Lelouch Lamperouge × Female! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd) || Inspired by Great Pretender
➢ Dark Themes && Not Proofread , Oneshot && 3,056
➢ The charismatic, good looking, and highly intelligent lad named Lelouch Lamperouge is a pretender who lives on two lives. He can even confidently say that he is a great pretender, though what he didn't know was that there was another pretender in his class.
The classroom hummed with the low, distracted noise of students packing up. Afternoon sun slanted through the blinds in neat bars, warming the dust motes that lazily orbited the desks. At the front, with the air of someone who belonged to two worlds, Lelouch Lamperouge folded his hands and watched the room with a calm, measuring gaze. He had cultivated the appearance of a king in exile, refined, composed, and entirely in control. A master pretender who could slip between masks without missing a breath.
Across from him, Y/N L/N moved through the rows, collecting papers with efficient, practiced motions. Her face was an impassive mask most of the time, but there was a sharpness to her eyes that cut through complacency. She didn’t need the spotlight; she preferred to hold it at arm’s length and watch how others performed under it.
“Hey Lelouch, I just found out that not all girls are crazy for you,” Rivalz announced, leaning on the back of a chair like he’d just discovered something scandalous.
“Oh? Do tell,” Lelouch replied, voice smooth as silk, only the faintest hint of curiosity tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Rivalz glanced around theatrically. “Apparently our beloved class president, Y/N L/N, hates your guts. Don’t ask me why, it’s all stupid speculation.”
“Some say it’s because she’s always second in academics while you’re first without breaking a sweat,” another student supplied, voice full of idle amusement.
“While others say you rejected her in a humiliating way,” Rivalz added, lowering his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “Say, did you really-”
Lelouch let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I may be arrogant, but I would not go so far as to shame someone for their feelings.”
“Then… Why does she hate you?” Rivalz asked, nudging him with a grin.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m not invested in gossip,” Lelouch said, casual and dismissive. Yet when Y/N came closer with a stack of worksheets, his attention snagged; he noticed the small stiffness around her mouth and the way her smile never reached her eyes. Intrigue stirred quietly, the sort that pretenders find irresistible and then he let it go. Curiosity, for the moment, would be contained.
“Lighten up, will you? Who knows, you might find her interesting. Maybe you could clear whatever misunderstanding there is.” Rivalz clapped his hands, already back to joking.
Y/N set the papers down on Rivalz's desk. “Mr. Cardemonde, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Any ideas for the upcoming field trip?” Her tone was polite, flat, and an efficient shield.
“Nope,” Rivalz said, shrugging. He turned to Lelouch and patted his back like presenting a prize. “Lelouch here wants to invite you to lunch with the student council.”
Silence folded over the desks. Faces turned. A tiny ripple of anticipation moved through the room; even whispers are rumors’ wind.
“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Vice-President, but I don’t have time,” Y/N replied. Her smile was measured, polite, the kind people used at events when they could not be bothered to be genuine. “Though I appreciate it.”
Lelouch watched the smile settle and fade before it had a chance to be real. He could read people his part-time talent and the daily exercise of pretending and he recognized the careful construction of hers. Something like curiosity rose again, quieter this time. He kept his distance, he would not pry the seam of another’s mask, not yet.
Word spread fast, and the war between facades and truth moved onto another stage. When the Black Knights began recruiting, the atmosphere shifted from whispered rumor to open defiance. Y/N signed up not because she sought adventure, but because she chose where her loyalties lay. She arrived at the meeting place with the same composed air she wore at school, a steady cadence to her step, a face that betrayed almost nothing.
Zero’s lieutenants surrounded her when she entered, boots and weapons forming a small, tense circle. Cold steel glittered. For a heartbeat she was the only soft thing in that ring.
“Didn’t think a Britannian would join my ranks,” someone said, voice laced with amusement and threat. Hands moved to holsters and rifles trained on her.
A smirk curved across Y/N’s mouth like a dim light. “Easy now. You wouldn’t want your location exposed, would you?” she asked, voice level and calm. She didn’t flinch under the points of their guns.
One of the guards barked a laugh. “We’ll see about that.”
“I left a message with my roommate,” Y/N continued. “If I don’t come back within three hours, she will call the police and report this exact location.” She checked a small watch on her wrist. “You’ve been interviewing recruits for two hours and thirty-five minutes. That leaves twenty-five minutes.”
They exchanged looks. The tension thinned into skepticism.
“If you ask me, that’s not enough time to escape,” someone murmured.
