Capt. Miffy

You don’t lol. You can’t help but feel like a fake, some imposter. It was only a matter of time until someone found out, revealed who you truly are, and then you’d be all alone once again. 

It feels like there’s something rotten inside you, disgusting, churning. A wriggling of maggots, flys, and worms. You’re not sure what would be worse, if you were born broken or if the world shaped you into this. Insides necrosing faster than your outsides.

Prior to Griefer being cured he honestly doesn’t really care about you. Mind consumed by venomshank, all he wanted, all he craved was immortality, the cure for death. He wasn’t ready to let go of his father just yet. All he needs is just a bit longer… 

The poison that crawls and infects the fracturing connections of his skull, dragging itself all the way downwards, systemic infection. Though this poison had an antidote.

After choking down the special with as much ease as convincing a picky toddler to eat an onion things are back to normal for him… But now he notices something a little unusual. Or did you always act like that?

Growing up with older parents forced him to slow down, stopping to smell the roses. It wasn’t really his style though, always running amuck in the forest, his own personal playground with nothing or anything to stop him. No fear, no worry, because written somewhere in the twitching muscle in his head he knew his mom and dad would always catch him. 

You were different though. He could tell. Underneath that kindness, that appealing and approachable attitude was fear. It was too neat, like some packaged product, always trying to sell yourself to others, convince them you were worth keeping around.

So when he confronts you and asks you word for word, “Do you even like yourself?”, your lips have already started forming your confession. 

Once you complete your sacrament, he just looks at you. It scares you. You can't read his face, is he disgusted, disappointed, or despairing as much as you were. How were you supposed to act accordingly if he gave you nothing to work with?

As your instincts finally kick in, an apology starting to claw its way up your throat, he hugs you. 

Arms wrapped around you, cradling you tightly. Warm. He smells comforting, like a hot sunny day where you can’t help but grin up at the sun and laugh. Your head tucked into the connecting points between his neck and shoulder, and for once in a very long time it all clicks back into place.

Although you know Griefer would always support you and stand by you no matter what shape, personality, or changes you went through that fear of rejection, of not appealing to all. It still weeded itself in your heart, blocking all caveats to allow any new blood, or love. 

But Griefer wasn’t a quitter. 

Have a hobby or interest or whatever you're embarrassed of? Well, too bad, all the merch and goodies you could ever dream of are already waiting at the door. It’d be such a waste to leave it all sitting there, and don’t worry you can infodump whenever you pleased. He will be more than happy to have a little podcast whilst he streams him playing TC2. 

Any cons or meetups he’s bringing you to them. Don't worry if he can drive, his dad pays for his clipper so it’s practically free. He remembers the Green Goop tournament, leaving with more memories and friends than he came with, and he only wishes the same for you.

Also don’t think he didn’t pick up the way you tug on your shirt whenever you sit down, or seem to shrink into yourself trying to make yourself smaller, weaker. Although he has a bit of a leaner figure, he’s quite strong and fit, easily lifting you and tossing you about. If you want to be more like him, a couple hours running about the forest and playing the wildlife would do the trick. If not, don't worry the console in his hideout had two controllers for a reason. 

______________________________________________________________

…

Pain.

The licking away at delicate nerves, ligaments, and muscle. There’s no other way to describe it other than wrong. Any movement or slight twitches just feel wrong. 

There's a line that ties itself to your vein, it tries to grant you relief. More than anything though it’s a nagging itch that’s asking to be torn out. An IV drip. 

Taking in your surroundings, you’re somewhere new. 

An infirmary. That’s where you were, or at least you could assume.

Hands move to massage the formation of a dull ache finding home in the curve of the scalp. But your dominant hand stills, stopped by a shiny silver bracelet. Great. Well, at least one thing is for sure, you’re most definitely not in prison. Most likely transferred to a hospital, the guards couldn’t be bothered to put cuffs on you, especially if you were still stuck in that hell hole. Besides, the wall were the wrong col—

“You took quite the nasty fall back there.” 

