Lethargically Sloth

“Ghosts aren’t real” it’s very fair and rational that you believe that

“Ghosts aren’t real anymore” I’m about to hear a poem or very sad story

Your love life is amazing, the sex, even better.

He’s rough, and dominating, making you feel small and stupid in the best ways possible.

Allowing your thoughts to go quiet.

Tonight was a perfect night.

Well it was…

You lay in bed, your legs still shaking from the nth orgasm you had that night.

Your clothes are thrown, left forgotten somewhere in the corner of your shared room.

You’re completely alone.

Only for one reason.

Simon’s downstairs, grabbing you a glass of water after such a scene.

Tonight… he was rougher than usual.

Touching you with harsh hands, and speaking with mean words.

A look in his eye that you’ve never seen before.

Something that looked too closely to the way he would look at any other stranger.

It wasn’t much.

Just enough to make you wonder.

Enough to let thoughts spiral.

Enough to remember every command.

Every ache of your worn out body.

Your arms are littered in Simon’s fingerprints.

Bite marks throbbing on your shoulder and neck.

Your ass bright red from spankings.

You slowly roll over onto your side trying to relieve yourself of the sting.

It does little to help.

A small sound leaving your lips.

Did he mean it, when he called you a whore?

A piece of ass only meant to fuck?

Pathetic..?

Tears began to welt in your eyes before you knew what was happening. Your gaze fixed onto the wall.

The puddle forming under your cheek starts slow.

Quiet.

Simon walks back in, naked as the day he was born when his eyes find you.

He stops dead in his tracks.

You’re curled up on yourself, looking like a ghost.

You hear his steps quicken.

The glass clinks as it’s placed down.

His heart is racing in his chest as he approaches.

“Luvie…?”

His call is a whisper.

Your eyes slowly find his.

Cheeks beaten red, blotchy with tears.

His stomach drops.

“Y/n… talk to me.”

He sits down beside you, eyes scanning over your shaking form.

He knows something is wrong but doesn’t know what.

He didn’t do anything different tonight, not to his memory.

His hand lifts but hesitates, dropping back to his side.

“Are you okay.. did I hurt you?”

His voice wavers with concern.

Fear.

You can’t answer, your throat tightening at his worry.

Unable to meet his eyes, suddenly feeling guilty at your tears.

Your thoughts eat at you.

Were you being stupid?

Overdramatic?

Your mouth opens and only a broken sound comes out.

Simon reaches for his shirt sitting only a foot away, pulling it over your head.

You allow it, slipping your hands through the sleeves.

It’s big, like a dress on you.

Your eyes are still down in your lap.

He leans in, gently pulling your hair from your shirt without a word.

The gesture allows you to breathe.

Giving you some sense of security.

“M’ here luvie.. you can tell me anything.”

He whispers, his hand gently patting down your hair, soft like you’ll disappear if he touches you with too much pressure.

He’s close, but not suffocating you.

Giving you space to breathe, to process.

You’re quiet for a long moment. Leaning into the warmth of his hand as a comfort.

“Simon… you were.. really mean.”

You manage to get out, unable to look at him.

You pause the word feeling wrong on your tongue.

“Different..”

You choose instead.

He feels his blood run cold at your tone. So small, so unlike your bright self.

He begins to overthink, replaying everything he said, how he touched you.

His hand freezes on you for just a moment.

“My baby...”

His tone makes your eyes snap over to him.

His hand moves again, slowly moving down your cheek.

“I am so sorry… I never meant to hurt you..”

Even if he doesn’t fully understand, he knows enough.

“I was too rough on you..”

You wince as he gently caresses the inflamed skin he was once so rough to.

“May I.. hold you?”

His words come out small, hesitant to ask for more than he should.

You nod with a small sniffle.

He doesn’t wait a second.

Picking you up under your legs, pulling you into his warm chest.

His chin rests on top of your head as you breathe into him.

Your shoulders shaking with attempts to keep your cries in.

“It’s okay… let it out.”

He coos to you, his hand rubbing circles on your back. Big, slow motions. Warm and heavy on your clothed back.

Trying to apologize in every touch.

Every twitch of his fingers.

You breathe deeply, feeling like every pass of his hand only breaks the dam inside you further, until you just can’t take it.

You sob into him, loud and ugly.

Hiding your face into him as your entire body shakes.

He holds you tightly.

So tight, like he wants to pull you inside of him.

His heart pounding with worry.

God never again.

“M’ sorry… m’so sorry—“

You slur into his chest like a mantra.

His heart breaks a little.

He pulls you closer if that’s possible, murmuring in your hair.

“Shh..shh.. don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

He replies, calm and soft.

His hands going to your scalp, gently massaging.

You’re close enough you can hear his heartbeat.

It’s fast.