Y/N’s face hardened, seriousness folding into the planes of it. “Then hear me out before you reject me.”
“And if we do not recruit you?” Ogi demanded.
“Then she calls,” Zero said coldly, but Y/N shook her head.
“As long as I’m back on time, no one gets arrested.” She kept her tone steady. Practicality was the armor she presented.
Zero’s eyes narrowed. He had read reports, snippets of rumors, observations from those who noticed her manner and the impressions had been consistent. Y/N was a person of principle. She kept her promises. If she said she’d return in three hours, she probably would. The Black Knights could use her as leverage if she failed, but the gamble seemed small. Zero glanced at the Black Knights to lower their weapons before making his decision.
“Why should we take you?” Diethard asked. “You attend Ashford. You’re practically Britannian.”
Y/N smiled, a small, cutting thing. “I’m not even truly Britannian. I’m an honorary Britannian living with my Aunt and Uncle, one Japanese, one Britannian. My birth parents were Japanese. I have the papers.”
“Those are probably fake,” someone sneered.
“They’re not,” she answered, and the way she said it carried weight, signatures in ink, a red stamp that the Britannians used to seal legitimacy. Zero’s eyes flicked to her hand, then to her face. She wasn’t trying to impress, she was asserting identity.
“You expect me to believe that,” Diethard scoffed, “and that you’d be loyal?”
“You need people who can think,” Y/N shot back. Her voice carried a quiet disdain for theatrics and a clear preference for competence. “Not just pawns.”
“Why you-” someone began, but a sharp rebuke from Kallen cut him off.
Tamaki antsy, loud, fond of theatrics, fluttered forward, his gun pointed at Y/N but she interrupted him with an irritating quip. “You’ve known me for like ten minutes and want me dead. Seems a bit much, no?”
Zero folded his arms and fixed Y/N with a look that could be warm or cold depending on the weather. He thought of the reports, of the careful way she answered questions, of the no-nonsense edge beneath her composed exterior. He saw usefulness, and perhaps a spark of something dangerous: a mind that didn’t simply accept orders.
“You’re in,” Zero said finally. “You’ll assist Diethard in Media and Intelligence.”
She inclined her head, acceptance wrapped in guarded satisfaction. The interview ended with frayed nerves and a new recruit added to their cause.
Lelouch’s interest in Y/N had been a quiet, simmering thing, a flicker left to burn behind the deliberate reserve he displayed. He kept his distance, maintained his mask. But curiosity is a dishonest lover, it finds any excuse to look closer.
He came across Y/N and Kallen one afternoon in the student council room, both of them leaning over a game of chess that Kallen had insisted on. The pieces stuck like punctuation between them, little mountains on the board.
“Say, Y/N, I heard rumors about you and Lelouch…” Kallen teased, eyes bright with the giddy cruelty of a friend who loves gossip.
Y/N sighed, a sound that was more exasperation than surrender. “You just ruined my appetite.”
“Oh, not in the mood then? I’ll bring it up later,” Kallen said with a wink.
“You’re curious, right? There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ll satiate your curiosity.” Y/N set her jaw. “I don’t hate him.”
Kallen blinked. “You don’t?”
“No.” She looked at the board as if thinking about the move she should make, but her fingers hovered over no piece. “There’s… something about him I can’t accept. It’s private. It’s something he needs to choose to share.”
Kallen leaned in, insistent. “Like what?”
Y/N’s eyes fixed on the pawn nearest her. “Whenever I see him I have this stupid urge to chuck a rock at his face.” She let a short, incredulous laugh escape. “He gets everything so easily, academics, popularity, and everything else. Imagine working your arse off, clawing your way up, and then someone else just… rockets past you on looks and talent.”
Kallen laughed, a surprised little sound. “So you’re jealous.”
“You’d be jealous too,” Y/N said, and for the first time she sounded less like a practiced mask and more like the person beneath, raw, human, irritated at life’s injustices.
Lelouch had always understood masks. He had worn them so long that sometimes he could forget the face beneath, yet watching Y/N peel back a sliver of herself aroused something unfamiliar, the desire to be known, not as Zero or as the aloof student, but simply as someone who could be seen. He invited her to lunch, to play chess. He offered small excuses to be nearer, to watch the way her jaw set when she focused, the small creases that gathered at the corners of her eyes when she allowed a rare smile.
And as walls began to soften, as their conversation shifted from barbed remarks to lingering, honest moments, the pretense that had defined both of them threatened to unravel. The great pretender found another mask he wanted to remove, and the girl who kept promises felt the dangerous pull of letting someone in.
