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svuguru · 3 days

Note

by any chance do you write for naoya 👉👈 ,,,big brother naoya and him with his sweet little obedient sister 👉👈 he makes her sit on his lap during a clan meeting or something public where he touches her secretly ahsgdjsgd;;;;;

Tags: incest!! Antis and minors DNI pleaseeee I’m not responsible for the content you do or do not consume!!! I know the meeting part isn’t like accurate and not how meetings go traditionally in the Zenin clan but whatever :3

Ee this is so cute 😭 okayyy but sitting on big bro Naoya’s lap maybe while at a meeting that’s supposed to be formal but he insists on letting his little sister sit on his lap… :< and of course they don’t say anything about it because he’s just so intimidating!??

But while they think you just share a very close, and innocently enough, relationship with each other, he has his big hand tucked underneath your skirt, two of his fingers slowly sliding in and out of your poor cunt, all while you’re trying to keep quiet so you don’t ruin this big opportunity for big bro Naoya.

Your juices paint his digits, clenching around them tightly while also trying to keep your breathing even and steady. Your hand clings onto his leg, occasional gasps falling from your lips that you pray no one notices.

“Can’t—“ you whisper in his ear after tilting your head back just a bit, a pout gracing your lips when Naoya laughs it off.

“Shh,” Naoya raises his other hand and presses his index finger to his lips, slowly shaking his head which makes you whine. In response, a cheeky grin tugs at his lips before he pays your cheek, turning his attention back to the meeting, keeping his digits slow and steady not only to keep the noises down, but also to fuck with you.

Naoya’s long fingers carefully sliding in and out of your wet pussy so casually as if this was just another Tuesday, your walls warm and tight around him. Your squirming doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone else in the room, but when someone brings it up, Naoya is quick to dismiss it, saying, “oh, sweet girl’s just a bit tired.” Yes, the way he addresses you is a bit… odd, but they don’t mention it.

“Too much…” you mumble as quietly as you can, attempting to subtly grind against your big brother’s wrist.

“Uh-uh, behave,” so you do, putting a halt to your hips but you do look down at his hand with a pout. “I know you can take it, be quiet, okay?”

“Mkay,” you huff and raise your wrists to your eyes to rub them. It’s too much, Naoya’s so mean for making his own sister keep quiet, right? Knowing what he’s doing, too!

“Tell you what,” he begins, “after this meeting, when we get home, I’ll give you eve you want, yeah? Only if you behave though.” In response to that, you eagerly nod your head, a wide smile falling upon your glossy lips. “Aw, that’s a good girl…”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #Naoya Zenin smut #Naoya Zenin x reader #Naoya smut #Naoya x reader #Naoya Zenin x reader smut #Naoya x reader smut

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20doozers · 2 days

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★Secret★

TW: jerking off/masturbation, pervy thoughts (kinda), use of y/n, third person, gn!reader, making bets, oblivious reader, wet dreams, palming, smut,

“Fuck-“ Georg groaned, his head tilting back as his hands gripped at your hair, pushing your head down on his cock as you deepthroated him. The room was filled with lewd groans and slurping noises, along with some soft gagging on your part. Fuck, you were good.. really good.

Georg was jolted awake from his dream by footsteps in the hallway, the noise of some giggling teens coming from outside as they passed his hotel room door. He groaned as he sat up in bed, glancing over at the alarm clock on the hotel bedside table, 5:00am. He let out a tired sounding grunt, hesitating before lifting up the covers to peek beneath his blankets. Lo and behold he was hard, so hard in fact that there was a small wet spot of pre, assumingly from his wet dream about y/n.

Be was a bit unsure, jerking off to y/n? What was he? A crazy fan boy? Yet he pushed those thoughts aside as he pulled down his pajama pants, just enough to free his aching erection. He took his cock in his hand, starting to slowly pump his hand up and down his shaft. His hand moved at a slow pace, and speeding up slightly as his mind flashed with explicit images of you, his imagination running wild.

He moaned quietly, biting down on his lip to keep his noise down as he slowly stroked himself, speeding up his pace quite a bit. His hand still stroked at his shaft as the other hand came up to palm the head of his cock. The pleasure was almost too intense, rows of goosebumps prickling at his skin as pleasure coursed through his veins.

“Fuck- fuck- fuck-“ Georg whined, he was so close to cumming, he couldn’t stop now, no way. He continued to palm the head of his cock, his whines and cries too hard to hold back in such a state. And with a few last rubs he came, his head falling back as strangled cries of your name fell from his lips as his climax spilled over him. His cock was still throbbing from the intensity, his now soft cock still grasped in his hand as he tried to catch his breath. His chest was heaving and his body was sticky with sweat, spurts of cum coating the palm of his hand as he bonelessly melted into the pillows.

“You okay georg? You sounded like you were upset this morning..” You asked, clearly oblivious that he had been jerking off to the thought of you on the other side of the wall.

“Yeah, just had a nightmare.” Georg brushed it off, taking a bite of his waffles as the two of you sat at the table having been forced to have breakfast with the rest of the band.

“Oh, okay.. well if you need help call me next time.” You hummed, thinking you were just making a kind offer. Georg nodded and went back to eating, a small flush forming on his cheeks from the offer. You heard a quiet snicker from Tom as he leaned over and whispered to bill, shrugging it off since you couldn’t hear him.

“20€, pay up.” Tom said smugly to bill, watching as the ravenette rolled his eyes and handed Tom the money, watching him greedily shove it in his pocket. Nobody knows what the two had made a bet on, but most likely it was Georg’s little secret.

YAYY FINALLY A FIC IS OUT!! It’s a bit of a short one but I wrote it at like 2am while delirious so don’t judge me and excuse any mistakes. I’m working on a longer fic I just wanted to post something to keep you little goblins (hopefully) satisfied while I work on it. Love you guys💕

Tags: @itsmealaiah @cherry-rawr @charliesgoodboy @estxkios @billskeis @goreishgorinthgoreofshits @madzandmore @tomssexdoll

Let me know if you wanna be on the taglist!

#tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x male reader #tom kaulitz #m!reader #mlm #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #georg listing fluff #georg listing x reader #georg listing smut #kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel fluff #tokiohotel #tokio hotel #gn!reader #gn reader

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bellysoupset · 2 days

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I would love to see Leo and Jonah sick at the same time ^^

maybe one of them has food posioning and the other has been hiding some sort of stomach bug for a while that happens to show it’s face then?

if not that’s fine but would really like to see this!

-🪼

(First time submitting an ask :D)

This was sent before you switched to the 🧋anon tag.

Also requested by @vdoggg!

Food Poisoning - Part 3.

A continuation of Leo's birthday fic. Read part 1 here. Part 2 here.

--------------------

Leo was lying on the bed, curled up and trying to make sense if he was about to puke again, when he heard the front door opening. JD lifted up her head from where she had been happily kneading his thigh and he breathed out.

“It’s just Jon,” Leo grumbled, not moving a muscle. Jonah hadn’t texted him, but Leo had enough sense to figure out who had eaten the missing cupcakes and why he was back earlier than usual.

As if to confirm his point, he heard hurried steps and then the noise of liquid hitting liquid and Jonah’s signature loud burp down the hall, as he probably burst into the guest bathroom. Leo sighed, forcing himself to sit up and waiting a second as the room spun around him.

He had originally thought it was a simple overeating bellyache, even when he puked again as they arrived home, chalking that up to the vestiges of nausea and carsickness. Halfway through the night though, while Jonah was peacefully asleep, Leo was wrecked by the cramps in his lower belly and had given up on that notion as the runs hit him.

Leo felt mildly guilty he hadn’t been awake enough that morning to warn Jonah this was definitely food poisoning, then maybe his fiancee wouldn’t have eaten the cupcakes.

Grabbing on the walls to keep himself upright, Leo made his slow track down the hall and sighed as he found exactly what he had predicted. Jonah curled up in front of the toilet, hugging the bowl with arms, his shoulders hitching with a retch.

“Shit,” Leo sighed, slumping against the door and taking a deep breath to steady himself, “I’m sorry, Jon.”

A burp answered him, followed by more liquid splashing and then a pitiful whimper. Leo slowly entered the bathroom, which was much too small for the two men, and sat down on the cold ground, planting a hand on his fiance’s back.

He didn’t have the energy to rub, but Jonah didn’t seem to mind. After a couple minutes the other man finished coughing and raised a shaky hand to flush the toilet, so Leo grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and passed it to him. He heard Jon blow his nose, then flush again and finally he turned to look at Leo.

Leo cringed, his boyfriend looked damn near gray and his lips were a terrible pale shade. He had sweat beading all over his face, gluing his curls down to his temples, “Jon, are you-”

“Threw up- threw up in front of a patient,” Jonah informed him, in a little strangled voice. He closed his eyes, as if wincing at the memory, “I really don’t feel good.”

“I know,” Leo said truthfully, scooting closer. He couldn’t emphasize enough how much he understood Jon’s plight, given that just walking the short distance between their bedroom and the guest bathroom had caused his nausea to increase all over again, “I’m really sorry, Jon.”

“Not your fault,” Jonah groaned, turning to the toilet once more and spitting in it, planting a hand on his chest and massaging a burp up, “fuck…”

Leo tipped his head back against the cold tiles of the bathroom, trying to ignore the angry gurgling of his belly and how he felt like acid was crawling up his throat. He took a measured breath, gulping down, then startled as he felt a hand touching him.

Jonah let out a small snort at his jerkiness and Leo frowned, taking a second to realize Jonah was checking his vitals. He was being gentle, but the slight pressure on his Adam's apple was not helping Leo gulp down the nausea, so he pulled back.

“What are you doing…?”

“You’re really, really pale,” Jon frowned at him, “when did you last drink water?”

“You’re the one throwing up,” Leo pointed out with a pout, bringing his knees up to his chest, “are you done?”

Jonah shrugged, not reassuring him in the least, “I’m fine,” he said, using the toilet to pull himself up and then promptly leaning over the sink with a deafening retch. Leo scoffed, dizzily rubbing Jon’s thigh since he didn’t feel like he could get up now that he had sat down.

‘You’re fine, uh?”

A wet burp, followed by Jonah letting out a groan and wrapping an arm around his stomach… Then whimpering, “oh no,” and bent on the middle, clutching his belly. Leo raised his eyebrows.

“Jon…?”

“You need- I need you to get out,” Jonah groaned through clenched teeth, “now.”

“What… Why?” Leo tried to pull himself up, only to find that he really couldn’t and Jonah whimpered again.

“Fuck, Leo, I’m gonna shit my pants, get out-”

“I’m trying!” The blonde exclaimed, darting out a hand and grabbing the bathroom sink, in order to pull himself up, since his fiancee was of no help at all. On the contrary, Jonah seemed to have tuned him out, too preoccupied with the sour state of his intestines.

“Leo…”

“I’m-I’m go-” Leo didn’t finish his sentence, because being upright so quickly caused his head to swim, so instead of leaving the bathroom, he clutched the granite of the sink for dear life, breathing through his mouth, ears ringing and black spots dancing in front of his eyes. The queasiness that had been on the back burner until then, jumped up tenfold and Leo couldn’t do anything as he leaned forward and brought up a gush of pale yellow vomit in the basin.

Vaguely he heard Jonah groan and then the noise of his boyfriend falling sit on the toilet, sickness overriding any modesty.

Leo coughed, gasping for air and still white knuckling the sink. It felt like his head was floating. He gagged once more as he heard the noise of Jonah’s intestines emptying out and his fiancee let out a humiliated whine.

“I’m sorry, this is so gross, I-” Jonah all but whimpered, a sound so alien in his voice that it made Leo snap slightly back in reality.

