#HI this got long so i will be posting it to ao3
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Icing | Bob x Reader x Rhett
Word Count: 5,300
Cross Posted on AO3
Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, improper use of icing, food is mentioned several times, blow jobs, grinding, hand jobs, overstimulation, planning for a wedding 💐 it's porn with a very vague plot
Brief Summary: This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd.
"Are you sure this is how we're supposed to do it?"
"What makes you ask that?" Bobby chirps, barely audible over the hum of the hand mixer. His eyes flick down to the cake pan held between your hands. "Seems perfectly fine to me."
The beater bumps into the edge of the bowl. Icing splatters across the countertop.
You think that might be the whisper of a swear, crossing the room.
"I don't know, it just...feels weird," but you're pulling open the door to the oven, anyhow. A plume of heat washes across your face, like the blaze of a campfire, threatening to roast you alive.
But fortunately, the only thing being baked is this tiny pan of cake batter. Locked away to its doom of inhumane temperatures until it rises to perfection.
"Honey, there are only so many ways you can bake a cake," Bob's entirely unaware of the blue icing staining his cheek as he reaches for a damp cloth. Now that you give it a squint, you reckon it might be up in his hair, too.
"Well, last I checked," reaching out to swipe at his face with your thumb, raising it to your lips. Different color. Same taste as before. "Most folks don't have to bake their own wedding cake samples."
His head turns back to the thin list of instructions, scanning over where he left off, and—oh, well, he's got blue in his hair, too.
"Hey, get a load of this," Rhett's voice echoes from the living room, socked feet thumping across the hardwood. "They're sellin' that ol' rodeo property in town."
You're not entirely sure what woke him; if it was the clatter of skillets as you clumsily withdrew them from the oven, or if it was the bickering over why Bobby continues to use the appliance as a storage unit. It had to have been something you two did; fifteen minutes is astronomically short for a Rhett nap.
Maybe he never went to sleep to begin with because he's got a newspaper in hand. Today's date sits proudly in the corner, next to his thumb; he must have picked it up from the gas station on his drive home.
"We should buy it," waggling the paper in his hand, like it'll somehow convince you and Bobby to scrounge up ninety-five grand for an arena that has been abandoned for the better half of two decades.
"Sure thing, sweetheart," Bob's mixer kicks back on, an obnoxious noise sounding through the kitchen. Surely, there have to be quieter models out there. "We'll put an offer in next week."
"Ha. Ha," Rhett's eyes roll, the newspaper falling onto the recently cleared counter, right where Bobby was saving space for the blue icing. "Funny."
His mouth opens like he's got more to say, but nothing slips past those thin lips. Soft blue eyes flicker across the counter, scanning across your rainbow assortment of icings, the sample baggies of sprinkles and candles, and the portfolio of decorative figures. Not one of the premade couples comes with a third partner, but you're not entirely sure if you want to go that route to begin with.
Rhett's nose wrinkles; lost. You've got nothing more than a shrug to offer.
"All I'm sayin' is," picking back up on the hanging conversation, he reaches out to poke his finger into an open dish of sprinkles. The ones made to look like pearls. There were more, but half got lost when you accidentally ripped the package open. "You'll have a lotta time on your hands when ya leave the Navy."
The mixer shuts off.
"Who said I was leaving the Navy?"
Rhett's lifting a pearl to his mouth, obnoxious tongue poking out to catch it. "You, last night."
"And the night before that." You add, with a nudge of your shoulder.
And the night before that one. Sometime five mornings ago. Again, last week. After the most recent deployment and the one before that. Before the engagement and way before the house was bought...actually, when has he not talked about this?
The pearl cracks so loud that you almost wonder if it chipped Rhett's tooth. His brows furrow, shifting the hunk of sugar around in his mouth. "The hell are you two doin'...?"
"We're baking our wedding cake samples," and even with Bob saying it so matter of factly, it doesn't sound right. Nothing about this picture is correct.
Rhett's head tilts to the side. Even the dark hair cascading into his face can't hide those questioning eyes.
"See?" Throwing your hand out as if Bobby hasn't noticed the puppy-dog of a man standing on the other side of the island. "Even he's confused by this."
Nobody bakes their own wedding cake samples. This is your sign to find a better bakery! Before the stakes grow even higher!
Careful, Bob pulls the mixer from the bowl, turning around to drop the beaters into the sink. "He's always confused."
"Hey!" Rhett squawks. "Ya jus' gonna say that 'n turn your back to me?"
Not a word leaves Bob's mouth, deliberately keeping his back to you and Rhett as if to drive home his unspoken point. He's doing his best to remain firm, but even so, you can see the way the corner of his lip rises with every passing second. Must be able to hear the way Rhett's rounding the corner, big hands reaching out to grab hold of bony hips.
It's a little too easy for him to force Bob to turn.
"What, can't say it to my face?" Any venom in Rhett's tone is lost in the midst of his chuckle. Amused.
Still, Bobby remains quiet, defiantly folding his arms across his chest, like that will somehow stop the smile from bursting onto his pale face. It's a losing game. Rhett knows it. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it.
Rhett's tilting his head, leaning close. "Say." Kiss. "It." Kiss. Bob's hand reaches out toward the counter. "To." Kiss. "My." Kiss. His finger dips into blue icing. "Face." Kiss. "Pal." Kiss.
One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip, smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.
Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.
...huh.
"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too.
You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?"
"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here."
Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made.
"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls.
"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow?
Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?
Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?
Idle, Rhett's hand dips into some of the icing. Slow. Flying just below the radar of Bobby's peripheral. "So why'd ya make every color?"
And your poor WSO hasn't the slightest damn clue, reaching for yet another container of sprinkles. "To see what—"
Rhett's big hand presses into Bob's pale cheek, vibrant orange icing splattering against his skin. Dragging down, down, down his neck and onto the little bit of chest peeking out from the low collar of his shirt.
You know what's going to happen before it even starts. Bobby's fingers dive into a pool of pale yellow. Smacking it into Rhett's broad chest, gets the base of his neck and all. And Rhett's reaching for the pink, dragging it across an unwitting forearm. Bob's going for green. Reaching for Rhett's scruffy jaw. Giggles bubble through the air.
Blue splatters across the kitchen floor and across your shirt.
Your white shirt. "Hey!"
"He started it!" Bob squeaks. But he's stumbling backward, bumping into you as he reaches for another bowl—ammunition for the next attack.
All Rhett can do is grin. "Did I?"
Insufferable.
Your hand darts out from your side, venturing to the counter.
Purple splatters across Bobby's clothed belly. The only spot you could reach.
"Both of you?" Bobby's squawking. Twisting. Turning until he's got his back to the sink and not you or Rhett, his vibrantly colored hands held toward the ceiling. Surrender, or preparing his next move? You're not sure yet.
God, he's a mess. Splatters of orange, pink, blue, and plain white, stretching from his nose to his belly; you think there might be a little bit of purple lurking beneath his chin. Rhett's not doing much better, green clinging to his jaw, chest decorated with a vibrant smear of yellow.
"What else are we s'pposed t' do with all this icin'?" He asks, lifting his fingers to his lips, short pink tongue darting out to lap up the sweetness clinging to his skin.
Bob's eyes roll. You wonder if he's noticed the drop of green on his lens. "Well, wearing it shouldn't even make the list!" But it's nothing compared to the icing on his neck, sickly sweet and spread thin over the thick vein that bulges from beneath his skin.
"I can think of a few ideas," muttering, entranced.
Out of his peripheral, Rhett meets your eye. The corner of his lip twitches up, fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' so loud that it echoes through the kitchen.
"What..." Bob swallows. Adam's apple rising and falling. Soft blues flicker between you and Rhett; must be able to read the thoughts filtering through your head. "Would that entail, exactly?"
You don't know who steps forward first. But one way or another, your sticky hands are finding their way to Bobby's chest, bracing yourself as you lean in. Rhett's so close that his hair tickles your cheek; he had a longer distance to cross than you did, and yet he's already beating you to the point. Licking a fat, wet stripe up the side of Bob's neck.
And you're in hot pursuit. Licking up the other side, trailing across that thick vein, multicolored icing greeting your taste buds. But that sugary sweetness is nearly dulled in comparison to the soft mewl that rolls out of Bobby's mouth, his head rolling backward.
"Okay..." he breathes, "that's..."
The flavor of this icing is far from your favorite; it isn't even close to the one you had in mind when contacting the bakery, but you can hardly pay it any attention. Nothing but a mild annoyance when you've got this to preoccupy your mind with. Bob's hand, working its way up your side. Rhett's soft hum, downright delighted with this predicament.
Careful, your lips press to a soft patch of skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly. Not enough to bruise his terribly sensitive skin, but still managing to leave behind a faint redness in your wake. One tiny little mark after another, spots blending amongst the vivid orange that you've yet to lick up.
This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. Him and his sticky, heaving chest, squirming as you work lower, lower, lower. Teeth grazing across his collar, tugging on the flesh stretched thin over the bone there.
Rhett's shoulder knocks into your side, a little too broad to be squeezing himself in next to you. His hands venture to the hem of Bob's horribly stained t-shirt, yanking upward.
"The cake," Bob's panted protest is hardly one at all, "you can't...it'll burn." And yet he's obediently lifting his arms, letting Rhett pull the shirt over his head. Maybe letting it fall to the floor isn't the best idea, but you're in no position to raise even the slightest objection.
"We have time," you murmur. Lie. You don't even know if you set the timer.
Frankly, you don't care. It's just too damn easy to forget about. Letting your mouth find its way down Bob's pale chest, a thin trail of saliva marking your path as if you could possibly become lost in this familiar terrain.
But even though you've had a head start, Rhett still manages to beat you to the checkpoint, his lips wrapping around a delicate nipple. So sudden that Bob jerks beneath you, his feet stumbling. Two can play this game, though, and Rhett can only pay attention to one thing at a time.
Without the slightest warning, you sink down. Knees thunking heavily against the cold kitchen tile. They'll ache when you ultimately climb back to your feet, but that's for the future version of you to worry about. Right now, your bold hand is soothing over the heavy bulge in these sweats, feeling how Bobby twitches from the simplest touch.
"Can't believe you're already hard, Robby," teasing, your thumb swipes right beneath his tip. The wet spot forming in the thin gray material is like a reward.
"You're..." his head rolls, fingers tugging at Rhett's hair, "surprised?"
Not in the slightest.
It's Rhett who reaches for the thick elastic of Bob's waistband. Watching through thick lashes as you help pull it downso swiftly that his cock brushes your cheek as it springs up to smack against his belly. Flushed a bright ruby, a small bead of precum running down the underside of him.
"Shit," Rhett swears; it's so quiet that you can hear the way his knees creak as he settles down next to you.
And now both of you are down here, caught up in some kind of perfect synchrony, leaning forward to run your tongues up the sides of Bob's cock. Relishing in that shuddered gasp as you and Rhett meet at his head, lips brushing in what was meant to be a sloppy kiss, but it's more of a clash of tongues than anything. Broken apart by Bob's soft cock head, caught perfectly in the middle.
"You...." Bob's hand bumps into your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there, "fuck, you two are..."
Rhett's chuckle is all it takes to have Bob's sharp hips bucking forward, pushing himself right past your parted lips. Wasn't exactly next up on your itinerary, but you're rolling with it as if it was. Sucking gently, tongue swiping back and forth beneath it. Teasing while you still can.
Not a single beat is missed. With the delicate hollow of your cheeks and the lazy way Rhett mouths at the side of him, it's almost hard to believe that this wasn't choreographed earlier in the day. As if anyone could have predicted that Bob was serious about this whole 'baking cake samples' thing.
"Y' likin' that, Bobby?" Rhett hums, pausing to graze his teeth against delicate skin. "Watchin' both of us on our knees for ya?"
You're leaning back, and Rhett's moving in to take over for you. Doesn't need to use his hands, as he sucks that leaking tip into his mouth.
Bob sucks in a breath. His other hand dives into Rhett's hair, tangling in the mess of it. "How could I—mhm, not?"
All of a sudden, Rhett's sliding further down, eyes scrunching shut as Bob knocks into the back of his throat, but that's never been enough to deter him. It's a wonder he's got a gag reflex at all. You can't help but twist yourself around, a hand coming to rest on his lower back, bracing yourself as you find your way to the underside of his jaw. Air audibly puffs through his nose. Always has been sensitive here.
Sweet, too, with all of this icing to be licked up. There simply isn't another person cut out for this sort of job. The artificial flavor is far from your favorite, but you can't be inclined to share. Not when he tries to lean into it, a muffled grunt rumbling out of him.
Above you, Bob can't close his mouth. "That's...oh, that's—"
A shrill beep tears through the air. Once. Twice. Thrice.
So you did set the timer. Lucky him.
And Rhett laughs. Barely able to pull away before he chokes, swollen lips glistening as they meld with the shape of his smile. "Guess ya gotta check that, flyboy."
This is the first and likely the last time you'll see Bob Floyd check an oven with his sweats pooling around his thighs, heavy cock bouncing as he leans down to see what he's doing. Is the cake done? Or burnt? You haven't the slightest clue because Rhett's kissing at the side of your neck, and any self-control you had left dissolves in an instant.
"Shame y' didn't get more of this on ya," he's speaking into your skin, vibrating right up into your head and rattling all your thoughts off their metaphorical shelves.
The stain on your brand-new shirt is speaking otherwise. "This stuff doesn't even taste that great."
"'s good when it's on one of you," he does, unfortunately, make a really good point. The kind that lets him get away with pushing your pants down your legs, underwear and all, right here in the damn kitchen. So much for trying to break the habit of kitchen shenanigans.
You wonder if this memory will wander back into your mind the next time you invite guests over and eat in this kitchen.
Rhett's hands settle on the sides of your waist, pulling you into him as he leans backward. Knocking the back of his head against the tile can't feel good, but he doesn't react in the slightest. Too busy pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his wide hips. They hitch upward, so strong that they push you along with it, as he shoves his shorts down his legs, cock audibly smacking against his belly, swiping against your thigh as it drifts past.
"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Your hands brace against his chest, chasing the illusion of stability.
"Mhm," is the best he's got to offer, and he's hardly got to guide you any further. You're already beating him to the punch, grinding down against his length, letting him slip between your parted lips.
Fuck, it's been a while since you last felt his weeping cock head drag against your clit. You wonder if he can feel the way you involuntarily clench around nothing, sent into a mindless spasm from that alone.
Bobby's knees audibly knock against the floor, and you're not entirely sure where his sweats went. "You two move too damn fast."
"Maybe you're just slow," there's nothing but playfulness in your tone, albeit the slightest bit breathless. You can't help it. Not when you've got this going on between your legs. Rhett and his big cock rolling up into you, chasing the feeling of your pussy against him. Beads of precum slicken the glide, every motion punctuated by a sickly wet little noise.
"'n ya say I'm the one always givin' ya trouble," Rhett's not doing much to help his own case, but then again, you don't think that was his goal.
It's an awkward angle, with Bob sitting on his knees and Rhett laying against the floor, but he's craning his head up, tongue greeting the underside of Bob's cock. A fleeting sort of thing that only lasts a moment or three.
"You're gonna upset your shoulder if you keep doing that," Bobby hums, not making any move to stop Rhett from trying at it again, lips stubbornly wrapping around his mushroom tip.
There's a spin in your head that wasn't there before. Lightheaded over the sight before you and the sweet throb of your cunt, sliding against Rhett's shaft like you're aiming to win a first-place trophy. Hands flat against his heaving chest, trembling arms hardly keeping your body upright as your hips roll.
"Can feel ya gettin' wetter round me," Rhett's eyelashes are fluttering, and it's all he can do to keep himself from knocking his skull against the tile again. "Fuck."
"As if you're not dripping like a damn faucet," your words hitching on a gasp, the embers of a whine building in the back of your throat. Getting off to this wasn't on your list of plans, but with every soft massage of his plush tip, you're growing closer to writing it at the very top.
Rhett's back arches off the ground, legs kicking beneath you, like he can feel the heat that's flooding your lower belly. Makes it so damn hard for you to keep moving your body back and forth, hopelessly grinding back and forth, obsessed with the way he kisses your clit on every pass.
"God, you two should see yourselves," Bobby says it like he's caught up in a trance; you don't think you've seen him blink since he knelt down here.
"Enjoying the show?" Speaking through a gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your eyes are rolling backward, and Rhett's twitching against you, and it's so, so much.
His hands settle on your aching thighs. Blunt nails digging into the meat of them. Does nothing to ward off the shiver that's settled into the muscle there. But his hips are rising up off the floor, and he's rutting himself into you properly now, rubbing against your poor clit over and over and over.
"Rhett—" whimpering high in your throat. Head tilting back. You're...he's...
"C'mon," in that raspy tone of his, wavering with the motion of his body, "cum on my cock."
Bob's cool hand glides up the side of your neck, and that is it.
A choked noise echoes through the kitchen and into the living room. Spasming, cumming to the drag of him against your clit alone. Clenching helplessly around nothing but air, a ripple running up your spine. Your arms crumple out from under you. Stars sparkle behind your eyelids like the night sky. Falling into a messy heap on Rhett's chest, helpless as his cock keeps rubbing against your dripping cunt.
