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specialagentartemis · 11 months

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I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

#history #history and the world #misinformation

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rileyslibrary · 20 days

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The elderly lady who owns the convenience store in Simon’s neighbourhood needs help with a faulty fridge. You tag along with Simon and discover more about him than you ever expected.

A/N: Fluff. Cosy read.

———————————————————————

“It’s right there,” Simon says, pointing down the street. “Just need to take care of something quickly.”

You follow his outstretched arm to a convenience store nestled on the corner. Furrowing your brows, you glance back at the street you had just walked down, spotting Simon’s house. It’s very close, you think to yourself. Maybe a three-minute walk away.

That’s weird. You’ve taken that same road to and from Simon’s house many times, yet this is the first time you’ve noticed the store.

Turning your attention back, you look closer at your destination. No wonder you never paid much attention to it. The store seems old and rather inconspicuous, blending into its surroundings seamlessly. Everything is understated, from the building to its decor—if you could even call it that. To the left of the entrance, there’s a stand of old magazines, and on the right, a table with two chairs catches your eye. You glance up at the sign above the entrance.

“Mary Mart,” you read aloud.

“That’s right,” Simon confirms, opening the door and triggering a bell to jingle. “Mary should be inside.”

He holds the door open for you, yet his gaze remains fixed on something inside the store. You step in and follow his line of sight to a lady holding a newspaper up to her face. That must be Mary, you presume.

“You alright, Mary?” Simon asks softly.

Yup, that’s definitely her. The newspaper covers most of Mary’s petite frame as she sits behind the counter. She seems so absorbed by her reading that she didn’t hear you come in.

Simon sighs and shakes his head. He gently taps the back of the newspaper to get her attention. Mary lowers the paper to her nose, and her face lights up immediately at the sight of Simon.

“Didn’t see you there!” Mary shouts, lowering the newspaper to the counter. “You alright, my dear?”

“Yes, Mary,” he murmurs, “neither did you see nor hear us.”

“What?” Mary asks, letting go of the newspaper and cupping her ear.

Simon taps his own ear, indicating that Mary needs to adjust her earpiece. Mary’s eyes widen, and she quickly follows Simon’s lead, turning her earpiece on. She gives him a nod.

“Better now?” Simon asks.

“Much, much better,” Mary confirms, then turns to you with a broader smile. “And who do we have here?”

You politely nod, introducing yourself to Mary, but Simon interjects before you say much.

“So tell me, Mary,” He says, glancing towards the back of the store where the fridges are, “which one’s acting up?”

“Oh, I can’t remember, dear, but it’s hard to miss it,” Mary replies, sighing. “It’s the one with the towels underneath. Keeps dripping water.”

Simon nods, his gaze still focused on the fridges. He begins heading towards the back of the store, and you instinctively follow behind him.

“How lovely of you, Simon,” Mary’s voice sounds from behind you. “Bringing me some company while you take care of that fridge.”

You stop in your tracks, and Simon does, too. Point taken, Mary. You glance towards Simon, and he gives you a nod.

“She’s harmless,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “And a pretty nice lady.”

“Don’t be long.” You whisper back. “We still need to go get some breakfast.”

Simon nods and continues to the back of the store. With a sigh, you return to the counter where Mary is and settle into a nearby chair.

“Anything newsworthy?” You ask.

“Nothing much, dear,” Mary replies, adjusting her newspaper. “The weather’s terrible, the economy’s getting worse, and people won’t stop killing each other.”

“Oh...” you murmur, “yeah, that’s bad.”

“Well, at least Boots has 20% off on all moisturizers,” she announces, slightly more enthusiastically than one might expect for moisturizers. She picks a pair of scissors from under the counter and starts snipping the voucher.

With Mary on a mission to get that 20% off of that newspaper, you take the opportunity to peek at Simon. He’s kneeling in front of the fridge at the back of the store, focused on the appliance. Occasionally, his brow slightly furrows as he inspects the faulty machine. Then he pauses, nods, and grabs tools or shifts his position to get a better look at it. You, on the other hand, have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you care. You are hungry and caffeine-deprived. You’re pretty sure Simon feels the same way.

Meanwhile, Mary has finished cutting through the voucher and returned to her reading. She often flips through the pages and snaps the newspaper to straighten it and remove wrinkles. Sometimes, she hums, acknowledging her current read. Other times, she clicks her tongue disapprovingly at whatever news she comes across.

And you? Well, you’re bored out of your mind, so you begin scanning the shelves and displays, taking in the assortment of merchandise neatly arranged throughout the store. Your eyes briefly pause on various items—a stack of magazines, a display of snacks, a row of household essentials—before finally settling on an old photograph hanging behind Mary.

In the photograph, a young man wearing a military uniform stands confidently. He appears to be in his late twenties and sports a well-kept moustache. Rather than looking straight ahead, his gaze seems to be directed right behind you. He looks confident. Strong. He feels present, even if he’s not here.

“Handsome, huh?” Mary asks, peering over her glasses before turning towards the picture behind her. “That’s my Walter right there.”

You clear your throat and nod. “Very handsome indeed,” you confirm. “Is he your husband?”

“Was,” Mary corrects with a wistful smile, her eyes drifting back to you. “My very first and last one.”

“Which war?” you ask, gesturing towards his uniform.

“You mean which war he served in or which war he died in?”

“Both,” you shrug.

“Served in too many,” she says proudly, lowering her gaze to her newspaper. “But the war my Walter lost had no guns or weapons.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Mary looks up from her newspaper, meeting your eyes with a tilt of her head and a warm smile.

“Coffee?” she offers but doesn’t let you respond. She has already turned her back to you, brewing a fresh pot.

“No, thank you,” you reply. “We intend to grab some on our way to breakf-”

“I don’t think Simon will finish anytime soon, dear,” she interjects.

“Then yes, please,” you reply, then mouth a silent ‘shit’ to yourself so that Mary doesn’t hear you. You peek once more at the back of the store where Simon is.

“He’s handsome as well, isn’t he?” Mary states, with her back still turned towards you.

You blush at Mary’s observation and look down at the gum assortment in front of the counter. “Yes,” you agree, nodding with a smile. “Yes, he is.”

“Met at the base?” She asks, pouring you a cup of coffee.

“You know where we work?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It takes one to know one, dear,” she says, turning towards you and handing you a cup of coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” you reply. “So you also served in the military?”

Mary’s expression shifts, her face lighting up as she lifts her index finger.

“Serve!” she exclaims, “Silly me; I forgot to serve the biscuits!”

She retrieves a plate covered with tin foil from below the counter and uncovers it, pushing the platter towards you. You politely decline, thanking her for the offer. But Mary insists.

“I made them myself,” she tells you warmly.

“And I’m sure they taste lovely, but-”

“Take the biscuit,” Mary commands sternly, yet still smiling.

You look up at her, and without looking back at the plate, you take a biscuit. You don’t know which one you picked, what flavour it is, or if there are any allergens in it. Mary’s assertiveness is enough to make you pop it right into your mouth.

Her smile widens. “Good?” she asks.

The biscuit is indeed good. Very good. But even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t dare say otherwise—not only out of respect for Mary’s age but also because something tells you she might have more experience than the convenience store owner she portrays herself to be.

“They are amazing, Mary,” you reply and swallow.

“Simon likes those too,” she states proudly. “I often bring some over when I bake them.”

“So you live nearby?” You ask, swallowing another bite of the biscuit.

“I’m his landlord,” Mary reveals, nudging the plate of biscuits closer to you, “help yourself to another.”

