Z

You and Emperor Sylus got married a little while ago, as part of a treaty between your two countries. You didn’t want to marry him, but you have to out of duty.

For the sake of your country.

The wedding was grand, extravagant in ways you wouldn’t have thought of if you got to plan it. Silk white drapes embroidered with golden threads hang from the ceiling, it takes you a while to realize that the pattern of the thread was that of a dragon.

Unsurprising considering who you were marrying.

Royals and nobles alike offered nothing but jewels and gold as a congratulatory gift, most were for you surprising even your husband.

Everyone knows how much a dragon likes to hoard.

Speaking of your husband— throughout the entire event, his eyes never left you. No matter where you were in the room you were always able to turn and see his piercing red eyes boring into you, his gaze cold, distant.

As rude as his staring was when your gazes met he had the decency to at least pretend he hadn’t been staring at you all night.

Your wedding day came and went and for a long while after it, you felt empty.

After your wedding ceremony, you were stuffed into a carriage and sent to a separate manor, one far away from your newly wedded husband.

If you can even call him that.

After all, you’re not properly married until you consummate your marriage at least that’s how the world in this day and age sees it.

Why would he marry you if he was just going to drop you off a half an hour away from him, surrounded by people you don’t know.

People who could want to assassinate you for all you know.

Not that he would care, he seems to busy doing other things.

He rides past your manor almost daily and yet he doesn’t stop, not for anything. The servants seem to pity you, but they think too highly of him to smudge his name with gossip.

That’s something you come to notice about the citizens here, they adore their emperor.

At first, you thought they feared him.

When he was near they didn’t talk loudly and they hardly dropped anything, but the moment he was gone they’d fawn over him and tell you how lucky you are that you’re the one who got to marry him.

A common phrase was always repeated

“I can’t believe we’re here with him!!”

The dragon emperor would visit you at times.

Briefly, almost as quick as it took you to take a piss.

He’d ask “How are you? Is there anything you need?” And right as the answer is out of your mouth he’s out the door.

He does this every week like clockwork.

And today, it seems, is the day he’ll do so this week.

You can hear is carriage stop outside your manor, the horses neighing as the coachman tries—and fails, to quiet them.

You can hear the tassel on his hilt clang against his scabbard as he hurries up the stairs, and finally, as he reaches the door he knocks.

Softly, as if he knows it’ll echo across the manor with how empty it is.

And he waits, patient as you walk towards the door.

He can hear you too.

You debate whether or not you should leave him there, tired of his pointless questions, tired of him acknowledging you then ignoring you in the same minute.

Your steps are slow and deliberate, waiting to see if he’ll get impatient and knock again, or better yet leave.

But no. He stays. Patient as always.

With a long sigh, you grab hold of the golden door handle, taking a deep breath before cracking it open.

“Hello, darling.” He drawls, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “Is everything okay with you?” He says, so low it’s almost like a whisper a look of concern on his face.

You can’t blame him for asking, especially with that look on his face.

You don’t exactly look your best today.

“I’m fine, my lord.” You say smiling tightly, “Nothing is better than spending your birthday alone after all.” Your voice drips with sarcasm as you say this, glaring at the dragonic man in front of you.

“Today’s your birthday?” He rushed out, tilting his head as he took a half step towards you.

“No, tomorrow is.” You chuckled out stepping further away from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He growls, stepping further towards you.

For every step backwards you took he took another one forward as if something inside him was compelling him to do so, “you didn’t ask” you mumble, wincing when you bump into the corner of the wall too harshly.

The dragon huff’s obviously annoyed by this secret you decided to keep from him.

“Come with me” he demands, grabbing hold of your wrist before you can protest and dragging you out of your manor.

Sylus marched out of your manor and towards his carriage dragging you along with him, “My lord! Wait!” You yelp, trying to get him to slow down.

But that was all for naught, he’s a dragon for goodness’ sake, and you’re but a lord.

“Do not call me that,” he growls at you, “I am your husband, and you shall address me as such” he snarled lifting you and placing you inside the carriage.

“Well, I’m sorry, husband. It’s hard to remember I’m married when we live in separate manors.” You hum, turning away from him.

“If you didn’t like it, why didn’t you tell me?” He grunts out kneeling on the floor of the carriage in front of you, his eyes filled with a longing you’ve never seen before.

“Why would I? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to be wed to me, I mean, you didn’t even consummate our marriage.” You blurt out, before you could stop yourself.

Your face grew red as a small smirk made its way onto the dragon lord's face, “I’ve been holding myself back for nothing.” He purrs, shuffling closer towards you.

“The only reason you were in the blasted manor is because I was afraid I’d hurt you,” he says voice soft as cotton, “Since the moment I laid eyes upon you my dragon has longed to claim you” he pauses placing his hand on your hip and rubbing small circles there with his thumb, “I have longed to claim you.”

This statement from him shocks you.

You thought he was just waiting for you to die so he could marry someone else, someone he actually loves and wishes to have a family with.

“What..?” You query, eyebrows raised and eyes slanted. He's playing with you, he has to be.

“I’m not going to humor you nor play along with your game.” You huff, leaning back against the seat of the carriage, “I know you want nothing to do with me, it’s okay to be honest.” You mumble, deciding you had enough of your husband’s shenanigans and turning your head to look out the window.

“You’re my husband.”

“Out of political obligation, you didn’t even want to marry me.”

“If I didn’t want to marry you, the wedding wouldn’t have happened,” he snarls, smoke escaping from his nostrils.

“You-”

“ENOUGH!” He yells, cutting off your sentence, “You are my husband, my mate, my everything. A dragon wedding is more than that of a human's; it's not something you can force. It is the binding of our souls, yet our bond is incomplete, something I shall rectify immediately.” The way he says it scares you in a way, a very arousing way but in your defense as bad as you want to hate him he’s just so bloody attractive.

As if he can hear your thoughts he chooses that very moment to take a deep breath.

He pauses, eyes dilated as his gaze locks onto you.

You ignore the sight of his nostrils flaring and the trilling that starts in the back of his throat, focusing on the scenery outside of the carriage.

“Immediately indeed” he mutters, sighing as he finally sits down in a proper seat.

In the seat next to you no less.

“We have arrived!” The coachman yells as the carriage comes to a stop.

“Come, I wish to show you my hoard.” He purrs out, moving ahead of the coachman and opening the carriage door, jumping out and holding his hand out towards you.

You scoff, glaring down at him before ignoring his outstretched hand entirely stepping out of the carriage on your own.

The dragon merely smiles down at you, unfazed by your attitude, and grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers.

“Don’t worry, baobei. By the end of the night, all of those untoward feelings towards me will be nothing but a bad dream” he hums, looking down at your interlaced hands, smiling as he takes in the difference between the sizes of your hands.

He nods to the coachman signaling that he can leave, before marching up the stairs to his palace or, ‘hoard’ as he put it.

This isn’t the palace where you married, you realize as you take in the scenery around you. This one is more secluded.. more private. Covered in the wilderness of the earth around it, “Do you like it?” A voice tones, interrupting your thought process.

You glanced up at the male next to you, fixing your lips to mutter the word ‘no’ before you take one more glance at your surroundings. You realize that the sights surrounding you are too beautiful to lie about.. and he’d probably know you were lying anyway. So, you grant him a single nod.

“I’m glad you like it,” he rumbles, leaning down towards you and placing a small peck on your temple.

You glare in response, frustrated that after all this time he finally wants to act like a true husband because it’s your birthday.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” he pleads, opening the door to his hoard, “in you go baobei.” he muses, placing a hand on the small of your back and shoving you—not pushing— shoving you inside.

The moment you’re both inside the door is closed and locked, the hall is dark except for the red glow of your husband’s eyes.

You blink trying to adjust your eyesight to the darkness of the room, before you realize that the dragon's hand is still on the small of your back.

The claws at his fingertips sink into your flesh, possessive in a way, and you’re suddenly all too aware of how alone you both truly are.

“My darling,” he purrs, leaning down to place his chin on the top of your head.

There’s something in his voice when he says it, something dark, something you can’t exactly pinpoint.

He slides his hand from the small of your back to your pelvis, right atop your uterus.

He sinks his claws into there too.

You bite back a whine, the shock of it sending you into the tips of your toes.

“I have longed to have you here with me” he whispers, voice soft and gentle despite his actions.

“It took everything in me not to use my rule as your husband— your emperor to have you with me.” As he says this his claws dig deeper, hooking onto the flesh they’ve penetrated.

“I had to settle for coming to see you once a week— my visits short and brief out of fear I’d lose control.” He pauses, listening to your soft and short whines as you grip at his wrist trying to get his claws out of you. “But that only keeps a dragon sane for so long” he moans out, finally listening to your pleading whines and removing his claws from so deep in your flesh. “A dragon cannot rest until its most precious treasure is lying within its hoard,” he chimes, grabbing your shoulders and turning you around, smiling when he sees the stray tear trailing down your face.

He leans down, opens his mouth, and licks the tear up before it could fall onto the fabric of your vest. “Oh don’t cry, my darling,” he pouts, getting down on his knees in front of you, grabbing onto your hips and pulling you closer to him.

“You see, I put you in that cursed manor to protect you. For I knew, if I had you where I wanted you. I wouldn’t be able to control myself” he whines, nuzzling into your pelvis, shushing you when you cry out from the pressure.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he purrs, hooking his claws into your pants, “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” And with that, he pulls, tearing the clothes from your body .

“My lord-” you choked out, shocked at how he’s behaving before you’re interrupted by a deep growl, filled with rage.

“I told you not to call me that.”

You cover your body in shame, embarrassed that you’re nude in such a public place, where anyone can just walk in and see.

“I am your husband, you shall address me as such” he snarls, glancing up at you and frowning once he sees you covering yourself, “I am your husband, there’s no need to hide yourself from me.” He says it softly, a complete contrast to how he’s been acting lately.

“Are you embarrassed?” He questions, smiling before kissing your stomach.

“There’s no need, the servants won’t tell a soul” he hums, trying to reassure you. “And if they do, I’ll simply eat theirs” with that he attacks. Yanking you down by your legs so that you fall perfectly into his lap, you scream— obviously— the suddenness of the act frightening you. A few hours ago this man was a cold and distant husband, practically a stranger to you. But now…now he’s on his knees practically worshiping you.

He mutters fervent whispers against your naked flesh, clutching at every part of you that he can reach. “I shall take you, properly. As a husband should.” His voice is strained, almost like he’s struggling to get his words out.

“But first, we must make it to our nest” he purrs, the strange, inhuman sound building up in his chest and shaking your body with it. And suddenly, with no time to process, you’re being carried down stairs, bridal style of course, nothing less for an emperor’s mate.

Candle flames begin to appear like magic, lighting up the faces of the servants eagerly taking in your naked form. Strangely enough, their eyes do not hold a speck of lust in them. They’re simply excited to see you, in the emperor’s hoard— where you belong.

Your husband is focused on the task of getting you to the center of the room, where a bed of furs lies, surrounded by all the jewels the dragon has collected over the years.

His strides are long and hurried, barely paying attention to his servants as he heads toward his goal that is mere steps away.

In a breath, you are there. Your husband apparently remembered that it’s much faster to fly than walk, the flashed movement catches you off guard. Not used to being teleported halfway across a room, in less than a second.

Unfortunately, your husband could not care less.

Too focused on getting in between your legs and breeding you than making sure you’re okay with the sudden change in scenery.

“My darling” he drawls, breathing heavily as he carefully sets you down on the layer of furs. “I’m afraid I cannot be as gentle, about this moment as I would like to be,” he says ‘gentle’ like the word has personally wronged him by simply existing, “my dragon will not let me.”

