Yuritober Day 2! • Yuritober Calendar • Comment to Be Added to The Taglist for This Event!~ • #yuritober for the other days!~
♡ Simone x F!MC (Reader), ≈ 3.2k words ♡
summary: You (f!reader) and Simone have been assigned a mission, given an exorbitant budget, and have been told your cover: newlyweds. your job? gather intel at an esteemed "charity" gala in the n109 zone. the closeness required blurs everything as the mission progresses and your cover and the tension between you all blend together.
cw/tags: fake couple trope, simone x mc!reader, wlw, yuri, tension, flirting, kissing, suggestive makeout/stripping, no smut in this one~
bunnie's notes: the dress reader wears is this one from the Born to Dazzle Jimmy Choo Collab Event
The boutique is far too fancy for your usual liking. Your everyday requires much more practicality than what you see on display. Simone seems to feel the same, judging by her dramatic sigh when you walk up to the door..
“Captain Jenna says I’m not allowed to make any modifications, so I guess whatever we pick needs to fit the part. You ready, wife of mine?” She smirks, opening the jingling door with a chivalrous tip of her head.
The air inside smells like fabric and sweet perfume, everything is bright—light wood and white mannequins, racks and display cases with extravagant fashions donning them. You can’t believe the Association is covering this, but this mission is a one in a million opportunity to get priceless intel. You found it a little odd when Captain Jenna told you that your partner for this mission would be Simone, but she insisted that the two of you together were the only hunters that she could imagine being able to pull this off.
And so, here you are, out of your element with the Association credit card burning a hole in your purse. You both dressed nicely, but now that you are here, you start to feel like it’s not nice enough.
Oh well. That’s what this is for isn’t it? To get something to really fit the part, like Simone just said.
An impeccably and professionally dressed consultant walks over to the two of you gracefully, asking how she can help you. Simone takes the lead, smooth like butter.
“Yes, my partner and I are looking for formal wear for a Gala Event. It will be our first as a couple, we’d like to be appropriately dressed, but not too flashy. Class is important to us both, of course.”
The consultant presses her fingers together with glee, “Oh wonderful! Right this way!”
As the woman’s heels click in front of you Simone’s hand slips to the small of your back, making you jump. Her breath comes against your ear as she whispers, “Come on babe, try not to jump out of your skin every time we touch, or we won’t fool a soul, okay?”
A flush creeps up your neck. “Right, sorry.” you mutter, trying to blink away the feeling you suddenly have.
Once you get to the private room, the consultant pulls a few dresses off of the rack. You try each on with Simone sitting in a chair with her legs crossed, calmly calling out her opinions on every one. Too red, boxy, we want to blend in not bore, can you even move on that?
The consultant brings another selection, her smile becoming slightly strained. This time, Simone gets up and walks along the rack with her, her sharp eyes scanning. She stops and pulls out a single dress, holding it up with a critical hum.
"Try this one."
The consultant opens her mouth, likely to suggest accessories, but Simone smoothly interjects. "Could you give us a moment? I'd like my wife's opinion without any outside influence."
With a polite, if slightly reluctant, nod, the consultant slips out of the room.
Once you're alone, Simone turns to you, the dress draped over her arm. The fabric is a silvery blue, catching the light with a subtle shimmer. It's short, strapless, and adorned with asymmetric layers of fabric, tiny sparkles embroidered throughout like scattered stardust.
“This one looks pretty.” She holds it up against you. “Selfishly… I need to see how hot this would look on you.”
The dressing room curtain whispers shut behind you, leaving you alone with the silvery-blue fabric. Slipping into it is easier than you expected. The material is cool and surprisingly soft against your skin, the structured bodice hugging your form perfectly. You smooth your hands down the skirt’s asymmetric layers, watching the tiny embroidered sparkles glitter in the light. It’s beautiful.
You turn to check your reflection, reaching back for the zipper. Your fingers fumble, brushing against the fabric but finding no purchase. The zipper is small, discreet, and nestled just out of your comfortable reach. You twist and strain, but it’s no use. A sliver of your back remains exposed, the zipper stuck just past the curve of your spine.
A soft knock on the door frame makes you jump. “Need a hand in there?” Simone’s voice is low, just on the other side of the curtain.
You hesitate for a second before admitting defeat. “The zipper. I can’t… it’s stuck.”
The curtain parts just enough for her to slip inside. The space, designed for one, suddenly feels intimate and too warm. She turns you gently by the shoulders so your back is to her, her presence solid and close behind you.
“Let’s see,” she murmurs.
Her fingers are deft and sure as they find the tiny metal pull. The back of her hand brushes against your bare skin, sending a jolt of awareness straight up your spine. You hold your breath, staring straight ahead at your own wide-eyed reflection in the mirror.
She works quietly, with a technician’s focused precision. There’s no struggle, just a slight, careful adjustment. The faint, grating sound of the zipper teeth closing is deafening in the quiet room. It glides up smoothly, sealing the dress shut.
But her hands don’t immediately leave. One stays, her palm resting flat against the now-covered zipper, right between your shoulder blades. It’s a steady, warm weight. Her other hand comes to rest on your waist, turning you back around to face her.
The air leaves your lungs in a soft, shaky exhale.
Simone doesn’t step back. Her gaze is intense, cataloging every detail of the dress, and of you in it. Her eyes travel from the strapless neckline, down the fitted bodice, to the short, playful skirt. The analytical glint is there, but it’s softened by something warmer, more appreciative.
