby," his voice is so soft and pleading against your lips that you comply without question โ or without much thought at all โ, effectively sealing your fate when you see that he's looking at you with hearts in his eyes. His expression is so utterly lost in pleasure, in the feeling of you, that you're instantly done in at the first sight of him.
The tether snaps and you're sent hurtling across space and time with no lifeline in sight. You thrust your head back into the pillows beneath you as your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, body shaking and hands gripping at Boothill's roots as though they could anchor you to reality. He groans in response and your walls spasm violently around him, innately seeking to wring him of everything he's worth. Your second orgasm rips through your body, igniting every inch of your nervous system and setting your skin ablaze. Finally, your voice returns as broken, shaky cries escape you.
Boothill grits his teeth when he feels his own peak closing in on him, grunting and groaning in concentration to keep himself from expiring too quickly. Only when your moans begin to regulate does he let himself go. With a long, drawn out moan, his hips stutter against you. Pumping one last time with his full range of motion before he's spilling, hot and sticky, into your womb. He goes rigid, breathing heavily as your cunt swallows up all that it can from his leaking member.
Tears continue streaming from the corners of your eyes, past your temples and into your hairline, as Boothill kisses them away and rocks into you steadily to ride out both of your highs. It takes a while for your tense muscles to relax again, your body no longer trembling, but still occasionally jolting in response to his gentle movements. You can feel his excess dripping from your folds each time he moves against you, only to push what remained deeper into your core. Your cheeks burn at the thought.
When your breathing returns to normal, Boothill pulls out, the most obscene squelch announcing his departure. You whimper at the sudden emptiness, but are grateful for this moment of rest when he removes your legs from their inclined position at his shoulders. He slumps at your side, opposite of Ashveil, as he cuddles into you; kissing at your shoulder, jaw, and cheek before settling to nuzzle into your hair.
"I love you," he whispers. Your heart fluttering innocently as you turn to him and respond in kind.
"I love you too."
At some point during your climax, Ashveil had withdrawn from you to address his own arousal. He'd been pumping incessantly at himself to no avail. He needed something more to sate his appetite, but he's polite enough to give you time to recover and canoodle with your lover. Instead of outright stating his need and requesting your immediate attention, he opts to mouth and nibble at your shoulder, hoping you'll turn his way sooner rather than later.
Only about a minute had passed before you turn to look at him, suddenly feeling guilty for having left him unattended for so long. You're still a bit spacey, but you've never struggled with stamina or want before; even with a cyborg, built for power and endurance, as your partner. Perhaps you could be labeled a nymphomaniac, but you didn't care.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, detective," you coo as you fully turn your body to face him. "Can I help you with anything?"
Your voice is soft and breathy, body heavenly as you lay tantalizingly pressed into his chest. One hand rests at his collarbone while the other strokes lightly at his jawline. He clenches his teeth to calm the beast within him that wants to devour you.
"I want to feel youโฆ please, use me however you like. I just need to feel you on me." He sounds a bit pathetic, but in a way that makes you want to ruin him. You want to make him beg and cry and whimper for more, so that's exactly what you'll do.
You sling your leg around his waist before hoisting yourself upright to straddle him, your hands planted on either side of his head and trapping him where he is. Remnants of Boothill drip onto his lower stomach and his hardened shaft nudges at your ass. You smirk at how he's already biting back a whine.
"You're so polite. I suppose I do owe you a reward for being so well-behaved," you ponder aloud as you lean down to press your chest against his. "But be warned, I don't play very nice from up here."
His eyes widen at your threat, but instantly shut when your lips collide. You bite and tug at his bottom lip before shoving your tongue into his mouth. He moans against you and his hands fly to your hips as he bucks into you on instinct, but this earns him a particularly harsh nip to his lip.
"Careful, wolfie," you warn. "You're not the one in charge hereโฆ"
He whimpers like an abandoned puppy, if he had wolf ears they would have flopped to the side of his head in defeat.
"If you keep up your good behavior, I'll let you take over when I'm done," you bargain with him and suddenly his make-believe wolf ears perk up again.
