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yuwuta · 9 months

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RODEO STATION, 2 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

A collection of you and Megumi through the years, through Gojo’s eyes.

content, warnings: childhood friends to lovers, canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique sort of delved into here

word count: 2.2k

part ii: you and megumi are ten, tsumiki is eleven, gojo is twenty-ish?, about six or seven months after gojo meets all of you, and adopts megumi and tsumiki. you can read part one here

The moment that Satoru met him, he knew that Megumi was a little troublemaker and there was little he could do to stop that. Satoru didn’t mind for the most part, and he couldn’t blame the kid either—honestly, he was more surprised that Megumi didn’t routinely get himself into more trouble, but he supposes he has you and Tsumiki to thank for that.

He’d naively believed that you and Tsumiki both played the role of anchoring maternal figure for Megumi, but it only takes a few weeks for Satoru to learn that it’s Tsumiki that serves as the anchor for you two. Satoru then earnestly wonders if you were bullying Megumi with the way you’re able to keep him under your thumb, but when Megumi adamantly refutes this with the nastiest, most offended scowl Satoru’s ever seen on a kid before, he backs off and reasons that this is just how your relationship with Megumi works.

And, as it turns out, Megumi is the only one doing any sort of bullying. He’s ten and Satoru has been to more parent-teacher conferences than any other parent has ever possibly attended in their lifetime. He didn’t even know that it was possible for kid his age to get kicked out of school, especially at this point in the year. There’s only three months left until summer vacation, so Satoru enlists Ieiri’s help in enrolling Megumi into public school to finish out fifth grade. She also reassures him that this separation from you and Tsumiki is temporary, and that you would all be able to attend middle school together again in the fall.

The major problem then becomes that you all get dismissed at different times. You and Tsumiki used to end your days at the same time, but Tsumiki starts staying late to take piano lessons. However, this is remedied by the mother of a friend of Tsumiki’s, who drives her home afterwards; an older woman that Satoru becomes eternally grateful for. Even so, you’re dismissed thirty minutes before Megumi, and some shuffling has to be done to align your commutes. Satoru knows that the three of you took yourselves to and from school before he came into the picture, and that most kids your age are more than capable getting home on their own, but after you told him that some old man from the Kamo clan came to talk to you after school one day, he can’t help but to worry.

Satoru isn’t your guardian, not in the way that he is for Megumi and Tsumiki, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel responsible for you—morally, financially, emotionally, and more importantly, for his own safety because he knows he’d have both Divine Dogs biting at his ankles if something curse-related happened to you and he didn’t do anything to stop it.

You were currently under the care of your elderly great aunt who hadn’t a shred of cursed energy from what Satoru could tell. He had Principal Yaga do a background check, and found no other sorcerers in your immediate family, nor any traceable Kamo relatives, and more importantly, you didn’t possess any sort of Blood Manipulation technique. Satoru’s seen what you can do so far to control water, has even seen you give the Divine Dogs trouble in a gentle sparring match—you’re impressive, even at your young age, so he can understand why a powerful clan might see the potential in you, but the Kamo clan isn’t historically welcoming of outsiders. If you’re not related to them, he can’t fathom why any member would physically approach you.

The old man never revealed his name to you, but Satoru’s certain it’s either a clan elder, or the current head himself; neither of which bring him any comfort. In the spirit of their traditional ways, he doubts anyone would actually try to harm you out in the open, but Satoru still wants to keep you on close watch for a little while. He thinks he’s the best man for the job. He’s quickly proven otherwise.

He exorcises curses with a bit of hastiness and little tact in order to be there when you get dismissed from school. Ieiri says it’s creepy to follow you from a distance, but Satoru is just doing what he can to protect you. If somebody else is following you, he wants to see who they are. They’ll never approach or reveal themselves if he hovers next to you, and if you half the pride that Megumi has, you’d run him out of town if he ticked you off by playing overprotective big brother—so, instead, he positions himself far enough away to observe you, and close enough to defend if need be.

He never needs to.

For as wild and boisterous as you are with Megumi and Tsumiki, you follow a simple, quiet after school routine. You walk with Tsumiki and her friends to the west gate to drop them off at piano practice, then cross the street to buy a snack—this differs, but you always get a carton of strawberry milk—and then walk to the train station. It’s a ten minute walk from your school to the station, and a fifteen minute walk from Megumi’s school to the station, which is why Satoru doesn’t quite know how the kid manages to keep you waiting for only seven minutes on average when he already gets out of school thirty minutes after you.

Once he gets over the initial shock, he can’t help but to be amused. He knows that when Megumi first changed schools, he started meeting you on the train, two stops later—at the one closer to his new school. But in the last week, Megumi has walked himself seventeen blocks east, at what Satoru guesses must be an inhuman pace, just to meet you at the station closest to you.

When two weeks have passed since the unknown Kamo elder has contacted you, and no other incidents have occurred, Satoru resigns his position as perimeter watchdog. He has a bunch of missions to catch up on anyway, and he figures that you and Megumi are safe in each other’s care for now.

A few weeks later, after catching up on his assignments, Satoru decides to check back in. He knows he doesn’t have to, but something in his stomach is telling him to. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the curse he fought earlier today had some kind of toxic blood that has him thinking the worst could happen to you, or getting a call that Megumi had been cutting some of his classes, or that he’s tired and delusional and worried and scared, or maybe it’s just his blooming maternal instincts telling him something is wrong, but he rushes to spy on your commute home.

He’s late. Megumi isn’t with you, and you’re already on the train when he makes it to the station and he can sense two sources of cursed energy trailing way too close behind you just as the train doors shut. His mind is racing irrationally—is this an unusual move by the Kamo clan, or perhaps someone else? Word had certainly gotten around that he’d picked up Toji Fushiguro’s kid, plus another kid with immense cursed potential, and Satoru himself and the Gojo clan have more than enough enemies. Whatever it may be, he doesn’t take his chances, using his newly honed short-range teleportation skills to make it to the next station before the train can.

He’s panting, thinking about every worst possible scenario at once, wondering how to best deal with whoever or whatever was targeting you, especially in such a crowded place, wondering if you’re safe, if Megumi was safe—why wasn’t he with you? Has someone already gotten to him, too? Was Tsumiki even at piano practice? Oh god, if he hasn’t already been kidnapped, Megumi is totally going to kill him if something happens to you.

Satoru rushes onto the train as soon as the door opens, eyes wildly scanning for you through the crowd, ready to strike when he finally finds you—seated towards the back of the car, reading the book that Tsumiki had loaned to you, quietly, and both the black and white Divine Dogs sitting on either side of you.

And Satoru has to laugh at himself. If he’d stopped for even a moment (or if he’d gotten more than two hours worth of sleep in the past three weeks trying to make up all his assignments), he’d have recognized Megumi’s residuals, would have recognized the energy of the dogs, and would have pieced together that there wasn’t a single threatening aura in the vicinity.

Oopsies.

“Gojo?” you call to him, not too loud as to not to disturb everyone else’s commute. “How come you’re here?”

Satoru shuffles through the crowd and holds onto the overhead rail once he’s next to you. The white dog moves to settle underneath your short legs, blinking at him with disinterest. “Got off a little early today, thought I’d surprise you brats, that’s all,” he says, then motions to the dogs next to you, “Where’s Megumi?”

You blink at him. Satoru knows you probably don’t believe him, but you spare him the embarrassment when you don’t push it further. “He had to make up a credit today, so he’s getting on at the next stop. Do you want a sandwich? They only had ones with peppers today, so Megumi won’t eat it, but Mr. Teuchi gave me two, anyway.”

“What, is he allergic or something?” Satoru questions, accepting your offer, and the seat next to you when he starts to unwrap the sandwich.

“No, he’s just picky,” you tell him, closing your book to unwrap yours, too. You’re quiet, taking your first two bites, before you turn to him again, “How did you know Megumi was missing?”

Satoru chokes. It gains him a few concerned stares, and even a pointed ear from the black dog, before he regains his composure. “Um... he tells me usually he follows you home from the other stop, that’s why.”

“Then why didn’t you try to surprise us at the other stop?”

Satoru pauses again. Since when did ten year olds get so lippy and observant? “I did, but I was late. So I sort of,” Satoru leans down, crinkling the empty sandwich wrapper in his right hand and uses his left to beckon you towards him to whisper, “Teleported here.” He pulls back, prideful, and crosses his legs, “Pretty cool, right?”

“So, why didn’t you just teleport to the first station when you realized you were going to be late?” You question, mocking his whispering tone when you repeat the word.

“Hey, you think doing that kind of stuff comes automatically? I can’t just pop up anyplace at any time,” Satoru groans, a bit overdramatically, “Not yet, anyway. I’ll be able to do that soon.”

You hum, kicking your legs happily as you take another bite out of your snack. “I think I get it. Megumi says it’s hard spreading out and controlling your cursed energy over long distances, but he’s been practicing hard. He can send the dogs way far away from him now.”

“I see,” Satoru turns his chin down, eyeing the Divine Dogs with a gentle smile. He almost says that it’s easier to send shikigami on their own, especially those like Megumi’s, and particularly when you anchor them to another source of cursed energy such as yourself, but you look way too proud of Megumi for him to burst your bubble. He also declines to say that Megumi probably doesn’t send the dogs to you on days like this just for the sake of practicing.

A crush isn’t quite exactly the motivation Satoru pictured when he told Megumi he’d have to work hard and get strong, but whatever works, works.

Ten minutes later, the train comes to a steady halt. Megumi is the first new passenger on board, and unlike Satoru, he doesn’t need to turn his head wildly, every which way to find you. You’re like a beacon to Megumi, he easily finds the both of you in the last seats in the car, and steadily makes his way to you.

Megumi greets you before he greets Satoru, taking the seat across and facing you before he turns to the taller man with a much less receptive frown, “What are you doing here?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is hello, Megumi,” Satoru teases, reaching across to ruffle his already unruly hair. Megumi grumbles, batting his offending hand away.

“Gojo ate your sandwich,” you chirp.

“What?” Satoru yells, incredulous, “I did not. You gave it to me—tell him!”

You have much more fun watching Satoru scramble than defending his honor. It’s only when Satoru gives his best pout that you admit to Megumi that you offered up his sandwich, consoling him with the fact that it included his least favorite ingredient and making it up by pulling out two cartons of strawberry milk for him. Megumi accepts them both with quiet thanks, cheeks growing pink to match the cartons, and you smiling widely when he takes his first sip.

Satoru had a hunch those were for Megumi. So, this isn’t one-sided. Good for you kids.

It’s another twenty-six minutes before it’s time for you all to get off the train. The Gojo-Fushiguro residence and your great aunt’s house are in opposite directions, but are both just a short five minute journey from the station exit. One you can certainly make on your own, and still, Megumi insists that you let the dogs walk with you and that he’ll release them once you’re home.

“It’s good practice,” Megumi mumbles, shooing you on your way uphill, “I want to know how long I can keep them out, too.”

You have that same look on your face that you had earlier, like you don’t quite believe Megumi, but just as with earlier, you don’t say anything, sparing Megumi and Satoru a formal goodbye and a wave before heading home. Satoru and Megumi turn to walk back to their own house, he can’t help but to smile every time Megumi turns his head to look back at your silhouette.

Satoru decides that you’re not Megumi’s anchor, you’re the lighthouse that guides him to shore, a light that he follows with faith and reason; a safe haven that Megumi seeks to protect. Satoru can admire that, but he wonders what happened that could make the most unruly kid he knows pledge his allegiance like that. Megumi would have refused Satoru’s aid if he hadn’t agreed to let you stay in his life, and although he’d chalked it up to puppy love before, Satoru’s beginning to wonder if there’s anything he, or anyone, even could do to separate the two of you.

Likely not, he concludes, when two weeks later, your class goes on a field trip and Megumi is the one who comes home exhausted and crashes onto the couch immediately. When Satoru asks, all he gets is a tired grunt; but shortly after Megumi falls asleep, he can feel a few extra shadows at his feet, and a glimpse of the white dog before she completely vanishes into the darkness.

Satoru chuckles, leaning down to ruffle Megumi’s hair before heading to the kitchen to make a snack for Tsumiki. If this is the rate that Megumi trains to keep his loved ones protected, then Satoru has no worries about him getting strong enough to keep up with him.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fluff #jjk scenarios #jjk smau #jjk fake texts #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [6]

pet!au part 6 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list | early access available on patreon

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cw: overall theme of non-con, dub-con medication taking, mouth inspection, lots of exposition

Everything hurts when you wake up.

Though you’re plagued by an ache that targets your hips, shoulders, and back, it’s namely your throat that hurts the most, which is something to be said considering you’ve been sleeping in a kennel for the last week. It’s a surprisingly spacious cage, tucked into the far corner of the bedroom across from the large bed Johnny and Simon sleep on. A small, foam pad fits perfectly inside of the bottom of the cage, providing you with some cushioning between your body and the frigid, metal bottom of the cage, but it’s certainly far from humane. There’s not enough room for you to stand up in it, but you’re grateful to at least be able to stretch the full length of your legs out.

It’s jerry-rigged, you’re sure of it. Not store bought, but handmade with spare metal bars and a half decent welding job. By the size of it, you’re certain it used to hold something much larger than yourself. As for what — or who — it was, you don’t even want to venture a guess. Every night, Simon locks you in with a padlock, trapping you for the hours everyone is asleep. You wake each morning with a full bladder, but he wakes you up no later than six in the morning, allowing you to use the bathroom before he starts getting ready for his day.

In some ways, Simon is considerate like that. Always ensuring you’re not going too long without any sort of need. Never starves you, or has done anything to intentionally cause devious harm. But there are many instances where he is not so generous.

Like last night, when Johnny got needy. He had complained something fierce the first night Simon locked you up. The man can hardly go a few hours without needing to put his hands on you in some capacity, and you took note of the way his blue eyes grew misty seeing you locked away out of his reach. Simon assured him it was only a temporary solution until he could get you fixed — which you’re still too scared to ask what getting you fixed means — but that could only quell Johnny’s emotions for so long.

He had lasted six days before he needed to put his hands on you again. To his credit, you had expected him to crack significantly sooner, and a part of you wished he had. Perhaps he would have been easier on your throat if you hadn’t pitifully shrugged off all his attempts he passed at you during the daytime while Simon was away. It all came to a head last night when Simon was getting ready to lock you away until morning when Johnny decided he just couldn’t handle it anymore.