“I was right,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. It’s devoid of its usual teasing lilt, leaving only stark honesty. “It’s more than pretty. It looks like it was made for you.”
Her hand slides from your back, her fingers trailing a whisper-light path down your arm until she finds your hand. She laces her fingers with yours, her grip firm. You think she may kiss you.
“Come on. Let’s go show our consultant. Let’s make sure we look the part.”
Simone gets a matching suit in the same shade, along with a stunning watch. You get some bracelets, Cinderella heels, and sparkling star shaped diamond earrings. As you're leaving the tension has dissipated… mostly…
The cool evening air of Linkon City feels like a shock to your system after the perfumed haze of the boutique. The fancy shopping bag in your hand swings lightly, a constant reminder of the dress... and what happened in the dressing room.
Simone walks beside you, her hands tucked into the pockets of her new, impeccably tailored suit jacket. The tension hasn't vanished; it’s just changed form, settling into a low, humming awareness that hangs between you with every step.
“Mission debrief, part one,” she announces, her voice cutting through the city’s ambient noise. She’s back to business, but her tone is a fraction softer than before. “The apparel acquisition is a success. We look the part.” She glances over at you, a sly grin playing on her lips. “Correction: You look the part. I look good, but you? You’re the star of this show, Mrs. Zhao.”
The name sends another unfamiliar thrill through you. “We haven’t started yet,” you remind her, your voice a little breathless.
“Practice makes perfect,” she counters without missing a beat. “We need to be seamless. So, let’s practice.” She stops walking, turning to face you fully under the glow of a streetlamp. “The story is we met at a tech symposium. I was presenting a paper on adaptive fabrics...polymers... it was totally boring to most... but you,” she says, her eyes locking with yours, “you said you were fascinated by the intersection of material science and historical craftsmanship. You saw the art in my maths.”
She’s building your cover, brick by brick, weaving a shared history out of thin air, and her focus makes it feel... real.
“And I,” she continues, taking a small step closer, “was fascinated by the historian who understood that technology is just another kind of history. Our first date was at that terrible cafe by the university library. You complained about the coffee for a full ten minutes.”
A laugh bubbles out of you, unexpected and genuine. “It was burnt! I'd drank better cups from a Keurig!”
“It was awful,” she agrees, her smile reaching her eyes this time, making them crinkle at the corners, ponytail swinging with the breeze. “But you still stayed for two hours.” She offers you her arm. “Ready to go home, my love?”
You slip your hand into the crook of her elbow, feeling the fine wool of her suit jacket under your fingers.
“Lead the way, beautiful.”
The night of the gala arrives too quickly. Standing before the full-length mirror in your apartment, you barely recognize yourself. The silvery-blue dress seems to capture and hold the light, the star-shaped diamonds at your ears winking back at your reflection. The Cinderella heels add a dangerous, elegant height.
A knock at your door is followed by Simone letting herself in. “Ready to— Oh. My. God”
She stops dead in the doorway. Her gaze is heavy, sweeping over you from head to toe and back again, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She’s in her matching suit, a masterpiece of tailoring that highlights her lean frame and subtle curves. The silver watch glints at her wrist.
For a long moment, she says nothing. The air in the room grows thick and warm.
“Well?” you finally ask, your voice unsteady.
She closes the distance between you slowly, each step measured. She stops just inches away, her eyes dark and utterly captivated.
“I was wrong in the boutique,” she says, her voice low and rough around the edges. “This isn’t just ‘looking the part’.” Her hand rises to hover just beside your cheek. “You’re going to ruin the mission. No one is going to be looking at the prototype. They’re only going to be looking at you.”
Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic, shaky rhythm. You can’t look away from her. This has to be part of the act, the final layer of preparation. But it feels real.
She offers her arm. “Shall we?”
The ballroom at the Solon Hotel is a whirl of glittering red and purple light, soft music, and the murmur of elegant conversation. Simone’s hand finds the small of your back the moment you step inside. You don’t jump this time, but instead, you lean into it.
You move through the crowd as a unit. She points out a potential contact with a subtle nod, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers a name from the dossier. You smile and play your part, making small talk about art and culture, all while your senses are hyper-aware of the woman at your side.
After a while, she guides you onto the dance floor. Her hand slides from your back to take your hand, her other arm wrapping firmly around your waist, pulling you close.
“We should sell the part,” she murmurs, her voice a low vibration you feel through your entire body.
Your bodies sway together to the music, a slow, intimate rhythm. The world narrows to the space you share. The lights, the music, the mission—it all blurs into a distant haze. All you can see is her. All you can feel is the solid warmth of her, the scent of her perfume, the intensity of her gaze.
Her usual bluntness is gone, real soft, wondering tone. “You know,” she says, her breath ghosting across your skin, “for a historian, you’re surprisingly light on your feet.”
Her hand tightens on yours.
“And for a wife…” She leans in, her forehead nearly touching yours. The noise of the gala fades into nothing. “You’re… devastatingly convincing.”
Your pulse is a wild, runaway beat as your breath catches, shaky and thin. This can’t just be acting. Not with the way she’s looking at you—like you’re the only person in the entire universe. The analysis is burned away by a heat that feels terrifyingly genuine.
The line between the mission and reality shatters.
You don’t know who closes the final, miniscule distance.
All you know is that her lips find yours.
And for one, infinite second, there is no mission. There is no Hunter Association. There is no pretense.
There is only Simone, the taste of her, the feel of her, her lips on yours.