Your lips return to his, licking and prodding at him as you please. You let him squeeze at the flesh of your hips as you drown yourself in his plush kisses. The sounds he makes as he works to maintain focus are so infuriatingly sexy that you can no longer ignore the way you're pulsing with desire again. Only able to last for a few minutes against his whiny lips, you lift your hips and grasp his throbbing cock in your hand, parting from the kiss.
He nearly cries out at your tight hold on him, but successfully bites it back behind his canines. His gorgeous incisors pressing brutally against his lower lip. When you hold him directly to your entrance his eyes screw shut, his toned abdomen hardening beneath you as he readies himself for what's to come.
"Open your eyes," you demand. When his pretty lashes flutter open again, you immediately collapse onto him, burying him within your walls in a split second. Fortunately for you, being on top gives you more control and thus improves your resolve substantially. You can toy with him like this without worry of succumbing to the pleasure too quickly.
Ashveil moans loudly, unable to bite it back this time. His nails dig into your hips as he struggles to get used to the tight fit; the nails of his prosthetic fingers leave red half-moons in your skin when he slowly starts to loosen his hold. However, he can't quite catch his breath, and you aren't considerate enough to let him return to baseline before you repeatedly raise and drop your hips on him like a tamping rammer.
Boothill watches, amusedly, from the sidelines. He loves it when you get like this, though he pities the man under you as he's laboring tremendously just to breathe. He didn't realize the boss was so high-strung. Even if he hasn't taken anyone to bed in a while, surely he couldn't have gotten this pent up, right?
The cowboy simply wasn't aware of how wrong he was. The broken-legged wolf hasn't had the time nor energy to lay with someone โ much less court someone โ in the last several decades. When he isn't on a case, eating his delivery meals, or out drinking with his old buddies, the detective is busy hibernating in the cryotherapy refrigerator that sits in the corner of his cramped office. He hasn't felt the touch of a lover in Lan knows how long. One could only imagine how much the voracity within him aches to be fed.
Tears begin to well up in his eyes, threatening to slip past his lashes. The clap of your ass against his lap is wicked, and he wants so badly to match your rhythm from below. But he remains bound to your agreement, hanging onto the deal you struck like it's the only undeniable truth left in this world. He reminds himself that the payout will be well worth the hell of idleness that he must endure. His tears fall as his moans become ragged, chest heaving while he ogles your breasts while they bounce tauntingly in front of him.
"Tell me what you want," you demand.
Without so much as a thought, he whines breathlessly. "Please. I want to fuck you. Please. Please let me fuck you."
"Fuck. Be a good boy, and I will," you chew at your bottom lip to calm yourself as best as you can; you hadn't expected such a quick and easy answer. His unabashed response took you by surprise and honestly made it really difficult for you to remain stoic in your endeavors.
His needy sobs fill the air, punctuated by the moist slap of skin and your breathy sighs. He's obeying you so thoroughly and crying so prettily that your authority is beginning to falter. Since the silent acceptance of your pact, he hasn't acted on his instincts at all, save for his hands that claw at your skin. He wants this badly.
As you approach your third, you're beyond ready to pass him the torch. With a few final bounces, you clamp down on him and moan as you hit a shallow, but satisfying peak.
You crumple against his chest, face pressed into the crook of his neck and realization settles in his stomach. He swallows thickly at the thought. It was finally his turn to take control.
"Isโฆ that all?" He inquires jokingly between puffs of staggered breaths.
"Can it, mutt," you cover his mouth with your hand, an utter lack of heat in your words.
He grins against your palm, collecting himself with a few steadying inhales before he laps wetly into your hand. You squeal at his offense, but before you can tear your hand away from him, his fingers firmly encircle your wrist. He holds you still as he starts to playfully nibble at the space between your pointer and thumb.
"Well, I hope you're ready. You've only made my hunger worse," he noses at your fingers. "And I'm playing by your rules, so don't expect me to be gentle."