"Ah—Rhett!" Jolting. Oversensitive. And it's all you can do to slide off of him, letting gravity drag you down to his side instead, a leg lazily sprawled overtop his thigh. You don't know if he's laughing or if you're hearing the hammer of your heart beating away in your ears.
"Awful quick," Bob's eyes flick to you, hardly able to conceal the playful glint in them.
You ought to give him trouble for such a comment, but your head is still spinning like it's about to float up into the clouds. The best you can do is to swipe out with your hand, smacking against his belly. "Like you're any better."
Rhett's chest rumbles with a chuckle. You're not entirely sure when he got his arm around you, but it's carefully squeezing you into him. Keeping you snug against his chest as Bobby moves to settle between his legs.
And this...this is a hell of an angle to be observing from. You don't have to move your eyes or tilt your head at all, comfortably gazing at the sight of Rhett's plush thighs caging Bob's waist. On its own, your hand darts out, grabbing a handful of one. There's so much more to squeeze compared to when you first met; he's exchanged that wiry frame for something thicker, stronger, too.
Bob's reaching for his own cock, still wet with saliva, as he leans forward, fingers darting out to wrap around Rhett, too.
One stroke and Rhett's hips lift off the floor. "Shit."
He's so damn wet, with what mess you've made of him and the precum spilling out of his inflamed tip like a dripping faucet. Bob's thumb swipes out, collecting the clear fluid and spreading it onto himself, but before he's done there's already another bead of it forming.
"Good lord, Rhett," Bob mutters, and you're not entirely sure where he got that packet of lube from, tearing it open with his teeth, already beginning to pour the sticky substance onto their cocks.
So much for trying to break Rhett of that habit.
If he'd give Rhett a few minutes, you think he'd spill out enough to warrant forgoing lube altogether, but Bobby can only stretch his patience so far. Never has been able to hold out for very long when it comes to you and Rhett. That big hand of his gives an experimental stroke, a wet squelch sounding through the delicate air; you don't know who groans louder.
What you do know is that the sight before you is downright obscene. Rhett's legs squeezing around Bobby like he'll disappear if he doesn't, their heavy cocks twitching into one another. How Rhett's tip has a darker shade of red as compared to Bob's pale pink. They look so similar until they're right next to each other like this; it's the only way to tell that Bob's a fraction longer but not quite as thick as Rhett is.
Bob jerks forward, pressing impossibly closer. "Does that feel good?" As if he's not speaking around his own strangled breath.
You have to lift your head to get a better look at Rhett's face. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth worrying his thin bottom lip, cheeks flushed with a newfound redness. "Uhuh." His head shakes with what you think is a nod.
Maybe that's an answer Bob was looking for, but you want to hear more. "Use your words, cowboy."
"It feels—" Swallowing hard. A microscopic mewl breaks past his lips. "Feels good!"
He's already dissolving into a mess of squirms, wriggling back and forth, the swift stroke of Bob's hand too much for him to handle. Bucking upward, only to try and draw away, unshaven jaw shivering like a leaf in the wind.
Your fingers drift upward, nails dragging across the soft meet of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his balls as you drift past. Lightly rolling them in your palm would draw the prettiest sounds out of him, but today, you've got a slightly different plan in mind. Fingertips wander into the soft expanse of skin behind them, rubbing in loose circles.
A pitchy cry rings in your ears. Rhett's hand flies up. Tugging at his own hair. Desperate to grab hold of something. "Fuck! 'm gonna..." His head thrashes, pretty neck barred to the world. "I'm, I'm—"
"You fixin' to cum for us, sweet thing?" Bobby's voice sounds akin to thunder, a little twang in his tone. His thumb darts out, rapidly swiping back and forth across Rhett's plush cock head.
Curls bounce with Rhett's nod. Hardly able to close his mouth and stifle his moan. Yet, it's so loud that you can hear it anyway. Your fingers keep spiraling, pressing the slightest bit harder. You're almost certain that you can feel the sporadic twitch of muscle as his back arches, cumming with a wail.
A rope of white paints across his belly. The next one caught by Bobby's still moving hand. Disappearing into the squelching mix of lube and precum and your own juices, some kind of lewd recipe for disaster. Rhett's hips jerk. Yanks a grunt out of him.
But Bobby's not stopping. Still pumping their cocks together as if nothing ever happened. If anything, you think he's going faster, and it's got Rhett jumping around like a wounded animal. Mouth wide open. Brows knit together.
"Too much, too much, that's not—ah!" He squeals. Panting hard. Frantically pawing at Bob's hand, but it's doing nothing to end his torment.
"Hang on for me," Bob's eyes scrunch shut. Hissing through his teeth. Close. "You can do it."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't, that—haah!" Rhett's twitching. Wailing. Legs kicking in the air.Still smacking at Bob's rapidly jerking fist as if that can possibly save him, but he's not uttering a single note of his safe word. Merely dissolving into a frenzied babble of, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!"
That's all it takes for Bob's pale blue eyes to roll into the back of his head with a soft, deepened groan. Set off by the babbled cry of a helpless cowboy, trembling like a leaf beneath him. Rope after rope of cum, splattering against Rhett's lower belly and all over his softening cock. A visible shiver rakes its way up Bob's spine, and for a moment you think his glasses are about to fall off.
Finally, finally, the motion of that big hand is beginning to slow, loosening until Rhett's length slips from his grip entirely, smacking against his skin. Between the wateriness of Rhett's eyes and the redness in Bob's cheeks, you're not entirely sure where to look. Each are tempting in their own right, but not enough time to focus on both.
You suppose your distraction is why it takes a moment to realize that Bob's actually moving. Leaning down at a snail's pace, his lips pressing to your forehead, lingering for a moment or three before moving on to Rhett's, pressing a kiss to him, too. "Maybe we should call a different bakery," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze flickering to you.
If this is all it took, then next time, you'll skip the arguing and jump right into kissing down his neck. "You think?" There's a hoarseness to your voice that wasn't there before; you blame the icing.
Whether or not he caught the sarcasm in your tone, you have no idea.
"Yeah..." Bobby pauses as Rhett leans in to steal a proper kiss on the lips. "Now we've gotta do something with all these ingredients."
Rhett hums. Sounds akin to a cat purring. "I have a few ideas." You wonder if those ideas include smearing each other with icing again or offhandedly snacking on sprinkles for the next several months.
"I'll hear you out on those ideas," yawning, a strangled little noise escaping you, "when we're in bed."
A valid request, but Bobby's wrinkling his nose at it. "How about a bath, then bed."
"Y' act like we were just rollin' in mud," Rhett's fingers tap at your shoulder, gently squeezing.
"I love you two, but I draw the line at sticky sheets." Well, if Bob wants you to take a bath so damn bad, then he's gonna have to help you find the strength to get off this floor. Your hand reaches out, opening and closing in a grabbing motion.
It takes a couple seconds of looking at it for him to realize what you're asking, but after a moment, he slips his hand into yours, holding it as he rises to his feet. Something in your knee audibly pops as he pulls you up, an ache blooming in the bone from digging into the floor earlier. Your feet stumble, knocking into Rhett and nearly taking him back down with you.
"You're a mess, sweetheart," Bob laughs, pulling on your hand as if you're still due to fall at any moment. You're not entirely sure when you acquired the purple icing on your thigh or the smear of green running down your leg; you refuse to acknowledge the array of colors on the floor until after you've had a nap.
"So are you," not an ounce of venom in your tone, despite the attempt at mustering some kind of sarcastic bite. Behind you, Rhett hums his agreement. Someone started this, and it certainly was not you or Rhett.
"No, I'm not," Bob's beaming, almost proud of himself. "You two licked me clean, remember?"
It'll take the rest of the day for him to notice the icing on his glasses.
#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#rhett abbott#bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott#hawtho#hawthorn au#oneshot#tw food
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Barred Protection Chapter Five
This one is short, I am sick of writing in this chapter and just want to get to the next part so I'm saving us all a several months long writers block and posting it "unfinished" instead. It's also unedited. This chapter is the definition of Started Making It, Had a Breakdown, Bon Appetite. Hope it's enjoyable anyway.
No tw besides medical settings.
Ao3
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Tim didn’t like being used as a prop to get Bruce into Ameliorate, he didn’t like being poked and prodded for over an hour by Percy Daelus while Bruce sweet talked the man, and he most definitely didn’t like the results from the analysis that he had just finished on the medication he’d been prescribed.
Most of the contents made sense but there was one chemical that wasn’t like anything in their system. And they had a lot of chemicals in their system.
“Tim?” He flipped around to see Duke trotting to him. “We got the stuff you asked for.”
Tim took the bag he offered with a short nod before turning back to the table and riffling through it. When he realized there was an unknown ingredient, he asked Duke and Damian to get him different medicines and cure-alls from the company, any they could get their hands on. If this strange chemical was in one of them, it very well could have been in more.
He tried to ignore Duke hovering as he prepared the machine for another round. Damian had taken perch on a chair to the side. “Tt, are you certain there is an unknown-?”
“Yes.” Tim snapped. “I tested it six times.”
“Maybe the machine is wrong?” Duke sounded hesitant to suggest it. Tim stopped what he was doing to turn to him with an unimpressed, flat expression. “Or…you know, maybe not.”
---
Daelus listened carefully to the child’s heart, struggling to hear it past the labored breathing. Thankfully it seemed healthy. When he pulled away and slid the stethoscope back around his neck the young boy’s mother was watching him closely.
He offered her a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, the cold is minor. It’s nothing we can’t handle for sure.” The relief that washed over her face was more rewarding than anything else in the world. “I’ll have the nurse prepare your first dose, and then you can pick up the rest of the medication at the front pharmacy, alright?”
“Thank you.” The mother slumped back in her chair. He understood why she would be so scared for her baby. Not even a year old and the poor thing was sick as a dog.
He left the room as quietly as possible while flagging down his current nurse. Once she had been filled in Daelus made his way to his personal office.
Normally on clinic days he would spend the whole ten or so hours seeing as many patients as possible but today was a special case; he had another meeting with Bruce Wayne. After meeting Tim (who was remarkably healthy for missing a spleen, if quite sleep deprived) Mr. Wayne seemed much more comfortable with Daelus.
That in and of itself was a massive relief. With one of the world’s favorite billionaires on its side, Amiliorite could finally start stage three of operations. Moving global would be hard without support from a well-liked celebrity, and Daelus much preferred when things ran smoothly.
There wasn’t much time to clean up before one of his front desk workers opened the door. Daelus went to greet Bruce with a smile. One that didn’t get returned.
“I have concerns.”
Daelus furrowed his brows. “Is there an issue with Tim’s medicine? I was certain we’d prescribed-“
Bruce, normally jovial and frankly ditzy, was looking far more serious than Daelus was familiar with. “I had my scientists look at your medications. There’s something in them that they can’t identify.”
In giving Bruce permission to test the medications Daelus knew there was a chance that subject P’s tears could be isolated. He simply hadn’t thought it would happen. Inwardly he cursed himself for not expecting the Wayne Enterprises scientists to be able to figure it out.
“Oh that,” Daelus tried another smile. “That’s nothing to worry about. My people did rigorous testing to ensure-“
“What is it?”
“What is the substance?” Daelus asked.
“Yes.” Bruce said, tone sharp and cold.
“Ah, well we refer to it as Healosol.” He pronounced the word like ‘heal us all’, slow and deliberate, hoping the name would ease some of Bruce’s worries. “My scientists synthesized it themselves. It took years to develop and years more to test. We’ve ensured that it is entirely safe for human consumption. Not just safe, actually, but wholly beneficial!”
Unfortunately Bruce didn’t seem quite as comforted as Daelus had hoped. His coldness was replaced with a thoughtful edge that made him more than a little nervous. If Bruce vocally opposed the company, it would be disastrous.
It had taken most of his adult life to get the company up off the ground and especially in Gotham the process was nowhere near easy.
Dealus had forgone personal relationships to further Ameliorate. His physical health would be tanked if it weren’t for the medicines that he made for his own use. He slept in one of his offices practically every night, barely entering his own apartment. Everything he had was thrown into making it work. If it didn’t work-
Anxiety tangled through his ribcage. They had helped so many people in Gotham and the neighboring cities already but he didn’t want to stop there. How many people in the world were sick, dying, wallowing?
They could save so much more. Subject P was producing enough to help entire countries! But no one would want their aid if one of the most influential men in the world scorned their product.
Before he could calm the storm of frantic thoughts Dealus blurted out, “What if I gave you a tour of the synthesizing facility?”
His heart jack knifed but he couldn’t take the words back. That facility was where Subject P was held! If the tour went in the wrong area-
“I would like that. Would I be able to speak with your scientists?” Bruce’s demeanor had softened significantly, even with the tension still in his shoulders.
Mr. Wayne was known to take in young children in dire situations. With subject P’s chosen form he would pull at anyone’s hearts who didn’t understand what was happening.
“Of course! I’ll have them prepare material for you to look over. So long as it doesn’t get spread everywhere, of course. I trust you not to steal our company secrets.” The last sentence sounded more hesitant. Daelus nearly flinched. It was supposed to have sounded like a jest.
Bruce finally smiled again. “Of course not. But if what I see is good, I hope a partnership might be on the table?”
A partnership? With Wayne Enterprises?! All of Dealus’s anxieties washed away. With THE Wayne Enterprises on their side they could take the world by storm, faster than just having Bruce endorse the product himself.
“That would be fantastic, Mr. Wayne! Shall we have the tour this Saturday? I can arrange transportation for you.”
After getting all the details hashed out, Daelus led Bruce back to the front desk. A warm goodbye later and he was back in his office making a call.
“Sir?”
“Carter, we need to make preparations. Mr. Wayne will be touring Facility Zero on Saturday.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, sir?”
“Of course I am.” Daelus grabbed a pen from his cup and started clicking it open and closed. “Think about the doors this will open!”
“But if he finds the subject this whole thing is going to get shut down.”
Daelus knew he should feel concerned about that, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to worry when the chance of a lifetime was sitting right in his lap. “He won’t find it, and you are going to help make sure of that.”
A tired sigh came through the speaker. “Yes sir. What do you need me to do?”
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Fanfic inspider by @thisbelongsto-nohbodys 's future owlphibia au. Please excuse the fact that I have no idea how Ao3 works, so it's all posted here.
CW: Somewhat-more-than-canon-level violence, blood, minor swearing, and blatant shipping.
Armoured Knightmare
It wasn't supposed to go like this.
When Azura Noceda had met up with her frenemy, Lily Boonchuy, she hadn't expected their day to end up here. It was just supposed to be a normal hang out. But Lily had seemed especially down that day, so Azura figured a short adventure on the Isles would help cheer the blonde girl up.
It hadn't been long into their journey that Azura had noticed a structure she hadn't seen before. It looked old. Really old in fact. It was some sort of stone structure, looking almost like the entrance to an ancient tomb. Azura, of course, wanted to leave well enough alone. Who knew what sorts of traps were down there to kill potential grave robbers? But Lily marched towards it all the same.
“Lily, you're being stupid.” Azura said plainly as she jogged to catch up to her friend. “We have no idea what's down there.” Cotton, her tiny white bat palisman, squeaked in agreement from on top of Azura's head. Lily just gave Azura a look over her shoulder before continuing on.
“Listen, we came out here to adventure, right? What better adventure than an ancient, unopened tomb in a magical world?” Lily drew her sword and jammed the blade in between the two stone doors, and began to push on the sword, using it as an impromptu pry bar.
“The stuff above ground is dangerous enough.” Azura stated. Now that they were closer, she could make out faint carvings on the door. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say, but she could make out some sort of orb with tendrils stretching out, an armoured figure, and a group of witches and demons tearing the armoured figure apart. While she tried to figure out the carvings that were faded more than the others, she was startled by a loud scraping sound.
Lily smiled as she managed to open one of the doors enough to get a hold with her hand. Grabbing hold with both hands, she pulled, grunting in effort as she moved the large stone door. “Listen,” she said once it was open enough for her to slip inside, “I'm going down there. You can follow me, or you can stay up here. Doesn't matter to me either way.”
Before Azura could respond, she saw Lily slip inside the crack. Sighing, she started following after the blonde. “Why are you acting like this?” She muttered, more to herself than to Lily. If the other girl heard her, she didn't respond. All Azura knew was that Lily and her younger brother, Percy, got into some sort of argument, and Percy had said something about how Lily would never be like her moms. From what Azura knew of the younger kid, he had to have been pretty pissed off to say something that mean to his sister. And Azura partially understood why Lily felt the way she did. Her mom saved the Isles from Belos when she was younger than Azura was now, and Lily's moms had done the same for that other world, Amphibia. Both of them were daughters of legends, who had a lot to live up to. But sometimes, it seemed to Azura that Lily was either going to be a hero or die trying.
As the pair trudged deeper and deeper into the tomb, Azura drew a small circle in the air, casting a basic light spell and holding the floating orb in the air above her open palm. All around were mossy stone tiles and carvings covered in various vegetation. The carvings were practically gone, destroyed by the ravages of time. Whatever story - or warning - these carvings told was unable to be gleamed. However, Azura frowned at something else she noticed.
“There's no bodies or coffins.” The witchling noted aloud. Lily simply shrugged.
“So?” The human girl asked.
“A tomb of this size should have at least a few. Or even offerings to the dead or something. But it's just the stonework so far.”
“Well, maybe it's all just further in.”