He strips quickly, frustrated that he’s even wearing robes in the first place. His tail comes to wrap itself around your thigh, as he tears the last of the clothes away from his skin; he sighs in relief as he’s finally freed from them, his eyes falling shut as he welcomes the cool air against his heated skin.

His eyes stay shut as he regulates his breathing, then his tail tightens around your thigh, he plays with the flesh there, drawing invisible shapes onto it using the tip of his tail to do so. Then with a lick of his lips, he opens his eyes, just a sliver, you barely noticed at first until you saw the red glow to them, shining down at you in the dimly lit room.

He reaches out towards you, placing his hand on your clawed pelvis, he presses down on it before humming unhappily, “It’s so empty” he hisses, upset that he has yet to fill you.

“Don’t worry, my sweet.” He croons, caressing the injured flesh there. “I shall fix that” he trails his clawed hands downward, towards his treasured goal, “I shall fill your empty, hollow womb with my essence,” he promises, using his tail's grip on your thigh to spread your legs apart for him.

His eyes widen once your moistened cunt comes into view, the glow of his eyes brightening as he takes in the sight of it. His clawed fingers eagerly come to caress it, his pupils sharpen as he watches your back arch at the sudden pleasure bestowed upon you.

“I cannot use my fingers upon you,” he mutters, a mocking tone lingering underneath the words, “but-“ he pauses, his tails unraveling from around your thigh and slithering towards your core, “I suppose this will do?” He phrases it like it’s a question, but you both know it’s not. His tail is already pressing against your opening when it is said, not waiting for permission to enter you.

“My lord-”

“Husband” you are interrupted by him, his tail steadily pushing into you, “or better yet, Sylus” he hums, watching you with glee as you shake and writhe as his tail splits you open.

“Sylus, husband— please” you whine, your thighs shake as his hand begins to play with your clit as if it’s a fidget toy. “That’s it, call out my name” he groans, sliding himself between your thighs as his tail finally reaches the barrier to your womb.

“ I shall see that all your needs are seen to” he hums, leaning down to kiss your clavicle, he offers it a soft peck before sinking his fangs into the thin flesh there. Groaning out as he listens to your pleasure-pained cries, he bites down harder, drawing out your delicious blood.

The taste of your blood sparks a noticeable change in the dragon hybrid atop you, his hand moves from your clit to your thigh and he uses that grip to hike your leg onto his hip, shifting his tail deeper into you past that cursed barrier and further into the deepest part of you.

With an unhappy grunt, the dragon removes himself from his spot, “We’re almost there, my darling” he purrs, thrusting his tail further into you.

Answering your whines and whimpers with kisses of devotion and reverence.

He moved his tail impatiently as he fucks it into you, tired of feeling you warming his tail and longing for you to warm his cocks instead.

“I can’t” he whines out, abruptly pulling his tail out of your cunt, chirring at the loud whimper it drew from you, “I can’t wait any longer, I must have you” he trills like a madman, letting his cocks fall from the slit between his legs, grinning down at you when you gasp at the sight of them.

He cannot blame you, they are not like human cocks. Textured with smooth black scales and blood red barbs, lines of crimson red are branched out across both his cocks. The hole of the top one is wider— for the depositing of eggs, his ovipositor. The one at the bottom is longer, it will reach the deepest parts of you and fill you in ways unbeknownst to you. He will use both of them to ruin you for any and everyone, both human and dragon. He will claim you entirely.

He offers you a soft kiss upon the lips, savoring the taste of you. Humming in key with your whine as he brutally pushes into you, only one of his cocks— his ovipositor. He wasn’t lying when he said he would see you filled tonight.

He laughs as you cry out to the skies, he thrusts into you steadily, hard and fast, his speed doesn’t waver unless it is to speed up. He smiles down at you as you try to escape his powerful thrusts, clawing at the furs beneath as if that would help you.

“Look, my love” he quips, tilting your head to the side, towards the eyes of the servants eagerly taking in your coupling with childish cheer hidden in their eyes. Sylus kisses down your neck as you take in the gaze of the servants watching you, chuckling as he watches you gaze back at them.

“They have longed to see you,” he whispers into your ear, sliding his hand from your thigh to your waist as he listens to your choked off moans. “Moreso than me it would seem,” You would expect him to sound jealous of that fact, but instead he sounds absolutely delighted. Happy that his servants— citizens welcomed and embraced you.

“They have accepted you as my one and only mate” he purrs, closing his eyes in pleasure as he feels his eggs begin to make their descent. “My eggs” he chokes out, tightening his grip on you, ignoring your pained cries as his claws find home in your unsullied flesh. “They’re coming” he cries out, almost pained in the way he says it.

“You’ll take them” he whines out, eyes wide and glowing as he turns your head back towards him, “you’ll take them for me, yes?” He whimpers, he asks this but his hips do not slow. He doesn’t even brace for the possibility of you saying no, he just thrusts into you nonstop, unyielding.

“Please, say you will darling,” he cries, speeding his hips up as his first egg begins to push itself out of him and into you. “Sylus” you cry as it begins to spread you wide. “I can’t” you hiccup, clawing at the furs now soaked with both your juices. “It’s too much” you whine, as the egg continues to spread you wide, “Sylus.” You whimper, tears filling your eyes as you gaze up at him.

“You can take it, sweetheart, I know you can.” He pants trying to coax his egg into you so that it may lie safely in your womb, “you can take all of me, I know it.” He groans, hissing in pleasure as the egg finally passes into you.

He shushes you as the egg is pushed past your cervix and into your once-empty womb, “There is much more to follow,” he groans out, sighing in relief as the rest of the eggs pile up in his ovipositor, awaiting their turn to enter you.

“Sylus,” you whine, lifting your hands to weakly push at his shoulders, “wait- I have to” you pant, tears spilling down your face as you try to get the words out. It doesn’t matter, he’s a one-minded man, focused only on filling your cunt with his eggs and seed.

You’re cumming before you can get the words out, thighs twitching, back arching as the overwhelming pleasure courses through you.

“That’s a good boy,” he grins, watching as you cum undone as he fills you with his eggs, one by one. He watches as your eyes flutter shut in pleasure only to reopen as yet another is stuffed inside your womb, he watches as your moans become hums and whines. He watches as your stomach rounds with his eggs and your mouth fills with drool, eyes rolling into the back of your head as pleasure overcomes you.

“That’s all of them” he pants once all the eggs are pushed into you, leaning down to press a kiss to your soft open lips, “there’s roughly twenty of them,” he says, caressing your round stomach with his hand.

He smiles as you slow blink at him, barely registering what he’s saying just knowing that he’s saying something, “regrettably, we’re not done yet,” he trills, slowly pulling out of your swollen hole, shushing the whine it pulls from your lips. “We still have to fertilize them.” He crooned, sliding his other cock in as he said so. Groaning as he bottomed out, “I’ll try to make this quick my dear.”

“Sylus please, fill me.” You cry, fucking yourself on his cock. “I wanna be full” You’re delirious with pleasure, choking on saliva as he fucks into you as he had before. Jostling the eggs inside you, “I will, as I promised” he coos, watching intently as you fuck yourself onto his cock.

“I’m so close” you whimper, your over-sensitive nerves firing as they’re stimulated repeatedly. “Cum for me.” He calls, wrapping his tail around your waist, “cum on my cock, darling, milk me for all I’m worth” he begs, shuddering when you tighten around him in orgasm, “yes, that’s it.” He whispers, purring as he watches you twitch in pleasure. “Take what you want from me,” he coos, panting as his end comes near.

“I shall leave you full and satisfied, my love. Round with my seed, and draped in my jewels” he hums, speeding up his thrusts as his completion nears, kissing down your neck as he awaits it.

His tail tightens around his waist as his orgasm rolls over him, barbs sinking into the flesh of your walls, his wings spread behind him, fluttering as his cum spills in you. He roars as he fills you, wings lifting you both from the furs, the servants— you notice— are roaring with him. Cheering on his success in filling you with children, clapping with delight at the thought of having little dragons to attend to.

Once the emperor is fully emptied, he lowers you back down to the furs. Wrapping his wings around both of you, “Happy Birthday, darling.” He purrs, rubbing his horns against you. Trying to get more of his scent on you.

“Is this to your standards?” He asks, sighing against your neck, “I loved it, dear” you mutter, running your hands in his hair, scratching at the base of his horns. “The very best birthday gift.” You hum, tired from all of your previous activity.

“I didn’t hurt you?” He asks, tiredness evident in his voice as he does so. “No, of course not.” You assure him, smiling softly at him, “You did everything I asked.”

“Fucking hated it, being apart from you is the worst.” He pouts, trying to bury himself further into your neck. “Rest now, my love” he whispers, caressing your stomach. “I shall make sure you and the children are safe.” He coos, the glow of his eyes returning.

A rumble starts in his chest as he begins to purr, pulling you into the kingdom of dreams.

—

It left you with the task of “babysitting” his partner—the ever-famous and reliable Connor. 

You didn’t mind him. Truly, you had no qualms about working with an android. You’d much rather him than Detective Reed. He was a real piece of work. But, there were times when Connor could be a teensy bit unnerving, which was no fault of his. As far as you know, he’d only been made a few years ago.  

Hank had even invited you and a few other detectives and uniformed officers to watch a basketball game. Connor had told you he nudged him to be social, and you distinctly remembered snickering quietly as you stood next to him, bringing the plastic cup of alcohol to your lips as you told Connor he was performing miracles. 

So it wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with Connor. Neither of you had worked a case together. There was a difference between casually watching a game of basketball and working on an attempted homicide case.

“Yeah,” you slipped your eyes closed and peeled away from the window. “I’m just thinking. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”  Connor tilts his head. Looking all the more puppy-like. 

You hesitated to answer him as you turned to face him. Would an android be able to understand the inner turmoil in your head at the moment? You doubted that they even had brain fog, or that their ability to be happy sometimes partially relied on the weather. The thought of even confessing this to him caused heat to rise to your cheeks and you shrugged it off.  

“Taking my sweet ass time to think,” your muttering earns another head-tilt from the detective. “It is a tough case,” he responds neutrally, “the circumstances have me…bewildered.”

You scoff as your expression turns incredulous. Connor offers a gentle smile, his brown eyes as warm as ever as his knees shift to point your way in his seat. It escapes your mind that this man was capable of inhuman feats— vaulting between the gaps of buildings, tanking bullets to his torso with minimal issues, being a walking forensics lab to name a few— and you loosen your grip on the steering wheel. 

“The evidence left was nearly nonexistent thanks to the rain. The victim’s in a coma, and the perp was careful. It was a methodically planned out crime. I’m frustrated.” 

“You don’t show it,” your tone is lighthearted and Connor breathes out a laugh. “Sorry, is that offensive?” you grimace, shoulders lifting. 

”Because I’m an android?” Connor laughs again. He leans into the seat, posture still impeccable somehow, and shakes his head. “I’m not offended. It is something I have to work on. Hank says my dry humour isn’t always appreciated. He suggests I have a sunnier disposition.”

”What? Like his?” 

Connor coughs into his fist— you belatedly realise he had snickered and feel the brain fog slowly begin to fade away as you turn your car's ignition. The smooth rumbling and the radio announcer's voice blend seamlessly with Connor and your laughter. 

“You don’t have to apologise for being thorough, detective. It’s an admirable trait to have.” His reassurance should not have your heart picking up speed, but it does and you focus on the road before you instead. Your brain reminds you of every little road law that you had not thought about for years as the other vehicles on the road— including yours— fall into a monotonous routine. 