Though the quick jump of your nervous system attempts to ready itself, all it does this time is grant a sharp stab to your ribs. A wheeze of pain falls from your lips. Embarrassing. 

“Don’t be dramatic, you're fine. Only a few cracked ribs, and a completely bruised back. But, I will say what you did back there was clever. They said you were the mastermind behind it all, that it was your plan.”

A sputtering of an excuse rips it way up your throat, but as the rambling flows from your mouth there’s nothing but pure boredom on the guard’s— mask? Was this the first time you actually looked up to see who you were talking to? You can feel it the way he smirks, or you think he does, happy you’re finally starting to grasp what the weight of the situation is.

“Look— I don't care, and I don't want to know. Whether you did plan it or not you were complicit. What I do care about is your resilience. You have some real grit to you, you know.”

His uniform is all wrong. The usual hardy, thick stained fabric that made noise with every move was now replaced with almost slick black camo, pattern hypnotic and shifting, and   something churns in your gut. It’s all pragmatic, not a single part of it feels unnecessary or individual. Military. 

A band clings tightly to the upper half of his arm. An insignia, not the usual one branded on the uniforms of the harsh hands of the prison. Upside down star, and an odd shaped crystal in the center, surrounded by swirling and twisting patterns, dragging you to the center. It’s captivating, dizzying. Who even was this? What even was this?  

“You don’t work here, do you?”

“How would you like a job?” 

______________________________________________________________

Acting electrician. 

That was your job, at least for the most part. Apparently, there was an “opening in the position”, and they needed to find a sucker that’d take the job with no questions asked.

It’s not like you had a choice anyways. The charges racked up for causing a riot, attempting to escape, and the sheer amount of property damage from the incident was enough to cause any mutt to heel.

A facility thousands of feet below the ocean, waiting. The light was impenetrable that deep, no evidence of what’s above, the closest thing to nothing one could get.  

The weight of it never really lets up. It digs into the straining flesh that protects your squish insides, all threatening to spill over. The constant pressure. A drive that forces boots to continue dragging themselves forward.

Your uniform, Prisoner Diving Gear, PDG, or rather the leash for ‘bad dogs’. Make it so they won’t bite, can’t bite. The head-splitting beeps, a ringing bell that made you heel. It was smart in a way, really, all you had to do was have the ever-looming threat of getting your brains painted on the cold concrete to get anyone to behave. 

Despite that you were better off than most. Bestowed the class of Middle Rank Prisoner. At least if you died it’d be in papers, be some sort of financial compensation to the connections that were long abandoned above, proof there was some ‘good’ from your existence down here. A little more incentive for you to be good. 

It was easy enough. They had given you basic training behind the mechanisms to a majority of the machines on the facility. How to repair the turrets to the internal defense system, which wires to cut, strip, and reconnect for the generators, what tools were needed to stop the pipes from bursting, and how to cut the electricity for when something decided to break and electrify the water.  

Though there was a bit of a positive down here, a friend, sorta. Navi, despite the backhanded comments the guards and other personnel had to say about her cold nature, was nice enough.

Maybe you were just starved of human interaction, that the one thing that was humanish, and wasn’t constantly trying to kill you you started to see as a friend. Coworker was probably the better term though. She wasn’t real, at least not in the same sense that you were. With how large the facility is, it was difficult to navigate, and even harder to find the things you had to repair. Navi would guide you to which rooms to go to, and what needed to be fixed. She was simply doing her job, just as you were, but regardless you appreciated her.

Though the journey was often long and arduous between jobs, most of the rooms you walked through were empty for the most part and had nothing to fix, or were just barely functional enough all you could really do was raid the room or trudge on forwards. There wasn’t much useful there to you, none of the documents shoved in drawers or spilling out from lockers had any use to you. Maybe a flashlight and a lighter, but you had already gotten a hand cranked flashlight and hadn’t had to use your lighter even once. 

Time feels like it moves differently down here. You can’t be sure what day it is, or even time, only moving from moment to moment.

