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roald dahl was antisemitic and misogynistic. george orwell was openly homophobic. edgar allan poe married his 13 year old cousin. dr seuss cheated on his wife (and was racist as well as antisemitic!). hp lovecraft was racist as fuck.
anyways theyâre fucking dead itâs not like youâre enabling their behaviors in the afterlife or something. then again I think they bleed into the books so uh keep an eye out for that
the difference between these old white guys and jk rowling is that the former group is all dead. jk rowling is alive and using your money to oppress trans people
Im back, hehe, and pt. 6 will be out soon and by soon I mean when I feel like proofreading it :) this is their meeting and how they got together :> (Cw: cussing, vague mentions of sex and Simonâs an idiot)
Meeting you was easy. Knowing you got easier, but leaving you was easier than Simon would have liked. Easy like he was setting himself up, like he was simply a pawn in someone elseâs story. Something he wouldnât have minded if his maker hadnât given him so many fucking feelings. Things heâd rather not have. Especially when you came around.
He felt like he couldnât breathe around you, drowning in your scent, and your chocolate glazed eyes, and that damned accent he couldnât get out of his mind. He couldnât stand you, or how you made him feel. He hated it.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
It started in an arcade. Not very Simon, I know. But Soap and Gaz had begged Price to go. They needed to blow off some steam with friendly competition; and what better way to do that than to play laser tag? Luckily, they could go in as a group, making sure other poor and unfortunate souls are not a victim of their military expertise. Ghost had to tag along, so now theyâre here, waiting for the previous group to come out.
And they did. You did. You squealed, exiting the laser tag setup, getting the highest score on your team- to which you bragged about. Your shrill excitement turned heads, including Simonâs. You danced happily, sticking your tongue out- at what he assumed was family or friends- not caring for the eyes on you. You were happy and were going to express it without shame.
Caught up in your victory, you effectively changed the course of your life for what you know it is now. Stumbling into Simon, who was still waiting in line with Kyle and Johnny. You turned around, apologies ready to fall from your lips before suddenly you felt them dry, your throat falling in suit as you looked up to the much larger man.
It was something he was used to, but that didnât mean it didnât hurt his feelings from time to time. Imagine going out of your way, risking your life to save people, and when you carry them out of that burning building, theyâre screaming. Not because they could have just died, but because the man carrying them looked a little scary. Most of the time it was just annoying, still, it dampened his mood a bit any time someone laid their eyes on him. Itâs not like he tries to scare people (sometimes he does)- itâs just their first reaction to him, which he figures he canât help.
But what does catch him off guard is your sudden smile. You smiled up at him after your moment of hesitance before wishing him luck, yes, him, luck. The big scary man that made you practically tremble in your own skin just by looking at him. Then, you trailed off to your friends as if you hadnât made his stomach flip and twist. His irritation only increased.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
The food court was bright, the many lights illuminating anything unfortunate enough to cross in its path. If Johnny had anything to say, heâd probably go on about how his lieutenant was the opposite of this food court: All dark and brooding and the like. Never wanting to be illuminated by the lights, a stark contrast to the linoleum floors that seemed to soak up the bright light like it was a starving plant awaiting the grace of its oh so sacred Sun.
The food court was inviting, smelled good, and provided all the food you could ever want. Simon, on the other hand- besides smelling good occasionally- had nothing in common with this food court. Then he saw you again. Something he would consider akin to the food court. Bright and shining like a fluorescent light. Nothing he wanted to be around. He had gotten a considerable amount of your scent the first time you met. It was nothing short of sweet and overpowering. He hated it. How could he ever associate with something as bright as you? As sweet and caring as you?
He didnât have to know you personally to know that you were all those things. Didnât even think twice about his assumptions. But Simon just wanted to get on with his day. Get on and forget about that unfortunate interaction with you.
Then, you had the audacity to run into him again. Stumbling this time- he corrects in his head. Though, corrections didnât matter as your cup collided with his chest with you. Your cup, filled to the brim with a slushy he could only assume was just as sweet as your stupid smile.
Simon had come out to the food court to have a relaxing meal with his closest buddies. That was what was in the plans with him today, no matter how reluctant he may have been in the beginning. The promise of food always made him get up and out wherever he was needed. Even if that meant an arcade. But now, all the fun he had was slowly depleting more and more the longer you stayed in his bubble. Too close, too much, too much-
âSorry, sorry.â You frown sincerely, quickly fumbling for the napkins in your bag. Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a hot steak knife through butter. Quick and precise. Now your hands were on his chest, and he felt his mind go blank. As much as the dark space that controlled him could.
âDidnât mean to.â You frown sincerely, offering to buy him another shirt. By this time, he still had yet to say anything. Nothing could be said as you continued to palm at his body, the heat from your hands soaking into his own skin. How did anyone expect him to think in these conditions?
His silence finally made you look up. He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, almost questioning- amused if you will- as you looked up at him embarrassed. Flustered if he would.
âSorry.â You mumble again, suddenly feeling smaller with his eyes on you. âIâll buy you another shirt.â You offer again, the words struggling to come out.
âNo need.â He simply says, hoping to shrug you off.
What was that sound? It sounded as if Simon was being.. gentle with you. Kind. He should be mad. You ruined his shirt. So, why wasnât he?
âPlease? Iâve inconvenienced you twice now.â You basically plead, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to be dipped in chocolate, once, twice, three times before your maker seemed satisfied, adding just a hint of gold to the center- as if the melted swirls of his favorite sweets hadnât been enough- before moving to sculpt the rest of your body. Jesus. He needed Jesus right about now.
Needed him to advert his gaze before he had to claw his own eyes out in sin. Needed him so he could have the strength to walk away instead of inhaling that sickly sweet smell that belonged to you, and you alone. Needed him to keep his hands off you before he had to get Johnny to detach them himself because- Jesus fucking Christ.
Simon never had a woman beg to buy him something. To fix something of his. Whether it was their fault or not. Women- the ever-entitled creatures- were simply a mystery to the enigma of a man himself. He couldnât understand why you or anyone, would go out of their way to help a broken man like him. Ghost still had pieces to pick up and would be damned if anyone got cut trying to help him. Simon could handle it. Ghost could handle this; Simon could handle you.
So, then how did he end up staring at shirts of his size as you stood next to him watching his reactions? Johnny or even Kyle would have the same question if he hadnât snuck off with you. It felt weird. Like really weird. Like sneaking-out-of-the-house-at-fifteen- weird. Like he could caught, a deer in a truckâs headlights.
He let you talk his ear off while buying him another shirt- much to his dismay.
Thatâs where it started. A fucking clothing shop.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Eventually, he started to fit you into his schedule. On the days he barely had off, he wanted to be with you. As sappy as it sounded, thatâs the truth. His truth anyway.
No one on the team knew where he disappeared to on his leaves. They all assumed that he was rotting in bed or something, stuck in the four walls of his flat. Something like that would have been true had you not come along. He might as well have been stuck ordering something from DoorDash because he hadnât eaten in- how many days had it been? Instead of out with you, enjoying places around his flat he didnât know existed. Maybe he would have been stuck lying in bed, trying to sleep, trying to shut off his mind before you came along. Now, heâs stuck watching your sappy movies. And he wouldnât change a goddamn thing. He liked the quiet like this. He liked your quiet. He liked⊠his time spent with you. Nothing more.
Liking was a stretch, now that he thinks about it. He⊠tolerated your loud laughs and toothy smiles. The same way he tolerated the MREâs he was forced to eat. The way he tolerated Johnnyâs loudness. Nothing more, nothing less.
His tolerance is how he finds himself on your couch. Watching another sappy movie. The Notebook. He wouldnât be caught dead watching a movie like this, but he guesses itâs okay if itâs in the comfort of your home and in your four walls.
âThis movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid.â He says halfway through the movie.
âThis movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley? Theyâre allowed to be a little stupid.â You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided itâd be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at allâŠ
âItâs dumb. What the fuck is âsummer loveâ? Itâs dumb.â He continues.
âItâs the cutest thing ever!â you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.
He rolls his eyes. âYouâre the cutest thing ever.â He mumbles before he can stop the flood of words. He refuses to look over at you as he hears the crunch of popcorn in your mouth cease. He can feel your eyes on him and for once in a long time, he sweats.
He would blame his words and rosy cheeks on the alcohol if everyone didnât know he could hold his liquor. There was no getting out of this, so he cleared his throat, taking another sip of the brown liquid that repulsed you the first time he got you to finally try it.
âWhat?â You finally ask, popcorn still on your lap.
ââŠ..â
âSimon.â You prod, sitting up all the way. You had been laying on his shoulder as you watched the movie. Something you usually did when movie night started. He never pushed you away yet never pulled you closer. You werenât sure where you stood with him. Well, until now, because apparently you were the cutest thing ever to him.
âSlip of the tongue.â He says, hoping you might believe him, but knowing you wonât.
It dampens your mood a little, because maybe you were hoping it wasnât.
âOh.â You say in a small voice, resting back on his shoulder, trying to quell the ache in your stomach. Fill the hole that was forming the more you stared at Allie and Noah kissing for the nth time.
Simon thought about it for no more than 10 seconds before turning and pressing his lips to yours. His hand holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were stupid enough to believe him, how could he not? He was used to having to spell things out for you, this was no different. Even if it changed the course of the otherwise friendly relationship he had with you.