“So you admire me? I’m honoured,” you jest. Connor knows you’re joking. But his gaze lingers on you, the darkening bags under your eyes, the grip on your steering wheel, and the way your heart rates slightly elevated despite simply driving. Connor is perceptive, he was made to be. He noticed just how— for lack of a better word— funny your body acted when you were alone with him. At first, he assumed the rush of blood to your face and your slightly clammy palms indicated anxiety. All signs pointed that way. 

But you carried on conversations with him as smoothly as ever. He wondered if you had a knack for acting, most people do in their own ways, but you weren’t someone that was distrustful. He could hardly imagine you being deceitful. You were like he had said; admirable. Maybe a little clumsy at times, hard-headed too when you find a lead but Hank says that’s normal for younger detectives. 

‘The need to prove themselves, make a name in the precinct.’

Hank had told him. The human desire to leave a mark on the world, to be remembered. Connor could flood his entire brain with historical figures with a blink. Some more infamous than famous, some with their names used as a stand-in for another word even. So he knows that’s a fact.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as you stop at a red-light. The pitter-patter of rain makes you squint at the warbling sight past the windshield. You pinch your brows tight, and Connor says something funny. 

“I’m starving.” 

“…What?”

He points to a diner. The red and yellow colour scheme stands out brightly in the gloomy hues of the weather and Detroit smog. The place was less than desirable, and as Connor read through the reviews and health department ratings he found himself tightening his smile. Still, he urged you to park in the parking lot next to it because he was ‘starving.’

You didn’t want to offend him by asking what exactly he meant. Maybe he’d gotten a stomach upgrade or something to be able to fit in a bit better. Eating together was an important aspect in socializing after all. So you kept your questions to yourself, simply parking all the way in the back and unbuckling your seat belt. Only to stop when Connor places a hand on your shoulder. You stiffen, turning to face him with your eyes widened and your brows raised in question.

”How long have you been awake, detective?” 

You sputter, your words barely tangible as your mouth gapes. Connor’s head-tilt this time seemed more like a honed police dog than a puppy, and you pressed your lips together. 

“I don’t know. I don’t exactly count that down, ya’ know?” You motion your eyes between him and his hand. Connor reluctantly slips it away and folds them politely on his lap. You try to ignore the lingering feeling of his body warmth on you. Your brain was playing tricks on you, mocking you again for not having a supercomputer instead of a mass of flesh and short-circuiting neurons. 

“I estimate 16-hours.” 

‘Way to rub it in,’ you thought bitterly. More so to yourself than Connor. But he catches the twinge of displeasure in your eyes. 

“Maybe we should end our day early. Both of us are tired.”

”Jesus, Connor. First, you’re starving and now you’re tired? Are you trying to take pity on me, or something?”

The anger in your voice is beginning to make itself known. Your lips curl as you hastily unbuckle yourself and practically swing your door open. Cold air rushes in, and so does rain, but you stubbornly soldier through. 

“I’m a grown-ass man. I can take care of myself.”

The car shakes when you close your door and Connor’s reminded of Hank. Logically, there was no way every single detective he’d known could be such…hardasses, but yet here he was with his own sample size. The thought of you sharing similarities to Hank causes him to scrunch his nose, as if tasting something sour, and he sighs softly. Connor rushes towards your grumpy figure, entering into the restaurant just a few steps behind you. 

The servers glance Connor’s way, wary but trying their best not to show it. As long as they didn’t commit any crimes in front of him, Connor would stay out of their way. Besides that, he had more pressing things to attend to. You, in particular. You find a quiet corner to sit at and Connor sits across from you, watching as you rub your hands together. 

He wanted to ask if you were cold. But he shouldn’t push his luck. Maybe he should’ve been more tactful leading you here, but he wasn’t unhappy that you weren’t behind the wheel anymore. For a while, the ambience of the restaurant muffles the awkward silence. You reach for some of the tissues and wipe off as much water as you can from your jacket, and face. 

Then, you push the box to Connor. He nods, then methodically wipes off as much water as he can. The peace offering was taken, so the silence was less thick this time. 

“What can we get for you, man?” You give a tight smile to the waiter, telling him you’d like a warm cup of coffee. He tells you the coffee here is shit. Connor knows he isn’t lying— the reviews didn’t exactly hold back on them regarding that. 

“Shitty coffee is exactly what I need,” sarcasm drips from your words. You add on a sandwich with a side of fries and the waiter goes off to fulfill your order. Another bout of silence. 

“Is the case keeping you awake?” Connor takes in the micro-expressions on your face. The twitch in your cheek, the tension between your brows, and when you brush your tongue over your lips his eyelids flutter. 

“It’s frustrating. I know. But you’re one of the youngest detectives in our precinct for a reason, your record’s impeccable.” You know he’s telling the truth, and using it as a way to comfort you. It was sweet, and you resist the urge to grin his way and say ‘thanks’ like some bright-eyed idiot. 

“It’s not just that, Connor,” you knead at the nape of your neck. Barely straightening up when your shitty coffee arrives in a white mug. The smell and warmth loosens your shoulders, and even when you grimace as you take a gulp the comforting heat that travels through you further eases the tension from you. 

You dismiss his reassurance. He takes note of it, but doesn’t push. Connor slides the sugar your way and you squint your eyes up at him as your cheeks barely lift to give him a pursed-lip smile. You were exhausted. It’s like the walk from the car to the diner sapped everything out of you. 

“The victim’s mom…God, she was…”

Connor knows. He saw her rush to you with tears streaming down her face as she begged for answers that you didn’t have. Her daughter was in a coma from an attack, her stitches fresh and bruises discolouring her skin— it would cause any parent distress. 

“It’s been days of nothing. No trails, no motive, we have a shitty CCTV clip of him running out the door but then what? We owe it to her to find answers for her daughter.”

”I know, and we will bring him to justice. But, detective,” Connor’s voice turns severe as he searches for your gaze. “It does no one no good if you’re sleep deprived. I need my partner to solve this case, so I need you to be 100%”

You scoff, ignoring the clink of the plate of food being put down your table as your sandwich arrives. It’s suspiciously room temperature while the plate is warm, and the fries are a little limp but you just stare down at your coffee. 

“You don’t exactly need me. I can barely think.”

”Yes, that tends to happen when someone experiences sleep deprivation.” 

You curl your nose at him, and he just gestures to your plate of food. You take a few bites and with each of them your face twists into further confusion. Eventually, you settle on eating your fries, something Connor thought was the safest option. He tries not to stare at you too much, occasionally looking out the window and noticing the Raindrop Race as most people do during a storm. 

There that puppy is again. Your eyes soften, and you grumble with your mouth still full of food. ”Sorry for being a dick.” 

Connor just chuckles. 

“Sorry, but Detective Anderson’s got you beat there. I didn’t even notice you were being a dick.”

Connor can’t drive. Something they were still pending on regarding androids driving personal vehicles. It was dumb, if androids were allowed to commandeer buses and aeroplanes then why couldn’t they drive their own cars? 

He’s not happy with you buckling into the driver’s seat. But the shitty coffee wasn’t worth a refill and you were in no mood to order anything else. 

“You should rest before you get behind the wheel, detective.”

You look over your shoulder and sigh. “There’s a motel, but I’m not shelling out 40 bucks for a 3-hour nap. I’ll be—“ you yawn, and you try to speak through the yawn “—fineee. I just had a coffee anyway. It’ll kick in.”

When you reach for the gear, he places a hand over yours. You’re always a bit surprised at how skin-like his touch was. You’d seen him exchange information with other androids before, how the flesh just smooths away to reveal that pure-white shell. You didn’t hate it though. He felt nicer than the cup of coffee. The weight of him, the feeling of the lines on his palms. Artificial or not— it was still Connor.

He narrows his eyes. His head tilts. Connor leans in, and you don’t lean away. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, detective. Do I make you nervous?”

”E-excuse me?” Your grip loosens, but Connor keeps your hand pinned beneath his. It was effortless; naturally, what with him being made of some sort of metal. 

“Your heart rate rises, you get clammy palms, but your pupils they,” he trails off as he catches your gaze with his own. Curiosity was so clearly written across Connor’s face, you felt like he was attempting to read you— as though you were some case file that he wanted to pour hours of attentiveness into. A steel-trap resolve to understand you more, to know your motives and intentions and grasp you in his arms. 

If you were a criminal, maybe you’d feel much more frightened. 

You tried to mask your expression, twisting your mouth into a frown.

”My pupils…what?”

”They…expand.” Connor tilts his head, then his mouth parts like he came to a stunningly miraculous conclusion. 

“Detective, do you perhaps have an infatuation towards me?” 

The radio plays a jaunty tune from decades ago, and the rain doesn’t lighten up the slightest. You don’t say anything. Stunned at your own stupidity for thinking Connor out of all people wouldn’t have noticed— the guy read your heart rate for fucks sake!

You try to slip your hand away from him, but he carefully cinches his fingers around your wrist. 

“Connor,” you warn. Your voice coloured with embarrassment. 

“Please, I’d like to know,” he sounded sincere. You wondered if he was morbidly curious about it. It wasn’t that humans falling in love with androids were anything new, there were plenty of cases. 

“I…shit, maybe I do have an infatuation with you, okay? It’s not like there’s a lot of options at our precinct,” you grumble as you finally slip your hand away from him. You place your hands on the steering wheel, but make no move to actually drive. 

Connor’s lower lip almost juts out as he processes what you said. Then the corners of his mouth curl up, and he faces his knees your way again. 

“You had a process of elimination to determine who’d be your precinct eye candy, detective?”

Your ears nearly turned red at the teasing tone he takes. You narrow your eyes at him, cursing for him to shut up as you reach for the gear again. But again, Connor’s hand grasps yours. 

“Are you trying to fuck with me or something, Connor?” 

“…I could if it’d help you rest.”

”What?”

Connor offers that gentle smile again, then glances down at your hand in his. He smooths the pad of his thumb over your jutting knuckles, and he feels the rush of blood on the protruding vein. 

“Orgasms are known to help with sleep.”

Your jaw drops. 

“My model doesn’t have functioning genitalia, but I can still provide—“  He flutters his lashes when you slap a hand over his mouth. Your brows are furrowed as you try to find the words. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is the offer offensive to you, detective?” Connor’s voice is muffled from behind your hand but he continues.”I just assumed that it would…my apologies.”

”I didn’t even know you could talk about those sorts of things…” You said in a breathless voice, stuck between feeling appalled and amused at the absurdity of it all. He tilts his head and you unmask his mouth, retreating into your seat again as you try to process his words. 

“I am…” he searches for the word, and you watch as he thinks. “Fond of you, detective.” Fond wasn’t a common word in these modern scenarios, and you’re unsure what he means exactly by it but you allow him to continue. 

“And I would rather you be well-rested than not. I can help…if you’d like me to.” You try to find any trace of bullshit on his face. You find none.

”Christ, you do this for every partner you have?”  Connor’s face twists into genuine disgust at your lacklustre joke. “Please don’t even imply that with my relationship with Detective Anderson.” 

You grimace, and apologize as you knead at the back of your neck once again. 

“Do you even know how to—“ Connor smirks at you when you ask. You shut your mouth and scoff. Of course, even if he didn’t know now…he could learn how with a few blinks.

”Show off.”

”We all have our flaws.”

”Shit, am I really going to spend 40 bucks for a nap and a lay?” You reach again for the gear and Connor’s had it. He reaches for your chin, pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger and he forces you to look at him. 

“Visibility’s low with the rain, detective. This diner isn’t well-liked. Your window tint provides enough cover as is. You can rest in the backseat.”