He shook his head, opening the tap and washing away the vomit, before washing his mouth and forcing up a small burp. Leo hung over the sink, unsure if his belly was done with him.

“Jon?” he called after a minute, splashing some water on his face to try to get rid of the woozy sensation that he was about to pass out.

A cough answered him and Leo turned to look at his boyfriend, then groaned in sympathy. Jonah had grabbed the bin and planted it on his lap, as his own stomach joined his body’s attempt at purging.

“Aww angel,” Leo stumbled slightly forward, planting a hand on Jonah’s shoulder and squeezing his nape, “get it up, worst is almost over…”

Jonah’s whole body lurched with a big belch, that brought up another large wave of vomit inside their bathroom bin. Leo brought up a fist to his mouth and muffled a gag, turning his face away. He wasn’t one to get sympathy sick, but this was a gruesome sight when his stomach was already so upset.

He looked up at the ceiling, waiting until Jonah stopped heaving, then dared to glance down as the other man rasped out, “I’m done… I think I’m done…”

“Let me take this,” Leo took a forceful breath and retrieved the bin from Jonah’s hand, planting it on top of the sink and tying the trashbag, “do you need help…?”

“I’d rather die,” Jonah scoffed, wrapping both arms around his stomach and rocking softly, “bloody hell, Leo, it was just… Just two cupcakes, how the hell-”

“I don’t know,” Leo rubbed his face, frustrated, then grabbed the trashbag and fortified himself for the journey of getting out of the bathroom so Jon could get up and shower, “I’m going… I’m gonna give you some privacy. But I’m gonna leave the door open, okay?”

Not that he really could do anything in case Jonah slipped and fell in the shower, considering Leo was barely holding his own weight up. Jon was graceful enough not to mention it, though Leo wasn’t sure his boyfriend was even listening. Instead he was taking little rapid breaths, a sickly little burp sneaking up on him.

“Babe?”

“Bin-” Jonah’s voice was thick with nausea, “Leo- Gimme-”

Leo quickly pulled the tied trashbag out of the bin and passed the empty bucket back to Jonah, thankful that it wasn’t a hollowed out metal bucket like others they had in the house. Jon leaned over it immediately, barely retching before liquid sprayed from his mouth, then his back arched with a more violent heave.

“Jesus,” Leo whispered, starting to panic. This was quite violent and he hated that he couldn’t help as much as he wanted to. His legs were shaking and his own tummy was squeezing and cramping, intestines building a riot inside of him. Leo ignored the horrible sensation of his body revolting against him, in order to plant a shaky hand on Jonah’s shoulder and keep him from falling off the toilet.

After what felt like an eternity, Jonah planted the bin on the ground and his elbows on his knees, groaning, “fuck…”

Leo squeezed his shoulder, “I’m- Uhm- Are you-you done…?”

Jon’s head snapped up and he frowned at Leo’s sluggish sentences. Even exhausted and wrung dry, he hadn’t been losing liquids for as long as the other man had and was more alert.

“Leo, sit down,” he bossed and Leo shook his head, sweat breaking on his forehead and gluing his shirt down.

“Can’t- Don’t feel well…” He forced the words out, “are you okay…?”

“I’m fine,” Jonah stressed, “please, can you just sit down for a minute? I just need to shower-”

Leo nodded, then stumbled back and sat on the threshold between the bathroom and the hallway, whole body going down as if he was a broken doll. Jonah felt the start of panic prickling him, running his options through his mind.

Despite wanting to stay under the hot water for the rest of the day, Jon forced himself to keep the shower to only a minute, wrapping a towel around his hip and ignoring the way his belly was grumbling and whining all over again. He couldn’t even understand how he wasn’t empty yet.

Leo was in the exact same spot, he hadn't moved a muscle. Jonah crouched down, touching his fiance’s pale, slack face and hating the way he could feel Leo’s rapid heart beat.

“You’ve been puking since yesterday, this isn’t good,” Jon sighed, patting Leo’s cheeks, “baby, open your eyes.”

“Gon’besick,” Leo groaned, instead of obeying and Jonah jerked back just in time to avoid getting his arm coated in vomit, as Leo’s head hung and bright yellow bile splashed on his shirt.

Jonah groaned, sympathy sickness making his stomach squeeze and he didn’t have it in him to fight it, he turned his head and gagged. It took forever for his stomach to settle and he could feel Leo was still dry heaving, even without looking.

“We need help,” Jonah said, forcing himself to look at the mess and deciding there was no way he could handle this alone, when his body was hellbent on getting ready of any fluid he had ever consumed.

Leo let out a little whimper as an answer and Jonah made up his mind.

—------------

“Christ,” Luke’s voice was much too loud in their quiet apartment and Jon jerked from the small nap he was taking in the middle of the hallway. He had managed to strip Leo out of his ruined shirt and changed into boxers himself instead of only a towel, but that was it. Moving Leo had been out of the question.

“Leo first,” Jonah opened his eyes, his head was pounding from all the heaving and coughing, “I think he needs a hospital…”

Lucas didn’t argue, crouching down in front of them and touching Leo’s cheeks, patting them softly, “Leo. Leo, hey-” he shook him a little harder, until the blonde let out a groan and opened his eyes. His face immediately twisted into a frown, the cramps hitting him now that he was awake.

“Luke…?” Leo groaned, curling up as much as he could, but Lucas was having none of it. He forced the other man to open up and threw an arm around his neck.

“C’mon,” Luke’s voice came out strained as he managed to pull Leo up on his feet, “couch with you. You need to drink something.”

“Gonna… Gonna go right through-” Leo groaned, his head lolling and he pressed his nose to Luke’s neck, “won’tssstay down- Where’s Jon?”

“He’s fine,” Lucas managed to plant Leo on the couch, then grabbed some cushions and planted them under Leo’s legs, “I brought stuff.”

“What did you bring…?” Jonah tried to get up from the hallway, only to find that he was much weaker than he thought. His face burned with embarrassment as he too had to be hugged by Luke and pulled up.

“Everything the drugstore would sell me without a prescription,” Luke huffed, planting Jonah in the opposite couch to Leo’s and then heading to the door in order to retrieve his grocery bag. He put it down on the coffee table, then removed a gatorade bottle, and five different medicine bottles.

“Here,” Luke handed Jonah two different pills and a bottle of gatorade, “try holding these down.”

“Where’s JD?” Leo whispered from the other couch. He had curled up as much as he could and Jonah winced at the sight of him, throwing Lucas a panicked glance. He didn’t like at all the shade of white Leo had reached.

“What?” Luke asked, walking closer. For Leo he opened the gatorade bottle and stuck a straw inside of it.

The blonde made a face as the straw was pressed to his lips, trying to move away, “she must be starving…”

“I’ll look for JD in a minute,” Lucas ushered him closer, “just one sip, Leo. If you can’t then we’re gonna go to the hospital.”

The vague threat worked, because Leo finally took a gulp. Jonah watched him anxiously, already so familiar with the way his boyfriend worked that he fully expected to see the drink come up within seconds. When that didn’t happen, he allowed himself to fully collapse against the couch’s cushions.

“How long has this been going on?” Lucas’ voice was distant, followed by a meow and then his footsteps. JD meowing louder. Jonah turned his head, fighting valiantly the urge to go to sleep and scoffed as he saw Luke clutching JD in his hands.

“Don’t squeeze her like that,” he glared at the other man, while from the opposite couch Leo let out a pained groan.

“Luke-” It was a whimper, and then Lucas dropped JD and lurched just in time to catch the mouthful of gatorade in the crumpled groceries paperbag. Jonah squeezed his eyes to avoid looking at the mess, feeling even worse that he was so useless.

His own stomach churned uneasily and Jonah rolled on his side, focusing on breathing in and out and not on how awful he felt that he couldn’t be of any comfort or help as Leo continued to dry heave.

“Fuck,” Lucas said and Jonah dared to open his eyes. Leo had fallen against their friend, white as a corpse, and not even fighting it as Luke wiped his lips with his thumb, puke be damned.

“Hospital,” Jonah bossed, even dizzy as he was, “take him.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, carefully pushing Leo against the couch’s back, “Bella is coming over, she just stopped to buy us food. We’ll wait for her.”

“Nooo-” Jonah shook his head, then his stomach clenched violently and he gagged, but all that fell on the floor was a clear line of spit, “don’t-”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Lucas said harshly, crossing the room and forcing Jonah to sit up correctly, then grabbing a bucket and pushing it on his lap, “and Leo’s not gonna die in the fifteen minutes it’ll take her to get here. Chill.”

“Can’t…” Jonah mumbled miserably, too tired to hide how raw he felt, when Leo was this sick. He felt like crying and probably would have, if he wasn’t so dehydrated, “can’t chill.”

Luke’s frown softened up, replaced by all concern and sympathy and he crouched down in front of Jonah, grabbing the gatorade bottle once more, ‘yeah, I know, man. But I’m looking out for both of you. You trust me?”

Jon hesitated, then nodded, refusing to meet Luke’s eyes and the other man pushed the cold bottle in his hand, “take another sip. Bell is nearly here, I’m going to pack Leo a bag.”

True to what Luke had said, not more than ten minutes later, Bella entered the apartment. She was carrying another set of groceries and in true pragmatic fashion didn’t spare them even a look, heading straight to the kitchen to empty their fridge of the possibly tainted food and repack it.

“Okay,” Luke walked back to Leo, with a backpack around his shoulder, “let’s go, Leo.”

“Jonah…” Leo mumbled dizzily, burying his face in Luke’s chest, “Jon’s sick too-”

“I know, but he’s in better shape than you,” Luke grunted, pulling Leo up and stumbling a little, “Bell will stay here to keep him company.”

“JD-”

“She’s fine,” Bella said softly, rushing ahead to open the door for them and picking up the cat when she tried to sneak past her legs. The woman held up the kitten so Leo could see it and he blinked blearily, clearly feeling too awful to string things together.

“She’s hungry…”

“I’ll feed her,” Bella vowed and Luke huffed, tightening up his hold on Leo as the blonde started to slip down.

“Everything is fine here, we’re gonna be back in no time,” Luke promised, dragging him away. Finally they were alone, Jonah and Bella, and Jon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He curled up even more on the couch and almost smiled when JD jumped from Bell’s arms to come pester him.

“That’s some food poisoning,” Bell wrinkled her nose, walking closer, “how you holding up, Jon?”

“Not well,” Jonah leaned his head against the couch’s arm. He didn’t say it out loud, but he felt an immense relief at knowing Leo was on his way to getting fluids. He didn’t think he needed to say anything to Bell, she always seemed to just know.

“Did you throw up the meds?”

“Nope,” he planted a hand on his unsettled, bloated stomach, “but I might.”

“Well, try not to,” Bella rolled her eyes, then dangled her fingers for JD, “pspspsps, let’s have dinner, poor thing. You must be starving.”

Jonah stayed quiet as he heard Bella move around in the kitchen, serving JD her food and sorting through the mess. He continued to sip on his gatorade, only to find that had been a mistake when a sharp burp brought up a splash of acidic liquid to his throat.

“Fuck me,” Jon groaned, curling up and trying to massage the burps out of his belly before he ended up wasting all the hard work to keep down his meds.

“Don’t do that,” Bella circled the coffee table, holding a tall mug filled with coffee for herself. She unceremoniously pushed his leg to the side so they could share the couch and leaned in, slapping Jonah’s hand away from his belly, “let me.”

“Bella…” Jonah’s face burned with embarrassment, which got even worse when she pressed her fingers against his sloshy, bloated belly and it immediately caused a sick burp to erupt.

Bell rolled her eyes, smirking at him, “relax, I promise I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Jon scoffed, cupping his mouth and belching again, his throat aching with the force behind it, “please.”