You oblige and take another biscuit, and Mary continues once you take a bite.

“So,” she begins, blowing the steam off her coffee, “I’ve seen you plenty of times in my neighbourhood.”

“I, um,” you lift one shoulder and idly pick up a pack of chewing gum from the assortment in front of you. “I do come by often.”

“I know,” she replies, sipping her coffee. “You’ve been passing by my store a lot lately.”

You subtly turn your head towards Simon’s direction, letting your hair fall to the side of your face to conceal your blushing cheeks from Mary’s view. Yet she doesn’t seem to let go.

“He’s a good lad,” Mary states. Always there when neighbours need him, ready to lend a hand.”

“Indeed, he’s very good with his hands.” You reply.

“You know best, my dear,” Mary remarks, smirking.

“I meant with fixing things!” You say, widening your eyes. “He’s good with his hands when it comes to fixing things!”

Mary chuckles knowingly. “He’s also quite popular with the ladies—both the single and the taken ones,” she continues.

“Oh, is he now?” You respond in a high-pitched voice, narrowing your eyes. You turn your body towards Mary, placing the chewing gum package back in its original position.

“Yes,” she confirms, leaning over the counter. “Simon never rejects the attention, being such a good-looking lad, but at the same time, he never reciprocates.”

“How do you know he doesn’t reciprocate?”

“Oh, you’d be impressed what people say in front of an old lady who, allegedly, forgets to switch her earpiece on.” She says, winking at you.

“So, women flirt with him, huh?”

Mary throws her head back and chuckles, flicking her wrist at you. “Oh please, my dear,” she says in between chuckles, “I would have practically done the same if I was fifty years younger and Walter wasn’t around.”

“And he doesn’t flirt back?” You ask.

“No, not really, but he used to be friendly with them.” She explains, tilting her head toward you. “And then something changed.”

You shift in your seat and lean forward. “What?” You ask, intrigued. “What changed?”

Mary leans closer, sliding the biscuit platter toward you.

“Mary, I should probably lay off the biscuits,” you say. “We’re supposed to be heading out for breakfast, remember?”

“Make it a brunch, dear, or whatever you young people call it nowadays,” she replies. “Simon won’t be fixing the fridge anytime soon.”

“How do you know?” you ask. “You just said he’s great at fixing things.”

“Not when there’s nothing wrong with the fridge in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“I detached the defrost drain to simulate water leakage,” she explains. “It’s an easy fix, but you can oversee it quite easily, especially when the fridge is as old as I am.”

“You tinkered with the fridge on purpose?” you ask, eyes wide with surprise. “Why?”

“Oh please,” she sighs, rolling her eyes, “I had to bring you both here somehow.”

You glance at the cookie platter. Understanding that you won’t get any more information from Mary unless you indulge, you grab another cookie and pop it into your mouth. Mary, the ‘insert-biscuit-here-to-continue’ lady, takes the cue and continues.

“And then, as I was saying, you began to visit more often,” she explains, glancing over at Simon. “And his reaction to all the attention shifted.”

“You need to elaborate a little bit more, Mary,” you press. “How exactly did it change?”

“Girlfriend!” she exclaims in a hushed tone, widening her eyes at you. “He says he has a girlfriend!”

You widen your eyes, just like her, and point at yourself. She nods and points back at you.

“And then there’s the toothbrush,” she continues. “He bought two! A green one and a pink one.”

“He gave me a pink toothbrush when I stayed over for the first time!” you whisper. “Said he’d bought it ages ago and forgotten about it!”

“He bought a pink toothbrush as a spare for himself?” She asks, and her eyes narrow. “Nonsense! It wasn’t too long ago, and I have the receipts.”

“You keep receipts for these things, Mary?”

“No, silly,” she shakes her head. “It’s for tax purposes.”

“Right, so, I’m the girlfriend apparently,” you murmur, massaging your temples. “But why are you telling me all this?”

“Simon isn’t much of a talker, dear,” Mary explains, her tone softening. “Not to mention the horrors he’s been through. Sometimes, you might even misunderstand him because of it. But I’ve known him for a long time. He’s like family to me. Sometimes, when words fail him, I feel the need to speak on his behalf.”

“So you’re looking out for him,” you conclude, slowly nodding.

“Like the child I never had,” Mary confirms with a warm smile, pouring another cup of coffee. “And I can see how much he cares about you. But he’s not always good at expressing it. That’s why I thought I’d give you a little hint.”

“Thank you, Mary,” you say. “I appreciate you looking out for us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she says, handing you the extra coffee. “Now, how about you go over there and tell Simon to take a break? You can use the chairs outside while I go and reattach the defrost drain to the fridge.”

“Sure thing,” you reply and grab the coffee. “I just have one more question.”

“Go ahead,” she says.

“If Simon asks me what we’ve been talking about, what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I was rambling about the weather, the economy, and the 20% voucher from Boots,” she suggests, winking. “You’re a smart girl; that’s why he picked you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #cod ghost

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ghostskiss · 9 months

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Handle It

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader WC: 5.1k Summary: Reader is taking a shower and someone decides to crash the party. Warnings: 18+ Exhibitionism (risk of getting caught), shower sex (kinda), SUB SIMON, teasing, begging, sub to dom to…sub, finger sucking, oral, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, spit, creampie

Hot water beads down your back. Well, maybe that’s a bit too generous. It’s hardly trickling out of the showerhead above you, and the water’s lukewarm at best. But it feels great, your eyes are closing, your muscles are relaxing, and you almost forget that it’s a communal shower. That anyone could walk in and join you at another showerhead, there’s several in here, meant to get a group of people clean to save time. Time’s important in the military, you know this. So does everyone else, but there’s an unspoken rule. If someone’s in the showers, you don’t join unless absolutely necessary.

Which is why you’re allowing yourself this moment. You’d announced to the group that you were hitting the showers after the operation. And true to your word, as soon as you’d stepped out of the vehicle, you beelined it to the building. Soap joked about joining you, earning a punch from someone in result. You hadn’t cared to look behind you to confirm who it was, instead you’d waved a hand over your shoulder, acknowledging that you’d heard him, but wasn’t threatened by his constant yet harmless flirts. It was how you two communicated. It was a nice break in the violence and mayhem Task Force 141 found yourselves in. Even if Ghost and Price rolled their eyes at the banter, you could tell it eased their nerves at times. It’s hard to hold onto humanity when you see the worst of it day end and day out.

Getting the bar of soap into your hands, you rub it against your skin, ridding yourself of the dirt and grime from today’s work. It’s normal to get dirty doing what you do, and yet no matter how you wash yourself, it feels as though you’re never clean. You’d scrubbed your skin raw once, after a mission, coming out of the showers with irritated skin. Still. You were never clean. Today didn’t feel like that. The operation went well. There was no killing, no torture, and for once, it was an easy day. You want to savor this feeling, knowing that today went right, how relaxing the water is, feeling somewhat clean despite the past.

A knock rings through the showers, bouncing off the walls. The soap slips through your fingers as you jump with sound, the relaxing feeling you had now long gone. The knock has authority to it. It has impatience. Gritting your teeth, you rinse off quickly before turning the knob to shut the water off. You leave the poor soap on the ground, moving to the cement wall separating the showers from the door of the building.

“What?” You call out, a little irritated. Sure, you’d been in here for a bit longer than normal. But it was the one time you’d actually felt…nice.

A deep voice from behind the closed door comes to you. You resist an urge to roll your eyes. Ghost.