“Holy shit,” you utter. A lazy roll of heat crawls down your spine at his assertiveness. You’d never seen it aimed your way before— maybe a few times towards Hank, and a few interrogations as well. But never at you. You gulped thickly, then nodded. 

“Okay.”

You’re both sitting side-by-side in the backseat. The rush of cold that flooded in from opening the car doors causes you to shiver, so Connor slides his hands into yours. He raise his body temperature and you sigh in relief. You turn when he gets closer and when your nose brushes against his own he pauses. 

You’re wide-eyed. So unlike the detective he’s known. It’s adorable. Connor reaches and cups your cheek in his warm palm. Your breath stutters when he ghosts his fingers over the curve of your cold ears. 

“May I kiss you, detective? Studies show that foreplay can lead to a more pleasurable—“ You press your lips together. His eyes widen a bit, but he then adjusts to accommodate. 

It’s unfair how good he is at kissing if this was his first kiss. You frown, and pull away as the thought crosses your mind. 

“Is this your first kiss?”

”Yes.” 

Connor pulls you in again and you gasp. He doesn’t slip his eyes closed. He didn’t want to— though he knows it's what was expected. Connor was curious, and he wanted to make sure you were enjoying yourself. His attentive, thorough, partner deserved the same dedication in the bedroom. Connor could keep watch while he read through the case files, it wouldn’t be any less productive. 

You made a sweet noise when he experimentally bit down on your lower lip. He slips his hands into your jacket and slips it off your shoulders. His warm touch causes goose flesh to ripple under your clothes. Your flesh is so soft— he’s always marvelling at how soft humans are. So plush, and so fragile. 

You flutter your eyes open when he trails his kisses down your chin, to your jaw, and after a sweet kiss under your jaw he descends to your neck. You crinkle his coat when he traces his tongue on your pulse. 

“Your neck is sensitive,” he notes in a whisper. You slip his coat off next, your fingers crawling up to his nape and feeling the scratchy texture of his ‘shaved’ hairs. He grasps at your waist and you groan his name.

It stokes something within Connor. 

“Am I doing good, detective?” You nod wordlessly against the junction of his neck and shoulder. Your body is louder than you are— rising heart rate, the flushed ears, the perspiration on your skin— and he finds himself a bit upset at it.

He calls out your name, and you turn your head to look at him questioningly. 

“I…” Connor pauses for a second. This word always felt foreign for Connor, but he should say what he means if he wanted this interaction to go well. Studies had shown open communication during intimate acts proved more positive results, and he didn’t want the foundation of trust and infatuation between you to become shaky. 

So he continues. 

“I need to know if I’m making you feel good.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips as you nod again. 

“You’re making me feel really nice, Connor. Your hands are so warm, and as annoying as it is you’re a real good kisser.”

Connor preens inwardly, and his grip on your waist turns more confident. 

“I’m sorry for being a good kisser,” he teases. You chuckle, brushing your teeth over his neck as you undo his tie. There was something fun about unwrapping Connor from his usually perfect shell. You can’t deny the rush it gave you, and he returns the eager sentiment as he unbuttons your top. 

You shoulder it off and he presses his kisses there too. His warm hands touch your bare torso and when it reaches your pebbling nipple, you bite down gently on his neck. Connor chuckles, tilting his head down at you as he nips at your collarbones. 

“You might break your teeth if you try any harder.” 

“Worth it.”

”Absolutely not.”

You feel his hands reach to unzip your jeans and when he does, he pats your outer thigh. You look at him, panting while he motions for you to lay down. The second you do, he descends onto you like a heated and weighted blanket. A very handsome one. 

Your eyelids go a bit heavy and Connor relishes at the signs of success. You shimmy out of your jeans, Connor helps. 

You’re now in your underwear and Connor zeroes in at the darkening spot on it. You curse, telling him not to stare but he remains fixated on it. 

“You’re aroused. Very aroused.” 

”I’m very aware, Connor,” you reply dryly. 

He braces himself on his elbows, kissing you again and you’re struggling to keep up. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, his loosened tie dragging across your torso as his tongue battles for dominance. He reaches to place a palm against the window when he feels the seat under him giving away under his hand. It leaves a print, thanks to the panting you’re doing and him raising his body temperature. 

You inhaled sharply when that same hand sneaks down your sides. Connor watches you as your brows furrow, your jaw loose as every little noise excites him more and more. 

“Does this feel good?”

He slips his hands in your underwear and you flutter your eyes open. 

Connor’s eyes are hungry for your praise. 

“Touch me more, Connor. Please.”

He finds your slicked hole. You moan as he presses his fingers on your cock, and begins to rub you off. You stretch your back, tossing your head back as your hips ground on the seats. He’s entranced by it— by you. 

“Fuuuck, that feels good.”

”Forgive me, I didn’t think to ask what terms you’d like to use for your—“ Connor is cut off by your wanton groan. “Dick, cock, cunt,” you mutter against his lips before sneaking your tongue into his mouth again. He finally slips his eyes closed this time, focusing on your cock as he swallows your moans. 

“You’re too tense,” Connor tells you as he grasps the back of your neck. The car’s swaying slightly with the movement, and you mewl when he slides two fingers down to your cunt. 

“I was going to cum,” you pant out. Connor narrows his eyes at you. 

“Liar.”

He slides his fingers into you and you cover your mouth, thighs trying to snap shut around his hand if it weren’t for him quickly slipping out again. 

“Hm,” Connor peels away from you and you’re left a bit confused until he’s maneuvering your body around like a puppet master. You find yourself on his lap and he’s gazing up at you as your underwear is looped around your left thigh. You looked like a desperate slut— your button up still sleeved on your arms, your badge swaying between your bodies as your underwear’s rolled down, while your boots are still on. 

But Connor? 

With his loose tie and tousled brown hair. Pants still intact, and despite the crumpled shirt; he looked much more composed.

He holds your police badge, and then pulls you down for a kiss. Your bare cunts on his lap and he spreads your ass apart causing you to lift up. 

“You need to relax,” he whispers to your skin. “I can assure you that there’s no one here, just us. No one can see us.”

”This…This is still illegal I think,” you laugh at it. Connor gives you a pointed look, groaning a bit as you giggle about it. 

“Must you remind me?” Connor nearly grumbles. You press another kiss to his cheek, then to the tail of his eyebrows. 

“My bad, Mr Goody Two Shoes— Ah! Fuh—Fuck!”

He’s slipped two fingers in again, and you barely give any resistance to it. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, glancing out the window to ensure no one else can this— see you. So exposed on his lap, dishevelled and shivering in pleasure.

He presses a hand to the small of your back and it forces you to arch it further. He pumps his digits in and out of you. A slow pace that has you bunching his shirt in your fists as you mewl on top of him. He curls his fingers and you moan out his name.

That lick of fire within him grows bigger. You’re sweating now, and he strokes up your spine to impede the race your droplets of sweat were in. Connor takes your nipple in his mouth and you brace a hand on the roof of your car. 

You tighten around him, hips jerking and brushing your dripping dick onto the front of his pants. Marking him with your slick. 

“You’re— You’re making me— I’m going to—“

Connor looks up at you through his lashes, his expression puppy-like and you cum around his fingers. 

He releases your nipple with a lewd ‘pwah’ and reluctantly snaps the string of saliva that connects him to you with a sweep of his tongue. You try to catch your breath, swaying slightly as the aftershocks of your orgasm lazily wash over you. 

You fall forward into him and Connor wraps his arms around you, smiling a bit as he feels your breathing slowing down until you’re limp across him. 

He darts his eyes to his fingers, spreading two of them apart and admiring the traces of you still there. Connor brings them to his lips and into his mouth. 

“nothing,” you repeat quietly, and you both know it’s a white lie, yet he still holds you, even dips his hand underwater to pull up your thigh against his.

“you don’t mean that.” callahan inches forward, meeting your lips as he grumbles, “you’ve never been genuine in your life.”

you taste the faint traces of an unnameable alcohol on his lips, darted out your tongue to wet his bottom lip, and he reciprocated by nipping at the corner of your lips. callahan’s hand sweeps over your back, sliding his fingers downwards. the water slows his movement enough that you don’t notice until he prods a finger at the muscle.

“water isn’t too great.” he mumbles under his breath, pushing against the resistance until your body lets him in.

he’s impatient, evidently so as he slips a second finger in, curling against tight walls to coax them looser. your small gasps wisp past his ears, and he feels himself twitch. he pulls his fingers out and replaces it with the tip of his cock, rubbing the head along the curve of your ass before nestling it against the hole.

“don’t try to move if you’re tired.” being considerate, maybe.

he pushes in with a bit of encouragement from his hips, sliding home as he fills you, tip pressing just below your prostate. you’re already groaning, breath hitching, walls fluttering and squeezing against his girth.

“you can handle yourself better,” he groans, pushing that little bit upwards until he hits that spongey part. you keen, head now fully planted on his shoulders and your fingers rake faint dents into the muscle. you muster out a curse, only for callahan to promptly shut you up by rolling his hips upwards.

water threatens to spill over even more now as he grinds slowly, pushing his tip against that sweet spot of yours. he grips the curve of your ass roughly, spreading you so he could fuck up a smidge easier. your dick rubs against his pelvis from the proximity, his dark hairs that trail from his navel downwards add a delicate friction to the underside of your cock.

“f—fuck,” you punch out, dick leaking against callahan’s happy trail.

you tilt your pelvis to grind into the coarse hairs while the detective chases that movement with his hips. callahan burrows himself as deep as he could, gripping your body and pushing you down against him as he spurts cum into you in stuttered pulses.

you whine against him, not like you could really fight back since he’s got an arm around your back and his hand grips your nape, effectively holding you down against him. the pressure of your body and his pressing down on your cock short-circuits your brain, and you’re suddenly leaking cum all over callahan stomach.

“no point in taking a bath now,” callahan exhaled through his nose, “‘right, gotta drain the tub and hop in the shower.”

he catches a glimpse of your face that expects more and more of him in the corner of his eye, and he pushes you away with a palm against your cheek.

He steps close, and you're growling already, staring at the man in white with furrowed brows. He doesn't care, scanning over your body while snapping white gloves against his wrists. "Are you going to bite, or can I take the muzzle off?" You like the implication of trust, mustering him carefully before offering a mumbled "Won't." thorough clenched teeth. It's the only full word you're willing to give him.

The muzzle is removed and you make an effort not to bare your teeth whenever his hands get close. He's quick, working the routine easily, gloves cold against your skin when he feels the lymph nodes in your neck, squeezes along your joints, and checks your reflexes. It takes everything in you not to accidentally snaps when he pulls your lip up to take a look at your teeth. He hums to himself, disappearing behind his desk again to type something into the system. "Take off your clothes, please."

The request is clinical and known, still you feel reluctant following it, exposed skin tingling, and tail involuntarily tucked between your naked legs. He returns to the examination table, that usual doctor-like calmness about your nakedness present in his gaze. "Show me your puppy-pose." Something about his indifference makes it easier to ignore shame for now, so you get on your hands and knees on the table, tail still between your legs. Zayne offers a treat, and even if you wanted to, held out right in front of your nose, it's impossible to decline, sweet on your tongue and soothing to the nerves.

Gloved fingers feel the curve of your spine, down to your tail, making you shiver involuntarily, ears flat against your head. But there's no growling, not any kind of fight at all except for your uncooperative tail when he lifts it, feeling for abnormalities and checking under it. "You're aroused." No shit. You feel the heat shoot into your face despite his indifferently monotone tone, but pretend not to care, simply straining your tail out of his hold and back between your legs, hiding the erection.