The kiss breaks as suddenly as it began, a gasp of shared air in the space between you. The roar of the gala comes crashing back—the music, the laughter, the clinking glasses. Her eyes are wide, the same stunned realization you felt reflected in their depths.
For a second, she lookes... imbalanced, with T=the most un-Simone-like expression you'd ever seen. Then, like a book slamming shut, the analytical look returns, but fractured and unsure.
"I..." she starts, her voice uncharacteristically rough. She cleared her throat. "The target. He's... he's by the west pillar. We should... proceed.”
The night after somehow goes smoothly. You and Simone are stunners, you command but not too much, and you pull off your respective roles like they're first nature. All the intel you need is collected flawlessly, and when it's time to leave, you and Simone call your company cab, her hand still in your clammy one. As you stand on the street waiting, Simone leans in close.
“I think I want you to come home with me, would you like that?”
You nod breathlessly. “That’s all I want right now.”
The ride is smooth and quiet, Linkon going by through the windows in a hazy blur of cars and lights. You and Simone don't touch but you have to count your breaths just to be some semblance of normal. She grabs your hand when you both get out the ride and you practically fall forward with the way she pulls on your hand.
She doesn’t slow down, leading you through the lobby of her building, her grip tight and certain. The elevator doors slide shut, sealing you in a sterile, silent box. The second they close, she turns.
Her hands come up to frame your face, her thumbs stroking your cheekbones. Her eyes search yours, the look in them stripping away the last of the gala, the mission, the world outside. There’s only a hungry, waiting certainty in her eyes.
You close the space. Your mouth meets hers.
The first touch is soft, a testing brush. Then the quiet shatters. Her arms lock around your waist, crushing you against her suit jacket. Your hands fly up, tangling in the sleek silk of her ponytail, pulling the dark hair loose. A soft sound escapes her throat, a gasp that you swallow, and the kiss deepens, turning desperate.
It’s all heat and rushing blood. Her lips are insistent, moving against yours with a focused passion that leaves you dizzy. She smells like vanilla and spice. She tastes of night air and the faint, crisp sweetness of champagne. One of her hands slides from your back, down over the silvery fabric of your dress, gripping your hip to pull you closer still. There is no space left between you.
The elevator dings, a distant, irrelevant sound. She breaks the kiss, both of you breathing in ragged, shared gasps. Her forehead rests against yours, her eyes closed. Her lips are swollen, red lip smeared.
“My floor,” she murmurs, the words a rough vibration against your mouth.
She guides you backwards out of the elevator without letting you go, her mouth finding yours again the moment you’re clear of the doors. You stumble down the hall, a clumsy, connected movement, grasping hands and never-breaking kisses. She fumbles with a keycard, her eyes locked on you, then pushes a door open.
You cross the threshold into the dimness of her apartment. The door clicks shut, and she presses you against it, her body a solid, warm line against yours. The city lights from the window stripe across her face, across the fierce, wondrous expression she wears as she looks at you.
“Okay?” she breathes against your lips, her voice husky and raw.
"Simone..."
"You are so hot... so beautiful, I am so glad this mission went well... I thought I'd lose it..."
Her hands are everywhere—speaking her name into your skin, leaving trails of fire down your arms, your back, over the silvery fabric of the dress.
“This dress,” she breathes, her fingers finding the small, discreet zipper she’d fixed hours before. “It served its purpose. It made everyone in that room see what I saw. But now…”
The sound of the zipper parting is deafening in the quiet of her apartment. It’s not the careful, technical motion from the boutique; this is a single, deliberate pull. The structured bodice loosens, and a rush of cool air hits your exposed skin, making you shiver.
“...Now it’s in my way,” she finishes, her voice dark with want.
she leans back in, capturing your mouth in a deep, languid kiss that feels like a reward. Her hands slide inside the open back of the gown, her palms warm and sure against your bare shoulder blades, pressing you flush against her. The contrast of her crisp suit jacket against your sensitive skin is maddening.
“Let me see you,” she murmurs, her kisses trailing from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat. “All of you.”
With a gentle movement of her hands, she coaxes the dress from your shoulders. It slinks down your body, a shimmering pool of silver and stardust at your feet, leaving you standing in nothing but your heels, lace panties, and the winking diamond stars at your ears.
The look on her face is one of pure, unguarded worship. Her gaze is a physical caress, hotter than any touch.
“Even better than I imagined,” she whispers, her knuckles brushing softly over your collarbone, then lower...
"You next?" You breathe, heart threatening to escape if it beat any faster, or any harder.
With a few efficient, practiced movements, she shrugs off her suit jacket, letting it fall carelessly to the floor atop your discarded dress. Her waistcoat is next, followed by the quick, sharp unfastening of her watch. She never breaks eye contact, her expression focused, fierce, and captivating. She seems so dominant and sure, it almost shakes you to your core. It definitely does something between your legs.
She closes the distance again, her hands finding the bare skin of your waist. “Yeah. My turn,” she says, and leads you toward the bedroom, a tangle of eager hands and stumbling, connected steps, leaving the final remnants of the mission behind you on the floor.
For all my girl kissers, Simone × Reader is officially in the drafts. It will take some time because I'm creating their back stories, families and additional dynamics, but I hope with this you can forgive me for not being productive during June.
For the current works, I'm finishing a Rafayel One-shot of Banquet Ablaze which will be published some day!