“Been in there a bit. Other people would like to clean themselves before heading in for the night.”

This, you do roll your eyes at. He’s right. You’re hogging the shower, but there’s an unspoken…thing you have against Ghost. He’s stoic and a bit miserable to be around if you’re being honest. He’s too serious, all the time, he never likes to have fun, and if you and Soap are going back and forth, he’s got to voice his displeasure. You secretly think he’s jealous. You think that he either is jealous of the relationship you have with Soap, or he’s jealous of Soap. Probably the former since you two can hardly stand each other.

Sighing out, you cross your arms over your naked chest. Right, you’d almost forgotten where you were.

“Well,” you start out, a bit snarky, “there’s always room, Lt.”

You’re joking, obviously, already moving to wrap a towel around your body. Without waiting for whatever response your lieutenant is trying to muster up, you cross the space from the cement wall to the door, hand gripping the handle to wrench it open.

There he is, in all his glory, towering over you. He’s ditched the mask he wears in operations or important meetings, donning his comfortable skulled balaclava. In fact, he’s changed out of most of his gear. Bare hands, black Henley shirt rolled up to his elbows. Of course, his lower half is clothed in his usual black pants, and he still has his boots on. Yet he looks more naked and vulnerable than you do in your little white towel. He looks at a loss of words.

A playful look crosses your features, a smirk teasing your lips as you prop a hand on your hip. Before you can get a word out, Ghost shifts forward quickly with a grumble tumbling out of his chest, pushing you back into the building with his presence alone. You frown a bit as you move backwards to accommodate his size as the door behind him closes you both in, confused as he glares down at you.

“Christ, could you not waltz around in nothing but bloody a towel?”

Another attempt to not roll your eyes comes over you. “What’re you, shy? It’s not like I’m completely naked.” You gesture at yourself; it’d be as if you were wearing a strapless dress. Granted, the towel is tiny, you’re wet from the shower, and you’re definitely not wearing any panties. Still, you had no idea Ghost was such a prude.

“Really?” Ghost’s gaze trails hotly down the front of your body. Suddenly your face feels hot. He’s never once looked at you like this. Like he’d…

A shaky breath escapes you before you laugh it off, “If you can’t handle me in a towel after shower, I doubt you’d be able to handle being around me in the actual showers.” You jerk a thumb over your shoulder as you watch his gaze follow it behind you. He can see the room of showers over the wall. You think you see his jaw clench under his mask.

This is bad. You’re jokingly teasing him the way you and Soap talk. This is uncharted territory, and you’re not sure you can keep the act up. With Soap, it’s harmless fun. You both know you’re not interested in each other. It’s easy to try to get a reaction out of each other, to see who says the most ridiculous shit first. It’s a stupid game. With Ghost, it’s dangerous. It’s nerve wrecking. It’s serious because he’s serious.

Suddenly he’s looking back down at you. You try not to fidget as you stare back at him. You can’t read him. You’re about to talk to break whatever this tension is, about to tell him the showers are his.

“No, I probably can’t.”

Did his voice drop an octave? Why was it making your skin heat? What was going on right now? You feel like your brain is malfunctioning. Your gaze drops down to the broad slope of his shoulders, and down his frame, distracted a bit. Of course, he’s attractive. You’d be insane to not think so. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It’s the way he holds himself, it’s the way he’s built, it’s his damned voice, and his eyes and everything else. But he’s your lieutenant for Christ’s sake. He’s mean sometimes. He’s ruthless, a brute, a –

“Let me see. I want to try. To… handle it.”

You freeze, eyes shooting back up to his. “You -?”

His chin dips to your towel, “Take it off.”

For a moment, you’re both watching each other. Ghost’s got his eyes on yours, unwavering. He’s really serious about this, you realize. Your thighs are clenching together now, trying to relieve the ache. You were joking, you think, about him not handling it in the showers. Now you’re thinking maybe you’re the one who can’t.

Shakenly, your hands raise to the knot tied at your breast. Your actions stop for a moment, silently waiting for him to tell you to stop. The command never comes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, bearing yourself for your broody and moody higher up. For him. All because you don’t want to back out on what you started. Suddenly, you want to prove him wrong. That he can’t handle it. That you’re not affected at all by his words or actions, or more importantly his inactions. The towel drops.

It’s loud with how silent it is in the room. Who knew a damp towel could be so loud? Your gaze doesn’t leave his, holding it, even as you stand bare in front of him. A smirk quirks your lips. He’s avoiding looking at you. That’s how he thinks he can move around the situation at hand.

Testing him, your hand brushes against your own collarbone, trailing slowly -- tantalizingly slow. Still, his eyes never wander from your own. So, this is how you could play games with Ghost. It’ll be fun to see him break.

“You’re not looking,” you start, stating the obvious.

“Never said I had to. Only said that I could handle being around you.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he won the game.

You laugh a little at that, and watch his eyes ever so slightly dip to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Your own hands are wandering your body now, groping a bit at your chest. His hands clench at his sides.

“Are you going to take a shower, Lt?” A breathless noise leaves you as you ask, your fingers pinching one of your nipples. Fuck him. You’re so turned on right now it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to look. Just the thought of being here in front of him while he’s fully clothed doing this, while the two of you are alone and anyone could walk in –

“No. And quit that.” He growls out, knocking your hand away from your breast. He still hasn’t looked, but you’re guessing he’s getting a view from his peripherals.

“Quit what?” You feign innocence, your hand that’d been knocked away now dips in between your thighs eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You said you’d try. If you’re not going to take a shower, you can watch.”

Ghost has no words for you now, his pupils dilating before your very eyes. Spreading your legs a bit wider to get a better reach on yourself, you continue. Slow pressing circles on your clit, your arousal slicking loudly in the air. Your free hand goes back up to your tits, to continue groping, pinching, pulling.

Finally, he breaks. He breaks when your pussy squelches around your own fingers, his burning gaze trailing down your body to the hand that’s pulling such noises out of you. A groan sets loose from him, and you shudder from the mere sound.

“Kneel.”

Ghost’s eyes shoot back up to yours in question.

“Kneel, I said. You can get a better look.” Your tone is set in stone. Despite the burning ache you’ve got, the need for him to touch you, you feel in control.

He hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down to the ground, knees pressing against the cement. His eyes have yet to leave yours.

“You can look but don’t touch.” Your breath hitches, arousal seeping into your very being seeing him like this. Listening to your commands. You watch his hands clench on his thighs, his attention going back to your pussy. Your breath hitches at his stare, feeling the heat of it. He doesn’t have to touch for you to feel his attention. It’s making you sloppy, messy, and wet. You keen, a brief thought of asking him to touch you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Staring down at him as your fingers continue to tease yourself, you watch him just as intently as he’s watching you. He seems fixated. You wonder if he’s drooling in his own mask. The front of his pants looks tight. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, his shoulders shuddering when you make a noise in the back of your throat. You watch him tense as you ease a finger in yourself. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for attention, you’re teasing yourself just as much as you’re teasing him. Slowly pumping the one finger in yourself, you press another one in, mewling out as your hips buck a little upward.

“Let me taste you.” He rushes out suddenly. Ghost’s voice is gravel, scrapping across your body. Your head nearly tips back at the sound of it, another pitiful noise leaving your mouth.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You shake your head, unable to give him an actual answer as your fingers create a devastatingly slow pace, slick coating your fingers and thighs.

“Fuck. What’ll take? Let me taste you.” He’s demanding now, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the material over his thighs.

You pant, trying not to stammer. “Beg.” It comes out stronger than you feel right now. Core burning with the need to come.