Johnny has a way of begging that makes you feel bad for him, and Simon has a gaze that tells you it would be stupid to refuse his favorite pet. So you obeyed. Got on your knees like a good pet while Johnny abused your throat with his cock. You’ve gotten better at not crying when it happens, and he’s gotten better about letting you breathe while he uses you. Still, your eyes water on their own volition, blurring your view of Johnny above you and Simon behind him, going about his nightly routine as if you’re not being torn to shreds on the bedroom floor.

You’re still feeling the effects of it this morning as Simon unlocks your cage and allows you to relieve yourself in the restroom. In a way, it almost feels like strep. Raw skin sticks to itself, and you try your best to choke the ache to soothe the pain, but it always seems to come back. It dries and cracks, and you’re wholly surprised that you can’t taste blood when you swallow.

Breakfast that morning is the same as it usually is: eggs, toast, milk, bacon, sausage — everything fresh and homemade. Simon insists that the three of you sit at the table for every meal as if he’s afraid you’ll choke and die off without him. No one makes conversation, and if anything is said, it’s usually some sort of comment made by Johnny. He thanks Simon for the food, and compliments how juicy the bacon is before he silences himself by eating. All you do is keep your head down and attempt to keep the attention off of you.

It’s a strange thing, surviving in that place. You exist so quietly you hardly feel like you’re in your own body. In order to live, you have to play the part. The chew toy. The pet. Bonnie. It’s a balancing act between remembering who you are, and behaving well enough that Simon has no reason to punish you. Whether you like it or not, it’s easy math. You stand no chance of escaping that place on your own. Still, as you pick at your eggs and nibble on your toast, you quietly promise to yourself that you’ll get out of there one day. No matter what it takes.

Something’s different when Simon leaves for work today. Johnny’s not hounding you the moment the door shuts. Usually, he demands that you sit with him to watch a movie of some sort on the countless DVD’s and VHS tapes stored on old bookshelves in the living room. It’s not a terrible way to pass the time, and there are a few movies you rather enjoy. Every now and then you’ll fall asleep and wake up with his hands groping your chest or shoved down your pants like you’re some play-thing, but he’s oddly quiet this time.

Once breakfast is finished, he takes his plate, cleans it up and then leaves you alone after giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek. His figure vanishes down the hallway that leads to the back of the house — a place you have yet to explore. His disappearance is marked by the shutting of a very squeak door, and you finally feel like you can breathe easier. You’re not curious enough to follow him, and you’re certainly not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. A moment of peace and quiet in your life is rare these days when you’re too busy playing the pliable fawn so that you’re not hurt — or worse.

Enjoying your rare solitude, you take refuge by the open window in the living room. There’s an old recliner that smells vaguely like oak and grass that you like to curl up in while you read one of the old classical books Simon has stored next to the fireplace. It’s been a few days since you’ve really been able to get a breath of fresh air, but it doesn’t do much to calm your nerves. Though you’ve been there for a week, it’s strenuous trying to comprehend the situation you’ve found yourself in. Your fingers fiddle with your name tag as you rest your eyes from reading and look out at the trees that line the edge of the property, lush with the summer heat and rain.

It’s an enticing view with foliage that dances freely in the breeze. Grass and moss covers the field haphazardly, covering everything in a soft blanket of vibrant green. It whispers for you to run toward it and never look back. To soak in the feeling of the earth between your bare toes.

You know better than to run from a man who already has your scent memorized.

Your mind flashes back to the bath Simon gave you a few days ago, where he had you get dressed in clothes you already owned, and washed you with the same soap you’ve been using for years. How many signs did you miss? How long did you live in blissful ignorance to the insidious intentions that were being planned for you? Would you still be at home right now, safe in your own bed away from these freaks had you done anything different? Or were you always destined to be stuck there? Locked away in some home. How cruel and fickle fate can be.

Simon smells like blood and muscle when he gets home. You’ve gathered from the fresh nicks on his knuckles and old scars that litter his hands that he does some sort of blue-collar work. Judging by the fact he always seems to come home with some type of meat to cook up for dinner, you’re guessing he’s a butcher. You wonder if that’s why he’s keeping you and Johnny. Perhaps something in that twisted, stupid brain of his is unable to love the animals he tears apart limb by limb. Maybe he keeps you in order to cover up his guilt.

When Johnny emerges from whatever room he had holed himself up in for the entire day, he’s disheveled. Messy, black strands of hair stray flippantly from the shape of his mohawk, and the sides of his hands are darkened with some sort of grey dust. It reminds you of the graphite stains you would get as a kid practicing writing skills in school. Still, he’s all giggles and grins for Simon as he rubs up against him. Sickeningly loyal. Such a good dog.

He stays just as close and attached to Simon all throughout dinner, and just like you did that morning, you keep your head down while you eat. If Johnny wants to play the part of the devoted pet, that’s fine by you. Anything to keep Simon’s burning gaze away from you.

As he eats his meal, you wonder if he dreams of cutting you up. Shredding tendon from bone and shoving you into his maw like you’re a well deserved meal. You wouldn’t put it past him, that type of violence. He’s been more than content with collaring you and treating you like an animal, it would make sense. You wonder if he likes playing with his food before he eats.

“Bonnie.”

There’s hardly enough time for you to wash your plate after dinner before Simon’s demanding your attention. Despite the insane size of this man, he has an odd ability that allows him to sneak around the house nearly undetected, and by the time you turn around to answer him, he’s already in your space. You swallow as you look up at him. That terrible rawness still plagues your throat, but you know better than to stay silent.

“Yes?”

He has a small package in his hands that he keeps rotating, inspecting it closely, drawing your own eyes to it. It’s a thin sheet full of several small tablets that are meant to be poked through the foil encasing it. You count each row — seven tablets each in four total rows. An odd sensation tugs at your stomach as you realize what he’s got: birth control pills.

Relief floods through you as Simon fetches a small glass of water. You’re not sure how he got them — and you’re not sure you want to know — but if this is his idea of fixing you, then you’ll take it. It’s certainly better than your other theories of him potentially trying to perform an actual surgery on you himself. You’d wager he’s good with knives, but not that good. Though, he’d probably like tearing you apart like that, but you refuse to entertain that thought. You’ll take the pills.

Anything to not get pregnant.

Simon places one of the small pills in the palm of your hand, and you turn it over in your fingers. It looks legitimate. Not something that’s manufactured in someone’s basement, at least. You pray that your instincts are right as you place it on your tongue before swallowing it down with a gulp of water. It goes down just as easy as you anticipated, and it settles in your stomach without protest.

There’s hardly enough time for you to set the glass on the counter next to you before Simon’s fingers dig into your cheeks. You whine as you brace your hands against his chest, eyes already wetting from the pain as his grip grows too firm to be loving. You wince at the pressure and stare up at him with bewildered eyes.

“Open,” he demands.

You instantly comply, praying that he’ll loosen his grip if you do, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts to tilt your head side to side, inspecting every inch of your open mouth as he presses the inside of your cheeks against your teeth. He looks about ready to shove his fingers into your mouth, to feel every inch of your wet tongue and dull teeth, but he doesn’t. Once he’s determined that you’re not hiding the pill underneath your tongue or in the pockets of your cheeks, he relinquishes his grip on you. His fingers leave a lasting pain that throbs just underneath your skin, and you stare up at him like he’s betrayed you, as if you should have expected any better of him.

“Good girl,” he says, voice dull.

“Does this mean I can have her now?”

You hadn’t realized Johnny had been behind you, and when you turn to face him his eyes are full of wonder. This is the downside of birth control, you realize. Now that you’re on the pill — now that you’re fixed — Johnny’s going to have free rein of you. If he fucks you as often as he abuses your throat, you know you’re in for a bad ride. Your cunt already hurts at the thought of it.

“Down boy,” Simon snaps.

Johnny’s shoulders tense and he frowns at Simon’s harsh tone. The poor, pathetic thing looks wounded as Simon disregards you and approaches his favorite pet. His pale hands look out of place on the warmth of Johnny’s arms as he pulls him close. It’s uncharacteristically soft. Johnny melts at his touch and leans into him, lips parted in a silent plea for an embrace.

“Look at you. Poor mutt,” Simon croons. Despite the abrasiveness of his words, his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard from him. “Have I been neglectin’ you? Gone too long without a proper fuck? Want me to fix that?”

A switch flips inside Johnny. You can tell by the way his eyes widen and how he begins to paw at Simon’s chest, like he’s trying to tear his clothes off right then and there in the kitchen. Something freezes you to the ground. Forces you to stay still, as if they won’t see you and forget about you if you don’t move. Nothing but prey, hiding from the predators.

“Yes, please Simon,” Johnny whimpers.

“C’mon, I know you can beg. Used to do it all the time before we got Bonnie, yeah? Beg,” Simon demands.

“I’ve been so good,” Johnny says, words exploding out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Have you?” Simon challenges.

He nods. “Haven’t fucked her, just like you asked. Didn’t even touch her at all today while you were gone.”

Simon smirks, and you avert your gaze like it’s blinded you. “That why you’re so worked up?”

“Please,” he tries again. “I miss you.”

The only thing you hear after that is the sound of their lips crashing together. It’s wet and hungry, and you flinch at the sound of Simon’s groan. Something terrible and sharp twists in your stomach, and you feel sick at their words. Despite the terrible things Simon does, and the grotesque words he calls him, Johnny seems helplessly in love with him. So starved for affection, he’ll take it from the very hand of the man who’s hurting both of you.

“Good boy,” Simon whispers.

Reality shifts, making the air feel thicker, and that’s when you realize that Simon’s attention has been brought to you. There’s no time for you to retract as he reaches his free hand toward you and slips a finger in the loop of your collar. With a swift yank, you’re tumbling toward him with your hands grasping his forearm to try and keep yourself steady.

He chuckles, and you realize you think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh. You don’t like the sound of it. It’s dark and grating. Gargled like a wolf’s laugh. Something that precedes pain.

“C’mon, Bonnie. Johnny’s hungry.”

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #pet!au #f!reader

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inkyajax · 2 months

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⋆₊˚⊹♡ sunday + grinding on his fingers while he works!

character: sunday warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, extreme teasing, dom/sub power dynamics, pet names (darling, angel, sweetheart), tiny bit of degradation (needy slut), toxic relationship (sunday is a lil mean/controlling/overbearing), taps into sunday’s god complex words: 1.4k

Thinking about Sunday’s fingers; long, slim, warmed by the gloves, his heat radiating off the thin material. Thinking about not even riding them, but humping them, using them while he deals with something far more important. He won’t put them inside of you, refuses to even take off his gloves as he wedges a hand between your thighs, claiming that this is more than enough to make you cum, sweetheart and he knows you can do it, he knows you can get off from just this.

Because you’re such a needy little slut for him, aren’t you? Pathetic and acquiescent and willing to take whatever the fuck he’ll give you, even if it’s merely the very tips of his fingers, just scarcely brushing your throbbing clit.

It’s up to you to do all the work—you’re the one who wanted it, after all; you’re the one who couldn’t sit proper and patient and wait for him to finish with his tasks and duties, too eager and desperate for the tiniest piece of him to stand it—and he declines to put in any effort at all, simply keeping his fingers still and stiff, a hairs width from your cunt.

As such, it’s your responsibility to make yourself feel good.

He barely pays you a shred of attention throughout the entire tedious process, gaze prim and focused on the documents spread neatly across his desktop, his free hand leafing through papers and jotting down notes.

But despite his cool, calm, seemingly unaffected demeanour, you know better.

Because you can see it; his cock, hard and huge and straining against white trousers, just begging for relief. You can hear it; those gentle, almost imperceptible hitches in his breath—a subtle response to your own sweet little noises, whiny little mewls and airy little moans, sounds that melt in the heat of your mouth, sugared frustration on your tongue.

Every brush of your clit against his fingers pushes another one from your pouty lips, features pinched and tight with concentration, muscles coiled and tense as they work and flex, desperate to achieve your goal.

Yet despite what Sunday had claimed, it truly isn’t enough, each soft swipe of his fingers only working to fuel the fire roiling in your belly, spritzing kerosene on the flames but never fostering an explosion.

“S’not enough, Sir,” you whimper after nearly an hour of this routine, a heavy ache beginning to settle deep within your flesh,

“It’s not enough,” he corrects you, not sparing you a glance. “And I assure you it is, darling. Come, now, be a good girl for me, and show me that you can cum from just my fingertips.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you hiccup, lids squeezing shut as tears nip at your vision, aggravation budding at the corners of your eyes. “I need more!”

“Don’t get greedy, now,” he chastises, an implicit warning woven into the sentence. “You’ve already taken one of my hands away, and considerably slowed down my productivity, interrupting my workflow with your neediness. Isn’t that enough?”

A flash of guilt sears through your stomach, bitter and sharp, and you lip juts out even further, puckering your chin.

He’s right—You know he’s right. He’s already making a sacrifice for you by just giving you this—time is money, time is power, time is control, and you’re eating up a substantial amount with your disgraceful desire. How much more selfish could you possibly be?

“M’sorry, Master,” you slur out, eyes shut tightly enough to crinkle your lids as you attempt to scrape together the tatters of your concentration. “I’m sorry.”

Sunday says nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitches, curls upward with something sick and sadistic, thick authority cracking in the atmosphere around him.

With renewed resolve, your hips begin to swivel again, grinding your swollen clit against sheathed fingers. His fingertips flutter softly, just teasing, and your movements speed up, rocking into his feathery touch, the motion just shy of satisfying.

Something similar to vexation chokes in your throat; a half-stifled groan smothered by your determination to be good, to obey.

You will not complain again.

The quick, light drumming of his fingers against your clit ceases a mere moment before your pleasure crests—it’s a curse, how proficiently he knows your body, how perfectly he can decode those precious little gasps, slipping unwittingly from your lips and tinged with exasperation, and those pathetic little ruts, pelvis stuttering as it chases his touch, stomach muscles coiled and clenched.

He can read you so well, too well, almost as if he made you himself, took blood and bone between his palms and molded it into flesh, into his personal little angel—he is your creator, and you worship him flawlessly.