They were both pretending, each in their own way but the distance between masks had narrowed, and in that narrowing something dangerous and tender was beginning to grow.
Lelouch had perfected the art of appearing uninterested. It was an armor as precise as any uniform, cool posture, a gaze that measured and catalogued, and a voice that hinted at amusement but kept its hand firmly hidden. He used that armor like breathing. It served him well in classrooms, in council meetings, and among those who watched for cracks in facades.
When he asked Y/N to lunch, an invitation framed as casual politeness, practical and perfectly rehearsed, he told himself it was for information, another data point collected in the quiet ledger of his observations. If she accepted, he might see how her mind worked beyond the terse answers she gave in front of others. If she refused, he would note her reasons and move on. It was all tidy, contained. He told himself that as he waited under the awning of the student council room, a chessboard folded in his bag like an excuse.
Y/N arrived on time, as she always did. Her uniform was immaculate, the hem of her skirt fell straight, her blouse pressed. Yet there was a looseness to her shoulders that suggested she’d chosen this appointment, that it was not an imposition but a small experiment of her own. She carried her tray with one hand and sat opposite him without preamble, eyes flicking to the chessboard as if considering how to dismantle a problem on sight.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she said. Her tone was neutral, but there was a cue of something softer beneath it, like the edge of a blade polished only enough to hint at the sheen beneath.
“You’re punctual,” Lelouch remarked, setting his own tray down. The student council room felt smaller here, private by default. With the hum of distant classrooms, a muffled soundtrack, afternoon light soft behind frosted glass.
“And you expect nothing less from a person who schedules appointments and school events,” she replied. She pushed a piece of toast across her tray with a fork and watched him eat as if cataloguing his mannerisms for study.
Lelouch accepted the observation with a faint smile. “People who organize know the value of time,” he said. “And I wanted a game.”
“A game?” Y/N’s brow lifted, half challenge, half curiosity. “Is that what you call it now?”
“Chess,” he corrected. He opened his bag and set the board between them. The pieces clicked into place in neat rows; the sound was domestic, trivial, but between them it felt ceremonial. He handed her the white pieces without a preface. “You may start.”
She hesitated, only a fraction, then picked up a pawn and moved it forward two squares. It was a practical opening: not flashy, not defensive, just efficient. She played the same way as she spoke, measured, precise, with the vertical honesty of someone uninterested in posturing.
They traded moves, pieces, and comments in a rhythm that was at once competitive and conversational. The chessboard became a field for testing, for observation. Y/N favored narrow, constricting plays; Lelouch favored setups that forced choices. Underneath each exchange, they probed one another for something neither would name.
“So you really don’t care about the rumors?” she asked after a quiet moment, voice soft enough that it could be easily mistaken for ordinary curiosity.
“I care about things that matter,” he said. “Rumors about me rarely do. People like to ascribe motives they can understand to someone they can’t.”
“You make people uncomfortable,” she said bluntly, not looking at him. She pushed a knight forward, teeth bared slightly at the concentration.
“That’s often a useful byproduct.” He allowed himself a flicker of amusement at her frankness. “And you? You don’t seem to care what people think either.”
She paused, searching for the move that would let her keep both shape and truth. “I care about competence,” she said finally. “And about not being steamrolled by someone else’s fortune.”
“Jealousy, then.” His bishop slid across to threaten her queen with a clean, clinical gesture.
“You’d call it that,” she said, tone dry. “But it’s not as petty as it sounds. It’s more an irritation at systems that reward people for being born into advantage.”
He studied her profile. The rightness of her words, sharp, earnest, reminded him of why he often found himself drawn to anomalous minds. A person who resisted simple narratives became a puzzle with moving parts. “And if you could change the system?”
She made a small, humorless laugh. “Wouldn’t we all? I try in small ways. I don’t imagine I’ll tear the world down alone.”
He moved his queen with delicate precision, threading a threat through the center. “Small ways add up,” he said.
She met his eyes for the first time across the board. There was a flicker, surprise, perhaps, or a recognition that they both understood more than the other would admit. “You’re full of platitudes, Lelouch,” she teased.
He felt something like warmth at her use of his given name, it was minor and oddly intimate. “I prefer the word truths,” he replied. “They’re less careless.”
The meal dwindled. A few pieces were taken, rooks, a bishop. The game’s stakes were not about checkmate but about the clean exchange of observations, a pawn sacrificed, a rook traded, a tempo gained. Conversation moved from the chessboard to school, to the Black Knights in quieter tones. Y/N’s answers were careful but not evasive, she measured what she revealed.