“Please.” He grits out through his teeth, angry eyes coming up to your glassy ones.

“You don’t sound sincere.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head again. Your fingers pause, coming out to press softly against your clit. If you press any harder, you have no doubt you’ll come. You don’t want to give it to him yet. Ghost watches the action, a growl coming from him.

“Please,” he tries again, looking back up at you to see if it was good enough. It’s not and you tsk at him. “Please, let me taste your pussy. Let me put my mouth on you. Please.”

The last plead is strained, almost a whine. Your fingers dip back in, curling as you pump them again. Your head falls forward a bit with a whine of your own and you try to gather your bearings. “How are you going to taste me with your mask on?”

Quickly, he tugs it upward, only exposing his mouth. Christ. His mouth. He’s got a scar running down his lips. His jaw is clenched, and you curse whoever created him. He’s handsome, even if you’re only seeing the bottom half of his face. You watch his tongue tease his full bottom lip, his mouth opening into a soft pant. He’s eager. You catch another whine in your throat, fingers leaving your pussy to press against his mouth, covered in your own wetness. He opens his mouth, latching onto them, sucking and licking, taking anything you have to offer.

You watch with a newfound feeling. Here you have your lieutenant on the ground, kneeling and begging, sucking your fingers like it’s his God given right. Like he has something to prove. That he’s desperate enough to be debased to nothing. He’s moaning at the taste of you, following your fingers as they leave his mouth, like he’s not ready to stop cleaning yourself from them. He’s tilting closer as he watches them disappear back to your throbbing sex.

“No,” you tell him, stopping him from following your fingers all the way, “that’s all you get.” You moan out, your fingers wet with his spit now circling your clit. You need to come like this, having him at his knees in front of you.

“W-wait. Please. I’ll do anything. Fuck, please. Let me give you what you want, I can make you cum. With my mouth please –”

His begging sends you over the edge, not stopping as you cry out loudly, pussy clenching on nothing as your fingers circle and circle. It’s long and crippling, and you almost feel your knees buckle, your free hand gripping the cement wall behind you. Fuck, he’s not shutting up. It drags it out, hearing him whine and beg, a man who you thought could never be like this. You rip your hand away from yourself, panting, thankful for the wall behind you holding you up. Your thighs are quivering and wet from the orgasm, breath trying to catch up to your pounding heart.

Ghost is quiet now, looking up at you, waiting for your next move. His mouth parts, like he’s going to start up again and you hush him.

“Clean me up.”

You barely have the sentence out before he’s shooting forwards, hands gripping your thighs to make room for himself. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, tongue latching onto your already overstimulated clit. You cry out, hands shooting up to his masked head, trying to pull him away as he laps at your cream.

“A-ah, wait, Simon –” You start, squirming, trying to get away from his mouth and tongue. You feel him smile, the bastard.

“Think you can tease me like that? Huh?” He growls as he laps at you, tongue not missing an inch of your pussy. His words vibrate through you, not bothering to really pull away to talk. He’s violent in the way his mouth attacks you. “Think you can just do what you want to me?”

You stutter, about to apologize until he starts to add his fingers to the mix. Two thick fingers of his slam into you, pumping up as his tongue flicks your clit. You cry out, tears in your eyes as you take it. He’s going to make you come again, this fast. Too fast. You feel dizzy, vision fuzzy.

“Making me sit in front of this pretty pussy and not letting me touch or taste it.” He groans, and then chuckles as you bare down on his fingers, clenching hard. “Oh, you gonna come again pretty baby? Come on then.”

He’s mean. Meaner than you were to him. You’re panting, quivering, and aching, your pussy making obscene noises as he assaults all of your senses. You know you’re coming before you feel it. Like a delayed reaction. Gasping and bucking, he’s saying something again that you can’t register because your hearing leaves you, your sight leaves you, every sensation and thought is gone as you cry out, coming and coming again. Somehow in the midst of it, his fingers and mouth leave as you come back down to your body, and he’s holding you up, thank God. You doubt the wall behind you would’ve helped at all. Your fingers are clenched on the material of his mask, and as you blink down at him, chest heaving, you see his wet mouth smirk.

A flash of fear goes through you. This was the Ghost you know. The ruthless, cold, domineering, Simon Ghost Riley. Not the man that’d been on his knees begging. Not the man who’d let you command and tease him. He sets down the leg that’d been over his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’re still completely all together. He stands to his full height, and you shiver, trying to sink yourself back into the wall behind you as much as you can. His hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it gently as he tilts your head back.

“Open.”

You obey, lips parting, mouth opening. Nothing could prepare you for what he does next. He leans into you, pressing up hard against you, lips barely hovering your own. He spits. Fluid enters your mouth, and you moan, swallowing it up. It’s your own arousal, sweet and warm and oh. Your wet lashes flutter shut as Ghost licks the seam of your closed mouth, lapping at you before he nips and bites and kisses you. The kiss he’s giving you isn’t gentle. It’s consuming and you cry into it as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck to haul him closer to you. He answers your cry with a groan of his own, his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs come around him, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close. Your sensitive pussy is pressed and rubbing against pants, the feeling abrasive and raw but you can’t stop from grinding against him.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Simon mutters against your lips, licking and biting still. You’re breathless and whimpering against him, his words going straight to your core as you move against him. He’s helping you, moving with your hips, matching you move for move. You’re distracted, unable to give him an answer as you kiss him back, your trembling fingers sliding a bit under his mask to grasp the back of his neck. He hisses out in pain when your nails dig in. “I’ll give you anything baby, please. Just say the words.”

“I – I want…” you gasp, your clit pressing against the seam of his pants. You can feel his length hard and heavy against you.

“Fuck, please. Please tell me.” He’s begging again, rutting his hips up against you, hands keeping you still as he continues.

“I want you.” Is all you can muster; all you can think about saying. You swear your brain isn’t working correctly. Even before this started. You must’ve hit your head during the mission.

"Want me? Want me to what?” He stops moving.

You groan out in frustration, head tipping back a bit before you look up at him. “Please, Simon. You’re teasing me now.” You’re not sure you like how quickly the tables have turned.

Ghost laughs a bit, breathless himself. You think he’s going to drag it out further until he sees the pout furrowing your brow. “Alright. I am. I’ll give it to you.” He still keeps you wrapped up against him, one hand holding you, the other going in between the two of you. His knuckles brush against your bare sex and you moan lowly, watching him unbuckle his pants, pulling his hard cock out. Precum is dripping down the length of it and your throat dries at the sight of him.

Concern must be showing on your face with how big he is. Another chuckle from him, “You can take it pretty baby.” Your concern dies out as he slides the length against your wet pussy and you bite down on lip, trying to contain your noises. You want him in you, size be damned. He runs the tip up and down once more before pressing against your entrance, pushing in slowly. This time, you can’t contain the low moan you have. He gives it to you slowly, pumping his hips up into you, letting you adjust to his size. It’s stretching you open, and you feel like he’s splitting you in half. It’s heavy and deep and throbbing –

“Oh.” You let out, almost surprised it feels so good. Addicting. You feel drunk.

A sadistic laugh comes from the man in you, his cock slowly pumping into you. He’s being nice, giving it to you this softly. His hands are pulling you back onto his cock, pinning you against the wall and his hard body. Your legs tighten around him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“That’s it. It’s all yours, isn’t it?” Ghost dips down to nip your lips as you whimper. “Been wanting this pussy wrapped around me for so long, baby. Fuck.” He moans lowly as you keen at his words, clenching around his girth. “Teasing me when you have no idea what I’d do to you. For you.”

