himitsudesu: (WK - Unsee It)
[personal profile] himitsudesu
Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Warnings: It's a creepy 14-year-old being creepy. Sort of like canon, only with less hospital beds.

Inspired by this get up. Just because.


He stands silently outside the door to her room, listening to the steady roar of the water from the shower. He pictures the scene, one he's seen far too often: water pouring from the tap, thick wet hair clinging to creamy skin that shimmers with a thin layer of soap. She'll be running her hands through her hair now, alternating between slowly lathering herself and sipping from one of her many ever-present beer cans.

He shifts uncomfortably, tugging at the increasingly too tight material of his pants, and edges closer to the door. It isn't a strange thing to find Katsuragi Misato attractive. He knows his classmates envy him the dubious honour of having her as his guardian. With her smooth skin, well rounded hips and large breasts he isn't at all surprised that she catches the eye of every red-blooded male in the school when she shows up in her form fitting uniform to pick him up on the way to NERV. Shinji has even on occasion found Misato creeping into his own fantasies late at night, despite how off-putting he finds her rudeness and disrespect.

He shifts again, looking around surruptitiously at the room around him. Asuka is away with friends, Pen-Pen is wherever it is the penguin disappears to and Misato... Misato is naked in the shower. He couldn't ask for a better opportunity.

Carefully he slides the thin door open, wary of any squeaks and creaks that might betray his presence. He creeps silently into the room and pauses just outside of the bathroom. He leans forward, peering through the crack into the bathroom, barely daring to breath as he squints to make out the sight before him. The image is exactly as he imagined, down to the lazy swirls of one soapy hand over her tight stomach and the white knuckled grip she holds on her beer. He watches as she raises the can to her lips and lets loose a rather impressive burp, before giggling and splashing at the water. Satisfied with what he sees, he turns his back on the bathroom and moves further into the room.

His heart is pounding in his ears as he finally lays eyes on what he is searching for. Lying crumpled and forgotten in a pile where she left it is the black micro dress which is her habitual uniform at work. His fingers trace across the soft material of the dress, rubbing it lightly between his fingers. As he lifts it reverently from the floor it catches the light, shimmering as it moves like a slightly less functional civilian version of the plug suit. He holds the dress to his face, rubs his cheek against it like a cat. He remembers how it had looked today in the car, clinging too tightly to her body, and riding up just the tiniest bit on her thighs to reveal a glimpse of pale lace beneath. He bites his lip to hold back a groan, and lays the item gently back on the floor.

Next is the jacket, which is hanging halfway off of the back of a chair where it was thrown. His hand is beginning to shake as he picks the red half-jacket up and holds it close to himself. His fingertips ghost lightly over the gold shield on the sleeve, the orange bands on each shoulder that clash so terribly with the colour of the jacket itself. He holds the jacket close to his face and breathes deeply. It smells like beer and sweat and Kaji's cologne, but buried beneath that is a scent like dust and tears and electricity, the fragrance of NERV. It is a scent that is uniquely Misato, and as Shinji holds the jacket to his face and breathes the fragrance he can see her standing over him, surrounded by computer consoles, shouting commands that everyone within ear shot scrambles to obey.

He shudders and licks his lips, his breath coming in quick bursts. He feels himself straining against the thin material of his pants, and he winces at the pressure. He slowly lowers the zipper and releases himself. With one hand wrapped firmly around his cock, he clutches the uniform jacket to himself. He imagines he can still feel some of her warmth, clinging to the synthetic materials. He squeezes and twists his hand, his sweaty palms easing his way. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, gnawing gently as he jacks himself to keep from crying out. He is teetering on the edge, painfully close now, and he can't fight the breathy moan as he clutches the jacket against his face and comes into his hand.


A/N: I may have taken some liberties with the outfit. Manga and anime are visual art forms, Yoshiyuki Sadamoto never felt like being over descriptive with his clothing.

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Sore wa himitsu desu!

December 2013

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