"Has your owner not been taking care of this?" The hairs on your nape stand at the suggestion that your owner is doing something wrong, and you can't help baring your teeth at him, even offering a small glare. It feels pathetic in the position you're in, and Dr. Zayne doesn't care, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a small plastic bottle along with some sort of tube. "Pups should be thoroughly milked frequently. I'll write out a note for that."

Your eyes follow him anxiously as he pours the contents of the bottle onto the plastic thing, nervous for what he's planning to do with it. "For now, I'll take care of you." Zayne reaches under you, the clear item in his hand. Upon nudging your tail out of the way, he slides the cold object onto your erect cock.

You gasp, involuntarily thrusting into it. It's soft, made of silicone and just short enough to engulf your shaft, the head of your dick reemerging the other side, getting wrapped again when Zane starts shallowly thrusting it. Coldly lubed and gloved fingers prob at your ass, tail lifting out of pure instinct to present your hole willingly to the doctor. He thrusts two digits, trusting you can take them.

The stretch makes you gasp, having to admit daddy hasn't been doing this kind of thing with you lately. You almost forgot how good it feels, quickly lost in the feeling now. Zayne's fingers press down, an expert about your anatomy, and it's truly addictive, thrusting back onto the penetration, and forward into the toy again. Your forearms collapse by the fifth stroke, tail wagging mindlessly as you take what he gives you.

"Sexual satisfaction is very important for young pups," Zayne starts explaining dryly but you're only half listening, tongue drawn out with shameless pants, drooling all over the sanitary towel underneath you, creating a second wet patch on it, along with the one your dripping cock is creating. "Neglecting the libidinous urges can result in restlessness, irritability, lack of appetite, and sometimes aggression."

You cum with a howl, body tense as you shoot your long-overdue load over the examination table, eyes crossed in bliss. Any kind of negative association you have with this place vanishes, replaced with utter satisfaction. "Let's do one more." You cry out when Zayne ruthlessly continues, an unknown torturous pleasure overtaking you. You want it to stop, yet can't bring yourself to actually do something about it, weirdly into how painful it is.

Dr. Zayne's efforts feel more enthusiastic somehow, fingers digging deeper, pressing harder, even squeezing the toy around you. Your second orgasm doesn't take long, ripping through you ten times harder than the first one, body so overworked your balance feels threatened. Your voice takes over a tone so high pitched, you barely recognize it, claws ripping the flimsy paper towel underneath when the high reaches its peak.

Your brain feels fuzzy afterwards, body buzzing and numb with tingles. Barely registered by you, Zayne discards of his soiled gloves, his eyes lingering on your form unprofessionally long, pretending they aren't. He returns to his desk idly, typing the doctor's note for your owner into the system, and logging the procedure. Meanwhile you're still on your knees, ass perked, still trying to catch your breath, freely leaking from every opening.

"I'll call the nurse to get you dressed," he announces while pushing himself off the chair and approaching you once more. Another treat is offered past your lips. "Please do return if the symptoms come back." Cold fingers ruffle your hair, subtly scratching behind your ears, and you don't have the mental capacity to process why his scent got sweeter when he turned to leave the room, but the bump in his pants gives you the needed context clue to decide you definitely will return one way or another.

Like most of the– you weren’t even sure what to call them. 

Monsters?

Creatures?

People, that were now destined to a fucked up fate?

You heard them before you saw them. Pyramid Head was the same. 

His footsteps were heavy as he came to stand in front of the closet you hid in. He loomed in front of the door, his presence calling all to him as they waited for his next move. The dim light from the flickering bulb cast a light that was blocked by his broad body, which strained your eyes as they watched his every move. 

Though you watched with wide eyes, your brain wasn’t fast enough to predict the lightning-fast movement of his bladeless hand as he reached through the door, tearing through it like it was a sheet of paper. You screamed in terror as his hand grabbed your shirt before he pulled you through the open hole.

You’ve observed him from afar, taking note of how human he looked compared to the others. Other than the nurses you had seen stumbling around Brookhaven Hospital, Pyramid Head looked to be relatively human. 

Like the nurses, what made him different from a regular human was what was on his head. Not wanting to get close enough to them, it had been difficult to tell what the nurses had on their faces. You hoped it was just a white bandage that they used to cover their faces, but after your last encounter with them, it more so looked like some sort of mask. 

With Pyramid Head, though, it had been easier to see the large metal helmet. It nearly made you gag when you first saw it and realized that the splotchy stains were crusted-over blood. 

Now up close to the creature, you could smell it. Even if you could see the blood stains, which were now darker and more pronounced up close, the helmet mainly just smelled of rusty metal. If this were to be the last scent to hint at your nose after being caught by the monster, it wasn’t so bad. 

The hand in your shirt moved with lightning quick to wrap around your neck, tossing you easily onto the grimy looking mattress in the room. You let out a scream as you sailed through the hair and landed with a pained noise, one of your hands moving to cradle your side. 

You coughed as you tried to suck in the air punched from your lungs, each inhale jostling your hurt ribs. 

Pyramid Head stood in place, his chest rising and falling at a normal pace, showing no strain after throwing your body. He moved once you looked up at him, like he was waiting, and your eyes were the cue.

He stalked up to the bed slowly, his sword dragging behind him. The light that came into the room was overtaken by his large, hulking figure. He was muscular, but in a way that exuded danger and power. Nothing like the men you had seen before being dragged here. 

You moved with each of his steps, pulling yourself up the bed, until your back met the wall with nowhere to go. For a moment, all you could hear was the rattle of Pyramid Head as he breathed underneath the mask. 

Your eyes don’t move from the creature, but they do roam over its figure. A dirty apron covered most of its body, littered with dark stains of various sizes. Faded in its grayish white color, it made you wonder just how long he’s been wandering the town.   

His skin tone almost matched the apron he wore, making it hard to distinguish where it ended, and where the monster underneath began. The only spots you could explicitly tell were at the start of his forearms, stained in an almost black color. The darkness led to a pair of white gloves, looking like the cleanest thing the man wore. 

You jumped when one of the hands loosened, letting the sword fall. It landed with a heavy noise, nearly sounding as if it were going to fall through the floorboards of the dilapidated apartment. Momentarily, your eyes looked at it on the ground, waiting for Pyramid Head to lift it up, but he instead let it sit on the ground beside the bed like a looming threat.  

This close, it looked more like a knife than a sword, which combined with his look, made him appear to be a grotesque version of a butcher. Maybe you were just the next cut of meat he was after. Destined to be another stain on his helmet, knife, and body. 

Your gaze is pulled off the weapon when Pyramid Head rips the apron off, leaving him in his gloves and boots. Wide-eyed, you turn away from his nearly naked form and bring your knees up to your chest, trying to make yourself appear as small as you can. 

Pyramid Head’s breathing grows heavier, filtered through his mask to make a raspy noise that scratches at your ears. You’re easily able to tell what he’s doing, his breathing growing louder each passing minute. 

Next, the sound grows slick. It’s wet like the sound you could remember from earlier when you found out this apartment had running water. It sours the memory in your brain, knowing now all you’re going to be able to think about is Pyramid Head, and not the momentary happiness you felt. 

You find the courage to look back over after Pyramid Head lets out a long groan. Thinking that he’s finally done, you bite your lip around a whimper when you see the largest cock your eyes have ever laid eyes on. 

You tried to move back against a solid wall, hoping it would just swallow you up, but it wouldn’t budge. Pyramid watches your struggle, seemingly waiting for you to tire yourself out. 

You pant from the efforts, but stopped once your body was full of dread, knowing that you had nowhere to go. You look up at Pyramid Head with a pleading look, hoping that he would be able to somehow read your mind and learn that you just wanted to be left alone. 

You screamed when he leaned down to grab you, yanking your body down the bed towards him. You turn your face up, ready with your mouth open to beg, but Pyramid Head stops you. 

Pyramid Head’s cock slid past your lips at a brutal force, stretching your lips wide around its girth. Digging your teeth into his cock only seems to make him harder, the cock throbbing along your tongue in retaliation. 

The familiar salty bitterness hits your tongue, making your cock twitch against your wishes. It wasn’t like you found the time to touch yourself while trying to keep yourself alive and escape. Sure, you could multitask, but survival currently felt much more important. 

You slam your eyes shut when Pyramid Head pushes his cock deeper, fighting to keep your tears at bay. They spill when his cock pushes against your gag reflex, barely touched by the fat head before it’s set off. 

You gasped when the monstrous cock was pulled free, your arms making a valiant effort of holding your body up. You looked up at the hulking man, noticing the way his chest seemed to sync with yours. 

“Please,” you said, hardly able to recognize the sound of your voice, “I can’t,” you whispered, flinching when one of the hands in front of you twitched. 

Pyramid Head stepped back before kneeling down, his knees hitting the floor with a great thud. At least he was aware of how large he was, making space for himself to not hit you with his helmet. You didn’t even want to imagine the amount of damage it alone would make. 

Raspy, metal breathing hits your ears, sounding in time with your own breaths. You don’t know if you've truly synced up, or if Pyramid Head is trying to imitate you, but it does little to calm you down. 

Gloved hands settle on your shoulders before pressing you down into the mattress. They move down your body and stop at your hips to repeat the motion. 

“I won’t move,” you whispered, a feeling of relief washing over you when his hands pulled away. 

Your eyes widened when a tentacle-like tendril slithered out from beneath Pyramid Head’s mask, your breath coming faster and faster as it inched closer. You turn your neck against it, mewling when it touches your skin. 

It touches your face first, slithering against your jawbone and leaving behind a thin liquid that quickly cools in the air of the dank bedroom. You close your eyes against the feeling, trying your hardest to not shiver as it moves down your chin. 

Almost as if on reflex, you gulp when it meets your Adam’s apple, the tendril tracing the movement. It’s warm, you come to realize, like this… thing is Pyramid Head’s tongue. 

Your body inched to move, to fight back, to do something against his tongue, but you were frozen in fear. You gasped when the tongue slithered down the collar of your shirt, leaving a trail past your collarbone until it finally stopped at your nipple. 

You jerked your head around to look at the metal helmet in front of you, pleasure curling in your gut as Pyramid Head’s tongue slid over your nipple. 

You gasped as it circled your nipple until it hardened into a wet bud, your cock throbbing in your pants from the stimulation. 

Pyramid Head matched with a noise of his own, sounding almost human in an odd way that comforted you. He wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking along the length to the same rhythm of his tongue. 

The creature groaned– a deep noise you swore you could feel in the air. Without thinking, you raised a shaking hand to his chest, feeling the vibrations against your palm as Pyramid Head let out another groan at the touch.  

You’re startled when two gloved hands move underneath your shirt, dragging the garment up as they move. They stop underneath your armpits, but when Pyramid Head tugs, you’re raising your arms automatically. 

You tell yourself it’s because you don’t want him to tear your clothing, but the way your cock throbs in your pants says otherwise. You let your hands fall back to your sides as Pyramid Head tosses the clothing away, his tongue hovering between you in the air, like he can’t decide where to go with all of the new skin on display. 

It decides on the other, dry nipple. It doesn’t have to work in the same way as with the other; the bud hardens almost seconds later. You moan softly at the feeling, your cock hardening in your pants as you watch Pyramid Head wrap a hand around his. 

A bead of precum leaks from the head onto the floor, your stomach swooping at the sudden thought of licking it up from the dirty floor. Your cock strains against the fabric, fully hard, envisioning the thought of Pyramid Head coming and shooting ropes of hot cum all over you. 