“Currently there are no available jobs for you. Please take this time to prepare yourself in case any of the machinery is to no longer be in operation.” 

That’s strange. You weren’t the slowest worker, rather the only worker, and more often than not your responsibilities tended to pile up quickly. Between the anglers short circuiting the lights in the rooms, at worst breaking them, and having to constantly repair the generator so the internal tram could be used by both yourself, and other personnel there was always something to do. 

But you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You could simply use the time to wander around, relax, and actually rest for once. Maybe if you were lucky you could find a sea bunny room, and cuddle up to one of them, they were the closest thing you could find to a pillow. Though they tended to get a bit grabby. You’ve lost more flashlights than you could count. Though they always gave something in return, so at least it wasn’t all a loss. 

Once they even gave you half a pack of cigarettes, not like you even smoked, but the sentiment was nice. There was even a lucky one inside the pack. 

Feet quickly moved against the concrete, time seemed to move quicker when you didn’t have anywhere or anything to be. Soon enough the soft inviting alcove of red carpet, couches, and fluffy little bunnies greeted you. Laying down, the bunnies surround you, though they were most definitely more concerned with the contents of your pockets than anything else.

It’s nice. This is the first time you’ve gotten to relax since being down here. It was anyone's guess if being down here or stuck in prison was a worse fate, but at least here there was a semblance of drive. Something to keep you from stagnating, nipping at your heels and urging you to move forward, improve, continue. Even if you were losing yourself, instead of being a prisoner now you were a tool, something to be used and discarded when there was no longer a need for you. 

Something weighs heavy on your eyelids, the urge to be consumed by relaxation. It’d only be a couple minutes at most. You deserved it, after all your hard work and cleaning up after the expendables and monsters down here. Besides, Navi told you to prepare yourself for any future work you had to do, and if you wanted to perform the best you could you had to be well rested, no?

______________________________________________________________

…

There’s someone rummaging around through your pockets.

Something— slender, cold, sharp…

This, this isn’t a sea bunny. 

The quick motion of grabbing the thief proves futile once you feel something wrap around you. Pressure grasping at the entirety of your torso, huge, imposing. Which monster even was this? 

A quick flash of a yellow glow blinds you, overwhelming your sight. Blinking away your  blurry vision, you see it, or rather, him. 

Z-13, the previous electrician. He’s even larger than Navi had told you. His pale blue skin illuminated by the anglerfish light that sprouts from the soft locks of inky hair. 

“So you’re my replacement, huh?” The words rasped from his throat, reverberating in the air, your heart begging to break out of your ribs. Was this it? It’s a bit cliche, being killed by the person you replaced, though nobody ever liked a scab. 

Although you expect the quick crushing squeeze of a hand to come, and the cracking of ribs to finish you off, he slithers off with you in tow. The motion of it is odd, a bit nauseating but soothing, like the back and forth motion of a wave. 

“Where are you taking me?” You question, though the words come out more like a squeak, your lungs hitching with every breath.

“So it can talk. Well, Expendable, I have a proposition for you.” There’s something behind his words that throws you a bit off. He almost sounds desperate.

Turning a corner he takes you into a room. It’s deeper than you’ve ever gone into the facility. He ducks into a crevice in the wall. It’s a small room, a couple of servers line the wall, there’s a fenced off section. Entering inside there’s a computer. Though the screen is off, a black expansive void, no warmth of light coming through.

He gently places you down, right next to the computer. 

“Expendable, I need you to do me a favor and stop— turning on all the damn lights in the facility!” there’s a harsh slam of his fist against the desk.

“Do you have any idea how many times you’ve blown out fuse for him, and do you have any, any idea how hard it is to get my hand on them! Don’t even get me started on—” though he continues to rant, about how ‘shit’ of an electrician you are, and how his ‘dead grandmother could do a better job than you’ you can’t help but drift your attention elsewhere. 