Despite such, he continues.

“Breathe for me luv.. breathe.”

He coaches… You listen.

He rests his cheek on your head, taking a breath of your hair, reeling in you.

Holding you together.

“I’m the one that should be apologizing.. you should never feel like this.. not with me.”

So gently, like you’re made of porcelain, he tilts your head up, collecting your tears.

“You are everything to me, my world, my entire heart. I thought you wanted to feel small under me…”

He pauses kissing your temple.

“If you don’t want that, it’ll never happen again.”

You shake your head, cheek moving against his palm.

You take his hand in yours, feelings swirling in your chest.

“I.. I do want that.. I like it when you’re mean.. sometimes..”

you speak softly, your eyes red rimmed, meeting his for a glimpse.

He waits…

Thinking…

You’re keeping something in, and he can see it.

“Then.. what’s got you like this..?”

He responds, his tone patient. Only for you.

His fingers tangling in your hair.

You pause, closing your eyes as you gather courage.

“I.. felt so alone.”

You whisper back to him.

His heart lurches at your tone.

His arms wrap around your shoulders.

His breath soft against the back of your head.

When he speaks again it’s hesitant. Careful.

“M’.. sorry dovie.. how can I help you now?”

You lean into him, more than grateful for his comfort.

“Love me..”

You whisper back, your eyes closing, a small frown on your lips.

He doesn’t respond verbally.

Taking the signs he leans in, kissing so softly over the bite mark he left on your shoulder.

Again, at the bruises on your arms.

Your fingertips.

Palm, wrist.

Loving you.

Fingers carefully moving against your sides, finding your sore hips.

Rubbing, massaging.

His hands pull you back into him. Whispering words of affection.

“My pretty baby.. always so good for me.. yeah?”

He asks, his hands pausing.

His honey eyes soften when they find yours.

“Say it, pretty… for me?”

His voice is low but so careful, in a way that makes your thoughts go quiet as you repeat his words.

“I was good… for you.”

you nod, feeling a tightness in your chest, a burn in your nose.

He holds you softly, his big hands moving down your thighs.

“I love you.”

He whispers into your skin.

Tears roll down your cheeks again.

This time, not out of pain, or insecurity.

But the way he loves you.

So sweetly kissing at every mark, every bruise, every affliction to your skin.

He shifts, pulling your back to his chest.

His hand wrapping around your jaw to make you look up at him.

His eyes serious, tone low.

“I love you, more than anything.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re never alone with me. I’m here with you, always. More than just sex. More than any scene.”

He promises you.

His rough but controlled, keeping eye contact.

He ends with a kiss to your wet cheek.

You nod up at him.

Your heart warming in your chest.

He wraps his arms around your middle, resting into you.

“Let me draw you a bath.. we can soak together… how does that sound luv..?”

He asks, barely a whisper.

You smile so softly..

The door shuts, and this time you don’t even try to be subtle. Breath heaving as bags hit the bed with a thump. You kick your shoes off and fix your hair. As you move around the room in a hurry, you catch your reflection in the mirror and pause.

Ohh Yeah. This wasn’t just shopping baby ,this was strategy.

You prep yourself as if you were about to enter a warzone. knuckles cracking , you peak into the living room.

Simon's home. Of course he is. Sitting somewhere like a statue that decided violence was a hobby.

You rummage through the dumped bags on the bed, heart doing something annoyingly dramatic, and start pulling things out. Outfits. Wayy too many outfits. This was supposed to be “just a quick trip.”, Sure. A few minutes later, you step into the living room, heart giddy.

Simon’s on the couch, leaning back, arms crossed, mask off staring at the literal wall like he hasn’t moved in hours. His eyes flick up the second you enter. “You rob a store?” he mutters in that gravel like voice.

You spin once flicking your hair away , a little dramatic. “Fashion show. Sit properly.”

He doesn’t move. “…Please.” you pout at him , half knowing he would definitely fall for it.

A beat.

Then he shifts, eyes narrowing ,elbows on knees now, attention locked in. “Go on then.”

"that's more like it!", you chime as you lean in to leave a peck on his cheek, earning a low grunt.

Outfit one.

Something casual. a low cut top and flared jeans. You do a small turn, trying to act confident even though you can feel his gaze.

He tilts his head slightly, leaning back against the couch.

“hmm...nice,” he says, low and approving and absolutely dangerous for your ego. You practically run back to the room , trying not to smile, already excited for the next one.

Outfit two.

You get your hands on the flowy dress. it was more body hugging , more...appreciative of you.

You step out again, slower this time. His eyes drag over you, jaw tightening slightly as you turn and yeah, okay, that reaction was worth every dollar you probably shouldn’t have spent.

“Turn around love.”, he drawled ,one arm stretched along the couch. And you do, slower than necessary.