“You joined them,” Lelouch said finally, softer than he intended. He watched the way her hand stilled on the table.
“Yes,” she replied. “Because I chose it. Because sometimes you have to put yourself in places where you can do more than grumble.”
“And the interview?” he asked.
She bit her lip almost imperceptibly. “Difficult. Tense. I told them the truth about my papers and my family, and they… tested me. It’s the sort of thing that forces you to find out what you’re willing to take responsibility for.”
He listened, cataloguing not only content but cadence and breath. The way she described responsibility had a stubborn curve to it—not noble for show, but steady like a foundation.
“You’re not like other people I know,” Lelouch said, because a direct confession was a different kind of gambit. “You keep promises.”
Her eyes narrowed, then softened. “We both keep whatever promises we decide are worth keeping,” she countered.
“And what promises have you kept?” he asked.
She named a few mundane things that suddenly felt intimate because they were all small acts of fidelity to a life lived quietly hard. The more she spoke, the more he saw a pattern, the discipline, the care, the refusal to perform.
A chorus of laughter from the hallway snapped the moment. For a second, the ordinary world intruded and their quiet bubble threatened to pop. He felt the old instinct to retreat, to clamp down again on emotion and return to mask but the move made him hesitate. Something about the way she had relaxed, if only a fraction, piqued him. The pretender in him wanted to know more, and the man beneath wanted to keep her near.
They finished the game in a draw, an outcome they both accepted, unsatisfied enough to promise another match. As they packed the pieces away, their hands brushed briefly. It was fleeting, a static shock of contact that neither pursued but that lingered in the edges of both their thoughts.
“You’re invited to student council events,” he said as they stood. “Not just lunches. Chess, discussions if you ever find the time.”
She gave him a small, half-smile that had the honest weight of someone who rarely did small, easy social lies. “I’ll think about it.”
➢ "Reblog to support your favorite writer" belong to @/benkeibear
If we are talking within an AU where Lelouch remains the Emperor then I can see him maintaining such an attitude around his darling. As a student Lelouch has to refrain his obsession when around you as he is working towards a vision and neither wishes for you to get involved nor for you to figure him out.
It's only once he is the Emperor that his advances become much more obvious and his intentions crystal clear. He may still offer you the illusion of choice but at this rate you no longer buy into it. You know that even if you reject him right now, he is going to have you arrested for supposed treason to then lock you away within his private quarters.
He has his Geass and could easily force you to obey and love him but he never makes use of that power. At least not to such an extreme. If you prove to be sneaky he may command you to never leave the city unless he is with you to prevent you from fleeing on your own without actively overwriting your own will.
For the Yan MBTI, may I request Lelouch vi Britannia?
Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, controlling behavior, paranoia, overprotective behavior, manipulation, threats, blackmail, violence, unethical use of his Geass (so basically nothing new)
Tags: @animanwha @l-stvrlightt-l
Yandere MBTI
Lelouch vi Britannia is a CAMS.
Cruel
♟️Lelouch for me is very interesting as his morally very complex motives and his perspective on his own actions aren't always inheritantly cruel. He does care about his loved ones and is prepared to sacrifice the world for them, even at the cost of other people's life and his own sanity and soul. Nunnally and you are such people he is willing to go to such great lengths for but the more he takes advantage of his Geass to strive towards the justice and the world he envisions, the crueler and more evil his actions become. Until it eventually reaches a level where he knows he is hurting you emotionally but continues to commit them anyways. It is still for the greater good within his own mind but he does no longer justify them to you as fiercely as he might have done once upon a time. No longer is it a priority of his to have you understand just how much he is sacrificing as he no longer requires your permission to ease his mind as his own ambition has completely taken over. Sometimes he may attempt to be more reverent but at that point it is already far too late as you refuse to forgive him, leading him to double down on his cruel side instead. Fine then. He doesn't require your love. He just needs to ensure that you remain his.