“Bodies, maybe. But offerings are left near the entrance, so that visitors don't disturb the dead.” Azura pointed out. “And we've gotten far enough in anyways that there really should be bodies.”
Lily sighed. “Well, maybe it's not a tomb then. So, there's just something else to discover down here.”
“That's what worries me.” The witchling sighed and pet Cotton, who was letting out small, nervous squeaks.
The two continued deeper and deeper, the carvings soon giving way to smooth walls. And then, the hallway opened up to a massive stone room, easily a cube 50 feet in all directions. Azura jumped and Lily raised her sword as, when they passed the threshold from the hall to the room, light spells activated all around the room, illuminating it. The entire room was empty, save for some sort of stone throne with a rusted suit of armour slumped in the seat.
Lily sighed and looked around. “All this, for one suit of armour? Seems overkill.” Lily took a step forward, but Azura grabbed her arm tightly. In the witchlings hand, she held a miniature harp, one of her signature instruments for her bard magic.
“Lily, we should go. We can find something else to do. Maybe we can hike up the knee, fight a Slitherbeast or two. But we should leave this alone and tell someone else about it.” Azura's voice was filled with nervousness.
Lily grit her teeth and pulled her arm out of Azura's grip. “What, think I can't handle a dumb suit of armour?”
“Lily, that's not what I-”
“And even if it is magical and animates, it's not like I don't know how to fight!”
“I know that! I'm just saying-”
“What, that you think I don't have what it takes?!” Lily got right up to Azura, gripping her sword tight, knuckles turning white.
“I'm saying I don't want you to get hurt because you're too angry to think straight, you idiot!” Azura snapped. She panted heavily as she and Lily stared each other down. Lily glared hard at Azura.
“Screw. You.” Lily said, and marched towards the armour.
“Lily, wait!” Azura followed after her.
“If you're not going to help, just leave!” Lily yelled back at Azura without looking back.
Azura felt a growing sense of dread as they approached the armour. Something was very wrong, but she couldn't tell what.
Lily got right in front of the armour, staring down at it.
“Happy? It's just a normal set of abandoned armour. Now, please, can we just-” Azura yelled in surprise as Lily swung her sword with a scream, knocking the helmet clean off and sending it clattering to the floor. Azura watched Lily for a moment, the human girl panting heavily. It was only after a moment that Azura realized Lily wasn't panting, but starting to cry. Wordlessly, Azura pulled Lily into a hug. After about a minute, Lily finally spoke.
“I'm sorry.” Lily quietly said. “You're right. This was stupid. I just… What Percy said.”
“I know. I understand. Believe me. I really do. But if you need to blow off steam, there are much better places than old, creepy tombs.”
Lily chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” Lily sighed and stepped out of the hug, Azura letting her. She wiped away the last of her tears and sighed. “How about lunch instead?”
“Sure. But you're paying.” Azura said with a playful smirk, earning an equally playful chuckle and punch to the arm from her friend.
“I don't have any snails, dumbass.” Lily let a small smile creep onto her face.
The two of them began to walk out of the room, but the bright mood was quickly broken, both girls freezing in place as the sound of metal scraping along stone behind them. Slowly, and wide-eyed, they turned around. Behind them, the armour was slowly getting up from it's throne, it's joints creaking with untold years of built up rust. From where it had landed on the floor, the helmet was floating up and over to the body. With a dull, hollow clank, it landed back where Lily had knocked it from. The armour rolled it's non-existent neck, pulling a sword from behind the throne and staring down the two young adventurers with empty, hateful eyes.
“Lily?”
“Run?”
“Run!”
The two spun around and started sprinting towards the hallway they had come from. Behind them, they heard the animated armour rapidly approaching. Azura spun around and strummed her harp, creating a magic shockwave that she hoped would cause the armour to stumble. When nothing happened, Azura whistled for Cotton, who transformed into its staff form, Azura hopping on.
“Hop on!” Azura yelled at Lily, holding her hand out to Lily. Lily reached out and grabbed hold.
And then the sword came down on her back.
And Azura saw a spray of red come from the wound.
It wasn't supposed to go like this.
Azura pulled Lily up quickly, holding the now limp girl close. She sped off on Cotton, the armour chasing after them, though with the speed boost from riding her palisman, Azura quickly outpaced it. She blasted through the open door, skidding to a halt and placing Lily down gently on the ground before running over and pushing as hard as she could to close it, Cotton even flapping over to help her. She could still hear the armour rushing towards them, which only spurred Azura on more. Just as she thought she was going to be trampled by the running armour, she slammed the stone door shut, the armour slamming into it from the other side, but seemingly unable to push it open from its side. Deciding that would have to do for now, Azura picked Lily up and rushed her to the only place she could think of.
Lily was breathing shallow, and looked up at Azura. “Z-Zura. I… I need to tell you something…”
“You can tell me later, okay?” Azura said, wishing now more than ever she didn't inherent her mama's weak nerd arms.
“No. No, please. Let me tell you. Please.” Lily's voice was weak, each word a struggle.
Azura had tears in her eyes, her attempts to speak failing and just slowly nodding.
“I… I like you ‘Zura. I know… I know I denied it, but… I… I like you.” Lily admitted, her eyes slowly closing.
“Hey. Hey, you keep your eyes open, okay? Lily? Lily?!” Azura shook the girl as she passed out in Azura's arms. Seeing where she was heading, she burst through the door, nearly out of breath. “AUNT VINEY! I NEED HELP!”
What happened next was a blur. She breathlessly explained vaguely what happened to Viney, who took Lily away. Emira contacted Amity and Luz, who in turn contacted Anne, Sasha and Marcy. When everyone arrived, Amity and Luz checked on Azura, while Anne, Sasha and Marcy waited with Percy and Maddy, Lily's younger sister and the youngest sibling, waited for Viney to finish up with Lily. All Azura could pick up was when her Aunt Viney said Lily's wound healed without a scar. After what felt like an eternity, Anne walked up to Azura, getting down to eye level.
Azura looked at Anne with teary eyes. “I-I'm so sorry. I… I… I'm sorry.”
Anne softly smiled and put a comforting hand over Azura's. “Hey. Don't be. Lily told us what happened. You saved her, Azura. Thank you. So much.” Anne softly pulled Azura into a short hug. “Now, Lily says she wants to talk to you about something.”
Azura nodded, getting up and walking past the rest of Lily's family. Sasha looked over at Azura as the witchling passed by and mouthed a silent “Thank you,” before going back to keeping their youngest daughter occupied.
Azura entered the room where Lily was lying in a bed. Already, the human girl looked much better. Azura took a seat beside Lily.
“So… um… your mom said you wanted to talk to me?” Azura shifted awkwardly in her seat, unsure if Lily remembered what she had said on the way here. Lily nodded.
“First off, thanks. And… And you were right. We definitely shouldn't have gone down there.”
Azura sighed softly. “While you're right, I probably should have done something more to stop you. But what's important is that you're okay now.” She smiled softly.
Lily nodded. A small blush formed on her cheeks. “And… um… I meant what I said. On our way here.”
It was Azura's turn to blush, her face going as red as a tomato. “O-Oh. Um. O-Of course. I… I just wasn't sure if you remembered.” Azura shifted awkwardly again. “Um…” Azura sighed, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked Lily in the eyes. “I… I think I like you too, Lily.”
Lily's blush grew even brighter. “So… what does that mean for us?”
Azura took a deep breath. “I… I think this means… We take it slow. One date at a time. And see where we go from there.” Azura took Lily's hand with a smile. Lily smiled back.
“I think I can deal with that.”
From the doorway, Percy laughed. “Called it!” He received a pillow to the face from his sister for his troubles.
~Fin~
#the owl house#amphibia#azura noceda#lily boonchuy#anne boonchuy#sasha waybright#marcy wu#sashannarcy#luz noceda#amity blight#lumity#toh viney#emira blight#vinera#lizura#thisbelongsto-nohbodys
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W I P W E D N E S D A Y S
Hello one and all and welcome to my wip wednesday post.
I've been jumping back and forth between a few wips but the one I am sharing below has been calling to me more than the others recently.
(gif credit to @bearlytolerant)
I saw a character authority post the other day and it inspired me to make sure the word was out for Delgado lovers. I have my own Delgado Masterpost that will have more added to it soon.
tagging for wip wed and adding fic recs:
the grandfather of Delgado content:
@spookyspecterino ao3
Check out the fic that inspired Fleeting Pleasures and my unending obsession for the Pirate King: New You
also 100% suggested Pieces of Me, Locked Away
the muse of Delgado content:
@bearlytolerant ao3
Not only does she take the best screenshots but she has an amazing series called Split Skin. Not only does it has delicious Delgado content but that was where my favorite OC of hers Valentine Blanche was born.
Even more Delgado enjoyers/writers:
@staticpallour - ao3
Renegade Hearts (on hiatus but worth the read):
Starborn choosing a different path with Delgado
(she also writes incredible OCxHadrian fic)
@toxiclizardwrites - ao3
Love and Rage :
Based on the UC SYSDEF quest with a bit of drama
(lots of del content on their Ao3)
@atonalginger - ao3
The Ranger and the Deputy :
Delgado in an AU, "dirty cop" vibes
(if long format is for you, they got it)
“Fuck you.” She hissed as she faced him, she noticed how he was leaning in to steal her lips. For her amusement she slipped from him with the smoothness of a cat and continued into the open doorway. She heard him curse under his breath at her impulsiveness before she was 3 steps ahead. His irritation fueled her in a special way. There was something about it that was addictive. Ghoul steps were soft and barely made a patter as she slinked into the room. The occupants had yet to notice her presence even as they talked amongst themselves aware of enemies on their ship and the fact their ship was in disrepair.
Ghoul decided to use the surprise to her advantage before Delgado ruined it. She braced herself before using her left foot to launch herself from a seat and into the air. Her body vulnerable, flying towards the enemy. She landed on the closest of the four and chaos ensued. There were sounds of shots being fired, grunts, shouts, and weak threats as she swung the body over her as she hit the floor with them. The man above her was heavier than she anticipated but she did not let that stop her from using them as a human shield. One of her hands freed and unsheathed a blade to slit his throat before she threw it at the man that was furthest from her. There was a rip at her green tasseled hair as all four were focused on her. Once it seemed they stopped firing shots she used her legs to propel the dying body off from her and sending it away to trip up whoever was in its path.
Ghoul’s side burned and her thigh felt a shatter of pain as one of the men managed a few blows. She elicited a growl and as she pushed herself up the one who ripped at her hair had his arm around her throat before she stood. The constriction around her throat made her insides burn with fury and lack of oxygen. Her hands grabbed for the man’s arm that was around her throat and with precise movement she used his weight to flip him forward. The strain in her own arms stinging silently. He groaned and before the other could come after her again there was a loud bang and the man slunk to the ground, dead. Delgado was now in the room firing shots at those who still moved. Ghoul had successfully distracted them, so they did not expect the Crimson Fleet leader to appear with vengeance.
Everyone was subdued within minutes and even though she was still on the ground her breathing was heavy, feeling the weight of the lack of oxygen on the ship. Ghoul’s head felt light and dizzy, and it took her longer than she cared to realign herself. During this small moment her eyes were closed and once they opened a gloved hand was reaching out towards her. Her eyes stared at the hand and then up into the pirate’s syrup eyes before deciding to give in to his offer. She gripped it with might and as he lifted her up, she felt the tenderness in the pressure he returned. Though they had successfully taken out the last of the passengers, Delgado’s nostrils were flaring.
Last night this chapter was published! Feel free to check out the rest the series on Ao3!
Heavy Metal Lover.
Chapter 1: Metal Coffin
WC: 2762
Ghoul and Delgado are back! Ghoul is stealthy, aggressive, indulgent, and stubborn as hell. Delgado is rough, creative, intimidating, and a manipulative Crimson Fleet leader. These chapters will be windows into Ghoul's Crimson Fleet life if the ending of Fleeting Pleasures never happened.
#starfield#starfield fanfiction#the coemancer crew#fang writes#delgado#starfield delgado#ghoul vibes only#wip wednesday
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18+ | modern office steddie au | cw: public sex, undernegotiated kinks, unsafe sex | crossposted to ao3 here
eddie doesn't do it often. okay, maybe that's a stretch. frequently might be a better word for it, more accurate. but he wouldn't say he does it everyday or anything. it's just a little break from the day, an escape from the monotony of corporate america.
he's only been in this new tech support job for a few months but he's already comfortable enough that working on his next novel at his desk doesn't give him anxiety anymore. he isn't afraid someone is looking over his shoulder all the time like he did when he first started with the company.
the thing is, eddie's good at tech. he's good at finding the problems, finding even better solutions. half the time all he's doing is updating and restarting people's equipment that hasn't been refreshed in years. so he finds himself with enough free time at his desk to work on the second installment of his fantasy novel when the problems seem to be at a low.
as he waits for his laptop to boot up, eddie cracks his knuckles and grabs his phone to send a text to his editor that may or may not also happen to be his best friend so he could cut back on over exuberant editing fees. he doesn't read the message over, just fires out a text to nancy quickly before pocketing his phone.
he only realizes the typo once he gets a laughing emoji in return and cackles at what he actually sent.
"getting ready to write some smut on the cock!!!!!"
it doesn't take long to send a winky face before correcting himself to say " on the clock obviously", before pocketing his phone and opening the document where his novel is. just as eddie is about to start typing, a voice behind him makes him jump out of his skin.
"what was so funny?" steve asks, arm propped on the top of his flimsy cubicle wall, legs crossed over one another, smirk on his face.
eddie forces himself not to swoon. he takes in the way his white button up stretches across his chest, dress pants oh so snug over his thighs, hair pushed back in the way that only steve harrington could pull off. he may have only been at the office for a few months, but ever since he first saw him, steve very quickly became the only thing eddie could think about.
"i'm sure you wouldn't find it funny," he starts, tilting his laptop screen halfway shut so steve can't catch him doing his other job, his favorite job, while at work.
steve smirks again, his cheek lifting enough to crinkle his eye. "try me, munson."
with a dramatic push, eddie rolls in his wheely chair and stands up so he can keep his voice low. "i sent my editor a dirty text on accident."
if steve's surprised, he doesn't show it.
"editor, hmm? for what?" his voice is as low as eddie's and it makes the cubicle feel even smaller than it is. like everything in the world has zeroed in on their whispers to each other.
"i might be writing a book. well, technically i've already written a book. this is just the sequel."
steve's eyes flick from eddie to his laptop and then back once more. "is it anything i'd know?"
he cackles again, picturing steve reading his smutty fantasy novel, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make any sense out of the haphazard world map eddie drew for the back page. but then again, he could easily picture steve in the world he made. he'd be a prince- no, scratch that, an elven prince- just like the one he's writing about in this one.
"i do read, you know. i'm not entirely up to date with everything but i do like books." steve says it like he's almost hurt and it makes eddie look back up at him, mellowing out his wide grin into a softer smile.
"oh, i wasn't doubting that. i just doubt you read elf porn in your free time."
whatever hurt was lacing through steve's face is gone, replaced with wide eyes and eyebrows to his hairline and a bright smile pulling at his cheeks.
"yeah," he says a little breathless, "yeah, definitely not the first thing i'd reach for."
eddie gives him a told-you-so head nod and brings a hand up to run through his hair, tracking steve's eyes as he follows the motion for a moment. having his eyes on him rushes through eddie like a wave crashing and he's halfway tempted to do it again if he didn't think it would look forced.
"well you probably don't know mine then."
as he turns to go back to his chair, he hears steve cough to get his attention back, arms crossed over his chest to make his shirt pull taut over his beautiful, gorgeous, annoyingly perfect biceps. "so what was the dirty text?"
"well, it was actually a typo," eddie starts, cocking his head to the side with a smirk as he pulls out his phone, "so an unintentional dirty text. but still funny, none the less. and i don't think i can say it out loud without getting hr called on my ass so-"
he holds up his phone so steve can see the brief conversation between him and nancy, watches his eyebrows shoot back up to his hairline, watches as his mouth drops open for a millisecond before giving eddie another goddamn smirk. steve leans back, drops his arms to put a hand on his hip, and looks eddie less than subtly up and down.
"so... do you want to?"
eddie can feel the moment his heart stutters in his chest. a combination of steve's general... steveness plus the implication of what the text said and his mind travels to a dirty, dirty, not meant for work place until he pieces it somewhat together and asks-
"...are you asking if i'm gay?"
steve huffs out a laugh and takes a step further into eddie's cubicle. there already isn't much room and with him coming in the tiniest bit closer, their toes are almost touching.
"sure," he says like it's the easiest thing to say on a thursday afternoon. "it can be a two-part question if you want."
a few things run through eddie's head all at the same time:
steve's close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of the arm he now has resting on his desk, and he's really about to come out to a coworker which he normally leaves for at least 6 months into a new job, and that he thinks he's going to pass out if steve is actually asking what he thinks he's asking.
do you want to write smut while you're on my cock?
he doesn't know where he finds the courage, honestly. call it a slow thursday, call it a little extra motivation for his novel. eddie scoots closer and throws caution to the wind.
"then yes to both."
he's never seen steve's office. he's been to the top floors before when some higher up needed him to install a web browser on his new desktop so he has kind of an idea of what the private offices look like.
eddie didn't expect the first time that he got to see steve's office would be spread out, bent over his desk with his novel pulled up on his laptop while steve runs his hands over his ass.
