he chuckled. with three long strides, he closed the distance between you two. his fingers gently brushed messy strands of hair out of your face, giving your cheek a quick pinch. "is that a yes?"

you nodded.

fast forward a week, the costume finally arrived.

there was just one problem.

"you're ripping it, darlin'," simon panted.

you fought against the zipper. "suck in more."

"i can't."

with a frustrated groan, you let go. the zipper gave out immediately, sliding down and undoing all your work.

"that's it," you said. "we'll just have to paint your pecs black. where's that stuff you use for your eyes?"

simon shook his head. "i'll wear a vest. look, this comes off."

he unclasped the section tying the top to the pants, taking it off and dropping it to the floor. left in just the black trousers and the mask, his torso bare and on full display, you couldn't help but blush.

"the cape will cover my arms."

it doesn't need to.

you went quiet, grabbing the cape and draping it over his shoulders. you tied a cute little bow at his neck, pretending not to notice how close you were. how your eyes caught on the curve of his throat, the veins standing out from strain. how his biceps flexed, hard and tense, as he shifted under your touch.

"like what you see?"

you averted your eyes, gluing them to the floor. face deep crimson.

"what's that, angel?" he chuckled, tapping his fingers on the underside of your chin to lift your gaze.

one look at you told him everything he needed to know. he took your hand in his and placed it on his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat. then he slowly dragged it lower, your fingers brushing over his scars. you bit your lip.

his stomach dropped, the memories flooding back in. the way all color drained from your face when he flashed you that bloody smile. the way you winced at his words in the car, trying to hold back tears.

he'd spent days alone in the apartment, thumb hovering over your name on his phone. but he never called, thinking it was too late.

a coward.

fucking hell.

"you gotta talk t-"

he hung up.

despite his messages going unanswered, he grabbed the bag along with the muffins and ran to his car. he knew where you were staying, had known from the start. just to make sure you were safe, that's what he told himself. but really, he couldn't stop caring. his mind never stopped wondering how you were doing. whether you hated him. it drove him insane.

he parked his car in front of the building.

and waited.

lingered around the entrance until someone got buzzed in, slipping through the door before it could close all the way.

then he found yours and knocked.

you opened after a while. locking eyes with him, you immediately started shaking your head. "i don't want to see you, si-"

"i'm sorry."

you turned to slam the door in his face, but he quickly planted his foot over the threshold. "i know i should've come sooner. but please."

you froze in hesitation. scanning him from head to toe, you noticed just how miserable he looked. his eyes were bloodshot, so puffy and tired. a smudge of flour stuck to the stubble on his jaw. he was a mess.

reluctantly, you let him in.

"i'm sorry for being a dick," he said. "for pushin' you away when you were the only good thing i had."

you tensed.

"truth is, i loved it too. what we had. scared the hell out of me, but i did. i just didn't know how to keep it without destroyin' it."

you crossed your arms over your chest. "you said it yourself, simon. you weren't built for love."

he stepped closer, desperate. "then i'll learn it. show me what to do. i'll do it."

"don't ask me to fix you."

"i'm not," he said. "i'm asking for a chance."

you didn't give him an answer.

"i'm sorry you had to see me on base that day," he continued. "i was miserable and too proud to admit i missed you. made it everyone's problem."

you remembered how cold he was, how it made you feel small, unsure, and starving for his afffection. you hugged your chest tighter, looking at him with hope you desperately wanted gone.

"i love you."

tears stung your eyes.

"i know my words can't fix it. but i… i needed to do somethin'."

sniffling, you glanced at the bag he was holding, his text coming to mind. the thin plastic trembled with his shaking fingers.

he followed your gaze.

"i didn't screw it up this time," he lifted the bag. "the muffins. thought you might at least... wanna try one."

you watched as he pulled out the container and opened the lid. the sweet scent hit your nose immediately and your heart ached.

they looked delicious. you noticed he used the paper liners you bought. they had tiny princess castles printed all over them, excessively pink.

"i burned the first batch," he admitted. "forgot to set a timer."

the first tears fell, trailing down your face. you quickly wiped them away, but more kept coming. simon froze at the sight. his hand hovered, unsure, then dropped to his side.

guilt seeped from his eyes.

"i know this is not enough," he said, closing the lid and putting it back in the bag. "but i had to try somethin', love. i can't lose you."

you couldn't hold it in anymore. finally breaking down, the emotions you'd tried to repress rushed to the surface.

"you're an asshole."

a sob racked your body. the sound tore out of you, sharp and ugly.

"so fucking mean to me," you continued. "over a stupid mistake you made. it felt like you hated me."

"i didn't," he said quickly.

"you didn't bother checking up on me once since i left. acted like i didn't matter. like you finally got rid of me."