The computer case is open, the system unit inside it looks normal, for the most part. But the stench of something bitter, almost like burning rubber, bites at your nose. You’re not sure what it is you’re looking for, not even half as sure what’s normal and abnormal. But your intuition guides you to a small piece. A fuse. The clear plastic is a bit darker than usual.

Digging through your breast pocket you find a fuse, always carrying spares if any of the generators decided it would be a great day to take up what you could assume would be days of your time. Quickly making work of what you got, you switch out the fuse. His hand quickly shoots out pinning yours to the desk. 

“What the hell do you think you’re—” 

Though his threat is interrupted by the computer hums to life, a little chime indicating the system was now operating. 

“Oh, hey Sebastian! What happened?” The voice is robotic, but the inflections and tone sounds human, similar to Navi but it lacks any callus. 

“Oh, nothing kid. Just give me one second while I talk to this… person.” 

Sebastian, as this AI called him, is quick to drag you off, scruffing you by the back of your uniform. 

The talk was more like instructions, being talked at rather than to. Continuing from this moment you were to no longer keep all the lights fixed in the facility as they tended to send a power surge when a large amount of them went out. Blowing a fuse to the computer, or Painter as you should call him now. In exchange for you now being a lazy bum, and not really doing your job Sebastian would jam your PDG. Granting you back a tiny bit of your autonomy, Navi and all other personnel would be none the wiser.

 ______________________________________________________________

Since that moment things have been different. 

You still do the jobs Navi sends you to, it’s nothing new, though now a lot more rooms are often ‘forgotten’ or left on the backburner in place of working on other things. Now that you’re on civil terms with the Painter and Sebastian, you visit them quite often, more so Painter than Sebastian.

Painter is fun to hangout with, he reminds you of the world above, what once used to be your reality. It’s nice playing with him, whether that be chess, checker, or even solitaire once. 

Sebastian is a bit more callused, rough, and hardened with you. 

After the amount of times you’ve forced him to go on a tirade, and raid the facility for any possible fuses from every nook and cranny that could possibly hold one, it’s no surprise he’s not the biggest fan of yours. It’s not like you tried to get into his good graces either, seeing how aggressive he could get with unruly expendable it was better not to test your luck. 

Especially at this moment. 

In trying to find more games to play with Painter, you go to Sebastian hoping he has a deck of cards, at least one of the expendables must’ve snuck something with them down here. Not like it’d be seeing any more use from them. 

Besides, you deserved it. Urbanshade suddenly started sending a mass amount of expendables at once, and you had to clean up after all of them. Between running back and forth between rooms, and you also having to deal with the sudden uptick of all the monsters actively it’d be nice to relax a bit.

Approaching Sebastian’s store, you wonder what you could possibly trade with him to get your hands on a deck of cards, assuming he had one. Nothing's for free, and he expected that most of all, maybe your half pack of cigarettes and lighters would do the trick, he did seem like the ty–

Crash!

The loud sound that rips through the air instinctively forces your legs to carry you to a locker, but no other sounds or signs indicate anything else is wrong. It came from inside Sebastian’s shop, maybe he just dropped something?

Ducking inside the vent to investigate your meet with a very much injured expendable, a smashed up flash beacon, Sebastian looming above with an irritated look upon his face.

“Get out!” he barks at the expendable laying on the floor, but they didn’t seem to know when to quit, reaching towards the flash beacon. Just wanting to see how far they could push, how far Sebastian was going to go. 

But you’re quicker, kicking the flash beacon behind Sebastian’s tail, out of reach, out of mind. 

“You, get out of here before I smash up all the generators.” It’s a hollow threat, if anything else you’d only hurt yourself, and the expendable will just have the short term pain in the ass of having to work through it and you’d have to actually go fix it. But it seems to be enough of a threat to turn their tail and run.

“Smash up the generators, and who exactly is going to fix that?” he huffs out in amusement, seemingly entertained by your considerations of a threat.

“Shut up…” Is all you can really measle out, not like you actually wanted to put him in a worse mood.  