"here's how this is going to work," steve whispers close to his ear while he lays against his back, snaking a hand up to undo the knot of eddie's messy tie, popping open a button on his dress shirt in the process. "you stop writing, i stop fucking you."
with a hum, eddie presses his hips back, up on his tiptoes with his off brand dress shoes pinching his feet tightly. "i think i can manage that."
"i'm not finished," he bites gently at eddie's ear lobe, returning his hands to palm over his ass cheeks. "everything i do to you, and i mean everything, needs to be written down. turn me into a character or something, i don't care, but i expect you to be thorough."
he doesn't mean to moan at the instructions, really he doesn't, but it's so easy to picture steve morphing into a character in his world. his mind races trying to figure out how exactly to write him into the scene that had already started, but with a snap of his fingers as the idea clicks, he writes out a quick line and looks at steve over his shoulder for approval.
"who's sylvar?" steve asks, pronunciation clunky on his tongue.
"sylvar is an elven prince, might as well make you him. besides, you both have an s name."
steve chuckles, his breath ruffling eddie's hair. "okay, fair. prince, huh?"
he doesn't have to look over his shoulder again to know that steve's smirking so he rolls his eyes and finishes the sentence, only breaking away to gasp as steve brings his hand between his thighs to spread them further apart.
"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say that elidyr is supposed to be you?"
eddie nods and pulls his tie off the rest of the way. "let's see, he's one of the prince's newest attendants, known for being a bit out of control, gets chastised for staring at the prince's ass in his khakis too much-"
"you're making that one up, huh?"
he tosses his tie to the side and brings a hand up to tangle in steve's hair, pulling his lips down to his neck and waiting for him to get the hint and start kissing. "steve, i'm making all of it up. that's the way writing a book goes."
"is that so?" he murmurs playfully against his neck, teeth pressing against the skin as he smiles, hands yanking on his hips to get eddie flush against his cock. "...i don't see you writing."
eddie huffs and shakes his head before writing out quickly how sylvar grabbed elidyr by the hips roughly to show him how excited he was. steve takes the typing as the go ahead and quickly undoes both of their pants before running his hands up eddie's now bare thighs.
he didn't really have any idea of how well he'd be able to hold out to steve's ministrations while having to write them out at the same time, but any confidence he had in himself leaves when steve's palm cups his cock through his briefs. eddie cants his hips forward and brings his hand back up to tangle once more in steve's hair.
and just like that, the touch is gone.
"oh, come on!" eddie whines and brings his hands back to the keyboard, typing in random filler words until suddenly he has no underwear and hands pulling his ass cheeks apart.
"gonna fucking take you apart... shit," steve whispers and eddie doesn't think he was supposed to hear it, but he writes it into the scene anyway.
there's a cool dribble of what must be lube on his hole and he fights against the shiver it sends up his spine. "you have lube in your office?"
"no, i have lube in my briefcase. big difference."
eddie doesn't really see how to the two are different, but he laughs to appease steve before getting cut short as a finger starts to enter him. he must whine, must jerk or do something wrong because it's leaving almost as soon as it had arrived.
"steve, i swear to god," eddie groans, head dropping down as he types without looking. poor nancy is going to have a hell of time reading and editing over this draft.
they both sigh when the finger presses into him once more and steve weaves his other hand into eddie's hair to pull him up and look at his screen. "there you go, just keep typing. write about how good it feels."
and shit. that's hotter than he expected it to be.
it goes well for all of a few minutes, eddie typing and steve reading over his shoulder, scissoring his fingers to get him nice and wet and open. they both somehow manage to keep their composure, filthy words being muttered out loud that then end up on the screen.
it's after steve gets him cock in him that it all goes down hill.
"oh fuck-" eddie moans as his leg gets hoisted up for a better angle. steve's grip on his hip is brutal, bound to be leaving bruises, as he pulls eddie back to meet him in the middle.
his chest is rubbing against the pleather desk cover, nipples catching on just the right side of painful when steve pushes his shirt up and out of the way. his dick is flopping against his thigh with every thrust, the lack of friction driving him insane.
he swears he only takes his hands away from the laptop for a second but then steve's pulling out quickly, dropping his leg and getting eddie off balance. he whines like he's throwing a temper tantrum before bringing his fingers back up to type more nonsense, gasping when steve slides back in like no time has passed.
"read it," he huffs next to his ear, "tell me how perfect you make fucking me sound."
"oh my god," eddie croaks, eyes rolling back as steve lets go of his hip once more to pull his head upright. "sylvar fucks wi-without abandon, hitting every right spot possible inside elidyr, the heat of his h-heavy cock punishing him making him mad with lust."
"good, yeah that's good. like when i fuck you hard?" steve grunts out before pistoning his hips even faster, eddie's moans bouncing off the bare office walls. "tell me more, keep going baby."
"the grip he uses to hold onto elidyr's hair is the only thing keeping him upright. this is all he could want, tending to the prince's every desire, being whatever the prince wants him to be." eddie expects it when the fingers in his hair curl even tighter, his back bowing against the desk with the pressure, but he still keens loudly at the pull.
steve chuckles roughly, like he's barely holding on himself, hips stuttering before evening out. "is that what you want?"
"wha-" eddie murmurs, not trusting his voice much more than that, his brain turning into mush. "is what what i want?"
"want to tend to my desires, want to be for me to use however i please?"
and the thing is, realistically, eddie knows this whole thing is weird, blending his two worlds together in a way he's never done before, but it doesn't stop him from forgoing the rules and bringing a hand down to work over his cock. "god, don't stop. please, please, please..."
steve must be tired of the game, too, because he doesn't even attempt to quit what they're doing to punish eddie as he stops writing. he barely has time to appreciate that the game is finally over because the hand in his hair slides around to rest gently around eddie's throat, pulling him up so his back is to steve's chest, every thrust punching out another gasping breath.
"answer the question," he says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. "gonna let me use you how i want?"
eddie has died and gone to heaven and the cause of death is a mixture of steve's tongue, hands, and cock. his mind wanders to what else they could do together, what else he'd let steve do, what else he wants steve to do. he sends up a quick thank you to whoever is listening that he saw the job posting for this company so he could be here in this moment with a possible sex god in his midst.
the hand that he had braced on the desk for support makes its way up to cover steve's on his throat, a barely there pressure combined with his quick fingers on his cock that sends him over the edge.
he breathes out a "yes" as he shoots come across the stop of steve's desk and see stars dancing in his eyes. steve fucks him through it, whispers filth of what he wants to do to eddie right into his ear, and when he comes back to himself, he digs his nails in the top of steve's hand.
"want it, want you, however you want me-" he chokes out.
and when steve finally comes inside of him, eddie makes sure he bends back down with his cock still pounding into him to write some line about how nice elidyr thinks it feels to filled up from someone who probably shouldn't be giving him the time of day. he tries not to find parallels as steve kisses up the back of his neck as he rocks his hips for the final time.
eddie's bare ass is in a mixture of their come as they maneuver him around to let him sit up and wrap his legs around steve's hips, pulling their spent cocks together while they lazily make out. steve's hands dance softly over his bare thighs, eddie threads his fingers through steve's hair.
"how does it end?" steve whispers against his lips.
"i don't know yet," eddie says truthfully, his mind wandering as kisses start to trail down his jawline. "how do you want it to end?"
"i don't suppose they have bars in this elf world, do they? one where they can go on an actual date to before going back to the palace or whatever to ravage each other?"
eddie grins, tipping his head back to catch steve's lips one more time in a slow kiss. "i can arrange for them to go to the tavern. i think they'd both like that."
the next morning, slightly hungover and draped over each other in steve's way too large bed, eddie ignores a text from nancy asking why the names change halfway through the draft and wondering who the fuck steve is. eddie silences his phone and goes back to sleep, so glad that he didn't double check his first message yesterday for typos.
#HI this got long so i will be posting it to ao3#shoutout to mickala and alice for turning me into this monster#pls excuse any and all typos because i wrote this at work and just want to go home#steddie#my writing#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie drabble#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steddie smut#modern steddie#steddie au
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What it's like reading ur old writing and getting to a particularly awful or self-indulgent part
#Untitled Document why do you make me feel this way#I'm scrapping that ffxv h2o au fic I posted to ao3 its 4 years old and I have a better edition planned#I might just upload the rest of the 'continuous' parts as the rest of the chapters and then post the new version bc it's not even close#It's a completely different fic at this point#This isn't an HD texture pack release this is a total remake. We are going from 2d sprites to hyperrealistic 3d models#H2O au#Cruddy rambles#See in the new edition Celor actually isn't around when Ignis bargains with Leviathan and the pact itself is now fully fleshed out and a#Very conscious decision on his part after visiting the Lux Et Umbrae exhibit at the Lucis Royal Museum because there was a whole thing#With a marilith and Noct getting hurt and being terrified and then going to Tenebrae leaving Ignis behind to wonder wtf was going on and#Regis acting sus around him afterwards and then leviathan tricks him because he's 8 years old literally a child and he signs away his#Future in order to get what he wants#Vs the old version where it just sorta. Happens. Because he got sad for a little bit.#The spelldaggers thing is conversely LESS complex in the HD remake. Because it added nothing to the actual plot and this is long enough as#It is. The old guys are all still bros tho. Regis Cor Clarus Celor... They're all bros. And then the chocobros go on the trip and obtain#2 MORE DADS#Because while Cid can be a hardass he means well and cares about them and *basically* adopts them all after insomnia falls#And Weskham is one of my favorite characters in general he's just so fun to write... I am keeping all of his scenes basically the same#But adding even more and also a bit more context as to who he actually is (Regis's old adviser) because uh... That's important! Esp if he's#Dating secretary camelia#Also I added an extra scene to the mythril plot where ardyn infiltrates the group as Gladio to cause discord while Gladio is#Off hanging with Cor#Because we needed more of ardyn's illusions in the main plot esp before Altissia bc what da heck...
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one reason i'm grateful a) to have been getting into treating my meta as An Art Form as much as fanfic/art/etc, and b) that there's an import function for that on AO3, is that i write very little prose these days, and Actually Having Substantial Things to Post helps me get past the stumbling block of 'well there's nothing much worth going to the trouble for anyway, is there' to the 'alright let's address all the other baggage that makes using AO3 so emotionally fraught for you bud' step (staircase.)
#whosebaby talks#for one thing i met my abusive ex through reading his fics on AO3 for years before we *actually* met and started interacting directly#more specifically me and my *other* abusive ex were fans of his during that time; and gushed a lot to each other in private about his fics#and Indirect Interaction with Ficwriter Crush Through Posting Fic to AO3 was one of the things that *got* us both posting on AO3 for a whil#that's not remotely the only reason i have baggage about it but. yeah.#it has taken me like four years to get to the point where i can *mostly* look in the AO3 tags for any given fandom i'm in#without feeling panicky or sick. mostly.#and not having had anything i felt able or up to posting there for so long means right now the bulk of my current stuff on AO3 is either#'hey remember when you were in an abusive/otherwise hideously toxic friendship/relationship while you were posting this'#or 'hey remember when you were involved in a fandom community that was positive + supportive; that's dead now or you wandered away from it'#'or both; and now it's too late to go back'#which itself is just. tied to a lot of trauma from *before* Fandom as It is These Days Being Its Current Flavor of Fucking Mess#and there are a lot of years-old lovely comments on my old fics that i feel deeply guilty for not having responded to before now#which it's probably not too late to and that's the beauty of AO3. but just. it's a lot#as well as the constant voice whispering in my ear that 'okay well you were pretty good at writing Once but you peaked and now you're shit'#there's a Lot. so yes i am hoping that having meta to post will help put a little distance there#while still preserving my old writing and the snapshots of who i used to be#because she deserved that much; regardless of how the person i am now feels about her; and the evidence that she was there.#anyway. this post brought to you by found a bunch of glowing recs for my exes' fics i had completely forgotten in my dusty AO3 bookmarks#it was an unpleasant surprise but after the initial OH EW that they were there all that time it feels good to know that it's gone#personal stuff#abuse cw#the salt files
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Hi!!!
A proper introductory post on the blog is coming, I'm just at work rn 😭😭
This is going to be my space for posting some ideas and interacting with other writers. The post by @painted-bees inspired me to do this
Anyways, please interact with this post if you're a writer that's open to sharing comments and stuff/be mutuals.
Have a great day 💞
#writing#first post#hi!! <3#slay girlboss#it took my so long to get started on doing anything with my writing smh#i used to write when i was 15/16 and post it on ao3#i got some attention for it but lets be real#i was a kid writing from a kids perspective#for anyone curious it was a marvel reader insert fanfic xdddd#my writing#ao3
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PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1
simon riley / reader
FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3
tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI
cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes
note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!
you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.
part 1: 17.8k
total: 35.8k
Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed.
It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off.
People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself. Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of.
By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.
You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in.
“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting.
He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you.
“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously.
“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”
“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”
Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”
He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator.
“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.
“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.
“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that.
He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”
“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.
“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”
“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”
He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”
“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”
He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.
He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.
“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.
He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”
“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”
“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”
He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.
“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.
“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now.
You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it.
You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.
“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.
He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”
“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”
“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone.
“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”
“Not for me,” was his clipped response.
“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”
“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.
“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”
“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation.
You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out.
You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed.
“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”
“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”
“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.
You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”
He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that.
Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders.
The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom.
It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent.
You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape.
You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed.
Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14.
It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!
You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine.
Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.
He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.
Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered.
It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you.
“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.
He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well.
The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual.
Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver.
After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.
“Good morning,” you called.
“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.
You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious.
As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.
“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”
“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”
“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”
“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that.
The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away.
You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around.
“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.
“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”
“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.
He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them.
“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving.
You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.
He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.
“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.
Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned.
Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet.
When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar.
As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together.
And your panties are feeling awfully sticky.
Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself.
But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better.
Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?
You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching.
With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication.
You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit.
You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself.
But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall.
You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate.
Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.
You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore.
You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.
Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready.
Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life.
You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.
What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not.
You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar.
At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar.
It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread.
It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with.
He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you.
You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work.
So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.
You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.
The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted.
That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly.
Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be.
You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell.
You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell.
“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name.
You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.
“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them.
“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.
“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray.
“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes.
It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.
“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation.
One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”
Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads.
“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.
“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”
“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”
Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong.
The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face.
The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.
You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face.
The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state.
She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.
Your coworker called your name and you paused.
“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them.
“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”
You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply.
The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious.
“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker.
She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone.
He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.
“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”
“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”
He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.
“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”
His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.
“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”
You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open.
You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.
The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again.
She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out.
Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”
“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”
You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.
She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”
“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”
It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one.
“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.
You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it.
You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon.
You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table.
“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”
You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”
“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”
“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.
“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.
“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”
That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.
“Go on home,” she says softly.
“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.
“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”
With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door.
You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath.
You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time.
You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.
He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.
Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.
You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back.
“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”
You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling.
Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you.
He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips.
The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.
His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.
“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap.
You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table.
You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street.
“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.
Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”
“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”
He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots.
You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.
“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”
“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep.
“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated.
You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad.
Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands.
But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off?
“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.
Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.”
True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself.
He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.
He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known.
Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave.
You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.
“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response.
He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”
You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.
He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”
He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.
You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.
“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.
“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained.
“Alright,” is all he says in reply.
You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom.
You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements.
He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his.
“Was it your boss?” he asks softly.
“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore.
“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.
“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”
“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”
“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”
“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”
“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”
“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”
You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.
“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance.
Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young.
As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.
You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother.
He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.
You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked.
You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that.
You never brought it up again.
But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since.
Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen.
Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup.
He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat.
After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands.
“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”
“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”
“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.
“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.
“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.
“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”
A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.
Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself.
Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light.
Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work.
“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”
He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.
“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”
“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.
“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”
“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.
“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”
Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?”
You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”
“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”
You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon.
“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”
“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”
You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms.
You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him.
As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor.
He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.
“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.
He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch.
“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen.
He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.
“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.
He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”
“Oh,” you respond.
Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved.
No, he doesn’t love you.
You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking.
The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things.
You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big.
His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built.
Handsome.
You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.
Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue.
You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred.
Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back.
Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge.
Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.
“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.
You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing.
What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?
You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them.
Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken.
You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut.
You fight back tears as you begin to wash up.
By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.
“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.
“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.
“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”
“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”
“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him.
You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought.
Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk.
When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.
But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it.
Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly.
He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you.
You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan.
“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place.
Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes.
“Si…” you whimper again.
“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”
He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that.
You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.
If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him.
Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed.
You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry.
Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.
“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.
“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”
As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.
“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”
“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”
“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”
“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.
“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”
“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”
He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”
He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day.
Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass.
You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry.
Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all.
But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you.
“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”
“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”
He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder.
You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much.
You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever.
By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse.
Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger.
You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there.
Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.
You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.
You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you.
You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life.
But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately.
You wish that he loved you.
You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep.
Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you.
A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.
You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight.
You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.
I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.
He promised.
You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.
You hang up and try again. And again. And again.
He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.
You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you.
But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him.
Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry.
You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts.
You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it.
Then you do it again. And again. And again.
You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek.
You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise.
Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness.
You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room.
You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing.
It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping.
You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave.
You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him.