"don’t-"

"don't what?" you challenged him, tears blurring your vision. "don't remind you?"

his lips formed a tight line, eyes glossy.

"you hurt me."

simon finally found the courage to reach out for you, wanting desperately to pull you close and make it all better. your body trembled with sobs, fatigued as you let yourself collapse into him.

he let the bag drop to the floor as his hands wrapped around your waist, steadying you.

you cried into his chest, absorbing the warmth you so badly missed. his heart hammered rapidly in your ears, breath stuck in his throat.

"i'm sorry," he exhaled, voice low. his palm rubbed small circles on your lower back. "i hate myself for it."

"good," you murmured.

"i promise i'll do better," he whispered into your hair.

you stayed like that for a while, allowing yourself to indulge in the moment. the tears had quickly subsided, leaving you with a pounding headache.

simon led you to the couch, holding you like you were made of glass, guilt still guiding his every move.

you finally asked to try the muffin.

he fetched it for you, eyes attentively watching for your reaction.

you hesitated before grabbing your keys. you'd never visited him on base, having only a rough idea of its location because simon once pointed it out while you were driving past. the problem was that your navigation showed nothing but a vast forest in its general area, unable to give you detailed instructions.

you'd just have to pray.

you hoped to god he didn't do anything stupid.

it had been a rough couple of days for you two. a nasty fight that had turned you into strangers. eating dinner in separate rooms, sleeping with an arm's length between you, never once touching during the night. not a single word had fallen from your lips since yesterday morning.

he knew he was in the wrong. but he was too stubborn to make it right.

but now, your bitter feelings had to be put on pause.

with a bit of luck, you managed to locate the base on your own. heart hammering in your chest, you drove up to the gate. the guards exchanged a look and handed you a stamped piece of paper right away, checking the inside of your car only through the window.

getting through security was also surprisingly brief. somehow, they already recognized you. when you handed them your id, you noticed their gazes were averted and their hands didn't linger, only touching when absolutely necessary.

with a visitor card on a lanyard hanging around your neck, you were escorted inside.

johnny was already waiting for you behind the doors. his arms were crossed over his chest, his foot tapping the floor in shortening intervals. he looked furious.

"what happened?" you asked.

"see for yourself," he said, leading you down the hall.

you held your breath as you watched him enter the infirmary, thinking something terrible had happened to simon. only to step in and find your man sitting on a gurney with his mask pulled above his nose, a young medic patting his face with a gauze drenched in antiseptic. price stood over him, watching him like an eagle.

"this bastard picked a fight with half the bloody base," johnny said, approaching him. the medic immediately pulled away and scurried to another injured soldier across the room.

simon's eyes locked on yours, flashing you a cold grin.

his mouth was full of blood.

"oh, piss off," johnny smacked his head. "nothing to smile about."

price turned around, greeting you with a brief nod. "your lad's been busy."

a beat.

"laid out three men. all his own."

you looked at the state of simon. he didn't seem to be in pain, but he never does. body full of adrenaline, his chest rose and fell quickly. his knuckles were violet, glistening with blood. all the while he stared at you with an unreadable look, his eyes void.

all you could manage was a single word. "why?"

he didn't respond.

johnny did. "because he's a moron, that's why."

simon shot him a glare.

"he's being pulled off active duty," price said. "ordered leave until next week."

he turned to look at simon, pausing for a short moment. "needs to get his head right."

"talk some sense through that thick skull of his, aye?" johnny looked at you.

you gave him a hesitant nod.

simon pulled his mask back down and stood up. he approached you with a limp. your eyes flashed with worry for the briefest second until he got close enough for you to wrap your arm around his lower back, supporting him. his muscles tensed, clearly uncomfortable with your touch.

your stomach twisted.

after saying goodbye, you held onto the forms they'd given him and led him to the car. once you were both seated, you spoke.

"so, what happened?"

"oh wow. she talks," he muttered, flat and cold.

"you're unbelievable," you glanced at him. "look at yourself."

he bit the inside of his cheek.

"tell me what happened," you tried again.

"you wouldn't understand."

"try me."

"figures," he said. "you always want to fix things you can't."

his words stabbed your chest. "i ask because i care, simon."

"i don't need your help."

"clearly."

the car fell silent, the buzz of the engine underlining the tension. you were hurt, replaying his words over and over in your head. tears stung your eyes and you desperately tried to blink them away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

the fight that had started all of this resurfaced in your mind. everything revolved around a stupid baking recipe you wanted to try with him. he screwed up the order of the ingredients. without a word, he dumped it all in the bin and turned his back to you, leaving the kitchen. like a child. you begged him to try again, but he was over it. telling you he wasn't built for this stuff. that he was not the man to bake cute shit with you. not the man to dance in the living room with you. not the man to braid your hair. 'maybe you should just find someone else.'

it was getting to your head. his tendency to sabotage himself. it was working.

he made you feel like you were incompatible.

but you weren't giving up just yet.