I have way too many ideas but for long-chapter fics, I also have a Author! Reader × Sylus which I would like to explore, along with a Herbalist! Reader × Sea God! Rafayel.
content tags: friends with benefits, hand & mouth stuff, unprotected sex, biting
synopsis: ever since you returned from the n109 zone you've been different. no one has noticed-- well, you thought no one noticed but simone did. she always notices the little things when it comes to you. outside of tech, you're the only thing that can hold her attention.
before reading, I'd like to remind you that I have a ko-fi! consider giving me a tip or sending me a scenario through my inbox. thanks in advance!
HER TOUCH
buzzzzzz.
you listen to the electronic vibration of the doorbell travel through the room beyond. the hall is mostly empty, a few kids running around. they must be on their summer break from school and wringing the joy from every last second of it. inside, a few clicks as latches are thrown back, something beeps and the door swings open. for a moment, you stand there stupidly, holding the strap of your bag in your hands–no one is on the other side. the grey-black monotone of the room beyond is all that welcomes you.
“ hey! just come in! “ simone’s voice sounds from somewhere above you. your eyes lift to the small fisheye of a camera lens above the doorway, a little speaker attached to it from which the woman’s voice eminates. you give a sheepish nod of your head. despite how long you and simone have been friends, this will be your first time visiting her place. usually she and tara come around yours. tara has a roommate and are far as you know, no one has ever seen simone’s place.
once you step inside, the door automatically shuts and locks behind you. you smile, a little impressed by how high tech her place is. it makes sense and really, you should have figured it would be like this, but still, you marvel around the room. clusters of wires, spools of colored strands, plastic bags with small bits and bobs inside. there is a… something on the counter island of the kitchen. there is parts of what seems to be a weapon, something similar to the staff you use when fighting wanderers but it is split down the center and its electronic guts hang out in a jumble. there is a pile of small circut boards and beside it, a soldering iron from which, a lazy streamer of smoke is rising from. you grimace a bit, reach over and unplug the device. simone can sometimes leave things around like this. she is a genius but like all geniuses she suffers from a constantly roaming mind which carries her from one project to the other at the speed of light.
“ sorry, was a bit tied up in my office. “ the woman appears from behind a closed door. this one too, slowly swings shut as she walks away from it. “ did you bring it? “
“ yep. right here in my bag. “ you shift the bag from your shoulder. she comes to stop at your side and begins moving the staff to one side. “ is that for me? “ a smile pinches one side of your mouth.
“ not everything i make is for you, you know. “ she chides, delicate fingers gathering the smallest fragments of copper wiring. “ just because you’re one of my best friends doesn’t mean you’re my only client. “
“ oh? “ you halt your movement, grasping your hand to your chest as if hurt by the sentiment. “ i can’t believe this. i’m hurt, simone. i thought you loved only me. “
she blushes a bit, drops her eyes to the hand spawled across your collar bones.
“ i like you. “ it is an earnestness you weren’t prepared for and for a moment, you reconsider the joke. your smile falters a little. she notices, small eyes brightening. “ but – oh, i didn’t… i mean, this is yours. or it will be. “ a swish of her ponytail as she looks back at the staff. “ when i’m done with it, and i’m nowhere near done yet. “
“ oh, ok. “ you note a slight softness in your voice. you give a little nod of your head and tuck a strand of your fringe back behind your ears. the awkward silence hangs on your shoulders like a wet, woolen blanket. heavy and uncomfortable. your breath is the only thing you can hear aside from the multitude of technology buzzing and cooling itself around the apartment. “ so, my firearm? “
“ yes! “ she jumps at the offered change of subject. “ just set it here and tell me again what happened? “
“ it wasn’t anything weird. “ you set your bag down and pull out your sidearm. at first glance the weapon seems fine. the dark grey of the metal has a few scuff marks, as is to be expected when in use almost daily. the handgrip is a pliable rubber with hatchmarks to keep from slipping around against your palm. the muzzle is clean, again, some notches from the claws and teeth of various nasties which have gotten too close for comfort. all that is to be expected from a seasoned hunter like you. the real issue lay at the slide, just beside the ejection port. you tap your finger at the center of the damage. “ we were fighting wanders over in the dissociation zone. those damn mysts, they like to blend in with the swamp gas in the bog. you know the one i’m talking about? “
“ never been there myself. “ she corrects you. “ but i’ve seen damage like this before. should be glad it was your weapon and not you. “ she lifts the weapon and inspects it, turning it over in her hands. she handles it carefully, away of the nature of the thing. there is a corrsive burn pattern along the slide. “ are the shells still in there? “
you nod.
“ hmmm… “ she sets it down and turns to leave. she returns shortly afterwards with a repair kit, pulls a chair out from under the counter and begins working on the repair. for a few minutes, you stand there, looking around. news crawls along the glass of one window and you read it while she works. there was a mugging near the shopping district. some entrepenuer wants to clear out one of the no-hunt zones to put up a set of new apartment buildings. the murder rates have gone up along the boarder of the n109 zone– that part sticks with you. read eyes form from nothing in your mind and you make a little, disgruntled noise. simone perks up, looks toward you then follows your gaze. she must have just caught the last few words of the n109 zone report. “ do you want to talk about it? “
your jaw drops open a little. you’ve been avoiding the topic. no one has really asked you what happened during your time gone. tara has been busy with a new boyfriend and jenna never cared about anything you did outside of work. xavier noticed you gone because he had to pick up the slack of being a single man doing a two-man job but he respected your privacy and would wait for you to bring it up, which, you didn’t. it had been nothing but more questions collecting like stones in your gut. the turmoil must be on your face because simone has stopped fiddling with your weapon and is watching you, dark eyes scrutinizing your features. you need to say something.