God, you hate him.
He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway.
He wanders further into the room before pausing.
He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you.
“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”
Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy.
Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like.
Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red.
He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you.
That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?
You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out.
You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious.
You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him.
Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now.
“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable.
You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too.
When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room.
He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself.
“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”
He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck.
You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that.
“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”
You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.
“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”
He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door.
And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it.
You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit.
Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares.
You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.
You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you.
He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him.
What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls.
This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you.
What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise.
You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness.
You cry all the time. Day and night.
You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him.
God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid.
You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on.
You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome.
When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care.
You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again.
It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore.
Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month.
You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear.
Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to.
You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope.
The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar.
You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is.
You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back.
You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it.
“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.”
“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”
“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”
“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking.
“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”
You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”
“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”
“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.
“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”
Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself.
“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”
His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”
You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in.
When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel.
You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day.
The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold.
You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time.
So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left.
As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet.
You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself.
You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope.
Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep.
But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do.
Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake.
So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever.
You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it.
You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open.
You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else.
Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.
Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway.
He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat.
“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room.
He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him.
“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”
“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was.
“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”
“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”
You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go.
But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed.
Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go.
After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”
You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”
“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds.
He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach.
“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.
“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap.
You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”
“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed.
You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”
Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.
“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”
You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it.
You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat.
When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged.
You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done.
You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen.
He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well.
It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls.
You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.
You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone.
You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread.
He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over.
He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even.
His words ring out through your head like a bell.
“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”
Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash.
Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry.
“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts.
“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”
You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.
“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”
You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”
Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”
All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”
“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”
“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”
For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again.
“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”
Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time.
The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away.
Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now.
With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on.
But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.
“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.”
He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”
“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”
His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it.
Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer.
Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is.
“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”
“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees.
Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly.
You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes.
“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”
You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.
You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you.
When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself.
A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”
“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”
Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”
As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place.
You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.
You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more.
When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.
“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.
“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”
You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response.
As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again.
But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air.
You love him, you really do.
But you’re still so angry at him.
And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly.
The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.
“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.
Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”
“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?”
Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”
You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”
He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”
“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”
He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”
You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”
“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.
“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”
He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”
“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”
You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”
He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.
“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”
“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”
He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”
“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”
He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.
“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.
“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”
“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto.
He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place.
“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”
“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.
“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?”
You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated, sad and utterly confused.
You wished he would stop leaving.
You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait.
You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has.
The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep.
“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.
Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague.
You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is.
“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”
You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles.
“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”
You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.
He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.
PART TWO.
do not modify, translate, or repost.
#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost smut#ghost x reader#cod smut#cod x reader
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Leave the Light On
mike schmidt x reader
warnings: nsfw 18+, continuation of this post, panty sniffing, semi-public masturbation, sex tape, consensual somnophilia
part 1 ✩ part 3 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩
As soon as he awoke, he knew something had happened. His thighs and groin were covered in the sticky remnants of cum and his briefs were skewed. You’d made good on your promise, and excitement hummed under his skin at the thought.
He was more confident that you’d taken him up on the offer when he looked in the mirror and saw the hickies coating his neck and chest. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as he took in the marks.
He slid on the jeans you had set neatly on the edge of his bed and opted for a hoodie that would cover most of the marks you’d left. He definitely didn’t need Abby asking how he got them.
His ears perked up at the sound of you coming in through the front door accompanied by hurried footsteps. Abby was talking excitedly about something and you commented here or there.
He’d entered the kitchen, and your eyes lit up at his appearance. You gave him a devilish grin as you sat at the kitchen table, listening to Abby as she talked.
The rest of the evening was spent with lingering glances and fleeting touches. He wanted to ruin you as soon as the two of you were alone, but you kept him at arm's length. You led him into the kitchen and retrieved something off the counter.
You handed him a paper bag, “I made you lunch. Dinner, maybe?” He nodded and went to open the bag to inspect its contents. You grabbed his wrist. “Just wait until you get to work, okay?”
“You’re asking me to be very patient tonight,” he pointed out, sliding a hand around your waist.
You pecked his lips and pulled him closer, “It’s worth it. Promise.”
Once it was time for him to leave, you held the door for him and walked him to his car. You had that grin that told him you were up to no good.
“I hope you enjoy your lunch,” you mentioned as he reached the driver’s side door.
His eyes flicked to the paper bag clutched in his hand and back to the grin that danced across your lips. Slowly, he started to put the pieces together, and excitement mixed with something else stirred in his belly. He gave you a quick peck on your cheek and yanked open the door to his car, suddenly eager to get to work.
He kept an iron grip on the wheel for the entirety of his drive. The paper bag sat in the passenger seat, taunting him. He was glad he was the only one in the parking lot as he haphazardly whipped his car into a spot.
His legs moved almost as quickly as his thoughts as he entered the pizzeria. His footsteps echoed throughout the hallway as he walked toward his office. A small part of him felt embarrassed that he was so excited to see whatever was in the bag.
He forced his breathing to steady as he entered his office. Mike didn’t pride himself on being a patient man, but he figured whatever was in that bag would definitely be worth the wait. He leisurely went through the motions of his nighttime routine, checking the security cameras and making sure all the animatronics were in their correct spots. He’d hoped they would leave him alone just long enough for him to open his gift.
Finally, he settled into his rolling chair with the paper bag in his lap. He prayed he wasn’t getting his hopes up for a sandwich. He gingerly opened it and peeked inside. Nestled neatly among the contents of the bag was a VHS tape. His heart rate quickened as he pulled it out and read the label on the front. ‘For Mike’ was scribbled in your neat scrawl and hearts were scattered along the label.
His hands shook slightly as he ejected the training tape from the player and slid yours in. The TV came to life and it took him a moment to figure out what he was looking at. His eyes widened when he realized he was watching himself sleep. Midday light was shining through his window, and you were grinning as you stepped into the frame.
You were wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his hoodies; his cock jumped in his jeans from just that alone. Such a simple sign of ownership had his breath catching in his throat as he continued to watch. You made a show of stripping for him. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly tugged them down your legs. You’d taken your underwear off at the same time as your sweatpants, wasting no time in baring yourself to him.
You had that same grin that he loved as you bent down to pick up something off the floor, giving the camera the perfect view of your ass. He felt like he was about to burst as you lifted his pants and, with a flourish, tucked your underwear into the front pocket.
He frantically patted the front of his pants and reached inside each pocket. He released a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the lacy fabric of your panties. He pulled them out of his pocket and brought them to his nose, breathing in your scent.
His cock pressed uncomfortably against his jeans as he watched you take your hoodie off, revealing that you wore nothing underneath it. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as your fingers danced across your chest. He leaned back in his chair, your panties clutched in one hand while the other worked to free his cock from his jeans.
His fingers were clumsy as he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked down his zipper. He slipped his hand past the waistband of his briefs and gasped as he finally slid a hand over his length. He watched as you caressed his thighs before moving to finally touch him.
He tugged his briefs down and under his balls, just like you did on the tape. Your actions were gentle but precise as you stroked him. He matched your pace perfectly. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you slid your hand over his aching cock.
You pulled away, and Mike halted his own movements, a low whine escaping him. His cock jumped in his hand when you wrapped your plush lips around his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, matching the seductive way your tongue swirled around it. Your position in front of the camera allowed him to see every minute detail of you bobbing your head around him, and he could already feel the familiar coil tightening in his abdomen.
A strangled sigh escaped his lips as you drew back with a wet pop. You darted your tongue out to taste him across your lips. A shiver went up his spine at your actions. You were careful as you straddled him and drug your core against him.
He moaned along with you as you lowered yourself onto his cock. He was slightly surprised he didn’t wake up with you above him whining like that. A part of him wished he did wake up, so he could’ve fucked you properly.
He planted his feet and rutted his hips into his fist as he watched you create the marks he now donned. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled his small office, and every inch of his skin burned with desire.
He took your panties and slid them across his cock, moaning as the lacy fabric drug against his flushed skin. The feeling mixed deliciously with the smoothness of his palm, and his back arched against the chair. His jaw went slack, each breath punctuated with a needy moan and a thrust of his hips.
With a strangled cry, he was cumming, eyes glued to your form as you fell apart on his cock. The pretty little whines you were making were going to be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. The white strings of his release covered your panties with some dripping down his fist and across his knuckles.
He used your panties to clean up the mess he made. His cheeks flushed as the lace smeared his release over his cock. He prayed you’d leave the light on for him.
#mike schmidt x reader smut#mike schmidt#mike schmidt x reader#five nights at freddy's#fnaf x reader#fnaf#fnaf movie#reader insert#no y/n#five nights at freddys#josh hutcherson#michael schmidt
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Push him
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR manager! Reader
Summary: When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you.
Word count: 6.8K
Warnings: smut, bucky is obsessed with your short skirts, bucky is recovering, grumpy x sunshine, good friend natasha romanoff, office sex, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names
Author's note: ‼️so if you haven't seen my previous post, this is my new account. you may have seen this work on my old one (@inmyicyworld) but it was terminated and @support doesn't respond to me. please, follow and share this work. I'm going to reupload all of my old fanfics and hope to get your support ❤️
The work at the Avengers Tower wasn’t what you expected it to be. Tony Stark found you while you were working for another company a little bit more than a month ago. He was amazed by the way you were dealing with problems, by your charisma, and by your ability to find a common language with everyone. That’s how he knew that he had to have you as his partner and a part of the team.
The next day, you got a call directly from Tony, asking you to quit your job and accept his offer to work as Avenger’s PR manager. It would be an understatement to say that your jaw dropped to the floor when you heard your salary.
He said that you were totally worth it and that working with a group of such different people was not easy, but he was sure that you would be perfect at this. So on that exact day, you decided to take a risk and accept the challenge.
One thing that you hated about your previous job was the strict dress code. It was simply far from your style because you hated wearing the same basic and boring clothes every day. Tony said that it was the last thing that he cared about, and in that building, no one was obligated to wear certain clothes.
You knew that it was your lucky ticket.
He was actually really friendly and funny in person. You talked a lot during your first day while he was showing you all the necessary places in the tower: your office, his lab, common rooms and kitchens, avenger’s rooms, and even a beautiful garden on the roof. By the way, Tony allowed you to decorate your office however you wanted and gave you the number of the person who was responsible for this.
In short, it was perfect.
You were giddy with excitement on your first actual day of work. According to the plan, you had to meet with the Avengers and then arrange a few meetings for Tony.
It felt like you spent hours before your mirror deciding what to wear. Your whole room was a mess, and when you finally completed your look, which consisted of a short black skirt, beige long sleeve and a brown leather jacket on top, it was already time to go.
Everyone in the room heard you before they saw you because of the sound of your heels clicking on the wood floor.
“Don’t tell me that this is our PR manager, Stark.” Black Widow looked you up and down with a smirk on her face. “You look good, hun. Finally, someone with a taste in this boring group of losers, besides me and Wanda, of course.”
“Hi.” You nicely smiled, not ready to get a compliment as soon as you stepped into the room.
“Ohh, she’s also the sweet one.” Another red-headed woman, Wanda, said with a smile.
“You both, shut up.” Tony stood up from the armchair with a pack of chips in one hand and threw the other one over your shoulder. “Want some?” He asked you, showing the food, but you slightly shook your head. “Whatever… Now, you all listen here, this is Y/N; she’s our new PR manager. I stole her from someone because she’s incredibly smart and good at her job. Starting from this moment, she’s going to cover up your asses and organize all this stupid media stuff.” You blushed at his words but were still silent. “So, this is Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Th—wait, you already know them, right?”
“Yeah, of course I do.” You chuckled. “By the way, it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope we can work together, and I will have a chance to be helpful.” You took a look at all the Avengers in the room, and everyone looked at you with a smile except one person, whose eyes sent shivers down your spine.
When you looked at Bucky, you saw that his eyes were scanning your body with an unreadable expression, and you suddenly felt really weird in your short skirt. Your eyes met, and his famous death stare was really quite scary. He didn’t like you? You two were staring at each other for a few seconds, and you believe that the rest of the team noticed it because Steve loudly cleared his throat to get your attention.
He asked you a few questions about you, and Clint and Sam made a few jokes. Everything was fine as you all chatted for a little bit until Tony said that everyone should get ready for tomorrow’s mission, and you too have a lot to do.
You went back to your office only with the thought that, during this whole time, Bucky was staring at you like he wanted to burn a hole in your head.
Later that day, Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of already-cold coffee while Steve was making himself dinner. It was quiet besides the sound of the cooking food, or at least Bucky didn’t listen to Steve’s words because he was too deep in his thoughts.
Well, he was mostly thinking about you and his mixed feelings about this interaction. As soon as you walked into the room, you had his whole attention. He couldn’t help but stare at your body, at your open legs, and at your smiley face. He knew that he sounded like a total creep and that it was inappropriate to look at other people this way, but he had never seen women dress this way. Was it normal right now? Was it new fashion trends or something? The only women that he had been interacting with for the past few years were women from Wakanda, and in the tower it was mostly Nat and Wanda, and he had never seen them dress like that. Or, at least, he just didn’t care enough to notice it.
When he saw you today, he felt something in him, and he didn’t like that feeling. It was something new, something that he had never experienced before, but his body became tense and his stomach tightened. It was weird.
“What, you're still trying to process her?” He was distracted from his thoughts by Sam, who came to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge. Bucky looked at him and furrowed his brows when he saw a shitty smirk.
“What the fuck are you talking about? And why are you smiling like an idiot?” Bucky growled.
“Because you’re thinking about Y/N.” His words caught Steve’s attention, and he came closer.
“That’s why you two were staring at each other like that?” Steve said this while drying his hands with a towel. “Do you like her? I think she seems cute.”
“No, I don’t. She just looks... different.”
“Oh, the old man got excited by the beautiful woman and her short skirt.” Sam’s smile got even wider as he started teasing Bucky. “You know, I wanted to ask her out, but I can take a step back if you like her.” He leaned on the table so he could get under Bucky’s skin even more.
“I do not like her.”
“So you’re okay if I ask her out? Maybe I should go to her office right now.” Sam pretended like he was really thinking about this.
“Sam...” Steve said.
“You both are just getting on my fucking nerves.” Bucky’s chair almost fell to the floor when he angrily stood up. “Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care about you or her.” With these words, he stormed out of the room, and Sam started to laugh out loud.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother whose kids always fight.
“That was fun, and maybe it’ll push him to ask her out. She’s hot, but not my type; I’m just trying to help this idiot.”
You have been working with the Avengers for over a month now. This work was literally a dream from any angle. You were making a lot of money, doing the job that you really liked, and found a lot of close friends.
Almost everyone on the team was very close to you. Natasha and Wanda were particularly your best friends. Sam was the funniest person you’ve ever met, and he always found time to tease you or to make a compliment. Bruce and Clint were like your uncles—a little bit old and annoying, but always with a piece of advice for you. A few times, you and Steve met at the gym when you came to work too early, so he was happy to train with you. Who would’ve thought that Captain America himself would teach you how to throw a punch?
The only pain in your ass was Bucky Barnes. Well, to be fair, he didn’t do anything. You’re not even sure that you heard his voice. He was always just staring. Any time that you came to the room and he was there, you either saw him from the corner of your eyes or felt his burning gaze on your back.
To this day, you had no problems with your job. You organized a few interviews for Tony and Steve, talked to the newspapers and magazines, and held some meetings, but right now, sitting on your white chair, you felt weirdly nervous.
Bucky had to come here any minute to talk about a recent accident. Apparently, he almost knocked out someone on the street. All the press and news sources were taking advantage of the situation and using loud headlines to cast a shadow on Bucky and get more views. “The Winter Soldier is back?”. “The Winter Soldier almost killed an innocent man on the street.”
It has been the biggest topic on the internet for the past few hours. Most of the people were furious and wrote too many inappropriate and rude things. So you asked FRIDAY to call Bucky so you could know the whole situation and give comments to the press as soon as possible.
You started thinking about what you should do, or, to be more honest, how to behave around Bucky, because a few days ago two red-headed women that you now considered your best friends assured you that he is in love with you and just doesn't know what to do with it.
You told them everything about his weird actions—that he always looked at you, checked your clothes, and stayed silent. Natasha and Wanda just looked at each other with smirks on their faces.
“Why are you looking at each other like that?” You arched an eyebrow and crossed your hands across your chest.
“Please, don't tell me that you don't understand his behavior.” Natasha looked at you and sipped her coffee.
Well, I wouldn’t have asked you if I knew the reason.”
“Honey, he lust likes you and thinks that you’re hot. You remember that he’s actually an old man, right? Women from his time didn’t dress like that, and you look really sexy.” Wanda’s words made Nat nod her head as you looked weirdly at both of them.
“That’s bullshit, Wanda. This can’t be true. I'm sure that he just doesn’t like me and thinks that I look too revealing. Or he just hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”
“Some time ago, I came to the kitchen at like 2 a.m. just in my lingerie because I thought everyone was asleep. Barnes was sitting there with a book, and you know what? He just said “Hi” and didn’t even look at me again while I was making a sandwich. And when he sees you, he just can’t take his eyes away and stares like an idiot.”
You stayed silent, thinking about the girls' words, because everything seemed pretty reasonable.
“And what should I do?”
“I don’t know, seduce him or something.” Natasha just casually said it, and your eyebrows flew to your hairline.