He was a cruel and calculated man; he didnât act on a whim or irrationally. Rational was the best course of action in his opinion. Acting was one of the few things he stood by. Being blunt was the only way to get the best results. No one could give you what you want unless you told them explicitly. He wasnât a mind reader, and he didnât expect anyone else to be.
Simon did, however, expect everyone to have at least a little bit of common sense. You seemed to be lacking in both departments at times. Always talking in parables or hinting at things you wanted but never asking for them. You made him wrack his brain for solutions you could have simply told him. He didnât know why he never complained until now. He fucking liked you.
He pulled away after a moment, hoping that helped to clear up any confusion in your pretty little head.
He tried to pull away anyway, only to be pulled closer as you grabbed onto his shirt. You pressed your lips back to his. He let you climb on top, sitting in his lap as he melted into your lips and you into his. It was mutual. The fucking feeling was mutual. After a moment, you both let out a sigh. It was a sigh of relief, not that either of you knew that.
You thought he might regret it after, but he cleared those thoughts away quickly, picking you up and carrying you to your room. Your back against a few walls before he finally laid you onto your bed because fuck were you needy.
Noah and Allie were left alone to carry out the rest of their love story while you focused on carrying out yours. You may or may not have been crushing on the brooding giant way before the movie night.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Ghost tormented Simon any time he could. Calling him weak and gullible. An idiot. Only idiots fall in love. How could you not have noticed this? How could Simon not have noticed your hesitance? You obviously didnât feel the same, not when you had to think twice about him. He wasnât your first choice. Ghost made that much clear to Simon. Simon was never anyoneâs first choice and would never be. Why should you be any different?
Simon laid awake on your bed, sweat still beading down his pale skin. A stark contrast to the body next to his. In fact, Simon couldnât be more different from you. You were warm, inviting, soft. He was cold, cruel, and harsh around every edge that made him up. You were everything he wasnât. Simon rationalized that you were his other half, Ghost said that you werenât made for him. Ghost didnât need anyone, and Simon believed that no one needed him. So, why would you?
He turned over, looking at you blankly. He watched you sleep soundlessly, glowering down at you after watching your features for too long. Your soft kisses, soft touches, soft looks⊠they werenât for him. They were for someone who deserved you. Someone that wasnât him. He wasnât the man you thought he was, and you didnât deserve to be deceived like this. You were too soft, didnât fit into his world. The one that was filled with violence, gun smoke, and death. Nothing suitable for you. His life wasnât hospitable for anyone but him. His fucking mind wasnât habitable. You deserved at least that much.
Or maybe he was scared he didnât fit into your world.
So, he left. One of the few things he was good at. One of few things he did regularly that didnât end up killing anyone. Sure, your feelings might be hurt for a while, but youâd get over him. He never stayed long enough to develop feelings, so you shouldnât be hurt too bad. Right?
He left, leaving you to wake up alone in the morning. Thinking of the night just before when he kissed you like you meant the world to him, like he needed you to function.
Calls and texts werenât returned. âRadio silenceâ you thought to yourself with a bitter laugh. You knew what he did for a job. You knew what you were getting into, but your dumb, idiot brain didnât care. He didnât understand. His brain couldnât comprehend why you liked him. He just couldnât.
Each day that passed got harder and harder for you. You missed him, and his smell, and his dumb jokes, and his warmth, and everything about that brooding man. You called and texted him again. Once more for the sake of it.
âSimon, I know what happened was an accident, and im sorry for taking it too far. I just wanted to say that I missed our movie nights and was hoping you might come back for at least one more. Again, Iâm sorry that I ruined it. I loved having you as a friend and hope I can make it up to you in the future.â
You sent the desperate text, hoping for a response before turning your phone off. You cried into your pillow once more before falling asleep.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
You had nightmares for weeks before finally having dreams again. You mourned a loss you didnât think that youâd ever have to go through.
You slept through another night, holding your pillow tighter as if it might randomly morph into Simon again. He used to be your cuddle buddy when he was on leave. Saying his apartment was too quiet, cold, lonely and you didnât have a spare room, and the couch was too small, and Simon would never let you sleep on the couch in your own home. Thus, you had a cuddle buddy, and Simon could finally sleep through night.
You woke up in a cold sweat, the thunder beating down on your worn roof. You made your way to the kitchen, getting some water to quench your thirst and hoping to quell the ache still in your gnawing at your heart. You had given up on the man you loved enough to give yourself to, and now you had to forget about him. Or get over him at the least.
The lightening continued to rage on outside, thunder following in step not too long after. The thunder seemed to get louder and louder, beating down on your walls and roof and⊠door?
You make your way down the hall, the living room passing in quiet melancholy. The lone couch you havenât had the heart to sit on again in months, the bare coffee table you couldnât bear to look at anymore because if you looked close enough, you could still see Simonâs bourbon cup there. Lonely and waiting to be finished. The one you picked out just for him for movie night. The carpet that your cat still napped on, most likely also clinging to Simonâs smell. The one jacket you were able to keep of Simonâs was still around your body, dropping down to your knees as you continued to walk.
You finally get to the door, looking up into the peephole. There wasnât much to see though, the rain and wind obscuring your view. You took your chances and opened the door.
You stood face to face with a drenched man, covered in black and rainwater- like he had walked in the rain to your door. You were confused until he looked up, his head previously hanging low. His usually piercing blue eyes looked sad and drained, looking at you as though coming to you took everything out of him. And in a way, it did.
Though now, as he stood in front of you- watching you intently, taking in all the details of your face that he missed while he was gone- he wanted to breathe you in, he wanted to drown in your sickly, sweet smell and fall into the dark depths of your chocolate brown eyes and wanted to get lost in that accent of yours, laugh at the way your urn, earn, and Aaron all sounded the same. He couldnât stand the way you made him feel, so vulnerable and so very open. But right now? He loved it, he needed it, and he couldnât deny anymore that he fucking loved you.
"This movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid." He says halfway through the movie.
"This movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley?
They're allowed to be a little stupid." You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided it'd be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at all...
"It's dumb. What the fuck is 'summer love'? It's dumb." He continues.
"It's the cutest thing ever!" you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.
He rolls his eyes. "You're the cutest thing ever."
Sleepy time with Simon because I can đ€š Iâm rewatching Bridgerton so ofc reader is dragging Simon to watch it with them
Spoilers possibly so yeah
ââââââ
Dragging someone somewhere who does not want to go is hard enough as it is. But when itâs a 300 something pound, grouchy neighbor, who would really rather notâŠ. Things get a little more complicated.
More complicated in a way that has you cooking over a hot stove for over an hour just to prepare thee dish to keep him sat on your couch for the binge marathon.
â4 seasons?â
âYep,â you call from the kitchen as he busied himself with getting the show up and running.
âAnd youâve already watched it..?â
âYep,â you call again, finally getting some reprieve while you plate the two dishes.
âAnd youâre willingly watching it again?â
âYes. Now what is with all the questions?â You exasperate, setting the food down on your coffee table.
âItâs just. Odd. But I suppose thatâs the norm for youâŠâ
âI feel like thatâs a paradox.â
âââ
You find yourself with a full belly cuddled up to Simon. He had protested at first of course, saying he needed space while he ate, before giving in when you offered to bake him something in the morning before he went off to wherever he does when he works.
âYou know heâs lying about not being able to give her kids right? Bloody idiot is edging himself for no reason.â
âI do know how kids are born, yes. But you saw his backstory.â
âThatâs daft if he really loves herâ this show is infuriating.â
You just laugh, passing him the tub of ice cream that has become more than a bit melted by now.
â
âTheyâre clearly in love! Is Edwina daft?!â
âSimon, itâs just a show,â you giggle, watching as Anthony and Kate give each other looks again.
âThis is stupid.â
âItâs an enemies to lovers.â
âA what to what? Is this an actual thing??â
-
âI still think Anthony shouldâve gotten with Edwina. Because now the Queen of bloody England is upset.â
âShhh itâs for plot.â
âAnd do we ever find out who Whistledown is, fOr pLoT?â
âShhhh.â
â
Somehow, through the hours of the night, youâve found yourself perched in his lap; abandoning the second spoon for the ice cream and having taken the liberty to feed each other.
âThis show is very horny.â
âI mean, itâs based off books, so Iâm not surprised.â
âI bet the books are better, this show is⊠not good.â
âWhat? This is a cinematic masterpiece.â
âThe Great Gatsby, is cinema. Not horny idiots in love.â
You only roll your eyes, eating another spoonful of ice cream before offering him some. He barely leans forward to take it, eyes glued to the screen.
âââ
Youâre half asleep before the third season starts, curled up in his arms while heâs still focused on the tv. He does clean up a bit before sitting back on the couch to start the next season.
Simon takes a moment to look you over: completely out with a strawberry themed blanket tucked closely around you.
Heâs subtle with his pokes until you wake up, tv still playing, though somehow quieter.
âOh, did I fall asleep?â
âBarely, drifted away from me,â he answers, gesturing at the amount of space between the two of you.
You nod, clearly drowsy, before scooting back into his side.
One of his arms wraps around you, pulling you to him firmly. Youâre out again in seconds, head on his shoulder.
Heâd be more focused on that had not Penelope just entered the ball with a new dress?
