Ugh! Need something sweet and sleepy with nero! I know you don't write smut, girlie I am with u it's so hard too! But I did read your makeout sesh with nero and that was literally the perfect amount of a little spice, so cute. Effing loved it!! But what about something with nero coming home from working with dante and nico, hes sleepy n he's missed you and he's just a bit needy? Ugh!
the door doesn’t so much open as stumble inward, its old hinges whining against the sudden weight.
nero’s voice follows right after, low and muttered, a string of curses that sound more worn-out than angry. his coat hangs half off his shoulder, devil bringer glinting in the lamplight like some half-shuttered star, and his hair’s a mess from wind and smoke and whatever else dante’s dragged him through tonight.
“hey,” he breathes out when his eyes find you, and it’s not the casual kind of greeting he throws around. it’s weighted, thick, like the word itself had been the thing pulling him home.
he kicks his boots off clumsily—one nearly topples the umbrella stand—and shrugs the rest of his coat down with a graceless tug. he looks smaller without it, or maybe it’s just the way fatigue has folded him into himself. dark circles stain under his eyes, and there’s dust at the collar of his shirt.
“long day?” you murmur.
nero huffs a laugh, short and tired. “you have no idea. dante’s idea of a ‘quick job’ turned into six hours of babysitting his dumb ass and then nico wanted to test a new upgrade and—” he cuts himself off with a wave of his flesh hand, as though the details don’t matter anymore. “point is, i’m wrecked.”
but even wrecked, he doesn’t head for the couch. he comes straight to you. his steps are heavy, dragging, and yet there’s something intent about them. like the moment he saw you, every muscle remembered what it wanted.
when he finally sinks down beside you, it’s not gentle. it’s the drop of a man who’s spent every last ounce of fight. his head finds your shoulder, heavy and warm, and the sigh that leaves him trembles with relief; his breath spilling warm against your collarbone.
“missed you,” he mumbles, words quiet but honest, searing all the same.
his hand—his real one—finds your waist. the touch is loose at first, almost hesitant, but then he grips tighter, pulling you flush against him. the shift presses his thigh to yours, the solid weight of his body crowding close.
you thread your fingers through his hair, and the sound that leaves him—a groan, low and raw—isn’t entirely innocent.
“don’t move,” he breathes, almost desperate. his devil bringer rests cold and heavy on your thigh, but his body is all heat, everywhere he touches.
he noses along your jaw, lazy, unhurried, until his mouth brushes the tender spot beneath your ear. a kiss—barely there, lips soft, almost testing. but when you shiver, he huffs a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.
“forgot how good you smell,” he murmurs, lips grazing your skin again, lingering longer this time. “been driving me nuts all night.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide. “kiss me?”
the words aren’t cocky. they’re thick, rough with need, the kind that makes your pulse stumble.
when you lean in, he meets you halfway. the kiss is hungry in its softness—his mouth hot and insistent, teeth catching lightly on your lower lip before he breathes you in like it’s the first real air he’s had all day.
his hand slides higher along your waist, thumb brushing the edge of your ribs, and his devil bringer tightens faintly on your thigh—not crushing, but firm, grounding.
“god, i missed this,” he mutters against your mouth, the words breaking between kisses. each one grows lazier, deeper, until he’s half-slumped against you, greedy for every press of lips, every exhale you give him.
when he finally pulls back, it’s only because his head drops to your shoulder again, breath hot and uneven. “should probably let you go,” he says, voice muffled into your shirt, though the curl of his mouth betrays him. “’m tired, but,” he hums. “still kinda want you all to myself right now.”
he peppers your collarbone with featherlight kisses, unhurried, half-asleep, and you realize this is what nero is when he’s stripped down to nothing but want:, clinging, unwilling to let go.
unadulterated adoration.