He’s going slow, dragging this out as long as possible. He’s pressing in deep, rolling his hips before pulling slowly back, letting you feel every inch of him before starting all over again. It’s driving you insane. It feels like it’s going on forever, his slow thrusting. He rocks into your soaking cunt, easing his throbbing cock in you smoothly and repeatedly. Ecstasy has taken hold of every fiber of your being. You hardly feel conscious, as his words lull you into lust, his cock pacifying you into drunken state. He won’t shut up again as you cry against his lips.

“Pussy feels so good. So good. Fuck. You can have this dick whenever you want baby, just say the word and it’s yours.” He moans lowly, the sloppy sounds of your pussy and his hips thumping into you with languid strokes are overpowering your thoughts. His words make your pussy clamp down on him and he moans again, not afraid to let you hear how good you’re making him feel.

“Si—” you gasp, mouth falling open against his, trying to pull him up closer to you.

“Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Fuck.” He rasps against you, his hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your broken moans.

“F-fuck me. Please fuck me. Simon, please.” You beg, not afraid to be pulled down to your knees like he had been. To be debased to nothing just as you had done to him.

He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. Eager again to please you. You know he could’ve done what you had to him, teased you, made you beg more, made you want and want and need. But he gives it to you, just like he promised he would. Your pussy flares as his thrusts get heavier, deeper, faster, rougher. It’s destroying you as much as it’s freeing you and your eyes roll back a bit. God, you’re going to cum again.

A knock sounds. Not unlike the one Ghost pounded on the door earlier. You gasp, trying to stop running to the hurdle you’re launching towards. Your body doesn’t get the memo, or doesn’t care, and it certainly seems Ghost couldn’t care less that someone is right outside the door. The man makes a frustrated noise, at you or the knock, you’re not sure. He clamps his hand down over your mouth as you try to contain the noises you’re currently making. You want to tell him to stop, someone’s right there, but he keeps fucking you. God, he’s so mean and cruel and –

“Lt?”

Your heart shudders in fear. Soap. No, God, no one can see this. Ghost fucking you against the wall, completely clothed, unrushed. Despite the fear of being caught, you feel a whine catch in your throat as you thrash again Simon’s relentless fucking. He hushes you quietly, slamming roughly into you now. You stop a squeal, but just barely, a loud yet pathetic squeak leaving you as euphoria bursts through you, pussy convulsing around his cock.

“Just a sec, Johnny.” Ghost throws over his shoulder, a smile playing on his handsome face. He hardly sounds phased even when just moments ago he was the one loudly moaning into your mouth. He hardly sounds winded even with the rough thrusts he’s delivering into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You claw weakly at his chest, angry at him, still coming down from the heaven he just gave to you.

You think Soap leaves, you’re not sure, but Ghost moves his hand from your mouth, back to your ass to bring down onto his cock. He’s using you now, making you meet him thrust for thrust, drilling your G-spot with such precision that your vision fades for a second.

“No, look at me. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so pretty baby. Such a good girl. You gonna let me fill you up now? Haven’t I been good enough for you? Huh?” He’s mocking a bit, but serious. His own form of a joke that you have no power or brain to call him out on. All you’re feeling, all you’re thinking about is his cock ravaging you from the inside, still, overstimulated. Your body hardly cares. It’s right there, right at the edge, ready to jump and to give him your all. You’re too dumb, blinded with pleasure, staring up at him as he growls down at you, throbbing cock ready to give it to you when you say the words. Maybe he really is under your command after all.

A whine comes from you, frantically nodding to him, hands scrambling on him to try to find solid ground while you’re in a different time and space with the fucking he’s giving you.

“No, you have to tell me baby. Fuck, tell me I’m good baby. Tell me I was good, and I can fill you up.” Simon’s begging, whining lowly in the back of his throat, his hips getting sloppier and shorter, pounding into you.

“You’re good. You’re good. Simon, you’re good. It’s so good. Please, pleasepleaseplease come in me.” You’re begging, sobbing, actually, tears streaming down your face as you try to catch up with your body. It hurts, it hurts so fucking good, you make a long and agonized noise against his mouth, he’s kissing you again, sucking your tongue, running his against your teeth, pulling sucking overstimulating –

Simon makes his own devastated noise, a low and shattering groan of pleasure and you feel it just as you’re coming, milking him into you. His cock is surging into you, pumping hot cum with each deep thrust. He’s grinding into you, fucking you both through your orgasms, making you see stars as you cry into his mouth, fingers tearing into his back through his shirt. His hips finally still after what seems to be eternity, your pussy still clenched around him. He keeps himself deep in you as you both try to gather your bearings as well as your breath. You’re staring at each other, panting, chests heaving. He brings a shaky hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he runs his thumb over your tears. The tenderness makes your heart clench. All he’s done tonight surprised you. He leans down to place a kiss against your lips as tenderly as the thumb that stroked you. You kiss him back gently, a little worried where this was going to leave the two of you.

He pulls back, eyes bouncing in between your own. He seems to sense your worry and he sighs, pulling out slowly. You almost want to cry at the loss of him. Ghost sets you down steadily, keeping his hands on you as you wobble, legs weak. You hold onto him and look back up, ready to question what the hell this meant. He shakes his head a bit and nods towards the showers.

“I think I can handle taking a shower with you. But it’s gotta be quick baby.”

Shocked, you stare at him incredulously before you burst out into a terrible laughing fit. You’d almost forgotten how you got here in the first place. You watch his mouth quirk up into his own smile before he starts to laugh a little too. You grab his hand, tugging him with you towards the showers.

“C’mon then big boy. Show me how you handle it.”

#guys. i'm sorry for my absence #i had to get out of this man's chokehold i'm not kidding #and then you know what happened?#THIS came to me in a dream #A DREAM #CALLING SIMON “GHOST” BECAUSE HE'S FCKIN HAUNTING ME!!!!#hope you enjoyed kiss kiss love love #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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obsessedwithceleste · 2 months

Text

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

#slytherin boys #harry potter universe #slytherin #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #Theo Nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #Spotify

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ruggiezz · 7 months

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— EMBARASSING THINGS THEY DID IN THE PAST : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] embarassing things they did when they were younger that now haunt them whenever they are trying to sleep

[characters] deuce, cater, trey (+chenya), leona, ruggie, jack, malleus

[extra] my last 3 posts are literally so unserious, so here's another one, for the funsies (ily guys)

★﹕DEUCE SPADE

When he was in elementary school, he would chat with his friends while waiting for his mom to come pick him up and take him home. That particular day, his mom was late, and 6-year-old Deuce freaked out. He was convinced that his mom didn't love him anymore, and that's why he wouldn't pick him up—that he was going to be homeless and would have to live on the streets in a cardboard box. He even started crying, which made his friends cry. They started saying goodbye to Deuce because how were they going to see him again if his mom wouldn't bring him to school?

Anyways, his mom came to pick him up 10 minutes later.

★﹕CATER DIAMOND

Back then when he actually tried to make friends whenever he moved schools, he had a huge crush on one of his classmates. One day, he overheard his crush talking about how they "would love to be with someone who loves nature as much as them". Cater wanted to impress his crush so badly that he made a Magicam post with him posing next to random trees and captioned it with "I love nature so much omg😍".

The photo is still out there on the internet because he forgot the password for the account, and the idea of someone from NRC finding the account terrifies him.