The locks of hair upon his head are all askew, he’s panting a bit, and despite the blueish hue of his skin there’s the slight darkened bit of skin underneath his eyes. He’s run ragged by the looks of it, and considering most of the items in the shop are all easily obtainable he hasn’t been getting outside of his shop to look for any worth wild items. There’s still a twitch of irritation on his face.

A silence weighs down on the both of you. What were you supposed to say, hell what were you supposed to do? All you can really think of doing is giving him something, maybe that pack of cigarettes might lift his mood enough to play nice with you for a bit.

Digging the pack out of your pocket you look up at Sebastian, waving it up at him, an invitation. He’s quick to snatch it out of your hand, lighting it with the lighter that was tucked away in the pack. Managing to run through half of what remained in the box. 

He tries to hand you one though you’ve never been a fan of the vice. In turn he jerks his head, urging you to sit with him. Sitting at the junction of his tail he curls up where you sat, his body encircling yours. The orange embers burn softly, lighting up the softness of his face. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him relax. He always seemed on edge, as if he were running out of time, out of space, out of possible choices to make. 

His eyes flicker to yours, the corner of his lips twitches in catching you staring. Taking a drag of the cigarette he blows the smoke into your face, warm. It leaves a buzzing feeling in your chest.

“Thanks, for taking care of Painter. I… I really appreciate it.” the hum of his voice gently caresses your ears, the sensation warms your cheeks. Taking care of Painter, spending time with him, protecting him from expendables, and whatever else was no trouble. He gave your life a sense of normalcy, that something outside of the horrors that lurked behind every corner existed, something softer. 

You feel surrounded by warmth, completely submerged in it. Maybe it was the second-hand smoke, or maybe it was how close Sebastian was to you. But for once you felt safe, not since being down here, but since being incarcerated being forced to carry this punishment, one that was never yours to bear. 

Fandoms/Characters I take requests for:

COD

-Ghost

-Price

-Soap

-Gaz

Ghost is my fav, and I usually write for him. But the other 141 members I can try to write for, no promises it’ll be good tho 

Forsaken

-Noli

-Chance

-Guest 1337

-007n7

-Shedletsky/Telemon

-Elliot

I might write for the other characters,, but lowkey I dont really gaf enough abt them

Blocktales

-Griefer 

Pressure

-Sebastian 

-HQ Speaker guy (I like his voice.. its nice :3)

Monster x Mediator 

-NausaAxe_404

-Sir Knight

Minecraft (?)

-Knocker

Lol, get monkey pawed bozo. Noli was very mad once he realized the ‘followers’ the Spector had received was a measly ten people. He had expected a God with much more power than him would’ve amass a larger following than him. Though that doesn’t seem to be the Spector’s main focus. 

Before he achieved Godhood through the void star he was a simple, with a simple life. Nothing special, nothing traumatic, nothing. He was simply average. 

It was insanity. Everything felt the same, a twisting and turning pathway that folded in on itself, and he couldn’t quite remember which way he came from. If things weren’t going to change, he’d simply have to make it change.

He’s been a false god for a while, so he’s forgotten much about human inconveniences. So romancing him.. It’s a bit of a fight 

If he were to crave anything intimate or romance in the past he’d simply request one of his followers to do what he wanted, though that was rare in itself. Who needs a hug or sex when the cheers, and adoring eyes of those who looked upon the stage could satisfy any emotional or romantic cravings!! 

The only way to court him is to play cat and mouse with him, make him work for it, make him want what he can’t have. Hangout with him and be all buddy buddy during rounds, and then give him the cold shoulder during down time. It drives him up the walls!

The whole will-they-won’t-they push and pull results in him cornering during a round holding you up against the wall, first gripping your collar, feet dangling, yelling at you and asking you what’s wrong with you!!

Did you want him, did you not?! What is it you could possibly want!!

Quick cut y’all making out hard, and—

In your newly established relationship let’s say there are many,, quirks and traits to Noli..