It’s obscene, just how wet you are, copious amounts of arousal soaking through the cotton of his gloves to prune his fingers, turning the material slippery, puffy clit gliding over it with fluid ease.

It’s embarrassing, just how wet you are, thick dribbles of slick streaming down Sunday’s drenched digits to collect in little pools on the webs between his knuckles. It’s overflowing, leaking onto his palm slow and steady to seep into the fabric, now stained with evidence of your desire clinging to his hand.

You’re saturated in sweat by the time you finally manage to orgasm, thin linen of your dress plastered to your form, contouring every dip and curve of your body, outlining every heave of your chest. A garland of tiny beads is strung along your hairline and collarbone, glistening dewdrops streaming down your cheeks and neck and leaving pretty shimmering trails of damp salt in their wake.

Strands of matted hair stick to your temples, your thighs still tensing around Sunday’s now rigid hand, hips continuing to gyrate in sloppy little circles as you chase residual sparks of pleasure, quick jolts of overstimulation rippling your flesh.

But despite the dull, dense ache in your muscles, heavy with exhaustion and filled with sand, and the prodigal sparks of pain-dyed ecstasy, pushing sharp hisses through the gaps of your clenched teeth with each bout through your blood, you just can’t seem to stop.

“Th-Thank you, Sunday, Sir, thank you, thank you,” you’re babbling out in hiccups, words hitching in time with the motions of your hips.

So polite, his sweet little seraph, so devoted to making your gratitude known—it is, in essence, only right to thank your god after he grants you a tiny piece of heaven, a single taste of bliss, Sunday knows. And your reverence will not go unrewarded.

Because your reverence far exceeds great respect and high regard; your reverence bleeds into veneration, obsession, addiction. Your love knows no bounds.

Your love is voracious in its worship, devouring any morsel of attention or affection he grants you and being grateful for it—even something as small and insignificant as a fingertip.

It’s fucking exhilarating to experience such power, and it sends a heady shot of rhapsody straight to his brain, dazing him and infusing his blood. He can feel it oozing out of every pore, clinging to his form like a protective shield, reinvigorating his hegemony and reaffirming his authority.

Yearning against his pants, his cock twitches, the stitches threaded across the groin stretched taut with how hard he is.

His hand is doused in you—your cum and your sweat and your arousal—and he pulls it free from your flexing thighs to examine it, holding it up in front of his face and turning it; first this way, then that, leisurely admiring the way every inch of his glove gleams in the diffused sun spilling past the stained glass. Sheathed in you, it almost looks like a shimmery satin.

“Such a mess,” he grits out, the words wispy and ragged. “Such a pretty mess you made for me.”

A pair of gloved fingers tap together in a scissor-like motion, slow and controlled, pupils blown wide with awe as he watches the slick material stick to itself, glimmering in the setting sunlight and separating with minimal effort, strings of your cum strung between the appendages, webby, quivering slightly.

You’ve since slumped against him, face nearly buried in his bicep as he appreciates the gift you’ve given him. Your breath is hot and humid against his neck, panted out through parted lips in uneven little huffs and stammered by soft whines.

“Rest, angel,” he murmurs, cheek laid against your head after he’s peeled the soiled glove from his skin and stashed it away in a desk drawer for safe keeping. “You did well.”

He knew you would. A god is never wrong, after all.

#sunday smut #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #inky.sunday

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writingoddess1125 · 11 months

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Your Weird Relationship Milestones

Weird couple things that no one talks about that is a major milestone

Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Buggy, Mihawk x GNReader

Support on Ko-Fi ☕️

Luffy

You and Luffy had known each other since you were children and had also been dating since you joined his crew as the Ship Barber.

Truthfully it had been a fun journey and everyday you two got closer and closer- Just in your guys own unique way.

Today was no excpetion- After doing some basic training till noon you had skipped breakfast and was starving to rushed to the kitchen.

Walking over you saw lunch had already been made and almost the whole crew was there eating, looking over Luffy's massive plate in question to see what it on the menu- Seeing Cutlet sandwiches served with shredded cabbage.. you didn't like the recent cabbage that much.

"You didn't like the cabbage right?" Luffy questioned as if reading your mind- Nodding as he held up one of his plates to you to taste the cabbage to see if you wanted it The crew staring at you two in now total shock as you munched on a strand of cabbage and took a small bite of his sandwich.

"Ehh- Sandeich is good- But no cabbage" You hummed and Luffy nodded as he went back to inhaling his own food. Everyone watching as you went to get a plate- excluding the cabbage.

It wasn't till way later when you were half asleep cuddled against Luffy that the thought came to you- Did Monkey D Luffy just share his plate with you?

Zoro

It had been a normal morning- you waking up first to roll out of bed and start your morning routine, of course it starting in the bathroom.

Too zoned out to care since you and him shared a living space with a bathroom so you knew it could only be Zoro- As you brush your teeth you hear the sound of water and realize he was taking a piss, with you right there?

"What island are we going to today?" Zoro questioned, you trying to rack through your brain

"Errr- S'mi S'mi i'land I 'hink-" {Sumi Sumi Island I think} You say with the toothbrush still in your mouth- Zoro finishing and stepping to the sink.

You step to the side so he can wash his hands and he grabs the deodorant- like with all your products he seemed to use prefer yours so he puts yours on instead. You handing him his hair cream which he thanks quickly and smooth through his mossy locks-

"Want a cup or coffee? Normal fixings?" Zoro called out as he walked out of the bathroom.

"Mhm!" You hum out earning a grunt of approval and spit into the sink finally. Yawning again as you were now starting to wake up.

The realization of everything hitting you. Were you two that comforble with each other now!? It felt like some marry couple morning- your face heating up as you simmered on it..

Sanji

Being on a ship was nice, but it did have some downfalls- One being the bath situation. For some reason there was only one bathtub in the whole ship- So you had to travel from a hot bath across the entire ship to get to the room you shared with Sanji- Freezing your ass off the entire way and wrapped in the thinnest towel.

Finally in the room you shed the napkin like towel and look for something warm to wear- already starting to shiver.

"Sanji! did we do laundry?" You called, looking to see you were out of all pants and underwear- Tsking as it was a bit too cold tonight to go full natural in bed.

"Uhh No we didnt- why?" He asked as he stepped back into the room and saw you still naked as day looking through clothes- staring for a bit before Grinning.

"I think what you're wearing now is a perfect outfit" He chimed, you rolling your eyes looking back at your gawking boyfriend.

"Yeah well this outfit I can catch a cold- Remember we are getting close to the north and it's going to be freezing tonight!" You reminded and Sanji nodded in understanding before a thought crossed his mind.

Sanji sighed at this as he went to your guys shared closet- Returning with sweats and shirt in hand.

"These are my favorite pair- BE good to them" He said calmly as he held out the very nice sleep sweats you'd seem him wear multiple times- fairly sure these were the ones Zeff shipped out. Smiling as you gently took it from his hands and kissed his cheek- knowing these were going to be the best sleeping pajamas ever.

"I promise I will"

Buggy

Show business was never easy- It was a constant swirl of chaos. Especially on Buggy's ship. So it was nice to have some moments were you and Buggy could just relax, especially after a hectic day or shows and making money.

So here you both are, Showered, out of makeup and lounging on the couch in Bugs office.

You laid there with your legs across Buggy's lap as you two chatted, there were random times that you and Buggy would absolutely say nothing in terms of conversation but just wanted to hear the others voice. Buggys hands stroking your legs as he kept his eyes half closed.

"Your legs feel different?.." Buggy questioned, still running his hands over the exposed skin-

"I didn't shave them" He seemed to nod at this and finally look at your legs to indeed see they were indeed hairy still touching them-

"Eh still not as good as mine- It's like a damn blue carpet" He grumbled flexing his leg as if giving and example. However he noticed you hadn't replied and glanced- noticing your intense stare at him.

"(Y/N)?-"

Rolling up you sit on his lap facing him and look over his face, he looked at you confused as you did this- Watching how your eyes focused in something.

"Stay still.." You mumbled before touching his nose, he felt a soft pinch and then you pull back looking at your finger.

"You had a blackhead on your nose-" He say calmly and show it to him. He scrunched his face in disgust.

"Ew Thats fucking gross... See any others?" He questioned and you began to excavate his face and back of any blemishes still talking about nothing. Buggy's mind however running over the fact that for the first time in his life- he hadn't felt worried about his nose with someone..

Mihawk

Mihawk is a cautious person- so he is always on his guard and prepared for the worse case scenarios. That I clues you in the first few years of your guys relationship- While he trust you there is always some wall built up to protect himself.. You understand and let him take his time-

You didn't even really notice since how living he was towards you, however as time went on he did relax around you more. Got more comforble with you around and It wasn't till one night after a relaxing date and time together that you both tucked in. Mihawk had always claimed to be a light sleeper, laying on his back perfectly posed like a vampire ready to rise at any moment- the slightest movement waking him so you learned to be still when he tried to sleep. Reading a book quietly since you weren't quite ready for bed, dozing off for a good 30 minutes before you felt a slight shift from Mihawk assuming he was still awake till-

Zzzz!!! SNORT Zzzzz!!

Loud deep Snores suddently rattling the bed like a damn earthquake!

Startling you, turning to see the man laying in the bed next to you as you see his face unattractivly shoved into the side of a pillow, his hair a fluffed mess and him on his side in a deep sleep. You'd never seen him like this before, you didn't know it was even possible as you heard another thunderous snore leave the man. It taking everything in your body to not giggle as you closed your book and dimmed the light on your side of the bed. Cuddling down next to him as another wash of snores left him.

Smiling as you realize this ment he finally felt comforble enough around you to deeply sleep- in a true REM sleep for the first time in probably years. It made your heart flutter and you giggled softly- Defiently a milestone you were proud of.

Even if it ment the snores.

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bogleech · 2 years

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Little things to know for artists just now coming to (or returning to) tumblr:

Remember that “liking” a post doesn’t add it to anybody else’s dash or spread it around; only reblogs do that!

Even if you have no followers, your art will be seen if you tag it appropriately. #art #original #oc are common basic ones but you should also tag any relevant themes and content like #animals #horror #fantasy #mermaids and so on. People following or checking those tags will see them!

Unlike tiktok, instagram and twitter it is considered normal (and should be) to interact with posts no matter how old they are. There’s no expiration on reblogging or commenting, including re-reblogging your own posts or adding new thoughts to them.

They only added this in recent years, but you can click on your own post in your dash to see all the comments and tags.

Tumblr is the only social media I know of where a lot of people routinely use the tag field to add personal thoughts and opinions, so don’t miss out on that as another source of feedback and commentary on your work!

Unconstructive negativity or unsolicited criticism is much rarer and more frowned upon here, so the likelihood of a comment that really amounts to just “this sucks” is a lot lower. People who do that just get ripped to shreds, really.

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solbaby7 · 23 days

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someone requested [ Manhattan + salt rim + neat ] and I accidentally deleted it but i remembered!!

warnings: leashes (yup like for dogs 🤭) minors dni, thank you thank you thank you thank you for this request 🥵

—

Azriel knew it was going to be an issue—you spending so much time with Nesta Archeron.

He’d found it cute at first. His sweet girl making friends with someone as prickly as death incarnate, until he’d started noticing the changes. How kind words shift into a biting wit; adopting a darker kind of humor that leaves his brows raised and tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “Come bunny, it’s time to get out of bed.”

Perhaps it’s in that learned behavior where you find the gall to part your lips and mutter, “No, I’m not going.”

It’s surprising—your defiance. Enough for him to pause in the middle of his morning routine, thigh holsters half buckled with an array of sharpened daggers and switchblades laid out before him. “Say that again?”

“To training,” You elaborate, mindlessly toying with the fraying edges of your nail varnish. Soft sheets swallow you whole, thick pillows and duvets emitting Azriel’s comforting scent all around you. “I’m not going today.”

For only a second he falters before his movements start up again, deft fingers easily buckling strips of leather and filling the slots with weapons. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m feeling like I don’t want to sweat under the burning sun all fucking day.” Your eyes are too busy rolling at the thought to notice the tick of Azriel’s jaw, the strained way he tightens his belt. “Nes and I are going shopping after brunch instead.”

“Oh?” There’s a pause, a tense silence that forces you to lean up on your elbows, neck craning to peer over at the Illyrian. Though, Azriel’s not getting ready anymore and he’s lounging too comfortably for someone who’d been adamant on following the guidelines of his rigorous schedule. The clock tick, tick, ticks away and for some reason he’s not reaching for his top or the crossbody holsters he slides on after. His hair is still dripping wet from his shower, not even bothering to work his styling pomade through. “Says who?”

He just sits there—watching, waiting. Staring at you like one of the prisoners he chains up in his dungeons; prodding at the barriers of their restraint until the spymaster tore it to shreds. You hate how well it works, chipping away at the fortified walls you’d built in your new friendships. How easily Azriel’s able to walk up to those borders and send them crumbling down with nothing more than a look.

It should be embarrassing, the affect he has on you. The way one arched brow has your spine instinctively straightening, throat rolling with a swallow as you struggle to muster up the same confidence that burned through you just moments ago. “I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”

Azriel hums low in his chest, shoulders relaxing and head nodding once, twice, three times before that stoic expression melts into understanding. “I see, that’s probably my fault. Got a touch lenient—allowed room for a little too much…hope.”

“Hope?”

Alarm bells begin ringing the further he settles in the chair, thick thighs spreading wide and veiny forearms eat up the space along the armrest. “Hope,” he agrees. “Give a good pet a little too much freedom—too much hope and all the necessary structure begins to waver.” You’re caught like a fly in a trap, limbs sticking to the carefully spun webs Az’s woven until your struggle only leaves the metaphorical ropes twisting and knotting tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m a good trainer. Won’t let you slack for a second—even if you do bat those pretty lashes up at me.”

Your mouth goes dry when his wrist flicks, two fingers beckoning you closer in silent command. A part of you hesitates; resists the rigorous discipline and rules put in place to keep you safe. Protected. But Nesta said that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself without some overgrown bat looming over your shoulder. Right?

You obey anyway, praying that Azriel doesn’t hold the contemplation against you.

The Mother doesn’t seem to hear your plea, too occupied with more deserving persons to spare a second glance at the predicament you’d weaseled your way into. Each step closer feels like knowing wrong and choosing the sin anyway, solidifying your fate and dealing your destiny with the devil for all time. “Sit.”