ââââââ
:)) he def asks the 141 if theyâve ever watched Bridgerton and they all look at him like heâs crazy
Im back, hehe, and pt. 6 will be out soon and by soon I mean when I feel like proofreading it :) this is their meeting and how they got together :> (Cw: cussing, vague mentions of sex and Simonâs an idiot)
Meeting you was easy. Knowing you got easier, but leaving you was easier than Simon would have liked. Easy like he was setting himself up, like he was simply a pawn in someone elseâs story. Something he wouldnât have minded if his maker hadnât given him so many fucking feelings. Things heâd rather not have. Especially when you came around.
He felt like he couldnât breathe around you, drowning in your scent, and your chocolate glazed eyes, and that damned accent he couldnât get out of his mind. He couldnât stand you, or how you made him feel. He hated it.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
It started in an arcade. Not very Simon, I know. But Soap and Gaz had begged Price to go. They needed to blow off some steam with friendly competition; and what better way to do that than to play laser tag? Luckily, they could go in as a group, making sure other poor and unfortunate souls are not a victim of their military expertise. Ghost had to tag along, so now theyâre here, waiting for the previous group to come out.
And they did. You did. You squealed, exiting the laser tag setup, getting the highest score on your team- to which you bragged about. Your shrill excitement turned heads, including Simonâs. You danced happily, sticking your tongue out- at what he assumed was family or friends- not caring for the eyes on you. You were happy and were going to express it without shame.
Caught up in your victory, you effectively changed the course of your life for what you know it is now. Stumbling into Simon, who was still waiting in line with Kyle and Johnny. You turned around, apologies ready to fall from your lips before suddenly you felt them dry, your throat falling in suit as you looked up to the much larger man.
It was something he was used to, but that didnât mean it didnât hurt his feelings from time to time. Imagine going out of your way, risking your life to save people, and when you carry them out of that burning building, theyâre screaming. Not because they could have just died, but because the man carrying them looked a little scary. Most of the time it was just annoying, still, it dampened his mood a bit any time someone laid their eyes on him. Itâs not like he tries to scare people (sometimes he does)- itâs just their first reaction to him, which he figures he canât help.
But what does catch him off guard is your sudden smile. You smiled up at him after your moment of hesitance before wishing him luck, yes, him, luck. The big scary man that made you practically tremble in your own skin just by looking at him. Then, you trailed off to your friends as if you hadnât made his stomach flip and twist. His irritation only increased.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
The food court was bright, the many lights illuminating anything unfortunate enough to cross in its path. If Johnny had anything to say, heâd probably go on about how his lieutenant was the opposite of this food court: All dark and brooding and the like. Never wanting to be illuminated by the lights, a stark contrast to the linoleum floors that seemed to soak up the bright light like it was a starving plant awaiting the grace of its oh so sacred Sun.
The food court was inviting, smelled good, and provided all the food you could ever want. Simon, on the other hand- besides smelling good occasionally- had nothing in common with this food court. Then he saw you again. Something he would consider akin to the food court. Bright and shining like a fluorescent light. Nothing he wanted to be around. He had gotten a considerable amount of your scent the first time you met. It was nothing short of sweet and overpowering. He hated it. How could he ever associate with something as bright as you? As sweet and caring as you?
He didnât have to know you personally to know that you were all those things. Didnât even think twice about his assumptions. But Simon just wanted to get on with his day. Get on and forget about that unfortunate interaction with you.
Then, you had the audacity to run into him again. Stumbling this time- he corrects in his head. Though, corrections didnât matter as your cup collided with his chest with you. Your cup, filled to the brim with a slushy he could only assume was just as sweet as your stupid smile.
Simon had come out to the food court to have a relaxing meal with his closest buddies. That was what was in the plans with him today, no matter how reluctant he may have been in the beginning. The promise of food always made him get up and out wherever he was needed. Even if that meant an arcade. But now, all the fun he had was slowly depleting more and more the longer you stayed in his bubble. Too close, too much, too much-
âSorry, sorry.â You frown sincerely, quickly fumbling for the napkins in your bag. Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a hot steak knife through butter. Quick and precise. Now your hands were on his chest, and he felt his mind go blank. As much as the dark space that controlled him could.
âDidnât mean to.â You frown sincerely, offering to buy him another shirt. By this time, he still had yet to say anything. Nothing could be said as you continued to palm at his body, the heat from your hands soaking into his own skin. How did anyone expect him to think in these conditions?
His silence finally made you look up. He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, almost questioning- amused if you will- as you looked up at him embarrassed. Flustered if he would.
âSorry.â You mumble again, suddenly feeling smaller with his eyes on you. âIâll buy you another shirt.â You offer again, the words struggling to come out.
âNo need.â He simply says, hoping to shrug you off.
What was that sound? It sounded as if Simon was being.. gentle with you. Kind. He should be mad. You ruined his shirt. So, why wasnât he?
âPlease? Iâve inconvenienced you twice now.â You basically plead, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to be dipped in chocolate, once, twice, three times before your maker seemed satisfied, adding just a hint of gold to the center- as if the melted swirls of his favorite sweets hadnât been enough- before moving to sculpt the rest of your body. Jesus. He needed Jesus right about now.
Needed him to advert his gaze before he had to claw his own eyes out in sin. Needed him so he could have the strength to walk away instead of inhaling that sickly sweet smell that belonged to you, and you alone. Needed him to keep his hands off you before he had to get Johnny to detach them himself because- Jesus fucking Christ.
Simon never had a woman beg to buy him something. To fix something of his. Whether it was their fault or not. Women- the ever-entitled creatures- were simply a mystery to the enigma of a man himself. He couldnât understand why you or anyone, would go out of their way to help a broken man like him. Ghost still had pieces to pick up and would be damned if anyone got cut trying to help him. Simon could handle it. Ghost could handle this; Simon could handle you.
So, then how did he end up staring at shirts of his size as you stood next to him watching his reactions? Johnny or even Kyle would have the same question if he hadnât snuck off with you. It felt weird. Like really weird. Like sneaking-out-of-the-house-at-fifteen- weird. Like he could caught, a deer in a truckâs headlights.
He let you talk his ear off while buying him another shirt- much to his dismay.
Thatâs where it started. A fucking clothing shop.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Eventually, he started to fit you into his schedule. On the days he barely had off, he wanted to be with you. As sappy as it sounded, thatâs the truth. His truth anyway.
No one on the team knew where he disappeared to on his leaves. They all assumed that he was rotting in bed or something, stuck in the four walls of his flat. Something like that would have been true had you not come along. He might as well have been stuck ordering something from DoorDash because he hadnât eaten in- how many days had it been? Instead of out with you, enjoying places around his flat he didnât know existed. Maybe he would have been stuck lying in bed, trying to sleep, trying to shut off his mind before you came along. Now, heâs stuck watching your sappy movies. And he wouldnât change a goddamn thing. He liked the quiet like this. He liked your quiet. He liked⊠his time spent with you. Nothing more.
Liking was a stretch, now that he thinks about it. He⊠tolerated your loud laughs and toothy smiles. The same way he tolerated the MREâs he was forced to eat. The way he tolerated Johnnyâs loudness. Nothing more, nothing less.
His tolerance is how he finds himself on your couch. Watching another sappy movie. The Notebook. He wouldnât be caught dead watching a movie like this, but he guesses itâs okay if itâs in the comfort of your home and in your four walls.
âThis movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid.â He says halfway through the movie.
âThis movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley? Theyâre allowed to be a little stupid.â You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided itâd be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at allâŠ
âItâs dumb. What the fuck is âsummer loveâ? Itâs dumb.â He continues.
âItâs the cutest thing ever!â you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.
He rolls his eyes. âYouâre the cutest thing ever.â He mumbles before he can stop the flood of words. He refuses to look over at you as he hears the crunch of popcorn in your mouth cease. He can feel your eyes on him and for once in a long time, he sweats.
He would blame his words and rosy cheeks on the alcohol if everyone didnât know he could hold his liquor. There was no getting out of this, so he cleared his throat, taking another sip of the brown liquid that repulsed you the first time he got you to finally try it.
âWhat?â You finally ask, popcorn still on your lap.
ââŠ..â
âSimon.â You prod, sitting up all the way. You had been laying on his shoulder as you watched the movie. Something you usually did when movie night started. He never pushed you away yet never pulled you closer. You werenât sure where you stood with him. Well, until now, because apparently you were the cutest thing ever to him.
âSlip of the tongue.â He says, hoping you might believe him, but knowing you wonât.
It dampens your mood a little, because maybe you were hoping it wasnât.
âOh.â You say in a small voice, resting back on his shoulder, trying to quell the ache in your stomach. Fill the hole that was forming the more you stared at Allie and Noah kissing for the nth time.
Simon thought about it for no more than 10 seconds before turning and pressing his lips to yours. His hand holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were stupid enough to believe him, how could he not? He was used to having to spell things out for you, this was no different. Even if it changed the course of the otherwise friendly relationship he had with you.
He was a cruel and calculated man; he didnât act on a whim or irrationally. Rational was the best course of action in his opinion. Acting was one of the few things he stood by. Being blunt was the only way to get the best results. No one could give you what you want unless you told them explicitly. He wasnât a mind reader, and he didnât expect anyone else to be.
Simon did, however, expect everyone to have at least a little bit of common sense. You seemed to be lacking in both departments at times. Always talking in parables or hinting at things you wanted but never asking for them. You made him wrack his brain for solutions you could have simply told him. He didnât know why he never complained until now. He fucking liked you.
He pulled away after a moment, hoping that helped to clear up any confusion in your pretty little head.