“Maybe just Leo,” Bella grinned, sliding her hand over the curve of his sick belly and chuckling when Jonah let out a groan at her threat.

#mywriting #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto #leo wagner #jonah banks #food poisoning #tummy ache #bellyache #belly rubs #🧋anon

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oxymorayuri · 2 days

Text

❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part six

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here or the overview. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: language, !S.A.! Mainly noises, no exact description of the process, mature content ✦ Spoiler: none

wordcount: 5678

tagging: @lazyninjatheorist - @sassyyassi - @cottoncandyloverrrr - @littleleelee

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: yanfenguo_gao

"Travelling around like ordinary people is a really good thing…" You look over to Ace as he licks his ice cream happily.

Together you walk around the passenger ship. You were lucky to get the last two tickets and now it will be a whole day before you arrive at your destination… Dressrosa.

Even though you are happily licking your ice cream, your eyes are looking around attentively. You may not be on Dressrosa yet, but you're already at work.

"It definitely has its benefits, but I suggest you keep your eyes open Ace…" You stop at the railing and look down from the second floor to the lower deck and watch the people.

You count them and try to separate who you've already seen. Fortunately, with so few people, it's quite clear and in the back of your mind you try to spot any suspicious people.

So far, you've only been able to count 16 people who look like typical travelers. Families gathered on the lower level to watch the fish in the sea or couples strolling across the deck, gazing at the open sea. At the thought, your gaze wanders to the side, to Ace, who is still busy with his ice cream. A reluctant grin forms on your lips as you watch him.

With the ice cream in your hands, you really do look like a normal couple. You don't really know why that makes you smile, after all, that's the plan…

"Hey Ace, let me see the tickets. I'd like to see where our cabin is." He looks at you, a little dumbfounded.

"Cabin?" He reaches into his trouser pocket with one free hand and hands you the tickets.

"Yes, the trip to Dressrosa takes about a day, what did you think?" - "I don't know, I didn't think it would take that long. With the Moby Dick we'd easily be there in five hours…" he remarks while he's busy with his ice cream.

You can't help giggling and shake your head.

"The Moby Dick is a completely different story compared to a ferry." You lean back against the railing and look up at Ace.

"This is a ship for travelers." You watch him stuff the last bit of his waffle into his mouth, while you still have some of your last scoop left and he looks down at you confused.

"We're travelers on the Moby Dick too. I don't see the difference." You look dreamily at the people below you. It's true that you pirates are just travelers too. Travelers in a different way… But on your downward missions you also enjoyed the simple life. Between all the spying, you still had time to enjoy the area, after all, that's part of your facade… And who knows what you'll hear and see around the next corner…

You once sat down in the casino for fun, to strip the spoiled rich. The evening was promising. Gosh, some men are so easy to influence. First you got them to bet more with your seductive manner. Then you challenged them, questioned their wealth and flirted with them. These men have nothing more to do than brag about their money and show off.

How boring... but good for you, because you always win. Not in an honest way, of course, but you sit down at the table with the intention of cheating, so at least you're being honest with yourself. But that evening there was someone at the table who, although he had lost some money, had won something new.

Interest.

He invited you into the private area of the casino, without knowing that you were actually his employee. Crocodile had his eye on you and your cunning manner and wanted to show you that it didn't hurt him one bit, that you had won a handsome amount of money from him.

What he didn't know was that you were already working for him but in a wig, of course.

When you steal from people, you rarely do it as the person you're 'pretending' to be, so you went into your boss's casino with your natural hair. Starting as a guest and ended up in the VIP area by Crocodile's side; It can be that easy...

Crocodile has been a very generous man and even if you hardly want to admit it, you kind of enjoyed it.

He has a very charismatic demeanor and is a sharp businessman. You had a few things in common and the atmosphere was quite pleasant. Being with him made you feel different but in the back of your mind you always remembered that he was your enemy. But the feeling of leading this double life was thrilling.

Of course, as the owner of the casino, lots of interesting people wanted to talk to him. How foolish. Things are discussed in front of you, that a stranger shouldn't hear, but Crocodile was too busy having you by his side as a fancy accessory.

"Hey y/n take a look at these guys."

Ace voice pulls you out of your memory... you don't even know how you got there but it doesn't matter anymore. Your eyes wander to the men Ace is pointing at. Rolling your eyes, you take Ace's arm down.

"Don't point at them like that. If they look up, they'll notice us." You say calmly to him. You look after the men as they disappear from your field of vision and even when you lean over the railing you can no longer see them. You curse slightly to yourself.

"They're gone." Ace mumbles as he does the same and leans over the railing. At the same time, you look each other in the eye and nod.

Without another word, you both head down to the lower floor and try to track down the suspicious figures. Compared to a map of the ship and which way they were going, they must have walked to the private cabins.

The chances are slim, but you won't let any opportunity pass by. You walk along the corridor with quick but silent steps until you reach the end and find yourself in a circular lobby with several rooms. But no sign of the men.

"Hm, we seem to have lost them…" Ace put his hands on his hips and looked at one door after the other. Just before you were about to turn around, one of the doors opened and the shady gentlemen stepped out of the door with two women.

You quickly throw yourself at Ace and lead him to a door nearby so that you don't look suspicious.

You giggle at Ace in a somewhat drunken voice.

"Darliiiiiiing.. don't tell me you left the key at the bar again…" a little surprised, he caught you and looked at the men and immediately understood what was going on. He pulled you closer to him with one arm and searched for the imaginary keys in his pockets as the men walked past you.

"Sorry my love, I was just so lost in your eyes that I forgot them there…" You chuckle lovingly as you wrap your arms around his neck to give him a kiss. You had only meant to make it look like a kiss on the lips, but Ace pulled you towards him so that your kiss landed directly on his mouth.

A little startled, you wanted to push away from him but Ace stopped you by holding your face and whispering a grinning 'play along' on your lips. You realize that it would be conspicuous if you ended your kiss abruptly, but you can't shake the feeling that Ace is shamelessly taking advantage of the situation.

For a brief moment they give you a few glances but they're obviously buying the act.

When they have passed, you break away from Ace and return to a normal stance but speak in your sugary sweet voice.

"Aww honey, then let's go back to the bar and have another drink!" You look at Ace and nod in the men's direction to make it clear that you're following them now.

Together you chase after the four people. At one point, one of the women turns around and you quickly latch onto Ace, gazing up at him lovingly to avoid looking dubious.

As you expected, Ace played along wonderfully. He put his arm around your shoulder and paid attention only to you as if no one else was around you. He even went a step further and gave you a sweet Eskimo kiss with his nose. His teasing grin may be cute on the outside but you can see his real smirk behind it. He's enjoying being close to you for the sake of the show and you immediately blush…

"Look forward and don't fall behind, you stupid bitch." Somewhat roughly, one of the men grabbed the woman by the shoulder and pulled her towards him. You couldn't help but notice the look on her face. A hopeless look.

When their backs are turned to you again, you look at them with skepticism. The gentlemen are well dressed, but you can see a small tattoo on the neck of one of them… Where have you seen this tattoo before? It looks familiar…

The ladies are dolled up like slutty escorts, don't speak a word and are downright terrified. You know what that means and that is, that you need to find out more about them.

At the bar of the restaurant, you watch the small group eating from a safe distance. The women were so frightened that they hardly ate anything or looked up from their plates…

You grit your teeth and turn to Ace.

"This is going to be trickier than I thought. So far they've only talked about unimportant things…" - " Then we'll have to get in touch with the women somehow…" he observes the women with slightly narrowed eyes. It's clear to you that these people play an important role when it comes to your mission.

You rummage for something in your handbag.

"Good idea Ace... the men don't seem stupid enough to talk in public but we can work this out." The black haired man leans towards you while holding onto his drink with one hand.

"What do we do now?" You already have a rough idea, you know that no matter where the women go, they will be watched, but there is one place where they will be alone for a brief moment. The toilet.

You ask the bartender for a pen and paper and write down a few words, folding the paper several times.

"Watch and learn." You lean forward towards Ace and smile at him with a confident wink.

You take one last sip from your glass and slide off the bar stool to go to the toilets. Luckily, the suspects are sitting right on the way there and you fall in a dramatic and skilled fashion, right next to the one woman. You try to hold on to the table but you knock her glass down with you. With flushed cheeks, you look up at her and grab her by the arm to apologize profusely.

You put some money on the table for the spilled drink and take one of her hands and again you apologize sincerely to her while you press your note into her hand under the table.

The gentlemen watch attentively as you place her glass but say nothing and just look you up and down.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed your meal, have a nice day!" and embarrassed, you scurry down the corridor to the toilets.

Behind the door of the ladies room, your embarrassed expression disappears immediately and you head straight for the first toilet to carry out the second part of your plan.

You write a few words on another piece of paper, but this time you write more. You have to hurry because you don't have much time. Their plates are almost empty and when they leave the restaurant there won't be another chance.

Hastily you write the last words in a sloppy handwriting and fold the paper up again. You take one of the spy buds out of your handbag and tape it together with the note to the lid of the toilet. Then you leave the lid up so that nobody will see it…

In the meantime, Ace watches as the woman carefully read the note you gave her under the table. Without looking at it, she hides the note in her nylons.

When you came out of the bathroom and sat down next to Ace, you heard her say that she needed to use the toilet and one of the men wiped his mouth in annoyance.

"You women are annoying, I'll be glad when this job is done…"

"Get up and go ahead," he said as he stood up as well.

They both disappeared in the direction of the ladies room and, as you assumed, the guy didn't even have the shame to wait outside. He went into the restroom with her, but you know it's unlikely he'll go into the stall with her.

You turn your back to the remaining people and swirl your glass.

"What kind of performance was that? That was awesome and absolutely natural!" Ace is visibly surprised by your little act.

"That's a piece of cake." - "A piece of cake?! Even I thought you fell down for real y/n… that was incredible." With a proud grin, you clink glasses with each other.

"Now we just have to wait and see if she plays along." - "I believe she does. She hid your note in her tights, I think she definitely doesn't want to be there."

Your gaze wanders to the side but you don't answer him. Even if she wants to cooperate, you won't be able to help her. If you help her escape, it could cause trouble and endanger the actual mission.

Your goal is not to be a hero, but to play an informant. Just like for those men there, she's just a mere tool for your own benefit… You feel a little sick to yourself, you know what's waiting for these girls in the end and you don't wish it on anyone, but either you bring Doflamingo down and stop this slave trade completely, or you save two girls and get caught.

You have to make that decision. You're not proud of it but honestly it's never been hard for you because you know that the actual goal would help a lot more people.

Also, if you are exposed, then people will keep an eye on the Whitebeard pirates and that would be unfortunate for you…

You don't even notice how you're biting your lip the whole time. It's a little habit of yours, especially when you're deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" It doesn't go unnoticed how you chew your bottom lip. Amused, he nudges you with his elbow as you still don't react. A little startled, you look up at him and blush as you stare into his eyes. Ace sitting next to you while you're on a mission is still strange. You're used to being alone and having Ace as your partner doesn't make it any better…

"Just that you might be right." You look ahead. You keep your true thoughts to yourself for now.

"Really?" A little too happy for your taste, Ace smiles to himself as he looks into his glass.

"Tell me, what did you write on the note?" - "On the first one, that if she's in danger, she should go to the bathroom. I left her another message in the first stall…" You carefully take the second earphone out of your pocket and hold it up to Ace's face. He raises his eyebrow a little as though he can't fully understand.

"I offered her a deal." You pause for a moment, secretly knowing you won't keep this deal. It's all for the bigger picture, you keep telling yourself.

"If she makes the deal, we'll be able to eavesdrop on them later when they're in their private rooms." You play with the earphone between your fingers like it's a marble. It makes click in Ace's head and he gets the idea.