Aware
♟️Despite all of the atrocities he tends to reduce to a regrettable but justified sacrifice for a better world, Lelouch is well aware that you do not love him. Maybe once upon a time you did but that has been in a distant past that no longer feels real. A time before the Geass, before his time as Zero and before his time as the Emperor of the New World he has molded to his own vision. It would be perhaps stranger to believe that you still harbor affection for him after all he has done to you, from tearing you away from your family and friends from whom you haven't heard to this day to locking you away within a single room with one solitary window you can gaze out off and mourn your loss of freedom. However, at one point even your hatred begins to fade as it is instead replaced by apathy as you begin to ignore his very presence within the room as if having deemed him to be unworthy of even a crumb of your attention. That in Lelouch's mind is the most unforgivable thing of all. He shall never be ignored by you. He'd rather torment you verbally then by fuelling your anger so you may lash out on him again then be treated like he is mere air. Love and hatred are two sides of the same coin after all. As long as he can haunt your thoughts by being hated by you, he would be fine.
Manipulative
♟️There are always secrets. There are always things you never find out. Nunnally and you both have been lied to and have been made the victims of Lelouch's schemes and intrigues and the both of you have paid a heavy price for being deceived by him. Even after Lelouch has achieved everything he has ever planned, he doesn't stop lying and witholding important information. You still have no clue what has happened to your family after the conflicts settled, always haunted by that churning fear within your stomach that maybe they were made casualties of the war. You don't even know what the layout of the place looks like where you are being kept, making every attempt to possibly escape extremely difficult. However, the most grave thing Lelouch ever does to you is by using your Geass on you. You fear that he is going to force you to love him and to return his affection. Instead he sets a very clear set of conditions which forbid you to ignore him nor to ever leave him. Your emotional state is not overwritten yet your freedom of will is still greatly limited as you are incapable of ignoring and escaping him from that day on. You are essentially a bird whose wings have been clipped from that moment on.
Strict
♟️Boxed into a schedule you have to obey every single day, on most days you feel like you are about to suffocate. Your room only consists of a bed- and a bathroom with the needed amenities, maybe a bookshelf with stories and books he has chosen himself for your entertainment. Otherwise your only option is to gaze out of that locked window, reminiscing of a time where you were able to run around freely. You are let outside every morning, noon and evening for a meal you are forced to share with him. Always at the same time. Always escorted by guards he has brainwashed with his Geass to obey him. The only person aside from him you get to interact with without having to ask for explicit allowance is Nunnally who finds herself in a similar situation as you do. The only time this mundane schedule is broken is when Lelouch himself is taking you out to spend time with you and you are compelled to obey him despite not wishing to even be within his proximity. If you used to write diaries or journals within the past, you stop doing it very quickly the moment you find out that Lelouch confiscates such private writings to read them himself. So you stop writing or expressing yourself completely as you know that he would interpret everything himself.
hi can you please write a lelouch vi Britannia x reader like the reader is his loyal knight!
Code Geass ~With his loyal Knight~
Manga/anime: Code Geass
Warnings: nothing
Lelouch vi Britannia
At first he was very cold and detached with you, as he thought it should be normal: you were his Knight, who had the task of protecting him and dying for him, so in his opinion you were just a pawn on the chessboard he was the king of, and it was better not to get attached to you
Nevertheless, over time he began to appreciate you a lot; at first it was just noticing some aspects of you he really liked, then a constant looking at you and thinking only of you, finally a very strong desire to hug and kiss you, and then he understood: he had madly fallen in love with you
Ever since he confessed, a confession that took him something like six months to make, he always wants you next to him, so that you two can spend time together and he's able to protect you; indeed, his companions are no strangers to coming into his office and finding you sitting either next to him with your head on his shoulder or on his lap with his arms wrapped around you and his chin leaned on your shoulder (which, by the way, is one of the very few signs of affection he gives you)
He would really like you to stop being his Knight and fight too, but I don't think he'll ever force you to resign from your role with the Geass, rather I don't think he would ever use his power on you, both because he fears you'll find it out and might hate him due to it and because he's afraid of the possible consequences of his action if he loses control over it
Even if he's ready to sacrifice the lives of his companions and soldiers, as well as his own, it's not the same with you: you've become too precious to him, and he would do anything to save you and keep you safe, since over time you've gone from a simple pawn to the queen of his chessboard, and he, as king, has the duty to protect you, as there's no king without his queen
So Code Geass is my favorite anime together with Death Note, and it felt like a crime to not have written anything for it. Despite the fact that it's old, and there's probably no more need for it since the fandom is dead, I still wrote something for my boy. This takes place near the end of S2, so he's an adult in this.
Fandom: Code Geass
Pairing: Lelouch x Reader
Wordcount: 2027 words
Tags: mental spiraling, unfinished attempted blowjob, unsafe sex
Summary: The victory of the battle doesn't taste as sweet when he's already busy thinking about the next battle and the ones after that. You decide to take his mind off of it, and bring him back into the now.