The last bit comes out as a low growl, his teeth bared and grazing your palm. Your heart drops in your chest. A chuckle rumbles through him when he feels you clenching in response.
With a huff of air through his nostrils, he rolls over to trap you beneath him, still completely sheathed. Finding your second wrist, he raises both to pin them above your head in a single, vise-like grip. His eyes are dark as they scan your frame, a dangerous grin splayed on his lips as he comes into his dominance. He dips his head to lick a thick stripe along the center of your chest, pausing at the space where your clavicles meet.
"There's only so much bullying an old wolf can take," he sighs, mostly to himself, but loud enough for you to hear it.
You're about to open your mouth to apologize to him, but your words instantly die in your throat when he inhales deeply against your jugular, his eyes closed as he hones in on your scent. You suddenly feel like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. His nose drags along the exposed skin of your arms and chest, stopping at seemingly random points along their route to simply sniff, like a bloodhound on a trail. The uncertainty of his intentions makes your breaths shallow, your heart stuttering in your chest as you go completely still to let him continue searching without interruption.
Boothill is looking on in awe at this point. He knew his senior wasn't someone you should take lightly, but this side of him was completely new to him and honestly had the cowboy a bit on edge. He wasn't entirely sure of where this was going, so he makes it a point to keep his guard up in the event that he has to step in. His eyes constantly darting between your face and Ashveil's to get a proper read on the situation.
When Ashveil's nose halts at your breastbone, you hold your breath as you await his verdict.
A final breath heaves from his chest, as if letting himself off a leash, when his eyes meet yours. His once silvery orbs have disappeared and given way to something much darker. They're abyssal, but his pupils have a reddish-pink glow. They no longer look like they belong to the shy detective who couldn't even meet your gaze without blushing. The man above you felt like an entirely different person, but you're not given time to ponder any further when he bares his beastly fangs and engulfs one of your breasts without warning. You yelp out in shock โ your heart nearly leaping out of your chest โ at the sudden pressure as he holds you between his sharp teeth and swirls his thick tongue across your supple flesh. His hips begin moving again, establishing a brutal pace while his free hand clutches at your unattended breast.
You scream and strain against Ashveil's unshakeable hold, the sensations too abrupt and profound for you to really process what is happening. But you do know one thing with absolute certainty: you're really fucking excited. The apprehension had morphed into a morbid arousal when you realized that there was, in fact, something frightening lurking beneath Ashveil's mask. Something voracious.
Your cowboy is just about ready to pull the plug on your behalf when he hears your initial scream, but pauses halfway when it turns into strangled moans. He blinks at you, leaning in closer and thoroughly studying your countenance to better gauge your current state. He notes that your eyes are screwed shut, brows creased, and face impossibly flushed as your mouth hangs open in overwhelming satisfaction. A huff of relief leaves his lungs, understanding that you're doing perfectly fine despite how rough Ashveil is being. For the time being, he decides to settle closer to your side, silently keeping a close eye on you.
Ashveil, not noticing Boothill's proximity, releases your breast and moves on to leaving bite marks across the expanse of your chest. His pace hasn't wavered, his cravings far from being satisfied as he continues to ram into you. You're scrambling to catch your breath and your arms are still wrestling for freedom, but he doesn't care; entirely focused on marking your chest to his liking. The only thing that catches his attention in the end is your body signaling to him that you're on the brink of yet another climax. He raises his hungry gaze to watch your face as he gets you painfully close to the edge before cruelly withdrawing from you.
A labored sob escapes your lips and your eyes fly open to look at him as he leaves you high and dry. Your hips buck uselessly in search of him, only to earn a predatory chuckle from the perpetrator.
"Ashveil," you whine, voice going hoarse from all your screams and gasps. "S'no fair!"
"You started it, dear. Now turn around," he commands as he releases your wrists.
Hardly comprehending his request, you blink cluelessly at him; your mind still reeling from his prior mistreatment. Your inaction seems to agitate him as he impatiently tugs and pushes you into his desired position: flat on your stomach.