"That's perfect! Sooner or later they'll talk!" Ace is clearly looking overjoyed, as if the job is already done.

"Not quite yet… When they leave, I'll see what kind of answer she leaves me…" You nod toward the restrooms and Ace nods in agreement. Chances are good, but inside you're preparing a plan B.

After a while, as your possible accomplice came back out of the restroom with the other man, all four of them left the restaurant.

The moment of truth has arrived. Will she play along?

You wait a moment until they are out of sight and get up.

"Pay the bill… after I get back we should head to our room." Ace nods at you and calls the bartender over.

Your heart is pounding as you open the door to the stall. Will you have an easy game or will you have to come up with a new plan?

You briefly squint your eyes as you close the door behind you. For a moment, you hesitate before looking at her answer.

If she goes along with it, she should flush your letter down the toilet and put the earphone in. If not, she should tear up your letter and throw it in the bin.

You hold your breath without realizing as you open the trash can... There is no letter in there.

Satisfied, you exhale. She is playing along.

You quickly make your way back to Ace, who is still waiting for you at the bar. He looks at you intensely as if he wants to read the answer from your face.

"And?"

"Let's go into our room and discuss everything else."

As soon as you arrive in your room, you get everything ready.

You place a Den Den Mushi on a table and plug in your one earphone. You flick a few switches on the snail so that their voices can be heard aloud but no one can hear you. You don't want her to hear what you say or find out who you are. A name alone would be already bad... If the men discover the earpiece, the risk of her talking is too high. The less she knows about you, the better.

Ace watched you connect the equipment, as if you had done it thousands of times before and sat down on the bed.

When you're done, you drop down next to him on the bed and stare at the speaker. For a while you stare at the snail as it plays the voices of the men. So far the conversations have been meaningless, but you are aware that this can take a while. They probably won't talk while the women are awake.

The silence is interrupted when Ace's stomach makes itself heard. Embarrassed, he grips the back of his neck and mumbles a quiet 'sorry'. The blush on his face makes you giggle because he's really adorable whenever he's embarrassed.

You think for a moment... It would also do you some good to eat, so you crawl to the other side of the bed, because there was a phone on the nightstand. Ace's eyes follow you discreetly as you reach across the bed. His gaze travels up your long legs to your ass.

Oh, how he would love to grab you by the hips and push your dress up so he could look at your ass. Your lovely curves shimmer slightly through your dress, but he pulls himself together and banishes his desires.

Now is not the right time and he doesn't want to mess things up with you. The day will come when you belong to him, he will make sure of that, but he knows how important this mission is to you. He knows how much you enjoy your job and, above all, how well you do it.

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts and the only thing he catches is you saying goodbye and putting the phone down.

"The food should be here in half an hour, I hope your stomach can hold out until then." You plop down next to him again and lean over to him with a broad smirk.

At first he seemed a little surprised, but this expression quickly changed on his face and his lips curled into a mischievous grin instead.

"Maybe you could distract me a little…" His voice is so seductive and low… you suddenly get quite warm and open your mouth but no words come out. Should you go along and take it to the extreme or should you break the atmosphere?

You think of Marco's words; you shouldn't deepen these feelings, they lead to nothing.

But the desire is great. Unconsciously, you lean further forward and look at him with innocent eyes.

"What would you like?" You won't grant him that he's the one in control. Let him tell you about his fantasies… Maybe you'll like it? You don't have to do it, but hearing it will be good for your self esteem.

He exhales with a small laugh and looks down.

His fingers search for a bare spot on your body and you allow him to caress your thigh.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, you hear the men through the Den Den Mushi.

"When are we meeting with the guy tomorrow?" Your eyes shoot over to the snail and both of you are completely back to work. You reach for your notebook, it could be getting interesting now.

You interlace your fingers and listen attentively to their conversation.

"He said we should come straight to the moulin rouge to deliver the goods." - "Okay, very good." A short pause follows and you write down the name. Moulin rouge… writing it down you add 'address' with a question mark. You assume it's a brothel or something similar, but Dressrosa is big…

"Tell me Johnny, why don't we test the 'goods' before we deliver them?" Your stomach is churning, you sense something bad.

A dirty laugh sounds through the speaker, followed by desperate screams from the women. With contorted faces, you listen to the panicked and tormented cries until Ace decides to turn off the snail.

"I'm sorry y/n but one more second and I'll break down their door…" Ace clenches his fists, he's about to storm off but you get up and grab his hands to calm him down.

"Yeah yeah, I know… but we'll make sure everyone gets free…" As long as they're not already sold to a rich buyer... but you won't let Ace know that.

At your gentle voice, Ace's body begins to relax and his jaw unclenches. You can understand him, it was cruel to listen to. Even though you would have liked to know more than just a name, you could no longer listen to these desperate cries. You were only a second away and then you would have turned off the Den Den Mushi yourself.

After the food was brought to you, you worked on a few notes you had made about the day. You've added questions that you hope will be answered on the mission, something that helps you keep track of things, and without you realizing it, Ace looks over your shoulder as he stuffs his face with food.

"Aren't you hungry at all?" he remarks as he looks at your barely touched plate.

You literally wake up from your work mode and find yourself in a room with Ace. He recognizes your slight confusion and looks at your plate. You look at your plate a little slowly and your stomach turns immediately, feeling starved.

"Ah yes, you're right…" You put the notes aside and start eating.

Ace joins you at the small table and you eat together while you talk about all sorts of things. Ace almost glows as he talks about his brothers and their adventures. With your chin in your hand, you listen to him attentively. You enjoy this carefree moment with Ace.

"Tell me y/n what happened before the Whitebeard pirates? Where's your family?" You lean back in your chair with a somewhat troubled look on your face. You don't like talking about the time before the Whitebeard Pirates… For you, your life started when you followed Whitebeard.

Ace doesn't miss the change and seems a little panicked as he assures you that you don't have to tell him. That's exactly why you don't want to get involved with Ace. The closer the bond, the more you confide in him.

So far, all you've experienced is separation and a feeling of vulnerability. You've shown them your weak side and that's what you want to avoid now.

"It's okay… It's just that I don't like talking about it…" You look up at him a little uncertainly.

"And you don't have to, I promise. I don't want to pressure you into anything." His eyes seem honest and you believe him without hesitation.

"You'd better tell me why Whitebeard adores you so much… I can understand why, but he really does treat you like his own daughter." You grin to yourself. You don't know exactly either.

"I really have no clue…" You yawn a little, it's already quite late.

"We should go to bed, the ship docks tomorrow morning and we have to get the other earbud before we dock, which means we have to get up early." - "Ah yes, that's right, the woman has the other earphone…"

You disappear into the bathroom with your sleeping clothes to change and get ready for bed. When you came back into the room, you saw Ace about to go to bed. In just his undershorts...

With his back leaning against the headboard, he covered himself with a blanket while his whole upper body was exposed. Putting his arms behind his head, he smiled at you mockingly.

"Are you coming to bed my love?" You roll your eyes and get under the covers.

"Stop messing around Ace. There's no one here we have to fool." You lie down with your back to Ace and try to sleep. From the side, you hear Ace's little sigh and you notice him lying down.

"I'm not messing around…" His hands reach out to pull you close to him and he buries his face in your hair.

Your body tenses but you don't feel able to fight back and let Ace embrace you.

"I'm sorry y/n but you always smell so good. Your smell drives me crazy…" His hand wanders under your shirt and he gently strokes your skin.

Even if he had planned not to get too close to you, he can't resist his desire to touch you. These feelings just keep building up as soon as you're within reach. Without much thought, he enjoys the feeling of your skin as he runs his hand over your curves.

"Your skin is so smooth like a sweet peach, it makes me addicted." His lips are right by your ear as he whispers the words in a voice filled with pleasure. His raspy voice gives you chills and without you being able to stop it, your body moves to match his gentle touch.

"Ace please, stop…" The way you're grinding your ass against him, doesn't make you look like you want him to stop.

His skillful hands move carefully from your thighs up to your breasts and he gently begins to knead them. Tender sounds escaped your lips as Ace began to tug slowly on your already hard nipple. He began to feast on your neck and placed countless kisses, causing you to arch your back.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?"

You suck in the air a little shakily. How can a kiss be so intense? But you can't give in. You have to hold your ground.

"Yes… Please… Please stop…" Your voice is almost pleading, but the excitement is hard to ignore.

"What if I don't stop?" His hand moves further down, towards your underwear.

Yeah, then what? You ask yourself but you do nothing... His finger plays with the thin band of your slip and lets the rubber snap against your sensitive skin.

Fingertips disappear lightly under your underwear and brush over your skin without going directly between your already drenched folds.

"Mhhm… y/n you make me so hard…" It was a mistake to share a cabin with him, if this continues Ace will have you in the palm of his hand. His soft moans drive you crazy. How do you get out of this situation?

"Ace, this is not a good idea…" You try to talk some sense into him while you enjoy his touch with your eyes closed.

"What's not a good idea?" - "If we sleep together…" Ace's erection against your back increases your desire, to get on top of him and let him fuck you all night. You can almost feel it, the sensation of his magnificent piece filling your greedy pussy…

You shamelessly move your butt up and down and rub his dick, to which Ace reacts with a satisfied moan. He grabs your thigh a little roughly and pushes you closer to him so that his cock presses between your butt cheeks.

His massive boner feels like it's about to pop out of his underpants and you would love to suck his life out of him. Automatically, the saliva gathers in your mouth…

After you had sex on the beach, you had all kinds of dreams about giving him the blowjob of his life and if there were no feelings involved, you wouldn't hesitate for a second.

You open your eyes and try to control your unsteady breathing. It's not fair what he's doing to you.

You turn to him and push him into the bed to sit on him. You are already familiar with this sight… His gaze seems a little hazy, as if he's drunk on you.

Ace enjoys the view; How your nipples stiffen, how your chest goes up and down because of your rapid breathing and when he looks down at you he recognizes the wet spot on your slip. He breathes out a little heavily at the sight of you… Your eyes look at him a little angrily, but he recognizes the blazing lust behind them.

He bites his lip as he watches you struggle. He's glad you feel the same way and no matter what you say against it, your body speaks the truth.

Your breathing is still a little heavy as you sit on top of him, but Ace's smirk is back on his lips.

"That brings back memories…" - "I know! And for a while I couldn't think of anything else but we shouldn't do this…"

He comes up to you and grabs you by the arms while you're still sitting on his lap.

"Why shouldn't we do this y/n??!" His voice is very serious but you can feel the desperation behind it.

"I can't trust your longing…" He rests his forehead on yours and lets his shoulders drop a little. He feels a ashamed. You've already had a similar conversation and he assured you back then, that he was waiting for you and now?

He has broken his word and touched you as he pleased. He curses himself. He probably got too greedy when you came to bed wearing just a shirt.

His fingers found their way to your skin all by themselves and at a certain point he couldn't stop himself. He knows he's not alone with these feelings, but he doesn't understand why you won't let him near you...

He doesn't want to scare you off, but when you're this close to him, he has the urge to touch you…

He puts his arms around you and buries his face in your nape. Your arms automatically go around him and you lean your head on his.

"I'm sorry y/n." he whispers to you. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and you want to tell him how much you long for him too, but you're not ready to take that step.

"If you want, we could cuddle…" You say the words a little shyly. Will it do you any good? Certainly not, but seeing Ace like this isn't something you want either.

"Really? You're okay with that?" He looks up at you happily and searches your eyes to see if you're serious. You nod at him with a gentle smile and he breaks away from you to lie down with his arms outstretched.

He taps on the empty space next to him and looks at you gleefully. You can't help but laugh and snuggle up to him.

Feeling your skin is the most important thing for Ace, even if it's just your little finger.