“Wait, do you like him?” Wanda asked you, and Natasha huffed like it was obvious.
“I mean… he’s beautiful. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, but Steve and Sam love him, and I trust their opinion.” You stopped trying to put together your thoughts. “To be honest, sometimes I think about the fact that he’s probably one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen. When we studied history at school, all the girls fell in love with America's Boy, and I with his best friend.”
“Then don’t wait. Just give him some hints, because I swear, for the ladies’ man, he’s too slow.” Natasha’s words made you smile. “Try to get closer to him; I don’t know, flash him with your boobs and look at the reaction. Push him a little bit. He’ll break.”
The loud knock on the door almost made you jump out of your chair.
“Come in.” You said this as you stood up and fixed your white dress and cardigan.
Bucky came probably to the lightest and most cozy room in the whole tower. A lot of white and pastel colors, comfy sofa and armchairs, and paintings on the wall. And in the middle of this was you—always perfectly looking, in heels, in a too-short dress, and with a smile on your face. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the smooth skin of your legs. It’s probably so soft...
“Em– Hi.” You awkwardly stood while his eyes were scanning your body. He didn’t answer; he just nodded. “So I think that we can sit there, it’s more comfortable.” You wave your hand at the sofa with a fluffy cover on it. “Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, soda?” Bucky just shook his head while he was trying to comfortably sit with a frown on his face.
You deeply inhaled while trying to be a professional. You didn’t know what was wrong with this man, but his behavior started to get on your nerves.
“Bucky, we can’t work together if you keep ignoring me. You can say if you don’t like something, because I don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.” You sat across from him and crossed your legs.
“I don’t know what I should say.” His deep voice filled the room. Bucky took a pillow that was lying near him and started playing with the fringe. “I feel weird when I’m around you, and I don’t like it. I have thoughts that I shouldn’t have.” His eyes scanned your body once again, and you wondered if he was talking about what you thought.
“Can I do something to change it?”
“No.” He deeply inhaled. “It’s my own problem, and it’s not your job to try to fix it. Anyway, why am I here?”
“I think you know why. I need to ask you about the recent incident because I have a meeting with the press in less than an hour, and I have to give them a good reason why you did that. People didn’t take all that information too well.” You saw that Bucky sadly smiled and looked you directly in the eyes, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “So, tell me what’s happened.”
“You know that whatever you say won’t change people’s opinions about me, right? No one forgave me, and they’re still looking for a chance to call me a murderer.” He tried to hide behind a smile, but you saw everything written in his eyes. Bucky hurt himself with his own words.
“I understand how you feel about this whole situation, but we should address all those rumors because things might get worse.” You leaned on your knees with your hands, and Bucky’s eyes immediately fell on your boobs.
Push him a little bit. He’ll break.
You tried to hold back a smirk.
“Fuck.” He mumbled. “ I– um– I was walking from the coffee shop to the tower. It was another busy street with hundreds of people, but I still didn’t expect someone to touch me. That man jumped on my back or something, and my instincts just worked. I threw him over myself on the ground and put a hand on his throat. Turned out he wanted to take a picture. But I panicked because there are many people who want to take revenge and who might want to do it literally any second. I’m always ready for this.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but you could hear the pain in his voice.
You felt deeply sorry for the man before you. Even if he was cold and acted weird around you, you knew that it was his way to protect himself. After everything he came through, you couldn’t blame him.
“Do you still go to the therapist?” You gently asked.
“Yes, two times a week.” Bucky nervously ran his right hand through his hair while still holding your pillow in the metal one.
“Okay, that’s good; I can work with this information.” You nodded and reached for your journal on the coffee table. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Bucky. I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to convince people that it was not your fault, okay?”
“Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky stood up, carefully putting your pillow in its place, and left your office without another word, while you were sitting there with a smile.
Maybe the girls were right.
After that day, everything between you and Bucky became even weirder. Yes, he wasn’t totally silent now, and you’ve got a few “Hi”, but his stares felt different.
It was like you two were playing some kind of game. Since you knew that he didn’t actually hate you, you tried to do as Natasha and Wanda said—get his attention and push more. And God, you loved that game.
Almost every day you found an opportunity or excuse to see him in common rooms or in the corridors of the Tower, and you made sure that Bucky noticed you. You wore tighter clothes, walked right past him, and looked at him with a smile. You knew that it was working because a few times Bucky just suddenly left the room while he was mumbling something.
It was almost 8 p.m., but you were still working on schedule for the next week. There was some kind of charity event, and Tony required you to convince everyone to go there because more Avengers can attract more sponsors and money. As always, Bucky was the one who refused to go there. He simply sees no reason for him to be there, and he doesn’t want to be there alone because he knows that Captain America will be the biggest star, and such a social butterfly as Sam will leave him in a second.
You decided that it would be better to talk to Bucky in person, but you didn’t want to lose a chance to get his attention, so you went by yourself instead of asking FRIDAY.
You looked in the small mirror to check your makeup and hair and went straight to where you knew Bucky was spending his evening. As you walked in a dark room filled with only light from the TV, you saw Sam and Steve sitting on the couch and Bucky on the armchair near them. You quietly walk to him and just casually sit on the armrest. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and you heard that the chewing from the boys stopped. Bucky had no choice but to put his metal arm on your lower back.
“I need you in my office. You have to talk about the next charity event. Could you please give me some of your time?” You quietly asked and lowered yourself closer to him. Bucky was just staring at you for a few seconds, but then slightly nodded.
Bucky followed you to your office, not without getting smirks from the boys,and then stood near your table with his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t you want to sit?” You said and stepped closer to him.
“No.”
“Um– okay.” You took the papers from your table and stood in front of Bucky. “So, you know that there is going to be a charity event, and I’m responsible for getting all the Avengers there, and you are one of them.”
“I’m not going, I already told Tony.” He just shrugged.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not needed there. I’m not an actual hero, people have no interest in me, especially when there will be Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, you know? Plus, I have no interest in sitting alone the whole night.” You saw that Bucky tried to be casual about it, but he just put salt on his own wound.
“Don’t say that, Bucky. There are people who want to see you there, you have a lot of fans. You know, I’m going there too, so if you don't mind, we can–”
“What game are you playing with me?” He interrupted you. Bucky straightened his shoulders, which made him look even bigger, and started moving closer to you, putting you in a trap between him and your desk.
“W– what do you mean?” You couldn't control your body as you started to tremble a little bit from the power that this man had. As soon as you bumped into the table, his hands landed on both sides of you, and his face was right in front of yours.
“Don’t act clueless, Y/N. I see what you’re doing.” He stopped for a second, studying your face. “You know, I tried to convince myself that you do all of this by accident, but now I’m sure that you’re just playing your little game. Am I right, doll?” You two were staring at each other, and you felt almost nauseous from different emotions.
He was so fucking beautiful up close. Piercing blue eyes, pink lips, and light stubble You know why many women thought that James Barnes was charming. If he had more confidence, he would’ve been unstoppable.
Your eyes slowly shifted lower to his arms and chest as you remained silent. He was big, with well-trained muscles that were seen through the tight black t-shirt. Both arms were stretched near you, so you had a really good opportunity to look at the smooth tanned skin and beautiful dark vibranium. You felt how your lower stomach tightened just from the thought of getting those pretty hands on your body…
You were pulled out of your head by a sudden movement of Bucky’s hand, which gripped your face and pushed your lips together. He was obviously dominating in the kiss, as if he were desperate to taste you. The tip of his tongue brushed over your lips, asking for entrance, which you happily gave him. The moan came out of you when Bucky moved away and looked you in the eyes, still holding your face.
“This whole fucking time I thought that I was a creep for looking at you, but now I know that you did everything on purpose, doll.” His eyes moved between your eyes and mouth. “All these short skirts and dresses that almost showed me everything underneath it, all these innocent smiles and looks... You did it to tease me?”
“Not at first...” You mumbled. “But you were acting so weird, and girls said that you liked me and just didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find out whether it was true or not.”
“Fuck, if I knew earlier that this was your plan, I would’ve bent you over the nearest surface, baby.” Bucky moved a little closer, brushing his lips over yours. “Do you know how fucking hot and gorgeous you are? I haven’t felt that way in many, many years. Just wanna kiss you and make you mine.”
“And what’s stopping you from this, Sargent?” You asked with a smile and moved your hand to the back of his neck to gently play with the baby hairs.
“You’re gonna be my death, doll face.” He mumbled before leaning closer and kissing you again.
This time, you started to touch each other's bodies. Bucky’s warm and cold hands landed on your thighs, playing with the hem of the skirt and rubbing your soft skin after he lifted you up a little bit and helped you sit on the table, staying in between your legs. Your own hands were moving up and down his broad chest, discovering all of his muscles.
“Bucky…” You whined into the kiss when his finger brushed against the edge of your already wet panties.
“Tell me.” Bucky moved away from your swollen lips and left a path of kisses down your neck. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” He sucked a sensitive spot under your ear, which made you moan.
“I don’t know. Just do anything, please.” You both breathed heavily. You felt like you were too hot; your lower stomach ached, and your underwear was soaking wet. Bucky was looking at you with such lust in his eyes that you wanted him to destroy you.
“Lay back.” He ordered you as one of his hands went higher under your skirt and slid your black lace panties down your legs. You didn’t miss how Bucky shoved him into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk on his face.
You quickly followed his instructions and just threw all the papers from our table on the floor. You’ll regret it later, but now you don't care. The sudden move of Bucky's metal arm grabbed and pulled your shirt, and all the buttons scattered on the floor, making you gasp in disbelief.
“Bucky! It was expensive.”
“Sorry, I’ll buy you whatever you want, I promise. But now I need to see you all.” He growled and fell to his knees before you. “Fuck, doll, such a pretty pussy. I’m gonna make a mess with her.”
Bucky’s hands grabbed both of your legs and threw them over his shoulders. He dragged your skirt higher, not wanting to take it off of you. His head fell on your right legs as he left a few kisses on your sensitive skin.
“Bucky please! Don’t tease me!” You desperately whined.
“I need a moment to appreciate both of you. I haven’t done it since the 40's, you know that?”
You wanted to say something, but his mouth on your most delicate part of your body left you speechless and made you grab his hair. Bucky’s tongue was gentle at first, just to get a taste of you and tease you a little bit. His tongue started to play with your clit, circling it and applying different pressures to find out what made your body twitch. It looked like he was enjoying it too; you felt deep grunts escaping his mouth as he was trying to catch every drop that came out of you.
Your loud moans filled the room as Bucky found the perfect place and made motions that made you see stars. A hand in his hair tightened even more when you felt one of his fingers at your entrance.
“M-hm, so wet and tight for me.” He pulled away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers came in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were firmly glued to your pussy, which was trying to get more, and his mouth opened a little bit at the sight. “Taking my fingers like a good girl.” Bucky attacked you with his mouth again. This time he was licking your folds, mixing his saliva with your juices. When the feeling of his nose touching your bundle of nerves came through your whole body, you gripped Bucky’s dark locks even harder, particularly trying to ride his face, and he had to put his metal hand on your hips so you wouldn’t move.
Your body tensed when he curled his fingers right on your g-spot, sucking your clit like a hungry man.
“Bucky—fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” You whined with tears running down your face.
A few more movements of his magical mouth, and you fell over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head, tingles went all over your body, and the loudest moan mixed with Bucky’s name came out of you as you were riding on the wave of your orgasm.
Bucky didn’t stop, though.
He made sure to lick every drop that came out of you, to the point that you had to beg him to stop because you were too sensitive.
“That was—“ You were trying to catch a breath. “That was the best orgasm I've ever had, oh my god. If you did it for the first time in like seventy years, I can’t imagine what you can do with practice.”
Bucky dragged you up by your neck, so you would be at the same level with him. His hand moved your hips closer to the edge of the table, and you felt how hard he was through those jeans.
“I can practice whenever you’ll allow me, doll.” He put his warm hand on your face to kiss you. The taste of your own release on his tongue made you moan.
“Need you inside of me, please.” Your hands automatically started to pull up his shirt, but he stopped you.
“We don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”
You were silent for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t I want to take your shirt off?”
“You know, my arm and scars...”
“Do you really think that I care about it?” You left a few kisses on his cheek. “I think that your arm is hot, by the way, and I want to feel your skin on mine, Sarge.” It was enough for Bucky to pull off his shirt and stay before you half-naked.
Your hands moved to trace every muscle, every birthmark, and every scar on his chest, and you felt that this moment was so intimate, especially because of Bucky’s stare. He looked at you with such adoration and softness that you wanted to melt.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” He mumbled and kissed you with even more passion.
Bucky ripped off the rest of your shirt and quickly took off your matching black bra, gripping your breasts with both hands and taking your left nipple in his hot mouth.
You dug nails into Bucky’s back as he was sucking and licking your nipples, leaving them wet in the cold air. It felt good. So fucking good—his mouth was truly amazing. But the emptiness inside of you was almost painful, and you were clenching around nothing.
“Bucky! Sarge, please, I need you.” You almost cried and dragged his head by the hair back to your mouth.
“Baby, baby, wait– “ His hot breath was touching your lips, but he stopped your hands, which were unbuckling his belt. “Baby, I don’t have a condom. Fuck, do you have one?”
“We don’t have to use it... I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” Your legs wrapped tighter around Bucky’s waist and put him closer to your naked core. He swore that he could feel your heat through his jeans and boxers.
“Fuck, I love twenty-first century... I’m clean too, can’t even catch a disease with this serum shit.”
His words were like a green light to you. You didn’t want to wait even a second more. So you just took off his pants with such speed and impatience that it made Bucky chuckle. With the last movement, all of his clothes were on the floor, and you sat on your table, frozen because of the sight before you.
Bucky’s thick and perfectly long dick was the best fucking thing that you’ve ever seen. Pink and a little bit curled to his abdomen. Your mouth watered just thinking about tasting it. Or how well he’ll stretch you out. You didn’t even notice how your mouth opened a little bit, and you unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.
“You’re gonna destroy me, Bucky.” You mumbled, to which you heard only a deep chuckle. Your eyes moved back to Bucky’s smiley face.
“I hope so.”
Two different hands landed on your thighs again, spreading and lifting them up. You both looked down at where his cock almost touched your bare folds, and the first contact made you moan loudly. Bucky took the base of his cock, giving himself a few pumps, and moved the tip up and down your pussy, moving easily because of the mixture of your juices.
You grabbed his forearm and whined at the action.
“Ready, doll?” He was trying to be tough and strong, but you saw how he nervously licked his lips, the tremble of his flesh hand, and the tension in his abdomen. But you still vigorously nodded.
It was different from everything you’ve ever experienced. He was big but tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt you. He only pushed a few inches, but you already wanted to cry from all the feelings inside of you. Pain mixed with extreme pleasure.
Bucky was trying so hard to control his motions and go slow, but God, it wasn’t easy. From the first touch of his cock, it felt like he had gone to heaven. He knew that sex was good, he remembers it, but the feeling of you and your warm body that so gracefully greeted him inside made him feral. Bucky felt such a need to kiss you that it was almost painful, especially when your swollen lips were a few inches away from his.
He leaned in closer to your lips, but it made him slip deeper into you, which made you both loudly moan into each other's mouths.
“Fuck– doll, you’re so warm and tight, oh my god.” Bucky mumbled as the grip on your hips became harder. It’ll probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care.
The feeling of him inside of you was overwhelming. He was so deep and stretched you just the way that you wanted, and you almost cried from pleasure.
“Please, Bucky, please move!”
His hips slightly moved once, and it felt like his mood instantly changed. You were suddenly pushed back on your table, and your legs, still in heels, were thrown on Bucky’s shoulders. His metal hand stayed on your thigh, and the other one fell on your stomach to push your skirt higher on your waist.
“All dressed up for me, baby.” He started slowly moving, burying his cock deep inside, and then leaving only the tip to tease you. “You know how long I wanted to do that, huh? Bend you over and just fuck the shit out of you until you can’t say anything except for my name.”
“Bucky– Sarge, please go faster. Just fuck me, do whatever you want.” You were desperate, yes. But you couldn't help but beg, because you really needed him to keep his promise and fuck the shit out of you.
You reached for his hand on your stomach and interlaced your fingers together.
“If you keep calling me that, I won’t last too long, doll.” His thrusts became harder and faster as your body moved up and down on your table.
Bucky was looking at your drunk-looking face with a slightly open mouth because you couldn’t keep your moans quiet. Your hair was deshiveled, your skin glimmered with sweat, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.
“So beautiful, baby.” Bucky murmured, fucking you harder. The room was filled with loud noises from slapping skin and moans. “You love it when I talk to you like that, huh? Want me to tell you what a good girl you are?” His words definitely did something to you, and you unconsciously tightened around him. “Almost choking my cock, baby, fu-u-ck.”
“Mhm, Sargent, I’m so full of you.” You couldn’t see straight as the tip of his head pressed at the perfect spot with every thrust, it was too much and not enough at the same time.
The wet kisses on the inner side of your thigh sent shivers down your whole body when Bucky started to suck tender skin. His rough movement didn’t stop for a moment, and you knew that your orgasm was getting closer. The warm feeling in your belly slowly became bigger. It was hard for you to cum from sex, but Bucky did it so fast and without even touching your clit.