While reorienting yourself, you're met with Boothill's comforting visage as he lay propped up on an elbow beside you. Your teary eyes are captivated by his familiar beauty as he leans in to kiss you.
You sigh longingly when he breaks the kiss to speak. "Ya farin' alright?" He asks and to which you nod the affirmative.
However, your moment of respite is cut short when Ashveil bullies his way back into your cunt from behind. The weight of his body pressing into your back as he bottoms out with an animalistic groan. You gasp at the sheer fullness you feel โ not just between your legs, but all the way up to your lungs and throat.
The starving beast on top of you picks up where he left off, his hips snapping ruthlessly against your rear as he fucks you deeper into the bed below. Your mind goes blank as he hammers into you, using your body as a means to an end. If you could form any coherent thoughts, you'd be going wild over the idea of being used by such a pretty man. Instead, you're fucked senseless and left with your eyes rolled back and jaw hanging open in a silent "oh".
When Ashveil's peak is finally within reach, he lets you know by biting down on your shoulder hard. It isn't quite enough to draw blood, but you'll definitely be bruised in the morning. You scream out in protest, but your inner muscles tighten violently around him; constricting him as he chases after his high. In one swift movement, his arm snakes up the front of your body to capture your throat in his claws. Your lashes flutter as he squeezes at your jugular, restricting the flow of blood to your brain.
His growls are fragmented against the aching flesh of your shoulder and his thrusts have become desperate and erratic. He's huffing exasperated breaths through his nostrils and into your hair when suddenly he stalls, hips jerking sporadically when he empties into your already filled womb. He mixes shamelessly with Boothill at your core.
Feeling the hot mess oozing from your cunt, onto your thighs and the sheets below, sends you over your own edge. Boothill, having watched over every second of this encounter, recognizes your approach and kisses at your gaping mouth, trailing across your lips and along your jaw. He soothingly talks you through it with repeated encouragements like: just like that, you're doing so well, you're perfect, and don't hold back.
Your final release is rapturous as you choke on your moans, mind fuzzy from the lack of blood flow and the severe dichotomy between the actions of the two men before you. The sheets below you are sure to be soaked through as you gush around the cock that remains buried to the base. Ashveil had finished, but he continued to grind against your ass to let you revel in your high for a while longer.
Loosening his hold on your neck and releasing your shoulder from his maw, having returned to a state of clarity, the sated wolf licks apologetically at the indents left by his teeth. He feels a bit guilty for letting himself go to such an extent, but your quivering body and soft mewls calm his anxieties. When your sounds subside and devolve into stable, heaving breaths, he removes himself from you and collapses at your side. A hand remaining at the small of your back to rub affectionate shapes into the damp skin.
Boothill continues peppering your face with kisses when you fall into the pillows below you. He brushes your hair behind your ear, looking at you adoringly before he leans in to nuzzle and kiss at your moist temple. "You alright, love?"
You don't open your eyes, still absolutely wrecked, but you hum pleasantly in response.
With one last kiss, Boothill shifts to leave the bed. In a few moments he's returned to your side with towels and a bottle of water. He breaks the seal on the bottle, but leaves it closed near your hand while he busies himself with wiping you down. You sigh contentedly at his gentle strokes across your forehead and cheeks.
Ashveil recovers himself and aids Boothill in cleaning you up. They work together to delicately maneuver your body, treating you like precious porcelain and making sure they don't miss a single inch of your skin. Occasionally they'd pause to press their lips against your figure in an act of reverence. By the time they've completed their self-imposed assignment, you've recuperated enough to take a couple of sips from the water bottle Boothill had left you.
The two excuse themselves briefly to take care of the residue left on their own bodies before they reunite with your sides; Boothill on your right and Ashveil to your left. Both of them nestle against your neck, breathing in your scent. Boothill pulls a fresh blanket over your bodies before his arm wraps around your ribcage, resting just below your breasts as his hand rubs soothing circles into your skin. Ashveil intentionally remains outside of the covers, but his arm rests at your hipbone, massaging you through the blanket to the best of his ability. Tranquil silence hangs over all of you like a gossamer canopy, filling the spaces in-between with intimate breaths.