A/N: Haahhhh… I don't know guys... somehow I love this chapter but somehow I don't? lol. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it <3

➽ Next chapter (not available yet)

#one piece #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one shot ace #ace one piece #portgas ace x you #ace x you #short fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic

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sixeyescurseuser · 3 days

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part 1

Geto is slowing down. He begins engaging in conversation with Gojo, allowing the sorcerer to get within arms length of him.

Geto works up the nerve to ask, “How do you know where I am all the time?”

Gojo shrugs. “I can smell you.”

“EH?” Geto raises an arm and smells his armpit. "But I’m a curse. I don’t...produce a scent.”

Gojo shrugs again. “You do to me.”

Geto’s eye twitches.

“Okay, well. I gotta go - nice talking to you BYE!” he says while fleeing once again.

Not even a week later, they meet again during night time, in an open field, where the moon hangs high up in the air.

Geto perches on a tree branch while Gojo sits on the ground, laying against the tree. Strangely enough, Gojo hasn’t struck up another conversation since joining Geto in his peaceful spot to rest.

Geto decides to be social this time around.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” he quietly comments.

“Oh, is it?”

Geto glares down at Gojo, the sorcerer obviously noticing the heated look from his companion. Sure, Gojo is blindfolded, but he stated that his six eyes are still powerful enough to perceive his surroundings in great detail.

Shouldn’t he be able to see how bright the moon is?

“Yes, it’s a full moon,” Geto says. “I usually don’t slow down enough to appreciate it.”

Gojo hums, as if in agreement. He tilts his chin up to face towards the curse above him.

“I see something else that’s beautiful tonight too, but it’s certainly not the moon,” Gojo murmurs softly.

Geto sighs. “Why are you still following me?” In lieu of an answer, Gojo goes from sitting at the base of the tree to sitting on the branch next to Geto’s in the blink of an eye. Geto gasps, turning his gaze away in fear of unleashing his powers on the sorcerer, even though Gojo still wears his blindfold.

“I follow you because I enjoy your company,” Gojo responds, lacking the usually teasing tone he has when pursuing Geto in their game of tag. “It’s less lonely, isn’t it?”

Somehow, Geto’s cheeks heat up. First, being indirectly complimented for his beauty (whether Gojo could truly see him or not), and second, acknowledging they’ve been sharing a sense of companionship for the past few weeks.

Gojo Satoru is certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Geto just hopes he doesn’t get burned in the process.

***

Gojo finds Geto beyond endearing. The drawings of Geto in history books depict him to be much scarier and violent.

But he was human too. And Gojo feels this every time he manages to cross paths with the tired curse. Frankly, Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if most of the information in history books are mere rumors that conceal the truth.

Making Geto out to be something he really is not.

Well, if he plays his cards right, Gojo will hopefully be able to uncover that truth, and see Geto in the way Gojo himself wishes to be seen.

When Gojo reveals who exactly the strong and resilient partner he’s taken a liking to, Shoko can only sigh while lighting a new cigarette.

Shoko: “I can't say I’m surprised.”

***

The first time they kiss, they’re sitting together on a bench in the quiet section of a park surrounded by flowers in bloom. This is the first touch of affection Geto has ever experienced, always used and abused when he lived as a sorcerer and hated as a curse.

However, Gojo’s hand tenderly cups his jaw, guiding their lips together in languid kisses that part with wet smacking noises-

“Fuck! That hurt!” Gojo yelps while pulling away.

Geto’s snakes, being the biggest haters of their budding relationship, keep biting Gojo’s forehead. Geto scolds his snakes in an angry whisper.

“Stop it! This is a good thing! Don’t ruin this for me,” Geto says. The snakes respond in their own unique ways.

“Sorcerer, show us your eyes - just one peek!”

“KILL HIM.”

“Geto-san, I’m hungry~~”

One lone snake actually takes a liking to Gojo and scents his cheek with a flick of the tongue.

Despite Geto’s occasional embarrassment of his snakes’ behavior, Gojo finds them cute anyway.

***

Gojo and Geto decide on a secluded cottage for Geto to live in. With money and status not being an issue, Gojo took care of furnishing the cottage and land ownership.

Gojo also has barriers in place so no one - non-sorcerers OR sorcerers - will bother Geto. Gojo insists it’s the least Geto deserves considering the circumstances in how they met.

Geto wants to cry because he hasn’t even told Gojo half of the shit he’s been through. Yet, Gojo is offering the peace Geto has so desperately craved all his life, right here on a silver platter.

Better yet, a peace without eternal loneliness.

Geto is still scared of wandering out by himself because of his powers, so Geto keeps himself busy inside the cottage.

Gojo visits when he can, usually every couple of days. Like a cat who’s been waiting for its owner to come home, Geto greets Gojo with a long kiss. Over time, Geto’s snakes have also come to love Gojo, and they too will place kisses all over Gojo’s face when the lovers are close.

Gojo makes sure to bring back dozens of treats for Geto to try. Geto’s tastebuds are nowhere near what they used to be, but he giddily accepts the bland food that’s been provided with love and care.

Geto versus technology is an entertaining phenomenon. He’s a curse from the ancient times, and there hasn’t been an opportunity to learn the new ways of mobile devices or the internet.

Geto picks up texting the quickest, though he uses formal grammar in dense paragraphs and puts a period after each sentence.

Gojo sends Geto lots of funny videos, to which Geto responds with: “Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Gojo types back :“so harsh, suguru!🥹”

Geto: “I laughed though.”

Gojo: “yes you did, my dear🥰”

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

***

part 3

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fluff #satosugu headcanon #goge #satosugu fanfic #cerdrabbles #curse geto #sorcerer Gojo #tbc

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mk-writes-stuff · 3 days

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Personality Through Quotes

Rules: write quotes for your OCs following the prompts, then create a new prompt for the next people

Thanks @mysticstarlightduck, @elsie-writes, and @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tags! My prompts are, “a quote about their relationship with money,” “a quote about getting or being sick,” and “a quote about a weird habit they or someone else has.”

A quote about their relationship with money

Belladonna: “I try to be reasonable with my budget, but a noblewoman can afford to splurge.”

Cassie: “Yeah, fine, I’ll admit this bodyguard shit pays pretty well. Still not worth dealing with nobles.”

Nellie: “I just got my first paycheque yesterday! Cassie said she’d take me shopping, and I’m so excited. I’ve never been shopping before.”

Narcissus: “Money? Why would I worry about that? My station can afford it.”

Ricinus: “Proper budgeting is essential to station management.”

Goldenrod: “Ricinus always complains about me spending money. I don’t know why, we can afford it.”

Cassiopeia: “My station always does well financially. I keep a good hold on it.”

Stellaris: “I’m not good with numbers, but that doesn’t mean I can’t budget! It just takes me a bit longer, that’s all.”

Rhys: “I’ve never had money. Clones don’t get paid.”

Sel: “Money! I know what that is and how to spend it… of course…”

A quote about getting or being sick

Belladonna: “I hate being sick. Luckily, it doesn’t happen too often, but I hate how little I can get done and how puffy my face always looks.”

Cassie: “Couple of coworkers on the lower station told me that a couple ibuprofen and a shot’ll keel you from feeling any illness, and let me tell you, it fucking works.”

Nellie: “I feel sick all the time right now. The doctor said the withdrawal does that, but it’s still miserable.”

Narcissus: “I don’t get sick. But if I did, I’d still look immaculate.” (I feel the need to impress that this is a massive lie.)

Ricinus: “I don’t enjoy getting sick, but it’s a sign I need a break.”

Goldenrod: “Ricinus never takes care of me when I’m sick. It’s so unfair.”

Cassiopeia: “Illness is an unfortunate fact of life. It’s important that I take care of myself when it happens.”

Stellaris: “I feel sick all the time. I hate it.”

Rhys: “I only ever seem to get sick when Goldenrod gets me to wait on her while she is. It’s part of the job, I suppose.”

Sel: “Being sick is stressful. What if I’m feverish and I say something I don’t mean?”

A quote about a weird habit they or someone else has

Belladonna: “Cassie seems to think taking her hand off repeatedly counts as fidgeting. I’ve told her it doesn’t, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

Cassie: “Belladonna thinks I have weird habits? She’s the one who eats like a fucking weirdo, have you seen the way she practically plots out every bite like it’s a fucking military maneuver?”

Nellie: “I don’t understand why Rhys holds his knives the way he does. I really should ask him. It just seems unsafe to hold them in a fist like that - he keeps cutting himself. I’m worried about him.”

Narcissus: “I don’t understand why everyone seems to be in the constant habit of trying to one-up me. I mean, it’s already clear that I’m superior to them and it’s not going to work - what are they trying to achieve?”

Ricinus: “Goldenrod’s peculiar habits all make sense to me. I know they’re covers for her to cheat.”

Goldenrod: “Ricinus thinks he’s being subtle with his little sneaky methods to see if I’m cheating, but I know what he’s up to.”

Cassiopeia: “I don’t understand Stellaris. He’s always waving his hands in the air and making some little squealing noise. I’ve told him it’s undignified, but he won’t stop.”

Stellaris: “I know my little hand movements and little sounds make me a freak, but they feel so natural and so relieving that sometimes they just happen.”

Rhys: “Nellie says I hold my knives weird. I know I do, but I can’t seem to hold them the right way. My hands don’t listen to me.”

Sel: “I know I have strange habits. I pull at my hair when I’m anxious.” *is currently pulling his hair*

I don’t feel super confident in this one but it’s done now :)

@illarian-rambling @somethingclevermahogony @touloserlautrec want to play? Your prompt is, “a quote about rest.”

#writeblr #tag game #seven station chronicles

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marcos--budt · 1 year

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Reminder that the revolution is still ongoing in Iran, the regime is still committing unspeakable crimes against humanity. There have been over 300 confirmed killings (the real numbers are way higher) over 15000 arrests and those arrested have been sentenced to death. If you think it's gotten more quiet about Iran it's not because it's about to end, it's because the regime has cut off internet and is punishing people for bringing their smartphones out in public to film and share what's going on. We need to be their voice. Look at my tag "resources for helping Iran" for actions to take, petitions to sign, accounts to follow and learning how to help Iranian get internet access.

Keep using the hashtags, most importantly MahsaAmini (her Kurdish name was Jîna Emînî).

#I dont know if I should tag this since its just a little reminder and not very informative #At the same time its important to keep the tag alive and trending #Mahsa Amini #Iran #just tagging this for it to be part of the noise to keep the tag trending

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sttoru · 19 days

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𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. sukuna is shameless—not caring if anyone were to ever catch him righteously claiming ownership over his favorite concubine in the garden.

wc. 1.5k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. exhibitionism. size difference. dumbification \\ objectification. has two c.ocks. hair pulling. use of spit (yeah ik i wouldnt write for it but its sukuna). breeding themes. overstimulation. reader gets called ‘little girl, slut’. sukuna’s a menace and loves to create drama between his concubines

“shut up. i don’t care if they’re here or not,” sukuna grunts, tightening his grip on your fleshy thighs as his lower cock slams in and out your sloppy cunt without much thought. the sound of pruning shears cutting off branches is easily overwhelmed by the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin.

you feel sorry for those servants who’re just doing their job tending to the garden. none of them dare to look your way. they’re sweating, eyes solely focused on the branches they’re cutting, acting like they are not hearing the sinful moans and grunts in the distance. if they look, they’re dead. that much is known.

everything is blurry to you. all you can manage to do is let out a string of pleasure filled whines. your body is easily overpowered and held up against the harsh wood of the nearby wall. your thighs are spread in an awfully painful way, your knees up to your chest. quite literally folded in half.