Another day, another hard fought battle that ended in victory under Lelouch's leadership. You were inside of his Knightmare, having taken over from CC who was needed elsewhere. Looking up, you expected to see his signature self confident grin, elation maybe after such a well earned victory, but what met you was a scowl. You turned his way further and noticed he was miles away, muttering to himself, seemingly lost in replaying this battle. Every move, every mistake was put under intense scrutiny so that he could learn to do better next time, already 2 battles ahead of the curve. A sigh escaped you as you saw him like this. He had changed so much from the self confident, smug boy over the years. Loss and pressure had turned him into an anguished man, lonely at the top, never satisfied with his wins and ever hurting from his failures. You had known him for years, one of the only ones who knew who he was before all this, bound to secrecy like Milly. Unlike Milly you had become part of the rebels, when he had once miscalculated in his usage of his Geass on you. It was more for him than for the cause that you were here, hoping that you could be someone he could rely on; solid ground in the middle of rough seas filled with death, betrayal and loneliness.
You saw him retreat inside of himself right in front of you. Despite the victory he was in pain, for reasons not entirely unknown to you, and though there was very little you could do, a little plan formed in your mind of how you could take his mind of it, if only for a little bit.
"Lelouch," you said, climbing up from your seat at his feet. "Look at me."
He was brought back to the now, looking at you sharply. He hadn't noticed your position yet, but when you put your hand on his knee he realized how close you were, practically kneeling between his thighs.
"Y/N," he said, "That was a well-earned victory. You should celebrate with the others." It was obvious he tried to push you away, mentally and physically, trying not to notice your breath that was heating his skin under his tight pants.
"I want to celebrate with you." Your voice came out more sly and seductive than you could have hoped and your lips curled up in glee at the little bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed. His sharp purple eyes fell on you, and you smiled when you saw the realization quickly dawn in them. Would he allow you to cross the line between childhood friends and whatever this was?
"Oh, I see," he muttered, "And what kind of celebration did you have in mind then?"
Your fingers ran over the tight confines of his Zero costume, the spandex tight around his body, getting tighter still as your fingers ran over the outline of his dick. The little arch his back did made your lips curl up as your mouth watered, tongue peeking out to lick a long line over the outside of the fabric while a little shiver travelled up his body. He allowed you to.
"Here to make a mess, I see." he groaned, hand leaving the armrest to tangle in your hair, fingers twitching to push you down, but he held onto his control. For now. "Stop being a tease, y/n."
"What?" you replied, lips glued to his thighs and breath fanning over the growing bulge. "And here I thought you were such a patient, calculating man."
A humourless chuckle was all you got from him as you opened your mouth, opening wide over his clothed erection and leaning down. He choked out a gasp as his body shivered under your attention, wishing your tongue was touching him directly and trying to find the words to tell you so. But he was so far out of his depth - this wasn't exactly something he did daily. Rather, this was the first time, and he had no clue what he should or shouldn't say. So he kept quiet, hoping that you wouldn't tease him too much, and knew what you were doing without him telling you.
You hummed in appreciation as you felt him strain against the fabric under you. The spot was wet from your mouth and him, as you tasted the salt from his precum through his clothes.
"I need your help, Lulu," you murmured between licks, and you heard him struggle to respond, making you smile softly. "Help me take off your costume before I lose it."
He jolted into action, already reaching behind him for his zipper in uncharacteristic desperation. Your smile turned into a small chuckle that you hid behind your hand, not wanting him to feel like you were laughing at him, but he was just so... cute.
You clambered on top of his chair, legs on either side of him as you helped him with the zipper. Arms wrapped around him as your mouth now sought his'. Your hips were snug against him, slowly rutting against his swollen flesh as he gasped in your mouth, seeking your heat with equal desperation. It seemed all earlier thoughts of failure had already fled his mind and you smiled into the kiss, pulling his outfit off his shoulders. As you broke apart his pupils were blown, a small ring of purple the only thing showing the colour of his royal heritage. You leaned back, his hips following yours as you put space between you to drag his suit down his legs. He didn't wait until you had it all off to pull you back to him again.
"I need you," he said, and you chuckled back, pulling back once again.