“… oh yeah...,” he mutters, almost to himself. That does something to your brain chemistry, raising goosebumps across your exposed skin.

you hurry back to the room , trying to hide the blush creeping in.

Outfit three.

This, was the final one. The one which would decide your fate, knowing you would end up being fucked either on the couch or if you're lucky....bent over on the table. And oh did the lingerie piece add fuel to the fire.

You walk toward him this time instead of staying across the room, the skimpy red fabric accentuating every dip and curve. You stand little closer, practically between his legs.

Simon didn’t say anything immediately. Which is worse, because his eyes were saying plenty.

You stop right in front of him. “Well?”, your voice coming out more breathy than expected.

His hand comes up, slow, grazing your hips ,resting at your waist. The weight of his hands just...there.

“Think you bought too much,” he mutters, drawing slow circles on your exposed thigh.

You blink rapidly ,“Excuse me?” ,did he not like the show that you put on for him?

His thumb presses lightly against your side, massaging you through the cloth. your breath catches.

“…or maybe not.”

“So?” you say, softer now.

He looks up at you, eyes dark, unreadable in that way that’s somehow worse than obvious.

“Keep all of it.”

“ That good of a show huh?” you tease, earning a rare smirk from him, already feeling him slide your panties down.

“Best one I’ve seen.”

Which was impressive, considering the man probably has seen actual combat zones and still decided this was the most intense experience of his day.

Honestly. You win.

oh, and you did end up getting your brain fucked out on the couch.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.

The room felt too still.

You sat on the edge of the bed, phone in your hand, staring at your own reflection on the screen like it might suddenly offer better judgment. It didn’t, obviously.

Somewhere out there, Simon was doing what he always did. Dangerous missions, zero sleep, acting like he didn’t need anyone. Which was funny, considering how quiet everything felt without him.

You tilted your head, adjusting the angle, then hit record.

For a second, you just looked into the camera. Not saying anything. Letting the silence sit, like you knew he’d notice it.

“Hi,” you started softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Bet you weren’t expecting this.”

You shifted slightly, propping yourself on the bed , eyes still fixed on the lens like it was him.

“You’ve been gone a while,” you continued, voice lighter now, teasing creeping in. “Kinda rude, honestly.”

A pause. You let out a quiet breath, glancing away for a second before looking back. The black lace that you wore suddenly felt a lot heavier.

“I was thinking…” you said slowly, fiddling with the top strings, “maybe you forgot what I look like.”

Your lips curved, just a little more this time.

“So I thought I’d remind you.”

You leaned a bit closer to the camera, cleavage clearly visible, enough for anyone to get the idea.

"i really miss you....", you murmured as your breath heaved , "especially, right now.."

"but you know where i miss you the most..", your hand trailed towards your covered entrance, circling the clit, "rightt, here."

you turned your ass towards the camera , legs spread apart. "the house feels so empty without you...", you trailed on as you pulled the lacy thongs down.

The feeling of the cold air hitting your wet pussy was enough to make you shiver. you arched your back for a better view, hoping the slick was visible on camera.

You turn in front of the camera again , fingers finding your clit almost instantly.

"I love it when you do this...", you mutter as you play with your clit in swift motion, eliciting quiet moans.

"Look how wet she is, she misses you baby",you mumble, gesturing at the puffed lips.

You plunge two fingers in , tilting your head back , the other hand playing with your clothed breast.

"oh god...i really wish these were your fingers..", you whimper as you pump in swift motions.

you slap your clit with your palm, and just like that , fluid trickles down your slit, body convulsing.

you pant as you crawl near the camera to lick your fingers. "wish this was you ,huh?", you tease.

You laugh softly under your breath, shaking your head.

“Don’t get used to it,” you murmured, tone gentler now. “Just figured you might need something… normal. For once.”

Your expression softened.

“Come back in one piece, yeah?” you added quietly. “I’m not sending another one if you don’t.”

The teasing slipped back in at the last second.

“Actually, that’s a lie. I probably would.”

You reached forward, about to stop the recording, then hesitated.

“…miss you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

PDA is way off the table, even around his mates, for the most part, he looks all but indifferent to you. Especially at the beginning of your relationship. The only indication that he has some regard for you is that he had a tendency to stare.

On your first dates, he would stare. He would speak quietly, and in short sentences. If you didn’t know Simon as a person like you did (you were introduced by a mutate friend before you started dating) you’d say he was wholly uninterested in you.

But he’s not. His eyes were either on you, or checking the exits. He was feeling you out. Observing. Which would be the common theme of most if your dates: in an insignificant spot, his face covered with a surgical mask, watching you like a hawk.

