#clearing drafts

Being enrolled into kindergarten and being surrounded by neurotypicals surely did something to your development. Whether bad or good is up for debate.

You don't remember having many friends as a child, every invite paseed over your head with whispers of your name kept in secrecy. The talks afterwards coming in repetitions of "you should have been there."

You were teased, and even when friends tried to give you gifts, you couldn't distinguish the pain you were in with the kindness you were given, destroying what was given to you.

You remember being friends with one girl, pale skin, blue eyes. She cared for you, laughing at your jokes and staying with you when you tripped and skinned your knee. Fifth grade she dropped it on you that it was all just pity, and that pathetic, confused heart of yours shattered.

You became cold afterwards, the first year of middle school spent isolating yourself from teachers and friends. You'd stand coldly, barely try, act like a smartass while knowing nothing, pissing everyone around you until you were left with nothing.

When you joined the military, you had some of your shit personality beaten out of you; learned to bite your tongue and listen when your sergeant commanded. Surprisingly, and I mean surprisingly, you lived through the suffering and decided on your own whim to continue improving as a soldier.

Becoming highly respected in your class, astounding to your peers and superiors, it almost made you cocky. When you were accepted into Task Force 141, an elite, multinational, special operations unit, you believed your life could never get better. You made easy friends with many of the operators, though you could never get through to the top few.

Simon "Ghost" Riley, a highly feared lieutenant in his groups, his background barely known to anyone and you wouldn't dare challenge your already fragile acquaintance by asking questions. You were sure that, like most soldiers at his rank, his past couldn't be sweet.

Even so, it was odd.

He wasn't ecstatic in any sense, not a dog who would run up and wag his tail. He was almost painfully quiet, yet was stationary enough to have one-sided conversations with anyone but you. Even his sergeants would be consistently talking with him, and at least earned the grace of a hum from him.

He spent all day in the gym, barely ate outside of the mess hall, too. So you, very inconspicuously, began appearing in his usual spots. You attempted to strike conversation through sets, gave him food, and people pleasing. Still, not even a grunt. A few sidelong glances (glares?) here and there, but no verbal approval from him!

You looked to Soap for support, and he told you it was just part of his charm, giving no other hints besides that. Eventually, even you were fed up. You didn't want to become a liability to the team, and you knew sucking up and bottling your emotions wouldn't make them go away. All you wanted was some form of verbal confirmation that he either liked or didn't like you.

While he was refilling his water-bottle, gaze steel as he watched the water slowly fill. Seemingly absent in thought, he jumped when you came to his side.

"Lieutenant."

He stared down at you, eyes slightly wide before hardening to a glare. The action only set you off more.

"What is your issue with me?" You begin and hesitate. "I mean, I get it if you dislike me for whatever personal reason, but I at least deserve a proper response from you. Boundaries are important, and I'd like if you verbally state them when it came to me. Unless you expect me to take your silence for word? Like a child?"

You didn't mean your words to come out so harsh, and you knew you'd likely face repercussions for it, but you were sick of it!

Ghost stares at you for a second longer than comfortable. He's still, eerily so, like he's a sniper waiting for his target. It's times like these you wished desperately you could read into whatever could be going on in his head. Was he angry? Was he guilty? Was he going to have you removed? Shit, you fucked up.. fuck fuck fuck fuck

"I'm sorry."

You nearly choked.

You both held eye contact for a while, the water cooler bubbling softly in the background.

"What?"

Now it was his time to freeze up. You could see his Adam's apple bob nervously.

"I didn't mean to create and dissonance between us. Apologies."

You nodded vaguely, still on guard, waiting for the shoe to drop. Though it never did.

He walked off after a few awkward seconds, leaving you to process what had happened.

simon is the kinda man who dives straight into you’re cunt before anything else. eats like a man starved, as you beg him to feed his cock into your mouth. pushing your hands against the rough sheets, dragging your sore hips away from his ceaseless hunger. only for his hands to tug you farther on his tongue than before.

it’s even more cruel that from there he slips his cock into your drooling cunt. fucks you deep and slow while you claw and bite and moan because he’s forcing you to be the focus.

and just before all of this insanity swallows your mind, he pulls out, flips you over, and shoves his wet cock down your throat. fucks it ruthlessly, til the tears start mixing with the sweat on your brow. only then does he come on your gums.

you never even get a chance to share the spotlight. sore body, sorer ego, as he cleans your drooling cunt with a cloth, kissing your knee and promising next time he’ll let you suck him off properly.

Ayo Edebiri as Sydney Adamu in Worms