Ashveil is the first to break the silence.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whimpers, his warm breath fanning your jugular. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I completely understand if you never want to seeโ"
You interrupt him before he can finish his rambling. "I'm okay, Ashveil. You don't have to apologize."
A small sound escapes him when you bring your hand up to pet at the side of his head. He sniffles lightly under your reassuring touch, so relieved that he's moved to tears.
You giggle when you realize he's crying for the second time tonight. "Y'know, for such a powerful man, you really are quite sensitive." This earns you a weak grumble as he buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "I think it's cute."
"He is pretty cute when he's being a crybaby," Boothill chimes in. "Though I must admit, ya really threw me for a loop when ya got on top."
The detective, knowing Boothill is addressing him, raises his head to look in the cowboy's direction. A look of genuine concern on his face. "Why didn't you stop me?"
"She was enjoying it," he answers plainly.
Your cheeks burn at how his statement leaves his lips with such nonchalance. You don't add anything to the conversation as you hide your face in your hands.
"Aw sweetheart, feelin' shy even after everything's been said and done?"
Ashveil is also left speechless, a flush on his cheeks as he processes what's been said.
"Oh c'mon, why're ya both bein' so bashful all of a sudden?" The cowboy continues to poke fun at you two.
But you can't handle anymore of his taunting and clap a hand against his lips to shut him up. "Leave us alone!"
He laughs warmly against your palm before kissing into your fingers.
"I'm just joking, baby."
The three of you continue to bicker and joke for some time before you start to doze off between them. Perfectly comfortable in their combined embrace. You didn't have to say it, but each of you knew that this wouldn't be the last time a meeting like this would take place.
โก afterword - oh hey, 'ppreciate you for making it this far. hope my bootveil likers enjoyed the lil bit of early game action ehehe. i would honestly have leaned even harder into the bootveil moment, but i wasn't sure if there was any demand for that LOL is bootveil nation out there? do they exist? please welcome me into the gates of heaven, i am so fucking desperate, PLEASE !!
anyways, thank you sm for reading !! (หถ>โฉ<หถ)
Zenless Zone Zero (ZZZ) 2025 Birthday Artwork transparent renders:
ZZZ Hugo Vlad, Von Lycaon, Lighter, Ben Bigger, Yixuan, Yuzuha, Seth Lowell, & Rina / Alexandrina transparent renders!
Google Drive Linkย for full quality
>ย Please do not repost
> Renders are F2U, no credit needed
> If you prefer Discord, here is aย link to my server!
Audio Drama 1 Translation
Audio Drama 2 Translation
Audio Drama 3 Translation
Audio Drama 4 Translation
Audio Drama 5 Translation
Audio Drama 6 Translation
Audio Drama 7 Translation
Audio Drama 8 Translation
Audio Drama 9 Translation
~Translations arenโt mine. Links lead to the original translation~
Remembering How to Stop (Post-Penacony. Light Angst. Fluff. Cuddling) (Wc: 832)
That Is All That Matters To Me (Dan Heng IL Post-Revelation. Hurt/Comfort. Acceptance. Pining. Quiet Confessions) (Wc: 1089)
Ask Him Yourself (Mutual Attraction. Voice Kink (Reader). Tension. Soft Smut. MDNI. Intimacy. Dan Heng Loses Control (a little). (Wc: 2114)
Orbit (Established relationship. Reunion. Bubbly and clumsy reader. Soft intimacy and reunion sex (fade-to-black). Laughter and Teasing) (Wc: 1326)
Midnight Tempo (Slow Dancing. Intimacy. Kisses) (Wc: 649)
The Weight of Stories (Phainon. Dan Heng. Aventurine. x Reader. Separate) (Hurt/Comfort. Warm Hugs. Vulnerable Reader. Reader Crying. Soft Physical Affection. Gentle Intimacy. Modern-ish Setting. Canon Divergent. Tenderness. Protective Behavior) (Wc: 1397 (about 460 per guy)
Exactly Right (Fluff. Established Relationship. Clingy Reader. Anxious Reader. Fear of Being Too Much. Reassurance. Gentle Dan Heng) (Wc: 441)