A huffy breath of irritation before you ease down to your knees, leaning your weight back against your calves. “I’m not some fucking dog.”

“No, you aren’t,” His hand smells of body wash when a thumb runs over the curve of your cheek, blunt nail tracing against the shape of your mouth. It’s almost sweet, toeing the line of possibly romantic when you hear it—the squeaky strain of fresh leather. The cool bite of the latch registers too late, a metallic click locking it in place. “But lately you’ve been acting like one. My rabid mutt.”

Manicured nails grip at the newest accessory but it doesn’t budge no matter how much you tug at it. Your cheeks flame, a mix of fury and pure embarrassment from the rush of arousal that soils your panties when each breath grows just a bit labored. “You fucking collared me?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll buy a muzzle to match.” He catches on to the way your thighs clench together, lips snapping shut as your brain fights to decide whether you want to scream back a “fuck you” or “fuck me”.

You land somewhere in the middle, words stern but tone leaking with curiosity. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A hellish grin splits across the handsome lines of his face, like a wolf straining in the seams of sheep’s clothing. “Try me.” He’s lost the concept to time when such fun prey has found itself stuck in his crosshairs. Such a sweet lamb should know better than to wander away from its shepherd—heaven forbid something should happen to you. “Test me, I dare you. I’ll walk you through town like some purebred if you keep acting like you weren’t taught to act with decorum.”

He means it too. You know he does. Even after all these years, you still had yet to hear words Azriel’s didn’t back up with action. Instantly, your eyes lower, head bowing in order to conceal the pinpricked pupils that dialate with desire. It burns in your belly, a cacophony of fantasies lashing against your eyelids at warp speed.

You in your shiny collar, name engraved on the customized nameplate with Azriel’s information on the back right under “If Found, Return To”

It’s purely involuntary, the desperate whimper that cuts through the bedchambers and Azriel pats at your head like some pampered pup in need of comfort. Offering love and fond coos when you easily correct the behaviors he doesn’t enjoy.

Obedient. Disciplined. Loyal. His.

“There’s a good girl. Keep that up and I’ll give you a treat.”

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dragonsholygrail · 21 days

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Hello!

God, I love the idea of werebirds/the bird colony!

What if the dance instructor did end up making a nest with all the nesting material they gave them (however/where ever they’d do that)? What would the colony think?

What if the colony got together and used their dance knowledge to create some sort of mating dance for the instructor? Teasing the instructor with their ruffling, colorful feathers in a mesmerizing display.

I need more of them lmao

Hope you have a great day/night💜💜

When word got around the all male Bird Hybrid Colony that you had made a nest in your office out of the materials they had gotten for you, loud fierce chirps rang throughout the studio. The bird hybrids wings flapping erratically at your acceptance of them.

Your building a nest they provided you in such a private place had to mean that you were finally agreeing to their mating offers. Their feathers ruffled and they all preened at the thought of claiming you as a mate should by fucking into you with abandon and filling you to the brim with cum till you’re growing their eggs inside of you.

But they knew they had to do something special, something really over the top in order to make sure you were ready for them to breed you till you were so fucked out you couldn’t see straight. What better way to do that than a mating dance?

They’d all show you just how much they had learned under your seductive and arousing teachings. Together they created the most powerful mating dance for you that anyone had ever seen.

It was an offer that was impossible to refuse and their minds couldn’t help but imagine the way your thick thighs would spread for them. Your pussy glistening with arousal. They can practically taste how good your fat cunt will be when they finally get their wings and hands on you.

Their eagerness to please you both in dance and by filling all your holes till you can’t take it anymore is clear in their burning gaze. The next week at dance class is filled with a crackling tension. Their feathers successfully hiding their hard cocks, tips red, angry, and dribbling pre cum with their mate so close.

When you heard your class had a surprise for you, you were immediately intrigued. The fact that they’re wanted to dance for you already turning you on as your panties flood with arousal. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the bird hybrids as your scent perfumed the air.

It only spurned them on and made them more desperate to dance for you and sink themselves inside your wet heat. Their feathers ruffled out, showcasing them all so that you can see just how lovely of mates they’ll be as the dance starts.

The colony begins dancing as one large machine, their colorful feathers spinning and mixing to create a truly brilliant show. You’re in awe as you watch it, a mix of moves you’ve taught them combined of more traditional mating dances. Their biology combining with what they’ve learned. Almost like you’re a part of them now. You squirm in place, thighs rubbing together, needy for some type of friction.

By now as you watch them you’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties, your skin unbearably hot with need. It’s not even the dance itself that’s getting you so hot and bothered but the fact that even with their attraction to you they still pay attention to the actual work. Their passion for you mingling with their passion for dance. And it has you wanting to take them all here and now.

As if being able to read your thoughts, the bird hybrids descend onto you. A part of the routine as they pull you into the middle of them. Hands touching every part of your body. You gasp as claws tease at your skin while others rip your clothes to shreds, leaving you naked before them.

A moment later they bring you down in the nest you lovingly made for them that they got from your office. Beautiful cocks of all shapes and sizes nudge at the openings of each of your holes. With your mind hazy with lust you let yourself give in, opening wide for them to push inside you. You moan lowly at the delicious stretch of your mouth, hands, cunt, and bottom. Every inch of you filled with them.

The music from their dance stops at one point but your bird hybrids are nowhere near done with you. Furiously fucking into you as if they’ve gone completely savage. Only knowing for certain that you need their cum.

Your moans and their chirps of pleasure echo against the walls as they slam themselves inside of you. Your body on fire as every inch of you is being stimulated with more pleasure than you’ve ever known.

They pass you around from hybrid to hybrid and you quickly lose track. Their forms becoming a blur of color and ecstasy as they fill with you cock after cock, the colony seemingly endless. You’re feeling so much of everything all at once and it’s overwhelming but in the past way possible as you try and meet all of their thrusts at once.

You cum countless times, your body shaking with the sensations overtaking you. You swear you black out for a moment only to wake up coming again, a strangled cry falling past your lips as a fresh wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your bird hybrids eventually get their fill of you, knowing their plump human needs a break. They slip out of you only once you’re fucked full of cum and limp on the floor, too tired to move let alone lift a limb.

So they take care of your every need, cleaning you up, whispering words of love and affection for you their mate, and cuddling up to you after. You nuzzle into their furry bodies, finding so much comfort in their embrace that you fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

Text

So This Is Love

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fake death, some fluff towards the end, inaccurate gun language (please be responsible when it comes to fire arms), dad jokes, smut mdni (18+), praise kink, some shower sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimluation, unprotected sex, creampie, make up sex?

Words: 11.4k

Synopsis: Simon is having a bad day...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You currently reading chapter 8 of The Roommate Series

“…I’m always here for you.”

The words replayed in his mind as often as most things in his life did. He wasn’t sure there was a point in his life where everything was quiet inside of him and he was sure that it would rip him to shreds if things calmed down within him. He thrived in the chaos, it was what kept him alive for so long despite the odds being put against him since he started his career, it’s what gave him the reputation he had currently.

Ghost. He lived up to the name in more ways than one, becoming a highly skilled soldier that seemed to be practically invincible when it came to a mission turned south. A silent, cold killer who made enemies and allies alike nervous of him when they heard his name being said. A persona with the face of the dead, an omen, a reminder, of what’s to come when he appears.

Ghost couldn’t help but like the reputation he had created for himself. He liked the way the recruits would straighten up at the sight of him for fear that he’ll lash out when his mind is a far different place. He likes when he sees someone get uncomfortable when they catch him staring at them as if he could read their minds.

In a sick and sadistic way he liked the fear in the eyes of his enemies when he came face to face with them, when they realize that they're in his sight and they’re not going to make it.

His reputation was the only thing that kept him safe.

The smell of iron and gunpowder filled his nose as he swept through the building of his current mission. He had a rifle in his hands tightly, eyes trained in front of him as he listened to the garbled mess of words that came through the comms. Behind him was a team, not the 141 but he was used to being put on missions with other sergeants or recruits he had never worked with before.

He gives out commands stern and straight to the point. He makes them clear, with no room for miscommunication because he’d rather not lose anyone due to his leadership skills.

The team sweeps through the building, splitting up into the rooms as gunfire fills the air. Ghost continued down the long hallway, executing any enemy that peeked out of the rooms on either side with an efficiency of that of a machine. He barely spared them a passing glance after their bodies fell on the ground, painting the cold concrete floors with dark red blood.

It was just another mission, a routine, another time for him to fall back into the persona and to forget about the man who died so many years ago.

Before long he was by himself. He gave the order to the rest of the team to clear out the remaining parts of the building behind him as he continued forward to find the best vantage point for setting up his sniping position. The sound of gunfire slowly disappeared behind him, becoming just white noise, static like a TV in his ears as he came to the end of the hallway and stood at the foot of the stairs.

He kept his gun at the ready as he took careful steps up the stairs. His mind was set on the mission, your voice had slowly been drowned out by the noise until he found the time to be by himself again.

Ghost made it to the top of the stairs and felt a chill run down his spine. Nothing was out of the ordinary for a building like this; concrete walls devoid of life and barely any light inside. The air was stuffier than downstairs and felt more compact, as if he had walked inside of a padded room.

His heart began to beat faster and he gripped his gun tighter as he felt that all too familiar suffocating feeling. The darkness didn’t help his mind as he remembered that coffin, his resting place, the one that still held his body and mind, and he swallowed hard.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the tightness in his throat as he suddenly felt pressure against his chest. Something was wrong, he knew it, and he kept his eyes wide as he scanned the empty hallway lined with lookalike doors.

The lack of sound around him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he inched further down. The pit in his stomach grew larger and larger to the point where he was sure he might be sick. No matter how much he wanted to back down and turn away he didn’t, despite the sirens blaring in his mind.

Ghost heard a noise and stopped.

It was faint sobbing, for a moment he thought that maybe he had just imagined it, but the longer he stood there in complete stillness and listened past his heartbeat, he could hear it. He tried to think if the briefing about the mission mentioned hostages but he couldn’t remember anything about it.

He swallowed hard as he listened to the person cry, his chest constricting tightly as the sound rang in his ears. It sounded familiar, like the made up sounds his mind had created when he thought about his family. The terror in the person's voice sounded like how he thought his mother had cried for mercy before she was murdered.

He felt sick to his stomach and he started to shake, the urge to walk away strong but the urge to save whoever was in danger stronger.

The closer he got, the clearer the voice became as he listened to the begging, the pleading for mercy. Whoever it was could hardly speak through their sobs as they begged and begged to be let go.

Simon’s blood ran cold. His feet took him forward in a sprint, unable to think of anything else as he listened to your sobs grow louder, your begging grow louder.

He had to get to you, he had to save you.

Simon slammed open the door with his shoulder, gun at the ready before he heard a gunshot. He didn’t hesitate to shoot the faceless man in front of him with quick precision before he searched around the room for you.

His entire world shattered when he saw you laying on the floor with a pool of blood forming around you.

Simon screamed your name and threw his gun to the floor. The moment he made it to you, he pressed his hands firmly on your stomach as blood gushed through his fingers.

His hands shook, his entire body shook. Panic surged through him as he listened to you cry, unable to take his eyes off your face, your beautiful face that was littered with bruises, gashes and blood that seeped out of your mouth. The sight burned into his skull and he felt like throwing up as his stomach vanished to his feet.

You sobbed, a choked scream escaping your throat as you tried to pull his hands off you in a fit of blinding hot pain. You ripped at his sleeves as tears ran down your face, a look of pure fear in your eyes as you stared up at him like he was your saving grace.

“Gotta stop the bleeding.” He felt light headed. “You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.”

“They…came-”

He shushed you, his eyes frantic as he placed your hands on the wound to try to stop your blood from pooling underneath you as he fumbled to get his medpack. He barked an order medevac into his comms but all he received was static. He cursed loudly to himself as he found that as his breathing picked up he felt suffocated by the cold air.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” His voice shook as he spoke. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Simon tried to pick you up but you resisted. You shook your head, writhing in pain as you cried and gave him a pleading look that he knew all too well. The fleeting fear, the instinctual panic that flowed through someone when they knew this was their last moment. The desperation for the pain to stop and for someone to save them.

He couldn’t lose you not after everything, not like this, not in the cold building full of hostiles far away from your home. A place for violence and fear, somewhere where you didn’t belong in the slightest.

You’d been ripped from your home, you were brought here. You deserve to go back, to be safe, to be alive and uninjured. This was his life not yours, this was his fate, the one that he waited for every day yet it never came.

You shouldn’t be the one covered in blood, it should be him.

“Simon-” Your voice was weak as you clutched his vest when he tried to pick you up again.

You shrieked in pain and against his better judgment he stopped. He couldn’t hurt you more than you already were, he couldn't make himself listen to your cries even though he knew he needed to get you to a medic.

“I’m here.” He ripped his mask off so you could stare at his face. “M’gonna help you, gonna get you home, yeah sweetheart?”

Simon stared at your lifeless body and dug his fingers into your arm. He shook his head and your name fell from his mouth in a strained whisper. His voice was broken, thick with despair as his vision blurred with tears and he shook you gently.

When you didn’t stir he clutched your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles as he began to rock you back and forth. He hoped it would wake you, that something would bring back the light that was in your eyes just moments ago.

He loved you. That had to mean something, you had to be alive because he loved you.

Right?

“Don’t do this.” He pressed his forehead against yours and hugged you closer to his chest. “Please, please don’t do this. .”

A sob ripped through his throat and he cradled your body. Tears ran down his face, streaking the black paint and melting away anything warm that had ever been Simon Riley. He cried louder than he had in years, the mission far from his mind as he held onto your dead body as it was the only thing keeping him present.

How did he let this happen? Why was it you and not him? How many more times did he have to lose someone he loved?

Simon’s eyes snapped open and in an instant he sat up in the bed. Hot tears ran down his face as he stared wildly through the darkness of the room, dull pain piercing him in his side. His breathing was frantic as he tried to figure out where he was while he searched for his gun in his nightstand.

When he couldn’t feel his nightstand or the gun, his eyes jumped around the room he was in, slowly recognising the items placed about inside and the pictures hung up on the walls. He felt so nauseous when he realized that this was your room that he nearly ran out if it weren’t for the need to see if you were truly gone.