“ it was nothing. “ simone’s face twists up. she doesn’t believe you. “ really. “ she continues to bore into you. your shoulders slump and you drop your hands onto the cool surface of the countertop. “ ok, it was a lot. but i’m not sure i want to talk about it. “
“ well i’m not going to push you for it but keeing secrets in is bad for your health. “ she drops her attention back to the weapon in her hand.
you think about it for a moment, looking at the pointalist reflection staring back up at you from the metal countertop. before you can stop yourself, it is all pouring out. the shady guy outside your home, the loss of grandma and caleb, the secrets that have come out since then, a connection to something from your past, the idea that you might be a bomb ready to go off like sylus had hinted, the core in your heart. it all comes out of you in a cathartic rush. once it starts you can’t stop it. you keep talking and talking and simone listens while you purge all the secrets you’ve had festering in your throat for the last couple months. but you notice she stops fiddling with the slide of your weapon when you begin talking about the core implanted in your heart.
“ wow… i knew somehing was different. i could tell you had changed since you came back but i didn’t realize… wow. “ her stunned silence has you reconsidering. maybe you shouldn’t have told her anything. this was a bad idea.
“ never, nevermind. sorry, you know what forget it. “ you put on a smile. “ forget i said all that. “
“ how could i forget it? i’ve got so many questions! “
“ no, it was stupid. i shouldn’t have told you. there are bad people out there looking for me, for this core. “ you place your right hand over your heart. “ i’ve put you in danger. that was stupid of me, just forget it. “ you lift your bag off the table and prepare to leave. simone places her hand over yours, stopping you from pulling away. her grip is surprisingly strong for someone used to such delicate work.
“ let me decide if i’m in danger or not. “ she states, resolutely. “ if being here for you puts me in danger than i’ll chose to be in danger every time. “
“ no. simone you don’t understand, there are very scary people after me. “
“ i don’t care. “ she brings her other hand over and places it under yours, trapping your hand between hers.
“ like, scary-scary simone. like the leader of onychinus trying to force me to resonate with him because he believes i’m someone i’m not. that i’m capable of… “ you stop yourself shy of saying it. saying it would make it too real. you swallow the hard knot in your throat, however your warning seems to have gotten through to her. she blanches slightly. eveyrone knows sylus’ reputation.
“ i, “ her thin brows draw together slightly as she reconsiders her stand. “ no, i don’t care. you’re my friend. i would stand beside you even if he was here right now. “
she looks up at you from her chair and as you gaze into her dark eyes, there is resolution there. simone is not a fighter, not like you. you doubt that she would be able to stand up against half the enemies you’ve walked away from without breaking a sweat, but there is a glimmer of loyalty within her eyes that makes you believe she is stalwart in her declaration. a tightness in your chest spurs you into action and you lean down and kiss her. it happens without thought, pure instinct driving you to press your lips to hers, an inability to put into words how much you appreciate her commitment to you, as a friend. and then you come to your senses. this isn’t how friends are supposed to express gratitude. you blink a few times and pull away, straightening your back. she is still holding your hand.
“ sorry. “ you lick your llips. the waxy remnants of some kind of gloss which is not yours is there. “ simone i, “ you offer up.
a loud scraping noise startles you. it is the feet of her stool dragging along the tile floor as she uses her knee to move it out from under her to stand. once she’s on her feet she is closer to eye level with you, still, she has to rock onto her tiptoes to return a kiss to you. it takes you by surprise. you had been caught up in the moment, expecting her to be taken off guard. you didn’t think she’d react with outrage but simone has always been very blunt and you would never have guessed she would kiss you back. she releases your captured hand and brings her palms under your jawline, cupping your face as she continues to kiss you. her hands are cool against your hot cheeks.
you pull your head back. your hands hover to either side of her, not sure where to put them.
“ did you not want me to kiss you back? “ she inquires.
“ no. “ you’re quick to answer.
“ oh. “ she unhooks from you, taking a small step back. “ i’m dissappioted. “ she announces.
“ you are? “you cant your head slightly. she nods. “ because? “
“ it seems very obvious to me but i must’ve misread the situation. i apologize. “ she straightens out her shirt a little and turns back to the counter, puling her stool back toward herself. she stops seems to consider something, then turns back to you. “ you didn’t know that i’m attracted to you? “
“ i, what? “ it catches you completely blindsided.
“ i’ve always found you very attractive and would be very interested in having a sexual or romantic relationship with you. i’ve been fascinated with you since you joined the hunter’s association and we began working together. finding out you have an aethercore in your heart is even more interesting. “ her eyes drop from your face to your chest.
“ simone, that’s… very nice to hear but i, i can’t be in a relationship right now. it is a really bad time. “
“ is that the only reason you’d say no to me? “ she turns around to face you. “ it isn’t that you don’t like me? “
you hadn’t really considered it until this moment. there has been a few people to catch your eye and in general, you didn’t like to date in your friend pool. if things go bad, you lose both a partner and a friend. the loss would be almost too much to bear right now. you’ve had your fill of loss lately.
“ is it because i’m a woman? “ she poses. you shake your head no. no, you don’t think that is a problem at all. she is very pretty and you can’t deny that your heart went all aflutter when she kissed you back. “ then it is purely a sitational issue currently? “ you nod again.