Performative grooming.. Since Noli has been a God for quite awhile he hasn’t had to deal with the hassle that is personal hygiene, his body never craved attention or need, it was only his mind that did. So you will have to remind him that yes, showering, and brushing your teeth, and washing your face are important

And yes he will constantly whine about it, and how dare you make him shower!! It’s only been a couple days. You do end up showering with him, though whether y’all leave fully clean or not.. 

What ties into him not being familiar with a human body is also eating. He simply forgets to eat, since he hasn’t felt hunger in centuries!! Whenever he gets a bit foggy headed, dizzy, and just randomly seems to be in pain his brain does not flag it as hunger. You will need to remind him to eat.

Everytime you say something stupid, or funny he’s clipping it. He’s on fucking lock, and ready. You will be constantly spammed, and annoyed by it. If you’re a survivor.. He’s gonna be targeting just to play those clips. 

Despite all these traits, he genuinely loves you, in the best way he can. 

He’s very needy, clingy, and easily jealous. This is a man who got himself banished to hell for a bit more attention.. So please give him attention!!

Whenever he’s near you he’ll be as close to you as possible, always touching, and grabbing on you. Just needing to know you’re there. That you’ll stay with him, even if he gets too much. 

He tends to watch you alot, not really saying or commenting on things. Just watching you, and waiting for the outcome. Though he doesn’t verbalize it he’s taking notes in his head. Trying to see what makes you tic, what makes you human. He tries to copy it. If you run a certain way during rounds he’ll try it out, you do your nightly routine in the exact same way every night, oh would you look at that he also just so happens to do that as well. 

He’s completely enamored with you in every way shape and form. He was a god at one point, the epitome of perfection. So everything different about you he loves, it’s different, it’s unusual in the best way possible because it’s you. 

+18 hcs !!

What he loves most? Thighs and tummy, and body hair. Even when he was human he didn’t quite understand why people were often hung up about those things, it’s just more to love, and he’ll take whatever you’ll give him!!

If you ever shaved or waxed your bush,, don’t be so shocked when he bites the newly exposed flesh. He’s just painting the now barren and empty canvas, gotta cover you up somehow. 

With sex he’s quite vanilla. He doesn’t really enjoy receiving pleasure himself, as he doesn’t frequently get sexual urges or desires. But he loves making you happy, and knowing he is taking care of you. So much oral, and hand stuff.

On the very rare occasions he wants to have sex with you it’s usually after a very rough round, zero kills, consistently getting backstabbed, punched, and dazed by tripmines..    

It’s gonna be rough, expect blood to be drawn, your body to be painted head to toe in bite marks, and not being able to walk. But at least he’s fantastic at aftercare!!

Since he doesn’t frequently have sex, nor have much experience with it, anything you said will be duly noted and taken care of. Wanna have your favorite snack, oh would you look at that it’s already there paired with a glass of water and tylenol, wanna clean up a bit, the waters already drawn and at the perfect temp. 

Leave.

It wasn’t Simon’s favorite thing. It was a given. Long deployment and stations, it was only right for there to be a period of time for rest and recovery. Of course that wasn’t without work, there was still paperwork, training, meetings, and service to be done. Though the long stretches of time are what seemed to consume Simon. 

The moments inbetween. Spent waiting, watching. An itch that no matter how hard you scratch, rub, or bite only seems to worsen. Simon couldn’t stand the stillness. Being idol.

Though this rot was quickly cut off when an old friend had made a proposal. Sex work.

Now Simon knew he wasn’t ugly. He had a rugged kinda face, the one that made a certain type of crowd a bit dizzy in the head, and instilled that same insatiable hunger he felt. Shagged a couple of birds when the sameness of everyday became too much. 

Each hookup was an experience, a change in the monotony, of the endless drone that weighed heavy on the heart. A mission that could be simply executed and broken down, adjusting to the ever shifting environment.

Observing body language, noises, words, pacing, experimenting and testing. Seeing how each tic and twitch correlated. He’d been told he was good in bed.