“i said eyes on me, y’ fuckin’ slut,” sukuna barks. he does not have the patience today. you breaking the intense eye contact with him only worsens his mood. one of his veiny hands tug at your hair. the others hold you up—not allowing you to even think of getting back on your feet until your tight cunt is done milking him for what he’s worth.

you gasp and sukuna takes the chance to grab your jaw with yet another free hand. “open y’r mouth,” his hips do not still for even a second. they roll and ground against yours, the surrounding skin near his pelvis stained with your wet juices. he could smell it. just as nasty and dirty as he wants it to be.

you part your lips and keep them like that, not wanting to piss sukuna off even more. he grins at the sight of your red tongue instinctively rolling out like the obedient little girl you are. he spits right into your mouth, “swallow.”

you do so without second thought. the warm liquid trickles down your throat. sukuna watches in satisfaction, drilling into you until your insides are complete mush. you’re drooling over yourself already—clearly having lost control over your rationality.

you sniffle and try to hold onto sukuna’s biceps. your small fingers curl around the shape of them, nails digging into his flesh. every time you think sukuna’s finally letting up, he only increases his inhuman pace. “my l-lord, ‘s too much,” you cry out. your body could only handle so much pleasure before it’d break down. your pussy is convulsing around his girthy cock, feeling his other sliding back and forth over your sensitive clit.

the king of curses shuts you up with a hiss. his bottom set of eyes is focused on the impressive scene of your tiny pussy swallowing his cock so easily. he’s feeling proud of the fact that he’s molded you into the perfect concubine for him and his carnal pleasure.

sukuna has fucked you silly enough times to know how to get you under his spell. his fingers brush over your hard nipples, grabbing the squishy flesh of your tits as they bounce with each of his thrusts. he leans his head down towards yours. his rough, raspy voice makes your body heat up, “no, no. it’s never too much for my little girl, right? she can easily take ‘nother load f’me.”

your breath hitches and sukuna realises it worked. he knows just what to say to manipulate you into giving in. so he can fuck you senseless for how long he wants. you’re a sucker for the fact that he calls you his. that’s what you are—you’re his woman. only his and no one else’s. the claim of ownership makes your pussy clench.

“y-yes, my lord. i can take another, i can,” you breathe out, head swaying from side to side, not mentally able anymore to keep up with sukuna’s intense libido. yet, your body is still active, squeezing around sukuna’s dick as he promised you more of his precious cum.

the king of curses snickers, amused by just how fast you gave in. “that’s what i thought, hah,” he’s realised that his hold on you knows no bounds. you’re his little toy. the only one he wants to ravish these days. and the only one worth of carrying his seed.

you’re still thinking about the way he’s called you ‘his little girl’. it’s driving you closer to the edge. you start to get louder, completely ignoring your inner thoughts that begged you to have some decorum; to try and hide the fact that you’re getting slutted out in the courtyard.

there’s not much hiding it anyway since the servants have a clear understanding of what’s going on behind them. “mghh, please—please need more!” you mewl and sukuna listens. his red eyes darken with desire as you get into it. he loves to experience that lust driven side of yours. a complete opposite to your usual formal and shy self.

“louder, c’mon. let them know i’m fucking you good,” sukuna sneers, enjoying the mind games he is playing with you. you’re too cockdrunk to even notice. the them in his sentence refers to his other concubines. he knows that you’re secretly craving to get revenge on them and show them just how well you get dicked down by him every single day.

unlike them, who rarely get graced by his touch. that is, when you’re unavailable.

you do as told and increase the volume of your erotic moans, letting everyone around the estate know what you’re getting up to. not like anyone could interfere. sukuna wouldn’t dare let them live a second after.

“that’s it, yeah,” the sorcerer grunts and rams his length repeatedly into you, cursing at the way you’re gripping him so tightly. you’re so dripping wet that he slips out of you for a second. he moves his hips, angling them better to slam back inside of you.

however, you’re one step ahead. your shaky hand reaches down between your legs and you quickly guide his tip to your entrance, urging him to push between your moist folds again. “nasty fuckin’ girl,” sukuna scoffs at your desperation, though secretly thrives off it. he switches cocks and shoves the upper one into your cunt.

you gasp. you’re so used to him to the point that you could sense the difference between his dicks. the upper one has more veins and is a tad bit girthier. you hiccup and nearly choke on your own moans and spit from the change of pace and dicks. “ngh, ‘tis so deep, my lord—” you whine loudly and your hands move to hold your breasts, stopping them from painfully jiggling around in every direction.

sukuna hums in content as he continues his rough thrusts. he can feel his balls twitch and clench, ready to shoot his sperm all up in your womb like you deserve. though, he doesn’t want to end this moment too quickly. he wants to extend it.

“c’mere,” sukuna grumbles and stops pounding your poor, aching cunt. he stills his dick inside you and allows you to cling onto his tall stature, lifting you away from the wall. he silently urges you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you.

the robes of your kimono get left behind on the patch of grass near the wall of the main house. there’s a few droplets of white liquid that’s stained the grass, right where sukuna and you were standing at seconds ago.

you don’t think about anything anymore as you babble about how full you felt with his cock all the way in you. the fat tip brushes against your cervix with each step sukuna takes towards his next destination.

“keep talkin’ to me, doll. tell me how good it feels to take my cock,” he grins smugly as he carries your little body like a trophy into the main building—not paying mind to any maids who he passes by. they’re shocked by the sight of their lady in such a state, though are only able to bow at the two of you.

sukuna finally stops in front of the dinner table. the same table you always have dinner at with him and his other women. he places your back against the surface, big hands holding you down by your hips. “there we go,” he coos mockingly, seeing how you’re completely fucked out, yet still needing more of him.

the king of curses has his own twisted reasons of bringing you here. looking outside of the window, you notice how the sun is starting to set. that’s also the moment you realise his hidden motive.

the other concubines will sooner or later gather at the dining hall to eat supper. they’d expect a peaceful meal, though instead, they’ll be greeted by the sight of their dear lord screwing his favorite. it’ll be a painful blow to them.

which is exactly what the ruthless man wants to achieve.

sukuna licks his lips and all of his eyes focus on you solely, “gonna enjoy my dinner a bit earlier t’day, yeah?”

CR. STTORU 2024

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n

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rowarn · 5 months

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PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed.

It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off.

People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself. Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of.

By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.

You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in.

“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting.

He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you.

“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously.

“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”

Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”

He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator.

“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.

“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.

“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that.

He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.

“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”

“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”

He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”

He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.

He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.

“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.

He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”

He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.

“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.

“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now.

You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it.

You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.

He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”

“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”

“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone.

“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”

“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.

“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”

“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation.

You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out.

You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed.

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”

“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”

“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.

You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”

He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that.

Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders.

The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom.

It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent.

You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape.

You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed.

Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14.

It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!

You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine.

Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.

He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.

Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered.

It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.

He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well.

The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual.

Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver.

After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.

“Good morning,” you called.

“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.

You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious.

As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.

“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that.

The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away.

You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around.

“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.

“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”

“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.

He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them.

“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving.

You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.

He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.

“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned.

Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet.

When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar.

As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together.

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky.

Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself.

But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better.

Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?

You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching.

With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication.

You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit.

You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself.

But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall.

You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate.

Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.

You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore.

You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.

Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready.

Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life.

You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.

What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not.

You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar.

At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar.

It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread.

It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with.

He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you.

You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work.

So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.

The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted.

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly.

Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be.

You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell.

You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell.

“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name.

You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.

“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them.

“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.

“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray.

“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes.

It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.

“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation.

One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”

Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads.

“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.

“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”

“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”

Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong.

The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face.

The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face.

The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state.

She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them.

“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply.

The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious.

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker.

She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone.

He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.

“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”

“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”

He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.

“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”

His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.

“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”

You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open.

You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.

The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again.

She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out.

Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”

You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.

She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”

“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”

It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one.

“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.

You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it.

You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon.

You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table.

“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”

You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”

“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.

“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.

“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door.

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath.

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time.

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back.

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling.

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you.

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips.

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap.

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table.

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street.

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots.

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep.

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated.

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad.

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands.

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off?

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.”

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself.

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known.

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave.

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response.

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained.

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom.

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements.

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly.

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance.

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young.

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother.

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked.

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that.

You never brought it up again.

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since.

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen.

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup.

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat.

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands.

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself.

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light.

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work.

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?”

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon.

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms.

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him.

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor.

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch.

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen.

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond.

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved.

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking.

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things.

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big.

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built.

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue.

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred.

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back.

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing.

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them.

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken.

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut.

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up.

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought.

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk.

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it.

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly.

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you.

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan.

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place.

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes.

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that.

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him.

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed.

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day.

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass.

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry.

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all.

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you.

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder.

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much.

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever.

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse.

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger.

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there.

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you.

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life.

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately.

You wish that he loved you.

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep.

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you.

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight.

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you.

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him.

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry.

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts.

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it.

Then you do it again. And again. And again.

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek.

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise.

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness.

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room.

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing.

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping.

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave.

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him.

God, you hate him.

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway.

He wanders further into the room before pausing.

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you.

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy.

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like.

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red.

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you.

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out.

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious.

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him.

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now.

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable.

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too.

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room.

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself.

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck.

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that.

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door.

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it.

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit.

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares.

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you.

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him.

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls.

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you.

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise.

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness.

You cry all the time. Day and night.

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him.

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid.

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on.

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome.

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again.

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore.

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month.

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear.

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to.

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope.

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar.

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is.

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back.

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it.

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.”

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking.

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself.

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in.

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel.

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day.

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold.

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time.

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left.

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet.

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself.

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope.

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep.

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do.

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake.

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever.

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it.

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open.

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else.

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway.

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat.

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room.

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him.

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was.

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go.

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed.

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go.

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds.

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach.

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap.

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed.

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it.

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat.

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged.

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done.

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen.

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well.

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls.

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone.

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread.

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over.

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even.

His words ring out through your head like a bell.

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash.

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts.

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again.

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time.

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away.

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now.

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on.

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.”

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it.

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is.

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees.

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly.

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes.

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you.

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself.

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place.

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more.

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response.

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again.

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air.

You love him, you really do.

But you’re still so angry at him.

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly.

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?”

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto.

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?”

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated, sad and utterly confused.

You wished he would stop leaving.

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait.

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has.

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep.

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague.