He tried to pull away anyway, only to be pulled closer as you grabbed onto his shirt. You pressed your lips back to his. He let you climb on top, sitting in his lap as he melted into your lips and you into his. It was mutual. The fucking feeling was mutual. After a moment, you both let out a sigh. It was a sigh of relief, not that either of you knew that.
You thought he might regret it after, but he cleared those thoughts away quickly, picking you up and carrying you to your room. Your back against a few walls before he finally laid you onto your bed because fuck were you needy.
Noah and Allie were left alone to carry out the rest of their love story while you focused on carrying out yours. You may or may not have been crushing on the brooding giant way before the movie night.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Ghost tormented Simon any time he could. Calling him weak and gullible. An idiot. Only idiots fall in love. How could you not have noticed this? How could Simon not have noticed your hesitance? You obviously didnât feel the same, not when you had to think twice about him. He wasnât your first choice. Ghost made that much clear to Simon. Simon was never anyoneâs first choice and would never be. Why should you be any different?
Simon laid awake on your bed, sweat still beading down his pale skin. A stark contrast to the body next to his. In fact, Simon couldnât be more different from you. You were warm, inviting, soft. He was cold, cruel, and harsh around every edge that made him up. You were everything he wasnât. Simon rationalized that you were his other half, Ghost said that you werenât made for him. Ghost didnât need anyone, and Simon believed that no one needed him. So, why would you?
He turned over, looking at you blankly. He watched you sleep soundlessly, glowering down at you after watching your features for too long. Your soft kisses, soft touches, soft looks⊠they werenât for him. They were for someone who deserved you. Someone that wasnât him. He wasnât the man you thought he was, and you didnât deserve to be deceived like this. You were too soft, didnât fit into his world. The one that was filled with violence, gun smoke, and death. Nothing suitable for you. His life wasnât hospitable for anyone but him. His fucking mind wasnât habitable. You deserved at least that much.
Or maybe he was scared he didnât fit into your world.
So, he left. One of the few things he was good at. One of few things he did regularly that didnât end up killing anyone. Sure, your feelings might be hurt for a while, but youâd get over him. He never stayed long enough to develop feelings, so you shouldnât be hurt too bad. Right?
He left, leaving you to wake up alone in the morning. Thinking of the night just before when he kissed you like you meant the world to him, like he needed you to function.
Calls and texts werenât returned. âRadio silenceâ you thought to yourself with a bitter laugh. You knew what he did for a job. You knew what you were getting into, but your dumb, idiot brain didnât care. He didnât understand. His brain couldnât comprehend why you liked him. He just couldnât.
Each day that passed got harder and harder for you. You missed him, and his smell, and his dumb jokes, and his warmth, and everything about that brooding man. You called and texted him again. Once more for the sake of it.
âSimon, I know what happened was an accident, and im sorry for taking it too far. I just wanted to say that I missed our movie nights and was hoping you might come back for at least one more. Again, Iâm sorry that I ruined it. I loved having you as a friend and hope I can make it up to you in the future.â
You sent the desperate text, hoping for a response before turning your phone off. You cried into your pillow once more before falling asleep.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
You had nightmares for weeks before finally having dreams again. You mourned a loss you didnât think that youâd ever have to go through.
You slept through another night, holding your pillow tighter as if it might randomly morph into Simon again. He used to be your cuddle buddy when he was on leave. Saying his apartment was too quiet, cold, lonely and you didnât have a spare room, and the couch was too small, and Simon would never let you sleep on the couch in your own home. Thus, you had a cuddle buddy, and Simon could finally sleep through night.
You woke up in a cold sweat, the thunder beating down on your worn roof. You made your way to the kitchen, getting some water to quench your thirst and hoping to quell the ache still in your gnawing at your heart. You had given up on the man you loved enough to give yourself to, and now you had to forget about him. Or get over him at the least.
The lightening continued to rage on outside, thunder following in step not too long after. The thunder seemed to get louder and louder, beating down on your walls and roof and⊠door?
You make your way down the hall, the living room passing in quiet melancholy. The lone couch you havenât had the heart to sit on again in months, the bare coffee table you couldnât bear to look at anymore because if you looked close enough, you could still see Simonâs bourbon cup there. Lonely and waiting to be finished. The one you picked out just for him for movie night. The carpet that your cat still napped on, most likely also clinging to Simonâs smell. The one jacket you were able to keep of Simonâs was still around your body, dropping down to your knees as you continued to walk.
You finally get to the door, looking up into the peephole. There wasnât much to see though, the rain and wind obscuring your view. You took your chances and opened the door.
You stood face to face with a drenched man, covered in black and rainwater- like he had walked in the rain to your door. You were confused until he looked up, his head previously hanging low. His usually piercing blue eyes looked sad and drained, looking at you as though coming to you took everything out of him. And in a way, it did.
Though now, as he stood in front of you- watching you intently, taking in all the details of your face that he missed while he was gone- he wanted to breathe you in, he wanted to drown in your sickly, sweet smell and fall into the dark depths of your chocolate brown eyes and wanted to get lost in that accent of yours, laugh at the way your urn, earn, and Aaron all sounded the same. He couldnât stand the way you made him feel, so vulnerable and so very open. But right now? He loved it, he needed it, and he couldnât deny anymore that he fucking loved you.
"This movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid." He says halfway through the movie.
"This movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley?
They're allowed to be a little stupid." You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided it'd be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at all...
"It's dumb. What the fuck is 'summer love'? It's dumb." He continues.
"It's the cutest thing ever!" you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.
He rolls his eyes. "You're the cutest thing ever."
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Im back, hehe, and pt. 6 will be out soon and by soon I mean when I feel like proofreading it :) this is their meeting and how they got together :> (Cw: cussing, vague mentions of sex and Simonâs an idiot)
Meeting you was easy. Knowing you got easier, but leaving you was easier than Simon would have liked. Easy like he was setting himself up, like he was simply a pawn in someone elseâs story. Something he wouldnât have minded if his maker hadnât given him so many fucking feelings. Things heâd rather not have. Especially when you came around.
He felt like he couldnât breathe around you, drowning in your scent, and your chocolate glazed eyes, and that damned accent he couldnât get out of his mind. He couldnât stand you, or how you made him feel. He hated it.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
It started in an arcade. Not very Simon, I know. But Soap and Gaz had begged Price to go. They needed to blow off some steam with friendly competition; and what better way to do that than to play laser tag? Luckily, they could go in as a group, making sure other poor and unfortunate souls are not a victim of their military expertise. Ghost had to tag along, so now theyâre here, waiting for the previous group to come out.
And they did. You did. You squealed, exiting the laser tag setup, getting the highest score on your team- to which you bragged about. Your shrill excitement turned heads, including Simonâs. You danced happily, sticking your tongue out- at what he assumed was family or friends- not caring for the eyes on you. You were happy and were going to express it without shame.
Caught up in your victory, you effectively changed the course of your life for what you know it is now. Stumbling into Simon, who was still waiting in line with Kyle and Johnny. You turned around, apologies ready to fall from your lips before suddenly you felt them dry, your throat falling in suit as you looked up to the much larger man.
It was something he was used to, but that didnât mean it didnât hurt his feelings from time to time. Imagine going out of your way, risking your life to save people, and when you carry them out of that burning building, theyâre screaming. Not because they could have just died, but because the man carrying them looked a little scary. Most of the time it was just annoying, still, it dampened his mood a bit any time someone laid their eyes on him. Itâs not like he tries to scare people (sometimes he does)- itâs just their first reaction to him, which he figures he canât help.
But what does catch him off guard is your sudden smile. You smiled up at him after your moment of hesitance before wishing him luck, yes, him, luck. The big scary man that made you practically tremble in your own skin just by looking at him. Then, you trailed off to your friends as if you hadnât made his stomach flip and twist. His irritation only increased.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
The food court was bright, the many lights illuminating anything unfortunate enough to cross in its path. If Johnny had anything to say, heâd probably go on about how his lieutenant was the opposite of this food court: All dark and brooding and the like. Never wanting to be illuminated by the lights, a stark contrast to the linoleum floors that seemed to soak up the bright light like it was a starving plant awaiting the grace of its oh so sacred Sun.
The food court was inviting, smelled good, and provided all the food you could ever want. Simon, on the other hand- besides smelling good occasionally- had nothing in common with this food court. Then he saw you again. Something he would consider akin to the food court. Bright and shining like a fluorescent light. Nothing he wanted to be around. He had gotten a considerable amount of your scent the first time you met. It was nothing short of sweet and overpowering. He hated it. How could he ever associate with something as bright as you? As sweet and caring as you?
He didnât have to know you personally to know that you were all those things. Didnât even think twice about his assumptions. But Simon just wanted to get on with his day. Get on and forget about that unfortunate interaction with you.
Then, you had the audacity to run into him again. Stumbling this time- he corrects in his head. Though, corrections didnât matter as your cup collided with his chest with you. Your cup, filled to the brim with a slushy he could only assume was just as sweet as your stupid smile.
Simon had come out to the food court to have a relaxing meal with his closest buddies. That was what was in the plans with him today, no matter how reluctant he may have been in the beginning. The promise of food always made him get up and out wherever he was needed. Even if that meant an arcade. But now, all the fun he had was slowly depleting more and more the longer you stayed in his bubble. Too close, too much, too much-
âSorry, sorry.â You frown sincerely, quickly fumbling for the napkins in your bag. Your voice cuts through his thoughts like a hot steak knife through butter. Quick and precise. Now your hands were on his chest, and he felt his mind go blank. As much as the dark space that controlled him could.