Your head falls back when a rough hand makes its way between your legs to grope at your hard cock. It’s nearly painful, but it has you moaning louder than you should, especially when you didn't know what other dangers could be lurking outside the door. 

The tongue against skin zipped up, making its way into your mouth before you could even think of pushing it away. Your eyes widen against the intrusion, the wet appendage mapping out the unknown plane that is your mouth. 

It swipes against the tip of your tongue, Pyramid Head’s hand moving to your neck to hold you in place. You respond weakly against it, a noise sounding as close as Pyramid Head could muster to a moan, leaving his helmet when you rub your tongue along his. 

Gloved hands move to your hips, tearing away at your pants and underwear, the complete opposite of how he treated getting your shirt off. It terrified you knowing that he was now eager to get his cock back inside you, but a small part of you now ached for it. 

You could taste it along your tongue when Pyramid Head’s tongue pulled free from your mouth, leaving that same ache that all you could do was swallow down. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, the need for it growing until it took you over completely and changed you. 

“What’re you doing to me?” You questioned as Pyramid Head pushed you down onto the mattress. 

He, of course, didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed your ankles and lifted them towards your chest. They settled around the back of your knees, giving a soft squeeze, just like earlier. 

Your breathing quickened, not knowing how your body would be able to take something so large. Though it seemed in the way Pyramid Head held you down, he wouldn’t be giving you a choice. 

You let out a sob at the first touch to your hole, your body relaxing upon realizing it’s Pyramid Head’s tongue. 

Like with your nipples, the tongue circles your hole. You can’t tell if he was trying to tease you or if he was simply getting a taste. All you’ve known of Pyramid Head was brute force, so you couldn’t imagine him trying to tease.

You moan when his tongue pushes inside. Thicker than two of Pyramid Head’s fingers, you expected it to hurt, but the wetness of it only sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. 

Your back arches from the bed when it hits your prostate, your cock dribbling precome against your stomach. The moans you let out only seem to encourage Pyramid Head, his tongue moving deeper and deeper. 

The tongue throbs like a cock inside you, and that’s when you feel that it’s pumping you full of something. You squirm against it, Pyramid Head’s hands tightening around your knees to keep you in place. 

His tongue is pulled free with a wet noise, sending a rush of heat through your body at the sound. Your body feels loose and pliant, a slick sensation dripping down your hole. 

Pyramid Head pulled you to the edge of the bed, right into his knees, the head of his cock resting on your hole. It slipped along your hole when he tried to thrust inside, but when he eventually got it, you nearly came. 

He gave you no time to adjust, but it wasn’t like you needed it. Pyramid Head’s cock went deeper than his tongue, pushing slick deeper with each thrust. 

You placed a hand on your stomach, right above where your cock lay neglected. Feeling Pyramid Head’s cock under your fingers, you came to the feeling. Waves of euphoria washed over you, knowing that Pyramid Head was carving out his spot within you, that you would never spend another second alone in Silent Hill. 

You pushed through your post-orgasm haze to press your hand to Pyramid Head’s chest. Underneath your fingers, you felt his heart beating wildly. Wet hot tears leaked from your eyes feeling the organ under his skin, the first feeling of another human you’ve experienced in what seemed like forever.

Pyramid Head comes with a loud, metallic grumble, deep from his chest. His cock pumps you with a copious amount of cum, the fullest you’ve felt in the longest time. The tongue from earlier lolled out, licking up your chest lazily.

A low grumble left Pyramid Head’s helmet, satisfied at the taste as his cock continued to throb. His hips twitched through the aftershocks when you felt it beginning to soften. 

A whimper fell from your lips when Pyramid Head’s cock slipped free, a gush of cum and slick following. The ache you had felt since you were put in this place was gone, replaced with a deep sense of satisfaction. 

Pyramid let out a hum before he stood up, gathering his discarded apron with him. He pulled it back on with a silent finesse, not at all matching his monstrous look. Next, he grabbed his knife before walking to the door. 

“Are you waiting for me?” You asked, using all your effort to sit up against the wall. 

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“You and Matsuda-San are friends?”

That was how everyone, no matter their age, would react when you brought up Matsuda Kota casually in conversation. You were quite the persona since middle school. Going against the dress code to fit your gyaruo style. Kota, however, was quiet.

Some labeled him an ‘emo’ but he just had long black hair and mostly wore black clothing. At least that’s what he would say. His hair was so long that his bangs regularly covered his face.

You wore black clothing too—but they were often paired with bold pieces. You wore black eyeliner to make your eyes pop. It was only in university when you were able to go full out in being a gyaruo—a male version of a gyaru. Though you were on the more simple side of the aesthetic.

The full makeup and outfit took so much effort that you only did it on rare occasions. Or whenever you were in the mood to sit in front of a mirror for over an hour.

Your parents were lacking in the usual strictness that older Japanese people were known for. So you basically wild out—a stark contract to Kota whose parents were so overly strict it was concerning.

That’s probably why he spent most of his time over at your house. The two of you met in middle school. By pure accident.

You were sent to your homeroom teacher’s office for being caught with eyeliner. After a stern talking to and being shoved outside of the room with some wet wipes—you were too busy wiping your eyes to notice Kota standing in front of you.

It was only in middle school that you were taller than him. You bumped right into him, causing him to crash to the ground. His bento box spilling all over the floor.

“Woah! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You kneeled down and carelessly began scooping up the food with your bare hands, dumping them into the bento box. “Five second—”

“I’m not eating that.” Kota rudely interrupted you.

You blinked, finally glancing up to look at him. He had an ugly bowl cut and thick rimmed glasses that looked too big for his face.

“Pfft—!”

Your lips clamped shut as you quickly covered your mouth. Eyes wide while Kota’s narrowed.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing. You look ridiculous too.”

Kota huffed. He roughly grabbed his bento box from your hand and walked away. You stood up and looked to your left, seeing your reflection in the window.

He was right.

The makeup was all smudge—giving you perfect raccoon eyes. A laugh left your lips. It was honestly a look. You rushed after Kota and wrapped your arm around his neck. He grunted and tried to push you off but you used your height to rest your chin on his head.

“Since we both look ridiculous, we should hang out!”

Kota groaned. “What are you—?”

“My name is Togami (Name). But you can call me (Name), no one calls me Togami.”

“We just met, why—”

“Because it’s sooo boring. My name is so much better than Togami. Don’t you agree?”

“Well—”

“Anyway, what’s your name?”

“Matsuda Kota, why—”

“Can I call you Kota?”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me??” Kota yelled out, stopping you both in your tracks. You stared down at him before grinning slyly.

“Sorry, Kota-kun~ keep talking, keep talking. I think I really like you!”

“I didn’t give you permission—”

“Lunch’s almost over! Hurry, we don’t want to be late for class!”

“I said stop interrupting me!”

The rest was history. Which led to where you are now. University. You were able to dress up more and didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble with teachers for a little bit of eyeliner.

You and Kota decided to rent an apartment together. With your parents' help mostly. They were retired and had a decent amount of savings. Kota paid for everything else that your parents didn’t cover. You were just there to decorate the apartment.

Kota really didn’t care about that type of stuff. His bedroom was bare. Really bare. It looked exactly how it looked before you both moved in. The decoration he had in there was from you. Though he rarely allowed you in his room.

The apartment was covered in a lot of furry furniture. Black, brown, and gold. Leopard print… it was a mess but also somehow worked for the chaotic vibe you were going for. Your bedroom was the only real mess.

In any case, you and Kota lived together fairly well. Despite everyone being shocked that the two of you were even friends. You were outgoing and nice–Kota was quiet and a little bit rude. Everyone called you by your first name… no one but you could call Kota by his first name.

It actually got you into hot water once with Kota.

“You can call me (Name), I don’t mind!” You proudly said, grinning at your clubmate. You and Kota joined the photography club to kill some time. The club was meeting at a restaurant as a way to get to know everyone.

Everyone said their introduction. Kota’s was as bland as ever while you were practically bursting with excitement. You were sitting beside some guy–you couldn’t remember his name–and was telling him that he didn’t have to be formal with you.

A loud clink of glass hitting the table startled everyone even with the bustling sounds of people excitedly chatting. Eyes were all on Kota. His beer glass had a small crack on the bottom, the yellow beer slowly seeping free all over the table. He calmly grabbed some napkins and dabbed at the liquid.

“Uh, waiter!” The club leader waved someone down and pointed to the pointed glass.

You only watched Kota, blinking as he seemed to not even react to anything. Not when the waiter carefully took away the glass. Not as a few other clubmates wiped away the mess. Not when a new beer glass was placed in front of Kota.

Kota only grabbed a skewer of meat from the shared plate in the center of the table. He took a small bite, his gaze not even flickering over to you. It took a minute before everyone began to talk like normally, as if nothing happened.

As soon as the club leader had mentioned that everyone should start heading home–you were roughly grabbed by the arm and tugged to stand up. Everyone watched in silence as Kota grabbed your coat and backpack without a word.

He draped your coat around your body, buttoning it without allowing you to properly put it on. Your arms were restricted but he didn’t seem to care. Kota nodded his head at everyone, wrapping an arm around your waist and guided you outside.

“Kota. Kota, I can’t move my arms,” you tried to push your arms through the sleeves but Kota kept pulling you forward. His hand tightening his grip on the curve of your hip. “Kota!”

He hummed. “Does everyone need to call you by your first name?” His words suddenly stop you in your tracks. It was only now that he actually stopped as well. You both were far from the restaurant by now.

“I let everyone do that.” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Where… is this coming from?”

Kota looked you in the eye. There looked to be something there… the need to say something. Something that could possibly change things. But he only shook his head.

“Forget it.” He removed his hand from your waist, finally allowing you to properly wear your coat. You follow behind him as you slip the coat into place. His words swirled around in your head but you didn’t say anything.

You still allowed people to call you by your first name. At least the people you had already allowed to but for some reason, anyone new had to call you by your last name.

Nothing was said. It just happened.

But you couldn’t forget the one time Kota had overheard you introducing yourself to a new member of the photography club.

“Hi, I’m Togami (Name). You can call me Togami or Toga!” You said, smiling wide as you excitedly shook their hand. Your gaze flickered to Kota who was standing right beside you and his expression was pure smug.

A small smirk tugged on his lips. Big enough that even another member noticed and asked Kota what he was thinking about to smile like that.

Kota only hummed. “Nothing.”

That was really the only time Kota had ever been mean towards you. Or at least angry. Afterwards he didn’t use any force on you again. Which really made you wonder what upset him that badly.

But you never brought it up again.

“If you want at least a B, you’ll need to get an 80% on the final exam, Togami-San.”

You groaned, rubbing at your face. Your grades in college were decent. Could be better but decent. Your parents were just happy you weren’t flunking. The fact you even went to college surprised them and your entire family.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care but you didn’t go above and beyond like others. You studied like twice a week. Each time before an exam you studied a bit and somehow that allowed you to continuously get Bs and A minuses.

Good enough. Some would kill for that.

However your studying method was proving to be useless for one class. The one class where you had your first ever D.

Organic chemistry.

Now why are you taking organic chemistry?

Well because you’re dumb.

Dumb enough to not realize that you signed up for the wrong class until it was too late and you had to continue taking it. You were a literature major! Why would you ever need organic chemistry?

“It’s okay, (Name)-Chan~” Hinata, your classmate, gave you a wide grin. “Maybe you should do tutoring.”

“Tutoring?” Another one of your classmates chirped in, Genki. He was a fellow gyaruo who put more effort into everyday makeup in comparison to you. A true legend. “What (Name) needs is a miracle.”