“ dating is messy and i can’t committ to anyone right now. “
“ then what about our friendship? “
“ i really care about staying friends, simone. you’re so important to me. “
“ we could stay friends while maintaining a casual sexual relationship. “
“ you don’t have to say it like a robot, simone. “ you sigh slightly. her blunt way of speaking sometimes can come off little robotic. “ you’re suggesting we be friends with benefits? “
“ exactly. “ she beams. “ yes, that is what i’m saying. we stay friends but we do that too. kissing. i liked that. “
you consider it for a moment, trying to think your way out of the situation without hurting anyone’s feelings but your body tingles with the idea of it. what would it be like? you’ve watched her while she’s worked, watched her hands and the concentration on her face. what would it feel like to have those hands on you? in you? the question sends a warm pulse though your entire body. curiosity thrums in your throat and along your spine.
“ just kissing? “ a smirk fights to spread across your mouth.
“ kissing and more. “
“ more? “ you provoc her to elborate, taking a small step closer to her. she mirrors your action, meeting you halfway across the space between you.
“ yes. i’d like to put my mouth on other places of your body. “ she lifts her hand to the collar of your shirt. the blouse has a row of buttons down the front, a light linen to help combat the summer heat. the first two buttons are already undone. she feeds the third button down through the corresponding hole. then the forth. “ like here. “ she leans forward, naturally shorter than you, to press a kiss at the top of your sternum. another button. another. the center portion of your bra is now exposed and she places her lips to your breastbone, hot exhale slipping around the cups of your bra and warming your nipples. you can feel them respond, hardening against the inner fabric, pushing outward in excitement. a shuddering breath escapes you.
you realize you’ve been holding the strap of your bag. you let it go. it drops to the floor as you reach for the bottom of your blouse and undo them going upwards until your hands meet hers. she intertwines her fingers in yours, guiding them to your sides as she bites at the fabric of your bra, tugging it, shifting it until your breast is exposed. the cool air hits it for only a moment, sending a chill down your back before her hot mouth is there, suckling, nibbling. front teeth applying just enough pressure to make you gasp slightly and lull your head back you feel your lower body begin to hum. you stare at the ceiling, the track lighting above blurring between your eyelashes as she continues to suck a your left breast. you squeeze her hand as she applies pressure then she returns the gesture.
simone untangles one hand from yours and slips her hand up your back, finding the clasp of your bra and quicker than any man has ever done it,is pulling it free as you shrug off your shirt. it lands in a whisper at your feet. your hands, now free, begin to lift the hem of her shirt. she assists you, pulling it up over her head and then you’re both undoing her bra. once she’s topless, you run your hand over her breast, stroking the curve of one, pinching her nipple between your fingers before doing as she did. the rubbery nipple between your teeth, in your mouth. you curl your tongue around it, sucking on it and she moans your name. all the while, she is running her fingers through your hair, down your bare back, slipping them into the waistband of your trousers. her fingers follow the circle of your waistband until she finds the button and zipper, undoing them between hiccuped breaths.
as she starts to do so, she pulls you forward, directing you towards the living space. there is a couch there, very simple but plush. she tugs you along before stepping back and holding out he hand. you place your hand in her upward palm. she directs you over to the couch. you lower yourself down onto the cushions and she leans forward, hovering over you, kissing you before kneeling down between your knees. small, strong fingers tug at your trousers, puling them down over your hips, leaving behind your underwear. down your thighs, your knees, off your feet. simone tosses them over the back of the couch and places her hands on your exposed thighs.
“ i’ve always wanted to see you like this. “ she runs her fingers, light as a feather, over your thighs, admiring the definition of the muscles there. “ a hunter like you is in pique physical condition. you should be proud of your body. it is beautiful. “ she leans forward and kisses your inner thigh, just above the knee. she moves to the same pace on the other leg. then another kiss a little higher. repeated on the other leg. again, pushing your thighs apart slightly, making room for her to work. her hair tickles and you giggle a little. every movement sends a pulse through your pussy, her closing in slowly has you leaning forward, desperate for her to press her mouth to your cunt. you can feel yourself getting wet, a pearl of slick dampens your panties just as simone reaches the inner band of fabric.
her breath is hot against you and groan with desire. she hooks her thumbs under the strings of your g-string and pulls them down to your ankles, off and those too, are thrown aside. she marvels are your pretty cunt, the little hairs glistening with diamonds of moisture. you’ve been keeping yourself trimmed as part of your normal shower routine but you’ve not had a need to go beyond that. your schedule is so busy you never have time for waxing. simone doesn’t hesitate, she slips an elbow under each of your knees, hoisting your thighs onto her shoulders. you sink down into the couch, surprised by her strength. that stunned silence is broken the moment her mouth is against your sensitive slit. her tongue runs the length of it. upward, gone, back again. upward, gone, back again. simone laps at your pussy and every time the tip of her tongue graces your swollen clit, you feel your entire body recoil involuntarily, followed by a wanton whine. you want more as you white-knuckle the couch cushions.
each reputation, simone sends her tongue a little deeper into your weeping cunt. you feel as if your gushing, between what your own body is producing and her saliva. you glance down between your legs and see that each time her head bobs upward, she looks at you. she brings a hand up and begins fondling one of your tits, squeezing softly at first, then as her tongue brushes against your clit, she pinches your nipple hard. it sends your nervous system into overload, pain and pleasure a confusing mixture. you shiver and pant. it feels so good.