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

do not modify, translate, or repost.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader

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nanivinsmoke · 1 month

Text

Rated-R

saw this art from @/yunonoai on twitter and i cannot stop thinking about it. enjoy ya freaks

roommate!Choso x F!reader

summary ~ when the movie is a little bit more than you both could handle.

warnings and tags ~ porn, mentions of drinking, fingering, oral, sexual tension, nervous choso, teasing, semi-pussyjob, facial, cream pie, degradation, rough sex, squirting, etc~

“what about this one?” you asked, holding up a dvd and showing it to the raven haired male who nodded in approval at your movie selection. popping it into the dvd player, you pressed play and got up from your position on the floor to sit next to choso on the couch.

every friday night the two of you planned to do something with each other, being that it was your only free night out of the week. with you being busy with work and school, and him being busy with work; this was the only time the two of you had for each other.

thanking him for handing you your glass of wine, you relaxed onto the couch and watched the flat screen tv in front of you as it played the movie. The movie starred your favorite actor, satoru gojo. anything he was in automatically became your favorite movie of all time and if he was shirtless, trust you’d go back to the store to get three more copies.

this time it was a romantic comedy and Gojo played the part of the funny charming crush pretty well. while your eyes were glued the to screen, choso couldn’t help but to keep glancing at you from his peripheral.

you were the most beautiful girl that stepped foot on campus, he knew it and everyone sure damn well knew it too. it was no doubt that he had such a huge crush on you. the first time you spoke to him nearly made him cream his pants right there in the study hall.

from that moment on he tried so hard to avoid you, but it’s like fate kept pushing him to you. be it work or school, he was always around you. and when you asked him to be roommates with you because rent was too high, he immediately gave you his half of the rent.

even though you two got closer, he couldn’t help but be still so shy around you. he was in love with you and you knew it too. walking around in your panties and a small shirt that made nipples stand at attention, just to tease him only made it harder for him to not want to feel your soft gummy walls.

choso didn’t care about watching the movie anymore, so he pulled out his phone and turned the volume down; scrolling on instagram to look at your page. he could look at you for hours and if he’d brush up on his art skills, his whole sketch pad would be filled with you.

you glanced over at him, blushing as you caught a glimpse of the video he watched of you. he quickly double tapped it before moving onto the next one. you turned to look at him, he was shirtless—his abs chiseled and defined. and then you took in his features. the sharpness of his jawline, the way the bags underneath his eyes brung them out and his hair that’s usually pulled into two high ponies, sat low on on his shoulders. oh how you imagine tugging on it as he sucked on your pussy like it—.

you whipped your head around towards the television, hearing loud moans and skin slapping coming from it. you had no idea that there was going to be a sex scene, a long and raunchy one at that. your eyes were glued to the screen and you only moved to place your empty glass on the table next to you.

choso had to put his phone down and when he heard the lewd noises coming from the the screen, he couldn’t look away and he couldn’t look at you either. imagining that him and you were on the screen instead, had him rock hard in his pants and he had to grab one of the couch’s pillows to hide his boner from you.

neither of you said anything, not able to look away—your minds clouded with lewd images. choso slipped one of his hands underneath the pillow and into his sweatpants, stroking his boner—the stiffness and the hardness caused him to stifle a moan. precum leaked from his thick mushroom tip the more he slowly rubbed himself to the thought of you cumming around his cock.

hearing soft moans and whimpers on the side of the couch, he turned his tired eyes towards you—blushing when he saw you clutching your boob and your thighs pressing and rubbing together. he couldn’t believe the sight, you were doing that right next to him? he couldn’t stop looking as you pinched your nipple through your t-shirt, your mouth turned in a slight frown—too aroused from watching gojo fuck the woman in the movie.

and when you finally lock eyes with him and softly moan his name, his cock nearly ripped out his pants. “please, choso~,” your voice low—a soft moan following behind. his nervousness left his body the moment he leaned up and hover over you, laying back on the couch—spreading your legs for him. he took a good look at your body, your nipples standing at attention and the wet stain on your panties made it damn near impossible for him to not cum right on the fabric.

his rough hands traced your inner thigh, sending flutters to your pussy. you grabbed his hand, making him pull your panties to the side—unable to bare the overwhelming sensation. “please touch me~” you begged and he leaned down to kiss you for the first time, his lips soft against yours. his hand rubbed up and down against your folds, covering them in your slick—causing you to whimper in between the kiss.

he back away from your addictive lips, leaning down to be eye level with your dripping cunt; his tongue meeting your clit. you gasped and clutched the side of the couch, his tongue swirling and sucking on your sensitive bud. choso had been dreaming about this moment; tasting you, slurping up your fluids to satisfy his thirst. this felt all too surreal for him, but he wasn’t going to stop. not now, not ever.

the more he tongue fucked you the more you desired to cum all over his pretty face. and when he finally pushed in his middle and ring finger, those soft moans of yours became louder; drowning out from what was still playing on the television. you manicure now tangled in his deep brown locks, pushing his head further into your slick; grinding on his face—building up your orgasm.

“you taste so good” his words vibrated against your cunt, causing your back to arch off the bed. it felt so good, you were so so close and he could feel it too. his pace quickened, dipping in and out of your walls with precision. your toes curled and the grip on his hair got tighter as you came right there on his tongue. moaning his name as you ride out your orgasm, while grinding sloppily against his face.

he still pumped his fingers inside of you and didn’t detach himself from your sensitive clit either, working on another orgasm out of you. this one more intense than the last. “oh my fuck! ch-choso~” a stream of clear fluid splashed out and onto his face, catching you both by surprise. he had made you squirt, lapping up the sweet liquid that dripped down his face. you had never squirted before, none of your exes could ever pleasure you that good.

leaning down to kiss you again, you happily accepted his tongue inside your mouth—tasting yourself. gasping when you felt something hard poke you, you pulled away and looked down to see his cock standing up through his sweatpants. ‘there’s no way…’ you knew he wasn’t going to fit inside of you either, but damn were you going to try your hardest.

a smirk etched on your face as you began to grind against his clothed cock, earning a low gasp from him. his eyes planted down on your pussy teasing his cock, your slick mixing with his precum had created a huge stain on his pants. the friction earned a moan from both of your lips, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your bodies.

“can i….please..?” he asked, his tone coming off more as a beg—his dark purple eyes connecting to yours while he pushed himself more onto your pussy. you nod and quickly slid your soaked panties off, throwing them to the far end of your living room, while he did the same with his sweatpants.

‘oh my fu—so big~’ you thought, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. it was so pretty too, couldn’t stop yourself from staring at it. his tip was so pink and had so much pre-cum pooling out of it and from his tip to base he had vein running from it and he was neatly trimmed. you could feel yourself getting even more wetter the more you stared at it, you were gonna have so much fun with him.

getting closer to you again, his angled his cock at your little entrance before he paused and looked at you. “do we need cond—shit, y/n~” he moaned breathlessly as you pushed yourself down onto his girth, answering his question before he could even get it out. “i want to feel all of you cho~,” a whimper leaving your mouth as he began to fill you up.

he thumbed your clit and held your other leg up, easing the pressure as he pushed in you. when all of him was finally inside, he didn’t move and allowed you to get used to his size. the feeling of you clenching around him made him slowly move his hips, stroking in and out of your tight little cunt.

he was so so so fat—he was stretching you out with each stroke with his tip brushing over your spot, clit throbbing as a result. oh you knew you made the right decision when you asked him to be your roommate. choso moved slow, but hit all of the right spots—not wanting to hurt you. “choso, you could be rough with me….i can take it,~” he looked at you wide eyes, hesitant to do anything further until you gave your nod of approval.

all the air was sucked from your lungs when he slammed his hips into yours, his tip making out with your cervix. this is exactly what you wanted, to be fucked like a whore. he grabbed you by the hair, making you watch as he begun to tear your pussy in half, stretching you completely. “look at how good you’re fucking taking me. cunt’s so fucking wet.”

nothing played on the tv, but all that was on your mind was cumming for you roommate and have your belly full of his cum. balls slapping your cunt hard, cream coating his dick with each stroke and his hands now at your throat, fucking you so hard into the soft burgandy couch cushions.

“you love this shit, don’t you? mhm—I knew you were a slut, teasing me with those little ass panties. fuck, gonna let me breed this cunt?” his hand was still wrapped around your throat, only allowing you to nod. he strokes became faster and harder, your little cunt would be sore the next day. he let out a loud groan, his load panting your walls in long thick ropes.

he knew you were going to cum that way you were squeezing and milking his cock as he came. “hold it. don’t cum, yet” you whined as he pulled out of you, halting your orgasm. He sat back on the couch and pulled you on top of him, entering you with ease and pushing your head down as he proceeded to pound the shit out of you.

choso jackhammered you like his life depended on it, grunting in your ear while you moaned softly into his. the sounds of your slick made it harder for him to not bust inside of you again, not before he made you cum again. “daddy, please don’t stop—pound me harder!” hearing the name you called him made his dick twitch, he held your waist and slapped your ass as he pounded you harder.

you couldn’t hold it anymore. his cock became drenched when you squirted, wetting up the couch cushions underneath you. pulling you off of him in a swift motion, he got up and began jerking himself off in front of your face—spurting out thick white loads, covering your pretty face completely.

a wave of nervousness fell over him again and he quickly began apologizing for cumming too much on your face, but when he saw your finger glide on your face and dip into your mouth; he calmed down. a smirk etched into your face as you continued to lick the load off your face.

“mhm, we need to do more movie nights. especially if it’s going to end like this~”

#choso kamo #jjk choso #choso smut #choso x reader #roommate choso #nervous choso #based off fan art #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x y/n #choso x you #choso x female reader #kamo choso #choso kamo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen choso kamo #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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angelltheninth · 8 months

Note

Hey idk if you take requests for monster lovers, but I liked the werewolf one so I would like to request one if possible! Can you write something where reader stumbles upon an abandoned castle and she meets the owner of the castle who is a vampire? Normally he wouldn’t tolerate trespassers, but he’s been very lonely these past decades and the new person is rather cute…

Omg this reminds me of Dracula and Lisa! I loved them in Castlevania.

Pairing: Male!Vampire x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, meet scary, first meeting, crushes, falling in love, domestic fluff, touch starved, kissing, neck kissing, drinking blood

A/N: Here's the thing about vampire bites in my headcanon, they actually feel really good when they're from a vampire you're in love with.

Touch-starved!Vampire who closes his doors to everyone, turning them away, scaring them or if they're really stubborn he will drain them of their blood entirely for bothering him too much. He doesn't want anything to do with... well anyone really. He's happy being on his own, for the most part. Or so he thought.

Touch-starved!Vampire who sees you lost near his castle and at first he wants to shoo you away like everyone else. He sends his bats to do the job. But... you're not scared of them. You think they're cute. Oh. Now that he looks at you again, you're pretty cute too.

Touch-starved!Vampire who doesn't know how you'll react to seeing his fangs so he keeps his hand over his mouth until you move it away for him. Are you actually curious about them? Most people scream bloody murder when they see them. Then again they more then likely to end up dead moments after so it's justified.

Touch-starved!Vampire who can't believe how warm your hands are on his cheeks. He's felt humans before but he never let them get close quite like this. Is he cold for you? If you follow him to the castle he can stand next to the fireplace if that would make you more comfortable.

Touch-starved!Vampire who doesn't understand what the hell is happening to him right now. He's rarely felt like this even around his own species, let alone a human woman. Very curious. He'll have to keep you around more, or at least have you visit more often until he figures it out.

Touch-starved!Vampire who can smell when you're approaching his castle and waits for you at the door, offering you his hand to welcome you in. This becomes something of a routine for you two, so much so that your friends ask about the handsome new man who walks you home every night. Very late at night, or just before the sun rises.

Touch-starved!Vampire who loves it when you eat in front if him. He doesn't eat human food, or rather he doesn't need to, but if he knows that you're the one who made it then he will try it. He will even let you use his very underutilized kitchen and cook with you just to be close to you.

Touch-starved!Vampire who panics when you cut your finger. He will leave if you want him too, he will get you first aid supplies too. He can't control the fact that his fangs elongate when he smells how good you are but its in his nature, so hopefully you don't hold it against him.

Touch-starved!Vampire who stumbles over his feet when you offer him your neck. Understand that for him this will be a big step in your relationship, a new dynamic. Are you sure you want to take this step with him? Because if not he would still love to have you around, your company is always welcome in his castle.

Touch-starved!Vampire who moans when he gets to taste your blood for the first time. He feed a few days ago but it wasn't like this. Is this... yes, he knows now, he's in love with you and from the noise you made when his fangs pierced your skin and how you're pressing against him and sighing contently he would say you feel the same.