“C’mon, doll face. I feel ‘ya. Feel how your perfect little pussy is squeezing me. Cum with me, baby, cum on my cock.” His movements were still rough and confident, but you felt the slightest change in the way he was looking at you, how his body trembled a little bit, and the prettiest quiet noises escaped his mouth as Bucky was coming to his own end.
You were completely lost in your pleasure, with strong arms on your body and Bucky’s hard cock that was completely destroying you, so when fingers on your clit started to move in circles, your body slightly jolted up from your table.
“Bucky, Bucky, please—ohmygod, I’m coming!” You cried out loud and grabbed the hard wood under your arms.
“O-oh, fuck, doll, cum with me, please. Yes, squeeze my cock harder, make a mess. ‘M gonna cum.” With the last few pushes of his dick inside of you and movements of the fingers, you both fell from your heights, and the room filled with loud moans of pleasure. The feeling of his hot seed on your walls almost made you faint.
Bucky fell down on your body as your leg slipped from his shoulder. Two strong arms wrapped around you, and Bucky’s face nuzzled into your neck. You don’t know how long you two stayed silent, trying to catch a breath, while your hands gently rubbed Bucky’s back.
When he finally lifted himself up with a metal arm near your face on the table, the look in his eyes sent millions of butterflies to your stomach.
“I don’t even know what to say…” He chuckled and cupped your face with his right hand. “You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”
“Even when my makeup, my hair, and my clothes are completely destroyed?” You playfully arched an eyebrow and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on your hot skin.
“Well, I did it, and I’m satisfied with it. You still look so hot, especially with my dick still inside of you.”
“Bucky!”
“Sorry, sorry. But I’m serious, though. Will you let me take you on a date? Maybe yesterday for lunch or for dinner after work?” His eyes had this little bit of doubt, and you couldn’t stop your wide smile because he was really thinking that you would say “no” after that.
“I will be glad to go out with you, Buck.” You dragged his face closer and gave him the sweetest kiss you could.
Bucky moved away, gently slipping out of you, and you hissed at the empty feeling. He helped you stand up on your shaking legs and handed you your clothes.
“Fuck, you completely destroyed my clothes.” You said as you were standing in front of the mirror. “How will I go home?”
“You can stay in my room.” Bucky came closer to you and helped you make your blouse look more presentable, even without buttons.
“Really?”
“Of course, doll. Just hold your shirt in case we bump into someone in the corridor, but I think everyone is already in their rooms.” Bucky finished dressing up, and you saw your underwear sticking out of his pocket.
“Don’t you want to give me my panties?”
“Na-ah, you’ll have to walk with me dripping out of you.” He gave you a cocky smile and turned all the lights off before wrapping his arm around you and leading you into the hall.
It was completely empty, but the second that you stepped out of the elevator, you saw Bucky’s best friends looking at you. All of you were looking at each other for a few seconds before Sam started hysterically laughing.
“You owe me fifty bucks, idiot!” He said to Steve, who was as red as a tomato. “Good job, Buckaroo, but I really thought that we were gonna ask her on a date first.”
“Fuck off, Willson.” Bucky growled, protectively stepping forward to protect you from their looks.
“Okay, okay, relax, no one’s touching your girl.” He said with a cocky smile on his face. “Let’s go, Steve. You’re too innocent to look at things like this.” Sam took his friend and led him in another direction.
“Asshole.” Bucky growled.
“Everything is okay, Buck, let’s go.” You stepped closer to his room, but he was still standing in his place. “I have to take a shower. Will you come with me, or will you stand here the whole night?” You smirked.
It was everything he needed to finally get closer to you, scoop you into his arms, and carry you into his room to the sound of laughter, which soon turned into moans.
#bucky barnes smut#the winter soldier#bucky barnes#marvel#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#winter soldier#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#marvel fanfiction#mcu x reader#marvel fanfic#bucky smut#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader
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Sleeping Bag (Joel Miller x Reader)
Word count: 1.7K
Summary: you can’t get comfortable in your sleeping bag, so joel invites you into his
Tags: age gap (mostly implied), anxiety, fluff, protective/caring!joel, comfort, cuddling, sharing a sleeping bag (instead of the one bed trope lol), kissing (forehead and lips), it’s just cute short and fun
A/N: simple and quick, inspired by ep 4 when joel and ellie were in sleeping bags in the woods, but no explicit spoilers. I’ve been wanting to write for joel since episode one and finally got an idea. pretty sure more will be coming soon…
Cross-posted to ao3 • tlou masterlist • writing masterlist
After sleeping in a bed in the QZ’s for years, suddenly trying to get comfortable in a sleeping bag on the ground was proving difficult for you.
What a spoiled thought to have, right? Well, it wasn’t just that. You were out in the open woods. There could be infected anywhere. They could come for you any second. How could you close your eyes and rest peacefully knowing you were no longer behind the barrier walls?
Ellie was already asleep, you could hear her light snores. Your back was facing him, but you assumed Joel was asleep as well given his stillness. You rolled from your side to your back and sighed.
You had to sleep. You should’ve been tired. You and Joel had taken turns driving, although since you didn’t have much driving experience Joel became concerned when you began to struggle with the gear shift and mixed up the pedals (it only happened once but he couldn’t let it go). Joel had grown exhausted and didn’t want to stress you out by making you drive without him as backup/support, so you all stopped for the night. He was thoughtful like that; even if he was a bit grouchy sometimes.
You turned from your back to your other side, eyes landing on Joel. He was facing you, eyes closed, breathing steadily. The older man actually seemed to be at peace. He only looked like that when he was asleep. The moment he woke up, you knew he’d have that slight pout and furrow of his brows that you’d become accustomed to.
If Joel caught you staring, you wondered what he’d say. You could never pinpoint the way he viewed you. Friend? Daughter? Burden? You’d be way more okay with the previous two as long as it wasn’t the third. Although if you were being honest with yourself, you hoped it was none of the above.
Despite his age and his tough nature, you had a thing for Joel. Like, a thing. Feelings, attraction, affection—whatever you wanted to call it. Definitely a crush. Love? Maybe. It was a little bit confusing, but nothing in this life was simple.
Joel had taken you under his wing a while back and looked after you. He was incredibly protective and even if he wasn’t the best with expressing himself, Joel cared for you. He made you feel safe. He was there for you when you had no one else.
You rolled to your other side. Then back. Simply put, tossing and turning. The thought that you were being loud don’t even cross your mind until—
“What are you doing?” Joel’s voice caught your attention.
You let out a sigh, feeling bad that you’d woken the man up. You turned back to face him. “I can’t sleep,” you confessed.
“I can tell,” he murmured. “Do you plan on rolling around all night?”
You frowned to yourself. “I'm sorry.”
Joel exhaled softly and even in the dark, you could see the sympathy in those deep brown eyes of his. You hadn’t realized that subconsciously, you’d moved closer to him.
“It’s okay.” He had a soft spot for you, even though he’d probably deny it.
“I’ll try and be… still, I guess.” You knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll be fine.” That was a lie.
“No,” he decided after a moment. You furrowed your brows. “You need sleep too.”
“I can’t get comfortable,” you replied. You let a few seconds pass before adding, “…and I’m too anxious.”
“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Joel promised like if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that.
It meant a lot, it really did. But you huffed out a humorless laugh and went to a worse case scenario. “You’re all the way over there. If an infected wanted to get me, it could. Before you could stop it.”
Joel was quiet for a few beats. You hadn’t meant to insult him, but it was true. It didn’t matter how safe you felt with him there. They were faster than him. Faster than anyone.
“So then come over here,” Joel offered, voice still thick with sleep. It sounded incredibly enticing.
The image of you crawling into his sleeping bag crossed your mind faster than you could stop it. You had to do a double take. “Like… scoot over there?” you tried to clarify inconspicuously.
“If you’re against sharing with me.”
So, he had meant what you’d hoped for. Your heart skipped a little beat and you swallowed.
“I’m not.”
All Joel did was hum. You unzipped your sleeping bag and left the warmth. Joel was ready and waiting when you moved over to him, enveloping you into the safety of his sleeping bag and heavy arms. You wiggled around a little bit until you got comfortable. For the first time since you’d left the QZ, it didn’t take long.
“Thank you,” you mumbled softly, trying to keep your breathing calm. Being so close to Joel was causing you to become less focused on sleep and more focused on the way his breath sounded so close to your ear.
“Mmhhmm,” he hummed from deep in his throat with closed lips. You thought it was going to be left at that, but then you heard his gruff voice. “I know it’s been hard on you.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but he continued. “Even if you’re too stubborn to admit it beyond makin’ snarky comments.”
You took in a breath. He got you on that one, and you both knew it. “Since when do you know me this well?”
“Since always,” Joel pointed out. “You’re easy to read.”
“For you maybe.”
“Yeah, for me,” he agreed, sounding pleased with himself. Joel was silent for a long moment, listening to the soft rustle of your body as you gazed around your surroundings. The grass, the trees, the darkness… “I’m sorry for being so selfish.”
The sudden apology confused you. “What?”
“You’ve never been outside of the QZ before, and for good reason,” Joel started. “It’s a scary world out here and I shouldn’t have subjected you to it. I shouldn’t have brought you along.”
His voice was full of guilt that seemed to come out of nowhere, but given all he had to say you suspected he’d been carrying it since you left.
“I wanted to come with you,” you assured him. You never second guessed that decision despite everything that had happened so far. “Where is this coming from?”
“You’re scared and it’s my fault.” You could hear the deep frown in his voice.
“You’re the reason I feel safe right now,” you said without a second thought. It was true. You wanted him to know that. There was something you wanted to know too, now, and you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you not want me here?”
“I do,” Joel confessed. “That’s why I’m selfish.” There was a pause but you didn’t dare speak. “I didn’t want to be away from you.”
A wave of realization crashed over you.
You wiggled around, turning until you were facing him. You offered him a soft, delicate smile that you hoped he could see despite the dark.
“It almost sounds like you care about me. A lot,” you couldn’t help but tease.
“You know I care about you,” Joel stated, like it was the most obvious thing. Maybe he’d tried to cover it up in the past, but someone would have to be blind to not see that you meant something to Joel.
“I care about you too,” you admitted with much more ease. He knew, though.
Joel, in an uncharacteristically soft gesture, pressed a kiss to your forehead. You could hardly believe it. But it felt nice. You liked the affection. And coming from someone like Joel who never let their guard down, it was significant enough to leave you speechless.
“It’s gonna be daylight soon,” he muttered. “You should try and get some sleep.”
“Yeah, okay,” you agreed with a slight nod. “Just… one more thing.” It took everything you had to be brave enough to say that, and to do what you were going to do next.
There was basically no space between the two of you, but you managed to bring your hand up to Joel’s face and cup his jaw. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
Joel didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. He took charge, but it wasn’t surprising. He had a dominating presence and was rough around the edges, you didn’t think he’d be delicate with you.
Not that you minded.
His lips moved against yours, almost in a frenzy. Like he was scared you’d slip away from him. It was so needy, so passionate. You wished you would’ve done this much, much sooner
Joel found the willpower to break away from the kiss before you. You would’ve happily lost consciousness in order to kiss him for just a few more moments. But then you’d worry him, and you hated to see Joel worry.
But you didn’t see worry when you looked into his eyes. You saw a hint of wonder. You were both staring into a new beginning as you gazed upon one another. He was panting a little, both of your soft breaths intertwining.
“You need sleep,” he reminded you.
Of course he still couldn’t drop the protector role. He wasn’t wrong about that, either. You smiled to yourself, the feel of his lips still ghosting yours despite the distance. You twisted in the sleeping bag without a word, knowing that you’d never be able to sleep facing Joel. You’d probably be too busy staring at him…
So yeah, you laid with your back to his chest and closed your eyes. His arms held you tight against his firm body. Not only providing warmth, but security as well.
“Goodnight,” Joel mumbled to you, already dozing back off. You could hear the soft smile in his voice despite the tiredness. It seemed easier for him to sleep wherever, although you liked to think you were bringing him some kind of comfort as well. With the way he held you against him it wouldn’t be an unrealistic thought.
“Goodnight, Joel,” you replied softly, finally able to relax your breathing. The feel of Joel’s body pressed against you, his strong arms around you—it felt like a dream. Safe and sound, away from the dangers that lie not far off. And soon enough, you were finally able to close your eyes and fall into a peaceful sleep.
#quin-ns writing#joel miller x reader#joel miller#the last of us#pedro pascal#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel x reader#the last of us spoilers#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#ellie williams
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MAGICAL DRYING DISASTER - T . NOTT
Mature Content Ahead
Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader
Summary: After waking up late and discovering you left your washing in the machine over night. You had no other choice to use magic to dry it - except it did dry but also shrunk, massively, in the process. Once Theo finds you let's just say he manages to keep it kept in till the common room. Then it's all fair game from there.
Warnings: SMUT, No Protection - PIV, Theodore is a munch - Fem Oral, Body Worship, Smidge of SubWhiney!Theo, Cursing
A/N: This is my first one-shot fic I've posted in a long time but also my first one EVER on tumblr. I used to write on wattpad and ao3 but took a very long hiatus. So excuse if my smut writing is a bit off or any spelling mistakes I currently have acrylics on - its quite hard to type.
Click Clack.. Click Clack...
You ran towards your class quickly, pulling town the absolute belt of a skirt you wore today before entering into your potions class. Late.
"Miss Neveah.. Thank you for finally joining us" Snape panned. His face expressionless as he stared at you. A slight hint of disapproval in his face.
"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again!" You scurried to your seat beside Pansy.
"It most definitely will not" He groaned before turning back to the chalk board to continue his explanation.
You shimmied on your seat, pulling as much skirt down as you could. Practically flashing those behind you of your bright red thong and gorgeously placed star tramp stamp.
Nice touch is what you thought when you got it a few months ago after a night out in the muggle clubs with Pansy. She persuaded you and said Theo would love it. Or which he did.
"Y/N.. your skirt is practically a belt. Trying to flash us all?" She whispered, giggling as he peered down as your legs, absent of any tights aswell.
"Girl.. It shrunk when I tried to use magic to dry it. All my other skirts are dirty" You pouted. "I also couldn't find a pair of fucking tights, I was running so late"
"Its not that bad, just don't bend over if you can" She smiled as she reached to your ponytail tieing in a little green piece of ribbon into a bow. "And don't let Mr Lover boy see you" She snickered.
You sighed, focusing in the rest of your class. Praying not many people noticed. You were pretty daft thinking that. You were already the hot goss. It was only so long till Theo found out.
Though alot of boys in Hogwarts fancied you, they all knew about Theodore Nott swooping in, in 4th year the year before you 'blossomed' as they said. They say he saw the potential and snatched it up while they could.
You walked down the hall, pulling your books to your chest as your red bottoms clipped the wooden floor that spanned the whole school. Many turned your way gawking as you, mostly more than normal due to tour skirt size today.
You weren't a bad girl. You has good grades, you were overly nice to everyone just the people you hung round with were opposite. Many saying you were too nice.
After a quick detour to pick up an extra book from the library you shuffled down the corridor, your heels clicking their signature click against the oak as you walked towards your friends who stood beside your regular post class meeting pillar.
"Sorry I'm late!" You skipped towards them hurriedly. You watched as Theo whipped his head around, his jaw practically dislodging from his face as he stared at you.
Mattheo wolf whistled as he looked you up and down. Smirking as he pushed himself off the wall - "Damn Y/N, I didn't know you had this hiding somewhere"
"Neither did I" Theo's gaze burned through you as he bent his neck to get look at you from behind. Definitely a sight for sore eyes.
"I'm sorry- I fucked up a spell and I was running late I didn't mean to- OUCH! THEO!" you got cut off as he slapped his hand harshly against your ass before gripping a handful as he smirked down at you. The boys laughing at the pair of you.
"As much as I am thoroughly enjoying the sight Bella" He looked down at you, his gaze growing darker by each word that fell from his lips. He leaned in, practically growling in your ear."I don't like to share amore mio"
You gulped at his words as he pulled his jumper off, wrapping it around your waist. Slightly tugging on the fabric jerking you forward into his chest as he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead softly.
"As cute as you two are, everyone's looking. Can we clear out" Pansy groaned.
You snapped back into reality, quietly ushering an apology to the group as Pansy pulled your hand as you both walked hand in hand ahead of the boys.
You heard a smack and an 'ow' turning around quickly as you turned the corner seeing Theo slapping Mattheo across the head. "Flirt with someone else" He groaned. You giggled slightly at his protectiveness.
Once you arrived to the common room everyone scattered to do their own thing. Theo once more approaching you.
"Now..." a cheeky smile appeared on his lips as his hands held your hips softly as he peered down at you. The height difference really getting to you. "I can't stop thinking about that little skirt on you.." His hands slowly moving down and around to the curve of your ass as he nibbled at his lip. "..and how much I want to fuck you in it" He whispered the last part lowly as his tongue poked out and slid across his bottom lip as he squeezed your ass through his jumper.
"Then do it" You caught his gaze, already out of breath from his minimal touch.
It's like that's all he needed to hear. Like without warning and no regards for the fact your friends were just a few steps away bundled in the corner on the coaches - he pulled you tightly, hand on your ass against him as his lips crushed into yours. Needy kisses as if he hasn't kissed you in months.