"i don't need to know why you lashed out today," you said. "just don't push me away."

he tensed for a moment.

but stayed silent.

the rest of the ride was miserable. neither of you said a word, not even when you got back home. he locked himself in the bathroom for an hour, during which you hastily packed the some of your stuff and disappeared.

three days had gone by.

you were staying at your friend’s studio. she offered to stay at her girlfriend's for the time being, giving you the space you needed. you hadn't heard from simon, and you felt pathetic for crying about it. he obviously couldn't care less that you left. so why was it so hard for you to do the same?

one evening, as you were picking out a movie to watch, your phone buzzed.

it was simon.

a picture of a full grocery bag in his hand, with the stupid recipe pinched between his fingers.

after he walked you home, earning himself a kiss on the cheek (it was his jaw actually, you couldn't reach any higher), he had to regain his composure. the unfamiliar feeling of general arousal made his skin itch, the wings fluttering in his stomach felt invasive. he wasn't used to this. his fragile, cracking walls begged for support, but he restrained the isolating thoughts. slowly, he accepted his mood and headed home. just as he was about to unwind on the couch, his phone buzzed. the sound froze him in place for a second.

you: tonight was amazing! would love to see you again

he bit his lip in thought as he stared at the screen.

simon: Ok.

you: ... ok?

his eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher your message. were you not satisfied with his answer?

simon: Me too.

that'll save it. surely.

the clock kept ticking. and his phone remained silent. checking it every few minutes, he grew restless, unable to concentrate on the tv. your perfume lingered in his nose; your beautiful face popped up everytime he closed his eyes.

you: same time tomorrow?

you: dinner's on me this time

simon: Absolutely not.

he shook his head with a smile on his face, catching a glimpse of the tv. as if expecting you to read his thoughts, he didn't bother to elaborate on that message. instead, he locked his phone and leaned back all satisfied, as he resumed pretending to watch the game while thinking about you.

you: oh?

you: i thought it was going well

that last message was your final straw. you understood he was old at heart, so overlooking the desert that were your DMs should've been easy. he was different in real life. quiet, sure, but warmth seeped from his eyes everytime he looked at you. he listened to everything you had to say, and actually remembered. even the smallest details you mentioned while nervously rambling. but Absolutely not? it felt like a splash of icy water in your face.

just as you were typing up your farewell text, all bitter, your screen turned dark. his name shined brightly in the middle as your phone vibrated.

you picked up.

"dinner. I meant- dinner," he said hurriedly. "um, paying for dinner, that is. yer not paying."

the tension in your stomach released, a relieved chuckle escaping your lips.

"tomorrow works for me." he added. "if I haven't fucked it up already."

"you haven't." with your bitter mood all gone, you offered him reassurance. "but please elaborate on your messages. it's hard to tell what you're thinking when you're sitting next to me, let alone over the phone."

he let out an amused breath. "I'll try, dove."

------

and try he did.

but the improvement was slow. though, what he lacked in his texting skills, he made up for tenfold whenever he was with you. making you feel like the reason for his existence. over time, you learned to imagine the loving look he gave his screen as he conjured up a string of dry words to send you.

you: where are you?

simon: On the motorway.

simon: Car crash.

your heart dropped. panicked, you ditched your shopping cart in the aisle and ran to your car, frantically searching for your keys. just before you dialed his number to ask for his exact location, your phone buzzed again.

a picture of an unfamiliar car flipped over on the road.

“shh,” ghost whispers as he sees your face contort into a painful grimace. your pussy writhes in pain as könig’s cock slides inside for the first time, splitting you open. tearing your walls. his big hands grip your hips for leverage and he soon picks up the pace, pounding you from behind.

you look up at ghost kneeling in front of you, your face level with his crotch. his cock is rock hard under his pants and he’s breathing heavy. enjoying the view. your head bobs back and forth with each of könig’s hard thrusts. “do you feel his cock stretching you out, little one?”

a loud moan falls from your lips as you nod, barely able to keep your eyes open. ghost’s hand reaches under you, finding home on your lower stomach. feeling the bulge könig’s cock creates with each thrust. he chuckles. “you poor thing.”

“fuck, LT. she’s so tight,” könig grunts from behind you, and you see the two men exchange a look. ghost’s lips turn into a content smile as he starts unzipping his pants. “you’re taking his cock so well, pet. such a good slut.”

ghost’s cock smacks your face as he pulls down his boxers, and you can’t help but moan against his shaft. he grabs it by the base and slowly traces your lips with his tip, smearing precum all over them. just as they open so another moan can fall out, ghost guides his dick down your throat. his hand runs through your hair, holding your head up as he starts fucking your mouth.