âDidnât mean to.â You frown sincerely, offering to buy him another shirt. By this time, he still had yet to say anything. Nothing could be said as you continued to palm at his body, the heat from your hands soaking into his own skin. How did anyone expect him to think in these conditions?
His silence finally made you look up. He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, almost questioning- amused if you will- as you looked up at him embarrassed. Flustered if he would.
âSorry.â You mumble again, suddenly feeling smaller with his eyes on you. âIâll buy you another shirt.â You offer again, the words struggling to come out.
âNo need.â He simply says, hoping to shrug you off.
What was that sound? It sounded as if Simon was being.. gentle with you. Kind. He should be mad. You ruined his shirt. So, why wasnât he?
âPlease? Iâve inconvenienced you twice now.â You basically plead, looking up at him with eyes that seemed to be dipped in chocolate, once, twice, three times before your maker seemed satisfied, adding just a hint of gold to the center- as if the melted swirls of his favorite sweets hadnât been enough- before moving to sculpt the rest of your body. Jesus. He needed Jesus right about now.
Needed him to advert his gaze before he had to claw his own eyes out in sin. Needed him so he could have the strength to walk away instead of inhaling that sickly sweet smell that belonged to you, and you alone. Needed him to keep his hands off you before he had to get Johnny to detach them himself because- Jesus fucking Christ.
Simon never had a woman beg to buy him something. To fix something of his. Whether it was their fault or not. Women- the ever-entitled creatures- were simply a mystery to the enigma of a man himself. He couldnât understand why you or anyone, would go out of their way to help a broken man like him. Ghost still had pieces to pick up and would be damned if anyone got cut trying to help him. Simon could handle it. Ghost could handle this; Simon could handle you.
So, then how did he end up staring at shirts of his size as you stood next to him watching his reactions? Johnny or even Kyle would have the same question if he hadnât snuck off with you. It felt weird. Like really weird. Like sneaking-out-of-the-house-at-fifteen- weird. Like he could caught, a deer in a truckâs headlights.
He let you talk his ear off while buying him another shirt- much to his dismay.
Thatâs where it started. A fucking clothing shop.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Eventually, he started to fit you into his schedule. On the days he barely had off, he wanted to be with you. As sappy as it sounded, thatâs the truth. His truth anyway.
No one on the team knew where he disappeared to on his leaves. They all assumed that he was rotting in bed or something, stuck in the four walls of his flat. Something like that would have been true had you not come along. He might as well have been stuck ordering something from DoorDash because he hadnât eaten in- how many days had it been? Instead of out with you, enjoying places around his flat he didnât know existed. Maybe he would have been stuck lying in bed, trying to sleep, trying to shut off his mind before you came along. Now, heâs stuck watching your sappy movies. And he wouldnât change a goddamn thing. He liked the quiet like this. He liked your quiet. He liked⊠his time spent with you. Nothing more.
Liking was a stretch, now that he thinks about it. He⊠tolerated your loud laughs and toothy smiles. The same way he tolerated the MREâs he was forced to eat. The way he tolerated Johnnyâs loudness. Nothing more, nothing less.
His tolerance is how he finds himself on your couch. Watching another sappy movie. The Notebook. He wouldnât be caught dead watching a movie like this, but he guesses itâs okay if itâs in the comfort of your home and in your four walls.
âThis movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid.â He says halfway through the movie.
âThis movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley? Theyâre allowed to be a little stupid.â You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided itâd be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at allâŠ
âItâs dumb. What the fuck is âsummer loveâ? Itâs dumb.â He continues.
âItâs the cutest thing ever!â you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.
He rolls his eyes. âYouâre the cutest thing ever.â He mumbles before he can stop the flood of words. He refuses to look over at you as he hears the crunch of popcorn in your mouth cease. He can feel your eyes on him and for once in a long time, he sweats.
He would blame his words and rosy cheeks on the alcohol if everyone didnât know he could hold his liquor. There was no getting out of this, so he cleared his throat, taking another sip of the brown liquid that repulsed you the first time he got you to finally try it.
âWhat?â You finally ask, popcorn still on your lap.
ââŠ..â
âSimon.â You prod, sitting up all the way. You had been laying on his shoulder as you watched the movie. Something you usually did when movie night started. He never pushed you away yet never pulled you closer. You werenât sure where you stood with him. Well, until now, because apparently you were the cutest thing ever to him.
âSlip of the tongue.â He says, hoping you might believe him, but knowing you wonât.
It dampens your mood a little, because maybe you were hoping it wasnât.
âOh.â You say in a small voice, resting back on his shoulder, trying to quell the ache in your stomach. Fill the hole that was forming the more you stared at Allie and Noah kissing for the nth time.
Simon thought about it for no more than 10 seconds before turning and pressing his lips to yours. His hand holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were stupid enough to believe him, how could he not? He was used to having to spell things out for you, this was no different. Even if it changed the course of the otherwise friendly relationship he had with you.
He was a cruel and calculated man; he didnât act on a whim or irrationally. Rational was the best course of action in his opinion. Acting was one of the few things he stood by. Being blunt was the only way to get the best results. No one could give you what you want unless you told them explicitly. He wasnât a mind reader, and he didnât expect anyone else to be.
Simon did, however, expect everyone to have at least a little bit of common sense. You seemed to be lacking in both departments at times. Always talking in parables or hinting at things you wanted but never asking for them. You made him wrack his brain for solutions you could have simply told him. He didnât know why he never complained until now. He fucking liked you.
He pulled away after a moment, hoping that helped to clear up any confusion in your pretty little head.
He tried to pull away anyway, only to be pulled closer as you grabbed onto his shirt. You pressed your lips back to his. He let you climb on top, sitting in his lap as he melted into your lips and you into his. It was mutual. The fucking feeling was mutual. After a moment, you both let out a sigh. It was a sigh of relief, not that either of you knew that.
You thought he might regret it after, but he cleared those thoughts away quickly, picking you up and carrying you to your room. Your back against a few walls before he finally laid you onto your bed because fuck were you needy.
Noah and Allie were left alone to carry out the rest of their love story while you focused on carrying out yours. You may or may not have been crushing on the brooding giant way before the movie night.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Ghost tormented Simon any time he could. Calling him weak and gullible. An idiot. Only idiots fall in love. How could you not have noticed this? How could Simon not have noticed your hesitance? You obviously didnât feel the same, not when you had to think twice about him. He wasnât your first choice. Ghost made that much clear to Simon. Simon was never anyoneâs first choice and would never be. Why should you be any different?
Simon laid awake on your bed, sweat still beading down his pale skin. A stark contrast to the body next to his. In fact, Simon couldnât be more different from you. You were warm, inviting, soft. He was cold, cruel, and harsh around every edge that made him up. You were everything he wasnât. Simon rationalized that you were his other half, Ghost said that you werenât made for him. Ghost didnât need anyone, and Simon believed that no one needed him. So, why would you?
He turned over, looking at you blankly. He watched you sleep soundlessly, glowering down at you after watching your features for too long. Your soft kisses, soft touches, soft looks⊠they werenât for him. They were for someone who deserved you. Someone that wasnât him. He wasnât the man you thought he was, and you didnât deserve to be deceived like this. You were too soft, didnât fit into his world. The one that was filled with violence, gun smoke, and death. Nothing suitable for you. His life wasnât hospitable for anyone but him. His fucking mind wasnât habitable. You deserved at least that much.
Or maybe he was scared he didnât fit into your world.
So, he left. One of the few things he was good at. One of few things he did regularly that didnât end up killing anyone. Sure, your feelings might be hurt for a while, but youâd get over him. He never stayed long enough to develop feelings, so you shouldnât be hurt too bad. Right?
He left, leaving you to wake up alone in the morning. Thinking of the night just before when he kissed you like you meant the world to him, like he needed you to function.
Calls and texts werenât returned. âRadio silenceâ you thought to yourself with a bitter laugh. You knew what he did for a job. You knew what you were getting into, but your dumb, idiot brain didnât care. He didnât understand. His brain couldnât comprehend why you liked him. He just couldnât.
Each day that passed got harder and harder for you. You missed him, and his smell, and his dumb jokes, and his warmth, and everything about that brooding man. You called and texted him again. Once more for the sake of it.
âSimon, I know what happened was an accident, and im sorry for taking it too far. I just wanted to say that I missed our movie nights and was hoping you might come back for at least one more. Again, Iâm sorry that I ruined it. I loved having you as a friend and hope I can make it up to you in the future.â
You sent the desperate text, hoping for a response before turning your phone off. You cried into your pillow once more before falling asleep.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
You had nightmares for weeks before finally having dreams again. You mourned a loss you didnât think that youâd ever have to go through.
You slept through another night, holding your pillow tighter as if it might randomly morph into Simon again. He used to be your cuddle buddy when he was on leave. Saying his apartment was too quiet, cold, lonely and you didnât have a spare room, and the couch was too small, and Simon would never let you sleep on the couch in your own home. Thus, you had a cuddle buddy, and Simon could finally sleep through night.
You woke up in a cold sweat, the thunder beating down on your worn roof. You made your way to the kitchen, getting some water to quench your thirst and hoping to quell the ache still in your gnawing at your heart. You had given up on the man you loved enough to give yourself to, and now you had to forget about him. Or get over him at the least.