★﹕TREY CLOVER (+CHENYA)

Another one that takes place in elementary school. Trey and Chenya were walking around the city after classes when they spotted an electricity pylon. They thought it was the Eiffel Tower (the equivalent of it in Twisted Wonderland), and they got all excited about it, so they came back with Trey's parents so they could take a picture of them next to it.

Their parents bring up the topic from time to time just to laugh at their innocence back then.

★﹕LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

When he was a little kid, he had a nightmare where he was being chased. He was tossing around the bed, mumbling while sleeping. Falena was walking around the halls when he heard noises from Leona's room, and when he saw him clearly having a nightmare, he tried to wake him up. Leona got so startled that he screamed and kicked his older brother in the face.

Sometimes he remembers when he's about to fall asleep, and suddenly his sleepiness is gone from how much he cringed.

★﹕RUGGIE BUCCHI

He needed money, so he decided to work as a party mascot. It went well the first couple of times; it paid well, until he had to work at this particular kids party. The parents told Ruggie to walk down the stairs, greet the kid, wish him a happy birthday, and then just stand there to greet the children whenever they talked to him. Keep in mind that he couldn't see well in the mascot suit. So when Ruggie tried to walk down the stairs, he tripped and fell. The suit's head fell off, and there was just silence for around ten seconds, then the kids started crying. They thought their favorite character had just died right in front of them.

The birthday boy was inconsolable. Needless to say, Ruggie didn't get paid, and his party mascot careed ended that day.

★﹕JACK HOWL

It happened when his parents weren't home. His younger siblings were playing around with paint, and they asked him if they could paint his face. Jack said yes because it was harmless and would wash off, right? Wrong, it was permanent paint.

He had an important exam the next day, so he just showed up to school with his face looking like a kid painting that parents would display on the fridge door. Jack had to go to school like that for three days.

★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA

Malleus has known Lilia for as long as he can remember; he basically raised him. One day, he had the genius idea to copy his hair. He waited for a moment when he was left unsupervised (in Lilia's defense, Malleus faked being asleep), grabbed some scissors, and cut his own bangs. It was awful; it looked like how you would think a little kid would cut their hair. He was so proud of himself until Lilia saw it. To little Malleus dismay, Lilia laughed his ass off, and whenever his laughter would stop, he would look at Malleus and start laughing again.

He got so upset he burned Lilia's bangs off.

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar x reader #malleus draconia x reader #deuce spade x reader #cater diamond x reader #trey clover x reader #jack howl x reader #artemiy artemiyevich pinker x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #deuce x reader #cater x reader #trey x reader #jack x reader #ruggie x reader #chenya x reader #malleus x reader #leona x reader

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myfictionaldreams · 7 months

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Day 9: Size Kink - Ari Levinson

Summary: Ari was your grumpy (handsome) boss, who never smiled at anyone. So why did he care so much if you smiled at someone else?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, grumpy vs sunshine, arguments, size difference, size kink (Ari is huge in every way), showing off strength, manhandling, spit as lube, fingering, possessive, rough sex

masterlist 📚

kinktober masterlist😈

AO3 Link

It had been a long day already; the sun was beaming down, which meant the bar was packed to capacity, with endless drinks and money being swapped. You thrived on days like this, enjoying the perks an extra broad smile could get you from willing customers who hadn’t appreciated service with a smile. Today, there was one specific customer, Matt, who was sitting on a stool in the middle of the bar and had been complimenting you for the entire afternoon.

He was harmless and continuously gave you tips with every drink, so you plastered a great, broad, fake smile that ached your cheeks every time you went near him. Ari watched from the end of the bar at how you smiled towards the stranger and how the man smiled back, and the second your back was turned, his eyes would be searching your body greedily.

Ari’s hand tightened around the beer bottle to the point that he was close to shattering it and had to take a long breath through his nose to calm himself down. Yet, he continued to watch. He always used the excuse that because he was the boss, he needed to keep a close eye on the goings on in his establishment and his employees, but deep down, he knew there was another reason he was always sitting at the bar rather than in his office.

The liquor you needed for your requested drink was empty as you lifted it to show the customer with a closed-lipped smile, “need a new one”, you quickly explained before leaving out the back of the bar.

All of the stock was kept in the cellar, so you descended the steps carefully, taking your time to have a quiet moment to yourself. Scanning the rows of liquid against the wall, you sighed, seeing that the one bottle you needed was on the highest shelf, which you would struggle to reach. Straining up on the tips of your toes, your arm stretched out as far as it could, reaching for the bottle, but a searing warmth burned through the clothes on your lower back as Ari pressed against it, using it as leverage to reach above you to grab the liquor easily.

You jumped at his sudden presence but were also not surprised, as he usually found an excuse to follow you throughout the bar. Peering up at him, you exclaimed, “God, Ari, you scared me. Wait, what’s that look for? What’s wrong?”.

He didn’t say a word, but you knew something wasn’t right by the angry scowl, which usually softened whenever you smiled up at him like you were attempting to do now. Unlike behind the bar, this smile was genuine, and the joy reached your eyes, making them appear as if they were twinkling. Ari would always do feats like this, showing off his staggering size and strength so that he could experience this smile to the point that he seemed to be always standing over you, with his towering height that made your neck ache, one of the few people to make you feel small in stature, dainty even, especially when he became all dominant and acting like the resident bodyguard for the bar. Everyone knew not to mess with the boss.

It was hard not to fall for him; sure that everyone who was attracted to a man fell in love with him as soon as they saw him sitting at the bar or over your shoulder. To be truthful, there were times when you faked not being able to lift a table or heavy pot of glasses just so that he could come and lift things whilst you oggled at his psychic, but he was happy to help, even though he always had that deep frown.

The frown that he was currently still looking at you with enough that it had you feeling slightly uneasy as you looked away to the alcohol in his hand, reaching for it. “Oh, thank you! Don’t think I would have been able to reach that anyway.” Your hand extended to grab the bottle, but he held it back and out of your reach.

Ari’s eyes darkened in colour as he stepped forward, and instinctively, you stepped back until you were pressed against the cool brick wall with his towering body hovering over yours, his arm resting above your head. Despite stepping away from him, the stance didn’t phase you. Once again, he was doing it to show off the size difference, and you made sure not to waver with your smile, still beaming up at him.

Ari’s shoulder-length hair fell to shadow his handsome face, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through the soft strands and brush them behind his ears. Even though he may appear threatening, you trusted Ari with your entire life, and the two of you always seemed to be teetering on the edge of being flirtatious. Still, you’d never have the courage to make a move, mainly because he was your boss.

The giant man studied you for a long moment, inspecting your face to the point you became self-conscious until they lingered on your smiling lips.

“You need to stop smiling at him”, Ari demanded with his voice low and gravely. Your smile finally dropped as you released a choked laugh, causing your shoulders to shake with the force.

“What? Smiling at who?” you asked, dumbfounded. He gestures with his head, nodding towards the stairs and to the bar when it finally dawned on you who he was referring to. Crossing your arms over your chest, you continued, “What? Matt, the guy at the bar? He’s harmless, and didn’t you always tell us that we need to serve our drinks with a smile?” As you teased Ari, you raised onto your tiptoes to lean closer and gloat the broad smile that was back on your face.

He didn’t break, continuing to frown, but now his shoulders were tense. “You need to stop”, he growled, stepping even closer until you could feel the warmth from his chest, “You don’t know what he wants, so stop smiling at him; he’ll get his hopes up”.