“arch that back for me more, liebling,” könig’s hand pushes on your lower back. this new position has his tip jabbing at your sweet spot over and over, and suddenly you feel your muscles tense up. that deep feeling of pressure building up in your core, along with könig slapping your ass has you moaning around ghost’s cock. and he seems to fucking love it. low grunts escape his mouth as he looks down at you, watching his cock disappear between your lips.

you’re close. oh, so close. your mind can barely focus on sucking him off, instead it’s picturing the way könig’s cock slides in and out of your pussy, making you feel good. so good. your mouth goes slack as the moans become more frequent and high-pitched. ghost notices. “are you gonna cum, sweetheart?”

he takes his cock out of your mouth and you gasp for air, letting out a desperate yes. you hear könig chuckle behind you. “already?”

“such a needy whore,” ghost smiles.

waiting for them to give you the green light, you try your best to hold back your orgasm. you focus on the harsh wood floors beneath your knees, the uncomfortable feeling in your neck… anything but their cocks. ghost knows what he’s doing, he’s looking at you with a smirk on his face. watching you try to resist.

just a little more…

“go on.”

finally.

you feel the pressure release as your body shudders, a wave of immense pleasure coursing through you. your pussy contracts around könig’s cock and he moans, slapping your ass and picking up the pace even more. pushing you further into bliss. ghost’s hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb pulling down your lower lip. “good girl.”

once you come down, ghost’s cock finds your mouth again, this time pushing even further down your throat. all the while könig continues slamming his hips into you, his breathing getting more and more erratic. his moans get more breathy, needy. he’s close.

you feel him bend down to you, his chest flush against your back, hot air fanning your ear. shivers run down your spine. it’s too much. your nose is buried in ghost’s abdomen while könig kisses your neck. both men are letting out low grunts, their breath hitching in their throat.

“i’m gonna cum inside you, engel,” könig whispers in your ear and you moan in response.

just as his thrusts become even faster, more urgent, you feel ghost’s hand on your chin. he tilts your head up slightly while still fucking your mouth, his eyes locking with yours. “look at me while he fills you up.”

so, you do. you flutter your lashes at him as könig grunts one more time before his cock twitches inside you, painting you white. you thought you couldn’t feel any fuller but once his cum spills inside, you are filled to the brim. the second he pulls out you feel the cum drip down your thighs and you moan at the feeling.

after all, you’re the only thing he cares about in his life, and he can’t imagine ever losing you, so how could he not take precautions against other men stealing what’s his? whenever you go out with your friends, he fights the urge to write his name across your chest with permanent marker. yes, he’s already carved out his initials on your thigh when he was fucking you, but would an extra reminder really do that much harm?

you often exploit the fact that he gets jealous easily, using it to your advantage because it’s a guarantee of raw, angry sex. primal. the kind of sex that will leave you sore for days, barely able to walk straight. the harsh swing of his hips, the feeling of his rock-hard cock splitting you open, the tight grip of his scarred hands on your neck… that’s something that can’t be recreated without him seeing other men flirt with you. a catalyst of sorts.

though, you do feel bad for the poor men you approach when ghost is watching. you have no idea what happens to them, but by the guttural growl that leaves simon’s chest as he’s dragging you to the car, you can’t imagine it’s any good. he always promises to take care of you first, then come back for them later.

just driving back to his place, he already has his hand tangled in your hair, gripping it so tight your scalp hurts. “bad fucking girl. always gotta go out of your way to make me jealous. do I not fuck you enough?”

safe to say, he drags you by the hair all the way to the bedroom, where he throws you on the bed like a ragdoll. his hands grip your waist as he manhandles you into any position he pleases, and you can’t do anything about it.

he wastes no time and slams his cock inside you, not giving you a single second to adjust as he starts pounding you into the mattress. seeing you whine and squirm under him as he fucks your pussy, he can’t help but mock you. “aww, is it too big, baby?”

his stamina is exceptional, and you’re usually on your fifth orgasm before he even starts getting close. at times like these, he sees it as a challenge to make you cum as many times as he can. he doesn’t care that by the end of it you’re a brainless mess, so fucked out you can barely move. he sees it as an accomplishment. “come on, one more. I know you can do it.” “that’s it, that’s my girl. fuck.”

would those men at the bar be able to fuck you like this? make you completely submit? absolutely not. simon is the only one that can make you feel this good. he knows your body better than you do, knows just how to angle his hips to make sure his cock hits your spot with each thrust. you’re his. his to fuck, his to please, his to punish. and he hates sharing.

he makes you scream his name as you cum on his cock one last time before burying himself balls deep, spilling inside. his cock twitches as your sore walls milk him of every drop, low grunts falling from his lips as he studies your face. your lids are half closed, eyes unfocused, and lips parted as you come down. he fucked you so good.