#vampire x reader #vampire x human #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x girl #monster x you #terato #vampire imagine #vampire headcanons #vampire fluff #monster imagine #monster headcanons #monster fluff #vampire boyfriend #monster boyfriend #x female reader

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teddiesworldd · 1 month

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after the world ends.

ghost finds you out in the woods during a zombie outbreak and falls in love with you. (2.6K words) read part 2 here!!!

a/n: this idea has been on my mind for a while and it was so sweet i just had to write it down and share it with you <3 also, if you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know!

pairing: simon ghost riley x female reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, mdni!!, apocalypse au, mentions of weapons, killing (zombies), survival situation, unprotected p in v sex, cute fluffy stuff in the middle of a zombie apocalypse because why not?!, soap makes an appearance

day 17 of the apocalypse, 3 weeks after the first outbreak.

you had lasted this long purely by camping out in the back of your car, driving somewhere more remote to avoid the infected and rationing whatever you'd managed to bring in from your kitchen at the beginning of it all. but as supplies got low and you were down to your last water bottle, you were forced to venture out into the nearby woodland, gathering whatever you could forage from the streams and bushes. you knew absolutely nothing about surviving out here. you couldn’t hunt and could barely light a fire. the first day of winter was in less than a month and you had no real shelter to keep you warm. you had no idea which berries were safe to eat or how to filter water. all you had was your kitchen silverware for protection and your best winter jacket for the weather.

you’d last about 2 weeks out here at best, and that’s without the fucking zombies.

you'd been walking for about an hour since leaving your car, and to be honest, you didn’t think you could find your way back now. everything looked the same. you had found only a pocketful of what you could only guess was edible, and a protein bar from the pocket of a dead guy’s jeans. every single noise scared the hell out of you. and the bite marks on his neck raised your adrenaline tenfold.

thud. thud. snap.

footsteps. sticks breaking underfoot.

“who’s there?” you called out. “i’m- i’m serious, come any closer and… and… i’ll kill you!”, shouting now, cold hand gripping your rusted kitchen knife tightly.

you saw a huge figure behind the trunk of a nearby tree, and he chuckled lowly at your brave attempt to scare him away. “you don’t scare me, sweetheart”, the voice said, deep and rough, walking out from behind the tree, “thought y'were a rabbit or something - cute lil' thing, rustling in those bushes. and if i was infected, you’d be dead by now, with a mouth on you like that.”

he was an absolute giant of a man, 6 and a half foot at least and built like a brick shithouse. he was in full military gear, skull mask over his face, armed with a rifle in hand and knives strapped to his chest and belt. he approached you slowly, palms facing you like he was trying not to spook a stray cat. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating - you'd not been sleeping well from the nightmares of the infected night after night.

“no use shouting, anyway - they’ll find you straight away making all that noise.” he continued, leaves crunching under his black boots, walking closer, “what’s a girl like you doing out 'ere, all alone?”

you were frozen in place, like a deer in headlights. he was already intimidating as fuck without the massive armoury hanging round his waist, but now he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. a thought crossed your mind that if he tried to kill you now, there would be absolutely nothing you could do to stop him. it made a shiver run down your back.

his gloved hand reached out to hold your chin. you looked up at him, eyes welling up from the pure fear that ran through you.

“lost?” he said quietly, tilting his head to get a proper look at you.

you nodded slowly.

“well, you won’t get far with that old thing, love” he smirked through the mask, eyeing the blade in your hand. “here, i’ll take you back to camp with me, make you a proper meal, yeah? when did you eat last?”

you engaged in some light small talk on the way, finding out he was called “ghost” and he used to serve in a special operations unit for a private military company. i guess it made sense that the best survivors would be the soldiers. you mentioned how you’d been living in your car for the past two weeks, which seemed to amuse him. he probably thought you were just some dumb girl who’d somehow managed to scrape through until now.

he wasn’t wrong, really.

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his camp was much nicer than the back of your car.

it wasn't far from where he'd found you. they had lots of weapons and food and beds. and people. there must of been about 10 men in total. the infected weren’t really an issue with their impressive arsenal. there was a large fence surrounding the camp and the men took it in turns to kill anything that tried getting inside. it was pretty clear that ghost was closest to one of the other ex-military guys called "soap". they sat together when they ate and stayed up late at night talking together around the fire - matching dog tags glinting in the dim light. you often watched them through your tent door - enjoying their company but not wanting to interrupt their conversation. you listened as they talked deeply, recounting their time serving together, telling stories of bravery and bloodshed. it became your routine to fall asleep listening to them.

after about 3 or 4 weeks, following the first snowfall, you’d adjusted to life in the camp. soap had taught you a few things and often spent the mornings taking you hunting or showing you how to use the guns - a hand on your waist as he lined you up for the kill shot. he had a sweet nature and silly charm to him, telling you ridiculous jokes that only made you laugh because they were so stupid. you would never tell him that though - he thought you found him hilarious.

however, it was ghost you’d grown closest to, giving you anything and everything you needed. he was mysterious and that drew you to him. one time, he took you down to the river to wash the cookware and yourselves, and you'd caught a glimpse of him pulling off his clothes and mask, blonde hair and muscles seeing the light of day. you couldn't deny it - he was gorgeous.

he often checked on you in the evenings, making sure you’d settled in okay. he sat next to your bed, running a gloved hand over your hair, rubbing small circles into your scalp.

“you like the boys?” he’d ask, “they treating you okay?”

and you’d nod, just like you’d do every night.

“not scared, are you, doll?”

you shook your head.

“good. just making sure.”

and with that, he’d leave, heading to his own tent to rest, or out to guard the fence.

but one night, before he got up to get some sleep, you grabbed his hand. he looked back at you, dark eyes watching yours.

“stay?” you whispered.

and he did, without a word. stripping off his heavy gear and perching next to you in bed, rough camo trousers scratching against your bare shoulder.

and he stayed, just like you asked. watching over you like a dog and keeping you safe.

sometime in the night, you’d turned to face him where he sat, resting an arm over his thigh. but he didn’t push you off. he just let you rest - your warm breath causing a dampness throughout the tent.

it was only when the winter sunlight streamed through the tent that you realised he really did stay - all night. you opened your eyes to see he’d settled in next to you, his sleeping body alongside yours in the small camp bed, your arm still around him.

and when you tried to pull yourself away out of embarrassment, he pulled it back, keeping it over his chest.

“for warmth, yeah?” he said quietly, voice all deep and sleepy.

and how could you argue with that? these were trying times, after all.

after a moment's silence, he said “you’re a pretty thing, love. always thought so, even when i first met you and you were all scared and dirty.” he continued, heavy eyes looking down at your vulnerable form. “soap thinks so too, but you’re mine, yeah? i found you - you’re mine.”

there was something about the possessive glint in his eye that showed you he really meant it - his gaze trailing down from your face to your uncovered hips that had shuffled out the sheets in your sleep.

"cm'ere" he said, taking your arm in his grasp and pulling you towards him. "i mean it, love. do you wan' to be mine?" eyes watching your face to see how you'd react to his question. your faces were close now, closer than they'd ever been. he'd looked after you so nicely, giving you everything you needed, protecting you from harm all this time. you couldn't help but agree with him. how could anyone not fall for this attractive man who cared for you so much? and the feeling of his chest under your hand made you fall for him even harder.

"yeah," you whispered against his masked face "...yours."

your small hand reached up to reveal his lips under his mask. he pulled you in, kissing you softly. it was short but there was so much behind it. you could tell he wanted more but he was holding back. he didn't want to accidentally push you away by moving too fast. he pulled back to look at you, hands cupping your soft face, which was still clouded with sleep.

"you're so beautiful, you know that?" he spoke so softly now. it was like the walls he'd put up had fell instantly. he just wanted a moment to be yours. no one else's. not the camp's cook or the guard or the hunter. just yours and nothing else.

you pulled yourself back to his face, kissing him again but soon moving your lips down to kiss his chin, and then his neck. but you didn't get far before he stopped you.

"no, no, love. let me take care of you - you deserve it." he said, turning you around so you were on your back, head resting on your plush pillow as his touch relaxed you.

it was almost as if for just a moment, you weren't in the middle of a fucking nightmare. you were at home, in your own bed. maybe you'd met him at work or out on a date - anywhere that wasn't in a forest full of zombies. and he'd taken you out for dinner a few times and you'd decided he was sweet enough to be kissing down your body, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

but here you were, in a camp full of strangers, being transported by this man who you barely knew, covered only by the walls of a thin tent. but it just felt so right to let him take you like this. you trusted him with your life. and in return he worked your body like magic. his touch was so gentle - yet his skin was so rough compared to your own.

"you want me inside you, baby?" he spoke to you so softly, having kissed down to the top of your underwear now. his eyes watched you, waiting for your permission to carry on.

"please," you replied, "i want you."

that was all he needed to hear. he pulled off his shirt and your underwear, tossing them both to the side. he admired your body shamelessly, eyes tracing the outline of your waist and your body. you couldn't help but do the same, entranced by the way his muscles practically glowed in the light that came through the tent. he was built like a rugby player, pure muscle but with a good layer of fat on top to smooth everything out. you watched as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock.

he was huge. you knew he was a big guy but you weren't expecting it to apply to all of him. it was definitely bigger than anyone you'd ever been with. his tip was an angry shade of red from how hard he was, precum running down his shaft. noticing the expression on your face, he reassured you.

"don't worry, i'll be gentle with you."

he lined himself up with your entrance, your wetness being enough to allow himself to push slowly inside. it stretched you more than you ever had been, causing you to hiss as it dipped inside you. he bent forward down to kiss you sweetly, silencing your pained noises, shushing you each time his lips left yours. he continued to move in until he bottomed out inside of you.

"you okay?" he grunted, "tell me when to move, love."

you paused for a moment, adjusting to his size before nodding to let him know he could start moving.

he didn't fuck like you expected him to. you thought a guy like him would be railing you like an animal, but no. he made love to you, his slow but deep thrusts hitting all the perfect spots in your gummy walls. it was pure bliss, and he thought so too, struggling to keep back his grunts each time he thrust into you.

"fucckkkk baby," he'd say, dog tag hanging down as he fucked you, "your pussy is so tight, gripping me so good". he hooked your legs behind his back and moved his big hands onto your hips to hold you in place. " is it good for you too, doll? you look so pretty with that fucked-out look on your face." he went on, smirking at you like he was proud of his work.

you couldn't even form words, let alone piece together a decent response. he felt amazing, pulling all the way out so only his tip was inside of you and then pushing all the way back in again, until you were an absolute drooling mess, jaw slack and whining on his cock. and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he moved his hand between your legs and rubbed lazy circles on your clit with his thumb. almost instantly your pussy started pulsing around him - with you blubbering out incoherent swears and moans - having sent you completely over the edge in a matter of minutes. he wasn't far away either - your clenching making his hips stutter back and forth as he helped you ride through your orgasm. you could of swore you were seeing stars by the time he pulled out of you and came over your stomach with a moan, pressing his forehead to yours.

it took you both a few minutes to come back down again, giggling and kissing his lips once more. your arms found their way around his neck, holding him close to you. you were both a panting mess, clothes discarded across the tent floor and the scent of sex heavy in the air.

"my girl- you're gorgeous," he managed to huff out, catching his breath. " 'm never getting over you."

when news broke that a zombie apocalypse was spreading, you had no idea it would lead to this hunk of a man in bed with you - spoiling you and loving you like this. you weren't complaining, though. not at all. at least something good came from it.

he cleaned you up so carefully, being sure not to press too hard on your sensitive body. and when he'd made sure you were okay, he brought you something to eat and led down with you, stroking up and down on your back, drawing shapes and letters on your skin. part of you couldn't believe this was the same guy who you watched shoot a zombie in the face through the fence the other day. his hands were so gentle, always cautious not to hurt you under his touch.

and as your eyes grew heavy again, revelling in his embrace, you heard him say something into your skin.

"simon," he said quietly, face buried in your neck. "my real name's simon."