Until Sleep Finds Us (Working Title) (Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Post-Xianzhou Trauma. Insomnia. Lullabies. Humming. Falling Asleep Together) (WIP)
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Oneshots:
To Be Worshiped, To Be Seen (Working Title) (Body Worship, Dan Heng receiving, pre-3.6) (WIP)
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Headcanons:
How Dan Heng Falls in Love and What He Wants In a Partner (Wc: 1600)
How He Takes Care Of You When You're Sick (Phainon. Dan Heng. Separate) (Wc: 1700, about 850 per guy)
Jealousy Headcanons (When someone flirts with you vs. when someone flirts with him) (Phainon. Dan Heng. Aventurine. Separate) (Wc: 732, about 350 per guy)
Which Body Features He Cherishes the Most (Phainon. Dan Heng. Aventurine. Separate) (Wc: 766, about 250 per guy)
When You're Always Cold (And How He Reacts) (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Dan Heng. Separate) (Wc: 562, about 140 per guy)
When Your Energy Runs Out (And He Notices) (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Jing Yuan. Dan Heng. Separate) (Wc: 746, about 150 per guy)
What He Sees In You (Phainon. Anaxa. Mydei. Dan Heng. Boothill. Separate) (Reader feels insecure about their looks because of past bullying. Comfort. Protection) (Wc: 1721, about 340 per guy)
When Words Come Easier Written (Anaxa. Dan Heng. Separate) (Wc: 691, about 350 per guy)
When You Go E6S5 For Him (And He Realizes It) (Anaxa, Dan Heng, Boothill, Argenti. Separate.) (Self Aware Characters, F2P Reader, extreme dedication ) (Wc: 1084, about 270 per guy)
When You Pat Him On the Head and Tell Him Youโre Proud of Him Anaxa. Dan Heng. Aventurine. Blade. Dr. Ratio. x Reader. Separate) (Wc: 1089 in total)
hi there! this is my first ever post on here LMAO.... and what better time to get started on writing than during the infamous kinktober? HEH.
before you read any of these works, just know that english is not my first language so grammar mistakes will definitely be seen, so i sincerely apologize for any mistakes! also, i am not the freakiest person ever so don't expect CRAZY levels of freak in these. i think they'll be kinda tame tbh idk?
fyi, all of these works will be character x fem!reader!
Okay!! OKAYY!! Starting off with an strong one!! We all know and love her. Ofc its Super Gals. If you were to ask any gal of what anime to watch when starting off your gyaru journey, its most likely going to be Super Gals.
A lighthearted anime following the adventures and life lessons with Ran and her friends. A confident gal who knows what she wants and will not let anything stop her from getting it. Throughout the show youโll see her defending her turf in Shibuya, battling rivals, trying to make through school, and even find true love fufu~
But, most importantly I cannot forget the classic โGal Lingo Class For Good Kidsโ Its a bunch of fun lingo and vocabulary to add in your sentences. Every gal should know it!
โBuzz off Carried!!!โ
โBig surprise ,she was dressed all Mat Gal! Wild huh?โ
โSheโs way Crushed On Otohataโ
(A common one that eveyone should know but still felt like adding it)
Every gyaru(o) should watch Super Gals, thats an Iron Clad Rule!!
Find out more about Nozomi Entertainment's release of Super GALS at http://www.nozomient.com/ Sporting designer clothes, designer make-up, a
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Hime Gal Paradise
This one is for all my hime Gals!! This beauty starts off with a โPlain Janeโ named Himeko. A quiet girl who doesnโt fit in with all the other girls at her school (which is filled with majority gyarus along with being an all girls school) . Then all of a sudden a beautiful and bodacious Hime Gal appears, but suprise surprise, its a boy!??? Whaaaa??
Tochiotome, who believes gender should not hold back on fashion and that anyone should be wear what they want, helps Himeko become the princess she truly is (even though her own attempts look a lil silly sometimes).