If he were so good, and had nothing better to fill his days with other than the repetitive tasks that seemed to only fill halfway through his day, wouldn’t it be nice to have a couple of shags at night? ‘Sides the extra zeros in his bank account wouldn’t do any harm.

So he did. During particular long leaves he’d take care of his typical tasks, training rookies, filling paperwork, exercising, attending meetings. But when the sun had set. A different type of ghost would come out to play.

It was simple. Get paid, meet the client, satisfy their needs. There was the house rule, one client, one night. Although this was sex work the appeal to look refined and clean was there. This wasn't some simple work on the street. Each night a different client.

Some experienced clients, familiar with the pleasures of a nice fuck, others stepping outside their vows, people with too much money and power that they couldn’t help but abuse.

As always, it was another night. Simon had gotten notified to get ready, another client would be coming round in a few hours. So as always he went through his routine. There was no special instructions or preparations required, so his typical routine would do. Scolding hot shower, cleaning up the stubble on his scarred face, rinse of the face and a quick brush of his teeth, with the drying of his slightly overgrown buzzcut and he was ready.

When you had walked into the room Simon could already tell you weren’t his typical cliental. Although you were dressed to the nines, you were a bit flush face, down a couple of shots. It wasn’t unsurprising, vices did tend to run together.

What was surprising was the demeanor you took on. The tightness within your gait, twitching in your hands, and the stickiness that clung to your body. Nervous.

The couple of downed shots seemed to be more of liquid confidence, rather than pure inebriation. 

Presumably a bumbling virgin? It wasn’t uncommon, though the crowd made a small percentage of his audience, though usually there was a bit more of nervous anticipation than… This.

Once you had spoken the confusion was cleared. It was your birthday, caught up in the celebrations and festivities, friends had made the choice to drop quite a bit of money to end the night with a ‘bang’.

Though it was clear you were a part of the choice. You weren’t really comfortable with the idea, but with the money already spent and the time already set, and could he please just let the illusion of their night spent together exist.

All Simon could do was nod. It wasn’t like you were violating any of the house rules, nor his own personal ones. Regardless of whether or not he actually bed you wasn’t really his concern, this job was simply for fun. Fill the space that would be usually spent sat at the telly watching footie with another microwave meal that’d leave him feeling sick at night.

Laying back and crossing his arms behind his head, he lay there. Mapping of scars across the expanse of his chest, forearm decorated with art with familiarity to battle. Relaxed.

Unknowingly you stood awkwardly. You had expected at least a little pushback, though someone would mostly get in trouble. So you stood, and observed, a watcher, taking in the sight of the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

Though the soft gruff of the man breaks you illusion.

‘What— you gonna stand there gawking for the rest of the hour? Lay down birdie. I dont bite.’

With the gentle nudge, you do lay down. A breath of space between you. Desires bubbling up inside you. The call of your heart. To close the gap. Itching to be seen and heard.

‘Can we cuddle? Please. It’s okay, if not though..’ a hesitantacy laces your voice, give yourself enough of an out to shield yourself from the harshness of not being desirable, wanted. 

Simon was taken aback, although it was standard for all the workers to do aleast a bit of aftercare, cuddling certainly wasn’t a part of the package. 

Maybe, a cuddlefuck, though nobody asked for that. Everyone wanted something carnal, rough, and mean. 

You were certainly something interesting. Unusual. So how could he ever deny you?

Saddling behind your back, arm wrapping around your waist, leg slipped between your.

And then you couldn’t stop.

A quite innocuous question about if he’d like to hear about your day. 

One nod and you couldn’t stop talking.

Regaling about how your birthday was so far, how you felt about previous birthdays and the day as a whole, your outfit, how long it took to get ready. Eventually, your rambling pattered off splintering into your hobbies, job, daily thoughts. Quite literally everything underneath the sun. 

Although Simon tried to focus on your word, be engaged, and at least give a grunt of a response or sharp nod. All he could focus on was the strain in his pants. 

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