His activities weren’t much better either. His idea of “quality time” is sprawling on the couch, turning on Man Uni and calling you into the room to sit next to him. Sure, bring your phone too, he doesn’t mind. If he’s in a good mood, he’ll probably explain to you what’s happening. Quality time also applied in the car. You were going to listen to his nü metal,and you were going to like it. Maybe, you’d find a calloused hand on your leg.

So, painfully mediocre on the surface level.

But here’s the thing: if you look past his indifference, he will mirror your reciprocations to your interest. Say you’re on the couch before him, and watching Drag Race UK. This time, he’ll sit with you, without complaint. If you’re driving, he’ll listen to whatever you’ll listen to.

Something people tend to overlook about Simon is how guarded of a man he is. Even around people he’s supposed to trust with his life. (For the most part, he doesn’t trust the 141 with his face.) He’s the kind of man who you truly need to know as a person and know that his aloofness is not personal. It’s him protecting himself.

He’s the kind of boyfriend that rehearses what he wants to say to you someday when you fall asleep against his arm. The type who isn’t embarrassed to bring you around his mates, because you’re simply another person close to him. He’s the boyfriend with the perpetual scowl when his partner is next to him, in public, or otherwise, but in actuality, he’s having the time of his life, and is enjoying your company so deeply.

On the outside, a horribly bothered RBF. In reality, on the inside, “this is my bird. I love her so much.”

| roommate!könig × fem!reader | wc: 2.4k |

[cw: male masturbation, perv behaviour, plus size!reader, obsessed and pathetic König]

Having König as a roommate was certainly not for the weak, he would disappear for months during deployment and come back to your shared apartment like nothing had happened. He would always come back with new scars and bruises, his eyes fixed on the floor as he made a beeline to his own room but the tension was evident from how his shoulders were stiff and his body never seemed to fully relax.

You picked up on his habits fairly quickly; he lived off of bread and bland or ready-made meals, he liked scalding hot showers and usually spent what felt like an eternity in there while you would be on the other side of the door, shouting at him to hurry up because you'd be late for work. Despite being incredibly avoidant out of pure social anxiety, you often caught him stealing glances at you. He barely talked without stuttering or mumbling something in German or the words were so jumbled up that it's basically incoherent. It was strangely endearing to see a large military man so awkward and bashful.

König, himself, didn't exactly know how he managed to get such a normal roommate. He always assumed that he'd have to live with another hardened or emotionally unavailable man, not some woman that lived an ordinary life. It definitely didn't help that König had always found you alluring, your plush thighs, the outline of your abdomen that caught his attention whenever you'd wear tighter clothes, full cheeks that painted you in a cherubic light but he knew that you had an authoritative streak from how you never thought twice of berating him if he was careless or got on your nerves from all the staring he does. He wanted you all to himself, to bury his needy cock in you while you ran your fingers through his hair, he wanted - needed - you.

While you only saw König as a socially awkward and a bit creepy giant that was easily flustered, König was an absolute degenerate behind those shy eyes and mask. While you were at work, busying yourself with whatever paperwork your boss had in store for you for the day, König snuck into your room, eyes scanning the space before settling onto the laundry basket. His steps were silent, body moving in instinct as he stopped at the pile of dirty clothes, his hands twitching at his sides. A shuddering breath left his lips, picking up a pair of used panties and holding it up to his face, taking a deep inhale.

“Liebling…” He muttered, relishing in the dizzying scent. He knew should just put your panties down and do something, anything else, but he wanted you so much it hurts. And the closest thing he had to your body were the panties he was holding.

His cock was already hard, precum staining the front of his sweatpants. König’s hand pulled it down, freeing his aching cock. Precum beaded on his fat pink tip, glistening in the low light of your bedroom. He spit onto his palm, slowly wrapping his hand around his cock while he kept your panties to his face. The first stroke was slow and deliberate, making his whole body shudder. Each thrust made his cock pulse, eyes shutting tightly as he continued the almost bruising pace. All he could muster up was your name, rolling off his tongue quietly yet desperately. His own saliva soaked through the fabric of your panties, rolling down his chin from the corner of his mouth.

He could feel the climax coming closer and closer, an addictive heat coiling in his abdomen, begging to be released. “Mmf-! L-love…” He mumbled as he reached his orgasm, hips jerking forward and thick white ropes of cum spurting onto the rest of your laundry pile. König's body trembled as he tried to get his breathing back to normal, his hand was still around his cock and the other clutching your underwear. His eyes were glassy and it took him a few minutes to fully register what he had just done. Almost immediately, his eyes widened, seeing the absolute mess he made on your clothes.

“F-fuck," He grunted, automatically using your panties to try to wipe off his cum but his attempt only made the mess worse, which fueled König's panic. It didn't help that the sight of your panties now covered with his cum made him horny all over again, maybe he could have another round before you came home and scolded him in horror...?

PART 2!!! :-D