“Oh, and you know what he wants, do you? You can’t be upset with me because I’m being nice to a customer, and what makes this smile different to all the others that I’ve given to the others?”. You’d come to the realisation that Ari was most likely jealous, and even though it made your heart pound in your chest and excitement wanting to burst from your smile, you had tried to act like you usually did. Even though seeing him being somewhat possessive and obvious with his feelings made you want to shout it from the rooftop.

“Not. With. Him”, Ari grounds out each word with enough venom that you almost wanted to shrink away.

“Fine”, you say with confidence whilst shrugging your shoulders, “So who am I allowed to smile at then? I like happiness and want to smile at someone who returns it. Who else am I supposed to do it with because you sure as hell don’t smile at me”.

Ari doesn't say anything, so you lift a hand and rest it on his shoulders before tapping with your fingers and resisting the urge to give the muscles that you could feel a good squeeze. “You need to relax a little, Boss, it’s fine. I won’t smile at him, I promise. Now, can I go back to work, please?”

All he does is grunt in answer, giving him a Neanderthal appearance as he holds out the bottle of liquor and moves away from the wall to provide you with room to move past him. Accepting the bottle, you thanked him genuinely before walking back towards the stairs with him only an inch behind.

Returning to the bar, you’d expected him to return to his seat at the end, but he stood behind you, staring at Matt with his arms crossed. You wanted to sigh but thought it best not to poke the bear, as they say, especially when he was so riled up.

Pouring the guy's drink, you passed it to him and stated the price, all without a smile. The customer didn’t look in your direction as he eyed Ari, asking, “What’s his problem?” All you did was shrug in response whilst handing out your hand still for the money. Instead of reading the situation and knowing when to keep his mouth closed, Matt made the mistake of muttering under his breath, “I bet he’s an asshole to work for”.

The money for the drink fell into the centre of your palm just as Ari suddenly was at your back, but you tried to push him back, feeling the heat already burning your face with anger as you pointed towards the door. “Get out”, you demanded confidently.

“What?” Matt shouted, astonished that you’d even say such a thing.

“You heard me; get the fuck out” The adrenaline was deciding your actions as you became increasingly angry at what he’d said about Ari. Slamming the money onto the bar counter, you pointed at the door again for emphasis.

Matt finally snapped, kicking back his stool and slamming his drink on the counter, “Are you fucking joking? I’ve just paid for this drink; I’m not leaving!”

Once again, you weren’t sure logic was in control of your body anymore as you did something so out of character it shocked even Ari. Reaching over the bar, you grabbed the drink and poured it over the guy's head before pointing at the door once more, “You don’t have a drink anymore. I’m not asking again. Get the fuck out of his bar, NOW. You don’t talk about the boss like that”.

It was a rare day when you truly lost your temper, so the entire bar had quietened by this point and stared in anticipation. Thankfully, even though the guy looked ready to throw his chair at your head, he instead turned and stumbled out of the doors.

As the atmosphere began to return to normal, the realisation of what you’d just done came to you. Your fingers began to tremble as anxiety sat heavy in your stomach as you tried to take a deep, steadying breath.

That burning, warm palm returned to your lower back as Ari dipped his head to whisper into your ear, “My office, now.” Trying to ignore everyone else's stares, you moved past him as he nodded to the other bar staff to cover your area of the bar whilst he followed you out.

You walk, anger still prevalent even with the anxiety worsening as you realise that you’d technically assaulted one of the customers by throwing his drink at him. What if you get reported? What if Ari thinks you’ve gone too far?

You’re nervously chewing on your thumb when you reach his office at the back of the building. You looked around at the scarcely decorated room with a desk, two chairs and closed blinds so that it was only just illuminated by streaks of sunlight but nothing else, so it was dimly lit. Ari hardly ever used this room, which is why you knew you were in trouble, especially needing a private space to reprimand you so no one could hear if he wanted to shout.

Walking into the centre of the room, you jumped on the spot, turning towards the door that had just been slammed closed by your boss. He stalked towards you, head tilted low as he backed you into a wall like in the cellar.

“I’m so fucking done”, Ari seethed, a vein bulging in his temple and tense muscles lining his arms and shoulders.

You were initially unsure what to say, your lower lip trembling as the anger seeped away, and only the nerves remained. “I’m sorry, Ari, I shouldn’t have thrown the drink at him. I don’t know what I was thinking”.

You had lost confidence and lowered your face to look at the carpeted floor, but Ari was quick to grip your chin in his thumb and forefinger and tilt your face so you were looking back into his bearded face. His voice was low and steady as he spoke, “I am so fucking done with this bullshit cat-and-mouse game we have going on”.

This caught you off guard as you blinked away the anxiety, asking, “What?”

Ari dipped his face even lower, and you took a moment to appreciate how big he was and how much lower he had to make himself so that you were face to face. With him this close, you could smell the aftershave he’d sprayed onto his neck this morning, smelling spicy and had your mouth drooling.

“I’m your boss”, Ari interrupted your dirty thoughts, “It’s unprofessional the things that I dream about, but you make it so fucking difficult to remain your boss when you’re smiling all the time. I want to kiss that smile away so you can return to work and stop distracting me. But today, seeing you there shouting at that asshole for me. I can’t stay professional much longer, so here’s your chance. Leave and walk out that door right now, and we’ll never talk about this again, but if you stay”, his eyes lowered from your lips to assess your body in the darkness. “If you stay, I promise you there will be no other thoughts than my name coming out of your pretty little mouth”.

Ari gave you a moment to contemplate and decide. You, however, were not thinking at all, your mind was empty, and the only response was the warming of your cunt, clenching already around nothing as you knew there was no way you were leaving.

Your arms wrapped around his neck before any of your anxiety returned, pulling him down for a heated kiss. Mouths moving with need against the other, causing Ari to moan; actually, MOAN into your mouth as his lips instantly parted and warm tongue brushed against yours. His arms were around your waist, pulling you as close as possible until your breasts were squished against his firm chest.

It felt like your boss was completely surrounding you as his arms expanded over the area of your back, just as firm as his chest, and you could feel the muscles bulging beneath his plaid shirt. Your feet were suddenly off the floor as he lifted you into his arms, your legs securely wrapping around his waist as one of his arms rested beneath your arse as your back connected with the wall again.

He tasted so good, even though it mainly tasted of the beer he’d been drinking; you’ve fantasised about this moment for months. He was just as dominant as you’d predicted, his mouth forcing yours more open to caress his tongue further into your face, almost like he couldn’t reach far enough within and needed to feel every crevice. The hand that wasn’t supporting your weight then moved to your cheek, his long fingers stretching so far they wrapped around the back of your head as he tilted your head slightly to once again attempt to deepen the kiss.

Ari’s jean-covered hips then ground against yours, stoking the fire inside your cunt more. His actions were desperate, wanting to feel every single part of you. It was almost overstimulating to your senses because all you’d managed to do was keep up with the pace of his tongue and lips and stroke your fingers through his hair just as you wanted to do. But Ari, he was all over you, his mouth now exploring your throat, sucking and biting on the areas that made you moan more and send tingles between your thighs.

The sound of clothes ripping then echoed around the office as Ari had become frustrated with the amount of clothes you wore that was stopping his exploration. Your shirt disappeared with a single tear down the middle and then disintegrated onto the floor. Once again, he was showing off his strength, and you really didn’t care, completely and utterly, at this disposal, especially when his mouth was now sucking on your left nipple.

He lapped against the sensitive bud with his tongue flat, then sucked it into his mouth, a tight seal forming with his lips before gently biting with his sharp teeth, causing your back to arch and fingers to grip more firmly into his locks. Ari moved to the other breasts as his fingers then replaced his tongue with the wet breast, pinching and pulling until you were begging for him to touch you there.