He is absolutely gorgeous in his outffits and is very creative, a trendsetter even! Even when out of gal, he looks charming and everyone knows that! Chล Shibuya High School is filled with such fun characters and funny moments.
It evens give lil tips and tricks to upgrade an outffit from an flat zero to a HUNDRED. Who knew who can turn a simple cute lil hair tie to a ring.
But of course, there cant be only ONE gorgeous gal in this town. Everyone LOE AND BEHOLD, MASUMII!!! Yes, I am being biased BUT to be fair she is Tochioโs rival when it comes down to fashion contests and who can decoden a hamburger better.
Idk if its the lack of subtitles on youtube but I really do enjoy when rivals can sometimes get along and dance parapara together. Like yeah were totally going to see who has the better co*de but not before we dance to Suspira first!!
Anywayss!! The first four eps can be found on youtube, theyre short too. I have noo idea where to find the rest, so im warning you now. BUT dont let that stop you from watching this goldmine of an anime.
ใฒใใฎใฃใซใใฉใใคใน
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Super Baby
AUGHH THIS MANGA IS SO CUTE!! A heartwarming story of a country side Yamamba gal, Tamao, who moves to tokyo to pursue her dreams. Strapped for cash, she finds a job at Machido 109. Not only did she find a place to work but she also finds her lover!! An unappealing boring looking guy at first glace, but hey! Looks arnt everything people.
Its honestly adorable of how much effort these two put into a relationship. While reading it I deff was angry at some characters , especially a certain sister cough cough.
I forgot to mention that Tamao style changes from Yamanba to more of an Onee gyaru. Dont fret! She still has her long nails, lavish lashes and her tan skin.I wish I can show you her fits along side her bestie, but ya gorl can only show so many pics. (๏ผ`ะยด)
I havent finished reading it, as you can tell by the shorter description, but its def worth to read if you want to get cozy somewhere. Im pretty sure I reposted somee stuff on this manga too.
Ughh their relationship makes me so jelly
๏ผผ๏ผ๏ผดโ๏ผด๏ผ๏ผ
A super sweet and heartwarming story about a gal from the countryside who moves to Tokyo with big dreams as a Yamamba and later turns into a
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Temptation of Shiro Gal and Kuro Gal
WAITTT!!I KNOW THE COVER IMAGE LOOK REALLYY WEIRD BUT I PROMISE ITS NOT. Trust me please
(ใใญใ)
The manga mainly follow three people. Rei, the shiro gal and Naro, the kuro gal. Along with their classmate โOtaku-kunโ whose always involved in one thing or another. When first reading you would think that Rei and Naro would be seducing OtakuKun, surprisingly not. If anything, he seems more like a wing man.
The situation is the complete opposite of what you might think. Naro actually has a crush on Rei! Woww!! So if you enjoy YURI OR ANYTHING SAPPHIC, Im pretty sure youll enjoy this read. Naro is soo cute whenver she interacts with Rei. All three of them are such cuties.
Throughout the manga so far, Naro trys many ways and overcomes obstacles to get closer to Rei. Its funny how OtakuKun approaches the situations too. He totally the type to be like โhey I cant do this event with you right now BUT I KNOW WHO CANNโ and then just pulls out Naro.
Rei, the white gal, and Natsuyu, the black gal, gets their classmate "Otaku-kun" involved in one thing or another.
You'd think the two of
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HONORABLE MENTION
ChocoMimi
A comic about two fashionable besties expanding their friendship, funny stories and develop crushes too! I wanted to add this adorable comic here because I feel like it help someone.
The two girls, Choco and Mimi. Choco who is more serious and reliable and Mimi who is silly and spoiled. Its not mainly focused on fashion but it does play a role in the comic.
Choco who likes to wear American fashion. I feel like her outfits would help someone who likes to wear amekagi and Choco with hime gyaru. Im pretty sure you can get some good inspo off their outffits, because I know I did.
dededos
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
gummygunk