Hinata rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it worse. You’ll stress him out. I know someone who took organic chemistry as a freshman and actually passed with a 99%!”

“99%? Woah,” Genki’s mouth dropped while you perked up at her claim. “How—? That professor is strict. How'd that kid pass?”

“Don’t know but he was even the teacher assistant last year. He’s good, really good. But he doesn’t just tutor anyone.” Hinata turned her gaze over to you. “You might have to really beg for it.”

You frowned, “beg…? Ah, it can’t be helped. I’m not failing that final exam!” There was no way you’d let this class ruin your semi perfect record of As and Bs. “Where can I find him?”

“He’s an engineering major! My friend said he’s currently a teacher assistant for engineering 101, class should be ending right now. Go stop him before he leaves!”

The thought of having to beg some stranger to hopefully pass your class was a little stressful. Technically your whole life was up to this one dude.

And judging by how Hinata had described him—he wasn’t exactly the helping type.

He already reminded you of Kota.

Ah, Kota.

A giddy smile pulled on your lips at the thought of him. It’s already been three years of living with him and you had begun to realize you had a crush on him. Nothing serious at the moment but it certainly was something.

You found yourself doing more things for him. Making him lunch or dinner. He wasn’t a breakfast person so you never forced that. Two days ago you even bought him a leather jacket that reminded you of him. Though you still haven’t given it to him yet.

You’ve given him things before. Especially not an expensive leather jacket. It was around ¥291,500. Nothing cheap at all. But it was real leather with fluffy fur around the collar.

Perfect for winter that was right around the corner.

Thinking about Kota, you began wondering what you should make him for dinner. You stood outside the classroom door just as students began to walk out.

“(Name).”

“Kota?” You blinked, looking over to see Kota standing right beside you. Your head tilted as you blinked. “You’re taking this class as a junior?”

Kota fixed the strap of his bag as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m the teaching assistant.”

“Ah!”

Well looks like luck was on your side after all.

You grinned and rushed to his side, grasping his arm with your hands. “Kotaaaa~”

Kota only hummed and looked down at you. The height difference wasn’t by much. Your head was the perfect height to rest on his shoulders—which you constantly took advantage of.

“Can you tutor me? In organic chemistry? I heard you passed the class and I need to get an 80% on the final exam to even pass the class. Please, please, please—”

“Sure.” He interrupted you.

You blinked.

That was really easy.

Well, getting him to tutor you was easy but he wasn’t an easy tutor at all.

“If you can’t even memorize this then don’t even bother showing up to take the exam.”

“Kotaaaa.”

“Try again.”

It had only been a week and you were pooped. Kota didn’t let up. Each day after dinner, you’d spend almost two hours sitting at the dining table as he tutored you. No breaks, no days off.

And yes you were certainly learning and retaining information… but you were also tired.

“67%,” he said, placing the mock final exam he made you take on the table after grading it. Despite his rough tone—you knew he was semi happy about your progress in just one week. “I’ll test you again next week.”

You sighed. Better than nothing. You used to get 20-30% on the exams. This was an improvement.

Kota cleaned up the dining table while you placed your head on the table. You were only going to close your eyes for a second. But soon you found yourself in bed. Hands tugging up your shirt.

“Kota?” You groggily whined, placing your hand over his. His hand was larger than yours. He stopped what he was doing and leaned away a bit.

“You’re awake?” He asked. You felt his hand slipping away but you quickly tightened your grip. With sluggish movements, you tugged his hand up, making him gently cup your face.

He didn’t stop you nor did he say anything. If you weren’t struggling to even stay awake, you would’ve noticed his thumb gently rubbing circles on your cheek.

“I got something for you.” You whispered.

“Like what? Is it a thanks for tutoring you?”

You weakly shook your head. “No. It’s…” your voice trailed off, eyes struggling to stay open. “It’s just for you. Because I like you. It’s underneath my bed.”

“Don’t fall asleep.” He gently tapped your cheek. “You still have makeup on.”

“I like you… didn’t you hear me?”

“Mhm.” Was all he said in response.

The rest of that moment was a blur. You remembered feeling makeup remover wipes on your face. Kota grabbed the box from underneath your bed but he didn’t open it in front of you. Your eyes were basically closed by then.

He whispered something and then you were fast asleep.

Another two weeks passed. It was uneventful. Kota continued tutoring you and you made significant progress. Your little puppy crush was beginning to grow by the minute. Especially now that you two were spending most nights together.

You didn’t have to ask about the jacket because not even a day later you saw him wearing it. It made you so giddy that you almost laughed right in front of Kota. Luckily you managed to hold it in.

Despite organic chemistry being the worst class you’ve ever taken—you certainly had to thank it for allowing you the opportunity to be near Kota for such long hours.

However there was something you began to notice.

Kota didn’t allow you in his bedroom.

At first you didn’t notice because well it’s not like he comes into yours. You both were close but still wanted the bedrooms to be your own personal space. But now that you two were studying together for a long period of time… you and Kota would sometimes study in your bedroom.

It was a mess, obviously, but Kota didn’t seem to mind.

But it was like his room was off limits before you could ever ask.

Nothing was wrong with that per se… at least at first. Until you finally realize it when Kota always keeps his door locked. The door was always closed and even locked sometimes.

That’s strange, right?

Was he hiding something?

What would someone like Kota have to hide? He’s such a normal guy at the end of the day. You were the one that had more to hide but your day was basically left wide open at all times. Even when you were changing.

Like right now.

You slipped on your boxers, yawning. The thought of looking for some pajamas felt like a hassle. Your body was tired and even struggling to stand up straight.

“Where did I put it…” you whispered mostly to yourself, rubbing your shirtless chest. It was certainly a sight to behold. Your makeup was only semi cleaned off, your eyeliner was being stubborn and your lips were stained from left over lipstick. It’s kind of why you never wear lipstick that often.

It always stained your lips.

Just like your clothes, your pajamas were also heavily influenced by gyaruo clothing. You even dabbled a bit in more feminine pajamas. Simply only because male pajamas were boring half the time.

You knelt down and grabbed your silk shirt. It was plain black but felt nice to sleep in. “Pants… where’s my pants?” You spun around, now facing the doorway when you finally noticed that you weren’t alone.

Kota was watching.

He looked like he had just finished taking a shower. Hair still damped while the towel laid around his neck. An old beaten up white t-shirt and black sweatpants. His bangs covered his right eye entirely.

You gulped. Your own semi nudity was the last thing on your mind. Just the fact of seeing Kota in clothes that didn’t cover his body entirely. Nothing baggy that hid his muscles. You were allowed to see everything.

Almost everything.

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You didn’t even realize just how bad you were ogling him. Though it seemed to be mutual when you glanced up at his face.

Kota was staring at you. Really staring at you. His gaze flickering from your thighs to your chest. You still hadn’t slipped the shirt on yet.

Feeling yourself heat up from his strong gaze, you slipped the silk shirt on. That finally broke the spell as Kota quickly looked away. He began quickly drying his hair.

You finally found your pants, right near your dirty hamper. They were actually shorts. A matching pair to the shirt. You stepped into them and it was basically the same length as your tight boxers. These were one of your more feminine pajamas.

“Well,” you spoke, blinking slightly as you glanced over at Kota. “Uhh,” your lips pursed together. Hands wringing together. “Can I ask you something, Kota?”

He hummed. His eyes still focusing on anything but you.

“Can we… maybe study in your room one day?”

That caught his attention. His eyes snapping over to you. “Why?”

You froze. This was probably one of the first times Kota ever pushed back against a request of yours. Usually you could just say one word and he’d do it without hesitation. Not even asking why you want to do a certain thing.

It wasn’t always like that—that behavior didn’t start until high school.

“Oh well…” your voice trailed off. There was technically no reason. Or really any good reason. “Uhm, I just… want to change the environment.”

“We can study at the library.”

“Kota.” A pout on your lips. “I don’t wanna. I like being at home.”

“Then we can study on the balcony.”

That did sound nice.

You sighed. “Then… if I pass with an 89% can I celebrate in your bedroom?”

Kota raised an eyebrow. His face was neutral but you could tell he was getting agitated. The slight twitch in his upper lip, the way his grip tightened on the towel. “89%? That’s high.”

“Yeah, so if I do that good, then you have to grant my wish.”

“Why do you want to do that? Be in my room so badly?”

You were nosy, that was certainly the main reason.

But instead of saying that…

You said, “because I want to be in your scent.”

Which, in hindsight, was one of the stupidest things you had ever said.

I want to be in your scent? What did that even mean?

It was one of the strangest things you’ve ever said. And you were known for being weird to Kota.

Oh well—you couldn’t dwell on it too much because to your shock, you did it.

“How??” Hinata and Genki stared at the final exam paper in shock. There, written in bright red ink, was the percentage 90. You had done better than you had even thought was possible.

You simply smirked. “I managed to get that tutor you told me about.” Was all you said before heading straight home.

Kota was home, luckily enough. You had bought some take out and a case of beer. A smug smile on your lips as you walked over to where he was sitting on the couch.

He closed his book as soon as he saw you. His gaze solely focused on you. Your cheeks felt a little hot from his gaze but you straightened your posture. You placed the food and drinks on the center table.

“I took the exam.” You reached into your bag, excitedly pulling the exam paper out. The paper was folded as you handed it over to him. He took it, you excitedly sat down beside him and inched close, wanting to see his exact expression once he saw your score.

Kota opened the paper and despite the fact his face didn’t move an inch, you could tell he was proud. “Amazing.” He simply said, placing the paper on the center table. “How do you want to celebrate?”

You pursed your lips, eyes looking to where Kota’s bedroom was located. There was nothing else that needed to be said. Kota got the hint immediately.

Kota’s bedroom was the exact same as you remembered. The last time you had seen it in its full glory was maybe a month after you both moved in. To say it had no personality was an understatement.

It didn’t feel lived in if it weren’t for his studying material all over his desk. You plopped down on his bed as he sat at his desk, placing the items you brought on the surface. He glanced over at you with an unamused expression.

“This is all you wanted to see?”

You eagerly nodded your head. “Well yes.”

“You’re weird.” He opened a bottle of beer with a bottle opener. “Enjoy my scent.”

Your cheeks felt hot.

Kota’s room really was uneventful. He didn’t even have a tv. You stuck to watching something on your phone. About an hour or two passed when Kota excused himself to the bathroom.

You only huffed and moved to rest more comfortably on the bed when you felt something poke your back. It felt like a notebook. Underneath his pillow was a small little notebook—a diary was your first thought.

Now, did you originally plan to snoop around Kota’s room? No, you did not.

But now that you had the opportunity to possibly read his diary were you going to miss it?

No.

While you might be able to understand Kota’s expressions after spending so many years with him—it was too tempting to be able to read about his thoughts.

𓂃 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗎𝗉 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐’𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖨 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆

What?

𓂃 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗃𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗆𝖾? 𝖧𝖾’𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻

Who was he talking about? Jealousy bubbled deep within you. Who was lucky enough to be the object of Kota’s affection? It wasn’t like he talked to many people that weren’t you.

𓂃 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖨’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆—𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗀𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀

“What are you doing?”

You gasped as the diary was roughly ripped from your hands. It was there you came face to face with an overly pissed Kota. A first. The last time you ever saw Kota this angry, his face actually showing the full emotion, was back in middle school.

Your stomach began to twist into knots. The idea of angering Kota this much hadn’t even crushed your mind. Sure you were pushy sometimes but you never wanted to ever make him feel this way.

It was silent. Your mind raced a mile a minute. But nothing left your lips.

Kota let out a humorless laugh. Another first. He stared down at you. “Are you weirded out?”