"Patience, Zero. I know you have it in spades." You were planning to service him properly like the king he was, but at this point neither of you were sure if he did indeed have the patience. He was too desperate to be inside you to allow you to even undress yourself. His hands were pulling you into him as his lips sought yours. With a small clack of your tongue you removed his hands, pulling away from him to undress your bottom half. It wouldn't be long until the Knightmare you were in found its auto piloted way back to the group, and though you were ignoring any calls for now, you didn't have all the time in the world. The air around you grew increasingly heated as you brought your dripping core down to rub against him. His groan was swallowed as you kissed him again, your hips gyrating against his', slowly moving onto the main course.
He wasn't above begging, but he was much more used to commanding. It seemed he finally got himself back under control when he said: "Enough teasing. Sit up." His voice was low and husky with an edge of a growl to it and you melted, sitting up immediately. You could've sworn his geass activated for a second too, though it was useless since he'd already used it on you once. The added thrill of it all went straight to your core though.
His long fingers were digging into your hips as he urged you to take him in. "We don't have much time. It's time you finish what you started. Unless you've gotten cold feet now?"
The swollen head of his cock nudged against your clit, and a shiver went down your spine as your legs widened around him. Slight uncertainty shone through his words though, the fear of you actually stopping what you'd started for whatever reason.
"Absolutely not," you replied voice breathless as you moved to line him up with you. "I can't wait to have you inside of me." Your response was a twitch of his dick against you and a cocky smirk you couldn't wait to wipe from his face. He slipped in and you let yourself sink down to the hilt with a sigh, throwing your arms around him as you started bouncing almost immediately. Indeed his smirk was wiped from his face as his eyes closed in a frown at the feeling of being inside you. The chair under you bouncing with the both of you because of the heavy duty suspension needed for piloting a Knightmare, and you heard the squeaking of the springs over the sounds of skin hitting skin. His groans were heavenly, tumbling freely from his mouth as all earlier stress and bad thoughts left his body with every thrust into your delicious heat.
"Ah, Lulu, more," you moaned into his ear, sweat dripping down your back as you bounced on him like a woman possessed, chasing the orgasm that was building rapidly. A message beeped from behind you, someone trying to contact Zero to congratulate him after yet another victory, but it went ignored. Adding to the haste of the both of you chasing your orgasm, mindful of the time limit. You grabbed one of his hands that was digging into your hips, fingers sure to create bruises, and put it to work against your throbbing clit.
"There, please faster," you moaned against his neck as he started rubbing immediately. Your own hands dragging across his pale chest, catching on hardened nipples and making him groan deliciously into your ear. Hips twitching as he was nearing his end much faster than he hoped. His fingers picked up the pace, rubbing against your pearl with all the precision a desperate man possessed, but to his relief it worked. The chair under you shuddered with your movement as you came, throwing your head back with a loud wail, dragging Lelouch with you over the edge as he lacked the common sense to pull out. His dick twitching with you as hot spurts of cum painted your insides and leaked out onto the chair. He gasped out curse words as both of you came down, and the heat and humidity of the cabin became instantly noticeable to you.
The tell-tale beeps of the navigation notifying you that you arrival at your destination quickly brought the both of you back your post orgasm bliss.
"Turn on the aircon, quick," you wheezed out, still trying to catch your breath. You knew after every battle every Knightmare was looked after for any technical defects, and Zero's Knightmare would be no different. But with how much the cabin smelled like sex you hoped it would be last in line. With shaking hands you put on your uniform, helping Lelouch get back into his', before quickly moving back to your own seat. The cum leaking out of you creating a wet, sticky patch in your underwear that you both enjoyed and hated at the same time, hoping no one would notice it leaking though the fabric.
"You came inside," you noted, "What if I get pregnant with a little prince or princess?"
He scoffed, but a deep blush was on his face he quickly hid by putting on his mask. You were sure he was still sweaty as hell under that, but he looked fairly presentable. If you didn't look too closely on the now slightly dried, but still barely noticeable spot on his crotch.
"Didn't know where else to- it would make a mess- I, the Knightmare-," even with his helmet on he wasn't able to instantly adopt the Zero persona, still sputtering and stumbling over his words after what the two of you had done just now.
You chuckled at this. "Don't worry, I'm on birth control. But you really have to ask next time."
Mutedly you heard an inhale from him, followed by a barely audible "Next time!?", before the cabin finally opened, letting in fresh air and the sound of cheers from the Black Knights outside. As Zero stood up, finally back into character, he faltered one last time at a small observation. The stain on his chair that was at this point very obvious. He hoped the maintenance crew would overlook it, but knew there was little chance of that.
Oh, well, what could be done at this point? There were bigger things to worry about.