He grabbed the blankets around him and ripped them off the bed in a frenzy.

You had to be here, you had to be alive. He couldn’t lose you, he couldn’t bear the thought of having someone else taken from him. He knew this would have to be the last time, he wouldn’t be able to handle losing someone he loved again. There was no way he could forgive himself for putting you in danger, no way that he could live with himself if you had been ripped from him, shot like an animal.

The blankets were thrown to the floor and you were revealed to him.

You laid comfortably with your back towards him. Your shoulders and chest rose with steady breaths as you were deep in sleep, completely unaware of the fact that Simon was staring intensely at you.

Simon blinked a few times, letting more tears roll down his face as he placed a hand on your arm, feeling the warmth radiate from your skin into his palm. He took a shaky breath and moved his fingers to your pulse where he felt your heartbeat.

You were still here, you were still alive.

Instead of relief, he found that the panic set in further as he stared at you and resisted the urge to pull you into his chest. He could hardly breathe as he stood up and grabbed the blankets, laying them back on top of you as he tucked you safely back into bed as if it would keep you safe from the outside world.

He left your room as silently as he could despite his stumbling. For a moment he had no idea where he was going, the layout of the flat unfamiliar to him as he hyperventilated.

He finally managed to find his room and when the door behind him shut, he couldn’t help but let out the pained noises that fought against his tight throat.

The darkness didn’t help and he struggled to find the lamp. He collapsed against his bed, sliding down to the floor as a sob ripped through him. The harder he tried to keep himself quiet, the harder his entire body shook and the faster his breathing became. It was to the point he was sure he’d pass out and he clutched his chest as a deep pain stabbed him there like a knife to the heart.

Tears flowed freely and he was stuck on the floor. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself you were alive, he had seen you himself, he couldn’t get the image of you dying in his arms out of his mind.

He was too slow, he was too dangerous, he got you killed, you couldn’t even defend yourself.

Simon cursed to himself between sobs and heavy breaths. There was nothing else on his mind as he remembered the bloody image of a fate he never wished to see again.

Why was he cursed to a life of torment? To lose the ones he loved? Awake he was tortured by thoughts of you dying and yet he couldn’t escape that even in his sleep. Deep down he knew that getting attached again would end his life but he had been too hopeful. He had been too ready to believe that maybe life would be kind to him for once and that made him a fool.

A fool that would surely get the one he loved more than anything killed.

You woke up to the room being slightly dimmed due to what you assumed was storm clouds outside. For a few moments you shifted further into the sheets, clutching the blankets close to your chest as you felt the dreary morning lull you comfortably back to sleep.

It was a perfect morning to stay in bed for just a few hours longer, something that you weren't opposed to especially if it meant you had someone to snuggle up to.

You searched for Simon behind you and that was when you noticed that his comforting weight around you was gone. You frowned with disappointment and rolled over, cracking your eyes open to see that his side of your bed was empty, and judging by the fact that the sheets were cold where he laid, he had been gone for some time.

It wasn’t entirely odd to you. Simon was an early riser and now that you knew it was because of his career, you couldn’t fault him for sticking with that routine. However, the past few mornings of waking up to his sleepy and warm touch had spoiled you into believing he’d lay in bed with you for a few moments longer.

If it wasn’t too late, you could try to convince him to come back for an hour or so…

You groaned softly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you pushed yourself out of the bed and groggily made your way out of your room. You were prepared to use all of your charm to win him over, even giving him a few well placed kisses that he couldn’t resist.

You smiled to yourself and made your way into the kitchen where you heard him piddling about, feeling giddy about your plot to get him to be lazy for a morning, until you walked into the kitchen.

The smile fell from your face and you stopped in the doorway, your eyebrows knitting together with concern. Simon was already dressed and had completely covered himself head to toe as he cooked breakfast. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered by him already being dressed, but what worried you the most was the fact that he was wearing a face mask along with gloves.

Simon always covered up most of himself when he was having a horrible day. It was a habit you had noticed when he refused to let himself out of his room when he would get back from work and one that made your heart ache.

It had been a while since he had done it and you were surprised he was wearing just a face mask and not one of the balaclavas he had.

You’re not sure what had made him suddenly feel the urge to cover himself up and for a moment you debated on whether or not you wanted to ask him if he would like to talk about it.

“Why’re you just standing there?” He asked and you jumped from his sudden gruffness.

“Just admiring the view.” You teased, hoping to lighten the mood but when he didn’t reply or spare you a glance, you bit the inside of your lip. “I’m still waking up.”

“Then eat.”

You frowned, unsure of how to take his more aggressive grumpy attitude. You went to walk up to him to grab a plate and maybe find enough courage to place a soft hand on his arm to give him some sort of comfort, but he turned away from you abruptly.

Heat washed over you, shame maybe for the fact that he rejected you so quickly, and you watched him set a plate on the table. You didn’t know what else to do other than sit down and eat as Simon sat across from you without looking at you.

The silence was heavy as you began to eat and you watched him carefully, unsure of what happened to make him so cold towards you. You struggled to say something, the words stuck in your throat as Simon glanced at you, your eyes meeting for only a moment before he quickly looked away.

You pushed down the pit in your stomach, ignoring the way the food made your stomach churn and you put on a smile, trying your hardest to maybe get him to feel better.

“Did you already eat?” You hoped that he already had but you knew better, especially with the way he shifted in his seat.

He looked conflicted, as if there was a war inside of himself that raged on silently as he crossed his arms. He still refused to look at you like the very thought of you seeing you made him repulsed which hurt a lot more than you wanted it to. He took a deep breath and you watched his muscles tense before he spoke.

“I want to teach you how to shoot.”

You stopped eating and stared at him with an incredulous look. For a moment you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea because he had to be joking. You shooting a gun? You had never held one before, hell you had never touched the knife he had let alone the handgun in his night stand because you didn’t need to.

You felt nauseous when you realized that he was serious and you pushed your plate away from you as you began to shake your head.

“Simon-“

“When someone attacks you, you should be ready.” He gave you a serious look, one that you had never seen before that nearly cut through you.

You felt small under his gaze and though you weren’t afraid, you weren’t necessarily the most comfortable. You wanted to hide away and get him to stop looking at you. Was this how people at work felt when he looked and talked to them? Was this the Simon who disappeared for months, the one that never spoke to you when he was gone? You weren’t sure but the complete switch made your head spin and you still had no idea what happened to make him so…cold.

“It’s not like someone is out there to get me.” You scoffed and watched his eyes narrow. “It’s extremely rare, you’re talking about what ifs.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in an hour.” He got up and stalked back to his room, leaving you dumbfounded.

All you could do was sit there, mouth agape from the audacity Simon had. You couldn’t quite believe he had just spoken to you that way for the first time in the three years you had known him and after the past few days. Part of you couldn’t help but feel guilt as irritation rose up inside of you because you knew that something was wrong, but you also knew you deserved better than that.

Simon knew you deserved better than that.

You wanted to know what happened to him. He was hurting, that was the only explanation after knowing how sweet and kind he could be to you. For him to turn around and treat you like one of his coworkers it must’ve been bad but you weren’t sure how open he would be to telling you what happened. In fact, he didn’t seem that open to even talking to you at all.

You wanted to help but there was only so much you could do when he wasn’t physically hurt.

You thought about ditching him for the day, going over to a friend’s or anywhere else. It hurt to want to get away from him but you weren’t too keen on shooting a gun, in fact it made you feel queasy just thinking about it.

Simon wouldn’t let you get out even if you tried. If you left, you were sure he would say that you could do it tomorrow instead then. Once he had his mind set on something it was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

You clenched your jaw and huffed, unable to stomach the food in front of you anymore. Instead you stood up and threw the rest of it away, trying your hardest to not let your bad mood ruin the rest of the day as you rubbed your temple.

It was going to rain today and you needed a jacket.

Dead leaves crunched underneath your shoes as you followed closely behind Simon. The air was thick with the smell of rain and the dark clouds on the horizon didn’t bode well for either of you as you wandered down a beaten path within the secluded woods. You weren’t entirely sure where you were and if it was legal to practice shooting out here but you trusted your roommate enough to not get the both of you arrested.

Neither of you had said that many words to each other since breakfast. You were a little curious as to why he chose the woods instead of a firing range, to which he replied by saying he’d much rather be the one to teach than anyone else.

It was hard to talk to him through his stilted speech and cold demeanor. He didn’t seem like he wanted to speak or be spoken to all that much, which worried you as much as it made you upset. He dragged you out here, the least he could do was tell you why and to not be an asshole about it.

You watched him carefully, eyeing the bag he had strapped over his shoulder and felt yourself go sick again. The walk was only making it worse as anticipation settled in your stomach, your nerves fraying at the thought of having to practice shooting a weapon.

Simon stopped abruptly in a small clearing and dropped the bag off his shoulder. He didn’t say anything to you as he dug through it and you struggled to find your voice as you watched him.

A lump formed in your throat when he pulled out the pistol and you instinctively took a step back from him. You kept your hands in the pockets of your jacket, giving him an uncertain look when he turned towards you with the gun dwarfed in his hands.

He held the gun out for you to take and gave you an expectant look. When you didn’t move to take it, his eyes softened and he sighed as he stepped closer to you with the gun still held out for you.

“Safety’s on, there’s nothing in it.” He assured you in the soft voice you were used to and you bit your lip. “Just hold it for now.”

You hesitated for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, before you grabbed it. Your eyes widened when you realized how heavy it was and you couldn’t help but marvel about the fact that he made it look so easy. You held it awkwardly away from you as if it were a dirty rag and you looked up at Simon for him to do something.

The soft look had disappeared from his eyes and he held you under a scrutinizing gaze that made you frown. Simon grunted and he grabbed your wrist with a cold grip. He moved your hands for you rather roughly and squeezed them tightly against the gun.

“Squeeze it hard and keep your finger off the trigger.” He told you and you did as he said. “Hold it up.”

“Ask me nicer.” You sent him a sharp look but he didn’t look at you as he patted your arm.

“Up.”

You huffed and did as he said, holding it up the best you could without any other kind of practice. You let him stand behind you and put you into the correct standing position, ignoring the way your body grew goosebumps from his touch and instead focused on the bubbling irritation inside of you.

He was nitpicking and if you were experienced perhaps you would’ve understood why but this was the first time you had ever had contact with a real gun and even though it wasn’t loaded you were still nervous to even hold it.

Maybe if he was being nicer you would've been fine with it. You weren’t exactly the type of person to take this kind of talk since you had never been to a bootcamp or ever intended to. In fact, you were far from the right person to ask to shoot a gun and yet he seemed to think you were.

The wind had started to pick up and the darker clouds had moved in above you. The rain couldn’t come quick enough and you ended up ignoring whatever Simon was saying in order to stare up at the sky.

“Keep your head down and look in the sights before you shoot.” He positioned your head for you and you suppressed an eyeroll.

“Simon there’s no point in this.” You groaned but he ignored you as he walked back towards his bag. “I’m more likely to get myself hurt than someone else hurting me.”

“Not if you pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“If you actually talk to me instead of boss me around maybe I would.”

“If you’d stop complaining I wouldn’t have to boss you around.”

You scoffed with disbelief, giving him an incredulous look as you watched him pull out the magazine to the gun. You shook your head when he turned around to hand it to you and stepped back with a serious look in your eyes.

“I’m not shooting it.” You said firmly, metaphorically putting your foot down on the matter.

Simon tense up and stared down at you with dark eyes. He gripped the magazine firmly in his hand as he breathed just a bit faster. You watched as a look of desperation flashed in his eyes before he held the magazine out for you again.

“You are.” He said, his voice full of enough authority to make your mouth dry “Now take it.”

“I’m not one of your soldiers so stop treating me like one!” You snapped, your voice echoing slightly off the trees.

Thunder rolled above you and you felt a few drops of rain hit your head as you glared at him. You glared at Simon, shaking with anger as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You had spent nearly the entire day being scrutinized, spoken down to, and disregarded. You had half the mind to walk away from him and leave him if it weren’t for the fact that he had the keys to the car.

You were frozen with anger, unable to move as you gave him the nastiest glare you could muster. You were done with this, done with him treating you this way. There was no way you were going to let him get away with this any longer and if he wanted to even think about sleeping in the same bed as you tonight he had better apologize.

“You need to learn this.” He demanded with a glare of his own as if he couldn’t believe you fed up with him. “You have to protect yourself.”

“From who? Who’s coming after me, Simon?” You demanded but he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter who, just shoot the bloody gun!”

You tossed the empty gun on the ground in defiance and balled your fists. You tried your hardest to stop yourself from shaking but you failed miserably.

“Simon, you’re having a bad day and I will never fault you for that but there is no reason for you to take it out on me.” You began, keeping your voice as level as possible. “You’re acting like a dick and I won’t let you talk to me this way.”

There was a slight panicked look in his eyes behind the anger as he clenched his jaw.

“You don’t understand-“

“Then tell me!”

Simon tensed up and force. He didn’t say anything and you waited for him to give you some kind of explanation. You saw him open his mouth from behind the mask but nothing came out as his eyes bounced around your face in a frenzy. For a moment you wondered if he was shaking and he clenched his fists tightly before he looked away from you.

He fought with himself, you saw him debate it and you felt more raindrops hit your head.

You waited.

But he was silent.

You shook your head in disbelief as the rain began to pour. The more you watched him tense up and struggle to speak, the more your anger mixed with concern as you watched fear flash in his eyes. You could only guess what was wrong, what had made him so afraid to turn this cold because he refused to tell you.

He didn’t tell you he was in the military before and getting him to tell you that was hard but now he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong for whatever reason. Maybe someone was out to get you, maybe he was trying to make it so you wouldn’t be scared and failed miserably but you didn't know.

Was he scared of what you’d say? That you wouldn’t care even after what happened today? You had no idea and you felt stuck, frustrated that you hadn’t pushed him more earlier, frustrated that he closed himself off from you even though you were so willing to listen.

It made your heart ache and yet you were so hurt.

“What happened?” You were desperate. “Just tell me, let me help you.”

“We’re leaving.” He cleared his throat just loud enough for you to hear him over the rain before he went to pick up the gun.

You clenched your jaw tightly, your stomach dropping and churning into a mess before you made your way back to the car without waiting for him. The cold rain beat against you, soaking through your clothes and seeping into your bones, stealing away the fiery anger while leaving all of the hurt and frustration inside of you.

Tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, causing you to walk faster. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t like you could hide in the car, not when it was the only way for you to get back to the apartment, not when Simon had to be in there with you.

You were thankful the doors were unlocked when you finally reached the car and you all but slammed the passenger side door as you jumped inside.

The sound of heaving rain hit the car and filled up the silence. You crossed your arms over you as you shivered slightly and felt rain water drip off your clothes onto the seat and floor below you. You fought against letting the tears and you kept yours glued to your wet shoes when you heard the trunk of the car open.

You couldn’t understand it, no matter how hard you tried to. There was no reason for any of this to happen, you had never felt unsafe since you moved in with him and yet he seemed to believe you were a walking target. He had told you he worked around dangerous people, that his line of work was dangerous, but he never told you anything else.

Did he truly think he was that dangerous? That you had to be extra careful and learn how to protect yourself because of him? You could’ve reassured him better since it was clear he was anxious about the topic, but he had been so closed off since the moment you spoke with him this morning. For a moment you couldn’t come up with a reason why he had put up a wall between the two of you until you remembered what he said the night he came back.

“You wouldn’t be safe around me.”

Your eyes widened and you watched him from the rearview mirror through tears.

Simon was trying to push you away. It was obvious but the reasoning behind it made it worse to come to terms with and you couldn’t help the few tears that rolled down your face as you bit back a sob.

He was pushing you away because he truly believed he was a danger to your safety. He was trying to make it easier for you to leave him because of that, you were sure of it, but the thought made your chest hurt and it had never crossed your mind.

Was he going to if you didn’t? A sob escaped you and you placed a hand over your mouth as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

Selfish.

It was harsh but that was the only thing you could think to call him inside your head as you shook in your seat. He was trying to make a decision for you and it made everything come crashing down harder, it made everything hurt worse as you thought about him leaving you over the false idea that he would eventually end up putting you in danger.

The driver side door opened and turned your head to look out the window. You sniffled and tried to wipe the tears away as the door shut, blocking out the rain once more, leaving you both in silence.

You couldn’t let him get away with it. You couldn’t let him leave, not when you loved him as much as you did.

“I meant it.” Your voice was shaky from trying to force the tears away as you refused to look at him, knowing you’d cry even more. “I’m here for you.”

Simon stayed quiet for a long time. You could hear his strained and heavy breathing from behind the mask, as if someone was choking him. His hands were in his lap as he balled them up into fists while he glared out the window at the rain that pelted off the windshield.

“I know.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to wipe the tears away. You swallowed hard and gathered the courage to look at him so you could change his mind, so you could break down his walls again.

You were surprised to see that he was already looking at you, dark eyes full of hurt and guilt that deepened when he saw the tear streaks on your cheeks. He clenched his fists tighter and he flinched as if he was going to touch you but stopped himself.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

You groaned and wiped more tears away as you shook your head. Stubborn, always so stubborn and you wished he could see how much you loved him despite that.

“Don’t tell me what I want. I know what I want and it's for me to be with you, through all of it.”

Simon stared at you and for a moment you wondered if he was going to speak. He slipped off his mask and you watched him open his mouth as uncertainty flashed across his face. He looked stuck, as if the words physically wouldn’t come out of his mouth before he looked away from you and started the car.

Your face scrunched up and your lip quivered. You turned your entire body away from him and sniffled, trying your best to hold in any sounds while tears flowed freely down your face. You hugged yourself and instead watched the raindrops hit your window as everything became blurry.

The ride back to the apartment was painfully quiet, with the occasional sniffles and shaky breaths from you as you tried to calm yourself down to no avail. You didn’t dare to look over at him and you knew that he wouldn’t say a word regardless if you did or not.

It was as if there was a wall between you both, built by you being hurt and Simon choosing to not trust you enough to let you back in. He was determined to keep you out, to push you away in the name of keeping you safe from his burdens when you’d gladly carry them with him.

You were out of the car before it even stopped and you didn’t wait for Simon to follow. You were past caring about how soaked you were and how when you opened the front door you were most likely tracking mud in as well, all you wanted to do was be alone.

You rushed to the bathroom and nearly slammed the door, unable to keep the storm of tears that welled up as a new wave of emotions hit you now that you were in the safety of your apartment. A broken sob left your chest as you placed your hands over your face and crumpled to the floor, trying your hardest to keep your voice down but failing miserably to do so.

The floor was cold and it didn’t help that you were drenched but you couldn’t move from your spot right against the door. All you could do was hug your knees close to your chest and sob into them with the knowledge that Simon was most likely in the hallway listening to you the entire time.

You’re not sure how long you cried for. All of the emotions slowly fell out of you along with the tears and soon you were left sniffling, rubbing your nose and eyes raw as your breathing went back to normal. Enough time had passed that you weren’t dripping water onto the floor anymore but not enough to where the storm hadn’t stopped.

It took you a while to push yourself off the floor and when you did, you went straight for the shower.

You didn’t waste any time throwing your clothes on the floor, feeling a lot less uncomfortable now that they were off your skin, and turned the shower on. As soon as it was hot enough, you hopped in and let the water soothe your skin. You didn’t move to wash your body or your hair, all you did was stand there with absolutely no thoughts in your mind as you were too exhausted to even think.

That was until you heard a knock on the door.

For a split second you thought about ignoring him, but your heart ached at the thought and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

No matter how mad you were, how hurt you were, you couldn’t push him away.

“Simon?” You croaked, your throat raw from crying.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

You poked your head out from behind the shower curtain when he stepped inside. You watched him shut the door and his eyes widened when he saw that you were staring at him insteading of showering.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the silence not as tense as it was before as he stared at you with guilt and regret. You waited for him to speak as he held his hands awkwardly by his side before he glanced away from you.

“I’m…” He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Can I join you?”

You didn’t hesitate to nod.

Maybe you should’ve, maybe you were being too lenient towards him after how he hurt your feelings but you didn’t want to fight. You were far past your anger, you just wanted to feel his arms around you, you wanted to comfort him and you wanted to work out whatever the both of you were feeling despite how you felt.

And you hoped that he felt the same.

You hid back behind the curtain once he started to get undressed. Your heart rate picked up as you realized that he was getting in the shower with you, that he was going to see you in your most vulnerable state you could be in. You almost scolded yourself. This wasn’t the time to act shy about him seeing you naked for the first time and yet you couldn’t make yourself turn around when you heard him step in behind you.

He stood awkwardly behind you and you stepped out of the way so some of the water would hit him. His knuckles gently brushed against your spine and you shivered before you stepped back towards him, craving more from his touch, more from him.

Simon hesitated to rest his hands on your hips, the warmth from his palms radiating onto your skin and causing goosebumps to form as you drew in a sharp breath while you felt your stomach flip.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled and you didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded.

You waited for him to pull you back into him or for him to move closer but he never did. Instead, you felt his forehead softly connect with the back of yours as his hands held onto your hips so gently you wondered if maybe he was even touching you.

His warm breath against the nape of your neck made you shiver again and for a few moments you both didn’t say a word to each other.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as it broke between shaky breaths.

Your mind and emotions betrayed you as tears welled up in your eyes again. You took a shaky breath as you tried to blink them away. Those hurt feelings popped back up and gnawed against your chest but you also felt relief from his words.

He was being genuine. He was always genuine and you couldn’t mistake the guilt in his voice for anything else, especially as he swallowed hard. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he looked like; the pain in his beautiful dark brown eyes that was sure to stick there any time he looked at you, the crease in his brow that would never cease to exist, and the frown that was plastered on his face.

“You can’t push me away and expect me to be okay with it.” You said softly as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know.” He mumbled but you shook your head.

Did he know? Did he know that you were there for him no matter what? That you wanted him when he locked himself away in his room after coming home from wherever he went, or when he came home bleeding to death, or when he was anything but happy?

You weren’t sure if he did, if he truly knew just how much you loved him.

You pulled his hands off your hips as you turned around to face him, your heart breaking when you saw his bloodshot eyes and the deep regret within them. He looked exhausted, more than you had realized after seeing him all day today and you wondered if maybe he had slept last night.

When you cupped his cheek he flinched away from your touch for a split second. His eyes narrowed and you watched as more pain flashed through them when he leaned into your palm. He placed a hand on your hip again, gently digging his fingers into your flesh as your thumb traced the scar close to his eye as if the very touch of comfort made him tense.

You could tell he was resisting it without pulling away from you. He wasn’t able to hide the conflict in his eyes and it made you nearly sob.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” You wondered, desperate to understand why he could give so much without accepting what you wanted to give.

Simon swallowed hard and for a moment it looked like he was going to run away. You saw the same panicked look in his eyes he had from before and you held his face with both of your hands.

He shut his eyes tight as he was trying to hide his from you and placed his hands on top of yours. He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his jaw tight before he spoke.

“I’m afraid you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks and you shook your head. How awful it was to have a mind tell lies like that, you couldn’t believe that he would think you’d find him unworthy of your support, of your love, that he’d thought you would see him that way.

“No.” Your voice cracked and he opened his eyes to look at you. “You are worth it to me because it’s you.”

Simon stared at you with uncertainty, his eyes searching deep within yours as if he were looking for the lie when you were being as truthful as you could ever be. He blinked and a tear escaped down his face before you quickly wiped it away, watching as his shoulders sagged before he leaned fully into you.

You locked him into a tender kiss that he hesitated to reciprocate until you made it clear you weren’t pulling away any time soon. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held your waist, deepening the kiss as he desperately moved his lips against your own as if you’d disappear right in front of him.

His fingers dug into your skin and you gasped as he caged you to the shower wall. He moved his hands up and down your body, purposefully avoiding any of the places that burned for him as his calluses scratched your skin.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he looked deep into your eyes. He was out of breath as he gave you a desperate look, a final plea for reassurance.

“Forgive me.”

“Please don’t push me away again.”

“Promise.”

Simon pressed another kiss to your lips slower but no less desperate as he cupped your jaw with his large hand. He stole your breath away and pressed his body against yours, rubbing his half hard cock against your inner thigh.

You gasped when you felt it and opened your legs for him to step as close as he could. Breathy moans escaped your mouth when he peppered kisses from your lips to your jaw and you gripped the back of his neck as he began to suck just underneath your ear.

He rolled his hips into yours and you whined when the length of his cock ran across your slit, causing you to dig your nails into his skin. He grunted and did it again, slowly dragging his cock back and forth to gather your slick across it while he attacked the sweet spots on your neck.

His movements and the steam from the shower made you dizzy. You clung onto him as pleasure built up inside you and you kept him as close to you as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to hold you, to be inside of you.

“Feel so good…” He breathed out as he nipped your flesh and ran his tongue over the spot when you whined.

Simon trailed hot, open kisses from your neck down to your chest. He was slow as he placed them across your skin, giving every part of your breasts attention while he massaged them. There wasn’t a spot that he didn’t pass over without giving you a kiss that burned into your skin, branding you with the heat of his affection as he continued to move further down.

He kissed your stomach, his hands running across your waist and down past your hips as he mapped out every part of your body that made you perfect.

Heat washed over you as he kneeled in front of you. You shivered under his touch as he ran his hands down your legs, he pressed soft kisses across your thighs while he rubbed his cheek against your skin.

He looked up at you, dark eyes full of desire and adoration as water ran down his muscles. Deep within his eyes there was a heated need, something only you could satiate as he made himself comfortable on the shower floor. He hummed as he laid a leg over his shoulder, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze as he moved closer to you exposed cunt which ached painfully for him. However, he didn’t move any close as he placed slower kisses to your inner thighs, sucking small marks on them as you sighed with content.

“You’re beautiful.” His warm breath against your cunt made you whimper.

“Simon…” You were breathless as he continued to kiss your thighs. “Please.”

Simon swiped his tongue across your slit and you choked out a moan. He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shock waves up your spine as you watched his eyes flutter shut once he started to eat you out.

He lapped at you like a man starved, desperate to get more of you as the taste of you drove him over the edge. He stuffed his face into your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as he dove his tongue inside of you like you were his last meal. His hands gripped your legs tightly, keeping you in place as you writhed against his mouth while loud moans escaped you.

The shower barely hid any of the wet noises that came from your cunt as he pressed you against the wall. He groaned into you as well and barely opened his eyes to stare at you while he sucked on your clit.

“Fuck…” You moaned and threw your head back, your hand falling into his wet hair.

Pleasure was building up inside of you quickly. You gripped his blonde locks as you stared into his hazy eyes as he sucked and licked your cunt until you were dripping into his mouth. You couldn’t find any words to say as his eyes burned into yours before the band snapped.

You came and your head lulled back. Your body twitched and your legs shook as you struggled to keep your footing, Simon having to hold you up instead so you wouldn’t fall.

Simon leaned back as you came down from your orgasm, watching as your chest rose and fell with quick breaths, face covered in your arousal before he dove back in between your legs.

“W-Wait!” You gasped as you were still feeling aftershocks.

“You can take it.” He grunted into you. “Wanna taste you.”

He held onto you possessively, as if you had a chance to run away from him, while he unraveled you from the seams. He massaged his fingers into your plump flesh, squeezing and grabbing you anywhere he could while his grunts were muffled.

You moaned writhed under his hold. Pain from the overstimulation soon turned into blinding pleasure that had you holding onto his hair for dear life in an attempt to ground yourself.

“So good, fuck you’re so good, Simon.” You babbled out, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up.

Simon moaned and he sucked on your clit harder, causing you to throw your head back. His movements became more precise and he quickened his movements while making sure to watch your every move. You didn’t miss the way the desperate look came back into his eyes at the praise, almost as if he was addicted to it just as much as he was to your taste.

He slid a finger inside of you and a choked moan escaped your throat. He moved it at a steady pace, curling it up to hit that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars while he continued to suck on your clit.

The next orgasm came quickly and hard. Your eyes rolled back and your vision went out as your body jerked from the intense pleasure that made your toes curl. You moaned and squirmed, unable to catch your breath as Simon continued to finger and eat you out.

You tried to move your hips away from him, if only just for a second of relief as but he wouldn’t let you leave. Tears blurred your vision and you grabbed his shoulder, trying to push him away while also digging your fingernails into his skin in order to keep him where he was.