“ simone… “ her name escapes you between breaths. you feel her tongue probe into your hole, she must taste you so strongly there. lewd noises escape you as your rock your hips back and grind down on her tongue. wanting it deeper inside you. upwards she slides, a pinch to your nipple. she sucks at your clit and you cum suddenly, a shuddering moan echoing around the room. she released your tit and drags her hand down the front of you, leaving a wake of red marks as her short nails scratch your skin. she lowers you back down onto the couch, shifting the angle slightly, but she continues to lick and suck at your pussy. then, very slowly, you feel her ease two fingers into your hole. “ oh my g–“ your words devolve into a throaty moan.
those beautiful fingers, the same ones you watched with such interest, slipping into your soaking wet hole. then press in, deeper than you could ever do on your own, before they curl inward and you can feel her stroking your g-spot. each time she drags her fingers slowly out of you, your legs shake. to cure this, she set about encircling your clit with her tongue. your toes curl and just when you think you can relax into the sensation, a third finger is pressed into you. in and out, a little quicker this time. simone raises her head and kisses your stomach, leaving behind little wet marks to grow cool over time. she does this again and again, before gently setting her teeth to your inner thigh and biting. a sharp inhale, a quaking of your core as she massages your inner passage, it feels too good and you can feel another orgasm building behind your belly button.
she sucks at your thigh before releasing it, a squelch of her fingers pressing back in and you reach out to sink your finger into her hair, grabbing her ponytail and directing her mouth to another spot on your other thigh. she repeats the process here. soft kiss, a bashful lick, then, while she is finger fucking you fast and hard now, she bites down on the skin, hard enough for you to hear the skin break. a series of muted little pops in the back of your throat. it is agonizing and it tips you over the edge. all the blood rushes from your feet up your legs, focusing down to a pinpoint deep inside your cunt and you hold your breath as the sensation explodes throughout your entire body. a long, almost strangled whine sent upwards as she releases her jaw and the aftershocks reverberate through your entire body.
gasping breaths, whistling down your parched throat. the entire world and all its problems gone. all there is now is your own breathing and the feeling of simone sliding up the front of you, planting more kisses along your body before she finds your mouth and sets her own there. you can taste her, you can taste yourself on her. you try to speak against her mouth.
“ i… didn’t know… you were… a bitter. “
simone chuckles.
“ it never felt organic to enter into our casual conversations. “ she sighs and lays her head against your chest. her ear is over your heart and you wonder if she can hear something unique in how it beats. “ so this is what it sounds like. “ she muses quietly.
“ do you hear something? “
“ i don’t think so. “ she replies, her head rising and falling with each breath you take. “but to be so close to one, as a protoist, it’s very exciting. do you believe that it gives you an edge when resonating? “ it is another aspect you’ve never considered until she brought it up. simone sits in silence, listening to the core or perhaps waiting for your answer. after a few minutes, she lifts her head, sitting back onto her knees. “ did you have somewhere to be? i shouldn’t keep you from your other appointments. “
“ i do but. wht about you? “ it feels exceptionally selfish of you to not reciprocate on her.
“ i’ve got lots of work to do. “ she waves her hands in front of her. “ and you’ve got somewhere to be. besides, we’re just friends. if we were lovers, maybe i’d want you to stay, but we’re not. we’re just friends. “
“ right. “ you agree, a subtle hint of sadness in your voice. “ just friends. “
simone nods sharply in agreement. she stands and fetches your pants and underpants. she hands them over with a genuine smile, then strides over to the kitchen to pick up your bra and blouse. she points you toward the bathroom to clean yourself up and while alone, you examine the burgundy rings of bitemarks on your inner thighs. they will be another secret for you to carry around for awhile.
by time you’ve refreshed and redressed, she has fixed your weapon completely and handed it over. you thank her and consider giving her a peck on the cheek but that’s what lovers do, not friends. instead you give her a quick hug, thank her for the repair job, then hurry out of her apartment with a promise to text her later. you’ve got appointments to get to.
did you like the fic? if so, consider buying my a kofi as a thanks! it let's me know i should continue putting out new work and is very much appreciated.
FINALLY MC HAS ANOTHER FRIEND THAT IS NOT TARA AND SHE IS GORGEOUS(I consider her a friend, idc). Also, she's so badass already, she's passing me Sylus vibes.
Synopsis : Accepting to partake in Simone's new hobby, you didn't expect it to be so humiliating
You inhaled sharply after the last knot of the rope was tightened. Your wrists neatly wrapped, your arms attached behind your back. You lowered your gaze. The red string looping around your chest, you questioned Simone’s whereabouts.
“Is it too tight?” She asked admiring her work.
You wouldn’t have minded being a guinea pig for this simple thing. Guilt brought you to achieve things you wouldn’t normally do. Although being tied up was not the issue, was it the sole reason she called you today?
A request from her transforms into a command to you, you are powerless when it comes to her demands. Scared by her hold on you, you preferred to simply pretend nothing was going on. In other words avoiding her as much as you could, something you’ve been doing for a while now.
“What am i supposed to do now…?” You wondered, not making eye contact.
She lowered herself to meet your gaze. Grabbing your chin, she gently turned your face. She swallowed slowly after watching your face blushing from embarrassment. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She licked her lips before scratching her nose, scrutinizing each knots.
“I think it looks like that in the book… Can you move?” She attempted to reach the manuscript behind her.