The lightening continued to rage on outside, thunder following in step not too long after. The thunder seemed to get louder and louder, beating down on your walls and roof and⊠door?
You make your way down the hall, the living room passing in quiet melancholy. The lone couch you havenât had the heart to sit on again in months, the bare coffee table you couldnât bear to look at anymore because if you looked close enough, you could still see Simonâs bourbon cup there. Lonely and waiting to be finished. The one you picked out just for him for movie night. The carpet that your cat still napped on, most likely also clinging to Simonâs smell. The one jacket you were able to keep of Simonâs was still around your body, dropping down to your knees as you continued to walk.
You finally get to the door, looking up into the peephole. There wasnât much to see though, the rain and wind obscuring your view. You took your chances and opened the door.
You stood face to face with a drenched man, covered in black and rainwater- like he had walked in the rain to your door. You were confused until he looked up, his head previously hanging low. His usually piercing blue eyes looked sad and drained, looking at you as though coming to you took everything out of him. And in a way, it did.
Though now, as he stood in front of you- watching you intently, taking in all the details of your face that he missed while he was gone- he wanted to breathe you in, he wanted to drown in your sickly, sweet smell and fall into the dark depths of your chocolate brown eyes and wanted to get lost in that accent of yours, laugh at the way your urn, earn, and Aaron all sounded the same. He couldnât stand the way you made him feel, so vulnerable and so very open. But right now? He loved it, he needed it, and he couldnât deny anymore that he fucking loved you.
"This movie is stupid. Allie is stupid, Noah is stupid." He says halfway through the movie.
"This movie is a love story okay, Mr. Riley?
They're allowed to be a little stupid." You counter, passing the bucket of popcorn over to his side. He takes a few, passing it back and downing the popped kernels with a glass of bourbon. The expensive kind you insisted on buying for him so he might have at least one luxury in his life. He decided it'd be best to leave it at your house. For no reason at all...
"It's dumb. What the fuck is 'summer love'? It's dumb." He continues.
"It's the cutest thing ever!" you exclaim, taking mock offense to his accusations about one of your favorites.
He rolls his eyes. "You're the cutest thing ever."
The two of you looked like deer caught in headlights. Late night meetings like teenagers. Simon is still holding you for a good ten seconds before he sets you down, situating himself between you and his sergeants.
âLet us see the lassie.â Soap huffs, taking a step forward, tilting his head to try and get a glance at you.
Simon only moves to block his view, his smile gone, replaced by a subtle frown.
âWhat are you doinâ out here MacTavish, Garrick?â Simon asks, his tone colder than youâre used to.
âJust wannae know where our Lieutenantâs been goinâ.â Soap answers with a simple smile.
You peek from behind Simon, taking in the men. A brown one, handsome, and one who was clearly Scottish with a mohawk. It was the heaviest Scottish accent youâve ever heard. You wondered what heâd sound like drunk.
âUh, SimonâŠ.â You say quietly, looking up at him, wanting an explanation.
He doesnât even look at you, having a stare down with the one named MacTavish.
Gaz speaks up this time. âPretty girl.â He says with a friendly smile, catching a glimpse of you before Simon steps into his field of view again, effectively hiding you again.
It was getting increasingly annoying; you were just as curious as them. If there was one thing you hated, it was being left in the dark. Especially when the matter was about you.
âSimon.â You say again, this time a little louder, clearly annoyed.
âNot right now.â He says, still staring down the pair.
âYes, right now. What the hell is going on?â You ask, a slight bite in your tone. You knew he knew you wouldnât back down from this.
âGo back to base.â Simon tells the two.
âCmon Lt. Donât be like that.â Soap says with another step closer.
âWe just wanna meet your girl.â Gaz says, trailing beside the other male.
âYouâre not meeting shit. Go back to base. Thatâs an order.â Ghost bites back, not wanting to deal with this right now. Especially with you involved.
The two go quiet at that, not expecting such hostility.
âSimon, donât be rude.â You chastise. He audibly grunts at this, a deep sound in his throat as he finally turned to you, still hiding their view of you with his body.
âPlease. Will you go back to your room?â He asks politely though you know heâs upset. Most likely angry too.
You frown up at him, âtell me whatâs going on.â You say again, watching him closely.
âIâll tell you later. Please, go back up to your room.â He says, his face stoic and blank, a stark contrast to his tone towards you.
Your frown deepens. âNo.â you tell him. âYou canât send me to my room like Iâm a little-â You start before being thrown over his shoulder. The entire walk back heâs grumbling about how defiant you are, unable to just do as youâre told. Youâre arguing back as well, squirming in his arms, hitting at his back though it doesnât help much.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
âStop.â He says coldly, taking the room key from you, unlocking your door. He sets you on the lives room couch, staring down at you. You look up at him defiantly, crossing your arms.
He kneels in front of you, coming down eye to eye now. His hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you closer. He tilts his head at your look.
âWhy ya lookinâ at me like thaâ?â He asks, his anger seemingly dissipated.
You glare at him, arms still crossed. âYouâre treating me like a child.â You state, silently seething.
âYou were actinâ liâ one.â He defends, unfolding your arms.
This doesnât make you any happier, deciding you didnât want to talk to him anymore. You stare just past him, ignoring him.
He notices this immediately and frowns. One hand finds your chin, trying to get you to look at him, but you just jerk away, refusing to look at him.
âDove. Stop. Look aâ me.â He says. You donât reply nor look at him. He sighs once, closing his eyes and breathing. He pinches his nose, pulling you by the hand.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Down the steps and back outside he finds his sergeants still there, talking amongst themselves. Of course they didnât go back. Now it was you plus them. A trio who didnât know how to listen to him.
Despite his obvious annoyance about the entire situation, he stiffly introduces you to them, and them to you. Voice severely lacking enthusiasm.
âLuv, Soap and Gaz.â He says quietly to you, pointing them out for you.
Such softness was not given to his sergeants, blankly introducing them to you.
âSay hello.â He tells them as if he might skin them alive if they arenât nice.
ââey lassie.â Soap says with a friendly smile, hand out to shake yours. Simon stops it immediately.
âSaid say hello. Not touch âer.â He says before looking over to Gaz, making him say hello too.
âDonât be rude.â You say to Simon.
âYou can be quiet. All of you are headaches.â He says in a snappy tone.
You smile at his friends before laughing, pointing at him like he was a practical joke. You suddenly hit his chest, lips tight as you ask him who the hell he thinks heâs talking to, because it wasnât you. Maybe it was fucking Casper.
He glares down at you but says nothing. You smile again, turning to his friends, introducing yourself properly.
Seemingly satisfied with your introduction and annoying their lieutenant, the wave goodbye, trailing back to base as they undoubtedly talk about you.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
âDidnât âave ta hit me.â He says quietly, holding your hand as you two trail around campus, planning to go back to your dorm later.
âDidnât âave to be an asshole.â You reply, rocking into him.
He thinks for a while, walking silently beside you.
âDidnât want them meetinâ you.â He says finally, looking over at you before looking ahead again.
âWhy not?â
âCause theyâre annoying.â He replies in a huffy tone, making you laugh.
âSeem nice.â You respond, squeezing his hand a little, getting a gentle squeeze in return.
âLooks can be deceiving.â He states matter of fact. It makes you laugh again, covering your mouth.
âCanât be that bad if theyâre workinâ with you, hm?â
âThey are that bad.â He deadpans.
âCmon, be nice.â You encourage, swinging your arm.
He looks at you again, stopping under a streetlamp.
You stand in front of him, looking up curiously.
âCome up.â He says, pulling you closer. You jump up in his arms with a laugh, legs wrapped around his torso, your own arms loosely around his neck. He stares into your eyes, and you feel nervous. Eye contact doesnât make you nervous, but he did. You smile sheepishly.
âYesâŠ?â You ask, tilting your head, looking away occasionally.
âJust pretty.â He says, putting you back down. âWanna see it up close.â He huffs, taking your hand and walking again like he hadnât sent your heart into overdrive.
You hit him, unable to take the compliment. âShut up.â You mutter, hoping your blush wasnât visible in the pale moonlight.
âShut doesnât go up luv.â He chuckles.
âFuck you.â You huff.
âOnly if you ask politely.â He says, smiling down at you as you make your last lap and start heading back to your dorm room.
âSimon! Youâre disgusting.â You exclaim, hitting his arm softly, turning away so he didnât see your face. He only laughs, scooping you up in his arms before moving you to his back so you didnât have to walk up all those stairs.
âYou know I can walk right?â You ask as he makes his way up the first flight.
âNot for very long.â He mutters, a determined look on his face as he starts on the second.
Your eyes bug slightly. âJust nasty.â You huff into his ear.
âI know.â He words sounding almost distracted, and it makes your face heat up.
âWhatever youâre thinking about, stop it.â You say, squirming in his hold to get his attention.
He looks back at you, dark eyes staring into your soul. âNot thinkinâ of anything.â He replies sweetly, looking away, turning as he treks up the third and final flight.
âYou are, I can tell.â
âCan read my mind now?â He teases.
âYes.â You huff back.
âMh?â he says intrigued. âTell me how Iâve got you.â He says darkly.
You roll your eyes, muttering about how dirty his mind was.
âIâll tell you if you ask nicely.â He teases, walking down the hall to your door.
âI donât think I wanna know.â You reply.