You were stuck on cloud nine with blinding pleasure coursing through your veins. Your body was so hot and you felt your third orgasm approaching rapidly, suddenly the world disappeared and all you could feel was Simon.

When your walls clenched around his fingers once more and he sent you over the edge, you shook violently as not a sound escaped you.

Your body went limp and if Simon wasn’t there, kissing your heated skin as he slid his fingers out of you, you would’ve fallen to the shower floor with him. It took you a moment to open your eyes as the pleasure left your exhausted body as he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb.

He moved your leg off his shoulder and he held you up as he stood, supporting your weight against him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head and then to your temple. He peppered more around your face until he kissed you on the lips and held you close to his chest.

You moaned when you tasted yourself from his tongue and he turned off the shower, causing you to open your eyes in a daze.

“Don’t want you to fall on your arse.” He teased and you lazily smiled. “Can you make it to the bedroom?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the daze of the intense pleasure slowly leaving your body and saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

You leaned forward and sloppily kissed his chest, listening to him sigh deeply before he hugged you.

A deep hum resonated from him as you kissed some of his scars, letting your hand cup his jaw as you moved to place a few kisses on his neck. You sucked on the spot that you knew made him fall apart and felt him melt in your touch, he picked you up and stepped out of the shower.

Neither of you cared about trailing water out of the bathroom as he carried you to his room. Your eyes never left one another, even as he gently placed you on his mattress as if you were made of glass despite the fact he had just devoured you moments before.

Simon climbed over top of you and he stared at you as if you were divine, like you were the one who had hung the stars in the sky and dictated when the sun would rise and fall. He brushed his fingertips across your cheek as he studied your face for the thousandth time, a loving look on his face.

You took his hand and kissed each of his knuckles while you stared at him with a warm chest. You studied the scars on his face and the way the water rolled down from his hair, going along the curve of his nose that you know has been broken many times before.

You were always captivated by his eyes, but now you couldn’t deny the fact that they were the most beautiful shade of brown you had ever seen.

“You’re beautiful.” You repeated back but you meant it with every fiber in your being.

A smile stretched across your face when you saw his cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turned red. You giggled and he bit his lip before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, stealing kisses that made you softly sigh and run your fingers through his hair.

“Never felt this way before you.” He admitted and you wrapped your arms around him.

“Is that a bad thing?” You wondered, slightly worried about what he meant until he leaned back enough that you could look into his eyes again.

“No. Never.”

You smiled and he did too. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling in your stomach as he leaned back down to kiss you on the lips, this time so much slower than the last as you both held each other. Just being in his arms made you feel safe and loved, especially as he left you in a daze from the tender kisses he left on your sore lips.

You squirmed underneath him as the kiss became heated again. You bit his bottom lip with need as you rolled your hips up into his, causing him to stifle a grunt that made you whine.

Simon kissed you a few more times before he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy clit to make you whimper. He rutted against you until you felt him slowly sink inside your achy cunt with a soft groan.

Pain surged through you from the stretch, his large cock almost too big for you and you dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades. Tears pricked your eyes and you whimpered, causing him to stop moving.

“Doing so good, love.” He cooed softly and you moaned at the pet name.

He waited a few moments before he moved again and you let out moan from the pain and the pleasure that coursed through you until he stopped again. He wasn’t even half way in and you already felt so full even after he ate you out. You wondered if you would be able to take all of him as he stretched you out like no one had before.

Simon kissed your neck and behind your ear as he rubbed circles into your hip while you clung onto him, adjusting to his size as you fought the urge to force more of him inside of you when you weren’t ready.

“What did the cucumber say to the pickle?”

“...What?”

“You mean a great dill to me.”

You snorted loudly as you looked at Simon with confusion, unsure of why he decided now of all times to tell you a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as he stared back at you with a twinkle in his eyes before he pushed himself further into you with ease, cutting off your laugh with a moan.

He bit back a groan as well as your face contorted with pleasure and pain as he bottomed out. Both of you were out of breath even though neither of you moved while you waited for you to adjust to his size.

Once you were adjusted you rolled your hips into his and you both moaned.

Simon started slow as he dragged his cock nearly all the way out before he pushed it back in, causing your head to fall back onto the mattress. The air was knocked out of your lungs as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace, quickly losing yourself in the feeling of him all the way in your stomach.

He leaned down and attacked your neck, quickening his pace which caused you to let out breathless moans. His hand traveled up to your breasts where he toyed with your nipples while he other hand grabbed your leg and pushed it up to your chest.

You moaned loudly and tugged on his hair as the new angle let him reach deep inside of you, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fucking hell you feel so good.” He grunted and locked your lips in a kiss. “Like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, already feeling the pleasure building up within you again. It was only amplified when he pushed you down against the mattress to thrust as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess, any thoughts were gone from your mind as he bullied his cock inside of you without any chance to take a breather.

Simon kissed you anywhere he could. He didn’t spare a single spot, placing kisses on your neck, face and collarbone while he pressed his body against you impossibly close.

He stifled a whine when you ran your hand through his hair and down his neck, dragging your fingernails across his muscles as you held him.

You clenched around him, your walls tightening as he continued to hit that spot inside of you that had you crying out his name. You hooked your legs on his hips, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself get closer and closer.

“No.” Simon grunted when he pushed himself up. He grabbed your jaw and gave you a firm squeeze to make you look at him. “Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. Wanna see you cum again.”

All you could do was nod as he deepened his thrusts, dragging out a whine from you when you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. You writhed underneath him, the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you fast as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“That’s it.” He panted as he grabbed your hand and threaded his fingers between yours, squeezing it firmly. “Come on my cock.”

Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm hit you so fiercely you wondered if maybe you looked possessed. You couldn’t see anything as your entire body shook once more, your legs going limp while electricity surged through you. You couldn’t even moan as the air was knocked out of you when Simon quickened his pace.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking marks into your skin as he came inside you, filling you up and making you full. He lazily thrust himself into a few more times, sending shock waves through the both of you until he finally came to a stop.

Both of you were silent for a few moments as you caught your breath. Neither one of you moved from the other, keeping each other locked in a rather warm and sticky embrace from the sweat that had accumulated on your skin.

Simon still held your hand, his thumb rubbing into your skin while you squeezed it a few times.

After a moment of reprieve, he slowly slid out of you. The drag from his cock made you whimper and you were met with his lips pressing soft kisses to yours, causing your eyes to close.

“Clean you up.” He mumbled and you hummed, a small smile spreading across your face.

“Can you get water too?” You asked sweetly as if he’d say no to you.

“Anything else?”

You shook your head and reluctantly let him go after kissing him a few more times. You laid in his bed for a moment, a slight chill running across your skin as you fought back the urge to roll over and fall asleep in the scent of Simon.

Soon he came back and cleaned you up while you practically chugged the water he gave you. He scoffed and pressed a few chaste kisses on your leg before he tossed the dirty towel on the floor somewhere. Without another word, he climbed into bed with you, tugging you close to his chest before he threw the blankets on top of you both.

Your head rested against his chest and you listened to his steady heartbeat while he rubbed his thumb across your hairline. You didn’t say anything as you traced the scars that pepper his skin, smiling to yourself when he would shudder and when goosebumps with form soon after.

Your hand traveled further down and you very carefully ran your finger across the wound in his side, counting the stitches he had. You frowned when you counted at least nine of them and you nuzzled your head further into his chest as you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach.

“I have nightmares almost every night.” Simon whispered suddenly and your eyebrows knitted together. “It’s rare that I sleep.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling a deep sadness crawl into your chest as you fought back the urge to tear up at his words. Instead, you continued to trace the scars you saw and took a deep breath.

“Did you have a nightmare that scared you?” You whispered back and he nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Simon curled his arms around you protectively. He shook ever so slightly and you pressed comforting kisses to his chest as he stayed silent for a long while. He swallowed hard and his breathing became heavier while you waited patiently for him to continue or for him to tell you he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You died.” He exhaled sharply and you pressed yourself further into him. “I wasn’t there to protect you and you didn’t know how to.”

There was a beat and he let out a shaky breath. You turned your attention to him, looking up into his eyes to see a pain that made your heart shatter. He wasn’t going to tell you the details, but you gathered from the way there were tears in his eyes and from how scared he had been earlier today, that whatever had happened in the dream left him broken.

You rubbed comforting circles into his skin.

“I should’ve told you, I just…” He cleared his throat and shut his eyes tight. “Can’t lose you.”

You shushed him softly and pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him comfortingly as he sniffled. You ran your hands through his hair as you tried to soothe him, feeling the fear he had held down since this morning ease into the air.

He held you back firmly and took a deep breath, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m here.” You reassured him and he sighed. “I know you’re scared but I’m safe because of you.”

Simon didn’t say anything as he squeezed you and you stayed quiet, mumbling soft reassurances in his ear.

Even if there was something that had to be done, neither of you were getting out of bed for the rest of the day.

Link to part 9

A/N: the long awaited chapter. Hope you guys like the smut, it was meant to be intimate and passionate but that might've gotten lost in the writing lol. Next one will have less arguments, more fun, but still angst cause unfortunately things can’t always be happy

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Tags:

@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @alastorhazbin @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #call of duty

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mooooonnnzz · 1 month

Note

hi!!! I fell in love with your content and I wanted to make a little request, since it was on my mind for a while...

It's kinda cringe but I saw your hc's/fic about Stan's and Ford's reaction to their daughter having a partner, but what would they say about the break-up??? how would they react?? 💔💔

I'm Glad There Is You

Stan + Ford HC's of you getting broken up with!

ʚ♡ɞ 4,2k words

ʚ♡ɞ we're so back

ʚ♡ɞ i've been cooking this up for the past few days mwehehe

ʚ♡ɞ i won't be publishing fics as frequently! but its better cuz i wont be pushing out poopy fics. i can actually take my time with them and make em better :3

ʚ♡ɞ that's all enjoy! request are still open too :p

🎱 Stan

𝄞 Stan hadn’t suspected a thing when he saw you rush into your room after being out all day. You occasionally do that when you were exhausted and had no more battery left in you to uphold another conversation. But, when he saw you all disheveled in appearance. Not bothering to glance at him, let alone tell him about your day, he knew something was up. Springing your wellbeing in the conversation was tricky. He knows that if he straight up asked if you’re okay, you’d burst out into tears and cry out incoherent words that sounded like mushed up sobs into his ear. So how could he ease you into talking about yourself without having you break down? For the remainder of the day, he was tackling himself with ways he could ask about how you’re doing, stemming from slapping a sticky note on your forehead to passing a note under your door. But none of them seemed effective. His brain was splitting into two. He couldn’t decide and the day was coming to a close. The orange overhang of the sun shone into the shack and Stan was contemplating on asking your partner why you were sad because if he didn’t know what was going on, your partner had an idea or the full picture. He decided against it though. Maybe this was something you’d rather keep to yourself?

𝄞 The stress was so bad he had to go outside for a quick smoke. Seeing you in an emotional state of disarray sends him into one as well. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and pinched it in between his lips. Craning his head up a bit to light up the cigarette, he shielded the orange flame sparkling to life from the wind with his cupped hand. He blew a stream of smoke into the evening air, his electrifying nerves nulling into a soft calming buzz. He knew smoking was bad for him, but he couldn’t stray away from it in times like these. The door to the front porch painfully creaked open. Looking over his shoulder, he softly smiled upon seeing you. “Pumpkin,” He pats the side right next to him. You take the seat and inhale the crisp air—well, from what you can get with all the cigarette smoke littering the air. “Second hand smoking is way worse than first hand.” You mention, delicate amusement trailing in your words as you take a seat beside him.

𝄞 “You’re the one who walked out here knowing I was smoking.” He replied with a flick of his hand. Another trail of smoke escapes his mouth as he exhales, his body visibly relaxing into the familiar routine. “I should get a cigarette too.” You stretched out your arms, cracking a small smile. “Heh,” Stan flicked the cigarette, small shreds of ashes trickling down from the burning end of the stick. “You think you’re funny.” You nod intensely. “I think I’m very funny.” You look off into the horizon, eyes carrying such a thick somber look to them Stan had to finally ask the question he had been beating around the bush for who knows how long. “You okay, kiddo?”

𝄞 Your eyes glisten over with tears, bottom lip trembling as you hold back the words you’ve been dreading to say to your dad the minute news broke out to you. “Oh, [Name].” Stan burnt out his cigarette, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. The pure affection coming from Stan made you pour out more tears, trembling sobs wracking your body as you mournfully cried onto his shoulder. “Let it out, sweetpea.” His hand comfortingly patted your back. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but maybe you needed a quick cry to comfortably tell him what happened. His stomach churned as the suspicion of the reason why you were crying into his shoulder rose. He had a feeling on why you were acting like that, but he had hoped he was wrong.

𝄞 He wasn’t wrong. He was right, unfortunately for him. After recollecting yourself to the best of your ability, Stan had discovered that your partner had broken up with you earlier today for reasons that they had not specified. Frustration bubbled up inside Stan and it took every bone in his body to not slam his fists on your ex’s door, gun in hand to shoot them down for breaking your heart. Instead, he opted to swallow down his anger and tend to you. You needed him to be right by your side and he wasn’t going to suddenly up and leave to shoot down a person. He’d wind up in jail and then you would have to deal with the loss of your partner and your dad. The thought sent chills down his spine. You peeled yourself off his shoulder, leaving a slobbering teary eyed stain on suit. “I’m sorry.” You mutter, eyes red and burning from the force of squeezing them closed. “It’s okay, sweetpea. You don’t need to apologize for things like this, you know that right?” His thumb swipes a stray tear off your cheek. “I know,” You hiccup. Stan seeing you like this infront of him shredded his heart into tiny little pieces. Who could hurt you like this? How could someone protect his child’s heart and break it the next day? Your partner even promised that they’d never pull a stunt like this, and yet here you are, bleary eyed and sniffily.

𝄞 Your face pinched with a forever sorrowful look and for a second he thinks that he’s never going to have you back, he’s never going to see your smile ever again and that alone terrifies him. There has to be something that can cheer you up, right? You’re not forever stuck in this pool of sadness? This is something someone can get over right? All prior knowledge to his personal relationship flies off his head and out the window. He removes himself from his thoughts and grounds him in the moment. What is something that’ll cheer you up? An idea sprouted in his mind. “Want to watch a movie with your old man?” He doesn’t know how you’d respond to his offer and it slightly scares him. He’s never been able to fully predict your every move, but he has made some sense of them later on, but he’s never seen you in this state before and he doesn’t know what to expect. “I’d like that.” You meekly nod your head and Stan has to contain himself from lurching up into the air and cheering out in happiness. Rather, he clears his throat and broadly smiles at you. “I’m gonna take a real quick shower. Pick out a movie you wanna watch and I’ll be back in no time.”