“No…” After a short struggle you admitted defeat. “When you asked me for help i didn’t imagine that…” You finally gather the courage to say.
“Hold on…”
Ashamed to admit this was not the answer you hoped for, you just muttered some nonsense and let her attention be grabbed by the lines of texts in front of her.
“How do you feel?” She analyzed each of my movements as restricted as they were.
Her large flared shirt slipped to side uncovering her shoulder. Her pink bra strap exposed, you couldn’t look away. You nodded idiotically without leaving your target out of reach.
“That’s good… I was worried i would be terrible at this… And you seem to be comfortable so i’m glad.” She announced with a smile plastered on her face.
Seeing you hypnotized by the strap, she covered it to get you attention again.
“Why are you learning this? I’m just curious.” Nervously laughing avoiding her gaze you asked.
“Why? i think it’s a fun little skill to have… It’s always useful.” smiling, she replied.
“So you would’ve called anybody…? I mean you did…” You muttered.
“Not anybody.” Your heart skipped a beat at her response. “I wanted you specifically.” She loudly announced pushing you down on your back. The fluffy carpet beneath you soften your fall.
With strained eyes you watched Simone cage you, unable to make any movements. You exuded stupor.
“You prefer to be laid on your stomach?” She asked, smiling.
You avoided her piercing gaze, your thoughts widely inappropriate.
You shivered when her tongue grazed your skin, shutting your eyes, you hear a little chuckle before she bit your earlobe.
“You don’t wanna look at me still?”
…
“Look at your mommy.”
Fuck.
You furrowed your eyebrows, glancing quickly in her direction. Bursting into laughter, she approached, straddling you.
“Embarrassed?“ Still laughing she slowly took off her shirt. “Look at you…” She hummed unaware you couldn’t watch her for too long without exploding. “Mommy doesn’t get to see your beautiful face?” Her head resting or your chest her hair tickling your nipples.
“Fine…” You said, blush aggressively occupying your face and reaching your ears. You bit the inside of your cheek.
“Good girl.” She said tucking her hair again.
Licking your exposed nipple, she cupped your breast firmly. You reminded yourself that motion was not helpful in your current situation, all you could do is handle it. Could you handle it?
With each agonizing breath, you cried loudly, your mouth dry. Was it torture? Yes. Were you enjoying it? Also yes. So much so, you battled your need to be filled. Which she quickly noticed. Now sprawled beneath her, no escape could ever be planned, nor a vengeance.
Mouth agape you begged for mercy. Unfortunately, she was too enamored by your voice to actually listen to your demands.
“You sound so sweet. I like when you’re begging.“ Hearing her words you quietly calmed yourself down. “You should’ve known better than to ignore me.” Wrapping her hand tenderly around your neck, she sucked on your skin.
It wasn’t ignoring per se. You argued internally, your expression conveyed different emotions. Thoughts mixing themselves with the present moment and all you started to think about were her fingers.
“Sweetie… Don’t make me mad…” Simone said pressing her knee on your center.
“Are you gonna put me on a leash?”
Hesitant, she bit her lip.
“Should i? Are you gonna behave if i don’t.” She scrutinized each part of your body, your eyes following her incredibly fast, your heart beating rapidly. Nothing was actually stopping her from tying a collar around your neck, not even yourself.
“…” You stop yourself before she teased you further. “Simone— Before you could finish your sentence she admitted defeat.
“Your face is all red.” she chuckled hiding the collar behind her back. “You’re being very obedient so there’s no need for that. But i’m not finished i need to tie your legs too.”
Seeing the large red rope wrapped around her fingers, you quietly inhaled, shutting your eyes.
“I’m sorry…” Avoiding her gaze you muttered under your breath.
To have an easier time she laid you on your stomach. It wasn’t because you moved a lot but because she feared you would explode if you kept eye contact during the entire time. How right she was…
“I can’t move.” You said as the ropes tightened.
“You shouldn’t that’s why i picked this one.” She caressed your thighs as she mentioned her favorite position.
“Is this necessary? i mean…” You pleaded.
“Be a good girl.” She whispered in your ear.
Her fingers lapping your cunt, she parted your moist folds with ease. She wouldn’t allow you to look at her, you could only stare at the paintings hanged on the wall or the foot of her living room table.
Her lips dragged across your ear. Your cries echoed in the apartment.
“What’s wrong? Do you miss me?” You could hear bliss in her tone. “I thought you preferred to look everywhere else.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yes you are baby but i’m not done with you.” she lifted your chin.
She pressed your center. The woman in the painting facing you stared at her beloved with a loving expression. Small ripples formed inside you, unable to move or see you expressed yourself with your voice.
Her finger maintaining your mouth agape, fiddling with your tongue, she kept shoving her dominant hand inside your cunt. With an expertise that terrified you, she occupied your entire being. As warmth slowly built up, your walls tightened around her fingers.
Your eyes darting around the room, observing the lamp dangling above you. Caged by her marvelous dexterity, your muffled pleads came unnoticed.
Were you being punished? Probably. After all she made it clear ever since your arrival. She wanted your attention.
After the third finger was inserted, you could hear your heart beating incredibly fast, each pump harder than the last. She shoved them so rapidly each time your head whirled, if only you could see her face.
Drool dripped to your chin, as you contemplated the vase in front of you. The warm tone of the room, really suited Simone. Her perfume tickled your nose, your head resting to the side, you caught a small glimpse of Simone. She smiled at you before covering your eyes.