âThink you might enjoy it.â He responds, turning the corner.
âI think I might not.â You huff again, giving him your key.
âThink you did enjoy being on top.â He says and you hit his chest again. He chuckles, carrying you all the way to your bed.
âI think youâre disgusting.â You say, sitting down as he looked at you.
âI think you need to shower.â
âI take offense to that.â You huff, knowing you did, but knowing he didnât say that because you smelled bad, but because he had perverted thoughts of you being in the shower.
âNot tryinâ to.â He says, pulling you to stand as he sits down, pulling you between his legs. âThink your shirt should come off first.â He says, locking eyes with you as he pulled up your shirt.
âI think I can undress myself.â You say, pulling his hands away, taking off your shirt. His hands rest on your sides. Watching you like his favorite show.
âMh mh. Hands off.â You tell him and he reluctantly complies. You step away, slipping out of your clothes as you head to the shower. His groans are audible, following you as you unclasp your bra.
He watches you quietly as you turn the water on, waiting for it to heat up. You donât look at him, getting your soap from the cabinet along with your towel and washcloth.
âYouâre teasinâ.â He says, voice gruff and guarded.
âIâm getting in the shower like you suggested.â You say plainly, stepping in. You hum quietly as the bathroom mirror fogs, leaving the entire bathroom blanketed in a layer of fog.
âI think I need a shower too.â He states blankly, making you giggle.
âYouâre more than welcome to get in after me.â You say happily.
âThink we could save a bit of water.â He suggests.
âDonât need to worry about that when youâre not paying the water bill.â You say, knowing you were leading him like a dog (freak) on a leash.
âThink itâs the polite thing to do.â He says. Itâs funny listening to him talk about manners.
You hum in thought. âPerhaps.â You say and he feels quite lucky. âAsk me nicely and Iâll think about it.â You say after a momentâs pause.
âPlease?â He asks almost immediately.
âMmmmâŠ.. Think you can do better than that.â You say, teasing as you reveal a bit of yourself as you get some soap.
His gaze is dark when you meet his eyes. His blue irises look black as you disappear back behind the curtain, quietly chuckling to yourself.
âLet me to join you, please.â He says stiff and dry.
You hum in thought again. âI kinda like my alone time in here.â You say, washing your arms.
âCould give you something you might âkinda likeâ more.â
âI donât think so.â You reply, peeking your head past the curtain to give him a smile. You disappear behind the plastic once more, continuing to wash your body as you hum a calming tune.
Simon was anything but calm. You were a fucking tease and knew it. He squeezed his hands into fists, slowing his breath.
You soon got out of the shower, wrapping yourself up in your towel, going back to your room to see Simon waiting on your bed, manspreading.
âtâs not polite to sit with your legs open.â You say prancing around in your towel as you pick out clothes for the night.
He watches you quietly.
ââave a problem.â He says suddenly.
ââm sure you can figure it out.â You say, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, putting on sweetly scented lotion.
âCouldnât hurt to help.â He says, watching you. You could feel his eyes on you. Your hair standing on end like you were being stalked by a predator.
âToo tired to help.â You say, spraying a light mist of perfume before slipping into your nightgown.
âCould find ways to keep you up.â He quips back just as fast. Fucking witty bastard.
âI think Iâd rather go to sleep.â
âThink Iâd rather you not.â
âThink I donât care what you think.â
âThink you need someone to correct that mouth of yours.â
âThink I donât.â
âThink you do.â
âThink you should leave so I can sleep.â
âThink again.â
You turn to him, a shit eating grin on his face. You roll your eyes, climbing into bed.
âYouâre annoying.â You state, cuddling up to your pillow.
âYouâre pretty.â He says, pulling the pillow from your bed, climbing in himself.
âYouâre too big for my bed.â
âIâm big in a lot of places.â
âI know, big back.â You say, mocking his appearance.
âTurn âround.â He demands.
âWhat if I donât want to?â
âWhat if I make you?â
You turn over, letting him spoon you. His big hands curl around your front, keeping you glued to him as he inhaled your scent.
âStaying the night?â you ask, holding his hands, basking in his heat.
âMh mh. Gotta go back to base. Deal with my sergeants.â He answers honestly, taking your hands in his, rubbing soft circles on your knuckles. Your hands much softer than his. He squeezed your hands occasionally, enjoying the plush they had.
âStay with ya till you fall asleep. That good for you?â he asks, and you nod gently, scooting back into him more. There was no space left between the two of you, but to you, it still wasnât close enough.
âCareful.â He warns in a low tone, rubbing circles on your stomach now.
âOr what?â You ask defiantly, yawning through half your question.
He whispers quietly in your ear, making you shiver in his tight hold.
âPromise it.â He finishes, leaving you awake for far longer with a knot in your stomach.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
You wake up alone. You know itâd happen, but you were slightly hoping heâd fall asleep too and be there when you woke up.
You stretch, feeling that good pull in your legs, groaning softly. You remember last night, how you teased him with your shower, and in return, remembering the obscenities he whispered into your ear.
Your stomach knots again and you close your eyes, trying to push the visuals out of your head.
You huff slightly, making your way out of your room. A sweet smell meets your nose and you make your way to the kitchen.
âDove.â Simon greets, cooking with Julia.
âOh. Hey.â You mumble, coming up close to them, looking to see what was made.
âSome way to say good morning.â He says, giving you a look.
âGo to hell.â You grumble, resting your head in his back, moving with him like a sleepy waltz.
âIâll remember that.â He says with a smile, enjoying your presence and touch.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~~_--
Here whore @brokenbough, Iâm making a comeback đ
König only rolls his eyes, watching your movements through the door, trailing to the couch behind Horangi.
You come out not long after, cooking up a quick meal for you three, but Horangi isnât happy.
âYou came late.â
âI was reading my bookââ you try, but heâs having none of it.
âDid I say speak?â
You say nothing, standing like you were just scolded.
A quick motion down has you on your knees quickly, kneeling at his side.
König is watching it all, watching how obedient you are, listening closely to his mate. He has to try it out for himself some time.
He catches you heading into the bathroom right before he leaves, wanting to see if youâd listen to him too.
âSchatz,â he says, crowding you by the door.
You turn quickly, nodding in greeting, not uttering a word.
âYou can speak to me, you know,â König offers with a crooked smile.
You offer one back, taking in a breath to speak before Horangi intercepts.
âNo, she cannot.â
König turns to his friend, you retreating into the bathroom.
You hear them argue outside the door, relieving yourself quickly as to not get caught up last time.
Maybe König would be the lesser of the two evils. Maybe youâre too naive.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Lowkey came out misogynistic, BUT I DIDNâT MEAN IT THAT WAY đŁđŁ Horangi is a good partner, albeit a little freaky, at worst a little controlling. He knows you get off on the embarrassment, especially in front of his friends
Yeahhhh, we all know that trope of the little device in you while youâre sitting with others, trying to keep quiet. Yeahhhh, that with König. He likes seeing you struggle đđ afab genital
Remote Control: König
ââââââ
Heâs been playing with you all night, turning it up high and then to nothing but a dull vibration against your core. You hated every second of it, but each inquiry of your well being made you shiver.
âNo, I havenât been on an op in almost a week. Iâm getting restless,â Horangi states, stirring the watered down drink.
König nods along, looking to you, silently encouraging you to do anything other than try to look like youâre not about to cum.
âWhat about you?â Horangi finally inquires after some silence, Roze stuck in conversation with Hutch.
âM-me? Iâmââ König turns it up a notch. You suppress a whine, eyes cut at the man. âIâm fineâ just. Yknow. Hangâing around,â you finish, grounding out the last words as König turns up the vibrations up even higher.
When you look over at him, he has the audacity to keep talking to Horangi, not even paying attention to what heâs doing to you.
In retaliation, you kick him under the table, then suppressing another porn worthy whine as he turns it to max.
You burrow your face in his side, squeezing him, speaking quietly so only he can hearâ asking for forgiveness, saying sorry, begging him to turn it down before you get too loud.
He ignores it all, talking to Horangi as he moves the motion all around.
Itâs too much for your poor cunt. You bite down on him, hands squeezing his thighs as your orgasm finally comes down after hours of edging through the dinner.
Itâs terrible, Roze and Hutch watch as tears fall from your eyes, Horangiâs voice distorted as he asks whatâs wrongâ again.
But you have no answer, sobbing into overstimulation as König keeps going. You donât think youâll be able to walk out of this restaurant without either assistance or an embarrassing wet spot on your clothes..
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Keegan, as you now know, wasnât a social guy. You rarely saw him out of the battlefield, always ducking off somewhere right after an op.
It shouldnât have bothered you the way it did. You shouldnât even have noticed. But you did, and you couldnât help wanting to know. Too curious for your own good.
So, when you walk past his own quarters, doing late night rounds before hitting the hay yourself, you donât mean to stay and listen to him.
To his sounds as you can only assume jerks himself off.
Youâve never seen him with anyone, let alone a partner.
You miss the way your breath catches when his mouth breathes your name. Your name. But you donât miss the whine that comes after, your name some sort of trigger word that got him off instantly.
It was dirty, perverted. He was dirty and perverted.
You finally breathe again when his bed creeks under his weight, seemingly moving about now.
You hightail it out of the vicinity as quickly as possible, not wanting to be caught. Not yet.
Itâs only fair you return the favor however, listening to his sweet moans had to come at some price. You had convinced yourself of this by the time you had made it to his room.