Your mewls were not stifled at all, head tipped back and mouth wide open; nothing was filtering your volume, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you were thankful that the bar was so busy that the music and talking would hopefully cover your moans of joy.

“Ari! Please give me more!” Pulling on his slightly damp hair from the sweat, you forced his face away from your breasts so that you could devour his mouth. His hips thrust harder into yours, and even though you were both still clothed, you could feel the hardness waiting for you in his tented jeans.

Tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth, Ari groaned and asked, “Tell me you want this, one last chance to change your mind”.

“I need this, Ari, don’t stop”.

Your back left the comfort of the wall as he began to carry you over to his desk, holding you up with one arm. The other wiped any objects onto the floor, giving him the area to lie across.

The wooden surface was cool and welcoming as he again started kissing you, both hands cupping your jaw, holding you firmly in place. Lower he moved, down your throat, collar bones and breasts. As he licked over your stomach, he finally reached to undo your jean button. As he kissed lower, he pulled the material down with him, and only when you felt startling bare did you realise that your underwear had been removed as well.

Sitting up onto your elbows, you silky commented, “You’re wearing too many clothes”. You’d wanted to explore his body with your mouth, but he was just so tall and muscular that you weren’t able to reach him even if you sat up entirely on the desk, so with a rush, you pulled on his shirt, attempting to help remove it from his body and then the same with his jeans. You noticed how his muscles were defined as they became revealed; his abs, covered in a sprinkling of hair, had your mouth watering to touch and lick, but you became distracted by what was between his legs.

Ari Levinson was fucking huge. It was definitely the most enormous cock you’d ever been with, and it shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. His shaft was thick, and a few veins bulged like he had in his temple when mad. The tip was bulbous, glistening in precum and a deeper shade of red than the rest of his cock. Even his balls that rested beneath his length seemed more prominent than usual, and for a fleeting moment, you contemplated if it was even going to fit.

Seemingly reading your mind, Ari grasped the base of his cock that seemed to throb as your eyes moved up and down it, “Don’t worry, Princess, it’ll fit”.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you wanted to tease him a little, so you leaned forward to kiss the tip, your lips becoming salty from his juices. As you licked up the taste, Ari hissed in a breath and pushed against your chest until you were lying lengthways against the desk once more.

As he had been before, Ari manhandled you with ease, lifting one of your legs until it rested on your shoulder. You thought he was going to start fucking you straight away; however, he was just giving his hand a better position. Whilst keeping his eyes on yours, Ari spits a glob directly onto your already-soaked pussy, collecting it with his index finger before pushing it into your cunt. Your back arched into the touch; even his fingers felt thick and made you feel full. He twirled his digit, doing this mostly to stretch and pleasure you. That could be for another time, but right now, he needed to fuck you but respectfully not hurt you either.

One finger turned into two as he added his middle digit, scissoring them both, which made your hole squelch from all of the liquids. One more finger was added, and you felt fuller than ever before. The entrance to your pussy burned slightly from having three of his fingers coaxing you wider, in and out slowly, whilst turning and opening your hole. Your thighs were trembling from the stimulation already, breaths hot and heavy as you gripped the edge of the desk above your head.

How did you even end up in this situation with your boss in his office, customers and staff just outside the door as his fingers pumped into you with expert ease to attempt to fit his cock.

Your leg dropped from his shoulder, but only so he could wrap them both around his waist as he moved closer, a hand next to your head whilst the other gripped the base of his cock as you realised he was finally, at long last, lining up with your throbbing cunt. Reaching you, your fingers dig into his shoulders, gripping him like you’d always dreamed of as his tip slotted to your entrance.

Slowly, he began to push in, and your cries turned desperate. It burned more than the three fingers; his cock was so girthy and thick that you had to concentrate on taking deep breaths to remain relaxed. Inch after inch, he pushed in, and even though the burn didn’t fade immediately, you already loved the sensation of it. It was intense but something only he could provide for you, and with time, your body adjusted, and soon you were trying to rock your hips. Even though he wasn’t even fully penetrated, his tip was pushing into your cervix.

“Ari, you’re so fucking big, Jesus Christ!” your mouth dropped open as high-pitched cries filled the thick, pleasured air.

For one beautiful second, Ari actually chuckled at your desperate reactions, wanting to stay in that moment forever, seeing you laid out beneath him like his own personal platter.

As your warm, gummy walls clenched around his cock did he snap out of his admiration. Still being careful, he moved in and out slowly and held onto your waist tightly to keep you from sliding down the desk with how tightly your cunt was hugging his cock.

Eventually, you became used to it a bit more, which meant that you began to beg for it harder, needing to feel him closer, so he dropped himself down until his lips were next to your ear and his hand around your throat to hold you still.

“You’re mine, do you understand that?” he growled with a promise never to let you go.

That beautiful grin he loved so much was suddenly beaming up at him, your fingers moving to grip the wrist that was golding your throat as you declared, “I’m all yours, Ari Levinson”.

“Fuck, I love that smile”, he admits between thrusts, his eyes unblinking so that he didn’t miss a single twitch of your face as it flooded with pleasure. However, his need to taste you took over once more as he kissed you deeply, groaning and squeezing your throat a little harder but not enough to cut off your air.

The wetness of your pussy leaked over your thighs as his desk wobbled with each thrust. Your entire body felt like it was on fire which all resonated down to your core, feeling it tighten to match the hardening in your gummy walls, suffocating his cock further in its harsh grip.

“So big, you’re so damn big, Ari, fuck I’m going to cum”, you shouted, pulling on his hair to snap his head back so that you could breathe and shout out between thrusts. He leaned up on his arm to watch your reactions again, from the furrowed eyebrows, eyes wide and pupils blown, the swollen lips that were forming the perfect O shape as you finally came.

Your cunt had been stretched so wide that when you came, you could feel it more in your abdomen than the contractions that usually fluttered through your walls. The orgasm, therefore, lasted longer because you were overstimulated and confused with the sensation. Still, even though you couldn’t necessarily feel how your pussy squeezed, Ari sure could as he cursed loudly, releasing your neck to slam his hand on the desk as he unexpectedly pulled out just as he began to cum.

Looking between your bodies, you watched in amazement as thick spurts of his seed shot out the end of his cock and coated your stomach. With his cock now resting over your body as he shouted through his orgasm, you could see that if he had been able to fit his entire cock inside of you, it would have reached your navel. It was that big.

As both of your moans quiet to just heavy breathing, your head dropped back onto the desk, arms and legs having no more energy, also collapsed to your side. Thankfully, Ari could see the exhaustion you were experiencing, and once he’d calmed down enough, he found a box of tissues on the floor and gently wiped away the mess he’d created on your stomach.

Peaking open an eye, you looked down your body towards where your boss knelt, “I hope you aren’t expecting me to go back to work.” your voice was thick and croaky as you smiled down at him. His blue eyes flicked up to your tired face as he raised a single eyebrow, midwipe, so you continued, “I don’t think I can walk, and you’ve ripped my shirt”.

Ari smirked, standing up again to throw the tissue into the bin. He looked your body up and down, “You know, you could just wear my shirt”.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down well with everyone like it wasn’t already obvious that we’ve come in here for a quick fuck”.

His body leans forward, hovering over yours, all bulging muscles and hulking size making you feel small again as he confidently states, “Well, they better get used to it. You’re mine, remember?”.

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson one shot #red sea diving resort #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

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