The sudden rip of his jumper loosening the knot as it dropped to the floor. His hands sliding under the little fabric the skirt had as his nails gripped into the flesh on your ass cheeks. You yelped slightly and he took that as permission to shove his whole tongue down your throat. The kisses grew messier and messier as you both backed up towards the stairs, bumping into everything possible as you both chuckled.
Breaking the kiss as you both removed various pieces of clothing as you scrambled up the stairs. By the time you got to yours and Pansys' room you both had disregarded of practically everything. Theo quickly finishing unzipping his trousers before pushing you into the room, kicking the leg off quickly, flinging his trousers into the centre of the hallway as he shut the door behind him.
You stood infront of him in just your skirt, bra and panties as he ruffled his hair, staring at you like a kid in a candy shop, pondering what you try next.
"DONT WORRY WE'LL CLEAN UP AFTER YOU TWO!" Draco yelled, annoyance plastered in his voice.
That broke Theo out of the trance he was in as he lunged at you, unclipping your bra swiftly as he threw it across the room before pushing you against the bed.
"Fuck, I'm so hard. I can't- I just need to fuck you now" He groaned, biting at his lip anxiously as he stared down at you. "Get on all fours". You obliged and quickly.
You felt the sudden cold breeze against your clit as he tightly yanked on your thong, splitting it apart at he threw it on the floor aswell as he kicked off his boxers.
"Fuck your so hot" He groaned, dropping to his knees as he gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as he licked a nice wet strip up your pussy.
A moan lodged itself in your neck as you bundled up the sheets in your hands as he let out a shaky breath.
"Wanna eat you out so bad, but my cock is throbbing.. Need to treat you well tho" He whined as he spat into his hand as he began to fuck it. His free hand gripping your ass as he dove his tounge deep into you.
You hung your head forward as you let out an exasperated sigh as your toes curled. Theo's tongue worked wonders inside of you. He ate you out like it was dire need. The roughness of his mouth sopping against your pussy as his tongue drilled into your hole. The wetness of both his mouth and your pussy mixing as he moaned against you as he continued to fuck the shit out of his hand. Loud moans rumbled against you as he sucked and twirled like no tomorrow.
You were drawing to your high as you noticed he stopped, pulling away for a moment as he let out a deep growl before a light whimper escaped his lips as he came up the bottom of your bed frame and on the floor. He panted for a moment, light whimpers leaving gis mouth as he toyed with his sensitive dick.
"Fuck- Sorry Principessa. I came, naughty of me to do so before I helped you. I'll make sure you feel extra good" His other hand colliding with your ass again as he dove back in. His nose rubbing harshly against your slit as he flicked his tongue continously against your clit. Sucking and nibbling at it from time to time as he continued to grip and massage at your ass.
The sudden overwhelming feeling drove you over the age as you screeched, yelping as you squirted all over his face. You gasped loudly, crashing to the bed as your legs shook slightly as you panted.
"Mhmm.. Love it when you squirt" You looked at Theo as he wiped the cum from his face, sucking his fingers like a dessert he's got to finish.
"You're so gorgeous, so fucking beautiful.. Beautiful body" He groaned as he slid his hands up your curves, moaning softly as the scene infront of him. "S'lucky.. So fucking lucky.."
He tapped your thigh, as you led on your stomach on the bed, your legs hanging off the end slightly as your tippy toes held against the floor.
"Gunna make you feel so good, amore" he cooed as he lied up his tip with your slit before thrashing it in harshly. You yelped once again at you looked back at him.
"Going to teach you not. to wear. a slut. short. skirt. again. fuck!" He growled with each thrust as your body jerked against his movements. Your body slid up and down the bed as your feet struggled to stay on the floor much longer as he pushed you up the bed.
It wasn't before long till Theo climbed ontop of you, straddling you as he drilled into you. Loud whimpers left you as you clawed at the sheets as you screamed into his duvet.
"FUCK!! ARGH- TEDDY!" you pleaded as your back arched, shoving your ass harder into him as his hands gripped your hips tightly, his nails scatting cresent moons to your flesh as your bodies recoiled against one another.
"Yes! Like that.. fuckkk Teddy more.. please!" You babbled. He reached over grabbing your neck as he pulled your body up against his chest. Your legs trapped between his as he squeezed them shut. His arm tightly against your stomach as he continued to drill up into your pussy. You gasped and whined continously as he groaned and growled into your ear. His grip growing tighter around your neck as he flexed his biceps, his tongue sliding up your jawline to your ear.
"Teddy- I'm gunna cum! Please please please PLEASE! Cum with me!" you whined as your eyes rolled back. The growing feeling in your stomach as his cock continued to thrash into you. You were drunk on the feeling of him buried into you. You tightly shut your thighs together for any ounce more of pressure you could grasp.
"Good girl- M'close" He panted.
Your eyes began to roll back as you gasped for air at the tightening of his arm around your neck. The bursting feeling in your stomach as your whole body recoiled and shook as you screamed like bloody murder with all the air you has left in your lungs as you came.
At that moment Theo threw you down, as your body twitched conthously. He gripped your ass as he thrusted deep before cumming in you. Groaning deeply as he threw his head back. Sweat trickling down his forehead and chest as he panted heavily.
Neither of you moved for a moment to compose yourself. You occasionally twitched at your body recoiled against his dick.
"Fuck me.. So good" Theo pulled out, sighing as he watched cum pool at your slit and began to slide down. You felt his tip against you again as he collected the escaping cum and slightly fucked it back into you. His dick entering you once more as you gasped at the feeling.
"Good girl.. such a good girl.." His light thrusts as he peppered you with kisses all over your back and shoulders.
He gasped slightly as he froze above you. You were about to question him till you felt a slightly release.
"Did you just cum again Teddy?" You giggled as he thrusted once more before pulling out and collapsing next to you.
"Its hard to last with you. You make me so addicted" He smirked, his head turned to look at you. He rested his hand on your ass, squeezing it lightly from time to time.
"I'm glad this skirt shrunk" He chuckled, his smile wide.
You shook your head as you laughed at him. "You're a fool" You shimmied towards him, flicking your leg over his chest as you cuddled into him. His body warm.
He kissed your shoulder softly before softly kissing your cheek, nibbling at your ear before whispering;
"Ti amo amore mio".
#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott#theo nott x reader#slytherin#slytherin boys#harrypotter fanfiction#slytherin fanfiction#lorenzo zurzolo#theo nott smut#theodore nott smut#angelfrombenethfics
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Spittle - Part 1/2
Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.
Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.
This is what happens when you eat half the bar.
Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.
Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence
Read on AO3: Here
A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.
I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.
From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary.
As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp.
Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.
You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.
You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.
You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?
You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.
As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.
“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”
Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.”
Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”
“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”
You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass?
Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.
“Where did you find this?”
You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.”
He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.
“Well, can you read it or not?”
His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”
That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.
You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.
“It looks like candy.”
“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”
You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.
–
During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent.
You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.
You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.
As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest.
Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.
It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.
When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.
A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..
Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers.
Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.
Astarion.
His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself.
He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.
His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.
“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.
“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”
–
You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.
You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched.
Hot. Why is everything so hot?
It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.
Could this be some sort of illness? A fever?
No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off.
Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.
It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf.
His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -
Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.
A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.
This is - well, you have no idea what this is.
You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.
You’re soaked .
N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared.
“What in the hells…?”
You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve.
You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain.
Pleasure to the point of agony.
The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear.
Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle.
After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat.
But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.
‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.
‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’
It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.
You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”
Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’
You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.
Think, please. There has to be a reason this -
“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”
Shit.
‘Ooh, this one might do!’ You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.
No. No. Absolutely not.
You try not to panic.
Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.
The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before.
You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”
She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat.
“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you.
Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.
“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”
She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.”
‘Well, I think you look delectable.’
You groan.
At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence.
Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.
Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy.
It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.
The disembodied voice squeals with delight.
She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.
“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”
Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?
You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.
A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again.
You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.
“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.”
Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.
#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion#astarion fanfic#astarion x reader#astarion x you#baldur's gate 3#astarion acunin#posting this was like pulling teeth im gonna disappear for a while#my fics#spittle
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Smth I sometimes do that always makes me laugh. When I have little bits of free time, I'll often spend them rereading over my current WIP chapter for minor edits & maybe doing a bit of writing if I can get into it enough. It's on my docs app, but it's essentially reading fic, so I'll sometimes switch apps for whatever reason, then to try to go back to reading... I'll click on my internet browser, rather than the docs app, bc that is the Place To Read Fics in my brain
Then I stare at a page that is NOT what I was just looking and. And I Remember.
#speculation nation#most commonly im sent to either my ao3 stats page or whatever my most recent google search was#my default page i sit on with my browser is my stats page. bc i like to look at it regularly#numbers going up makes the brain go brrrr#during long periods between chapters the kudos and especially comments dont go up much (tho when they do now That is a rush)#but i have a fairly steady stream of hits for discacc even when i havent posted in a while#i like watching them go up. remembering that my fic exists to people even if theyre not talking about it.#Engagement is my number 1 encouragement and i have to convince my brain that ppl still like my work somehow#youd think id be past this by now. but nope lol#i have my way of coping a bit better so im not throwing myself recklessly into writing chapter after chapter#that pursuit of recognition is what got my 70k words in 3 weeks at the start of discacc.#which was pretty great! it certainly caught a good amount of attention from readers lol#but it was Noooot healthy or sustainable for me.#it was also a byproduct of taking that semester off. no way i could do that now.#i am Better at managing the manic energy that just wants Attention. but. it is still there lol#UNRELATED to the original point of the post. aside from the talking about my fic.#anyways hi guys i exist. im working on it.#discacc shit#relevant enough i guess
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Simon Riley x Dog Sitter! Reader pt. 3
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Warnings: mild cursing, boredom, thas really it
A/N: Holy shit I cannot believe how much love this is getting, and it's so much fun to write!! I've decided to makes this a fully fledged fic instead of just a drabble, and I'll be posting it on ao3 too! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Also sorry if formatting changes, I'm trying to have some sort of order among my writing.
Simon had never told you how long he'd be gone - which was fine, your flat was only a twenty-minute drive from his home, should you need to do laundry or get more soap. You had some freelancing logo-design work you could focus on in your downtime, and Simon had been gracious enough to leave a note on the coffee table with the wifi password. Truth be told, you imagined this would feel like a holiday: no more shitty bosses. You were your own boss, here. You could make your own schedule, as long as you made time for Riley.
You soon discovered, after moving into Ghost's house, that it was very much not a vacation. The interior of his home was so barren that it made you feel like you had been sent to an asylum. On your first day there, you managed to get a bit of freelance work done; after that, you tried watching the telly, but you couldn't drown the heavy restlessness in the back of your mind.
You decided to phone a friend.
"What's Riley like?" Leslie said through the phone, which was tucked under your ear.
"Military dog." You replied. You were lying on the floor next to Riley, stroking her fur as her head rested on your stomach. "So proper, I've never seen anything like it. You know- when I made breakfast today, I dropped some food on the linoleum- she didn't bat an eye. Girl just watched."
"That's amazing... you know Donald would have run to it like it was the first meal he'd been fed in years."
You laughed, making Riley's head bounce on your abdomen. "Mum has got to stop feeding them real food..."
"What about the client?" Leslie said, changing the subject. "Simon, was it? What's he like?"
"Honestly?" You began, scratching between Riley's ears. "A decent guy, don't get me wrong - but bland. Gruff. His apartment is, too."
"Just like ya mum always said." She snickered. "Can I see?"
You sighed. "Nah, I never checked if it was ok to bring people over. Not sure if he'd appreciate me giving you a tour. But I'll ask next time if you can visit."
"That's fair..." You heard her shuffling around on the other end of the line. "Well listen babes, I should get back to work. Got five left on my lunch break."
You groaned at the prospect of having to be alone in Simon's barren home again. "Alright... still on for this Thursday?"
"You know it! Nina's coming too."
You grimaced. "Whoop-tee-doo..."
"Oh, c'mon, I'll make sure she's civil. Love ya."
"She'd better be. Love you!"
The call ended with a click, and you let the phone slide from your shoulder with a sigh. You stared at the ceiling, running through what you could possibly do. You'd already had a shower at your flat before coming here, you'd done plenty of work...
Riley tilted her head up to look at you, sensing your frustration. You looked back down at her.
"What d'you and Simon do all day?" You asked.
She sighed and looked away.
Maybe it was time for a walk.
"Alright, Riley!" You said, pocketing your phone and sitting up. She scrambled up at the sudden movement; her eyes followed your every move as you stood, her stare expectant and excited.
"Fancy a walk?" You asked.
She whined and yapped, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
You chuckled. "C'mon, then - before you and I both start going insane."
On your way to the closet to fetch her leash, she had nearly knocked you down to beat you there. You huffed, leaning down to grab your shoes and tug them on. She sat (im)patiently and watched, her tail slapping against the wooden floor.
"Alright, alright..." You laughed, grabbing her leash and latching it onto her harness. She obediently trotted to the front door and sat, waiting for you. You opened the door and stepped outside, confused when the leash tugged in your hand. You looked back inside and saw that Riley hadn't moved from her seat on the floor. She looked at you, ears forward and eyes eager as she waited for... something.
You looked at her, puzzled. "What's wrong, girl?"
She whined, pointing one foot up and thumping her tail against the floor.
Oh, right. Military dog.
"Okay, Riley." You said clearly, and she happily trotted out the door. You chuckled, locking the deadbolt behind you and beginning the much needed walk. She stuck right by your side, never passing you nor falling behind.
For the kind of gruff, admittedly shady man that Simon was, you noticed that he lived in a pretty nice area. If you told your mum where he lived, she'd blow a cap out of jealousy - the houses were neatly lined down the street, each one with a driveway and a small garden bed underneath the living room windows. Simon's was noticeably bare - Christ, even his grass was thinner than the other neighbors', how does one manage that?
You eyed his empty garden bed as you passed it. You wondered if he would let you plant a few things... just to liven up the drabness. A couple of Hostas, maybe some African Violets... you knew he wouldn't want too much colour, but he definitely needed something to brighten his home. Currently, it stuck out like a sore thumb against the other houses. Not to mention, it would give you something to slice through the boredom of staying here.
Eventually, the sidewalk led to the edge of a small patch of woods. A bridge stretched over the creek, which then led to a longer, winding path through the trees. You came to a halt, reading the sign next to the trail.
"Po-wee-hee-co park..." You mumbled and Riley stared at you with her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. "Poeheko Park? You ever been here?"
She looked between you and the trail, sniffing the air. She licked her lips and whined.
"Suppose not, Simon's only ever dragged you around the block a few times, huh?"
She eyed the trail warily, but you could see her eyes brimming with eagerness and interest. You chuckled, reigning in her leash and starting over the bridge. "Time for an adventure!"
------------
Simon sat stoicly on the heli, eyes fixed on the wall across from him. His palms rested on his thighs, fingers splayed. He appeared calm and collected, focused on the mission that Priced had debriefed not too long ago.
Except, the mission couldn't have been further from his mind. He was thinking about you and Riley. We're you giving her enough attention? That was a dumb question; clearly you knew how much attention a dog needed. You'd done this before... but had you ever worked with a dog that had certain needs and medications? You never mentioned it during the interview, and he didn't remember to ask. What if you couldn't see the signs when Riley's pain was flaring up? What if you had forgotten that she needed pain medication?
He thought about texting you - but he quickly shut the thought down. He'd reserved texting for emergencies only, and he knew you were good at your job. There wasn't a moment of your life you hadn't spent around dogs, of course you would take perfect care of Riley.
"Honin' in, LT?" Soap's voice echoed through the coms as he took the seat opposite from Simon. He was relaxed, as if this was just another Friday for him - well, Simon supposed, it was.
"Always." Simon replied gruffly, focusing back on the mission at hand. He cleared his throat and flexed his fingers, trying to keep a cool composure.
"How's Riley doin'?" Soap asked. "Know I jus' seen 'er a few days ago, but- ye finally cave n' get someone to pet sit?"
Simon grunted. "'Course. Not gonna leave 'er alone that long, it'd be torture."
"Who'd ye get?"
"What's it to you?"
"Secret service? Ye snag one of the Royal Guards fer the job?"
"Jog on, Soap." Simon warned with a serious look, and Soap raised his hands in defense.
He couldn't tell Johnny about you. A fierce, possessive feeling in his chest told him not to. He knew Johnny had a thing for young, pretty things like you, and he refused to let you fall victim to his desires. In fact, he hated the thought of it.
But- who was he? Why was he being so protective over someone he barely knew? You were an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions. Why should Simon cockblock you and Johnny? So what if he wanted to shag you?
Mentally, he shook his head. No. Never. He'd lock you in his house if it meant keeping Jonny away from you. Even if Simon wasn't anything more than your client, he wasn't going to allow Johnny to get close to you. It would be too weird. You're his, after all.
...
Fuck.
He sighed and adjusted his position in his seat. You and Johnny didn't even know each other, for Christ's sake. He was overthinking all of this. You'd probably never even meet his team, why would you need to? You only ever have reason to spend time in his house, not on base. You just watch Riley, make breakfast in his kitchen, sleep on his couch, maybe his bed, if you're with the dog... using his bathroom, his shower...
He scowled at himself. Maybe hiring you was a huge mistake. You were too distracting.
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#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost#simon ghost riley#cod fanfiction#cod mw3#cod mw2#call of duty#cod#cod x reader
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