One knock, two.
Itâs almost scary how quickly he opens up, staring at you. Eyes bloodshot as if you had woken him up. You guess it was pretty late.
Neither of you say anything for a long while before you clear your throat and muster up all your courage.
âI-I heard you. Uhm. The other nightâ not that I was eavesdropping or anythingâ but. I just figured⊠that. Uhm.â You canât barely get the words out at you stare at your shoes, the floor beneath you.
âYou want sex,â he says plainly. Less as a question and more of a statement.
Your eyes bug, snapping to his.
âW-well, I wasnâtââ
He only opens his door wider, silencing you with the quiet gesture.
You donât think to hesitate or even question how he knew what you meant when you step into his room.
Itâs quaint, nothing overcrowding it. Just the necessities and a few books.
You stand in the middle of the room like an idiot, watching him watch you.
His stare is icy, a freezing fire burning within the iris. Itâs startling as it is beautiful.
âI can have you however I want?â He asks after another too long moment of silence.
You feel your face heat. Yes. âI-I guess.â Youâre too embarrassed to even look back him, too turned on to let him see.
His chest soon presses against your back, naked body to naked body as he holds you closer and closer, groping your flesh wherever he could.
His rough, calloused hands felt good over your body, over your chest, perked nipple pleading for more stimulation.
You hear multiple curses slip from him as he pushes in, big hands squeezing you.
One snakes around your neck when he finally gets buried to the hilt. A moan from both of you echo through his room. Itâs disgusting, but you wouldnât have it any other way.
âWanna hear ya gasping,â he says, setting a casual pace, hand pressing firmer against your pulse.
You donât register what he really means before youâre gasping for air, oxygen punched out of you with each of his thrusts only for it not to come back as his hand squeezes.
You see your vision spot before clearing again when you gasp.
His dick twitches within you, clearly enjoying the sound. âPretty fucking sound.â
It happens over and over, pushed to the hilt, breath stolen and gone when his hand presses hard. Vision spotty before coming back when he finally lets up, dick twitching when you gasp.
Itâs terrible, perverted, and you need more.
The only thing you remember in the morning is asking him, âharder.â
You donât remember much of the night after that, but you wake up to a warm body curled around you, one big hand splayed on your stomach, the other curled around your neckâs pulse like a lifeline.
~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~~_--_~
Eeeeeee, this was so fun to write. Idek what I was going for, but Iâm happy with the product đ€đ€đ€
âItâs not sudden. I asked the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that.â You say in exasperation.
He kisses your forehead after a moment. âMaybe next time baby.â
âKyyyllleee!â
âIâm jokingââ he says with a shrewd laugh that screams âkind ofâ.
âBut if we do this, we do on my terms okay?â
You only roll your eyes, giving him the grace he gives you when youâre in sub space. Most of the time you just wanna forget the day, but he slows down when you ask.
âOkay.â
â
âEasyâ fuck, baby. I told youââ you hear his voice break in the sluttiest whine youâve ever heard from him when youâre buried to the hilt.
âYou okay?!â You ask, genuinely panicking. Had you gone too deep? Hurt him?
âIâmâ f-fine. Youâre just really fucking deep.â
âIâm sorryââ you scramble, slowly pulling out. That was more torturous for him than when you were in.
âFuck, fuck..â
âToo slow?â He doesnât answer when you push back in, trying to set a rhythm but unable to because you canât tell the good whines from the bad.
You end up edging him for over an hour with your unsteady pace, cock begging for a release your inexperience wonâtâ canât allow.
âIâm sorry, Kyle,â you whine when he growls again in frustration (sexual frustration). You just canât seem to get it right :(
ââââââ
Cute little, short prompt. @esstrellaa123 add someone coming in to show you the ropes đ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„ș (I donât wanna)
âI-I called Simon. So he can help me.. yknow?â
Gaz turns to you, heat flickering in his eyes. âThat is like thee worst person you couldâve called.â
You swallow a whimper at his gaze, feeling even worse than before. But Kyle isnât mad at you. No. Heâs in his own space of fear of how he knows Simon will treat him.
Will he cum at the end of it all? Yes. Is that the point? No!
Simon takes his time getting there, psychological torture already starting, and he isnât even there yet.
By the time he does finally get there, Kyle has been able to direct you properly again, getting you to prep him as much as possible.
Simon greets you sweetly, asking about your day and what youâve eaten while you show him the room. You donât even register his shirt is off until itâs over you.
Kyleâs glare is acknowledged, and you swallow. But you knew better than to take it off. What would Ghost say? :(
âAlright. Up on the bed,â he says, all too sweet for Kyleâs liking. You were his, not Simonâs. You were his to sweet talk, not his lieutenantâs.
You do as your told.
âYou gonna put it in him or not?â Simon questions.
âO-oh. Sorry.â
You quickly line yourself up with Kyle, looking back at Simon for reassurance. His grimy smile doesnât ease you in the slightest.
âFace the mutt, not me.â
You turn around quickly, heat spreading up your neck.
You hear a belt jingle and think you might get to watch your pretty hubby get railed by this behemoth, but you were wrong.
So, very, fucking wrong.
You bend over Kyle with a scream. Kyle follows suit soon after, feeling you to the hilt again.
âWhat the fuck Ghost?â Kyle grits out, his own face shoved into the pillows from the force.
ââM just teaching the pretty bird here how to fuck their mutt. Itâs what I was called for, innit?â
Kyle doesnât get to answer as Simon pulls out of you, and you out of Kyle, before shoving back in.
âO-oh God,â you squeal.
âNot quite.â
You spend the next hour being fucked and in turn fucking Kyle. Simon makes you? Kyle? cum again and again with each brutal thrust. It shouldnât feel as good as it did, nor as grimy as it was with another manâs hand curled around your hips, but fuck did the ecstasy hit when he makes you cum again, Kyle moaning like the whore he is when you push in tandem with his lieutenant.
You discover that Simon has a praise kink on a Wednesday.
Heâs just come back from deployment. Slumped on the couch, roughly showered and limp with exhaustion. The most he can do is loop a heavy arm around you waist as you sit beside him with a jar of arnica cream for any bruises you spot.
âTired hey baby?â You give his shoulder a slow rub. His head lolls and he gives you a slow blink. Thatâs a yes then.
âAnything I can do?â
âCome here.â Weeks of not hearing his voice makes your insides go runny.
You cuddle up with a smile and undo the jar of cream. The lotion is cool in your hand and you hope he doesnât mind it. As much as your heart is sore looking at this tired man, itâs a moment of intimacy that quietly thrills you.
Simon closes his eyes as you massage it into his corded neck. His chest rises and falls slowly.
âGood boy,â you whisper, âjust let me take care of you.â
A few minutes go by and the cream has been absorbed into the skin of his neck. You turn to grab some more andâoh! Heâs hard. Like, rock hard.
Youâre a bit confused. You glance back up at him, expecting to find him asleep but instead heâs looking at you with a soft but burning gaze.
âDo you wantâŠâ you donât want to offer something when heâs too tired to think properly.
But his eyes donât leave yours and so you slowly pull him out of his sweatpants, maintaining eye contact the whole time.
You missed the feeling of thisâhis hot, silky cock in your hand, blood pumping so quickly it feels like a heartbeat. You lean over slightly to kiss the tip, relishing kick of his pretty cock as you do so.
A little spit helps things along and before you know it, the slick sounds of your hand jerking Simon off fills the room.
You are looking at him, enjoying his tremulous breaths and slow blinks so much that you lean close to press a small kiss to his cheek
âThank you for this sweet boy,â you say close to his ear, and try not to smirk at the way his cock twitches in your hand.
âI missed you so much,â you whisper, âyouâre so good for letting me do this to you.â
Simonâs thigh twitches against yours. His eyes unfocus and refocus as he tips his head closer to you.
Usually homecoming sex involves a lot of noise and spit and sweat, but you opt for a softer approach tonight with a small kiss to his upper lip.
âYouâre so good to me Simon,â you say and give him a matching kiss on his bottom lip, âyouâre a good man and you treat me so well.â
Youâd bet money that Simonâs stomach is tense as hell right now. His balls are probably tight too. You know that urgent look in his eyes anywhereâheâs so fucking close.
You smear some more precum down his length and squeeze just a smidge tighter. You want to see whether he can come without you going any faster.
Simonâs hand clenches and unclenches against your hip. His palm is a little sweaty.
Another kiss to his cheek, this time a little closer to his eyes. âYouâre so gentle and kind and careful with me.â His eyes flutter shut.
âYou always put me first and it makes me feel so good and all I want is to make you feel good, like the good boy you are.âïżŒ
Simonâs throat seizes in what you suspect might be a stifled moan. You narrow your eyes.
You add a little whimper of your own to sweeten the deal. âWill you be my best boy and come for me? Can you do it now?â
You donât even get halfway through the sentence before Simonâs hips punch the air and his hot cock jerks in your hand, a spurt of come arcing into the air and landing on his stomach.
Simon emits a tight moan and you kiss him gently though it, whispering a thank you and my sweet boy as a cherry on top. A few more slow pulls of your hand and the rest is dripping down the side of his cock.
You pull away to suckle at your hand. You missed the way he tastes.
Simon looks over at you, a little embarrassed, not so much annoyed. You offer him the sweetest smile you can manage to keep yourself in his good books.
âThis was a treat for me. You can deal with me later.â
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