𝄞 The rest of the night was spent snuggled up in the sofa, a blanket of yours of when you were a kid was draped over you and Stan. It barely gave you any coverage but you claimed that it did when Stan would mention it. Stan didn’t want to disagree with you and besides, the blanket reminded him of when you were a little kid, carefree and giddy with little to no knowledge of idiotic people who’d carelessly shatter your heart and leave you without any consolation. The movie that was playing was and still is an all time favorite of yours. You and Stan had memorized the lines that have been forever sewn into your brain from how many times you forced Stan to watch it when you were little. Guess some things don’t change. The days following are full of extensive care and love, enough that would be overbearing to anyone that wasn’t you–at least sometimes.

𝄞 Fishing outings were a must. Stan would rapidly knock on your door, standing on the other side decked head to toe in his fishing outfit. Your fishing hat in hand. You couldn’t say no to him when he’s looking at you with such a sad look in his eyes and dressed up, putting on your worn fishing hat that has seen better days. Stan proudly smiled at you, wiping off a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why are you crying, Dad?” You chuffed nervously. “My eyes are sweating!” He covered his eyes with his forearm, violently sobbing as he walked away to get the fishing gear. In his defense, he hasn’t gone fishing with you in a good long while and seeing you wearing your fishing outfit really triggered the water works in his eye. The past week has been an emotional wreck for you and him, who could blame him? You had forgotten how much fun fishing was. A laugh rattles through your throat as you reel back your fishing rod. This must be your third attempt in catching a fish, and Stan’s enthusiastic commentary struck a funny cord within you. With a few more tugs and reeling back, you caught the fish. “Awesome catch!” He patted your back with so much force, you jolted forward, making the boat lean to the side, causing you to lose your footing and drop the fish in the water. When you were about to revel in your loss, you heard a large splash and large droplets of water sprinkling over you. You turned your attention over to where the splash was heard and to your luck, Stan bobbed his head out of the water, gasping dramatically as his arms flailed around. “Dad!” You laugh.

𝄞 “The water isn’t even that deep.” Talking was a task to do with how hard you were laughing. “Oh.” He stopped thrashing around and allowed him to sink to the bottom of the lake floor. And to his surprise, the water barely even passed his upper chest. That realization made you hunch over in laughter. “Oh, stop laughing!” He grabbed onto the edge of the boat and tried pulling himself up, but the sudden shift in weight made the boat tip over, sending you and all the other belongings in the boat into the freezing water. “[Name]!” He looked to where you were under the water, ready to dive in and grab you from below when you sprung out of the water. You stared at him, cheeks puffed as you struggled to hold back your laughter. “Oh, whatever.” His initial panic was washed off with playful annoyance. “Go ahead, laugh at your old man.” He rolls his eyes upon hearing your boisterous laughter echo in the air. “That was insane!” You wrap your arms around Stan’s neck, hoisting yourself up so you don’t drown while laughing. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh at this poor old man who’s clearly struggling.”

𝄞 Singing your favorite songs in your karaoke machine was his favorite way to catch you off guard. He’d notice you reminiscing on the past and he’d make a beeline to your machine, slamming the buttons that would turn it on and play a song that you like. His gruff scratchy singing voice always pulled you out of your mind and into the present moment. Walking into the living room where he relocated your karaoke machine for times like these, you couldn’t help but laugh as he passionately sang into the microphone. “Disco girl, coming through! That girl is you!” He points the microphone at you, motioning you over to join him. It takes some convincing but when you do, you and him are blissfully singing your hearts out into the microphone.

𝄞 Seeing your partner around town was an immediate mood kill for Stan. Unaware and in a chipper mood, he found himself in the grocery store. Stacking up on food and snacks to fill your stomach and his. When strolling into the available cash register, his smile curls into a grimace when he sees who was behind the counter. “You,” he spat out. “Ah, Mr. Pines!” They nervously chuckled. “Good to see you. How’s it been?” They can’t make eye contact. The lazer like glare Stan was giving them was enough to know that things haven’t been good. Grabbing an item from the shopping cart, he hovered it over the conveyor belt, mulling over his thoughts. He could not pay for this and run out of the store or he could unscrew the carton of milk and squirt it all over your ex. Or maybe, he could do both? With speed no one could comprehend, he undid the lid and spilled the milk all over them, chucking the empty carton right on their head for extra measure. He then grabbed the cart and bolted out of the grocery store, leaving everyone in the store stunned. “Is anyone going to arrest him or?” A random passerby asked, watching how your ex just stood there, completely befuddled with milk dripping down their body.

𝄞 “Dad? Why is the news saying that you assaulted a worker in the grocery store with milk?” Stan scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see on the news, sweetie.” He takes a good sip of his pitt cola. “But it shows camera footage of you doing it.” You gesture to the video that was playing. “Fake news. You know how technology is advancing. They can make anything these days.” He grabs the remote and switches channels. “There! Now, we don’t have to see that.” You smile, elbowing him. “It was cool that you did that.” You mutter. He chuckles. “The kid deserved that.”

𝄞 Drives around the town and wreaking havoc in rival attraction traps were a good stress reliever and anger outlet. You were swinging with all your might, your axe that was in hand was splintering through the large wooden statue. “Keep going!” Stan was serving as a lookout, his eyes switching through the front door and to you. Sweat rolled down your temples as you delivered one last final blow to the statue. The statue slowly tipped forward. “Let’s go.” Stan urgently whispered, running back to the family van with you in tow. Stan started the van and sped out of the parking lot and into the driveway. “God dammit, Stanley Pines!” The person emerged from his house, shaking his fist in the air. You clapped your hands together, laughing. “That was a fun one.” You noted, swiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt. “Who’s next?” You ask eagerly. “Check on the map. You decided where we will go next.” This was the first time you fully smiled at him with your signature laugh following after. No remnants of sadness stuck to you. He knew right then and there that he got you back.

📖 Ford

𝄞 Ford was peacefully slumbering on the couch when the front door was slammed shut, scaring him awake. He jolted forward, the book that was covering his face fell flat on his lap, startling him. “[Name]?” He closes the book in his lap and pushes it aside. You didn’t respond and he was quickly resorting to the idea that it wasn’t you. Creeping towards your room, his knuckles knock on the door. “Sweetie?” He puts his hand on the knob and very slowly turns it. “I’m coming in.” He announces. Opening the door, his eyes land on your back. Quiet sniffles and hiccups could be heard coming from you and Ford’s heart clenched in his chest. He never liked hearing you cry. “[Name]?” He settles himself down on your bed. He couldn’t get to see your face properly since you were curled inwards with your blanket slightly obstructing your face, but he could see your body quiver as you suppressed your sobs. Ford sucked his bottom lip into his teeth. Equally as clueless as his brother, he doesn’t know how to approach this. He hadn’t had the slightest idea of why you’re crying and that truly bugs him.

𝄞 His hand rests on your hip, fingers tapping in a soothing rhythm. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He’s chewing on his lip, anxiety running its full race through his body, relentless and awfully energetic. He’s sure by the end of this, he wasn’t going to have a bottom lip from how much he was nibbling on it. You shuffle further into your blanket in response. “You don’t wanna talk about it?” He croaks out. He never liked when you pushed him away in your most vulnerable moments. He knows you mean well but he detests being in the unknown. You let out a small hum. He had learned over the years that two hums were yes and one was no. It was a very asbured way to communicate but it did come in handy when you weren’t in the mood to talk. This was a way of telling him that you weren’t in the mood prevented Ford from asking an assault wave of questions.

𝄞 “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Two hums. Patting your waist, he shuffles to the other side of your bed and plops down right next to you, mindlessly staring off into the ceiling. His anxiety was still pounding through his body, his clammy hands and beating heart proved that but it quelled a little of it knowing that you wanted him beside you. That you found comfort in his presence. He’d hope you did, he didn’t raise you all these years just for you to hate him. Wait, you don’t hate him, right? You could never hate him. He’s your dad! Can kids hate their own parents? He hated his dad so that can be a generational—

𝄞 “I think hear your overthinking from here, Dad.” Your voice comes out muffled from speaking through the blanket covering your face. He blinks, swallowing his doubt and looking over to your blanket covered face. “Sorry,” he lets out a dry laugh, scratching his cheek. “It wasn’t my intention to annoy you.” You pull the blanket down to the bridge of your nose, allowing Ford to see your irritated swollen eyes. “You’re not annoying me, Dad. You being anxious makes me anxious.” Ford cracked a smile. “Like father, like child.” That managed to pull a smile from you. “Unfortunately, I grow to be more like you everyday.” You say with a roll of your eyes. An overdramatic offended gasp leaves Ford. “And that’s a bad thing, how?”

𝄞 Playful banter was tossed between the two of you, each quick remark and quip allowed you to pick yourself up from the hole you were cowering in. After a while, you mustered up everything you had and told him about the break-up. Ford really couldn’t believe it at first. You had to repeat it to him twice much to your dismay but once he caught what you said, his face fell. “They were a waste of time anyways.” He said with a flick of his wrist. “Dad!” You weren’t expecting him to come off so strongly over hearing the news. “It’s true. They couldn’t even take my work seriously! How could someone laugh at my face when I tell them that aliens are real? Someone is clearly stuck in the stone ages.”

𝄞 He was riding on the mindset of you need to forget this person and move on. Wallowing over losing them wasn’t ideal and you need to distract yourself with other things to prevent yourself from dwelling back on the thought of them. He was done with your ex, so should you. But he was real quick to find out that you weren't exactly like him in that aspect. He’d find you resting on the couch, eyes mindlessly staring at the TV as you’re cuddled up with blankets upon blankets. Tear marks were stained on your cheeks. Maybe you couldn’t distract yourself? Maybe he should be the one that distracts you? He’d scribble drawings of you and him on a piece of paper and fold it up into a cute little airplane and toss it over to you. You would unwrap the little gift with a smile, tears clouding your eyes. “Aw, Dad...” You held the piece of paper to your chest.

𝄞 Your favorite dinner would be cooked almost everyday, and if you have more than one, you bet he’d be coking it up in the kitchen, offering different favorite meals every night. Anything that would bring the smile on your face back. Adventures out into the woods, just like old times, was a thing he’d bring you along with. Even when you did protest and groan, whining how you would rather cry into your pillow, Ford stood his ground and made sure that you got ready for the adventure he had meticulously planned. The minute you step into the familiar lush woods, a sense of calmness falls over you and suddenly you’re a kid skipping around in the woods, in search of anything to show Ford so he could write about the new discovery in his book. Finding old discoveries lightened a smile on your face and unknowingly to you, Ford would draw you in his book like how he did when you were younger. Old habits die hard.

𝄞 A lot of nights were spent you talking your feelings out to Ford. He was a good listener and had a few quips of advice to lend over, since he’s been in a similar but not so similar predicament. But he was more intent on listening to your concerns and anxieties. “I can’t believe I let them do that!” You plop your back down on your bed, anger spilling out of you in sharp words. He shook his head, a very sassy “mhm,” leaves him. “They didn’t deserve you anyways.” He moved his finger side to side. “Why are you acting like that?” You laugh, gingerly pushing him. “Don’t your friends act like that when something happens?” You beam from ear to ear, a loud laugh escaping you. “No! Where did you even get that from?” Ford shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought they did?” He pretended to act clueless and with a big smile of his own, he watched you curl up in laughter over his ridiculous act. He could only think of how much he missed your smile and beautiful laugh.

𝄞 Seeing your ex at the mall was a surprise both for him and them. Ford was scanning the shelves in search of something to get you when they approached them. “Sir, do you need any he…” Their words die in their throat when they register who they’re talking to. Ford hasn’t made the correlation yet, his attention so wrapped up in finding you the perfect gift. “Do you need any help?” They repeat, their voice cracking. Ford lazily looks over to them, dismissing them before looking back. Then, a look of recognition washes over him and he whips his head over to them. “You!” He loudly yelled. Customers in the store glance over to them. “Mr. Pines, keep it down.” They stressed out, teeth gritted together. “I will–.” An idea came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He rolled his shoulders back, untensing them. They look to the side, uncomfortable with the sudden change. “You’re sorry?” They repeat in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way.” A strained smile pulled to his face as he bid goodbye. Stepping out of the store, he sees you happily munching on a blueberry muffin you bought from the bakery. “Hi, Dad! You got anything?” He looks around you. “Do you have any food?” You place your muffin down on the table and grab the bag full of treats. “Yeah. I got some–” Ford dipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a cookie. His other hand digs into the inner pockets of his coat and pulls out a vial of pink sprinkles. “I knew I was going to use this at some point.” He mutters to himself, popping off the cork. “What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he sprinkled it onto the cookie.

𝄞 “You’ll see.” He winks at you before scooping it off the table and walking back into the store. Minutes later, he comes out with a big sinister smile on your face. “What did you do, Dad?” He pointed at the entrance of the store and it didn’t take long to see what he did. A flamingo human-like creature erupted into the store, squawking crazily as their head desperately swiped from side to side, looking for someone. Their black beady eyes landed on you and Ford. An angry squawk was heard from them, their chicken like legs slapping on the floor as they charged at you and Ford. “Run!’ Ford grabbed your wrist and darted away. In a quick swiping motion, you grabbed your bag full of treats before being whisked away. Loud bird noises were heard behind you and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Who is that chasing us?” Ford took a quick turn into another store, shuffling past people and hiding in a discreet corner with you. “That may be your ex angrily chirping at us.” You clapped your palm onto your mouth, an effort to muffle the laughter that left you. “Of course you’d do something like that!” The rest of the day was stealthily trying to escape the mall without being pecked to death by a very angry flamingo. When you did, you were laughing all the way to the car. “Do you always have that around for times like this?” Ford nods. “You’ll never know when you need to make someone a flamingo.” The automatic slide door pulls apart. “Pines!” The now fully turned flamingo human hybrid squawked out. “Get in the car, hurry!”

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