25 Days of Simpmas: Day Seven
December 7th: Lelouch Lamperouge, Rank 19
Anime: Code Geass
Event Masterlist
“Oh dear. That Zero. He truly is. A terrifying man. I sure hope. I don’t run. Into him.”
Your choppy, robotic commentary was the best you could contribute to the student council’s latest fearful rant about the masked man, Zero, but luckily no one aside from Lelouch had seemed to notice your insincerity.
He smirked to himself as he pretended to flip through paperwork, clearly amused by your awful acting.
It was fine that he’d taken notice. You’d meant that comment for your boyfriend anyway. Ever since you found out that you were dating the leader of the Black Knights, you couldn’t help but poke fun at the whole situation. When you didn’t want to go to class, you’d say to him, “Boy. I’m really not feeling math class today. Would be a shame if some… vigilante were to burn down the math wing today. Cancel classes. I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind.” When you were stuck in traffic, you’d sigh and say “Boy, I could really use a Knightmare right about now, just march through all the traffic. I wonder if I know anyone that has one.” Lelouch would chuckle to himself in the driver’s seat (because, of course, you were his passenger princess), and then he’d say something like, “And what if I was enjoying this alone time with you?”
He always enjoyed his time with you.
Sometimes he could even forget he had the weight of the world on his shoulders because you were his world and you made him feel weightless.
Sure, you teased him for being Zero, asked if the cape was really necessary or if he just liked being dramatic, asked how he could pilot a Knightmare when he could barely figure out the settings on the new TV, asked if he was really just cheating on you to go on dates with Suzaku and if so, could you join in? But at the end of the day, when all the joking and jesting subsided, more than being his alibi, you were his partner in crime, his ride or die, and you’d stay by his side until the end of time.
You’d do anything for him. And he’d do anything for you; he’d be anything for you. Every day that he was Zero was another day that he was building a better world for you to live in.
To some, Zero was a hero, a revolutionist, a symbol of hope; to others, Zero was a terrorist, an egoist, a power hungry maniac. To you, he was a reminder that somebody cared enough to be your sword, your shield, your suit of armor. And underneath that mask, he was still just a boy you were in love with, a boy who’d promised to come home to you each and every night, a boy who held himself to that promise more than he did anything else. He could be half dead, seeing stars, spitting blood, and he’d still stumble his way to your door.
You were always waiting at the door. Waiting to clean him up, to bandage his wounds, to tell him about your day, ask him about his, kiss him all better, cuddle him to sleep, fight off his demons with nothing more than your smile.
He kept a picture of your smiling face on him at all times, for just that reason. If he was going to die on some battlefield, somewhere far away from you, at least your smile could reach him, at least your smile could carry him to heaven when he more than deserved hell.
And when he got too wrapped up in his own thoughts, counting his sins, plotting his plagues, you were his guardian angel, pulling him from his purgatory.
You’d knock on his head lightly. “So serious. Must be some heavy planning going on in there. Save some brain cells for the rest of us.” Then you’d kiss his forehead over and over, massaging his temples with your thumbs, until he’d stopped thinking of anything but your touch.
Sometimes you’d try the cape on. Flounce around in it. Give dramatic bows. Do a little dance. And all his battery strategy would go out the window, laughter replacing it.
Sometimes he’d even have to reschedule his plans because you were so distracting. Of course, he’d have to come up with some brilliant excuse, because how else was he supposed to admit to the entirety of the Black Knights that he’d cancelled waging war on an enemy base just because his girlfriend refused to go watch a movie without him but today was the only day the movie was airing? He couldn’t very well tell them that the all-seeing, all-powerful Zero caved to her whims before she even stooped to begging. He couldn’t very well tell them that the mere thought of her pouting had him scooping her up in his arms and taking off with her, ready to fulfill her every fantasy. He couldn’t very well tell them that sometimes he considered quitting his little conquests just so he could have more time to make her breakfast in bed or play with her hair until she woke up.
Even the way you woke up was angelic.
The way you blinked the sleep from your eyes, searching for him, reaching for him, before you were even conscious enough to realize you were doing so. Then the way you smiled when you found him, wrapping your arms around him like you’d never let go again and snuggling into his chest like it was home. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve you. He’d not done nearly enough.
He often thought to himself that if judgement day ever came, if he was ever allowed a pardon for his many sins, he’d owe his redemption all to you. If he was ever soft, if he was ever kind, if he was ever good, it was because of you. If his hands were stained, you washed them clean. If his soul was darkened, you brought your light. If he was a devil, you were an angel.
And you were his saving grace.
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