“Huh?” A soft gasp left your lips. Your eyes flickering up to stare at him. He towered over you. You sat on your knees on the bed.

He waved the diary. “You read what was in this.” His voice sharp. “You’re weirded out, right? You want me to leave don’t you?”

“Why—? Why would I want that?” You quickly moved to stand up but Kota grabbed your shoulder and shoved you back down. It should’ve upset you that he put his hands on you but you felt your cock twitch in your pants.

“Stop acting dumb.” He carelessly tossed the diary behind him. His eyes never left you. The intensity in his eyes scared you but also made you incredibly horny. Who knew he could act like this? “You read it, you saw what I wanted to do. Degrade, feminize, and dumbify—you saw it, didn’t you? Don’t spare my feelings.”

You quickly shook your head. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn't judge what you… do in your free time.”

Kota froze. He raised an eyebrow before leaning further down. You leaned back until your back bumped into the wall, effectively caging you in.

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. You clamped your legs together. Why was this actually doing something for you?

“How did you get that 90% on the exam?” He finally spoke.

“Huh?”

“You. I want to degrade you.” His hands pressed on either side of the wall, gaze harsh. “I want to make you pretty, only to ruin you for anyone else. Who else would I ever want to see naked beneath me?”

“…huh…? Kota…?”

Kota sighed. “I’ll move out as soon as possible.” Was all he said as he began to pull away.

“Wait—!” You grabbed his shirt and tugged him back towards you. The force causing him to accidentally bump his nose against yours. “Ow,” a whine left your lips but you quickly pushed through the pain. “Why… why are you going to leave me?”

“Did you not understand a word that I said?” Kota responded, his tone exasperated.

“I did. I did and I don’t mind. I like you! Didn’t you know that? I told you…”

Kota tilted his head. His gaze focused solely on you. “You always tell me that you like me. Was I supposed to believe that one time was different?”

You frowned. “Well I did mean it differently. I meant that I like like you.”

“You like like me?”

“Mhm.”

Kota laughed. You were seeing a whole new side to him. “Do you like me enough to let me do whatever I want to you?” He asked, his voice deep. There were simple words but somehow they felt heavy in your chest. It didn’t feel like it was a simple easy thing to agree to.

He seemed mad but not that mad that you thought he would’ve been. It felt different. A scary different. But not scary enough that you didn’t nod your head in agreement to his words.

“I need to hear a yes.” He said.

“…Yes.” You whispered. “I really like you.”

For the first time ever, Kota’s lips pulled into a wide smirk.

Your cock twitched at the sight.

You would’ve never expected that Kota would be the kinky type. Honestly you ever really expected that he’d be into sex… or anyone really. He didn’t seem like the type. It’s why you didn’t expect anything to happen from your feelings.

But here you were, hands tied together above your head with Kota’s belt. Undressed—your boxers being the only clothes you were allowed left.

Kota didn’t say anything at first. He had silently tied your wrists together, manhandling you to rest on the bed. His hands gripped your skin. It felt harsh and rough but it didn’t scare you.

“Kota…” You whispered.

He was silently taking in your body. His hand slowly tracing up and down. As his hand reached your inner thigh—you let out a gasp. Your legs clamped together as your cheeks heat up and feel hot to the touch.

“Kota… are you mad?”

“No,” he answered. His hand squeezed your thigh before he reached his other hand and grasped your other leg. He easily parted your legs open, it happened so fast you didn’t even register it until your legs touched the bed.

Kota sighed. His gaze flickered up to look you in the eye. “I’m not going to do everything I ever wanted.” He said. That somehow disappointed you. “I don’t want to rush this… not now.”

“Rush?”

“(Name),” he whispered your name as if he was worshipping you like a God. So soft and tender though his eyes held a certain hunger that made your stomach clench. “I’ve always wanted you to cry on my cock—letting your makeup mess up your face.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. “Is that why whenever you saw me with my makeup a mess, you’d get quiet?”

Kota didn’t respond. He moved to sit between your legs. “When we moved in together, I thought I’d have to deal with you bringing in random people to have sex… or maybe even get a boyfriend. How lucky am I that you aren’t able to date anyone?”

“Hey, I was single on purpose!”

“Sure.”

You frowned but before you could say anything else Kota pushed your legs forward. A strained grunt left your lips. The stretch was a little unnatural—not a position you’ve ever done before.

“Since it’s our first time, I’ll be nice. Okay?”

“You’re a virgin?” You muttered, blinking slightly.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ah,” you quickly looked away, biting your bottom lip. “Not… exactly.”

It was silent.

Too silent.

“Kota…?”

The sound of fabric tearing caused you to cry out in shock. You looked over to see Kota focused solely on your legs. Your boxers were torn open, the cool air teasing your hole. Embarrassment shot through your body when you realized Kota would have a perfect view of a certain something in your ass.

Finally, your little secret was revealed.

“(Name)…” Kota chuckled, his voice deep. His index finger circled around your sensitive rim. Your body shook from the touch. “Is this a butt plug?”

So, it wasn’t as if you expected sex today. You had just wanted to be a little… adventurous today. After your exam you had actually come home first before going back out to buy the food and beer. Just for fun.

It was a small plug. Only stretched you a little bit to where you could feel it if you shifted just right. But other than that it didn’t feel like anything was inside you.

Really the only thing you expected tonight was using your dildo late at night as you imagined Kota fucking you instead. Luck was really on your side today.

“Did you wear this all day? Even when you took your exam?” Kota grasped the edge of the plug, slowly tugging it out. You gasped—tugging at the restraints around your wrists. “Did you masturbate like a pervert, hoping no one would notice you rocking in the chair, trying to focus on the exam while making sure the plug hit your prostate?”

With a simple shift, the tip of the plug pressed directly on your prostate. A loud moan left your throat. You wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That he was making stuff up. Degrading you.

But the continuous, slow rub against your prostate took over your thoughts. All you could focus on was gasping and moaning in response. Nothing else could escape your lips. Your cock twitched. It was still covered inside your tight boxers.

“Kota,” you mewled.

“Such a slut. Is that why you’re so flashy?” He asked, pressing down on your prostate. “You want everyone’s attention on you. Not just your looks but also from your sex appeal? So perverted, Togami (Name).”

You sniffled. Your wrists tried to break free from the belt but somehow it was wrapped tightly. You could only bring your hands down to try and cover your face from Kota’s intense stare.

“Am I not enough?” Kota moved up, his body now towering over you. His free hand grasped your wrists and tugged your arms to rest above your head once more. “Do you need everyone else’s attention? I’m not enough for you?”

You quickly shook your head. The words escaped you—only broken wet moans leaving your parted lips.

“Fine.” An almost pained laugh left Kota. “They can look…” he leaned down, his breath teasing your face. “But you’ll always be mine. Only I can see you, touch you, and ruin you, do you understand?”

Kota pulled back when you didn’t respond. His glare sharp as he roughly pulled the butt plug out. He tossed it behind himself. “Answer me with words.”

“Mhm, ngh,” you nodded your head. It was hard to speak, your throat was already dry. You haven’t even been fucked yet and you already felt tired. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

You let out a shuddered moan. Your legs wrapping around Kota’s waist. It felt so sinful for you to be practically nude while Kota was still dressed. He was wearing a black sweater and black pants—his usual winter clothing.

“You’re perfect for me, (Name)… I don’t even need to prepare you.” Kota unbuttoned his pants. His gaze focused solely on you. “I won’t be nice. I’m going to fuck you and if you manage to cum, good. If not…” his voice trailed off.

The thought that he wasn’t even going to try and make sure you would come too. To just use you for his own pleasure… made your whole body shiver.

Shit, you were really learning new things about yourself.

Kota was never known for being particularly nice. Sure he did nice things for you but that never meant he wasn’t a little rude to you still. Even if you were his favorite person. He had no issue degrading you. And it was shocking to yourself that you didn’t mind it at all.

He didn’t fuck you nice and slow. He didn’t slowly ease inside you or anything like that. Your hole was still dripping from the lube and allowed for a semi easy entrance. Though his cock was bigger than your small butt plug.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The stretch felt otherworldly. Kota grasped your face, pushing your head down into the pillow as he began thrusting in an easy rhythm.

The slap of skin filled the room. Your gasps and moans came out in rough staccato. Toes curling as you bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“K-Kota…” you cried out.

Kota pushed your head further into the pillow as his thrusts began to pick up speed. He was unforgiving—obviously chasing his own orgasm. True to his words he didn’t aim for your prostate nor did he touch your cock.

He was fucking you got his own pleasure.

“Mhm?” He grunted out. His thumb brushing against your lips, pushing them apart. “Does it feel good? Are you enjoying yourself?”

Each thrust sent a shock throughout your body. The sound of skin slapping, bed creaking from each thrust into your tight heat. It was sending you into a frenzy. You could’ve sworn that he was purposely avoiding your prostate. Just barely teasing it to cause a shiver in your body before ignoring it once more.

It was degrading. He was treating you like a toy.

You smiled slightly, eyes glancing up at Kota. He was a sight to behold. His eyes almost fully covered from his long bangs. He was sweating but still hadn’t made the effort to take off his sweater.

The jeans rubbed against your ass, chafing the skin. You’d certainly cry about it later but now it only served to make you moan. Every little thing he did that only served to please himself and not you… made your toes curl.

“Hey,” Kota cut in. “I asked if you’re enjoying it?” His voice deep and held an air of dominance.

A strained laugh left you, punched out in tandem with a particularly harsh thrust that almost sent you hitting the headboard. Your bottom lip was cut. A little bit of blood coated both lips and some on your teeth.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Your eyes struggled to stay open, fingers curling to grip the pillow beneath you for a sense of purchase. “Love it so much.” An almost exasperated laugh left you.

Kota’s thrusts slowed down. His grip on your face almost loosened. He certainly didn’t expect such an answer from you. The willingness to accept his behavior as if it was a normal thing. A thing that you readily craved and enjoyed.

A perverted smirk pulled on his lips.

It was one of the widest smirks you’ve ever seen from him. With his eyes practically hidden behind his bangs—his smirk was the only thing you could use as a way to see what he was thinking. With that smile alone you knew he was happy.

Proud even.

This… was exactly what he wanted.

And how lucky was he that you wanted it just like him.

The last of his thrusts were almost cruel. He positioned his hips so his cock would tease your prostate. Barely a touch that was enough to even count as anything. You almost cried at the teasing—it was too much.

Your cock was weeping in your boxers. But you didn’t beg for Kota to start pleasuring you as well. No you enjoyed how he was fucking you. This was too fun. Better than anything you could’ve originally imagined.

Kota released his grip on your face, both hands reaching to grab your waist. He held your body still against the bed. Keeping you still as he delivered his last, harsh, heavy hitting thrusts into your ass. Each thrust earning a loud accompanying cry from you.

Hot wet cum released inside you. The fact that he didn’t even ask if he could only made you shivered in delight. A weak gasp left you. Kota spanked your ass as he pulled out. The cum slowly seeping out of your hole.

“You look beautiful like this.” Kota hummed, “next time I want to see you in full makeup when I fuck you.” He said. He grabbed your boxers, tugging them off when he stopped.

A soft humorless laugh left him.

“You actually came?”

Two fingers touched the lower half of your stomach. White cum leaking from your cock. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You didn’t expect that this would lead you to cumming in your boxers.

But here you were.

“Of course a slut like you would come untouched.” Kota leaned over you, gently freeing your wrists from the belt. He captured your lips into a hungry kiss—not allowing you to take any sense of control.

You didn’t fight it.

You enjoyed it all.